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Friday, February 17, 2006


my new passion is Lays. salt and vinegar. the green ones. yummy.

going at midnight for the third time to the supermarket just to pick them up. and getting noodles, pancake mix, shower scrub and new shower gel in the process. yummy.

of standing at the cashier insisting on paying myself, having a six year old little girl looking at me in total wonderment, amazed at my credit card, car keys and ability to buy groceries at midnight all alone. with an expression of awe, and an almost disbelief that she could ever achieve such great heights one day too.

back rubs are yummy too.
snuggling under covers, warmth against cold AC air. jean clad legs intermingling, naked arms intertwining to shut out the artificial cold. yummy.

stepping outside into ever present restless wind, whipping hair into eyes as ears adjust to the sound of the sea.

feeling sand sinking ankle deep.

sitting in a board room, kneeling incongruously on the alien floor only ever stepped on before, leaning into the silent stand, bend, stand, kneel of prayer. sitting for a stolen ten minutes of a crushing brutal rapacious day. watching out of floor to ceiling windows from the top floor while squatting in reflection, looking at balcony plants being torn by the wind outside. hypnotized by the serenity of the wharf as a seagull arcs over a boat buffeted at its standstill. wrapped on a ray of rare pale sunlight in utter silence, eternity poised in the restless wind.

i had a dream. in a giant cafeteria looking out onto a huge green valley, complete with rainforest blanketing the mountain sides and a waterfall and snaking river off into the far distance.

of being in heaven before life started. of sitting on a long table with all of humanity on it. opera in the background. starting and stopping like musical chairs. the objective being to hold hands in the split seconds of silence, and hold onto two partners for the rest of the song, for the rest of life. of watching mesmerized the ocean of criss crossing hands. of reaching forward in the next silent gap, and latching both hands onto him.
of the archangel himself pausing at the incongruity. at the ingeniousness of humanity. how can someone change the rules and just hold onto one person? he’s more conventional, holding onto two. the music restarts, too late to change, all eggs in one basket.
the opera reaches its crescendo, the people stir, awaiting the next change. she waits poised, but notices he isn’t looking at her. he’s struggling, but his attention is waning, eaten by the other hand he’s holding. he’s going to leave her. she who broke convention never broken by humanity before, broke it for him. she weeps, and he weeps for her.

when the music changes, he changes hands.

she wakes.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

making hay

for Z: i can't help it.

i’m bored. i stifle a yawn. then turn to my favorite pastime of late. i look casually over to the head of the bed.
his hair is a little sweaty, and rumpled adorably. sitting from my vantage point, I can sneak a look at his face, and something about the pleasing set of dark eyebrow against pale tanned skin makes my heart give just a little skip.
he’s stretched out against the headboard, intently watching his Discovery behind my head somewhere to the side. I sit at the foot of the bed, our legs mixing at the knee at a perpendicular.
he suddenly notices me looking and I’m a little embarrassed at being caught. but then his gaze meets mine, and he does that look. like he knows.
how does he do that?
“Can you change the channel please?” I say out of the sheer awkwardness. and, well, because I want the channel changed.
he looks a little surprised. “But, but….baby! that the gobbeldygook car being blahdiblahdiblah car made in lalalala car land”. his hands gesticulate in excitement as he says "car". he looks hopeful, and tries to find a similar spark in me. his eyes flick longingly back to the TV.
I keep looking at him.
he looks at the TV. and then he looks at me. and then his eyes soften just a bit. he sighs. then hands me the remote.

I happily flick to BBC/star world/channel V/comedy channel. the sun is shining.


Saturday, February 04, 2006

a whole new can of fuck up

i don’t want to wear your tshirt to sleep today. i don’t want to wear the clothes i’m wearing right now. i want to jump in burning hot running water and scrub the humiliation, embarrassment and stupidity off myself.

i can only wonder WHY i sadomasochistically choose to stay in a relationship that is making me feel so bad about myself.

i don’t know how to deal with you when you get upset. i can’t, i can’t open my mouth and allow the smooth oily words you want to hear to pop out like giant regurgitated pills.

and when i stare at you miserably and try to make fumbling apologies that involve me verbally prostrating myself before you, and you continue to look stonily unmoved, i feel helpless with lack of knowledge on what to say or do.

and in that ocean of not knowing anything and fumbling around in the dark, i do know one thing. any longer, and i’m not going to take it. i do know, that if we continue like this, no, if you continue to be like this, get hung up on stupid unimportant things, and make me miserable and teary and get satisfaction out of my misery, i will end this.
these are not the foundations lasting relationships are made on.
make your choice.

happy pre-valentines week to you too.