There's something about the rain that slows my day to a drawl. It seeps away all my life and it feels so good, just laying there covered in quilt sweating away in the paradox of heat.
There's an assignment due at 5 pm tomorrow and I am not about to lift a finger anytime soon. I'll manage. I always do.
The pain is soothing. The fatigue, oh so familiar. The listlessness, I wonder how long it'll last this time. Nobody wakes suddenly and heads to the kitchen to FIND something to cook just for the heck of it. I am not even hungry. I reckon its annoying to be this crazy.
Im an addict. Those lil red fuschia pills are so pretty, like candy. Works magic too.
Am yet to figure how to figure people so accurately. It must be a wicked thing to have. I wanna be a behavioural expert too!
She was our wallflower. She was that girl with flair of one of a kind. Her smile and frowns never came about. Like porcelain, her face unreadable. I cant tell if she's sad or she's rejoicing. It happens. Being the one whom everyone assumes never gets tied down by the woes.
And here I hear her sing. So beautifully I want to touch her cheek and tell her it's okay. I hear her and see her side. We'll never understand nor comprehend what has made our journey so bitter yet worthwhile. I want to tell her how much her voice lulls me into such peace of mind and how her music haunts my mind in a manner I cannot fathom. I want her to know she's better than James Iha even.
But I never knew how to.
The Uncanny Weekend
Core ingredients
1 three hours journey from JB to KL
1 random text message to your brother
3 morning wishes from Sabah
1 unexpected phone call from your mom who's unexpectedly in KL as well
3 abrupt change of plan
Seasonings
2 missed turns in KL
2 bumps into your cardio tutor from JB
1 wicked coincidence of him being in the same talk as your dad
1 fucking annoying GPS
2 great meals
1 book receipt reimbursement
3 health-system-talks with dad
To be sauteed for frangrance
1 hug from Anne
1 breakdancing competition
1 spontaneus decision
1 split second decision making
30 mins preparation to go up Genting. Time is 2300
Spices
2 grumpy phone calls
Many steam-off texts
5 minutes of being dissed
45 minutes of silence
1 ass on the wheels
Simmer slowly
1 great view of the world below our feet
4 familiar faces
1.3 bottle of Absolut
5 bottles of ribena
3 used cans of Redbull wanna be
Ample supply of ice
6 plastic cups
6 hours of high altitude
After the simmering
2 sober drivers driving down Genting at 0700
4 sleeping girls
1 great bitching session
To cure any bad smells
2 bowls of pork noodle
2 sakais
4 packs of ambipur
2 hours of bearable nonsense
Final touches
1.5 hours of unbearable lunch
4 mins of Colbie - I never told you
4 hours of long drive home. Weird. Even 150 km/h seems so slow. The road back is so long
20 mins nap in Ayer Keroh
Missing ingredient
1 Jasmyin Petrinna Tay Sue Lin
2 besties (Jols + Shuan)
1 Davidchua
1 Jagadev Ramal
The sunset was so different this trip back on the longest straight road. It was as if someone put a yellow filter in front of my already hazy eyes. And hypoglycaemia with gastric irritation from
ribena is described as a out-of-body feeling. Literally. Everything is different. How else to get into the world in between?
By far, my most delirious and deranged weekend. 23hrs and 10 mins of no sleep with 10 hours behind wheels. Who count the hours after that? I do. I was counting down to the minute I hit the North South highway. The heart misses the 2 years of lackasaidal times.
They said to either view your day as sunny or rainy. But I think I like to see mine as a cycle. From sunrise through a rain and till the moon takeover. Life is not this still snapshot. It is my personal film on the transition of morning to night everyday. I dont leave out my perfect rainy days. The pitter patter and the drenching is unforgettable.
And the sunset was even more beautiful then.
All the time.
The coffee cup half empty
The froth of latte on my lips
My coffeemaker is behind his counter.
It is nice to sit down and not let time rush you from behind. Again, that is my forte. Even at the 11th hour I am still capable of fb-ing and blogging or making trips to the kitchen and whipping up a meal. Time is incapable of disciplining me.
I would love to just sit cross-legged with my latte in hand and just stare at the passing cars and faces. But they might think I'm depressed and weird. I would also love to runaway with my venti starbucks cup. I dont think they would notice. Right? Meheheheheheheh.
When it is cold and not winter, its awesome. Especially when the songs in my head are perfect. Mhmm.