Sonnet XXV

I am generally not a poetry fan. Especially those angst-filled, juvenile, self-indulgent nonsensical prose that calls itself poetry just because it comes in broken paragraphs. Unfortunately self appointed poets that give birth to these are particularly prolific. I mean, if you want to rant, go get yourself a noose. Or a blog.

Nevertheless, I was introduced to Neruda completely by chance by a trivia partner who knows even more useless stuff than I do. Neruda is indeed a precious find. His works are dusty, old and unapologetically nostalgic. Earthy even. And the sadness - transcendental.

Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:
I wavered through the streets, among
objects:
nothing mattered or had a name:
the world was made of air, which waited.

I knew rooms full of ashes,
tunnels where the moon lived,
rough warehouses that growled 'get lost',
questions that insisted in the sand.

Everything was empty, dead, mute,
fallen abandoned, and decayed:
inconceivably alien, it all

belonged to someone else - to no one:
till your beauty and your poverty
filled the autumn plentiful with gifts

Paulo Neruda

All I can think about is a wookie

And the war of the flags have begun. So festive. Next election I must go into business with a professional photographer and get these candidates to pose better.
I mean obituary style is so not fortuitous. What more with a pangkah on the side. Choy!

Ah well. The wheels of the different propaganda machines have been on overdrive these past week. You may cheer, you may hurl, bottom line is - printing presses and vendors of loud hailers are making a killing!

Perusing the political blogs lately, well, they are no better than the mainstream media. I am not going to even attempt any commentary because I don't think I can ever be as eloquent at being logically offensive.

So instead I will write about getting a non-stick pan at 70% off. Best bargain of the year. I mean imagine getting a 28 inch pan for 71 bucks at House of Presentation! And its just the right size. With a glass cover. I think will baptize it with my crowd pleaser, kaim chye (thats salted vegetable) chicken curry.

In anycase, work has been insane. I have been a little insane myself. Came very close to volunteering to join the ranks of the dedicated unemployed. Still. I continue to prostitute my principles and sanity for the sake of food, shelter and the odd non-stick cookware.
Sucks much, mon ami.

Xanadu, Atlantis, Bangsa Malaysia. Only in your dreams, baby

I found myself at a DAP rally in ss2 and there was this supporter who was busy giving out flyers and she was about to hand me one before she stopped short, gave me a quick once over, mistaken me for a Malay, and turned the other way.

So much of DAP and bangsa Malaysia.

The week that was

At work, I came very close to throwing in the towel. A senior manager wants my head on silver platter. With garnish and some brown sauce, no doubt.

Oh, he does make my blood boil. I am so close to doing him bodily harm.

But that is not the way of resolving conflicts. I just need to ruin his life. The Chinese emperors got it right. Eliminate the entire clan.

Ok ok, so it’s illegal and morally reprehensible. But a girl CAN dream.

Hypocrisy is alive and well, people. Don’t let the folks in human resources, training centres and leadership seminars tell you otherwise.

And speaking of hypocrisy, with the run up to polling day, campaigning is reaching fever pitch. I regret not registering for it. How was I to know election was going to be called only 3 years into the full 5 year term?

Caught me off guard actually. Public opinion towards the ruling government is at its low what with the adverse events involving the judiciary, indiscreet politicians, crackdown on bloggers etc etc which all resulted in loud (and physical) calls for change from those fed up with the current status quo. It’s actually quite advantageous for the PKR/DAP/PAS Barisan Rakyat really. Then the question is, is UMNO really that fearful of Anwar? ( I mean why else would there be such a need to call for elections just one month shy from when Anwar could be free to contest again.)

I was about to take two steps back and say that this is not a political blog, but then, as a Malaysian and a non-bumi at that, can I still say that I am apolitical? Can I afford not to be political?

Lunar New Year

I must apologise for the total lack of entries this Chinese New Year. My grandmother, the grand matriarch of the clan, the Cixi of the domain that is Kampar Road Flats, suffered a stroke just before the New Year. She is 82. And now very weak. Her movement is severely limited now. This is a lady who used to happily go gallivanting in and around Penang island, climbing up and down 5 stories from her top floor flat. Anyway as its after midnight and as pictures do say a thousand words, here is the lot.

Keong Hee Huat Chye

Sacrifice

Give give give give give give give give give.
Then stop.
Then wonder if there is any point in it all.
But then old habits die hard. And hope is one of the oldest and most stubborn habit ever known to man.
Banking on some delayed gratification, we heave a sigh and give again.

For my cat friends

We're the Mafia cats
Bugsy, Franco and Toni
We're crazy for pizza
With hot pepperoni
We run all the rackets
From gambling to vice
On St valentines day
We massacre mice
We always wear shades
To show that we are meanies
Big hats and sharp suits
And drive Lamborghinis

We're the Mafia Cats
Bugsy, Franco and Toni
Love sicilian wine
And cheese macaroni
But we have a secret
(And if you tell
You'll end up with the kitten
At the bottom of the well
Or covered in concrete
And thrown into the deep
For this is one secret
You really must keep)

We're the Cosa Nostra
Run the scams and the fiddles
But at home we are Mopsy, Ginger and Tiddles.

(Mafia Cats by Roger McGough)

Lion dance anyone?

I am not sure if it is the mass commercialism, the tacky oriental decorations or the nerve wrecking Chinese New Year songs but I think I went a little overboard with my newfound enthusiasm.

My hair stylist has given me red highlights. Purely for Chinese New Year, I admit. So Cina, right? Thank goodness I am returning to my clanhouse for the holidays. I can fit in with the ah lians of Air Itam. I hope I didn't just insult the people of Air Itam.

My highlights are supposed to turn a striking reddish hue within a few weeks. In the sun, I already look like I have lantern tassels as hair extensions. I pray to my ancestors that it will turn into a sexy deeper red but knowing my luck, I may end up like Cindy Lauper or worse, the host of one of those awful RTM 2 Pesta AngPow variety programs.
Si liao la!

Of Lo Sang and Breast Pumps

The Sofa has been enjoying some quiet time by itself lately as I have had absolutely no time to bestow it any love (or for that matter cookie crumbs, bits of writing paper and specks of salted potato chips).

These past weekends, I have been occupied with what seems like a kazillion things to do, to buy, to procrastinate and to forget. Not to mention backbreaking but fun days out. I think I covered every major mall in the past week. Not to shop mind you, but to eat!

This is really the best part of:
1. having friends
2. being Chinese (quasi anyway)
3. staying in Malaysia

because all roads lead to food.

The highlight was certainly the reunion of ex-colleagues at the Ming Room at Bangsar Shopping Village. In typical fashion, it was crowded for Sunday brunch but thanks to the wisdom and foresight of one (which obviously was not your truly), the rest of us enjoyed the comfort and smugness of having a reserved table. First Lo Sang of the festive season!

Say what you want but even in this day and age, it is not conventional being unmarried when one is already in her 30s (yes, I am able to say that now without my mom having to reach for smelling salts).

Almost all my girlfriends are now already with kids, having kids or planning to have kids. I am still having the time of my life being a kid so after discussing breast milk, placenta and body clocks, I am surprised that I have not been reduced to rocking in a foetal position, at the corner of the room.

Being perpetually surrounded by all these pregnant women, its effects on me has been a little mind boggling if not completely wierd. Ashamedly I caught myself checking out strollers and baby carriers of all things! When I am on the street, at Baskin Robins and yes, I was stealing admiring glances as WWK's baby carrier at the reunion. All this when I should be checking out men!

I doubt I am developing nesting instincts. It is important to note that I am not interested in the child, just the accessories. It’s like, so cute, you know. My future kid will get so many gadgets she/he will be the first geek in pre-school, I swear. Then it’s on to world domination.

Taiping mali

The brother and I made a trip home and it was sure nice to be back. Here are some pictures of our familiar haunts. The Taiping wet market, night market, cashier market.

You can still get a piece of kuih for 30 cents here. The bottom right photo is of See San, our famous ice kacang stall. It has been years since I attempted their Black Mountain ice kacang. Black because black gula melaka is the syrup of choice and mountain because its packed into this tall pinnacle that if eaten without skill would result in a wet mess all over the table. I made an ex-boyfriend go through a baptism by ice kacang once. He made it. Too bad the relationship didn't.