My muse is in my cupboard.
I saw her lying there, snoring quietly.
She waited two years for me to return, in a gentle, dreamless sleep, and here I am.
You cannot write anything very meaningful in a place that has no feelings.
The moon did not change. It is still a pale, translucent white, the exact same colour as the clouds in the sky. Like cinderella- as night falls, her sisters lose their brightness, but she shines with light.
The sky is a wan blue. We never get the deep blue skies of california or Ithaca. Either a tight white sheet that rumbles with a stomachache, or a very light, pale blue that threatens to fade into nothingness. I think our sky has the galloping consumption.
I rode Madeleine to Sembawang beach with my Dad today. Too many people everywhere. We saw lavender plumes curling up from the bbq pits in Sembawang park. I never really noticed the colour of bbq smoke. There were mists hovering above the ground after the rain. Kids running around screaming like banshees, itty bitty prams and bicycles with training wheels obstructing Madeleine’s path. I made the acquaintance with two new babies in church today – Jeanette and Chloe. Still don’t see what all the fuss about, although I did volunteer to babysit Jeanette & co. because it seems socially appropriate to show an absurd amount of interest in other people’s progeny.
I wish I had legs like my dad’s. He hasn’t got an ounce of superfluous flesh on his legs (I was biking behind him) whereas I am covered up to my eyelids with superfluous flesh. His are useful, workhorse-y legs and I guess I wouldn’t like to be a workhorse.
After that we rode to a little coffee shop near the shopping centre and we had ice kacang and ice jelly and made a pact not to tell my mother. She would certainly frown upon it. For she
“put her scowls in a tumbler
half filled with Sterodent
so they’d keep nice and fresh for me.”