Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Those Other People
When you come across some blogs, don't you just wonder what the writer is like, what he/she looks like. When they sound jolly all the time, are they naturally jolly, so jolly that they string sentences full of jolliness all the time, as it is? Or are they so good that no un-jolliness able to penetrate anything that they write when they don’t fell so jolly?
That’s one aspect of blogging that keeps me wondering. The other one is, fair enough some people write in such disguise that nobody knows who they are. Ability inert to only certain people I suppose. I, me, I won’t be able to do that, there is so much to me to disguise so as to not make me sound not me. I won’t stand a chance of writing in a vague mysterious way.
Standing on the other side of the river bank I sometimes wonder though, whoelse reads my thoughts? Everybody that knows me? All ex boyfriends? And ex boyfriends’ new girlfriends? Nearly becoming boyfriends’ psycho ex-girlfriends? Psycho never were girlfriends?
Today, I was yet again on call and all the time I was buzzing with hives of thoughts. Raw, warm and thick. Bit like Sunday roast dinner sauce at Haileybury.
When it was all quiet, I thought about what people I know are doing, because good thoughts of my own, about things around me, left me all of a sudden such that my being at this particular time feels like being on the Circle Line to meet T-Rex in South Kensington on one of those exeats. Exciting and out of control.
She’s meeting that American guy we both met in Bangkok for a movie in KL. I love what the guy has between his shoulders. On the tour bus in Bangkok, we spent hours just talking about basic tenets of life. I learnt that such man exists.
He’s wandering in Borders, with his couple friends. I wonder what books he reads. Never told me he reads any particular author, never recited any particular lines from anywhere. A guy who reads is like a goldmine, and excavation of such minds gives me orgasm to the point of destruction. Having said that, a walking dictionary is NOT, I repeat not my ultimate desire. I wonder if a guy who corrects my grammar will turn me on.
That particular other he, is going to propose to that girl he knew for a week.
The other he, is now in a new relationship, probably still bitter about the end to it all. Still jamming the base, still keeping his good superstar looks, and supernatural voice. Still probably with the new hairstyle. Always liked him with a short spiky hair armouring his precious philosophical grey matter. So close yet so far.
That other she, found my blog and to you my married friend without any babies yet “Oiii…pergi study!!”
That other he, is cruising in his BMW thinking of where to go for next holiday, where to put the next RM 50K, where to shop for his 7 month old son’s shoes. Remember saying to him on our last phone conversation ‘Make sure you do your job’, I said, and he said ‘Boss, won’t let you down, I don’t even ask for the 6.7% and only done that to Sultan Johore PA, once’. He’s never been not charming.
That other she, is going to Cambridge for an SpR interview. Pillow talked for about 2 hours on Sunday. ‘You know what Mie, I can always rely on you for a pick me up words. Like Solero on a hot day. I am sooo confident now, bring on those suckers (has been translated carefully)!!!’. Aiyo girlfriend don’t be too gunho with those poor consultants on at least one heart medication. Heart attack them there how? We laughed off our worries with some fairytales only the two of us could comprehend. The time we slept at Algeciras ferry terminal because we were sent back from Tangier without possesion of a visa into Morocco, we thought we're going to meet two gorgeous, tall, tanned lonely planet backpacker guys stranded exactly like us and we would spend the whole night playing spinning the bottle and it's all 'truth' and no 'dares'. Nothing like that happened but we did get marriage proposals on the way from Fes to Rabat. Looks like she’s gotten over the guy from the Balkans.
Many other he-s and she-s are out there probably worth mentioning , but I can’t because they don’t reach my memory at the moment.
The paths crossed, memories emblemmed into pictures, songs and scents, fears shared, laughter cashed, gazes caught in a moment or two, warm touches, heartfelt passion waterfalled, floods of rage broke the dam as dispute paid a visit once or twice . Separately, one after the other, all at once. Whichever way, what is life when these, are just things you can think of and not feel.
Last night, I have been part of the vehicle delivering the blessing so that, that guy with thrombosed piles from lifting heavy objects today can finally sit like a normal human being. I am also in there somewhere when we all helped saving that woman from an oozing uterine artey after the hysterectomy which left for another hour or so would warrant her a tombstone or a slot in the crematorium.
Maybe she shouldn’t have had that thing which to some women is a definition of being a woman, out in the first place. Not the vagina, the other one. Have we been tampering with fate?
That’s one aspect of blogging that keeps me wondering. The other one is, fair enough some people write in such disguise that nobody knows who they are. Ability inert to only certain people I suppose. I, me, I won’t be able to do that, there is so much to me to disguise so as to not make me sound not me. I won’t stand a chance of writing in a vague mysterious way.
Standing on the other side of the river bank I sometimes wonder though, whoelse reads my thoughts? Everybody that knows me? All ex boyfriends? And ex boyfriends’ new girlfriends? Nearly becoming boyfriends’ psycho ex-girlfriends? Psycho never were girlfriends?
Today, I was yet again on call and all the time I was buzzing with hives of thoughts. Raw, warm and thick. Bit like Sunday roast dinner sauce at Haileybury.
When it was all quiet, I thought about what people I know are doing, because good thoughts of my own, about things around me, left me all of a sudden such that my being at this particular time feels like being on the Circle Line to meet T-Rex in South Kensington on one of those exeats. Exciting and out of control.
She’s meeting that American guy we both met in Bangkok for a movie in KL. I love what the guy has between his shoulders. On the tour bus in Bangkok, we spent hours just talking about basic tenets of life. I learnt that such man exists.
He’s wandering in Borders, with his couple friends. I wonder what books he reads. Never told me he reads any particular author, never recited any particular lines from anywhere. A guy who reads is like a goldmine, and excavation of such minds gives me orgasm to the point of destruction. Having said that, a walking dictionary is NOT, I repeat not my ultimate desire. I wonder if a guy who corrects my grammar will turn me on.
That particular other he, is going to propose to that girl he knew for a week.
The other he, is now in a new relationship, probably still bitter about the end to it all. Still jamming the base, still keeping his good superstar looks, and supernatural voice. Still probably with the new hairstyle. Always liked him with a short spiky hair armouring his precious philosophical grey matter. So close yet so far.
That other she, found my blog and to you my married friend without any babies yet “Oiii…pergi study!!”
That other he, is cruising in his BMW thinking of where to go for next holiday, where to put the next RM 50K, where to shop for his 7 month old son’s shoes. Remember saying to him on our last phone conversation ‘Make sure you do your job’, I said, and he said ‘Boss, won’t let you down, I don’t even ask for the 6.7% and only done that to Sultan Johore PA, once’. He’s never been not charming.
That other she, is going to Cambridge for an SpR interview. Pillow talked for about 2 hours on Sunday. ‘You know what Mie, I can always rely on you for a pick me up words. Like Solero on a hot day. I am sooo confident now, bring on those suckers (has been translated carefully)!!!’. Aiyo girlfriend don’t be too gunho with those poor consultants on at least one heart medication. Heart attack them there how? We laughed off our worries with some fairytales only the two of us could comprehend. The time we slept at Algeciras ferry terminal because we were sent back from Tangier without possesion of a visa into Morocco, we thought we're going to meet two gorgeous, tall, tanned lonely planet backpacker guys stranded exactly like us and we would spend the whole night playing spinning the bottle and it's all 'truth' and no 'dares'. Nothing like that happened but we did get marriage proposals on the way from Fes to Rabat. Looks like she’s gotten over the guy from the Balkans.
Many other he-s and she-s are out there probably worth mentioning , but I can’t because they don’t reach my memory at the moment.
The paths crossed, memories emblemmed into pictures, songs and scents, fears shared, laughter cashed, gazes caught in a moment or two, warm touches, heartfelt passion waterfalled, floods of rage broke the dam as dispute paid a visit once or twice . Separately, one after the other, all at once. Whichever way, what is life when these, are just things you can think of and not feel.
Last night, I have been part of the vehicle delivering the blessing so that, that guy with thrombosed piles from lifting heavy objects today can finally sit like a normal human being. I am also in there somewhere when we all helped saving that woman from an oozing uterine artey after the hysterectomy which left for another hour or so would warrant her a tombstone or a slot in the crematorium.
Maybe she shouldn’t have had that thing which to some women is a definition of being a woman, out in the first place. Not the vagina, the other one. Have we been tampering with fate?
