Friday, September 16, 2005
Writer's Blog
A... sitcom moment.
They were kinda sweet, in a slightly offbeat way.
He glanced at her, automatically.
And found the glance returned.
His lips twitched in a smile. Unpremeditated. The moment... demanded it.
The smile... wasn't returned. It was shared; the moment was simultaneous, synchronous.
And then it was over, and they glanced away.
Familiar.
*****
Why do you do it, he asked. Remembrance? Or are you not quite over Her?
The truth was hard to explain; even to a new friend who he sensed he had... something indefinable in common with. And especially while he was driving and slightly full of dessert wine.
The words to him the next day as he wasclinging on to running on the mechanised hamster wheel.
"Somehow it was indecent once to write... I had to hold my silence. For Her, somehow. Now the time has come when things matter less... When I matter less. And now is the time I must write, lest I forget - and lose the only decent part of myself left. That is why."
******
So was it just about... (the words are a little lost in time now) wordless intuition, he (Brian) had asked.
He thought for a while.
******
"I can't believe I'm sitting here, alone in my flat laughing my head off in front of the computer. The neighbours must think I'm loony..."
He watched the words appear on screen, and laughed.
There was something about the way they laughed that he would never forget; something simple, yet not. Something wholly spontaneous. Something... shared.
******
"What? Just plain coke?" to the effusive waitor hellbent on explaining everything on the menu to Her.
He didn't need to watch the waitor to feel the glare he received.
Instead, he glanced at Her, as She glanced back. They laughed at each other with their eyes.
******
He listened as She made Her speech. She was going to win - he knew it.
It was odd, as if He knew the words in advance; as if He knew the corridors within her mind that she would turn down next; the witticisms She would let fly.
She was devastating.
And She did win, in the end.
******
No, it was about more than wordless intuition. It was about words; and wordlessness. It was about... too many vague thoughts, shapes and ideas to explain. Which held poignancy, memorability. Significance.
To me.
******
Alternates
A lull in conversation.
They smiled at each other, then he reached into his pocket and took out a fifty-cent coin.
He looked up.
*****
Call it, He said.
She called it.
It all felt so final, so... cold as it parted from between his thumb and forefinger.
The coin flipped end on end in its upward arc, slowing towards an inescapable conclusion.
He watched her as it spun...
******
She waited till it fell, and asked Him Why.
He smiled, and said it had to be so. That fate had lent him the courage to do what He had to.
She asked Him what it meant.
He reached out and took hold of Her hand, and said gently - it meant goodbye, forever.
He stood, paid the bill, and left.
Perhaps he paused as he walked away; perhaps he didn't.
He didn't look back. He couldn't. In case He saw those eyes again.
******
She caught the coin as it landed, and put it away.
And demanded an explanation.
She seized his moment from him thoughtlessly and selfishly - in the extreme. It saddened, and possibly angered him a little.
Perhaps he answered Her, perhaps He didn't. That if She had called Heads, he would have left forever, and if She had called tails, He would have stayed and gone on pretending that friendship was enough; that his heart wasn't breaking, that he could be perfect for Her, forever. Perhaps he told Her more - that He was going to skew the flip Heads, no matter what. Or perhaps He didn't.
And perhaps She became angry, or perhaps just sad and bewildered.
And then he stood up, paused to pay the bill, and left.
*****
She picked the coin out of the air, and grinned.
She didn't understand at all. She couldn't see it coming, and His heart died a little more.
*****
He took the coin from his pocket, and looked up.
Her eyes were so beautiful.
He didn't have the chance to say a word. She took his hands in hers, and said just one word.
"Don't."
*****
“To say that would be presuming that my work is my life, and it is not.”
It was almost as if he knew the answer before he even asked. He was rather surprised when he asked it anyway.
*****
I once felt work would be my life - even after meeting Her. And especially in the aftermath
I wanted to wear the mantle of daytime physician, yet dedicate my life to research. Very Susan Lim - very altruistic.
I wanted to be crash-hot at everything I did, and hold my head high, be something.. more than I was. Stand for something.
Make that proverbial difference. And make it big.
Live, for others.
Somehow, something changed along the way.
It was an answer I knew well.
It would not have been Your answer, I suspect.
Our paths have changed.
*****
Why didn't we meet up earlier? She asked.
She said She had told all her friends about him coming over; she spoke about the things she had wanted to do, go blading, go out, see stuff...
He said he didn't want to interfere with Her exams. And left unspoken the part about this being his last goodbye.
*****
As I listened to her talk about her magic moments, about how they played hide and seek in the house, and how they played some bizarre game in a swimming pool called Genghis Khan. Or was it Marco Polo...
I couldn't help but smile wryly.
It was so sweet.
So wonderful to hear. So warm.
We never got to do all the things you wanted, or all the things I wanted, You and I.
We just shared words, and meals.
And moments.
I wouldn't trade it for all the ice skating in the world.
*****
I remember when I met her. She was a little wide-eyed, fresh-faced, and square-jawed. Her shoulders were pleasantly wide, her arms perhaps a tad too thick - not toned, just thick. She had the most beautiful eyes.
She wasn't beautiful, just rather pretty.
She spoke, and it was obvious from the first words that words commanded her - and not the other way around.
She did not have Watcher's eyes - they were beautiful to behold, but so... incomplete.
I wouldn't have looked twice, to be honest. She epitomised many of the things about this country that I don't particularly cherish.
But sometimes our arms would brush, skin on skin... and something... comforting lay within.
Not quite lust... just... something wordless. Silent. Peaceful.
I looked again, and then again. She is sweet, and not-sweet to those she doesn't care for - a creature of abject simplicity. A child.
For a not-so fleeting moment, I nearly forgot the lessons of my past...
... but I remember now. And I want nothing more than to be... decent.
*****
They were sort-of eyeing the girls around them, as the (amazing) sounds of the jazz band washed over them.
So what does she score, out of ten?
Kenya? Brian said, and smiled to himself, his mind somewhere else for a moment.
She's a ten...
He took a swig of his Strongbow cider (yeha, teenage yobism here I come) and said "You're lucky."
They're lucky.
*****
Do I meet perfect tens?
Just one this lifetime. Thus far.
Of course, the number also factors in various subtleties, like :
unexpressive eyes : -1
unspontaneous : -2 to -5
not funny : -0.5 to -10
not eloquent : -0.5 to -5
not trust-able (as opposed to trustworthy) : -6
attached : -10
and
heavily photoshopped : -20000000
laugh
*****
Who was... V.
He wasn't expecting it, and he blurted out a reply before he could stop himself.
Caught offguard.
Damn.... when was the last time that happened?
How bizarre.
*****
9:53
A foolish decision, today, to run after four and a half hours sleep the night before, and after an extensive upper body workout.
I didn't so much run it as get dragged along by the machine.
The body screamed out its protests... you are asking too much, too fast... too difficult....
You crank it up to fifteen at the one kilometer mark.
You dig deeper; maybe you even cheat a little andcling hold on to the handrails (and honestly, it had nothing to do with the girl with the beautiful shoulders) and will yourself to go on.
You feel the bile rising in your throat... faster still. You glance down at the droplets - not so much dripping as cascading - off your skin onto the treadmill.
And when its finally over, you can barely hold back the bile as you stagger over to a chair and collapse into it.
It takes me half an hour to cool down after running.
But that high you get.... euphoria doesn't begin to come close.
I used to imagine that I'd double the distance once I broke my ten minute barrier... but today, the warrior princess messaged me to ask what my next breach would be... and I realised my purpose.
To run the whole damn thing through at fifteen.
God willing, I'll survive.
*****
Sometime later, it happened (quite suddenly) :
Twenty five meters. Fifteen pulls.
One breath.
Over, and over again.
A couple of giant german guys noticed after a while and tried to copy me.
Heh heh heh. heh. heh. Suck water, ya!
*****
It's the difference between writing, and blogging, he said.
He smiled.
Precisely.
*****
So what's your take on the internet as a medium for meeting partners? (sic) (hic!)
Her question caught him by surprise. It was a difficult question to answer. It required much more thought.
Next time I write... I will try to unravel my thoughts enough to present a coherent answer.
Till then : what is your take on the internet as a medium... blahblah? surprise me :)
Sleep beckons, at last.
They were kinda sweet, in a slightly offbeat way.
He glanced at her, automatically.
And found the glance returned.
His lips twitched in a smile. Unpremeditated. The moment... demanded it.
The smile... wasn't returned. It was shared; the moment was simultaneous, synchronous.
And then it was over, and they glanced away.
Familiar.
*****
Why do you do it, he asked. Remembrance? Or are you not quite over Her?
The truth was hard to explain; even to a new friend who he sensed he had... something indefinable in common with. And especially while he was driving and slightly full of dessert wine.
The words to him the next day as he was
"Somehow it was indecent once to write... I had to hold my silence. For Her, somehow. Now the time has come when things matter less... When I matter less. And now is the time I must write, lest I forget - and lose the only decent part of myself left. That is why."
******
So was it just about... (the words are a little lost in time now) wordless intuition, he (Brian) had asked.
He thought for a while.
******
"I can't believe I'm sitting here, alone in my flat laughing my head off in front of the computer. The neighbours must think I'm loony..."
He watched the words appear on screen, and laughed.
There was something about the way they laughed that he would never forget; something simple, yet not. Something wholly spontaneous. Something... shared.
******
"What? Just plain coke?" to the effusive waitor hellbent on explaining everything on the menu to Her.
He didn't need to watch the waitor to feel the glare he received.
Instead, he glanced at Her, as She glanced back. They laughed at each other with their eyes.
******
He listened as She made Her speech. She was going to win - he knew it.
It was odd, as if He knew the words in advance; as if He knew the corridors within her mind that she would turn down next; the witticisms She would let fly.
She was devastating.
And She did win, in the end.
******
No, it was about more than wordless intuition. It was about words; and wordlessness. It was about... too many vague thoughts, shapes and ideas to explain. Which held poignancy, memorability. Significance.
To me.
******
Alternates
A lull in conversation.
They smiled at each other, then he reached into his pocket and took out a fifty-cent coin.
He looked up.
*****
Call it, He said.
She called it.
It all felt so final, so... cold as it parted from between his thumb and forefinger.
The coin flipped end on end in its upward arc, slowing towards an inescapable conclusion.
He watched her as it spun...
******
She waited till it fell, and asked Him Why.
He smiled, and said it had to be so. That fate had lent him the courage to do what He had to.
She asked Him what it meant.
He reached out and took hold of Her hand, and said gently - it meant goodbye, forever.
He stood, paid the bill, and left.
Perhaps he paused as he walked away; perhaps he didn't.
He didn't look back. He couldn't. In case He saw those eyes again.
******
She caught the coin as it landed, and put it away.
And demanded an explanation.
She seized his moment from him thoughtlessly and selfishly - in the extreme. It saddened, and possibly angered him a little.
Perhaps he answered Her, perhaps He didn't. That if She had called Heads, he would have left forever, and if She had called tails, He would have stayed and gone on pretending that friendship was enough; that his heart wasn't breaking, that he could be perfect for Her, forever. Perhaps he told Her more - that He was going to skew the flip Heads, no matter what. Or perhaps He didn't.
And perhaps She became angry, or perhaps just sad and bewildered.
And then he stood up, paused to pay the bill, and left.
*****
She picked the coin out of the air, and grinned.
She didn't understand at all. She couldn't see it coming, and His heart died a little more.
*****
He took the coin from his pocket, and looked up.
Her eyes were so beautiful.
He didn't have the chance to say a word. She took his hands in hers, and said just one word.
"Don't."
*****
“To say that would be presuming that my work is my life, and it is not.”
It was almost as if he knew the answer before he even asked. He was rather surprised when he asked it anyway.
*****
I once felt work would be my life - even after meeting Her. And especially in the aftermath
I wanted to wear the mantle of daytime physician, yet dedicate my life to research. Very Susan Lim - very altruistic.
I wanted to be crash-hot at everything I did, and hold my head high, be something.. more than I was. Stand for something.
Make that proverbial difference. And make it big.
Live, for others.
Somehow, something changed along the way.
It was an answer I knew well.
It would not have been Your answer, I suspect.
Our paths have changed.
*****
Why didn't we meet up earlier? She asked.
She said She had told all her friends about him coming over; she spoke about the things she had wanted to do, go blading, go out, see stuff...
He said he didn't want to interfere with Her exams. And left unspoken the part about this being his last goodbye.
*****
As I listened to her talk about her magic moments, about how they played hide and seek in the house, and how they played some bizarre game in a swimming pool called Genghis Khan. Or was it Marco Polo...
I couldn't help but smile wryly.
It was so sweet.
So wonderful to hear. So warm.
We never got to do all the things you wanted, or all the things I wanted, You and I.
We just shared words, and meals.
And moments.
I wouldn't trade it for all the ice skating in the world.
*****
I remember when I met her. She was a little wide-eyed, fresh-faced, and square-jawed. Her shoulders were pleasantly wide, her arms perhaps a tad too thick - not toned, just thick. She had the most beautiful eyes.
She wasn't beautiful, just rather pretty.
She spoke, and it was obvious from the first words that words commanded her - and not the other way around.
She did not have Watcher's eyes - they were beautiful to behold, but so... incomplete.
I wouldn't have looked twice, to be honest. She epitomised many of the things about this country that I don't particularly cherish.
But sometimes our arms would brush, skin on skin... and something... comforting lay within.
Not quite lust... just... something wordless. Silent. Peaceful.
I looked again, and then again. She is sweet, and not-sweet to those she doesn't care for - a creature of abject simplicity. A child.
For a not-so fleeting moment, I nearly forgot the lessons of my past...
... but I remember now. And I want nothing more than to be... decent.
*****
They were sort-of eyeing the girls around them, as the (amazing) sounds of the jazz band washed over them.
So what does she score, out of ten?
Kenya? Brian said, and smiled to himself, his mind somewhere else for a moment.
She's a ten...
He took a swig of his Strongbow cider (yeha, teenage yobism here I come) and said "You're lucky."
They're lucky.
*****
Do I meet perfect tens?
Just one this lifetime. Thus far.
Of course, the number also factors in various subtleties, like :
unexpressive eyes : -1
unspontaneous : -2 to -5
not funny : -0.5 to -10
not eloquent : -0.5 to -5
not trust-able (as opposed to trustworthy) : -6
attached : -10
and
heavily photoshopped : -20000000
laugh
*****
Who was... V.
He wasn't expecting it, and he blurted out a reply before he could stop himself.
Caught offguard.
Damn.... when was the last time that happened?
How bizarre.
*****
9:53
A foolish decision, today, to run after four and a half hours sleep the night before, and after an extensive upper body workout.
I didn't so much run it as get dragged along by the machine.
The body screamed out its protests... you are asking too much, too fast... too difficult....
You crank it up to fifteen at the one kilometer mark.
You dig deeper; maybe you even cheat a little and
You feel the bile rising in your throat... faster still. You glance down at the droplets - not so much dripping as cascading - off your skin onto the treadmill.
And when its finally over, you can barely hold back the bile as you stagger over to a chair and collapse into it.
It takes me half an hour to cool down after running.
But that high you get.... euphoria doesn't begin to come close.
I used to imagine that I'd double the distance once I broke my ten minute barrier... but today, the warrior princess messaged me to ask what my next breach would be... and I realised my purpose.
To run the whole damn thing through at fifteen.
God willing, I'll survive.
*****
Sometime later, it happened (quite suddenly) :
Twenty five meters. Fifteen pulls.
One breath.
Over, and over again.
A couple of giant german guys noticed after a while and tried to copy me.
Heh heh heh. heh. heh. Suck water, ya!
*****
It's the difference between writing, and blogging, he said.
He smiled.
Precisely.
*****
So what's your take on the internet as a medium for meeting partners? (sic) (hic!)
Her question caught him by surprise. It was a difficult question to answer. It required much more thought.
Next time I write... I will try to unravel my thoughts enough to present a coherent answer.
Till then : what is your take on the internet as a medium... blahblah? surprise me :)
Sleep beckons, at last.
