Goodbye sweet youth,
gurgling down the drain
Yesterday I turned 30. Given the liberties I’ve taken with the word “weekly”, you may be reading this a year later when I’m actually 31, but right now it’s 14 November 2002.
My mother came over from Singapore to buy me presents: a new vacuum cleaner, a new spongey mop, and a new square bucket that the mop fits neatly into. Also, several bottles of cleaning products, all boasting ways to make cleaning easier. Thanks mum!
The point is, no cleaning would be easiest of all. Couldn’t she just have given me a self-cleaning house? I know they exist – I saw one on tv.
I made a birthday rhubarb-pear-apple crumble for breakfast, and bought myself a bunch of lotus flowers at the growers market. The sweet smell of them reminds me of the cute Japanese-made erasers I had as a child.
I got my passport extended for another three years, while I decide if it’s better to be a Malaysian (“civilised” nations look upon you with suspicion because you might be a Muslim terrorist) or an Australian (Muslim extremists want to kill you because you support George Bush II in the war against them).
I bought the new Pearl Jam album. How could it be 11 years since I found them?
I ran away from XXXXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXX that was exactly the same as last year, and was another thing that reminds me I’m in exactly the same place I was exactly a year ago.
At the end of the day, my answering machine had been sung Happy Birthday to five times. Thanks friendly voices! I feel much better!
- – -
before i had a “blog”, i used to write a sporadically updated letter on the front page of my website. this is one of them. i am consolidating it into these archives, because i can.