– Allan Gurganus
Here is a thought. This guy is damn right, by the way.
As it happens, my mouth is dry and my fingers too. For a few days already. Not that nothing happens. I just can’t tell my stories, because I don’t find the angle that makes me laugh. Or think.
That’s what I want my ideal reader to feel when passing by randomly on this public diary. I want you to feel laughing or thinking.
Usually I would tell you about my yesterday running in the sudden monsoon near my house on the way to buy some Chili O’Crab, and everybody started to stare, and I started to frown, until I remembered that my wet top newly was white. The good thing is that, well, I can keep my composure quite well. Even when mortified inside. The other good thing is that as I was already running, it did not look like fleeing when I started to sprint back home. No. No no.
See, stuff happens. Small things, big things. But then, I just don’t feel telling. Today.
I am drowning in work, cheating on Babylove with my job, not unwillingly I must say as I really like what I do. Also, Love cheats on both of us with his own job.
This is the Singapore fever.
That’s okay though. For if I can’t tell, I can still draw. And this is something Babylove and I share. And the curls.