One girl loves you certainly. Maybe two you could count, with the second running a long, patient campaign from a remove. The third might have loved you 4 ½-5 years ago, before she took fright somehow badly and now when she is the one always in mind you can’t draw her back. Can’t persuade her by any means, not with any of your inspired mails and declarations. The last three years at least on and off you have been trying. Two days ago she offered the first little glimmer of some possibility, almost unreal when the mail arrived…. can’t promise to meet you today. Actually, i really like to talk to you. But i don’t know why, my heart always againts it. So sorry P.
When the experts confirm your own practice you get that old bulletproof feeling from younger days: exercises kept up a number of years now; milk, yoghurt, nuts that have always been part of the diet; oranges too from way back. Washing fruit has long been habitual. The hand-washing has not been too difficult to adopt and you were on the way to eliminating nose-picking some while ago. Face-touching is the biggest challenge, but there has been some progress there too. At this age twitchy fiddles should have been overcome.. (Poor Slavoj Zizek, presumably now equipped with some kind of special face cover.)
Solzhenitsyn, Levi, Cormac Mc & the others long ago outlined what is in store. Going into the kitchen to make brekkie it was best to stash the wallet somewhere out of harm’s way. In the pillowcase would do for the 10 mins while the cereal was consumed in the back garden. The Buddhist handyman was more than likely irreproachable, but better be safe than sorry. (Man was outta work.)
Another cat story yesterday that Jeanette in Block 11 needed to tell. With the morning sun scorching already we retreated to the shade of a tree. The poor trapped puss was heard crying in a drain. Not a grill-covered drain, one of the ones with the flat steel doors. Very hard to lift and then how to properly secure again for safety. A few days later along the line the poor thing was heard again. Coaxing it toward an opening, food lowered, enticed out eventually, and then the skin and bones plain to see. In short order it was foisted upon Auntie Helen. Who else would take her in and nurse her back to health? Wang Lin who had helped Jeanette with rescue has been told by her father, any more cats in the flat he would fling them from the balcony. (Helen subsequently reported Jo from Block 2 immediately bursting into tears upon hearing the tale. Useless tears in place of action, Helen felt.) Following the successful mission Jeanette, who worships up on Tanjong Katong Road at Charis Tabernacle, prayed to god: with his protection she would continue all her good works as usual. Works which did indeed run quite some way. Not now the place for elaboration.
Slip slidin away as usual otherwise the corona. One moment envisioning the sequence of cough, air passages blocked and a non-citz confined to a trolley in the hospital corridors; then the next some little fancy provides forgetting—an encounter, cloud shapes, thoughts of the night’s supper. Passing girls of course worked wonders still. On the walk back from the Buddhist lunch a lass at the Haig was given a little electric shock when the stride was timed just right with her backswing and a firm hit achieved high on the thigh. Nearly jumped outta her skin poor thing.
This morning at Al-Azhar a large group of raucous older Malay gents disdained precautions of any kind, hand-shaking and sitting tight shoulder to shoulder. Hahaha chat throughout. Old donkeys, you uncharitably thought, and even spoke the epithet to the young waiter Jordan. (A non-Muslim.) Lots of the Malays have left the whole matter to Allah. He knew best. The virus came as a reminder too possibly for the ummah venturing from the path—in recent days that has been voiced more than once. At midnight last night the Malaysians closed the Causeway and of course anticipating alarm the front page of the Straits Times carried reassurances from Muhyiddin, the new backdoor PM up there, that food supplies would continue as normal, no need fret.
The old bald Chin uncle in his late seventies who has kept up his exercise regime through all these years was caught in the afternoon by the Void on Block 11 like a Mussie with his arms out, almost definitely sunbaking palms.
Late night news of an evangelical gathering in Sulawesi similar to Tabligh in KL a week ago that had infected numerous hundreds. Flesh and body was one thing, one of the participants was reported as saying; soul entirely another.
No comments:
Post a Comment