This blog is dedicated to the three most special people in my life:

my beautiful, big-hearted baby sister and her valiant, generous hubby, and my most loyal and supportive friend YS – thank you for helping me eat better, look beyond my feet, reach out, live my dreams and keep on keeping on, knowing always that I am loved!

guardian angel

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My baby girl has been unwell. A yeast infection. Poor darling, she has been very brave and spunky, but I notice the little signs of discomfort, like sleeping more than usual (yes, I never thought that was possible for a Greyhound!), walking slower, subtle tiredness and not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings. She still attacks her food with her usual gusto, though, so that is a good sign.

And she still watches over me, from her comfy spots in bed and the couch. Continue reading



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The rain was playing tricks with us today. First it poured, so we thought we’d cancel our little outing, then the sun emerged, and we decided to go ahead. While in the bus, the skies opened up again. We made our way back to our old neighbourhood in the rain. I had forgotten my rain hat, but I was very glad I remembered Lucy’s raincoat and my Princess was nice and dry. When we arrived at our favourite pet supplies shop, Rupert and Dora, the sun decided to make another appearance!

I am exhausted from the sensory overload and physical effort, but it was well worth it. The nearer we got to ‘home’ the more Lucy became excited, sniffing the air, sniffing the trees and she was actually smiling. It brought bake memories of an incident some time ago, when we were walking near our old home, a lady stopped us and remarked, “Do you know, your dog is smiling?” Of course, she had a marvelous time at Rupert and Dora, where her beloved Auntie Sylvie showered her with kisses and treats! Mumma came away with three bully sticks and Auntie Sylvie threw in one huge beef chewie as a present to Lucy! Continue reading

multi-textural ruminations

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A rainy week. Yes, the earth needs to be watered. We do understand. But we cannot help it if our senses recoil from the effects. Lucy hates the rain. I do not yet understand the specifics, such is the nature of purely sensorial non-verbal / semantic communication. There are always pros and cons, of course. I have a plethora of reasons for my revulsion, though. Physical pain in various parts of my corporeal anatomy (let’s skip the specifics, shall we?). Despondent depression, the colour and smell of mud mixed with vomit, woven into a heavy cloak, wrapped around my spirit. Two to go, is that illustrative enough yet?

I volunteered to participate in a study on autism related empathy. It was on a Tuesday morning. Driving rain. We sallied forth regardless. I have taught myself to press on, regardless (as far as possible) of my own sensory state, for the sake of that thing called commitment and honouring one’s word. I do not always apply this principle wisely or to my own advantage, though. Fluidity is a struggle for my brain. Lucy was an Angel, she trotted on valiantly, despite the assaultive rain. It must’ve been that much louder for her senses, the water splattering on her raincoat, and the affect all the more severe? I pressed on, we were brave soldiers, Tally Ho! Continue reading


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My brain has not rebooted back into full verbal mode. It’s been somewhat soggy lately, the weather, as well as my verbal abilities. Lucy doesn’t need words, we speak through our senses, and that is such a comfortable medium for me. The weather, temperature and humidity affects the senses in a very concrete and powerful way. Most people don’t grasp the intensity of it, unless they suffer the consequences themselves. The wet and damp also triggers a purplish-green depression that seeps in through the feet, knees and top of the head, then leaves a sticky layer of sickly vomit clinging to the skin. All I can do is to keep on keeping on, knowing that the rain and its accompaniments of pain and gloom will not last forever. Continue reading


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Jam packed Sunday. But we had great fun. The sunshine returned, after a few days of rain. We love the sunshine, Lucy and I. I experimented with a few crochet flowers. I’ve not made any for some time, and the tension wasn’t too even, but with some practice, I think I’ll get better at it. I think the turquoise flower looks cute on Lucy’s red collar. Lucy lay on the couch, basking in the sunshine, while I ate lunch. A quickie lunch of noodles, home grown veggie, preserved salted verggie and an egg. I am quite pleased with the way my little container garden is coming along. The Asian greens are tasty and tender.

The highlight of the day was our trip to Coogee Beach. Continue reading


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A picture speaks a thousand words, they say? Here are a few thousand of those words, in that case. And if you’d like more, then carry on reading… If not, it’s ok too. This blog isn’t an ego trip, really, so feel free to just enjoy the visuals!

I have been in non-verbal modality lately, but happily indulging in the pleasures of work. A beloved friend is moving house, and she has bequeathed a vast amount of material that I need for my upcoming exhibition. What blessedness! I have been sorting, touching, engaging with concrete substances in the sensory didactic, and being in that milieu is calming and pleasurable. However, at the back of my mind, the anxiety monster is reminding me that I have a lot of text to read, assimilate, ponder, philosophise, analyse, and words of my own to write. Semanticity is a cogent entrenchment. That is the reality. But I do my best to meander, skip, hop, and dance around it.

When babble fails, only then do we reach for our senses. Yet, many are unaware that our senses have been actively sending messages in a complex network of communication, regardless. Continue reading


Wet, wet, wet, soggy doggy day. Lucy and I are not happy troopers. But we are troopers nevertheless. If that makes any sense? Thinking about seepage… My brain is still in non-verbal modality, so here are some word stims, dressed up as poetry, (for the sake of empathic reciprocity between neurologies – we try to use common terminology?)…




seeping, creeping, dripping, bubbling

slithering under

fabric of dynamic matter

burdensome smells

dark eloquence



dysthymic blobs

frothy socks

soggy paws

shake, shake, shake

cellular fizz





permeating mist

it tastes blue

looking for shelter

green umbrellas

boggy floors

pitter patter

breathing water

cold feet

absorbing through holes

in reflective cheese


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Here is the food. Here is my Love. Here are some words. I am exhausted from too much verbal-social interaction. It isn’t that I did not enjoy my friends, it’s just that three friends in two days is more than I should’ve scheduled. I had a great time, each time, but my brain is now completely addled. I need to retreat. Back into unspoken communion with the elements. And with my non-verbal verbose Angel. Until then… enjoy the visuals.

fall asleep

head on lap

radiant warmth

paw in hand

touch a leaf

watery A-flat

silent song

velvet sand

no need to speak

walk with me

two step four

we understand

(2014 08 17)


breadful thoughts

I have not baked any bread lately. During my first year here, I was living on just one scholarship and I couldn’t afford to buy bread, so I baked my own. Not being a baker, I had to experiment and make do. I never threw any ‘failures’ away, everything was good food, edible, to be eaten. Since getting the second scholarship, I have been able to buy cheap bread, nothing fancy, and eat a little better. More importantly, I am now able to buy material for my art (a tube of glue, a ball of string, nails and screws – all these things cost money) and to save for my travels to present at conferences , exhibitions and performances (because travel grants only cover a third of all expenses).

Today, I was sorting out some visual files and stumbled across these photos, from October 2012, of my home baked bread. Back then, my little Angel was a little more polite when asking for food! I remember baking extra to share with one of my homeless friends. We’d meet in the mornings when I walked Lucy, have a little chat and share the occasional bread roll. He loved Lucy, and Lucy obliged by wagging her tail at him, and letting him hug and kiss her.

How time flies. I wonder where he is now. The last time we chatted, he told me he was applying for assisted housing. He was also worried about an operation that he needed to have done. I hope he is well, and managed to get that decent roof over his head. He is an old man.

I think I shall revive the recipe this weekend.

a date with Lucy

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Every day is a special day, another date, with Beautiful Lucy. Even the low days. In fact, Lucy has made every single bad day that much more bearable because she is in it.

Today was a sensorially challenging day. I am rambling now, I can feel the words just dribbling down without much cohesive control. It feels as if the gear box has broken and the steering wheel is spinning in my hands. So be forewarned, this is a babbling post. I am in incoherent mode.

I had to go to my art studio to get some work sorted out. We both dislike the bus ride to and from my studio at the other campus. I love living in this apartment, but I miss our old neighbourhood, and I really miss being able to walk to my art studio. It doesn’t help at all that the friendly and kind bus driver has left the job, and the new driver dislikes Lucy. He shows it too. He mumbled something about disliking dogs, but then quickly corrected himself by saying he is actually allergic to dogs. When he sees us, he gets out of the bus, makes a point to stand a distance away, and looks at us disapprovingly. He will not get back into the bus until it is time to move off. When we arrive at our destination, he quickly exits, stands away again, looking at us in that way, as if we were diseased. I make it a point to be pleasant, regardless. I always smile at him, wave at him and thank him. But it is unpleasant. Add to that, the loud music he plays while driving, the jerky movements, bouncing, and zooming round corners, Lucy becomes agitated and I break into cold sweat holding on to Lucy. She even slipped and fell on one trip. Continue reading