dog cafe

Saturday Brunch for two again at Not Just Coffee with Rick. Our “dog cafe” in Paddo. It poured with rain earlier this morning, but we prevailed. The elements accorded a little respite, and there we were, just an hour later than our planned appointment. The ground was soaked, but anticipation of dynamic, vigorous and energetic polyphonic conversation overtook sensory aversion. We ordered something different this time. Delicious!

It is much clement to have a good friend. Very much.

pockets of clemency

Sunday brunch with Rick at “dog cafe”. A pocket of clement space. Empathic resonance. Deep laughter. Ranting at cosmic tragi-comedy. Summoning Artaud and Wagner. Light in darkness. Cosy cocoon inside Paddington.

Good to be back. But… I miss Lucy. Especially here, in our beloved Paddo.

knife

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knife

This was lunch. A late lunch. At one of my favourite cafes. The whole work of art came as photographed. Not my design, but that of its creator. In the midst of making contact with this delicious looking and fragrantly enticing installation, as if by yet another cosmic libretto of tragi-comedic farce, came spears and arrows from the deep, dark, unspeakable Abyss. In real time, the Bunny’s mindscape became a multi-dimensional stage – enter the surreal hyper-real oxymoronic characters and what have you. Wagner and Artaud, do your very best yet again! (And no, sadly, I did not manage to finish my lunch.) Continue reading

extempore

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Sashimi Set @ Ichiban Boshi

I am autistic. I really do prefer order above chaos, routine above last minute spur-of-the-moment excitement. And dinner outside of home base is actually not something I enjoy very much at all. In fact, these days, I rarely accept dinner invitations, almost never attend concerts and exhibition openings unless I was performing or exhibiting. The sensory struggle is just not worth it anymore, and I am too old for this kind of neuronormative mimicry anyway. Yet, there I was, clutching a generous gift voucher in my hand, expiring in 24 hours, dashing off to dinner in a somewhat dishevelled state: shorts, T-shirt, canvas shoes, no make-up and messy hair. Most unglamorous. But Foodie Bunny must not let this go to waste! I was on a mission! Continue reading

hangover

It is a ‘hangover’ sort of day, and I spent much of it crashed out in my bedroom with Lucy, inside a whirly heaviness. I received very sad news this morning: a dear friend, Jack, passed away on Christmas Eve. He was a beautiful entity – generous, gracious and the perfect gentleman. Jack was Lucy’s first friend after she came into my life. Lucy is a minx, but Jack was the perfect gentleman. He shared his bed, his toys and his home with Lucy, who would hijack his space every time she visited. Jack was very well loved by his dads Nick and Monty, and everyone who had the honour of knowing Jack. I paid tribute to Jack via two Facebook posts, and mark his presence here in this blog post. It is my way of etching his memory even deeper into my Space of Mind… I am processing, churning… re-locating grief and loss, re-shelving memories… re-aligning myself with beauty…

But why ‘hangover’? Why ‘crash’? Continue reading

yellow flame

It’s Christmas again, and a brand New Year peeps at us from just around the corner. Instead of jacaranda, our morning walks are now across pathways strewn with yellow flame.

Last Christmas was a season of horror. Lucy lost part of her beautiful tail in an act of sickening callousness. A travesty, a defilement of my Lucy’s purity, heralding cosmic wailings that nobody may ever be able to hear, but myself and a very few whose ears are tuned to the whispers of realms beyond human-centricity. ‘Twas a season of wading through fetid pools overflowing with flotsam and jetsam of social plastic, brittle fondnesses, meaningless verbage (verbal garbage), locked inside the iron-fisted grip of grandiose benevolence. Continue reading

bff or wtf?

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Are you offended by my expressions and paradigms of love? Have you ever stopped to wonder if I may be hurt by yours too? What are the different paradigms for connectivity and forming interpersonal bonds? How do we each express attachment and intimacy? Do we ever ask ourselves these question when we interact with friends? How about friends we have known for decades? Continue reading

foul

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rose, rose… beware those insidious piercing thorns

“Fair is foul and foul is fair: Hover through the foul and filthy air.” – Macbeth.
The normative social world is at best a confusing nightmare for a straight-thinking autist, and at worst a cesspool of toxic madness. What is to my mind a maelstrom of twisted and bizarre social drama, is “normal” to the players in this neurotic theatre, where too few are capable of speaking directly and honestly as a matter of habit. People say one thing in private, and a completely different thing in public. They promise one set of parameters, but once inside their frame of charity, they change their minds and proceed to do as they please. Don’t get me wrong, I am well aware that autistic people are capable of causing great offence too. But in my experience, they do so in a much more direct and predictable (to me) way, making it easier for me to deal with.

Continue reading

tea for two

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HK Street Bites

Just the two of us. It’s been some time. My baby sister and me. A hot, humid tropical Friday. A mini outing. Nothing fancy. Hopped onto the shuttle bus to the nearby shopping mall. Popped into the pharmacy for my panadol. And then Tea for Two.

I originally wanted local Singaporean fare at Han’s Cafe, but when we got there, it was teeming with the lunch-time crowd. The sound of clattering cutlery, trays and buzzing chattering voices, the human bodies shuffling in and out, and the strong smells of cheap perfume, cooked food and sweaty bodies created sensory havoc.

My sister is ever so resourceful: she knows where to go and when. She led me upstairs to this little nook, where they sell Hong Kong style mini-bites and desserts. Phew! Continue reading

saturday noshments

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Yesterday was Saturday. Instead of the weekly noshments with Rick, I tucked into a different kind of feast. No less grace-filled, just as sumptuous, and not lacking in grace. I am now in home country, sunny Singapore. My sister and her hubby brought us out for a simple Japanese meal at Ichiban Boshi.  Continue reading