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


Crushed. But not shattered. Fragments will be rebuilt, with molten gold, silver and precious gems. Reconstruction is a process, a painful yet exquisite journey, of constant refinement.

The quest for Selfhood.

Half a century of trundling along in amazing, bizarre, surreal and hyper-real roller-coaster rides. Lifelong toxic ‘mentoring’ by social Svengalis, being groomed for compliant subaltern existence, peppered with pockets of Graceful Guidance. The cosmos propels ever forward, hurtling through multi-textured, supersonic, psychedelic, smorgasbord of existential flotsam, jetsam in a churning, heaving sea yet so full of pulchritudinous mercies. Continue reading


I shall write when I find the words. For now, here is the journey through the lenses of a food-o-logue.

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tofu and theories of minds

I had a very disturbed night. Lucy woke up at 3am to go outside. She did a nice poo, which was a relief to me, because I have been worrying about her bright orange runny poo since Christmas. It’s firming up and becoming a less alarmingly bright colour now. Phew! I was having unpleasant dreams though. Waking up several times in a pool of tears. The good thing was when I finally woke up at dawn, there was sitting in my mind, a clear visual image of the design for the frame for my drawing, which shall be a part of an upcoming group exhibition. I am looking forward to drawing again.

It was a quiet Sunday morning at the studio, just me and Lucy, tidying and musing, and reading about aisthesis, while listening to Chopin on my iPad. I had a weird brunch comprising leftover chips from last night’s fish and chips dinner, leftover salad which my lovely friend prepared, and leftover overcooked beef cubes from the clement barbecue with Rick. Upon returning home, I was hungry again, so I cut and baked the tofu, which was sitting in the fridge for ages. It was still good.

So, what is it that has been bothering me in my subconscious? A very real and conscious issue, it seems. Continue reading