Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Turbulent Weekend
Rough weekend, both physically and emotionally. Saturday evening: Had *completely* forgotten about a large book I had agreed to review and was now overdue. Out with the coffee and finger food and into my famous gruelling all-nighter: Skim ~ Scribble ~ Google ~ More scribble ~ More skim ~ Re-Google ~ Re-scribble ~ Skim, skim, Google, Google ~ Crib, cadge, cheat ~ Type, read, edit, re-type ~ Print, read, edit, re-type ... Aargh! By the time I'd gone through this all-too familiar charade, the little hand was on 5 and I yearned for nothing more than a luxuriant bath and all-enveloping bed. My mother was suggesting she wire me $1,000.00, I pack what I need and fly over on July 26 to meet my brother in Pisa from where we drive over for the 7/28 festivities after which I stay on for a new and healthy life among the olive groves. When I awoke, I knew I done wrong. Not just because 5 working days is crazy to shut up shop, but I don't actually *want* to shut up this particular shop right now. Red Alert: quit my faffing ways and get employed, even if it's some menial downtown post with dustpan and broom. Naturally, all hope of sleep was gone and nor could I call back because I had no idea which line my mum had been using. First priority was to quit the beaten track and commune with Nature on my favorite secret walk. It was hard to think of upping and leaving all this. As I rounded the bend and caught my first glimpse, it looked like some hybrid horror - huge grasshopping back legs, hen's body, mule's head - perched there on the rock, ready to spring. Even in bright daylight, there's something menacing .... And so back on the dappled path and to the metropolis for a spot of luncheon at my favorite people-spotting ~ eavesdropping nook - the one and only, bijou Vege Noodle. Delicious lunch:Succulent noodles * Juicy kebab * Crunchy egg roll * Chilled chrysanthemum tea. I am Exhibit A - still immobile after forking out $600 for the garage's dud guess work, and nervous about driving even short distances lest I pour more loot into Gateway's coffers. As if being pincered between two such depressing landmarks weren't enough, my ears were suddenly assailed by that deep and indeterminate bass thump so favored by the virile young as their mating call d'auto - in this case, a beefy gum-chewing lad heading south in a fashionably skirted hotrod. Having halted at the cross-roads to wait his turn, he noticed me wincing and with my hands over my ears. "Wazza madda?" he called above the beat. "The matter is," I yelled back, "I've got visual pollution behind me - commercial pollution over there from the garage ... and now *you* with that audio pollution from the woofers ...." Whether he heard me or not, it came his turn to go so I escaped with no more than an *aural* thumping. When I got back to Safeway Square, the sun was shining so brightly, and everyone looking so cheery and fit, that even I spotted a certain grandeur about that crane looming over accursèd Island Cloggings: Speaking of blue skies, my Hong Kong stint in the 1990s included handling the PR for French engineers Dragages/Bouygues, during which my Franglais and consumption of vino and good fromage improved no end. Of course, I was part of the enemy in those days, demolishing my colonial heritage in the name of the twin gods Progress & Profit. Idling one day by the excavations for the Route 3 Tai Lam Tunnel, I was astonished to hear some old hag intoning what sounded to be an alarmingly effective and all-embracing curse on our burrowing activities. I bawled her out before any of the superstitious locals heard her mutters but was secretly relieved to have booked our usual fung shui wizard for the following week to ward off such evil spells as she might have got off before I sent her packing. The irony is that it's now *me* who's crooking a malevolent finger and croaking sotto voce incantations as I roll the dark runes and cast an evil eye towards Cloggings and that even more depressing harbor thingy venture.
Not just groggy with lack of sleep, but instinctively not questioning the maternal suggestion, I agreed and collapsed back into bed.
There's something about escaping the sound of cars and the chatter of the city and just sitting quietly 'neath a canopy of green and enjoying the companionship of the emerging wildlife.
This nosherie has everything I want in an al fresco snack house:
Lunch over, I trudged up to Wyatt to share Bainbridge Beat's woe over our cruel loss of Hoskinson House
Loathsome on the eye tho' it may be, a terrible beauty is borne with its crisp scarlet lines against the deep blue sky.
