CIRCUSITCH

lawyer, jeweler, aiman: Lhandruk, nepal 2009

You know what I love about reading? The very length it takes you. Day 2 of the hike, resting our aching legs and feet and weary bodies on the hard plastic chairs, I saw the book he was holding. To Kill a Mockingbird, with the exact same paperback cover I have. I asked him earlier in the morning when me first bumped into each other if he had read it, and he said he picked it up a few days back. I told him to tell me what he thinks about it, and to ask who my favorite character was. So now, day 2, he asked me if I remembered the quote about lawyers. “Well, I can’t help but take an interest to it since I am one myself.” We discussed about my favorite character.

The next morning, another guy joined us. He was crazy, always smiling, high 24/7. He sounded like one of those bumming surfers you see on tv – “whoaaa dude, check it out mannn!” – the ones that speak with a lilting, nasally voice. He’s in the jewelry business, doing charms, “mostly silver.” I told him about this jewelry idea I saw online, to which he got so interested, and copied down the url.

In the room aiman made funny irritating jokes to us before we dozed off. Earlier we saw a local couple fighting in front of everyone. When we asked why, the lodge owner told us, “They hate, he go for sexy woman! she not sexy!”

The night was cold, freezing. I woke up early in the morning and saw the mountain. The lawyer told me he heard the jeweler went out of his room, “and I could have sworn he said it. He said this – ‘holy fucking shit awesome!’ and I heard he went inside probably to take his camera or something. That’s the thing that came to my mind when I looked at the mountain this morning – holy fucking shit awesome.” He had curly hair, unshaven face, gravelly voice.

I went to snap a picture of the view, and then turned back to snap this picture of them.

I saw her on the train, in a conference hall, at the groceries, buying carrots. Suddenly, after that night, I see her in every woman that happens to have whatever she has, either brown hair, or wide forehead, or that sexy mole on her cheek. No one yet, to my relief and disappointment, has the exact same stare that could shake my knees and make me feel dumb.

The things I told her when we smoked that joint, I don’t remember telling anyone. Even my bitchy girlfriend. It was issues I didn’t think were important, until she started asking. I began to feel weird since my brother was so enamoured by this woman and he has been a hermit before he met her. When she passed me back the joint and I could feel the moisture from her lips on the end, my heart did a slow somersault. I knew why that came about. I’ve felt it before. She looked at me and it was like she knew what I was thinking.

My brothe emailed me at work: it was short and sweet. Dude, he wrote. This is it, man. I’m getting this girl to be my wife. I have not been sleeping well; haunted by the very presence of her and the ironic setting.

Ever since then I started seeing her everywhere.

I was wearing a black t-shirt and he was wearing white. And both our lovers were somewhere else, and it was scorching hot. His cousin came over to help us lug the stuff, amidst the clothes and tshirts and other cool trend stuff. The girls next to our tent wore dresses and bangles. I noticed they checked him out at the corner of their eyes. He was oblivious to their staring, always had, ever since high school. Did he ever notice the stares? I wondered. Sometimes it amazes me to think how far we both have come, from a hello and bye in high school to weekly meet ups breathing paint fumes and talking about sex, marriages, and latest gossips. I always wanted to fall in love like he did with his wife. I wanted their married life. Even when his wife told me in a teary voice about their ‘tiffs’ in the car while our man lit up a doobie; even anytime.

the end of something ugly is the start of something beautiful.

my ex boyfriend left me for someone with money. we both cried in the bathroom when he came over to say goodbye. and picked up his things. like his clarinese and the actifast pills that helped him sleep. he wrapped the ends of my hair around his fingers when we hugged goodbye, teasing me, making me feel sad.

i watched snoopy on the television after he left. I burned his pillows; they still smell of his skin. he called from the car, on the way to her house. i hope you’ll always remember me, said he, like a cheesy advertisement.

the new guy came three days after i put the rent notice up. he had boxes of things, like racecars and martial arts paraphernalia. he had hairy toes. and his hipbones poked out hello to me as I stared at them, feeling nervous because he was so cute and I was just sorry and sad. he asked me if I wanted dinner, because he got some pizzas in the box.

we ate pizza in the small kitchen. the apartment now smelled of the new guy.

I know you like to think your shit don’t stain
but lean a little bit closer see roses really smell like
poo – oo – oo.

Andre B is quite literally the most intellectually refreshing, aesthetically pleasing and visually appealing man in the world ever. I wish I could frame again the photoshoot he did in Vogue with Liya Kebede.

When people ask me what I miss about you, my answer varies:

Your hand holding mine, a softball mitt, a rough paw.
The hollow of your neck where body showers always smell better.
You running your fingers slowly through my hair. The most romantic act ever.
Your faith in me: I am a nice person, said you.

I also remember this one moment in the car, when you told me that sometimes, when we fight, you felt like hitting me. And you hated that; both the wanting and the resisting of the act. There’s nothing that could be done, you said, voice cracking, I am my father’s son.

You know what I have been doing lately? Watching downloaded movies. I don’t download, but my sister does – she’s a POWERHOUSE when it comes to downloading stuff. You guys can say whatever you want but no one’s as psycho as she is. Updates for this new year: we are settled in her cozy little apartment and I’m busy with whatever I am doing to keep me busy and my cat is still fat and I’m still a bitch sometimes.

I love last december. I got a free coffee table book courtesy of the publisher since they feel sorry that they can’t use my pictures. Nearly a year ago, they wrote to me saying that they want to use my picture in a book they’re creating about feelings. I had to complete a permission form and authorization form and all that made me feel all important and professional. But then of course my pictures didn’t make the cut. Damnit. I was THISCLOSE to become a published photographer – without even trying! I would be the only one from Malaysia too *gloat*

I’ve been getting a lot of remarks and comments on my current footwear of choice. They’re really weird looking and heinous and *throw in horrible vocabs to my feet* but they give me the best journey ever. Because my MAIN GOAL in life is to be different yeah liek srsly I kinda love the attention once I got over the initial embarrassment of having to wear them all the time. Strangers make eye contact and smile at my, some point at my feet and laugh, and sometimes some discreetly snap a picture of my shoes and I bet they Tweet about it too! But the best thing is when the *right* kind of people look at me in envy. It’s like, say, if Christian Dior made this totally horrible looking wristwatch and everybody thinks you’re crazy for wearing them, but the *right* clan would know and would totally look at you differently. That’s how it’s like with my shoes. You laugh all right cause you wear Crocs.

I’m opening up the comments so you can say whatever you want and I can delete you whenever I want.

Adios.