The general malaise persists at the workplace. It’s been this way for some days now, and the gloom is not helped by the incessant rain. It started like the clouds overhead this morning, before rumour bloomed into a fullblown deluge of ill-feeling and general out-of-sort-ness.
Which didn’t help my awful headache today. And that easy complication was solved by a dose of ponstan which, I have been told, is now illegal in Malaysia. Really? My banged-up knee troubled me while I contemplated, for the nth time, upgrading my computer. All of that while sipping coffee and apparently waiting for the day cloned cat kitties start taking charge of the situation and begin Human Eradication Plan 001.
The rest of the day was spent reacting like the deterministic ants we have been trained since inception to be. Stimuli –> response –> reaction –> all hell breaks loose, in rapid spurts followed by the usual denouement that follows after a session of frantic sex, or rabid fire-fighting. On the news just now, a group of 50 or so protestors in a West Bank settlement barricade themselves against police/army incursion; oh, boy, do I know how they feel.
As much as I love the idea of our kampungs and warongs overrun by cute felines, I wouldn’t want to be in the same position as those protestors. Like I said before, kinda pitiful how these Jews keep finding themselves shunted from one place to another. It’s like the Book of Exodus remains a perpetuity they cannot escape, forever leaving and returning, only to leave again, like a cosmic eternal recurrence of the s(h)ame of being cast out.
I shared a cigarette with her today, and I felt like I was back in the Garden of Eden with a stranger. Walls of beige and ugly off-white under fluorescent tubes, we talked about nothing which, from a certain point of view, is highly appropriate — but it was a virtuous kind of ‘nothing’. Nothing sinful demanded our expulsion (though, kids, smoking is bad, BAD for you..) but when we left that small space, it was to silence, barely exchanged glances and such not. Tiresome. I still feel the shock of seeing her with her other.
Back in the wasteland of the real, the air-conditioning sucked so much it froze the sweat on my palms, literally; I was struck dumb, writing the dumbest report of my career filled with innuendoes, hearsay and slick bombast to confuse the unwary. It was a sham, just like everything else. Somehow knowing that made things seem better, if you’d believe that.
In other news, sometimes your heroes really suck. Maradona’s admitted to the Hand of God goal, and worse, remains unrepentant. I wonder if it’s anything to do with his flagging popularity (entirely my opinion, of course) or his shrinking bank account (entirely speculation).
He’s milking it for all it’s worth, in any case.
