Tuesday, December 14
11:57 am

briefs

during one of those dangerously habitual late-night chats with the boy, he tells me that the first thing he noticed about me was the nose stud, which provides me with a fairly disproportionate amount of mirth. apparently, it disappears when you look at it from certain angles, and reappears only after you've taken a closer look, the pointy coy minx. well damn but it's time those piercings started pulling their weight around here.

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dinner with Fauntleroy and we're swapping no, not dreams, but the deep not-quite fantasies that spill out after a glass or seven - flying off at a moment's notice and kissing till your lips bleed; he pats my head and calls me his morose moppet, which is really alright by me.

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despite my inability to understand anything but mammoth love for all things christmas carolly, Sammo's relentless distaste for them has somehow managed to penetrate the haze of self-involvement that usually wafts like protective armour around my consciousness. in a charming development, Sammo smsed me the exact same thing that the only other person i know who hates carols did all of two years ago. the wave of déjà vu that washed over me as i texted my reply was too great to ignore, and upon rifling through my Really Old Archives, i found this little gem.

My friend (let's call her She Who Hates Carols, And Will Not Hesitate To Tip Buckets Of Excrement On Any Potential Christmas Serenaders) SMSed me the other day from town, managing to inject more emotion into her two words than I've seen expressed in entire essays. "They've begun."
I unsympathetically tried to alleviate her disgust with a perkiness bordering on annoying. "Ooh, let's sing along!"

so nice to know i haven't changed at all in two years.

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and now i'm off to meet the potential backpacking bud, except first i have to haul ass and make it to jalan besar before the storm hits. there is something very calming about spending your absolute last cent in the world on road tax and insurance and having no money left to get gas. it's like the story of the gift of the magi, if you stripped it of any meaning whatsoever and modernized it for the incredibly selfish youth. good stuff.

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