taken by the trumpeter. sunset. on the way home.

+++

i looked through your sweet notes. i reread your sweet words. your squarish structured handwriting. your reassuring nature. you were always the encourager. the final step of acceptance is too hard to do. i am not there yet.

there's a wall there, somewhere near my heart

+++

how the sleep time torments. how when in the hollow of darkness these images and the sounds of the past come tumbling over and over again and i can't quite connect the sounds of then and now. how is it that i feel a frustrating numbness and also a throbbing anguish but everything now is so cliched because how can i articulate such things that i do not want to say out loud. i do not want to go there tonight; when the saddest moment of truth comes, truly all the sad songs seem mundane and insignificant, unworthy to describe. describing, articulating cheapens. argh i hate words.

to think, to articulate
is a blank
for now, sinking. guilt like a needle's scream
- we were going to arrange some
tete-a-tete

i do not know why it feels
heavy and
giddy headed

i do not want you to be a past tense.

my summer of love: chapter eighteen




University of Queensland.

my summer of love: chapter seventeen



we disobeyed the sign and fed the birds. the army of geese, turkeys, crows, ducks and other miscellaneous fowl chased me all over the green.

my summer of love: chapter sixteen




you and me. nsw and queensland boundary by the beach. comfy billabong and dusty birks.

my summer of love: chapter fifteen




supermarket shopping: a constant excitment - this was when we were cooking in brisbane and in the spices section and we did our portoguese chicken.

my summer of love: chapter fourteen




the lazy journey back from dreamworld; midway to recover from spells of giddiness we lounged in here and chewed bubble gum and had fancy conversation. i love.

my summer of love: chapter thirteen




cylinder. the first chic boutique along brunswick street in brisbane behind chinatown where i got bag number three with the retro handles. the interior is white and clean with the old motif decorated ceiling left as it was, and manga art lining the wall in clean squares contained. everything was pretty in it. a white box with spots of cool colour in it.

my summer of love: chapter twelve




goldcoast trip with the family where we splashed like children and ate fish and chips; i loved all the elevations of varying balconies.

my summer of love: chapter eleven




farmer's market in brisbane at the old powerhouse station whose shell was preserved and a very cool interior performance space created. the mandarins, we bought some.

my summer of love: chapter ten.4




the cows they pose for me. taken with mingyao's super nikon. up close these pasture queens they ignored us and grazed the day away.

my summer of love: chapter ten.3




elf trees! with sheep in the background gazing and the endless rich blue water on the other side, these i christen elf trees.

my summer of love: chapter ten.2




the great ocean road and the blinding sun. oakleys maximised to full use

my summer of love: chapter ten.1




that's the fallen apostle, a crumbling mess in the water. t'was more funny than historical.

my summer of love: chapter nine




+++

being to timelessness as it's to time,
love did no more begin than love will end;
where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim
love is the air the ocean and the land

(do lovers suffer? all divinities
proudly descending put on deathful flesh:
are lovers glad? only their smallest joy's
a universe emerging from a wish)

love is the voice under all silences,
the hope which has no opposite in fear;
the strenth so strong mere force is feebleness:
the truth more first than sun more last than star

- do lovers love? why then to heaven with hell.
Whatever sages say and fools, all's well

13. e.e. cummings

+++

my summer of love: chapter eight.2




and with caged sandy flossed dingo, not too fantastic winery and awesome awesome sea pictures

my summer of love: chapter eight.1




philip island nine-person tour; with tacky but approachable coach driver, typical and greedy roos and a sleeping koala caught on the trumpeter's zoom lens

my summer of love: chapter seven




for sure, the sydney opera house we caught at dusk. and ooh the lovely toilets a mesmerising experience then.

my summer of love: chapter six




journey down the mountain, happily back to streets, malls and people in the merry-go-round of pretty sydney

my summer of love: chapter five




it's a touristy clock but the waterfall next to the church is actually a black and white painting on the shophouse wall. katoomba - mist covered the three sisters rock structure and two old guys hogged the tv room watching bad tv (passionada, oh urgh haha) but we had a night time adventure to a pizza place and spent some time in some antique shops [the old curiousity shop was the name, i never got down to reading that charles dickens book that lies on my sister's shelf]

am now at the trumpeter's temporary abode cos we are going to have lunch together. lush 99.5fm croons some bossa nova while we sit and have a little conversation. and now, life in mono. life is all about the drama. music leads and completes the drama and i like that. my beloved handed me a page long letter when i arrived and the contents made my heart go boomtity boomtity boom like in the brit comedy.

telepopmusik woohoo, and i like my new $2.00 sketch book from the glorious takashimaya art friend with pages that are just the right amount of yellow, and i gave in and bought another (thinner) signature pen too. i should stop buying materials and just start using them.

hello trumpeter!

i am [too] like a ship without a sail without you.

my summer of love: chapter four




train ride up to katoomba

my summer of love: chapter three




doing the kitchen thing :: we had fun cooking - broiled cod with ginger and spring onions, normal vege stirfy with mushrooms and chicken in oyster sauce and leftover ee fu mian from naamlong the all time fav chinese place

my summer of love: chapter two




26th june band of colours and a memory, beer and fries with cute funky friend by a side lane cafe in queen victoria cafe

UK VOGUE is amazing! awesome, unbeatable and wayyyy cool.

my summer of love :: chapter one

i hate temperamental people; that is i hate myself when i get temperamental; that is, i hate the feeling i sink in, the aftermath of the three second tempests due to my occassional inability to keep my mouth shut when the sarcasm and raised tones that are unnecessary, the realisation that all can be solved with calm and on hindsight when it was all a silly little matter that i blew up because of my poor capability to deal with being compressed on several sides; so ugly. i want to be beautiful.
+++

besides that few seconds of emotional hiccup, all was bright with the trumpeter by my side the whole day. legendary lavander wanton mee with slurpy greasy heavenly gravy and an afternoon of the best company ever - sauntering about town and we watched 'the island; which was gripping in all it's explosive glory and all the concrete and glass sleekness and the sleekness of the machines - walk in botanic gardens and sushi dinner.

my summer of love: a random chapter

on the 24th of june, i celebrated my birthday at this restaurant and alas we took no photos. we had spicy salt & pepper squid with chilli soy served prettily on a square japanese plate. the menu's descriptions read like attractive short stories; it was so hard to decide what to order. i settled on a skate with oysters. kipfler potato, boiled egg, green gazpacho dressing & toasted rye bread. what fantastic presention on a long rectangular plate with all the items in a row. the oyesters sat on a layer of what i think is spinach sauce and a sprinkle of alfalfa sprouts on top, all compressed in a shotglass. the trumpeter had chargrilled wagyu rump with potato galette, horseradish butter, witlof & poached quince. it came in the same long plate presentation as well. how very very beautiful the dining experience except that i think the chef (accidently methinks) dosed the skate in a gallon of salt. and you said a birthday prayer for me which melted my heart like butter, though you don't remember, it was the most beautiful thing i have ever heard.

+ + +

hence, even doing housekeeping, i'm on a high intoxicated with the thought of you. we cleaned the floor, the tables and everything in the hostel room. it's true a couple must have connections on several levels. this is one of them for sure; we grow into each other's housekeeping habits and we agree with each other's level of cleanliness, fussiness and style of keeping things. the mundane things we do are as gloriously happy as the concerts and rah rah dolling-ups. and we sat happily eating cheesecake from hokkaido in neat wrapping and finished the day with shelf-shopping and comforting hot dogs from the blue building. we got a date tomorrow too!

a colourific montage prelude for subsequent pictorial chapters recording my very wonderfilled summer of love
the beauteous great ocean road and the azure sky * olive coloured train seats * drama at the steps of the sydney opera house * all very lovely and all very achey breaky

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. the movie of the year. achey breaky, curiously honest and it killed me so.

::

[Mary reads to Dr. Mierzwiak out of "Bartlett's Familiar Quotations"; the lines are from Alexander Pope's poem "Eloisa to Abelard"]
Mary: How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot! / The world forgetting, by the world forgot / Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! / Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

::

Clementine: I apply my personality in a paste.

::

exercise cold turkey for a month results in woeful consequences, a little wistful, a whole lot excited at my date later at the track. withdrawal symptoms would include looking enviously at joggers in brisbane in their endorphin high; picturing how you'd pick up the pace when U2's vertigo comes on the radio and other speeding-friendly radio ditties; doleful looks at your own bits of jiggling blubber; smelling chlorine and thinking about warm laps in a near empty pool and shiny shoulders as a pleasant aftermath. so hence now that i am back on warmer soil i have to be disciplined and rephrase this chapter with lots of happy perspiration and be careful not to let The Bed and The Kitchen stand in the way of the path of everlasting fleshly reduction.

having the trumpter by my side every hour for twenty eight days. this is another cold turkey then. heya i love you.

how lovely being on the plane with you; time is like a big blank slate when so much can happen in a blur but the fish get caught in the net - those frequent tender moments prick my memory and stay there in glorious everlastingness. it's oh so quiet and in your head it's a thunderous fanfare. i have seen some stories over time and i cherish very much o king o my heart, that there is no place for judgement for you are such a gentleman and i so love to be your lady. twenty eight days gone by and everyday seeing and holding the trumpeter's hands was the most beautiful memory of this summer where we went a gallavanting to secret places and smiled at stangers and strange things together and added new soul-joining words and secret signs to our dictionary and where we can be happy in any weather, in any wild country or dappy city, and in cacophonous banter or in the mystery of silence.

we lugged our pods and tim tams and treasures found back to our tropical abodes. quote to end this roadtrip of sorts: the trumpeter o my heart:"i love you more. maybe it's the necklace (a recently invented inside code). maybe it's just you" there now. the magnifique trumpeter has spoken. to add new music to our collective collection is mel tomei and astrud gilberto (verve record in filmsy wrapper that is so vintage like, i love).

don't do the catogarising thing. i can't help it. there wasn't a this or that. it was nice swimming in a potpourri. that's what i need to soak through and not think about the Word as a trap. happy things.

yesterday the trumpeter and i went on the 24th day of consecutive dates. we tackled the rides at dreamworld and got dizzy together. lots of conversation can be done at the long queues. the finale was the roller coaster ride where we were right in the front and i screamed myself silly. take out pizza dinner with chet baker crooning and dessert at the three monkeys cafe with liquer coffee and two thick rich cake slices - choc obscenity and walnut - and another round of conversation about media issues and other romantic miscellaneous banter. so today hence, date day number twenty five.

chancing upon cool grungy individualistic boutiques upon an unexpected turn can lead to high levels of adrenalin rush and a higher level connection with inanimate objects that hang seductively in a biba-esque fashion at mellow-lit shop windows. how very frou frou and very cute such moments of consumer bliss. ha

sydney opera house. definately the toilet got me enraptured. just look at the basin! what basin? heh. wonderful stuff.

six doughnuts for each of us in sydney.


now, about my beloved trumpeter. he's a very good boyfriend even on holiday while i was ill he :: made me take my medicine :: got cough syrup from the post office at the airport_so very resourceful is my choy :: he made sure i was bundled up enough from the toe to the ears :: he bore my week-long speechless bouts that comes with feeling under the weather with unspoken tolerance :: he suffered when i suffered _ that is he ate no trashy holiday stuff that you're suppose to have on a holiday because i couldn't eat them in my piteous state [ok lah, minus that one choc bar and that one ice cream cone i saw you happily eating from hungry jacks while you were waiting for me who was at the restroom so cute you ]

today we wandered down brunswick street and we got me another bag with cool handles. really neat shop with patterned ceiling and white plastered high brick walls, an old building and the shop was called 'cylinder'. the trumpeter charmed the friendly store owner with his vocal recognition of dizzy gillespie's 'a night in tunisia' and we had a sweet conversation about the store's decor, the cute bags and wynton m. bag number three. my fashion weakness obviously, tends towards the bag kind. i love my choy my choy loves me we are as happy as can be. happily, happily, we shared a macs strawberry milkshake in the rain and had sly bee together again. happily, happily, we found our current favourite korean snack in a korean supermarket in chinatown and bought all seven packets off the rack.

month long trips abroad will always make you yearn some for home. i don't feel that broken out of the shell as i expected to. it's sweet to be in brisbane, some comfort in familiarity and gleefulness that comes with successful conquests in the malls.

melbourne_ i was an ill bloke, so i sneezed, weezed, i got burnt up and my throat burned heavily over several degrees over a week but we managed well and had fun walking about town, to philip island to go ooh over cute clumsy penguins and to the great ocean road where the creamy cliffs are miracles and the shades of the ocean stirred my heart. dinner at nam long and yum cha at dragonboat restaurant. late night movie with alexis bledel in white stone houses by the greek ocean. new maroon mooks bag. huge chunk of codfish at chinatown wet market for two dollars with chicken and vege stirfry and two ice cream cones mint tim tam cornettos for us each. bad australian tv shows and sly bee. ha.