And it finally rained, even if I hadn’t noticed it, being stuck voluntarily at the office while the writer’s block stood inexorably like a wall that asks riddles. Headed home in a daze of sugar rush (M&Ms; a recurring addiction), and under the darkened skies of impending but unthreatening clouds, it felt like a picture fortune telling. An old man would say, look ahead but not too far. Endure, and vivify. In the end you’ll find your pineapple tart. It’ll be sweet and it melts in your mouth.


I was just that high.

Got through the first two days of Chinese New Year with, thankfully, as little incidents as possible. We just cleaned as hard as we could, visited as much as our proximity allowed and cooked to the extent of our own health. In the end, it wasn’t as bad as it was. Or might’ve been. In fact, it was somewhat enjoyable.

And yesterday I counted off the ang pows and stashed it away at the bank. It will go to the PS3, coming by March, if all goes well.

****

“So I have this Idea. Not just any idea, but an Idea – the real deal here, ladies and gentlemen – and now I’m wondering if I can just pull it off.”

“You won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s the problem with Ideas. Because so much emphasis is placed on that Idea, successfully topping it at the pinnacle of ideas that stack in your head, the chances are that you’ll be too afraid for it to fail to actually pull it off.”

“So-“

“You won’t pull it off. You won’t do anything. You’ll just keep telling yourself that you have this great Idea, the motherlode you hit that’ll raise you from utter failure to a runaway success, and you’ll smile and sneer and cry and carry on with your life knowing that you have it but not daring to do anything about it.”

“Ah...”

“You're welcome.”

“Fuck you, man.”