i’m sitting in a starbucks waiting for nothing. many 30 minutes have passed. surely by now, after the umpteenth block of half-pasts, i must have repaid my debt from that night two years ago. i have coffee now, but i dont have the indulgence of that deliciously impatient window of time before that someone i really want to see, comes to me. did we kiss when i entered the car? this wooden starbucks chair i’m sitting on, that is pressed to my shorts right now, doesnt know that it’s being pressed to the same pair of shorts from that night. what a shame.. such precious information that will forever be lost on the ignorance of this chair.
the shorts two years ago. this was at Iviane’s birthday, when Martian waited for me 30 minutes before i finally got into the car.
same shorts now. this was after breakfast at Killiney Road, last weekend in Singapore.
—————-
26 August 2005, 4.47 AM
blue cars that i dont know the names of
polo ralph lauren shirts
that smell like stale cigarette smoke and fresh laundry
expensive restaurants
kerastase anti-dandruff shampoo
white bathrobes
slow kisses
art that have no meaning but really do yet dont
chinese horror flicks
and winona ryder
high shutter speed
hotel pillows and dark blue duvets
laconic poetry
and the idiot’s guide to interpreting dreams
irritation
lack of space
waffles and coffee
funky red nikes
cement
the thought of the touch of your fingertips
metrosexual hair
the haze and leopard print masks
my favourite chocolates
piano solos
and timeless classics
suicide stories
fresh air
confusion
manipulation
simplicity
strings
checkers and minesweeper
late nights and early mornings
hartamas
sleepy comfort
spritzer mineral water
cookies and cream ice cream
“you’re yummy”
“i never expected you to”
“this is so weird”
dirty feet
neatly pressed shirts and maroon ties
leather briefcase and official papers
plain white plates
your smile
and your really strange laugh
hugh grant
mess
gray
bali
30 minute waits
these are just a few things that remind me of you. you’re one of a kind. it’s been fun.
i want my scrunchie back.
——–
the above is a post i wrote for Martian before he left for Hong Kong, retrieved from my old blog’s archives. back then we barely knew each other. but we had all these moments, all these Mont Kiara moments, that when looking back now, seemed to be the seeds of something greater. there was one time i sulked, and then asked to go home, and then halfway through the drive, i decided i wanted to stay. i’m still like that now. he was very confused. he’s still like that now.
then there were all those times he brought me back Godiva, and that one time he got me a nice big box of Leonidas - no white chocolate, and tied with pink ribbon, just perfect. he gave me flat coke the first time i went to his apartment, and to this day i still like flat coke. all those random candles from his shelves later took up residence in the bathroom of his Hong Kong apartment, which i’m so used to and totally miss. then there’s that big yellow suitcase that has not lost its form. the very first time he met my best friend. removing contact lenses with one hand. shirt smelling. me calling him mean and him calling me bratty, adjectives we still employ in our more tulan moments.
then of course, there is that time in the taxi when i said, ‘actually, my boyfriends go through a lot of trouble dealing with me’; and he thought to himself, ‘thank God i’m not her boyfriend’.
hehehehehe.
we have each other now :) my mont kiara guy and i.
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