- beef cubes or lamb? (what to buy at supermarket the next day)
- why is Desert River overcharging by 5000% percent on fatboy beans?
- where has my Shadow of the Wind disappeared to?
- what’s that sound? there’s a worm in my pillow, there’s a worm in my pillow, oh my god, there’s a worm in pillow.
- oh wait, it’s Ravi’s hand on my pillow.
- ha ha ha ha ha.
these are just the usual stuff going through my head on any given night i’m actually falling asleep. someone who falls asleep to these thoughts can’t be the next Prime Minister of Singapore.
i love fresh air, love, love, love. if it’s quiet enough, i’ll sleep with windows open. growing up, i’ve always been too receptive of sounds around me, even if i’m not actively observing or registering everything – and this is a nightmare for any insomniac. there is a petrol station adjacent to our building, and we live on the 3rd floor. unfortunately, there’s a 24hrs cafeteria at this petrol station where mostly thirsty/hungry cabbies stop. see, usually, the kind side of me would say “awww, poor things, they work all through the night.” but then these m*thafuckin idiots love honking, okay? they hooooonk at every small little cockroach that crosses the road when they are at this petrol station/cafe – every 7 mins 38 secs, somebody honks. on bad days, the average drops to every 5 mins 18 secs. the one other sound i hate other than drilling a wall, is honking fucking unnecessarily. i believe 70% of drivers on the roads here are Indians/Pakistanis and at every intersection, there will be drivers honking the nanosecond the light turns green – make your own deduction there.
so, i want/need, i gotta gotta have it, fresh air i.e. we open the window in the living room all day and i close the one in the bedroom so i can sleep to my own thoughts instead of honks. even from the bedroom, i can hear the honks and this is not because i am a light sleeper. when you honk often enough, someone’s gonna eventually notice. these guys honk regardless of the time of night. three nights ago, some guy shouted “ooooooooi! ooooooi! beep beep beep beep beep beep!” at 0200 in a fruitless effort to quiet the honking driver in shut up windows down. obviously that didn’t work. i plotted to buy a water gun or a paintball gun to shoot at every fucking car that honks like a baby holding it’s first squeezable squeaky toy.
and then tonight, i toss and turn in bed, i fall asleep and dream of strange things like me going out on a soul baring, self-discovering mission in the jungle with little else but a bow and arrows, just me against the elements/natives. once again, not Prime Minister of Singapore but perhaps potential sexually confused Tarzan. then i wake up at 0432 and hear this man talking and laughing so loudly, i thought it was the new neighbour downstairs having a party in his balcony (this neighbour also has to learn to switch off his fucking spotlights after 2300). and 15 minutes later, when i am wide awake and wondering if i should buy beef or lamb, i walk up to the window and realise this man is 150m away, in front of the cafe, 4 storeys away (counting ground floor) and his bellowing voice travelled all those metres, through the air, through my living room window, through the living room, through my bedroom door, through the bedroom, into my ear canal. i hope he doesn’t get an erection for the next month. nobody talks that loudly at 0432am.
my brother calls me a paranoid freak almost everyday and growing up, at least two kids called me weirdo, but really, i was just deep for a 12 year old, okaaaay (and looking at where you are now, look who has the last laugh, HAH). i cannot imagine the kind of names the woman who invented the ICE-Qube had to deal with growing up. it’s the fine dining equivalent of an emergency kit which includes peanut butter and condoms. yes, i bet we’d be wishing for Creamy Peanut Butter when we’re running away from a mysterious 20 storey high underwater squid that’s turned against humans and the fishing industry.
i’m allergic to plasticine but i remember sniffing Playdoh all day long, there was just something about the smell that was comforting. my mother was very concerned that i became a Finger Sniffer after she finally weaned me off pacifiers at 7 (yes, 7, go ahead, laugh, i bet you scratch your butt and smell it or eat your booger when nobody’s watching). i still sniff my fingers after washing my hands or touching perfumed items, very cathartic, cheaper than buying heroin and less painful than sniffing powder up the nose. so imagine my delight when i first found Demeter Fragrance Library and its Eau de Playdoh, Chocolate Covered Cherries and Laundromat scents. go ahead, you know you want to.