only realised how tired i was when all i wanted to do was stare at the notes on the whiteboard in the studio as soon as i sat down. when all i could hear was a silence hanging above his explanation of minor and major keys. he was smiling throughout. how can anyone be so patient? i feel worse and look away, trying to listen to the chord changes. top of the world. hum it in your head. don’t think of karen carpenter. think of the song.
he gestured toward his guitar. I had never played his guitar before. perhaps some magic in the strings of the maestro’s instrument would rub off. Of course, none did. what did you think it was, aladin’s lamp? it’s like rubbing your non-existent brain buttons. hocus pocus wishy washy nonsense crap.
fly me to the moon. a looped french art house clip runs in my mind, the only thing there really. repeated scenes, some childlike with a light running staccato, some reminiscent of a long drawn-out yawn from a lone stringed instrument. like how my ex-hamster used to yawn. ahh! a good stretch of the jaw.
squashed in the lift. yet another mother talking to her kid. don’t touch the lift button, boy. is it the 10th floor mum? number 10? why is this button like that? i stare out of the window. the McCafe umbrellas were a long way down. stop touching it boy, if you keep touching it the lights will go out. ok boy, an oldish father says. wait for me here. he waves his hand randomly while inside the lift. does he mean wait inside the lift? how odd.
the door opens. a blind busker sings love me. i smile. so pure. and courageous. one day i shall accompany her and dance. but not today. the smell of fresh roasted gao lat lingers. i feel cold when i smell it, despite the lurking humidity. the perfect food for a proverbial winter. chestnuts on an open fire.
coffe. the coffeeshop kind would be great. to last through the night. you’re such a wuse. it’s only work. it’s not like you’re the only one suffering. you don’t need coffee. i sit at the shuttle bus stand. thank god i don’t have to walk home.
the weekend beckons. i can smell it. please let mao’s last dancer and earth still be showing. should have watched it last week.