Melbourne has a funny way of expressing herself. Her mood is unpredictable, be it hail in the middle of summer or 30 degrees in winter, I would say, to live with her, you got to prepare for her “swings”.
During the last two weeks, it was an average of 16 degrees as the season approaches the winter months. Daylight savings resumed as days become shorter and nights become longer. All of a sudden, Melbourne decides to go into her freakish mood swings again and its now 27 degrees like the old days of summer. And yes, it is supposedly a week towards winter!
Picking up a university newspaper in caulfield monash, I examined our future geologists explanation to his unnatural weather phenomenon. They say, nature is leashing its fury back at us, and we got our grandparents, parents, and probably – industrial revolution to blame for causing weather calamities by polluting the environment, making it inhospitable and unsustainable for us, our children and grandchildren – so on.
I remembered my previous landlady paranoia that one day Australia will dry up of water (as it is the driest continent on earth) and that they would have to revert back to the olden days of retrieving water from wells. “I will migrate to Canada when that happens” I eavesdropped while she was talking over the phone. “Canada has lots of snow, so there will be no water shortage!” She laughed, as I looked at the pigmentation on her dimples caused by the sunny tropical malaysian climate she used to come from. “Don’t use too much water!” she hissed as I was washing the dishes. I jumped in shock and nodded my head. Reminding myself to take a 4 minute shower with a timer to cool her paranoia.
Back to my current apartment, I folded my winter clothes back into my cupboard and took out my summer dresses (again). In glee, I consoled myself that I looked better in tiny dresses anyway. And reminded myself not to buy anymore dresses when back in Singapore, for it would be too bloody cold to wear them till November.
As usual, I went to the local cafe. Andy (the cafe owner) saw me walking towards him and he greeted me warmly.
“Here for coffee?”
“No, I can’t. I have sleep disturbances. I have to stay off caffeine for a while.”
“We could arrange for a decaffeinated coffee for you. Not to worry.”
“Really? That’s great. Its quite sunny today isn’t it?”
“Its strange, it might be the weather you know, and your body is not attuned to the weather changes and thus mixing your body rhythm up. I do not think it is the caffeine.”
“Interesting. That might be true.”
I pondered over his theory over a cup of large decaffeinated latte, as my mind became messed at the taste of latte without the usual caffeine hit, confusing my “body signals” further. Feeling messed from decaffeinated coffee, lethargic from waking up 1pm, and being burnt by summer rays in autumn, I returned home to write this senseless article.
After a heavy lunch, I crawled lazily into an Italian cafe to order a usual cup of latte. It took me quite a while to start writing, and my pen spilled 10 pages magically. I gave a sigh of relief as I had found an ideal place to do my writings without paying $6 per day to travel on the train.
The cafe owner was rather friendly, and noticing my feverish attempt to scrawl pages on my notebook, he curiously asked,
“Are you writing a book?”
“Yes I am, I have been falling asleep every time I do so at home.”
“What kind of novel are you writing?”
“Dark. Horror fiction.”
I saw his expression change a little as he probably expected a little girl to write about butterflies.
“Read this. It is by my favourite author,” he placed a book on my table. The title was One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
“Thank you!” to be honest, I was surprised that the Melburnians courtesy extended this far, I guess I must have made quite an impression.
“Keep me updated with your progress,” He winked.
I might be in some sort of writer’s heaven or something. Never did it come across my mind that I could be in a place so supportive and encouraging. Upon further inspection into the writing community, almost every university or tafe offers creative writing courses. There is Victorian Writers Center, Australian Poetry Center, numerous writing groups… and a literary culture with the highest density of writers and bookstores in Australia.
There is a program on becoming an in-house “cafe poet”. The poet alliances the cafe and does his poetry writing there in exchange for free coffee. The poet offers his services by writing about the cafe, writing for patrons in the cafe and so on. I was rather tempted to take up such an offer but I realised I have not been actively writing poetry.
Search for Soul a stop-motion video responding to Jessica Raschke’s poem Bustles for prod! Supported by media@rmit and the Australian Poetry Centre
Videographers: Keshanee De Silva, Danica Revote
Model: Me
Photography: Redstonean
I have not been writing actively for around 5 months now. It is quite frightening to blank out, when I have been doing so on a daily basis. I would attribute it to many factors – stress from adapting, travelling, too engaged with other projects. I would like to write more, but my mindset is rather different now. It is quite difficult to put it to words.
I had recently undertook a online writer’s course, but still I am lacking in motivation or inspiration to write. I feel like I am someone else. I might come under a different pen name for the sake of being “someone else”. I will be attempting to write more outside as I have been stuck at home for the past few weeks.
I always wanted to invent a device to increase the amount of time I have to work by extracting it from others who do not need their time (because they are lazy or unmotivated). Sometimes, I think we are not utilizing our maximum productivity because of pure procrastination. After a certain limit of working, we naturally tend to feel tired and lethargic. Imagine if you could take a syringe, poke it into some lazy dude, and extract his time so you can increase your productivity. I am sure he would be happy for that (as he would feel life is too boring for him anyway – does that sound familiar to you?). Sounds weird but it does make alot of sense.
A mixed style of Victorian styled art; captured beautifully within a
low-key lighting atmosphere. All fused together in an seductive, high
brow, renaissance like, romantic setting.
On Gareth Pugh (whom i think, is the most talented fashion designer during our time) – If only one day the world will be dressed in his vision. It would be a futuristic – latex – black – leather – cubism – fetish kind of look with a very edgy feel and appeal about it. I would like to get my hands on some of the jackets, but it would be totally weird to dress this way when everyone is still in the blue jeans era. It would be something like a scene out of the matrix – only cooler without those stupid sunglasses indoors.
I am currently in a very happy and contented state of my life that I wish would go on forever in a place where we belong. I never had experienced this state of tranquilly for such a long time, maybe the only moments I had ever felt this way was being caressed like a baby in my mother’s arms. I feel safe, secure and protected. I felt I had been fighting a war and I could finally rest.
After touring New York and Los Angeles, I discovered more ugliness in capitalism. After coming back to Melbourne, I discovered more beauty in the small and simple things in life that can never be brought or sold. If I had a choice, I would make my world beautiful and live in it like a doll in a doll house. I have been doing just that, decorating my new home with floral patterns and soft white linen. There is a green lush tree outside my window that smiles at me each day. I had found my happiness, and I am very lucky indeed.
I am honestly sick with my old life. I wish never to return to it again. I hated living a lie. It was everything I was not. I never felt accepted or appreciated for who I was. I never felt belonged. I always felt I dropped out from outer space and landed on the wrong place. I was misunderstood for a quarter of my life, and I am going to put an end to it all, for I can plan what I want for myself for the next three quarters of my life ahead.
Here, I feel belonged. I feel safe. I feel appreciated. I feel beautiful. I feel that the world is waiting for me, and I don’t have to chase or fight for anything. I can stay in my shell and know that when I come out I will not be harmed.
I will be revamping this site soon to start afresh on a new note.