Today's lunch outing to Lucky Chan felt very pre and post pandemic. Conveyor sushi. Fancy outfits. A red lip. Full holiday vibes. Like other conveyor sushi (or hotpots) in other places (vietnam, uk, japan.. all places I have conveyor'd) Today's sushi was most excellent (as was the dimsum, tangy beef and pineapple-y wine cocktail).
The lighting was pink: coming from the (pinterest) pink neon, bouncing off the (pinterest) pink tiles... There were also these massive round lantern shades over the belt - like 4 giant moons blessing us on this Pisces moon (it's a new moon night today), is it now an Aries moon?
Astrology moves quick... but @queercosmos is for life.
Iridium almost sounds like a korean word.
Could be a name like: Iri-dium.
Heavy enough to lift an elephant?
What's in long kdrama episodes that keeps you hooked - other than the cliffhanger endings? Is it feeling feelings driving the plot and being the plot in a way western shows don't even try to be (or do). Even a show like This is Us is feelings but through narrative devices - how can we hide this, flashback that and tada! Reveal! Now cry...
But kdramas are all cards on the table in a way.
Heart fully on sleeve. Reveals but for feels.
Leading with feels.
One micro expression to the next.
Things that sports and games are about
- other than just competition.
Ps. Clearly influenced by Daniel Ricciardo and the wholesomeness that is Racket Boys.
I am actually quite bad at it. I'd say about 80% of the time, I don't even find the bird hiding in the leaves. But I like my Salim Ali book and finding birds other people see in the book. Telling them: It's a Painted Stork! Look!
I want to get into birdcalls more. I think it was dad's friend's husband [at the time] who said he's part of a website that does that - audio recordings of birdcalls. Are birdcalls and songs the same? I'm guessing so.
Yesterday or was it today? What is time? There was a bird that sounded like a little bird alarm - a siren. A warning to the other birds. It's probably [almost certainly] how that bird always sounds though…
Complete change of subject…
Today on Instagram I saw a post about a small shrew/mouse type animal where the male impregnates many females [they're all fertile at the same time, seasonally] for several hours, possibly 2-3 days - then dies. And this post was all about how this species only reproduces once. Or goes on one big orgy. Sexism much. The women all take care of their young until they're independent [about 90 days] and reproduce about 2-3 times in their lifetime. So there! Women's labour undervalued again. Historical erasure - this is how that happens! Lol! It's nice having a rant over an internet meme for jollies rather than big political and life helplessness.
See OG insta post below:
Saw this very male-centric insta post and then found more info on wikipedia because hello the females don't just sex and perish! They mom!
Ha ha how did I let this side project become a big preplanned thing... where I never update. Hello interwebs! It is June! My birthday is coming soon! [that rhymed] Shall I keep rhyming like a loon? Is this a boon? Let me shoot for the moon... will I give up soon? Yeah, no. That had to be abandoned [before I look like a buffoon] :P
I am on a zoom call - a writing call - where the other two people are seriously working [i assume]. I am between writing projects [you could say] having just finished a ghost story, inspired by how woman-hating the movie - Mother! was. Got to get back to watching the good indie horrors [It Follows, The House of the Devil...] or the v. mainstream franchises [Scream, Annabelle Comes Home... how absolutely scary was that?!] ...are the Purge films horror? More political-slasher-dystopian something? I like a masala flick that makes a point.
Still haven't watched all of The Good Lord Bird [only episode 1]... I miss having company for this. Watching things companionably. I could watch and follow up each ep with the corresponding Hawkeguys podcast ep? That could work.
Content to consume [which I probably will take ages to get to]:
Euphoria [2 follow up movies], Master of None Season 3, Eighth Grade, Promising Young Woman... Ah, Carey Mulligan - I do like you. Sally Sparrow forever! Isn't there a Doctor Who episode I'm behind on? New Year's Special?
It is the end of the card.
I bid you goodnight bbs!
I am writing this postcard beside the milk - that is boiling. On the go towards a boil. Not yet boiling. No bubbles. A still gathering of flat, white liquid. Ever since I realised packet milk could contain milk from uncountable cows... that fact has taken root in a back corner of my mind. Milk is like carton orange juice. Factoried. Unknown. Take one orange or one cow and squeeze and you get a tiny glass of liquid safe for human consumption. Where did it come from? That one cow or orange. Where did they come from? Unknown, unknowable... unless you live on a farm. It is raining. It is November. It is the best time to consume Christmas content. I am reading the new Dash and Lily (Mind The Gap)... Dash had a panic attack in Hampstead. Dash shouted his despair into the night air. Using words to plumb his disappointment and the nature of his malaise. Yesterday I shrieked into my house like a Banshee on Teen Wolf. It brought me no vision or revelation but dragged in some tiny measure of ease. The air vibrated with the noise of my distress and pinged at the fibres of my musculature.
Today Chris Baio Told Me
Today Chris Baio of Vampire Weekend fame told me White Noise is a good starter for my DeLillo journey and if I wasn't feeling it, that there's plenty more books in the sea [in so many words - aside: does this mean what I meant? I meant to say 'I paraphrase'] in an instagram chat because I asked a question about DeLillo [one reader to another]...manageable because I stayed well away from any mention of my crazy VW fandom or having in the past watched vids - compilation vids - of his completely great dancing on stage. I am that girl who spots a famous person I adore 5 feet away, tries not to stare [quickly clock, quietly walk away - having breathed the same air] and says nothing for fear of making an ass of myself. But I have asked Ali Gordon for music reccos along the lines of Emerson, Lake & Palmer while making no mention of her fabulosity, insane singing voice or general, funny amazingness [@msalicenutting on twitter]. We're just casual internet bros we are. Ofc I screenshotted the Baio exchange. Wherein my reply in agreement with his sentiment contained the word "surfeit". Oh well, I am bookish.
- is a phrase that i wish was an actual saying, not just a thing I thought up today. Life goal: form and live in a commune. It would be so great to have a choice of seven-eight people to choose between for purposes of any interaction: wake up, make coffee with and for Aparna (alphabetically naming fictional future commune members), eat Bob's eggs (runny yolk coating foraged mushrooms), hear Cat in the distance - singing in the shower, ignore Dharmendra, lean over Ellie's shoulder... or just escape to the terrace for some quiet time. But oh the joy of being within shouting distance from a hug or a chat or a companionable cry. Only friends allowed in my commune, no blood relatives - thank you and goodbye.
I used to send a lot of snail mail pre-pre-lockdown... now even sending out Christmas cards gives me feelings of vague unease. But what I do have is a bunch of collected postcards from when travel was a yearly affair filled with such ease. So I give you: Postcards to No One.