The world is awful » Awful Yarns

*10

awful_dollhead — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 16:23:23 +0000

She was about to press on the ‘Send’ button when she paused. What the hell was she doing? What was she expecting from sending this message? With pressure on another key on the mobile phone, she erased the message that she had typed and re-typed for the last few minutes.

She could not do this to herself. Playing the waiting game again. She was the only player in the game. In the quiet hours of the wee morning, she wondered what she was doing. She felt so exposed and was extremely sheepish about letting him into her world. Her mind idly wandered off wondering what he was doing at that moment but with a shake of her head, she willed the thought out of her mind.

Here she was, alone in the favourite time of the day. Early in the bloody morning. She would have to get up in about three hours. Assuming she slept. She wished that he had put up the disclaimer that he was only there for a visit, as a guest and that he would not be staying for long. She wanted to know how long that she had been waiting in vain. She forgot how to spend this time in solitude. She tried to conjure up the tears that she wanted for to flow down her cheeks in tiny rivets of rivers. But she was all dried up. Do you promise to be my friend? Do you promise to never leave and never let everything I tell you wash by like the rain falling down the duck’s back?

She was afraid. She had let him in and he had left. She wanted desperately to take back everything she had shown him, during those hours of the night. Because now it was as if she did not say anything. She was pretending. Her usual hyper little quirk. She could not move away from the fire that she should move away from. She did not know how much more she could take. The mind games of her head. She wondered again when her nights will be alright again. When they would belong to her only again?

If only he would call. If only he never did.

*9

awful_dollhead — Thu, 14 May 2009 10:13:37 +0000

It happened again. She falls so easily. It is quite incredible. She thought she would be immune to this. She thought they were playing a game at first and then suddenly she could not keep up with the rules of the game.

‘What makes you think he will come to you?’

‘He will not. I am always the one who is going to him.’

She must not care, she must not care, she must not care. But she does care but she does care but she does care. She wonders whether he is here and how he is. She wishes she could stop this inane wondering. To stop it once and for all. She told him to go away and he did. But she is wishing he did not.

It’s over and it’s ok. The light headed affair is over. Stop floating up in the air with your heads in the clouds. Please stop thinking. It is over. Please come back to the ground.

It is hilarious. She feels like a fool. She is a fool.

8*

awful_dollhead — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 15:27:39 +0000

“How are you?”

He was Adam. Standing behind them in the line to claim their cars. The world was dangerously tiny. Then again, where else would you expect to find the moment’s hot rising vocalist, if not at the ever popular dance club? The females loitering near the entrance had their cameras in action, snapping pictures of the singer. Damn that Kai, she silently cursed. If it was not for his participation in the social scene so actively.

She struggled to find her voice. But Kai beat her to it. ‘Oh hey, how are you doing?’ He reached out a hand to the other young man. They shook hands firmly.

‘You know each other?’ Adam seemed to notice the familiarity between their two bodies. She did nothing to hide the fact that she was in the company of Kai. If only she could summon the courage to speak up.

‘Yeah, Deedee and I go way back.’ Kai volunteered the information. She had no idea that the two males were acquainted. But nothing escaped Kai’s eyes even in the wee hours of the morning. ‘Oh, Adam and I met at some launch party of something. I forgot. And we were at that ridiculous eligible bachelor affair.’ He explained with an embarrassed shrug.

Adam laughed, his deep set eyes twinkled for a moment, then went dull again as he looked at Deedee.

6*

awful_dollhead — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 16:09:08 +0000

A blast from the past, a long time ago, that seemed so far away when I still believed in love. The kind sung about in songs and displayed in movies and books.

I wonder whether that fortnight that you existed in my life was just a dream, a figment of my imagination. With you, I took risks, I did without thinking, I lost myself and I thought I fell in love.
It was an ordinary night and I was very excited. I had not seen Ling in a long time or much less go to dance in a club. The setting was right. It was Wednesday night and my favorite music. My two good friends had appeared again after a void in my life. I looked forward to it. An excuse to go out and not stay in my room, heavy with emptiness. I marked the night down on my calendar.
I had not been for that club for so long, have not heard that music for so long. We waited for the people to file in, then we danced. Ling and Sophie and I. For once, we were dancing together again. My loneliness fell off me like a coat too large. Perhaps an aura of lunacy enveloped me that night, to lead me to a period pure madness. There was a certain buzz in the air. Boys tried to buy us drinks, others tried to dance with us. We talked to a few, we snubbed the rest. Dance, dance, darling, dance. From one place to another. Shimmering next to each other. I drank a little but I always needed nothing much to get high. Just the beat of the familiar songs that I could hear in my sleep. High on euphoria. The rhythm coursed through my bloodstream that night and exploded into the air in bursts as we moved along with the beat.
From Zouk to Phuture to Velvet. We flitted like those butterflies in a garden of newly bloomed flowers. I was happiest in my element. Badly mixed retro music. I lived in those times and was born in the wrong era. A boy asked to dance with us and Ling said no thank you. But we got tired too easily, a combination of departure from puberty and the club scene. We were going to leave. Up the stairs, we trotted. Then came the tap on my shoulder.
Perhaps it was the familiarity of it all, boys come to clubs to drink and pick up girls. I turned to see the tall boy in interesting glasses. “My friend would like to get to know you,” I think he said. He gestured to the boy next to him. I took a quick look. My head spun and never stopped. Maybe it was the cheeky smile. Maybe it was just something that I could not place my finger on. I glanced back to the taller boy. “What’s your name?”
I shook hands. He introduced his friend. I shook his hand. I turned to go, the full blown of madness having not settled in. My companions changed route, the wheels of fate were turning. I followed them into Members. Leaving the new acquaintances behind, or so I thought.
The bespectacled boy asked me whether we wanted drinks. Yes, we did. The girls laughed and twittered. They bummed cigarettes of another boy. I made conversation with the boys.
We went to Phuture. It was crowded, packed wall to wall, with hot, sweaty bodies replacing the standard sardines. He offered his hand. Hesitantly for my sanity had not abandoned me yet, I took it. Just for seven seconds. With the blood flowing to my cheeks, I let go although something screamed no inside of me. We were in the middle of the pack, the lights moved and spun like an amusement park ride gone wrong, the air felt heavy. Drawn to him or maybe it was the blinking lights, I felt the walls of air closing in on me and I escaped. We ran to Velvet, three of us and the boys did not follow.
I closed my eyes and breathed, thinking that they were gotten rid off. Finally, we agreed to head back home. Outside, we linked hands, my girlfriends and I. Someone called the name I use as a pseudonym in clubs. I did not offer my number but took his. Supper was suggested. Opinions were seeked. The decision was made when the choice of transport appeared.
The open top convertible had little space. I was placed on his lap. I ignored the fact that my seat was not leather but a warm body. I further ignored the physical attraction that my body called out.
On the way back, the top was down. My hair messed up in the wind, I tried to make conversation. He was shy and the exchanges flowed somewhat stiltedly. I tried not to read into anything. The situation screamed of danger. But danger to who and to what?
That night back in that empty room that was mine, full insanity settled into me and my head never stopped spinning.

5*

awful_dollhead — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 14:48:08 +0000

They stood outside the still crowded club, waiting for the valet to drive the car over.

‘Did you have fun?’

‘As much as you had at the wedding dinner,’

‘I do apologise.’ He was sarcastic.

‘It’s okay.’ She made a face.

‘But a deal’s a deal.’ He reminded her.

‘I feel like I’ve made a deal with the devil.’

‘I’m the devil in disguise.’ He misquoted an Elvis song. She reached over to give him a hug. His knowledge of the music from the Rock and Roll Era endeared him to her so. It was one of the many similarities they shared. She giggled, something that she only did when she had drank too much, as Kai continued to change the words of the song.

‘Hello Deedee.’

She turned around. To come face to face with a too familiar person. Situations like this never presented themselves as they did hypothetically. Gaping like a goldfish out of its bowl, she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks.

4*

awful_dollhead — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 14:42:11 +0000

They had just attended her friend’s wedding. The first one to bite the bullet. It has certainly been an eventful day, starting off at dawn with the typical groom picking up the bride at her house. Though Lauren had been living with Xuhan for the last year, in a bid to be traditional, she had spent her last night as a single back home with her family. In the morning, the groom came a-knocking on the door with his cronies, determined to pick his bride without too much hassle. After undertaking all sorts of humiliating test that were brewed by the devious girlfriends of Lauren, he finally got to claim his bride. The Chinese customary rituals followed after that, the grand finale of the wedding dinner held at one of the top grade hotels in the city.

As the rules went, Kai accompanied her to the dinner, sitting alongside with the various couples around the dinner table. In return, after the lavish dinner ended, she entered the doors of the most popular club on the arm of Kai. The charade was proving a little tedious for her to carry out as the night wore on.

‘Why did you come over?’ She shouted in his ear, above the music.

‘I saw you dancing alone.’ He put an arm around her waist. ‘And you know what happened the last time you were dancing alone in a place like this.’

She laughed, admitting the truth in Kai’s words. Habitually putting her arms on his shoulders, she put her face close to his nose. Close enough for all who saw to misunderstand. They moved together to the music. Kai occasionally ‘singing’ along to the song.

It was almost three as she watched Kai down another B52 with his buddies. Unconsciously, she yawned widely. Kai who was surprisingly sober despite all the drinks he throughout the night noticed. He turned to speak to his friend. Nodding, his friend knocked fists with Kai.

He came over, taking her hand. ‘We are going back,’ Relief showed on her face as she hugged each person in the party. Her feet had been crying out for help five hours ago. She could not wait to shake off those dastardly shoes. You have to suffer for beauty. Reminding herself how true were those words as another shot of pain traveled through her calves.

She’s so Strange

awful_dollhead — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 09:21:16 +0000

Look what I found when I was springcleaning my desktop on my work computer.

Allow me. I insist.

And with a flourish of his arm, he opened the car door. He dipped a little when I entered the car. He closed the door and I could hear Travis’ ‘She’s so strange’ from the car stereo. Smiling as he released the handbrake, he asked whether I was ready to go. I nodded mutely.

“And she wore a black moustache
And she pilfered all the petty cash”

“She went to Birmingham” He sang along.

I remember a girl-woman draped across her chair, proclaiming, “I am so bored. I do not want to work.” I remember being at the Travis and Coldplay concert, jumping, jumping with a girl.

“And she knew just what to do
And while the cats were all sniffing glue”

I examined his side profile as he drove. It was almost perfect, save for that slight kink in his almost straight nose. In other words, his profile was almost perfect. Just like he was. He was pretty amazing stuff. And he was not mine. That did not stop him from opening doors for me, pulling out my chair and putting out his arm for me to cling on when I was just a little tipsy. He was generous and humourous and a terrific dancer.

I once asked him what he wanted from me that he could not get from other girls. His answer was that I had a penchant for play acting and too much imagination. And your sparkling eyes, he added as an afterthought. I had laughed at his poor attempt to flatter me. This Prince Charming had some flaws after all.

“So now she starts to cry
Without a reason why
She’s so poor”

3*

awful_dollhead — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 16:04:08 +0000

Placing the glass on the table, she moved off to the dancing crowd. The dance floor was packed as always. The sweaty bodies parted slightly to let her to squeeze through. The beat of the music vibrated through the air. She began shimmying her hips, the hem of her short sequined dress moved up and down her bare thighs. The dress was the one she called her hooker dress. Thousands of little sequined discs sewed onto the sheer material. Occasionally the spotlight would shine on her and bounce off the sequins in reflected rays. As she moved, sequins fell from her. But she still had enough left over, to hold the dress together. Funny how a zillion sequins could weigh so much, weighing the dress down. She moved her arms above her head, occasionally punching the air above. The music was not to her liking however she had enough alcohol in her body not to discriminate against the DJ’s picks. He must have caught sight of her dancing alone in the mass of people because after four songs, he appeared at her elbow with another vodka orange. Without asking whether the drink was meant for her, she took it and drained the contents of the cold glass. Dancing made her thirsty.

2*

awful_dollhead — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 02:37:10 +0000

She looked at him. Across the table, in the midst of the crowded club. He winked at her as he spoke to the person beside him. Everyone noticed. What a game they were playing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two girls twittering to each other, with their gazes on him.

She laughed to herself. Poor girls. It was a Friday night and the popular club was filled to the brim. Bodies were packed close like sardines in the tin. The music, what was it? R&B was blasting from the speakers and into her sensitive ears. It has been far too long since she has entered such an establishment. Tilting her head back, she emptied the glass of random alcohol that she had been nursing.

*

awful_dollhead — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 15:00:16 +0000

You will always remember your first love. That was the tagline of the teen romance series of books that I used to devour. ‘Love Stories’, I think that was what the books were called. Stacked next to the Sweet Valley Highs, Sweet Valley Twins, the Babysitters’ Club, do you remember all those paperbacks sitting on the shelves of the used, new and second hand bookshop? All the silly plots about puppy love, all wells that ends well? Polluting the minds with saccharine young courtship. The boy on the wrong side of the tracks, pursuing the model student with a secret passion? What a load of truly bullshit crap. But it was fun while it lasted. These fairy tales that rolled off the conveyor belt fed young malleable girls a web of lies and kept them protected and sheltered in a imaginary world of hypothetical romance.

Well, I certainly have grown up. In fact, what or who warrants as ‘my first love’? The first boy I kissed? Or the first punk who I had a crush on? Or perhaps that first one that shattered my heart in smithereens?