Showing posts from September, 2006

He was as young as newly formed mud, and he talked to himself as if reciting poetry

Written by Kiwi.
Published here with permission.

There's a kind of girl that's just about anything and everything and absolutely nothing all at once. A puzzle girl, a sort of Rubix Cube incarnate. Everyone knows at least one. She's the type of girl where you could gather together all her friends and they could each probably tell you her favorite color, her favorite movie, her favorite moment from the summer before last. They could tell you all about her strings of boyfriends and various neurotic habits. They could probably capture a general descriptive image of her personality for you within 200 words and they'd definitely have a story or two to tell as well. But ask everyone to sit down and piece together her life's story from birth canal to last night's sushi boat dinner for you and they wouldn't even be able to agree on the most basic of chronological maps. They might not even be able to agree on the correct spelling of her real name. Does she even *have* a real name?

A Life Less Ordinary

Anyone who knows me to some degree of detail will tell you that I don’t do things by half but this past week, I’ve been spread so thinly I haven’t been able to give anything 100%. This grates on my nerves not only because it is against my nature to do things slowly, badly or incompletely but also because this month, being Ramadan, should be the one which brings the most focus and calm; elements that simply have not transpired over the past week. 

Kia & Killing

I have been told on more than one occasion that I have a split personality. After the day I’ve had, it’s half this personality that wanted to go home, curl up in PJs and listen to some Mariah Carey. It’s the other half that refused to take such a defeatist attitude. So instead I put on the angriest music I have and ran til I bled. It’s because of that half that I’m sitting on my bed with muscles that have lain dormant for years incapacitated beyond movement. But I’m ok. Sort of. I think.


I’m often castigated for my zero-tolerance attitude towards smoking. People start quoting Niemöller at me (“First they came for the ‘smokers’ and I said nothing…”) and bandying about words such as tyrant and totalitarian but as many of you are aware, once I form an opinion, it takes about five solar eclipses to make me change it. Call it narrow-mindedness, I call it strength of belief.

Faster, London, faster

Firstly, a quick apology. I know there is no excuse for abandoning the blog for three weeks so I won’t make any. I have kicked off the torture contraptions that are my sexy shoes and have nestled into the worryingly comforting chair on a Southwest Trains train. I’m on way back to London Waterloo from Chessington North, which for a born-and-bred Londoner is kind of like being in the middle of Deliverance; I kept expecting incestuous banjo players to come and grin at me wildly.