Shampoo Shuffle

I'm always singing in the shower, just like every second person in the world I suppose. And it's usually something I've been listening to the previous day or night or something that's just stuck in my head. But I think the 3 songs I sing most often, for no apparent reason, are Sweet Caroline, Bohemian Rhapsody and I Shot the Sheriff. I think tomorrow I'm going to be belting out Got To Be Real. I'm in the dreaded loop!

So what's on your playlist?

When I Open My Nostrils and Close My Eyes

Coffee beans, a hint of lime, freshly bathed babies, the ocean at sunrise, D&G on Dad, Mommie's moth-proof cupboards, my favourite perfume on moi, Nana's freshly baked coconut cake, hot loaves of bread on cold school mornings, burying my nose into favourite old books, wet earth after the first rain, banana flavoured gum, the lingering of his after-shave 15 years later.

Xmas and New Year's eve parties in the 90s, chilly winter nights, long skirts and longer bike rides, a big red telephone and long hours waiting for it to ring, Eagles on the radio and Free Willy in my hands, cosy coffee shops and cheesy lines from Ghost, faded yellow pages filled with black ink, me sitting at my favourite place in the whole world and wondering if he really was the one, walking in the fields on moonlit nights and gazing at his silhouette, saving that blade of grass, writing the last line of a poem, etching my name into the window frame, opening the door for Dad.

Clairvoyance Canned

I can predict the silly things in life so well. An anticipated phone call, a certain look or gaze, a 24-hour waiting period just to hear those 2 magic words. Lots of looking over the shoulder, incessant phone checking and a million trips down memory lane. I tell them all it's going to happen and when. And when it does we all laugh about it. But at the end of it all it's not enough. I don't want to predict the predictable and be at the receiving end of stuff that doesn't really matter. I want to erase everything - the memories, the songs and tunes, the names and people, the 2 whole sentences I can construct in a strange language, the whirlpool I get sucked into with just the mention of one word. I want to leave it all behind. Why was it so easy in the past and why the hell does it blow so much now?

All and Sundry... on a Monday

Washing down chicken spring rolls from the friendly neighbourhood Chinese restaurant with green tea from the friendly neighbourhood mom. I have a huge crush on the guy that takes down my order. And the watermelon ice cream melts only in my dreams.

How have you been, asks the shy guy with my coarse tresses in his hands. I want it all off is all I can bring myself to say. Are you sure? I'd like to keep it the way it is. We settle for somewhere in between. I walk out with the crazy curls now hugging my neck and a bottle of liquid gold in my bag. Time to change the ringtone on my phone from Maroon 5 to James Brown.

The four of us together again. The indelible ink on our fingers marks a first time family affair. The age old dynamics of the group come to the fore once again. It's mostly him alone and the three of us together, sometimes him and her together, on rare ocassions there's me and her but, always always it's me and him together. I know now what my tattoo could have read.

S recieves a distress call from me while I'm trying to field one from my personal banker. Between the hastily planned retreats and alarm calls, non-existent credit statements and post-dated rent cheques, we're all trying to hang in there.

A narrow escape from a freak accident at home with the air conditioner sparking and fuming a foot and a half away from me. I could have been charred to death, discovered a week later with my lungs filled with carbon dioxide and a hole where my heart used to be.

There are other advantages to spending my nights oscillating between The Golden Girls and Will & Grace instead of snoring away in bed while afore mentioned freak accidents take place. My dreams get just that much more interesting. They may have me with a gay lover wrapped around my arms but they make sure my killer wit and comic timing are the envy of many.

On Our Bodies We Share the Same Scar

She lives on disillusion row
We go where the wild blood flows
On our bodies we share the same scar
Love me, wherever you are...

Wire to Wire by Razorlight

This isn't easy to talk about. Never has been. I've had this dream as far back as I can remember. It's about a particular aspect of my being, about someone I need, and something I really want to be. There was a time I was sure it would happen. I don't really understand what happened along the way but I've now reached a point where I know it never will. With absolute certainty. And that's because one has to be around to make things happen and see them to fruition. But that wasn't on the straw I picked. Still, I carry on with a smile on my face and tiny sense of accomplishment in my head.

Something unexpected happened a couple of weeks ago and I realised my dream could have various interpretations and it could be played out over several acts. For this brief fragile moment, I felt like I was living my dream. Even if it wasn't happening somewhere in the crevices of my subconscious mind and was being played out in someone else's living room. So there it was, everything I had ever desired and craved for. Close enough for me to touch, far enough to figure prominently in the life of another. And it didn't really matter because the name that lingered on my lips was still the one I had buried inside me all this time.

Hello Goodbye

I'm reading the newspaper on a warm Sunday morning. The water clogging my feet tells me I'm standing in the same old puddle but, for that song playing out in the distance, it's a brand new day. A brand new year, a brand new life. I've reminisced enough, I decide it's time to delete. I think it's one of the best features of the times we live in. Delete. All it takes is one soft click and another one confirming that it is, indeed, what you want to do. To delete, trash, throw away, discard and remove. And so with a certainty that surprises me more than it scares, I proceed to delete an entire identity. An identity I played out for so many years and one that many people still associate me with. Funnily enough, I feel no pain or sense of loss. All that remains is this smile on my face. And that, like all things else, is sure to fade.