The Parable of the Eternally Fabulous Handbag

'the handbag of glory' is one of my favorite books. it was written by edward monkton, self-declared poet, artist, philosopher and interesting fellow. i suspect he left out 'a woman or wanna-be woman deep inside'. people who see his books on my shelf always tell me they think he wrote the books especially for me.

i've been thinking about bags recently. i told my friend, the truth about louis vuitton handbags is that you can have a hundred of them but none of them have the ability to hug you back.

it sounds like another of those vintage jill lines.

today however, in the emptiness of the selfridges' fragrance hall, i thought more about what i said.

who in the world ever buys louis vuitton handbags expecting them to hug their owner back? only a fool would expect that.

my second thought about that was, when i thought about the fact that my handbags couldn't hug me back, why didn't i think harder about why was it important that they hug me back?

the reality was that, i didn't want the bags, i wanted the hug. i was simply too far gone into my head and my pride to admit to it. and just because it was easier, i kept buying bags, and kept asking them why couldn't they hug me back.

sometimes we are so far into ourselves we are in severe denial of what we actually want. we try and replace those things our souls are longing for with other stuff and then wonder why the void inside us just won't be filled.

it takes immense honesty with yourself to admit to and try to understand the void inside you that you are trying to fill.

if it's just a handbag void, it will easily be filled up by a new handbag.

trying to fill in a void however, with handbags, or shoes, or chocolate, or foie gras,
without knowing what void it is that you are trying to fill, is futile.

and yes, a handbag may never be able to hug you back but you can certainly love it for the thing of beauty that it is. and that in itself, is a beautiful thing.

next chapter: the shoes of salvation

Gordon....

for a time i started to hate gordon ramsay for being overexposed and the swearing had become a tired act for me.

until i watched his new show - gordon's great escape.

where he went to india and literally explored, not just the michelin starred restaurants but the places where the greatest food always come from - the homes of everyday indian people.

he took cooking lessons from mums in kerala where he was shown how to cook fish with spices wrapped in a banana leaf.

went to an ashram and ate what he said was the best vegetarian meal he ever had in his life.

he visited and apprenticed with the most esteemed street vendor in the very slums where slumdog millionare was shot. he played cricket with the kids in the street and walked among the shanties.

he went to the most northeastern area of india, went hunting, cooked for and ate with a head hunting tribe.

he went cow wakeboarding with farmers in a flooded indian paddy.

and amongst all these adventures you could see the immense pleasure the whole experience gave him. often in the series you see his eyes light up at everything he was seeing.

and he had this amazing humility and appreciation for all that was being offered to him.

no one could ever fake that kind of excitement, appreciation and enjoyment.

just when you think you were tired of the man and hated his guts, he turns everything around again. humility traditionally is not associated with the man - until this show.

he really is brilliant - and a show to watch in himself.

ok gordon, i forgive you....will start watching you again...

The Unfazed Delusional

i am writing this because i feel like i am about to explode with my delusions. i clearly know i am deluded yet i am unfazed. in fact, i am amused at how delusional i am. maybe pleasantly, funnily psychotic is a better term?

i am totally obsessing about this man. i've gone to calling him twitter man. i met him only a grand total of 4 times. and i am completely convinced i have fallen madly, utterly, totally in love with him.

in fact - i am so crazy about him, i just want to shut myself in my room, listen to sad songs and cry like they said in glee.

i'm so obsessed with him i've become his twitter stalker.

and i haven't even said hi to him on twitter because, like a stupid, delusional teenager i am afraid he might think i have a huge crush on him.

and yeah i've googled him and read all the bit of limited literature about him. in the desperate attempt to find useless trivia like when is his birthday, i've clicked on useless links all the way to search page 38.

i need to know his birthday so i can check out his western and chinese horoscopes to see how compatible we are.

remember that high school game we used to play called 'flames'? you basically take both your names. cross out the letters that are present in yours and his. then count the remaining letters which you don't have in common. the number you come up with will correspond to one letter in the world 'flames'. f means friends, l means lovers, a means apart, m means marriage, e means engaged and s means singles.

yeah i've done that - using several configurations of my names and nicknames, reversing it using letters not common to both our names.

oh and i have subscribed to a love tarot astrology site which delivers me daily readings about my prospects with him.

two days ago, a tall, nordic, boardskating looking kind of guy was browsing at our counter. he asked me all about gucci perfumes and he bought one. then he left then came back. he had a sheepish smile on his face and shyly asked if he could get my number, for a drink maybe? and i said no i've got a boyfriend. i was i this imaginary haze where in my head i was the girlfriend of twitter man.

when he left and i was for a moment, snatched back into reality, i wanted to scream at myself 'MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!!!! RUN AROUND THE STORE!!! LOOK FOR THE SNOW BOARDER AND GIVE HIM YOUR NUMBER!!!!BEG HIM TO TAKE YOUR NUMBER IF YOU HAVE TO!!!'

and then, the delusional haze took over again. don't worry, twitter man is YOUR man jilly!!!! so i went home and stalked him again on twitter. i am considering creating a fake twitter account and pasting a bombshell photo on it and twittering him.

LOL!!!

i am shaking in fits of laughter as i write this.

ahhh...twitter man, i heart you....won't you please heart me too?.....hehehehe.......

This Year

i will remember that one of the best things about me is how funny i am. even my laugh is funny. i don't even have to crack jokes sometimes, all i need to do is unleash my maniacal laughter. we went to watch a really funny movie once and i was laughing so hard, the people around me didn't know whether they were laughing at the movie or me.

which means, i will go to more funny movies and shows. and confuse the audience and make them laugh double harder because they won't know if they're laughing at the show or me.

i will start getting rid of all those bags, clothes and shoes i haven't used in forever. one by one so i don't go into shock. god help me.

i will spend more time reading those books as fast as i buy them.

this year - marks the return of my inner voice - for fear of ridicule and not wanting to be vulnerable, i silenced it. never again.

i will stay the course - the course of my heart's longings. nothing less.

i will get back to exercising!

i will have a new career. the one i always wanted to have!!! the one i knew deep in my heart i was meant to be but never told anyone because i was too afraid. now i am ready for it.

i will go to paris, milan, tokyo, beijing, morocco, madrid and manila. and taste more, eat less.

i will fall in love. with abandon. with a very good man. a hunky, smart, funny and tall good man. who makes a very good living. who also happens to fall in love with me with abandon.

this year...i will.

Swine Flu Sentiments: Part Deux

the literature on my pack of tamiflu antiviral capsules read: swallow tamiflu with water (i guess to make sure you don't get any other ideas on what to swill it down with - like maybe a glass of rose?). tamiflu can be taken with or without food, although it is recommended to take tamiflu with food to reduce the chance of feeling or being sick (nausea or vomiting).

argh...food...it is the last thing on my mind right now strangely even if reading my new cookbook/travelogue journal venezia gives me a lot of comfort during the periods when my fever slightly abates.

i have been living on pineapple juice, water, grapes and bits n pieces that my flatmate cooks.

as i need to eat when i take my flu tablets, i had to find something even if i wasn't exactly feeling it. i just wanted something i could swallow quick - cooking is the last thing i want to do right now.

i opened our fridge and scanned the contents: a hunk of brie, gorgonzola, 2 tubs of philly cream cheese, orange juice, brown sugar splenda, orange marmalade, plum jam, some eggs, prosciutto, grapes, olives and 2 bottles of champagne. ok...not exactly sick food but it does tell me what the priorities are of the current house tenants.

i made myself some coffee which in my current state has been tasting like water where 2 month old unwashed socks were soaked in. fried an egg which made me nauseaus. ate a piece of toast with it and afterwards swallowed my tamiflu pill ration of the morning.

i haven't felt any sort of hunger in the past four days and still not inclined to be hungry but swallowing something other than the meds does lessen the impulse to barf.

i swear i have never encountered a more stubborn cold virus strain in my entire life.
usually when i get a cold, it clears up in two days, three. six days later, my nose is still clogged and so are my ears. i am still coughing incessantly.

yesterday, it snowed while i was awake. i was thinking how blasted cold it must be outside. i have to admit watching the snow falling while inside a centrally heated house was a pleasure. the snow falling was beautiful and peaceful. i watched it through our balcony doors overlooking the central court garden.

i started to think about all those homeless people i would pass when i would go home from work. they would be lying in doorways, curled up somewhere underneath construction scaffoldings in their sleeping bags that i am sure offered very little protection against the -3 degree weather. most of them reek of alcohol - but listen, if you were homeless in this weather, coffee is the last thing that would keep you warm. the alcohol will. i don't know....

all i could think of yesterday as i was watching the snow fall was how thankful i was that i wasn't homeless. that i was sitting on a large couch, bundled in a blanket, surrounded by pillows in a centrally heated house, with marvin gaye singing in the background 'what's going on?'....

Swine Flu Sentiments

i suppose, i will be making quite a few entries on my blog in the next few days. i am alternating between bouts of feeling ok, usually for a period of an hour or so after i take my medications, drifting off to sleep for an hour as i am feeling extremely worn out by the fever then waking up shivering when the fever comes back full blast. by that time i know i need to take another paracetamol.

i don't know if i am tired because of the move or i am tired because of the fever. or both.

i am listening to jules massenet's meditation from thais to calm me down. and when i am feeling ok i go through the pages of my beautiful new book which i lusted over for 6 months which my wonderful friend arnold gifted me with this christmas.

if i were a book - this is it: I would be Venezia - food and dreams by Tessa Kiros.

this was the cookbook i would have written but she beat me to it. i was insanely jealous she did it first. the pages are filled with beautiful photos of venice taken in the soft light. interspersed with the recipes are her thoughts on the trip she had taken, written down as a journal. i'm not sure if it can even be called a cookbook. more like a travel memoir.

the food is served on beautiful, homely, rustic platters. bread sticks shaped like bracelets lie on masks worn to a carnivale. the cover shows scallops baked in their shell lying on a silver platter, beside a vase of hot pink roses, an antique almost kitschy candlestick holder holding a lit stubby, melted one adorned by a necklace of pink beads.

tessa kiros writes in the foreword: There is not much I can tell you about Venice...you will have to come and see it for yourself...The city is like a beautiful mysterious woman who everyone wants to watch and stand as close to as possible; an ever changing powerful lady who flows with the cycle of nature and commands profound respect for her beauty and uniqueness. Like a mermaid sprung unruffled from the deepest waters, she moves and gives with the tides. She is, I find, most beautiful from a distance...These are the things I ate in Venice....Venice is like when you hear a piece of music that scoops down into your soul or notice a real tear getting ready to drop from the eye of an unlucky child. One of those rare moments when you grasp the magnificence of this world. Yes, Venice is one of those moments. You will have to come yourself and see...

she wrote two more of these life journals/cookbooks. one called "falling cloudberries" and the other 'apples for jam'

what i wouldn't give to have been the one to have written Venezia. the first moment i saw this book, i fell in love and i knew without a shadow of a doubt that if i were a book, i would be Venezia.

never mind....the chance to have done so is far overshadowed by the fact that one day i will wake up to find all of my dreams have come true. in fact....I am Venezia....

Shockin New Year

i am sitting in the living room of our new flat. actually, this is where i have camped out in the middle of the boxes, the luggage, the bags and bits n pieces thrown around the whole house.

i think my body has finally succumbed to the momentous series of events the past week. let me see...same time last week we were hosting a sunday merienda for friends and anticipating the house move. two days later, we lost a few thousand pounds to some feckin thief who smartly routed our estate agent's email to my inbox after altering the original message with his bank account number. when i first heard it, all the blood rushed out of my head and back and back out again and back....i think it was the psychological equivalent of being bludgeoned with a sledge hammer.

after a thirty minute mini-breakdown (which given the circumstances i was allowed), we quickly had to force ourselves back to sanity to call the police, the banks, the police, the estate agent, the police, my flatmate, the police and everyone else involved and everyone else who could get the money back. i was more interested in hunting down the thief and personally bludgeoning him/her to death with a sledge hammer and i don't mean that in a psychological way.

it is an interesting experience going to the police station. and re-counting the series of events over and over to almost every party. i remember the first conversation i had with the metropolitan police line:

ME: Hello? Is this the police? I urgently need to report an email hacking that has resulted in our bank account being defrauded (in a voice trying hard to be calm but obviously shell shocked)
POLICE: Right....so do you need an ambulance, fire or crime police?
ME: Huh? I need to get in touch with the internet crimes department
POLICE: Right so the choices are: ambulance, fire or crime police
ME: Its internet crime - does the crime police deal with that?
POLICE: Ok let me put you through the crime police now.

and cue elevator MUZAK.....

PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME THIS WAS MEANT TO HAPPEN AND THERE IS A REASON FOR THIS. FUCK YOU.

two days after the crime, i went back to work in that freezing shop. the heaters weren't turned on as usual and as our counter is right beside the main door, it was freezer-o-rama every single second that some customer walked in. two days of this and my nose was leaking, my whole body was aching, my head was throbbing and i started to run a fever. it was so bad i started sneezing in front of customers and i had my pockets stuffed with tissue and i was running to the loo every five minutes to blow my nose. this is not helpful when you are in a fragrance hall. it will however speed up your evolution into a penguin.

finally, next day, moving day. i had to drop my friend makiko at the tube on the picadilly line to heathrow in the morning. we cried and hugged each other when i saw her off at the platform. all this drama and her 12 days in london with us seemed a haze!!! and i hadn't seen her in a year.

back to the house in a jiffy. last minute packing, supervising the cleaning lady, coordinating with the moving man, checking that everything was clean and everything was moved out - with a 39 degree fever in -1 degree london weather.

by the time we got to the house, i pulled out my duvet, brushed my teeth, fell on the sofa with a thud, started a full fledged total body shiver eventually drifting off into a feverish sleep filled with the nightmarish dreams that you get when your temperature is soaring off the charts. tossed and turned on the couch the whole night alternately drenched in sweat then every muscle shivering next.

i don't even know what time i fell on the couch. when i woke up, it was 11am. my head was throbbing and it felt like twice its usual size (and i have a big head). every muscle was screaming. my throat had swollen to three times its size. my nose was so clogged and so were my ears. somewhere i heard grover speaking to my flatmate and i realized it was just me talking.

orange juice tastes like a rusty metal sheet. coffee with tons of sugar tastes like water. rice is an agony to chew.

BUT I AM IN OUR NEW FLAT FINALLY AND I DON'T GIVE A DAMN. i've gone through worse and i know i will survive this virus, the thief, the london winter, the unpacking. i'm too tough, too funny, too smart, too stubborn and overall just damned too fabulous to succumb to all this shit. besides, there is still mr twitter man waiting to be ensnared.

the medication is slowly working - i have to take it every four hours. i am writing this in a very pleasant cough syrup and flu medication induced state of relaxation. i love cough syrup. loved it as a kid and love it still as an adult. if only i had reason to take it everyday. cough syrup, flu meds - all are wonderful inventions. bloody wonderful...inventions...yeah baby.....

HAPPY NEW YEAR.