Birthday Thoughts of the Christmas Baby

holy crap - same time next week and i will be 38. there i said it. can't deny it or i will be stoned to death by my friends and schoolmates on my facebook page.

the only consolation i have is i now weigh exactly as i did during sophomore year at university when i decided to lose all my leftover high school fat overnight by eating only a piece of toast in the morning and three tablespoons of food for dinner. i also had a carton of mango juice which i sipped on throughout the day if i felt faint. i did that for 8 months. and lost all the weight. kept it off for four years then gained it all back when i started working at the ad agency.

i discovered the joys of tequila, happy hour and vice-presidents who were only too willing to foot the bar bill to enjoy the company of an entire team of ultra mini-skirt clad account executives who would drink them down to the floor.

i started off with just beer then a tequila shot or two. then as the number of beer bottles consumed started to increase, so did the tequila shots. after that, the tequila shots completely replaced the beer. my liver swelled to the size of asia. at one point, i counted downing 12 shots of tequila, and i was still standing straight like i just had one.

we would run to the bar on the ground floor of the building at 5pm which was happy hour (buy one take one on all drinks! yippee!!!) - stagger out drunk at 12 midnight. go back to the office to work overtime til 2am. catch the last call at 3am at the bar and go home at 5am. shower and go to work at 6am. basically feel really sick, hungover and unable to work between 9-11am in the office. take an analgesic or two and start feeling better by 12 noon. have lunch, coffee then start to feel better so work starts to happen. by 3pm we are all feeling good and in great spirits and looking forward to 5pm and doing it all over again.

but i didn't care - frankly none of us did. we were a huge team of account executives who were having the time of our lives. in a sense we all grew up together and years later, many of those friends i made in my early years have become my family.

yes - eventually i got hospitalized for alcohol poisoning if you want to know.

and yes i grew up. moved up in advertising.

one day i woke up and thought - i'm going to work my ass off and won't stop until i become regional director! so i put my head down and worked, and worked, and worked like i was devil possessed. and i did become regional director. lived on planes and shopped like mad. totally fell in love with being on the mailing list of prada. forgot about loving and living - and basically just worked. popped pills to sleep, popped pills to wake up. popped pills to stop crying. popped pills to relax. ended up such an angry, burntout mess who was demanding an answer to the question 'if this is supposed to be the fabulous life, why the hell am i so miserable?!!!!'

quit advertising and just drifted aimlessly for a bit. realized i needed to heal my body and my soul and purge the anger that too long had become my life force. but i didn't know how.

i joined meditation classes. made friends with reiki healers. went to pujas at tibetan temples where i ogled the hot lama priest (one track mind this girl....) took long drives in my gas guzzling chick mobile...created this valentine's day campaign with lize size posters of half naked men in a conservative chinese department store. started writing again and still continue to do so.

my aimless wandering found me in london where finally the aimlessness of my wandering reached rock bottom. i met this doctor who told me to get off the pills and made me lay on a couch once a week in a therapist's office for two years. it was awkward at first and then one day i just started to cry. the minute i did, it became a tidal wave. i couldn't stop crying. and crying and crying. finally it seemed like the dam had finally burst and the more i cried, the anger inside me started to burn out. i started to feel better and lighter. the more i cried, the less angry i felt until one day i was all cried out. the anger was gone and for a time, i was just empty. i reckon if all you've ever been was angry, you forget how to feel all those other feelings.

got laid off when the recession hit. moved into a flat beside the river thames and walked by parliament and big ben on the way to work to sell overpriced makeup at this posh store. got into business school. saw too many museum exhibits and often wondered at the roller coaster that was my life.

what the hell was i thinking? i wasn't.

i was just doing what i wanted to do at the moment, whatever the moment was. while my friends were planning on getting married, having babies and buying houses - i was out buying shoes and bags and books and raising my golden retriever.

remember my friend who said he reminded me of dandelions? they grow where the dandelion seed falls from the wind. when they come out of the ground and flower, you can only admire them from where they stand - you can't pick them because the moment you touch them, the fluff will fly away. he was right in a sense.

my aimless wandering has reached rock bottom. i'm ready to stop being the dandelion.
besides, dandelion fluff gives people hay fever. who wants to give people hay fever?
not me.

i was very sad the past three years. i could not explain the why's and wheretofores. i was just sad. i actually forgot the sound of my own maniacal laughter. and unlike before where everything i touched turned to gold, it seemed like everything i touched turned to quicksand.

i thank my lucky stars i happen to have the luck of the devil. i was born with a caul. superstition has it that children born with a caul (known as 'caul bearer') are born with this lucky streak. no matter how thick the quicksand seems i am always, always able to get out. and i get out the winner. in a sense, i don't really know how to lose. life is more than happy to give me everything i want and need - even the ones that i didn't think i wanted but ended up needing anyway.

right - the quicksand episodes are fading. two months ago, i was alone in the flat watching this inane show on the telly. then i heard this maniacal laugh. it was so strange i thought it was coming from somewhere when i realized it was coming from me.

my body felt lighter than it ever had in years. and i laughed and i laughed. alone but the memory of that afternoon with the first genuine laugh i had in three years still lights me up. there are still many things i need to deal with that we must do because we are adults and we have to mind things like rent and bills and sleeping.

its an incredibly creative time now for me as i re-shape and reclaim my life.

i realize, i may be turning 38 but in reality i am still just 24 with the whole world at my feet and the magic wand is still in my hand. and just for spite, let me tell you that i am re-shaping my life in the best shape i have ever been - fucking skinny as hell and the legs are still as hot as ever.

i am also still ever so feisty and funny and you guessed it - still ever so slightly bat-shit crazy.

i take comfort in the fact that life has always been and always will be on my terms. i don't think a lot of people can make that claim for themselves.

so looking forward to more adventures in my life. i look forward to living, eating, laughing, working, creating and loving and being loved.

happy birthday you christmas baby you!

happy birthday to me.

Bitch Humor

i've always been leery of disneyland and mickey mouse. even when i was a kid. the only ones i ever really liked from disney were the villains. i remember watching sleeping beauty at age 5 totally unimpressed by the princess - if i had the vocabulary then i would have called her a fucking dipstick.

i thought however the witch queen was FANTASTIC. she was glamorous, wore a giant crown, exuded power and had incredible presence. princess sleeping beauty was lame - she should have been kicked in the head while she was sleeping. she would've woken up retarded which would not have made any difference because she was retarded to begin with anyway.

back to mickey mouse and the happiest place on earth. WHO IN HELL IS HAPPY EVERY SINGLE MOMENT ANYWAY?!!! wait, i know - the perpetually stoned that's who. which leads me to believe that mickey mouse is on drugs. i mean, if i were a mouse forced to wear nothing but red underpants for the whole duration of my 120 years on earth, i'd be on drugs too.

and snow white? the disney spin doctors conveniently covered up the fact that she was really an albino. who lived with 7 dwarves.....if they looked anything like gimli did ...yikes! it gives me the creeps thinking about an albino princess who lived deep in the woods with 7 versions of gimli...

and mulan. she's the poster child for the cross dressers and tranny wannabes. 'who is that girl i see, staring straight back at me. when will my reflection show..'

ok for someone who really isn't into disney, i've spent too much time on that topic already. obviously i won't be the first to take my kids there but listen, MY kids wouldn't want to go there either if they turn out to be anything remotely like me which is highly likely.

hey its a sunday and i'm waiting for the sun to show. it better show up soon - or its next on my list. after disney.

Bob's 3am Tomato Sauce

this is the long awaited tomato sauce recipe that bob caught me cooking at 3am on a friday or rather early saturday morning.

i'm an old woman now. i don't hit the clubs anymore. i am revoltingly unable to hold my drink anymore like i used to when i was a kid - as evidenced by the damning photos that jen took when i was crawling on my carpet and rob was sitting over me laughing like a hyena. but jill and her lost ability to hold her drink is another chapter altogether.

back to being an old woman - my sleep patterns have altered. sometimes on a friday or saturday night i am hit with this supernatural inspiration and i just start taking out pots and pans and before i know it, i am slicing, dicing, sauteeing. i find that the deeper i am in thought about the state of my life, the better my food comes out. sometimes in the middle of slicing onions or finely chopping herbs, i find myself awash in a tangle of emotions and the different thoughts that come to mind.

cooking for me, is the opportunity to ponder my life and the day's occurences. i sink, into this oblivion and my movements are automatic. my hands, my nose and my taste buds have a life of their own.

i don't measure anything. i just know exactly how much to put because i've been cooking for so long i've learnt how much is how much by eyeballing everything. it's like riding a bike or driving a car - you learn to move with your bicycle or handle your car the more you ride or drive it. and after you have learned all its little tics and tricks - you can then safely say, this is MY bike or this is MY car because by then only you will have the answers to the little tics that surprise other people when they try to ride your car or your bike.

same with cooking - you have to understand how the tomatoes look, how ripe or underripe, how sweet the variety is or how acidic. if the basil is no good or lush and aromatic. then you have to adjust accordingly to what you have and because you are caring for nature's bounty, there is never any predicting the state you will find tomatoes in.

to be honest, i don't even remember everything that happens consciously when i am in that cooking haze. time disappears and the whole world stands still for me in that moment. nothing is alive except me and the fire. the world could crumble at that moment and i would be left in front of my stove, ladle in hand, pot at the ready.

and this is why it took me so long to try and remember that 3am tomato sauce haze. this is the best i could remember it to be bob - your visit to london is one of the best chapters in my london book, so in your honor, it shall forever be known as Bob's 3am Tomato Sauce. thank you for being such an incredible friend forever.

-----------------------------

you have to cook this using a wooden spoon.



first heat up some regular olive oil in a heavy sauce pan. tip in some anchovies - i prefer those canned in olive oil with garlic. if so, i tip in the whole small, flat tin, olive oil and all. the heat must be soft and you have to wait for the anchovies to melt slowly and disintegrate into the oil.



once the anchovies have disintegrated, add the finely chopped head of garlic. again on slow fire let the garlic slowly color to a soft barely there gold.

then add one finely chopped very large white onion. if the pan needs more olive oil at this stage add more. once the onion smell has evaporated, start seasoning with a sprinkle of salt, pepper and sugar (but only a touch!). the sugar will help the onions caramelize. again do this on a medium heat - slowly let the sugars come out of the onion. once the onion starts to be slightly brown (which means the natural sugars have leached out at the onions are very sweet at this stage), add your cherry tomatoes. maybe a kilo.


toss the tomatoes in the whole garlic/onion/olive oil mixture but DO NOT crush them. just coat them evenly in the oil mixture. this is why it is important you use only a wooden spoon.

if the mixture seems dry, add more olive oil and a tablespoon or so of fish sauce. again mix gently. then cover the pan. RESIST adding any water. lower the heat and go away for a while but be on guard that the pan doesn't dry out. if the pan is drying out before any of the tomatoes burst, add a tablespoon or two of white wine. after a bit, some of the tomatoes will have burst. you then have permission to start crushing the ones that have burst. again season lightly with salt, pepper and sugar - not in equal amounts! and judge against how much salt you put in the onions, and if you put fish sauce.

eventually, all the tomatoes will have poppped from the heat and you will now have a pan full of tomato juice unadulterated by water. keep stirring. if the tomatoes aren't as red as you want them to be, stir in a tablespoon or so of tomato paste.

simmer over very low heat for 30-45 minutes stirring every now and then. check for seasonings (sugar to balance out the tomatoes if they are sour). if it needs more liquid, add some broth on hand. at that time, i had some shrimp broth which i made previously and was sitting in my freezer.

bob - the magic part of that sauce was that i used my home made shrimp broth which is a recipe in its own right =)

at this point, you should be happy with the color, the body and texture of the sauce. chop some flat leaf parsley, basil and tarragon - a good handful of each. then turn off the heat and stir in the herbs.



voila - Bob's 3am Tomato Sauce.

serve over pasta with some genuine parmigiano reggiano, crusty garlic bread and crisp white wine. or pour over fish and bake for 20 minutes. or mix with some double cream to cook some prawns in to be poured over pasta. or blended and sieved then served in a glass with some vodka, worcestershire sauce, lemon juice, celery salt and a celery stalk....3am Tomato Sauce goes a long way.

3am Tomato Sauce is a bit like life - it'll go for as long as your will and your imagination will let you.

Farroukh Bolsara - Now I Understand

i have been obsessing with Freddie Mercury in the past few days owing to the horror of watching x-factor wannabes trying to sing the songs of the man.

the whole show was a sheer, utter, absolute NIGHTMARE. NO ONE, i repeat NO ONE should ever be allowed to sing the songs of that man much less a group of wannabes. it was UTTER SACRILEGE. the only time it was acceptable for someone else to sing freddie's songs was during the tribute concert to him - where rock and roll royalty came onstage and sang his songs. i repeat ROCK AND ROLL ROYALTY ONLY. not some desperate hopefuls who couldn't even hit 3 successive correct notes on pitch (ahem: Lloyd) or some pretentious screaming twat always trying to display his wisdom teeth as he screams out every note (ahem: Danyl). i was shuddering at the horror of him trying to sing 'we are the champions'....NO, NO, NO, NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

X-factor wannabes singing Queen, can you spell T-R-A-V-E-S-T-Y...?

Freddie Mercury....Freddie Mercury.

i first saw him when i was watching footage of the liveaid concert in 1985. i was twelve or thirteen and i was a child who knew nothing. my hazy recollection of liveaid was that people were dying of famine in africa and all these rockstars were gathering together to sing and raise money for the dying ethiopians. the question in my head then was 'hey, did these rockstars hear about filipinos who were also dying from hunger?' but that was quickly eclipsed by my teenage crush on tony hadley who was in the liveaid single. and my crying over the footage shown of the african babies who were literally living skeletons and for once i thought 'filipinos are still lucky'.

liveaid 1985 - the footage i saw in bits and pieces because of the frequent blackouts. the philippines was on the verge of a revolution because in our midst, a tyrant was dying, his wife was hysterically trying to prop up the government while trying to choose which pair of shoes to wear that day, hyenas of all sorts and forms closing in, waiting to snatch the spoils that would be free for all once the tyrant breathed the third of the last of his sighs.

liveaid 1985 - i didn't even knew who bob geldof was! i was this stupid girl who was obsessed with reading books about hitler and the third reich at that time. my family was uber conservative who listened only to the likes of frank sinatra, matt monroe and the platters. the most liberal of them listened to good heavens: motown and the the beatles. i listened to spandau ballet (and never told anyone i liked them because of the connection to the third reich as the nazi officials were imprisoned in spandau prison - fucking GEEK GIRL). and duran duran. and wham. and boy george. and they were all at the liveaid concert except boy george i think?.

i did think though that 'we are the world' was lame compared to 'do they know it's christmas?'. the former was very american glossed over messianic saviour of the democratic world as the united states likes to present themselves. the latter was stark and raw 'where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears...well tonight thank god it's them instead of you...' either way, take your pick as both raised tons of money for good.

back to Freddie. i switched the channel on to mtv (i think?) and there it was. he came onto the stage wearing only a white tank top. and i was like 'what a strange man'. i wanted to see tony hadley and spandau in their suits for pete's sake!!!. no introductions, nothing, no opening remarks. just some waving to the crowd and then he starts playing the piano - the opening lines to 'bohemian rhapsody'. a song i hadn't even heard of but i was glued. the crowd just started to sing along with him. and then they moved onto 'Radio Ga-Ga' - now that was a song i knew. and i was 'wow so that's him mr. radio ga-ga'. and i sat there staring at the telly at this man in the white tank top wondering who he was, singing every note at perfect pitch and marvelling at the whole crowd who was transformed into this singular mass of worshipping, adoring, swaying, singing, clapping horde. tony hadley was suddenly eclipsed from my mind - i thought at that time: THIS IS A ROCK GOD and he is called....QUEEN? i was transfixed at that figure...then blackout...manila 1985

i fell back into the humdrum of my teenage life. the usual - terrorizing the teachers and nuns in my all-girls school because i bored to tears. then going back home to read certifiably strange books - i moved on from my third reich/anne frank obsession to 'sybil' and 'the minds of billy milligan' multiple personality phenomenon. then the horror of a super disease called AIDS arrived on the scene. everyone was writing about it like it heralded the start of the apocalypse, and that it was the scourge of god, and that people would start dropping dead from it like flies.

i was already in my third year at university when one day in the news i heard freddie mercury had died. who? they said he was the first casualty of aids and there was talk about his being bisexual, homosexual and asexual (NOT!)...then i read more about him..and realized 'oh no - this was AMAZING man in the tank top in liveaid!!!'

i realized there was this song which i loved 'love of my life' which i continue to love but learned very late on that Freddie Mercury sang it. when i first heard it, i was so young but i was captured by how sad it was, how heartfelt. somewhere in the back of my mind i was wishing someday i would find someone who would sing that to me if i walked away from him. i read somewhere he wrote it for mary austin - the one and only woman in his life. they met when he wasn't even famous yet, when Queen was starting out as a band and they were still arguing over what to call themselves. they were together for 6 years until he started an affair with one of the male executives at his recording company. they fell apart but freddie was adamant that mary was his one and only love. later on, he said to the world 'my partners always asked why they couldn't replace mary. and no one can. i couldn't ever fall in love with a man, the way i have with mary'.


i listened to 'bohemian rhapsody' and couldn't get it at all - i still couldn't to this day. until wikipedia happened and i read the critical analyses behind it.

even the elvis sounding 'crazy thing called love' was Freddie Mercury! and 'somebody to love' that the penguins sang (by the time the movie came out i knew whose song this was)....all this time, i had been loving songs without ever realizing they were queen's.

read through the history and analysis of their songs and you will certifiably be amazed. the man with a four octave voice who sang in perfect pitch all the time. their songs are considered the most melodiously complex - like riding a singing roller coaster from low to high with Freddie's voice easily rollercoasting along.

in the original recording of 'somebody to love' the 100 voice gospel choir you think you hear is nothing but freddie, jim, roger and brian singing different voices on different tracks. and this was before the time of digital recording. they used good old tapes then.

same thing with bohemian rhapsody. it took them 3 weeks, continuously singing all the parts and voices for 10-12 hours a day. the tapes were spliced and re-spliced that dubbing and layering all the tracks virtually erased the oxide off them and they had to resort to literally taping the tracks together manually to piece it all together. and yes - all those voices in the recording are only 4 people singing and playing all the music and instruments: brian may, john deacon, roger taylor and the genius driving force who conceptualized, wrote and masterminded the whole thing: Freddie Mercury.

nobody ever thought of and no one since ever thought of writing songs like these. you would have to have the originality, the genius, the musical mastery, the voice, a recognition of personal invincibility and the sheer force of will all rolled into one. you would have to be of persian origin, be born in tanzania and baptized farroukh bolsara, grow up in india and eventually migrate to the UK at age 17. and then, one day you would have to change your name to 'Freddie Mercury' and just happen to have buddies from art school called brian may, roger taylor and john deacon - master musicians in their own right.

critics bashed them at first and they coined a term for the music of Queen and their performances: Pomp Rock. they took what was Over the Top and well....made it even MORE over the top. lady gaga and madonna pale in comparison to the spectacle of Queen's concerts and Freddie's stage presence. and certainly, musically, NO one ever has come close to the magnum opus of 'bohemian rhapsody'.

liveaid 1985. journalists wrote about it as the gathering of rock and roll royalty at that time. all the stars agreed to do it because it was for a good cause and because it appealed to their feeling god-like: it was a massive competition amongst all the singers and bands at the same time. the only chance perhaps to once and for all show up everyone in the rock and roll world and prove who was The Best Band in the world.

they all had only 20 minutes to strut their stuff. no playback was allowed - the bands had to play LIVE. bob dylan, elton john, bono, david bowie, sting, george michael..they were all there. and then at 6:44 GMT Queen took to the stage. Freddie Mercury was on fire. when he took to the stage, the 80,000 strong crowd at wembley turned into one adoring, worshipping, singing, swaying horde in the palm of his hand that none of the other kings were able to do.

the day the kings of rock and roll gathered together was the day that The Queen showed them who was god.

bob dylan and elton john quickly conceded that liveaid 1985 was Freddie's night. Queen's twenty minutes onstage during liveaid 1985 has then since been voted 'Best Rock Gig in the World'.

i may have learned to love him too late and i was born too late to ever have had the chance to watch him and his band perform live. thank god for youtube, wikipedia and box set dvds. thank god for bob geldof for that moment in music history.

Thank God for showing the world that god is a Queen..and he is called Freddie Mercury.

PS - mary austin inherited half of his estate when he died in 1991. she also inherited all publishing rights to his songs. she continues to live to this day in Freddie's house in west kensington.

this woman, on the other hand is living in london and praying one day, she will find the Freddie to her mary. (PPS - as much as i love Freddie Mercury and all my queen friends, God please let my Freddie be straight).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtqADo-D3mQ

Flypaper for Freaks

my friend kumuda and i belong to the very rare group of people called flypaper for freaks. we both attract all sorts of weird people and weird experiences that can only be described as freaky and freakish. they say you attract who you are - i guess then we attract freaks because we are.

freakish in very strange ways - some just weird, some wonderful.

when i was on the make-up counter one day there was this woman with a very thick eastern european imperial accent. she had on this large leopard print coat, big blond hair (she could have come from texas), red lipstick, killer stilettos and slightly overweight by one hundred pounds. she walks up to me, i greet her happily 'hello - welcome to the dolce and gabbana make-up temple'. she imperiously declares 'i WANT this lipstick called passion. i WILL buy it now!'. i tell her politely 'i am sorry madam, you must want the lipgloss as we don't have it in a lipstick form'. she shoots me dagger looks, i am afraid at this point she will murder me by sitting on me. she starts screaming 'how dare you tell me no!!! my friend came here to buy it! she just bought it!!! i WANT the lipstick!!! I WANT the lipstick called PASSION!!!!'

at this point i could feel my alter ego called Ursula (if you don't know her she was cast as the evil witch in Little Mermaid) trying to come out to deal with this Texan haired woman with the eastern european imperial accent but i squashed the impulse.

i tell her 'ok madam, i might be wrong of course. shall we check the display to see if we have the shade you want?' so i walk her to the display stand. she suddenly declares angrily 'NO! NO! NO!!! I want Chanel!! Chanel!!!! Not Dolce and Gabbana!!!'

Ursula desperately wants to cackle loudly in this woman's face 'and what was it about Welcome to DOLCE AND GABBANA that you didn't understand???!!!!!' but of course not.

I simply politely look at the sign on the archway above her blond bouffant. She follows my eyes to the giant, golden, gleaming sign above our counter that read DOLCE AND GABBANA. I then look back at her and this time Ursula is in full force, staring at her eye to eye. Texan bouffant with a central european accent walks off in a huff.....

On another day, a woman keeps circling the make-up floor. each time she passes our counter, she starts looking more and more irritated. finally, on the 8th time she passes our counter, i smile at her and stopped her gently 'hi - do you need help to find a department?' she stops and angrily declares 'my god!!!! i've been walking round and round this shop trying to find the new make-up and i JUST CAN'T find it!!! you'd think they'd bother to put up signs!!!'

again, Ursula is desperate to cackle 'perhaps you just can't read?!!!' but again, i squash her away and summon my other alter ego Sedated Buttercup (who is ALWAYS NICE because she is perpetually on medication). Sedated Buttercup asks sweetly, 'which make-up brand is that?'. angry woman declares 'Dolce and Gabbana!!!!'

Sedated Buttercup (who was running low on medication at that time) promptly says 'Well Madame if you turn your head slightly one inch to the left, you will see their sign' the customer has the grace to look embarassed and i turn the situation around with the best, most cheerful, high on ritalin greeting from Sedated Buttercup 'Welcome to the Dolce and Gabbana make-up Temple!!! Shall we try a lipstick today?!!!!'

then i got moved to the fragrance counter. last week a woman came up to me with her boyfriend. she then declares 'i'm looking to buy myself a fragrance but i'm having difficulty. i don't want anything that is floral, fruity, citrusy, ambery, woodsy or musky and i want it to be light, refreshing, soft, strong, elegant, with impact and lasts a very long time.' this time, i cannot stop ursula.

ursula says 'i think you missed out on the 'it must also cure cancer and spread world peace' part of the fragrance'. her boyfriend laughs his head off at my quip. she however gives me the stare of death. he stops laughing as she shoots him a second death stare.

sedated buttercup quickly takes over from ursula. 'well we have the perfect new scent for you! from issey miyake called 'a scent' it's fresh and clean, like stepping out of the shower!'. i quickly hand her the bottle. she takes a sniff and is transformed....'OMG!!! this smells amazing!!!!' i leave the customer quickly in the hands of the guys at issey miyake.

sometimes, i myself wonder at the amazing team work of ursula and sedated buttercup.

there are exceptions though when ursula and sedated buttercup just shut up and wonder at the marvel of life being stranger than fiction.

on another day, a woman, who looked about mid 50s to me comes to the counter. she ignores my stylists (most of whom are gorgeous young girls with amazing hair and make-up) and makes a beeline for me.

she asks me to do her makeover. so i do so. i cannot help but feel this wave of sadness coming from this woman. as i start doing her make-up she starts telling me she is on the way to watch a musical and to a wonderful dinner with her daughter, that she rarely comes to london and that the only reason why she has come is she is sending her daughter off to heathrow tomorrow to university in san francisco. tonight is the last mother-daughter bonding session they will have as she will be away for three years.

we chat some more about her daughter and her son. then while i am doing her eyes,she reveals her daughter is 21 and her son is 23. she has been married for 24 years and when she sends her daughter off, she will be alone again in the house with her husband. she suddenly quiets down and her eyes start to water 'my children don't know i am divorcing my husband. i have waited to do this until my daughter left as i didn't want to break her heart. if i told her before she left, she never will go and i don't want her to sacrifice her dreams because i am leaving their father.'

'my husband won't touch me nor even look at me anymore because i am fat and old. when i touch him in bed, even the slightest, he is repulsed by me. i've put up with it because i didn't want to hurt my children but now that they have their own lives now, i'm going to take my life back. i refuse to be unloved. i refuse to stay with a man who doesn't love me anymore. that is why i am leaving him after all these years'. her tears starts to well in her eyes and i constantly dab the corners of her eyes with q-tips. my own eyes start to well but i hold them back. ursula and sedated buttercup are nowhere to be found. i excuse myself on the pretense i have to get another eyeshadow palette and use the moment to squeeze under the drawers to dab my eyes and quickly blow my nose from the tears i was holding back.

'when i made the decision to leave him two months ago, i kept remembering an old boyfriend i used to have for some strange reason. he was the greatest love of my life - but we broke up and i haven't seen nor spoken to him since for 18 years. but on the day i told my husband, i just thought maybe i would try and find him again. so i called an old friend of mine who knew my ex-boyfriend and guess what? she was living five houses away from him.'

'she gave me his email and phone number. i don't know why but i just picked up the phone and called him. he answered. and before i knew it, we met again. ironically, he and his wife were in the middle of their own divorce.'

'before i knew it, we started doing things together. two weeks from now, we're both going on a motorbike trip of europe. and we're also going to cuba three months from now. we're both doing things we've always wanted to do when we were younger and it's ironic that we've found each other again after all these years. strangely i think if we ended up together when we were young, we never would have made it. i don't know why but i have this strange conviction that we were meant to find each other again but this time, i know we are going to work out.'

i tell her how proud i am of her for being an incredible mother. i tell her how beautiful she is inside and out and that she is worthy of every single bit of happiness in this world. i tell her someday, i wish i will find a love as exciting and fulfilling as she has. i also tell her, nothing in this world is ever a coincidence. 'two people who are destined to meet do so apparently by chance, at exactly the right time' (ralph waldo emerson).

she pays for her makeover and leaves, somewhat a bit embarassed that she has told her life's story to a complete stranger. i run to the loo, sit in the toilet for a bit, crying and blowing my nose and ursula and sedated buttercup quietly sit and cry with me.

flypaper for freaks.....

Stories Which I Wish I Was Clever Enough to Write

below is a story which my friend kumuda emailed me yesterday. i cried when i read it. i didn't know why. maybe because again, it is one of those stories which i wished i was clever enough to have written but obviously i am not. i hope you like it as much as i did.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


once upon a time there was an island where all the feelings lived together.
there was a storm in the sea one day and the island was about to get drowned.

every feeling was scared but not love. love made a boat to escape.
every feeling boarded in.
but there was only one feeling that was left.
love got down to see who it was.

it was ego...

love tried and tried but ego wasn't moving...... .

also the water was rising.
every one asked love to leave him and come into the boat.

but love was made to love.

the rest of the feelings escaped on the boat and the storm took over island.

at last, love died with ego on the island...

love dies because of ego......

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Kitchen Thoughts Part Deux

the whole experience has been overwhelming. as i wrote down previously, if only i had an automated keyboard that would capture my thoughts and blast it all down on twitter.

certainly it has laid to rest any doubts about wanting to be a chef. i am too small, too weak and too old to put up with the blasted heat, hauling heavy things and the daily injuries you get like nicks, scrapes and burns.

i've seen for myself my previous theory about why most of the chefs are men. because frankly, girly girls have no place prissing about in a kitchen - specially not one which aspires to the kind of standard that pearl does.

while i love food and cooking - i want to do it in my kitchen, at my pace, in my somewhat meditative state, at leisure. and i want to serve food to my friends and family who love me so much they always marvel and tell me how good a cook i am, even if i have oversalted or oversugared or overcooked a few things. that is how i equate food with love.

don't get me wrong - the food at pearl is also done with love, albeit a different kind. it is the kind of love that is about artisanal craftmanship. the same way back on the olden days when people planned and took the time to carve, to sculpt, paint.

working in the kitchen, is like working with a bunch of artists. there is nothing glamorous i think about a sculptor facing a block of marble and there is nothing gentle about a hammer and chisel picking away pieces of stone. but you are left in wonder after the sculptor is done with his finished statue. he will stand there covered in dust, his hands will be red and raw, callused and before him will stand david. it is the same will all the chefs in the kitchen.

their hands and arms are seemingly to me permanently red and raw. or swollen from being constantly in touch with water and heat. their arms all bear burns in varying states of healing, healed and new. they have this constant sheen of sweat on their brow. they stand at the pass calling out orders at the same time, while juggling all the different items coming out like veg and fish and meat and micro herbs and sauce. plating each item, carefully laying them on the plate one by one painstakingly - creating edible artwork. and every day they do it.

i swear, if anyone tries to be a smart ass food critic about the food at pearl - i will hurt them. no one is allowed to say bad things about pearl's food in front of me. they don't know what it took richard, leo, ben, mickey, sebastian, dane, andy, ben, sarah, shelley, simon, suren and chef to get that kind of food out. those who critique food who can't cook aren't allowed to be a critic.

i an very grateful to be allowed this kind of experience. it put me back in touch with that side of me which is in love with doing things that mean much to me.

in the midst of that whirling dervish of a kitchen it also allowed me to collect my thoughts and re-think what i wanted out of my life.

a kilo of grapes to peel and de-seed takes some time, delicate handling and much patience. while doing it i would drift away into my thoughts. one time, i thought about someone who i thought i wanted...until someone else came into my life with whom i could not explain this connection to that i felt. it is true you know - you will know what you want when you find it.

slicing two and a half kilos of jerusalem artichokes on the mandolin. i thought, working with my hands helped calm my mind and centered me better than two years worth of therapy did. it occurred to me, this is why people in the olden days never needed shrinks, they could sort out their thoughts while working with their hands. these days, we've stopped working with our hands because machines are now available for everything. so i've resolved, i will take the time out to doing something with my hands - food is my craft of choice and writing. what's yours?

cracking walnuts. andy needed them in perfect quarter slices. i realized, in order to get perfect quarter slices, you need to get the walnut out whole. which is hard to do if you have to crack them open with a hammer. you can't pound the heck out of the shell because that would result in crushed walnuts. so i learned to gently pound the shell to get many, many little fissures which i would then gently peel away and voila - perfect walnuts. i never got perfectly shelled, whole walnuts all the time. i did learn though as i went along that walnuts have this natural four lines that if you cracked the top and ends, the walnut panels would fall away easily. it occurred to me, things in our lives are like walnuts. nature has them perfect wrapped like every single walnut has their four paneled shells. but not every walnut can be cracked perfectly. this is why when you do get one perfectly cracked - it becomes worth every walnut imperfectly cracked.

sebastian also asked me to dice some ox tongue for him. i was caught up in other tasks so when i was ready, i went to him and asked him 'sebastian where's your tongue that you wanted diced?'. i wanted to laugh my head off after i said that but blessedly he's french. and he was overly, overly swamped with too many things to think of he didn't get the joke.

leo - the gentle giant of the kitchen. the one time i had to help him out was to help him make labels. please, he asked, can you write down for me on these labels four rows of the letter P in 5 columns. then G, then JG, then Q and so on and so forth. to make the job quicker, i challenged myself to think of words beginning with the letters i was writing down. P, P, P, P...penguin, pare, pear, paranoid, psychotic...then i started to think perhaps my word choices mean something psychoanalytically? G, G, G, G - gaga, lady gaga, gaga pa rin, gaga ulit...gaga ka...tumigil ka na mukha kang tanga tumatawa mag-isa....F - F, F, F, foker face..F,F,F, foker face....

i haven't cooked a single thing by the way since i started apprenticing at pearl.....