It’s much harder writing these days, I’m moving around so much and hardly ever stopping.

Such is the price of moving again.

I have plenty on my mind right now, so this is bound to get get convoluted and perhaps just a little incoherent. You guys love it, I know.

News first: I am flying back to Munich on the 26th; I’ll arrive at the airport in the morning. This just means I’ll end up sleeping the whole day and be really grumpy. I hate night flights but due to the onslaught of Oktoberfest traffic, I really have no choice.

I hate tourists.

It’ll be really cool to be back there, something like my second home. I mean, I’ve spent a year there, the longest period of time away from my home country, something many of you could understand, I’m sure.

And looking back now, from a distance, in both miles and months, even the bad spots were good. Not enjoyable good, but you-learn-about-life good. I am more mature now, though as prone to psychic disasters as ever.

I see bored people.

So what, I don’t feel as funny or as miserable as I used to, but trust me, I’ll swing back to my usual morbid humour to delight my flaccid audience sometime sooner than right now.

(Note to self: I’m not making any sense.)

Such is the bane of feeling honestly and incredibly happy and content. Your writing goes to shite. And I am too much in the thrall of a disgustingly natural high that I neglect to even moan about the lack of, well, moaning.

Have no fear, though, I am still relentlessly boring, ranting or no ranting.

Speaking of being relentlessly boring, what better time than now to serenade you with the tale of my leaving Munich, when I am a mere fortnight from returning?

(It’s the senseless things that makes the most sense. Don’t worry, I promise it will be painless.)

I had rounded up a precious few for a small quiet dinner at good ol’ Tribühne: Maria, Maran and Hadi. Of course, things never turn out the way you plan them.

Silvi, a sweet Indonesian girl I knew turned up and I started chatting to her in Malay. Then the Thais, Tae and Natta and that Turkish guy who seemed to enjoy a game of greet-and-run normally but stayed for dinner this time.

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Everyone kept asking me when my flight was and Maria kept answering for me. She told them she was my Memory, some sort of psychic personal assistant with added benefits. I think she’s hinting at something big come Secretary’s Day.

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(We took the above pics with Tae’s Nokia phone and infrared-beamed it to my iPAQ. Ah… gadgets; the Modern Male’s Best Friend.)

Then Alex, my Hongkie friend came over and I blackmailed Maria into trying some rather abyssmal Cantonese on him. The same thing is prolly gonna happen to me if I’m away from Germany for too long, but then again, my German was never spectacular to start with.

More Chinese folks turned up (see, I do have yellow-skinned pals, in spite of all my slanty-eyed jokes) and I joined at Simon’s apartment while the rest headed to Café Dada for some party.

I really had fun with my Chinese friends cuz they were all so different: Hongkong, Shanghai, Guangzhou. I spoke rapidfire English, Cantonese and Mandarin alternatingly and boggled at least one of them each time. Sounds evil but I get my entertainment whenever I can.

After my secretary called me up to remind me I was five minutes late to the party, I left Simon in a bind over a recent Taiwanese politico-pop combo. Don’t even ask. The party was rather slow to start with, but once Maria introduced me to her friend Evita, things really started rolling.

What better send-off than dirtydancing with two beautiful German ladies? Of course, I made sure not to inform Maria’s boyfriend Genilson when he turned up later that I was crammed in between a samba queen and his girlfriend barely minutes earlier.

That’s basically it. Something like an unexpected farewell. I’m sure my secretary will be more than happy to give you any extra information you require.

I think I’ve written too much again. Hope you are all well and bored.

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Copyright © 2002 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.