I smelled like jungle and horse and river and espresso.

Last Sunday, some hour past one in the morning. I had spent the whole of Saturday traipsing around in a 4WD with adventurous friends of Shwugirl and lived to tell the tale. Knowing me, dear readers, the tale is long, so instead of blogging it here, you can go and read it when I’m finished writing it – Salt of the Earth, it is.

It’s a good one, especially when you considered I only had three hour’s of slumber the day before. Sleep deprivation makes horsebackriding rather exciting.

And sometime Saturday evening, when we were driving through some desolate oil palm estates, I got calls from Justin and Serene announcing a reunion at PJ Hilton the next day at one. In the p.m., but still.

So, come Sunday, despite looking like a giant panda being dragged from his cave (and his snooze), I went. Drove the miles to meet these guys in an overly posh place where I spent way too much for a buffet I barely tasted, what with me small appetite.

Justin and Serene brought their mates, and I sat across the table from a guy who kept yammering on and on about Melbourne (and it’s not so much fun when that guy yammering on and on about Melbourne ain’t me). Nowhere near sweet.

But I did get to chat a tad with Serene, and we still make merciless fun of each other, and I realise it’s always gonna be this way cuz it has always been this way, and happily, I realise it’s really okay. Her boyfriend’s a bit quiet and under the radar, nothing like me, but I suppose that’s the point, ain’t it?

He looks good on her. And it’s a bit sad cuz it feels less than it should. Real life’s running short on the drama these days. And Serene asks me about whether I figured out what Xmas gift I was gonna get Shwugirl and I say yes, but won’t tell her what.

Actually, I haven’t found it yet (exclusivity makes great gift-giving) but Shwugirl tells me I’ve given her the best Xmas gift already, and I know she means it. And that makes me one happy Kenny.

Manuel wrote and tells me my poems and blogs don’t sound the way they used too. I guess he means they aren’t as bitter. Wintertime is cold, and we best get warm while we can. No snowflakes’ the same, and as one melts on your palm, there are more floating down from the sky if only you’d look up.

And I’ve been looking up.

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Copyright © 2002 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.