I like these slow days. Nothing much happening. All the stores, all the restaurants, they’re closed. There’s no where to go but the parks or to stay at home. No shopping sprees that resemble wartime strategems with the ungracious hordes that land every weekend. No overpriced meals served in microscopic portions on the wide, near-empty canvas of cold, porcelain plates. No snotty waiters with feeble, foreign accents breathing the day’s specials down our necks. No fashion parade of the latest threads that cost a month’s salary and barely fits. No giant blasts of indoor air-conditioning and no guys in polo shirts disfigured by frozen tits.
We walk. This dirt path, the cyclists who ride by waving at us with their hands and their open grins. The dirt and the gravel give way to grass and we take off our sandals, ring them through our fingers, walk. The trees, their branches stretch out over our heads, the sun dapple on our faces as it slips past the canopy, the leaves. Smells so fresh. Today, today. We are alive today. Your fingers slip into mine, our sandals swing and touch, every knock a kiss. We walk.
It rains. Starts slowly with a pitter, then a patter, then the sky breaks open, empties itself on us. We are too soaked to run so we walk. We skip, we hop, we dance around each other, we laugh, our voices like thunder. We get home, undress, jump into the shower. Hot water. Bliss. The steam heals us. We are alive. Your turn to cook, you say. I nod, you’re right. You smile at me. Let’s order in instead. Okay, I say. Good idea.
You call the delivery number. I fetch the menu from the door of the fridge, stuck into place by colourful magnets from cities we’ve visited together. (We never bought souvenirs before we met; there wasn’t any point, I guess, in bringing home magnets before there were memories.)
You put down the phone, the pizza’s ordered. How many minutes do we have, I ask. Twenty minutes, you say. More than half an hour and we get the next pizza free. Twenty minutes. Enough to pull you close. Enough for a kiss, then another, and another…
Twenty minutes. A little more would be nice. We’ll tip the delivery boy more if he’s late, you say. I nod, yes, totally. We unwind and intertwine. Tonight, tonight. We are alive. We are alight, we’re fire, we’re stars.
Thing is, I didn’t expect to get to my age and be… content. It feels strange, this second skin, and yet. It feels right. This life, this life. I’m alive and I’m all right.
.
.
Copyright © 2011 Kenny Mah Ying Fye. Photograph by Nossirom.
Kenny Mah believes in the good in people. He has been blogging for over ten years. No, his hands aren't tired. Yet.
You cannot explain. Your heart just grew. You’ve never felt this way.
But little did you know, that you’d love him more each day.
Time has gone so sweet and slow, but at the same time fast.
Your love for each other is greater now, than it ever was before.
But little do both of you know right now, how much you’ll love each other more.
@jemima: You write the sweetest, loveliest poetry ever, dear. You really ought to share some of these poems on your blog, too.
*hugs*
Shallow of me … but I still like my malls! :P
@Paul: I think all city folks do… but it’s nice to get away once in a while, no?
ooh i’ve had a lot of slow days lately… i think i’m starting to get a little restless @__@
@Jun: Time to rev things up, perhaps?
Bzzzzz… like a hummingbird:P
@Ciki: Hmm… a rather sly nod to where we just had our midday tea, yes? Can’t wait to see your Hummingbirds pics, dear!
Sorry Kenny, my English not good, I can’t understand >.<
@Choi Yen: Aww, don’t worry about it. Just go with the flow… I always do. *winks*
Boo for disfiguration caused by frozen tits! Yay for pizza, hot showers, contentment and the luv of the Devil! :)
@J the chocoholic: I wonder if any readers think I mean the female variety by any chance… (I most assuredly don’t. For one, it wouldn’t be disfiguration in such a case, more of a delight, really. Ahem.)
there is a word for cold men’s tits; I call it “nippie”.
come to think about it I used to get it all the time in hong kong. rock solid.
@mr sekimachihato: Nippy nipples = “nippies”? I love that! Hahaha…
Shall I ask whether you got your nippies from the cold or something else? Certainly would be a sight to behold – your personable pair standing to attention. Ahem.
I “usually” only get nippie from the cold. *wink wink*
@mr sekimachihato: “Usually”, eh? What about the rest of the time? One can only speculate (and have a mighty fine time imagining the alternatives, heh heh).
Sorry to burst your bubble.. but this is also a sign of old age. Haha!
But I like the way you putting things into perspective for the old me. Thanks. :D
@gina: If this is what old age is like, then it ain’t so bad after all. *beams*
Umm… I kinda get away from our malls to travel to other malls / markets. :P
@Paul: *guffaws*
Yet, somehow, I so know what you mean. Oh dear.
ARRRGGGHHH! saints preserve us! super-mushy blog entry agaaaaaaain! :D
p.s. i’ll name and shame them. domino’s ALWAYS disappoints me. either i perpetually receive my pizza late (a vicious circle of “free pizza” coupons, but ONLY redeemable if you order ANOTHER pizza first) or the pizzas are charred beyond god’s grace :P
@Sean: Where got? This is fiction, I swear, not about me at all! *chuckles*
P.S. Poor Domino’s. Poor Sean. Hehe.
love your writing as always :)
slow days… yeha i ultimately love this kind of days :) hohohoho which i am having right now… spending some of my time in the kitchen :)
@fufu: … and I like the results you’ve been having in the kitchen. Super cute and looks delicious!
Domino’s pizza! It’s been a while.. So did you get a next pizza free? ;) Hehe
@iamthewitch: Ah, you’d have to ask the characters in this story then – for myself, it’s been ages since I ordered pizza via delivery; gotta have it fresh out of the oven!
No slow days for me. Everyday is like a storm. Even in sleep, there is deep roar within the recesses of mind.
@Michelle Chin: One too many textbooks, I fear…
slow days..not everyone can afford to have these kind of slow days, it’s a privilege to be able to do so. learn a new word today “nippie”
@lena: It’s definitely a privilege – all the more reason to be grateful for them.
By the way, I’m not sure “nippie” is a real word beyond Mr. Sekimachihato’s personal usage. Hahaha…
but but but … it sounds like you. it feels like you. it even smells suspiciously like you. it HAS to be you!
i hope you’ll both be blessed enough to hold on to this contentment for an extraordinarily long time. :D
p.s. and pizza hut is no better! sometimes their delivery dudes bring the pizzas in PLASTIC BAGS, instead of those thick thermal packages. of course, the pizzas are less than lukewarm by then. grrrrrr rant rage raaaaant raaaaaaage :P
p.p.s. and on another note, hope you’ve woken up completely boil-free and pain-free today!!!
@Sean: Uhm, how on earth do you figure it SMELLS like me? My blog doesn’t come with a scratch ‘n’ sniff after all…
And. Thank you. That’s sweet of you.
P.S. I guess you don’t have an authentic Italian-style pizzeria near your place like we do. Come over and we’ll get us some real pizzas! (That could be our next makan session!)
P.P.S. Not exactly pain-free but less so. The fever’s mostly gone too. Yay.
what?! you mean your sense of smell hasn’t evolved far enough to track the scent of a blog’s writer? count yourself lucky! i’m assailed by a whiff of lemongrass, the odor of smelly socks, the perfume of angelina jolie, the stench of a dead goat or the incense of st francis xavier’s church in malacca every time i open a blog page! :D
p.s. ooooo, do you mean paradiso in taman desa? i passed it on a recent afternoon when i made that recent sojourn to ficelle, but we didn’t have time to wait for it to open for dinner. but yep, take me anywhere you like! heheh :P
p.p.s. yikes, there was a fever too? sounds like an infection-ish thingy or something that weakened your immune system, hmmm. hope you have a restful weekend then. if you require chicken soup deliveries, let me know. (if you require pizza deliveries, don’t call me, but don’t call domino’s either) :P
@Sean: I wonder which blog gives off the stench of a dead goat…
P.S. Yup, Paradiso it is! Come, come, let’s go!
P.P.S. I wouldn’t mind chicken soup, come to think of it. All I had was homemade granola by my best friend for brekkie and instant noodles (superior scallop soup, if it’s to be trusted – probably all chemicals and MSG) with two eggs for lunch. Poor sick Kenny stuck at home…
look for someone’s blog whom i never comment on lah. that would give you a clue :D
p.s. okies! i hear their migrant owners can be pretty friendly. as usual, lemme know when you have a travel-free, errand-light week, and we’ll set a date to pasta the evening away! :P
p.p.s. stuck at home is kinda nicer than being stuck in office (except for the sick part). i’m actually passing near your area at around 5-something p.m. today (passing through the mid valley road en route to PJ for makan), so please let me know if there’s anything i can get you, ya (food ingredients, groceries). not a prob, i have time today.
@Sean: But. But. But you comment on just about everybody’s blog that I know of…
P.S. That’s most of next week, really. Pasta the evening away? Maybe not – their pizzas fare far better than their noodles, methinks.
P.P.S. Aww, that’s sweet of you. But no worries, Devil will be back by six p.m. and he’ll get me dinner. Hooray.
ahhh, which means those blogs don’t smell of rotten goat lah (and neither does yours, in case you were worried, heheh). have you sniffed goat carcass? it’s really bad. like 1,000 times worse than goat cheese :D
p.s. okie, if you feel well enough to venture across your apartment threshold, lemme know. i’m good for tuesday, wednesday or thursday next week. and ya, three’s a nice number for pizza-munching (two people + one pizza = too full to eat anything else) :P
p.p.s. yay! lemme know if he brings back a vat of warm, thick mosquito blood! :D
@Sean: How on earth did you happen to end up in a situation where you were sniffing goat carcasses? You truly a brave, roving reporter, my friend!
P.S. Oh, those are all good days. Will ask Devil. BRB.
P.P.S. An entire vat? What on earth would you do with it? Bathe in the warm, scarlet liquid? Err…
oh, it was indeed back in the day when i was a REAL reporter, instead of an armchair one like now. and it was in banda aceh, where we flew to, about a week after the tsunami. when i came back, i threw away the shoes, socks and clothes i wore.
p.s. yay! sure, no worries, no rush to decide exactly when. get well first so that the smell of mozzarella doesn’t make you queasy! :D
p.p.s. now that’s an idea. have you seen the 1970s horror movie, ‘carrie.’ i think sissy spacek was doused in pig’s blood by her hateful schoolmates during the prom…
@Sean: Armchair reporter also real what… you’re not imaginary, are you?
And my good friend Ellyne also went to Aceh right after the tsunami hit. You guys are so brave. *salutes*
P.S. Devil says all the days are fine. You pick one. Hehe.
P.P.S. I doubt Sissy Spacek was half as tasty as the pig’s blood cake Devil had…
real reporters are always sniffing around for news. they shouldn’t be getting tipsy before 7 pm :D
p.s. okies, tuesday sounds good then (if you’re well by then; if not, no worries, feel free to let me know and we can reschedule). i don’t think we managed to discuss your story-compilation plan last time :P
p.p.s. talk of human flesh! blood sacrifices! what kind of blog has life for beginners turned into?!? :D
@Sean: Now that you mention it… is there any day outta your week that you aren’t getting – what’s the term for it? – hammered? smashed? Hehe.
P.S. I so plan to be well by tomorrow. I hate losing my weekends to being ill. Bummer. Uhm, story compilation? What story compilation? *makes innocent face*
P.P.S. The sort that has bloodthirsty comments by a certain KL-ite who eats and drinks daily? Ahem.