"When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object."
– Milan Kundera

The Trumpet of the Swan

In an effort to fight my mid afternoon drowiness and complete my "soon to be overdue if I don't buck up" task, I mindlessly googled The Trumpet of the Swan. Well, I'm quite sure there was a reason why I did, but I can't for the life of me remember now.

The Trumpet of the Swan by EB White was one of my best loved books as a kid, sent to me all the way from California by my eldest sister (together with many model car kits which I enjoyed spending hours gluing together...Mustangs, Mustangs, Mustangs. Always Mustangs, she sent me). We were also introduced to his other books, Stuart Little and Charlotte's Web, which were such a joy to read, compared to watching the pathetic excuses of movies which totally ripped away the images I conjured up as I read the books. DVDs and movies spoil the pleasure of imagination we once had as kids. Now my own kids, are just too lazy too read the originals. My fault I guess. My lapses as a mum.

Oh. Yes. I googled Trumpet of the Swan, and I came across this piece, which coincidentally was written fro the July/August 2009 issue of the Orion.

What a beautiful review of the book and its background. As a commenter put it, its an intricate weave of the literary, of personal memories and feelings conjured by the book, of environmental awareness, of science and might I add, the arts.

You can read it here.

The Trumpet of the Swan

Storybook creatures and the revival of a species
by Kim Todd
July/August 2009 Orion magazine

I don't know where my copy went to. But I'm going to get another one and read it to my kids.

O Weary Wanderer
come home now
for
it is time
for me
to lock you up
and throw the key away
far, far away
so you can't slip out
anymore
and no one
can slip
in.

To draw you out
and leave you to wander
again.

Further
further
further...
than ever
before...
lest you may never
find your way back
home
again.

Love your neighbors

Will it be self-defense if someone smashes the kid next door's thick skull with the metal spoon he is continuously banging his mother's pans with since this morning? After one bashes the mum with the chappati tawa itself?

Will it be temporary insanity?

Absolutely justifiable homicide?

A crime of passion?

Yes..one simply cannot be faulted for being driven (in fantasyland) to find a satisfying end to the endless "banging on the bongos like a chimpanzee" (that the boy is).

One needs to work. One needs peace. And only a cup of tea and the soft breeze. And a view of the endless blue skies that have cleared of the Indonesian-generated smog they call "haze".

Yes... pesky neighbours.

I would suggest we NUKE the Indons. And get our supply of fresh air and blue skies back. I don't care if those in KL die from the locally generated smog that is er...localized. At least from my hill, I can still breathe.

But the Indons. They just fart everywhere. Rude buggers. (Hey, don't blame the Malaysian plantation companies..blame your ownselves for being corrupt and ALLOWING it to happen!)

Nuke them I say.

Would solve MANY problems. Including crime. And rid myself of certain in-laws.

And relieve me of my annual smog-induced SAD. Yesterday my brain was as smoggy as the Indons' fart. Well, only those who know, know what I mean. The others, save it. Or better yet, stick it.

But for now, I just want the little monkey next door to stop.

Maybe I will call the Perhilitan people.

Semalam...

...I made roast chicken (whole), couscous and salad. It was the first time I made couscous...suprisingly simple. Just boil water, dump the couscous and let it absorb the water for 5 minutes. Season with olive oil and salt.
Ze couscous in tajine ala morroco...gambar hiasan...yang betul dah habis dimakan

My kids love everything I cook. They love all kinds of food. Even gulai rebung with daging salai. Gulai perut. Sambals. Dhalls. Sushi. Etc. Etc. So do I. I love my own cooking. Yes, I am that narcissistic. When I cook, I go for 2nd and 3rd helpings. Sakinah goes for 5. Maryam will still be nibbling at her first when I've already started to clear the table. A dainty eater. But kills the dining partner. Each bite is like one billionth of a nanometer. She has a big mouth and big laugh. But when she eats. It's sheer torture for the one watching. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting...and waiting...and waiting...and...you get the picture.

Anyways, my roast chicken was fabulous. First time I made it whole too. I only use loads of olive oil, garlic, onions and rosemary flakes. And dollops of butter (not the killer, plasticky margarine...at least with butter, you die HAPPY, because it tastes like manna from heaven). The chicken I rub with rock salt, and stuff whole garlic pips under the skin all over. I only buy chicken from Dr Zainal, because I know he doesn't feed them other chickens' leftover parts, or worse, aliens ground up. I don't want to get Mad-Chicken Disease as in Mad Cow Disease. The cows go mad because they are forced to go against their nature and eat other ground up cows (or what remains of them) instead of good old grass. Who wouldn't go mad being forced to eat their own mother or brother who used to "MOO" beside them before being led to the slaughter house? Half of us humans are also mad, because at one time, bread conditioners/softeners were derived from human hair. So many of humanity are closet cannibals. Which explains the blood-lust in the Bush/Livni/Olmert/Obummer kinds. That's only half the story, this human hair thingy. You don't wanna know the rest.

Just stay organic and simple and stick to the Pasar Tani ulams and stuff.

I cover the chicken in foil first and roast it for an hour to cook it throughly, before browning it uncovered, till the skin is crispy and the halved potatoes, carrots and whole onions nicely browned along. You can also stuff the cavity with cooked rice flavored with saffron and almonds and raisins for a Morrocan/Algerian twist. But I stuffed my chicky with a halved lemon and loads of garlic and onions.

A one dish meal for the lazy ones.

Ini gambar hiasan. Mine was moist with lots of olive oil and chicken juices. Tak sempat tangkap gambar...sebab dah kena sambar.

The salad I forgot to crumble the feta cheeselah! Otherwise, It would have looked like this:


And today...

We eat outlah. Malas nak masak.

Grey Gardens

I watched Grey Gardens last night.

Starred my fav actresses, Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange. Barrymore is one great actor. And I admire her for pulling herself out of the hell she descended into at such a young age. Heck, I'm even starting to admire Britney and the way she came back. People built her up and then ravaged her like vultures when she f stemming from envy, watching them crumble. Well, I wouldn't want to lead the same lives as some of the rich, famous and clueless, whose only aim is life is to get rich and then stupidly drunk, but I loathed seeing the way Britney was hammered by the our hypocritical society.

Anyway, the movie revolves around a reclusive once socialite mum and daughter, Edith "Big Edie" Bouvier Beale and Edith "Little Edie" Beale, (they shared the same name), the aunt and first cousin of Jackie Bouvier Kennedy. They lived in a crumbling 28-room mansion in the wealthy postal code of East Hampton, New York. After the older Edith's husband left her for another woman (same cause always), mother and daughter continued to live in the mansion which mum refused to give up in squalor and isolation as their trust fund dried up.

The younger Edith first went to New York to pursue her dreams of becoming an actress, fell in love with a married man who then dumped her (it was only sex! are you trying to sabotage my marriage?! he snarled at her when she naively thought she meant more and dropped by his hotel unannounced, not knowing wifey was there...). I find it hilarious. That men always play the victim in this game. You can't win either way. You become a loyal wife, full-time mum, your life revolves around him and kids...he still strays, looking for something more. You are an independent careerwoman, not a fulltime homemaker, which some men look for too, and then he still strays and looks for a submissive one. And then you have the cowardly ones...who want to stray, but still keep their marriage. And fuck everyone else up with their games and deceit. As long as they don't get burned, that's fine. Everything else is collateral damage. Never mind that the goods very already damaged by someone elses' game.

Men sure played a huge part in the descent of these two ladies. The mum refuses to give up her memories and life she shared with the ex-husband in the mansion, and the daughter , manipulated by the lonely mum, and newly broken-hearted by the married cad, gives in to her mum's pleading to come home and give up her dreams.

And so, they live for decades together. A strange, mutually dependent relationship.

A story of love, sacrifice, duty and broken dreams.

At the end of the story, based on a 1975 documovie on this "couple's" life,"Little" Edie who finally manages to lead her life after mum dies, selling the house and peforming in cabarets and living in different cities, had this to say, "my mother gave a me a priceless life". Go figure.

Watch the unbearable filth the two lived in...and know that people actually DO live in such conditions all over the western "developed" world...

Depressing, yet heartwarming at the same time. Especially how "Little" Edie keeps her faith and joy of living under such conditions and her mother keeps her pillar of strength persona despite her needing her daughter.

A MUST WATCH film about life. And read this fascinating encounter and interview HERE with Little Edie by Gail Sheehy.

Doktor cakap tadi, jantung mungkin bermasalah.

I feel pregnant, like a baby kicking me continuously in the solar plexus.

Continuous fluttering, and sudden kicks that take the breath outta me.

Saya cakap kat dia, dah memang bermasalah sijantung hati saya ni.

Doktor suruh buat stress test dan ECG sebab ada family history sakit jantung. Saya tak mahu tau details tu semua.

We're all gonna die anyway.(dia baru jugak bukak cawangan executive screening...so maybe he wants to make money tak? dunno lah...can't even trust a doctor nowadays...can't trust anyone...just trust my gut that it will go off with diet and exercise).

Now stop kicking me, whatever you are. Stop your tentacles from grabbing and constricting and fiddling with me pump.

(I think its an alien, like in Alien, where something just comes out through your gut and grabs the person sitting next to you...hahaha)