I have a job interview in less than three hours and I have not prepared. I wonder if working out at train lines and transport logistics would be interesting, a sort of dream job to be finally shift into the urban environment side of things. But the city sometimes mortify me, with all its noise and movement. I prefer quietude.
Ashaari tells me to write of the 40km coastal walk we took last week, one consisted of 14 hours of walking and talking and jumping and hiking and eating and drinking river water. Dead birds along the coast. He tells me to write it in Bahasa Melayu, so he can read it, and left me the next day with a note of ‘Terima kasih menjadi kawan yang best’. I feel compelled to honour this request but haven’t had the time to write down anything yet. Yet here I am procrastinating.
Curating the account has left me with the desire to tell. Dish tells me I am doing a good job, but I simply am following the way my lecturer has taught me (bits of it, at least). I saw her yesterday. While I was in the library reading and borrowing some other stuff. She was returning some books at the entrance (I saw her from the second floor, and the sight of her pleased me). I couldn’t help but smile, and knowing she would be in the literature section, I went to add stacks of Plath to be read later. She was talking to some other lecturer, wedged between the shelves, getting excited about a poem. I didn’t know if I should say hello. Maybe an email of thanks, after the results are out.
I got your mail today. Some parts of the journal made me sad. The guilt of never reciprocating.
Did you know Yukio Mishima died by committing seppuku in the end?
perkaraperkara 