i startled my cat. she gave me scratches, i gave her a bath. take that!

then, i conquered a tiny anxiety, 272 concrete steps, and this ennui that has been steadily building up over the past few months.

manjacat seems to be settling in just fine. the first week, i cooped her in and we main mata in my room 24/7. the other two kitties – the mistress and the panther – have mixed feelings about her.

peggy is still trying desperately to be friends: rubbing noses, flopping down 2 centimetres in front of manjacat and generally being pleasant and amiable (the exact opposite of how she treats her people).

ebony is a holy black terror. growling like a fighter jet engine, scratching big tufts of fur from the mistress, slamming herself into my door trying to… eat manjacat.

my kitty has settled in the middle of this terribly complicated cat ecosystem, found a nice sleeping spot under the sofa upstairs and won JT’s heart and mine.

thankfully, i’m not terribly freaked by the lizards manjacat constantly brings home for me, and i can’t stress how much i enjoy having a purring cat-pillow to hug to sleep at night.

thanks, lains & liy. :)

QOTD (without any context):
i mean… we have cats together!

lemon chamomile. or potpourri. same difference.

if i had to stop smoking to keep my complexion, i wou- oh, ya right.

for some it might be money, pretty dresses, 1000 pairs of shoes, a boy, a girl, love, a good fuck, facebook, tattoos, alcohol, television, even billy corgan.

my own quiet fixation? blue skies and birds.

she spends hours (and i mean hours) painstakingly making these damned flowers – petal by tiny petal – by hand. i asked whether they sold them at shops. she told me they were too uniform so she had to make them by hand to get them the shape/size she wants.

how can you not be proud of crafting like this?

does this mean my photos will be all award-winning picture perfect? hardly. it just means i don’t have to mooch off JT’s yummy lens (which has spoilt me for life) and i can also now peek into my neighbour’s house from the comfort of my room.

p/s nothing interesting has happened so far.

he warned me that it isn’t a terribly expensive lens. like, who’s care, hon? it’s a lovely present. i love it, and i love you. <3
nikkor 70-300mm AF G. i just took a few photos of the moon tonight. i like.

tomorrow, 62mm filter!

they look like stills from some chinese horror movie. i like very much.

so malacca is, in the loosest sense, a home town of sorts. sketchy family history about supposed baba nyonya heritage, teochew wanderers touching points along the west coast, and the annual ching bing (qing ming to you) trip which i’ve never participated in, all tie me back to the state. plus i am head-over-heels for the lard-soaked chicken rice balls. probably the strongest proof of my heritage, methinks.

closed my eyes and picked two cameras to accompany me on the trip: the beloved LC-A+ and the paradoxically under- and over-rated golden half.

expired centuria dnp lends a rather strong purple haze to all photos (tested in a few trial rolls) which i’m not particularly fond of. i guess despite my occasionally pink hair, i’m a conventional girl at heart.

the weather was blazing, which just screamed for a fixed-speed toy cam and a tribe toyota brolley.

how obliging.

overpriced baubles and the throngs of KLites aside, the town has also fascinated me with that delicious creepiness old abandoned buildings have. as you peek through a crack in a mildewed door, you start pondering the “whys” “hows” and especially the “whos” of this dilapidated shell of a house, even expecting to be greeted by an unblinking otherwordly eye (because that’s what always happens in the movies, ok).

these place are supposedly unclean but with my starbucks-numbed senses i couldn’t and haven’t felt a thing. maybe just a little imagined loss and despair which in all probability stems from me trying to inject some romanticism into my yuppie life.

still, annual pilgrimages to the place has made me a little sick (though we could pin that on the horrid horrid satay celup).

chicken rice balls. check. st paul’s church. check. techni trishaws. double and triple checked. eye on malaysia. maybe not. baba house. hmm. cendol. check. geographer. limau limau. jonker after 8pm. it’s as if time elbowed its way forward just to stand still.

a sparkling, gleaming white tomb of a 500-years dead and gone and forgotten malay warrior. i dare you to make sense of that.

but then again, i’m merely rambling, waiting for my hair to set. which it just has.  i wish i were a peranakan princess.