16th December, Thursday

Of course I’d resign from work if I won the lottery. But not right away because not only would that be rude, but I’m not that sort of person.

But I would definitely fly home to the Philippines and to hell with MIQ. Maybe I could fly to Australia and find a yacht to hire and cross the Tasman, as some have done it that way. Imagine quarantining in the ocean, eating lobster and drinking champagne for breakfast.

But I do need to go home. Mom had a small accident recently doing something she could have done at another time and I’m beginning to see myself in the same situations- loving independence, proud of my efficiency and checking off chores as if my life depended on it. Like my mom, I hate relaxing and my idea of it, is having finished a million things and to be finally in bed watching something or reading.

But she needs to slow down. I need to slow down.

With a couple of extra million, money you don’t really need, maybe it would buy some time to put the manic work and life ethic away for a year or two.

I could:
1. Revisit drawing and painting
2. Write that novel and not worry that it turns out to be shit (I’m pretty sure it won’t be).
3. Build a body good enough to grace an ‘influencer’ Instagram account
4. Visit old relatives in the US (though still wary of Covid).
5. Rebuild the old house in Pangasinan
6. Rebuild my dad’s ancestral home

The week before Christmas

Christmas for me is like going to another country- the getting there is the more exciting part.

I think because in my head, I have all these images and expectations of what the day is going to be like, and they rarely ever match-up with reality. But the getting there- the tomorrow and the next days that you never quite plan for- offer the most surprises. And yet, we never try to relinquish control to the fates.

But yes- everything is ready. The menu for the next two weeks has been planned; special food is on its way; all gifts wrapped and accounted for; special personal items bought (yup, bought the jacket and the shoes); work is sorted; even tried to whiten my teeth again- and yes, root canal schedule for January has been set.

What else?

I have a spare $400; what should I buy with it?

I have no kids, no dependents. I save more than 10% of my income. I’ve been working way too hard- and I haven’t bought much non-essential stuff really. I just realised, what am I giving myself this Christmas??

I have two coffee-machines, maybe I'll get a 3rd one

Vertuo Next Deluxe Dark Chrome & Aeroccino3; this is the one with the weird looking pods, $419

I feel like shooting an #antivaxxer - with a toy gun!

Technically the Shelby Destroyer foam disc blaster would be considered a toy — but the Destroyer's performance is anything but toy-like. Designed, engineered, and assembled in the US, the Destroyer aims to solve the problems of those "other" foam guns; $349

I need to be casual for Christmas dinner

MA-1 Slim Fit Flight Jacket, $349

Stocking up on winter boots

Cole-Haan’s ZERØGRAND Chelsea Boot, $349

Still struggling with the heat/ a list

1. Found a new dental practice- young, enthusiastic and thorough. And most importantly, got actual dates to fix this fucking tooth.

2. Time to get a taste of some holiday food that I’ve been missing; deluxe, gourmet fruit-cake, caviar on toast, pork lechon (hopefully), truffled cheese, chicken-skin..

3. What to watch??? Dune, Spiderman, James Bond and the Eternals all showing at the same time..

4. Haven’t been exercising as much because of the heat and I think I’m plateauing.

5. Still on the hunt for little gifts

It's just Christmas

I remember a couple of years back how much of a big deal we always made it out to be.

We made at least five dishes, half of which we didn't even like- it just looked amazing on Facebook (!). I shopped like crazy and came into the New Year with my cards nearly maxed out and guiltily hearing my mom’s oft-repeated admonishment, ‘don’t be a one-day millionaire!’.

Now, we just make sure the main dish is something we love- pork, pork, pork! - with a much simpler menu.

I don’t have Facebook anymore. I only have one credit card (my trusted American Express) and just save up when I want to buy something. And I’m still NOT a millionaire and never will be.

But I’m happier. And exhausted- this fucking heat, the work (which I have to admit I love).

But the holidays are less of a hassle when you put aside your expectations - ever diminishing every year until finally, they’re at a level where they’re supposed to be which is where you are at the moment - and not be burdened by them or by sentiment.

And accepting the fact, that Christmas will never again, be how you used to have it.

Good to be home again

We’re not a sentimental family. If I was caught out of the borders, I wouldn’t be one of those sob losers (much as I sympathise with their plight) blaming the government for choices I’ve made.

But it’s more than great to see everyone again.

2nd Dec/Thursday

It’s so hot that my armpits feel as if something sticky is plastered on them (the anti-perspirant which does nothing anyway). For the longest time, I used this anti-perspirant called Old Spice Endurance. It was so industrial strength that not even soap could wash it off. I would use it everyday without realising that I was creating this layer of product that eventually transferred onto the armpits of my clothes, staining them white and ruining the; and my shirts aren’t necessarily cheap so..

I switched to a spray one that promises no staining but now I’ve learned to live with sweaty pits; I just need to remind myself not to raise my arms in public to stretch and displaying wet pits but who the fuck cares.

The more you worry about it I realised, the more you actually sweat.

Anyhow, it’s only 22 degrees in Auckland- but feels twice that and I’m thinking, I won’t be able to live in the Philippines anymore unless I confine myself in an air-conditioned prison. But no I don’t want to anymore to be honest.

Anyhow, welcome to the last 28 days or so for the shit-show that is 2021 (the world that is, and not my life).

It’s been so hot, Lily has taken to hanging out back where the sun never shines and sleeps on the cool concrete

Tuesday's Chicken Pot Pie

Pies are ridiculously easy to make, I mean if you have store-bought pastry you can literally turn anything into a pie. A pie is essentially just two things- the pastry case and the filling.

Don’t bother making your own though the only argument for that is if you’re doing large rounds and the square-shaped sheets just don’t cut it (you can roll them out again though).

And you can have literally any filling though make sure you have a binding sauce like cheese or maybe even a roux. I got one of the last two packets of chicken breast and minced them with onions, seasoning and oregano. Cooked it with a can of Campbell’s mushroom soup and two fistfuls of frozen spinach.

Put in the oven at 180 for about 40 minutes.

What are you reading? The Riftwar Saga by Raymond Feist

Just finished Dune, and while I was tempted to continue through to the next books, I thought that the Atreides saga was a bit heavy on my mind as well as evoking too close to current events. For those of you who haven’t read it, the gist of it is this- be careful of believing in leaders who promise you everything. Some nations make this mistake far too often, and we know who these are.

The difference however with Dune’s protagonist-hero Paul Atreides and real-life leaders is that he’s truly fair and moral because of course, it’s fiction. In real life, you get GARBAGE like Trump, Putin, Bolsonaro and Duterte. Well, the people who vote for them can certainly lie in the beds they’ve made and I hope they rot in them. So leaving the planet Arrakis for now..

And because real life in 2021 is still shit, I’m still doing fantasy. I’m sure I’ve read Raymond Feist before, but I’m not sure, so I’ll take a trilogy please..

27th Nov

26th Nov

It’s normal the doctor said, and R remembered a time when he would have argued with him.

So I take a 20 minute bus ride, fall asleep and relive dreams so vivid that I can literally feel the time I spent in that dream; and they were weeks, months even. And then just like that, I wake up at the beep of the bus telling me that I’ve reached my stop. And the beep is no louder than a phone notification.

There was nothing normal about this.

But then he was 167 years old, ‘frozen’ at 52 and looked no younger than 35, so he didn’t argue.

He went home and realised when he was on the bus, that he was supposed to drop by the supermarket for some stuff. Some time ago, he would take this as a sign that something was remiss. He likened it to snow loosening, slowly but surely gaining momentum and mass until it became an avalanche, a total collapse of his senses and his mind, but beyond that, he couldn’t really imagine what came next. Would it be total oblivion, a comforting blackness like dreamless sleep? Or would it be an endless dream that flowed from one scene to the next, again also comforting like being afloat on a calm ocean with your eyes closed?

But he would look at his face in the mirror- bright eyes, bright unlined, dewy skin- and know that nothing was really wrong. That he was only half-hoping, half-fearing and these two feelings never really met half-way, and after a while- fifty years to be exact- he stopped looking for signs.

New glasses

Under New Zealand’s traffic-light system, the country (Auckland) will be opening hand in hand with Covid, in the 1st week of December.

I can finally visit Doyet and the family; think of eating in a restaurant; last minute shopping (?); Physio-massage (carpal tunnel ugh); teeth (root-canal ugh) and glasses! Need an eye-check and possibly a new pair.

Here is the short-list:

24 Wednesday: hungry

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m always hungry- craving for flavour.

Restaurants are opening soon and I’m thinking, Filipino- pork sisig, crispy pata and pork barbecue. This photo was taken exactly a year ago when we had dinner at a Filipino restaurant called Kalye Manila.

I’m also craving for something sweet like cheesecake; peanut butter cheesecake.

22 Monday

The Micro-Blood Moon

A long partial lunar eclipse, dubbed a “blood micromoon” will be fully visible from Aotearoa on Friday night, with things kicking off after 8pm. The last time a similar partial eclipse occurred in New Zealand skies was nearly 800 years ago

Saturday night

Streaming is so pervasive, that sometimes I don’t finish what I’m watching and end up doing something mundane instead like laundry, a bit of work, cleaning the bathroom or planning meals. And then I realise that none of that is mundane- but stuck in bed binging on Netflix is. I feel that if I settle in, I’ll be trapped. It’s like cocaine for the eyes.

There’s a shit load of new movies and I’m not sure I’ll end up watching all of them, but here’s my list both current and upcoming:

Anything with Akwafina!

Anything with Halle Barry!

Anything with Dev Patel!

Hated the book, loved the series

If you want to know how a waking nightmare feels like, or how you want to slide your tender thumb across a sharp Japanese knife, watch this

ANYTHING WITH SANDY!

Friday's pancakes

Growing up, we called them ‘hotcakes’ of course, not pancakes. And my dad made them from scratch way before mixes were available.

It was a whole suite of American foods in his cooking repertoire way before McDonald’s or processed supermarket versions; French toast, spaghetti for dinner (and not because it was your birthday), hamburgers, and steak and fries.

Today, I wouldn’t even attempt to make pancakes from scratch only because it’s way cheaper buying a mix.

I remember making and serving once as they have always been pictured on the ads- a full-stack, like plates, and I nearly died trying to eat them all (don’t know why I even tried). Don’t be fooled by this stack- this served three people- and the size is about smaller than a saucer!

We always serve them with bacon, and if I was in the Philippines, I would have a plateful of ‘saba’ bananas on the side as well.

What are you reading? Dune by Frank Herbert

I make stories up a lot which I think of as being part and parcel of being a writer. But then I haven’t published anything; spent the last 20 years of my career being more of a graphic-designer-project manager type where copy was only a small part; and some have actually called me out that this story-telling is actually lying. Well.

Anyhow…I always claimed that I had read Dune. And I have read so many books that some I have actually forgotten until I’ve come across them again, and the 1st page is immediately familiar. And I have come across multiple copies of Dune when I was younger so in my mind, the probability was high that I had read it. The new movie version by the gifted Denis Villeneuve prompted me to try and re-read the book again so I bought a Kindle copy.

After the first page I was shocked to discover, that no, I actually have not read the book. None of it was familiar, even as I was equally shocked at how easy Frank Herbert’s prose is. In my mind, even the false memory of having read it, had within it, a false memory of what his prose was like.

Golden ticket?