Log 7-9-13 “Make him fall madly in love with you and find out what he plans to do!”
September 7, 2013
The business world is a very dangerous place inhabited by all sorts of wild animals. From time to time, its not uncommon for my enemies to send a stunning beauty to get close to me and find out everything about my designs.
Usually, I turn them against their masters. This I do by turning the tables on them and creating perfect conditions to trip and fall head over heels in love with me – thereafter, I transform them into double agents to spread disinformation and find out about their designs.
I am very good at what I do. My timing is usually perfect and the execution is flawless. I am probably the best there is at whirling into the mind of woman and getting her to do what I want. A professional. Or so I believed – till I laid eyes on her. When she walked in just then. She brought in a her wake a storm of memories – I knew the very moment, I looked at her, everything would change forever.
It’s as if I’ve stepped on a mine and kabooom! She is not just any woman – not the run of the mill that I can even defuse with the same brain power it takes to tie my shoelaces – she could well be my nemesis, I reckon – as when I first laid eyes on her, all I could really do was lean back into my chair with the lingering thoughts..”you have crossed the ocean of time to find me…how can this be?”
Curse them all for this black magic! She is…no…she cannot be…. Yes she is. she is the woman from that other life. A life that no longer exist except maybe in the figment of my murky imagination somewhere in the distant land where serendipity and destiny intersects. And I am powerless to stop her…it’s impossible for me to stop her, just as its probably futile to try to hold down a ghost – I’ve just go right through her like a fog. all I can really do is watch by as she walks right into my heart…how dangerous…how very dangerous.
Living is the most dangerous thing in the world. I am not even talking about the sort of living where a man finds himself swinging by the end of a rope somewhere around the upper reaches of 16,000 ft as he tries to summit Everest. Just plain ordinary living, the type that doesn’t even involve having to drive or operate heavy machinery – the sort of day to day living, where you get up like any other day, brush your teeth, put your clothes on and join the rest of humanity as they rush off to turn the wheel of life every morning.
Living is the most dangerous thing in the world.
Especially, the boring type of living where the only thing, you seem to ever remember separating one day from another is the diminishing size of your toothpaste or it’s time to get a haircut – that sort of living has to be particularly dangerous. Much more dangerous than trying to eat cut glass or jumping out of plane to catch a parachute I reckon.
As somewhere in this benign litany where every other day is supposed to unfold exactly like one polished prayer bead that slips past another bead that resembles the last in every form, shape and texture – one rarely expects anything extraordinary to ever happen. There lies the real cinder of terror of everydayness – it has no beginning or end. It just goes on and on. Each passing day a perfect reflection of yesterday. A litany – like a job that you don’t relish – a job that you know has no beginning or end. A job that is really just a job where you don’t even see a future or a way to break out from – that has to be the most terrifying and dangerous thing in the world.
When she saw me, her eyes tore away demurely. A crimson flush of shyness began to spread all over her – I simply looked on and sipped my tea….even after I had greeted her and taken her by the arm to a pavilion where tea had been arranged with an assortment of sweets and cakes – I simply looked on as I lit another cigarette – as she sat with her body turned against me with her head slightly tilted like a swan – I simply looked on and murmured to myself,
“Living can be so dangerous.”
Life is full of unexpected twist and turns. Miss a bus. Get on the next one and that could well be the difference that changes everything or nothing at all – eavesdrop on a conversation across the table and that could take you down a path that you never thought you would ever find yourself walking. Scratch your balls on a street corner and the whole wide world will change. Here in the ordinariness of living – lies real danger. A heady mix of dynamite – two parts serepidinty. The rest epiphany. Shaken and served up with a bitter lemony taste of irony. The type where a man may very well know how it all begins – but whether it will end well or in tragedy, is never certain.
Nothing is ever what it is. Even in the litany of everydayness surprises galore lurk. where the unexpected can secret itself so skillfully like a serpent that takes the shape of a harmless vien – waiting, in secret and biding it’s time to unleash it’s surprise.
Living as you can very well see…ordinary living… can be so very dangerous.
“My mistress was the third wife of the old man who I served in the moment of my youth – she was the fairest of them all – like all women in the old man’s household, her place was set in ancient stone like the chair she occupied during her mah jong sessions with the rest of his other wife’s.
This seat which faced the East, meant she was never the first to eat and always the last to leave the table and she was expected always to pour tea for the older mistresses and remain silent unless spoken too – this was the way politics was conducted in the household of the old man – whenever the old man visited, the older mistresses would be jealous of my mistress because he only had eyes for her – so both the first and second mistress would gossip behind her back and this saddened my mistress – as she could never seem to do or say any thing right, even when she tried so very hard to please them.
In the afternoons, my mistress took long walks in the nearby park in Hampstead Heath, where I was expected to serve as her silent driver and body guard – I was always expected to stay seven paces behind her – seven paces was good, just enough room to roll, whip out my pistol and fire a shot – the old man was a triad boss in China town and had many enemies and I took my job seriously.
One afternoon during her walks, she stopped and turn towards me, in that one moment, I was struck by her tragic beauty, her eyes, mouth and almond shaped face all conspiring with the dying light transformed her into the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
In the days that followed, I found myself imagining her wind sweep hair as she looked at me mournfully, the image clung to me like seaweed never ever once leaving me and even when I dedicated myself to study, there was just enough of her to torment me – eventually she confided to me her deepest and most intimate feelings which I swore never to tell another soul – and for the first time, I realize the depths of her sorrow.
As time passed I came to relish the moment when we were together, the rustling of decaying leafs, the lingering aroma of her perfume, all these things I longed for but above all, I wished only to be with her – she always recounted to me the events of the day and I would listen to her, never once saying a word, except perhaps to nod my head to signify that I understood.
On my 23rd birthday after successfully finishing the second of my degree in Imperial College, my mistress gave me a pair of matching jade cufflinks – she swore me to secrecy and though I said, I was not in a position to accept such a valuable gift, she thrust it into my hands with a gentle smile.
Of all people, I had forgotten that which I had always reminded myself, I was my worst enemy and I accepted her gift.
In return, I bought her a set of pearl earrings – though it cost nearly a month’s wages, I knew it would make her happy and that was all that really mattered, I survived on sandwiches and instant noodles that whole month, but the thought of giving her something she would wear from time to time was enough to fill the void in me and I was the happiest man who ever lived.
That Chinese New Year, the old man celebrated with eighty eight tables – it had been a prosperous year and it was also his moment to show off his new bride to the whole of China town.
And though she sat on the main table and I was so very far away – when she saw me wearing her cuff links, she lowered her eyes and smiled shyly – though this lasted only for a moment, she was very much like a cloud being carried away with the wind as she gently touched the pearl earrings I had given her.
At age 23, I Huan Guan was like a sampan sailing into treacherous and uncharted waters.
This is my true confession, tell no one.”