Pillow Talk
I was visiting the other night, checking how the cookies crumbled--warmly and with perspiration, as it turned out. You can have your biscuits and eat them too. A corker of a cassette was baking in the basket, a recording of Pillow Talk, a Hong Kong late-night radio show. With plenty of ying and a little yang, yong, the dough was ready to go.
I was reminded of Utamaro. The man had panache and genuine skill; I went with my father to an exhibition of his art generations ago. The yellow pillow-book was evidence of his charms: exotic, erotic and heavily narcotic (probably opium) or so it seemed to me. There were cakes in the tea-rooms and the cookies were reclining on pillows of silk.
'These pictures are very naughty,' my father said.
'That's why we came, dad,' I replied.

Watching Craig David's Off the hook DVD, I was impressed by his sense of awe--the little asides and touches that convey his feeling that success was unexpected and still a dream. He speaks of receiving a phone call from Puff Daddy, of how fast everything has happened and how far he has come; there are cute touches such as the info that he was the goalie in the school's football team. His dedication to his vision and determination to develop his talent shine through brightly as well. I think Craig could be a genuinely positive role model for his generation--apart from music, the only other addiction that comes across is for coffee!
The DVD is also infinitely better put together than his website, which makes me cringe every time I check it out: flash and shockwave are just not attractive and viable options for third-world browsing.

A psychotic woman in a town bar reminded me of Olivia in Twelfth Night, 'Tis not that time of month in me to make so skipping a dialogue'. Like Malvolio, she smiled so, seemed on heat and replied so oddly. I don't know if the moon is going through a phase at the moment or if Valentine fever is stalking abroad like a contagious illness or if my pheromones are bursting out like ripened buds. Whatever it is I'm not fond of it, or her.
On the other hand, my pocket chickadee was looking cool and superfine, bright and blushful, and tasty la vita.