Thursday, December 16, 2004
Zero clicks in an early evening and I step off the kerb of the weary metalled road onto faded padi fields.
Ten clicks by first nightfall and I still manage the smiles and jokes with my three other mates.
Twenty clicks at two am and I am already walking in my sleep stumbling in zigs and zags across the tar.
Thirty clicks, beyond twelve hours since our first step and we push on.
Forty clicks past the break of dawn and my legs become lead, dead weight walking.
Fifty clicks in the midday and heat entrapped manifests in nausea and dizziness.
Sixty clicks on the bund against a violet-orange sky and we are nearly there.
Seventy clicks along a long lonesome road leading to nowhere but in the dearth of light at road's end it is not far.
Seventy-two plusplus clicks and it is over. Exercise Spitfire is over.
--------
It may not have been that much a journey of self-rediscovery nor self-renewal as they might have said, but what an experience indeed to nudge the limits. Hong, MJ, Mel, I made it; we made it. :)
And it is Christmas again, how fast they come and go. I grow a little weary of the traditional symbolism and connotated cliches this time round. So maybe I do need someone to be close by this season. Love actually.. is all around. Or, should be all around. So why do I feel that it has missed me out. Not another Christmas eve night spent in my room with a lonely guitar. Not another Christmas night with a lone flute glass who has not a champagne pair in sight. Not another.
I wrote Lonely Christmas twenty-four months ago and it remains as true now as it was then..
But I shall still give my thanks for all that I still love and hold. As has always been, as will always be.
Ten clicks by first nightfall and I still manage the smiles and jokes with my three other mates.
Twenty clicks at two am and I am already walking in my sleep stumbling in zigs and zags across the tar.
Thirty clicks, beyond twelve hours since our first step and we push on.
Forty clicks past the break of dawn and my legs become lead, dead weight walking.
Fifty clicks in the midday and heat entrapped manifests in nausea and dizziness.
Sixty clicks on the bund against a violet-orange sky and we are nearly there.
Seventy clicks along a long lonesome road leading to nowhere but in the dearth of light at road's end it is not far.
Seventy-two plusplus clicks and it is over. Exercise Spitfire is over.
--------
It may not have been that much a journey of self-rediscovery nor self-renewal as they might have said, but what an experience indeed to nudge the limits. Hong, MJ, Mel, I made it; we made it. :)
And it is Christmas again, how fast they come and go. I grow a little weary of the traditional symbolism and connotated cliches this time round. So maybe I do need someone to be close by this season. Love actually.. is all around. Or, should be all around. So why do I feel that it has missed me out. Not another Christmas eve night spent in my room with a lonely guitar. Not another Christmas night with a lone flute glass who has not a champagne pair in sight. Not another.
I wrote Lonely Christmas twenty-four months ago and it remains as true now as it was then..
But I shall still give my thanks for all that I still love and hold. As has always been, as will always be.
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