This is Laeng Zai

(Cantonese for good looking child)

Some years ago, someone suggested I get a lovebird. Yesterday I finally caved. Was gonna just get a cage because that’s all I thought I could afford this month… but then the bird shop had a CNY promo for lovebirds that was ending that very day, and the cage is actually dirt cheap compared to the ones sold in mall pet stores, so here it is. I hope it’s a boy…

And I am still comfortably-off because of some fortunate twist of fate that gave me a refund on most of my latest bulk grocery purchase…

As if the universe conspired to enable me to get this lovebird for company just before CNY…




Poison of choice: Gin, neat.

I think I’d like this to be a weekly thing. Takes my mind off the misery.

Bloody institutional, political barriers impeding my recovery, my moving onward, and upward.

I should not have said I will not cook or bake for sale. But if anyone asks, I will not make food for a living, and I will only make food for sale if asked, and if I’m happy with the terms of engagement. And I expect to also be paid. Leave the charity to the millionaires and billionaires.



Diary of one with very low energy now, really

(Perhaps documenting the time before my death, for I am really, really tired. Simply existing is exhausting. Heavens, give me a job for which I’d happily wake up on time and show up for every day.)

Tried my induction cooker for the first time; super stoked that the handles of this wholly stainless steel mixing bowl/wok/double-boiler insert remained cool throughout the process.

Such are life’s simple pleasures…so one tells oneself.



Life Pt 2

Oh, bloody brilliant. Just when I thought the butterfly scourge was over.

Just when I had written that I think I’ve stopped functioning.

And I just want to lie in bed and do nothing.

A bed that I have to work to maintain.

I wish I could have someone take care of me. Decide for me what to eat, and make me eat at the appropriate times. But not institutional slop FFS. (When Fleabag says this it’s cool.)

This caterpillar was born knowing exactly what it is to do.

What am I supposed to do with my life?




This morning, I didn’t even feel like getting up to eat. What will I have?

Still, I dragged myself out of bed to make this: waffles with applesauce and cinnamon in batter and sloppily applied ice-cream and honey.

What am I supposed to do with my life…




It’s quite the conundrum when one has no energy to cook but one still prefers one’s own cooking to outside food.

The booster shot is a bitch…

Oven-baked mandoline-sliced fries, yesterday. Charred in places, but the browned bits are the best. Today’s delivery takeaway was meh in comparison to yesterday’s home-cooked chicken & chips.