You know, between working on fiction and the weekly Curbside column I do for No Contact Magazine, my appearance over on my own blog has dwindled to a sort of monthly drop-in. It’s not that I’m all outta words, perhaps time is what is in short measure here. I am happy to report that the last quarter of 2020 seems to be pulling through, not just in terms of personal circumstance, but for the rest of the world too. Vaccines, and all that.
With my return to Singapore it seems the accompanying return to screenwork was inevitable, yet it is with equal measures of surprise and delight that I’ve found myself back on set. Earlier this month, Season One of The Public Investigator, the limited-run documentary series I hosted for Clicknetwork and IMDA Singapore dropped, which makes me the eponymous investigator, I suppose, an identity I definitely need to hold dear as I move into various phases of research in my fiction. I also wrote a short-film-esqe episode of the forthcoming anthology series, Dear Internet, which begun production yesterday:
A friend and I were talking, under the cover of rain, which sounds like a trivial detail but seemed important at the time, as if these conversations could only be had when muted by the pattering of raindrops; he said to me that happiness is like the weather, but fulfillment is like the climate. They say the important thing to do is focus on nurturing the right climate, and I laughed, I said, they they they, who is this they. But I suppose the long and short of it is that I have the right climate and the wrong weather, for this year I have been deeply, deeply unhappy, even though the ground is fertile and the soil encouraging, and the pattering of my pen has produced fruit of the most unexpectedly sweet variety, fleshy, cold, and surprising.