Blue Velvet

While not quite the same as David Lynch’s film Blue Velvet, early Wednesday mornings haiku games proved to be darkish, sort of, well maybe not…


Since Wednesday I’ve been tad ill, flu symptoms: hot behind the eyes, hot flushes, achy, bloated stomach, shivers and sweats. It started off a few hours after lunch (roquefort endive salad and pork cutlet in a mustard cream sauce, 1/4L of red wine); thoughts of swine flu jumped into my mind, but I’ve not been to Mexico and I haven’t been into contact with any strangers; though that’s hard to say given that it’s the middle of the Cannes Film Festival, where there are all manner of people from all around the globe milling about. However, its more likely food poisoning from lunch or the previous night’s dinner.

So after three mild bouts of fever, chills, sweats, then normal for a few hours, I finally had the big one Thursday night. Went to bed early around 9h00 and had 5 hours of fever, then all of sudden 5 hours of the sweats. Had to change my bed clothes thrice and the bed sheets was soaked in sweat by the time I woke up. I felt very ragged. But the worst appeared to be over.

Being alone is often a bummer, but being alone and sick is even worse. You still have to cook for yourself, walk the dog, monitor your own condition. If there is ever a time when you need a companion or mother to help you, it has to be when you’re sick. I’ve had many illnesses since I was a baby that my mother nursed me through. And I think it is when you’re sick that you remember fondly the maternal care given to you, and how your mother’s embrace gave you warmth, energy, and much love.

Updated 2009-05-25: Appears my illness is the result of chickenpox (more), which I never had as a kid. What shit luck. Love to know where I got it from.

Resonate Thoughts

I’ve written before about The Grandfather Clock (Tempus Fugit) that came from our former family chalet. Well it stands right next to my desk, ticking and chiming away the moments of each day. This morning while preparing my earlier post and playing haiku games on twitter, I snapped out of a moment of reverie as the clock struck the top of the hour. A flash of l’Esterel and the seasons past came to mind along with a wistful smile.

Festive Birds

It was late Friday night and I had an unexpected visitor come to Cannes and drag me out to wonder about the Cannes Film Festival. We eventually ended up at Croisette 72 café opposite the Martinez hotel for drinks and people watching.

This past weekend the Cannes Film Festival parties were subdued compared to past years. I didn’t hear any music drift down from the hills of Cannes through the night. Normally the first weekend during the festival has several loud late night parties. It wouldn’t be so bad if they invited some of the neighbours, like me; if I’m going to be kept awake, I may as well have some fun.

Regardless whether the festival is on or not, the early spring mornings in Cannes around av. Isola Bella are very peaceful. Only the steady rhythm of birds as dawn’s light rises and the last remnants of Jasmine scents are carried by the mild chill air.

Late Night Ambition