Tuesday, May 20, 2008
the art of stalking
it's in the anticipation. u have to be poised, pre-emptive, 4, 5, 6 steps ahead, before your quarry even suspects. it's in the offensive. u have to wrap your mind around the whole scene, omniscient to the obstacles, getaways, shortcuts. it's in the careful calculations. u have to be adaptive and open to whichever possible way the subject may move. and u can never be 1 step too early in a carpark, becoz round and round and round, it's a rigid 1-way route.
from my vantage, i saw her. through the drab grey concrete and numbered pillars, through the glass of the enclosure, she appeared from the lifts and stopped at the autopay. i saw the long fingers dipping for coins. the curtain of hair as she bent for change. the casual toss as she stood again. "beeeaauutiful," i whispered, "my lucky day?"
now the game begins. she stepped out. the barriers fell away, and she was just 300 metres away from my murky windscreen, a living target. i trained my hungry eyes on her delectable, tightly-jeaned legs, and knocked the gearshift down. N flipped off, D lighted up. i rolled. left? right? and after, which way? while probability is a science, intuition is a fine-tuned skill. i trundled along patiently while the distance lengthened.
distance was not the crucial factor here, it was the path. do i turn here? no, she was still following the carpark's main grid-lines. keys appeared in her tantalizing fingers. that was just bait, hang on there, hold up, wait it out. do i turn here then? no. the mind of the pedestrian has no room for the mind of the driver. she angled herself and slid sideways, cutting a path between the rows of cars. see? never be 1 step too early.
we leveled on the next turn, my gaze still following her gait like a hound. she had no idea. i stayed the 300 metres. she flicked her wrist with the fob, an arrogant flourish, a pretence at nonchalance. a slick red coupe beeped, headlights flashing in answer. it felt like a triumphant checkmate. "mine!" i crowed through gritted teeth as i surged forward, exhilarated, to grab her parking spot.
from my vantage, i saw her. through the drab grey concrete and numbered pillars, through the glass of the enclosure, she appeared from the lifts and stopped at the autopay. i saw the long fingers dipping for coins. the curtain of hair as she bent for change. the casual toss as she stood again. "beeeaauutiful," i whispered, "my lucky day?"
now the game begins. she stepped out. the barriers fell away, and she was just 300 metres away from my murky windscreen, a living target. i trained my hungry eyes on her delectable, tightly-jeaned legs, and knocked the gearshift down. N flipped off, D lighted up. i rolled. left? right? and after, which way? while probability is a science, intuition is a fine-tuned skill. i trundled along patiently while the distance lengthened.
distance was not the crucial factor here, it was the path. do i turn here? no, she was still following the carpark's main grid-lines. keys appeared in her tantalizing fingers. that was just bait, hang on there, hold up, wait it out. do i turn here then? no. the mind of the pedestrian has no room for the mind of the driver. she angled herself and slid sideways, cutting a path between the rows of cars. see? never be 1 step too early.
we leveled on the next turn, my gaze still following her gait like a hound. she had no idea. i stayed the 300 metres. she flicked her wrist with the fob, an arrogant flourish, a pretence at nonchalance. a slick red coupe beeped, headlights flashing in answer. it felt like a triumphant checkmate. "mine!" i crowed through gritted teeth as i surged forward, exhilarated, to grab her parking spot.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
'flying gives u wings
and the word of the day is: latissimus dorsi.
go figure.
go figure.
