Oh, I promise I’ll blog about my trip to the supermarket.

Oh, I didn’t get around to it.

Oh, I can’t be bothered putting any make-up on today.

This is how I dye my hair.

This is what I eat for breakfast.

I am dropping off my dry cleaning.

Is that a pimple on my cheek?

I am in the car driving to my husband’s tattoo parlour so we can go out to dinner when he finishes up for the day …

Lucy Molloy is everywoman.

Yes. This is the life Avigail should be living. This is the life she longs to live. The life of everywoman. But Lucy Molloy is already living this life, damn her. No existential anguish. No obsessive thoughts on global warming. Did that amazing cream blusher arrive in the mail from America yet? Shall we go out for waffles at the mall?

Avigail suspects Lucy Molloy’s life feels rather like you’re a large bluebottle happily drowning in a deliciously glittery pool of pineapple-flavour lipgloss.

Oh yes. The normal life. The sanctified life. This is the life Ying Yue should be living. If only Ying Yue could somehow contrive to wade across the perpetually gushing river of difference that appears to separate her from just about everyone else on the planet (and even from herself), then she too could have a life just like Lucy Molloy’s. All her decisions so hugely small. All her challenges so magnificently minimal. All her thoughts so deliciously curtailed. This gorgeous, shimmering myopia. This weirdly disgruntled bland-happy-different-same-pretty-unchallenging-modern-unthinking-blinkered-independent-unblinkered-sort-of-free-unfree-impossibly-possibly-laundry-Disney-Channel-waxing-friends-tapas-fill the car with diesel etc. life.

Does Lucy Molloy know that your true peace and your true joy are uncaused?

Huh?

Does Lucy Molloy know that life consists of beauty-terror-knowledge (aka desire-suffering-enlightenment)?

Huh?

It’s unlikely.

She has no need to know.

Because she is blessed.

Blessed.

If only Avigail and Ying Yue knew that they were both worshippers at the altar of Lucy Molloy – that the diverse/magical/complex patterns of their individual lives converge and are conjoined within the singular persona of Lucy Molloy – how different this all might be. The vibe. The mood. The exchanges. The atmosphere. Everything. But they don’t know. And they are unlikely to find out because there are now only eight short minutes still remaining of this particular house viewing.

Oh my.

7.59

And counting.

Richard Grannon likes to repeat the phrase ONLY DEAD FISH GO WITH THE FLOW.

Richard Grannon believes it’s good to buck the system. To think out of the box.

Richard Grannon does not approve of religion. He thinks religion is just an excuse not to take ownership of your own life and destiny. He loosely associates it with the dread concept of ‘magical thinking’. Although he does believe in something he calls ‘semangat’ which is a Malay word that refers to a kind of mind energy, a sort of positive, humming, joyful inner song.

Hang on …

It’s that time again! Charles really needs to check in on his emotions (even if he doesn’t really believe that he has any – even then).