Diary of Tarantula Lau – January 1st

17 03 2014

My name is Tarantula Lau. This is my diary.

I’ve started writing because I’ve lost too many things in my life, and this was the only way I could think of to keep some of them.

I remember spending New Year’s Eve in Taoranting Park, huddled in the midst of a dark crowd. All of us were there because we wanted the night to be more significant than it was. But it fizzed out anyways. There were only a few fireworks, and they were obscured by the cloud or the fog or the smog. The sound of them blurred and covered over by the honking of cars. I think I went to a bar or a nightclub afterwards, but I can’t remember how I got home and I wasn’t even drunk.

Things have a habit of slipping away – the names of people I met once or twice, a pet, or a house, or a city. Whole days, weeks, months.

I can’t remember last October. November is blurry. I know what happened in December because December only just passed.

But some things I’ve lost, I haven’t forgotten. My memories of them are so clear I can almost touch them with my fingertips.

My father, pedaling his tricycle laden with boxes stacked improbably high. The sunburnt freckles on his bald spot shifting as he pushed the tricycle up bridges or hills. His grey jacket flapping as we went down the hill, and me, sitting on top of the pile of reclaimed garbage. The crunching of bottles beneath me as we went over bumps and holes in the road. Young and on top of the world. Floating above with my arms outstretched.


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