Bee Sting/Beasting

1. First late night hang out with artists since I got back to Malaysia three months ago. Three nights before I leave for London.

2. First time someone has asked me about the culture shock I feel about being back. Relief to be asked and to be able to talk about it.

3. Surprised by the repetition of the word “ejaculation” on stage. Angry at an audience member’s request for a rape scene to be depicted more “realistically”. Surprised at how shaken I was by the sexual violence I saw on stage this evening. Hopeful, having spoken to the makers. Hopeful, having spoken to the audience. Extremely relieved and grateful that I wasn’t the only one in the room who had thought about the objectification of women, about toxic masculinity.

4. Met a MAN, and not a white, western man, who is writing a script about toxic masculinity! Funded a man in London who’s work explores masculinity. Have met men of various racial backgrounds in one evening who have been provocative, smart, proactive, amazingly honest about what could be perceived as vulnerability, and generously curious about the world.

5. Engaging with women who seem terrifyingly beautiful, together and successful. Touched by their generosity and kindness. We don’t need to understand each other to be kind.

6. Life is short. Or pointless. Or meaningful. Clear or mysterious. What is survival? What is living?

I was told to write. Write about all the feelings I’m feeling. But what or who for? If (?) we have a finite amount of energy in the world, and a finite time to be alive, what do we spend it on?

Incidentally, am choosing to practice certain religious or spiritual practices now, at the point where I feel most nihilistic.

And there’s a baby crying in the night. Or cats, fucking.

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