In Continuum.

Regurgitation Part Two

So it is back to the warm water bag,the bottles of water,the late night groans and the stomach-hugging.Of course,this time involved waking up to a room that was two degrees too cold and a dog by the side of my legs,wondering what the hell just happened.My stomach is working up again,and i suspect the drinks that i had on the previous night.I wonder what drove me to drink all those liquid,i wonder what drove me to utter stupidity.But no matter the reason,this is what happened.

I logged off from the internet,the sound of the computer ticking off resonated as i tucked myself in next to the Maltese in the floor.It was a cold night,and i quivered as i got myself comfortable.There was a strange feeling in my stomach again,but i ignored it and rooted the problem to the dropping temperature.But that ignorance didnt help,as the feeling grew and grew like the last time i experienced it in Singapore.It's not exactly gastric or stomach-flu,but that strange sensation of vomit wanting to come out but cant,and you end up burping nonstop all through the night.

I woke up at 530am,if i slept at all,and sat in bed wondering if i should wake the ladies for some pills.They woke up anyway,and i ended up sitting on the cold couch at 6am with a bucket of hot water under my feet,a warm waterbag on my stomach and more groaning.I havent slept at all,and the dog was curious why i was groaning so bad in the first place.The curious incident of the dog in the night,sniffing around the bucket of water while licking my wet toes,showing it's little act of kindness in the midst of not knowing anything whatsoever.

I hate this feeling,of wanting to vomit but cant.I think it mustve been the vodka i drank last night,mixed with two bottles of water,beef noodle as dinner,two cups of home-made coffee and then chinese tea.It's not that either of them were particularly strong,but the mixture of them mustve caused something to bubble up inside of me.It felt like a ball revolving around in my stomach,threatening to tear the tissue off the sides of my intestines.It wasnt pain,just this dull sensation of regurgitation.It felt bad,really bad.And as i sat with my feet submerged,i wondered why i am having these strange sensation more often as of late.Nothing has changed,not my eating habits,or the food that i am eating.Just strange i guess,or maybe i am growing weaker?

I think i am feeling better now,sitting in the cold livingroom with my mother and aunt wandering around,talking about stuff while i groaned.It's been an hour,and the previously curious dog has now collapsed in it's own bed,dreaming of a nice dog-bowl of shredded chicken and perhaps a female Maltese,if it knows of the existence of female Malteses at all.With the bottom up,hind legs kicking the empty air,i envied how readily it could turn off and fall asleep while i suffered from excessive gas.You,damn dog.

Snowed In

Temperatures took a death plunge this morning when i woke up.The cold air rushed into my blanket the moment i flipped it off my body,with the dog on top struggling to gain its balance on the tsunami made from plain fabric.I was woken up by the dog again,with its front paws on my chest and smelling my nose for some reason,the perfect alarm clock i'd say.

The little monitor on the air-conditioning in the livingroom has a thermometer that shows the temperature of the air indoors.15 Degrees,that's the lowest temperature it has been since i landed here,and the outside temperature is traditionally two or three degrees lower than that.Winter of Taiwan,the familiar chill.Awesome!

I've always liked it when it is cold rather than warm.Nobody ever understood my theory,but i'll try to explain it here.You see,when you are really cold with the temperatures dropping to close to or beyond zero,you can put on a hell lot of clothes to keep yourself warm.That's not a problem,because there is a way to prevent you from any discomfort.But the humidity and discomfort in Singapore due to the heat is different.Even if you strip off all your clothes and run around in the nude,you are still going to feel hot because that's the way it is.You can hide from coldness but never from the hot.

But of course,no matter how low the temperatures decides to plunge,it is probably not going to snow in the cities anytime soon,unless mother nature decides to reenact the scenes from The Day After Tomorrow,which was a dumbass movie in the first place,i wouldnt know.As the weather forcast on television was informing us about the approach of the cold air mass from China,my uncle asked us if we've seen or touched snow.I remember snow,the way they crunched under our feets and how they fell like rain but not as rapidly,and not nearly as noisy.It just fell like a million cotten,falling carefully on the shoulders of everybody under its cold comfortable blanket.

We were in Vancouver,Canada about twelve years ago.I was merely in Primary School,but i remember the first time i felt the chill of a real winter,as the car doors opened and the white world invited me into their cold arms.I remember the front lawn of my aunt's house in Vancouver,with a mini-snowman sitting at the front with the rest of the street covered in the same white.There was hardly any other colours,save for just black and white,and i remember the way the snow gathered on the seats of the swings down the street,and the way they gathered on the window sills and on the steps leading up to the front door.

I forgot the name of the mountain we went to,but it was supposedly a famous skiing spot for the locals and the tourists.Over a frozen river the car drove,through a metal bridge decorated with a pair of iron lions on each end of it,we drove past rows and rows of dead maple trees,and took a cable car all the way up to the top of the mountain.That was the first time i saw snow,the way they should be as they stretch out all the way into the horizon.Real Christmas trees dotted the landscape,white fluffy snow gathered on each arms of the trees and surrounding them a red barrier that divided the tourist-allowed area and the wild.They even had signs around that said "Beware of Bears".I remember staring for so long in between the trunks of the trees for any signs of a moving brown mass that my eyes stung from the cold.

Now that i think of it,snow is over-rated.I mean,as rare as they are,they are nothing more than shredded ice really.The only difference between them is that in Singapore,the maximum quantity you get with shredded ice is probably limited to the size of the bowl,but in Canada,they comes in mountains and states and the whole bloody country.They felt like rain as they melt on your coats and jackets,and if you walk through the snow long enough you'd be drenched throughout.But still,it was nice just to dig holes in the ground and dump snowballs on one another.Like India,an experience worthy of remembrance,but a repeated one is not exactly desired.

So now i am stuck with what i have in Taiwan,with occasional snow in the higher peaks but never the city.Instead of snowfall i have only the cold winds and the rain falling in waves all around.The dog is wearing a little sweater that says 'Supper Star' now,and i am wrapped in thick clothings desperate for a hot bowl of beef noodles.Or just the back of her against my chest,holding hands and falling sleep.Yeah,that's probably what i need right now.Anything warm,anything you.

I've been dreaming of a snowed-in.You know,how in other countries they declare that school is out if it snowed too heavily over the night,and the way morning would seem like night when the snow is too thick for the sunlight to filter through.When you have difficulty to open the front door and to walk through the yard.The way you sink knee-deep into the layer of white foam,and running back into the house because it is too damn cold,but a smile on your face because school's out.

*

'Hey,it snowed in.Guess we are trapped here.'

'Yeah,i guess we are.Come back to bed?'

'Can we afford to?'

'We have the time.We have the time.'

'But it will stop snowing soon.'

'Then what are you waiting for?Let's enjoy it.'

Vacation/Obligation

I remember the last days of my stay in Taiwan when i was a kid,unwilling to fall asleep on the last night and unwilling to wake up the next morning,if i fall asleep at all.I had so much fun back then,the way nothing mattered because it was the school holidays.I didnt even care about the assignments given by the English teachers,especially the cursive writing ones because i thought they were pointless,and R&R in Taiwan absolutely preceeded over those mundane tasks.Coming back here back then was such a vacation,in its most true and elemental form.

But nowadays it has become more of an obligation than a vacation.I mean,sure back then i had obligations as well.Meeting relatives being the most part of it,i hated those obligations to fulfill before i have my own fun.It's nothing to do with meeting them really,but the fact that they are such surface-deep individuals just make me sick to the stomach at times.They are not the most welcoming bunch of people in my opinion,with the majority of my father's family into the same oil business.Sure they are filthy rich people,appearing in Taiwanese financial magazines and stuff,with my father's big brother actually worthy of twenty billion dollars.But i never liked their company,never liked their standard between-relatives type questions.They just feel forced as if all of them had a template handed to them or something.

It is made worse by the fact that my grandparents' birthdays fall on the December period - my school holiday period.That's the biggest gathering of such skin-deep relatives in the whole year ever,and i always remember the heavy feeling in my chest whenever the car pulls up in front of some grand,fancy hotel or five-star hotel for the dinner.I always tried to put on a mildly interested face as i burst through the double doors,with my mother constantly nudging me at my side,reminding me to be nice,to be nice,to be nice.But that determination shatters five minutes into the dinner every single time,enclosing myself within myself,plugging the iPod into my ears and mouthed the lyrics to a random song,any song.Who the hell listens to an iPod on a dinner party with your relatives?Yours,truly.

You know how those relatives come up to you when you are alone in the corner and asks you stupid questions?Mine does that all the time,with generic questions so dumb i feel like kicking them in the toodles and be done with it.From my age to my height,from my academic achievements to the duration of my stay in Taiwan.Let's face it,none of them are truly interested in knowing anything about me,and i am being totally honest here when i tell you that i have no interest in answering you whatsoever.But because of my parents,i had to.How nice of you to ask how old i am - though i know you couldnt care less - but you might as well ask me about my sexual orientation.At least that couldve brought up some very interesting discussions over the table,or are you money-filled minds too numbed to discuss anything more than cold hard cash?

The vacation aspect of it is almost gone now.It used to be visiting old friends,doing shopping and eating nonstop at street corners.That was the highlight of the trip last time.But right now,with my old friends drifting slowly away in their old lives and the price hikes everywhere,i find no reason to visit Taiwan most of the time.I just miss the food too much to remain in Singapore forever.Personally,i remember telling my mother just how little things i can do in Taiwan,how limited my activities are.Not that i lack imagination,but really because i have all that i need in Singapore.

I miss those days when i used to cry at the airport,unwilling to go knowing that the next time im coming back would be half a year,or even a year from my departure.But the last two trips have been shortlived,and i dont even care too much about it.I'm back here for the food,the little aspect of the vacation i am still trying to save,trying to hide - hiding from the ongoing consumption of Mr. Obligation's hunger.I guess now that i am older,i just have this raging desperation to see more parts of the world i have yet to see,and not the country i've grown so unfamiliar with and so used to altogether.It's strange isnt it?I have no idea why i am feeling this way,to long and not want to stay for too long.It's wrong,isnt it?

--- Renee Duvall

Barney the Dinosaur

Everybody loves Barney the Dinosaur,at least the children at my age.Everybody loved the purple dinosaur,with a permanent smile on it's face and singing without moving it's mouth,always of rainbows and butterflies.Kids loved him,but i loathed that dinosaur,i hated him.Don't get me wrong,i love dinosaurs.I loved dinosaurs with a burning passion,knowing all the names and memorizing all the spellings.Hell,i was doing better at learning the spelling of "Sugiyamasaurus",than say the spelling of "Congratulation".I had more dinosaurs action figure than any living child back when i was a kid myself,so dont even doubt my love for those giant lizards.

What made me hate Barney really was this incident that happened on one of my shopping trips to Yohan,or better known as Thomson Shopping Centre nowadays,when a whole row of Barneys started singing at the same time,for a reason i am still unaware of.The point is,i remember freaking out in that toy section and swore never to visit it,or touch any Barney related merchandises.As i grew up,the fear of it was of course diminished,but i still hated Barney the Dinosaur as much as say,the Teletubbies.Okay,maybe not ever half as bad,but to be in the same league as those dildo wearing aliens is not something anybody should be very proud of.Anyway,that hatred sort of followed me through my life,but was drastically changed when i got into Secondary School and met my friend Barnabas.

I remember Barnabas as the bald guy at the back of the class.He never spoke up in class very often,but usually just hanging around friends in a corner,talking softly.But because my good friend Samuel sat right in front of him,i hung around his table a lot.He always kept to himself,and talks when talked to.He was never classified under any ordinary category,a class of his own.His talents were only revealed to me later on in my friendship with him,which came as a surprise to me of course.With his quiet nature it was hard to imagine him being a hard rocking guitarist,but he is and a really good one at that.

So we got to know each other better,and his hair grew longer and longer.I remember being overwhelmed by his knowledge on guitars,and of course his heroes and influences.He loves Yngwie Malmsteen,and i remember him showing me a video of him at his warehouse-like home.I blogged about it in my old blog,and how his then crazy brother had a stitch in his stomach because we found a strand of hair on the floor that mightve belonged to Barnabas' armpits.

Barbabas is a man with a whole lot of talents.His musical talents is beyond words,and the only way i can give it justice is to tell you guys how many instruments he knows how to play.Let's see now: Guitar,Electric Guitar,Piano,Keyboards,Drums,Harmonica,Trumpet...and perhaps a little bit of violin.Yeah,you get the point.He can probably tell you a whole history off electric guitars given the brand.He's like a living encyclopedia of music,really amazing person.The only downside though,is that he can never sing properly.If one day he decides to be at some random MRT station to play a roadside gig with a opened guitar case before him,people will probably pay him not because his guitaring skills are good but because his singing sucks,and that people pays him for him to stop singing.It is quite bad,but then again he is taking lessons to improve it.

He has a talent that nobody knows as well.And that is,to read handwritings.There was this once when he visited Samuel's class in my school to get something from him.But he ended up getting the handwriting of all the girls from class just to read their personalities.He's capable of that,telling you about how sexually deprived you are,or how determined you are in a relationship simply by looking at the curves and the hooks in the way you write certain letters or sentences.It is amazing,and i remember writing some random passages for him almost five years ago.

So this entry is a little tribute to my great friend Barney,or Barnabas.The anagram of his name is actually "Grab Banana",and the only two chinese words he knows are his own name.But then again,that is not going to prevent him from attaining the "Mr. Nice Guy" status.Because he truly is,and to all the single-ladies out there,Barney is the man you should be looking for.

PS. He is not purple.

Light Bulb Man

It was a cold night,i remember.It was colder than usual,and i had my arms tucked inside my Coldplay t-shirt,as i sat at the playground downstairs with her,unwilling to go and unwilling to stay.It was a couple of days before Christmas,and already the Christmas spirit was already in the air.The lights wrapped the barks of the trees lining the roads,the residences of my estate rising up from three directions all around us,soft murmurs of gatherings and television all around.The peace of Christmas is here...

The inspiration of this entry came in a pair,as they paced the circumference of the playground where i was at.With a torchlight in their hands,chattering in soft rhythms,i almost felt sorry for them and their occupations.The way their white uniforms disappeared into the gloom of the coconut trees all around reminded me of the way,a similar security guard disappeared into the crowd of commuters at Dhoby Ghaut MRT only days earlier.They were all so enthusiastic about their dead end job,still undaunted by the rising brick wall before their path.Or perhaps they are unwilling to realise the fact that their jobs werent going to get them anywhere?It was hard to say,but it saddened me a little how there are so many people stuck with such occupations.

The worst thing is how somebody has to do that kind of job,and not to have robots or something replace them.Somebody has to do the security checks around the condominium.Somebody has to wash the dried urine from the tiles in the public toilet.Somebody has to sweep up vomit from the dance floor in pubs,and somebody has to clear the blockage in a public drain.Somebody,always somebody.It saddens me that it takes people like them to do it,people with real enthusiasim.But who else?Who else?

There was a book that i briefly flipped through before.It was a book about the worst jobs in the world,and one of them was actually the light bulb man.Of course,it wasnt the name given to him,just how i labelled him as.It's not exactly the worst job in the world of course,but if you have some problems with going togreat heights - literally - in an occupation,you should think twice about this one despite the salary.

The light bulb man deals with the blinking lights on top of all skyscrapers.You know,when you look out into the horizon and see the decoration of man-made stars?Those were all fixed by a dedicated group of people,the light bulb changing ones.There was a picture taken from the top of the Empire State Building,a bird's eye view with the rest of New York falling away four hundred metres below.At the pinnacle of the building hangs a man with a leather strap around his waist.That is the light bulb man,the man in charge of changing the light bulb at the top of the building when it blows,since every light bulb does.The importance of such an occupation is great,because of the nature of the light bulbs.They tell low flying aircrafts where the top of the skyscrapers are.So the light bulb man has a important and highly dangerous job nobody knows about.Not just the danger,but how fucked up it is.

There is another occupation that i read in the FHM magazine that is both interesting and screwed up.Of course,from such a men's magazine,you should expect the article to stay close to its roots: Sex.

America is actually the biggest porn industry in the world,with Japan following swiftly behind.And during all movie shoots,like any other movie shoots,it takes time for the technicians to prepare the set.The lighting,the cameras and a lot of other aspects.So in between shoots,the actors and actresses cannot stay excited forever.I mean,you cannot expect them to be excited when your partner is merely pretending for the camera and the perverted uncles out there in front of their computers,armed with Kleenex and lubricants.So there is a job on the set,and the job is to excite the actors and actresses.The means,i'm not going to go into detail as i am sure the readers have enough imaginations to conjure up sinful thoughts.But there you go,another screwed up job.

I'm not saying that i might wind up with such a job,as there arent a lot of skyscrapers in Singapore,and a lot of pornstars(In Singapore they are usually home-made,and a very private industry).But looking at the security guards,pacing the perimeters of the estate,i feared for my own future,my place in the society.I mean,there are only so many 'okay' occupations for me out there,and everything else is the unwanted,the dirty and the truly undesired.

I remember i was in camp one day,having the exact same thoughts as i am having now.I was thinking about the nature of my future career then,and how it is going to affect me as a person if i turns out the most undesirable way.I am hoping of course,to have a job that's going to challenge me as a person,and not have it dominate my life with utter boredom.You know,like the average office worker,waking up,go to work,back from work,fall to sleep.Repeat process,endlessly till the day you retire or die.I wouldnt want that,wouldnt want that at all.

I want a job,and the rules is that it doesnt have any rules.Like a free-lance writer,or a author of a book,a columnist.My father asked me before,if i am interested to tour China with him on his business trips.But i wasnt interested in his money making oil business at all.Sure,he attempted and tried to convince me that the artistry route is a tough one,and that in terms of the monetary profit it is only going to be this much if you are not particularly exceptional or different from anyone else.But i guess for me,like any other trips i take overseas,it is never the monetary profit but the spirital and mental satisfaction i obtain.It is never about how much cheaper the goods are in this country as compared to the one i came from,or how a certain shopping mall here is having a year-end sale,slicing the prices down to a fifty percent.For me,it has always been the sights and the sounds,and the scenary and the beauty.

I guess what i want to say is that,i wouldnt want to end up like a light bulb man and think that it is okay for me to be in that job.I truly believe that i am made for something so much more than filling up the job nobody wants.Isnt it sad,o acknowledge that fact and at the same time,accept it as your fate and life?I dont know,as much as i dont expect myself to be changing light bulbs on top of the OUB building anytime soon,i wouldnt want - like i said - to be in a job like any other crap jobs.Even if the route as a writer - a writer of any kind - might be tough and rough,i guess the satisfaction derives from the challenges involved,unlike the patrol routines they have as security guards.What's the worst that could happen?Think about it,then think about you in that white and black uniform,black shiny leather shoes,and doing that your whole bloody life.

It is frightening,at least for me.

Blindfold and Blackmail

I dont remember me ever looking forward to any Christmas of any year,for the past nineteen years.Nothing special ever happened,nothing memorable.It's not like i am being pessimistic or whatever,but i was merely protecting myself from the downfall of expectations.You know how it is,when one has a certain level of expectation,you fall the hardest when it is not met.So i never had any hopes for Christmas,birthdays,New Years etc.Never.It's a sort of automatical self-defensive system inside my body working up,i'm just not built to enjoy myself,or have any expectations for holiday seasons.Go back a few months to an entry i typed somewhere in January titled 'Festive Bullshit'.You'd know what i mean.

So this year was no different,initially.The decorations were up on Orchard by mid November,and employees of almost every single shop in town was forced to wear Christmas caps,with a white furry ball at the very tip.Christmas songs and carols ruled the speakers lined along the streets,crazy women nudging their way through the crowd at year-end Christmas sales and not to forget the poor Caucasian man dressed as Santa,pretending to be having a blast giving out chocolates and vouchers,when in actual fact he is subliming inside the suit,under the blazing hot sun.But of course,that is if the sun exist at all in the first place.This year's holiday season was greeted with a whole army of storms,rain and wind.So in the place of snow we had a whole bunch of rain,flooding the streets of Singapore all the way to Johor Baru.Great,now instead of snow-skiing we can water-ski,and instead of reindeers we should steal some sea lions from the zoo to drag out sampans.

As you might already have guessed,i have a rather pessimistic outlook on Christmas.Look a couple of entries down this current one,the entry 'Sad Christmas' says it all.But you have to understand,those thoughts and that entry were the result of pre-Christmas-2006.Every one of those thoughts occured before the 25th of this year,which means that they do not stand for ME any longer.You might ask why the sudden change of perspective on Christmas?That is because i just had the most beautiful Christmas ever...with the most special person whom i call,the love to call my own.

Christmas morning was like no other.There was no Christmas tree in my house,with glittering boxes covered in beautiful wrapping paper waiting for me.It was the same old house,same old weather and same old...well,almost everything.My father woke me up,with his big face filling up the whole of my narrowed vision of the morning,grinning and greeting.They were leaving for the airport,going for Taiwan a day before myself.It was all planned,as i secretly undertook the steps to my grand surprise at the end of the day.I didnt tell them what i was going to do while they are away,but i guess as long as i dont destroy the house,or miss the plane i should do fine with whatever i want.

*

I've never been to Raffles' Hotel before,to be honest.Sure,the gravel driveway and the famous doorman with the turban and the feather.But to be inside the hotel itself was something i experienced for the first time on Christmas Day.To say that it was Christmas mustve been the understatement of the year,somewhat.I mean,it was hot as hell and the population of the hotel was so sparse.It was as if by 12nn,the residence were still very much asleep,tired from yesterday night's partying,perhaps.

I was lost amidst the corridors and the gardens inside the hotel,while at the same time ogling at the serenity of this oasis in the middle of the bustling town.Over the round speakers mounted into the ceilings of the corridors,the soft sound of children singing Christmas carols filled the empty hallways,and i wonder if i was in the wrong place for her choir's carolling sessions.But of course,the lot of them came out of the Lady Sophia's Suite soon after i arrived at the venue and lined up in two neat rows.The men were in neat black suits with red ties while the ladies were in white gowns.They looked beautiful,especially my beau with her newly trimmed hair falling on the plain white gown.She looked small next to her friend RuiQi,but was especially outstanding to me as i watched her perform for the first time.

So there were four sessions,and they went for only three.They were great,with the lot of them coming together in the main lobby for the last hoorah.It was thunderous,the way the voices resonated around the cold marble walls and floors of the lobby and into the hearts of the people that filled the place.The applause was overwhelming at the end as well,as they ladies gracefully glided across the carpet and out of the glass doors.I'm not a fan of choral music,or Christmas songs for that matter.But i do know at least,what the difference is between a good singing and a bad one.That definitely was something awesome,something staggering in itself worthy of remembrance.

*

The wind was soft in our faces,with the wind chime singing it's music on the second floor of a neighbour i know not of.The tarmac road was still moist to the afternoon's drizzle,and it crunched under our shoes as we made our way to the void deck under my house.

It was a strange feeling to get into my own house,knowing that from now till the next morning,nobody is ever going to disturb us whatsoever.We were the ruler of the house,the owner of this small confined world of ours.And it was as if,as long as we stayed within the walls of the house,we'd be safe.It was still too early for the surprise and besides,the man in the telephone did warn me about the overflowing orders of pizza during the day.

It finally came twenty minutes after eight.The tables were set,the candles awaited.The sound of Sufjan Stevens' bango-playing surged through the empty livingroom as i led her out towards the balcony,with one hand blindfolding her eyes while the other around her waist.She chuckled under her breath,and after i revealed the surprised,we embraced and kissed as the salty evening wind hinted of the coming rain in the night.Christmas is here,i thought to myself.This is Christmas,this is real.

*

The candles flickered and went out,succumbed to the force of the wind.We gave up trying to light them,and concentrated on the pizza and the other food that came along with it.She sat with her legs folded on the straw bench,the oil from the pizza all over her fingertips.The Pepsi fizzled and went out,as we ran our fingers down the list of alternative Christmas songs i especially picked and burnt.The night wore on,and the candles were left on the table,with the tips of the thread burnt and the wax still intact.But still,we stared out into the city below,with the glittering streetlights and the coming rain,feeling tiny dots of them on our faces and then turning off the lights in the balcony and the livingroom altogether.There was a perfect serenity,perfect silence right there and then,as we embraced and kissed for the millionth time that night,never enough for it is always one time little,one time too short.

It finally fell,like the tears of a saddened heart pretending to be strong after a hug.The sky was purple for some reason,and we admired it from the cover of darkness from my balcony,cuddled in the corner of the straw bench with me,talking deep into the night.It was just us against the world,so careless and so beautiful...

Okay,there are so many things that happened,things that are pulling the strings hooked to the either corners of my mouth,tugging them upwards.So i am just going to say everything in one paragraph.Breathe,and here goes.

I loved the way you walked out in a single-file and waved at me with your palms below your waist.I loved the way you took careful glances at me while singing in a crowd.I loved the way your hair fell on your white gown,fitting so well and standing way out.I loved the way you came out of the practising room and walked towards me with those slow steps.I loved the way your hair fluttered as we ran across the busy road.I loved the way your cheeks rolled as your chewed on your Cheeseburger.I loved the way you held my hand all along as we ran together.I loved the way you sang softly to yourself as your juniors did so without you.I loved the way your mouth spred opened into a smile after you poked me awake at the cafe.I loved the way you disappeared into the crowd during the last session,but your presence always being there with me.

I loved the way you took small steps out of the lobbey,following the girl in front.I loved the way you placed your head on my shoulder in the train as it sped down the tracks through the dark tunnels.I loved the way your hair tickled my neck as we talked and talked and talked.I loved the way the security guard stared at us when we walked through the entrance hand in hand.I loved the way you entered the empty house of mine and said,"I am home!".

I loved the way you jumped onto my bed and threatened to take over my room.I loved the way the blue light from the monitor shone on your face as i entered the room.I loved the way the guitar was too big for you,but you played it anyway.I loved the way you tried to strum to A Rush of Blood to the Head,but tried you very best at it.I loved the way i felt your pulse from your top as i placed my hand on your body.I loved the way you chuckled under your breath with anticipation as i led you through the livingroom towards the balcony.I loved the way you said nothing after seeing the candles and kissed me.I loved the way you ate the chicken wing all so carefully.

I loved the way we sat in the quiet livingroom,without saying a word and talking at the same time.I loved the way your wet hair fell on your bare shoulders after the hot bath.I loved the way your eyes were blood shot after the shampoo came down.I loved the way you wore your red glasses,with the wet hair falling over the lenses.I loved the way that shirt was way too big for your body.I loved the way the top covered 3/4 of your shorts.I loved the way we cuddled as we watched the movie deep into the night.I loved the way you sipped your water carefully from the pink cup i handed you.

I loved the way we walked through the dark house together as if we owned the place.I loved the way our footsteps echoed down the corridors,the sound dominating over all else.I loved the way we were in the wrong direction in bed and we didnt care.I loved the way the rain fell and we went back to the balcony.I loved the way you took over half the bed and forced me to the edge.I loved the way you checked the time with me all of a sudden,and i loved the way you took out that black mail as a surprise.I loved the way i couldnt give my thanks,and i loved the way in return,you spoke no words at all.I loved the way i ran my fingers over the glitter,and i loved the way you didnt want me to read it right there and then.I loved the way we fell asleep into each others' arms,and i loved the way i still held your hand when we finally did fall asleep.

I loved the way i woke up to your warmth.I loved the way your hands rubbed mine in the morning chill.I loved the way you wanted to sleep somemore in the morning,and i loved the way you smiled to the breakfast i made.I loved the way you waited on the bed for me as i prepared my luggages,and i loved the way you played with the big yellow fish in the tank.I loved the way we waited for the taxi in the rain,and i loved the way we held hands quietly in the backseat.I loved the way,as the taxi turned into the road in front of your house,our hands tightened naturally.I loved the way your face looked through the rain distorted window of the car,and i loved the way your figured disappeared under your block...into the rain.

I loved so many aspects about you on this special Christmas Day,i swear i had to edit half the actual amount i typed just to fit everything into the blog.But one thing is for sure,that thanks to you my Christmas was wholly complete.Thanks for risking your neck by asking your mother,whatever you asked.Thanks for the surprise,thanks for the time and the warmth,and thanks for just...being there on this Christmas,the most special one in my twenty years of life.

May there be ever more Christmas to look forward to,in the years to come for us,love.The card i read in the taxi had me tearing with joy,to be honest.I never felt that way before,and in the cab that afternoon i surely did...You are the only person who can make me feel this way and that,and feel totally comforted and safe all at the same time.Even though i am thousands of miles away from you right now,all i want to tell you is that despite the distance,you are with me still.And that from the bottom of my wrecked heart,beneath the words i failed to utter and the ones that were and failed...

I love you.

*

Silent night
Cloudy night
In my bed,
By my side

In the dark they sparkle so bright
Your eyes they glittered, kiss me goodnight
I can't help that I'm smiling to sleep
Join me my heavenly queen.

Tracing Tracks

I was standing on the exact same spot 364 days ago.It was my first time out of the country after i was enlisted two years ago.It felt good,to be at the airport: The gates to the rest of the world.So you can imagine how excited i was with the red passport in my bag,the coffee bean ice-blend in one hand,and a heart full of longing.Longing for freedom - even if it was for a mere week,longing for the food back home,longing for the familiar smell of my childhood.I still have the picture in my computer,of my back facing the camera,standing on the carpet at the end of the movable walkway with the orchid pattern.I was there today,with a totally different longing altogether.

First and foremost,greetings to all from Taiwan.The temperature seems to be just right for me,though my aunt seems to be complaining as i type about the amount of fabric i have on my body.But anyway,the dog is standing on its hind legs,swinging a pink pillow in its mouth and being ignored by every human in the house.I am home,i thought to myself,no matter how much i think it's an obligation to come back to Taiwan.I am home,and that's all that matters.

The road to the airport was a stormy one - literally.The cab driver was casual about it,speeding down the expressway and between cars while whistling a random tune.I wonder if this storm is going to last like the last one,flooding the rest of the country like the last one did.It's not like it matters to me directly,since i was already on my way out of the country.But i had a rock on my heart,the weigh making an imaginary depression somewhere in my chest,sucking the life out of me as the sound of the rain roared through the glass doors of the departure hall.

I love the feeling of traveling alone,to do what you will,as you will.Going to the toilet without the need of informing anybody.And the airport is a brilliant place to just wander aimlessly sometimes,because the starting point of an adventure is always both scary and exciting in the most mysterious way.Sure,i've been back to Taiwan for a dozen times,but every time seems like the last time,the novelty never wears away.

At the viewing gallery i sat alone,as the NFL match between New York Jets and the Miami Dolphins went on on the other side of the globe.The words i read in the black envelope resonating through my head,overwhelming the commentary of the football match.I smiled like an idiot before other fellow visitors of the airport,ignoring the possibility of them calling airport security.Because i've been doing so for the past twelve hours or so,at the mere though of the black mail and the content...I smiled,because within that envelope is a lovely surprise,literally.

I saw as the rain fel against the giant windows at the viewing gallery,the splatter of the rain with occasional thunders hinting the peak of the December rainy period.It was beautiful there,just waiting for time to past with music in my ears,saying goodbye to my friends over SMSs.My first real trip alone out of the country as a free man,especially special after the 9th of December.I traced my footsteps from the last time i walked the carpets of the airport as a free man all the way to the ones i was making then.I've come a long way,i thought.And that gave me more reasons to smile like an idiot.

On the plane,ten minutes before take off.The rain continued to fall,the flight was delayed for half an hour or so.It was strange,to be traveling as a free man,alone on the airplane,away from anybody i know with a promising holiday ahead of me,and feel at the same time,weird.Unlike a year before,there is a different sort of longing now.The longing to dash out of the airplane and take bus 53 back to the nearest warmth in the rain,back to you.But nonetheless,i am going to enjoy myself here with the letter in my bag.Because i know,with a bit of you with me on the way,i can feel so much better,so safe.

So at the end of this trip,dont you worry at all.I am going to trace my tracks,all the way back you all 7000 miles away.

Sad Christmas

Silent night, broken night
All is fallen when you take your flight
I found some hate for you
Just for show
You found some love for me
Thinking I'd go
Don't keep me from crying to sleep
Sleep in heavenly peace

There's something about the Christmas season that i dislike.Sure,you see happy shoppers on Orchard Road bearing down the sidewalk with their arms barely enough for the handles and straps of the shopping bags they are carrying.You see an employee of a shopping mall dressed up as Santa Claus,throwing candies into hordes of children in the middle of a conscourse,hiding their anguish and hate for the job behind the fake white beard.You hear those repetitive Christmas songs being played everywhere on speakers,hearing the jingle of the bells and the reindeer songs,with the sun hanging up in the sky,buring a hole into the back of your top.Yeah,that's the typical Christmas in Singapore,and the problem with it for me is this: People are too happy.

Okay,this is just the pessimistic bastard inside of me speaking,but i guess we've never really embraced Christmas from a different perspective.Let's admit it,as much as Christmas is about shopping and sales,it is the season where materialism is king.Everybody turns into this materialistic,discount hungry maniac at shopping malls,running their fingers through piles of discounted clothes and then nudging the 'cpmpetitors' aside just so that he or she gets squeezed out of the fellow crowd of shopping maniacs.I think Christmas is ugly now,in our age where the true spirit of Christmas is forgotten.Especially with the rain unleashing its power over the city these days instead of cold fluffy snow,Singaporean-type Christmas is especially hideous.

Of course,there are the small minority of people trying to put the Christmas back into people's books.They are usually the evangelists from churches,especially the richer ones,trying to save the world every Christmas by asking more people to go to their churches.I was asked this year,like any other year of course.But due to my agnostic beliefs,i declined their offers.But anyway,as much as i am agnostic,i do appreciate those Christians' efforts to be happy and jolly this holiday season,to try to divert people's attentions away from the materialistic needs.

While i took a taxi home from an unknown hotel on Monday night after my trip from Malaysia,it was pouring cats and dogs outside of the taxi window.Like i mentioned before,i dont remember such a downpour in recent days,and that night just so happened to be the night before the heaviest rain to fall in Singapore in the past 75 years.But anyway,so there i was turning into the road that leads to the entrance of my estate when i saw a whole bunch of those fancy cars you see during Chingay,with nice Christmas lights decorated and plastic statues of Mary Magdelene,a whole bunch of sheeps and fake Christmas trees.A bunch of people were standing around the cars,and there were about five or six of those,lined up one after another with a whole bunch of traffic police at the front of them.The people were dressed in white angelic robes,even the men.They were waving at the passing cars and the passengers inside,apparently trying to spread the Christmas spirit amongst the Christians and the non-Christians.They were members from a church as i later found out,but what was hilarious to me was the fact that they were pretending to be happy and jolly,in the rain with their angelic robes drenched from head to toe.As much as i appreciated their efforts,they shouldve had a wet weather program i thought.Because obviously nobody gave a shit about their Tour de Singapura.

I'd like to see a Christmas one year when everybody thinks back at all the tragedies that happened in the past year and lament over them.I'd dearly like to see that,and i say stop all the shopping and all the sales.We can always do that after the new year.I'd like to see a genuinely sad Christmas one year,with no golden Christmas lights or happy smiling Santa Claus.The reindeers will be sad,pissed off for pulling the sledge for so many years,and there wont be toys for the children.Okay,i sounded like Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas,or the Grinch from How The Grinch Stole Christmas.But what the hell,i can see their intentions now.Christmas is just too happy,for some reason.

Like any other special occasions,be it Birthdays or New Years,i seem to have been cultivated to be slightly dissatisfied,mildly unhappy about them.I cannot care less for each of those days,even my own birthday.I think it is because my family never really bothered to celebrate those days for me or with me,and over the years i have learned to not care about that sad fact.I've learned that i shouldnt take my birthday for granted,that presents are presents.They dont need a day to be presented.You can argue that i actually got Josephine for Christmas two years ago,but that was more like a since-you-are-going-to-NS-let's-buy-you-a-guitar-and-call-it-a-christmas-present thing.The truth still remains as it is,my family doesnt celebrate any special occasions,sad but true.

So i wonder how this year's Christmas is going to be like,with my parents leaving for Taiwan on Christmas day while i will be home alone,or watching my beau's caroling at some hotel in town.But this is the first Christmas after my attachment,my first attachment.I wonder how it is going to be different from all the other Christmas.Sure,i stand by the fact that i still await the day of a sad Christmas with vulgarity spurting Santa and killer dwarves.But amidst those,i still wish to treasure the warmth,the fuzzy feeling of being close to somebody.Yeah,i'd like that.

Silent night, moonlit night
Nothing's changed
Nothing is right
I should be stronger than weeping alone
You should be weaker than sending me home
I can't stop you fighting to sleep
Sleep in heavenly peace

King Of The World

For the record,i am feeling okay now.There is this weird,numb feeling in my stomach and a sore throat that doesnt exactly feel like a sore throat,but i shall live through the day without a scratch or worry,though the occasion coughs are getting on my nerves.I guess i've been sick for too long and too often when i was younger to see this as too big a deal.Which is not a good thing i know,to see anything wrong with your body as being just a temporary mistake.But what the hell,im the kind of person who lives for the moment when it comes to health issues,and if i dont feel like plunging myself from the 19th floor because of a bad cough,i guess it's going to be fine after a packet of Strepsils.

Like i mentioned,i woke up this morning at 530am and remained that way all the way till almost 9am.I just didnt want to go to sleep,because whenever i tried lying down,the feeling came surging back towards the top of my throat.But i'd rather puke everything out like a bad hangover though,at least i know it'll be over once the regurgitation seizes.But nonetheless,i spent the time collecting the morning paper from the front gate and spent the whole dawning hours of the day on my Josephine.It was refreshing to wake up at this hour,and that reminded me of the good old days when we used to be forced to wake up at this lovely hour of the morning to go for breakfast.Sometimes even earlier than that,because of live firings or outfields.Those were the days,and the days are gone.I almost forgot how peaceful the wee hours of the morning is,the way everybody is asleep,visiting dreamlands and careless of the world.Somewhere in Singapore a bunch of bald-headed recruits are waking up to the screaming of their sergeants,fast-food joints are opening for the day's business and the bakeries are opened as well,preparing nice warm rolls and breads.Everybody else is asleep,just me and the working ants,the hardworking people,the lunatics.

So i kept playing every song i know on Josephine in my room and in the dining room,with the dark skies slowly turning into a shade of blue and then white.The sound of the traffic growing with the dawning of the day,and the only constant right then was the playing of my guitar.I didnt stop at all,just went on and on without thinking much about the next song.And it felt good,to be like some sort of robot for just that moment,to do something without thinking much about it.I guess we are just too tired sometimes,exhausted at the thinking process.Besides,it was 6am,give me a break.

I remember being all excited when i was a kid,if i was able to wake up before my parents.You know how parents are,they are always the early birds,waking up for a cup of coffee at the balcony at 8am while the rest of the family enjoyed their private moments of slumber.My dad will be watching the morning news or the golf,and my mother would be making breakfast or washing the clothes.Basically,at that time of the morning their days start,and i used to roam the house alone back then and get a kick out of it if i woke up earlier than everybody else.It felt like such an achievement back then,such a triumph.

My chinese teacher used to say,"The early bird gets the worm.But nobody ever considered that the early worm gets eaten".I've lived with that philosophy for a long time,so you can imagine how rare it is for me to roam the house and collect the papers.Almost never,in actual fact.I would ran to the balcony and smell the morning air,with my Primary School in the distance glistering in the sun,and the sunlight reflecting off the surfaces of passing cars down below.I love the morning sun,it never scorches or burn.It's warm,unlike the afternoon ones,and i rejoiced as i danced on the balcony like a stupid idiot.

Today,that childish feeling overwhelmed me.But of course,i passed on the dancing part.I merely stood on the balcony and looked out into the city below,with a weird stomach and a bad throat,i coughed and coughed into the wind.I felt like the king of the world,like Aslan when he first created the world of Narnia,and the world awakes slowly to the rising of the sun.Of course,in the books Aslan is supposed to represent Jesus,and i am in no position to compare myself to him.But hey,i guess in a way,there was a sort of strange satisfaction involved in watching the world begin before your eyes,as if you had control over everything else.Besides,watching it from 19 floors up from the ground floor is quite an experience,if look with renewed eyes and childish wonders.

Regurgitation

It is now 5.52am,and the world is just waking up from their slumbers.The beginning of the beginning,with the buses rumbling down the road in front of my estate,minding it's own business and carrying passengers who minded their own businesses too.The sky has yet to brighten,but all around the world is waking up slowly to a brand new working day.

So here i am in front of the computer at eight minutes to 6am,with a plastic bag within my arm's reach and the fan blasting against the back of my head about five metres away.You might wonder what the hell i am doing here at this hour,with that plastic bag in front of me,blogging at the same time.I have to blame it on one word tonight,or rather this morning: Regurgitate.

It's not that i did,but i woke up at 530am just now feeling something tumbling in my stomach.It mustve been the aftermath of yesterday's episode with the gastric,which threatened to suck the life of me towards the center of my body.It was excruciating,just sitting in the toilet and groaning the whole of yesterday afternoon away with a hot waterbag placed between my t-shirt and stomach.The feeling that something is coming out is lingering on the brink of my throat,that familiar feeling people might associate with sea or motion sickness.It mightve been the supper i ate about three hours ago,or it might be anything.I have no idea,but the feeling scared me,as i swung my legs off the side of my bed and felt cold sweat all over.What is happening to me?What is happening to me?

I woke my mother up,and she fixed some pills for me.I dont know why,i couldve done all those myself but i didnt.I guess i just needed her assurance that it is merely the problem of the stomach and not anything else.But the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night with a bulk of air rolling about in your body is rather scary.So i am staying awake now,just in case anything happens.I wouldnt want to throw up all over my bed,or anywhere in my room either.Im just waiting patiently,at least for the feeling to subside.I fear for myself,and more for tomorrow's date with her.Can i make it?How am i supposed to tell her what happened when i have not a clue what is wrong with me?Maybe i am just being over sensitive,but like everything else you cant be too careful i guess.But i hate this feeling,though being up at 6am and watching the world wake up is a rather unique experience by itself.

I am praying for the feeling to go away so that i can sleep better.I wish dearly that by the time i wake up later in the morning,i'll be fine and fit enough to go out with her.But for now,the dreadful wait for something to happen,even if it means i have to fill up bags after bags of regurgitation...

Oh,the world is waking up.Look at the cars on the road,the lights in the streets and the sound of the traffic from far off.Thinking back,about two months ago from today,i was on the phone with a special person late into the night until now.Yeah,we talked on the phone till 6.20am,i remember.I never noticed the scenary outside the window then,since i confined myself to the area between my head and the cocoon-like blanket.The only feeling right now that i hope will last,the nostalgia that comes with the timing of the day,and not the threat of hurling whatever i ate or drank in the past twelve hours on the floor and everywhere else...

This feels like shit.

A Frightful Projection

This is a frightful projection.

In a neatly tended room,on a neatly tended bed,laid a person.It is 7.14am,36 seconds till the alarm clock rings,the cue for the start of a brand new day.The light that streams through his curtains are soft,hinting not of the chaotic day that awaits the person.15 seconds till the alarm clock rings,the person stirred within his sheets to a mundane dream he probably wouldnt remember five seconds after he awakes.9 seconds till his alarm clock rings,the person's eyes open.The body clock of his is working up again,he has adjusted to the everyday routine of his,and he no longer needs the alarm clock to wake him up.2 seconds till his alarm clock sounds,and he slams down hard on the off button on top and groaned.

It was time for work,a long day awaits the person.He swung his legs over the side of the bed and felt the cool touch of the wooden flooring against the bottom of his feet.He forgot to adjust the air-conditioning again,he thought.Goosebumps formed on his skin,and he rubbed his palms over his arms as he got into the bathroom to begin his daily ritual.

Who is this person,you might ask.He asks himself the same question too,even more often these days.This person is the person who wakes up at the exact same time everyday,has a good steady job with no excitement whatsoever.He lives alone in a posh apartment on the fifth avenue,with a slick car his father bought for him as a birthday present.The black and white tiles of the bathroom floor felt cold too against the underside of his feet,a little moist due to last night's late night shower.Why was he in shower at 330am again?He couldnt recall,but instead went through the job descriptions of the day.Who is this person?Who is this person?He asked,and looked into the mirror.

I stared back at myself,with the well tended hair and the rugged look.I need a shave,i told myself.It's been a while since i did that.My mind has been drifting off into strange realms these days,i dont remember me feeling this weird on a beautiful morning such as today's.It's tough being a thirty year old,i told myself in the mirror,checking out the wrinkles at the end of my eyes and the loose skin,the eyebags.I've been lacking sleep for a while now,mom called to remind me that it is unhealthy.But i cant help it,i told myself.There are thoughts,thoughts bugging me.But what?But what?

The facial foam covered my face,then washed off by the refreshing water.Droplets trickled down my cheeks and into the white sink,as i stared at myself.Something's missing,but what is it?I was satisfied,sure i was.This is the beauty of it all isn't it?The beauty of being single,you are the boss and you are in control.The master of the house,the man of the island,the king of kings.

I pressed the remote control,and the lights from the car blinked once,twice.The car started,the engine ignited.The soft whirl of the engine came through the dashboard,and i felt the soft vibrations around me.It's too cold today,i thought to myself.But the air-conditioning was turned off,so was the one in my room just now.Strange,it must be the weather.Yeah,the weather.December days are getting more and more unpredictable these days,i better bring my umbrella along.Yeah,my umbrella.My umbrella.

*

Work was awful as usual,but i grumbled to no one but myself.Loud rock music blasted through the speakers as i waited impatiently for the idiot in front to beat the red light.I'm into louder,more angry music these days and i dont know why.I left that person behind,and i thought to myself - whatever happened to the jazz and blues?I pounded my palms against the steering wheel and cursed aloud as the idiot in front still refused to move.I horned once,i horned twice,and pointed a middle finger as i sped around the female driver.

The house felt cold for some reason,as i tossed the car keys into the tray by the door and tore off my tie.Dinner with the colleagues sucked,i should stay away from hawker food.Those thoughts bounced against the four walls,around the IKEA furnitures and the specially furnished and designed livingroom.The expensive china glittered under the lights in the kitchen,the wine glasses hung glistering on top of the banister.I took one down and fixed myself a drink,the ice rocked and rolled in the confinement of the glass as i tasted the alcohol with my tongue.

Television was switched on,and before it sat myself.Reality television,MTV,World News and more reality television.Television these days,getting from bad to worse.But there i was flipping through the channels and absorbing all the useless informations.What's wrong with me today?I thought to myself.I never thought these habits to be wrong yesterday,or the week before.Strange,today's different from other days.It must be the weather,it must be.What else can it be?

My handphone vibrated,a single message recieved.There was excitement,but why was there?Who could it be?It was Sally from work,asking me about a gathering at the Stuck Pig this weekend with the rest of the office.I refused their offer,and threw the handphone into the space between the cushion and the arm rest.The television continued to blurt out useless information,and i was seeing the shows without watching them,hearing without listening,being there and nowhere at all at the same time.

Sitting home alone on a Friday,i was flat on the bed looking back on old love - or lack thereof.I was still in my shirt and pants,with the top buttons left undone.My wishful thinkings are gone,i thought.Im jaded,and i hate it.Am i tired of being alone?Am i tired?No...No,i like being alone.I've been like this for so long...but what's wrong?Something's missing.Something is,but what is it?

The coffees tasted like hot water these days,and i counted brush strokes.Every driver pissed me off,and the red lights always felt like they purposely remain that way a second long just to spite me.The neighbour's kids are always two decibels too loud,and i am numb.Numb of life,i thought to myself.I felt like a knife used too many times and felt blunt.What happened to the person i used to know,that person i was ten years ago?I liked myself,i liked the way i was.But i like myself now as well,i love myself...I do.I really do.But why am i finding it so hard to convince myself,to make believe?

Something's amiss,something's missing.The bedsheets felt cold against my right palm as i ran my hands over the sheets.The left side of my bed weird odd,and something was off.What's with the left side of the bed,what's with this strange empty feeling in the left hand of mine?Something familiar was creeping up my left arm,a familiar warmth.It's that time of the year again,when i feel this...what's this?What's this?

I am going back to the time,i am going back to you...

*

I had a thought on the bus today,when i was heading back from your place.On the bus and all around,the late night travelers eager to head on home,the man in his tie,neatly tended hair and his black suitcase sat next to me across the aisle.He looked like he had everything going for him,with his PDA in his palms,as he poked the monitor.I can picture it now,he probably has a good job,a well paid job.He probably has a wife,from the ring around his finger.But with the hour and the time,he mustve been working overtime,overtime somewhere.He stared out of the bus window blankly,just staring with death in his eyes.There was no spirit,no passion and no soul,and he doesnt realise that his life's going down the hole he dug for himself.He doesnt see that something is missing,because something always is,something is for everybody.

I had a frightful projection right there on the bus,imagining myself ten years from now,living alone and being alone.I imagine myself going through daily routines such as the ones i mentioned,with the fancy house and the fancy car.I imagined the black and white bathroom and the image of myself,projected to ten years later in the mirror.I saw myself deteriorating before my own eyes,and not seeing it.I saw myself being worn out and worn down,and i saw myself losing the passion for life and love,the passion i used to possess,the passion i possess now.

It was a frightful projection,to know that the possibility of my life in ten year's time turning out like that is so very high.I imagined myself like that,and there was a sudden surge of fear in my chest.The threat is real,to be consumed by this mundane,institutionalized person in the future.What does the future hold for me,if not a future with you?I'd be lost,lost in the rituals of the day,being consumed by work and then more work.What do i live for,what do i look forward to?I fear for my own future,a possible future without you in my life,and at times i feel the choke and strangle it has on my throat,just thinking about it scares me.

It scares all of us,the possibility of you being 'okay' with the life without each other.Am i capable of living alone with myself,being single?Sure,with the posh house and the posh car,anything is possible with money.Money being the best distraction of all.I wont die,i wont be stuck,or handicapped.I will move on,and i will survive.But do i really want that?Do i really,truly want that?

Im not sure what i am trying to convey now,my thoughts are in a mess.I guess it is the fear of being used to the fact that you are not around in the future,when i am old and useless.I imagined a life without you around,and i imagined my life revolving around my job,my job and more jobs - the mundane and the superficialities of my life.I wouldnt want that to happen to me,to be convinced that it is fine to leave you,to live a life without you.Because ultimately i know,that one day i am going to realise that my will is not as strong as i hope it to be,that somehow everything is going to come back to you.The memories that we had and just how magical our days together have been.Have been,past tense.And i will weep,i will weep for the loss of my innocence,my passion as i tear off my expensive shirt and thrash the expensive bedroom of mine...

The thought scares me.It does,and the threat is very real.So very real.

*

Will you save me,save me from me?
Myself in the future,would you please?
Just be here for me,be with me.
Dont let the future-self consume me.

Because what would i be?
Or who would i be?
And where would i be?
If you arent here with me?

Pictorial Tour

Malaysian Trip Part III: Towers.Pyramids.Art.

When you think of Kuala Lumpur,what is the first thing that comes to your head?For some reason the song by the Malaysian tourism board pops into heard first,that female voice singing "Malaysia,truly Asia" thing,with the city's skyline in the background.The second for me would be the Petronas Towers of course,and that was where we were going by LRT on the second day of my trip to the land that is 'Truly Asia'.Well,supposedly anyway(If Asia really is like Malaysia,it's rather pathetic).

As the train rumbled to a slow stop at the KLCC station,the inside of the Petronas Towers was in itself,awe-inspiring.It was huge,and of course dotted with branded shops.Gucci,FCUK,Guess,you name it.The Christmas Tree standing in the middle of the concourse,which made the one at Takashimaya look like an ice-cream cone.But anyway,it was a great sight indeed,and i found myself - along with fellow shoppers - staring up towards the top of the tree,with our drool on the verge of spilling over the edge.

When you are in the tallest building in the world - or a building that once was - you'd want to get all the way to the top and catch the city in full glory,right?So that's what we tried to do at the ticket booth,until the lady there kindly told us that all 1300 tickets were sold out.Okay,hold on a second here.This is retarded.We are tourists to what used to be the tallest building in the world for God's sake,and the tallest building in South East Asia,and you only limit 1300 people to the top?Oh wait,not even the top.The bloody sky bridge that stretches across the two towers at the 41st floor,not even the top.How smart.This is totally retarded.

As we came back up from the ticket booth in the basement,a ocuple of caucasian tourists were complaining about the stupidity as well.Seriously,this is good money and you guys are forsaking that?How smart,and the Petrona Towers are supposed to be the economical centre of Malaysia.Whatever happened to that little money-making mind of yours?

Anyway,aside from that,we took a taxi all the way to Sunway Lagoon.I think it is a good system at times that the taxi driver doesnt use a meter.He rolls down the window and asks you about your destination.He then sets a price,and if you are in agreement with the driver,hop in.Which means no matter how long he takes to get to the destination,it is still going to be the same price.Which i thought,was a brilliant idea.

We arrived at Sunway Lagoon,with the sun hanging up in the air enough to roast a pig.We felt the sun's prickling fingers upon the back of our necks,and we soon took refuge in the shopping mall,or what they called the Sunway Pyramids.Like any other malls in Malaysia,it was huge.It ever had an ice-skating ring in the middle,which was later turned into a hockey match venue.But anyway,the problem with the malls in Malaysia is that though they are huge,they are basically replicas of one another.They arent even significantly cheaper than the goods in Singapore,which is why i admired the goods sold at the road side.Sure they are pirated stuff,but the only piracy i dont support is movie-piracy.Anything else goes,baby.

I've been having coaster-phobia for the longest time in my life.The first time i went to Disneyland and saw the rollercoaster ride,i freaked out and caused quite an uproar in the middle of the park.The Star Wars ride in Universal Studios didnt help either,since it was indoors and completely dark,i couldnt see a think that was happening at all.Taiwan was my first experience of 365 degrees loops,and i swore never to take rollercoaster rides ever again.But interestingly,the moment we bought the tickets and entered Sunway Lagoon,i had the urge to get down and dirty with the rollercoaster.Of course,the Viking was still very much out of my books,but the way the train surged along the tracks at high speed and great heights was,in a way,tempting and exciting.So the lot of us took that ride,and went screaming all the way down from the peak of a crest that was set 90 degrees downwards.That was petrifying,and i remember myself screaming my head off with Jerry the cousin.

The best ride to me was the Buffalo Bill ride.Just imagine a rollercoaster ride at a slower speed,but involving water.The first time we attempted the ride,we were rather worried at first,seeing just how drenched the previous riders were.But as the queue shorterend and our shoes neatly tucked in the corner,we were ready to take on the ride.The cart went through a series of narrow channels at first,then it went up slowly up a slope that was at a 45 degrees incline.It was the smaller of the two climb,and the second had us running down the side of the polysterene hill and into the pool of water below.We rode that twice,with JY sitting out of the second,and the guys were clever enough to take off our shirts,then lean forward so that the water that crashes into the cart from the front would surge to the back into WW's face.Sorry WW,but we had to do what we had to do.Sunway Lagoon was great,and it marked the peak of the trip really.For me,anyway.

There is a street beside the inn where we lived.Petaling Street is somewhat like a night market in Taiwan or Singapore.You can find anything cheap there,and with cheap goods come a horde of tourists and locals,shoulders against shoulders and buttocks against buttocks.It was excruciating just to squeeze pass one another in the narrow streets as the venders shouted out prices and attempts to lure tourists into their shops.But the problem really was this: Other than shoes,t-shirts,sunglasses and belts,there werent much variety to the stuff sold.Sure they were cheap,but a shoe found in this shop will probably be found in another at a cheaper price,if you are lucky enough.Jerry the cousin was kind enough to help me obtain a pair of Nike shoes at merely thirty Singapore Dollars.Fancy that.I swear,the next time i visit KL,all i am going to be are going to be shoes,shoes and more shoes from Petaling Street.

There was a man in a wheelchair towards the entrance of the night market that night,and before him a table with little pieces of art he made from wires.It ranged anything from a drum set to a saxophone,from an electric guitar to a witch sitting on her broom.It was amazing,just how much he managed to accomplish with a single wire,just bending here and there to make out the faces of the characters,or the features of a motorbike for example.I was mesmerized,just seeing him bending the wires into little keychains with the specific names or words written down on a little blue notebook by the buyers.I must say that i was immersely impressed with the man,and bought two pieces from him.One is a acoustic guitar with a stand,and it even has six strings.I cant really show you the other piece that i bought yet until after Christmas,because it is meant to be a surprise for my beau.I think this other piece is absolutely beautiful,and i bought it without a bit of hesitation.

Before leaving the street and the man in the wheelchair,i asked for the man's hand to be shook by me.He reached out and we shook hands right there,because i really respected what the man was doing.Sure,he was in a wheelchair and handicapped,but what he was doing was clearly not just to feed himself,buy himself three meals a day or pay his rent.He was creating little pieces of art,right there in the middle of the bustling night market and standing out from the rest of the stores.I shook his hands out of pure respect,and left the night market thinking just how inspired i was by him and his art.Truly amazing stuff,i tell you.

Between the Sky & You

I swear,ia m growing moulds in my joints,but for some strange and sick reason i am loving the weather like that.I remember those days with the long straw bench in the balcony,when i used to grab my blanket and sleep on the cushion while the rain falls hard all around the rest of the world around.But of course,with the kind of rain i am experiencing now in the night sky now,it is almost impossible to attempt that sort of stupidity.Well,it was a kind of sweet stupidity back then,but doing it in this sort of down pour has no sweetness involved at all.It is just plain stupid,and that's the end of the story.

So it hasnt been raining this heavily for a very long time.Perhaps ever since those early days of NS two years ago.But anyway,the question came to my mind as to if i prefer to walk in the rain under an umbrella,or just in the rain in naught but your shirt and skin.Looking out into the darkening skies and the rain,the answer is of course obvious.But it is not like it'd make a difference,with the slanted rain spashing in from every direction possible,and the flooded pavements reaching halfway up your ankles.The good old NS outfield days reenacted,great.

I hope it remains like that for a while,though it is probably not going to.I know that during my Malaysian trips i made a lot of plans to meet up with friends,to catch up and have a Christmas dinner.But for some reason the weather is prompting me to stay indoors,and i have half the mind to follow suit.Sure i want to meet up with my friends,and at the same time enjoy the remaining days in Singapore before i leave for Taiwan after Christmas.But just look at the weather outside,and tell me you want to go out into that kind of world in a nice holiday shirt.Seriously,i will think twice if i were you.And no,you will never catch me in town with my shorts and slippers.No way.

I must say for the millionth time,that i love watching movies in bed with her.The depression in the bed,the warmth on the left side of my body and of course,the ones that she leaves.Especially today though,because it kept on raining the whole day.The rain is the best lamp shade when the sun is acting as the light bulb.Everything has a different tone or feel to it,and in my room with the movie playing on the computer and her on my side,everything was just so tragically beautiful.I swear,if a poet saw the both of us in the soft glow of my room this afternoon,he wouldve wept and made a poem out of the image.It was that beautiful,i swear.

I was walking out of my estate with her in my arms today.It kept on raining,and i held her close to me because the umbrella wasnt too big and her bag was protruding.The smell of her hair as i held her close filled my nostrils,and we had to shout to one another over the sound of the thunderous rain falling from the sky all around.It was crazy,the way everywhere was literally flooded.We tried jumping over puddles and mini-ponds.But the great big ones got in our way,and we had not much of a choice but to get our feet wet.But the dinner at the hawker centre down at the HDB block was great,with the chicken rice and the Dim Sum.Amazing food i have around my house and right under my nose.I actually missed it!How ignorant of me.

*

You havent cried that hard in days i thought.Not with me for a long time.It wasnt because of the movie,or the movie afterwards.I dont think it was the weather that induced those tears,the way they fell scared me really.It was completely dark in my room i remember,and i could make our your silhouette against the back of my bed.Your face was there,and we kissed in the dark.But i tasted something salty,something foreign.'Are you crying?' i quietly asked,and you kept silent and shunned away.I knew,and said no more.

In the dim glow of the yellow lamp in my room,your hair was spread all over my pillow.Your body felt cool against mine,and there was an unspoken fear in the air.Your thoughts were escaping through the fissures in your head,and was boucing around the walls of my room and screaming above the sound of rain against the window sill.I held you tight in my arms,and tried to squeeze the fear and sadness out of you.But i felt your tears falling harder on my shoulders,running down my skin and then disappearing in the fabric.I felt your heart against mine,and then the sobbings getting harder and harder.I wasnt sure what you were afraid of,but i know that at that very moment as you broke down within yourself,i broke down,too.

I have already told you what i have to say.Even the talk i had with my mother only hours ago.Like i told you,there are so many things about us that i cannot promise,and i would rather not promise so as to prevent empty promises being made in the future.I cannot promise you that our relationship will last till the end of time,till death do us part.I cannot promise that with the change of our environment - when you go to work and then school,while i attend college - things are going to remain the same.I cannot guarantee you that i will not fall for another girl and think that our relationship was in any way,fabricated or untrue.And vice versa too,the same as you cannot promise anything in return.But i understand,and know that as a fact,that i can only promise the effort that i can put in to actually make that happen.

Sure,you are going to go your way and i am going to go mine.You are going to start work in January,and then of course there is the school aspect we both have to consider.You are going to meet more people and experience a lot of things in life your previously never encountered.Things are going to be realised between one another we never noticed before the change of circumstances.Because really,the environment changes us as a person,and who knows if we are going to like each other in the days to come?I cannot promise you that i will,but i can tell you now that i am flexible,that i can change.

I told my mother that instead of seeing the change in the environment as a definite end to a relationship,we should see it as a test for the parnter and self.It is an obstacle life sets for us,and we have to find means and ways to get above or around it be adapting.I think a successful relationship has to have the ability to overcome these obstacles to adapting to one another,to adapt the surroundings and be flexible,so as to get used to the changes the partner might have,or you might have.And i think the main thing a couple has to do is to respect one anothe.Like my mother said,respecting your partner is to respect yourself.That is the truth everybody seeks,remember that.

There is no word in any dictionary to define what is between right and wrong.Right and wrong are two words on the opposite sides of the poles.There is nothing in between to say that 'It was not right,but it was not wrong either'.It is a grey area in between,with everything blurry and vague.But you just have to understand,that the past is the past.Like Celine said,memories are beautiful things if you dont have to deal with the past.You dealt with them your own ways,you paid your debts.You had the emotional trauma thrown upon you,the silent finger-pointings and of course so many other things i am reuctant to mention now.You paid it with your dear life,you paid it with gallons of tears fell on the cold hard floor of your room and on my shirt.Remember those,and that you paid up.You dont have to deal with the past anymore,you really dont have to.

It was a right thing for you to do,nor was it wrong.It is a class of its own,and it is not something you can have a definite answer about.Was it right?Not really.But was it wrong?No,either.All i can say that it was a deal about respect,and it was a respect to self that you didnt have while in that messed up part of your life.By knowing the consequences and still hurting yourself,by ignoring the possibilities of protecting yourself and prevent something from happening is a disrespect to yourself.But was it right?I hate the fact that there isnt a term to describe the feeling of being in the middle of right and wrong.I dont think there is a point in between though,but a path that leads out to the question of whether it was respectful of yourself or not.

*

I walked home alone in the rain under the umbrella.Thoughts spunned through my mind like a merry-go-round.Just thoughts,thoughts hitting the front of oncoming cars and were gone.The heartbreak in your eyes,and then the heart shattering within my chest.It broke my heart when you sobbed in my arms.Even there,you couldnt stop your tears from falling,and i felt as if i couldnt do anything else,and a little helpless then.All i could do was to give you that stupid smile of mine,and kept asking you if you were okay after telling you my thoughts,which didnt mean anything to me all of a sudden.I kept telling myself that i needed to do something,anything.But what could i offer other than my words?I dont know what you saw and see in me my love,and i still dont.Perhaps in the days to come,but for now everytime you cry,i feel in a way,that i am back at square one again.I can never remove that thought from your head,those doubts and the traumas.I wish at times that you never met Mr. M,that after Superhero you came to me straight.In that way,you wouldnt have had that kind of...well,shit.It is a hard road to fix you,but i am walking upon the rocky surface with you,and you know that.You know that,right?I dont know which part of me you saw that attracted you,or which aspect of my hands you found to be comforting to hold.I really dont know,i dont know at all.But what i do know...what i am sure of is what i whispered in your ears before you got onto the bus and left into the raging storm.

I love you,i really do.

And like the reason why you love me in return,i dont know why.I dont know why at all.But i am smiling,smiling clueless.Are you seeing my stupid smile?Are you?

Smile,you are fine.You are together,you are fine.

*

Between the sky and you
There was a fight between the both of you
As to who can cry the most,who can break into
More pieces of hearts,hearts that turned softly blue

The sky had an edge,it rained as hard as it could
It even rained more than it probably should
But in a dry room,with a bright yellow gloom
Only the tears you fell could blow my heart's balloons...