Saturday, December 26, 2009

Two Deaths in Silence

We have a friend who is dying. It was sudden. There he was entertaining us, fake punching us, there he was passing out the cards, or ordering the eighth beer tower between the three of us while we're puking our guts out on the floor.

Now he is lying on the bed comatose. Distant, unreachable.

We are sitting on opposite sides of his death bed. Sometimes we glance at each other, hesitantly, never knowing what to expect.

I feel like telling them. The one dying. The one living.

That she has left. That my heart and soul has been ripped asunder. That there is a void in the centre of me so large, so massive, so powerful that it feels like everything might fall in.

But I cannot speak it. It would feel like a mockery.

To speak of living death before the dying.

We both of us die in the still tense silence.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Manners and Murder

They say manners are a good thing. Manners bring polish and politeness. These in turn bring amiability. And that is useful to lure good fortune and seal favours. People generally like those that possess if not inhabit manners.

But manners prevent me from the sayings the things I need to say. I cannot call you a fucking murderer. I cannot accuse you of being a slimy scum sucking ball licking piece of shit. No. Manners demand that we respectfully dance around the massive gargoyle in the room that whose upper body has crashed through the ceiling and the pieces are raining down on us. It demands that we presume a person so unworthy of humanity to have a good reputation. The more loathsome the person, the higher their presumed reputation. So even though everybody knows what you did, we have to smile and pretend it didn't happen. 1984 in 2009.

Manners demand I politely remark in the words utterly devoid of emotion of your impropriety. We can only accuse you of that when you have betrayed and ruined us and still hold our beating hearts in your hand. Manners demand a considered and reasoned reaction to your intended madness when I want to choke the living shit out of you with my bare hands. Manners forces my mouth when my fingers want to dig into the softness of your neck and rip out your spine by tearing off your head. Manners forces a handshake when my hands wants to murder your entire family in front of you while you lay dying as you have done to so thoughtlessly to many others. So the last thing you are able to comprehend as you fade is your complete annihilation. So that when you are faced with death, you will long for it. And when you finally beg for it, pray for it, long for it like a fresh love denied, I want to keep you alive. But only just enough for you to comprehend you are living death.

And maybe after that, perhaps we can use manners a smidgen more meaningfully.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Solitary Walk

It is a pleasant thing sometimes to walk alone incognito in sprawling deteriorating and decrepit streets.

Nobody to wait for. Nobody to catch up.

To look at those dirty chipped walls sometimes stained with beautifully unappreciated art. To see the rats quickly dash by as if we couldn't notice it. It need not worry. We are mutually indifferent.

There is more life in the areas of developmental entropy. There are flies, mosquitoes, cockroaches as there are weeds, little flowers that struggle up from the cracks of broken undulating concrete.

Last night I walked past a scrawny wrinkled who looked too old with a child sleeping in her lap. His head was on where her thigh should be. His legs dangled from her other thigh. She had called out to me from the darkness. The bowl in front of her sat empty. Symbolic more than useful.

I didn't know what she said in her foreign language. But I understood. Completely.

She played on my mind even as I walked on. Even though I didn't see her clearly, she weighed so heavily on me. Eventually I returned and pressed more than I usually did into her hand. I felt the wiry thinness of her fingers clumsily grabbing the money from my fingers as if afraid I would change my mind.

At the least it should spare her a day off the streets and a decent meal.

So why did I feel worse after that act of charity?

Thursday, October 29, 2009

The Morning Assembly

The morning sun cast glowing yet cool shafts of light through the thick clouds, softening the edges of everything it touched. The dew still hung precariously on the edges of the flowers and leaves. The birds had not finished their song nor the butterflies their dance.

King Baloo was already standing on the pavilion with Prince Balroukh on his right perched above a massive armoured war elephant, which stood at least a head taller than the largest in the platoon. A golden aura glowed from the many fine gold threads carefully laid their breastplate and sewn into their fine splendid garments.

Before them not too far away were the prisoners they had captured after a 10 year battle with Tuk'aranth. They were hemmed into an irregular rectangular crowd that stretched into the horizon by the row of soldiers on both their sides. They were bloody, filthy, ragged and yet despite their misery there was not a sound from any of them or the soldiers. Silently the stood. All the eyes in the crowd were riveted to the two glowing figures they could barely make out, even those at the front of the crowd.

The commander after what seemed an eternity of silence turned to King Baloo and said, 'Your Magnificence, they are ready.' After King Baloo acknowledged him and the commander returned his gaze to the crowd.

King Baloo turned to the mass of bodies before him and finally turned to the Prince touching hi
m on his left shoulder.

'The time has come, my son,' he said gravely.

Prince Balroukh turned to him with a searching look. And King Baloo saw the silhouette of his head mirrored in his son's eyes.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Before the Crash

Phuket, Thailand
January 2007

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Muzium Negara Bersifat Subversif!

Sign to Gallery D
Muzium Negara, Kuala Lumpur
26 January 2009

Monday, May 11, 2009

Flesh and Blood

Only a thin veil of flesh
divides this earth from the evil within
wrapped by a thin plastic film of rationality
and perhaps good even

But it's there

The blood coursing through these veins
my murderous malignant intent
Can you feel my evil when I smile and shake your hand?

it's there
it's there
it's there

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Oh porn, why doth thou beckon?

An example of porn

When I think about it I just don't get porn. Perhaps porn should just be seen and heard but not thought about in much depth. After all, porn movies rarely demand much, or if any, intellectual rigour or emotional depth. The plot is usually easy to follow that even our local politicians can understand them in one sitting, or may even have acted out some of them out themselves unknowingly, of course. And like the usual Hollywood summer blockbusters, we all know who is whom, whom does what to whom and how it ends. Yes, there are some variations in terms of where the limbs are placed, or whether one is standing, kneeling, on all fours or lying down but when you come down to it, there are just two main working components with a straightforward two stroke motion. Forward. Backward. Isn't it strange the amount of complexity people go through to seek for such an embrace in such a manner as pleasurable (generally anyway, Navel Gazing recognizes that there are occasional performances so dismal in quality that it would have been better for both participants to have not engaged in the act) as it is simple?

So we can understand the act itself and the reasons for doing so. (And if you don't please stop reading the rest of this article immediately. Read only what is in within these brackets. If you stay in here, you will be safe. Now, very slowly, press the reset button. Keep your eyes on the words in these brackets. Got it? Good.) Now that we've got rid of those fellas, as I was about to pose a question rhetorically, why do we enjoy porn, or in another way, watching other people copulating?

We are not engaged in the act with them. We do not know them. And they are not performing it live in front of us, it's recorded. In an immediate sense the performers don't care what we think. In most cases we will never meet them. It's not as if we haven't done it before, or done it in that fashion, or know how it feels. What is more they could make us feel inferior with their better bodies, better looks (okay, maybe not for most of the guys), better staying power, and are skilled at their craft to do some fonky positions like the verticle 69 and helicopter (novelty factor: 10 cool factor: 0). We are also less likely to perform the act in heels, with a bowtie around our neck, or crotchless underwear in a room filled with other people. The loudness of the moans would usually be less because we are embarassed if other people hear us having sex (what's so bad about hearing other people having a good time? Enjoy it like you would good news off the radio-ish, unless of course their dirty talk sounds up like some filthy DJ banter then turn the volume down. They are, after all, not there to talk). Our facial expressions would more likelier be less intense and pained looking than those on screen because we are not performing for people we would never meet and need to impress them with the intensity of our performance.

So what is it really? Why ah?

I mean aside from the fact that it's nice to watch every now and again in reasonable doses.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009


was walking along Lonely Lane
saw venus north of the sky
smiling and shining ever so bright
heard the owl laughing loudly
hey nightghost what’s so funny
guitarman , you are the funny one
venus ain’t smiling she’s grinning
ask the sun he’ll tell ya…

the water rippled in the River Faith
thought the sun was rising early
but it was just the water boiling hot
saw the moon she was crying
at a base of a tree a squirrel somersaulted
the owl flew above my head
seek the sun coz he knows all
he shines on both venus and the moon

as i turned to Hurtful Avenue
i saw a thousand souls
making calls on their cell phones
the joke is on you guitarman
and the sun ain’t gonna tell ya…


Tuesday, April 7, 2009

On the Outside

It's cold and lonely where I am.

On the outside looking in.

In a white out blizzard.

I cannot see.

So I press my face as closely as I can to the window but taking care not to break it.

From what I can make out and guess from what is spared by the web of ice covering the glass, I can see the main door which opens into the living room. There is a warm comfortable glow about the room. Two big and deep cushioned recliner chairs glance at each other in front of what could be a lively cackling fire. A huge tan brown bear rug on the dark brown stained wooden floor lay between the recliners and the fire. Behind the recliners is an oval shaped table with a few chairs around it. On top of it is a black suitcase with what looks like silver or white gold tasteful but understated trimmings. A pair of thin round shaped spectacles rests overturned on top of the suitcase. Then I see a man and a woman walk into the room happily talking to each other as the walk towards the fireplace. After sitting on the recliners and chatting for a while they end up making love on the bear where they fell asleep in each other's arms.

It looks how it has always been. It is pleasant to remember what was.

But I no longer hunger for it now. So I turn away from the scene.

The web of ice quickly creeps over, freezing me out.

As I close my eyes in readiness to welcome and passionately embrace the piercing cold once more, a smile slowly creeps into the opposite edges of my lips.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Proton is diversifying into car accessories.

Tuesday 31st March:

In an announcement made yesterday, Proton MD proudly announced that the national car manufacturer is diversifying into the huge car accessories market which is as yet untapped on a large scale by car manufacturers. The Proton MD confessed that a walk around Sunway one day had inspired him to suggest to the Proton management to take a plunge into this market.

"I was walking around Sunway one day and I was awestruck by how lively the auto aftermarket products scene is. There are tonnes of people modifying their cars with aftermarket products. The place is littered with turbos, superchargers, stickers and what have you. The people just like to personalise their cars, be it the engine, for more power or the body, for a distinctive look," enthused the Proton MD. "Of course, Proton is not going to manufacture turbo chargers, super chargers, exhaust pipes or aftermarket pistons, conrods and the likes, not as yet. We will start with body kits."

For a start, a new subsidiary company called Proton Body Kit (PRO-BOD) has been established. "We are starting with some nice body kits for upmarket cars like BMW and Mercedez. That is because the owners of these cars would have the means to purchase these nice upmarket kits."

"We believe PRO-BOD will take the aftermarket scene by storm. This will also ensure Proton's ability to ride out the current economic meltdown,", said he.


The PRO-BOD's Brabust Body Kit Series. Only for serious enthusiasts.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Economy: A Stimulating Idiot's Guide (Reloaded)

Art originally wrote this piece which is published at Articulations and Loyarburok. We thought of putting it up again here with the pictures he actually wanted to use. I volunteered to undertake this. In return he graciously permitted me to '[f]eel free to re-write whatever is deemed fit and necessary.' So with this license, I thought I'd try doing something I've been wanting to try out: an Art/Daef collab. So here is the piece, reloaded! We hopes you enjoying its.

So, we're supposed to be insulated from the global economic meltdown like a turgid penis fully sheathed in a skin tight condom with the little tip flopping about impotently at the end. Like, uh, awesome dood! When countries with bigger metaphorical penises like America, Japan and Germans suffering economic-tile dysfunction so badly they're almost diagnosed as koro, we on our mishapen penile peninsular named Malaysia smiled like a pimp after his hoes turned good tricks all night. When the biggest economies were foretelling complete and utter financial disaster, our guys are telling us that you, me, and yeah you too, that we would be insulated because of our "diversified economy and strong foundations". Not only that dood. We not just gonna maintain our hard on, but we gonna grow it even bigger and better... 4.5% of penile growth they proclaimed. Forgetting that even with the condom on, their balls are still exposed.

Despite trenchant criticism from sounder economists that our Finance Ministry is living in Najibland, we are also insulated because of the wide spread mental therapy our Home Ministry has implemented known as 'Repeat Therapy'. Unfortunately, it does not apply to sex. For the virginal, Repeat Therapy is a process where we convince ourselves of the truth of something by repeating it until we cannot think of anything else. We have one of its most profound practitioners of this mind techonology with our beloved outgoing Prime Minister, the inimitable Dato' Seri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi. Remember when he repeatedly said "I am in control" as he was being shoved out the party? Or when he repeatedly chanted "I will be fair" when he was at best only in skin colour? Or in those private moments when he whispers consolingly to himself repeatedly, 'I know what I'm doing.' before falling asleep soundly. Stuff like that. So let's do the Badawi and keep chanting (unless you are Muslim then you can only chant in Arabic, because then it doesn't count as chanting even though it really is) 'Malaysia's economy is insulated' as our nuts hang out for the global financial epidemic to wipe it clean off.

The truth is the world economy is bad, getting worse and going to hit us like one big bad fiery meteor from hell up the arse. Check this. The International Labour Organisation projects that 23 million people are going to lose their jobs in Asia this year! (see here) 1% of that is 230,000. Even if Malaysia "contributes" 0.5% of that, it would mean 115,000 Malaysians would lose their job! Insulated? Like a condom with the head ripped off more like. And what about the approximately 300,000 Malaysians crazy enough to work in Singapore? If even 10% of them are retrenched, that means 30,000 people without jobs.

Now factor in the reduction of working days due to production cut-off, cancellation of over-time, forced holidays, compulsory masturbation and the freeze on bonus and salary increass; has our government given any thought what the cumulative effect of all that would do to our economy?

Condom with the head ripped off? Na'ah. 4.5% GDP growth? Ha ha. More like A bulldog ran over and slashed at our nuts and ripped off our no longer turgid penises with one savage yank (no I don't mean American). Just recently, Citibank Group forecasted that our GDP will in fact shrink to -1.5% this year! Economic koro dood. The big R. The Mama Kahuna. But remember what Abdullah Ahmad Badawi and Nor Mohamad said earlier this year? No. We will not be in a recession. We will do fine. We will grow wings and halos will appear on our head as our genitals grow larger and wider. So repeat after them and it will be alright, okay?

The numbers are creeping out now. Malaysia's export has shrunk. In December 2008 alone, our export shrunk to 46 billion ringgit, which represents a 14.9% decline year on year (see here). Our biggest trading partner, America, is in a financial black hole. Japan, our traditional trading partner is seeing their consumer index dipping southward at an alarming rate. And we are insulated. Roight. The only guy who can probably pull insulated off in such an environment is David Copperfield but it's a shame he didn't do finance and economics.

So let's discuss economics in easy to understand terms. We want to use terms that can reach both the lowest and highest common denominator.

Lesson One: The Economy is Like a Set of Tits

God, aren't those awesome. Uh, where were we? Oh yeah. Tits. Big ones. We think we like 'em big. Because big means more and in this age of capitalism, bigger always means better. But the thing is, tits are generally not naturally big. Well, most of the time, that is. To make the economy big, we would have to do something to it like if we wanted to make a pair of tits firmer. We gotta stroke it, love it, want it. But they definitely ain't getting firmer or bigger just by staring hard at them. Plus, it's rude to stare you know.

No. That wouldn't do. We have to bring them to the operating table, cut them open and inject silicon to prop them up so that their nipples start pointing skyward and stitch 'em back Then they will be big. But no, we cannot just do that. That would be wrong.

We at Navel Gazing will always examine our subject matter thoroughly first. From this extensive examination, we can then determine what is wrong, or not quite right with them. Then after a shag or two, we go to the drawing board and plan. We would have to imagine then start sketching out modestly the kind of tits that we crave or may need. We cannot just make do with any old tits which are big. And we certainly cannot be mechanical about it by either injecting and injecting until the nipples start staring back at the owner or stimulate, stimulate and stimulate until the nipples get sore. If we did that, we'd have Frankenstein tits - monstrous, ugly and totally useless because they are so frightening!

Lesson Two: The Economy, Like Tits, Must be Proportionate

Just because big is good, don't think that the bigger they are, the better they will be. That is why China had to actually control its economics growth. They try to control growth around 8-10%. Sometimes it exceeds to 11%. But there must be control. Why? Because if we do not control the growth, the economy would grow too fast and a bubble effect would ensue. The bubble then, when it is too big, like tits, would burst! When it burst, it would ruin the hard on, dooood.

Lesson Three: Look at the Whole Body, Not Just the Tits

This is very important. Just imagine a 36FF on a 4'8" body with big hair. Whoa nelly!

So just like a woman's hawt body, the economy must be looked at as a whole. Not in selective spots here, there if not everywhere. We have micro economics and macro economics. Both must compliment each other the way our respective reproductive functions of both sexes do. Micro policies must be optimised to support the macro ones, like the various limbs and body work to support the breasts.

Which brings us to our next point. The economy does not exist in a vacuum. It is but one element in a bigger circle consisting of the society and the international community. And in that respect, politics plays an important role into the equation. Hence the economy cannot be detached from its direct impact on social and political life, or as we would happily argue sexual life! When planning the economy thoughts must be given to its societal impact.

What for instance are we going to do about the people who lose their jobs? What about retraining? What about creating small business opportunities? Or new job skills? And have we thought of the rising criminal activities which are induced by economics uncertainties or difficulties? What about health problems afflicting the people due to the economics downturn? What about health care system? Are we going to sacrifice educations in favour of a quick financial gain elsewhere? And what are we going to do when all these turmoils are over? Back to the same old game? Or new games? If it is the latter, do we need new rules and regulations? Are we going to diversify in something else? New and uncharted economics territory?

Lesson Four: Stimulations Must be Total

Don't just concentrate on the nipples! Just as a woman needs to be pleasured thoroughly and completely before she hits a multiple orgasm, those so called stimulus packages should be spread throughout the various economic sectors. They certainly should not be targetted solely at heavily politically connected industries like the construction industry. Just recently we heard that Road Builders (a subsidiary of IJM) was awarded the extensions of a road by 12 kilometers immediately after the concession of the toll road it operates expires! Hmmm... one expires and another one springs to life. Like an irrepresible hard on. Interesting.

Anyway, as we were saying, the stimulus plan must be wide ranging and holistic in nature. It mustn't be a stop gap measure. That's like being able to obtain a hard on easily but then suffering acutely from pre-mature ejaculation. Little point in it. Stimulation must have direction and work towards a goal, and must not be spaced too far apart. You just don't warm up the breasts only to go off for an hour and then come back for the main course. The economy just doesn't work like that. The fact that we have to announce a second stimulus just about 4 months after the first one shows that the first one was insufficient and not sufficiently thought out. We do not want a 3rd stimulus after this. Or a 4th one. There must be one holistic stimulus. Have we ever heard China launching a second stimulus in 4 months? Or Germany? Or wherever? Oh wait, maybe Chad... oh wait, they don't give a shit.

Our Government has a bad habit of introducing stop gap measures. While these may seem good at first, problems will continue to arise like a nasty ex-gf you just cannot get rid off. Any stimulus package must appreciate all angles. In particular, it must address all the issues raised in Lesson Three above. If not it is more useless than stimulus. And that is so not the very cool, dooood.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Thought of the Minute

When faced with annihilation, relief is found in sweet, transient oblivions. 

in line six...





Friday, February 13, 2009

What kinda man are you?

And your choices are: tits, ass or leg.

As if women could only be served up in three pre-packed choices like supermarket chicken, only without the shrinkwrap and foam bottom. But I suppose those choices tend to be the primary ones because they are the most visual ones. And the theory for the moment is that us men, on average, tend to be more visual than women in their sexuality, supposedly because we are wired different. This I think is reflected in the quality of porn men and women enjoy. 

What we know as porn - everybody's shaved smooth, perfectly proportioned (all the guys are huge cocked and the women with at least Cs, a fine looking ass and shapey legs that look great in heels), minimal story line (oh no, I have no money to pay you with. Maybe ...), the focus is mostly on the woman (there she's enjoying going down on him, now she's riding him cowgirl, now reverse cowgirl, her face close up showing her what I call overmoaning) or the scene of penetration (close ups of the mechanics from the standard set of angles), alternating between the two with an occasional five to ten second shot of the guy either with his eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open or silently repeating some phrase that definitely has the word 'fuck' 'yeah' and 'baby' in it or with his aggressive look when he's going at her hard and fast asking her whether she enjoys it that way. All that. That's the kind of porn men generally enjoy. 

Women, or those that I happened to know (or perhaps I don't know enough!), generally don't tend to get into that (unless of course they are extremely horny at the time, then you can put on Tom and Jerry and still get it on). For them, the problem with male porn is there is no interesting plausible well thought out story that is borne out by an excellent cast of well acted characters. There is no artworthy demand made of the actors other than to coo, scream or hurriedly demand that they be fornicated, licked, sucked or sodomized in a harder and faster fashion, and so to them, that is not acting. They think its tacky to keep heels on whilst having sex in bed. They dislike how it usually ends. And would not like it in real life either.

So sometime in the 90's a new more auteur generation of porn film makers  looked towards catering to the women's market. So now women don't buy porn. They buy erotica. That's made for women porn. It's more focused on the characters as people, they have motivations, there's a story, the sex scenes are more tastefully done - they are shot softer, with decent music, more shots of the couple together, better looking guys, and with less intensity and frequency on the shots of the scene of penetration, and focus more on the, you got it, foreplay. 

Or maybe it's because it keeps with our simple lifestyle we simplify our choices: T A L.

But that's the problem with simplicity sometimes, its restrictive, confining, especially where it concerns women, these mysterious exquisite creatures capable of such mesmerising beauty and charming qualities. Yes, I concede that those areas tend to be the main thoroughfare, and yes sir, I can appreciate their visually aesthetic aspect but surely, surely, a lover of woman cannot be satisfied with just that immensely satisfying though it may be. Her entire body in the right circumstance can transform into a finely tuned instrument of a sexual passion (and maybe love!). Her entire physical being is open for exploration, experimentation, stimulation, emancipation and climax. 

And there are many interesting less travelled routes and visited areas that possess their own particular charms and are worth more than a quick casual glance, in terms of popular culture. At the top and just behind her earlobe, the bottom of her earobe, the front of her neck where it meets her jaw, underneath her jaw, that cleft between her chin and the bottom of her lip, or the back of her neck, my glades of tranquility. Then there is her back, like a mesmerising vista of the changing unchanging ocean winking here and glittering there in the sunlight. So much to explore, to trace, and always, always too little time: the craggy region of her shoulders; the neglected, side from her chest to her hips; the length of her spine down past the small of her back til just a spasm into the vally of her ass; and both left and right sides of her back. Then there is delicious slide from the top of her ass down to her smooth slender calves. Or lingering at the peak of her toes. Or the back of the length of her arm. Or an unbroken straightline from her chest until the tip of her chin. Or the inner of her thighs. For example. 

The best part is that there are many modes of transport down these neglected thought immense charming routes. One can travel by nose, lips, tongue, a single hair, side of the face, and of course, hands. They all yield different facets of the routes fascinating both for traveller and route every time. Heh. Which is why if someone asked me that question these days, I'd tell him. 'Journey man, son. I'm travelling all the time.'

(Puts on a dark grey fedora and breaks into a folk song on a guitar)

Thursday, January 29, 2009

The Journey

I have journeyed much. Much to realise that my journey is not as much a movement from a place to another as it is a struggle to change from one form to another; a shift from one position to another; a climb of one step to a step higher and a constant fight between one force against another. Now in this state of non-physicality, I know that I was created from the lowest element existing under my feet; the soil, the lowest element. After I have been shaped into physicality, into me was blown the highest form in Your creation, and beyond; Your spirit. I am therefore a mixture of the lowest and the highest; darkness and light; bad and good; evil and Godliness. Although it is obvious that I start from the lowest; the darkness; the badness and the evil. The journey is therefore the struggle to shift from the lowest element; the darkness, badness and the evil to the highest element; Your spirit. And only when I reach the highest form will I unite with Your spirit, giving me a glimpse of You and Your Greatness. And that would be my victory.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

a pedant's first paragraph

It was a dark and stormy night. It was so dark, the darkness of which you would have never seen. But of course, come to think about it, one could never see darkness. Lest it would not be dark. Or dark enough. And the darkness of this particular night is one of those. It was a type of darkness that one could not even see one's palm even if one holds it up an inch from one's eyes. Really dark. Pitch black dark. And there was nary a ray of light. None. Absolutely none. Not a single teeny weeny bit of light anywhere. The sky was black. No star. No moon. Hence the total darkness that night. I did a test. I closed my eyes and then I opened them. It was the same. The sight was absolutely totally the same as when my eyes were closed and when they were opened. I could not see anything. It was that dark. But to say the sight was the same would imply that there was a sight or an ability to see. The truth was there was no sight at all. I could not see anything. Because the night was so dark. Pitch black dark. And it was stormy too. Well, not really a storm. No. Not really. It was raining heavily. And the wind was blowing. Not the kind of wind which would be classified as a storm. Just strong wind. The kind which would make the tree branches sway left and right, up and down. Not the kind which would cause the lamp posts to fly or the trees to be uprooted though. It was a strong wind. But not a particularly strong wind as to qualify it to be a storm. Stormy it might be. But definitely not a storm. The rain was heavy, although it was not the kind of rain which would cause a flood in a minute or two. Heavy. But not overly heavy. It wasn't really a storm then. It was just a heavy rain with a not particularly strong wind. In other word, it was a mild storm. Very mild storm. Thunders could be heard of and on from afar. And although the thunders were not particularly loud, the darkness of the night made them sound more pronounced that they actually were. In actual fact, they were not even sufficient to jolt me out of my sleep, if I were asleep. That kind of thunder. Occasionally, there would be lightning bolts. Which would light up the nights as and when it happened. Well then, it wasn't really a dark and stormy night. It was a dark night, littered with lightning bolts - which would illuminate the night with lights - and stormy, in a not very stormy way, night.

I had to leave the place fast. I walked briskly. Well, I was almost running actually. Not a sprint but.....

Thursday, January 15, 2009

co da.

the fat lady took a bow
amidst screams for encores
bouquets were thrown about
as some hurriedly walked out

I took a walk along the Strand
candles in cardboard boxes
empty souls in winterland
lying down waiting for god

walked my way down to Soho
watched some gals in the nude
ended up in Hyde Park
where cold wintry winds
grabbed and squeezed my soul
a thousand shadows in dancing mood
oh, where were you my lady luck?
and why must the moon grin?

I thought I saw the fat lady
waving from a black cab
yeah she's finished singing
now it's just loneliness and me
with sadness on my lap
I am the heart break king

Monday, January 12, 2009

Kung Fu Fighting (Part Fu)

How to Kick Someone Properry

Before Double M had fully erected himself upon standing up, Fu Yoh had launched himself into the air with his slim though powerful legs using the legendary Elephant Flying with Fire on Ass technique and spun the staff so quickly and masterfully above his head appearing momentarily like an early prototype of a machine to be created 500 years later known as the 'helicopter'. His clothes trembled and shook as he landed not five feet from where he landed stylishly with both feet solidly on the ground.

'Ah, so you know some kung fu,' chuckled Double M casually.

'I AM Kung Fu!' declared Fu Yoh angrily as he felt his chi building up around his points of power and struck the threatening Wounded Tiger Taking A Breather Before He Rips Your Face Off pose, his magnificent wooden staff held out in front of him. He could feel energy coursing into his arms down to his hands.

Double M stood unmoved though his grin grew broader until it was a shade short of being reasonably described psychotic.

'Kung Fu indeed. When I'm through with you, you'll be Kung Fool!'

'Yaaaaahhhh,' Fu Yoh screamed as he lept (Psychadelic Toad on Coke Jump) and dashed through the air, staff pointed resolutely at Double M's head, his feet running quickly on an ascending invisible stairs. Even as Fu Yoh rushed closer towards Double M, he made no move to deflect the blow. Suddenly, Fu Yoh felt worried even as he flew through the air. He could see the end of his staff almost touching Double M's head. Why was Double M not even moving? His gaze was fixed firmly on Fu Yoh's eyes and seemed to notice nothing else.

Suddenly his flight ended. Double M had caught the pointed end of his staff with his right palm and held it in place with Fu Yoh still clinging to the staff.

'It's time for you to meet the earth, little sparrow,' said Double M. When he flung the staff, Fu Yoh somersaulted on to the ground and struck the Tequila Grasshopper stance, both fists cackling with power. He rushed towards Double M and opened his attack with a wave of quick relentless punches known as the Thousand Kisses of Your Mother in Law an alternating it with a few Father In Law Loving Embrace long pull back punches. But Double M was not fazed; he met every blow with either a block or harmlessly redirected his punch.

Few could stand up to Fu Yoh's Parents in Law techniques, which usually brought a quick end to his fights. He learned it from his former wife's parents, who though were not trained showed remarkable natural ability. It was not his force that was deadly but his quickness. He could wear most opponent's down in several breaths because after a while they would not be able anticipate him. But Double M didn't even seem to break a sweat. And all the while his eyes were fixed on Fu Yoh's.

Then it happened. When Fu Yoh lost track of Double M's eyes and caught sight of his broad grin, it happened.

It was the blurred rushed haze. It was the feeling of an immovable object flying at great speed crashing into his chest and then another immovable object crashing into his right ribs so hard he heard a crack. It was him then flying through the air again on an entirely different trajectory not of his choosing. The grass below him rushed into a smooth uniform green. It was him landing from a great height on to the ground with another crack. It was him feeling something warm and wet spill out his mouth that was faced down on the ground. It was him reluctantly embracing the darkness he tried so hard to escape. It was the broad grin that he saw even when he could not open his eyes.

It was Double M.

The last words Fu Yoh heard in the distance before the darkness claimed him was:

'Kung Fool. Who's next?'

Friday, January 9, 2009

iS tHIs sOnG lIKe hAppEnINg oR sOMeTHIN'?


Hey yawl. Like wazzup dude? Like waz are yawl up to dood? I been listenin' a lot lately. Like listening to MP3 and my iPod stuffs like that. But lately it got me thinkin' you know, this chix Avril, is she happening or what?

I dunno man. But they say she's a punk rocker. Well, I like, like tawdally man, I like have a bit of problem with that. I mean, if she's a punk how could she be a rawker man. My dad told me that's not possible dood. And then like, if she's a rocker how could she be a punk ey? I mean, like punk rocker. Isn't that like so mixed up like Obama or somethin'? I dunno man. Yawl tell me. But she's one hot gal man. I must say. Like, yo man, she's hawt or what?

This song you know, I'm with you thingy. Wadayawl think about it ey? I think it's oh so crap dood. I mean, that song like make no sense man. No sense. Like toawdally dood. So not happening man.

Like first she says:

"I'm standing on a bridge,
I'm waiting in the dark,
I thought that you'd be here by now

Fine dood. That's okay by me. I mean, she waz like, waiting on a bridge. But why on a bridge? Nemind man. She waited on a bridge. Then she says:

"There's nothing but the rain,
No footsteps on the ground,
I'm listening but there's no sound

Is she like deaf or somethin' dood? No sound? It must have been a really small drizzle dood. Must be. Or like there would be sound otherwise, no? And then how would there be footsteps on the ground when she was waiting on the bridge dood? I have problem man. This is like so out of my area man.

"Isn't anyone tryin to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home?"

Like why would anyone try to find her dood? I mean she's hot and all that. I know. But when she's standing on a bridge, in the rain, why would someone try to find her rite? Unless her mom or somethin' has lodged a missing person report or somethin' I would have thought. This one escape me man. Like so tawdally escape me.

"It's a damn cold night,
Tryin to figure out this life.
Won't you take me by the hand, take me somewhere new?
I don't know who you are, but I...
I'm with you.
I'm with you."

This is too deep dood. Tawdally man. This shit is so deep it makes Obama seems shallow man. Really. I mean. Like she was trying to figure out her life or somethin', on a bridge you know, and there was this rain you know. Then she figures, oh yeah, she figures why don't you take my hand man, take me somewhere new man. Coz ya know you might be the answer to all this questions she has about her life you know. And a new place might just be her life ya know. Yeah man. Dood, that shit is so deep man.

But then man, she said she doesn't know who it is man. That is so confusing dood. Coz then she said she's with him already. I mean, she was there rite. Thinking about life and all. Then she was asking someone to take her hand and all. I mean she doesn't know him or her but she is with him or her already dood.

Tell yawl what. I think she like, smoking some heavy stuffs dood. Like tawdally heavy stuffs.


Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Kung Fu Fighting (Part 1)

A cool gentle breeze whispered through the large almost empty swaying field of long grass. A few white and light yellow petals occasionally floated by on invisible waves. Though not a cloud tarried in the deep blue sky, it was not hot as the sun was nowhere to be seen. A single large knotted trunk and densely leafed tree stood almost in the centre of the field, its twisted gnarled roots like tortured hands grasping something, anything, desperate for escape.

This is a good day to die, mumbled Double M.

He wore a simple robe that used to be light brown. It was less tattered and frayed around the edges with patched here and there. Double M sat on one of the thicker twist of root leaning against the deeply wrinkled trunk. His eyes were closed. His right hand held a tiny sharp blade which he scraped along a side of a thin though long slightly crooked branch.

He was about to break into a whistle of a distant melody when he suddenly heard three men treading very lightly at the edge of the field. They moved with purpose. They all wore cloth though one wore some metal armour. None carried swords, though another had a long wooden staff and another a short knife. From the sound they made, it was obvious that they took pains to conceal their presence. They had some skill in doing so too. Just not enough.

Though Double M heard the three men deliberately make their way to the tree, he made no effort to stir himself or open his eyes.

'Hail resting traveller!' called out the chocolate skinned man who wore singlet, dark green sarong and a light blue short sleeved shirt which lay open.

The little elusive smile that crept on to Double M's face at the greeting disappeared when he blinked his eyes open, like shadows in sunlight. He waved his right hand and returned the greeting. 'Where are you headed?' he asked.

'Over there,' he said as he pointed past the large tree into the forests in the distance.

'Ah, you still have some way to go then! Why don't you rest a bit?' said Double M breaking into a smile.

'Thank you for your kind offer traveler. I'm afraid we are on an urgent errand. Our quarry moves fast and so must we. Perhaps you could help us with our errand.'

'I'm always happy to help those in need, good sir! But in our haste, we must not forget our manners. Courtesy demands that we introduce ourselves first. I am Double M, traveller.'

A look of momentary surprise flashed on all three men's faces. To his right, the light yellow skinned man dressed in a simple deep scarlet shirt and pants slowly planted his tall wooden staff to the ground. To his left, the bald ebony skinned man swathed in white cloth to his left grew more still. The expression of the brown skinned man who stood in the middle gradually grew more blank.

'Greetings Double M. I apologise for my earlier lack of couth. I am Mat Pawer. To my right is Fu Yoh. To my left is Terror Lingam.' Both Fu Yoh and Terror Lingam bowed slightly at their introduction.

'Ah, the fearsome Technique of Three Heavens! I am honoured by your presence. Tell me, how can I help you fine gentlemen?'

'By your death, Double M,' replied Mat Pawer. 'Prepare yourself.'

At that, Double M's smile turned into a broad grin as he began to stand up.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Pontifications of the Penis

A cross section of the penis as we know it

I have a penis so it goes that I'm man. That adores women. And admires men. So it means I'll get on my knees for the former. Not the latter. And for the most part, I enjoy wielding a penis. My penis. Not yours. Or yours. You sick bastard. I admit it's not the 15 incher most guys in their first flush of porn would crave for, but you can bet it's not something to pick your teeth with after you eat. More like a slow melting ice cream that doesn't melt ... kind of thing. 

Actually, I don't like the word 'penis' because it sounds so clinical, so formal, so I need to wear gloves before I use it sorta thang. I like 'cock' better. It sounds dirtier. More sinister. Infinite possibilities abound. And it also rhymes with 'rock' and partially with 'fuck'. The downside is that it also rhymes with 'lock' but who cares. I'll never rhyme cock with lock because it sounds a little offensive, and I just fucking hate sounding like some offensive 15 inch cock wielder. 

Which I'm not because I don't have the number. 15 to be precise. These days I've learned to be happy with what I have. Which means not having 15. That's what experience does to you. Or rather growing old. Sometimes though I can't quite tell the difference where one ends and the other begins or if it even started in the first place. And experience has taught me why I won't be content with 15.

Firstly, the surgery would hurt a lot. What's more, if I grafted a 15 incher, I might just get a massive stroke or heart attack whenever I get a boner, so that's no fun. 'Hey watch it honey, you don't want to turn me on! I might just die on you. But you can ride me after if you're into that.' What's more, if I had a 15 incher, it'll in all probability be black in colour. Like the Macbook out now. If you want a bigger hard drive, we only got them in black honeh! I may be Asian and all but big cocks are black. That's that man. I've never seen a 15 in any other colour. And, and I'd have to be all rapper like, wear big gold chains, swap my teeth for gold ones and get tattooed up. I'm just not into all that. Plus my rapping sucks and I can't play basketball or run really fast. So even if I had 15, it might be wasted on me. 

And the vagina can only fit up to about 6 inches. So what's the point of having a 7 course meal when the diner only wants 3 satisfyingly full courses? Yes, a vagina can stretch much wider to accomodate a child but let's not dismiss comfort and extraordinary circumstances so readily shall we. That niner is not just excess... it's waste. And I abhor waste! Having a 15 incher swaying on a windy day will just conflict with my intense sense of moderation and reduce me to schizophrenia, if not multiple personalities for me and my cock. The latter may have psychological problems pretending to be a stout 8'er when he really is a hefty 15. There are somethings you just cannot fool yourself about. 

A 15'er will never get the whole thing unless he's into horses. Even then, watch out for the kicks, cowboy! And, and, he won't be able to wear shorts in public that end at the thighs cos then the package will be showing. He would have no career in speed sports be it swimming or running because of the drag his cock caused. He cannot be terribly clever because most of the blood is usually swirling around his tower of cock. He would have to take many breaks to read, especially erotic stories. Even if 15 can be considered a super power, he can never have a cool superhero name because all of them will sound funny. Nobody will want him in their superteam and he will end up doing straight to video porno and die a lonely death naked in the tub in some cheap motel after overdosing on a potent mixture of viagra, cialis and cocaine with cheap German porn repeating silently on the television.

I guess it's hard being a 15'er too. 

Poor chaps. 

Spare a kind thought for the 15s yah? They're human too. 

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Back to Basics

Ulu Yam
September 2008