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.

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.....

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

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?'

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.

Ciaoz.

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.

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. 

Back to Basics

Ulu Yam
September 2008