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?

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.

u need MEGA panadol

Before the Crash

Phuket, Thailand

January 2007

Muzium Negara Bersifat Subversif!

Sign to Gallery D

Muzium Negara, Kuala Lumpur

26 January 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
animate
manifest
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

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.