Year's End

It's that time of year again. When it all draws to a close, yet again. It's a time of feasting and dancing, and laughing and sales-hopping.

Sometimes I wonder if we lose ourselves in all the celebration and merriment so that we don't have to actually think about how another year has gone by. And how much faster time flies year by year.

So in between the frenetic festivities, I'm going to try and find a little time for myself and well, perhaps not exactly soul searching, but it might be good to do a little personal spring cleaning -
taking another look at the good times, putting behind the bad times, and let go of things that need letting go. Hopefully, lah!

I'm not one for resolutions - never any good with them. But at my age, it's probably a good idea to have a think about where I'm at and where I'm going. There's a lot to be done. I'll just have to take it one step at a time. And the turning of the year is always a good time to make that first step.

Anyway, hope everyone out there is enjoying the year end with all its specials. Here's a song to close the year with...

I'd like to build the world a home and furnish it with love
Grow apple trees and honey bees and snow-white turtle doves
I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony
I'd like to hold it in my arms and keep it company

(It's the song I hear) I'd like to teach the world to sing
(That the world sings today) In perfect harmony
I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony

New Seekers : I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing (In Perfect Harmony)

May the new year bring with it a little more joy, a pinch more of peace, and a whole lot more of love. Happy holidays, each and every one!

Apparently I've Been Misinterprating 'Local' All This While

In the news today - a supposedly upbeat piece about relaxing of rules for foreign ownership of property here. I have nothing against opening up of markets if it would lead to greater competition and better quality.

But wait. Here's what a minister had to say about ensuring local citizens remain protected:

... there will be protection for locals as there will still be bumiputra allocations and discounts.
Excerpt from The Star, 21 Dec 2006.

Forgive me if I don't find that reassuring. In fact, I feel quite the opposite. And it has nothing to do with foreigners buying property here.

It's just that I'm horribly concerned about my loss of recognition as a rightful citizen of the land I call home.

Almost Butch

Spent the past few days scouring the shops for a good drill. I meant the power tool. As in hardware. Oh never mind.

You'd think purchasing a drill would be some seriously butch thing that a guy bent on doing DIY home projects (and I don't mean crochet) would do. Well, I thought, anyway. But noooo, even under such cirumstances, the more... ahh... "celebratory" side of me insisted on surfacing.

-walks into store-

Hmmm... drills, drills... ah. Here we go. Let's see... boring, boring, pricey, dodgy...

Hey look at that one! Cordless drill. So cool. No pesky cables to get in the way of that ultra-butch look when I'm wielding it. And I can use it to drive screws too! Lord knows I have enough trouble trying to do that with my dainty hands.

Then again, it's battery operated. Probably ok for light work but would it drill a hole in the wall? I need more power. Like this one - 700 watts! Woah, like, what a monster, dude! Variable speed reversible, drill/drive/hammer, it's got the works for home use. Price isn't cheap, but not too bad either. Ah, no drill bits included. Have to think about this one.

Waitaminute. What's that?

-scurries over to next aisle-

Oooh. Butch toolboxes. *Gasp* Lookatthisone - check out it's size! So big! And solid! And strong! Oh oh... even got neat little compartments on the top to organise all the screws and nuts and nails (not the ones on your fingers lah). And the price is only... *choke*... Two. Hundred. Ringgit. For an empty, plastic toolbox.

-backs off quickly and goes back to the drills-

Hey, here's one. Low price. 500W - no bigass juice guzzling machine but respectable enough. Also VSR, drill/drive/hammer, etc... And it comes in a nice box to keep it in. Ooh and the box has a compartment on the top to store away my bits! And omg... accessories included! Accessories are good! I love accessories!

-out comes the credit card for the (lost count)-th time this month-

Hey, at least I didn't approach the store assistant, put one hand on my breast chest, and wave with the other (wrist limp and pinky extended), and go, "Boy! Boy! Oy! Now be a dear, will you, and get me one those... things... that go drrrrr..."

Hmmm... With the amount of posts in my blog lately that involve acts of indiscriminate shopping, I feel like I should somehow be hearing alarm bells ringing away (lots of them) and start being more (much more) thrifty with my expenses.

Then again, that constitutes a resolution. And resolutions can wait till January :P

[ haiku ]

serendipity
chance encounter led you here
sitting close by me

Stop! Slow Down Baby

Slow down baby
And don't act crazy
Don't you know you can look all you want but you just can't touch
Christina Aguilera : Slow Down Baby

There are times in a man's life when he just has to stop and smell the roses.

To cruise down the slow lane and enjoy the scenery.

To throttle down, lean back, and watch the world go by.

...

Damned run-in period and its abysmal speed limit.

Joy & Loathing In The Valley (A Really Small Perspective)

Joy:
Woke up late on a Monday morning. But no worries, it's a public holiday!
(:D

Loathing:
Spent half the morning of said holiday locked between the grille and my own front door.
>:(

My First Time

Somehow first times are mostly overrated. I mean, just how many people out there remember their first step on one foot, or their first word. And if ever those giant-leap moments were ever captured by ever-attentive parents on their ever-present camcorder, well, most of us would probably be embarassed to see that tape being pulled out year after year.

First kiss? First fuck? Well,undoubtedly memorable, but honestly, only the lucky ones have it memorable for the right reasons.

Still, every once in a while there comes really great first moments - like the first time I drove a car as a licensed driver, which was a pretty proud moment especially since I got my license earlier than most of my friends being a March baby and all.

Here's another 'first' to make it into my book of good memories:

After they’d lugged the components to my room, Skinhead and Younger Guy offered to put it together for me, which was not part of the deal. Naturally, I jumped at it and in short order, everything was set up.

“All we need is a bedsheet,” I said.

“No we don't,” said Skinhead with a wink. He proceeded to pull me to him, while Younger Guy – exhibiting no hesitation whatsoever – whipped off my shorts with remarkable skill. And for the next hour or so, in the name of research, we vigorously tested every part of the bed, from the headboard (strong) to the frame (sturdy) to the mattress (springy).

On that cold December morning, my new bed was christened over and over again.

In case you're wondering, that wasn't about the first bed I bought. In fact, it wasn't even my bed. That was my first Jay. Possibly the first blog I ever read, and what luck, it turned out to be one that was full of creativity, wit and gaily-skewed perspective. Definitely one of the best blogs I've been reading. And I've been reading it for a good two years now, which, by no coincidence whatsoever, has been almost the same amount of time I've been blogging.

Happy Blogiversary, Jay darling! It's been a fabulous two years with you around, no doubt about it ;-)

Anyone up for a 'My First Jay' meme? Consider yourselves tagged :-)

The Best Things In Life Are Free

But sometimes you just have to do that little bit of extra work to get it.

I'm talking about AVG Free - the software that finally made virus protection free to the masses. I use it because it's free, but I like it for other reasons as well.

1. It's a basic system, which means it's light. No additional features or heavy-duty, multi-featured, multiple-software-on-one-platform stuff, which eat up disk space, slows down the system, and makes startup godawfully sluggish.

2. It's fast (see Item 1). Also fast to download upgrades and new definitions over a broadband line - the whole process finishes itself in a jiffy which means you won't get bogged down by it.

3. It's non-obstrusive. A good security system should protect your computer as quietly as possible, rather than serving you with all sorts of pop-up alerts, pesky reminders and perhaps even crashing your PC.

I admit a free software probably would never be as good as one that you pay for, but hey, it's been working alright.

Recently, however, AVG has taken to sending occasional reminders to upgrade from the current version which would be taken off in about a month's time. Fine. Seems that I can upgrade to AVG Free 7.5, not like they're removing support for free software.

Here's the thing - clicking on the link takes you to AVG's site where you can get version 7.5. The paid version. So is there no free version of 7.5?

Actually, yes. They do have it. Just that it's off the main AVG site and in Grisoft's free software site. The tricky bastards. Good thing I sniffed around and found it.

So to those out there who are using AVG Free and are still wondering how to upgrade it to 7.5, here's the link to take you straight there.

http://free.grisoft.com/doc/5390/lng/us/tpl/v5#avg-anti-virus-free

Now everyone can play safe :-)

Eating Words (& Other Fun Stuff)

Sometimes, a long while isn't quite that long. Wasn't it just last week that I said I wasn't gonna bring my notebook out anytime soon?

Well, granted that I didn't know then that the PC Fair would be in town. So instead of bringing it to go sit in a cafe to (hopefully) attract the attention of gorgeous gymbag-toting technogadget-loving men of the same sex persuasion, I did the next best thing - I took my notebook shopping!

Must say I've never actually been to any PC Fair before this but this one's definitely huge and packed with people. Kinda felt like a kid let loose in a candy store. External hard drives! Flash drives! FM modulators! Printers! Sound systems! Cool cooling systems! They really do have everything in there - and many at pretty good prices too.

I was tempted to get a modulator, which is a kind of gadget that allows you to hook up a flash drive, fit the modulator into the car DC power supply (the part where there's a knob with a picture of a cigarette on it, though I don't know anyone, smokers included, who ever use that to light their cigarettes, much like there are still ashtrays in the car which are almost always used to keep coins, sweet wrappers and bits of fluff; but I digress...) and the modulator would then transmit a radiowave to your car so you can play all the music stuffed in your thumbdrive through your car radio. Who needs CD changers these days? A basic unit only costs less than $50 though the one that was priced over $100 had cool features like an LCD screen, song randomisation function, and yes, it looks real pretty.

I would have bought the basic unit. The only thing that stopped me was the fact I didn't buy it there and then, and believe me, backtracking to where you first found something you wanted isn't really an option.

What I did buy were some DVD-R's so that I could finally burn that FMA movie for my friends. And of course, to archive some of the more interesting movies I found, of questionable nature or otherwise. Ahem.

I also got my notebook a new companion in the form of a 2 GB flash drive. To think I can like, share a whole movie with my friends without having to burn a DVD. Hehe. Oh wait. So now I don't have to actually burn the DVDs for them? Erm.

The other thing I was considering was one of those all-in-one printers. The thing is, I don't really have anywhere to put it. Also, I barely use printers at home - maybe like once or twice a year. I've been getting by on the goodwill of people such as, well, Good Will, who was considerate enough the other day to be not in London or somesuchplace, when I had a very last minute printjob to execute. Well, that's what friends are for anyway.

In any case, that little consideration was thrown out the window the moment I found something better to throw my money at, namely this. I honestly didn't think I'd get a backpack of this quality for a price that's less than an all-in-one printer (and please don't tell me if I didn't get a good deal anyway, not after buying Absolute Sandman and seeing the book go on sale a few weeks later... and oh, the bag's cheaper than Absolute Sandman after discount so I'm taking that to be my consolation). It is a Targus after all, and it's really well-designed, what with plenty of storage and compartments and being all properly padded, the better to protect my notebook with, and all that.

So yes, my notebook now has a cool bag to travel in, you know, for all those times I'm not bringing it out.

Everybody say it together now: A gay and his money are soon parted!

Amen.

Surfing On Caffeine

They just sit there, hour after hour, staring at the screen in front of them, fingers sporadically tapping, tap-tap-tapping on the keyboards. Next to their machines, cups of something sit - perhaps a soy chai latte?

Enter the curious subculture of hotspot cafes. Geeks like me have finally been persuaded to abandon our insular lifestyle of surfing the net in our bachelor pads, alone with our generic crackers and home-made mugs of milo. Instead, we now brave a world of surfing the internet out in public, occasionally alone still, but with upgrades to imported chips and franchised frappucino. Geeks will now be more social, perhaps even chatting with some cute teenage girl named sweepea90, blissfully unaware that sweepea90's actually that geriatric man sitting two tables away.

OK, I admit I actually haven't quite taken to this brave new world yet. Back in the days when my PC was constrained to sitting on a desk, I pretty much liked the idea of sitting in a nice cafe all by myself, just reading a book. But in truth, I've only done that a couple of times. It would have been different if I was in Melbourne where the neighbourhood I lived in had great little cafes just a block away that served cheap lattes. Here in the valley, going to a decent cafe would mean driving half an hour through horrendous traffic. And so expensive to have a drink there some more!

So I guess my notebook won't be going out all that often, the poor thing. But at least it's had it's first outing the other day when I was hanging out with Jon. Of course, prim and proper people like us don't surf porn sites (at least not in public). No, we were expanding our knowledge and wisdom by catching up on international current events.

Ah, mi petit notebook. Hope you enjoyed that taste of fresh air. It'll be a while before you get it again. A long while.

Like... Hel-LOOO?

I have to say I gotta take my hat off to those people who can just walk up to total strangers and start hitting on talking to them. Seriously. It must take a lot of... something... to do that. Could be sheer guts. Or a really dense epidermis. Or even a total lack of disregard for personal boundaries.

Whatever it is, I definitely don't have it. Only once in my life have I ever asked a guy I barely know for his number. And that, only after weeks of bumping into him (a few of those times quite literally) and exchanging nods, smiles and brief exchanges of words too stilted to be conversations. Honestly, I blog better than I talk.

So yeah, when someone approaches me out of the blue, I won't just tell them to fuck off. I have, after all, been brought up to be polite and gracious. I'll allow for some half-hearted smiles. I'll even try not to roll my eyes (especially if you're drop-dead gorgeous). I might even open up to you if you were my type and you manage to make the right connection.

But please, if I've parried your attempts at invasive small talk by giving you barely audible monosyllabic grunts followed by the prompt sticking of my nose back into my book, for like, ten times already... then please take the hint and make a graceful exit, no harm done.

Understand this: An unwelcome advance is not an offense.

Persistent interruption of my reading is.

[ haiku ]

like petals adrift
upon the wake of the stream
life is but a dream

Gaiman. Dreambook. VERY Poor But Still Happy

Since the day I first stumbled upon Neil Gaiman's Sandman among the shelves of the Rowden White, I've known if there was any comic series to collect, this was it.

Well, many many years after, I've finally bought my first volume. Not the regular first volume, mind you, but the first Absolute volume. Drooool....

I just have one gripe about this, so let me get that out of the way - it's fucking expensive! It practically costs double the normal collection, which, by the way, already costs more than other collected comic series. Man, when I say I'm paying for my indulgence, I mean it literally!

Yes, as Will had said, that's the whisper of very expensive pages.

So why did I part with my money so easily?

Other than the obvious 'fool' answer, of course.

The long explanation is this: This is definitely a collector's item, and being one of those many out there who consider this work as one that has taken the comics genre up to the hallowed status of literature, I simply had to have it.

The Sandman is oooh so good. With a great depth of emotion, layered storytelling, fantastic plot twists, and strands of world mythology weaved into something totally new, Gaiman did for comics what Tolkien did for the fantasy novel (though I kinda hate how he inadvertently started the whole trilogy thing which seems to be multiplying like rabbits).

I could go on and on, really. But either you already know of Gaiman or you don't, and if you don't, you could go sample Sandman by downloading the 1st issue for free here. Mind you, Sandman #1 was all about setting up the story and it's not nearly as good as what follows.

Besides being one of the best stories ever told (in my opinion, but it's also my blog so my opinion's the only thing that matters here), it's also packaged very nicely. Like, to make you think you're getting value for money and all that. And yes, in case it wasn't clear enough in my last post, I really am a sucker for pretty things.

Absolute Sandman Volume 1 really is as heavy as the name would suggest. Quality paper bound in a hardcover reminiscent of my mom's Encyclopedia Britannica set. A slip cover to protect the cover - it may only be cardboard but it's really thick cardboard. It's a wonder they didn't throw in a plastic sleeve to protect the slip cover - now that would be value for money!

To impress the collector even more, they've recolored it. And thrown in Gaiman's original proposal, evolution sketches of the look for Sandman, and the script for the award-winning Issue #19 with the original pencilling by the very good Charles Vess, who also did Gaiman's Stardust (check out his work for Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall).

So yeah, that was my long-winded explanation for getting the book.

Here's the short version - I'm a whore!

single tenant of a double bed

half-asleep
a hand slips under the corner of
a vacant pillow
feeling the weight of an absent head
waiting
to warm the curve of that neck
one morning (hopefully) soon

fingers missing the clutch of yours
they dream
of the warmth and the calm they’ll find
nestled snug in your palm
half-awake
oh how they ache for the return of
that tender grasp

Gayman. Toybook. Poor But Happy

And finally, ye olde desktoppe, being of the thirde in the generations of Pentium, hath croaketh.

And what lousy timing it was.

I knew it was time to replace my computer. I've had it for seven years, and the coming of XP way back when had already made it outdated as it was. The advent of dual-core simply ensured it was obsolete. Besides, you know your computer's expiring when it has to go for annual hospitalisation.

So yes, I've been gearing myself up to buy a new computer but I was holding out for the year-end promotions. No such luck, though. Last week, my PC decided not to start. At all. I turn on the power, the CPU energises, then... nothing. Not even the bloody initialisation screen which shows the processor and RAM details.

Don't ask me what happened. Since I was going to get a new computer anyway, I never bothered to send the old one in for a check. I think the motherboard or the processor gave out or something. Come to think of it, my computer gave up on the same day I had brought K's spanking new HP Pavillion over to my place to finish up some stuff Jon, Jaq and I had been working on... Maybe my computer had simply expired out of embarrassment.

So anyway, that was why I had to spend a whole week offline - my PC was down and I was busy shopping for a laptop. After looking around, getting opinions from friends (which ended being so varied it didn't help me very much), and of course, checking specs and prices, I finally settled for this baby:

The Compaq Presario V3119AU

Here's what made up my mind:

1. It's the best value-for-money notebook in the market right now. None of the other branded notebooks gave specs as good as this one for RM3000. I'd probably find cheaper deals next month but I really couldn't wait for that now, could I?

2. I got to upgrade the RAM to 1 GB for a pittance.

3. It's... so... PRETTY!!!

Okay, so #3 would have ensured my buying it even without the advantage of #2. And maybe even without the good sense of #1.

But I'm sure anyone would understand. After all, it really is lovely for a mid-range notebook (and lovelier than some of those costing twice as much).

So, Jay, NOW I can go sit in a cafe and bum off their wifi to update my blog :-)

And The Heavens Did Give My Car A Good Wash Today

On the other hand, it was hell manouvering through a 10-kilometer, three-lane car wash with about a thousand other cars in there at the same time.

Back On The Blog

Rancangan tergendala seketika. Harap maaf.

Due to unforseen circumstances (to borrow the words from an announcement at the gym last weekend that saw the place being evacuated), I've been kept offline for a whole week. Okay, so it's just one week. But it felt like a lifetime!

Worse than coming off ciggies, I tell you.

It wasn't all that bad though. Shopping and gymming kept me busy enough. And I happened to have a really good book to keep me company through those lonely nights. In a way, it was kinda nice to spend the nights listening to whisper of turning pages rather than to the click of the keyboard, for a change.

But I'm so happy to be back now, because (as Will would know) it implies something more than just getting back in touch.

More about that later. There's too much to do right now - email to check, blogs to read, stuff to download, anonymous online personas to flirt with...

Be back soon ;-)

dislocation (heartache)

Something about angles that dangle
in isometric triangles
And now I'm in a tangle
'cos Teacher asked me something
(and I slept while she was talking).

The bell rings - I'm saved!
My indiscretions waived.
"You owe me," Teacher said,
but I was off to home and (more importantly)
bed.

To do or not to do
my homework after school?
Or do I heed the call
To lepak in the mall?

What to wear? How do I look?
Do I look like I bought off a pasar malam hook?
Should I care if they look at me funny?
Not as long as no one laughs at me.

In the mall it's a regular carnival.
The girls watch the boys who stare at other girls.
See couples on parade, hand in sticky hand;
The rich (and not-so-rich) kids flash their fashion brands.

Hi there, how are you? Oh, hi! So, so.
Here with somebody? Well, actually... no.
Heh heh. Goodbye, Then they speed away.
Lonely and embarrassed, what a perfect day.

Home again, home again, jigetty jig.
Father's looking furious, must be something big.
My report card, oh oh, looks as if he's seen it.
Guess it's time to face hell for three hours and a bit.

"Everyday you sit around, watch TV and you laze.
How do you expect to make it through this paper chase?
You throw away chances I did not have, to do what I could not do."
Only he doesn't realize, I never wanted to.

I'm sorry I wasn't born to live your life again
To make the choices you did not make
To dream the dreams you did break

Who am I? Where am I going?
Why so hard to heed my heart's yearning?
What do I want in life? Where do I belong?
What is right and what is wrong?

What is wrong you ask?

It is wrong to speak when not spoken to
It is wrong to be spontaneous, out of the blue
It is wrong to be wild, wrong to be mad,
Wrong to fail and make you look bad

It is wrong to dream, wrong to be angry
Wrong to scream out my soul's agony
Wrong to harbour a child's ambitions
Against your hopes and expectations

So simple, too simple, it would be to slip and trip
and stumble and fall
Off the top of a tall, tall...
"GOODBYE ONE AND ALL!"
then thud... then blood... then
nothing at all.

Forgive me

though what I say is true.
Do I disappoint you?

The morning comes, a new dawn breaks.
One more day of heartache.

the spider speaks out

There once was a lady of epic proportions,
Who'd heave and puff with the slightest of motions.
And, I, the narrator,
a humble Spider,
Find her stomach as wide as the oceans

Sometimes she'd say (with genteel dismay),
"Mah name's not 'Muffet', it's Moo-feyh!"
Hearing her grumble,
I'd always mumble,
"Yes, it sounds just like 'buffet'"

Her critics had called her dastardly;
From spiders like me she was supposed to flee.
But I disagree,
It's simple you see.
Get off her fat arse? Not she.

There once was a girl as wide as a tree,
Whose curds and whey made her no less hungry
'Twas a mistake, one day,
I had wanted to play;
Now I spend my remaining life in her belly.

Breathing Clean: One Year, And Still Breathing

To think it's been a year now. 365 days. And still counting.

I think I deserve pats on the back.

;-)

Have You Hugged A Tree Today?

It's amazing how things add up. Day in and day out, you're reading newspapers, scribbling notes, watching your bills pile up, and one day you realise - hey, the bloody stack of papers have grown almost as tall as you are! To be not-too-precise, about 1.6 m high and 90 kg heavy. The pile of old newspapers, not me.

I think there's enough paper in there to make a tree, don't you?

I kinda feel sorry for trees now. But unfortunately, I love my written pages more than reading words on a phosphor screen, even if I had to fork out $60 for a comic I could download for free. Perhaps it's time I got rid of that little prejudice of mine. Think about it - save the trees while saving money. And since our money is made of paper, I guess saving money can help save more trees too!

Anyway, I bundled up the old papers, and with many a heave and a grunt, brought it all to my car (although not before attempting to take some arty shots of old newspapers - yes, I'm a shutterwhore, but one who's uses digital photographs rather than printed ones so I'm not consuming more trees there). I then drove out to a junkyard to scrap it all. Just like that, that humongous pile of papers was suddenly reduced to two measly pieces of paper...

And they call this recycling? Shouldn't I be getting an equivalent amount of dollar bills in weight or even volume? Grrr. Save the trees, I tell myself, save the trees....

Of Spit Bubbles And Baby Babble

Having a baby in the house definitely changes the dynamics of the family. For one thing, while I still call my mom and dad, "Mom" and "Dad" (well to be honest I use Chinese versions rather than those), my mom has taken to calling me "Uncle". And she calls my brother "Daddy".

Oh fuck. It sounds really wrong now that I've actually put it down in words... -shudder-

And does the baby call us that? Of course not. She's still learning her blabber. Right now her vocab consists of "babababa" and "umumumum" and the spluttering "brrbrrrbrrbrrrbrr" when she finds a teaspoon of water in front of her lips. What she's actually trying to say (if she's saying anything at all) is anybody's guess.

Sometimes, in the absence of water in teaspoons, she accumulates enough saliva to blow spit bubbles instead. We watch her do it and laugh. She's a baby. She's allowed to be infantile.

The world certainly does revolve around a new baby. As one of my cousins had remarked, "If you wondered where everyone in the house went, just look for the baby."

Sure enough. Everyone would inevitably surround the baby. Watching her sleep. Watching her play. Watching her laugh. Watching her eat her baby goo. Watching her look around at everybody.

But what to do? She is simply adorable! I know I'm sounding like a biased uncle but well, have a look for yourself ;)

Morning, Mmm Mmm Mmm

There are days when I manage to pull myself out of bed early enough to take a little time to sit down at the coffeeshop and have a morning meal before I head into the office. I like doing that. The morning's still early enough not to be hot, and the air is about as fresh as it can get - though I wouldn't ask for too much, considering I live in a city built in a valley, and especially not in these times of horrifyingly humid haze. But I digress...

There is something nice and nostalgic about sitting down in a freshly pressed shirt to enjoy freshly prepared breakfast. Reading news fresh from the day's papers. Sipping on a hot cup of fresh kopi o. Served with a cute, fresh-faced brown-skinned foreign boy.

...

Oh.

I meant "by". Served by.

Ahem.

Yes, it's always nice to have a fresh start on a new day. Pity how often it just goes downhill from there.

Happy*

Sometimes, it is enough to tell oneself so.

Faking it with conviction, hard enough for long enough, and perhaps one may just convince oneself that it is indeed true.

Sometimes it is enough. But only just sometimes.

happy

Life is filled and thus fulfilled
with belts and scarves and silver rings;
with all the finer frills of life
and the company of pretty things.

Seventy shirts in myriad colours
speak of skin-deep joy;
ticks or stripes on shorts and shoes
bring out the inner boy.

A bright latte can make the day
as could a choc-banana cake.
Ice-cream just about anywhere, anytime,
splendidly sooths the soul's ache.

Life is filled and thus fulfilled,
bought with every last dime of pay.
"Happy, I'm happy," I hear myself say,
hoping I'd believe it one fine day.

Lovely Days

Oh how lovely day! The prefect ambient of romantic air with the shrouderly smog. Little friends! Let's outgoing for gay play.

Just spent the last four days driving around Johor. I can definitely report that the haze does not discriminate. It stretches from the central valley all the way to the southern straights. Admittedly, it's less thick down in the south. But I didn't quite appreciate driving around in such conditions, my little attempt at writing a pencil case saying as above notwithstanding.

Here's how it looked on the way down, Monday:

Putrjaya, API ~170


Seremban, API ~170


Malacca, API ~100


Johor Bahru, API ~70

Well, to take a break from the monotony of the haze, I decided to change the hazardous driving conditions around a bit the next day. OK, so I didn't decide it, it just happened.

And what happened was a sudden downpour. Actually it was more of a sidepour, the way the wind was gusting. Yes, the whole braches-falling-and-roof-tiles-flying works.

Oh, please! It's just a.. a drizzle!

Well good thing the drizzle didn't last too long because I had to go venture off the well-tarred road and onto hard dirt.

Just red earth and stones and oil palms. Lots and lots of oil palms.


The dirt road went on for miles and miles and miles...


26 kilometers, to be exact. ONE WAY.

Incidentally, I was already halfway to a national park by the time I hit my destination.

Anyway, fun as it was driving and breathing in all that haze, I'm glad to be back. It's still hazy but at least I don't have to spend entire days driving through it. They say it will clear up soon. They'd better be right. For once.

the blame of moonlight and music

caught in the wake of a glance
a smile chanced on a smile
sight lacked light, but hands
soon had found their way

introduction: this is
lip and ear and chest; meet
touch and scent and taste

two boys claiming a crescendo
entwined in a motion
where thigh grazes thigh then
grazes thigh again. lash
touching lash
questing, questioning
what happens next?

caught in the swell of a song
word tangled upon word
heart lacked voice, but hands
soon had found their way

translation: this is
finger, thumb and palm; mean
want and hope and warmth

two chords claiming a crescendo
entwined in emotion
where eye grazes eye then
grazes eye again. knee
touching knee
questing, questioning
what happens next?

The Phantasmanaut

We were parked at the job site, half of the work team outside, doing whatever it was they were doing. Another colleague sat in the pilot's seat.

"Wanna try driving this thing?" he asked.

Well, hell yeah.

So, in our mirrored helmets and silvery suits, we got the space pod aloft and flew around the surface of the moon.

You'd think the moon would be a cold and desolate place. Actually, it was busy. Real busy. Rows of shops clustered in the business centres, many of them coffeeshops or mamak restaurants with their bright unimaginative signboards, all packed with the supper crowd that spilled into the streets and the alleyways. Of course it was a supper crowd. It was always midnight on this side of the moon.

Which was when I realised something was really odd. I mean, here I was in my nifty space pod, dressed in my fabulous spacesuit, yet out there were a hundred or more people talking and laughing and eating their maggi mee goreng or roti pisang, and wearing nothing but their pasar-malam-purchased t-shirts (or singlets) and shorts. What about oxygen? Is it not way below freezing? No need protection from radiation meh?

Oops. Been dreaming way past my wake-up call again. Damn.

Strange how it was that I dreamed of being out there. Like, way out there. Was it all the travelling I've been doing? Could it be that some subconscious part of me misses site supervisory work? Maybe it's a premonition about our nation's first astronaut (hopefully the poster boy, of course) having to endure space without roti canai? Or Wingedman's frequent chatter about flight stimulation simulation?

Maybe it's a sign it's time to take a break and get away. Far, far away.

Oh Look. Still Him

Once in a while I get desperate enough for some reading material, any reading material, while I have my lunch that I'd actually resort to buying a mag not printed for the sole purpose of showing off hot men. So I picked up a local rag today that I do read every once in a while because they do unearth some pretty cool things every now and then. Of course, mags like these would more likely feature some hot women than a hot male.

Or so I thought.

From the Oct 2006 issue of KLue

And by hot male, I didn't mean Kenny (no offense, but...).

Well, I guess it really is cool to be gay. But we already knew that, didn't we? ;-)

Are You Ready?

If you said "Jump!", I'd say "How high?"
If you said "Run!", I'd run and fly
Just for the chance, just for the moment
Should the moment pass us by
Debbie Gibson : We Could Be Together

Oops. Wrong jumping song. Blame it on Jono for singing it in my car the other night. Between us, we have this unenviable ability to drag the 80's kicking and screaming back to life.

Then again, it was also Jono who told me about this latest video.

Nah. Here's the right one. Click the pic to see the preview ;-)


Talk about "fairification". The mama's looking like a piece malleable porcelain!

Kicking Off The Final Quarter

How bazaar. With the numerous seasonal stalls set up beneath the blaze of the evening sun, sizzling and simmering with such delicacies like ayam percik, murtabak, and char kuey tiao, I could, for a tiny moment, imagine the limited visibility on my drive home was due to the sheer volume of aromatic smoke rising from the grilling of innumerable fats. Alas, no. It was the damned haze.

BodyBalance #34. They said this release wasn't so difficult. They neglected to mention the 8 agonising minutes of standing strength.

BodyJam #38. Honestly, I'm not that much of a diehard BodyJammer. Having said that, I'm loving this release more than I'm liking the latest BodyBalance. Fun fun fun!

BodyAttack #54. Haven't done this yet. Hope to find the time for it soon. Meantime, I hear one of the tracks will feature Hung Up - a timely reminder that the past twelve months were indeed The Year of Madonna.

Zoom. Don't ask me why but I've been watching one brainless movie after another. Saves me from having to think, I guess. This latest one is probably the dumbest one yet. Still, it's bimbo-ically funny (or painfully annoying, depending on how you see it) to see little Ryan Newman in her role (yes, Ryan's a girl) as the superstrong six-year old who alternates between frilly pink costumes and fluffy pink costumes. Her "I'm a Princess!" declaration was uncannily similar to dear Princess Willa's. Perhaps the tiny terror sought coaching from our HRH?

Kittybrick. The newest craze courtesy of the evil breeders at McD's. Bearbrick does Hello Kitty in an unholy cross-species coupling, or simply Pussy in Disguise?

Escape Procedure #141

Here's the scenario:

You just finished your morning ablutions in the toilet of your hotel room. You wash up, dry your hands and turn the knob on the door. Nothing happens. You turn it again, in the opposite direction. Still nothing happens.

There is a gap in the door. Enough to see the door jamb. Enough to see it doesn't retract when you turn the knob.

Great.

You can't call for help. No one will hear. Not by phone either. You don't have yours with you. Nor is there one in the bathroom. Obviously this isn't some fancy five-star hotel that would bring wine up while you soak in the bathtub.

Can't wait for housekeeping to come in to clean up and find you banging your head on the bathroom door either. You'd latched and bolted the room door the night before. Nobody's coming in, not without a chainsaw. Or a sledgehammer.

So what do you do? Here's what.

1. Look for a long, thin, metal object.

First thing that came to mind was one of those ear-pick thingies. Or even a tweezer. I have those. It's in my grooming kit (yes, I do have one though, to be honest, I use it less than a respectable gay man ought to). That's the good news.

Bad news: the grooming kit's in my suitcase. Along with my Swiss Army knife - which would also be terribly useful right now. But the suitcase is not inside the toilet, where I'm currently stuck in. Of course.

Everything else metallic in the bathroom consists of taps, rails and hooks. All too big to fit into the gap between the door and the frame. Not that I could actually remove them with my bare hands anyway.

2. Look for a long, thin, any-kind-of-material object.

Well, forget about twisting up pieces of toilet paper la. Or using the plastic straw from one of the spray bottles containing my personal, personal care effects.

The toothbrush then. Hey, it's a good fit! But too good - it won't get behind the jamb and move it. Shit.

3. At this point, it's time to consider breaking the door knob off.

I could do that. Granted, I'm not a (very) violent person, nor have I been paying enough attention to Body Pump to twist the damn thing off with one pull. But I could manage it. Eventually. With lots of banging, thumping and kicking.

Sigh.

Can't I not resort to destruction of property? More importantly, can't I not resort to bruising my pretty hands?

4. Like, what other options do you have?

Hmm... I could wiggle something round the jamb and pull it open. Like a wire or a rope.

Or the drawstring on my shorts. With some help from my toothbrush.

Voilà! Liberté!

The lesson learnt? Keep your head cool during times of crisis and one need not resort to petty violence to solve a problem.

That, and it pays to bring your grooming kit with you into the bathroom.

Verily, vanity prevails over violence.

Eating My Way Up

Warning: This post may not be suitable for those who are currently hungry and without immediate access to food; or those Malaysians who have been living overseas for way too long :P

My latest trip to the northern states proved to be a food odyssey of sorts. I ended up taking pictures of almost everything I ate. Don't know what the locals must have thought as I surreptitiously took photos of my meals with my phone. Here are the pictures...

Duck noodles froom Bidor. Wouldn't make a detour off the main road just to taste this but it's good enough to stop by if you're in the area. Love the herbal soup!

I had a photo of the Ipoh kai si hor fun but it's gone now. Must have accidentally deleted it. The best ever hor fun I've had was in Ipoh - and I don't normally like the stuff. Unfortunately, the one I had this round wasn't even nice. So losing the pic wasn't a big loss la.

One of the first things I had in Penang. Char kuey tiao. A definite must have!

Penang nasi kandar. Pretty good stuff. This one's from the Pelita franchise.

When Jay said I should go for Penang laksa, I had this. For midnight supper, no less. The curry soup wasn't bad, though having chunks of pig blood floating around in it made it rather dodgy. The hawker centre was amazingly packed, even at that late hour in the middle of the week. Guess Penangites must really enjoy eating!

It was only about an hour later that I remembered that curry mee was not Penang laksa! Darn, another meal to be added back into my list.

Nasi kandar again! My pal Jono told me that I simply had to eat at least once at Line Clear, so I googled up the name and found that it was only about a block away from where I was holed up. Of course I had to try! The food is pretty good, with the curries being more subtle in flavour compared to the usual overpoweringly poppy-laced curries most nasi kandar places serve up.

Now THIS is penang laksa! The laksa was good, but I love the retro-style bowl it was served up in even more :)

This one's on behalf of Louis - Hokkien mee, aka Penang prawn noodles. Mind you, I had to eat both this and the penang laksa above for a single lunch just to fit it all into my schedule. I'm kinda glad I didn't get more suggestions about what I should eat :P

And you thought I ought to have eaten enough. But when I got back to the valley, I decided I should have yet another 'local' specialty - Kajang satay. Thank goodness I didn't have to drive all the way to Kajang to get this.

Of course, I also bought stuff back to fatten everyone else up share in the pleasures. So like some demented cross between Santa and Chef Wan, I ended up distributing Tapah guavas and Penang tau sar peah to cousins, colleagues and friends. Munch munch munch.

Sometimes, travelling for work really isn't that bad at all :P

[ haiku ]

sit on summer grass
i bask in glorious noonshine
a bird shat on me

The Cities Of The North

It seems like much of the travelling I do these days is for work. I was visiting Ipoh and Penang a week ago. Tomorrow, I'll be off again - this time, to a "peaceful" land (read what you will into that).

Now, all this travelling for work may sound like some fancy jetsetting life but trust me, it's far from it. First of all, I barely go anywhere by flying. And when I do, it's ALWAYS by budget air. Secondly, there's nothing fancy about my destinations. Penang is probably the best place I can look forward to visiting. And of course, travelling for work is really about work. So there's no such thing as going sightseeing and such except for whatever I might be able to squeeze into the evenings.

So it was that my trip to Ipoh was packed with meetings. Across half the state, in fact. Definitely didn't have time to stop for any sights, natural or otherwise. I decided to spend the night in the refurbished station. Poor choice, because the rooms weren't as refurbished as the exterior. Of course, if dodgy uncles roaming the garden outside your window is your kind of thing, then you may like it for it's erm... convenience. For me, I was left to wonder where the famously smooth-and-white-as-tofu-skinned boys of Ipoh had all gone to. Probably KL. Tsk tsk.

I kinda wished I had just gone ahead to Taiping for the night. The air's fresher there, and the food is not only good, it's amazingly cheap. Maybe next time, then.

Penang was more of a dissapointment, workwise. I spent a good deal of time running around, rescheduling and ultimately getting ffk-ed (stood up) by half of the people I had made appointments with. Horrible manners, these people of the North. So having to deal with all this meant that I only had time to hunt for DVDs. And eat. And buy tau sar peah. And eat. And go for body attack, body balance, and body jam. And eat. And catch up with my ex-housemate. And eat. And eat. And eat.

Hey, one still has to eat while one's at work, no?

Coming up next: What I ate

Never Was A Cloudy Day

Do you remember the 21st night of September?
Earth Wind And Fire : September

To be honest, I don't have a very good memory. Facts and figures from my history books just slide off my brain cells like water off a duck's back. I tend to remember concepts better. And the tales of the Ainulindale and the Quenta Silmarillion (even though they're arguably from a history book as well). Oh and song lyrics dating all the way back to the '80s.

This is one of the primary reasons why I blog. I do remember many of the events of my life, though I would hardly be able to say how long ago it happened. Blogging to me is really a way of keeping my own little Book of Records. It does help. At least now I can put a timeline to what I've been through. Or at least what I've gone through since the start of 2005.

Take for example, a year ago. Thanks to blogging, I remember exactly where I was that day, what I did, and what kind of place I had to be winched down into. I remember hitting the gym for a quick shower that evening, and catching an eyeful of, erm, whatever it is people would catch an eyeful of in the showers of one the most notorious gyms in the valley. I even remember the exact condition of my skin that day.

I remember dinner. What I ate, who I ate with. I don't remember what is was we talked about (because I didn't blog about it). But I do remember that we laughed as much as we ate - which was a lot.

And I remember this - it was a fine day. A happy day. A very happy day.

Drowned Glass, Reincarnate

I ask you, do you want to come and play?
Get the world to come and play.
So sit back, relax, fasten your seatbelts!
It's going to be a bumpy ride
To the other side...
Christina Aguilera : Enter The Circus

He takes a breath, drawing in the scent of evening air cleared by the late shower. Clean. Fresh. Alive. He takes a look about himself, appraising the lay of the land. Above the far horizon, the twilight bends, breaking into an arc of fragmented colors.

He sits. He smiles. He has come home.

Ah, the feeling of laying new ink on a fresh page. Alright. So it's actually the tapping away on the keyboard, making words materialise on a freshly reloaded screen. But the gist of it is there. It's the start of something new. Or, in this case, the continuation of something familiar in a new place.

There once was a blog called drowned glass. It's still there (at least for now). But I don't blog there anymore. Sometimes, a guy just needs to move on. And this is where I've moved to.

New blog, new name, still the same gay old me. Don't expect me to be any wiser than I've been. Or wittier. Or whatever-er. I'm just here to record my days in the hope of seeing where I've been, to get an inkling of where I'm going. If you care to come along for the ride, you're most welcome. I accept constructive comments, friendly gestures, fabulous gifts and most major credit cards (though cash is always preferred).

Ready? Then here we go!

Prelude: Grrr

Finally all the features I needed to get this going are here.

But now I can't move the blog to my original address!

-drums fingers-

Who Are The Angels?

38kia
adrien
airswift
aj
alex
arqsim
brian chang
canardbidon
candid cuisine

danielhenry
daqdude
darn ed
eugeneooi
geekchic
janvier
joery
joshua

khalel
kiamkana
kit
legolas
lifebook
louis
magusyoung
makemeinthemood
maxius
mrbunnyban

nickkiest
onegayboy
osman
queer ranter
quik!
qwazymonkey
rpmnut
ryan|beautifulmale
ryan|fabulouslycheap

sam
savante
shigeki
slutilla
superbaby
the nurse
thompsonboy
wandernut
william
wingedman