devotee

strip me down and leave me bare
upon my knees suppliant
lips shall savour the roll of your name as
my tongue is tortured
under its breadth
carry me high upon your passion
‘til i taste a touch of heaven
and your angels stream down, warm and white
such the mechanics
of your ecstatics
taking me down
tying me up
leaving me breathless and
in bondage

Paradise (Not For Me)

Autour de moi
Je ne vois pas
Qui sont des anges
Surement pas moi
Madonna

It's still January. And already I'm feeling the tedium. Being shipped to the land of nothing happening for a week can do that. Helped along by a 3 hour postponement to my return flight (be thankful it's not an overnighter), thanks to Air Delaysia.

But oh, just when I thought I've made it back when along came the cab ride from... well, heaven.

We had barely left the airport when the cab driver turned to me and asked me how I performed my evening prayers in the plane.

Like... what?

My brain, all addled with lack oxygen, struggled to determine if I heard him right. After he repeated himself twice more, I realised his mistake.

"Oh, no... no...," I explained, "I'm not a Muslim."

But it didn't matter anyhow. I was in his cab, and I was in his mercy. Or perhaps in his God's mercy. I'm sure that's what he thought, that near-fanatic, chauvinistic zealot (beautiful women are filled with sin, as are singers - I was tempted to ask him about nasyid, but decided I shouldn't encourage him - and footballers; probably there'll be a special purgatory for JLo). I suppose he simply sees it as his duty and blessing to be able to preach to all his customers while they're helplessly stuck in his vehicle, but I'm honestly tired of people who have no respect of other people's beliefs.

Spare me your paradise. I just want to go home.

Matching Maids

Aunties. Is there some auntie gene or something that makes them totally pantang (taboo) when it comes to seeing an eligible young man (or worse, an eligible not-so-young man)? Some sort of primal matchmaking instinct that inevitably kicks in, compelling them to spread the news out into their formidable network of aunties in search of a suitable mate for the poor fellow?

Honestly, when I had gone through an entire wedding banquet without That Question (or That Other Question) popping up, I thought I finally would not have to deal with it. For life. Ah, such wishful thinking. A guy my age really should know better.

But how was I to even expect being accosted by a well-meaning neighbour about an hour before my own aunt's funeral procession, and be told that she knows someone who knows this other someone who has a pretty daughter about my age who is still single and very available and wouldn't I like to have her number so I can ask her out one fine day?

At which point another auntie (a cousin of my mom's) pulled me aside and gave me this beautiful piece of advice:

"Just go out with her and get to know her. Who knows, maybe you'll hit it off with her. They say she looks mixed. You look mixed, she looks mixed, wouldn't it be nice if the two of you got together and made pretty babies?"

Like... what?

I politely laughed (as politely as any dismissive laugh could be) and didn't take the number offered.

Now I'm thinking maybe I should have accepted that number after all. Meet up with this "exotic" looking lady, have dinner, share a laugh over what the aunties said, then slip her the fact that I'm gay. It'd be fun.

And who knows, I may then actually have my own fag hag. A different kind of match than the aunties would have hoped for, but a match, nevertheless :-P

No Matter How Far Or How Wide I Roam

I love travel. I love going to new places, seeing different things. But honestly, I'd give that up for the chance to go back to a place where I spent four wonderful years of my life. Yep, I'm willing to forgo New York, Paris and London - just give me Melbourne! Well, ok... give me London and Melbourne, if that's not asking too much :-P

I never really entertained the thought of a trip back there before, simply because the airfare would leave me too broke to even grab a cab from Tullamarine to the city. But now, with a new long haul budget airline on the horizon, maybe I can finally do this - it'll still take months of eating instant noodles and refraining from shopping, but at least it's gone from pure fantasy to possible dream now. And yes, I do realise I'll have to suffer 8 hours of ubereconomy travel (aka kamikaze-cattle class), but I guess I do want this badly enough.

In the meantime, I'm not gonna be counting my chickens before they hatch. But I'm perfectly willing to count somebody else's chickens...

Genieqt left me a note asking for recommendations on where to go while in Melbourne. Unfortunately, the last time I was in Melbourne, it was in the summer of '99. A long time, no doubt. Since then, my uni's been upgrading and expanding, Federation Square was built, and who knows how many other things have cropped up.

So for those who are in Melbourne now, or who were recently there, any tips on what a tourist rombongan of 10 adults, 2 toddlers and 1 babe (I'm hazarding a guess here but I'd say they're straight) might get up to while in Melbourne? Comments would be most appreciated :-)

questions for an abandoned toothbrush

why do you sit here still?
behind the toothpaste and the razor
is it that you find the company of my toothbrush
endearing, though you might envy it?
what is it that you dream about
in the wee hours of each morning?
are you waiting for him to remember you
and find his way back home?

do you miss the scent of mint on his breath?
do you even remember that?
it's been one hundred and seventy one days since
he had walked out on you and i
does your heart quicken at the sound of
footsteps approaching the door?
only to find it's me and never him
and it's never him anymore

why do you sit here still?
believing he would want you back
as another sun sets, would you wonder if
he thinks of you (though you know he doesn't)?
and would you ever forgive me
if i took you away? i really ought to
for what hope is there he might remember you
and find his way back home?

Brand New Year, Same Old Me

Two weeks into '07 and I'm actually getting a start into the new year. Things have been a little out of whack lately but now I'm finally settling back into my routine - which really consists of little more than shuttling between work, gym and home... and of course, the occassional shopping.

And then it struck me - routines are just so... routine! To steal a line from a chick called Babs, "Me life flashed before me eyes... it was boring!"

I never thought I'd be stealing epiphanies from a claymated chicken with the brains of a... chicken.

Maybe I shouldn't be in a hurry to get back into routine so soon. Hmm... isn't Chinese New Year around the corner? I think I'll go start making more plans I'll never see through :P

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special
Creep : Radiohead

Bid Safe Journey

In loving memory
7 January 2007

I love to go a-wandering along the mountain track
And as I go, I love to sing, my knapsack on my back

Long Days, Longer Nights

Is it bright where you are
Have the people changed
Does it make you happy you're so strange
And in your darkest hour, I hold secret's flame
You can watch the world devoured in its pain
The Smashing Pumpkins : The End Is The Beginning Is The End

Away from the usual bustle of year-end parties, the changing of the year suddenly seemed long and drawn out. I suppose the end of 2006 for me was something quite different. After all, it ended with a beginning. And by the time the new year began, an end was coming close.

On the eve of the eve, I crawled out of bed at the ungodly hour of five. In the morning! After a long, slow drive back to my hometown the day before. After several straight beers with several straight mates, only four hours before.

The mission - head on down south with the boys, cross the border, abduct a girl from her home (after bartering with her sisters and crashing the doors), ferry her to my hometown, and make her serve tea to her new family. In case you're wondering, this is how Chinese get married.

Not entirely difficult, but I was worn out by the end of the day, what with the incessant travelling and all. Oh, but it wasn't over. After all, when the sun sets, the wedding banquet begins. What can I say that isn't already known? Greasy food, lots of beer. Let those who enjoy talking talk. I sat there, shovelling food into my mouth (when there was food on the table) and just tuned into various conversations around the table. Thankfully, everyone seems to have tired of asking That Question. Or That Other Question, come to think of it.

The dinner ended before midnight, and most of the others adjourned somewhere to continue their drinking - sans bride and groom (obviously the absence of the guests-of-honour will not deter them from toasting the happy couple... repeatedly).

I, on the other, made a visit to the hospital to see my aunt. It was new year's eve by then.

I think I went to bed after one. I know I woke up about 4:30 in the morning. My mother had called me from the hospital. It was bad. I should get the rest of the family over. Immediately.

It was bad. She was clearly in pain. But still she managed to call for us, and gasp out whatever she had to say for each of us - her sister, her children, her grandchildren. Prepared as we were, it was still quite a painful morning for all of us. I'm only glad that I could be useful in little ways, running errands and such. It was easier having something to do, and it gave my cousins that little more time with their mother.

By midday, however, she had stabilised. She seemed calmer, more relaxed. Perhaps it was knowing she had seen everyone she wanted to see. Perhaps it was knowing she had said all she wanted to say. Perhaps it was the sedatives.

For the rest of the days there, my time was divided between home and hospital. I was either eating (my family eats whenever and wherever we gather, no matter the circumstance), sleeping (or half-sleeping), or reading. I had brought two books back with me - Eldest (which I had bought quite some time back, and forgot I haven't read until I after I watched Eragon), and Coraline (a buttony-cute horror story, also a Christmas present from Will - thanks!).

Tired as I was, I barely put down my books - even to sleep. So it was when I turned the last page of Eldest, I looked up to check the time. It was midnight. It was a new year. My brother had already left, sending his wife and baby back to their home. My parents were already asleep. I felt like I ought to say something. Do something. So I sent one sms and went to bed.

Like I said, it had been a long week.

Now that I'm back in the valley, I've come to realise how much I miss my friends. They're truly my family here, and their company has very much been my comfort. I hope I don't take too much for granted. I hope I can give them as much as they've given me.

Resolutions? I'm not one for resolutions - never any good with them. And even if I wanted to make any right now, it's a little hard to see beyond tomorrow. Day after. Next week. But that's okay. I already have a lot.

I have hope, and faith, and love.

I may be a little wiser and perhaps a smidgeon more mature, but I have not become jaded - a promise I had made to myself many, many, many years back, when I was yet a boy learning the meaning of that word.

I have a strong family (never underestimate the uniting force of a dinner table).

And some darn good friends.

Oh and not forgetting hor... a nice apartment, a nice car, a nice phone, a nice laptop, a nice chair, a nice closet full of nice clothes, several nice bags...

The only thing missing is that nice body. And a nice widescreen LCD TV.

Thoughts For The New Year

Cherish.

Pump up the jam.

Time to move forward.

Love.

Laugh.

A little less sensitive, and a little more proactive.

Vital amines - good stuff.

Ice cream - even better.

Eat anything, just less of everything.

Sing.

Dance.

And perhaps a little romance.