Belles, Stars and Boulevards

Starstruck
Because Cute, Smart, and Funny don't mean a thing The above was supposed to be the real title, but trust me the blogskin screwed up on me Living life to the fullest And I won't say anything at all. To all the lovely bitches like you Get your boots on
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Musings on an opening - Thursday, August 9, 2012 @ 11:59 PM

I've always had an issue with the phrase a "window of opportunity". A window after all, cannot provide opportunity. It is an opening, but only for looking, and not for jumping through.

A window of opportunity therefore, should be something unattainable, or a glimpse of a bright future, but nothing more. The hero that might saunter through your doorway is much more likely to fall most comically into a shallow ditch, dashing his brains out on a particularly dense toad, because his horse tripped on well, absolutely nothing at all.

The knight in shining armour does journey by many windows, wincing as he rejects the calls of several ugly maids before slaying an outsized dragon, inevitably riding off into the sunset with the princess with the flawless features. No prizes for guessing which one is harder for our hero.

But I suppose the window provides a glimpse beyond the mundane, which is what binds the window into our consciousness and architecture though the days of watching for approaching siege weapons are long over; chances are you won't spot any visitors from your window from your apartment 40 floors up.

Windows bring hope. Don't tell me ventilation, because doors are hardly airtight. Ok fine, maybe sunlight. But for the purpose of my beautiful vision let's think about a night. The type of night that Juliet gazed out of her window on, to the sky which was not just the sky. For those of us trapped by practicality in the comfort of our homes instead of lying on our backs in an idyllic grassy field, the window would be our link to the stars.

Through the window you might ponder the distant lights, some of which might have actually stopped being a few thousand years ago. You think, and hopelessly try to count for a while, and rack your brains for the name of the one constellation you know. Frowning at the ancients who devoted enough time to notice the formations that stayed and those that didn't, but above all you wonder.

And so from the window springs hope, and from hope springs wonder, and from wonder you will find there is no answer but that which your heart will give you. Maybe as new thoughts stir within you, you'll find yourself realizing that your prince may be climbing through that very window, on a rope of your hair. Maybe you'll find a scruffy young man out there who will sing you beautiful poetic lines, then climb up to the balcony.

So maybe that's why this anthology is one about windows, for maybe they are a hope for a better age.

*************************

lol. That was ridiculous.

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Cursory - Thursday, July 19, 2012 @ 11:32 PM

This country is stale.

This country is sterile. Not vibrant though we pretend to be.

Maybe there is a hint of vibrancy, somewhere in recent stirring times, rousing itself from the ashes.

Ashes you ask? What ashes? Surely all is dead here, in the fast paced ever changing utilitarian culture that this island life brings.

But did you not know? This egalitarian cosmopolitan global first world nation had sprang forth from a sleepy fishing village but a hundred years ago? That this sprawling growing ever changing landscape did not exist before 1965? Surely our forefathers from their diverse cultures found time for entertainment beyond smoking weed and whores when they found rest from their endless harsh labour in the pearl of the east.

For there was a time perhaps, long long ago where the washerwoman was more than a washerwoman, where the labourer only laboured for a while, then rested for another while.

When the businessman was only a businessman until the sun went down and the streets were closed to the movings and buyings and tradings. When there was, a different sort of nightlife.

Where theatre filled the walkways as the lanterns lit the dark, and there was singing and noisy music.

But no more. For we cannot be artisans, not even in part. For the liberating arts are the liberal arts, and the liberal has no place in this conservative chinese dominated society. Where modernity, religion, sexuality and God forbid politics cannot be freely discussed. And what else is art for, than to ask questions.

Of society, people, and yes even the Ruling Party.

To question the Ruling Party is to challenge the ruling party, is to threaten to overthrow. And to overthrow would be a decision we would regret in many years to come, as the carefully well tended and well oiled machinery of this city state would jam as the citizenry fall into complacency and the vultures (all without a lightning scar) make off with all its cogs and pieces.

We do not question. After all do you not know? This is a first world nation, and they got you here without questioning, so don't. Because we don't want to do things any different, or you might end up having potholes in your roads despite being extremely wealthy and don't you take that for granted. Not questioning is what brought us a rail system that never broke down, until of course it did, then it was just a once-off, until it broke down again; but never mind, because it's still a World-Class system and it will be until a systemic failure kills instead of delaying a few thousand commuters.

Questioning is dangerous. The arts are dangerous. But they are dangerous to you, you will never amount to anything as an artist. You are useless to society, and how will you feed yourself, let alone a family? What did your parents send you to your elite primary school and elite secondary school and Australian university for? For you to run around pretending to be somebody else? Children also can pretend. Which is why the mats are the ones playing guitars in the void deck, wasting their lives as they go on to father several children with several children before they reach the age of 18; probably marrying all of them in horrific sequence.

You should study hard, grow up become a doctor if you can, or a lawyer. But it doesn't matter anyhow, because A is average, B is bad, C is crap and D is die liao. F is fucking useless and S is stupid lah. So off you go to art school, or piano school or violin school and here's 7 years of your life to whatever discipline you've got to distinguish you from your peers who are also learning musical instruments to show that they're "smart" and "clever" enough to go to a University, because polytechnic is only for stupid people who will amount to nothing. And while you're at it and trying to make sense of whatever you're doing, remember- it's for your bright bright future in a high rise office building somewhere, and stop thinking about how much you love your craft because you need to grow up and get a real job someday, or you'll be like that weirdo tapping away on his bongo drum next to the the mrt station, or the old man selling tissues; they're all beggars anyway. Don't you remember? This is the country that arrests firsts and gives cultural medallions later- 14 years so don't try, but it supports the arts.

So yes, go ahead. Express yourself in anyway you want to, and you will have the unending support of the people. And remember, that's what art is all about, and what we want as a nation, just don't ask don't tell, no criticism of political figures, unless they belong to our neighbours and portray our leaders in a wonderful light, and no naked gangsters- whatever your international filmmaker buddies might tell you, because our youngsters might forsake who they are for decadent Western moral values. Remember remember remember, we tried our best to give you support, but there is just no talent in Singapore, not enough daring brave individuals, who dare to express themselves and yet not challenge. And if you fail, we told you already. Go get your As, go be average.

Labels: my weird opinion, rant, stories

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Desolate - Sunday, March 18, 2012 @ 9:05 PM

My heart is stuck.

Let's go back to the years before.

**************************************************

Back then we had to earn our keep. I was only seventeen, and at the time, it wasn't too old an age to work. An education had to be earned, and earn it I did. My mother found me some employment in the city, a twenty minutes walk from my old village in the countryside; near enough, yet it was a different world from the one I grew up in.

In the village we had five households, sixty three people, and their names I could recite for you even today, though the place where it used to stand is graced by a road intersection and the forlorn privilege of perching myself on that very spot and looking around in nostalgic silence has been long taken from me.

You have to understand what it must have been like, a lanky wide-eyed country boy standing in the noisy rice shop as about fifty sweaty men bustled about with their rice sacks, struggling to listen to the instructions being shouted at me in Hokkien by the towkay. He shouted because there was no other way to be heard, not that I could hear him anyway, one moment I was peering into the dim mass of frenetically moving people, next thing I knew, a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it was thrust into my hand and I was shown the exit with a rice bag over my shoulder.

And so I set off on my journey across the cramped and foreign land. The city wasn't too big, but the roads certainly took some getting used to. The way people clustered themselves along the narrow walkways that lined the open streets, not walking straight down the middle like they always did in the countryside. No, the road was for the rich. The rich and their rickshaws and trishaws and the expensive Ford vehicles. The noise too, was something that kept at me, kept reminding me of the strangeness of the land.

I followed the directions the towkay had shouted at me with great difficulty, but after asking multiple strangers and flashing the address at them, I found myself in a cramped damp alley. For the first time in the town I heard silence; the occasional car engine echoed into that narrow space from what seemed an eternity away, and all was quiet save the dripping of water from the rooftops, forming themselves into shallow stagnant pools all around.

I made my way slowly down the alley, all too aware of the splashes my feet made in the puddles, doing my best to skip over them whenever I could, ignoring the load on my back. I was younger and stronger then you see. I came to a rusty plate in the wall. Number 17. The door next to it that served as the entrance into the building was broken, hanging off it's hinge, and I stepped in softly.

Everything on the inside was old too. The cobwebs were there in the corners if you looked, the sheets of calligraphy that hung on the walls, hinting at long gone opulence, were yellowed and stained. I was to go up to the second floor, and the wooden rotten stairs made no noise as I climbed upwards.

The door to the apartment, or room, or flat at 2B was red. At least it had been red once, now it was red, speckled with black, brown, white and brown where all the wood had come off in strips. I rapped on the door and I called out, the knock sounding unusually loud in the confined landing between the stairs and the door and it swung open almost immediately, as if I had been expected all along. Not simply expected, because I surely was, but as if I had been waited for.

The old man muttered as he let me in, pushing over pieces of junk on the floor to make way for me as I entered the room, I suppose he was scolding me for being late but I had been too busy staring at the glowing box in the corner of the dark room. That was the first time I had ever seen a television, the miracle picture machine and it's strange filtered way of delivering sounds. Distorted. Foreign.

"Ah Kim ah!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs, startling me. City folk are strange people. Nowadays they, you all I mean speak so fast. Back then, they would shout for nothing. The living room was cramped, almost claustrophobic, and he had a need to shout. But yes, for the first time I noticed the old woman who lay in a massive foreign chair facing the tv. Her eyes closed. She did not stir.

"The rice is finally here, we can eat soon." He brayed, ignorant to the fact that Ah Kim didn't quite seem to care. Or move actually. A chill started at the tip of my fingers.

He grabbed the rice bag from me, his sinewy limbs deceptively strong and clattered his way across the room. He stood by the chair and regarded her. "Ah Kim ah, are you cooking today?"

"No?"

He paused as I stood there in silence. I wondered if I should say something. But didn't.

The old man bustled off into the kitchen, swinging in the rice sack as he did. "Hang on, I'll get the money. You stay right there." A moment later, I heard a great crashing sound of pots and cymbals. "Just hang in a bit" he shouted.

I leaned over as the ringing faded into emptiness again. The old woman was still lying there, completely motionless. She wasn't breathing, and her leathery speckled skin was cold to the touch.

A sudden fanfare from the television startled me, and I jumped back as a man in a suit appeared on the screen to synthesised applause and the old man creaked back into the room, shuffling notes in his hand and peering at them with thick squarish glasses. The type that you see nowadays occasionally, in joke shops.

He looked up after counting the money and caught me staring at her. Rolling his eyes he said, "I know she's a little weird at times, excuse her." Flashing a look towards the chair he raised his voice again. "Ah Kim ah, this is the last time I'm cooking this week. I swear."

"She's been sitting there for days, lazy pig. Kim ah, please send our visitor off."

I backed out of that strange place with the money, leaving him behind by himself, only letting myself shed a tear once I was out of the building, out of the alley where he wouldn't hear me. That affection in his voice you see, was and is to this day the plainest purest love I've ever heard.

****************************************************

My stories always seem to write themselves in the end.

Maybe I needed this to write this.

You dope.

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Weirdos - Sunday, January 8, 2012 @ 7:26 PM

So our precocious hero once again found himself on his way to the bus stop, not knowing what horrors lay ahead of him.

As he would later find out, much.

Too much.

He slid past the slow-moving couple, the kind that you see, walk behind and curse at on every pavement and couldn't help but crack a wry smile when he saw the big bold words in electric blue font on the back of the guy's sports shirt :

Breast stroker

Tanjong Katong Swimming Club

He slid his way onto the bench at the stop, nestling himself tightly on the only available space in between the aunties and their huge bags of vegetables when his danger sense began to tingle.

Frowning, he looked up and saw nothing. The bus stop was crowded, but there was nothing interesting of note, no-one interesting of note. Then he noticed her. Stoned out expression, super thick plastic nerdy kiddy looking red glasses, messy hair and buck teeth. She plonked herself on the far end of the bench for all of two seconds.

Then she got up and stretched, as those super slim, super tanned fitness instructors in skimpy outfits tend to do on "fitness" channels where most of the audience had to be male, staring vapidly to the left, paying no attention whatsoever to the right, which incidentally, happened to be the direction the buses were all coming from.

In any case, she was harmless he thought. A little weird but harmless. That feeling soon changed when she stretched again, upwards this time, lifting her danky looking black top, which he suspected was the only reason why he could not see stains of uncontemplatable nature on it, to reveal her wrinkly pale stomach.

Just then, a bus pulled up; not his. He watched in horror as almost everyone in the stop promptly rose to their feet and queued up to get into the bus, leaving three people in the stop. Him, exercise lady, and an excessively pretty girl on his left, who seemed oblivious to the danger about to befall her.

Most honestly its not like he liked to stare at her and observe the unnatural colour of her belly, however if he was going to catch his bus, he would have to look to his right, and hopefully past her, and not at her.

Empty bus-stops however, rarely stay empty, much to the consternation of our now endangered hero. He could only watch and scream silently in his head as exercise lady, despite her heavy exertions, which now led her to point her head at the ceiling and gape like a fish trying to breathe air every ten seconds or so, seemed to develop a sense of civic consciousness and consideration for others, leading her to move in from the edge of the bench. Towards him.

As he moved closer to the left of the bench, inching ever so slightly away from exercise lady who seemed to take every inch just as he vacated it, he realised for the first time that he had a problem. Towering over the excessively pretty girl was a man who seemed to have sawn off both his arms and grafted two massive trucks in their places. She had a boyfriend.

Caught between the invisible boundaries that boyfriends place around their girlfriends and exercise lady's intimidating flab, our hero now had a life threatening decision to make.

It was at this moment that a bus zoomed into view. Instead of a number, the electronic display on the front obnoxiously proclaimed in block letters "GONG XI FA CAI"

Thinking quick, with lightning quick reflexes our hero leapt to his feet, congratulating himself on his easy escape. Not to be thwarted, exercise lady broke her stretch and strode forward with him.

Panic seized him, what was he to do? For a second his mind conjured up images of an hour long bus ride with the wrinkly expanses of exercise lady's stomach filling half his vision. He shivered and squeezed his eyes to rid himself of the ghastly vision.

Just as the side display of the bus displaying the number came into view, his drama training took over. Feigning disappointment, he paused delicately in his step and reversed his direction, resting lightly on the seat as exercise lady obliviously sauntered over to the entrance of the bus, not noticing the hordes of people scrambling to avoid her.

As he breathed a sigh of relief, he saw the hulking cyborg step onto the bus as well, he was the only one brave enough to stand directly behind exercise lady. Looking down, he realised he was within touching distance of the girl, who was tapping away at her phone in half-excitement, utterly ignoring his presence.

Double-score.

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Diffidence - Saturday, December 31, 2011 @ 8:56 PM

I took a long sip from my coffee as I stared out into the busy street through the cafe window, only paying the slightest attention as the two people sitting at the table with me continued their conversation.

"There was this funny thing I saw on the television the other day," the heavyset man beside me said. Let's just call him Dan for now. I had always known Dan, one of life's stranger constants, forever running around with a sense of intrigue and child-like wonder that seemed to make a mockery of his huge frame.

"Past life regression, ever heard of it?" he said, with heavy dramatic emphasis on the first three words. He glanced at me, his eyes full of excitement. Naturally his child-like wonder would be a lot more interesting if not for his fascination with all sorts of arcane pseudo-sciences. It was aliens one week and mind-reading the next.

"Well I've certainly heard of it," interjected Sarah with mild interest, "so its reincarnation now eh? Don't you think you're taking this new age thing a little too seriously?"

"It isn't the same thing." Dan muttered with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Just cause all you folk decide to lump everything you call strange you cannot disprove into one big category of things called 'new age nonsense' doesn't mean they're all related."

"Past life regression is a technique that uses hypnotism to allow people to remember what happened their past lives."

"So naturally you had to come to us. Hmmm let me guess Dan, I'm the psychologist, so you want Rodney over there to be your test subject?" quipped Sarah.

I cleared my throat and put my drink down. "Sorry fellas, but I'm not going to let myself be set aside and be hypnotised just for the sake of your crackpot theory Dan. Besides, judging from the way my luck runs, I was probably some sort of animal in my previous life, so unless you can speak cow..."

"Guys I'm serious about this." He said imploring Sarah with his eyes. Not me of course, he knew better than to try.

She sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"Oh alright Dan."

So that was one week ago. And that's how I found myself sitting in Sarah's plush living room across town. She certainly knew how to choose her leather. They had worked it out rather quickly, Sarah had already checked up the techniques and would hypnotize Dan, who if was lucky would recall a slice of his past life.

As for me, having done the obligatory google search upon reaching home, I naturally knew what was going to happen. Depending on the skill of the hypnotist, and she was good at what she did, the subject undergoing hypnotism would have a good chance of triggering a memory, a higher chance if they believed in the possibility of reincarnation. This was going to be fun.

*****************************************

I'll finish this some other time. I promise!

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The 7th Day - Thursday, November 10, 2011 @ 7:06 PM

It had been one week since I got the news. I still hadn't gotten used to him being gone, and I wouldn't for a long while. Every now and then I think of him, and it hurts. Just like that, our perfect little world fell to pieces, and there was nothing I could do about it. We had finally been able to afford a place of our own after years of slogging away deep into the night. It was supposed to be the start, the first step on the road to our dreams and our happily ever after.

Life is cruel sometimes.

It was an accident as they like to call it. A horrific one, 11 cars piled up in the middle of the freeway, 17 injured, 3 dead. I never read the newspaper reports, and I couldn't step out of the house for three days, but I still remember the face of the police officer at the door, the icy fear that gripped my heart.

"Mrs Parker?" He said. "Sophie Parker?" He shifted hesitantly as I nodded, "I'm really sorry.."

The way my world plunged into darkness.

But I had to move on. Or at least try to. I brought Ally out to our backyard to play that day. She was only four and I hadn't and wouldn't and just couldn't tell her. Daddy was far away, I said. He wouldn't be coming back so soon, yes he still loves you very much. She said she understood and gave me a brilliant smile, and it took all my strength not to tear up as I returned the smile.

September 10th, it was to be her fourth, and her first without him. The first of many, but she wouldn't miss him that day I told myself. So I had decked her out in her favourite red dress and set her out with a new shiny set of sand tools in the sandpit in the backyard. The autumn wind bit at our heels that day but she didn't mind; and so I didn't either.

It was a beautiful day, the leaves were golden, and the slight haziness to the air just served to make the soon approaching sunset more picturesque. The wind picked up again, and the dead leaves stirred themselves once more, and soared through the air in a kaleidoscope of colour.

Just then a cloud went over the sun and something went wrong. The leaves fell to the floor, dead again, but the breeze kept blowing, no longer nourishing. No, it was a winter wind, powerful and vengeful seeking to claim and to take. The beauty of the autumn day spoiled and corrupted. A lone church bell tolled in the distance and I felt an icy panic grow within me. Ally didn't notice. The bell sounded again, bringing back memories of a different time. Memories, from a place so far past it seemed like another life.

Chinese bells, funeral bells.

The thought shook me, death was the last thing I wanted on my mind. But yet it was all around, the cold, the finality of it all. Suddenly it struck me of how alone we were. The yard seemed impossibly large, and the fences around it unnecessarily high. Like prison walls they loomed. Yet the yard grew ever more expansive. There was not a human to be heard. The bell tolled again, and once again my mind flew back to the time before and I heard the voice of my long dead grandmother speaking.

"The Chinese say that on the seventh day, the soul of the dead will return....to make a final visit"

Visions, pictures flashed through my mind.

"If you spread talcum powder on the floor and see footprint traces the next day, then you will know your loved one has found their way home......

Ah Girl tonight you must sleep with us and don't touch the food on the altar. Tomorrow also don't touch. Don't go out of the room until we tell you to okay?

Wah wah come look, Ah Gong came back last night, and he took the oranges we left him...

A strange mood had settled about the place, and I struggled to deal with the inexplicable flood of pictures from my past. Suddenly I noticed the yard had grown deathly still. The loudest sound to be heard was my own breathing, followed by Ally's erratic scraping of the sand.

Just then I heard a distinct crunch behind me, not loud but distinct, like a footstep. On the edge, I spun around but I found nothing there. Trying to calm myself down, I sat myself next to Ally, and took in the structure she was building. A tower, or lighthouse. I couldn't tell.

Crunch

I jerked myself to my feet and looked around in futility, taking in the sparse grass, and high wooden slats. The safety of the house a million miles away.

Crunch

"Ally."

She looked up.

"Go inside, its time for your dinner soon." I said, trying to keep my voice even, watching her as she slowly gathered up her toys.

"Just leave them dear, I'll get them for you."

She turned for a second and looked at me with her big brown eyes. Is everything alright Mommy? I gave her a reassuring smile, and her mind at ease, she ran the distance up the yard, slamming the screen door behind her as she scrambled up to her room.

Now it was just me. Me and the yard. I didn't know what I was looking for or what made me stay, but then the wind stopped just as the cloud moved away from the sun, pouring light down on me. It was then that he stepped behind me and drew me close, holding me against him with his hands around my waist.

"John.."

"Shh..." he whispered into my ear, "don't try to turn around."

I sighed as he stood there and breathed deeply, once again taking in his scent.

"They didn't lie to me did they John."

"No no," he said sad, sadness pervading his voice. "They didn't."

I cried, in his arms and he held me tighter, comforting me slowly with his soft words as I slowly made my way back from the hurt, the raw hurt.

"Sophie, I'm going to have to go now." He paused. "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you like I said I would, I hope you'll forgive me."

I tried to speak but I choked as the words for the moment eluded me, emotion forming an insurmountable lump in my throat.

"Give Ally my love will you, I'll miss her."

I began to cry again, and he hugged me like he always used to once more, pressing something to my hand before letting go.

As soon as he released me I turned around but I was alone again, and he was gone forever. In my right hand was a white rose, whiter than the snow, pristine and perfect.

And I do believe, that the heart does go on.

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The 7th Night - Tuesday, November 1, 2011 @ 7:06 PM

*story*

It happened many years back when your elder sister Ah Hui was still very small. You see back then, we were very poor, and me and your father both had to work to pay for the flat. Your Ah Gong would come over during the daytime to look after Ah Hui when we were not around. Maybe she cannot remember now, but Ah Hui loved your Ah Gong, he always took such good care of her, and would play "peek a boo" with her all the time.

Ah Gong wasn't very old, he was not even sixty that year. Your father was just 29 and Ah Gong was thirty years older. I'm not too sure how it happened, but one fine day he got hit by a car while trying to cross the road to our flat. He was in the ICU for three days, and all of our relatives came over and said many prayers for him at the temple but in the end there was nothing the doctors could do.

We didn't have much, but we gave him a big Chinese funeral. Everyone chipped in as much as they could. We burnt him one of the biggest houses that the temple sold, and we all walked the full mile behind his coffin to the cemetery. I never realised how big your father's family was until that day, there were at least a two hundred people there when the coffin was lowered into the grave.

A week later I was sitting at home playing with Ah Hui in my bedroom. It was just me and her, your father had to go to another country for a business trip. It was very late at night already but she didn't want to sleep. Suddenly she sat up and looked at the open door and began to smile. I looked over but I couldn't see anything, when I looked at her again she laughed and started clapping. She kept looking at the doorway like she could see something but there wasn't anything there. It was so strange and scary, I quickly went and closed the door and when I turned around she was already sleeping.

Your father tried to explain to Ah Hui about Ah Gong having passed on a few days later when he came back from overseas, we didn't know how to tell her, since she was so young. In the end we told her that Ah Gong would not be around for awhile, but she just gave that smile again and said,

"Gong gong tell me 'ready, he say he going somewhere and he not coming back, he also tell me must be guai and listen to mummy."

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We Can't Talk About It - Sunday, October 16, 2011 @ 7:38 PM

He regarded the woman at the door as he entered his living room as she spoke from the door.

"Oh your mother isn't at home? Well don't need to wake her then."

Thick voice, fake british accent, snobby Singaporean his mind instantly thought. He didn't like her.

"Who's that?" He asked his brother.

"Uh, just the neighbour downstairs, our neighbour opposite has been splashing water and she wanted to get their number.

Immediately they heard a knocking and the unpleasant sound of that formerly smiling woman's voice.

"Open the door, I know you're in there. If not I'll have to call the security guard."

He really didn't like her.

He was rather fond of his neighbours and he knew them to be a typical Singaporean family. Well as typical as they could be if they had strange amounts of people going in and out of the house at random times. But anyway, they were cool. Though it was a Sunday, this usually meant that either only the old man of the family was at home, usually watching an intolerably loud chinese soap opera, or it was just the maid.

Judging by the closed door and the lack of loud chinese soap opera music, the old man wasn't at home either. The woman started up again, still in that snivelling snobbish pained perfect english, interrupting his train of thought.

"Hello? Yes? Yes dear, the motherfucking cowards are refusing to open the door. Can you look out your window and shout up at them. They are still in there the bitches."

Oh the irony, he thought.

"Yes dear, call up the security guards, lets see how long these dogshitting shitheads can stand in there."

More knocking.

"Open the door. Open the bloody door, I know you're in there."

It was really starting to grate on his nerves. Just his luck that he was trying to eat his lunch at that current moment.

"You shitheads, better open the door now or I'll call the police."

He had had enough.

"Excuse me ma'am, while we'd understand your current state of mind and most certainly do appreciate your impassioned remonstrations on behalf of the neighbourhood lest we too suffer from a similar act of water-splashing, we hope you do remember that I am only sixteen and I can repeat every single expletive that you have uttered in the last five minutes and I'm quite sure all the five year olds in the block can as well. I thank you for your willingness and courage to uphold the peace and enforce civic-mindedness in this community.

He really didn't like her voice.

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Its Hard To Belong - Tuesday, September 27, 2011 @ 10:17 PM

Victoria ran out of her front door, leaving it open, the swirling maelstrom of emotion following her out, leaving its twisted trail behind as she slammed open the door to the stairwell and pounded her way up blind. Never, again, she told herself. Never.

7th floor, 8th floor, 9th, 10th, circling, thrashing her way upwards through the sea of red until she finally burst through the door at the 20th storey, the sounds of the eternal city instantly washing over her as the night sky opened up above. She ran out of momentum a few steps away from the door, gasping for breath as the cool air hit her lungs, and stumbled over to the edge, staring at the blaring noise from the traffic below her.

"So what brings you up here young lady"

The casual drawl startled her; vulnerable and raw, she spun around tensely. It was a man, his face full of stubble, on a plastic deck chair, gleaming white in the dim brown that was the roof. He leaned back into his chair and after drawing a deep breath from his pipe, unleashed a foul smelling cloud of smoke from his pipe.

She didn't know what to say,

"Stuff...I guess"

"Always is," he said sighing, "nobody just ends up here. Unless cos you're me of course."

Victoria stood there in silence as he sank into a silent depression, the quiet surface opaquely concealing the turmoil that must be within. Quietly he intoned, "Look up into the sky."

She looked up, above the city lights and light haze, and saw stars. Stars upon stars upon stars, twinkling, dazzling, winking stars. She looked away for a moment and saw the man had gotten up, his face now pale in the moonlight.

"Beautiful ain't it." he whispered, not pausing from his look into the heavens.

His eyes took on a faraway look, and she turned her gaze back to the depths of the galaxies as he softly breathed,

"Star light, Star bright

The first star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight"

Suddenly she felt dumb. What was she doing there anyway. Guilt and confusion washed through her as she backed away instinctively.

"I'm sorry." she said, realising who the real intruder was.

He broke and regarded the girl gently once more, and as Victoria stared into his eyes she saw an understanding there; the sense that the soul considering hers had known, had been and had moved on. Feeling self-conscious she looked away and saw him smile.

"You're alright kiddo," he chuckled to himself; seeing her confused face, he stilled his laughter. "Just realise you ain't alone, and find your own space you know what I mean?"

She sighed for the first time that night, his words sounding hollow to her; it wasn't that she didn't know, but realising that fact didn't make her problems any easier to deal with.

He smiled knowingly.

"Oh but Victoria, I do know."

"How did you know...."

He slipped off his trench coat as he unfolded his six foot wings, and shook them free as they shone, gleaming white under the light of the moon, taking on a ethereal glow, brilliance unlike anything she'd ever seen.

"Even angels have their problems, just remember; you ain't as alone as you think."

Weariness all gone, he tilted his head upwards, looking out into the sky.

"Someone's thinking of you, don't forget that."

And with that he was gone.

************************************************

*Vic if you ever read this uh, sorry I just thought your name fitted best lol.

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It's a long way down - Sunday, September 4, 2011 @ 11:47 PM

"What the hell, is WRONG WITH YOU", he screamed into his phone, drawing the stares of the passers-by on the road. He was too pissed to care. Angry and frustrated he hung up, violently slamming the red button and jamming his earphones into his ears, once again tuning out the world in his angst, ignoring the car that had to brake suddenly as he stepped onto the road without any regard for his safety.

He allowed himself to feel angry, to let it show on his face, in everything he did. His face felt hot, and he felt the negative energy radiating out from his body in waves, affecting the people around him. He caught a glimpse of fear in the eyes of the people walking the opposite way, a risked glance and the hurried manner with which they moved on. He enjoyed it, and he fed off the perverse joy and the sense of power it gave him.

The strains of a melancholy song filtered into his ear, and his anger slowly dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of emptiness. life is always hard, the song reminded him, and he slowed his walk to a hopeless amble, all fury spent.

He plodded his way to the mall, streams of people flowing and ebbing around him like the tide. Rushing and bending their way around him, heedless emotionless water. His eyes opened only so he could see where he was going, colours whirled around him but he saw nothing.

He saw...a man on a wheelchair, like him, marooned in the mass of people, a static island in the river currents, a stark figure of loneliness. Ignored by all, seen by none.

He moved slowly past a gesturing woman in her 40s, faint lines showing on her face as she held out flyers for him, oblivious to his lack of interest in her and the world at large. A few metres ahead he saw her colleague, a girl, young but older than him.

She looked right at him, her brown eyes studying him carefully. They locked eyes for a moment, and in her eyes he saw an understanding. He nearly stopped right there as they shared that small moment, the people around them oblivious to the change in him. After that moment which felt like forever, she gave him a considered smile and offered him a flyer. He took it.

He entered the shopping centre, he trudged up the stairs aimlessly, he wasn't too sure where he was going, he just knew that he had to keep moving. Just then another song started up, a song of encouragement, of empathy. Face tomorrow, tomorrow's not yesterday, the song urged him.

Pretty please, I know it's a drag,

He surrendered himself to the music, it was his only comfort now,

Wipe your eyes, and put out your head

Wish you could be happy instead

Closing his eyes he tried to remember, a different time, he couldn't really, but for a brief moment he saw a bright future, a future of hope.

There's nothing else I can do

But love you the best that I ca-

And that was it, he broke. Tears brimming, he finally fell, sinking to his feet in desperation. He cried, for all to see.

And the whole world stopped and stared.

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Cheers to Love - Friday, August 19, 2011 @ 9:15 PM

And sometimes I need intensity to blow away my sorrow.

*********************************************************

Midnight in the city. He shifted in his seat on the back of the bus. His hands digging into the subtly grime covered pseudo cushions he sat upon, he stared out the window.

They said the city never sleeps, the unearthly orange glow of the streetlights confirmed it, forming a highway in the darkness where the shadows fled. Still, there was a quiet about the night and a strange way where every single sound made by the creaking vehicle which was carrying him onwards echoed out beneath the starless grey sky.

He found his body pressed slightly uncomfortably against the left window as the bus turned, off the highway and onto another long straight road. The lights were dimmer, the blackness closer and endless, broken only by the occasional hanging branch or overgrown leaf hanging out from behind its veil.

On and on the bus travelled, the seats swaying up and down in an almost rhythmic fashion, down that long winding road. Its two headlights forming two ovalish pools of brightness before the slow moving vehicle. A spot of brightness in a world of nothing. The darkness closed in on the bus, and so did time.

He awoke to find himself alone on the bus. He was the only passenger. Rubbing his bleary eyes he checked his watch. 3:00 a.m. He looked beyond the glass and saw the moon in the sky, but nothing else.

The moon. The road. The bus. The constant lights.

The bus no longer bobbed up and down, but he could feel the hum of the engine, and could see the streetlamps passing by. He looked through the windscreen of the bus and saw the road stretching out into forever, disappearing as the gloom swallowed it up, the edge of darkness never closer than it was before though the bus steadily travelled forwards.

It isn't, his mind whispered to him.

Something was definitely wrong, bus services didn't run at this time anyway, and though he had probably missed his stop, he was sure that he would have at least picked something familiar out in the landscape.

The landscape. There was none, none that he could see. Just the moon, the streetlamps and the road; the latter two long blended and blurred into insignificance, till they became as constant as the moon itself. Unchanging.

He rose unsurely from his seat, tottering as he stood more from uncertainty than the fresh tingling sensation of cramped limbs. Pushing past two empty seats and a pole, he paused halfway down the aisle, his footsteps sounding hollowly against the floor, dominating the relative silence of the bus.

"Hello...?" he called out to the bus driver hidden from his view and got no reply. He stood there, straining for any sound beyond the by now all too familiar. The engine kept humming as panic and fear slowly began to grow within him.

Hesitantly he took another step forward, and his foot impacted the floor like an anvil. His heart beat furiously in his chest, and he waited. Silence.

As he crept his way forward very soon he began to make out a figure hunched over the steering wheel. It didn't move, but only kept it's eyes forward, staring straight into the road ahead. He couldn't make anything out in the distance either.

He would've called out, but again his mind screamed at him that something was wrong. Even so, he found himself right behind it and reached out a hand. He stopped short of it's shoulder and paused. He stood there, almost as if in a trance, caught between his fear of what would happen, and struggling against his need to end his predicament. Suddenly it became very clear in his mind that his situation was certainly very out of the ordinary.

Uncertainty and trepidation blossomed into fear and full blown panic as he stumbled away. Away from that thing which he was certain was not human, as far away as he could. Back, back to where he had been, the seat at the back. He shivered as settled back into the cramped space, sitting upright in his seat he watched the unchanging nothing beyond the window and the moon far and beyond, ever changing but still the same. And as the cold descended on him, he found his eyes tiring, the dread and gloom creeping up on him ever so slowly. He huddled up in his sweater, pulling the folds tighter around him.

Five minutes, ten minutes, an hour, it did not matter. His watch had stopped working at 3:01 a.m. and there was no one to tell him how much time had passed. The moon would not. The sun would not. He reached to scratch his back, but then realised that his arm could not move, and so he closed his eyes and went to sleep, surrendering to the dark even as he felt the chilling numbness spread throughout his limbs.

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Waiting For The Sun - Thursday, July 28, 2011 @ 5:49 PM

She studied him from the back as they stepped on the bus not quite together. He wasn't exactly tall, or built like an athlete but he sure acted like it anyway. Her heels clicked hollowly against the floor as she spied a seat ahead. A seat.

He smiled wryly as he saw her head towards it and then stop, not willing to sit and let him play the macho tower of strength.

"Its alright, you can sit. I'm sure you must be quite tired," he quipped, knowing that it would make her feel like doing the opposite.

She shot a look at him over her shoulder. As if she was made out of glass, she thought, she could hold her own thank you very much. But she was wearing heels, and the temptation was too great so she sat down.

"Thank you, yes I am." she said, smiling sweetly back at him, sliding not so effortlessly into the seat, her heels clattering awkwardly against the floor. Oh she hated those things.

He looked at her for a while, that perfect smile still on his face, and looked away. She was sure he was laughing ever so slightly in his head.

They made small talk as the bus journeyed on its way forward, dancing and probing each other through their conversation, not once did he miss a beat, and he seemed unfazed and unconcerned by any stumble she made.

Just then an old lady got onto the bus, spotting her immediately she rose to give her seat away.

"You'll lose your balance," he told her, his eyes sparkling as he did. "someone else would've given up a seat, you needn't have."

Before she could retort the bus started up quickly again, and she found herself falling backwards. As everyone else on the bus except him swayed and grabbed the hand-grips tightly, he seized her hand smoothly and pulled her back onto her feet before she could fall.

Instead of issuing another effortlessly hopefully charming remark, as she regained her composure she instead saw him withdraw his hand quickly and look down to one side sheepishly, the picture of the suave, strong smooth-talker oddly incomplete.

Interesting, she thought.

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Its The Way We Feel - @ 5:15 PM

He stood in the hot year round summer sun, feeling the heat on his hair, on his arms, beneath his feet. Martin stood to his left on the field, he would move where he moved. Man-marking, simple but effective.

Suddenly the crowd roared as the ball burst free from the mass of players in front of him and a the opposition players ran on, the lumbering two metre tall Indian amongst them sprinting clear.

Seeing little other choice, he broke his marking and ran towards the giant, hoping his team would cover for him as he looked to pose a challenge to the hulking monster before he would receive the ball.

The opposition player eyed him for a moment as he ran up, then broke out in toothy grin and shoved. He stumbled along for a few metres, trying to keep his balance before he fell to the ground, making the mistake of sticking his hand out as he did so.

The pain shot up his arm, and he felt his wrist turn and immerse itself in fire. He desperately tried to pull himself to his feet as the fire spread, only to collapse to the ground again as he instinctively tried to use his injured limb to prop himself up as the ball was played in.

A chorus of shouts rose from the crowd as his team booted ball clear, high and far and he struggled to his feet. He looked around. The referee did not blow his whistle and play went on.

Football really was a contact sport. And unfair one too.

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Peanuts - Sunday, July 17, 2011 @ 6:35 PM

The family was sat around the table. A father, a mother, two children.

With one daughter in law and her three sons, the eight of them sat in the traditional chinese setting, waiting for their meal to start in a slightly awkward atmosphere.

The daughter fiddled for a moment with her nails. Then turned to her brother.

"Ah Guan, I ask you arh, should we buy a niche?"

The firstborn son, who happened to be right beside her perked his ears up. Niche...?

"A niche? Theres not much point, why you want to buy now?"

"Prices going up what, better buy first."

The son suddenly realized what they were talking about. He began to feel decidedly uncomfortable.

"How much is it over here? Its so expensive."

"$9000"

Caught in between the siblings, he couldn't look at either of them, he was certainly not going to join in the conversation. His brothers were talking to each other, his grandparents were most fortituously not paying attention, and his mother was taking a peanut from the table.

That was it, there was another plate of peanuts in front of him, and he took one.

"So expensive, whats the point, might as well just take your ashes and throw into the sea, its cheaper."

"You can't do that," the sister said, squirrelly in her mannerisms, "You have to apply for a lot of government permits, very troublesome."

"Well, my friends son died the other time and he just chucked the ashes into the ocean during a fishing trip, no hassle"

The son pretended not to hear the horror that was unfolding around him, and cursed his luck for being wedged between the two of them. He selected the most oddly shaped peanut and began to chew, grinding it slowly between his molars. Hoping to blot some of the sound out.

At this point the daughter in law at the table leaned over and whispered, "You're not talking about....them..?" glancing over at the Patriach and Matriach.

The siblings both shook their head.

The sister fidgeted again, "This isn't Malaysia, you can't do that over here, its different, besides I wouldn't want to be flung into the sea, might as well flush it down the toilet."

Her brother considered for a while then replied with typical practicality.

"Why don't you just buy a niche in Malaysia then, its cheaper over there."

"Who's going to carry my ashes over?"

"Well I can always do it, if there's no one to do it then no one is going to visit your niche anyway. In fact why even bother having a niche, might as well spend the money when you're still alive."

They continued back and forth, oblivious to their morbidity. The son, obsessive in his peanut consumption looked across the table to his ancestor for help. The wizened old man didn't hear, but the discomforted look on his face was enough for him to crack an amused smile. There was no help to be found there.

Her brother was relentless, "Think about it, with $9000 you can go on a holiday and return, you'll need the money more when you're alive than when you're dead."

He smiled at his irrefutable logic while his son shoved another 5 peanuts down his throat.

And he wondered why lunch could be so awkward.

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Sidestep - Thursday, July 7, 2011 @ 9:44 PM

He strode up to the class table with his plate of food. The first thing he noticed was the ugly great spider that sat at the table, also known to the rest of the people of earth as Prashad, the most repugnant Indian he had ever seen or encountered.

Prashad did not like him any more than he did, in fact Prashad made it his business to make his life miserable, well Prashad could try to piss him off all he wanted, but he wasn't going to sit somewhere else cause Prashad wanted him to.

So he took a seat right at the table, right opposite Prashad and stared defiantly into his dark black eyes. Daring him, to tell him to leave. Prashad glared back for a few seconds and then got up and moved away.

Feeling a sharp sense of victory he looked around at the 7 others around the table. Barely 10 seconds had passed when 3 of them finished their food and left together, bringing their plates to the washpoint at the other end of the canteen.

Two of the remaining four decided to get up and buy drinks. Jax sat to his left, and Wilson was the only one left on the other side of the table. He ate slowly at his own relaxed pace, oblivious to any of the happenings around.

Jax stared ahead sullenly, and he knew what his friend was telling him, I'm here for you now, but you really make my life difficult sometimes. He glanced to his left, Prashad was sitting there, he had apparently joined the other class table, and the other half of the class that hadn't bought their food earlier joined him there too.

And they were clearly enjoying themselves.

He felt an impossibly cold, yet white hot anger grow in his stomach, and shovelled another spoonful of food though his throat as Jax cleared out the contents of his plate, and walked off without making conversation.

There would be a next time.

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Aggressive Negotiations - Tuesday, July 5, 2011 @ 7:44 PM

Ambassador Suvinder Gupta strode up the steps and was immediately ushered into a small chamber he had never seen before. The President of the Republic of Jeannica had called for him, considering the urgency, and the fact that he had called personally, it was not going to be just a meeting of two old friends.

He hadn't even settled himself into the plush chair when President Dalia made her quick entrance, and he got up immediately, fumbling anxiously.

"Its alright Suvi, sit down, lets get to business." she said, sounding oddly flustered.

And so he did, she was the only one who called him Suvi now, despite the fact that he was already forty. She had always called him that when they were younger, before things had changed, before the world grew larger. And somehow she never grew out of the habit.

"Its about the Yishites"

This was going to be a long day he thought and sighed. Clearing his throat he spoke.

"Dali, our diplomatic position is quite clear, the kingdom of Jothanda cannot and will not intervene with matters that are not directly within our spheres of influence. And on other matters we take the same stand as the general global community."

"I know what your bloody diplomatic stand is," she hissed. "They're killing our people, doesn't that mean anything to you."

He felt the blood drain from his face. They had thought about that, the king and his advisors, and he certainly felt an ache within his heart for the people of Jeannica.

"The official stand is that we cannot take a side. However I would like to let you know that the king and his advisors have indeed considered your plight. Dali, I have argued your case before them but the truth is.... we cannot ask our people to die in battle, so that yours may live."

"So thats it then isn't it. You're going to sit back there while they lob missile after missile into the country, crushing the lives of innocents?"

"Dali.."

"They've showed no sign of stopping, they have no reason to. They won't stop until they take back their holy land."

Another mark against his case, the Yishites were clearly after the land, this was not an expansionist Nazi Regime, just a bunch of fanatics waging a holy war. The fall of Jeannica would not lead to the end of Jothanda. How then could the King ask his people to fight for anything other than their own defense.

"We can try to push your case, however at the UN..."

"Those useless fools?" She spat. " International Justice my bloody ass, they only do things for their own gain. They have nothing to gain out of this but unpopularity in their home countries. Why go up against the Yishites and their army, what do they have to gain?"

Silence reigned for the next two minutes as Suvinder shifted uncomfortably in his chair. President Dalia called for a cup of wine and she drank it slowly from the glass. Swirling it, in thought.

"Tell me Suvi, what am I supposed to do?"

He did not answer, there was nothing to say.

"The free republic of Yishi has a standing army of 300 000, we have 200 000 men, including our reserves and a home guard. Enough to prevent them from considering a full scale invasion. However, we are powerless against their rocket fire. We ran out of counter rockets two months ago, and its a good thing they don't have a large bomber force."

She paused, taking another long sip from the glass.

"Naturally we found a solution, and we worked on it. And after five months, our scientists have finally got it." She stopped and look at Suvinder in the eye.

He felt a stirring in his stomach, something was oddly familiar about this, and it was not good.

"Ambassador Dali, over the past few months our Scientists have been working on nuclear technology. I must say, we tested the first one last week. We have about 300 bombs ready for deployment."

"You don't mean to say.."

"It is the only solution."

Thoughts raced furiously through his head as he tried to deal with the stunning revelation. Facts. Figures. Three hundred bombs, in this day and age... would be enough to level Yishi many times over. The Yishites would not be able to stop all the bombs, but enough would get through to do the job. And before they met their horrible end, they would no doubt launch their own bombs which he was quite sure existed.

"Dali, you're talking about the massacre of millions, the death of an entire country, or at the very least permanently crippling an entire community."

"How is that any different from anything that they are doing to us now? Do you know how many civilians are killed in Jeannica everyday? How large the death toll has risen, and how large it will get? They won't let us get away." She leaned forward and spoke, her voice hard. "Not until each and every one of us are nailed down in our coffins, six feet under."

He pulled away and looked out of the window.

"The UN won't stand for it, they'll condemn you."

"Keep looking out of the window Suvi, look at the people, the houses, the buildings. If things continue as they are everything you see will be destroyed in a rain of fire. Everyone will die."

President Dali walked to the window and stared out at the Jeannican landscape.

"There will be no survivors." she said touching the glass. And there was silence again.

Suvinder looked down, trying to find any semblance of comfort in the parquay floor. Tracing the lines in the wood, futilely.

"I know they have nuclear weapons dammit, I'm not stupid. They'll launch them. Many people will die. But not all. Don't you understand Suvi? They don't have that many. Five in fact. And our missile defences are down already. Don't talk to me about the death of millions Suvinder. Not when you're not the one who has to agonize over the fate of five cities."

Ambassador Gupta sat there, trying to accept the death of millions that lay before him, there had to be way to prevent it...to save those lives..

"Those lives worth saving Suvi? Worth sending Jothandan men to die for?"

He swallowed hard, how could he say no?

"How?"

"Fix it so we don't have to use the bombs. Stop the Yishites, tell your king and no one else. You know what will happen if the Yishites find out."

He nodded silently. They would strike first he knew, complete annihilation.

"Good." she said, stepping softly away from the window to the door. "I know you'll do the right thing Suvi. I'm sorry I have to force you this way, I realize its been hard."

He rose with a sigh, and brushed off the dust on his suit.

"Dali, you never do anything you feel isn't absolutely right. Its been hard on you too. I understand perfectly."

The two old friends regarded each other once more.

"I-" Dalia started as Suvinder opened his mouth. They both stopped and smiled a bit.

"You first," Suvinder offered

"No you."

He smiled again, it was pointless to argue.

"Thank you."

Words, hardly spoken genuinely and sincerely especially in the circles she traveled of late. Not in the political circles of endless plotting and calculation.

"Thank you too." She said warmly.

Suddenly catching sight of the clock on the wall behind him, she awoke from her happy mood with a start.

"I'm very sorry Suvinder but I must be going."

"I understand your excellency."

She tapped at the door and gestured at the attendant snoozing outside on an ornate chair.

"Charice could you please show Ambassador Gupta out and arrange an escort for him back to the embassy."

As he made his way back down the steps he wondered indeed for the sanity of his friend. He was glad that she had found a solution. The King would not be pleased, but he felt relieved inside, once again she had made the tough decision for him. Not that it was ever his to make, but the burden had been upon his heart.

Dali Dali Dali...he thought, forever insisting on running his life.

For that he thanked the heavens.

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Awkward - Saturday, June 25, 2011 @ 9:03 PM

Another night, another day of agony he thought. He stepped off the bus aimlessly, catching his foot on the sidewalk and nearly falling, almost comically to the floor beside the street lamp. It was late, he thought, under the glow of the light, very late.

Regaining his balance, he looked up and stumbled out of the bus stop. The days had been bad as of late, it was almost as if he was in a permanent stupor, like he was drunk, except he hated alcohol.

A figure loomed out of the gloom in front of him, coming suddenly yet not quite unexpectedly, like a dream creature materialising in a nightmare. The shape seemed startlingly familiar, and he paused. She stepped into the light and he stopped. She stopped too.

They both stood there for a while, in the silence. It all came back to them immediately, expectations, dreams, hopes, disappointment, anger, bitterness, all catching them in their powerful force, it was as if, as if no time had passed. But yet, things were different.

"Hey..." She offered uncertainly, her voice faltering as her brain failed to find something else to say.

"Go away." He said, almost mumbling and muttering it, he turned away, hurt on his face.

She took a half step forward and reached her arm out to him, searching for words for the moment, there were only two.

"I'm sorry..."

The words came hesitantly, but they came nonetheless. He struggled with the powerful emotions they triggered at him, unsure of how to proceed. He wanted to turn, hold her and never let go, but he wouldn't let himself, he couldn't.

She could see what he wanted, but also saw him fighting against it, and felt a tinge of regret spread within her.

"You didn't have to go."

He spoke slowly, but they hit her like bullets, so hard, so hurting, so true. It had been her, and he had borne more than anyone should have had to bear. She had her reasons, he had to see that. It had been hard on her too.

She watched as he stood there, hurting and angry in his conviction, she realized she couldn't hold herself back anymore, and flung her arms around him as he faced away from her. He stiffened momentarily and then felt his body instinctively relax. Right then, they remembered the happier times, the whispered ambitions, the forever they once had. Right then, they were them again, and once again, they managed to share forever.

Then he tore himself away from her, and looked at her in the face for the last time.

He was crying, she thought. She had never seen him do that before, not even when he thought she had gone forever. He was gone forever she realized, the wound had cut too deep. Too deep for her to heal, one that perhaps would only be fixed by another forever. A different one.

An icy chill gripped her heart as he said the words that she knew he would say. Don't say it, she silently begged, but as much as he didn't want to, he would.

"Goodbye." He said, finality in his voice. He managed to stride past her with all the willpower in his being before he choked up, and began to run, from her, from the past, to the future with no hope.

And it was her turn to feel that strange wetness on her face, blurring her vision, sticking to her glasses, ruining her make-up. She fumbled for a tissue, she had always been the stronger one, and dabbed at her eyes as she walked ahead to the bus stop and stared out at the night sky and the endless cars, endless possibilities that passed her by.

As they made their way away from each other, they both knew that the regrets would remain with them for a long time, that many other nights would be spent in despondency, pointless dreaming over what might have become. There was no going back for them they realized, and in a beautiful sad way, that was the last thought they ever shared.

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Humility, (or should it be patience, or even thick-skinnednness, whatever) - Saturday, June 11, 2011 @ 10:50 PM

He stood in the hot chinese sun in his hot chinese robes. He had no choice, he had to wear them, after all , everyone else around him was wearing the chinese robes. They were the order of the day, especially in ancient china. Yeah, thats where he was, at least relative to the year 2011, but to him, ancient china was where he was born, lived and where he would die. It was the esteemed middle kingdom to him by the way, thank you very much.

So uh he was the "premier", or in terms perhaps remotely understandable to folk like you, the esteemed prime minister. Answering only to the Emperor, he essentially tended to the affairs of the kingdom, increasing revenue, making the country prosper, and getting rid of financial liabilities. With the exception of the biggest one that is, the emperor himself of course.

Who else could it be? But of course there was nothing he could do about heavenly mandate. Heaven would do what heaven wanted to do, and it was his job, to stop it from getting too far out of hand, and naturally he did.

And anyway everyone had to wear the robes, premier or not since the Emperor himself had decreed that royal ministers should wear them. Everyone hated the heat of course, but the Emperor could not understand. After all he had been surrounded by a contingent of royal fanners all day.

Still, there was a reason he was there, there had apparently been news of a rogue figure turning up at the event. And within a second he spotted him. He recognized him from the purple hair growing from behind his ears, yes his ears. His horrible pointy ears.

Generally when you spotted someone with pointy ears in Ancient China, he either had a horrible deformity, or was some spirit of some sort. Judging by the purple hair, it was a spirit.

He considered his options, he couldn't let it stay there, who knows what it would do. Judging by the fact that it was not breathing fire or sending Imperial guards flying, it was probably a benevolent one, but what could he do. He had to reason with....it.

*************************************************

Uh, thats all for now.

Never mind.

I'll finish this some other day.

I will.

I mean it this time!

Okay.

Part Two.

************************************

He composed himself and walked up to the figure, and it whipped around to face him immediately.

"I've been expecting you."

"Wha..?"

It was not customary for spirits to speak to him like that, it was vaguely unsettling that the creature was not balked by his presence, but what could he d-

"Don't call me a creature, I resent that."

"Um."

"Meet me

****************************************

This is so not working.

I'll try again later.

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Double dose of meh - Sunday, June 5, 2011 @ 2:12 PM

So I was standing outside the cinema yesterday while we were getting tickets for Kung Fu Panda.

And then the huge screen flashing trailers suddenly began showing the video for Back To December.

Oh yes, that super sian MV with the dude walking in the snow and Taylor Swift sitting around the house with various fascinating hairstyles. As if the song isn't quite repetitive. But somehow you don't really notice till the 15th listen.

But of course I was watching it, well half watching it since Taylor Swift is somewhat of a guilty pleasure. And then the chorus came up.

So this is me swallowing my pride

Standing in front of you saying

I'm sorry for that night,

I go back to December all the time

It turns out-

And just at that moment some super serious looking stockily built super super mutt looking malay dude in a vintage white T-shirt walks by, and not just mouthing the words, but singing them.

I laughed at him.

*********************************************************

He was at the bus stop again. It was raining. Heavily.

Water, water, water he thought. There was no end to the water. He was on an island, surrounded by water, and the sky insisted on raining almost everyday. And well, when it rained, it did pour. If only cliches didn't have that much truth in them.

He wasn't soaked, just you know his feet, with his socks and shoes. He could feel them squishing about, his feet that is. They would be in horrifying wrinkles by time he managed to get home and pry them off.

Speaking of home, his bus came up, the wait times were always depressing, though somehow he didn't find the long ride itself intimidating. He stepped up to the bus, but an old lady blocked his path, and so he stopped at the edge of the shelter, as the raindrops splashed down in front of him, a few stray ones hitting his head. He waited for the old lady to move in and stepped out into the rain.

A pudgy man wearing an obnoxiously pink shirt blocked his path.

He stared blankly at the mass of hot pink in front of him, it was loud, calling for attention, and was bold, although its owner seemed to be slow, sluggish and well, just as obnoxious as it was. Cutting his queue, honestly.

The man struggled to wedge his pudginess through the bus door and He stood there as the raindrops impacted with his back and head. Flowing down his shoulders, soaking his beautifully and most lovingly washed T-shirt. Also his precious bag.

The man finally moved in front and he stepped into the bus, dripping water as his royal pudginess fumbled with his wallet. The bus driver glanced at the young man for a moment, tense , sensing the silent aura of intimidating anger.

He tapped his card on the reader and wondered what he would do to the mindless creature. Right now there was nothing he wanted to do more than to ram the man's fluorescent shirt up his as-

Meh, let it go dude. Chill.

He hated his inner voice sometimes.

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No - Saturday, June 4, 2011 @ 10:31 PM

She walked on her train with her friends, she hated the train, she hated the people, the stupid plastic seats, the handgrips that generations of people had held, the weird pattern on the floor, and the shameless advertisements that littered the train.

Speaking of the people, there were always too many despicable ones on the train. Just glancing around at that instant, she spotted and exhibitionist couple going at it in a corner, pretending that no one was around, a dirty old man leering at all the girls in miniskirts, those slutty girls in miniskirts, that turd of a lady taking up two seats and half of a third, that misty eyed boy to her left with the tousled hair and stylish carry-bag and faraway stare. Wait.

She eyed him out of the corner of her eye, he was splendidly dressed, from top to bottom, well at least he wasn't wearing flip flops or sandals for a start. She was no fashionista but she knew when someone looked good. Confidently good as well. Though those eyes of his seemed to hint at vunerablility.

"Hey Crystal!"

Oops, she thought, switching her attention back to her friends. Right, she had so not been staring at a guy, but as she gave a colourless and bland reply and laughed, she found her eye trailing once again.

Musn't. Stare. She told herself, she was after all a dignified girl of seventeen, with more than her fair share of suitors. He nearly caught her back then, but she had escaped, she hoped.

As the train ride stretched out longer and longer, she found the temptation increasing. It was absolutely ridiculous, surely not looking at him could not cause her so much consternation. But she had to, what if she never saw him again? What if he got off at the next stop? She had to.

That was it, and as the train ground to a halt at the next stop, she titled her head ever so slightly and risked a glance.

He was looking straight at her.

She felt her heart leap, and couldn't tear her gaze away. And heart beating fast, watched as a slight smile broke out on his face, and he flashed her an outrageous open-mouthed wink.

There was only one word on her mind

Creep

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Musings on an opening - Thursday, August 9, 2012 @ 11:59 PM

I've always had an issue with the phrase a "window of opportunity". A window after all, cannot provide opportunity. It is an opening, but only for looking, and not for jumping through.

So maybe that's why this anthology is one about windows, for maybe they are a hope for a better age.

*************************

lol. That was ridiculous.

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Cursory - Thursday, July 19, 2012 @ 11:32 PM

This country is stale.

This country is sterile. Not vibrant though we pretend to be.

Maybe there is a hint of vibrancy, somewhere in recent stirring times, rousing itself from the ashes.

Ashes you ask? What ashes? Surely all is dead here, in the fast paced ever changing utilitarian culture that this island life brings.

For there was a time perhaps, long long ago where the washerwoman was more than a washerwoman, where the labourer only laboured for a while, then rested for another while.

When the businessman was only a businessman until the sun went down and the streets were closed to the movings and buyings and tradings. When there was, a different sort of nightlife.

Where theatre filled the walkways as the lanterns lit the dark, and there was singing and noisy music.

Of society, people, and yes even the Ruling Party.

Labels: my weird opinion, rant, stories

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Desolate - Sunday, March 18, 2012 @ 9:05 PM

My heart is stuck.

Let's go back to the years before.

**************************************************

"The rice is finally here, we can eat soon." He brayed, ignorant to the fact that Ah Kim didn't quite seem to care. Or move actually. A chill started at the tip of my fingers.

He grabbed the rice bag from me, his sinewy limbs deceptively strong and clattered his way across the room. He stood by the chair and regarded her. "Ah Kim ah, are you cooking today?"

"No?"

He paused as I stood there in silence. I wondered if I should say something. But didn't.

I leaned over as the ringing faded into emptiness again. The old woman was still lying there, completely motionless. She wasn't breathing, and her leathery speckled skin was cold to the touch.

"She's been sitting there for days, lazy pig. Kim ah, please send our visitor off."

****************************************************

My stories always seem to write themselves in the end.

Maybe I needed this to write this.

You dope.

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Weirdos - Sunday, January 8, 2012 @ 7:26 PM

So our precocious hero once again found himself on his way to the bus stop, not knowing what horrors lay ahead of him.

As he would later find out, much.

Too much.

Breast stroker

Tanjong Katong Swimming Club

He slid his way onto the bench at the stop, nestling himself tightly on the only available space in between the aunties and their huge bags of vegetables when his danger sense began to tingle.

Caught between the invisible boundaries that boyfriends place around their girlfriends and exercise lady's intimidating flab, our hero now had a life threatening decision to make.

It was at this moment that a bus zoomed into view. Instead of a number, the electronic display on the front obnoxiously proclaimed in block letters "GONG XI FA CAI"

Thinking quick, with lightning quick reflexes our hero leapt to his feet, congratulating himself on his easy escape. Not to be thwarted, exercise lady broke her stretch and strode forward with him.

Double-score.

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Diffidence - Saturday, December 31, 2011 @ 8:56 PM

"Well I've certainly heard of it," interjected Sarah with mild interest, "so its reincarnation now eh? Don't you think you're taking this new age thing a little too seriously?"

"Past life regression is a technique that uses hypnotism to allow people to remember what happened their past lives."

"So naturally you had to come to us. Hmmm let me guess Dan, I'm the psychologist, so you want Rodney over there to be your test subject?" quipped Sarah.

"Guys I'm serious about this." He said imploring Sarah with his eyes. Not me of course, he knew better than to try.

She sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"Oh alright Dan."

*****************************************

I'll finish this some other time. I promise!

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The 7th Day - Thursday, November 10, 2011 @ 7:06 PM

Life is cruel sometimes.

"Mrs Parker?" He said. "Sophie Parker?" He shifted hesitantly as I nodded, "I'm really sorry.."

The way my world plunged into darkness.

Chinese bells, funeral bells.

"The Chinese say that on the seventh day, the soul of the dead will return....to make a final visit"

Visions, pictures flashed through my mind.

"If you spread talcum powder on the floor and see footprint traces the next day, then you will know your loved one has found their way home......

Ah Girl tonight you must sleep with us and don't touch the food on the altar. Tomorrow also don't touch. Don't go out of the room until we tell you to okay?

Wah wah come look, Ah Gong came back last night, and he took the oranges we left him...

Crunch

I jerked myself to my feet and looked around in futility, taking in the sparse grass, and high wooden slats. The safety of the house a million miles away.

Crunch

"Ally."

She looked up.

"Go inside, its time for your dinner soon." I said, trying to keep my voice even, watching her as she slowly gathered up her toys.

"Just leave them dear, I'll get them for you."

"John.."

"Shh..." he whispered into my ear, "don't try to turn around."

I sighed as he stood there and breathed deeply, once again taking in his scent.

"They didn't lie to me did they John."

"No no," he said sad, sadness pervading his voice. "They didn't."

I cried, in his arms and he held me tighter, comforting me slowly with his soft words as I slowly made my way back from the hurt, the raw hurt.

"Sophie, I'm going to have to go now." He paused. "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you like I said I would, I hope you'll forgive me."

I tried to speak but I choked as the words for the moment eluded me, emotion forming an insurmountable lump in my throat.

"Give Ally my love will you, I'll miss her."

I began to cry again, and he hugged me like he always used to once more, pressing something to my hand before letting go.

As soon as he released me I turned around but I was alone again, and he was gone forever. In my right hand was a white rose, whiter than the snow, pristine and perfect.

And I do believe, that the heart does go on.

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The 7th Night - Tuesday, November 1, 2011 @ 7:06 PM

*story*

"Gong gong tell me 'ready, he say he going somewhere and he not coming back, he also tell me must be guai and listen to mummy."

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We Can't Talk About It - Sunday, October 16, 2011 @ 7:38 PM

Labels: rant, stories

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Its Hard To Belong - Tuesday, September 27, 2011 @ 10:17 PM

"So what brings you up here young lady"

She didn't know what to say,

"Stuff...I guess"

"Always is," he said sighing, "nobody just ends up here. Unless cos you're me of course."

Victoria stood there in silence as he sank into a silent depression, the quiet surface opaquely concealing the turmoil that must be within. Quietly he intoned, "Look up into the sky."

"Beautiful ain't it." he whispered, not pausing from his look into the heavens.

His eyes took on a faraway look, and she turned her gaze back to the depths of the galaxies as he softly breathed,

"Star light, Star bright

The first star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight"

Suddenly she felt dumb. What was she doing there anyway. Guilt and confusion washed through her as she backed away instinctively.

"I'm sorry." she said, realising who the real intruder was.

"You're alright kiddo," he chuckled to himself; seeing her confused face, he stilled his laughter. "Just realise you ain't alone, and find your own space you know what I mean?"

She sighed for the first time that night, his words sounding hollow to her; it wasn't that she didn't know, but realising that fact didn't make her problems any easier to deal with.

He smiled knowingly.

"Oh but Victoria, I do know."

"How did you know...."

"Even angels have their problems, just remember; you ain't as alone as you think."

Weariness all gone, he tilted his head upwards, looking out into the sky.

"Someone's thinking of you, don't forget that."

And with that he was gone.

************************************************

*Vic if you ever read this uh, sorry I just thought your name fitted best lol.

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It's a long way down - Sunday, September 4, 2011 @ 11:47 PM

He saw...a man on a wheelchair, like him, marooned in the mass of people, a static island in the river currents, a stark figure of loneliness. Ignored by all, seen by none.

Pretty please, I know it's a drag,

He surrendered himself to the music, it was his only comfort now,

Wipe your eyes, and put out your head

Wish you could be happy instead

Closing his eyes he tried to remember, a different time, he couldn't really, but for a brief moment he saw a bright future, a future of hope.

There's nothing else I can do

But love you the best that I ca-

And that was it, he broke. Tears brimming, he finally fell, sinking to his feet in desperation. He cried, for all to see.

And the whole world stopped and stared.

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Cheers to Love - Friday, August 19, 2011 @ 9:15 PM

The moon. The road. The bus. The constant lights.

It isn't, his mind whispered to him.

Hesitantly he took another step forward, and his foot impacted the floor like an anvil. His heart beat furiously in his chest, and he waited. Silence.

Labels: fragments, stories

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Waiting For The Sun - Thursday, July 28, 2011 @ 5:49 PM

He smiled wryly as he saw her head towards it and then stop, not willing to sit and let him play the macho tower of strength.

"Its alright, you can sit. I'm sure you must be quite tired," he quipped, knowing that it would make her feel like doing the opposite.

"Thank you, yes I am." she said, smiling sweetly back at him, sliding not so effortlessly into the seat, her heels clattering awkwardly against the floor. Oh she hated those things.

He looked at her for a while, that perfect smile still on his face, and looked away. She was sure he was laughing ever so slightly in his head.

Just then an old lady got onto the bus, spotting her immediately she rose to give her seat away.

"You'll lose your balance," he told her, his eyes sparkling as he did. "someone else would've given up a seat, you needn't have."

Interesting, she thought.

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Its The Way We Feel - @ 5:15 PM

Suddenly the crowd roared as the ball burst free from the mass of players in front of him and a the opposition players ran on, the lumbering two metre tall Indian amongst them sprinting clear.

A chorus of shouts rose from the crowd as his team booted ball clear, high and far and he struggled to his feet. He looked around. The referee did not blow his whistle and play went on.

Football really was a contact sport. And unfair one too.

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Peanuts - Sunday, July 17, 2011 @ 6:35 PM

The family was sat around the table. A father, a mother, two children.

With one daughter in law and her three sons, the eight of them sat in the traditional chinese setting, waiting for their meal to start in a slightly awkward atmosphere.

The daughter fiddled for a moment with her nails. Then turned to her brother.

"Ah Guan, I ask you arh, should we buy a niche?"

The firstborn son, who happened to be right beside her perked his ears up. Niche...?

"A niche? Theres not much point, why you want to buy now?"

"Prices going up what, better buy first."

The son suddenly realized what they were talking about. He began to feel decidedly uncomfortable.

"How much is it over here? Its so expensive."

"$9000"

That was it, there was another plate of peanuts in front of him, and he took one.

"So expensive, whats the point, might as well just take your ashes and throw into the sea, its cheaper."

"You can't do that," the sister said, squirrelly in her mannerisms, "You have to apply for a lot of government permits, very troublesome."

"Well, my friends son died the other time and he just chucked the ashes into the ocean during a fishing trip, no hassle"

At this point the daughter in law at the table leaned over and whispered, "You're not talking about....them..?" glancing over at the Patriach and Matriach.

The siblings both shook their head.

The sister fidgeted again, "This isn't Malaysia, you can't do that over here, its different, besides I wouldn't want to be flung into the sea, might as well flush it down the toilet."

Her brother considered for a while then replied with typical practicality.

"Why don't you just buy a niche in Malaysia then, its cheaper over there."

"Who's going to carry my ashes over?"

"Well I can always do it, if there's no one to do it then no one is going to visit your niche anyway. In fact why even bother having a niche, might as well spend the money when you're still alive."

Her brother was relentless, "Think about it, with $9000 you can go on a holiday and return, you'll need the money more when you're alive than when you're dead."

He smiled at his irrefutable logic while his son shoved another 5 peanuts down his throat.

And he wondered why lunch could be so awkward.

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Sidestep - Thursday, July 7, 2011 @ 9:44 PM

And they were clearly enjoying themselves.

There would be a next time.

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Aggressive Negotiations - Tuesday, July 5, 2011 @ 7:44 PM

He hadn't even settled himself into the plush chair when President Dalia made her quick entrance, and he got up immediately, fumbling anxiously.

"Its alright Suvi, sit down, lets get to business." she said, sounding oddly flustered.

"Its about the Yishites"

This was going to be a long day he thought and sighed. Clearing his throat he spoke.

"I know what your bloody diplomatic stand is," she hissed. "They're killing our people, doesn't that mean anything to you."

He felt the blood drain from his face. They had thought about that, the king and his advisors, and he certainly felt an ache within his heart for the people of Jeannica.

"So thats it then isn't it. You're going to sit back there while they lob missile after missile into the country, crushing the lives of innocents?"

"Dali.."

"They've showed no sign of stopping, they have no reason to. They won't stop until they take back their holy land."

"We can try to push your case, however at the UN..."

Silence reigned for the next two minutes as Suvinder shifted uncomfortably in his chair. President Dalia called for a cup of wine and she drank it slowly from the glass. Swirling it, in thought.

"Tell me Suvi, what am I supposed to do?"

He did not answer, there was nothing to say.

She paused, taking another long sip from the glass.

"Naturally we found a solution, and we worked on it. And after five months, our scientists have finally got it." She stopped and look at Suvinder in the eye.

He felt a stirring in his stomach, something was oddly familiar about this, and it was not good.

"Ambassador Dali, over the past few months our Scientists have been working on nuclear technology. I must say, we tested the first one last week. We have about 300 bombs ready for deployment."

"You don't mean to say.."

"It is the only solution."

"Dali, you're talking about the massacre of millions, the death of an entire country, or at the very least permanently crippling an entire community."

He pulled away and looked out of the window.

"The UN won't stand for it, they'll condemn you."

"Keep looking out of the window Suvi, look at the people, the houses, the buildings. If things continue as they are everything you see will be destroyed in a rain of fire. Everyone will die."

President Dali walked to the window and stared out at the Jeannican landscape.

"There will be no survivors." she said touching the glass. And there was silence again.

Suvinder looked down, trying to find any semblance of comfort in the parquay floor. Tracing the lines in the wood, futilely.

Ambassador Gupta sat there, trying to accept the death of millions that lay before him, there had to be way to prevent it...to save those lives..

"Those lives worth saving Suvi? Worth sending Jothandan men to die for?"

He swallowed hard, how could he say no?

"How?"

"Fix it so we don't have to use the bombs. Stop the Yishites, tell your king and no one else. You know what will happen if the Yishites find out."

He nodded silently. They would strike first he knew, complete annihilation.

"Good." she said, stepping softly away from the window to the door. "I know you'll do the right thing Suvi. I'm sorry I have to force you this way, I realize its been hard."

He rose with a sigh, and brushed off the dust on his suit.

"Dali, you never do anything you feel isn't absolutely right. Its been hard on you too. I understand perfectly."

The two old friends regarded each other once more.

"I-" Dalia started as Suvinder opened his mouth. They both stopped and smiled a bit.

"You first," Suvinder offered

"No you."

He smiled again, it was pointless to argue.

"Thank you."

Words, hardly spoken genuinely and sincerely especially in the circles she traveled of late. Not in the political circles of endless plotting and calculation.

"Thank you too." She said warmly.

Suddenly catching sight of the clock on the wall behind him, she awoke from her happy mood with a start.

"I'm very sorry Suvinder but I must be going."

"I understand your excellency."

She tapped at the door and gestured at the attendant snoozing outside on an ornate chair.

"Charice could you please show Ambassador Gupta out and arrange an escort for him back to the embassy."

Dali Dali Dali...he thought, forever insisting on running his life.

For that he thanked the heavens.

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Awkward - Saturday, June 25, 2011 @ 9:03 PM

Regaining his balance, he looked up and stumbled out of the bus stop. The days had been bad as of late, it was almost as if he was in a permanent stupor, like he was drunk, except he hated alcohol.

"Hey..." She offered uncertainly, her voice faltering as her brain failed to find something else to say.

"Go away." He said, almost mumbling and muttering it, he turned away, hurt on his face.

She took a half step forward and reached her arm out to him, searching for words for the moment, there were only two.

"I'm sorry..."

She could see what he wanted, but also saw him fighting against it, and felt a tinge of regret spread within her.

"You didn't have to go."

Then he tore himself away from her, and looked at her in the face for the last time.

An icy chill gripped her heart as he said the words that she knew he would say. Don't say it, she silently begged, but as much as he didn't want to, he would.

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Humility, (or should it be patience, or even thick-skinnednness, whatever) - Saturday, June 11, 2011 @ 10:50 PM

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Double dose of meh - Sunday, June 5, 2011 @ 2:12 PM

So I was standing outside the cinema yesterday while we were getting tickets for Kung Fu Panda.

And then the huge screen flashing trailers suddenly began showing the video for Back To December.

But of course I was watching it, well half watching it since Taylor Swift is somewhat of a guilty pleasure. And then the chorus came up.

So this is me swallowing my pride

Standing in front of you saying

I'm sorry for that night,

I go back to December all the time

It turns out-

And just at that moment some super serious looking stockily built super super mutt looking malay dude in a vintage white T-shirt walks by, and not just mouthing the words, but singing them.

I laughed at him.

*********************************************************

He was at the bus stop again. It was raining. Heavily.

A pudgy man wearing an obnoxiously pink shirt blocked his path.

He tapped his card on the reader and wondered what he would do to the mindless creature. Right now there was nothing he wanted to do more than to ram the man's fluorescent shirt up his as-

Meh, let it go dude. Chill.

He hated his inner voice sometimes.

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No - Saturday, June 4, 2011 @ 10:31 PM

"Hey Crystal!"

Musn't. Stare. She told herself, she was after all a dignified girl of seventeen, with more than her fair share of suitors. He nearly caught her back then, but she had escaped, she hoped.

That was it, and as the train ground to a halt at the next stop, she titled her head ever so slightly and risked a glance.

He was looking straight at her.

She felt her heart leap, and couldn't tear her gaze away. And heart beating fast, watched as a slight smile broke out on his face, and he flashed her an outrageous open-mouthed wink.

There was only one word on her mind

Creep

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