The Rice Queen

He knows he has got it and he uses it to his full advantage. Like a stalking tiger, he waits in the grass, ever ready to pounce on his next victim. The empowerment that he feeds off comes partly from the physical features that he has inherited from his forefathers.

Blond. Blue haired. White man skin. The rarity that comes along with having these characteristics become even more valuable when he has a preference for Asian men over his own kind.

Because to begin with, not many white guys go exclusively for Asian men.

His built is does not need to be any different from the ordinary; not stunning, not muscular, not well toned, because these features do not matter. He doesn’t need to have a huge dick, or be good in bed. He does not need to dress up for the occasion, or own expensive clothes, or have a good sense of fashion; often the Rice Queen’s wardrobe is composed of oversized shirts with hideous floral motives, and probably the odd straw hat. Even facial features and expression can be mediocre but the simple reason why he remains valuable lies in the rarity of his preferences for Asian boys and his hair/eye/skin colour.

Because he targets such a specific market of people, and there are not many competitors, his face value is vastly exaggerated. He knows this well and works on these qualities to prey on the people who are seeking for them.

Like a tiger, he targets the weakest of the gazelles. He assesses the herd of Asians for the young ones. The vulnerable ones. The ones who are alone. The ones who are desperately looking for company. The Asian boys who are looking for someone who is dominant in the relationship. Someone who will show the way, to hold their hand through the uncertainty of being alone.

A notable mention is the young Asian boy who is an International Student or those new to the country. These people, having grown up in an Asian country where white men are revered and rare, and who are insecure because they don't have many friends to begin with when they arrive in a foreign land, easily fall prey to the Rice Queen's advances.

Even better still, the classic Asian-boy stereotype – he who doesn't have a very good command of English, who is psychologically (and physically) less dominant than the Rice Queen himself, who is vulnerable and needy, often lonely and seeking for a relationship.

Why is that? Because when you are all these qualities, you will grab whatever you can get. When a hand is extended out to you, you will trust that hand and be willing to hold it, even if that hand will one day be the one that molests you for all you’re worth.

The Rice Queen is careful that he does not pick on subjects that might end up liking him and sticking to him, preventing him from sleeping with other boys or bringing complication into the so-called relationship.

Interpretation: "If you are vulnerable, I'll take you in and fuck you. When you become needy and sticky, I have to move on, do away with you by chucking you aside and finding a new prey".

How does the Rice Queen operate?

Firstly he convinces them that he is able to care for them and "give them guidance". He acts as a "giver", often using the odd expensive dinner treat, presents, tickets to movies, clothes; freebies to show that he is a kind and generous person. Of course, the Rice Queen’s ultimate trump card is his credit card. Money to buy material wealth has always been appealing in any culture, be it Western or Asian. Now, consider a lonely Asian man who reveres white men, having received all these gifts; he will become blinded with infatuation.

The Asian man will feel that the Rice Queen can "provide" for him, and being vulnerable in his own self, he seeks out that provision because it fulfils his inner need for company and material wealth.

Now, whilst slowly creeping up to pounce on the Asian boy, this Rice Queen makes sure he puts in the disclaimer: "I am not looking for a relationship". Or even more down to earth, "I am only looking for friends". The Rice Queen has even come up with an amazing terminology for his subjects; Friends with Benefits.

In other words, "I want to be your friend so that you can provide me what I want; I want to fuck with your mind, molest your body, play with your emotions and spit your heart out when you start having feelings for me".

The Asian man doesn't see this though, much to the Rice Queen's advantage, who casually uses sex as a means of "showing that I care for you". What the Rice Queen is really doing now is, "I'll buy you dinner and you let me get into your pants".

Soon everything becomes conditional. His "investment" in the Asian boy must be returned, often in sexual favours. The Rice Queen makes sure he flirts with the Asian boy, pushing the subject of sex as a means of "providing" and "caring"

Naturally, by this point, the Asian boy has become so blinded by the fact that he is being used and manipulated that he is under the spell of the Rice Queen. The Asian boy tries to push the subject of a relationship with the Rice Queen who clearly seems unimpressed, because the mere prospect of the Rice Queen being in a relationship scares him. A relationship to him simply means, less assholes to fuck, more shit to deal with.

The Rice Queen decides to tell the Asian boy that he "can no longer see him" because the Rice Queen has laid the disclaimer in the beginning, "I do not want a relationship". The Asian boy feels his world crumbling down, is crushed by these words, and will become emotionally damaged. The scars that he sustains from the breakup will remain with him for life.

The Rice Queen then finds another Asian boy and the cycle repeats itself. Often, the Rice Queen has sex with several people at a time, using this scheme to get around and fuck up their minds.

I flirt with you. You like me because I'm rare. I take advantage of that, fuck your asshole till thy-kingdom-come, and when you become sticky I throw you away and find a new one.

Something like buying kitchen appliances. See how they work. See if they fit your lifestyle. Use them till they break apart, then it's the dumpster for them.

The Rice Queen has a trophy room, where all his "former fucks" are stored, and that trophy room is his online profile. Every boy that he sleeps with, he adds to his friend's list. It is an outward proclamation to the world that this are the people he's successfully manipulated, successfully gotten into bed with, successfully used and fooled. These people do not understand the significance of being on the Rice Queen's friend's list.

Occasionally the Rice Queen loses his "subjects" to other men, and the Rice Queen becomes possessive. To him, his "subjects" are not allowed to sleep with anyone else but him. He feels that because he buys them expensive presents, he is entitled to the exclusive right to copulate with them. He thinks he is the Alpha male, and his subjects are the boys under his harem. Sadly, more often than not, the Rice Queen becomes so possessive that the Asian boy detaches himself from the Rice Queen, completely banning him into oblivion.

This can also happen if the Asian boy realises that he's been used and manipulated; that all the RIGHT buttons have been pushed by the Rice Queen. That the Rice Queen merely sees him as another fuck, just another grain of rice in his fucking huge rice bowl.

I was once that Asian boy, and as for the identity of the Rice Queen, well, let’s just say you might just be too dazzled when you meet him to even notice.

我的爱

你是最好的，你知道吗?

你是最好的，你知道吗？

別管別人怎麼說

你知道你應該要怎麼做

我會給你一個肩膀

讓你停下來

擁抱著我

你是最好！

The De-vil

The Devil Wears Prada.

I see myself in the movie. Perctionist. Idealist. I want all those things. I want Chanel boots. I want D&G sunnies. Prada bags. I want to have it and I want it now. Sophistication. Complexity. Jimmy Choo's.

Plastic.

I want a plastic world for myself and for my boyfriend.

Dark cold street in the middle of so-called spring weather. Sodium lights emit an eerie yellow glare above my head, penetrating through the crowns of newly budding English Elms along Royal Parade. I can see my shadow cast on the tarmac below.

Square jawline.

Old dudes smoking outside the Royal Melbourne Hospital. This place is full of death and decay; people in strollers, smokers with tubes still attached to their chest, puffing away at the cigarette that will eventually kill them. Tonight though, I'm too preoccupied to care; I walk past them as they ask me to "spare them a ciggie”.

I do not wish to contribute towards your death, mister. Fuck off.

Wreckyn St and a few hundred meters to go. My legs are walking independent of my brain and I can’t feel them although I’m beginning to stride very fast now. Both my eyes are focused on the Carlton Draught signboard ahead of me in a distance but my mind is not thinking about rationality or direction.

Hyperventilating on the sidewalk. Tears in my eyes, blood in my veins.

I can’t breathe.

Shower treatment doesn’t do its magic the way it used to. 30-minute hot shower with water flowing across my face, unconcerned with the apparent drought in Victoria. I could get used to pampering like this.

~

Nasty messages being hurled across cyberspace; he's telling me what to do on MSN yet again. I seem to be unable to make my own choices, or change my mind on my stand without having to face the wrath from him. I'm sick of being fathered by someone who probably doesn't understand what it means to be me. By someone who has his own decadent morals which I don't question, even though it goes against my own principles.

Previously I thought he was just overreacting. We've been in arguments before, from trivial matters such as misunderstandings on MSN to larger issues such as being clingy. I've tried my very best to deal with these things but apparently the issue lies much deeper down inside; he has feelings for me and wants me to be his "Friend With Benefits", whilst retaining his status as a "single gay man" who "sleeps with other Asians".

I have fallen in love with the boyfriend due to reasons I cannot yet explain in words. I have chosen him over many others to share my deepest feelings and thoughts with, on a level of intimacy unsurpassed by any other person and I have identified him as someone whom I'll give my undue affection attention and love.

And in doing so I have evoked the devil named Jealousy in someone else who has taken the issue personally.

The Devil Wears Jealousy.

Tonight I am ready to emancipate him from me, and it will be done without any remorse. I have decided to distance myself, reverting once more to my old ways of severing off people to retain my sanity.

I don't need to be told what to do. I don't need to answer to anyone.

I am not an object to be desired or owned.

The emancipation begins now.

Hearts

Hearts collected in one day, messages sent in the last 17 hours.



So much for popularity.

Email

Thank you for sending a lot of messages. However, I am not good at writing English. Therefore a reply is not possible. I'm sorry. Please understand it. In addition, a chat is not possible, too.

So much for communication.

Competition

Mr. Bunny Teeth, the name I personally christened him with, is a Singaporean guy who's a first year student in my university. I know this because he's worn his Singapore Navy singlet reminiscent of his National Service days and I've seen him around first year lecture areas.

So Mr. Bunny Teeth, or BT got his name because he has two front teeth that are like huge spades; they jut out of his mouth in the most peculiar manner and whenever he smiles you get to see the resemblance of a cute fuzzy animal with two long ears and a bushy tail.

Think HUGE two-front-teeth.

Then again BT has a very peculiar jaw line and lips that remind me of a constipated horse, so I wouldn't exactly consider him cute and fuzzy.

I enrolled in the gym around March this year, just a month after commencing my first semester and he enrolled at around the same time. Both of us were enthusiastic lean hardworking kids who woke up one day thinking, yeah, I'm going to pump iron so that I too can have man-breasts to impress the world.

Like really, his body wasn't any better than mine. Slim at the sides, skinny twig-like arms, spindly legs; duh, of course I've checked him out. What are you supposed to do in a gym apart from working out, stare at the ceiling??

BT and I have never talked to each other. We simply see each other regularly at gym in the evening and we do pretty much the same workout; lat pull downs, bench presses, incline dumbbell bench, seated row, seated bicep curl, pectoral fly, squats, calf raises, one arm row... the list of exercises that we share in common just goes on and on.

He started out just as light as I did, around 20kg on the bench press, so I reckon his upper body strength was no greater than mine.

Soon we were progressing towards more advance workouts, varying the types of exercises we did such as using the Swiss ball and crunches on the incline bench. Every time I looked a him I felt he was constantly feeling lost; like his mind was never fully focused on his workout. He would wander around the gym, looking for a nice spot to put his water bottle, hand towel and gym workout table. Occasionally a long water-fountain break but nothing major. His rests between sets ranged from 2 minutes to around 5, and I was probably doing 1.5 minutes at most.

We came to a point where we started experimenting with other forms of exercise; he had supervision from his personal trainer and I had mine, so we started to diverge into more advance workouts and the intensity kept increasing as the months went by, adding more weights, adding more sets.

We started off pretty similarly, with similar goals in mind; to achieve the perfect body that everyone would ooogle and gooogle over.

BT went back for the winter break because I noticed his absence when I was working out during those few weeks. This coincided with the time I got a part time job and also trips to Perth and the like, so my gym routine became more and more incoherent. I was feeling extremely tired after work and study, and even more so with the bloody student union commitments (being part of the committee) so naturally I stopped going to the gym as often as I did in previous months

Today, after more than 3 months since I last saw him, BT was working out in the gym at the same time as me.

He had a bloody huge chest.

And a huge fucking pectoralis major, biceps, and triceps.

What's more, he had developed his latissimus dorsi so much to a point that you could see the ripples forcing its way out of his ultra-tight Adidas shirt to suggest whatever underlying was good and yummy.

He had a new haircut to replace his dorky NS-style crew cut, and he definitely had a new pair of runners. Like, my mouth was opened so large, I could have swallowed an elephant and not have noticed.

BT. The horse faced boy. Ripped, muscular, and grunting with every lift of the 20kgs PER ARM he carried while doing dumbbell bench.

Immediately my attention was drawn to my own scrawny figure in the mirror; not only did I have a relatively flat chest, I also had little bicep-tricep muscles to show off. My back was certainly as flat as an airport runway, a 777 would have no trouble taking off and landing across it.

And the most embarrassing thing was that in my hands were two 15kg dumbbells, doing a dumbbell bench press. He was doing 25kgs.

It dawned to me how much I've slacked, how far I've been left behind, how little sleep I must have been getting, how poorly coordinated my meals were and how much junk food has passed through my gut since we started off as equals. To me, the competition was great, and I felt like I was at the bottom of the ladder.

Talk about insecurity.

I think I must have been staring at BT so hard that he started to give me the raised-eyebrow look so I abandoned my pursuit of another set at the bench area and ran towards the other edge of the gym to do some lat pull downs. Lo and behold, 5 minutes into the workout and the rival is opposite me, doing twice the weights I am doing, grunting twice as hard as I am grunting, and having 5 extra reps than I have. Hello, don’t you get me, STAY AWAY! Obviously, I felt he was trying to intimidate me, but maybe it was just all in my head.

At that very moment, I felt as though whatever self worth that I had left was thrown onto the floor and crushed by a stampede of angry rhinos.

I mean... What the fuck

I spent $90 today buying groceries and supplements for the next week. And I pushed myself so hard in the gym, my arms hurt like crazy. They're about to fall off their sockets.

I'm insecure. I can't overcome the insecurity so I'm pushing myself like I always do.

Because that's the only way I've been trained to deal with it.

Push harder.

Banner

In response to an email I received, the image that is currently being used as my new banner was taken using my very own camera. Yup, it is not copyrighted material, and I took the picture using my Canon A610 from the top of Rialto towers in Melbourne.

It's original.

So don't go pissing me off with copyright laws :)

Kepincangan

Bagaikan bara api yang hampir terhembus

Berdirinya ku di sini

Melawan kehendak untuk melarikan diri

Melawan nafsu yang tiada kawalan

Memberi peluang kepada diriku

Memahami kebolehanku

Hanya tinggal sisa-sisa badanku

Setelah dibaham kejahilan dunia

Siapakah yang mampu menolongku

Ku yang serba kepincangan ini~?

Kasih

Tanpa ragu-ragu, saya berjalan terhadap tren yang menunggu di stesyen tersebut. Sekarang sudah lewat malam; tiada orang menaiki tren melainkan saya dan seorang warga tua.

Pemikiran saya sudah lama berserabut memikirkan makna perasaan ini. Kenapa saya rasa tertagih terhadap pegangannya? Kenapa tanpa ciuman dan kasih sayang, saya terasa aneh dan keseorangan?

Bunyi loceng di persimpangan tren. Di luar, kelihatan samar-samar cahaya menyinari bumbung rumah dan jalan raya, menembus kegelapan malam yang menyelubungi bangunan-bangunan sejauh mata memandang. Meniti permandangan di luar, saya teringatkan tanah air yang terasa begitu jauh dari sini, seolah-olah saya berada di dunia yang berlainan.

Teringatkan makanan yang saya gemari, teringatkan sahabat yang saya rindui.

Semalam dia bagaikan tidak memahami kehendak saya, bagaikan tidak mahu mendengar keperluan saya. Bagi dia, tinggal di rumah berlainan lebih penting daripada tinggal bersama. Sukar katanya. Walaupun saya memahami pandangannya, namun setelah berada dalam hubungan jarak jauh sebelum ini, saya tidak mampu menerima hakikat bahawa kita akan senantiasa diasingkan, senantiasa dijarakkan.

Saya mudah terasa keseorangan jikalau dijarakkan daripadanya. Namun kalau itulah kehendaknya, siapa saya untuk menghalangnya? Setahu saya menjelang bulan sebelas, saya terpaksa pindah rumah. Tempoh sewa sudah tamat; mereka yang lain yang tinggal di rumah itu juga hendak mencari tempat sendiri. Yakni enam orang di bawah satu bumbung sukar dikawal, sukar hidup bersama.

Kalau mengikut kehendak saya, saya lebih rela berpindah masuk tinggal dengannya. Dua hari yang lalu dia memberi maklum kepada saya bahawa saya menganggunya tidur pada waktu malam. Tanpa disedari, semasa tidur atas katil yang sama, saya akan cuba merapati badan saya dengannya, memberi peluk dan kasih. Dalam matanya tabiat ini tidak boleh diterima kerana tidurnya diganggu. Dia memarahi saya kerana menghendakkan peluk; katanya ruang peribadi amat penting baginya semasa tidur. Adakah wujudnya insan yang tiada menghendakkan kasih pada waktu malam?

Aneh.

Persoalannya sekarang adalah: perlukah kita beli tilam supaya saya dapat tidur di atas lantai pada waktu malam semasa berkunjung semalaman? Adakah saya patut tidur di atas lantai untuk mengelakkan diri daripada "mengacau" tidur si-raja ini yang menghendakkan "ruang peribadi" semasa tidur?

Sejak hari itu saya terasa bagi dia, perhubungan ini setakat rakan sebaya.

Apakah itu kasih? Adakan kasih menghendakkan tolak ansur sesama dua individu, ataupun salah satu menetapkan "peraturan" mengikut kehendaknya, salah satu mengubahkan diri untuk memenuhi "peraturan" tersebut? Kenapakah saya terpaksa mengubahkan diri saya agar lebih sesuai baginya?

Tren sudah mula bertolak. Ai, ketinggalan stesyen pula.

Deja Vu

Music

Thunder in my veins

In my head

In my blood

I feel it hurting me

I can't get enough of it

Give it to me~

Hopeless

I have not reached my goals and I don’t seem to be bothered by the fact that I’m falling further behind

Ever since I came to Melbourne I have become a lazy bastard. People are paying their asses out to get me to study here and I am merely slacking day by day, spending time on the internet and sleeping in bed, or worse, working in some stupid restaurant that pays me peanut money so that I can spend it at some bloody night club with trashy people.

I have adopted the Melbournian lifestyle of live-first-work-later, and I am adhering to their lazy principles because I can.

I know that my exams are not far away but I'm doing nothing at all to revise whatever I've learnt. Going to lectures seem to be a routine of collecting whatever notes that are handed out rather than a learning opportunity. Whatever that saves me is the past knowledge I gained in A Levels. I'm not learning anything new, nor do I bother.

I have not been consistent with my gym workout. I've come up with excuses to stay away from the gym. I am constantly tired at work and constantly fucked up over relationships so the last thing I want to do at the end of the day is pick up some iron and pump away at it. I'm no good at coming up with excuses; they are always the same= "I'm tired". If I had a dollar for every instance I used the word "tired" in my daily vocabulary, I'd probably be a very rich man now.

I have a tummy building up there, my biceps/triceps have shrunk after three months of consistent workouts, my chest has become flat and it now look no different from what it used to be nine months ago before I signed up for gym.

My eating is up in shits. I'm having cereal for lunch and a few slices of bread for dinner. I used to be on Indomee but now that I’ve run out I haven’t bothered to buy anymore. I'm not drinking water because I'm too lazy to go to the toilet, and I'm not eating fruits because the last few times I bought them I forgot to eat them so they fell prey to some fungi. I still haven't got over the bags of apples I threw away because they were worms in it.

My bank account is filled with money because I’m not spending on the things that are important to me, and I’d rather stay at home than go out to Safeway to get myself something decent to eat. Besides, I’ve got heaps of instant oats in the cupboard, so why bother.

My relationships with people are all but non-existent as I pursue the significant-other, and I think I've not been paying enough attention to the people who care for me and who have been constantly trying to get me out for coffee. I think I've stopped replying their messages because I'm either not bothered or simply too busy.

I am becoming a horrible person, a monster, and I don't know how to reverse the damage.

I've been telling myself to study for the last 10 hours but up till now I haven't even picked up a bloody book.

Somebody save me from myself, as I have no more self dignity.

I have no more faith in what I can and cannot do.

New Layout

Spent three hours revamping this blog's layout because I have nothing better to do and no where to go.

Yeah. I like the colour black even though it's associated with negativity and death.

Deal with it.

Un-Malaysian

Now now, I don't have long hair, I don't have a nose job, I didn't bleach my skin and I don't sleep with underaged boys.

And my voice isn't like someone who's on an overdose of oestrogen.

Anyway. This is how un-Malaysian I am, apparently. Got this off the kennysia blog.

Congratulations, you are 87% not Malaysian.

That means you're as Malaysian as...

Michael Jackson!

How Un-Malaysian Are You?

The Job

Bloody lazy workers.

Bits of cabbage strewn on the floor in a trail. Tomato slices lining the table. Ketchup staining the metal surfaces. Oil dripping from the sides of the fryer. Squeeze bottles with sauce all over its neck, and bits of cucumber left on the grill until they've charred into a black lump of ash.

Timers are beeping in all directions. Every damn thing is calling out to you. Take me out of the oil. Steam the buns. Take me out of the toaster. The eggs are cooked so put down the patties. Take me out of the steamer. Top up the shake mix. Fill up the ice bucket. I've been hearing the beeps in my sleep lately. They haunt me.

Seventy two beef burgers churned out in thirty minutes. Both of my hands are working now, balancing between putting enough of onions and cheese to flipping the bloody burger patties that don't seem to be cooking. Its rush hour now and the bloody fat customers at the counter are angry; they're waiting for more fat to stuff down their trunk-sized necks.

That's why I've been hired. I make the world a fatter place.

Hot steam spraying in my face. 90-degree water to wash the metal utensils, burning my hands in the process. The caustic chemicals that I use to get rid of the grease eat away into my nails. They've been peeling and chipping so badly that I've had to cut my nails every two days. I'll never get have pretty nails like Paris Hilton if I keep up at this pace.

Wipe the floor. Make that sandwich. Put down some patties. Wash that pile of trays. Wipe of the grease on the cupboard surface. Evil voices speaking to me. The fuckwit is doing it again, bossing me around. I only have two hands, thank you, and they refuse to do whatever you tell me. Now you can go pull your hair and jump around in funny circles because I'm just going to ignore you and give you the I-am-busy-so-piss-off look.

Scooping up the dirt from the dirt trap in the sink, I spot a few disgusting objects in the mess of rotting potato chips and old veggies. I don't even want to play guess-what-the-stinky-blob-is. It smells rancid, like something that died down there.

Freshly fried nuggets flying across the floor. Tempers are flaring across the kitchen. Someone's having her period today. Spare the chicken patties please, they're innocent.

Chicken patties flying across the floor.

~

Robbie's on shift today. He walks past me and I get a whiff of his aftershave; it smells cheap and full of alcohol. He must have bought it off a shelf in 7-Eleven. I, in comparison, smell of grease and dirt so who am I to judge.

His hair is dirty-hazel and he has eyes the colour of Blu-tack. Sharp chin and nose, with a well defined forehead. I've seen him undress in the locker room before, and he definitely has some good stuff under that uniform. Downside: He speaks with such a heavy accent that I am certain I only understand half of what he is really saying.

I thought he was a very shy guy until he started talking to me. After that short conversation that lasted for not more than five minutes, I now think he's an asshole.

Then again like all lollies, they're much better to look at then to eat.

~

I can see a huge gash on my manager's leg. He's hopping in pain now, apparently he rammed his leg into a stack of crates that were sticking out in a walkway and hurt himself. That must have been me; I was taking crates out from the corner.

He's cursing now, screaming at the wall. I can hear F*** words being flung into every direction.

What he doesn't know, he doesn't need to know. Serves the bastard right.

~

Clock off. We're running like little kids to the locker room to get changed. Everyone's happy except Mr. Manager who hasn't finished his job counting the stock because he spent one hour nagging about his stupid leg, so he'll have to stay back and finish the job while we make a dash for the doors. I can't feel my fingers; they are numb and wrinkly from all the water that they've been in contact with for the past three hours. I smell of cow-fat and I have a drop of mustard sauce on my shoe. Robbie's undressing next to me so nonchalantly. I wonder what he'd say if he knew what I was thinking.

Then again, most guys probably won't care if I think they have cheap underwear and they look fat in purple.

I'm gulping down apple pies that were given to me for free because they couldn't sell. They taste very sweet, and I burn my tongue biting off the tip of the bloody pie.

I should probably get another job.

你是心中的日月

手中握著格桑花呀
美的讓我忘了摘下
妳的真 帶著香 妳的香 會說話
妳的話 好像只 對我說

我的專長叫做流浪
妳註定要為我綻放
我的心 尋找家 我的家 沒有花
我的花卻在這山谷等著我

若一開始 沒有上帝 暗中偷偷的慫恿
我們怎知選擇相逢

你是心中的日月 落在這裡
旅程的前後多餘 只為遇到妳
多麼想幻化成為妳腳下的泥
此刻的無人山谷 彷彿聽見說愛妳

你是我心中的日月光芒

我的漂泊不懂泥巴
妳的美麗不堪動盪
妳單純 我迷惘 妳戀家 我流浪
山谷中 這一切 帶不走

妳愛抬頭擁抱陽光
我得眺望下個前往
我走開 妳留下 我回憶 妳昇華
至少我們會仰望同一片天空

若一開始 沒有上帝 暗中偷偷的慫恿
我們怎知選擇相逢~喔
你是心中的日月 落在這裡
旅程的前後多餘 只為遇到妳
多麼想幻化成為妳腳下的泥
那天的無人山谷（那一天）彷彿聽見說愛妳

置身在 傳說中 人間天堂
妳是我 心中的 日月光芒
帶領我 找到妳 的芬芳
放不下

你是心中的日月 落在這裡
旅程的前後多餘 只為遇到妳
多麼想幻化成為妳腳下的泥
那天的無人山谷 彷彿聽見說愛妳
那天聽見說愛妳

Budak Cina

I feel like a Chinese boy.

Like, really really Chinese.

累

觉得一点儿累

不想上课。不想出去玩儿。

想死他

Tidur

Aku memandang jam di dinding; pukul tiga. Kenapa aku tidak mampu menidurkan diri? Kenapa aku terasa sedikit letih namun tidak mahu menutupkan mata?

Sejak kita bertemu, malam tanpa kau bagaikan kemarau yang berpanjangan. Kaulah "air" yang memberi kehidupan kepada hatiku yang kering.

Aku tidak yakin pada diriku kerana aku sudah lama tidak merasai cinta sebegini. Sejak berpisah dengan temanku, aku hanya tahu melayan nafsuku yang buas. Sejak hatiku diracau olehnya, aku tidak pernah mampu mencintai seseorang selain diriku sendiri.

Seringkali aku menggunakan matawang untuk mendapatkan kegembiraan daripada orang lain. Namun kini aku mendapati aku tidak perlu membeli cinta daripadamu. Aku terasa selamat dalam pegangan kau. Aku terasa kenyang menerima ciuman kau yang bertalu-talu walaupun ciuman bukannya sesuatu yang aku sering menghendaki. Apakah perasaan itu? Adakah itu cinta?

Apakah cinta?

Di luar, hujan turun renyai-renyai, bagaikan melambangkan air mataku yang jatuh ke bumi kerana kau tiada di sisiku. Sejuk. Keseorangan.

Mungkin pada malam ini, aku tiada tidur lena.

Kehendakmu

Aku kurang mengerti, sebab-sebab kau tidak memahamiku walaupun sudah lama kita bertemu. Bukannya ku mahu segunung emas mahupun segengam air mata; ku hanya mengharapkan kau memberiku peluang menjelaskan pemikiranku yang berserabut di minda, yang mencucuk di dada, yang membuatkan ku pilu di subuh dan loya di senja.

Sejak kita bertemu, hatiku sakit memikirkan situasi sulit yang kita hadapi. Sejak bila kau diberi kuasa memijak perasaanku, sejak bila kau diberi nikmat menentukan perasaanku? Aku bukannya binatang di padang, aku bukan pokok di lumpur. Akulah manusia seperti mu, akulah insan yang mampu merasa sakit.

Adakah kau faham, hatiku tiada sebarang benci terhadapmu?

Ku hanya mampu berdiri di sini memandang mu dengan mata kecewa. Ku tiada mampu selalu melawan kata-kata kau yang menyakiti telinga. Adalah pendirianku memberi kau peluang untuk menuturkan kata-kata yang kau simpan di hati, adalah pendirianku memberi kau kepercayaan tanpa soal.

Ku hanya mampu senantiasa memberi mu kehendakmu. Ku tiada berdaya mempelopori usaha menjelaskan pendirianku walaupun itulah yang ku kehendaki

Kau hanya berdiri di situ, memandangku dengan mata angkuh. Benar, ku faham kepincangan ku, tetapi kau juga perlu tahu yang ku benar benar tiada ruang mengundur diri, kerana ku kini dibekukan dalam pegangan mu.

Berilah ku peluang mencintai mu

Berilah ku peluang memahami mu

Berilah ku peluang memegang mu dalam tanganku yang tiada lagi segan

Birthday Girl

Three ml of Issey to drench my skin. Two squirts of Biotherm to moisturise my face. Finger nails carefully clippered, hairline carefully trimmed. Expensive fabric to drape over my body, expensive pants to cover up my legs. Polished leather shoes to match, and an apple-flavoured chewing gum for my mouth.

Carefully chosen presents in a tiny bag that cost me a day's salary. Walking towards the tram stop, I casually unbutton my newly bought Boss. The weather's cold. People will notice I'm not doing this because it's hot, but because I want to feel hot.

Yeah well. I try sometimes.

30 minutes at Melbourne Central waiting for someone who doesn't turn up. Walking down towards Lt Bourke St I feel slightly dismayed at the outcome, and yet at the same time slightly nonchalant.

I'm greeted by 9 people sitting around the table, ready to go chomp chomp on the delicious Chinese food in front of them. Three quarters not comfortable with using chopsticks, so wrestling with the food was accompanied with the isolated and sporadic conversations about everything from slip discs to Thai-made shirts.

The Birthday Girl is happy to see me. We've not met in months. Giving her a nice hug, I realise how much this means to me, to be able to catch up on where we last left off and to think about what the future might be... I realise how much I've neglected my "straight" friends in being selfish and picky about my acquaintances.

I realise how much I've missed out, and how much my friends really care for me.

I must have been blind to have come this far.

Drunk

I'm walking down Elizabeth St with three grocery bags in my hand. He says I need to eat more so he's stocked me up with Hummus and Kangaroo meat and a whole bunch of yummy stuff from Safeway. He's becoming more and more like my boyfriend, trying to make me fat before he decides that I’m plump and ready to be eaten.

Some idiot is screaming at me and calling me a cunt as I chat away on the mobile phone. He's in his car and is probably just as drunk as I am, but I take little notice of him. I'm too busy chatting with H while I wait for a tram on Elizabeth St. I've not seen him for a while; perhaps he's been busy on his own affairs. He tells me about his sickness and the quiet weekend he's had and for a moment I sort of feel like I'd like to give him a nice big hug. But perhaps that won't be necessary; he seems to be coping well.

Earlier I had dinner at Chom Chom with D and he's been really reciprocative of my advances. Small flirtatious nods of agreement are returned by the casual desire to use chopsticks although forks and spoons would have been so much easier. He’s a sloppy eater when it comes to chopsticks, but I really can’t blame him. He’s trying really hard.

He likes the noodles, he says, and it isn't like anything he'd tasted before. I'll bet he'll go crazy when he tastes the food we have closer to home, in Malaysia.

Hairy Canary and some Spanish doughnuts that look phallic. The chocolate sauce that we're supposed to dip it in tastes really yummy, with a hint of citrus in the smooth thick cocoa. He beckons me bite off a piece that he had dipped into the chocolate, and I find that mildly sexual. Maybe I'm just having dirty thoughts.

I'm walking in zigzag patterns on the street, trying to make sense of all this. I don't think I hear the cars that whiz past me at break neck speed, but I certainly can see the road ahead.

I have never been drunk before. This is definitely a first.

One Sake too many, at Golden Monkey. The waitress gave us 900ml of Sake instead of the 300ml that we requested and we got a shock when we found out that the bill came up to $59. The cute guy behind the counter was kind enough to give us 900ml for the price of $16, and I reckon it was because I he felt sorry I had the sulky look on my face... It was nice; sitting on comfortable couches sipping away copious amounts of Sake wondering why it didn't run out, hugging each other and landing kisses on each other's cheek like there was no tomorrow.

Free alcohol for the soul, free kisses for the cheek. I'm drunk and I am madly in love.

I'll need recovery soon.

Hope

Sweat

Sweat on my back. I am walking along a street that I've become familiar with. I have been here enough times to observe the colours and sounds of this street. The way in which the trees bend northward. The cars that are always parked at the exact same spot since my last visit. The faint smell of the flowers from a bush that I've walked by, perhaps 20 or so times.

This place is becoming familiar to me and I have begun to associate myself with it.

Knock knock.

A cat greets me at the door. Fluffy black-brown-grayish cat with very pronounced tabby patterns on its forehead. A wagging tail is reciprocated with a pat on the head. He's come to say hi.

Yummy tomato base pasta with tuna chunks. He doesn't realise how much I love his cooking even though it is simple. Slurping up copious amounts of Fettuccini as I lay on his bed, I notice how the sheets smell strongly of him. I must be going crazy. I'm falling in love with his scent.

Two bowls of oats to further fill me up. He calls it porridge and I find it funny. He doesn't seem to understand why I do, and I find that teasingly amusing.

~

Sweat on my brow. I awake in the middle of the night to find his hand is on my chest and I find it hard to breathe. He's gone to sleep now, and I am wide awake. 5.30am on the clock; the sun must be rising soon. The wind is blowing strongly outside, and I can hear the gentle rustle of leaves outside the window permeate through the darkness. What is this feeling that I don't seem to comprehend? What is that warmth that keeps me alive? What is that passion?

He grunts a little and turns to face the other side of the bed. I notice the freckles on his back. I wonder if he feels me consciously running my finger across them. I feel like a child again. I'm joining the dots on his back trying to make sense of the irregularity.

I'm definitely insane.

Puss the cat is outside the door as I slowly open it. He's not sleeping either.

Cold water running down my throat to quench my thirst. Puss curls up around my leg, waving his tail in the air as though he's come to inspect me. He must hate the fact that I've taken away his privileged spot as the centre of attention for the night.

~

Sweat on my palms. Connex is on time today, albeit an empty train. My legs feel heavier than usual and my mind is full of thoughts. I am not ready to work on the weekend, and I am not ready to take a break from these intense feelings that I've been indulging myself in. I smell of burgers again, wearing my uniform. I've tried washing it, soaking it, scrubbing it, but the smell wouldn't go away. I don't understand how the girl sitting next to me doesn't feel the urge to vomit.

Melbourne Central platform is deserted. People don't seem to go out on weekends; I reckon they must be at home sleeping or having a good time in the company of friends. What about me? What am I doing here all alone?

Rain falling on my head and wind blowing through my thin blue shirt. I feel cold and lifeless.

~

Sweat on my chest. I'm lying in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering why I feel the way I do. The spot next to me is empty and I notice the absence of his warmth and his touch. I've become addicted to the closeness that I've been exposed to, and I've become dependent on the feelings associated with that closeness.

I feel lonely, and that feeling doesn't seem to go away. I consciously rub the empty spot next to me with my hands, imaging that perhaps somehow under my sheets I'd find his warm hand to hold for the night.

Perhaps not.

Letter to God

Dear God,

I have not been speaking to you for a while because I don't know what to say to you. Perhaps because I've elevated you to a state of divine existence that I no longer feel the need to converse with You on a personal basis. Perhaps because of my own self righteousness and selfishness, I have turned inward for direction and neglected Your soft whispers which pass by unnoticed. But now that I have felt the effects of my own doing, I am afraid of what I may be up for and unsure if I am prepared to face it on my own, and now I am coming to You as a last resort for help as I always do.

Help me to not constantly seek affection from a person as a means of overcoming my loneliness. I do not need to constantly prove myself to another person as means of gaining acceptance. I do not have to put on beautiful clothes or spend ridiculous amounts of money so that the neighbour next door will notice me.

I do not have to work out in the gym so that I look like a swimwear model before a person can look at me and appreciate what they see. I do not have to study hard and score straight A's before someone notices that I have intellect, nor I do not have to be on Speed to show that I'm a member of the crowd and I'm willing to take up something that will fuck my brains inside out to prove that point.

But I forget these facts so easily, and I constantly have to remind myself that I am more than they say I am.

I am more than they say I am.

Help me to stop improving myself just so that I can meet the expectations of those who see me as an object. Do I really gain happiness from knowing that I am eyed jealously by people, or is it more as a means of dealing with the fear of being inadequate such that expressions of my true capabilities are masked behind a carpet of self-conjured delusions to make them seem adequate to the discerning eye?

I know what I wanted when I first came here but it has become blurry to me. Perhaps after the drinks and the dance has worn off, perhaps after the sex becomes dry, perhaps after the stomach feels hungry and the music stops playing, I will come to my senses. I will come to realise what is truly important for me, and what is truly important to those around me.

I pray that I may learn all these skills, not so much the skills being passed on to me through literature and lectures, but through the hardships of life that so fervently express themselves around me as though they've been created to haunt me. Help me learn from them that I may still remain strong despite the lack of strength, and happy despite the lack of joy.

Perhaps one day when I look back on today I will realise how far I have come from where I first started of. Then again perhaps I will only see myself sink deeper into this monster we call depression.

I pray that You will be with me as I undertake this task that has been delegated to me, because I'm not sure if the little strength I have would be sufficient to carry the load that I have to bear.

But more importantly, help me realise that I really don't need affection and affirmation from anyone but myself. Anything that comes is extra, but whatever lacks thereof is whatever needs to be filled with my own strength and perseverance, because I am the only one who can provide it to myself unconditionally.

Amen.

Difference

I am at his place as I type this, while he cooks me a yummy steak sandwich in the kitchen. I have assignments to complete and a test to study for tomorrow but these priorities can wait for now.

One cannot imagine, that one would be granted more than one opportunity to make a difference in another person's life.

And for once, that person was someone other than myself.

Change

I can smell it all over my hands. Grease between my finger nails, soap lathered all over my forearms. The skin on my fingers is peeling from all the hot water and chemicals that I use to clean up the utensils and bowls. My mind is racing to the thought of falling asleep on the mess on the floor that I've created. My manager is screaming her head off. I can't hear her. It's all blurry.

Holding a bag in his hand, I spot him standing by the main entrance to my work place. It is a surprise. He has come to take me home.

The weather is warm but his hands are even warmer. I feel afraid to clutch them in mine as we walk through suburbia; with the constant thought of someone leaping out of the bushes and attacking me I don't think I can afford to take the risk.

Then again my feelings must be premature.

Flagging down a taxi on Victoria St. The taxi driver doesn't seem to know the way; he must be new to this job. Pete Murray on the stereo, doing his thing with a guitar. I notice I have a hard on.

He stays in a small house with polished floor boards. Mr Cat greets us at the door, eagerly anticipating whatever it is cats anticipate. Or at least, I assume so; his tail is engaged in a flurry of activity. He must be jealous that I've come to replace him as the centre of attention for the night. Poor cat.

I can feel his warmth on my body now as we lay side by side on fluffy pillows. The soft touch of his lips pressed against mine, hands running through my hair like it was the most natural thing to do. Flashes of the Market appearing in my mind. Where is my mind when I need it to be here?

I don't know how to make sense of this. I'm feeling things I've never felt in a long long time.

I'm starting to learn how to love again.