Just tonight.

Top pic: Otaru Canal, Jan 2016

Tonight

I feel

I touch

I moan

I crave

I cry

I gasp

Eyes shut tight.

Dreams

Sleep won't come

Blessed at the feet

of the Nocturnal God.

There he comes

there he goes.

I grab at all corners

Tearing me out

I longed for more

For crying out loud.

Such a fool

I was

to have played this game

A virgin to love-makers

A mare with no mane.

Past the river of lost souls

I walked

Look up!

I see a blue moon

Look down!

My own reflection.

In my dreams

I was not alone.

To know more or less.

"In most case scenarios, it hurts to know more than what's necessary," Kais exclaimed before tossing a rock which would skid across the very flat and still surface of Lake Darling. Jo bit her lip in attempt to resist a snort. She saw through her brother's lame antics.

"And on what grounds can you justify your previous statement,"

Kais smirked before picking up another stone, "You should inflect your voice when you ask questions. It gives people an involuntary snap like a notification ring to allow for response techniques to gear up," 

"I have reiterated this same question many times before,"

"Every situation covers a different setup, Josephine. I am preparing you for future conversations with people whom may struggle recognizing a question asked without intonation. I can understand because I am Kais. They wouldn't..."

Kais failed to retain Jo's concentration. When she casually looked to her left, she took an interest in a man slinging a plastic bag thrice the size of his head over his shoulder while pushing a stroller in front. It turned out to be a double-stroller; not that Jo had properly seen it but she could pick out two distinctive voice sources from the people crammed arch bridge making hysterically loud wails. It also helped that almost every head turned momentarily to look at the father for no more than a second; creating a sudden lapse in the typical Sunday evening ambiance which somewhat inclined any moving person to focus on this very particular man to see how he would choose to respond to a socially not so favorable situation. 

But the man did not make any attempt to silence his children and chose to remain on the arched bridge, oblivious to any form of message by strong eye contact. Then, people tried to figure out what he had transfixed beneath his gaze for so long. Kais by now had too taken notice of the sudden hot attention spurrer within their neighborhood park.

"That man seemed to be standing dead still. Not moving at all,"

"Probably. Hence the silent commotion,"

Two women approached him from different angles, attempting conversation. Still no sign of movement from the man except of that, his still stature. The women then resorted to kneeling at the feet of the stroller, calming the children. 

"I have my suspicions," Jo suddenly said.

"Mmm. Speak your mind,"

"That the man either wants to escape from reality or is lost in it,"

Kais did not speak for a while. 

"Probably."

Jo tried to relocate the spot where Kais's first rock sank.

"In this case, it's better to know less,"

Hays Paddock

I remember clearly now

The mild cold of the early autumn breeze

 Back then

how the earth slightly crumpled

as it bore the weight 

of an Unexpected visitor

to its clear fields of green.

The fields would soon flush green

As new emerging light rays pierced past

At once

the greens glistened and renounced 

the mere passing 

of another transient cold spell-

welcoming

The arrival of the After rain.

With every step 

accompanied a lingering chill

shared by no other

For I came as one.

As I soaked and submerged

into the remains of a previous cycle

I looked towards front-

Up ahead

there laid a small junction.

Turn left?

Turn right?

And there I stood.

Honest letter to Hae #1

By and large, I just realized how deprived I was of life itself.

In my possession, I have everything. I have been blessed with a family who raised me with love. On my dinner table I am served food often in excess with too much to eat. My room can be air-conditioned to the right temperature to bring comfort throughout warm, hazy days. Without even giving any effort, I have been gifted a full hierarchy of needs since the day I was born.

But I find it increasingly more difficult to sleep at night. My mental and physical state does not wear me enough to succumb to sleep. And I have come to this stage because my past opportunities missed, albeit choices which could have been better made.

Yes, I am dwelling upon my past. I want this post to be marked as a grave reminder of how much of my youth I've wasted for 19 years. What could have been more to fill my future days with promise of zest.

I need to "live". And saying isn't enough. Dear Hae, I was wrong in many ways.

"Laughs to self" I guess you would feel fed up of hearing stories that go down this line. I definitely need to talk more feelings and thoughts; self-talk is good for the ambiguous, such as myself.

Next month I will be in Singapore for a week to sit for an entrance exam hosted by NTU. Sit for the dang test, as my dear friend suggested. So I will sit for the dang test. "Shivers" Or perhaps more to test the rougher waters and see if I could swim through.

I recently read a book by fellow Malaysian author Professor Shirley Geok-lin Lim titled "Sister Swing" which tells the story of three sister characters moving to California as grown adults. They sought to find their own place and purpose in a land far from home. Being one out of three sisters myself, the story especially appealed to me :)

It also gave me the courage to believe that adaptation takes time and exposure, out of which I must comply to give up the walls of comfort I have built around me, if I seek to taste zest for the first time on my own terms.

I cannot say much to friends at the moment, for my lacking of knowledge and experience of what they are currently going through. I guess I am feeling the pain and pressure of falling behind even more so.

It has been about four months since the beginning of the year, and also since I've not have any solid commitments to attend to. And I would make sure I were never to have another gap such as this in time to come.

I will write more open thoughts, Hae. This is comforting and fun even to me; not having to express simple thoughts in wishy washy terminology.

Love
CCM

Alter-ego: Gah!!! Not quite the effect I wanted; it still sounds like an old wive's tale. Another goal to achieve: Sound cooler. 

Wandering cities

I have wandered across cities
Cities of which yield imprints of on-street
Motion.
The fast brisk-walks of passer-bys
Come in figures of hundreds of thousands
Basked in a myriad of city striders
All in a sudden-
There is no more I.

At the many times I am offered
A sole opportunity; one sought after by millions
To stand amid people from worldly respected nations
Or be it an old friend
Of whom I am indebted to requite their kind tolerance-

I remain lost for right words.
And utterly overwhelmed
by how little I have in my current disposition
To lightly interest the likes
of hundreds and hundreds of thousands
whom walk the bustling streets of important cities
Their every stride an embodiment
of belonging and purpose.

Diet Coke in a dark Pub.

I looked up to a pair of glistening dark eyes staring back for a brief moment, before its owner reverted focus back to one of my drinking partners for the night. Eyes of which, belonged to a young woman who wore a dress so fitting that it flaunted her small but yet hour-glass shaped figure; that a single skim through of her attire would immediately send suggestive thoughts down the brain tunnels of more-than-just thirsty clients at this very mature adult bar.

But being a young, and by young probably the youngest patron at the bar itself and on top of that-being served by hosts who happened to be my father's old reunion mates ; I merely shrugged at her sudden intrusion to an old men's drunk party. Don't bother questioning how I landed myself there, that topic is besides the point for this story. I want to write about the girl.

Now that I try to recall back, memory of her face masked with a thick layer of foundation and heavy mascara clad eyelashes still could not hinder the suggestion that the young woman seated next to me might have been only a year or two older. Hence making her a "girl" instead. Behind backs of patrons, she whispers to another young woman dressed in an attire notably similar to herself in a foreign language I cannot recognize. My wild guess would be Burmese or Thai.

She holds the hand of my father's old school friend who would later pay for the night's bill and be deemed as the main host of the night. It turned out the friend was a regular drinker. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and shares her whispers with fellow men drinkers within vicinity and all shook hands. She smiles vibrantly at every turn of a stranger's handshake.

As she returned to her seat, she turned to look me in the eyes again and raised her glass, "Wow, isn't she cute?" Turning his head in my direction, the friend jokingly introduced me as his daughter. The young hostess looked shocked.

"You are so old?", she remarked towards the man over her shoulder. By memory, I seem to recall a hint of amusement but also mild disappointment in her voice. Reminiscing back, I now understood why. Her every move initiated fondness of a genuine kind for the middle-aged businessman who is a father of daughters himself.

You see, I've crossed paths with many people. People of whom I would assume to live lives that stray not so different from the wavelengths of my own. By the surface, most things would look the same- we share a pair of functional bright eyes gleaming the essence of youth and thirst for life.

But a flashback recalled an image of a silver Diet Coke can sitting next to my glass of single malt Indian-whiskey. And traces of fizzy gas bubbles illuminating a faint light from bar ceilings from a glass containing a familiar looking drink from childhood memory made me realize-

That the slightest possibility of that very young woman having to cozy up beside middle aged patrons at a mature bar being similar to me in more ways imaginable, is there.

Untitled letter

Dear Hae


I owe you an apology. Despite giving my word, I've not written anything since October.

In fact, thinking back I wasted more time than I've had for a long time.

After my exams drew to a dramatic close on Nov 16th, I was more than happy to shut myself away from prior days of a fixed regime. Post-exam freedom was the breather I needed to return my inborn free-spirited nature back to self. I relished the opportunity with all my might.

Pretty much, I was trying to cover up an embarrassing truth meant to reason for a few months worth of "No news, no sound". My lazy inclinations had gotten the better of me.

I've always understood the importance of writing for one's self from time to time. What I lacked was initiation.

Within the previous time-span of three months, my eyes roamed over two foreign lands and learnt of development; and the importance of being able to adapt to change once more.

I have stories to share. And with the abundance of time I have on my hands during this current passage of time, the stories will come.


Yours
CCM