Fly Buys

This short episode is finally drawing to a close. Two weeks of madness and rediscovery and reconnection. My refuelling is almost complete and I am about ready to take on the next chapter of my life.

Sat with KC the other day and bemused on the thought that we've come a long way. Through laughter and tears... I think that's like the song we used to sing in our hey-days of half growing, half restless youths.

I had one of the best days of my life today. JB was good but better was the company of 6. Not exactly the holiest of numbers, but the rhythm was just perfect. This is the place where you can be a complete nut yourself and say anything without the risk of reputation as the asian of us would say. I don't know where else I can find a bunch of people like that anywhere. Irreplaceable friendship and more than kinship. RL made mention of a two decade run. Where do you go to find those years?

Just last month, I was contemplating on my issue with loneliness. Now this prayer is answered with a whole nostalgia of knowing there were significant connections that are now readily available. I am so blessed. I heard a motivational speaker once say that if you have loyalty, you will prosper. I realised in these past few days of events, that my loyalty has paid off with a certain amount of trade. Those who see it have of late begun to honor the integrity... my naivety at the innocent heart of mankind. People make mistakes, rip off your sleeves, but they change, learn and grow and most often come back to a better place for the reconnection.

This trip has been so abundant and prosperous. Many bridges were rebuilt, many conduits were reconnected and much healing is near it's new stage. I am grateful to look back on my life and realise I have the privilege of living this far to witness the revolution - God's hand at work, patching, redesigning, moulding, touch-up and resurrection of our messed up screwed up stubborness. People can look so beautiful after the ugly deluge. Life is so damn worth living just for these rivers and streams.

I hope you find that vision for your sanity too.

cjt

Ya Kun

Kaya Toast since 1944. Screw the French fries, we've got The Sock!

Brilliant marketing slogan. I must say I'm impressed with the pseudo-museum wall mount that quite aptly delivered the attitude. Nostalgia is in the house. I mean, Polos are in for crying out loud. Gone were the days of Kylie but now she's back and so are we Gen-Xers. I should be so lucky to live to see this day, not that I am a has-been.

So how do i move away from the popular? Or maybe I am one who doesn't? Screw them, I'll get the money on the table, that's what. A boy with a light on his face looking out the window. An image etched in the mind of a man who spoke to me earlier in the week. A man in whom I put my trust. A friend I can trust.

Just the other night, a couple of us in seperate moments bemused on the fact that most of us are the either the end of our chapter and/or beginning another. Ten year blocks are the way to go. Some of us will be writers, filmmakers, grammy winners, pastors, evangelists, teachers of the new world. This is our time, our place to claim. This is our life, our stories yet to commit onto paper.

Wait up, don't go too far into the woods. For love has yet to change the world, yet to change you. It may be overcast for a season, but abundance awaits the one who finishes the fire walk. I must not preach to cloud your mind, so I will stop and believe.

Get well soon, the legacy is beginning.

cjt

Equity

I am hungry and probably verging on anger. This cold sore is keeping it from erupting. Dinner looks set in less than an hour but the depletion of natural resources have left my feelings dry and high. High on a series of incredible jabs.

The initial ecstacy of creaming the label was short lived - the avalanche of things to come - a rude knock from a well with a ominous source and the trickle of water that is not enough to fill the cup of my hands.

All I know now is the attempt to drown out the stories my neighbours are telling in jest to claw his way to some silly girl's heart. Language and their syntax have a way of inteferring with my system.

The smell is inviting, even though this is the last thing I will do to put it into my body. Times like these, other forms of cravings and sin become very very attractive. They take me past this world for the hours I spend indulging. They forget for me the pain that drugs don't do. They are reliable, predictable and full of fascination.

But even sin requires a pricey form of transaction. You give me what I want in exchange for a sacrifice of flesh. One pound, sir? No more, no less.

So, now, dear, my love, my dream chaser, my chariot champion, why this downcast sky and trodden field I now behold. How this promise do you hold to call it truth or do I now curse it as truce? Forgive me, my champ, when you sweep my off my feet, I will try to not sink knee deep in this swamp of a thing you abhor. Keep the pall bearer far, beyond the sunshine and the glow, and prolong life till they see you before they meet you on the other side. Save me from me but save them for my sake, if there was only one shot you could take.

Love me not to set me up. Faith, my illusive eyes escape me now your love light, lower your staff and fight for me my adversities till break of light. Wrap this lie for me, because I fukin need to fish.

cjt

Critical Mass

I'll be at the mission in approximately 30 mins. Pray with me for a short intermission. These folks can get inefficient which would really be a pain. But I've spent enough time at the local clinic to stomach any possibility.

With haste let us go for it is getting dark...

cjt

Space Age

I am having a headache. More like a migraine on the left back swing of my brain. The part where your skull sinks in subtly.

Haven't had a migraine for years and this is getting almost sickeningly familiar.

Woke up amid a myriad of idols, monsters, shrines, star wars, hangers and abandoned lofts. The chew on the bits and bites of deep fried peanut carbs and prawn wraps didn't help. The feeling of clutter is reaching a new peak.

Clutter - millions of junk plastic, porcelain figurines, plastic bags with unopened playthings, a luggage makeshift wardrobe.

Clutter - open door policy, peering eyes like big brother, swinging trapezes, hungry emotional threats and entrapment mines to avoid.

Clutter - the unbreathable fabric, the rude invasion of the cooking class, chinese serial soaps, the TV with a life source and the drone of the invisible radio playing over the estate.

But today took off to a pretty light start. Light breakkie with light pleasant breeze gliding through the two rooms. I think this is like a hangover. The kind of hang from many nights of supper and epic expectations. Perhaps I laughed too hard last night. Perhaps it's just the many many and I really mean many many things that make walking even a chore. Which shouldn't be a shock to have granny fall and hit her head last night.

There was a bump on the head, as I discovered later. The house was unusually quiet and tense when I got through the door. The kitchen lights were lit and movement was a stand still. A snarl came through the bedroom as I passed on by looking in to discover her sitting in a throne like manner with the walking stick held like a staff to her hand.

"She fell, damn it!"

Why damn me? I got quite jolted out of my beat when it came through. Like as if I was guilty. I had no idea but the remark seemed like I oughta know and should be home for the rescue.

I guess leopards and horses never really change their stripes and hide.

The person that's easier to change is me. To change the way I process all this and decide on an appropriate course of reaction. There was no need for any reaction except to be out of sight while the anxious helplessly try to find a way to deal with the mishap. Soon I was in bed, dozing off in front of my book...

cjt

No place safe to rest my head

It just dawned on me the reason why I took off without hesitation when the e-Gate was opened.

Fast pace is just an understatement. I think it's a crowd with jitters and speed. I was just at a friend's place for a small group gathering from various churches. I mean this was cell-group, which I ought to be used to. Intrigued I was probably not. Disturbed was close. More like smacked. The speed in which thought translated to the spoken was probably synoymous. There was no time to put there articulation together and choice cuts into proper phrases. Even now I feel a little shaken, stirred and ripped. It's a form of hijacking.

It's been three days since I found this chance to sit at the corner, literally of the crowded corner, attempting to drown out the maddening shroud that is closing in, with Howie Day stuck to my ears, trying to blog and sit with these thoughts.

It was a good 20 minutes from the station to eventually finding that particular cafe that had free wireless internet access - hot spots are pretty common here. Was expecting a lot of trend ringers around but it seems I am now the only one. So how do I begin? A flood hit the day I arrived and I feel buried under the onslaught of middle class orientalism and oppressing neon robbers. As if it hasn;t been enough, I am subjecting my senses, all of them literally, to the extreme. Think Chilli. Think "turn it up!". Think chockablock full. Think heavy bags. Think straight made crooked. Think dodgers on their way to some petty mission. Think like you can't think because this bloody guy in front has been addressing his audience without stopping to breathe. There is passion, yet where is the harness?

So i lived with all this for 26 years? Part of me wants to leave immediately, yet departing seems to brief at this point.

But objectives haven't been left alone. At least I have tasted one of those coveted orange soup oodles. Complete with the same sea cake accompaniment. Yummers is the word. Even got driven to the threshold. Friends.

Here's digressing. It's like 3.30pm and don't these guys work? I can understand the stinky uniforms but what about these collared midwives? Time here tends to be disjointed for me. On one end it feels like dinner time and my friend hasn't called, I should probably get irritated. But since I just doused some good old eastern fetish, I should let my body recuperate. Yes, rituals of energy renewal. That's why I am here now, blogging away, piece-ing my members together again to hold some weight at a later duel. It's difficult to do so without the suddenly efficient staff gibbering on about some "collection stations" and "change of fortydollarsandsixtyfivecentssir", what was that again? - while slamming on the brakes of some furniture alignment obsession all in one multitasking talent he was employed for. How about a proper smile and look in the eye to begin with? Ok, let up, chuck.

Since arriving I have been honored as a favourite buddy, a pillar, a superstar and FON. Full of nonsense. I kid you not. Feels great to be remembered that way. I mean "buddy" is good but favourite just topped the cream. Kings and priests with a dollop of humanity. It's like your favourite food served on a yellow stained plate, and you won't have it any other way. This is where I came from.

Here's a fact to close it off. I have used my iPod more in a day here than I did in a week. The weather does change a man and his ways.

By the way I think Maria Mena is so under-rated.

cjt

Fodder for Food

He sang these inner voices some years back. Could have been 4, 5 or more than 6. I started these about the same time ago but it seems I have moved a small inch compared to where he is today.

It's the clever wit, the movement that sharpens you. It had and will, I know, coutinue to manouvre him into a jewel. As if he ain't already.

One can admire and wish the jealousy away all at one time. I feel confused and compounded with the short-lived shortcuts. Voices that keep telling you becaue it is good for you. They think it good. What do they know?

Does it have to be this violent all the time. Even at the dining hall, retreating into a state to recharge can prove so much stressful and revealing. I promised myself some moments ago that I won't live like this. So I made a totally difficult decision which could spark a new jump into what they call the abyss.

But I was made to live this abyss ride. I'm just hesitating because I have allowed the voices to be distracting.

cjt

Pain

All I want to do
Is sing and say that I'm used to
These counting silver pieces
And diamonds on my wayside

All I want to do
Is tell my story like you would
These fictional puzzles in my head
Ordinary heroes falling apart

Perhaps I've waited far too long
Perhaps the rain's slipped by
But pain is not an option
When all I ever want
Is within an illusive reach



All I ever knew
Were the flowers dying young
With each passing note we chant
Teach me not this lie

All I ever wished
Were the limits of my mind
For every open sky
Were broken by weary hands

Perhaps if I closed my eyes
Perhaps if I chose to stop
But pain is not my option
When all I always wanted
Is now becoming close



All they ever said
Made sense for itchy ears
Forty times over
Is the same truth disguised

All I ever heard
Moments of passing showers
What good is a good life
When it gets in the way of the great

Perhaps if I made my choices
Perhaps if I nailed this fear
For pain is not for me
Nor a friend to stay in bed



Pain, this is the one thing
That breaks me yet drives me
That sees me on the piano
And not play a single note
Pain is when you walk the stage
And miss your very turn
For the cue was invariably missed
To stain another history book

So here I go again
My humanity on the line
Let them laugh at me
Fools and madmen let us be

They don't understand
The man I see inside
Who are they anyway
To decide who I should fight

Evil is the eye of the storm

My powerbook has been acting up lately. It sometimes freezes at certain points in the startup and only after several reboots will it log into the OS. Dreamweaver has been crashing like nobody's business. Everytime I try to click on the properties panel to change something, it crashes. Even after getting the update from Macromedia does not help. Is it Apple or Macromedia? Or probably it's my powerbook that needs the overhaul. Too many programs installed. Too many of those 'just in case I need it'. Greed it is and I'll admit to that.

Now can't even start up a proper webpage to replace the old sticky 80s version. Money is at stake. Brand under siege. It's been two weeks, isn't our designer meant to get back to us with a draft?

The whole 80% of the downstairs is so flooded I am not kidding you. Evil this rain has it that our carpets mysteriously soak up water from an underground source. You know it didn't come in through the door or window when you can't see trails of it except concentrated pools of water stabs in the seemingly inviting green. Water must have seeped through the cracks in the afterhours of the swinging storm. The sound of running water between the walls last night was probably the process of attack. I hope we're not the only house here to experience something like that.

Wet carpets are depressing. I seem to allow it to depress me. Which is really stupid. But honestly, do you know how difficult it is to get a soaked through wet carpet to dry? It's like staining your pristine white shoes with rust! Yes, that yucky bronze prize! I have no idea what to do except the deep desire to want to sue the body corporate or the builders or whoever! The very least I'd expect is some guy turninng up tomorrow with some vaccum cleaner capaable of sucking this moist thin dry!

Did a third load of laundry just a few moments ago. At least the stain from the wet red rug in my room has been taken care of. That pre-wash soak and colour fast bleach does come in so handy. Having gotten hooked on whites lately in my fashion entourages, it was not very exciting to see my new CR polo pink-alized.

But all is well and good. Apparently my housemates also felt the sting and have informed the real estate agents. All will be well... I expect it!

cjt

Fall

This is the first sign of a change of season. Summer's almost gone with the last glimpse of 37 degrees on Tuesday and a rain drenched Wednesday. It has been raining the whole damn day. The last time I experienced something like this was some years back. Back in the humid land I left.

I still remember looking forward to cloudy skies and foreboding dim weather. It brought a sense of renewal and rest. Particularly because when it rained, business was slow in the coffeeshop where I worked. I didn't care if the rain eroded profits, I just wanted to work as little as possible. That coffeeshop labour has probably contributed to a chronic sense of laziness and procrastination I am suffering from. And this is the kind of blame game I am talking about.

Now, rain is a luxury. A commodity that has the whole new nation under water conservation for a few years. Perhaps this freak weather is the payback of all the years of barren dry spells. Just a few months back, I was singing in my car "I wish it would rain on me now" - a song in the making, that was to express the utter desert experience I was going through. Now this prayer is answered with, no pun intended, torrential blessings.

I can hear the rain trickling down the sides of my wall like flash waterfalls through rain pipes and water holes. Times like these, the real test of a well built house is put to the chisel. Shawn's loft had the first instance of flooding. The tiny gap between the door and the bona-fide balcony was enough for the wind and rain to work some damage to the carpet. Well, damage is probably too harsh. The carpet around the door was soaked through. So was the area outside my room. I can't explain why, because the wet area wasn't near any door, window or opening exposed to the pelting rain. It's pretty obvious to me that there's probably some foundation cheap job that's given a pee hole of access for all that water to fill our dry carpets.

The smell will be a thing to behold in the morning - that is, when it starts drying. With humidity at 91% and rain persisting for yet another two days (yes it has been for 24 hours and counting), it will be a while before the stench starts taking over.

Rain periods are perfect for snoozing comfortably in a snug bed. Sleep has been a challenge for some time now. My head seems to find it difficult to sit in the sweet spot. I often wake with a stiff neck and an aching back. Can't wait for the futon to come back to me - that is, when EG moves out in lieu of the wedding promise to fulfil. But once I get to slumberland, which is a workout in itself, it takes me past waking hours to get up. This is a habit that has slipped comfortably between my sheets and my pillow. Don't quite like it, probably because it is not part of the status quo of all others, even in this household. Work on the weekends usually take me past bedtime, which is probably the excuse I give in to these jet lags. Or just lags, thank you very much.

It's 4.00am and I should better get to bed. All this sound of running water all around my room is unnerving. Let it be nothing but lull to a peaceful rest energizing me for the big week ahead.

cjt