Saturday, December 23, 2006

Climax Number 39

If all the posing and flirting and squealing and naked parties and orgies are getting to you this 2006 Christmas, head over for some jamming sessions with the new Bodyjam Release 39! It's just wicked.

Warm up:


Bollyjam #1:

Bollyjam #2:

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Those Words Unspoken

Those words unspoken, reflected in their full glory on the full length mirror of the studio during an over-crowded Bodyjam class, more vivid than the over-zealous screams of the instructor. I turned back and caught sight of your intense glance before the recovery track, why do you look sad.

"You enjoying your first Bodyjam class?"

Those words unspoken, like misty breath that expired in the warmth of the refreshing showers just as soon as they were exhaled. We pressed our right palms on our own sides of the frosted glass partition, and savoured the quiet passion of stolen pleasures as we imagined the partition out of existence.

"The water is getting cold."

Those words unspoken, just a painful longing to break through a dry throat that quickly dispersed into the breezy post-dinner night air. I stared ahead and watched as our briefly crossing paths of life start to untangle and went on separate ways again. My hands bent involuntarily in your direction as we neared our goodbyes, but they would never have the courage to meet yours, not in the company of your rightful owner.

"Till we meet again?"
Hearts are often broken
When there are words unspoken
In your soul there's answers to your prayers

Whitney Houston - Waiting to Exhale

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Tales from Taipei: A Trail of Cigarette Smoke

A trail of dreamy cigarette smoke lifted gently from the depth of the suffocating darkness tucked in a quiet corner of the corridor, then lingered hesitantly around the muted lamp hanging off the ceiling, before finally dissipating into the still cold air of the darkroom maze.

"Maybe the next one."

He awoke with a piercing pain on his right index finger. The expiring cigarette was biting into his crumbled fingers with its last breath, before its ashes finally collapsed and scattered carelessly onto the floor. For the longest time, he stared blankly into the spiralling void in front of him, and forgot momentarilly what sense were all these making. The sofa beneath him suddenly became unbeareably uncomfortable for his feeble limbs, and he shifted his weight and plunged once again into its sunken cushions.

"You have witnessed the passing of my youth."

Further down the corridor, a door creaked open slightly, just wide enough to allow someone to slide out. He took a deep breath and welcomed the distinct stale smell coming from the room, from which nestled pleasant memories he would helplessly bring again and again into focus. It was these episodes that had made life so vividly real for him, yet they would only now remind him, with every fresh recollection, of the strikingly painful contrast they had with his pathetic existence now.

"I remember someone."

He was lost even within this familiar surrounding of which he had frequented since as long as he could remember. A sudden coldness enveloped him, and he struggled to lift his arms upwards closer to the lamp, throwing shadows of himself onto the blackened partition walls. And then he remembered the discoloured splotches on his arms that he had tried so hard to conceal, and sank low back into the sofa again.

"What time is it now?"

Into the long night of darkness he sat, waiting, patiently, tirelessly, for the last climax of his life, until the night arrived, when all the grieving voices within him sighed unanimously for the last time and fell silent.

Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper.
- Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden

Monday, December 04, 2006

Tales from Taipei: The Hotspring

A quiet breeze swept down from the late October night sky, gently climbed the cascading flow of steaming hot spring water making way into the big pool, before caressing the Hokkien-speaking uncle in deep thought by the pool, and then it twirled playfully past another one who’s just stripped and walked in, and finally settled down on my lap.

“Shall we?”

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Tales from Taipei: A Pussy Story

Pussy was confused.

Right from under the piles of unrewarding rubbish that she was rummaging through, she was certain she had heard the call for her, and had immediately crossed the road to the rows of dining tables arranged along the walkway of the busy Xi Men Ding shopping district, and in the midst of her enthusiasm, nearly got run over by a flashy beamer on the way to hell.

But now, while she looked up intently to the source of the call just a few seconds ago, she was merely staring into rejection and disappointment. Her growling stomach signaled her to meow for attention and assurance that she had not heard wrong, yet only the faintest squeal broke through, drowned now in a fresh burst of laughter triggered by perhaps a joke told, not just by anyone, but by the one diner who had fished her out from the rubbish dump.

Before her extended presence attracted spurts of water or shoos from the rest of the crowd, she would need to leave the table and head back across the road again.

But she kept her ears propped up helplessly, for she would ran across again as soon she was called.

Never mind the rejection.

Friday, November 03, 2006



A thundering supersonic boom, started off as the most innocent rumble, rose into a tidal wave of epic proportions, and came rushing towards me. Traveling at the blinding speed of light, it started about 20 feet away, right from the entrance to the men changing room, rapidly picking up magnitude and force, past the sporty tai-tai browsing a pathetically aging collection of VCD titles at the lounge, and a group of giggly Bodyjammers waiting at the glass door to the studio, before finally hitting me.

I thought I went into an immediate cardiac arrest.

Fighting to contain the rapid spread of immobilization of my limbs due to the abrupt interruption of oxygen-rich blood flow, I maintained my composure and started turning my head sideways, left and then right, then left again, in a faithful and hopefully convincing act of searching for that illusive lady who seemed to have ignited such passion and excitement in the Bodyjam instructor this evening.

Unfortunately I had not seen the last of the paralyzing display of public shame. I might as well have been paraded around wrapped in a rainbow flag. (But then most Malaysians are too ignorant to know what that signifies anyway.)

“Come on, Lolita! Jam it up, Lolita!”

I would need to twist my limbs out of their sockets to jam any harder, that is if the staff had not come to escort me out on suspicion of designer drug abuse, yet the encouragement was incessant, strikingly crystal clear against the dizzying beat of the cardio through recovery tracks.

It must be the sleeveless tee I wore today.

“I noticed you normally don’t shower one. How to cruise you like that?!”

The aftershock resonated against the walls of crowded changing room, bouncing off the wooden lockers and reaching the furthest and most remote corners of the steam room, the toilet cubicles and the shower stalls. And I was promptly administered a pinch on the left arm.

Then there was a suffocating dead silence, and I saw an uncle dropped his fresh underwear.

“Oh! Have you met Michael, er I mean Michelle already? By the way, where is your sister ah? Still jerking off in the showers ah?”

The uncle seemed to be having some trouble putting on his underwear.

“Ah! You please remember to come for my pre-Christmas class ok! The theme is going to be RED and WHITE! I promised the gals already! What? Wear this ah? Can la! Just wear the top with white underwear.”

I picked up my phone and pretended to make a call, while rapidly strategizing an escape plan.

“Boyfriend calling is it? What? Mum waiting for you for dinner ah? Ok lah, see you next week ok!”

The uncle finally managed to pull his underwear all the way up after executing a few balancing hops with one leg in the air.

I pretended to be shy while passing by him.

He’s kinda cute, I hope he’s gay too.

* All names have been changed to protect the sisterhood's integrity.
* 'Pecah': A Malay word that means 'Broken'. Used widely among the gay community to refer to the disclosure of one's homosexual tendendies, intentionally or otherwise.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Kakiku: A Map of Indulgence (Updated)

(Click on image for larger view)

Okay, maybe this time the experts can go figure out yourselves what's new with Kakiku. Compare this with the previous update and have a little spot-the-difference game ya!

Tuesday, October 24, 2006






Funky 同志吧那夜被挤到了舞池边的巨型波音机旁弯着腰观看了一场还算精彩的签唱会,然后疯狂地随着强劲的中文音乐起舞。原来徐若瑄真的会唱歌。



Wednesday, October 11, 2006

The Uncle With Asamboi-Seed-Crushing Chest

I was having trouble conceiving a good reason why your eyes had lingered a little too long over me, or rather around the vicinity of my upper body. In a frenzied rush of post-Bodyjam cleaning and changing, I could find an endless array of tasty spots where I would lay my eyes on in this space choked with sweaty bodies in various stages of undress, but of course, I kept them focused on Sindy, who was just explaining frantically why he absolutely needed one full hour to clean up after unceremoniously abandoning me in the middle of the first recovery track.

You reached for your Adidas tee, but didn’t look like you would put it on anytime soon. (Gosh, that chest could crush an asamboi seed.) Sindy was finally done and left, while I simultaneously wrapped myself in a towel, did a quick check to see if I had anything weird stuck to my chest or abs, and bit my lips as a gentle reminder that this is definitely no Kakiku or Mandi-Manda and overdue glances are not to be mistaken as invitations for sex.

Not that the showers or the steam sauna are safe enough for this anyway.

I think I need a much more sensitive radar to sort out the queer folks here, I thought, as I slipped into an empty cubicle, hung my towel, and turn on the showers.

With the curtains drawn, of course!

Monday, October 09, 2006

Kakiku: A Map of Indulgence (Updated)

(Click on image for larger view)

Keeping the momentum going, Kakiku recently unleashed its final piece of previously unexplored real estate with the introduction of a freshly renovated foam shower area. This built-for-purpose action zone is tiled on the walls all the way to the ceiling, promising fuss-free fun for the fans of slimy, foamy action and even easier maintenance for the staff.

While this dedicated foam party area seems appropriate, extra revenue from a wildly loyal fan base was also invested in the oddly conceived idea for an adjoining washroom-like area built with a set of urinals and sinks.

No more reasons to pee while getting your assets savoured during the foam party, perhaps? How thoughtful.

Friday, September 29, 2006

Jam It, Baby!

“Oh my! Do we only have just one guy in the class today?” The Bodyjam instructor drew a fleeting glance at me and move on to scan the rest of the turnout, dressed, this Friday evening, in an assortment of dance pants and tracksuits, tank tops and vests, and eager for some action.

And then I guess he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror, and promptly corrected himself with a giggle, “Oh! I meant, just two.”

But the music was already starting to play, and soon we were so collectively drowned in the adrenaline rush of the super posy smooth moves of the latin track that genders and sexual preferences were as irrelevant as a pillow on the dance floor.

This is absolutely more heavenly than group sex in the dark room!

Monday, September 04, 2006












“啊!啊!!” 任淫淫不甘失弱,有样学样地开始叫了起来。加工后的叫声夸张得让人毛骨悚然。





Thursday, August 31, 2006

我爱Kakiku!/ I Love Kakiku! (As translated by

Oriental leader of the tiny towels under half of the pack, the curtain opened a lounge, blatantly kneel in the Koushou cousins walked in.

"Qi is so only it was gold ... hey? "She makes lateral, a man suddenly to be drawn down like a spine angle of the double beds while a single, immobile.

I can not help with big applause as a good thing, "the head of the crowd, but we have to be a leader who eat pretty jaded! "

"I know you are full of warmth between the three dishes, but you also receive! Just another bubble in the crowded party, was also shouting so loud that Menggan cows! Xiusi people really! "Yin Yin in the office next to the sour tone of jealousy and concern added a few more.

"This bad things, confident in front of me there! I finally saw the Acura lost playing time, he was a little sprite hit your foul whole, I have a bad good, "Jim sprung up from bed sheets, as Yin Yin Dazhanshenwei toward other people resorted to the embroidery needle Lane," I will let you smoke! See strokes! "

The last of the group a fright as Yin Yin delicate pale, and forced rather than shying away, but finally hid behind the A-di slim body, and they dared not come out.

"To Five other men injured sisters foul weather!" Lixia and tinkling in the side and said, "Jim and laying minute turn in the corridor do not have readily dozen months. "

"Do not steal anything just like it in a dark room under the two types of pigs!" I can containing added.

"You sense that the better! From the corridor went all out to everyone in the two read an excerpt called "sixty nine" with the Super Routuan, really like the acquisition of other people's money, which was commissioned to do a circus show touting? "Tinkling Mohaoqi forward to complain.

"It reminds me of the bar scene even dinner can be saved," Lixia cover the mouth said with a smile.

Good evening! Welcome to Kakiku. The Special Function starting now . Please enjoy yourself. The Special Function has starting . Yourself. Please enjoy.

Cordial voice broadcasting system to provide employers with warm every corner of the three-sided. Although a lot of words, to understand enough.

Tiaoliaoqilai founder of the first East, a loose mini is a treasure towels on the grounds to flush away to the entrance to the lounge. I can containing, as A-di Yin Yin and the feeling seems to have heard similar mission, Zayan disappear, only heard the sound of the corridor not far from playing sound, "unpopular sisters, it is time to start! "

Sunday, August 27, 2006










“你还好意识说!站在走廊拼命地逢人就叫了进去看那两只在"sixty nine"着的超级肉团,好像真的是收了人家的钱,被委托做了那马戏团表演的拉客?” 玲玲没好气地怨着。

“想起那一幕连晚餐也可省下了吧,” 丽霞盖住了嘴巴笑着说。

《Good evening! Welcome to Kakiku. The Special Function starting now. Please enjoy yourself. The Special Function has starting. Please enjoy yourself.》



Saturday, August 19, 2006

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

The Martial Arts Teacher

The martial arts teacher turned back to give the figure coiled up in the bench in a dark corner of the walkway a second look and was soon sitted next to it. Huddled together in the tight space forgotten amidst the chaos of a busy pre-skin night crowd on a Sunday evening, his perfume quickly worked its way into the system, and in a deep, tacit way in which feelings fused and became stronger than thoughts, generated an overpowering sense of devotion and serenity that was so unlike the wild session moments ago.

A man of few words, the martial arts teacher preferred to share self-defense tips than offer a glimpse into the dark underworlds of his emotion-scape. Yet the simulated twists of arms and interlocking limbs afforded a much celebrated reprise of the physical proximity almost too overwhelming to relate.

“Grab hold of his hand, and twist his arm to break the punch, like this.”

What about the heart? Averting the onslaught of a tireless need for reassurance seems to require much more energy than breaking the most forceful punch. Your playful hand landed on my chest, I looked down and struggled to make out a blue-black spot in the dim light.

“Go home early, this is not the place for you.”

Give me a good enough reason to stay away, Mr Martial Arts Teacher, and I promise I’ll never return.


Thursday, August 10, 2006

The BravingKL Sauna Scoresheet

Click on images for larger view

Monday, July 31, 2006

Kakiku: A Map of Indulgence (Updated)

(Click on image for larger view)

A relatively small update in this sixth revision of the Kakiku floor plan, with the addition of a new TV room near the private rooms area, and an increase in the number of lockers in view of increasing turnout especially on weekends.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Mr Philosophy And His Feet

Your anxious toes lingered around the leg of the grand mahogany dining table, like the graceful, calculated steps of a preying tarantula, and then reached out and with one sudden, powerful pounce, held on to mine in a tight knot.

Well below the cacophony of clanking cutleries and wine glasses and excited conversations, I fought your relentless need to reiterate the lurid passion of our first session. Your mischievous glances fell like broken arrows before reaching their target, yet between staring down at my food and up at the glittering chandelier that hung low above us, I thought I had caught sight of that perfect crescent of your lips yet again.

Entangled in a lurid passion of interlocking toes, I acted against every instinct of my nature, and suffered pangs after pangs of guilt as you continued your impish assaults on my leg with increasing fervor and courage.

Right below the eyes of your partner.

So it seems the assurance of the perfect open relationship (interpreted as ‘business partners’ in your explanation) justified this rampant display of disregard of him. A muted nod of approval from him would open up a floodgate of unhinged, uncontrollable expression of admiration for everyone else except him, and unleashed now, a torrent of irreversible damage, that seemed so much less perfect than the love story that he has treasured throughout the twenty over years.

Humming along his favourite Thai music piping in from the living room, he busied himself with serving food and entertaining four other guests. I watched, from across the dining table, his rather listless expressions and muted responses which laid in contrast with the colourful and tasteful deco of the warm dwelling. His eyes told of a distant loneliness void of happiness and contentment, was he echoing the same rich emotions as the singer?

I caught your longing eyes when bidding goodbye. He avoided mine.

● ● ●

He opened the door and invited me in. Immediately, the sight of the gleaming mahogany table with the glittery chandelier hanging low above it flooded my eyes for the next few minutes. That evening when I met him, it was exactly one year back before I met you.

“Nice place!” I fingered the mini crucifixes hanging down from the chandelier. “Your partner’s not in?”


Monday, June 19, 2006

Counting Cocks

Have you ever paid ridiculous sums of money just to be associated with numbers commonly regarded as auspicious for the Chinese? Of course, I would understand that you won’t feel secured driving around in a car with a license plat that reads ‘9413’ (literally: nine times die, one time survive), or feel blessed living in a house numbered ‘1458’ (literally: whole lifetime no prosper).

That still doesn’t mean we have to jostle with the rest of the entire straight world of oily-faced businessmen and diamond-ring adorning tai tai’s for that dream number.

No, we don’t. We simply need to redefine the word auspicious.

So here, is the list of BravingKL-approved gay-auspicious numbers for your consideration when the next car, house, hotel room or sauna visit (for the locker number) come around:

7373 (pronounced: chart sung chart sung, literally: cock thrive cock thrive)
You cannot go wrong with a thriving, throbbing cock that stands in undivided attention to the call of its master, ever ready and hungry for action.

7878 (pronounced: chart fart chart fart, literally: cock prosper cock prosper)
A prosperous cock is one that is in-demand, well-maintained and well-served. What more could you ask for?

9797 (pronounced: gau chart gau chart, literally: play cock play cock)
Yes, you’re gay and that’s what you should enjoy doing. No guarantee on the condition of the cocks, or of their respective owners though.

1197 (pronounced: yard yard gau chart, literally: day day play cock)
A cock a day keeps the PMS away.

1497 (pronounced: yard sai gau chart, literally: whole lifetime play cock)
A lifetime supply of cocks for your constant enjoyment. Now let’s hope it’s not just referring to playing your own cock.

4497 (pronounced: sai sai gau chart, literally: every lifetime play cock)
For firm believers in the concept of reincarnation, you would want to opt for this far more ambitious alternative. Technically, however, the statement still hold true even if you reborn as a straight girl.

1978 (pronounced: yard gau chart fart, literally: once play cock prosper)
It’s time to break the closet door! Come get your first taste of cock and you are on your way to earning big bucks.

Evil, evil numbers to avoid at ALL COST:

9714 (pronounced: gau chart sart sei, literally: play cock definitely die)
Go ahead and book this if you’re gay curious but decide to stay a virgin for the rest of your life.

1157 (pronounced: yard yard mm chart, literally: everyday no cock)
The curse many of us would rather die than to bear with. It’s various iterations like 57 and 75 are also a no-no.

1457 (pronounced: yard sei mm chart, literally: whole lifetime no cock)
The gay man’s ultimate curse, to be avoided at all cost.

And now, can you think of anymore to add to this list?

Wednesday, June 07, 2006


Mataku kaku, dibiarkan lemas dalam lautan gambaran yang kini bagaikan anganan yang kian terluntur warnanya, detik demi detik, hingga yang tinggal cuma imbasan memori bersebaran dari episod lalu. Namun sejauh pandangan, mataku terus berjuang, menunggu sekelip sinaran harapan.

Tanganku kaku, dibiarkan berulang-alikan di tengah-tengah udara dalam kemalapan cahaya lilin, bagaikan dedaun kering yang kehilangan arah. Belasan tubuh berganti timbul dan hilang, tak satu yang mampu mencecah sentuhan kulitku. Namun selagi terasa kelembapan udara, tanganku terus berjuang, menunggu segenggam jejari yang tulus.

Kakiku kaku, dibiarkan berayauan di celah-celah tarian bebayang, di sudut-sudut terpencil, dari lorong sempit ke bilik gelap penuh aksi. Kepenatan terasa terlampau. Namun selagi terasa kedinginan lantai, kakiku terus berkeliaran mengejar destinasi yang maya, menunggu sesudut halangan manis yang dijanjikan.

Hatiku kaku, dibiarkan bogel dikelilingi harapan and janji kosong yang tajam, bersebaran dari setiap sudut and penjuru. Kepahitan datang membawa pilu, mencemari keghairahan yang hanya bersinggah singkat di setiap ruang sempit ini. Namun selagi terasa aliran emosi, jantungku terus berdengup menunggu seiris cerita dongeng yang kekal abadi.

Kaku. Dibiarkan kaku.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

The Fisherman Story

Miss Mei Li’s expression was to die for. Contorted in a wicked blend of confusion, disbelief and concern, she clipped my workbook with just two fingers, lifted it slightly from her desk and then dropped it with a purposeful flick to send it sliding against the glass surface and finally coming to rest near the far edge of her table.

Rearranging her facial features in preparation for speech, she finally asked: “Why do you write this kind of story?”

The pressing inquisition was delivered with a tinge of anger and disgust in her voice, my fault it seemed, for having dragged her into the little twisted world of this eleven-year-old, of which after having a taste of, she could not possibly have gotten past her conscience to just ignore.

I could not recall what I said. Standing in front of the class braving the collective attention of forty pairs of eyes eager for some action on a boring extended afternoon session, my little mind could not comprehend this horrid consequence that seemed to have stemmed from a short composition submitted just the day before. What seemed more vivid while I continued to hang my head low during that awful fifteen minutes was a little spot of mud on my semi-retiring off-white shoes which I had missed concealing with white chalk that was stolen from the black board during recess.

Miss Mei Li quickly got bored of this fruitless inquest, the victim seemed redrawn in his own world, still, and could be brewing yet another shocker that may further taint the impressive record of this perfectly disciplined, well-mannered and well-dressed class of hers.

Perfect, except for this weird one whose shoes quickly became an eyesore the first day she caught sight of them since she took over from that no-good Mrs Tan.

And so I was dismissed to return to my seat. My workbook was never to be seen again. Perhaps she had set it on fire, forever banishing it from her memories in a self-denying bid to nurse her aching conscience, and I never quite write that kind of story anymore.

… In the evening, the fisherman pulled his boat to shore. He only caught three fishes today. He was sad. He took the three fishes back home. He found a rope at home. He didn’t find his wife. So, he left the three fishes on the table for his wife. After that, he used the robe and put it around his neck, and he hanged himself.

Monday, May 29, 2006

Kakiku: A Map of Indulgence (Updated)

(click on image for larger view)

In the fifth revision of the Kakiku floor plan, this friendly and unpretentious sauna has yet again upheld its pleasantly adaptive and progressive approach with the introduction of a misty jungle room, and a rearrangement of the locker area in a bid to improve its floor area usage, which sadly, continues to be its biggest shortcoming.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Just Another Caller

Anonymous Caller: Hi.

Braving: *notes unfamiliar mobile number* Hi?

Anonymous Caller: Erm.. May I know who’s on the line?

Braving: You’re calling my number and you don’t know who’s on the line?

Anonymous Caller: Oh, actually I was looking through my phone book and noticed that I used to call your number quite often. So I was wondering ...

Braving: Whoever I am, obviously the answer is not important anymore right now.

Anonymous Caller: Yeah, but... *starts mumbling*

Braving: Ok. Bye!

Don't waste time chasing lost memories, goodbye episodes don't happen for no reason.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Two Monologues & A Conversation

Braving: Oh gosh! *drags luggage into room, throws open lid in one deafening thud & starts pulling dirty laundry out* It’s so nice to be back! But I forgot how hot KL is! You know it never get anywhere above 15 degrees in San Fran, even when it was all bright and sunny outside and I had to remember my sunscreen before leaving the hotel room.

Roy: *collapses on top of dirty laundry on the floor and starts wriggling about* I can’t shake this hottie from work off my mind. *stares dreamily at phone* Oh gosh he’s got such strong arms. Here, look at this SMS that I sent him the other day. *shoves phone into face of Braving* I know he’s married and all, but do you think he would by any chance guessed that I have feelings for him? I’m so worried that I would freak him out.

Braving: *ignores phone in face and frowns while flipping through photos on camera in blinding speed* I thought four days were enough time to cover all the attractions, yet with all the excellent planning and organizing far ahead of the trip, I don’t understand why I could only squeeze 30 minutes to explore the gay district. However, seeing hunky uncles holding hands whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ears, lesbian couples locking lips bidding farewell, and gay sisters buying flowers from the street vendors are absolutely fabugalistic!

Roy: *buries face in phone* I didn’t get to see him today. He’s on leave. *digs into Braving's luggage* Erm, so you got some extra chocolates here, do you mind if I give one pack to him?

Braving: *caught sight of a brochure in the wastepaper basket* Oh are we having Japanese tonight? Reminds me of that last meal I had in Houston, with the Asian guy I told you about. It’s painful finding someone I like so much who is half the world away from me. I wonder what he’s doing right now. *stares dreamily at ceiling*

Roy: The other day I caught sight of his cock while we were peeing next to each other. *cups hand to hold imaginery thick rod* It was all hairy and black, but I could die for the chance to blow him right there and then. He just keeps adjusting it like all the time! I bet it grows REALLY big when it’s hard.

Braving: Gosh, you know I spent 8 bucks for a little cup of seafood cocktail at the pier but absolutely enjoyed it while shivering myself silly in the late evening chilly breeze looking at hungry seagulls that didn’t seem to be afraid at us tourists at all. *shows blurry photos of seagulls in the midst of a foodfight*

Roy: *puts cupped hands with imaginery thick rod really close to face and peers through fingers* His wife must be the luckiest gal alive! He was asking me the other day if condoms come in extra large sizes, I told him how to look for them, but then he said he’s not using any lately coz they’re trying to have their first child.

Braving: I’m missing San Fran already. *spreads visitors brochures all over the bed and spills them onto the floor together with the dirty laundry, chocolates, shoes, electronic gadgets & toiletries* I wanna go find a job and live there for a few years.

Roy: *throws phone down after catching sight of the clock* Hey! Are we going to the sauna today?

Braving: *shoves visitors brochures, camera, dirty laundry, chocolates, shoes, electronic gadgets & toiletries back into the luggage and shuts lid in one deafening thud* Oh! Oh! Who’s driving?

Friday, May 12, 2006

When The Son Goes Down

When the Son goes down, the first snippet of hair had long fallen, and so, the solitary moments of choking boredom in the room, defined by frozen pizzas, senseless chatroom conversations and TV programs, ended its torturous course. Houston days suddenly became much more bearable with the promise of passionate reunions, enlightening conversations and interactive meals.

When the Son goes down, this two-month-long journey has already exhausted its wonders, and so, the tireless heart makes one last attempt to register the various blissful sensations that have tickled its senses, from 6pm stubbles rubbed against the eager neck, from the welcoming body wrapped around longing arms, from playful fingers combing soft black hair and from longing lips roaming the reassuring curves of the shoulders.

When the Son goes down, all that was left behind was a solitary figure standing on the pavement on a breezy Tuesday night. Let the warmth of the last hug dissipate into the wind, allow for the final kiss to surrender its moisture into the air, banish the painful last moments of farewell and the sight of a departing car into the most remote corner of the memory, lock away pangs of guilt of meticulously stolen pleasures, but forever cherish the misty memories.

Memories that were Houston skies on these 2006 summer nights.


Sunday, May 07, 2006

Houston Highlights

Sweaty butt cracks
Busy trolley along overstocked racks

Thursday, April 27, 2006

The BravingKL Relationship Grid

Confused by the mixed signals? Frusfrated with broken promises? Retreating from hot pursuits? Bogged down by unwelcomed commitments? Try out the BravingKL Relationship Grid to sort out your feelings and find your bearings.

First, go through the following four sets of statement. For each set, select the appropriate letter to describe your relationship.

SET 1: Physical Attraction
* Select H for High physical attraction
* Select L for Low physical attraction

SET 2: Emotional Attraction
* Select H for High emotional attraction
* Select L for Low emotional attraction

SET 3: Commitment
* Select C for Committing
* Select N for Non-commiting

SET 4: Arrangement
* Select M for Monogamous

* Select P for Polygamous

Now, fill in the boxes below with the letters that you have selected above. The four letters will now combine to form your Relationship Type.

Next, locate your Relationship Type from the BravingKL Relationship Grid below:

Couldn't make sense of it still? Well, apparently I'm struggling with a few of them as well. Suggestions will be warmly welcomed, otherwise try the analysis below, and let me know what you think:

Type HHCM: The Newly Weds
A physically and emotionally charged couple tied in a highly committing, monogamous relationship for what seemed like eternal bliss. This is the perfect arrangement made in heaven, the epitome of human dynamics fit for romance novels and childhood fantasies, which unfortunately is out of reach for most mortals. Cherish every passing moment but do accept the eventual shift to a more stable type LHCM.

Type HHCP: The Occasional Wanderer
A variation of type HHCM, except that it is not as strictly monogamous as one would idealizes. Embrace the virtues of occasional ignorance of the mostly secretive wandering of the heart and imagine you did not notice the strand of foreign hair, or the unfamiliar perfume scent on his undies, for you can rest assure that you still occupy a large chunk of the real estate in his heart, and claim the most airtime for his attention and love.

Type HHNM: The Insecure Prince
In a highly physical and emotional relationship, the combination of low commitment and monogamy makes as much sense as guys who visit gay saunas just to surf the web (unless they are undercover Utusan reporters, of course). Perhaps the only thing stopping you from upgrading this relationship to a type HHCM is a burning worry of an overly insecure heart bearing wounds still fresh from a recent failed episode, or the struggle to deny your emotions in the interest of various family obligations. You have clearly found your prince, yet giving your commitment is an ocean apart to happiness. Are you willing to part the Red Sea?

Type HHNP: The Fleeting Butterfly
The world is a sea of sweet-scented flowers in full bloom for the fleeting butterfly. You easily engaged in both physically and emotionally empowering relationships, yet your commitment and loyalty is a mountain of unattainable and frustrating feats no human soul will claim success to. You, the heart-breaker, the tear-jerker, the soul-destroyer, enjoy your moments while your skin still spell youthfulness and your cock still smell fresh, for it may soon be time when you wither as all the flowers that you have fed on will wither the same.

Type HLCM: The Short-Term Couple
Commitment and monogamy is perfect, but they do not hold well under the thin string of a purely physical-attraction centric relationship. The unbelievably perfect proportions of his chest, waist and cock conjure an empowering, yet often short-lived sensation of love, but no true love is achieved without a courageous venture into the unfamiliar grounds of his heart. Face it, Sister, you adore his body, but cringe to touch his heart. But it’s good as long as it lasts, so enjoy the trip.

Type HLNP: The Perfect Sex Buddy
Give yourself a pat on the back, for you have succeeded in locating the perfect buddy for a purely sexual, hassle-free, no strings attached relationship. A highly physical yet low emotional and non-committing arrangement forbids the development of complications like jealousy, hatred and revenge. Just remember to vary your sleeping partner often enough so you won’t end up just sticking to one, in case you start to develop the dreaded emotions for him.

Type LHCM: The Long-Term Partners
These are the record-breakers of the gay world, the fit-for-exhibit rare gems that have emerged stronger and more dignified from years of painstaking endurance and stubborn fortitude. While many would trace back their roots to the explosive HHCM, the physical chemistry is now mostly exhausted, and in turn replaced with deep emotional bonds from years of trials and tribulations that have seen the licks of seduction, fire of lies, and onslaught of betrayals. So now as you tug away your hormone pills, walking sticks and account books for the night, give each other the tightest hugs your body would allow, and say “Happy Anniversary dearie, I just know that the hunky Latino will not last as long.”

Type LHCP: The Open Relationship Model
While their more conservative LHCM counterparts enjoy private moments of evening walks, furniture browsing and groceries shopping together, the ever-playful LHCP couples are storming the gay scene holding signs that flaunt ‘Attached but Available’ to anyone and everyone that catches their fancy. Brushing aside apparent risks of having their relationship destroyed, LHCP couples are quick to point out the strong emotional bonds and commitments between them. But do beware of the more sinister variation – the self-denying, self-justifying, compulsively-lying pseudo-LHCPs who hide under the cloak of type LHCM and are either too afraid to face their emotions or the spanking of their ignorant partners.

Type LLCM: The Odd Couple
The LLCM couples completely baffle us. While this odd arrangement bears no semblance of physical or emotional bonds, the evident commitment and monogamy is simply out of place. Many reasons could be theorized, be it financial, the lack of options or the lack of confidence and exposure to the gay world, but if this is all but a legacy of an ancient relationship turned stale, perhaps it is really time to let go now.

Type LLCP: The Expired Couple
Held on merely by a thin string of commitment between them, the LLCP couple has long past their expiry date. Self-denial will only serve to extend the pain and frustration plus intensify the inconvenience and hatred when both the physical and emotional chemistry have fizzled away. From among your other more worthy cock/hole worshippers, just pick one to announce your vow of commitments to if you so have to, and may you kiss saunas and chatrooms goodbye.

Type LLNM: The Sisters
In the eccentric, ever-exciting relationship-scape of the gay world, the LLNM couple certainly does not fail in dropping jaws as well as other foreign attached objects like dildos and butt plugs when the unbelievably true news of their relationship was made known. As far as the dynamics of physical and emotional chemistry is concerned, this couple’s experience is no different from the heart-warming tale of giggly, hands-holding gay sisters in action. Monogamy, in this case, most probably refers to the intense obsession of mutually shared properties like skincare secrets, fashion insights and hypermarket discount coupons. Lesbians, you are not! Go find a real man.

Type LLNP: The Pretenders

No emotions, no sex, no commitment, no class! This pseudo relationship should only exist in theory and is only included here for the sake of completeness. However, during occasions of Grammy-deserving drama queen in major action, they may still fool a few uninitiated newbies.

OK, you guys are just WEIRD.

So what BravingKL Relationship Type are you?

Sunday, April 23, 2006

15 Short Stories From Houston

1. My colleagues and I were confused tricked into going to Houston Downtown on a Sunday morning to discover the wonders of witnessing businesses in a period of synchronized inactivity (except for a pathetic little doughnut shop that closes at 12noon) AND the joys of establishing suicidal acquaintances with homeless beings bearing various unidentifiable bags of belongings in frantic search of loose change and the last few sips of alcoholic beverages from disposed cans in rubbish bins AND the pleasures of sharing stories of life-changing moments while seated in a circle in the middle of the road and marveling at street scenes that are COMPLETELY devoid of any sort of touristy events.

2. I bought an egg from the Contemporary Arts Museum that, when partially cracked on its top and watered, will grow from within its content, a selection of plants that could survive up to a period of five months.

3. I was booted from a cab once as a result of an extensive yet futile search for the Natural Science Museum, which is supposed to be one of the eight tourist attractions in Houston. Once again, the 30922 restaurants and their accompanying free car parks in town are NOT to be mistakenly regarded as tourist attractions.

4. My teammate and I, on numerous occasions soon after we arrived, exchanged a few rounds of contentious speech acts (aka Arguments), leading to a temporary working relationship and communication meltdown that lasted for 2 weeks (aka Except for some unintelligible grunts and sighs, there were absolutely NO verbal exchanges despite us sharing cubicles, meetings, meals, walking tours and the occasional cab rides together).

5. One evening, I embarked on a frenzied Instant Noodle cooking marathon in my room as a result of inconsistent value propositions on food packaging versus customer’s experience and failed microwave-related experiments. Casualties, which were reported within ten minutes of each other, involved five packs of instant noodles from assorted regions and flavours, seven teriyaki meatballs and two spicy chicken wings. Post-traumatic symptoms included an extensive period of appetite loss and MSG-packed breath that lasted for three days.

6. That trusty microwave, in yet another faithful evening, bore witness to one more experiment, this time due to a sudden crave for chocolate-dipped strawberries. Casualties this round involved one bottle of Hershey’s syrup (promptly discarded after the discovery of better alternatives), one bar of Hershey’s chocolate (burnt and discarded due to a mixture of inexperience in handling microwave settings and over enthusiasm) and finally one full pack of Hershey’s kisses (melted progressively on intervals of 10 seconds in the microwave and finally SUCCESS!).

7. While wandering around Hermann Park during Japan Fest, I discovered that gastronomically gifted Western girls dressed in tight black spandex wear sweating it out on taiko (Japanese traditional drum) are supposedly the IN thing now in Houston, and so are lesbian couples in Japanese tea ceremony, saggy breasts or otherwise.

8. I had dinner one evening with a friendly gay manager from my company, who, through some twisted coincidental chains of events (otherwise known as fate) fished out this blog from among the 17,980 (and growing) gay KL blogs out there, then somehow theorized that the blogger works in the same company as him, and then concluded, with ample divine intervention, that I am the blogger AND THEN, with full confidence and utmost courage, confronted the author himself, via the company mail system, into the inevitable confession. I soon found myself in the company of three more queer colleagues and their partners whose company I absolutely enjoyed. Thanks for the warm err.. exposure, Eric!

9. Four weeks after my arrival, I have managed to collect an assortment of photos of cute Asian men (in a surprisingly high frequency of occurrences all over town) in my camera thanks to self-taught yet nevertheless professional skills in spy photography, but I had to DELETE THEM ALL when a wicked colleague decided that he absolutely have to see all the wonderful photos that I have captured on my camera without any delay. I hate straight people.

10. My bed buddies have been as diverse, if not more, as the err.. meals that I’ve had. Though I’d love to believe that this was brought about by the overzealous attempts to flee from my boredom, and that deep down I could only be totally fulfilled by an Asian guy.

11. I waited a full month and a half before visiting Midtowne Spa again, that dreadful bathhouse where guys with semi-erect cocks walk around naked, or lie wanking on the bed in their private cubicles with the door ajar, or pose invitingly with their legs open ‘kangkang’ waiting for eager suitors to dominate them. I find that rather crude. It’s really no fun minus all the playful eyeing, hunting, and escaping, which even though frusfrating at times, are totally necessary for the ultimate climax.

12. I spent two hours chatting online with a guy who confessed at the end that he absolutely enjoys fucking watermelon. I’m not sure why he’s telling me this, but the last time I checked myself in the mirror, I don’t look like a rounded cockmouth-watering juicy fruit.

13. Due to a strange but perfectly natural intolerance of my throat to plain water, I resorted to drinking flavoured green tea as the most preferred alternative after my arrival, and have since shockingly concluded that a steady diet of this beverage will cause your faeces to turn green (rather coated in a layer of green stuff) after the fourth week.

14. Just last week, in a faithful realization of Jay’s observation, a 73yo grandmother became the proud winner of a USD23mil casino jackpot and during an interview with a CNN reporter, announced that she had received two marriage proposals since the news broke. What has this got to do with me, you asked? Well nothing, except that I did spend a couple of minutes pondering the most enlightening contrast of gleaming new cash notes on weak, shriveled fingers.

15. I met a Thai guy one night (yeah, one of those rare ones here) who got so freaked out by how well I speak Thai that no explanations would settle his suspicion that I’m really one of his kind and just not admitting it. I had to show my identity card at the end before he would even touch me, that was after he did a quick check around the room for hidden cameras and potentially murderous objects like typewriters, high heel shoes and stunt guns.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Of Cobwebs And Hotel Rooms

Sitting in front of my laptop in the hotel room, frantically switching windows between chatroom sessions, yahoo messenger and blog sites, my life here in Houston seems to have shrunk to such a dreary existence that I sometimes feel utterly unmotivated to even breath. In a city where you could virtually hold a chinese 9-course dinner right in the middle of the road in downtown after office hours, and where folks whose sole idea of entertainment is eating out and growing fat, suddenly the whole notion of walking down Bukit Bintang, never mind its limited charms, becomes wildly exhilarating. Sure, you may have an entire gay neighborhood to yourself, but that also mean that hooking up is never more than a few doors away, leaving saunas pathetically deserted and discos few and far between. The good men are long gone I believe, grabbed by possessive, marriage-minded partners who sole purpose in life is to produce home-cooked meals to feed their husbands, while the weird and dysfunctional ones remain available to haunt whichever poor souls unlucky enough to cross their paths.

Now do allow me the luxury of busying myself with brushing off cobwebs that are starting to collect around my feet. And you’ll hear more about the weird men soon.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Ramblings No. 98

I felt my body being tossed over. Took me a while to register where I was as I struggled to open my eyes and make sense of the dead quiet of the night. The unfamiliar setting, strangely more comfortable than the bed in my hotel room, had the presence of another company, who was just now positioned under the blanket below me, and busy savoring his find there. I could never have had the physical capacity to fight his enthusiasm, regardless of whether or not it was what seemed like four in the morning, not at that time, and again, not in the next morning, where at the same time, I had turned to the windows and caught sight, beyond the Venetian blinds, of pine trees swaying carelessly in the wind. I was then fixed a very relaxing Jacuzzi bubble bath to tickle my numb senses, looked on by two very eager Giant Schnauzers who hungrily licked up all the foam that I would carelessly flicked in their direction, and soon afterwards, came to me when I was at the pool with tattered tennis balls in the mouth begging to play fetch.

Three loads over the span of thirteen hours, I turned to look at him as he took the junction out from his sub-division, and wondered if it was just yesterday that we had said hi to each other in the chatroom.

I don’t know about you, but at times like this, I’m so fucking glad I’m gay.

Monday, April 10, 2006

The Stop Sign

“Stop sulking!” Glass Door rolled her eyes and snapped at Stop Sign. “Your emotions, seething red, or otherwise, mean nothing to no one besides yourself. You could lie there till your colours fade and your metal corrodes away, and all that’s left is a pile of metal dust that eventually disperses off into the wind, or you could just quit it and get back to work!”

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Good Evening Houston

Signed off at 6:30pm from a deserted office on a Friday evening when even the cleaning lady was already done with her chores. Thought of my weekend plans as I took the 5-min walk back to the hotel but got too absorbed by the sight of lusty patches of greens on trees that I swore were perfectly bald just last week, and the random patterns of flowers dotting a perfectly manicured patch of lawn on both sides of the pavement, and how the setting sun seemed to have positioned itself to appear like a blinding lightbulb on the rooftop of a gated apartment.

Ok, I'm going to the chatroom for some inspirations.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

The BravingKL Priceless List

Priceless are things drown in everyday commotions,
Resurrected in occasional reminiscence,
Yearned for in painful realisations,
And cried for in joyful reunions.
(unfortunately I'm still on the third line)

Magee Goreng Ayam: RM5:50
Milo Ais Kosong: RM1.50
Consuming the above combination at 3am in the company of 500 other patrons on dirt-and-leftovers-stained plastic tables and chairs spread out in a giant outdoor area used as a carpark during the day, complimented by Sungei-Wang-boutiques-wares-adorning Ah Bengs & Ah Lians fresh from pubbing, weekly sisters gatherings & night bird watching, insurance & direct sales mini seminar, limitless replays of chinese comedies from the 90s and live EPL matches: Priceless

Entrance to Mandi Manda: RM30
Exploring the darkened corridors dotted with creatures in various stages of evolution, DNA mutations and the aging process, and in a variety of copulation combinations and style improvisations, complimented by free on-floor and on-wall cum deposits, and on-air sound effects: Priceless

Parking at Low Yatt: RM3 for the first hour and RM1.50 for each subsequent hour
Brokeback Mountain DVD9, complete with special features: RM8
Golden Fried Rice from Causeway Bay: RM16.90
Being a part of the mass congregation of testosterone-charged college students and cash-packed fellow IT enthusiasts on a Saturday afternoon, amidst a staggering array of wares at cost-price grazing and breakneck competition, complimented by a healthy dose of gaydar triggers and startlingly ‘pecah’ cruising activities in the washrooms: Priceless

Petrol: RM1.92/litre
Toll charges: RM0.50 onwards
Being able to jump into my car and go wherever my heart desires at any time, never mind illusive potholes, hammer and chainsaw bearing road bullies, daredevil motorcyclists on suicide mode, queue-jumping drivers with imaginary wives in labour pain and creatively fashioned and administered fuck-you gestures: Priceless

Hotel Transfer to Bush International: USD70
Neck pillow to brave the 27-hour journey home: Complimentary
Gifts for family and friends: Undisclosed
To be back once again to experience all the above: Simply Priceless!

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Off Season For Love

During times when I felt I was absolutely choking from the still cold air of my hotel room and from the tired smell of instant noodle cooking in the microwave, he seemed to have come to my rescue. Fluffy may be too busy doing rounds with his buddies to give much priority to a pathetic visitor from halfway around the globe, but he, this different bundle of kindness and joy, couldn’t seem to get enough.

“Thank you for liking me.”

I stayed very still in his arms on the heated air bed of his room, stark naked except for a warm towel carelessly thrown across my stomach. If anything, those five words only made me cringe in an overpowering pang of tortuous emotion as soon as it hit my ears. I felt betrayed, for letting myself trade my body in exchange of some random caring and attention that were sadly just within convenient reach and nothing more. I felt pity, for I saw in his eyes endless nights of yearning for someone who would finally make his emotional investments worth while, of which I could, on many occasions, relate painfully to as well.

And then I felt a sense of panic, for the slightest hint of ill-anticipated affection would now launch within me an irreversible reaction to wildly reject any further act of love with cruel weapons of confusion, pain, agony and finally disappointment and defeat, to rid memories of any remnants of joy and to deny anticipation of any remains of hope. This is the perfect solution to a complication-free ending, my heart is never wired to handle and accept this concoction of goodness anyway, just like how I would pinch myself or blink helplessly in doubt when hearing an unbelievably good piece of news. My childhood curse in full bloom, nurtured to perfection with years of practice. I wish I had the strength to face it.

The bag of clothes he got for me is still lying at one corner of my hotel room, and has remained untouched since it arrived. I lied that they all fitted me beautifully.

I'm happy. I was.


Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Fluffy Sticky Cotton Candy

He seemed perpetually trapped in an endless loop of the verse of this catchy hit, and with the accompanying percussion effects of his hands on the steering wheel, I couldn’t stop giggling. As we drove past Niko Niko’s, I thought it resembled that Greek song that was spinning there last night, but he said Mexican music is different, and so was he. We didn’t seem to be in a hurry to find food, nevertheless the queer-choked emissions emanating from Cafe Adobe on a Monday night was like a far-reaching searchlight on a darkened winter night, impossible to miss, and so we joined in the cacophony of clanking wine glasses in the middle of sisterhood gatherings, beauty and fashion parade and raunchy talk shows with generous compliments of glittering evening wear, gym show-offs and mobile phone conversations. I saw the same spot where I had sat at on my first visit here. Strangely, it didn’t seem so hard to let go now.

Our conversations would run on and on post dinner to a teahouse where I taught him how to play Big 2 (and got beaten at every round except the first) till we returned to my room, of which the highlight would only arrived, better late than never, during the farewell hug at 1am that went into overtime and took on a life of its own. He caught the lingering base note of my perfume, and using the pretext of wanting to identify the brand, continued to hold on to me to extend his investigation.

He wasn’t even trying anymore before long. The anticipation of an impending farewell had just the opposite effect, so we continued to stay very still, both standing in a dozy embrace, solidified at the brink of a bidding kiss, just behind the hotel door.

I thought that was bliss.

When our lips finally met, I was skimming the thin line of consciousness at 3am, found myself under the sheets, looking at him sweating silly struggling to pull down my shorts that were already half way down my butt. I reached for his fluffy hair and closed my eyes again, all the while thinking that I had never been happier since I arrived three weeks ago.

I am happy. I am.


Saturday, March 25, 2006

Ramblings No.97

Eyes shut tight, Dorothy, fretful and all, clapped the heels of her shoes together three times and said,

There is no place like home.

There is no place like home.

There is no place like home.

And then she opened her eyes.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Butterflies And March Skies

Sub 15 chilly wind
Warm sunlight that tickles my skin

Blue cloudless sky
Strangers who greet you in the eye

Drizzling morning
I dream of Magee Mee Goreng

Broken CD tracks
Dandy flowers from pavement cracks

Deserted streets
Frozen overnight pizza from the fridge

Muted sigh
Stumbling and shivering down my spine

Sexy cowboys
Gleaming Rolls Royce

Collossal guts
Second to none except gigantic butts

Mindless comedies on TV
Restless mind searching for the exit key

Threesome in my room
Loneliness subsided but came back too soon

Two weeks down

Eight more to complete the round

Monday, March 20, 2006

Broken-Hearted Mountain

Ennis Del Mar lifted Jack's shirt. It seemed heavy until he saw there was another shirt inside it, the sleeves carefully worked down inside the outer sleeves. It was his own plaid shirt, lost, he'd thought, long ago in some damn laundry, his dirty shirt, the pocket ripped, buttons missing, stolen by Jack and hidden here inside Jack's own shirt, the pair like two skins, one inside the other, two in one. He pressed his face into the fabric and breathed in slowly through his mouth and nose, hoping for the faintest smoke and mountain sage and salty sweet stink of Jack but there was no real scent, only the memory of it, the imagined power of Brokeback Mountain of which nothing was left but what he held in his hands.

Saturday, March 18, 2006



Monday, March 13, 2006

Once Upon A Time In Sugarland

Walking down Westheimer holding two bags of groceries in my hand, my eyes strained to brave the blinding mid afternoon sun. It seemed I would be the only one crazy enough to actually not commute in a car, which may explain why the pedestrian traffic light stayed green long enough only to jolt me from my pithy reverie at the junction, causing me to break into a jog crossing to the other side of the road while the waiting vehicles got ready to be on their way.

I seemed to have done such a great job convincing myself I will never return to this city that the entire episode of experiencing the same settings again had such a surreal quality to it that I sometimes found myself short of air in disbelief. I wanted to reject this reality, yet I knew right from the first day I had arrived, that things didn’t seem like they were the first time around at all.

There were no rushing off for dinners after work, no coffee in Montrose, no kisses in the car, no holding hands in the cinema, no rushing to get ice-cream past midnight, no waking up to Kata, no Sugarland. No hurricanes. No nothing.

Was this still the same city that I had looked down, from the window of the departing plane, with such painful longing for all the things that went right?

The blinding sun kept pounding as I continued my walk back to the hotel, I thought I would never figure out the answer.

讓快樂 為我展開

和你共敘 原是可愛

逝去舊夢 願你拋開
懷愐舊事 徒令感慨
求求你 讓我躲開

多少淚 多少歡樂 化做無盡愛


梅艳芳 〈赤的疑惑〉

Thursday, March 09, 2006






Monday, March 06, 2006

The Alzheimer's Patient

I watched a play yesterday.

The play itself was not particularly heart wrenching, though the teary-eyed sister in front of me would let out the loudest sniff again to remind me that we all have very different emotional thresholds. Yet somehow, the various implications of the story cast me into another bout of helpless reminiscent.

Sitting in the passenger seat watching a drenched KL street scene passed by in a blur, it was like witnessing my own play being staged right on the windscreen, yet again, like the long shadows of a sunset that stubbornly clings on to you no matter where you turn, except that perhaps a sunset does not last as long. I blinked helplessly wishing that I would snap out of it, yet how do you escape the sun.

The play told of a young man suffering from Alzheimer’s who would forget his way home every time it rained. During a similar episode one afternoon, a passer-by came to his rescue with an umbrella and they fell in love. The story ended tragically with the rescuer killed in a horrid accident, and the Alzheimer’s patient would go on with his life unable to recall even his name. Memories, it seemed, were mere waves on a vast ocean that would sink without a trace as quickly as they had risen. It didn’t matter if it had reached a record-breaking height, or if it rose in a peculiar way no other waves had risen before it. It was just destined to follow the law of the gravity and return to where it belongs.

In a cruel analogy in the play, the Alzheimer’s patient’s painstaking effort to document his memories in a laptop became fruitless when a malfunction wiped out all data. And he could only watch and wait helplessly as the disease ripped him slowly, piece by piece, of all his most precious moments in life. They may be heart-warming recounts, painful recollections, or life changing and defining instances, yet they deserved only the shortest of existence.

We all too, I realised in the end, suffer from Alzheimer’s. Just like the lead character in the play who would go on to forget the most profound love in his life, we shut down our mental facilities selectively and decide to forget many things, like the guy whom we have confessed our love to, or the one we have promised not to forget, or the one whose life we had gone all way out to destroy. Perhaps you forgot how much it meant at that point in time, but the disease has no cure, and you are just a helpless wave destined to return to the ocean.

I remember I have loved a man.

I remember I have loved..

I remember I have..

I remember..



Friday, February 24, 2006

When I Dream Again

It seemed to me like I’m back in the strange cold city all by myself again. Dragging my luggage from the airport exit, I remember taking a deep breath of air on that quiet mid summer morning, as deep as you would take if I were to ask you to hold your breath for 30 seconds, and then suddenly realized that I could never just jump into any vehicle to reach home even if I had the strongest and most desperate urge to be at the place I rightfully belong.

And then the meetup on that same night that would cast a spell so strong I could only be helplessly swept along its torrents of emotional ecstasy.

Looking out the airplane window towards the vast expanse of land below me on the day of my departure a month later, my eyes strained as they greedily captured every last detail of all things Houstonian that flooded my vision.

I thought I would never be back again, until a few days ago.

But yet, just like how cruelly different life will turn out even if you were to relive it and make exactly the same choices all over again, I know I would never relive my first trip anymore. Yet, as I step out of Bush International Airport for the second time next month, I would remember to put on a broad smile, as I hold on to the fond memories of this city, and then hail a cab and brave whatever dreams that may now come my way.

Oh gosh, no more hurricanes please.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Elephant Bites

The still air choked of his perspiration as we continued to hold on to each other in the stuffy private cubicle. I ran my fingers down his spine and into his drenched hair, and quivered as I felt his tongue touched my ears. Then I knew immediately that I had again slipped into a dream. For only in dreamland would the heightened emotions seemed so surreal, yet as much profound as it would be short-lived; for only in dreamland would I be able to terminate my passion as quickly as the folding door had slipped open again, and then looked back and congratulate myself for having remembered it all. Fantasies it seemed could be warped to form this shape and that in a dream, yet they would seem every bit irrelevant and laughable in reality. I let it ran its full course, never once thought of reliving the tiniest fraction of what I was feeling when the show drew close, and yet, I realized, with a mix of disbelief and glee that some of these passion had indeed crossed over into the real world in the form of tiny love bites.

In the attempt to return the favour, I was told to wait for elephant-sized bites. Perhaps dreams do not terminate brutally, but traverse the day to play again when night falls. How could you tell?


Tuesday, February 14, 2006

To Leo, With Horror

Just into my third round checking out the facilities and my little brother had suffered its eighth pinch, sneakily and professionally administered at the right moment and angle, to maximize on the element of surprise, rendering the victim shocked and helpless, thus ensuring that a swift escape was possible. The culprits, as high in volume as they were persistent, matched the standard stereotypical descriptions of thinning hair, greasy face, triple chin and colossal gut, with room to spare for foul-smelling breath and rotten teeth. Revenge by mean of reciprocation, of course, would be God-sent for them. I had to suffer the inconvenience of walking around with completely cupped private parts.

Over at the little lounge, the owner, dressed in chequered skimpy hotpants (and nothing more), was dashing around silly putting up the finishing touches of some decorations for the Chap Goh Meh event on a tiny stage. Joining her on stage was one of her fellow sisters, just now in the middle of a karaoke performance. It was a song from the 70s era I believe. The establishment’s very effective in-house sound system ensured full, uninterrupted coverage (complete with the haunting falsettos, out-of-tempo and off-key effects) to every crook and corner of the sauna, dirty cracks of the toilets and cum-stained ply-wood partitioned walls of the dark rooms not excluding.

The hunks, all gathered at the darkened lounge at the entrance of the maze, seemed too disinterested to show any form of reaction. Their shadows were the only thing that were moving, thrown onto the walls by candle lights from aromatherapy burners. These crème de la crème, top of the crop, objects of desire didn’t have to lift an eyebrow to have their egos blown out of proportion here. Any remotest hint of interest would go against their principles and throw their holy images to dirt. So here they sat, since time immemorial, to glorious eternity.

I stood, for the longest of time too, in front of a cement structure carelessly pieced together to hold a pool of muddy water that was being piped in from a few hoses running over the edges. I think it resembled a Jacuzzi.

Roy said we should leave. I thought I would love to stay for the party, but that was before I stepped on something mushy in the showers. It felt like a soaked lump of tissue paper, but of course the unmistakable stinting smell was no mistake at all.

Time to head home.

Saturday, February 11, 2006

This Weekend ...

... I will be bravingPenang for a change.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006





Friday, February 03, 2006

And The Owner Says: Let There Be Private Rooms

The Year of Dog seems to signal more hornydays to come as Kakiku sped up its improvement frenzy with the recent addition of private rooms to its line-up of facilities.

Oh, Come, All Ye Lusful.