Thank You

With mere days before we bid our good byes to dear 2006 , one does feel an abundance of bombardment from the multitude of should have's & could have's. Perhaps we could have just spent a little more time being home with loved ones, perhaps we should have bought that elusive number which was calling my name from the crumpled car, or quietly whispered to Zidane that no lying mafia banged his sister ; perhaps we could have made lesser necessity of having too much expired wheat,rotten grapes & pickled potatoes as our staple food, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps (& if you really love me say yes, if not... confess, just had to) ... lets leave such cynical shackles of wanting to know what bad has happened, or allowing ourselves to be blinded & twisted with augmented truths and pretty lies. Lets bid this farewell with a happy rather than hardened heart & greet the year with the grace of a smile.

Thank you 2006....

When you come to the end of a perfect day,
And you sit alone with your thought,
While the chimes ring out with a carol gay,
For the joy that the day has brought,
Do you think what the end of a perfect day
Can mean to tired heart,
When the sun goes down with a flaming ray,
And the dear hearts have to part?
Well, this is the end of a perfect day,
Near the end of a journey, too,
But it leaves a thought that is big and strong,
With a wish that is kind and true.
For mem'ry has painted this perfect day
With colors that never fade,
And we find at the end of a perfect day,
The soul of a friend we've made.

Have a wonderful New Year.

Addiction...

Purely an addict to desire,
Richly rude with adamant insistence,
Itching boredom finding many nerves,
Solemn curves of blessed echoes,
Crying endlessly in blissful sermon.

In love my dear & in hate,
Laughing shall cringe to tears,
Let desire & addiction,
Anger the thoughts of peasants.

As your gentle hands,
Seed the coils of our ravaging bodies
So firmly shackled to my back,
here you consume ;
Oh my life with your lips.

Lets merely drink to addiction,
eating dreams and fingering reality,
All yearning in bitted paradox,
Nothing more nothing less,
Through simple fact,
Nothing loves and nothing lives,
addicted to me… so sad indeed.

P.C


... next up Ledang Pt 2... soon la

Ledang... the beginning

Through time, how often we get subdued to the madness that was once part & parcel of our everyday existence. Such was the tides which brought our bodies to the most rediculous and yet most unusually enchanting surroundings. As for the mind, it was torment glossed in bliss.

So here I was, the year stood vaguely between the beginning and the middle of 2004. A year had passed since the enrollment into poly and all passion for the sea had seized to exist. One wonders where did the love dissipate too, and what winds were to carry my dimentia.

Thus beleive was under a spell of an unreachable oasis, such was the days which pass with the only indulgence of energy being wastefully burnt through tabacco and drowned in sinful spirit. (Nothing has changed) Like a child, waiting to explode to a place that brought forth no comprehension and little memory.


Bukit Panjang was home, and here brewed the residency of vices. As much as we climbed, and yet we found our feet deeply rooted or rather roting in the vicious decay of enjoyment... What drunken slobs??!! With too much tickling with our pickled livers, a menacing goblin in our minds soon hatched a plan. Shore leave brought Kenny home, in addition, the burnt bridges with Manipal had been some what amended. Where were we to go? We had long forgotten our pilgramage to Mount Ledang, and there it was, like a spark in a heap of dry leaves..., the burning hunger to scale the coarse and yet mystical contures of Mount Ledang, was just another reason to make time the tenants to our cockeyed perceptions. Perhaps just another episode of amusement in our drunkened banter.

Rendeavour point, where else but home, Malacca... I was to neglect the attention for classes in the Island and find all available means to forcefully tramp with impulse up north. Sure enough, with the dwindling coffers, there was just enough to furnish the bus ticket from Larkin & a satisfying pack of Dunhills.

Commuting by bus has an uncanny resemblance to that of a ship.
The huge chunk of metal farting valiantly along the intended route. The steady droning of the engine, accompanied by the occasional humps and bumps gave sound reason to employ the mind into an abrupt meditation. Why did I leave the heavens alone? Silently I asked and the boggling thoughts morphs in a realm of absolutely fogged clarity.

Here came the dementia of realization, the many travels and the neglected dedication seem to be the song which I so habitually dance to. You could almost feel the cool breeze careesing the cheeks through the caged windows, and with the lights turned off, the first guest arrives from the starry nights.

The stars have come out from the raised twilight curtains, and almost immediately one drama after another unfolds in the skies. Orion the Hunter fashioned through his flashy loud belt caught in the infinite pose taking aim his heartless arrow to my dear Taurus, & he who grazed the land stands knowingly in valour but in arrogance of its dying outcome. Beneath the feet of Orion, his two best friends crouched in a prancing, pounching position, ever ready to haul in the bounty with the might of the their jagged jaws. On some nights, this silent sketch on the darkened canvas is interestingly brightened by the rays of the Gods. The love of Venus who tries in vain to make amends of this hopeless crossfire and the red rogue of Mars adding a slight pinch of brilliant radiance to the ballads in the sky.

I would breathe in the convulsive confusion of the present despair and I wonder endless where art thou? Hours went by and the eyes stared blindly into the skies, my temperaments were left in bewilderment as the usual story of being drunk in the sea of thoughts. As I blinked and there it remained the remanding shadows of lights which refused to budge from the corner of the eye ; & again I blinked the nights turned to an eclipsed that swallowed all acquaintance with darkness only to create bolder colours.

How do we comprehend this pretense of the mind? hence the boundless blurred beauty of Ledang....


" From all I've done and all I've said
let them not seek to find who I've been.
An obstacle stood & transformed
my acts & way of my life.
An obstacle stood & stopped me
many a time as I was going to speak.
My most unobserved acts,
and my writings the most covered...
thence only they will feel me.
But mayhaps it is not worth to spend
this much care and this much effort to know me.
For in the more perfect society
someone else like me created
will certainly appear & freely act
.....CPC 1908

Senseless... Part 2

The hazy shadows of the mid-day sun, beating irritatingly on the back of my head. I watched the dilapidated state of my beloved Phantom, and find myself pussyfooting with my decision, should I shoot up north 204KM to the motherland with my baby, or just succumb to the torturous wait (Larkin Bus Terminal) of chasing a belching bitching bus?

Finally the concoction of thoughts lead to a solution, just HIT THE ROAD, with the only formula of "Tomorrow do thy worst for I have lived today". Luggage was hastily packed, found an old pirated version of a pair of Killer Loop to replace my broken visar(obviously due to insane amounts of cheery brandy), all the necessities were intact, Passport and Ipod. The Second Link was the choosen route, and with an early departure, it proved to be a good move considering the lesser density of traffic. Departure time clocked at 13:30hrs, weather hot and hazy, Phantom was slightly under the weather but the impulse was in top gear.

But with the way of the world with the Mutton Muggol, God just enjoys working in mysterious ways, he decided to snub the Phantom's speed, whereby I could only manage to churn & squeeze a miserable 90km per hour.

Consider it a bleesing, Slow means safe, but with all good virtues comes the evident malfunction through impatiences. Travelling at 90 on the highway, let me slightly rephrase, travelling at 90 on a Malaysian Highway.... everything overtakes you, those rampaging buses seem to breeze pass with blinding speed and little care, I beleive the hotline numbers pasted on the back of the buses have done little or nothing to curb these demons. The eyes began to slip away, devoured by the dimness of the haze. Suddenly lighting struck, as we almost breached the 70km mark the Phantom just decided to play dead as we passed the exit to Machap. The dying silence from my beloved Phantom drowned through the savage speed of those monsters on the road.


Shocked, bemused, confused, the body was twisted with rage. Why I asked?? Why do liars still strive with their trade, the multitude of layers which an adult runs their life have more senile undertones than of the simple distinct mindset between vice & virtues through the heart of a child. 15 agonizing minutes ticked away, I began fingering the basics of the bike's mechanism.

Petrol? Impossible a full tank takes me 250KM & we were not even halfway through, perhaps it was some serious issues with the engine(which I had just overhauled)... Just left my earphones dangling, and after the umptenth time trying and praying for some miracle ... my persistant curses and actions were gently brought to eaze with the firing of the engine. Even with the choppy jagged sounds vibrating from a dying soul, it still managed to calm the beast.

By this time, I was awake, worried that I would suffer greater setbacks in the fight between man & machine to reach the motherland. What if it stalls again, and refuses to be awaken, what if it explodes and blows off my right leg, what if it decides to wildly swerve into a lorry.... One word just made everything a little more palatable, and I figured things can always be worst. so FUCK IT!! Nevertheless, the thought of calling a tow truck was lingering the mind.


One stop later, the dangling earphones which I have forgotten had melted through the blistering heat of the exhaust,silly me...!! with the excitement of reviving my love, I had forgotten that my earphones were crying for help, but luck was oddly on my side, the earphones were still in good working order . Two stops later I had covered 170km, and fatigue slowly blossomed into excitement, it has been 6 months since I last found my way to the hand that rocked the cradle. Nearing every milestone, I just felt like kicking myself in the head, to think my many weekends, which should have been spent in the motherland, I have ignorantly subjected the body to senseless alcohol abuse, consequently leading to the neglect of being home. I keep looking up, but why don't I just look around.



The feeling to pass the Murky Water Toll are beyond these petty words,the hands streched and glided in contentment, I knew I was home, even if the Island has been a house for 5 years, it has turned an innocent loaf of bread to a bone, it was home but alone I sit staring at the four walls. This is where the heart is. The instant rewinding of my bleak memory brought me to perspective, just made my thoughts of being cloistered & exiled absolutely redundant to the songs of desire. Where have I been? and why have I choose to dissappear... however the debate would lie upon the quote " too much of a good thing can be a bad thing", on the other hand this can also imply to my constant romance with Miss Dunhill & Mrs Tiger :P


It did not seem too long ago that I only managed to fill my pockets with the excess coins found under the rubber mat of the Nissan 130Y, but it was during such times whereby we had little, but more to share, unlike now whereby we have more but nothing to share. It seemed like yesterday we would be happy with mere fresh air and cup of milo, which was enough to instigate mindless galavanting as though we were the Master's of the Universe.

But for now nothing else mattered... I have braved the machine, the bombardment of self imposed questions... thus I have answered, gently the tears dampened the muddy cheeks. These streets love me more than you. Time 16:30hrs.

A passing thought....
"But if you ever come to a road where danger
or guilt or anguish or shame to share.
Be good to the lad who loves you true,
And the soul that was born to die for you
And whistle and I'll be there".....Housman

Senseless..Part 1

Holiday where are thou? Colombo 2004

Yet again, alcohol the culprit, hence my glaring absence from "The Yard".
The month of September has been a complete headache with my new Partner In Crime, the Phantom. Problems after problems, and the escalating cost and the amount of time spent has left my pockets in dire straits and further inflicting neglect on the more important things in life, like DRINKING & SMOKING.
Besides that, there has been an increase with basketball activity in Singapore, and I have no idea as to why fools like me end up playing for 3 teams. *Perhaps the lack of nutrition from tropical fruits gives way to such unnecessary indulgence. All I can say is "1 trophy down, 2 to go!!"

Anyway, here I am again... hopefully to string my thoughts together.

Pic: Phantom getting a good wash, and Cavs Warriors BBAXN League Champions (Saturday) 2006

Senseless Pt 1

Where the hours became happy,
Hence the yearning thrist became uneasy,
Oh,Where art thou dear friday,
Restless eyes hunted the deer'y,
Elephants trampled the soul through fury.

Be however limp the beating hearts,
Itching nerves simmered in blooded bliss,
Though pale is the death of the dying moons,
Cruelly swift passing eclipses the scorching suns,
Heavens are brightly clad in dark black gowns.

Thus with words we bartered,
Erring & inviting smiles we excepted,
And with time the whinning wine perfected,
Rising the virgin red apple has ripened,
Seeking serpents that licked the flesh you wanted.

Nectar was me and taste was you......

Penelope C 1980Perhentian mid 2005...the quickie

A passing bitch.

APL CORAL Docking 2003

To write volumes of nonsense, gently morphs stupidity into logic.

As I gaze the murky plains of the quay, my speech had turned to a parrot for no one seemed interested with my invitation for Mexican.

Then like a messiah, her presence made the universe dance to her feet whereby there was a stream of pink rose petals fondling her footsteps. The wind which caught her hair, raptured with cascades of bliss. Lost I became, and the depth of the grave I fell, made sunlight even brighter. Blood had rushed to my temple, setting my ears blazing and blushing my discoloured cheeks. The heat melted the stealth within my knees, and what more I wondered than these petty words could I have said. These words seem to simple, too unfair, for the all the colours at my disposal my brushes were confronted with a confused potray to paint.

"Who was I?", I asked.... except a slave to such agonizing beauty who stood under the gawking haze and heat which dispatched me into dreams. But with the recollection of my eyes and imagination, it began carressing the surreal soft milky condensation of her brightly coloured pale skin, the eyes caught the tiny teasing mole above the upper creast of the breastbone.



"How may I help?" With all that thinking these were the silly few words I muttered & mumbled,*hopeless!!, the heart pranced like a whinning horse, thus I began to launch the missle of charms to implore her perception. Sittings by the river were filled to the brim, but the roof top had a more enticing view... as the story goes, my charm was nullified by her sheer arrogance, Her uncompromising stance of wanting the riverside was beyond my control. How I cursed those bastard hogging the table with a barrage of silent vulgarity.

Transporters accross the Suez 2002

However in all hell, there was one more stairway to heaven.... a tour and of course some imaginary discounts were on offer. Her mother was pleased, and my determination was further carved upon the ego with the exceptance from the sister. But she being who she was opposed everything my Kingdom had to offer.

She came, captured and castrated my soul within mere minutes. Bewildered I became for nothing could have changed her prejudice, pathetically I was robbed & left to rot. I cannot explain my observation, nevertheless the search continues to the pangs of despair to unearth such baffling mysteries. *what rubbish!!

.......... I have seen something under the sun,
the race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong,
nor the food come to the wise
or wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned ;
but time and chance happen to them all

Moreover, no man knows when his hour will come,
As fish caught in a cruel net,
or birds are taken in a snare,
so men are trapped by evil times
that fall unexpected upon them................Ecclesiastes 9



















Fire dance Perhentian 2001

Eyes only for you... Chapter 2

Surprisingly sleep did not curse me to be bedridden, Friday 6:45AM, quietly moved around my room not wanting to wake Ruby who was happily snooring away. Work went on as per normal, there were too many urgencies to handle, and with my "own time, own target" set slightly on the unattainable, I found myself tinkering with the computer doing close to nothing and floating beneath the dew of milk from the crest of a breast. *what was i thinking?

As the sun increased itself in altitude, and the craving for Mutton Curry from the canteen joyfully satisfied, my body began the painfull process of moving into shut down phase. It was another four hours until we officially ended, and the heart, nerve and sinew began to oppose rebeliously my escapades the night before. Every phonecall triggered total discomfort, every push of the key become an act of backbreaking trauma and every thought was only begging and yearning for some form of rest. Finally at 4, I could no longer hold on and made my decision on not staying, hurrily I left on time ; but leaving on time meant I had to meet Ruby for the keys and to dileberate the plans for the remainding waking hours. Departing the yard was a breathe of fresh air (literally as we are situated right beside an oil refinery)my exhaustion mysteriously dissappeared, and our rendeavous point was Beer Garden along lady Shipyard Road, never knew it existed till then. Rama coincidentally was also in town, big dreams of going to the gym to prep for the grudge game the next day was in the cards. So again Ruby and I were galloping on the Phantom. Cleared some bills and another impulsive decision made way for further actions ; we were to make our way to JB!!

Laying the keel at Dock 2


The jam along the causeway was palatable, took us a good 30 mins to clear, and it was much needed "teh halia" to calm the feeble mind. Another one of my favourite hangouts, Muthu's along Dobi Road... my conversation began to slur due to fatigue, and of course with a limp mind, more impulses began to intoxicate actions ; we were to top up, load up on ciggies and shoot to Marina Bay for the National Day Fireworks, and so we did just that. Alvin had already made reservations for a table by the river. Our arrival was greeted with the abundance of crowd tempered with chaos whereby everyone was wrestling for a good view of the show. Where were we to find parking in this madness?, It would have been alright just to watch the show anywhere, but the prospects of actually having a perfect view was there and great Alvin was the answer to our woes. Luck was on our side, parking came in the form of apparently legal parking behind some shaddy building. We rushed, jostling across herds of kiasu cattle,(Ruby walking within the Malaysian pace, and I was on running the mile in 4 minutes) time was still on our side, and Alvin was seated comfortably in One Fullerton. It is moments like these "kiasuism" was at its best, everyone did not want to make way even for passerby's, the Police had condorned all movement along the main road to avoid any unforseen meetings between man & machine, thus leaving all walkable areas with little room for movement.


Finally we got to One Fullerton, the line in was another amazing sight and heart breaking, there were just too many people, but Alvin was the Man!! all he had to do was to inform the bouncers that "we" had arrived and for "safety purposes" we were let in immediately, before it devil started speaking. Quick introduction to break the ice with his pals were made and we were even quicker to seek comfort with a pint of Stella.(No Kilkenny tsk tsk tsk...) 2 mins to blast off, and a mesmerizing blast it was.... it was a the singapore team showcasing their skills. The accompanying music was not loud enough, but the fire works itself was very beautiful. Shimmering arabic skirts bursting in the air, alien stares from the base of liftoff, the momentum picked up with the passing time and the reflection which could be seen from the mirrors of Marine Mandarin was superb... the heart was at awe and senses mostly captivated.

With the end of the fireworks, the crowd mellowed to a whisper almost immediately. And this time it was three to tango, Alvin, Ruby and I... next plan "small drinks" at the forbidden city. Here we found ourselves with new friends from Ireland and Auzzie, (memory tainted in alcohol, makes no room for names to remember) The forbidden city was a very pretty place, tentalizing lighting, cousy sofas, music was with the flow of good beats & Kilkenny was indeed on the menu, the pricing fair. Conversation was in staccatos with the guest, however after a drink or two eveything began to fall in place. Again another plan blossumed, MOS!! Oh fuck me, I need sleep!! I gave a very reluctant yes to Alvin but his trust in us being his backups just fueled interest in the club for other simple reasons ; to finally indulge first hand of all good & bad things that have been said about the great Ministry of Sound. The entrance made Zouk look like a dying dog. There was one particular dancer that moved as though he bones were dettached from her hips, and she gave her mind bending moves on the podium with all eyes transfixed, must applaude her (Roman Abramovich style) for she did beyond well. Cover was for two drinks and gradually we threaded darker

waters. I just couldn't wait for the Rhythm and Blues room....Smoove. Sure enough Alvin had it all planned out to perfection, he was to be the tour guide and we the tourist, finished our drinks and there we were like kindergarden children on a leash while the teacher dragged us accross the crowd. First Stop Club 54 retro room, not my cup of tea however it was a good dancing crowd, here we had a generous amount of old timers with their dilluded escorts. The women loved the place, for whatever sordid reasons, and we were uncomfortably pacing within our confinement. So next stop, was Pure, and bliss it was, it depicted the abode of love. The party concoction was just right, not too many people, music a good blend between house,latin,samba plus electronic, and sure enough there were many eye catching quotable vessels. Nevertheless, we still had one more stop, thus with one more hope for better things to come. However the bigger the anticipation, the bigger the dissapointment. Our last stop being "Smoove" the crib, was packed with young army goers, the heatbeat of the dance floor was the rhythm of mediocre tracks, every living soul crowded the dance floor, and to add salt to the wound ; movement was minimally and overly pretentious. So off we were, dropping off the ladies in the retro, while Ruby and I showed some faced by being in an unwanted arena.... enough was enough, and we needed Pure to feed of our desire of more rapturous hallucination.

The crowd picked up, straight ahead were the usual "pataya" lady boys who were the best dancers as always ( or rather more animated), their intentions were merely focused on cock teasing prospective partners, ... as much care and meticulous work done on them to be showcase who they really are, the overall outlook was a rather confusing sight. Time 1:30am, and it was the Kickoff of Happy Hour, drinks were one for one, which resulted with good introduction to my new favourite blend of whiskey....whiskey grind. Perfect, with the sweet potions for distortion which filled my veins with illogical passion, hence I began trying to acquire my vessel, but she had set sail to Africa. My eyes refused the mind to stop staring, and she was a trance in visioned of a person. Her hips trapped by the hardened grasps of her tootsie. He danced without a care in the world, for he just stood like a statue while she , his sole posessions made sure he was hers, and she being the part of his rotten ribs, made him God, ..... her raw unscatched matted locks, ressembled the thick embroidery of medussa's hair... while her skin was a tapestry of arabian silk and the amazon tiger, She danced only to him, and her eyes was clear brown layered in blue, lips laced in ruby red with lust.... and it was only for him, for he struck a pose, and she swayed to his wills, and her eyes was in a trance only of him, she swayed like a swan while he was her post....and I breathe the heavy pull on dunhills to catch scent of her skin....alas I had not a chance, but only too look beyond her beauty... those eyes were of total vice of sin, and yet she only looked at him....as I watched in vain.

Anyway, Happy hours resulted the pockets to dry up faster than one can say "Jack Robinson". Whiskey, Vodka, Gin.... and here came the Irish accountant, can't really remember his name, he came appeared in absolute disgust & frustration from retro music, he was higher than a kite, for all I recalled from the Forbidden City conversation with him was clear and precise, but he had one too many and Irish blood was taking his sane mind into a coup, I had to dig out my ear drums and crack my head to comprehend his conversation. However one thing was clear, he was happy... dancing like a kid who managed to catch his balls, and balls he did want to catch.... the trannies caught his attention and he was head over heel...... until I had to point the obvious that a sailors does know best," they are men" he stop stopped dancing & looked at me in amusement and confusion *are you sure?, Alvin came by and he burst out laughing for his parrot got flacid with the facts, continued laughing and acknowledged his stupidity with 2 big high fives hoping to avoid any more embarassment..... consequently drowning his sin of thought with more drinks.

The music only got better, and the time grew even later.... but who the fuck cared!! We were happy and soon desire was subjected to reality, that we had way exceeded our " curfew" yet again*strike two. The Yard always has a sad story on Saturday, because its a working day & I foresee a difficult match against the Wednesday Night Ballers in the evening whereby our last meeting triggered off a fracas of fighting, police, doctors and a sweetest thing I have laid eyes on, a baby named Shima. Anyway, here we were, three hungry drunk, and what else was there except McDonalds. Our misadventures lead us here, and within the que, I caught scent, these specimens of raw and wild passionate beauty, even without touching them the aura of ambience was softer than the clouded heavens.*must be the alcohol But with perfection, the imperfections became even bolder, their skin upon closer inspection ( no no, they were not lady boys) was tainted with unimaginable amounts of paints, even with such natural length on their lashes, they were forced fed with thick layers of black rubbish.... alas, my lust for them diminished, and I swayed my attention yet again to an unnecessary slut of a specimen. However, we just settled with contentment another night of Mc Donald's Chicken Pattee.... In all that imagination, Alvin in his dazed stance found great irritation of a couple of foreigners bullying poor locals. The Island and it's policies have somewhat made the people ignorant of what is. How I wished those punks disrupted our circle, for one has to be kind to your neighbours, thus this shall transcend to their neighbours...... pain begets pain.


We were the gang of three hungry ghost, gobbling like gluttons accompanied with what seemed to be serious conversation of life but in truth it was mere drunk men ranting .Alvin and I had great guilt for we had outdone ourselves, how the hell we were to manage the Yard in morning (which was only 2 hours away), And I had bigger concerns because I was adamant to head back with the Phantom in such pickled state? Ruby on the other hand, was happily wiping the chillie sauce off his mustache.......

Vancouver 2001, I miss the sea