May 10, 2010
Moved
I watch you from a distance, one foot in the hazy past, inner vision obscured by memories of smoke-filled rooms. I see you from before juxtaposed almost on top of you now and it seems like a cheap version of déjà vu; there’s the familiarity of having seen all this, but without the sensation of having been here before.
Because I haven’t. I have never sat in front of you, your fingers plucking strings of melancholy and need, without feeling like I’m cast adrift in an interminably vast ocean and the only salvation is to surrender and let your bittersweet strains carry me to an alien shore.
The shift is subtle, as if space itself rotated a few degrees and I’m seeing you from another angle. I watch, almost detached, remembering. I close my eyes for a while, as if I don’t quite trust what’s in front of me, and let the soul you put out there wash over me.
Your voice tender like a potter’s hands moulding curves; harsh to smooth the jagged edges of a broken heart. I wait for the searing sensation of being swept away but I feel soothed, for once, instead of ignited.
When I open my eyes, they connect with yours, as if you knew what I was thinking. Sometimes you read me like an open book. You flash that roguish grin my way. I wink in reply, mind still half there, half in that other place that seems like a lifetime ago.
“We’ll go for dinner soon, okay?” you say later.
I remember the hours…. several of them, through dark nights and early mornings, the conversations about nothing and everything.
“Sure, we should catch up,” I reply sincerely.
And I know you’ll make good on your promise. Because you are the same sweet, utterly incorrigible, deeply conflicted individual you have always been.
It is I who have been acutely moved.
May 7, 2010
Beautiful Bali indeed
What intrigues me about Bali is its inherent duality, often side by side and often starkly contrasting. On one hand, it is a deeply spiritual place with tradition, culture and rituals set in the ways of the people and imprinted in their old architecture – on the other, it whores itself to the hordes of tourists with streets of rowdy pubs, overpriced shops and just blatant and crass commercialism infesting every other corner. The locals are quite possibly the most humble, sincere and nicest people you could ever meet – but they won’t blink an eye in quoting you 5 times the price of what something’s worth.
Some of the things I loved were the gorgeous sceneries, their beautiful arts and craft, their particular style of ethnic design and architecture, and of course, the genuine warmth of the people I met. The place has soul, and my home city seems so cold and unfriendly in comparison.
The wedding was gorgeous. Bro rented a private villa atop a cliff which had a stunning view overlooking the Indian Ocean. If you peered long and hard enough, you might see Australia. They exchanged vows in a traditional Catholic ceremony with a kindly looking priest, on a little plateau jutting out of the villa. I doubt there was a dry eye in the little audience made up of the immediate families.
I have to thank my good friend S for pulling off such a beautiful wedding despite a lot of setbacks she experienced. It’s the stuff dream weddings are made of – from the stunning panorama serenaded by the achingly sweet string quartet, to the flower petals strewn on the grass, chiffon ribbons on the chairs and jovial wedding band during the alfresco dinner.
I was truly, truly happy for my brother and for my family. I saw how happy they all were, and that’s just how they should be. At this point in life, it’s things like these that really matter and give meaning.
January 5, 2010
Implosions
As one, we turned to the flash of light in the sky that was so bright it had registered dimly behind my closed eyes.
“Wow!” I managed to utter after a few rapid heartbeats of silence punctuated by bursts of coloured explosions. I let out a giggle of delight which in any other instance would’ve made me cringe for its girliness.
“Aw… I do!” I turned back to him as he was still mesmerized by the display right in front of us. He let out his trademark chuckle louder and longer than usual, prompting more mirth to bubble up from the place he touched only with callous fingers. Calloused fingers.
“It’s a sign,” he explained, gesturing to the swiftly shifting kaleidoscope in the air.
“We should kiss now,” he added. I rolled my eyes and swatted him away, partly because it was cheesy but mostly because he said it.
We sat without needing words to spoil the moment, staring up. He shook his head, chuckled again and said, as he had many times before, that it was only with me. Only with me what? I wanted to scream.
Only with me your facade drops?
Only with me you aren’t judged?
Only with me you can be forgiven anything?
The lights reflected off his countenance, a surreal cast on chiseled features, reminding me not so much of a statue as of living ice. Slick, cold, impersonal. But like ice can thaw, he could be warm, snug, like a good dream. Perhaps it was what he meant by only with me. And then again, perhaps it was him taking liberties with the truth, with me.
The thing is, I would never know. Unspoken questions, unfinished sentences, words left unsaid… Light illuminates, but with him it only serves to cast shadows deeper into his recesses.
That realization hung in the air after the photonic prettiness faded from it.
He was as relaxed as I’d ever seen him, still marveling at the memory of such an unexpected thrill. This was how I wanted to remember him, in these little stolen moments away from reality.
December 31, 2009
Nonversations
~”You ditched me in McDonald’s a long time ago.”~
~”You’re the only person I can talk like this to.”~
~”I don’t know why I told you I had a threesome.”~
~”Are you not attracted to me at ALL?”~
~”You’re too clever for your own good.”~
November 19, 2009
Never forgotten, until we meet again
Pierre Andre Salim, 17 Sep 1981 - 18 Nov 2007
March 19, 2009
Recovery
I have been slacking and chilling at home, nursing my sore surgical incision…. which is closed up but inspires a fear that it’ll just open up and spill my guts to the floor should I so much as sneeze.
I haven’t sneezed in two weeks.
While physically I’m on the mend and feeling more and more ‘myself’, I’m harbouring fears that it’s gonna happen again. And that if it does, I’m not going to know about it until it’s too late. They said it was a ruptured ovarian cyst and tht I bled 1.5 litres of blood internally, probably due to the blood thinners I take. If it happened once, who’s to say it won’t happen again?
In the hours leading up to the surgery and after, I felt my mortality keenly. I always thought that my end would come with my PPH. But this new… thing… that had me immobilised on my bed, in pain, unable to even sit up, gave me a new perspective on the human condition. You just never know how fragile you are until you’re forced to your knees.
Did I think I would make it through the ordeal? I don’t know… my thoughts were disorganized, fragmented. There was always the pain, dulled if I lay still on my side, but knifing into my sides if I dared to move or clench my stomach. I thought about the people around me, felt bad that they had to worry about me. I wanted to tell them I would be fine. At the back of my head, I remembered someone telling me it’s not that easy for a person to die, and there was a small measure of comfort in that.
But through the haze, I remember I prayed. In a way, I was ready for whatever came. Not that I expected the worst – I knew I was strong enough, and that the surgery wasn’t an overly complicated one, and that they were taking all the precautions they could think of. When they wheeled me towards the operation theatre, I just felt relieved that something was going to be done to take away the excruciating pain.
While I think I was too weakened to be scared, the thought of going under the knife was intimidating. With false bravado I weakly waved to my loved ones before disappearing from their sight.
Inside, I was moved to the surgical table – each breath was laboured and shallow, as the slightest movement while lying down on my back brought sharp stabs of pain. But my torture didn’t last too long. Shortly after they strapped on an O2 mask and gave me a shot, I think, and then the lights and faces of the strangers around me swirled in a daze, and I was out.
I awoke, groggily, to the sounds of the surgeons above me, felt a keen soreness in my midriff, and was lifted onto a bed. I felt… relieved, and thankful. They wheeled me out, and my family and my dear djb were waiting where I left them. In my stupor, I had the presence of mind to wave again.
ICU for 3 days, and then 9 days in 2 wards. Home has never been sweeter.
Nutcracker, Li Wei, marriage and more
So I went down to Singapore over the weekend to watch The Nutcracker, which, if you are arts-impaired, is the ballet with music composed by Tchaikovsky. It was held at the Esplanade, choreographed and performed by the Singapore Dance Theatre. As usual, I have nothing to say but complimentary things about the Singapore dance scene. Having been in the NUS Dance Ensemble, I can safely say that there will not be a shortage of awesome gay dancers to take the country into infinity and beyond in this respect LOL.
En pointe!
Anyway, the performance was beautiful in terms of the gorgeous sets, the costumes and the technical/artistic standards of the choreography and dancing. It was slightly different than the version I’d watched with Pierre years ago, some bits better, some bits not as good… but close enough for me to remember what it was like watching it with him. I kinda teared up at one point thinking that he would’ve enjoyed it, either watching or working backstage, and offered a quick prayer in his memory. He is watching the best plays in front row seats where he is right now.
The rest of the trip was mostly just leisurely walking around and meeting up with old friends. There was an ex who’s getting married – yes, that one – whose wedding is next week so it wouldn’t be practical for me to go down again. We met up for breakfast, caught up with news, I handed him his gift, wished him all the happiness in the world and felt relieved my duty was done. But I am genuinely glad he found somebody. He’s outwardly the same charismatic guy I fell for, but I had gotten to know him through and through during that tumultuous 1 1/2 years, and suffice to say, I’m glad it’s over, buried and in the past.
Later on, passing a shop in Far East Plaza, I decided to get hair extensions! Yea yea, I can never decide if I like it short or long. Cropped was cool, and a lot of people liked me in that but maybe because it was different, I don’t know. Anyway, I find more security in long hair… it’s more conventional, more girly, and safe I guess. If short was a guy, he’d be the bad-ass on a bike. My creative head M says now I look like someone’s bitch lol. Maybe I am hahahaha.
I named my extensions Li Wei, since the hair is real hair from China. LOL. Wo shi chung guo ren!
Looks kinda like this, braided onto real hair. But my hair is black, so the elastic isn’t obvious.
Met up with old uni friends the next day. I’m really glad that even after we’ve all been seperated here and there for at least 5 years, we still can get together and it feels like it was just yesterday we were bumming around in each other’s rooms, talking shit, watching shit like Kung Pow, gorging on shit and just doing nothing but…shit. Good times! We’re still as crappy as ever!
Yea well, that was my weekend and the end of my one week leave.
December 15, 2008
They leave imprints in our skies
Was listening to Light Years by Pearl Jam, and then my friend talked about losing her mother. I thought about Pierre and started bawling. We cannot forget the people who’ve come and gone. They blaze in the sky like meteors, and when they go, we keep their light in our hearts.
—–
I’ve used hammers made out of wood
I have played games with pieces and rules
I undeciphered tricks at the bar
But now you’re gone, I haven’t figured out why
I’ve come up with riddles and jokes about war
I figured out numbers and what they’re for
I’ve understood feelings and I’ve understood words but how could you be taken away?
And wherever you’ve gone and wherever we might go
It don’t seem fair, today just disappeared
Your light’s reflected now, reflected from afar
We were but stones, your light made us stars
With heavy breath awakened regrets
Back pages and days that only could have been spent together but we were miles apart
Every inch between us becomes light years now
No time to be void or save up on life
Oh, you got to spend it all
And wherever you’ve gone, and wherever we might go
It don’t seem fair, you seem to like it here
Your light’s reflected now, reflected from afar
We were but stones, your light made us stars
—–
