She Slips into Her Lingerie

She slips into her lingerie

Unperturbed by the grace she has received in all her years of sacrifices and sweltering for a good family

Although it gave her a sense of satisfaction

When everything falls into place

Nothing seems to work well where affairs of the heart and physical longing is concern

it is lost in the midst of it all

Not that she is complaining

But in her endeavor for a better tomorrow

She is still, after all, a woman

Silhouetted inside her own compound

Which is not just a garden

But a playground she hasn’t had the privilege to explore when younger

In all her nakedness

Therein lives the effeminate man tied and knotted to her for good..


To her

He is but an innuendo who pleases no one but himself

With her needs and craving bloating within

She hungers for some wayward touch

Someone who could unbox her insatiable needs with care and respect a woman craves

Someone with enough resilience to sail the storm

Someone who understands when her soil needs wetting

And leave moist on her leaves

So she could eagerly wrap her petals around him

With the same attention, care and understanding given her

A wild orchid longing to bloom

Her craving now screams louder than the crashing of waterfall happening below

And thus she rhythmically nurtures herself

Oblivious to the melodrama and reverie

Triggering herself in alternate low high arousal

Immersing her thoughts in the most luscious of cosplay

Herself as the protagonist

At other times, the willing slave

She’s on fire…


With each contraction, she jolts to the spasms reacting on her crotch

Harnessing her to wince in delight

She abandons all thoughts of the man bequeathed

For he hasn’t a clue where her hot button situates

He understands neither her needs to have her gape widened to subdue the itch

But her imagery lover does

She yearns for his unassuming gallantry

And strong reassuring arms with a thrust that could make her clamp onto his hips wickedly

And gyrate his hump

She longs for her senses to be awakened

Because she is all woman


Her needs may be inconclusive

But right now, all she cares is to soar above the clouds

With a man who could coax the child out of her

She longs to be touched, teased, kissed and kneaded

She longs to be the wholesome woman before the coming of age

To even out the missed opportunities in her teens she so often reminisces

And in her latter years as a damsel caught in distress inside a restrictive society

She wants to be carried under his pinions and more

Much more…



she slips back into her lingerie

Again she loses herself in her own thoughts and caresses

But all those delights are but momentary pleasures

For as the sun sets

What which lasts was her struggle with silence and loneliness tormenting her in the fading twilight

As she straddles silently, her grief awaits her in the cuffed room

Of false pretenses…

~ Strange Occurrences 2 ~

Out of the few places I have ever lived, Fidelio Street was the most memorable. That was way back in 1981-2. We moved into that scruffy one story terrace link which was once occupied by my 3rd Ee but now has become my 2nd auntie’s abode. As a tagger, she gave me a room at the very end which in those days I believe was the utility. She didn’t inform me earlier that we are moving off from Joo Chiat Road, till very late and when I found myself there, she told me that her whole family is going back to Penang for Chinese New Year leaving her 3rd daughter Janice who works as an assistant manager at a fast food restaurant alone with me.


If my memory serves me right, I couldn’t leave because exams was drawing near and I was catching up on some late assignments I think. Janice is today Dennis by the way after having a legalised sex changed operation in Singapore. So all’s good as I remembered the new bus route I needed to take , and carried on my routine as usual. (My routine also includes my daily diversion to Orchard Road to meet my outside friends. Rich spoilt kids but really a few of the most endearing people I have ever met).


On the first night, I found myself alone after unlocking the gate, then the main door and back to my tiny ‘cell’. I cleaned myself up and rested on the lower deck of the double decker bed provided me, with my right side of my face exactly facing the room door. Right where my toes are is one wardrobe with its side facing me and another wardrobe facing it which is the wall of the entrance where the room sits. Thus where my torso was till my legs, there was a retro sideboard with a low table top and a large mirror. Very fashionable in those days. There I placed my talcum powder, comb, hair gel, etc. My needs were simple. As I was about to catch forty winks, I could hear the main door of the house open, then closes. By the way, between my room and the main door which is the family cum living area sat the air well and the bath stall we use with a separate water closet. But all’s good as I was expecting my cousin to be home. I could hear the footsteps walking in , but instead of stopping where her bedroom was, the steps came in nearer and nearer. She must be wanting to use the bathroom I thought but the footsteps walked right through into my room! without even opening the door! I was tensed up for a moment as the steps walked to the sideboard , and I could feel the presence of someone fiddling with my things because of the sound it made. I dare not open my eyes then because I remembered my bedroom door was a latched type kind where there was no lever on the outside!


My mind was racing and I closed my eyes tightly but caught myself fiddling with the blanket provided me with my toes which is at the far end of the bed. When my hands could grab it, I covered myself with it and hid under. And I was sweating profusely not because of the warmth the blanket could bring ! I was hoping for the sound to end and whoever that is to go away . It did finally, but not until I was chanting the usual ‘Amithaba’ that all Buddhist were taught of, which is a form of protection. Whilst chanting, my mind envisions a room full of strange, very distorted furnitures almost like an attic. Not long after that scene ended, in my mind, I could only see darkness. Then a door of light opens up shining brightly, then did the whole experience normalize by itself.


I shared this with my cousin the next morning and she was also taken aback . We agreed to a time and waited for each other at the bus stop before we walked back together each evening for about a week or so, taking turns to stake out as we bath.


Many years later, as I sat back with my cousins reminiscing the old days, one cousin who used to lived there with her parents recounted one moment whilst their family was at the living watching tv , her adopted brother ( hardly 5 yrs old I think) came in to tell them that there was an old lady with long hair all white waving for him to come. That happened at the air well.


I’m sorry I don’t have a photo of that premise.



True Love

True love rejoices in truth; in being honest, and transparent; whereas fake love hides in the darkness of lies

True love makes sacrifices; whereas fake love is only selfish upon themselves

True love lasts forever, unlike physical needs or material existence; whereas fake love dies, when it is only after the flesh

True love grows, and inspires you to be a better person; whereas fake love loves fighting and heated arguments, doesn’t know how to resolve problems calmly, and destroys your good life

True love loves you and loves itself, it looks after its own health and well being, so that you could have a stronger relationship; whereas fake love hates itself, giving you more undeserving pains and problems

True love acts with trembling, not only talks but act with passion, excitement and energy; whereas fake love is nonchalant, never cares, and always give excuses instead of fulfilling promises

True love is hopeful, include you into their future plans, and never give up fighting for you; whereas fake love easily gives up, has no permanent plan for your relationship, and doesn’t treat you as important

True love is faithful, dependable and believes in you despite your shortcoming; whereas fake love is unbelieving, until they are 100% sure of you

True love is loyal, displays strong commitment, and will never cheat on you; whereas fake love is a cheater

True love trusts, and have confidence in your actions, they think positively; whereas fake love doubts, and only harbors negativity about you

True love knows and makes effort to know and understand you, so they could love you better, can read your mind and feel your emotions; whereas fake love just doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand what’s going on with you, and doesn’t care about your thoughts and feelings

True love is wise, mature, and righteous; whereas fake love is foolish, childish, inconsiderate, reckless and narrow minded

True love may be painful, but it protects you and shields you from anything that will hinder growth; whereas fake love hurts, it only gives you momentous satisfaction, it is toxic

True love is honorable, respectful of your opinions, and ambition; whereas fake love is rude, arrogant, and disregards your self worth

True love is joyful, happy, and likes to see others happy; whereas fake love is bitter, filled with negativity, and holds grudges

True love is grateful, thankful and blessed when you are around, and appreciates everything you gave; whereas fake love is envious, feels you are unlucky, and jealous of your possessions

True love feels fulfilled; whereas fake love always feels empty, greedy, and unsatisfied

True love is humble, admits to mistakes, and takes the blame unto himself; whereas fake love is proud, boastful, a credit grabber, and never admit to mistakes

True love is patient, enduring, and forgiving; whereas fake love is easily angered, quick to judge, and punishes you without mercy

True love is kind to you, generous, and compassionate; whereas fake love is cruel, gives you pain and treats you badly

(Author Unknown)

Strange Occurrences

This event happened many years ago when I was just backed from Singapore. Around 1987-1988?

It was late, around 1am in the morning and I was still sitting on my table doing drawings for my clients due to dateline. I was in the middle hall, with a doorway which opens to a bedroom on the left and a staircase to the right before one gets to the large living hall, then the driveway, then the gate and then, the road. The table I used to work on was oriented to face the front of this large semi detached house inside the hall with louvre windows flanking the entire length of the left wall. I was basically doing sketches when a flash of very bright lights zoom passed me across my left. I looked to the side, then looked down again, little did I pay heed. After a short while, I thought I heard a sound similar to a large iron ball rolling on the parquet flooring upstairs and because it is overhead of where I sat meaning upstairs I thought to myself that it could be a rat running across. But then the sound went diagonally from the other corner of the hall where I sat, and it rolled diagonally to the back of the hall, my behind. I didn’t quite pay heed because on my desk is a project screaming to be completed. The next minute, at the very same end, again that object rolled from behind me and went back to the same spot it first came from. On the ceiling. I didn’t think much about it but I knew it was kind of unusual and because it was late, I didn’t want to scare myself so I got up, and hurried upstairs to sleep.

At that time, living in this house was just my mom, my brother, my Ji Ku (2nd uncle), Devi, our maid and me. I was given the last room where my Tua Ku uses but he had passed away. Above the hall where I sat is another hall, then does it reaches my back room. I took a quick glanced at that space where I heard the sound from. But there was, just sitting there, a tall brass bed my grandma uses and some old furnitures. Nothing else. I went to sleep. This house actually belongs to my grandma. But not long after she passed on, the siblings agreed to sell it because business wasn’t doing well.


And for those who doesn’t believe in phenomenas such as this, that was quite an experience. And, it is also an unlucky house. For those who knew, that house took away two lives, my maternal grandma’s, and my Tua Ku’s ( mom’s brother), and apart from that, my granduncle’s first and second wife, though they don’t live together, all, a year apart from each other. So for four years in a row, imagine we were all wearing black. For four years, we didn’t celebrate Chinese New Year.

Mom and my 2nd auntie used to be firm believers in mediums etc and because of the string of bad luck inflicting everyone, they were told by one medium that there is something which my grandma kept which should be appropriately, in spiritual terms, sent off. So the house was bustling as they were ransacking grandma’s possessions. Grandma kept a lot of things since pre war days so the house in s way do look like an attic. And guess what they found stashed below her four poster bed? A deity (Jepun Hood) which she has not worshipped for years! Whether that was the spirit living inside the house that was disturbing everyone because of neglect, we will never know.


Long after we vacated this place, I asked my mom how did she end up in the room downstairs when she has her own, preferring to share a room with our maid? Because I noticed that , maybe six months before we moved out , but didn’t want to ask her earlier. She was older and I also thought it cumbersome for someone older to want to climb stairs. Only then did she relate to me that there was once she saw a big black genie choking her. And she got frightened. My younger brother, who was once occupying the front room facing the road, then joined in and told us he was once also strangled by a huge black genie. Whether or not it is the same black genie or not, that I can’t be sure. I did t get to see it. He also told us that at one time, in the middle of the night, he thought he heard a sound of chains dragging on the tar road outside so he got up to inspect it. Lo and Behold! he saw the two Chinese Guardian of Hades, the cow head and the horse face strapping and pulling a man across the road!


One day, I chanced upon our maid. She still oases by that house everyday because of her work commitment. She told me the night after we left, our neighbors whom she met told her they saw flashes of lights being switched on and off and the sound of what seems to be a legion of people shouting and screaming at each other. Obviously my neighbors could see everything because we share a common chain link fence.

The day when I found out that mom decided to move off from this place, I made a decision to go on my own, at the age of 24? and rented a small cubicle with its own entrance from a man whom much later became my faithful client because he generously offered me the job of designing his home where I stayed and he owns. Thus, from landlord, we too became friends after that. He told me his sister was fascinated with what I designed for him and asked if she could copy the design? So generously I said yes! without even asking for a gratuity or even asked him the location of his sisters house (although that design would have looked better with a slope access like his).

Time passes by and probably about six years later? , I went avisiting my landlord at his shop located at Chowrasta. The conversation went on and he popped the question as to where I was living before I moved into his place? He was completely overwhelmed as our conversation went one full circle to reach the doorstep of where this whole story arises, which is his sister’s home! Previously our home! (He is a Pakistani Muslim by the way)And I was relating to him this same story and experiences without realizing his sister is now occupying that house!


He told me his sister bought it and since then, together with the husband, they are facing financial difficulties as business is not moving as fast as it should etc etc. He told me his sister also had similar encounters but hers was different . She felt the presence of someone always following her each time she climbs up or alight from the stairs. At first she didn’t want to alert her hubby but feeling the need to engage an Imam to reconsecrate the home which they actually did before moving in, she then told him. The imam once again got the home re-blessed and recommended them to hang holy scriptures all over which they did! But still, that thing did not stop. They then tried the bomohs as a last resort. That didn’t work also. The uncanny thing is, his sisters family is still living there today.


A few years back when I returned to Penang and had to bypass this road, for memories sake, I had this picture taken. This was the place with the encounters.


But the story hasn’t ended.


Three to four years back, I stumbled upon my neighbor’s son who once lived next door to us. Although we don’t talk much those days and we were quite young, me around 23-24 and he was my junior, as a courtesy talk, I asked him how he and his family is, and reminiscing the old times. He told me, just what our former maid told us. He also told me of the many unrest in their house starting with his grandfather’s death and how their business empire fell. And their whole family broke up. He told me he had the house checked at the land office and through the records, there was an old (khu khar lau) bungalow on stilts that stood where the row of eight semi detached house were built on. His family also went to consult a Chinese medium who is also a seer who told them the developer did not perform the rites to appease the spirits that the land was sitting on because it was infested with many killings during the Japanese occupation period.


But the house still remains until this day, unperturbed , and oddly, as I thought to myself, why didn’t my former landlord’s sister moved out? The plague in front of the house is still there so I assumed they are still residing inside.

Today that property would have cost rm2mil because it has a vast backyard. We sold it for rm350k then.

But then again, for us in the know, who would want it?


Queer Normalcy

“The MCO is almost over. And life will soon be back to pretty normal. Like we didn’t learn a thing or two about intimacy or the lack thereof. I am overwhelmed to be able to piece all the loose ends together and set out to do things city life could not afford for the longest of time and for the life of me. I see happy faces, and sad psychiatric patterns forming in some people that I know. I see that men could thrive in smaller congested spaces.

But has men not learnt anything from it other than gazing into blank walls or scrutinizing insects and faulty lock sets in greater detail? Have we outlived our families and yearn for the mortal cagelessness? Or are we mortified by the revetments plaguing our lonelier nights?

Will digitizing help men whom are truly social creatures to sustain their liveability rather than wrecking their puny skulls and be more creative than just abuse a tool which had been there for decades and serves a purpose to only things that doesn’t need oral assessment? Have we lived the entire quarantine in anticipation of our queer normalcy?

Did we not learn something from it?

The streets are now screaming for a change of pace, and a change in how our lives operate. Not succumbing back to traffic jams, and be proud of the everyday reporting. And how about the groupings that many wanted to form but now evaporates into thinner air? Whereforth thou is men’s conviction rather than unto themselves that others need to suffer in their hands?

I wilt as a single leaf on a tree that thrives only with sun and rain but knows not what pruning will maketh a healthier more desirable growth. I crave to wake up not in suspense but to be confronted by our inner yearnings for truth, but not deceit. We need to recalibrate. We have to. For whatever normalcy means.”