It's a gay time....!!!!!!!!

Inspired by my very close friend and mentor Justin (not Timberlake hehehe). I've been doing singing lately. And it's only a matter of months, not years, before my single, "Why Am I So Cool?" (from my album "All about me") - hits the Malaysia charts...Last Monday night (while am in Bangsar with friends), a few of my friends and I went to Karaoke World and made magic happen.

As you know, sweetie, there is nothing, with the exception of hip hop dancing and getting my writing in on time, that I can't do exceedingly well. Add karaoke to my list of many talents..We arrived after a long dinner, drinking at the pubs, and most of our party, with the exception of me, was a little tipsy.

We were ushered down a long dark corridor with poster of Japanese pop stars circa 1984 on the walls. Through soundproofed windows, we could see rather drunken businessmen with their ties ripped off mounthing the lyrics to what looked like a bad Queen song. We were given a room with two microphones, a TV with different song options, and a disco ball - which spun at two different speeds.I were rather nervous at first. We made jokes and flicked through the vast song book, which contained everything from Slim Dusty to Slim Shady.

I got the ball rolling with a very moving rendition of Cindy Lauper's "Girls just wanna have fun." Karaoke bring out the diva in all of us. It lets us be gay for the night. And it's okey to like Barbra Streisand at karaoke world. My friend Daniel Darling was up next with a slightly less accomplished, but no less heartfelt, performance of Whitney Houston's "The Greatest love of all." I would have suggested something less ambitious to him, but karaoke gives you wings. In these camp cell - like rooms, it's possible to convince yourself that you're singing in the shower.Karaoke is incredibly liberating - it was a little like rebirthing, in that it gives you a natural high, except I was being reborn as a better - looking Barry Manilow. Even better - you don't need a voice like mine to have fun.

And remember.... in karaoke world, no one can hear you scream.............

Till then sweetie....will see you again in this page soon

Gay man and label......

Kuala Lumpur 2010

I was at the one of Shopping Mall on the weekend recently, I went there with my friends from Down Under – Australia - It’s kind of interesting to see all the shoppers here on the weekend, it comes from all part of our life, either, family with their kids, young couples, singles and loner as well in the group, either bunch of guys or girls walking around in the Shopping Malls and some of them walking around, either with or with-out shopping bag in their hand.

I notice, some of them carrying cheap plastic (it says ‘sale’) shopping bags and some carrying those expensive shopping bags with those big labels on it. Of course I am not surprised when I notice very clearly that most expensive shopping bags with their big label name are nicely and carefully carry in the hand of gay mans.

While we sit-down and watching peoples around and have a chat-over-the-coffee, I asked my buddy, Why are there becomes a garment label? And I keep wonder.

Does anyone ever wonder (apart from me) why there is such an obsession with labels in our society, and in particular the labels on clothes?

I am constantly bemused by shallow little queens trying to outdo each other and themselves, to spend a queen’s ransom on some new piece of clothing that has some trendy label on it. If what I read is true, then it doesn’t really mean much as most big brand labeled clothes (particularly men’s designer underwear) are spewed out of the same mass production facilities in China. Most clothing is produced in China, but I guess there would not be flocks of desperate flocking to department stores on ‘mega sale’ to buy cheap CALVIN CHONG.

What are the mysteries behind these labels and why do they mean so much? The designer labels say to the whole world “Look at me wearing the expensive brand, I am happy, rich and well adjusted etc.” It is the same with people incessantly smsing and fidding with their mobiles – that action says look at me I am important because I have to go to my locker-room every 15 minutes at the gym to check who has text me with latest FTSE100 update. We know better all of the above say. “I am a loser who needs props to make me look as though I am not a tragic little nothing.”

Here are some little notes for you. People who flamboyantly expose labels of underwear are generally doing so because there is nothing else worth noting below the waist. People (mainly men) who drive fast, hard and loud usually have a problem with erections. Those who wear ostentatious expensive labels on the outside have serious self image problems and a reloaded with emotional baggage. World travelers who excite themselves recounting endless tales of wonderment about their perilous and expensive adventures are generally bored off their tits (and those of others). Middle aged men who wax on about sexual conquests and young men wanting them are in serious denial and fear of growing old (except me of course – in which case it’s true).

So my tip for life: be yourself. You don’t need all that stuff to make you special. Be honest to yourself and the rest will all follow naturally. But my very BEST tip is this: A smile can take you to places that money and gadgets can’t. Generally being nice to people (and yourself), is far more likely to win you friends and sexual conquests, than all that expensive crap.


Till then,

Monday Blues.......

I couldn't sleep. As I lay on top of this crisp, cold white sheets of this king-size bed, my mind raced faster than a horse at the race course. My body felt numb, tension knotted my stomach, and knowing I only had a fifteen sleeps to ge before I going home....

I felt an extraordinary mix of anger, anxiety, and envy. I was angry that I had fallen in love with someone that I not even knew, anxiety that I have not other choice but to leave him cos I not even know him yet!!!. I felt envy at my brother and my sister, who didn't have to suffer such betrayal.

After more then decade's of absence, those "I wish I wasn't gay." feeling had returned. And my heart plummeted when I felt that because I was a gay, love always be a temporary things. For the first times in decade's I felt very lonely, sad and very alone in this cruel world.....

I felt even more sadness because I was alone with grief for my late father, my late mother and missed them so badly. During times like this I hated being alone and missed Angus more then ever. Angus's would have understand and made me laugh about it. I could hear Angus saying something like : "Chirl, men aren't good for nothing, but slanging dick and some of them, can't even do that right! Move on....."

But now there was no one I felt I could tell. There was no one to understand my pain. I wanted to tell Angus, but wonder how he would feel especially after I ended our long years of our beautiful relationships

Then I felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe I had done something to deserve an unfaithful lover..

I try to think of someone I had mistreated. For a few minutes I couldn't think of anyone.....

Then William Jones's come into focus, his image was strong and vivid, like he was standing in the room, staring at me with a lustful gaze. But I hadn't mistreated William, sure. I had treated him with a certain in different, but, I hadn't been mean. I rationalized that my treatment of William was to protect myself.

I was so proud to myself for not falling in love with William. During my brief affair with him, I knew that when he set his mind on someone, he was dangerous to any relationship. Especially, I just thinking of coming back to Malaysia and just end my 11 years relationship with Angus. During the times like that, what I want is to chill out myself and being alone in some Islands.........

Well, it was just my silly thought on my thinking and try to pack my stuffs, and what my plan is, when am arrive Kuala Lumpur.....

Till then, have a lovely nite and sleep well....

Paris - city of love & romances

Paris - 2002

This room don’t really have a bedside table, this the room that I am going to have for the next three weeks, only enough for double size of bed, and study table for my laptop, with small telly round the corner of the room. So I only had a bedside basket that I bought from downtown Paris. It’s a hill-tribe basket that women carry on their backs. It’s cylindrical, about a metre tall, and it narrows at the top, so my books stack up and then fall off. Then they hide under the bed.

At the moment am reading simultaneously Michelle de Krestser’s The Hamilton Case and Rusty Young’s Marching Powder.

De Krestser sets her family saga in Ceylon of the 1930s and her language is so rich and luscious you could eat it. It’s languid pace is in stark contrast to Marching Powder, the story of one prisoner’s cocaine fuelled experience in Bolivia’s notorious San Pedro Prison, in La Paz.

I read in bed most nights, as always. It’s so comforting and womb-like. I particularly like it when there are no crumbs in the sheets. How long I read for depends on where I read, how much I’ve drunk before, during and after dinner. Sometimes I can do a good half – hour in the café, but sadly I have been known to watching people’s passing by with the novel still propped up in my hands. I supposed, I am still good when I read my novel in bed especially when I am alone.

So here I am, in this beautiful city that full of romances (that what they says) and am alone in this room.... Let me shared this one with you here..... (please don't says it's about dating again!)

If there was a tipping point with internet dating, it happened mid-decade. The shift was stunning. Online dating moved from cyberspace badlands occupied by desperados who couldn't buy a date in a brothel, to something growing numbers of single people (and some naughty attached people) do as a matter of course.

Few couples I knew, is no longer bother about lying that they met online. Why should they? The whole thing is so mainstream as to be banal. To meet in "real life" is becoming exotic.

Instead, this new sober, efficient approach to mating is attracting people in their millions: Fairfax-owned internet dating site Manjam.com, gay.com, fridae.com (to name a few) boasts on its home page million REAL singles and 1000 joining everyday.

Young people aged 18 to 24 are looking online in big numbers. The internet is no longer a place of last resort, but a place to start the search.

This critical mass has important implications not only for how we meet, but for how relationships are conducted.

Internet dating feels so much like shopping for a mate that it can't help but lend the pursuit of finding a partner a transactional vibe. Its terminology - browsing, surfing and box-ticking to ensure a correct match - is a far cry from "old-style" romance built on the language of chance encounters, romance, serendipity, sparks, eros and chemistry.

That online dating essentially involves looking through a massive catalogue of people that you whittle down by typing keywords into a search engine seems as distant from notions of "romance" as you can get.

The era of choice, choice, choice is a hangover from the Long Boom where more was considered better.

But I'd rather websites boasting "eight REAL singles" to make selection easier, make my expectations more realistic and less inclined to seek perfection.

The large volume of people available at the click of a mouse means it can be easier to discard a relationship that isn't working, because of a sense of abundance and possibility. Easy come, easy go. It may mean we do not stick at relationships as long as we should.

One popular website is called gay.com, which pretty much sums it up.

Another effect is more insidious: the reduction of eros in public space. You know: flirting, cracking on, loaded glances - all the mating calls we send out. With online dating at critical mass, it now acts as a catch-all clearing house "where you go for a partner".

As singles outsource their love lives to dating sites, they are less likely to be looking for a mate in the real world, dampening the signals that we almost intuitively send out like sonar. This "off-line" desexualisation is evident everywhere, from parties to pubs.

Nights at the pub can now be spent relaxing with mates rather than throwing looks at the bloke in the corner table or getting up the courage to approach the handsome stranger at the bar.

I tried internet dating two years ago. I was on holiday visiting my friend in Paris - and, in retrospect, going through a bit of a low patch.

Snowdrifts built up outside my window in a city where I had little money and few friends. That I spent much of the time wondering what language I should be speaking was a precursor to my retreat into cyberspace.

The internet gave me the illusion of connection and community so lacking in my "real life".

I would browse for two or four hours at a stretch. With high-speed broadband, I whipped through more men than I'd physically met in years. Him, him, him or him?

A flurry of beards, beanies, bald spots, those light-rimmed spectacles favoured by architects. They blurred into one. They all liked the same thing: travel, beaches at sunset, movies.

A lot them sounded like timid virgins. "I've never done this before," they wrote.

In turn, you could describe yourself but it always had the elusiveness of a hologram.

Things that can be intuited when meeting in real life were absent from the scrubbed-up profiles and sanitised pictures on the dating sites.

That this has led to a profitable business in drafting people's profiles and another touching up profile pictures is in the consumer spirit of internet dating.

Logging off I felt fretful, like I'd left a cyberspace version of myself alone on the edge of a bar floor - vulnerable somehow, unguarded.

I knew I would be subject to the same nanosecond appraisal that I had cast over thousand men a night - and that I would be found wanting, in two different senses of the word.

I left Paris and deleted my profile.

If there is a person unluckier in love than I am, I'd like to meet them.

But I'd rather be unlucky in love in the real world, taking chances, risks, trusting the randomness of life and the mysterious alchemy of serendipity than favour the clinical approach favoured by million REAL singles! casting a cool eye over photos and blurbs, shopping for a mate.


Till then, catch you soon with some more......

Have a lovely day.....

Blue eyes.... - beautiful stranger -

It has been two weeks……

His blue eyes met my eyes…….

I fell into his blue eyes

A swirling mystical blue at my pool

Going under its waves

Waiting to discover

What I yearn for each time I resurface

From the current

My heart beats faster

In chorus

With the rhythm of the waves

Coming over me

The water swirls all around me

Pulling me in so rapidly

I try to hold my breathe

But at last I have fallen in love with the blue-eyed hunk at my pool….

Beautiful stranger at the pool………………

Why am I still single? Here is the reason....

I am single by choice. Sure, it's my second choice, but it's not like I don't have some say in it. And on the few occasions I lament the absence of significant other in my life, everyone else in the room seems to think they can have a say in it as well. From close friends to complete nobodies, everyone has a theory as to why I haven't got a partner. Essentially they're telling me it's my own fault. And you know what? They're wrong. This is what these junior psychoanalysts have to say:

I WANT A PARTNER - I want a relationship, and that's no way to go into a relationship. No, I hate the idea of commitment and regular sex, as well that I hate the idea of finding a men and go through a date and end - up they telling me that they 're not "out" yet at the age of fourty five. So I told people I want a brand new five series BMW, and I am planning to work hard to get it, and they'll praise me. Tell the same people that I am planning on working hard to get a partner and the nicer ones will laugh at me. Do they really think I value a brand new BMW over love? Or are they hoping for a lift?

I AM LOOKING FOR IT - Apparently all I need to find the men of my dream is to stay home every friday night, with my eyes closed, and turn off my mobile. People love to say it'll happen when I am not looking for it, but if I am not looking for it how will they recognise it?

I AM NOT IN THE RIGHT PLACE - I am living in South Yarra area, for God's sake!! What better place than that? The supposition that you have all your affairs in order - financially, emotionally, physically - before you can have someone in your life means you're going to be single forever. What they're really saying is they wouldn't date me at this point in my life. I probably don't have enough money yet, but what's wrong with growing and learning and making mistakes while I am with someone? May be they can't walk and chew gum, but most of us can do two things at once.

I DON'T REALLY WANT ONE - This is usually spat out by friends who are already in the relationships. Boyfriends are too much trouble and I am better off without someone says this to me, I am going to snap back: "Really? then dump yours."

I AM TOO SELECTIVE - This is usually from a friend trying to set me up with the 59 - year- old obese men who works in the cubicle next to him at the call centre. He's single, I am single, seem like the perfect solution to them. Or the other guy who want me to have relationship with spunky fourty year old banker and hasn't out and will never admit himself as a gay men. The next time someone tells me I am too selective, I'll remind them, they should be grateful their other half wasn't.

I ALWAYS GO TO THE WRONG PLACES - That is, I am going to a club where all the mens are predominantly and behaving like screaming queen. And I won't date them, but I am not stupid enough to believe I am going to meet my Mr. Right at Borders book store, while both of us reaching for the last remaining copy of Cosmopolitan. Life isn't a Meg Ryan flick, and the next time they tell me this "I'll ask them exactly where it is I should be going. Men hunting isn't an exact science. I am simply playing the numbers game.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT - No, they don't know what I want and they're trying to get themselves off the hook for not being any help in finding it for me. Nobody knows exactly who it is that's going to complement them. That's why we go on dates in the first place. Alternately, if I have the idea of what I want, I am accused of being too selective. Dammed if I do, dammed if I don't.

Well, fuck'em. I am trying my best and there's nothing wrong with wanting it. It doesn't make me a lesser human being to want someone to love and be loved by in return. I don't need the bullshit theories. I don't need the patronising banter from those who are bored with their own excuses.

I need a little luck, a little optimism and a little good timing. Because the real reason I am still single, the reason even I hate to admit, is I am simply haven't met him yet. I know it's there for me too, some place. He's out there somewhere, I know he is, he's born, I know that much. And if I start to believe what my friends are telling me, I never will.


Till then, time to pamper myself with SPA's and massage..... Anyway, it's sunday and I should make used of it......

Enjoy your weekend.............

Modern life and internet date

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Suddenly Single.......

Melbourne 2001

Late at night when everyone is dreaming, I am lying in bed, just wondering….. Looking at the star as they shine and blink, they’re so beautiful, and it’s so amazing.

I can feel the coldness coming from outside, just like the way I am feeling deep inside. I turn to look at my side, it was you, resting! It made me ponder, how happy I am lying here in my bed next to you……

You are a falling star in the starry night, you’re the moon, when needed some light. You were the image, when I lose my sight. You’re my armour, you are my knight…….

Holding you close in my arms, for you have only another chance, tomorrow will be a different story, so catch your last glance……

Wake up sleeping Beauty, and dance out our last dance…… you will be gone by tomorrow, back to where you belong. The sweet memories we had. Bear in mind that you will be in my heart forever………………….

Memory of Scott...... May you find happiness that you looking for.... Bless

The guy at the deli grins knowing at me as I park my basket of groceries on the counter.

"Wow" He exclaims, eyeing my fillet steak, fresh mushroom, strawberry and couple of bottle of red wine.

"Look like some lucky girl is in for a special evening!"

"Why does there have to be a women involved, just because I am cooking something nice? Single men don't always live on ready meal you know!"

"Umm, sorry, didn't mean to cause any offence." the poor guy backs away nervously, filling me with guilt.

"No, please, I am the one who should apologise," I mumble, feeling terrible for biting his head of like that.

Ok, so I shouldn't have been so pricky but talk about hitting a raw nerve!

The truth is, I have been living on ready meals for the past week, ever since Scott left and going back to England.

I only brought all this stuff because I read that the best way to get over loneliness or break-up (Scott's decided that he have to go back to England to help his parents after 4 long lovely years with me) is to pamper yourself. And I really need pampering right now.

The second misunderstanding of the day comes from my new neighbour, Mateo (the Italian bloke). He greets me with a friendly wave as I plod up the stairs to my unit.

"You look great George." he says warmly.

I feel, all at once, deeply grateful and horribly depressed. Grateful because I certainly need to hear a compliment from a men. And depress because well, it makes my heart sink to be complimented by the wrong men.

I want to hear: "You look great George", but not from Mateo. I want to hear it from Scott or the gorgeous guy I bumped into at the supermarket yesterday, he was gorgeous, tall and Gosh!! with his eyes looking straights to meet my eyes and the cheeky smile he gave me.... " I was stunt and frozen.....

Anyway that not going to happen because, first of all, Scott's has gone a week ago, and the stranger at the supermarket might think that I am a married men because I am walking hand in hand with Ailan at that time...

I has been thinking of Scott and the beautiful stranger all night long, just as much as the day I drove home from the airport and from the supermarket. I don't want to hear compliment from other man, especially from man who, by their very existence, are committing the unforgivable crime of "not being gorgeous."

"Great haircut!" Mateo's chimes in. "Going somewhere glamorous tonight?"

Why is everyone interested in my social life today? Can't I have a new hairstyle or a nice meal without everyone demanding an explanation?

"I, er, should be going," I buster backing towards the door and hurrying to inside, and as his foot steps echo into distance, I feel an exhilarating rush of satisfaction sharp over me.

I didn't do it to make him like me, well not exactly. I did it for me. Because suddenly I can see myself the way they gorgeous guy at the supermarket saw me.

Not a heartbroken, abandoned romantic reject, but a single independent men with things to do, date to prepare for, a life to get on with. And you know what? I like what I saw.......

Till then, will share with you next - my dating experience- don't go anywhere yet!! Will be back soon.....

Life start at 40........ (that what everyone said) part II

So, you might thinks that am always whinge all the time eh! Honestly speaking not always, only sometimes, you know sometimes when thing when wrong. Plus the fact is, it's my birthday week, sometimes, my mood changed just like Melbourne weather, which could be four bloody season a day.....

It's Saturday night and I can’t help but get excited over the possible encounters and good times ahead – and by my six glasses of wine, those optimistic plan of an early night seem very far way indeed. After all, It’s my Birthday week, and am still feeling young and healthy and the world is waiting! (By this stage, my friends are urging me to drink more water instead of another glass of wine, however I will not be deterred!) Besides, don’t we all work hard enough during the week to deserve one night of the week on which our only concern is what drinks to order next?

Having spent significantly more time with my gay friends lately, I can’t help but be fascinated by the complexity of their sex, dating and relationship lives. Some are looking for great love, all are looking for great sex and, while discussing the latest ups and downs of our lives, I had to pose the question – “What exactly do boys wants?”

On this particular evening I wanted sex, correction, great sex! However, my hedonistic ambitions were somewhat restricted by an influence we are all too well aware of – Gay attitude. That’s right people- I am as shocked as you are by the realization that there are some bitchy gay people out there.

The first sign that the night was taking a sour turn was probably when two guys I thought were checking me out were actually attempting to steal my mobile phone. This was followed by aggressive and uninvited fashion advice from this creature in a tracksuit, and evil stares from an intimidating group of young gay guys once I did find my guy for the night.

Traditionally, the term ’gay’ was used to represent happiness adopted by the gay movement as a symbol of pride and defiance. However, in a rapidly materializing, scene, is the term “pretentious” becoming more appropriate to represent a large portion of gay youth, a culture of bitchiness having slowly evolved over time? The answer to this question is endless.

Maybe pretentiousness and bitchiness are not sold separately to liberation and self-expression, cornerstones of the movement, gay life and culture. However, it would be unwise to use the insecurities of some to describe a whole community. And on closer inspection, some degree of these superficial elements may be evident in all of us.

I say – It’s my Birthday, let’s get some fun, brotherly instead of bitchy, generous and gay in its pure sense – just happy….. (and I am not drunk!)

Till then, hope to hear from you soon, tell me more and more and then some.....

Life start at 40........ (that what everyone said)

"There are times in everyone's lives where they are faced with tough choices. And it's at those times where your brain will tell you heaps of reasons why it's OK to do the wrong thing. Things like, 'Everyone was doing it, no one will ever know, its only a bit of fun.' It might only happen a few times in your life, but it's when those voices in your head or your mates in the room say it's OK to do something you know is the wrong thing, is when you will judge yourself for the rest of your life.

I'm proud of you son, I always have been, and always will be. But the best way I know of to be a man is to stand up for the things you believe in, respect others and to always be a gentleman. That's how to be proud of yourself."

"My father once told me that the highest compliment he was ever paid was when a man he admired - a veteran of World War II, a devoted father and a successful breadwinner for his family - called him 'a true gentleman'. The word may mean different things to different people, but to him it denoted a man of inner strength, character, confidence and humility. A man secure enough in himself to not need the approval of the crowd, wise enough to know the difference between right and wrong, and critically, courageous to choose that which is right. A man who understands that the only meaningful ethical standard is one to be maintained even when no one else is watching. I wonder whether it shouldn't be the greatest compliment any of us could hope for. And I would ask him whether, with such a short time on Earth but with the potential to create long memories, if this was the story he would want to write. Finally I would remind him that there is the potential for redemption, but only for those who have earned it, and thus truly deserve it."

Ok, that is the memory I've had about my late father, let get back to my story here..... It's about my birthday and how I felt about it...... and you tell me if you agreed with those who's saying that life's begun at 40!

Well that’s that! Another Birthday has come and gone and as we are left to reflect on the highs and lows, achievement and disappointment, of the previous twelve months, I say hello to my forty seven birthdays recently with open arms and opens hearts.

Fresh from my birthday wishes and resolutions replace last birthday unfulfilled ones (as they light the candles!) and, as am clear my heads from birthday party, hopefully a little insight is gained into what we are happy and content with in our chaotic lives and what needs a little improvement .

Although, a sober moment may be hard to come by between now and the lost of SPQR, been cheat from good friend and been robbed financially at least for me (in the past 10 months).... My forty seven birthdays is all about learning, or at least attempting to learn. I set out on a personal journey of self-discovery (how I’ve had lost friends, or how my friends lost me cos’ I no longer own my SPQR) and hands on experience with my community, or dark a shipload of alcohol and frequented that many bars that now too many people know my name, usually used in the context of, “George, you’ve had enough to drinks!” I can’t say my many old-age questions have all been answered, although I will probably keep on asking the same questions. But I must confess, while relaxing in the afternoon at La Bodega recently, I experienced and overwhelming realization (unrelated to alcohol) that maybe there aren’t any real answers to the question I pose.

I am forty seven-year old gay man living in a material world, (that why, non- of my used to be my good friends remember or text me on my birthday, and surprisingly, those who’s not close to me is the peoples who’s cheers me up on my birthday), living uncertain times, in a year which gay matrimony rocked the World, and disco was officially pronounced dead. No wonder I am confused. I sought guidance from my elders, who were my age in uncertain times also, but I couldn’t seem to find anyone at La Bodega who was interested in giving me a history lesson. I like to think of myself as socially active (although others prefer the term ‘scene queen’) yet sometimes I can’t keep up anymore in a scene which has as many divisions as I have Calvin Klein shirts and underwear.

Scene, non-scene, camp, straight-acting, passive, aggressive, sane, not-so-sane, the list goes on and on…… but I suppose that is the very beauty of diversity and as a great man has advised me in the past, “just take it as it comes George”… and that’s just what I plan to do in my forty seven toward my next birthday.

As a friend of thirty six years prepares to come-out of the closets to his parents, I am preparing to start filling mine with a new step in life, and started my season of life from the bottom ground (wish me luck with the new start as I always wish my friend luck upon his coming out from the closet). Good times with new friends, more memories with old ones, thanks to God, at late forties and I still look fabulous! (don’t quote me on that!) As the sun shines down on KL’s skies. I am going to welcome this new beginning with a nostalgic optimism, as we all should, and promised myself a year of success, health and happiness – for myself, my loved ones (if I ever had one), my friends and my community…

Till then, another birthday story will follow in the next page, maybe later today......

Have a lovely day

WHERE DO I START......

The memories flash before me in a heartbeat. My feeling, my action – other’s action: as they were or as I wish they were everything that happened skips through my thought in a moments.

A kaleidoscope of instant in time whirl before me: images of a wrong guy and glass walls, of refugees and rubber band engines, of headless snakes and dances with devils of Melbourne sex tours: and with him……… Always with him…….. on mine, the montage in my mind seems to linger…

I try to snake it off, I get up make my way to window. The memories blur into introspections of fate. Was there anything else we could have done – I could have done? Was there – is there – a moment of truth, or lie, a cusp, a crossroads, upon which all depended?

Even now, I am torn between wanting a reason and wanting none. Was it fate, or fellow man, that conspired against me? Was I always destined to fail or was I simply beaten by better vision? Perhaps what happened was deliberately designed to shape my character, to prepare myself for new challenges, or maybe it was just to discourage me from such folly in the future?

More than anything, I want to know, just want to know, that is was all beyond my control. I stare at the stars and remember. But my memory is biased and distorted – I do not deny it – a hallucination of truth and lies shaped by the chemical magic of desire, bitterness, pride and pure imagination. I remember events as I want to remember them, as a blended dream of how I saw them or see them now, as I believe or like to believe them. I didn’t even have to be there: for such moments, my mind forgets who I am and presumes the memories of others – my father, my brother, Scott, Angus, and anyone at all involved – interpolating time and circumstance, replacing gaps with hearsay, logic and self-deceit. The memories flash before me in a heartbeat.

I blink and see peoples, places, destiny and tragedy – they all return to me in away that twists and shrinks time to my mind’s own design. For though nothing can change what happened, neither can history influence how I remember it. Remember them..............

And till then, all will begin from here, but not now, not right now... perhaps maybe tonight or tomorrow..........