what a lovely way to burn. 



the world behind will always be lost on us

Have u made it? doing it until u can, just like u said u would? or are u just like me, hugging the occasional despair unmeant as u drift off to sleep.

u must imagine your sadness to land silent like pin drop on drugget or at best a crisp dead leaf on the quiet face of the sea. but u have been noticed, now cared for, your needle picked up by the shallow of these words, softly wrapped up in warm sheets. (is this why i find warmth even in your despair?) now don’t kick the duvet off. Good night, good night

stargazing in the park however this poor eyesight can manage (forgot my glasses). ive observed that there are stars only the peripheral vision would allow the eyes to see, then when u turn to focus they vanish. strange

strange delight

It is my birthday, inasmuch though i am not in the habit of ever celebrating it (because what is there to celebrate really) but still bother to treat myself to a good bowl of soup, i will allow some indulgence of equal measure that is spending an hour to look at this little life. The past 11 years felt like an unending trajectory


In january of this year i had written this:

it feels alright, not having finished high school, no inheritance, not a love to count on, heavily peppered white shoes from no path but the dirt path, and should god rain down a mighty spit on this messy hair. u wake up, empty-handed, glad and small. some days (today) u want to be anything but. because the forces¿ have been relatively kind, the stupit winds slap me and i force me to be kinder too. some days (today) i want to say.. two paths diverge in a wood and u can laugh at mine but i am going to sleep on yours

(quite distracted after watching a very affecting film, and now at a bar playing Low by Flo Rida so forgive me)

(am in the habit of (a) being disinclined to overt introspection, and (b) not using ‘i’ as much as possible because it makes me feel vain. but forgive me)

Unabridged: i have this stupid habit of disallowing any form of outright negative talk/feelings remain in my written space. Always wind up deleted off the pages. It is so dumb, i need to talk and be honest, good or bad. (afterthought: wonder if i actually managed to have written off any bad feeling that way. i dont keep track hmm. will i ever know? like tearing up sad photographs before tossing them into crackling bonfire?) Used to think that if i didn’t write about the bad, then they didn’t exist… not as officially anyway. The above wasn’t a momentary passage of thoughts, but i easily wrote that in 2 minutes in a moment of clarity an evening post-heartbreak that sent me spiralling. I used to be really okay in my shoes. Then came a brief time by and by where i looked around, and looked into the ramifications that never fail to find me despite considering the pathos and unreasonable favour i have found in the eyes of people, abruptly wishing i had it better. Of course i have always been the main culprit behind my failings, and of course everything that i wrote i was alright with were as polarisingly not-alright as u can imagine. And yes of course it looks silly now

I must not take for granted the good things these lousy years have left me with. I have learnt that i am lucky to have a highly lacking but functional instrument of a head that helps me process great lengths of grief and pain without anxiety. I am lucky that the devastating deaths i had to confront as a child now sit steady on a comfy sofa in my heart and photograph in my wallet’s sleeve and they will never go away. You can write a book and the pages will burn. I am lucky this grief is my light, I couldn’t ask for better. I am corporeally lucky for ears and eyes and short legs, for all the music and books and films and flowers and long walks that are my best friends without which i would surely die. I have learnt to apply sunscreen and drink enough water so i dont have to fear constipation and bad skin that had me stuck on pills for ages. I am lucky to be patient. I am lucky to possess a forehead wide as the pacific ocean. I am lucky to navigate languid. I am lucky to have never spent money at the hairdresser’s because one night i cutely concluded that i was good enough. I have a thick head of hair and never close to worrying about male balding patterns, I am lucky. I am lucky to feel empathy. I am lucky to love veggies because they are very delicious. I am so so lucky for busan and family there. I am lucky for all the years of convincing myself that childlikeness (some say naïveté) is a virtue to fiercely protect or else i’d surely be the first to lose it, so moments after i surrendered the discourse and shrugged the virtue loose it came stubbornly back to me like the sum of every tooth fairies’ treasury under my pillow one morning. I am lucky to never have to try because one glance and do people try. I am lucky that for all the wasted years of suppressing a specific anger that would not diminish, i can safely say there is no more room for anger left in me, though for one last time i’d love to finish with a very sincere fuck u, old man. I am lucky i don’t live a lot in my own head anymore. I am lucky good things still pursue me though i never deserve. I am lucky to still have the heart to love and, god willing, to be loved back. Absurd. I am lucky for the nuzzles and kisses. This greed is part entitled but also wholly honesty and desire. I am lucky for exalted intimacy that make my vital organ beat like a jungle drum and i don’t mean the kidneys.. I don’t want to become a sad adult who walks backwards. Please look upon this terrible twenties with mercy. I am lucky for sticking it out, because god knows how painful a little life it has been.

your face is smooth and sweet. it is smooth like a hill in the desert; sweet like honey and the moon. your frown is exquisite, but not rare. there are no traces of its frequencies but u wear it like a familiar friend. your face is pretty and kind. much to your disbelief and my conviction, so pretty, so kind. it is kind like a warm glow that i constantly want to look at, but afraid that it would illuminate the countless flaws of my very own countenance. sweet like the faint bit of nectar in the heart of ixoras, the one i love yet afraid that i will be allowed a taste of but only once. your face is warm, and makes my heart swell with ache.

Flowers for your bully

I ponder the agony of zeitgeist (when the past is your absolution). Sanguinity, comes with accepting the impossibility of denial anymore, then acknowledgement that inside is a heart highly susceptible to equal parts love and fury, a quality hardly a guise but instead a choice. I debate the conflict of inability to tolerate the reality of family yet with shameful irony carry around an innate desire to propagate the nostalgia of love and kindness. Many a time i wonder if the less-than-natural reflex in choosing to smile at the life i cannot choose would make me less of a candidate in the eyes of others. As it turns out i smile a lot more than i think i do and pocket the tantrums i cannot throw. I worry if when my words don’t come together that people won’t read between the lines. These days i keep busy being a waitress and also a sappy mess (don’t read my diary, u’re in every line). I don’t fight needlessly anymore


Beam me up! I love the moon like the optimistic bend of your eyes. If you squint your eyes enough, they slice the moon up against the night.

If you wake up to find your fingers stained gold, don’t point me to the sun. I love the sun only for the moon. I hate the sun. Run me through the pains of youth, throw me to the panda bear, don’t point me to the sun.

Amblonyx cinerea (Small-clawed Otter)
Dyera costulata (syn. D. laxiflora) (Jelutong)

Elephas maximus hirsutus (Malayan Elephant)
Oncosperma tigilarium (Nibong Palm)

Arctictis binturong (Bearcat)
Dillenia indica (Elephant Apple Tree)

Tragulus kanchil (Lesser Mouse-deer)
Dillenia indica (Elephant Apple Tree)

Panthera tigris jacksoni (Malayan Tiger)
Oncosperma tigilarium (Nibong Palm)

Nycticebus coucang (Sunda Slow Loris)
Dyera costulata (syn. D. laxiflora) (Jelutong)

Pteropus vampyrus (Greater Flying Fox)
Dyera costulata (syn. D. laxiflora) (Jelutong)

Arctogalidia trivirgata (Small-toothed Palm Civet)
Dillenia indica (Elephant Apple Tree)