Food Lovers

I had one that resembles Italian food. Meat, tomato, cheese and mushrooms kiss each other passionately inside a creamy blanket. Too rich, too strong, too much of everything that one bite too many left me bloated, bewildered, almost bulimic. I wish I hadn’t eaten that.

I had one that resembles American fast food. Fat buns with chubby meaty burger, decorated with a limp lettuce and sorry looking pickles. Too cheap, too greasy, too corny, I felt like the fattest girl on the block. Why the hell did I eat that?

I had one that resembles Japanese sashimi. Tastes like a million dollar. But no matter how much I ate, I felt like I hadn’t eaten anything. Too fat-free, too chic, too bland, too empty. Really, I should’ve eaten something else.

I had those that resemble meals from eateries that shouldn’t be allowed to open in the first place because their foods are so bad they’re bordering on poisonous. I must’ve been crazy to even try them.

Then I met you.

A home-cooked meal so wholesome and warm and simply lovely. A delicious simplicity that stand above the zest of hawker foods, or the glamour or world-class cuisines.

It’s like a meal that warmly greets me in the morning.
It’s like a meal that patiently awaits me after a busy day.
It’s the loveliest form of comfort food.
It’s what recharges me.
It’s the kind that makes me feel complete.

Dedicated to you, who handle my psychotic moments like a pro!

tao on sanity

you are demons

you are darkness

your soul is at stake

dissipation is the threat

don't surrender the key

your soul is light
just dissolve

a heartfelt eulogy

I first knew Valentine when I was eleven years old. It was the years when the girls made pink cards for the boys and the boys took the girls to the movie and the girls were as sweet as the syrupy sugary drinks and the boys kissed the girls and the girls giggled and felt like the most beautiful things in the world.

I am sad to say that despite our rosy beginning, Valentine and I had gone estranged over the years. The main reason is because Valentine never changed. She stayed bubbly and cheerful in her pinkish innocence, she kept bouncing in a life filled with froth, thick chocolaty pleasure and soft toys.

Whereas I had witnessed black holes. I had looked directly into the ripped open soul of the devil himself. I had drunk from his cup and I witnessed how cruel human beings could be to one another. I was there when the tree cried. I was there when the wind wept. I was there when hunger corrupted even the most sincere soul.

I found that I am living in a world where everything is for sale, even love. Especially love. Valentine opted to close her eyes and I opted to open mine.
I see coldness in the general's heart.
I see fear in the soldier's eyes.
I see vanity in the pretty people's soul.
I see despair in the ugly ones.
Incompetence rules.
Freedom is for those who can afford or steal it.
Everybody talks too much and much too loud.
Nobody gives a shit.
Everyone's impatient.

Now that Valentine is no longer with us, I begin to see the point behind her fluffy exterior. I begin to see that maybe it wasn't so wrong to close our eyes for a while. Because by closing our eyes, we could live in an alternate reality, a pink coated realm where everything is resolved by sharing a box of chocolate.

Valentine has passed away. But it is not the time for us to grieve. It's the time for us to celebrate her spirit, and for me the most important thing that Valentine had ever taught is the importance of believing in an imaginary world where everything works in the end.

Valentine will forever be missed.

Let us pray for her.

the festival of beggars

Come my beloved son, it’s the time of the year
Let us go to the temple where the Chinese people pray
It’s their new year my son, another year of prosperity
Unlike us, they are blessed with money abundantly

Dress raggedly my son, do not wash up and be filthy
Do not eat your meal so your cheeks will be hollow
And they would look at you with pity
I know it’s raining my son and I see that you are drenched
But persevere my son, the money is worth the wait

Last year I collected enough to last us a week
The year before that was even better
This year I brought you along so we could collect more
You are five years old now, you should learn to feed yourself
I was on the street much smaller, what a cozy life you’ve had

Son, when the guards tell you to squat you squat
I promise you enduring the heat and the rain and the spit of the guards
is nothing compared to what we are going to get

After all my son, it is free money
It requires no muscle, no skill, no brain
So what enduring a day like a dog when you can feast for a week?

meet the superstar

A nobody tourist apparently is a much more interesting phenomenon than one of the greatest temples in the world

Love Candy

It’s a love story gone horribly wrong. Just like any other love stories. Nothing so special about a heart gets broken. Except when it happens to a girl who loves candy.

She loves him more than love itself. He is her universe, the sole reason of her existence. Like a box of her favorite candy, once she starts she only craves for more. The sugar rush feels so good that she loses all self control and she indulges on the sickeningly sweet sensation, deeply and intensely, until she feels the first bout of nausea, and feels her stomach turns and vomit reaches up to her throat with a burning sensation and her eyes turn bloodshot, tears stream down her face as she throws up her extravagance, sugar mixes with bile, creating such bittersweet, highly addictive pain.

And one day he leaves.

And she finds herself wondering how numbness can be so painful. The days and nights repeat themselves until the day she resolves on creating the Love Candy.

Candy making is a very simple process. Deciding on the flavoring is the hardest part because she is not quite sure on how to capture the flavor of the love of her life. Each of his body parts has its own taste and often they contradict each other. His blood tastes like iron, his sweat tastes like salt. His heart is a little gamey, his liver is bitter like poison. She wonders if soul has a taste and whether she could bottle it and add it into her mixture.

But soul is neither a matter nor a substance and therefore she could not make a candy out of it. She has to settle for the physicality of him.

She chops a little piece off his organs and puts them together in a blender. She dips her finger into the blend and tastes it. It tastes like bloody raw meat. It is not the taste of love.

When the day is over she is badly spent. She falls asleep in the kitchen in the midst of blood and gore.

When she wakes up, she notices that he starts to rot, for she forgets to put him in the freezer. Now there is no way she could continue the experiment. She gathers every piece of him in a plastic bag and throws it into the river and watches as a single fish feasts on him, nibble by nibble.

She shakes her head sadly as the fish reminds her on how she used to feast on him. Until he takes himself away from her, refuses to give her anything, not even a single substance for her to make a love candy.

How To Make A Hard Candy

• 3 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 1/2 cups light corn syrup
• 1 cup water
• 2 drams flavoring
• coloring as desired
• powdered sugar

Mix the first 3 ingredients in a large saucepan. Stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves.
Boil, without stirring until temperature reaches 310 degrees, then remove from heat.
After boiling has ceased, stir in flavoring and coloring.
For basic hard candy, pour onto a lightly greased baking sheet. Cool and sprinkle on powdered sugar. Break into pieces.

The Amazing Race Double Six

New Year's Eve. The task is easy: go to Double Six club and dance the night away.

Two couples decide to go before midnight.
One couple stays back, deciding that the countdown should be somewhere quieter.

Half an hour before midnight, Mother Nature decides it should be raining.
It begins to drizzle.

The couple who stays back decide it's high time they ditch the restaurant and walk to the club now, before the rain stops them.

Not two feet away, the drizzle turns to storm.
Hard, unforgiving storm.

The couple who stays back has to run for the nearest building, which happens to be a car park of a newly-built apartment. And they wait. And they wait. The other couples send them short messages: get over here quick the crowd is crazy.

And they wait. And the clock strikes twelve. And it's new year. And it's still raining cats and dogs. And they are in a car park. And they wait. And they feel like the last team to arrive at The Amazing Race.

One simple decision decides all.
One simple change in nature changes all.

A good reminder for us mortals: nobody controls anything.

So take it easy. Do everything. Expect nothing.
And remember, there's always antidotes for almost everything.
A magnificent first sunset of 2008, at Kudeta, more than makes it up for the car park countdown.

Cheers for another big year.