My Gripe

Some time ago, before Trump cried war on Iran - it is not the worst, really - I was really rooting for Trump against China, for in my view, it was China who instigated the trade war with their industrial policy executed at a global scale. State-owned enterprises, like BYD, with CCP's subsidies and the advantage of supply chain in their own backyard put the European automobile industry into chaos. The fightback in the form of tariffs from US was inevitable, to say the least, and we wait and watch closely for any reaction from the Europeans, as export performed strongly for China in Year 2025. My gripe with CCP (not China, that is) is their desire to conquer the rest of the world, so to speak, in a new form of war, using its economic strength and leverage to influence the less resourceful countries. In other words, while US relies on its military strength in solving what it deems as obstacle to remain as the No. 1 power, CCP was throwing blood money, squeezed from its hardworking, submissive citizens.

Weight-lifting and Such...

Indeed, sweating it out is a good way to release endorphins at the end of a day, which act as great mood enhancers. I have been rather introspective lately. It takes time and all my mental facilities to conclude that to come to know Evonne is already a bonus, especially at my age. So, I should appreciate every moment I could spend with her. Part of me really wants to know her more - everything, anything about her. Another part tells me not to pin too much expectation on an outcome. Perhaps it is the process that matters. With that, I have a feather for brain. 

Fleeing

This time I decide not
To die. Tired 
Of carrying an empty

Case of bones and flesh,

Tired of the cold

I flap my wings 

(Flying papers)

To flee the north,

The night, to feel

The sun flirting 

Wih my face. I could 

Have cried. The night waiting

For my tears to submerge

Word by word on this page.

I could have been eaten.

Rainbow

The rainbow is plastic. You didn't hear that from me. My words are my brush; you only hear the music in your ears when it sings. I hope I am not trying too hard. All stones are brittle, don't you think? Or maybe hope is a coconut - husk outside, and all pulpy inside. 

And That is Alright

Long I have been away. Till, as if suddenly, 2023 has come to its end. Still, here I am, as if to sweep off the cobwebs, mop the floor and open the windows to let the air in. 

One lesson learned hard: the heart is a house not to be abandoned. You live in it as much as, if not more than, your physical body. I ran, swam, wrote, read and sang as much as possible; filled my world with sweat, tears, ink and notes. These are only for my own knowledge. These are parts of the private, inner world I have built for myself. Only I am in it. And that is alright no matter how others see it. And that is alright.

Time Waits

The sun tells time, rising and rising, then falling and falling. While the wind pretends to be time, alluring yet elusive. When darkness descends, the mysterious night shades lives into shadows, reaching into every heart. 

We are part of day, as we are part of night. So, after all, time does wait. Wait for her turn. Allow you to come home, take off your shoes, lift both feet off the ground. At last. Time slows down, turns her page softer, softer, as you close your eyes.  

Keep Moving...

Again, it is not that I have not been writing that makes this page empty. Though not as much, I am still writing on my Facebook and my hand-written journals. So all is fine. Life, to move on, finds its own way out. And life always moves on. 

Perhaps not writing here does have its benefits. For one, I now doubt anyone is following my blog, which gives me the power of anonymity - yes, I am that way, though I have never met any of my readers in person, I know some may be of a vulnerable age - to free my thoughts. 

I don't smoke, or drink excessively. No, nothing like that. In fact, I am a running addict - for the uninitiated, it means you get hooked on the running high, the energy or self-confidence. But I do have a dark side. I am a man. A single man. Some days, when evening comes, and everyone goes back to their family, I ponder my options. I don't remember when it started, and though I wasn't physically there, my mind was: Geylang. Yes, I visited the legal brothel, the red-light district. It did not just start suddenly; it took a lot of self-convincing, or self-deception, whatever you like to call it. And almost every time, it is a guilt trip. It is a matter of satisfying a natural need, like a nature's call, I said to myself. A thousand times, before and after. And to make things worse, maybe because I have started having sex so late in my life, I just couldn't finish the job in a woman's vagina, only by a handjob, or maybe I am just not used to wearing condom, I don't know; how would I know?

Just on Saturday, I just visited one, an illegal one, that I booked via a website. And for the first time, I did it, finished the job with a condom inside her. Honestly speaking, it felt nothing special. It is just sex. I don't feel sad that I am missing something special in my life. Nothing like that. Neither does it encourage me to visit her or another one soon - she did offer that we go for a second. 

Still, life moves on after that. I went for my run and back home. Just like any other Saturday. Yes, it must be true that man has the ability to differentiate sex and love, which explained my flat emotion. It is safe to say that I have "trained" myself well as a single man. Or rather, I just do what I need to do to survive, to keep moving...