A deal was made yesterday in the midst of a hungry dim sum lover meeting Sunday morning. A harsh judge of taste on those little metal plates, I demand for another Sunday morning dim sum.

An invitation to new faces, self-doubting exploration: a karaoke session. One Sunday afternoon in a filtered room, strangers were introduced, lights were dimmed, 4 microphones in good performance state, eight years of anti-karaoke was diminished. This afternoon, there I was in room no. 3, holding onto the microphone, SINGING. Fast paced seconds ticked, unsatisfied; we pulled a scheme – extension. Feeling at cloud 9, my skin was stripped apart. Tingling sensation on my throat, ecstasy fickle each time my voice transfused into my impaired ear.

Sing-along with the crappy lovesick songs, 90′s boybands, Chinese characters admiration, Malay/Indon classics, screaming rock & roll stars, Friday club hits and Korean Wonder Girls, I infested myself with excessive crappy music videos. Hot blonde wears a see-through dress on a beautiful beach, flicking her hair, smiling, giggling, jumping on the waves, she’s all wet; rolling her body on the white fine sand and slowly the camera zooms to her feet moving towards her neckline emphasizing her cleavage. Repelled, I was. Nevertheless, these are some of my favourites today:

1. Lagenda by Sheila Majid

2. All I Want is You by 911

3. I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith

4. Kau Ilhamku by Man Bai

5. Empire State of Mind by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys

At the spur of self-entertaining, FM sang Justin Bieber’s Baby and cracked the best joke of the day. Laughters from the broken heart vibrate ridiculously sinful. A fearful afternoon melted the rays of strangers glare in a prolonged desirable six hours of hostile voice projection. I smiled and waved goodbye to the strangers, now friends.

Dinner table was set in the heart of the city lights. The loud percussion instruments with Turkish vocal intrudes the sweet scent coming from the hookah pipes, miserably tranquillizing. Two females in a Yemeni restaurant dining, story-telling. She spoke about her past, her childhood stories, her relationships. I admire her humbleness, her naiveness. Her hospitableness astonish me immensely. Despite it all, I still have my armour on, protecting my beating flimsy heart.

My first weekend in August.

Last February, I made a wish.
Six simple words.
Last Friday, the six words I released to the heaven above came true.

I dressed up for fancy dinner with friends from Hong Kong,
sitting in a posh restaurant, bumping into who’s who,
my hair was curled, my nails in hot red,
with the brand new Prada bag,
I’m polished.

Four friends drowning on 18 y. o. Macallan,
a bottle finished, another bottle opened.
Single Malt Whisky with 2 cubes of ice.
Conversation of tattoos, Hong Kies, Vietnamese brides and etc.

Later that night, Jaguar stopped in front of the mall,
eyes popped, people stared and judged.
I believed in magic and wishes again.
He was right there, we smiled and greeted like strangers.

Stepping into that 8th floor again,
memories flood my brain from the whisky earlier.
He offered the 21 y. o. Ballantine’s,
we drink to the drama six months ago.
Another drinking game, abbreviation.
Three of us, drinking on the same table,
how the chemistry started six months ago.

That night, I was in his arms again.
I am a drunk happy child.
Sunlight was bright, “Good Morning”, he greeted.
He made coffee, I lighted up my first stick and watched MTV with a weird smile carved on my face.

I managed to prove my theory right.

The next night, I fell asleep on a familiar couch.
I blame the football and The Famous Grouse.
Sunday morning started with Hong Kong dishes and fascination of ‘Sparks’.

One Friday morning, Jeff, Jess and Joe drove up north to meet the sun, sea and sand. That weekend, they salivate their glands and filled their guts.

The trip’s theme song : Bad Things by Jace Everett

‘A Home like A Home’ at Shalini’s Guesthouse

Thrilling with Monopoly Deal

My sunset ride with Mas

In search of Jenga champion in Hong Kong Bar

Night coffee sessions in Sunset Cafe

One of the best roadtrips ever. We did nothing beside sipping five to six cups of coffee a day, looking at naked breasts, laughing at failed beach activities.

I’m such a beach bum.

I can’t sleep and dream anymore at this point of time.
I spent the past 2 hours tossing around, browsing music videos from my BB.
I can’t sleep no more.

Tonight,
I answered 3 phone calls.
All three calls have the same purpose and received same rejection from me.
“Wanna catch up tonight?” screams desperate at 11pm on a Monday night.

Last weekend,
as soon as I smelled the air of congestion,
I needed my trusted liquid.
A familiar place, too many familiar faces.
It felt like I’ve left the city too long.
The jumpy part is realising we were in one place this whole time.
Girl sitting next to you, touching you, caressing you, your good friend was hurting inside.

Forgotten Saturday night plan,
a little celebration for two.
Friends turned lovers turned soul mates.
I mentioned you to the happy couple.
Disappearing to the city lights,
I’ve ordered cognac and mojito. My trusted combination.
The night began when Art of Seduction meets rock band,
playing AC/DC, Pink Floyd, The Beatles popular hits,
introducing Facing East by Thievery Corporation,
Guinness Stout hits my judgment again.
I blended in the dark sheets and I heart Singapore shirt.

Sunday,
a special day.
Secretly she wished I still draw cards on this special day.
I asked her to tie a ponytail, she smiled.
The last match of the season,
back to the familiar place, consuming the regular black,
I was cheering for the Blues,
King Carlo, a great man.
They deserved the title.

Little thoughts while watching Liverpool versus Chelsea.

My weird pang for shisha and caffeine is back.
I am here sitting on the bar, drinking Guinness, lusting for Strawberry ice cream in the tub.
Feeling agitated and angry over the stupid football match, this weekend was a tad disappointment.

I hate the smell of cheese and this weekend, I’ve encountered countless times of the pungent snort on my nose. I’m sick of pasta and the sight of pizza.

This weekend,
I detached myself from a sight I want to be dismiss.
The minimal I was looking for was right in front of me.
I located an unprotective shield he hid in that small compartment.
I questioned myself a million times, the first time.
Why again am I positioned in this situation?

This weekend,
the dream of your new house with different shades of purple emerged,
engagements with your close friends belonged to a little boy’s joy,
morning kisses under the sheets slips meaningless smile.

The weekend has gone.
I’ve deserved better the coming days.