Tuesday, December 5, 2017


What I had hoped the world was, was simply not meant to be
Those rose tints are gone, and through them again, I never want to see

What an irony, of childlike simplicity and the tangled web we weave


The heart was stupid, but the head was right
I was building my own funeral on a bed of lies

Every third face I saw, now blinds so bright


Come what may, I say, come what may

I shall never belong and that's okay
My greatest solace is my solitude anyway

I saw the truth as it was, yet I wanted to believe any one else but me

Written on
November 24 2017

Monday, December 4, 2017

& the silence sounds so loud

I was quiet
no one
could hear me

I was loud

Written on
December 4 2017

Saturday, August 12, 2017

most people are better in the abstract

                                                                Some days my
                                                                Heart palpitates
                                                                With a fear that
                                                                Embraces the
                                                                Bated breath

                                                                As I
                                                                Into the
                                                                Light of truth
                                                                That my art
                                                                Is one
                                                                My heart



Written on
 2 August 2017

Saturday, August 27, 2016

rose tinted

tinted in rose
glaze after glaze
how many hits to take
till it fades to waste

wide eyed past dusk 
questioning tears
sound asleep with a colossal mask
quenching warped fears

almost was never enough
all the lies a rough draft
same sights different eyes
the vice of truth is pure wrath

lifting the rug
skeletons in a hole
how deep was it dug 
would i ever truly know


Friday, November 20, 2015

how cryptic

Empty - is a strange feeling.
Could you even say it's a feeling when empty is tantamount to the absence of something, anything.

Perhaps it is the point of perfect juxtapose - at the edge but never over, the bent before the break, where black meets white , when good and bad collide.

is like a dreaming realist.

is like a walking contradiction.

is like the solitary mulling in the flurry of activity.

is like having so much to live for yet wanting to die.

is like feeling happy and wondering what the catch is.

is like having so much to say but saying nothing at all.

is like being told a lie and pretending that you believe it.

is like falling in love with the flowers and autumn comes.

is like coveting a happy marriage yet fearing commitment.

is like being surrounded by a sea of people and feeling alone.

is like consoling a friend when you're falling apart on the inside.

is like the romantic in your nature and the cynic from your nurture.

is like seeing a flashing neon sign that says happy when you're sad.

is like the smile on your face partnered with the scars on your wrists.

is like sticking out like a sore thumb and being thrust into the limelight.

is like knowing that nothing you do or avoid would make it better or worse.

is like wanting to hug someone and cry yet knowing that you would smile at whoever you chose to see.

is like sobbing in a movie theatre of strangers and that's the most comfortable you've been around anyone.

Perhaps, empty is an irony.
How cryptic.

Monday, November 9, 2015


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First pit stop of the day and we found ourselves at the KF1 Karting Circuit- both our virgin experience at KF1. What we expected? Your typical run of the mill karting circuits that you’d find overseas- basic helmets that don’t fit well because they only come in two sizes (adult and child), small racetracks and a snail mobile (20km/hr is an overstatement). What we got? Mind blown.

We had full on racing suits and shoes, well-fitted helmets, and by the time we were done with our basic tour and training, our adrenaline was running high. And so, the fun begins.

We were going up to 50km/hr, drifting at turns and clocking better timings as we got past each round. The pure exhilaration from karting hit a perfect 10 every moment that we were on the tracks. We could go on and on with how wonderful it is, but you’d have to get on the tracks and feel that adrenaline pumping through your veins to truly indulge in how we felt.

With beads of perspiration and blistered hands, we walk off the tracks with pumping hearts and the biggest grins on our faces.

FUN FACT: While most karts go at 50km/hr, F1 cars go at 300km/hr. The whiplash alone is enough to kill F1 racers.







After our adrenaline pumping morning ride, it was time to recharge with some lip smacking dishes. We sussed out our personal favourite muslim stall to whet our appetites and cravings. You know what they say, the best way to enjoy good food, is in good company, and we savored our food in a cosy group of 4.

While most food stalls with spectacular food wield long lines and insane waiting hours, NURAINI CHICKEN RICE AND NASI PADANG is a hidden gem. The exterior doesn’t boast anything impressive- a small stall in a tiny coffee shop with no fancy signage, it is so easy to miss. But trust us when we say that it’s what’s inside that counts. We had a huge spread of Nasi Briyani, Sotong Penyet, Ayam Penyet, Achar, Chicken Rice and Pappadum- None of which was a disappointment, each dish was as delectable as the other.

Pop by if you’re in the area, and even if you aren’t, it’s a trip worth making.

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GYMKRAFT – 5.30pm

Calories in, it has to go out somewhere so we head to a breakdancing class! Taught by one half of our duo, Eden, and his trusty partner Norbin. Set in a proper gymnasium with sprung flooring, mats and trampolines, it’s the perfect place to train breakdancing powermoves (flips and other superhuman antics) and tricking in safety. The class is a cosy class of 10 so there’s adequate space to train and sufficient attention from the instructors. Every class starts with basic warm ups, games to heighten your attention and work different muscle groups and finally, it’s down to grind. Students flipping everywhere, crashing to the floor (thank god for mats and sprung floors), getting into the groove with the break beats (aka breakdancing music), tons of laughter, exuberance and energy. By the end of the class, every one is exhausted but satisfying so. New tricks, new limits and new techniques- every class is a sign of progress.

For the newbies or those born with two left feet, there is little to fret about as the instructors will fit you in with the more seasoned students when they deem fit, and coach you at the sides when they feel otherwise. If you’re up for a good workout with a lot of fun, A New Generation is the way to go!

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Dinner is a must, especially after that intense workout so we trooped down to our favourite frog porridge place to fill our tummies with some hearty fare. Served with a choice of rice or porridge, the flavorful claypot frog is a perfect complement to the staples. Our recommendation? Go for the Gong Bao Claypot Frog- Tender frog legs simmered and braised in delicious sauce that is a perfect marriage of sweet and savoury, not forgetting the slight hint of spiciness. Veggies are well cooked with oyster sauce and topped with a generous amount of fried shallots. Top this meal with an order of fresh sugar cane juice from the drinks stall and this dinner is perfect!

And that sums up the little journey that Eden and I went on in a full day for the Caltex- Fuel My City campaign! The campaign is all about discovering local gems in our sunny city and these were our personal picks. Check out www.fuelmycity.com to see what spots have been sussed out by others!

Monday, November 3, 2014

New sights

So, in a couple of hours time, I'd be waking up to get ready for my first office job. The thought of it gives me slight jitters, but more than anything it's excitement- I've never done this in all my 7 years of working. Doing predominantly freelance work has kept me on my toes all these while; the nightlife, my now defunct blogshop, dance gigs, events jobs... I always had the freedom of choice. To work or not to work, it was simple as that. Working meant higher digits in my bank account, but I always had the choice of turning a day of work down. Not that I ever did actually, I never said 'no' to work, even if it meant running back and forth 3 jobs in a day- C.R.E.A.M, right?

Yet, this new journey is really daunting to me- Incorporating some kind of routine into my erratic schedule feels, really weird. Funnily enough, I've always found a sense of comfort in my lack of stability. Waking up not knowing what day it is, waking up scrambling to my organiser and frantically flipping through the pages to figure out why my alarm is set at that particular hour... And now, hello 4 days a week of hearing that annoying beeping at the same time every day. 

Even more bizarre than routine incorporation, is the fact that I'm taking up an office job. I've never once envisioned myself ever having a desk in an office. Well, change is good, right? Maybe not being completely topsy turvy from the rest of the world would do me some favours. 

It's going to be a really interesting time for me, tiring no doubt, but interesting. I'm taking on this job on top of everything else that I'm already doing and mid month, a possible teaching stint. I guess it's going to be one hell of a time for me, I've yet to settle into the changes that this year has bestowed upon me and here I am nudging those already shaky Jenga blocks of life. Time to step up my game. 

With all that self pep talk said and done, I still stand firm on one thing:
Fuck mornings.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Ship In Harbour

Some days, I'd dream that you'd come back. But on others, I'd wish that you never would. This small city is but a harbour, and you, you're a ship. You are safe here, but that's not what ships are for.

alma mater

Went past my alma mater today and was hit by such a huge wave of nostalgia- Pressed against the glass, staring at my surroundings, wide eyed. It was half an a half; dreaming of a better life and reminiscing better days. 

Funny, really. 7 years ago, I stood at a fork in the road and made my first " real world " decision that changed everything. 

How would my life be like, if I had picked the conventional route- The route I had mapped out over years, the route I was supposed to step on, the route I had envisioned for myself. Yet I turned a 45 and picked the other trail. Everything that I had never imagined, came to be my life. 

At 16, I would never, in my wildest imagination, think that I'd be living the life I'm living now. 

It amuses me greatly;the path I've chosen, the choices I've made, the company I've immersed in...and the person I've become. 

" It can be such a mangled ride,
Maybe we write to save our lives " 


Thursday, September 25, 2014

Game Face On.

She got a seat, huddled close to the window, flipped her hair to a side and adjusted her hoodie. If only this bus ride could last forever; trapped in this moment of subtle solitude and briefly relieved from the duties of an expected smile and an upbeat disposition. Why do people treat sadness like the plague anyway? 

She'd been walking on this tightrope of faux placidity the entire day, that though, was manageable. Then came company, and her game face was on. That, didn't sit too well with her but 'responsible' was the word. For months now, she'd psyched herself to learn to live her life a particular way-"compartmentalisation'. Her warped pragmatic mindset of having complete disregard for those nasty surreptitious feelings and trudging on with her day like all was fine and dandy until there was time to deal. 'Compartmentalisation', was 'responsible'.

She had never learnt to deal the "right" way. Alcohol, nicotine, caffeine and, as ironic as it sounds, pain. Those were resident tenants in her library of coping, her little companions of solace. They say that misery loves company and those were hers. 

She scrolled through picture after picture, and through her fervent scrolling stopped on a collection of photographs- Circa 1997. Childhood. That one last untainted year before everything had spiralled into the nauseating disarray that ensued. Her lip quivered and she bit on it, but a sneaky tear escaped. Oh, the things she'd do just to go back to then. 

She stared out the window, every other living soul around her shut off by the music wafting through her earphones. This bus ride could go on forever. If only it could. 

" Perfection is a disease of a nation ", those lyrics snaked in and constricted her brain in a chokehold of mental suffocation. 

She'd been chasing a ghost her entire life. 

"We shine the light on whatever's worst". How apt. 

"Then you break when the fake facade leaves you in the dark". Impeccable. 

She stood before her door, that bus ride didn't last forever. The turn of the key was tantamount to flipping a mental switch. 

She took a deep breath as the lights came on. Game. Face. On. 

" You are nothing but a husk of a person ".