Sunday, February 27, 2005

Weekends at home

Weekends for me are a time for rest. Yeah, I know most gay guys would be out there shaking their booty and partying the night away at some of the nightspots in town, having the boom-boom thumpa-thumpa gay disco beats and the blinking/flashing strobe lights provide a theme for the night. There was a time when I first came out to myself that I enjoyed doing the same, releasing some of my tension through dancing the night away with people of my own ilk :)

But nowadays for me it's a time to rest and recuperate from the stresses of the week. Running about at work throughout the week burns up enough calories for me and I usually spend the weekend doing much tamer stuff. I do my groceries, catch up on some light reading and I usually rest. Which actually means veg out and watch the telly, most of the time. If I feel a tad more energetic, I go for some antique shopping since I still have spaces to fill in my new place.

Seregil and AlecThis weekend, rather than try my luck at the nearest bar ( and trying my best to pick up some cute sexually confused boy ) I received a batch of books that I've been waiting for. The Nightrunner series by Lynn Flewelling is an open-ended set of books that chronicle the adventures of spy and thief Seregil of Rhiminee and his apprentice and erstwhile partner, Alec of Kerry. Still reading the first book, Luck in the Shadows, which tells the tale of how the initially naive, innocent Alex first encounters the spy/thief/sexy stud extraodinaire, Seregil :)

An interesting place to find more Fantasy Fiction out there with a homosexual bent...
GLBT Fantasy Fiction Resources

Saturday, February 26, 2005

Dazed and confused

I've frequently been asked what it's like being at work. Well, that would take a longer explanation than a day could cover but I can certainly explain what it feels like the day after a bad on-call.

Generally speaking, an on-call for the doctors over here means holding responsibility for a certain department's duties ( e.g. paediatrics, medicine, surgery ) for a period of 24 hours - and being on-call if needed in the hospital. Needless to say, the 24 hour call means running around ragged like a madman, attending to numerous patients - new incoming patients and also patients already warded, giving replies to separate referrals and barking out curt orders like a martinet. Obviously there's hardly any time to sit around twiddling our thumbs.

After a really awful day of such acute stresses, there is a sense of overwhelming relief especially when I see the next day's poor bastard coming to work. Could almost kiss the damned bugger. Doing rounds on that day feels like floating on a dream state of fugue. Almost like a hangover, my head feels like it's been doused in heavy-duty gin and wrapped up in wool. Every move I make feels pathetically slow almost as if by slow-mo and cautious, and when I speak, it feels like I'm talking underwater with the words feeling almost like a foreign tongue to me.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Someone to laugh with

Been channelsurfing recently and I managed to glance through a new reality show called Mr Personality. The premise of the show is based on the fact that the girl has to choose a partner based only on his personality as all the contenders have their face masked. Perhaps that's the right way to go.

I would be the first to admit that looks certainly play a part in initial attraction. Let's face it, no one's gonna go for the stinky, unkempt Shrek lookalike unless you have an odd ogre fetish somewhere ( or you're a green ogre princess yourself ). No one out there's gonna deny that great pecs, washboard abs and a bubblebutt helps raise credit in the gay stakes for love.... and yet I always recall a line I read in a book years back when I was still in school and it always made sense to me, then and now. Took me a while to dig out the right book but I finally found it collecting dust in my library.

'... I always wished to have a friend to laugh with.'
'To laugh with! he repeated slowly.
'Perhaps you have friends already who laugh when you do,' she said diffidently. 'I haven't, and it's important, I think - more important than sympathy in affliction, which you might easily find in someone you positively disliked.'
'But to share a sense of the ridiculous prohibits dislike - yes, that's true.'

It's all too true. A great sense of humour always strikes me as something I'd seriously look for in a guy. Reminds me of a guy I once contemplated seeing for more than a few dates. Pretty Boy had the prerequisite Abercrombie & Fitch look, all sleek muscles and shiny Chiclets smile. Just looking at that pretty face almost made up for a lack of personality - since unfortunately what he made up in muscles and testosterone, he certainly lacked in a sense of humour. Whenever I picked up on something funny and give him a knowing look, he'd stare back in confusion. When I cracked a silly joke, he'd slowly turn and ask me what I mean! Abominable! It drove me insane.

Sharing a sense of the ridiculous is indeed extremely rare and it's a lucky guy who manages to find someone who shares the same. The guy you'd look across a crowded room, share a smile and he'd immediately know what's the damned joke. Now, that's chemistry.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005


A new movie has opened in the theatres here that has been in the middle of a tiny tempest of controversy. The movie depicting interracial romance, Sepet, is directed by Yasmin Ahmad, a director famous for her amazingly muhibbah portrayal of Malaysian life in her Petronas adverts, featuring interracial integration and neighbourliness.

SepetThe word Sepet in colloquial Malay actually means slit-eyed which is a derogatory term for the Chinese, or as Yasmin puts it, it's derogatory only if you don't like slit eyes. The synopsis for the movie tells it all...

19-year old Ah Loong is in charge of a stall selling pirated vcd's. Contrary to what you might expect someone of his social standing to be, Ah Loong is an incurable romantic with an unlikely hobby - he loves to read and write poetry. Quite content to carry on being the Romeo of the slums, Ah Loong's life takes a sudden turn one day when a 16-year old Malay schoolgirl arrives at his stall in search of Wong Kar-Wai's films.

As mentioned above, the movie simply tells the tale of the love between a boy and a girl. In any other place, it would be run of the mill and just the usual but in Malaysia, it's a lil storm in a teacup as the story is further complicated by the fact that it's the story of a Chinese boy and a Malay girl - and further more it's set in a country like Malaysia.

In a country dominated politically and socially by the Malays, Malaysia has a significant number of people from other minority races that include the ethnic Chinese and the Indians. In the spirit of harmony, the country projects an image of racial integration and togetherness but scratch the shiny, glossy veneer and you'll see severely split racial divides that won't be bridged easily with silly sentimental ditties and hastily pieced together integration campaigns. Bring up issues of religion, race and affirmative action in favour of the majority - and you'll invite a storm of controvery with the races bitterly squabbling on opposite camps.

So you can guess that such a simple love story in Malaysia isn't actually all that simple after all.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Queer Eye for Men

Before you guys panic, I'm not gonna talk about wall stencilling and floor layouts. I just gotta complain about gay men in general, or perhaps myself being extremely picky in general. What can I say, dating hasn't been all wine and roses lately.

Oddly enough, men are like houses actually. No way would I call myself a marvellously appointed formal French Provincial apartment since that would be far from the truth. Let's not get carried away with too much pretension since I'm more the neat, practical IKEA styled suburban home with the occasional odd Asian antiques and stylings.

Unfortunately, most of the guys I meet out there in need of serious renovation both on their exteriors and the interiors. A quick slap of glossy paint and a nicer frontage would have done wonders for some of those sloppy joes but all that doesn't compare with what's hidden inside. Some of those doors should remain locked as they open up to some horrific nightmares that I shudder to think about :)

Of course there are the lovely muscled hunks who are perfect on the outside, beautiful facades but with perfectly empty rooms inside. Boys who think shiny smiles and rock-hard exteriors are all they need to survive. For some reason, gay men have come to the idea that a first date means some nookie on the side. What the hell is up with that? Sex is fine by me and hell, I love it but not straight after the hors'douevres. At least let me refuel before you take off my pants.

But let's not get carried away. Then again, there are guys who are beautiful both inside and out. For me, the outside doesn't have to be perfect, something neat and presentable will do just fine. The rooms inside are perfectly appointed and stylish - and yet I find that I don't see eye to eye with the design. Something just doesn't click for the both of us. It's like meshing modern minimalist zen with grandiose Italian Baroque.

Is something wrong with me or am I way too picky?

Monday, February 21, 2005

Tool-time Boyfriend

Influenced by recent programs such as The Block on the new Travel and Living Channel, I've been inspired to set out on several home improvement projects. Since I've moved in to a new place, I have several large, empty rooms that are just crying out for a queer makeover. You see these guys on TV get their hands on a room - and they make makeover miracles in days turning plain, uninspired rooms into stylish, decorating masterpieces. It's almost like magic. All of that inspired me to walk straight to the nearest hardware store.

What can I say? After all my work, I've decided that I'm all thumbs when it comes to DIY projects. Interior decorating, stencilling and painting are all fine by me but when it comes to the heavy duty stuff... I'm a massive klutz. It was like something out a Three Stooges convention. Hammers and nails obviously sense my obvious discomfort around them - and they revolt whenever I come near! Screwdrivers get all bent when I get my hands on them and hand-drills inevitably become weapons of mass destruction in my hands.

In the While You Were Out series, they had Andrew Dan-Jumbo, a gorgeous, built handyman with bulging biceps who conjures up architectural wonders in days. Now where do I find such a big, hunky toolman of a guy?

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Giving it a lil pump

Is it wrong to lust after a man much younger than yourself? :) Had this lil dilemma today when I set out to get some gas and noticed the pump attendant coming to offer some help. Usually, it's self-service in the station but it was late, and it was empty so the usual guy came over to help. He's a hunk, no doubt about it, one of those bonafide hunks blessed with great genes and good living that you can't help but drool over. One of those perfect Malay boys, beautiful, smooth, mocha-coloured skin spread over acres of muscle. Just finished school BTW which puts him out of the jailbait stage. But I actually never stopped to hyperventilate over him until this evening.

Tight abs!Perhaps it was the sultriness of the evening... and the humidity. FOr some reason, he came over to help me pump the gas. And while pumping away, he did something all tough jocks and healthy college boys do, which is reach down and scratch his abs. Can't think of any reason why they all do that but I'm definitely supporting that move. Can I say ten-pack? Tight, defined abs with a treasure trail that was slicked with sweat and oil.

I know, I know, I shouldn't objectify the young man. And I shouldn't subscribe to the notion that gay men are only after youth and beauty but I just couldn't help myself. Something about sculptured abs ( and a great ass ) always makes me lose my sane mind for a second. It's hard to think of a great sense of humour and a brain when I'm faced with perfect abs.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Night and Day

Isn't it weird how two siblings can be brought up in the same family, the same home and yet emerge from them totally different? My brother and I are totally different characters. With a third person in the room, we are gregarious and as talkative as ever but place us both alone together and there's an interminable silenceas we both clam up. We just don't have anything in common to talk about. Sure, we do share the same values, the same ideals, the same stands on most issues but character and personality wise, we couldn't be more different. He's serious, methodical and has a hair-trigger temper while I'm a lil more impulsive and my temper's the slow to simmer type. He's an obsessive financial analyst while I'm more.. well, I'm actually quite the spendthrift with an obsession for shopping. He takes months to plan for a trip, scheduling every event into the intinerary with a general's precision while I'm usually ready for Timbuktu in seconds.

One of the things we do share is a love for movies. And since our father, the history teacher managed to inculcate in the both of us a love for history, watching National Treasure seemed like a logical choice for the both of us. Like a modern day cross between Indiana Jones and the recent hit novel the Da Vinci code, the National Treasure tells the story of a treasure hunter who finds mysterious clues in the most innocuous places leading to untold riches. Just like the Da Vinci Code, the clues lie in plain sight, horrifyingly enough in the most public of places just waiting for the right person to piece it all together. Although I had my doubts about Nicolas Cage playing the role of the treasure hunter, Benjamin Gates, I guess he did it as well as he could - although with none of the aplomb of a younger and hunkier Harrison Ford.

Justin Bartha

But while my brother was talking about the technical aspects of a heist planned by Benjamin Gates, I was thinking of slurping up his sidekick Riley Poole ( played by Justin Bartha ) with a spoon. Now, that's a man I certainly wouldn't mind digging up some clues to find. Perhaps the old Santiago Fort in Malacca hides the clues to Portuguese gold?

Thursday, February 17, 2005

A little bit of jazz

A friend of mine - well, let's say a recent date of mine - made a comment on my choice of music in my car stereo and I came to realize that yeah, I do have a lot of ancient music in my choice of albums. Well, not exactly ancient but music that was popular when my grandpa was in his twenties and probably gramophones were the hot item in home decor.

Michael BubleWhat can I say? In my past life, I must have been some 1920s jazz piano player, tinkling the ivories as the tittering molls in flapper dresses went by. Just the sound of the saxophone gets my head bopping and my feet tapping... and no one could be happier since there's a recent revival in jazz. Along with the old standards such as Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald, new singers such as Michael Buble, Jamie Cullum and Jane Monheit have been getting a lot of airplay on my stereo.

Sure, the wild, throbbing thumpa-thumpa of the gay disco has its appeal but for me, it will always be the soft, mellow sounds of jazz that gets me in the mood. Their music brings to mind the old MGM movies, the ones I used to watch those late Friday nights when I was a kid, where everything was laid out clearly in black and white, the good guys always beat the bad guys - and always walked into the sunset with the swooning heroine.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005


A short note linked to my earlier Constantine comments.

While the forces of good are represented by the oddly androgynous Gabriel played by Tilda Swinton, the bad boys are dressed to kill in the style of the Godfather. What can I say, evil has never looked so good in the form of the deliciously wicked Gavin Rossdale who makes his debut as Balthazar, one of hell's numerous minions. Glossy and slicked up in hair gel and Italian suits, he makes really sweet male eye candy as he struts across the screen causing havoc in men's lives.

Constantine and Balthazar in an intimate moment

As Balthazar approaches the stoic John Constantine and pronounces him 'finger-lickin' good', I can't help but wonder how anyone could possibly resist such sinful temptation :) The bad boys always have it so good.

Monday, February 14, 2005

Crazy Valentine

The term metrosexual disgusts me... for no other reason than the fact that it's playing havoc with my life right now. It's one of the reasons I'm spending Valentine's on my lonesome at home - instead of one of the trendy restaurants in town with my other single pals, commiserating over cups of latte about our lack of committed partners.

One of my dearest friends, who shall remain unnamed since she unlike my ISO ( insignificant other ) actually does read blogs and might inadvertently stumble on mine ... let's call her Grace, posed a serious question the other day that shook me to the core. For some time, I have had some small suspicion that her feelings for me have been more than platonic - since for some odd reason, the fact that I'm a raving homosexual seems to have escaped her notice. During one of our biweekly dinners, she asked me what I was looking for in a partner. As usual, I listed them out... a great sense of humour, intelligence, independence, beautiful eyes, a nice ass.... but obviously I left out the fact that I wanted someone with a hairy chest since she immediately asked me why I've never looked at her in that way. She might as well have brought a sledgehammer to my head.

It was at the tip of my tongue to blurt out my secret but the cute waiter walked into view and I was sidetracked by the way his ass filled out his pants. Later, I was left wondering what had gone wrong. Had I repressed myself to such an extent that my pheromones had gone all awry and had started influencing the fairer sex? I'd spend my time trying to catch the eye of the sexy, broad shouldered hunk in tight jeans and I'd get a wink from a foxy lady instead. Years back, she'd see my snazzy clothes, my great hair, my obsession with shopping, the fact that I ogle great looking guys as they walk by - as a huge sign labelling my homosexuality. Nowadays, she'd call me the enlightened metrosexual.

Odd, the problems I get into. Trying to appease her as she got into a litany of the problems faced by the overachieving singleton, I somehow got into a Julia Roberts/Dermot Mulroney pact to get married at the age of 30. Still have two years before that so someone get me out of this please! :)

Clive Owen

Someone who isn't gonna be termed a metrosexual has to be our boy Clive here. Someone asked me what he looked like so here's a pic of him... In the movie Closer, he's raw, crude and more than a lil brutish - just the way we likes em.

Since I had all that free time last week, also added two new stories on my website at Bedtime Stories.

Sunday, February 13, 2005


As usual for this time of the year which is the Chinese New Year, my cousins and I - all kids of the same generation, we all pack ourselves into a few cars and travel onwards to the nearest cinema to cacth the latest flick. No matter how far we've come, no matter how busy we are, no matter how much we all argue all year round, we make this almost compulsory.

It's a tradition of sorts for us. Kinda like hollies and turkey for Christmas, red packets and oranges for New Year. A new tradition we've been making for ourselves actually since some of them have only just earned their driving licenses. Horrifying to imagine that some of these kids used to be in diapers when I was in school! And now they're driving!

ConstantineThis year, I made the choice of Constantine. And thank God, I made the right choice. Like every other Hellblazer fan, I didn't fancy having our hard-biting, sarcastic thoroughly English mage turned into some slick Americanized version. I didn't like the fact that he wasn't blond and that he wasn't wearing a beat-up tan-coloured trenchcoat. Nor did I like the idea that Chas Chandler, his faithful taxi-driving friend had been turned into some kid sidekick.

The movie deals with John Constantine just as he's dealing with the spectre of terminal lung cancer - a usre one way ticket to hell especially with his previous attempted suicide. At the same time, a police detective Angela Dodson played by Rachel Weisz, seeks his help in solving the mystery of her psychic twin's sudden suicide.

But all that didn't spoil my enjoyment of the show. I admit parts of the movie dragged on a bit, I certainly could have hoped for a more fast-paced adaptation but overall I think the directors managed to stay quite close to the spirit of the character. It was great seeing John Constantine ( albeit looking a little darker and more American ) looking bleary and tired, flicking up his lighter for another cigarette.

Keanu ReevesNot only did it rekindle my interest in Hellblazer, it also made me take a closer look at one of my earliest crushes again. What can I say... it would take a stronger man than me not to feel weak in the knees. Keanu Reeves.. those defined washboard abs. That amazing bubble butt :) Not really a great surprise that Hell wants a piece of him.

Another movie that I took a quick look at was Closer. A really unusual movie about four personalities, all quite well-to-do, reasonably intelligent and yet all unable to maintain a committed relationship without hurting the other. Watch this intriguing drama to see a fascinating scene where Clive Owen has cybersex with Jude Law in a case of mistaken identities.

Yeah, Clive Owen and Jude Law together. I can just see the delicious possibilities.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Coming out

It takes some time to come out to everyone - and by that I mean, coming out of the proverbial closet. For every gay man, it means coming out to someone almost every other day and I doubt the process ever actually ends. Societal conventions rule that heterosexuality's the norm which makes being gay an aberration of sorts.

And that goes double for times like these. With the Chinese New Year coming by ( and probably with every other occasion which calls for an unprecedented family gathering ), a reasonably intelligent, attractive, successful man would be expected to be relentlessly pelted with numerous probing questions on his impending marriage. Being single and eligible for a man of his late twenties seems odd and unusual - which brings about the usual questions on his state of matrimony. No doubt this happens in the lives of any gay man with a leg partially in the closet.

Deciding to fly in the face of convention, I decided to come clean with some of my childhood friends this year - just prior to the New Year celebrations. The question of my sexuality was never broached in school since the spectre of homosexuality in a missionary all-boys school was something to be whispered about and derided at that time. Years back, I was still wrestling with the very thought of admitting it to myself, much less admitting it to anyone else. By the time I was in med school, I had pretty much knocked out all the demons in my head - and most of my colleagues in med school had a very good idea where the wind blows in regards to my sexuality.

These were the friends of my childhood, the guys I'd played tag and monopoly with, the guys I'd fought and given black eyes to and yet remained as close as ever. Ties and briefcases didn't change the fact that we'd seen each other at our worst - and our grubbiest. Broaching the topic to my childhood friends and coming out to them was a step not to be taken lightly but over a dish of yee sang, I just blurted it out to everyone. To say they were appalled would be an understatement. Think stunned disbelief. For a moment, I felt like calling for a crash trolley to perform a resuscitation. There were no uncivilized brawls and angry accusations, a horrific ending that my overwrought imagination had earlier dreamt up. There weren't as many questions as I'd imagined, seems that the years away from school had brought about a degree of tolerance that I hadn't expected.

As usual, there were the odd embarassing questions as one relatively good-looking friend wondered whether I'd had a crush on him which I could happily and truthfully deny. I can't imagine what he'd have done if I'd confessed to carrying a torch for him. Probably would have tossed the bowl of raw salmon at me and run like hell.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Bedtime Movies

Finally took the time to review some of the DVDs I have stacked up on my desk. It's been a while since I've taken a break long enough to catch up on my gay movie viewing - and the titles have certainly piled up since then. There were the usual depressing tragedies of course - meaning boy meets, boy falls in love with boy, boy undergoes trials and tribulations to finally end up with boy, boy dies of some unforeseen malady, a disastrous, ill-contrived accident... etc. There were also the flesh-baring porn scenes masquerading as a moving drama with an intricate plot - but hell, we all enjoy that, don't we?


Of course that wasn't the way all the movies ended. One movie that caught my attention was Merchant Ivory's Maurice. Really ancient, I'm sure to some of the other purveyors of gay cinema out there but it's new to me. Sure, I read the book written by
E. M. Forster a while ago but I never really got to watch the movie till now. Hell, the DVD's been sitting on my desk for months.

What surprised me was the fact that I enjoyed the movie - isn't it the well known adage that a real-life movie never comes to life as perfectly as the imagined movie in your head? But I like Maurice. For those not in the know, Maurice tells the tale of an intelligent, sensitive Englishman in the beginning of the last century, wrestling with his sexual identity. A role wonderfully played by a fresh, almost innocent looking James Wilby. Ever since I first read the book, I've always tried to imagine the image of Scudder ( played by a belligerent Rupert Graves ) coming into Maurice's bedroom... and I don't think it has ever come out as well.

A movie made from a book inspired by a touch on the buttocks. Isn't life swell?