C Wing Hong (chin woo)

C Thiem Fatt/Lim Han Hoon

C Thiem Tat

The old house on SCK.

Evil does not need a diagnosis

I’m so glad this friendship has developed, and we’re both on a journey of discovery. Mez is more self-aware; every conversation we have leaves me with new wisdom to chew over.

Mental and emotional health, and our responsibilities to ourselves. Much to learn. we are both prone to tears, and a self examination that benefits from guidance. The ridiculous hoops we jump through to get good lingerie or swimsuits.

Sexuality, love, connections, relationships. Who we fall for, how we love, how these decisions are made. What lies beyond our ability to decide. The things that are within view but remain unexamined.

Maybe I should listen to a podcast for adulting emotionally. Let someone else suggest what to curate about myself.

Evil πŸ‘πŸ» does πŸ‘πŸ» not πŸ‘πŸ» need πŸ‘πŸ» a πŸ‘πŸ» diagnosis πŸ‘πŸ»

Letting go of the things I should. I read earlier that I should think of the cravings as a training ground, while the body adjusts. It is adjusting.

Cleared some scheduling obligations, let go of some anger than arose. A moment of clarity that we have different approaches to shame.

For her, shame includes the things that happen to us, and must be stowed away. For me, shame is only relevant when I am at fault, the rest is injustice. I can’t say either approach results in more noticeable happiness, maybe I’m wrong.

Tonight, I give myself a segment of time to attend to myself. Oats porridge, a book. Hot shower, face mask. πŸ’•πŸ’•πŸ’• Candles πŸ’•πŸ’•πŸ’•. I should get room mist too.

What’s happening in your life? Why are you crying so much?

Housemate was asking Rolly, but past Lainie heard that question too.

People have been telling me lately I’m losing weight, which is still weird to hear. It’s always fluctuated, but never because of exercise.

Gym today went well, tried a new leg lift (?) thing which suggest I have no core muscles to speak of. Just my feet, and a hand out of reach.

Just thinking of how much new bras will cost makes me cringe. Had a post-gym snack on impulse but it was so not worth it. I should just never buy convenience store ice cream.

Obviously a fucking sociopath decided the microwave should beep every minute continuously once it’s done its job

One last enquiry into my application. Then I’ll move on.

Plans to stay home derailed but I did get a run through on how the gradual acceptance of incestuous ships in Supernatural fanfic bled to 1D fandoms and paedo communities.

No death on the Mr Miyagi hill tonight (kink hill tho…)

The heart wants what it wants

Does this policy spark joy? If not? Thanks! *bins*

Ah, musicians. You can message them at 2am and ask for a poster and they will be awake to layan.

A journey, different type of library, a kind of study group. A plan that took all day. Why didn’t we start this sooner? Nerds unite.

Sleep has been difficult the past few nights, and layered with complex, intense dreams.

I looked up and saw a low full moon. Another sky reached the metals below and created a sister constellation.

I decided to unwrite a dream two nights ago, and glimpses have flashed by since.

We drove home together after a large and comforting dinner. Bellies are easier to fill than hearts, make them warm. Words, music and friendship completed the journey.

Ugh πŸ™„

When I’m stressed, the blood goes whooshing by my ears.

An aura of authority that exudes from domination, distance and assholery is not actual authority. There is no room for growth.

  • JL: Did you order the cake for me
  • M: No I forgot sry 🀭
  • JL: One thing, Lainie. One thing.

It is good to be a snack. Just enjoy it.

The different ways to grieve, and remember. To cry until you’re empty. To stifle until the witnesses are gone. To create an endless order.

Aunty Dot used to take my hand, lead me into Lou Wong. The workers there like her. An available table would miraculously emerge. Sold out chicken became available. I only liked going there when I was with her.

Cigarette dangling from the side of your mouth, caftan flowing, standing in the aisle watching us come into your home and making us welcome.

Aunty Dot, you had the cheekiest grin. May you rest in peace.

  • Miss your room is twin sharing right?
  • Gasp? You don’t want to cuddle me?
  • No
  • Oh I’m gonna cuddle you tonight πŸ₯³
  • I’ll kick you out
  • Cuddle~
  • I’m a kicker. Why are you such a cuddler.
  • I’m made for cuddles.
  • Ugh I hate cuddling
  • πŸ₯³

Wish Daph could be here too so we could kick each other.

  • 不要ζ΅ͺθ΄Ήζˆ‘ηš„ζ—Άι—΄
  • δ»€δΉˆδΈœθ₯Ώ

I no longer enjoy the drive on the north south highway, but I had good company; a personal DJ too.

Drove to the wrong St Michael’s — the school, not the church. Girls think maybe I’ll get a husband after all.

A good dinner at the wrong restaurant. Conversations to fill the space. It is important that our selves be present. I learned this a bit later than I should have, but I’m grateful that I know this presence now.

Be grateful for the friendships I have. Rach and I bear witness to so much of each other, I am thankful for the love between us.

Energy

Completed my first week with three sessions of gym. PT says this is an improvement because I’m doing the equivalent of two weeks in one.

He asked how I was at the end of the session. “Good, doable”. It was a friendly conversation but it seemed like he was making note of that. Now I’m worried how much I’ll be doing in the next session. Because inside, I malas.

Still feeling the effects of blood donation. And I misplaced my iron tablets so πŸ€·πŸ»β€β™‚οΈ I guess I’ll just have less blood for a while.

Is it my imagination, or do I definitely feel a bit like some kind of afternoon tapau snack everytime we meet πŸ˜€

Direction. Strategising, campaigning, optimising, setting the trail of paper that needs to exist.

If only I believed in pahala, but I don’t. Let my tools become yours.

Maybe I should be stern more frequently, because it works. Saw an inch of independence today.

Left the window open and my cat slipped out. Couldn’t find her. Came home to find her skulking about the garden, fresh from god knows where. She didn’t recognise me πŸ˜’.

Maybe my mind is still too crowded. I had been half preparing myself to come home to a dead or missing cat.

I’m signed up for six (!?!?) projects. Did all the feminists disappear that I’m filling in these spaces.

A night of rest before I drive back to Ipoh tomorrow. A sad journey.

  • What can you do with dudes eh?
  • Become a lesbian.

SINCERE ADVICE.

Ah yes, my secret seduction move: memory loss.

I have been kidnapped by a woman and put in her house with two others (incl Z). I am more focussed on escape than the other two, who are distracted with work on their computer.

I start the car outside the house and they join me. I would have left without them otherwise.

The woman peers out as we are leaving, unconcerned. A barrier starts closing on us. I tell Z who is driving to push through it and though the barrier looks army regulation, it breaks apart easily.

We still have to get past the guardhouse but I think we will.

  • I am now 97% introverted
  • Aiyooooo

JFC how do I even have any friends.

Strategising. Who do we give power to, and where? Strangeness, timelines and cigarettes. Hormones vs diabetes.

You don’t always need a fist to get the punches in.

  • Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
  • Gangster sangat.
  • Memang

A follow up meeting tomorrow may be too soon, but also necessary.

  • Are you now the patron saint of the lost souls of 20 something tweenies
  • Ish
  • Truth hurts innit. Take that intj

How far I have come from the hedonism of my 20s. Evened out, stabilised. Kind of.

Startling realisation I’ve taken more time these days to consider which potato chips to buy, and whether or not to get Brie, than I have for some major life decisions back then.

I am glad for the space to be wild, connected.

Vegetarian food and alcohol in exchange for a whole bag of children’s books.

Slurred speech is a warning sign. One bag only in the future. Drugs and druggy sex. Conservatism and sobriety. Masculinity. Class divide in comedy and theatre. Will Kakak get it right or wrong? What can I convince a goody two shoes to do? Mood control, actively pushing a button in the mind.

Trans, genderqueer, gender fluid, non-binary. My friends are discovering themselves.

At the end of the workshop, people turn to leave. Some linger to talk. I seduce one of the visiting international arts people, a tall slim brown woman with curly hair in a colourful striped dress — Down something. First with words, and then soft kisses. Top of the tower. When I leave, I feel compelled to paint a table hanging in the air red — I wear a harness, it is precarious work. I try not to wake her. I get a blob of paint and it drops from the brush, two storeys down onto a black leather jacket thrown over a chair. There is some mess.

I have another woman, also tall, slim, darker brown, artistic with wavy hair. We recently met. I wonder if I should be sleeping with two near-strangers, maybe I should pick one. Down can kind of feel what I’m up to, she’s psychic that way. I can’t figure out if I like her enough to commit. She doesn’t really approve of what I’m up to. I am going to see her.

I run parkour down the staircase walls of the tower. I meet the workers downstairs, and ask where one of them is. The workers don’t really cooperate, but loosen up when I speak Malay. I tell them I’m looking for the young cleaner because I may have spilled red paint on her belongings just now, at her section. She needs to get to it to check. The workers are eating fried puffer fish with lauk and rice.

One of the women I’m seeing is an artist. I see pics of her work. Out on a sloping field, she lays large army green tarps as canvases, overlapping slightly. On it, smaller (?) and a thin rainbow stripe motif which I assume is a sexuality signifier. I think my next (commercial/sponsored) event could have huge rainbow staircase. An arena where every level is a colour stripe. A huge staircase down a long slope which I will paint rainbow.

I kind of think I am more attracted to Down, but I don’t want to let this opportunity with the other woman pass by. I am skulking around. Maybe I should look up Down online, see more about her. I kind of don’t want to either. Down might be younger. She has a long last name I can’t spell anyway, beginning with A and ending with many syllables.

Senaman Kehenseman

Lunch bersama manusia paling hensem di Malaysia. #makeithemsem

A 3-day gym week begins now. Donated blood semalam because itchy backside and never plan properly, simply join.

Felt it today. More fatigue. Eventual spurts of lightheadedness. My body is so easily cold today. Glucose dips were larger.

PT says it’s still a good session because he’s increased the intensity, and I ate nonsense pre-gym, and my wrist is sprained, but I still completed everything at a good pace.

It didn’t feel as positive though, because I pancit towards the last few sets.

(To be fair, I pancit every time it’s burpees.)

No more donating blood before gym days. I’m not cut out for it. Next gym day on Friday πŸ‘€

Trying to keep this week free and hold back the tides, despite the pile up happening. I need to take a break from being so overloaded at the hospital and their negligence/erratic schedule.

  • M: The bag you got me is falling apart
  • J: Don’t worry, I will get you a new one!
  • M: Can it be black please?
  • J: It will be pink!
  • M: I really like black, just putting it out there.
  • J: No! It will be pink, or pastel orange!
  • M: πŸ˜’

This crusade to femme me up sebab kelakar 😐. Whatmore my dreams of her can be seen as so butch.

Dragging my feet towards CNY.

  • M: Nice boots. Very butch.
  • S: That is exactly what you said to me the last time you saw them
  • M: I am forgetful and blur, but consistent.
  • S: Consistent is good. You’re sincere
  • M: From the heart 🀭

JK is driving a big dyke bike up the Berch highway. I am riding pillion and trying not to fall off. I am clinging on to the black leather strap at the end of the seat. My body is horizontal, I don’t think my butt even touches the seat. My feet planted on the footrest, my thighs gripping the seat.

She turns on the leftmost lane, where no cars are. She drops me off and I go into the house. I am aiming for my bed because I am dizzy. I go down the stairs into the next room. It’s like the SCK house but with more floors. I realise I came in from the other entrance, my dizziness discombobulated me. So I’ve run through my room first, and into the kitchen instead.

Chi has seen me run in and laughs. I u-turn back to my room and run to my bed, where I collapse face down on some things I do not bother to clear away. JK is grinning at me because she knows I’m fine and she got to drive as she pleases. She asks me why I left (?) on her bed. There were two, and she’s sure one must be for her. Neither are, I explain. Terletak. But I have drugs instead if she wants. We are talking and making noise.

I am at home in my commune. We are all home. I leave JK and chi behind.

There is a main round table at the dining/conference area where I had put my stuff to chup, but while I was talking with JK some ppl dap toi and one person had put her things down right next to both of ours (bright pink plastic bag) and another old person in front of us.

I am talking and making noise. Misln and Dav from the next commune shout across the alley at me to keep quiet. I am upset but manage my feelings. I tell my housemates I am going to talk to them. I hope it doesn’t become a hostile confrontation but do not discount it might.

I cross the alley where one other person I know is. She gives me a rundown — there has been some animal abuse. The stray dogs from the next commune shelters were abused. Also (?) is upset because she was yelled at by her housemates (includes BSL). They had wanted to sleep in by 8pm, after commune spotcheck.

By 11 she came home to their room, the noise waking the two up. She’s done it before but they’ve not lost temper like this. Her feelings are hurt. She is with the calmer and nicer housemate. I ask this Chinese housemate if she regrets behaving this way to her friend. She says yes. I turn to my friend and say see, she is sorry for yelling at you. And I let them talk about coming home late. There is compromise, acknowledgement this is not how things go. i see she yelled at me because she was emotional about this. Misl!

I manja the dog. It really likes me. I think about how the next time I donate it should go to the shelter because this dog needs it. The neighbour tells me it fought. A small puppy emerges, the other dog’s kid.

Then I go to the next table under an umbrella. Tell her we know each other, what’s up. Why you yell? dav talks about her boyfriend / husband. She says I’ve slept with him more times than she has.

I’m not sure how that’s possible because I’ve only done it twice and they’re at it all the time. I wonder if it’s a misunderstanding or a complicated thing. There is a guessing game where she cannot guess the number (?).

She talks about the dog being abused which really upset her. I examine the box of my meds. No blood on them which means I didn’t bleed on them (?). She smiles and we hug. I realise she can’t help who she is. Also now I feel better.

Taiwanese oil to lubricate our door also makes it wheelchair unfriendly.

I am trying to help the conference. At first, I’m an excellent nearly-PA. There are some politicians there who notice me, but I ghost them. The event running smoothly is important to me. Politicians coming after me with praise or opportunity is counterintuitive.

But the last two sessions aren’t going as well. I am trying to cut ham and cheese and arrange crackers but the cheeses in the bag don’t look so good anymore by the end of the day, and not everyone can eat ham.

The event is taking place in another room, I am at the back in the courtyard trying to arrange the food, holding fanned out slices of ham in my hands. I may dislike these politicians but I still want them to have a good experience in this conference (forgot how i am related to conference).

I run to an opening and I see a small green coconut on the floor. A Chinese character is carved onto it, along with a diamond frame. There is a thick and short white fuse, it’s lit. Oh shit, a coconut bomb? I run. I see many more coconut bombs, fuses lit. There are also coconut bombs above me in the trees. I realise the conference is coming to an end, my ham cheese dilemma isn’t relevant anymore, and the bombs are fireworks set to go off as finale. I sprint.

I am in a car. We are approaching some shoplots.

I walk up the long and rainy staircase in my wedding dress. I hope I don’t slip. My husband might be gallant and sweep me off my feet, but the stairs is precarious. I hurry as I can so he doesn’t get any ideas about the attempt.

A dance studio is up on the 2nd/3rd floor. People I know are there.

I enter the door. A gay guy I know is conducting social dance classes for the people who remain behind for the conference. I look properly, eh, it’s JK in a blue sweater with blue rim glasses. She is sitting on wooden steps that run along the dance floor.

I get into the Hall. Greet some people. My husband might be joining us. Maybe he’ll stay in the car. I’m okay with either.