December 31, 2017

This afternoon the world’s most holiest man told me that he had accomplished a miraculous feat. He has just finished memorizing his holy book and can recount every single word unfailingly. Holy man went on to tell me, this would make him a spiritual giant.

I told him, I happen to know of a blue color parrot who can memorise and recount every single name and number from a thick telephone book…the parrot is so spiritually powerful it can even fly around the room and do this at the same time.

Can you do the same?

The world’s holiest man ran away.


‘Being spiritually whole and complete may or may not include the idea of the creator. I feel the need to state my opinion clearly on this subject as some crazy people will tell that it is not possible to accomplish spiritual maturity without the idea of religion or believing in a creator.

This is pure nonsense….poison!

The only reason why I say this is simply because from my personal observations….spiritualism has nothing whatsoever to do with what you choose to believe or disbelieve….it has nothing to do with schools of thoughts or even states of mind or even whether you know these things well or know it not.

That is knowledge and it should never be confused with spiritualism that is a form of wisdom.

Instead spiritualism has more to do with one’s state of consciousness. That is to say one’s capacity to understand things, events and people for what and who they really are and not what others may say they might be….this consciousness that is the capacity to understand is what gives it power over mere knowledge.’

The power of awareness

December 31, 2017

Some time back ago I went for a business meeting. At some point I realised it was a trap. Naturally I did not let the other side know that I know….I listened and even made the best effort to remain convivial and come across as agreeable….reasonable….and interested.

I did not resist….I simply played right on like a fish taken by the hook, line and sinker.

In the days following the meeting…the line went slack…there was no more sensation of pull any longer from the other side. Of course they tried very hard…..but none.

It is accurate to say the fish must have worked it’s way out of the hook and slipped away.

How it did so….no one it seems quite knows.


‘When you walk into a room. The first thing that hits everyone is the power of your awareness. For some people their power is like rusty radar that is manned by an operator who is there but actually somewhere else. Since he has taken a mental holiday from himself – so the level of awareness registers very little.

For others since they constantly in a mental state of perpetual embattlement with the power and politics of their smart phones….their radar is permanently swarmed by white noise. So they are likely not to register anything at all. Even if an atomic bomb explodes next to them, they will not know.

But when you are there you are there – it’s like driving a car. Most people when they drive are subconsciously having a conversation with themselves without even realising. They are replaying many scenes that once transpired in the movie theatre in their head…they may well be looking out of the windscreen, but their attention is focused on this other movie….or maybe th y are reliving some incident from the past….so while they are physically there. They are really somewhere else.

But when a person practises total awareness. And this is term that the English vocabulary and the western school of thought lacks an adequate word to describe. In the way of the sword, it is described as Zanshin.

Zanshin is not just being all there….it is much more than that.

I will talk about this more.’

Chakey’s Serangoon Salt Baked Chicken is set to close this Sunday. Well may not seem like a big deal the way I wrote it……then again maybe we should take a moment to reflect. I mean, if we go thru the bother to dig up and sieve for trinkets and broken earthen ware from the distant past of Singapore just to fashion a vantage to look back….In presumably a hope to gain a better understanding of the past.

This should prompt anyone to ask. At the rate at which so many traditional food stalls have been closing down lately due to high rent, retiring proprietors, difficulty in attracting apprentices, changing taste etc etc…..shouldn’t the director of museums in Singapore be taking active measures to preserve these food outlets….coming to think of it why isn’t food treated with the same veneration as a precious vase…why?

To me this is odd.

If archeologist can take every effort to reconstitute a tile right down to its original color, texture and feel just so that people today and feast on it with their eyes. Why can’t the same be done for food that naturally appeals to our sense of smell and taste.

Maybe to slow down the pace of extinct food. The museum people should consider doing further research on these sort of food and recategorised as heritage food so that they can be promoted as a must taste for tourist or get some economic protection from greedy landlords to stop them from increasing their rental unreasonably….at least doing something is better than just doing nothing and letting them rot into the obscurity of history.


‘I can’t begin to explain how powerful food is to the idea of how we truly see ourselves in relation to people and planet and the broader subject of psychology. It’s a construct that is really very big and hard to pin down. Of course I am not talking about fast food like a Big Mac or Dunkin donut. Rather when I speak about food in this context, it’s real and not fast food, it’s not prepared by kids who are just taking a summer job flipping burgers so that they can save up and see the world….it’s cooked slowly and it seems to be framed in the house kitchen where we usually associate it with someone who we once loved and loved us in return.

The imagery is not only very powerful….but it can also serve as a touchstone to awaken something in all of us.

Many years ago in a refugee camp deep in Africa. There was a boy who no one could get thru to – not even the experts. They couldn’t even make a dent. The boy seemed to be marooned in his own skull. They tried everything from Swahili to Khufuh….nothing. All they knew about him was he might have been a child soldier.

One day I got hold of a sack of hard as stones wild corn kernels from the market. They’re deep indigo blue and they don’t taste any where sweet like the NTUC variety. I pounded it mixing it with raw palm kernels and kneaded it into a naan sort of dough, splayed it out roughly and lashed with rabbit entrails and made a stew with the meat. As that is how it’s done and fired it by wrapping it around the open engine of a running Land Rover in the courtyard. All the while I lashed it fermented palm oil and that smoked the entire courtyard with a pungent yet strangely nutty delicious aroma….and soon the boy walked up, smile and he spoke for the very first time since he had come there……may I have some please…..that just goes to show you food can do many wonderous things….but one of the most beautiful things it can do is to bring people who would otherwise be like distant stars scattered across the vast infinity of space together.’

Throwing out yourself!

December 30, 2017

A man once tried very hard to free his trapped mind, but despite all his efforts, he couldn’t break free. One day out of sheer frustration. He decided to reject all states of mind along with schools of thoughts on how to break free.

In his act of repudiation for everything he had known and come to probably know about the act of breaking free…it seemed he must have thrown away so much of himself that nothing about who he was ever existed
……that was when he suddenly realised…. his mind was free.

Constructive ambiguity

December 29, 2017

Not very long ago. I was approached by a group of landowners concerning a land deal. During the meeting I made it clear that I am definitely interested. I even leaned over to one of them to whisper certain payment arrangements….

After that I did not follow up….I showed absolutely no interest in pursuing the matter….it was as if it never ever happened.


‘Constructive ambiguity is a term generally credited to Henry Kissinger, said to be the foremost exponent of the negotiating tactic it designates. It refers to the deliberate use of ambiguous language on a sensitive issue in order to advance some political purpose. Constructive ambiguity is a form of disinformation and misdirection often used to disorientate and confuse the enemy. It can be used to create cognitive dissonance that has the effect of paralysing the enemy due to the inflood of contradictory information.’

What is a good religious man?

December 27, 2017

It cannot be how much he knows. Because what he knows may not be right or for that matter good for everyone. It certainly cannot be how many times he prays either or how well he remembers his chants and verses. As even a parrot can do all that. If there is such a thing as a true measure of what is a good religious man….it must be how his enemies regard him. If they look upon him as someone who they believe, they want to aspire to be….then I think that person has to be a very good religious man.


‘To my understanding. All religions are first and foremost premised on love, compassion and thoughtfulness. So for me the right way to asses whether a person is a good or bad religious man is to simply ask – how loving, compassionate and thoughtful is he to people and planet? In my opinion the other things matter very little…they are optional and side dishes like whether he can walk on water or thru walls. Well that at least is how I have always seen it. It is after all my personal opinion.’

This is an excellent vid that teaches you how to make Chicken soup. So that you can serve with noodles or congee. Chicken soup is very important. For me it’s a sort of emergency food. As when one falls sick or is recovering. This is the only thing that the body can hold down without throwing out.

Man shouted out in an anguished tone, the Mother of all tyhpoons is going to hit Vietnam and it’s tail is likely to bring excessive rains to these parts. It seems he has been surfing the internet the whole night worried sick.

I advised him not to surf the internet so much…..be calm.


‘I am not saying thinking per se is bad. In fact I regularly encourage it. As I believe the mind is not so different from a muscle group. When the mind is exercised regularly only then can it perform to serve reliably. But there is a big difference between constructive and excessive thinking.

Excessive thinking is when the mind runs amok….thought after thought are piled one of top of another and served up fast and furious to the mind. Often excessive thinking goes everywhere till it settles on a few doom and gloom scenarios (real and imagined) that keeps repeating itself on autoplay mode….I don’t mind admitting. I have a tendency to fall into this mind trap. Where the mind begins to form a vicious loop very much in a way a cat chases its own tail. If I have a chest pain…I think it’s cancer. It could well be a thousand other things, but since cancer is the worst of them all…the excessively thinking mind renders it realer real. At other times these negative thoughts go round and round and all the while it gathers momentum and strength, till the insignifacnt, implausible and ridiculous destroys all traces of reality along with sound judgement.

Good or what I like to call thinking in moderation is the opposite of a mind that is jumping here, there and everywhere like a monkey…..often thoughts are merely treated very much as fleeting scenes. They come and go. Don’t try to restrict them. As that is not possible. And even if that can be done. It will require so much effort that it only drive you to exhaustion.

Instead just watch them all unfold in the movie screen in your mind without the need to judge or cling to them…just watch them go right by without clinging to them in such a way where you may feel fearful and anxious….as I said earlier, it is not easy for me to remind myself to do this whenever I find myself thinking excessively….perhaps by writing about it here. I will be reminded to think only moderately without being to clingy.’

The meaning of Courage

December 25, 2017

I think this is a word that is so often confused with acts that have nothing whatsoever to do with courage…the problem seems to be we do not have the wisdom eyes to see….but once our eyes are open with the power of understanding. Then it is easy to make out this word even in ordinary day to day living.


‘Courage in my opinion should ideally be a very small word for very small people who harbor small dreams like striving to make a better tomorrow for those who they love. Courage to be at least is not usually be a big word for larger than life deeds like storming a machine gun post for king and country. Or even chalking up the number of bone crunching mountains once summitted. Courage has to be a very small word as it is not usually to be found in the redux Hollywood version of what the movie industry regularly markets to the unassuming as courage. That’s because those acts lack the terror of repetition. They all have a defined start and end. One can’t fight after the last shot has rented out. Neither can one climb beyond the summit…they all hold out the Kistch promise of the classic Hollywood ending complete with redemption, resolution and it all ended happily thereafter. The end.

The highest quality of courage is to be found in the ordinariness of living. As here there is no promise of redemption or that it may all even end well….it is just the terror of a road that stretches right on and on. A frightening litany where there is no such thing as a start or end line… each day in this terrifying ordinariness comes and goes with hardly any perceptible changes. Except that you may have noticed one extra white hair or that it’s time to get more toothpaste. It is in the ordinariness of living that requires the highest degree of selflessness, thoughtfulness and consideration…the mother of an autistic child who dares to hope against all odds that one day her child will awaken despite the cruel stares from the ignorant she tries to fashion some semblance of world for her child….the uncomplaining Father who holds down two shift jobs despite having to deal with an evil boss, so that his kids can have an opportunity for a better tomorrow. The humble salaried man who summons uncommon valor to venture into business, not to slake his ego. But because he can read the writing on the wall and has the courage to shed his fears and reinvent himself so that he can be a tongue of light to those who rely on him as the sole breadwinner. The forgotten soldier posted to the outereaches of the Great Wall to guard against marauders, but he keeps his discipline razor sharp by being ever ready to spring into action. As he knows should his line break on his shift, it would mean endless grief for the nation. The technician who goes the extra mile to do a first class job instead of handing it over to the next shift…as he understands the Mission that it all starts and ends with only him. The frontier man who can never return home as there is not enough fuel for the return trip. It’s a one way ticket. But despite the terrible conditions he makes the best of it with a cheerful heart as best he can – as he is a man with a Mission and failure is not an option.

True courage is to be found in the ordinariness of everyday living. One just has to open ones eyes and heart to make it out….it is not to be found in the flash bang of sensationalism or heroic figures who are larger than life…that is an illusion.

Merry Christmas to all of you, the courageous folk wherever you may be….trust me when I say one day all your efforts, sacrifices and hard work will not be vain…it will all come full circle and you will smile.’

The ghost of Christmas

December 25, 2017

I happen to believe the beginning of maturity is when we step aside and let those we love be perfectly themselves. That’s to say we have a resolution not to bang them into shape to fit our own idea of what the world should be.

If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their likeness that mirror ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them….that’s just terribly selfish.’


‘I can’t pin down exactly when I started associating Christmas with my personal embattlement to connect with civilization. It could have started when I first turned the wheel of life here as a farmer eight years ago. I remember making an effort to be part of the Christmas spirit on the first year. I told myself, it would be good for you! I fashioned a rather impossible yet passable looking Christmas tree with dried twigs. It looked good when lighted provided one doesn’t look to closely at it. Cooked myself a proper meal and even got plastered. Mostly single malt whisky. I could remember being deeply distressed by my apartness from everything that I’ve always associated with Christmas. That feeling gradually sharpened with the passing of every year and gave way to a quiet acceptance that I am really quite unsuitable to the air of Christmas celebration.

The break probably came one Christmas night. I can’t remember when precisely, could be on my fourth or was it the fifth year. That night I decided to slip into the darkness of the jungle to hunt. I trekked all the way up to the mountains by moonlight. At the very top I looked out on an almost surreal scene, shards of indigo moon beams illimunated the nearby ferns that I knew to be my world. To the far distance over the curl of the shoulder of distant hills. The lights of the city swelled just enough to make out that other world which I once belonged too. I remembered being mesmerised by the quality of the light. It was very silent, eireely beautiful…I remember the air tasted of cloves. Yet what hit me most profoundly at that moment of intense solitude was not that I yearned to be part of that distant world of pulsing light, but the awakening realisation that I can no belong there any longer.

Christmas in years thereafter developed into a sort of itchy sweater. One wears it only because it’s decent. But it’s discomfort always reminds one…you’re exiled. I loathe it’s approach so much I even brought Christmas Day forward by three whole weeks in an attempt to desecrated it in the way the derange would declare their kitchen a protectorate. Or their lavatories a sovereign state complete with a towel flag, and when the day fell as it always did on the 25th – all it seemed to be able to inspire in me was hopelessness. I felt marooned in the finality of realization I was damaged goods, condemned to always to look at Christmas from the outside in and all I could do was hunker down and wait for it to pass like some evil comet.

In the years that followed Christmas gradually lost it’s fragile hold on me, it’s a season that doesn’t seem to quite fit into my life any longer – I work in place where no one either celebrates or cares to remember Christmas. The few friends I have are to faraway. Besides the line is always lousy and to even bother to try connecting. I did at one time convince myself I had to try harder to return home to the convivial, warm-hearthed gatherings and reunions that was Christmas. But the gravity of the wild exerted such a pull on me that as soon as I made plans to return home. I would be filled with morbid anxiousness and guilt that I have to stay…and the wild always won. Perhaps…maybe my militant refusal to return home had more to do with my repressed conviction that all it would ever do was to serve as a reminder of all the different ways in which I can no longer fit into urbana Singapore.

It’s conceivable. I may gone way too far off the razor’s edge. So far that I cannot seem to retrace my steps. Maybe. I Lanced all of my will of power, spirit and soul into what I consider to be the singularity of the holy sanctity of my hill of beans mission. Maybe that squeezed out everything else…Christmas included….only for the wild to fill that no man’s land of emptiness between yearning and unfulfilled desires…with all its terrifying green constancy….fingering….permeating and transforming my very essence of being irrevocably into a rather curious caricature of who I used to be. Someone who can only look on at perfidious faced revellers thru my looking glass, the internet with a mix of curiosity and what I can only describe as aching estrangement that only serves to confirm the finality of my disease.

A remnant of who I used to be, knows of that world, but like the mystical lights of the city seen from the distance of untouched mountains….it’s so very far. A star. Not just any star, but one that’s fixed so far in one corner of the universe that the light streaming out of it could well be the final crie de couer of a star that has long cooled, shrivelled up into a blacken cinder and extinguished forever. I tore away from it in embarrassment like a man who remembers yet doesn’t. Grasping at straws…summoning all that’s familiar in vain…..always from the detachment offered by the abyss of distance…like a soul who belongs to the wild.

Merry Christmas.’

Merry Christmas 2017

December 24, 2017

It has not rained here for the last twenty days. On record this is the driest December in recorded history. By the looks of it, it will not rain for a very long time. As a tropical cyclone is brewing just off the South China seas and by the looks of it, it has enough energy to keep going for the next week or maybe two weeks. The weather is likely to be very cold whenever a cyclone appears. As this will interfere with regular monsoon winds and draw freezing cold air from the interior of the Gobi desert to our region.

Maybe it’s time to wear a jumper early in the morning. That would be a welcome change to the hot weather we have been experiencing for the last two weeks.

Merry Christmas all and a happy new year.

I often think of all of you back at the Homefront in Singapore.

Contract Girlfriend declared her love for me. I told her, it is not that you love me. Rather it is fear that drives you to me. Fear that age is catching up…fear that up to now you still don’t have a plan B on how to live the other half of your life on your own terms…fear that you will not be able to make it safely to the other side without someone who is more mature, financially stable and worldly beside you…fear is what actually drives you to me.

I am so sorry but it is not love that you have for me….please see deeply into your heart and you will know that I am right.


‘It is a common misconception to believe everyone can love and be loved in return. I say it is ‘common’ and a ‘misconception’ because the subject of love is perhaps the most misunderstood concept in the world. Since it is rarely ever discussed at lenght or depth. If you ask me. This has to be very odd because if you go to YouTube, there are people who will teach you how to spot fake from real news to even how to conduct your own experiment in the kitchen to tell the difference between real and plastic rice. But no one if you notice ever bothers to sit you down to share his or her view on what is real or false love. Not even your pastor, priest or even parents!

If this is not five Chili strange…I really don’t know what is. Everyone it seems to assume everyone already knows what love is….and that is the tragedy of our age. That is why so many relationships start only to fizzle out…that is also why there are so many divorces.

Wonder no more why most people don’t know what is love…..the funny thing is without knowing more about it that doesn’t seem to stop enormous numbers of people from searching for love.

So now we are in a very curious position in society. Most people don’t know what love actually is, but since they think they know what it is or maybe they believe the other side knows more about it – so they go into it!

This is how ignorance works. The less people know about a thing. The more stubbornly they hold on to it.

So let me share with you my personal version of what is and is not love and maybe you decide for yourself whether it makes sense. It first has to begin with knowing yourself. If you do not know who you really are, you cannot be in love. You only have the illusion that you are in love. That is why I often tell people who don’t know who they are…better you avoid love completely, don’t go there and just devote all your time to the scramble club or playing Pokemon Go.

Because if you don’t know who you really are. You will fear and fear will drive you to seek the worse possible version of what you believe to be love that will ultimately lead to suffering and unfulfilled yearnings.

Fear is the perfect mirror opposite of love. Hate is not the opposite of love, as most believe. Hate has nothing whatsoever to do with love.

The true opposite of love is actually fear. And that is why fear is perfect destroyer of love. As when one seeks love in fear. That love can never expand and grow, in fear love between two people can only die. It is like slow acting poison.

In fear self doubt will creep in, it is only a matter of time, even in the best relationships…it will… that is why fearful people in love are always clingy. They all without exception Velcro people…always want you to be beside them like their favorite side table. Furniture…to be there. Always. That is why insecure and fearful men look for level headed girls so that they can put their Tiger Beer and crackers on while they watch Football on TV. They will never dare to go for girls who can commune with their minds…that they fear most…real relationships. So they settle instead for furniture. A prosthetic.

In fear one doubts. One can only. However in love one trusts. In fear one equates separation and distance as a form of suffering. A form of virtual reality. In love separation is never an issue; in fear there is a need to posses and control and regulate to fashion the other person to be your God of the ideal. In love there is no need to posses, it is about appreciation, no control is necessary, it is about freedom. In fear there are endless expectations based on what must come to past in the future. In love there is no expectation as there is no need to control your other half in such a way where you would even need them to make you whole and complete…..you are already complete without your other significant half…so what is there to put in a box …that is the difference between love and fear.’

Sandbox politics

December 23, 2017

I can understand if people talk like that in the changing room in the gym or if they’re having a drink in some bar in nowherevilles, where no one either knows them or cares to remember their car plates….but to talk like this at this level of the game in the world stage…well that takes the cake lah!

The American people by and large are fine, upstanding and worthy bunch…they deserve much better than what’s currently served up at KFC.


‘People have asked me why don’t you want Singapore to get close to the US. They call me all sorts of nasty names everything ranging from conspiracist to a downright anarchist….but look. Now I am not going to say, ‘I told you so!’ Well actually I am in a round about sort of way. As it bears repeating only because it’s so true – I’ve said many times at the rate the current Trump administration is haemorrhaging good will, influence and its capacity to come across as a rational mover and shaker in the world. Any country that is allied to her will just go right down the chute….best to take a seat and watch it all go by without ever saying a word.’

Contract Girlfriend told me she plans to learn this and that and after that she also wants to learn this and that other thing. She looked at me for an opinion….I told her – you should seriously enrol yourself into the university of unlearning. She exclaimed. Is there such a university?

I replied, probably not…but there should be.


‘It is often said a man of knowledge tries to learn something new everyday. But a wise man tries to unlearn something useless everyday. I like this phrase as not only is it very simple and poignant. But also very true as well. As when we consider deeply what are things that really hold us back, it is not usually the things we do not know. Rather it is the many useless thoughts, habits and assumptions that we usually harbor about people, events and everything else in this world.

For example if we can unlearn that happiness doesn’t come from constantly distracting ourselves with mindlessly shopping for things that we don’t really need and simply reclaim the idea of leading a simple life….then lives will be enhanced. If we can unlearn the programming that the world has subconsciously imposed on us and rid ourselves of the corrosive knowledge that to be successful we need to be like this and that and simple centre ourselves to be who we are really meant to be. Then again our lives would be immeasurably enhanced.

Regrettably it is the idea of unlearning that is always given the least priority. Neither is it easy to unlearn either. It is very easy to write about, but putting it into the practice is yet another story. The moment you try to unlearn something your mind will turn against you. Yes, there is a conspiracy happening upstairs.

As a result of this difficulty to unlearn, we usually end up pilling new knowledge on top of layers of old encrusted knowledge that can only leach like blotting paper and ultimately destroy whatever we have learnt….only a fool tries to pour more into a full cup. A wise man on the other hand empties and cleans it and only then does he pour more.’

Most meat based spaghetti come across as cardboardish and one dimensional. It’s a nightmare for me to go out for spaghetti. As I can cook much better.

To add depth and flavor to your meat sauce I am going to share a professional kitchen secret.

After sautéing your garlic and onions in oil and adding the meat. Cook the meat for five minutes after that add a coffee mug of puréed chicken liver (you can do this by putting whole liver in a blender). I know it sounds yucky…but trust me on this. You wouldn’t be able to taste a trace of the liver. I promise. This will give the meat sauce a three dimensional depth of flavour.

Then you do whatever you need to do….because I am sure you have your own meat sauce recipes, but if you don’t drop me a note in the comment box and I will give you mine, the scratch and Super fast version.

After you have finished cooking the meat sauce and it’s simmering nicely. Take two tablespoons of Thai fish sauce and add it to the sauce and stir well. I know this sounds absolutely crazy. Because you’re probably wondering what does Thai fish sauce have to do with spaghetti Ragu or bolognaise. But again trust me. As this is a commercial kitchen secret that is frequently used in most Italian restaurants – the science behind is the fish sauce is an astringent and that removes the goopy texture that is due to the use of melted cheese in all spaghetti sauces. Instead of coming across as thick and heavy, what you will get is a meatier sauce that doesn’t feel too heavy and it spoons very well.

To recap two things. The liver five minutes after the minced beef, pork or chicken has gone in and at the end, two tablespoons of fish sauce.

Hunting the hunter

December 21, 2017

I have to hunt down the birdnest cat burglar before everyone thinks it’s me. I know why no one ever sees him. He travels only by bicycle in darkness thru the labyrinth of plantation of roads and never uses the heavily trafficked trunk or main roads. He doesn’t ride a rotiman black bicycle…the tire marks suggest it’s performance threads…he rides very fast as the edges of the marks are scurried. He’s athletic and doesn’t shy from risk…some drop offs are over ten feet…he just flies above it all. A professional mountain cyclist.

This is no ordinary slipper thief.

He knows the art of war along with junglecraft. He rides only parallel to the axis of palms even if it takes him further and longer. Only planters would know this. As the moon will cast least shadows along this axis allowing him to proceed without lights and since old fronds are not lined along this axis, he can ride very fast. To do this he would need to turn the bezel of his sports watch to the three o’clock position and use it as a tachymeter. This would allow him to count off the trees and calculate the distance and speed…so we know he wears a divers watch with bezel.

Early this morning. I found the remnants of his camp. It was about three days old. Judging from the set up, he is very accustomed to living for prolonged periods in the jungle. He is proficient in weaving ropes from dry reeds. He curls the edges instead of cutting them to stop them from fraying and slips the ends neatly into a fashioned pocket, the way African sailors set their lines…they call it the devils knot as this was how slaves were once tied during the Atlantic wars….he’s worked in Africa before. But that is quite a common credential even amongst planters here.

He hunts. With what I can’t quite make out. He keeps the camp fire smokeless and without light by only using hard wood embers, that means he probably knows the art of invisibility. He sleeps on the tree tops by fashioning a hammock out of fresh fronts to stop them from creaking. His trail went cold by the river edge. It’s been dry for the last eighteen days, it’s turned into a creek, it’s pointless to try to track him beyond this point.

But the man has left a clue. No! Correction. It must have been deliberately left to be discovered. Two mini fridge bottles of Hennessy nicely balanced on a curved river stone next to a neat pile of freshly deshelled wild quail eggs. He must have taken a dip here before he changed and transformed back to his life. He cooked a french omelette by the river, very slowly and meticulously in a manner that suggest he was certainly home free, kicked his heels and watched the magnificent sun rise and washed it all down ever so slowly with the satisfaction of a fox who had just successfully curtained another raid. This was his big give away. A secret chapter that only a man who strives to get into the mind of what he hunts can decipher – a man of self rigid controlled soul who broke free from his moorings. The two mini bottles of brandy during breakfast were his prostitutes. His equivalent of the illicit thrill. A symbol of his defiance. As he emptied them. The man must felt something resembling arousal. He allowed himself at that very moment to feel the heat rising while the seconds allotted melted like ice to the creeping sun…..always trying to prolong that strangeness of feeling that swelled so suddenly in him, as if by doing so, he could some how stave off the sudden otherness of his other life that he had to return to. Yes those two mini bottles, they were his prostitutes…his metaphoric release from his corseted life of rituals, status and position. Soon thereafter his eyes would change and he would shed his skin as the cat burglar and forget completely the things he did and saw the night before, it would disappear forever in his other life when the sun rose… never to be spoken of again….I can go into his mind. I closed my eyes to see thru his – the slant of a shard of sunlight on an emerald fern, the sweet repose of a trickle of water on stone, rapping flight of birds, the nobility of mountains sliced in half by shadows and light and above all silence of the silence of just knowing that you are free.

I can understand….I can understanding even without judging it for what it is and what I imagine it must be.

There is to much poetry and sentimentality in this mysterious man. But I digress. This is what I know him.

The man wears a diver’s watch…he spent considerable field time in Africa…he’s athletic…he’s a technical climber proficient in the use of mountaineering devices and suffers from an incorrigible urge to escape his corsetted life of respectability which would probably make him a member of the aristocracy of the landowning gentry.

Nothing stands out, I am afraid. It could really be the profile of anyone and everyone. Could perhaps even be me….

Contract Girlfriend told me she is saving up to buy the latest iPhone by eating Maggi Mee every day. I asked her why do you need such an advanced phone, do you work for NASA designing rockets? Are you Ivanka Trump? Do you need to tweet six million times a day. Then I told her all you do is stand around cars from ten in the mall till closing time…she said, but all my friends have one.

That I told her is the problem.


‘The moment you start feeding the ego. You are in deep shit. Because unbeknown to even you. You have started to worship a great god of self delusions. Now this is not a fairytale water walking god or even a god who can walk thru a brick wall. This is a very real god. And like all crooked gods, it will always ask for more…and more and more.

You are not stupid! I don’t have to point out the obvious – you can make out very clearly who are worshippers of the ego god. All you have to do is look around and you will see an enormous number of people praying day and night to this good for nothing god. They do it in an infinitely number of ways. Everything from searching for their mana in materialism to accumulating prestige just to feed to their obese ego.

And if you don’t give in to the demands of the ego God. He will blackmail you. He will press your hot buttons. This he knows how to do very expertly and usually he will win hands down.

So do you see the vicious cycle? And it begins the very moment you feed your ego.

That is why whenever you can starve the ego of all manner of sustenance….and you will find it very difficult in the beginning to do this because there so worshippers who will tell you, you are crazy. Even your own girl friend will turn against you by threatening to find another man when you tell her, you no longer want to attend the church of the ego god – but you must be resolute – do not feed him!

Once the ego dies only then can the real man or woman be reincarnated and he or she can only see the world clearly without any illusions.

It is only when we can see the world without the slightest trace of illusions and abberation can we dedicate all ourselves to worthy, noble and great things and not waste so much of our lives to meaningless 5 cents trivial pursuits that only lead us astray.’

The bird nest cat burglar

December 20, 2017

Starting in March this year when the price of birdnest ratcheted up. One by one every bird house has been sacked where I turn the wheel of life. It seems to be the handiwork of only one man.

(1) He uses a grappling hook with rope to scale birdhouse. He seems to be comfortable with heights.

(2) He strikes only on a moonless night, which suggest he is accustomed to using specialised night vision goggles.

(3) He seems to be able to neutralise alarms and even CCTV’s don’t seem to be able to capture his image. It’s possible he has access to electronic jamming equipment.

(4) He can neutralise guard dogs.

Increasingly I am coming under suspicion as the mysterious cat burglar. As only my birdhouse has not been hit….