The 11th House

Welcome to the 11th House. The number 11 signifies the completion of one life cycle. The gift of truth and clarity is symbolized by this number. At the 11th House, we can manifest our destinies as we embark on the journey of the spirit warrior. The root of all evil is ignorance...but perhaps with a bit of insight, and loving-kindness we can alleviate the pain of a broken spirit or disturbed mind.

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Name: Michele Koh
Location: Singapore, Singapore

Michele is a 30 year-old journalist and the author of "Rotten Jellybeans" , a semi-autobiographical collection of short stories. Her book is available at Amazon.com and Chipmunkapublishing.co.uk. You can view an interview with Michele at http://www.whohub.com/hplm2009

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Tickle Me Pink


Tickle me pink
Said the girl with the shaven head

I am tougher than the boys in the cage
The boys who send you out
To filch cigarettes from strangers
And lift miniature bottles of cologne from the shops

She went a roaming one day
And got lost on the way

Tickle me pink
Said the girl with the shaven head
Who found in the jungle
The cold, large metal cage

Inside the cage were boys so fair
So pretty, so slim, with only underwear

Tickle me pink, she giggled and stared
At those handsome, sexy young men in their underwear


Give us a fag luv,
And cover us in expensive perfume
We’re so pretty, said the boys, prettier than you

There were many male bodies cramped in the cage
Metal and cold, they made the girl’s hormones rage

Tickle me pink
Such a sight never was seen
All these pretty boys in their underwear


Some of the boys had lizard eyes
Some of the boys had talons for hands

Some of the boys had hooves for feet
Some of the boys had the tongue of a viper

Some of the boys had scorpion tails
And all of the boys had snakes between their thighs

The caged boys pouted and preened
Tickle me pink, I want to get in

So the girl shaved off her hair and took of her shirt
So maybe she’d fit in

But there were no vipers or lizards under her skirt

Only breasts,
Failing guts
And a heart that beat too fast

Slip through the cage
You’ll get used to the cold metal
Come play a game of cards luv
Actually, just kiss our backs and watch the game
Give us a fag and don’t tell us your name

The girl with the shaven head pondered a while
She cared not about the talons
and fangs and tails and wings

The boys were handsome handsome with the prettiest eyes
Deep, sad glassy rainbow eyes, with the liveliest smiles
Naked skin, soft, smooth and taut
Lips that looked like they would make her hair grow back

The girl with the shaven head slid through the bars
To join those strange and heavenly creatures

And they ate her alive, heart, liver, spleen, eyeballs and all

Had their cigarettes
Put on more cologne
And played a game of cards

Tickle me pick
Said the girl who was dead

I still think I’m tougher
Than the boys in the cage

Copyright, November 28, 2007, Michele Koh

Trading Giblets

Trading giblets……google it
Trip detected
Manifestated crudelites……google it
Jammy pammy, suck their mammies
Let me rammy, the goose up your wamy

The god of fur
Plah plah…dribbles in my ear
Let the guards who hold my temple safe
Pour out their juicy filth

And lick my disgrace

Din, din, tell ‘em nothing

Why make such noise?
The whores can do it

Why show my mind, cos the pigs implore it?
Why state my case, cos the snakes adore it?
Why choose a cause?

So the hunter can slit my throat?

Kill the roachy coach

My soul gets herpefied, by the giggled numb……ha ha, ha… ha ha…two-faced, five-assed swine.

But bacon be bacon, so I’ll pearlify… the two-faced, five-assed swine. For the bacon I be raken, less I end up broke and bakin’

Why cheapen meaning with words?
Why say something
Rrrrr Rump, hump pumping

Din din, tell ‘em nothing

Trip detected
Manifestated crudelites……google it
Jammy pammy, suck their mammies
Let me rammy, the goose up your wamy

The god of fur
Plah plah plah…dribbles in my ear
Let the guards who hold my temple safe
Pour out their juicy filth

And lick my disgrace

Din, din, tell ‘em nothing

Copyright July 25, 2008, Michele Koh

The Fetus


Of this unwritten page
The petals of contentment
Are strewn, peace peace
That was born from
Self-righteous justice

Does this document mark
The denouement of the
Sentimental saga
Now the man has become fiction
The woman is redeemed
By the man’s suffering

The strong one
Finally unfurling
Like a shriveled
Fluid deprived fetus
Was there ever any love
Or was it war from the get go

Man wanted woman’s flesh
Man wanted her
To kiss his feet of clay
To worship at the shrine
To cry and pine at the altar
Of Adonis

Woman wanted man’s strength
Woman wanted his
Self-sufficiency
His kinship with nature
Brutish appeal
Business acumen

The fetus of his love
She put it in her mouth
Teasingly at first
Yes, I will nurse the baby
It could grow into a life together

He made her mad
He looked at other women
He spent too much time with Playstation
She ate the fetus
Now the man has become fiction

Copyright Sep 2007, Michele Koh

Pretty Words

Tired tired but the head won’t rest
No more pretty words to give
No more nice sounds coming out of my mouth
My body is like a piece of rotting wood
My fingers like dead leaves
The frailty of my body was imperceptible in youth
Now it is tired tired
But the head won’t rest

Writers seem more prone to alzheimers
And parkinsons in old age
Perhaps because the mind is fighting
The atrophy of the body
The immune system falters

The skin burns, tightens and itch
The organs become phlegmatic in rebellion
Even the passion, the kind with the juice
Stops flowing
Till the only orgasm
Is the one achieved by stroking the word

Till the only bliss is the one that removes
The writer from other human beings



Removes her even from nature
Even from time, from space
From the concept of sex and race
From the concept of building and place
From the constrainst of money and face

Till the only concepts that give comfort
Are --- self and god
Self
God
Self god
God self
Self god
Deliriously happy in the certainly
Of that truth
I am god
God is me
Bliss

Tell me, you simple one?
Is there a greater freedom?
That when the head catches
Those pretty pretty words?
Is there a freeir man?
Than he who dwells only in the world of ideas
Unfettered by sentimental tugs that the human relations entail
Unencumbered by even the gentle stirrings of religion and politics
Unseduced even by the brief joy of companionship

Was there ever a freeir man than he who is God of thought
Creator of reality that does not long even to be?
A creator with no need to create
A vessel of restless seeds that wish to stay uncracked
Why become fruit
To offer your flesh for eating
Nobody eats the seed
So stay seeds
Why sow them?
That’ll bring them closer to their death

Life in the horrid body
Tired tired
Ill ill
The body unworthy of the mind
The mortal body
Bethrothed to the divine mind

Goodbye body
Goodbye memories
Goodbye love
Goodbye desire
Goodbye cares and woes
Goodbye death
Goodbye world
Goodbye feelings
I exist now only on a diet of thought

I judge not
I judge not

So lonely lonely
Tired tired
No more pretty words to give

In my world of thought
An immaterial world of possibly bogus anitmatter

I speak it plain
I speak it for my own benefit
I care not about you
If you think like me
Then you are like god
Then you understand
The simple simple, not so pretty words

Are you tired too?

Copyright 19 Dec 2007, Michele Koh

I Have A Jabberwocky



I have a jabberwocky
Keeps me up all night

In the morning
It is tweedle dee or tweedle dum
Dee for a good day
Dum for a bad

Sometimes it does a Cheshire cat
And my head is away from my body
And I don’t know if I’m here or there

Then there’s holier than thou mad hatter
Who whips my nerves about like batter

And don’t you wake the walrus
Or it’ll slurp on your guts like oysters

And don’t you mess with the queen of hearts
Cos she’ll be eating all your tarts

But worse than them lot
Worse still than the jabberwock
Is the monster child named Alice

Who can make them all disappear
With a warm drawn bath
And two quick flicks of a razor blade


Copyright July 2008, Michele Koh

Sunday, September 21, 2008

The Girl Across the Park


A filmmaker friend called me up one night asking me to help him flesh out a story idea he had just come up with. The story is about a young man sitting on a park bench who notices across from him a girl, presumably young and attractive, looking forlorn, sad and day-dreamily distracted. Fascinated by the girl, he sits around mulling over whether or not he should approach her. The girl leaves, and as the man walks over to where she was seated, he finds a black notebook – the girl’s diary, and in it is a quote that reads. “Knowing is not enough. You must act.” Clearly, it is a love story. The underlying conflict here is to chase or not to chase, to reveal or not to reveal our true intentions to our object of affection. The choice of whether to hasten to love or to sit back and think about what it could be like to love and be loved in return, is presented to him.

My friend proposed two possible endings to his tale. One where our protagonist bides his time pondering the pros and cons of a possible relationship, and hatches his plans, while he’s doing all this the young woman commits suicide because her loneliness becomes too painful to bear. In an alternative ending they become a couple and she is pregnant with his child.

Why is it that so many men (and women) choose not to pursue the person they hold in rapture?

The more enamored we become, the harder it is to move. The nature of infatuation and obsession, the hovering cousins of erotic love, have a paralytic effect on us; and after a while, it becomes safer to sit back, relax and recreate a more willing and more available caricature of the girl across the park in our thought life than to physically risk the palpitations, tight chest, sweaty palms and discomfort that the prospect of the real girl presents; or the sinking feeling that follows should she reject our advances.

In life, the only thing we have control of are our fantasies. Painful things happen, that’s for certain, family members die, we lose jobs, we lose our health, our looks, our tempers; boyfriends and girlfriends break up, marriages end in divorce, husbands and wives die, leaving us with a very real and permanent emptiness. The preservation of love, and the dignity of romance is almost impossible in day to day living, where there are bills to be paid, where there are erratic bosses and the grind of nine to five; where there are bad hair days, mood swings, crying babies, unruly teens, aging parents, bad habits, infidelity, pornography, menopause, weight gain, hair loss, balance sheets, annual leave, flat tires, leaking sinks, laundry, vacuum cleaners, debts, decisions about what film to watch, where to eat, where to go on holiday, broken heaters, broken hearts. The vagaries of life make a poor set for a romantic epic.

The most wonderful thing about the girl on the bench across from us is that she will never be a part of this mundane script called life. She will never have to see us frazzled, burnt out and moody, and we will never have to smell her morning breath or look at her bloody tampon in the trash. Why run the risk of repelling her with our frailties? Why run the risk of her repelling us by displaying the symptoms common to women in love? What do we do with her once she ceases to entertain us and becomes ordinary? If the girl becomes our girlfriend or wife, we know there will be days, weeks, maybe even years when we look at her in all her familiarity and predictability and wonder if we are still in love with her. Days when we feel not an ounce of curiosity, or wonder, or tenderness towards her. We will no longer be free to dream even livelier and more gallant dreams about her. And on those days we might almost hate ourselves for thinking so lowly of her, and for being so unchivalrous. But that sad day will never happen as long as she stays on her side of the park and we stay on ours.



As long as we do not cross that dangerous field, she will never let us down. While reality leaves us beaten and exhausted, gasping for air and struggling to make sense of it all, she, in all her unreality offers us a sanctuary in our inner worlds. The unknown, as yet unloved girl, holds all the promise of a life that could be, if only we were more than human; the promise of heaven if only we were desirable enough, strong enough, pure enough, brave enough, patient enough and good enough. It is the untainted image we hold of her that spurs us on to become better human beings. It is the dream of the life unlived that helps us get through the one we are stuck in.

Our fantasy is the closest image of God that we will ever have. A God that requires nothing from us but blind faith. She is an immaterial God whom we cannot touch, whose core we cannot invade. Therefore our callous humanness cannot destroy her. The extent of this God’s love is entirely up to us. We can imagine that her love for us is as deep as the ocean and as constant as the tides. We can imagine her loving only us with complete surrender. A passionate, powerful and beautiful woman-god, sensitive and delightful in everyway, who longs for us with an animal passion and gentleness, and who loves us with a loyalty so fierce that she would lay her life down for us.

I say imagine, because it is only in the imagination that romantic and passionate love of such intensity can survive without burning us alive. The real world is much too harsh for such heroics. Ideals often have a slim chance of surviving the rigorous test of reality. The girl across the park is the muse of artists, writers and musicians, and if she were to enter the real world and materialize before us, she might turn to dust. Her very power lies in her non-existence, her elusiveness. Shana Alexander, the first woman writer for Life Magazine observed, “The paradox of reality is that no image is as compelling as the one which exists only in the mind's eye.”

The girl across the park is the only sure thing we’ve got in this lifetime. She is incapable of letting us down because she doesn’t know our love exists, so she expects nothing. She cannot reject us, she cannot hurt us, she cannot leave us; and we will never have to stop loving her.

“Knowing is not enough. You must act.” Perhaps it is in the inaction that most of the action takes place, as it goes with most of us, it is in the day dreaming of our ideal partners, or our ideal careers, our ideal home, that we find our salvation, inspiration, enthusiasm and hope. The act of dreaming is much more pleasurable than any other activity. “There is a boundary to men's passions when they act from feelings; but none when they are under the influence of imagination.” Says English Enlightenment philosopher Edmund Burke.

“Knowing is not enough. You must act.” It was written in the girl’s dairy. Perhaps, immaterial as she was, she knew that it was on her part that action had to be taken, less we end up immobilized by illusion. If no life comes out of her, then she can retain her immortal perfection in our mind’s eyes and live on forever in our hearts.

copyright 2008, Michele Koh

Friday, February 09, 2007

I Want Her Smart...But Not TOO Smart...


A male friend once told me, ‘the more intelligent and successful a woman is, the harder it is for her to be find a good partner’. Another levelheaded male friend said, ‘I want a woman who is attractive and smart…but not too smart’.

It would appear that when it comes to mating, an intelligent female is at a disadvantage. No man would ever complain about a woman being too beautiful, yet intellect it seems, should have its limits when bestowed on the fairer sex.

Why are men afraid of intelligent women? The first reason is the increased likelihood of conflict and discord within the relationship. The propensity and desire to argue, question and debate is a common trait among intelligent individuals. Debate and dissent often lead to the deflation of ego. Men need to protect their egos. Hence, a woman who threatens to deflate it sets off the red flag.

The second reason is that men like hiding and their biggest fear is that of emotional and psychological exposure. Men hate to have flaws in their thinking revealed, much less flaws in their beliefs and values. Women, by nature have the innate ability to read emotional cues better than men. However, most women lack the verbal and analytical skills required to convey her observations (about her man’s behavior) to him. That makes her safe, because she will never be able to conceptualize errors in his thought system coherently enough to make an impact. A highly intelligent woman however, has the ability to package and convey what she has observed and present them in a way that will actually force a man to confront his own inadequacies. Most human beings would rather suffer a lifetime living a comfortable lie than have to look at how weak and imperfect they are.

The third reaaon is that society equates intellect and career or financial success with masculinity, therefore a man who is living with a partner who is more intelligent and successful than him feels emasculated. Men feel uncomfortable and uncertain around smart, successful women. Strangely, men like philosophical sparring with members of their own sex. This is because they do not have to sleep next to their male mates. There is a comfortable distance between opponents.

There are men who insist that it is important that a woman is intelligent. Indeed, intellect is very attractive in the initial courtship phase for cerebral men, because they understand that an intelligent woman is usually more cynical and pragmatic and therefore much more difficult to bed. The thrill of the chase is heightened when she is aware of the mechanisms of the male brain and the sexual instincts. If a man succeeds in bedding a cerebral female, it would indicate that he scores highly in the intellect department himself. His ego is thus gratified by this assumption and he can do one of two things. He can move on to his next conquest or he can proceed to ‘feminize’ her by putting down her achievements or ignoring her when she wishes to engage in weighty conversations and meatier issues like politics, religion and ethics.

The fourth reason is that because intellectual confidence is a rare quality in females, most people perceive intelligent women as being arrogant. Men feel that women who are too intelligent are automatically vain, prideful, defiant, self-righteous and hard to control. ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ comes to mind when a man encounters a smart woman.

The fifth reason is the need to preserve personal identity after death. At the end of the day, men want women who will give them physically superior offspring, but they would like the child to inherit their brains and not that of another person. Most men would like to shape the personality of their own children and be the sole guardian of their moral education. By choosing an intelligent and successful woman as the mother of their child means that they will have to share the responsibility of this task and also the credit of it with another person. Smart women have their own notions about child rearing and impose their own belief systems on the child. Men do not like this as it minimizes the parts of his own personality that he has progenated in his child. He feels that in successive generations, his personality will be obliterated completely. Marrying a stupid woman is a man’s way of preserving his own ego-identity when he dies.

The sixth reason for the aversion to an intelligent female has to do with the lack of emotional energy men have for lengthy, complex verbal conversation. When it comes to talking, women have more stamina than men. The part of their brain that deals with language is more highly evolved than men. Men make great orators only because they speak for an allocated time, then spend the rest of their days in silence. Women need to verbalize their thoughts three times as often as males. Hence, a woman full of thoughts and philosophical queries and theories is plain tiring for a man. He simply does not have the energy to keep up. For most men, a frightfully smart woman is just too much hard work.

The seventh reason is that a man always needs to be right. He can be proven wrong once in a while, but he is usually never happier than when he knows he his right. When a man allows a highly intelligent woman into his life and his heart, he will always have to think twice about how right he really is.

Copyright 2007, Michele Koh

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Aren't We All Bigots?


Racism and xenophobia are hot topics in the UK press yet again. For the first time since World War II, a far-right group, backed by 23 million members in EU states, has won a place in the European Parliament. Calling themselves the Identity, Tradition and Sovereignty (ITS) party, this new ultra-right winged bloc have been dubbed “gypsy-haters, holocaust-deniers, xenophobes, homophobes and anti-semites” by the Independent. Besides the usual suspects (Asians, Arabs and Africans), the expansion of the EU has led to Eastern Europeans being the latest targets of xenophobes. Ironically, the admission of Bulgaria and Romania in January this year was what sealed the deal for Europhiles like Jean-Marie Le Pen, who voted against Romania and Bulgaria joining the EU in the first place. The arrival of six Romanian and Bulgarian extremists gave the ITS the 20 seats it needed at the Strasbourg Parliament on the 16 January 2007. Members include, Bruno Gollnisch of France’s National Front, who is awaiting a court verdict on charges of Holocaust denial, Alessandra Mussolini, granddaughter of Benito, former UK Independent Party leader Ashley Mote and other nationalists and extremists from Austria, Poland, Denmark, Poland and Slovakia. The idea that this mish mash of peoples with distinctly separate, cultural heritage and language could rally together is almost comical. Jean-Marie Le Pen when introducing these party leaders at a National Front conference once said: “These are all our friends…they all hate each other, of course, but they are all our friends.”



From a political perspective, there are a number of reasons for the growing influence of the far-right. The increase in immigration has lead to a feeling of deprivation and fear among the European working class who now have to fight with labourers from third world and developing nations for jobs. These new immigrants tend to set up their own ethnic communities, and are reluctant to assimilate. Such in-grouping is a form of reverse elitism and by keeping huddled in closed communities, these groups sow the seeds of paranoia in society. Developed nations like America and Britain are moving towards militarianism, and in order to fund foreign wars, the respective governments need to drum up public support and get people believing propaganda like “Arabs are terrorists”. A report by the European Centre on Racism and Xenophobia states: “Racism and xenophobia are present everywhere; not one EU member state is exempt from this.” Perhaps, none of us are exempt from this. The appearance of the ITS in an institution like the EU Parliament is proof that it is not just the ignorant, poor or educated who are xenophobic.

The Oxford dictionary defines Xenophobia as an “intense dislike or fear of foreigners or strangers.”

Xenophobia is a natural as any fear. I recall as a child my own fear of an Australian family friend whom we called Uncle Charlie. Charlie Galloway was almost seven foot tall, with white hair, big hands, a hooked nose, freckly skin and an accent I couldn’t understand…and he smelt like sheep! My grandfather was a shipwright with an Australian vessel in the 1950s and when he fell ill in Perth, Western Australia, a good Christian couple, Charles and Joyce Galloway took him in and nursed him back to health. My family had become close to the Galloways over the years and had spent their honeymoon in their home. Charlie was a kind and friendly man with gentle eyes and he never did anything mean, but as a little Chinese girl who lived in a world inhabited only by slitty eyed, petite, black haired Orientals, this white-haired giant scared the be-Jesus out of me. Every time, uncle Charlie came for a visit, I would hide behind my mother’s skirt and scream and cry. When he tried to shake my hand or give me a present, I would shriek and run off into the kitchen. How awful it must have been for the poor old man. I must have made him feel like a mutant! Another, not so benign form of xenophobia is the kind that parents and grandparents instill in children through racist jokes and remarks. As a toddler, I would go for meals with my grandmother at the open-aired hawker centres. To stop her hyperactive granddaughter from running off on her own and getting lost, my grandma would tell me to sit tight, lest a turbaned Sikh whom she called “Babu Singh” caught me and put me in a gunny sack. She had made a boogeyman out of a racial minority. My grandma had given me one of the worse gifts one can give a child – a stereotype. It took many friendships with Sikh kids in school for me to unlearn it.

Xenophobia, like jealousy, low self-esteem and warts can be treated. The best way is through dialogue and humour. “How do Chinese parents decide on the names for their children? They throw pots and pans down a flight of stairs and pick the first sound they hear! Ching, Chong, Kong, Tek!” “Why are Italians and Greeks called W.O.P.s? Cause when you take a bag of shit and throw it against the wall, it goes WOP!” Ok, so these jokes are very silly and crude, but off-coloured humour is the only way we can safely address something that is a part of us all – the fear of people who look, behave and think contrary to us.



As a teenager, I hung out with a group of friends at the Far East Plaza shopping mall. There were Chinese, German, American, French, Indian, African and Malay, Middle Eastern and Eurasian youths who would all get drunk and smoke cigarettes together after school. The only thing we had in common were parents who didn’t understand our need for individualism and an eagerness to know about the world beyond little Singapore. We developed a lingo which allowed us to use semi-derogatory colloquial terms for each ethnic group in the most affectionate way. A Chinese person could be greeted by his non-Chinese friends with the word “munjen” (Tamil word for yellow tumeric – the colour of a Chinese person’s skin), an Indian person would be called a “tambi” (Tamil word for errand boy or office boy), a Caucasian person would be called a “guai loh” or “guai mui” (ghost boy/girl), “mat saleh” (white man), or “ang moh” (red head), a Malay person would be called a “mat” (short for the prophet Mohammed) and “minah” (the prophet’s mother) and a Eurasian would be called “grago” (in reference to Portuguese shrimp fishermen) or “chow hair” (Hokkien for smelly shrimp). It was like each ethnic group had its’ own comic strip super hero identity, and most of us didn’t mind the use of such terms. The terms were only used by other kids who were close enough and considered each other really good friends, blood brothers and sisters of sorts. So in our little teenage world in Far East Plaza, it was actually a privilege if someone called you a noggin or chink. It meant that you were a part of the inner circle, that you were not looked upon by the group as typical of your race. That you are no longer a foreigner, but part of a youth subculture where racial differences add to the ‘cool factor’. Of course, such candidness is reserved only for a certain place and time, and if the adult world operated in such a way, society would be in chaos. Gender, religion, sexual orientation and race are issues that most people feel too uncomfortable discussing in an in-dept way. Because you are either in or out. Depending on the consensus of the day, you are either the victim or the bully, the good or the bad.

I was at the hairdressers yesterday, and I overheard a white hairdresser talking to her British Indian lady client about the racist attacks by Jade Goody on Bollywood actress Shilpa Shetty on “Celebrity Big Brother”. The Indian lady said: “I don’t think Jade did anything wrong. That’s just her personality. They (the TV station) shouldn’t blame her. I don’t think she was being racist at all.” Shetty was allegedly called “the Indian”, and “cunt” on the show. Goody, articulating her xenophobic impulse had said: “She makes me feel sick. She makes my skin crawl.” Model Danielle Llyod remarked to another contestant when Shetty cooked a roast chicken dinner: “They eat with their hands in India, don’t they? Or is that China? You don’t know where those hands have been.” Llyod also called Shetty a “dog” and said she “wants to be white”. But our Indian friend in the salon obviously does not think that the abuse heaped upon her fellow Indian was racist. The white hairdresser said: “ I don’t know why they (the press and people in India) are making such a big deal about this. There are much more important things they should be talking about.”



This is exactly the kind of attitude that perpetuates xenophobia and racism today!!!! Parents not talking to their homosexual children about their sexuality and relationships! Husbands not talking to wives about the fact that her pay checque is bigger than his! Ethnic minorities not wanting to admit the reality of racism, and ethnic majorities dismissing the matter as if it were trivial.

The first racist slur that Shetty suffered may have been due to the fact that she is Indian. However, any subsequent remark can no longer be blamed on the colour of her skin or her accent. It can be attributed to her own cowering and meek personality. Anyone, regardless of rank or file invites insult when they are unassertive. The trouble with minority groups in any social situation is that they feel that they have to apologize for their minority status. That because they are black, female, Jewish, gay or have some kind of physical or mental defect, they have to work extra hard at making people like them and accept them. Or they become so conscious of their own differences that they interact with people in a very tense and socially awkward way, which makes people uncomfortable and attack them. Another problem with ethnic minorities, particularly those from post-colonial societies, (here Lloyd might be right) is that they ‘want to be white’ and the rest of Mediterranean and Slavic Europe secretly want to be Vanderbilt and Astor WASPs. It is hard to respect someone who is not somewhat nationalistic or at least proud of his or her roots. Some might argue that many third generation immigrants born in foreign cities have adopted the nationalities of their host countries. That is a weak excuse. When we look in the mirror, or at our father’s or mother’s last names, we know the community from which we belong. Irish accents and Italian traditions may have gotten lost in America, Chinese and Indian customs and languages may be restricted to kitchens and living rooms today, Afro-Caribbean songs may exist more so in memory than in day-to-day life. But they should not be abandoned. National and racial identity is an essential part of the human psyche and it needs to be embraced.

John Lichfied of the Independent wrote: “The far-right cannot be a coherent pan-European movement, but it can be a virus which spreads through the democratic institutions that it abhors like some kind of super-bug, a political “MRSA”.”


The virus does not come from the far-right. It comes from the people who would pretend that xenophobia does not exist within themselves. The presence of the ITS is perhaps a backlash against globalization and multiculturalism. A warning that the only way to deal with the potential threat of a fascist revival is to give people what they need – the right to be bigots, and to hate bigots. We don’t need to accept or tolerate, much less respect anyone unless we choose to. And even so, respect needs to be earned. We don’t have to like each other to live together or to keep our economies alive. As Le Pen said: “They all hate each other, of course, but they are all our friends.”

Copyright 2007, Michele Koh

Monday, December 11, 2006

Civil Society thrives on Marriage


Tory leader David Cameron said that the root of Britain’s social ills is the breakdown of the family unit. The latest report from the Conservative party found that unmarried parents are more likely to separate than married parents. With 50% of unmarried parents splitting up after the child is five. Children of single parent families are most likely to commit crimes and end up abusing drugs and alcohol. Duncan Smith, head of the Tory’s Social Justice Party believes that there is a connection between the “growing underclass” and unmarried couples. He cites family breakdown, reliance on benefits, educational failure, drinking, drugging and debt as some of the outcomes of couples starting families out of wedlock.

“Family is the most important institution in Britain and if we are serious about tackling the cause of poverty and social breakdown, then we must look at ways of supporting families and also supporting marriage so that couples are encouraged to get together and stay together.” Mr. Smith said.

One can predict that the Tory’s Victorian approach to marriage will be perceived by liberals as a moral crusade, similar to John Major’s “Back to Basics” campaign which criticized single mothers. Feminists in the UK will certainly have a lot to get riled up about if the tax incentives for married couples do materialize.

In Singapore, most young single men and women still live with their parents till they get married. Unlike western societies, co-habitation before marriage is viewed with disapproval. The government in Singapore is pro-family and there are tax reliefs and rebates and housing discounts for newly married couples, but none for single-mothers. Singapore is a society that actively promotes marriage and ostracizes common law living.
When I try to explain that this is the reality in Singapore, my friends in the UK and US find it ridiculous and somewhat impractical. Most of my classmates, some as young as 19 are living with their boyfriends or girlfriend. A few of them have made this decision to live with their partners even though doing so meant that they would be cut off financially and emotionally by their parents. Their argument is that a man and woman need to spend some time living together before they can know if they will make good spouses. And also that it is more convenient financially. The sad fact is that many of these couples who move in together end up staying together for an average of three years before they go their separate ways.

Those to choose cohabitation claim that you need to REALLY know a person before you decide to commit to marriage. That most divorces are a result of people not knowing their partners well enough and therefore realizing after marriage that ‘the goods were bad’. They view living together as a sort of mock “trial marriage”, a rehearsal to help them gauge their level of suitability and decide if marriage is indeed for them.

Five years ago, I would have agreed with their naïve leftist approach towards relationships. However, having lived with boyfriends in the past, I am now against cohabitation and would have to agree with those who stand for marriage. Research has shown than “trial marriages” do not work. 40% of cohabiting couples break-up before they make it to marriage and the divorce rate for cohabitants are 50% higher than for non-cohabitants. So it would seem that living together out of wedlock increases your chances of NOT ending up “happily ever after”.

When I live with a partner, the main incentive is sex and affection. Neither of us is looking towards starting a family. There are no shared goals except for physical and emotional pleasure and mutual companionship. Without future plans there is no motivation to secure and increase financial assets or talents. There are no career, geographical or biological time frames and both end up in a state of limbo. I tend to get lazy and complacent once I have settled into my ‘love nest’. A ‘live in the moment’ mentality sets in. This is not a bad thing, but it can create a feeling of stagnation after a while. I have noticed this also in my friends who cohabitate. They become restless and because they have taken no vows, they feel that an independent, single lifestyle is still their right. They get resentful when their partner tells them what to do. “What right do you have telling me what to do? You are not my wife/husband!” so it goes. Often, when living with a partner, I feel secure in knowing that I do not have to go out and ‘hunt’ for sex and cuddles. Sex and physical affection is such a basic human need and cohabitation meets that need on a regular basis. However, once I have gotten my fill of physical intimacy, and the live in situation feels too claustrophobic, my greatest comfort comes from the knowledge that I can leave whenever I want to and NOBODY can fault me for me. I am blameless. How grown-up is that? I take all the fun and love that a boyfriend/girlfriend has to offer then leave when I have to actually deal with a flawed human being for the rest of my life. Cohabitation is great if what you want is a place to find fault with another person so you can convince yourself that marriage is indeed too difficult and the single life suits you better.

Living together takes the mystery out of marriage, and there is nothing to anticipate anymore. There is also something surreptitious and clandestine about cohabitation. When a man and woman are in love, they should always be proud of that fact and invite the world to witness their joyful union. That is what marriage is about. Marriage is inclusive. The wedding ceremony is an opportunity for the bride’s family and friends and the groom’s family and friends to come together to accept and encourage the couple. It is a celebration of approval and familiarity. The couple no longer enjoys sexual intimacy secretly, in marriage they are in fact asking those closest to them to acknowledge their sexual union because it is wholesome, it is good and they now know…it is their God-given right. Marriage is when lovers come out in the open and make an honest proclamation of their love for each other.



Cameron and Smith were right in their conclusion that the causes of social dysfunction is connected with people choosing to live together and start families rather than doing it the traditional way. Traditions are put in place for a reason and when people decide to break social mores, there are often consequences. I would rather grow up with a mother and father who fight constantly than grow up with only a mother or father, which I feel would force me to play the role of the parent or emotional partner to make up for the lack of opposite sex intimacy and support in their life.

When I was five, I often put a white crochet tablecloth over my head as a veil pretending I was bride. Perhaps today, women around the world, feel as if they longer have the right to play out that role or dream that dream. We have been conditioned by sitcoms like “Sex and The City” to believe that we are weak if we choose domesticity and children over a high-flying career and Jimmy Choos. We have been conditioned to believe that we can rear children without a good man by our side. We have become deluded enough to believe that within US alone is all we need to give proper love and moral guidance to a child.

Without marriage, children are nothing but pets, ego-projects deprived of moral structure and stability. Children who grow up without loving parents, will have little opportunity to observe love in action. It is no surprise then that if the dough does not stick, the cookie will surely crumble.

Copyright 2006, Michele Koh

Monday, December 04, 2006

Only the Mad Murder


Today, newspapers in London report that “one person a week in Britain is killed by a psychiatric patient”, and 25 a week commit suicide. Most of these murders are committed by patients whom mental health workers have diagnosed as low-risk. National Director for Mental Health in England, professor Louis Appleby, said the problem was that psychiatrists and psychologists deal with such an overwhelming number of violent, high-risks patients everyday that they become desensitized. “Desensitization” occurs when “psychiatric staff become used to dealing with very high-risk patients and so fail to notice warning signs when one is becoming dangerously ill,” said Appleby. Professor Appleby chaired an independent inquiry to find out why mental health care in the UK was failing. The findings were published in a report entitled “Avoidable Deaths”. The report states that 10% of the murder victims were strangers and 90% were friends, carers or family members of the patients. Figures in England and Wales also show that there is an increase in the number of homicides involving people with “dual diagnosis” – that is, a patient who has been diagnosed with both a mental illness and a drug or alcohol addiction.

Only one in five murders? Probably all five murders in the week were committed by mentally ill people, only the other four managed to remain anonymous and functional enough not to have ended up under mental health care in the first place. It makes sense really that someone who has the audacity to take human life, whether another persons or their own would have to be insane. Sane people use the faculty of reason and analysis too well. Sane people often think of murdering, but rationality and practicality stop them before the final act. In the mentally unstable, there are often times when that faculty of reason disappears completely and they operate on emotion alone. Their ability to think about things from an observer’s perspective leaves them and they become the centre of the universe, the creator and perpetuator of the drama of life. The finger of God.The only way to stop the show is to end a life. Regardless of the consequences.

Desensitization certainly adds to the dilemma of the mentally ill person. Imagine that you have a cold and you sneeze hoping that your boss or teacher will see you sneezing enough times to tell you to go home and rest till you are better. You sneeze, but the pupil next to you is coughing blood. Nobody notices you. You continue to be seen by the rest of the office/school as just another pupil who should show up for work/class. You are expected to perform as well as others who are not sick.

These days, every 10th person I talk to has been diagnosed with some form of mental illness. When ‘mad’ people talk, they try to top each other’s crazy antics. If one person tells a story about how she overdosed on valium, another person will brag about how last weekend he fantasized about pushing his 4 year-old daughter onto the train tracks, and another might go on about how she is in anger management for breaking her mother’s jaw. So if I were a doctor and had to choose which of the three would get the last bed in my unit, it would seem that the woman who broke her mother’s jaw would be my best bet. After all, hers was an actual act of violence and not just a fantasy right? That’s how desensitization works. We look at a person talking to imaginary animals or banging their fists against their head and we go: “He just needs some attention. He’s just acting out. He’ll be ok in a while.” Low-risk behavior.

We look at someone who is smashing kittens against the wall or threatening to bite people’s noses off. “Ooh better put him in a straightjacket!” High-risk behavior. But the truth is, the man standing in the corner in his pajamas laughing his head off is as likely to stick a kitchen knife in your gut as the man mutilating puppies. All mad people are similar in their madness, the missing piece is the same, the only thing that is different is the behavioral symptoms they choose to display. Grandiosity, mania, paranoia and depression are the four main feelings that dominate the unbalanced mind. When either of the four feelings or a combination of them grow large enough to block out logical thought, a person will be capable of murder or suicide.

The Observer reports that victims are nearly always family members. That makes perfect sense. For the average unthinking insane person, the process of surveillance and selection is usually too much of a mental effort. Only someone whose analytical abilities were focused could muster enough energy to scan a crowd and choose a potential victim. That would indicate a certain amount of emotional detachment (that is something that most mental patients lack.) Calculated crime is usually committed by sociopaths and not your average mentally ill person. I will talk more about sociopathology another time, as I believe that sociopaths are not afflicted with any of the four main feelings of grandiosity, mania, paranoia or depression, but are a subspecies who have brain structures closer to reptiles than mammals. Sociopatholgy is characterized by the lack of emotion rather than the intensity of it.

Therefore, your average mental patient will kill a family member simply because they are the most accessible and being around that particular family member probably brings about the greatest sense of grandeur, mania, paranoia or depression in the mentally ill person and they feel that by removing the person, they will be able to remove the intensity of their emotional anguish.

The mentally insane are simple. In all their lunacy, they are more childish than the sane. If I were asked to find a common trait among the mentally unstable, it would be childlikeness. They are very naïve and self-centered. Their childlikeness makes them more uninhibited than sane folks and allows them to believe that they are innocent and guiltless no matter what they do. Hence they feel they have the right to take human life.

As for dual diagnosis, it doesn’t take an expert in psychology to see why drug and alcohol abuse would go hand in hand with mental illness. When a person experiences emotions beyond his coping ability, he will want to numb those intense feelings by putting himself in a drug altered state. A drug-induced altered state which to a normal person seems abnormal and uncomfortable, will feel normal to the chemically imbalanced person, whose own natural state feels more abnormal and uncomfortable than that induced by any drug. To a mad person, being drunk, high or stoned is actually more manageable than how living in his head feels without chemicals. So drugs and alcohol are to the abnormal mind what air and water are to the normal mind. Mad people crave drugs and alcohol in order to feel “just about aye-ok”. They are addicted because they need to escape the irregularities of their emotions and peculiarity of their sensory experiences. It is frightening being mad and the drugs and alcohol take the edge off that fear.

So are the one in five murders committed by mad people really “avoidable deaths”? I think not. Chemically imbalanced individuals are God’s way of controlling the population. When a society, race or nation is not doing the will of God, he activates the ‘kill switch’ in the mentally ill for population control. Madness, like cancer and AIDS is painful for those living with it. The difference is, with cancer and AIDS, it is the body that degenerates, with insanity, it is the spirit that degenerates.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

A Free Pen & Pissed Off-ed Men


I had just spent 2 days creating a CVS file with all the names and email addresses of people whom I would like to invite to read this blog. I spent time and effort writing a letter explaining the gist of this site. It was hard work filing, organizing and doing this database and when I finally sent the generic letter out to the 200 odd email addresses on the list, I felt a sense of achievement. But within half an hour, I received an email from one of the recipients, saying: “Michele, why the capital letters do you really want to shout?” I shrank to about 100 times my normal size. I suddenly felt ashamed and worried that I was blowing my own horn. I started going through all my postings to see if anything I wrote came across as bragging. I felt like someone had accused me of launching a self-promotion campaign. I felt like a spammer and a telemarketer, cold calling to sell my ideas and opinions.

Was I launching a self-promotion campaign? Yes. Is that wrong? No. Most artists complain that they cannot make a living or that they cannot pursue their passions and make a career out of it. They remain unknown and unhappy because their egos are so fragile that they would rather hide behind their canvases than risk being criticized or labeled a bad writer /painter/ musician. Or worse still...a bad person! Some have enough common sense to hire publicity agents and PR people. All I have done is taken the initiative to showcase my work. I am a writer and I hope that people will recognize me as one. If I am not WRITING then I how can I present myself as a writer. I am proud to be a writer. I am proud of my inclination towards the spiritual life. I am unashamed of the events in my past and my moral stand on things today. I have the right to say what I choose and if people think that is shouting, so be it. I have a big voice and I will use it.

The impact of the email was greater because the person who wrote it was someone whom I held in high esteem. Someone who appeared to be extremely intelligent, liberal, tolerant, affectionate, open-minded and kind. Certainly not someone to knock down freedom of expression. I was surprised at this person’s judgementalness.

I confided to a friend about this and she told me not to get unduly disturbed by the remark. She told me that as a writer I have to know that not everyone will agree with me and that I will encounter people who will whack me down hard. As painters and actors will know, there are more critics out there than fans. This is the first time it has occurred to me that by committing my thoughts to paper and making the decision to publish it, I have sacrificed my right to always be seen as a ‘nice person’. I have given up my right to a quiet existence of peace and goodwill. The pen is mightier than the sword. I will inevitable end up saying things that might make some people hate me. It dawned on me today that if I want to keep writing…….and writing honestly, telling the truth as I see it, it means I have to give up the privilege of being liked by everybody.

The Sign of The Cross


First the niqab and now the cross. British Airways check-in worker Nadia Eweida is on unpaid leave because she refused to hide the cross that she wore around her neck. According to BA staff regulations, religious jewellery like crucifixes can only be worn underneath their clothes.

To a Christian, the cross symbolizes that they belong to Christ, that they are his followers and they believe in his teachings. Just as the niqab symbolizes faithfulness to Allah and suscription to the five pillars of Islam. Governments attack religion to no end, blaming Catholicism, Judaism, Islam and Buddhism for wars and bloodshed. How far this is from the truth. Religion is the only thing left that reminds us of our humanity and our need for order and guidance. The real culprits for wars are corrupt governments and unethical businesses. It is the god of money and commerce that forces us to remove our crosses and headscarves. It is the god of tourism and corporatism that insists on turning us all into clones.

Men will blow up buses, towers and planes, soldiers will rape innocent civilian and people will die whether or not Heathrow is full of veiled women and crucifix wearing check-in staff. Everybody has the right to display and proclaim his or her religious affiliation. I do not believe for a moment that Muslims and Jews will chance upon the image of a 33 year old man pinned to a cross and be inspired to kill Christians. Nor do I believe that a Catholic or Protestant will bludgeon a woman to death simple because she wears a niqab. Anyone who assumes that religious artifacts are the cause of ethnic or cultural conflict is obviously not acquainted with God. God delights in differences, any sign or symbol of reverence for what is unseen and otherworldly is lauded by him.

Governments and corporations who attempt to inhibit religious expression are laying the foundations for their own hell. The Christians answer to their Lord Jesus Christ and Muslims are accountable to Allah. I wonder to whom these big wigs who laid down the BA dress code feel they are accountable to? Their boss who makes sure they get to keep their Jaguar perhaps? Or maybe no one?