A Comparison

A topic that I have often discussed with friends is why gay relationships usually fail in comparison with straight relationships. Not to say our straight counterparts have it any easier, they probably have their own troubles as well. So what is it that makes straight relationships last longer in comparison to our often two months flings? Here's an easy pictorial journey:

In an average heterosexual's life:

The teenage years

The adult years

Marriage

Pregnancy

Family life

The kids grow up and have their own families

And then they grow old together

In an average homosexual's life:

First year of coming out

...average of 10x during the first year

5 years in the gay scene

...already lost count after the second year

10 years in the gay scene

...no longer counting

30 years in the gay scene

No more "I love you's"... (At 50 years)

Your funeral, and that's the only guy who ever loved you but you didn't realise attending in drag

Any questions?

Scout's Honour

I remembered the time I was passed over from being selected for scouts. It was back in primary school and I was given a miss over the excuse that the quota is full. Right, what rubbish. In any case, I wasn't overly disappointed, considering the scout teacher was a total psycho case. If he was still a teacher today I think he would have long since found himself behind bars for abuse and assault. Seriously back then, Mr. Psycho had a reputation for excessive use of force. Rumour had it that he had drew blood before from past students and that his wife left him because of spousal abuse.

Anyway, bitter and disillusioned about being rejected from the "exclusive boys' club", I ended up becoming a member of the St. John's Ambulance instead. Go ahead, laugh and call me a fag. In times of emergency, a medical officer can strip anyone of their rank for being medically incompetent and take charge. Take that you testosterone filled brats. In any case, the scouts are not as manly as one would assume. The founder, Robert Baden-Powell was speculated to be a repressed homosexual who often praised the male anatomy and denigrated the female one. He also enjoyed seeing his underlings stripped down for a swim and had a special youthful "friend" whom he fondly refers to as "the boy". So the next time you scout boys think you're so manly, just remember you had your origins as an old pervert's fantasy.

A Message From The Dark Side There Is...

I am not as guiltless and righteous as I may seem most of the time to most people. More than often many have had the notion that just because I rarely seem interested in the issue of coupling means I rarely if ever participate in carnal desires. I had my fair share of empty passions, usually to just temporarily fill a void. But no, this does not happen often, and I can still count such encounters with one hand thankfully. As are all one night stands, the remedial effects usually last as long as the act itself. After which, leaves one feeling more empty than ever and at worst, bring undesired attention later on.

Retribution finally caught up me this morning when I was rudely awoken at 6am by a message alert which all my friends know is a loud Yoda declaring, "Mmmm... a message from the dark side there is...". It couldn't be more appropriate. Turns out the message was from someone I did the dirty with over a year ago as fuck therapy after having my heart broken. Let's call this someone, "Ray". After having slept with Ray twice and toyed with the idea that maybe we could see each a regularly (though knowing for sure that the idea was as stupid as putting a can in the microwave), I cut off contact with him after a brief period of silence led him to not remember who I was on MSN. Talk about major blow to the dignity. So imagine my surprise at the message this morning. Ray wants someone to hug him because he is feeling the blues. This one will go down in my books as the most odd request made the most odd hour. Certainly one does not message a fling from a year ago for hugs after a long period of silence do they? It is almost an invitation for a bitch slap.

However ever the nice person, I just told him to just go to sleep and he will feel better when he wakes up and left it just at that. Bewildered by the strange exchange, I could no longer go back to sleep. It's one of those days when I wish my life was a lot more simpler, where I live in Tuscany with dogs and an olive orchard and my neighbours are weird Italians who are forever jolly and eccentric.

BEEFCAKE!!!

7 months ago I hauled my sorry ass for a long delayed trip down to Singapore for the first time in almost 20 years and I returned with this book.



Honestly, I haven't heard of Vincent Ng until I saw this book. Supposedly he is a former national athlete in Singapore and is currently now a MediaCorp artiste. Actually I don't know if I should use the word "artiste" considering most reviews about him speaks of how he acts like a block of wood and the only saving grace about him are constant scenes of him topless. I admit, my shallowness got the better of me when I bought the book but I did rant for a long time I wanted to work towards achieving a body like Mr. Ng. The book is a hoot, with language an amateur could beat without trying. But what healthy hot-blooded gay male wouldn't give in to such wanton display of muscular man flesh, right? RIGHT??

7 months later and I am nowhere near this. Don't blame Vince's book though, I am not exactly the most disciplined person when it comes to eating but yet I work out more religiously than religion. One of the reasons why my recent attempt at a relationship failed was because I preferred working out to paktor-ing. When I tell people I am a gym instructor, the first reaction I usually get will be, "Wow, you must have six packs!". Yes I do have six packs, but they come in a convenient bargain of ONE large pack. OK maybe I am being a bit too modest, it's not exactly a large pack but it is not definitely something I would flaunt around shirtless without sucking in my breath. RPM everyday takes a chunk out of my attempts to bulk up but the good side of it is that it keeps me on the lean side, except again, on the abs part.

So now on the seventh month of owning the book and leaving it languishing at my bedside, I am finally making yet another attempt to turn myself into a Vincent Ng clone, just his body that is, heaven forbid, not his wood block acting skills and horrible England. As I told rpmnut, he can't act to save his nuts.

Good luck to me. For the amusement of my readers, here is an excerpt of an interview with Vincent Ng just to show that the only desirable part about him is his body.

Q : Which muscle best describes who you are and why?
Vincent: “I guess it might be my stomach muscles. Most people I meet in photo shoots normally ask me how I achieve my abs but I actually don’t do much to achieve my six-pack. If you ask me which muscles I like best in my body, I’ll say my back muscles; I think they are neglected hahah!” His manager muttered to us nonchalantly: “Aiyah, Vincent can get a six-pack just by sneezing!” Hahah!

Q : Did you go for any waxing or body hair removal for the photos in the book?
Vincent: “Never.”

Q : Weren’t you worried about any hairs peeking out?
Vincent: “They (the photographers) did find a nipple hair lah… the hair on my right nipple is quite long lah… but it can’t be seen in the photo.”

Q : What about the lower part of your body? After all, you wore only briefs in some photos.
Vincent: “No mah… can’t be seen… ok lah… it’s quite well-hidden. I tucked in everything.” (Stifled chuckles all around at Vincent’s choice of words)

Q : Well, did you trim yourself?
Vincent: “A bit lah… nothing drastic… I tucked most of them in lah…”

Elliot Almighty

Now what would happen if God in the guise of Morgan Freeman decides to grant me omnipotent powers to teach me a lesson due to my discontent towards life in general. I would say it would be His biggest mistake after Lucifer... and humans. OK, before I get trashed for being sacrilegious, this entry is not meant to offend the Almighty. Honestly if I were a god, mankind would tremble in fear. They would be sacrificing everything from their pets to their children in hopes of placating my wrath. For one thing I would have no qualms about making dramatic appearances and demonstrating my awesome powers to terrorise mankind into submission.

Forget burning bushes, angels, prophets and saints, I would be making personal appearances Godzilla style. I would smite disbelieving humans in an overkill display of godly powers.

Puny human: You're not God... you're a MONSTER! I don't believe in you!!!
*KRAKOOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!*
*Puny human disintegrates in a pile of cinders*
Spouse of puny human: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
*KRAKOOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!*
*Spouse of puny human also disintegrates in a pile of cinders*
*Laughs maniacally*

I would be parting traffic jams like the Red Sea everyday on my way to work, or rather I would just blast them out of my way. Wait, why would God even need to work? On the good side, there would be no extremism because zealots would be too busy worshiping me in terror, of which there would still be no respite anyway because I would still be busy zapping at random just because I like doing it. Why bother worshiping then? Don't do it and I still smite the poor sods with a giant fist from the heavens. I will erase the troublesome Middle-East with but a stroke of my thumb and turn everyone there gay just because it seems ironically amusing to me. I will turn all the Chinese into tree hugging hippies and the Americans into fabulously campy cross dressers. FEAR ME!!!

Unfortunately, it is just another boring week day in the office, and God I am not. But one can still daydream no?

Harry Potter & The Gay Innuendos

I was among the throngs of Dementhors... excuse me, demented people who embraced the throngs to watch the fifth big screen adaptation of Devil's henchwoman... I'm sorry, J.K. Rowling's piece of hacked-up cat furball of a book, Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix. My question is, what order? Judging from my none too kind opinion, I am sure one would have already guessed without much difficulty that I am not much of a fan of the geeky one who survived because some baddie without a nose didn't have much sense to use more traditional methods to murder a baby instead of sticking a wand where it didn't belong.

Sean had to bribe me with this to watch the movie

But anyway, back to the question, yes, what order? I don't know if it was because the original plot of the book was heavily condensed for the motion picture, but it sure fits poorly especially when the aforementioned order only makes up less than 10 minutes of screen time. That refers too to the ensemble of Oscar winners and nominees and A-grade thespians who make an appearance. One would wonder what Emma Thompson's Sybill Trelawney or Maggie Smith's Minerva Mcgonagall was doing in there or Helena Bonham Carter's Bellatrix LeStrange too other than to screech wildly before despatching Gary Oldman's Sirius Black (which I understood had fans protesting and sobbing buckets). And if anyone is thinking Ralph Fiennes' Voldermort is the main villain, you are gravely mistaken. In fact he just ends up looking retarded with every close up, noseless. What a waste of Mr Fiennes' good looks. The honor instead goes to the annoying Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton), whom I must praise, made the character absolutely hateful. Enough to make you wish you did not have to tolerate another appearance of her pussy obsessed character.

Other than that, the whole movie was just nothing more than a rollercoaster of amusement decked with all the trappings of yet another Hollywood blockbuster, nothing more. I thought it had plots and effects shamelessly stolen from Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. What kept me entertained was the variety of unintentional (or was it?) gay innuendos riddled throughout the movie, including Sirius Black's unabashed gushing and adoration for Harry's late father James Potter. Albus Dumbledore's last line, "I care for you too much, Harry" had me in stitches. I am sure you do you dirty old fucker.

This Episode Has Been Brought To You By The Number 4

Hooray, I am slapped with a meme. Finally, fun with questions.

4 jobs I've had in my life:

1. Promoter - For one month during my third year in university, I was one among the slaves who toil at one of the great monuments of capitalism that is Mid Valley Megamall. Until today I have great empathy to these frontline cannon fodders of those pretentious clothing brands. To this very day, I have a distinct hatred towards security guards of a certain departmental store for their anal ways. However, never since then have I had colleagues who were that fun to work with.

2. Multimedia/Web Designer - I am not sure you could even call this work. I was paid a measly RM700 the first month and then nothing for the next three. How I managed to survive that long surprises me to this day. I was young then and very much in love. Yes I worked with the ex, and the explosive confrontation in and out of the office shall forever scar my memory. But being trained in this line, I am still a web designer till the present.

3. Writer - This was one of the best jobs ever, great colleagues, great perks. Pity the evil fiend of a marketing director whom we are still in the middle of suing.

4. Group Exercise Instructor - A profession I accidentally stumbled upon, and never looked back since. I get paid to exercise and yell at people now who wouldn't want that?


4 movies I can watch over and over again

1. Under the Tuscan Sun - A chick flick with a not too conventional but idealistic love story loosely based on the book of the same name. Plenty of lovely Italian scenery.

2. Calmi Cuori Appassionatti - A multi-lingual love story starring Kelly Chen and Yutaka Takenouchi about a lover's tiff which separated a pair of lovers for 10 years and a promise to meet again at the Duomo in Florence. Soundtrack by Enya and yes, more love scenery of Italy.

3. The Sweetest Thing - A total no brainer romance-comedy with Cameron Diaz, Christina Applegate and Selma Blair that serves no purpose other than to make you feel good on your worst days.

4. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy - Do I need to explain this one?

4 places I've been on vacation

1. Singapore - I like this city state. It reminds me of Legoland.

2. Lang Tengah - A quaint little island on the east coast neighbouring Redang and Perhentian. I have always hoped to go back but haven't come about to doing that.

3. Langkawi - I thought it was nice the first time I went there, then it just lost its novelty the second time around. The best part of the whole trip was my mom's quest to locate her long lost landlord who kindly took her in during the days when she was a struggling trainee teacher sent to no man's land. Turns out missing landlord's family is now one of the richest on the island.

4. Melaka - Though I am just a mere one and a half hour's drive away from this place, the rustic feel of Melaka town never fails to calm me down. I had a totally tragic date which turned out to be one of the best there. I had not went back since the relationship turned ugly.

4 favourite foods

1. Yin Yeung
2. Braised Yee Mee
3. Jalan Gasing Chicken Rice
4. Just about any kind of fruits except durians and jackfruits.


4 favourite places I'd like to visit

1. Italy - refer to above.
2. Egypt - I am just dying to see mummies.
3. Greece - I am just dying to see who came after the mummies.
4. Europe - I am just a sucker for rustic European landscapes.

4 most overused words

1. "Sungguh!"
2. "OMG/Oh my God"
3. "Mahder (mother)"
4. "Kan ne... (Fuck...)"

4 TV shows I love

1. Ally McBeal - Do I need to say more?
2. All 3 CSI's - I just love those whodunnit series.
3. Star Trek - I can just re-watch these over and over again, except Enterprise, that one sucked.
4. Six Feet Under - There's something about this series that just keeps me hooked. Used to watch it with the ex. It took me over three years before I eventually went back to completing the whole series.

Nobody Sleeps

And so I am back after almost a month on hiatus, not that I was really truly away anyway since I actually log on everyday, just that I never bothered to post anything. I really should be working but I am not and for what is worth, I don't really care. I hardly have time for myself nowadays. My house is in a bloody mess, and for some probably loneliness driven reason, I got myself involved with someone. Don't think I want to discuss this as of yet as I have no real vision of where this is headed but for once, maybe I am with somebody who likes me more than I like him. Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing, we shall see as time goes by. I don't know if I am feeling happy or not, but ever since falling out of a messy love affair over a year ago, I set my life on a fast pace and found it very hard to slow down since. Finding time to cultivate a relationship at the moment makes it feel like I drove right into traffic jam.

There are differences to work out which I have yet to overcome. Things which have I picked up along the way to keep me going which I am still reluctant to sacrifice to sustain a second person in my life. The ghosts of previously failed loves return to haunt me periodically though I might say they are more of an annoyance than a source of fear. I think I have become so jaded that the fear of falling out again seem trivial. However I have not found the generosity in me to forgive exes and former lovers. It feels remarkable to me sometimes how one can love and hate someone at the same time. Perhaps those two are the one and the same after all. Love is hate, hate is love. Without one, there is no other.

Of recent as well, I found myself mentioned in passing from someone's blog. A mention from a time when I spent hours on mIRC while I was in university because back in those days, internet was the only entertainment you could find. My university is located in what today I still term as Nuclear Holocaust. Nothing but barren red earth for miles. Buildings so sterile that algae wouldn't even grow on the walls. There are roads that abruptly end mid-air (I am not kidding). In any case, the location mattered little, it's a more decadent past I would rather put behind. I think my IRC nickname is still notorious till today, my dry humour and sarcasm in chatrooms coupled with a good command of English was often taken as a sign of arrogance by most. Then again it was an image I often encouraged. Still, it was pretty unnerving to see my nickname mentioned again after all these years since I retired mIRC. Even the chatroom in which I promoted my notoriety is no longer in existence. I often found it amusing that people often tried to put a face to that personality I cultivated online. More often than not, those who do eventually see the real me still maintain that impression from cyberspace. Cold, bitchy, arrogant, aloof.

Some things never change even if you do.

Madonna is Evil

I have seen this video since some time back, but it only occurred to me recently how prophetic it might be. In any case, take a look at it first then you will know what I am talking about. Of course everyone remembered that infamous lesbian smooch between Madonna and Britney Spears. At that point of time, Madonna had just release her last single, "Hollywood" from her dismal album American Life. You would think her "Madgesty" had probably seen better days. Britney of course had yet to make her idiotic gaffs that had probably made immediate rival, Christina Aguilera, smirked with satisfaction.

Remarkably enough, not long after that Madonna made a spectacular comeback with Confessions On The Dancefloor while Britney's once glittering career was in ruins, spent on marrying obvious losers and making babies and also making a total ass out of herself. I also happened to read about an interview with Madonna on the gay magazine "Out" yesterday in where she tells her daughter Lourdes that the infamous liplock was some kind of "energy exchange" of sorts. Christ, everyone knows she's bitchy, but now she is just plain evil.

I almost feel sorry for Britney.

Almost.

Blow Hot, Blow Cold

No you perverts, it's not a new form of oral stimulation. I am talking about the weather these past few weeks. During the day it's so hot that you can make a stew at the sidewalk. On second thought, better not, because you're likely to burn a hole in your pot. Then on occasions during the night, it begins to rain cats and dogs and a cow or two although the past few days we're seeing less of those.

Take last weekend for example, not only was it hot but I also had the pleasure of my mom's company yet again in less than a week since her last visit. So to top it off we had errands to run around town. The city was literally baking, even keeping to the shade was no respite. I think the worst part was sending her off at the Puduraya bus station. I think I sweat so much it made my sweating in RPM look like a light misting and believe me, I sweat A LOT. The bus station felt like a furnace and the jostling people and haggling conductors only further aggravated my stretched limit. But of course, due to the fact that it was my mother I had to play gallant and accompany her for an hour plus before her bus arrived, even when she told I can leave. When she finally got onto the bus, I think I almost ran to the refuge of my car air conditioner. I think I would have ran too if I didn't think it would make me even more hotter. When I finally got back after the long drive home (of which the car air conditioner did little to alleviate my condition), I thought I would never be that fast and happy to get out of my clothes - sexual situations exempted.

Late into the night however, a freaky storm started to rage around my area. All a sudden without a warning, winds started whipping the trees outside like as if they were going to get uprooted. For a second, I almost thought it would. Can't say much about the rain though. I think I have pee that comes out stronger than the trickle I saw last night.

Slogan This

Did anyone notice the recent increase of cars with slogan stickers at the rear windscreen? You know, the kind usually with some witty words designed to either amuse or annoy the driver behind you. For me unfortunately, I fall in the category of the latter. At first it seem amusing because it was not exactly a common sight. Then some wise guy decided to mass produce the same lines and before you know it, everyone on the road has the same car stickers with the same annoying slogans. It often makes me want to make my own as a rebuttal to every one else's repetitive slogans. For instance:

"Little Kalifah on board" or other common variations of "Baby on board"
Reply: "I don't give a shit about that inbred retard you have on board"

"Honk if you're horny"
Reply: "I'll f*ck you if I'm horny"

"Not so close! I hardly know you!"
Reply: "Don't give yourself airs, now get out of my way bitch"

"You kiss, you pay!"
Reply: "I'll double the price, now suck my dick"

"Don't steal this car, the other other one is nicer..."
Reply: "I stole the other car and planted a bomb in yours"

So if you see a silver Kelisa come up behind you, do me a favour and remove the offensive piece of shit before I curse you down to seven generations.

Get Me A Dog

I often find myself annoyed at people with indecisiveness about being attracted to me. Is it so hard to just say it instead of circling around me like a demented hyena? Worst still are people who do that but they haven't even met you. I am not going to explain this but in this day, that's how all gay romances seem to start - from the anonymity of the internet. I however being the old fashioned type deem this totally ridiculous though the younger me would have been totally into it. Anyway, such is a typical online conversation derived from one of the "demented circling hyenas":

Anonymous: Hi, what are doing home early?
Me: Why? Cannot meh?
Anonymous: No mah, you usually don't come online at this hour...
Me: I am not staying long, just checking my mail, then I am going to bed.
Anonymous: OK lor... better not disturb you then...
Me: Why? You have anything to say to me?
Anonymous: No wor... do you have anything to say to me?
Me: Nope.
Anonymous: OK lor, then good night la.
Me: OK, good night.

Ten minutes later...

Anonymous: Wei...
Me: Yes? What are you still doing here?
Anonymous: That's the same question I should ask you?

(Christ...)

Anonymous: When are you sleeping?
Me: Soon, in a few more minutes.
Anonymous: OK, then good night la...
Me: Good night.

Another ten minutes later...

Anonymous: Wei...
Me: Yes?
Me: Again?
Anonymous: Lucky you still haven't gone offline hehe.
Anonymous: Can I ask you something?
Me: Ask lor...
Anonymous: Last night I try to come online through my mobile, did you see me ar?
Me: I didn't come online last night.
Anonymous: Sure or not?
Me: Yes, I was watching TV.
Anonymous: So you didn't receive my message?
Me: If I did receive it I would have answered.
Anonymous: Sure or not? I am not VIP to you also.
Me: Yes, very sure.
Anonymous: OK lor, bye lah...
Me: Yes, bye... again. *Goes invisible*

Ten years of gay dating and I have come to these conclusions.

The ones you like will never like you back or will just date you half-heartedly and then dump you like a pair of ill-fitting shoes leaving you a brokenhearted mess. They will also leave you asking (as Vanessa Williams put it) "How could you give your love to someone else and share your dreams with me". They will treat you like their best buddy as they make constant use of you for their own contentment. Either way, you will always be the fool.

The ones whom are mutually attracted to you as you are to them will never confess and instead play a hide and seek game with you. When you eventually give up, they will come back to haunt you after a period of time asking (either you or mutual friends) why didn't you try to go further with them. Either that or they will make it seem like you've wronged them.

The ones that like you are never the types you want. Enough said.

I give up. There will never be any satisfaction or happiness to derive from the so called "other half" when it seems more than often a burdensome extension rather than the missing piece.

Pool Prodigal

After a long absence, I have finally made a return to my favourite sport before gym came along and sucked up most of my evening hours: swimming. It took me much procrastination before I could make myself go again. It must have been at least over a year when I last visited the public pool, which is in Bangsar by the way and not the notorious Kelana Jaya one. Gym was not the primary reason that kept me away though. The last time I was there, a kid learning how to swim threw a tantrum in the pool and then proceeded to copiously puke his lunch at the poolside drain, much to the disgust of his instructor and my horror. The instructor then scolded him about how he is always puking at the pool. My eyes widened at the thought of the kid vomiting frequently at the pool. If you think that was bad, few minutes later he climbed out of the pool and relieved his bladder right at the same spot, without removing his trunks. And then he jumped right back in. The instructor appeared traumatised. I on the other had my last straw, and I couldn't evacuate from the pool fast enough. Either I could really smell the urea and puke or my mind was playing tricks on me. All the kid's unapologetic mother could do was chastise her kid in a way someone would to a cute puppy who made a mess.

"Sanjay! NOOOO! You shouldn't do that!"

OK well I don't think his name was Sanjay. I just used the name to emphasize on how Indian the whole exchange was. Anyway I was too traumatised at the thought of the contaminated pool, so I stayed away in what was initially just suppose to be a few months till the pool was cleansed. I did not relish the thought of visiting the cruisy Kelana Jaya pool or the freezing 3K indoor pool at Subang Jaya, so that brought me to the present - the return of the prodigal.

Now I chose the mid-afternoon hour because I thought that would be the time when fussy mothers would keep their pests hidden indoors in fear of the sun. Turns out I was wrong. What initially turned out to be just a family began to multiply to several menaces of all shapes and sizes. Obese children began jumping into the pool. Some of these obese kids had long trailing langsuir-like hair which threatened to choke the unsuspecting swimmer who swims too close. Some of these obese kids were also fully clothed despite written rules stating one should be in proper swimming attire. Soon after, the flabby uncles came along, followed by the inevitable hirsute Indian who looked like he was wearing a gorilla costume. Annoying children seem to be bumping into me on purpose despite me being stationary between laps and all their equally irritating mothers could do was smile encouragingly. It wasn't long before the whole pool began to resemble the aftermath of a tsunami. One hour and a few laps later, I found myself in gym again.

Oh well, at least I got a nice tan from it.

Soft Places

Fourth Dream

I do not recall much about this one. Perhaps I took too long to record it. The earliest part I could recall from it was that I was catching the coverage of the end of the world on television. The world was strangely calm despite the knowledge that everyone was doomed. Suddenly I was in the scene on TV. I was at some beachfront. There was a huge manor facing it and there were people milling about on the beach. The weather was dreary. I knew it was cold, not because I felt it, but because it was snowing. Large snowflakes were falling from the dark skies. So large, you could see the patterns on them, yet they were falling ever so gently. Somehow I knew I was in England though I have never been there. The people were dressed in Edwardian styled clothing. All seem calm and collected, looking towards the sea. They were anticipating something, but what? Were they waiting for the world to end?

*missing memory*

It was no longer the end of the world anymore. Somehow the situation in the dream had transitioned. But I was still in England with my mom. I went off alone to walk along the streets. None of the buildings look familiar to me. I wanted to go to the beach but the beach was filthy. The water was murky and there were all sorts of debris washed up along the shore. All a sudden I was walking among bookshelves, and the street was no longer a street but it seem to be some kind of huge bookstore. On the shelves were a lot of art related books and magazines but all of them seem to be outdated. I couldn't remember the titles but I think one of them spelled, "How to Draw Couples in Love".

*missing memory*

Fifth Dream

*missing memory*

I was in some kind of meeting. I forgot what it was about but I was bored. I decided to escape to the washroom. I calmly went through the door that clearly said "GENTS" but strangely there were women inside of it. The women stared at me as if I was the intruder. I went back to the door again and it still clearly said, "GENTS". Another woman came through the door and she seem shocked to see me there, and then she became angry.

"What are you doing here?!" she asked angrily.

"This is the gents, I think you're in the wrong place," I answered.

"I don't believe you!" she replied back.

So I took her to the door and showed her the sign. She covered her mouth in embarrassment, and then she quickly left without another word. After a while, a guy came in, he looked pretty ordinary but attractive in a way. He smiled at me and made some small talk which I couldn't remember what. He asked me if I would like to do lunch with him and I agreed. We came out of the washroom and without surprise, it seem to lead right onto a street. It was suppose to be somewhere in KL, but it looked more like Singapore. I followed him as he lead the way. I knew he was interested in me. Halfway following him, I seem to find something wrong with my pants and I had to take them off. RIGHT ON THE STREETS! No one even seem to care or notice that I was standing there with my pants off in ridiculous looking boxers (though I don't wear boxers in real life).

I had to find a place to put my pants on again and I quickly darted into this shop. I couldn't really describe it, just that it looked more like some kind of emporium. So I slipped my pants on again but when I came out I had lost the guy. I didn't know how to find him again because I don't even have his number and he didn't have mine. I remember being only slightly disappointed.

*missing memory*

I was cycling home on a mountain bike. When I came home, my mom told me someone was waiting for me. There was someone lying on my couch reading. When I went around it, I saw it was the same guy I lost on the streets. He smiled, and somehow I thought it was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.

"Hey!"

Somehow he had found my number through the newspaper which he showed me. That was when I realised that the number was not mine, and that I was not even myself. I was someone else.

Cheeky Cheeky

Hitz.fm this morning was apparently clearing old hits from their database. These "old hits" were apparently none other than the audio terrorists of yesteryears. I am talking about songs like The Ketchup Song, The Cheeky Song (Touch My Bum) and probably a host of other irritating lala beng "hits" like Macarena, Blue (Da Ba Dee) and God-knows-what-else. Notice how all the titles doesn't even seem to make any sense? The Cheeky Song? Touch My Bum? Why not Squeeze My Boobies while they're at it.

So anyway there I was arriving at the office and I was struggling to find my season parking pass while I opened my car windows. As I slipped the pass into the slot, I'd suddenly noticed to my horror, that Dr Bombay's Calcutta (a.k.a. Taxi, Taxi, Taxi) was playing relatively loudly on my radio. Loud enough for anyone within a 10 meter radius to hear. Nearby was a bank, a cafeteria and a restaurant. Right across the road was a school. I have inadvertently showed the world that I was a lala beng sans the multi-coloured bad hair and Harajuku fashion. Needless to say, I couldn't close the window fast enough to control the damage. And it didn't occur to me to just change the radio station.

Fuck.

Snakes & Ladders

Third Dream

*missing memory*

I was in the gym. It was suppose to be Fitness First but it does not look like any of the Fitness First outlets I am familiar with. Someone who shall not be named was there but I do not look at him. Even in my dreams I have a dislike for him.

*missing memory*

I was walking to the locker and shower room. Like the rest of the gym it does not look familiar. I went to use the showers and it definitely looks unfamiliar. The shower stalls suddenly seem to resemble some kind of kampung house toilet. Yes, TOILET! In fact it seem more like the shower was a squatting toilet with the shower head right above. The toilet was filthy but I used it to shower anyway. Even stranger, the door seem to have some kind of netting where you can look out but people from outside can't look in.

*missing memory*

We had left the gym. I don't know who "we" were but they seem to be my friends. Only one of them was someone I know; Manny, a fellow instructor from the gym. We were going up this house on the hill. I don't know whose house it was or why we were going there. Funny thing in dreams you don't ask questions such as these, you just do what you have to do. The house was just an ordinary house, not big, not small either. In the house's grounds were a lot of snakes, but I didn't know this yet until we reached the gate, and someone yelled and ran. And then I saw it, one of the snakes, it reared its head aggressively and hissed at me. I jumped around to avoid it. That's when I noticed there were dead snakes all around. Some bloodied, some mutilated, some dismembered. I ran clumsily to avoid stepping on the gruesome sight all around me. An intruder had killed the snakes. Suddenly we were all on guard. I picked up a stick and from the hand of one of my companions I grabbed what seem to resemble a part of a broken umbrella. I was wielding it like as if it was some kind of lightsaber.

"I think you would need something stronger than that," Manny said, gesturing at my pathetic looking stick.

"It's ok," I replied quite confidently.

As we progressed cautiously towards the house, someone had swept away all the corpses of the snakes. Two of us finally reached the opened front door, and I went for the nearest room. I threw open the door and swung my "weapon" around offensively and yelled, "FREEZE! DON'T MOVE!". But in the room was just a half-dressed guy and I somehow knew he was a tenant of the house.

"What...?!" he replied, obviously shocked at my intrusion.

I did not answer him and proceeded to check the rest of the house. I knew whoever killed the snakes was gone. Suddenly I was sitting down, with both my parents on either side of me. From the top level of the house, a group of blonde young girls in very girlish dresses came trooping down but there were no stairs, just half-completed metal ladders. When they came to the unfinished rung, they just made a huge leap down and landed neatly on their feet. Though I never seen them in my life, I knew they were daughters of a friend who lived in the house.

My father said, "It would be good to have some young children in the house."

"Not unless they are yours," my mother quipped

"Just try to think about when we were young," I said.

And then I woke up.

In Memoriam

Boris Yeltsin
1931 - 2007

Dream Log

First Dream

In my dream he was going out with my ex. He was someone who completed my life a year ago, and then it ended against my wishes. My EX. Both of them were sitting side by side in this cafeteria place that I have never seen before but can only be conjured up in dreams.

"Yeah, they have been seeing each other," Vince suddenly told me. He just appeared out of nowhere in the way that is only possible in dreams.

Stab to the heart. I remembered trying to move out of sight.

*missing memory*

I was crying, and he was trying to comfort me. I didn't give a shit about the ex. But I was upset about him. He held me and told me not to cry. I think I wanted to tell him how much I still love and miss him but I can't remember if I did. But he didn't need to be told does he?

*missing memory*

I was in this place that resembled one of those ancient South American Mayan/Incan temple complexes. Some crazy priest was holding us prisoner. "Us"? "Us" was a group of people I don't seem to know. The crazy priest had opened a tomb and in it was the richly decorated skeleton of some long dead lord. He poured some flammable stuff into the tomb and said he was going to burn the remains, and when it is gone one of us will have to lie in the tomb. The person he referred to was specific, and it was this blond woman who was with us. Suddenly she was lying on the slab above the tomb, dressed in white. I knew I had to stop him. I picked up a stick and bludgeoned the crazy old man. Although he appeared affected by the blows he didn't seem injured, and then he said he would follow us.

*missing memory*

Second Dream

I was in this theatre. The kind where you do live plays in. I don't remember what we were discussing about but Nicholas Cage was among us. Not just ordinary Nicholas Cage, but an old Nicholas Cage. When we were done talking, I offered to walk Mr Cage to wherever he needed to go. I offered him my arm to hold and he gladly took it.

"I just watched one of your movies recently, Mr Cage," I said casually as he shuffled along.

"Oh really, which one?" he replied.

I found I couldn't remember the name of the movie and I was trying to describe it to him, and he passively suggested a few titles. None of which I remembered.

"The Vampire's Kiss," I suddenly remembered.

He just nodded absently.

When we reached our destination he said, "Next time, go watch something more worthwhile with your friends,".

I guess he didn't really liked that movie either. And "your friends"? I watched that movie alone.

Jack Ass

"You had a hundred billion chances and ways to have avoided today. But you decided to spill my blood. You forced me into a corner and gave me only one option. The decision was yours. Now you have blood on your hands that will never wash off."

"Your Mercedes wasn't enough, you brats. Your golden necklaces weren't enough, you snobs. Your trust funds wasn't enough. Your vodka and cognac wasn't enough. All your debaucheries weren't enough. Those weren't enough to fulfill your hedonistic needs. You had everything."

Oh yeah, Mr Cho, you certainly made a point there. The point that you will be nothing more than the loser jack ass that you always were. I'm sorry if I sound harsh, but the whole shooting incident at Virginia Tech, Blacksburg is absurd. Not that I am insensitive to the people who lost their lives and those who were affected by it. What kind of world have we come to where self righteous nerds go around shooting fellow students just because they couldn't get over their own angst. Seriously, evaluate it yourself, and you will realise the whole incident was stupid and sad to say, those 32 people died a meaningless death. There was no point to prove and there is really nothing to learn from it.

Few million years of evolution and here we are, buffoons who give way to their emotions to kill. So perhaps we are no different from our cousins at the lower end of the gene pool. At least animals kill to survive. This dim wit here killed because he doesn't have what other people have. Oh God, fucking get over yourself. You certainly did the right thing by killing yourself after your stupid deed. You're a waste of resources. The only tragedy is those other people have to die with you.

"Oooo... Lookit me, I am gonna blow my brains out because I can't be hedonistic like you!"

*Update

Colleague: Hey look, they have pictures of the Virginia Tech shooter online (colleague is rather slow with international news).
Me: It's been on since yesterday.
Colleague: Shit. (apparently shocked at the pictures)
Me: I think he looks like an idiot.
Colleague: Yeah man...

Enough said.

Awwwww...

Now normally I am not a fan of animal movies. Why? Because they all tend to be stereotypical and tend to have scenes designed specifically to not only pull at your heartstrings but to forcefully yank at them till you are reduced to a wide eyed chibi going "Awwwwww...". But due to unforeseen circumstances, my intended purchase Perfume: The Story of a Murderer turned out to be a horribly censored copy with skips, so I ended up exchanging it for Charlotte's Web.

"What a huge difference!" said Sean.

Yes, from a pseudo-art movie about an insane body-odour obsessed killer to a good old-fashioned family movie designed specifically to make you go "Awwwww...". From the moment I set eyes on the DVD cover, I knew I was trapped.

Awwwwww...

Even the normally annoying Dakota Fanning who makes you want to bash her squealing character in War of the Worlds looks so sweet she makes you go.... yes you guessed it:

Awwwwww...

And who would have thought a villainous husband stealer like Julia Roberts who was so convincingly bitchy in Erin Brokovich could give life to the selfless spider Charlotte with her voice?

Awwwwww...

And all of the rest of the farm animals, voiced by such a star-studded cast which includes, Oprah Winfrey, Kathy Bates, Reba McEntire, Robert Redford, Steve Buscemi and John Cleese, they were simply adorable.

Awwwwww...

As expected, the ending just simply makes your heart bleed at the sheer goodness of the whole movie. Down to the closing credits with the theme "Ordinary Miracle" by my favourite artist Sarah McLachlan totally makes me go...

Play-Doh of God

"BASEL, Switzerland (Reuters) - Steel and coal from the Titanic have been transformed into a new line of luxury wristwatches that claim to capture the essence of the legendary oceanliner which sank in 1912."

Are crocodiles scary? Maybe. Are tigers dangerous? Perhaps. Are sharks really bloodthirsty killers? Could be (although scientists say otherwise). But I think God made a mistake when he created humans. Or maybe He is just a Great Child who fashioned us out of cosmic Play-Doh and then like all children tend to be with a new toy, lost interest in us after a while. Over time, His creations ran amok on evolution, and one day decided to make watches out of the remains of a tragedy. No doubt if this happened in 1917, people of that era would have viewed it in bad taste. It would be like making toilet bowls out of ground up rubble of the World Trade Centre. 95 years from now this might just come true, and people of the future would worship the long deceased author of this blog as the new Nostradmus. But it would feel luxurious wouldn't it, crapping on the recycled rubble of America's "Greatest Tragedy" which probably contains miniscule remnants of its victims.

Speaking of human remains, anyone read about the company which could turn human cremains (that's the word for the remains of a cremated body) into a diamond? Yes folks, what they do is take your late grandmother's ashes and subject her carbon to intense pressure to artificially create a diamond. I can imagine the conversation now:

Dream guy: Hey, I have been watching you all night and I think you're hot.
Me: Oh gosh... hehe...
Dream guy: My name is [insert hot name] by the way, and I am wearing my grandmother around my finger.
Me: Uh... *stares at diamond ring in disbelief*

Or worse:

Dream guy: Darling, we have been together for some time...
Me: Yes?
Dream guy: Would you marry me? *on bended knee presenting diamond ring*
Me: OH GOD! YES YES YES!!! Oh baby, it's beautiful!
Dream guy: *Puts ring on my finger* I'm so glad you like it! It's made out of my grandmother by the way. Grandma, you look over my baby now.
Me: ...

It's like meeting the man of my dreams, and then meeting his beautiful pressurized grandmother.

Humans... joy.

Curse You Fetish Thieves

I seem to have lost my pants somewhere in the gym. It's the second time this have happened. And these are one of my favourite Nike 3/4 tights which cost me RM100+ which I bought after much consideration about over a year ago. Not that someone pinned me down and removed my pants forcefully of course, but apparently I seem to have left them in the shower last week but did not notice the loss until I put away my laundry yesterday night. A call to the gym reception revealed there were no pants of that description in the lost and found. Which can only mean some dishonest sodding thief conveniently claimed it for his own. It makes me wonder what disturbed person would take someone else's intimate belongings, sweat-soaked ones at that. I do believe my underwear was still in them. It's like stealing someone's used tampon and using it...

I mean I can understand if someone was to just take your mp3 player or handphone but soiled pants, shoes, or any article of clothing is just plain disgusting. So whoever took my pants, if you even venture to put it on, washed or otherwise, I curse your dick with an incurable rot which will spread slowly and soon engulf your entire genitalia causing it to fall off in tiny chunks. And that won't be the end, the rot will then spread slowly through your body inside out, causing your insides to decompose. Eventually your body will bloat up but you won't die yet you fetish thief, till your belly explodes in a hail of stinking liquified offal.

Gorillas in the Mass

Disclaimer: The entry below may contain contents offensive to certain readers. Read at your own discretion

Nickkiest: Let's go to church?
Me: Huh? What? Why all a sudden?
Nickkiest: Dunno? Just feel like going. Come la!
Me: Me? Go to church? Me? The heathen pagan sodomite?

That was exactly my reaction to Nickkiest's suggestion to go for Easter Mass. Don't be misled into thinking that I am one of those guys that used to be a good Catholic boy until the day I was corrupted by homosexual debaucheries. The fact is I was never an avid church goer because I was never a Christian in the first place - hence the heathen pagan part. Though I am not exactly a stranger in church, I never had pleasant memories of my visits. The last time I sat through a Sunday service, I left feeling disgusted at the priest's bigoted and narrow minded preaching. As much as I understood the Catholic Church's stand on homosexual relations, I was kind of flabbergasted when the priest mentioned "mixed marriages are bad". Though I might have misunderstood what he meant by that, it is that kind of clumsy statement that puts people off and throws the whole of Christianity into bad light. I have great respect for Christianity, just like any other religion, just not most of its hopelessly outdated human made ideologies.

Such was the case when Nickkiest led me into an Easter Sunday service last Saturday. The fact that I was not a Christian made me itch. Now I know exactly what the phrase "stood out like a sore thumb" meant. Not that the swarm of Catholics noticed a heathen in their midst, even if he was wearing a pagan symbol around his neck (I have a penchant for ankhs). I was also dealing with the reality that I was cooking underneath my denim jacket on a balmy Saturday evening among the throngs of Easter devotees. Not that I had a choice, because I didn't find it particularly respectful to be exposing too much flesh in a holy place since I was wearing a sleeveless underneath. It kind of left me cursing when I caught sight of a rather pasty flabby lala boy wearing a black tank top. Why me, the heathen even bothered with his dressing I had no idea.

Barely 15 minutes into the service, I was starting to get bored. Forgive me, but even though I am not a Christian I had hoped at least the service would have been inspiring. Unfortunately that wasn't the case. I will spare the details lest I offend my Christian friends. Let's just say I didn't get the divine revelations or cultural sights that I've hoped for. 40 minutes into it, Nickkiest began to have his doubts and regrets about coming. Our whispered criticisms didn't go unnoticed by an elderly woman in front of us who gave me a dirty look. Not that she heard what we said of course but she probably found our conversation unacceptable while the priest was talking. Like she even paid any attention - I could have sworn she dozed off a few times through the readings. Very soon we were devolved into speaking to each other via typed texts on our mobiles. I know, it was very rude behaviour, but we just couldn't help ourselves. Anything would have been less dangerous than nodding off.

Finally we just couldn't stand it anymore, so we left before the service was done - half guilt ridden for our unbecoming behaviour and half glad that we took flight. I had partially hoped that maybe a sudden bolt of lightning would strike me down for my sins of blasphemy. Even that might have been a divine revelation, albeit a painful and deadly one. I had always wanted to see what a Christmas mass is like but last Saturday's experience have kind of left me feeling doubtful of the idea. Lord save us.

In Memoriam

Johnny Hart
1931 - 2007

Blood & Testosterone

That's what I thought would have been a better title for the movie "300", though I am sure the ingenious Malay translation of "300 Pahlawan Berani Mati" or something along that line was very good also. If I had to listen to Gerard Butler yell "SPARTANS!!" or "SPARTA!!" one more time I swear I will develop a rash, in my ear canal.

"SPARTAAAAAA!!!!"
Leonidas does his manly thing, and you wonder why their helmets are so thick.

Yes, after much delaying and failure to procure tickets to this movie, I finally got around to watching it after three weeks since its Malaysian release. Accompanying me also was Sean, a fellow movie enthusiast who had also miraculously missed the early bird bandwagons to catch the much hyped movie. Though I have no choice but to agree that the generous show of muscular male physiques was very... ahem, impressive, the massive overdose of testosterone and male camaraderie was quite gagging. It's enough to make you want to put them on your lap and spank the manliness out of those well formed asses.

"I am beautiful, no matter what you say... words can't bring me down~"
Leonidas does his not so manly thing. Queen Gorgo appears stunned.

Who am I to say anyway, perhaps ancient Sparta was very much as Zack Snyder portrayed it. I have to admit, the whole over-the-top imagery was quite breathtaking (except the Oracle's suspiciously beer-commercial like trance sequence) . Nevermind that it was not 100% historically accurate (when was any movie anyway), so critics, Iranians, Persians, self-appointed-historians and whatevers can put a sock into it because movies are made for entertainment. Get it? EN-TER-TAIN-MENT. It often baffles me as to how world leaders can make an ass out of themselves over a work of fiction when ordinary citizens can just laugh about it in good nature.

"All you have to do, is just bend over... I mean, kneel before me..."
How they made hottie Rodrigo Santoro into this over-sized drag queen baffles me.

Sean and I were having this this little exchange as we were coming out after the movie:

Sean: Sparta doesn't look like a very nice place to be born in, in those times, does it? (referring to their practice of abandoning weak/malformed/defective babies on Mt Taygetos to die).
Me: Oh well, I wasn't exactly born defective, maybe if I was born there I could have had those abs that I so badly wanted by now.
Sean: ...

I think Sean summed up 300 pretty nicely:

"Next time can we just go watch a good old fashion romantic comedy?"

For once, I had to agree. Now I have to suffer a few weeks of insecurity every time I take a look in the mirror. God damn it.

Visual DNA

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Wanderlust

I suddenly developed this irresistible urge to travel to places where I have never been before. I want to see things I have never seen before, experience culture which I have never experienced, walk in foreign soil, breathe the different air and Sean will probably rejoice in this, taste the different food. My friends seem to regale tales of their travels all the time and I find myself wondering why I put myself off all the time from doing the same, traveling I mean. I think I can afford it though I am not exactly a very well-to-do person but for some reason I am just afraid to use the money which I had worked so hard for. Ok well, sometimes not so hard. Here are some of the places I hope to visit one day.

Prince Edward Island, Canada

Florence, Italy

Cairo, Egypt

Athens, Greece

Provence, France

I think I get very frustrated sometimes with myself. Those who know me well enough will know I am not exactly a spendthrift. It is a habit I picked up from young. Ever since the day I stepped foot in a kindergarten right up till I was Form 6, I have never received a cent of pocket money. Not that my parents wouldn't give, just that I had never asked for it. I'd only ever asked for money whenever I required to buy something, which gave my parents direct control over what I bought. The things that I bought without my parents knowing, came from the money I saved over years of angpow money from Chinese New Years. Even that, the only things I ever was willing to spend on were books. Bear in my mind that my two elder brothers receive pocket money regularly, for some reason I seem to be excluded from the "payroll".

Which brings me now back to the present. My forced habit of being a miser has somewhat dulled my enthusiasm to spend on entertainment. When I eat, I think about venues that would give me the most by paying less, when I want to travel, I think about the dent it will cause in my accounts. Sometimes I wish I could just tell myself to screw it while I empty my account

Procrastination

There are simple tasks in my everyday life which I could do as easily as just snapping my fingers, such as just spending one minute to record down my daily timesheet . Instead I put it off and spend 20 minutes on writing this pointless entry. I digress, my procrastination is beginning to cause me grief as a mountain of chores await me at home. The flat is in dire need of cleaning and I swear the never-ending army of spiders which regularly return to nest in my corners were having an sm party with some poor hapless moths last night.

Books are starting to pile all over my floor because of my uncontrollable reading habit and I have ran out of space to store them - also because I have been procrastinating on buying a new bookcase. And along with my book purchases are the plastic bags they came with. This together with the plastic bags I continuously bring home from packing my dirty laundry at gym is beginning to get really unsightly. I could easily just throw these away, but the environmentalist in me believes I should be sparing in unleashing these into the environment. It takes me weeks to fill up one average plastic bag with garbage, and I am bringing back one plastic bag everyday. You do the math. On a side note, whenever my mom comes to visit, she can somehow amazingly produce enough garbage to fill one plastic bag to the brim within less than 12 hours. Speaking of garbage, my bags of recyclables are way overdue for the recycling centre but yet I put this off week after week.

Despite my obsession in making my flat look pretty, I can be really apathetic sometimes when it comes to clearing things away. For instance, weeks back when Laynie and MRS OKABE came over. Now MRS OKABE is a chronic snacker. Not only is he a snacker, he also happens to be a picky snacker. He snubbed my mom's homemade chocolate coated cookies for sugar laden Cadbury candies which he conveniently helped himself to from my fridge. After satisfying himself, he just dumps the wrappers on my side table - which I only noticed ONE WEEK later. Actually this may be more due to the frequency I am at home but Sam, if you're reading this, I AM NOT PLEASED. I should have a cattle prod handy whenever he comes to visit.

Paradox

In this life, I have more dislikes than likes. I blame it on the cynical streak I'd probably inherited from my mother. More than often I get a heavier dose of dislikes than likes, which again like the vicious cycle that is my life reinforces the cynicism in me. Like for instance:

I hate being gay but there is just nothing one can really do about that, or is there? Turn straight? Get a girlfriend? Get married? Punch out a few kids? Hooray, sounds hopeful already. Maybe I am generalising but I feel there is nothing more annoying than gay people (next to stupid politicians), but look, I am one of them. So therefore I am annoyed at myself. It's karma.

I don't like not having any close friends. Perhaps it is the cynicism in me that prevents me from forming a close bond to anyone or maybe it is just that people are just natural hypocrites. I like communicating but I get easily frustrated when people do not understand me. And lo behold, most of my friends are gay, so therefore I must be annoyed at my friends too.

I hate being bored and alone. Okay, maybe sometimes I don't, the latter I mean. There are times when I would just daydream away about being filthy rich so I could entertain any whim which comes into my mind - I would never suffer from boredom. Jet off to any country like as if it is just a drive down to the convenience store. But since I am not, I will just have to suffer in silence and wallow in the rut.

I hate myself for not being born pretty. Prettiness rules the world because everybody likes pretty things. Pretty will get you anywhere just as long as you continue being pretty. It won't matter that you won't look so pretty when you hit 40, at least all the good things you collected in your 40 years of being pretty will last you through the next 40. Besides, I don't intend to live beyond 39. But I am not pretty, so I will have to continue to use my brains to get ahead. However, even being brainy will require you to have a pretty face for acceptance, otherwise everyone will just think you're being an arrogant bitter cunt, so why even bother.

I can't remember when was the last time when I passed through a day without some form self restraint and feeling like I want to sink my fist into someone's face. I can't remember when was the last time I felt at peace with myself and the world.

Silkworms

I feel like writing but no topic comes to my head. In truth, there are plenty of things in my head just that it is hard to sort them out now when I can hardly keep awake. It's another quiet day in the office and for once I find myself devoid of work in a long time. Can't say I am not thankful, just that I wish i didn't have to feel so bored all the time. Actually I feel bored whether there is work or not and it all culminates in a vicious cycle. I feel bored, therefore I do not feel inspired to work, and as a result my mind begins to wander, causing me to eventually get sleepy. While I am fighting to keep awake, I get frustrated because my work is getting delayed due to my inability to concentrate. For any designer, there can't be any worse situation to be in than to feel bored with his/her job.

Once upon a time, I would shirk off from my studies to indulge in art. Now I can't remember the last time when I felt any passion to indulge in anything art related. I blame it on responsibilities. That and passion simply don't mix. There were two stages in my life when I experienced how responsibility turned passion into a burden. When I was kid I had a voracious appetite for science - up till it became a subject in school. Then it became tiresome, and my breaking point came when I forced to study it in depth. I was interested in knowing factoids, not delve into formulas like E = mc2. What was the point? Just how many of us are going to make a life out of doing that? Especially not in this country too. So from there I went into my favourite pastime, art. The moment I stepped into university, I found my abilities stifled by rigid rules which lecturers claimed are the basic principles of art. I recalled once in painting class, the lecturer gave me a C+ because he said I wasn't expressing myself, merely illustrating. Jesus... so now people think they could psycho-analyse what I paint and draw. Maybe I would have got an A+ for sexual angst if I ejaculated and peed all over my canvas. Joining the creative industries didn't help expand my creativity either, rather the contrary. I found myself increasingly stifled by artistically-challenged clients and bosses who insisted I should think out of the box but yet at the same time confine me to their rules.

So I find myself now in the present. What do I do in my free time when I am not burdened with work? Surfing for totally useless factoids in Wikipedia, reading on things from how zhi gung practitioners view masturbation as "spiritual suicide" to how silkworms get massacred in their pupae so as not to damage their silk cocoons. Maybe we are all just like the silkworms, majority massacred prematurely for what we can do, not what we can potentially be, while the rest are bred to continue the vicious cycle. I miss the days of childhood when everyday seemed like a new discovery instead of this current jaded mockery of existence.

Stray Leaders

It's rather appalling for me to read in the papers today of the Johor Housing and Local Government Committee casually stating that they are short of dog shooters and are promising to continue a systematic eradication of stray dogs. Seriously, like what the fuck? I am sure it is an added bonus to know that they are also systematically eradicating common sense as well. Surely there must be a rational and humane way of dealing with the problem? I mean all the harping about how Westerners should look into the root cause of terrorism instead of waging an all out war on so called terrorist sponsoring Middle Eastern countries, and they can't apply the same concept on some poor defenseless canines? What about educating the public and imposing heavier penalties on people who abandon and abuse their pets?

And why should dogs be singled out all the time. I am not about to make any big conclusion here but I am suspecting the harassment of canines comes from the fact that they are considered "unclean" by certain people. Have anyone ever seen local councils declaring "systematic eradication" of cats? Hell, have anyone ever even heard of anyone doing anything to stray cats other than the hypocritical SPCA (no offence, but I have a personal vendetta against SPCA) occasionally highlighting their plight.

Do cats also not have the possibility of carrying rabies? I am not discriminating cats or saying that the authorities should also start shooting cats just to be fair. Felines share just the same amount of abuse as their canine counterparts, though not the same amount of prejudice. What I am trying to highlight here is that the so called menace that the authorities would like us to believe exist with stray dogs is probably just as bogus their "beautification projects". There is simply no plausible excuse to state that stray dogs are dangerous. As far as I knew and experienced, stray cats have also been known to attack humans. Majority of time all strays, cats or dogs will flee at the sight of humans anyway, and I wonder why? Fear of stupid humans perhaps? If you don't shoot cats why do you have to shoot dogs?

Or why not a systematic eradication of rats which by the way can carry up to thirty different diseases dangerous to humans including the bubonic plague. There seems to be an abundance of these rodents hanging around in eateries that sighting them is as common as the morning jam. Go figure. Maybe we should do a systematic eradication of idiotic leaders instead. Yup, I say let us just shoot them on sight like dogs (pun intended).

Obsession

You will know you have a problem when you realise point-blank that you could possibly be doing something severely detrimental to yourself but you are still doing it. Such was my case yesterday, when I found myself struggling in the gym despite being just barely recovered from a case of fever and diarrhoea. Though I did have my class done by a replacement on the day the ailment struck, I was back to the routine again barely 24 hours later (yes, all this despite me complaining being bored of my routine life in my previous entry).

I was feeling the strain already right after my class and I knew my weakened body simply could not take the strain of a session at the weights section. But yet despite my body faltering, I was there. With each push at the bench press I could hear a voice in my head yelling at me that I was insane. My muscles were a chorus of tormented screams but yet I still managed to struggle through three exercises before I finally stopped. Not because I was finally giving in to my condition but more because I realised it was getting late. So why did I do it? Part vanity, part masochist - I simply refused to allow myself to be weak.

It can be a real pain when you are conditioned to believe that all things good come with a price...

Snagged

Bitter and dejected, that's how I felt last Friday night. I know I shouldn't be because I know it's none of my friends' fault, but still I couldn't contain the flood that was welling inside. I don't want to sound like I am glorifying myself yet again but I have always did what I could when friends needed me, albeit sometimes reluctantly but most people who know me understands I never begrudge anyone when it comes to rendering assistance. For some reason, last Friday night I just did not feel like I wanted to be alone after finishing work at the gym after 10pm so I started calling up friends in hopes I can at least have some company for dinner. However phone call after phone call left me feeling more and more angst. Calls were not answered or I was simply given a brush off. Maybe I shouldn't use the word "brush off" because technically my friends had no obligation to entertain me anyway at such short notice so they had every right to decline me and certainly no malice were meant. It was Friday night after all.

I think I became desperate enough to call up someone who lived totally out of the way and in a place I was not even familiar with, but of course, the reply was the same. In the end, I just went back to the McDonald's nearby my home and resigned myself to wallow over junk food. By that time, friends who were not answering my calls earlier had started calling back but I was no longer in a mood to talk and explain myself, so I just rejected all the calls. It's not that I was really angry or blaming them for anything.

The experience left me questioning about who I am really. Earlier in the day, a colleague of mine was discussing with me over lunch about the meaning of all our existence. It wasn't about the spiritual aspect, more towards what kind of lives are we all leading. Are we more than the routine we live everyday - wake up, traffic jam, office, work, work, work and more work. In the night, I practically force myself into an exercise routine which is both mixture of work and self-disciplining. Sometimes when I think about it, I feel like I am some kind of pet rodent to some higher being. At the end of the day, what does it all mean? I must admit, I never questioned myself over this other than the fact that I know I am bored with my routine life.

Longing For The Tuscan Sun

After lending my Under The Tuscan Sun DVD to a friend for months, I finally got it back over the weekend. And just out of a whim, I decided to watch it again last night. For obviously clear reasons, I simply love the movie for the plain feel-good theme. Generally I am not a sucker for romantic movies but I do like the genre. I am just not for the whole nauseating over-the-top Titanic kind of romance which just leaves you wishing both the protagonists would shut up and die horribly. Under The Tuscan Sun, though having a predictable happy ending was more about letting go and taking life by the horns.

Very loosely based on the memoirs of Frances Mayes, the movie puts the author in a fictional setting as a depressed, recently divorced writer, Frances (Diane Lane) who is sent on a gay tour of Italy by her lesbian friend, Patti (Sandra Oh). Out of an impulse, she purchases a dilapidated villa in Tuscany and finds a new life in her new home. The best part of the movie has to be how they played around with how in one of her depressed state, Frances expresses her doubts in ever having a family to fill the home she just bought and that she wanted there to be a wedding. In the end, she gets her wish, though not in exactly the way she expected. Lindsay Duncan as the eccentric advice dispensing English expatriate, Katherine was a joy to watch.

The movie was also partly the reason why I am saving up so I could take a trip to Italy one day. Not so much as hoping that I can experience the same thing in the movie (what am I going to purchase a villa in Tuscany with?), but more to just see the same sights. As Sandra Oh's character said, "How can you say no to Italy?". Would be fun though if you can buy a nice little villa in some rural part of Italy and live a life without worry. Just take a look at the picture on the left. What I would do to wake up to a scene like this every morning rather than rows and rows of generic sterile flats and terrace houses on stripped earth and screwed up LDP traffic.

Dream Lover

One of the most common question I am asked, especially by people whom I know from the internet, is the one about what kind of guy is my type. Well ideally, he should look should look like this:

Don't even ask me who that is because I don't know. I don't even remember how this guy's picture came to be in my possession. I just recalled saving it into my Photobucket account so I could one day use it to illustrate on this topic. So if the person reading this is the person in the picture above, I apologise in advance but I did not intend to turn you into an object of my fevered fantasies. Just trying to illustrate a point here. That aside, you can now proceed to get in touch with me... just kidding.

I will not begin to even deny that I prefer a good looking guy. Years ago when I was still a idealistic teenager in denial I will probably say that looks don't matter. Now that I am old enough to be a little more shameless, I will say looks matters above all else when it comes to first impression. Whatever our intelligence or human superiority, we're just in the end biological creatures who will consciously or unconsciously desire a mate which is strong and physically attractive. But having said that, being gay renders that notion obsolete because technically we don't mate.

However that doesn't mean that I am all for being shallow. Personally I have settled for a lot less than my version of ideal. For what it is worth, I am not someone with looks that could launch a thousand ships anyway so I am not about to go about commenting who is good looking and who is ugly like the comical bunch in Hotshots (refer to Axcest) or Hotbods (refer to Trevvy) or declare I deserve someone who is physically attractive. And strangely, I had a dream once where Jacky Cheung was interested in pursuing me and I was pretty enamoured by the notion and by my standards, he is barely half of where the guy above is ranked. Perhaps it was how he was so charmingly likable when I chanced to have met him in person once. So I guess besides a pretty face, personality and chemistry accounts for a major part of acceptance.

When it comes to dating, I think I'm proud to say that I have dated a pretty wide variation of people of different age groups and physical appearances - younger and older, skinny and... the not so skinny. I have even dated a Malay guy once whom today I still have fond memories of (which is more than what I can say for most of my exes and past dates), so I can't be said to be racially discriminative either when it comes to preferences. Unfortunately I am not too proud by the numbers which rather paints a pathetic picture of the state of my love life, but that aside...

No, I guess I can't really describe my "type" because physical appearances hardly paint a whole picture of what a person is, though reluctantly I would agree that good looks certainly bypass a lot of my barriers. Having said that, a handsome guy would not necessarily find an easy path into my heart either. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) I never have to worry about that because I am never lucky enough to warrant such attention.

It is a kind of paradox since I usually never have good impression of good looking people in the sense I always find such types fickle, arrogant and well... above me. If there is one thing I find in common with these types are how they know of their physical attractiveness and are prone to psychological games to get more attention. The more appearance challenged are not exactly guiltless either and I have seen my fair share of such who feels, no BELIEVE, they deserve to be paired off with an Adonis (read: the comical bunch of commentators at Hotbods and Hotshots). Maybe it's the whole Cinderella complex, or something more associated with the ego or just plain denial.

We are all brought up to believe we deserve the best in life but reality would have it that only a handful will ever get to live their dreams. If anyone have seen that Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet movie, The Holiday, would have heard of how there are two sorts or role in life, the lead and the best friend. Like it or not, a majority of us would be spending a lifetime playing the best friend, including yours truly. But hey... one can always dream.