Traveling, Oh Boy I'm Traveling

First lesson of breaking up: Look forward and forget about the past.

Well I'm about to embark on a journey that will last me 3 weeks in the UK so I'm not going to look forward. Instead I will dwell about the things that I have left behind (aka my favourite pillow). Of course I will miss my friends dearly, since there's absolutely nothing to do there. I plan to bring a couple of books to read during my stay in London. Having no friends there, since they all are back here in Malaysia, I will pre-occupy myself in old re-runs of the Crystal Maze and lots of games that I've downloaded onto my new Nintendo DS Lite.

So dear guests and avid readers, if you haven't received a heart or a mail from me, it doesn't mean I'm dead. I'm probably sitting in my Aunt's place entertaining myself or lying in the gutter somewhere in London passed out drunk.

See you guys next year. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you guys!

(Just hear those sleigh bells ring-a-ling....)

Single Mingle

When you're living in a city like Kuala Lumpur, there's a million and one things you could do. Take a midnight stroll around the notorious park known for it's cruisy gay men, grab a drink at the mamak (the local 24-hour coffee shop) with your new found sauna friend or hit the bars hoping to meet the man of your dreams, or someone to bang the headboards with. Tonight, I decided to join my friend in this quaint little bar called the Attic. It was the Singles Night and the event was called Meet, Mingle and Match.

A bar full of heterosexual men and women, what could a gay boy like me want more?

So I sat and analyzed the whole scene of people mingling and getting to know each other over huge glasses filled with minimal amount of red wine. They were happy; chit chatting about their favourite past times, making witty remarks about politics, occasionally cracking jokes about themselves. Then it dawned upon me, most of the men and some of the women had the same look in their eyes. Hoping they would meet someone who they could get along with and possibly have a relationship with. I see women taking small sips from their wine glasses and eyeing the man they were speaking to up and down, possibly calculating their percentage of wanting to know them even further.

The men on the other hand were all swarming to this C-cup woman (who coincidentally goes to my gym). Her perky breasts matched her perky attitude and had men drooling and hoping they could get a chance to bring her home.

These people had hope, whether or not it's finding a relationship or wanting to get laid they all looked similar. After meeting someone new, I always think about whether or not I could have a decent relationship with them, probably picture myself in Sedan with him in the passenger seat and sending our kids to school or probably just be friends and chat over coffee. I always hoped that the person I met is the right person I should be with.

Hope.

Is it the new designer drug that we are currently hooked on, or is it a life support system which we cannot live without?

At least I know for sure, at the end of the day I'm still hoping to meet someone I can carve a life with.

I Can Be Who's Father Figure?

Malaysia. A city that never sleeps, or probably it does, I wouldn't know being the only few awake at this ungodly hour. I came across this profile on Fridae which inspired me to write. I suppose what was interesting in this man's profile was that he wrote, and I quote: " I tend to like guys who are a bit on the nerdy side...It might be partially due to the fact that my father is a lot like that."

This got me thinking, are we attracted to men who have qualities like our fathers? Or maybe we've been smothered by mothers that we no longer have the ability to love any other woman apart from the one who nursed us since young. This reminds me of the Freudian concept of the Oedipal complex where (in summary) we men search for partners that resemble our mothers. But as gay men, are we looking for partners that have our father-like qualities? In other words, have we transitioned from Oedipus to the Electra complex?

Going through the list of men that I'm attracted to or have dated, I can't say that any of them resembled my father. But digging deeper into my personal life, I have to ask myself, am I searching for the father figure that I never had?

Don't get me wrong, my dad is great. He's funny, quirky and rather annoying, but there are no bounds when it comes to discipline from him. This probably had some effect on me; analyzing my past relationships, I preferred guys who had some sort of control over me. Masochistic as it sounds, I think I went for guys who are rather repressive and dominant.

So, is it a question of are we attracted to men who are like our fathers? Or do we want our partner to represent what we picture as a "father figure"?

Sweet Stuff

When you're a single gay man in what seems to be a place of infinite backstabbing and bitching, one would consider staying home a luxury. So stayed home during the weekend I did, except sneaking out last night just to grab a drink at the local coffee shop.

I met a friend for a quick drink last night and we got to talking about sugar daddies and their boy toys. It was interesting to see how this happens in another person's shoes, I had a suspicion that sugar daddies think of their relationship as a business transaction; they give their boy toys money in exchange for sex. But doesn't one get lonely in the affection department? If a man is with you just because you're loaded with cash, doesn't that leave no room for affection and emotions?

On the other hand you have your boy toys and money boys, most of them who are supposedly in their teens to late 20s, who see this relationship as an exchange of power; he gives you good sex, so therefore he gets money in return. With that power, they are able to buy whatever they want; may it be clothes, a car, maybe even a apartment overlooking the KL city. So when a relationship turns into exchanging sex for money, it's hard to draw the line between a boyfriend and a man who turns tricks at the street corner. When does it turn from being a professional boyfriend to just being plain professional?

I used to date a guy who apparently wanted a relationship with me but things turned sour when he started to acknowledge his value at the meat market. Ruining friendships and relationships, he desperately tries to land a man who is capable of tending to his materialistic needs. Just from analyzing his pattern of guys, I wondered whether he wanted me for my some-what okay looks and great personality or whether he was just out to get a load of the high road. I come from an average middle-class family which doesn't give me much to become a sugar daddy, so I would like to think that he was barking up the wrong tree if he was actually attracted to me because I could afford his lifestyle. I can't even afford my own lifestyle of endless amounts of alcohol and cigarettes.

If the relationship of the future is based on how much money one makes, does that mean there is a price on Love?

Twilight ActionGirl

The night at TAG was definitely one of the best nights of my life. As you can see from the pictures below, I had fun, they had fun, we all had fun.


I have no idea what I was looking at, probably captivated by the lights or something.


Drinking is our favourite game.


An Indian song came on, it was time to put the moves back on, Hindi Style.


Psychedelic!


I think that jug of Margarita was permanently glued onto my hand.


Drunken escapades lead to bad photos.


Very bad photos.


Haha, I just popped my head out of no where.


Twilight ActionGuy and Twilight ActionGirl.


I swear I wasn't holding the camera.


Pretty decent, this was when we first arrived.


Don't look back in anger, don't look back in anger...I heard you say.

The last song of the night by Oasis. I'm going to miss my comm buddies.

Angry Raging Hormones

Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he'll walk a thousand miles.

Yes I do realize that phrase doesn't make sense, which is pretty much what's happening in my life right now. I'm done with exams and I've been bumming around and trying to motivate myself and keep interest in hitting the gym. I see some results, and I now understand why gay men flaunt their bodies, cause they work hard for it. I've been through endless hours just doing weights and RPM and hip hop classes, and you would think that the amount of exercise I do increases my endorphin levels but I feel more angrier than ever. I have a feeling my testosterone level is increasing, therefore I'm feeling more energetic. In other words, I think I'm becoming more butch.

It all pays off. Just yesterday after my routine workout, I stepped into the steamroom to relax and feel the heat when a guy came in and sat next to me. He introduced himself and we got to talking about our backgrounds and traveling. Time passes by when you're having fun talking to the other party. I don't think he's gay but I wouldn't mind making another friend.

After the gym, I went back got changed and it was time to party with my uni-mates. It was sad mostly because most of them are graduating, and some of them are leaving the country to pursue their work but there were no time for tears, only time for intoxicating ourselves with shots of Whiskey and Vodka and endless jugs of Long Island Iced Teas. Nothing goes better with alcohol than good music courtesy of Twilight ActionGirl.

To make things even more surprising for me, a friend's friend (whom I know) sat next to me and started caressing my leg. As the evening progressed, he gave me a soft and gentle peck on the cheek. I remembered it and I also remembered being a jerk and asking him "Are you trying to hit on me?". Damn man, as I sit here and reminisce about the kiss last night, I am pissed off at myself for not grabbing him....or even jumping on him. I can still feel his lips on my cheek, and his tongue. I think he frenched my cheek.

Me being...well me, I over-evaluate situations and till this moment I'm wondering how a relationship with this guy would go. He captivated me with just one look and he stole my heart with just one kiss. How I wish I could have another evening alone with him.

Hybrid of Emotions

A mixed up boy feeling lost in a complex world. That's who I am.

I completed my examination an hour ago and I have another one to prepare for next week. Unfortunately I had taken a sip from the ambrosia of happiness and it has switched me from Studying to Holiday Mode. Side effects? Confusion and emo.

Tonight is my friend's birthday, which I won't be attending because of personal reasons. Emo is the three letter word I'm feeling at the moment, probably because I want to attend this party but I don't want to face my ex alone. I am currently dating someone, but I don't want to go through the process of making each other jealous. I would like to think that I'm past that. I rather not go than to create unnecessary scenes.

Then the thought of friends have come to my attention. I have many acquaintances but I don't exactly have friends whom I can speak to about what matters in my life. All I have is this blog, 200 posts of thoughts and emotions that I can't exactly explain in person due to the wall I set up around myself. Does that explain why I am all alone? Even within my prison walls I have missing bricks in which I stick my hand out for someone to grab hold on to, but to no avail.

I give and I give and I give. But it seems like no one has ever bothered giving it back. Being taken advantage of should be my forte, after all I can't bear seeing who I deem as friends suffer.

I went through a process in my life; putting myself first. I don't think I have ever completed it. I seem to be running in circles, meeting the same people over and over again. People who use other people, people who have bad intentions and hidden agendas, people who I don't think deserve friends.

Is it me? Am I doing something wrong? How is it that I attract so many people like these? I really don't understand. I really don't.

Wild Smile

My love's like a turning wheel, it is spinning, spinning around.

It's 4AM in the morning and I'm still awake. Unfortunately my biological clock is not ticking correctly and seem to think that wee hours in the morning is time for my body to shut down * hears the Windows Shut Down sound clip*.

I had to update tonight since some people have been complaining about having nothing to read or no new sleeping material. Well screw that, do what normal people do and pop in several Stilnox or Nytol. Guaranteed to knock you out for several days or weeks depending on your dosage.

I have been busy these past few days/weeks. Exams are around the corner and I have not prepared anything for it. Plus I still have an assignment due and I haven't exactly finished it yet. So what's new you ask? Well I certainly could answer that.

I just finished watching the 4th installment of the Harry Potter series. What a waste of 2 hours. I went to the toilet to have 2 cigarettes during the screening of the movie; and by screening, I meant getting a pirated copy of the movie and watching it on my 36" Samsung LCD Monitor. Yay for technology and piracy!

I have a couple more movies to watch but I decided to put them off and wait until I finished my exams so I'm able to concentrate 100% on my studying.

...
.......
............

Who the hell am I kidding? I'm going to watch Knocked Up before I head to bed.

To You, With Love

My epitome of love (you know who you are):
If I had one wish, I would wish for you to be in my arms right now.
I want to be the shoulder that you lie your head on.
I want to be the happiness that I see in your smile.
I want to taste those soft lips, those lips that make my toes curl in ecstasy.
I want to take a whiff of your scent, the enticing scent right below your ear lobe.
I want to dream a thousand dreams right beside you.
I want to plan my whole life with you and you only.
I want to kiss your forehead every morning and tell you how much I love you.
I want to wake up in the middle of the night and find you sleeping right next to me.

If only I could, I would.

Ethan

Roads

The night peels the heart like an onion, what remains after it is removed of it's defenses?

I had to do an interpretation of my theme in my Writing workshop today. I decided to do a serious short instead of acting it out or singing, etc.

So I laid out several magazine advertisements which are usually the epitome of gender construction (my theme) and one of my mother's old clothing and one of my old t-shirts on the table. I also had a pair of scissors, a ruby red lipstick and nail polish. I blindfolded myself to represent society's ignorance to it's gender construction. I sat like a marionette and waited for my cue to start (which is the music that was played during the whole act).


That was when I picked up the lipstick and started to draw on the magazine adverts. This symbolizes the effect of make-up. I dropped the lipstick and then picked up the nail polish and poured it all over the adverts, destroying it. Yet it is not enough, so I tore the adverts and tossed it on to the ground. The pieces are still there though, signifying however hard we try to break free of these stereotypes, it will still remain.


Then I picked up the pair of scissors and started to cut through the clothes. It was intense, since I was blindfolded and I didn't know what I was cutting. Crazy as it sounds, my writing class was dead silent during my whole act. I found out later it wasn't because they enjoyed it, they paid close attention because they were afraid I might cut my finger off or something. I timed it well and I think I did good. There were some who didn't bother putting in effort and read it out like the Vagina monologue. But all in all we had quite a bit of fun, some were entertaining whilst others were intense. See, this is why I take Writing, the most interesting people are always in my class.

I'm Not Dead

The weekend sure did pass by like a speeding train. I went to see a percussions production called 10: Entwined Calling. Fantastic production, the whole set up was beautiful and the performance was breath-taking. I especially liked the 4th performance, titled " Water... Engulf Me", which signified the importance of water; we need it to survive and yet with too much it can harm us. Water gives life, yet it can taketh away. A beautifully intricate performance it was. The haunting voice of Yudi gave me shivers when she started singing, it was melodious and evocative. It was well done and Bernard Goh directed it flawlessly.


After the concert, a few friends and I went to check out the " Eye of Malaysia" (i.e. the copied version of the London Eye). I'm terrified of heights so I wanted to sit out the ride and luckily for me, by the time we got there they stopped allowing passengers in. So we joined the locals and started taking photos of the Ferris Wheel and watched the pretty colours change.


It's pretty at night, and pretty scary at the top.

After that, we went to our hangout area where I found the most oddest thing growing out of the ground. A mushroom.


There it was, in the middle of no where, growing. I swear it is the strangest thing I've ever seen. White and puffy. I found another one a meter away from it but someone had ripped it out of the ground and chucked it aside. Sigh, mushroom, enduring the harsh weather of Malaysia and yet it's able to nourish itself and blossom into a puffy white blob.

How I wish I was thee. Oh wait...I am the mushroom!

6 Days Later

Today is where the bombardment of questions begin.

I felt good enough to head into classes today. I finally finished my anti-bis and I just found out I don't need to finish my painkiller medication, which bummed me out cause it gave me a killer buzz. I was not however looking forward to the barrage of questions from my classmates asking me if I'm alright or if I'm well since my face is deathly pale/green. There's a fine line between being concerned and being nosy, and MOST of these people were just plain nosy. As expected, I had to answer more than 8 times what surgery I went for and why. Even with a sarcastic tone in my voice saying that I had to sever my sympathy nerves cause I wanted to be a heartless bitch who didn't want to answer stupid questions anymore didn't stop them from wanting to know more about the surgery itself. Hell hath no fury as a mob of nosy people.

An interesting event that happened today that is worth noting was meeting J again. As the elevator doors opened, I looked out to see him standing there. Like a school boy with no where else to go except into my arms (I wish), he stood there with a grin on his face. Obviously the grin wasn't for me, it was for his girlfriend who was standing behind me. The whole bunch of Commies (short for Communication Students) from my class came out of the elevator and started chit chatting about some public apology letter from a fellow student to another. Whilst this was going on, I managed to steal a couple of glances at him. It was a hot day and he was sweating profusely. I wanted to rip off his shirt to reveal his cub-like body and *censored*.

Gathering up the courage to speak to him, I took a deep breath only to look at him for a mere couple of seconds. I could feel his gaze shift towards me and I looked away, exhaling. If there's an award for the biggest Jack Ass in the world, please nominate me. I should have just spoken to him! He probably thinks of me as a retard.

Although it's hard to believe for many, I am shy. PAINFULLY shy. Especially to the guys I really like and imagine going out on dates with. It's a disorder, just like how I don't look at people when I walk into a gay-infested area cause I feel like there are eyes on me and I suddenly am very aware of myself. I get nervous basically and very self-conscious.

I am still beating myself up over the fact that I walked away without even uttering a single word to him. Garr!

Music has charms to soothe a savage beast. Where the heck is my music now?

Back With A Vengence

The critical stage is over, I can finally breathe almost normally without feeling the tremendous amount of pressure on my heart.

What surgery did I go for? I'm so sick and tired of answering this question, which is basically why I kept this in the dark, apart from a few of my close friends. I had to go for a Spine-Thorascopic Cervical Sympathectomy to cut the sympathetic nerves. In other words, it's to cure cold and clammy hands (i.e. sweaty palms).

Going into this surgery is quite mind boggling and it's not the process of the whole thing, it's the waiting that is a killer. I freaked myself out before the whole thing, I had to wear nothing but the surgical gown and my wobbly bits were dangling for everyone to see. They inserted a transparent like drip into my right hand and injected the anesthesia into the drip which knocked me unconscious for about a couple of hours. They made two small incisions on each side of my body, right underneath the armpit where the doctor had to find the sympathetic nerves and sliced it right off. Waking up is the fun part, I remembered being delirious and making jokes to the nurses that only I understood (something along the lines of getting sleeping pills). There was a huge pressure on my heart and it was difficult to breathe. I couldn't even walk and had to be wheeled out by the hospital's concierge.

It was hell when I got back home. I had to walk up a flight of stairs to my bedroom, after each step I had to stop to release some of the pressure in my heart. Under heavy painkillers and anti-bis, I slept my way through the weekend, waking up through intervals to take my meals and meds.

And now I'm feeling better. Not yet 100% since I am not able to operate heavy machinery for a week or lift anything, or even hold a pen for a couple of days. Weird thing is, I'm able to type and move my mouse but in an upright position so my arms don't move around so much. I'm getting my stitches out on Saturday. Woo hoo! I'll be 100% then!

Under The Knife

I have to go for surgery in a couple of hours. I'm deathly afraid of hospitals. Especially after what T told me about going under general anesthesia and then feeling the knife slicing her ear open, feeling the pain and agony and not being able to do anything about it.

It's scary...

I'm scared...

Monash Ball - The Night of Noir

Here is the long awaited pictures from my Monash Ball. There are some more to come but I haven't gotten it from my friends yet. Enjoy! Pictures can be clicked to be enlarged, just like the thing in between my legs.
The 2 homme fatales and the notorious femme fatale.


One pimp daddy and 5...almost lovely ladies.


Feeling nervous on going up to perform.


Table 12 peeps.
I like to appear out of nowhere once in a while.


We've got noir.


Trying to act cute. Unsuccessfully.


It's been a good 3 years.


Me and Kathia. We make a good team.


Performing Somewhere Over The Rainbow and screwing it up.

Stay tuned...there's more to come.

Dream A Little Dream

Have you ever had bad dreams about someone and then wake up and get angry at them for no legitimate reason? Has your dreams affected your mood in any way after waking up? If it has, you're probably a hypo-maniac like me.

Waking up this morning/afternoon, I felt so depressed. I had a dream about M and our bedroom antics. He asked me what lube I wanted to use and brought out three small vials with three different "flavours". I told him that I wasn't in the mood and he threw a hissy fit and then left. Why did I say no? Because somehow I felt like he was fucking around, that's how he got the lube in the first place.

Think that I'm crazy or think that I have lost a few marbles. I know I need to get over this. I just don't know how to. It's been 3 years of back and forth and it's takes on a serious emotion toll on me. I honestly want it to stop. I am willing it to stop. But even on an unconscious level I'm still yearning for him in some way. When does it end?

There Once Was A Boy Named Ethan

There's always a moment in time when one faces the moral dilemma within him/herself. This is my moment.

I've known of J's existence for about a couple of months and never thought much about him until the night of the Monash Ball. He looked good enough to be spread on a cracker and eaten. There's something about guys in tuxes or suits which give of this jene sai pas aura and attracts me to them like moths to a flame. I was about to leave the ball to change and head to the crazy after-party when I decided to stop over at J's table and started dancing with all of my classmates for a couple of minutes. Then surprisingly, he came over, grabbed my hand and started to dirty dance with me, noir-style. There I was, with some guy I've never spoken to in my life dancing and staring into each other's eyes with intensity that probably could light up a small town. I had to leave soon after that, embarrassed that everyone were snapping photos and the fact that he is one of my female classmate's BOYFRIEND. Yes regulars and irregulars to my blog, this guy is apparently STRAIGHT . Which is weird because I've caught him staring a couple of times, maybe because I look odd? Well, whatever it is, I shouldn't do anything...except add him on my FaceBook and turn into a potential stalker and dream about him from time to time. Knowing that his girlfriend is leaving for Australia in the following months to come also gives me an advantage as well. Should I do it? Should I slip a Spanish Fly into his drink and rape his sorry ass and turn him into a blubbering child the morning after?

Speaking of wanting to rape men, I finally got to meet the guy I've been eye-raping at the gym quite a while back last night. He had been MIA for the past couple of months (so was I) and it was pure luck when he walked into the bar I used to work at and was seated right next to me. I love me a good thick tree trunk shaped pair of legs and hell he's got it, as well as a nice piece of ass attached to it. I didn't get to speak much to him last night, hopefully I would get to see him a lot more in the future. Damn, I so want to tap that.

Monash Ball was a fantastic night, pictures will be uploaded soon. T, S and I had to perform two songs for the night and we screwed up the first song big time. Lyrics were forgotten, tune was totally off, key was off as well, the microphones weren't loud enough, it was pure hell going through that 2 and a half minute song which was cut into a minute song. We redeemed ourselves through Come What May, where we shocked the crowd with our unusual booming voices and our synchronization and harmonization. We got the validating applause that we needed and it felt awesome. All in all, it was seriously a night to remember.

Note to readers: No men were harmed/raped during the reminiscing of the writer's blog

The Moment

This moment
I will reminisce
The forgotten scenery
It all adds up to become me

This moment
Time has become my luggage
Going past sadness and happiness
You're side by side with me
Because of you I can see myself
In the unpredictable future

Next moment
Where will I fly?
My wings are slowly tiring
But because of you
I will be strong

This is just a long journey
This isn't an eternal stop
Saying goodbye is a reminder of our magnificent memories

You
Have to take care of yourself
And never forget those beautiful scars

Don't worry
Just leave me
I will remember this moment
There will still be amazing moments
After the rain
There will be a fantastic rainbow
We will find our freedom at the end

(Lyrics Translated From The Moment, By Stephanie Sun)

One Night Only

Being a failure in Malaysian Idol has smushed my dreams of becoming a singer, but my passion for singing still remains deep inside. Although I couldn't get through to the final rounds for Malaysian Idol, I thought to myself, at least I could still do what I love to do freely and there's always other competitions.

Fate has led me into meeting a friend of mine. We both discovered we had a strong passion for song and music and decided to try out auditioning for our annual university ball. With sheer skill and luck, we managed to breeze through the audition and became one of the main talents for the night of the ball.

The clock is ticking and the event moves closer day by day (the ball is 7 days from now). T and I are feeling the pressure. To stage the 2 songs that we are going to sing that night will be a major migraine for both of us, basically since we haven't exactly finalized the choices yet.

My friends ask me how I'm able to go through it with such confidence despite my trembling partner who's hand I had to hold through the entire time we auditioned and the performances we staged after that. All I can say is, I don't know. I honestly don't know where the courage comes from. But I'm glad to have that as a part of my personality.

Well what lies ahead is either applause or embarrassing moments. I suppose this event is just one night only so, no stress. I'm going to go out there and have fun!

Bad Mojo

Trying to evaluate myself in these past few weeks has made me realize that I'm surrounded by bad karma, probably in my last life? Or maybe the things that I've said that have actually hurt people. Right now, the anger has subsided for my ex. The night I cried myself to sleep was the last night I swore to the higher beings above me that I will never shed another tear for him.

Despite me slapping him twice, it did hurt me more. Like jabbing a hot knife into my heart, I drowned my sorrow in a bottle of cheap wine and Stephanie Sun's songs. I needed a form of release, and knowing that these are the tools to bring forth hot lava tears to roll down my face I went through it only to wake up the next day and face my entire University with puffy red eyes and no boyfriend to call, hug, kiss or say I love you anymore.

To you who is reading this, I am truly sorry for using my hand across your face. I guess our relationship can't ever be salvaged. I wish you the best of luck and hope both of us move on and find whatever we want in life.

Trying to keep myself busy, I've picked up gymming again as well as revisiting old friends whom I haven't seen in a while. I've been trying to cleanse my aura as well and I believe this is bad karma that enveloped me so by doing good deeds, I do hope to rid of this evil presence. So I signed up for 2 day voluntary work at Freedom Film Fest 2007 held at Central Market this weekend, to help organize the event. It was supposed to be a 3 day job but I also volunteered to work in a home for disabled children on Sunday so I wouldn't be able to make it on the last day.

Do wish me luck on getting rid of bad karma. Shoo~!

Experimental Writing

Little doll
Who carries the name of the most beautiful flower
Could you please bring me something from your parents' tower?

Of course dear Shadow
What is it you humbly ask to endow?

Walk back to your castle dear child
And make it your family's tomb
For all I really yearn
Lies within your mother's womb

I once heard of a man who will become like no other
Could you please bring me your still unborn brother?

The shadow bowed in gratitude, completing her task
Would you like anything in return, might I ask?

Please I hope you won't find me wrong
I would like to play, laugh and dance all night long
But no matter what I want
I would find a friend the most relevant

I’m sorry dear little flower
Friends I can not give
It is sadly beyond my power

Then I would like my brother back
For this deal of ours
Just turned awfully sour
What good are you, if you make me weep?
Please have my brother returned by the gates of my keep

Neither your brother I can give you
What you gave is given
I merely strive for a way to make it even
Seeing my offer is merely out of kindness
This child will never know the embrace of your fortress

Then I wish for a way to have you undone
Kind shadow
I want you mauled and buried
By the darkest and most blighted meadow

Fair enough little flower
Without feelings of either vain or rue
I will grant your one wish 'come true

Without honour
Without grace
You will travel to the darkest place
Untouched by the vilest of gloom
Your skin will always run paler than our brightest moon

Travel the road of which I pointed
And be forever gone
For sure one day
You will have me undone

Thank you kindly,
Shadow of whom I don't know

K.O. Ethan Wins.

When fighting with your partner/spouse, it's great to have in mind that there isn't a right or a wrong person. As long as both of the parties agree that they want to be with each other, nothing else really matters and small little arguments tend to vanish into thin air.

But when things get personal, it's harder to see why you're together with your partner. Everything gets blurred, the haziness sets in, you're lost and exasperation is your only best friend.

Tonight, a similar event occurred that had taken place in my relationship way back when and it was frustrating to see the same thing happen again. To tell this story, I have to start from the beginning, which took place at Red last night...

I had a presentation today with a couple of classmates, a critical approach/psychoanalysis of the movie Mildred Pierce which happens to be one of the best Film Noirs I have seen up to date. There were 4 of us, 3 questions to tackle and during the filming of the movie, 2 were absent, their names were Claudia and Aaron. Aaron Lee is a notorious slacker, who leaches off people's assignments and is a human parasite to those around him. At least I had Cheryl with me and she understood the pain and frustration of trying to organize a meeting between four of us.

So on the phone yesterday night (since I had all of their numbers, I had to phone them), I rang Cheryl and checked up on what she was doing, called Claudia and asked her what she was going to do and when Aaron picked up the phone, I explained to him what he should do. All of us were on track...or so it seems.

I skipped my Globalization lecture today so we could spend some time to work on Mildred Pierce only to have Claudia come an hour late and Aaron show up half an hour before our presentation started. Not only that, all of us were in awe that he spent the whole night doing nothing except print the synopsis of Mildred Pierce from Wikipedia (the most unreliable source in History). We were pissed, not only did he not show up for the screening, he practically did 5 minutes of work and called it a day.

So our presentation came, we helped him out and we all did a fairly excellent job. But Aaron on the other hand left the class and looked upset. I didn't like the way our group treated him and it was clear to me that he was desperately trying to reach out to someone during our talk. So when I left, I sent him a message saying not to feel upset over this and that we still did a great job. He replied me with an apologetic note.

I was having a stressful day. So time to relax, I had dinner with my significant other and we were having a good time until I started to tell him this story. Keep in mind that he was there when I was making the calls to the members of my group. That's when he interrupted me before I could finish my 3rd sentence and told me that I was wrong. I am the one to blame. Because it looks bad that all of us knew what we were doing and that he didn't. Also I should have taken the leadership role. My mates were also to blame as well for Aaron's downfall cause they didn't check up on his work.

I'm sorry, when did I turn into a babysitter? We allocated questions to each other and there wasn't even meant to be a leader but I made the initiative to call them up and check up on them. I made the effort to set up a meeting with all of us and is it MY FAULT that they're late and irresponsible? My role in life isn't similar in any way to Mildred Pierce.

This is where things got personal. He started to lecture me on how I should be during group work despite not even listening to me or even knowing how Aaron Lee works. He immediately sided the slacker instead of me. Fine. You just poked the bear. Hell shall rain upon thee who pokes the bear.

I gave him the silent treatment. He got pissed off that I wouldn't listen to him. Why the hell should I listen to someone who doesn't even bother to let me finish my story and jumps to conclusions?

He sent me home. I slammed his car door. I got really angry at him because he knows that I hate people who don't let me finish and lectures me in an accusing manner. I SMSed my friend T, to tell her that he won't be coming for her party this weekend. Unfortunately HE replied me and said if I didn't want him to go I should tell him directly and that he was being too ambitious by lecturing me (I'm still wondering what that meant). I found out that I had sent the message to the wrong person. One thing lead to another and it was left with me saying that until he learns how to listen to me before spilling his crap all over me, I don't want to hear his voice, speak to him, see him, etc.
And finally I got a message saying, "In other words, does that mean break up?"

Where the fuck did I mention break up? Someone please explain to me.

Night Of Horror

You know a night of wine and song has gone wrong when you're about to leave and some people starts to raise their voice and push each other.

This is what happened.

Standing there, frustrated about the fact that my boyfriend has the hots for another guy, I was talking to my friend about it when all of a sudden I turned around to see that my friends were pushing each other. I wouldn't exactly call them my friends, more like acquaintances that I got to know over the couple of weeks. It was mere seconds when Adrian handed me his glasses and threw his cigarettes on the ground and started shouting at John. There were about 10 of us there and 3 of them had rage in their eyes and started to shout at each other.

Trying to stop the fight with someone's glasses in my hand, I held a shouting Adrian back only to realize that it was David who got offended by John and he was trying desperately to land a punch on him. So a few of us held both of them back while the others told John to leave because he was being rude and obnoxious and there I was, feeling sorry for John because I know him and despite him being him, he had no one on his side. All of them were colleagues and John was basically the odd one out cause he didn't hang out with any of us.

So there we were, in front of a residential area and outside a pub called Red where there were 2 angry people screaming at one person and I couldn't do anything. When rage gets into a drunk's mind, all he could think about is how am I going to kick his ass. Straight men have egos and it seemed that David had a lot since he was the the only one raising his voice after the other two got settled. I didn't know what was going on, but I did manage to get something along the lines of not shaking each other's hand. Seriously, straight men. Drunk straight men. Drunk angry straight men. Why not just take your penises out and compare it and get it over with?

I had to leave. There was basically too much drama going on and I was pushed around by people who are trying to hit each other.

Why, oh why, do I always have to end up being the marionette?

Writin.g.

Yours is the voice
That keeps me awake
My head explodes
And my body aches


Experimental Writing is a tough and challenging subject which I chose to go through. Completely surrounded by fellow writers, I feel immensely intimidated that most of them are able to transcend from writing fiction into writing prose poems, non-literary satires, etc.

So here I am, this guy who apparently thinks he's able to write and is pretty much good at it and this whole notion of being good in writing shatters before him and he's having trouble coping with class. Not only that, he hasn't been able to grasp the formats and techniques 100% yet. Somehow or rather I hear my enemies and my nemesissies snickering from miles away. Don't get me wrong, the protagonist I'm speaking about is actually me.


To top it off, I have to go through an array of assessments to pass this subject and if one fails any of it, they have to fork out another subject's worth of fees to take it all over again.

The pressure is on and I'm feeling the sweat. Someone please hand me a towel, s'il vous plaît?

If I Could Sleep Forever

Sorry guys, I haven't exactly updated my blog in a while. Been happy and content with my life so there's not exactly much to complain about.

Been trying to get my gym schedule back but I've been feeling really lazy, especially after the one hour class of RPM (a.k.a. Spin Class) which really took it out of me. Pure cardio for about 2 1/2 hours can really take it out of a guy. I had to walk out half an hour through hip hop class just to catch my breath. And that night itself, I slept like a baby.

Well not entirely like a baby, I usually have sleepless nights where I wake up several times during the night for no apparent reason. I'm blaming it on the fact that my mind doesn't ever sleep. I have dreams almost everyday, most of which I only remember the moment when I'm about to head off to the land of subconsciousness.

The worst is when I get haunted by my little imperfections and the fact that I make a fool of myself during the span of which is called my life. I usually have to yelp it out so I can get it out of my system, something weird which I do moments before my body shuts down. I don't think anyone has that weird little habit, I have asked around and no one I know seems to have it. So maybe I am a little nuts, a few marbles short, some loose screws in my head.

I guess I am a little insane. Who isn't in this day and age?

Mister Rude

Honestly, there are too many knuckleheads in Fridae. Why have I come to this conclusion? Well mostly because idiots (names omitted) have been adding me on MSN and bloody hell have no decency to even provide me with a proper profile. I understand if some people are "discreet" but do understand this, I am not. I am openly gay to anyone who cares and gives a damn. So please don't expect me to be nice when firstly you were rude and impolite. So hear me when I say this; Don't bother getting to know me when all you've got to offer is just complete utter stupidity.

Yes, as you can read from this post, it's the time of the month again. Working out in the gym hasn't exactly created endorphins for me, now I just get easily irritated and do obnoxiously rash actions that would have landed me in trouble if I wasn't so hugesque.

So for heaven's sake, for my sake and for your safety, please don't make me angry (insert forced smile here).

Writer's Block

As an aspiring writer (as of 1st March 2007), I'm experiencing a blockage in my creative side of the brain. I've recently started writing a narrative on the genre of horror and it used to be my forte, but I seem to have lost the gist for it.

True, I do dish out ChickLits but I think I do better in creating a frightening and menacing environment for the readers. I can't seem to think of how the plot would flow from where I stopped, and I just got off the phone where I was giving out ideas about a Women's Rights campaign. I guess that doesn't mean that there's an obstruction in creativity.

Maybe it's wordplay then. I seem to get stuck in my limited edition of vocabulary skills which isn't exactly great in my situation at the moment, since I'm starting my new semester and I'm taking up another Writing class (cause I thoroughly enjoyed the criticisms, the late nights, the stress) and I need my brain to be working properly at 150% through-out the whole semester.

I am looking forward to my new semester, at least I hope it could bring forth a new collection of ideas.

Hopefully.

In Every Rainbow There's A Silent Storm

Anticipating and waiting are two killer combos. Especially when exam results are being posted from 5-8 (GMT +10:00) and everyone's dying to see whether they've gotten a High Distinction for their subjects. One can practically hear the nail biting from miles away.

For me, I didn't want to see a Failure next to any of the subjects I took last semester. Much to my delight, not only did I manage to pass the worst ever subject I've ever come across, I manage to get a Distinction for my Writing class. Ecstatic, I jumped up and down, fell off my chair and started calling my friends to celebrate the fact that: I didn't fail any of my subjects.

So where to celebrate such an occasion? Why, Tony Romas of course! Firstly cause I've never been there and I heard the beef ribs there were to die for and it's near. So there I was, masticating on a piece of meat when I received an unexpected call from a friend Debs. Debbie was part of my study group for the nastiest subject called Cultural & Communications Policy and she basically brought me up to date on all the terminology and jargons, the Malaysian policies, etc. She taught me a lot. So what did 'lil miss Debbie want all the way from Melbourne? To gloat? Unfortunately her voice was rather upset and she asked me what I got for CCP. Telling her I managed to get a borderline pass, she broke down into tears and was apparently shocked that I managed to pass. Honestly, insults below the belt from a girl who's highly upset is unacceptable but I brushed it off aside.

She apparently flunked her subject and asked me what should she do, expecting me to be the King of all Failures and that of all people, I would know what to do. Well that was an unfortunate event. But made me feel better since I know I manage to do a much better job than she did.

So to top off the evening, I came home to 2 fully downloaded albums which I'm currently listening to and am absolutely heads over heels over.

Readers, here's a must-listen-to album that you guys have got to get your hands on.


Dolores O'Riordon - Are You Listening
(Only for Rock fans and people who loved The Cranberries & Dolores' haunting voice)
Tracks to look out for: Ordinary Day, Angel Fire, When We Were Young, Apple of My Eye.

&


Feist - The Reminder
(Those who love dinner music with a glass of wine, folk music, women with fantastic vocals)
This album is seriously fantastic. The whole CD comprises of marvelous folk music that will go great with a couple of drinks with friends, in your car when you're driving and it's definitely good for Morning music.
Favourite Tracks: Past In Present, So Sorry, The Water, My Moon My Man, I Feel It All, etc etc.

Seriously folks, I ain't getting any money from them so this isn't considered advertising (well it can be considered UNPAID advertising).

I just got a call from Eric telling me he's got free tickets to LQ's Sports Party event or something along the lines of that. Of course I gotta go, it'll be rude if I don't turn up right?

It's been an awesome day. Nothing can kill this buzz.

A Dedication To Robert Yeoh

Even though I do not know you
Still a part of me is saddened by your passing
Thank you for all the work that you've done
A dream for us, you've made into reality

A place in heaven, for you is secured
You've done a great deal for the LGBT community
My condolences for your family and friends
Although your body is not in this world
You will still live on
In our hearts
In our minds
A part of us
Forever

Rest in peace Robert Yeoh

Play My Station (PMS Overdrive)

I'm angry. To think that I've gone past the years of being a teenager filled with angst towards the world has made me realize that I'm no longer an angry teenager, but an enraged and fuming mad adult.

When we were in our teens, we could be annoyed at everything and blame it all on our stage of puberty and the fact that our hormones are raging. My hormones don't rage, sure they get mad at each other but then they just stop speaking to one another. Sarcasm. With each passing year, our Sarcasm skill levels up and we upgrade our Irony Armour along with our Swords of Derision.

Why am I relating our teenage selves to Role Playing Games? Because I just trashed my PS2 whilst I was FF12ing. It took me 2 weeks to get it fixed and a month later it goes haywire on me. So with a power slap straight onto the motherboard, It cracked in half and I'm now officially PS2-less as well as ANGRY .

I can't get away with being infuriated anymore. I'm supposed to be grown up and matured and at peace with the world. Well to hell with that.

I'm PISSED! Leave me alone!

Breathe In Now

"A house is not a home when there's no one there to hold you tight and no one there you can kiss Goodnight..." (Luther Vandross)


Say Hi to the pregnant cat at Chap's.

Listening to very sad oldies has rendered me emo. I absolutely love retro music as I grew up listening to The Platters, The Carpenters (whom I absolutely love), Cyndi Lauper, Jefferson Starship, Tears for Fears to name drop a few. I'm glad that the music from the 70s and 80s
are making a comeback but I have yet to listen to a good re-make of the retro hits, apart from Madonna but that's a whole different ballgame right there.

Today, M&I stumbled across this fantastic bar which is relatively new and they were pumping out hits from the 80s and they serve Midori Illusions. Quite a surprise to see it tucked away in the corner of this new rising area in TTDI. Fantastic music, good drinks, not many pushers
and shove-ees, what more can a guy ask for? A few fans outside could possibly bring a wider smile across my face as I was melting away in the stuffiness and the heat of the night.

I would say I'm an old soul. I guess that's why I get along with people older than I and the younger crowd like my University mates are intimidated by me, or maybe it's because I'm 23 and I'm surrounded by boys and girls who call each other "dudes" and "chica". Sense the note of sarcasm and derision in my open and closed inverted comas.

I used to work for an events company which had posted me to supervise events during weekends at Zouk (Shook as the Chinese pronounce it) and I would get to see these kids who hang around outside smoking and desperately trying to get in by calling their contacts. Giving them the eye, I would usually walk off shaking my head and smiling to myself. I was one of them before. Used to go out clubbing at the tender age of 15, sneak into bars and pubs and get drunk but never making a mess out of myself. Those were the days. I hardly club anymore. Only on special occasions or if I'm forced to, which is highly unlikely since everyone around me knows how anti-social I am in clubs without several shots of whiskey running through my veins.

So now I sit in pubs, sip my half manly/girly drink and enjoy the music from my past. Seriously, what more can a guy of my stature ask for?

The Breaking of The Curse

June 19th. That fateful day. My birthday.

I have officially turned 23. That is the process of my life. I believe that age is just but a number, it does not dictate the amount of experience I have. Neither does it determine the maturity that I possess. In this 23 years of my life, despite me not achieving my life long goal of becoming a docile husband, I feel I have achieved a lot in my time.

I had a dinner party thrown by a few good friends of mine a couple of hours back, food cooked by the ever-entertaining Tasha & William and when we sat down to enjoy our after dinner wine and chat about the 70s and 80s music, I popped the question which had most of my friends stumped. I asked them if they had a choice to go back in time and change one thing they absolutely regret or they could head into the future and see how their life is there so they could change the present, which would they pick?

I may be loaded with humiliating moments that will haunt me till the day I wither and rot, but my choice would be neither. I do not live my life with regrets and I would not change my life in any other manner. It made me the way I am. Despite me taking the longer journey to my state of mind now, I still made it. Through series of events I have battled my way through life and I think I came out a winner. That would be my accomplishment and I would not have it any other way.

As for the future...I am interested to know. Who isn't? But to live my life day after day knowing that my life would end up the way it is in the future can take the fun out of the spontaneity in the present. I rather choose to live my life day by day.

I came back home with a smirk on my face, mostly cause my birthday curse has finally been broken, but also because a friend of mine said it's bullshit to not have at least one regret in one's life.

"What's your regret?"

"..."

Chains

Tis the season of break ups and breakdowns.

A friend of mine whom I've gotten quite close with the past few months got out of a month old relationship and is now dwelling in a hole of contempt and denial.

Another friend of mine broke up with her boyfriend because she was heading to Melbourne to pursue her degree and since she was thrown out of her comfort zone (her relationship of 3 years + her move to Australia) she is now desperately trying to establish a new one.

Meet Wilburt. A down to earth, hilarious and razor sharp guy who's world was turned upside down after crossing paths with a girl who shall be unnamed. Trying to hide his true feelings and avoiding his problems with tears of sorrow in solitude.

And last but not least, Donovan. After finding out his boyfriend has been cheating on him for the past few years is now confused on whether he should continue his relationship.

What do these people have in common? Denial. They choose to believe that not facing their problems would be the easiest solution to their distress. Despite knowing the truth they tend to lie to themselves and what is horrific is that they choose to believe in the lie. Lying is a part of human nature, whether it may be a little white lie to make someone feel better or a blatant one to cover up one's mistakes. But the worst lie of all is when one lies to him/herself and would not accept the truth.

When it comes to breaking up, I believe that it's better to face the truth with your heart on your sleeve and acknowledge the fact: it's over. I do not see stupidity in people, I see people who aren't willing to accept. No one is saying that the truth won't hurt. It would, but isn't that the part of the process of healing?

These people seek for comfort in me, that's what they all say, but instead they just want me to tell them the obvious. Not to sugarcoat things, but to tell them the honest truth. They ask me how should they get over someone. For me it's easy. To find closure is the only way. It could be as simple as an unsent handwritten letter to your once-loved one or it could be as drastic as cutting them out of your life. But closure only brings you that far. Then it's totally up to you to acknowledge it and LET IT GO.

I look back at my relationships and yes, there is no denying that I have been hurt or I have hurt my exes but I do not see it in a pessimistic manner. I choose to re-live the experiences of joy and happiness and even the depressing moments of my relationships and smile. Because that's the only way I know how to deal with these experiences and I believe that this would help me in my process called Life.

I remember laying on the bed in my Ex's room reading and him on my left snoring softly. I kissed him and whispered "I love you" in his ear hoping that he would have me in his dream. My moment of pure intimacy. I look back at this and smile.

I remember being thrown around in Perth and having my ex hit me across the face and dragging me across the carpeted floor and went back to Sydney with bruises and carpet burns all over my elbows. I look back at this and smile.

These are my experiences. If I could go back in time I wouldn't have changed a thing. Why? Because I have acknowledged it and let it go with a big pearly white smile across my face.

I may not be a prime example of someone who is an expert in relationships and breakups but I think I've done a pretty good job considering I'm still sitting here, alive and well.

So, don't take my word for it. Experience it and see if it works for you.

Convention Contortion

I really envy the people who can get drunk very easily. Why? Simple. It's cheaper.



The past few days I've been employed by Hess to be one of their exhibition staff which was held at the KLCC Convention Centre. The pay was good and it was recommended by a good friend of mine who worked side by side with me throughout the three days. I had to basically lug things around, pack hundreds of goodie bags, speak to engineers about career opportunities and what Hess does and also give them chocolates. Not to mention being hit on by old men, not because I'm good-looking don't get me wrong (insert Zoolander Theme here), but because they wanted a cup of hot coffee.

Unwrapping literally hundreds of paper bags and shoving Hess newspapers and pamphlets inside practically gave me a dozen papercuts which I don't really notice until I get back home and start wondering why the heck do my fingers itch. I found a really tiny piece of paper stuck in
my finger actually.

Yes I spent the whole 3 days speaking to people, showing them my pearly whites despite me sweating through my red polo shirt. Conversations usually went like this:

"Hello! Would you like a Hess chocolate?"

"Mm." *Looks at the wrapping* "What is this?"

"Chocolate."

"Oh! Choklit ah? Wah so nice ah. Tenk-U."

OR

"So what does your company do?"

"Hess actually does exploration and the production of oil."

"Okay, do you currently have any projects?"

"Um, I'm not sure. I'm actually the exhibition staff *shows name-tag*
but if you want, I could have one of the people from Hess speak to you
regarding your inquiry."

"No it's okay. Thanks."

Okay most of my conversations went like that. The ones that were annoying went something like this:

"You're Carigali Hess right? Do you know so-and-so?"

"Sorry, this is NOT Carigali Hess. Hess is actually the parent company of Carigali Hess."

"Oh. But is so-and-so here?"

"....No."

Poor thing, these people don't know that Kathia and I bitch about the marketing people who drop names just to show off to their little friends that they know people.

The last day was interesting though. I got insulted by a passer-by who apparently thought I looked like I had a hard life and gave me a freebie toy from Schlumberger. Yes, my partner in crime and I raided the whole Hall 1 convention centre to get a Phua Chu Kang contractor
hat, a small football, a few pens and notebooks, sunglasses, caps and bags.

So the 3 days of working was gone, and I got paid quite a bit from it, only to spend it all in one go on Friday night with my friends at Liquid. It was good money down the drain, literally since I puked out my insides on the side of the road. Like all other alcohol induced nights, only bits and pieces of what actually happened would haunt me till the day I kick the bucket. I remember the dancing, the wild whorish dancing. Slutty as it may be with the rubbing and the popping of the hips, I still have fun despite shivering everytime I think about it.

That's me, Whora Flynn Boyle.

The Dawn Of Awakening

"Why? Why are you doing this to me? Haven't I given you everything you want?"

"I don't want your meaningless gifts, I don't want your distasteful flattery, and most of all I don't want you," he said while turning his back.

I looked at him hoping to catch a glimpse of remorse in what he said. I bit my lip to fight back the tears. I loved him so much, how can he just throw away whatever we had just like that? Like a million pieces of glass, my heart shattered onto the ground. My whole world was crumbling around me.

"You said you loved me. What happened that made you take back whatever you said?"

He shifted his head and looked at me with the corner of his left eye and said, "I never said I loved you."

Digging my fingernails deep into my fist, I pounded the marble floor. The tears unleashed itself and started to fall onto the ground. I couldn't breathe. My whole body jerked each time I tried to breathe. I could hear myself crying out loud, yet I couldn't control it. He's hurting me and I couldn't understand why. How can someone I gave my heart, my body, my soul to be so cruel?

"Cry all you want. But don't think that you can use tears as a weapon against my conscience. If you haven't already noticed, I don't have any."

My eyes were blurry from the tears. I looked up to see his back heading towards the door. I wanted to stop him but my legs wouldn't respond. I lifted up my right arm and tried to grab a hold of him, his jeans, his shirt, anything I could to stop him from walking out of my life. I opened my mouth and his name came out with a shriek.

"Ethan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The sound of the door closing echoed in the still room.

(Written by: Ethan Lim. please don't plagiarize my narrative! thanx.)

Digital Fortress

back in the day when i had idealistic dreams and hopes, i always thought that i would be living happily with my boyfriend, spending every sunday in bed watching mindless television programs or him catching up on his work (may it be assignments or actual work) while i'm on my PS2 or reading/writing.

these dreams tend to drift away with each passing day that marks my birth into this world. my birthday is coming up, which makes it even harder for me now since i officially feel OLD (don't be an ageist and just try to agree with me). my 23rd year...it's a scary number. and like every other birthdays that have come to pass, tis the time when i start evaluating what i have done with my life; where i am, what i'm doing, etc.

i would like to think that i have touched a lot of people's lives, whether it be making someone smile, changing their perspective on certain subjects or even helping them through breakups. but...unfortunately at this moment i feel like i've been helping people out so much that i have been ignoring my needs. i always ask friends if they're content in life, but i've never really asked myself the same question.

i'm 23. i'm gay. and i'm lonely. yes the loneliness is palpable. it's made easier with friends but at the end of the day, i really would like to come home to someone. but here i am, stuck in this digital world where u scan through profiles and look at all these pictures of guys when u can never really get to know them. apart from blogging here i really do not see a point in having a profile. in fact it just makes me feel worse.

so writing here is my only getaway, where i go through an emotional rollercoaster and just vent my feelings out. i also do take pride in my writing, i'm currently working on a horror narrative which i do hope to post sometime soon.

anyways it's the time of the year where my emotions start running wild and my mind tends to over think certain issues and start evaluating my life.

i hate my birthday.

J'Adore Alexia

well it's time to post up my narrative for my Fictional
Writing class. a few notes before u continue to read my major project, the
dialogue bit is in french and as a "writer" i assume that people
reading it knows french, and btw it's quite badly translated (i'm still in the
process of learning!) so do not nitpick at this very grey area.



secondly the title actually means the 7 Deadly Sins in french, see if u can
actually spot the sins within my narrative.



thirdly, there are two parts to my narrative, i did not want the reader to
relate to the protagonist so i kept it cold and simple. everything is very
minimal, in contrast to the second part which is dark and dismal. i wanted to
portray the workings of a model, as in what we see on the exterior (photographs,
posters, etc) to what goes on in the inside. also names of brands, wines,
papers, etc do actually exist in this world. i did quite a bit of research and
poured out my heart and soul into this piece.



so i hope u guys who like reading enjoy it. any comments please feel free to
drop me a msg.

Les Sept Péchés Capitaux

Alexia opened the door with her keys and stepped into her apartment. She threw her keys into a glass bowl next to an array of neatly fanned out French Vogues, one of which had her posing on the front cover. Her skinny frame was dressed in agnès b. from top to toe, her long fiery red hair was tied back into a bun and she had pink Swarovski crystal studs glued to her smooth and fair face to contrast with her sapphire eyes. Next to her were the words "Alexia Cohen: la nouveau voix de la modèle".

She tip toed her way to her bedroom and remembered her former lover asking her, "Were you a ballerina? Or did you spend your lifetime walking on eggshells?".

She turned on the lights to find a picture lying on her 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. The picture was of a chubby and a thin girl, frozen in time laughing silently and their arms were around each other. She picked up the photo and stared at it, mesmerized by the uncanny similarity they had with each other. Her slender fingers slowly traced out the girl's face in the vintage photograph.

Celes…

She could still remember speaking to Celes like it was yesterday. Braiding each other's hair and talking about which guy in high school was cute, the fight they had over who Paul Vargen should take to the prom, the tears of happiness when Celes came out of the closet and introduced her girlfriend to Alexia. The last time they spoke to each other was when Celes got kicked out of rehab for doing crystal meth during one of her meetings.

Alexia walked over to her mahogany dressing table and set the photo down. She ignored the smudged Le Monde that had been there for a couple of days.

Model Hits Rock Bottom: Former top model, Celes Cohen, was diagnosed with having a mental breakdown after she was found naked on the streets of Charles-de-Gaulle Etoile. The photographer said she ran out on her last shot and witnesses saw her shrieking down the road of the café. Former co-worker and make-up artiste Jean Mallea revealed Cohen to have serious mental problems and had been consuming drugs during her previous shoots…

She moved to the kitchen with grace and agility, her stomach being abused from her starving it all day and demanding that she feed it immediately. A blast of cold air hit her as she opened the chrome refrigerator. Nothing. Her fridge was empty apart from a jar of pickles and a bottle of milk, both past its expiration date. Sighing to herself, Alexia picked up her phone and proceeded to dial La Favela Chic, the French version of HardRock Café. She straddled it with her neck and picked out a glass from the cabinet. Listening to the phone ring, Alexia watched the clear liquid flow straight into the glass as she turned on the tap. She took a gulp from it and left it at the basin.

"Alo, La Favela Chic, est-ce que je peux prendre votre ordre, sil vous plais?"

"Bonjour, c'est 18B Champ de Mars."

"Mademoiselle Cohen? Voulez-vous le même passer une?"

"Oui."

"La facture devoir…"

Alexia did not bother listening to the amount she needed to pay. She hung up and grabbed her handbag she threw on the white leather couch. She fished out 80,000 Francs and slipped it into one the many white envelopes she had lying on the round frosted glass coffee table. She slid the envelope gently underneath the door of her apartment; afraid that the delivery man will find out that the food is just for her. Trying to make it seem like she had a party going on, Alexia turned her Bang & Olufsen on and the apartment was filled with Camino Del Sol's haunting voice.

It was time to relax while her food was being delivered to her doorstep. She went through her mail that was sitting on her alabaster table next to her door and found the Hello! magazine delivered to her monthly from Leonard. Attached to the magazine was a note that said:

Hey sexy.

Saw your cover on Elle. Keep up the good work.

Miss that supple pink nipples of yours.

When will you come for me again?

Leo

Alexia thought about the men she had met up with and casually ended the night with their bodies entwined from heat and she giggled to herself. She tore the Post-It from the magazine and crumpled it up and tossed it aside. What’s the point in having a maid when the apartment is always clean? She ripped the plastic covering the magazine and flicked it nonchalantly. She sat down on her couch and started flipping through the magazine. There were pictures of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, Britney shaving her head and other celebrities in their get-ups for various award ceremonies. Her eyes were drawn to an article on a beautiful red-head with eyes of blue.

After former top model Celes Cohen was checked into Esquirol hospital, a mental institution in France, her twin sister Alexia took over the reign of her modeling career and stole the world by storm…

Alexia ignored the knocking on her door and her eyes continued darting across page 16 of the magazine.

Alexia weighed in at about 130lbs but soon after her sister left the modeling world, she dropped a shocking 35lbs within 2 months. Now weighing 95lbs, Alexia is even thinner than her sister and is speculated for having an…

Alexia threw the magazine across the room.

Fuck you.

She could feel her eyes starting moisten. Damn mother fuckers and their fucking lies. Alexia picked herself up and took a deep breath, straightening and fluffing her Carven couture babydoll dress. The knocking had stopped and she was ready to pick up her dinner sitting outside the front door. She unlocked the latch to the door and slowly opened it to take a peek outside. The delivery man along with the white envelope was gone. In its place were two brown paper bags. She quickly snatched the bags and closed the door silently.

Upon opening the first paper bag after setting it down on her glass dining table, she brought out two cheese steak burgers wrapped in aluminum foil, a Styrofoam box of onion blossoms and a bottle of Côtes du Jura to go with her 2 cream based pastas in the other brown bag. Grabbing a fork from her utensils drawer she sat down and started to inhale the cabonara pasta pancetta, occasionally digging her cream stained fork into the onion blossoms and stuffing it down her throat.

Alexia was halfway through her 2nd serving of spaghetti bolognese when she felt her stomach groan and expand. She took a large sip from her glass of wine and continued to eat, occasionally stopping to take a deep breath. Her stomach could not stand it anymore. She set her fork down and looked at the two cheese steak burgers, unwrapped and sitting there on top of the aluminum foil. She closed her eyes and thought of Celes, her bony structure, the sunken-in cheekbone, her perfect abs…

Alexia opened her eyes to find Belial standing in front of her. His demonic eyes fixated on hers. In his scaly inhuman hands was a mirror in which he extended his arms for her to take a look. The reflection showed a grotesquely huge woman, sitting in the same position she was sitting in, her face drooped like a bulldog, the neck bunched up in fats and her arms rolled in cellulite.

NO! That's not her! She watched in horror as the mirror reflection of herself pointed at her and laughed. Yet nothing could be heard apart from the music playing at the background. Each time she laughed, her flabby double chin would shake and flap around.

Like a droplet falling into still water, ripples took the image of the fat woman away and replaced her with Celes' zed card. Yes, Celes was perfect. Her eyes pierced through the glossy card and into Alexia's soul, her features sharp and fairy-like.

Belial set the oval mirror on the table and picked up one the cheese steak burgers. He held it out to Alexia, the burger dripping with jack cheese on his rough palms. He smiled at her, like a snake his tongue darted in and out of his sharpened blood stained teeth. He stretched out his arms even further, the tip of the burger touching her cabonara and bolognese covered lips. She slowly parted them and took a huge bite into the burger. She could taste the juicy grilled beef wrapped in the saltiness of cheese and sautéed mushrooms melting into her mouth. She grinded the remnants of her first bite and swallowed it down. More. She snatched the burger from Belial's palms and started to feed on it, each bite tasting even better than the last. Her eyes bulged out and she made her way through the last morsel, her hands were covered in oil and fluids from the beef patty.

Her stomach was reaching its limits, but she was still hungry. She greedily grabbed the second cheese steak burger and masticated on it. Upon devouring a quarter of the burger, she could feel it rise from her abdomen. She looked up and watched Belial point to the bathroom door with his long brown fingernails. It was coming, and it was coming fast. She threw the vestiges on the table and darted into the bathroom.

Alexia hunched over the toilet seat and felt it at the back of her throat. She unhinged her jaws and everything came spurting out; surge after surge of food that she consumed. As she grabbed on to the toilet seat, the force of it threw her head back slightly and it snapped back into place after each gush. Welts of tears formed at the corner of her eyes and rolled off her face like hot coals. It was the last stream of herself and she could now feel the acidic taste burning through her throat. Her limbs were limp from the whole ordeal and she struggled to peel her body from the bathroom floor.

With her left hand, Alexia reached out and turned the silver handle anti-clockwise. She watched the dark orange fluid with bits and pieces mix in with the water, making its way down the hole. The flushing sounds echoed through the hollow toilet bowl and into the tiny bathroom.

Alexia stepped in front of the sink and looked at herself in the cabinet mirror latched onto the wall. Her gorgeous red hair now had clumps of remnants in it, the eyeliner blended with her tears and was melting down on her face. She turned on the tap and the water gushed through the faucet. She bent down and washed the chunks away from her mouth and her hair. The water merged with her liquefied eyeliner and turned black as she softly scrubbed her eyes. She straightened her back and looked into the reflection again, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed into Belial's beady eyes.

"I'm perfect."