Thursday, June 30, 2005

Comments 2

All-right, I turned it off. Most of the comments were nothing more then vandalism on MY blog. Your disapporval of me doesn't matter as long as you shit far away from my front door.

I've never hurt anyone and I cannot understand why people would want to say nasty things to hurt me.

If you don't like me, don't turn up here.

Not that difficult right, Just. Go. Away.

Let me do my thing for the people that appreciate it and leave me alone. Why is that so difficult.

You're ruining a good thing for me and ruining a good thing for the people that like it. Because you can't enjoy something that someone else can shouldn't be reason for you to take it away from the people that do.

Unless of course you're stupid enough to believe that the Pie of Enjoyment is limited, and if someone else is having a good time, then there must be less of a 'good time' for you to experience.


Finding Out.

Oh, less then 24 hours back in sunny Singapore (where my fingers don’t freeze and I can workout out-doors) and I already miss the G-spot. It’s no big deal; I only really miss how sweet he is, and the cool ideas he has for the films he wants to make, his thoughts about people and books and the odd characters we’re all bound to have to deal with at some point in our lives. And of course I miss getting warm under the sheets with him.

About-a-week sure passed quite fast, and I am always amazed at how much I seem to grow up each time I allow myself a new experience (which is all the time, as often as I can afford it). I don’t think I’m the same person now as I was before I left, and I am definitely not the same person now as I was at the star of the year. There are lots of things, of course, but one things for sure and I am glad for it. I am a great deal calmer now.

Martine called me once while we had been shopping for cheap wine and I realized I wasn’t fazed by him any longer. Which is really good, because I still like him; but we all know the more desperate we are for someone, the less we mean to them. What a god-awful paradox, but such is the joy of life. We didn’t talk about much, mostly over things concerning the recent media hoopla. He still sounded rather fond of me, but that was never something I doubted.

The G-Spot and I were talking about how unfair it all was, the other day on the Sky Tower (lovely view, with the whole of the city snaking below during rush hour past sun-set. The best city panorama is gotten after the stars have come out, but who doesn’t know that). How unfair it is that someone might make such a big impression on someone else’s life, and the sentiment isn’t returned. We all know how that feels. When someone means the world to you, and seem to have changed your perspective on life so much, and altered your plans for the future, and you find out that they are not as decided about where you fit into their life as they fit into yours. And it’s just no bloody fair, and there’s nothing we can do about it.

I’ll always wonder why some people affect us deeply and why some don’t. But I suppose its just like film, or books or music. Different people identify with different things. Sometimes I think it’s because I’m so young and I haven’t been dating for very long that even a relationship that lasts for a year would mean so much. It’s because I don’t know the effects that the progression of time will have on the connections I have with people I really like now, that I feel a desperate need to cling onto them. One of the reasons (and I told him this) I’d come down to NZ to visit was because I had to Find Out. In all honesty, I had no idea what I’d been attempting to search for, but whatever it was I am certain I’d found it. Because I feel content.

G asked me if I thought we’d still be friends a long time from now.

I told him I certainly would hope so.

Monday, June 27, 2005

Pulp Fiction

I swear to God, when I get back to Singapore, I'm going to make Tori and some of her best buddies watch Pulp Fiction with me. It is THE best Bad Mother Fuckin' movie of the 90's. It's THE movie for the 90's (and in my opinion, Garbage is THE band of the 90s).

Anyway, I've got a movie date with the G-Spot and Fight Club, so here's a quick note.


Is my popularity due to my writing or my pictures. While the sudden spate of attention, both wanted and unwanted is mostly due to my naked breasts, I had 3000 unique readers a day before that. I was happy with that. How many 19 year old girls have had at that many readers consider what they have written and treat at least some of the things I have said, with relative seriousness.

The fact is, I don't care for the attention from people who only want to see my breasts. I wouldn't sleep with the most gorgeous, richest, most famous guy on earth if he were a pompous blank headed arsebitch.

Look man, I am not proud of my sudden popularity, I am happy that I have it because more people are reading. And even if out of the additional several thousand nosey perverts, I get say, another 100 avid readers, then man, I don't see any reason not to be happy.


I must now save the G-Spot from getting into another pointless conversation with his crazy roomate. That guy was fighting with the other roomie last night over.. *gasp* at what angle to place the dining chairs after dinner. Age and hardship doesn't really make people any smarter, really. This guy is as old as my parents, but SO silly.


Sunday, June 26, 2005


If you're just going to call me a slut, just don't bother. I rather be a slut then an idiot with a tight wedgie up my ass. You're just spamming up the comment feature. I'll try this bloody thing for a few days and see if people actually bother to say anything worthwhile. If they don't, then it really kinda defeats the purpose. You are completely welcomed to disagree with me, but you better have a good reason to do so, and you should do it nicely. Otherwise, go shit on your own blog and leave the people who actually have something worthwhile to say, alone.

Actually, I think it would be really interesting if people generally have intelligent, logical arguments and voiced them here, because now a whole lot of people are reading. And it will be nice to know that we aren't as conservative as the powers that be think we are. And maybe we're ready for a change.

My fingers are freezing off and I can barely type, so I'll just leave it off as that.


Saturday, June 25, 2005

Better then Nothing.

I adapted this post from someone I know. I love her style, her attitude, and how smart she is. (No, this is NOT me trying to write as someone else. The ideas and general structure of the essay was someone else's, she simply needs to practice non-fiction writing, that is all. And maybe work on her grammar a little more. But hey man, this chick hasn't even gotten past adolescence.


Know how your parents would say how satanic people who are older then you would generally tell you Marilyn Manson really is? (And say that those people who are older then you who disagree are equally as possessed, although it is completely clear they lead perfectly normal, happy lives) Or how Rock music, Heavy metal and the whole of pop-culture should not be pursued, much less indulged in and allowed to infiltrate through those teeny-bop adolescent ears? Well, you can tell them to fuck themselves.

You can tell them to fuck themselves because I don’t believe (and don’t ask me who am I. I am just me, and I am entitled to believe that I am smarter then you) that an individual can possibly be considered demoniac simply because they listen to music that you don’t like. (Hey man, Marilyn Manson can make more sense in one line, then ten of the top blonde bimbos have in full albums about a their broken heart. At least if it was about my broken heart, that would make more sense. But what the hell).

The people who should in fact be considered evil would be the ones that judge others. If you read the bible, you dim-shits (God, forgive me for calling your creation dim-shits; I know I should really turn the other cheek, but I simply couldn’t help it) you’ll realize that most of the Gospels (at least) focus on the sin of hypocrisy more then anything else. Who did Jesus punish the most? The prostitutes or the Pharisees? (If you’re too stupid, I’ll tell you the answer, it’s the latter, friggin’ hell.

The NEWS. Ah now, that’s mighty bad, baby. It tells you what’s bad and what’s good, and most of the time, it tells you that everything is pretty much bad. They make the people that criticize bad people look bad; let’s not even go into how they make the stupid people that criticize stupid people look. And not only is it mighty bad, it’s also mighty bad luck. It influences your state of mind, and now you get all these whacky people worrying about terrorist all the friggin’ time. And do you know what kind of minutes that wastes at the airport? Minutes that can be spent insulting stupid people on the internet through their free internet access? Man, that’s a whole lot of wasted minutes you have there.

The news is bullshit, and nothing is more bullshit then news from this country. You KNOW which country. All the countries that are full of conservative bullshit; but more on that later. When you do something for yourself and the ones you love, they twist everything around and make you seem like you’ve regretted what you’ve done, and tell the truth in such a way that you look bad, even when you’ve actually done nothing wrong. This country is fucked up. When the Party Girl posted those nude pictures, everyone called her a slut. And when she took them off, everyone called her weak, although she damn well took them off because someone she loved said, ‘take it off’. As simple as that.

You know why? You should be ashamed if you don’t know why. Because this Lolita is still very much the nubile nymphet and knows why. All your years of age didn’t do you no good I see. Gave you a few wrinkles, a wasted libido and an unjustified cynicism. Anyway, I’ll tell you why. It’s because you don’t give two hoots about what they have said, and maybe they don’t like that. It’s also because they think they cater to an audience that doesn’t think and that apparently believes everything they say. And the scary thing is, that works, because a whole lot of you really ARE stupid and find yourself believing what they say.

Why should you believe anything I say? I’m not saying that you should, but it would certainly make more sense to. Because I’m not being fucking paid by anyone to say what I say, and I don’t have purposes of mind control behind anything. Minds that are easily controlled can’t possible be worth my time. And if you’ve even asked that question, it’s only because I’ve prompted you to ask it, because you don’t already know the answer. Dumbass.

It’s just like the crap all-girlie institution I go to. The entire place thinks everyone is lesbian (which they are), and they make everyone seem wrong (which they aren’t, because in that case, all the female race would be wrong. Come on, since Henry and June was published, who doesn’t already know the entire female race is innately kinda gay) It’s an all-girls institution that didn’t allow boys to their recent rock concert fund-raiser.

You see, now if they would just say it’s because they are all for girl-love and girl-power, that would make them seem uber-hip, and all the parents that grew up in the uber-hip Flower Power 70s (most of the affluent ones did it in Oxford because education for rich ASEAN kids then was kinda cheap there, and they all wore bell-bottoms and sung yellow submarine in their hot baths) would want to send their kids there. In which case, they wouldn’t have to get us to sell fund-raising tickets for silly concerts to people who only buy them because it’s their bloody duty to help out the education system in This Country –although we all know the amount of money the Government has set aside for education- They’ll only need to sell stage space and time at the school auditorium to parents who’d always wanted to be rock-stars by became instead an endless line of engineers, lawyers and doctors.

I can’t believe how stupid these people are. It is clearly a sign of ignorance by saying that a photo of me kissing another babe in front of the country’s flag is such a shame. Bullshit. Why should that be a shame? So many cities in the world are looked at as some of the world’s greatest because they are sexually vibrant. From London to Prague to Sydney to San Francisco.

Oh hey, wait a minute, We’re quite proud of Kumar and Liang Bo Bo (Resident hermaphrodite granny and star of one of our top grossing movies. And we really don’t have many.) I see now. We want the country to be sexless, duh. Unfortunately we have screwed if up and made the only weird sexual deviance we can all appreciate Tran-sexuality. Hey man, at least we can tolerate some sexual deviance. I say, Better Than Nothing babe. Better then Nothing.


By The Way. I bet all of you a sexy picture that Esquire's Sexiest Woman alive is Angelina Jolie.



There will be 2 articles about me in that Trashbag of a newspaper again. The one that fucked up Dee sometime ago and made her look like the epitome of teenage binge drinking (tell me, who here hasn't gone on a alcoholic free for all at least once (meaning drinking more then you can handle) since they had accessible alcohol?).

All I can say is, whatever they put on there, don't believe all of it. If you do, you're a real idiot. I have just gotten an email that Denise Keller disses me or something in it. I just cannot believe it, that is all. She may no agree with every damn thing I do, but I just can't imagine anyone VJ-ing for MTV dissing me off, not because I'm so good, but because I am partly a product of MTV.

I don't see Ronald McDonald telling obese people that it's their burgers that has made them fat.

But hey, what do I know. The emailer could be gotten his info from a rather unreliable source, or TNP could just decide NOT to publish the article. Who knows.

Filming went great today and was generally a whole lot of fun. The more I talk to the people here that are studying art, the more I realize how the creative projects (independant or otherwise) in Singapore are so mediocre compared to the ones here. The ironic thing is, I do know Singaporeans have talent, it's just that a whole lot of them seem to be located a few blocks from where I am currently housed at.


Friday, June 24, 2005

Cold, Wet, but Not Hungry.

The weather has been pretty dreadful the last 2 days, but most of it was spent indoors, so it didn't really matter. We went up to Whiheki island, a little north from Auckland by ferry to visit an old friend of G's back from god-knows-when. I thought he was married to this absolutely gorgeous girl (they had a kid, but apparently having a kid doesn't mean you're married, have to be, or should be), turns out they're something G refers to as de-facto. I don't even think you have to sign any civil union bullshit. People here are very sensible, aren't they. The more I think about it, the more I think using children as a reason for your unhappiness in a marriage that's only there because children exist, is really kinda lame.

In my opinion as a female person, woman, girl, whatever, the marriage before baby thing is one of the biggest things in most conservative societies that come in the way of female emancipation.

Females were meant to have sex, lots of it, make babies and thereafter nurture them. Think about it, people and relationships are responsibilities. Marriage can help share the responsibility, but it can also increase it. If the relationship becomes a burden, not only do you now have to manage the kids, you’ve also got to manage unnecessary emotional drama.

I can’t understand women who choose to wait until they find the right one before having a child. Because when you do find the right one, it could just be too late, much too late (I cannot get Nicholas Cage from the Vampire’s Kiss out of my head!). Besides, who is the right one, and why should you even need him anyway. Oh it’s a scam I tell you, (not trying to do an Eve Ensler here, but when a woman has become such a powerful pop icon of rights for the modern female…) It’s something a male dominated society has been using for the last few centuries to make you believe you need Them. Because apparently, they need you. Women can make babies, men can’t. And in a way, I really believe, whether They knew it or not, the past few centuries of male supremacy has suppressed the female capacity to earn and feed herself, much less another dependant, to give us a false sense of need.

That we need Them.

That was a tad too feminist for me really, I love men, and there’s no reason to be pissed of at them because it wasn’t their fault several centuries ago their predecessors were a bunch of arrogant blokes. It’s just that I honestly don’t think marriage should come in the way of a anyone’s male or female’s free choice to have a child.

The couple we met yesterday clearly, consciously decided to have one, despite not being married. They may do it in a month, in a year, or perhaps never, but the great thing is, they didn’t let a ceremony come in the way of what they wanted to do. To put it simply, marriage and having a child should not be tied together. What if you wanted to have a child, but didn’t want to get married?

I was reading this comic about Women on the Edge some time ago, and there was this cartoon of all the stuff men could get away with that women didn’t. One panel showed this old lady looking at a single mom, thinking, ‘what an irresponsible slut’, and beside that square, was the same old lady looking at a single dad going, ‘how sweet, he’s trying to take responsibility’. I will simply not get it. Why is it that in so many cultures, it’s perfectly acceptable for men to screw around and cheat on their partners, and such a taboo when women do it?

Anyway, I was really fascinated by the couple we’d stayed over at last night’s. I suppose it’s all rather commonplace here and in Europe, and in many other places, but Asia still has some way to go. And you know what? It’s not a bad thing. The breaking down of the traditional family unit doesn’t equate to the breaking down of the family until itself. Kids by single mothers are not in the possibility of getting any less love then kids from nuclear families. It’s all up to the people that look after them. I know people that have with parents that have been trying to ‘fix the marriage’ for the last two decades of their lives, and it’s really no fun. They’re married, but so what.

I suppose the more we think about things, the more we realize a lot of what we grew up with is bullshit. If we’d all just stop trying to think someone else is living ‘wrongly’ then perhaps we’ll see that happiness can be found in so many more ways then one.

I have now memorized all my lines for the film tomorrow, the G-Spot looks like an absolute angel in bed –he’s been SO sweet- I’ll leave this cold computer and find affection elsewhere.

The media hype is dying down now, which is good, because I think it was starting to get ridiculous. If you think I will do anything to make a pointless statement like, ‘posting nude pictures of yourself online isn’t wrong’, you’re wrong. What’s the point in making statements like that anyway? Posting nude pictures of myself has given me publicity, which I like and which has in a way, made me better off –if for no more then the fact that the dear Mr. Martine called me up to tell me to hang in there-, but it’s not going to produce the same results for everyone. And if I took them down because I thought it would be better to (and I don’t regret the article I got by ST about me removing the pictures) then I did it out of the same reasons I do most things. Because it felt like the right thing to do then.

And that’s pretty much how everyone should live life, because really, there’s only that one moment you’ll experience it, ever. That moment of making a decision, and doing it. The clock ticks, and it’s gone. I believe very strongly in the human instinct for grasping at the right things at the right time. It’s only when we attempt to distort it with stupid cultural barriers (that make you feel that what you feel at that point in time is not right) like you need marriage before you have a baby… that things just don’t really work out as right as they could have been.


Wednesday, June 22, 2005


I just finally managed to read the ST article about me. The one with the picture of me in the red top,. If anyone needs to know the background of that photograph *laughs* I'd shot it on National Day's eve actually, and had posted it someone back last year, just for the heck of it.

Anyway, I'd really like to thank Melissa (the reporter that did the article) for writing what she did, and trying to get it through to the press without losing the tone she had intended for it to have.

I know the whole affair is no big deal, and the idiot that was worried about people outside thinking that Singaporeans might be seen as dirty minded should come to realize that people outside are not thiking that SIngaporeans are too dirty minded. In fact, they are thinking we are a bunch of sexually deprived, unnecessaryly anal people who like making a big deal out of nothing. But still to me it is a big thing, because it is my life out there on the bloody papers. I can't possibly help feeling that way, can I?

And that crazy chick who thinks her brother might get a porn adiction because he sees a naked photograph of me really needs to rethink her sensibilities. What are the chances that that little boy stumbles onto one of the millions of unmonitored XXX sites and the chances that he finds that picture of me? And add to that the scale of arousal he will hit of on an animated gif of two lesbian teenagers fucking each other with a big black dildo and the level he'll hit looking at my breasts; you know what I'm getting at.

For heaven's sake, your children are sexual, and they will find sexual arousal in anything. If you really want to protect them from sex and masturbation, I suggest the best thing to do will be to remove their imagination. But the Government wouldn't like that. Seeing as how we are trying so hard to make this into a vibrant arts city.

That will be a criticism for another day really. For now, I will be heading off for dinner at a cute cafe and yet another season blockbuster, with an emohasis on Bust. And because I've got such a fantastically fantastic imagination when it comes to all things erotic, I will be spending much of my night tonight thinking about how her nipples look like underneath the leather femme fatale outfit.



I received a rather weird e-mail from someone who’d once lived in Auckland; went something along the lines of how ironic it is that I am in the situation I happen to be in at the moment. Which is to say, sharing a single bed in a tiny room in a flat with two huge Russians, one of which owns a fake leg and can’t piss properly standing up; which however isn’t a problem since he doesn’t piss standing up in the first place anyway.

The G-Spot finally got down to purchasing a heater, so I can now walk about in a comfortably unclothed state, which would in turn encourage the process of garnering sexual attention, which is always a good thing. But only of course, if you want it in the first place.

But back to that rather queer email. The irony of my situation, as said in the letter, was that I had initially embarked upon becoming an SPG because the expats you get to date in Singapore are all generally rich and live in luxurious conditions along River Valley road.

Let me say this, I don’t care where the person lives, whether it’s going to be a penthouse on the Sail, a basic flat in NZ or the block of apartments facing mine (although I can assure myself that I have no desire whatsoever to shit where I eat). I date people (and sleep with whoever I want to) because they are worth my time.

I love the G-Spot, he’s fantastic. He’s sweet and considerate, creative, are really considers my creative input into things. Although I don’t bother to give much because the film isn’t my production, and creative people are like that. They like things to be mostly theirs. I hope the film works out well. There’s not been much for me to see in NZ actually, I was here 2 years back for a good long time, and from what I remembered, there wasn’t much for me to do them either. I think the charm of the place mostly rests in being able to relax, get some crisp, cold, fresh air, watch a couple of art-house movies in kitschy art-house cinemas, walk around the area and get out of the cold occasionally into cute cafes. These are normally staffed with really friendly people you can talk to and take photographs behind the counter with, They’ll even teach you how to use their coffee machines if you ask nicely.

He’s been taking me around to visit some of his friends, and they are all such chilled out people you won’t believe it. I don’t feel like a third party that’s never been into their homes before when G just… invites us over. People in Singapore are hospitable, but even with your own relatives (mine, which I visit only on Chinese New Year) they always seem to go overboard with things, and offer to help you out at every corner, and maybe it’s because they’re bloody hospitable, but it could also just be because we’re a lot more suspicious of people we don’t know well. Even if they come on good standing with someone we trust entirely.

We were cuddled up in bed together last night talking; it’s just so lovely to be pulled into someone that you really, really like (who smells and feels so good too!). I was all warm and fuzzy, and he kept on kissing me periodically throughout several hours and saying how glad he was that I was here.

‘You know, I don’t think I could stand it if it were anyone else.’ I told him.

‘Stand what?’ He asked.

‘Oh you know. Living in this tiny room, not having a heater and sharing a single bed, and having you work on the production most of the time, but with you, I think it’s really great.

I turned around and faced him, and he kissed me again and again. There was a pause, and I was suddenly aware of me breathing in his breath, and I realized something. That I really didn’t have problems breathing in someone else’s breath. Which for me really is a rarity. It’s not that the other people I’ve slept with had particularly undesirable dental hygiene, or that his mostly reminded me of Calvin Klein’s Obsession. I just… loved it.

You know, we all appreciate people for showing us different things, for making us feel different emotions and making us aware of bit and pieces of us we weren’t aware of or perhaps have forgotten in the drive for ever newer, more observably impact-full experiences; like promises of fame or money, or whatever. But the best things could just be the simplest kinda things.

And the G-Spot makes me feel comfortable. I feel that way because he appreciates me, and likes me for the person I am, and I don’t have to trick myself into trying to make myself love him more then I already do anyway, because what I feel is enough as it is to make the relationship really worthwhile.

I just feel happy, and relaxed, and like I want to shag him all the time, which is great. If there is one thing about this trip that would have made it completely worthwhile (short of the film going to Sundance *shrugs* -hey, you gotta shoot for the stars-) I think it will have to be how I had 12 days of lots of normal people sex.

For the last 6 months, if I was not feeling like sex was being demanded from me (Ethan, Chris…) then I felt like it was being withheld from me (and I was nothing short of a depraved, emotionally confused nymphomaniac that had no self- respect… Martine). Or that I simply had no control and was so powerfully physically attracted to the other person I just couldn’t fucking help it. And while I never felt guilty about the latter it never seemed like it was worth anything.

Strangely enough, when G wants to make love to me (or fuck me, or whatever, same difference) I feel as if he was doing me the favour of wanting to do so. And I (think) he feels the same way too. And that’s when the relationship makes sense, and I’m not stressed out, and more importantly, I’m not detached. I’m not observing the sex we have from a logical point of view, and I’m not trying to rationalize or theorize it, or to convince myself that it’s really good and cool and experimental. Because I do that sometimes, when I try to reconcile the fact that the sex I have is really quite pointless, but there are other reasons as to why I do it. And I won’t say it’s wrong to say, have a threesome for the experience, I just don’t think there’s a point in doing it all the damn time, that’s all. And I won’t say sugar-daddying is wrong, it’s just that it will be pointless if it goes on too long, and if you sacrifice your emotional comfort for it.

Sex was never painful or traumatizing for me. But sometimes, I have just felt like it was a god-damn waste of time. And while I don’t take it seriously, I now believe that treating it too casually isn’t going to do you any good either. It’s just like food. You simply have to know what’s good for you, and strike that balance.

Sex with several people in varied forms will not make the act any less valuable or less meaningful to the individual when the right people come along. But in the meantime, if you kind-a don’t have that balance, it’s not going to be very good for your sanity either. And a wrong mentality towards sex can rub off in a relationship that might actually mean something, and then if you don’t figure it out soon enough, you could be pretty darned sorry when it’s too late.


Monday, June 20, 2005


I am so out of touch. Can some one please email me the details of the news reports?

Martine tried calling me up yesterday, rather woried that I may have defamed his name in some way, whether intentionally or otherwise when he saw my pictures splashed across the papers. I told him he was never mentioned as anything else aside from someone that I was in love (and perhaps still am) with. He never left my mind, but I suppose that isn't even vaguely astonishing. I suppose most of it's really because for awhile, he loved me exclusively, and I made him very happy.

Well, I am happy here in NZ, despite the fact that but the G-Spot and I are freezing our asses off acn I can barely type because my fingers are shivering too much to hit the keys steadily. Yes I am sharing a single bed in a tiny room that doesn't even have a heater. But you know, it isn't so bad when the person your under the sheets with is lovely cute, sweet, and isn't even half as self centered as I am *laughs*

We are heading off to a warm cafe now and to buy an electric blanket. A MUCH needed electric blanket. I suggested a romp in his parent's farm and an introduction to some of his lesbian girlfriends, but apparently they're all away from sem. break, and he tells me I'm crazy to want to romp in the cold. Which is true. It IS too cold.


Sunday, June 19, 2005

Singapore conservative? Bullshit.

You know Singapore isn’t a conservative society. Conservative societies are driven by religion, Singapore, is driven by money. If you can’t comprehend that, let me put this horrid, hard fact to you this way: We are a capitalistic society.

Sometimes I get the strange feeling that the media decided to go to press with a biased view to my story (the very first article anyway, I have not read the ones that have since gone out since I left for NZ, and definitely do not endorse the article by TNP, although I did give them an interview, mostly because I don’t have much of an alternative anyway. They would still have gone to press I suppose, whether or not I did. Better to have a say and no say at all). Anyway, I have this feeling that they do so to make me shut up, or to get my parents to make me close the blog down. Or whatever. This would have been the 3rd time I’ve been egged on to get it shut down. But you can forget it, I will never do that.

Anyone been a fan of COLORS magazine? The one by Italian fashion house Colors of Benetton? It was the really cool one that dealt with world culture and how people all around the world responded and behaved towards certain things, ranging from drugs, to sex to heaven and hell; so the list goes on. It has been banned from Singapore. Now you know why you cannot find it at Basheer.

From the Straits Times, June 9
‘A magazine published by Italian fashion house United Colors of Benetton has been taken off the shelves here because of its explicit illustrations and photos of nudity, orgies and other sexual acts. […] ‘

Oh Yeah. Sure we’re really afraid of insulting people with having such content publicly available and purchasable, but sure we aren’t bothered with Casinos and their strip shows coming into town. You know why? Who cares who you’re going to insult if you’re making that much money. Only, I think Colors has more educational value then a Las Vegas strip show coming right into the middle of town.

It’s how the media spins it baby. They say they can control it, they say Casinos will make the country more vibrant and entertaining. Whatever having a Casino in the country would entail would be worth it. With Colors and with my photograph, it is nothing more the encouraging immorality within our society.

Of course Casino shows are only available to people after a certain age and Colors magazine and my photograph could have been view by a 10 year old, but the thing is, is it SO wrong for a kid to se a naked picture of me? To read an article about sex? Children are sexual creatures anyway. And they will all learn about it soon enough. But is it wrong to open an entire industry that condones blatant sex for sale? I have nothing against strippers or prostitutes, or that there’s even anything wrong with it, as long as the person that goes into it does it of her own free will and understands the responsibilities behind it and puts no one else at risk. But I have something against a society that does not see the imbalance and the irrational in its attempt to ‘protect’ the society from sexual vice.



Just leave me alone.

Any article about me as a 'nude blogger' after yesterday's ST does not come with my support or agreement. There's nothing I can do I suppose, and it's probably going to be pretty naff. But whatever. Just so you know, I never agreed to anything. Besides, ho could I? When they don't come clean with you what exactly will be published?



drugged out good morning :D

I'm warm an snug in a fluffy Guess sweater, just right out of a shower and right out of bed. Still feeling a little drugged out from all the sleeping aids I'd taken to beat the jet lag, but it'll go away after a little walk and some breakfast, I suppose.

The G-Spot has been simply lovely, and he personality wise, he's not changed very much at all. Always as considerate (then again, I would never have expected otherwise). We spent most of yesterday snuggled in bed, because I apparently wasn't the only one staying up the whole night in an uncomfortably full Air NZ flight. When he had told me initially he'd only had a single bed, I'd freaked out (how are we going to share it?) But it wasn't much of a problem really, and in the heart of winter (althought North Island winters dont get really cold) you do need the warmth. And it was just lovely, cuddling to sleep with him.

After I'd landed, he's taken me to his friend's pad, where the girl of the couple was waiting, any day now, to give birth. They were really fun people. I showed them the news articles, and they laughed their heads off. Everyone else around the world is probably thinking how weird we all must be to make a big deal out of nothing. But anyway,

I'm hoping my life will settle down for now, but until then, you'll have to do with a gaping hole up there. My apologies, but it had to be done. I don't want to be in the limelight for such silliness, not so much for myself but like I'd said before, for the sake of my parents. I have the luck to leave the country, but they don't.

I hate thier 'friends' for wanting to nose into their business. Do they suppose that my own parents don't know what's going on in my life? Do they suppose that they don;t know the wild, irreverant thing I am? Of course they do. No need to be the good samaritan and tell them so. I suppose in a way, they have accepted me for who I am, althought they do not necessarily agree with me. But that's good enough for us as a family, and we don't need people aggrivating the balance. It's simply none of your business.


Saturday, June 18, 2005

sorry guys

Am in NZ at the moment having a blast with the G-Spot. He's wrapping me up into his terribly exciting arty-fartsy life, and I'm having too much fun to want to bother with anything that's going on Sg at the moment.

Parents say pics go, so pics go. Period. You like me for who I am, sex or no sex. But I am sex so, whatever. Thing is, that's got to be what it is for now. I just can't be bothered. Don't attempt to call or contact. I'm sorry if I have disappointed anyone, but hey, I have my own life to lead too. I'm not something for you to entertain yourselves with.


Friday, June 17, 2005

There are more important things...

I’m very tired and emotionally drained, but I think I’ve finally gotten all my thoughts consolidated finally, and it is this: I know what I want to be known for, and what I would like to be public for, and it is definitely not for the ability of being able to strip in front of the camera. You see, I don’t strip take nude photos or post them for the sake of attention. I knew it would get me some attention when I did, but it was more of a, ‘Hey, check her out, she can write well, but she’s pretty hot too. Cool.’ I never wanted to turn into the voice of every anti-conservative out there. I’m not conservative myself, in fact, I am ultra liberal, mostly because I just don’t give a damn about anything or anyone, unless they mean a lot to me of course. In short, I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks. I appreciate good thoughts and encouraging emails, but if you’re on the criticism end, guess what? You matter squat.

If I get less hits because I took that picture off, so what. If I get less readership, big deal. Less publicity? Well… I started off with none anyway, and I was happy with it. No publicity is bad publicity, unless it starts affecting the people you care about. Then it’s not right. And I DO have a value system, and that is to go through life being as true to myself as I possibly can, while never hurting the people that matter to me. I try, oh I try.

This whole fiasco has been very embarrassing to the people I hold dear, and I cannot stand for it to carry on any longer. If the picture is what has caused all that unnecessary embarrassment, then that picture will be what has to be removed, and it has.

I will always be modeling nude as and when I want to of course, and I will still always be a Suicidegirl just because it fucking rocks. But that’s for a whole different society altogether and not this pretentious ‘conservative’ one, a situation that is completely apart from my private life here in Singapore.

I need time to chill out. I was fine before the whole media blowup happened, and I will be fine when it dies down. If I get extra offers to model and be in a couple of magazines and to write for some of them, or to do a gig, or whatever, that’s great.

But the baseline is this, I was never really into getting famous. I like it certainly, but it is not as important as the reason behind the fame, and if the reason is wrong, then it is pointless. I will suffocate if I didn’t have an audience for my art or writing or whatever, but the thing is, I already did before all this happened, and there will be many other opportunities in the future for me to find that audience. I don’t write about sex so much because I want the attention; I do it because it is a part of me. As it is a part of all of us.

I will write more on the plane, but about other things I supposed. Oddly enough, I was very glad to have talked to my dad before I left. Because I feel a great deal more relaxed now. And while he is really upset at what I have done, he’s managed to calm me down a great deal and made me realize that hey, there really are more important things then publicity and what the media wants you to stand for. My peace of mind is definitely one of those things.

We sat around on the couch for awhile talking about stuff, the bible mostly, and Russian roulette, and love and art. All of those things, and then some. And he prayed for me, and I felt better.

I feel better. SO much better.


Thursday, June 16, 2005

How to Live Life

Okay. My parents don’t like it. Well, it’s really more like this, My mom doesn’t care, but my dad doesn’t like it so she doesn’t like it. I hate the papers for writing about me so badly. For trying to find a scandal and dragging the mention of my parents into it. For making me nothing more then a ‘Naked Blogger’. Frankly, I don’t give a shit, but my parents do, and that kinda makes me need to give a shit. This was THE National Newspaper, and there is absolutely NO excuse that it should have produced such a clearly biased article. (Why didn't they quote Gabriel Seah in full? That should be revelation enough!)

My parents brought me up well, whatever the hell you think. They are contemporary, liberal and have certainly raised me up smart. I cannot see the point in this thing my mother continuously refers to as a ‘value system’ however. I do have a value system, and that is this, I will try to go through life hurting as few people as I possibly can while making a lot of money and having a lot of sex. (If you think hard about it, that’s really basically the recipe you need for a good life. A lot of money and a lot of sex. Jesus Christ had a pretty good life, and if he were all that remarkable, he would hardly have been poor. Talent and determination will always be rewarded with those two things.)

Actually, in my opinion, the reason for a good life is the freedom to do what you want to do. It is a very dangerous philosophy, but I generally like to believe that people would rather not hurt other people, if they knew they had a better choice. But really, freedom and independence are the most important things in life. I have met people that are dirt poor, with no family, who haven’t accomplished anything that can be measured by any existing social markers, traveling around with nothing more then a didgeridoo and are perfectly happy.

Anyway, my parents don’t want any recognizable nude pictures of myself in this ultra public place, so I have removed that photograph that caused the unnecessary stir. Whatever. If I stop getting publicity, no big friggin deal. I love the attention, but it’s come to the point where I am just god-damned irritated at being a caricature that’s nothing more than an extension of my breasts on the press.

What I cannot understand about my parents, and the rest of the world is this. Why is it that everyone is always trying to fucking fix everyone else? My value systems are different from theirs, but it is no less wrong or immoral. It’s just different. I don’t think twice of people who choose to lead conservative lifestyles, I don’t particularly think they are denying themselves anything, and that their value-systems are stupid. It’s just the way they are. If they find happiness in being conservative, that’s fine by me. I find excitement (and in most cases I love living frenetically) by living the way I do. By falling in love every other Tuesday, and thinking of ways to get where I want to go, by traveling, the list goes on.

Conservative people do not criticize people that are less conservative then them. It is the people that are trying to force themselves into a value system which doesn’t come naturally to them that criticize the ones that don’t punish themselves likewise.

Why is it more socially acceptable to say, ‘I think she’s living too recklessly’ over, ‘I think she’s living a life of absolute boredom’. Either way, both lifestyles are undesirable in the eyes of the other, yet all of society finds it easier to accept criticism of a an uncontrolled life as opposed to criticism of a boring one.

I am tired, frazzled, highly irritated, and very glad I will be leaving for NZ tomorrow. Hopefully when I’m back, things would have calmed down somewhat, and everyone that matters anything to me at all would have thought through things and attempted to understand what I am, instead of always looking at me as if I were living wrongly.

And I STILL don’t get the deal over the fuss with my naked body. Everyone has seen breasts before, everyone has seen porn online. If I had been wearing even a tear-drop bikini in that photo, it would have been allright. You know why? Because people in Singapore are weird. It’s all about the law and what in it that constitutes are being ‘covered up’ and what doesn’t.

For GOD’S SAKE, how can my naked butt possibly insult anyone? The only people I think it insults are the people that hate me because their opinion apparently doesn’t matter squat to me.

I am going to bed.

By the way, thank you for all the encouraging emails.


International Dateline

Last night was spent on the side of a mountain over-looking a lake. When I woke up in the morning, the sun was gloriously hot and the valley was filled with clouds such that I was looking down on them instead of up at them. It was about 7 in the morning, and all the Balinese people that worked about the place were already up minding their own business, but most of the other guest were still snoozing in their bed rooms. And I thought, Why Not.

The sun was shining so lovely on everything, and even if you aren’t into photography, any idiot would know that the sun at dawn is the best lighting you can get for an outdoor shot. And in line with my ‘around the world’ nudies (HK, San Francisco, Bangkok, Saigon so far, and now Bali) I woke up Megaman to take a photograph of me on lying on the balcony rail.

There were a few Balinese people looking on by the balcony to the right about 50 meters away and I felt a little apprehensive at first. But if I really wanted to do something crazy, then there was certainly no point in waiting for people to approve first, because chances are, they will take too long to deliberate about it. And since I know it is definitely not illegal to go around nude in Bali (some women still mind the rice topless in the fields), I thought, fuck it; took of all my clothes and laid myself down on the balcony rail (it was thick enough to do so).

I saw some of the people turning heads for about half a minute, before going back to watching their DIY program on TV (the majority of the Balinese population spend the majority of their time making stuff, which is certainly more constructive then minding other people’s business). It was great, we were left to shoot in peace for the next half hour, and the photos were good.

On the plane back, I asked him what he thought of me, sexually. And he told me quite simply that I was sexy in a cutesy kinda way. But the baseline was this, being pretty alone will not get you anywhere. And I frankly, I don’t think it’s because I’m a ravishing beauty and I have a ravishing hot body and that I am getting all the attention that I currently am.

There are a few reasons I suppose, one of it is just because Singapore is still an ultra conservative society. 2 hours away, you can see girls open tiger beer cans with their pussies.

Secondly, it’s because of the nature of the internet. There is a great deal of porn out there, but there isn’t a lot of nudity backed with a real genuine person behind the nakedness. That’s why Suicidegirls works. Men come online to look for girl-next-door porn. FHM has a girl-next-door competition, not a super-hot-babe-you-wanna-fuck competition.

And thirdly… I’d just like to attribute it to the fact that I’m mostly not just another exhibitionist, or just another slut, or just another whore, because while I am certainly all of those things, and most girls are (most are into soft prostitution anyway. If you generally expect the guy to pay, you’ve got the mindset of a whore) that I’ve actually got something to say about it and have so far placed my thoughts as articulately as I possibly can. And people have been glad to hear someone say it.

The truth is, sometimes I have this weird feeling I’m a pawn in my Big Brother’s game to start the process of liberalizing social mores. A pawn to get people to start talking, you know. And that’s fine, as long as I’m not slandered, and as long as it makes things change.

Because that was kinda what I always wanted anyway.


Good Morning

Good Morning to all of you moralistic pricks who thrive on scandal. (I am sure I’m not the only one that sees the irony in that greeting). I am about to get a heart-attack from too much excitement, but as always, better some action then none.

Let me define my purpose in life once more, those that have been reading for a long time already know what it is, but I shall do it again. I am not looking for 15 minutes of fame and am not looking for scandal. When I started Sarong Party Girl, I did it mostly as a joke. A joke at the other SPGs out there who didn’t want to admit it to themselves, and also a joke that was directed at myself. Because I thought I was weird, chasing white guys. For awhile, it was a rather amusing activity, because they didn’t really seem like people at first. Simply because I was 17 when I started, and I had nearly zilch exposure to white men.

It’s just like the first time your all girl’s school holds a dance with the neighboring boy’s school. Boys weren’t unique individuals so much as they were Boys. Strange, Novel, Exciting, you get the idea.

But more importantly, I did it (initially) as a project to help myself, and the other people that somehow vaguely identify themselves with me to come to terms with this awkward reality. Hey girl, see, this is what YOU want and there’s nothing embarrassing about it. You just want something that much of the rest of society has either never thought about, is for too shy on insecure (colonial mentality or perhaps just plain being unused to getting placed in a dating situation they have never been in before) to realize what they want, or simply are not interested.

SPG-ism is a prevalent social phenomena, and there’s no reason whatsoever for us to deny it, or to only accept it from the pen of an errant cartoonist and the crude imagination of a pot-bellied white guy. I got simply got sick and tired of people making fun of girls that dated white men. We are all People who are trying to find ourselves in life, and no one has the right to make fun of anyone else. Unless they make fun of you first of course.

But I digress. My purpose in life is to create things that people will enjoy and can identify with. It’s as simple as that. Writing, Painting… the whole process of Creating is my passion. But on top of that I am also naturally a public person, more simply put, an exhibitionist. There’s nothing negative in that term. All actresses, rock-stars, presidents, celebrity economist are exhibitionist. They like to be recognized. And being recognized is important to me, but I don’t and never wanted to be recognized as the Singaporean girl that put her naked tit on the web. What’s so fantastic about that? For heaven’s sake, I love stripping, but I’m better at a whole lot of other things that actually take a significant amount of time to develop into something constructive. I would like to be recognized for those things.

Unfortunately, all that the local papers can gripe about all damn day is how I put a naked boob on the web. One more naked boob among, say a gazillion other naked boobs. Along with all the slutty housewife boobs, to artificially enlarged boobs, to Lolita titties to oh… Cow udders.

Frankly, I have no complains. If you want to give me publicity, I’ll take it. My mail box is exploding, and I love it. Interviews? Bring them on. Do you have a glossy men’s magazine? Oh darling, publish an article by me and I will give you a photoset. You know why? Because I know it will get me where I want to go. And if it doesn’t, what do I care. I still have other talents I can use to survive.

But there is one thing though that PISSES ME OFF. It is this. Don’t ANYONE dare include anyone else in my life into this mess you have made. I operate alone. Whether I want to or not, I will always be involved in the sex business for the larger part of my life one way or the other. But it is not what my parents have chosen for me, neither is it something I would like to include my siblings in, if they would rather not be included.

The SHITHEADS that have insulted my parents, listen up. Have you seen another girl’s breasts aside from your wife’s? Have you seen a Tiger show along the streets of Pat pong or Pattaya? Have you had fantasies of anyone other then your wife (i.e. you imagined ANOTHER woman naked and imagined coming over the face and her tits and slapping her cheeks with you filthy cock) You probably have. If you say no, you are now not only a moral bigot, but also a bloody liar and a serial sinner.

Good news, God will forgive you.

Bad news, you will be miserable in your own denial.

But really, it’s none of my business.

My mother knows about it all of course, and she was a lot more accepting of it then I thought she would be. She’s a smart, contempory woman, thank God. Of course she doesn’t agree with it, but hey, I’m 19, and I’m not only old enough to know what I’m doing with my life, but I’m also brutally honest with myself and know what’s a sensible course of action and what isn’t.

The whole time in Bali, I was worried about one thing, and it was this: What would my parents think? Now that I know whatever happens, they’ll still be there for me, I’m not the least bit troubled. Of course I worry for their privacy, and the privacy of the life I have that is not part of this sudden pointless hoo-ha, and I will appreciate it if no one attempts to cross that boundary.

You see, if people actually bothered to read what I am about, then there is nothing to be ashamed of. I’m really just a girl that doesn’t see any damn big deal in nudity, thought it was nice, and posted it. When I posted THAT picture, all I expected was a few, ‘ooh, sexy’ emails. Oh well.

I am very tired, very confused, and very frazzled. I wish people would be more considerate, but that’s just not the way people are. Most people are unfortunately fucked up like that.

I was hanging out with some friends some time back, and one of them suddenly just threw his hands up in the air after receiving an sms message and went, ‘why is it SO difficult to get people to work hard!’

There you have it. People don’t like to work hard, but like to bother everyone else about nothing of any significance whatsoever.

And one last thing. The people that think I put the photograph for attention: When the Straits Times wanted to publish that first article, I said I would really rather not. But they said it was going to press, whether I liked it or not. So stop bloody thinking I crafted all of this.


Tuesday, June 14, 2005


1) Don't worry about the fact that you aren't seeing my header and all of that. There's nothing wrong with your connection, I've just exceeded my bandwidth. That will be fixed when I get back to Singapore.

2) I like being in the news. You can be sure that I will have a gallery exibit for my photographs (and that of my girlfriends too) in slightly over a month. I better call Dee before she leaves the friggin country :(

3) It's time for Breakfast now and Megaman is going to kill me if I'm late and we miss the great morning lighting for some goddamn good pictures.

4) Thank you for all the nice emails :)


Monday, June 13, 2005

Chill Pill

I am away in paradise at the moment and am very glad for it. While all of you are minding my business anf trying to cause me unnecessary hassle, scandal, and a racing heartbeat because I simply don't know what the hell happen or what the hell is going on. But at this moment I am tucked away in a villa on a hill, over looking a flowing stream and a valley filled with ashen trunked trees and smelling of frangipani.

Frankly, thanks for all the publicity. As for the criticism, what do I care. My confidence and self-satisfaction does not depend on anyone's opinion or judgement of me. Why should it, when all the people that criticize me are dumbasses anyway. Whoever you are, you are too narrowminded, thoughtless and irrational for me to believe your assestments of the person that is me should have any creditability atall for me to give a shit about what you think.

As I was walking through all the art gallaries and sculpture workshops in Bali today, it suddenly dawned upon me that South East Asian culture, or for that matter, the cultures of most southern countries have always seen nudity and polygama as a very natural thing. Think about it; the tribes in the Amazon, those of the Maori, the Iban in Borneo. Look at the art dating back to as recent as before the second world war. Are the women mostly naked, or at least topless in them? Does no the alpha male take several wives or lovers? And the amazing thing is that it is NOT degrading for women in those cultures then, simply because women were revered as goddesses, and their body sacred vessels. Look at the way they depict the female body in their art! There is nothing degrading about that. They are mostly naked, and they are mostly beautiful.
I don't have much time, so/but go read The DaVinci code or Eve's Seed.

It was only much more recent where the mindsets and morality for th more so called 'developed' cultures came in and imposed their own silly moral standards upon these people. (A Balinese boy referred to women covering their breasts as 'modern dress'). And then now it is us that are going back to these places as tourist and taking off our tops on the beach and selling them our movies about 'decadent' living. WHEN ALL ALONG, THEY HAVE ALREADY BEEN LIKE THAT. And then there are some of us for these so called developed countries that tell their students that Western Influence is 'morally corrupting'. Clearly we just like to cause unnecessary for ourselves. Because some of the idiots out there have nothing better to do then come up woth all these moral standards so that they can hassle other people with it.

(If you are studying human geography and tourism in a singaporean school, you now know how dumb your teachers are when they say that the western world has brought decadent values to these places. Like topless sunbathing. Please Laugh.)

I have been modelling in the nude for a long time now, and that is all the modelling I am ever interested in doing. I simply do not see the virtue in hiding my body. It is a beautiful piece of creation (and so is yours, if you take care of it. All God's creation is beautiful) and it is a medium through which I can use to express myself and the person that is me. But it is also something that makes me what I am. Whether we like it anot, we are influenced by how we look and what we do with our bodies. The physical is inxtricably liked with the mental and the cerebral.

When I look at the photo that has caused so much unnecessary (but all the same welcoming) publicity. I do not see a nipple. Because that is what I think has caused much of the sudden attention. Previously I have posted pictures in the nude, only I had covered all the ultra-sexy bits. This time, I didn't. And BINGO.

It was not my writing, not the fact I try send out the message to everyone out there reading me the message of 'hey, just BE yourself'. Not that some people actually find solace in reading what I write (and believe me it take a whole lot of effort and though), or that they feel inspired, or that they are just plain entertained.

It is not the fact that my photogrphs are beautiful, that these photographers are really talented people and that I put in a hell lot of effort into keeping in shape, looking good and always being creative to make something people will enjoy.

It is not the fact that light and shadow, the colours black and white can provide endless possibilities for the creation of something aesthetically pleasing.Or that there is something of virtue to be found in a girl living in the day and age of physical insecurity to actually love the way she looks.

That photograph is of me taking a moment to appreciate myself, and telling everyone else that they should do that too. (To both appreciate themselves, and me of course :P )

But the newspaper articles.. what were they about?

They were about a nipple.

Give me a fucking break. Who has not seen nipple? Who in Singapore has not sucked a nipple in their life?

I KNOW nipples. To the jerk that insulted my parents, my mother sure raised me well, buster. From the time she suckled me, she sure as hell did.

Singapore will NEVER becoming artiscally vibrant unless we really lighten up. Why is it allright to see naked picutures on the blogs of girls from the US, some of which are assuredly more highly eroticized then mine, but scandalous to have it come from a Singaporean girl? The last time I checked, we have all the same bits.

I will write more when I get back, but here are some thoughts for all of you in the mean time.

Kisses to the people that have been reading me regularly, and have sent me all those emails of encouragement. And to Gabriel Seah, who's COMPLETE statement to The Straits Times (that deceitful paper) is this, "'The Internet is a free society, there is no reason why anyone should not do this, because it doesn't hurt anyone. *A lot of things that used to be considered bad are now acceptable, so maybe we shouldn't be so quick to judge and condemn.*


Saturday, June 11, 2005

My PC has died

I'll be out of the country on a tropical beach resort until It's time for me to head down to NZ. Check in later.

If you're wondering why I'm on Domestic news, I don't know either. People are crazy. I was only aware of the fact that I was going to be on it yesterday evening, and whether I liked it or not, the story was going to be published. Although frankly, it says nothing, means nothing, doesn't prove anything, and is just kinda lame.

And I wish Gabriel Seah said something more significant (but anyway, I'll just say 'thanks' for saying something that wasn't not nice). But at the end of the day, it's only a 6 by 4 in article, and I hope no one I know reads it. How embarassing.


Friday, June 10, 2005

You Couldn't Have Guessed

I’m laughing to myself now because I’m so happy. Because I cannot believe what I have just done and what I will do (frankly, I don’t know what the latter is either). But I am going to NZ to visit the G-Spot, so there.

Sometimes I think I’m definitely off my rocker. One moment, I’m moping about Martine and fussing about Chris, then I go ‘oh screw this shit’ and I decide to take time off in NZ. It is funny how things like that just happen to you. The G-Spot had texted me over Skype; and it was noteworthy in a way, because we don’t contact each other all that often (He calls me more often then I manage to be available to pick up) Something like once every three weeks would be just about right. The connection over Skype’s normally shit so we kinda stuck to chatting on screen this time.

He had been watching Before Sunrise then and was feeling mildly philosophical, slightly melancholic, and asking questions like did I think people were fundamentally satisfied with their lives. I told him I did miss him, and he said he did too. And I’ve no idea what he said, but I eventually told him how I’ve felt about him since we’d met (or had sex, whichever). I said I’d never told him before because it was kinda embarrassing and silly and would turn me into an air-headed romantic who has nothing better to do with her brain space. But last night I did because I knew he certainly thought about things like that too. I suppose everyone does. Some people just want to hide it, and hide it better. Sentimentality should after all, be confined to the movies.

I told him how I’d wondered like a several dozen times how it would have been like had I not been dating Mr. Big then. Because Mr. Big and I never really amounted up to anything. Comfortable friends, certainly, but on my part, I never felt any more. And if he did, he never showed it. To cut a long story short, I had met the G-Spot in a Latin dance club. He was really sexy and danced really well and I couldn’t help but pick him up. Actually, he was the one that chatted me up first. He’d
normally turned up with this other girl, but then one time, he didn’t. And he’d picked me up. He gave me his number, and about a fortnight later, after dancing and with nothing else to do, I’d asked him if he’d like to go for drink. He said sure, and we went to the Velvet Underground and got really smashed. I did anyway. And I was so horny and he looked so sexy. And we went back to his place and had really good sex while he whispered how good I felt all the while till we came.

He left the country that week though, and for some strange reason, Mr. Big had never left my thoughts ever since I shagged him half a year back from then (I’ve known him for 2 years now. Can you friggin believe it) and I had to call him up. He’d just broken up with his girl then, and was pretty open to another mate. So we hit of, right-o. Then when the G-Spot came back, and I slept with him again, I told him I was seeing someone else. So subsequently with that, he still saw me sporadically, but acquired a girlfriend for himself in the meantime. Which was bad news for me. But fair’s fair.

‘Remember the time you asked me to watch Closer?’
“I did. And after that, I went down to Emerald Hill. Just kinda because that was where I nearly always met you for drinks. I went there alone after watching Closer, just to feel nostalgic. And to kinda do what we had justice. you know.’

We talked a little more about life and sentimentality and things like that before he said he had to go to bed and I said good night. It was all rather sad, really. Then oddly enough, a few minutes later, the phone rang and he was on the line. He said he’d wanted to hear my voice.


‘So you were really about to come down to Singapore next week, but couldn’t because you’ve got an important project next week?’
‘Yeah. Tesha (his girlfriend in Singapore) was pissed off when I told her I really couldn’t make it. The film’s consists of a series of tableaus set in a bar, concerning the interactions of a few people there, and I’ll be writing one of the exchanges between two random people.’
‘Sounds interesting. When does filming start?’
‘Late the weekend after next.’
‘And how long is your holiday?’ I ask.
‘Two weeks.’
‘Till the end of this month? Lovely. How about I come down and visit, and you write me a part in exchange. I don’t have a lot of money, but if you can feed me and make sure I’ve got shelter…’
‘Whoa! You’re crazy. But sure! Sure I can feed you and drive you around, and you can bunk over at my place while we’re at it. But I have to tell you, I only have a single bed, and it’s just about Winter now so temperatures hit a low of about 7 on average at night.’
‘More time to spend in the sack. But you only have a single bed? Can’t you go find a super soft rug or something and we can sleep on it?’
‘The bed’s fine. We’ll need each other’s warmth, trust me. We can live out of the car and yeah, don’t worry about it.’
‘Okay, I trust you. I can’t believe it! I’m gonna book the tickets now!’

And so there you have it. I’m going to visit the G-Spot, at long last. I’m sure we’ll have a blast.

I want to take nude pictures by a lake and help make a cool film.



Thursday, June 09, 2005

Guess What!

The G-Spot called me today, and I shall be flying down to NZ to be written into a script he promises he'll write for me.

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! I'm going to see the G-Spot. Oh my God. I'll write more when I've calmed down. Maybe it's just my imagination and my fancy for romantism, but while I never felt so intensely passionate about him as I did Martine, there was something there that meant alot.

I'll write more later.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I'm going to get tripppppy! :D


So The Melancholic Saga Continues...

I had a lot of things to say, and I probably still do. Only I can’t think of much else aside from shagging Martine, throwing stuff out of my room and designing fetish outfits.

I emailed him a couple of photos from my newest set, and he’s finally sent me an email that was a little more affectionate then the hey-how-you-doin’ sort. And it even came with one of his essays (well, I demanded a trade).

Frankly, I don’t know anything any-more. Not that it would make much of a difference if I did anyway. I’ve chased him long enough; he’s done me that justice, maybe if he wants me again, I should return the favour (I’m not saying this sarcastically. I really believe I’m glad for the fact that I had to try so hard for a few hours of his time). Then again, it could all be nothing more then wishful thinking. But wasn’t it wishful thinking when 7 months ago I thought ‘wouldn’t it be so lovely if I met him again’, and I did. I didn’t know then he’d want me back –because of certain business complications that I would unwittingly play a part of- but you know what. He did.

A-lot of my friends tell me he’s just using me. You know. For sex. But I really don’t think so. He could still sleep with me if he wanted, and he knows that because I told him so sometime back. But somehow sex makes things more difficult. If you don’t particularly give a damn for the person, then it’s no problem, but with the sort of emotions that are involved on my part…, no strings attached sex is just impossible.

No strings attached sex is pointless by the way. It can be fun sometimes, but if you have better things to do, it’s one of society’s most pointless evolutions. It doesn’t even serve the biological function for procreation. I am not suggesting that sex without love is pointless; sex with someone that you know cares is worthwhile, I still haven’t deviated from that belief.

I know Martine cares, in some incomprehensible manner. If Liz would just die, things would be so much easier. Mostly for him, but I would be so happy too. Then again, don’t we all just love coming up with hypothetical situations and their outcomes without really knowing ourselves and how we would really feel.

I thought everything would fall into place when Ethan came back. But things didn’t, and it didn’t work out as well as I had hoped. (I’m still going to visit him this September nonetheless, we’re still on very good terms).

While lying in bed with Greg a few nights back (with my panties on. I told him with a fair amount of irritation that they were staying on when he tried to get them off) I asked him about the person he’d loved most in his entire life. The woman he believed he would be perfectly satisfied with. Her name’s Shauna, and they had a few good years together, but she had to leave because he’d been married then. (She insisted). He got divorced anyway, because his wife was a psychopath that tried to kill him with a kitchen knife; by then it was already a little too late, Shauna had married someone else. So he’d settled for someone else, someone he feels all right with, I suppose. Because most people don’t like dying without having that significant someone beside them, because most people don’t like growing old without the security that there was someone growing old with them. (It’s just like how you feel better at the clinic when you’re there to check for STDs and there’s another person that’s kinda just like you looking as nervous in the next seat).

But it’s all very depressing. I’m not even going to presume Martine could be what Shauna was to Greg, but he’s definitely significant. And I would be very sorry indeed if a few years from now, he wasn’t happy with whatever he’d done. You think people should be able to exercise better judgment over their lives. But the funny thing is, they normally don’t. Life is very much a daily thing as it is a something that spans over the greater part of a century. And one day never really seems to matter a lot to any of us, so we just do whatever we have to, just because that day, we just… had to. And before we know it, the greater part of our lives have past, and we wish this and that, but it’s too late.

And I would be very sorry indeed if that happened to anyone I ever cared for.


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By the way, you can stop emailing me about sending my pictures, offering me your time to cyber, or giving me a listening eye over email for my sexual experience. I'm not interested in you. Whoever you are. In fact, don't bother emailing me unless you have something nice or insightful to say. Insulting does not equate insightful.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Martine, Martine, @#$%

I bumped into Martine at the bookstore today. Believe it or not. He's sexier then ever, but mostly because i haven't seen him for awhile, he's been working out, and was walking around with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show all of his collarbones. Which is kinda sexy. Kinda is kinda an understatement though.

Oddly enough I was wearing the royal colour of his nation of birth. When I bumped into him, he was babbling in some foreign language over his cell that I certainly didn't understand, which almost certainly made him even sexier. It's not French, but you know, much of the lingua franca of the EU kinda sounds like French to me anyway; so... sexy enough.

When he said good bye, he opened his arms like so wide to give me a big, tight hug that made me feel like he really wanted to give me a big tight hug. And it was a nice long one too. I suppose he still kinda likes me, and I certainly still like him... but hey. We live.

Oh it's silly isn't it, when one hug should mean so, so, much. I met him 4 hours ago, but I must have thought about it at least once every quater of an hour, and read more into it then I should have. But what's a love lorn girl to do?

I miss being in love. Being really, really in love. Everything these days is so rewarding (career/art-ish wise), yet so bland at the same time. Am I over him? Certainly not. I may be over him as a person, but I'm definitely not over the way I felt for him. Because it felt so good. :(

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but yes it is true that in any relationship the person that likes the other person less is in the position of power. But that doesn't mean I've lost anything by being in love with M... because the person that's not in the position of power is simply more in love. And while love is intangible and never something that can be defined, it is still there and undeniable. And that feeling is worth all my power and a huge chunck of my dignity. Although it goes without saying that I wouldn't ever love a guy that would make me feel undignified in anyway. (But sadly according to the rest of the world, desperate love is always so undignified.)

At least I have a decent body.. and here's the proof. Bitch *grin*

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Whatever Makes Sense

I know this is kinda raw and real and filled with mediocre english and what the hell ever. But I'm so busy at the moment, and just really pissed off with the way guys look at me.

It's so easy for them to date me man, shit. They all say the same thing. She's pretty, but I love her for her brains. It's what's in between her head (and secretly they go, her legs) that really counts. So easy right. The world can't judge them for being into a Lolita wannabe because she's smart. Then they look at me and go, wah, surely into the guy for the money. Mostly because he's older, and white.

Because this is still a shit world for women. 40%-60% asset divisions on divorce doesn't do justice for the crap we had and still have to go through. The stupid stigmas we're forced to grown up with. And Pamela Anderson is a sex symbol because she just want to have sex, and because of that we call her a slut. Let's face it, we love sluts, we love good gossip, and we love anything to do with sex.

And I've never met a guy that didn't want to get into my pants.

Then again, I've never met a guy that didn't want to get into the pants of a 41kilo biathalon aspirant with a decent face.

And ironically, if I did meet a guy that didn't want it get into my pants, and if he isn't gay, I'd make it so that he did. Because it's just fun to be a cock tease, and if you know you're not going to get into trouble, why not.

Then of course I have to get irritated and whine about guys always trying to get into my pants. Because it is fucking annoying to go out with someone and on every date, he's hinting sex, sex and more sex. And the moment you're like, 'sorry, I'm really trying to be good.' You can just plain forget about getting a call. Not that I really care.

Of course there are nice guys out there who want to screw me but don't try too hard and still take me out just because we have fun together. But oh I so know the prospect of wanting to screw is part of the motivation. If it's not now, it's later. And the prospect of sex is a very strong motivational factor for them to keep trying. And it's really allright as long as I'm having fun with my sexuality, but it gets annoying when ever date turned into an event to get me laid. And even if we have slept together, every date has to equate sex. God, is there anything more annoying.

Of course it's also my fault. I'm perfectly aware that all human beings are essentially lonely bastards, and that a hell lot of people out there are looking for connection and comfort through sex, and maybe that's really all they want. And if I were to fall in love with them, it wouldn't be a problem then, but I usually don't.

In a way, I'm glad I'm an acceptably attractive female (look, I'm not going to even dare claim I'm a gorgeous or anything. But let's face it, I'm pleasant looking enough whether anyone likes it or not) and an acceptably attractive female that's experimental, bi-sexual, into bondage, SM and nudie parites. (Orgies... I'm not too sure. Mostly because STDs freak me out). I don't see a point in hiding the fact that I am, but I don't like it either when guys think they can use me as a ticket for their experiments.

In short, I hate any guy that thinks he has the right to presume that just because I'm slutty with all the men I find attractive (looks, money, smarts, whatever...), I should naturally want to get my freak on with him. And if I don't, I'm a cock tease.

Screw that.

All that probably doesn't potray me as a stable minded female, but hey, that's kinda how I feel. You know.

And by the way, if you think a big cock and being good in bed is good enough to get any woman to lay you, you're stuck on a planet furthur then the one Axl Rose camped on while working on Chinese Democracy.


Monday, June 06, 2005


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Sunday, June 05, 2005


‘Pundits are always blaming TV for making people stupid, movies for desentizing the world to violence, and rock music for making kids take drugs and kill themselves. These things should be the least of our worries. The main problem with mass media is that it makes it impossible to fall in love with any acumen of normalcy.' – Chuck Klosterman, Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs.Read that book, it’s too good, too funny, and just too truthful. Chuck’s telling you what you’ve already known all along, but were just too blind/idiotic/lazy/dishonest to admit.

It’s the Great Singapore Sale now, isn’t it. The one event of the year that gets everyone out of their homes till midnight buying shit they will never use, much less even really want like the materialistic mofos they are. With slogans like, ‘shopping is a girl’s best friend’ how the hell can a girl resist. There’s something seriously wrong with this society and the diagnosis is that we just consume way too much.

I saw an ad for VISA card at the airport promoting some discount on interest rates; something or other of the like. ‘Pay less, Eat more’. Good. Lord. No wonder the entire world save certain malnutrition-ed counties in Africais heading towards an obesity pandemic. I can understand if that were an ad to raise awareness for a new breed of rice that’s cheaper and more resilient for subsistence farmers in Bangladesh; those people need to eat more, we don’t. Who are the idiots that do these ads anyway? Shouldn’t it be ‘Pay Less, Eat Better’. Duh.

‘People enjoy the experience of buying more the product, because the moment of buying is one of enthusiastic fantasy and escape. The environmental crisis is really a crisis of desire’ I got that out of Adbusters. I’m not a fan or even a follower of the mag, it’s mad left-wing anti-immigrant, anti-capitalist, but occasionally, it has worthwhile things to say.


‘Buying things makes people happy because it takes their mind off being alive. I would think this would actually make them feel worse, but every woman I’ve ever dated seems to disagree.’ – Klosterman, Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs.

It is a sad state of affairs. I like spending money, and I can certainly understand how buying things you really want can make a person happy. I love glossy paged coffee-table books, over-priced coffee, pretty dresses and cute shoes. But just like how I don’t believe I should eat more then I need to at a buffet, I don’t believe people should buy more just because it’s the great sale of the year. And I definitely cannot understand people that go to another place in the world for the sole purpose of shopping. In fact, shopping has got to be one of the most brainless, wasteful pastimes in the world. Not only are you not creating, or thinking very much or making decisions of any significance whatsoever (not to say most decisions of a single individual have any significance at all in the greater scheme of the cosmos...) But you’re consuming more then you actually really want and upsetting the ecosystem. I bet this world was made just so everyone could have what we wanted to live comfortably, but we’re greedy fuckers and now we worry about things like Global warming and Obesity without actually doing anything at all about it.

And we carry on consuming.


Saturday, June 04, 2005

Fustrated Fustration

If anyone asks me where’s the best place to shop, I’ll tell them it’s Vietnam. Because you can get everything custom made there for nearly nothing, and it’s good work too. Saigon is just too much fun, and I absolutely love it. The day before last, we went to the Chinatown area (Cholon), and I was absolutely bowled over by the amount of activity going on. Everyone was busting their asses working and making something, from clothing to bricks to electrical parts. And it had been lunch time, so the entire area had been out on the streets eating (Literally, on little pull out plastic stools and tables, the sort of size they normally have when you were back in Kindergarten). People watching is just about the most entertaining thing in Saigon (nearly on par with fantastic French meals for under thirty bucks in quaint little street-side cafes). The people there have their busy meters turned on high, and in all honesty, unless they were agent orange victims, you don’t see very many beggars on the street. For a place like Vietnam where the average income is (I think) $800 per annum in the city, it has very few beggars. Everyone at least tries to sell you something. I’m personally still more partial to Hanoi for a holiday (I love tripping over all the people selling food on the street. Their all about thigh level, sitting on stools that are no higher then a foot, with their equipment and produce hanging on either side of a bamboo rod) but if you’re scouting around for business ops, Saigon is it.

Enough of that.

I came back about early evening last night and went over to Greg’s place for a drink. We’re allright now I suppose, but it’s been a month, and things are a little awkward. It will take some time for me to get used to him again, I suppose. The thing is… I don’t really want to try to make things work. I never did. I like hanging out with him when I’m free, and that’s that.

After much thought, I have decided I suffer from some kinda sexual frustration. It’s not like I’m not getting enough (duh) or that I’m getting more then I bargain for. It’s just that the sexual relationships are bloody never the way I’d like them to be. Exactly. But I suppose that’s no different then saying I’m romantically frustrated because I’m not consumed by the sort of love I want.

I should write a book titled ‘We Will All Die Unsatisfied’.

Why is the orgasm such a big friggin deal to guys (both yours and his). (And if His), why do some of them take forever to come. And why do condoms make some dicks go limp. And why do they always like to eat pussy and fiddle with her until she’s bloody irritated.

In the most recent season of SATC, after Miranda got married and went on a honeymoon with her hubby (can’t remember his name), there was a scene of her in the forest calling Carrie on the last two bars of her mobile phone, asking her desperately for some semblance of intelligent conversation. Essentially, Miranda was going bonkers trapped in the middle of a nature reserve with a crazy guy that tried to fuck her all the darned time. And there was no time for anything else but sex, not like there was much else to do. But I have and that feeling before, more times then I would like to remember, and it is one of the most claustrophobic feelings in the whole wide world.

You can tell them all that, and they will say they understand, and promise not to force it, but it’s all bullshit. The next time you say you’re not in the mood, they get upset, disappointed and ‘what’s wrong, don’t you like it? What am I doing wrong, oh lets try something else, I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself…’ And before you know it, their face is buried between your legs.

Well, you’re not doing anything wrong, aside from the fact that too much, is wrong.