My God. Creatively, Singapore really is shit.
My classmates have been asking me to tell them something about my trip down to London, and that really does seem to end up the predominant, recurring sentiment I seem to make out loud. But then again, that's the same sentiment I have about the country every time someone asks me, 'so how was your trip' whenever I'm back from any city. With perhaps the exception of KL and most other Malaysian cities. Kuching isn't so bad, but that's only because they still have some bits where the native crafts haven't have disappeared under the glare of heretical Islam or suburban orthodox Christianity.
Richard was very kind and he booked a lovely apartment (a little bit more flash then I would have expected of him… but then again I'm constantly surprised at his spending habits. I don't think I've ever met anyone that really lived on a month-to-month basis. Well, I have, only they never spent any of it on me. They would think twice about lending me a couple of hundred bucks if I needed and abortion. Chris was an exception of course, but then again, he was exceptionally rich).
Every person trying to make Singapore better creatively should be forced to live in London for a couple of years, and be made to stay near Brick Lane. Now that is an amazing little street. It's just been left up to people to fix up, and you get places like café 1001 (http://www.cafe1001.co.uk) where you can openly smoke a joint; something that R and I didn't do but did smell, and dance like a whacko on E (all of the people there were probably on E and therefore whackos). The DJ in that place (DJ Shuttle that night I think, played some weird set titled Guerrilla Lime and Soda version 3.0) made me not only love house music for that night, but also got me to dance to it. I didn't need any E, the music was that good okay, and I am just that uninhibited.
I was reading Milan Kundera's Slowness and came across a paragraph about nudity and irreverence: This is the first time she has undressed before him with such absence of modesty, with such pointed disregard. This undressing signifies: your presence before me has no, absolutely no, importance… I could vomit in front of you … masturbate, piss… My proud disregard s a cloak that lets me move about before you with complete freedom and complete immodesty. This is not to say that me pissing on Richard's floor, in front of both him and Lynn would mean that their presence has no importance to me. On the contrary, pissing on the floor is a rather messy spectacle and if you plan to clean it up, you wouldn't do so in the first place, unless there was someone else to amuse with it. But you get Kundera's point. Nudity is a common word shared by all the revolutionaries of every era because it is about irreverence and about not giving a flying fuck about society. And Singapore is so arsed about it because the powers that be NEED you to give a shit. Because control would be impossible otherwise.
Otherwise you might end up having shops like Close-Up, this place that rented out films that could actually change your life for the price of a big Mac, which wouldn't change your life, unless you're a gluttonous fat-ass.
Oh I suppose there'll be some dude out in London or NY or one of those places reading this and laughing. Poor things they are in Singapore; well indeed! We are poor that way, terribly poor. I want change now, damn it.
For example, you wouldn't be able to stand outside the Istana in a leather dress that didn't do much to hide your pussy and have your photo taken with a medium format camera (meaning, you really have to set your gear up), while you masturbated. You could, for example, do that in front of Buckingham palace and not a single soul would look at you. It was the one most fascinating experience.
It's only been 6 weeks, but I've never been happier. Aside from the occasional pangs of annoyance I suffer when I look about the apartment and think, 'My God those sheets are so astro-glided and spermy they must be changed'. It's not very good I suppose, we've been too caught up with each other, and I haven't really been keeping in touch with most of my friends. But then again I don't think I'm really seeing any less of the people that matter, like the Princess… and well, there was really just her I guess. I'm not in contact with most of the guys I used to schtup, with the exception of Elan. The dear boy was recently tricked by a cunt attempting to trap him -god knows what he meant by 'trap'- by saying she was pregnant. I cannot help but really feel like tying her up onto the scaffolding Richard says he'll make me, and whipping her silly. Although I will still stand by the fact that it was partly his fault because I had to demand he used a condom every time we attempted to schtup.
It's funny how when you fall in love again, and you fall out of love with everyone else, it suddenly occurs to you how pathetic most of them were. The only one that I cannot say anything against is Ethan, because he really was very smart and sensible and easy to be with, and treated me the way I expected to be treated. But more importantly, his goal in life was not to get laid, as it would seem with so many of the other men my path has crossed. I suppose I cannot say anything against them; maybe they haven't found the right girl to inspire a sort of want to make anything work, but it just seems rather lame when you tell a girl to fuck off because you can't imagine yourself never screwing another chick. But maybe you just didn't love her enough. I didn't see the need for fidelity anyway, but that was because I was playing their game… and most of them sucked in bed.
I don't know, monogamy isn't important to me, but if being otherwise would hurt someone I really love, then it is a state I would easily take up.
Fucking many people isn't interesting anyway. It's just a different dick, a different cunt, a different body. You'll never get to experience a connection beyond that few moments, that few dates you had before shagging. If you close your eyes, it's all kinda the same, what makes it different is what goes on in your mind.
You know, like being kidnapped and turned into a biological fuck machine with your hands and feet tied by the bedposts. Blindfolded and you don't know who's fucking you (but you do) and your nothing but your cunt. And it could be anyone, any john and his filthy fick sticking it to you.
Yeah.
xoxox
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