tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67608872012-01-24T22:27:05.731+08:00Going to Hell in Disneyland with the Death Penalty.Isabellanoreply@blogger.comBlogger6491100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-36573995608395450052011-10-28T23:28:00.000+08:002011-10-28T23:28:11.460+08:00

I got an email today from someone that said he'd read my blog from start to finish and encouraged me to update a little. So here goes: Dani and I are still together and well. From my point of view, the relationship got better with time, which is a good thing in my book. There are still plenty of cultural differences (his extroverted southern European/ Mediterranean background vs my introverted

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-15699956883673298342011-04-21T22:22:00.000+08:002011-04-21T22:22:55.693+08:00

It started when Dani got me to play Dragon Age, and it got worse after Michael re-promoted his book on Facebook. Don't under estimate FB promotion when it comes to selling e-books. I'd always wanted to read Mike's book, only Phil kept on mentioning it after several bottles of wine, so I never got 'round to it. With a Kindle link on FB, immediately purcahsed it. I thought it was very good, and

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-40741514353952669812011-04-06T04:49:00.000+08:002011-04-06T04:49:31.024+08:00

So every once in awhile I feel this great desire to blog. Like now. I've been spending quite a lot of time doing nerdy things, which is something I've always loved. Nothing like holing up with an awesome fantasy novel or playing RPGs late into the night. I used to do quite a bit of that as a kid, always loved SF. Then I turned 17, and I decided to be all grown up and only read serious books (or

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-68565456839775699132011-01-21T01:33:00.000+08:002011-01-21T01:33:12.797+08:00

I'm back in Holland. Lovely weather. No seriously. Sunny and cool. The air feels cleaner already. Dani threw a whiskey tasting thing last night, which was lovely. An eclectic collection of guests showed up, and there was plenty of swapping of war stories admits the indulgence. Like M, for example, who was caught at the border while trying to escape Iraq a total of 11 times. You know all those

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-74467427698222674582011-01-05T04:10:00.000+08:002011-01-05T04:10:39.344+08:00

Okay geez. Who fucking reads this anymore, but I guess I should update it regularly anyway to keep my friends feeling like they still wub me. Or something. Whatever. Back in Sing, met up with the lot. Phil, MGM, my crazy ass sister who is even crazier than ever. They're all still as lovely as ever. But of course, how else would it be. The D&D real life RPG group is still happening (it's just an

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-55197549793055017332010-10-13T05:24:00.000+08:002010-10-13T05:24:53.060+08:00

Ok, so here's the dilemma. We've been invited to a party night in Amsterdam by a French model and his transexual girlfriend. I don't know if we'll go. Will decide on Thursday I guess. Will do post on Amsterdam red lite district tomorrow. With photos. We went to A'dam on a project (of Dani's) to shoot portraits of some of the working girls... you have no idea how difficult it was to get them to

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-34092808139023826752010-09-28T00:36:00.000+08:002010-09-28T00:36:29.740+08:00

I suppose I should apologize for not blogging for just about forever. Only I hate apologizing, and I don't really know who reads this blog anymore. I've been thinking of shifting everything to my babelogica.com site, maybe that would be more appropriate. There are a few reasons why I haven't been blogging. Mostly because I'm out of practice. It's always very difficult to write after going away

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-67928535100922203902010-09-15T17:42:00.001+08:002010-09-15T18:07:07.636+08:00

Goddamn, spring has gone, summer has past and it's autumn already. Last night I noted it was dark at 7 pm. It was almost slightly dread inducing. You can see how those damn vampiers get depressed (yes, too much True Blood. And they should have placed Russel in a controlled UV dosage solarium instead of concrete, which seems like the perfect recovery tool...). Dani and I went to Antalya for a

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-62008239303320773692010-08-27T17:43:00.000+08:002010-08-27T17:43:25.640+08:00

Ok folks. Dani and I did this thing with the Must Haves ages ago. There were all sorts of problems like other commitments and the original soundtrack was never put in till now, and blah blah blah. But here it is. The attack of the Izzys. OMFG!!!

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-11764404034178380562010-08-20T16:42:00.000+08:002010-08-20T16:42:08.181+08:00

Ah fucket. I know I should blog more, but there's been so much work, and I keep on getting distrcted by shiny things on the internet :-/ Not much has happened. Dani had a rock grandma come over for a photoshoot for a music festival. She came Grace Jones style real fit and in leather, but they put her in a granny frock and fluffy boots -_-" There was also another grandma, but she was too frail

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-24855023975973512522010-08-11T16:19:00.001+08:002010-08-11T16:20:34.370+08:00

From the Paris Review: Can you recommend any books that will make interesting people approach me if I read them on the subway? During A Moveable Feast, people came up and quoted entire passages verbatim, and it really enhanced the reading experience. —Alexandra Petri The trick is to choose books that have cult followings, and so create a sense of secret fellowship—but that large numbers

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-15387194200136258242010-08-08T23:55:00.000+08:002010-08-08T23:55:39.109+08:00

Quiet days here. Experimented with some coke liquor thing they manufacture in Holland, nice stuff :-P Feels like the real thing, only more expensive. The only reason why anything is legal is just so they can tax your ass. Nah, I don't really believe that. While randomly browsing the web, I found this post from Socks and Violins.  "If you're so smart, why ain't you rich?" Neither intelligence

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-1553711563257001312010-08-03T01:19:00.000+08:002010-08-03T01:19:59.113+08:00

Met YY in Amsterdam. She's got a boyfriend now (a funky Polish, Russian, French +++ mix) , an interesting fellow working with in the field of augmented reality who was giving a workshop in A'dam. That stuff sounds like a whole lot of fun - the concept is inspired by a sci-fi story, Rainbow's End, by Vernor Vinge; engineers and scientists seem to have a lot of fun these days. Or maybe western

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-80841472759715408732010-07-30T04:26:00.003+08:002010-07-30T04:26:00.177+08:00

I know I promised I wouldn't talk about the weather, but I can't help it. It's been lovely. Cold and wet but sunny. And the sea breeze blowing through always, I love it. The air's always fresh here. Last night, before I went to bed, I thought about how nice it was to be able to go to sleep with the windows open. It gives you the sensation of sleeping outside, without actually having to sleep

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-83150936947504637792010-07-29T04:24:00.003+08:002010-07-29T04:24:00.616+08:00

Rochelle came around. It always starts of like that, you know. With no intention of sex and then somehow things start degenerating. She was discussing the details of her private life with us (the best sort of conversation one can have, really. Much better than talking about the weather.) when Dani put his hand up my shirt and she started curling her legs around him. I was just feeling fat and

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-33765569122030163952010-07-28T04:09:00.000+08:002010-07-28T04:09:14.398+08:00

I met M&W. They were somehow connected back in Sing circles through Tom. W engineered her own retrenchment and M, fucked off with both law and economics threw in the towel and well, fucked off. They're travelling around the world right now. At this moment, they're probably riding a beat up Land Rover with, hopefully, a 3.9l fuel injected engine (and not a 3.5l with carburettors with a notoriety

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-61409787053522690702010-07-14T23:06:00.001+08:002010-07-14T23:41:08.657+08:00

We went to Brussels for the weekend. I like Brussels, it's full of good drink and food and funny waiters with personality. It was awfully hot and humid, so it was a little bit like being back home. Except the beer was much better. Dani and I stayed in a hotel with a temperamental cooling system and sweated through the first night. I think it's a European thing to tolerate annoyingly warm

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-42617037132229511352010-06-30T00:25:00.003+08:002010-07-01T17:21:18.838+08:00

Summer is here. I don't quite remember when it came, but at some point it finally did. My boyfriend is hot, I'm starting to get my shit together, learning more about love and life and how not to be a confused, selfish bitch, and meeting new people. I've got a couple of goals for the next couple of months; working on design work and my novel (the same one! I've kept to it... ). I still have moods

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-87910363538792897572010-06-21T17:02:00.001+08:002010-06-21T17:07:05.281+08:00

I finally called my folks back home. It was kinda nice to talk to them, just so they know I'm alive. Although I hope they make sure of that by checking my Facebook updates because I do that several magnitudes more frequently than I come into contact with them, even back when we were living in the same town. I told my mother about Dani. The conversation went something like this. Her: So you

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-49596509706092085362010-06-16T19:21:00.001+08:002010-06-16T19:31:09.486+08:00

What is it exactly that we build love upon? Love that is lustful and romantic and rewarding and jealous and insane and frightening all at the same time. When we say we love someone, what is it exactly that we love? Do we love them for what they intrinsically are? Their good genes and commendable upbringing for example. That they are intelligent, good-looking, sweet-natured, passionate but sane,

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-69207626046492670632010-06-15T02:46:00.000+08:002010-06-15T02:46:44.098+08:00

At some point, I went from I would be crazy to give this up, to, if I give this up, I'm crazy. I remember my first spiritual trip. I was told that I should "Just feel, because if you think about the experience, you'll block it."

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-26691583244592870622010-06-10T18:13:00.001+08:002010-06-10T18:14:31.017+08:00

I've not been very nice. Actually I feel kind of rotten, and I'm too embarrassed and tired to talk about it.  :-/ But I think I see things a little clearer now. In the meantime, Phil tagged me here. The twist is I get to tag other people with 10 new questions. hil's Questions: 1. Who was your 3rd grade teacher and were you in love with her? (Lesbian lust is OK, in fact even better.) She was

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-71506865633428349702010-06-07T20:48:00.002+08:002010-06-07T22:02:06.909+08:00

This weekend, Dani and I went to another village to visit some other nice village folks. (I've decided that a city needs to at least have a core population of 2m to be a city). They were your typical village folk. Barbecue loving, weed smoking, peaceful people. There was a girl called Apple, a guy called Boole, another girl called Violet... and so on. Everyone ate lots of meat and mushrooms, and

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-81114057091385908632010-06-05T03:31:00.001+08:002010-06-05T03:31:26.960+08:00

I got a lovely email from Phil today. He's sooo sweet. Anyway, he pointed out something that I thought was a good idea for a blog post. Here is an excerpt from his email: ...where's this guy from and how old and what are his priors and where are his photos on FB etc - we are all on tenterhooks... waiting to find out more details. Yes I know it is tedious being asked all these questions but we

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-50736608334073672652010-06-04T06:14:00.001+08:002010-06-04T06:16:33.070+08:00

For the curious: Yes, I accepted the proposal, and I feel as if an oceanful of fairy dust has fallen upon me. It's all happening rather fast, but I feel that it's the right thing, and you gotta admit, it provides for a slightly more interesting twist in things then the usual group sex episode. We went on okCupid this evening and took a look at the match questions under "The Two if Us" (I know

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-74120234846145023752010-06-02T21:51:00.001+08:002010-06-02T21:52:10.533+08:00

I love this song by Matisyahu. The lyrics have a sort of... illuminating quality. Strip away the layers and reveal your soul Got to give yourself up and then you become whole You're a slave to yourself and you don't even know You want to live the fast life but your brain moves slow If you're trying to stay high then you're bound to stay low You want God but you can't deflate your ego If you're

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-59488446908076380602010-06-01T04:00:00.000+08:002010-06-01T04:00:02.173+08:00

It feels like I've been here for ages. The Hague's not the center of the world, but I've fallen in love, he's proposed, and I guess that changes everything :D It's kinda weird I know, ME with someone, but he's hard to beat in all departments; and more than anything I'm thoroughly surprised at how things have panned out. I mean, he's the funny, intelligent, somewhat geeky, athletic, non-socially

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-67901607294532649612010-05-31T06:00:00.000+08:002010-05-31T06:00:43.168+08:00

God I'm exhausted. Dani and I went to this contemporary classical music gig that turned out to be a load of wank in the end with this guy making 'music' with brain waves. The last bit was rather nice though, but for the weather. There were chartered buses that took us to the dunes, where the highest point in all Holland was retrofitted with some gadgets that received static and played it back

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-89180975062902368182010-05-26T05:47:00.000+08:002010-05-26T05:47:59.236+08:00

Shit, it's two weeks since my last post. My sense of time has been totally warped. On the one hand, time is flying by because Dani and I have been doing so much. There's something magical about the change from Winter to Spring. Um...alright, actually, there isn't. It's just warmer so going out and doing things becomes more attractive. We had a fight of sorts a few days ago, on our way back from

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-35208233074861760192010-05-12T20:00:00.000+08:002010-05-12T20:00:45.947+08:00

The trip tp Bologna has gone slightly off kilter and I am to be back in Holland sooner, which I do not mind, tbh. Dani has booked me in for the Walk the Line festival and gotten tickets to the Gotan Project for next week, so really, that's where I should be. His professions of missing me seem real enough; egad... very soon I will believe them, if I don't already. The only thing I will miss about

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-81449902387410271672010-05-09T19:16:00.000+08:002010-05-09T19:16:23.636+08:00

It's been lovely hanging out in Italy with the Fixer, Chris and their friends. Fix spends all his time cooking it's quite something. For some  reason, he doesn't sleep, so he cooks/prepares food all the time. He's good. I'm going to get a stake in his bistro when he opens one. We went to Venice yesterday. It was really nice going back there, much more fun this time for me. The last time I was

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-72183375924206754282010-05-06T06:53:00.000+08:002010-05-06T06:53:47.887+08:00

Off to Bologna tomorrow. Oh god, what an exhausting day it's been. Must have been all the wine. I wish I didn't drink so much sometimes.  Dan and I have been talking rather openly about sex and jealousy and insanity (you know, the usual) :-P We got into a row because I went to Amsterdam for Queen's day to visit Dev. I never planned anything, and I didn't explicitly go to A'dam to get down and

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-82336268657698324282010-05-05T00:12:00.000+08:002010-05-05T00:12:15.931+08:00

Comment from previous post: Ha ha. You've gotta understand the man's rules for an open relationship. HE is able to sleep with anyone, ogle and chat up any of your girlfriends and his exes, either in front of you or behind your back, and he take off whenever he likes without telling you. The girl (ie you) must only... um, "have relations" with pre-agreed characters, who MUST be dweebs of

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-6617469283707542182010-05-04T05:46:00.000+08:002010-05-04T05:46:20.586+08:00

Many things have happened the past weekend. Things have just been going up and down and I couldn't have blogged about it without affecting the way things paned out, so I didn't. That, and also there was no time. Queen's night and queen's day was a blast. I had a wonderful time on the streets of The Hague and Amsterdam, despite the chill I caught the next day for dancing barely dressed in the rain

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-35618745295409161012010-04-30T21:04:00.001+08:002010-04-30T21:04:01.916+08:00

Facebook account has been deleted by the censorship board. Going to Amsterdam now for Queen's day :D See y'all soon.

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-67513941071484840662010-04-28T23:15:00.000+08:002010-04-28T23:15:05.499+08:00

Yesterday was weird. I ended up sitting on the roof landing on Mark's balcony with his neighbour in my underpants trying to get a tan. When I was going to go off, I couldn't find my keys and iPod. I'd left them on the table when I took off my pants before I got on the roof. I hunted for them everywhere but couldn't find them. Then Mark made me sit down for awhile and asked me to calm down and

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-33538538889287125262010-04-27T08:27:00.000+08:002010-04-27T08:27:00.291+08:00

First proper workout in ages. As opposed to running around the city at a leisurely pace. I don't feel all that out of shape, but weeks of drinking far too much has done its damage on my strength. It's quite amazing what a little bit of intense exercise can make you see. For example, the first thing I realized was that I am bullshitting myself if I continue to think things will work out if I slosh

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-11079687930034810662010-04-26T08:56:00.000+08:002010-04-26T08:56:00.323+08:00

One of the more peculiar meet-ups so far was with Devlyn, from this forum I used to frequent when I was 15 and obsessed with The Wheel of Time. In case you're wondering, I stopped at Winter's Heart. He found me on okCupid after I had left the forum 6 years ago. I think since the turn of the century, nerds have become better and better looking. Most of the ones I know are cute, although something

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-10954947102189182322010-04-25T20:22:00.000+08:002010-04-25T20:22:52.894+08:00

Today is the first real day of spring. I think it's absolutely wonderful, I'd forgotten how much I missed experiencing the changing seasons. I've been living with Dan for three-ish weeks already. It's funny how well we're getting along, and I wonder what will happen when his parents come visit and I start traveling. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my imagination, I'm harbouring thoughts of

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-36354605616759244172010-04-23T20:32:00.000+08:002010-04-23T20:32:34.823+08:00

Ugh the figuring out my legal situation is becoming a pain in the ass. The self-employment thing is a total catch-22. I need a work permit, in order to get a work permit, I need a residence permit. I can get one if I register as a self-employed person. In order to get registered, I need to prove my income, in order to prove my income I need to file VAT, in order to file VAT I need to be working,

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-80977430315704233722010-04-20T16:34:00.000+08:002010-04-20T16:34:53.888+08:00

A few nights ago I left my black silk cardigan at Mark's place after I stopped by for one more drink before I headed home. I went by last night to retrieve it, and also to say hi to Mark because he's a nice guy and for some reason seems to like me a lot for the same reason other guys tend to like me a lot (Apparently the combination of sexy and geeky is a good dating strategy). His neighbour was

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-5561077791436338172010-04-19T17:02:00.003+08:002010-04-19T17:10:56.921+08:00

(The band is called the Must-Haves) I had loads of fun shooting the video yesterday. (It was shot in this bar called the Supermarkt down at the Grote Markt) It was a little awful at the time, with the piles of make-up on my face, scratchy wigs and far too little clothing for how chilly it got at points; plus the fact that everything started at 10 a.m. and wrapped just before midnight. But it

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-74529161281085779462010-04-17T17:40:00.000+08:002010-04-17T17:40:11.250+08:00

Rochelle made it down yesterday for her shoot. She was all ill when she arrived, but after putting on her gear (which included a killer corset and a pair of ankle breaking platform heels), her health seemed to take a turn for the better. Perhaps there's something to be said for making yourself look fabulous as a way to stop feeling sick and ready to roll. Dan is making a book of a seemingly

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-24435279127516629632010-04-16T17:40:00.000+08:002010-04-16T17:40:48.666+08:00

I am so fucked. Ugh. Mark gave me one of his anti-depressants and I popped it, against my better judgment, and I feel fucked now. Metaphorically of course, because right now, I can't fuck, due to a mild case of UTI, which was also the reason why Rochelle didn't come down on Tuesday, because she got it first. The cosmic will is opposing this fisting business apparently, and probably with good

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-35960395385004231942010-04-13T07:38:00.000+08:002010-04-13T07:38:00.181+08:00

When I got up this morning, I realized that the tree in the backyard had grown little flower buds. I love having four seasons, although sometimes the chill does get to you. One of my favourite things about Europe is that it has architecture I can sketch. This one is from the first pleasant day in The Hague, on the Grote Markt.

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-36792722000860275102010-04-12T18:47:00.000+08:002010-04-12T18:47:04.214+08:00

I'm the only person I know that can turn a party filled with nerds playing wii into a den of junk come sunrise. Of course most of everybody else wasn't interested so I'm not that good, but I can understand people that refuse a serotonin high. It makes you feel pretty bad several hours later. Most of the feeling of ill comes from exhaustion though. Not enough rest and everything goes wrong.

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-51986164555932095432010-04-10T20:51:00.000+08:002010-04-10T20:51:38.600+08:00

When the weather's pleasant, I feel glad that it's spring instead of an eternal summer. The synthetic haze of purgatory has lifted, and I'm starting to feel comfortable in my new environment. It's kind of funny to live with a lover again, haven't done that in ages; Dan's been on leave the last 10 days, so we've managed to accomplish nothing much except watch episode after episode of Black Books

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-41528864362304653632010-04-08T07:00:00.000+08:002010-04-08T07:00:23.011+08:00

I finally got to see Amsterdam yesterday. I love it. It's cute, compact, and all the buildings are sinking at an angle into the sand below. The windows in the red light distract were pretty surreal. And in case you were wondering, no I don't smoke ganja. Like all good trips to A'dam, there was a good amount of surreality involved. At some point, Dan called up this girl he'd met on okC, Rochelle,

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-87550377995036281242010-04-07T00:56:00.002+08:002010-04-07T17:39:09.455+08:00

First lovely day int The Hague. The weather looks like it's improving, although in Holland, you never really know, and it's probably not improving, but one can hope for the best. Got massively trashed with Ruiter on Saturday where I ended up leaving my jacket at this awful karaoke bar called The Thai Princess and then had a freaky ride back to his flat on the back of his bicycle. It was really

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-7041848751071485902010-04-06T03:00:00.002+08:002010-04-06T03:02:07.140+08:00

I passed out last night. So what's new. A combination of jet-lag and general madness. I dreamed of Andrew all last night. I was trying to contact him (in the dream), but my mobile had fucked up because I tried to wash a giant crayfish at some point, and my phone got wet in the process. When I woke up, he was in my head. He filled it up completely, and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I just

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-44254535215521202522010-04-02T23:41:00.000+08:002010-04-02T23:41:27.276+08:00

Everything is going along smoothly. I've finally had enough sleep and stayed away from any excessive behaviour long enough to feel much better, and a great deal less confused. It's only my third day here, and it does feel a little as if I were on the other side of the looking glass, unable to get back through to the life I've left behind. But it will pass, I won't look back, and things will turn

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-28404114007053597512010-03-31T20:43:00.000+08:002010-03-31T20:43:10.197+08:00

This was Monday: No Exit I don't know where to start really. I had a really um... enriching... weekend. Andrew had been convinced it had been throughly horrible for awhile back there... Sure, there were moments of ludicrous insanity and I do feel sick now after all the excesses, but it was definitely a throughly memorable "holiday". An off the rails adventure would be a more apt description

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-76594787930061260052010-03-29T08:46:00.000+08:002010-03-29T08:46:36.125+08:00

Oh my god I'm so horny I could throw myself off the balcony into the Chao Phraya river, but I'll just jerk off to some lesbian porn instead. Bangkok is a wild city, and every girl is a kind of gay. Kind of. If you pay, they will alter their sexual orientation just for you. Or... you could just go for the older women, they hate most men. Andrew is an exception for them of course. Anyway, It was a

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-54570220421672736492010-03-26T16:24:00.000+08:002010-03-26T16:24:57.945+08:00

Hey guys. Things are all over the place. No worries, more updates soon once I've settled down nicely. A whole bunch of freaky shit is happening, and I'm concerned about my parents and what fragments remain of our relationship. It's been a very hard time for them, with my brother leaving, and now me, and my sister hell bent on leaving the country for uni as well. So... gonna lie low for a few more

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-75467176682046353222010-03-24T12:56:00.000+08:002010-03-24T12:56:20.243+08:00

The party lasted till 5 a.m. on the Spirit Roof. One glass was broken, Braveheart looped 3 times, Ash was prancing around and fighting with Feli in a kilt (it's heavy!), one of the chairs got broken, Tom gave MGM his blessing to have sex with me, again (If only it were that simple...) The stars were gorgeous last night, unlike how they usually are in Sing, and at 4 in the morning, Charis sang a

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-81039488704024257002010-03-22T11:05:00.001+08:002010-03-22T11:15:50.839+08:00

I don't think my last weekend in Sing could have ended off in a better way. It was Seb's birthday on Friday and I went out to meet him. It was one of those really huge, out of control parties that had about 20-30 people (he's Spanish), half of whom preferred speaking a foreign language (French. Surprise, surprise), and no one I found particularly attractive enough to stick around to chat up (the

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-30114228908112273462010-03-20T13:25:00.002+08:002010-03-20T13:25:00.076+08:00

The dinner was great. I managed to convince the Fixer and the other dinner guest that I had two vaginas. And that I even have a website all about it: 2vaginas.com (It's just a collection of my animations ATM.) At some point, MGM got a tad bit pissed off. Being a social retard, I couldn't really figure out what it was about until later. So he went home. I called Luna and the Bit up and they said

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-7796011366535598582010-03-19T12:37:00.003+08:002010-03-19T13:24:10.274+08:00

That was a fun Thursday night. The Fixer and I went for a 10k run, and he says I kicked his ass at it. I don't think I ever did that route in under 50 minutes, but this time I think it must have been around 45. I never ran it so fast. By the time we got back to MGM's, I was dripping wet and hot and shirtless and in a really good mood. The boys were impressed ;-) Later on, while we were waiting

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-18094673883389193282010-03-18T11:34:00.000+08:002010-03-18T11:34:58.842+08:00

Sam came by the Dojo last night. It's been awhile since we caught up with her, she's one of those interesting, left of center girls (like all my girlfriends really) I find worth staying in touch with. Plus, she's an artist. Like, a real one. I don't think of myself as an artist. I'd never go out and do something completely crazy for a sustained period of time. The difference between some crazy

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-50507658095332738032010-03-17T15:24:00.001+08:002010-03-17T17:48:08.680+08:00

The Fixer invited me for dinner last night. I had a perfectly regular evening planned with Flo (gym, movie, shag), when I got a message from Fix asking if I was free for dinner. I wasn't, but I figured dinner with him would be a lot more amusing than the night I'd planned (because I had planned it I knew what was going to happen, so that's not very exciting now, is it). It turned out that the

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-9163166554257410702010-03-16T13:29:00.000+08:002010-03-16T13:29:32.577+08:00

From how I see it, the thing between MGM and me has managed to bungle itself up into a sub-optimal state where I'm wishing I could take back what I said and felt and have things as they were. Which is kind of fucking retarded, because I don't really, it was good they happened, and I had fun. But I want things to stop being weird. If I knew it was going to be such a big deal, I supposed I wouldn't

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-55307711207680382542010-03-15T00:33:00.001+08:002010-03-15T03:35:42.252+08:00

A rather epic weekend if I may say so myself, but not like I would have expected otherwise. MGM introduced me to a friend of his from the wild and seedy side of Bangkok (as if there were another side) who was brought here as a fixer. The company he's doing consulting for had their birthday bash on Friday, so we were all invited. It was a bit wet TBH, and the pole dancers weren't all that fit, but

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-75170695357764690172010-03-13T17:43:00.000+08:002010-03-13T17:43:59.482+08:00

Hi Stranger! Because I'm too fucked today to actually say something.

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-19148033750628721222010-03-12T16:49:00.001+08:002010-03-12T16:51:24.437+08:00

I met Avi last night. I don't see him that often, mostly because he had a girlfriend and also because he lived way out in the 'heartlands'. It's a pity really. He's an awesome person, which was something he told me back in '07 in a bout of frustration while I was obsessing over another guy. Who turned out to be not all that amazing once the high we were living in wore off. We have a bit of a

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-54060779770904237842010-03-11T02:39:00.075+08:002010-03-11T18:19:47.672+08:00

I finally bit the button and went on Chatroulette. I love a little bit of randomness in my life, so it was definitely a thing I always wanted to do, but the thought of immediately being confronted with a total stranger online, which I then felt I had to entertain, isn't usually something I'm up for. It just felt like it was going to be somewhat of an effort, which it was. Like most fun things

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-86768344682760192142010-03-10T16:03:00.001+08:002010-03-10T16:05:44.215+08:00

So what really happened, according to MGM: My sources tell me that your suspicions ran even deeper. Apparently, you thought that MGM was still planning to sleep in his own bed but deliberately removed the sheets in a Machiavellian bid to deter you from joining him. A source directly connected to the whole incident passed me this insider account: The place: MGM Mansions, Singapore The time:

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-89710881757224146272010-03-08T23:23:00.001+08:002010-03-09T01:15:51.914+08:00

His iPhone screamed and I woke up with a start this morning in an unfamiliar bed. It took me awhile to realize I was in MGM's spare bed, that he was beside me, and that I was probably still drunk. He told me I passed out last night the moment I hit the bed. According to him, I get suspicious when I get drunk. Which I guess is kinda true. Thanks to this deep, piercing stroke of insight, I can now

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-7375869812949831112010-03-06T04:45:00.000+08:002010-03-06T04:45:00.076+08:00

I've just discovered Marina Abramovic. Apparently she's the grandmother of performance art. MOMA is doing a retrospective of her work, and The New Yorker has a video slideshow on her work. My previous attitude towards performance art was that it was bullshit. Most of the time. Sometimes it can be great fun, but I think most of it is mostly nonsense. I think if you took some of the strange shit

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-11693815718503360132010-03-05T01:09:00.000+08:002010-03-05T01:09:00.777+08:00

Remember the time I mentioned painting myself completely blue  before taking  a walk down Orchard Road? I've finally uploaded the video. Enjoy!

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-52355586201091622182010-03-04T15:41:00.000+08:002010-03-04T15:41:37.966+08:00

Oh my god... last night was so awesome. Most of my favourite people were there, Charis wrote me a song, I got a hat from Sara (I don't know where I've left it now), far too much champagne from MGM and Tom's going to take me shopping this weekend for something useful. It was nice to finally get to introduce the guys to each other. I'm not particularly aware of the minefields of introducing Scots

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-74478387188925590032010-03-03T18:47:00.002+08:002010-03-03T18:54:36.632+08:00

Yay! I've done almost nothing all day! Went out for drinks with MGM last night and his crazy writer friend from BK/I-S Mag. I got two presents that were "not new, but carefully selected" and a kiss :-D I've decided to have the party outside YY and Sara's studio-space thing around Arab Street. It's going to be great. And... guess what? Just to prove how much a geek I am (not that this really

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-53911571415036436662010-03-03T12:18:00.000+08:002010-03-03T12:18:27.700+08:00

At 6 pm. I felt everything coalescing into a big cosmic ball inside me. I closed my eyes and the world started to roll. I felt like everything was connected, and I felt good. The world was spinning and the light that was reflected off all shiny surfaces seemed to me to be far too bright. I had lie down and close my eyes. Which only made me feel even more awesome. Concerta usually never makes me

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-73365625981172218512010-03-02T03:29:00.003+08:002010-03-02T03:35:29.051+08:00

From the life of Pi. (You know it's time to go to sleep when you start talking about small furry creatures in your bed on facebook chat :-O) I woke up at dawn covered from head to toe in a living fur blanket. Some meerkittens had discovered the warmer parts of my body. I had a tight, sweaty collar of them around my neck, while others had wedged themselves around the area between my legs. They

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-27079991181272002010-03-01T01:32:00.004+08:002010-03-01T02:00:20.266+08:00

Man. I have to say last night was pretty epic. It was mostly hilarious, somewhat awesome, and just that wee bit embarrassing (if you get trashed, you've got to do things that will make you blush the morning after). To start of with, I had been drinking Red Snappers since noon (A Red Snapper is a modified Bloody Mary made with gin instead of vodka and Clamato juice, instead of tomato juice) ,

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-21414613787226629012010-02-27T11:20:00.001+08:002010-02-27T11:20:00.840+08:00

I keep saying one night stands are not really my thing, but if you do them right, they can be seriously amusing. As in, weird, fucked up, hilarious and hopefully a little freaky for the guy. I mean, you know you're probably not going to see each other again, so might as well do/say/feel whatever the hell you like. And I usually do. One of the fucking crazy things I'd do is to pretend I'm totally

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-67186251961194480942010-02-26T00:27:00.000+08:002010-02-26T00:27:25.030+08:00

I am suffering from a mild case of cabin fever. It's not a problem when you have someone you love to share the cabin with you, but staying indoors alone all the time can start to fray your nerves. I knew I had hit the end of the road when I took an afternoon nap and dreamed about playing Dungeons and Dragons. In the dream, I woke up to Indy's voice (duh). He was sitting outside my bedroom window

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-22110089704278385072010-02-25T12:05:00.000+08:002010-02-25T12:05:53.379+08:00

My life was going along in a perfectly sensible manner for the last 3 weeks since Tom and co. decided to stop drinking, and I attempted to stop drinking massively, and then last night happened. Nothing really strange happened last night, except I got drunk on a couple of drinks and got laid. And then started smut talking to Special K on Facebook. (Oh no! I've done it again, I've given one of my

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-14097601574570398852010-02-23T23:56:00.002+08:002010-02-23T23:56:44.423+08:00

I dumped my backpack gratefully on a couch and hastily took off all my clothes and went into the bathroom. There was something peculiar about it on that day. I sensed another presence in there. The will of another living creature, or something like it. I don’t think I was so much afraid as I was excited and curious. Then I saw it. There was a snake lying dormant on the floor, coiled around the

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-33553842638462623912010-02-23T08:30:00.011+08:002010-02-23T08:30:00.348+08:00

 Out of the blue, one of my friends from Secondary school days started to talk to me about 'the time when we were young and carefree'. Back when we were in that tropical Saint-Trinians' of repressed lesbian wardens and horny boyish girls all just coming of age. It was a school where severe haircuts were part of the uniform, and they took being in the Lord's military most seriously. Out on the

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-51668141118553630172010-02-22T21:38:00.000+08:002010-02-22T21:38:42.959+08:00

To all the awesome, daring, crazy people I've known through romping around in this crazy jungle of sex, drugs, rock n' roll (or electronic music, or Wagner, or whatever). I can safely say I do not know anyone who has lived their lives like my parents did. In the wake of failed marriages, used hearts, alternative sexual arrangements, post-traumatic stress disorder, social humiliation, body

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-27894467989712437002010-02-22T13:00:00.000+08:002010-02-22T13:00:06.470+08:00

This is a really strange article (I have NO idea what it's trying to say) that was in the Norwegian Daily about Asian bloggers, and about young Asia in general.  The photos were taken in London. When the paper asked for a submission of photographs, the big one was chose explicitly because it had the woman all wrapped up in the background. The visual play was on the contrast between Asia and the

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-51264135892974015982010-02-22T00:53:00.001+08:002010-02-22T00:58:01.290+08:00

I finally started reading Lost Girls. I read part of volume 1 ages ago, but then got busy and never carried on. It's Alan Moore's take on the fantasies of Alice, Wendy and Dorothy. Their alternate universes as a metaphor for sexual awakening. The Straw Man in The Wizard of Oz wasn't really a straw man, he was a beautiful blonde boy with not a lot of brains. The Queen of Hearts was Alice's

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-680630694458094602010-02-20T13:19:00.001+08:002010-02-20T13:39:40.196+08:00

A long chain of events have led me to The Evil Singing Pandas. They are a Singaporean heavy metal band, but I found out about them on a boat from Stockholm to Helsinki. The entire chain goes like this. In the middle of the Australian outback, Remy Fan of TESP meets Nicola, crazy-about-rock Italian guy working for IKEA. Because he's working for IKEA, he has to head down to Stockholm ever so often,

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-25006295462611928502010-02-19T13:55:00.000+08:002010-02-19T13:55:04.477+08:00

Massages must feature in every guy's tactical plan when it comes to getting a girl into bed. They're a great way to test the situation. If a girl is willing to lie down and put herself into your hands in a barely dressed state, it definitely is a start. They are a good transitioning strategy, particularly if the girl is a bit shy with more direct come ons, or if she's not realized yet just how

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-65693746935164936062010-02-18T13:09:00.001+08:002010-02-18T13:16:00.109+08:00

So it was Liz's and Stef's birthday yesterday. It was pretty epic, I'd never seen her this trashed before. Usually she sits around quietly checking guys out and occasionally complains about how crap all of them are. But she was really friendly last night. At one point she was sitting on some random guy's lap outside the bar, unnecessarily and continuously reinforcing in all our brains how drunk

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-31090242453428855162010-02-17T02:27:00.000+08:002010-02-17T02:27:37.009+08:00

The plan to get my shit together and move to Holland is coming along nicely. Trina was right, once I got my ticket booked, things started falling into place. It's almost like magic, but not quite. Subconsciously, I think we all make an effort to get our lives onto the direction we want it to go. After sending out a few emails and what not, and getting generally positive replied, I've established

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-29911087174445717042010-02-15T02:08:00.004+08:002010-03-03T17:32:14.313+08:00

I'm a little late, but you know, fuck it. Happy Valentine's Day y'all. To celebrate this, I've thrown in a few photos of my most epic V-day ever. It happened in the dead of winter in Budapest, while I was on exchange. It was my 3rd weekend in this almost terrifyingly foreign country where I did not speak the language, had next to no friends, and was still acclimatizing myself to the -10

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-73644800310861938282010-02-13T18:34:00.000+08:002010-02-13T18:34:04.359+08:00

FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBOUR TOTORO!!!

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-55382006006555322402010-02-13T16:00:00.000+08:002010-02-13T16:00:36.832+08:00

You got to give me credit, using Zadie Super-maid as a match-maker wasn't a half bad idea, although it didn't work out in the end. I've started talking to her a little more lately, and she has quite some stories to tell. She's not so much of an exciting personality, as an interesting one; being good at organizing the lives of alcoholic expats, she can't possibly be chaotic by nature. However,

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-37190716606042768532010-02-12T00:45:00.001+08:002010-02-12T00:46:03.357+08:00

As my sex life switches from value=1 to value=0, I start descending into nerd-dom and read blogs like the one by Psychologist Richard Wiseman, who possibly has the best advice for this season, (which is most certainly going to be horrid: Chinese New Year and Valentine's...) The title of his post should make you cream your pants with the anticipation of increasing your chances of getting laid

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-30610244830464803552010-02-10T12:48:00.001+08:002010-02-10T12:50:14.701+08:00

She presses the sky against her lips, It hides her face and denies her, Breaths, Without the scent of melancholy. The heavy air that suffocates her, Is soaked in sweat, And smoke, From a morning reading, of Macbeth. Her skin is chilled on the outside, Above subcutaneous tissue, Sweat, Like detergent on a week-old, freshly laundered shirt.

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-78711055295756299292010-02-09T16:20:00.000+08:002010-02-09T16:20:36.742+08:00

Seriously I think I'm over it, but I guess not :-)

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-74164510861980885342010-02-08T23:29:00.000+08:002010-02-08T23:29:39.704+08:00

I felt my weekend reach an all time lame point when I realized that Elle was not the girl whose fuck buddy 3 years ago was the man I tried to pick up at my gym. MGM was at her birthday do, and I decided to drop in because there was nothing else to do, apart from hanging out with exchange students at Supper Club, which doesn't appeal to me anymore. You simply can't depend on exchange students for

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-39631578307903485442010-02-07T12:57:00.001+08:002010-02-07T12:59:37.145+08:00

Phone call to Sara "Hey, we're supposed to meet this afternoon right? I bet you're going to Florence and the Machine. Yes? You fucking bitch! Both of you, why don't you ever tell me this shit? You know I'm always there too. Man. Avoiding me? You know resistance is futile, I'm stalking you through all the experimental music gigs in the Esplanade diary. Well okay it doesn't matter, Tom has been

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-32067279391559476592010-02-06T12:44:00.002+08:002010-02-06T12:45:20.773+08:00

Just as if to remind me of how fast and far time has passed, someone posted a link to the Alberta World Cup (a kind of prelude to the 2010 Winter Olympics) on facebook, and I saw this sprint skier Liz and I met last year at Singer's own crappy Cafe del Mar on Sentosa. It wasn't so crappy then though. The guy on the left is Peter Larsson, who bought Liz a bottle of M&C after much fuss around

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-89029096729948708272010-02-05T00:05:00.000+08:002010-02-05T00:05:38.498+08:00

So, while planning this move to Holland, I have sent my dear friend Trina a message to ask for some advice on "just packing up and going" with a lot of guts and very little money. I have met several people like that in the last few years. One of them was a girl from Siberia who moved to Budapest on exchange... and never went back. If you think your luck is though, some other people have it

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-15938663152043194252010-02-04T00:24:00.001+08:002010-02-04T00:37:23.743+08:00

We were looking through web pages that offered advice on the appropriate course of action one should take should one accidentally ingest lamp oil (as you do). The results were not promising. "Woman dies after drinking lamp oil", "Lamp oil intoxication fatal", "Near fatal ingestion of household lamp oil". He told me not to look at the result because it would only make me feel more ill than I

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-19430821360344676842010-02-03T01:20:00.001+08:002010-02-03T11:06:54.153+08:00

To be honest I didn't think I'd fall in love. What was this crazy little thing anyway? I've felt adolescent obsession, animal passion, tender friendship, but never like this. To have let myself trust someone so fast and so much was out of character for me, and to have had it reciprocated was even more surprising. Before I knew it, I was spiraling down the rabbit hole and making promises to myself

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-22154719116018434862010-02-02T03:58:00.001+08:002010-02-02T04:01:38.898+08:00

When I say "love," the sound comes out of my mouth and it hits the other person's ear, travels through this Byzantine conduit in their brain, you know, through their memories of love or lack of love, and they register what I'm saying and they say yes, they understand. But how do I know they understand? Because words are inert. They're just symbols. They're dead, you know? And so much of our

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760887.post-53174615102223736912010-01-30T18:52:00.000+08:002010-01-30T18:52:59.562+08:00

Sven Våth was a spiritual experience. He went on till 5:30 and kept on going. Well past Zouk's closing time indeed. I had an epiphany while on the dance floor. I was spacing out (a combination of sleepiness, awesome and really loud Trance- minimal ish beats) thinking about my move to Holland when the little voice in my head said, "Fuck it you know. You should just go. It's a free country there,

Isabellanoreply@blogger.com0