That other thing.

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 pose for a portrait.

Are you happy now?

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 for awhile. There's this great sense of guilt that I haven't been talking to an old friend, and that I should. The longer I don't write, the greater the sense of guilt, and so on.

The other day, a friend asked me a most peculiar question. It was this : Are you happy now? I answered that I was (what else could I say?) But the question is a little more complex. I can't say that I'm ever truly happy. I'm more content now that I was before, and despite the bad weather and the lack of the sort of good friends I had back in Singers, I'm very happy with Dani. I know it's kinda cheesy, but a good relationship really does make all the difference. Gradually becoming deeply intuned with another person is real special, and very satisfying. It's also a plus that we work together on projects, which has given me a better sense of direction as to where I'd like to go, career wise. I feel things are less impossible now with someone else working with me. We haven't done alot yet, but it's beginning.

And alright. I'll blog more. I promise. Especially about the stupid shit.

In the meantime, here's some advice on how to beat your wife from a religious point of view.

Autumn.

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 sun scortching holiday where we spent most of the time attempting to resemble our food (salted, oiled and broiled in the sun). We stayed in a cute hotel run primarily run by a funny gay dude of a very feminine desposition that kept on hitting on him. For some reason, that particular hotel had more then its fair share of gay couples, I felt. On the last night, after we'd paid the bar tab, Dani asked if he was completely clean concerning the bill and the guy told him "Oh yes, always clean sir... and very handsome".

We saw a bunch of Hellenistic ruins, most wrecked and preserved by a series of earthquakes. Some drowned, some trapped in calcium, some still standing, some appropriated by tourists into a public bath (as was its destined purpose). Food was awesome. Holland is pretty good for things like art and design and music and herbal supplements, but food really isn't one of them.

I've been kept busy with some design work, which is great. There's nothing like gainful employment after years of dicking around. Although that said, there's still not enough work, which bugs the hell out of me. Always easier to have jobs thrown at you then to be inspired enough to hunt them down or create them for yourself. We hooked up with some of Dani's colleagues that are working on some documentary stuff, and it'll be nice if a positioned opened up for it, but these NGOs take forever to get anything going.Well, we'll see. It'll be awhile yet.

There are loads of other things I'd like to say, but I don't have the ability to put them into words right now. Too ephemeral. Too inconclusive. Can see, can't define.

X

The Must Haves, Gotta Roll.

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!!!

Group Sex and the Life of Plants.

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 and couldn't lift her arm up to do the 'horn' sign, so she couldn't be used. I tried to make everyone drink this cocoa leaf liquor that makes you jump off the walls, but I ended up guzzling most of it myself. I thought the effects of the substance might be beneficial to those of age, you know. Just trying to help out a little. Bah.

Over the weekend, we met a couple for some group sex. Yeah, weird shit. Gotta try it. I've done it before, but usually it's a little bit more spontaneous. The girl was some Costa Rican lingerie model and the guy was your typical run of the mill Dutch computer nerd. It was alright. She couldn't speak English and we couldn't speak Dutch or Spanish, so the communication part was a bit wanting.

She was petite and sexy and sweet and all of that, so she was a treat, really. I liked her. But the guy was a bit pushy, and I didn't find him sexy at all, so well. That was somewhat unfortunate I guess. Plus  he wanted to stay for-fucking-ever. I was really twatted by 3 a.m. because I've been on this new programme at the gym where Rogier (the guy with the previous job at the inquisition, remember?) breaks my back, but he was still suggesting 'another round'. I was on the verge of asking Dani to put on "The Life of Plants" (BBC, with Sir Attenborough) because I just wanted to chill out, and didn't want anymore herbal substances to help me along. :P I think hence forth, that will the the way forward to get rid of people when they've overstyed their group sex invitation. The Life of Plants.

In the past I used to put on "Planet Earth" at 6 in the morning. You gotta love "Planet Earth" when you're off your tits. I also love it stone cold sober while riding a horse upside down too.

Meh. Back to work now -_-"

5 Books for the Subway.

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 of your fellow-riders have actually read. That's why it depends somewhat on your subway line. As Philip Roth is to the Seventh Avenue trains, so Jonathan Lethem is to the F. For the Q I might carry either story collection of Edward P. Jones (impress your new friend by pointing out that the two collections are linked, story by story) or anything by Lipsyte or Shteyngart. (Each of whom is also beloved on the L.) On the Lexington Avenue line, The Transit of Venus. For the G train: War and Peace, A Dance to the Music of Time, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 2666, Gravity's Rainbow, the complete works of Charles Michener, etc.

Of course, certain writers are good bets anywhere. Thanks to my bike, I have no particular subway, but I will instantly take a friendly interest in anyone I see reading Ta-Nehisi Coates's memoir The Beautiful Struggle, Norman Rush's Mortals, IJ, anything by Adam Phillips, or the essays of Charles Lamb. Possession of these books is sufficient cause for me to ask which part you're at. Maybe for others too. All of which is to say: be careful what you wish for.

I can't imagine reading War and Peace on the subway. The book I've read on the subway, which I've had the highest instance of seeing other people read on the subway is The God Delusion. Mostly because it's hard to miss even in a crowded carriage and I have a feeling that people that read it on the subway are trying to project something about their beliefs to everyone else. The last person I saw on the train reading it had an entire summer's worth of rave bands on his wrists and a Pangea T-Shirt on his back. It's not a very well written or memorable book, but it's definitely one that will start you conversations, for sure.

5 books I have read on the subway I see most often by other people reading on the subway: The God Delusion, The Black Swan (I read fooled by randomness, but the two are really the same book), The Tipping Point, Freakonomics and uh. Stieg Larsson.

5 books I have read on the subway previously that I wish other people I met on the subway were reading too, so I can chat them up on a long and boring train ride:

1. The Bottom Billion (on poverty)
2. The Closing of the Western Mind.
3. The Singularity (it's tech-trash, but fun, and only a certain kind of weirdo would read it).
4. A Dandy in the Underworld (Sex, drugs, Savile Row, a botch up cruxifiction and a great white shark).
5. The Omnivore's Delimma.

Stolen

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 nor general ability has anything to do with wealth.

Simply look at the wealthiest people in the world. These are not the best of humanity, nor the brightest. They are merely the wealthiest.

If anything, ability tends to relegate one to the upper edge of the lower classes, because it only makes sense that ability should be used. If you have dancing ability, you should dance. If you have musical ability, you should make music. With remarkably few exceptions, using real abilities does not make much money. In the end, it is always limited by time, and time is always too short for riches.

I once calculated that I was worth $2000/hour to one company. They didn't pay me that, of course, or anywhere near it. But had they paid me that, and had I been able to sustain that work for a full year, I'd have earned four million dollars. A typical lawyer, working at $300/hour, would require nearly seven years to earn four million dollars. A mechanic, working at $50/hour, would work for 40 years to earn four million dollars.

You cannot earn a hundred million dollars in one lifetime with ability. You certainly cannot reach a billion dollars.

The only way to accumulate such a substantial fortune is through leverage, which means -- one way or another -- gaining a legal claim on the labor of others, and taking for yourself a disproportionate share of their earned reward. There simply is no other way to do it.

That doesn't require ability. It requires understanding the truth that underlies the game: that it isn't about your ability at all. It is about other people's abilities, and their willingness to work for a lot less than they are worth.

For the Hackerspace Guys.

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 media has been glaming it up to wean subsequent generations off their dependency on nerdy Asian students. I've been thinking for years now I'm in the wrong boat, career wise. Should have listened to daddy... :P

It was a lovely meeting her in A'dam. Funny to see her sitting outside the Van Gogh museum lost in her thoughts, sketchbook in hand, wearing her funky art shoes. There was a great deal of boyfriend talk, of her adventures in the south of France, literary fairs etc. She's doing well. I like hanging out with her and Sara alot. They're both lost and enjoying the adventure.

Most of the girls I went to school with are no longer in Sing. They're all doing some weird shit elsewhere in the world. I like it. I'll probably try and visit them in the UK sometime this autumn. Oh, and I hope there's been some girls to replace the 3 of us at HS for the time being :P

Morning Star.

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 outside. I hadn't done that in a long time, mostly because it's too hot and rainy down in the tropics.

In our bedroom, we've got the most ridiculous windown display. 6 cacti lined up along the windowsill. I think they're really good feng shui even though you can't see them because they're always covered by the linen day curtains, but I like them there. I look at them when I brush my teeth. Them, and the fattest pigeon in the world always hanging around the neighbour's garden, attracting all the cats.

There's one of them that has so far flowered three times. It grows this long stalk that takes forever to grow and then gives birth to the most stunning flower like a layered star that smells so fresh and bittersweet. The flower lasts for 12 hours, and then it dies. I really like that plant. It makes me think about how perfectly engineered all biological things are. Probably in the desert, 12 hours is the maximum trade off for the chance to reproduce with the loss of precious resrouces.

I was standing around looking at it when Dani suggested that I should polinate it. (The flower had both male and female parts).

"Pollinate it?"

"Yeah! Use your hair. I stuck my finger in it and tried to muss it around, but why don't you put your hair in it rustle it up a little?"

I thought it was an interesting idea (a little cute and some what silly) and seemed like it could work so I did it.

My Babies.

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 unattractive from too much pasta (although I know the truth to be otherwise, but all women have a disconnect between how fat they are and how fat they think they are) but a bit more whiskey soon took care of that.

I like having her around. I think the best thing about it is how um... unpretentious the whole thing was. You know, a lot of threesomes are just weird. Where everyone's aware they're doing this thing and it's like, you know, a thing. Bah. We're going to get a strap on for me, soon. I like using the dildo on people other than myself, it's really hot. I get an idea of how a guy must feel. Not the essence perhaps, but a little teaser. Maybe in another life I'll be reborn as a cyborg-meta-human thing with a penis and a vagina, but till then. Dildo. Maybe vibrating.

You know how I'm all whacko anyway, and at some point, I think Rochelle was fondling my boobs and I started making up these sounds for them (all boobs make sounds when you squeeze them! What's wrong with yours? Meh.) She was pissing herself laughing (not literally, unfortunately - we're going to change the living room carpet anyway...). Sex is hot, and cute, and sexy, and ridiculous all at the same time. The best sort of sex is anyway. But you have see the ridiculous-cute side of it, ever. I have no idea how to make such a moment a filmic moment. :-/ Perhaps it's best not to try. It might just look stupid.

Then both of them started doing stuff to me, and for some reason I was so happy (probably all the endorphines from all that cuddling) and I came and I said, "My babies."

Oh my lord. :O

Flaming Mule

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 for overheating) across the driest place on earth (too much Top Gear lately)... W facebooked me a few days ago telling me they would be in the Hague, so we arranged to meet up for a drink or five. Turns out M's sister lived just across the street. Small world.

I always get a sense of "hey wow cool! Here you are all the way around the world!" Whenever I meet someone I knew from back in Sing. It's a small thrill, and I never get tired of it. This holds, even if I don't really know the person very well.

They looked very happy. They had the look of people on a great adventure after years of being pissed off at work; supposedly because they are. Who likes selling their lives for minimum wage, when you know you got the world for free... not.

It was a bit of a surreal night when they turned up. It was raining, and there was something about the light. Those IKEA paper lamps are great mood lighting. We sat around talking, and it was lovely because everyone warmed up quickly, and told stories of all the stange adventures they'd had. At some point, there was a blackout, and just to fit in with the adventure theme, Dani brought out the Flaming Mules. I don't think he knew what they were called before, but now they're called Flaming Mules (because they were talking about riding a mule up a 90 degree incline in Mongolia). There were a mixture of various creamy alcoholic substances lighted up with a hallucinogenic blue flame.

We'll be meeting up again in the fall. I'll still be here. :)

Brussel Sprouts.

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 temperatures. It's only a couple of days in the summer after all... we changed rooms the next night. Miss air-conditioned nation wouldn't stand for it.

We found a lovely wine shop with fantastic Sangria La Vinerie on Rue de l'Escalier . The guy was a funny sort of fellow with really big ears and skinny face, with a slight hunch in his back and a pleasantly weird disposition. "This Sangria, I made it last night, it's been marinating with the all the fruits and the spices... perfect... In the winter I make the hot wine, also perfect..."

Summer

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 that go up and down, and I'm still insecure about a lot of things, and simultaneously excited and afraid about the future. But life's like that isn't it. I think it swings between states of happiness and fear, satisfaction and laziness, pride and insecurity. Only non living systems stay in the same state permanently, until they are programmed to fall apart. If you're alive, and not under the influence of pharmaceuticals that claim to make you well, you're going to have to feel all those things.

And I still miss all my friends in Singers. I miss them all the time.

But he's got a beard.

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 found someone?
Me: Yeah. He's awesome. He takes good care of me and is intelligent and sexy, you'd like him.
Her (jokingly): Sexy? He's got a beard! And he looks like the devil in his Facebook profile.
Me: What does having a beard have got to do with anything? And he doesn't look like the devil. From some angles I think he looks like Jesus, like the ones they paint in the pictures they used to hang above the blackboard at school.
Her: Do you guys go to church?
Me: (thinking best not to say more than necessary) Uh, ha-ha... ... No.
Her: He's from where?
Me: Bosnia.
Her: Aren't they communist? Used to be part of Russia, no?
Me: No, they're socialist, they were never communist, and it was never part of Russia, although he can speak very good English with a strong Russian accent. (While thinking, must repress need to throw in Borat lines about sex in mouth.)

I also told her we've signed a cohabitation agreement when she asked me how serious I thought he was about me.

Pretty committed I'd say. ;-)

The Hardest Part, No Puns Intended.

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, etc.

Or because of what they are capable of making you into? That they are inspiring, and encouraging, and kind and complementary to your personality such that when you're with them, you feel your life is moving forward and they move along with you.

Or because you feel you give them a lot, and you feel you're appreciated and wanted, and needed.

Or because time and chance throws you in together with someone under the most peculiar circumstances and paves a road for you to take?

Fuck knows. I think at the end of the day, despite all of the above, the only way it can work is if you believe it. But it's the same with all the other great motivations in life (love, ideas, expression). You can know all the rules, and you can manufacture the perfect conditions in which to achieve them, but in order for them to happen, you must believe you are capable of achieving them. And that they seek you. And it's the believing in them seeking you, that is the hardest part.

I think at the end of the day, love is essentially a construct like a fine great arch, reaching into the sky. You don't know how it stands, or why it stands. But once upon a time, it was built with scaffolding that is no longer there. And after a time, it doesn't matter what the scaffolding was made off, or how safe or sturdy it was. The arch either stands, or it doesn't, and the idea is to keep it standing.

Away with thee cynicism.

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."

Tag you're it!

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 called Miss Pearly Chai and she was the best teacher ever. She read to us gigantic picture books in the garden and called me Machine Gun for talking non-stop. But I wasn't in love with her.

2. Is yours an examined life? If yes, did you find anything interesting?
Uh, probably. That we can only talk about the system from within? So we'll never get the full picture.

3. How high is the tallest mountain you have climbed, skied down, or tripped over (question for Singaporeans)?
Don't remember the name. Somewhere not in Singapore.

4. Speaking of storms, do you know, or DID you know, anyone who has been struck by lightning? Or indeed, by lighting?
No. But I know someone who peed on an electric fence and got a shock from it.

5. What do you like most about your job/studies/unemployment cheques?
Generally interesting.

6. Men: are you Miles or Jack? Women: are you Maya or Stephanie, Jack's fiancee or Miles' ex-wife? (You haven't seen Sideways? Why am I even talking to you?)
I think I'm somewhere between them. And I wouldn't have broken Jack's nose.

7. Would you rather write best-selling pulp genre fiction, or an art-house novel that confirms your towering genius but that not even your most sympathetic friends would read, except MAYBE under threat of torture? Trick question, eh what?
Best-selling pulp genre fiction. I wouldn't write anything I wouldn't read :P

8. Have you ever been on a cruise? On a ship I mean, not wearing leather and trying to pick up Mr Goodbar. If yes, did you fall in love on it, the cruise?
Yes and No.

9. Other than "I think, therefore I am", can you quote a major philosopher NOW? Without having to look one up? (Descartes doesn't count, he was a mathematician.) Please share your quote, if you have one. (I'm thinking, this is a wasted question.) No. The only quotes I remember are my own. And some Shakespeare ones.

10. Do you pay for an online newspaper? If so, which one? (If you are about to say The Straits Times, please leave this blog immediately.) No.

My Questions:

1. What is one novel that could define your life/ personality?

2. You're friends set you up on a blind date. The girl/guy turns out to be really cute and funny. Unfortunately s/he is a cripple, with prosthetic legs. They invite you back to their place 'for a night cap', would you?

3. Would you rather be a gear in a machine or some random swerving quantum particle?

4. The Flying Spaghetti Monster tells you that tonight, it will assassinate one political figure. This death will make things better for a lot of people. You get to choose the person. Who would it be? (and why?)

5. You've just been given a magic concert ticket. You're the only person in the audience, with any performer/s of your choice. What would the show be?

6. You get to look inside the head of one of your family members for a whole day, who would you pick?

7. If you could be in a film where you play yourself, what genre would the film be?

8. You're granted the ability to instantly learn how to do something really well. What would be it?

9. Where would you go to write your best-selling cult novel?

10. Pick one: Flying into outer-space, diving deep into the depths of the ocean, exploring the most beautiful caves, discovering a completely new island with absolutely unique life-forms... or make up your own.

I'm going to do the tagging on FB.

The Goblin.

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 when the muchies came on, Violet made a huge tray of pastries with Nutella in them. Apple also made some rather special tea. I don't like that stuff, so I didn't have any of it. There was a guy there however, called Randy, or something like it; He'd drunk half a keg of beer by then and smoked an entire plant, but was still dissatisfied with his lot at present, so he drank as much of the tea as he could. Including the dregs. At around 4 a.m. everybody passed out, done in by our glutton, except him.

The next morning, we woke up to a completely spotless house. Everything was cleaned. The ashtrays were emptied, the broken glass swept away, the dog pee mopped up, and Randy was still going at it. Apple asked him what the hell had happened to him, and he told her to calm down, and that everything was going just great. He had a moment that lasted for hours and hours, he was still at it, and he felt great.

"Don't you like it! I took care of everything. I even put the goblin in the closet." He said.
"You mean the garden gnome. But I don't remember ever seeing a garden gnome in Violet's backyard..." She told him.
"No, a goblin! I put it in the closet."

Apple went to the closet to take a look in it. You wouldn't believe what she found.

There was a little boy who obviously had Down's syndrome, scared out of his wits, curled in the corner of the closet.

(Everyone panicked, apparently he was the neighbor's son, so they had to bundle the boy up in the car with someone who didn't live in the same village and take him to the police station. We found out later that the boy was trying to tell the police throughout the whole ordeal that these nasty people had put him in the closet. But I suppose the story that he was found wandering around lost on the street was a little more plausible then a bunch of retards putting a harmless little boy into the closet because they thought he was a goblin...)

Naw... of course I made that up. The boy was really found wandering lost on the street...

Red Fruit Juice.

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 are people who love you and want to make sure you are OK (we all think of you as a 17 years old still, how fucking out of touch and paternalistic is that?)  and we have to have special inside info to gossip about...

Um... tedious? I don't think so. I don't think thinking nice things about him is tedious by any stretch...

So, he's from Bosnia, 12 years older -just perfect-, slightly under 2m tall, has copper brown hair that fall into fluffy ringlets just above his shoulders, and yellow eyes. He's as much of a body nazi as I am, but fortunately, or unfortunately likes drinking good booze.

He likes Herman Hesse, Checkov and Alan Moore. The other day we watched Luc Besson's Léon, and when we had our fight he said maybe it was like that with us. We're good together, but there was this sea of time between that couldn't be breached. (Which I whole-heartedly disagreed with... 12 years? Hah!) I know he'd most certainly like Dead Man, Wake in Fright and Vegemite.

He's a social liberal, fiscal conservative, mostly cocky, sometimes self-deprecating and pays a lot of attention to detail. I feel like he's my anchor and I'm his muse, and we have a good amphibious vehicle.

She's what we call "see-worthy." S-E-E. See with your eyes. I feel like my transport should be an extension of my personality. Voila. And this? This is like my little window to the world, and every minute it's a different show. Now, I may not understand it. I may not even necessarily agree with it. But I'll tell you what, I accept it and just sort of glide along. You want to keep things on an even keel I guess is what I'm saying. You want to go with the flow. The sea refuses no river. The idea is to remain in a state of constant departure while always arriving. Saves on introductions and good-byes. The ride does not require an explanation. Just occupants. - Waking Life

And he told his parents that I make him very happy, but also that I have the ability to hurt him very, very much. I don't want to hurt him. Ever. I cannot even bear to see him not smile at me every so often.

Oh, and he's really, really, kinky and cuddles me loads.

Alright, enough. You get the picture. Now I'm going to make a toast of anti-oxidant red-fruit juice to my cynical, sarcastic self.

Disagreeing.

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 it sounds kinda cheesy). Basically you can take a look at the answers of other people while comparing them to yours. Here are some important questions we disagreed on.

If you had to name your greatest motivation in life thus far, what would it be?

Love.

Knowledge. (Because no one can take it away from you.)

Serious relationships feel...

...Great!

...Like jail. (Well... my last serious relationship was with a rather insecure man who regularly assumed I was cheating on him, which I didn't. And I dislike the word serious. Committed or dedicated would be better. Look at it this way, the only thing I take seriously is not taking myself seriously. Nonetheless I'm still extremely committed and dedicated to myself.)

If you were in a serious relationship and you learned that your partner cheated on you one drunken night, could you forgive him/her?

Yes, if he/she was sincerely sorry.

I don't believe in monogamy. (Okay I gotta admit I was pretty hurt the times I found out I was cheated on, even when I knew what was going on. And I guess in my own way I never forgave him because I told myself then I could never take him seriously, ever... And I know I'm contradicting myself here...)

If you had to choose ONLY one, would you rather...

Have great love

Have great ideas (so I can jizz in my pants on my own thoughts.)

Do you believe in monogamy?

Yes

No (I like group sex too much. Personally I don't care if I ever sleep with another man again, but I'd like still like to have group sex.)

All that aside, if this is real, then we'll just have to agree to disagree... or compromise. ;-) 

King Without a Crown.

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 already there then there's nowhere to go
If you're cup's already full then its bound to overflow
If you're drowning in the water's and you can't stay afloat
Ask Hashem for mercy and he'll throw you a rope
You're looking for help from God you say he couldn't be found
Looking up to the sky and searchin' beneath the ground
Like a King without his Crown
Yes, I wanna get down
A King without his Crown
Yes, you keep fallin' down
You really want to live but can't get rid of your frown
Tried to reach unto the heights and wound bound down on the ground
Given up your pride and the you heard a sound
Out of night comes day and out of day comes light
Nullified to the One like sunlight in a ray,
Makin' room for his love and a fire gone.

I used to think I'd never find someone that would find me as attractive as I found him. What a tragic conclusion to come to at too early an age. Indeed. Well, no longer. :)

This is not flattery.

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 retarded type of guy I've been looking for. Those, in that particular combination, I've realized, are rare. He's also stylish, very neat, loves cooking and can probably kill someone with his bare hands if they'd tried to hurt me. (Well, he survived the war. And he was almost stabbed by some thug, once, which he then secured to a lamp-post. With a pair of hand-cuffs. The sort you get in the sex shop. The guy started crying and had to wait for the police to come free him.)

I know it's all been pretty fucking fast. But it does feel like I've climbed mountains (metaphorical ones since barely anything is above sea level in this foggy land) in the last few weeks, and the view is pretty clear up here.

I'm not particularly spiritual or superstitious, but when I think about how it all happened, I can't help but feel there was something external at hand making this happen. I mean, my life has been pretty random, but how did all this happen such that a girl from some tiny city-state halfway around the world get thrown in together with some guy from a country that doesn't exist any more in a fucking town-village in Holland. FFS.

For awhile there, I couldn't believe it all. I mean, it's been a pretty long time since someone actually held my hand everywhere (and I mean everywhere), kissed me passionately in public, and do other nice, lovely, warm things to me at random. Like pick me up from the train station when there was absolutely no necessity to , take a half day off from work at random to come see me sooner etc. I mean, maybe if he was some plain, needy, boring guy, maybe. I wouldn't be surprised then. Heh. But his ex-girlfriend list is something that would make a lot of other people jealous, for sure. I've seen their photos, they're hot as hell and probably very intelligent to boot.

He went on the tram the other day with the neighbor upstairs (Greg, who's a lovely Irish guy that has cute, awkward way of moving and opening his eyes really big when he's trying to make a point) They were speaking in English, and there were some chicks that got into the same tram cart as they did, and one of the girls who sat right across him checked him out and told her friend in Dutch that "The night is getting off to a good start". The funny thing was it happened right after we had a 'fight'. You can just imagine; so you have a fight with your girlfriend and some random cute chick on the tram basically says to your face that your hot. I thought that was funny anyway. And I did think he looked pretty hot that night, fight or no.

Anyway, enough of flattering myself on what a lovely one I caught... indeed.

Music in the Ionosphere.

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 through the provided headphones. It was the music of the ionosphere being relayed through to us. I thought it was all rather lovely in the end. Being on this hill under the stars in the mist listening to static and drinking wine.

When we got back, I was just about ready to pass out when he asked me a rather peculiar question that was really a trick question, but never mind. I gave a rotten answer and all hell broke loose. We got into a fantastic argument, it was rather heated if you ask me (for my standards). We didn't manage to go to bed till well after dawn. He's really passionate. Funny, but that wasn't one of the things on my list for what I required in a lover. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really hated how it usually made everything intense and complicated and painful. But he is, and I'm glad for it. Somehow he's managed to make me think about a great deal of stuff I never really bothered with before.

The funny thing is every time after we have one of these phenomenal break-ups (they're quite exciting, he can get quite mad, while I'm always trying very hard to not to let any of it touch me) I feel him a little more. Little might be an understatement actually. There was one point where he said he wished he could do something to get a reaction out of me before he reached out and grabbed my face. I knew he wouldn't ever hurt me, but some sick part of me secretly found it rather exciting. 


The conflict has been resolved (thank god) and things are lovely again. I don't think I could bear to lose him. He's the best thing that's come my way, he loves me so much and I can see how happy he is to be with me. Which means a lot to me. But of course.

Sand and Mist.

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 Amsterdam (after seeing the Gotan Project live; they're very entertaining, although sober Dutch audiences are painfully boring). I thought it was all over that night, he was so upset and angry I didn't know what to do. I don't want to talk about the reason for the fight because it's too complicated and nuanced and I'm not a post-modern philosopher, so fuck it. All I remember was thinking how I never wanted anyone to stop being angry with me more then I did then.

The next day, I couldn't get out of bed till well past noon, when he came and asked me if I wanted coffee. He told me he wasn't angry anymore, but that we couldn't be together because we were too different. I always keep hurt behind a wall of nonchalance if I feel there's no more I can do about it, and no reason to talk about it. He mentioned the attitude, and I explained it. Firstly, what could I do? Secondly, secretly I'm a little religious in my belief that things always happen for a reason. (I'm referring to things within our control, famine for example happens because shit happens.) And when life throws you lemons, the best you can do is make lemonade. Yes, I got that off a card someone once gave me for my birthday.

The weather was lovely, so we decided to go to the beach. It stayed lovely till we got to the beach, where all of a sudden a great mist descended upon the dunes, and an awful cold wind started blowing towards the sea. I thought, "How apt, the Dutch weather never fails to read my moods." Strangely enough, the sand was warm, and when I lay down in it, the wind did not touch my face.

I lay there in the sand feeling the wind brush against the tip of my nose, and it felt like I was in a cocoon of wind and mist. And in my head I was thinking about it all. Why am I here, what do I want to do, and most of all, what really mattered.


On my list, Dani is everything I've ever wanted in a guy. He's annoyingly intelligent, lovely to look at, arty, pretty experimental, responsible, neat, kind, hygienic, floppy hair, good bone structure etc. you get the idea. (Oh and the war, I've got to mention the bit about surviving one of the most tedious wars in the last decade) But until that day at the beach, I never thoroughly thought about how I really felt about him. Knowing he was what I wanted was one thing, and actually feeling it, I guess, was quite another.

I mean of course I totally had the hots for him, and I was charmed and all of that, but for some reason it was only that afternoon while I was lying in the sand in my little cocoon that I actually felt and knew he wasn't kidding when he said he was in love with me. There's knowing, and there's comprehending.

All along, since I arrived, there was always this guilt I felt while being with him. Part of me was constantly telling myself I didn't come to Europe for a romance, I came here to find a job and make a life. Then it occurred to me that maybe I got the order wrong, and that I was a fucking fool, because there are plenty of jobs out there but there's only one of him, and there's only this one moment right now that I have, for me.

I guess part of me always felt like he was a cop out on my part. Like, I was taking the easy way out by letting him take care of me. I don't deny that it's preferable to being single and alone, but then I still can't help but feel I pussied out. Then when it seemed as if we were done for good, I started to think about it all, and how, even if I'd met him in Sing, I'd probably still feel the same about him anyway.

I boiled it all down to this test I call "The One Who Got Away". You know the person you had feelings for sometime in the past and then for whatever reason never got with or broke up with, and, years later you find yourself thinking about them, and wondering "what if?" That's the test. And I thought then (or maybe I did think it before or slightly after, I don't remember) that he wasn't going to be the one who got away. 

Bologna Blues

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 Bologna (apart from the lovely company) is the food.The Fix has been cooking non stop, and who can fault him? He even makes preparing food at 6 in the morning look fun. Especially while he was stuffing the roll of pork he swore felt like stuffing a Tenga Egg.

I forgot all about Mother's Day, and my brother's birthday to boot; but then I almost forgot mine anyway. I almost forgot to celebrate and and I did my best not to remember it, especially after that last bit of champange where my boobs fell out of my dress across a halal restaurant. But at least I wrote her an email telling her about how things are going over here. Not too bad, that's for sure. She'll be glad to hear. I wonder sometimes if my parents read my blog, maybe my father, but he seems intent on knowing as little about me as possible for fear perhaps, of being even more disappointed.

I do wish I communicated more with people I don't see that often, but it's not in my nature to bother. If they don't reply, I always feel rejected, so best keep that at bay, eh. I'm kind of mute when it comes to telling people how much I appreciate them, and I wish I wasn't.

But I'm thinking about you. You know it.

Anyone wants some fresh cheese from Tamburini's?

Madonna in Venice.

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 backpacking and kind-of alone. Minus the crazy writer guy I picked up from some random bar, man that was weird, on the second night hanging out we fucked in front of a statue of the Madonna. Gah.

I was making a sketch of some random scene in the city when Chris and co. came out of the Doge's palace. We started talking about architectural drawings, and he mentioned a friend of his called Paul Madonna who made a living out of drawing architecture. Then he showed me his website, and... you know the funny thing is, I have Paul Madonna's book, All Over Coffee, and I love his work. Anyway, Chris told me they were friends and he's got a couple of Madonna's painting in his flat, and his apartment in San Francisco was actually featured in the book. How cool is that :D

All Very Subtle.

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 dirty with a friend, but me being me (especially since I haven't been in any sort of relationship that was vaguely serious) it kinda... just happened. Part of the misunderstanding was over the difference between an open relationship and a poly-amorous one. To cut a long story short, he basically put it to me that going out on my own and just doing as I pleased with other people, regardless of gender, without considering that maybe someone that cared would get hurt by it, was not wholly fair. He does have a point.

At any rate, I told him I didn't really care about fucking other people. It's fun for me, but it's not necessary. Then I told him that sometimes, I get quite physically into other people (i.e. I like touching them) I won't say it's wholly non-sexual, but sex is not the point. It's more of a gesture to make someone else, and myself, feel appreciated. And he said that was not a problem, the actual physical act alone is not the problem; the problem only happens in a certain combination of sexual and emotional infidelity which is different for everyone (that was how I interpreted it at least).

It's all very subtle I think. Anyway I must to bed now.

In response to the comment from yesterday.

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 some sort or other, to avoid shattering the fragile male ego, and every situation must be discussed and assessed on it's merits.

See? With a few simple rules, it works perfectly!

Answer:

From thisisindexed.com

On a more serious note, I don't agree with the comment at all. Some assholes might be like that, but in that case, why ever propose an open relationship? Just find a scared little girl and cheat on her as you please in that case.

Apologies and plans.

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. Ruiter was so worried at some point he grabbed me and threw a plastic sheet over my head telling me I'd better watch out before I caught hypothermia.

Dan and I got into a big row for 24 hours after I got back because of some grievous misunderstanding, and there was this scene that seemed like something out of a tragi-comic dramady where he threw a box of condoms at me at a cafe and I threw it back to him and um... we threw it about for a bit in a cafe where everyone was watching. They must have thought we were nuts, and I guess we were. Anyway it was all this horrid misunderstanding over what an open relationship was, but it's all cleared up now. All I can say is that well... I guess I can be less selfish and think about how other people feel. For once. Although I think I do that most of the time, only... from my point of view. But I never really thought about my point of view very clearly before.

I'll be in Bologna with the Fix in a few days, we're going to have a nice time eating more good food that I don't deserve and escaping this infernal Dutch weather. Then I'll be going to Breda for a graphic design festival. I might even call in a favour from this Dutch guy I let couch surf at some point. Karma man. Funny how things pan out. :P

Facebook bullocks.

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

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

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 browse through his music while he looked for it. At some point I got this bizarre feeling he was playing some kind of weird joke on me, or keep my stuff to get me to come back or something. I can't assume I know what his motives were, or that it wasn't a genuine mistake, but when he found my stuff, it was in a corner of the flat I'd never gone near. I didn't get it at all. He says he was genuinely being muddle headed, but somehow I just don't believe him.

Anyway! It's Queen's night tomorrow, I'll be heading out with Ruiter for a big party. We were out last week when he got a call from someone saying they were from the "Organization of the desperate pigs". He thought it was a joke at first, but it turns out that they want him to do an infographic with their data on how the welfare of farmed pigs have improved over the last decades. Ruiter says he's too damn busy, but I told him I'd help him with it, if he'd do the consulting. I'm going to try and push for it. It'll be nice to 'get out there'.

I finally booked the trip to Balogna. I fucked it up the first time around, so I now have two bookings. What an idiot! Luckily tickets are 3 Euros from Brussels to Balogna. It's the coach from Amsterdam to Brussels that's expensive. Kind of. Somehow I always manage to fuck my travel bookings up. I don't know why. I always fuck any sort of administrative stuff up. I've never been any good at filing and keeping dates in my head and all of that, I just can't. It's a wonder. I'm so good at some things and so miserably useless at others. :(

Fear or Laziness.

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 on at this pace.

To be brutally honest to myself, I feel I've been giving me far too many excuses to be lazy. I know what I want to do, and I really need to do it, one thing at a time. Usually, guys don't say jackshit when they come. Maybe they make a face, or say my name, or slap me int he face if I slap them first, but there was just this once where Mr. X whispered right after we made love, "you think the prison is without, but it's in you."

I wasn't offended, I just felt slightly afraid. If, and when, we fail, I know it to be all of our own making. All attractive women can't help but use their charms sometimes to make their life easier, I do it all the time, I can't help it. I mean, of course I don't waste my time on men that I feel don't contribute anything to the way I think and see the world etc. But somewhere inside I'm shit scared of falling into that trap. You know. The one where an intelligent, beautiful girl with loads of potential becomes an ordinary, ordinary woman. *Shudder* I cannot stand laziness, and I cannot stand falling short, and I cannot stand being deluded... and I cannot stand it when I see these thing glimmering in myself.

Fucking nerds.

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 can still be said for their social skills, sometimes. But I don't have a problem with that, in fact I find it kind of cute. Most-times.

I thought Devlyn was pretty (nice curly hair, big eyes :-O) and fit. He's also working on a pHD on the simulation of the present universe, within a large margin of error. Maybe I find topics I understand nothing about fascinating because it's so far out there for me I can't really tell what's theory based on sanity and what's fiction made to look like fact. Does that make sense?

It was funny to meet him. It was a lot of laughs (I think I'm funnier with people I don't know that well because I actually make an effort to say more bullshit than usual) but it was also funny because that forum (called fantasy-freak of all things...) was where I spent most of my free time during that part of my life, so I reckon it had some effect on the growing up process. I was really involved in it, everyone in it was. It was one of those forums people met other people on and got into relationships with. Some even got married.

I actually quite liked talking about all these people I hadn't met (that Devlyn had) but felt like I knew. I remember quite a few of them. Like the guy that was perpetually stoned who was probably never laid (he must have gotten laid by now...) and other assorted weirdos.

Then there was the fantasy-freak journal. Oh my god. It was my idea. There were a few artsy/crafty people on the site right, and this was a decade ago when the world wasn't as 'small' as it is now (it definitely seemed a lot bigger to me especially since I was fucking 15 years old). So I had this idea to send 'round this journal to everyone on the forum, and everyone could put something in it. Just for fun, so we would feel somehow more connected. Whatever. I thought it was a sweet idea.

At some point, it got lost in Holland. Ugh. The Dutch. So organized, yet so not. It went all around from Singapore, to Down Under to god knows where, and it got stuck in Holland with the forum admins. I asked D about it and he said it was still with the couple that used to run the site. I guess I'll meet them someday soon.

Ah, small world :o) No more LOTR extended version for me. I think my head's spinning after 12 hours in 2 days, including bonus CDs and all. -_-"

A Chance in Spring

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 genuinely wanting to develop this relationship further. I don't know why, it just feels like it'll be worth it. The fact that he's poly-amourous and shared the same sentiment as I do about multiple partners probably has something to do with making me more open to the idea. To other people it might seem like an unwillingness to commit, perhaps it is that, but from my vantage point, I see it as being able to let go of a petty, negative feeling. But I won't go on about it.

We went for a walk on the beach, and hung out at one of the seasonal bars, attempting to get a semblance of a tan. He met one of his colleagues there that mentioned a job managing the photodesk of the organization he works for in New York. After that, while we were walking back, he asked me of I'd come to New York with him. I know it was only half serious, and anyway, even if he were to do it, it's still a year or two away, and many things can change in a few months. But I thought it was funny how quickly he was, and I was, starting to entertain such thoughts.

I always have a good measure of skepticism towards these things not because I'm afraid of having my heart broken or anything like that, I mean, your heart can get broken by someone there was not ever a chance of anything beyond sex after midnight and home before dawn; so that's not the point. I'm skeptical because you can't predict what's going to happen, and even though there are ways of guiding you life the way you want it to go, I'd say half of it was still due to chance and fate.

PITA.

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, legally, in Holland. In order to be working legally here, I need a work permit. Right. I guess this means I need to find a real job, which is just about impossible in 2 months, in this economic climate.

My other plan is to try and find an artist residency in Europe. That might work. 

I'll Wear Your Clothes to Sleep, Baby.

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 there when I turned up. They're both arty, stoner types, so I felt quite at home. They immediately launched into a discussion of ancient Mayan temples, of which believe me, I have no clue. Only that they predict the world would end in 2012, if I remember my movie advertising correctly.

All the time I was there initially, I was looking for my cardigan. I could have just asked, but the guys were really into whatever they were talking about that I couldn't be bothered. Plus, I was also trying to see if I could find it myself in the mess. I finally saw it poking out from under the sheets on the chaise lounge. I thought to myself, "That's weird, if it's there, and it's got all this other random sheets and things piled on it where did he sleep then?" Then it occurred to me that maybe he'd slept on the cardigan. He did admit that he liked the smell of my fabric softener. Only I hadn't washed that cardigan for months. God knows.

His neighbour left and then he made the admission that he'd slept on the cardigan. I told him I guessed it. Then he told me he'd let two other people smell it. I was really surprised. It's kinda flattering, in a really weird, wtf way. But hey, I'm one to say. I've did steal this t-shirt from this guy once; we were at a small party and he was kinda cute and (I had a suspicion) gay, and really fucking funny, and it was a little chilly at the party so I borrowed his shirt and basically never returned it. And when I had the shirt, every time I worse it, I'd think about him. It smelled good too. I used to have this whole vast collection of shirts I'd taken from men I'd had something for. They're all at the parentals now. My sister wears them to sleep too. So what Mark did was a bit weird, but I get it. You know. :P

Psycho-child Strikes Again!

(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 was so worth it. The band members + makeup girls were such lovely, high-energy people. They were always cheerful, and most importantly, they didn't dick around on set. I've been in a hell lot of shoots where there was plenty of dicking around... and before you know it, it's 3 in the morning and I'm really reconsidering the wisdom of my actions for somehow ending up on set with a bunch of irritating half-wits.

In case you're wondering, I didn't get to spit whiskey in the lead singer's mouth (too complicated, not enough time), but I did get the opportunity to try and attempt a kiss. All through-out the shoot, I harboured a suspicion that Dan had somehow been inspired by the whole MGM saga. My part in the video, which involved four outlandish costume changes, (One with a blonde wig and blue lips, another with a red wig and me in a large shirt turned into a dress that still looked like a sheet no matter how I wore it) involved multiple versions of me in the bar attempting to grab the lead singer's attention. From drinking his whiskey to pulling his hair and dumping his guitar on the ground. It was a story of un-reciprocated love and one very frustrated psycho child.

I was telling everyone how this would basically be the number nth film where someone requested I play the role of psycho child. Either people look at me and think "Perfect for psycho child role!" or they offer me a role and I interpret whatever it is into the psycho child role once again. That said, I actually love playing psycho child role. I don't have many years left on me where I can still attempt this role, so I best make the most of them I guess :P

Around 8pm a bunch of extras showed up and there was this girl who arrived with her chihuahua. She started flirting with Dan while he was working. He got annoyed, ignored her, and then said to her (when she still persisted in her attempts) "I'm too old for you". Great line. Some girls unfortunately find that sort of statement a challenge and a turn-on, so I don't know if it was the best thing to say to get rid of a chick.

I'll try and post some stills later. There's all this images I need to get up, but most of them need to be processed first. And unfortunately there is no way in hell you'll ever get to see pics of Rochelle, so a great deal of photos from that night won't be coming up I'm afraid :-/

We're all Professionals.

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 random collection of photos that includes naked hot girls with too much eye-makeup, shots of abandoned architecture (or something to that effect) and massive crowds of people in all states of ecstasy (rock concerts and such). A month ago he'd asked Rochelle if she'd like to model for him, and she said she'd do it, if he also made her pictures she could use for her fetish modeling portfolio.


I have no idea what my part was to be in all of this, but Dan asked me to go put on the one piece of lingerie I brought here (a luxury on economy baggage allowance, I really couldn't afford that extra few grams), a pile of makeup and my scarlet heels and join them. So I did. There were some nice fun shots I'll post later as long as R's face isn't in them because she's planning on being a world renowned -insert respectable occupation here- whereas I'm planning to stick to my path of insanity as a means to reach ever greater artistic heights... so photos that are good for my reputation aren't necessarily good for hers.

So we did the typical girl on girl thing. You know. The thing two horny chicks would do to each other, especially if there's a cute guy in the room taking photos of them. In a short amount of time (after enough photos were taken) the camera was abandoned and the hot making-out started.

I have to say it was probably the best threesome ever. Firstly because we were all really comfortable with each other. Similar levels of self-confidence and attractiveness definitely helps. Most of the time, threesomes can get a wee tedious because one other person is usually less secure about her/his self, and I usually feel it in my place to reassure them that they're great. Or something. Wtf, I just want to do what I want to do when I'm having sex, not worrying about someone's ego. Bah.

Rochelle is probably the best girl I've been with in ages. She was really into it, and she was 100% sober. Dan was great too, for starters, he wasn't pushing the situation in any direction, and he knew what to do. Most guys usually don't know what to do, or feel this overwhelming need to push girls around get them to do stuff. Sometimes that can be fun but not on the first night when three people get together. I mean, hell, sometimes it can get to the point where I want to yell "stop shoving my face into her cunt, maybe I don't like the way it tastes, dude."

I was so turned on watching them. I really enjoyed it. It's kind of peculiar watching someone you're into make out with another girl; One of the things I love about it is seeing how that person can truly enjoy kisses and sex and love with another person. People like to think that their partners can only kiss them or love them or fuck them with a passion exclusive to them, but it's not true. Somewhere out there there is someone else (or several) that he is equally as capable of feeling as passionate about. And I like the feeling of knowing that by seeing it happen. It's fascinating because you see a part of that person that you don't normally see, from a different view, probably with a bit of a twist.

A lot of threesomes I've been in happened because someone thought, what the hell, let's do it for the sake of it. I know I've been guilty of that. But last night just kinda happened because he was attracted to her. I mean, of course these things happen because people are attracted to each other, but a lot of the time, imho, they happen because of the need to have it for the sake of having it, or to force some poor girl into it, or to pleasantly surprise the guy at hand, or because I'm horny and want to have sex with my girlfriend's fuck buddy... and a host of other less noble motivations... well it wasn't like that. They were obviously hot for each other, not just physically, it was a genuine thing, and I liked that.

For some reason I just have this hilarious image in my head where he's eating her out and I'm jilling off beside them and just as I have this massive orgasm which has taken me so long to achieve, I yell "I think this is the beginning of a promising relationship!"

Anti-depressents not good, sense of mounting panic...

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 reason too.

I'm finally getting my ass in gear and working on my website. People keep telling me my work's good, and I'm smart, but really, I don't got no idea where I'm going to go with it. I always feel inadequate, which is not an optimum state of mind if you're to forge on and convince other people you're any good at all. Dear me.

Dan, in a state of temporary insanity asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend, or something to that effect. It's a jolly good thing he made a disclaimer early on that he doesn't take anything said when drunk and/or in the heat of passion very seriously. Hell, no one's ever asked me to be their girlfriend. Okay, there was one boy, I was 14, and he was trying to get into my pants. Apparently that's how he thought he'd get laid at that age, by promising me commitment. Heh. Obviously he thought wrong. I told Dan we could be partners. Of a sort. In a way. Whatever.

It's been 2 weeks of bumming around now. Dan's great, loads of fun, possibly one of the all round best guys I've dated. He's really tall, sexy and looks like Jesus. Plus he's taught me how to cook and he does funky arty things.

But seriously! I will go bat shit crazy in this town if I don't get a job soon. I like The Hague, my friends are here... But I want to live in Amsterdam or you know. A big fucking European city that stinks of sewers choke full of beer piss and coke after the weekend with strip clubs and big museums and 24/7 clubbing and crazy people on the street. Etc.

However, summer will be here soon and then it's all fucked because every single European (including me) will be hanging out in some field off our tits on a campsite. Lord knows what will get done. :-/ The plan right now is Bologna in May and Berlin late June. So looking forward to seeing Frans, who is this sweet-hearted, hilarious Finn. I will have to do a visa run after that. Dan suggested 'an exotic adventure to Bosnia' (I imagine he was being a little bit sarcastic...) Sounds good to me. It's probably cheap ass from Berlin on some cheap ass 'Central European' airline.

First Pleasant Day.

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.

Suspicious Tram Stop.

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. Something a stewardess told me while I was having cold shivers and felt like dying on the plane here from Singers.

By the time I came home, it was 5 the next day. The creepy thing is... I walked a good way because I felt like a walk, before deciding to hop on a tram. After a certain amount of stations had passed, I realized I had in fact taken the tram in the wrong direction, and that I had walked all the way back to the tram stop I had meant to get off at. Just that, things kind of looked different when you get to the stop from a different end of the street. Totally disoriented.

Lounging About.

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 and Firefly. I guess I can blame it on the awful weather the last weeks; didn't really make you feel like you wanted to go out an do much of anything.

Plus it was also much easier to just hang out with a cute guy that sorted everything out and tell myself it was orientation week. :P It's been ages since I lived with someone I was sleeping with, and I must say it's not a bad idea if you've just decided to move to another continent to go and stay with some guy you met on the internet. I think the first week would have been a lot harder emotionally if I hadn't. That he's cute and well-adjusted and an all round sweetheart is of course a big part of it. I think I'm quite lucky when it comes to not getting stranded with assholes (I wouldn't let it happen anyway, see right through 'em)


I've got a couple more weeks at Dan's place before his parents come and stay for a month or so. I guess I'm going to plan May hanging around in Bologna with the Fixer, working on my novel, which I really want to finish. It's all schizophrenic at the moment, but I guess the main thing now is to get the story out and the style pinned down.

Things have been pretty calm, some might say boring. It's just me and Dan watching DVDs, drinking far too much and having very civilized breakfasts, interspersed with random bouts of sex when I basically use him for my personal gratification... But they'll pick up next week when I start going to the art collective (which I have a suspicion might be a squat that the boys have just taken over and turned into a workshop) and meeting more people. Need to find trade shows and fairs and workshops and shit. Need, need, need.

Kinkster in Amsterdam.

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, who was this Suriname-Dutch fetish model currently living with her boyfriend in the poshest hotel in the city. She turned up in the shortest skirt I'd seen all week, killer heels and bright red lipstick. We went to some bar off the tourist track, and had non-stop whiskeys and tequilas.

I like Rochelle. She was cool and unpretentious and smart and (new word I learned) a Kinkster. Just to clear the record, I'm not really a Kinkster. I guess I used to be, but these days, it's not something I'm actively looking for. Although I won't reject the possibility for kinky sex, if the mood hits me. I guess. Anyway, looks like this might be sooner rather than later, especially if Rochelle comes over for dinner next Tuesday (which she most certainly will now since she's put it in her diary... you know, the one that all Dutch women have. It doesn't matter how trashed they are, if you make an appointment with them and they take it seriously, the diary will come out. If they are doubly serious, they'll also record it in their phone).

At some point, I asked her when did she start getting into the fetish scene, and I think the answer basically was, when she started having sex. Then she went on to say that however, she was born kinky. She always knew she leaned a certain way. One early benchmark was how she used to torture her Barbie dolls. That got me. I used to torture my Barbie dolls, but I never bothered to tell anyone before. There just never was quite a time, place or person to confide such a thing, until yesterday.

Then she started talking about getting fisted. To be honest, that is one thing I have never, ever fantasized about. Gabriel had told me (jokingly of course!) it was a great way to get a girl to fall utterly in love with you. If you do the unexpected, like fist rape her, the shock would do something to her brain that would make her go crazy for you after. Um... right. Rochelle then told me she would cut her nails before next Tuesday so we could attempt this. :-O  Well! If the mood is right, I'd be willing to try most things once. However, we all agreed that the line had to be drawn at scat.


Surreal enough for a first trip to Amsterdam, if you ask me. If her boyfriend who joined us later had been more partial to it, I'd have gladly taken the whole show back to the hotel.

I'm going back there this weekend for a concert Dan (the sweetheart!) has planned way in advance (The Gotan Project is playing this weekend I think, or was it Florence? I can't remember), and then I'll be back there again next week to meet a fellow Fantasy- Freak. I tried to look up Hackerspaces, bar-camps and other similar things here, but I think Holland has so much weird shit going on locally that it's probably not necessary and a bit pointless for me to try and look these things up.

Dare I Dream of Sanity with You.

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 lovely to see him again after 3 years; he's still the same sweet, friendly, messy, curious, god-damned in your face blunt boy I met in Budapest.

I'm going to get my shit sorted out this week. Dan (kinda sexy-cute Yugoslavian guy who claims he's bi-sexual, about twice my height and into experimental everything) is going to shoot a music video this weekend and I've offered to do the animation for it (shot on DV and rotoscoped). His stuff is actually really good, and I'm looking forward to contributing to the next two videos. (The first one involves me doing some psychedelic animation in trippy colours and the other with me in American McGee Alice like outfits vomitting whiskey into this over tattooed, over pierced guy).

He's been a total sweetheart. And it's awesome he's so metro. I wouldn't use that term normally, in fact I've never used it with any guy I know prior, but he's the genuine article. He's got everything a girl needs, and more. The whole "I grew up during the war where guys have tried to kill me with a carving knife and we went to parties where everyone was enlisted and waved guns at each other while fucked off our heads"paired with the whole metro thing as well kinda works. Throw in his UN gig, and it's like, what the fuck, it was a bit of serious luck I got to meet him not-quite-so randomly, really.

I'm pleased with the situation and I feel as if the cosmic will is looking over me; I don't want to speak too soon, and I still have to work out my legal situation here, but I think I should be able to cobble something together before my visa expires. Right now I can afford it, I'm happy to do some more random art projects with people that know more of what they are doing then I do, and ride along those rails.

I still miss Singapore a great deal, and Andrew in particular. Last weekend still hangs over me like a crazy, off your tits kinda dream (which was what it was). I get these strange moments where I just blank out and stare at the ceiling re-imagining the madness that is Bangkok. The street stalls, the desperation, the dirt, all of that crazy, gritty, real shit. The Hague is soooo calm and way too posh for my liking. I need grit and dirt and a whole load of rough on the edges. But we'll see what happens.

Phantomwise, if it were so.

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 stared at the ceiling and thought about him.

It was late in the morning, and Dan came to my side and sat up beside me and we talked about... stuff. Actually he asked me if I was alright, to which I said I was fine, but of course I wasn't. I felt terribly homesick. We sat about in silence for awhile, and then he said, "I think Andrew misses you". I was like "O.O, how do you know?" He told me "Facebook." I went to check it, and Andrew had left me this post on my wall:

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The... hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Izzymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

And I started crying. I don't know since when I got like that, before 2010, I almost never cried. But I also never cared. If you keep telling yourself everyone else is a selfish bastard, and no one cares, then you can avoid crying. But the last couple of years have proven to me that people do care, and that there was nothing wrong with feeling empty, and nostalgic, and like you were missing something, and that there are awesome people in your life that you miss...

I replied with an adaptation of Lewis Carroll's Epilogue of Through the Looking Glass. Being me (I love ambiguous endings with a predisposition towards a positive interpretation) I twisted it from this sad thing to something a little more cheerful :o)

A boat, beneath the April sky
Lingering onward dreamily,
In the evening of goodbye.

Soon will dawn that sunny sky;
And echoes linger though memories die;
The summer rains will bring July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Past shadows moving under skies
Under lids of our slumbering eyes,

And in a Wonderland we lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as April passes by,

Ever drifting down the stream,
Lingering in the golden gleam,
Lives that stretch forth along parallel themes.  

In any case, I was talking to Andrew and trying to persuade him to come to Balogna in May, when the Fixer will be there hanging around his friend's place and I will go and visit just because I can and it will cost 29 Euros, and he said "Aren't we going to go to Malkom in July?"

De-compressing, Re-adjusting.

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 out for the best eventually. 

Avedon picked me up from the airport after many delays and flight cancellations. It was nice to see him again, although when I met him, the time I had know him in Singapore felt like a whole universe away. That was then, and this is now, and the paths will never cross, I feel and know this much. I dropped my things off at the place I was kindly loaned and went to meet Dan. 

He's this artist/photographer guy I got to know sometime back; he's from the former Yugoslavia (who grew up during the war) working for the UN. He's been really kind, and I'm glad he's here to help me re-adjust. It's people like him that make me feel that there's something out there watching after me and making all my landings from my crazy impulses a lot less painful.

At some point this weekend I will go and meet Ruiter and check his art collective out. Then Dan and I are going to Amsterdam and Belgium next week and meet some of his artist friends etc. and eat sugary desserts and chocolates, meet his other romantic interest etc, and then I'll start hanging out at the art collective and work on my portfolio. Hopefully in 4-5 weeks, things will sort themselves out and I will start getting some freelance work.

Chatting to Andrew on facebook; I'm really hoping things will start looking brighter for him soon. It was lovely to hear that him say that I was very good for him and helped him more than I probably know. Sure it's nice to know you did some good for someone, even though you don't know exactly how, but also what he said kind of implied that things are going to change for the better ;-)

Going to some Irish concert thing tonight :P

Love on you. X

No Exit

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 though.

Saturday and Sunday were pretty cool, and it was awesome to be in the depravity that is Bangkok, but Monday really hit the spot.

At about 8 in the morning, while I was hitting on him again, despite the fact that I'd told myself never to do it again (and of course you always do), something happened and the tables turned. All of a sudden, it was as if a switch had flipped and he became determined that we should have sex and get it over and done with. I was up for it of course, but tbh it was not the way I planned for it to be. It's always a bad idea to try and compel someone into having sex with you especially if they say no and give very good reasons for why they don't want to/ can't do it.

Anyway, it had its moments, and I'm glad it happened because in a fucked up way, it's cleared some things up in my head. Things I already knew before (because he had told me) but it was one thing to know, and another to understand.

We had a chat about it later, and he mentioned that he was a little surprised at the way I reacted when he suddenly came onto me. I think I was a bit frightened when it happened actually, because I hadn't plan for it to, and definitely not in the way he went about it. He always warned me though, and I knew shouldn't have pushed the situation, but I did.

After that, Gia, a romantic interest of his from once upon a time, a documentary producer that had worked all over the world who was loud, forceful and a tad obnoxious turned up to help us film. He was slightly wary of the idea of leaving her alone with me, so he called the Fixer to come over as he had to go and deal with some other things.

I had no idea why he was worried about leaving Gia alone with me, but I found out soon later that once we started going down the rabbit hole, she wasn't all that easy to deal with. Mostly because she didn't stop talking, and there was no way to get her to do so. Not like it was a horrible thing, but after 6 hours of non-stop chatter, I was just about going crazy.

So it was just Gia, The Fixer and myself going down the hole in the hotel room, making a nuclear bomb size dent in the mini-bar and hearing Gia talk. At about 7 p.m. I realized we (Andrew and I) were pretty much fucked and there was no way we could get to the airport in time. I started panicking but Gia fixed it by postponing the flight (I didn't have a laptop, and had no flight details, and she had to get the concierge to do it).

I started getting anxious over Andrew, although I knew it was ridiculous, and just sat there at the end of the hole feeling unnecessarily paranoid and thinking about all the possible situations that could have happened to delay his return. And as usual, things got from bad to worse, and his phone died on him so he became completely un-contactable.

Then... it started poring. It was one of those electric, torrential, storms.

Eventually he turned up. He made it back to the hotel just before the storm started. I felt really bad for him.There was no way we were going to make the next plane, so we had to stay another night.

Both Gia and him got into an argument where I think she felt under-appreciated for her help in changing the tickets because he wanted to buy seats on a different airline to get back out that night itself, instead of the next morning. It was the first time I'd actually seen him seriously pissed off. But it had been a really stressful day and he didn't need any more shit flung at him. Anyway things calmed down shortly. But he kept on telling me how fucked up and depressing everything had become, and how horrible it all was.

At some point in the day, he'd even sent me a message that said  "I don't  know what it is about this city, but it always spits me out broken and sad at the end of a visit. I never leave feeling better than when I arrived."

Things just got more fucked, and by the end of the night, it was like something out of a bad movie. There were empty bottles of alcohol everywhere, broken glass on the balcony, spilled beer on the carpet, used tissues (nothing to do with sex or masturbation) strewn all over the place.

And at one point, something really strange happened.

Gia was talking non-stop at one end of the room, and Andrew was lying on the bed on the other end. Then he took out his iPhone and started playing "Humans" by the Killers on it. And he started dancing. Horizontally. On the bed. I'd seen him do it the night before and thought it was kind of weird and hilarious, but it was in a more private setting with just me and him so I suppose I found it more funny than weird. But this time, there were other people in the room. And Gia had this look of shock and reprehension on her face and the Fixer also had a "what the fuck" look about him, and I wasn't ready for it so it also took me by surprise.

At some point I contemplated joining him and jumping about on the bed, but 2 things prevented me from doing so. 1. We hadn't talked about the morning in any significant way yet, so there was this slightly uncomfortable thing, on my part, that was hovering between us. It wasn't a big thing and once we talked about it (after the other two went away) everything got back to usual. 2. The other two made me feel slightly uncomfortable, which I guess is lame because I'm always like, who gives a fuck right? Apparently I do more than he does.

Or, perhaps we all just have a different sense of humour from each other. Although I don't think that's totally true because I still can't stop laughing out loud thinking about the horizontal dancing on one end and the machine gun going off on the other.

I swear to god, that was the climax of the weekend. You can not begin to imagine how fucked up everything look. If you factor in the storm, it was epic.

Since the incident on Saturday where I basically passed out on the dance floor, I was kind of liking the insanity of the whole trip. And anyway, it was what I had expected. The moment he mentioned Bangkok, I knew it wasn't going to be a chilled out holiday. Anyway, you know how it goes, sometimes things go so bad they actually turn good. And if it's going to be a tragedy, might as well accept it and hang on for the ride and come out learning a little more about yourself and the people around you.

We eventually got back to Singers. I had a massive amount of alcohol on the way back to dampen the pain of leaving it all behind. I know it's ridiculous because I will definitely be back, and I've always wanted to leave and go live in Europe. But still, it's difficult to close a chapter in your life and move on not knowing what lies ahead.

Later that night I went over to his place to give him his birthday present and I started crying quite badly. I don't know what it is about me lately, but I've started becoming a lot more emotional than I was before. Maybe I always was, I just give in to it easily now (but I don't ever like to make a big deal out of it).

At the airport there was no time to get one last drink so we took photographs in the I-D booth instead, which was a funny way to say goodbye. And then I headed off for the worst plane ride ever. Because being thrown in a tin can hurtling at 500 mph through the troposphere after a totally nutcase weekend that jostled you harshly emotionally and physically isn't the best thing to do to your body. Not fun. And now my f-king flight has been delayed another 45 minutes. After being delayed 5 fucking hours.