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.