makemeinthemood

l.o.o

2008-06-26T04:22:00.001-07:00

why do i always fall in love with straight guys. why!?

...

oh yeah, because i can count on one hand the number of gay people i know.

THE CODE

2008-05-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Uhm... is it 'kylie4eva'?

'hermadgesty'?

'appletinis'?

'rickymartin'?

no?

...

damn, i'm so gonna get my membership revoked.

no more rain

2008-01-21T21:23:00.000-08:00

have you ever thought
that the sky was just endlessly dark,
and then you look up,
and see a million stars.

have you ever been scared
of the water and stuck on the edge?
and then you dive in,
how quickly you forget.

- No More Rain, Kylie Minogue

Kitschy AND profound. How can anyone not love her?

Big Brother

2008-01-06T04:15:00.000-08:00

My big brother was B.I.G.'s brother
So here's a few words from ya kid brother
If you admire somebody you should go on 'head tell 'em
People never get the flowers while they can still smell 'em

-Kanye West 'Big Brother'

Mr. West, beat poet for the new generation?

p.s. is it so wrong i find him a little hot? his arrogance is so over the top it crosses over into sex appeal.

...

i need help.

random burps #7

2007-11-23T11:07:00.000-08:00

"I couldn't think of a thing. The harder I thought, the more easily nothing came." - Stephen King

God Bless You Mr. King.

a thousand different version of yourself

2007-11-06T02:48:00.001-08:00

Jump from the hook,
You're not obliged to swallow anything you despise,
See, those unrepenting buzzards want your life,
And they got no right,
As sure as you have eyes,
They got no right

The Shins - Sleeping Lessons

FRAKKIN' GENIUS

women in love, men in lust

2007-10-10T05:18:00.000-07:00

Oh. My. God.

Hottest. Scene. Ever.

Whilst careening through the cyberhighway I crash-smacked right into this clip on Youtube (God Bless Youtube!). Apparently this is the first full frontal male nudity (and not just ONE fine specimen, but TWO!) in a major motion picture. It is so hot I'm still flushed and bothered hours later just thinking about it. No wonder Americans think all British men are gay (just kidding).

NSFW, btw.

Enjoy.

winter is gone...

2007-10-04T12:22:00.000-07:00

Kevin Walker just said 'I love you'.

*swoon*

Then again, if my boyfriend was Eric Winter, it would take all of - what - 1/2 a second to say those three words.

Why did they have to send him away. WHY?

Although it is funny they are sending him here. Fictionally. If only it was fer realz....

This is a sad turn of events for Kevin, and the viewers. This means that he is going to be celibate for a long long time, probably the whole season. Unless he strays of course. And since we are watching a glorified soap opera here, I'm gonna bet 'yes'.

Who next, Chad White?

random burps #6

2007-07-26T19:28:00.001-07:00

i sometimes think my reflection in the mirror moves slower than the real me.

pensieve

2007-07-24T03:30:00.001-07:00

no matter what i do, i will always be on the outside looking in...

it's not fair.

Suckin' too hard on your lollipop and love's gonna get you down

2007-04-26T07:19:00.000-07:00

Are there any gay men out there who don't like Mika's 'Life in Cartoon Motion'? The 22 year old from London is the new sensation in the UK and Europe, the most popular single being Grace Kelly & Love Today.

I love this freakin' album! Without fail, it puts a smile on my face everytime I put it on. So blatantly camp, and yet has enough pop hooks and songwriting prowess that it feels more like an additional complemental element rather than the main selling point. Shades of Freddie Mercury, Elton John, George Michael, even the Beatles! That Lollipop song is either going to be a classic or drive me raving looney the more I hear it, time will tell but right now it gets me bopping everytime! Even the CD cover is brilliant. Until Bjork's new album is out next month this is what I'll be playing in my car for the next few weeks.

Go get this album now if you haven't!

on another note...

2007-04-18T03:57:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling kinda funny today. Funny in a strange but not unpleasant manner. I woke up after having slept more than 8 hours today (which is unusual for me) so there was none of the tired Mr. Just-Woke-Up-Grouch rearing it's ugly head. The weather was sunny, and things were calm on the work front. So I took my time getting ready, actually trying on a few items of clothing before deciding on one (usually I just grab the first thing my eyes land on). Then I had a slow drive to work and the traffic was surprisingly free. And throughout this all Bjork's new single Earth Intruders was playing in my head, with the jaunty rhythm thrumming pleasantly as I kept repeating 'We are the Earth Intruders, we are the sharp shooters' over and over again. I had this overwhelming sense of calm and peace, which is totally out of the blue because look at the state of the world we're in with the global warming and the viral outbreaks and the Virginia Tech massacre (my condolences to the victims). Can it be I've been so used to it that I've forgotten what it's like to not feel stress?

Still, to be in this state is very rare for me, so I'm just going to enjoy it while it lasts and not feel guilty.

...

Seriously, it's starting to feel like I slipped into a Twilight Zone and arrived at some alternate Pleasantville dimension.

the real volta

2007-04-18T03:40:00.000-07:00

Ok, so the last album cover was bogus (damn I hate April Fool's day!). This is the real one, and it's just as bizarre as the fake one. She looks like a giant, fruity Q*bert. The photographer is the famous Nick Knight who she worked with before on Homogenic (one of the all time coolest album covers). The first single, Earth Intruders, is already floating around the internet (check Youtube) and it sounds fantastically fun. Co-produced by Timbalaand (also check out his excellent album), who wrote a few other songs for her album, it has a World Music tribal beat-ish dance vibe to it. Hopefully the whole album will rock this much. The music video will be out soon as well.

Bjork fans rejoice!

so it goes...

2007-04-12T12:49:00.000-07:00

i... i can't believe he is gone. this hurts almost as bad as when roald dahl went...

so long, mr. vonnegut. you will be missed most sorely...

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”

"No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat's cradle is nothing but a bunch of X's between somebody's hands, and little kids look and look and look at all those X's..."
"And?"
"No damn cat, and no damn cradle."

what i want more than anything in the world at the moment...

2007-04-07T00:19:00.000-07:00

... is to grow some bloody facial hair.

damn genetics. damn you to hell!

postsecret

2007-04-07T00:14:00.000-07:00

i realize that i subconciously tend to leave people i grow to care about, because i am afraid they will leave me first.

Volta

2007-04-02T00:03:00.000-07:00

Her website just released the official cover artwork for her latest album Volta. I have to say it's freaking awesome. The lady is made of cool.

Can't wait!

makes me in the mood

2007-03-28T08:40:00.000-07:00

i'm having a huge crush on him at the moment. if you haven't seen half-nelson, check it out pronto. this boy has looks AND talent. oozing with so much charm and charisma it hurts (down there, hehe) to watch. definitely the finest actor of his generation, and so deserved the oscar more than forest 'i act by screaming loudly so that spit flies everywhere' whitaker (although if peter o'toole had won, i'd have no complaints). humble and down to earth, he is mesmerizing to watch, and is so good it doesn't even feel like he is acting (a sign of a truly great actor). will he be the future bob de'niro? time will tell. all i can say is, he plays the hottest crackhead i've ever seen. ryan, you can put me in a half-nelson any day (preferebly with baby oil involved, and a total lack of clothing).

~~drooool~~

hormone overload.

les fabuleux bourgie

2006-12-31T03:32:00.000-08:00

worth. every. penny.

oh woe

2006-10-03T13:41:00.000-07:00

a 'hai'ku:

my first white nose hair,
which means quarter-life crisis,
is now official.

Willi Veli Happi

2006-10-02T13:18:00.000-07:00

Ok, obvious lesson learnt today: Stuffing your face with food does not cure horniness.

Just ate two whole Ramly burgers. And not just any Ramly burger, but 'the Ramly double special' burger with two layers of meat each, wrapped in fried egg with cheese and the works. I seriously feel a little ill right now as I type this, and wonder if I should just pull a Mary Kate (or is it Ashley?) and stick a finger down my throat.

As I try to keep my meal down and put, I mentally administer some self-scolding as I wonder: Why do I keep doing this to myself? (Sorry Carrie.)

But even as I ask that question the answer inevitably rears its all too familiar face...

...

A month or so back I was driving home after a late night out with some friends. Feeling a little peckish, I thought I'd stop at a nearby 7-11 and pick up one of those little pre-packaged buns (the corn flavoured one is my favourite) to stave the gurgling beast. This was way after midnight.

It just so happens my friend lives in the Taman Tun area, so I stopped at the 7-11 which I remembered was there. The one near the IBM building.

As I was walking towards the 24-hour store a smell wafted across my general area. A delicious smell of sizzling meat (I can never resist meat - of any kind, as you shall soon see, tee hee).

So I turn around and before me was one of those ubiquitous Ramly burger stalls. All Malaysians will recognize them. They have been around since time immemorial. As a kid I used to love eating them, until I grew up and someone told me what the burgers were made of.

I was going to turn around and head to the 7-11 when the owner of the Ramly stall moved from behind the shelf counter and I caught a glimpse of his face...

You know that movie 'The Beat That My Heart Skipped'? Have you seen it? No? Well neither have I but the title - cliche as it is - pretty much comes to mind what I felt.

Standing there flipping the flippin' burgers was a really really really cute Malay guy. Not to sound too Zoolander here but REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY... REALLY cute. Short cropped hair, a faint goatee, a boyish grin, brown skin but not too dark, and the real clincher: he was short.

Yes, I have a semi-fetish for short handsome men. To me it is such a dichotomy. How can handsome men be short? In the movies and books no heroine ever yearns for her SHORT, dark and handsome knight, right? This is why I can only pretend to dislike Tom Cruise. Secretly he makes my willi veli happi.

Anyways, back to the story at hand. I found myself in a haze as I almost unconsciously floated over to the stall. RRRC Guy looked up and smiled at me. By now whatever verbal eloquence I usually possess has been reduced to monosyllabic grunts and gurgles.

"What would you like, bang?" he asks me in Malay.

"Uhm..." I replied.

"Would you like the double special? You look hungry."

"Uhm... ok."

"How about your girlfriend? Maybe you want to buy one for her too?" he said teasingly.

"Uhm... ok."

"Would she like a double special too?"

"Uhm... ok."

"So is it both beef or chicken?"

"Uhm... chicken."

Seriously, aside from it being in Malay, that is how the conversation went, verbatim. Seriously.

By then RRRC Guy is giving me this look that I still choose to interpret as a 'oh-so-he's-the-strong-silent-type-that's-cool' look. He gave me another smile that made my willi VELI happi and set about to work.

So I stood there and mentally slammed my head against a concrete wall repeatedly as I urged myself to say something witty or friendly. But nothing came (although I'd loved to *chortle* *chortle*), so I just stood there and watched his beautiful brown hands (with fine beautiful veins running up each of them) work their magic as he placed the patties on the pan, toasted the buns, spread the raw eggs in concentric circles and then wrapped the meat patties in them. It started to drizzle a little so I stepped closer under the umbrella. Things were calm and the weather was cooling and I totally had a Wong Kar Wai moment where I had this whole monologue in my head as I daydreamed about what it would be like to spend the rest of my life with this beautiful man.

Suddenly from the corner of my eye something snapped me out of my reverie. Next to RRRC Guy was this young Malay kid who was busy chopping vegetables. RRRC Guy chided him in a fatherly manner about how he was chopping them wrongly, and I sighed.

Oh well, I guess this is as close to foreplay as I'll ever get.

So I paid for the burgers (our fingers touched and there was a spark I swear) and left. He thanked me politely as he watched me get into my car. His kid waved as well.

I have been back often since then. And everytime the same thing happens. I just cannot talk when I'm in his presence. What is it about attractive people that just brings out the giggly schoolgirl in me? And in truth it is not a physical thing. More like an essence. Some really physically attractive people do nothing for me at all, but a cute guy with a friendly disposition can turn me into a stark horny mad man. I swear to God I have had wet dreams where I swipe everything on his stall off the counter ala Hank Azaria in Friends, throw him onto his sizzling pan, tear off his clothes and make sweet passionate love right there by the streetside (talk about 'hot!').

And I don't even really like the burgers fer chrissake...

...

Excuse me while I go throw up.

i know what's going to happen...

2006-09-30T07:19:00.000-07:00

I had deja vu a little while ago whilst watching the trailer for Tony Scott's new movie 'Deja Vu'.

...

Maybe it's just my aversion to really bad Tony Scott movies coming back to haunt me. You know... what mistakes you don't learn from your past is doomed to be repeated blah blah blah.

And yet here i am transfixed by the pretty pictures, the loud music/noise, the snappy 1-frame-per-scene editing, Val Kilmer... (did i just type that out loud?)

...

Alls i can say is, someone lock me in a clock quick, cos i think i'm heading north of cuckooland...*

*wait a minute, didn't i use that same lame line for another post awhile ago? or is what i remembered actually happening now? aaaagrh!!!

skin off my back

2006-08-26T14:23:00.000-07:00

dear zeus i'm starting to peel again.

*sigh*... it was worth it, even for a little while.

...

*sigh*

ouch.

metaphors be with you

2006-06-23T02:26:00.001-07:00

You know how you're drinking a cool glass of ice lemon tea under the shade on a seasonably warm and sunny day, and you're taking little sips, and it tastes really really good, really really refreshing? Its just sweet enough and the lemon gives it that extra zest. There are plenty left in the glass, and the ice cubes tinkle merrily as you place it back on the table. You know you're going to love picking it up for that next sip and you are subconsciously treasuring the next encounter. And yet, suddenly and without warning, your left hand - for lack of a better word - flails up involuntarily and, in a flash, knocks over the glass of ice lemon tea.

As you watch the lovely refreshing liquid seep into the white tablecloth leaving nothing left to savor, you think to yourself: yes, metaphorically AND literally, this is my life. How apt.

Like Britney Federline once sang: Oops I did it again.

you know you're hopelessly gay when...

2006-05-18T10:32:00.000-07:00

... as you're driving to work one morning, Jennifer Lopez is breathing this in a come-hither sex-kitten tone:

you know i know you like it,
let me hit you on your Sidekick,
coz the afterparty's at my body,
meet me you're invited.

and as you're listening to this really inappropriate invitation the only thought that crosses your mind is:

"mhmmm.... Sidekick, I'd like to get me some of that. rroowrr."

...

Actually, come to think of it, that doesn't make me gay so much as it makes me a flat-out nerd. A nerd in need of some serious booty (again, booty meaning treasure meaning gadgets meaning expensive-electronic-hardware-I-use-to-fill-the-void-of-my-non-existent-love-life).

As Chandler would say, "Could you be any nerdier?"

p.s. - Hello LL Cool J's Abs, the afterparty is at my body, and you're definitely invited. Bring Pecs and Biceps along too... and Butts, definitely bring Butts along. Hotter than a shot of Cuervo indeed.

p.p.s. - I'm not dissing this song or anything, in fact I really like it. Before it was overplayed to death on the radio and mtv it really brightened my day whenever I hear it in the car. Great for grooving, although I notice that motorists are parking further and further away from me during red light stops. Whaddup wit dat dog?

Pipa Pipa

2006-03-30T10:16:00.000-08:00

Ok, so this is not going to be pretty.

Ever since I can remember, my ambition was to be a writer. I would, as a five year old (or so my mom tells me) sit in a corner of the house with an exercise book and a pen and scribble and scribble, often with the other hand holding my head, like I had a world of knowledge to impart and the pressure from such voluminous wisdom was too heavy for my neck to support. And then around the time I was 12 an uncle of mine gave me an old typewriter. I really felt like a true writer then. I would lug it with me everywhere I went. To friends and relative's houses, to my parent's office, to school even (although the clack clack of the typewriter when I attempted to compose my masterpiece on 'The Person I Admire The Most' - or something or other - drove the other students crazy and they reported me to the teacher so that plan went down the drain pretty much from day one.) I remember that year my hand was perpetually stained black from constantly fiddling with the ink ribbons.

And then - oh tragedy most foul - puberty hit.

Along with pimples, night 'emissions' and body aches from all the stretching bones, I developed a sense of self-consciousness that was startling in its intensity. I was conscious of every move I made, of how ridiculous my voice sounded, how I walked, what I said, how irritating my laugh was. It must have been how Adam and Eve felt when they first sank their virgin fangs into the Forbidden Fruit. Suddenly I felt naked everywhere I went and everyone was laughing and pointing their fingers at me.

It was also around that time that I stopped writing. Not that I consciously decided to, but that I just couldn't anymore. I would sit at the table and will myself to write (much like constipation, all that 'willing' gave me mental hemorroids - meaning headaches and migraines). In desperation I would pick up autobiographies and read about how Hemingway would compose his opus in a cafe in some rue de la fancy francais and finish a short story in an afternoon in his Moleskine, and then celebrate it with a small glass of port before sauntering home in the crisp evening Parisian sunset. Damn that Hemingway, I thought. Not only does he have the talent, he has the perfect name for an author. Furnitures are named after him. Bloody Pulitzer Prize winner.

Then again, he did drink himself to his death. So that sort of evens things out. Sort of.

I envied - and still do - that some people (not just writers) can just walk into a coffee shop, buy a cup of coffee, plonk their notebooks/laptops on the table and start churning out winning prose. And when they make bestsellers out of their work, it drives me nuts. I hate them. I really hate them (you hear me J.K. Rowling? You are an abberation of the Devil and I will hunt you down and cast you back to the Fiery Pits of Impossibility where you belong... right after you finish book 7.)

They say that writers are shy creatures who are mostly introverts. From the pictures and interviews I've seen of writers, that does hold water. And most of them are butt ugly (although I'd love me some Grisham, yum yum). I would never be able to sit in a public place and write. I am just too conscious of my surroundings. I subscribe more to the Stephen King school of writing. Small room with a small table facing the blank wall. Zero distractions.

Anyways, I couldn't write for years. The mind was like a Zara store after Summer Sales, mostly empty. So I took to sketching and photography as a form of creative output and that was that.

Recently I found a whole stash of my old writings (pre-puberty). I dug through them in a flood of nostalgia and marveled at how liberated I was. Thoughts just flowed from one point to the other and made sense. And it was entertaining. Stories of pirates and pixies and ponies (oh my). I worshipped at the altar of Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl (still do). And I could make out themes, plots and characterization. The grammer and spelling was sometimes atrocious but overall it was pretty impressive for my age then. I read somewhere about this state that most people go through when they are in the act of creating something artistic. The article calls it the Flow and its a state of mind where the brain is solely focused on the task at hand and the outside world just melts away, leaving you with your sense of purpose and drive. I sometimes felt that way when I was writing, and when I snap out of it hours would have passed, seemingly in a blink.

But that was eons ago. So recently I remembered the article and tried to get into the Flow, so to speak. I took deep breaths and focused really intensely. Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Everything I wrote was crap. I cursed under my breath and went to eat a Kit Kat.

After several tries I gave up.

For me now, writing is a painful act. I love the end results but the process itself is... uhm... how do I describe it...

It is like a Surinam Toad's birthing process.

Ok, just a warning, if you are in anyway consuming or thinking of consuming any food or beverage in the next few hours, I strongly advise you to not read the rest of this post.

Here is a quote from this website:

A Surinam Toad (also called a Pipa Pipa) is an ugly amphibian that resides mostly in the Amazon region in South America. When nesting season arrives, with her back near the water surface, the female deposits 60 to 100 eggs. They are fertilized by the male and distributed over the back of the female. Eggs adhere and sink into the sponge-like dorsal skin. Within 24 hours, the female's back begins to swell around the eggs. By 10 days, each egg will be embedded in a chamber, producing a "honeycomb" on the female's back. They remain on her back until fully metamorphosed (12 to 20 weeks), then push out through the membranes covering the pockets. The young are cannibalistic and have no gills or tails (reabsorbed during development).

Yes, the writing process for me now is like a hundred tadpoles burrowing through your flesh as it struggles to freedom and the open air (and having quite a scrumptious meal in the process). You're glad you've sired the next generation to carry on your genes but am highly doubtful you'd ever want to do it again. When I first saw a documentary on these toads I literally almost threw up the Gnutella sandwich I had for lunch. I was thinking of posting pictures of them on this site but then I would have to look at them everytime I logged on. They are seriously creepy, click on the website to have a look. NOT for the squeamish.

...

Did you see it?

Told you this post wasn't going to be pretty.

dear whoever,

2006-03-22T12:39:00.000-08:00

Dropped something behind my dresser while I was getting changed today, and when I shifted the dresser to retrieve the item I found this note, torn and stained and crumpled into a small dusty ball:

Today I realised that I have never been truly happy. Whenever I think that I have been truly happy, there has always lurked, in the recesses of my mind, the fear that unhappiness is just around the corner.

Whoever wrote that must be so embarrassed he wrote that note. Whoever wrote that must have been such a drama queen. Whoever wrote that had too much hormones surging through his juvenile psyche. Whoever wrote that had no other priority than sex and other people's approval. Whoever wrote that did not realise he had the ability to go and do something about it. Whoever wrote that was lying to himself constantly and using insecurity as an excuse for self-enforced isolation.

Whoever wrote that was just scared.

Whoever wrote that still is.

Damn you, whoever you are.

whine sniff sob

2006-03-07T00:21:00.000-08:00

Well. Its officially over. All those months of nail-biting came to naught. I am so proud of this man. He has embodied the grace and wisdom and character of a civilized Chinese, and with enough talent and pluck, manage to become the first Asian filmmaker to win a major award (for Best Director). In fact, I'm not sure if he isn't the ONLY Chinese person to ever win an Oscar in the top categories (Best Foreign Film doesn't count in my book). I'm so proud of him I could burst. And to do it with the most well-deserved and touching film to grace the Hollywood screens in a long long loong time.

I have to be honest, I am devastated that Brokeback Mountain did not win Best Picture. I know its wrong to feel like this but it feels like a snub to the gay community almost. I know the GLAAD will most probably be up in arms riiiight about now, writing protest letters and picketing the streets. That I feel is unneccessary, because the damage has already been done, and only serves to make us look pathetic (har har lookkit dem whiney gheys!). The sad part is, although Crash was a good film (if a bit pedantic) it was NOWHERE near as good as Brokeback Mountain. The news said that Brokeback lost only by a fraction. That offers a little comfort (but only a little).

One good thing came from watching the Oscars though (and Jon Stewart WAS funny, screw you critics), I had never heard Dolly Parton's song Travellin' Thru (an original song nominated for Best Song from Transmerica) until she got onstage and performed it, and got the ENTIRE attending audience (even Jack Nicholson) to clap along with smiles on their faces. I, however, was sobbing almost uncontrollaby. Having watched the film I understood what she was singing about, but she might as well be singing it to me/us.

Travellin' Thru - Dolly Parton (from the soundtrack to Transamerica)

Well I can't tell you where I'm going, I'm not sure of where I've been
But I know I must keep travelin' till my road comes to an end
I'm out here on my journey, trying to make the most of it
I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit
Like a poor wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find what feels like home
Where that is no one can tell me, am I doomed to ever roam
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' on

Questions I have many, answers but a few
But we're here to learn, the spirit burns, to know the greater truth
We've all been crucified and they nailed Jesus to the tree
And when I'm born again, you're gonna see a change in me

God made me for a reason and nothing is in vain
Redemption comes in many shapes with many kinds of pain
Oh sweet Jesus if you're listening, keep me ever close to you
As I'm stumblin', tumblin', wonderin', as I'm travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru

Oh sometimes the road is rugged, and it's hard to travel on
But holdin' to each other, we don't have to walk alone
When everything is broken, we can mend it if we try
We can make a world of difference, if we want to we can fly

Goodbye little children, goodnight you handsome men
Farewell to all you ladies and to all who knew me when
And I hope I'll see you down the road, you meant more than I knew
As I was travelin', travelin', travelin', travelin', travelin' thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin'
Drifting like a floating boat and roaming like the wind
Oh give me some direction lord, let me lean on you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin', thru

I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru
I'm just travelin', travelin', travelin', I'm just travelin' thru

Like the poor wayfaring stranger that they speak about in song
I'm just a weary pilgrim trying to find my own way home
Oh sweet Jesus if you're out there, keep me ever close to you
As I'm travelin', travelin', travelin', as I'm travelin' thru

This song hit me almost as hard as the other 'gay' song from the Brokeback Mountain soundtrack:-

The Maker Makes - Rufus Wainwright (from the original soundtrack to Brokeback Mountain)

One more chain I break
To get me closer to you
One more chain does the maker make
To keep me from bustin' through

One more notch I scratch
To keep me thinkin' of you
One more notch does the maker make
Upon my face so blue

Get along, little doggies
Get along, little doggies

One more smile I fake
And try my best to be glad
One more smile does the maker make
Because he knows I'm sad

Oh Lord, how I know
Oh Lord, how I see
That only can the maker make
A happy man of me

Get along little doggies
Get along little doggies
Get along

Both songs just hit me at a deep gut level and I swear I haven't cried to a song in a long long long time. Suddenly there are two. Bless. If you haven't heard both these songs I sincerely urge you to do so. If only for a brief moment to witness something made with heartfelt genuine sincerity, with earnest and simple but brilliant clarity, that speaks directly to the heart.

Much like Brokeback Mountain.

God I hate the OScars

*sniff

Random Belches

2006-02-22T03:58:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I think my mother loves me to the point of incest.

I Will Buy A Goldfish

2006-02-20T12:43:00.000-08:00

I will buy a goldfish.

I will buy a goldfish and put it in a bowl by the kitchen window near a patch of sunlight.

I will buy a goldfish and feed it and change the water constantly.

I will buy a goldfish so that it is there to welcome me home everyday.

I will buy a goldfish and tell it my deepest and darkest secrets.

I will buy a goldfish and share with it things I have never shared with another soul.

I will buy a goldfish and miss it when I am not home.

I will buy a goldfish and give it all my love.

I will buy a goldfish so that when it dies, it teaches me a lesson.

I will buy a goldfish so that it tells me how everyone who you love will someday leave you. And then, after that...

I will buy a goldfish again.

Iron I Too Young For This?

2006-02-16T06:54:00.001-08:00

I recently noticed that it's been happening with an alarming frequency.

I wake up to the sound of my handphone alarm. Stagger to the bathroom to shower and do my other daily 'rituals'. Then I turn on the iron and press the clothes that I'll be wearing that day. Sometimes I'll look at the clock and then realise, "Shit, I'm late!" Then I'd grab all my stuff - keys, wallets, handphones etc - and rush out the door. The moment I've locked the front door and am halfway down the elevator (I live in an apartment a few floors up) it will suddenly hit me.

"Damn, did I turn off the iron?"

Glancing at my watch I'd realise that if I keep going now I might still make it for the meeting/gathering/appointment/date. I try to brush it off and tell myself that I'm just being paranoid. That I'd already switched off the iron the minute I finished ironing. But the nagging feeling will persist. And by the time I reach the ground floor and start walking towards the car a mental image will flash in my head. Its an alarming scene (due to my overactive imagination, it feels like a film) of the camera tracking in towards my iron, which will dramatically short-circuit and then burst into flames, engulfing the ironing board and spread over to the curtains. Within minutes the whole apartment is completely torched and I end up staying at YMCA for the rest of the year, turning tricks at the corner of Jln Brickfields for a few bucks so I can pay the rent and eat cheap nasi lemak.

Sighing, I will turn around and head back into the elevator, up to the apartment, open the door, walk all the way to the bedroom and check the plug point.

The iron is off.

Resigned and beaten, I turn to walk away. Then another nagging feeling will surface.

"Are you SURE its really off? Why don't you just test it, just to be sure. You can never be TOO sure you know?"

I know, I know, I belong in a straight jacket. But society still has better things to do than go around arresting people with minor mental dysfunctions thank ye gods (although people who fart in elevators should be torched to a crisp using their own 'gas', screw the straight jackets).

So I turn back and turn the switch on and off. Just to be sure.

Then, just to be extra sure, I'll turn it on and off again.

And, for good luck, I'll turn it on and off again.

All this while every cell in my brain is yelling at me, "You nimwit! What are you doing!? You're late for a meeting/appointment/gathering/date and you're here turning a stupid switch on and off?!"

But for some reason my body will refuse to listen and keep on doing it. I sometimes end up fondling the switch just to make sure its on the off position. JUST TO BE SURE.

I guess its some form of Obsessive Compulsive Behavior. But it's something I've never had till recently. Can someone actually develope OCB later in life? Compound to this the fact that I just turned over a quarter of a century last year (and experienced what a friend of mine calls the Quarter-Life Crisis, but that's another story). Am I getting semi-senile? Is human society progressing at such an alarming rate that we mentally grow up and age to senility within half the span of our ancestors?

Then I remember my grandpa, aged 78. He shuffles around the house, opening and closing each drawer ten times and muttering to himself, "Drawer open, drawer closed. Drawer open, drawer closed..."

So I guess - like my thinning hair - this condition must be hereditary, but did it have to happen so early in my life? I can probably deal with it when I'm retired and lying around drinking margheritas in my beach front mansion (by then I can afford to have my house burned down and then rebuilt it again. That or just send my laundry away for pressing). Right now I need to not be late for work all the time because I can't remember if I've flipped some frickin' switch.

Of course, I can always wake up earlier...

Oh shit, did I remember to lock the car?

Stand up

2006-02-14T08:29:00.000-08:00

This past month of the new year has been unbelievably stacked with momentous occasions and events. Leaving my old company to form a new one, my career improving considerably and steadily, and last but not least - standing up for myself and refusing to let people step all over me, as I am wont to do in situations where I know things are going to get unpleasant, which the 'old' me will always try to avoid if possible.

Well, not anymore.

I stood up for what was right, what was true and although I've scarred or pissed off certain people along the way, I am glad I did it and I'd do it again.

Maturity - 1, Cowardice - 0.

Rock on.

p.s. - alright, maybe its more like Maturity - 1, Cowardice - 0.5. But I'm trying. Honest.

Shouting down an empty corridor

2006-02-12T02:23:00.000-08:00

I have no idea why I'm doing this. I can't commit to anything, not even to the right pair of socks to wear most mornings. I am only partially narcissistic, shifting left and right between hermit and overtly eager peacock.

Time will tell.