Mr Bad Media Karma

A cursory peek into my fucked-up life. Rants and raves, musings and madness - come get your piece of me.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Hot Tamale

Just a little something for the original samazozi. We're here for you whatever happens.

On a side note, this is one of my favourite Jenny videos ever. You're given a tour of the Bronx in all it's gritty glory in 3 minutes. From the la cucaracha car alarm to the laundry store, the barbershop to the old-school record store, the sidewalk scenes to the baseball game. Gotta love Dave Meyers.

ANYWAY this one's for you Meng. You're gonna be alright.

Monday, October 30, 2006

You must not know 'bout me


All through my teenage years, Destiny's Child(and by extension, Beyonce) were unavoidable. They dared you to say their names, exhorted you to leave your man at home and go jumpin' jumpin', declared their status as independent women, proclaimed that they were survivors, and introduced the term bootylicious to pop-culture(which the scary masculine drag queen otherwise known as Fergie has unfortunately hijacked for her new single). Beyonce then embarked on a successful solo career and scored the undisputed song of the summer with Crazy In Love back in '03, along with a clutch of Grammys and Moonmen(some undeserved, particularly Naughty Girl winning best female video at the 2004 VMAs which I am STILL sore about). She had accomplished so much in a span of under 25 years it made Madonna seem like an underachiever(let's not forget that Madge was 26 before she truly hit gold with Like A Virgin). As if all this wasn't enough, Destiny's Child reunited for another album at the end of 2004 that sold well and spawned the hits Lose My Breathe and Soldier. Beyonce had another banner year in 2005 with the Destiny's Child greatest hit's collection #1s living up to it's name and debuting in pole position, and started 2006 strongly with another solo #1 by way of Check On It.

To me, Beyonce always had a whiff of overrated about her. Sure, Destiny's Child made great music but they were no TLC, and while Crazy In Love deserved every bit of it's success, the Dangerously In Love album was basically a singles and filler affair. I never got the Beyonce hype. Never hated her like I hate Aguilera, but just didn't understand what exactly all the fuss was about.

So when the Beyonce train came around yet again in the middle of the year, I expected the single and album to be big hits, regardless of the quality of her music. Deja Vu caught my attention initially, but it didn't last very long and I was soon skipping it on the I-pod. The infamous scenes of her careening through the fields and doing tribal dances like a woman possessed in the music video actually generated more negative buzz, with her fans petitioning for her to re-shoot the video. Deja Vu started of very strongly on radio but ended up crashing into a brick wall, never hitting the top 10 on CHR Pop. Beyonce's NEW single from her NEW album not going top 10 on pop radio? I was very surprised. The song did hit #4 on the Hot 100 thanks to digital sales, but didn't have staying power and descended the charts very quickly. It reminded me very much of Mariah's Loverboy chart run back in '01 which went 60-2-2-9-24-49-73-out after the 49 cent commercial single was released. There was speculation that the album wouldn't perform to expecations, which prompted Matthew Knowles, daddy and manager, to retort that everything was going well and they were pleased with how the project was faring thus far. For the first time ever, it seemed that Beyonce was suffering from some sort of backlash. Not a Glitter or Nipplegate or American Life to be sure, but serious enough for people to realise that no one, not even Beyonce, was invincible. The album's been out for 8 weeks and will pass the million mark this week, which isn't stellar but when you consider that sales are down in general and that Christina's Back To Flopping has only moved 840 000 plus copies in the 11 weeks it's been out, I suppose things aren't going too badly for Beyonce.

The official US second single was Ring The Alarm, which was perhaps even more frentic than Deja Vu, with an indignant Beyonce staking her claim to her man, although perhaps for the wrong reasons - one gets the feeling that she's more intent on ensuring her rival does NOT get to rock the chinchilla coats and VVS Stones than anything else. Beyonce took her lunacy to another level, strapping herself into a straitjacket for the video. She also performed Ring The Alarm at the 2006 VMAs, although that performance seemed to be heavily inspired by Britney's Me Against The Music at the 2003 AMAs and the choreography highly reminiscent of Janet in Rhythm Nation. While many people didn't appreciate Ring The Alarm (it peaked at #11 on the Hot 100 and was mostly ignored by pop radio), I appreciated that Beyonce was taking risks with her music, and thought it her best single since Crazy In Love. Until...

IRREPLACEABLE! Which is the video you see here. Perhaps Beyonce finally realised that the mad woman persona only endeared her to individuals with very strange inclinations, and on this guitar-driven mid-tempo number she tones down on the hysterics to turn in an understated, classy, heartfelt delivery. I don't relate to the song personally(because I've never been in love and so have not experienced being cheated on), but if you expand the context of the song to include betrayal by friends, I have plenty of experience there. Even in the music video, it's evident that B girl has taken her valium. For someone who's never been a huge Beyonce fan, I really do adore this song, and have been whoring it out to anyone who'll listen. Which is what I'm doing now. What can I say, girl's got mad talent.

PS. LOVE that 'to the left, to the left' hook!

Halloween 06

So that was our stab at Halloween this year. Doesn't quite beat the mascara drenched Meng and Wei Ren circa Halloween 2005 tho'. At least we tried. We could have done much better actually. They were selling various Halloween-esque trinkets at Isetan that included fairy wings (how very appropriate), scary masks, pointy witch hats and chinese pigtails(Ty Ty baby!), among other things. My favourite was a viking helmet with hair attached. It was blonde and came down on both sides in pigtails, reminding me of what Olga the lesbian gymnast from the former USSR would look like if she kept long hair and had a bad dye job. Pity we don't have pictures of those. I must say that there were several interesting costumes on parade last night. They ranged from the predictable(schoolboy uniforms, which I had suggested we wear earlier, d'oh!), to the unique(the $200-winning headgear featuring a flotilla of red flowers), to the regal(an aristocrat's outfit a la Madonna's dancers in Vogue at the 1990 VMAs), to the scary(face caked completely in white powder, straw-like hair), to the downright scary(bunch of sailors who looked like they'd been hit by the ugly stick one time too many). It was utterly fascinating and I give props to all those who bothered to dress up for this occasion that isn't inherent to Singapore and Singaporeans in general. I do wonder whether Bryanboy can top that French maid outfit he rocked last year...

I decided to flaunt my flamboyance and wear that...that...thing I had bought from Zara which I had meant to wear in Phuket and only in Phuket. Common sense prevailed and I wore this oversized Abercrombie shirt to conceal my extreme faggotry from the mother and hapless MRT commuters. Evidently it was a wise decision, because Zhu Wei Ren may have disowned me there and then at the station if I had been attired so skimpily at the start of the night. Here you can see the blue outline of my singlet which was threatening to do a peek-a-boo. As the night wore on and the temperature in the club rose (both figuratively and literally), the shirt did come off to reveal the 'I've never worn so little', coupled with several more Janet-esque nipplegate moments that were fun and funny at the time but slightly cringe-worthy now.

Speaking of dressing, Miss Lena Chee was very well put together. Ok that makes her sound like some snap together figurine but Meng really did a good job with her. From the billowing hair to the dangling earrings, the frivolous ribbon around her waist to the frivolous ribbons around her ankles, the glossy lips to the sleek black outfit, the white purse to THOSE WEDGES, Miss Thang was ROCKIN' it last night. So here they are, Singapore's Givenchy and Hepburn, Galliano and Theron - Meng and his muse Lena.Apart from dabbling in fashion, our samazozi is also an aspiring photographer. Wei Ren looks...stunned. No, disturbed.

Music-wise, the evening started off very promisingly with lots of Madonna. Jump, Future Lovers, Get Together. Unfortunately, it soon descended into the vocal-less crap that hides behind the term deep-house. I realise that DJs don't really like to play commercial pop music. Perhaps they find it a dent to their "credibility". And that's their prerogative I suppose. Me? I'd be happy dancing to Madonna, Cher, Janet, Jennifer and gang. But then again I have no credibility whatsoever. Figures huh. The fate of my night was sealed when I got burned by this drunk whore brandishing a ciggarette. She was so bloody drunk she didn't even realise she had burnt me and looked at me as if I had given her a yeast infection or something. I wanted to slap her very badly. The dance floor was packed to the brim as usual and we found respite upstairs, dancing amongst ourselves as if we owned the place, dancing in front of the mirrors, pruning and preening and striking our best poses. For my first ever Halloween celebration, it wasn't half bad.
I can make it alone...I can make it alone...I can make it alone (my sistas and me, my sistas and me...)

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Trying to find the magic

Like an Australian creek in the heat of summer, I've been dangerously low on ideas recently. I'd type a sentence, maybe even a paragraph, and realise that I have nothing useful to contribute or that I am unable to translate all these ideas swirling in my head into words. Writing is very draining and it requires immense concentration, patience, and perhaps some sort of talent that I am deficient in.

So perhaps I'll take this opportunity to finish my reminisce series which I started last year and never completed. It's actually a very appropriate time to write this now. 2002. Secondary 4. My final year in that heaven and hell.

It began promisingly enough. I was glad to be back in school after the sheer torture of the year-end holidays. I basically had no friends. Was feuding with Michael, feuding with Gerald, drifting away from Siow, and didn't know Tong well enough to dare to ask him out during the holidays. Those weeks were probably the most lonely of my life. I stayed at home for 2 weeks straight, watched Serendipity ALONE because I really wanted to see it and had no one to accompany me, spent my days in front of the computer monitoring Britney's album sales as if my life depended on them.

The major difference in terms of academics was that all our science teachers had been replaced. Apparently 3.11 produced such awful results that a major reshuffling was ordered by the senior administration. Out went Samson Tan and in came Jason Lee for Physics. We gladly bid farewell to that ancient Biology relic also known as Toh Siew Tee and cautiously greeted Yong Lee Har. The starkest change was in Chemistry, where Terence Ng was sent downstairs to teach general science and Quek Yi Lek was summoned to save us from acadmic damnation. I guess it was appropriate that I scored A2s for all my sciences in the 'O's. Which was a disappointment at that time but in retrospect was rather remarkable when you consider that I basically knew zilch about Chemistry at the beginning of the year and was performing atrociously in Physics and Bio. Having new teachers motivated me to start anew and push myself to do well. I am a firm believer that teachers exercise a great deal of influence on their students. If you like a teacher, you are more likely to want to do well in that subject.

I will fast-forward to the month of April because I can't remember anything that happened before then, which probably means that those first few months were utterly uneventful. It was 1 Apr 02. April Fool's Day. For some strange reason, we had followed Gerald to the dental centre at SGH. He was with his mum and Tong & I decided to make our way to town from there. On the bus, I remember feeling this strong urge to tell Tong about my sexual orientation. I can't really recall why. Maybe part of me hoped that he was gay too. I wasn't deluded and knew that he was probably not, but at that time it seemed like a shot worth taking. I think it went beyond that. I had this need to tell somebody, to share my deep, dark secret with the world. Since Secondary 1, there had been rumours about my orientation. But people never really believe these kind of things until they hear it directly from the horse's mouth. So I told Tong. We were in McDonald's at Suntec. He was studying (or trying to anyway), and in typical Tong fashion seemed so very nonchalant. He took no interest in what I had to say, and I actually had to repeat myself several times and drop all sorts of hints before he finally got it. On the bus home, he asked me whether I was attracted to anyone in class and that was when I leaked those 2 infamous set of initials, BT and KO, that would be used against me for the rest of the year.

The next day Tong greeted me in this very sinister manner and I more or less knew I was done for. It leaked out slowly at first. He told Gerald who said something like "Ya isn't that damn obvious?" As the weeks went on, Tong used this information to subdue me. I was effectively his slave - running errands, buying food, carrying his bag for him, doing silly, humiliating things at his whim or fancy. I made a fool of myself in a futile effort to plug the leak, I begged and pleaded and even tried to pass it off as an April Fool's joke. But it was far too late to do anything at this point. All I could do was sit back and watch in horror as one by one, people started to find out about me, from classmates to teachers. I don't know if the teachers ever believed what they heard, but I do remember becoming persona non grata to several classmates, including Keith. I don't blame him really. This pushed me even closer to Tong & gang because although he was the one who had betrayed my misplaced trust, he was also one of the few people in class who would hang out with me, albeit with plenty of teasing and derogatory comments regarding my sexuality. I do wonder if he feels guilty about everything he did to me that year. Do you?

I've been possessed by the fashion faux pas spirit ever so often, most recently during National Day this year. Urgh! But perhaps the worst ever was during the President's Challenge. We had been strongly encourgaed (which in AC basically means forced) to donate to the President's Challenge. The proceeds went to the Heart Bus, which was basically a double-deck SBS bus (service 196) embellished with hearts that contained our signatures and the school crest smack in the middle of it all. We were the first school to actually have our own heart bus. As part of the unveiling ceremony, the President (duh, it's his challenge after all) was invited to inaugurate the bus. As part of the proceedings, we were taught to do the 'Express Yourself' dance, which basically meant following the movements of a teacher who fancied herself to be Madonna, and repeatedly hearing "Don't go for second best baby, put your lover to the test, you know you know you got to, make him express how he feels and baby then you'll know your love is real..." Now I wasn't as much of a Madonna loon back then, which was a good thing because if the same thing happened now, I would start hyperventilating and descending into pure faggotry. Most of the guys were blissfully unaware that they were dancing to Madonna. Hell, I remember in Sec 3 one of my classmates didn't even know that she sung 'Like A Virgin'! o_O I mean, yeah you're straight and all that but surely there are certain things that even the straightest of guys should know??

So back to the President's Challenge. We were allowed to wear our own clothes to school that day. I chose this sleeveless red t-shirt, which was really a daring thing at the time because I had never ever won anything without sleeves out of the home. But then the fashion faux pas spirit possessed me and I decided to pair it with this Union Jack t-shirt that I had purchased from London the year before. The t-shirt was basically one big Union Jack flag, even down to the sleeves. So I wore that t-shirt underneath and wore my sleeveless over (incidentally this one featured the bald eagle and some American stars and strips and whatnot). I cannot even BEGIN to describe how AWFUL the whole outfit was. It was so absolutely hideous I disposed of the inner tee at school and thus heralded the first time I was ever sleeveless in public. As we sat in the parade square waiting for Nathan to arrive(whereupon we would toast him with bloody NEWATER!) Sherwin, this really muscular guy who fancied himself to be some contemporary Don Juan, came up to me and pointedly asked "Are you gay?" I wanted to kill myself. I couldn't say yes but at the same time I couldn't bring myself to say no either. So I just kept quiet. I suspect that lots of people were talking about me back in the day. Thankfully I was never really aware of exactly what was being said. That whole period of time was very painful.

I realise that a big part of my 2002 invovled Gerald Goh. All the insults traded, all the ridiculous fights, all the pranks played. I have to mention a few. Tong occasionally borrowed money from Gerald and so Gerald would periodically ask him to return whatever money he owed. Thing is, Gerald always seemed to ask for more than he was due. And Tong being Tong had no idea and just kept on giving out those 2 dollar notes, as if he were a dysfunctional ATM that would simpy dispense cash upon request even if you didn't have that balance in your account. After a couple of months he finally caught on to the Burd's wicked schemes. So Gerald became more brazen and started fishing money out of Tong's bag (he never carried a wallet because he would lose it sooner rather than later) whenever he wasn't in class (which was quite often).

Sometime during the year, he bought new shoes. Nike boings. I accidentally stepped on them a couple of times. I SWEAR that it was an accident. Ok, maybe I did so on purpose once or twice but the straw that broke the camel's back was REALLY accidental. He went ballistic, thinking that I was "trying to be funny" and demanded to step on my new RIPCURL bag in retaliation. Which is all very childish when you think about it now but hey, that's what we were. Naturally, I didn't want my new bag to bear the imprint of his shoe. So we started fighting as he tried to wrench my bag from me and I struggled to hold on to it. It got to the point where I realised the only way to save my bag was to make a big commotion. So I did. In front of the entire class, in front of our teacher, I shouted "CAN YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" Now my Chinese teacher, Han Kok Peng, was CLUELESS about how much animosity there was between Gerald and myself. She tried to calm the situation by telling us that as friends we should get along and not quarrel. This merely made the situation worse and Gerald wanted to tell her that I was gay (which is really out of point but I suppose he felt that was the only weapon he could use against me). So he blurted, "but lao shi, ta si tong xi..." Tong interrupted him just in time and got him to shut up. Which was really one of the few times that Tong came to my rescue. Writing this now, I cringe to think about how I was perceived by my classmates.

Moving on to one of my favourite incidents ever. We were on the bus to some old folk's home for community service, and Gerald and I were at it again, trading insults at each other. I would always win the verbal argument and the only way he could ever compensate was by using physical violence. Mainly, he would assualt me on my shoulder with his claw. Which hurt. Anyway, it got to the point where Gerald was simply exasperated and decided to use my sexual orientation against me once again. "Simon, I know that I may be quite ugl...not very good-looking, but at least I'm not a gay like you right?" I just burst out laughing. You see, my main weapon against Gerald at the time was the way he looked(which was very mean la and I apologise for doing so), and I guess that I had reiterated it so many times he began to see himself that way.

Finally, my number one favourite Gerald Goh incident. It was during Geography class. Only half the class took Geography and the other half would go over to .13 for History. We would take this opportunity to seat wherever the hell we wanted to, and on this occasion Tong was next to me, and the two of us were directly behind Gerald. Jonathan Ng was selling these packets of Smarties for charity or something, so we bought a few packets and started to eat them. Then Tong and I thought of this brilliant prank to play on the burd. The background on this being that Gerald would seize any opportunity to antagonize me, and we decided to use that against him. We took a smartie and threw it on the floor. Tong stepped on it with his shoes. We then proceeded to smother the smartie in lead, rubbing the pencil lead against the smartie as if we were playing the violin. Tong then proceeded to offer the smartie to Gerald. On cue, I broke out into violent protest. "No they're mine! Don't give it to him!" A look of glee erupted on Gerald's face when he realised that he had an opportunity to annoy me. He demanded the smartie and so Tong surrendered it to him, whereupon he happily tossed it into this mouth with the satisfaction of having won this skirmish. A couple of seconds later, he turned around and drank some water from his bottle. To this day, I'd like to think that this was because of the dirt and lead on the smartie. Tong and I started to laugh hysterically. We actually managed to play the same trick on him again 5 mintues later. It was absolutely hilarious. We started this whole Pb(the symbol for lead on the periodic table) joke and never told Gerald about what really happened until many weeks later(and when he found out he attacked Tong's shoulder with his claws). Good times.

Another favourite with Gerald was after the pre-lim labs, when we were quarantined in the classrooms for a period of time before being released. Luck would have it that we were in the same classroom as Ivan the white-haired freak. He had this large patch of white hair above his ear which was very unfortunate, especially since he already looked monstrous. Ivan was perhaps even more physically violent than Gerald, if that is possible. Once, before some exam, he had been making fun of me and when I responded in kind he got so angry that he started kicking me in the shins repeatedly, to the point where I thought I was going to die. Certainly someone you don't want to mess with because when he gets angry he really has an immense amount of strength. So Gerald and him began insulting each other. Ivan probably started it, calling Gerald the bird and all. Everything was fine at first until Gerald called Ivan a white-haired freak, a zebra. There was one of those dramatic moments where everyone fell silent and you could just cut the tension with a knife. The eye of the storm if you will. The expression on Ivan's face changed. You could actually see it changing in slow motion. A moment later we went back into real time and Ivan jumped out at Gerald, who was sitting behind him. The impact of that nearly knocked Gerald out of his chair and then Ivan started to punch Gerald in the face. They had to be pulled apart and Gerald's spectacles were mangled beyond recognition. So he went out of the classroom and I knew what was going to happen. He came back with the discipline mistress, Karen Liau, who we all adored really. She was a big-time bitch when she first came into AC in 2000 but by 2002 everyone had fallen for her former air-stewardess charms. Actually, we all adored her except for Gerald because she gave him a very hard time over this incident. I remember Gerald giving her this really fucked up analogy about how the punching was akin to letting someone go into class and breaking everyone's pencils and she scolded Gerald for being rude. Gerald started to apologise for this in his usual disgruntled manner and she told him that if he wanted to raise the matter further the both of them would have to stay back after everyone was dismissed. This was anathema to Gerald and he decided to drop the matter, after he had basically been humiliated in front of 3 classes worth of people.

NPCC was really fucked up. You suffer for 3 years so that in Sec 4 you get to make everyone else suffer. But after I paid my dues, I was sent for some stupid NPCC Day and subsequently Youth Day Parade instead as part of the marching contingent. Which meant that instead of ordering people around, I would be ordered around under the hot sun, no different from when I was a junior. Which pissed me off greatly. There were around eight of us involved in this fiasco, if memory serves me right. After a while, we decided that we would not burn a good part of our Saturdays to participate in the practices. Attendance was taken of course, but our own AC teachers were back in school and not at the Police Academy. Practices were held there initially. So after taking attendace, the AC guys would magically disappear. We would find a way to escape from the area, change into our civilian clothes, and get the hell out of there before anyone noticed. In retrospect, and after army where you can get charged with AWOL and sent to DB for this sort of thing, I wonder how I ever went ahead with it all. Don't mind me saying this, but it really did take balls on our part to run away week after week. Maybe it shows how desperate we all were to escape the sheer torture of boring, mindless drills. The most dramatic scene was when Youth Day drew closer and practices were held at the National Stadium instead. We would go to the Police Academy to mark attendance and from there buses would take us to Kallang for rehearsals. We actually had to run behind the whole row of buses to avoid being detected, and Kavin had to talk to the instructors to draw attention away from the fact that there were people running away under their very noses. It was a great adrenaline rush. I'm surprised that we weren't caught until the actual Youth Day Parade was over and Joseph Yeo was furious that ACS (I) had not marched along with the contingent. Of course we didn't march, we hadn't attended any rehearsals! That Mondy, after lab practical pre-lims, we were on our way to the quarantine classrooms when I saw him waiting at the corridor, picking us out one by one from the masses of students. Oh shit. Totally screwed. He raised a ruckus and we had to come up with all sorts of excuses so that he wouldn't find out what had really been happening all along. I don't think he ever did but he was still "very very angry", as he would say in that voice of his. I was really lucky that 20 pushups (that I couldn't even do properly) was all the punishment that came out of the whole affair.

What else. Oh yeah. In the last proper week of school (before the study break for the actual 'O's), Tong began to proclaim that he would break off all ties with me after Friday. I was shattered. I didn't understand why after all this time, after all the things I had done for him and he had made me do, he was pulling the carpet from underneath my feet. Gerald, naturally, was overjoyed and even started a countdown on Friday, reminding us that we had 6 hours and 20 mintues left before he would have nothing to do with me any longer, That became 4 hours and 45 minutes, which became 2 hours and 5 mintues, and as the numbers got lower I just started becoming more and more depressed. All my eggs were in this basket and it was going to be destroyed. I blamed it all on my homosexuality. He doesn't want to mix with me any longer because I'm gay and no one wants to mix with gay people. But I couldn't help it. Of course things didn't turn out that way in the end. After our last paper we went to Bukit Merah SAFRA to play pool and from then on, slowly but surely, I began to establish myself in Tong's life. Gerald and I had said so many bad things to each other over the past 4 years that there was really nothing left to be said and we decided to put everything aside.

Which leads me to the present. I fought so hard for Tong's friendship. I put up with betrayal, humiliation, just bullshit in general, and for what? He can never seem to confirm anything, he tells us not to count on him(going for an outing), he hasn't seen me in months and he doesn't seem to be very bothered. I've taken him down from his pedestal (hell I'm trying to get rid of the pedestal itself - it's not healthy to worship your friends...or anyone in general). My social life is no longer dependent on him. I relate better to and prefer the company of my samazozi friends(and yes that includes you too Lena). Tong's no longer that special individual who I give every priority to. So what gives? As I was writing this I realised that no matter what, Tong will always be special to me in some way, and that if I've managed to put up with him for 6 years, I can put up with him for another 6. We may no longer relate to each other the way we used to(yes I HAVE become a completely different animal over the past year), I may no longer be as tolerant and patient and able to put up with all the nonsense, you may have your girlfriend who you devote most of your attention to, but somehow something inside me is unable to just let you drift away like that. All I'm looking for is some appreciation.

That's all.

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Bringin' On The Heartbreak

Says it all really. We took this photo to represent how we feel about everything that's happened over the past 5 days. No, Meng hasn't suffered from a stroke and Wei Ren hasn't turned into a wax figure (not just yet anyway). We were mourning the demise of our planned holiday to Phuket. But this really goes far beyond that. Phuket was merely the catalyst that tore apart the layers to reveal the stark truth. These layers were meant to protect us and our loved ones. It was almost vulgar how they were suddenly ripped apart. The secrets we tried so hard to keep were suddenly exposed, inflicting new wounds as well as reopening old ones, and the result was hurt and guilt and anger and pain.

I'm more of a supporting actor in this whole spectacle. My own parents are blissfully unaware of what's happened, except that the trip's been cancelled. The only thing I lost was money, and money can always be made again in the future. What upsets me is seeing my friends' anguish and the tough decisions that they've been forced to make. The long conversation we had on Thursday night left a vivid impression on my mind. Will parents EVER understand? They're not moving in the opposite direction, they're on a different set of tracks altogether. As Atticus Finch said, you can only ever really understand a person if you've walked around in their shoes. Thing is, our parents are straight. Can they EVER fit into our Manolos?

I'm not going to say anymore because I'm a supporting actor. It would not be right to talk as if these were my parents or I was the one really going through all the shit. But let me quote the SAMAZOZI (and I think it's a lot more appropriate in this context).

Take care guys and we'll come out of this stronger!

Sunday, October 15, 2006

24 hours

The past 24 hours were a whirlwind of people, places and sounds. It seems to have gone by so quickly which is somewhat scary because I feel time racing forward, pulling me along for the ride. It's hard to sit back and enjoy the moment when that moment is so ephemeral.

And I have had quite a moment to savour over the past day. It was handbag night at Taboo and we were ready for a deluge of mainstream top 40 catchy tunes (what WR calls cheesy music). We weren't disappointed. From Together Again to Get Together, Bag It Up to Hung Up, It's Raining Men to He Wasn't Man Enough (OK what IS with all the similar names), we were treated (or tortured, depending on your preferences) to one gay anthem after another. It didn't hurt that I had 2 bottles to drink. I really danced to the point of no return, to the point where my knees started to ache (age is catching up la), and I was sweating like Star Jones in a sauna. Which is really amazing when you consider that I hardly ever pespire when I'm at the gym (unless I'm running). Ok maybe that does say a lot about how hard I push myself in Cali, but that's not the point is it?

It just passed by too quickly. Soon enough we were at Maxwell, talking to this Mexican chap who was attracted to the men-magnet, while eating BAK CHOR MEE, a perennial favourite. Let's just say that he's only 25, has his own business, gets to travel the world, and is a friend of Ricky Martin. If that doesn't make you just a little jealous, he's also rather gorgeous, comes from a wealthy family, apparently has FOUR Louis Vuitton suitcases in his hotel room and gets VIP seats at Madonna's concerts and invites to party with her. And you know what the best part is? He isn't the least bit arrogant or smug. Very affable and down to earth. I was telling WR it really sucks for him to meet this perfect specimen of man only to have him leave the very next day, but that's life I suppose. We really SHOULD be heading down to CANCUN after Phuket!

I woke up this morning at 11.30 for some reason, without any alarm ringing or any particular noise. It's really wonderful to have 5 and a half hours of sleep. Gerald picked me and Lena up around an hour later and we headed for Vivocity, the latest (and allegedly biggest) mall to hit Singapore. It didn't feel as big as it should have. Ngee Ann City seems a lot bigger actually. Hmmm. Then again I didn't have enough sleep and felt very light at some point so maybe my judgement cannot be trusted. Most of the stores were open but a couple of VITAL (to me anyway) ones were not, namely AX and Diesel. There was the Gap, Zara, Pull and Bear, Topshop, basically the whole catalog of fast fashion stores that I loathe to love. A few other unique boutiques seemed promising but I was so fucking tired and in no mood to sift through garbage to find treasure. I felt that the interior left much to be desired, although the open spaces were rather refreshing. I decided to cam whore today so here are the RESULTS.
This was on the second click, the first one was just weird.
Again, this wasn't the first shot. I think it was the third. Lena had problems with her pose. She resembled a corpse for some strange reason. Do I not look FIERCE? Tyra would be so proud of me!
Group picture. We had to behave like tourists and ask someone to help us. I don't really like that sort of thing either but sometimes I suppose you have to put away all these false pretences. If you really think about it, there's nothing wrong with asking a stranger to help you take a group photo. It's not like you're asking for a blowjob you know?

We watched The Departed at the spacious new multiplex. Only complaint being that there are no toilets in the cinema and you actually have to go downstairs where you will find a teeny tiny toilet. Poor design. Boo. Directed by Martin Scorsese and feautring a star-studded cast (Matt Damon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Jack Nicholson, Martin Sheen, Mark Wahlberg and Alec Baldwin), it's basically a police-mafia drama, with the central twist being that both sides have informants on the other. And so the race is on to see which side can uncover the rat first. It has the most splattering of blood that I've seen since Munich (NOTHING can top that), and most of the cast ends up dead by the time the credits roll. I had this feeling at certain points that this movie was never going to end, becuase it does stretch for 2 hours plus. That being said, certainly worth the $8 and it is memorable (unlike say Miami Vice, which I forgot that I even watched a fortnight later).

Oh yes after our movie we bumped into Jeff(still looking the same!) at 7-11. This enabled me to see the manifestations of my mistake. He was hanging out with 2...shall we say very young guys (they were afraid that their ID would be checked for The Departed, which has an M-18 rating, so you do the math). And I'm thinking, shouldn't Jeff be hanging out with US instead? It's so sad that all we have to say to each other now are polite pleasantries when we used to be best friends (well I considered him mine in any case). That's what I get for being such a prick. It wasn't entirely my fault la but I could have chosen not to make the decisions that I did. All spilt milk now anyways. You live you learn.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Hair, Where?

I love the monthly haircut. Mainly because I get to recline in the washing chair while someone lathers my hair with pleasant smelling lotions and proceeds to massage the various points of my cranium. It's one of those opportunities to just lie back in languor while enjoying the soothing rhythm of those hands rubbing and prodding. The best wash I've had so far was at Next in Holland Village. It was 10 serious minutes of pampering and the decor's rather chic. But I wasn't fond of the cut and well, isn't that what we look for when deciding on a good salon?

So today I found myself at Urban Hair by Ginrich, repeating old rituals.

"Hi, I'm here to cut."
"Ok...do you have an appointment?"
"No."
"Is this your first time here?"
"Yes."

It always seems to be my first time because I can't settle on any particular salon. None of the cuts have really wow-ed me. Maybe it's just my godawful hair la. I suppose you could call me a salon whore because I have made the rounds. The thing about being the newbie is that you always seem to get the youngest and most inexperienced stylists. If they knew any better, they would actually give you a good one so that you would be more inclined to come back the next time, but I digress...

Sadly, my hairstylist had a very...apologetic way of washing and cutting hair. When it came to the massage, he was basically not using ANY strength la! A weak poke here, a feeble prod there. It was almost as if my face were made of some fragile material and would crack if he applied any strength. Likewise, he almost seemed SORRY to have to cut my hair, as if each snip of the scissors was removing strands of cashmere from my scalp. I wasn't particularly fond of the result. It seemed more of a TRIM than a haircut. Bugger.

I proceeded to Cali and when Wei Ren saw me he was rather surprised by my haircut. He said it was the best style he'd seen on me! Whee! Peer approval should never be underestimated. Especially approval from someone with very high standards when it comes to just about everything...I think it's all in the styling really. Exactly how much can one $29 haircut differ from another? It's in the way you style the finished product, which I unfortunately am quite useless at.

Another thing about the whole experience that I enjoy is that feeling that you are starting on a fresh page. With each lock of hair that falls, the weight of the past seems to follow suit. It provides some sense of renewal. A rebirth if you will, and I ain't talking 'bout that FLOP album here...

While we're on the topic of revival, the latest Roberto Cavalli ads featuring the indomitable Kate Moss are out...and they're FABULOUS! There are 12 of them so I'm just going to post 4 favourites.
I love how the billowly, ethereal dress is brought down to earth by the bangles. Kate looks stunning!

I've always been a fan of Cavalli designs. They're unique without being over the top like Galliano couture. You can actually visualize a FIERCE, independent woman wearing these clothes to work or brunch or the art gallery...

I love this one. Kate looks like some modern day goddess. Cocaine addicts everywhere have found salvation in their deity! Kidding.

Kate Moss is an inspiration to anyone who's down and out. Splashed across the covers of tabloids one year, splased across the pages of Vogue the next! Of course this is the fashion industry la. ANYWAY I have to get ready for a PUBLIC AFFAIR with the gang! Ciao!

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Exposé

I was late. A good 30 minutes late. Lena was 15 minutes behind schedule but that still made me 15 minutes overdue. I've got major punctuality issues which I choose to blame on the various people I've been mixing with over the past 5 years. Punctuality falls from favour when it isn't repaid.

Perhaps being late was a blessing in disguise because it spared me from having to watch You, Me & Dupree. You & Dupree can go watch it, just leave Me out ok? We settled on Scoop, which I had read about briefly last night, starring Hugh Jackman, Scarlett Johasson and Woody Allen. I've never been much of a Scarlett fan, but she won me over with her portrayal of Sondra, an enthusiastic young reporter who's eager to the point of almost irritating, slightly neurotic, but not to the point where the audience cheers when she's thrown overboard to drown. Hugh Jackman plays a rich aristocrat who's ever so suave and charming, perfect husband material, with the only drawback being that he may have murderous tendencies. Sondra sets out to investigate but finds herself struggling to balace her professionalism with her attraction to this apparently perfect gentlemen. Woody is Sid, a magician who goes by the rather charming moniker of SPLENDINI. I really can't fault his performance - he's WOODY ALLEN for Christ's sake! Lena found herself increasingly agitated with his stuttering though. He was stuttering throughout the movie. But that's what Woody Allen does. So if you want to fault the dog for wagging it's tale or Paris Hilton for being a skanky whore, then go ahead and criticise his stuttering if you must.

I won't spoil the movie (I haven't right?), so I'll just say that it's made by the BBC and if you're into that sort of thing - London, British countryside, British humour and all, you will find it most entertaining. What I still remember of it (and I've got terrible memory) was Sid's mnemonic memory techniques, which included the use of 16 spinning midgets, which I found to be absolutely hilarious. The other thing was when Sondra claimed that she seldom shed tears, although "my nose get's congested when I'm sad." If you can identify with that sort of humour, you won't regret watching it.

So what you waiting for? Get the scoop on Scoop!

Monday, October 09, 2006

The Best Is Yet To Be

A very apt motto indeed. ACS (Independent) has never been content to stay the same for very long. Change has been the only constant here. During my four years, I witnessed what I then thought to be dramatic transformations - the airconditioning and refurnishing of our bird shit infested refectory (indeed the name itself suggested some gloomy room with factory-style tables and benches), turning it into what can best be described as a glossy food court with televisions and pointless potted plants, along with a snazzier sounding appellation; replacement of our painted walls with small coloured ceramic tiles, which we initially found to be most hideous because they reminded us of toilet interiors, but in retrospect were rather unique once you got used to them; the whole Cyber-AC affair (making us the first school in Singapore to actually have a cybercafe), and many other smaller details.

But none of that could prepare me for the massive changes that greeted me when I returned to the alma mater a few months ago. Of course, there was the comfort of the familiar. The stately clock tower presiding over Dover Road (pictured above), the large, double-storied auditorium, site of weekly chapel services and countless special events, and the sheer majesty of 4 levels of classrooms overlooking the flagpoles and open space that formed what I felt to be the physical core of the school.
Note: I realise I've posted this picture previously but I suppose it won't hurt to do so again to give people a visual representation of what I'm trying to describe. I recall coming in late one Monday (actually in Sec 4 I was late rather frequently, and they were surprisingly lenient about it - once when I was sneaking into school around 10am I even bumped into the principal), opening the blue door on the far end, and have the entire 2nd level look up and stare.

A preview of what was in store greeted me when I realised that another class had taken over the physical room that used to be 4.11 Stephen. Which wasn't that big of a deal really because my classroom was still there, it just had different occupants. Walking down those corridors was really a walk down memory lane. Some were great, others awful. I had this sense of great pride, and also of loss. I had lost something which was never coming back again. And I'm not talking about my virginity here.

Having explored the past, it was time to embrace the present. Michael and I took the walk over to the new campus. It was really a shock to the system. I could hardly believe I was in the same ACS (I). When viewed from afar, the new building sort of displaced the clock tower as the centre of the school. It really led to a realignment of the physical dynamics, if I'm making any sense. I did appreciate the tribute to the old campus by way of the classrooms being arranged in a curved manner. It's always been one of the more distinct architectural features of the school. But everything else felt dead to me. It was a beautiful campus, no doubt about that. I felt left in the cold because I had no memories there. It wasn't the AC that I knew simply because it didn't exist when I was still wearing that white shirt and navy blue bermudas. I'm sure that those who are lucky enough to study there will have many fond recollections when they return in the future. I didn't. Couldn't!

We headed for the new administrative offices (this being AC (I), it was really a given that the senior admin would take the opportunity of a new campus to build spanking new premises for themselves too), which looked more like the top floor of some big multinational. Michael actually GASPED aloud when he saw Drong's office. When Michael Ang gasps aloud, you KNOW that it really is a sight to behold. Nice leather chairs and plush carpeting!

Having seen the future, we were ready to go back to what we knew of the school. AC was having some sports day (on a Saturday no less, so much for the 5-day week huh), and everyone was assembled at the track. Saw a few old teachers and talked to a couple of them. I never really knew a whole bunch of teachers, but I trust that those who I do won't forget me too easily. Chew Kah Wai was unrelenting in her quest for donations, and I have yet to get back to her =p. Yong Lee Har was less aggressive (she had already gotten money from me a while back anyway) but I don't really recall our conversation. Han Kok Peng, my dear Chinese teacher, was the most friendly, chatting away loudly and incessantly. She was very welcoming, inviting us to grab a bite from the buffet (meant for staff only of course) and even getting me drinks. I was asking her about what I should do in university and she advocated taking Law because her niece was doing that and still had enough time to play mahjong. How very logical. We stayed for the teacher's race although I didn't recognise half of them. Lots of cute juniors too =p

I haven't been back since then. Many people think of AC guys as arrogant and elitist, but it's really hard to understand the culture unless you have experienced it for yourself. I was only in the AC family for 4 years, far less than some of my peers, but that experience left an indelible impression on me, and helped to shape the person I am today.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Fumbling To Salvation

Fairytales. Everyone's heard them. They play familiar (and comforting) tunes to the wretched masses. There will be light at the end of the tunnel (just hope that it isn't an oncoming train). Prince Charming will save you from your eternal sleep, or that poisoned apple lodged rather unglamourously in your throat, or those evil stepsisters with large, ugly feet. All you have to do is wait and never give up hope. Because hope springs eternal. Or does it?

In this age of instant gratification and ever soaring expectations, is it still worthwhile...indeed does it still make sense...to wait for our Prince to save us? Will he come riding in on his white horse to sweep us off our feet, or are we better off taking control of the damn reins and charting our own course through the forest of life?

Last year I was desperate to get into a relationship...ANY relationship. I had only ever had one before, and it lasted for all of a week so I never really counted that as a proper long-term relationship. To give you an idea of how desperate I was, I actually considered revising my definition to include above-mentioned pseudo relationship as a proper one. There, I had one ex! I was constantly whining to friends about how lonely I was, or about how so and so wasn't attracted to me, and how a relationship was all I needed to be happy. My first resolution for 2006 was to find a boyfriend. Right now I'm wondering if I should really be writing all these TRAGIC (yes this is my new 'it' word) secrets here, but let's just continue...

So when the opportunity presented itself at the beginning of the year, I jumped at it. The guy wasn't exactly cute, and he didn't speak really well, and his friends were cheenapoks, but I was willing to give him a chance. Why close the door before even exploring what's inside? I even bought CHOCOLATES for him once, which I had never done before of course. Buying stuff for your date. And I thought "Ooh so this is what it feels like to be seeing someone..." I know it sounds so dreadful, but it actually goes back to when I was with Tong and he was buying chocolates for his girlfriend. And he told me, "Simon, one day you'll know what it feels like to be buying things for your...boyfriend." I clung on to that and wanted to experience it for myself very much.

It didn't last beyond 10 days. I grew more and more ambivalent as time went by. Why am I doing this? He certainly wasn't going to be the last one, I couldn't see myself living with him and introducing him to my parents. It just wasn't going to work in the long-run. And I was unable to continue deceiving him...and myself. His name was Anthony. LOL. He was of the opinion that being in the dating game for nearly a decade gave him the right to analyse your every action. He loved to compartmentalize your behaviour into different boxes, like office stationery, each box belonging to memories of some ex or another. It made me want to scream, I AM ME. Once again, Ashlee comes to the rescue with rays of light and guidance.

A month after that fiasco I found myself in another one. Jeremy. Hmmm...I don't really want to talk about it because the memory of it all still makes me want to cringe. He wasn't exactly unattractive. Just very young looking. And I'll never forget the time my mum asked about my "young friend" and I felt like some dirty pedophile. He was only 2 years younger but for the record I'm not the kind of person who can date younger guys. He was, in a nutshell, weird. Strange. Queer. Peculiar. Odd. You get the idea. He liked to sing, and sing he DID, including one very public performance of his own composition at the Yamaha shop at Plaza Singapura that made me want to bury my head in the ground and never come out. He also had these very strange religious beliefs about spirits and being able to see them that made me very uneasy. I also hated the fact that when I wanted to go out with my friend (Jireh actually hahaha), he presumed that he would be part of the party. I can't tolerate that feeling of being trapped by someone. My freedom is very important to me. Freedom to do what I want without being questioned, freedom to hang out with who I please, freedom to have my own personal space once in a while. It just seemed so stifling. And at the end of the day, he wasn't someone I wanted to be stifled by unfortunately. It lasted 10 days. Again. My journal entry for that day was Oops!...I Did It Again.

So here...here I am again. And I'm staring at these same four walls alone again. What have I learnt really? I still am waiting for the right person to come along. I'm not really bothering to actively search for him. Because my hope doesn't spring eternal and it's been expended over the past year. But if there's anything useful I've learnt from these quagmires, it's that a relationship is not going to save me. It's not going to be the one-way ticket to happy. It can't validate me as a person, because only I can do that.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Idols & Icons

Quite scary actually. The latest waxworks of Madam Tussad's unveiled!

Gotta love Cher and Madonna.

I do wonder what attacts me to female singers. Look at my I-pod and the true extent of this abnormally is exposed.

1. Hung Up - Madonna - 161
2. A Public Affair - Jessica Simpson - 98
3. Sorry - Madonna - 81
4. Just Want You To Know - BSB - 68
5. One - Mary J Blige ft U2 - 66
6. Get Together - Madonna - 63
7. We Belong Together - Mariah - 63
8. SOS - Rhianna - 61
9. Hips Don't Like - Shakira ft. Wyclef Jean - 60
10. Jump - Madonna - 57
11. Don't Forget About Us - Mariah - 51
12. Fall To Pieces - Avril Lavigne - 50
13. Invisible - Ashlee Simpson - 49
14. Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson - 48
15. Get Right (Remix) - J Lo ft. Fabolous - 44
16. My Only Wish This Year - Britney - 42
17. Behind These Hazel Eyes - Kelly Clarkson - 42
18. Bad Girl - Madonna - 38
19. Over - Lindsay Lohan - 37
20. Something I Never Had - Lindsay Lohan - 37

You may realise that the only song here without any female vocals is the BSB's Just Want You To Know...which is really just a rehash of Since U Been Gone. Nick Lachey is actually at #21 with What's Left Of Me - 36 spins. But to find the next male-only song you would have to scroll all the way down to #75(!!) where you will find Greenday's Wake Me Up When September Ends - 25 spins.

IT'S TRAGIC!

I'm surprised to see Bad Girl in the top 20. Excellent tune. For those of you wondering why Britney only has one entry in the top 20, I have this theory that I've already listened to sooo much of her in the past (this list is only from the Simon I-Pod era, which began in July '05), on my DISCMAN and MD Player. Oh how times have changed from those days!

You can tell quite a bit about me from my playlist. Mainly that I have RUBBISH taste in music. Haha. Or should I say, its very commercial la. I have no patience for Tori Amos or Bjork or Ella Fitzgerald, and I make no pretenses about it. Looking at the list does make me feel a tad embarassed tho'. AIYO it's very TRASHY la.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Full Circle

I've got this bitch of a sore throat. The guys say that I sound better like this. Apparently it's "more manly" and "less grating". Yipee. Have I really become some tragic caricature of a gay man? I once thought it was a tap that I could turn on and off at will. Maybe it's time for a re-evaluation. I used to think that masculinity was an asset. I mean, gay people like GUYS after all. If they wanted some prancing sissy they wouldn't BE gay would they? This was followed by a strategic shift to the flam-is-glam school of thought. We ARE gay, we have our own distinct (some would say stereotypical) characteristics, why shouldn't we celebrate them instead of trying to conform to the ideals of straight people? Perhaps the best answer to our woes is simply to be ourselves. Thing is, in this day and age when we are confronted by a barrage of images and ideals from an interminable number of directions, are we always aware of who we are as individuals?

Which got me to thinking, who am I as an individual? I may have made the transition from repressed straight-acting (to the point where it's almost boring) homosexual to overtly flamboyant, flaming, flailing (OK you get the idea) DI-VA, and I may have threw away my old clothes and gotten myself a better wardrobe (both literally and figuratively), but I'd like to think that the core of who I am, that which defines me beneath all the layers of bullshit and drama, has remained the same over all these years.

I allow myself to be defined by others. This is not to say that I have no individuality and am some blank screen for others to project images onto, but rather reflects who I am as a person - I generally like to go with the flow. I'm not really a confrontational person (but back me into a corner and I'll fight like a mad dog). Thus, I'm content to be influenced by the opinion of my peers. Which of course can be a terrible thing sometimes, but I suppose it's a product of my craving for acceptance. So why not be straight-acting and increase your chances of being accepted by mainstream society? Don't you like to go with the flow? Yes, but only when that doesn't conflict with my own ideals and beliefs. In fact, I also have a subversive streak. Sounds contradictory?

Well welcome to my second characteristic. I can be a ball of contradictions. I don't think that makes me a hypocrite - I don't like hypocrites very much. Allow me to quote from Ashlee Simpson, that wise sage. "Nobody's really seen my million subtleties..." I do have many facets to my personality. Certainly not one of those people who advertises himself as "just a simple boy". I'm not.

I'm not made to be alone. Most normal human beings do generally prefer to be in the company of others. In this instance, I'm happy to repprt that yes, I am a normal human being. I may be shy and reserved at first, but once I'm comfortable with a group of people I find great joy in being around them and sharing in their triumphs and defeats. I need 'me time' too of course, who doesn't? But I'd much rather spend my time with friends than by myself, thank you very much. I love a good laugh, but that doesn't mean I won't stick around during those moments of tears either. I don't quite know if I'm a romantic at heart. I've become far too jaded and cynical in that department to really take a good look at what is under the hardened core. I hope I still am. I really do.

Finally, loyalty. Ooh loyalty is a tricky one. Make no mistake, it's VERY important to me. A relationship without loyalty is no relationship at all. But the problem here is that my loyalty is often very focused, very defined. It isn't spread out for the world to enjoy. I am only loyal to people I feel deserve it. I don't always make the right decisions. There has been an instance where I had this delusional notion of loyalty to one friend that made me disloyal to another. Let's just say that wasn't my finest hour. I'm working on it.

Really, I'm working on who I am as a person constantly. Like MISSY ELLIOT, I'm still UNDER CONSTRUCTION. Sometimes I don't like what I see in myself and make changes. Sometimes I fight to keep what I feel is essential to my personality. I do feel that since the...troubles...of last year, I have come full circle in more ways than one. It isn't always clear cut, but then hardly anything worth fighting for ever is.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Worn Out

Like all those t-shirts hanging forlornly in my wardrobe, I'm terribly worn out. Had 5-ish hours of sleep and a cup of coffee, which has managed to keep me awake till now. Last night the holy trinity made our big return to TABOO, with 2 other bitches in tow, Lula Lena and Meng's friend Jon aka the male nurse.

MOX was super-crowded with paparazzi waiting to take pictures of our return, which also meant that we were unable to find a decent place to sit for the longest time. I love the smoke-free, chill-out environment of MOX. Perfect place to sit back, relax and unwind, while listening to lounge music and raising your voice so that the person seated on the other end of the table can hear you. However, it must be said that you wait an eternity for your alcohol, which almost always turns out to be limp. Like patron's wrist like drink, I suppose. I had a cosmo (how very very Carrie) and we toasted to Ashlee Simpson, which was completely random but she was the first thing that came to my mind, which should give some idea as to what a tragic state my mind is in.

CHOO WEI REN was late because he took a lift from his friends and then proceeded to EAT at Maxwell. Aiyo. But I don't blame him because a big portion of clubbing expenses are actually on taxi fares. Hell, if I could get a lift, I'd be late too...So there we are standing outside TABOO, waiting for express, carte blanche entry, when Jireh comes speeding down the corridor like some kid suffering from Tourette's, and proceeds to literally JUMP onto Wei Ren and smother him with his scrawny body. Charming.

I froze for a second when I saw his scraggy ass. I was nervous. Old feelings rushed back from my subconscious. Anger. Disappointment. Fear. Confusion. Sadly, feelings that I am still unable to let go of, for this goes far beyond Jireh and deep into my catastrophic past. He's merely the latest proxy for all those damn emotions to resurface and haunt me. But hey, we live and learn. He didn't stay for long, left soon after we entered, and the anxiety faded back into the shadows.

To be perfectly honest, the music at Taboo was, for lack of a better word, utter shit, bar Sexyback, Sweet Dreams, and some kooky remix of Vogue. But throw a little bit of alcohol into the mix (I'm cheap), and I went from bored to semi-delirious in under 10 mintues. What can I say, I accelerate really quickly. So there I was, twirling and shamelessly flailing around the dancefloor, while Lena whored herself out to Meng and Jon like some 2 cent hoe from Patpong. Wei Ren's back was injured (probably because of Jireh pouncing on him earlier) so he didn't dance as much, but we all had loads of fun! My favourite part was when we formed this circle and started behaving like idiots, jumping around and swaying to and fro. At that point, I felt liberated, free from all worry for those fleeting moments. It's like the Love At First Sight video, when you get that very light sensation and feel like you could start flying. WHEE! *flaps arms like a bird*

After a few hours of partying (and one very awkward kiss later), we went outside to sit on the sidewalk like vagabonds in Bangkok. Smoking, sitting in trashy postions, singing bad songs and chit chatting with the owner of the place, our fabulous golden butteferly Adeline. He was lamenting the fact that when he went home, he became a mouldy brown moth, and I realised that the sacrifices one has to make for the sake of one's career really apply across the board, and not just to professions like medicine, law, architecture or accountancy. It seems very hard to make any room for one when you are committed to the other, which is very scary for someone like me who has very big career ambitions but also yearns for an active social life and that special someone to come home to at the end of a long day.

Met the guys at Cali today for what can only be described as a half-hearted work-out. We were discussing CHOO'S lofty standards, and how most guys in Singapore would hopelessly fail to attain them. And when they inevitably did not succeed, he would say 'BYEBYE' and push them back to the holes they crawled out from. Which brings me to a question. When searching for that special someone, should we always bat within our league? My answer would be yes, unless someone higher up feels charitable enough to entertain you. Thing is, there are so many considerations nowadays that the picture gets distorted. Firstly (and most importantly), we have to consider looks. First impressions count. I would lump grooming and dress sense into this, because they determine how we ultimately appear to others. Then comes the communication factor. Someone may look good, but if he opens his mouth and all that comes out are mangled fragments of English, then that is a huge turn-off. In such a situation, one is entitled to fuck/or get fucked by said individual before giving him the boot. I would include interests and preferences in this category, because these do help to determine how well a couple can communicate. Someone who listens to S.H.E or 5566 is unlikely to click with one who prefers Madonna and Janet. Thirdy, we cannot forget social background. It's not as important at our age (20 years YOUNG), but when you do grow up, having a social grand canyon doesn't exactly help a relatioship to flourish. This may or may not be related to the second consideration. As a general rule of the thumb, someone who speaks good English is more likely to be successful than someone who can't to save his life, but this is not a guarantee. Last (and least), character. This is the chance for those in the lower leagues of other categories to try and play catch-up, but for some reason it doesn't seem to carry as much weight in the initial stages of the relationship. If you don't score well in the first 3 categories, Prince Charming isn't going to have the patience to wait for your character to shine through. And that is very sad because as a relationship progresses, everything else takes a back seat to character.

So that's my analysis. I do feel that I've given an accurate (tho' stereotypical) account of the dynamics in the gay dating scene. Feel free do disagree.

In decidedly more trashy news, BRITNEY is on the cover of Q magazine's special edition celebrating 20 Pop icons. She's one of only 5 female singers, along with Madonna, Kate Bush, Beyonce o_O, and Dido o_O o_O to make the list. Each icon has their own cover, which means fanatics have 20 covers to collect (I seriously doubt anyone would - someone who wants the Peter Townshend cover isn't likely to want Britney, and vice-versa). This surely is testament to Queen B's status as THE pop culture icon of her generation (Christina, Jessica, N'sync, BSB etc etc). Don't ask me what Beyonce and her damn chinchilla coat or boring, bland Dido are doing on the list. Here are the pics!

I hafta say, among all the covers, B-girl's is the most interesting visually. The rest of them mostly look like obituaries, while Madonna's pose is same ol' same ol' and Beyonce used one of her loony B'day pictures.
Britney ain't got no time for 'em haters, she don't giveafuck!

It really is amazing how my love for Ms Spears can turn me into such an idiot sometimes.
Beautiful!

I need to get laid.