Puss

This is our resident cat, Shifty. Also known as puss.
He just wants a hug, bitch. Give it to him.

[insert title here]

心是寂寞客厅一地空的酒瓶
爱来去不定那些憧憬再无人认领
各有各的曾经
但孤独却同名同姓
谁还需要爱情总是下落不明
偶然生命里同行
忘了烧尽快乐短暂的火星
背后是冷清
也许一阵子一辈子
一阵子一辈子
结果都一样
当真实是讽刺
现实往往太现实
唯有绝望才有希望
能把你遗忘你微笑如往常
好像过去的悲伤都没重量
好像再说我受伤都是说谎

:)

Difference

How do you know when a person is being genuine to you? Is it the look in their eyes? Is it in the movement of their lips when they speak, or the colour of their skin when they blush?

What is it in a person that gives away their authenticity?

Upfront I can tell that people like being around me. Probably for coffees or for chat, or because I'm willing to do the work that nobody else is willing to do, or because I take time to think about the things that people don't usually think about.

People generally have no qualms about me being around them; few people despise me and even fewer want to have nothing to do with me. My presence does not arouse any suspicion or discomfort, nor does it provoke any rage or discontent.

People are happy for me to be around them, probably because I'm passively agreeing to most situations and I tend to keep my thoughts about the things I think about, to myself.

And it doesn't help either that the interests I have are vastly different from those around me.

But I'm not sure to what extent people like ME. How does a person see me as another person? I feel I have been sidelined in many conversations, even in the job that I'm pursuing, or at Uni where I am constantly surrounded by a multitude of people who are just like myself.

I hardly ever made any new friends in the past 6 months because I've been so afraid, so scared to speak up my thoughts and dreams, to challenge another person and to contribute my share of words in a group. My lack of sociability coupled with an absolute zero knowledge about the golden topics, 'drugs', 'music', 'art and culture' and 'who's-who', further leaves me speechless in a crowd.

And so I become sidelined, because I'm uninteresting. Nobody hears me, because I'm silent.

Which accentuates the feeling inside that I cannot afford to explain without using a certain amount of negativity. Not that my blog needs any more of that sort of morbidity.

It is not that I don't want people to acknowledge me.

I just don't know how.

RedRaw

Cloak room boy. A three hour shift in the Metro in exchange for free tickets to RedRaw. Hundreds of nice smelling coats, hundreds of nice smelling boys all coming up to me and entrusting their most valuable possessions to me for a fee. Free champagne and finger food from the organisers, together with a nice tacky tag to hang around my neck to declare to the world that I'm a volunteer.

How much better can this get.

Four levels of the Metro with each level dedicated to a different genre of music. The techno room is filled with Asians and the old-whites-who-like-them, whilst the house room has more of a mixed crowd with a splash or two of dykes here and there.

The main dance floor takes centre stage with beautiful Kylie-inspired disco lights coupled with deafening music from DJ's I'm not too familiar with.

Blazing lights and smoke screens fill the air as men (and women) remove items of clothing to bare flesh (and hair). A parade of divas and drags to launch the event, with our very own Grandpa Acid taking centre stage with a multicolour honeycomb headpiece with colourful blinking lights and large fabric butterflies attached to his wrists.

Some of the drag queens adorn extremely elaborate wigs and tops, with dazzling displays and dresses which would put any straight girl to shame. Cabaret has always been excessive in my eyes, but in a beautiful sort of way.

The boyfriend has come along too, with his mates. I only hang out with him every now and then, hopping from one dance floor to another on my own to look at people and to have fun while he does the same.

Insecurities cloud my mind as I walk through the crowd of semi-naked men gyrating to ear-deafening music. Even in the flashing laser lights you can almost make out the shapes and sizes all around you, from the fat bloke standing in the corner with his leather apparel to the muscular Asian guy dancing on top of the podium to Nelly Furtado's Promiscuous.

Wondering why nobody cute approaches me and tries to pick me up. Perhaps I don't look good enough? I see a lot of people who are coupled, and only a few stragglers like me occupy the sidelines.

Looking at my own body I sense a great form of disappointment at my appearance. Even though many of the 2000 or so people in here are from the not-so-beautiful category, I manage to blot them out and focus only on those who ARE body-beautiful. I constantly feed my mind with images of ripping chests and trunk sized calves. Everywhere around me, muscled men are the only things I see. Observing shaved/waxed/lasered chests, I feel a grave sense of insecurity, notably with regards to the fine hairs all over my body that are beginning to show signs of thickening.

In a distance, an old muscle-mary winks at me and I turn away in disgust. Not backing off easily, he approaches me and grabs my shoulders. What manners!

No energy for the after-party. Heading back home in the train at 6am I notice a bunch of cute gay boys I was eyeing earlier in the day, and to my surprise they alight off at the same train station as I and head off into an apartment nearby, one that I've always thought of living in myself.

Cold air in my face telling me to jump straight into bed, but a warm shower later and I realise that I'm all home alone without the boyfriend who has gone over his mates for congee before the after-party.

What loneliness.

Sleep

Cloudy days. I've not seen weather like this since winter. Outside a balmy fuck-thats-cold-enough-to-freeze-my-balls temperature; I feel pressured to flick the heater switch and blast my room with boiling air.

Across the room in the shadows, I see a faint silhouette of the cat purring under my table. He's left a few furballs near my bed and I have been inhaling the shit all week now. The boyfriend better give him a nice grooming or I'll start getting very unhappy.

Meow.

~

I'm walking around the room in circles, albeit the sun rising outside my window. Pacing myself, I can't think of the reasons why I'm up this late. I find myself feeding my mind with Inaya Day pounding on the stereo. It's not appropriate to listen to music like this at this hour. I'll only get less sleepy.

Chat room is very quiet. Duh. One old dude sends me a text message asking me to show him my private pics. Get fucked.

I've been out of the scene for so long that I have forgotten how to approach a guy and carry out a meaningful conversation. All I find myself spitting out are profanities and references to the Queen, Madonna.

Somehow I've detached myself from the world of online conversations. I've told myself that I do not need this.

A boy says hi to me in the channel. We used to have each other's MSN address, as I discover that he is banned on my Privacy list.

~

Full sunlight now and I'm still wallowing around in my bed. My head is spinning under the bright spotlight that has kept me company since midnight. Cautiously walking across the debris on the floor which had assembled itself over the course of the night, I head for the bathroom to wash my face.

I'm having an argument about the pros and cons of living in Melbourne as opposed to KL with this dude on MSN. He seems to think that KL is inferior to all places, and that Melbourne is the ultimate expression of culture and sophistication.

Funny how I used to think that. I used to belittle my country, belittle my people, belittle my capital city (where I was born bred and probably would die in), and most of all, belittle my past because I thought that a foreign country would be better than my own.

And then I was thrown to a foreign land far far away, away from the pleasures of Char Kuey Teow and Bak Kut Teh, without any Teh Tarik and Nasi Goreng Campur, no daily 3-hour-traffic-jams, without any 25mm-a-day rains, without any crowded and messy roads, without dirty public toilets and without a constantly changing scene; I suddenly realised that life is not so green on the other side after all.

He calls me a cunt. I'm starting to feel like I'm the older and more mature one already.

~

Thunder in my head. I feel dizzy as I put my head against the wall. I hear sounds from the neighbour; they must be waking up now.

Boyfriend’s alarm ringing. It must be time to get out of bed, not that I was ever asleep to begin with.

What am I doing here in this madness?

Photos

I have been looking at the photos that I've taken in the past year and gosh what a year it was! Here are some of the best photos I've taken so far.