Premonitions?

After six hours attempting to complete my essay I am flat out. At this hour the only sounds are from my keyboard, Connex trains on the Sydenham/Werribee lines, trucks on Footscray Rd and the hum of my trusty portable fan.

I quite like having the room to myself; on my table I've built up a collection of things that make me happy. Ear rings/studs from a while ago. Little cutouts of pusscat hidden between pieces of wrapping paper. A bottle of Jungle Juice, half used. I love them all.

Nightmares. It's unusual to have these dreams so early in the day. I've had exactly thirty seven minutes on my pillow but that's enough time to make me reconsider sleeping. It was a dream about mom, she was making me eat soap because I didn't do my homework. Tiny fragments of memory are all that's left of her.

Pampering myself in front of the heater is indulgence; I'm sure pusscat would agree. Greville St. One year ago we were happy, pusscat was healthy and the world was predictable. I miss how he climbed limb onto my lap to say "hug me, bitch". He's gone now.

How do you deal with self-righteousness? Yesterday I thought I was the best person in the world; for the first time I looked at my body in the mirror and considered touching myself, now I didn't mean it that way but I felt I would do me.

Daniel is still coping with a few issues/insecurities of his own, mainly sleep issues I think. I've let myself breathe a little; these days I am beyond obsessing. Maybe I'm still grieving?

Two apartments. I'd like to have one for myself and one for him. Then I can make a little space for myself without intrusions, lavish myself on furniture and fittings he will grudgingly admire, cook horrible smelling things to his disgust and plant a forest in the corner of my brown/beige lounge. Everything will be brown/beige. Straight lines. Clean surfaces. Because minimalist decor seeks feelings, not provides it. Clutter reduces my ability to think.

I admit I'm scared but happy. I have twelve whole weeks to feel good about this place.

Direction

I've been thinking long and hard about the way forward.

Two years later and people are casting doubts on my ability to stay focused. I can't blame them.

Rummaging through the pile of crap on my table I can see what I've started to do. Hoard. I'm letting things accumulate, putting them in little stacks in descending order of importance. Leave it for later. Everything according to priority and space in this universe.

Things have been going really slowly. Been to Euroa for a 21st birthday party. Had some time to think on the paddocks and granite outcrops that dotted it. Lots of unhealthy bogan food to keep my tummy unhappy. Great company, lots of beer and other mysterious things, more time to think. And kissing the lips of a guy not into me, not so clever.

But a weekend away nonetheless. Now it's back to basics, back to searching for direction. Or rather thinking a lot about the arrival of the direction than the direction itself.

Because when I find it I want to be able to say, "told you it was coming".

88th

Sometimes I wish ostriches would teach me the fine art of head-burial.

Daniel has decided I should go along to grandma's 88th to meet 'the rest of the family'. Very talkative and intuitive family. All of a sudden I was the ignoramus who stumbled over simple topics like politics, climate change, IP rights and botany - my own specialty.

The younger ones looked at me like I was onekind. Daniel only introduced me to a select few adults leaving the young ones presumably wondering how this Chinaboy fits into the grand scheme of things. I even considered the interesting dynamic: "technically-I'm-your-cousin-in-law"

Daniel's father took me to his shed and showed me his tools (a very gay sentence already!). A complete workshop; he makes wooden bowls and the house is cluttered with them. He quickly went into a rant about swamp paperbark; Melaleuca ericifolia - it takes 2 years of air drying with no guarantee of results. A mouldy half-finished bowl lay in the corner.

"Don't you have a kiln?" I heard myself say hastily, before realising what an ass I am.

~

Been recovering from a major sore throat. I don't usually get sick so it's unusual to spend on pharmaceuticals - especially OD'ing on Strepsils. I've lost all interest in men; the past 7 days has seen me turn down 5 gorgeous looking men of varying ages/built, all without reason. What's happening?

Shifty's ashes finally returned on the 8th (Monday) and it lives on the storage unit for now. I've made progress - I no longer bawl like I used to though I'm still haunted by flashbacks of Shifty in the cat box at Lort Smith. It seems I harp on mostly the bad things. I've been looking at his photos to fill the void and in the meantime Daniel helps by supplying hugs where Shifty left off. I still doubt the current dose will suffice.

Going to the shrink tomorrow to unload another round of crap. Do shrinks like being hugged?

Stud

I've taken out my tongue stud.

Aside from excessively worrying about the increased risk of STDs, I'm also sick of removing it, brushing it, playing with it, chipping my teeth and having just about every top wanting me to suck them off.

There's a little hole on my tongue where my piercing used to be, and I must admit I feel quite naked without it.

MIFF

Watched a movie called West 32nd, a story about Korean gangsters (who speak American) and lawyers (whoever thought the two were compatible). Dxnixl's choice so it had violence blood and all the gory scenes he loves. I had a hard time adjusting to the cinema seats that were built for midgets... and when the movie finally took off my sleepy mind was busy doing other things (well ok some of the characters had nice shoulders). So I don't really know if I enjoyed it?

It was weird.

On a different note, the launch of the Beijing Olympics was a load of shit. Seriously... children in ethnic costumes holding hands and smiling?? I don't think it was an accurate depiction of a people slaughtered and culturally 'reconditioned'. I won't even start talking about the self-glorification and in your face display of power.

I kept hoping there would be a terrorist attack and a plane would crash through the stadium, killing everyone. That would have been so much more fun (hey, great publicity!), don't you think?

Hotham

Had an unexpected (albeit pricey) reprieve at Hotham. Taking a wrong lift took me to a string of black runs with 60 degree slopes; I was scared so I took my skis off and sat at the edge of the slope overlooking the creek 100m below.

My mistake to down those 4 extra glasses of water. With bladder pressure building I could've pissed in my pants if they weren't rented. It was freaking scary; this slope had gnarly trees surrounding an impossibly steep path with packed snow and skiers going at 10590871908kmph past me. And I won't even PRETEND that I'm novice.

It wasn't cold enough so I started getting moist under the layers. You know how you sweat and plastic sticks to your skin? Well that. Whoever thought making it waterproof INSIDE OUT was a brilliant idea needs to get his/her head bashed against a wall. So I start stripping down to my tank top (seriously it wasn't THAT cold), attracting the curious onlookers who sneer at me. Bloody hospitality.

While I'm busy thinking of an escape plan it starts snowing. Gorgeous. But I quickly discover that snow actually makes you WET. So putting on my Parka I reseal the moisture in, this time COLD moisture fuckk so I'm left doubly uncomfortable, scared like a chook and in desperate need of a piss...

So running out of options I cling onto my skis and slide down the full length of the slope on my fat butt. One of those rare occasions when I'm glad I'm slightly fat.

~

Seriously how do angmohs go about being filthy? Genetic or learned behaviour? Our lodge had a dishwasher but these people, obviously crippled by their whiteness, had no intention of scrubbing their plates and utensils BEFORE putting them into the machine. And coincidentally I was in charge of *dishes* for the day. What joy. Scraping day-old minced beef and pulverised I-do-not-know-what from forks/spoons/plates is a GREAT way to end an already terrifying day at the snowfields.

I'm not even going to mention what I saw on the floor after that. Kinda makes me wonder if all that money spent was actually worth it?

More skiing tomorrow. I will be careful to read signs this time.

Home

Forgive me if this post sounds like it was carelessly composed. In fact it comprises many separate paragraphs written on different dates, stitched together to form a mash.

So we're finally back after 2 weeks in Malaysia/Singapore. The hardest part was getting off the plane; Melbourne welcomed us with fog, rain and 5 degree winds. And to top it off I was jetlagged, dxnixl was cranky, luggage was heavy and my bank account had nothing in it. Joy.

This visit has taught me a lot about myself. KL itself has morphed beyond familiarity; my usual hangouts are gone, swallowed by the angry metropolis of ugly buildings, Protons and coloured people. I had forgotten how to respond to cues like looking in both directions before crossing the road, asking the taxi driver if he will take you to where you want to go BEFORE you step in, or eating with a spoon (yes, seriously). I've never felt so un-Malaysian.

New clubs have come and gone and I'm proud to say the gay clubs definitely delivered. My friends have changed. Some have become ultra gay, others attached and the usual suspects have become so alien that I couldn't muster the courage to meet them over coffee.

Ah, coffee. Without his usual morning fix of Melbourne-style lattes I had to deal with his daily morning PMS. Also the lack of angmoh breakfasts. I just didn't know how to tell him at the time to "fucking get over it", so I accepted his scolding like a bitch and felt really bitter and dirty afterwards.

We were too ambitious with our holiday plans so everything seemed rushed. Also opting to stay with my father was the biggest mistake of the trip. Initially meant to help save on costs, it was severely lacking in comfort. Moving out to a hotel bordering KLCC was hastily made to cement the cracks that were developing and it was an epic save. However Langkawi reversed the trend with their exceptionally horrid service, and Penang food has turned him off Melbourne's Asian-style food forever (yay!).

Singapore offered him some reprieve and he absolutely LOVED it (as per my prediction), and our stay with a friend was fantastic (bless her). We even did the Singapore flyer and a quick dinner with my closest relative was really emotional (in the best way possible). Great clubbing at St. James Powerhouse although not so hot Singaporen boys were perving at gorgeous me all night. *wink*

I later asked him, "Why don't we ever have make up sex?"

"well we don't argue very much!"

~

He has been offered a few jobs in KL and Singapore. In particular I have decided that Honours is not for me and so I will graduate this December. Which means, more responsibilities, less protection and the eventual move-home-to-Malaysia.

Jitters

On a Thursday night, at Golden Monkey drinking cocktails with a friend. This place... I've been here so many times and I still like it. Here I had 1L sake with dxnixl when we first started dating. Here I had birthday parties, meetings, events and dramas. This place is scandalous but I'm loving every bit of it.

But I go for the most boring drink of all = a Lychee martini.

I bought dxnixl a very nice Samsonite travel bag costing me a fortune. But it's sturdy with a 4yr warranty and he needs to move away from his... lets say... CHEAPER luggage. It's only 48 hrs till we leave for Malaysia and I'm already having the pre-travel jitters. Thinking about the million of things that could go wrong on this trip. OCD is a constant battle between the voices in my head and my sanity.

Tomorrow we also take the cat to the cat hotel but because of his condition (FIV) he will have to be isolated from other cats. Which is a real worry; will he get enough space to play around? Food - is it tasty enough for him? Strangely I've become attached to our cat even though I promised myself I wouldn't. I will miss him very much. Did I just say OUR cat?

I'm distracting myself from the bigger questions like how do I manage this relationship to the best of my ability. It's good that he's becoming more cheerful because of this trip, but what happens after? Back to the same old routine? We need to find new ways to have fun together not new excuses to have a shout.

Apple crumble. The friend wants to have it and I can't for my life think of a place to get it. So we end up at Crown, in a restaurant facing the Yarra, having sinfully rich pudding with ice cream and coffees, when my friend goes "yeah I'd like to try that with you". Not paying attention, I spin my head and go "what, what, what??"

"Try boots."

"Oh."

~

This is the last train to leave Flinders St station. It's cold outside; condensation is forming on the train windows and trickling down onto the carriage floor.

Getting home I find dxnixl fast asleep with pusscat right next to him. I'm in love.

New

Three holes indeed.

And it's like, omg I'm speaking like a three year old. Dxnixl is having fun doing this to me. INSULTING MY SPEECH. He loves it when I trip over the d's and the t's, so he asked me to pronounce 'detention' and I fell right into it.

But otherwise he's having a shit time with my new piercings. I think he's worried I will one day come home with breasts and pink pantyhose. Actually it's kind of cute that he's taking so much offense in the 'new me'. It's like I enjoy all the attention I'm getting.

So I've learned that the tongue is very important for eating. This is after I had marmalade toast and a banana - lets just say blood tastes better when you're not actually in pain. And no, two front teeth cannot be used to chew through toast.

Mental note: get babyfood.

The toilet is also feeling the shits (literally). Everything out my end is wet, lumpy, gooey, and oh so yucky. This is what happens when you have soup four times in a row.

And yes I saw bits of corn (from the Minestrone). This is going to be an interesting recovery.

Is?

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.


I am having trouble writing. Taking some time out on a Friday night, just sitting at home with the cat and the stereo in the background. Well actually the cat is sitting on me. Warm pussy yum.

Tomorrow I will get three holes in me. Which is great I think; I'm finally getting the hang of dealing with this kind of shit. Oh dear lord the lady downstairs is listening to NIN. Which would be fine if she was 50 years younger. I must say I'm pretty shit at music for a 21yo. Shame on me.

And don't ever think about laser hair removal if you're a wuss. Don't believe the ads - it REALLY hurts. And this is the first in a total of 5 sessions. Ouch.

Switch

My computer is giving me the shits. Everytime I come up with a thought, the screen goes dead black. This is the fifth time I'm typing this out, and if it crashes again so be it I'm off to bed. Time to think about splurging on a Powerbook.

Same old shit. Arguing a lot more now; we get into each other's head space and there's no way out other than our respective rooms. He sees himself 'fathering' me, I see myself 'expecting it'. Within two months of intense work/play/study we've become father-and-son. What a FANTASTIC thought, don't you think. But at least we can still talk (major plus point).

This time I'm the emotional vampire. Note to self: book in for an appointment to see a counselor. I need to get it out of my system fast before he packs up and leaves.

Which is a real worry. I've seen people leave me; mom dad brother relatives friends pseudo-friends. Every time it happens I go into a panic attack trying to salvage what's left of it, making it worse because I fuck that up too. And then they truly and wholly take a one-way-ticket-out-of-my-life, I go into depression, burn through my MSN list and finally go out like a flame.

It took me 2 years to get over Chris, my first ever major meltdown. What I find difficult is not the "being single" part (which I love) but the act of someone leaving. Back then it constituted huge bouts of unprotected sex, alcohol abuse, midnight excursions to secluded spots, and an ocean of tears. Climbing up again was difficult and it took many failed attempts of self-harm to finally say, "I'm going to sit in a corner and milk the unhappiness out until there's none left."

I'm generally a happy person these days, a far cry from the vampire I used to be. But every now and then I slip; I go back to being Mr Hyde in short doses and just like the story I'm losing control over the frequency of those slips. If I don't act quickly to remedy it then all may be lost.

Same Game

God Save The Queen; Rawhide party 11 days before the exams = the right thing to do. $250 later and I'm not so sure, but the night was a long one, Alcopops are expensive (classy though) and Rawhide is different when you're chemically altered in a sea of naked men.

You think that turning up on your own is a great idea in case you pick up but having unmet expectations is not cool. For me clubbing is a conscious decision to bare yourself - whether you're gorgeous or gross, wasted or sober; everybody is watching, judging, selecting and eliminating. Things-I-Do-To-Feel-Precious

But today I was determined to have wicked fun, and so I did.

~

For a moment there I felt conscious I was dancing alone but god saved this queen - chemicals knocked me back and the podium was all mine for 7hrs. The effect carried on till the afterparty; a quick KFC with, of all people, ryan, before snubbing him.

The comedown was a bit rougher - it was my turn to get snubbed. Dxnixl reckons I was pushing my youth in-their-face. Either way people started avoiding eye contact, turning their backs to me, giving me the evil-eye. So just like Lacey Chabert (Gretchen) in Mean Girls, I shot back the look of "I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me... but I can't help it that I'm so popular..."

I know, right?

Cab home all by myself. I had a lovely night.

~

Me: "Why did we ever stop coming here"
D: "Because everybody started"

My "Sex and the City" moment in Globe. But a hearty Spanish Breakfast followed by Borders is a welcome return to society. Dxnixl is always holding my hand (or me on a leash, whichever is more romantic) which stops me from falling hard after a trashy night out. Sometimes I wonder how I'd ever stand up again if not for his constance. And to top it off he cooked me spag bol for dinner. I now feel the need to be punched every time I nag about the dishes :/

Beyond Vanilla

The past week has been less interesting; first the end of my semester then half a week without dxnixl followed by a long weekend where all I did was hide under the sheets and hope the fog outside would disappear.

Vanilla is starting to bore me. There's less thrill and anticipation when you've done it to death. I must admit there's something about being roughed up and pushed to realms beyond my limits and experiencing a bit more than just suck/fuck/cum. A few sessions in the past were ok except there was still an agreed end point much like vanilla.

Started a profile on Recon, chatted with a few guys (and banned twice as many) - I can actually see myself doing this. On the other hand I'm starting to feel naked because I have no gear; here people have full body suits, hoods, jackets, wrist cuffs, straps and paddles, rings and chains, plugs and boots etc. while I seem almost vanilla with my cheap chest shots of nothing-much-to-show-just-looking-here. Gear is expensive and I'm not confident enough to go into a shop and blow $1000 on leather.

So is it all about confidence? Maybe the issue is less about BDSM and more of looking for ways to get out of my comfort zone. If you think subs are weak then you're wrong - it takes a fair bit of bravery to let someone take control over you and do as they please.

Which begs the question - dom or sub? I think I will have trouble disciplining men older than me. Actually not many young Asians are into kink, another plus point I suppose because I don't have to rub elbows with LV-carrying whores with bleached hair and a fake accent. But the smell of leather/chrome/used boots omg. Also keen on trying chasity for a week or so until I go crazy and beg to be released. Okay this post is starting to sound more like smut but that's where my headspace is at.

For now I'm just looking, learning and questioning, but the real challenge is to relax and go right into it with no reservations. That's the point isn't it?

Feet In The Feathers

Shirt off. Yellow Onitsukas and size zero jeans. Smirnoff red in one hand, fingers of a boy in another. Fuck-all attitude, dancing to Toca's Miracle under green lasers and blue spotlights. No thoughts, no unhappiness, no fucking worries.

And for once my chest was the only thing that hurt.

More alcohol. No pills so alcohol will suffice. Sleazy guy I've seen before, coming onto me again. I say fuck off with a flick of my fingers. How long will I have this youthful 'empowerment'?

Face in the sink. Water tastes of a century of grime. On the floor, tissues and cum stains (?), eww. I'm with a few boys now. Glad to know you too.

Wrestle my demons. Coming down is never easy, even if you've got three others to hold you. I think I need to play my game better. Too much to drink now. Plasma TV showing Sunshine - end scene where he gets blown up as the spacecraft plunges into the sun's atmosphere. Nice.

~

TAXI!!

None found. Those that zoom past us pick people who look straighter than me and Mxtt. "But your house is in the fucking wrong direction" I hear myself say. He's into a cab and back down Church St. while I mull over the direction of Dynon Rd from here.

Whopper makes its way out from my mouth into the gutter. Tram arrives. I hop in and pass out under the tram's fluorescent lights.

Piercings

When they say it hurts, well, they are partially correct – it is not that bad!

Further extending my 'week of firsts' I decide it's time to get piercings. I book myself in for 4 piercings - 2 lobes and 2 nipples at Commercial Rd. How do you prepare for these things? Google is your friend...

...and Youtube is not. Seven videos of people getting their nipples mutilated and I'm running for the door. Piercing artists HAVE to be sadists. Jabbing a bloke in their areolas then squeezing a bar through the hole is just cruel.

A quick chat with a msn buddy/doctor is just asking for trouble. Keloids, he says. Internal scar tissue that will perk my nipples up (is that necessarily a bad thing?). And a whole lecture about infections and swelling and the etc. Doctors can be so technical.

I spend another week toying with the idea before I decide it is best to skip the nipple piercings (for now) and just do the lobes (afterwards I hear myself say the word 'coward' a million times).

Inking followed by two sharp pricks and it's all over. Yada yada yada about the salt solution etc, I just wanted to get out of there, away from the sterile surrounds and the people in the waiting room.

Bling bling. Nana at the tram stop shows me her gold teeth. She must have noticed my sparklies.

Nice.

E

A week of firsts. I'm bored with being conservative, suppressed and indecisive.

2 minute walk from my apartment. Too easy. Straight pub where the locals hang out for a pot of beer. And yet past the cheap aluminum chairs, beer stained carpets, vinegary Sauv Blanc and locals in daggy shirts, they have the best paellas ever.

You can't say no to a good paella. Crabs, calamari, fish fillets, shellfish on a bed of rice and garlic with dustings of saffron, onions, tomatoes and fresh lemon slices. The rule is never to use the crab crackers - teeth will suffice. And fingers.

Rancid oil on my $99 polo. Yellow saffron seafood stench on your fingers. Washing is futile. But omg my tummy. How do you say no to a third, fourth, fifth serve?

Dxnixl is less sympathetic. He says I'm anorexic and therefore should eat more. My expanding waistline disagrees.

~

How much for a pill? I don't know these things. But a halfie later and I still feel nothing. Dxnixl reckons another halfie - omg sharing cubicles to pop vitamins is just not cool. The Market is full of str8 women and the men who love them, also many Asians? I can't make out why there are people wearing suits and ties when everyone else is half naked on the dancefloor.

Smoke. Bad music. Body odour. Pills are meant to take those things away, not enhance them! A few cute boys on the dance floor look at me and we exchange glances. I’ve forgotten that feeling for a while now.

4.27am. "I'm PEEEAAAAAKKKINGGGG!!!!", I say to Dxnixl. My first pill ever. A boy finally grows up.

Ida Corr Vs Fedde le Grand. My limbs have gone totally spastic. Dxnixl is loving it too; he sits in a dark corner watching me closely while I'm up on the podium, smelling faintly of calamari, shirt off and jeans hanging off my butt, 'grabbing' laser beams and swinging to the beat. This is alcohol x 100000

Fucking hell.

~

6.40am. Dxnixl left an hour ago and the effect is waning. I can't walk so I stumble into a blond boy with too much deodorant. Splitting headache. Some random offers me free drinks while we sit in one of the couches for hugs. Four cokes later and he wants me at his place? Bitch.

First tram at 7.34am. How the fuck do I know these things? Fumbling with my phone I manage a call to dxnixl. He's just hopped into bed, waiting for me to come home.

Piercings

When they say it hurts, well, they are partially correct – it is not that bad!

Further extending my 'week of firsts' I decide it's time to get piercings. I book myself for four piercings, 2 lobes and 2 nipples at Commercial Rd. How do you prepare for these things? Google is your friend.

And Youtube is not. Seven videos of people getting their nipples mutilated and I'm running for the door. Piercing artists HAVE to be masochists. Jabbing a bloke in their areolas then squeezing a bar through the hole is just cruel.

And a quick chat with a msn buddy/doctor is just asking for trouble. Keloids, he says. Scar tissue that will perk my nipple up (Is that necessarily a bad thing?). And a whole lecture about infections and swelling and the etc. Doctors can be so technical.

I spend another week toying with the idea before I decide it is best to skip the nipple piercings (for now) and just do the lobes (afterwards I hear myself say the word 'coward' a million times).

Inking followed by two sharp pricks and it's all over. Yada yada yada about the salt solution etc, I just wanted to get out of there, away from the sterile surrounds and the people in the waiting room.

Bling bling. Nana at the tram stop shows me her gold teeth. She must have noticed.

Nice.

Facebook

Finally, after 2yrs of denial, I've logged onto Facebook.

Damnit, I'm addicted.

Move

4 hours and 3 flights of stairs later and it's all over. New apartment needs painting as owner left it in shades of pink-yellow-purple-green, not necessarily in that order.

Partner has been busy with work so I've taken it upon myself to single-handedly manage the clean-ups, the mess, the packing-unpacking and buying new stuff. Bunnings and Highpoint have been my friends for the past 2wks; I have no real friends?

No time for relationships - I'm too busy sanding walls and vacuuming cupboards. I have become the ultimate housewife. Asvxn said so too.

Constant nagging to get the house in order so I can't see myself being employed. Dxnixl has taken the brunt of relocation costs yet I struggle to deal with the figures. Then again, I have no job. It's a vicious cycle.

In fact the past three weeks have been rough. I've become a bitter old tart, blaming myself for mistakes. I like having everything in order but reality bites.

To distract myself I buy more plants. Whatever happened to 'consolidation'. Frangipani bought off eBay arrived in the mail today, amazing how they survive 4 days of darkness (in a parcel). At least some things are less complacent.

Heat

This house is gorgeous. Meticulously designed to counter Melbournian weather extremes. On bitter winter days it would stay warm and on scorching summer days it would stay cool.

Even today at 41 degrees and 9% humidity I don't feel the heat. People walking past the window look desperate for a cool change.

But I like the heat, and must resist all attempts to 'air' the house and rid it of coolness. Dxnixl will be displeased if I did - he doesn't like the heat at all. I wonder how he will cope with North-East full length windows in our new place (air conditioning maybe?).

I should go out soon and check on the plants; they must be wilting. Pusscat is happily trotting around the house; at least he knows how to enjoy a hot day.