Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Blast from the Past (sequel to “The Wrong M”)
As we now know, the life of P is one hell of an uphill struggle.
Erotic action of the legal or illegal variety has come to a complete halt.
This is the story of P’s life and should aptly be titled “The rise and decline of P’s life”.
*****
Social life in Sad Town is virtually non-existent. Well, perhaps if we count Teddy and Gof (whom I am slowly losing to a girlfriend). Teddy has been our eating buddy. Oh and the occasional Soci and girlfriend.
Daisy and I have too fallen out due to her bimbotic brain and callous, foul mouth. So I am completely girlfiend-less, which is a bugger. Well, not that I really care. My real friends are back home anyway.
DL and I are constant companions to each other, completely cut out from a normalised social life (just short of Teddy) and we reckon when the money starts rolling into our business, our joint lives would probably improve and become more “normal”. Well, by “normal” we meant we would have more of each other. Our sex life would probably be re-invigorated, we will buy the house and his nice sporty car, we will be fine dining again, hanging out at the day spa and taking small weekend trips. Everything can then fall into place.
You see, I am beginning to suspect that we are closet misanthropes and self-indulgent individuals. We definitely know how to enjoy life and we know that the more we get wealthier, there would be less time for others but ourselves. We don’t run out of ideas on what we can do SO LONG as we have cash in our wallets. We rarely get bored.
Our lives in Sad Town are a nice little niche, shaped like a capsule as we organise our lives around just the two of us and the Fluffball. Friends (perhaps the lack of and being bothered) have little influence over our thoughts and time. There are not many people we care to socialise or hang out with in Sad Town since they are mainly fair-weathered friends so life is pretty much simplified for a good part of the year unless I make my social rounds back home and around in Asia. Excessive drinking, partying and socialising makes up for my lack of here in Sad Town. I am that special girl back in town once more and once my month is up, it’s back to real world – my insulated sad, Sad Town.
It’s not too bad actually. I quite enjoy time out and then back to my neat, routine life. Makes it easy for me to monitor how my life is tracking along.
******
I rarely get any phone calls unless it is of a business nature, or worst still, the automatic reminder from the bank that my credit card once again busted its limit. So are text messages.
So one day, I suddenly received an sms from an unfamiliar number.
It was the Man.
He mentioned about being in Sad Town on his way to the coast and would very much love a catch up.
To spare you readers all the to-ing and fro-ing of the smses (probably no more than three since being a reformed polygamist and a recluse has made me a rather terse person), we set a time and venue and agreed to meet up. On my part, there is a big curiosity on what exactly did he want from me since the last fiasco sms accidentally sent to him a year ago (his sudden and last attempt to be in touch) should have ward him off a bitch like me. My only thought a year ago was that he was hoping to see if I could extend my contacts to help him score a job whilst he was back in Sydney. I even alluded that I was no longer a headhunter then. But no, he seemed so keen to meet up, nonetheless.
I mean, the Man was just someone (well, sort of a friend for a while who was attracted to yours truly on the day we met on a boat party) whom I had spent a random night with some four years ago.
Then a week after, he had his bucks’ night. Three weeks later, he was back home in India for his big day. I was told by him that it was going to be a big shebang with elephants and the works.
In case you are wondering, nope it wasn’t an arranged marriage. It was more like a whirlwind romance on his holiday back home in New Delhi on that fateful month of October in 2005; where before the next trip home in February 2006 became his wedding day. The wife was his sister’s friend and a girl he was very much infatuated with when he was a boy of eighteen. He felt that she was way out of his league then. But of course, times changed. The Man was now a well travelled young professional within the financial industry living in the hip and affluent lower north side Sydney suburb of Mosman and who had acquired his new found status as an Australian citizen. On a dinner date with the said girl who has become his wife, they danced on the dance floor and with all the joyous music in the background, the light-heartedness of alcohol running through his veins, the air pervading of Bollywood romance, the Man went down on one tipsy knee and proposed to her there and then.
The day before that fateful October trip back to India, the Man finally got to hang out with me one on one (after many rainchecks and reschedules on my end) and it was that day, he realised I had a boyfriend. When we parted, he held my hand and looked at me in a strange way and wished me happiness.
So that was history.
I am sure we have both came a long way in our separate lives.
Never a need to cross paths again.
Not now or ever.
The dirty was done. Dirty linens should be washed and put away. Or even better,destroyed.
It appeared though, the Man was hoping to resurrect that old memory, like his persona and feel good thoughts have been encapsulated in that February summer of 2006.
As we now know, the life of P is one hell of an uphill struggle.
Erotic action of the legal or illegal variety has come to a complete halt.
This is the story of P’s life and should aptly be titled “The rise and decline of P’s life”.
*****
Social life in Sad Town is virtually non-existent. Well, perhaps if we count Teddy and Gof (whom I am slowly losing to a girlfriend). Teddy has been our eating buddy. Oh and the occasional Soci and girlfriend.
Daisy and I have too fallen out due to her bimbotic brain and callous, foul mouth. So I am completely girlfiend-less, which is a bugger. Well, not that I really care. My real friends are back home anyway.
DL and I are constant companions to each other, completely cut out from a normalised social life (just short of Teddy) and we reckon when the money starts rolling into our business, our joint lives would probably improve and become more “normal”. Well, by “normal” we meant we would have more of each other. Our sex life would probably be re-invigorated, we will buy the house and his nice sporty car, we will be fine dining again, hanging out at the day spa and taking small weekend trips. Everything can then fall into place.
You see, I am beginning to suspect that we are closet misanthropes and self-indulgent individuals. We definitely know how to enjoy life and we know that the more we get wealthier, there would be less time for others but ourselves. We don’t run out of ideas on what we can do SO LONG as we have cash in our wallets. We rarely get bored.
Our lives in Sad Town are a nice little niche, shaped like a capsule as we organise our lives around just the two of us and the Fluffball. Friends (perhaps the lack of and being bothered) have little influence over our thoughts and time. There are not many people we care to socialise or hang out with in Sad Town since they are mainly fair-weathered friends so life is pretty much simplified for a good part of the year unless I make my social rounds back home and around in Asia. Excessive drinking, partying and socialising makes up for my lack of here in Sad Town. I am that special girl back in town once more and once my month is up, it’s back to real world – my insulated sad, Sad Town.
It’s not too bad actually. I quite enjoy time out and then back to my neat, routine life. Makes it easy for me to monitor how my life is tracking along.
******
I rarely get any phone calls unless it is of a business nature, or worst still, the automatic reminder from the bank that my credit card once again busted its limit. So are text messages.
So one day, I suddenly received an sms from an unfamiliar number.
It was the Man.
He mentioned about being in Sad Town on his way to the coast and would very much love a catch up.
To spare you readers all the to-ing and fro-ing of the smses (probably no more than three since being a reformed polygamist and a recluse has made me a rather terse person), we set a time and venue and agreed to meet up. On my part, there is a big curiosity on what exactly did he want from me since the last fiasco sms accidentally sent to him a year ago (his sudden and last attempt to be in touch) should have ward him off a bitch like me. My only thought a year ago was that he was hoping to see if I could extend my contacts to help him score a job whilst he was back in Sydney. I even alluded that I was no longer a headhunter then. But no, he seemed so keen to meet up, nonetheless.
I mean, the Man was just someone (well, sort of a friend for a while who was attracted to yours truly on the day we met on a boat party) whom I had spent a random night with some four years ago.
Then a week after, he had his bucks’ night. Three weeks later, he was back home in India for his big day. I was told by him that it was going to be a big shebang with elephants and the works.
In case you are wondering, nope it wasn’t an arranged marriage. It was more like a whirlwind romance on his holiday back home in New Delhi on that fateful month of October in 2005; where before the next trip home in February 2006 became his wedding day. The wife was his sister’s friend and a girl he was very much infatuated with when he was a boy of eighteen. He felt that she was way out of his league then. But of course, times changed. The Man was now a well travelled young professional within the financial industry living in the hip and affluent lower north side Sydney suburb of Mosman and who had acquired his new found status as an Australian citizen. On a dinner date with the said girl who has become his wife, they danced on the dance floor and with all the joyous music in the background, the light-heartedness of alcohol running through his veins, the air pervading of Bollywood romance, the Man went down on one tipsy knee and proposed to her there and then.
The day before that fateful October trip back to India, the Man finally got to hang out with me one on one (after many rainchecks and reschedules on my end) and it was that day, he realised I had a boyfriend. When we parted, he held my hand and looked at me in a strange way and wished me happiness.
So that was history.
I am sure we have both came a long way in our separate lives.
Never a need to cross paths again.
Not now or ever.
The dirty was done. Dirty linens should be washed and put away. Or even better,destroyed.
It appeared though, the Man was hoping to resurrect that old memory, like his persona and feel good thoughts have been encapsulated in that February summer of 2006.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Lately...
I keep getting dreams of ex-lovers and flings...
In case you are wondering, I haven't or have no wish to pull out old skeletons from the closets or rattle any cages. Emotionally, mentally and physically speaking. I haven't been reminiscing or thinking of anyone.
But I kept getting random dreams- a re-surface of my sub-conscious. Those feelings in some form of hurt, shame, guilt, fear and disappointment I might have experienced with those various individuals.
2 weeks ago, I had a couple of dreams on consecutive dreams on the Koran. Then came The Man (yes, I still have a story to tell about our meeting), followed by M and just last night, Nano.
The Koran and Nano dreams stirred me with the most poignant and surreal emotions. In one of the dreams, the Koran suddenly pull open the shower curtain whilst I was showering exposing my naked body which I was quick to cover my breasts. He meant to mock but a hurt expression was written on his face. Whilst in the other dream with Nano, it felt like a sequel to our real life encounter where we parted at a train station in Sydney many moons ago. Three years to be exact. Here in the dream, there was another girl from Manila and there was me. He chose the other girl. He just wasn't in love enough with me.
Last night's dream with Nano opened up a can of worms in the form of memories. I remember my precarious emotional and mental state. I don't think I would ever fall back to be that emotional train wreck that I was. I have moved on but still my past continues to haunt me and stir my thoughts as I read my old entry.
I keep getting dreams of ex-lovers and flings...
In case you are wondering, I haven't or have no wish to pull out old skeletons from the closets or rattle any cages. Emotionally, mentally and physically speaking. I haven't been reminiscing or thinking of anyone.
But I kept getting random dreams- a re-surface of my sub-conscious. Those feelings in some form of hurt, shame, guilt, fear and disappointment I might have experienced with those various individuals.
2 weeks ago, I had a couple of dreams on consecutive dreams on the Koran. Then came The Man (yes, I still have a story to tell about our meeting), followed by M and just last night, Nano.
The Koran and Nano dreams stirred me with the most poignant and surreal emotions. In one of the dreams, the Koran suddenly pull open the shower curtain whilst I was showering exposing my naked body which I was quick to cover my breasts. He meant to mock but a hurt expression was written on his face. Whilst in the other dream with Nano, it felt like a sequel to our real life encounter where we parted at a train station in Sydney many moons ago. Three years to be exact. Here in the dream, there was another girl from Manila and there was me. He chose the other girl. He just wasn't in love enough with me.
Last night's dream with Nano opened up a can of worms in the form of memories. I remember my precarious emotional and mental state. I don't think I would ever fall back to be that emotional train wreck that I was. I have moved on but still my past continues to haunt me and stir my thoughts as I read my old entry.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tales of the Grown Up
As a young child, I find it a challenge to multi-task or focus on too many things at hand.
I was a one-boy-I-adore-at-a-time, do-one-thing-at-a-time type of girl. I could only read one book at anytime so as not to mess up my thoughts, feelings and sequence of any one story. I would also never flip to the back of the book to know the ending in advance. You see, I loved to keep myself in suspense because once I knew the ending, I would never read the book again. I would defnitely not be reading the same book a second time.
As I get older, I see a metamorphosis in my mind and attitude in life. I realised I could fall in love with a few at a time, read a few different books and genre at a time, multi-task, fond of finding the ending to a book and finish reading it regardless. I definitely find myself becoming a voracious yet selective reader, sometimes re-visiting and re-reading a particular book at different junctures in my life either to draw different perspectives and reading experience or just to savour the beautiful arrangements of prose by the crafty author.
Funny how I experienced the world so differently as a child and as a grown up. That willful ignorance of my childhood to perceive life in two dimensions are bygone days of lost innocence. Now as a grown up, my instincts warn me to be more discerning, more careful. Always appear the ever charming Miss P in social company but don't fall for your own charms...
As a young child, I find it a challenge to multi-task or focus on too many things at hand.
I was a one-boy-I-adore-at-a-time, do-one-thing-at-a-time type of girl. I could only read one book at anytime so as not to mess up my thoughts, feelings and sequence of any one story. I would also never flip to the back of the book to know the ending in advance. You see, I loved to keep myself in suspense because once I knew the ending, I would never read the book again. I would defnitely not be reading the same book a second time.
As I get older, I see a metamorphosis in my mind and attitude in life. I realised I could fall in love with a few at a time, read a few different books and genre at a time, multi-task, fond of finding the ending to a book and finish reading it regardless. I definitely find myself becoming a voracious yet selective reader, sometimes re-visiting and re-reading a particular book at different junctures in my life either to draw different perspectives and reading experience or just to savour the beautiful arrangements of prose by the crafty author.
Funny how I experienced the world so differently as a child and as a grown up. That willful ignorance of my childhood to perceive life in two dimensions are bygone days of lost innocence. Now as a grown up, my instincts warn me to be more discerning, more careful. Always appear the ever charming Miss P in social company but don't fall for your own charms...
You know your Heart never lies...
when you feel that quick pulsate of your heart, that sweet lump in your throat as you swallow your saliva the upmteeth time as you try to contain that adrenalin rush that keeps your excitment running sky high...
You feel like you have just chanced upon the best kept secret of the world and that you need to share to someone QUICKLY except you don't know who because no one would ever share your elation except yourself.
You have a Eureka moment! Your thoughts racing a zillion miles a second!
You feel the slight nervousness of your compulsion as you attempted to draw out your nearly maxed out credit cards from the wallet and do a quick swipe, cash in on your euphoria and conquer your love there and then! Except you reach for your pocket and your wallet is nowhere to be found. You haven't got your handbag with you and haven't need to carry it for the longest while. You just remembered you haven't got money or credit...
Yes, that is me.
Fashion books have a way of capturing my imagination and excitment. So have fabrics and vintage fashion.
These days, I avoid looking at things too carefully as I wander through the malls. You see, I have a great imagination and draw inspiration to design a fashion piece faster (or a million times faster!) than I close a sale.
Ironically, they have always been a motivation to my desire to make shitloads of money. Well, simply because I could never afford to design and put together my fashion collection without a good amount of capital.
So today, DL and I had a day off (for the first time in yonks plus on a weekday which is a luxury] and were in a great mood. Our compliance meeting in the morning turned out great so we temporarily suspended our anxiety for our business and the day turned into a positive day.
We went to the mall. As usual, DL headed straight to Borders to check out car magazines and cookbooks. My first stop was to Spotlight. I have a habit of heading straight for the fabric section as I trawled through bales and bales of fabric, my hand running softly past them to feel their texture, followed by lace and trimmings. DL had asked me to take his wallet with me just in case I might chance upon something (which is very often) that I want to buy. I made the wiser decision of declining and promised him that I am just looking. Thankfully, nothing caught my eye.
Next stop, I headed for Dymocks Book Store. As a creature of habit, I would dive straight into the aisle that reads "Fashion". I squatted by the aisle (since "my" books were found at the bottom shelf) like a squatter and had an eye and mind feast on a myriad of fashion books covering illustration, design, patterns, inspiration, photography and sustainability.
I felt my pulse racing, my heart drumming and a thousand thoughts, words and ideas flashing past my head. I found my playground once again. I actually felt alive.
There began my compulsion, except I haven't got any money on me. I couldn't get my fix.
*****
A couple of weeks ago, DL and I were wandering in another Factory Outlet designer mall. We had an early day and by afternoon, had some time to kill.
In our blue collar workwear, I wandered into my favourite shop-Alannah Hill. I couldn't take my eyes and hands off the softness of rabbit fur handbags,racks of hand beaded dresses and shrugs, silk blouses, angora knits and bejewelled belts.As you know, I am a sucker for hand sewn embellishments (as often found in my own designs), natural and luxe fabris and real fur (which puts me in a dilemma with my humanitarian aspirations and Buddhist beliefs. Vintage, yes wearing vintage real fur is my current solution until I can find a better one!).Again, I felt that lump in my throat, quickened heartbeat and the need to conquer the world (and the entire shop there and then).
Naturally, no one served a dag like me. I wasn't in a mood to try anything on either-no money, feeling fat and daggy and no occasion to wear. So I was able to part exercise some self control thanks to my NOT dressing for the right occasion and hence NOT feeling like I should conquer the world in such a state.
Truth is even with these bargain past season collection, assuming all my desired items fit me to a tee and I must absolutely have each and everyone of them (which I will not compromise), I would probably still need to bomb at least two grand in that shop. Two grand, at the moment is something I haven't got.
I left the store still continue feeling the stirrings of excitement and strangely, I haven't quite felt like this about clothes for as long as I could remember. For more than a week, that feeling didn't leave me (I still feel its stirrings now)or wean off. I found a re-newed passion and motivation once more- I will close that sale, make some money, treat myself to a few items, fly home for my best friend's wedding and be back on the social scene wearing fabulous clothes as I have always been. I belong there.
For a long time with the problems in our lives, I have stopped dreaming, stopped having passion (in all aspects) and stopped thinking.
Time to get back in action.
It's a nice feeling, to feel excitement and anticipation that I am currently experiencing. That feeling so precariously balanced with caution for over optimism to remind me that the supposedly no brainer sale that I should have closed last week could (and seems) most likely to go under the table yet again. Another reminder that many things are not beyond my control.
Anyways, enough of sinking to dark, cloudy thoughts!
I want to hold on to this exciting feeling for the moment.
Time to head back to the drawing room and sketch. Ciao!:)
when you feel that quick pulsate of your heart, that sweet lump in your throat as you swallow your saliva the upmteeth time as you try to contain that adrenalin rush that keeps your excitment running sky high...
You feel like you have just chanced upon the best kept secret of the world and that you need to share to someone QUICKLY except you don't know who because no one would ever share your elation except yourself.
You have a Eureka moment! Your thoughts racing a zillion miles a second!
You feel the slight nervousness of your compulsion as you attempted to draw out your nearly maxed out credit cards from the wallet and do a quick swipe, cash in on your euphoria and conquer your love there and then! Except you reach for your pocket and your wallet is nowhere to be found. You haven't got your handbag with you and haven't need to carry it for the longest while. You just remembered you haven't got money or credit...
Yes, that is me.
Fashion books have a way of capturing my imagination and excitment. So have fabrics and vintage fashion.
These days, I avoid looking at things too carefully as I wander through the malls. You see, I have a great imagination and draw inspiration to design a fashion piece faster (or a million times faster!) than I close a sale.
Ironically, they have always been a motivation to my desire to make shitloads of money. Well, simply because I could never afford to design and put together my fashion collection without a good amount of capital.
So today, DL and I had a day off (for the first time in yonks plus on a weekday which is a luxury] and were in a great mood. Our compliance meeting in the morning turned out great so we temporarily suspended our anxiety for our business and the day turned into a positive day.
We went to the mall. As usual, DL headed straight to Borders to check out car magazines and cookbooks. My first stop was to Spotlight. I have a habit of heading straight for the fabric section as I trawled through bales and bales of fabric, my hand running softly past them to feel their texture, followed by lace and trimmings. DL had asked me to take his wallet with me just in case I might chance upon something (which is very often) that I want to buy. I made the wiser decision of declining and promised him that I am just looking. Thankfully, nothing caught my eye.
Next stop, I headed for Dymocks Book Store. As a creature of habit, I would dive straight into the aisle that reads "Fashion". I squatted by the aisle (since "my" books were found at the bottom shelf) like a squatter and had an eye and mind feast on a myriad of fashion books covering illustration, design, patterns, inspiration, photography and sustainability.
I felt my pulse racing, my heart drumming and a thousand thoughts, words and ideas flashing past my head. I found my playground once again. I actually felt alive.
There began my compulsion, except I haven't got any money on me. I couldn't get my fix.
*****
A couple of weeks ago, DL and I were wandering in another Factory Outlet designer mall. We had an early day and by afternoon, had some time to kill.
In our blue collar workwear, I wandered into my favourite shop-Alannah Hill. I couldn't take my eyes and hands off the softness of rabbit fur handbags,racks of hand beaded dresses and shrugs, silk blouses, angora knits and bejewelled belts.As you know, I am a sucker for hand sewn embellishments (as often found in my own designs), natural and luxe fabris and real fur (which puts me in a dilemma with my humanitarian aspirations and Buddhist beliefs. Vintage, yes wearing vintage real fur is my current solution until I can find a better one!).Again, I felt that lump in my throat, quickened heartbeat and the need to conquer the world (and the entire shop there and then).
Naturally, no one served a dag like me. I wasn't in a mood to try anything on either-no money, feeling fat and daggy and no occasion to wear. So I was able to part exercise some self control thanks to my NOT dressing for the right occasion and hence NOT feeling like I should conquer the world in such a state.
Truth is even with these bargain past season collection, assuming all my desired items fit me to a tee and I must absolutely have each and everyone of them (which I will not compromise), I would probably still need to bomb at least two grand in that shop. Two grand, at the moment is something I haven't got.
I left the store still continue feeling the stirrings of excitement and strangely, I haven't quite felt like this about clothes for as long as I could remember. For more than a week, that feeling didn't leave me (I still feel its stirrings now)or wean off. I found a re-newed passion and motivation once more- I will close that sale, make some money, treat myself to a few items, fly home for my best friend's wedding and be back on the social scene wearing fabulous clothes as I have always been. I belong there.
For a long time with the problems in our lives, I have stopped dreaming, stopped having passion (in all aspects) and stopped thinking.
Time to get back in action.
It's a nice feeling, to feel excitement and anticipation that I am currently experiencing. That feeling so precariously balanced with caution for over optimism to remind me that the supposedly no brainer sale that I should have closed last week could (and seems) most likely to go under the table yet again. Another reminder that many things are not beyond my control.
Anyways, enough of sinking to dark, cloudy thoughts!
I want to hold on to this exciting feeling for the moment.
Time to head back to the drawing room and sketch. Ciao!:)
Friday, July 09, 2010
Why Flasher? Why?
There has been a dearth of good erotic or sexcapade blogs to read in the past year or so.
By good, I mean the style of writing that cleverly translate those physical experiences to coherant prose.
Last night, I met the new acquaintance of a fellow blogger whose style of writing interest my following.
May I dare say, it is rare as hens' teeth these days.
Through the links on his blog site, I meandered through other erotic blogs that seem to hold little of my interest.
Why is that, you might ask.
For every three clicks I made to satiate my curiosity reading about real life bedroom action and gravitas of the common human population, my eyes stubbled upon booby mine traps of pornography. Bam! I find myself being visually assaulted by a pair of tits or a pussy or some form of body parts staring back at me on my computer screen.
I cringed each time and instinctively, I clicked backwards to obliterate the crude images that has just been dropped on me.
All pictures and few words written in broken sentences or worst still, broken English.
What happen to good, old prose?
Give me either the crude, graphic descriptions or the poetic arrangement of words. I happen to fall into that category of readership. I am looking for words that can do poetic justice to the actions of our baser instincts. Spare me the graphic images of the often not-too-appealing body parts that shall I dare say, can appear quite repulsive on my screen. The images continue to haunt me like a bad dream, like I have just been subjected to a flasher.
Oi, cover up! PLEASE cover up! Unless you are some super model or you have photoshop the images to give it an even skin tone, please just cover up!
You see, my critical eye hate the imperfections of the physical body. Best to leave something to the imagination.
I fear for yet another "disappointing" entrance into yet another dark electronic alleyway with every click of the mouse when a particular title tickles my fancy.
My new blogger acquaintaince reckon that often the psychology of these people doing what they do (i.e. nude and sexual photographic display of themselves) are to gain attention for themselves (which I have no doubt about that). And he reckons these people are very often not really as attractive in real life (which is open to contention) and are fishing for adulation from the equally desperate or lecherous online voyeurs.
Whatever it is, I am hoping to find some good poetic prose in the likes of the now- defunct singleserves blogsite by Sash once again. It is like I could see, smell or taste her pussy already without having to actually have experience it. Now therein lies the craft of the talented wordsmith.
And for the tit spillers, pussy juicers and ding dong hairy dicks, please at least write complete sentences and come up with some punchy tag line to suggest why your picture tells a thousand words about you or your sexiness (which is often the underlying reason for those body flashes).
Make it titillating, not crude!
OK, that's my take and you might beg to differ.
So now people, in order to spare my eyes from falling victim to yet another unsuspecting pornographic blogsite that touts itself as some erotic blogger/ writer, any suggestions of good erotic prose by Singaporean bloggers that my mind can finally and really feast on?:D
There has been a dearth of good erotic or sexcapade blogs to read in the past year or so.
By good, I mean the style of writing that cleverly translate those physical experiences to coherant prose.
Last night, I met the new acquaintance of a fellow blogger whose style of writing interest my following.
May I dare say, it is rare as hens' teeth these days.
Through the links on his blog site, I meandered through other erotic blogs that seem to hold little of my interest.
Why is that, you might ask.
For every three clicks I made to satiate my curiosity reading about real life bedroom action and gravitas of the common human population, my eyes stubbled upon booby mine traps of pornography. Bam! I find myself being visually assaulted by a pair of tits or a pussy or some form of body parts staring back at me on my computer screen.
I cringed each time and instinctively, I clicked backwards to obliterate the crude images that has just been dropped on me.
All pictures and few words written in broken sentences or worst still, broken English.
What happen to good, old prose?
Give me either the crude, graphic descriptions or the poetic arrangement of words. I happen to fall into that category of readership. I am looking for words that can do poetic justice to the actions of our baser instincts. Spare me the graphic images of the often not-too-appealing body parts that shall I dare say, can appear quite repulsive on my screen. The images continue to haunt me like a bad dream, like I have just been subjected to a flasher.
Oi, cover up! PLEASE cover up! Unless you are some super model or you have photoshop the images to give it an even skin tone, please just cover up!
You see, my critical eye hate the imperfections of the physical body. Best to leave something to the imagination.
I fear for yet another "disappointing" entrance into yet another dark electronic alleyway with every click of the mouse when a particular title tickles my fancy.
My new blogger acquaintaince reckon that often the psychology of these people doing what they do (i.e. nude and sexual photographic display of themselves) are to gain attention for themselves (which I have no doubt about that). And he reckons these people are very often not really as attractive in real life (which is open to contention) and are fishing for adulation from the equally desperate or lecherous online voyeurs.
Whatever it is, I am hoping to find some good poetic prose in the likes of the now- defunct singleserves blogsite by Sash once again. It is like I could see, smell or taste her pussy already without having to actually have experience it. Now therein lies the craft of the talented wordsmith.
And for the tit spillers, pussy juicers and ding dong hairy dicks, please at least write complete sentences and come up with some punchy tag line to suggest why your picture tells a thousand words about you or your sexiness (which is often the underlying reason for those body flashes).
Make it titillating, not crude!
OK, that's my take and you might beg to differ.
So now people, in order to spare my eyes from falling victim to yet another unsuspecting pornographic blogsite that touts itself as some erotic blogger/ writer, any suggestions of good erotic prose by Singaporean bloggers that my mind can finally and really feast on?:D
Thursday, July 08, 2010
The Swinging Bachelorette's Soul
I remembered being most in my element when I was single for that brief one year period in 2008.
Truth is, I enjoy being the swinging bachelorette.
The attention of various men of all shapes, colours, sizes and age.
That varied experience.
When in Paris, I used to use the word "collection" a lot since I was always sketching design collections. But Pato, my Chilean friend pointed out that I had a way of calling flings, love affairs and romantic encounters "my collection", like they were objects that I fancy collecting.
****
The Old Boy once said that I was so polygamous.
Funny,it should come from him.
The most polygamous of men.
We met under such context since we held the thieves of honour.
One of those very initial time we had our joint moments in the confines of a budget hotel, I recalled us laughing and talking about how one of his fucks rang him whilst his wife was in the car.
He paused and then looked at me in a considered way and said, "Funny how we can still hold a conversation like this after we have slept..."
We were in love then. I reckon for that brief summer I was back.
I had fun and meant for our affair to be laissez faire.
I had others and wasn't looking for exclusivity. Or rather, I purposely rejected the notion.
But I loved him best.
"What's in it for you, P? After all, he is married."
His cousin's young girlfriend asked.
"The certainty of no future." I answered.
I love the absoluteness of certain things. This was one of those things.
My pet phrase used to be "Can you handle it?"
*****
Some days, I wished our honey mooney affair could have lasted longer.
The sex was great, we had fun and I enjoyed his pamperings.
I didn't know I was capable of "betraying" him since I thought we were non-exclusive.
I have slept with his nemesis, Koran. I wasn't aware I couldn't sleep with anyone I liked.
After all, my status was "single".
I didn't know a polygamous person can be inclined to jealousy.
*****
Nano once said that he found me a non jealous girl, which is rare. All his girlfriends were and he once was too. Rightly so with the girls. After all, they would have snared themselves a gold mine (or rather two). Literally.
Surely, you'll settle down when you get married? he asked.
He was hopeful.
Maybe we could get married one day if things didn't work out with DL and you, he used to say.
That would have been awesome since we both love making money and reading books.
He had the chance when DL and I did break up but he appeared aloof and I didn't want to raise my expectations. Besides, I was cosying up to the Old Boy. I cancelled my flight to Manila.
Nano found out later and was became very quiet.
Afterwards, he was constantly on getting hooked to Chinese girls.
"Don't know what Chinese powers you have P but damn I am only attracted to Chinese girls now..."
Ironically, he once said he regretted not spending more time together with me when he met up with me in Sydney.
A year or so later, he was still reminiscing about our intimate moments and wished he had impregnanted me. "We would be married by now, wouldn't we?"
Funny, I thought it's a girl's tactic to make a man stay.
I quite fancy a cute Eurasian baby. Heh!
*****
The number of partners in crime have fast dwindled. As we know, my 2 best girlfriends are firmly attached, married and as one has put it, "She has just baked her muffin."
As for my male friends, most of them too are settled. Even they can't keep up with my partying and drinking. Harry, one of my best party mates and kiss and tell friend who once told me about man's seeding mentality is so gone and married. We used to have so much fun telling each other about our conquests and fun since he treated me as a male in female appearance. Coolios, Josie and a few other male friends said the same too. I have the advantage of a feminie look but the mind of an alpha male.
Dancer, whom I know since I was twelve is the only married guy friend who can't stop searching for love, intimacy and connection. After all, he has always been a dreamer and a love fool. Actually, the Old Boy have similar traits like him. A low pragmatic trait it seems for any aspiring cassanova.
Only DL can stand me, I was told.
*****
So I have been busted a couple of times by DL.
Disappointed, angry and resentful he has been.
He once warned me during one of those seemingly casual conversation with heavy undercurrents that one of the things he learnt in army was that whatever you do, don't get caught.
Each time, he took me back.
DL is one of those one woman man. He has a massive distaste for people who double or multiple time. He sees that as a sign of a person who doesn't know what they want.
I, on the other hand, have no fear of consequences.
As DL has always put it, I am "in my own world" and a individualist with no regard for others.
Besides, the discomfort experienced from any aftermath or consequences are impermanent, I tell myself.
Time will heal everything, obliterate histories and dim memories.
*****
Like any errant ship, one must finally dock at a harbour.
What I love most the familiar presence of his childlike ness.
When the world gets tough, I come home to a household of abundenance and love.
DL and Fluffball ever waiting with such warmness.
I love our childish jokes, our joint obsession with our daughter in the form of a fluffy rescued dog and how we intuitively read each other's minds in our daily lives.
At the end of the day, we have toughed it out and white-knuckle a tumultuous relationship that everyone thought will only head into doomsday.
We have both subjected each other to tests that most people could not have last within a year of the relationship.
Bitter sweet, love hate our relationship have always been.
We used to fuck like rabbits. Those days of magic as we know are long gone.
It's been almost ten years since DL's morals was first challenged when he met a vixen like me, left his girlfriend of six years. But still, he never left an errant girl like me.
I hope in time, we would re-kindle the old flame, do random road trips and shagged spontaneously like careless, sexed up school kids in the car by the roadside like we did many moons ago.
After all, I have the mindset of a swinging bachelorette.
All the honey of matrimony but none of the sting.
I must have my cake and eat it.
I remembered being most in my element when I was single for that brief one year period in 2008.
Truth is, I enjoy being the swinging bachelorette.
The attention of various men of all shapes, colours, sizes and age.
That varied experience.
When in Paris, I used to use the word "collection" a lot since I was always sketching design collections. But Pato, my Chilean friend pointed out that I had a way of calling flings, love affairs and romantic encounters "my collection", like they were objects that I fancy collecting.
****
The Old Boy once said that I was so polygamous.
Funny,it should come from him.
The most polygamous of men.
We met under such context since we held the thieves of honour.
One of those very initial time we had our joint moments in the confines of a budget hotel, I recalled us laughing and talking about how one of his fucks rang him whilst his wife was in the car.
He paused and then looked at me in a considered way and said, "Funny how we can still hold a conversation like this after we have slept..."
We were in love then. I reckon for that brief summer I was back.
I had fun and meant for our affair to be laissez faire.
I had others and wasn't looking for exclusivity. Or rather, I purposely rejected the notion.
But I loved him best.
"What's in it for you, P? After all, he is married."
His cousin's young girlfriend asked.
"The certainty of no future." I answered.
I love the absoluteness of certain things. This was one of those things.
My pet phrase used to be "Can you handle it?"
*****
Some days, I wished our honey mooney affair could have lasted longer.
The sex was great, we had fun and I enjoyed his pamperings.
I didn't know I was capable of "betraying" him since I thought we were non-exclusive.
I have slept with his nemesis, Koran. I wasn't aware I couldn't sleep with anyone I liked.
After all, my status was "single".
I didn't know a polygamous person can be inclined to jealousy.
*****
Nano once said that he found me a non jealous girl, which is rare. All his girlfriends were and he once was too. Rightly so with the girls. After all, they would have snared themselves a gold mine (or rather two). Literally.
Surely, you'll settle down when you get married? he asked.
He was hopeful.
Maybe we could get married one day if things didn't work out with DL and you, he used to say.
That would have been awesome since we both love making money and reading books.
He had the chance when DL and I did break up but he appeared aloof and I didn't want to raise my expectations. Besides, I was cosying up to the Old Boy. I cancelled my flight to Manila.
Nano found out later and was became very quiet.
Afterwards, he was constantly on getting hooked to Chinese girls.
"Don't know what Chinese powers you have P but damn I am only attracted to Chinese girls now..."
Ironically, he once said he regretted not spending more time together with me when he met up with me in Sydney.
A year or so later, he was still reminiscing about our intimate moments and wished he had impregnanted me. "We would be married by now, wouldn't we?"
Funny, I thought it's a girl's tactic to make a man stay.
I quite fancy a cute Eurasian baby. Heh!
*****
The number of partners in crime have fast dwindled. As we know, my 2 best girlfriends are firmly attached, married and as one has put it, "She has just baked her muffin."
As for my male friends, most of them too are settled. Even they can't keep up with my partying and drinking. Harry, one of my best party mates and kiss and tell friend who once told me about man's seeding mentality is so gone and married. We used to have so much fun telling each other about our conquests and fun since he treated me as a male in female appearance. Coolios, Josie and a few other male friends said the same too. I have the advantage of a feminie look but the mind of an alpha male.
Dancer, whom I know since I was twelve is the only married guy friend who can't stop searching for love, intimacy and connection. After all, he has always been a dreamer and a love fool. Actually, the Old Boy have similar traits like him. A low pragmatic trait it seems for any aspiring cassanova.
Only DL can stand me, I was told.
*****
So I have been busted a couple of times by DL.
Disappointed, angry and resentful he has been.
He once warned me during one of those seemingly casual conversation with heavy undercurrents that one of the things he learnt in army was that whatever you do, don't get caught.
Each time, he took me back.
DL is one of those one woman man. He has a massive distaste for people who double or multiple time. He sees that as a sign of a person who doesn't know what they want.
I, on the other hand, have no fear of consequences.
As DL has always put it, I am "in my own world" and a individualist with no regard for others.
Besides, the discomfort experienced from any aftermath or consequences are impermanent, I tell myself.
Time will heal everything, obliterate histories and dim memories.
*****
Like any errant ship, one must finally dock at a harbour.
What I love most the familiar presence of his childlike ness.
When the world gets tough, I come home to a household of abundenance and love.
DL and Fluffball ever waiting with such warmness.
I love our childish jokes, our joint obsession with our daughter in the form of a fluffy rescued dog and how we intuitively read each other's minds in our daily lives.
At the end of the day, we have toughed it out and white-knuckle a tumultuous relationship that everyone thought will only head into doomsday.
We have both subjected each other to tests that most people could not have last within a year of the relationship.
Bitter sweet, love hate our relationship have always been.
We used to fuck like rabbits. Those days of magic as we know are long gone.
It's been almost ten years since DL's morals was first challenged when he met a vixen like me, left his girlfriend of six years. But still, he never left an errant girl like me.
I hope in time, we would re-kindle the old flame, do random road trips and shagged spontaneously like careless, sexed up school kids in the car by the roadside like we did many moons ago.
After all, I have the mindset of a swinging bachelorette.
All the honey of matrimony but none of the sting.
I must have my cake and eat it.
What's new, p?
The days of weekly massage and spa sessions are so over.
Ironically given the nature of one of my back breaking businesses, I am truly in NEED of one.
As some of you avid readers note, the current life of P is one hell of a financial struggle.
Today, I spent my time wheeling and dealing with brokers and prospects to squeeze one deal across. It would be my very first deal if it goes through since I have started my business. I will know soon enough, hopefully by tomorrow. I was working on two sales but looks like there is no way to get the other across at this stage unless the dodgy wizards are happy to pull out more tricks from their sleeves.
In between doing menial tasks to survive, I spent most of my thoughts squeezing for more ideas to seal the deal. My last appointment this evening was spent coming up with yet more ideas and solutions to help people of the most unlikely kind get across the line. Then voila, a shimmer of brillance and we found some possibilities. Now I just need to keep these people in line and on track.
Between different appointments, I switched from power suits to blue collar maid wear.
Sorry, in case you think I am still into my role playing fun, this IS my current life. I am not wearing a sexy maid outfit if you are still wondering...;)
So I have been swimming against the tide for the longest I can remember.
But I always have, hadn't I? Those years of doing the mission impossible as a headhunter pulling a stunt here and doing a trick there in what my peers have said as ridiculous deadlines. Get in, get out swiftly, collect all the info and let the bigwigs do the kill.
I would have made a bloody good headhunter if I had returned to Singapore for good, given my mapping abilities as well as regaining my mojo and being back on the social scene.
I reckon that is where I had trained my perserverence. Survival of the fittest.
Funny, I should have died ages ago with my current business and again little miracles seemed to manifest at the last minute to save my day. Only but temporarily. Like someone up there is one hell of a sadist, meaning for to suffer a slow death. Or is it to test the toughness of my character?
I call them the little miracles of life. I know, I know. I almost sound like a Christian who preached about miracles... heh!
So DL and I were going about doing our menial tasks to make $400 for ourselves yesterday. Have you thought about how Someone Up There seems to be slowly helping us and answering our (or rather, my) prayers? I asked.
No, he said. Whatever we achieved, we did it ourselves because we were strong and we perservere. He was angry as usual and started becoming blasphemous but what sort of a fucked up God He/ She must be to put us through all this hardship. So we had our debate about religon and what not. I get highly amused when DL gets into a fit when we argued about religon and our current state in our lives.
In between debates of light-hearted and not so light-hearted topics whilst going about our menial work, we waited for 3pm. We had a forced scheduled teleconference that awaited us to discuss the fate of our business. We have debts up to our necks at this point and DL and I have agreed that if push comes to shove, we would kiss 2 of our businesses goodbye. We will tell the fuckers that that's fine, they can have our businesses back but we would not pay them a single cent more.
Life is like poker or a set of chess. Since there were a few factors and people at play which will determine the shift of our precarious situations, I figured if one tries to play bad cop on us, I was going to set the two up against each other. Either way, no party gets a cent back from us. If they threaten legal action (which they might imagine will scare the shits out of us since the impression given was that both DL and I have outlived the financial hospitality of our Daddy Os and there is no way we will get any funding), I will tell them to go for it and see them in court.
Fight or flight. We figured we will fight since there are only 2 choices in any confrontational situation.
Surprisingly, the teleconference agenda was straightforward or sounded like a gift from heaven. The news was delivered that the fuckers will bail us out this time with the new marketing campaign fees instead of pressing us to pay up.They have decided to cut us some slack. But again, I am not surprised.
The story back at headquarters is beginning to sound like the Romance of Three Kingdoms. Warfares and civil uprisings against the bigwigs. To quell tension and to boost morale, the second in hierarchy had to fork out the money for their underlings like us. Anymore objections is going to tip the precarious balance of power in the business and obviously the brand reputation. So I gladly accepted and resumed my "grateful" tone on the phone.
I happen to be very good at rolling my eyes and speaking and smiling at the same time over the phone :D
I have better things to concern myself with.
Fucking sell. Get the deals to be signed and sealed.
Start re-couping some of the $300,000 we have expended. Clear the credit card debts.
Get home by September and do my social rounds in Manila if I can afford both time and money.
Check out my dad's new investments. I have set my interest on his new piece of land somewhere in Southeast Asia planning to be developed into a spa resort.
Massages and spas are my thing.
My supposed failure in my current business has thwarted any confidence my folks had in me and I need to claw back in time to get a chance at working with my old man.
Lately, I have been thinking why I even got myself into this business. Not that I regret but in hindsight, I could have done better research or networking with the brokers and bank managers before I invested in it. After all, most of my sales will need to be funded by the banks as most Australians are poor savers.
Therein lies my problem and DL's since we never borrow on anything. We are the typical Chinese businesspeople. Things need to be paid in cold hard cash. My credit card debts from my marketing bills are enough to drive me nuts, let alone more. Bad debts, I call them. I reckon the only good debt in my opinion is buying property.
Go back to basics P, I hear that voice in my head once more.
Stick to what I always believed in. The 4 main businesses that one should dabble in any day and age, with or without technology. Land/ Property, Food, Funeral services and Gaming. It covers the full spectrum of life.
I have also suggested to DL we should perhaps put aside some capital to do some personal lending (or rather loan sharking) if we continue our current business in Sad Town since this has been one hell of a reason for the obstacles of our business that have led us to our current cash flow problems. Our business is a snowballing numbers game and need to generate sales fast lest we get caught up by all that marketing expenses. So I said to him to think about it because this might well be the way. Once the cherry is right for the picking and we have enough sales, we got to sell the business fast, just as my dad had advised me to give it three years.
Food is in the pipeline for next June. We have been approached by an old friend from university who is doing real well in his restaurant. We'll see. 15% share seems a bit too paltry for our big appetites, mainly since I am such a control freak when it comes to front of house operations and DL is a wonderful chef. Plus we don't plan to be THE system which in such arrangements, we will inevitably be. But we'll see if there is any chance to cough up more on our end or to come out and do our own.
Make some real money first, P or all plans remain as dreams!
*****
In other works, though the life of P has been one hell of a swim against the highest tight, the bedroom action has been jack.
Drought season, I am experiencing.
I reckon I haven't had sex for 6 months now.
I have stopped counting and stopped having any form of desire.
Life feels like one straight line for the longest time I could remember.
I had a flip through my old blog entries and realised that since the end of 2008, I have stopped writing action packed raunchy entries filled with erotic tales of my sexcapades with flings and lovers.
My entries have lost its eloquence, just like my character. Feels like a prig-heheheh...
Is this going to be the story of P's grown up life from hereon?
I feel like I have hung up my sails for good. Domestic bliss or not- the life of a dull monogamist.
(Oh I just remember I have that outstanding story about my meeting with The Man to be written. More in good time...;) )
The days of weekly massage and spa sessions are so over.
Ironically given the nature of one of my back breaking businesses, I am truly in NEED of one.
As some of you avid readers note, the current life of P is one hell of a financial struggle.
Today, I spent my time wheeling and dealing with brokers and prospects to squeeze one deal across. It would be my very first deal if it goes through since I have started my business. I will know soon enough, hopefully by tomorrow. I was working on two sales but looks like there is no way to get the other across at this stage unless the dodgy wizards are happy to pull out more tricks from their sleeves.
In between doing menial tasks to survive, I spent most of my thoughts squeezing for more ideas to seal the deal. My last appointment this evening was spent coming up with yet more ideas and solutions to help people of the most unlikely kind get across the line. Then voila, a shimmer of brillance and we found some possibilities. Now I just need to keep these people in line and on track.
Between different appointments, I switched from power suits to blue collar maid wear.
Sorry, in case you think I am still into my role playing fun, this IS my current life. I am not wearing a sexy maid outfit if you are still wondering...;)
So I have been swimming against the tide for the longest I can remember.
But I always have, hadn't I? Those years of doing the mission impossible as a headhunter pulling a stunt here and doing a trick there in what my peers have said as ridiculous deadlines. Get in, get out swiftly, collect all the info and let the bigwigs do the kill.
I would have made a bloody good headhunter if I had returned to Singapore for good, given my mapping abilities as well as regaining my mojo and being back on the social scene.
I reckon that is where I had trained my perserverence. Survival of the fittest.
Funny, I should have died ages ago with my current business and again little miracles seemed to manifest at the last minute to save my day. Only but temporarily. Like someone up there is one hell of a sadist, meaning for to suffer a slow death. Or is it to test the toughness of my character?
I call them the little miracles of life. I know, I know. I almost sound like a Christian who preached about miracles... heh!
So DL and I were going about doing our menial tasks to make $400 for ourselves yesterday. Have you thought about how Someone Up There seems to be slowly helping us and answering our (or rather, my) prayers? I asked.
No, he said. Whatever we achieved, we did it ourselves because we were strong and we perservere. He was angry as usual and started becoming blasphemous but what sort of a fucked up God He/ She must be to put us through all this hardship. So we had our debate about religon and what not. I get highly amused when DL gets into a fit when we argued about religon and our current state in our lives.
In between debates of light-hearted and not so light-hearted topics whilst going about our menial work, we waited for 3pm. We had a forced scheduled teleconference that awaited us to discuss the fate of our business. We have debts up to our necks at this point and DL and I have agreed that if push comes to shove, we would kiss 2 of our businesses goodbye. We will tell the fuckers that that's fine, they can have our businesses back but we would not pay them a single cent more.
Life is like poker or a set of chess. Since there were a few factors and people at play which will determine the shift of our precarious situations, I figured if one tries to play bad cop on us, I was going to set the two up against each other. Either way, no party gets a cent back from us. If they threaten legal action (which they might imagine will scare the shits out of us since the impression given was that both DL and I have outlived the financial hospitality of our Daddy Os and there is no way we will get any funding), I will tell them to go for it and see them in court.
Fight or flight. We figured we will fight since there are only 2 choices in any confrontational situation.
Surprisingly, the teleconference agenda was straightforward or sounded like a gift from heaven. The news was delivered that the fuckers will bail us out this time with the new marketing campaign fees instead of pressing us to pay up.They have decided to cut us some slack. But again, I am not surprised.
The story back at headquarters is beginning to sound like the Romance of Three Kingdoms. Warfares and civil uprisings against the bigwigs. To quell tension and to boost morale, the second in hierarchy had to fork out the money for their underlings like us. Anymore objections is going to tip the precarious balance of power in the business and obviously the brand reputation. So I gladly accepted and resumed my "grateful" tone on the phone.
I happen to be very good at rolling my eyes and speaking and smiling at the same time over the phone :D
I have better things to concern myself with.
Fucking sell. Get the deals to be signed and sealed.
Start re-couping some of the $300,000 we have expended. Clear the credit card debts.
Get home by September and do my social rounds in Manila if I can afford both time and money.
Check out my dad's new investments. I have set my interest on his new piece of land somewhere in Southeast Asia planning to be developed into a spa resort.
Massages and spas are my thing.
My supposed failure in my current business has thwarted any confidence my folks had in me and I need to claw back in time to get a chance at working with my old man.
Lately, I have been thinking why I even got myself into this business. Not that I regret but in hindsight, I could have done better research or networking with the brokers and bank managers before I invested in it. After all, most of my sales will need to be funded by the banks as most Australians are poor savers.
Therein lies my problem and DL's since we never borrow on anything. We are the typical Chinese businesspeople. Things need to be paid in cold hard cash. My credit card debts from my marketing bills are enough to drive me nuts, let alone more. Bad debts, I call them. I reckon the only good debt in my opinion is buying property.
Go back to basics P, I hear that voice in my head once more.
Stick to what I always believed in. The 4 main businesses that one should dabble in any day and age, with or without technology. Land/ Property, Food, Funeral services and Gaming. It covers the full spectrum of life.
I have also suggested to DL we should perhaps put aside some capital to do some personal lending (or rather loan sharking) if we continue our current business in Sad Town since this has been one hell of a reason for the obstacles of our business that have led us to our current cash flow problems. Our business is a snowballing numbers game and need to generate sales fast lest we get caught up by all that marketing expenses. So I said to him to think about it because this might well be the way. Once the cherry is right for the picking and we have enough sales, we got to sell the business fast, just as my dad had advised me to give it three years.
Food is in the pipeline for next June. We have been approached by an old friend from university who is doing real well in his restaurant. We'll see. 15% share seems a bit too paltry for our big appetites, mainly since I am such a control freak when it comes to front of house operations and DL is a wonderful chef. Plus we don't plan to be THE system which in such arrangements, we will inevitably be. But we'll see if there is any chance to cough up more on our end or to come out and do our own.
Make some real money first, P or all plans remain as dreams!
*****
In other works, though the life of P has been one hell of a swim against the highest tight, the bedroom action has been jack.
Drought season, I am experiencing.
I reckon I haven't had sex for 6 months now.
I have stopped counting and stopped having any form of desire.
Life feels like one straight line for the longest time I could remember.
I had a flip through my old blog entries and realised that since the end of 2008, I have stopped writing action packed raunchy entries filled with erotic tales of my sexcapades with flings and lovers.
My entries have lost its eloquence, just like my character. Feels like a prig-heheheh...
Is this going to be the story of P's grown up life from hereon?
I feel like I have hung up my sails for good. Domestic bliss or not- the life of a dull monogamist.
(Oh I just remember I have that outstanding story about my meeting with The Man to be written. More in good time...;) )
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Missing Puzzles
The puzzles are slowly forming a picture of the family tree.
Have you wondered about your own family history?
I haven't.
I guess because I was told at a young age by my parents that they have never seen their grandparents. So my family lineage or history pretty much stopped at my grandparents.
Our family history seemed straightforward enough. Both sides of my grandparents came from various parts of Southern China and settled in Singapore at some point in their lives. They all came from humble beginnings, no exotic stories to tell. Plain vanilla, typical stories of the Chinese migrant into Singapore variety. My paternal grandfather is a shoemaker and my maternal grandfather is a barber. That much I know. I never converse much to my father's parents since I couldn't speak Cantonese when I was a child and my mum told us that our grandparents favour our male cousins who lived with them over us girls. Perhaps, Mum didn't want us to have much to do with my dad's side of the family. Not that I really care. On the other hand, I love my maternal grandparents, especially my grandmother. She was my very first love, I dare say. I didn't love anyone but her since she looked after me and lived with us until I was eight when she passed away. I was so very attached to her and she and only she could allay my gigantic insecurities as a child. Her presence was my only comfort. I knew she was going to die the day before she did. It was a strong premonition for a child. I cried on Friday and she was gone the next day.
*****
But as some of you are aware, I am fond of finding out about another person's history.
As usual, I was browsing and chanced upon someone's family history.
Some old black and white photos of the colonial era. It was in its heydays.
I got a piece into that someone's life, background and even further before that someone's existence, the history of the family of a forgotten era.
Curiouser, curiouser. Like an onion, I am peeling the skin layer by layer, a little closer to the core. I am getting a little piece of that someone, like there is much more to know, much more to discover. A step closer. Yet another tug at my heart.
The point is what's the point?
None, except to satiate my curiosity to gain an insight into the life of that someone I once shared a brief moment with. An insight into his life before me and really to stretch it much further, a time before he too existed.
I am a nostalgic and sentimental person. Black and white photos have a way of invoking my emotions.
But I am rarely in love, except with the notion of being in love.
However, I think I have been in love with this one.
Getting glimpses of images of those yesteryears touch my heart. I am heartened to have chanced upon it. I feel a little closer to this beloved stranger although I haven't known him for a long time. Water under the bridge.
Separate way, separate lives we have since lived. I have long come to terms. I don't know if I am expressing myself correctly- I think our situation is the is. There are no two ways to how our lives could have unfolded in any case- romantiscing has never been my forte.
Like a curious bystander, I am wont to linger and keep vigilant.
I like to know what he doesn't know, which is I am still there in thoughts and spirit.
My ego was prone to make a point and have the last say. The need to has long been surrendered. The truth from one's heart has a poignant way of silencing one's outward eloquence.
Like one who has become engaged to life from trauma, my persona is never quite the same again.
Heartfelt. I feel like I have just learnt a new word.
The puzzles are slowly forming a picture of the family tree.
Have you wondered about your own family history?
I haven't.
I guess because I was told at a young age by my parents that they have never seen their grandparents. So my family lineage or history pretty much stopped at my grandparents.
Our family history seemed straightforward enough. Both sides of my grandparents came from various parts of Southern China and settled in Singapore at some point in their lives. They all came from humble beginnings, no exotic stories to tell. Plain vanilla, typical stories of the Chinese migrant into Singapore variety. My paternal grandfather is a shoemaker and my maternal grandfather is a barber. That much I know. I never converse much to my father's parents since I couldn't speak Cantonese when I was a child and my mum told us that our grandparents favour our male cousins who lived with them over us girls. Perhaps, Mum didn't want us to have much to do with my dad's side of the family. Not that I really care. On the other hand, I love my maternal grandparents, especially my grandmother. She was my very first love, I dare say. I didn't love anyone but her since she looked after me and lived with us until I was eight when she passed away. I was so very attached to her and she and only she could allay my gigantic insecurities as a child. Her presence was my only comfort. I knew she was going to die the day before she did. It was a strong premonition for a child. I cried on Friday and she was gone the next day.
*****
But as some of you are aware, I am fond of finding out about another person's history.
As usual, I was browsing and chanced upon someone's family history.
Some old black and white photos of the colonial era. It was in its heydays.
I got a piece into that someone's life, background and even further before that someone's existence, the history of the family of a forgotten era.
Curiouser, curiouser. Like an onion, I am peeling the skin layer by layer, a little closer to the core. I am getting a little piece of that someone, like there is much more to know, much more to discover. A step closer. Yet another tug at my heart.
The point is what's the point?
None, except to satiate my curiosity to gain an insight into the life of that someone I once shared a brief moment with. An insight into his life before me and really to stretch it much further, a time before he too existed.
I am a nostalgic and sentimental person. Black and white photos have a way of invoking my emotions.
But I am rarely in love, except with the notion of being in love.
However, I think I have been in love with this one.
Getting glimpses of images of those yesteryears touch my heart. I am heartened to have chanced upon it. I feel a little closer to this beloved stranger although I haven't known him for a long time. Water under the bridge.
Separate way, separate lives we have since lived. I have long come to terms. I don't know if I am expressing myself correctly- I think our situation is the is. There are no two ways to how our lives could have unfolded in any case- romantiscing has never been my forte.
Like a curious bystander, I am wont to linger and keep vigilant.
I like to know what he doesn't know, which is I am still there in thoughts and spirit.
My ego was prone to make a point and have the last say. The need to has long been surrendered. The truth from one's heart has a poignant way of silencing one's outward eloquence.
Like one who has become engaged to life from trauma, my persona is never quite the same again.
Heartfelt. I feel like I have just learnt a new word.
