Sunday, December 26, 2010

A Love That Lies

Love is a powerful thing.

Love can save the world. Love can save lives. Love can save you from jumping off the edge.

But it can also push you off it.

Because without a little thing called respect, love is a brute force.

It can be blind and ruthless and take things down in its path with no regard for the feelings of others -- even, ironically, those of the ones it is trying to save in the first place.

And perhaps...

...this brute force isn't really called Love. Not the pure and undiluted, unadulterated version that we come into this world knowing and then almost immediately lose.

It's called -- what? Overprotectiveness, maybe. Overbearing; caring too much. An animal instinct to guard fiercely what one holds dear. Or just the dominance of the Ego: an overriding force that gets at what it aims to achieve, and damn the consequences. It may have the best intentions in mind. But it forgets. It forgets that one aim is not everything. It forgets that everyone else, too, has flaws and feelings. 

But the thing with that sort of blind charging fire, is that it ultimately destroys. 

And isn't that the antithesis of Love?

~


Thursday, December 23, 2010

You Drive Me Wild


A song by the Runaways that simply and perfectly describes the hot, talented man-flesh I am about to hit you with.

This one is alllll about the pictures.
Enjoy.


A hot caramel slice of decadence with golden fingers and a voice like fine scotch. This man needs no introduction.



Nikki Sexx Sixx, arguably the yummiest of the CrΓΌe boys. They don't make pinups like these anymore. (And why?)



Joe Fuckin' Perry of Aerosmith. Last I checked he was touching 60, but goddamn if he isn't one fine grandpa.



Mr Roberts shredded with Alice Cooper for some years, no doubt swimming in hunktosterone the whole time.



Love him or hate him, he was a fine piece of work back then. All hail Mr Rose, he of the temper and tiny shorts.



The ultimate cross between androgynous & manly. Sexiest dude to ever wear lipstick, Paul 'Starchild' Stanley.



Sebastian Bach. He's blonde, he's beautiful, he sang about Youth Gone Wild. Do I really need to say more?


~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Beauty is a gift. To cherish beauty, especially evanescent beauty, is humankind's prayer to the heavens -- that they may be graced with more of it.
Serpent 19:87


-

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Still

'I still love him.'

Those were the four plaintive words on my last tweet. The painful lovechild of a three-year attraction and the inability to let him go.

Ah the curse of this beautiful season, that amplifies both joy and melancholy.

Every endearment he throws casually on me, every smile, every playful jibe, I treat like fragile beautiful things. I am so afraid of letting my more-than-affection slip through. He is an unusually intuitive person; he might well sense it. Might well back away from me, so that I lose even that one thing I have from him: his friendship.

The tender festering flower inside me blooms for him still. Its velvet petals breathe tentatively, half-dead, yet half-awake, and wait mindless for his return.

But there is no return. It would not matter if we were neighbours; if we were roommates, even. I can never tell him.

I can never risk losing him.

I can never...


~ ~ ~

Love that loves alone can turn to hate. That is the damning flaw in the human need: for two halves to be a whole.
Serpent 25:12


Said woman take it slow, it'll work itself out fine; all we need is just a little patience.
G'nR 19:92



-

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Love & Hate: a christmas story


“For fuck’s sake pull over.”


“As you wish, princess.”


I hated it when he called me that. It used to be a fond nickname for my long silky hair, my sulking fits. Lately it had lost its fondness and gained a condescending hardness. A cruel edge he kept away from the public, and from the girls who loved him.


But not from me.


The Buick came to a rusty stop about a half mile from the Strip. I stuck my head out the window; damn sky was still shitting snow. When I turned around, he was sucking languidly on a candy cane. The dark pink lips, almost obscene in their lushness, pulled steadily on the pink streaks to drain them from the white. Push and pull, push and pull. Working the cane like a pro. I pulled away from the steady rhythmic sucking and glared at the bright lights ahead.


“We’re lost, you know that.”


“No we ain’t. We’re exactly where we planned to be. Bottle’s in the back.” Referring to the Stolichnaya, of course.


“I mean we’ve lost it. I dunno where we’re going anymore. We can walk into that club now, be all friendly, and you know you’d be wanting to piss on me inside…. Hey.” I pushed my face into his. “Hey. Hey, look at me. LOOK AT ME, motherfucker.”


He tilted his head slightly in my direction. Although his eyes could have been closed for all I know. They hid as usual behind their veil of dense, tightly wound curls, his way of hiding from the world. A trail of candy sugar glistened at the corner of his mouth.


“You really want me to go?”


He stared at me for the longest time in response. Turned off the engine. In the silence of the heavy, musty interior, my question sunk in like an anchor.


Just a month earlier, I had slapped him with the same silence. But then I hadn’t been there to savour it. No, I had just…left. Stormed out of the room as the music died behind me. It hit me then that I was a difficult bitch. I should have held out.


Should have let him be the one to walk.


He started to reach for a smoke as usual – then stopped. His shoulders sagged. He looked tired, defeated. The hundreds of fights in the past four years suddenly came crashing down. But still he didn’t say a word; didn’t move from his sunken position. A minute passed.


“Fine. I’ll go then.” I got out. It was a bitter night, and I had no idea how to get back, but hell. There was no going back. This was it, then. This was how it ended. Not in fire and brimstone, but in icy silence.

I was pulling my denim jacket tighter when I heard it.


“Princess. Wait.”


The sudden rawness in his voice hit me like a hot knife. Where was the hardness, where was the cruel teasing edge? There was a different shape to the words. A quiet desperation. I heard it pouring from the softness of his mouth, and everything changed.


A stiff breeze scraped my sharp cheekbones, making me shiver. With a fierce urgency he reached out and pulled me inside. Rubbed the life back into my fingers. His hands came up to warm my frozen face, to smooth the frost from my straight fine hair. His hands were all over.


“I love you,” I spat through gritted teeth.


“I know.”


Then he was pinning me down and stroking me, stroking the colour into my stiff candy cane, kissing me. Was the door closed? Would they see us? Would they care?


I didn’t. My hands reached down: I felt the leather wrapping his legs and his hips, a gift to me; and then the leather came off and his thighs pushed into mine. His tobacco breath was hot against the steel that pierced my left nipple. His lips breathed warmth into my being as I hardened with love for him.


“Merry Christmas, you bastard,” I whispered.


“Merry Christmas, Axl.”


-


Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Give Us Your Dreams...

...and we shall do nothing because we are broke. But hey, it's the season for wishing. So wish away.

Here's my own li'l list, a mix of the attainable and the fantastical. Scrolling out in no particular order....


Combat boots
I Fucking Love Boots. They go with almost everything; and I can never have enough of 'em. But being a fairly practical person budget-wise, I've had to settle for just four pairs. I'd like a fifth. And I chose combats because they're so damn sexy, kickass and practical. What other footwear can take you from traipsing the mall to adventuring in the jungle? (Not that I jungle-trek all that often, but still. it'd be nice to have the option...)


Kat von D's Sephora kit
I think Kat von D is one of the world's sexiest women HANDSdown, and I'd love to own anything with her name on it. But especially this lovely perfume kit under the very cool label Sephora. I'm in love with the fragrance description already. I LOVE CINNAMON & MUSK.

alternatively, she can just throw me any of her old junk and accessories that she doesn't want anymore. I'm that eager.

better yet - give me a tattoo. which brings me to...


A trip to LA Ink
There is a reason I'd love to fly to Los Angeles. Not to hobnob with the stars, but to get inked by Kat or one of her posse. awesome shittttt. now that's a gift that lasts!


Better skin
Chronic eczema is a fact of daily life for me, and it's not like I can't handle it. But I'd rather not. It makes me a little neurotic sometimes. And occasionally gets in the way of choosing an outfit. And the great thigh tattoo I'd otherwise so have.

But since no one save God can cure eczema (and since God is a concept I've long given up on), you can also send me a truckload of shea butter and tea tree oil.


A super-GPS
Because I am lousy with directions and it would be so great to just get somewhere without floundering like a lost dying fish. I say 'super' coz the standard GPS only has one route to get someplace, and most of the time takes you in circles when there's an easier shorter way. But there are those with more advanced programming...to compensate for my not-so-advanced brain....


A great leather jacket
by which I mean a fairly basic one but with little awesome details, like chunky zips. Been saving up for this, and if I finally get one sometime next year I'll let y'all know. In the meantime, do mention it to Santa if you meet him.


Sex with Slash
coz, yeah.

and it doesn't have to be full-on sex. Or sex at all. I'm more than happy with just about any type of skin contact. Like having him read to me with his lips pressed against my ear. More Than Happy. totally. hell, he could read me his grocery list. preferably one with some suggestively shaped fruits thrown in.

~
what..? No world peace? Look, I am not only selfish, but honestly so. And honesty is a virtue. So take that.

Bring out the Fa La Las, y'all!! Sing corny songs. Tell people you love them. Wear wacky glittery outfits. Give to the poor. Who knows, you could be among them someday.

-

Monday, December 13, 2010

flint and fire

His voice sets me off everytime. Rolling out word by word in that unhurried, deliberate fashion, tinged with the rasp of fine tobacco.

It so happened I was writing something vaguely sexy when that voice flowed off the airwaves (or, alright, podcast waves...bytes...whatever you call it) and sneaked into my bloodstream. It works much better with earphones. Makes each word more intimate like he's whispering it right against the tender flesh of your earlobe.

And now I'm madly incendiary. I feel like a match in a world of flint and fire.

Hmm. That sounds like a cool line for a song... or possibly a corny one.

~ ~ ~
To love is human. To lust is holy. For without lust, Paradise languished devoid of passion...so began the Age of Darkness and Superstition.
Serpent 10:17


-

Monday, November 22, 2010

Fall from grace

I am far too attached to my mechanical li'l monsters.

By that I mostly mean my cellphone. Upon possessing a phone, within a week it becomes an extension of my soul. Losing one is among my more traumatic life experiences. Which only goes to show what a sheltered city-slicker brat I am.

But it's OK. I have no trouble with admitting I'm pathetic. What I do have trouble with is dropping my cellphone on a wet toilet floor.

Sure, it's not a gross toilet or anything. But it IS a public domain. Y'know, a surface people tread on with their shoes. And it's wet, which makes it worse for reasons I don't care to explain - psychologically, wet is icky. (That's how the city slicker brain works; deal with it.)

And I've dropped on that surface something I have to press to my goddamn face occasionally. Although thanks gods I text more than I talk. But still...

Just dropping it is already bad enough. I don't take lightly things like damage to extensions of my soul. Even if it is a pretty crappy soul to begin with.

Ah well. Good thing my period was over a week ago. I'd never be able to handle this coolly on a hormone-infested brain. Heads would fucking roll. As it is, heads will merely turn at my loud, (mostly) unwarranted swearing.

~ ~ ~

Wrath is not a sin, but a natural impulse that needs rightful release*.
Serpent 5:10


*Preferably upon inanimate objects.

-

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Death, In Alphabetical Order

Who doesn't secretly love to see children perishing in various horrific and occasionally impossible ways? Ever wished your brat cousin would swallow some tacks? (Or felt tempted to slip some in his milk?) How about an obsessive-compulsive desire to list the random murders you see in the news in alphabetical order?

Well, now you can have all that - and in lovely illustrations too. After all, delicate stomachs like mine can't handle the actual gore of death in photographic glory. But it does enjoy the same thing depicted in finely crafted ink.

. . .
I'm just kidding. I don't feel the fancy to murder kids - except for a special few - and have certainly never slipped thumbtacks into someone's drink. (I only go as far as spiking the Christmas punch.) But whatever your tastes, The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey is a masterful piece of work.

Do read the whole thing if you have a few minutes. I've also included my favourite bits below.

In those skeletal sunken eyes is all the reason you will need to love this.



She actually covered quite a lot of ground there. At least it wasn't an easy surrender.



I don't know how the fuck you die from ennui. But the thought is faintly amusing.



If that dark frozen little figure does not give you awesome chills, you are dead inside.



Alone. Cornered. Robbed of all hope. A shitload of man-eating mice. And a load of shit in your pants.



By the way, may I recommend listening to Akira Yamaoka's Silent Hill soundtrack while you're reading the whole thing. Specifically, Claw Finger and Fear Of The Dark.

Enjoy.


~ ~ ~ ~
Fear the little children, for the most evil of men and women were children once too.
Serpent 13:13

Friday, October 29, 2010

Lately

i am scattered.

my head is everywhere and nowhere. my thoughts are neurons blown apart from their nucleus like so much dandelion fluff.

i need an anchor. i need a single thought or act to hold my day together. before i lose it altogether.

sometimes i frighten myself. although this is nothing new. i have always been a freak - to myself and to others. some people learn to love me for it (or despite it). some find it charming a few are just scared off. not that i need to care about those.

still, it would be nice to be somewhat normal for a day. (or subnormal. is that an acceptable state of mind?)

let me be grounded, even as i dream.

let my next recollection be more than a shattered memory.

let me stop stumbling.

Monday, October 25, 2010

It's Quiet Here.

Surrounded by high wooden shelves, the caramel-glow of soft yellow lights, it's almost too private here. I am used to an open bustling space where you can see everything and everyone; where the music from your small crappy speakers can carry across to the other end of the room.

The wall to my left is all too convenient for leaning against in an after-lunch time-out. Compared to my former office, I feel so cozily hidden as to be almost inconsequential. But I'll get used to it. Perhaps even love it. And if I want to do some socialising, I guess I can do so on the way to the pantry, which is quite a walk away.

But another reason it is so quiet is my ear infection.

Yeah, my right ear is Out Of Order right now. Half my world is mute until this dastardly swelling (which thankfully does not hurt unless I press on it) goes down.

Quiet is peaceful. Quiet is good. But too much of it can drive you mad.

Ah, what the hell; I was half-mad all the time.


Tuesday, October 19, 2010

An Apocalypse Theory of Love

you will never know the scenes in which i leaned over your desk and whispered lust into your ear. you will never see the words i erased from my machine as i left you one more time. 

but you could have

if the world existed for you and i.

* * *

IMAGINE
the end, in ashen-faced clarity
The world in dust at our feet
So we would be free to
Finally live it


The sunlight cuts neon gaps in the Venetian blinds. It is dark where he sits, though, and he is ever nestled in a thundercloud. I feel his heat. I watch his hands simmer in stillness.


Weary,
Secrets spill amidst the gunfire
We hide, closer than rules allow
We touch, united by the terror
Of being human


The whiteness of the walls deaden sensation, but not feeling. I warm my hands in coffee-steam. Soon, evening will settle into restless night. You walk past for the third time but it feels like the first.



Dust
Settles on the sunset
High up in a tower, we wait
Holding on for need of comfort
As the skies turn nuclear red


There is another dimension between the patchwork of incidental closeness and almost-coincidence. A love that lies in wait amidst the clacking of keyboards, waiting for the world to fall so that truth can finally be told.


Inevitable.
What triumph be your accidental kiss
What victory is this war-torn attraction?
Your hand in mine, at the edge
of the universe.


Monday, October 18, 2010

Think Dark Thoughts

All Hallows Eve draws close.

While poetic images of autumn leaves and and glowing jack-o-lanterns and witching-hour hijinks regale us, the reality is rather more mundane. Especially in a tropical city like mine where holidays based on spiritual unrest tend to lose their romanticism.

But it doesn't mean we can't have our bit of fun. Whether you're flipping through your DVD collection for a Best Of horror-thon or sipping Bloody Mary in a skintight Satan suit in some posh club, have a merry October 31st.

Think dark thoughts, my loves...think plenty of them. May a few of your tastiest ones come true.

~ ~ ~ ~

It is better to entertain crude acts than to commit them
Serpent 4:13


~

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

The World Needs Guts

Stand up for what you believe in. Learn to say yes. Learn to say no. Learn to be stupid. Learn to be brave. Make crazy your normal. Make normal an option (not a must).

Put some steel in your spine. Put some spine in your stance. Grow some balls (even if you're a woman). Walk with one foot in the clouds. Walk like you're dancing. Dance like no one's watching. Be eccentric. Be bold. Be brave. Live without apology.

Live honestly.

- - -

...it is better to be sincere than silent.
Serpent 6:67

Monday, October 4, 2010

The Serpent's Den

Pretty, pretty creatures. Jewel gleam and ruby-red, velvet green and leather-black. My slithery friends can be found at the National Museum in KL till Oct 11. If you are lucky, the King Cobra may rear its head for you. (Consider it an honour.) And delight in a haven crawling with these beauties...

A lovely corn snake waking from its nap


Venomous beauty in the viper pit


A languid ball python


Adorable amber cornsnake

Mangrove snake; how it gleams


Gorgeous, russet-hued motley cornsnake


Coral-hued serpent saying hello.


A basking red-tail ratsnake



Tuesday, September 28, 2010

A tribute to hotness

I've seen him repeatedly in Alice Cooper's Constrictor shows, yet never realised how awesome-shit this guy was. I'm not talking about his mad talent; when someone mentions metal's top guitarists, Kane Roberts is always somewhere in my list. I'm talking about those insanely chiselled features and impossibly perfect jaw, those squeezed-too-tight leather pants and rich head of curls.

He's almost too good to be true.


....holy fuuuUUUCCKKKK.

Yeah, yeah so that album cover was way back in '91. But I can bet you that any man with that immoveably awesome bone structure will still have manly handsomeness spilling out his ears 20 years down the road. Now hopefully he's kept the body...


THAT body.

Or, well, a more modestly proportioned but equally firm version.

To tell ya the truth, I've never gone for that uber buff thing; the bulging Hulk-men adorning Men's Fitness mags turn me off. I prefer my men reasonably toned than steroid-stuffed. (Not that I'm accusing Mr Roberts of 'roids or other potentially harmful substances.) But when I look at that face, and that gorgeous hair, and that even more gorgeous guitar that looks like it could shoot out real bullets....who gives a shit about an oversized bicep?

'I will squeeze you to death with my leather-clad sexiness.'

Granted, I was probably too busy watching Alice tear a baby's head off to pay attention to that amazing guitarist shredding the hell out of every song. I heard the riffs, but I should've seen the man behind it. Oh well. Never too late to appreciate a good thing. This man is not only a metal maestro; he is shameless eye candy. Leather-wrapped, steel-studded, flame-shootin' candy.


Now adorning my computer desktop!

Monday, September 27, 2010

"Fame is our felony"

Really. Who is this girl?


She sang two self-composed songs about love and rebellion in a talent show under the name Stefani Germanotta. One of the songs feature these awesome lyrics:

We are a generation twisted by a myth
Confused and ludicrous,
Holding onto love.

Consumed by all the pleasures in out midst.
A life with all the lips we've kissed
And losing all control.

We're gonna start a resistance
We want independence
We're gonna give the world some of this:

Electric Kiss
I'm gonna change the world with my lips.
One voice forever, well live together in
Peace, love, solitude and happiness
Electric Kiss.

Fame is our felony; we're so in love with it
Some superstars and masochists who don't know
Where to go.

But the poets and the fighters of our time
Put down their weapons and their rounds
And know what they must do.

They're gonna start a resistance
They want independence
They're gonna give the world some of this.


This is her.



The girl can sing. Let's not forget that. She has talent, brains, vision, and she can wear whatever the hell she wants. To all the assorted humourless pricks who violently disagree:

You're just jealous.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Electric

I love lightning bolts. Sure, I don't enjoy actually being on the receiving end of one, but it's something I can't stop doodling of late. So it was no surprise when I walked into a tattoo studio yesterday and asked for one on the chest.

I never even noticed till later that the bolt was pointed straight at my heart. In a way, it's fitting.

Lightning, to me, is many things. Energy; brilliance; passion; a strike to the gut; a flash of fever in the veins. (And not forgetting rock 'n fn' roll.) It's a kick of adrenaline. It's what moves people all around the world.

It's what moves me.

I'm hungry, boys and girls. Literally. (I need my dinner now.) Be back soon...

Holy Zeus! Details here.


Thursday, September 23, 2010

Watch This.

To all the earphone-wearing misfits. To the hard-ass boys and bad-ass babes. To all the rock 'n roll maniacs, all the neon fishnet lovers, all the crazy motherfuckers.

This one's for you.


The boys are back in full eye-bleeding colour. And it's time for the insecure posers and self-masturbatory rock purists who labelled them emo wimps to run, baby run. The Fabulous Killjoys are about to shatter your balls from here to Uranus.

My Chemical Romance, it's about fuckin' time.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

In A Darkened Playground, The Night Is Ours.

9.30pm: the power goes out with a silent bang. There is a collective groan from those who were halfway through a movie download or awesome novel.

Ever notice how the sky brightens when you turn off the lights? Every faded cloud comes to the fore like half-formed nebulae. Every star is a miracle in the mottled velvet patchwork.

The stars lean down to kiss you
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere

'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly

We light candles; we text; we tweet. Thank the gods it is a cool night without the bother of not having a fan just when you need it. We tweet and text some more. We play games on our phones. My battery is running low, and I need something else to do.

I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days
'Cause nostalgia chills me to the bone

My brother and I hit the playground in front of our house. He is seventeen; I'm twenty-four. Both a little too old for swings and slides. But in the cover of lampless night, our age becomes less obvious.

I'll watch the night turn light blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly
The silence isn't so bad

To my delight I am fit enough to climb the monkey bars. My adult legs can close the gap between rungs that my kiddy limbs couldn't. The swing offers the same delight; the see-saw feels the same.

Drenched in vanilla twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought; when I think of you
I don't feel so alone

We climb atop the tunnels, the weathered smooth cement cool against our backs, and lie on them watching the moon. The night belongs to us.

When violet eyes get brighter
And heavy wings grow lighter
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again
And I'll forget the world that I knew.


* * * * * * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * ** * * *

© Vanilla Twilight lyrics belong to Owl City.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

SLITHER

because i like the word. and it's a great sexy song.

When you look
You see right through me
Cut the rope, fell to my knees
Fallen, broken every single time

Always keep me under finger
That's the spot where you would see me
Might see some type of pleasure in my mind

Yeah
Here comes the water

It comes to wash away the sins of you and I
This time you see

When you seek me
You destroy me
Rape my mind and smell the poppies
Born in blood in every single time

Always keep me under finger
That's the spot where you might linger
But I see some type of pleasure in my mind

Yeah
Here comes the water

It comes to wash away the sins of you and I
This time you see
Like holy water
It only burns you faster than you'll ever dry
This time with me.

© Velvet Revolver* (2004)

*one of the best band names in the history of bands.

Monday, September 13, 2010

6 Reasons Smokers Won't Quit

(and 6 reasons non-smokers feel tempted to start)


1. It just looks good.
Whether you're an elegant she-devil or a machismo-loaded cowboy, cigarettes are part of the picture. It gives you a chance to whip out that expensive Zippo, to dangle your slim ciggie holder like Cruella De Vil, while looking like you Couldn't Give A Fuck. Smoking is also a symbol of female liberation & bad-assery, as Kristen Stewart's Joan Jett in Runaways proved. Silver screens whisper that the languid serpentine coil drifting from the glowing tip of your cancer stick is sexy. And goddamnit, they're right.

Speaking of cancer...


2. Your grandpa smokes 10 Marlboros a day and is still alive.
He also downs Guinness like a mofo, which seems to further prove that everything your li'l yuppie health mag ever told you was bullshit. Lung tumours? Are you kiddin'? He looks tumours in the face and laughs like the cowboy he is. Meanwhile, you're 25, hit the gym every evening and still struggle with a spare tyre.

You'd think ol' granddad was the exception. But no....


3. Rock stars who look great for 50-year-old nicotine addicts
There's a reason rebellious youths get an urge to play some shredding guitar with a roll between their teeth. It goes with the whole...image. The leather; the tight ripped denim; the nonchalance of checking out chicks through a faint haze of smoke. It makes you bad-boy archetype. It makes you feel like Slash. A guy who once drank and puffed himself into cardiac arrest, and still looks like sex. Him and your grandpa are out to make the entire medical community look like dicks.

And since the mention of dicks came up...


4. Phallic power & all that loaded symbolism
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. And sometimes it's a badge of Arnold's action-hero testosterone. Or an innuendo-laden flirtation tool. If you've ever felt turned on by a lover lighting your smoke, you know the power of the humble deathstick*. It also possibly provides an explanation to the post-coitus cigarette.

(*that's what they call it in Star Wars Ep III. because Obi-Wan never met Slash or your granddad.)


It's not just a useful come-on, though. Cigarettes are also great for perfectly platonic interactions...


5. It's what social people do.
As if staring at computers all day long wasn't unhealthy enough, most yuppies pick up ciggies as a convenient bonding activity. It's a great way to meet someone new or catch up on old times. It's the great equaliser between you and your boss (one pair of tar-stained lungs look the same as another). And notice how you don't need to be a good conversationalist? Having something to do with your fingers and mouth means the effortless filling of silent awkward gaps.

However, if there's one thing that beats the perks of social smoking, it's...


6. The cool stuff that comes with it
The sleek silver case. The lighter with an emblem of your favourite whisky or band. The countless novelty ashtrays into which to empty your butts. The limited edition packs. Humans love their toys, and the fact that ciggies are addictive in themselves doesn't help. While it's unlikely that people will start lighting up just so they can amass a cool collection of Zippos, people with said collectionof Zippos are less likely to stop.

=== ~~ === ~~ === ~~ === ~~ === ~~ === ~~ === ~~

It is better to indulge knowingly than to sin in ignorance.
Serpent 3:16

Monday, September 6, 2010

Leather, Silver & Steel

& skulls, & chains, & good ol-fashioned studs.

This is not by any stretch a lame attempt to look bad-ass. I am instinctively attracted to these things; they add such attitude to any outfit. And any suggestion that I am a 'poser' or 'trying too hard' will be met with a fistful of one of these....


:) I'm kidding. Mostly. Anyway, this is me showing off my collection of wristbands. Aren't they pretty? Thanks to the Macro function I was able to go real up close for details. Leather and metal surfaces, especially slightly aged ones, can yield subtly lovely textures.

Save it for the storm

To all you high-maintenance chicks out there. A little announcement: whipping out an umbrella at the slightest sliver of sun makes you and the rest of us skirts look like wuss-pussies. Please, stop it. Besides, if you're as soft and pale as you look, you could probably use a little browning.

Also, a thunderstorm may kill you, but two drops of rain will not. Fact of life.

Thank you ladies! Rant over.

Friday, September 3, 2010

For you tread on my dreams

Being afraid.

Being tempted. 

Being coaxed out of your skin and then shrinking back in because the only way out would strip away everything you hold dear.

These are the things you feel at the moment of doubt.

Where you laugh at your silliness and then cry in the toilet moments later.

But it's good to feel it. A good kind of hurt. Makes you feel alive.

Strange to be labelled strong, and then be willing to lay it all at the feet of the person you love. To risk the crushing of hope. What was that quote?

"Be careful, for you tread on my dreams."



- - -
Picture is an original work of Melvin Moten aka kentsoul, friend and gifted photographer

Lust.

I don't really do touchphones, even the all-the-rage iPhone. Especially not the iPhone, because it's big and expensive you can't fit it into your pocket and it's expensive (did I say that already?). Plus the fact that about halfway into a text message, your screen = Smudgefest.

However. If there was one reason I'd want to proudly display this gadget on my desk -- or better yet, wear it as a really expensive accessory -- it would be this.




And this.



HOLYFUCK can someone tear my lustful eyes away.

These and a bunch of other gorgeous phone togs were designed by Hannah Stouffer, a gifted lady who will make you love slithering things as much as I do, if not more.


Just a few facts:
  • Snakes are possibly the only mobile living things on earth with utter control of their muscles. In fact they are made more or less of muscle, and some very pretty skin. In other words, you're just jealous.
  • A tiny fraction of the world's entire snake population is venomous. The rest will simply a)crush you to death or b)leave you alone -- the wee little grass snake, for example, can't do shit to a human being. The boa constrictor, meanwhile, swallows cows for breakfast. Keep that in consideration when you're looking for a reptile pet. Unless you have a barnyard in which to keep all the cows.
  • I get this question quite a bit, so for those who've yet to ask: the tattoo on my left arm is a python, not a viper. Vipers have distinctively diamond-shaped heads. I prefer pythons & constrictors because of their ultra sensual, slow coiling movements.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Heart On Sleeve?

...I Don't Think So.
I may cry freely at the ending in
Armageddon, but that doesn't mean I enjoy doing it. Especially when you factor in the runny nose and ruined eyeliner.

The other day my colleague and dear friend Jit told me: "You MUST watch Aftershock. I guarantee it'll make you cry."

Right. That's like convincing someone to get a piercing and guaranteeing it'll hurt. Sorry, what's the good part again?

Jit is the darlingest person you will ever meet, but he can be strange that way. Or maybe he just needed a good cry that day. (Jit, you know my shoulder is there for you, right?)

He guessed right that I don't enjoy being vulnerable in front of other people. With the exception of my mom and dad, perhaps. I have dreams about being suddenly naked all the time with nobody noticing. Supposedly it's a sign of inner vulnerability.

It's why I don't listen to Seal or Taylor Swift in public (and in my defence, i have exactly ONE Seal and ONE Tay Swift song on my playlist, shaddup). It's also why I'd rather watch Alice blowing up zombies in the upcoming Resident Evil: Afterlife. In 3D, hellyeah.

Aftershock, and the tears it supposedly brings, can wait till I'm alone.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

What The Serpent Said

"So it was that with much arse-kicking courtesy of the winged, flame wielding bouncers, the troublemakers were ousted from Club Eden."

The sinuous serpent rippled its ribs and pondered a while.

"I thought, well there goes the life of the party," it hissed. "And a whole bunch of future incestuous offspring with them, too. Where's the fun now?"

"Don't tempt me," said Lilith in her velvety ancient voice.

"They'll likely have sex, too. A lot of it. Although the fig leaves might get in the way for a while. And -- oh, here comes the Don."

The blinding presence of the Lord Almighty descended the epic marble staircase of Eden all the way into the lush green grass of Paradise Lounge. His eyes fell upon the lovely slithering being before Him.

A giant finger pushed itself into the serpent's face.

"GET OUT, BETRAYER."

"Oooooh the drama," Lilith murmured.

"Evening, Milord. What a beautiful day it is in Paradise."

"DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?"

The reptile's silver-lidded eyes narrowed. Now He was just being rude. That, on top of the ridiculous rules about non-sexual nudity and fruit-sharing, was about all the serpent could take. With a sharp intake of breath,it spoke its final words in Eden:

"Why don't you make me?"

One of the Sexiest Voices on Radio

At some point or other you are either gonna get paid to plug something on your blog, or -- if like me you're neither rich nor famous -- plug it just becoz you can.

So here's my first plug in what's only my second post. Go listen. Here

This man plays all my favourite songs. Not surprising, since he's one of my favourite people in the world.

Thank you, Mr Hudson. I'll always remember 5th August when I saw you live.
(and then was broke after that for what i spent on front row tix but that's beside the point...)

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

4 + 1 = A Senseless Start

I am sitting in my t-shirt and panties typing this moments after creating a blog on the request of a friend I met in a bar after four whiskies and a margarita.

If that sentence made sense, you need to start getting more sleep.

Or you'll end up like me, a restless person filling a brand new blog with shit because she can't sleep. (perhaps one more shot on the rocks will help. but i'm alone now, and i'm pretty much a social drinker; there is no joy in downing one alone.)

It is also our National Independence Day right now. Happy Merdeka to all Malaysians.