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Friday, December 31, 2004
happy new year.
okay im very tired. ill iron out the kinks in this new template later.
whee_
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randomly..
ennaux! brought to you by dexuan and joanna joy. haha.
oh yeah, today i heard from my psl and my ogl heard from me. so nice, we're all in touch. haha. but anyway, i just wanted to say that its really nice to hear from your psl when you're in J1! its pretty cool when you think about how the last time you really interacted was in sec one, and now you're four years older and your psl is in the army and about to leave for the states on a caas scholarship.
i think of all my psls i remember andy the best. for some reason or other, although i got along fine with the others, i got along with him the best. he's in camp now but had to go because it was time for lights out. i remember my sec one days.. and all my psls. they were shy, i thought. but they looked nice enough, and not the intimidating, forever-angry-looking sort. and they were! surprise surprise.
so now its back to another orientation, but just next door at rj. i feel sec one all over again. not that its such a bad thing.. but all the same i feel rather apprehensive. oh well.
randomly..
goodness. i cant believe im seeing you in school after all. what the hell. i really thought that you wouldnt make it. i guess you had some tricks left after all.
randomly..
i dont want to dye my hair back! i went to cut my hair today at the same place and they asked if i wanted to dye it back today and i obviously said no. but i cant keep this hair for orietation. im so sad.
speaking of which, welcome back su wee. im so glad your safe. it was quite frightening really..
whee_
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i am extremely bored. i am so bored that i will write in complete, coherent sentences with perfect grammatical structures. okay scrap that. it takes too mucch effort to sustain beyond two sentences. but really, ive been online for a very long time, my most recent activity being blogsurfing for about, hmm, 4 hours or so. i hate the abysmal weather. it not only spoils your plans but dampens the mood such that all you feel like doing anyway is sleep and eat - sure fire way to grow fat, which really isnt the idea, im sure.
anyhow, i was stumped today! by this question that popped into my head! err yah. assuming elastic demand, why does marginal utility diminish slowly if the price of a good with close substitutes fall slowly, cetreis paribus? that was the reason i came online, now i remember. i was just so annoyed that i could not figure that one out that i decided to ditch econs altogether and come online. not that it was a very wise decision seeing how unfruitful the whole bloody day's been.
oh yes. i chanced upon someone's blog today. okay "chanced" is the wrong word. its just hard to believe were still reading each others blogs even though we've only interacted as teacher and student for one short week last year. for some reason, one entry made me realise, or rather, made me feel that i should just start blogging nonsensically. well, mostly because after awhile i get bored of feeling sorry for every goddamn thing thats affecting me and the rest of the world, and his blog kinda elucidated that, discreetly and not so discreetly. haha.
tomorrow is the big move. just going to see everyone whos bothering to come, and even that doesnt look particularly promising. if it rains.. that would really epitomise shitty. i havent worn my school uniform in weeks and it feels so odd having to finally don the thing again. i bet i cant even find my badge, which would be undeniably tragic.
and then its thursday, friday, and voila! the new year. gosh. i never thought the year would come but it did, jus like many other things i dread. but anyway, next year is gonna be very annoying in several ways, especially since it calls for so many decisions to be made, something not very pleasant. i hate having to choose, especially between two things i cannot bear not to have, or even worse, several things that i want.
i remember having the hardest time choosing my subject combi for humans. it was hell having to pick between geog and history. and in the end i just decided that i was probably more prepared for a level geog as opposed to history and so i wrote it down immediately, lest i decided to deliberate even more afterward. looking back im not even sure why im doing humans. its not that i hate the sciences or anything. its probably only because ive greater aptitude in them, which i suppose, isnt so surprising. i just wish i didnt have to choose so much.
i hate thinking that one day, the things i choose to do, and more importantly (perhaps) the things i choose not to do, could prove detrimental. reading all the econs has muddled me up alot - i keep thinking about how the marginal utility of getting more sleep far exceeds the opportunity costs when i sleep in and piss the shit outta my parents, hence i should sleep in. but in the end it kinda depresses the total utility cos parents sure know how to get back at you. then again my parents arent that bad. thank goodness.
anyway, there sure isnt any utility to be gained by staying at home tomorrow instead of waking up early to go to school. so im off for the moment. ta.
whee_
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hmmm. christmas has been such a weird experience. i really thought it would have been more pleasant.. i mean, it was uneventful, for me anyway, but i guess thats better than it being bad. anyhow im not ready to blog. hopefully su wee and everyone else in phukets doing fine. at times like this i wish everyone could just fricking have autoroam.
anyway, courtesy of mr kwong:
"
Sunday
September 19, 2004
The Observer
I remember the first time I had sex - I still have the receipt. The girl was alive, as far as I could tell, she was warm and she was better than nothing. She cost me £20.
I was 16 then and I'm 41 now. I have spent 25 years throwing my money and heart at tarts. I have slept with every nationality in every position in every country. From high-class call girls at £1,000 a pop to the meat-rack girls of Soho at £15, I have probably slept with more than 1,000 prostitutes, at a cost of £100,000.
I am a connoisseur of prostitution: I can take its bouquet, taste it, roll it around my mouth, give you the vintage. I have used brothels, saunas, private homes from the internet and ordered girls to my flat prompt as pizza. While we are on the subject, I have also run a brothel. And I have been a male escort. I wish I was more ashamed. But I'm not. I love prostitutes and everything about them. And I care about them so much I don't want them to be made legal.
In English brothels you shuffle into a seedy room so dim you can only meet the girl by Braille. But in New York last year I sat on a four-poster bed while 10 girls paraded in front of me one by one, like bowls of sushi on a carousel. 'Hi,' they would say, 'I'm Tiffany', 'I'm Harmony', 'I'm Michelle', and I would rise and kiss them. It was so touching, so sweet, so kind. There should always, no matter what, be politeness. It is the way the outside world should work, selfishly but honestly.
The great thing about sex with whores is the excitement and variety. If you say you're enjoying sex with the same person after a couple of years you're either a liar or on something. Of all the sexual perversions, monogamy is the most unnatural. Most of our affairs run the usual course. Fever. Boredom. Trapped. This explains much of the friction in our lives - love being the delusion that one woman differs from another. But with brothels there is always the exhilaration of not knowing what you're going to get.
The problem with normal sex is that it leads to kissing and pretty soon you've got to talk to them. Once you know someone well the last thing you want to do is screw them. I like to give, never to receive; to have the power of the host, not the obligation of the guest. I can stop writing this and within two minutes I can be chained, in the arms of a whore. I know I am going to score and I know they don't really want me. And within 10 minutes I am back writing. What I hate are meaningless and heartless one-night stands where you tell all sorts of lies to get into bed with a woman you don't care for.
The worst things in life are free. Value seems to need a price tag. How can we respect a woman who doesn't value herself? When I was young I used to think it wasn't who you wanted to have sex with that was important, but who you were comfortable with socially and spiritually. Now I know that's rubbish. It's who you want to have sex with that's important. In the past I have deceived the women I have been with. You lie to two people in your life; your partner and the police. Everyone else gets the truth.
Part of me used to enjoy the deception. There was something about the poverty of desire with one's girlfriend. Sex without betrayal I found meaningless. Without cruelty there was no banquet. Having a secret life is exhilarating. I also have problems with unpaid-for sex. I am repulsed by the animality of the body, by its dirt and decay. The horror for me is the fact that the sublime, the beautiful and the divine are inextricable from basic animal functions. For some reason money mitigates this. Because it is anonymous.
What I hate with women generally is the intimacy, the invasion of my innermost space, the slow strangulation of my art. The writer chained for life to the routine of a wage slave and the ritual of copulation. When I love somebody, I feel sort of trapped. Three years ago I was saved. I found a girl whom I could fall in love with ... and sleep with prostitutes with. She sends me to brothels to sleep with women for her. I buy her girls for her birthday and we go to whorehouses together. I am free forever from the damp, dark prison of eternal love.
A prostitute exists outside the establishment. She is either rejected by it or in opposition to it, or both. It takes courage to cross this line. She deserves our respect, not our punishment. And certainly not our pity or prayers.Of course, the general feeling in this country is that the man is somehow exploiting the woman, but I don't believe this. In fact, the prostitute and the client, like the addict and the dealer, is the most successfully exploitative relationship of all. And the most pure. It is free of ulterior motives. There is no squalid power game. The man is not taking and the woman is not giving. The whore fuck is the purest fuck of all.
Why does a sleazy bastard like me like whores so much? Why pay for it? The problem is that the modern woman is a prostitute who doesn't deliver the goods. Teasers are never pleasers; they greedily accept presents to seal a contract and then break it. At least the whore pays the flesh that's haggled for. The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money usually costs a lot less.
But it is more than this. What I want is the sensation of sex without the boredom of its conveyance. Brothels make possible contacts of astounding physical intimacy without the intervention of personality. I love the artificial paradise; the anonymity; using money, the most impersonal instrument of intimacy to buy the most personal act of intimacy. Lust over love, sensation over security, and to fall into a woman's arms without falling into her hands.
Having an instinctive sympathy for those condemned by conventional society, I wanted to cross the line myself. To pay for sex is to strip away the veneer of artifice and civilisation and connect with the true animal nature of man. Some men proudly proclaim that they have never paid for it. Are they saying that money is more sacred than sex?
But one of the main reasons I enjoy prostitutes is because I enjoy breaking the law - another reason I don't want brothels made legal. There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it desirable. When I have dinner every evening in Soho I always think: isn't scampi delicious - what a pity it isn't illegal. I'm sure I am not alone in this. Even Adam himself did not want the apple for the apple's sake; he wanted it only because it was forbidden.
As for the girls, the argument is that making it legal will somehow make it safer, but Soho has one of the lowest crime rates in the country. Anyway, crime and risk are part of the texture of life. Indeed, Freud tells us: 'Life loses interest when the highest stake in the game of living, life itself, may not be risked.' Risk is what separates the good part of life from the tedium.
I decided to ask my Claudia, my favourite prostitute. I first spotted her in the street in Knightsbridge 10 years ago and was so taken by her haunted beauty that I decided to follow her. There was an air of great quality about Claudia. The faces of English girls look as if there is not enough materials to go round. They have thin lips and papery eyelids, box jawbones, prominent Adam's apples and withered hearts. Claudia looks Mediterranean - her lips are full and curly, her nostrils flared, her eyes black and as big as saucers.
She walked and I stalked all the way to Soho and down Brewer Street. No. No way. She couldn't be! She turned, and walked into a brothel. I couldn't believe it. I could fuck Raquel Welch for £25.When I ask if she wants prostitution legalised, she reacts violently: 'No way! I tried to take a regular job a few months ago. After tax and national insurance I was left with practically nothing. So I came back here. On a good day here I can take £500. I don't have a pimp, so after paying the overheads and the maid I've got more than enough.' There you are. Income tax has made more liars out of the British people than prostitution.
I know a little bit about the business side. Some years ago I became a madam and a male escort. I turned one of the rooms in my flat in Shepherd Market into a knocking shop and joined an escort agency. I went into prostitution looking for love, not money. That said, I always took cash. The women wanted company, someone willing to please at the midnight hour, and straight sex. It was nerve-wracking wondering if I was going to be able to get it up or get on, but at least I had a valid reason for liking my lovers - they paid me. I didn't care if someone called me a whore and a pimp.
So you see, I have always been a prostitute by sympathy. As for the rest of society, prostitution is the mirror of man, and man has never been in danger of becoming bogged down in beauty. So why don't we leave it alone? Or learn to love it, like me? Sex is one of the most wholesome, spiritual and natural things money can buy. And like all games, it becomes more interesting when played for money. And even more so when it is illegal.
Hookers and drunks instinctively understand that common sense is the enemy of romance. Will the bureaucrats and politicians please leave us some unreality. I know what you are thinking. That it's all very well for people like me to idealise whores and thieves; to think that the street is somehow noble and picturesque; I have never had to live there. But so what? One day I will. Until such time, I have to pay for it. How else would someone young, rich and handsome get sex in this city? Yes, yes, I know. Prostitution is obscene, debasing and disgraceful. The point is, so am I."
merry christmas and a happy new year everyone.
whee_
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this is kinda weird. i had wanted to type in something but i forgot what. actually its more of i cant figure out where to begin. i wish there was an easier way to understand what exactly im feeling so i can put it as accurately in words. its rather annoying having to figure out what youre feeling all the time. which of course reminds me of the fact that so many people are just completely out of touch with their own emotions, its quite amazing. apparently isnt it the one thing that seperates us humans from animals? or is that the ability to think and discern between right and wrong etc.
or maybe its the ability to have faith. i certainly dont see cats and dogs congregating for worship. then again, this isnt the only type of "faith" im talking about. im talking about hope. im talking about believing that there is some sort of greater good out there, and simultaneously perhaps also believing that there is another greater being that knows what he's doing, that its all part of the plan, that this is all a test. i know now why i cannot, anytime soon, be prepared to dedicate myself to any religous cause of any kind. it requires too big a leap of faith, and im just not ready to jump.
leaps of faith.. and believing too much and too deeply come hand in hand sometimes. faith blinds you. which is why i was about to declare that as much as im agnostic, im half-prepared to half-say that i i half-believe in god. not what man says about god, but the idea of a superior being watching us from above. i do not know who he is and why im here in relation to his being god, but its a comfortable idea all the same. i mean, dying and thinking that im going to heaven is much nicer than thinking about how ill rot six feet under.
but whatever. im tired of dwelling on such things. theyre so ethereal. its just not my reality. isnt it so odd. why do we compare ourselves to people who are dying of famine in some faraway nation and declare that we should be grateful because at the very least we have food. well going by that same argument shouldnt we be spiteful that were not as rich or as good looking or as smart as other people? we all have our own set of unique problems. i just think its irrelevant to compare lives in such vastly different situations.
i mean, how do you tell an unemployed man who has to feed his family that he should be grateful that at least he was a working toilet as compared to some family in a remote village in cambodia, who may not have a working toilet, but they have everything that they really need - they grow their own food and the kids are happy amusing themselves everyday. its two completely different situations and i hate it when people try to tell me to be happy because at least i have all my limbs intact.
i dont like to look in such a way where i have to think that i could actually be doing worse off. thats such a wrong attitude. okay whatever. im rambling rubbish again. all i know is that ive had a pretty good hols in a sense that i managed to do several things:
1) catch up with old friends
2) do cip
3) read up for next year
4) catch up, to a small extent, on sleep
then again its been quite a sickening holidays filled with unpleasant realisations. like.. for example, i began to see that so many of my frienships are meaningless and that theyre borne out of convinience, instead of real desire for companionship. its all about investing in people for what they can do for you, and rarely for what they are. then again, what they are, if they could do many things for you, is useful. so its all boiling down to the same thing. ive also come to realise that deep down i disliked several people immensely, its just that for the sake of peaceful daily lives, theres always this nice verneer. but now that its time to move on to the next chapter.. ive come to see that these people can be discarded just as another memory of the life before. surely they mean so little only because they serve no real purpose in your life. theyre just like strangers who you came to know more intimately. sure, theyre friends, but i find that the real friends arent those who are around all the time. its those who are there when you need them, and those who know when to leave you alone.
and if theres one thing im grateful for, is that im blessed with a few of such individuals in my life. these people make waking up every day and climbing out of bed not such a chore to do. and on that note, im going offline.
whee_
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okay - i decided to publicly thank shumin for her wondeful xmas/new year card. wish i could wake up to something to that nice every morning!
so heres a huugeeeeee THANKS to shummie for her card! its really nice!
whee_
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im so tired. and im so bored. im so tired of being so bored. i could just cry out of necessity to do something instead of stone around. im dying. seriously. i need something to do. if i havent anything to do.. its just not pleasant at all. its when youre not occupied where you do silly things.. like reminisce. in fond memory or otherwise. tts why the minutes before you finally fall aslp are so shitty. sometimes jus to occupy myself ill text somebody and write a really long msg.. then ill fall aslp halfway and wake up realising that the msg was only half done.
ill find something to do lah. fuck.
whee_
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hi.
im very tired. my blog strike didnt work. i realised that ill just explode if i dont even attempt to say something about my days. then again.. this was after all meant to document my life when i was (am) young and foolish, so if i dont say anything, its hardly worth any documentary value. then again, sometimes silence seems so loud.
anyhow.. im very tired. been busking for two days now. today didnt go as well as yesterday.. maybe cos it was so hot, and we were both so tired and headachy, and the audience wasnt fantastic. not that we were anyway. our throats were sore. we didnt even sing for two hours.. and the day before we did nearly three. nvm. preparing new material for next week.. its gonna be good hopefully.
hmm. other plans for next week.. dunno lah. things will probably come up as they always do. sigh. anyway. im feeling sad tonight. maybe its all the weariness and singing of an jing and other sad things. it probably is lah.. its so strange to be singing happy songs when you feel unhappy.
when you cant have someone who loves you, it doesnt hurt to have many who like you.
when you cant have someone who needs you, it doesnt hurt to have many who want you around.
when you cant mean the world to someone, it doesnt hurt to be someone to the world.
when youre me, it doesnt hurt to change.
whee_
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busking.
friday 7-9pm outside parago, near lucky plaza.
saturday 3-5pm outside paragon, near lucky plaza again.
next fri and sat once more, at another timeslot to be updated later.
whee_
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