Gabriel's Subtext

2011-03-20T19:35:00.003+11:00

i never understand why people make business trips up to be as glamorous as they should be. unless you sadistically enjoy working across two time zones, eating from plastic trays [if you fly peasant class] and have to be entertaining and dazzling on your feet all day.

so strangely enough, i finally had status envy when i had to complete domestic sectors in the US. instead of having to join the masses for the millennium wave scanner and pat downs, i experienced my first united 1k treatment as i was travelling with a high net worth colleague. red carpet, regular scan and no invasive pat downs. if any man with 1k status had propositioned me on my return leg, i would have said yes without any hesitation.

despite the craziness of it all, i acquired new possessions, had wonderful meals and caught up with those who were close and dear. just need to catch up on sleep now.

ate: boulevard, out the door and kuletos

bought: diesel, gnc, A+F, tom ford and garments engineered [an absolutely gorgeous made in NY jacket]

slept: crescent san francisco and jw marriott san antonio

i still love san francisco. it reminds me of melbourne.

2011-03-14T03:46:00.004+11:00

there are many ways i have celebrated my birthday and i did it quite differently when i turned 39. on a plane heading to san francisco only to arrive on the same day that i left singapore - i've had two birthdays effectively.

i think birthdays become less eventful when you get older. i've been writing presentations and speeches for a work conference and been toying with a concept that when you turn 16, how it opens up a world of possibilities and how exciting it can be.

its probably the same when you turn 18 or 21, depending on the legal ages for drinking or driving where you come from. but there is this long pause between these milestones until you hit the big 40. and that becomes life changing for many people.

its either a celebration of all the things you've achieved through life. or a pause to consider what other avenues you could explore or fix in your life to be more fulfilled. 40 can be cruel, kind, crazy, unpredictable but never boring. i'd like to believe if you've come so far in life, you are probably doing something right.

2011-02-27T00:33:00.003+11:00

dear janice

we never met. i am the tenant after you have vacated this apartment. i'm taking a stab in the dark by saying we probably have a couple of things in common. for one, we were both economic refugees who have decamped in singapore because of our career opportunities.

you probably worked for an international firm and were vested shares for your loyalty to the business. you loved the environment and supported environmental NGOs while you worked or lived overseas. you were probably a fashionista and had long hair.

i'm a bit of all the above. except i haven't had long hair for many years.

if i have been in anyway accurate in depicting who you are, that's probably because you haven't redirected your mail and i'm still receiving stuff addressed to you. i've binned it because i can't be arsed bothered to redirect stuff if you aren't interested in doing it yourself. and the landlord had to get a plumber in to clear the blocked drainage in the shower. i certainly don't have long hair so it was probably yours.

2011-02-07T03:03:00.003+11:00

day 5 - sydney: i frantically butter my sourdough toast over breakfast dreading the lecture i got from the same waitress when i left it untouched. both slices. i decided to throw low carbs out of the door on my visit to sydney. honestly, with all that wine i was drinking, what difference would it make?

but all that mattered was the feeling that i was home. everything felt familiar. strange you might say, after moving away for four months. people i loved, familiar faces, familiar places and my fur children.

so while my bags get unpacked in the next couple of days, i've brought home happy thoughts of things i've done on my six days:

1. fur children in my bed and on the couch, sleeping on my chest and between my legs

2. rekindling with my besties and ex-colleagues

3. watching the kids are alright and thinking what an excellent play it will make

4. rockpool bar and grill, mille vini, gotham, kantine, two eggs, thomas dux

5. annie lebovitz at MCA

6. the blistering heat in a cloudless summer sky

i'll do it all again soon.

2011-01-21T00:44:00.003+11:00

does having an asian model as the face of louis vuitton make its brand more culturally diverse or does it make the brand more appealing to asians?

LV picked an excellent subject because it sparks an age old debate of what masculinity is -- and if asian male models can represent masculinity. and the debate reigns into whether he's hot simply because he is 'western' looking. my favourite comment was from someone who said his parents were wise enough not to let him sleep on his head when he was a baby. WTF.

so for fuck's sake world. let's just put race and skin colour aside for a minute and tell me you don't think godfrey gao is hot.

would i buy some LV because he's their face? probably not. would i buy some LV because i'd get to sleep with him. hell yeah. but as with all things gorgeous, beauty is at its peak when the least words are spoken.

so for the record: godfrey is definitely not taiwanese-canadian. he speaks atrocious mandarin and english with a malaysian accent.

and i might start having asian carbs from tomorrow.

2011-01-17T01:29:00.003+11:00

day 111: i've blinked and its a new year already. well.

2010-11-29T23:50:00.003+11:00

soup may not be delicious but its revitalising.

papayas with freckled skins generally sweeter than those with flawless skin.

i swear my mother was writing in a subtext when she left me this note today after stopping by while i was at the office. she's probably given up on the fact that i won't find a husband before i die because i'm damaged and i have unrealistic expectations of life. so this note was probably her way of telling me i will be a lost cause unless i read between the lines.

mothers are so wise. but of course, she could have left that note after she saw a copy of people magazine's 25th anniversary edition of the sexiest men alive. so before i go to hell for having unrealistic expectations about the men i would like to marry, i'm going to agree or disagree with people on their choice:

1. ryan reynolds: yes. moment: blade trinity on his knees.

2. leonardo di caprio: no.

3. bradley cooper: yes. moment: any when he smiles and his eyes light up the screen.

4. justin timberlake: no. especially after the social network.

5. robert downey jr: no.

6. josh duhamel: yes. moment: a keeper because i think he might age well like george clooney.

7. james franco: no

8. sam worthington: yes. moment: when i realised he was one of us [as in australian, not gay].

9. jake gyllenhaal: yes. moment: brothers.

10. lebron james: no

11. clive owen: yes. moment: the boys are back. i have a soft spot for men who cry on screen.

12. maksim chmerkoskiy: no.

13. john hamm. no.

14. patrick dempsey. no.

15. tom ford. yes. moment: when i first smelt tuscan leather and watched the single man twice.

16. wil smith. no.

17. robert pattison. no. are you out of your mind?

18. drake. no.

19. matthew morrison: yes. moment: in GQ december 2010. where did those abs come from?

20. dwayne johnson. no.

21. chris pine. no.

22. adrian grieiner. no.

i seemed to have lost count and missed three so i've taken the liberty to make these recommendations to people. honestly, how could you have missed them.

23. ryan kwanten. yes. moment: true blood season 1. and he is one of ours.

24. kerry degman. yes. moment: tetu but everyday on twitter because he's real.

25. ryan phillippe. yes. moment: cruel intentions. it was his pseudo brett easton ellis cruelty.

regular broadcasts will resume shortly.

2010-11-11T00:20:00.002+11:00

someone asked me today if i missed my life in sydney. i said that thought crossed my mind last night in a quiet moment when the world stopped spinning.

what i didn't say was the feeling of emptiness that swept over me. over how much i missed my miniature schnauzers, sky and rei. the clear blue skies i could see from my apartment in the morning. the perfect moments of work/life balance. my friends in sydney. a saturday breakfast at kantine followed by a quick shop at thomas dux. great coffee and meals that leave me speechless.

or how i felt at that moment when i cried because i've been fighting an uphill battle everyday trying to be extraordinary and living up to expectations.

2010-10-25T00:16:00.003+11:00

day 27, singapore: the advice of my friends fall into deaf ears. i've been told repeatedly that i'll be targeted by younger boys. which of course i refuse to believe because it makes me the predator. so i will finally accept and agree because in my time here, i've been cruised often - on the street, in malls, public transport, on grindr and even in the change rooms. by boys who are younger than me. i used to laugh and disagree with my friends in sydney who said gay singapore can be in your face. i take my words back now because if you like to feel like a meat rack, this is your city. do i like being objectified? i like the power.

2010-10-13T02:07:00.002+11:00

day 15, taipei: for the last couple of nights before i get to bed, i have messages under my door telling me what time my pick up will be in the morning. and then i dive into a room full of presos and people talking about their priorities and strategies. between taking copious amounts of notes and downing red bulls, i engage with a team of people who are extremely dedicated, passionate and bright. i can't wish for more because i've worked hard all my life to be surrounded by such people. my mind is shutting down but my body tells me i have another day of engagement, priority setting and relationship building. i haven't seen taipei other than my hotel, office and dinner at restaurants but i am feeling so contented.

as bette milder sang:

You've got to give a little, take a little
And let your poor heart break a little
That's the story of, That's the glory of love
You've got to laugh a little, cry a little
Until the clouds roll by a little
That's the story of, That's the glory of love

*let's talk tomorrow*

2010-10-09T08:16:00.003+11:00

day 12, singapore: the best thing about coming back to your birthplace after living in sydney for the last eight years is discovering how lost you are. there is an entire network of new train stations i have never heard of. the CBD where i work has all these new buildings i never knew existed. and a whole bunch of new malls and hotels have popped up everywhere. someone stopped me for directions the other day and i told them i had no clue. i am nose deep in cafes, subway ripoffs and new world wines. i work in an office where half of its employees come from somewhere else. so i feel comforted by the fact that they are as lost as i am. or that they know as much as i do about this city.

my body clock wakes me up at 0600 AEST. i get giddy when i see wine labels i am familiar with. or when i hear an aussie accent. but otherwise, everything else around me spins at a dizzy pace. i have a bag to pack today for a work trip to taipei tomorrow. just as i've unpacked both suitcases and put things away. life sure moves on.

2010-10-02T09:47:00.003+10:00

day 5, singapore: i've been invited to a black tie luxury jewellery launch organised by a friend who owns and runs a top notch consumer PR agency. there isn't a familiar face in the crowd except for a celebrity whom i had a bit of a crush on [who has aged somewhat gracefully with botox], a gaggle of gays and enough tai-tai's [women married to money] to make it a top notch blingfest.

some things have never changed after all these years. 1/ a 7:30pm start for an event begins at 8:30pm. 2/ there is still a very broad interpretation for black tie and this includes sneakers, shopping bags and t-shirts. 3/ i am standing next to the media scrum and recognise this photographer who has covered my events from years ago. what a small world indeed.

piper flows quite freely in wide rimmed red champagne glasses. it makes me feel quite happy since the cost of alcohol is prohibitive here. i make small talk with this man who tells me he runs a luxury hair salon that serves champagne to his customers and he'd like me to pay him a visit. sure, i like nothing more than fishing bits of hair out of my alcohol while someone does my hair.

josh and i have a chinwag about my gala event and i find out the luxury hair salon owner has tried to get into his pants as well.

what a small world indeed.

2010-09-29T23:52:00.006+10:00

me: how did you teach your cats to open doors? did they go to insead and have an MBA?

josh: oliver is a smart cat! he learns by observing....

me: that is amazing. so i better lock the door at night when i sleep just in case he comes into the room and fucks me senseless.

josh: haha. i think so too......

day 3, singapore: josh is away on a business trip so i'm house guest and cat sitter. except i've never had cats as pets in my life so i'm learning the ropes. there are two of them and they are rather adorable and out of control like all good pets should be. oliver has a knack for opening room doors that are shut and i had a cirque de soleil show at 4am where he leapt from the floor onto my bed and onto the top of the wardrobe. it went on repeat for a couple of times while i watched in amazement, half asleep.

i've been very spoilt with my family and friends shuttling me between home inspections and socials, not wanting to expose me to the real world. so nothing has hit me yet other than the vast changes in the city which makes me feel very lost in a place that was once my home eight years ago.

2010-09-27T07:10:00.001+10:00

Moving forward. That’s a phrase I use often in consulting. When things don’t go as plan, we ‘move forward’ taking the lessons we’ve learnt and not repeating the mistakes again. Just like how Labor had used this extensively prior to the election. Or I say ‘moving forward’ to present a series of next steps that are form the program recommendations for a strategy or plan.

Moving forward isn’t a bad thing but it comes with a bit of teeth gnashing, tears and an overwhelming feeling of loss and uncertainty. Like I felt in my last week in Sydney boxing up my life, emptying my apartment, wrapping up work and saying goodbye to friends and colleagues. In that timeframe, I’ve dealt with lots of memories and asked myself many honest questions.

I’d like to sum this up in a post which I can look back at one day and reflect. Its my last day in Sydney so it has all crystallised in my head what my 7.5 years here has given me:

1. I’ve learnt that relocating isn’t hard and you just need to have balls to deal with change. And try not to accumulate too much stuff in life. Packing is a bitch.

2. Taking a sabbatical year off to live on my credit card and part-time work to do a postgraduate program. I have a deep awareness for environmental and climate change issues that I have applied on many client programs. And in that process, I’ve learnt to slow down and breathe.

3. An exceptional career opportunity working with many brilliant people and having developed an intimate knowledge of the ANZ landscape. I can plan, reach out to influencers from the little black book in my head and speak [convincing] enough strine when I pitch to decision makers.

4. I have deliberately kept few and close friendships with people who are my extended family. I have left behind a team at work whom I care about immensely and they are my work family.

5. I’ve survived Crossfit so one-to-one personal training will be quite whimpy to me now.

6. I have embraced the Australian psyche and its definitely chipped into my way of life. I’ve laughed much harder, shrugged my shoulders when needed and learnt to say ‘its alright’.

If you are still reading this blog, the geographical references will change tomorrow. But the writer hasn’t. I’m still one of you Sydneysiders wherever I’ll be. Thank you for being part of my life and journey.

2010-09-21T05:03:00.003+10:00

when people tell you how exciting and great it is to relocate to another city, they have no clue what they are talking about. in fact, you should say 'bollocks' to them because they don't have to figure out how to box up your entire life. or to sit on the couch holding your dogs bucketing in tears before you return them to your ex, not knowing when you will get to see them again.

i bet you only crazy people tell you that international relocations are fun. king and wilson have a great sense of humour because they call a move an 'uplift' in their documentation. would i associate relocations with being 'uplifting'? bollocks.

so if you are immensely private like me and hate the thought of letting strangers through your life, let alone seeing or touching your personal possessions, here are some packing tips:

1. crack the stelvin or uncork a very good bottle of wine. it helps to numb the pain.

2. if you don't remember seeing/using/owning something, bin it.

3. if its something you love dearly, bubblewrap it into a ball. the 'uplifters' are a bunch of bozos who don't understand the word 'fragile' on your boxes and are hell bent on breaking your precious life into little bits while its in transit.

4. create a pile of possessions you will give to beloved friends because it doesn't make sense to send it with you - unfinished bottles of alcohol, kitchen appliances, porn etc.

5. always replenish your store of good wine as you pack because you will need a bottle each day.

6. when you finish packing for the 'uplift' or airlift, your remaining possessions should only weigh as much as your checked baggage allowance. because anything exceeding that would result in more stress at the airport which is the last thing you need when you relocate.

7. sign any payment authorisations for 'uplifts' or airlifts without looking at the costs. you could have probably bought an entirely new life for the same price at your new destination.

2010-09-13T20:34:00.003+10:00

in the spirit of relocating, i'd like to share tips over the next 15 days with anyone who needs a little advice on moving overseas.

tip #1: stop buying shit you don't need or hoarding things because you think you might need them one day. you never will. while unaccompanied excess baggage is affordable, boxing and wrapping fragile items isn't a promise of fun. neither is hauling large quantities of stuff off to the salvos or tip.

tip #2: have like minded friends with equally good tastes as you have so they will be happy to buy the furniture you have loving acquired. and you'll get a chance to meet your ex-furniture when you visit one day.

tip #3: avoid trying to drink your entire liquor collection. your liver will appreciate you. on the same vein, avoid trying to drink every conceivable bottle of wine you've never tried because 1.5 bottles in a night is not worth the next day's hangover.

tip #4: book in weekly massages with your beloved therapist because your sense of anxiety will melt into calm. or at least, his hands will unknot the aches of trying to dump or wrap things. or the aches of unwarranted worries.

tip #5: try not to meet everyone to say goodbye. only setup small catch-up sessions with people you'd only want around you should you get the chance to organise your own funeral.

tip #6: stop worrying about what needs to get done when you arrive in the city you are relocating to. close off one chapter of your life before thinking about the next. your brain will thank you.

tip #7: when in doubt, have a glass of wine and mull over it.

2010-09-11T04:53:00.002+10:00

my guest, ms white fluff ball, thinks the household should be awake at 430am and i get a face licking frenzy in lieu of the alarm clock. except 430 isn't any good for me in the mornings except if i have to head to crossfit. its nice having a living thing in the house during the week. she would be much more handy if she knew how to pack since this is the next pre0ccupation on my mind after securing a tenant for my apartment.

movers or excess baggage, the comfort of something familiar versus an apartment with everything brand new. nat shared a great point over dinner last night. always bring something familiar with you because that is an emotional anchor of what home feels like when you see it. she is right. i might have dragged a collection of japanese bowls with me through three households which i've hardly used. a painting that would have made it to asia and back now. but these things are part of my dna now. i see them and it reminds me of home wherever i may be.

2010-09-10T06:36:00.004+10:00

the embargo has lifted yesterday that i'm leaving sydney. after keeping things under wraps for the last few weeks getting client and team arrangements organised, my resignation was announced. i stood there feeling both happy and sad in front of my team. sad that i'm about to leave a wonderful and dedicated team whom i've enjoyed working with immensely. at the same time, happy because i've landed a new career opportunity that will take my professional life to the next level.

back in march, i wrote about how change was calling and over the last few months, i've felt deeply conflicted about where my life would be heading both on a professional and personal level. i love sydney but i feel its been an anchor that has held me back from learning and experiencing new things in life.

when the discussion of a significant and wonderful role was about to turn up on my radar, i headed to auckland for the weekend for a deep and meaningful timeout. i made a number of decisions that weekend about life and one of them was i still had many years ahead of me to make an interesting career for myself. that i have the mobility of being child/partner free to pack up and move countries a couple more times.

so instead of mourning the loss of what i've cherised, i am thankful for the experience of living in sydney as part of my journey through life. i'll be packing up in a fortnight and saying my goodbyes. but every memory is etched deeply in my heart.

2010-08-27T18:11:00.003+10:00

ben cousins, i hope you've paid your publicist lots of money for getting you this '7 exclusive'. the controlled messaging was great and so was that rolling cast of advocates. did it serve its purpose of elevating the negativities of drug use? maybe with that little ad from the australian drug foundation.

but the lack of conviction in your delivery betrayed you.

did you come across feeling sorry? no.

did you come across carrying that sense of regret? no.

did those around you come across feeling hurt and damaged? yes.

will we see you in the headlines again for falling sometime soon? absolutely.

ben's publicity machine: 9/10

ben's credibility and conviction: 2/10

ben shirtless in the program: 10/10

2010-08-17T19:39:00.002+10:00

you are probably wondering how i've been taking to crossfit for the last couple of months. i have one word for you - broken.

recently on a new routine.

i almost had a physical breakdown today post 3x bike 1000m/kettlebell 20x/400m run. the princess in me wanted to cry from the pain or breathlessness. and then i see other people wall balling/olympic lifting around me. not a whimper. i am a wuz.

if i was an animal, i'd probably be slaughtered and sold as mutton or very old cow. if i was a celebrity, i would probably be liza minnelli on restylane. on my last leg. on my last breath.

i see this boy around who is probably my age powering through it and i think, if he can, why can't i?

toughen up bitch.

2010-08-14T17:11:00.003+10:00

an election carries different meanings to different people but the central theme that remains constant in any campaign is the promise of change.

i still remember the last federal election clearly in my head. not only was it the first federal election i had to cast my vote in australia, but it was also the changes that were ahead of my life as i stood in line at the polling station on a wet saturday evening.

change was in the air when i said goodbye to erskineville, packing up my life and putting it in storage after the contracts were exchanged. my bank account groaned with money from the transaction as the plan was to bunk with my bestie for a couple of months while i found a new place to buy. it was the same week i handed in the last assignment for my postgraduate assignment and i was feeling the thrill of accomplishing another major milestone in my life. i felt change was all laid out in front of me. terrifying. uncertain and exhilirating.

except change that election weekend found me in a very different place in life. no longer in my bestie's apartment which i escaped in deep shame very early that morning after being caught in an act of infidelity with his new date. i can't think about anything more shameful i've ever done in my life. and the bigger shame of having this new date give me his number on a scribbled piece of paper.

call me if you need to talk

but what do i have to say except i don't know why i did what i did and you are truly revolting like i am right now

elections are like a little game show in life. where you are promised much and in an act of faith, you believe. but down the road, you are served a back hand and betrayed. and it leaves you feeling like a dirty little whore who didn't comprehend the severity of the consequences before you.

he wasn't even someone i would have laid eyes on. why did i?

whatever the reason, the ballot paper i pushed through the box was a vote of my hope for change. i've lost my bestie as a consequence of what i've done.

over this term of political bungles and dramas, my life has gone through lots of changes. and next saturday, i'll be marking yet another ballot paper with no hope of change. but i am reminded of the consequences of my actions. still feeling sorry, knowing that forgiveness is beyond my reach. and hoping change will once again be within reach. or possible.

2010-08-11T20:48:00.004+10:00

i tell suzy on my [phasebook] status update about how i can write an essay about why i love ben cousins.

why do i love ben?

he would be the proverbial bad boy who will break my heart. cheat on me. sleep with my best friends. sleep with any skanky whore he finds. disappear on a bender for days. have fighting/screaming matches and leave me in a state of despair.

i confess that i love bad boys. and nothing turns me on more than:

boys who are destroyed enough to tattoo 'such is life' on their bodies, are silly enough to be captured on video munted. are willing to live their lives in the public eye. and just keep living it badly in the eyes of the world and not give a fuck.

as silly as it sounds, its the boys who break your heart that you remember. that those are the ones you have the best ups and downs with in life. who will come back to you feeling sorry for what they've heaped on you. are absolutely grateful for your love. where you'll have the best make up sex after the worst fights. who will cherish the small moments with you [they can remember]. and you'll wake up next to, smiling the next morning - grateful that he is right there. asleep. next to you. just for that night. just one more night.

if this doesn't convince you, just watch the video they've posted here. if you need more evidence on how bad he is, read this.

would you say no to ben? fuck no.

2010-08-05T20:11:00.003+10:00

Attached to this e-mail you will find your E-Ticket Itinerary Receipt and the Terms and Conditions of Carriage.

when i read this sentence, it makes me really happy because it means its time to pack a bag and find myself somewhere else. melbourne was good a couple of weeks back but i felt deeply unsatisfied and deep down inside, i've been struggling to convince myself it was a proper break. because i still wake up feeling troubled and unresolved every morning.

so after sorting out my work schedule and having my generous boss approve my last minute request, i'm packing off to auckland on friday afternoon. the e-ticket lands in my inbox and i smile.

i can't wait to see chris, reece and puna.

i can't wait for my walk on waiheke island.

i can't wait to wake up to the view of the harbour from my room.

i can't wait to be taken away.

2010-08-01T21:10:00.003+10:00

i have movie deja-vu tonight when i watch valentine's day on dvd and realise i've actually watched it on the plane. it provoked my tear ducts and i felt fragile and vulnerable after watching it. not exactly the type of #loserdvdonsunday anyone should be watching but i am a tragic drama queen and brave through it. but the next dvd, separation city, is far better. besides the fact that its a kiwi production and has joel edgerton in it [he is massively hot], the script has lots of brilliant one liners. like:

wrong is pretending to be happy in a relationship you are not.

rather than fuck a stranger, you fucked one of my friends. It's so cruel. and lazy.

acid appeal 4/5 stars. all hail the aussie and kiwi film industry, if only the world understands you as well as we do.

2010-07-31T15:31:00.002+10:00

sorry, kitty has been in a foul mood.

after a couple of full moons this week, having to put up with a week with a messy apartment because i forgot to call my cleaner, desperately needing a massage [but jeff with magic hands is away until the end of august] and dealing with menopause. yes, i've somehow lost perspective of life.

i came across an awesome little piece of street art today that pressed my reset button. nested subtly under a street sign on goulburn st was this little gem. its such a precious reminder that we have control over our emotions. so i'm going to put this into practice this weekend.

deep breaths, big smile.

2010-07-24T20:25:00.003+10:00

because i've been bad yesterday, i'm under self confined house arrest tonight. but i'm in good company with horse meat disco II. i love disco because its gay, glamorous, glitter, silky, dramatic and terribly sexy. leonore o'malley's first be a woman is an anthem. i want this to be the last song for my funeral.

2010-07-21T21:05:00.001+10:00

if you had seven pages to tell a memorable short story, north morgan has done it in one paragraph. exit through the wound is a compelling tale of every migrant visiting their home country. a country which they no longer consider home but are attached to by family or cultural heritage. morgan skilfully crafts the words of the pain he feels being a stranger in a place he no longer identifies with - a wound he has tried to escape. he leaves readers wondering if he's leaving once again through the same wound he's tried to exit. and whether he will succeed once and for all.

2010-07-20T20:50:00.003+10:00

a text message flashes on my screen on sunday while i'm heading to the airport.

i miss hearing from you.

i don't know how to respond to this. or any of those types of messages/conversations i've been having these days under different guises from boys who have jerked with my emotions. i'm quite over being a toy and sometimes i just want to say:

fuck you. i think we should just get on with our own lives.

it does sound a little harsh but its one of those days/weeks/months when i want to bury these emotions and get them out of my system once and for all.

except i want logic to rule. so tonight, i will:

i've given you a chance
and more than once i believed
that you might be a better man
but instead you've taken the easy road
of going back to what you feel is safe/predictable/comfortable
maybe for once i'd like not to feel disposable
that i'm not second best in this world
maybe once this will be about me
and not your half baked or weak fantasies
some day, i'll start to believe i can be better
than what you've made me up to be

2010-07-18T20:10:00.006+10:00

18 July: QF496 MEL/SYD, Seat 42A: You are the boy in a dark grey hoodie sweater with a thin red/white candy cane striped scarf wearing g-star jeans. Thinking you've struck gold when you find "ridiculously cute" girl sitting in your seat when you board the plane.

that's alright you can stay in my seat. i'll just get you to hold my cycling magazine while i put my things away.

i can't see the expression of said girl. she was probably equally elated as well. boy doesn't get a chance to have a deeper conversation because the minute his bum lands on the seat, nonna rocks up to claim the girl's seat. she's obviously daft because she's in the wrong seat.

nonna said, sorry to break things up. i could move if you like?

ridiculously cute girl is embarrassed and vacates her seat for nonna.

i think she's a gutless bitch. but more for me. she's been terrified by that steely gaze, i would have as well.

did nonna have ignoble intentions on the boy just like me?

boy settles in his seat and pulls hood over himself and sleeps for the rest of the flight. not a word is exchanged with nonna. he probably hates her.

in the final minutes before we land, he unhinges his hood and i see his ash brown hair. its not as teased with gel when i first saw him since its collapsed under the weight of his hood. he looks out of the window and starts chewing his nails. they are trimmed really short but i see some chewed out nails.

why do you chew your nails? what keeps you awake at night? what are you thinking about right now? all these questions in my mind go unanswered. he wears a faded intricate band on his middle finger. he's not spoken for since the band isn't serious enough to be the wedded kind.

the plane docks at the terminal and he reaches down to get his tour de france cycling magazine. its the same magazine i've reached down to pick up while he was asleep.

on some random page, i've written:

sorry the troll broke you up.
i think you are absolutely gorgeous.
i like boys who live an active lifestyle.
and you obviously do, judging from your arms.
if its any consolation, i'd like to marry you.
please give me call if you feel the same way.
x seat 43A.

2010-07-07T21:04:00.002+10:00

i can stop chewing up my download limit listening to gavin creel on youtube now because he's released quiet on itunes and amazon. its probably the best $11 i spent this week.

gavin has a truly amazing voice and the lyrics for green to gray and anything at all are close to perfect. at least poetry for my baggage heavy life. will you please get on itunes and buy his album. please? so he'll make another. i'll be your slave. promise. i might even sleep with you.

in case i haven't convinced your cold heart, you can listen to him on youtube singing do you remember and the nearness of you. or you could just google images of him.

2010-07-06T20:38:00.000+10:00

winter is a bitch because it forces you to make all these decisions about life.

like whether i give a fuck to wake up at 5am to go for crossfit.

or whether i should drink red instead of having dinner because i'm in a foul mood after being caught in traffic for about 1:15. just crossing the harbour bridge.

or why should i be awake at 3am in the morning trying to solve these work equations in my head when i should be sound asleep.

every decision has a consequence and right now i want to give in to reckless abandonment. especially when i was given the cold shoulder. maybe i should be the one who needs to grow up and move on.

he's not that into you.

its not worth it.

i watch too many chick flicks. philosophy 101 FAIL.

2010-07-04T16:28:00.000+10:00

Listening to my ipod on the street or commuting shields me from many things in life. Like inane conversations on buses to charity hounds trying to get your attention.

I had a serious wave from ‘the dollar’ lady yesterday morning that stopped me. ‘the dollar’ lady is omnipresent in my suburb. She would always stop and ask, without fail, to anyone ‘can I have a dollar?’.

In my two years of meeting ‘the dollar’ lady, I would always smile and shake my head. I don’t like giving out spare change. It institutionalises handouts in a society that already generously doles out to anyone in need. I was shaking my head, imaging the same words as I walked past her. But that morning, it was punctuated with a two handed wave and I de-ipodded and stopped.

‘Can you help me light my cigarette?’ she asked as she held out her lighter. Sure. That was the least I could do on a windswept morning as she sat at her usual spot, the convenience store at my apartment block. After a few attempts, it was a clear sign of lighter failure. I couldn’t get the lighter to work. The lady asked if I could get her some matches in the convenience store. There was no way she would like that cigarette in this wind. Let me get you a lighter.

I handed her the lighter and she took out a small beaded coin pouch. I remembered that coin pouch from my childhood. My grandmother had the same coin pouch except it had orange beads and hers were clear. How much is it? That’s alright I said. I continued my journey thinking how I’ve avoided speaking to her for the past two years and how we were folded into a conversation on a windy day.

2010-06-27T17:44:00.001+10:00

hardly subtle but i didn't think he'd be pleased if i kicked his milk crate in my attempt to interact with street art. nevertheless, i gave that boy a dollar in exchange for a photo.

and for a stark contrast, here is a picture of a man i would like to marry. note that dazzling smile, that perfect jawline and those [blue] eyes. if bradley and i had boys, they would be perfect eurasians. strong jawlines, brilliant smiles and those amazing eyes you'll drown in just looking at.

[un]fortunately its genetically impossible. so god is fair.

i read bradley cooper's story first and the rest of the magazine is still unread. there are some comments from readers in the online edition that bradley cooper is gay. don't disappoint me brad. i need some true blooded hetrosexual male fantasies in my life: the ones i can't have or marry.

2010-06-20T17:58:00.000+10:00

1/ i could hear her chuckle when i announced the dates i wanted to travel with my miles.

you do know its a peak season and many people plan their holidays using their miles 12 months in advance.

oops, i left this one a little late. sorry.

let me see what i can do.

after waiting for what seemed to be eternity, i am presented with an itinerary which isn't as awful as i thought it would be because it didn't involve travelling on iberia [which i hate], malev [my fear of russian planes] or american [which i despise]. the routing is a little screwed since i have to fly via Tokyo [here's hoping JAL doesn't collapse], two five hour layovers, lots of BA flights [and i'm hoping they won't go on strike] and return via Shanghai with a one night stopover [i don't like China but would love recommendations on what i can do in a day]. the good bit is i get my asia/europe legs on premium economy which means i'm not cattle for once. mini moo. i felt the gods were smiling at me until i get my ticket and realised they've spelt my name wrong. back to the call centre on monday to sort this out. qantas fail.

2/ my liver needs a break desperately so i am insisting on some alcohol free nights after this weekend. drinking started with a vengeance on friday with the girls after work. its the end of financial year pressure and all the number crunching suits like me in australia are having trouble sleeping since our fingers are always crossed and we lie awake all night hoping none of the projected revenue falls off at the last minute. i'm at tim's 40th on saturday and we finish at my apartment with more champagne. i am inappropriately felt up by some wasted man at tim's party and freeze. it doesn't matter if you are hot or not, being drunk isn't a license to rub me like i'm a park bench. i don't like strangers feeling me up. period. my after party with simon at my apartment is heaps of fun. he pretends to be me on grindr and chats up some random man. we sing olivia newton john songs and i hope my neighbours don't hear my bad taste in music.

3/ i've given up my sunday afternoon to write an article to gain my required CPE for the year. i think its quite a marvellous piece of work considering the state i've been in today. i miss my planned evening jog because i am exhausted. and that craving for a sip of wine returns. mmmm....

2010-06-06T18:27:00.000+10:00

i admit i'm dramatic. nursing a hangover today, i spent the afternoon listening to burt bacahrach and realised he's written many songs about my life. fortunately its rainy today and i'm allowed to be dramatic. i do feel sorry for my neighbours. they are probably somewhat depressed now.

2010-06-03T19:51:00.001+10:00

effective advertising provokes emotions and that's what mcdonald's has done exactly when they created these advertisements in france. i can't imagine these ads ever seeing the light in australia since they would probably see massive boycotts and might very well get fire bombed for "promoting homosexuality" in australia. i posted this on facebook and said "nice one but the world just isn't ready".

being a brand that is associated with family values, this would be considered risky since it may potentially alienate your customers. but i love it because its real. because this could very well be happening in any mcdonalds restaurant in the world while you read this. that very emotion of being uncertain, afraid and ignorance all blended in one scene.

i have to say well done mcdonalds because you've created a conversation.

2010-05-30T18:02:00.000+10:00

1/ i concede defeat this weekend and laid to their graves two of the three plants in my house. i have no green thumbs even though i used to be in the gardening club when i was a child. i have one remaining plant and i'm hoping this might survive. else i might just have to resort to fish. they are easier to flush down the toilet when dead. thank goodness i don't have children. i'll have to go through the trouble of hiring a skip or holding a funeral to send them off.

2/ is sydney becoming a little more like melbourne? on a friday night out with the team, we went to two distinctly different bars which would have sat pretty in melbourne. the absinthe salon was boudoir like beautiful and i could have just wittled hours away there. when we were ceremoniously booted out by the not so nice wait-gentlemen for their 9pm sitting [since when did bars have two sittings in a night, em?], we ended up at the cellar bar in the commons. it was like amalia in new york - dark, dungeonish and extremely cosy. recycled wood furniture, sandstone walls and low light are incredibly seductive combinations that i'd associate with melbourne.

3/ if you have been suffering from the full moon like i have this week, i hope you've survived it. i've been in the land of the living dead from severely disrupted sleep cycles and thoughts that i would rather not repeat in public. there are unfounded theories about the full moon and its impact on the mind. i try not to subscribe to it but when those days are here, without warning, my mind begins to whirl.

2010-05-27T22:08:00.000+10:00

i'm going through my glee musical phase where all i can think about is broadway, songs from the 80s and boys who serenade like this on stage to you. thanks to tim's rave about gavin creel, i've found this video where he's singing pasek and paul's do you remember. just close your eyes and listen. gavin's voice sends shivers down my spine. big time man crush.

2010-05-24T21:43:00.000+10:00

the group calendar note appears in my inbox at work indicating my leave over christmas has been approved. i'm both excited and a little terrified because it would technically be the longest break i've had in a stretch from work - two and a half weeks. some of my friends think i'm crazy for heading to europe during the bleakest season but i haven't had a snow white christmas before and that would be a first. it would also be a first being away on my own for such a long break.

i've quietly planned plane routes and trains, suburbs i'd like to stay in and clubs i'd like to go to but when i'm faced with hitting the book button tonight, i pause and go -- let me sleep on it tonight.

at the moment, my guiding compass goes to:

stay: miniloft [berlin], hotel josef [prague] and hotel duo [paris]

play: berghain [berlin], kino international [berlin], club valentino [prague]

see: where do i even begin......

please throw in your suggestions of restaurants, boys and malls i shouldn't miss.

2010-05-21T19:02:00.000+10:00

i wrote to mission foods to express my disgust that they were supporting the western bulldogs where jason ackermanis plays. i got a lovely PR-esque email saying:

Dear Gabriel

Thank you for taking the time to email us regarding Jason Akermanis’ recent article in the Herald Sun.

We at Mission Foods support the community and only a small part of that program is our partnership with the Western Bulldogs.

Jason’s article is based on his opinion and in no way does he represent Mission nor reflect our corporate beliefs.

Mission Foods globally supports the well being of society and the environment with activities focusing in three main areas: education and sports development, strengthening the municipal infrastructure and several community development programs.

We fully respect and welcome any person regardless of race, religion or sexual preference and any suggestion to the contrary goes completely against the tireless work Mission Foods does in communities globally.

We regret the emotions that have been stirred by the comments made and hope by way of responding to your email and explaining our Corporate beliefs and community work globally, have been able to address the concerns you have in alleviating the ill feelings towards our brand and company.

If you would kindly send us your address details we would like to take the opportunity to send you a Mission Foods hamper as a thank you for taking the time to write to us.

Kind regards

Maria

Maria Mitropoulos

National Marketing Manager

Direct Line:+61 38401-1408

Mobile - 0409 681 477 l Email:Maria_Mitropoulos@missionfoods.com.au

I don't want your hamper Mission Foods. As long as you support a club that has homophobic players, I do not want anything to do with you. I would like you to do the right thing so please do not give me your corporate spiel or your hamper. So if you feel the same way as i do, write to Maria and tell them. You can also join the facebook group "jason akermanis slept with me" to show your support.

2010-05-20T22:21:00.001+10:00

it was love at first sight on abc1 during the 7pm news segment when i spot bear grylls. i've been living in a cave since i can't be arsed bothered about tv [other than the 7.30 report and glee] and i've missed my new man crush eating gory shit and sprinting through jungles all this time. now that is a man. pity he's married with three kids and in love in jebus. look at that naturally athletic body, gorgeous eyes and the sound of his voice. you can save me anytime from my urban jungle bear. i'd love you even more if you throw a couple of punches on that akerman fellow for my community.

2010-05-10T20:41:00.001+10:00

many things disturb me about life.

like why sunday papers are weighed down with glossy junk catalogues which have the same intellectual value as the news you read in them. or why shops line the milk that's about to expire in front when everyone reaches for the back to take a bottle that has a couple more days of shelf life.

but what disturbs me most is how australia has quietly been creeping into a dark, conservative age where we allow successive governments to weigh in on debates about issues or make decisions for the country in the interest of the public when they clearly hurl us in the stone ages.

from deeming bill henson's art to being inappropriate to the teaching of religion versus ethics in schools, surely we are bright enough to decide what is good/bad or right/wrong. but nothing irks me more than the ongoing debate about internet filtering because it borders on censorship and curbing the freedom of speech and the right of the individual.

but are these decisions or debates a reflection of the pulse of our society or are we merely just sinking deeper and deeper into a nanny state. i would dread to think we are in either direction. one of the takeaways from a trendbriefing i attended a couple of months back was the trend that the world/society was going to become increasingly conservative and what was right for the common good would stand above the right/needs of an individual.

perhaps its a prophecy come true because as i look back and ahead and this is exactly where we're heading right now.

have we become more insular or conservative because of our fears of what lies ahead in life? lulled into the lullaby of our nanny states that tell us what's good for us? is it better to tread in safe waters indeed?

maybe for once we should demand that the news on sunday be weightier than the glossy catalogues that come with it. or that supermarkets should put milk that has a longer shelf life in front.

the battle looms.

2010-05-05T20:10:00.000+10:00

i wish i could buy a GPS for life. it'll operate the same way a GPS does and give you warnings like a GPS would -- "speed camera ahead" or "you are now approaching a school zone. slow down". except my life GPS would have messages life like "last drink for now before you start spewing your guts out" or "asshole about to enter your life. beware".

that would have been really valuable because it would have flagged me to all the dangers that have been colliding in my universe for the last couple of weeks. from client demands and dramas to the personal lows of dealing with a family crisis that has spun beyond my control. the only control i had on most days have been waking up in the morning to pick something nice to wear and trying to smile when things went downhill.

while in a cab today trying not to feel defeated, the GPS fires off these commands and all i can think about is - what will i wear tomorrow?

2010-04-27T20:14:00.001+10:00

homewrecker: someone who sleeps with another and knows that other has a boyfriend/girlfriend and doesn't give a shit. Thus, risking to wreck the relationship.

- urban dictionary

men are not to be trusted.

never leave your husbands, boyfriends or partners alone for a moment anywhere because that brief moment of freedom could very well redefine your relationship.

Unless of course you have a very healthy and open relationship.

I’ve been homewrecking bait many times in my life. Probably my easygoing attitude and ability to hold a slutty conversation increases with the number of alcoholic beverages consumed. But deep down inside, I detest the idea of being the wedge in someone’s perfect relationship. So I have a massive guilt complex when coupled men [of whatever persuasions] hit on me; even though I love the attention.

I confessed my guilt to a colleague during drinks [I am fairly liberal after a few glasses of wine] and she piques in and says ‘you should never feel guilty about such things because they are the ones who make the decisions. Its nothing to do with you.’

Case closed. Years of catholic guilt wiped from my values system.

You’d probably be wondering why I have no interest in dating eligible men who are single. Fuck those. Have you seen the state of singlehood in this city recently? Its like trying to pick a matching outfit in salvos. Nothing ever fits. But when it comes to the happily coupled couples you see in pairs on the street, at the gym or at cafes, I love entertaining the wandering eye of a partner. My mind speaks, I bet I know what’s going through your mind right now and if you are caught staring at me, you’d be in trouble now. Just keep doing it tiger.

Being a piece of homewrecking bait has proven time and time again that what isn’t yours is better. He’s been trialled and tested. Should be good for rehoming.

I had a little laugh with j who is now dating a married man. We pause for a moment and track back through the history of some of our nearest and dearest in our circle of friends and VOILA, we are/have been homewrecking bait at some point in our lives. Whether it involves married men with children, couples or men about to be married, we’ve all been that valve of intervention that draws danger close enough but our sensibility strikes and we push away.

Is it our values kicking in or simply a case of things getting too close for comfort?

There is a scene in glee [season one] that sums it up perfectly where the cheerleaders in the chastity club break into a chant ‘there’s only teasing, but there’s no pleasing’.

Priceless.

And they've actually made a facebook group for men like me. oh my god.

2010-04-05T00:00:00.009+10:00

I had written a post about my trip to NY previously and took it down because it didn’t reflect the soul of my experience. So here is an abridged version.

Large cities attract lots of people coming to live out their hopes and dreams. I hear passionate stories of cab drivers in Sydney who relocate here in search of a better life, sometimes separated from their families in hope of a better future.

New york is pretty much the same where you meet struggling models/actors/bartenders working at restaurants/bars/cafes or struggling actors memorising scripts by the Hudson River at dusk. Its like life on Avenue Q where all the characters are on their way to something big and better. Over supper at the breslin, a struggling male model from LA tells his waiter friend about the casting call he has tomorrow and thanks him for letting him crash on his couch. My very destroyed but very hot massage therapist was a landscape designer before he moved to NY as there wasn’t any work ‘since the economy went to the toilet’ and the Joneses’ couldn’t afford to have their turfs designed. Between being a personal trainer and therapist, he’s scored himself a nice man and now lives in a sandstone house in the village. But when things get better, he’ll probably move back to SF since he misses the city. Even go-go dancers have dreams because Chase, my man crush gay pocket rocket dances on the podium at two different venues in a pair of silver high tops with wings. Even dancers want to fly.

Big cities are basins for dreamers. It’s a gathering of a collective conscience of beings on a journey to something better. Places like the High Line that illustrate this. What would have been torn down because it was just a disused industrial train track is now a beautiful free public space saved by a collective of concerned individuals. Million dollar views from a public space for anyone to breathe and dream.

So if you are holidaying in the US, dollar bills are prized commodities because it keeps bartenders, go-go boys and waiters going on their journey to somewhere bigger and better in life.

If you are heading to NY:

Stay: Bryant Park Hotel and The Standard

Eat: Momofuku ko, Brasserie Ruhlmann, Morimoto, Breslin at Ace, the Standard Grill and Shake Shack

Club: Rockit at amalia, Club 57 at providence and Cuckoo club at the hiro ballroom

Shop endlessly down Fifth Avenue.

And don’t forget to tip Chase.

2010-03-28T21:48:00.002+11:00

the great dark man is not the solution to your problem, he could be the cause of it.

- quentin crisp

2010-03-24T21:22:00.000+11:00

do you remember any songs you heard when you were seven? fortunately disco was chic when i was seven and my earliest memories of music were songs from the movie grease. i remember listening to them on a chunky radio and singing into a hairbrush. how gay. and then came saturday night fever, the village people, diana ross.... gay overload.

just when i thought i've erased everything from the 70s with the abusive life that i've lived, another group pops back into my memory cells while i was sulking over my breakfast at kantine feeling sorry about my sickly state. it was after the love has gone by earth, wind and fire. except i can't remember if i was singing into a hairbrush or slow dancing on my own in front of the dresser mirror when i heard this.

tell me about your magical childhood musical moments. i might lap dance for you.

now on rotation on my ipod:

that's the way of the world
september
fantasy
after the love has gone
let's groove
boogie wonderland

2010-03-22T20:38:00.001+11:00

i've found something that is much more difficult than me in this life and that is making a reservation at momofuku ko. you could call tetsuya's in sydney and expect a three or more week waiting period for a table and a firm no if they can't take you in. you could do pretty much the same for any good restaurant in sydney. but in new york, they've taken chi chi-ness to the next level with momofuku.

you get a lesson on how to make reservations with them online for any of their restaurants. after this, you register online and get a password to allow you to make reservations. you would also need to make reservations for signature dishes. but the dining experience isn't yours [yet] until ever tuesday at 10am new york time precisely because that is when the online reservation system is open for bookings for that week. and then you join the mad rush with others going online to make a reservation.

i'm somewhat frustrated because i'm always good at wanting things i can't have and momofuku ko is the bane of my life at the moment.

part of me rejects this game and i'm settled to dine at many other wonderful restaurants that won't treat me like an imbecile even before i step through their door. the other part of me feels as if i might miss out on something wonderful and delightful if i didn't stay up till 1am to go online and give this a shot.

you stupid fucking fuzzy peach [son of a peach] which is what the name translates to. i hate you. in the meantime, i'm toggling all these other options which are pretty amazing but feel second rate in my head.

nine more sleeps. nuff said.

2010-03-16T19:49:00.000+11:00

dear cleo, i think you've got this bachelor of the year thing so wrong. any red blooded woman or gay man would want a selection of sportsmen, bad boys and tattoo sleeved tugs instead of your choice of "foodies, musos and creative men".

who cares about masterchefs and rob mills? oh my god, give me a horde of bad ass men on your cover anytime. if i wanted sensitive new age men, we'd be hanging out with gay men instead. we want to look at the men you pick and go OH YEAH YOU ARE A HOT PIECE OF MEAT not ooh, i wonder if he'd swop his croquembouche secrets with me or if that boy is the shy and sensitive type. i'm sure if you poll us about our expectations of what constitutes a good bachelor of the year, the answers would be he:

1. has a really hot body
2. looks fantastic by your arm
3. invokes a deep sense of envy/jealousy when seen together with you
4. turns flocks of red blooded women or gay men into stalkers around them

i hope you get the drift. you're being a bit childish excluding NRL players deliberately. that reduces the credibility of your selection by 90 percent.

take a cue from men's health or RSVP's hottest tradies. we want men like that to be in bachelor of the year competitions. not new age kitchen loving singing boys that already surround our lives everyday.

boring.

2010-03-14T10:38:00.001+11:00

Blogspot's finally supported with an iPhone app. Ace!

Location:Goulburn St,Surry Hills,Australia

2010-03-11T20:50:00.001+11:00

38/9/19 are the numerical representations of what's currently in my life.

i'm still alive which is a good thing because i'm about 266 now [i used a multiplier of seven since dogs are man's best friends]. nine days later, i am still nursing a dreadful cold from mardi gras [like all my fellow gays] which i am quite confident i'll get rid of -- because in 19 sleeps, i'll be on a plane to new york.

after weeks of trawling and planning in my head, i've made a collage of the things that will excite me on this trip. its a little snapshoy of places i'll sleep, eat, visit, buy, see and play. its been quite a few years since i've been there but i have so many fond memories of that city. this is one place i'd gladly uproot for. NY is a bit of everything i like about large cities - chaos, creativity, sexiness, playfulness and vibrance.

you can tell me more about your favourite places in new york. i'll add it on my list!

2010-03-08T18:41:00.002+11:00

1/ runway+despair+love+beauty=the single man. i was awe struck by the cinematography because visuals attract me so muted colours, grain shots and the use of mono in some scenes just drew me deeper and deeper into the film. tom ford is a star because he's taken a story about love lost and not being able to move ahead to see happiness right in front of you and drained the subtext out of it. when Colin Firth eventually finds out that Nicholas Hoult has fallen for him, its at that moment where he sees the future but dies of a heart attack. i was reeling with wtf in my head at the end. it was heart wrenching. i felt tears in my eyes. it made so much sense today when i reread tom's interview about his interpretation of the story:

It's really a book about learning to live in the present. Our culture is always about living in the future. If i get this new house, I'm going to be happy. If get this new job, i'm going to be happy. if i get this new boyfriend, i'm going to be happy. if i get these new shoes, i'm going to be happy... Today doesn't even exist. So before you know it, all your today's are gone and your life is over.

- tom ford

i heart you tom. no need to read eckhart tolle's power of now anymore. just watch the film you lazy bitches.

2/ the taxi driver asked if we were heading to a funeral when i jumped into a cab with almira after a client meeting. he said we were both dressed in black and that was when we looked at each other and laughed. no, we're in PR. everyone wears black. its not something they teach you at uni or when you work in the industry, but 70-80% of a good PR person's work wardrobe would be black. maybe its because it allows us to blend into the background when we run events or the blood stains won't show when we are brutally axed by clients or journalists if things fall outside our sphere of control. so once in a while, my industry types read blunders like this and have a massive belly laugh. mumbrella, that really made my day!

3/ mardi gras has been pretty good this year with the unusually kind weather and condensed program. my suspicions that this year's error was just a trial to make things official and the reality is, we'll have it all over a week - party and parade - next year. that's what happens when the government dips into their wallet to fund your event, i'm sure it comes with strings attached.

this is the least of my gripe, its the police presence and sniffer dogs at parties which i abhor. honestly, for all the taxpayer resources you've spent, you've only caught ONE dealer at a party and issued 50 notices for possession in small amounts at the party?

2010-03-03T16:54:00.000+11:00

I’ve woken up after a long sleep today after being succumbed inactive by a virus. Even steely, heartless creatures like me get weak. I’ve been feeling a sense of restlessness stirring in me and its not from the onslaught of mardi gras. Its that poke I get sometimes asking me if my life is heading in the right direction.

The loyal few who read my blog will remember my sabbatical just over two years ago when I took a year off to complete my masters and then a considered attempt to be reborn in my field of study. Only to realise it would hardly pay the bills and I would be scrummaging through supermarket disposal bins to feed myself. It was as if god had a invisible hand in my decision to return to my career in spin because with the GFC, the environment has fallen apart.

Fast forward to 2010, I’m about to celebrate my eighth anniversary of moving to Sydney, arriving on the 8th which coincides closely with my turning 38. The number eight has different connotations in culture and religion – eight brings luck and prosperity in the chinese culture. In Christianity, it signifies a new beginning or grace.

Being Piscean I contemplate long and hard about life changing decisions and the journey has begun in my mind about where this year is going to take me.

Putting the corporate cape and armoury away at night, I hope I'm not be the only person on earth thinking:

If I could do something different tomorrow, what would it be?

If I could be somewhere different tomorrow, where would it be?

If I could be someone different tomorrow, who would I be?

Is it possible to have a close to forty crisis in life where you are thinking about that huge step and feel held back with the comfort of what you’ve accumulated and become accustomed to in life?

Change is calling.

2010-02-28T12:35:00.000+11:00

the aftermath of mardi gras can be a solemn affair. at least that's the feeling i had when i woke up this morning not remembering how i had got to bed in the first place. i can only blame the last shot of absinthe with peter. evil. but calm has now been restored after lots of fluid and a valium.

2010-02-17T22:07:00.001+11:00

the talent my birth country produces simply amazes me sometimes. we've been known to produce brilliant doctors, lawyers, architects and stuff in this calibre but i was delighted by a story that singapore born chelsey mikimoto has been crowned miss transexual australia 2010.

for a country where gay sex is still illegal and everything else is ruled with a brush of family values and conservatism, i'd like to see a story about chelsey that is truly worth celebrating published in a singapore media outlet. its probably more likely that i'll be gang raped by a pack of footy players dead than if chelsey's story were to make it to press.

so i'd like to toast chelsey for making news about my birth country. her win makes better headlines than some of these stories you'll read in the singapore media [shudder]:

Free milk for 1,000 kids

http://www.straitstimes.com/BreakingNews/Singapore/Story/STIStory_491253.html

Ex-TV actor flip-flops in court

http://www.straitstimes.com/BreakingNews/Singapore/Story/STIStory_488757.html

Are these T-shirts offensive?

http://www.straitstimes.com/BreakingNews/Singapore/Story/STIStory_488895.html

We saved a tree!

http://www.straitstimes.com/BreakingNews/Singapore/Story/STIStory_489038.html

you go girl!

2010-02-11T21:13:00.002+11:00

Cougar Barbie - 50th Anniversary - Watch more Funny Videos

Cougar: a commonly-accepted definition of a cougar is a woman 40 years of age or older who exclusively pursues very young men. A ten-year age difference seems to be an unspoken but accepted minimum between partners. Typically, cougars prey upon men almost young enough to be their sons. Thus fortysomething cougars would be attracted to men in their 20s, and fiftysomething cougars would pursue men in their 30s and so on.

someone i knew once commented i only dated jailbait. i wasn't offended but had to correct him because i would look at jailbait but would not settle with them. as you slide closer to 4-0, every eligible/dateable man around you suddenly becomes younger. and the mere ogle/man crush you have on a younger man becomes a slippery slope downhill into troll-dom. i watched fame on sunday and thought, gee asher book is quite hot. only to find out that he's just turned 21. i've officially become a troll.

let's face it, its hard to look at men my age. gay boys have spent their entire lives abusing themselves so they start losing their looks fairly quickly. and because we are gay and shallow, looks count for everything. which leaves us wanting boys we can't really have.

the cruel bit comes as i close in on 4-0 [in two years] is the men in my bracket are attracted to boys in their 20s. so they cast their eyes on me like they've seen a piece of dead horse and look elsewhere. because every gay man hears that clock ticking and becomes overwhelmed by their fears -- trying to make the most of what we can or have. while it lasts. which is why we nervously laugh at places like stonewall or the midnight shift. because deep down inside, we just might see ourselves there one day.

mattel probably didn't expect these cruel spoofs on barbie when she turned 50 this year. her dress and style [and body shape] may have changed over 50 years but she's never changed beyond that.

if barbie the doll could think and speak, she'll probably tell you she has pretty much been the same after all these years. its just that everyone around her has changed and looked at her age from a different angle.

2010-02-09T21:55:00.000+11:00

i hate mardi gras because my quiet mornings working out at ff darlo are being overrun by people desperate to look fit for mardi gras. 6am starts at darlo are sacred. its always the faithful few who climb out of bed at an ungodly hour to trudge to the gym. you know who they are by face, routine or attire. autumn, winter or spring, you have dragged your sleep depraved carcass out from bed and endured that shameful shuffle up the stairs. bleary eyed to a jolt of flourescent lighting for your 0600 workout. you, the faithful few.

having skipped out for two weeks, i'm suddenly confronted by a full house of day trippers accompanied by their entourage of personal trainers. really people, if you've missed out on gym the entire holiday and you've been stuffing your face without exercise, i have two words for you.

too late.

i updated my grievance on facebook and got an interesting trial of comments from friends. yes, its a little harsh to call out the fat boys and say its too late. statistically, i think you'll have to starve to get in shape for mardi gras by now.

while two of my friends who work out in the evenings say they are surrounded by DNA models, i had the beaching of whales and muffin tops around me. there are only two possible outcomes in this scenario. one of them would include a visit from the sea shepherd.

my niceness will resume shortly. please standby.

2010-02-07T17:00:00.002+11:00

1/ i'm sitting on the floor covered in sweat. andrew thinks i've done alright since i've finished three rounds in under twenty minutes. i feel as if i'm about to die. welcome to my world of crossfit. some people think crossfit is a cult but i see it as a caveman workout because you are trying to beat time while maintaining your form. i watched girls in my class box jump, do a 400 metre run and throw a medicine ball for five rounds and all i can think is i won't be able to do that soon. andrew says crossfit is not about getting massive and that's my mantra this year. i want to be athletic because i see those boys doing crossfit and that's the body i want for me. muy caliente.

2/ 51 days to new york. the clubbing choices are narrowing down like broadway/off broadway plays on my list and where i'd like to stay. its not about the quantity but the quality of things i'd like to do. the experience rather than volume. i'm pretty excited to be seeing kyle and and aussie grubs while i'm there. fucking ace.

3/ its not even mardi gras yet but the gay squad has descended on oxford st. i see the trickle of tourists already. you can tell. all bright eyed and excited. honestly, you are the attraction. not mardi gras.

2010-02-01T19:51:00.001+11:00

1/ i have a twin. my laundry lady who recognises me so well and picks up my clothes from the racks full of ironed shirts without the need for my ticket any day surprises me.

your partner has picked your clothes up....
what? i don't have a partner.
oh, you look so much like him.
rummages.... sorry, this is yours.

she's been ironing my shirts weekly for a year and a half now and has probably developed an intimate knowledge of my colour palette that sways between different shades of black, white and the very occasional bright colour. for that split second, i think [a] someone has laid claim on some of my favourite shirts [b] a boy out there dresses in the same colour palette as me [c] that boy is very fortunate because he has a trained husband that picks up his laundry and probably makes him dinner as well. i try not to let deep seated envy consume me.

2/ you don't scare me anymore. yes, you. you snarly man who barked commands down the phone demanding i arrange access to my client for comment at 3:48pm before the close of play. and go on to tell me that if they aren't available, that i should give him their numbers so you can call them yourself. yes, you. you continue to be cagey and vague when i try to understand what you are after.

yes, you. you probably don't remember me when i said its been a long time since we spoke. you probably can't remember that you terrified me once in the same snarly way about eight years ago, threatening to break an embargo on my story because you were demanding access to my client before anyone else got to break the news.

but because of you, i've learnt to be a little stronger and harder. i still play nice and i'm always polite. but i'm now a little older and a little wiser. and i've learnt to say no to people like you, not because you can't have your way, but because i won't allow you to treat my clients badly.

you can snarl till the cows come home, hang up on me and try to threaten me. but i'm not afraid anymore.

3/ tara sends me a link to an opinion piece on global warming and climate sceptics asking what i thought about it. i reread it tonight and fear that the climate sceptics are starting to win the battle in the current agenda. in the face of unverifiable IPCC data, idiots like lord monckton who are given a wide platform to tell their lies and politicians who are trying to save their failing economies and kowtow to industry associations. sometimes i wonder why i care because its all too late. nero fiddled while rome burned.

2010-01-30T04:44:00.004+11:00

overachiever on the wrong side of thirty seeks mr second best for a hopefully fulfilling relationship.

that would be the opening line in my personals ad if i took to the beliefs of lori gottlieb whose recent book in summary espouses the theory that singletons past the age of 30 shouldn't be holding out for the one but instead settle for mr second best.

i posted that article on my facebook status update and it resulted in a exchange of opinions of varying degrees from my friends, who are singletons past 30 like me. between joking about what a desperate spinster smells like to rather being alone than settling for second best, fleur pikes in with a comment that somewhat kicks my reality blocks a little:

aren't we all second-best when it comes down to it? Isn't it just a plea for realism?

i jokingly replied i thought it was a little harsh -- because i never thought about myself as being second best. who would ever think about yourself that way? and then you look around you and see all those settled down couples and single you and i go oh yeah, what's left behind is second best.

its like dance parties or bars in the wee hours of the morning when you see the last boys who are circling around on the dance floor on their own with that slight puppy dog look that says take me home and fuck me. or those little green buttons beside pictures of not so attractive boys on grindr [they should make them red buttons as you'd tag things in a fire sale].

i am second best because i'm left behind in this race to be complete.

i now publicly declare that i swell with envy at the sight of perfectly good looking gay couples. and that commitment ceremonies or engagements drive me jealously insane. or being in conversations where couples finish each others sentences makes me want to bash my head repeatedly on a hard surface.

because its not me.

instead of licking my sorry wounds and racking myself in the damaged goods aisle, i sing destiny's child independent woman:

The shoes on my feet
I've bought it
The clothes I'm wearing
I've bought it
The rock I'm rockin'
I've bought it
'Cause I depend on me
If I wanted the watch you're wearin'
I'll buy it
The house I live in
I've bought it
The car I'm driving
I've bought it
I depend on me

i click my imaginary heels and go, life isn't bad being second best. lori gottlieb screw you.

2010-01-24T20:46:00.000+11:00

while i'm not solving the mysteries of the universe, i spend my time in conversations trying to untangle the complexities in other people's love lives. not literally, but in a questioning approach that would ask them to examine the reasons why they value a relationship they are in. some relationships are edging past their shelf lives and some point to the danger of things falling apart if no one recognises the 'signs'.

over dinner this weekend, wearing my wine goggles, i declared to the poor gentlemen beside me that he'll need to put a time limit on his long distance relationship because everyone needs to work to an end point or milestone to be in the same country. or else things might just fall apart. i hope he hasn't taken what i've said seriously because looking back, i feel like i've rattled a doomsday prophecy because i had used my personal experience yardsticks on these situations to define an outcome on someone else's relationship. bad.

some people have told me that i give very good insights into relationships. i shouldn't be allowed to dispense advice since the train wrecks from the few relationships i've had would be equivalent to letting an unreformed alcoholic and convicted drink driver back on the road.

which is why weddings, engagements and public declarations of love often reset my perspective ever so slightly. or watching movies like the proposal or mocumentaries like paper heart, makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

and then my hardened heart melts a little and my head says "sometimes, maybe".

2010-01-19T22:26:00.000+11:00

i feel like a cougar tonight.

i'm having work drinks at a bar along gay street and i get the same waiter as i did on my last visit. this very chatty boy who is somewhat cute, young and yummy. on my last visit, he was yapping about how tired he was because he was up all night chatting with this gorgeous girl. tonight it was about how tired he was because he was at the gym doing these impossibly difficult exercises.

my cougar instincts tell me i want to pick him up, stroke him and say very loudly, like you do to animals and young children:

you poor baby, it must be hard trying to work tonight when all you want to do is sleep. here is $20, go buy yourself a really strong coffee or illicit substances to keep yourself awake.

and take him back to my room and imprison him for my pleasure.

or on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, i want to lock him in the men's room so he can grovel for the rest of the night about the state he's in and spare the others from his yapping.

i really like this story about the air new zealand advertisement about cougars. they are making fun of me.

2010-01-17T22:10:00.001+11:00

while lying naked on the massage table, jeff my therapist with those magic hands i would like to marry asked if i had any resolutions for the new year.

nope, i said.

i didn't get to finish my sentence because i was starting to float into another state of consciousness while being unknotted. what i would have really liked to say is,

i have trouble dealing with resolutions because so often we set them in life only to finish another year feeling disappointed we never did anything about them.

i've read enough articles over the last couple of weeks to validate that resolutions fail because people have grandeur illusions about them. i haven't been to my gym recently [not because i've been lazy but because i'm getting killed by crossfit], but i am absolutely sure all the personal trainers are working their arses off with the influx of fat new clients who have resolved to lose weight. i am also somewhat certain, alcohol sales at bottle shops have dived because people have resolved to drink less. and the sales for lite and easy/fad diets etc. have skyrocketed because people want to lose weight.

it would be nice to have statistical evidence that a new year brings about significant changes to many peoples lives -- primarily driven by resolutions. like more people are going to church on sundays to be closer to god or the use of online dating sites have increased because singles are hell bent on not spending another christmas/new year alone. or more people have appointments to see their cosmetic surgeons at the beginning of the year because they resolve to look better as age starts to ruin.

i joked with tim in an email that i won't be able to use my looks any longer to get what i want since i'm getting closer to being a dinosaur this year. in case you are wondering, that's an age bracket that displays on manhunt/gaydar/gay.com with a walking stick icon beside it.

so a resolution milestone i'll set for this year is to start investigating options to stay young like:

1. maintain a better diet [possible]
2. eat in places with dim lighting [achievable]
3. wear items that i've bought that i've cast in the deep annals of my wardrobe in fear of mutton [done]
4. date younger men [needs some thought]
5. actively discuss cosmetic surgery with like minded friends but refuse to bend [quite often]

tell me about your milestones when i see you next magic.

2010-01-13T20:43:00.000+11:00

its hard to pay for the company of gentlemen. but sometimes its the only way to get yourself across the line. tonight was the second time i dialled his number on my phone. i was nervous when it went to voicemail. is he going to leave me stranded? i hate the thought that i'd have to find another. i get a call back shortly and he promises to get here as soon as he can.

an hour.

can't you be here any sooner.

i'll try my best.

i watch the skies turn grey and play with my iphone. i hope he gets here soon. i want to get it over and done with. the clouds of shame hang over me turning darker as the night goes by.

why do i let myself down? its days like this i feel the curse of singlehood staring back at my life. you could have had a better life gabriel. you deserve much better than this.

he meets me at the door and my heart sinks slightly. i could have done better. but its not the time to judge. all i can think about is let's just get it over and done with. i really need a drink to erase the shame you're about to put me through.

what would the neighbours think? he starts to speak in the corridor and all i could think about was:

can you keep it down, i don't want them to think i'm that type of boy

he gets on his knees and works on my knob eagerly. i mock that look of displeasure which i do so well. i look disinterested. all i could think about was the last time was much better. he's obviously lost it. this time seems like forever. if only i knew. if only i thought ahead. there's nothing worse than resorting to trade. i feel demeaned. i hate myself.

he goes deeper. it gets louder. and finally i can tell he's done.

how would you like to pay for it? cash? card?

i say to myself, do i look like a crack whore with a money lined mattress?

card

you'll have to come down with me. the machine's in my car.

the rain is pouring when we reach ground. he beckons me to the back seat and i hand him my card. i look around and its a mess. slob. just what i expected. thank god i don't have to do this in your apartment. the very thought makes me violently ill. he hands me the receipt.

i can come by tomorrow night if you like. the outcall will be much less since i came by tonight.

why not i think. i've already been fucked over when i agreed to $130 on the phone.

sure. i'll call you tomorrow.

i get out of his car and feel the spring in my step as i walk back to my apartment.

freedom at last. if only for tonight. but wait till tomorrow.

P.S.: i suggest you get your mind out of the gutter. that was my locksmith because i've lost my keys again. in between getting sushi and being distracted by the rain, i don't know where they've gone. coincidentally, i have spares and coincidentally, this time again, they are back in my apartment because i've forgotten to hand them to friends. i hope this made you laugh.

2010-01-10T13:20:00.000+11:00

and if i were

the king of rome

i couldn't be more lonely

with so much scope

to dream and hope

someday you'll deign to phone me

king of rome/pet shop boys

1/ nick who makes my gorgeous house plants at blossom gardens nursery spins a little yarn about our wasteful consumption lifestyles. i never knew it would take 10 years to grow a decent sized christmas tree that we'd harvest and tinsel for a month before we dump it unceremoniously after the season. it breaks my heart a little that our desire for gratification for a festive season comes at such a price. lovely nick also explains that its alright to send 10 roses to tell someone you are perfect during valentines day. and in the same breath, tells me why he'd never be in the florist trade. i can't wait to see my waterford apothecary jar wedged with a native succulent in white gravel.

2/ new york is proving hard to plan. i'm torn between settling for accessible business/touristy midtown accommodation or an architectural treat like the standard. the quest between the view i'd wake up to in the morning or where i can walk to in five minutes. tough decision.

3/ the mysteries of the universe revealed on twitter by kerry degman:

1st) I'm actually not 5'7 I'm 5'11.5
2nd) no I don't take steroids
3rd) no I'm not anorexic, I'll out eat any of u;)
3rd) yes I'm straight
4th) I do believe in God

how could you not love him? answer me.

2010-01-05T22:14:00.000+11:00

1/ i'll be descending on the big apple in 85 days for an overdue revisit. clicking the confirm button for a flight brought back many memories of the place - bagels, abercrombie+fitch, guggenheim and fit shirtless boys jogging in central park - and made me really happy. i missed out on the bars [my ex who was into monogamy wiped that off the list] so i'm going to make up for it by sampling scenes boys like this. but otherwise, i'll be refuelling my cultural vessel with MoMA, guggenheim, neue galerie, broadway/ off broadway and suitable retail therapy. away from sydney, this is one city i'd love to live.
2/ one of my goals this year is to bring my fitness to the next level. in a quest to be beautiful [like any self-respecting gay boy with body image issues], we run/pump/box every week so we can peel off our shirts on a dance floor with a little pride. i've been researching crossfit and will take the plunge and break out of the gym training routine for a bit. i'd like to be able to do this at some point, failing which, i'll be doing a pukie in the corner.

3/ in case you read me off an rss feed, you would have missed the fact that this site has now been enhanced with a larger font and a twitter feed. so if you get cold turkey between posts, you can follow my banal life on twitter. and please let me stalk you back.

2010-01-01T09:25:00.004+11:00

one of the lessons i've taken into the new year is that you should never do a couple of absolut 100 proof shots before leaving home for drinks. so while my liver has finally recovered yesterday, i don't know how my reputation may have been ruined at stonewall. i have no recollection of the night in anyway, except i stumbled home safely.

while friends were perched on balconies, fronting tvs, bars or dance floors celebrating the arrival of 2010, i spent the evening looking forward researching a list of itineraries for real holidays and things i'd like to do. i wake up this morning feeling quite comforted that i've made some decisions about life and have some milestones in place.

2009 was a little like the night at stonewall fuelled with 100 proof shots where everything in my memory is a blur. it happened too fast too soon and before i knew it, it was all over. i've had some exceptional wins which i'll remember and some things i'd rather much forget like waking up with a hangover from 100 proof shots. instead of setting a laundry list of resolutions, i'm starting small with a list of to do's that should fit on a post-it note, knowing i can start another sheet when its all been crossed off.

2009-12-27T21:01:00.006+11:00

[1] i wanted my christmas to be surrounded by nothing more than beautiful things. and the visit to mca to see olafur eliasson's take your time exhibition was a perfect gift wrapped present for the dreary christmas weather in sydney. while most of sydney were fighting hand in foot to get some made in china thing during the post-christmas sales, this was the best $15 i spent today for an immersive art experience which let me define what i wanted it to be. eliasson is a genius. i was lost in some of the installations like the 360 degrees room for all colours which surrounds you in an aura of changing colours, sunset kaleidoscope which playfully tricks you with a full view kaleidoscope with the opera house as a backdrop and beauty which leaves you in a dark room projecting changing light patterns like the aurora borealis over a mist of water.

[2] i accomplished my christmas goal of keeping civic video alive by having a stream of really good DVDs by my side while my fur children stayed. clive owen in bent was powerful. the ugly truth was quite awful but i would like to confess my love for eric winter. i have never seen eric before because he's had all these crap TV roles [okay minus the fact that he's in a commercial with britney] and he's checked all the boxes on my eye candy list a. an amazing smile b. glimmer in the eye c. bloody awesome body. i would have really liked to watch this in a cinema because i'm sure i would have heard a uniform gasps from all the women and gay men the moment he removed his shirt. we'd have beautiful children together. sigh.

[3] its official. my fur children are terrorists. while they've been much calmer and controlled having lived with my ex, i've done my best trying to avoid confrontational situations involving other dogs. feeling a little brave today, i take them out to meet drew and luce at the park. i wished i had half a valium before going down because i think it would have helped me cope with the passive/aggressive barking that went on like forever. luce was amazing. did not even flinch through it all. and to that skinny asian boy with long hair who kept giving me dirty looks when his ugly schnauzer came over and tried to play, which resulted in my fur children becoming more passive/aggressive - SCREW YOU. at least god is fair, your boyfriend is just as ugly, like your dog.

2009-12-21T07:05:00.005+11:00

i think i remember why i left sydney for the last two christmases. its like a plague has hit the city and everyone has fled. perhaps safely in the confines of dj and myer, but the streets and my neighbourhood are deserted. i only started thinking about christmas a couple of weeks ago and fretted between staying and leaving. but the stress from last year's exodus was still etched firmly in my mind.

everyone says christmas is about family. but i'm starting to see things differently and i see christmas as the opportunity to redefine tradition. i've heard a fair share on snatchy remarks about parts of family reunions less than desired, the mounting cost of gifts, unappreciated spouses, friends who don't throw their weight etc. why does christmas have to turn into a play of needs and expectations?

i expect food on the table. i expect you to arrive at. i expect you to be nice. i expect you to remember what i wanted. i expect......

can we have a christmas with no expectations and yet still have a good holiday?

i have two christmas bashes with friends who have pretty much shaped things in an agenda free way. but otherwise, this christmas will be spent with my photo collage, fur children included.

P.S. My love to Tim and Nic. Have an awesome christmas.

2009-12-19T09:15:00.003+11:00

christmases in offices are fairly standard traditions - staff get togethers, client lunches and gift giving. since i've always liked mixing things up, i started the hot men pin up competition. which is entirely possible since its an all girl office [including me]. the rule was everyone had a week to pick a photo of a man whom they thought was hot and pin it on their board. we had a judging session on friday and that was when i realised that the girls had exceptional taste in men like me. ryan won.

2009-12-14T20:31:00.003+11:00

the thing about love is when you hand over your heart, you give the person you love great power over who you are, or who you will be

- does not play well with others

2009-12-13T10:58:00.006+11:00

1/ self service checkouts at supermarkets are the work of the devil. besides depriving the casual labour market of employment, there's nothing more annoying than having to weigh, pack and scan stuff. really, why do i need to search for desiree potatoes and tell the machine what its weighing. if they want to make technology smart, perhaps they could make scales that would detect the dna of items being put on them and price it accordingly. like if you really wanted to find out if your boyfriend is an arsehole, you'd stick his hand on the scale and the screen would read [arsehole $4.79/kg]. and what's with developing and implementing technology that allows customers to self-help but keeping a big brother view by tallying up the weight of items with items scanned to eliminate theft. if you trust your customers to pack and scan their own groceries, why not let them get away with a couple of freebies since you've eliminated all these cashiers and saved yourself lots of money.

2/ i've decided to face up to my christmas demons in sydney and not run away. for the last two christmases, i've been away to escape the desolate isolation of the festive season. while half the world reconciles with families, fighting busy airports and highways, i've recoiled from going away this year because i need to redefine my perception of what constitutes a festive christmas. the stress of putting meals on groaning tables, shovelling through shops for gifts and being kept awake at night going through lists of things not done -- the stress of expectations being heaped on you to make christmas happen. so instead of making guests lists and filling my fridge, i will be spending this season with very close friends over many drinks, fuss-free meals and live in a more reflective state to celebrate a year that is going out in style. while negotiations are going haywire at COP, spare a thought this christmas and think about redefining what it all means. the story of stuff is a brilliant reminder that we are squandering away our gifts.

3/ speaking of christmas presents, i received an awesome gift from suzy today. she's remixed 56 minutes of uplifting music on an AAC file that would put the most miserable scrooge in a party mood. thanks suze, you are the best!

2009-12-08T21:21:00.002+11:00

good cop, bad cop. the verdict is still open but as i anticipate, it will be a meeting filled with hope for resolution which amounts to another meeting to try to resolve what this meeting had set out to in the first place. sure its easy for developed countries to point to a treasure chest commitment to help developing countries but isn't it a smoke screen for all the excesses developed countries have lived in the first place?

i used to believe that the emissions trading scheme would in some ways help australia meet its environmental obligations. but this has now descended into a scrap pile at the pleasure of powerful industry lobbies. pockets lined to make political donations and hands stretched out to be handed free permits to keep their destructive exports online to support our economic needs. i was somehow delighted that the bill has been blocked because in its present form, it would have become an inadmissible burden to manage and would still not help australia meet its target for emissions reductions.

when the public debate that abbott [whom i dislike] challenged rudd to have was dismissed, i felt a terrible sense of injustice because abbott [whom i dislike] was right to point out that every australian needed to understand what was on the table and how it would impact their lives.

if you were informed about the consequences of climate change and its full impact of not doing anything, you would wisely insist that australia took a leadership role now. the simple equations that come to mind are:

job now or joblessness in the future
costly electricity bills now or brown/black outs in the future
rising temperatures now or extreme weather conditions in the future
increasing grocery prices now or starvation in the future
rising coastlines now or tides of refugees at the coastlines in the future
the chance to stop the clock now or never

make that choice today. good cop or bad cop?

2009-12-03T20:59:00.005+11:00

strata meeting: an extraordinary affair that brings together owners to discuss sometimes trivial matters that would have a significant material impact on the other occupants and owners who don't give a fuck about turning up

because i'm a concerned owner, i attend an extraordinary strata meeting on tuesday to decide on the colour they were going to repaint the building. nothing concerned me more than the right to exercise my vote against having that hideous baby blue that was on the list of colours.

so in a civil debate about the merits of the right colour during a meeting, mr colour pants declares the greys everyone has picked is too depressing and industrial. honestly, if you wanted to live in a building that had the colour scheme of toys-r-us, i'm sure there are many suburbs that would accommodate your colour of choice, mr colour pants.

i live in a building full of cold, unfriendly, inner city gays, frigid old heterosexual couples who have sex once a year and singles who want nothing more than be anonymous. so depressing and industrial colours are the only colours we want to reflect our inner personas. so we can continue to give each other fuck you looks in the lifts and ignore each other in the lift.

if you want to avoid sinking into the void of depression everyone else has in this building mr colour pants, i suggest you find another place to live where people have a sunnier disposition. maybe in queensland.

2009-11-29T14:16:00.003+11:00

stereotypes - how much do i hate thee?

while making a drink with another boy at a party, a vacuous white twink comes in to ask if he could have one. sure, its a party, we're happy to share. VWT proceeds to say gosh you two speak much better english than that asian boy i was chatting with out there. i didn't understand a word he was saying. i handed him his drink feeling a little insulted and wanting to say why thank you, i had plenty of time to learn english while i was in a boat on the way australia when i was a child. but because i'm a gracious guest, i leave the kitchen biting my tongue.

sam de brito wrote an excellent opinion piece in the herald two sundays ago about stereotypes and how we are choose to hold on to perceptions around race. he talks about his perception of asian baristas making bad coffee which i'm sure isn't true since the september issue of the sydney magazine had two asians amongst the five photographed in an article on the best baristas in sydney.

i hate being stereotyped.

just because i'm gay and asian, it doesn't mean:

- i speak bad english.
- i am a gold digging mail order bride looking for a sponsor.
- i work in retail and have to go to work on sunday.
- i like older white men.
- i only like asian men.
- i only go to the midnight shift.
- i intend to seduce/steal your boyfriend because there is a dire shortage of good rice queens in sydney.

we could spend our entire lives putting people in compartments but i wish i lived in a community which isn't hung up on stereotypes. we already have other battles to fight sometimes just being gay.

so if you have your stereotypical views about gay asian boys, let me dispel some of them. and i might be speaking for quite a few of you too:

- i've learnt and spoken english my entire life
- i moved to australia on a skilled independent visa with no sponsorship required
- i have a fabulous career and make decent money
- i like my men smart, successful and in good shape -- age and race are not pre-requisites but looks are [shoot me]
- you will never hold a good rice queen down because they are built to wander

breathe. think happy thoughts.

2009-11-23T21:39:00.004+11:00

1/ the buzz around new moon fascinates me. besides the fact its a twilight sequel and has crap reviews, everyone talks about it. but my only fascination with new moon lies with taylor lautner. how the hell did he get from reed thin to hunky bulky? maybe its a blessing to be 17yo - where all you need to do is eat every two hours and go to the gym five days a week to look like this. i like the little edward versus jacob camp that is playing out. honestly, jacob wins hands down. but what a girl in my office said is so true, its so wrong! i see photos of that boy and all i can think about is, i'd really like to put something in your mouth. but except you are only 17yo which puts me on the border of being...... and i'm not being a potty mouth, go watch the interview on youtube. growl. werewolves are hot.

2/ the boys at ksubi made me laugh. the tag on my new board shorts. how can you not buy this?

3/ please jesus, i know its only monday. but i'd like the week to be over please.

2009-11-22T07:51:00.000+11:00

That familiar feeling has come to visit again
But I remind myself its no longer the same
It’s the past I’ve left behind
And it’s the present I can no longer claim
So when the dark clouds cast shadows of doubt
I find the strength to be in control again
I might comes across as if I’m being wicked
Or that I’m being mean
But I just can’t put myself back in those feelings again

2009-11-19T20:49:00.003+11:00

dear libra

many things get stuffed in my mailbox everyday. bills, development applications, pizza menus etc. so i was quite surprised to find a sanitary napkin sample in my weekly collection of mail. if you've done a little more market research, you'll probably realise that i live in a gay neighbourhood filled with boys. i think they were just as surprised as me when they found your sample wrapped in plastic with a pamphlet touting your product range. i'm not sure how many more new customers you would have gained from this exercise. i've never needed a sanitary napkin and i don't intend to use one. i'm sure i speak for the other boys. we just don't really know what to do with those things. its a bit like stuffing safe sex packs in my hands when i leave a party. i don't have sex with strangers because i'm frigid so its a real waste of your resources. but if you were really resourceful and wanted to get my attention, you'd put things in my mailbox that i'd like to have. for example:

a round the world ticket with an unlimited credit limit on a card
some pharmaceutical drugs to help me relax and sleep at the end of my day
a handwritten note from kerry degman telling me he loves me and wants to marry me
a letter from the bank telling me my mortgage has been paid off

until then, you might want to fire those people who are wasting your marketing budget with this poor targeting.

2009-11-15T10:54:00.003+11:00

on an occasion as rare as a sighting of the virgin mary, i wandered to nevermind on saturday. it was an impromptu outing driven by the sunny saturday afternoon and too much wine over dinner. every gay person and his dog would probably have a story about why they don't go out as much as they used to.

other than the fact that i like cocooning and having friends over instead, its no secret the bar scene is in desperate need of a facelift. or that oxford st is decrepit. i'm expecting visitors from the US and i've been shuffling in embarrassment over taking them to a decent gay bar which doesn't make our gay scene look provincial. a place which isn't busting in the seams playing 80s and 90s, culturally or tribally skewed or has a floor that doesn't stick from all the spilled drinks. so i've been saved this coming weekend.

now if only someone would take care of all the skanky riff raff on oxford st, a night out would be much better again.

2009-11-11T21:05:00.003+11:00

dear labor party

i am sick and tired of this fence sitting. you are obviously not seriously about climate change and the ETS because if you were, you'd be holding a 2020 summit again to get the brightest and best to come together to discuss what is an equitable solution for the future generations. you would be involving every citizen in asking for their feedback on what they thought would be an agreeable target for emissions reduction. you would be telling every australian what is the environmental cost of doing nothing and how it will impact on their lives in the future. you would tell all those dirty extractive industries to suck eggs and invest in a clean tech economy.

instead you spend every waking moment looking at how you can grant concessions to industry and businesses who are going down the toilet for the horrible things they do to the environment. why are you hiding behind the "need to protect the australian economy" or that "you will act when the rest of the world will commit".

do you not have a price on the environment?

do you not understand the concept of leadership to drive change?

maybe if you sat in a train carriage baking in the sun on melbourne cup day on the harbour bridge, you'd have time to reflect and realise this could very well be the everyday scenario in australia with climate change in the future. that industry and businesses would grind to a halt because their workforce is stranded on a bus/train/road because the grid has broken from an overwhelming demand for electricity. or businesses would be sitting in the dark because data centres and telecommunication systems have shut down and australia is offline from the rest of the world for hours.

that little refugee standoff you are having in indonesia will hardly be an issue because we'd have tides of pacific refugees on the shores of australia because their islands have sunk under the rising tides because of global warming. or worry about whether china will continue to buy coal from us. because the answer is they've realised the problems developed economies are facing and would have evolved into clean energy and dumped coal. which is fine for us since we'd still be running those brown coal power plants that we can't compensate and we could probably use some.

its not too late to make a stand before copenhagen. its not too late to change.

2009-11-08T20:18:00.003+11:00

its 47 days to christmas and its hard to ignore that another year has escaped me. in the veil of a calm dark sky, i'm writing mental lists of things i'd like to resolve before the year is up. the resolve to declutter started last week when i finally unpacked two boxes i've never unpacked in my bedroom. its true what they say -- you probably don't need it if you haven't looked at it. and you wonder why you hang on to things in the first place. besides finding some precious photographs, the rest was pretty discardable.

but like all closet hoarders, i hang on to some things with the mental note that it might come in handy one day. its like all those phone numbers you find on your mobile phone of people you wouldn't even think about calling. or in some cases, don't even remember who they are. decluttering is a therapeutic and unnerving process at the same time. sometimes you wonder why you hold on to things that are hard to let go of. how the sight of something you once cherished, can be easily binned now.

decluttering has shifted from a physical to emotional place these two weeks. its like finding the secret store of courage to close off chapters and prioritise things to do.

its that border between freedom [knowing you can confidently declutter], silliness [wondering why you've held onto it] and being unfashionable [let this will never come back and even if it does, you won't use or wear it].

disclaimer: this isn't a picture of my apartment.

2009-11-03T20:27:00.005+11:00

you probably have memories of your favourite childhood toy even now. while i can't pin my finger down on the first toy in my childhood that i fell in love with - between a koala bear, garfield, lego and atari - my older fur child, sky does.

on my custodian weekend visit, i unpack the last toy platypus. since sky was a baby, she's had an obsession with a stuffed chew toy platypus. it squeaks when she bites into it and she spent her entire childhood sleeping with her platypus, holding it up by her tail and shaking it to death in her mouth to produce a squeaky sound. because it was her favourite toy, there were always spares stocked up from my visits to sydney prior to relocating here.

but some years ago, they stopped making them and there was one sad looking platypus remaining after my ex had custody of them. i continued to shop in vain in pet stores hoping it would surface in massive quantities but they stopped making such plain beige coloured toys. new platypuses were multi coloured, brown, skinny and non-squeaking. they would not have been the same for sky because of her obsession with having the EXACT SAME toy.

fortunately, pauline was shopping in the US once on a business trip and like all good pet owners do, you go to pet stores to buy treats and toys for the fur children you've left behind in your pursuit for career happiness. i am the delightful owner of the LAST EXACT SAME platypus which i've kept in mint condition.

i watch the look of recognition and delight on her face as she is reconciled with the platypus on sunday. the rest of the afternoon is reacquainted with that squeaking, tossing it up by the tail and shaking it to death in her mouth to produce a squeaky sound. even dogs are capable of childhood memories.

i've kept the platypus on monday for her next visit. my ex reminds me she's turned 10 this year and if we count dog years, i'd like to keep this one if its possible, so they can spend eternity together.

2009-10-28T20:37:00.002+11:00

dear tara

as your farewell present, i wanted to get you a book about relocating to another country to help you deal with a completely new environment. i read one of those when i was about to move to sydney. it was like a holy grail to me because it asked me to embrace my new surroundings and to go on long walks.

i thought it would be appropriate except i realised there are billions of people who relocate for love/life/work and really its nothing special. so instead of helping some self-confessed guru who has gotten allied pickford to pack their boxes and drop it off in another country make a living writing crappy advice about how you should live your life, i'm giving you my royalty-free life experience version of relocating.

#1 everywhere else is crap except home. you better believe it. you would be comparing life to the most minute detail when you move to another country. why can't this be better? why won't it do this? why can't i find this? before you know it, you will be isolating people you love with questions they can't or won't want to answer. because the reality is it'll never be better elsewhere.

#2 [insert name of your freight forwarder] is not your best friend. your belongings will never arrive on time as promised. you will see the things you love being carefully put away in bubble wrap and taped and you would look forward to reuniting with them soon. i'm sorry to disappoint. you will be living your life out of your suitcase and will wear the same clothes you brought with you for many more weeks after the expected date of arrival of your belongings. you will spend every morning harassing/yelling/abusing your freight forwarding company. whether its your agent, his boss or his assistant until they actually show up at your door with your stuff. and at that moment, you'd realise you never want to go anywhere else again. or you would save money to pay for excess baggage because you will never want to be separated from your belongings ever again.

#3 go for long walks and try to find yourself. besides helping to familiarise yourself with a new city, it beats staying at home waiting for the phone call that will never come from your freight forwarder. it sometimes helps you to find your way because you have no clue where you are in a new city. which adds to the frustration because the last thing you want to do is use a map or ask for directions. because you want to look like you are a local. and deep down inside, you want to feel you are in familiar surroundings. which don't look anywhere like home when its supposed to be.

#4 its alright to have a few or many drinks to help you settle down. and its perfectly acceptable at anytime of the day. especially after yelling at your freight forwarder or getting lost in your new city. or when its too early or late to call your friends to ask them why. identify the closest store that sells liquor or a nice quiet bar where you can a few to calm you down. a quiet venue would work well especially if its dark. so you can cry if you feel like it and no one will see and think you are the neighbourhood loony.

#5 distractions are good especially if it involves projecting anxieties or fears that will distract you from dealing with the harsh realities of life. i drank bottled water for six months because my ex and i were terrified that we might die from the unclean water that was flowing out from our dirty terrace house. so my distraction was finding places we could buy boxed or bottled water on special close to our home so we would never have to drink water from the tap. funny enough, i would brush my teeth with tap water.

#6 seek out your countrymen. find people who share the same birth country or culture with you so you can sit around and recount how splendid life is at home. the home you left. discuss how you can replicate meals you can't find, procure foods you would find from home or the places that you liked hanging out at home. then walk away feeling refreshed and strengthened and ready to abuse your freight forwarder because you are honestly sick of living out of a suitcase.

i could go on writing this entry but its best you experience this new life ahead on your own. because each journey is different and amazing. just don't let the freight forwarders hold you back from living your full potential.

2009-10-22T19:27:00.007+11:00

[1] generation gap: when you realise you are the age where you are not cool anymore

my innocent little conversation one morning with my fatnat trainer's protege made me realise i was no longer cool. muse, that's quite an appropriate t-shirt to have on, since you are understudying him, i said to the protege. it was only much later i realised it was the name of a band. awesome. the protege probably thinks i'm still taking drugs before i go to the gym.

the generation gap is all part of the tension between the baby boomers, gen-X and gen-Y. part of the reason for this tension is not because they are [insert the phrases you always use to insult gen-Y here]. secretly my tension towards gen-Y i am projecting is my resentment because you grew up with all the confidence, certainty and smarts i had to go through life learning to become. i really wish i were you sometimes.

[2] weddings are defining moments in life. i attend tara's wedding which has been finally come to fruition after months of planning. it was a perfect sun drenched day with views overlooking the water. every moment was perfectly timed and detail flawlessly organised. it was the wedding planned by a meticulous PR person and it would probably be the wedding the type of wedding i would have planned for myself if i'd ever marry. someone asked if i was part of the ceremony today because i was well put together. i actually wanted to say i was looking for a man to walk down the aisle with later and if they could find one in the next couple of minutes, it would really be handy. instead i do what every wedding guest does and i get teary when vows are read and rings exchanged. you'd expect the same from me if it was a movie. which is probably you'd find me dabbing my eyes on the plane watching the proposal twice at that scene where andrew asks margaret to marry him when she's about to be deported. i'm still a little wedding struck so if you ask me nicely today, i might say yes.

2009-10-18T21:00:00.004+11:00

so how are you enjoying your new apartment?, i said to my neighbour.

not really much. i think it might be haunted. there are strange smells and there was once when i found the dishwasher open.

awkward conversation territory [ACT]. i expressed my surprise and was somewhat at a loss of words. how do you say something comforting/positive to someone who has made a nest in amityville horror? i really wanted to volunteer to come around to sing kumbaya in a circle with my other neighbours but it was probably inappropriate at that moment.

we've all drifted into ACT and been caught out trying to find something to say to fill the moment. its a bit like the realisation of the moment when i first lived in australia that how are you going? doesn't give me poetic licence to give a dump of my day. but ACT can be used to your advantage when you are trying to extract information / get consent / embarrass. its probably best to carry out ACT when you are wholly lubricated [with grog] and uninhibited or when you need an answer to life's mysteries.

i find myself about to enter ACT during dinner sitting next to a boy whom i had many many moons ago and asked out on a date. me asking someone to go on a date is a rare phenomena like climate change and this would only happen once in your lifetime.

the story goes that after my breakup from a long relationship, i ran the dating treadmill and decided this boy was interesting and worth a chat over lunch. i get the boy's number from my friend and organise a lunch catchup. i get a call an hour before lunch saying he couldn't make it since he was hungover and we should reschedule. except i decide that life is too short and the boy only gets one opportunity. we never have lunch because i never returned his calls. much later, i learn that the boy has apparently dated my ex. and there is nothing less desirable than finding out the men you fancy have dated your ex. which in my vocabulary, renders most of sydney's gay population undateable.

and in a perfect moment when we are sitting beside each other having a stunning conversation about life, i feel this overwhelming urge to serve a question that will bring me into the ACT.

now that's really interesting because you are doing the same thing as my ex. i've been told you were dating?

how would his answer make my life any different? what would i achieve by placing ourselves into an ACT moment? i am saved by the mains as they are brought to the table. that question never crosses my mind again because after more wine, i decide life is much better with the company that we keep and life will sometimes have questions unanswered.

2009-10-13T00:37:00.005+11:00

some build houses together to help ease their pain while others build houses for people to ease their own. the value of redecorating and construction has the power to to mend and make things better in the lives of three people i know. does the very act of rebuilding hold relationships and purpose together or is it merely a distraction from the bigger pains that exist or plans ahead?

its kind of like the grand reconstruction projects that promise a better quality of life and economic prosperity to nations but yet when some are done and dusted, they resemble white elephants than attract a couple of column inches in the news or serve as memories in tourist snapshots.

for over a year since i've moved into my apartment, i've put off throwing a housewarming party with the excuse that its not quite ready. furniture and more artwork acquired later, i still feel its not ready. but my nearest and closest friends have visited, most recently, the boys from auckland, who compliment the new things i've added since they visited six months ago.

the apartment looks great.
thanks but it still needs work.

its not really complete because i need more. one more piece of furniture in my bedroom. or that hallway still needs that one statement piece. for these reasons, the apartment in my mind is incomplete. and it adds on to the puzzle of why i still search for the missing pieces and i can't walk away from galleries, furniture stores or design magazines without a need.

but this need has the potential of becoming a white elephant. or it has become a substitute to the realities i'm refusing to face.

when i was in manila last week, i visited the coconut palace, a lavish seven hectare property built by imelda marcos for a papal visit. it was the most ornate royal residence and she obviously painstakingly designed and furnished each room to give it a special feel. yet many years later, it sits in decay entertaining the occasional tourist in manila.

perhaps imelda never entertained the idea that this special place would be a white elephant or her way of building something special the country could be proud about in the abject face of poverty and the lack of national cultural monuments of significance.

i guess its time to put the construction behind and to sit back and be proud of it. and use the time to move on in other areas of my life.

2009-09-30T19:45:00.008+10:00

ingredients for the perfect storm:

longing
death
monotony
panic
desire
fear

many things have crossed my mind on sleepless mornings when the light pierces through my blinds and my body gets a hint buried under my eye mask that its daylight. so i toss restlessly in bed for another two hours before its really time to get out of bed reflecting / thinking about life.

i'm having a mild crisis at the moment trying to figure out where the year has gone and attempting to map how my life should pan out in 2010. i'm reminded of the story my mum told me about how my grandmother had stopped tearing off the pages on her daily calendar [its an asian calendar which you hang on the wall where you remove the page each day to reveal the new date]. in the last week of her life, she had stopped removing the pages. Maybe its a sign that she wanted time to stand still. maybe it was her sign that she had given up on living so a new day didn't matter any more.

My nearest and dearest know that my life has been in a holding pattern for quite sometime. It has taken a while to act on decisions that I should have made some time ago. Perhaps it has been a combination of fear, hope and ignorance that is clashing in my head. It resembles the planes I see waiting in the sky for clearance to land. But now that i've dealt with two road blocks, I can't find the courage to deal with another. It's funny how I allow victories to weaken me.

Sometimes i try to park these issues in the difficult lot and attempt to revisit this during breaks. Like now. Except I'm presented with different issues to resolve with the family. So to cope with my inability to make everything / everyone better, I do what good gay boys do and go shopping.

Do I feel better right now? Ask me on sunday.

2009-09-27T17:49:00.003+10:00

after my grandmother's funeral, my uncle chanced upon me for a discussion on how concerned he was about me being on my own and the fact that i am at a marriageable age and should be with someone. other than the brief chuckle i let out and not wanting to engage much further in this conversation, i would have walked out of this scene except i had my dear niece, my ally, sitting across me, rolling her eyeballs in support.

i would have really wanted to say if statistically, that being with someone else, would have made your better off in life, why would there be such a high rate of divorces/unhappy marriages in our family alone. and if he had a clue, that i am gay. because many moons ago when i lived in singapore, i was rocking up at family gatherings with my first partner.

but while i still continue to be the posterchild of singlehood, i find myself recently contradicting the lobby i represent when shawn, my 29yo gay best friend indicated he would be happier being on his own.

but noooo..... its too early to decide this is best for you, i said in all earnesty. you must have an open mind about meeting someone.

i actually can't believe that came out of my mouth. from someone who has lived two failed relationships in my life at 37yo and have been happily single for the longest time. in contrast, i am currently in a conversion phase telling roger, who is desperately seeking love and companionship at 33yo that you can live a happy and fulfilled life being an independent single person.

why does the world judge you on the value of being in a relationship? i really can't understand why you are told that life is more complete being with someone. that perhaps pretending your partner isn't sleeping with other boys behind your back. or has a wandering eye is okay as long as they come back to you.

at the same time, i feel happy for all my friends who are living in long-term relationship because there's nothing better than finding someone you can spend the rest of your life with. but that doesn't mean your life should be less complete if you don't.

so i feel strained when i want to say to shawn or roger that-- its alright.

2009-09-23T19:56:00.003+10:00

at 0605 this morning confronted with this view from my living room, only three thoughts crossed my mind:

(a) should i cancel all my meetings and stay in bed
(b) i hope i've lived my life to its fullest
(c) i hope someone remembers to pay for my amex bill

but since i'm still alive, i thought i should share this with you.

and a word of advice. always sleep with your balcony doors closed.

2009-09-21T20:15:00.003+10:00

my music choices always veer towards trance because its loud enough to keep the weirdos away at the gym and to weed out inane conversations on public transport. i am a devout of TATW and my weekly download substitutes my habit of wanting to buy CDs every week [because there's less good trance being made since everybody has stopped buying CDs and spend their time bit-torrenting every new release].

but recently, i'm starting to behave like a love sick lesbian and all i want to listen to is melody gardot's my one and only thrill and trentemoller's harbour boat trips. its like a potent combination of valium and vodka where you feel your senses just slowly slipping away as you go deeper into the album. so in an effort to reassert my gayness and masculinity, i look at my top 25 playlist on my itunes and find out i'm actually a love sick lesbian trapped in a gay man's body.

the list really doesn't make any sense and i am terribly embarrassed to share such private information [despite the fact i can talk about what the doctors do to me on this blog]. but because its monday and i'm feeling very generous, here are the top 10.

1. the last time, the thrillseekers
2. i want that man, deborah harry
3. the one [bitrocka remix], kylie minogue
4. slo motion, kylie minogue
5. what it feels like for a girl [stefane pompougnac remix], madonna
6. lost [club mix], sunlounger
7. dreamin', vanessa williams
8. move closer, phyllis nelson
9. love comes first [styrofoam remix], technosquirrels
10. the voice within, christina aguilera

please do yourself a favour and not google these songs. i think i might need a new ipod to erase my past.

2009-09-19T05:47:00.004+10:00

1/ at the hairdressers on friday, i get one of those oh my fucking god panic attack moments. it wasn't over the fact that this girl was washing my hair wearing disposable gloves [honestly, i haven't had lice my entire life]. it was the stark reality the year is almost over when i see a cover for an OCTOBER magazine. fuck. so much has happened in a year but so much has yet to happen. what will i need to do before the year is over? maybe find a bromance, learn to drive, put my winter wardrobe away, brush up on my mandarin. suggestions are welcome. especially if you are connected to kerry so i can put my bromance search to rest.

2/ i'm missing another massive party season over the labor day weekend and i know its going to be a good one too. because the gym is absolutely packing up in the morning and the boys are back! having survived an entire winter getting my ass kicked in the mornings by the fatnat, its nice to see commitment from the lazy gays. some people wonder why i bother waking up at an ungodly hour to gym but its a routine i've kept for many years and its pretty hard to break. and i worry about becoming a sloth the day i stop this all.

3/ if i was a down and out crack whore, i would sell my children for another meal at rockpool bar and grill. just when every restaurant is competing for complexity, they've brought sublime and food done well not fancy back on the scene. i had a grass fed cape grim fillet with nothing more than seeded mustard and horeseradish over lunch with the standard sides to share. washed down with a cab shiraz over a client lunch. i don't want foam. i don't want degustation. i don't want sharing plates. i don't want fusion. i crave for simplicity done well on a plate.

2009-09-14T20:38:00.003+10:00

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly,
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy
- mary howitt

i've come to my apartment door in complete darkness on a number of occasions. both downlights on my corridor have blown. even the emergency exit light has been extinguished. seriously, it can't be a coincidence. but since i spend many nights awake trying to solve the conspiracy theories of the world, i can only blame the bear, my neighbour, when this happens.

the bear isn't terribly friendly and my nice neighbours have kindly pieced his past together for me. he is obviously bitterly unhappy. but you would have to be if you look like someone has shoved a street lamp up your arse and you've walked around all day with it.

i used to think my renovations had driven him mad and this was why he's been very unfriendly, despite my attempts to reach out to him.

but my new conspiracy theory tells me its actually the lighting along the corridor that makes him bitter.

imagine you had innocently agreed to meet the bear on gaydar after a brief chat and scanning his profile pictures. you'd probably be arriving thinking you'd have the best sex ever with the hottest butch man you'll ever meet. except when the door opens, all you want to do is let out a blood curdling scream and run.

so to avoid alarming the neighbours [me] and to lure innocent prey beyond your parlour door, you deliberately kill every light source on the corridor so all they see when the door opens is a soft shadow of you and nothing much more.

the rest i leave to your imagination but i'm going to be nice and use my iphone when the lights go out. knowing very well that night, that the spider has the fly.

2009-09-11T05:10:00.003+10:00

time and tide wait for no men

i've made an unexpected trip to singapore over the weekend to see my grandmother. except it would have been better if i had planned that trip earlier instead of october so i could see her before she passed away. when it comes to saying the last goodbye, my timing in life has been terrible. i never got to see my grandparents for the last time - i would be overseas or at work during these occasions.

My clearest memories of my grandmothers evolve around a mahjong table when I was a child. It was over the same mahjong table that my paternal and maternal grandmothers bonded over many weekend games. It was over the same mahjong table that I learnt how caffeine could fuel all night sessions, swearing in Cantonese and the all important art of stacking tiles quickly.
Despite my parents divorce, the relationship between my grandmothers remained strong. It was through this relationship that I’ve learnt about the strengths of the matriarchs.

She was an individual. Someone who smoked, drank, encouraged me to have a couple of sips at the age of five and swore like a champion at the mahjong table. But most of all, it was her thoughtfulness that i have inherited and carry through the life i live. She expected nothing in return.

We celebrated her life that gave much and loved many on her journey home. I am grateful for her love and memories.

2009-09-03T20:10:00.002+10:00

i really don't get off on dropping my pants in front of strangers but i'm at the doctor tonight doing just that. fortunately its not dr destroyed whom i spy leaving while i'm crowd shafted in a waiting room with people who look much sicker than me. i like watching the queens working at reception tonight. one of them is quite sneery because he'd rather be having a drink at stonewall on thursday at this hour.

this doctor has a good sense of humour since i'm quite naked on the bed. we rubbish the modesty cloth which barely covers anything and i explain you get the same sized cloths when you go to spas in korea. since i'm here, i decide to update my vaccinations for my upcoming trip to manila. and get a blood test. i would have ordered breast implants and tried to get a referral to see a therapist but its probably too much for the good doctor to handle at the end of his business day.

the male nurse who pricks me with needles tells me i've got huge arms and wants to know how i get them. i say they are hardly big enough because i see lots of boys who have nicer arms than me at the gym and get dizzy with envy. almost every time.

2009-08-31T21:15:00.003+10:00

[1] if money was no object, i would happily become a full-time academic. while the whole gay world and my friends were out partying this weekend, i spent it in the most unsocial manner preparing for a guest lecture i delivered today for postgraduate students on social media. i hate to admit i really loved every moment of the preparation, delivery and interaction. my inner geek connected to all those enquiring minds. i love discourse, theory, concepts and strategy. makes me wild.

[2] manila is probably the least touristed country in asia judging from the amount of online information that is available about the city. i've been doing some research for an upcoming trip and it yields very little. between yangon and manila, this was obviously a better choice for reasons that i haven't been there and i need to step out of my comfort zone.

[3] my fatnat trainer has a prodigy who is understudying to become a trainer. he's a ryan phillipe replica who is only 19 and straight and its so wrong but fatnat and i think he's hot. so for the last week, i've had a threesome in the morning. with another pair of eyes watching over me as i train. all these gay boys falling over themselves trying to figure out how i've got two for the price of one.

2009-08-24T20:06:00.002+10:00

because i manage reputations and brands for a living, i try not to blog about it because its like bringing your work home. but reading the negative comments posted about the ad on an online marketing rag made me want to write something positive about it.

as corny as it may sound, when i fly over the vast wilderness as you do, when you get into sydney, this peter allen song always plays in my mind. while i watch the light break, blue skies and miles of uninhabited earth, all i can think about is how lucky it is to be coming home.

so its a little disheartening to read comments about the use of an aboriginal child singing in a native language, that qantas is a crap airline compared to the asian and middle eastern carriers and that the immigrants have ruined this country.

people, i know we lost the ashes today. but please have some national pride.

flag waving music please

i choose to fly qantas whenever i can because i have friends whom they employ. that they serve my peasant class meal in a pet food tray designed by marc newson, a world renowned australian designer whom i love. where i get to have byron bay cookies and watch ABC programs for inflight entertainment. it imbibes my senses with the wonderful sense of my adopted home - stylish, yummy and good humored.

like the time when water poured down me from an overhead compartment while the plane took off. the boy on my left was in an absolute panic thinking the plane was about to go down and in no time, i had the attention of a stewardess who was patting down the damp with a wink and smile said, "i'm sorry but this is an old plane".

or when a stewardess was calmly chatting with a small family of african refugees in front of my row being resettled sharing her husband's experience moving to australia as a migrant.

and that's what i love about this airline. its the warmth [and realness] of being among australians.

flag waving music ends

2009-08-23T19:44:00.003+10:00

[1] i bump into v across from manky bar while its taking off during midday sunday. while we chat, a dazed and confused boy circles around us, unsure where he's heading after leaving hungry jacks. i tell v that mum's asked me what is that place with lots of people that she passes on sunday morning on her way to st marys. and my reply is "its a bar". v is far more honest in her reply to her visiting parents "its a bar where people haven't slept and they are still high on drugs." we have a giggle because its quite true.

[2] yumcha is not the same without the din and trolleys circling you. zilver is at its usual weekend capacity and we get ushered into a private room where there are four other tables. i feel a bit posh away from the madness. but for some reasons leave feeling very unfulfilled because i haven't had the complete sensory experience of families of asians rattling their chopsticks around me. boy in red t-shirt: you win the prize for cruising me massively. i could feel your stare burning throughout my meal. not this sunday, but i'll say yes on another.

[3] the knots on my body are magically erased by jeff, my destroyed and red ducati riding therapist. i wish i could keep this feeling for much longer but come tomorrow, i'll be destroying my body again.

2009-08-18T21:00:00.003+10:00

i will bore you with one more post about sportsmen since i have to get it off my chest.

during my weekend in adelaide with mummy, i spot a fit rugby/footy player with a tattoo on his stomach - words like Liz or something to that effect. i'm lying on the deck chair, thinking to myself - not bad, i wouldn't say no. Liz-man finds the outdoor spa a tad too cold and takes off.

i see Liz-man at the hotel bar in the evening while scanning for a table. i really can't place where i've seen him before but he's obviously notoriously famous/hot/rich because the place is dripping with estrogen. football wife potentials dressed to the T by the dozens, all lounging around the bar. slipping over to have their pictures taken. taking the opportunity to squeeze their arm around his very athletic shoulders. engaging in small talk.

Liz-man is lapping up the attention. flashes are popping and women are swooning across the room seizing for his gaze. Liz-man calls it the night and retreats where he is once again trapped at the lifts by women clawing for photos and attention.

this is the part where my moral values start to shift.

when i see different women handing their phone numbers on pieces of paper to him. he's collected quite a few while standing at the lift trying to get to his room. the groupies are slowly shifting out from the bar. i can't see if Liz-man has picked a shag but the bar empties almost immediately when the lift door closes.

i now see how the power of adoration changes you. it makes you believe you can get away with what you want. it makes you believe its alright to do what you did. it makes you believe you've done nothing wrong.

because it makes mere men believe they are immortal.

2009-08-13T13:52:00.002+10:00

I'm not naive enough to think that I can just wash my hands of where I've come from and it's all in the past. The harsh reality of it is that it's a struggle.

Ben Cousins

I'm quite furious that the GQ article about Ben Cousins has pictures of him with all his tattoos photoshopped out. Maybe it was meant to be a sympathy comeback exclusive carefully orchestrated by his publicist. Loaded with crafted messaging like the quote above. I can imagine the pre-briefing:

try not to make jokes about drugs.

you mean i can't talk about it at all?

if you get asked, just sneeze and flex a bicep to distract them

you can't make a bad boy good with an air brush. you can't delete a chequered history from the minds of the unforgiving.

2009-08-11T20:23:00.002+10:00

i decide to invest some time today renewing my business contacts. and i come across a business card of an ex-client. few business cards send a shiver down my spine in a pleasurable way. and this one does. google and linkedin tells me he's relocated and moved to a bigger role. i consult my colleague with a bio link and a recent photo. she says "he's really your type". i tell her she is completely right.

this one checks all the boxes on my want list - smart, successful and trendy. and he still looks good. so i decide to keep it casual with a message that i just wanted to say hi, see that you've relocated and hope you are well.

i'm very good at wanting boys that i just can't have. so i'll have to add him to my list.