Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Walking in the Rain.

Today was a wet day. Pouring from the early afternoon all the way till about nine plus at night. The perfect weather for sleeping but weather that was not reflective of my mood. The mixed euphoria, relief and slightly drained feelings still residual from the emotional rollercoaster ride the night before buoyed with the knowledge that I'd be seeing him again later.

Trudging to school in that downpour, I only realised later while walking out after class, to my consternation that the rickety blue umbrella was leaking. The constant stream of droplets landing on my head, an inreffutable indicator that the umbrella with broken, rickety spines could be recycled no longer. So after meeting Sean at Bugis Mrt, I resolutely informed him that I needed to get an umbrella first before we walked to the DSC clinic at Kelantan Lane. "What's wrong with that?" He pointed at the soaked blue umbrella. " It leaks." "Oh."

Sadly for some weird reason, the only kind of portable umbrella on sale in Watson's were techni-coloured polka dotted ones. But beggars cannot be choosers. So I chose the most neutral colour: Polka dotted Beige (relatively -When contrasted with barbie pink, neon green and a most ghastly shade of dirty purple).
"You sure you want to throw this away?" Sean said wagging the blue umbrella.
"Try opening it and see for yourself."
"Ok..It's all wet inside..."
"Stupid thing was leaking and dripping on my head."

We walked to DSC clinic for the $20 HIV anonymous testing because it was what he requested and I wanted- a necessary thing to finally lay to rest the exhumed ghosts of the past. Staffed by other AJs (gays), testing and the counselling (which was fast for me- cuz it was my second test, longer for the poor boy who had to sit through a lecture about unprotected sex) was relatively fast, about 15 mins and we were finished with the results and all. Negative for both, of course.

We decided to walk to the Mustafa area of Little India for dinner and to take the NorthEast line up to Sengkang from Farrer Park station. Walking in the rain, Sean holding that beige polka dotted umbrella, arm around my shoulder, body snug close to his, past those back lanes, the small shops stocked with their garish wares, loud hindi music blasting from the store fronted with plastic music CDs; that moment was pure bliss. Walking in the rain, just the two of us.

We stopped for a very gratifying and filling dinner at Anada Bhavan Vegetarian restaurant (at one of its more modern 'express food' style outlets in Little India) just one road down from Mustafa. Cheap and Good. $6 for the South Indian set that I tell you comes chock full with so much stuff you don't know where to begin. So you do what the Indians do, mix everything up into a messy mush that looks disgusting but is incredibly tasty and eat. As Sean commented, imagine if all the Tiffin carriers contained meat instead of vegetables and the various vege curries /curd/ pickles.
"I think I'd throw up halfway through." I grimace.
"Hmm, ya I think I would too. This thing is already filling enough as it is."

Took some pics, cause I still remember the first time I sat down to a meal like that back in Primary six, that wide-eyed wonder as I thought to myself 'That's HUGE! And they have this everyday?'. And I could hardly finish half. These days I can finish it all, barely if I'm starving. Today I left a bit behind, but it was immensely satisfying.

Ok I was bored while waiting (it took only 5 mins for the food to be ready though). 'Badges' of honour covering the pinpricks and the AfA (Action for Aids) $20 cash only receipt.

Kyaaa! Just look at that monster. Alright don't ask me the names, I don't know what 70% of that is except that everything is vegetarian. 14 kinds of side dishes including the two pastes, a mountain of steaming white rice and delightfully purple pickles. Sweet white Lassi (yoghurt drink) in the background. Sean took the same set cuz they were out of Briyani. SIX bucks.

Now to mix and mash it all up. Disgusting but positively Yummy. Not fully mixed but you get my drift. And I swear this is the first time I've ever eaten something so purple (that wasn't some sweet, Jam or confectionary). Mixing can be a form of art too, you get the different colours of course, white, yellow, red, green, purple and when mixed well, the ensuing taste is really different, a blend that is really indescripable: savoury, spicy, sour with a tinge of sweetness.
Dropping me off later, we kissed and Sean slipped a cheque into my hand.
"Thanks so much for being with me, here's a little something." He whispered.
"What? You don't need to give me anything for being with you. I always wanted to." And I tried to slip it into his pocket.
"No, of course not it's not that, just a little thank you from the bonus. Use it to save up for the grad trip."
"Oh alright, thank you." Another kiss and he drives off.

Later on I get the Text: 'Don't get me wrong I'm not paying you to be my bf or anything k. Just to share with you what I got from last year.'
I know dummy, I was just teasing you. Hugs. Thank you. For everything and especially that walk in the rain. With you, just the two of us.

'I'm hooked on a feeling, I'm high on believing that you're in love with me.' -Hooked on a Feeling /BJ Thomas


By you I have been redeemed. The paralysis that set in: the inability to eat, think coherently or do anything, lifted. That phone call was painful, excruciatingly so. I cried so hard, ashamed, embarrassed, wretched, never having given careful consideration to how you felt. But it was worth it.... The thought of losing you permanently unbearable, something which frightened me more than anything else. That aching vise like grip in the chest, a pain palpably physical like a gaping hole threatening to consume all into oblivion.

"Don't cry please." You said, tears behind that voice. But I couldn't help it. Face in hands, violent wracking sobs that would not be stopped, the tears flowing freely. And something you said that will always stay with me. "We don't live for ourselves only, we live for each other too just as I live for you and our actions will have to reflect that." So true.

"I'm not leaving you, this is something we have to bear together."
"But I'm the one entirely at fault, you shouldn't have to bear it. It's unfair to you, just do whatever you want with me."
"I'll bear it with you because we face things together, as a couple."

Bitter-sweet. Thank you for redeeming me.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007


Thank you for reminding me so pointedly that a relationship without truthfulness on the part of both parties lacks a fundamental tenet. Without total and frank disclosure, trust is a concept fervently cherished, painstakingly constructed on a bedrock of suppressed half-truths and glossed over distractions that one hopes will disappear with the passage of time.

Thank you for galvanising me into action, into confessing one's infidelity and abject wretchedness fuelled by lust of the flesh and a mind that has been quick to act, worry about the consequences later.

Yes what a tangled web we weave when we first learn to deceive. The need to carry on some lies hanging on in perpetuity. Love without Truth is flawed, that truism I agree with and is something I've struggled with for so long. Hoping that by focusing on the genuine affection and love I held that miraculously some form of self penitence could be achieved, the wrongs wrought absolved by the strength and genuinity of Love coupled with the steadfast determination never to repeat it again.

But yes I see it now, not so as debasing the notion of Love, wielding it like some common catchphrase to encompass a casual concoction of companionship, sex and convenience. Perhaps once I would have, maybe once I even did, but not now. And to perceive as you would from a bystander's viewpoint, coming to such a stand with such nonchalance that love is simply a school girl's dream, a fantasy of convenience and romance, ignores the fact that I really love him. Simple as that. Sure my past actions probably throw a dubious light on my declaration, and natural cynic that you(Kate) are, are undoubtedly justified in coming to such a conclusion. But we humans are complex creatures and relationships are complex interactions that defy logic and reason. Why we act the way we do. Can you seriously say that you've never lied to someone you love or matters incredibly much to you yourself?

But I digress and my intention is not to justify for I stand before you, Sean, incredibly damned and broken. Without truth, continuing this desperate attempt to gloss over damning infidelity by focusing solely on the present, all the while looking into your eyes, haunted by the very realisation that I have not been giving you the truth. Dark secrets that threaten to burst forth from their shallow grave. Without truth, continuing this gaily disguised charade of one, is a one sided and extremely selfish affair that does you no justice. How can I expect the same from you when I cannot even confess what I've done.

Those terrible deeds of infidelity that gnaw inside and remind that whatever you have given to me 100%, I cheated on in those times. And returning it 110% now, not out of guilt, but of genuine realisation that I was always running from my heart, that the love I have for you is real, attempting to make up for the past; Is no form of self-penitence, no justice to you, for only with Truth may I possibly be absolved. By you and only you.

"Give me sometime to digest this. It's too sudden." The pain and anger you no doubt feel. Justified in every way. I want to say: Should you so decide it unforgivable, so terribly despicable and say goodbye I will understand. But I can't. Even though I do understand the wretchedness you feel, the hurt I've caused, the beast I am, I still don't know what i'll do without you. Ironic isn't it, this inability, this refusal to let go still stems from that selfish need of needing you. But It takes two to clap, I'll wait, I'll do anything I can but if you want nothing more to do with me. I'll understand. Maybe accept eventually. But not now, should I plead for forgiveness? I don't even have the right to do so. Tell me.

To the one whose tongue of acid that shocks and bites. Words are immaterial. Love can be love by any other name, it's the substance not the form. A carnation will never be a rose, that is obvious but its beauty lies not in its imitability but in its very essence..of being a carnation. I don't prophesy, Love is no Oracle but a constant journey. We cannot predict the future but we can face it together. And when the constantly cultivated evolution blossoms, the journey is that much better.

Confessing brings crushing relief, bitter with the tinge of betrayal and wretchedness, sweet with the knowledge of coming clean, the purging of unsavoury debris. Don't let go. I'll be waiting.

$173 has been banked into your account via cheque, Kate. ($39 for the bus ride which leaves $79 for Annie and $94 for you.)

Monday, February 26, 2007

Cheap Thrill.

Well one of my translated works has finally been released by Obsession in its full scanlated version, Chapter 2 of Nigai Kajitsu (A Bitter Fruit) - a collection of bittersweet one shots by the very talented (ie: hot guys, great stories) Shiuko Kano, woot! Chapters 3 and 4 should be on their way soon.

It's one of the last few translations I've done (before the current short hiatus for the hellish assignment weeks) but the earlier ones are scheduled to be released as part of the group's Anniversary whammy.

Look forward to more smex coming your way ^^.

And the cheap/free thrill factor? Having your nickname mentioned in the credits page along with the knowledge that everyone who reads the translated version is reading what you want them to. Wahahaha.

Sunday, February 25, 2007


Because sleep continues to elude me until the wee hours of the morning, the hellish weeks of assignment have started and sometimes a little fever is good. Bon apetit!

Thursday, February 22, 2007

The week in pictures.

Because they say a picture says a thousand words. Well actually it's cuz I'm lazy plus pictures make up for the otherwise incoherent flow of events. Grins.

Sunday. Chinese New Year.
Had to get up for a disgustingly early combined service at what 8.30 am? ><. Sister stepped out all decked out, with a face so white, a geisha would have been proud. ( of the colour). "How is it? Too much foundation?" She queried. "Way way too much (anyone could have told you that.)" "Take a photo and show me!"
Presenting the White Faced Bride. (Still waiting for her groom.)

Monday. Before St James Power station.
A cascade of luminous orbs, red and gold, raining down from above. Pan Pacific Hotel. Like some vastly magnified molecular structure. Very eye-catching, very long, very CNY.

Wednesday. Accident aftermath.
Spot what's missing? Gash in the side, side windows scratched, right side mirror ripped off. Mother had an accident with a motorcyclist in the morning. And at the very same spot she always screams about when I drive. Rolls eyes. Her response? "Better me than you and you know you really must watch out for traffic....."
Tunes out. Yes I know. Looks at car. Looks at her. Sighs.

Today. Rumpled bedsheets.
Erm.. rather self-explanatory. Sean came over, a few soujourns in bed, forgot to shut the windows. Poor bed. Well not really.

Today. Simple Lunch : Free & Good.
Cooked lunch again. Yaki Udon (fried udon : Mincemeat seasoned with light soya sauce, oyster sauce, worchester sauce, sesame oil & pepper, mixed vegetables, lettuce, egg, scallops, pine nuts, Black soya sauce, sesame oil, Udon.) , Miso soup and Ginseng tea. Ittadakimasu!
Having him clear out the sink strainer (I cook, you wash.) was like threatening to castrate him. ><. No, we are not getting a sink grinder.

Today. Dinner.
Sultan Kebab at Peace Center. Look at that shapely 'Beef Roll'! Slim, juicy, tasty with lots of lettuce and not messy. 5 bucks for this hot roll that alas disappears all too quickly.

Today. Dessert Hut.
Just next door, splendid traditional desserts at a decent price. I took the glutinous rice ball with black sesame paste, he took his mango sago. Both $2.50 and equally delectable, though I still think mine's better and more worth it. Ha ha, 3 Rice Balls and Zhi Ma Hu to boot! Woot!

Today. Zhi Ma Hu with Tang Yuan (Glutinous rice balls.) close up.
Soft, slightly chewy with loads of tasty fragrant peanut paste inside. And their Zhi Ma Hu is still the best I've eaten (In Singapore), smooth, good texture and excellent taste. That's something I'll never tire of.
There's a very nice outlet in Hong Kong that serves top notch desserts, though for the incredible Egg white milk custard, the one in Macau is still unbeatable.
And to end the day on a high note, Sean's sis finally delivered a baby boy via C-section and they decided to visit her on Friday instead which meant he didn't need to rush off after dinner as he thought he had to. That guy's really eagle eyed too, walking to city hall to get my swatch battery changed and coffee at TCC, we stopped to sit for a bit at the traffic light before NAFA as he was on the phone.
Apparently he always scans the ground and so he noticed that crumpled looking ang pow lying on the ground. Gesturing furiously at me, it was obvious he wanted me to pick it up, which I refused to do so, assuming it was probably empty. Probably some jerk who took out the money and threw the wrapper on the ground. Gesticulating insistently, he glared at me, reaching down to pick it up and tossing it at me. With a sigh I prepared to tear it apart and chastise him for being such a bloody cheapo.
Picking it up, it didn't feel empty, so heart quickening I opened it gingerly and was thrilled when I saw some blue. "Fifty" I instantly thought. "And more than one at that." Easing it out, yielded two crisp folded 50 bucks notes. "Gack $100!!" By then he had gotten off the phone.
"See I told you to pick it up right? Got money don't want to listen. One old man who walked past just now kept eyeing the ang pow that's why I was nudging you so hard."
"Oh... very sharp huh you."
Then he stretched out his hand and I handed it over.
"I found it first, and you didn't want to pick it up." came the matter of fact statement.
Which was undoubtedly true, though he did catch my side glance at the flash of blue.
"Hah! You're still looking at it so longingly!" He accuses.
"What! I'm not! It's yours."
"Nah, keep it." And he hands it over.
"No, you take it." I hand it back.
"Just keep it now and go deposit it later. That poor idiot who dropped it might come back looking for it."
"Ah good point... Well we'll use this for dinner sometime."
"Hmmm." He grunts.
"Or maybe offset the cost of completing the Kizuna manga series." I venture teasingly.
"Manga your head! You better not spend it on that."
"Alright, alright." I threw my arm around his shoulder as we cross the street.
Mmm, nice way to start the new year.
PS: Congrats on the raise and 6 month bonus dear, guess that angpow was really worth it lol:)

Tuesday, February 20, 2007


I am drowning, drowning in your love. I do not regret the impulsive decision to meet you at St James’ power station which was as huge as the now defunct Sparkz. My first visit there, as was yours not that it mattered, it had been ages since we last went clubbing, those Centro era days a hazy memory. Ages, and the thought of lazing about in the sis’s pre booked swissotel rooms unbearable with you so nearby. So I went off after catching Ghost Rider with the family on the pretext of coffee with campmates -the oft brandished excuse. Short as it may be, time with you is always precious. Keeping our hands off each other was hard but I was pleasantly surprised in the club, the intensity with which you gripped me left me breathless and incapacitated. Immobile in that maelstrom of passion. Lost in your embrace, everything else fading to insignificant nothingness, the display of affection private and blind. Set free from the shackles of driving, you seemed wild even exuberant, ordering drinks with a vengeance that shocked even the alcohol hardened me.

Having bought a splendid (as always) Asahi at 7 Eleven before hurrying off to meet you at St James Power Station (where the queue was horrendous and entailed a great deal of shoulder tapping, excuse mes and squeezing before getting to you in the front) because a little 'apertif' is always better (both as a warm-up and on the pocket), you gave me that quizzical look of yours. “What drinking again? We better dispose of this before we get in.”
“I was thirsty!”
And you grinned while that not very cute friend of yours (Yongmin right?) smiled and tried to strike up the usual conversation which naturally had to be entertained.
Someone then proceeded to drink like a fish or rather order alcohol like a hard core wino. Let me see how did it go, I had a crappy Tiger(bloody House pour didnt include Heineken><), you had a Bourbon Coke, we proceeded to Gin Tonic each then a jug of Vodka Lime which as usual tasted more of lime than vodka though the vodka was really at the bottom and finally a Jug of Gin Tonic which was kick ass though I’d only expected a glass but that alcohol happy boy was on auto now. Grinning and groping which was a great turn on and I eagerly devoured you while you rocked happily to the music and declared chirpily: 'I’m really really high now you know.'

“I know my alcohol tolerance has always been higher than yours and I’m really high now, you must be quite drunk now. You absolutely must not order anything more after this OK, promise me, I have to leave soon.”
“Mmm.. ok.”
And you grinned, bopping happily on the seat, grinding your bum against my groin and planted a nice sloppy french kiss. But you really made me worry and even in the cab I wasn’t at ease, having to contact you and make you pass the phone to Gavin who kindly agreed to look after you ( declaring that you couldn't even stand properly on your own two feet—and you had conveniently wandered out to meet them you dodo!) Even so I’m really glad I went and seeing you again after that short hiatus sent shivers up my spine. That quiet joy. I almost feel sorry for your friend.

Anyhow this is the last time you’ll ever drink like that when I’m not around to the end. Lost in your embrace. Hugs.

Thursday, February 15, 2007


Done with this 12 episode anime, it turned out to be better than I expected, having read a rather disappointing review though the author did say most people would probably disagree with him. Which is true. The animation is great, the soundtracks fitting, spell battles superb and the plot decent. Loveless is based on the manga of the same series.With the exception of a few kisses here and there, this series is definitely not yaoi, not even shonen-ai, probably a mix of Shoujo and fantasy. It involves the concept of Fighters and Sacrifices, couples who slug it out in spell battles that involve the use of words to manipulate various forms of magic.

For those of you familiar with Robert Jordan's epic and seemingly never ending Wheel of Time Series, the whole Fighter/sacrifice stuff is similar to the Sean'chan Sul da'maane and da'maane pairing. The Fighter fights (duh) using magic and the Sacrifice absorbs any damage inflicted on the Fighter. It is a 'master-slave' relationship only that here, the sacrifice is the 'master' and the Fighter the 'slave'. The whole show's basically about Ritsuka, a 6th grader still traumatised by the death of his older brother 2 years back, having to cope with the sudden appearance of his brother's Fighter, the powerful but strange Soubi. Ritsuka tries to comprehend Soubi who both angers as well as attracts him, throw in his quest to find those who murdered his brother in the shadowy Seven Moons organization, couples(Fighter/Sacrifice) who are constantly sent to snatch Ritsuka away from Soubi and you have a plot.

Of course, this anime isn't perfect. I'm not thrilled with the concept of cats' ears and tails which i think is really weird and the ending is not very complete: one still has no idea who ordered Ritsuka's brother's murder at the organisation or if Ritsuka/Loveless will ever bond with Soubi as Fighter and Sacrifice. Which in a way is understandable I guess, the anime was based on the Manga which was up to Volume 4 at that time, so things weren't really complete. The current Japanese version is Volume 7 and the wickedly efficient Obsession Group is currently scanlating Ch 3 of volume 7.

With the fantastic spell battle scenes, an interesting cast of Fighter/Sacrifice couples: the High School Couple, the Gothic couple, the Sadistic young punks and Lesbian Lolitas, each with very different forms of attacks, the anime does not fail to entertain. Without further ado, here's some snippets of the fight scenes between Soubi/Ritsuka and my favourite couple pairing of their adversaries encountered in the anime, the High School kids. While arguably not the strongest couple ( sadistic punks), their elemental attacks and the ensuing fight scenes are by far the most visually spectacular. Links to the anime and manga may be found below.


Completed Loveless (12 episodes) anime may be found here

Loveless manga (English Vol 1-7(Ch 2)) may be found here

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Spending Valentine's: Sweet Simplicity.

Hmmm yes this extremely commercialised yearly event. When the catch-all phrase 'Love is in the Air' is used to justify exorbitant prices for sub-standard food( all that crappy valentine set menus, 75% of which either taste really bad, are ripoffs or both), droppy wilting flowers and stratosphere high romance packages (be it spa treatments or hotel stays). Just look at that ludicrous $6888 luxury one night packages for the extremely rich( and extremely stupid couple I might add.) offered at a couple of hotels. $388 is a steep enough price... but $6888? That's more than enough for 2 high end laptops Sean commented. And if you think about it every min is about more than $10. If one is ever willing to blow $6888 on that, I think flying off to Europe for 2 weeks would be a much much better deal, not to mention being a whole lot more enjoyable.

Valentine's was a sweet and simple affair which suited both of us perfectly. He came over in the morning and as usual I nearly overslept ( still waking up disoriented at 7.20 am, peering at the clock and wondering why I'm up at such an unearthly hour --> I can't sleep before 2 AM generally, then plonking back into bed before realising he's coming over.) Poor thing had to have some conference call so I went back to sleep until he finished and made sure I couldn't continue sleeping. Did some laundry before someone became very amorous again after which I pleaded fatigue, having only slept at 3 am, and took a nap before getting up to cook lunch.

Decided to go to class after all and Sean sweetly agreed to accompany and wait for me, so to entertain him I packed in a couple of Yaoi manga(he didn't want Reader's Digest) though I did query whether he'd even dare to be seen reading such stuff in public and one of the covers was a little obvious. And that chap came up with the solution of wrapping the covers with paper which I must admit was not something I had considered. So I passed him some IP notes to rip up and staple as he saw fit.

Dinner was a simple yet very satisfying affair. Sultan Kebabs, a small Lebanese(?) cafe, at Peace Center has only 3 kinds of items on the menu, Chicken/beef roll chicken/beef sandwich and some chicken/beef iskendar. Pity the sandwich and beef were sold out but I must say at 5 bucks the Chicken doner roll there is better than the $6.50 one at anatolya at Far East plaza. For one, it's cheaper, less greasy, has no icky tomato sauce, more veggies and is really tasty. A no frills kind of place, they don't even have drinks on the menu. But the doner roll was really good. Dessert was just a couple of stalls away at the Dessert Hut which sells those traditional Chinese desserts, sadly most of the hot and cold desserts were sold out but the Zhi Ma Hu (Black Sesame cream) and Or-nee(Yam paste) we tried were really good and at $4.50 for 2 bowls, immensely more gratifying than some of the very very substandard cakes, coffee chains are serving lately... ><.

Which leads me to my gripe of the day. Those of you who know me better know that I'm really a coffee junkie and that usually means some form of dessert too. So after walking about for a good bit and checking out more manga at Kinokuniya (which of course had an dismal selection of Yaoi.), my shoulder was killing me (bloody laptop, charger and books). We decided to have coffee at Coffee Bean for a change as Coffee Club was packed. Coffee Bean used to be a personal favourite way back, the coffee consistently better than Starbuck's and the cakes were decent. Lately though, standards seem to have dropped drastically. I ordered my usual poison, Iced cafe latte, Sean, his usual hot chocolate and the sweet tooth kicked in, so I ordered a slice of Chocolate of a Thousand Leaves (always reminded me of some fanciful martial art skill--Imagine using Jiu Yin Bai Gu Zhang, then the opponent coming out with Qian Ye Qiao Ke Li! ^^) cake.
I remembered it being quite decent 3 years ago.

The Iced Cafe Latte was passable, nowhere as good as TCC's (The Coffee Connoisseur), Sean complained that his hot chocolate tasted really gross which it did (he compared it to Sustagen but I'd never drunk sustagen before so I wouldn't know, still that stuff was bad.) The fucking $5 cake though was really like SHIT. Dry, hard sponge like shit at that. I was trying to force myself to finish as much of that disgusting thing when Sean commented it looks really horrible you know, you shouldn't force yourself to eat it. I gave up, not worth the calories and what a super letdown. Fossilized brown sponge which flunk both the taste as well as 'fork' test. It even flunk the 'Should display cake-like properties' test. And here you have the irrefutable evidence.

Evidence Article A.

Plastic fork stabbed into unyielding exterior remains rigid and resistant to any normal attempts to remove it. Note the extremely dry, sponge like texture of the cake. Correction, brown, is-that-edible? sponge. Dubious 'hot chocolate' visible in background.

Evidence Article B.
And yes it's not a cake! Brown Sponge remains firmly lodged to fork when lifted despite hard shakes to dislodge it. Test kindly performed by Sean. Submitted that evidence shows a prima facie case against the suspect 'cake'.

Good grief and to think I ate about 60% of that shit.

$14.20 for that vs $14.50 for dinner plus enjoyable traditional desserts. No brainer as to which one was money well-spent. So Ladies and Gentlemen, if you need your coffee and dessert/ cake I recommend TCC which serves good coffee and decent cake (not fantastic but decently good). And god forbid you order fossilised sponges with fancy names like the one above.

Plus I hope however you spent this day (be it special), it was one that remained enjoyable. Cheers.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Sweat, sex & soya milk

Going for IPT ( that voluntary physical training program so as to be exempted from the dreaded RT) after bouts of passion and having only Soya milk and that tiny cheese pancake from Mr Bean for dinner was on hindsight not a good idea.

But I was out of time and to make matters worse, they conducted a trial IPPT to ascertain our fitness level which was obviously very crappy. By the time I was on the third round of the 2.4km run, my legs felt like putty and even though it wasn't hard to motivate oneself to run ( just by passing all those walkers), the urge to just give up was very great. Not that it really mattered much in the end, clocked a miserable 13.02 mins... and I was the third at that. LOL. And yes I still can't jump for nuts.

On the bright side, I managed a almost decent 4 for pull-ups (yaay) and the next two sessions for the New Year week will be blocked off and regarded as part of the training schedule, which means 6 sessions instead of 8. Which is really not bad compared to a 20 session full RT. ><. This kind of stuff is usually more fun if you've someone to train/suffer together with, though that boy got himself downgraded to Pes C sometime during his fucking lobo stint in the Air Force --> some chopper rotory blade hitting his leg or something which looks and functions perfectly fine to me. All these bloody fit guys always getting PES C when the unfit ones (aka me) deserve it more.. So annoying.

Still the day was fun albeit really tiring, service at Prego was impeccable if not a tiny bit too intrusive, though of course Sean still had something to say about crinkled tablecloths and the 'caraven of murmurs' that distracted him so. Fussy Birthday Boy ^^.

Now I'm contemplating whether to go for tutorial tomorrow.... such a utter bore. And that 5000 word essay still needs to be done. Ah well, I'll probably go.

Happy Birthday!

Happy 26th Birthday, Boy!
Now you're once again two years older than me, not that it matters:) Everyday I am reminded, constantly, just how much you mean to me.
Finding quiet comfort in your embrace, gentle warmth in your presence, constant longing in your absence.
Happy Birthday dear!

And specially for you: Panorama--Gakuen Heaven Soundtrack.

Saturday, February 10, 2007


Reading stuff like this never fails to make my eyes glaze over and succumb to the overwhelming urge to just drop that piece of incomprehensible garbage and do anything else. And to think I'll need to plow through things like this in the future..

" As Professor Wells has put it, the effect of imposing Corporate Structures on human interactions is to make '2 +2 =5' : it is in the surplus that we find the quintessence of corporateness. A common way of asserting the reality of the additional substance is to make the ontological claim that the world is not exclusively a natural place but contains non-natural items such as souls..."

The Attribution of Culpability to Limited Companies - G Sullivan, 53 Cambridge Law Journal, (Nov 1996) at 532.

And there we have it, legalistic theory, metaphysical sociology and a tad of advanced Maths, all in two sentences. Plowing through this crap to squeeze out 800 words of relatively coherent prose is a weekly uphill task. Rolls eyes.

Now to reward myself with the next volume of Kusatta Ky├┤shi No Houtei Shiki(Bad Teacher's equation) which is an extremely hilarious series done by mangaka Kodaka Kazuma of Kizuna fame. Mm..

Thursday, February 8, 2007

Top or Bottom?

Ah yes the perennial question. I've always been a flex for as long as I can remember, the notion of not confining oneself to a certain 'type' appealing then. After all, putting it in and getting stuffed up are two entirely different sensations that elicit different responses and highs. Weird as it might sound, the orgasmic high derived from being a top (sticking it in) and the orgasmic high from being a bottom (being stuck into) are really quite different.

I'll be lying if I said I enjoy both equally though, something I realised quite early on. Being a Top is fun, the sensation interesting and nice but being a Bottom is incredible, the sensation incredibly intense. Don't get me wrong, it's still nice being a Top once in a while and I can screw when I need to but well getting screwed is what really rocks my socks. I hardly ever cum while screwing as a top unless I'm really horny though as a bottom ah well.. it's just..orgasmic.

So it never bothered me much that I was almost always the bottom in my relationships. It suited me fine, being a Bottom in bed, contrary to popular belief does not make one a passive bed partner, subservient and inactive. It certainly doesn't mean having to act feminine or all sisterly in life, though there are of course those who behave that way and hence the tendency to link the two together. Being a Bottom simply signals a preference for how the person prefers to get off: that he prefers to be fucked. Being fucked does not mean the Bottom cannot and will not take the initiative in bed, anymore than being a Top always means having to be the pro-active one. There is of course an element of vulnerability involved in being a Bottom, though not one that is worrying.

So, it was interesting when I first got together with Sean, a self-declared Top/Flex who professed curiosity at how it would feel like to be a bottom. What puzzled me more was that till we'd gotten together, he'd never done anal with his previous two Ex-es, one of which lasted a year.
"One year, and you guys didn't do it? How come? What on earth did you do?"
"Hrmm just oral lo, 69 and jerk off. That's all."
"But one year! How..."
"Aiya we were young then, so neither of us dared to..."
"JC 2 is young? At that age I.."
"Ya ya you're a pro ok?"
I'm pretty sure he meant 'whore' then, though of course we'd just gotten together and at that stage squabbling is the last thing on your mind.

So naturally when he did ask to be screwed, I questioned him again.
"You sure about this? I'm really more of a Bottom anyway.."
"Ya and I'm more of a Top too, but sometimes, like now, I want you to screw me."
So I did. It was the first time I'd seen anyone cum a little(not the whole works) while being screwed and not realise it and he looked like he was really enjoying it. To some extent, I have only myself to blame for making him a Flex though the flexibility made things really interesting. And I have no doubt he would have forced me sooner or later even if I had rejected him then ^^.

Thankfully, he seemed to be more Top-ish which meant that my soujourns as a Top were generally far and few between except for a brief period in Army(all that exercise..) when I was really horny and agressive and wanted to screw after booking out. Which he found to be a surprisingly refreshing change, though it did lead to some minor terse exchanges when he was feeling Top too and neither of us were willing to budge (ah that silly preoccupation with the need to screw and also the perceived slight to ego(then) from backing down).
"What? Since when did you become so Top? Always wanting to fuck me these days." He'd go when I tried to pin him down.
"Because I really want to."
"Shouldn't have let you screw me last time.. now all you want to do is screw me."
"Who asked you.. You were the one who asked me to screw you that time.. It's too late now."
Then we'd wrestle and sometimes he'd win, sometimes I'd win, the loser getting screwed. But that was then, lately, well for some time now, all I want is to be a Bottom: to be fucked. Like I said, it's just incredibly intense. Incredible, euphoric, estatic, you get my drift.

But what did irk me very slightly then and a bit more, recently, was the weird notion he held that anal was not something which should be done everytime we had an opportunity to be intimate. And I'm not talking about everytime we meet, just the times when the chance to be intimate afforded itself. We definitely don't have sex everytime we meet, sometimes its just for a meal/movie/jog/etc and then there are times when even if we have the chance to be alone together in an opportune setting, there just isn't enough time for a variety of mundane reasons like a lack of time/ need to rush off for dinner, etc. Given that we didn't meet very often to begin with and the chance for being intimate was correspondingly smaller, I could never really phantom his reluctance for anal.

Alright, perhaps my sexual appetite is a little huge and I'm a beast but to me at least, anal is the culmination, the finale of love making that provides a sense of intimacy and intensity which is really not provided by oral. So naturally I quizzed him on that and was rewarded with a variety of answers that I found puzzling and unsatisfactory.
"So why don't you want to do it everytime? I mean we're not like doing this everytime we meet and after all I am the bottom. And you like it don't you?"
Then he'll hem and haw a bit and go. "Ya of course I do, but it's not good for you you know. We can't do it so often."
"Since when is every other time often? And don't you dare tell me it's not good for me, if I don't feel good I'll tell you. I'm not that stupid you know."
And he'll change tack and go, " Ya but is that all that satisfies you? Isn't just being close and cozying up good too? What's wrong with oral?"
Which did always put me in a little bit of a spot cause I had to phrase it properly. "Well, of course I like that too...but you know it's more intimate with anal... and why restrict ourselves when we can do it?"
"Aiya you always want anal... cannot always do it, else it won't be special..."
"NOT SPECIAL>>>?? Whaddya mean... Must do it less often so it becomes special? Doing it all the time doesn't make it any less so...."
And then the conversation would take on various forms.... which might end up in bed or more quizzical looks, frustrated stares, exasperated sighs or stubborn silences.

But this carried on for sometime, he would agree but never really act upon it and after a while sometimes he'd come up with some usual excuse," Hmmm but we already did it last time." "BUT last time was LAST TIME, now is NOW." Stubborn fellow that he is, he would refuse to budge some times. And this is not something one can exactly force. The last straw came on Thursday, fed with the remnants from Tuesday. Then, he had stubbornly refused to do Anal after a particularly wicked finger job which left me ..erm gasping and really horny.
And suddenly, that chap went , "It's not a good day for us today.."
"Huh..." Dishevelled and still not fully cognizant of the immediate surroundings, that statement didn't quite register yet.
"We shouldn't do it, it's not a good day."
" What do you mean it's not a good day? I'm the one getting fucked and it's a perfectly fine day for me, I feel alright. Just screw me." Mild annoyance and horror setting in as the full import of the statement sank in.
"It's not a good day for you, let's do something else.." That stubborn look of his setting in firmly again.
"That's for me to decide! If I don't feel good I'll let you know..I'm not that stupid. Come on..please?" That impending sense of dread.
"Don't want la, I'll make you feel just as good..."And with that he set about with renewed vigour on another part of the male anatomy.
And so I resigned myself to another day of feeling High and dry till he suddenly decided during the second session of fun with lube to ram it in without warning, which while ultimately orgasmic really hurt like hell then.

Then on Thursday, mr Top became Mr Bottom. Which was still fine though the excuse he gave wasn't.
"Hmmm I already did you on Tuesday, today I want you to screw me."
"Huh, why so bottom today, I want my top! Ha ha ok, well we'll take turns then."
"Don't want I'm very bottom today. Anyway you've already had it once this week that's enough."
Which left me flabbergasted. I know my appetite for sex (and A in particular) might be a little vociferous but once a week (if more opportunities are made available) sure as hell wasn't enough. "WHAT?? Once a week? That's not enough, why do you think it's enough..?"
"Mmm, let's talk about that later. Come fuck me." He went in that voice of his. And seeing that he was so bloody horny, I made love to him.
The second time round, I tried to convince him to be the Top, still hoping that I'd get screwed by him but he remained obstinate. "Told you I'm feeling bottom today." Which exasperated me a tiny bit and I decided to redirect that pent up sexual desire elsewhere; after some nasty fingering, proceeded to fuck him hard even though he hadn't quite agreed to it.
But he hardly protested and was incredibly horny, cumming soon after changing to the personal favourite "Plunge" position.
"Wow that was fast...see that position's really intense isn't it?"
"'re so hot as a Top today.."
"Well I did want to be fucked today..but you.."
"Mmm..ah.. shit need to change the sheets later."
"Later...I'm not done with you yet."

So later at night, as we sat at a bench in Taka munching through some buns from the Crystal Jade bakery (which were really mediocre IMO) somehow (I can't quite recall how now) the subject of anal and the optimal frequency popped up.
And I just burst out, "ONCE a week is NOT enough, what were you thinking? We don't meet up very often to begin with, don't do it every time we meet and now you tell me ONCE a week is enough?" (Which was partly the inner primate in me speaking too.)
He looked momentarily stunned at the ferocity of the outburst. "But it's not good for you..." came the automatic, tired sounding response.
Which I attacked with great gusto. "What do you mean it's not good for ME? I'm the bottom. I'll decide whether I can take it or not. If I can't I'll tell you. I'm not that stupid. And it's not like doing it everyday is going to make me incontinent or shit like that.."
"Don't but me. I told you before why I want it and it's not like you don't like it. You DO like it, don't you?" Glare glare.
"Yes I do but isn't it..."
"No, it isn't. Once a day will be the minimum and we hardly meet any way so don't say crap like we've already done it this week ..." (well perhaps I got a liiiiittle carried away)
"ONCE A DAY?? Everyday?" He interjected, eyes widening in genuine surprise and on hindsight perhaps a little horror.
"Well erm.. once a day will be just nice and I mean we can do it more times sometimes I don't mind but ya.."
"How many times do you want it a day?" His eyebrows were raised so high now, I felt a stab of doubt and irritation coupled with a fleeting moment of confusion.
"I mean.. we won't be doing it everyday anyway, even next time, we'll just come back from work and be too shag anyway..but my point is you don't need to restrict or hold yourself back unnecessarily for such stupid reasons...If we want to do it just do it and besides ..err.. I don't think we'll settle for once on the weekends."
"I see, alright."He runs a hand through his hair. "Any other requirements Sir? Shall we sign a contract?"
"I'm bloody serious damn it, stop joking!" Idiot never knows when to stop joking, I think.
"Alright, Alright. I got it, I won't hold back now, I'll screw you everytime now."
"Except when I don't feel good, then I'll let you know.."
"Nah, even then. I'll still do it anyway."
"Ok ok!"

Leaning back he exhales, "You should put this in your blog."
And it is my turn to be surprised. "But why? This kind of stuff is erm.. a bit too personal you know."
" Got to be firm in your resolve to be raped every day."
"No la, just joking. So serious can't take a joke..."
"Idiot! Always joking about stuff when I'm dead serious..."
"But ya, I wasn't joking about the blog part."
"So that I will be.. erm.. reminded about it."
"Don't worry I'll remind you about it.. You can be sure of that.."
He gives me another one of his quizzical looks.
"Ya, knowing you, you will. But just put it up k, so I can read it."
And you threw me a lopsided grin as I swatted you hard on your shoulder.

So, here you go.^^
And yes, I'll never let you forget it.

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Paper Cuttings.

Not the kiddy crude type we used to do during Art & Craft lessons, mutilating bits of paper in a determined effort to come up with something remotely representing a mutated goldfish. I'm talking about the real stuff, done by those Chinese craftsmen with coloured paper and that old fashioned sharp metal scissors, the kind I used to find in my Granny's sewing box, just bigger.
There's some Chinese crafts fair/show at Raffles City shopping center as I'm sure most of the locals (who do get out) would know that displays a wide range of merchandise from Stone-carved teapots to Chinese paintings and exquisite porcelain/ china. But the one thing that really caught my attention was the Paper Cuttings corner. There is something so attractive about paper cuttings, so intricate and delicately beautiful, it is art that never ceases to amaze and enthrall me. Cutting paper is easy, cutting paper to turn it into some thing entirely different, life like scenes of animals, flowers and scenery that are as vivid as they are delicate is most certainly not.

So the first time I walked past the store, I dithered but I didn't really stop to buy anything, partly cause I was late and partly due to the lack of a price tag on the nicely framed pieces. I came back last Saturday when the family walked to City Hall after a gluttonous fest at Sichuan Dou Hua at Grand Plaza Hotel which was really good value for money. Checked out the prices but didn't buy again, partly due to fact that the mother was asking alot of stupid questions like (You really cut this yourself, not machine made? in bastardized Chinese and English. which went something like : Ni zhen de Jian Zhi ji? Not machine jian? --You really cut yourself? Not Machine cut? *Cringe*) but mainly due to the fact that I didn't have any cash on hand then(didn't know you could pay by NETs).
I came down again today, determined to get the stuff I wanted. After a very pleasant surprise at his place (It was great, dear, but give me some warning in the future, I thought I was going to die. ^^) we went down to Komala's Indian Vegetarian fast food at the basement of Peninsular Plaza for dinner. That place is a real gem, you can walk right past it and not know of the number of nice eateries below. It didn't disappoint even after all these years, cheap, tasty (take the south Indian set..V1 or something) and filling to boot, plus it's in town.
So anyway I returned to the spot, Sean in tow, intending to get one for myself and one for Sean for his upcoming birthday cum V-day gift. Even though we had agreed at the start of the year we wouldn't be giving presents this year since we were both so bloody broke, me from my a little excessive spending on manga (Which has been reduced drastically) and him on god knows what (alright food and lodging). But still I felt that a nicely framed paper cutting was rather beautiful and something which I knew he'd appreciate and I didn't mind spending on. Old habits die hard.
Was asking him to choose between a couple and he was still under the impression that it was for someone else but the one he picked out was really nice and I got the guy to frame the one I wanted.

His. Mine.

And then he gave me another surprise. I'd always been looking at another paper cutting that looked absolutely stunning. Apart from its circular border and the centric scheme of the entire cutting which appeared to revolve around a single peony in the center which I found highly attractive, the unique navy blue colour also grabbed my attention. But it was rather huge and more importantly, it cost a sizable $68 bucks. Sean saw it too and commented that it was a really nice piece. To which I wistfully agreed and lamented the price but we both stood there admiring it, like some kid at the candy store. Then, he suddenly asked, Do you want me to get that for you?

"Ah, it's really nice but it's very expensive and I thought we decided no gifts this year?" even though my greedy little heart was already going, Oh yes PLEASE.

"Nah, it's alright." Turning, he asked the delighted guy to wrap it up after bargaining it down to $60 and proceeded to pay for it.

His present to me. ( 100 Butterflies the guy said, I counted till 68 and gave up but I don't doubt him.)

Then he handed it over to me and said, 'Happy V-day, must hang it up k?' So as much as I wanted to wrap his framed paper cutting nicely, I couldn't help blurting out that I'd actually bought one for him. To which he looked genuinely surprised.

Is it? Isn't this for XXX?

'Hrrmm no, that's the other unframed cutting.'

"Oh, thanks." And he looked genuinely pleased.

Later over coffee at Gloria Jeans I asked him to take out his paper cutting as I wanted to snap a shot of it. Musing over it he asked one of his out of the blue questions as he is wont to do, though this time round I'll admit he did see the very same thing I saw.

"So which one are you supposed to be?" He asks pointing at the magpies(?)

"Erm.. the one on top. I mean the branch."

"Hey." comes the reply, I think he missed the slip. "That's exactly what I think too."

"Hmmm, whys that?"

"Cause whenever I'm talking, you're thinking about something else."

"... Idiot. I should be the one saying that."

And I cuffed him playfully while he grinned and reclined back on the sofa. Ah, the little things in life. Thank you.

Monday, February 5, 2007

Pleasurable Pain

Two consecutive nights of 20 mins jogging with wimpy 2 kg wrist weights strapped on is extremely exhausting for one as terribly unfit as I. By the second night, my legs feel like lead and the heart feels like it's going to burst at the end of the run.

Jogging is such a brainless, monotonous affair but one that is very versatile. You can run anytime, anywhere and do it by yourself. And therein lies its innate appeal, the simple act of focusing on one's breathing and just running without the need to think, the salty tang of sweat, even the dull throbbing aches that flare and fade away... all a form of therapeutic pain.

What is it about physical exertions and the pleasure or gratification we derive from mild pain? At the risk of sounding like an S&M lover, which I regret to inform you I am not, when reduced to its most basic level, Some forms of pain beget pleasure. Which probably explains that ubiquitous phrase: No pain No gain. The forms of pleasure obtained naturally differ too; the feel-good sense of physical satisfaction obtained after a hard workout is different in form and intensity from say the orgasmic high during love making and the accompanying warm, hazy afterglow.

So I shall jog more. Because the physical aches and discomforts are but a small price to pay for the pleasure obtained.


Ta-Dah! Got my grubby hands on Aiteru Door Kara Shitsurei Shimasuyo - Into Your Heart Through the Door!

At long last... a small new scanlation community,Eastern Blue, deciding to pick up and scanlate the remaining two books in the Close the Last Door series which I'd kinda resigned myself to not ever getting to read due to June Manga's inability to track down the production materials. Well, well and what do you know, the scanlating community is efficient indeed.

And for free at that. (Though if they ever publish it i'll probably just get it--> just for this series.) If the blurb for this book is accurate, this will probably be the first genuine incest yaoi manga ><. Hmm but I'm more interested in Honda Kenzou and Nagai Atsushi and this book is still a necessary bridge to that.

Without further ado, Ittadakimasu!

Coming up....

Saturday, February 3, 2007

Silent Night

I've never been fond of Hotpots or steamboat cuisine in any form possibly due to the annual Chinese New Year phobia of being confronted with a steaming pot of broth in which anything and everything goes in, gets boiled to death, and is often forgotten, with the end result looking like some toxic mini nuclear holocaust. Bits of egg, burnt tofu, a couple of really over boiled prawns and god knows what semi-solid greenish grey goo stuck to the sides of the pan. Shudder.

But JuJu Hokkaido hotpot at Paradiz Center was surprisingly good with a filling set that sets one back by about $25+++ per person for dinner. Which I reckon was good value for money given the food we got and the service rendered. We decided to give it a go, partly because we intended to go for dessert later (though we were nicely stuffed after that) but mainly cause we'd always walked past that huge poster advertising the huge sets (Which were really decently sized after all) without ever giving it a try. Admittedly, it never looked very Japanese to begin with and dinner quickly confirmed that. Staffed almost exclusively by PRCs, you could almost imagine yourself being in a Beijing eatery. Even the decor and service felt distinctly Chinese. Not that it mattered, the food and service were good which is what really counts.

This also has to be the first place where they explain so many things to you voluntarily from the different sets and the dishes in them, to how to cook/eat your appetisers and the different desserts, etc. What did puzzle me was the way they constantly talked to me in Chinese, all the way from the point the waitress started explaining about the sets and the various dishes to when I asked for the bill. I mean I didn't think I look like the type who understands Chinese well.

Most Singaporean Chinese speaking Chinese I encounter inevitably end up trying to converse with me in English, even if they have great difficulty doing so. "Cause you look so Ang Mo pai." Sean always says. Apparently not ang mo enough for them. And what was even weirder was the fact they almost always spoke to Sean in English. He who speaks Chinese at home.
"I look very Cheena meh?"
" Must be."
"And you. Must be that fako Aussie aura about you." "War Der.(his Aussie version of water)" I couldn't help resist ribbing.
" War der, what's wrong? That's how they pronounce it not War Ther (emphasis on T). War TTTher." He repeats for additional emphasis on the 'Singapore' version.
"It should be Woorter, emphasis on the o and not the T, stupid."
And we both argue for a bit trying to pronounce water correctly, get confused and give up after I point out that his prawn looks positively baked. But anyway, I guess the good thing about having your own personal hotpot is you decide just what goes in when and for how long and with it you eliminate the need to ever have to dig up someone else's forgotten goo, nuked to a slimy mess. Unless that is your thing in which I cordially invite you to the extended family's reunion dinner.

But yeah if you dig hot pots, you can check that place out, go early cause it gets really packed later.

So it was later that I took the NEL back with Sean and he drove me back home cause when you're unable to meet up frequently, any time spent together is always precious. I'd just finished shoving the books into the bag and removing the laptop to make space when I turned to kiss him goodbye. Not too short, not too long, well alright long is always nice but sufficient to convey the simple message.

I suppose I did notice from the corner of my eye the presence of someone in the background when I was turning around though it didn't register then. It was only after we disengaged that I saw the figure of a teenage boy slowly jogging past the car, mere meters away.
"Shit! That boy saw us! And he looks like he's from Cat High."
" So? Does it matter?" I queried.
He turned and looked at me. Then grinned. "No, it doesn't."
Atta boy!

Friday, February 2, 2007

Winter Wind.

It never fails to strike me as strange how easily people change, how swiftly relationships are transformed. The familiar becomes strange, sometimes so irrevocably different you wonder whether you ever knew that person to begin with.

How weird it is to look back now at memories, times once familiar that now feel like they belonged to another person, at another time. But people change, that is inevitable, a change that is so total it exposes those actions and words to be a lie. Why profess eternal adoration and loyalty even when unwanted and change into something I don't even recognise now? It's so plastic now, shrouded with that veneer of artificiality.

Something from that, while the intensity was always frightening, the affection was real, mutating into something extending barely beyond hi-byes that feels strangely stretched, is something I'd rather not have. To be fair, people change, for whatever reason and looking back now there were times I was overtly harsh, even downright hostile. Perhaps I should have done it differently but the reasons why I did that I still stand by. You should know very well what they are.

Which makes all those actions, those repeated utterances ring loud and hollow, I told you frankly didn't I? That you would never always feel that way, despite your loud protestations and how I'd be the one to act that way. But of course actually experiencing it is never quite the same, leaving that strange bitter aftertaste palpable on one's tongue. But I was never able to provide you with the kind of affection that you desperately needed, which I am happy that you have finally found (in spite of your supremely loud and insistent announcements to the contrary, again.) but it still seems strange that things have turned out this way. Superficial and artificial.

Something I find difficult to accept after all that we've gone through. Or maybe it just didn't mean much to you. No, not for old time's sake my friend for that is a flogged carcass. And if that is the way you want it, then I shall let it be. Unrequited(or perceived to be unrequited) love is a tragedy, possibly maybe even worthy of corrections and amends for love is a quirky thing, incapable of definition that drives people to do the strangest things. And something not worth giving up upon.

But unrequited friendship is an oxymoron, an anomaly. Because contrary to belief, even friendships require effort to be sustained and to develop. Unless your definition of friendship is so loosely defined to encompass such perfunctory exchanges because really,that is all we do now. But if that's the way you want it superficial, artificial, skin-deep, that's the way it'll be then. I will choose to remember the person that once was, the memories that once were, shards of star dust in the burgeoning universe. Precious, fleeting and forever lost.