i n t r o d u c i n g…

in your favourite club/s, pub/s, restaurant/s, hair-salon/s, spa/s, gym/s and business centres soon.

copyrights of Mj; do not take without permission

12 s.i 2nd anniversary

courtesy of Vincent Paul – Life Thru My Lens

the story of two

2CLOSE
2FAR
2BEAUTIFUL
2TOUCH
2KISS
t’embrasse

2LATE
2TAKEN
2HAVE
2KINDRED
2FAMILIAR
j’aime

2CUTE
2bSTR8
2CARE
2HAVE
2LOVE
j’adore

Professional Party Purveyor

People always askme what I do. I juggle between ‘nothing’, ‘looking for a job’ and ‘taking a break from life’; Am just by and large – a loser; yet there I was sipping sour champagne and diluted fruit martinis with beautiful people who are actually not stuck up! In this city (full) of angels, when one smiles into your eyes, you must make sure she saw you check her out; that’s your cue because you know that in our straight straight world, it’s not possible that she is one. Sexuality is so fluid these days. To quote Alice (Leisha Hailey): “you’re straight until you’re not; you’re gay until you’re not”.

When your weekend starts on Wednesday, you know your social stars are somewhere up there (or that you’ve been partying TOOmuch) with the gods – Dream, (self) Destruction, Desire and Delirium when she was Delight. Talk. Big Talk. Yes. Welcome to my world, so far. So Huge. When I tell you, black is not back, ya gotta listen to me. If you have to; tease the eyes with a fine thin white faux-croc skin belt. Everyone’s clubbin in blue denims and a lil black top. No. That’s very DV8 eight years ago. If you have to make it denim, get one with character; one that people can remember you by. So you wanna try something else? Thai pants? HOT! Yes, so hot. So HOT 24 months back when CyberJaya ReGENERATE party got raided by the cops stopping people in the gents for urine samples. Pink is not plum. Leave it to your Barbie-loving nieces and nephews. I picked up the whites, really. From a lady I met in Singapore when I was there in March. I’ve never seen such crisp fresh whiteness so fine on a body. Just think black light. Zara however has brown tan on its window, which by the way is – gorrrrgeous. How could it be not? Think 1984 Montrachet, cigars, plush vintage leather club chairs in autumn colours.

Saw FABULOUS Freda in Liq; shimmied with stunning fallen angels 12 hours ago and guess what? Pissed someone off ah-gainn. And I got all that I wanted to feel – loved, to be extremely hated, to be lusted after and to care less for a change. Brava?

Sad I think.

Am I thinking?

A kindred soul called from home to catch up on our Wed-Thurs nights. Although geographically divided, we roam our own city and do what some people do after twelve in Kuala Lumpur on a typical Saturday nuit. Jammed up in traffic at two in the morning, breezing through door bitches with a million ringgit smile, lose the chip on the shoulder and gaze her the 2second-appraisal to estimate her fluidity. The 2sec rule is created by a social genius.

And my friend, she proudly declared: “two!” – hook, line dLL (dan lain-lain).

“Sorry babe…”, I told her: “Three”

We burst out rolling on our own floor with laughter. “dat means you win!” She says.

The guitar intro of Rufus Wainwright’s Hallelujah stinging in my ears. It’s true. The last line of the 2nd, 3rd and 4th verses. Who says love is not a victory march? The one who marries its love-perfect is victorious. And if she is married, my grave would not be my wedding bed. There are other fishes in the sea; the deeper you delve, the more delightful the delectable dories (like the blue fish in Nemo) you discover; short term memory enclosed. You must remember this: leave them wanting more. It is a cold and broken hallelujah.

The city doesn’t sleep anymore. I’m trying to dream a little dream. How many miles must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Or was it: you should never judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in her Mahnolos. In my case, I’m Carrie-Bradshaw-ing around in heels; a lil hop, a lil skip. I’m lovin the high life (as I am very very short), livin the music (cause I am very very deaf) and so ready to have my life be eaten by the troll under brick bridge. Smoke and Mirrors. Creation of illusions. Fact crossed Fictions, Love and heartbreaks in mobile digital shorts, five cointreau shots, four lychee martinis, three very chic chicas, two maryjanes and a diet pill on my tongue. And the fun is just only startin …

Yours truly,
Professional Party Purveyor.

S N A T C H T H E F T

You’ve seen it, you read it in your daily tabloid, you cursed the thief who is usually a drug addict (unlike Aladdin) and praised the relevant authorities for their relentless ambition to create awareness. Yes, awareness. Now everyone’s clutching closely and tightly to their LVs; following How-to steps they probably have read off a stale girlie mag while waiting for their turn at the clinic hopefully they can convince their quack of faux food poisoning. I’d clutch my stomach for a different reason. Have you seen our sidewalks? In some places its about one feet wide, some places where international visitors might stumble onto could be about 15ft wide. Along Damansara Utama, a six year old can walk on it provided he is not burdened by the buku latihans which would only weigh him down to his death. The pedestrian walkway behind Jalan Sultan Ismail (in front of UOA building) vary in sizes. Our sidewalks, dear Mister Civil-Servant-No.1 – is so not wide enough for your people to feel safe. Snatch thieves normally work in twos – One with the mens rea who controls the motorbike, the other actus reus. How easier it would have been if you gave us enough space to walk on the taxes we pay? How much more difficult it would have been for snatching motorcyclists to zoom through a sidewalk (think Orchard Road) without the risk of crashing into possible tort and criminal offences that would include – motorvehicle accident, manslaughter, damage to public property, terror and theft. HaiyaH – you tell me…

Alphabeth of the Day – D

Debauchery, someone says. It made me run to dictionary.com for a clearer picture. It’s Ella Fitzgerald whispering in my ears, bewitched bothered and bewildered. Am I? I’m in a whirlpool. Of confusions. The kind that one creates purposely though vaguely knowing the end result. When all the goodness is staring in your face, you RUN! You turn to the horizon and run towards the sunset. Men are not a new sensation. Its true, but you will probably hate me for saying it but I’m just singin after Miss Ella F. When I said I seemed to have lost myself in the game of love; I did that on purpose. I wanted to feel all that a MegRyanchickflicks have shown me over the years. I wanted to feel loved, to be extremely hated, to be lusted after and to care less for a change. Real life romance isn’t the same as it is in HBO. Its not just the flowers and chocolates. I get turned on just receiving emails from fridae. Don’t you just wish that mobile technology applied the Audi-Oh concept? People sleep with their little mobile-devil, tell time by it, make conversations about it, capture quirky moments with the 128mb ram and the devastation of losing it could spell M U R D E R. Can you imagine the amount of data one could store in a mobile devil these days? Ipod has the 40GB, just imagine. Forty gig of memory embedded in your palm. That’s your MyKad, your mobile phone, mini-iPod and your next award-winning masterpiece literature – They got to increase the intensity of the vibrate mode. Blue tooth technology should be able to remotely control. If you know what I mean. It is the very source of divorces, break-ups, urgencies, emergencies and happiest moments. It spreads news like a bushfire on a dry dry mid-summer’s day. Lies, Lies, all Lies. You tell it so well you believe it yourself. Depravity, Decadence, Dissipation, Degradation, Degeneration, Dishonesty, Debauchery. Just playing with the words you know – stick and stones may break my bones…

come fly with me..

blessed is right about that emptiness in my head, its gone down to my pussy…

oops

too much information?

F L A S H B A C K . . . . . .
My weekend consisted of white bread and beer; just like the song. My body is aching – battered, bruised and bushed; my heart is in someone’s lil manicured hands, eviscerated from me and my soul – I met them all on Friday at Frangi. It was a delicious weekend – and its only Saturday afternoon now. I don’t want to recuperate, I don’t want to stay home and I don’t want to sleep the rest of the weekend away. I reconciled with a friend, found new ones, cherish the old and somewhere along the way – seemed to have lost myself in the game of love. I want to cry, I want to laugh, I want to slice my wrist open just to see what would happen next. I am pushing and pushing myself further into oblivion. Superficial Surfaces void of Substances. Self-Gratifying. Sickening. Satisfying. Spellbound and at Sea. Whatever that means. Goin trawlin tonite… C ya.

Narcissus
narcis·sist n.
narcis·sistic adj.
narcis·sisti·cal·ly adv.