21 July 2006

Bush the Player

And it appears Bush is quite a ‘player’. Not only did he try to ‘chat up’ Blair, but Bush also tried to give Merkel (German Chancellor) a back message. (Pictures from ZDF)

"Here Merkie, I see you're in need of some loving, baby."

"OH, UM GOTTES WILLEN--?!"

"Don't touch me, you freak!"

A shocked Merkel responds with a move she learnt during ‘anti-rape’ education in school.
Now, in international politics a lot of attention is paid to 'ettiquet' and appearances. A move or a word can be scrutinised for its significance in the relationship between two countries.

Symbolically, Merkel--representing Germany--just repelled Bush's 'warm' gestures... They did say she was a strong chancellor! : )

Oh, this is too much!

Just classic!!!

"Do you love me?" (Picture from REUTERS)

My goodness, I know Bush and Blair are close, but how close???
Look at the pink tie, and the meaningful silent gaze between their eyes.

This is just classic! And even better because it’s all true! Read here for the whole dialogue.

---

Bush: Yo, Blair. How are you doing?

Blair: I'm just...

Bush: You're leaving?

Blair: No, no, no not yet.

[…]

Bush: […] Thanks for the sweater - it's awfully thoughtful of you.

Blair: It's a pleasure.

Bush: I know you picked it out yourself.

Blair: Oh absolutely - in fact I knitted it!!!

[...]

(Talking about a third guy, most likely Syrian President Bashir Assad)

Bush: Yeah, yeah, he is sweet

Blair: He is honey.


---------------------------------------------

Maybe that's why these world leaders enjoy it so much at Camp David.

Next time they'll be exchanging underwears...

Being gay is ‘in’…

…on TV

“You know, you're almost hipper and cooler for being gay nowadays. It used to be that if you wanted to hip up your image, you'd get yourself a drug problem. Now it's be gay or bi. It's kinda nice to see the tolerance go full circle now.”

Dharma and Greg

Started watched this ‘new’ comedy last week, and I just can’t get enough of it! It’s really, really funny, nothing compared to Friends, which after a while gets repetitive and sort of difficult to laugh at. With Dharma and Greg, I find myself laughing with the characters. It’s clever, pokes fun at the live between the married life of two completely different people, from different social backgrounds and values, and their families.

And the main guy, Greg, is sooo good looking too… with that dark, silent, but sophisticated look and flair. Hmmm…

20 July 2006

Walk on the beach




The beach was empty tonight. Maybe because of the overcast skies the sunbathing horde had gone home early. Didn't bother me. Enjoy it even more when it's empty.

Took a long walk close to where the waves ended, or started, touching the sand...depends how you look at it. A number of times I was lost in thought, lost in my walking that I didn't notice that my shoes had become soaked. Thank goodness they're waterproof.

Wanted to get away from home, and tonight was the second time this week. Not been doing much lately, at home the whole day, writing, surfing and translating, so after a while it gets stuffy. And when brother comes home the whole mood gets even worse. Not just the stench of cigarretes, but the non-talking, or when we do talk, the really bad attitude and vibrations. Had to get away.

I walked and walked, not sure where I'd end up. I could have walked on and one, had it not been the darkening skies which told me it was close to midnight, or later... A lot of things went through my mind... there were some people at the beach still, the majority couples, some familes, others groups of friends. They seemed all so happy, and together (as in with someone else). Whether it's hugging, playing in the sand, playing ball, or taking a dive, or even just waddling barefeet in the water, they all had someone to talk to, someone to share the experience with.

I looked around me, and there was no one there. No one to share my thoughts, no one to share my feelings with. So I guess that's why I'm writing this.

The beach. Somewhere I go often because it let's me forget how caught up in my thoughts I am, and reminds me how small I stand in the big wide world. Somewhere I go when I'm lonely, but ironically a place where the emptiness simply screams more loneliness. Somehow there is comfort in that loneliness.

The beach. A place where I touched, and was touched in return once, a long, long time ago...

Sexual intolerance

Let's talk about...sex! : )


Heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, incest, bestiality, paedosexuality, SM…theses are all outings of sexuality, perhaps one of the most basic instincts of man (and woman). But a lot of taboo surrounds these different forms of sexual expressions, some stemming from centuries of religious indoctrination, others from cultural inhibitions, but all are repressive. And throughout history, extremes of sexual repression have led to persecutions of sexual minority who are deemed as ‘sick’, ‘unnatural’ and ‘deviating from the norm’.

But what is the norm? Titus Rivas, writes in ‘Sexual Intolerance’, that conceptions of what are ‘normal’ and ‘natural’ are merely human/social constructions, based on existing ideas and a system of values that are dominant.

“The religious rejection of deviant sex[ual behaviour] is namely not further reasonably justified, and is based on voluntary subjection to dogmas, in a way that morally no one should force that subjugation.


The apparent “biological” rejection is not sustainable, because with this one in fact very ‘un-biologically’ restricts sexuality to reproduction, and naturalistic arguments above all, always fail.


And the egocentric rejection [based on what I like is good, and what I do not like must be bad] is of course completely objectionable, and in that sense really [the one idea] that [which] is “repulsive”.

These ideas are ever-changing, and which may explain why different cultures, or even eras within one culture, have different attitudes towards sexuality, as an act, its implications, and the need for openness, or abstinence, in this regard. We should have an open mind, like towards all else, and not discriminate or so readily label or stereotype others with ‘different’ sexuality, or expressions of their sexuality:

“The sexual revolution is all but out of date, but actually not even complete yet. Morally, tolerance must be further developed into all forms of voluntary sexuality and abstinence.

The boundary of our sexual tolerance must not lie with what the construction of the sexual organs suggest, or what is written in the Bible or some other sacred book, let alone [be determined] by our personal preference or choice. That boundary must lie with unwanted sex and unwanted abstinence. Rationally, there is no good argument to differentiate between natural and unnatural sexuality, but there is a moral [reason] to differentiate between forced and free sex (and abstinence).”

Sex is a choice, and sexuality is a preference. Freedom of choice also means the freedom from interference. One should be free to choose, and therefore free from interference, and this right is mutual in relation to others with which we live with in society:

“People should have the possibility to choose for themselves things which other find disgusting or decadent, as long as, [and] at the very least, they do not hurt others.”

Sex is an intimate and deep act of expression, and sexuality an intimate and personal form of our identity. It is an experience to be enjoyed, to be indulged in by (both) parties involved, for it is a form of contact between people that invokes mental, physical and spiritual unions, producing affirmations of the very emotions and desires that make us who we really are—very human. When sex is, or becomes, dehumanising, then there is something seriously wrong:


“Sexual toleration comes from the moral principle that one, without good reason, may not interfere in the private life of another, a reason which sexually does not exist, unless it concerns sexual practices that are damaging for [others].


Sexual freedom in practice is really not just limited by intolerance, but also by forms of compulsion, exploitation and violence. Unforunately, such misunderstandings are in practice sometimes abused by intolerant people to stigmatise generally innocent, bona fide cases (for example erotica or paedophilia). But that does not take away the fact that it concerns serious offences cannot be denied or trivialised. Instead, one should see that sexual freedom as well as sexual tolerance implies the fight against sexual compulsion, violence and exploitation. There is not a single conflict here, but they are both expressions of unconditional respect for everyone’s sexual freedom.”



An example of how the need for more sexual tolerance, and the revolution that is taking place in the sexual arena of society is being twisted by same that blame openness about sexuality for ‘increasing’ deviant sexual behaviour like sexual violence and incest:

“Sexual violence is a century-old phenomenon. Nowadays there is more attention for it, but that is not to say that incest is taking place more often. That is because incest occurs in environments where sexual repression is still festively upheld. There is no factual basis to paint rapists and perpetrators of incest as natural children of the sexual revolution.”
Gerry van de List, ‘Lots of sex, little damage’, 27 October 2001, Elsevier


There are lots of countries and cultures in the world where sex is still a taboo, and therefore anything remotely sexual is countered with harsh punishments and frowned upon. Sexual persecution still takes place, in the form of discrimination based on sexual orientation, forced (fe-/male) circumcisions, while many are subjected to forced sexual exploitation and violence against their own free wills. It appears the more open a society is about itself, and attributes of its own identity, the better it is able to vent frustrations and tensions. And sex, and sexuality, form core foundations of how a society sees itself, the relationship between the sexes, and implicitly the power relations, as well as balance, between the sexes. No surprise then, that the UK—a culture and people with a ‘stiff upper lip’ and based on ‘keeping up appearances’— has the highest rate of teenage pregnancy, while the Netherlands—a culture and people where tolerance (not in the ‘zero’ sense) and openness to difference form foundations of civic values— has the lowest.

“Partly because of the emancipation of women, extensive sexual education, and self-regulation, moral decay has significantly remained limited. It is not coincidental that the number of teenage pregnancies in the libertarian Netherlands is relatively small. The sexualisation [of society] has not undermined civlisation. It [sexualisation] has strengthened it [civilisation], through an expansion of freedom of choice and the acceptance of the lives of many. Grosso modo it so applies: the more sex shops a country has, the more pleasant, freer and more civilised it is.”

And believe me when I say there are lots of sex shops in the Netherlands (or so I see…) Thank goodness for the Netherlands, sexual taboos are being broken in all sorts of ways:

“Without exaggerating, you can say that the Netherlands has […] become—in all layers of the population—the most sexualised society in the history of the western civilisation. Never before have there been so many opportunities to talk about sex, to bring sex into the picture, to practice one’s own sexual preference; never before has sexual fantasy been so stimulated.”

What a difference from those prune religious day of the past—not more than half a century ago, I might add:

“The older Netherlander who can still remember how sexual intercourse was associated with sin and disaster in Catholic and Calvinist circles, can only be jealous of the youth of today, the majority of which is liberated from similar oppressive conventions.”


UPDATE
21 July 2006
Something related to sexual tolerance and religion. Generally (north) Asian countries and societies are less dominated by religion, and this may be a reason why Ang Lee--director of gay-themed movies like The Wedding Banquet and Brokeback Mountain-- says Asians are more tolerant of homosexuality.

19 July 2006

Gay Iranian teens

It was exactly a year ago that two gay teens (Mahmoud Asgari and Ayaz Marhoni) were hung publicly in Iran because they were…gay.

A number of events all over the world are being held to commemorate the deaths of these teens. The Iranian government had initially tried to blacken their names by saying they were rapists of children, but Outrage! uncovered the truth that they were in fact lovers.

There will be a commemoration ceremony at the Homo-monument in Amsterdam tonight, at 22.00

Pictures of the hanging can be seen here.

And our minister for Immigration actually thought that being gay was not a good reason for seeking asylum...

UPDATE 21 July 2006

The hanged teens may have been minors! More background news on the hangings the debate surrounding it:

At the London event, OutRage founder and worldwide protest organizer Tatchell claimed that a year-long investigation into this case has revealed that the Iranian governments allegations against the two hanged teens were riddled with contradictions, lies."

"At first it was claimed by Iranian officials that they were aged 18 and 19, then that they were 19 and 21, then aged 18 and 20, and finally they made the claim that they were both above 18 at the time of their alleged crimes," Tatchell said. "However, the best evidence is that both youths were aged 17 when they were executed and therefore minors, aged 15 or 16, at the time of their alleged crimes. And by instituting charges of kidnap and rape, the Iranian authorities apparently hope to discredit the victims, discourage public protests and deflect international condemnation."




18 July 2006

Loving you, loving me: Chapter 9

The next chapter of the story is online! Should appear in Nifty shortly.
Scroll down a little bit more for pictures and the poem.

: )

17 July 2006

News on the paedophile party

On my main blog you can read more about the court action against the PNVD (Partij voor Naastenliefde, Vrijheid en Diversiteit; Party for Brotherly love, Freedom and Diversity), and a piece on common misconceptions of paedophilia.


16 July 2006

Alternative Amsterdam!


These people are not just drinking coffee in many of Amstedam's "coffeeshops".


Mushrooms of an alternative kind.



Club in Amsterdam's De Wallen (Red Light District).

Of course there's more to Amsterdam and the Netherlands than drugs, sex and gays.
Please visit my main blog for more "touristy pictures". Posted by Picasa

Gaymsterdam

The main gay street in Amsterdam's "Pink Light District", Warmoesstraat. Posted by Picasa

"Not much better"

My cousin and his wife arrived Friday, and I've been showing them around a bit. Mostly doing and seeing things I've done and seen before, but I enjoy it when people come and visit. I like it to take people around, give guides and insight and make people's time as enjoyable as possible. And we had a great time and lots of fun together.


Like all things, all's not so fine and dandy...

I've been suspecting it for a while, but my cousin and his wife confirmed it. I know that my dad's health is not looking good, but it turns out that my mum's health " is not much better". They wouldn't say what it is exactly (since they think my mum should be the one to tell me), but it's supposed similar to what my dad is suffering from, which is (liver) cancer.

I'm not sure whether to describe it as a surprise or a shock...I think more the former, since my mum has always lived a 'healthy' and balanced life. Sometime ago my mum did mention that she had to go into hospital to "remove a lump". My cousin and wife did say the condition is stable now, much it is with my dad, but you never know with cancer. You can remove the infected cells, you can do chemo, and get rid of all the symptoms...but then you can never cure the cause. They urged me to go visit them whenever I have the chance, otherwise .......

I spoke to mum today, and asked about her health. It wasn't confrontational, like "what cancer do you have?"; but more subtle, like "how's your health nowadays?" She didn't say much, and there seemed to be a little silence before she said that it's fine (or perhaps I imagined it?), and that she's doing well. I don't want to force it out of her, since I want her to tell me in her own time, and when she's comfortable with it. I can understand why she's not saying anything...because she doesn't want me to worry too much, since, knowing me, I worry a lot.

But one thing that does bother me a bit is why they (my dad included) think that they need to 'hide' it from us. I mean, I must know sooner or later, and I'd prefer sooner. In a way, it hurts more than the surprise of knowing that they are so ill. Before I hung up the phone I told her to take care, and deep inside I meant it more than I've ever meant it before.

She also said that things are well at her work, and that her new job is less demanding and that her colleagues are friendly and helpful. And that she gets to see the sea every day at dawn and dusk on her way to work. That's good, I said, since it's an escape, if only a temporary one from the tensions and state of 'cold war' at home with my dad. I told her, quite frankly, and for the nth time, that it's not good for either of them to live in conditions like that; not good for their wellbeing, and for their healths. In my mind I thought that perhaps the depressing mood at home for the last couple of years, and now their lives apart under one roof may have a lot to do with their deterioting conditions of health.

I'm not sure how the news has affected me till now, since the past few days I've had little 'alone time' and been really tired from all the travelling. Though when I lie in bed at night and when I wake up in the morning, for a few moments my thoughts go out to my mum and dad...good thoughts, compassionate thoughts. I know it won't cure them or change them dramatically, but it gives hope.

And now I 'know', I guess I'll need to 'prepare' myself. Change my outlook on life, and perhaps even expect the worse.

That's the problem I guess: most people think death doesn't come early or can be postponed, and that death is only for the 'old', untill they hear or strike something like a serious illness. But, I guess, death is always just around a corner, though we don't know which one until we turn.

13 July 2006

Loving you, loving me: poem


I wrote this poem sometimes agao, after a period of time I was having terrrible nightmare and sleeplessness.

Actually this poem was put to music by my ex and together we won first prize at a music competition (Jugend Komponiert 2002, Berlin/Brandenburg).

-- -- --

A DIRGE TO CHILDHOOD


It is that time to write like mad.

I should be sleeping

But I do not feel like it,

As if I fear the next time

I am awake, I open my eyes

Will be a world of trouble,

A place of sudden sorrow.

There’s no turning back,

Not at this moment,

Not at this time.


Where the sun slowly sets,

Darkness looms and lives

In the forever green forest.

What an exciting journey it be!

Onwards, forwards, towards

The days of hope, the nights of peace.

Memories wave across the sacred land

With the blue tide and ebb

Of dried eyes and coloured dreams.

Bitter, bright, sour and sweet,

So taste the branches of tree of life,

So sounds the grassy breath,

So smells the flowery song.

But behind the very veil of time,

Hide the shadows of deep secrets,

Prowls the greying, echoing winds

Of change and coldness.


It is a mask I wear,

So solid and so safe

Like an armour and a sword;

For I am invincible,

I am fearless and I am brave.

But inside, somewhere

You know deep inside,

A face is clouding,

Howling, thundering, moaning,

A child is crying.

Loving you, loving me: the school



Several pillars that stretched like an invisible line across the
canteen more or less divided the space into two realms. It acted like some sort
of invisible `curtain' that separated students in the lower from the upper
classes. (Ch 5)


It was a five storey block of concrete adorned with brownish-yellow brick stone,
probably built in the sixties. I always thought when they built the hideous
thing they must have somehow managed to smuggle in architects from the former Eastern Bloc to oversee the design. Other students simply referred it as `The Tombstone'. (Ch8)




As soon as I entered the building I headed straight to the basement where the
lockers are located. Everyone received a key at the beginning of the term to one
of the many little red lockers that lined the walls of the basement. (Ch 8)



The aula was never a place the school thought needed heating, since it was
so large and empty, and rarely used, except for the occasional drama sessions,
like today’s.
(Ch 9)
 Posted by Picasa

12 July 2006

Having a ball

French men like to play with balls...



They do it in public places like parks and squares, and thoroughly enjoy it.
Women too I guess. Posted by Picasa

11 July 2006

Picknick in the park: what happened

The more mundane stuff of what we did, you can read here.

Well, happily that guy did show up for the picknick. And most of the time I talked to him, since he was probably the only one I could really talk to and had anything worth saying. All the others were girls, and I didn't really have much in common with any of them...

OK, admittedly I talked to the guy more because probably deep down inside I was thinking "Perhaps..."

Certainly the uncertainties surrounding his sexuality made him all the more interesting. He's good-looking, smart, a stylish yuppie...the only 'down-side' (if you can call it that) is that he's around 14 years older. It's been a long while since I met someone I could really talk to and with whom I had much in common. We could joke and talk about all sorts of things, share experiences of travels and things we did througout life. It's not easy, really not, for me to meet new people, so I enjoyed the chance that was given.

It was late when the picknick ended, and he drove my mother-friend and me home. It just so happens that there was a light show in town, and just before I got out the car I not-so-innocently mentioned that I'll be going out again to watch that. Of course, deep down I half-hoped that he would go along with me...and he actually did. Not only that, we walked around the city a bit, and he gave me a little personal tour as well. It was beautiful, almost unspokenly romantic.

By the time he drove me home again, it was after midnight, and we were both really tired. It was sort of awkward saying goodbye, and for one or two moments we sat in the car, not sure what to say. Then he suggested that I go over to his place the next day, and gave me his address and contacts. As he drove away, he waved back a couple of times, and so did I.

I was thrilled, and my hormone-driven imagination ran wild the whole night, keeping me awake...and with the baby crying and being restless, I only managed to get like four hours of sleep...

But I wasn't tired as I went to his place the next day.

What happened next was all very innocent. We just chatted and shared more life experiences at his place, and 'connected' a bit more. Then he suggested we go on a drive together, and we made our way into the rolling countryside. And the rest of the day, it stayed pretty much innocent too.

We talked about all sorts of things, but never once did we touch upon 'relationship' or 'sexuality'. I didn't dare ask, and neither did he...perhaps both of us were trying to pretend there's nothing there, or were too embarrassed to ask, too frightened to know. Or perhaps, again, I'm / I was just imagining things, and allowing my hormonal mind and desperation to get the better of me. My mother-friend said I'm 'different' when I'm around him...and I certainly did feel different; a feeling I've not had in a long, long time.

Come Monday morning I had to leave, and coincidentally he had to catch the train to work just minutes after my train departs. He said he would come see me off, and just at the last minute, just before I was about to board my train, I saw him walk towards me. We chatted a bit, he again said how it 'pleases him' to have met me, and hoped to see me again, either in France or in Holland. And I thanked him, again, for everything in the past few days...deep down inside, for how happy he made me feel to have found a special someone, even if it's not the kind I've been longing for.

I boarded my train, but looked out the window as the train slowly parted from the platform...hoping to perhaps catch a glimpse of him again. We promised to stay in touch, but I wondered whether that will stay true.

I went in my direction, he went his. Those few moments we travelled together will stay in memory. When or whether we'll meet again is unsure, but I sure did have a good time with him. And I hope he did with me too.

Home again



Came back home yesterday. Been a long time, but time to get on where I left off last month.


You can take a look at more pictures of Sunny and my time in Strasbourg at my main and travel blogs.

08 July 2006

Blown


A condom on the cobbled streets of Strasbourg Posted by Picasa

07 July 2006

Picknick in the park

Tomorrow is the long awaited picknick in the park, and that guy-I-suspect-to-be-gay-but-am-not-yet-sure will be there too. Heard from a mutual friend that he really was really ill last week, when he canceled a trip we were planning to take together. Heard more things about him and his character which, based on the interests we share and things we've both done, according to someone seems to fit the label of my 'soulmate'.

Picture a hot summer's day, strolling among the trees on the banks of the (River) Rhine, birds singing and dancing all around...

Wonder what will really happen.

06 July 2006

Loving you, loving me Chapter 8

I've sent the latest instalment to Nifty, and it should appear online very shortly!

Sorry to keep you waiting, but as you know I've been away so couldn't really work on it much.

Thanks for the patience, and hope you'll enjoy it, and continue reading~ : )

27 June 2006

Loving you, loving me: Chapter 8, Napoleon's dick

Now for those of you wondering about the highlight of this chapter-- ie. Napoleon's dick-- wonder no more. Here are some facts that will make your mind... bulge.

I first heard about it from (yes, surprise) my History teacher at high school. She wasn't called Scarybottom, but was just as mean. She used to be an instructor at the Royal Army (UK), so was obsessed with order and discipline.

After some personal investigation, I came on this site which confirmed that unerected it was "2.54cm long -or one inch". Josephine must have been thrilled~

There's also this site for those bent on wanting to know more about Napoleon's dick ....or perhaps they'll be throbbing to read about the fate of the dicks of other tyrants.

Nightmare in bed!

I’ve been sleeping with a girl the past two weeks. I had to.

The apartment of my mother-friend is so small there’s no where else to sleep except next to her. It’s perhaps bad enough Baby Sunny keeps waking up in the middle of the night crying and hungry, or hitting me with his arms or pulling on my clothes…but the mother isn’t any better.

Her positions in bed (not THAT way) are vulgar to put it mildly. It’s a double bed, but often I’ve had to make do with a little corridor on the edge to avoid being slapped in the face or kicked in the groins. The Spread-Eagle, the Cannon Ball Curl, the Angle Swing, the Writhing Snake…these are postures I’ve been able to identify, even in the dark of the night. And then there’s the twisting and turning, and groans and moans, the teeth grinding, the farting, sleep talking (complaining and whining don’t stop in sleep). I’ve tried not to picture her in bed (THAT way).

But then last night it happened. I had managed to accumulate three hours of sweet, uninterrupted sleep, and suddenly I felt my entire body being embraced. I thought it was a good dream, a flight of fantasy as my mind conjured up images of a beautiful boy and our romantic escapades…but no, it was her! She actually rolled over to my side and hugged me. I was frightened and felt…violated. I know I smell good, I know I have an irresistible body…but I don’t swing that way!!!

I quickly released myself from her girl grip, and hoped that I had inoculated myself before from the cooties. I jumped out of bed, and watched a giant beast roar in rage and flap its claws up and down. Sleep itself has become a nightmare.

Like mother, like son.

25 June 2006

Blown off

Remember the other day I went to dinner with some friends? Well, it went well, and I met a really nice guy there too (our mutual friend had wanted us to meet at the party).

We got talking, and were for most of the evening sitting next and just talking to each other. Who can blame us when the rest of the room were six other girls/ladies? We were 'singled' out...hopefully that word has a double meaning here.

He was a really interesting person, we seem to have similar interests and even did similar studies as well. And of course in the back of my mind I was thinking/asking the inevitable': could he be? I looked at his 'gestures' and movements closely, and some obsevations matched some stereotypes: sometimes his wrist would hang loosely, he had an immaticulate dress style (nicely-ironed shirt and pants), he took care of his face and body well, his laughter had a high pitch...

OK, it's not rocket science confirmations, mere indications. And usually I don't buy into the 'gay stereotype' mumble-jumble. Then as the evening drew to a close, he drove me home, and sort of suggested we go on an outing today.

Of course I was elated for two days, tumbling in bed, imagining the possibilities, dreaming, fantasizing, and all the other things I do best... until this morning. Got an SMS from him saying he's:

"Sorry, but impossible to meet today. Have fever, headache...and throwing up."

I was disappointed, and tried not to think too much of it. It could happen to anyone, and besides he was sniffing a bit at dinner that day too. But then, the more I tried not to think of it, the more I did think of it. What if it was just an excuse? Last time I was here in Strasbourg, he also blew off a plan to go out together, and he did it again. I don't want to be too demanding, especially from someone I just met, and to be honest barely knew...but it seems too conincidental.

Anyways, just very disappointed the whole day, and wondering when or whether we would meet again.

My blog censored !

According to France Telecom's 'Controle Parental' (Parent control) my main blog (Formosa Online) contains sensitive information, and so is therefore censored.
Could it be my discourse on Baby Sunny's behaviour? Or my complaints about Strasbourg being 'bourgeois'? Or my personal and deep confessions?

It's really strange, because THIS very blog contains more sex and other taboos, but is still accessible.

Wonder what the French are up to...

22 June 2006

“Je suis une ange”

To an angel...

On a break from ‘domestic life’ I went out last night. The whole town became one big party, with music gigs, dance events and entertainment all over the place. Never have I seen so many people, mostly youngsters like me, drinking, dancing and partying into the night. The weather was kind, not too hot or cold, and the air mixed with the smell (read stench) of spilt beer and barbeque. Still I’ve not been able to figure out what the whole evening was about, but I suspect it’s related to the start of the Tour de France in a week’s time.

No matter. I enjoyed myself, going from one gig to the next, stopping and walking, only to stop again wherever the crowd gathered. I looked and envied those people who were enjoying themselves so unreservedly in the middle of the street, dancing away, streaming and being wild.

At one point I came to a small gathering underneath the Cathedral. Beneath the magenta glow of floodlights on the cathedral clock tower, under a clear black sky full of stars, a girl sang and played her guitar. She played love songs, my favourite kinds, to the likes of the Cranberries, Natalia Imbruglia, the Carpenters, and other French ballads. A crowd slowly gathered in a crescent formation around her, cheering her on, clapping along, and some even bold enough to engage in a bout of duo-dancing. I was mesmorised by her soft voice, and the lyrics which seem to capture my feelings in few, but powerful words. I stood there, glued to the one-girl show, and just listened, sometimes sang along in my heart, and allowed the music and the words to take me away, to swoon me with butterflies and other love bugs.

Then I noticed you. You stood there diagonally opposite of me, on the other end of the crowd crescent circle. You were alone, I made sure of that as I glanced in your direction a number of times, just to be sure. You were dressed in a tight-fitting black top, with a row of bold font white words on the front. You wore dark blue jeans, and a black pair of Adidas. In the dim street light I could just about make out your facial features—a young profile of a tween, smooth-faced, clean-shaven, pointy nose, short hair spiked with gel on top…and if I’m not mistaken dirty blond hair. You stood directly opposite me, a sleek, slim body like mine, with long arms and legs. Not muscular, like mine, just a natural build, radiating with youth.

I tried not to stare too much at you…but at times it seemed like you were looking in my direction too. Were you? Or was I imagining things, like I often do? I tried to focus on the music, but it seemed like the music was taunting me and my thoughts, thoughts which drifted to this beauty in front of me. There were so many other people around us, we were in a crowd of people, but you stood out from the rest. Did I stand out too? I looked at you, hoping you wouldn’t notice I was looking…but then again, perhaps also hoping deep down that you would notice me looking. For perhaps this was the beginning of something, I thought to myself, and allowed my thoughts to run wild at the possibilities, the endless and boundless possibilities.

Music and singing drifted around me, and hordes of people walked passed me, in front of me, behind me, some even bumping into me drunk and confused. But that did not take my mind and attention off of you. You stood there, perhaps as nervous as I was. Somehow I seemed to see me in you. The way your head darted from side to side looking around…the way you didn’t seem to know where to put your hands and arms…the way you touched your face and the top of your head, like I would when I felt nervous…were you signaling to me? We must have stood there for over an hour, you glued to your end of the crowd, and I glued to my end. Even as people left and came you and I stood our ground, in the same places we were standing when I first caught glimpse of you. A lesbian couple stood next to me, one whispering soft words into the beckoning ears of the other. They hugged and kissed one another, held hands and were in love. And I wondered if you and I could…

Then, I didn’t know why, you strode over to my corner of the crowd. And within moments you were standing just one or two metres to my left. Then I could see more of you, more of your angelic face, you body, your hair, and realise the colour of your eyes were light hazel with a hint of blue. On your upper arm had a black tattoo. The darkness around us played illusions with my vision and mind. Why did you come closer? Were you seeking ‘contact’? I stood where I stood and didn’t budge…yet my eyes and head turned to you every so often to capture glimpses of this beautiful boy at my side. But I was too shy, too insecure, too embarrassed to ‘make a move’. Something I will and still regret.

You looked in my direction a couple of times too…or was I imagining things, as I often do? We were so close. For those milliseconds our gazes met I melted. What were you feeling in those moments when our eyes met and the world stopped? And I realised what those bold font white words on the front of your top said:

“Je suis une ange” (I am an angel)

Yes, you are. The moment I noticed you I realised there was something about you. Even in a crowd of crowds, in a sea of people and passer-bys I could not take my eyes off of you. Something around you, about you seemed to radiate such warmth and beauty which dwarfed all others and all else. I was lost in your heaven, with this angle on earth so close to me. Music and song drifted around us. I was lost, in love, though I know I shouldn’t be…not in the whims of a random sight, a vision of beauty; however mesmorising, however mind gobbling.

Then you left. I could still remember that last glance at the back of your head as you slowly disappeared, out of my little fantasy, my little imaginary world where anything and everything is possible.

I stood there, wondering where you went, and where you are now.

I walked around the city, under the towering cathedral’s sympathetic magenta glow, under a sky of stars, hoping that I would bump into you again. But there were simply too many people, too much chaos and craziness. Soon I felt lost.

Like you, I soon lost myself in the crowd. And was not to be found.

To those who are desperate...

I'm still away, so my apologies to those who are waiting for the next part of Loving you, loving me. Problem is there is no internet connection at my friend's place (she applied for it around 10 weeks ago, with the promise it would be connected within 5 weeks...French bureucratcy!)

I promise as soon as I get home I'll get more of the story!

Meanwhile you can keep yourselves entertained with my baby experiences.

A happy couple


Saw them sitting by the canal one afternoon...laughing, talking, being very intimate with one another...
*sigh* If only I... Posted by Picasa

20 June 2006

3.24am

First there was a silent cackle, barely audible. Then it became louder and louder. I thought I was dreaming, but it was no dream. Baby Sunny was crying, not howling and shrieking, but a soft cry, carrying with it the sounds of innocence and a slight wheezing. Something was wrong, that much I knew. Perhaps he was hungry, perhaps he wet himself, perhaps he was uncomfortable, perhaps he was ill, perhaps he was cold, perhaps he was hot. Perhaps, perhaps…

3.24am. Time to get up, open tired eyes and get ready for baby action. It turned out he was hungry, and had wet himself, and also pooed too. A couple of spoonfuls of powder, 90ml of lukewarm water, a little shake of the baby bottle, and his dose of nutrition was ready. He gobbled it down quickly, sucking on the rubber tit with an expression of satisfaction and joy. A couple of times he took too much into his little mouth all at once, and trails of white streams flowed down the corners of his little lips. Quickly a stand-by piece of cloth for wiping his drool was called into action. He continued sucking, drinking, his cheeks expanding and contracting, his eyes closing and opening as he devoured the juice of life.

I looked at him, my heart filled with a strange sense of pleasure that this little curios creature before me was under my care. Behind the responsibilities and worries lies the satisfaction in knowing that I am helping, if only a little bit, to nature and care for this fragile little baby. Again he took my finger and held it tightly in his hand; sometimes tightening his grip, as he needed the assurance that he was not alone; sometimes letting go, as if he was trying to prove that he was ready to take on the world by himself. In his clear pupils I could see my own reflection. And in him, in his voice, his movements I saw my reflection. Once I was like him, once I was so in need of love and care. Correction. We are born and are in constant need of love and care.

He burped as the bottle was taken out of his mouth. A few pats on the back, to prevent him from choking, to help him swallow better, and prevent him from throwing up…but also partly to praise and commend him for the joy he brought to our lives, and the joy we feel as he drank his way to growth and health. Like always after his dose, he looked drunk, with his arms outstretched, eyes rolling, lips slightly parted, wheezing ever so slightly. Drunk with pleasure, with contentment, with perhaps the discovery what a wonderful world of pampering and love this is for a newborn…

Next on the agenda was to clear up the mess Baby Sunny had made. I laid him on his nappy changer, and softly stripped away the layers of clothing that wrapped around him. He wriggled and danced on his back, as if it was a game of tickle and wriggle, his feet kicked and little arms swayed in the air, trying to catch invisible butterflies. And he laughed, chuckled, smiled and giggled, with such purity, without a trail of pretence.

The nappy was wet and soiled. Smelly too. Gently I peeled it from beneath him, and quickly put a new one under his tiny bum. If I had been any slower, a slush of brown would have trickled down his bum and onto the towel he was lying on. Quickly I pulled wet tissues from the box and tried to catch the exiting deposits, but more squeezed their way through, to the accompanying sound of farting. He continued giggling, smiling, wriggling and dancing. There’s no shame in farting, no shame in soiling yourself; not when you are still so small and innocent.

Suddenly a jet spewed into the air, spraying on his clothes and my busy hands. Emergency! Another tuck at the tissue box and quickly I covered his hose to prevent rain falling wildly all around us. He continued giggling, smiling, wriggling and dancing, not a worry in the world, just living from one moment to the next, experiencing this magical new gift he so recently received: the gift of life. Desperate situation called for desperate measures. Away the old nappies and tissues went into the bin, and away the wet clothes and towels went into the hamper. A fresh start, a fresh try in trying to change Baby Sunny into clean and dry clothes.

I closed the window to prevent the night draught from chilling Baby Sunny. It was a struggle at first putting his nappy and clothes on. Gently I took ahold of both feet and held them up, while sliding the new nappy underneath. I was inexperienced, new, and learning, as much as he was. Clumsily I felt my way around the nappy, trying to find out how this incredible invention works. Finally I found the seals that would prove vital in sealing off the toxic wastes and gasses. I gave them a gentle pull and stuck the lycra parts on the front of the nappy, just underneath the picture of a little smiling duckling swimming happily in a clear pond. Nappy done, and now the rest.

From the cupboard I got out some of his soft linen. They smelt wonderful, like the smell of fresh roses, spring air and morning dew. Especially his fragile little arm I was afraid to break as I tried to pull it through the sleeve. I held his hand lightly, and as if he felt I was initiating our usual game of grip-my-finger, he closed his hand around my finger tightly. Using the opportunity, I jerked his arm ever so lightly and managed to free it from the tangled sleeves, out to freedom. Much the same struggle with his other arm and feet. But in the end was a clean and fresh smelling baby, lying there before me, kicking and waving, giggling and smiling.

Mummy slept on. We tried not to disturb her, and let her sleep, for she has done too much already.

But so many things happened as she had her back turned toward us. So many things between Baby Sunny and me.

19 June 2006

what are the chances?

This is sort of silly.

Last time I came to Strasbourg, a friend arranged a day trip to go hiking in the mountains. Not only that, she also arranged a ‘playmate’ for me. The way she was describing him—single, handsome, kind, friendly, good career—it seemed like he was trying to match me up with him. In the end though he didn’t show up. Shame I thought, but just let it pass.

Turns out this friend is planning a dinner coming Friday, and wants me to attend. She said that this ‘single, handsome, kind, friendly’ guy will be there too, so I must go.

Just made me wonder what the possibilities are… 1 in 10?

Summer plans?

I sort of had a sudden idea the other day.

My friend in France seems to need a lot of help, especially in the first few months after birth. My idea is to ‘move’ to France, and stay with her for a while, at least for the summer period. I could take care of her and the baby, do ‘heavy’ chores and help around, while at the same time study French.

I’ve always wanted to study French, and this would the perfect opportunity to do ‘two things at once’: help my friend and study! Besides, I’ve never joined a ‘summer course/camp’ in my life before, so it would be a first for me. I hear you’ll get to meet lots of new and interesting people, and perhaps it could be a ‘summer of love’ even…

Just an idea… not sure how or whether it would all work out. There’s some ‘hurdles’ at home I need to overcome, and some other business I need to take care of.

It all seems so exciting the more I think about it!