Have just finished packing the last of my stuff into boxes. I've hired a truck to move it all to my new apartment tomorrow.

I suddenly realise, tonight is my last night in the family home. It's quietly depressing emptying out one's room. Taking down those pictures, removing all the personal clutter, so carefully layered over time. Discovering lost objects amongst the dust bunnies, letters and presents from friends, assorted hair thingies left behind by ex-girlfriends, receipts for year's of purchases... It's either in the bin or a box now. I've given my space back to the void ... it will no longer be an extension of me.

Tomorrow, this room will be empty, and I will be living on my own.

One half of me shouts hurrah! The other half wipes a tear away.

Today, I am the proud owner of a new home.

On top of that, I had yet another amazing weekend.

At 15, Annabelle was one of those rare beauties who can make every man's head turn - regardless of age or physical fitness. She was one of the few who could send pulses racing in young and old and cause old men to groan with regret simply by walking down the street. She quickly noticed the silence that followed her appearance in a cafe or a classroom, but it would be years before she completely understood it. At the CEG in Crecy-en-Brie, it was common knowledge that she and Michel were 'together', but even if they had not been, no boy would have dared try it on with her. The terrible predicament of a beautiful girl is that only an experienced womaniser, someone cynical and without scruple, feels that he is up to the challenge. More often than not, she will lose her virginity to some filthy lowlife in what can prove to be the first step in an irrevocable decline.

So it's been more than a year since G left... a symbolic milestone that now seems so inconsequential. Somehow it doesn't really feel like the fresh start I expected. But like the stock market, my fortunes have bottomed and are now trending up. I am carrying less baggage than I was at the beginning of the year... all that bitterness and anguish... seems so melodramatic now. Yet it changed my life. I am not the same person I was a year ago. Somewhat cynical and hardened. Less trusting. But at the same time, stronger, more mature, more caring.

September 5th, 2003 was quite special. On a crowded dancefloor, at the last RnB night ever at Dendy, I told Cherie that I'm surprised I'm still here. The rest of the night was not PG rated, and was in many ways a bit scandalous... I believe those who were there remember it much more vividly than I. The DJ's played all my favourite songs that night, including Return of the Mack, In Da Club, Too Close, and U Remind Me... haha, it's all coming back to me now...

Two weeks ago I got to run some focus groups into the cosmetics industry. I've always wanted to get into the strategic area of marketing... gaining consumer insights doesnt really fall under my current job role, but I volunteered for the out of hours experience... which involved lots of creative exercises to get groups of girls talking about cosmetics, concepts of beauty and motivations behind make-up... it was all very... educational. Highlights of the evening included beauty being defined as happiness, an inner glow. I like that... no guy would have said that.

In other news, I bought a little 1 bedroom apartment in Surry Hills, opposite Prince Alfred Park (the one with the swimming pool next to Central station). Yes, I am now officially a real-estate mogul / wage-slave! I will be moving out in mid-November and declaring independence. The whole property purchase has been quite surreal. I haven't really thought about it much, but in the space of a few weeks I will be a S.I.N.K.

Living with my parents has never been so good, but the decision to move out is motivated by the $7,000 first home buyers grant, and my infamous appearance in the July 15th edition of The Bulletin magazine - front cover feature article "Kids Who Won't Leave Home". Check out page 28, where an insouciant Nereis is glibly quoted as saying "You don't really worry about money. It just seems to accumulate no matter how much fun you have on the weekend." I've since become known around work as "the accumulator." At Friday night drinks, one of the office girls said to me "You realise you sound like an absolute wanker in that article?!"

Yes I do. Thank you, The Bulletin. But the funny thing about wankers is that they're proud of it.

I'm excited about doing the place up and learning to survive as a bachelor. In preparation, I've developed an unhealthy interest in DIY home improvement and cooking shows. However, part of me feels like I'm surrendering my youth. I got a taste of the domestic drudgery awaiting me over the past two weeks, as both parental units were oseas in Malaysia & Singapore. Coming home late after work to an empty house was depressing! With no one to talk to, I found myself doing a lot of cleaning and reading the newspaper in front of the TV, when usually, I do neither.

Rather more exciting, are my holiday plans! I'm taking a month off work to party with my friends in Malaysia, Hongkong and China over Xmas and New Year... I really should be saving towards my new mortgage, but a big oseas trip is the last new year's resolution that I haven't fulfilled yet. EN inspired me to write a list of personal goals at the beginning of the year... I'm secretly proud that I've now accomplished all of them. I've been really active, making new friends and trying a lot of new things like rock climbing, archery, dance class & tennis. At the same time, I've grown closer to my family, having really good conversations with my mum and dad, taking them out for cafe breakfast after a big night out... and I finished an evening marketing course at UTS - graduated with distinction average! So whilst this past year has been hard for me, in many ways, I think I've grown and become a better person for it.

D says any prospective girlfriend who read my blog would run in the opposite direction, so I shouldn't write so much about feeling blue and missing G. I told D she may be right and I should take this site down, so as to preserve the full potential of my beautiful future.

But when I actually logged in tonight, the urge to purge evaporated. I am feeling possessive over my words, my past. Honesty and a love for pretty phrases are enough to stay the executioner's axe. So what if I have moments of depression and desperation? Is that not natural? Does it make me a bad catch? A risky bet? A struggling company that no one wants to invest in?

D also said my blog has been less personal since I became conscious of my readership. It is true, I am torn between spilling my guts in the raw, and the diluting factor of those many eyes, to which I present many faces. From all walks of life, you gather here to peer into my soul. Yet I proudly wear my heart on my sleeve, and blurt out late-night passages of sadness and regret... I wield these sharp and honest words against an uncaring world, and I can only hope the actors of my beautiful future will look past these dangerous confessions to the passionate soul within... waiting for the right look, the right moment, to take tangible shape on centre stage...

Writing is bound up with solitude and introspection. I write when my heart and mind are tied in knots. When I am happy, I am consumed by the moment, and surrounded by friends, I live in the beauty of a laugh, that simple effervescent feeling, so removed from the heaviness of the literary world where everything is inscribed, as if in stone. No, blogging does not cross my mind when I can sense the wonderful things ahead of me. It's only when I'm alone at home, struggling with inner demons that I turn to the net to share my woes. By casting my dark thoughts out into the world, I feel more understood, and less burdened by sorrow. I cry on your virtual shoulder!

But please understand, I am not pining away in the hope of reconciliation or revenge. I am waiting for you, the star of my future, to come light up my life.

I'm home sick today. Woke up with a headache, temperature and sore throat. I've been stressed lately, effectively working two jobs since my trafficker left. We've hired another one to start Monday, but it's been all hands on deck for the last few weeks. I felt guilty about taking a sickie when there's so much work on, but damn, I've pre-paid for a big ski weekend in 3 days and I don't want to jeopardise my investment! hehehe

I've been too busy experiencing to blog or create lately. I'm going thru an "experiencing" period, you might say. Lately I can't stand my own company, so I've been going out after work and cramming my leisure time with movie nights, karaoke, hiphop dance lessons, gym, and late-night gaming. On weekends, I go hunting for realestate, the perfect bubble tea and good occasions for getting drunk. I'm enjoying life, greedily seeking out new friends and experiences, improving myself thru study and sport, and socialising like all lonely bastards should. I'm still somewhere between Coldplay's The Scientist, Robbie Williams' Better Man, and George Michael's Waiting for that Day. From the sublime, to the popular, to the pathetic. Haha, well we all have our pathetic moments. And somehow music manages to elevate the pathetic into the sublime.

Anyway, to keep you company in my absence, here are some blogs that do get updated regularly. I've been reading them vicariously, instead of writing my own. And no, I don't know any of these people personally, so don't go tellin them I sent you!

It's A Big (Fucking) Deal - sassy Malaysian girl who studies at UNSW.
A Soul-Less Man's Journal - funny ass Korean guy from LA who works in an ad agency like moi.
Dawei's House of Debauchery and Beeyotching - gay fucker from Brisbane... so offensive he's brilliant.

On Saturday morning I got a call from my cousin in Sabah. My uncle had passed away in Kota Belud, my Dad’s hometown. As coincidence would have it, my Dad was in KL for a work conference, and as I got the news first, I thought I should call him immediately on his mobile.

“Dad, I’ve got some very bad news for you. Your brother is dead.”
“Which one?
“Second uncle, Ah Seng’s father…”

My dad was in a good mood at the time, and I found it a bit strange not to detect any shock or sadness in his voice, but considering the way Asians dislike public displays of emotion, unexpected phonecalls of this type are sometimes hard to read. Anyway he cancelled his conference and flew to KK that day... and is now in KB, ready for the funeral tomorrow.

When my parents first came out to Australia as students, they both lived with Australian families who rented out the spare room to international students. These landlords/guardians eventually became adopted family. I grew up thinking of these folks as my Australian grandparents. We had three pairs of Aussie grandparents – the Kidds, the Hickeys and the Scotts. I will always remember the morning that Grandpa Hickey passed away and I had to get my Dad out of the shower to answer the phone. I must’ve been about 8 or 9 years old, but I remember him standing in the kitchen, dripping wet, and crying. I can’t remember ever seeing him cry, except for that occasion.

Last night I was out clubbing with my friends at Temptation, an Asian dance party at City Hotel, when a fight broke out on the dancefloor. An acquaintance of mine got the shit kicked out of him by 6-8 guys. I think he tried to chat up one of the girls in their group and that was all the excuse they needed. One of them grabbed him by the arm as he tried to walk away. He was apologizing at the time, saying “Sorry, sorry sorry” but they must’ve been spoiling for a fight because from out of nowhere they swarmed on him and beat him to the ground, kicking and punching him senseless. One of the bar-staff intervened and pushed the attackers back. I saw Paul’s body huddled on the floor, but at that stage I didn’t realize who it was. Then one of the gang members started throwing glass tumblers and bottles at the barman, who was forced to retreat. The projectiles hit his body and bounced up into the ceiling. It was all so wrong. I wanted to tackle the guy who was throwing the glasses, but before I knew it the psycho was hugging a friend that he had spotted in the crowd, and Paul and the barman had both disappeared.

We left before the cops arrived and went for a late-night pie at Harry’s Café de Wheels. Unlike my companions, who had found the whole spectacle rather surreal and exciting, I was disturbed by the ferocity of the attack, and the way the violence switched from Paul to the barman so quickly and indiscriminately. Just half an hour earlier, two of these haters had shaken my hand and ruffled my hair, as I was resting by the windowsill.

… I went to yum cha and played tennis today for the first time in 10 or so years, with some new friends I met on a recent ski trip. I've been raving and clubbing with these guys a fair bit lately. They're very close, but at the same time, welcoming to strangers like myself. And for some reason, they're going through a tennis craze at the moment. Tennis is one of my dad's great passions, which is one of the reasons I never really enjoyed it. When we were little kids, he used to make my sister and I accompany him to the courts, rather than hire a baby sitter. Later on, we both had to take tennis lessons so he could use us as target practice for his power serve. But today, I actually enjoyed bashing a few balls around, even though the events of the last two days have left me unsettled.

Spent the past few hours watching Rurouni Kenshin episodes and chinese music videos.

David Tao's videoclip to Yue Liang Dai Biao Wo De Xin brings back memories of the happiest and saddest kind.

Memories of filmschool, of Teresa Teng, and the girl I made movies with.

I miss you gogo.

Things I like to do on weekends. Get horribly drunk at rnb parties and karoake. And read the arts section of the newspaper.

This week's highlight was an article on the concept of Beauty, which got me thinking because it relates to my last few posts about love, religion, and what motivates us to keep on living. How do we know what beauty is? And why do we seek it?

Everyone has heard that old acorn "beauty starts in the eye of the beholder." And yes, concepts of beauty differ from culture to culture. There is no doubt that beauty is tied up with perception. But it seems all cultures seek out the Beautiful, and there must be some underlying reason to all this yearning and drooling.

Some see beauty in Darwinian terms, as a sign of physical health, and by implication, reproductive ability. Handsome Kings are born of flawless Queens, which explains why the kingdoms of men often went to war over women. This theory also sheds some light on non-human kinds of beauty such as buildings and music. Things we create to impress the opposite sex and increase our chances of getting laid. However, it doesn't explain the heroin chic of the 90s supermodel scene, in which a healthy glow was considered the antithesis of beauty.

Plato thought the true lover of wisdom gained a heightened sensitivity to perceive natural beauty in the world. Thus a life of true virtue brought one in touch with the Beautiful. Many who followed Plato and Aristotle also intertwined beauty with truth and goodness... spreading the idea that beauty springs from moral purity, and because of this, beauty historically signified goodness. This explains why heroes and gods are always beautiful. However, ugly people are often nicer than their beautiful counterparts, perhaps because they have to try harder to attract the opposite sex. They cultivate inner beauty to cancel out their outer ugliness. Beautiful people have it easy. They are born with physical assets that bring happiness to others. This kind of effortless giving is akin to a headstart in life.

But if there's one thing I've learnt in months of clubbing, it's that beautiful people can also be sluts. This goes against the traditional view of beauty being associated with virtue and goodness. I think the Neech had it pegged right when he said that "truth is ugly." We possess art lest we perish of the truth. And similarly, beauty, much as it is tied to physical appearance, is actually this more complex, spiritual thing. Beauty belongs in the world of art, of ideals and dreams, and not the world of everyday truth. Because that beautiful young girl you see with the angelic face that radiates hope, innocence and a romantic future, is often an unpredictable, high maintenance bitch who sleeps with gangsters and backstabs her friends.

There is something inherently random about beauty. Part of its appeal is it's rarity. Cosmetics, surgery and clothing only go so far. True beauty is effortless superiority. Nature encourages mutation and constant adaptation. The natural distribution of all this variety creates beauty as a necessary and mysterious pinnacle towards which our loins command us to climb. Beauty as an evolutionary goal, an ancient, instinctual lust. And thus strange and wonderful species like the proboscis monkey came about because the babes kept choosing mates with big noses.

Lastly, beauty is inspiring because it gives us a glimpse of some greater existence - whether it be the hand of God or some natural order. Iris Murdoch wrote that "Art and morals are, with certain provisos, one. The essence of both of them is love. And Love is the extremely difficult realisation that something other than oneself is real." A beautiful girl, apartment, painting, or song, answers in us a primal need to believe in something greater than ourselves, and to be mesmerised by it. This transcendent moment of wonder and recognition allows us to triumph, however fleetingly, over death.

Soon George and Chai plunged into argument again, this time on love. Chai was very reserved on love, but he had decided opinions. "Love is having a wife that is well chosen. All else is fool's play. A wife can make or ruin a man. That is clear."

George snorted at this. "Well, love, like poetry or like life, has a thousand definitions. Many are brilliant, suggestive, clever, and enlightening. Love... I can't tell what it is. But it is only real to those who have experienced it. It is as the breathing air that gives life to all living creatures; the bird that was put in a cage without ventilation died. It is divorced from logic and has nothing to do with acquiring a respectable wife and four or five children. But just as with life, nobody can define it except by living, so nobody can talk on love except by loving. And I have loved a thousand different ways, some ardently, others half-heartedly, and still again reluctantly, and now I have come to the conclusion, to love is loving and is nothing else."

"Yes, the man who loves many wastes time and energy," said Chai. "In the end he is left with nothing to show." ("Like four years in college and not even the diploma in hand," commented Chu with personal reminiscence.) "Never love wastefully. That is my advice to you."

"Hell, you are wrong!" cried George the romantic and the non-Confucian. "Love has to be wasteful, or it is no more love. Yes, it is wasteful, but it is not losing anything. You, Chai, are not saving anything up... only to miss the radiance of the tender morning and the grandeur of the setting sun. Even when the love is gone - and in this life nothing is sure - the picture of the lost world, the memory of yesterday's love, gives the strength for tomorrow."

George went on talking about various aspects of love, and Chai equally contradicting. He said a kiss could not possibly last as long George said. George said, "Well, I need every bit of the time allowed." They made a bet. George said he would carry it out as soon as he could get June up to Chulmo's. So she did come up, late one night. While Chu was making cooksoo in the kitchen, George said to Chai to get out his watch. June was sitting on the Morris Reynolds table smoking a cigarette lazily, and she agreed that George ought not to lose his bet. George began just as the minute hand reached a certain point, and Chai said, "Go." Chai stood right there looking at his watch as if he were watching an egg boiling in water. Chai lost his bet. George won. A kiss from George did take as long as George had said it would.

What are you looking for in a partner, and why?

Met this really cool girl in a waking dream. She studied computer science and reprogrammed games in her spare time because the cheap animations annoyed her. She laughed in the most infectious way... one couldn't help but smile each time. We talked about our favourite games and of her modified tank sprite, which she had nicknamed "bumblebee" because of its skittish, buzzy behavioural patterns.

I woke up, greatly disappointed that my new friend was but a trick of the mind - not the sort of fantasy girl my conscious mind would invent, but an inspired, alluring vision of someone in love with life. Apparently what I seek in a partner is someone who is a warmer, better person than I am. Someone who will push me to become a better person, by balancing out my tendency towards introspection and complacency.

What is beauty? What the truly beautiful girl gives is melody to the whole man. She brings about inner harmonisation, so that the whole man dances. Sometimes this harmonisation is so powerful that the man is re-created. That is to be in love.

To be sucked in my warmness
To be caressed by thrilling feminine tones that have no shyness
To be melted away in tones
This is the greatest discovery -
Self-absorption.

If the universe is first and foremost only a furtive arrangement of elementary particles, then egotism can't be the only thing that exists. It's a contradictory conclusion. Which raises the possibility of other ways to live as an atomised individual. So what if all this returns to nothingness? It is not within our ability to grasp the infinite timescale of our becoming and ending. We can only experience the now. And that in itself is not necessarily an argument for unbridled egotism.

In contrast to western nihilism, the Chinese have a history of contemplative fatalism. Their poetry and landscape painting reveals an acceptance of overpowering, everlasting nature. These scholars were in awe of their relative insignificance, rather than depressed by it. Instead of egotism, they promoted a culture of contemplation and harmony with nature. Whereas some insist that life is a rat race for fame, power and fortune, the Chinese poet-philosophers saw themselves as being part of a greater, universal system - a furtive arrangement of elementary particles that could not be argued with, or changed. One's goal in life is to learn and appreciate the beauty of this system, and eventually returned to nothingness. It is very Chinese to perceive beauty in the unstoppable tragedy of this cosmic play. This belief system allows one to understand suffering and see beauty even in sadness.

"A famous Chinese philosopher was asked what he could do with a useless tree. He said, 'Why not plant it in the land of non-existence and yourself lie in a state of bliss beneath it, inactive by its side? No axe nor other harm could touch it, and being useless, it would be safe from danger.' This has been my philosophy, in utilitarian civilisations where I and my muse are not wanted. My life is the useless tree. I try to plant my tree in the land of non-existence." -- East Goes West

I like this idea of producing and contemplating art to tap into some eternal meaning, beyond the physical world. Instead of saying "nothing really matters" this philosophy says "I can find beauty in the useless." I can create something out of nothing, and I can give it meaning and depth, which is an act of love, and not of egotism.

Came across an interesting quote in an article about Michel Houellebecq:

"The universe is only a furtive arrangement of elementary particles. A presage of transition to chaos. Which will carry it away in the end. The human race will disappear. Other races will appear and disappear in turn. The sky will become icy and void, pierced by the feeble light of half-dead stars. Which will also disappear. Everything will disappear. And what human beings do is just as free of sense as the free motion of elementary particles. Good, evil, morality, feelings? Pure "Victorian fictions." Only egotism exists." -- H.P. Lovecraft

I am struggling against this nihilist philosophy. Something in me wants to resist it. This amoral faith, which I first accepted when I was introduced to Nietzsche back in uni. Power, Knowledge and Freedom. That course changed my life. It came at a time when I had rejected Christianity, sickened by the irrational arguments of campus missionaries. These young men of God insisted that all my Buddhist relatives, despite being kind, loving people, were condemned to an eternity in hell unless they converted before dying, because all humanity is tarred by the brush of Adam and Eve's original sin. I debated with these lunchtime evangelists, and struggled against my own devotion to God, before finally rejecting the religion in which I had been raised. Original sin could not co-exist with my new-found understanding of humanism and the relativity of morality.

Freed from the peer pressures of a dogmatic religion, one can easily believe that good and evil are arbitrary, shifting values created by a fragile, fateless race. Robbed of divine predestination, life is ultimately meaningless except for what is yours in the moment. The rules of attraction. Take what you can until death or someone else takes it from you.

Yet part of me still resists, still wants to believe in a just, benevolent God, and a universe crafted with purpose and intellgence. Because if egotism and avarice is truly the way of the world, then liars and charlatans will prosper, whilst the weak and lost stand aside or get knocked down. How do I live in such a world? Even if I no longer believe in destiny or divinity, earthly injustice still makes me angry. You see, a mind freed from the Matrix must take up arms and fight for survival.

What do I want in a relationship? For it to be real, and beautiful, and lasting.

So I'm reading about this guy, who is now living my life - sleeping with the same girl as me, sharing the same breakfast on the same couch, feeling the same love and the same happiness, enjoying the same books and cd's that I introduced her to. Now I am sure I'm not the first man to be jilted, nor the first to experience this unsettling convergence. It must have happened innumerous times throughout history. What number am I? Just 148,452,855? Yet I feel anger and pain at reading his words... it is immediate and consuming. But I check myself and ask why? Beyond envy, beyond bitter recriminations, or moral judgements, why does this upset me?

I used to be uncomfortable whenever my girlfriend wanted to borrow a CD or movie that an ex had given me or shared with me. Hermann Hesse, reflecting back on the key romances in his life, wrote about how each girl gave something only she could give. I've always felt these differences were important, otherwise why bother? I treasure each of my past relationships, and I observe those boundaries by not blurring experiences. If I had been to a special place with an ex, I would avoid taking another girl there. Like who wants to go to overseas with someone who's just been there with their ex? It's not about being first, it's about wanting to experience things on the same level. To share the same discoveries and relive the memories with the same vividness. It's these little things that build the bonds that last, that help a couple grow together, whereas walking in someone else's boots only leads to jealousy and doubt.

Next time you're snuggling up to your boy or your girl, imagine them being the exact same way with someone else. It's just wrong. In the story of your life you want to be the main character, not an understudy or stand-in for someone else. Likewise, I wouldn't like to know that my girlfriend had been the exact same way with another guy. It would cheapen our relationship. Our special experiences become just one of many... a commodity. So this is not insecurity speaking, but a desire for meaning.

It really pisses me off that J has pretty much gotten away with this betrayal. My friends are still his friends. He's happy and I'm feeling blue. I've lost a year of my life... and maybe more. I've been trying to move on, by seeing new people and throwing myself into my work, but I feel hardened and incapable of love with a capital L. D says I'm too cynical. But it's not by choice. My heart is closed... once bitten, twice shy. Sometimes I feel like walking away from all the troubles in my life. Go overseas and start a new life, start afresh. But I'm scared to leave what I know, and I find myself dependent on the same friends to lift me up and away from the downward spiral. No doubt I am stronger as an individual, having lived through this suffering, and having learned from my mistakes, but I think I preferred blissful ignorance to this bleak, unforgiving distrust. I may have gained realism but at the expense of my idealism. A year on, and it seems I'm not ready to fall in love without already anticipating, and thereby internalising, its failure. It may become a self-fulfilling prophecy. And how to overcome this, I still don't know.

To move on is to accept without reacting. To react, is to not move on. Why do I find it hard to let go? To not react? Perhaps it is primal instinct… an urge to defend myself, to protect what I have cultivated and nurtured. Perhaps it’s just morality… injustice must not be ignored and unpunished. Because, if you accept injustice as the way of the world, you accept the strong taking from the weak, and discount the suffering of all those who are forced to give to an oppressor. If this be true, I will become either a nihilist or a ruthless egotist who acts with impunity because he believes it is natural to take what one can, and ignores what other people think because he believes in himself above all else.

No, despite my cynicism, I still believe in a balance between selfishness and mutual obligation. This balance underwrites humanity. For every reaction there is an equal and opposite reaction. A sense of natural justice is therefore not unreasonable.

Sometimes you gotta dig deep, when problems come near
Don't fear, things get severe for everybody, everywhere.
Why do bad things happen, to good people?
Seems life is just a constant battle between good and evil
The situation that I'm facing, is mad amazing
To think such problems can arise from minor confrontations
Now I'm contemplating in my bedroom pacing
Dark clouds over my head, my heart's racing
See when you're shining, some chumps will wanna dull ya
Always selfish jealous punks, will wanna pull ya
But just as you'll receive what is coming to you
Everybody else is gonna get theirs too
I ain't no saint, therefore I cannot dispute
That everyone must meet their moment of truth.

So I turned the radio on,
And this woman was singing my song:
Lover's in love and the other's run away
Lover is crying 'cause the other won't stay
Some of us hover when we weep for the other who was
Dying since the day they were born
Well, well, this is not that
I think that I'm throwing, but I'm thrown

I cannot reconcile the image of the girl I fell in love with, with the person she chose to become, and the person she chose to be with her.

I loved you gogo. I trusted you I trusted you.

But somewhere along the line you lost me, and I lost you.

Remember how you said you would always love me? And through the tears, I told you "Garbage!"

Well I accept that foolish pledge now, as the farewell from the girl I loved.

helluva! check what this crazy fool has done to my darn blog!
http://snurl.com/bitethewax

I've been diverting my blogging time into sorting and uploading my collection of digital photos. I initially only intended to upload a few photos from my recent birthday bash, but as I started browsing through the many folders of photos, I discovered a treasure trove of memories - memories I would hate to lose to fire, theft or hardware malfunction. So I've uploaded them onto the net for safekeeping. I guess this means my life is now pretty much an open book. Well... at least it won't be forgotten.

You see," he explained, "I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones.

- Sherlock Holmes, in A Study in Scarlet

The last few weeks have been amazing crazy. Usually Autumn, moving into Winter, is a sombre period of shortened days and shortened tempers. Singles get depressed that they have no one to hibernate through Winter with. Couples who met in the mating season of Spring and Summer wonder if they've lost the excitement of new love. But for the rebadged nereis, Autumn 2003 has brought night after night of drinks, dance parties, dinners and dates. Partly this was due to a rash of farewell activity ahead of YP's and EN's departures, but lately it has been thanks to D, who was so instrumental in organising the Mercedes Australian Fashion Week that nobody questioned her as she smuggled me and other unlikely fashionistas into all the exclusive shows and after-parties. Imagine moi drinking Moet from the bottle, living it up with interesting peeps from HK, Melbourne and Japan, getting no more than 4 - 6 hours of sleep each night... it's been a week of heightened living.

Work has also been exciting. My promotion has led to more meetings with clients and publishers, as well as the unusual experience of interviewing young hopefuls for the privilege of taking over my old job. Processing the hundreds of job applications has opened my eyes as to what not to do when I go for my next job. So many of the submissions were cliched or simply inappropriate. My advice is, if it's not related to the job description, leave it out! Very few employers are interested in what you do for your Church, the Army Reserve, or the plays you've performed in. And yes, driving a truck may be a skill, but it can be detrimental to your chances of scoring a computer-based office job. Being on the other side of the interview table was also an educational experience. There are candidates who lose the job from the moment they open their mouths. Others don't even have to open their mouths... one look and you can tell they're not cut out for the job. In the end, we picked a smart but totally inexperienced girl who was so excited about being offered the job she actually squealed. I will have to train and manage her, so the next few months will be an interesting experiment. Hopefully I will have moulded her into a mini-me by September, so I can finally take some leave and go overseas.

On a different note, I saw a quiet girl from work yesterday, taking part in a Brazilian Capoeira demonstration at Hyde Park. Later that night, I ran into our French intern at the DJ Krush concert. We both observed how encouraging it is to see other people from work doing exciting, unexpected stuff out of hours. It's good to know there are more than one of us leading double-lives - the quiet professionalism by day, hiding unspoken ambitions and unusual interests.

A few people have noticed that I've been doing a lot better lately. I can put this down to really simple things. Friends who care, and amazing weekends with these friends. Movies, nightclubs, house parties... I haven't written much about these things in the past, even though they've been so important to me - helping rebuild my sense of hope, my eagerness to live. I guess a party is meaningless to anyone who wasn't there... like the shallow shit I hate reading about in other people's blogs. So I record this, if only for my own sake. When I'm old and wheezy, I want to remember the high times with these special people. When I think about them, I am reminded of just how intimate and good life can be. Car pooling to parties. Drinking and dancing to RnB. Sharing stories and favourite songs. Kissing and hugging half the azns in Sydney. Late night suppers at Superbowl. Movies at Broadway the next day. I used to despise the whole azn scene and the lifestyle associated with it, but looking back, it's been incredibly good to me. I've met some wonderful people and shared the highs and lows of life with them. These relationships have become the focus of my life, instead of career or materialism. Learning from each other, leaning on each other - belonging to a tight community is empowering.

Yet I sometimes wonder how much longer this can go on. As we get older, couples start to marry and disappear from the scene. Others leave for faraway places, or stop coming out to concentrate on career and study. It seems inevitable to me that our lives will slowly become more urbane and settled over the coming years. I met two interesting Japanese thirty-somethings at the Fashion Week parties... guys who are still exploring and having fun. But they're a rare breed, and I wonder if their freedom to enjoy themselves is due to the fact that they are moneyed and single. Perhaps they are actually quite lonely and hanging out with the younger generation occasionally creates self-doubt and loathing. But no, let's be optimistic for the time being and hope that life improves with lessons learnt, and friendships gained.

Woke up early to see EN off at the airport today. EN has been a big part of my life for the last 6 months. She has been there for me from the moment we met, always smiling, loving and generous, despite the pain of losing her younger brother to cancer. She told me once that her brother had been her closest friend in the world. Watching her deal with the grief of losing him, has helped me overcome my own depression. I find EN to be one of the most beautiful people I know. Her lightness of being has shone through the darkness of my feelings and shown me the way out. For that, I am so grateful to her.

Despite instructions not to open until the 13th of May, I read EN's birthday card on the train back into the city. The image on the front of the card brought a tear to my eye. There have been times when I wished I had it in me to be her partner and make her happy. But due to my reluctance we have always ended up being "just good friends". As we hugged at the airport, I bit my tongue to avoid saying anything that would make it harder for her to leave. EN told me she needed to go away to find herself, and leave her sadness behind. Even though I understood, I selfishly wanted her to stay. But she is on the plane to Europe now. I wish her all the happiness and adventures she deserves.

Over the past 2 years, I've lost 3 of my best friends to the exotic allure of living in London. When will they come back? None of them can say... Having spent a month backpacking around the UK, I am not particularly attracted to living in that cold and fishy country. But goddammit I miss them so! Blubber blubber~

Hey guess who just got promoted? I have been panel-beaten and rebadged as a "Client Service Executive" ... another ridiculous advertising title if I do say so myself!

Please join me in congratulating Nereis who has been promoted to Client Service Executive within the Interactive Group. Nereis is a great asset to our group and has worked extremely hard since joining us last year, not only trafficking & managing every single Interactive campaign across Sydney & Melbourne offices, but also learning how to plan & buy online media. Nereis will be planning & buying across Toshiba, ASX, Freedom, Infogrames, EMI, Hoyts, Philips and some products within St.George.

Car crash... it was raining cats and dogs... I overshot the underground carpark entrance in Chinatown... I needed to reverse so I could turn into the entrance... as I was reversing, vehicle #2 darted across the road from an alleyway and tried to enter the same carpark at a 90 degree angle... he hit me from my blindside, but because I was reversing at the time, it's considered my fault. Damn... there goes this week's salary!

Falling. Falling. Bear called me on Wednesday to tell me that Leslie Cheung had committed suicide. I thought it was an April Fool's hoax but no, it's true. He jumped from the 24th floor of the Mandarin Hotel. He was one of my favourite movie stars. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all week.

What else is happening in my life? Did some good work helping Clinton shoot his dragonboat feature film. Drove out to Nth. Rocks for the fourth time and spent 3 hours in the testing lab fixing my new PC. Next time I'm sticking with Mac YP! Managed to plough through several chapters of Younghill Kang's East Goes West. My progress seems to parallel the advance of US troops in Iraq. I'm such an impatient reader these days. Cousin Jazz fell down the stairs and broke her ankle... drove her to RPA for early morning surgery. Get well soon! Grim weather everyday - overcast and chilled. I've switched to my winter quilt. It's incredible what a difference it makes. Sleep has been a blessing this week. No dreams to speak of though.

Watched several films this week. Donnie Darko, Die Another Day, Ned Kelly, Ghost World. Was impressed by Roger Avary's Rules of Attraction. Shannyn Sossamon. Evil Dawson. Bravura camera shots. Inspired moments. Scarred youth, BEE cynicism. Will have to explore this film a second time. There's something about it that resonated with me.

Currently listening to De La Soul's classic album, Stakes Is High. Old skool comfort. Can't help smiling when I hear the brakes. Let it be your anthem when you're having a ball.

What a messed up night. I ran into G, for the first time in 4 months. And we talked, and fought, and cried, in the middle of a loud, crowded bar.

Talking to her after such a long time was like talking to a ghost. I told her, "It's very difficult for me to talk to you. It's been 4 months since I last saw you, and when I last saw you, you turned your back on me. It was like you had died, and I was left behind. Now that I see you again, I'm not sure you're the same person anymore."

You remind me of a girl, that I, once knew...

It's hard for me to give continuity to the G of today and the G that I knew. To do so would be to violate the integrity of our relationship. I want to preserve the memory of her as my loving, caring soulmate... not the stranger I see before me today, defending a boyfriend for whom I have no respect, and indeed for whom I bear great animosity. I am not a violent or macho person, but when I see him, my blood boils and I feel like killing him. "You should stand up for yourself," my friends say, "It's not good to let him get to you like that." But I restrain myself from violence, as it is not my way, and I do not wish to alienate those who are close to both of us, although part of me wonders why anyone would want to remain friends with someone as untrue as that.

I cannot believe some of the things she said tonight, although I can understand that when two people start a relationship based on deception and betrayal, they find ways to justify it to themselves, and they do not delve too deeply into the morality or consequences of their actions.

"It's not about you," she said, "he was friends with them before you."

Yes, and I was your lover before he got involved, and you were mine. How could you not understand?

Somehow, that asshole thinks he can have the best of both worlds, and refuses to give me face. Some professor of asian studies he will make! The way I see it, he turned his back on his friends. He disregarded their advice, and risked ruining friendships out of selfishness. Even now, he feels no remorse, and has the gall to say that it is not his responsibility to consider my feelings. His presence makes myself and others feel uncomfortable. It seems obvious to me, that when you hurt someone, especially a friend, they will not want to see you anymore, and rubbing it in their face, only causes them more grief and anger.

I console myself by saying that a man who lives so callously, must one day reap the pain and hurt that he has wrought unto others. What goes around, comes around...

Nevertheless, I love her still. I have repressed and denied these feelings to myself, but in my dreams, they make me happy.

It disturbs me that this bitterness has consumed me. There have been nights when I could not sleep, and days when I wished I was dead. Yet after being so cold and defensive, she cried tonight, and I hugged her, and let her go. I would do anything to bring her back. I loved her so much... it makes me so sad that it ends this way.

And to top it all off, tomorrow morning Danger leaves for the UK. Travel well my friend. I will miss your company and support.

The generals have a saying:
"Rather than make the first move
it is better to wait and see.
Rather than advance an inch
it is better to retreat a yard."

This is called
going forward without advancing,
pushing back without using weapons.

There is no greater misfortune
than underestimating your enemy.
Underestimating your enemy
means thinking that he is evil.
Thus you destroy your three treasures
and become an enemy yourself.

When two great forces oppose each other,
the victory will go
to the one that knows how to yield.

- Lao Tzu

At home on a Friday night. My buddies are camping out at Avoca Beach this weekend, having a farewell for Danger, who is sailing for the shores of Swinging London soon. I want to be there with them, but at the same time, I'm glad I'm here at home, looking after myself, not starting any trouble.

I just had one of those coccooning moments of self-reward that we discussed in a focus group for Philips home entertainment earlier this week. I came home to an empty house, snuggled up on the couch with a bowl of steamed rice and watched "My Sassy Girl"... a Korean film which my ex-girlfriend gave to me. It reminded me of Sylvia Chan's "Tempted Heart." There is no doubt that Tempted Heart is a much better film, but it's always nice to watch a film which comes bundled with sentimental meaning due to the nature of the gift. And yes, I can't deny it, I'm a sucker for sassy girls.

I haven't written for some time. I felt it was inappropriate to continue a story without any significant events or character development. But life is not all doom and gloom. In the past few weeks the little things have lifted my spirits. Night fishing at Palm Beach, walking home in the evening rain, sharing secrets with an old flame, getting drunk at work, listening to loud Jewish party music, cooking dinner with friends, building a new computer, watching Chicago with my Dad at a Thursday night late-session, waking up early to have breakfast with Mike, missing Wu Shu every week for the last 5 weeks, receiving unexpected tenderness from my psychic hairdresser, singing along to Big Yellow Taxi in the car on the way home from City Live at 4am in the morning, being described as "inseperable", cutting my Dad's hair every second weekend, eating imported Cote D'Or Belgian chocolate, playing with Mundi, doing handstands whilst watching TV, laughing at myself.

Some pretty big developments at work. We won a major new account this week. This new client will be our biggest, so the champagne and compliments were flowing early this Friday. My six-month review for possible promotion is also coming up next month. I'd hoped that the big win would strengthen the rationale for my promotion and subsequent pay-rise, but it occured to me today that the doubling of our business may paradoxically set me back, as my superiors are thinking of using the extra money to hire a friend of theirs to fill the gap between me and my manager... the same gap I've been eyeing for myself. Time will tell. The silver lining to that cloud is that it would give me the momentum to slip into a more creative marketing role. My current job involves a lot of quant analysis and horse-trading, and I find it a little bit too procedural for my liking. I want a job where the skills are more intuitive and qualititative, and hence harder to replicate.

A few weeks ago, the Managing Director asked me to film her wedding, which is this Sunday evening. I've never done a wedding before, and the weather forecast is not good. Worse of all, I've been unable to dampen the MD's expectations of the video, for which she is paying me very little. I've warned her that filming a wedding ceremony on a windy beach at 5pm on a rainy overcast day is not an ideal situation, but she wants a cheap wedding video that looks professional, so I'm just damned if I do, damned if I don't. We were joking today, that if I fuck this up, my career will be over. I just hope my equipment doesn't get wet, and that there's plenty of love at the wedding to make up for the lack of lighting. Perhaps I should bring the loud Jewish music along to cheer everyone up. I'm not too happy about having to miss Disaster and Gracie's joint birthday celebrations which are on the same night. There's no question where I'd rather be... Oh well, here's hoping all this good karma comes back to me one day.

Another one of those freakishly accurate personality tests... it's all true! Except maybe for the shortfuse part... Try it out for yourself...


You appear to others around you as a person who is simply 'laid back'. From time to time you shelve your ambitions and forgo the desire for prestige and recognition and you are often considered as mentally lazy. You have the ability and you are the first to know this, but you prefer to take things easy and indulge your longing for comfort and security.

You are very orderly, methodical and self sufficient. You demand and need the respect, recognition and understanding of all those who enter into your sphere of influence.

You honestly believe that your hopes and ideas are realistic, but there seems to be no one around to give you the necessary reassurance and encouragement. You are egocentric. You believe that you are always 'right' - well maybe you are but you have a short fuse and are likely to take offense for the slightest reason.

You are being unduly influenced by the situation that is all around you. You do not like the feeling of loneliness and whatever it is that seems to separate you from others. You know that life can be wonderful and you are anxious to experience life in all its aspects, to live it to the full. You therefore resent any restriction or limitations that are being imposed on you and you insist on going it alone.

You don't like authority and you rebel against all forms of limitation. You are your own person and you intend to stay that way and to get on in the world simply by your hard work and determination.

You really like doing what you do and, more than that, you like yourself. Your attitude to work and to life is that 'If it's not fun - then don't do it'. You want to be liked and respected, not for who you are but for what you are - and it seems to be working.

Wrote this last Monday, but never got round to posting it... didn't want to post again until I had shaken off the depression. But fuck it, sitting on thoughts is like mental constipation. I got to get it out and move on!


In the past few days I've received a lot of emails... some offering comfort, some offering criticisim, and yet others offering news of normal life.

I guess something I've written lately has been intepreted as a call for help. Or perhaps it is simply proof that strength does lie in collective love and respect.

People outside my close group of friends have felt compelled to tell me that they've been reading my blog. I should be shocked... violated perhaps. But instead I only feel the shadow of surprise... the feeling that I should be surprised. At the back of my brain, there's a curious cat that wants to play with these strangers, to discover the impression they have built of me, from reading my blog...an outsider's view of inside my head.

I find it comforting that my words are being raked over the coals, all around the world. I am fascinated by the thoughtful responses I have been getting. One of my unseen readers has warned me not to withdraw from the world, not to lose my sense of self, like they did. There is no question that this is what is happening to me. I have withdrawn from the world. My contact with it is now sporadic and dreamily removed from tactile response. I have overrused the word surreal in this blog, because of this strange experience of dislocation. I find myself zoning out in the middle of meetings or conversations ... someone will ask me a question and I'll suddenly realise I've been thinking about her and us and them again. It's like the rest of the world has moved on around me whilst I am stuck in some temporal distortion. When I do snap out of it, I feel left behind, sometimes to the point where it feels I don't have a right to my own grief.

On Wednesday, March 27, 2002, I wrote "Happiness is having the right level of expectation."

I think that is my problem today. My expectations are out of line with reality. I am in a place where my friends and family cannot help me. Only I can help myself. But no matter how much I dream and rationalise, it makes no difference to the way I feel. I can puncture the sadness with moments of light and companionship, but at the end of the day my heart is just not in it. I can maintain a happy facade for days, a week even, but inevitably someone will catch me with my guard down and raise that same old question - "What's wrong?"

It's all wrong. So wrong. My picture of the world has been shrunk down to a tiny dot. I have become a single-issue blogger. I am beginning to bore myself and others. I have become a drag.

I am not an idiot. I know I am stuck at the airport because I have too much baggage. I have to lighten up before I can fly again. But I can't disguise the way I feel. Feelings are meant to be felt. And sometimes only the passage of time can take them away.

Perhaps the truth is I don't want to lower my expectations. I preferred blissful ignorance to this scarred reality. I had a faith in people that gave me much joy, that was central to my belief system. I guess I was an idealist, and an optimist. I loved my friends because I held them in such high esteem. Even now, I am reluctant to lower my expectations of them.

Some say that true strength is not needing others to be happy, but I disagree. True strength is found in collective love and respect. Relationships create strength and happiness that is greater than the sum of the parts. A man who relies only on himself is a selfish son of a bitch who is likely to stab you in the back exactly because he doesn't need you.

Today is my Mum's birthday, but she's flown off to Malaysia to visit my grandparents. So I got home from work at 7:30pm, fed the cat, made dinner for my dad, ate and watched the news together, then settled back with a glass of wine and played a game of chess, like two old bachelors. Except I had to do the dishes, even though I won the game. It was the first time I've ever beaten my Dad, and he was forced to pay me the princely sum of $1. Next time we play for $10!

One thing I don't like about chess is the intense concentration required. It's a game that demands patience and a methodical, analytical approach. You have to work out each possible move and evaluate the various outcomes of that decision at least two or three moves ahead in order to win the game. It's not a game for the lazy or sloppy, which happens to be my current preferred mental state.

Work passed in a daze today. I'm still a bit overcome by my weekend of unexpected debauchery. After a fizzle of a Valentines, the weekend was looking pretty shabby. But I woke up early on Saturday and went sailing on the harbour with some friends, before enjoying an afternoon beer at the Commodore. Then we drove out westside for a Russian-Chinese-Finnish engagement party, where I stuffed my face with meat and more beer before rushing back to the city for free entry into Jigsaw. After a few more drinks I was getting downright skanky with five lovely ladies. Halfway thru the night, some guy even tapped me on the shoulder and shouted "You the man!" Which is ironic, cos really I was just being one of the girls...

Sunday I was supposed to go to Wu Shu and photograph the anti-war protest, but I slept in and found out it was my Mum's birthday lunch, for which attendance was mandatory. So we had a picnic by the harbour and I ate a boatload of seafood whilst listening to the old folk discuss the pros and cons of starting my own business. Then my aunties started feeding the gulls and all hell broke loose.

I took a photo of some mistletoe before the rain started.

Tomorrow is G's birthday. My friends will be there, but I will not. Sometimes I wonder, if I had not met them at Miso's birthday in 2002, would it be the other way around today? I guess it's a stupid question. Life is like chess, you can't take your moves back, so dwelling too much on the past will only impede your ability to make better moves in the future. Though my life now seems so surreal, as if I am living out one of those "What if..." comic books I used to buy back in high school. It makes me sad that I have to do the things I do.

But I must look forward. I knew everyone at Yaki's in 2003. I have a good feeling about these people. Some of them will be around for a very long time, maybe for life. This tells me I have come far, and this year will be different.

V-day. What a depressing end to a tough week. Worked back til 7-7:30pm every night this week. Punishing myself to create much needed momentum. Miss manager was impressed by the heavy workload this skinny donkey can move. Giddy-up horsey! I should be out tonight. Drinking, dancing, and carousing. Instead, I sit at home, sweating in front of an open window, neck craned to catch the occasional breeze and the sounds of unfamiliar names... Masakatsu, hayes, mead. Thinking of my friends. Where are they now? Mozzies are going to feast on me tonight. I stare into the darkness, wanting to attack it in an amalgam of silver shuriken and bleeding tiger. I am Shaolin. I am Wu Shu. A blackened arrow, a sharpened point of poisonous root. I hurtle through the night... I throttle the bike handle until the engine screams a heart-rending, shameful cry.

I just poured half a can of coke down the drain. Bought it at the station but couldn't bring myself to drink it. Seems I don't know what I feel like tonight. Thinking too much again. Writing inane shit to try and cure myself of intelligence. I should just get blind drunk and pass out. What a romantic night. Stuffed myself with Peking duck, then went to Spaceway for lack of anything better to do. I should just put on Chet Baker's My Funny Valentine and indulge my pathetic loserness until I implode in a puff of acrimonious butterflies and teddy bear fluff. Trying to read this Korean novel, East West, but it's just too hot, and I'm bothered and distracted. Head is buzzing with thoughts. If I could clean myself on the inside, I would do that now.

Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity, to seize everything you ever wanted, in one moment - would you capture it, or just let it slip?

Running in the dark until my heart burns like a hot coal. I propel myself in tearing bursts of speed, leaping imaginary rabbit holes with ankle-jarring kicks to the ground. My lungs growl with anger as they strangle on the wild, scalding air. Sweat melts from my skin as thick as oil. I am combustible, I am explosive. I douse myself in foolishness and ignite a match.

I can't sleep. Had a bad dream in which I was in a gameshow where the contestants have to kill each other to survive. Only one can win, the others must die. It was set in a huge old mansion, split into two identical halves, with a huge tropical garden surrounding it. Men and women, of varying backgrounds and sizes, were dropped into this environment, and left to hunt each other down with only ordinary household items for weapons. I was scared of killing. With nothing but a sharpened pencil in my sweaty palm, I chased the other contestants out of fear, with no intention of catching up to them. I feigned bloodlust to keep them away from me.

Then the phone rang and I woke up. Who the fuck calls at 6 in the morning? After my dream, I wasn't going anywhere near the bloody phone. Wasn't sure if I was really awake... Earlier in the night I woke up and heard the computer whirring away. But when I woke up this morning it was silently switched off, and I realised I had dreamt waking up... Am I awake now? It's still 6 in the morning. I'm listening to Big Youth's Roots Foundation...

My last post caused a bit of controversy. Friends emailed me to express their concern, worried that this rogue state is escalating tensions. Hey, just chill, man. Put those nukes away, dude. Get a grip. I think I've been pretty big about the whole thing. I've avoided confrontation, I've played down my anger, I've tried to make it easy on everyone. But seriously, do you expect me to be okay when I see them together?

I miss the love and laughter too... but it's it's all fucked up now. I didn't create this situation, and like most of you, I don't know how to deal with it either. If you can't stand other guys hitting on your girl, how can you expect more of me?

The unfortunate truth is that it's impossible to not get involved, no matter how neutral you wish to be. The moment an accident occurs, every witness becomes a participant in the drama. In a crisis situation, taking no action, is a form of action. Even if you don't think it's a crisis, even if it means nothing to you, to the viewer watching you on their TV screen, how you react is a measure of the person you are.

When faced with a difficult decision, many are tempted to make no decision. They convince themselves they do not have to decide today. External factors may intervene. The situation may defuse itself. Maybe nobody will notice, if you stand absolutely still.

War in Iraq is imminent. Your investment portfolio is in the red. You are faced with a sell or hold decision. Do you cut your losses or hope for a miracle?

You are an Iraqi. War is declared. You are called upon to defend your country. Do you stand and fight with your comrades, or do you run away?

You are an Australian. The way you see it, this war is between the US and Iraq. You decide to stay out of it. America occupies Iraq, and the Iraqi in the last paragraph dies a sad, anonymous death.

Even so, some just shrug and say "Shit happens, hey?"

After Sunday night, I realise I still have one emotion that remain undiluted and immediate. Anger.

I find it disrespectful that you both appear in front of me. When you make the decision to seduce your friend's girlfriend, or your boyfriend's friend, (the order is not important), you must live with the consequences. In this case, that means not being able to hang out with mutual friends when I'm around. I should not have to avoid you. You should be avoiding me. It's small beer compared to what I'm going through.

I accept that you are together. But if you think things are now okay and everything can return to normal you are very wrong. I should not have to tell you how inappropriate it is, or how hurt I feel.

Have I not given up enough? Must you take away my friends and dignity as well? I do not feel comfortable around you. You have betrayed me and robbed me of my faith and ideals.

Let me make it clear. I never want to see the two of you together, and I never want to see his face again. Sound familiar? Yes, that's because I said it 4 months ago, remember? Even before you cowards admitted it.

Stay the fuck away from me.


I remember when you filled my heart with joy
Was I blind to the truth? Just there to fill the space?
Cause now you have no interest in anything I have to say
And I have allowed you to make me feel dumb
What kind of fool am I that you so easily set me aside?

You made a fool of me
Tell me why
You say that you don't care but we made love
Tell me why
You made a fool of me, you made a fool of me

I want to kiss you
Does he want you with the pain that I do?
I smell you in my dreams
But now when we're face to face you won't look me in the eye
No time, no friendship, no love
Don't say don't touch you - I can't touch you no more
Can't touch you anymore anymore
I don't touch you anymore

In the past few days, I've watched The End of the Affair and The Quiet American - two films that are both based on books by Graham Greene. I've always liked Graham's work. He wrote about colonialism, war and the pain of loving someone you cannot have. He built a literary career out of it. He returned time and time again to doomed love and its allegorical relationship to death and the end of an era. As much as the moth loves the flame, they can never be together, for one will extinguish the other.

In the End of the Affair, Graham Greene's character employs a private detective to steal his lover's diary. Reading those pages, he discovers the real reason for the end of their affair. But today, our diaries are readily available on the net. There is no need for such subterfuge.

I struggle to keep my diary truthful. I don't lie, but I find myself censoring all the time. I will delete in the morning that which I wrote the previous night. Dewy lines of thought that condense in the coolness of dusk, evaporate in the clarity of daylight.

You could be reading one of those mysterious disappearing passages now. Like illicit lovers between sheets, these ideas are here only for a quickie or a one night stand.

Some truths disappear because they have been unfaithful. When you're not looking, they have all sorts of promiscuous meanings and say things you never dreamt they would say. Fucking words! You can't even trust the ones you love.

But sometimes, truths are replaced simply because a few lines of jazz says it all.

You wanted to break up before we grew to hate each other. It seems ridiculous now. How could you think I would not hate you? But who would've guessed? Not a day goes by that I don't still think of you, and miss all that we had.

We may never meet again, on the bumpy road to love.
Though I'll always keep the memory of,
The way you hold your knife
The way we danced til three
The way you changed my life...
No, they can't take that away from me.

And that's the last of it. No more Gershwin for you. You're with George Michael now.

How are you? How's the new job? Where's your lovely girlfriend? Xmas and New Years. Too many faces I haven't seen in too long. Too many questions. Yes I'm still alive. Just trying to stay positive, focusing on what I have, rather than what I don't have. I try to stay busy to keep the dark thoughts at bay. But I'm getting tired of running from my past, from a pain that chases me night and day, like Frodo and his ring wraiths.

The darkness closes in. I absolutely wasted today. Weekends are invaluable, not to be frittered away, staying at home, waiting... waiting... Didn't do anything of note except finish my book, Nabakov's "Invitation to a Beheading". As the title suggests, not exactly the sort of reading material that offers much comfort or cheer. Cincinnatus spends the entire book waiting to be executed. How fitting. The much-anticipated date failed to materialise. If the "3 strikes and you're out!" rule was applied, this game would be over.

I woke up from a dream with an idea for a film. A boy walks into a cafe and waits. He orders a milkshake and wonders if this milkshake is his fate. As the minutes tick by, he knows each sip takes him further away from her. If she doesn't call before he reaches the bottom of the glass, he will walk. But deep down inside, he is scared of walking. He wants her to call. Lots of voiceover. The final shot is of an empty glass on the table. He walks.

Impermanence is bugging me. I was with meiu for 3 years. And now what am I to her, but a trickle of mp3s in her email, and a phonecall on her birthday? And what of my best friends from school and uni? They're all overseas or interstate now... Our friendship has been reduced to postcards.

Who needs forever? Everything has its time and place... and all good things come to an end... but I desire continuity... love... loyalty... things that matter. Please stay and linger! If nothing lasts forever, why do we trust and love and sacrifice? You will not be there for me. You will be forgotten. I will die. The oceans will swallow all, the planet will return to dust and supernova. One has no choice but to be an existentialist, and live only for what one has now, in the moment. Why promise yourself away? Why devote yourself to an ideal, an illusion of security? If you are not a fool already, you will be made a fool.

I no longer believe in fate, or destiny or God. I believe in creation, in the great becoming and being of the universe. When I die, I shall disperse and return to the gaseous state from which I came. My atoms shall go on to form new objects. But my presence in the space-time continuum shall not be denied. I existed. I was. This is what happened. The complexity is beautiful. I am impermanent, but all existence is perpetual.

The story of creation is no singular, linear story. It is adaptation on adaptation. There is no single string of fate, but billions upon billions of tiny intersecting ripples that we create from a multitude of individual decisions. Yours interrupt mine, and vice versa. No one can say to me, this was meant to happen. No one can rightfully say, I'll love you forever.

I have a friend who is beautiful, kind, warm and amusing. I sense she wants to be more than friends. But I'm not sure I'm ready for the thrill and flutter of romance. Distrust, anger, bitterness... it's holding me back. The thought written down becomes less oppressive. But some thoughts are like a tumour. You express it, you excise it, and it grows back worse than before. I've been told I should fuck around until I find my feet. But I'm not sure if that would be healing, or harmful. This kind of emotional cancer is dangerous. I need a girl who can shatter the numbness and restore my faith. I want my sense of wonder back. I want to feel inspired again.

I look at my friends today. Big props to ML, YP, TN, JT, NP, JJ n Miso. You guys were there for me and I treasure you for it... even if you won't be there forever. One love. You are music to my ears. You are the return of the Mack.

A new year, a blank slate, an opportunity to review and renew goals.

Discussion with the boyz. Resolutions for the year. Disaster wants a new investment property. Danger wants to avoid getting pregnant. Nereis wants to improve in all areas.

Study. Learn. Socialise. Strengthen. Travel. Inspire. Be Happy.

I've been spending more time reading lately. Easy company. Other worlds. Sometimes more real than my own. I used to read books to gain an edge in storytelling. To be able to draw upon unusual subjects and structures to create my films. But lately I ask myself, "Why are you reading books whilst you still have use of a healthy body?" The time for accumulating property and hoarding assets will come later, now is the age of seduction and sport! Books will wait until you are old and decrepit, in silence they will transport you from the isolation of your bed, the limitations of your mortality. It seems a waste of youthful charm and ability, to stay inside, buried in text.

But there is a need for effortless distraction and entertainment. Things to talk about. Imagination on tap. And books, usually written by old men, can provide invaluable instruction on what should be cherished in youth. Lessons in life. Keys to the universe. And it would be against logic for a book to suggest one foresake reading until ripe old age, after all, authors must earn the right to eat too.