To you, the homophobic religious nutcase as well as the more temperate bigot cloaked in ignorant conservatism, to you, the juvenile and intellectually-blind racist, to you, the one at work who thinks that I need to be as lazy as you to fit into your culture, to you, the lifeless killjoy who whinges about my pictures and everything else, to you, the drama queen who thinks that the world revolves around you, to you, the closetted one who tries to censor me based on jealousy and insecurity, to you, the man I have loved who brought me down with hurt, to you, I present this song.
A concoction of my attitude towards life, penchant for nudism and modelling, gay pride elements and a seductive beat, this unapologetic expression of self-identity crystallises all I want to convey to you naysayers into a nice little package and is my perfect Mardi Gras anthem.
"Are you looking at me?"
[Are You Looking At Me]
When it's time to show My inhibition's out the window In front of the flashlight That's where I call my home I'm all exposed
Do you think that I care what you want, what you think What the fuck In your face, I will shout, I'll be loud and be proud You can never tear me down You're just a hurt little boy with a big, big mouth You might think I'm the devil in Armani, you'd be right I'm too huge, you can't take it sitting down I don't care, waste your breath, knock yourself out if you want 'Cos it's time for my close-up and I'll show you how it's done
Are you looking at me Do you like what you see now Tell me how I can please And not just be a tease Don't stop looking at me
Peel away my clothes Till there is nothing left but my soul And I'm standing right in front of all your eyes How can you say no
I'm a man, I need love, I want sex, I don't beat around the bush Add drama to some bullshit, that's crap and you know it Don't try to drag me down, that's not the way I wanna live I'm a realist, I'm a dreamer, I'm all hard logic Can't you see we're all different, so let me run with it Do chill, relax, I'm naked, nothing up my sleeves
Are you looking at me Am I all that you dream of There's a fire in me Burning out of my reach Can you put it out please now
This is my first-ever attempt at writing in this genre so please be kind in your comments. Happy Mardi Gras! And no more bad luck for me this year please!
It's official. I have been deemed too sexy for Facebook and they have decided to take down my profile. But then again I have prepared myself for that as I have mentioned in my last post. With this new profile, I have really streamlined my list of friends so if you have been re-included in it, you know you occupy a special place in my heart.
In response to me being thumbed down by Facebook for simply being myself, I feel that these last pictures from my shoot with West Phillips do not adequately express what I feel inside for this rejection actually made me believe in myself more than ever. Short of showing Facebook the finger, I have written a song that summarizes exactly what I want to tell the world at this point in my life. Stay tuned for it, it is going to be great fun.
As promised, this is the second of three posts with pictures from my recent West Phillips shoot. By the way, 3 of these pictures have been taken down by Facebook (each with a warning, the last of which I was forced to acknowledge before I could log on) and so there must be some people from my friends list whingeing about them. Since I will never know who they are, I have taken the precautionary measure of taking 23 of them down. And then I uploaded those pictures again and so far so good. But if you do not see me on Facebook for some time, you will know that I have been banned from the social network. I am willing to take that risk in the name of art. Hehe.
PS: If you haven't grabbed a copy of the latest DNA magazine, go get it! I was told by a friend in the business that this is the Mardi Gras issue and will get lots of exposure. He assured me that bigger things will come my way so fingers crossed! A little secret–I am featured in not only one place in this issue!
You may or may not know by now that DNA magazine has used the pictures from my shoot with West Phillips for my cruise-site racism story. I was beyond stoked when I got the news. Imagine seeing myself in a double-page spread-opener (and then some) in one of the more popular gay magazine in the world in just a few days' time! Of course much credit goes to West, who recently told me that he is going to push for more Asian representation in the magazine. Damn right! We need to start somewhere and create the demand for Asian models and so I think this entire project would be a very good first step. I am glad that I am part of this small progression towards the ideal the gay Asian community is striving for.
By the way, the underwear required for this shoot was provided the night before at a house party of an underwear-line owner when I lamented that I did not have any good underwear (as a person who does not wear any). Talk about perfect timing–the racist incident, the shoot, the underwear from the party, and DNA wanting to write the story. The universe is certainly wanting this to happen!
The shoot took place near Redfern train station in the abandoned section of Carriage Works. There were straight topless skaters right in front of us that afternoon and come to think of it, it was a slight turn-on that I was being watched all this time. The photographer really liked the location and returned subsequently with other models. It was just too bad that it started to rain before we could explore further. Thankfully I had another opportunity to work with West in a second shoot with two other Asian models–watch out for that!
This whole Carriage Works series will be split into three separate posts starting from this one. Enjoy.
PS: I will be one of the models featured in this exhibition and it opens today. If you are free, do come down and see me in all my naked glory!
I remember a few years ago I was attacked by a strange viral disease that my doctor was unable to diagnose. It was then when I realised that maybe we should not put too much faith in doctors and their know-how, especially when it comes to viruses. According to my doctor, there is still a great deal of unchartered territory in medical science and knowledge when it comes to viral diseases. That was why one of the courses of action was to try to kill the viruses off blindly with a barrage of different antibiotics and hope that one of them actually does kill it. Sounds really professional and scientific isn't it?
Anyway I had to go through a blood test every few days or so for a few weeks to monitor my viral load. At one point in time, the doctor even told me based on the way the virus was behaving, he did not rule out Ebola. EBOLA?! Was he freaking kidding me? Fortunately my viral load started dropping and the pneumonia-type symptoms went away. This experience gave me new-found appreciation of the importance of health and how we should all do our utmost to protect it from any possible harm. To this date, nobody knows what exactly infected me and it will remain a mystery forever.
Whilst waiting for my doctor's appointment to have one of those blood tests, I started to write a song to vent my frustration and to express how sick I was of feeling sick. The song is actually not about a person but a relationship falling sick as I felt that it would be more "marketable" to write something related to love instead of Ebola. In this song, the singer is worried that the ailing relationship might make him too ill to continue loving his partner. Although the video is unrelated to the story, I think it suits the feel of the music and arrangement.
Falling ill, falling rain, falling leaves The broken first-aid kit feels happy Yesterday’s tears have disappeared The wind stops as you leave me falling ill
The syringe fails to hit the pressure point of death The medicine fails to dissolve The fever fails to ebb even when the suffering can no longer be felt
There you are stuck in my throat Which I can neither throw up nor excrete As I burn at thirty-eight degrees
We are close to being beyond cure As you and I embrace this cold How can my charred lips smile for you ever again?
Why does the blackout make the pain more visible? Dawn breaks in the grey sky as I continue falling ill
The blood I bleed for you refuses to clot The plaster fails to remain stuck to my wounds Please do not cry for me doctor
There I am at the brink of consciousness Unable to awaken and unable to slumber As seventy thousand sheep jump around me
We are close to being beyond cure As you and I embrace this cold How can my feverish hands hug you ever again?
Over Christmas, I went back to my in-laws' back in northern NSW (Ashby). I had a really good time the last time I was there (details here). Well nothing much has changed over there since then and so this post might not be as interesting since I am now writing more from a been-there-done-that perspective.
The one-way train ticket to the domestic airport has risen to $15 (ie. an increase of one dollar since July 2008) but after having lived in Sydney for two and a half years, you do get used to things that cost a lot more and work half as well as those back at home. I have always thought they reserved the cleanest and newest trains for services to the airport to instill the best first impression possible on the tourists. Clearly I was wrong for we got the usual filthy and freshly-vandalized variety, the type that I travel in daily to work. Well. The plane ride was comfortable enough as we got to the airport with ample time to spare which made the journey a whole lot more relaxing. Roger greeted us at the airport in Ballina just like the last time and we were transported back to that quaint house perched on top of the hill. Welcome home again.
The huge backyard, the shed with the heavy duty gear and the expansive garden with the bounty of fresh fruit and vegetables were all still there. Food was still prepared using freshly-harvested ingredients and the walk-in pantry was still fully-stocked. The nights were as still and dark as ever filled with the same annoying buzzing bugs of all species. But this time round the weather was not as good as there was rain throughout our stay in Ashby.
The highlight of the first day was the chance to put up my first-ever Christmas tree. My OCDs kicked in almost immediately as I insisted that the colour scheme be only green and gold. Of course that worked out perfectly even without the fairy lights which were only put in two days after. Apparently the sequence of putting stuff on should be ornaments, tinsel, streamers, fairy lights and finally the star. Though it is obvious now that I have done it, I still had to be given instructions before. Roger commented that for a first-timer, it was a very good tree.
The next day we visited Ision’s high-school mates. We had greasy fish and chips by the bank of Clarence River in Maclean and later went back to their place for more catching up. We met with another group (Roger’s and Jennifer’s first Australian friends) in Coffs Harbour where I again had greasy fish and chips at the Surf Club (note to self: exercise more or be prepared to lose the six-pack). I finally met someone (the daughter of the above-mentioned friends) I have added on Facebook (under Ision’s command) a long while ago–she and Ision had been friends ever since they were born. More catching up went on, which was one of the main things we did during the vacation.
We concluded the day with a trip to one of Coffs Harbour’s attractions–The Big Banana. Before anyone cracks any banana-related jokes, yes, we all had a frozen chocolate-coated banana and it was yummy (albeit a little filling).
On the way home, we stopped by the Sealy Lookout in Bruxner Park where the line separating the national park and the banana plantation could not be distinguished.
Extreme gardening (a.k.a clearing jungle paths) is always on Roger’s agenda whenever we visit but this time round, a blessing in disguise came in the form of bad weather and we were spared several days of menial work (but not other chores). One of the things they were really grateful that we have done was to help clear the boxes in the attic. It sounds like an easy task but the attic was a very tight space where we could only move in a crouched position whilst stepping on narrow beams to prevent the collapse of the ground floor ceiling and at the same time carrying not-so-light boxes. Other minor tasks included the domestic (eg. clearing leaves in the driveway that could have easily filled several oil drums) and the I.T. kind (eg. setting up Roger’s new iPad). We also did “work” that we knew would benefit us in the end eg. shelling pecans (payout being the pecan pie).
Apart from my usual jogs around the estate (and alarming the kangaroos in the process), we also did the token nature walk. Because of the much-higher-than-normal rainfall, the grass grew to excessive lengths and Roger made my jogging a little easier by clearing a path using his tractor/lawn mower thing (pardon my lack of knowledge in this department).
Then came Christmas Eve when food preparations for Christmas dinner started. Mind you, Jen had prepared the Christmas cake and pudding about three months and one year in advance respectively! Here is the list of things Jen had to do before Christmas dinner (I feel so right at home whenever I see Jen's OCDs pop up).
I helped in the preparation when I could but most of the time I was just standing, watching and making sure working hands were not in the way of a good clear shot (hehe). Note that the traditional Christmas turkey was done not in the oven but on the barby (just because the oven was used for something else).
Of course family gatherings always come with the usual family drama (of which I am not a big fan) and once that was done away with (and once the turkey was fully-done), it was time to sit down and have the Christmas dinner proper (do you know that the English call lunch dinner and dinner tea? So our Christmas dinner was actually taken at lunch time). Finally Jen could have a breather from all the hard work (THE WORDS IN THIS PARENTHESIS AFTER THE STRING OF UPPER CASE LETTERS HAVE BEEN ADDED UNDER ISION’S COMMAND–Ision helped of course).
Just as we could finally eat, my camera-attached fingers went into overdrive and snapped some heart-warming pictures. I then sat down together with Ision, Jen, Roger, Alan and Ision’s maternal grandfather Anthony for my first-ever traditional Christmas dinner. For dessert, we lit up the alcohol-covered Christmas pudding as per tradition and Ision had to accelerate things by pouring the rest of the alcohol in one shot. I guess that achieved greater results although for the best effect, it should have been done in total darkness.
We stayed on and chatted for a long while after dinner when Alan left to pick Deizel up (he was with his mother camping in wet weather whist nursing a monkey-bar-related broken arm). This little boy of three years received a lot of presents (including a go-kart with a complete set of expensive apparel and accessories to complete the look) because his birthday falls on the day after Boxing Day. I totally understand why modern parents spoil their kids (and the definition of “spoil” being subjective) but if I were to have a child, I would make sure that he gets less presents/rewards and more of the cane when he deserves it.
As an aside, I just figured why there are usually so many presents at the foot of the Christmas tree in print ads–if there were six members in the family and each member had a present for each of the other members, there would be six-squared presents. I know it is a very duh thing but I still had to “realise” it.
If not for the need to await Deizel's arrival, we would have opened our presents on Christmas Day after breakfast. When Boxing Day (our last full day at Ashby) finally arrived, the mount of presents were distributed by Deizel to everyone. I got a giant binder of brain teasers from Deizel (ie. from Alan), a class-10 16GB micro SD card (for my HTC Desire HD that was only bought post-New Year) from Jen and Roger, and Chanel Sport Homme perfume and Nu Skin Age Loc Vitality nutritional supplements from Ision. As for Ision, I gave him a Christmas “ang-pow” (the most practical gift a person can receive). He also received black raspberry liqueur from Anthony, a safety deposit box and more money from Jen and Roger, and a cocktail recipe book from Deizel. I like my micro SD card present the most because that was bought under my instruction–another reason why I love Jen (for how practical she is).
Whilst it is nice to exchange presents during special occasions, which I totally understand and enjoy, I still in principle am against the idea because at the end of the day, everything just cancels off in monetary value. For instance, Alan’s present to us was a deduction of our contribution to Deizel’s present. Before anyone labels me a killjoy, I have to say this–what I find important is spending quality time with family and friends, not the gifts themselves. But I guess we have all been conditioned over time by the media to engage in holiday-spending and interpret that as holiday-spirit.
So this brings us to the end of our trip to Ashby but that is certainly not all. To make our trip even more memorable, the flight out of Ballina airport (the one closest to Ashby) had to be delayed for an hour before the announcement that we would be transported to another small provincial airport since the plane from Sydney could not land at Ballina due to inclement (wet) weather. Come on! It's only rain! Anyway we waited for half an hour more and then we were told that the plane could not land at that other airport either and we had to be moved to the bigger Brisbane airport instead. Goodness! Of course the bus had to come only half an hour later because there was a lack of drivers over the holiday period. The journey to Brisbane consumed another two hours of my life and we were finally put on the next flight leaving for Sydney due to depart in another two hours. And this was still not the end of our ordeal! The weather gradually worsened and that so-called confirmed flight got pushed back three hours! By this time, all that was left in our mind was to get home and nothing else mattered (Qantas compensated us with a $15 dinner voucher by the way, which was close to but better than nothing). We then FINALLY got on the plane, took the hour-long flight and got through our apartment door eleven hours later than scheduled. That was the entire public holiday gone but hey, at least we got back in one piece and with the weather around the world wreaking havoc on travelling itineraries, I say we should count this as a blessing.
With lots of Internet backlog to clear (think downloads, emails and Facebook) as well as trips to the gym to shovel away the piled-up calories, we were well on our way back to the reality of it all the next day. Goodbye country life, I will come visit again soon.
"Are you looking at me?"
