champagne supernova

Sigh.

The final nail in the coffin. Ladies and gentlemen, it's been confirmed, I am averse to grape-derived alcoholic beverages. The proverbial nail was the champagne on Sunday. Dammit! I've constantly maintained my lack of compatibility with wine, but I was pretty sure that it would not apply to sparkling wine, and champagne in particular. Boy, was I wrong! A couple of sips, and I could feel the 'Men At Work' sign going up in my brain, indicating some major drilling work in the pipeline. And by the fourth sip, I could feel the rumble in my sternum; one more sip, and you ascend the throne, it clearly said. Ah well, I'll stick to good ol' whiskey and rye from now on; even beer is beginning to take a toll on my digestive tract. Looks like when it comes to social beverages, I'm only into 'fine drinking'. Not such a bad thing; has Bond ever ordered a Bud? No? Point proven.

On another note, the siege mentality is up again. I know why, I'm just not going to get into it. And I think despite all the literature handed down, instinct dominates reason and theories. Walk in my shoes, then tell me how it feels. In a way, I do great injustice to the innate aptitude within me; instinct has more often than not been more prevalent than reflex when involving troubled times. And that's how it's going to be, for quite a while. Indefinitely. Until I alone decide otherwise. But yeah, the epiphany after four mugs of beer, one glass of champagne, a Kahlua and a shot of Bailey's. Realising my 'longcomings' after hearing about someone else's shortcomings has put things in perspective. Now, I delve inwards and pound sentiment into submission, shattering it beyond repair. Now I cut the Gordian knot that is the emotions which bind me in a fix. And I'm loving it, surprisingly enough. Am I deluding myself? Perhaps. Then again, do I give a flying fuck? Not really. And how am I going to go about it? Erm, by shopping?

Aahh shopping, I really need to get started on working the credit cards. Before the masses of uncivilised monkeys and apes descend upon every shopping mall in the city. The shopping list is short, but expensive. Another pair of shoes (maybe two), a wallet, a belt, couple of pairs of pants, shirts, EDT and maybe a new watch. And I haven't even started on my Christmas list yet. December is the nicest time of the year; it's also the most expensive one. Notwithstanding current microeconomic affairs, gifts are a given during the Yuletide merriment, and I do intend to be a tad more creative when it comes to choice. I've got meself the camera already, so that's a tick on my wishlist. I won't be fattening up the coffers of Times or Borders or MPH this time around; there are about 15 books on the waiting-to-be-read queue, and another two that have not been read to the fullest.

(Note to self: I really should stop munching on almonds, they're bloody addictive)

Speaking of which (blowing money), did a double header of Frangi's over the weekend. The last time I checked out the place was more than a couple of years ago, and I was pleasantly (if not mildly) surprised to discover that they play retro tunes all night long on Sundays. Not the usual rubbish that passes off as 80's hits in most joints, but a proper and diverse selection of jingles from the era of hairsprays, mousse, padded jackets and mullets. The less said about Friday nights, however, the better (wink wink). It's not as bad as Liquid used to be (is it still operating?). But overall, a friendly DJ, pleasant bartenders and yummy drinks...contentment all around. Well worth the RM 300+ spent. Also knocked back a couple of beers at the adjacent Gypsy Bar (I think); reasonably priced beer, coupled with a general aura of dodginess. Any place which has a majority of waitresses sporting Spanish accents doesn't inspire decency or style but like I said, affordable beer.

Hmm, drinking-EQ-shopping-clubbing; I seem to be hopping from topic to topic quicker than a Malaysian 'frog'. I should refrain from that, don't think it makes for smooth reading. Or does it break the droning monotony of the same issue? No feedback required, cause I don't really give a damn, dearies. What does stir up emotions, however, is this - how does one mess up so badly that one does not elicit any form of sentiment? I'm taken aback, to the point of incredulity. Honestly.

how do you do? i'm a curser.

So there's this song, you see. And it goes a little something like this, f*#k this and f*#k that and ya-dee-f*#^*^g-daa.

Yeah, you guessed it. Tupac and the song which probably got him killed. You want to know what anger's all about, give the song your ear. Quite a danceable number, surprisingly; most rap crap don't cater for sweet moves. But this isn't about rap, or Tupac or even the song. It's about people who feel the need to add a f*#k to every sentence they script on their blogs.

A remarkable word that has been flogged to death, both here and in the afterlife. It's eyebrow-raising, and rather juvenile, and that's being kind. It's akin to a young child who has just learnt his/her first word.

Somewhere along the way, certain literary and silverscreen icons influenced a generation of writers to use f*#k in their 'masterpieces' with wild abandon. It now appears that blogland is inundated with Irvine Welsh wannabes; I'm assuming this is a phenomenon that has long been a feature of blogspot and blogdrive and wordpress, to name some popular sites. It's now a' la mode to be some cigarette-puffing, liquor-guzzling, la petite mort-seeking blog writer, who's against various forms of commercialisation and conformity; an individual who loathes uniformity and same-sameness; a person who's too cool for many things. In short, a figure who's under the misguided impression that he or she is some sort of suffering Bohemian artist.

Big f*#^%@g yawn.

This whole me-against-the world jazz (yet another Tupac hit) is so bloody overplayed. It's as though some souls actually want circumstances to conspire against them so that they can bitch about how the world has f*^#@d them twice over. Look closely, and you'll see the 'L' right smack on top of the third eye. I reckon it's snobbishness evolved. Those days it was merely bluebloods turning their noses when faced with rednecks; now it's troubled individuals trying to look down on people without issues.

How twisted we have become, to view happiness with contempt, to embrace misery like a long-lost lover.

Oh, what's that you say, freedom of speech? Damn, you got me there. Sigh, I guess this is nothing more than a rant, since people should be allowed to write whatever they want on their blogs, no matter how boring or pretentious their posts are. Pretentious; that's the word I was looking for. My advice? Cut the melodramatics and smell the fresh air (cigarette smoke and all).

N'est-ce pas?

do they know it's christmas...

December is, without a doubt, the most exciting month of the year.

The most costly one too, I'll concede.

Most people tend to be more light-hearted and laidback (barring the Grinches and Scrooges) this time of the year, and almost everyone has a getaway planned. Whether Bali or Phuket or Langkawi, beaches usually top the poll of most visited places in December. What was used to be a Western ritual of flocking to the various islands around the world is now fervously practised by many an Asian. Personally, there's nothing more satisfying than lying on the beach and whiling the last vestiges of the year away.

And even if you can't escape from the concrete jungle, one word: parties. Every club in town is busy decking the halls with boughs of holly, and barrels of beer for good measure. No doubt, the price of alcohol will be exorbitantly high during the Christmas and New Year's Eve nights, but what the heck, "it's my party, and I'll drink if I want to."

But yeah, back to December. I don't know about you, but I'm inundated with warmth and feelings of goodwill towards Man whenever I loiter in the various shopping malls in KL during this festive month. Brings back memories of all those yearly trips to Singapore during my younger years (ages 8 to 12); we (meaning my family and I) never failed to head down to Orchard Road in December. However, I can say that KL is now almost on par with Singapore in terms of Yuletide festivities and the commercialisation of Christmas, in general. Perhaps there's no Orchard Road here, but we can't have the cake and eat it, right?We may not have chestnuts roasting by the fireplace, but we do have roasted chestnuts in Jusco and Tesco and Giant. And Jack Frost may not nip at your nose, but Jack Daniels definitely will.

All of which explains why I'm rarely agro this time of the year. Don't get me wrong; I still face idiots and morons by the dozens every single day (they never take a break), but revelling in Christmas carols, I tend to blot them out of existence. Because I'm walking in a winter wonderland. Alright, that was cheesy, but message relayed.

And because I'm feeling cordial towards Mankind, I'll even ignore the inconsiderate fools who clog up the walkways in MidValley and Curve and KLCC snapping pictures of Christmas trees and decorations; some even take their annual family portraits, nestled among the pine leaves and gaudy decorations.

So yeah, December is finally upon us (I was supposed to have put up this post on 1 Dec), and the Yuletide cheer and New Year resolutions are fast closing in; for some, they're already here. Dust off those leaves and tree stands, polish the gold and red and white balls, and test the many tiny bulbs. It's time to practise those ho-ho-hos and songs that go on and on about snow, goodwill and food, delicious food. And don't forget the wine and whiskey and port and sherry; after all, 'tis a time to be gay and merry.