gimme the night

I was sitting down with a homie yesterday, doing the usual PJ Tea Party circuit. We went through the all the compulsory topics - politics, crime, football, relationships; before we climbed aboard the time capsule and headed back to the hedonistic days of the 90s.

This time around, it wasn't about who-did-what at school, or who-said-what. It was more a 'review' of the many nights spent gallivanting about, painting the town red and brown and any other colour that defines puke. And despite all the holes in the memory and the depleted brain cells that hold the grey matter together, two things stuck out, like a not-so-sore thumb.

One was the fact that we had patronised almost every pub/ club that existed back in those days. Some serious nights out they were. Our tours had taken us from the streets of Telawi, to Sultan Ismail, up and around Tun Razak and almost everything in Bandar Utama/ Damansara Utama. PJ was a given, considering there were only two places of note, DV8 and Waikiki. Just roll-calling the places reads like a where's where. Hard Rock, Jump, Boom Boom, Renaissance, Baze (and all its manisfestations), Spoon's, Spike's, Uno's, Rio's, Twelve SI, Emporium and its predecessor, Modesto's (every outlet around town), good old Brannigan's - the list just goes on and on. I mean, at one point or another, we had popped in every watering hole along Telawi, left, right and centre.

Okay, I know you're going "big fucking deal, so what?" Well, the fact that we weren't working is one; the other is when oh when did we sleep? Maybe that explains the constant eyebags that haunt me to this day.

The second recall was darker; we were running through the list of synthetic organics that we'd ingested during that era. Yes, it was an era. A time when roadblocks were next-to-none; when the crowd almost everywhere was heterogeneous; when one could smoke essentially anywhere under the Sun. But yeah, it's a small wonder my body has been able to expel all the toxins accumulated over the past 15 years or so; I've ingested more than my share of rubbish. Blame it on the times, the age or the crowd. Whichever way, it's a good thing I outgrew it rapidly. No, I don't mean size-wise.

I guess all's well that ends well. Personally, the itch to knock back a couple of shots has subsided. After all, I use to knock a bottle of cheap ass Balailayka every night for months. And if that doesn't kill you, then rejoice, nothing else will.

And as for The Others, well, all I can say is Puff! Vanished the Magic Dragon.

i really should rate this post 18+

Wow, we are already two days into the new week, and I'm still recovering from the weekend that was. The super long nights (I don't recall crawling into bed anytime before 5AM) have really made it very, very difficult to wake up for work. Really felt it this morning especially; what's in your head, zombie. I hope the power nap (felt like 15 minutes) helps later in the day; do need to do a spot of cross-skiing (that's elliptical trainer to those not in the know).

Just a quick note: Mist is definitely the new Bangsar. No, it's just one building. But the crowd, well, it was just one flashback after another. Faces last seen at Modesto's or Big Willy's or Gasworks. Which puts the club in perspective, a homing beacon for the Bangsar diaspora long dispersed for the past decade, a homecoming of the prodigal children. And now that you know, doI need not mention the demographics of the patrons? The music oscillates between great and grating. Drinks are expensive, but I guess that's the only way to keep out the pariahs. And finally, las chicas there will leave you misty eyed. Hot Peri-peri all the way.

I was sitting down with some fellow wise men (pardon the presumption) for nasi lemak last night; oddly enough, our conversation steered towards the subject of sex. Philosophically, of course. Or, we'd like to think it was philosophical, and not downright perverty (copyrighted word alert).

Anyways, where was I, yeah, sex. Specifically, the hardware needed to perform the action. Too technical? How about sticks and pits? Better? Good. So basically, over the years, I've read some literature on the 'erotic arts'; mainly Chinese and Indian (in English, of course). And it's very apparent that Eastern eroticism (henceforth Ee) emphasises more on technique and spirituality for orgasmic satisfaction, rather than the specs of the tools involved.

Think about it, I doubt it's mentioned anywhere in the Kama Sutra that for best enjoyment, the two key figures are 36 D and 12 inches. Neither does Ee stress again and again on methods of elongating appendages and ballooning up mammaries. All they espouse, in a nutshell, is learn how to blow (breathe that is, breathe) and you'll be a bedroom Eros or Nymph.

Admittedly, some societies who practise Ee take things to the extreme; tiger penises and rhino balls and antler horns are not going to make things jiggy in the bedroom. Many wannabe Romeos in the Orient have contributed to the drastic reduction in a number of fauna species. Stop fucking kidding yourself. Cheaper alternative, fool, Viagra.

For all the sexual liberation brought on by Western erotica, it's obvious that a second, more discrete phenomenon has followed. The need to supersize. Now seriously, does anyone really want to be the next Dolly? The singer, not the sheep. Or perhaps, the modern Long Dong Silver? And if these names sound Greek to you, then obviously you missed out on the greatest of decades, mate.

But like I was saying, what's so erotic about plasticky (c.w.a) sandbags or a vericose garden hose? I mean, really.

wii-ing around in the universe

I'm going to sound like I've just stepped out of the Stone Age, but Nintendo Wii is really cool.

There. Raise your eyebrows as much as you want.

I had an all-too-brief go at Star Wars yesterday, and it was quite exhilarating swinging the remote around, and watching the lightsabre slice through the enemy on-screen. The fact that my arm was aching after some 5 minutes of slashing, and thrusting and parrying added to the realism of the experience. The interface wasn't that great, but the graphics were impressive. Pity there wasn't any blood splashing around ala Kill Bill; that would have been uber cool.

And for a brief moment, I was entertaining the thought of actually getting a Wii console; the price tag did more than enough to stop me dead in my tracks. A thousand seven hundred bloody ringgit. Woah! Easy, Darth Vader. Then, once the euphoria of having executed a jumping-slash-like manoeuvre was totally flushed from my system, I got to thinking, am I really going to stay at home and play every night? Or even every weeknight? I think not. All honesty, I reckon I'm more inclined to get a N96 with that amount of money, with plenty of change to spare. But if the price were more in the region of RM 1000, then perhaps.

On a related matter, I remember many years ago (we're talking in the mid-80s here), almost anyone who had watched the Star Wars trilogy harboured secret aspirations to be a Jedi. I mean, what's there not to like (in the mind of an eight or nine-year old): cool weapon, black ninja-like outfit, potent hand movement and agility beyond human capability.

Fast forward a quarter of a century, and all I can say is Jedis are wusses. Really. Come on, think about it. They have this constant constipated look on their faces (the precursor to the Clive Owen look), they can't display emotions (even in bed), they can't procreate (which probably explains the previous point), and they always have to clasp their hands together and nod sagely in front of a green gremlin-like creature. And their fashion options are pretty damn limited; one can easily place them on a camel, if you get my drift.

And frankly speaking, does anyone really give a damn about the balance between good and evil and all that jazz? After watching countless good vs evil flicks (home and away), I've come to the conclusion that good means drinking orange juice in a cafe, and evil is drinking whiskey in a pub.

So yeah, watching Star Wars these days (all six of them), you just hope Vader had just finished off whining Luke. I know I enjoyed watching Vindoo get vindalooed by Anakin 'I'm-so-torn-apart' Skywalker. Given, some Jedis were quite bearable - Qui-Go Jin and Obi-Wan (their idiocy in buying son but not mother still defies logic); but in terms of the bigger picture, I didn't shed a tear when the Republic/ Empire went on their backstabbing (literally) Jedi pogrom.

I must reiterate, I don't dislike the Jedis, I just find them a tad bit overbearing and pretentious. Which obviously made it easier for the dark side (the perennial villain) to pull the wool over their heads. I mean, for how long did they expect to go on blaming everything that was wrong with the galaxy on the darker cousin of the qi-cosmic energy ray-like-midi-chlorian thingy that's the force? Somebody attacked Endor, blame the dark side. Somebody kidnapped the princess, blame the dark side. Somebody stole my sandwich, blame the dark side. I'm suffering from constipation, let's hear it now, altogether now - Blame the Dark Side.

But I reckon the Jedis forgot the cardinal rule of all lifeforms - once you go black, you'll never go back.