Market Girls

As we are rushing headlong towards our almost third market, it has been an amazingly fun ride. Not only because it was wonderful seeing so many artists and crafters creeping out of their hidey hole to come share their talents at the market, it was also all due to the other three of my market compatriots; Tenacious Tiny, Terrific Trish and Trusting Toni.

Wonderful ladies all though it's amazing we even came together in the first place.

Seriously though, all of us have pretty much nothing in common apart from the artsy crafting that basically brought us together - so that gives rise to the occasional difference of opinion since we all have intensely contrasting personalities and generally hail from dissimilar backgrounds. And yet since we are a fledgling non-profit group, there are no specific set tasks and roles for any of us so we generally cover for each other when the other is busy. With such overlapping duties and functions, you can bet it's not all hunky dory all the time.

For instance I'm always alright with a little bit of bending the rules here and there, as are Trish and Toni occasionally, but Tiny is an impossible stickler for her rules. Tiny Rules. Something I'm starting to believe is traditionally cross stitched in large capital-sized fonts on a wooden sampler framed in her living room.

Bet Tiny would so be the fierce black girl.

You know those dangerously tiny lil mean girls back in school that you just know will get their way no matter what? That's definitely her.

So yes, we do go on into the weekly dispute over the nitty gritty of running the market.

Number one on her exhaustive list of rules about the market would be the authenticity of the artisanal product - something which I'm fine with. Unfortunately that's followed closely by the fact that she wants the creator to be personally there since Tenacious Tiny has an undeniable grudge against intermediary vendors who bring in marketable items from the interior villages without crediting the makers individually.

Alright let's not argue over the impossible logistics of bringing every talented basket maker from their longhouse for a weekend leaving their family behind. Add that to the fact that if the sole basket maker opened a stall, she'd probably only have a meagre amount of items on sale since it takes quite a while to finish even one!

So those were my points. Took some convincing and several hundred messages to finally get Tiny to agree - while Trish looked on in growing amusement and Toni scampered off for fear of being dragged into the tiff. Right there you have a small illustration of how things work around here. Whatever personality type Tiny may be, I'm definitely the direct opposite which drives her quite insane at times. But I guess we do need conflicting points of views to make the market work as well as it does.

All About Lube

Just when you think you've heard all you possibly could about Diffident David and his ever fascinating idiosyncrasies, he never fails to surprise us all over again by peeling away yet another thought-provoking layer of high neurosis. By now I should have enough scribbled notes for a little observational thesis on gay hysteria.

It should come as no surprise that he masturbates. Really, I think almost every grown adult male with a healthy sexual appetite breaks out the lube and plays with himself every once in a while. Yes, girls, that's all regardless of sexual leanings and committed affiliations. Think of it as a way of clearing the pipes on a bi-weekly basis, or even on a daily for the more virile amongst us.

And hey, sometimes you just ... got to when the urge suddenly strikes.
Seriously if you're a dedicated purveyor of hot male specimens such as the above, it's hard to resist!

So yes, David beats off as well. Though he obviously doesn't resort to the cheap tried-and-true methods of a hasty handjob since he has the fully functional Tenga ever available at home! Unfortunately for him, diddling with such complex gadgets and gizmos comes with its very own predicaments since silicone sheaths and such needs the occasional grease.

Which is where the lube comes in.

David : I've run out of lube. 
Paul : Just go buy some. 
David : I can't. 
Paul : Eh? 
David : I can't just head to the pharmacy to buy lube. 
Paul : Eh? 
David : I just can't. 

After such an unequivocal statement, how could any of us resist prying?

And there we get another fascinating amalgam of angst, anxiety and apprehension all rolled up into one flat categorical refusal. Interesting how internal homophobia crops up in such sticky situations since there's the inexplicable bone-shaking terror that some strange someone somewhere out there would catch him in the ignominious act of purchasing lube and somehow manage to shame him.

Yes, even that disinterested acne-ridden cashier at the convenience store.

Like wut.

Of course it gets worse as David starts hysterically spinning off into the inevitable What If situations from judgemental colleagues to heinous enemies conveniently dropping by the store just to point their fingers and laugh uproariously at his scandalous predicament. All over buying lube. And here I thought most boys get over their initial jitters from buying condoms and lube a long while ago in high school.

Waiting for the lube to arrive? 

For me, I'd have only one answer for them all. 'I'm using lube because I'm getting off. What about you?' Really, isn't that reason enough to be utterly envious?

If you ask me, to save him the aggravation it would be so much easier to use the spit on hand instead.

The Art Market & Me

Back during my schooldays though I was generally adequate when it came to my academics, few of my classmates would have come to me seeking pointers on mathematical sums or even physics conundrums. Simply put science & math simply wasn't something I was all that interested in and any questions posed to me, apart from those in my homework, would have earned a disinterested shrug from me.

Imagine my animosity towards a particular math tutor who insisted on handing out apparently 'fun' quizzes during our breaks.

It was towards the generally 'arts' subjects, as we would term it here, such as history, literature and art itself that I loved. Brief spells in between classes would have found me either carelessly doodling on the exercise book or sometimes pulling out my latest paperback for a quick read. And like in most any boys' school, there was always the incessant hushed request for the resident artist to draw female nudes.

I'm done with you. Get up and get dressed. 

Didn't take very much for horny teenage boys to get going at that impressionable age so anything slightly more voluptuous than their own childlike stick figure drawings would do. Turned out it wasn't all that difficult for me to sketch sexy sirens in all sorts of slutty situations. After all it was always the naked male figures that made me a tad more uneasy. Kept tweaking the nose of the handsome fellow, kept widening the broad shoulders, darkening the brows... just could never get them right.

And yes, they did make my heart go pitter patter a little. Yes, it made perfect sense in retrospect of course.

But that was all during my high school years. Though I still pulled out a sketchbook every once in a while after, I never did all that much till recently.

With the art market we organized, it was amazing to see so many creative minds under one roof! Don't think any of us walked out of the hall without feeling utterly energized by the crackling ingenuity and inventiveness shown by the many talented vendors who came to show their unique wares. That wasn't even counting the number of brainstorming sessions we had during our painting and crafting workshops which gave me so many budding ideas for creative collaboration from dollies to washi tapes.

Certainly sparked something in me which has me going through several pages of my sketchbook in a day, which is why I've been neglecting this blog for a little while!