Perhaps Love again

Surprisingly I actually can't find anything much to talk about today. I am practically speechless.

It's not that I've had a really bad night during yesterday's call since it was actually a pretty good on-call. Nothing too pressing happened all night long - no dire, heart-thumping emergencies dealing with life and death and certainly no urgent midnight calls from the nurses ( there was a distress call but it was about 10 at night which is still an acceptable hour to deteriorate :) ). Enjoyed an evening of music at the operating theatre - yes, Pussycat Dolls and Gwen Stefani to the utmost horror of Big Bicep Barry, I'm sure. Don't be shocked but we actually do listen to really, really loud music at the operating theatre especially when heads start to nod and eyelids start to droop.

Mostly I talked to Handsome Hui about the movies. Since he hasn't given me a satisfactory reply on the state of his sexuality, I took it upon myself to slip all manner of sexual innuendo into the conversation that left the poor boy flushed pink to his ears. Surprisingly, he let fall that he actually caught me ogling Barry's pecs at the cinema one night - and here I thought I was being so discreet. What can I say? The movie, Perhaps Love, dragged at some points and under his gray tee, Barry's pecs were hard and perky enough to invite appreciation.


Pecs to die for!

Still, for me - the eternal optimist, every movie has its own redeeming quality... sexy actors who'd be better getting naked than speaking lines that they can't pull off, great cinematography but crappy, disjointed script, a great plotline that would have worked better with better editing. Well, every movie except for Himalaya Singh which stank so bad I couldn't find anything worthwhile to save.

Perhaps Love tells the story of Lin Jiandong, a famous Hong Kong actor who finds himself being paired in a new movie with an old flame, Sun na - who literally walked away from him to reach for the stars. Unfortunately for the poor guy, he has never really gotten over his love for her. I have to admit that Perhaps Love wasn't the best example of a great Chinese movie. Instead of paying homage to the classic Mandarin musicals of the old-time Shaw Brothers and Cathay musicals, the movie actually bears a startling resemblance to the spectacular Moulin Rouge. Unfortunately it's only a passing resemblance since Perhaps Love only manages to shine when it comes to the quieter scenes, the gentle, subdued love that the couple share in earlier times.

Still, the songs are catchy enough... and certainly the movie picks up considerably with the memorable dance sequence in the alley - lit up with the glow of a thousand brilliant lanterns - with trashy hookers gyrating unashamedly in an alleyway screeching about love and lies.

Hmmm.. so much for saying nothing. Obviously I can actually talk endlessly without any topic in mind. My God. My ISO is right. Damn him.

Don't hate me cause I'm beautiful

No matter how much we might rile over the unassailable fact, all of us know that looks actually do matter... even more so when it comes to the shallow, superficial world of shiny gay boys with their gym-toned muscles and perfectly teased hair. Surely somewhere in the seedy backrooms, there's an unwritten rule in gayland that the pretty princes shall not date the lowly beasts - and vice versa unless the Beast expeditiously happens to come along with a shiny Ferrari, a swanky Bukit Tunku mansion and an extra large credit account.



I'm more than my gorgeous abs!

Someone I know - let's call him Trendy Trey - was left high and dry in a coffeehouse waiting for a guy who never showed up, and even worse sent an SMS that they wouldn't suit. Yes. A fucking SMS - almost as bad as Carrie's dumping via Post-It.

First thing I actually felt was contempt for the unknown man. Surely, even a Beast deserves an honest face-to-face encounter before being summarily dismissed. Makes me feel that the man is actually a spineless jerk who misplaced his balls several evolutionary steps back. :) And second, all I can tell my friend, Trey, is that he's well worth getting rid of such a spineless creature who judges a person based solely on their looks. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.

Looks do matter but it surely isn't everything. I'm no saint and I'll admit that although I'm certainly no Brad Pitt, I am also guilty of making snap judgements based on a man's looks too. Short of guys who are visually challenged, everyone does snap judgements like that on some level ( let's face it, most of us would automatically assume that Chris Evans is a nice, sweet, charming guy - and we'd also hope that he has the loose morals of an alleycat but that's something else entirely ) but it doesn't form the basis of my entire outlook on a man's character.

With my ISO, I never actually obsessed over his looks. He kinda grew from a best friend I'd confide in to someone whom I'd fuck against the wall just for looking so damned sexy and fine. His good looks crept up on me over the years and suddenly, it's just right there in my face demanding attention. :) I'll admit that with Big Bicep Barry, his looks did attract my attention at first but if I'd obsessed over his biceps and smile, I wouldn't have found out what a sweet man he is, how good he is at belting out karaoke melodies - and what a seriously deep reader he is. Come on, he actually reads about religion, science and space theories that would put me to sleep in seconds ( a freak, I know! ). Sure he might turn out to be straight as hell in the end but that doesn't mean I'll regret making a friend :)

Work in a hospital and you'll see that muscles do sag and shiny teeth do fade - and God, I've seen what sexy tattoos look like on pecs that aren't so perky anymore and it's not a pretty picture. But even with the ravages of age, a sense of humour, a semblance of integrity and intelligence does stand the test of time.

Unfortunately most of us are much too shallow in our youth to spend the time searching for these unpolished gems, preferring to rifle through shiny trinkets that actually don't amount to much in the end.

Gay vague

Let's be honest here.

There seems to be a recurrent theme going on these days and I have been mentioning Big Bicep Barry quite a lot in some of my latest posts. Swear to God I have no idea where I stand with Big Bicep Barry - whether he sees me as a good gym buddy ( God, I can hear lots of people laughing out loud at this comment, including me :) ), a shopping/movie-watching/food-critic faggot freak or perhaps more than a friend. Seriously, if I knew for sure, I'd be making haste for the altar immediately. With the stacks of wedding invitations I've been getting lately, I have decided that there's nothing much I can do to beat them so I've decided to join them in a bid to recoup my monetary losses.

Unfortunately, finding a groom is proving to be the stumbling block. The sheer paucity of gay men in this town is simply disheartening since I've been led to believe that most of them have emigrated to greener pastures. The question of whether Barry is even a registered member of the Pink Squad is still up in the air since I really can't tell. Not only has my rusty gay-dar been out of commission for ages, it's almost impossible to tell with a man like Barry. Last time I pressed him with the Question, all I got was a vague non-committal answer and a smile. And recently when I pressed him for an answer again, all I got was a quick feel of his hard nipples and abs ( contrary to what he says, he does have something cut there ), a quick grin and an admonition to behave myself in public. Okay, we were standing in line for tickets to a movie so it was kinda weird.


Maybe I'd need my super-X-Gay vision..

If he really isn't leaning in my direction, then why are we still going out? Surely I'm not such a scintillating conversationalist ( hey, I know I'm definitely no Chris Evans so it can't be my looks ) that he would take the time and the effort to meet up with me each time I call? Isn't it odd that an obviously gay man and a straight/ambisexual/gay vague man would meet up on a regular basis?

Not sure how I'll ever know the answer for certain... well, unless I strip him down in the gym shower and go at him with my wicked tongue. But if he's still partially in the closet, I'd still likely end up with a fist in my eye ( at the very least ). Then again, I might escape unscathed from his wrath since the man has claimed to be a wimpy pacifist ( so why the hell hasn't he offered to make love not war? ).

So what do I do when I have such funny semi-suicidal thoughts in my head? I head for my blessed sanctuary, the one place I can clear my mind in peace and solitude ( sort of ), breathe a little while and think. The shopping mall. Sigh!

So after I found out that I had a free two days and my ex ( yes, my ISO is still very much alive, never fear! ) had a hotel room in Johor Bahru, I packed my bags and headed down south. What can I say? Wingedman Will's saucy bits about his latest Singapore expedition and his exploits with various hot dogs left me a little homesick for Orchard Road.

So that's where I've been for the past two days or so, blowing my recently resuscitated finances on Christmas gifts. Somehow or rather my ISO - who knows way more about the techno stuff than me - has managed to rig up his computer to be able to surf online somehow. Evil bastard but still a brilliant bastard. Then again, anyone would know much more than me since I actually know nothing :) Almost embarassed to say this but it's actually taken me a while to even master messaging on the cell. Don't even ask me about multimedia messaging.

Perhaps Love

It is late and I just returned from a movie. Has been a while since I've actually been to a Chinese movie in the cinema - as in a Mandarin/Cantonese speaking movie. Usually I save it for the Chinese New Year when a whole rowdy group of my cousins block book a few rows to catch whatever dumb flick is opening that night. Last year I caught the worst movie in the world with my cousins ( and that's a fucking two hours I'd lost that I'll never regain and as one of the eldest, I paid for the lost hours! ), a horrible Chinese flick called Himalaya Singh that is so bad that the director should be taken out and executed by a firing squad.


Takeshi Kaneshiro... meltingly hot hunk

Still this time, I didn't have much of a choice since a bunch of abnormally patient preschool critters stood in line at the cinemas for hours ( seeing that it's a freaking school holiday! ) waiting to open a musty wardrobe. So the wonderful world of Narnia - should I say endless winter - remained closed to Barry and me.

So I ended up pondering the constancy of love.

Ten years this guy waited for his girl to return his love. Ten freaking years, people! Perhaps it really is love.

Midnight movies

It's official. I am an old man.

Certainly not complaining about the age this time since I'm getting used to the fact that I am approaching 30 on a rollicking non-stop roller coaster... much too fast to get my freaking brakes on so what the heck. I'll get there being the great guy that I am ( yeah, I'm feeling full of conceit today :) ). Still I remember when I was younger and able to stay up till all hours without feeling the pinch.

Two intriguing movies are opening tonight at some ungodly hour tonight... Perhaps Love and the Chronicles of Narnia. My first thought when I read the papers was who the heck could possibly attend the screening at midnight apart from hapless street hookers and zealous movie zombies ( and Clay! )?

And then I received the oddest call this evening from Barry who actually wants to go! The man works six days a week from 8 in the morning till almost 8 in the evening and he's still up for a movie at midnight?! Where does he get the energy? What the hell are they feeding the boy/man? Not only is Big Bicep Barry older but he's obviously filled with far more stamina than me - must be all that obsessive weightlifting and freakin' disgusting veggie juice that he guzzles occasionally - since he's still raring to go at midnight! The musclebound freak! :)

Despite the fact that I'm dying to watch both movies ( did you guys know that I'm obsessed with the movies? ), I'm a practical kinda guy though so I said no. Not only do I have work tomorrow, I don't need a recurring sleep debt to knock me out at work - especially when I already have leaking anaesthetic gases to do the job for me.

I guess I am more than a little morbidly obsessed with my sleep - or the sheer lack of it. Since I've always had a problem with sleep ( the fucking insomnia, dammit! ), I guard my precious REM and non-REM hours jealously and jump straight into bed almost religiously at the same hour on a daily basis. Guess Barry wouldn't know that. :)

Still. Yum. Did I mention his stamina?