The Devil's Back, Sicko

I'm not sure who's more deluded; the buyer or the seller. Everytime I sit naked reading random posts about faceless persons getting good deals from buying vintage wine or dresses, my pubes get twisted in knots. Then they curl up and fall off.

There is this ongoing debate about the definition of Vintage. Dont bother checking dicktionary.com or waikikipedia because its non conclusive as we speak. But it wouldnt be wrong to assume that (in the case of wine) vintage would mean exceptional quality and exceptionally high price because of limited production or stock. A 1958 Burgundy may be a very good year but a 1962 is vintage. Carpfish?

I remember the time I had the Macallan 25 year old. The nose was deep, rich and sweet. And beneath the oily characteristic, cocoa and a rich maltiness were discovered. The taste was lusciously silky with an initial sweetness of sherry giving way to a crescendo of cocoa (notes from the bottle,what do I know). The long and dry finish rested satisfyingly on my palate.

After finishing that bottle, we settled for the token Black Label. I couldnt tell the difference. Even the jokes were recycled albeit packaged differently.

Thats why I need my clothes back. This naked routine is getting old.

The Devil's going, Sicko!

Late last night, I had a shower. Naturally, I was stark naked but I wasnt cold. A few shots of the Glenmorangie Sherry Casked single malt left my palate smoky sweet with a crushed toffee and sweet-malted cereal character. The 46% alcohol content kept me warm and my pores dry.

I got off the shower the next day. It was just past midnight but I was excited about today. The plane leaves in a few hours and I figured that I've enough clean underwear.

Not that it really matters.

The Devil's Here, Sicko

I started this post last night. Naked with a glass of chardonnay. The fruity characteristic of the white perked me up to the extent I was doing 3 things at once. Listening to Chinese Opera while watching the World Darts Matchplay (thanks Yati. :p) made this post incoherent. No conversations were heard this time though.

I bought the Shanghainese styled 30's cd last night because it reminded me of the old Parisian Cafe music. The scratchy recording with the delicate female voice complemented my skittishness. At RM19.90, it works better than valium.

People are surprised looking at my languid movements that I was once an active sportsman. In fact, my ambition was to become a sportsman of note. That didnt work out, not for the lack of talent, but for the indiscipline which defines my vocation till today. I lose interest as quickly as I acquire the skills to excel. My sporting CV is varied and it shows that I underachieved.

Squash-State Level (local and overseas)
Tennis-District Level (overseas)
Chess-State Level
Volleyball-School Captain
Football-Right midfielder for School
Hockey-Left half District
Table Tennis-School No.2
Cricket- Captain at District Level (overseas)
Athletics- Fastest 100 and 200 meters Under 12 District Level
Badminton-School
Snooker-Highest break 75
Golf-Lowest handicap 6, currently 8

And lousy karaoke singer (tone deaf, monotonous voice). God is fair.

I'm now dressed for work and its nearly 11 am. I wonder how much longer before I lose total interest in my job.

The Devil's where, Sicko?

Its of those nights where conversations got better as the mellowing characteristic of a strong Shiraz took over. The room was getting warmer and the air was dense with smoke. The TV was loud but you can hardly hear a thing.

I love nights like this. I can do anything stark naked without anyone raising an eyebrow.

A Roman Orgy

You can have too much of a good thing. Many years ago, a stunning night of debauchery and gluttony left me pining for a cold bowl of cereal. We feasted on caviar, Beluga and Osetra from the Caspian Sea, washed down by an obscene amount of very expensive frigid vodka from the stock of Tsar Nicolas. Vintage Burgundies and fine whiskies were wasted and unappreciated. Noone had sex and no eggs were fertilized though.

There's nothing exotic about eating fish eggs. A hot serving of chicken curry and fried fish roe at the local mamak shop is staple to many and we enjoy the roe of sea urchin, salmon, crab and the flying fish. Centuries ago, the Egyptians salted and pickled roe for sustenance and not as a delicacy. Today, caviar is available from sturgeon farms in China to Canada.

I love caviar, the way the eggs pop softly and opulently release their oils and juices. When the invitation came for the party, I couldnt refuse, knowing it would be in abundance. This friend has a penchant for throwing parties to impress. He equates good taste to high price. For a party of approximately 15 people, he would have spend in excess of USD 40,000.

I left in a hurry when the ugliness of decadence confronted me. My puke, splattered across his shirt, was worth more than what I had in my wallet.

Something's Rotten in the Corridors of Putrajaya

The silence is deafening too.

I cant quite place it but there's this sudden urge to register myself as a voter to make a DIFFERENCE.

That will pass.

Afterall, I'm a fat cat, non marginalized non Bumi, who makes a living from the system. Why rock the boat?

I can survive for the lifetime I remain. Screw the future generations. Its their problem. I've mine.

Funny though, how the bouyancy of the stock market has little correlation with real life and real feelings. Just 10 years ago, our happiness indicator was the KLCI. Apparently, institution money controls over 70% of the market as compared to when small punters contributed up to 90% of market transactions in the mid 90s.

And I always thought an institution is a congregation of many small time time investors. Silly me.

The other thing I dont get is, important people fighting over pennies. May toll hikes continue afterall we can afford it. Our official inflation indicator is low compared to others. Our purchasing power is theoretically greater than our neighbours.

Just the other day, I made a booking for a car. I tell you its really affordable. The salesman was telling me not to blink, not to stop and think. 9 year finance is available for up to 90% of the value. He went on to mention that if you default, its OK. It becomes the finance company's problem.

Its easier buying a car than a house. We're so lucky that we can afford many cars as compared to our poor neighbours. I mean, How to Drive a House around?

I also consider myself lucky as my parents had the ability to get into debt to send me abroad for education. Lucky because the debt is their problem. Imagine if I studied locally, my dad would have all the excess money and start screwing around.

Hmmm, he did anyway.

But because I'm smarter now, I also realized its acceptable for men to do so in this blessed country of ours. If you dont, you're either gay or a cyclist.

Getting back to the point of this post. "Whats's Happening, Mr. PM?".

Should I stay or should I go?

Own Self Syiok

The New Year literally intoxicates you into a state of cocksureness. Sure, the cock and bull will disintegrate into carcasses within the next 2 weeks but it doesnt hurt to ejaculate a little.

Since this is the Visit Malaysia Year, the smart thing to do is to travel abroad and avoid hordes of 3rd class Arabs, agricultural Chinese and retiring Europeans seeking dental treatment. My get out of jail list includes:

1. Liverpool vs Barcelona at Anfield.
2. The Angkor Wat in Siem Reap.
3. Trans Siberian from Beijing to Moscow and the last leg down to Prague.
4. Marrakesh and the Atlas Mountains.
5. The Basque region and the Rioja vineyards.
6. Tented camp in the Golden Triangle.
7. Hanoi and Hoi An.

Sometimes I forget I have a job and bills to pay. In event, the bills keep mounting and the brain washing from the Visit Malaysia campaign succeeds, the carcass may well look like this:

1. Selangor vs Perlis at Shah Alam.
2. The ruins of Bok House in Jalan Ampang.
3. The Gemas Express Train ride.
4. Grass skiing in Genting Highlands.
5. Sipping tea in cool Cameron Highlands.
6. The clear waters of Port Dickson.
7. Disco dancing in Kota Bahru.

* got to go. reality no 1 just called. I'm late on my mortgage payment.