Hour of Need

Parting is difficult when you've emotionally invested. The decision is for the better as I've neglected and have spent too much time away from an obsession that once consumed me. As the strain of this is starting to fray the delicate quilt that is one's passion, I have gone back to look at where I started, why I created this, how far I have come.

Collecting fine watches demands time and finances. I started young and have always restructured and freshened up the collection when appropriate. I had a plan in 2000 where my target was to collect a variety of horological complications from innovative watchmakers on the verge of becoming mainstream and selective pieces from the established watchmakers. Each piece invested must also have a story to it. It should reflect a particular milestone, mood and event that marked that purchase.

Then something changed. I became fascinated with stories untold. An old vintage watch makes you dreamy and leaves plenty to the imagination. A fighter pilot's watch, circa 1940s, casts me away to Europe during wartime and the intensity of a fleeting encounter across the room at the Moulin. An old Patek would tell you a story of a generation of wealth to the generation that squandered it, as tin lost its metal.

The transaction was easy. My prices were met although I was hesitant. But I needed to break away from the things that once defined me; starting with my watches.

A little about the watches I sold:

Lange 1 Moonphase

I was intrigued with the history of Lange. A German watchmaker who shutdown during the war and reopened in the 1990s. Lange 1 changed a stuffy industry dominated by Swiss watchmakers. The design was unconventional for its time and the quality of the craftmanship had no parallel. It won numerous awards and made collectors scour the industry for independant talents beyond the main houses.

I like Lange's innovativeness and its courage to disrupt markets. I was once that, I need to rediscover that.

FP Journe Octa Calendrier

FP Journe benefitted from the exposure of Lange. He's an independant French watchmaker residing in Geneva. He was the one I speculated on; the next big thing. He didnt disappoint. He's today feted by the industry and sets the benchmark for independants aiming to succeed. I wear the watch he wears and told him so in writing. He wrote back thanking me for my faith.

I took 6 months of research before buying this watch although I didnt exactly pay for it. It was in return for a favour. His business has since flourished.

I sold at the prices I bought. Perhaps, I could've done better but the watches are in good hands and he's wants to look at my other watches. Somehow, I think he wants to know my story.

Anyone keen on buying some cars?

Annoyingly Funny!

Today, I heard a joke. It was actually very funny.

It was so funny that I didnt just Laugh Out Loud. I went HAHAHAHA!!! with caps and multiple exclamations while rolling on the floor laughing my ass off.

People looking in started laughing too. It wasnt because they heard the very funny joke. They were laughing out pretty loud at me who acted funny because of that ridiculously funny joke.

I wanted to confirm the funny. So I heard it in my head. It was so contagiously funny because not only my head went funny but my hands and legs gesticulated in a slapstickly funny manner. My sides went a splitting and I may have peed but I wasnt too sure because I spilled my green tea.

I bet you guys would have found it deliriously funny and blog about it too.

A Marked Man

I was 9 when I stopped being smart. Mrs Chan said nobody likes a Mr Know All. I decided to be cool.

So I became addicted to Ultraman.

I was 13 when I stopped crying. Wei Jin said that I must learn to hide my feelings. I learn too well.

So I dont sleep much.

I was 20 when I stopped asking for money. I told my dad I needed money for rent. He send a cheque for the exact amount.

So I didnt eat much.

I was 29 for a long time. Some thirty year old said life starts at 30. But I enjoyed my 29s.

So I grew other ways.

I was 32 when I started my own business. An old man said you'll succeed if you believe in the struggle.

So I sold the business.

I am today for what I could never be if I was what I could be.

Pointless Political Post

Its not often you get an eclectic collection of politicans, pensioners and poets in a room. The ostracized politicans from Mahathir's regime namely, Tun Musa and Datuk Seri Anwar, shared private and long exchanges together oblivious to the observant crowd. Tun Salleh was consumed by the banquet and didnt offer fodder. He's no politican.

There were other Ministers past and present. Together with both the bekas DPM, they were charm personified. Only politicans shake ALL hands and laugh at ALL jokes. The lobbyists and moneyed are no better when in their company.

I had a good laugh too. At everyone including myself.

In most armies of the world, sex is repressed so that the soldier becomes very dangerous. He wants to hit hard, he wants to be violent. The American soldiers are allowed some sexual outlet to the extent that their potency at warfare is affected. Its been reported that at least 30% of the soldiers do not use their weapons. A sexually satisfied person is not really interested in killing.

Its a strange fact that whenever a society has been affluent and sexually free, it was destroyed by poor, backward and repressive societies. That was the fate of the Greek and Roman empires. That is probably going to be the fate of the Americans.

There's probably no correlation on the above to the ongoing Middle East crisis or the domestic dispute. It makes nice conversation when talking to politicans. Totally screws them up.

No Hope

Its really funky when someone looks up to you. Especially an Oxford graduate who's been working abroad for the last few years.

So I bullshit as usual and as usual he thinks I'm beyond him. All because I told him I write occasionally. I Laugh Out Loud with you folks.

I showed him my blog through my tree geez phone no less. He went "Wow! UNCLE, not Bad!! So I said disagreed, "Really I'm BAD".

"No, I can tell you're really sweet, UNCLE." " Tell me the secret of your success."

Now he wants a tattoo too.

* After writing this post and before he slept, sicko pee-d into the laundry basket. Dont offer him champagne today if you meet him.

Sicko At Work

The 100th post is a dozen short, a year of posts is mere months away. It is neither my birthday nor my sorrow that makes this post. This blog is meant to be apolitical, asexual and astute. It is void of emotional conflicts so it doesn’t reveal the vulnerability and pompousness of the writer. There are occasional lapses but mostly it is tempered so that the message is not clouded. When I write funny, I could be grieving and when my words look clever, I could be pissed out of my liver.

No wonder the blog is absolutely boring.

But it keeps me sane. That’s important.

Some SICism

The perennial battle of the sexes is not one that concerns this blog as;

the writer is not representative of the average male. *coughs*
And,
a debate is about conflicting views. There is no meeting of minds, let alone outcome.

Although, according to Sicism;

Its clear to see if one can see clearly,
That our differences are to be celebrated,
In spite of them.

Amen-d to that.