Sunday, August 21, 2005

this weekend has been nothing but quick fixes. in and out. in and out of clubs. in and out of cabs. in and out and in of home. friday was rouge, it was one of those had to go to things, rouge was having its last ever dnb night and rouge and dnb go hand in hand for great memories to me. oddly, all i didn't feel was nostalgia. all i felt was regret for downing the two cheap lychee martinis in quick sucession, the come down, oh the come down. there's nothing like it. it sucks, it honestly does. i can't compare the come down to the downside from an illegal substanced high because i haven't tried enough to compare but you just know the exact moment the high wears off and the alcohol is coursing through your blood, dragging lethargy with it. and the only thought in my none too sharp mind was if it's possible to call a butch a bitch. apparently the reason behind cessation of dnb is the butch behind rouge's event management and like zaihan said, if she could bat for the same side, then perhaps she should be more open to experimenting with music too. so....does anyone think calling a butch a bitch a fallacy? i was rather avidly following, or rather, downloading The L Word last year up to early this year; and i am not ashamed to admit that the focal point of my attention was largely devoted to this lovely sapphic creature -

behold, for this is shane. god [for goddess, would be a little off] of my girl on girl fantasies and salve for a frazzled, imsomnia ridden soul and eyes in those mad pre-school days. take a moment to compare shane and singapore's butches. THERE IS NO COMPARING. singapore's butches are odd androgynous creatures borne from the hallows of convent schools and have unexplainable tendancies to end up behaving like bengs in girly voices and oversized boys clothes that they swim in. there is no way in hell i will ever let one of those fake boys go down on me. it's just....unfathomable. throw me a real man, throw me a dildo, hell, throw me into a convent. just anything but them. i always think, when i see passably pretty girls on the arm of these pseudo boys, aren't they better off with a femme lesbian or a boy? what's the pleasure of writhing around in bed with an ungainly body with a hint of breast trying to fend off any sign of feminity that creeps its way into these beings? girly voice with the body of 12 year boy? i always thought that sort of thing was right up only michael jackson's alley. looks like i'm very wrong. support local? that's just one kind of local i just can't do.

the textual siege.

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