Dublin's dabblin' holy water

Every corner is a place of worship. If it's not a church, it's a chapel.

Bo tried to hold my hand in public but somehow, I felt so uncomfortable. We received strange looks from the locals. It was downhill from there. I really didn't see the point why they called it a city.

I felt like rabble-rouser.

healthy option

Lito has moved to this new neighbourhood and a stone throw away is the tennis court.

The good thing about it is..... the court's free. We played from 8 am until midday. A dose of Brufen and Paracetamol is my bestfriend at the moment for it keeps me pain-free and less aware of my own physical snags. Tomorrow, I'm pretty sure that I'd wake up feeling my age.

blink and you miss the scrotum

Bo and I watched SATC 2 in Dublin.

First, I was able to use my student card and secondly, cinema ticket was CHEAP... way cheaper than London considering it was the SAVOY theatre of Dublin. Thirdly, the screen was massive that I could see the indecent exposures clearly.

Despite the bad reviews, I enjoyed the film and that non-stop product placement on every frame and every inch of the film. I nearly fell out of my seat after seeing SJP wearing THAT SKIRT as she scoured the Souk. It was so mad that it was so hilarious.

Groban.... A Diva?

(The Morgan Hotel - Dublin)

Funny how he associates himself to diva-dom status!

Dublin's pride

views from the top

Flying is beautiful.

fat

They say they're going to charge obese people more on flights.

I am getting old and the odds are against me. I need to go back to eating healthily.

maybe, just me

Dublin's City Centre is tiny errr... tiiiiiiiiny. The elements of sun, wind and rain planned this very well to impress me during my stay. However, I must have missed reading that memo saying, Dublin is only relevant.. or let's say, more relevant to those who like challenging their liver cells. Unfortunately, Guinness is not really something I'd like to intoxicate my body with, even in an attempt to impress a friend, a lover or a family. But I guess a pint is not that bad venture to try since I am visiting Dublin for the first time.

In a matter of hours, Dublin City has exposed itself to me like a butt cheek without shame. My partner said, " Dublin gives that pre-war or pre- apocalyptic feeling". I said, "Yea... More like they move to such a slow pace that what is amazing now in London or New York is something they'd come across two decades later". I hushed myself. I cannot afford risking my life to the intoxicated people at temple bar.

I learned something from this holiday. That the Guinness Storehouse tour was educational and the gravity bar offered the scenic view of the city. However, scenic wasn't really the word. The view was lacklustre but the height where I was sitting was pretty high giving me vertigo.

I am sure Irish history shrouding this city is rich and encompassing. But I blame the government for not promoting it well. It's like getting to learn advance calculus without a really fascinating teacher to go through the boring stuff. I see potentials and possibilities. Unfortunately, it ends right there.

I am waiting for my flight back home and with dead internet and lack of appetising menus on offer, I just preoccupy myself by colouring Ronald McDonald like a kid. I simply grow younger by the minute and that must be a good thing, right?

bland

Bo's boredom

Shocking!... I have never tasted a bland concoction of this tea before. Upon scrutiny however, I should have seen this coming. It is Saturday here in Dublin (airport), the weather is suicide-inducing and they're playing world music... enough reasons to lose one's inducement and concentration like the barista who gave me two normal "tall" teas instead of one.

Dublin airport is verging to laziness and idyllic. Any moment and I'd grow roots and white beard. It seems like they have forgotten to open the internet or browse the magazines (read international papers) to see what's going on with the world. This airport seriously needs a total makeover. I see nothing but brown and steel.

Back to my bland tea, why do I feel like I aged a bit during the three days of my Dublin sojourn?... I taste cinnamon and mixed spices in my hot drink but it lacks the oomph. An hour here and I'd fall asleep only to wake up missing my flight back home.

I guess, it redefines "laid back" to a T. It is that laid back where you relax but at the same time, you lose the will to be productive and perhaps, to live.

ale

I know now the real definition of PUB CULTURE.

time

Traveling is like that, a few and far between. It is an indulgence we get to satisfy after living the real life. It is when we find a reason beyond the norms of work-friends-lover-family-pet routine. Well, for me it is.

It is the time to find yourself again.

lunchtime beer

We got back quite late from Dublin and my feet still hurt from touring the city.

... and I had my first Guinness from where it all came from.

ROI - Dublin

'ere We Come!

Who would say NO to that

Lito moved out of his flat last week. He finally bought a 1-bedroom flat somewhere in Vauxhall and as he said, it's extremely stressful. I support that argument without a doubt. I have moved places innumerable times that I must have shortened my life expectancy by a decade due to stress. That's why a decent company in physically moving tonnes of life's hoarding is a must.

It was a sweltering midday. A non-stop trickle of sweat is the last of my least favorite things about summer and it was exactly that, that killed me. Moving wooden furnitures and intense heat worsened my dormant animosity to moving houses. It's like a trip to the dentist really; only dentists are cold, detached creatures who have a penchant for their client's agony and pain.

After a major physical workout, he said "Do you like a dvd recorder Ryan?". My first thought was clutter and more clutter to the living room. Eventually it progressed to ... another piece of gadgetry to fill the barren space. Finally, I said "yes" when French Open and Wimbledon came to mind.



Banality setting in, I thought that there must be a reason why this recorder was offered to me. Now, I wonder how it feels NOT to be physically bounded by clockwork existence . But, will I be able to handle my life well, now that I have more options to deal with it? Is having more options a good thing?

perfect.... just perfect!

I'm laden with hay fever just hours before our flight to Dublin.

Perfect timing, don't you think?

cinnamon dough balls at midnight

Bo just baked some sweet things. Now, how do I top this feat?

I need to consult my new "The Complete Cookbook". Let's see if there is something wonderful I can cook with less effort, less time and less energy wastage but with culinary impeccability on the plate.

the flip side

... when they are not whacking balls during the day.

the other side of spectrum

There are now 3 reasons why it calls for a celebration.
It is because:

- someone's becoming Italian
- someone's now a Web Engineer
- someone's legally changed status

Life's not that bad after all.

hmmmp!

Do not trust the beautiful people and the posh ones.

They also stink.

If you are a mother/father, a boyfriend/girlfriend, a brother/sister (or whatever/whoever) to this person who has a knock-out body odour, please do not be subtle on dropping hints about it. Just say, "Give that dead animal the burial it deserves".

look closer

I'm back to rubbernecking (I must have used this word a million times) today. After a less hectic working monday, I'm heading home to deflect some swelter from this heatwave that's gripping Britain. The heat and humidity are killing me. I thought taking the underground transport would be unbearable but miracles of all miracles, the airconditioning is actually working. I am glad to carry on with this habit of mine with fervent ardor.

How would you feel being next to goths sucking each other's faces? How would you feel if you see that dirty and cracked soles of the man in shorts right in front of you? How would you react to that black woman with triple-D knockers bursting out her obviously inappropriately, badly sized bra? What would you think when that young hip-hop emulating guy sings along with his blasting Jay-Z track on iPod? What would you do when you realise that your fly's open and the reason you found out about it was from the strange look of that teenage girl sat across your left?

We do this all the time. We always learn from other people; good or bad way, solicited or not. However, it seems like self-critiquing is not for the faint hearted and the selfish and the prude and the proud.

As what my close friend would say, "I am perfect!". I rest my case.

grateful

We finally finished the Haemodialysis Health Care Assistant Course.

After the awarding of certificates today, it was touching to receive a gift from them. Nice to have something like:

- two champagne flutes
- glass salt and pepper set
- and a cute mug

Strange but it's not the actual gift that moves me but the thought. It's one of the many reasons why I love my job.

are you Game?

I summon you who have guts to take the platform and speak your mind about something you are extremely passionate about. Please take a Sunday off work and head to the Speaker's Corner of Hyde Park.

Your people await.

Lucky

My memory is bad. I couldn't remember what I did last summer. It was a blur.

Today, after helping Lito move out of his flat and a bucketful of sweat, I decided to head for Hyde park. Company at this juncture is imperative but a quality one is a more than a must. Fortunately, Tess obliged. Weekend is living up to the hyped forecast few days ago. The sun's out and not just content on shining, it's rather piercing and burning. It reminds me of home minus the pollution. The breeze of fresh air is total bliss.

In as much as I'd like to hide under a brolley, I don't want to be the odd one out. Most people in the park bare flesh as they crave for a natural tan. But the tall tree's shadow is good enough spot for me and the deck chair. A snooze is an eventuality.



Ah, good life. At this time, I hate the ingrate in me.

nice and easy

Hyde Park
Sunday
Teresa
and that rare appearance of the sun.

fine indeed

Can I have...

A starter of Escargot en Coquille ‘Bordelaise’

Confit of Gressingham Duck Leg, Morteaux Sausage, Choucroute, Ratte Potatoes, Jus Genièvre for main course

Bitter Chocolate & Coffee Mousse, Orange Crème Fraiche Sorbet & Chocolate Lace Crisp for dessert

and a glass of white wine please.

For 50 pounds, that's not bad for fine dining.

more sun

Although I said before that Winter is my favorite season, I must say that Summer and Spring offer a good downtime from voluntary house arrest.

spot on

The buzz last friday was that the weekend's going to be scorchingly hot.
The meteorologist is categorically on the nose at last.
For that long unabated, stretch of sunshine, Soho Square is teeming with excitement.
...as you can tell from these photos:

if my love is materialistic

I dream of a Mulberry Bag.
I really really really do.

short life vs fun

I get that friday feeling as I wait for my partner. The streets and transport are packed and people look like they're ready to waste themselves and some hard earned cash for some bacchanalia and/or hedonistic "fun". I smell an array of perfume scents in the air and I swear, a minor spark could reenact the Great Fire of London.

But my feeling is totally the opposite of what my body dictates. I long for the feel of clean, regularly vacuumed carpet and the red couch. This is without a doubt a sign of approaching senility. It is plainly scary.

Then as soon as I contemplate on giving in to that seemingly unchallenged disposition about aging, here comes "Superlola". Her bouyant unbridled cheeriness is just annoyingly refreshing. She asked me for the nearest pub in a slow, heavily accented textbook questioning. I said that a five-minute walk in any direction is a pub. I saw that glint of youthfulness in her wrinkled eyes at the thought of having to walk less for a glass of wine. Slightly kyphotic as she walked away, she mumbled, "Grazie".

It's a lovely evening and that's something I really cannot say sequentially without being sorry for speaking too soon. London afterall is like a gay man's psyche... like my change of will and overwhelming impetus this very minute. I suddenly fancy a gin and tonic.

... and a respite from mobile phone blogging.

pub culture 2

City of God

It is now nearly 2 am but this film is gripping enough that counting sheep takes the back burner. Sleep has finally eluded me.

minus the missus

The conversation was good.
The music was fun.
The meal was sumptuous.
The company's great.
'Twas a good night minus the missus.

hurt brake

Sitting through the whole session of heartache 101 needs a full stomach, plenty of rest/sleep and patience. You need to be in check of your own emotions as well so that you look at things in an objective manner. However, subjective inputs as fueled by previous experiences help but balance is indomitably pertinent.

Set aside a glass water and a box of tissues. Heartache narratives can emulate blackholes where you get sucked in and you go home internalising your own existence with respect to how you lived it with your past lovers and how it affects the present one. There's no escaping the fact that you're held prison by your emotions by that savage thing called bitter memories. Your hopes then just die a little.

We know that it's just a matter of time when role reversal supervenes. So let's all be nice and supportive. Wit is not really an essential quality when listening and giving advice. Just be there and be reactively present just like that wall you hit with the tennis ball when you are just learning how to play the sport.

"So you think I should not answer his phone call and texts?", he mumbled. I said, "Just do anything that will make you happy. The things we'd advise you to do is not really the answer. They are just our thoughts irrelevant to your predicament for they're non-existent to the frame of time and event that follows your path. They are what we feel and not really what you'd like to feel in the process. But as a friend, we'd say something you may or may not like to hear but in truth, you just like the sound of our voice because we're here now and would happily give you an ear that listens and understands".

Actually I said, "Ignore the bastard! I'm hungry already!".

making love safe

gay and sombre Paree

by the River Seine


by the candlelight, Notre Dame

How much are you worth?

Her death is apparently worth 100,000 pounds and I'm seriously offended.

iBlog (as demanded)

They say that to make a blog interesting to read is by uploading interesting photos.

Like a stroke of luck, Jeff told me to check out his holiday photos from his recent Las Vegas trip. I thought this blog could do with a bit of colour and pizzazz. That blue shirt was rather a revelation. He paid less than 10 dollars and I said, "really?" in a mocking tone. He went offline before I could tell him it was a joke.

But Jeff isn't like that kind of person who wallow woefully in silly conversations and pull-your-hair-off banters. I have known him for several years now and if you want to see New York city in a way travel guidebooks read like Tolstoy's "War and Peace", I'd recommend that you befriend him and have the chance to get chummy with his cronies and accomplices. They are a happy bunch; they make "Cranium" game feel like the non-stop rides at the amusement parks.

Jeff may act like a diva and look like a supermodel (his inner ego screams this out) but that's not what you'd remember of him. It's because you'd see him in the background of every single photo shot you've taken of NYC. He'd try to add glamour to each shot and rightly so, as he breathes life to the structures that your point and shoot camera is aiming at.

In short, he'd remind you that New York is like home. A place you'd be tempted to go back time and time again (been there 5 times) because neither the Statue of Liberty nor the Empire State Building matters as you explore the world. It's the connection you have with other people and how in both silent moments and riotous predicaments that you realise you have good friends you can rely upon.

It's where the saying, "It's the company that counts" that reverberates in its true infallibility. I guess I am writing this because I haven't thanked him enough. Seriously, my arm's not twisted to divulge this syrupy tale; perhaps just a tinge of hint. But it's more of a tribute to Jeff and his free B&B.

I'm sure I have added colour into this blog entry. I see Jeff turning RED.