Been Medicating, Not Meditating

For those who’ve been with me since last year you’d have noticed an absence – you see I’ve been on a hiatus, up in the mountains, living in a bamboo hut, playing the pan pipes, milking goats, milking monks, milking myself, snorting fertiliser and dancing for the crops.  Some of this is true (everything to do with milking) but most of it’s bullshit as I’ve been nowhere near the mountains.  Just away from the blog. 

I wasn’t away finding myself – who needs to with the availability of cheap liquor,  free flowing prescriptions and loyalty reward points at the local pharmacy (handy hint: don’t be picky with expiry dates – it’s not just liquor that gets better with age).   It’s not the first time I’ve been absent for a prolonged period and it most likely won’t be the last (The Empress can be a scathing bitch but she never makes promises she can’t keep).  But really, as the great distinguished scholars and philosophers in history have posed: Does it really even fucking matter?  I write when I can.  You read when you want – that’s our dance, that’s how we play it, roll it, give it, take it.  That’s blog action, that’s human interaction – all of us removed and individual but intercepting sporadically in those moments when something brings us back to the same point – to either intertwine with or grossly repel one other – we’ll only really know which one when that time comes and it won’t be the same outcome every time.     

So here we are right now at that same point as I break the seal I’ve had on this blog for the 1st post of 2011.  Yippeee! Go fetch that shady prescription for uppers from Dr Woo Wang Wong and partaaay with me!  Relax I’m not advocating abusing this or that or anything illicit, I’m just advocating thinking for yourself about what’s right for you as I’ve done for me.  If you have beef with that then speak to my agent (which is me and I’m just going to tell you to fuck off).  But I do want to thank the fine people of the blog’s readership for continuing to tune in during my unexplained absence (possibly to re-read some older posts looking for the point – good luck with that) and for enquiring about my long awaited ‘come-back’ (which should occur not long after my even more long awaited ‘come-down’).  So I think I should try to make a point now: 

When you’re back from being far away, when you’ve been off – off-line, off the phone, off all the guest lists for those get-togethers, off in that space in your mind not open for business to serve anyone else – you always know who the good people are when you return: the people who are strong in the knowledge of who they themselves are and therefore know it’s not always about them when you don’t materialise for a very long time.  And those times do come people – you all know this and I’m sure you’ve all been there.  Say the un-sayable and say, ‘here are the greatest secrets that nobody knows’ but only if you want to share.  Share because you want to reveal but not because you feel you owe or are indebted or feel forced to appease and make that well worn and overused criticism of ‘not making the effort’ go away.  ‘The effort’ is in people being able to look outside of themselves to respect that others handle themselves in their own way, in their own time. 

You don’t need to see who takes the chance to fuck your boyfriend/girlfriend to know who’s real – just be inaccessible for awhile and see how your world reacts – watch the needy ego-centric scum rise to the surface crying for an explanation before you’ve even had a chance to adjust your eyes to the light.  Those who command my respect don’t demand a justification.  Those who demand a justification might want to ask why they need to have their balls licked as an apology for me not sucking them whole when I wasn’t in a place to be fucked with the gag.       

If looking at the above pic makes you concerned, don’t worry – the cat’s ok, that’s premium beer he’s on.  Only the best for my pussy.

 

Not Recommended

Here‘s some shit that I’ve done but I’m telling you now – it’s just Not Recommended:

Take expired medication.  Unlike with some brands of cereal and cookies, the expiry date on prescription medication is actually stricter than the ‘best before’ standard of quality of some other consumable products.  I know this because I took some expired sleeping tablets during my first night in a share house in London.  I woke up in the morning wearing a sparkly silver cardigan that was not mine.  I also have vague recollections of negligently using the lavatory in the middle of the night with the door wide open – no big deal you may say?  Well at the time I was wearing neither any pants nor that sparkly silver cardigan.  However, all this would have been a good way to break the ice with the new housemates.  

Fix a pair of sunglasses with a toothpick.  The right side of my sunglasses fell off.  I’m Chinese.  Chinese people have access to commercial quantities of toothpicks.  We could build the 4th fucking little piggy house with them if we wanted to.  I took one, broke an end off and used it as a ‘screw’ to re-attach the handle.  Why – Because I thought I could.  Outcome – I couldn’t.  I was driving, then I was pumping out heavy bass hip hop tunes from my car speakers, then I was beating my head to my tunes, then I was feeling gangsta, then I was suddenly blinded by sunlight but only on one side of my face, then I was seeing a toothpick piece down my top, then I was seeing a broken handle of plastic on my lap, then I was seeing a damn fool in the reflection of the rear view mirror…

Eat potato chips in bed.  I did this while reading with the lights on.  And then it was bed time so I lay down in the dark, but while doing so my hand brushed against a stray potato chip.  It had fallen out of the packet onto my mattress.  So not wanting to waste it, I popped the tasty chip into my mouth and started to chew.  It was not a fallen potato chip.  It was a dead moth. The reasonable person would understand how easily such an error was made.  Both a chip and a dead moth are flat, crispy and flaky – however would you believe that both these things actually taste exceptionally different?

Take the Mexi-Coach to Tijuana alone.  This was no venga bus people.  Perhaps I got on at the wrong time because the other passengers heading over the border with me from the USA didn’t look like they were heading  into Mexico for donkey Piñatas, giant Sombreros or a mini Ukulele.  They looked like (and overtly announced) that they were heading over to appropriate and purchase heavy duty quantities of prescription medicines  … yet nobody seemed to have a prescription…  Funnily enough there is a linkage with this last paragraph and the first – see if you can work it out.