Tuesday, June 28, 2011

My Celebrity 5.

So every person has their pick of 5 celebrities, they would get to "do" should the chance ever arise. Which by definition then includes one of those special relationship clauses, right? Without any fear of retribution, retaliation, or need of restitution to your "happy union". A negligible null and void contract between two parties when the famous people come to party in your pants. No cause or effect to whatever kind of cohabitation you may be in. It's the quid pro clause, and of course your significant other would have their 5, which you couldn't complain about. No matter how sketchy their tastes may be. 

I have done a lot of watching in the past few years (these days focussing less on the seksii shows in dark venues, and more on the 15 inches of computer screen in my bed), and I want to illuminate who gives me the biggest "lady boners" and exactly what it is they do that creates me that "wide on". 

1. Tom Hardy.

This guy is amazing. He studied at the institution I wanted to go to when I finished High School, the Drama Center in London. So I know some of the techniques he uses to create characters. A fucking brilliant actor. After seeing Bronson, I spent some time finding everything he was in that was available, and gorged myself silly on it. You may know him as Eames from Nolan's Inception. He is also totally fuckable in just about everything he has done. Wuthering Heights, The Take, less so in Stuart a Life Backwards. I would even do him as Handsome Bob (the homo) in RocknRolla. 

The dark attraction: IRL he was a crack junkie and alcoholic who would wake up naked, next to men in strange rooms, with loaded guns. Totally my kind of guy. He has also been in recovery for near 8 years, so is just a healthy kind of insane these days. 

I am a little sad for him because he is English, with English teeth, so wont fit perfectly into the leading man role as per American standards. Sad that he may be type cast as playing the UK bad guy/sociopath as so many other talented Brits have been. I.E his new Batman character: Bane. Also, I hope he lays off the gym visits when that role has ended, as he is way too chunky at the moment. That kind of no-neck-look because of too-many-muscles-chunky. 

He has the uncanny ability to transform and change his physicality, and his whole persona when creating a character, not unlike Christian Bale, but hotter. He is a true actor, subscribing immaculately to his craft, in this day and age of models who look pretty, hit marks, and poorly deliver lackluster dialogue. 

And he has tattoos. Quite a few of them. Rough trade, got to love it. 

2. Jason Dohring

This is a new find for me. Just this past few weeks actually, when I came across him in the series Veronica Mars. He plays the deeply troubled sociopath well, creating quite the sympathetic character. I liked his performance so much, that I had to re-watch him in Lie to Me season 2, episode 11. He was outstanding in that episode I thought. So creepy you could bed him in a minute. I also got the one and only series of Moonlight again, as I did not realize he was in it until I IMDB'd him. I tried really hard to watch it again just for his sake, but like the first time round, I couldn't. I was reminded of how unpalatable it was. 

The lady boner killer: he is a 2nd generation Scientologist who has been married to his 2nd generation Scientologist wife since 2004, which means he was 22 when he got married, and they had their first kid last year, who will be a 3rd generation Scientologist. So sad. It near broke me heart (what little left of it there is). Reading his Scientolobot interviews though, he speaks so spiritually, I could almost be converted. If they weren't so fucking creepy, doing such shady fucking shit. 

Anne Archer's son with his cheap and angry faux Tom Cruise impression really annihilates any credence those freaky Xenu loving volcano people have. That and it's a religion founded by a weirdo who writes bad science fiction stories. 

Still I did love me some Jason Dohring for a minute. And I should remember when it comes to religion, live and let live. It seems to work for him. I think he is totally underrated, and I hope he finds more mainstream work on feature films. He isn't the conventionally handsome type, but you forget all that when you see how absolutely charming he is. 

Hmm since I have now knocked off my two current favorites, I have to think of 3 more who would be in my celebrity 5.  Unfortunately because these are not concrete choices, and I can barely remember who would be worth fucking, this is a much harder part of the list.

I find it's more the case of individual character traits each man possess, melded together in a boiling pot, would create one perfect storm. On their own though? *shrugs*. 

3. These are for old time sakes, like first loves and old ex boyfriends, comfortable as an old shoe and from lack of being able to make decisions. It's a toss up between my first mature gentleman love, or why I became a  chronophiliac, aka gerontophiliac,  and learned to love old dong: Sean Connery

Tying in third place with chronic recidivist yet the not so newly reformed Robert Downey Jr.

For Connery, When I first saw him in A Hunt For Red October, I knew I just liked older men. No explanation, I just liked them.  Looking at the date the film came out, I was 11 at the time. I then discovered he was James Bond, and I think I watched every one of those films within weeks. Even the ones he wasn't in, constantly comparing the other actors to something they could never become. For me Connery WAS James Bond. 

He also worked with some of the teachers from the Drama Center, and really nailed the inner attitude and subconscious state of Adream - and it's sensing/feeling, Strong/Free qualities. Exuding that spellbinding characteristic from his nether regions. 

Ok, so he has gotten on a bit now, and is even too old for me (which is kinda old, I have to say). I saw him recently in some Louis Vuitton ad's… and I just would not be able to get a leg over now. Too many liver spots. Sorry Sean. 

This is why he shares number 3 with Robert Downey Jr.

The fucked up part of me thinks I liked Bob Jr better as a wild child. It must have been the severely dysfunctional lifestyle, and crushing vulnerability yet seemingly complete emotional inaccessibility which made him so sexy. He has aged though, and I find him less seksii than I used to. I don't know why. That and all the styling of stripy suits with the cravat ties. Enough already. I am happy he is clean and found serenity, but yeah… just less hot now. 

4. I don't really have a 4. So this is the bit where I show my true colours and reclaim the word "slutty", to declare this numeral position a celebrity orgy. Well more of a gang bang really. As it's my celebrity sex fantasy, and I would not want any hotter girly competition involved. So In no particular order:

Michael Pitt – from Boardwalk Empire. Subtle nuanced acting with nice full lips. 

Cilian Murphy – he could have ranked as number 4 singularly, possibly a few years ago, until I was turned off by his douchey IRL personality. He also dropped in ranking, because as time goes on, it is obvious, he does not have the amount of range for an actor I think is necessary to have a number on his own. 

Javier Bardem – when he kills people with a captive bolt pistol, in Some Country For Old Men. I haven't seen that many of his films actually, but his portrayal of Some Country's Hitman makes me moist in my panties. From the other parts I have seen him play, I have to concur, that yes, he is a very talented actor. Damn you Pene Cruz.

Christian Bale – mainly for the incredible acting, and his ability to convincingly change every time. His public persona and documented behavior for the last couple of years has been totally off putting though. Highlighting the fact it's just better if I know nothing about their private lives. Unfortunately, the world doesn't work like that anymore. So it's not just the violent outbursts towards his scummy, money grubbing family, who he probably can't stand, and the vitriolic abuse directed towards his crew members which has been well documented. But also marrying Winona Ryder's old personal assistant, with her ridiculous name, who is a few years older than him, and them having a wonderful family life and gorgeous baby. Yeah, bit of a lady boner killer. 

Matt Czuchry – from The Good Wife. I haven't seen him in much, but I would argue from what I have seen him in, his dramatic range is probably WYSIWYG. Still, he is cold and calculating in his role as Carey on TGW, and yeah, I think I'd do him, therefore he can totally be part of my fantasy celebrity gang bang.

Ok, enough of moshing them together to make something doable. 

5. Angelina Jolie - Need I say more? this one speaks for itself. 

I am sure very few of them would live up to my celebrity fantasy though. They are probably all neurotic, self obsessed, nut cases. Dohring sounds level headed, but has been botolised but the Xenu, so even he gets crossed off. The others look like they really love themselves, just a little too much, and if their over blown egos and propensity to talk about themselves (I imagine, just going off experience form other actors I know), doesn't turn one off, then their incredibly deep seated insecurity probably will. Connery - too old. Shocker, I know, even for me to say that. Downey too healthy... yay for him. And Jolie just has too many kids. 

Monday, June 20, 2011

I don't know about all this interconnectivity.

A Photo taken of me by an unknown person (I think) with comment's in a language I can't read. How the hell did it end up being posted on my FB page?

Google Translate says arrai wah?

Jib Nisa: I just like this orange. I really like it. I walked out of the bush at ringside.

Som Tum: Seems to be India's first multi-task.

ดาว หลานยายม่วย (Grandchildren of boxing): I know this. I've been home.

Jib Nisa: He who does what, where, when I was star

Awesomeness... words fail me. I didn't even realise the camera was stealing my soul, obviously. 

Saturday, April 30, 2011

A Wedding to Drug the Masses.

Wow, how times have changed. Yet, somehow they haven't. 

So today is the wedding day we have all supposedly been "waiting for". The Royal wedding of the New Millennium with our modernized figureheads: Baldy Wills and Waity Katie. 

A wedding hysteria that can be likened to a whispy fog with long seductive tendrils that seep into our collective consciousness, making us forget about the ongoing problems of increasing global economic instability and the general shittiness permeating the state of world affairs. Where we celebrate love and romance and the making of little girls' (all women's) princess dreams. It's supposed to feel like unicorns farting rainbows, and designed to opiate the masses.

I think it's a wonderful slight of hand, true smoke and mirrors from the upper echelons of society (the 1% of the population who now own the earth), to distract from the social turmoil and decay of everyday living. That is the cynical me. The one I like to call: The Realist. Actually the ONLY me. Rarely do I display optimism - I have a thesis argument in life: Only stupid people are happy. And sometimes, (rarely), I too can be caught up in the stupidity. 

I remember the last time I watched a royal thing on TV. I had just turned 18, just broken up with my first (like first real love) boyfriend, for the very last time (kind of). Anyways, the day I broke up with him, Diana died. And I cried. About a week later, I think on a Sunday, I watched 7 hours of the funeral with my best friend. And cried and cried and cried. He reminded me the other night. He sat next to me most of the day watching me cry, whilst doing his own running vommentary on the funeral procession. 

As a side note - We liked doing shit like this together. We knew we destined to be long term friends when Sonny died, and we both turned to each other in a moment of unison and voiced the same thought: "Well, Cher will be happy". But I digress (constantly). 

Diana's death created one of those moments frozen in time, where you will always remember what you were doing. Like "Dude, what were you doing when Diana croaked". I think it was like August 1997. Yeah I just googled, August 31st. "I was breaking up with my boyfriend, because I just could not bring myself, to do mercy sex, ONE.MORE.TIME". Awesome. 

We watched the funeral march, the boys, the ex, the brother (I always found the brother somewhat inappropriate), and the carriage pulling the casket, and then the extremely long, long, long drive taking her to her final resting place. The streets were filled with people overcome with grief. I am not sure what I was more upset over, the break up or Diana's death. I hazard a guess it probably being Diana's death. 

We watched it on a Cathode Ray Tube television. Does anyone remember CRT TV's? They weren't flat and they were fucking heavy. But you pushed one button, the 'on' switch, and they just worked. 

Well this time it's a little bit different. I am not reeling from the news that some person I have no relation to is dead. I probably wont remember where I was in 15 years time. And the means of viewing this shit has totally changed. 

I'm viewing it on a PC Hackintosh, which is streaming the Granada channel through the telephone line. Except, I can't figure out how to change the audio over from the computer to the Television output, so my girlfriend gave me the link to BBC1 audio commentary to download, so I could at least hear it on radio over the internet. Which I did on my laptop, whilst simultaneously youtubing Tina Fey's interview with Google. Of course I spent about 5 minutes freaking out as to why I still could not here Kate say "I will not Obey" etc, until I downloaded the low bandwidth option, so I missed most of the vows. But then, eventually, I too can hear them say "let us prey" and other assorted crap, while I listen to the boys who's voices haven't dropped yet, sing about some godly shit. Of course the visual and audio don't really synch up doing it this way. But I am momentarily technologically sated, so I don't really care. 

From previous experience, you so have to DO this kind of event with someone else, to share your bad taste and inappropriate, yet hilarity inducing, catty comments with - it's a collective and communal affair (ordeal). Me: "Poor William, so bald", Me: "Bad move doing her own makeup, too heavy on the blusher", Her: "Yeah, the ring nearly didn't fit", Me: "no shit, she should have lost more weight"… "Meh the dress is kind of meh", Her:  "Alexander Macqueen",  Me: "Really, hahahaha, awesome, he's dead. I thought it would have been nicer if it was Alexander Macqueen" …  Her: "Pray bitch, and obey me", Me: "her dress is so boring", Her: "yeah does the lace rip off for later?" Me: "I was wondering that too"….

Along with more poor taste comments about the wedding guests needing valium to make it through the ceremony (Her's) , and the choir boys being perved at by the pedos (Her's). Also it being a great opportunity for terrorists (again her's)… 

Unfortunately she is in Belfast, and I am in Singapore, so we do all this through the Chat Protocol Adium. 

I look at shit like this:

and I think: Holy fuck, look at the ocean of people, the crowds outside are huge. And those fuckers get a day off for this too, no wonder the traffic was so good. 

I wish I could have done it with Marcus as well. He would have been an awesome compatriot to bring on the bitch fest. But Cara on Adium, in Belfast, with her bleak comments and always needing another cigarette to make it through the ordeal, is just as good. 

There are couple of things I felt haven't really changed within the last 500 odd years or so. The highly choreographed and heavily planned Royal public spectacle, which to me, includes all the subtle population controlling techniques, that fervent servants are manipulated by. The commoners, if you will, who will be emotionally bought off, and blinded by the sparkly moment. The disparity between the High Class and the Peons, visually highlighted and marked out through images beamed across the world. The wealth, prosperity and luxury juxtaposed against a backdrop of what seems like the gross simplicity of poverty. 

I think it is best demonstrated with this reveler wearing the Burger King crown. "I here by dub thee Burger King Queen".

And since you can't do a red carpet royal wedding without ripping apart fashion choices, here is my totally over valued 2 cents worth: My favorite pimped out bitch of the day was Zara Phillips, but only from a distance. From the front view she looked like a sexy equestrian dominatix. From the back she looked like every other frumpy english slapper – the bow, it kills me.

I took my Wills and Kate photo straight off the computer screen using my Iphone. I'm sure everyone has seen everything by now as they have been over saturating all media outlets with replayed highlights for two days already. I always love how uncoordinatedly out of time I am when it comes to capturing moments. I should think about how this is a metaphor for my life really. 

My last thought was this "º-º" when I saw this status update on facebook: Cost of Royal wedding can feed 168,000,000 children for a day in Africa.

This plane costs 94 thousand pounds per hour to fly people. Suck up that aviation fuel and be happy.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Now VS Then.

So it's been a while. And as I look through my blogs pre 7 months ago now, for the last couple of years really, I am reminded by the sense of desolation permeating my life on a day to day basis. Due to no one's fault but my own really. 

So the last 6 months has been a trying time, a crying time, and praying to just get by time. Has my life improved… It's certainly changed. I think what has most improved is not my outside circumstances, because when I think about those… yeah they still kinda fucked, deservedly so really. But for the last 7 months I have really worked on finding some kind of internal (I want to say peace, but thats so fucking new age-y it makes me vom vom in my mouth)… satisfaction, equilibrium, serenity. SERENITY now SANITY later. Yeah. That would be it, serenity. Sanity definitely later. 

I have gone back to a life which abstains from intoxicating my body with depressants on a… well eventually what becomes a daily basis. I found that xanax washes down incredibly well on a stomach full of alcohol. Provided by my "special" chemist, hidden away in the dodgy water cooler. Benzos are no more legal here without a prescription than any other country, but easy enough to get. Bai Moto (go moto), "Ow Xanax, Hah sip" (want xanax 50) - "1000 baht? Sure no problem". I started to feel dirty and kind of ashamed when I seemed to be turning up on my friendly pharmacists doorstep on a much more frequent basis than what I thought might be deemed socially acceptable. While he knowingly smirked, counting out my increasing dosage. It's like an extended pharmaceutical holiday, except not really that fun, or restful. 

And booze. Asia is drinking culture, a paradigm steeped in sexpat behavior. The heat and the tropics and the seksi-ness, promotes full bacchanalian behavior which is accepted and rewarded. And the recovery is starting the next day and repeating the same thing, over and over again. 

Funnily enough, when taking depressants, I seem to get really fucking depressed. Then my brain does weird shit, while I isolate in the 'security' of my own bedroom, slowly becoming agoraphobic, misanthropic and filled with a sense of never ending dread… "what have I done with my life, what am I going to do with my life, what the fuck happens to me now I have hit 30+, will I ever make anything of myself, why am I such a piece of shit… yadda yadda yadda"… It's an inevitable fucking house of horrors up there in the dark recess that is known as my brain. 

My level of self esteem lowers to about -100 to the power of ten, and I end up in a fetal ball of self loathing which is a never ending cycle of self torture. Yeah, it's boring, and takes up a lot of energy. Actually, all of my energy really. 

*whistles*… yep, that silence was deafening. 

So yeah, my husband left me. And really props to him for putting up with my shit for so long. There was a lot of shit to deal with. Aaaand Yep, it's fucking painful. Still really fucking painful actually. And I'm still in asia with my 3 dogs, that I can't afford to take anywhere, and wouldn't dream of giving away.  I still live in a really big, relatively empty house, which I cant move out of because of the amount of shit that's in it, and the amount of dogs I have. 

My maid watched me cry for 3 months, as I tried to pull myself together, and probably totally freaked out at my displays of unadulterated emotion. Poor thing. I don't think I would have got by without her actually. She was a rock of strength weathering through my proverbial storm. When I wouldn't go downstairs or eat for days on end, she would bring up some weird concoction of food and make me eat. She looked after the dogs while I could barely feed myself, or shower, or give a shit about anything. Yeah… good times. 

Hahaha. I would like to say everything is fixed and I'm all better. But it's a slow process. The inner emotional turmoil started rectifying itself by me getting a job on an indie pilot here –  in production... finally (I wish I had never listened to the douche who told me I wouldn't work here in production because I didn't know enough Thai - asshat) . Funnily enough the director was good friends with one of my surrogate family members in Australia. So the world grew more interconnected, and I somehow felt cared for by proxy I guess. It was good to push myself doing a project which lacked so much organization when I got there. To make it work in a such a short amount of time is like a challenge unto myself. It got done. Note to self, nothing is ever perfect. 

The day that project wrapped, I started another job on a feature film literally the next day. I have been navigating through the political minefield, and self motivated agendas of film making in Thailand ever since. It's been an interesting ride. Fascinating to see how people work here. And I don't mean how they perform their duties in the workplace. I mean their motivations. How they go about manipulating shit in their favor. Sometimes I am astounded, other times disgusted, on a shitty day disheartened. 

Being on production is kind of like being in high school again. There are cliques, and niches, social stratification and a clear demarcation drawn between the upper and lower people of worth, with a price tag attached, and sometimes a colour of skin chucked into the bargain. Often I think, "are we not all human, do we not all bleed, do we not all deserve the same basic rights". But no. 

We have unicorns, horses, cattle and sheep. That's the way it is, and will always be. 

At high school I was never in with the "hiparistos"… I couldn't bear their self indulgence, vanity, lack of self awareness, and general exclusion policies. I hung out first with roolly roolly uncool people, then nerds, then people about 2-4 years older than me. Film sets aren't much different. To find the truly genuine people one can connect with on some deeper level than subjects of the weather, what iphone you own, or where you're going to go on your day off to appropriate "coolness", is hard. I realize, I will never be one of the "cool kids". And I'm ok with that - I think. 

I'm a lot, dare I say happier, working again. Happier is probably not the right word. Functional, appeased, possibly? It totally ties into a level of self worth which is unobtainable any other way. The other thing is, I am good at what I do, even though, thats a fucking hard thing to say. I apply myself and learn quickly, and adapt. I like solving puzzles and working in organized chaos. Chaos is something I am totally familiar with.

This job ends soon, and I will have to start looking for work again, and I know I will probably be a bit down and miss it after I stop working 6 days a week, "12 hour" days (which are really 15-17 hours). But I think I have done a job I can at least be happy with. 

As for my husband. I still love him. And I don't really know what the future holds. I try not to dwell on it either, as it's something I have no control over. The dogs however love me… and the maid (the maid probably more). They sleep with me though, because I have the aircon.