Flaunt it (an important fashion update)

Thanks for all your concerned texts and messages re my hair (nil). I need to announce I have abandoned my quest to look like Tony Leung in “2046” (http://dominicharvey.blogspot.com/2007/07/wong-kar-wai-did-this-to-me.html). Just like when I tried to grow my hair like Johnny Depp … it turns out I don’t look anything like the idol in question - so I’m blonde again – back to the old, fake me I know and love. I needed to do this now so I’d match my pink wedding suit next week.
Tomorrow is a public holiday in Hong Kong, celebrating mid-autumn festival, and the next day I am flying to Osaka, so today was the last day I could receive my Ivory Paisley Spats ordered online at spatterdash.com and, sadly, they did not come (the delay was something to do with my credit card being overdrawn, whatthehell?). I feel like I have let down my great friend (I don’t actually know him) Quilty (not actually his name). Nevermind, I will receive them eventually, and I will change the world in them, in some strange, magnificent way, and Quilty will then be proud of me.
Also, I have tried on my new tailor-made suit and it matches my 2nd hand Stetson trilby perfectly (not to be confused with my Stetson "Gun Club" cowboy hat); but Kyoto is unseasonably hot at the moment, so it’s not really 'hat weather'. Goddamnsonofacunt. I also have my silk Chinese jacket and ridiculous Jimi Hendrix soldier jacket with gold tassels which I wanted to wear at the wedding. I’m pretty sure I will wear them all anyway. After all, you’re only alive, and a physical form in existence, once (I think), so you may as well flaunt it.

If not, well, you may as well flaunt it anyway.

Plain gold ring

I bought my wedding ring before I went to the UK (are you supposed to buy your own wedding ring?). Despite my penchant for dressing up and putting on make-up, I’ve never had much interest in jewelry, and I was really having trouble finding a ring I liked, until I saw this baby. It’s a Cartier, white gold Tank Francaise ring and I adore it. It’s a little bulky, with an etched pattern separating it into 3 rings. The center ring is also etched and alternately polished and matt. The outer rings have triangular knicks cut out of them.
My good wife told me I’d have chicks all over me if I wore a wedding ring, because they are attracted to settled men, but so far no one has shown any interest.
One thing I’ve discovered is that it is uncomfortable to applaud. The ring bashes into the lower joint of my index finger on the opposite hand. More interestingly, though, is I have discovered I applaud all the time. Before, if you asked me how often I clap, I’d probably say about twice a year, but now that it is a little painful I realize that I’m clapping all the time – more like twice a day. I guess I’m just an enthusiastic kind of guy.
So much of my life is automated. I honestly can’t remember any of the toilets and showers in any of the places I’ve lived – I think I just use them mechanically. It’s nice to have a reminder of yourself instead of going about your daily life oblivious – like when you touch jalapeno peppers then pee, and your penis stings for ages.

A short, simple post (sorry)

"Pussy's so good,

And I do mean very,

Sometimes it's shaved,

And sometimes it's hairy."

- Too $hort, "Cocktails", 1995

I'm busy, but I wanted to post. This is the first thing that came to mind.

A long, serious post (sorry)

Technomonk got me thinking. The “mental shift”, and the Buddhist idea that change comes from within. I grappled with this dilemma a while ago – the question of if we should actively try to change the world or not.
The idea was that if you try to instill your own truths on other people, then it is a similar thing as manipulating them, which has the same root as the corruption that has been fucking up the human race since the human race started (presumably everyone who campaigns their own truths believe them to be superior to everyone else's, and presumably all such people aren't going to be compatible, so most, or all, are going to be self-deceived).
The general Buddhist doctrine is that you shouldn’t try to change anything outside yourself, but should instead focus only on yourself, and as you proceed towards enlightenment, the world around you will follow. It may be slow and indirect, but it is the only untainted path, and the only one that can reach the true destination.
This makes perfect sense, but I always had a problem with it because it allows for entire generations to be fucked while the winds of change are gently being mustered. While I’m smiling at strangers and conserving electricity some cunt is making a quick buck at the expense of someone who doesn’t know better. This cunt will live a prosperous life and by the time the meek have inherited the earth he’ll be long dead and giggling uncontrollably in hell.
Case in point: US Vice President Dick Cheney. Even if he died a torturous death tonight, I think the life-long rewards would outweigh one uncomfortable evening facing the consequences of his corrupt existence.
I was chatting to a guy once. He was chatting about how he’d lived his childhood being sexually abused by his father, then he’d lived his young adulthood with this all blocked from his mind, then how he’d faced it and how it had torn his soul from himself, and I always remember how he said it wasn’t worth it; how he wished he’d lived his whole life in ignorance, because it was an insurmountable hell to face it. Anyway, I was unusually sober and lucid during the conversation, and he was provocatively articulate and profound, so I asked him about the above dilemma, and he said, “We are all involved”.
His point was, you can’t be inactive. Whether you like it or not, you are part of the runaway train that is humanity, and to have beliefs is not enough. If you sit back and let things happen then you are tantamount to condoning them, and to imagine that you are somehow exempt from contributing is just a façade of weakness and disinterest and subjection.
I don’t see any difference between Mother Theresa and Hitler. They both had Nietzsche’s “will to power”.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: everyone should be just like me. I should be King, and if you disagree I will have you lined up and shot.
No, wait, fuck, I almost had the answer, but I fucked it up again…

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This is a lithograph of Ekaterina Maximova, pupil of Galina Ulanova. After I made this, I didn’t care if I never made another lithograph, I loved it so much.

Train of thought, or, Coming on a train

I got sexually excited in public today. I was reading Yukio Mishima’s “Spring Snow” on the train into Shenzhen, one of the few opportunities I have to sit down and read. It was the passage where Kiyoaki looses his virginity with Satoko.

Mishima is an amazing writer. I have memories of things I experienced through his characters that are as clear and real as my own memories. He’s not a comfortable, casual read. If you let your mind wander you waste your time. He commands your attention and expects you to be involved.
Anyway, I always wanted to do it on a tram; and public places like museums and libraries and shopping centres make excited. All those people passing through, that murmur of language, all those souls, make me want to throw someone down on the floor. But not in public, not with people watching. I didn’t like it today, absorbed in the unfolding of Satoko’s kimono, her thighs, her hair … and the really large man sitting next to me pressing against the side of my leg and back. Kiyoaki’s half-naked body and the rain beating on the roof of the annex … and the stranger clearing his throat next to me, making me check if the swelling in my jeans was visible or not.
It was weird, it grated against my sensibility, but I don’t regret it, I won’t forget it. I just regret the person next to me wasn't more desireable.

I thought France was cool

I'm confused again. For a long time I’ve had a fun policy not to buy products produced in countries that are part of the ‘coalition of the willing’. So, if there are 2 types of butter, and one is from Australia, and one is from France, I’ll buy the French one. Ha ha ha, take that, Australia! But yesterday France announced that they’d consider war on Iran if they produced nuclear weapons. I don’t get it. The US has nuclear weapons, don’t they? They can argue that Iran is not trustworthy, but the US invaded Iraq on clearly false pretenses causing the needless deaths of tens of thousands of people. This isn’t a secret, right? I’m not deranged, making up far-fetched conspiracy theories. Am I?
Let Iran build their nuclear power plants, and let them make bombs too if they like, no need to keep them secret. The West forfeited the right to demand anything years ago.

Oh, and rock on the protesting monks in Myanmar. When I was a kid I was always ashamed I lived in a time when apartheid was legal, and all I did was talk about how I didn’t like it. I feel the same about Myanmar – so clearly a despicable system, and all I’ve ever done is say I don’t like it. It’s just as bad as praying and thinking you are helping somehow.

Handsome man's burden

We have a new security guy downstairs. A couple of weeks ago, while I was waiting for the elevator, he said I was handsome. What do you say in this situation? You can say “Yes I am” – I used to do this, but people think you’re a dick so I stopped. You can say “No, I’m not” in a humble way, but that just sounds like you’re way above it all. I tried the jokey response, and called him crazy in Cantonese. This is a very common, casual expression, but his face dropped and he told me I shouldn’t say that and I should speak in English. Since then every time I see him I smile and every time he turns his face to the desk and puts on an insulted expression. I need to confront him; I can’t stand this miserable, bitter, hurt man anymore.
I’m not even that handsome, maybe he really is crazy.

Left to my own devices

Baby Doll has left me again. She's gone to Japan. Something about preparing for our wedding celebration in 2 weeks. Mark it in your diaries - October 5th - we will marry in Heian Jingu Shrine in Kyoto - I want dancing in the streets, the general public copulating like feral kittens, throngs and riots. I have 10 days to get ready. Why am I trying to get ready? Shouldn't I be recklessly destroying myself?

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This is a gecko I found in my old apartment; all shriveled up and dead. I thought I should immortalize it somehow.

Lady's Bridge

I can't stand it. I want to have Richard Hawley's babies. I'm married. I'm a man. I'm not even gay.

Back to civilization

Back from the United Kingdom. It's so ... English there. I love the accents, still, it's nice to be back in a country where the trains, busses, internet etc work. Quote of the holiday - Uncle George: "I like it here in the country, away from all that internet and escalator stuff they have in London."

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

Baby’s back from New York and we’re busy little bunnies getting ready to go to London, then Scotland, then Kyoto for the grand finale/new beginning. At last, I can be …

Raping the rewards of success

My violent struggle with obesity has taken a turn for the better. After a strict regime over the past couple of months I can securely say my love-handles are reduced to mildly significant, subtle curves. I devised an ingenious balance of diet and exercise that has worked, and I feel so magnanimous that I am going to share it with the world for free. There are 3 essential steps to this regime:
1: don’t regularly eat large bags of potato chips or Doritos in replacement of meals
2: don’t make a habit of being stone, blind drunk every day
3: exercise regularly
There are drawbacks, of course; especially in point 2. I recently spent 5 straight days stone, cold sober, and I can tell you, pals, it’s much less fun than 5 straight days stone, blind drunk. But that’s the price you pay for beauty, I guess.
To celebrate, I’ve drank till 6 in the morning. Still sober, but running out of time, I’m left confused. Must be time to start drugs … I don’t have all night AND day to become oblivious!
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I just got Neikka RPM’s “Rise of the 13th Serphant” and it’s as exciting as I secretly hoped it would be. I listened to it all night, till I switched to Nina Simone. 3 days ago, when “I Put a Spell on You” came on, I started crying. I’d be embarrassed to say, except it really was an amazing moment. I’m sure I have a soul buried down there somewhere.