typing in the dark

p.s. I could kill you

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 15:22:46 GMT

My mother put a white 200 dollar shirt I bought from Tokyo in the wash with something red. Guess what happened next?

Oh God why!!

beautiful this earth

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 15:02:13 GMT

I am heavy hearted to reminisce about Japan. I miss it every day, and it's hardly been a week since we left. I've come home to so much uni work, at this point I don't even know how I'm going to finish it all. A lot as happened...and honestly, I'm over it. If I pass this year I'll be so surprised.

Here are all the location shots I photographed. From Kyoto, Nagano, Tokyo and finally Osaka.

harajuku^

The view atop Osaka castle^

Shibuya^

I loved Kyoto for nights like these^ I went for a walk one night while the girls were out drinking. It's so nice just to be able to go for a walk without any particular destination, in a place where no body knows you and you don't know them. The night was cool and breezy and I had a bit of an adventure circling Kyoto's sweet little back streets with my camera. *sigh*

Kabuki-cho, Tokyo, late on a Sunday night. Notice how little is going on here? Trust me, it doesn't happen often.

Kabuki-cho, Tokyo, across the street and around the corner from our hotel. This man is a host. Poor little host boy out in the cold, out of cigarettes, out of clients.

Er...it was a shrine in Kyoto, I forget the name I'm sorry. We went to at least 10.

Kyoto station^^

Matsumoto, at sunset^^

Osaka castle^^

P.S. Please listen to this song. I heard it in Osaka while a friend and I were going hunting for a handy 2dollar store. We found one alright and they were playing this on repeat. It's become the soundtrack to my time abroad, and will forever remind me of Shinsaibashi.

-------------------------------

Alright guys, all the pretty pictures have been posted, it's all drunk and candid from this point on. lol

bleachfic: his heart is a desert

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 04:29:29 GMT

Author: visualcomplex
Title: His heart is a desert
Rating: M, I think
Pairing: Ryuuken/Uryuu
Warnings: masturbation. incest
Summary: -

A/N: I wrote part of this one on the train from Tokyo to Osaka on two torn out pieces of paper stuffed in my wallet. It is dedicated to my f-list. But mostly to darktower6 (I know it's not your fav pairing but deal with it :P) who traveled with me and put up with me throughout my wonderful Japanese adventure.

Dusk on the horizon. A desert in his heart.

Imagine the wine-colored beginnings of evening, drawing over the city like a gaudy veil. Through his window blinds, the whorish light slashes the room in long stripes, bloody and claw like. Ruby and mauve carnage on his clean empty walls, his clean empty made up bed sheets.

A thick strip falls across his neck beheading him, across his eyes so that he saw red.

Ryuuken’s shoes echo in the hallway outside his door, they are as black and glossy as onyxes, with toes that always pointed forward like the sharpened tips of arrowheads.

Uryuu at his dressing table, in his thin white robe, a little damp with bath water, stares at his own alert expression in the mirror as the sound of grown up’s feet go tap tap tap beyond the wall.

Hastily, clumsily, he reaches for the comb at the edge of the table, fumbles with it so much, that it slips through his fingers as Ryuuken unlatches the door just in time to see it fall.

Uryuu gasps at his own inelegance. In the silence, the sound is small, desperate, erotic.

Behind them, the bolt slams home.

Very small child, pale thing, grown up child, in his thin robe, wonders if he was in trouble somehow, though it’s fleeting; a nostalgic, long grown out fear that maddens him to feel still at this age. His hair wet and shiny, hangs down straight, a blue black curtain around his face trying to hide who he is watching in the mirror.

Ryuuken approaches at the rear, in the white garb of the doctor’s jacket, which falls to his wrists and then lain ceremoniously across the bed covers, like a bride. His long alabaster fingers brush the unwrinkled lapel as he passes. Then, they are shackles around his son’s wrist, while the other dips to retrieve the grooming instrument. He doesn’t speak, but he smiles a little.

So firm is Ryuuken’s hand on his shoulder, slipping past the collar. So steady, so near is his breath that Uryuu – with a stab of confusion - is reminded of a lover.

Uryuu’s legs are crossed; he crosses them harder and doesn’t look up from his lap.

No words are spoken between them as the sun sinks beyond the sea of dirt, going out in one last violet flame, while Ryuuken’s hand; unrelenting, drives the comb through his wet hair.

Swish Swish Swish. The tangles come out, the water rolls down like tears. This miniature bathwater rainstorm navigates the length of his spine beneath the robe. A hundred wet caressing fingertips, a hundred suppressed moans. Months and years of suppressed words, they sat at the base of his throat, in his middle, in the pit of his loins, a bowstring drawn back tauter and tauter. Never to be released.

He does not argue at having his hair brushed, or rather, he decides that he shouldn’t. Instead he watches the hem of his robe slip silently away from his naked leg, curls his toes, and pretends not to care, as he has always pretended.

The final driving strokes of the comb are long and hard. They wrench his head side ways and backwards but he only stares into the mirror, he only pretends not to care. His insolence, like the rest of him, is exquisite.

Ryuuken’s lips curl upwards minutely, the ones that would not speak, and it could almost have been a warm smile, if not for his cold cold eyes.

It is almost dark when Ryuuken lays the comb on the edge of the table, turning without another word to gather his white coat. The air stirs as it flutters around his body, a little breeze, a whiff of cologne, a lick of cloth against his side, a long but undetectable shiver down Uryuu’s spine.

The door unlocks opens and then closes again with an awful reverberating crash, like the gates of Hell. And Uryuu is alone again in his silent tomb, staring at himself in the looking glass.

Ryuuken never explains his actions. He just does. And Uryuu never asks. He never even flinches.

They are both actors; father and son, both liars aware of each other’s lie, but unwilling to call the bluff.

In the dark, Uryuu feels safe to uncross his legs. He gropes between them for the hot engorged member swelling beneath the silk. The first stroke almost hurts for the silence he’s been made to suffer. But after that it doesn’t take long at all.

Night dawns, and no body sees him rock his hips against the seat, no body knows his furious agonizing pleasure. Nobody realizes the unuttered words forming on his lips. Not even him.

He comes, shuddering and gripping the plastic comb in his left hand. It snaps in half in his fist with a tiny final crack. And it was over.

When Uryuu finally turns on the light and wipes up all the evidence, he flicks away one furious tear that never even makes it past the corner of his sea blue eye. And never says a word.

He lies down on the clean bed as if slain and goes about the business of forgetfulness. He sleeps.

His heart is a desert.

fin~

--------

Pairing poll results from my last post can be viewed here: LINK. I guess I have my work cut out for me.

EVERYTHING I OWN IN A BOX

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 06:10:40 GMT

TADAIMA.

I won't make my big post right now. I'm currently editing all the photos I took on my big trip. There's over 300 of them, and I plan to upload every single one. Bear with me.

I'm sore. The night before our flight home was HALLOWEEN and we went out. As part of my costume, I stupidly decided to wrap my entire torso in bloody bandages and get crunk. Now I'm sore as fuck and I can't even laugh without feeling pain. What a cruel punishment. I never realized what a comedian I was until it started to hurt to laugh. lol

I'll leave finer details for later. But let me just say a few overall things...

We checked out of our hotel by noon. It was the most miserable day of my life. I was hung over, in pain and in the darkest shittiest mood I've ever been in. I DID NOT WANT TO LEAVE.I loved Kyoto, but my heart belongs to SHINSAIBASHI OSAKA JAPAN. Those last few days in Osaka, were some of the best days of my life. We made SO many new friends. By the end of our trip, we were regulars at a bar called ROOM 19 and we knew everybody there. They are the sweetest, funniest most incredible people. My trip was that much richer and mor unforgettable because of them, and I was heartbroken to say goodbye.
It rained on Sunday morning, it was the perfect backdrop. We were all so tired when we got to the airport. We kept finding reasons to linger around. Meanwhile, I just wanted to drop my suitcase and run, I would've lived on the street if it meant I could stay. It wasn't just about how much fun I had in Shinsaibashi. It was what the place had done to me. It made me feel like I belonged there.

I love Sydney because it is my home, but my heart is somewhere else. And yearning for a place is different to missing a person. It's a bigger unsatisfaction, many bigger holes. When we went, I left a large chunk of me in Shinsaibashi.

We boarded late. I hardly slept at all on the plane. But I cried. I

My old boss got in contact with me today, and he's offered me a job at the photography studio I'd been working at earlier this year. It's fate.
You know, I'll be keeping my eye out for cheap flights. As soon as I've got a ticket, I'M OUT OF HERE. lol I don't even care.

---------------

I've got so much to catch up on and my f-list is all over the place right now. If you're all reading this, drop me a comment and tell me what you've been up to? I'll reply. :)

Sultry entry

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 13:22:18 GMT

Me petting ghost cat at Fushimi Inari, where they filmed some parts of Memoirs of a Geisha. :D Luckily Cassi (nee-san's friend) uploaded this to facebook else I wouldn't have any pictures to show you yet because I didn't bring my usb cable for my digi cam.

Posted to you from Nee-san's laptop in a classy hotel in Matsumoto Japan.

P.s. I think my Japanese is a little more improved by now
p.p.s And I am so OCD as to be keeping tabs on bleach_news on my own vacation just because someone else said they couldn't post today's edition.

Sunday, Kyoto Japan, on a laptop at the ryokan shimizu

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 13:02:13 GMT

This is my last night in Kyoto. Tomorrow we'll be making a 4-6 hour train ride to Nagano. And I cant bear to leave this place yet.
We've been temple/shrine jumping for days. The atmosphere and environment is beautiful and I am so inspired and feel so privileged to be here.

Some people cry because they're depressed but I will only cry when I'm overwhelmed by something that is beautiful. Kyoto does this to me. Kyoto makes everything seem like nothing at all.

I'm supposed to be on vacation, but I can't stop thinking about fanfiction. On my 10 hour flight I wrote my first draft for the Shinji/Aizen tbtp fic that everybody voted for. And then coming HERE, and seeing the shogan mansions for the first time and learning about the way the buildings were built and the food is served and the clothes are worn...makes me feel so....enlightened I guess. I finally feel like I'm writing about places and things that I have actual knowledge about. I'm going to come home with so much material :)

Anyway, I should really wait till I get back to fill you in on any details but I just couldn't hold it in. Plus I was like...exploding to read the next chapter of BLEACH.

Till next time guys...

p.s. I miss you all very much.

bye bye scarecrow, sorry you're sad, some things you lost, some things you never had

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 09:36:40 GMT

30 minutes. My dad is driving me to pick up Lyndall, and then to Briony's house in West Ryde. We're leaving for the airport at probably 2am-ish by taxi. But before all that, I just want to say to say happy birthday in advance to these people:

julia_ceres
betnhe
regasssa
rhombusadelleda

I'm sorry I won't be here for it. Especially yours Jak <3

And I'm sorry I've been less responsive than usual online lately. ESPECIALLY to you saiko_yasha -- I did get your email. I got all your messages actually, it's just been hectic. But your shoes have been posted and I'm really excited about seeing you next year too :)

It's less than 6 hours before we depart and I've managed to worry myself into a mini flu. My eyes, head and the back of my neck ache like hell and I keep breaking out into cold sweats. I just need everything to be okay right now. There are too many things happening at once. I can't afford for things not to be okay at this point.
And I recently got a new phone, so I've been getting all these calls at every moment of the day and it's driving me crazy.
My step mother is also due to give birth around the time I get back. I don't even know how I feel about this anymore.
I haven't finished writing my studio theory essay, or my art and poetry essay. And...my tea is too sweet.

Seeya in 3.

a sailor went to sea sea sea

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 11:37:25 GMT

Like I said I would...

It's weird, when my hair was short it was all I could do to get it to grow out again. And as soon as that happened I was demanding it to be cut off. Anyway, Lyndall did a bit of a shave on my neck line as well, so it's pretty damn cropped now except for the front.

I remind myself of Ciel just a little bit. It's the hair I think. Perhaps I finally need to give into cosplay...............maybe.

I don't really even watch the anime. But I should.

----

So I went to Sarah's house last night to install her dreads. And in return, she gave me this AWESOMEFLAILWORTHYROCKMYWORLD badge as a gift:

OMG IT'S WURST! THANK YOU SARAH. *WILL WEAR IT EVERYDAY*
AND just read ch 377 BLEACH please to be expecting a mad post about that too
And just general spam! I need to spam this mofo to the ground before I leave. Sorry! I do it because I lub you!

BLEACH: heads or tails

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 14:08:18 GMT

Author: visualcomplex
Title: Heads or tails
Rating: R-ish
Pairing: hollow!ichigo/ichigo
Warnings: dark. sexual themes. extremely dirty talk? Er I don't even know what to tell you, it's ambiguous
Summary: the reflection longing for the beholder
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to KUBO TITE. This is just another fanwork
Comment: I've been catching up on the anime, and there was a particular episode that made me want to write more of this pairing. If you read my reviews you'd probably know which. To be honest, the anime has made me want to do A LOT of things. Which is why you should do the poll at the end. *shifty eyes*

EDIT: this fic comes with birthday wishes to x_gh0st_x and ciaee.

He gasps. It’s a sound that I’ve never before heard him make, nothing as vulnerable as a gasp. I lay my hand on his chest, the place below the collarbone to feel it rise and fall in breath. Increasingly, his heartbeat throbs beneath my fingers. And I pretend it’s all my doing.

Lying there, he is victim to my attention. Despite all the mortal hurts, which are ever present, indeed the jacket blooms redder with every stroke of my hand. Still he doesn’t struggle against me, not really. Why?

Does he give up the game? So easily? Does he give up the throne?

Quickly, I turn him over. He arches backwards from the ground I dragged him to, shoulder blades moving beneath muscled flesh as if they were wings instead of bones. He looks strong and flexible laying there, a tamed animal beneath me, and I stroke his bent neck. Good boy.

I want to ride him. Oh. The way I imagine he does me in his mind. And I lean close, with the tenderness of a lover, I tell him so. I tell him I want to eat him…I want to eat him all up.

He has no scent, but one. It is mine. And it has kissed every inch of him, so that he has been dressed and enveloped in me. He is possessed by me, as I am obsessed with him.

There are things… there are things I want to do, which are in my nature to do without thought without mercy, and I have longed for it as I walked the vertical walls of his mind, our kingdom, my purgatory.

He lives on the other side of the glass, across an ocean. If it is day on his island, it is night on mine. We are as separate as we are the same, there can't be one without the other. I'm sick of it.

I am the ghost haunting the corridors of his little boy heart. I exist beneath the beat, beneath the throb of it, closest to him of all. I am the mirror, inverted. I am the man, inside out. And sometimes, I’m even a silhouette behind the curtain, pulling all the strings. He might see me in the shadows, with my yellow eyes as I use him like a puppet while he watches. And in turn he uses me.

Every night I dream his dreams for him, because he cannot bear the weight. I bear the King, but I am still the horse without a name. I’m sick of it.

I want to tear it all down. Wait and see. I will take him from the throne, drag drag him home, to pieces.

How would you like me to do it, King? How would you like it best?

I want to sink myself even deeper inside you, somewhere tight and dark and close where you will never be rid of me, and it will be heaven. I want to melt inside you, and mingle with your sweat and tears; spread myself deep like a disease in your bloodstream, tonguing you with my desire from the inside out. This flame will devour you slowly all through the night, and before the light of dawn, perhaps you'll name me.

This horse will buck you. I will corrupt you. I have wanted it so. And only then can you truly be mine.

Only then, I can truly be you.

He is idle, so idle beneath me now, as unresisting as a corpse. But he will not die just yet. We are two sides of the same coin. And tonight it has been tossed, spinning on the breeze.

Tails up.

Tonight it will be my turn. The sky falls into the sea, the moon eclipses the sun. And the horse will ask the King; how would you like to be ridden?

fin

------------

I come up with these ideas for pairings but I'm too shit lazy to actually write them. So it piles up and becomes a "must write" list. I want to get something done!
I know some of them are a bit weird, but believe it or not, I've thought about each and every scenario rather carefully. I guess I just need a second opinion or something, what do you think would work?

View Poll: Pairing poll

little high little low

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 10:42:00 GMT

Every time I feel like writing an entry, I seriously have to go for a walk and remind myself that no body enjoys spam.
However, I recently saw FADE TO BLACK, which prompted me to want to do a poll, and then I got my hair cut and dyed, so I was on the brink of bursting! But I have 2 fics on its way to being finished and I wanted them to go up first. I didn't want to be like bam bam BAM take that and that and THAT, take it all! You dirty bitches. Yeah. You LIKE it. ungff.

Argh but so much is happening. And I'm SO close to going away and there's still so much left to do. I haven't really had a chance to slow down yet. There are all these amazing people around me who're so happy and supportive, to the point that all of the excitement has drained out of me. Most of the time I'm just in a fetal position.

I had a really FAIL day. And I can't get QUEEN out of my head.

Everything is so magnificent and terrible at the same time. Somehow, I always feel most like myself when things are this way. In between. Everywhere, I always get stuck neither here nor there. It's frustrating, but I feel alive.

Tomorrow I'm helping sexy Sarah pants with her dreads.

I'm now drinking milo. I like it 20percent milk, 80percent chunky bits. And I bought a new phone. SHIT that's right. Everything is fixed. New phone. 300GB of extra disk space on my hard drive (this means I can download more lol) and received my jacket in the mail.

Also...I really want cowboy boots? And a bottle of shambord with lemonade.

p.s. apparently, they recently discovered that a skull fragment believed to have belonged to Hitler has been identified as somebody a woman's. So now the record of his death is "unknown." Just something I read. Check it out

bleach ep 239

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 16:57:47 GMT

I know it's been out for a few days but Christ, I need to add my 2 cents!
Last half of the episode = epic *flouncing* I know there was a first half too, but my fangirl brain has completely bypassed it for the obvious hitsuHyourin romance. And I don't care. I don't!
I don't know how I still manage to feel amazed by this. I have watched and read SO much slash...SO many boys staring meaningfully at each other across crowded rooms, in between sentences. They don't even need to know each other, shit they don't even need to be human or have eyes, I can slash anything. Two bananas - let's go!

And yet, no matter how many times I've seen it done, I still get so stupid ~~and slobbery~~ when ever it happens.

Please to be having 13 screen caps:

-----> I've always liked Hitsugaya as a character. Then again, I'd be hard put finding a bleach male character that I don't like for some small reason. Watching this made me feel a bit guilty to be honest, because I've only ever written one measly Hitsugaya drabble. And it was a HitsuKira fic request last year.
It makes me want to do more. Actually, this whole arc up until this point has made me want to do a LOT of things.

BTW. Because we're all thinking it...

just saying!

How can no one have noticed this before? Maybe I was just in the other room when it was being discussed. I'm not even a Kingdom Hearts fan, and I still thought WHAT THE H- SAIX?! when I saw him. Okay fine...minor differences but still pretty close. Hyourinmaru wins on so many more levels though.

That last half I was talking about via youtube:

kthnx for listening.

bleach: untitled

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 08:44:52 GMT

Author: visualcomplex
Title: Untitled
Rating: R
Pairing: Szayel Apollo/clone!Ishida
Warnings: some disturbing/morbid themes (lol the usual)
Summary: -
Comments: I wrote this on a train ride, be gentle with me! I've been so crappy at titles lately. Why don't you tell me what you think it should be called?

“Szayel Apollo.”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing?”

“An experiment.”

“I see. What’s that you have there in that test tube? More DNA?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you making more fraccion so soon?”

“Oh, no, this is much better.”

“…”

“I’m making a Quincy.”

The limbs are too long at first, and they hang boneless, like frail flesh colored noodles at the sides, unable to extend or do very much but imitate what limbs should look like.

Szayel Apollo examines a far too limp wrist in his gloved hand; here the skin is blooming in the black and purple shades of abuse.

Pouting and sulking like a disappointed child, he lifts the pseudo body with the absurdly long limbs, and flings it across the room where it crashes against an empty wall with the wet crunch of cracking bones.

Once unlucky before Szayel arrives at success, before he at last has a complete physical reflection of the Quincy boy from earth. When you are someone like Szayel Apollo Grantz, once is the only time you’re allowed to make a mistake.

It sits alone in a chair in the main lab. Like a pretty new toy, unwrapped and unspoiled.

Humming softly to himself, Szayel circles his creation. So still and yet so life-like, indeed its appeal lies within the reality that it cannot fight back. Szayel has always had a weakness for those who could not resist him physically.

It smiles the secret invisible smile of all blow-up dolls, silently promising to be exclusive and more. It is his gift to himself. It is a masterpiece.

He trails his fingers through the hair, along the neck and down the immaculate folds of the white cape. Then bending to shove a long pink tongue between its immobile lips, he groans for the warmth he finds inside.

Except…there was something awkward in the way their lips met but couldn’t lock. Something strange, something unnerving about the way its eyes stared forward at him, the color of the deep blue sea. They never blinked.
Its gaze is empty, like the preserved expressions of carefully sculpted wax statues, the same final unchanging smile of a skull.

It was…familiar.

Upsetting a chair in his haste, Szayel Apollo flees the room. He doesn’t dare look back.

----

“You look upset.”

“I…”

“Did something happen?”

“I don’t know what I did wrong. I just don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?”

“He isn’t-he’s just -”

“Empty.”

“…it makes no sense.”

“Humans make no sense.”

“Shut up. Just…leave me alone.”

-----

Someone comes to take the thing away. Someone cleans up the smashed test tubes and the broken chair, whose many splintered parts scatter the lab floor like bones.

Szayel Appollo doesn’t come out of his room to see it happen. He is too afraid to.

He is alone.

something for the road

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 05:18:59 GMT

I got my tax back. And I thought I deserved to let loose a bit, since I've been ever so good lately.

I have too many gladiators and too many boots. So I wanted something without straps or zips. What I hadn't been anticipating was this awesome flick back platform that had me in mind of Nicholas Kirkwood.
The heel is about 10cm. Am I insane for wishing it was even higher than that?

tra la la la

Fri, 02 Oct 2009 05:17:34 GMT

I'm leaving the country in less than two weeks. Oh my God. I feel like I've been planning this trip all my life...and I almost have been. It's all I ever talked about in high school and soon it will happen.
There's still quite a bit to be said and done before I'm gone though. My school holidays have started, but unfortunately, I still plan to go in to do extra work because of all the classes I'll be missing out on before exams. I'll probably be updating on livejournal now more than I've ever done before in this last week and a half leading up to my departure. So I apologize in advance if some spam happens. x___x

Guys. I owe so much fic. I owe them all over town. Let's just say this was the mafia, I'd have had all my fingers and toes chopped off and would now be graduating to limbs. I've been reviewing all the fic requests I've ever gotten, and want to get some of it done before then.

OHHHH and I got my book in the mail the other day. 99cents and $12 shipping from the UK.

Oh the old smell of second hand books. I've been reading it profusely, especially on the train! I'll write something more about the wonderful and genius prose of Tanith Lee later.

I bought myself that highly ached after power shoulder jacket I've been dreaming about:

And also fionally sold my red and white shoes to my dear saiko_yashaand will be posting it to her next week. Hope it fits <3
On the same note ---> I have all these unworn clothes and probably a few other pairs of shoes that need to be rid of. Tomorrow will be a busy and productive day off for me. Getting all these sales up.

Plus, I'm sick of being blond...again. It's summer and I miss having really short hair. Dying it out and chopping it all off next Tuesday. That is all for now.

fanart: ponyo on a cliff

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 17:12:41 GMT

argh guys! Seen PONYO ON A CLIFF yet? If not, please do. Very cute. Actually, almost fainted due to the overwhelming cuteness. And then I was suddenly in the mood to draw. I think it was all the delicious colours that made me do it - I felt like I was being beaten over the brain by a baseball bat of inspiration.

CLICK:

& HD AS HELL TRAILER JUST FOR YOOOOOU:

LONG TRAILER, EVEN MORE HD AND CAPS WORTHY: LINK

*coughwatcheditsubbedcough*

Wow Lynn! What else do you do with your life except watch movies and drool on things all day? (and yet my mood says I feel accomplished...>.>)

3:21am

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 17:22:23 GMT

ARGH

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 03:00:00 GMT

Excuse my spam! lol excuse it!
But I can't get KOOP ISLAND BLUES out of my head! XD

I feel like fanservice tonight, fanservice tonight

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 15:52:05 GMT

Three posts in one day. Yeh I'm bored right?
There is absolutely no point to this entry, just mindless fangirling if that's alright with you? I am totally clueless about Korean music, BUT totally in the know about Korean FANSERVICE. And there's basically no other place in the world that does it quite like they do in Koreeeaaaaa.

*NOSEBLEED SPAM AHEAD* (directed mainly at darktower6 who hasn't checked it out yet and kisahga who's probably already seen all of it :P)

This is exactly how I feel at the moment:

SUPER JUNIOR:

2AM:

So who do you think this show/game was aimed at really? Lol I don't understand how they can air this on television and not get slandered to hell ~~Unless Korea is like 99percent girls?~~

------------------------------------

Are you totally unsurprised that these are on my computer? *shifty eyes*

featured: dbsk, super junior, big bang, 2AM and er...probably others I forgot

Can contribute to the fanservice? Link in this entry like naaooowz!

the boy in striped pajamas

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 07:11:04 GMT

I stumbled across the original book by John Boyne on my daily browse of Amazon. Then I found the trailer for the movie. I didn't have anything else to do this afternoon so I thought I'd give the movie a go since I like WW2 history so bad.
It was so sensitively directed. I don't know any other word for it. The story is seen through the eyes of an innocent 8 year old boy named Bruno, who is very er very hidden from the situation that the country is in. It made a lot of sense to me -- in the way that children think and see things much differently to adults. And the games that adults play with children, in it they're both telling lies not knowing that the other is doing it too.

The ending killed me.

fire shall rain down from the heavens and the skies are blood coloured veils

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 01:15:11 GMT

READ THIS ARTICLE

am I the only one who woke up to neon red apocalyptic skies on Wednesday and thought: oh my god. I wish I wrote science fiction.
I got a phone call from several people at 6:30am in the fucking morning screaming down the line at me to "get the hell out of bed and point your camera at the street! NOW!" One friend couldn't reach me on my mobile so he went so far as to call my house phone and woke my parents up.
I hardly had any film left. So I am SO JEALOUS of all the people who got good shots of the dust storm that morning. I have never seen anything quite like it before. I have never seen anything so surreal - it was like straight out of a painting.

(photos by: Chris Button)

They say that there hasn't been a dust storm here in over 42 years. And it's happened twice in 2009. I wanted so much to post this earlier, but I didn't get a chance, it was on my mind almost constantly though. My priorities are so out of whack. haha

P.S. If anybody happened to get decent shots on Wednesday, be sure to link me to them!
P.S x 2 My passport has been completed ;)

the holy grail eh? Did you look behind the couch?

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 10:21:44 GMT

OHGOD.OH.MY.GOD.UH.MMMNGHH!!!

MONO - 'Hymn to the Immortal Wind' 2009 Australian Tour - Sat, 5 Dec 2009 at Manning Bar
DETAILS

Lyndall found it in drum media and called me up to tell me, I couldn't do anything but GUSH at her on the other end of the line. Seriously? This is like discovering GOD and then finding out he's coming to visit you. Oh fuck. My spleen is going to bleed from the sheer excitement that courses through me right now.

Oh and guess who's got 2-day tickets to V-ROCK FESTIVAL 2009, JAPAN
The line up is ridiculous! CHECK IT - over 50 artists including: the Gazette, D'ESPAIRSRAY, abingdon boys highschool, LM.C, alice nine, kaggra, plastic tree etc

But to tell you the truth, I'm not all that excited about V-ROCK, at least not as excited as I am about seeing MONO. I would give the whole 2 day experience up just to see MONO perform once. Even if it was held in a dumspter, in the rain, and nobody but me showed up. My V-K days were so short lived, I got over it pretty quickly, I only ever wanted to see Dir en Grey live, and they're not in this line up. In fact, they grew out of it too. lol

Something about life here soon, TBC...

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 01:39:24 GMT

I've built myself a rather big character list, in a rather small world where everybody knows, has probably slept with, or otherwise currently hates each other. Wow. It's like soap opera but with more Slash.

FAMILY TREES SO FAR:

YELLOW: married couples with child(ren)
("brackets with quotations"): nick names
(brackets): maiden name
(divorced): divorced couples

Names unmentioned in above list: Richard ("Richie rich") Taylor

------------------------------------------

Some peripheral thoughts on introductions and relationships etc:

Jesse DeRoy:

Older twin brother to James DeRoy. None of his nick names ever stuck (unlike James), so I never decided to use them, it didn't seem right. They used to call him "uptight-jess" (a joke about his orderliness and femininity) in highschool but that was pretty much it.
Richard and Angela were divorced when the boys were just toddlers. They never really got to grow up together, or "be" brothers really. James remained with Angela, while Jesse moved in with his father. Near his eleventh year Richard received a work promotion and was transferred to Los Angeles where he then relented guardianship over Jesse. Jesse moved back in with Angela and adopted her new surname (see "Angela DeRoy).
The twins were re-united just before the beginning of high school, but they had grown up apart from each other for most of their childhood years, so they met again as two very different people. Being with James again was possibly the best thing that ever happened to him - though he never said so.
Jesse started smoking early on in junior high, a habit he unwittingly picked up from his father. But it wouldn't be the first thing.
His first real lover (at least the only one he ever bothered to recall since) was named Richard, nick named "Richie Rich." Whom he and James moved in with for several happy months. Unfortunately Richie disappears at the end of Summer, and they fall into a kind of autumn-y despair.
He then becomes terribly fixated by the mail man, not the MAN himself, but the idea of mail. The clockwork delivery. This obsession is mentioned a number of times through out the plot - I don't think he ever really recovered after that.

Likes include: getting the advantage, being right, green tea, cigarettes, green jelly, vintage, ebay
Dislikes include: no cigarettes, disappointing somebody, getting lost, being alone

James "Tricky" DeRoy:

Younger twin to Jesse. "Tricky" was an affectionate nick name given to him by Angela, it describes his incredibly unpredictable and often naughty behavior as a child. He is TRICKY even to me, to describe, to draw.
Being raised by Angela made him more like her, thus he grew up more adventurous and slightly loopier than Jesse. He believes there is always a third fourth and fifth side to every story, he believes in freedom, including the freedom to dance in boots scuffed to hell, and wear no underwear on Fridays, and that if you can make somebody laugh you can probably make them do anything.
James is often hard to understand, mainly because he does not believe he needs to be explained. He has Jesse for that.

Also, untamed bed hair is the DeRoy legacy, but James will always take the trophy home.

Likes include: road trips,family, waffles, gigs, summer nights, sunsets, finding spare change, being given spare change, life, street bands, pubs, Jesse
Dislikes include: negativity, incorrectly drawn maps, unnecessary violence, running out of gas, getting lost, being alone

Jayd "Jay" DeRoy:

Named Jayd for his very Jade green eyes at birth. Later nick named "Jay." The femininity of his full first name has never ceased to cause public jest among his friends and high school peers.
Jay was born just before Richard and Angela's separation, and fortunately got to skip their messy divorce. He is much closer to James because of this.
His closest and best friend is Xiang Yu Lee ("Zee"), the boy next door. His mother (Ann) and Angela were best friends in highschool and had kept close ever since. Jay and Zee were born one day apart, and the DeRoy's and Lee's often meet at midnight to celebrate both birthdays. Such is the friendship between these two families.
Once punched a guy in a panda outfit at the local fare and still laughs about it.

Likes include: art, flirting, chinese food, in jokes, teasing Xiang, Xiang in general, bars, urban landscapes, analogue cameras, abandoned houses, life, summer nights, gigs, soccer, smartarses.

Dislikes include: Andy Warhol, kill joys, being interrupted, surprises, sad faces, secrets, boredom, traffic jams.

---------------

TAGS!PEOPLE:

Angela DeRoy
Ann Lee
Benjamin Touchet
DeRoy twins
James DeRoy
Jayd DeRoy
Jesse DeRoy
Richard Manning
Richie Taylor
Nicholas Touchet
Xiang Lee

TAGS!PAIRINGS:

Jay/Nicki
Jay/Zee
Nicki/Benjy

last updated: 22 September 2009 to be continued...

originalfic: end

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 15:45:24 GMT

Title: End
Pairing(s)/character(s): Jesse/Richard/James (aka Jesse DeRoy, Richard "Richie Rich" Taylor & James "Tricky" DeRoy)
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: mentions alcohol abuse, m/m, implied m/m threesome
summary: no summaries just ends.
Notes: notes at the close.
Dedicated to: darktower6 because she is so bloody awesome in so many bloody ways

It all began, and ended with Richard.
"Richie Rich" Taylor. Clean, razor sharp, clever thing he was, a swiss army knife personified.

Perhaps it was just the weather that did it in the end. The weather can ruin it for a lot of self sufficient organisms, all it took was a bit of rain. Who knows? Thing was, summer had to end some time. It got colder and colder as the weeks crept on, slowly at first, in long lazy trails of sex and gin foggy nights, not a care to be wary of but the heat drumming their eyelids every following morning. Gradually the leaves turned brown and gold and dead around them. And soon they began to fall. And there was hardly any of yesterday left to grope at, hardly an ember glowing hot enough to re-ignite the fire.

They slept huddled together on the King size mattress, beneath the many layers of quilts and threadbare Indian throws, Richie in the middle between Jesse and James. These grown up boys in their shared loneliness searched between the sheets for laughter as the dust and the rats and the rain settled in.

But try as he might to fit in, Richie never really truly belonged there. How awkward and out of place he seemed between them. This faux smile, clean haircut boy, this ambitious, grey suit and end of the road man. He walked through lives like knives through dinner meat. His smile was a humorless sickle shaped mouth full of perfect teeth.

As it got colder and colder, he got more and more distant.

One day, under some post-alcohol induced spell of forgetfulness, someone had accidentally left the milk out. For days it sat to curdle in the open air. Richie came into the kitchen to wash his hands in the morning, and was greeted by the pungent smell of sour milk.

He left after that, and no body knew why...
In the early hours of dawn, while the twins dreamed away the aches of their last drink, Richie Rich scooped up his dusty coat and was gone. Without a word. He left them there.

How sudden it was, like a car crash. How ill-prepared they were for the collision.

....Some days after that, Jesse got out of bed and began to read the paper.

-----

facts: "Richard" is also the first name of the twins' biological father (Richard Manning). Something profound came over me when I decided to edit Richie into the story. He seemed appropriate to the plot, like he was the missing link between A and B. I didn't even stop to think up his name and nick name, it came to me as suddenly and naturally as the initial urge to write and I never questioned it. I figure, there are things that need discussing...and so I decided to post up more backgroubd history in case anybody was interested

what stark said

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 06:36:48 GMT

I had tea with the awesome and intelligent kiyala on friday morning. A few pots of jasmine tea actually, and some toasted sandwiches.
We talked about uni, books, her muses, my distaste for tomatoes, and then I let her experiment on me. lol well sort of. I volunteered to help with her current study on Models of Motiviation Behind Prosocial Behavior which involved filling out a questionanaire and responding to different scenarios. She kept apologizing which was so cute, lol but I was really intrigued by the experiment.
Anyway I had a good morning followed by a shitty afternoon.

I was supposed to FINALLY get my passport sorted out. But when I got there I was told that I needed another proof of citizenship. Now, this has been the THIRD time in the last 3 weeks that I've come to get it done and they've told me what I have for proof of citizenship won't be acceptable.
I should have done this ages ago, but I didn't realize there'd be an issue. They changed the law sometime between the last time I had an active passport and now. It's no longer good enough to have been born here, with both parents as permanent residents. At least one of them has to have been a "permanent resident" in the country before or at the time of my birth.
I'm really annoyed and really scared. I've got a matter of 3 weeks before I leave for Japan. I have class everyday, so I can only come up once every week to get this done, because they're only open on weekdays. But every week, it's just one problem after another. I've got no idea what's going to happen now. I'm freaking out. As if I wasn't already having enough issues as it was.

We're trying to make an appointment with the department of fucking immigration on Tuesday. I'm going up with my step-dad.

I know I have to do this, as silly as it is, it's the law. But I'm no less insulted. I've lived here for 20 years for christssake, I was born Austrlian, gunna die Australian. Somehow, stupidly enough, none of that matters.

For fangirls:

~~lol I wish real life would play out like this. This is exactly what my brain does whenever my male friends tell me they're going to see the game.~~

my kingdom for a...

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 06:43:38 GMT

Long day was long. Followed by extra shitastic morning that resulted in me skipping all of today's classes. In times like these I thank god that I have friends at Uni and teachers who accept essays by email. I think I'm too exhausted to rant or cry about it now. Or maybe I just feel a little better.
I do apologize though about all of my smoke and mirrors cryptic posts lately. Honestly, thank you or generally giving a shit. And because I'm oh so spectacularly avoidant about these matters myself, you can poke me on messenger or something later and we'll have a nice big laugh about it.

//end

-----

Books. Books. Books!

I've been stalking shelfari and amazon for weeks but can't afford to order anything yet. And no, no I still haven't gotten my Hemingway because I still think that 20bucks for an anorexic story is robbery. I have a plan though, at the end of term if I can spare it, I'll make one big fat bulk buy online and get it slightly cheaper
I just can't stand the idea of borrowing anything, it has to be mine I want to keep it forever. That doesn't mean that I haven't been looking though. Oh I've been yearning all right. "Browsing" has been slow exquisite torture to me, and doing it for a period of weeks has doubled, tripled my reading wish list.

God: the ultimate autobiography & Satan: the hiss and tell memoirs

Jeremy Pascall (out of print)

I'm not very religious, at least, not in the way that church and prayer beads and fasting seems religious - not elaborating because if I go there, it will be a LONG one - I attended catholic high school for 4 years (before moving), and though I could never embrace it, religion was one of my best subjects in school. And today I still enjoy the odd religious film, text and art work.
So, what got me to this book was a show-and-tell with Lyndall at her house one night. Her grand-parents are horders apparently, and she picked up this way aged novel at their house. I only had to read the first paragraph to be convinced.
The satire has me in mind of the likes of Neil Gaiman (recent) except...this is WAY before his time. And sadly now out of print, and ridiculously overpriced every where else. It was no surprise to me that I couldn't find a single good review.

SUMMARY: "A hilariously funny parody-rendered bible stories, in it are perhaps hundreds of christian jokes that are very funny. Surely only those who have some knowledge with the biblical stories will appreciate the humor contained therein, especially in relation with the book of Genesis and Exodus. How the author (I mean the real author) of this book manage to turn every stories and situations into parodies, and achieve a high level of consistency within each pages of the book is what makes the book worthy of two thumbs up." - bookomoo.com

"The "author" of this irreverent, good-natured romp is identified as "God, The Author of All Creation, with Jeremy Pascall, holy ghost." Covering mainly the high points of the Old Testament, the Author tells us that Adam and Eve were created primarily to take care of Eden, "a little piece of Heaven on Earth" and "the first ever Garden Center." The begetting part got a bit out of hand occasionally, He admits, larking His way through chapters on Noah and Sodom and Gomorrah. In fact, He thinks the procreative act "too complicated . . . uncomfortable . . . and extremely undignified. . . . Personally, I prefer a nice cup of tea." And He confesses that He turns malcontents into cacti, which is how He transformed his holy ghost writer (see Footnote 61). British novelist Pascall obviously did not intend this sunny little book for fundamentalists or those of any faith who take their religion seriously. Illustrated with 40 rather uninspiring cartoons, the book also contains a Bibleography (sic) that lists the soon-to-be-discovered Red Sea Scrolls and The Noah Letters, "written by Noah and his wife Norah to The Author"; an Addenda (sic): Anchovy, the use of as a cure for bunions. . . . ; an Eratta (sic): "There are no eratta as The Author does not make mistakes"; and an Erratum: "Eratta should be spelt errata. The Publisher apologizes for this error." - AMAZON.COM

Red as blood

Tanith Lee

I stumbled on the author through Angela Carter "related links", God love you AMAZON. It's like you know me better than I do. And with the proper research, including an excerpt or two I've decided I will probably LOVE this author

SUMMARY: "One of the most original collections of fairytales that I have read. It begins with the tale of the Pied Piper. What happens when a god descends to the flaws of mortals? Snow White is a less than generic vampire tale, with a strong mideval christian cast to it. The prose is crisp and stark and strangely beautiful like the rest of tanith lee's work, underlying meanings throb in the thicket of words like white flowers." - a customer, AMAZON.COM

The book thief

Markus Zusak

I watched an interview where Markus talks about "book thief" on amazon. The guy is so articulate and insightful. Some of his ideas are really cool too. But I think it was the video that convinced me more than anything.

SUMMARY: "Death, it turns out, is not proud.

The narrator of The Book Thief is many things -- sardonic, wry, darkly humorous, compassionate -- but not especially proud. As author Marcus Zusak channels him, Death -- who doesn't carry a scythe but gets a kick out of the idea -- is as afraid of humans as humans are of him.

Knopf is blitz-marketing this 550-page book set in Nazi Germany as a young-adult novel, though it was published in the author's native Australia for grown-ups. (Zusak, 30, has written several books for kids, including the award-winning I Am the Messenger.) The book's length, subject matter and approach might give early teen readers pause, but those who can get beyond the rather confusing first pages will find an absorbing and searing narrative..." READ THE REST HERE - Elizabeth Chang, The washington post, 2006

The infernal desire machines of doctor Hoffman

Angela Carter ♥♥

It cuts me and excites me at the same time that I haven't yet read all works by Angela Carter (my favorite and most obsessed about author), though I think I've attacked a major chunk of her literature and short stories. Her glorious drunken prose has me eating words, every tale is lain out like a luxurious feast for the heart and mind.

SUMMARY: "Angela Carter's neo-Swiftian tale of Desiderio and his search for Doctor Hoffman is oftentimes so brilliant that it is mind numbing.

Through a surrealistic swirling pattern of images, illusions, allusions and memories, Desiderio, the narrator of the journey, travels through a wild range of cultures and attitudes on his philsophical journey to find Dr. Hoffman, the brilliant scientist whose mental images are slowly destroying any reality of the world. On his journey. Desiderio meets carnival folks, gentle river-dwelling natives, an animalistic whorehouse, a tribe of cannibals (or two), and in the best Swiftian fashion, a tribe of religious centaurs before finally reaching the Doctor's compound.

Through a skillful use of the erotic as philosophy, Carter takes us on a journey that makes us reconsider what our own views of the erotic, the realistic, the profane and the profound are, and how we justify them with every day life." - a customer, AMAZON.COM

The Sadeian Woman: And the Ideology of Pornography

Angela Carter ♥♥

I did a double take, first because of de Sade, then because Angela Carter would be doing the retelling. *fans self* SOLD!

SUMMARY: "The Sadeian Woman is a feminist reading of the Marquis de Sade, who is seen as a "moral pornographer" putting pornography into the service of women, or at least creating room within it for "an ideology not inimical to women". Though Carter provides some biographical background, her focus is on three of Sade's novels. In Justine the eponymous heroine suffers repeated rape, torture, humiliation, and degradation, forever escaping from one abuser only to fall into the hands of another. She is acted on rather than acts, feels rather than reasons, and is the perfect victim. Carter sees her as a spiritual ancestor of film stars such as Marilyn Monroe. Her career is a "desecration of the Temple", an inversion of the unnatural reverence accorded to women as Mothers and Wives.

While The Sadeian Woman offers a one-sided view of Sade — his political ideas are only touched upon — it has the advantage of brevity over most books on him. It will be an accessible introduction to Sade for many who would otherwise know him only as a popular bogeyman; it certainly inspired me more than the rather staid biography I read a decade ago." - Danny Yee, DANNYREVIEWS.COM

The old man and the sea

Ernest Hemingway

Lol well let's see. I have a longing for sea tales lately. With a majority of my recent fanfics describing the ocean in one vague way or another.

SUMMARY: "When Santiago, the old fisherman, finally decides to try his luck far away from the shore, he probably did'nt realise he would meet his destiny both as a fisherman and a human being. As a human being because after all his troubles he comes home empty handed, a fate most of us humans will find at the end of our life, we will ask if this is all we have done.

But it seems to me that the story has a second meaning. When a huge sword-fish takes the bait an epic battle starts between the two. The fish swims away, forcing the old man to taut the cord for almost two days. During this moments one could ask who's the hunter and who's the hunted.

In my point of view it's this duality that makes the story a masterpiece." - a customer, AMAZON.COM

"No good book has ever been written that has in it symbols arrived at beforehand and stuck in. ... I tried to make a real old man, a real boy, a real sea and a real fish and real sharks. But if I made them good and true enough they would mean many things." - Hemingway, the American Storyteller, Time, 1999

The old man and the sea at WIKIPEDIA.COM

Briar Rose

Robert Coover

Another related links find. Please don't disappoint me.

SUMMARY: "Long a favorite of modern poets from Paul Valery to Randall Jarrell, the tale of Sleeping Beauty has given rise to some of the century's deepest meditations on the act of writing and the workings of inspiration and desire. Coover (John's Wife, etc.) has always drawn inspiration from classical narratives (he brilliantly reworked Hansel and Gretel in his short-story collection Pricksongs and Descants), so it will hardly surprise his readers that he has devoted an entire, albeit slim, novel to the princess. Briar Rose returns him to what may be his most fruitful obsession, the absurd and inescapable demands that Romance makes on our lives. "Desire," the fairy godmother asks herself, "what is that?" That's the question at the heart of this remarkable thicket of a novel, where plot and point of view intertwine according to the logic of fable, dream and parody. Coover's allegorical retelling of Sleeping Beauty-hard to put down and impossible to paraphrase-is one of his best, bitterest jokes to date. It is also one of his most accessible works, confirming him as simply wittier, sadder, more precise and more inventive than most novelists writing today." - AMAZON.COM (really tasty fucking review, delicious)

The ghost wore yellow socks

Josh Lanyon

At first I thought that wanting to read this, was a bit out of character for me, just judging by my reading history. But then again, I've read and liked a lot of much stranger and sillier texts than this promised gay, romantic, murder mystery. So why not? Why the heck not?

SUMMARY: "A wonderful "Haunted House" mystery from Josh Lanyon. It has all the best ingredients: a reputedly haunted old mansion turned into apartments and populated by as colorful an assortment of weird and suspicious characters as you could wish for (except for the two leads, of course: one is a cute artist, the other is a studly ex-Navy SEAL).

The opening is classic: the hero finds a dead body in his bathtub, runs to raise the alarm and when the cluless cops and everyone go to look, it's gone. No one believes him, naturally.There are creaking, dragging noises in the walls at night; a crazy old lady wandering through the house at all hours; a missing stash of stolen jewels; a climactic gun battle, you name it.

The book is also a M/M romance, for those who need to know, one way or the other. Ringing yet another change on the ancient erastes/eromenos theme (both parties are adults, btw), Mr. Lanyon generates as much, if not more, suspense here as he does with the murder mystery. There's also a relevant, cautionary plot element about the risks of pursuing that modern chimera, the internet `"relationship."

Written in Mr. Lanyon's usual master craftsman style, with razor sharp dialog and fun cultural references, the book is a delight to read - and you won't want to put it down until the last body has tumbled out of the closet." - a customer, AMAZON.COM

Standish

Erastes

Okay. I'm in no dire rush to read this, though it's been on my mind. I want to read it for the sake of having read it, as it's been rated one of the most searched Gay historical novels on amazon. I doubt it, but still, want to be proven wrong.
I've read hundreds of different reviews. All of which lead me to believe that it may be either:

A) epically saccharine, cliche, predictable
B) exactly what I'm looking for

SUMMARY: "A great house. A family dispossessed. A sensitive young man. A powerful landowner. An epic love that springs up between two men. Set in the post-Napoleonic years of the 1820's, Standish is a tale of two men - one man discovering his sexuality and the other struggling to overcome his traumatic past. Ambrose Standish, a studious and fragile young man, has dreams of regaining the great house his grandfather lost in a card game. When Rafe Goshawk returns from the continent to claim the estate, their meeting sets them on a path of desire and betrayal which threatens to tear both of their worlds apart. Painting a picture of homosexuality in Georgian England, Standish is a love story of how the decisions of two men affect their journey through Europe and through life." - AMAZON.COM

The book of salt

Monique Truong

I know by her last name, that the author is Vietnamese. Unsurprisingly and ashamedly, I've read next to nothing about Vietnamese culture in books - except maybe like a few paragraphs in lieu of a side character somewhere - so yes, I would like to read this. Most of all, I'd like to like this. As the many rich reviews surrounding it have given me reason to expect much.

SUMMARY: "A mesmerizing narrative voice, an insider's view of a fabled literary household and the slow revelation of heartbreaking secrets contribute to the visceral impact of this first novel. From a few lines in The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book, Truong reimagines the Vietnamese cook who was hired by the famous residents at 27 rue de Fleurus. Bonh, as he calls himself, is an exile from his homeland, where he was denounced because of a homosexual relationship and banished by his brutal father. After three years at sea, Bonh ends up in Paris, where he answers Toklas's ad ("Two American ladies wish...") and enters the household of Gertrude Stein. The story begins in 1934 when the women he calls "my Mesdames" are about to tour America, and B�nh fears he'll be cast adrift once again. Flashbacks reveal his loneliness and guilt, his doomed love affairs (he enjoys a brief tryst with Ho Chi Minh, whom he knows only as "the man on the bridge") and his sadness at having abandoned his mother and his native land. The tone throughout is poignant, lightened by B�nh's subversive wit; for all his bitterness and resentment, he is a captivating narrator, as adept at describing Stein's literary salon as the contents of Toklas's kitchen. If Truong sometimes stretches the range of Bonh's understanding and powers of observation, interpreting even the thoughts of Stein herself, the narrative rings with emotional authenticity. Truong's supple prose is permeated with sensual detail, reminiscent of A Debt to Pleasure in its evocation of the erotic possibilities of food. But it is her intuitive understanding of the condition of exile-"the pure, sea salt sadness of the outcast"-that infuses her novel with richness and beauty." - AMAZON.COM

"Drawing inspiration from a fleeting reference in the Alice B. Toklas Cook Book (1954) to two "Indochinese" men who at one point cooked for Toklas and Gertrude Stein, Truong has concocted a delectable fictional memoir. Faced with the decision about whether to accompany Stein and Toklas to America, return to Vietnam, or remain in France, Binh, the Vietnamese cook who has labored for the unconventional ladies he has dubbed "The Steins," for about five years, reflects back on his troubled life and times. Interspersing his own story with that of his illustrious employers, Binh meanders back and forth through time, recounting his youthful misadventures in Vietnam, his time toiling as a galley hand aboard a sailing vessel, and his years spent cooking for the Steins and indulging in the joys and perils of the seamier side of Parisian nightlife. Using salt as a metaphor for "food, sweat, tears and the sea," and interweaving the narrative with suggestions of ingredients, recipes, and exotic dishes, Truong provides a savory debut novel of unexpected depth and emotion." - Margaret Flanagan, "The booklist", AMAZON.COM

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In other news. I have so ambitiously and stupidly signed myself up as back up editor to bleach_news. lol because BB and 1SP just wasn't enough.