Let There be Light

Yeah, but it ain't exactly Monty Python and the Meaning of Life, you know?

And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? - Milan Kundera, the Unbearable Lightness of Being

The true 21st century vagabond is feeling scared for the first time in his life. Scared, not because of the ridiculous lack of evidence in ITs wisdom, but of expectations.

IT, is Marriage.

Yep, yours truly is getting married, and there isn't a book called The Oxford's Guide to Husband's Dos and Don'ts out there for one who subscribes to the hybrid of cheaply understood Old Testament and a prejudically scanned Koran(just in case there really is an entrance exam at heaven's gate).

No amount of Khalil Gibran will prepare you for this kind of things, really. And certainly not that whining bitch called Paolo Coelho either.

So what's one to do in this state of mind?

One prepares for the parties.

You heard me right: parties.

So I guess it's about time I dust off this great book about throwing great parties, a book I love oh-so-dearly:

The Great Gatsby.

And we'll need wine. Plenty of.

Back

I'm moving back here for general bitching. Steviewonders would be for my traveling :)

i have moved

steviewonders.wordpress.com

Light My Fire

Dear friends, foes, and a certain secret lover,

I want to apologize for the long absence. I can’t log on to blogger dot com from here, that’s why. I mean I can’t log on from the same location more than a handful of times before the Great Firewall of China blocks it.

Another joint will be set up, timed for December 13th, Margaux’s birthday. I’ll inform you of the URL on this page, yeah?

By the way, Shanghai has done some strange things to the Master of the Universe.

He is missing his family.

He is missing his loved ones.

He is missing home.

He is longing for a home.

He is longing to belong.

The Master of the Universe is getting soft.

He saw the darkness at the end of the tunnel.

He needs some light.

He is looking for someone to live the rest of his life with. So if you are interested in wasting the rest of your life with the Master of the Universe V2.0 please kindly write-in with your resume, and a photograph of your breasts.

Dicks need not apply.

Thank you.


Yours truly,


Stevie

The Master of the Universe,

Shanghai.

Sokay, Baby.

Just had steamboat.

There was a whole chicken in the large steamboat, like a French pot-au-feu.

Earlier this month when Margaux, her mom, and I were vacationing at Moganshan we ate at this farmhouse-style restaurant where live chicken, wild chicken, snakes and whatnot were there for you to pick, then they'll be slaughtered right there and then for your meal. Real a la minute, that was.

Margaux loves those fowls and one morning she kept visiting them, and fed them I dunno what, I guess soy beans, but it could very well be Jelly Beans for all I know.

When we returned to the restaurant in the evening the chicken were gone.

Tonton, where are the chicken?

I dare not tell her, but one of them was on our table.

Dead.

Ups & Downs

I'm in a resort town in Zhejiang province doing a promotion at a polo tournament. Got our tent sandwiched between Zegna and Maserati, and opposite Cartier. Speaking of brand positioning.

This morning I cycled from the hotel to the site, about 10km away on the other side of the mountain.

The 10km took 2 lung-busting hours.

You struggled up the hill, trying not to see too far ahead, motivating yourself all the way, telling yourself the peak is near... but your legs were going rubbery, and your mouth was dry, and your lungs hurting.........

And then you reached the peak.

So you reached the peak, now what?

You go down.

97km/h and you can't really brake constantly coz the brake pads will lose its effectiveness and if that happened you'll see your creator before you can see the ponies.

So what do you do when going downhill like that?

You pray for the next climb.

Such is life.

Go up, you complain; go down, you complain.

dear anon

Hello people,

I have decided to moderate comments on my blog.

Some people has gotten a bit nasty, ugly, and personal.

I don't remember deleting anything others have written, but today I blip one.

That person insulted my family and friends, and has thus crossed the line.

So, dear anon,

bye bye anon.

Go fuck yourself silly.

Southern Discomfort

They have roti canai in Hainan, the southernmost province in China.

12 varieties on the menu: plain canai, banana canai, pineapple canai, coconut canai, cheese canai, ham canai, mushroom & minced pork canai..... RMB18 a pop.

New York has the best roti canai, hands down; Hainan is right up there with NY.

Ali Maju's?

No comment.

Anyway, I've just came back from a 5-day trip to Haikou, the capital city of Hainan, after taking 28th place (out of 160+ riders) in a 120km bicycle race (yeah!).

When the plane touched down at Pudong Airport, I gave a sigh of relief.

Good to be back.

Yeah, true. I know I said I dislike Shanghai, but that's before I went to Hainan.

See, Malaysia is like a wife I was "assigned" to before even I was born; like an arranged marriage common in the old, old China. This wife turned out to be a bitch and I decided to walk out of the social contract.

New York is like a wife I love, who embraced me in return, till she regained her sanity and ditched me.

Shanghai is like the famous large-breasted Angelina-like shrew I heard so much about, whom I tried and failed to tame.

Dejected, I took a break and visited a distant cousin of the childhood wife who is a street-walker that makes excellent roti canai.

But I can only eat so many roti canai before I puke.

So I decided to pursue the shrew again, this time with a new understanding.

You really have to accept the lover you choose, warts and all.

You never get into a relationship hoping you can change the other.

YOU change YOUR attitude; or you leave.

It's an old wisdom.

You do that, and get yourself a sense of humour.

For better or for worse.

Emotional Problem

I live on the upstairs of a duplex; downstairs live the elderly parents of the landlady.

The landlady and her husband never visit except for on traditional festivities, like the recent Mid Autumn do.

The old couple really appreciates me being there, they seize on every chance to talk to me, and often invite me to watch TV with them. I’d sometimes buy them yoghurt, fragrant pears and sugarless instant oatmeal.

But they nag me sometimes and say I don’t eat properly, that I don’t dress warm enough. And sometimes I go to parties and would come home late I’d get a soft lecture.

And of course, the match-making thing…

One day they asked about my love life, past and present, and at some point I briefly mentioned my ex lady in NYC, and her parents' stories.

Like this old couple at home, my ex’s parents were also professors, and ardent Communist cadres.

The old lady kept a long silence before saying:

The first batch of people who left the country in the 1980s…. they have emotional problems with the country; it's a matter of the heart…(和国家有些感情上的问题, 心里有个痛).

And then tears came to her eyes.

I have read a lot of books on modern China history, and know quite a bit about what intellectuals of their generation has gone through during those years.

But I never expect to hear anyone describe it as an emotional problem.

It is like saying your oh-so-loving father has one day become crazy, drunk, and abusive and you have to leave home the first chance you get in order to keep your soul intact.

I am wondering how many Malaysians are having this emotional problem with our country.

And how many have left.

Or are leaving.

priceless

What would I not give, to see a smile like that?

Because, really, for everything else, there is a Mastercard.

Which I don't have.