( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

EDIT: Sorry folks. Really tremendously apologetic - massively terrible post to fuck up lj-cutting for.

Largely for my own reference, because I was thinking about this a while ago and was horrified to see I'd only done 2006. Much page-stretching and browser-killing to ensue below cut, because that is the nature of 'art'.

2007 Art Meme
( 2007 Art Meme - A little NSFW, pic-intensive )
_________________________________________

2008 Art Meme
( 2008 Art Meme - Moar NSFW, very pic intensive. )

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

This post is dated 24th Sept, technically: today I am stomachachey and headachey and...kinda distractedly studious. That, and I have to fool Azri into eating dried fish-strip wrapped antibiotics.


( Azri visits the vet for something more concerning than I would like. )

So I caught a bus home and caught a bus back later again. I told them to call me so I could be there for the procedure, but I guess they've had enough of hysterical pet owners - they called me when he was almost done. I went to pick him up; the female vet popped out with a smile and gave me his meds and required items. "He didn't need sedation," she said. "He was very well behaved." When I stared down at the powder and the antiseptic bath I asked if I had to bandage it or something - "No, it's okay, we don't want the paw to get moist." - no, I meant what if he licks it all off, shouldn't I stop him - she looked at me, dubious and puzzled. "Well, he's been very good and he hasn't licked his paw at all after we solved the problem. It shouldn't be an issue...but if you're really worried, you could put a buster collar on him." I didn't have a buster collar so I bought one for 10 bucks.

Throughout this ordeal, the nice savvy celeb-chasin' lady I met on Nico-day had texted and called me in the meantime. Her rather important text said this: "Jens0n is in swisotel d stamf0rd at equin0x 2dy.2-5pm w/lewis." I spent a while debating on whether to call silencestation who was catching up on some well-deserved sleep...and I interrupted her anyway as I toted the cat about, searching for another cab. "Jens is at Swissotel, fuck it." I growled into the phone. "2 to 5." A drowsy "Eh?" We'd decided not to go. It was probably too late. It was probably a private event. There were probably lots of Lewis-stalkers waiting for the kill.

I came home and the cat, though a little sulky, was doing well. It broke my heart a little that when I opened the bag, he shunned from the entrance. Then when he emerged after a "We're home, Azri," he set about to licking his paw.

Well, guess that buster collar was well worth. I'm also eyeing his antibiotics dubiously because they're liver flavoured, and I can tell you the cat does not like liver flavours and I suspect he will throw it up as soon as he can, but we'll give it a shot.

( Yeah, we've been so good at keeping mutual consensus nowadays. )

We passed by the manager again, gave him a game smile and a laugh. I kept up the mag, we discussed how impossibly nice Nico was, after today. They were justified. Nico's too approachable. That's right.
We didn't get the autograph, but I came home and gamely sent him a Twitter message, because he saw us. And you know what? As I pat my stupid cat and wonder how to put that buster collar on him...

I think I'm definitely going to fail my exams now.

POSTNOTE: And that savvy autograph hunter saw Jens and John Button go through the gate, no one bothering them, no one asking for his signature. And as much as I regret it a little, I can let go. I can let go.

And I really need to study.

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

"Is there anywhere we have to be going these few days?" I asked.
"Can't find anything at all - and believe me I've been checking non-stop. There is this report on a private event but I can't even access the site without a subscription, so..."

So we spent the next few hours to the morning talking, bitterly arguing, solemnly conceding, and I said "Well, maybe I'll call them tomorrow," and set the alarm clock for three hours later.

Three hours later we were both pacing, I said "I'm surprised I got up." and silencestation said "You slept?" Half an hour later after calling malls and recceing several watch forums we discussed how to wheedle private event details out of a salesperson of a prestigious watch distributor over the phone. I adjourned to the bedroom again, with a notepad handy and my best official voice. "Good morning," I said, "I saw on the RC website that you were having a Williams Oris event?"

( cementing their/our doom. )

Then we realised we were fucking stupid as we occupied a small space at the B1 fountain, circling up every 15 minutes for the next three hours to check what was going on. "There're amps!!" "There's a easel with a wrapped-up sign!" "Man, I've barely moved in my Freud. I've only read what - 30 odd pages." "I've only made it till week 3 of Operations Processes...." And then we ran out of water and got ripped off and then we went up at 4.30pm; ran into one sole other lady who quite cheerily showed us her record of pictures of Nico at Millennia Walk last year. "He's very nice." She reassured. Well, he was very late. Or rather, since the cam crews came at 5.40pm the staff were obviously hoping we'd go.

( the kind i'd like to meet… )

Anyway, the staff were very nice to the obvious event-crashers who crowded outside of the shop, attempting to get a photo of Nico through the yards and yards of people who barely knew anything about him. I don't know what's it about our faces but Jun and I had a lot of inquiries as to what was going on... and I can't say I was in a good mood at all because I hadn't managed to do what I'd come to do: get a fucking glimpse of the blondie.

( they listened! )

He went back in for more silly media stuff and an interview - by this time, most of the glory-hunters had dispersed, leaving the nice lady, us, a couple of nosy Ferrari fans and a nearly-professional autograph and photo hunter. We were content to wait. What were more hours if we'd been there since 2? He emerged with a very small entourage, even a guy labelled SECURITY, and the lady and said autograph hunter had managed to skilfully manoeuvre their items and pens into his grasp beyond that of his security's. I tried, only to be [quite excitedly, he seemed to be really into his job] denied by the SECURITY dude. I was quite content, really, and I didn't want to make it too tragic but"RUN!!!" said the autograph hunter. "JUST BARGE IN!!" said the lady and I darted by the side, thrust out last year's Monaco edition of F1 Racing with a white pen and implored, "Mr. Rosberg, could you sign this please?" He stalled a little and strolled gently as he looped his N and R gracefully across the page, and handed it back: "Thank you so much." I said, astonished and surprised by how obliging he was, and rejoined the lady, the autograph hunter and Jun to trail Nico wherever he was going.

( i have to admit – it's getting better… )

And trail we did, again, behind when the lady mentioned "You haven't wished him good luck, have you?" "Damn, you're right!" I cried, aghast at my own manners. So as he descended down to Harry's, we twain leaned over the banister and called for him: I called "Mr. Rosberg!" It rang a little in the CHIJMES courtyard, and to my immense amazement, he stopped and turned to look up - it was all in one fluid motion, a gentle, subtle twist of his body. He looked at me, and encouraged by the blue of his eyes, I told him "Thank you so much again, and good luck!" I couldn't hear him, but he allowed himself a slightly more than perfunctory smile, and mouthed what seemed to be 'no problem' before he begun down the steps again. "Good luck and I hope you'll be on the podium!" cheered the lady, and for good measure I mentioned "All the best to you and Williams!" as he was subsumed into the second part of the Oris private event.

We spent a while talking and learning critical things from the kindly autograph hunter and the nice lady about celeb chasing before the autograph hunter re-iterated "He's too approachable. And nobody's really interested. Look the security's so lax. Let's give it a try!"

( partycrashin' bandits and paparazzi biz )

After a while I started attempting to take him inbetween his media smiles; mesmerised by the slightly vulnerable and lost look. I was pleased to hear that Vivian, his gurl, was there as he said "My girlfriend's not the jealous type." And as Nico was led out for another interview, the autograph hunter grinned and handed a delicious-looking private party entree - I fed it to Jun before we ducked out, thrilled by delinquency. And as we proceeded out to the stairs, who was there again but darling Nico Rosberg, sitting in a high chair, his golden curls haloed around his features:

( what my lens was for. )

Then, as he was nearly done, I snapped my second-last photo:



- hating myself for its poor focus, because it shows everything about Nico I had experienced. He is more beautiful than his pictures show; he embodies a grace of a bird, so curious and quick, ethereal in his looks. It's an angelic androgyny that he falls into, transcending the traditional definitions of gender-specific loveliness. He was so unbelievably gorgeous, and cliché statements have their good points...his beauty inside shone outside. I was wondering and bewildered by his kindness, his docileness to his fans and their wants. I owed him much.

( getting so much better all the time?! )

We three groups parted, and we finally went for some sustenance...we hadn't eaten all day, and we were too sick to. And what is there to say, that I haven't already...

- Nico Rosberg is best experienced in person. As I'd said, he is inhumanly ethereal, and horribly kind, to a fault. He's too obliging, and he's too nice. He's too approachable, indeed, and he's too sweet. He really is a terrible darling. And if you see him in person, not becoming a fan is pretty impossible.
- We were, and I was, so tremendously lucky. That there were so little people, that of all people we'd do this for it was Nico who is a darling, that there was the fantastic autograph hunter to pull us in and out of places with the kind of bravado that can only come from gatecrashing these events seamlessly.
- I was, and still am, guilty and sorry that I'd approached him so much, exploited him a little and he was all too good to let me do it. I hadn't intended, at all, to expect anything; I just wanted to see him, to get a good glimpse of him in person to know he exists in this plane. As it is, it's still surreal. Photographing him was tremendously surreal. And these pictures of my own - ? Even more surreal.
- I don't ever intend to do anything as brazen as all of this again, but I sure would like to see him every year he comes down, just once. There was a pitiful attendance at the event today. And that, you can only get in Singapore.
- Anyone at all who may be able to find this and are painfully agonised: 1. Don't give up hope. Keep trying because he will likely oblige you. 2. Come to Singapore. No, rly.
- Fan 4 lyfe. Did I mention fan 4 lyfe?
- I've been watching F1 for 12 odd years now, and sports just means so much to me. These things, as strangely trivial as they are, they mean a lot to me. Especially since the mom has been weighing on my mind. For the favourite driver to be everything you would've liked him to be and more...that's pretty priceless.

( proof of spoils )

As it is, I've got to figure out how to frame shirts. The autograph hunter said, "Man, that would fetch a lot on eBay!" and laughed; but Jun darkly said "Yeah, and we'd be the ones bidding on it."

POSTNOTE: [Perhaps surprisingly] I had a lot more photos that turned out well; the ones here are just my favourites. If you'd like all the photos I took from our ridiculous day out, feel free to download the zip.

HALP: Imploring anyone who may've gotten a copy of today's Today - could you keep it for me and I'll find a way to get it from you? Please and thanks! ;)

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

went out today to
get fun but did not go as
expected. bollocks.

EDIT: And silencestation's...
i stalked a blondie:
that sums up my day, my week,
my month - heck, my year.

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

( - though I probably shall not exclaim as I die - )

- "oh willow, LoudTwitter, tit willow."
[stereophilic twittery.]

Anyway, my birthday. So full of win-type wonderful. I stayed up with silencestation who was obsessively finishing up my gifts that I had berated her the upteenth time not to kill herself over [though a good part of it was me selfish fault, since she asked 'option A or B' and I said 'gosh I can't make up my mind, both? 8DDDD'], to finish this up:

( inking progression... )

Until Djinn was completely out of it and done, so after rudimentary breakfast off to bed until a few hours later. Got up just in time to have the Dad pop by with deliriously $12 cake, that has a strangely long and complicated story of Djinn not revealing what's on it until the day of my birthday itself. Long story short, I had no idea what was on it, and Djinn was being self-derogatory as per usual so I don't trust a fucking word she says.



So lovely and adorable it's mad.. I spent probably 15 straight minutes bashing Djinn's head in until she stopped complaining about it so I'm just reiterating the long-short here.

Past that it was just a lot of cooking, as far as I could remember: brining, soaking, washing, de-scaling, etc… And then it was dinner. The light over the dining table had blown, so the Dad moved the table outwards towards the lit area of the living room – a little off the area of the telly, where Man U was playing Arsenal at home at 7.40pm. I was craning my head over as I poured the sparkling juice, because of my now not-so-recent revelations that I am alcohol-intolerant…

( Yay seaaaafood! )

After dinner the dad dutifully washed up, while - get this, Djinn and I sat there in front of the telly gaping while Man U boringly inched closer to wrapping up the English Premier League title. My dad passed by, sat down, got bored and went away. He came back a while later, looked over, clucked his tongue about how the match must suck because there no goals at all [we conclusively agreed, though still not peeling our eyes from the screen] and then went to play with the cat. He was kind enough to agree to cake-time after the match. In the meantime, we went crazy over the crappy footage, and my dad went downstairs to buy a newspaper and retrieve the mail [I got three postcards: GB-75134, PT-82389 and NL-164079! Got a bunny one the day before, too.]

On another note, my presents were a little complicated on the Djinn side – largely that she couldn't give 'em to me in front of the Dad [no, not like that] so when we went to pick up the Transformers Encore Big Cassette Mission Set 1 we also delightedly picked up a nice discounted bundle of TFA Blurr and Swindle [I paid for the Mission Set and she paid for the TFA] so the TFA made it as her present to me in front of the Dad.



My cake and prezzies. TFA bundle in that big spotted bag over there, the plaid with the Chinese from me Dad, and the last one ostensibly from me Dad's girlfriend [which was really dictated by me Dad]. Oh, and my Guitar Hero Les Paul says hello on the left.

( The big 2-0! Or the big two candles. Imagine that. A bunch of you have known me since I was 12. Most of you have known me since I was 14. Scary, huh? )

So I did wish for something as retarded as the last one I wished for, which essentially means it will not come true. The spoils of the day were awesome, at least:

( It's knowing and waiting, and knowing is half the battle. )

I'm going to have a time-warp interval a bit in the future just to mention that catatonic_cats is some kind of weirdo who has this totally unwarranted affection for my handsome self and was rebellious enough to send me not only all the blank ACEO cards I told her not to, but also sent me some lovely paint/tea/ink-stained ones, and it all came with this box with pretty dangling things.

( Seriously man! What is this?!?!?! )

Back to the 16th now. When the Dad went away full and satisfied and cheery about 12 dollar cake [he made off with almost 1/2 of it] Djinn and I kinda digested for a while and then proceeded on to get to Djinn's Real Gifts^TM.

Her real gifts were, and are, her gift of writing. ::dodges some wailing and unhappy swipes:: You will not remember that last year, she filled up a bunch of flash cards that one of my weirdest friends arrrghigiveup gave me with gay haiku. When we toddled about in Liang Court's Kinokuniya a few days before my birthday, we sighted them and she asked, "would you like haikus of Option A or Option B?" and I was like "man, I dunno…both? 8D" [::shifty eyed rephrasal::] Well, she took me seriously and she regretted it [recap top of entry anecdote].



4 different pen colours. Three days of writing. Two fandoms/pairings. A night of penning. 75+129=204 haikus.
That's what's in these things. And they both moved me to tears.

I don't cry. I particularly do not cry over writing. In fact, I am hardly impressed by writing. I avoid fanfiction and most sorts of 'serious writing' posted online because more often than not I sit down, read and start feeling so embarrassed for the writer that I can't focus on reading the words anymore. Often I rarely feel. I did not feel particularly sad when I read both of these [well, technically all of these]. But out of nowhere – I wept at the end. [Just like the last one…Do I see a trend here? Moving Haikus^TM?] Very strange! But here, I can't resist some excerpts even though you won't know what's going on anyway:

( From the black kitten… )

( And from the blue bird… )

Wow, it was really hard not to put everything there! They all fit into a Meiji Meltykiss box, which we bought on the same day we bought the flash cards.

Oh, you know Djinn, that wasn't all. First there was this:

( The image on my cake! )

And then there was this:



Which in my opinion is just really crazy beautiful. I was literally struck speechless.

And the full image is here in an incredibly romantic but also a very uh homoerotic [understatement] NSFW fashion. I've got it in a hard card on my table that I flip over to my cake image whenever my dad is in the house. 8D

So! That really about concludes it, I really could not think of anything better. It was pretty much bestest day ever, again. You know what, I really don't know what I've done to deserve this. Do I just inexplicably have some kind of weird good karma magnet or something? silencestation is just the most brilliant person in the world to me and I have her waiting me hand and foot [well, not really, but she's liek my artsy bitch or something]. Then I have so many of you out there who are just so strangely nice to me, nice beyond words, so…so awesome to me. I don't get it! But thank you so tremendously much! There are no words to describe, like I said, only lots of flailing and adoration.

A few days later we went to the Bird Park to test my lens [under the staunch insistence of my dad, too] so you can expect some spam coming from that sometime soon. But really, everybody, thank you.

M: [having sacrificed the Australian GP for sleep and for maximum Que Sera Seraness] Man, I can't wait to see Seb(astien Vettel) go 'skcrreh skcrrech' along the track insistently.
J: [deadpan] I can't wait to see Rob(ert Kubica) stab him with an axe.
M: Awesome!

[two and a half hours later]
M: [dismayed] What?! It doesn't happen?! He doesn't stab him with an axe?!!
J: [shrugs] Sorry man.
M: [stabs J with an axe]