Wednesday, April 30

right now

I am in a hostel in beijing, whoring the wifi connection.
A lot has happened in the past weeks.
I promise an update soon.
But let me just whore the free wifi for now.

Monday, April 21

Spling. Trains. Dalian. Samuel L Jackson's Schlong and some other things.

April 19
2 pm Beijing Time


I am comfortably seated on a hard seat en route to the coastal city of Dalian. I'm traveling with one of my Chinese buddies, Qiu Min and we're going to Dalian to see our friend Dalton, who currently works there. Two hours ago, I was sitting by the exit window beside the trash bag, while being ashed by passenger smokers {couldn't blame them because Qiu Min and I were at the smoking section of the train which was also the trash section which is also the exit way. Meh}. It was a good thing that me and my Chinese friend were able to find an empty seat during the last stop, or else we would be spending the next eight hours sitting beside cigarette butts, ashes, and the trash bag, oh yeah, not to mention spit {Somebody spat like half a foot away from me two hours ago and I was thankful enough that it didn't ricochet in my direction}


Didn't I mention it was spring already? Aaaaahh spling. Just saying it makes me get a boner. My shitsville of a city is so beautiful during springtime. It becomes some place else, almost surreal. Almost like one of the scenes in Kurosawa's Dreams. Greens, blossoms, warm weather, skirts, shirtless dudes. Priceless. People in these areas, both expat and local, start to shed off their winter duds come spring time. You get to see more skin and they start to become more pleasant in your eyes. Even I look more pleasant in springtime methinks.


I've been running lately. It's warm, so I run. Speaking of running, I have this recurring dream that I am running naked in some rice field or wheat field or corn field or something. Weird. It's hardly erotic I think. I mean, imagine yerself, running in your birthday duds with all that flora and fauna getting in contact with yer lil Omar. Talk about chafing yer balls.


My train is passing a rice field now. It's one big rice field. I remember the time when I was 17 and I was in the middle of a rice field and under a mango tree . Damn, I was a tweener and horny.


I haven't eaten instant noodles/two minute noodles/fanbianmian in months. I only ate some on the train. Maaaaaaaaan it's so good. Thank God for the late Momofuku Ando {the dude who invented instant noodles and I have an entry about him}and for MSG! Mr. Ando, you da man!

12 hours, 3 different kinds of seafood and two and a half cups of instant noodles and a can of beer later...

I just came out fresh from the shower feeling really bloated after eating all that seafood and ramen noodles and I am almost ready for bed. I am billeted in this nice hotel/apartelle room with Qiu Min and Dalton, our host. The hotel {I forgot the name} is somewhat of an apartelle and some people actually time share it or something. Dalton tells Qiu Min and I that his family has a VIP card so we get some discount. He also told us that he heard some moans here and there when he checked our room before he fetched us at the train station. The three of us think that this hotel is a place where good things happen outside of marriage. Sweet.

Our room is sort of like a studio place with two beds, a kitchenette, a shower and toilet, fridge, microwave, mini washer, cable and airconditioning. Pretty nice, like a bachelor's pad. No internet which is a bummer. I still need to do some work and I asked my Chinese friend Dalton if I could get a modem or maybe I could just go to a cafe. He said, “We'll see.” I hope he does see because my boss is gonna kill me.


A while ago, during dinner and cigarette break, Dalton, Qiu Min, and I were watching some cop movie that starred Kevin Spacey and Samuel L. Jackson. Then Qiu Min asked me if I know or have any black friends. I told them yes. Then Dalton asked me if black guys have big dicks. I was like, erm I really dunno dudes. I was tempted to tell them that if I ever do sleep with one I'd be sure to tell them if this popular belief in among Chinese about black men having big shlongs is true. The two were silent and stared back at the tv screen while the movie focused on the wounded Samuel L. Jackson lying on a stretcher in an ambulance while the camera focuses on his police badge which was conveniently placed o

n his crotch. Well, his left pant leg or whatever.

8 hours later...

I woke up this morning with this odd sensation that I am in somebody else's bed. I am. I open my eyes and stretched in bed and scratched my nuts. I got off of bed and went to the terrace and a view of Dalian greets me. Nice weather. Still a bit chilly but the weather report says that it was gonna be sunny today so I'm optimistic. I showered and debated if I was gonna wear shorts and flip flops. Dalton and Qiu Min found it funny that I should wear shorts and flip flops. The hell should I know that it was still gonna be cold in Dalian during this time of year. I mean, I live further up north and it was like Miami already. 30 degrees Celsius. The highest temperature in Dalian was 21. I actually did know, but I was stubborn and still took my shorts and flip flops {which I borrowed from my friend Davin}. The two of them told me to wear something warmer, like a jacket and a pair of jeans. I had jeans but I didn't bring my jacket. I decided to wear denims and flipflops and brought my back pack along with Consuelo {my laptop} and my shorts. I told myself “Fuck this, I didn't borrow these flops and brought along me shorts for nothing! I'm gonna be wearing them even if I freeze to death!”

1 hour later

The three of us are seated in a Chinese restaurant which Dalton and Qiu Min tell me, is a fairly popular restaurant all over China. It even has several branches in Dalian. I think we were the first customers for the day because when we entered they were still cleaning the toilets and some of the staff still had sleep on their faces. We got ourselves a table ordered. We waited for quite a bit. We did small talk that mostly consisted of what was on the docket for the day. Dalton was taking us to this theme park which was OK by me though I would've just preferred to chill on the beach and drink bear and smoke fags and sleep. But Dalton said that it still wasn't good to swim around this time of year, so I relented. So there we were waiting for our brunch that consisted of some nasty looking mutton soup, eggplants, and sweet and sour pork and three bowls of rice. When it came we ate. Then Dalton noticed something. HAIR. I dunno if it's human hair but there's hair, on our sweet and sour pork. He calls the waiter. The waiter denies it was hair. It was prolly some remnant of some chemical reaction between the vinegar and the pork fat and the spices and shit but it wasn't hair. Dalton asked if he could talk to the manager. The waiter said something that I didn't understand, but it was quite clear to me that we weren't gonna be able to talk with the manager. Dalton asked the waiter what they were going to do about it. The waiter said he didn't know. Dalton said “You better do something about it”, in a firm but polite voice. The waiter excused himself. The three of us looked at the hair and then at each other. I placed the haired sweet and sour pork on a tissue put it aside just in case the jury wanted evidence. Since the waiter's would most likely not do anything about it, we concurred that we eat the wretched sweet and sour pork. So we ate. I focused on the pineapples and the bell peppers.

We did get a discount however. Like a dollar fifty. Meh.

2 hours later

After the sweet and sour pork. I asked Dalton and Qiu Min if I could have an hour at the coffee shop so I could finish up some work. We found a coffee shop with adequately priced coffee and awesome Internet connection. After that we headed up for the Lover's Lane in Dalian which is basically a nicely manicured road on a hill where most newly weds drive their cars for pictures and shit. We were not the only ones walking, there were a good number of tourists and locals trying to enjoy the nice warm weather. We took some pictures along the way. I saw a castle along the way which turned out to be Dalian's Shell Museum. It looked so out of place and it looked like it popped out from a Brother's Grim fairy tale. Then I saw the beach. I asked Dalton and Qiu Min if we could stop by for a while. Dalton said yes, but for a while {he's a take charge kinda guy}. So we did. I finally got to wear me shorts! Booya. The entrance was 2 yuan which was ok. There was quite a crowd there too. I wanted to swim but the water was freeeeeeezing. Three of us did try to soak our feet a coupla times or more but it was freeeeeeezing. Meh. I wish that my city was by the bay. Well, at least I get to wear shorts in Dalian. And flip flops too.

Speaking of flip flops. They're killing me. Davin warned me that they hurt his feet when he wears them. Stupid me didn't listen because I thought they looked so hot in my feet {they do} and decided to borrow them from Davin. My feet look hot but they started complaining after two hours with the motherfuckers. What sucks was that I had to wear them for the whole day since I left my shoes at our hotel room.

3 hours later
The flipflops are still killin my feet. But at least I look hot in them.

We're in the Ocean Theme Park. The tickets were $27 US {which I find too expensive. Meh, I'm Asian so sue me}. It's pretty OK tho. It has shitloads of giant aquariums/aquatic museums, dolphin shows {no Orca's just flippers}, park rides {which you still had to pay for despite of the $27 ticket!}, and other attractions like a bird sanctuary and bungee jumping {which you also had to pay. I wanted to do it but I didn't bring enough money with me... Sucks being poor on holidays! I wonder if there's a Do-It-Yourself Bungee kit?}.

I didn't bother watching the dolphin show because I saw dolphin shows on TV already. So I just wandered around the aquariums while Dalton and Qiu Min and the rest of the park goers were watching flipper do the hula. I just realized that it really feels good to be the only person in an aquatic museum. I feel some sort of connection with the belugas, the sharks, the walruses, the sea turtles, the sea lions and the polar bears who are inside a Plexiglas cage. Or maybe it's just me. I took my time in the aquariums. Then the show finished so I had to meet up with Dalton and Qiu Min.

The theme park has cute staff members tho which is a plus. I just love men that smell of fish. Erm, forget that I said that. I mean it.

4 hours later

The three of us found this place that sell donuts. It turned out to be the same coffee shop chain that I went to this morning. The donuts we're nothing miraculous but they were close to home. I came in my pants eating two caramel glazed donuts. I was in an orgasmic daze while the three of us were walking towards the market where Qiu Min was supposed to buy his starfish {don't ask me why}. They could tell I came in my pants. Donuts.

2 hours later

The three of us met up with Dalton's girlfriend, Scarlet. I gave her the name Scarlet because she wanted an English name and her Chinese name meant “deep red”. She had been using the name “Scarlet” for almost two years but with the wrong spelling thus the wrong pronunciation. SCOWLLEN , which was really kilometers away from Scarlet. But whatever. I'm in China.

Bulgogi. Is. God's. Gift. To. Korean-kind.

And to me.

I love Bulgogi.

Bulgogi rocks.

I had a hard on while eating it.

I'm having a hard on just writing about it.

12 hours later

I Have consumed my 5th instant noodle. And I seriously think I should be off of it for a while. I dunno how much MSG my body could handle. Dalton made Qiu Min and I eat sea urchins. Raw. Like a sea urchin cut in the middle with its innards showing and its spikes still movin. Trying to summon my inner macho man {Village People style yo}. I poured vinegar on the sea urchin and scooped up the yellow slimy substance that I was supposed to eat. It wasn't bad. Though I would've liked it cooked. I washed my mouth with instant noodle soup. I can still taste the slime. I think I need to drink mouthwash. Or vodka. I think I'm gonna go vegetarian for a coupla days or so.


5 hours later.

I'm on the train. A sleeper train, thank God. I'm finishing up this blog entry. Qiu Min is sleeping. I'll be arriving in Changchun at 4.30 in the morning. Then I go straight to work.

I just finished texting a friend of mine in Changchun. Turns out that my gaydar is fucked up. I don't know who's gay and who's not not unless they have rainbow flags and an NBC logo on their foreheads. I seriously need an upgrade. Looong Story and I'm waay to knackered to write, meh. That's another blog entry.

Thursday, April 10

CHILLIMANJARO.... Weather. Holidays. and My Friend Stu the Stripper.

I'm naming this blog entry Chillimanjaro. I dunno how I came up with the word, but I like it. It kinda sounds like Mt. Kilimanjaro and chill. A mountain of chill. Booya. I'm in chillimanjaro mode right now. Omar is chilling like a leftover tv dinner in yer mom's fridge.

I just love wireless by the way. I'm writing this blog entry in my bathroom. Wendy is in the living room watching some movie. She prolly thinks I'm jerkin off to porn.

The weather in my part of the Noodle Kingdom has been super freaky recently. Like yesterday it was nice and sunny. But when I went to work today it was 2 degrees! 2 degrees!!!!!!! Global warming yo.

The May Holidays are a comin' and I'm planning to go to Beijing to meet { }. I'm sorta psyched. Well, ok, I'm super psyched. { } and I are planning to go to Yunnan Province for a few days. I've been there many summers ago but { } hasn't and he wanted to see the fabled Shangri-la and the Old Town of Lijiang. I'm also going to meet my Chinese friends in Dalian next Friday. I need the sea breeze and warmer weather so I decided to spend next weekend in Dalian. I'm planning to blog in these two places so you will see pictures. I guess I'm bringing Consuelo {my laptop} with me, then.

So much for that.

On to the jucier bits of this blog entry.

I have a friend named Stu {which is not his real name of course as he currently works for an organization of high esteem } who is currently in dire need of extra cash because his current employer is not paying his proletariat ass on time. So, Stu being the creative American of Semitic decent he is, decided to take matters in his own hands. He did what any able-bodied American would do in times of recession - he sought part time work. As he was sending out his CV to various whatnots and shitnots, Stu met my other friend Lily who happened to know of a certain job offer only available this Saturday night. Yep, a one time only job offer of sorts. Should he accept, Stu will be paid 1,000 yuan ( approximately $142) this Saturday night. The only catch is that he has to dance naked to the tune of stripper songs in some Russian bachelorette party. Like I said, Stu being American did it the American way, he booya'd himself and started practicing his moves to various tunes that ranged from Cher to Erasure. Of course, his ever supportive friends from the Noodle Kingdom {Me, Wendy, Lily and Skye} became his guinea pigs. We gave him some pointers, like which songs to pick and what to wear. Among his friends, Lily was the only one who has not experienced being in a strip club {which is ironic since she was the one who got Stu the gig - which technically makes her the pimp. Booya}. I've been in a strip club once... ok twice. OK three times {I'm gonna burn in hell!}. Wendy and Skye have seen a strip show once. Stu has been in a girly bar sucky sucky suck suck one too many. OK, we're basically corrupting Lily here, but hey, she was drunk and she was getting 20 percent commission.

We finally coaxed Stu to perform for us {we were bored and tired of Chinese TV, so yeah } so he went into the kitchen to practice. Then to the bathroom where there was a big mirror. Then to the kitchen yet again. After 40 minutes and like 10 attempts of getting through the second stanza of Peaches' Fuck the Pain Away, Stu finally managed to dance to the whole song.

The verdict.

First, let me say that it was surreal. Who da thunk that one of my friends would actually strip for cash? Good thing I don't have a moral compass. Anyways, the verdict. It wasn't bad actually. He needed practice but his performance wasn't terrible either. Although there was the bit when he almost knocked his Mac during his routine. I was hoping Stu would fart during the performance because it would have been hilarious to actually hear a stripper fart. We did give him one advice though. Well, Wendy and i did. It was all in the hips. Like hips don't lie, yo.

I received a text message while I was typing this entry. Stu got the job. So he's shopping for a thong tomorrow.

Sadly, this is not Stu my readers. I needed a picture of a stripper so I googled one. If this were Stu, I'd be paying him ten dollars for a lapdance {whutcanisayi'mcheap}

I reckon he's pretty excited. I told him to practice and make his friends proud and shit like that.
I'm proud of Stu here for taking matters on his own hands and grabbing it by the balls and all that crap. I seriously doubt he's doing this for the money though { although he does need some extra cash }. I think its more like he's doing this because for the thrill of checking it off his To Do List.

Questions. {** are my answers}
  • Would you have the balls {or the ovaries} to do what Stu did?**I would've, honestly. Lily asked my why I wasn't doing it. I said the customers were girls. Now, if the customers were 80 something farts that have trust funds that could adopt 69 Malawi children, then I'd definitely do it!
  • Would you strip tease for money or for thrills? ** Both. Meh. I'm greedy.

Friday, April 4

An Open Letter to the Universe

Dear Ms./Mr./Mrs./ {whatever} Universe,

This is the second time that I write a letter addressed to you. The first one was out of innocence, I suppose. Call it juvenile but it was sincere. Now, I find myself writing to you again, inside my kitchen, sitting in front of my laptop while my friends are watching "Gilmore Girls" in the living room {talk about setting the scene... and yes, I think they need intervention... and maybe so do I}.

Why, you ask, am I writing to you for the second time?

Boredom, I suppose?

I really don't know.

I am sure of one thing though. I am writing to you now, not to lament or even to ask for anything in return or any favors or random blessings that you might want to bestow upon me or whatnot. Perhaps I am writing to you because writing is the only thing that grounds me. It keeps me sane. I am shivering as I type the words. I am on my second pack now. I'd like to cry but I can't afford it. Like I told you before, I've never cried genuine tears. Although right now, I wish that I could. I'd give anything to shed raw, unabashed, unfiltered, tears. Salty tears.

You probably have figured it out, Ms./Mr./Mrs./ {whatever} Universe, that your lovechild is not so hot right now. Sad would be the operative word. I wouldn't go as far as existential or ennui or whatever the fuck people call it these days, so I'll stick to plain and simple sad. Yes Universe, your brown child is as sad. Probably sadder than Al Gore was when he lost Florida. And this brown child is waiting for the fucking Nobel Peace Prize that would never come. Salty tears is what he needs right now. Somehow, his brain cells tells him that he shouldn't be expecting any salty tears.

I have always been open to you Ms./Mr./Mrs./ {whatever} Universe. You know everything there is to know about me. You know my addictions, my frustrations, my joys, my desires, my passions. You know what goes inside my cesspit of a head. You know my thoughts. You know about the unwritten stories that I have yet to write and those unsummoned words that I have yet to conjure. I am an open casket to you. You could be my perfect lover but then again, you are the cosmos. And one basic law of nature is that I can never fuck the cosmos. Even fuck it in a good way. Somehow I could never get that through my thick head.

I am an open casket to you Universe.

But to the Other, I am not.

And that has always been my strength and my downfall. I am hidden {yet aren't all your children are?}.

I have always been asked questions about anything that would give them a clue or even a subtle hint about who I really am. I always try to avoid these questions by answering them with some off handed remark or an answer that would at least satisfy their curiosity at some level and yet not reveal anything at all. Call me a cock tease, Universe, but that's the way I was built, I guess {or did you make me that way?}. I guess that's the way I learn to cope with things. That's how I survived. You taught me that, didn't you? I have lived most of my adult life without having to depend on anybody and I take pride on this despite of. I am my own island like you are your own Universe. Like Grandpa Whitman said, "I celebrate myself." You taught me how to celebrate myself. And I thank you for that.

And I have been celebrating myself throughout my adult life. Until you gave me a proposition - a proposition that I couldn't resist - that I can celebrate myself with another. I knew what agreeing with your proposition entailed. After all, you didn't make me stupid. I acquiesced. Here I am. Writing this second letter to you.

One thing that I have realized though, that it is hard to celebrate oneself with another when you have learned to do it all alone for a long time. You didn't tell me that part {then again, why should you}. Why am I sad Ms./Mr./Mrs./ {whatever} Universe? Because I have come to the conclusion that nobody outside of my body can really know me except You. And that fucking hurts. That realization hit my psychic groin like a ton of psychic bricks. The funny thing is that I realized, a long time ago, that I can never fully know somebody because of what the corporeal and the non corporeal entailed. Long ago I realized that I can only have glimpses of the Other in front of me because that's what I can only do. I am contingent. Bound by space, time and the circumstances of my own body. I just never thought it applied vice-versa. Then it hit me. To the Other, I too, am an Other.

And the joke's on me.

You have always been the good teacher. Granted, that I did not necessarily approve of your methods but who am I to question the cosmos? Still I appreciate the education. And I am thanking you for it {probably the reason why I'm writing this}.

You taught me that Living is never easy. Living alone is hard. But I learned that living with the Other is difficult. Glimpses, Universe. Glimpses. These contingent meanings that flood me from all over is what you taught me to desire. So I celebrate{d} the glimpses. I did not settle {and still refuse to settle or think of it as such} for them because those in fact were the only way I understand and appreciate and even love the Other and for the Other to understand and appreciate and love me. It is not is not easy to celebrate these glimpses, especially when you know that they are all you can celebrate and all you can desire. But I celebrate them still even at the risk of me not being celebrated at all by the Other.

You taught me another important lesson though. The lesson of hope.

I can always hope that the glimpses would turn to minute revelations. I can always hope that these elusive glimpses of me and of the Other will become mysteries unfolding. I can always hope that these glimpses will explode to become a cosmos within. Minute revelations are after all, a universe in itself.

Again I ask myself why I write this to you, Universe. I still don't know. If I knew the answer then I probably wouldn't be writing this in the first place. This may not make sense to anybody who reads this but I know it makes sense to you. And to me.

I can only hope right now Ms./Mr./Mrs./ {whatever} Universe. By far, that's the most important lesson you have taught me. Not love, but hope. Because there can never be love without hope. So resolute is that hope that a universe unfolds within a glimpse.

I remain your child,

rufusOmar Bartleby