xniquet's middle finger technology: June 2009

Art of Screwing Your Anxiety

In my iPod: The Noose - a Perfect Circle
[download]
State of mind: Anxious
Location: Mumbai, India

Traveling is the high that you get when you purchase a one way ticket to a place you have no idea what to expect. You treat every fucking moment like it was a foreign movie that you have never watched before. Never fucking judge just one place for its let down but take it as a scene of a movie because there are bound to be ups and downs, happiness and miserable, laughter and sorrow. Don’t come to a conclusion on how your entire trip was until you on that flight back. Another thing I have learned on the road is instead of letting the bad and horrid tragedy in our lives changed us into a sour and skeptical beings, use the crap that we are in to our advantage and gain experience from it. What doesn’t kill us may leave a fucking dent but it would make us smarter, wiser and never be caught with our pants down again.

I would love to tell you that all this that I have conceived came to me in a moment of clarity on top of a holy and sacred mountain where the summits touches the clouds. But sadly I was in a bar half sober and was talking to a bunch of drunken backpackers when it came to me. Yeah I was drowning in anxiety because tomorrow my result is going to be out. Do I have to go through 6 months of treatment? Can I still carry on with my journey? Do I have to be admitted into some fucking hospital? So many questions yet no answer yet. I tried telling that to an Irish back packer but the advice he told me was, sit down and have another pitcher!

And you fucking know what, it does fucking makes sense. Why worry about tomorrow when you can worry about what fun are you going to have today? So what the heck, might as well enjoy every second of today and see what happens next. What better way to start than to upgrade my room from a shabby low class hotel which is not even worth mentioning into the world class Sahara Star Hotel. I guess this the most technologically advanced room that I have been in here in India. There are touch screen panels everywhere in the room; beside the bed and in the bathroom to control the lights, temperature and the huge ass plasma TV. Fuck, there are even lights underneath the bed; I guess it is to keep the monsters away. I think the glass panel door that separates the bath room and bedroom is just what you need when you have someone over for the night and not to mention the mirror on top of bed ceiling, just in case you wanna pull off a Christian Bale in American Psycho.

The Sahara Star of Mumbai

The Mercury room and there is even a Uranus room which sounds so wrong.

But somehow I am still bummed out because I couldn’t get a booking to the hilltop hotel that I have wanted to stay in since the day I set foot on India. Fucking place is fully booked till next year. Fuck! Not going to tell you what this place is yet because I am still trying to pull strings to get in there. How I wished the management of the hotel is like our Malaysian police, there is nothing you can’t get or get away with by paying a little fee.

Lights out.

29/6 In Mumbai

29/6 I'm Screwed

27/6 Leaving Bangalore

26/6 Curry and Beer

23/6 At the Hotel Gym

xniquet's journey across India

The Grave is Waiting to Eat Me Alive

In my iPod:
I Have To Look Up Just To See Hell - Marilyn Manson
[download]
State of mind: Fallen
Location: Mumbai, India

As I looked at my own reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but to stare at it reproachfully and spoke to it as if it was my malevolent twin. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into this time? Your face now is as coarse as sand papers that could easy grate through any Parmesan. It’s as dry as the Gobi and your pores are huge as an oil well. What the fuck were you ever thinking coming to a place like this? What have you done to yourself this time? I looked hard into the eyes of my twin only to realize that it was once again my own reflection that is staring back at me.

After an almost 2 hours flight from Bangalore Airport, I landed in Mumbai with the shittiest headache. It could be the increasingly insane weather and poor air quality here. But that didn’t stop me from going around the city because I was excited about being here. Mumbai or formerly Bombay - the largest city in India, second most populous city in the world; ranked seventh in the list of "Top Ten Cities for Billionaires"; Bollywood capital of the world and this is where Kamathipura is located – the oldest and second largest red light district in the world (the largest would be in Amsterdam). I am not trying to exaggerate but it is said that the concentration of hookers per square meter is so dense that it is impossible for off duty hookers to sit down. They would have to hang around the streets to solicit for potential perverts.

Just hours upon my arrival, I have already seen a few of them outside the streets waiting for foreigners like me to take the fucking bait.

Well, I am not afraid to tell you that visiting and understanding Kamathipura is the culmination of my trip here to Mumbai. But enough of Kamathipura for now because I think I have more pressing matters at hand.

I know I have said that India has taken its toll on me many many times. But I never thought that it would change me drastically. I’ve dropped 6kgs since I came here and now I am showing symptoms of tuberculosis infection. The chest pain and unceasing coughs has left me sleepless for the past 2 weeks and the last two days it has only got worse. The final straw was drawn when I started coughing up blood and I don’t think I can ignore the fact that my health is seriously compromised. At least now after consulting a friend, I have acknowledge that my BCG shot might not be enough to save me from TB but then again it could just be a severe case of a lacerated windpipe; TB or not, let’s just wait for the lab results before I jump into any conclusions that the earth and grave is waiting to eat me alive.

*Pout mouth alert!* Early lights out for me tonight, gotta get up early to get my X-ray done.

29/6 I'm Screwed

27/6 Leaving Bangalore

26/6 Curry and Beer

23/6 At the Hotel Gym

22/6 Curry Lobster

xniquet's journey across India

It Felt Like My Childhood Had Been Taken Away

In my iPod: Man In the Mirror - Michael Jackson
[download]
State of mind: ...
Location: Bangalore, India

After admiring the beautiful round breast and nipples of the Thai girl that starred as a hooker in Bruce Lee's The Big Boss, I was about to make an early retire to bed. This is what went through my head, how come the girls in all those 70s movie look so bloody fine while when 80s came, all the girls suddenly turn butt ugly as if they were hit by an ugly stick? Damn, I totally dig the chics in the 70s flick. Enough of 70s babes of the silver screen; as I was saying, I was about to hit the sack, old habit dies hard, I had to reload Twitter once on my mini Opera and see if there is anything new that is going on in the world right now. Usually it would be just crap at this time of the hour. but this caught my eyes:

"Oh well, he wasn't as "Invincible" as he claimed to be..."

"Yeah, nothing like a little stay in the hospital to attract some media attention to his dying popularity..."

"Hmmm....seems to be getting pretty serious..."

"Huh? you gotta be kidding me..."

"See, it could be a publicity stunt..."

"Is this for real ??? One minute he is revived , one minute he is dead"

"Alive again???"

"Alright when you see Lim Kit Siang Twittering about it, I am pretty sure that Michael Jackson's fat lady has sung. "

I know this isn't what you would expect from a Pop hater like me, but as I try to sleep I just couldn't help but to feel heavy hearted by his sudden death. All the mean things we say about him, the jokes and insults that we throw at him doesn't alter the fact that he was indeed a great artist and in some way or another, his songs has influence our lives. Have the scandals and lack of popularity of recent years overshadowed what he has achieve or is it just us trying to ignore his contribution and concentrate on his negative side? I admit that I was one that was ashamed to have my friends caught me listening to his songs while I was in college and I joined in the laughs and mockery when who would. I don't know where all this hatred started but it took his sudden death to remind me that I was the 7 year old kid who tried stealing money from my mum's purse because I wanted to get a copy of Michael Jackson's BAD cassette. Of course I got caught and was served a whooping chorus of cane noodles but only to find the cassette on my bed the next morning. We all have our Michael Jackson moments and mine was some serious ass whooping for trying to steal. As a old fart who has lived his life for almost 3 decades,I practically grew up to Michael Jackson's music and today it almost felt like my childhood had been taken away from me.

26/6 Curry and Beer

23/6 At the Hotel Gym

22/6 Curry Lobster

21/6 Luncheon with Olivia from Sg

18/6 In a bookstore, looking for Iris Chang's book

17/6 Wacthing Angels and Demons

xniquet's journey across India

Milk N' Roses (Nectar of the Breast)

In my iPod: Lotus Feet - Steve Vai
[download]
State of mind: Injured
Location: Bangalore, India

When you fucking say massage, all I can fucking picture is being in a sleazy room with a 3rd world lady dressed merely in bra and panties who can hardly speak any English but the longest English word that she knows and probably used the most is “Masturbate”. Condoms were kept in the most usual places inside the room from Jacob cracker tin boxes to Milo cans; just in case you get all heated up and want to take your dick for a ride and go the extra mile. But for those who rather not go all the way but still want to blow off some steam; for a little less than the fuck fee, you can always get a hand relief. But the price of the hand relief depends on whether you want her to be naked or not and for a little slightly higher price you can play with her breast while she service your shaft. What can I say, it is pretty standard everywhere.

I am sorry to you ladies with husbands who like going for massages; I just painted you a horrid reality of what really goes on inside a massage room. Now you fucking know, what it really means when your other half and his friends goes for a massage. I know it is not always like this but that was what happened to me when my friends brought me to a little health spa at Hotel Robin, Ipoh. But of course I didn’t do any of the above, not because I am some kind of saint or Boy Scout. If you fucking know me, I live for sex & porn and there is nothing bad that I wouldn’t do. But a man has got to have principles and mine is - I don’t believe in paying for sex. Sex should be free and should not be a fucking business transaction. So what I am trying to say is I will never pay for the service of a prostitute; unless it is free then I am cool about fucking a hooker.

I got the same old feeling of that little massage room in Robin Hotel when I stepped in one of the spa here in Bangalore. What if I succumb to the temptation of sex and went for the full package of fucking my massager’s brains out? Wouldn’t I be going against my non paying sex principle? A moment of anxiety was upon me as I lay naked with my ass facing skyward, waiting for somebody to attend to me; Fuck lord fuck, no super hot semi naked Bollywood like chic walking pass that door please.

But to my dismay, it was more than I anticipated when I slightly tilt my head upwards and saw a pair of hairy legs walking towards me. Spa motherfuckers sent a fucking guy to massage me. Man, this is so icky. Imagine being touched and rub all over by some hairy Indian dude. I know I ask not for a super hot chic but you don’t have to fucking give me a hairy Indian guy right? I would have been content if you gave me a middle aged Indian lady whose nipples were pointed southward or even maybe a butt ugly transgender, but not a hairy curry jockey.

My 45 minutes past like it was a one week’s ordeal and I couldn’t wait to put on my fucking robe, I just couldn’t stop imagining how that guy was drooling all over my bare ass. But I guess my day got better after that, because it was time for me long waited rose petal milk bath.
You know what after the 45 minutes of hell, the milk bath did miracles. I walk out that spa with a swagger and feeling energized, sanitized and virginized as if I was re-hymenated. I think I would definitely come back here again for the heavenly milk bath but not the hellish massage. My days in Bangalore are almost up and I am moving towards my last stop - Mumbai to see the world’s largest brothel.

No, it's not sperm from 1,000 Indian guys, it's milk (nectar of the breast)

Update: I guess I have to postpone my move to Mumbai because I hurt my fucking neck while doing bench pressing while checking out a slightly overweight chic working out in the hotel gym. I could hardly move my neck now, so I will be recuperating until I am able to move my fucking neck. For now, being addicted to the Milk N’ Roses bath, I bought myself a bottle of milk bath but didn’t trouble myself with the rose petal.

Yayys!

23/6 At the Hotel Gym

22/6 Curry Lobster

21/6 Luncheon with Olivia from Sg

18/6 In a bookstore, looking for Iris Chang's book

17/6 Wacthing Angels and Demons

17/6 I got my wings

xniquet's journey across India

xniquet and the Queen of Sheba

In my iPod: Break Away - Staind
[download]
State of mind: Blank
Location: Bangalore, India

There she was, sitting at the lobby again. Unbeknownst to her that I had my eyes set on her for days now; well, almost I guess. I mean who wouldn't notice her when you are living in a city surrounded by curry reek locals and the way too often beer swelling white tourist floating around your hotel. Her race was an eye sore to me not because I am against little yellow skin people, but I was one of her kind.

I first saw her in the lobby a couple of days ago; she was making a phone call. I guess she didn’t notice me. But I sure hell noticed her not because it was an encounter of the third kind but it was an encounter of my kind after almost 2 months in this curry malodor Reich.

Our second encounter was when I was already in the lift and I saw her coming towards it; trying not to be so aware of her presence , I was going for the “Oh I didn’t notice you coming in the lift, by the way, where are you from” approach. So I tilt my head upwards and try not to make any eye contact, at least not until she was in the lift, just so that I can give her sufficient time to notice me first and then when she couldn’t stop staring at yours truly, I would turn on my full charm and come in for my killer introduction. But I guess I waited too long, when I look down, she wasn’t there anymore.

So this is the third day in a row and the third time that I am seeing her in the lobby and I have to admit that my curiosity is slowing eating me up like cancer. I really gotta know where she is from and what the fuck is she doing here? So I gathered up my balls and walked up to her and around her couch where she was sitting and then pretended to make a phone call before picking up a newspaper from the counter and sat on a seat that was like 10 meters from her as I pretended to indulge myself in today's news for about five minutes, only to find that it was in Tamil (as you fucking kidding me); So I took the newspaper back to the counter again and walk by her couch 2 times before, going up to her. Yes it was all necessary ,just so I don’t look that needy.

My introduction wasn’t planned or rehearsed, so it just came out bluntly. I told her, most of the time I only walk up and introduced myself to sweet and charming ladies, but for her I was going to make an exception. Suddenly I realized what I just said came out so wrong but she immediately laughed. I don’t know whether she understood what I have just said or maybe she was just taking it as a joke, but that was how I met Olivia of Singapore, who was on a short trip to visit a friend. I told her my side of the story that I was a backpacker *slash* vagabond traveling aimlessly across India with no plans, no directions and no sense of what I am gonna do next and she went like.. “Yeah right and I am the Queen of Sheba. How can it be that a backpacker covers so little of India in such a long period of time?” Well, it just occurred to me that she might be just right...

Then I found out that this was going to be her last day here, so I pushed my luck a little (Okie, for a guy like me I admit a lot) by asking her out for dinner but was shot down immediate not because I looked like a serial killer or a pervert but she already have a prior arrangement for the night. But lunch and a little Sari hunting for souvenir afterward is all she could offer me.

And so that was how you found us merrily having luncheon in a small Chaat restaurant just down the streets at BD road.

On our way to get sari