Gabriel

On the first night in Bintan, the princess and I decided to bring in that bottle of whiskey and box of ciggarettes into our room. The nightcap turned out to be a full blown drinking and smoking session which ended only at 5 when we realised the bottle was nearly gone. (Spent the whole of next mornig playing with our breakfast and sipping our coffee before crashing by the poolside at another resort nearby)

We dragged the iPod and her speakers in, and alternated between a quietness so somber to deranged hysterics when we heard the likes of Rick Astley, Bananarama and whats his name who sang Smoke Gets In Your Eyes. Talk about losing the plot.

It was in between those magical hours that her iPod shuffled this song, and I think it was the mood and feel of the occassion that I finally appreciated the beauty of it.

You should listen to it at night. You should smoke up. You should have a glass of Mccallan on the rocks. You should get real high before you can fly to this one.

This is my new entry into my late night incendiary music. Lamb meets Live, Buckley, Portishead, Bjork and many more.

Enjoy. :)

Love Reign O'er Me

Heaven, big up da manna.

Now bring me back down slowly.

:)

High and dry

I am on a...err work retreat. We spent days arguing and deciding between the Banyan Tree or this one, and since I'm not a particular fan of nice romantic couply places we decided to head somewhere else.

There's not much difference between Indra Maya or Banyan Tree. Just that the former looks more like a high class chalet with the ticky tacky paintjob and silly paintings of fishes. We've got a private pool, outdoor jacuzzi, hall big enough to engage in a badminton game & frisbee with the boss and a kitchen where we cooked and dined the lovely night away.

But I have other designs. Getting banged on the kitchen counter top, missionary on the living room couch, spread eagled on the dining table, porn star living on the sun deck by the pool, innocently facing the seafront while getting boned from the back. Doggy on the outdoor jacuzzi and skinny dipping in the pool.

And of course pristine clean bedsheets to stain. I'm not a morning person, but if I could wake up to getting spooned every morning while facing the south china sea hey I am not complaining.

All I can ever ever think about is sex sex sex. I wish they can come up with a diet pill equivalent to curb my sexual appetite. Or wait, is there such a thing already?

I am too horny to do pretty much anything else here. Maybe I should go back to my book, but Jane Austen is wrong literature. Just wrong.

Pitter Patter Goes My Heart

One full cycle later. You rang.