Board / Mind : Games

Well well well, my kittens. Do you remember me yapping on about a certain Serpiente? The bar tender I dated who was both very attractive and talented and brewing this and that. He'd left to the US after the inevitable boredom of my brain.
I'm in California right now, where he happens to be.
Almost a year later and I find that the bitter resentment has faded into a dull past, in favor of a new regard that admits amiability. I am glad of it, for I feel as though the saga of crud that was romance has come to an end with Zoo (who is neither a twig nor evil, sometimes this is still confusing to my friends).
But I feel as though the erratic and flippant disposition of before has caused adventures with minor harm, and major regret. Regret not of my actions, but of the cause of the actions, which brings us right back around to disposition.
I regret my regard for my past conquests being so very little, they fluttered between being less than nothing to more than everything according to nothing but the boredom of thought. Now I feel as though compensation must be made, in some respect. I see two lots of these people of mine, one which screwed me over and gave me an arsehole personality, and one which suffered for the actions of the first.
All of this happening when I was very young. Now with Zoo, I feel no need to push and pull and prove time and time again. It is much more simple, one of simple respect and affection. Something which I had not happened across when in search of continual infatuate passion. One of my findings on this search was Serpiente. Who may be driving up to see me.
I can only remember devotion, happiness, contentedness and then boredom.
I must fly my kittens, comics await.

Love and Freindship.

Jhonnie Cat

Baby, You Can Drive My Car.

Hello my kittens,
Well I promised an update soon with regards to the whole hello-fellow-hell-and-jello situation. If you have been reading my blog from when it was a mere foetus of a web journal, worming its wee fingers out into the world through (if not a soggy hole) than atleast a brain and a mac --- than you will know that I went though a fine number of bumblers.
There was Chup, who now parades his pretty face with even more vehemence than before, although now it is rather well known that there is nothing behind that pretty face but dust and the occasional termite feces. There was Serpiente, Ankle and others, all of which have given me the collective award of Medllion De La Maneater. However, it may interest the more slutty of my readers (love yah) to know that I've had a fellow for my own for a while now. But before you conclude him as another disposable spleen, hear me out my kittens.
If you've read the infatuated crap I manage to churn out at the start of every new relationship, at least in 2008 (oh to be slightly younger, and slightly more evil) you'll know that on average the affection lasts as long as... well something else lasts. However I find myself of late become steadily more and more decent, having been dating a certain someone for six months or so.
And no one I've heard of can "last" six months, unless they put their poor little one to work in the fields with different kinds of oxen, to learn the ways of stamina from the creature that bears the load without question. Unless they have put their peck to fend for the merest morsel of food in the nomadic wilderness, ever searching for the appeasement of desire, but never deficient in will to strive onwards. Unless they have put their johnny to toil forth in the earnest and humble rice patties, learning that patients and endurance, not to mention recision is the way to ultimately draw satisfaction.
Even then, I'm not sure how much i'd like a peen that had been a nomad, a rice patty and an ox.
Then again who knows, maybe it would generate a sort of x-men style stamina.
In any case, this fellow, Zoo, does not compare in terms of experience to those veterans of the past, whose clock work oranges ran out and hung loose with skill (although I grew bored of pretty much all of them). Zoo is a different variety.
For one thing, he is lacking in that certain spark of artistry, musing and general gaping arkse -hole demeanor. Due to this lack, he is not as intent as those in my past at squeezing the freaking life out of me for inspiration. I think he is more concerned with the squeezing of my amazing and perfectly crafted hiney, truth be told. Hey, some have fallen for the mind, the charm or the harm, some have decided on liking the 'tude which was born from too many nerve endings getting on my nerves and ending. I guess this one just likes the hine.
Hopefully other things too.
But what I adore about this one is that his delight in my happiness is stemmed from the happiness itself, as opposed to the expressed gratitude and 'returns'. But hedonism and vague desire to assimilate with the mentality of intoxication govern the rest, as may be expected. I suppose it is the simplicity itself which causes the fortitude, and not the simplicity of mind (he's not stupid) but that of disposition. The regard held is much less full of crap than previously seen, and the honesty is one I am partial too. And even when he does lie he's terrible at it, and its completely transparent.... so the honesty is not only delightful, but somewhat incidental.
Apparently you don't have to hurt each other in a perpetual cycle of hatred and passion to give a rats arse about someone.

Love,

Jhonnie Cat

Cry Me A Liver

Well, first off I suppose I should offer my apologies for it being so long since I last updated. It doesn't mean I will offer my apologies, it just means that I realize I should. Here we go.
If you have been reading this number for a while, you will no doubt be aware of the way in which I treated the general male population. One of the other models I work with puts it very concisely (as she too adheres to these rules) :
'use them, abuse them, and loose them.' ... This illustrates the general boredom that is felt within about nine days into a relationship.
Cute.

It has been an eventful two weeks, one crammed with lots of pretentious people all wearing shoes that are more attractive than most faces. I find there is a delight to be had in many of these people, as once you submerge yourselves amongst them, you feel as if you've grown some rights. The right to hold a champagne glass. The right to glance at someone's outfit and lift a quiveringly disdainful nostril. The right to think of a race as trendy. The right to insult people and tell them it is constructive criticism. The right to sweep the streets before you with exaggerated mascara and prod the peasants who dare cross your path (this path should be littered with jackets thrown down by lesser men).
I do this anyway, but if you are surrounded by these tightly buttocked men and women it seems more like a natural course of behavior.

I've recently done a few shows that have given me some things to mull over, not so much food for thought - as I'm fairly certain that food is seen as basically illegal at these events. At least judging by the chopstick wives and tai-tai lives.
One of them was over in a shiny hotel in Tsim Sha Tsui, the interior of which reminds me of sticking my head inside the silver surfer and swishing it around for a bit. Basically it was gooey and metallic. And may or may not have super-powers.
Bluey, the agent who casts me for most of these, made her usual witty remarks on the place while prodding us to hurry up. I did the show with Collar, who is probably one of the most attractive people I know. After we removed some of the slop painted on our faces, after the shindig itself, we headed to Kashbah and Dragon-I.
One of the fellows that took us to d-i has the first table and ordered champagne that was on fire. I took a photo which is now the background on my phone.
Its to remind me to be rich one day.

The week after this Collar and I did a show in the convention center, along with Spy. Spy is a lovely girl, who was very exited about her paycheck. Endearing stuff. I feel sorry for Collar and Spy, though, because their first outfit involved large false shiny things that poked them most uncomfortably. I was lucky, and ended up in a sequined thing that made my species questionable. I looked something like an ork that had decided to desert the red eye of mordor and seek out a life as a thai transvestite. The garment exposed my midrif, which is better than a side riff or bottom riff. Or even an ostinato, if I have any music nerd in the crowd tonight
*dum dum chhhh*
The second garbberment was essentially a kinky sailor outfit with bizarre shorts. There is such a thing as high-waisted, which I can understand. But these shorts looked like they wanted to escape to my lungs, and hide there stealing away my oxygen until I was dead. I can only assume that once I was dead, these shorts would steal away into the night, brandishing their dangerous waistline at other un-suspecting people. Beware of pants.

After an epic battle in the hair and makeup room, I bested these foul shorts, I had a bit of a frodo moment throwing them far from me where they will never live to cause harm to mankind again. I kept all my fingers though. I have small hands. They must be good for the egos of the men I date.

After this little escapade, I headed on over to wanchai with Collar and Spy. In trafalgar, we yapped and relaxed. Across the street was the dull light coming from that pit of vulgarity, Carnegies. s of bingo-wings and cheap perfumed armpits danced out onto the street from that vile hole. I wrote a previous entry regarding Carnegies and how shall I hate thee, shall I count the ways?

As for personal gossip, because you care so much, I shall pen up an entry soon.
Love in the time of Oliver's,

Jhonnie Cat.

PS. if you want to find that entry before when I was talking about Carnegies - word search 'Serpiente' for that is who I was dating at the time. photo reference, for those of you who have me on fb.