Questa Primavera

Crooning on my STEREO: Pledging My Love by JOHNNY ACE

During one of my carefree days in St. Petersburg, I taunted a generic statue of Cupid to his face. I said, "You are a selfish prick. How many more times do you intend to wank me?" The museum guards chased me out. Nah, kidding. Cupid gave me a Russo-passive smirk which insitgated my desire to hack his pretty face. No, no. I have to give credit to anger management.

Fast forward a few months. And if you may recall, I wrote an extremely emo post sometime back in December 2006. And yes, I displayed my vulnerability. And I exploded my sob story to the world that all the men I was involved with were either pissers, bastards or the type of assholes that are featured in Cleo's Annual Eligible Bastards.

Well, Cupid's wanking came to a halt. Through an intense chapter of meeting a significant other, I have found strength in life through love.



Love is a strong entity. And unconditional. My mother once told me that a long distance relationship is a test of maturity. The test is even greater when he is, let's say, your first love.

This Spring is one of the most beautiful. After a series of exhaustive work travels to Bangkok and Cannes in the past few weeks, I detoured and returned to Perugia. My incentive came in the form of four days.

And I found myself attempting to freeze time.

The whole process became sublimely sad, but devastatingly beautiful. I recall leaving Nice with a schoolgirl's grin, to sharing a kiss with him on opposite walkalators in Fiumicino. Then there was the train ride where he pointed out Cinecitta to me; a place that is incredibly close to my heart and dreams.

From then on, everything was perfect. It was so perfect.

But, like your typical Korean soap, a happy duo had to part. That dreadful feeling is familiar, i was overwhelmed by the same fleet of thoughts as the time when I had to leave home for a few semi-unproductive years in Britain.

I miss him. I miss being with him. I never knew that Nuotando Nell'aria can be the song that can shatter my fragile soul. Reason being; he had whispered the lyrics into my ears the night before I left.


Cupid has thrown me into an Orpheus-inspired labyrinth of questions. Why am I stressing over the pending deal of a nonsensical TV programme? Who gives a damn if your fax had not reached your supplier in time? Why do you even bother with friends who backstab and those leaches who lick the arses of society?

I took some time off in Bali. Everything was nice. But I longed to smile the way I did when I was with him a few weeks ago.



But life has always been good to me.

Passera

Crooning on my STEREO: Come Primavera by IL DIVO

Stupidly enough, I seem to be suffering from consecutive attacks of various withdrawal syndromes. First, it was the post-Italy depression. And now... I'm suffering from a number of post-Il Divo fits. I am wondering why my optimistic start to 2007 is plagued by such life threatening emo attacks. It's like the curse of the daily PMS.

Nah, kidding. Blame it on the humid climate. At least I've been honing some constructive skills during the last 10 days.


You see, I've been stalking Il Divo. From Velvet to Bar Savanh and back to Velvet. I forgot to include the number of times (and hours) I've loitered at Shangrila. Funny how nobody chased me out unlike the last time I stalked Mika Hakkinen in Pan Pacific.

Sad, I know.


And I've met Carlos at least 4 times during their week in KL. So much so that he had to acknowledge me with a rather horrified 'oh-my-god-its-you-again!' smile while on stage.


January 16th was downright special because I spent the previous 3 months on blood, sweat and tears to obtain a front row seat for the concert. With all that close proximity, my saliva glands had been bruised. I was drooling chronically.

As one of the rare few who actually PAID for their tickets, I have to declare my bankruptcy to the world.


But I made some fantastic friends (or what they call Il Divo fanatics- 'Divas') who are as obssessed as I am. We were the starstruck lot who would run around in prom dresses screaming 'I love Il Divo!!' and terrorising posh women in the ballroom.


I "met" (or had some sort of the slightest contact) with the man of my dreams for the grand total of 4 times.

The first time I was screaming into his ear half drunk in an immensely crowded nightclub. I apparently kissed him on the cheek. As for the second time, I sized him up at Shangrila when he couldn't remember my name.

The third time was when I summoned every god-given courage I had just to hand him a rose on stage. We are talking about an audience of 3000 people of all species. (1/3 of whom recognised my tacky blonde highlights thereafter.)

Thing is, I didn't do what fans usually do; (ie. kiss your idol on the cheek, rape him there and then or to embrace him like a god.)

Instead I did this:-

I walked up to him in the manner of a zombie.
He then flashed his divine smile at me.
I froze.
I chucked the rose at him.
And ran for my life.

And only God knows why I did that.

I am such a cow.


I had to post this same picture twice. Simply because this final photo with him (as I was chasing him out of the ballroom) was a consolation to my rudeness on stage.

Oh boy, you only live once.

I finally met the man who had been reigning my bedroom wall.
I am 23 and I should stop lusting over boybands.

HELP

Crooning on my STEREO: Over the Rainbow by IL DIVO

THAT'S IT. I am addicted to IL DIVO like a drug.

Beats marijuana anytime.

90 hours have passed and I still have them on Loop.

I NEED HELP

If you are sick of my I-love-Sebastien blabber, do check this awesome blog Brighter Death for a breath of fresh, rejuvenating air.

I am off to HONG KONG next week. After that I will post the long awaited encore SPANISH CHRONICLES before I retire from the blogosphere in 2006.

"Someday I wish upon a star and wake up where clouds are far behind me....'

Bewitched.

Crooning on my STEREO: Ti Amero by IL DIVO

60 hours have passed since I bought IL DIVO's debut album, and I am STILL listening to them on loop.

Can't get enough of those guys.

'Crying is refuge for plain women. Pretty women go shopping!'-Oscar Wilde's Lady Windermere's Fan.
It really sucks to window shop.

But it is okay to play Oliver Twist every now and then.

(Special announcement: EYERIS embarked on a charitable deed by including me in his special Malaysian bloggers' 2006 Calendar!!!. Now, this is a guy with a heart of GOLD!) I'm a calendar girl... wooohoooooooooo!!!

WHY IL DIVO is THERAPEUTIC. Part ONE.

Crooning on my STEREO: Passera by IL DIVO

Today I am going to defend my lust for IL DIVO.


1) When I am feeling aboslutely SORRY for myself. When I have a crap hair day. When I go for vocal training and I can't hit the high E note. When I fail a casting audition because I forgot a required costume. When some stupid juvenile kid down the street laughs at my chubby thighs....

Why IL DIVO helps...
THEY SHOW ME LOVE.. Well, not literally.
Listen to their first album and close your eyes. Visualise a group of 4 gorgeous Armani clad men serenading you with a blissful combination of tenor and baritone voices in European dialects.
Listen to track 5- Everytime I Look At You.

Sebastien (pic below) is GODSENT. I'd give away all my handbags just to have him SERENADE ME.
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2) My favourite pair of kitten heels were wrecked beyond recognition by none other than PURE HORSE SHIT yesterday. I was so fucking pissed off. I STILL AM. It is as though I just chucked 49ringgit down the drain. (translate: 15 Euros down the gutter). That's a fucking hell lot of money to an unemployed fart like me.

Today I live PAINFULLY with the fact that I DO NOT have a pair of NEW SHOES to flaunt during Christmas and New Year. How miserable.

Why IL DIVO helps...
Simple. Blasting their divine voices on maximum volume makes me CRY in the state of ecstasy. And by CRYING you release tension. And then you get TIRED. And then you SLEEP. And forget about your HORSE SHIT MISFORTUNE.

Just for the time being.
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3) Since graduating, I feel absolutely unemployed, skint and hopeless. Something to the lines of being a beggar. Under a roof.

Why IL DIVO helps...
THEY SHOW YOU LOVE. Again. Listen to 'A Mi Manera' which is the remake of Frank's I DID IT MY WAY. (Now don't take the piss, I know its not original material but at least they do sing it well....)
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4) My casting agents are pissing me off. They are not getting me enough auditions.

Why IL DIVO helps...
All four dudes of the band had to go through Satan's auditions under the watchful eyes of SIMON COWELL. Now, go and tell me how much SHIT they have to go through to get a place in the band....... thats besides the point. It only takes ONE AUDITION to make a difference.
So patience is virtue.
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5) This sucks. I thought I have grown out of my boyband fetish years. I think I am bored.

Why IL DIVO helps...
Falling in love with a certain gentleman who sings under the fancy category of vox populi proves that IL DIVO IS NOT A BOYBAND.Fancying a celebrity gives you something to do in your free time. Por ejemplo, staying up till four every night running a search on GOOGLE on whether he is married improves your analytical skills.

So I am not as useless as I think I am.
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6) I did miss out on *ahem* a dude who resembles Sebastien from IL DIVO. I am kicking myself everyday because of that. I am such a COW.

Why IL DIVO helps...
Its okay. At least I can brag that I snogged a celebrity look-a-like.


TELL ME, HOW CAN YOU RESIST THIS???

Fuck, I can't.

Stupid Cow

Crooning on my STEREO: El Universo Sobre Mi by AMARAL

I was browsing through a shallow magazine yesterday when I spotted a rather familiar face. Much to my horror.



Let's see. I do recall picking up a random dude in Malaga who LOOKED EXACTLY like the dude above. And this dude claimed that he was Argentinian. And this dude SPOKE SPANISH IN A BIZARRE FRENCH ACCENT. Damnnit. This dude even had a sexy voice.

Point is, WHY DIDN'T I FOLLOW HIM HOME THAT NIGHT ?!?


As a result Lyn is in constant pain.