Wednesday, 31 July 2013


What do I want? I just wrote to William that I thought it best to let him go. His boyfriend was away on a short holiday. A good opportunity to spend nights together, I said. I waited in high anticipation for those precious nights. But nothing came. William, as an excuse sent me messages with some of those annoyingly cute characters speaking on his behalf. One was sleeping, another was coping with the heat when another one was blushing... I was disappointed but not surprised. And I had been thinking about it for some time already. My first attempt a few months ago at distancing myself from him did not come from nowhere.
Nearly one in the morning. I typed the words slowly. Not believing that I was doing it. The  relationship was pushing both of us toward an uncomfortable (and hopeless) situation. The recent crisis with his boyfriend must have resulted in him being more cautious now. I wanted to ask him how many other guys he was seeing beside me... Lately, I had been more and more sensitive to my solitude. Maybe age, maybe the fact that I live in a foreign country, not knowing the language, far away from friends and family...

James A. told me today about personality types. He likes to do research and read about self development. According to the Keirsey Temperament Sorter, James said, I was an 'artisan promoter / composer'. That type of people are usually very good at selling themselves and their ideas and are constantly testing and challenging beyond their limits in order to grow as a individual. They don't usually follow rules and pursue activities that offer joy and pleasure. They are also easily bored when their field of action constrains them. to So true...
"When I heard him talk, I really thought it was such an accurate description of yourself!" James said.
Type or not type, I find myself wondering if I really know what I want when it comes to love. Many friends were surprised that I would accept to be the other man in a love triangle. You deserve better! They say. Let him go! Others say.
Another thing I read about the artisan promoter is that they want their lover to be a playmate (not a bunny one) someone who can be a partner and enjoy the pleasures and excitement they themselves seek.
On one of the many social networks I happen to use, somebody was asking me: "What are you looking for?", certainly expecting me to come up with a physical description of the ideal super mate. I usually reply: "Someone who surprises me".

So goodbye William. It's hard to let go of someone I love, you know...

Listen to
Love Profusion

A cover of a Madonna song from her disregarded American Life. I wanted to do an reinterpretation of the song that would showcase her strong sense of melody and the melancholic undertone.
I did the cover in April, with (of course) William in mind... 

Sunday, 28 July 2013

To the Sun

At eight o'clock we finished shooting the last scene from the music video of the song To the Sun. Zed and I shot for three days. The first day involved some extra: Austin and Jin played the two bad boys who run after me on the street, push me in a dark alley and beat me up before stealing my bag and my money. 
Jin also provided the wonderful makeup for my bruised face. So real did it look that people looked at me with concern as I passed them on the street.

Directing this video - and working with Zed who does a wonderful job with the cinematography, is pushing me to develop more projects in the visual field.
I have millions of ideas for new videos and yes, perhaps a short film. (I don't even dare to think of a long feature) This brings me back to my teenage time when I wanted to be a film director... An attempt at entering the prestigious cinema school la FEMIS, an endeavour which sank in the deep blue sea after my mother inadvertently opened a letter she thought was coming from the film school but was actually a newsletter from a gay student group where I was volunteering!
Then there was this trip to California - Hollywood, to be precise. I stayed with my cousin Eliane who was an aspiring young actress, met some people from 'the industry', had a blast in San Francisco before returning to Paris and realising that music was indeed the direction I was to follow.
And now, it's coming back! Zed amusingly pointed out that my way of working was very close to the Dogma. No budget, lots of improvisation, no star... But it's the digital age. It would be hard (an impossibly costly) to shoot with a film camera!

To the Sun is now in the can. Nearly... The editing is yet to be done. Zed is totally unavailable for a whole month, so I have to find someone else to help me. Or learn to do it myself, as I did so many times in my life.

Listen to:
To the Sun (feat. T.i.n.)


Sunday, 21 July 2013

My raging hormones

Sunday. My raging hormones (again). I decided to go to the bathhouse. Many times, I think that I'd rather spend the money buying a CD. But today I felt I could and should treat myself differently. Over the rainbow (the bathhouse is named Rainbow...) I had seen a Japanese film where twenty guys were crammed in a small cabin enjoying each others. I didn't want that experience in particular, but the image stuck to my mind.
I arrived fairly late. It was already nine past in the evening. 'Naked Night' it was for today. The place wasn't very crowded. "No need to have hundreds of people, what matters is to find the one." I thought. 
There was a few blokes whose physique I found attractive. But no one who would have caused a commotion. I was shyly followed by a few as I would go from the shower room, to the lounge area then upstairs to the screening room and the maze. Thus went the merry-go-round. Silly as it is, I like that ritual. Just like a psychological foreplay, even if, compared to the traditional courtship, it is reduced to its barest minimum - in all senses of the word. But the traditional courtship has also been taking the dust with all these social networks. No need now, to display any skill at socialising, the smart phone does it for you and makes you dumb in the process!
I was standing in the pitch dark room. It would be so much better had they placed some very dim lights here and there so one can feel the shape of the bodies drifting by, and navigate more comfortably in the area.
The only way is to know who's going in and stay close to him. There was this guy who didn't look too bad. Not the most amazing feature, but some yearning eyes and a fabulous bum.
We made out in the dark room but soon, nameless hands were doing a manoeuvring ballet around us, compelling us to leave. My partner (I didn't get to know his name) grabbed a blanket and we went to a booth. That's when things stop exciting me and dangerously verge toward the un-sexy. The booths usually have this acrid smell which kills all erotic tension. I would not even dare to touch the pillows or the blankets either.
The guy was very directive. Obviously his wish was to give me a good time, and he was good at it. It's not so frequent to meet someone who knows how. Maybe more particularly in my experience, so eager I am, usually, to please my partner... So I let him journeying over and through my body with great delight.
If he didn't have the preferred perfect athletic bodies that are displayed in magazines, some of his features were quite irresistible, especially his bubble ass cheeks. Firm and round... I couldn't help reaching out for them. However, for somebody who was so anxious to please his partner, I was surprised to see no physical evidence of any enjoyment from him.
"Erm, I have had sex three times during the day already" he said apologetically
I was impressed. Youths really do have lots of stamina!
We then went to the screening room where some boring over-the-top American blue movie was being played and we made ourselves comfortable on one of the worn out sofas. Men of all types were coming and going around us. Young, twinks, muscular, fat and old. One elderly Caucasian was there, but I wonder if he found anybody. He was overweight and the sight of him wasn't particularly appealing. Some men stood nearby to have a look as I was displaying (to my surprise) an ongoing erection. Others sat behind to observe without being seen. I noticed a guy leaning against a wall then settling on the sofa in front of us. He had a lean and ripped body and I found out he was actually very good looking when he would take his glasses off.
My companion obviously didn't want to part with me. It was getting too late for the last train but he was still following me, unable to let go. I tried to gently make him understand that it may be time to go back since he had to get up early the next day - 6 o' clock, he had told me.
He stayed a while longer, getting more and more emotional by the minute.
"If I had a boyfriend like you, I would be soooo happy" he said, whilst touching my chest as we were lounging on the sofa. I could not say much to that.
We sat on the bench near the counter, he fully dressed, me stark naked. He kept sighing more and more heavily, looking up as if addressing  some invisible divinity. I know he wished me to ask for his number so to meet again. But much as our encounter was pleasurable, I had not such wish and such display of emotionality seemed out of place. Already, I was thinking about this other man who had sat on sofa in front of us.
Once my companion had left the bath house, I dashed to the first floor. Alas! The sexy man was no longer on the sofa. I walked around, hoping to see his figure come out of the obscurity. And indeed he did. I followed him, trying to make my move none too obvious. If he had caught sight of me, I couldn't tell. He merely acknowledged me as one of the passing silhouettes.
He walked down to the shower area. I did the same. How to pretend one needs a shower when it's at least the sixth time??? He went into the steam room. What was I to do? Come close and make my intentions extremely clear to him? A couple of other men stepped in. I couldn't see anything, so I reached for the exit. He came out shortly after sporting a handsome hard on and made his way to the shower. I couldn't resign myself to approach him in such an aggressive manner. After a while, he walked into another big room, formerly a cinema room now turned into an open dormitory where homeless people for the night would sleep
- given that no one else disturbs their slumber.
My guy walked to the end of the room where he found two king size beds. He lied down on one of them. "Enough!" I told myself. "It's time to take action". Fighting my shyness, he took the other bed and lied there for a while. He didn't move. Was he trying to sleep?
I sat up and extended my arms toward him. As my fingers reached his chest, he felt no resistance from him.I stroked his body for a while before a couple of other men came near and stopped, watching us. One of them, a short, stocky type, sat on the other side of my guy and compelled him to touch his dick. I was aroused and also surprised to see that he showed no resistance to the other man either. Was he on for group sex? I didn't mind that either. But hours of being played on by my first companion had nearly driven me to a point of no return. I felt ready to explode. I tried to calm myself down, my senses at the same time being gradually stimulated again as my guy, now surrounded by three other men responded at last to my contact. His hand grabbed mine. My face came closer to his and soon we were kissing passionately. The stocky guy, forced himself between us, commanding each in turn to service him. I still didn't quite know what my guy wanted. Obviously, I was the one he preferred out of everyone. Soon, two of the men went on with their own business and there was me my guy and the stocky one. I was beginning to feel annoyed by him and pushed him away. But he didn't seem to understand the signal and kept coming back. One can learn a lot aobut oneself in a sexual situation. Strangely, that's when all our subconscious materialises. The partner becomes a mirror. There was a distinct pleasure to see my guy being willingly compelled to service this stocky man.
We couldn't keep on on that bed. My guy suggested to go upstair and find a cabin. There was none left, since at this late hour, they were used as mini hotel room.
We ended up in an another open area, only separated from the corridor by a curtain, hoping no one would think to find us there. Wishful thinking! When the other men just contended themselves in being voyeurs, our stocky man came back in action, now more aroused as my guy was getting inside me. Had he been more gentle, I may have welcomed him to join, but his ruthlessness and brutal behaviour were a total turn off to me.
I truly enjoyed being possessed by my guy. He was decisive but attentive in his gestures. I only enjoy being a bottom when these two qualities are met.
"I saw you some time ago already" my guy told afterward. "But I thought that you were too good for me, so I didn't dare to come to you". Such words always surprise me especially when I'm also the one who thinks that way.
We were happy our paths finally crossed. We gladly exchanged numbers. He couldn't speak very good English, but that didn't matter. I was looking forward to seeing him again. This carefree attitude of his in a crowded situation attracted me
"I don't mind group sex, but I don't mind having you exclusively for myself either!" he said.  
His name: Terry, or Xiao Sue.

Listen to:
Don't Be Koi

I wrote this song in 2010, a few months before leaving for Taipei. I often half-jokingly tell my friends that there are two main drives in my life: creativity and sex. And I believe both are very similar. So I wrote a song about it, making a stab at Tom Waits' Temptation as well as Andrew Marvell's famous poem to the coy mistress.

Friday, 19 July 2013

One night

"Can I come and sleep at your place tonight?"
I was surprised. Apart from two nights at his m/other's place in Keelung, we seldom spend nights together. Boyfriend oblige. William had cancelled our appointments a few times because of his m/other who demanded more and time and care from him.
He arrived around midnight. 
"I had a fight with my boyfriend". William confided.
"Where is he now?"
"He's out with his friends, probably at a KTV, drinking. 
"I suppose I shouldn't ask about the reason..."
"Yes. You... He thought we weren't seeing each other anymore so he got angry... and scared when he learned that we still did."
"Did that happen already in the past?" 
"Yes in Kaohsiung, when I wanted to visit my ex-boyfriend."
"Of course he was jealous...."
"How did you two get to decide to have an open relationship? Does he know about the people you see? And do you know what he does on his side...? Do you ever talk about that?"
"No. We decided that after the story with this boyfriend in Kaohsiung. We were at the army..."
"I see... Maybe you should be more open about that. Not hide... That's why he's scared."
It was the first time William would talk about his intimate life. I avoided asking any question. But curiosity did pique me at times although I respected his privacy.
"You can't spend your whole life handling what people want from you. It's time you think about what you want for yourself..."
William remained silent. He was aware of all of that. What did I expect... I had not much hope that he would announce he would leave his current life and build something new for himself, with me in the picture.  Would I be able to keep on seeing once every other week? I knew he was trying his best, but at time he would be crushed by all the demands. And I didn't want to demand anything. If there was a choice to be made, it had to come from within.
But how happy I was to see him lying next to me. He tried to initiate sex and we played a little before I put him to sleep. Poor guy had to wake up at 6am the next day and it was nearly 1am past...
As soon as we kept still, William fell asleep. 
And I was content.

Tuesday, 16 July 2013


If I'm honest with myself, I would concede that, yes, contrary to what I usually claim, I appreciate friend's kind words and gestures of kindness. 
So today was my birthday. Most of the day was spent replying to what amounted to 215 messages. I was touched that so many people made the effort to pen a few words, nevertheless finding the situation of staying home to reply to messages on Facebook to be a tad pathetic. There wasn't to be any birthday surprise like there was last year. Nicolas now no longer a friend, it was unlikely anyone else would make the effort to organise anything. I went to the gym and bought myself a CD. As I would do on any other day...
The day was saved by a card by Sandra which, by some impossible miracle, arrived in Taipei on exactly the right date (Sandra must have a deal with the French Post office) and by HongYi who, at 9pm, showed up with a delicious chocolate cake. HongYi and I share the same birthday. We had to do something. I had prepared a couple of gifts for him: an album by Max Richter and a John Berger's Ways of Seeing. 

We took a few pictures, exchanged a few kisses - when love is away, a kiss makes the day!
One hour later, HongYi had to run away to meet his friends who were waiting for him at the KTV. 

Saturday, 13 July 2013


Nicolas was inside when I got back to my flat in Paris. He had not returned the keys and therefore could break in as he pleased. I was furious.  A few days before he had written another one of those farewell letters stating that he was excluding me out of his life. For what strange reason would he come again to my place, let himself in as if nothing had happened, as if he owned me and the place? I was seized by an unpleasant, almost frightening impression that something was not right. If I had always tried to be careful so not to hurt his delicate feelings in the past, be understanding, be forgiving even when he had been particularly nasty and violently insulting, I didn't try this time to contain my scorn. I demanded him to give the keys back and leave on the spot. I had never spoken to him like that in the past and to express myself that freely almost felt ecsatic. He kept silent, showed no sign of remorse, obviously certain that the anger would soon wane away and that we would be the best of friends again. And the cycle would start again until the next bomb letter...
And it struck me. By what kind of magic trick was I in my Parisian flat? Hadn't I moved to Taipei three years ago already? As I realised that, the flat started to change shape and the dream morphed into something else.  

I was confused when I woke up from the dream. It seemed so real. His presence. The house... The end of a friendship isn't too dissimilar to the end of a love story, especially when the friendship has been the intense one I shared with Nicolas. This wasn't the first time. But I have the impression it is the last one. In the eight years that our friendship has spanned, I believe I must have gone through five breaking-ups with him. I must have lost count. The worst one must have been the one where he announced my untimely death. Those letters and the others where he expressed his agony at having such a terrible friend as I. Quite strangely, he would never have the courage to tell me anything face to face, so the news would come as an e-mail, a 'bomb' as I would call them.
But this time, I had to agree with him. I no longer felt the wish nor the strength to try to understand and keep on walking by his side. Being a friend means I am to see the people I love at their best and also at their worst. However, abusing and hurting one's friend in full conscience isn't part of the deal. His presence for two months at my place whilst looking for a flat had been smothering, heavy and ultimately destructive. I blamed it on the stars, I blamed it on the moon, I tried to distance myself from my growing anger by telling myself that Nicolas was finding himself in an uncomfortable spot. I blamed it on my own fragile psychological state, my moodiness and hypersensitivity. Anything to avoid seeing what I had to see.
But eventually I had to face the fact: I could not stand him anymore. I was hardly half-joking with a friend when I told him that being friend with Nicolas was like being in a relationship with the Central Government in China (or the Queen of Heart in Alice in Wonderland). His totalitarian attitude and touchy temperament did not allow much freedom of speech for people around him, a few careless or misplaced words and the person would be banned forever. There was no forgiveness. It's strange though.
The previous times he was staying with me had been joyful and happy. Maybe because the situation was different: he still had a flat then, whether in Paris or Kaohsiung. This past time, the cohabitation was tense and dry, devoid of any fun, especially toward the second half of his stay. This was probably due to the repeated failed attempts at finding his new flat. Wrapped up into himself, all I could see was a stingy, indifferent and downright egotistical person who displayed a lack of compassion for others that genuinely shocked me, more because he claims to be an englightened person, and therefore had me expect to see more signs of wisdom from him. Or were my ideas about wisdom a bit cliché...?
I don't want that to be the last thing I remember of Nicolas, even if that's part of who he is. I understand where he needs to go. I'm just concerned that this road he's taking will be a cruelly solitary one.
But there's not a thing I can do.
I love him. But I have moved on. As he said it himself in his last letter: "I'm deserting you". The battle is no longer worth fighting.

Nicolas with a little frog he found on the street

Listen to:

A song I wrote back in 1998, even before I had started writing song for myself. The composition of the song was motivated by a text that Michèle Atlani, the French popstress I was working with at the time, gave me. Her lyrics were about someone who leaves during a winter night. I cannot recall very precisely.
Then I decided to keep the song for myself and began to pen lyrics about the last night of a criminal who recalls times of yore, when he was still innocent and doing things for the very first time.
The song went through many transformations, was performed live at concerts and only found its final stage now. 

Friday, 5 July 2013

A little bit of Paradise

Time with William is rare, so I cherish every second I have with him. We had settled to meet today and spend the afternoon together. I had just had a case of food poisoning at a Japanese restaurant (bad shrimp tempura - or tempura getting their second life...) which resulted in fever and a fairly whimsical stomach as I was watching Jacques Doillon's last opus with my friend Shang Hsin, a tiresome film where an angry girl and a verbose man joust verbally, get naked, wrestle physically, make love in a way that you don't want to touch anyone for weeks, endlessly, on and on ad nauseam, as they are known to do in so many French films...  I didn't stand more than half of the film and left.
Food poisoning mean no sex with William! Not even kissing. Sharing would not be caring in this case! William has to take care of his mother who was suffering depression. She had to be taken in and out of the hospital regularly. But I got confused. Wasn't his mother in Kaohsiung? Did it mean he had to go South every day after work? It takes an hour and half with the high speed train, but still... Wouldn't that be draining?
"No! My mother is healthy"! William laughed. "It's my 'other' mother, my Taipei mother!"
That lady had taken him under her wing and he devotes lots of time to her, taking her to church, to the hotspring, on week ends. Between that and his friends and his boyfriend, there was little time left for us.
"What shall we do today?" William asked me.
I had no idea. Since sex was out of the picture, I suggested we went somewhere out of town. River, mountain, beach... We got to his car which had been fixed at the garage and drove to a flower market where I bought a few new plants. Then we headed to that spot where the two rivers join before reaching the sea, on the border of a bird park where I sat to watch egrets and ibises flying in the sunset. Going to the river and walking aimlessly was one of the first things William and I enjoyed doing at the beginning of our relationship. There was a sense of uncertainty and limitless possibility then. For a couple of hours, we forgot about the dead end of our situation, and just enjoyed each other's company, surrounded by the beauty of nature at its sunset's best.
Indeed joy and happiness find their true meaning when one has known sorrow and unhappiness. Both are unfortunately strongly bound to another. Moments of bliss can erase all the hardship - temporarily. But how precious they are.
I didn't think of any future with William. I was just feeling good. Now.