Shanghai Vixen

Sitting at a Cantonese teahouse, working away, waiting for Yellow Concept to finish her meeting so we can do an interview for my column. /have drinks and complain about men. I am at this teahouse because the cafes on nearby Nanjing Dong are no longer open. They are - were - the lovely and historic Donghai and Deda, Shanghai-style Western restaurants opened in the 1930s. Donghai was especially lovely, unchanged for several decades and still a popular neighborhood destination. The signs in their windows say "closed for rennovation" but in contemporary China "rennovation" is a euphemism for demolition. As I was informed after I inquired at a nearby shop selling Deda's signature cakes. Sad. I hope the Art Deco edifices that contained them will also not be thus "rennovated". But, who am I kidding? The skanky Shangkies - ethnic Shanghainese Hongkongers - will be "rennovating" all of us into oblivion in pursuit of profits as fast and dirty as a ye ji. Standing in Adidas' offices on the 37th floor of Ganghui, awaiting an interview this afternoon, I looked out over southern Shanghai, and could spot the GaoWan Xiaoqu, my lane, even my house - low rises now archaic in the forest of fugly highrises. Soon to be gone as well. This city is the only real home I have ever had, but will I still want to stay when everything I love about the place is gone? Rather like my relationship with Jifu - which I stayed in long after he had ceased to be the person I had fallen in love with. Have been drinking again; I find that my willpower is limited, and if I expend it all not drinking, eating very little, and exercising a lot, I cannot get any work done. The point of not drinking for a while, apart from retraining my habits and to lose weight, was to be more productive writing-wise. So far that has proven counter-productive. Bleh. But, back to good-girlness tomorrow...until the holidays that is. The film that prompted my rant last night was "Knocked Up" - which I couldn't finish. The whole premise, the attitudes and values it embraces and promotes, were too offensive for me to stomach. I may do a separate post elaborating why, but right now I still am squirming from the squick of it.

"So one day, I walk in on him masturbating."

 

So, one night I watch a foreign - American - film that shames masturbation.

 

But: only male masturbation.

 

Seriously, are American women like this? Do they mind if their male partners wank? Really? To me, a man who wanks is sexually interested and inspired. While I may hope to be on the receiving end much of the time, I should hope he has a lively imagination, and I should hope that he is not using my body to vent that imagination, I should hope that he has and takes the sexual space to go at his own pace. And I should hope he respects the same for me.

 

I love to masturbate. I will go weeks without it, but there are days when I have a good four goes. There is nothing like a good 3pm wank followed by a half hour power nap to stimulate (sorry) the creative juices. Nothing nicer to wake up to, and nothing better to fall asleep to.

 

I waxy religious about two things: One is exercise. Two is masturbation. Okay, okay, music and languages too...three and four. But, less preachy there. I think people should wank without apologies. 1. It is fun. 2. It is safe sex. 3. It lets one explore a richness of sexual and social fantasy that one never would in real life. Real life sex is beauty, messy, juicy, often awkward, never perfect but sometimes so better than perfect. As Ah Ren put it, it is "something humans do". That line may be the most I remember him for.

 

Few women masturbate. Or at least admit it. We are so discouraged, and lack the subvert encouragement men receive. When did you last see a crack about women's under-mattress porn stash?

 

Let us call masturbation personalized sexuality. I cherish my with-partner sexuality, it encapsulates the core of my emotional life, and many a great orgasm. There are many things I can only do with a partner in pleasantness. But there are also many things I can only do alone. Continuing the above, 4. Pace. The logistics of partner sex requires a great deal of timing. When wanking, you come when and at the rhythm you desire.

 

Women should wank more. I would be the last person to say I own my sexuality. Too much childhood fundi christian baggage for that! But wanking is wonderful. It saddens me how few of my gal pals know how to masturbate, that it takes the misinformation/advertorial a la sex and the city for most of us to brave and buy little friends

 

I discovered my personal sexuality not so much from the BMW-driving hunky half-Arab as from the blocked out channels on my grandparents' cable in highschool, combined with the lovely contours of couch and crotch. I have been a happier woman since. I love toys, but I just need my underwear.

 
There is much I can scapegoat; but sexual frustration has never been my demon.

Ha. Awesome:

KFC offers Chinese youtiao

Snow continues to cascade over Shanghai, a rare phenomenon especially given that it has lasted for three days, and today it is cold enough that some of it is sticking. The GaoWan Xiaoqu is quite white, and this time it's not the smog of pollution providing the monochrome. There is a community of pigeons and sparrows in my lane: the family accross the way keeps a lot of caged birds, and much of the seed from his 2F balcony falls to the roof below. A handful of wild birds have now taken up residence there, and today about six pigeons and four sparrows are huddled up pathetically as the snow piles upon them.

It is thus a good day to stay in and work, huddled over the heater in my womb-like bedroom with computer and cat vying for lap space. I don't know whether it's the weather or the lingering illness that has my body insisting upon sleeping ten hours per night, but that plus an overly active weekend has me much in need of a few quiet days on the ketchup.

Friday was a delightful afternoon spent interviewing author and historian Lynn Pan about her new book on Shanghainese design heritage. Cool, funny, knowledgeable, Pan is always fascinating to chat with. I consider myself quite lucky in my life and work, that I get to be friends with some of my favorite authors. That evening was a dinner party at the home of wacky honkey [Diamond Ho]; these events are always enjoyable but very strange and calculated affairs. I took Cloudy as my "date" this time, she was entertained and shared my assessment of the whole scene. We are both friends with plenty of people who are famous for actually doing stuff, and so someone like Diamond who is "famous" because she has a rich daddy and has hired an army of PR agents is rather underwhelming. At dinner, I sat with a museum director, who recruited me to co-curate a show with Taipei Trixie. This could turn out fun, although no doubt also a massive headache.

I rejoined Cloudy on Saturday. She and her chef boyfriend have been consulting for new restaurants, and recruited me to train the bartenders at their newest. I went over that afternoon, and we redid the drink list, some from my cocktail book, others improvised and expirimented. I had tippled the night before at dinner - those events require it - and then again at cocktail class. We had quite a lot of trial drinks to finish off between the three of us and the bartender, and all got quite loopy. Next time, I'll have to bring Kazza along as the booze disposal. I tried to teach Cloudy how to tie cherry stems in knots with her tongue - I find it so easy - but it evaded her. Then I headed to the opening of a photography show at MoCA, and since I'd already been drinking I had some wine there too. Not much, though, and after learning some new Shanghainese terms from a few strange, scruffy artists, I headed home early. And Sunday was quiet, my only outing being to Brilly's lecture, and back to the dourness of being the only person in the room not drinking.

So, Ah Ren is back. I gathered he was from a spike of activity on what Mr. Kaoru calls Crackbook, so I knew he'd probably surface at MoCA. I've spent the past month trying to purge him from my system, boy detox, but just seeing him online made my heart flitter and twitter. Dammit, Vixen. Seeing him Saturday night, more and worse of the same. I'm not sure if the earlier cocktail tasting made it better, or worse. We had a few nice chats, punctuated by his leaving whenever the scruffy artists accosted me, and his apologizing after that he can't deal with those weirdos. Which, fair enough. Then he fled very suddenly when Gallery Girl showed up, of course she pinned him first, and watching that body language accross the room was fascinating: her being very aggressively forward and flirty, Ah Ren crossing his arms and leaning back as he does when uncomfortable, but also being very superficially polite. I really wonder what the story is there, but doubt either will ever tell me - and if they did, they would probably tell very, very different stories! Hmm.

When I got home, I sent him a - I hope - nice but neutral email saying it was nice to have him back, that I missed him, and joking about the Shanghainese phrases from the scruffy artists. I wonder if it was too much? I know he doesn't "like" me that way, and I know he knows I do like him that way, but we are friends so that is the dominant narrative. I don't want to be another Gallery Girl, throwing myself at him, embarassing myself and annoying him. I enjoy having a crush on him, crushes are fun dammit, even though I know it will never pan out. Whether it is because I am too fat, too white, too weird, because he wants to leave China or doesn't want to date within the social/work crowd - who knows? It doesn't matter. While crushing is fun, I need to get over it, and the best way to do so is to find a new crush.

Gym Boy is still around, hot sex on autodial, should I want it. I haven't seen him since before I started hanging out with Ah Ren, and now I am only temped to fuck Gym Boy to assuage my ego. Which isn't good. Not that Gym Boy minds my using him for sex, oh, not at all. Another problem is that Gym Boy kinda annoys me, so I can only enjoy the hot sex when drunk, which is problematic in a mostly dry spell. Not really sure what to do: I need to formally, finally dump him in person, but we'll probably have break-up/good-bye sex. And part of me does want to keep him around for the physical comforts.

Last November, at a dinner of cooler Shanghainese artists than the guys Saturday, the only young chap in the group kept giving me flirty little looks accross the table. He was cute, although looks a bit like the Boy Toy I dated briefly in college, which is really not my type when it comes to the variations of Chinese features. We chatted, he's the nephew of the artist who's show was opening, we swapped contact info. It was that weird night when a hot young stranger then tried to hit me up on the street, and then a few minutes later Ah Ren called me up suggesting a late dinner. All too much, I went home and hid under my bed. The Artist's Nephew has emailed me a few times, I didn't respond as was crushing on Ah Ren, but now finally has. Probably blown him off for too long for him to still be interested, and I am probably more relieved than anything about that - off the hook! - but we'll see. Sure, give it a try.

Then there's a friend of mine who I need to find out whether he's single or not. He's very cool, kinda shy but once he gets talking we have great blathers. Cute, overaccomplished, creative doing some awesome stuff. On paper, he sounds perfect. Find out his status, then concoct excuses to hang out more and see if there's clickage.

Yeah, I really need a new crush. The one on Ah Ren is getting moldy and unpleasant - he's so last year! And while crushes are abstractly fun, there is an errosive element to rejection.

I am mostly better, although still hacking up conejitos and fairly low on the energy quotient. I had lined up a lot of work while away, and that plus the sick meant I have a crush of deadlines breathing down my neck. First was a cosmetics fair, then a retail profile of a street wear boutique. Nothing particularly complicated, but these still required prep and scheduling and shlepping to interviews and organization and writing, ie a fair amount of time and effort. Which is hard to summon when sick.

But now I am momentarily caught up and can catch my breath and have a think.

I don't make new year's resolutions. They seem silly. What I do is make plans: agenda and priorities and strategies. I am someone who works well with checklists, both mental and actual. I like having targets.

2007 was a good set-up year, I coasted alright, but I didn't accomplish most of the things I wanted to. 2008 is the year when I allow no excuses and get it done.

In 2007, I had "Seven for '07" of things I was prioritizing. They were, in particular order:
1. Articles/work
2. Book
3. Weight
4. Fellowships
5. Finance
6. Relationships
7. Fun
And, work went okay. I made some but not enough headway on the book. I lost four kilos, better than nothing or gaining but still rather sad. I applied for but didn't get the fellowships. I did okay but not great finanacially, and did not do a lot of the things I wanted to. I had some but not a great love/sex life. I had a lot of fun, but I always do.

This year, the first three and last are the same:
1. Work
2. Book
3. Weight
4. Anality
5. Self-promotion
6. Finances

This year I am going to get where I want to be with things. Allow no excuses, make it happen. Be anal. I was like that when I was younger, but in recent years I have waxed too mellow. I am getting back to  being be really hard on myself, and trying to stop dicking around. Making schedules, sticking to them. Not quite no matter what - ie I didn't work through my raging fever or anything - but keep going, keep on track.

Then, I have realized from many encounters and observations that it is not enough to just be good and professional and knowledgeable: I have to suck it up and toot my own horn more. (*Dirty!*) I have to "brand myself". And it does feel dirty, but I have to remember that there are a lot of people getting further than me based on all hype, no substance. It's not unethical to have hype if you also have substance.

Keeping up on work is and must be my top priority, and I need to use my time more efficiently. Keep the old clients, court more, do more articles for more places, build up my bylines.

I will write the book this year. I will finish three sample chapters by March, revamp the proposal, get an agent and a book deal and an advance, and then I will write the rest.

I will continue to exercise almost every day, and step it up, but I have become a stickler for what I eat. Virtually no meat, minimal carbs, ie average of one serving a day. If Monday I have two, Tuesday I have none. Yes, being a low-carb vegetarian is tough, but doable. And keeping to about 1000-1200 calories a day, likewise. I have already dropped two kilos in two weeks this way. A large part of it is just eliminating the mindless eating.

I am also trying to eliminate the mindless drinking. My plan is to drink almost never until March/my sample chapters are done. I am having a tiny serving of soju tonight to celebrate being caught up, but it is my first in two weeks. I will allow the occasional tipple, as with meat; I dislike absolute rules. But, general avoidance.

It hasn't been easy, Shanghai is a drinking town. Schmoozing without booze is like anal sex without lube. Painful. Without that crutch, I feel quite blasted back to high school, when I was so cripplingly shy, my brain too active to allow my to interact casually.

Yet the mental clarity is delicious. My motivation for going mostly dry for a period is a mixture of productivity and health. I want to be at peak performance, working efficiently, getting my assignments and my book done. And I have eleven kilos still to lose, and keeping under 1200 calories a day is a hell of a lot easier when I'm not drinking 400 of those.

Ultimately, I like alcohol: I like its taste, its effects. But I dislike my reliance upon it, and my occasional abuse of it. I do not want to be a future ex-alcoholic, or, worse, a perpetual alcoholic. In Shanghai, you go to an event, you have a drink pressed into your hand, you're bored so you drink it. And then another, and then another. The mindlessness of it, and the dependence as social lubricant, is what presents the problem. In my beat, it is easy to consume a lot of free booze on a daily basis.

Art is a lot less interesting without alcohol. As are art people. But, as I get used to it, I will I think start to find things all the more stimulating, in more ingeniously wacky ways. Because, without the sedatives to make it shut up, this brain of mine can get into overdrive.

Then, with fun and relationships, I don't find that prioritizing those gets me anywhere. Reading, drawing, photography, languages, travel, history...the things I enjoy I will do regardless of whether I plan to. Friendships are always important to me, and romance, well, being proactive about it gets me nowhere. (Although I really do need to email that one guy...) Getting my life where I want it, my body in shape, will get me a lot further than abstracting that I want a boyfriend this year.

So, here is a very small serving of maple soju to toast to 2008: it will be an awesome year.

...when you are reminded that you "need a man". Ie, when your power blows late at night and you have no idea how to fix it.

Jifu used to handle this problem, and it never occurred to him to teach me. Or, to be fair, for me to learn. It is actually very simple, and tomorrow I will get the materials to fix it myself next time.

Landlord nicely got out of bed to come fix it, all better now after mucha fussa.

I know women who feel more feminine for being helpless and rescueable. I just feel like a damn nuisance.