Fridae

活着，已经很累了，就少些无谓的小剧场吧。

xTwitterに、やたらと中国からのGVが流れてくる。

それらのアカウントから、日本物や台湾物も流れてくる。

そこで気になったことをいくつか。

日本物の方が、顔が端正なモデルが多い。

中国物の方が、そこまで万人が見てイケメンと思いはしないような、フツーの顔のモデルが出てくる。（そこが良い）

また、日本や、洋物だとあまりメインにならない細いタチさんとかが結構いる。それも特殊な趣味物としてではなく、普通にいる。

あと、中国物の方が、本気でメイクラブしている感が強い。本当に気持ちよさそう。

日本の方は、相手はいるけど、協力して自慰してる感がある。よがっていても、演技している感がある。

それから、中国物では、やたらと潮を吹く。（笑）

Before we start treating school names like IQ scores, let us establish one basic distinction:

Educational prestige can open doors. It does not certify intelligence.

Apparently, attending a prestigious school now comes with an invisible certificate that says:

“Congratulations. You are officially intelligent.”

Really? 🤯

Getting into a top school proves that, at some point, you were academically capable enough to get in. That is an achievement. It is not a personality transplant.

It does not automatically come with superior reasoning, common sense, emotional intelligence, social awareness, good judgment, wisdom, or the ability to hold a sensible conversation without sounding like a malfunctioning textbook.

Some people are exceptionally good at studying. They memorise well, score well, understand examination techniques and know how to produce the answer an examiner wants.

Wonderful.

But intelligence is more complicated than the logo on your old school uniform.

Can you think critically?

Can you change your mind when evidence proves you wrong?

Can you understand perspectives other than your own?

Can you admit when you do not know something?

Can you make sound decisions outside an examination hall?

Because if your academic pedigree needs to be reintroduced every time you enter a conversation, perhaps it is doing rather too much of the talking.

The same applies to corporate status. Holding a respectable position inside a prestigious organisation may mean you were qualified, hardworking, well-connected, fortunate or simply a good fit for that particular system.

It does not automatically make you more intelligent than the person beside you.

Most of us are still working within an organisation, under a management structure, following policies, targets and someone else’s system. There is nothing shameful about that. It is simply reality.

So perhaps the school badge and company name do not make one the intellectual royalty one imagines. 😂

If your strongest argument for your intelligence is still:

“But I was from a top school…”

I have some unfortunate news.

Your school badge is not a brain scan.

And a famous employer is not a certificate of wisdom.

People often rank human beings as though intelligence were a league table:

“This one is more intelligent.”

“That one is less intelligent.”

Based on what exactly?

PSLE score?

University ranking?

Vocabulary?

Job title?

A school ranking is not a human ranking.

A job title is not an IQ score.

Intelligence comes in many forms — analytical ability, creativity, emotional intelligence, practical judgment, adaptability, curiosity, problem-solving and the ability to learn.

A brilliant academic can make spectacularly stupid life decisions. Someone who was completely average in school can become exceptionally perceptive, capable and wise.

Education gives you knowledge and tools.

A prestigious organisation may give you status and opportunity.

Neither automatically gives you wisdom, judgment or intellectual superiority.

So yes, be proud of your prestigious school. Frame the certificate. Polish the trophy. Sing the school song if you must.

Just do not confuse educational pedigree with intelligence, or corporate status with superiority.

They are not the same thing.

And intelligence probably begins with being intelligent enough to know that. 🤯

When the protector stayed after it has passed its usefulness, it was the one to be protected from.

一如往常

今天的戲院裡

除了我一個人

還有另外四個人

也和我一樣

獨自一人看著電影

.................

一個人

看電影

吃飯

逛街

旅行……

不知從什麼時候開始

「一個人」

似乎不再是一種孤單

而成了

我們生活中

的一種方式

也許

這已經不只是

個人的選擇

而是一種

正在慢慢形成的

生活趨勢.......

🚶🚶🚗🚗

To be able to feel and give love is truly an enjoyable and meaningful thing. It feels like a beautiful stalk of flower blooming beautifully inside your heart. It's even more beautiful when it remains the same for many years. That feeling is personal, it is yours and it definitely matters. Not everyone is capable of it.

Acknowledge the feeling, even if others can't. Respect it, even if others can't. Cherish it, even if others can't.

Loving someone is not you being "too much", it's that you are just "all-in"; it is not you being "too sensitive", you are "soft in a hard world" and not that you are being "too serious", it's you "being real". Those who chooses you will learn how to see and understand you. Cherishing your efforts more than criticism towards it.

Enjoying simple dating with you at home - simple meal, reading whatever, watching whatever drama/movie, simple chat, being in each other's arms. 

Attached. Not on the prowl. I repeat: NOT FOR ME. 😂

Apparently I’ve somehow been appointed unofficial wingwoman for my femme friend, who has reached the stage of asking:

“Where on earth do I even find a girlfriend?”

So here I am. 😂

I’m looking out for a 40-ish woman who might be open to getting to know a lovely femme friend of mine.

No promises of romance, no matchmaking auntie guarantees and definitely no exchanging of biodata. 😂 Just creating an opportunity for two people to meet, have a conversation and see if there’s any chemistry.

Ideally someone around her 40s, genuine, emotionally mature, independent, has her own life and is actually available for a relationship if the right person comes along.

And before anyone gets confused:

I am attached.

I am not available.

I am not fishing for myself. 😂

I’m merely the kaypoh wingwoman who decided that waiting for Cupid to do his job is taking far too long.

If you think you might fit the bill — or you know someone who does — say hello.

Worst case? Two people make a new friend.

Best case?

I’ll be taking full credit at the wedding. 😂

I'm a gay single man who has never been married. I'm looking for my soulmate for a committed, long-term relationship. I take life very seriously. I'm looking for my life partner, soulmate, friend, and best lover. I like to surround myself with people who have fun, laugh a lot, and aren't constantly in a bad mood. I love to smile, I'm lovable, intelligent, responsible, romantic, cheerful, and generous. I don't smoke, but I rarely drink alcohol. I'm looking for a serious and hopefully lasting relationship with an intelligent, cheerful, loving, generous, honest, and polite man. A man who cherishes every moment we share, respects me, and with whom I can share joy, sorrow, and happiness.

Note:

I am not a paying member here, so I can only send two messages a day. If you’d like to know more about me, please leave your Google Chat or email address so we can communicate more easily and share more pictures.

It's been a week of very hot weather, with today (Friday) likely to be the hottest of the present heatwave (35C). Our forecasters have decided that we're still in the Amber alert zone, so they must be counting on a breeze from the coast making it a bit more bearable.

I'm counting myself lucky that we're not in the London zone of red alerts (which has already had two days of such warnings).

Last night the forecast was for 22C, but with the environmental conditions making it feel like 27C. Luckily the bedroom faces north, so with a large fan on all night I get a complete night's rest.

Tomorrow's likely to be the last of the hot days - for now - before we get back to more normal conditions, This morning I'm feeling a slight breeze between the front and back of the apartment, and with the fan on, life is quite pleasant. 

How is the weather in your home?

 “All is excruciating pain. I breathe fire and torment. I birth a world of suffering, to mire and plague. In one fleeting moment, lives come and go, ever moving towards the unknown. And in that fleeting moment, they cry for the answer to the question: Why, given life, are they meant to suffer. To die... As fragmented, imperfect beings, yours is a never-ending quest. A quest to find your purpose, knowing your end is assured. To find the strength to continue, when all strength has left you. To find joy, even as darkness descends... And amidst deepest despair, light everlasting.” ― Venat 

18 Oct 2025

Yesterday marked 49 days since my beloved sister left us. Her didi and I went to pray for her, and we packed her clothes and shoes to donate to the Salvation Army. It was such a harsh reality to face — folding each piece, still carrying her familiar scent, brought an ache I can't put into words.

It’s still hard to accept that she’s really gone. Forever.

I don’t know how our 70-year-old mom is holding up so well. Maybe she’s stronger than I can imagine, or maybe she’s just hiding it deep inside. Losing her only daughter at just 38… no parent should ever have to face that.

I’ve been avoiding looking at her photos. Every time I do, tears fall before I can even stop them. It’s such a painful contradiction — I hate how fast she left us, how sudden it all was… yet all I want is for her to be happy, pain-free, and at peace, wherever she is now.

Jie… how are you?

I still catch myself staring at our old WhatsApp chats, the ones where we used to update each other on life, laugh at silly things, share everything. That last message on the day you left — it’s like time stopped there. No more “online.” No more “typing.” Just silence.

I just hope you're no longer suffering in the next world. You are so loved, so missed, and forever in our hearts

15 June 2026 17:30 pm Monday (Sunny)

I have read what people wrote on their blogs. I watched many movies about love. Then I came to a conclusion.

Never get involved with a married guy, because he will never care about how you feel. He has his wife and children to fall back on. But you are all alone.

Never get involved with a bisexual guy, for he can screw other women if you leave him. He wouldn't care how you feel, because he has wider span of people to choose from. But you are still alone and searching.

Never get involved with a guy who is attached to someone. I you leave him, he still has the other half to fall back on. But you, still alone grieving.

Life is too short. Don't waste your time. Don't let selfish people make use of you. Don't grief if these selfish people leave you, they are not worthy.

Treat yourself better. You should know better than getting involved with selfish people. Be good to yourself. Don't hurt yourself over these unworthy people.

Love, but with care for yourself. 

PS: In memory of someone I knew who ended his life because of love.

They do not believe the gay fingers, keep hunting from one app to the other. 

Bloody Mary I am not,

Catherine the Great or so you thought.

Incur my wrath by my own wrought,

Alas alas, I am just a dot.

Twinkle twinkle not a dot,

Jewel of the Nile casts in God's written plot.

Antony Caesar for her they fought,

"How fun!" She thought, "If they knew my memory loss.".

(Dedication to familiar stranger on 25 Feb 2025.)

The Woman at the Junction

Every time Moby’s Everloving plays, she is there again, standing at the junction in the dry blazing heat, holding newspapers under the American sun.

The car pulled away from Newark into the late morning of 13 July 2003. My first time in America. I had crossed an ocean to find her — the woman I loved — and the city was waiting somewhere ahead, enormous and indifferent.

The road was vast. No other cars. Just the asphalt baked to a chalky, dust-grey, stretching forward under a sky of cloudless blue. It was a fierce summer, and with no cloud to break it, the sun came down whole. The heat was dry — not the wet heat I knew — and it pressed down without apology, clean and absolute. I was feverish myself by then, though whether from the sun or from everything still ahead of me, I could not have said.

Then the junction.

There, she was standing at the side of the road. A Black woman, mid-thirties perhaps. Braided hair. A worn checkered shirt and trousers. Around her neck, hung by a strap, a small usherette tray — the kind that asks you to come to it, that cannot go to you. It held newspapers. She held it. 

Her arms carried the tray. Her eyes gave nothing away — no appeal, no exhaustion, no performance of dignity. Just a gaze aimed somewhere ahead of her, or perhaps nowhere at all. Stoic. Expressionless. Still.

No cars stopped. No one was near. Under that indifferent sun, she simply stood. 

The car moved past her. 

I turned. 

I kept looking — through the rear window, through the dissolving distance — as she grew smaller, smaller. The tray around her neck. The braided hair. The stillness that was not resignation but something harder to name. Something closer to will. A will that had arrived at the junction every day, that would arrive again tomorrow, that believed — or had no choice but to act as if it believed — that standing was enough.

And yet there was a wall. Invisible, complete. She could not see it. Perhaps she had stopped looking for its edges long ago. The wall did not take her dignity. It simply made forward impossible.

The car drove on. She became a point. Then nothing. 

I turned back to face the road ahead — to the skyline, to the reunion, to everything that had brought me across that ocean.

But I have never stopped looking back.

一个中国老头想吃外国白人大鸡巴

一个中国老头想吃外国白人大鸡巴

喜欢被大鸡巴草。喜欢吃大鸡巴。口活好

有没有在营口工作的老外？