Siblings

My brother had a BBQ party last night by the swimming pool. There were many different kinds of booze, ranging from Pear Vodka to limited addition Vodka to Scotch to Beer to Chivas to Baileys and you name it, we have it. No I'm not trying to sell, I suck as a business man.

It was weird to see my brother as red as his own communist party shirt (Literally Communist party; Mao zhi tong etc partying with party hats on his shirt.). He stank the common toilet which everyone in this house has to use (besides my parents) by puking his guts out into the toilet bowl. Even the air freshener could not save the smell. But other than that, his party was a success, to me that is. But not to him. He had an ulterior motive which clearly did not work in the end, I pity him, but still it was a blast. There was too much food, too much liquor and basically too much thus the left overs and the need to Cook about 20 chicken wings today which I did not eat. Zul, G, Harry Mary, Izz and Twat came to entertain me. I had a blast with them and Zul's "tomato baby" (it's his invisible Fat red tummy.). Zul was high by the first half an hour so was G. They left for Home cunt in the end and I spent the rest of the night with Buttons (Freds dog), Fred and Twat.
It was fun playing Black Jack and walking Buttons (the cutest dog alive. She's about half a metre long? or smaller, with short curly hair and she's 3 years old.) in the middle of the night.

The dog was really weird, we brought her to a grass patch to piss which she kept running off (she hates grass) and instead Sat-yes literally sat on the road and took a long piss with her bum on the rough surface. No there was not lifting of the leg or anything like that. She looked like a kid who had wet his pants by accident with such an innocent face of "Whoops".

Today, I spent my day with Ann and Twat. We did some last minute shopping (i.e: going to Topshop to buy pretty underwear for people.). Met Steph for a while then headed to my sisters awesome place.
Her place is so chilled out, pretty big, with 2 bookshelves packed with books and 2 shelves of DVDs. She lives big and now I can finally understand why she's able to paint in the living room. Her room mate is currently out of town, so we had the whole house to talk, drink wine, eat her veggie basil pesto based pasta with a slice of smoked ham, eat rum and raisin and strawberry ice-cream and basically Chill.

I got to look at her paintings which are incredibly beautiful. The greatness in her painting is not about Techniques or anything like that but about the feeling. It doesn't look very fantastic on her blog because it's not exactly a 30 by 30 canvas-size-big.
Her brush strokes, the use of colours, the abnormal smooth lines that forms a human, all of which amounts to real art. Art which will cause you to feel how she felt at that moment. The cooling sensation the blue gave off as it came close to the white and the heat the red bold strokes gave were extremely captivating. You must see them and then you will understand what I mean. I can stand there and look at them for hours if I was not distracted. They're big paintings and what I loved about them is that she did not go according to the whole "realism" shit. Art is art, if you're able to convey a feeling or express something that's able to touch someone.
It is upsetting to know that I've lost the feeling for now that is. Maybe I have been trained to draw things as it is, As it is meaning its physical appearance that everyone else sees. Where's the meaning in that?

I've found sketching a great way to relieve stress and good for practice. But I never actually understood extremely realistic sketches, maybe it's because I'm not good at it, but then again, I only can't understand them if the artist is not good at it (meaning they draw for the sake of drawing, for the sake of practice( in a non-enjoyable way) and not because that particular person/object means something to them. Practice must come with feeling, without it, it won't be ecstatically pleasing.) I only managed to understand the pieces which held some sort of an emotion, in the eyes, or whatever. Maybe I'm too much of a critique but I've realised how much I may have lost the zest to paint however I want to.
I worry too much about the outcome at times and don't give faith for fear of disappointment. Much of a coward, maybe. Don't exactly think I care, because I'm lazy and that's disgusting.

I need to get my life straight, my sister is an eye opener and come to think of it, she's much like Adria. A "Do-er" and not a "follower". I'll get my fat ass off once I'm done.

On a lighter note, this post is extremely long (just a random comment. Hurz.) and I'm really going to HK soon.
(this part has been deleted due to technical difficulties)
I saw the girlie at starbucks I met the other week today, how weird.

Anyway, plans to exercise has failed, time to throw away my gross table and switch it with a big ol cupboard to store my art shit and books.