HYPERACTIVE WITH GALLERY MANAGER, TANYA BENNETT (LOVE HER TOP; MAKES ME WANNA BE A SPIDER IN MY NEXT LIFE.)
One of the things I love about living in Sheung Wan is its proximity to cool places that have cool people inside them, who do cool things. On the one end you've got Natalie Leung and the achingly hip SQUARE STREET design collective; on the other end there's Max Poelnitz and the hobolicious PoHo Bazaar hippies.
I was on my way home tonight when I saw henna tattoo artist, Sara Mush, waving excitedly at me from inside Cat Street Gallery.
"Thanks for voting," Sara enthused, "I won The Big Henna Contest!!!" The competition was organized by California-based Siren Song Productions as part of a campaign for the 203 Henna Intensive & Retreat in Wrightwood.
"AWESOME!!!" I gushed back. Sara works her butt off, promoting henna art in Hong Kong. She networks like crazy, seems to be at every event I attend, and is a tireless promoter on social media. A nu-age henna warrior princess!
There were a couple of girls hovering over Sara, so I thought I'd give them a chance to jump in - when I thought I saw one of the sculptures move... I moved closer - and I saw, it was a waif, painted completely in gold. All that gilded gold-ness instantly brought back visions of the Prometheus sculpture at Rockefeller Center, but this one is trompe l'oeil personified - literally!!! I mean, it's a person - a waif! My mind was reeling every which way as I stared aghast at the girl... What if she needed to pee?
"Work started on her at 11am," a leggy brunette behind me shared. "And we have just finished." It was 7pm.
"James," I thrust my right hand out. "I wouldn't have had the patience to sit for as long as she did. I'd die of boredom. Did you do her?"
"Tanya," she shook my hand. "No, I didn't do her; she did," Tanya gestured to a woman surrounded by well-wishers. "I manage the gallery."
"Wow," I whistled, "I just gotta have a photo..."
I was as fascinated with the work of art as I was with the gallery manager who, with her gorgeous curls and open visage, looked like a Botticelli.
EMMA HACK TROMPE L'OEIL
August 29 - September 22
Cat Street Gallery
222 Hollywood Road
Hong Kong
I'm in the process of updating the Mr Gay HK media kit for 2013-2014. It's mostly tedious - re-looking at numbers, lay-out, new success stories, trends to watch out for, etc, etc - all in the name of grabbing potential brand partners by the balls and shaking them from side-to-side, until they relent and sign over precious sponsorship dollars for me to see my pet project through another year.
2013 is Mr Gay HK, Year 5.
I'm having a bit of a moment, reminiscing about what has been the past four years. How stories were created, how they were shaped, where I found fertile ground to plant the seeds of a campaign, and then watch it grow and intensify...
I used to enjoy this. I was really good at it, too. It's incredible, looking back at what you've done and realizing that you've accomplished some super-fucking-human feats. If I had met myself five years ago, I would have said:
Holy shit, princess - where'd you find time to get all of these done, plus manage a social persona, maintain friendships and a meaningful relationship with Chris, keep in constant touch with family, do drag, and blog??!
I was of course a lot more persistent when I was younger. These days, I wouldn't deem waste anybody's time. I'd move on as soon as I hear a No, because, I tell myself, it's not the end of the world. There are other things in life which will be a Yes, and they're just straight ahead, so keep on walking! But looking back at what I've been able to accomplish, armed with nothing more than youth and persistence and naivete, I'd say: You fucking wore people out with your enthusiasm, until they just said Yes so you would go away! I would have liked to be friends with that guy - that penniless, Hyperactive gay boy. He made things happen without knowing, fully, how he made them happen. He simply jumped into the deep end - and he'd ask questions later. But only if he absolutely had to. He was self sufficient and independent and driven and bullheaded and positive.
He was happy and energetic. He was free. Sometimes we need to force ourselves to look back, to inspire ourselves in the present, for what we need to get done tomorrow. That's just what happened to me.
POST-SCRIPT
Looking back on it, pondering, writing about it and congratulating yourself isn't enough. Pause for a moment and thank the universe for always making sure you see the redemption after every conflict she throws at you. -Ryeness
FAT BIRD MADE FROM HANDBLOWN GLASS.
I WANTED TO TAKE IT HOME.
AND THAT OH-SO-CLASSIC IITTALA CANDLE HOLDER, TOO.
NAPKINS ROLLED AND SECURED WITH A FINDS RIBBON!
HOW PRETTY ARE THESE PLATES, SERIOUSLY?
THAT'S ME - HYPERACTIVE!
MENU + ILLUSTRATED MAP OF SCANDINAVIA WITH 'PIN DROPS' ON PLACES WHERE DISHES ON THE NORDIC EXPRESS MENU ORIGINATED.
THIN RYE CRISPS SERVED ON A BRANCH OF A BIRCH TREE -
BECAUSE WHY NOT?
OH!
BREADS IN A BOX!
TWO KINDS OF BUTTER: REGULAR AND SMOKED (?!).
THESE BALLS HAD A COOL, FLUFFY, AND ALMOST MOUSSE-LIKE TEXTURE.
OH, THOSE CRISPS.
NOW, THEY'RE ON MY PLATE!
'LIFE OF ARCTIC CHAR' -
FROM ROE TO CRISPY SKIN!
SEXY SMORREBROD
TOPPED WITH GOLDEN VENDACE ROE ON SMOKED EEL.
KINDA REMINDS ME OF THE BIRTH OF VENUS BY BOTTICELLI.
MORE DANISH GOODNESS, ALL IN A ROW -
INCLUDING A PORK RILLETTE DISH THAT THE PRINCESS OF DENMARK APPARENTLY HAD THREE PORTIONS OF WHEN SHE WAS OVER AT FINDS FOR A MEAL.
BY THIS POINT, I HAD STOPPED TO CARE ABOUT THE DISHES' NAMES.
I WAS TOO BUSY ENJOYING THE PARTY IN MY MOUTH.
I DO REMEMBER, THOUGH, THAT EACH MORSEL OF PATE WAS TOPPED WITH ROWANBERRY JELLY THAT JAAKKO AND HIS MOM MADE WITH THEIR OWN HANDS.
MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB;
JAMESIE HAD A LITTLE BITE.
AND I WANTED TO TAKE THAT WOODEN SERVING BOARD HOME WITH ME.
JUNIPER-SMOKED QUAIL-EGG YOLK ?!?!?!??!!
MY BRAIN WAS STILL IN OVERDRIVE,
WONDERING WHAT KIND OF EXPERIENCES IT TAKES TO ADVANCE ONE'S PALATE TOWARDS DREAMING UP SUCH FLAVOUR COMBINATIONS, COOKING TECHNIQUES AND FUCK-OFF FABULOUS PRESENTATION.
OH YEAH - THIS WAS A SOUP. I HAD ALMOST FORGOTTEN.
BROTH IS MADE WITH WILD CHANTERELLES,
FINISHED OFF WITH A FLUFFY CLOUD OPF CHILLED POTATO CREME.
THAT GLACIER-INSPIRED SOUP BOWL WAS SO PRETTY, TOO,
CAN YOU GUESS WHAT I DESPERATELY WANTED TO DO WITH IT?
TAKE . IT . HOME.
MACKEREL FISH BALLS SERVED ON HOT STONES.
BEER IS POURED OVER SUPER-HOT STONES -
CREATING A SIZZLING, AROMATIC BROTH THAT QUICKLY BATHES THE BALLS AND COOKS 'EM.
IT'S A SHOW.
HELLOOO THERE,
CHILLED, LITTLE CRAYFISH.
I'M ABOUT TO EAT YOU NOW!
OH.
I'M MEANT TO HAVE IT ON A PERFECTLY OVAL PIECE OF TOAST....?
BUT I DON'T DO CARBS.
JAAKKO'S SPIN ON THE HUMBLE 'BEEF RYDBERG' -
VENISON RYDBERG!
THOSE VENISON TENDERLOIN MEDALLIONS WERE SO PEFECTLY COOKED,
I SWOONED WITH EACH MOUTHFUL. THE FLESH HAD AN ALMOST VELVETY TEXTURE.
DELICIOUS BEYOND BELIEF.
VANILLA SNOWBALLS!
SERVED ON WOODEN SPOONS!
WHICH I ALSO WANTED TO TAKE HOME WITH ME!
WHAT'S A PANCAKE PARTY WITHOUT A SELECTION OF JAMS?
CLOUDBERRY, RASPBERRY, LINGONBERRY, BLUEBERRY JAMES
AND SOME COGNAC CREAM, JUST COZ!
RHUBARB!
I DIDN'T GET TO TAKE HOME ANY OF THE FANCY IITTALA STUFF.
BUT JAAKKO GAVE ME A BAG OF NORDIC CANDIES, INSTEAD!
NO CONTEST - I'LL TAKE CANDY
EVERY . SINGLE . TIME.
Anybody who knows me, knows my appetite - perhaps none better than FINDS' Executive Chef Jaakko Sorsa, himself. Jaakko is a dear friend who has generously fed me on my countless moments of desperate hunger. That's, like, every day. Five times a day. I was FINDS' Marketing & PR Manager over three years. The amount of food I've enjoyed from Jaakko's benevolence would have been enough to feed a small village throughout a season of catastrophic drought. Because of this, the mere sight of Jaakko sends my dopamine levels shooting through the roof. Jaakko's smiling face is a neurotransmitter that tells me I won't simply be eating; I'm going to feast. Therefore, I'm a terrible critic when it comes to Jaakko's food.
I am not a real food critic, either. I'm just a food addict. That's why I got myself a job in a restaurant, in the first place. And so while real crits may pause thoughtfully between mouthfuls to consider taste, texture, portion and presentation, I'm too busy either shoveling entire platefuls down my esophagus or wondering when the next dish is arriving.
That having been said, I have seen how Jaakko's food has evolved and matured to a point where he's serving up complex Northern European dishes as though they were chapters in a whimsical Nordic fairy tale.
"This could have gotten so old, so quickly," I whispered to Adele Wong, HK Mag's dining and lifestyle editor. "I usually think food that requires an introduction - or a set of instructions on how to eat, much less! - is too pretentious for me to eat. I'd rather die from hunger than order a dish whose name I can't pronounce. Just sayin'."
OK, so that last line was a total lie. I'd eat anything. Besides - let's be honest - who knows a lot about Nordic gastronomic tradition, anyway? Not me. And as iconic as FINDS is - its 10th anniversary comes up in spring 2014 - it's not exactly propped up by a cottage industry of Nordic product and service providers that all together help to educate an entire populace. Aside from FINDS, the only other Nordic brands I have relationships with are H&M and Ikea.
Nordic Express is a 12-course magnum opus through Finland, Iceland, Norway, Denmark, Sweden and Lapland. The menu is presented with an illustrated map featuring with a "pin drop" on where dishes on the menu come from. Jaakko then introduces each dish with a story - about the ingredients, about the fishermen, about a country's history and culture - often, personal. The rowanberry jelly that comes with wild game pate was made just 10 days prior to our meal, by Jaakko and his mom.
The food is delicious.
The style - eye-popping, whimsical, fresh, enjoyable, incredible. Nordic topography comes alive on the table, with rocks, branches of birch, moss and herbs so supple, they might as well have been picked from Jaakko's garden mere minutes before they were served.
I've never experienced anything like it before.
I know FINDS intimately; I helped shape (rescue?) it. It has had its moments of identity crises. That tends to happen when a brand starts off with three (!!!) managing directors, a very strong general manager, and a genius in the kitchen. Who prevails, and when?
Nordic Express is the journey we've been waiting for all this time. It has just the one train driver. His name is Jaakko.
It has taken almost a decade to get here.
And it's worth the wait.
FINDS is back.
FINDS
1F The Luxe Manor
39 Kimberley Road
Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon
T +852 2522 9318
E reservations@finds.com.hk
Erica, wife of FOX News' Geraldo Rivera, reacts after seeing her husband's shirtless selfie on Twitter: "This is exactly the kind of thing that happens when I fall asleep first. Thank god we have towels in the bathroom. But I'm proud my husband looks so hot!"
Jackée Harry tweets, "Dear, Geraldo: STOP! Best, Jackée."
Andy Cohen retweets the message later to the news veteran.
Chrissy Teigen comments, "I opened up Geraldo's photo and my neighbor now thinks I have some old man fetish. Thanks!"
Lena Dunham adds her two cents, saying "The oppositional teen in me wants to be like 'Leave Geraldo alone!' But I can't deal with his penis bones."
Rivera finally removes the pic later, but tweets about it: "Note to self: no tweeting after 1am."
Rivera is scary (that face), but his body's great - for any age. Plus points for madd swag, even though we doubt that 70 is, indeed, the new 50. What's the point counting after 50? Might as well start counting backwards! I think 30 is the new 17 - based on my experience, at least. But seeing that nobody cares about being 30 anymore, either, it might as well be the new 70. Are you following this??
I first took a selfie on the floor to share on Facebook how fucking beat up I was after my first training session with Bridge.
But while I was reviewing the pics, I realized that Meryl Streep spoke the truth: "Things look different, lying down!"
Yeah...
I kinda looked... nicer on the floor... Skinnier, more defined. Gravity seems to zap cellulite, ectopic fat deposits and adipose tissue. It was miraculous.
I fucking loved it.
I started taking pics of myself on floor daily, doing random things: Skyping, eating grapes, generally just rubbing dust and dirt onto myself like they were the finest of spa creams.
My friend, Nikka, whom I haven't seen in a long time, posted a comment: "So Bambi, Kristine, Christopher John and I had dinner the other night. We were wondering if you have any furniture, since you're always on the floor. Hahaha."
My sister, Teri, messaged that my Dad was getting disturbed with the suggestion of nudity. My suspicion is, daddy might have made a comment offhand, but it's really my sister who's getting kinda disturbed. Hello! As if we didn't share a room for years!
* LIFETRONS' SUPER SEXY PORTABLE SPEAKERS,
TO BLAST UPLIFTING GOSPEL HOUSE IN HI-DEF STEREO SOUND
* MEDICINE BALL,
FOR POWERED-UP BOOTY PUMPS AND PUSH-UPS
* PARA'KITO WRISTBAND AND CLIP
TO KEEP ME FOCUSED ON GETTING #FITNOTFAT,
NOT ON SCRATCHING MOSQUITO BITES!
I got a truckload of birthday presents this year - THANK YOU. I do love prezzies and can't imagine throwing a birthday party that says "No presents, please." I mean?!? It's fun to give and receive! That's also why I don't believe in people who say they're Top Only or Bottom Only - but let's save that for another blog entry.
This year, I thought I'd give myself a present, too.
I signed up for personal training with my dear friend, Bridge, who also happens to be the 2012 Mr Gay HK 1st Runner-up. I'm tired of being fat, especially when I have to stand for photos in the middle of my Mr Gay HK winners! So I decided to get #fitnotfat.
We have a lot of fun, Bridge and myself. We're both extroverts; outdoor exercise suits us much better. And we werqout later in the evening, since we're both frighteningly busy. We gossip a lot. It's fun having the non-threatening presence (as opposed to predatory 99% of the time) of another gay man, with whom to decompress and just process the day's events. No judgment. Just two, strong, black women - gabbing.
We gab whilst we roll out my IT band - that tough group of fibers that run along the outside of the thigh. We gab whilst doing squats, lunges, chest passes - any exercise that doesn't require me to focus on counting or on some belabored breathing. I'm only ever quiet when I jump rope or do push-ups or burpees (yuck).
Unfortunately, whilst we gab, mosquitoes feast. The mozzies at Sun Yat Sen Park are notoriously huge, bloodthirsty suckers. Half the time, I was either clapping mosquitoes dead or scratching at the big, angry bites. The next day, I came prepared with a bottle of mosquito repelling spray and some ointment to rub on inflamed bites. I did the whole ointment thing all over again after I showered. My body was riddled with spots - battle scars from my war against mosquitos. I went to bed, defeated.
Enter Plug PR to the rescue, with a care package from Para'Kito. The mosquitoes are... nowhere. Don't see them. I've been a happy camper since then because all I have to do to get myself #fitnotfat is get into my werqout clothes. I have my wristband on all-day anyway, and my bag is similarly clipped. I've got a "protective shield" around me.
"It smells nice," Bridge noted.
"Citronella, I think."
"I don't even feel like I stink post-werqout coz I've got this beautiful smell around me."
"Well, that's not an excuse not to wear deodorant..."
"I used to not wear deodorant when I had a desk job and wouldn't need to be out on meetings."
"Really?"
"Yeah... It's tough to find a vegan deo. Most have harmful chemicals."
"In the Philippines, you could get tawas... I don't know what it's called in English... It looks like a rock..."
"A crystal - yeah I've seen it!"
And so forth. We mouth ourselves off for hours and hours. Meanwhile, I'm getting a good werqout in. It might be tough to believe this, coming from bossy, old me - but working on my physical shell is also doing wonders for my soul.
I celebrated my birthday last week, surrounded by the beautiful, amazing people who have made this Hyperactive Hong Kong life so meaningful.
It has been eight years since I first got here.
And I feel like I've only just begun.
DARK CHOCOLATE!
B3: BRUNO, BENJIE & BRIDGE
CHEERS TO #HYPR!
WITH MY BELOVED AD
AT MR GAY HK'S MEDIA MEET & GREET AND SEND-OFF PARTY FOR MR GAY WORLD
(L-R): RYE BAUTISTA, ANNA ADASIEWICZ, EMMA HAMMONDS, #HYPR,
LEGGY MODEL LAURA FROM GERMANY, AND HELENA CHAN OF ASIA'S NEXT TOP MODEL
The last week wasn't just a whirlwind of Hyperactive events; it was an HI (10) Tornado, where Hyperactive Intensity is calculated as follows:
HI = DW / NEo x nSH
(NEo +/+ NEp) A ^ S
That's days of the week (7) divided by number of events organized (2), multiplied by net sleeping hours (5).
The most volatile variable here, of course is NEo, which isn't always indicative of NEp (number of events participated in). In most cases, NEo and NEp are inversely proportional. After all, DW (days of the week) is a constant. The more events you organize, the less time you have to allocate to events you participate in. In my case, however, NEo and NEp are directly proportional - especially since nSH follows the Law of Diminishing Returns. It's only by keeping NEo and NEp parallel on the HI graph am I able to keep producing the amounts of A (adrenaline) required to secure a high S (success) rate.
THE QUEEN'S SILVER
BEFORE HK1K
AN EMPTY OPEN-AIR LOT
DURING HK1K
WITH MODEL HELENA CHAN
AND COLUMNIST YALUN TU IN THE BACK
AFTER HK1K
AFTER-PARTY AT MAGNUM
I organized HK1K, HK Mag's 1,000th issue pop-up "Hong Kong Hipsters" block party, on an empty lot in Fashion Walk. The event required the support of over 20 brand partners, over 100 support staff (technicians, stage managers, gophers, security, chefs, waiters and bartenders, door bitches, interns, photographers... and so on), managed through 5 Google Docs (guest list, contact sheet, rundown, budget, script and show flow), and mobilized via 5 buses, to pull off.
It wasn't perfect, but it was awesome. I think I did awesome...
I'm my own biggest critic. So many things could have gone wrong. But so many things were OK, I'm tearful with gratitude to everyone who had in hand in making it a success. Also, my mom's 9-day novena before the event obviously worked! Thank you Mommy, and thank you God.
KEEP IT MOVIN'!
MANILA
KARE-KARE
HYPERACTIVE AND A BEVY OF BEAUTIFUL AUNTIES
#HYPRFAMOUSFLOORS
THE PENTHOUSE IN THE GREEN LOUNGE
ORTIGAS, MANILA
WITH MY BEAUTEOUS BABY SISTER, LOREN
As if that wasn't enough, I had an 8am flight to Manila immediately following HK1K, for Destination, I Do! - the highly conceptual wedding of my cousin, Mark, to his lady love, Abbey.
Upon my arrival in Manila, my youngest sister, Loren, speed-ironed my barong Tagalog and dress pants whilst I greedily gulped honey lemon water, multivitamins and a whole pot of kare-kare. I knew I had to make an effort to be fit for public consumption. I was hoarse, exhausted and sleepy, which is unfair because my family deserves to have the best of Hyperactive.
The wedding invites were mock passports, the guest cards were baggage tags, the tables' centerpieces were each inspired by a dreamy destination, the cake was a stack of luggages rendered in fondant, and of course, the entire thing was MC'd by Hyperactive. At one point, I had to grab my cousin, Boyang, to share hosting duties. I was simply too hoarse to be coherent. It would suck for Mark and Abbey look back to their wedding reception and remember only that I sounded like a broken accordion.
Luckily the happy couple seemed to guess that I might be at less than my usual 150%, and so they had a Starbucks concession especially licensed to operate at their wedding reception. They're coffee lovers, you see. Naturally, they want their guests to have free access to a caffeine fix. Of course.
I got back to the hotel at 1.30am, by which time I figured it'd be futile to sleep and risk missing my 7am flight back to Hong Kong. In Manila, if something could go wrong, it will. So my sister, Loren and I, simply called for massages.
I was back in Hong Kong less than 24 hours after I left - too exhausted to even be aghast at the explosion of event detritus all over my flat.
BACK IN HK,
LAUNDRY AND A MESSY FLAT YELLED FOR ATTENTION.
DID ALL THAT JUST FUCKING HAPPEN?!
Clearly, there had just been a Hyperactive Intensity 10 Tornado.
I dutifully scrubbed and laundered and sprayed and cleaned.
Last Thursday was dinner with the British Consul General. Next Thursday is the Guest List event at Volume HEAT. And then Mr Gay HK's send-off for Mr Gay World, and my birthday. Somewhere in there, I have to squeeze a reading for The Maids. And I mustn't forgo my regular workouts, of course, because Chris is arriving next week.
July is stupid!
I am sleepless, restless and running purely on adrenaline.
And I'm still going.
Where I'm now pulling energy from, I can't even tell any more.
Can we just stop and talk a while?
FUNNILY ENOUGH, THIS SONG WAS USED FOR A COFEE TVC DECADES AGO...
