truman capote couldn't have said it more succinctly. indeed, venice is sweet as it is intoxicating. that kind which you can never get enough of.

in fact, the moment i set foot in this romantic city (nevermind that it is sinking), i knew there was no escaping its fatal charm. i was instantly enchanted -- so much so that i wouldn't really mind staying and going down in the murky waters with it.

"lump the whole thing! say that the creator made italy from designs by
michelangelo!"

thus exclaimed the great american writer mark twain in exasperation following his visit to rome. he went on to launch a few more verbal assaults on the italian renaissance artist, bawling:

"i used to worship the mighty genius of michelangelo... but i do not want
michelangelo for breakfast, for luncheon, for dinner, for tea, for supper, for between meals... here, here, it is frightful! he designed saint peter's; he designed the pope... the eternal bore designed the eternal city, and unless all men and books do lie, he painted everything in it!

i never felt so fervently thankful, so soothed, so tranquil, so filled with the blessed peace, as i did yesterday when i learned that michelangelo was dead."

what had triggered this rabid emotional outburst by this fellow who had given us huckleberry finn and tom sayer?

for two days, i set out to find a satisfactory answer to this mind-boggling question.

i couldn't.

honestly, the only reason i could think of was he got blown away by rome's awesomeness that he went bonkers. i mean, pardon me mr twain -- i have great respect for you for sympathising with the filipino people and vehemently opposing american imperialism -- but it was beyond me why anyone would complain about a surfeit of these:

milan lived up to its reputation as the fashion capital of the world. powerhouse designers lined up its streets like trees along yio chu kang road.

shopping seemed to be milanese’s favourite hobby.

actually, a national pastime was more like it.

even our friendly neighborhood clown went for a facelift to do the catwalk, trading its quintessential red-and-yellow logo for a more elegant gold on black.

all because the fashion police, in their matching cars and uniforms, were in constant patrol.

what? you mean those were real cops? misinformation, sorry.

anyway, because the scant parking space and the horrendous traffic jam did not allow us the convenience of driving around in a car, we explored milan mostly on foot or riding the tram.

notice the flag. i feel like singing lupang hinirang.

from the glitzy quadrilatero d'oro shopping district, we sauntered off to piazza del duomo -- the throbbing heart of milan where the city's huge and elaborate gothic cathedral was standing proud.

warning to tourists: dress modestly if you plan to take a peek inside. this means no sleeveless tops or mini skirts despite the sweltering summer heat. believe me, i was turned away when i tried to sneak in.

for the record, i wasn't naked.

another astonishing structure at the heart of milan was the castello sforzesco, a castle once home to milan's aristocracy and now an art gallery boasting of impressive pieces such as michelangelo's rondanini pieta and vincenzo foppa's madonna of the book.

but my greatest pleasure was having the chance to admire leonardo da vinci's masterpice, the last supper, in all its restored glory at the church of santa maria della grazie.

too bad the lady at the reception area was not very convinced that the innocuous gadget hanging around my neck was not a camera.

i could have told her it was my mobile respirator.

after all, a day of sashaying around milan had left me breathless. both because of the city's amazing sights and the metropolitan smog that beat being in a crowded bar on a saturday night.

it’s been almost three months since i flew back from italy and i am still reeling from a bad case of inarticulacy.

i find myself unable to string words together to justly convey il belpaese's grandeur.

from its breath-taking landscapes, its exquisite food and wine, its wealth of artistic treasures, its luxurious sports cars, to its high fashion and its beautiful people – everything was overwhelmingly grand that i experienced what only dante could have imagined when he wrote: “ability failed my capacity to describe.”

or maybe it's just my limited vocabulary.

so, i reckon my succeeding posts should have enough photos to make up for my literary ineptitude.

hey, that's how magazines do.

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ahhh...the bane of modern-day existence.

seriously, i've just had about enough of these annoying spammers. already, i was forced to ditch the very first e-mail account i signed up for because it was filled to the brim with junk mails hard-selling merchandise from viagra to US home loans. wtf? whatever happened to the marketing mantra of properly identifying your target customers?

reporting spam or activating spam protection is of no use at all. i did both and got flooded with even more unwanted mails. technology is confusing like that.

so i am taking down the shoutbox from this blog. although having it here probably made me look like an overzealous teenage blogger (what with my generous use of smileys -- but hey, no blinkies!), i had kept it so that those who would find my writing too mediocre to merit any comment could at least use the damn box to just be nice and say hi. surprisingly, some people actually left me thoughtful notes there.

so to john, nicole, rex and all those fucking twats who ruined one of my simple joys in life by posting the unsolicited messages above, i wish you eternal diarrhoea.

and may you run out of toilet paper.

...to make me want to buy myself a bird.

because i'm going on a journey and i need good fortune.

yes, my dear friends, i finally got my passport stamped with a schengen visa -- and it's valid for two months and multiple entries, baby!

two weeks ago, i made a daring and possibly stupid decision on a whim. and yes, it involved giving up something as basic a necessity as my ciggies.

i quit my job.

This decision was fuelled by my desire to put an end to my everyday dilemma of calling in sick or telling my boss that i had been advised by relevant authorities to stay at home because a tyrannosaurus rex was running amok in our area. see, i had long lost my will to go to work. in fact, i only stuck around because my job still paid the bills and it somehow kept me occupied, preventing me from hatching evil plans to rule the world or doing crazy stuff like robbing a funeral parlour or joining the circus.

but then i got so burned out that i could no longer wait for a more exciting career to be delivered by the fedex guy right to my doorstep before i hand my boss that resignation letter. besides, i was really yearning for a break and the thought of spending a month tucked away in a glorious countryside somewhere in europe seemed very inviting.

so i did it. i turned my papers in notwithstanding the not-too-distant possibility that i would end up bumming around for a couple of months.

then i got a call this morning. an employment offer, actually. and a good one. now all i have to do is wait for my visa so i could go sip some leggy authentic italian wine before i start on my new job.

the gods of pizza, pasta and disgruntled corporate slaves are smiling down on me.

i was in kuala lumpur last month with my goodfella when, after chain-smoking two sticks of cigarettes and feeling a mild stab of pain in my chest, it struck me that i had been lighting up and puffing away for the past 10 years.

i was not sure if that called for a celebration. i mean, 10 years was...well, a decade. a lot of things have happened since then.

1996 was a coming-of-age year for me. it was also the year tom jerry maguire cruise would lose the oscars to shine's geoffrey rush and eric clapton's change the world would be named record of the year by the grammys.

fast forward to the present. tom cruise remains a loser (last item he lost was a screw in his head), geoffrey rush no longer shines and the world has indeed undergone a transformation -- how major (or minor) or whether the change was for the better i can't really tell, but i'm positively sure it's not the work of eric clapton.

as for me, i wake up every morning to the feeling of an elephant sitting on my chest. not good. after my botched attempt to slay the beast two years ago, the monster that is my smoking habit is now exacting its revenge. and it's determined to undo me.

maybe it's my increasing paranoia, or me getting older, or one of those hallelujah moments where dr jekyll prevails over mr hyde.

yes, i once again made a vow to quit smoking.

so help me god.

my application for permanent residency has been approved after some major explaining that saw me writing a letter exposing the wicked nurse's evil scheme.

so i am now officially a member of the singapore community, lah.

apologies to mike for this waaaay overdue post. see, i've been procrastinating to do this because it takes so much from me to pen down 20 random personal trivia when i can just easily give myself away in one word: demented.

but for the sake of those who have not seen me pole dance or stab someone in the face with a fork yet, i shall make a feeble attempt to introduce myself.

here goes:

1. hi, i am brenda and i am an alcoholic. that is, if being an alcoholic means defeating a male colleague in a beer-drinking contest, bagging the prestigious AA award at a corporate christmas party and receiving a flask for a trophy.

2. also, i once got so plastered that i locked myself up in the loo (it wasn't my house, by the way) and spent the night dreaming that people were furiously knocking on the door and yelling that their kidneys were about to burst. man, what a weird dream.

3. but before you pass any judgment and start thinking that i spend most of my waking hours getting smashed, let me set the record straight by stressing that i am merely an occasional drinker with high tolerance for alcohol. no, that bottle of tequila beside my bed proves nothing.

4. ironically, i once glugged down a grande frapuccino and almost hyperventilated myself to sleep. and by sleep, i mean that kind which you never wake up.

5. i have long given up drinking soda. unless it's mixed with vodka.

6. i managed to graduate from the university without memorising the multiplication table. so if you have a mathematical problem, i am not the right person to ask. unless you want me to make fun of correct your grammar.

7. the longest i've gone without a minute of sleep is four days. i kid you not.

8. i celebrated my birthday on the wrong date for 24 freaking years. don't call me stupid, or i'll whack your brains out with my stilettos, you smartass.

9. i have eight body piercings. three on each ear (two of which are almost non-existent), one on my nose and a tongue stud. don't ask me what a tongue stud is for.

10. no, i do not have a tattoo. yet.

11. should i decide to get inked, i want an ankh on my lower back. the ankh represents life for the egyptians, while gaiman fans associate it with death. lovely. the end is the beginning is the end.

12. slobbing about in front of the telly and popping in movies are among my favourite pastimes. and so is gunning down boyband members and collecting their heads for taxidermy.

13. i appreciate music with well-written lyrics and marvel at how any individual with a mental age above three years old can shamelessly sing along to ashlee simpson.

14. i love the smell of burning matchsticks. i don't play with fire, though. unless it involves setting britney spears' hair ablaze, then you can count me in.

15. i have crooked teeth.

16. i lurve dancing. street dancing, ballroom dancing, dirty dancing (think mud), rain dancing, dancing babies, dancing shoes, dancing lights, dancing buttered chickens with corn kernels...

17. i don't do drugs.

18. those waving fortune cat figurines disturb me. whenever i come face to face with one, a voice inside my head keeps nagging me to whip out a sledgehammer and smash that feline monstrosity to bits while chanting die evil putty tat! die!

19. worms, slugs, snakes and anything that slithers make my skin crawl.

20. for six months, i had been able to refrain from smoking. but, as with all my endeavours to walk the path of goodness, i eventually succumbed to temptations. i think it's only a matter of time before i start sipping coke and downing rapid-fire tequila shots again.

alrighty. so i have to tag others, right? how about madel, twinkle, gladyz, adolfo and oliver? forgive me guys.