Blotting Paper: A life of sex and drugs

[eeemen]

Waiting for next post as well as updates! Cheers, ....................

[Lindblum]

UPDATE: previous posts edited for major content

[Lindblum]

New Year’s Eve

Kyung


Was it drool accumulating on the left side of his face, Phillip couldn’t tell. What he did know was that all familiar cold press of wet slimy saliva on the fabric of his pillowcase against his cheek, and it was anything but comfortable. He had pulled another all-nighter for the past few nights working on his computer, frequently sleeping at 5 in the morning because in the days preceding Christmas he was busy with everything relating to December 25th.

First, pre-Christmas shopping needed to be done that included everything from groceries to presents, then everyone had to meet Aunt Choi and family over at New Jersey for a Christmas reunion on Christmas Eve, followed by an actual celebration on Christmas day itself at his place in Queens, New York. For the longest time, Christmas was the one season he looked forward to since he was a kid because it represented more than just warmth and family; it was magical. Daylight was nothing more than the gradual symphonic built up of the Christmas spirit, in anticipation of the grandeur of the finale when the day gave way to dusk. Because when night fell, the town would glow with an inspirational mix of green Christmas trees decked in brilliant displays of ribbons, red, silver, and gold, coupled with bright Christmas lights, against the backdrop of the majestic vastness of the night sky sprinkled with silver stars. Whenever a cold breeze swept across town and Phillip was walking down the streets huddled in his coat on a night like this, it felt like with a little bit more of Christmas cheer, his coat would fluff out at the bottom, and with a slight leap, he could take off and fly into the night.

He got up looking dazed with blood shot eyes staring into oblivion. The percolating light through the wooden blinds hinted at the time of the day; it was close to noon, and still he felt like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. It was like college all over again, frequently working until dawn and crashing on the bed till his first class at noon.

Phillip was still very much a child and a even though he was already 25. He slept with his baby pillow his grandmother from Seoul had sewn him since he was born. There was a poster of a Night Elf on the wall, and World of Warcraft action figures of almost all classes lined up along the windowsill. That wasn’t even the end of it. He had a dedicated shelf just to keep his Japanese comic books, and video games. His favorite comic book series: One Piece. It was a story about a boy with big dreams of becoming a Pirate King, rather befitting of Phillip’s life so far. To think about how he was able to get any studying done in a room like this has always been one of the greatest mysteries of the Kyung family. He was a great dreamer, frequently self-absorbed in his own world, and had great aspirations of embarking on an adventure filled with thrill and excitement like in the movies. The irony was, he wasn’t able to step out of his comfort zone. New Jersey was probably the furthest he had ever ventured out to on his own.

There was still an hour before meeting a Robert Arrigo on Manhattan for lunch, but he had to leave early. He couldn’t drive; the roads were a testament of the snowstorm the night before that blanketed the entire East Coast in at least 4-inches of snow. Phillip pulled the blinds up and saw his car buried in an uneven heap of freshly plowed snow swept by the snowplows. His mother downstairs could distinctly hear him shouting, “fuck!” after he had pulled the blinds up. With hardly any time to lose, he washed up, packed his laptop into his bag, grabbed his coat, and made his way down to the train station. Thankfully the trains were operational.

Phillip walked into the café wrapped from top to toe like a burrito, huddled in two layers of clothing and an outer black coat that had obvious white lint speckled all over it; a testament to its age. He had used since his freshman year at college and somehow, Phillip never got down to changing it. Coby on the other hand changed his coat every year out of pure vanity. Coby pursued style and fashion, while Phillip simply prioritized functionality. “If it keeps you warm, it does its job,” was his favorite retort to Coby.

“He’s late…” Shaking his head in disapproval as he grabbed a seat, removed his gloves, and unpeeled his coat at the same time. He chose a seat close to the window; somehow the natural sunlight and a view of the streets gave him a better appetite. Phillip just couldn’t fathom how anyone, in good conscience, could make someone else wait and it was already 15 minutes past the arranged time

The door opened, and through it stepped a figure calmly brushing the frost off his black leather shoes against the doormat, betraying no emotion, indicating no sign of remorse for being late. It had to be him; that smug of confidence on his face, and the perpetually unapologetic straight posture that gave anyone the impression that someone of his stature was worth waiting for. It was an unmistakable mark of the stereotypical Wall Street types. He was clad in a black overcoat, complete with an inner suit and white shirt, its collars fastened with a striped tie of baby blue and black. Furthermore, Phillip had seen his picture on Linked-In when he searched him up.

Phillip was nervous; he had rehearsed his lines multiple times in his head before this meeting, from basic introductions to the main topic. What Phillip wasn’t sure, was how to keep this Robert Arrigo from walking out on him after he had said his piece. He wasn’t used to meeting strangers, much less engage them on a personal level, but it was urgent, and he had to make this arrangement on his own without Coby and L. knowing. Whatever butterflies he had before had to be put aside now. Besides, Phillip convinced himself he was meeting a banker from a reputable bank, how dangerous could it possibly be.

[Lindblum]

Kyung II

Phillip got out of his chair. He didn’t realize this but he was slumped; his left hand was in his pocket clenching the inner fabric, and with the other, he stretched out to initiate pleasantries.

“Phillip Kyung; glad you could make it.”

“Robert Arrigo, my pleasure.”

For some funny reason, Phillip felt dwarfed in his presence. It wasn’t Robert’s height, he was just slightly taller than Phillip. He felt like a fish out of water. A part of Phillip wished he had the confidence of L., the social awareness of Coby, and the serenity of his father. There was definitely something dominating about Robert’s body language that communicated a subtle passive aggressiveness. His smile was professional, his tone was assertive, and his handshake was firm to the bone. Clearly, Robert was used to meeting strangers all the time, and getting his way. He had brown hair, was clean shaven, had thick bushy eyebrows, and deep inset eyes that betrayed his ancestry apart from his last name.

‘Definitely Italian..Come on, I can do this’

After both of them were done ordering, they were filling themselves on the table bread and butter spreads, making small talk about the snowstorm the night before, and a little bit on good lunch places in NYC. Everything was perfect in the first ten minutes. Every conversation topic and line Phillip had rehearsed before, came out perfectly and he was proud of it. One thing Phillip and Robert shared, was their belief in having light lunches that wasn’t too expensive.

“You know, I really appreciate how we can talk like this oh - I’m sorry,” Giving way to the server to place the quiche and scrambled eggs on the table. “So.. what did you want to talk about today?”

Finally it was time. Phillip had been waiting for him to say this. He put down his fork, took a napkin, wiped his mouth clean of any leftover butter grease and bread crumbs, and put both hands on his lap. Robert noticed the change in atmosphere but maintained a poker face and a look of normalcy while working on his spinach quiche with his fork.

“Swim.”

There was an immediate silence. Robert’s fork stopped in mid air, his mouth stopped chewing, his face was straight and expressionless, but he still didn’t look up. Phillip had thought of a million ways to ease the topic in, but there was no better way than to do it this way. With one word, he could tell whether Robert understood where this conversation was headed, and he was not disappointed with Robert’s response. Phillip’s heart was racing; it was a fragile moment, and he had to give Robert time to take it in before saying another word. Then, miraculously, Robert continued eating again, maintained that composure, and hinted at a willingness to listen.

“How can I help Swim?”

It was nothing but relief for Phillip, but the task was far from over. Robert was willing to talk, but he had to find ways to keep Robert at the table.

“Swim wants to know about Bitcoins; specifically how to sell it.” His palms were sweating up, and he was slowly starting to grip his jeans in nervousness.

“That, requires a computer programmer to explain it.” Saying it very nonchalantly while stuffing his mouth with scrambled eggs. “But if Swim likes, I could send a request to my bank’s trading desk to open an account.”

“Anonymously; without detection, if you know what it means.” Phillip was tired of using the acronym that meant, ‘Someone Who Isn’t Me.’ It was a known internet colloquial for people wanting to engage in illicit activities that wouldn’t be unfamiliar to lawyers and bankers. The banking world was never as clean as it portrayed itself to be, and Phillip knew it because he was used to his father talking about his experiences. The very fact that Robert was still at the table despite knowing what it meant, suggested he was open to ‘ideas.’

“If you’re asking for my professional help, I -”

“I’m asking for your unaffiliated personal opinion, Mister Arrigo, and here’s the promised price for this one-hour meeting that took up your precious time. I sincerely thank you for it. ” Sliding an envelope across the table containing three hundred dollars.

Phillip was about to cry; he had never said and done something so outrageous before in his entire life. He felt like he was sweating an ocean inside his clothes, and he wished he had some alcohol or a joint of marijuana to ease his anxiety. For a brief moment, he wished it was the usual drinking session with the boys. Robert Arrigo hadn’t accepted the envelope; it was still sitting in the middle of the table, and time slowed to a crawl. Phillip was just anxiously waiting for a response, intently staring at Robert with his hands firmly clasping on his jeans.

“That depends. How much are we talking about,” maintaining his usual tone.

“Close to fifty thousand USD.”

“Then you’ll never get it off an exchange without an ID. The Blockchain-”

“I know about the Blockchain. It’s a public ledger anyone can view showing all transactions, past and present, for a given Bitcoin, that’s why I’m asking for your opinion.”

Once again, there was another pause. Robert was just focused on eating his quiche and scrambled eggs, appearing to completely ignore Phillip’s straight question. Then, to Phillip’s surprise, Robert took the envelope, stuffing it in his coat pocket.

“There are only three ways. Either you package the Bitcoins and sell it for USD through various accounts like a financial security, mix it with other Bitcoins and do it the same way, or meet a buyer in person to exchange the escrow codes in cash, signifying a proper transfer. Look, the Blockchain only shows the transfers, not the person, just remember that. Once you mix it up, or use different accounts, nothing can track Mr Swim down.”

He needed to hear that. Apparently, Phillip knew about these ideas a long time ago, having done adequate research into Silk Road and Bitcoin laundering the moment L. told him about the partnership. He had hoped a rogue banker could provide a different insight he hadn’t thought of, but Robert was nothing short of a disappointment. Since Phillip dealt with the laundering and orders, it was his responsibility to deal with the Bitcoins. It was easy to buy Bitcoins anonymously, but selling it presented a huge problem because of the Blockchain, and ID requirements of the Bitcoin exchanges around the world. Mt Gox in Japan may be the preferred exchange to buy Bitcoins, but selling it in bulk would be an obvious problem since the United States could issue a Subpoena anytime, requiring Mt Gox to reveal everything about an account holder that required a certified ID.

“Thanks for the lunch, Phillip. I’ll see you soon, depending on your disposition.” Speaking with a smug and wiping his mouth with his napkin, buttoning his overcoat at the same time. Although the arranged hour wasn’t up, and his quiche wasn’t finished, Robert chose to leave. It didn’t matter to Phillip; he had heard what he needed to hear, and he was satisfied.

“Would you like me box your quiche up, Mr Kyung?” Said the server.

“No, it’s ok, just bring me the check.” Eyeing Robert Arrigo as he left the cafe.

[Lindblum]

Previously, on Blotting Paper

“Would you like me box your quiche up, Mr Kyung?”

“No, just bring me the check.” Eyeing Robert Arrigo as he left the cafe. He hadn’t touched his quiche throughout the entire meeting.

==========================================

Phillip rested his chin on his palms, watching Robert Arrigo flag a cab across the street. The scope of whatever everyone involved was trying to achieve, clearly exceeded the planned individual purview of responsibility. He should have known this; L. had hinted to him before that when he goes back to Singapore, each will have to deal with problems on their side. The number of felonies committed other than selling drugs could put him in prison for at least 20 years. Maybe Coby was right when he joked they’d be far better off selling drugs on some shady alley as a street pusher; at least the penalties were much lesser. Simply put, a smart criminal sending Federal agencies and international police departments on a wild goose chase will be prosecuted to the fullest extent the law permits, with no possibility of parole unless you had something they needed in exchange.

However, there was something about the allure of this operation that breathed some meaning into his life. Phillip remembered Sam Stein, the tough sadist from High School who used to bump into him along the hallway, taking pleasure in watching him fall to the ground, because he was a scrawny little kid with no friends. He recalled the mean old jokes the girls used to make about him, ‘that dirty kid who spends more time wanking.’ Those bullies were frequently called to the Principal’s office, but the bullying would repeat itself after a few days. Then, Coby gathered his group of friends from the Football Club and tied Sam Stein to a tree in his underpants, and Sam Stein never touched Phillip ever since.

Still he recalled Principal Cinzia’s words, “What is your resolve?” She was sick and tired of it being a weekly affair, and there wasn’t any improvement. Phillip’s social anxiety made it awkward to interact, and everyone found him weird. Deep down inside, he somehow knew she was insinuating him to overcome it on his own, but by some misguided sense, he chose to see himself as being victimized by everyone. All his life, he had relied on someone else to stand up for him.

For once, he had a chance to be on a global stage, where everyone would finally pay attention to him, where a global police force of thousands upon thousands of people would acknowledge his existence, and his talent. They will look for him; nobody would ignore him anymore. He had always been the top student in all his schools, even graduating with Honors at college, but nobody seemed to recognize that. L. was right about him all along; he possessed skills that the universe would be proud of. It would seem that among all his friends and family, only L. truly recognized his intellect and skills.

“What is my resolve? I will not die in obscurity like you, Principal Cinzia. Fuck you, all of you.” Signing the check, putting on his coat, and walking out of the cafe. The contrast of the dim-lighted cafe against the full glory of the afternoon glared him to a squint. He drew out his phone, dialed, and held his phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“L, it’s me. I’ll see you at your place tomorrow before your flight, 1pm. Everything is ready.”

A strong breeze swept across the city, ruffling his long coat to sporadic snaps. He had never met a more compelling, and inspiring person such as L. It was a liberating light at the end of the tunnel, giving him a new purpose in life. That old forgotten dam in the mountains the town ignored was long brimming with turbulent water. Finally it broke. Every shackle and bound that held him back, was cleaved. He was free..

“World.”

“ My name, is Phillip Kyung. And you will god damn remember that.”

Chapter 5

Genesis

The Terminal was bustling with travellers, big and small. Families lugging suitcases and baggages of all shapes, sizes, and colors, formed the majority of the serpent line stretching all the way to the entrance in the class of ordinary folk, while the rich with their snobbish stature exclusively zipped right through theirs in their privileged class designation. Clearly, it pays to be rich at this time of the year. It was the very first day of 2013, a public holiday, and everyone was in high spirits for the long journey ahead, both metaphorical and literal.

I could accept the long line at the check-in counters. Facebook, Twitter, and chat applications on my smartphone were the best present-day time machines. However, the mandatory security check in the wake of 911 that came close to a strip search was a pain in the butt. The Transportation Security Administration, TSA, methodical search for explosives and drugs was nothing short of expected. I was prepared down to the last detail for the TSA. I had replaced Violet’s 250ug LSD bottle with one of Vivian’s expensive facial care products, properly washed out, placed in my main luggage with utmost precaution that was nothing short of a typical chemistry quantitative transfer. That meant every drop went straight into the transfer bottle with no spillage, or traces on the side. How was the TSA going to detect anything?

What I hadn’t expected, was something I called the ‘Swipe Machine,’ a new weapon of the TSA. Apparently, this new machine was not in the news, and was something I couldn’t have prepared for in my extensive research. They would typically swipe your palms and major body parts with a special stripe, feed it to the machine, and every slight trace of a cataloged chemical compound in the database they were looking for, would show up. If it does show up, that person would be pulled in for further questioning, and investigation.

When it came to my turn for the the Swipe Machine, my heart was racing with dread. I could recognize this machine because there was something similar in my University’s chemistry lab, where we would use to analyze substances. What made matters worse, was that I had done the LSD transfer earlier in the day, and there was a possibility of getting some vapor trace stuck on my skin.

“Sir, step forward please. Palms out.” Gesturing with an index finger.

It was a Black female officer with an expression that betrayed her long experience to anyone with a trained eye. Fortunately, her tactics were all too familiar. An expressionless face, an imposing posture, a constant straight eye contact in hopes of unnerving me into giving away my act, while her partner stood behind me to watch for twitching, shuffling, or anything out of the ordinary. He was there to tell her that I was a possible Red Flag, and to bring me in for further search.

I contained my emotions, and resisted every inch of body language that could potentially signal a Red Flag. The TSA were trained to look for that, and similarly, my police experience gave me the acquired skills to look out for that in criminals. Now, was the time to apply those skills to save myself. Everything that I would have looked out for as a police officer, I assumed she was doing the same. I was the perfect man for this job, recognizing in silent acknowledgement of my own abilities. I could play this poker game with her all day long only to emerge victorious, but what I couldn’t beat was the Swipe Machine.

Then the results came out: I was clean. It was just pure luck that I decided to take a shower before leaving for the airport that washed clean all traces of LSD on my skin, although I thought there would still be some traces left behind. A 21 hour flight through Frankfurt, Germany, was too long for me not to shower, and I had paid for the utilities bill until the end of January 2013. She thanked me for my cooperation, and directed me to the exit. I was relieved.

[Lindblum]

Chapter 5

Genesis II

When I wasn’t stopped at the boarding gate into the airplane, I knew I had cleared every security aspect the TSA could conjure. I was a free man. It made me think about how flawed the entire security system was, and how it could be easily beaten by intelligent people. If I could get through with 900 hits of LSD, someone else with my intelligence could have cleared with much more.

It was already five hours into the flight, close to midnight by New York’s time. The cabin attendants dressed in elegant coke-bottled Kebayas of blue, green, and red, the cultural icon of the national airline, were constantly walking up and down the aisles, pacifying passengers who had trouble sleeping. I was one of those who couldn’t sleep, and was just staring out of the window from my seat into the darkness of the night, trying to the best of my abilities to admire, appreciate my proximity to the starlit sky that lay overhead, while deep in thought about my next move in Singapore. However, I was constantly interrupted by this middle-aged European lady sitting next to me who wouldn’t stop talking to me in rhetorical sentences like, “I just wish the attendants could arrive faster,” or “Well, what did you know, they just dimmed the lights.”

I couldn’t take it anymore, and blurted without much hesitation.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but I have a lot of things on my mind, and I’m just trying to figure it out on my own.”

“Fine.” Rolling her eyes at me at the same time, with a tone expressing her sarcastic displeasure.

Thankfully, she disembarked during our transit in Frankfurt, Germany, and I was seated next to a fat European dude who spent most of his time sleeping. At first, I thought of what I had to do to remain anonymous, then I caught a glimpse of my deceased mother who succumed to colon cancer outside the window, and I vaguely recalled a conversation with her about my school performance, then Phillip showed up out of the blue, culminating in a gradual drift into the unconscious. The fatigue had finally taken a toll on my body.

“The server codes and templates are all done. This is gonna be the layout. Operates to allow Bitcoin exchange like Silk Road does, and we take 10% for each transaction.” Phillip’s voice echoed in the background.

“L. here are the books, ‘Bridging the Gaps in Asia and the World.’ Printed in 1995; I bought this in New Jersey while visiting my Aunt. Every possible word we can reference to, like ‘Police,’ ‘United States,’ ‘banks’ and ‘Singapore’ is in there. I attached a cipher and instructions at the back to reference any numbers and dates we need to use. Once you’re over there, you have to develop your own codes for your local contacts.”

“Wait.. what the hell?” I was screaming to the best of my ability, but it came out as a murmur. Then I woke up, finding the fat European dude finally awake, and staring at me.

“Are you ok?”

“Excuse me, I need to check something,” getting out of my seat, shuffling my way through, and opening the overhead compartment for my backpack.

I heaved a sigh of relief; the code book and thumb drive were in my backpack. It wasn’t a dream, but a brief memory of a prior conversation. The code book Phillip gave me before I left for the airport, and the thumb drive for a duplicate set of server codes, templates, and encryptions, were in there.

[Lindblum]

UPDATE: Phillip's segment at the end of Kyung has been edited for a more powerful resolve. Do check it out and enjoy the story.

[Sen5eS]

very promising indeed ...

Anything like Breaking Bad the tv series ?

[prott]

If me write story about ah beng and ah seng, a story about love, fight and betrayal, and a mission to conquer all the gang in Singapore, will it be as good as TS.

Show hand who want to read my story, and UP me as well.

[Lindblum]

Originally Posted by Sen5eS

very promising indeed ...

Anything like Breaking Bad the tv series ?

Thank you bro. This is absolutely nothing like Breaking Bad. To keep this original, I abstained from watching Breaking Bad on purpose, thus whenever people mention Breaking Bad, I'm clueless lol.

[ojit82]

Great story.. waiting for updates..!

[Lindblum]

Previously on Blotting Paper

“Excuse me, I need to check something,” getting out of my seat, shuffling my way through, and opening the overhead compartment for my backpack.

I heaved a sigh of relief; the code book and thumb drive were in my backpack. It wasn’t a dream, but a brief memory of a prior conversation. The code book Phillip gave me before I left for the airport, and the thumb drive for a duplicate set of server codes, templates, and encryptions, were in there.

=============================

“Thank you,” shuffling back to my seat by the window. My head was heavy, and I was present in both reality, and the depths of memory.

I was too tired to recall the conversation and exchange Phillip and I had at my place before I left for the airport, but it was all flowing back now, swirling in a whirlpool of other memories, and emotions. Memories that belonged to a different time, sketches of people past, and distinct recollections of recent events. The darkness at the other end of the glass threw back a blurry reflection of myself, and opened a window into my soul.

I didn’t see it wrong. It was Her, decked in white long robes that shone, looking at me with a gentle smile, while I calmly stood at a distance. The mourning, nightmares, and tears were long past; I had moved on a time time ago.

“I know your face... Why did you leave?”

“L…Mom can’t be with you foreve-”

The distinct chime from the Seatbelt Sign sounded, and I was brought back. Cabin Attendants were scurrying past the aisles, the pressure in my ears was building up, and I could vaguely see the silhouette of ships that were now the size of my thumb against their navigation lights. We were descending into Singapore, and hitting turbulence at the same time. The entire cabin sank into an speechless eerie calm amid the turbulent bumps, and there were loud reverberating clangs of a loosely fastened cabin attendant’s trolley against its storage walls, heightening the unease.

“Join the volunteer police? Your notion of justice is nothing more than a child’s ideology. Grow up. You’re wasting your time, L. Go back to school; your friend’s are all ahead of you.” My father’s voice resounded inside.

“L, I’m sorry your father didn’t want to come to your graduation today. May I have the honor of putting on your rank epaulettes for you? Congratulations, you will make a fine police officer.”

Magazines suddenly jolted off someone else’s tray table onto the aisles from an unexpected plunge in altitude, bringing me back once again.

The aircraft’s flaps were now fully extended. My hands were firmly gripped on the armrests, while my European neighbor was wiping the beads of cold sweat off his face with his handkerchief. The loud clanging from the loose trolley, the sight of imminent twilight against the rising backdrop of ships, and the memories from long ago, sent spine chilling pulses throughout my body. I couldn’t contain it and broke out into a joyless laughter.

“Cabin crew, to your landing stations,” came the overhead announcement.

This was the defining moment of everything, an irreversible turning point in time. The chessboard was set, the game was afoot. As the aircraft made a final turn into the approach, the thriving colossal metropolis swung into view, rose from the horizon like a glowing amber from a fireplace in the darkest night, and the cabin shuddered in its magnificence. Sergeant Lee was right when he pinned my epaulettes on; I would have made a fine police officer. On the gameboard, I had already picked a side, but it wasn’t on his. My neighbor’s fat triple chin that replaced his neck shook in resonance with the rattling cabin, and we were pushed back into our seats as the aircraft flared like an eagle encroaching a prey, while we waited in anticipation for the impending bump on solid ground. This was the genesis of a journey, an origin story of an adversary which Sergeant Lee and the likes of him have never encountered. Behold, I am coming.

“I’ve already listed us on Silk Road. Any requests from Silk Road is directed to our domain specifically listing Singapore and Asia as the delivery region. Buyers and other dealers will come to us because we are the only ones operating in Asia and they will see it as a system that works. They will hunt for you, L, all of them. Stay safe.”

“The three of us will go by the moniker, EL.”

“Wait Phillip, have you decided on a name for this whole Operation?”

“I have. Its called-”

“Lilith.”

The wheels finally hit the tarmac, roaring with joy as though meeting an old friend who was sorely missed, blaring its engines in full reverse thrust, and extending its speed brakes in forward position. I was home.

[belgianseat]

Setting up tent , nice story!

[jacksosi]

waiting for more..

[lanternathletic]

Camping for more !! ~