my hand, my friend

I just had a minor operation on my right hand a few days ago and I am now having a bit handicap in everything and only from now on I realize how clumsy my left hand is. It can't write properly, even for some simple action like washing face and brushing teeth, it needs extra effort and attention. Of course for these few days of intense training of my left hand, I'm looking forward to having a more developed right brain (i.e. more aesthetic and creative) but having shown the clumsiness of my left hand, I suspect that my right brain is very under-developed and that's.... very depressing. For the bandage around my right hand now looks like a big rice dumpling, I actually shouldn't spend time to type my blog, ...err but i do not want to read the documents on my desk (see, how cruel the world is, I still need go to work after having operation...)

Whine not. We should be glad for our continuation of daily routines, no matter how boring or meaningless they are. My words sound very cliche. But this is what I think for this moment. I got a friend that I always secretly complained about, for her becoming a bored person, degrading herself by not knowing anything new except the taiwan pop idol, no reading no hobbies no interests no point of view. I'm harsh and arrogant I know. I sometimes wondered what life changed her or wore and tear her to such uninspiring state. I sometimes suspected it was her real self and her younger self was just a pretender. She is my old friend, one of my best friends. I have many "once in the lifetime" experience with her. As we grew older, our paths separated. Different priorities and commitments. Our schedules didn't match. Or we just lost interest to each other. We didn't bother to ask or invite each other to attend events. I tended to go to gigs or travel by myself. It sounds like I become independent (but also a loner). I can't judge if it's blessing to have friend(s) with you on the road. Of course to be alone sounds very pathetic (oh I quite enjoy it) but you can be sure that your feeling will remain intact and will not be affected by others. To have friend(s) you will have sweet memories of share laughter, follies and adventures. But I don't know if such sweet memories will some days turn to be a sigh. I hope my friend can have a very quick recovery. I said to her that she would be alright to attend the tat ming pair gig, am i a blind optimist?

yes, i talk incoherently, my usual ramblings.

i'm ok in my decay

I'm the missing note of your song,
living in the space of your 2 seconds silence.
I'm the sigh of a reckless traveller,
always running after the departing train.
I'm the meek who shall not inherit the earth,
glazing over in the corner,
gazing at your loving and laughing postures.
I put a smile on my face,
self-effacing, that's what I'm good at.

some suicides are never recorded

It's been a while that I have not visited this place (again), as from the very beginning I already declared that it was a wasted garden. Having said that, I still like the feeling of writing something here (however trivial and unimportant it is) when I was tired of writing something there. Recently I have a feeling that I don't have any particular event that requires me to made a record here (and I was always amazed that how other people could have so many events in or comments to their daily life which fill up their blogs). My life is just routine. Ernold Same is my song.



But I still want to make some entry here, no matter if it is so empty like this one. I admit that sometimes I felt embarrassed by making status updates on facebook. You were either ignored by or received weird comments from your friends. By making updates I can't help guessing what your friends/acquaintances will perceive your words. I feel these thoughts or consideration are some kind of restriction of my freedom. Here is more carefree. It's strange that you always feel more free among strangers, maybe that's the reason why we all like travelling.




Recently I was also busy in transferrng my old cds to my mp3 player, this job never ends. I found out some of my lost (forgotten) treasures. The Boo Radleys, one of my most favourite bands in the 90's, how come I totally forgot them in the noughties? That brought me back my melancholic teenage years. Oh I should make a separate entry about them. Grandaddy, my other favourite in the beginning of the noughties, I didn't totally forget them and sometimes still dug out Sumday (and I like it more than The Sophtware Slump). Oh, these California guys, sunny music but always makes me blue (and that's why I like it, very masochistic). This morning I heard El Caminos in the West, it said "I paint the words a simple wish, for peace of mind and happiness". That's my wish also.

Moments

When the flight was accelerating and began to take off, I felt such acceleration was like a tearing force, torn my heart into pieces, torn me apart from that land, the land that I knew too well that I almost lost the tourist's enthusiasm but still I would not doubt my fondness for return one day.

She said the sky was beautiful, when I pushed her on a wheelchair passing through the long and silent corridor of departure. Yes indeed. I said "this is the London sky, please keep the scene in your mind." I felt a sudden strike of sadness after saying these words. She smiled and said I could return any day I wanted. Yes, I know.

something indicative

I know I always have problems but I never realize that they're so serious. I scored 36, oh my.


Are you alright?

save me from tomorrow

I hate these words, they're so true.

Deep down, all the while, she was waiting for something to happen. Like a sailor in distress, she kept casting desperate glances over the solitary waster of her life, seeking some white sail in the distant mists of the horizon. She had no idea by what wind it would reach her, toward what shore it would bear her, or what kind of craft it would be – tiny boat or towering vessel, laden with heartbreaks or filled to the gunwhales with rapture. But every morning when she awoke she hoped that today would be the day; she listened for every sound, gave sudden starts, was surprised when nothing happened; and then, sadder with each succeeding sunset, she longed for tomorrow.

Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert

Conversation with devil

Of course I recognised you.

I know your fierceness, anger, violence and, your tenderness, you were once an angel, of course it's no difficult for you to speak the gentle words and hum a sweet rhyme. You never fail to tempt me, sometimes I begged you to stop, for I was and will never as strong and intelligent as you, so let me be the meek and the humble, the innocence and the ignorance. You smiled and said what a hypocrite I was, as in fact it was me who asked you to stop me if I tried to stop you. You laughed at my quest for wisdom, saying that's the origin of sin, for human brain was too defective to think and understand. "Stop!" I begged again. A sense of fear struck into me suddenly, but what was I frightened for? Your evil, clairvoyance or, simply my own weaknesses? "mogwai fear satan" you sneered. I know you like riddles. When you said "happy songs for happy people", did you actually refer to your sad songs for sad people? But I couldn't really fathom that you refer me to one of your titles. You laughed, stating in a matter-of-fact tone that human beings got all the traits of devil except their retarded intelligence. "That is old cliche" I yawned, "yes, we can be cruel, jealous and greedy", that's so trite, you might not be as clever as you claimed. You didn't respond to my mockery, instead, you asked me out for a walk together. We went to a precipice, far above the banal world the cold wind cut me like a razorblade. Under the starry sky, you sang me those celestial songs, echoing the stories before your fall. Suddenly you grabbed my hand and plunged, I was dazzled by the strange rays of light - red, green and white, maddened by the howling of thousands faceless souls, scorched by the inferno fire, I was overwhelmed and possessed, strangled and suffocated, was it a punishment for my rude remark? "No" you said. Everything stopped, at once. You're gone. I returned back to my room. I now understand in addition to cruelty, jealousy and greed, I'm so ambiguous, hesitated, indifferent and numb, breathing but not living, this is so evil like a crime, you pushed me to the extremity, torn me apart, killed but also awaken my senses, meanwhile, I lost my peace of mind.

You are so fierce, angry, violent and tender. Of course I recognise you. I know you are but what am I?


Mogwai @ HITEC, Hong Kong 18.01.09
This is not a video clip actually, cos' i was behind a bunch of westerners, everything is shaky and out fo. this is a audio clip. Personally, it should be "sad songs, stay til the end. Old songs remind me of friends".

i am a dog walking backwards

this is a new year, a new start for me, a new start for you.

actually i don't have any idea for my future or which direction should i turn (directionless so plain to see, a loaded gun won't set you free...) oh, touch wood, yes, this is new year, any negative thought is not allowed. i remember someone who is so clever but not very wise once said that he did not get on with the future, so they just ignored each other. only up till now i understand his words, so he's indeed clever and wise.


before turning a new page in 2009, let me be a dog walking backwards for a few steps and express my deep gratitude for anyone who had showed kindness to me in taipei, singe initially the riddle but then the cute sweetie, ah nan and other suede persons at simple life who took care of me in the absolute choas (well, the choas was not because of brett anderson, it's for the act (soda6) afterwards), and of course (let's clap) the language-master (and multi-functional) ppp who gave me so much which i can hardly articulate, warmed the cold, brightened the grey, spent time with a lonely soul to wander aimlessly or purposefully, enroute or by mistake.


brett anderson, who got the blame and criticism (again) for singing the good old suede, if people who thought brett was just a fallen idol, why did they care to see? You don't need a reason to hate or love someone. i myself think brett was still brilliant, no matter when he sang his solo songs or those suede ones.


jarvis cocker, with english accent and, english humour, still the charming darling, a valentine kept receiving bunches of roses from the crowd, still danced with his unique poses, played dead or watered the roses on stage, his every note and every move was just right, thought the last song (space oddity) which was collaborated with miss yang was a bit weird.

monday or tuesday

Lazy and indifferent, I went to office as usual, reading woolf online, as usual. so silent that i could only hear my own thought, if i was not too drowsy and transcending to other space. What did I come in here for? What did I want to find? My hands were empty. no more gibberish, no one wants poetry.

i like storm. crazy downpour and strong gust of wind, nature's periodic mischief, reminder of man as insect (insignificant, inept, useless and sometimes disgusting), but the time before storm is real horrendous, as if there is no more oxygen left in this planet, i can't breathe, i melt.

prayer for the rain, prayer for the storm, prayer for an extra morning to sleep late.(news that signal 8 will be hoisted at about 6:00pm, too soon too fast, so what will be tomorrow morning?)

Lazy and indifferent, actually i've got work to do, but it's just too boring so i opt to type all these meaningless words in blog. butterfly effect from lehman bros financial crisis? probably not, this office has its internal ulcer long before, but of course the situation is now "frost on the ice". there is/was earthquake in my office, this time i whine for the job, next time will i whine for not having job... too horrible to think about, for the one who needs money badly.

I always think i should be shinji in neon genesis evangelion (i like/hate him cos he is so similar to me, the useless whiner and coward) but the test said i am rei (i also don't like her, she is a "natural-born" masochist) so i do it again, just change one answer (actually i'm not sure about the answer) and the result is pen-pen, great, i love that drunk penguin.





What Neon Genesis Evangelion character are you?

this is rather depressing

Weary inside, now our heart's lost forever
Can't replace the fear, or the thrill of the chase
Each ritual showed up the door for our wanderings
Open then shut, then slammed in our face

Thought for today

O, woe is me
To have seen what I have seen
see what I see

quick note of my thought

Ex-Big Sister treated us small potatos and those no-longer-small-potatos for a dinner. It's always a pleasure to have dinner with the old folks. ex-big sis was as cool as usual, very workaholic and fastidious (still), that's why she's so successful in career, i was never directly under her so i was not as close to her like some of my other ex-colleagues. worse, i was incompetent in her eyes (well this is a fact) cos' i was always so careless and procrastinating. but i think if i was not her colleague, i may be a friend of her cos' i found she was an interesting person and very pleasant (a good boss indeed and it's very rare for a female). other old folks - well, they looked great, achieved much in terms of family life and career, good! me - still under-acheive in all terms, well, fate is decided by character, so i can never change. hmm, i think every child must have dreamt that they would be somebody one day, be a scientist, astronomer, or earn lots of money in whatsoever career ... yes, all i just said was what i thought when i was a child. dream crushed and reality bites. my childhood self must felt so disappointed had she known her future self.

present job is disgusting if not pathetic, women in office always piss me off. been gather together to "discuss" why did i become so fat recently, why did i have so many ances recently, advice and teasing, it's hard to tell.

decision can be quick, just a glimpse, just a click, i need a break.

Not waving but drowning

this city is so keen to progress
all trace of its past has to be eliminated
or at least for those days under the union jack
deconstruct and rearrange


Borrowed time, borrowed pier - Queen's Pier


Close down. Full stop. End of.

staleness

Should I opt for normality or perversity sobriety or insanity things get difficult when normality and perversity are all within this f__king banality

My own Proust's experience

Like a lightning in the dark, memories always catch you in a most
unprepared way, skip before you grasp. That is why people honoured memories as Ghosts, it's not you found them, it's they who caught and haunted you.

I walked to the pier humming that tune again, felt so frustrated as I couldn't remember the name. The only thing I know is that I used to love the song. Frustration symptoms lasted for a few days when I walked passed the pier until the ghost revealed itself. The song was called Love Letters. (phew, i don't believe i fall for that sin of banality, so it's definitely not the spell/curse of February 14). Rushed back to home to dig out the soundtrack of Blue Velvet.

A few notes of music bring the overwhelming impression of the past. I was shocked I forgot how pretty Isabella Roasellini and Kyle MacLachlan were, I was shocked I forgot the beauty of the film, violence blend with tenderness (typical David Lynch), I was shocked the film was released in 1986. Maybe I just feel a bit melancholic for the time passed.

In 1986, where were you? what were you doing? I was too young to go to see this category III film in cinema, but I was definitely shaped by abundant abnormal aesthetics.

Christmas thought

I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you

Enivrez-Vous

That is one of my most favourite poems. I feel so ecstatic to hear it recited by you.

Il faut être toujours ivre.
Tout est là:
c'est l'unique question.
Pour ne pas sentir
l'horrible fardeau du Temps
qui brise vos épaules
et vous penche vers la terre,
il faut vous enivrer sans trêve.
Mais de quoi?
De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu, à votre guise.
Mais enivrez-vous.
Et si quelquefois,
sur les marches d'un palais,
sur l'herbe verte d'un fossé,
dans la solitude morne de votre chambre,
vous vous réveillez,
l'ivresse déjà diminuée ou disparue,
demandez au vent,
à la vague,
à l'étoile,
à l'oiseau,
à l'horloge,
à tout ce qui fuit,
à tout ce qui gémit,
à tout ce qui roule,
à tout ce qui chante,
à tout ce qui parle,
demandez quelle heure il est;
et le vent,
la vague,
l'étoile,
l'oiseau,
l'horloge,
vous répondront:
"Il est l'heure de s'enivrer!
Pour n'être pas les esclaves martyrisés du Temps,
enivrez-vous;
enivrez-vous sans cesse!
De vin, de poésie ou de vertu, à votre guise."

-- Charles Baudelaire

There are many translated version. Not many of them are satisfying. I like the below version (with some of my amendments):

Always be drunk.
That's it:
That the only question!
In order not to feel
Time's horrid burden
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, as you like.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
"Time to get drunk!
Don't be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, as you like.

In place of regret were the good times we spent

If life becomes too miserable, all I need is pop songs.

Special Needs keeps playing in my headphone. I want to think of nothing.

All plans are meaningless. Something we take it for granted, we treat it as routine, we treat people as our daily backdrop, we do not really listen to them, or talk to them.

I do not have good relation with my father. We are like strangers. I am his less favourite child. I do mind of this kind of preference but I am not feeling hatred now. I am not a good daughter too.

Never like the building called hospital, (who will like it?) it's so dark and cold in the midnight. There were baby's crying, human's groaning, unknown machine's bleeping.

I am so fatigued, physically, mentally.

1 Sept - Back to School Again

No. That's not a matter for me anymore, but I really want to say it, just to pretend that I'm a student. That's the cliche that we only value the things we no longer have. I saw many Form One - ers this morning, clumsy and nervous, some with their parents, cutie little things! I bet they do not feel the joy like I do. I remember the horrid feeling at the beginning of school term, especially if that was the first year to secondary school - the oversize school uniform looked so ugly on my skinny body (yeah, I was once skinny), my hairdo was disastrous , schoolbag was so heavy and obsolete, everything was just not right, out of time and out of place, while strangers were everywhere .... (given my crap social skill, it's still the same but strangers is not a big problem for me now, I tend to ignore them and live inside my head). I was not bright nor lovable, the faceless dumb in class waiting for the end of lessons so that she could go to Mongkok to find any new issue of depeche mode. Past challenge is the most easiest so I can now look back with a smile.

Well I probably will have this fond feeling towards my work when I work no more (wow, that wll be the end of the world - hands stop, month stops, save and except I win mark six).

Farewell, soldiers

disappointed and heartbreaking.