the madcap laughs

2007-09-29T01:00:00.001-07:00

i want this. but with three tips. and maybe in black and red. anyone want to make me one, or at least tell me where to get it?

2007-09-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

there are so many ways to jump
the place between inhalation and exhalation
the exchange the shift the transition
the transition
the transition
high up in the air somewhere
between up and down
the up can be much greater than the down
or the other way round
leaping up a stone wall
jumping out of a skyscraper
euphoria takes over
while suspending in the air
the place of zero velocity
i feel grounded like a stone
that split second when i do not move
yet there is a history and an intention
the transition
moment i see so clearly where to go
exact same moment i see if i can make it
there are just two ways to jump really
two directions
either up
or down

2007-08-25T12:31:00.000-07:00

no sleep. no desire to sleep. no desire to do anything nor to sleep. no desire to even try to do anything nor to sleep. no desire to even try to do anything to improve the situation nor to simply sleep. no desire to improve the situation nor to simply sleep. desire to the situation to simply sleep. to simply sleep. to simply sleep without being worried. to simply go to sleep without being worried about future obstacles. to simply forget about the world and go to sleep without being worried about obstacles. forget about the world and go to sleep without obstacles. forget about the world which is not yours and go to sleep without it. forget about the world which is not yours when all the people go to sleep without you. forget about the world which is not exactly something you can hide from because all the people sleep without you. about the world which is without you. the world is without you. without you there is not even a single bit of difference.

according to the lunar calendar today should be the day when the gates of hell is open and ghosts, spirits and whatnot will be roaming around up here. karma means something to them so being stuck in hell probably is not anything fun i guess.

they sing about a different tune but i never heard that tune.

cheese. cheese is strange. look at cream chesese, cottage cheese, feta and havarti. they are all chesses? come on. suddenly a voice in my head murmured, 'look at ol'george w., maradona, mao and yourself. you are all humans? come on.'

oh, oh, i got a good one.
whoever says this usually has driven the expectations too high. no matter how good the one is, telling someone your joke is going to be funny makes the best joke less than half as good. look- 'he made everything, he can do everything, he knows everything, he loves everyone, he helps everyone, he forgives everyone.' that sounds almost better than saying 'i got a good one. just wait till you hear about it. ready?'

no offense though.

answer my question. maybe instead of asking the others for answers, i should look for them myself.

the fuck i am talking about?
no. don't answer. i will look for the answer myself.

i will go on a contemplative hike in the woods. there will be a lot of trees and tweeting birds. a path will not be there but most places are accessible by foot. the hike will take a very long time. i will keep walking for years and years and i will grow old and still in search all these years. leaves will fall on me and rain will wet me. when i am sad mother nature will bring me lots of snowflakes to cheer me up. deers will hop around me. and i will sit down when my energy has depleted after the ninety-nine years of the contemplative hike in search of the answer. and soon i will keep walking on. during the short break i will grow feathers on my arm and they will become very strong. this is because mother nature knows i am too old and my legs are too tired. so she decided she will give me a lift. at first i will not be used to this because i have been a land creature all the ninety-nine years plus one year of the sitting break. but i will learn how to use the feathers properly. i will try my best to learn fast if i have to. i will glide along the lines of rainbows and i will take deers to the sky. but i will always remind myself of the real reason of the trip. i will always keep looking for the answer myself. i will always say to myself 'see that you do not go off the real track.' and one day i will be exhausted again. i will look down on the earth from high up the sky. and i will fly very close to the sun so my feathers will all fall off. this will let me go back to the ground. while falling i will ask mother nature to hold me in her arms so i do not have to go on my search anymore. it is because i will have no arms and no legs to use by then. most probably the sun will blind my eyes so i will not see anything. the burning feather will clog my nose so i will not smell anything. my ear drums will also break when i go high up in the sky so i will not hear anything. the heat will dry my throat so i will not say nor taste anything. then i will know the answer.

a wave goodbye

2007-08-14T08:14:00.000-07:00

six little boys all six on fire
one with a halo one has broken wings
one disfigured one rather yellow
two are twins they are indeed
one will stay with me and all others free

that pile of broken messages
did not even get a chance
to reject to help with the wings
do not care what they say
see it with your own eyes
three eyes that are blind but will not turn

three red spirals spin deeper and further
into the heart of the eye
sixty four squares with seven pens
hop and shift places whenever nobody looks
endless noise with sixty one keys
three or four at a time or two or five or six

while my Nuoerosaurus chaganensis is obviously uninterested
my Dilophosaurus sinensis shouts at my Jinfengopteryx elegans
my Jinfengopteryx elegans yaks back at my Dilophosaurus sinensis
acting like one of those families those family-plus-one families
going at it since i brought them here

scratch marks on the hardwood floor
somebody was digging a desperate way out
with what still is a mystery
they all blamed it on the broken chair
always wondered if it feels any different
going out of a room through the wooden door
and through the glass window

there is someone to look forward to
so no glass windows no wooden doors
it is not much better outside the wooden door
just the same as outside the glass window
once again i draw my own door another door
yet another door through its gap i slip
without even waving goodbye
really i could not care less

2007-08-13T11:13:00.000-07:00

Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Ludwig van Beethoven, Diego Maradona, Charlie Chaplin, Benjamin Franklin, Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein? All lefties. So am I.

Happy International Lefties' day.

i miss snow.

2007-08-09T03:03:00.002-07:00

2007-08-09T00:47:00.000-07:00

soon enough summer's going to end. there was a list i made up before summer and i wrote what i planned to accomplish during the inferno months. funny how nothing ever sticks to the plan. at least when it comes to stuff which is not a matter of life and death.

things that could have been done were started in a direction not so ideal so i picked another, and it was less far from expected but the real enlightenment came about 10 sessions after i actually started everything. maybe tom waits enlightened me actually. always remember, there is a difference between knowing it but not realizing you do and realizing you know it. amateur mistake. if i would have started it as something i actually want to accomplish instead of something to do in order to kill time it would have worked.

even mother nature can tell that. i used to get about everything i want from her. whenever snow is wanted badly enough snow will come. and the occasional sunshine wanted will usually be granted. here comes the problem- there has been no real rainstorms so far all summer. well one is supposed to be coming (or we are supposed to be in the middle of it) but, not what i have in mind. she gives only when you mean it. and don't think about taking it for the sake of taking it. it is mother nature you are dealing with.

all the wheels feet
short hair for men
and concrete stacks
flowing down the stream
babble rattle
babble rattle
somewhere labeled home
by unfamiliar eyes
everything is a big
icy glass of soda pop
children's favourite
in summer time
not a tooth's
for your information
even oxygen is toxic
put an oyster in vinegar
sure in vinegar it opens
it better does
and here comes the prize
the pearl is all that matters
the hollow eyes all wanted
the pearl of the pearl
vinegar is good
sour, packed, even bitter
and we all know
that there are no peals
of the pearl
icarus knew
the heat would melt his wings
he knew it
i know he did.

also think twice before eating your next bowl of shark fin soup. tom waits makes me want to smoke and drink in a couch in the middle of a raging snowstorm.

2007-07-30T12:55:00.000-07:00

see that gust of powder far from red or golden. gullies and gullies of eyes jittery. all being pulled at once from all six directions in all dimensions. three petals and a sword they widen, widen and still widen. the expanding spiral majestic green-and-orange striped ray of sound, pigments spilling out between the teeth- tiny transparent hairs. each of them indulge in any colour they like. three of them, two hundred sixty four of them. vibrant smell of rosewood behind the snow dripping off each and every lash. bottomlessly brown bodies, slow and elegant- fluid and strong, light, very light. impossibly light. a step offbeat, a hop right on the next. the hair dyed green this time by an invisible army of invisible invisibles. crackles. ten thousand, ten ten thousand, ten ten thousand thousand ten old record player. flowery but brown horns crackling. very horny. he sobbed rather being a miserable something the not-so-miserable miserable would choose being nothing instead, like a gust of transparent powder. nothing transparent is ever really transparent. water, glass, crystal. crystals just have to include a slight fine touch of personality in their craft of shape shifting. indecisively confused about what to be. always in between, looking like a pair of wild wings soaring in the sky, merely looking like. at least they can look like anything without not looking like themselves anymore. the blind eyes always have a preset, default for how things should look like regardless of what they are actually made of. not even the blind eye. hearts, clubs, diamonds. and spades. a heart, a black heart upside down, stuck on a stick. a war? an assassination? an accident? maybe the owner deserved it. the lust to be a hero, to perform the act of justice the act of cleansing the act of guessing who has the black, rotten heart. the black heart always comes out in the end, from one or another. fool proof plan really. the striped kitten lays its innocent paws on something. a dirty thief. tappity tappity trippty klick. someone is tap dancing along the corridor about the castle. the corridor with water and the spade got the black fish. what a mistake to watch life like a black and white movie, it plays fine, it crackles still, it rises and sets, but red becomes dark grey almost black. the river hound's arsenal of ivory grinders. ivory rams step back and the rubies shine the colour of flesh. of lust. of desire. for anything. for pride for honour for instinct. the black fish is not black and the horny rams now bathe in the ribbons of wine. everything is forming a helix with the closest thing it can find. the black fish is red but ivory is now black. there is always a spade dealt in a game.

2007-07-29T09:18:00.000-07:00

rare has one witnessed such
a lukewarm stale red ocean
swelling under the setting sun
to land blows the pungent breeze

ivory decks creep along
thousands of sharp black oars
penetrate mercilessly
quietly silently a frenzy

the young beetles are hatching
deep in the heart of the ocean
we all adore the yellow submarines
the underwater explorers

the gluttonous maggots
gnawing the seconds away
paddle and so paddle on
sailing to the other world

look me in the eye,

2007-07-24T10:38:00.000-07:00

and say, 'i would not miss you.'

am i making any sense?

p.s. how does the eye look, regardless of the bad technology.

2007-07-16T22:41:00.000-07:00

another recurring dream. i knew it was going to be a recurring one since the first time i dreamt of it. i remember it too well that it is not possible that i have/will only dream it once.

they are almost always the same in terms of the order of the venues. a tiny, narrow shopping mall of 3 stories, a zebra crossing where everyone from the mall has to take in order to really leave the district- except me, the dark and wide upward slope i always chose to take instead of the crossing- after the slope there was a fenced area, of the size of a car park roughly, then a building of about five stories, dark red at night-somewhat orange when lit, which is the dream's destination.

the malls all looked the same, it has been empty once, it has also been mad crowded or zombie-like drones infested. none could seem to see me i think. every time i was trying to get the heck out of the mall. i just felt like i had to- even though i had not bought anything even. the empty mall was fully in business, that was the strange thing; everyone in that packed mall was trying to go the exact opposite direction as i was, seemingly running away from something outside the mall; and in the zombie mall nothing was in business but yet people window(metal gate) shop and try to buy this and that. i think i always somehow woke up in that mall. i have dreamt of shopping malls a few times this summer- i never liked malls too much i have to say, especially those packed ones. there was a person who could see me from that mall of drones on the way out, and he was speaking in mandarin to me. i asked in cantonese why and he switched to cantonese. strange how my dreams have become a language cocktail. i heard and spoke others later on.

sometimes the crossing was empty but loaded with people waiting for that eternal red light to turn green so they can cross, sometimes it was simply empty, well lit, with a green light on but looking way too normal and safe. sometimes it is just in normal working order with normal people flow. that vaguely reminds me of a part of the street somewhere near where i live in hong kong. i had a night of drinking and got off the bus not knowing where i am because i thought i saw the building i live in- apparently there are a lot of look alikes. so i was walking for a bit and thought i should find a dark place and take a nap... and i did. after an hour or two i woke up, wasn't robbed. first thing i saw was that zebra crossing lit by the dim, yellow street lights. i always thing it is there i saw in the dream.

anyhow i always end up taking the other path which no matter how no one takes- that dark, upward slope. a strangely safe and warm feeling whenever i passed there. i think i should not feel that way but it happened to be a pleasant feeling. alone in the dark, walking upwards and not really knowing what is over the top- the best part of the recurring thriller- also the worst part knowing the cliché of the silence before storms. in the middle of the slope appeared the fenced area on the side. there are usually a flock of unexpected things locked up in there, animals, plants that move, people, cars, all identical. never bothered to walk towards the gate but one time i did. there were two people amongst the cars- the guy who spoke to me in mandarin and another mysterious guy. i told one of them to click their car-lock thing at random directions and the car that beeps is his. and i told another in english to get out of there safe and a couple other things about what i saw in the mall.

that wasn't the storm of course. the real storm was when i saw the dark red building. there was a bush by the front door and i swear i will not get close to that bush no matter what. there must be something inside- come on, late night, bush next to your front door? sometimes stray dogs popped out of the bush and i ran towards the front door, yelling at the windows begging one of them to tell me the code to unlock the door, i didn't remember if that worked. probably not. sometimes i push the doorbell and my cell would ring and was told that i am not allowed in anymore, and then random babies and kids will appear, first fiddling me as a huge plush toy then started eating me for some reasons. or even stranger, like last night, a huge meteor headed towards me and i woke up.

gigantic, red hot meteor.

2007-07-15T05:24:00.000-07:00

what happens when your own amulet does not work? or maybe it is working- nothing is going too well as always, but nothing especially wrong is happening either. the pleasant vanished as expected but days still have to be lived. i would rather like to believe that the shiny coin has been protecting me from the wrongs. but all that remains now is void. days have become simple. so simple that the life of a plankton is painted with more vibrant colours. enjoyable, leisure days are never simple. take a walk in pleasant weather, chat with people you like, a cup of nice coffee, make your own meal. whatever. but not so simple that nothing happens, nothing can happen.

blame me for the lack of incentive. days and days of waking up late, madly helplessly switching between maniac enthusiasm for strange ideas projects and objects which will be failed in one way or another and desperation resulted from failure and oppression of uncontrollable but irresistible inner rage nowhere to be spent. that is bound to make someone mad in one way or another. but days still really have to be lived. nothing is stranger than keep having to return to a place which you never knew and having to stay for months with people whom you are supposed to know- and you know you do not anymore.

sitting in my concrete box after meal time, after with all my power trying not to pick a fight with anyone or anything i hear and see, i hear a quartet performing a song. not the kind of song i enjoy but a complete, rich piece of composition. i just had another confirmation on how far i have grown out of those voices barely five metres away from me after all these years.

i cup my hands and put them together, tips of ring fingers barely touching, palms facing myself. there is a little crack between the two little fingers. going through that tiny fracture of space and time is the only way to disappear as i wish. no one knows how exactly it is behind the doorway, no one has ever come back- or maybe no one has ever succeed. even if anyone has, with a little help from the goddess herself, no two other sides are the same. staying on this side is fine, i am going to make it one way or another, but given the chance anybody would escape- try to disappear. there is no reason why one would reject the idea of moving to the hollow centre of the world permanently. i found the pathway right there between my palms- the one to the centre of my world. i could even smell it. the smell of the sea, of the forests, of the mountains, of the lakes, of the excitement, of the fear, of the madness of the other side. forcing through the itsy bitsy crack, eyes closed and the next thing i felt was my forehead on the corner of a cupboard.

being dry for two days is one of the excuse i come up with.

my heart cries when i see pictures of narwhals and belugas.

2007-07-11T09:51:00.000-07:00

if i get to choose.
can i be the corpse whale next game?
narhval-the narwhal.
lady 'round the harpoon

if you get to choose.
can i be the white whale next round?
white beluga
narwhal's lonely brother

but they never get to choose.
stop killing unneccessarily
not only
monodontidae

my heart cries
when i see pictures of
narwhals and belugas
i don't know why
they did nothing wrong
except being
too attractive
too rare
too special
too mythological
too gorgeous
too arctic
too vulnerable

2007-07-08T06:55:00.000-07:00

in there you begin to lose the sense of time, the sense of creativity, the sense of reality, the sense of everything. everything that happens happens as if it has never happened while things never happened happens as if it has indeed happened. day and night seem to be the same state of mind, so is fast and slow. step on the floor, on where you would like to believe the floor is- it is that or about 100 meters of void between the closest thing beneath- step on the floor and it melts. the air is thickened by abandoned hopes. the smell of dying wishes outlined by rusty red trails on the plain white walls- ah, almost, almost still alive that there is a pinch of pleasantness in the scent, almost a scent, in the, stench.

you see, 'there' has become a place where it does not matter, in fact it does not matter where like mosquitoes matter not in the eyes of bears, or salmon in frogs'. it is just there. one goes in there, not on, not out of, also into. silky trees- in fact they are wrapped around by silky tears, blue silky tears of different shades depending on the occasion and reason. tiny broken dolls find their peace of mind, but never of their bodies on the floor where he looks for his piece of mind. deep green canvas jacket and bright orange trousers- a few pieces of cellophane here and there, the dolls were once not what you think they are. people were always once not what you think they are, so were things. in there the soft, melting ground sparkles, a grossly abundant mine of jewels- how explosive, tears of fairies and pixies. and time, it is when the concept of almost becomes almost so useful that it is almost indispensable. time has almost stopped. there sits time on top of his little sand dune of philosophical contemplations, burning life away fueling his heart-aching troubles, dragging everything else down- dragging everything else stationary, at least, maybe not down.

the universe does not go in one straight line, even if it does one has the feeling it does not. pacing here and there, back and forth, up and down, left and right, to and from, in and on the same space hoping the fabric might be torn at some point on the line, the route, the track and something, anything even almost, almost like nothing would be different, all different. walking here and there, back and forth, up and down, left and right, to and from, in and on the same space hoping the fabric might be torn at some point on the line, the track and something, anything even almost, almost like nothing would be different, all different. walking here and there, back and forth, left and right, up and down, to and from, in and on the same space hoping the fabric might be torn at some point on the line, and something, anything even almost, almost like nothing would be different, all different. i think i have found my answer to that.

i remember seeing a vortex, a real one on paper. i liked that vortex because it was a product of intriguing frustration, an involuntary expression of affinity towards another bigger vortex in a box. nonetheless an irregular one just like 'there'. it was even labeled vortex just to be sure. in the vortex there are scary fishes as gifts but it does not matter. it was a good vortex and the scary fishes are actually quite cute. on my right hand bad vortices do not produce eggs like hens nor mammals. and life has become a vortex within a forest of metal fan blades. whirl, whirl creep, whirl thud, yak, whirl kaboom, crack crawl float, camera finger, sizzling mechanical chowder with clams and broccoli. that about how the vortex sounds like from within, deep within as if this is what the centre, the heart of the vortex- the vortex itself will hear. at least that's what i heard.

2007-07-04T23:50:00.000-07:00

the heat is still here but the dreaming is gone. escaping and forgetting myself, immersed in a synthesized world seem to be my first priority these days. lapses between lapsing into lapses from lapsing back to reality are the most painful. the touch of nothingness becomes so strong i switch mode automatically once my consciousness is conscious. music seem to possess a therapeutic value recently even more than that of before. detachment-escapist is a sacred and risky occupation. visualizing sounds is by far my favourite method nowadays when anything else is scarce. seeing everything around you fade into a blast of sand in all and no colours, deforming and reforming into pictures, objects, sounds, feelings, mindsets. what more can one ask for? i looked into the mirror when i woke up this morning and it took me more than a second to recognize who i was looking at. i smelled the stale air in the apartment when i recognized who i was this afternoon and it took me more than five minutes to recognize the smell of fried eggs. i looked at the person who came into my room and handed me something to eat and it took me more than a second to recognize that person is my mother. i looked at my room turn into a explosion of rainbows with a grey overtone and it took me no time to find the best comfort ever. another lapse. wooden tiles curl and bend like earthworms. an army of earthworms marching crawling diagonally across the apartment towards me when the crowd claps and cheers. plastic cords turn into chords in their image form and slowly builds up into an ecosystem of itself. somewhat reminiscent of my depiction of the early earth. i looked into the mirror again. i see no bars wielded across my eyes and that confuses me. leaned against those bars a mere ten minutes ago and the mirror told me they are not there. someone told me there is no fun staring at a blank wall. i told someone watching the wall turn from white to glowing yellow as it disintegrates into a pile of mud and hardens as a storm of sledge hammer rages from the heaven below is not fun indeed but it is better than staring at the wall.

plus i do all these when i am completely sober. i dare you to do it like me. the hardest part is not being caught. start running. now.

my watch stopped

2007-07-03T19:49:00.000-07:00

my watch stopped again because i don't wear it enough. its battery runs on light so it stops if i don't wear and look at it. i have my excuse though. i never had to wear a watch during classes before summer (or the situation simply does not allow). and it is really hot to wear a rather heavy watch with a metal band in summer, and i rarely go out anyway. just to find another excuse to make myself feel less guilty for my rather significant and important watch, my right wrist has been fairly handicapped for about 3 weeks now- as a lefty my watch stays on my right wrist so it does not get in my way when i am doing more important things. ouch. my tongue hurts.

there is always something else more important unless your watch is the only thing around. time is something rationed so perfectly well that there should always be a tiny little bit reserved for the watch once in a while if circumstances allow, and only when you really, really need it. but when things happen, they always need more than expected and time for the watch is automatically rescheduled. watches are not really exciting individuals- walking in circles is the only thing they do when you pay attention. but when you do not... they try to speed up or slow down, just to be more interesting in case someone has the rare spare second. trying and managing are not quite the same though. desperate attempts have been carried out in the history of time. it is known to actively desperately try getting into the spot light, also known to simply refuse working. in most cases such watches are abandoned or replaced with something better and easier to deal with. there are, of course, also watches which humans acquire to display, caged animals at the zoo- those are referred as trophy watches by some. if a person owns a watch it is almost always worn. the watch goes wherever the person goes, doing whatever is important at the time, quietly awaits that second of its life. they know that the watch will always be on that one out of two wrists, no matter what. the sky, the ground and the earth will always be here, figuratively speaking. maybe we should as well stop being bothered to look at those- or maybe we did already. watches wait for that occasional second just to inform humans of time- so that humans know how to spend time better, on more important things of course. staring at watches is no interesting activity- but they certainly do deserve more attention from us busy beings. at least my watch does deserve more attention from me, even though it is too hot and heavy for spring and summer and i am too busy for it in fall and winter.

don't forget to say hello and ask how your watch is getting on from time to time- not only when you need to know about time. now i have to figure out a way to get my watch running again- just for your information, it is not even telling the right time. i have no idea in which time zone my watch has been living, most probably canadian but you never know, especially with my paraphernalia. they all live a life of their own, following a set of their own rules. belonging to me is just a cover up or a compromise designed by them in order to exist and live rather freely in our world without being exposed and noticed. hey there is a price for everything you do.

i think coffee really makes your brain go funny. i was talking about my watch! what do i care? a lot of coffee actually. i had the sudden urge to put on my caveman coat and have 5 mugs of instant coffee, collecting and rearranging random things around the apartment, pacing back and forth. and i think the effect is carried over from last night- the coffee was actually not that long ago. if drinking is joysailing aimlessly at sea until you are sunken by a storm or a monster; coffee, lots of coffee, is like riding my usual train of thought but without the already deranged tracks until the wheels fall off. i think i found another meaning for the word joyriding.

but lots of coffee definitely gives you some form of hangover the next morning.

by the way during the evening news yesterday, i was told by the television (which always tells the truth) that 1 out of 5 people in hong kong suffers from bipolar disorder, so they estimate.

hear that? lunch! see? there are always exits of sorts in/conveniently positioned right in front of you.

2007-07-01T07:22:00.000-07:00

lakkal moyak zzan whiool butukap azam. kh' zzan azam lak ogu haqvyak- hess lak moyak ogu qvpr'? hess lak tayak miean khuni? lak hm' ogu. sikap lak qvyak lilm susukap hiprakyak lak. maam ve ma qvyak lak moyak brliskehkap. a. lak moyak.

maam haqvyak ogu haqvyak lak?
lak qvyak ogu.

seriously.

2007-06-29T10:35:00.000-07:00

there was a penguin. 'penguins don't fly', so he heard, 'at least not here where penguins are.' a penguin was dying to fly, to try to fly. 'not here.' 'not here it is then,' thought a penguin, 'it is not a good place to fly, here where penguins are.' some other penguins thought they fly. for fun or for real, they thought they do. stumbled to the top of the hill, tummies foreplaying with the ice. the rubbing became faster and faster, faster and faster. stiff and long, a final penetration into the intense moisture. they thought this was it. 'so let them think it is then,' thought a penguin, 'it is not a good place, here where penguins are.' so a diamond was where a penguin was. 'how did you get here,' wondered a penguin and a diamond. 'how did i get here,' wondered both. sixty and six thousand feet under, together buried. a broken diamond, a broken penguin, a broken wish and a broken wish.

a star follows an orbit. most of the stars follow orbits. all stars follow orbits. no. only most. some stars do not even move. like a sun, worshiped by thousands and loathed by one and the only one itself. endlessly, almost endlessly pinned at one spot having so much rage, love and hate to let go of. but. worse than a stone bedded in soil, a sun is bedded in nothing yet it moves not. so a penguin sailed. flipper, feet, flipper, feet, gasp, flipper, feet.

it was going to rain. a penguin did not see the sun anymore. the cloud was lowering to a point where it all became ridiculous. an albatross. a penguin wanted to fly like an albatross. flipper, rock, feet, rock, blood, gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp, flipper, rock, head, rock, feet, blood, gasp, gasp, flipper, feet, rock, blood, blood, bloogasp, cliff edge. a sun did not like icarus. but a penguin's wish was granted. a stone was set on the sling. there it went, high up in the blues, among the whites, towards the black and spotty. so a star followed an orbit. a star and an orbit danced. a star followed. a star loved. a star could not care less in the end. about six hundred and six thousand years later a penguin a star left. quite a record- it usually takes perpetual eternity. cruising in the spotty black, breaking in the misty and burning, a penguin burnt.

shattered, the pieces found each other slowly. over the fences, under the pavement, across the borders, above the sewage. tight, buried deep in the weather. tightened even more for seventy thousand years a penguin which wanted to fly is afterall the same as an icarus with real wings, and what is the difference between those and a star that follows no orbits and a diamond buried six and six and six more feet under waiting to deplete or be found, whichever comes first. more pressure and a metamorphosis. uncanny nutrients for a seed eaten by a penguin before it wanted to fly. a seed which made the desire to fly so vivid, so unreignable . nobody cried for a burnt penguin but rain. a seed deep in the soil, a diamond turned nutrients, a drop of unsympathetic tear.

the black orchid with blue veins and red stems. how did you get here?

2007-06-15T09:48:00.000-07:00

i cannot write.

2007-06-05T09:06:00.000-07:00

back in asia
in hong kong
here
up here
up

temperature up
humidity up
wet
very wet
sweat

2007-05-14T10:44:00.000-07:00

if life is not exciting enough for you all, try losing your passport on a forest trail on an island and not doing much about it (remember I am flying in 2 weeks). well the university called me this morning saying that the police picked it up. so i gotta go to that island again...

that was rather exciting to be honest.

another

2007-05-04T15:19:00.000-07:00

it was never performed but it was the process to another monologue that i performed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kate said something about skyscrapers... something like that, but instead of hitting planes, just keep flying upwards until, well, until.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'truth' (one of the thousand versions i wrote.)

the middle of a circle. standing in the middle of a circle has never been a pleasant thing. it reminds me of her. you won't want to know. nobody wants to know how it really is, that is why she has always been in the middle. in fact she asked for it. it looked like a craving, a dependence, an addiction. nobody else wants to know how it really is, that is why nobody else has ever asked. you can almost smell the blood before it begins, i could smell the blood before it began. i knew her.

the familiar smell of sweat. of the same crowd. of the same place. the smell has filled up every single smallest corner of the circle. for years, for decades people have been waiting. waiting for it. waiting for her. waiting for an answer. it terrifies the people. it transforms into whatever shape they fear and it pleases, like a monster, a demon, the devil. she terrifies the people even more. she asks for the devil.

the first thing she said was 'i'll buy all your truth with the stones i have.' 'stone me.' was the second thing she said. she even brought the rubies herself. at first no one knew what she meant except me. her voice pierced through the smell of the crowd and hit me. the vibration, the shiver went straight down my spine, my ribs, my lungs and my heart. a traveler hears his mother tongue racing through the marketplace into his ear in a land faraway. suddenly everything else became unimportant- the truth was i thought i knew what she wanted- my eyes took my fingers to the ground, to the ring of rubies, ring of burning stones, of beating hearts she made for us. all of us.

a blood red ruby caught my eye and my hand caught it. i could not help it- it looked just like a heart. i have seen one before but everyone thought i was lying. a fist was raised above the crowd. a fist with blood all over it. a murderer's fist. the fist swung a perfect curve and slung the red ruby. the crowd divided and i felt like moses. she captured me. with her visions, with her breath, with her smile. somehow she knew i would be her first. i started to sweat, to feel nauseous, scared, excited, aroused. every step i made towards her felt heavier and heavier. i had a life and a thousand pairs of eyes on me. 'hit me with your truth' she said.

it is not that bad actually. you ask for it and you usually get it- that is if you really ask. people try their best not to hang onto it. nobody wants it really. their most vicious cancers, deepest scars, darkest nightmares. my most vicious cancers, deepest scars, darkest nightmares. i sold her my truth and in return everybody gets to be vulnerable and strong at the same split second. i told her that i remember i had a girl's life and a thousand pairs of eyes on me and the girl said 'hit me with your truth'. i did and i felt like god. no one thought i could do it. the sky turned red. the sun was setting. she took a deep breath and roared. 'it was me who killed the girl when you all were watching.' the sky turned more red. she turned red. her hair her face her eyes her lips her naked body her fingers her chest her belly her thighs her knees her feet her toes. her rubies and her became one.

'hit me with the truth.' every time i tell the truth i had such a feeling. strange. maybe that is what it really is, not a demon, not the devil, but to have a life and a thousand pairs of eyes watching your every single hair on your naked body. a life which truly believes in you that the truth is indeed the truth. so precious that i took the heart shaped ruby home and washed all the blood off. a granite pebble can never be a ruby after a cold tap water bath.

the trill of truth and lie is the most adorable note in our symphony. if there are no lies truth is merely a futile word. we lied but i did not. i told them the truth.

a piece of unpolished marble

2007-04-26T14:40:00.000-07:00

i wear boots. heavy
steel toes. they are so heavy
that i have to drag my legs
forward.

so that when i take them off in the studio i can fly and soar in the sky.

it's a training for my dream.
to differentiate the distinctive feelings
between standing and flying.
between safely grounded and
freely soaring.

i feel safe with my boots.
in the studio and in the theatre i don't need my boots

because it's one of the rare
places that i feel completely safe in, even if it's a place of unknown. i think
that's what makes me feel safe.

wild horse. harness.
why did jesus carry the cross all the way to the top?
not because they made him, because by the time
he is taken off the cross he'll be strong and feel light enough to
float all the way back up to heaven.

that's what my boots do for me.

ahoj.

2007-04-19T00:19:00.000-07:00

again it's been long. random writings during the past few months soon coming.

now, summer's resolution. yes.

A:
1. get a job.
or
B:
1. perform in a play.
2. finish 20 songs.
3. write a play.
4. keep up with my trainings.

it is not going to work i know, lists/plans never work for me.
i personally prefer list B.

it's been long.

2007-03-23T00:37:00.001-07:00

a pair of matching socks. such a foreign concept. matching socks. every morning with blurred vision, nausea and the

spinning world a skeleton palm reaches into the closet hoping to find two clean socks. i thought i will never find a pair of

matching socks. i thought chance never wanted me to find a pair of matching socks. the deep pink and grey stripes on both

feet. such a strange sight. a homolateral sight. something that should never exist in my world. something that has never

existed in my world. laying down sideways, blood draining away from heart- something was going to happen. something magical,

something miraculous, something mortally terrifying, something wrong. it reminds me of pilates. it reminds me of roxanne.

two stramlined fish swimming in a pond. one with pink and grey stripes, the other identical. how dare they be the same.

suddenly a bullet darted in between my eye brows and spins my world apart. powerful, passionate tango playing in my head- not

the kind of music that ripples the tiniest ripple of attraction in the pond. they found each other. relentless, remorseless,

reckless caressing. the sound of exhaust fan storms the eye of the living room- the eye of the storm is the stage for the

performers of chance. of fate. of... there is always one in the air. one could learn to keep two in the air. the more

talented and persistent manage three, four, five, maybe six. six. six. two matching socks and six in the air, one end a

gorgeously erotic tango the other end a dynamic polka. such an image does not ring any bells. bells of doors, bells of

goats, bells of masters, bells of churches. each time a bell rings a tear is shed and dropped and wiped and forgotten. to

forget. forget, forgot, forgotten. to forget is a hope, to forgot is a wish, to have forgotten is a tragedy. to be

forgetting... to be forgetting is everything that has pink and grey stripes. the zebras prance, the zebras dance. a strange

harmony of the living and the dead. sweet, fresh pink and stale, frozen grey flesh. the harmony between a C and an F sharp.

what harmony. such a foreign concept.

time.

2007-02-15T12:53:00.000-08:00

i've been busy.

very busy.
with myself,
with classes,
with theatre.

the more i spend time doing black box theatre which is one of my classes, the more i .. i don't even know. nothing bad i would say. at least nothing bad in the long run.

yesterday's rehearsal was a day to remember.

i felt strange to be so honest to people whom i actually barely know.
i would like to have even cried but i just couldnt get myself to do it- even though i really wanted to.

about time i start standing up straight and stop asking to be screwed in the ass.
if i still know how to.

keep it inside for days and years. no crime so awful that can be compared to that. one day the door has to open and it has to go out. would it be able to fly again?

finally

2007-01-07T14:36:00.000-08:00

sometimes i wonder if i should ban anonymous comments.

yes i am back to canadaland and i have been seriously sick. now that i am better and school's starting tomorrow. not that i have a lot to talk about at the moment actually. this time i have around 23 hours of class each week, excluding out-of-class rehearsals and meetings- even though i am only registered with 12 credits. can't wait to order the contemporary arts sweater with the slogan 'a thousand hours, three credits'.

or something like that.

2006-12-15T17:07:00.000-08:00

i am indeed still alive.
while i should be having my holiday in europe i had to go back to hong kong for a few days. in fact i am still stuck here until tomorrow morning and hopefully i will be back in europe without dying of jetlag.

flight to europe was hectic. i did something silly and the airline companies lost my bag. i had all my clothes in it. well, not ALL but nearly everything. way to go clever boy. it was basically me forgetting to put a tag on my bag so at the self check in so that none would actually know it is my bag. i ran around in vancouver airport and they told me they found it and it will go to basel where i ultimatelly should be. then of course the backpack didnt come. first they said at the lost n found that it will come within 24 hours usually. underline usually please. then they said it will appear within 4 weeks usually and the backpack will either send to basel or vancouver, depends where i am going to be. i am still about to ask for money from the company because my untagged bag incident is not really on paper anywhere, no one will remember it anyway. so they lost it. hey i am a poor student and i lost all my clothes. what else could i do? i at least need 50 bucks to get some clothes at value village when i go back to vancouver, dont i now?

after that i gotta take a train to zuerich and a flight to dubai and hong kong. here i am now and well i am alive and that is about all i can tell. probably i should get some clothes here too as i have a whole afternoon having nothing to do.

i guess i am kind of ok.

2006-12-12T01:02:00.000-08:00

i am doing alright and alive. things are hectic but hey, life is too.

untitled

2006-12-01T21:28:00.000-08:00

drank a bottle of wine
in a cold winter night
think it's gonna be fine
but i got in a fight

oh why oh why did that happen
ask me and i'll say i dunno
bacon and eggs in the morning
and i never skip class

took some shots of water
in a cold winter day
think it's gonna be fine
but i fell on the street

oh why oh why did that happen
ask me and i'll say i dunno
water and something else together
makes my favourite drink

crashed in a strange place
in a so very strange room
think i'm gonna wake up
but i slept and i spept

i slept and i slept
i slept and i slept
and kurt i saw kurt
and kurt i saw kurt.

2006-11-30T03:11:00.000-08:00

got a call from across the sea
at half past two in the morning
woke me up from my dreams
the voice said

she's gone to sleep
she's gone to sleep

now a voice from inside my head
at half past two in the morning
kept me up from my dreams
the voice said

in all these years
where the fuck have you been

put the straw on the camel's back
at half past two in the morning
break it down on the ground
the camel said

i'm goin' to sleep
i'm goin' to sleep

about time to whine

2006-11-29T22:43:00.000-08:00

sometimes it is just too much. doing something that i find completely not engaging is just way too much, at this time of the year. ask me to do that during winter break and i will probably not mind at all, just to kill time and keep myself from slacking too much.

it's like an audience saying 'i think it is interesting' and then at the same time throwing an apple in flames at me when i'm juggling a 3-ball shower with heavy rocks. i cannot handle it. not even if it is just another ball. the apple is just going to distract me from the rocks. imagine that, rocks falling on my toes, apple setting me on fire and i'll see you on the dark side. i guess that is interesting indeed.

it's like an emperor saying 'i know you aren't born to do this but i still want you to, because i think it is interesting for you' and then asking the court musician to extract gold from bronze.

i wonder how i am going to make it right.
i kept telling myself it is gonna be alright.
it's gonna be alright, gonna be alright.
cause when i say it's gonna be alright, it will always be.
but maybe this time i've lost my magical power.
maybe this time the snow came too early.
maybe this time it is just not gonna be alright.
maybe this time i will find out i have just been pretty darn lucky before.
or
maybe it's really gonna be alright again.
at least i hope so.

actually i'm too tired to whine properly.

She will if i shine.

2006-11-19T19:16:00.000-08:00

Characters:
MOON
STAR
PYROMANIAC- a grotesque figure with red and grotesquely long left arm and leg but lame [or even missing] right limbs, the right half of the face scraped off.

Stage directions in [ ] can simply be ignored, but they are not necessarily to be taken literally

STAR: “On every thirtieth day of February...”
MOON: My diamond how I dance I know well and there is no such date even when I leap.
STAR: There was a spark in my head, on that day “... how a sun doth shine, the diamonds shall too.”
MOON: I wish you knew how to blaze the blazes you wish for.

MOON chuckles and laughs, about to kiss STAR on the lips but just when their lips are about to meet she leaves
[A fierce meteor shower is seen hitting STAR after MOON exits but he does not seem to be affected by it]

STAR: I shall glow as a thousand suns glow just watch me watch me.

PYROMANIAC appears [lava leaks from the right side of PYRO's body as he speaks]
[By the time they finish the following exchange their pathways should have drawn a pentagram on the floor- PYRO walked the double circle and STAR walked the 'star']

PYRO: My crazy diamond you are the one and the time has come.
STAR: Come make me shine.
PYRO: And your beauty will be mine.
STAR: Never never never my love my moon.
PYRO: It would not be fair if I receive nothing in return.
STAR: Perhaps perhaps my own beauty?
PYRO: If she will love you still.
STAR: She will if I shine.

PYROMANIAC embraces and caresses STAR with passion yet tenderly with his left arm and grows a right arm and a right leg and STAR is glowing and glowing as the caressing happens [and PYRO repeats softly from now on in different rhythms and pitches: Das Feuer liebt dich]

STAR: Scorching am I I am scorching. Shining like how a sun should. My love come feel my heat... heat...

STAR burns to a lengthy death with eyes wide open, dazed and amazed with the right side completely burnt

STAR: (a silent scream before he drops dead)

Dead Silence

One can hear MOON dancing at the same time [maybe a slow tap dance]

MOON: I wish I knew how to dance the dance he talked of.

MOON dances and keeps on dancing desperately until her feet bleeds [and wears away to nothing but two bloody lumps] and collapses

The end.

2006-11-13T00:10:00.000-08:00

i could have ended my life right now, right here. but i have a darling to look forward to. that is probably the only thing which is holding me back from it.

the feeling of detaching from your own physical body. it makes you forget the present and sulk in the imaginary. the third arm is ticking slowly, maybe not so slowly but regularly. a river flushes right in my face and i am not sure if i want to see that. twenty times twelve characters have passed and people still think i do not belong to the character i am supposed to belong to. maybe somebody picked me up and picked me up again by picking a birthday for me. artaud was a virgo too but apparently he was not that much of a virgo either.

talk about self-destruction. one destructs every day. destruction is construction essentially. tear down a building and a random yet interesting ruins of debris is constructed. destructionism and the theatre of nightmare. the theatre of destruction. no. müller has gone that direction. so did einstürzende neubauten. theatre of nightmare that is. self-destruction. everyone is destroying oneself everyday. just by living. one lives and what will the end be? death. certainly. i might know nothing but i know everyone has to die. some day. some sooner and some later, while some wish it could be later and some wish it could be sooner.

aber warum? warum bin ich nicht verrückt? och oder... oder warum bin dich nicht?
wer ist, und wer ist nicht. wo wisst? ich weiß nur dass ich dich lieben.

that is what keeps my box hopping. yes, everyone destroys oneself just by hanging on and staying alive and i am doing it too. but why, why do i have to be human and not just a cheetah or hyena? it must have been boring for a statue of helen standing up there all day and not able to seduce anyone really. poor helen. nobody cares about the classical beauty helen anymore and everyone wants to be as slim as a bamboo. bloody ridiculous and no desire to go further.

about time to put myself to sleep.

another step into a new stage of life

2006-11-09T17:27:00.000-08:00

in less than a month i will move into my new place.
in less than a month i will be done with the first half of my second year.
in less than a month i will be leaving for a while.
in less than a month... so much work to be done in less than a month.

in less than a month i will be hopping into yet another brand new stage of life.

something should be done in preparation.

our hair contains our memories. my hair remembers flying from hong kong to amsterdam to oslo. my hair remembers how it gets permed into a mini fro. my hair remembers all the 10 hour bus rides between flekkeland and oslo. my hair remembers my roomates and friends in both years. my hair remembers the 3 trials of dreadlocks which had to be aborted with metal forks. my hair remembers how pierre got angry with the class during operation dayswork and stunned all of us. my hair remembers how much fun we had doing the 18+ version of the wizard of oz while scratching J.Lo's scalp when i dashed offstage totally intoxicated. my hair remembers winters. my hair remembers depressions and is still remembering. my hair remembers nokia very well. erschwil too. my hair stores all the memories from 3 and a half years ago, the last time i had a real haircut.

something should be done in preparation as i said.

i have decided to partly say a final goodbye to flekkeland, after making sure that my hair carries too much memories that i could have stored in my head. or maybe i have finally categorized flekkeland as a distant memory, distant enough that i no more have the need to retain certain features of those days in order to remind myself of the days- in fact i have never totally accepted it is indeed distant already. not even during going back there and saying the supposedly final goodbye.

using a grotesquely big pair of schipp-schnapps i released myself from hanging too tight on the memories of flekkeland. but some part of it cried, 'hold!' and i listened. i figured keeping the concentrates of the distant memories of the past 3 and so years on my back would be a delightful compromise. today i carry memories as far as the beginning of my last year in flekkeland on my sides right above my shoulders and behind me down on my back i retained everything, in addition to relocating the once so close memories next to my blue cocoon and label the new place as a distant memory.

something was done in preparation after all.

but i wonder if it looks any different at all-

in fact the carriers of my formal proximal memories still lie silently on the floor, curled up into a tiny ball fighting the autumn chills. from time to time i still pat my little black cat which is merely as big as my two fists put together. so tiny yet so much weight. so much weight and so much weight it used to have.

and now i carry the weight deep in my skully secret garden next to my blue cocoon in order to free up spaces for the future, the exciting new stage.

die Farben

2006-10-26T17:07:00.000-07:00

Blau ist
die Farbe
der kalten Flamme

Rot ist
die Farbe
des heißen Regens

Schwarz ist
die Farbe
des toten Herzens

Verrücktmann- Ja.
Verrückt bin ich.
Sehe die Welt im komisch Farben.
Komisch- Ja.
Komisch bin ich.
Kannst du nicht was ich sehen sehen?

Kannst du, kannst du nicht?
Vielleicht, vielleicht nicht.

Verstehst nicht?
Ah- nein, dumm? Nicht du.
Ah- nein, anormal? Nicht du.

Alles ist klar, alles ist klar-
weil ich ein Krüppel im Kopf bin.
Denk nicht zu schnell, nicht zu verdammt schnell-
weil ich ein Krüppel im Kopf bin
und dumm bin ich
sehr dumm.

Nein.
Du Schwein.

tournikiss

2006-10-14T22:43:00.000-07:00

retreat you are my retreat
when flowers die and sky collapse
my searching eyes long for
your face your grace

repeat let the tale repeat
when stars fall and moon in flames
our longing souls look for
your arms unharmed

repent smile when i repent
when time ends and sun is out
remorse- i wish i was
your mannequin

hold me love me
around my neck
around my back
wish i was dead
'fore we met
tourniquet tourniquet
you're my tournikiss
my tournikiss.

while i should be working on theatre,

2006-10-14T20:19:00.000-07:00

i wrote a bad sonnet- well it's kind of working on theatre too but it has nothing to do with my classes. believe it or not the sonnet was done in half an hour (while i wish i could have wasted more time on it).

untitled sonnet

when time has seized the life in me away,
forsake thy sadness, quit of shedding tears,
for he has granted me immortal days;
thy cry, thy sigh- in death what is to fear?

in here the nights are long but i'm in peace-
no wars, no fights, no gods that counts our sins;
no nightmares, no disputes, i sleep with ease;
no rules, no norms i only wear my skin.

in flames my corpse, my heart, my soul is hung-
a phoenix of our time shall rise to sky,
the tune of crazy diamonds shall be sung,
behold- for i'm the one whose grave none prys.

the thought of being gone ills me no more
than you, the sight of you, my love, in grief!
hence never let go of my plead before:
the separation of our souls is brief-

the dark side of the moon is not the end,
soon thou and i will join our hands again.

2006-10-09T21:56:00.000-07:00

i dug out an old script i wrote before going to flekkeland. fung gave it back to me just this summer as he somehow found it in his possession. probably the best thing ever he gave me so far. heh.

it was supposedly written for a minifilm me and fung planned to make over one summer, dated back possibly as far as when i was fifteen turning sixteen, or maybe sixteen turning seventeen. it was surprisingly written in chinese. i never wrote anything serious in chinese and i don't know why i wrote in chinese.

surprisingly and not surprisingly i found out i indeed have always been the same. i wish i could post the immature script i had- it was even typewritten. maybe i will translate it to english and expand it, and actually work on it contraty to my usual habit of having ideas and never work on them. it was basically a story between a random student who secretly declared major in theatre instead of business or something else his parents wanted him to and a (now when i read it again) possibly schizophrenic alcoholic with too wild of an imagination. surprisingly i was so much like i am now. not surprisingly the story was just another condensed story of myself. i seem to have a subconscious habit of writing plays/stories/poems in certain important tragic stages of my life about myself. i never write happy plays/stories/poems for some reasons.

surprisingly it was not as immature as i thought it would be, at all. there were, objectively, delicious sentences and lines, even in chinese- heck i did not know my chinese was not that bad at all. surprisingly i indeed have dreamt (and possibly done, as it is afterall about my life) about something very similar to that. i really should write at least poems if not plays about my dreams.

not surprisingly it was really just a me, me, me play. i have forgotten or have not realized i have started talking to myself at that young age. maybe it has something to do with the thing with my father stopped talking to me from that year on for two years and rarely really talk these days either.

looking at that play, i don't know how i should feel. i really don't. it makes me feel happy and sad. i am happy that the real derek has always been in me since i was that young even. i am happy that i was capable or writing a half decent script at that time. (i wrote quite a decent a play about 4 homosexual young and not so young men a year before that but the manuscript was misplaced and lost because of the stupid 'chairman of the drama club', saying it's 'all weird and is like some silly bullshit'. i miss that play a lot and i wish i could read it again.) i am happy and sad that suddenly i remembered a lot about that year or two. happy that i pick up lost or suppressed memories again, sad that i pick up lost or suppressed memories again. those could easily have been the most fucked up years of my life so far. not a single thread of real happiness. a feeling of companionship through hanging out with fung was the best thing i got already. maybe also feelings of madness and fiery temper at peak too. those were also the years that everything went out of hand, the years that i started drinking vodka and hurting myself in different ways, mentally and physically. those were the years that i never wanted to go home (though i did). those were the years. i am sad that the innocence and restlessness might never come back to me, partly because (though i hate to admit) i inevitably have grown up a bit and changed a little- there went the innocence; and days sure have been a bit better now- hence the lost restlessness.

i really should start translating it.

that reminds me i have a couple of short and not so short plays to work on...
so that i can look back at it when the next big stage of my life comes. or so that someone will let me read them years later after i have nearly forgotten about them.

another nightmare

2006-10-08T19:05:00.000-07:00

this morning i woke up soaked in sweat. literally soaked in sweat. surprise, another nightmare. similar stuff, something weird and even sort of funny (which i never remember) happened and then it jumps to a gory terrifying scene, usually includes death and then i had to run for my life. maybe i should start writing plays about my nightmares and make a 'nightmare trilogy (or more)' out of them.

so this time i was involved in a strange hold up. first i was forced to be locked in a mental hospital because i was accused to suffer from serious mental disorders. even my parents have abandoned me there. i have had a series or interesting and somewhat funny therapies and treatments. i also vaguely remember meeting some other patients, planning a 'prison break'. sadly the detail was lost during the day but anyway i broke free. my mates broke free and immersed in the 'normal' society again and i never have heard from them again.
then came the twist. i suddenly found myself the leader of a gory hold up. i have a team and those were people who seemed familiar but i could not put a finger on who they actually were. we had a HQ roughly based on two or three rooms that i have always been in this semester- the kitchen, a room in a basement of the theatre, and a studio where i have most of my classes. we were abusing the hostages, beating them, cutting them with knives, hurling insults just to scare them. soon after dashing through the different hold-up places i found all my allies disappearing and they transformed into an arsenal in a plastic bag. a huge plastic bag. the hostages tried to break free and there was a small hassle but for some reasons they failed because they did not know where to go.

soon i decided to kill all the hostages for some reasons that i forgot. i picked a weapon for each of them. the hostages were also people who seemed familiar. i had great fun (i seriously did) in torturing them and shooting and cutting them in all the non lethal places after putting a final blow. i rather not trying to dig into my memories about the details- all i can tell you is that it was worse than the nightmare which i had to save the all-pierced girl (check the archives, i wrote about that dream too) then i felt like time was running out and something is coming to get me, maybe the devil, maybe the rescue team so i hurried and finished off the last hostage with two unaimed shots from a automatic rifle, it should be a kalashnikov as far as i remember. and i rushed back to my room , soaked and drowned in sadistic satisfaction drank some vodka and went to sleep. i had a feeling that they were never going to catch me. then came the next morning- i tried to sneak around the rooms and see if they were really dead. (i put the dead hostages in weird positions which all meant something to me in the dream at that time) and of course, one body was missing. the last hostage it was. so i hurried out of that room and i saw him standing right outside, seemingly waiting for me and my shocked and worried face.

'they rushed me to the hospital and i told the police who you are.'

i started running to a parking lot, where the escape bus was supposed to be waiting- i knew i had to do the hold-up and then i would run away to see my darling across the ocean. but it never came so i car-jacked a young boy's white toyota and told him to take me away. strangely enough he looked exactly like me, just more geeky. he obliged without a word and he took us into a forest, one which resembles flekkeland. soon the forest was so deep that i abandoned the car and started finding my way to the airport/dock/portal. it became silent and very scary for a while. i was all alone and fearing that the police might suddenly pop up. i saw a bright light and rushed towards it, thinking it was the place. it ended up being a forest ranger's office/resting place so i silently turned away and ran. i heard someone coming out of the office and shouting- i knew they saw me fleeing but i was also sure that they did not know everyone was trying to hunt me down. then after a while of dranged stumbling i came across an electric fence and a main highway. i heard footsteps and it was a father with his young son. without thinking i turned and ran back into the forest. i was also sure that they saw me and i knew they have watched the evening news last night. i was scared to death and i did not know what to do.

so i kept running, crawling and running and crawling.

after a while on the other side of the forest i reached a tiny ghost town full of bums and crooks. it looked like a mix of flekke/dale and commercial drive. i just knew they were crooks. they all knew me. everyone was staring at me as if they saw osama in person- petrified and amazed at the same time. i tried making them understand that i had to go but they spoke in some sort of gibberish that i could never understand. burnt out and restless, i walked down the main street and saw the white toyota. there were parts of the engine, trashed and burnt beside the car and suddenly a female incarnation of myself appeared and asked,

'what to do now, what to do?'

then i had a chill down my spine. i knew something which was not meant to be there was behind me. i turned to my back and saw the hostage whom i failed to kill standing behind me with the scariest grin and glare i have ever seen and he whispered in my hear, 'gotcha' and nudged a gun into my hand. i knew that was it. i knew i had to.

so slowly i placed the gun between my eyebrows, trembling, i put my finger on the trigger. and i woke up. i literally went to the kitchen and see if there were any dead bodies.

i was that scared.

prepare to say. say. reflect.

2006-10-07T23:40:00.000-07:00

and repeat. that's pretty much how to deliver each line, together with other things to consider. i am not anyone to go in depth about acting theories though.

reflect.

not only on line delivery, but also on myself. i have been doing a lot of reflecting today as a result of knowing that i will have a holiday on monday when everyone else goes home for turkey- yes, the canadian thanksgiving is earlier than the american one. so reflect: what did i just say? what did i just do? what have i become? what did that mean?

sometimes i wonder if i am ever going to blossom into a stunningly vicious yet attractive flower. maybe a black dahlia. maybe a black rose. i wonder if i am ever going to. teachers and classmates have said i am interesting and all that. am i just interesting or am i ever going to grow from the psychedelic black little grain of seed into something that i wish i could be? what if i just am interesting as a seed which looks like it has the potential to grow into a whole secret garden for dreams, but after years and years of watering and waiting the gardeners will see nothing but the same seed dying away in its own petty little dreams? it could be worse. maybe the seed is just nothing but a plain grain of rice and thought it is going to grow into a garden of black roses. there is a difference. between having potential but failing and not having potential and expectedly failing. maybe i am expecting too much from myself too quickly. or maybe the seed is going to grow into a plant that is so ugly and grotesque because no one has seen such a plant before. too many possibilities.

although i pretty much wish so, i am not saying i am going to grow into something totally unique. sure someone has become the future me before, may it be 10 years, a century or five before me. as a consolation i always tell myself it will all be different even though (i hate to say) me and those people will be the same. in relation to the society, to one's self, to everything else. just like gertrude stein's rose is a rose is a rose is a rose. but that is not my fear and i have no worries about that. back to the fear of blossoming.

it often strikes me that what i have taken so much risk for and put so much effort on doing might simply turn out to be an absolute failure. it is not like being a mediocre doctor or lawyer- one can still get by if one is one of those. but deep down there is something in me saying that there is no way that i am going to make such a compromise. i want to be the grotesque garden, i want to be the black dahlia- but can i? when everything else in life is going on so well as a pessimist one just has to search for something and make a melodrama out of it. but in this case it is not a pointless melodrama at least.

others' expectations and speculations do not bother me directly. think whatever you wish about me and i do not directly care. but eventually such speculations on potential builds up within me even more expectations from myself on myself. even more. if i fail miserably, instead of crying out loud 'i have failed you all who thought i am going to explode and blossom with my potential', i would simply say 'i was deceived, by myself'. bit pathetic, eh? maybe all the whining sobbing child needs is just some sort of confirmation as 'boy i know you'll make it' from someone who knows how much potential one has.

sometimes i feel like i am looking at myself and i am a big box of christmas gift and it is only 20th.

wishing and dreaming of the gift being such flamboyant surprising, the child just cannot wait for a second more to tear the wrappings open just to see if it is the same as he imagined and wished and dreamed. but it is not christmas yet.

let me possess a thousand hearts i would still need more to be broken if after hours and hours of waiting and minutes and minutes of frantic attempts to find out the truth all i see is nothing but a box full of wet hay soaked in transparent blood instead of a pack of psychedelic black dahlia seeds as wished.

i am scared.
no i am not.
let me out. but don't come in.
i want to stay here.
who are you?
who am i?

what am i?

thank you.

2006-10-04T20:20:00.000-07:00

it's been another 7 days. maybe more than 7. i cannot count. i really cannot.

i have indeed had quite a busy week with classwork, homework, meeting with my future landlord and some misc. stuff like groceries & co.. i wish i could come back to this blog with a signature weird derekish post or some silly german writings but i'm afraid i don't have time or energy for that yet. anyway it's still about time to write something just anything though i don't think that many of you care to read this as much anymore- reasons ranging from having hectic school life to simply losing interest. i don't mind.

it's funny how i have changed. i don't slack as much anymore. i actually try to work hard on everything, at least i try to... i like my acting class. my ensemble is gorgeous and we're getting to know each other a bit better now i guess. i have got remarks like 'you're really interesting' from another person from my class now. during some work in class, the teacher came up to the partner i was working with and whispered something in her ears when i was doing my piece. i wonder what was said but i suppose if i was to know what was said i would have been told and known about what was said already. anyway so i am interesting, according to some people. maybe they mean i am interesting in a sense that i am an interesting person to work with in terms of theatre or acting. or maybe some do find me genuinely interesting. but how could they? maybe everyone knows how or who i am and just that i myself don't know how or who i am. maybe it is so. then again i am happy that people are interested in how i work or in my style.

i was rereading the paragraph i just wrote. what boring crap i've written. i better just stumble off to do something else now until i have energy or am interesting enough for this blog. that might take merely 5 minues or another week.

on a side note, it's funny that i don't feel that i have time for slacking or have time to feel bored (except the times that i use 'i'm bored.' as a conversation-starter with my floormates...

stolen from n.

2006-09-25T21:17:00.000-07:00

TYPE YOUR NAME WITH YOUR FINGERS: derek
CHIN: derek (p.s. honestly i did that with my chin)
ONE FINGER WITH EYES CLOSED: derek (i really did not cheat)
ELBOW: de4r5te4erkl
LIPS: derek
PALM: frtrk
BACK OF HAND: dddddddddddddddddererfl
NOSE: eer

-----------------DESCRIBE--------------- ---

-- YOUR HERITAGE: asian, chinese, maybe with a tint of... some alien species
-- THE SHOES YOU WORE TODAY: my dark red leather boots
-- YOUR EYES: deep brown
-- YOUR WEAKNESS: imagination and creativity, which is also my strength
-- YOUR FEARS: losing my weakness(strength)
-- ONE THING YOU'D LIKE TO ACHIEVE: Be independent of anything worldly

-----------------WHAT IS------------------

-- YOUR FIRST THROUGHTS WAKING UP THIS MORNING: good. no hangover.
-- YOUR BEDTIME: whenever i want to
-- YOUR GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT: established myself as myself
-- YOUR MOST MISSED MEMORY: second year in flekkeland

-----------------YOU PREFER------------------

-- PEPSI OR COKE: p.
-- MCDONALD'S OR BURGER KING: neither
-- SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: single
-- ADIDAS OR NIKE: neither
-- CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA: neither
-- CAPPUCCINO OR COFFEE: coffee. black with vodka.

-----------------DO YOU------------------

-- SMOKE: yes
-- CUSS: yes indeed
-- TAKE A SHOWER EVERYDAY: mostly
-- HAVE A CRUSH(ES): probably
-- WANT TO GET MARRIED: very much
-- TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS: usually
-- GET MOTION SICKNESS: rarely
-- THINK YOU'RE ATTRACTIVE: maybe
-- THINK YOU'RE A HEALTH FREAK: i smoke. i drink. need to say more?
-- GET ALONG WITH YOUR PARENTS: kinda
-- LIKE THUNDERSTORMS: very much
-- PLAY AN INSTRUMENT: piano, synths, bit of flute, tried guitar, self-teaching myself bagpipe

-----------------HAVE YOU EVER------------------

-- FLOWN ON A PLANE: hell yes
-- MISSED SCHOOL BECAUSE IT WAS RAINING?: yes but so did everyone on those days
-- TOLD A GUY/GIRL THAT YOU LIKED THEM?: yes
-- CRIED DURING A MOVIE?: never during but maybe after
-- EVER THOUGHT AN ANIME CHARACTER WAS HOT?: ew
-- HAD AN IMAGINARY FRIEND: more than one
-- BEEN ON STAGE?: love it
-- CUT YOUR HAIR: yes but not in the last 3.5 years
-- HAD CRUSH ON A TEACHER?: ew
-- GOTTEN BEATEN UP?: sort of
-- BEEN IN A FIGHT: kinda
-- SHOPLIFTED: might have

-----------------NUMBER OF-----------------

-- NUMBER OF ( REAL LIFE! ) BOYFRIENDS/GIRLFRIENDS ( NOT INTERWEB!! ) YOU'VE HAD: depends on definition
-- NUMBER OF PEOPLE I COULD TRUST WITH MY LIFE: not more than 5
-- NUMBER OF PIERCINGS: had one before
-- NUMBER OF TATTOOS: 1
-- NUMBER OF TIMES MY NAME HAS APPEARED IN THE NEWSPAPER?: no... ah maybe yes.
-- NUMBER OF SCARS ON MY BODY: never bothered to count. most obvious ones- chin, eyebrow, right arm.
-- NUMBER OF THINGS IN MY PAST THAT I REGRET: rather not say

----------------FAVORITES--------------- ---

-- SHAMPOO: ... don't have one
-- FAV COLOR: black, red, grey, blue, pink
-- DAY/NIGHT: Nacht
-- SUMMER/WINTER: season of white snow and black nights
-- FAVE CARTOON CHARACTER: don't have a fave
-- FAVE FOOD: anything goes well with alcohol and hunger
-- FAVE MOVIES: way too many
-- FAVE SPORT: depends on the mood
-- FAVE SONG: depends on the mood

----------------RIGHT NOW------------------

-- WEARING: black hat, my pink long sleeved shirt, jeans... um, glasses and underwear
-- DRINKING: nothing
-- THINKING ABOUT: theater work and othe stuff
-- LISTENING TO: the usual stuff

---------------IN THE LAST 24 HRS------------------

-- CRIED: no
-- WORN JEANS: still wearing
-- MET SOMEONE NEW ONLINE: no
-- DONE LAUNDRY: in my head
-- DROVE A CAR: no
-- TALKED ON THE PHONE: mhm

---------------DO YOU BELIEVE IN--------------

-- YOURSELF: always
-- YOUR FRIENDS: i try my best to
-- SANTA CLAUSE: yes and click to read about it
-- TOOTH FAIRY: no cause i have had way too many removed and i have seen all fairies but not tooth fairies
-- DESTINY/FATE: want a 1000+ word essay on that?
-- ANGELS: random fairies and spirits in general
-- GHOSTS: as above
-- FAIRY TALES: honestly, yes
-- UFO'S: hasn't that proven to be true already
-- GOD: even lennon said no

--------FRIENDS AND LIFE------------------

-- DO YOU EVER WISH YOU HAD ANOTHER NAME?: not another but i want more
-- DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND/BOYFRIEND?: yes
-- DO YOU LIKE ( IN THE SEXUALLY ATTRACTED WAY! ) ANYONE?: i suppose
-- WHICH ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ACTS THE MOST LIKE YOU?: Inone i hope. i shall remain unique
-- WHO HAVE YOU KNOWN THE LONGEST OF YOUR FRIENDS?: fung and we are still in decent contact
-- ARE YOU CLOSE TO ANY FAMILY MEMBER?: not too
-- WHO DO YOU HANG AROUND THE MOST?: me and my imaginations
-- WHEN DO YOU CRY THE MOST: january and february 2006
-- WHAT'S THE BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD?: being with the love of your life followed closely by creativity, then the feeling of a organised chaos
-- WORST FEELING?: creativity's gone
--WHAT TIME IS IT NOW?: time to write for theatre classes and think
______________________________________________________________

+CURRENT+

CURRENT MOOD: i could write 1000 words anytime about my moods and you don't want me to do that
CURRENT MUSIC: the usual stuff
CURRENT TASTE: vodka
CURRENT HAIR: long and wavy, in a cute big braid currently
CURRENT ANNOYANCE: lacking of alcohol
CURRENT SMELL: cigarettes and someone else's dinner while i wish i could be smelling my strong vodka burp
CURRENT THING I OUGHT TO BE DOING (BUT I AM NOT): writing for theatre class
CURRENT WINDOWS OPEN: room windows, firefox, my thoughts
CURRENT DESKTOP PICTURE: i change daily
CURRENT BOOK: switching between Gertrude Stein's writings and various versions of Faust
+DO YOU EVER+

HAVE A DREAM THAT KEEPS COMING BACK?: a couple of
REMEMBER YOUR FIRST LOVE?: depends on the definition
READ THE NEWSPAPER?: sometimes
BELIEVE IT'S POSSIBLE TO REMAIN FAITHFUL FOREVER?: yes if i am with the right person and i now am
CONSIDER YOURSELF TOLERANT OF OTHERS?: yes
CONSIDER LOVE A MISTAKE?: love can never be a mistake
LIKE THE TASTE OF ALCOHOL?: 'i don't like the alcohol but the alcohol likes me'
HAVE A FAVORITE CANDY?: fruit drops and nothing else
DONE WELL IN SCHOOL?: once upon a time
WEAR HATS?: yes but i look weird in hats
SHUN FRIENDS?: try not to
WISH ON STARS?: i talk to them instead
LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?: my left handed wild unreadable-to-others writing? i love it.
CARE ABOUT LOOKS?: physically i care enough to make myself look different, mentally i indeed to care even more

+ARE YOU A+

WUSS: not too much
DRUGGY: not if you don't count nicotine and ethanol
DAYDREAMER: big fan
FREAK: not sure, a bit i guess
DORK: maybe
BRAT: don't think so
SARCASTIC: rarely
SHY: not sure
TALKATIVE: unless some bug has landed on my spiderweb of thoughts
ADVENTUROUS: usually
JOKER: no.

+LAST+ ME:

LAST BOOK YOU READ: C. Marlowe- Dr. Faustus
LAST MOVIE YOU SAW: Wow... it's been a while. I forgot.
LAST THING YOU HAD TO DRINK: Polish Vodka
LAST TIME YOU SHOWERED: This morning
LAST SONG YOU HEARD: The unfinished song I made myself

2006-09-23T19:48:00.000-07:00

luck.

what an interesting little idea. what is luck? who is lucky? and no i have finished watching the movie intacto about half a year ago. in fact the movie came back up in my head after i thought about writing this chunk of sentences.

as a boy i have always thought i was never a lucky person i don't have eventful random encounters with interesting people normally people don't come up to me and make eventful random encounters no not lucky draws or raffle i never have won anything from them so i have stopped buying those little tickets of hope and proves of luck long ago i lose random things and i am just not particularly lucky. i always thought i was never a lucky person but as i was contemplating if i should go for a post meal fag i started to change my mind not about the fag but about the issues about luck.

maybe i have been so lucky all my life that i just have never realised. i am actually a lucky person and i am indeed. maybe i do not neccessarily like my family all the time it indeed is quite a normal family and i got into a respectable school in hong kong yes i had a huge fight with my parents that my father did not talk to me for two whole years but if that had not happen i would not really have left home for norway that easily at all and there i met the most important people of my life so far i met good friends i found myself i found my love and i got through the ib with a blink and ended up with rather okay result considering the small amount of effort i put in and then university i got through with okay grades in the first year and then got through the audition and major in theatre now as i have always wanted and wished and hoped then i am getting so close to successfully finding an apartment to move out and have a place of my own and i have been learning well i think in theatre classes at least i do not feel like i am falling behind and everything i have a mind of my own and i am happy with that most of the time and i am maybe sometimes stupid but never not creative and i am left handed. me. me. me. enough said about myself.

was that luck?
is that luck?
have those all been luck?

luck.
i start to like the idea of

2006-09-18T23:03:00.000-07:00

as i was sipping away the last few minutes of monday, i went out to have a good night smoke outside, bare feet.

looking at the raindrops beating mercilessly on the leaves and as a dried tilted maple leave swang its way down from the very top floor of the dark sky a voice in my head said something rather interesting

you dear only walk bare feet in places you feel absolutely safe in dear

i thought about it for a long time okay maybe not that long but as long as the time it took me to smoke and sip away. yes i do said i to myself only walk bare feet in places i feel absolutely safe in. i walk bare feet when i can around the place i live in and i walk bare feet around the theatre building i have most of my classes in and around it when i have a smoke break. some random person questioned why i was walking around bare feet outside the building today between classes and i just felt like it. it is a great committment i whispered to myself while taking another sip. when one is bare feet one is defenless against the ground the world the earth the floor one is stepping on and it indeed is a great committment and at the same time a big risk. the feeling of having absolutely nothing in between for protection while you are having the most intimate and neccessary act with the place you are in. one needs indeed to be extremely secure of that environment to be committed to such a great extent.

as i am mortally exhausted from classes my brain just ceases to work harder on such a thought meanwhile i have other thoughts about theatre waiting in line at the gates of my trainwreck of thoughts so i am not going to go on.

but i beseech you all do give a good thought about bare feet and the feeling of total security. read it as a metaphor for being among people, for sex, for relationships or anything but i have not intended it to be so. it was just about being bare feet and feeling safe and accepting the environment.

hope that tickles your brains and curtains down go post show music till end go house light up go doors open go.

2006-09-16T23:18:00.000-07:00

name.

i've never given any in depth good thoughts of my name. ka ho derek chan somehow i have fused derek into my middle name although i have no godfathers. ka ho is a combination of two chinese words which will never able be represented corrected in english unless you call me praise the sunny sky while you can also intrepret it as praised just like the sunny sky. i have never asked why but my mother has often said when i was a young child she liked sunny days and maybe the rare word of 'ho' in chinese is a good representation while my father is a well educated chinese teacher he found such a rare word of my age. often kindergarten and primary school teachers will mistake my 'ho' for another word which reprsentes the underworld or pluto. hell why would someone name their child that but my father once had a student who had a name that sounded just like 'semen' in chinese but of course he changed his name after his parents realized what a ridiculous name it was.

one might notice how i write in long, coma-less sentences like Gertrude Stein these days well i am taking a course which extensively has to do with her and it is inevitable that i start to write like her just as i wrote like hamlet of shakespeare during twenty oh-five. so back to the name.

most people know me as derek which is a rather uncultural but usual name of mine. in those days and in these days people in hong kong like to add a english or european name above their name. derek afterall originates from some old german names meaning the ruler of people from most of the sources i have been reading either the mighty internet or baby naming books. surely i am not a ruler among the people i hang out with but i have enough power and status to rule over my world and when things become my world i rule for example if i have a play which i direct or i have written.

it is funny how everyone's name is what that person does not have. i am a considerably gloomy person and thus the 'sunny' thing is what i lack and i am not a ruler of people for sure well if you do not take my own world in consideration of course. i know a lot of people who possess names that is what exactly they lack and trust me i have checked out most of the people's name at least those i consider i am at least a tad familiar with.

names is a funny thing because i have been always thinking of my future daughter(/son)'s name. i always wanted a daughter more than a son for some reason but it does not mean i will not love him if i have a son but back to my future daughter's name. it has to be german or swiss for some reason which is obvious or not and at least derek is originated from old german but well maybe most of you who reads this know better than my mom's ex-boss is a swiss who allegedly still has a house in basel. so what will it be, i do not know. but it will be something beautiful i am sure.

how about the chinese name that is a big problem and an interesting one because my father is a chinese teacher and i would love to have a beautiful name for my child and although i have considerably good handwriting for a lefty i have not overwhelmingly good knowledge in beautiful chinese words but then again i am reluctant to seek for help from my father because one that will be the child of mine and i want him to be proud of my choice and since i was regarded as eccentric more than once and as a budding artist also more than once an extraordinary name will be certain. it is not clear why i have been wondering about these far in the future issues these days though.

names are mysterious. they represent exactly what you lack in your personality. allow me to be honest the name of s. means more or lesspeace and that is most of the time what she is lacking of while vittu's e. according to internet resources can mean hesitate while she is as far as i know for sure a straight forward and honest person and zh. the russian according again to the net it includes a meaning of 'noble' while she is as sweet as the girl next door geoffery from hk means somehow peace also while to my understanding he might look peaceful and quiet outside he has a raging soul inside and alfred from hk too it roughly originated from 'elf' but sure the mind of alfred is never as peaceful as an elf but it is sad that i fail to find a concrete meaning for my slovenian roomie r. and t. the turkish and n. the german and k. the leftybulgar and many other else and i have to insist it is something interesting to know, whether their names is exactly what they lack in their soul. most of the time it stays true even for chinese name of people i sort of know of.

derek the ruler eh actually indeed he is the ruler of nothing at the moment.

2006-09-14T23:08:00.000-07:00

an equal amount of water and vodka has been put by one in identical markless flasks sitting on the dinnertable and it will never be clear which is which until one morning after a long day's work he is so worn out and glups down one of the two without even processing with his taste buds the tasteless taste or the burning sensation.

this long chunky sentence just suddenly came up in my head and i have since failed to put any meaning in it or relate it to anything but i thought it is almost a sin not to share interesting voices in my head with everyone. i really just thought that sentence is interesting. that's all.

and for all of you who might be wondering... no, i'm completely sober. i know it doesnt explain very well about the last post about the sun and the moon nor the string of words above, but hey.

okay german speakers now correct all my mistakes...

2006-09-14T22:22:00.000-07:00

there is a 'what i really wanted to mean' section in english below-

die Sonne lacht
und
hinter den Berg weint der Mond
der Sohn der Explosion fragt,
mein Freund,
o der immer süsse Mond,
warum hast du tränen in
deinem schneeweisses
Gesicht?
die Blumen werden
rot
die Tochter der Nacht fragt,
aber du,
du
glücklich Feuersänger,
weißt du, dass
dein Licht zu stark
für
meine Kinder ist?
sie können nicht spielen,
nicht tanzen,
nicht laufen,
nicht schlafen!
aber schau,
du kannst nicht immer hier sein
es jetzt wird Nacht und los!
los!
sprachlos, die Sonne denkt,
aber keine Kinder hat der Mond!
so Nacht wird es.
über die Berge hängt dem schwarz haar der Nacht.
eins,
zwei, drei,
fünf,
elf,
viele
kleine Kinder tanzen,
sängen,
spielen
und scheinen in Himmel!
kalt ist jetzt die Welt aber
langsam, die Mutter von alles macht
eine gelb Tashe
und in der warm Tashe schlafen
die Morgensternen.
ruhig,
sie schlafen.
-------------------------------------
the sun laughs
and
behind the mountains weeps the moon
the son of the bang questions
my friend
oh the ever so sweet moon
why do tears hang
on your snow-white
face?
the flowers are
red.
the daughter of the night asks
but you
you
merry flamesinger,
do you know, that
your ray is too savage
for
my children?
they fail to play,
to dance,
to run,
to sleep!
but look,
you can never be always here
night has come and away
away you go!
speechless, the sun wondered
but there are no such thing as moonchildren!
so night falls
above the mountains the dark locks of the night hang
one
two, three
five
eleven
countless
tiny children dance,
sing,
play,
and shine in the sky!
the world is now so cold but
slowly, the mother of all makes
a yellow bag
and there sleeping in the yellow bag
the morning stars
silently
they sleep.
------------------------------------------------------
hope you all are able to take pleasure from this attempt of blending heaviness and innocence in one.

time to practise my german, and hope you will get to read it.

2006-09-09T14:18:00.000-07:00

'Heidi'

Nicht mehr fegt
der gnadenlos Wind
mich,
Nicht mehr
isst die
uferlos See mich,
Nicht mehr brennt die
bodenloss Hölle
mich,
Nicht mehr hasst
die träumerlos Welt
mich,
Nicht mehr
ist ein
friedelos Mann mich,
wenn du
hier
mit mir
bist,
weil du meine Liebe,
meinen
Engel, mein
alles
bist.
So bitte
lauf mit mir
aber
nicht zu
schnell,

weil ich

ein Krüppel bin.

2006-09-06T22:38:00.000-07:00

classes are great so far... and i'm rather busy settling down with studying and cooking and just getting my life back on track. might not have a lot of time to write nonsense here in the next couple of weeks/months- but i'll type up some of my journals for classes, voice class, movement class or playmaking class if it's interesting at all.

there's just so much to learn.

i couldn't figure out why i woke up so unusually early and felt fatally bad this morning, until i came across this piece of shocking, tragic news...

2006-09-04T17:47:00.000-07:00

rest in peace mister steve 'the crocodile hunter' irwin, the man who taught me more than anyone else about animals, the man who was always excited like a pure-hearted child during an encounter with any single kind of species, the man who always wear the same khaki outfit, the man who always exclaims, "CRIKEY!" i forgot how many times i've heard you saying that, together with the rapidly delivered precious knowledge about wildlife on animal planet. i'll never forgot how i always have imagined myself doing what you do in the programs. crocodiles, seals, penguins, and even stingrays. i have never forgotten how many times you cheered me up during sad and bored nights of depression, bringing me around the world, showing me all kinds of animals. although we've never met in person, i always felt like we're going on wildlife adventures together as two enthusiastic boys, spend endless hours in the wild.

don't weep for your own death, mister irwin, and let me, the human species, and species and species of other animals do the weeping for we have lost a great friend, teacher, guide and most important of all, a protector. at least, you left happy while during what you truly love- something that most of the population of all species on earth could never achieve.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
do me a favour, take a little time and read about mister irwin.
here's an easy place to start with...

2006-09-02T01:08:00.000-07:00

funny how i havent written anything for so long- wasnt i supposed to double/triple post everyday during summer? well, at least i'm going back finally, it's good i suppose- even just for a change.

i'll be busy getting my stuff back, trying to get hold of my advisor, maybe hopefully figuring out what is up with me financial assitance thing, getting books, finding a place to move out to, and oh, getting food...

just anything.

let the birds fly into the cage and the termites chew up the rotten wood.
maybe the dolphins will weep for me when i am gone.

but why can't we juggle dreams, fingers, eyes or planets?
sometimes red tears flow out of my ears and i don't know why.
look, my hair is giving me sanctuary. just a million pills for a piece of peace, a mill of pills for a piece of peace, anyone?

hopping like electromagnetic-driven spinning boomerangs falling on the grass and he saw saint monkey showing himself as a mad little boy, saying,

'wach auf, mein kind.'

the fingers are dancing in the fire,
on the blades, in the forest, under the ground.
but what is the point of all that?
fairies too, dance, but they dance on the green,
in your dreams, on the clouds, above the sky.

why do little dragons not spit fire when they cough?
go ask saint monkey and the answer will be revealed.

come.

2006-08-27T09:04:00.000-07:00

i'm alive.
not doing too well and not knowing why.

in a sense i cant wait to leave hong kong,

but on the other hand i am not exactly longing for going back.

flying at 1245 on the 3rd, arriving even earlier,
namely 1000 on the 3rd at vancouver.

maybe there are things that the madcap is longing to prove and find out,

but scared that the truth and reality
might just end up being too heavy.

saint monkey.
sweet saint monkey.

2006-08-18T23:54:00.000-07:00

alone in my bedroom i went in to a trance last night. i had a strange conversation with myself and we know that i'm not totally alright but we just couldn't tell why. and that's not good.

it felt like someone has attach a vacuum cleaner to my spine secretly. my blanket was the perfect material for running away, it really was. sitting in the cave i closed my eyes and hugged myself, pretending that she's next to me. i tried to bring myself onto an adventure like i've always done in colder places. the hovering sound of the air conditioner, muted roars of car engines, the pounding of my weak blood pump- the voices are all in my head. i found my way to another world, a world that was shaking. a collection of unstable illusions. the end of a circle always joins the beginning. after a certain state, the rider lets go of the gear and the mustang takes over. amused and amazed, i always end up with similar situations that i'm forced to take over again.

the door to the way out was just right in front, a bright white exit just like i've always imagined.

but of course i didnt make it. bored? surprised?

2006-08-18T10:11:00.000-07:00

sitting on the couch, not able to think about anything. once again floating in the middle of nowhere and go on floating more. ever seen how spiders deal with their food on animal planet? they wrap it with the silky stuff coming out from their asses into a pretty meatball, numb, dead or alive. it is none of the butterfly's business that it's causing a hurricane in the middle of the ocean. then a special blend of love fluid's ejaculated into the web-ball. you know, then everything starts to melt, slow or quick. the prey's world had a final hit. and when the time has come the big evil one will return and slurp the thingy dry. well, just like, you know what. obscenely annoying. how annoying could this be? you have no idea. just try to explain why i can't even keep a coherent conversation with myself anymore- and convince me that you're right. is that so? could it be that the madcap's growing a little bit too big for the blue cocoon? snakes grow up, break out of the old sweet suits. bam, cute little snakes become black mambas.

obscenely annoying without a tangible cause. and that's what my world has become.

do you think mona lisa gets bored? such a fake. how can she keep smiling 24/7 and you say it has always been genuine for all these years? or maybe when she's alone she weeps quietly for her son, her husband, her family and friends whom has died and gone throughout all these centuries. maybe she has been laughing at us all. look at that sad smile tainted with a lace of arrogance. 'you people are so a-stupido...' she laughs at warlords, presidents, cheaters, pop stars, common people, humanity. sorry mona lisa for calling you a fake. but i'll never understand why they call your smile attractive.

what else should i be to make me happy, to make things right, to stop the blue cocoon from taking pills that make you numb? stop running, look around and turn one hundred and eighty degrees. reach up into the sky and search for the floating boy.

i keep having dreams that i don't even bother to write about anymore.

2006-08-13T01:34:00.000-07:00

i never liked the heat.

leaning against the window, looking out at the blue sky. 'ah, how beautiful,' i thought, 'too bad that i actually don't think so.' instead i look down from fifty storeys high at the swimming pool. what would happen if i just hop out while listen to hyperballad? it's as easy as sitting down and doing nothing. diving in the water and then smashing against the bottom. what a beautiful violet it makes- the transparent blood water and the light blue artificial seabed. they will love it i'm sure.

i always hated the heat.

maybe not only the heat, but the noise, the people, the illusion of being an interesting place. i would still blame it on the heat, though. treating each other as merely tools and stepping stones to the future, only thinking about how to earn more money by either assimilating yourself with the rest of the drone population, or exploit and extract every single last drop of humanity from your slaves. master or slave, that's the only two options if you stay. humming fans, mumbling people, honking cars. and of course bad asian pop music and mind numbing dialogues emerging from the telly god.

it must have been the heat.

watching too much animal planet makes me relate myself and my behaviour to animals. snakes and other reptiles gain energy and thus aggression when they have stayed long enough in a warm environment. boom, a slight touch pierces the anger balloon- or the balloon just gets bigger and bigger if no one even cared to probe it. most animals need extensive personal space. they freak out if one does not respect it. hating to stay too close with the others (except a few people), physically or mentally, makes me relate myself more to some kind of solitary monogamous animal, rather than Homo sapiens whom are annoyingly dependent and have no respect for personal space or identity.

i really never liked the heat.
but what does it matter?

2006-07-29T11:22:00.000-07:00

someone from surrey (or anywhere nearby) found his/her own way here... who? my 4th year?

2006-07-29T10:33:00.000-07:00

this morning i went to my faternal grandfather's and my maternal great grandmother's graves (they're just kinda 'graves'- i'll explain) because i havent been there from the year i left for norway on.

i call them 'graves' because i don't know better ways to call them in english. we chinese sometimes just cremate the dead due to different reasons- the deads' wills or financial reasons. in these two cases i would guess both, maybe even the latter is the major one. anyway. so we collect the ashes and put them in small urns, make a mini wooden or stone grave. it is a little bit strange that my grandpa's 'place' is somewhere in a enclosed area a bit high up above the floor. and no i can't reach it. nobody can. i don't know why. i never manage to remember where it is among thousands of other mini graves. nor do i actually remember his name. well, he died roughly 18 years ago. before i have any memory of anything. so i barely know him. and for my great grandma, i have had encounters with her, but only a few. she's luckier in this sense, cause she has a little stone grave, sharing with her husband, enclosing their own little shelf for the urns. every 1x1x1 foot shelf has its own number, by the way. i really should make a sketch of all these things. i bet you non asians will be interested.

of course, there are some people who are a bit wealthier, or they choose to be buried. the chinese way's pretty much the same, just that the graves will look a bit different, it reads similar stuff on them though, i think. never examined one.

i find it weird. it is ridiculous that you were materialized and represeted by either a little wooden plate with your name and a mugshot on it, or a 1x1x1 foot cabinet on the wall sealed by a marble version of the mini graves which has a 4 digit code. so you turn into a wooden plate or you turn into numbers and you 'eat' insence all day. i don't want to be like that when i'm dead. throw me in the wild and let me feed the hungry animals.

all these seem weird to me. of course i understand out of tradition and respect, i am obliged to do these things, especially when i haven't done that for 3 years. but i don't know those two relatives of mine, at all, i would say. of course even though my dad doesnt like his dad much, if he bothers to go and see his 'grave', it does mean something. and i suppose my mom liked her grandma a lot. before when i was younger i used to believe when i talk to my grandpa he will know, and i will eventually get to know him this way, and he will help me and such. never really worked out too well. probably it's in the genes of the men in the family on my dad's side. i don't know. i wish i could at least remember how my grandpa looked like.

geez i'm letting you guys know too much and that's not right.
ha.

2006-07-27T09:33:00.000-07:00

know the frustration of failing to accurately release the compressed restlessness inside your cracked skull because such restlessness is not represetable and explainable to the others in a more explicit, tangible or common way, mainly because of your lacking of knowldege in the all the common languages you know? whether the languages be actually literal languages, body languages, visual representations, stories, plays, the hyperdense compressed restlessness can only be described close but not to the bull's eye, like having a killing itch but only able to scratch the pieces of skins around the spot.

the closest i can get to is that i feel like there is a fist size, spinning black mass of feelings, dark mass of melancholy and hysteria increasing in speed and weight but the size remains ever constant. it's like having that mass spinning in you so fast and the force is so strong that the world around is brought turning and twisting while standing still because the spot where i am is in the middle. if i make any rash moves i will be sucked inside to the black mass or blown outside and lose myself in the spinning world. it is impossible to distinguish and differentiate between similar images of the world which is spinning. it feels like standing in the middle of a storm. it feels like standing in the middle of a storm of my mind. it feel like standing in the middle of a storm of my mind while it is getting denser and denser. it feels like standing in the middle of a ferociously blazing storm of my mind while it is getting denser and denser.

it feels just like my idea of death. stuck in a state of eternal peace while trapped between two different shades of ever savage restless and stormy darkness which are located respectively right under and above your skin.

wow.

collected random writings. open to suggestions and/or con/destructive critisisms.

2006-07-27T05:24:00.000-07:00

just that i might should post something or else you all will think i got a life and took off.

ignore most of the grammatical mistakes unless it makes the sentence mean something absolutely different.

[mister crosswordpuzzle]

he is a lonely man who always fills out crossword puzzles on trains
lots of unbelievable things happened when he was 5
he could recite the dictionary backwards
but his mommy let mother nature take care of the boy
just because he has 3 eyes and half a nose; only one lip and twelve toes
his skin is ever so dry and cracks open- infected wounds oozes out puss

red deers run away from him because he looks like a wild beast
jungle jaguars think he looks too disgusting to eat
explorers think they see the demon boy from hell
and even trees bend away from him because he smelled like death

they call him mister crosswordpuzzle
but he always leaves out some words delibrately
but he never actually asks for help
some people walk away
some look
but honestly don't know the answer
some look
and pretend not to understand
but
some stop and help

nobody knows the crosswordpuzzles are cursed
tailor made to capture, seize and collect
the element which the people fill in

if a schoolboy helps filling in 'finger'
he will never know how to use the fingers again
nor knowing what fingers mean
if a sailor helps filling in 'fish'
he will never notice the existance of fish
nor knowing what fishes mean

so mister crosswordpuzzle collects all these
in a little glass candy jar
the only present he has ever got from his mother as a parting gift
he picks up broken barbie dolls for limbs and dead babies for the skin
also collects loose hair; organs from butchers
pig lungs-cow stomachs-goose intestines

so he'll be able to make a friend for himself
his very own friend whom nobody will snatch it away from him
nor will he run away from him like everyone did
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[the eyeballman]

there was a short little man with light blue eyes
he likes to drink coffee without milk and sugar
in the hockey ring he's the goalkeeper
but he hates playing the guitar
and the most important of all to spy with his little left eye
all sorts of images absorbed into his eye
he saw terrible things
little boy gets hit by bus
little girl kills abusive father
babies flushed down toilets alive
drunk smoker burns down forest
buildings fall onto people
faces turn blue and purple
men and wives become cheating couples
his eye gets bigger and bigger
and the world becomes better and better
soon his head cannot take it anymore
his head bursted open
the brain ran away with the right one
and the one left was stuck there
like a golfball sitting quietly on the pin
waiting to be struck
one day he was walking down the street
a mad scientist saw him and wanted to get him
saying too big of an eye will sink the earth
but he know not of the secrets inside
the eyeballman ran and ran
shouting the forbidden words aloud
buses get hit by little boys
abusive fathers kill little girls
toilets spit out rotten babies
drunk smokers drowned by forest
people falling down onto buildings
faces turn blue and purple
men and wives become cheating couples
the eye gets bigger and bigger
and the world rotates slower and slower
soon the earth cannot take it anymore
the planet cracked open
the men ran away with their loved ones
and the eyeball is the new earth
soon volcanoes ejaculate mischief and
you all know the rest
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

congrats if you make it to the end.
i might actually make them into half decent poems, songs or plays in the future.

2006-07-17T21:29:00.000-07:00

A mini version of a nightmare.
Less horrible visually maybe. Equally weird though.

I again saw my dream falling apart and slipping away just seconds before I woke up.
This time it was purely sex and violence.

Some sort of disaster that got me and a female stuck in a really small, low roofed room. Maybe poison fog, maybe acid rain, maybe snowstorm, maybe government troops, I forgot. Just that I'm sure we meant to run away and hide from a mass of huge life threat. The roof is so low that we have to sit or lie down and stay really cramped. So we were hiding and suddenly someone broke in and the person looked a bit younger than me. I had a really bad feeling of him staying but I wasn't the one making the decision. Soon I was sat on by the other two like a matress and the duet start to get it on. Hot sex and what not. I remember no details though. The whole sex act finished with maybe the male coming on the female's body or something. I got furious somehow so being the matress at the bottom, I conveniently ripped his genitals off. Ah, I'll leave the details out also.

Then that male figure turned from a young innocent looking person into a furry demon looking like person, with black fur and long claws, and somehow I was brought to a blank outer-space-like dimension and we started a fight. Imagine two hyena with rabies fighting each other for a dead gazelle after not eating for 3 weeks. Animal Planet and some imagination always help create such scenes. So I was able to control what I did during the whole dream. A lot of biting and pulling limbs off. I lost an arm or something I believe. So the demon thing vanished into smoke or ashes, then I was returned to that room which became a normal apartment already. The female figure was looking for a place to commit suicide. And the two sides of my brain started literally fighting because an orchestra was playing The Fifth outside the window, floating. The left side wants me to kill the group and the right side wants to listen. Not a pretty sight either. This time imagine two enormous sea slug fighting, speed it up a little bit though.

It hurts so much that I screamed, when the female figure jumped out of the window, and both parts of my brain was completely ruined.

Things ended there.
I think I forgot a lot of details, or maybe a lot of mental states that I was not able to describe.

dream.

2006-07-14T23:57:00.000-07:00

I think I just had another nightmare last night.

it was mainly about playing 'paper scissors stone' with a mysterious figure, and drawing cards, ending up on a golf range where I got covered with ferocious leeches.
Then seeing a woman and a child on their way to the mysterious figure and I led them away, passing through the same golf range (it seems like crossing it is the only way in/out of 'it'), and covered with the leeches again. Then I end up going back to the mysterious figure instead of the woman+child, and I lose again and had to drink some weird glasses of potion spiked with strange powders and somehow a minion of the mr. mysterious was piercing my right index finger at the first join after the palm joint, first with a 1mm needle kinda drill bit but it broke and was stuck in there so the minion changed to a 1.2mm drill bit, it broke again and this time a 1.6mm bit and it worked finally and when i pulled hard my palm was still held tight by the clamp so, well, i of course lost the whole hand and was bleeding and it hurts even more of course, and someone pulled my hair and banged my head on the mysterious figure's table.

and i woke up.

p.s. the leeches and the drilling thing sound rather not too bad, but hey, the way my sight was panning and zooming to different views of my sufferings... it was just unberable.

p.p.s. and you don't want to know how the woman and the child looked like, you don't want to see them covered with leeches and sucked dry right in front of the supposedly exit either.

a piece of writing

2006-07-11T08:34:00.000-07:00

here's a piece of writing I did a couple of months ago. Hope it displays in the right format or else it will be too messy to understand.

Well, apparently blogger doesn't like weirdly written stuff, I'll try to post it as a picture or something.

oh, here it comes- cliktxity click on it unless you have read it over my shoulder while I was editing it just now...

200th post.

2006-07-07T11:46:00.000-07:00

Unluckily there isn't really anything happy to tell yet. And I found something interesting and strange.

At the back of my neck, on the left side right below my skull, like where the end of the curve of the back of my skull is, I found a little hard lump of thing under my skin.

The question is, has some aliens raped my neck during sleep or is it something else?

-----------------------------------------------------------------
After poking my nose around on the net, it's probably just a swollen lymph node, or well, it might be early lymphomas of course, but i don't think so. At least I don't really hope so. Hah.

2006-07-04T09:32:00.000-07:00

...while I was waiting for the semi-final game of the world cup, I picked up American Beauty about one third from the beginning- it was on TV somehow. I never bothered to watch it to be honest, for a reason or another. I used to think it must be some kind of commercial hollywoodish stuff- and I think I am wrong.

Not the best thing I've ever seen but it is enough to put me into another state of mind instead of the 'boring summer' mode.

I don't even know what to say about the movie. I know it isn't even close to anything like Donnie Darko nor the Butterfly Effect, but somehow I get the same feeling afterwards- the feeling that you want to have a nice iced glass of something, take a sip, walking through the snow under crisp moonlight to the smokers corner, alone or with a person, puffing away, turning myself into the intoxicated spaced out chimney. Something that has not come across my life for quite a while. No, not even the 'a glass of something' part. My body does not really approve of that in a way- of course my eyes always do on the other hand. But it is always better to clip the budding alcoflower than trying to burn it down while's blooming in his prime. The latter's just too painful.

So what now? Is the boy standing in front of the gates of hell going to make his turn? But deep down in the kitten's mind, why would she want to munch on canned pet food of the reality after trying fresh fishes from the human world, their dreamyland?

Cats must think us humans are all cripples.

'What do you mean, they can't use their front legs to walk at all? And you must be kidding me, they can't clean their bottoms with their tongues? What a bunch of indecent, incapable freaks. And they are stupid enough to hunt those metal rats which skin they don't eat nor let us eat either. Look, mice are so much better! Geez. Just HOW do they manage to survive for that long?'

It must be fun to be anything but humans.

template?

2006-07-03T08:43:00.000-07:00

niko noticed-
new template.

it's actually just because someone (both niko and a friend back home) pointed out that my blog became so full of characters (just like me, no?) suddenly, so i decided to pick a new template at random, hopefully the prob will be fixed.

and it was fixed.

and i didn't bother to copy & paste all the links- everyone else have them anyway, and i have (nearly) all the blogs bookmarked... i mean, for those who commented on my blog, and some that i came across randomly on other people's.

anyway tell me to bookmark yours if you think i havent.

nth much to say actually. same old, same old.

Hold, hold!

2006-06-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not lady macbething. Just that the football madness is taking a break and going to resume 2 days later. So I am a bit restless and lost at such a time at night. I have been, because of boredom, watching pretty much all the games so far- feel free to look up the time difference, do the math and figure out at what time I go to sleep these days.

And there are not a single game tonight, nor tomorrow night.

Well, at least today I was again playing with my friend's synth and I found out some sounds that I can make pretty good use of. I'll just have to wait till I go back to canada and hope that I'll have time, and then try to get those sounds on my synth (well, it's a different and older model I got second hand, but I hope it'll have roughly the same functions-), then I can pretend to create sound pollution-

Bleh- time for more animal planet and maybe something to eat-

2006-06-27T00:03:00.000-07:00

You guys are so serious about my last post...
I was just having a bad day and felt like whining a bit- c'mon, y'all know how I am.

Ha.

2006-06-25T07:58:00.000-07:00

Just found out people have become slow on reading/writing/replying posts.

Some have friends visiting secretly, some have job to do with great plans for the rest of the year, some have lots to study, some have housework to do, some have siblings to talk to and hang out with, some have parents to talk to, some have lovers to take care of them when they are sad and down, some have been travelling, some just have issues.

Even going out to half-interesting places cost quite some money- I never realized even travelling within here costs so much.

ME? I've still been looking for a job and keep getting rejected, mostly because I'm looking for a summer job I guess. Also trying to get better on the bagpipe, which is going rather okay. Maybe I should read more books on theatre, maybe I should get some money to get drinks, maybe I should learn to cope with loneliness I get whenever I am in Hong Kong.

Hee. Maybe I really like having nothing to do deep down. Anyways, there's no point in caring about what I like or not for anyone rather than myself. It's not like I care about it that much either.

World cup, oh the madness.

2006-06-24T10:14:00.000-07:00

I dislike my mind a lot.

I found out it's very capable of seizing nightmares or unrealistically good dreams (that they are bad 'cause deep down I know it is not going to happen). Maybe my mind's really too good at doing that, it always lets good dreams slip. I actually have the image of the dreams slipping away through my fingers, and the feeling of it too.

Like you try to pick up a lot of porridge or shampoo with one hand, fingers wide apart.

That disgusting feeling of the need to grasp something but fail miserably no metter how hard one tries. The moment I start to realise I'll have to hold onto the dream tight, everything starts to melt, like the chooclate palace in the movie charlie and the chocolate factory. My world is shaking and melting while I'm standing right in the middle of it. It's always like that if it weren't one of those nightmares or 'sweetmares'.

Why do I fall asleep when I am desperate to wake up, and wake up when I'm dying to go on sleeping?

My other pair of eyes, what are you trying to tell me through all these long years?

Hey, you, what do you see?
Something beautiful,
something free?

Hey, you, are you trying to be mean?
If I'm stuck here,
it's hard to be clean.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Clean.
To stay clean.
Not to grow up,
or to fit in.

Compromise, go with the flow-
that's what I've been told.

Wear suits
Look good
Bow deep
Be humble
Be normal
Be like each other
Be like everyone

Jaded.
Can't help it.
Have I been blind,
have I been wrong?

Come on, don't be childish-
that's what I've been told.

That's what I've been told.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
What a bad piece of writing.

2006-06-23T11:38:00.000-07:00

I always stay awake until I really cannot fight the sleep monster. Maybe it is stupid in someone's eyes, but to me, it is perfectly justified.

In nightmares, one does not fall asleep but wakes up from it.

And I hope one day I will wake up instead of falling asleep yet again.

2006-06-18T08:43:00.000-07:00

I have a blanket, a brown blanket.
It wraps me in my sleep. Not only that actually. Nightmares of roughly the same nature engulf me during endless intoxicated nights when I see things with another pair of eyes- the ones that are embedded inside my head.

Most dreams are forgotten, while unpleasant or overpleasant dreams burn noticeable scars in my head, ones that you can see without other incidences reminding you. A giant red robot/dragon hybrid monster rises from behind the hills outside the living room building. The red disaster approaches, while demolishing everything on the way. Me, at that time a care-free child, standing by the window, spotted by the monster. And I wake up. I have been having the exact same vision for over 40 times during my childhood, within a period of maybe 5 years.

The thing is somehow I dream of things, and forget about them- as long as no similar incidents happen in the near future, which is not the usual case (as long as my life is at least a little bit more eventful than that at the moment). The 'overpleasant' dream that was so pleasant that it punctured my mind I had some time in Feburary or March actually came true in the end. I never knew my big wild dreams do come true.

That gets me thinking what's going to happen with that prolonged dream I had about the red monster. Nothing happened so far, luckily.

And so I had a rather graphic adventure last night. Basically it is about me trying to remove metal rods and rings and spikes and sticks and hooks and whatnot from a girl whose body, face, mouth, nose, eyes, ears, limbs, fingers, toes, everything you can think of, is pierced. A hook piercing the 'bell' right before her throat. A rod going from the upper roof of her mouth to the top ofher head, piercing her skull. The tip of her tongue connected with one of the flaps of her nose with a closed ring. A spike from a temple to an eyeball... you get the picture. There was hardly anything that was intact. Some wounds were healed but making her uncomfortable, some wounds are bleeding, and some rotting. For an unknown reason I had a feeling that I actually was not supposed to help her, because whenever I was trying to remove a piece of metal, I sensed that I was getting into deeper danger and shit. Seemed like I was trying to free some prisoner of the authority or something. Also I had to dodge from visitors, friends and family members somehow- and secretly return to that very room-in-the-shadow of mine to deal with the squirting blood, brain, body fluid, plus the ear drum tearing screams and moans, and the random rings of the doorbell and knocks on the door. Soon (or actually not so soon) there was one piercing left- the one going through her head from the upper roof of her mouth cavity to the top of her head.

And she died.

I haven't had such an intensive dream for a little while.

Then again most of my nightmares consists of similar stuff. Feeling of needing to hide/run, saving myself/someone from authorities/imprisonment/torture, and usually it contains a lot of pain somehow, somewhere in the process.

Wonder what my other pair of eyes are seeing and trying to let the ordinary ones see...

Hyperballad

2006-06-15T11:51:00.000-07:00

[sorry for the copy & paste post. listening to this song while looking out of the window of my living room 50 floors up in the air is a bit... well. Let's just say it describes my mood pretty well at that split second in front of the window. Just read the previous post if you actually want to read something.]

We live on a mountain
Right at the top
There's a beautiful view
From the top of the mountain
Every morning I walk towards the edge
And throw little things off
Like car parts, bottles and cutlery
Or whatever I find lying around

It's become a habit
A way to start the day

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

It's early morning
No one is awake
I'm back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow with my eyes till they crash
Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks

When it lands
Will my eyes be closed or open?

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

i should...

2006-06-15T10:00:00.000-07:00

...buy some kinda lottery ticket tomorrow. I don't even know where to get one actually.

"New car, caviar, four star daydream,
Think I'll buy me a football team."

Name that tune w/o googling and I'll give you a smooch.

I was looking out of the window, fifty storeys up in the sky.
I looked up and saw the stars, couldn't stop wondering why things can even be so ridiculously far away. Couldn't stop thinking how cool if would be to have a pair of wings. Or just possess telekinetic powers- I bet Aladdin can show me the way. I looked out of the window again, half a hundred floors from the clouds. I looked down and saw the concrete, the asphalt, the ever running traffic, the never resting traffic lights, the somewhat blurry air. Why don't I learn to get to like or at least appreciate where I am? How many people actually fancy living in a city like Hong Kong? How many people every day literally die trying to get to big cities for a hopefully better life?

And I am not satisfied. The person whom I want to be with is busy at home, my best friend's moving to helsinki. So what do I want? Sometimes I wonder if I would still be complaining if I'm with whom I want and if I'm living in somewhere that I like, doing something that I like. I wonder if I would still be complaining even if I'm working in theatres. I talked about it before- people are constantly trying to be something that they are not, if not something that they cannot be. If we are all satisfied and want to stay as it is, we won't be doing anything, nor making even any slight changes in our daily routines.

Wait. So I'm not changing anything oin my life at the moment. Am I starting to get used to sitting at the same place, eating, getting fat and lazy, trying to read, watching all the world cup matches? Shit.

I wonder.

I guess now I'm the one who is floating in a huge tank of goo emerged in eternal darkness. Stuck. Craving for a sparkle or even a rope or a hand to pull me out. Goo. I wonder if the goo is transparent, black or green. I wonder if the goo is poisonous- well it better not. At least it doesn't taste like anything I know. I am all filled with it now. All my cavities my nose my mouth my ears my stomach my balls my ass. I wonder if I was captured and kept here, or if I stumbled across this trap by mistake so I can only blame myself for all this void mess that I'm stuck in? I can vaguely feel some other vibrations through the goo. Wonder if it's someone outside the tank talking or someone like me, struggling for help, struggling for the warm touch of a certain finger tip. If there's really a person inside the tank, would she be the one looking for my finger tip, like I'm longing for a specific one to return? What if it was only some dying twitch? Then I guess sooner or later I'll be able to meet my only hope, dead. Dead bodies don't move. Then again I rather be searching for a living sweet hope all my life, knowing somehow I'm going to know how it feels like once again, than to suddenly stumble across a false, dead hope once again.

Brauche dich viel,
so viel-

komm hier, kannst du

bitte, jetzt,
und

hilf mir.

untitled

2006-06-14T07:59:00.000-07:00

The bagpipe came. Don't know if I talked about it. Prolly I did. Been watching the world cup these days. Every match. Don't even know why. Some games are not even that interesting. I still don't have a summerjob. They don't like how I look, they don't bother to reply, they don't even bother to let me finish my question on the phone. It's getting hot. I obviously don't have much money for anything. Not for a bday gift, not for alcohol. Even taking the train getting to my friend's home seems expensive to me. Can't even think of anything fun to do. Can't even think of anything fun, in fact. Dried up and considering my synth's in Canada, not able to write any good tunes either. Piano's been long gone. Everyone has things to do. People from SFU have summerjobs. Nearly everyone I know on my floor last year, that is. Flekke people, well, for those whom I care, most of them have things to do. Work, friends, family. They have these at their respective homes. Yep. I like my friends here but I really am out of money. I don't really talk to my family anyway, you guys know it.

Remember I said something about looking forward to going back to Hong Kong for the first time? Remember how enthusiastic I was, just thinking of getting a crappy summerjob? Think I was wrong. From where did all these ideas creep up in my mind? What the carrots made me start having funny hopes? Some things just don't change, no? Stinking like a roll of rotten cabbages. Hong Kong. I somewhat prefer staying in Canada or anywhere alone so that I can smoke and drink by myself. EVEN that's less depressing.

So I started using leftover rice and bread yeast, trying to make something I like.
If I get blinded or killed because of methanol poisoning, pour a bottle of something over my dead body and make me a happy ghost.

Bleh. Guess I might complain even more. Isn't grumpiness and childishness just so damn hot? I might as well go on blabbering while walking to see if my home brew's getting anywhere close to being ready.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fine. Any hugs dealers around? Anyone? I *might* be able to pay, if I start collecting all the coins of different currencies in my bags and sacks...

Recurring dreams

2006-06-10T23:02:00.000-07:00

Who says childhood nightmares don't come up again?
Now one does and it's calling me a nightmare!
What makes adulthood logies don't make any sense?
Then I knew it is never cool to grow up.

Deadly sins.

2006-06-10T11:53:00.000-07:00

Stumbled across the seven deadly sins somehow and read about them.

Guess what I found out?

Except greed, I'm guilty of the other six.

Maybe I'm not that bad with lust, though.

Dreams & passion.

2006-06-10T10:57:00.000-07:00

Trinidad & Tobago vs. Sweden.

And the oh-so Swedish Swedes were fucked right up the ass by the sunshine from Trinidad & Togabo. Of course, only 0:0. But it almost felt like Trinidad & Tobago won. Come on, it was Trinidad & Tobago.

A sensational match. Touching. Passionate. An underdog team which was playing happily, passionately with high teamwork (and of course quite some luck)- first-timers of the World Cup finals. How could they suddenly crack up at some point of the game? Just how could they? They got an unfair red card against them, i.e. they were playing 10 against 11. The cameramen did not catch how all the laughing and talking started. But the team was slightly cracking up about something. In a god damn world cup game. In their first fucking world cup game in which they were looked down on by every single one before.

Yorke was surprising. Once Man. United star striker and a big playboy himself, has gone through a completely metamorphosis. He was the libero/sweeper of the team this time. And he actually did quite well. Geez.

The game was more touching than most movies I've seen. More shocking and stunning for sure. I saw a team working hard for their dreams, while not losing the fun within it.

Hope I will be like that when it comes to theatre.

P.S. While Wilhelmsson of Sweden is a pretty good right midfielder, he's also quite a good actor- jävla Svenskas.

P.P.S. Larsson is an exception. He is good.

Out of inspiration.

2006-06-08T04:58:00.000-07:00

I think I spent all my inspiration and energy trying to learn how to use a midi writing program and try to write some pathetic songs. Ended up with something. Not anything excellent. Not anything I can't play on the piano in real life though.

Somehow I feel obliged to post something, and I stumbled across Mads' blog which reminds of me those self-analyzing stuff which was made famous by that Proust person.
---------------------------------------------------
What is your most marked characteristic?
- Being myself, I think? (I really can't tell)
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
- ...not losing myself, I think? (Can't tell either)
When and where were you happiest?
- Days around 10th Sept, 2nd year, Flekke.
What is your greatest regret?
- That I chose the wrong continent to be born in while I actually had the chance to choose while I was still up there.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
- Like, 'maximum' happiness? No idea or else I won't get sad now and then, no?
What is your most treasured possession?
- My ability to let my mind fly.
Where would you like to live?
- My blue cocoon.
What is your greatest fear?
- To grow up and become one of them.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
- Childish.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
- To be something that they cannot be.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
- Sex? Wait... is it a virtue? Well, if not, then money-making ability, that is.
What is your greatest extravagance?
- Nothing probably... my mind?
What is your favorite journey?
- Any destination within the boundaries my imagination (which don't really exist).
What is it that you most dislike?
- Commonness.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
- Ability to be not stereotypically masculine.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
- Ability to be not stereotypically feminine.
What do you most value in your friends?
- Genuiness.
If you were to come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
- Myself, with short, really deep blue fur and 3 feathery wings and 3 bat-like wings on either sides of my back.
If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
- Myself. Unchanged. Well, a bit taller and a bit more insane maybe.
How would you like to die?
- On stage. Preferrably during a performance where the plot is that my character gets killed.
What is your favorite occupation?
- Going anywhere led by my imagination.
What is your favorite color?
- Black.
What is your favorite bird?
- Crows.
Who are your favorite prose writers?
- Honestly I don't read much. If I have to say, it'll have to be Artaud for his madness and uniqueness, Stanislavsky for his sanity, and Antonine de Saint-Exupéry for his imagination. And let's just not forget myself, for the mix of the three above.
Who are your favoite poets?
- Nothing I read can be counted as real poems. Björk, Marilyn Manson, and Pink Floyd have good lyrics though. As good as poems.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
- Mowgli.
Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
- Aphrodite, if she is really of fiction instead of a real goddess.
Who are your favorite composers?
- Nothing classical. So it's like one of those 'what are your fav. bands?' question?
Who are your favorite painters?
- Painters. How narrow- why can't it be 'visual artists' instead? THE favourite would be nothing surprising (yes, YOU). Otherwise... no idea.
Who are your heroes in real life?
- Artaud. And myself.
Who are your favorite heroines of history?
- Miss Grolimund and Miss Toivonen.
What historical figures do you most despise?
- Dolly's mom. Why? Why can't you just have an abortion, you SHEEP! See what have you done to uniqueness? You are KILLING the concept of it! You made the concept of cloning and commonness cool and okay and possible. You ignorant SHEEP!
What event in military history do you most admire?
- Ché and Fidel. They HAD good intentions. Now Fidel has just gone all bleepbweugh.
What reform do you most admire?
- The rise of the theatre of the absurd and the rise of modern forms of theatre.
What is your present state of mind?
- 'Life is a state of mind'. (Vittu... why did I even quote that, oh WHY?)
To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
- Commonness.
What is your motto?
- Do as your feelings say. (I just made that thing up at the spot. Never tried to put that idea into one single coherent phrase.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear! It was boring to answer those stupid questions. Better than doing nothing though. That guy from the jewellery shop still hasn't replied me about his phone number which is one digit too few.

Trying to get a job, part I don't know what

2006-06-05T10:14:00.000-07:00

So today I got irritated by something and pulled myself together and try to find a job. Ah, it was the lacking of classified ads in the newspaper we have. I always thought all newspapers should at least have some kind of classified ads of some sort- I was so wrong. So wrong that I flipped through the whole stack of it. And yet I still haven't figured out the cruel truth- not before I sighed and asked my mom where it is, and she replied 'I don't think this newspaper has a classified ads section.'

But she was watching me flipping through the newspapers all along!

Then I went on to the internet and randomly applied for 3 or 4 jobs which does not really require education levels that I don't have (usually a god fucking damn bachelor degree for the rage of Poseidon). Some random summer course teacher, some metal jewellery shopkeeper, some kind of Starbuck's-ish job. Think a person like me is going to get one for sure? We will see. I ain't too optimistic though- not because of my hair this time. Luckily they don't get to have a look at the caveman before they actually start reading the application e-mail. Then again guess what's all in my resumé? Of course mostly theatre related. What has theatre to do with all those crap I was applying for? Nothing. Did I hear someone asking why don't I find a summer job in some theatres?

DID I ACTUALLY HEAR SOMEONE ASKING THAT? AND HAVE I TOLD YOU THAT THEY ONLY WANT BIG SHOTS IN THOSE THEATRES?

So let's see what I am going to do. Standing at a cashier all day and ask people if they want a piece of cookie with the coffee (how fucking stereotypical of Fine Arts students/grads...), standing in front of a bunch of little buggers and reading them storybooks in English which they won't friggin understand (and hope that their parents won't think I'm a freak or a pedophile or simply a beggar who broke in and murdered (and possibly eaten) the *REAL* teacher), or standing at a cashier of a metal jewellery store and be grumpy (hey, that sounds like quite a happy ending for some Fine Arts grads already...).

I suppose once I get a job I won't even have time to come online and bitch about things that much. Here the word 'empolyers' is the synonym of 'bloodsuckers':

'Welcome to the machin... company. In order to get you, our dear employee, accustomed to the working environment, we practice long working hours, so you can get used to it as soon as possible. Nobody likes quitters. Neither do we, especially quitters who have announced that 'I'm quitting!' before they actually start, so we basically hat...discourage 'summerjobbers' like you, but if you are one of the lucky ones that we pity on, we plan to exploi...maximize the chance for you to show your talents during your temporary stay. Oh, one more thing. To save funds for furnishing the working space for a better working atmosphere, we are forced to lower the salary and lenghten the working hours, but you know it is for your own good... anyway, dear slav...employees, welcome to the mach...company where you will have a completely terrific slavin...working experience.'

Well, what am I bitching about? I haven't even got a job yet and how exactly would I know it is for sure going to be like that?

I'm just bored and feel like trying to be funny.
Time to read another day away- still have to finish Stanislavsky's.

Actually there might be another reason why I don't want to apply for a job. Maybe I just subconsciously want to stay at home all day and actually communicate with people, since I did not really find any to communicate well with while I was in Canada, and time difference did not allow me to stay at weird times of the day to talk to people whom I really long to have eternal long talks with. I am not sure if it is actually a reason though... prolly I'm just making it up to make y'all feel important and shit. F'get 'bout it.

I just found out another reason for freaking out for nothing today- to quote and modify captain Sparrow- But why is [rum] vodka gone?
No, Elizabeth (weirdly my mom's name's Eliza) did not burn it.

It's just all gone again.
Too bad that I really cannot afford to get another bottle.
Unless I get a job.
Oh wait. That would be for my travelling in winter and part of my tuition fee also.

So no gulputey glupley glup for a while.
Bummer. (When have I started using that word?)

Labyrinth. Of fear.

2006-06-04T11:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes he wonders if it is ever possible to find someone else of his kind. He has one more eye than everyone else, those so-called Homo sapiens. His right upper body is severely deformed- you can hardly see his right 'arm'. It's more like a XXS sized meat lobe hanging from the shoulder- if that body feature of merely some darkened, burnt-looking skin wrapping a twisted, ball-shaped scapula could be called a 'shoulder' at all.

Of course he can live with people who don't belong to his own part of the world- no one lives there anyway. He can live with people who are drastically different from he himself, he can talk to them, make friends with them, like them, hate them, eat with them, meet them, learn their names and forget them the second after. He absolutely can. They know he can, too.

But just like any other kinds of monogamous animals, like most wolves, or jackals, they need one of their own kind to spend the rest of their lives with. I am not sure if he is able to get back to his own pathetic blue cocoon whenever he wants (or as he says, 'needs') to recently. Or does he still want the blue cocoon, which was built and laced with layers and layers of fear and rejection and distrust, occupied full of endless labyrinths of his mind, only he can get himself out of there with his own mind, his imagination- 'to kill off an imagination by imagination'? It is a series of never ending labyrinths. I somehow suspect he has built them unconsciously to isolate himself. Maybe I just enjoy watching him walking in labyrinths of his own mind alone, maybe not. Labyrinths are amazing art pieces though, no matter how dark and wet they are.

Some people are trapped in their own labyrinths, but some realize maybe there's someone of his own kind on the outside, in someone else's labyrinths. After years and years of hitting, screaming, crying, digging, crawling, leaping, climbing and at least one from the both sides of the wall of labyrinths develope wings or very long arms and start to reach for the dark sides. I think he ended up growing an eye on one of the fingertips of his hand on the very long arm, so he could have a look at the angel crying on the even darker side of the labyrinths- he knew her. They've met before. The angel was sent to help him build his own newest final labyrinth when it was snowing. No, the angel actually took him out of his first labyrinth, and it was chaos. He had never been completely out of one before. He did not know what to do and went mad. As mad as me. Yes, ME. THAT mad, yes. Then it was all chaos and history. Now he saw the angel crying and the angel saw his arm... their labyrinths mystically joined, so did their hands.

And now they walk the labyrinths together again. No fear, no sorrow. Full of unknowns and excitment, full of expectations.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

When have I started writing shitty stories about fucking labyrinths?
Forget 'bout it. It's the damn heat.

So I saw my first years and the norwegian tourists- it was pretty fun to see them all again, the 'kids', you know. It made me feel so old seeing them coming 'back' here.

I don't know. Seeing them a few times more later on might trigger more thoughts and emo-boy whines and cries. We'll see how it goes.

Locks. Long, black locks.

2006-05-30T08:32:00.000-07:00

I have pretty much the same convo with people these days about finding a job. With people I met in Hong Kong, with my old class and my old class teacher last night at dinner, with other people on the internet. It actually does not matter whom. Those conversations are majorly about me whining that people discriminate my long hair and stare at me and don't hire me because a) I look like a bad person; b) I look like a bum; or, c) I scare customers away (in case of a shop). Outcomes are nearly always people trying to convince me tying up my hair or simply cut it, just to compromise. And I'll be an stubborn childish ass and say 'if they don't take me as I am, I wouldn't want to work there either', and annoy everyone.

Isn't it funny? Do you guys talk to yourselves? Has there been an occasion that you cannot recognize yourself, or surprised by your reply to your own question when you're having a little intellegent chat with yourself? Or has there been at least once that when you ask yourself questions, you don't know how you yourself would (want to) answer?

Maybe it's time to go through a self-dissection session. I am a stubborn, childish, possessive and self-proclaimed different person. From that day, when I discovered that one can have a mind of his own, follow his own heart rather than other people's opinion, that I don't HAVE TO live in crowds, from that day on, I loathe beings that are 'everyone' (those who have seen my individual project back in Flekkeland should know a bit 'bout it). But recently I am half forced by boredom, half by the reality, into the reality itself. I actually have to reach out and finger-tip the real world, the hot, dirty, slimey colony of mindless drones. Lots have told me in order to survive, one has to compromise in a way or another. Nearly everyone has told me making compromises, even a little bit, is neccessary. Is it? To compromise, or not to compromise, that is the question. Would there be one day that I finally give up and cut my hair short and dress up like a dork going to interviews, and suddenly both angels from heaven, demons from hell and my other self from the blue cocoon all emerge to this inferno of civilization and all cry, 'hold, hold!' and save me from becoming the fallen one, more damned than the damned?

But hey, I'm sure there must be some people who would not mind a bite of a bummy looking lady-boy when the wolves are howling. So what the hell am I worring about?

Hell, maybe.

My personal hell. The prison I have build for myself. Nah, what prison? Now don't try to make yourself like the Pink guy in the Wall. Well then, after some confessions about compromising to fit in, maybe I should as well bitch about my own possessive tendency. Actually there's not much to say. Lacking of close relationships with other mutated chimpanzees during the early stage of my life can be the ultimate scapegoat. Heck, my childhood is not even that bad- just that I don't remember most of it. Damn Russians and Finns, I know you guys melted my memory butter serectly. So just to make everyone tell me that I am all fine and hot and attractive, the standard complaint of myself being insecure and 'easy-to-trust-people-about-everything-else-but-anything-that-might-
require-my-opening-of-the-blue-cocoon' just have to be done. I can give a guy whom I've never met before (and actually obviously lying) 60 dollars after listening to some weird lies, just to help him to 'pay for [his] extra luggage and get on this damn flight', or well, to 'make a friend for life 'cross the sea in London'.

But yet I am not considered as the one who helps everyone, and of course not the one who's always being exploited- I'm not always helping people anyway. Cause I'm not 'the nice guy', at most I'm just 'the weird guy', which I actually do enjoy being more. There are always better people around, this I started to understand very soon, very soon after I left Hong Kong. Just about in everything. In talking, in studying, in being helpful, in being nice, in being weird... wait, not this one, in eating eggs, in knitting, in hopping 100 times consecutively, in day dreaming, in turning door knobs, in opening soda cans, in mixing oil with butter, in singing, in falling down, in swallowing dry pieces of biscuits, in fishing, in being a fish... you get the idea. Yes, I'm saying what everyone wants to do but never dared to- to pop it. I know, I know it's tempting. Just like a full bottle of Stoli standing in the middle of the street. A bubble which is so fragile, lame, crippled and ugly, who doesn't want to pop it? A person who is so hostile, rude, stupid and freaky, who doesn't want to sink him? Still don't get it? I think too much of myself. Fuck about all that being insecure bullshit. I always try to be different, I always think I'm talented, I always think I have a way with things- and I am wrong. I am the exact opposite I think. I screw things up more than I fix things, I dry up more than I create.

Imagine if a person like me meets me. We would hate each other so much because we try too damn hard to be the one, the only one. Guess I'll be able to do it and stay the only one, as I'm an evil guy

I am still blaming the heat, 'cause I'm absolutely sober at the moment.

Forget to mention, attention is like alcohol for me. I crave for it, but at the same time, at some situations I hate it and want it away as far as possible. Wait. Have I ever thought that I want alcohol away as far as possible?

Honestly, yes.

'What a damned slut for attention,' she looked at him as if he is a serial rapist of farm bulls and cursed, 'all he wants is just attention, attention and attention! What? He does not own the world, and people around him are not obliged to pay him any attention. Too bad that they don't sell attentildos on eBay. I sincerely feel bad for that poor guy.'

Dorothy said

2006-05-26T08:04:00.000-07:00

that there's no place like home. She kicked the heels for three times and went back to Kansas with Toto. During a conversation on the internet with the finn, I realized no matter how many times I knock the magic red shoes, the mysterious black bootsm or whatever, the wizard won't send me anywhere. There's kinda no place on earth now that I'm absolutely familiar or comfortable with to call home.

Of course I don't know much about where I currently live, cause I haven't lived in this area for long- actually counting last summer, not even for 4 months... Even if my family haven't moved away from the 'old' place, I would not know this Asian city well at all. I haven't kept in contact with more than 10 people in here I think.

Some might say I should somehow know flekke- it should be an absolute no at this point. The only bunch of people whom I know have gone already. The place has become so distant to me, and I don't want to call it home, at all. I might have done it before, while I lived there, which was actually reasonable. Quite a strong affection developed in me in fact. I used to love that place, so much that I would never want to leave. But as K. mentioned a bit, going back once again reminded me of flekkeland's, rather bad sides.

I might call canada home in a couple months' time- but it's still not a place that I'm familiar with.

Then the finn said, nokia and tampere!

Actually I think I know those two places better than any of those mentioned above. Maybe I know flekke better, but I absolutely feel more comfortable in cellphoneland.

Maybe, oh maybe erschwil(?)?
do you think so?

It's not like I don't want a summer job.

2006-05-25T23:48:00.000-07:00

First... I was drooling to the link niko gave me in the last post. Too bad that I'll probably get arrested or something if I'm caught doodling with sidewalk chalks in Hong Kong.

I've been trying to check out some job vacancies on the internet. Some sort of government website. So you guys think the website must be damn efficient and nice, eh? Afterall it's Hong Kong, with all those little Asian geeks on computers and other stuff, having all these ultrasupermegaadvanced technology. Bleh, I was wrong, and so are you all who think so. One damn website for job vacancies (posted through something called the Labour Dept.) in the whole Hong Kong. Yes, yes, Hong Kong isn't exactly big, but think. Even 1% of the 7 million of us go to the website at the same time, the server(s) has/ve to be down- I experienced that myself. It's not even possible to search for jobs. And of course there aren't really any local district thingies for such things, to narrow my search down. So I guess I really am not going to get a fucking job.

The jobs on that website (actually in the whole Hong Kong) are hideous. Working from 0900 to 1730,1800 or even 1900, 5 'and a half' days per week (i.e. they want you to work even if it's a Saturday morning and thus ruin your whole Saturday)- and guess what? The salary per month is hardly over €500. Of course I tried to look around and see if there are places in theatres I can work in. Of course not. All they want are bigshots, connections to bigshots or lame celebrities. Those which don't require those are usually lame 'drama' groups, kinda just as a hobby or something, putting up lame shows... That pretty much also ruled out the possibility of me coming back to Hong Kong after graduating from university- unless I suddenly feel like being some sort of a saint.

Now I start to understand how some people work as prostitutes voluntarily.

P.S. I just realized how perceptive and easily affected my brain is. I can't write sensible blog entries, can't write plays, can't think, can't even read materials which are more sophisticated ('An Actor Prepares' is taking me forever suddenly)... oh I feel like I have a full skull of grey, sticky, melted brain-goo. Not to mention, I've been dry for 4 or 5 days, which is quite a huge torture. Maybe I should get some when I go out next time. Y'know, can't just go out for 5 minutes and come back with a big glass bottle in my pants. That doesn't make sense at all.

Well, of course it does to me, but sadly not to my parents.

I want sidewalk chalks.

2006-05-24T10:22:00.000-07:00

As title.

Something is wrong...

2006-05-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

... because I just realized I have changed quite a bit, again.

*warning: this is going to be yet another intensely egocentric post...*

Maybe I shouldn't use such a harsh word on 'something', or rather myself. It's not like anything wrong, just that it might be something that I would never really do during summers or actually during my life. Let's start with some shallow thing- there's another more serious issue which I do not know much but wish I did- some family matter.

So nothing bad but just a bit weird- I've moved away from regular metal music. Actually saying that I have stretched myself from metal music to other genres would be more accurate. I have been listening quite a large amount of Pink Floyd after leaving Flekke (honestly I never liked them before when I was younger), and then I started to look for some strange metal things, like, well they are not really strange, I guess naming them and letting you guys find out would be enough- Korpiklaani, Shaman, Finntroll (I like them even more than before), In Extremo... Guess that's enough. Not like it's a bad thing- I still enjoy a lot of Iron Maiden and Marilyn Manson (right, he isn't anything close to metal...). And then recently (maybe not so recently but anyway) I started to really like music of Radiohead, Sigur Rós, things like Brian Eno's Ambient#1-4... well I have always, always liked Björk and she's of her own kind anyway.

Enough to convince you all that something funny's going on within my blue cocoon? No? Fine. I do occasionally (more than occasionally actually) even listen to Dead Kennedys and the Exploited these days. AND- Today I found out I actually don't mind listening to John Lennon's works for hours and hours. I know I still cannot really stand the Beatles though. Don't ask why. Alright. It's boring to read me listing out all the bands on my playlist 'cause I think there are still quite a lot that are left out and those names aren't exactly anything that turns one on, I suppose.

Alright, some more weird thing. Me, a person who loves to live in my own world, being messy and appear to be lacking of the ability to take care of myself so that I will live a hygenic and healthy life, have decided to apply for and successfully offered a room on university residence where I'll have to cook for myself. No, not during the weekends only, not only when I feel like to (well to a certain extent yes, but...), not only when I have time, but daily, always, all meals, whether I want to or know how to or not. Well when I first mentioned it maybe in here or to people, I was kind of half joking, saying that I can of course take care of myself- but now I actually, kind of am a bit determined (what a strong word for my attention span) to get myself a healthy life next year- alright, it's not like I'll be able to stop drinking so I guess I'll just try to live and eat healthily with it.

Doesn't sound weird enough?

I actually start to talk to and actually care about my family. (Here comes the 'family matter' mentioned above) Talking to my dad always feels weird, eternally. This is a coined fact and it will not change. Yet I actually tried to have random convos with him, planning to have more during World Cup times. I can now stand my mother for a couple of sentences more without actually getting annoyed by her. Strange. I count my dad's mother as an immediate family member, although I haven't seen her for literally ages because I wasn't in HK and she has been in pretty bad conditions for a couple of years now. Some stroke things I think- no one ever told me what actually happened and I don't think I will get an answer even if I ask. EVEN today, apparently 'something happened to grandma', according to my mom, and they (I guess all other uncles and aunts of mine too), rushed to the hospital or something- I actually don't even know where my grandma's staying exactly. All I knew was something happened. And I don't think she's gone to join my grandpa yet. Nearly no one talks about him either anyway. But yeah, I spent the first 4 years of my life with her I guess. I don't rememeber the earlier years, but I know both of my parents were working till I was 4 when my brother was born, and mom quit her job to take care of... him, I think. Something like that- so I was a lot closer to grandma when I was small.

So yeah, family matter. And I started to be less cold blooded.

It must have been the heat of the summer.
It's getting REALLY hot- I'm all sticky without even moving.

Now all the kids are off to grad dinner and people are generally not online anyway- who would stay at home in summer? Well... it's past midnight and I finished all my alcohol 2 nights ago-

Maybe it's time to go on a musical trip- just play random music, stare at the ceiling and start dreaming. I just realized I haven't done that for so long...

Blue cocoon time.
Tschüss, viel glück und spaß, gute Nacht.

... allergic to alcohol!?

2006-05-21T11:27:00.000-07:00

After finishing all my leftover gin tonight, I found out I am having an outrageous rash all over my body (haven't checked 'there'...). This is the first time though. Doesn't itch or anything. Just gets me wonder... wtf makes those rash appear?

Never happened with gin or vodka or rum or in fact any alcohol alone...

Time to think what i ate today...

Things I might want to do this summer.

2006-05-21T07:25:00.000-07:00

I think it would be fun to make some kinda summer resolution, and check it out say, on the 31st August and see how many of the goals I would have accomplished by then.

First as I have always said, I would like to get a summer job. Earlier I was being picky and thinking of something more interesting, like something about theatre to work on, but I realized it is virually impossible anyways. So, I'll just get myself occupied from time to time this summer. Just anything which hopefully gets my ass off my bed during the day. Actually I just want to prove people wrong- some (yes, more than one) say that with such a hairstyle and outlook, the chance for me to get a job offer is zero. We'll see.

Then I'll have to become a lobotomist. Not literally.

Hopefully those will occupy my whole summer. Actually not much. I think I'll finish Stanislavsky's 'An actor prepares' in a week or even less, if I can stop myself from 'sipping away for better sleep' at late nights. I might want to re-read Artaud's 'Theatre and its double' if I can find it at all in Hong Kong... maybe a couple of movies are worth watching actually. Not too sure about that. I am nearly surely not watching Phantom (the STAGE version!!) in here since it would either be too expensive or that I'll have to use telescopes. Just like in the operas in the old days, eh? No thanks. I really would like to, but I'm poor.

Ah. As quite a lot of you have noticed, I've been wearing the same damn clothes for quite some time now. Maybe it's time to get something new to wear. I am actually in need of new clothes. Tomorrow maybe, if it doesn't rain like a beer piss like today.

The heat melted my brain (think I wrote exactly the same excuse last summer) and I'm running out (no, not of THAT- of ideas I mean).

Coffee, gin and my room.

2006-05-19T14:13:00.000-07:00

I never sleep naked, not even only in my boxers way back in hong kong.

I don't know what the heck Flekke(...?) or Canada has done to me, but I never can sleep with really any clothes on anymore. Didn't mean to make this post erotic so I'd better not go into details. Nah, I just want to 'air out' my tattoo- especially in such a warm humid summer day.

I had quite a large mug of coffee a while ago and of course I didn't think that I won't be able to fall asleep. And obviously I did not and instead I stayed up and wrote some lyrics- me and a friend from home decided to make 10-ish songs over summer. I really want to accomplish that because we've planned so many things in the past summers and it never worked due to different reasons (laziness, lack of this or that, weather, money, time, etc.). I have rough ideas and bad lyrics for around 5 songs already, thanks to the gin which I thought would put me to sleep.

The gin was rather expensive. I never thought alcohol would get so expenesive in here actually. I remember last summer it was at least 5€ cheaper. I don't know what has happened, may it be weird taxes or just that they feel like putting up the price in the supermarket. Whichever.

This post actually has no meaningful nor and bit of imagination in it, I just want to let you guys know I have been semi looking for a job and trying to make myself useful these days.

Later- when I'm more sober.

Animal Planet #3

2006-05-16T09:23:00.000-07:00

Weird things that I learnt tonight:

Animal Planet again. It is just fun seeing animals doing all sorts of things at late night. It is entertaining and informative. Better than those crappy music channels which show fake reality programs instead. So. Ever jealous of X-men? Ever wanna shoot some killer red things out of your eyes? Some kind of spiky lizards can actually do it. They shoot blood out of their eyes. I saw it on the program and I swear it is real. It increases its own blood pressure in the eyes and then squirt squirt squirt and voilà! The enemy's scared away and the eyes will be okay after a while.

Something called elephant-nosed fish are able to conduct phone sex. I am not sure if they are really called elephant-nosed fish but that's what I caught. So everyone knows some fishes transmit electric signals to communicate. For that kinda fish, they can even have phone sex. In case a metal wire or a phone like or a whatever connects two pools, and it happens that a male is on one and a female the other, the female can release eggs after a few minutes of flirting and courting...
So not only humans do phone sex. Those pathetic little fishes.

It is believed that whales can sense and visualize magnetic fields generated by the earth or something like that. So when they swim in the sea they actually see some kind of weird channels and landscapes. That might explain why they crash on beaches sometimes. One goes the wrong way which leads to the beaches and the pack follows...
Then again it might be sort of fun to see all these non existant stuff w/o taking any harmful drugs. Imagine. Constantly seeing things. Then again you won't think it is interesting if you're constantly seeing things. It will be interesting when you don't see things instead.

Dolphins have sonar stun guns which resonates with the floating bladders of fish, and hence make the little fishies go all confused and lost. There we have it, another big lunch. Some other fishes actually use electricity directed at preys to paralyze them for a sec too. See? Stun guns were used in the sea long before us. Who says we are cleverer than animals? Who says we are not animals anyway?

Ever seen those flourescent UV light fly traps? Maybe some of you who live in colder places don't need that. But something like that exists. Anyway. Flies are attracted to UV light-reflecting objects. They think they found daylight and go all mad flying the UV traps. So something called gold spiders use UV light traps too. Way before the artifical ones are invented. A normal spider web with parts of weirder strings or lacing that reflects more UV light, it basically looks like an organic flourescent fly trap. Works magic.

Ah wonder why (mostly male) dogs like feet/lower legs? So now I know. They say toes smell like horny female dogs. Should I even say more?

There are some more interesting things like crows liking cigarettes (actually any flashy thing but anyway) and causing 'mysterious' fires in some houses; small toads go into rock cracks and not wanting to go out because food (bugs) always go in there anyway, get stuck in the rock as the poor toads grow old and freak people out; oh, I can also mention fish rains. In short, whirlwinds reach pools or lakes, suck fishes and what not in the water up, brings the stuff in other places and what goes up must come back down... splat splat splat.

Done with the little natural biology lesson today.

Later kids.

So I could be sleeping by now

2006-05-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

...but maybe I should write a little bit just to let everyone know I am doing alright.

Let's talk about the flekkeland trip first. We were really welcomed by the kids and some new kids, although we get some weird looks from time to time- then again that's understandable. I mean, it's me and vittu. Who doesn't like to look at beautiful beings or art pieces of miracle? I bet My 0 years do. Nah, seriously, I bet it's just because we look funny and we behave weird. It was good to be back though. Just an official goodbye to the place. After a week and something's time my 1st years would have been gone and the next time I will be back in flekkeland is either I am invited to run a PBL week, I am employed to teach theatre there (but then I actually might reject the job, I don't fucking wanna teach- no offense, daddy), or at the 10-year reunion, provided that I can afford the tickets and I'm not having a newborn child with me.

And probably you guys read a bit about where we stayed. So... after all these days I think it is long enough ago to reveal a little bit more. Simple as that. We bummed in a room for 2 nights. Somehow students let it slip (well we aren't invisible anyway) that we are in flekkeland and staying around in rooms. So one teacher told another. That another teacher was nice enough to be reasonable and understand our problem and intention (not really like the one teacher) so we bummed at the another teacher's place instead. That was pretty much the whole thing, I just cut out some silly parts like me getting annoyed for pretty much no reasons or something. Just me being a raging teenage boy.

So the accomodation was solved and there came the bacon incident. Vittu should I actually write about that? Nah, you do it when you are not occupied by the kids during the day. I'll probably leave you the bacon and the strong-charactered norwegian transportation system. So folks, press on her to get the stories! Not me, not me!

Teaser lines:

(after the bacon incident)
J*$e: (holding my meat) is this your...?
[He puts THE meat into his mouth]
*me giggles while typing that*

[Ring! Ring!]
a first year of ours from IH: shit this is fucking stupid! they ran away! @$)(&*(_!#_($*@!_($*#!$@##!$#!#*(_#T*~~!!!

d.: nah, last time when I waited for this bus, it was like 20 minutes late... it will come.

vittu: go take a slash then...

vittu: what part of 'no batteries' does he not understand?

'We paid and we got a ride... 3 of us, 40 minutes of fun.'

'Coming soon... on vittu's blog.'

About what I actually did with the kids in flekkeland... they'll come later. I spent most of my time at the smokers corner, then with Gerbrith, Tiger, MY 1st year/s and s.

Lots of talk, lots of thoughts, lots of memories, lots of fun.
Somehow I don't say 'have fun, kids' as often anymore.
Somehow I use different exclaimations in different countries:
Finland: Oho! Hoppla! Hopsa! Hoppa! Eh?
Canada: Scheiße! Verdammt! Fuck! Aye. Weeee! Hops! Hoppla! Ooops.
Hong Kong: Aiya! Scheiße! Fuck! Shit! Oh. Ooop. Hoppla! Hopsa!
Norway: Most of them I think, remember any that I didn't use, vittu or other folks and kids?
Switzerland: All of the above I think, as far as I remember. I can try to prove it and take notes next winter.

Shine on, all you sweetie pies who are still in flekkeland.

Especially the soon-to-be mother of a pair of lovely, lovely twins.

Ja, du.

Animal Planet #2

2006-05-15T11:52:00.000-07:00

Seeing numerous scenes of elephants chasing the cameras... I want to experience one.

The airport stories may come up, if I still remember them.

Animal Planet

2006-05-14T12:37:00.000-07:00

You guys just see this coming, did you not?
Hong Kong and Animal Planet.

Just a short note... I was watching metamorphoses of butterflies and moths. No, not the Metamorphoses by Ovid- I'm done with mythology already.

Even though moths are fucking disgusting in my not so humble opinion, it was damn amazing to see how they recorded nearly every detail of the metamorphosis and with some animated images now I finally kinda know how that actually happens. Now I'm watching how penguin babies develope in eggs.

If there were no Animal Planet for me to watch, I guess life would become so dull when I cannot sleep. As you all know, I quite dislike television in general, 'cept Animal Planet and some cartoons, maybe some documentaries and on the rare occasion of good movies.

Anyway. I will write more about the flights and all that, then maybe about animals, or even more details on the cellphone town-flekkeland trip.

It's good to dream for real again, it will be all good from now on.

Hong Kong

2006-05-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

Just went back to Hong Kong today.
Nothing too interesting happened yet- though I was searched at nearly every airport I went to. At least I got a lot of weird looks from the customs people. Someone managed to cheat $60 from me at Vancouver airport. I'll write about it in detail after getting some sleep- I do appreciate that guy's acting and confidence though. Just that now I know there are evil people in the real world... this incident proves that I'm way too childish and naïve for the real grown up world. :)

Everything is going fine, even better than before.

Wish I could stay in cellphone town for a bit longer.
Also wish I could stay in Flekke for a bit longer.
I wish it was time to snow again.

I am still alive.

2006-05-03T06:02:00.000-07:00

Just a short update. I will write more, a lot more later.

So I was in Vittu's for a while, tagging along her in the kindergarten she's working in. It was great fun, majorly seeing her, and her parents and the kindergarten little buggers. Now we're back at flekkeland and the kids are happy but some (or one) teacher(s) were not that happy because we were bumming at some kids' rooms for a while. Luckily M. the house mentor of S.H. kinda saved us for a few nights and then J. the bio teacher suggested maybe we can stay in the hobbit hole (that thing in front of snikkarbua where everyone must have been in there at least once, sitting, talking, drinking or smoking). Mr. Rektor and Mrs. Rektor were acutally nice and not bitching about us bumming around. Sigh. Funny how bitchy some teacher/s can get, even when the rektor couple don't seem to mind at all.

Um, have I written about I kind of am a major in theatre now? Yeah, that's pretty much about it. Nothing special to talk about. I will get a tattoo or something when we got back to Nokia on monday. Then one more week at the Santaland and I'll head back to dear o'Hong Kong. Don't know what it is, but I actually don't find Hong Kong THAT repulsive anymore- even talking to my family can seem fun at time.

And I'll write more later- life's been still good if not better.

'Have fun, kids.'

Last post 'fore I leave for summer.

2006-04-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

So the audition.

I think it was alright. Not sure if it was good or bad or anything. Guess I'll know next Tuesday and I can decide if I'll get a tattoo to celebrate or go on a multiple-week misery journey and try to figure out what to do.

As I'm cleaning and packing now I found out how dirty a room can actually get after 6 months of absolutely NO cleaning at all. Kind of fun. I start to wonder if my luggage will be overweight or something. Let's all hope it won't, hmm? But the bus+train ride tomorrow is going to be hell- there is absolutely no fucking way I can take all my shit around on public transport without annoying either myself or somebody else. Yes, I can take a cab. But it is gonna cost me money, no? So I guess I won't. And let's hope I won't forget to take out money tomorrow at the airport. I better write it down on my arm honestly.

Flights. In a way I am not too fond of flights. Short ones are fine, as long as I don't have to switch flights for a 100 times. Long ones could be torturing especially when even the movies start to get boring. I hope they'll show Ice Age 2 or something. Tee-hee. Ugh. Actually there aren't much to write. Not even about the audition. There weren't that many interesting things. Well, I was the only guy in my group. That was a bit awkward. I'll see what goes on in the coming few weeks.

Some of you will, too.

Heute versuche ich auf deutsch schreiben.

2006-04-13T21:44:00.000-07:00

Die Mythologieprüfung hatte ich heute. Sicher bin ich, dass sie war nicht zu böse. Ich ist nicht die letzte Vorlesung (?) geganganen, aber ich habe die Powerpoint-präsentation von der Professor gelesen, und es habe die Fragen dieses Jahr gegeben. Ich glaube, dass alles aber ich nach der vorlesung die gewusst habe. Hatte ich viel glück, weil ich nie seine Präsentationen lese. Na ja, dann ich habe die antworten den MC Fragen auch gewusst. Ach, was noch habe ich getan? Nichts, ich glaube. Die Sackpfeife-thingy ist noch nicht hier. Ich weiß nicht, was passiert ist. Hoffentlich kommt die vor 18th. Hoffentlich. Ugh, ich habe etwas kein Geld in meiner 'Essenkarte'- das meint, dass ich ausessen muss. (Does the word ausessen exist actually?)

I am pretty sure I messed some grammar up. Especially word order and the occasional trial to use the genitive case which I haven't learnt and probably won't (at least in class- don't think I will take german courses next semester). Well at least I tried. Probably I'll get myself a dictionary and then go on reading my German book myself and keep myself from forgetting what I have learnt.

All thee who master the throat crashing European tongue, I beseech (?) you, fear not of anything for I myself make solemn requsts for generous corrections of the humble attempt of mine.

All of you who do speak proper english can also correct the weird paragraph above.

So... I'm pretty much just bored, honestly. Maybe I should just watch Trainspotting for the ten balouzavillionth time. Ah. Time to practise juggling a bit.

Unproduvtive, no?

2006-04-12T21:00:00.000-07:00

Been doing minimal studying today and yesterday. Spend the whole day yesterday starting a new play named temporarily 'fairies dancing on the lawn'. This is a play of quite different style from what I usually think of/actually write down. Apparently it's inspired by the newspaper clipping I posted before. It's more like a tragedy with a slight touch of children's story. I will see how this goes- I might even blend in old ideas and half finished plays into that play 'cause it indeed would make sense no matter what I put in 'fairies'. Would be interesting to finish and polish that play.

Something happened today. Holding my key, I anxiously force it into the keyhole with my shaking, half-awake, nicotine craving hands. Crush crash chuh. It's in. I took a deep breath and whispered, 'bitte, bitte!' Then came a little squeak from the lock itself and I pulled the little metal door of my mailbox. It looked like a hollow cave. It is one indeed- no little slip telling me that I got a package. i.e. the practise goose (the bagpipe thingy) still hasn't come yet. Well, there are always tomorrows, I suppose.

Speaking of tomorrow, I'll have my exam. Can't wait. Actually it's in 10 and a half hours. 0830 tomorrow. Just want to get that gods raping people and endless repetitive violent scenes out of my head. Vittu experienced how severe my case of mythology-information overload is. A bunch of names and events. A pile of them.

Fairies do dance on the lawn, I tell you.

Spare a minute and read this.

2006-04-11T12:44:00.000-07:00

'Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there.'

Clickety click to enlarge.

I play mouse,

2006-04-10T20:08:00.000-07:00

and all the mythology readings play cat. How rare that I am willing to play something other than a cat.

I don't understand my room. It is never lit properly after 3pm. It is usually too dim for even reading. Even in Spring. The petty light mounted on the wall of my room gives literally yellow light. Like an ERS without gels at 30. Or at most like one with a yellow gel at 70. I am not kidding. So a couple months ago I actually went to IKEA and got a desklamp. That things is bright and looks fancy. I kind of like it. But the beam is way too focused so it basically makes the pages look brighter than the sun. Right, move away from the lamp a bit, eh? I said the beam is WAY too focused and I am not kidding. And for some reasons everything outside my window absorbs and reflect light at all the wrong times. It's not like I've got a spectacular view anyway. I can only see the next residence building. Happy that I probably don't have to live in this room anymore.

So the campus has gone pretty quiet. Not that I have been around much these days- got readings to catch up with. Today I got sort of irritated by Odeipus though. The play is unneccessarily hideously long and boring, filled with exaggerated and loose chorus lines. Don't recall doing anything else except that. Probably I will read some other tragedies later on. Probably not.

Remember the practise bagpipe thing I talked about? It still hasn't arrived. Don't know what the fuck is wrong with that ebay seller who claims to be in Canada, but the thing hasn't arrived 20 days after the payment went through. Liar. What if I don't get the thing before I leave? I want my new toy (but then it's not like I will have time to fiddle with it until summer...)!

Information overload. I mean, mythology overload. It can be pleasant when one's reading a good translation of the Iliad or the Odyssey. But not those rather dull Greek tragedies. Can't wait until Thursday. I just want the thing done and done for (I don't even know if that means anything).

Still learning how to juggle.

I was reading through blogs and whatnot- I realize I do can understand people's writing styles by now. Of course the layout of blogs do help, but I rarely pay attention to it anyway.

How much scattered, unrelated info am I going to give in this post?

Somehow, just somehow I miss a few moments in my acting class a lot. No, I don't really care to elaborate. I can assure you though, no wild hot sexual fantasies or mad violent fights are included. Just gentle, still moments and yet so alive and powerful. The moments that I am actually living in the present.

Boy I started to enjoy the present? That's strange.

For a moment I wanted to delete everything in this post and squeeze a wannabe clever and deep post out of my hair instead.

I haven't touched anything containing alcohol for... more than a week at least. Strange. I'm running out of tobacco too.

'Stop the song, and remember what you used to be-
Somebody that fucking impressed me.'

From 'The Bright Young Things'. I can see so many people singing (actually, in the song, whispering) that line to me. Just so many.