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God, I love this video...
And this one too, of course. I need to be that poutine for Halloween.
Not to mention that sometimes I wish that I were as cool as Gabbo (please let that be a Simpsons reference) from Omnikrom. |
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For my own curiosity's sake, really:
Most listened to tracks by week, 2008
12/31 - 1/6 - Profit Money & D-Why, "Country Roads Remix"
1/7 - 1/13 - Alizée, "Moi... Lolita"
1/14 - 1/20 - Pulp, "Like a Friend"
1/21 - 1/27 - Serge Gainsbourg, "69 Année Érotique"
1/28 - 2/3 - Serge Gainsbourg, "69 Année Érotique"/The Knife, "We Share Our Mothers' Health"/Roxy Music, "Virginia Plain"
2/4 - 2/10 - Girls Aloud, "Call the Shots"/楊千嬅, <<陌路>>
2/11 - 2/17 - Modern Lovers, "Modern World"/Modern Lovers, "Someone I Care About"/Ariane Moffatt, "Petit Animal"
2/18 - 2/24 - Jeanette, "Porque Te Vas"
2/25 - 3/2 - Ariane Moffatt, "Petit Animal"
3/3 - 3/9 - Lio, "Le Banana Split"
3/10 - 3/16 - Koxie, "Garçon"
3/17 - 3/23 - Duffy, "Mercy"
3/24 - 3/30 - 楊千嬅, <<化>>
3/31 - 4/6 - 官恩娜, <<地平線>>
4/7 - 4/13 - Najoua Belyzel, "Gabriel"
4/14 - 4/20 - Najoua Belyzel, "Gabriel"
4/21 - 4/27 - Najoua Belyzel, "Gabriel"
4/28 - 5/4: Crystal Castles, "Magic Spells"/Crystal Castles, "Alice Practice"/Crystal Castles vs. Health, "Crimewave"/Kate Nash, "Pumpkin Soup"
5/5 - 5/11: Najoua Belyzel, "Gabriel"
5/12 - 5/18: Omnikrom, "Danse la poutine (avec TTC)"
5/19 - 5/25: Omnikrom, "Danse la poutine (avec TTC)"/Omnikrom, "Été Hit"
5/26 - 6/1: Jacques Dutronc, "J'aime les filles"
6/2 - 6/8: Omnikrom, "Été Hit"
6/9 - 6/15: Kinderkoor Prettig Weekend, "Hup Holland Hup"
6/16 - 6/22: Omnikrom, "Danse le poutine (avec TTC)/Omnikrom, "Été Hit"/King Geedorah, "Fazers"
6/23 - 6/29: Ariane Moffatt, "Réverbère"/Ariane Moffatt, "En l'air (intermède)"
6/30 - 7/6:
Most listened to artists by week, 2008
12/31 - 1/6: The Knife
1/7 - 1/13: Galaxie 500
1/14 - 1/20: XTC
1/21 - 1/27: The Knife
1/28 - 2/3: The Knife
2/4 - 2/10: Mirah
2/11 - 2/17: The Knife
2/18 - 2/24: Quasi
2/25 - 3/2: Manic Street Preachers
3/3 - 3/9: Girls Aloud
3/10 - 3/16: El Perro del Mar
3/17 - 3/23: Girls Aloud
3/24 - 3/30: 楊千嬅
3/31 - 4/6: 楊千嬅
4/7 - 4/13: Cansei de ser Sexy
4/14 - 4/20: Camille
4/21 - 4/27: Manic Street Preachers
4/28 - 5/4: Yo La Tengo
5/5 - 5/11: 周杰倫
5/12 - 5/18: Omnikrom
5/19 - 5/25: Omnikrom
5/26 - 6/1: Wire
6/2 - 6/8: Ariane Moffatt
6/9 - 6/15: The Knife
6/16 - 6/22: The Knife
6/23 - 6/29: Ariane Moffatt
From these lists we can tell that I am still obsessed with The Knife (who have a chance of becoming one of my three most listened to artists over the past two years), love a ton of shit that is not in English and prefer that my pop songs are sung by females.
I'm pretty sure that the song that'll top my charts this week is Duffy's Mercy. It's not even that great but God, I can't resist its charm.Current Music: El Perro del Mar, "Party" |
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First place in the conference at this juncture of the season in fifteen years! Oh Habbies, how I love you so. I can't believe that at this time tomorrow, I'll have seen them play the Sharks in San Jose. Go Habs Go. |
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Don't bother saying you're sorry
Why don't you come in?
Smoke all my cigarettes again...
Every time I get no further
How long has it been?
Come on in now
Wipe your feet on my dreams
You take up my time
Like some cheap magazine
When I could've been learning something
Oh well, you know what I mean
I've done this before and I will do it again
Come on and kill me, baby, while you smile like a friend
And I'll come running... just to do it again
You are the last drink I never should've drunk
You are the body hidden in the trunk
You are the habit I can't seem to kick
You are my secrets on the front page every week
You are the car I never should've bought
You are the train I never should've caught
You are the cut that makes me hide my face
You are the party that makes me feel my age
You're like a car crash I can see but I just can't avoid
Like a plane I've been told I never should board
Like a film that's so bad but I've got to stay till the end
Let me tell you now it's lucky for you that we're friends... |
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Today is eighteen years since 6/4 (Tiananmen Square protests of 1989) and I think the saddest thing is that, yes, while the PRC government and the People's Liberation Army acted in a completed horrifiying and cowardly manner, I am not so confident that other governments around the world would not act in a similar manner if faced with a similar situation.
The smartest thing the PRC did was doing nothing when the handover of Hong Kong was completed. There was initial talk and fear of mass arrests of individuals, of PLA troops on every corner. If only something had happened once again, perhaps we would be free now instead of fighting for some diluted form of universal suffrage and democracy. |
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This is life before everything changes in a couple of days.
Lying down with my head at the foot of the bed and staring at the three holes punctured into the ceiling, back when I had lanterns and not a bedside table lamp. I lie there with my hands behind my head and my elbows pointing off in two separate directions while music that could unfortunately be described as "loungy" by some plays in the background. It's there, but it's not dominating the room. I don't feel the need to really pay attention, to sing along, not that I could if I was asked to.
This is life spent in silence, except to occasionally talk to myself and non-ironically refer to myself as "dude". Life spent in silence, in diametrical opposition to the life spent talking (in my head and to others) that will take place this week, that has always taken place because I am paid to talk, to communicate, to placate, to put a nice spin on things when they go bad, to prod, to nudge, to motivate without hurting feelings or being discouraging. I've gotten good at talking, but bad at saying anything. I talked to Emily's sister's boyfriend the other night and thought to myself that I sounded too much like I do at work, too "on" and not really myself, like when I'm talking to people who are in social classes that I can never imagine being part of. I sat and paired an award winning novel from the turn of the century with bastardised immigrant food while listening to the non-stop conversation from the couple next to me and wondered if I can manage to say anything, to hold a true conversation anymore.
My day off, my only truly guaranteed day off until God knows when and I spent it making something I saw on a television show hosted by a much maligned celebrity chef. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Has life been reduced to marinating chicken drumettes with teriyaki sauce and crushed pineapples? Until today, I had no idea that pineapples came in so many packaging options, all guaranteed to be one hundred percent Hawaiian as if my purchase of pineapples would be guided by patriotic principle.
My fingernails smell like fake flowery fabric softener and the bath tub smells like plastic. The light that the aforementioned bedside lamp gives off is too bright for my tastes, too bright for someone of my disposition.
This will be life after everything changes in a couple of days, too.Current Music: Emilie Simon, "Chanson de Toile" |
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So I find myself here on a Wednesday with a day off, sitting and staring into the alley through the windows of a small, homely sandwich place. I was going to have a Stella or even skip alcohol since I am waiting for happy hour to start at Dan & Louis' Oyster Bar two doors down, but I'm working on a five dollar glass of the house wine here.
This morning on the bus downtown to meet up with Tim & Brian to watch the Portugal/France match (Allez France!) on the big screen in Pioneer Courthouse Square, I basically wrote everything I wanted to say in my head and ended up thinking about what exactly it would take for someone to invent a device that would read my thoughts and post them onto a computer. Since the chances of that technology being readily available & affordable are slim, we'll have resort to attempting to duplicate what I thought about while listening to Yo La Tengo as the bus worked its way west on Division.
On Thursday, I believe, I received a txt message from Abra informing me that Brian finally told his ex-girlfriend, Emily (Donaldson-Fletcher), that he was dating one of our other roommates, Gillian. I was sort of shocked and wondered how that transpired. When Abra, Jolina and Abra's friend all went out on Friday, Jolina and I talked at length about that situation and what Emily must be dealing with right now. I have always felt this kinship with Emily (or Duffie, as I like to call her) because I have this notion that her and I were in the same role in terms of our respective relationships. In fact, during the few times we hung out on our own, she always seemed to talk about her situation with Brian while I would talk about Malia. Anyway, in talking with Jolina and trying to explain how Duffie must be feeling, I talked about my situation with Malia and what similarities and differences it must have with her situation with Brian. I keep feeling like I have been pretty good in terms of getting over Malia, but talking and thinking about it seems to be the opposite of what the doctor ordered. Now I find myself slipping into this mode where small things like looking at a map of Seattle or listening to a Doves song makes me think of her, which in turn makes me feel like I've been punched in the stomach.
I think why this whole Malia situation is tough for me is because I am in this sort of purgatory. On one hand, I can't forget her and doubt that I ever would want to. I am the type of person who likes to remember all his experiences and try to learn and grow from them, which is always easier said than done. On the other hand, I also have no desire to see her, email her, text her or to get her back. It's this second ending of the relationship, if you will, that I am really struggling with. Her dumping me to go back to Jeff? I'm fine with that. Like I told her at the time, I fully understood because I had done the same thing to Natasha to go back to Emily many years ago. I wanted her to be happy or at least have this illusion of being happy. However, when things started getting weird in the time period from October to February, that's when it really got bad for me. I can't fathom why she would say all these things that she said to me, when she directly told me that she understood that I was someone with strong feelings. To this day, I am still so furious with her for acting the way she acted, even though I understand how awkward it must have been for her. I also know that part of my problem is that unlike Duffie, I never actually let Malia know how I truly felt. I took the high road and I'm glad I did, but sometimes I wish I could let her know how much she hurt me. I think what scares me is that if this situation in which I gave my best, was understanding and accomodating with someone that I clicked so well with (and when things were good, we really liked each other so much, even though in a way, I feel like we were an odd couple), what hope to I have with someone else? If my best has led to failure, then the rest will also end in failure, right?
While watching the fireworks on the bluffs by Oaks Bottom last night, I stared off into the West Hills and for a moment or two, it reminded me of the way I failed to understand the geography of Seattle. Everytime I enter Seattle while driving north on I-5, I just have this lack of understanding of what's to the west of the industrial area and train yards. West Seattle? How can there be a West Seattle when the city is sitting right on the Sound? Seattle has always felt mysterious to me and even the proudest Portlander would probably admit that Seattle is more beautiful than Portland. Looking at the West Hills, I felt lost, too. Looking at an area that I didn't understand and one that looked similar to various parts of Seattle. In a way, I seek solace in trying to trick myself that I'm lost in a city that I know so well. I know I do it because it's some form of escapism, that I can maybe pretend that I don't know this town, don't know the people here and that maybe I can be someone different and just be anonymous (even though my lack of a social life certainly renders me anonymous, anyway). I think back to that day that I drove to Seattle and it is the loneliest feeling, the loneliest day that I have experienced in years. I wandered up and down Broadway waiting for a call that only came as I was driving through Centralia. I tried to distract myself with window shopping, with a visit to our store in Seattle (where the kindness of my Seattle co-workers, along with all the hours spent on the phone with Emily, Jolina, Eric and Annie, probably saved me from feeling like I hit rock bottom), with beers at a bar, with record shopping, but in the end it still felt so incredibly lonely. I abhor that day, but a part of me yearns for that loneliness again. I was foolish and stupid to go up there that day, but I'm glad I did it and I'm glad this whole thing finally was ended. Because of that day, I feel like Seattle remains off limits to me. I some times think about going up for the day to see the Mariners or just to get out of town, but I know that for the near future, Seattle will always hold memories of Malia for me and because of that, it makes it rather difficult for me to go there. I know that when I am there, the whole time will be spent in a funk because I will just be thinking of her and how things ended.
I look back on all of this and I really want to be at a point where I can truly appreciate all the good times we had. I think that because of those good times we had, it will always be difficult to truly despise her. I can despise what she did (or didn't do), but I don't think I can ever hate the person behind those actions. She & I had some great times together and she showed me affection like no one else has for years and for that I feel like I can't have a grudge with her.
Yes, this is one of those cloudy Portland days that make me think of disappearing, of getting lost in this city. The sun, the stupid sun has finally disappeared for a few days and we're left with this grey backdrop to all of our actions, thoughts and desires. I like that it is a little on the chilly side and I'm actually grateful for it. I'm grateful to nature for deciding to match my mood. While I am in no way in a bad mood, I do find myself on the pensive side this afternoon. This is, in effect, a perfect day to listen to Yo La Tengo and Galaxie 500.
Besides all this internal struggle with the Malia situation, I find myself getting rather frustrated with events at my place of employment. I remain confident that things will work themselves out, but am growing impatient at the fact that my promotion is still not official and that I have yet to properly negotiate my wages. Besides all that it seems increasingly doubtful that I will take a vacation in August since the timetable for the opening of the new store basically falls within my vacation days and the fact that one of my co-workers is going to quit in August and that my boss just had a kid and won't be back anytime soon. I just can't see myself being able to leave since we'd be so incredibly shorthanded. Then again, all this is super boring if you don't work with me. I must say though, that this is all rather exciting if you are indeed employed by Mario's.
It's funny because years ago, I would spend my days at the Half and Half with no job and no school. I would sporadically look for jobs but would instead just wonder about what the hell I would be doing to make money. Most jobs scared the shit out of me, that I was too good for them, that it'd be like my first job where I telemarketed to people living in the less glamourous parts of Washington, such as Kennewick or Wenatchee. Now that it's two years later, I find myself with a secure job, on the verge of a promotion despite only investing a little over a year into my job. I snuck in through the back door and now I'm here and no longer have to worry about work. I bring this up because I can only hope that this is how my love life is going to end up, that it'll randomly fall into my lap and before I know it, I'll feel like while it's been hard work, it'll also feel like it's easy and everything will work out fine, just like my job. I can only take solace in the fact that Portland seems to be teeming with attractive young women and even though I have no idea how to meet them or talk to them, at least they are attractive.
Vive la France! Allez France! |
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(This is probably the worst thing I've written about Tiananmen in all these years. All apologies to those who gave up their lives. You deserve much better from myself.)
In midst of all my personal battles that I am losing at every turn, in the back of my mind is that in a few short hours here in the Pacific standard time zone, it will be June 4th, yet again. I make it a point to always write on this date, as my small, small way of paying tribute to what happened seventeen years ago in Tiananmen Square.
Through the years, I think that anything I have to say about Tiananmen has already been said. It's amazing to watch China progress at its current rate, to be bandied about as the next superpower and yet so many there either know nothing about June 4th or refuse to publicly admit anything about June 4th. June 4th to someone my age is the most despicable thing that the government of the PRC has done. Unfortunately, there are many more from where that came from.
It's weird because in a way, if I hear others criticising China, a defense mechanism kicks in, where I automatically defend her, yet the same things that people say about China are things that I've said and thought, too. I've always had a rather love/hate relationship with the Mainland. On one hand, I think that as Chinese people, whether we're Mainlanders, Hong Kongers or Taiwanese, we should stick together. Then again, I know we're all different and we all sort of dislike each other for a myriad of reasons, some appropriate, such as the 228 Incident or the Central Government's (PRC) handling of SARS.
It's so weird because every year I think that June 4th is less significant to me than it was the previous year and that for once, I won't be crying when I basically have 血染的風采 (Grace of Our Bloodstain) playing on a loop.
Every year, I'm wrong.
(For Hong Kong, I can only hope that before I die, that someday we will have a real democracy where if we make mistakes, at least they're OUR mistakes to make.)
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This is a low, but it won't hurt you
When you're alone it will be there with you
Finding ways to stay so low...
The weekend before she came down to see us and honestly, really to see me, I was nervous about the gesture of giving her a mix tape I had made. I figured that maybe there wouldn't be so much pressure because mix tapes seem to run in indie circles, whereas she was really the antithesis of indie. However, I knew that that was just a lie to try to make myself feel better, to take any nervousness out of the situation. I can't quite remember how long I spent on the tape, except that there was a night or two that I became really frustrated because I couldn't quite get the tape down. I ended up finishing the cover to her tape the day that she was arriving into Portland, cutting out a picture of a daredevil BMX rider leaping over the Great Wall of China from some year in review magazine that came with a South China Morning Post. She seemed like she enjoyed the gift and more importantly, she understood what the tape meant and all that it carried with it. I sometimes wonder where the tape is, whether she's binned it or if it's just in some anonymous box in the basement of her abode.
There are two reasons why I mention this tonight. First off, This is a Low is pretty much my favourite Blur song (that or Young and Lovely) and it ended up as the last song of the tape. This is a Low has never meant anything to me in terms of lyrics. After all, legend says that it was written while Damon Albarn was listening to weather forecasts for shipping lanes on the radio. However, the atmosphere that that song generates has resonated with me since I became a bit older and loved Blur for more of their challenging work as opposed to pop song after pop song. I love it's quick geographical tour of the British Isles, I love the guitar and I love the fact that it (almost) ends Parklife.
I also bring all of this up because I had a wonderful evening with Shasta on Friday night. We met after I got off work and headed down to a trendy Japanese restaurant downtown. With it being Friday night, it was quite packed, which led to our food taking a ridiculous amount of time to get to us. It didn't really matter, as the time just flew by with both of us just talking and talking, seemingly with no natural lulls in the conversation. Since we're also co-workers, we talked a bit about work, mainly our new co-worker, but mainly we talked about our own romantic situations and the headaches involved.
The past month has been spent in anger, or at least my feelings towards her have been very angry. I have made a vow that I am not getting in touch with her whatsoever. If she were to get in touch with me, I would respond, but I am no longer making that effort. I have been angry at the way things fell apart and the manner in which they were handled. During our two hour stay at the Japanese restaurant, Shasta brought up a situation in which there were uncanny parallels to my situation and it opened my eyes a bit to the way that she may have been thinking. How things went from unchecked excitement in regards to my upcoming visit to all of a sudden freaking out and not being able to see me at all. How she had the audacity to say to me that she didn't want to lead me on because she knew that I was a person with very strong feelings, yet with that knowledge, still flippantly ran her mouth about various things that she knew I would take seriously.
I don't know what I'm trying to say here. I don't know if I miss her or not, I really don't. I find myself really, really isolating myself from everybody. I've been bad with emails, I've been bad with phone calls. There have been too many nights spent alone, nights in which there is no excuse for not going out and attempting to be social and yet, like tonight, I find myself alone in my room, singing along to whatever songs that the iPod throws up for me.
Once again, the only justification I have for any of this is that this is the way that things have to be, that this is the price I have to pay. My question now is that I have no idea what I'm paying for and how much it's going to cost.
(And at the same time, I really just want to go out and meet girls)Current Music: 達明一派, "天花亂墜". |
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Yeah, it's a little late to be posting a picture from Halloween, but I thought I would share this with all who have not seen it.
-- Sadly, this was before I got really, really drunk on Halloween itself.Current Music: Sleater-Kinney, "Turn It On". |
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I remember napping with you on a Saturday afternoon after I read to you from I am Charlotte Simmons. You tried to explain to me various characters and seemed shocked when I read from a chapter that I assumed contained some sort of plot twist. Our friends were in the room across the hall while we laid there together and listened to the chatter and laughter coming from that direction. I wanted us to sleep to something quiet that we could even halfway ignore, so I put on Summer Sun.
Later on, my good friend told me that he and your best friend used to take naps to Summer Sun too and that when his girlfriend heard the beginning of Beach Party Tonight, she thought he was playing Summer Sun and not us.
"Another day come and gone
Don't think I can ever sing that song
Little secrets we bring along
I'm taking my time, trailing behind
I thought of you
Today is the day I think of you..."
(I really, really love this song)Current Music: Yo la Tengo, "Today is the Day" |
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I have this on-going crush on a very attractive young woman who rides the same bus as I do when I head off to work in the morning morning. I have never spoken to her and our only interaction has been when she said "Excuse me" when she had to get off the bus the one time we sat together. I have no idea what her name is and have never seen her anywhere else besides on the bus. When I saw 2046, it sort of weirded me out because the way Faye Wong's character (the hotel owner's daughter, not the robot) looked reminded me of this girl, even though this girl is white. I saw her reading a biography about Marc Bolan once and she wears what I call an orange mackintosh, even though I am neither sure it is orange or a mackintosh. Henceforth, I always refer to her as Orange Mackintosh Girl, or OMG.
It honestly starts my day off on the right foot when I see her on the bus, although I never make eye contact with her and usually just stare at the back of her head. Sometimes I spend my bus ride glancing at her hands or at her nose, two of my favourite body parts on women.
This morning, I was listening to Yo La Tengo* on the iPod and thought of her:
"Take a look at that girl with the light shining out of her eyes
She's gotta be somebody's baby, yeah, she must be somebody's baby
All the guys on the corner stand back and let her walk on by
She's gotta be somebody's baby, yeah, she must be somebody's baby
She's gotta be somebody's baby 'cause she's so fine..."
So OMG, whomever you are and whatever it is you do, you brighten up some guy's life.Current Music: Yo La Tengo, "Sugarcube" |
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Music I've been enjoying recently:
M.I.A./Diplo - Piracy Funds Terrorism
-- Yeah, I'm awfully late on this one. I am particularly in love with Bingo, what with its cricket references and such. I also enjoy Pop because it uses the same sample that Chapelle's Show uses.
Ashlee Simpson - Boyfriend
-- Not as good as, say, Autobiography, La La or even Love Me For Me. Throwaway pop, with the emphasis on the throwaway bit. However, as long as she does uptempo songs like Boyfriend, I'll be happy. The last thing we need is another one of her songs to sound like Shadow.
Ashlee Simpson - Autobiography/La La/Love Me For Me
-- Because they're much better than Boyfriend.
Jaylib - McNasty Filth
-- The lyrics are wrong and funny. I love this song for uh... personal reasons too.
Oasis - Columbia
-- I listen to this and think it's so good... and then think to myself that I should listen to whatever band Oasis ripped off in the process of writing this song. Then again, one of the small things in life I really love is to listen to Definitely Maybe loudly on a weekend morning and attempt to sing like Liam Gallagher.
Kanye West - Late Registration
-- Makes me want to listen to College Dropout. I have decided that I am sick of songs by rappers about their moms/grandmothers. Paul Wall is as close to a guilty pleasure as I have.
If you'd like to hear some of these songs on Saturday*, you should come by the big birthday extravaganza we're having. Details as follows:
What: The birthdays of Heather, Miranda, Charley and myself. There will be much merriment, some food, a lot of booze, music, conversations with people you'll never meet again, along with people trying to get numbers from other people.
When: September 24th, Saturday. You know, the same day that Oregon will beat USC at Autzen. It starts at regular party time. Basically, please don't show up at the house at seven or anything crazy like that.
Where: Caruthers World
Last but not least, because I am on the verge of becoming very frustrated with life (that's what a phone conversation with the parents do to me), here is a list of things I love about life:
1. My ability to turn any shitty pop song into some meaningful treatise about my life, especially my love life.
2. Vitamin Water. The Gerolsteiner of '05.
3. The Gunex catalogue. Best described as images of hot librarians. No faces shown, though.
4. Ducks football! Tentatively scheduled to go to my first game at Autzen in the beginning of November to watch them play Cal.
5. Starting the apocalypse by wearing a baseball cap to a bar the other night. I think I looked incredibly stupid.
6. Sharing a foot-long roast beef sub from Subway with Steve. We ate it on top of a mailbox after he hid the sandwich in his coat while we were watching Brian's band at a shitty bar.
7. Preparing roe on a Saturday night instead of, say, being at some hot party trying to flirt with girls out of my league.
8. Knowing how to prepare roe, along with shucking oysters. The Gorton's fisherman and I were obviously separated at birth.
9. It's scarf wearing weather in these parts.
10. Selecting Economy Plus seats on United.com and actually taking advantage of my Premier staus for the first time. Although, they've really diluted the Mileage Plus program on a whole, but that's a rant for FlyerTalk and not Livejournal.
11. Seeing anything with a crazy colourful design and calling it "fake Pucci" in my head.
12. Miller High Life in bottles.
13. People receiving baseball cards at a Portland Beavers game and being told to just give them to me.
14. NHL starts in seventeen days. Who needs a girlfriend when you've got Steve Bégin?
15. Sitting in a deserted Savoy on Saturday night with a friend while the bartender lists off many reasons why I shouldn't move to Seattle. This in itself deserves a full entry because it is one of those moments that sums up why I love living in Portland so much.
16. Savoy itself. Portland's best kept secret. I feel bad for them sometimes that it's so quiet in there after around eleven, but it works well for me because I get the jukebox to myself and there's always somewhere to sit. Also, the bartenders are my favourite service industry people, which is a huge accomplishment since they're men and not cute girls I'm trying to flirt with. Next time you're thinking of going to Dot's, try Savoy instead.
17. Comparing my failures (if we can even call them that) with CSG to a Taco Bell being closed and not having a Crunchwrap Supreme. Yeah, I'm crazy.
18. Not feeling bad for not really following the Premiership this season because it seems like no one else is, either.
19. The cute girl who works at New Seasons on Division. In fact, there are quite a few cute girls who work there.
20. Arthur.
I am going to get a coffee on Hawthorne and read the New York Times.
Love,
Kevin
* - If you think I'm kidding (which I know you don't), we are definitely playing the La La twelve-inch that I own.Current Music: Twins, "丟架". |
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It's rather appropriate that I've been feeling a bit lonely the past couple of days, although lonely might not be the correct word. What I mean to say is that it's appropriate that I've been spending so much time alone and no longer trying to rely on others, or at least relying on them to a lesser extent.
On a whim, on Friday night I walked up to Acme to see a show performed by a Texan woman. The show involved costume changes, a recording of a conversation between her mother and her and covers of old country songs. It was, in some way, more of a combination between a musical performance and a play. Afterwards, I kept debating with myself as to where I should eat, thinking of such places as Crush, Squeeze or Reel M' Inn. I almost stopped into a Mexican restaurant on 12th, but they were closing and I didn't feel brave enough to venture into a seemingly deserted Ethiopian restaurant. I ended up walking out of Safeway with a bag of frozen food and was feeling alright until I got home and knew that people were here.
I'm not sure why this past week has been spent thinking about Malia and how things were and how they fell apart. It hurts to think about them, of course, but at this point it's getting to be a consistent dull pain, maybe almost like a bruise. I can't help but retrace the good times and wonder how things have ended up here, where she hasn't written me in almost two weeks and I've pretty much stopped checking my email. It hurts the most to think about her with Jeff, even though I try to convince myself that maybe they aren't together, but I've never been very good at lying to myself. I sometimes wonder if she wants me to fight for her, but I feel that I'm getting too old to play games and I don't want to add any more pressure or stress to her situation. Unlike Jeff, I don't particularly feel like emotionally manipulating her.
In connection to this mess with Malia, I've been spending my days at work thinking about my own personal morality. When the news first broke that something had happened between Jeff & Malia at their friend's wedding (note: I saw that one coming a mile away), I remember saying to someone that I was sick of being the good guy, sick of being the one who would just bear his cross and suffer in silence. At that time, I had trouble understanding why I had to be that person and I understand now. While I don't always want to lose and wish that I didn't have to suffer the burden of pain, I understand that it's something I must do because it is the right thing to do. Besides it being right, there is really no other reason, but I know that I would rather die knowing that I always did my best to choose the right thing instead of gaining what I wanted through deceit, manipulation or causing others pain. The logical part of me can even say to myself that it is best to have one person sad and hurt (myself) and have two people being happy with each other (them). It is also with this attitude that I've been trying to hold back on randomly trying to pull someone or ask someone out who I'm not really that fond of, only for the sake of making myself feel less lonely. I don't want to pass this hurt onto anyone else, even though it would be easy to do so. I'm determined to bear this pain myself.
In a weird way, it makes me feel good about myself. No matter what, I will know that I was and am in the right and that feeling is priceless. I know that I did nothing wrong, that I gave it my all, that I treated her so insanely well at all times and that, hey, like the last three girls I've chased, it honestly has nothing to do with me. I can only do so much to resolve people's issues and I'm willing to help, listen, give time and be there, but if that's not what people want, I can't force anyone into being with me. Basically, I feel like the theme song for my last three almost-relationships would be Mirah's Apples in the Trees, but maybe the coast has never been clear for the other person.
So as far as I can tell, the sun is shining like a red rubber ball on this Saturday afternoon. I like how my hair looks this morning, so I'm contemplating not showering since I showered (and shaved) last night. Maybe I'll start my day off with a Gerolsteiner and then make my way to Sushiland and Lloyd Center, although the exciting part of my day is my date (with myself) at Lauro. Afterwards, I'll probably rejoin mankind at the Disjecta re-opening, Thug Fir for the Satan's Pilgrims show or Suicide Club. Or all three, really.
We'll be alright and we'll live and like 50 Cent says on Hate It Or Love It, "I'm gonna shine, homey, till my heart stops". As much as I sometimes doubt myself, I have so much confidence that I'll be okay in the end and that I'll win. I know that this is the last lesson I have the left to learn, the one in which I need to know how it feels to be the other guy, the one who is left for someone else. I may have understood in the past, but I never experienced it and I need to experience it to fully understand. So what happened four years ago has now been paid for and I've learned my lesson very well.
And I think it's gonna be alright
Yeah, the worst is over now
The morning sun is shining like a red rubber ball...
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More importantly, today is once again June 4th and it marks sixteen years since the Tiananmen Square protests/crackdown of 1989. I don't really know what to say about it today because my reflections on this date are pretty much the same every year. However, I am becoming paranoid that people will end up forgetting about this event, even people like myself. The further I ingrain myself into my life here, into the culture here, the further I drift away from home and start forgetting about things like this.
What almost made me cry while thinking about the protests this year (besides listening to 血染的風采) is the fact that around twenty-two thousand people marked the anniversary of Tiananmen Square in Hong Kong and I always am so impressed and touched by that. In a city where we're always painted as only caring about making money, going to the cinema, eating out, gambling on horses and singing karaoke, it always feels so good to know that people are wrong and that we do care. That despite my fears, we won't forget and I know that I myself will never forget because even though I didn't feel as emotional this week in the run up to this date, I find myself crying once again, like I do every year on this date.
平反六四
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Whenever I roll out of bed twenty minutes before I have to leave for work, I never bother to shower, moisturise or scruff. Of course, on the first day back after the holiday weekend, I did indeed roll out of bed late. I showed up at work with my hair feeling disgusting and greasy, although I quite like the way it feels when I don't wash it or put any leave in conditioner in. At this point, the hair in the back feels like it's becoming mullet-like, which doesn't seem entirely objectable, but I know I only feel this way because of the Fernando Torres picture I saw in a magazine.
The skies finally opened up a bit today and while it was raining during my lunch period, it was actually quite sunny when I got off of work. I took a break in between lunch and the end of the work day so that I could go to Rite Aid to purchase some drugs that would stop my nose from running. I looked so unkempt that I was convinced that the cashier thought I was buying Suphedrine so that I could manufacture meth, which probably wouldn't have been a stretch since the local FOX affiliate would like us to believe that Meth is the biggest problem to ever face Oregon.
When my mother was here visiting a couple weeks ago and we were walking along the Oregon coast, she asked me if I had ever wished that our family was different, perhaps more like a traditional American family, if you will. She told me that my father felt rather guilty that he didn't get to spend very much time with me as he'd have liked. It was weird to hear that they have all this guilt in terms of how they treated me, when I feel like they've been fine parents. I told them that I liked the separation that we keep in terms of son/parents and that I don't really want to be like some people I know where my parents are more my friends than anything else. I'm way too private for that and you know, Chinese people don't do that sort of thing. I wonder why no one in our bloody family can feel okay, instead of feeling guilt for things we shouldn't feel guilty for, including myself.
I regret that I hadn't talked to them earlier about things because they are indeed quite supportive of me. My mother told me that she didn't understand why I didn't attempt to go into broadcasting, as I seemed to enjoy myself so much when I had a radio show. After all, she does have connections with broadcasting in Hong Kong. She also told me that I was quite good with people, which is something I thought about today as I was waiting for my burrito from a food cart downtown. I think I am indeed quite good with people, but only if I have nothing on the line, such as making random small talk with a member of the food service industry. However, once something matters (like if I'm talking to a cute girl), I get all nervous.
Perhaps I've always underestimated myself and all of my abilities. I have a very vague plan in my head for my future, which I think is quite exciting, but I'm really trying to keep it to myself for now. I know if I reveal it now, people will think I'm crazy and stupid, but if there's anything I've realised over this past week, it is that some of the people who think they know me, don't really know me. That's no fault of their own, of course, but maybe I've just overestimated my closeness to those I live with.
I wish my cold medicine would kick in sooner so I could write more and more and perhaps somehow pound out something of note. I fell asleep in bed after work and woke up in a position in which I was on my back and my arms were above my head, whilst my wrists touched so that my hands formed an X pattern. I felt like it was some sort of faux religious symbol, but it was really the Suphedrine. I woke up this morning and my dream was about how Malia left me to date someone named Colin Fossum, who apparently does not exist. I thought that maybe Mr. Fossum was a player on the Arizona Diamondbacks, since I was playing MVP Baseball 2005 before I fell asleep, but I guess not.
"I wrote a poem on a dog biscuit
And your dog refused to look at it
So I got drunk and looked at the Empire State Building
It was no bigger than a nickel
And if it don't improve
Then I have to move
I never thought that I would end up here
Maybe I should just change my style
But I feel alright when you smile
I stayed at home on the Fourth of July
I pulled the shades so I didn't have to see the sky
I decided to have a bed-in
But I forgot to invite anybody
When I fell asleep, the neighbours had a peep
I never thought that I would end up here
Maybe I should just change my style
But I feel alright when you smile"
I fell asleep to Fourth of July on Sunday night after getting back from the bar and woke up in the middle of the evening with my computer and stereo still on. It was quite obvious that someone had to come into my room again and turn off my music, which made me quite embarrassed.
Since Sunday, everytime Abra or Emily (Duffie, not my Emily) has said "Malia", I feel like someone has punched me in the stomach. Today was one of those days in which I was bitter about her and I sort of hate how she hasn't written in a week, even though in my head, I understand why. There are so many appropriate songs right now, like Cry Me A River, No Action, Come On Home, Isn't It a Pity?, Red Rubber Ball, Love Me For Me and so forth. Although, right now my favourite songs are:
Lady Sovereign - Random
M.I.A. - Sunshowers
A Frames - Eva Braun
Spoon - I Turn My Camera On
楊千嬅 (Miriam Yeung) - 烈女
QB Eagles - Feather of Lead
Yo La Tengo - Madeline
Is the new Rachel Stevens single out yet? Why do I have so much earwax? How is it only a quarter past eleven? I wonder how it would be if I was involved with someone who spoke Cantonese? I mean, they'd actually understand all those Cantopop songs I secretly give to girls and would probably think it was really cheesy. Why do I only like ballads when they're in Chinese? Why do I feel like I should have a crush on Fiona Sit (薛凱琪)? Is it really only because I like the name Fiona? Why don't I have a crush on Fiona Apple, then?
I answered a survey for Hillary Rodham Clinton's office last week and under occupation, I put "Freelance (Fashion Industry)", which is technically true. The wallpaper on my mobile is of a football player that Brian drew onto the back of some boxes at work, since I kept pretending the stacked boxes were a player while throwing a football at it. He wears number twenty-five and plays for Tod's. Work humour is not funny outside of work.Current Music: Yo La Tengo, "Sugarcube" |
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May. 21st, 2005 @ 11:38 pm
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I've pretty much been spending all of my time either at work or holed up at home. In the past couple of days, I've taken that to a further extreme by holing up in my room while listening to albums I haven't listened to in ages, such as The Cure's Head on the Door or the P.U.N.K. Girl EP by Heavenly. I've been reading articles about comparative advantages outloud to myself, along with conducting a one man debate about meritocracies and whether they can work in an inherently disadvantaged world. I'm also determined to teach myself modern Canadian history for no other reason except that I quite enjoy it and find myself bored reading the same things about American history.
Inadventently, I've found myself becoming what I've wanted to become again, which is the Kevin of years ago who lived in an apartment downtown and did things alone all the time. Not that I want things to be at those extremes again, but I have felt a certain hunger to be alone again and to do things for and with myself, like I used to do. The irony of this all is that I started to feel this way about things with Malia took a turn for the worse, but I suppose this is a reaction to that situation, as I always have a feeling of changing things when relationship matters sour.
I've also wanted to get back to writing again and my writing, I mean writing something that has substance and length, which I really have been struggling to do. For some misguided reason, I feel that if I have enough length in my writing, the substance will come naturally. I want to attempt to write stories again, although my best stories were basically re-tellings of various incidents of my life, with the details changed for literary gain. Hell, I'd even be happy reviewing music right now, but instead, I'm writing with no purpose or organisation.
I actually have so much to say, but I don't know if this is the place to say those things and I certainly haven't felt confident enough in my skills to articulate those thoughts. For once, they're actually quite deep and don't involve girls, but maybe that's why I have trouble because I'm so used to writing about trite things.
Last but not least, I think Belinda Stronach is sort of attractive, which seems gross and wrong in so many ways.
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I'm sitting here while the keyboard has been illuminated by the glow from the monitor. I've got my right foot underneath my left thigh, while a can of cola sits to the right of me. I keep scratching underneath my chin and keep wondering whether or not I really won't shave until next week.
I tried to take a nap this afternoon while I was made loopy from Nyquil, but all I did was end up extending my winning streak on MVP Baseball 2005 to twenty games in a row. I took a nap this evening because I had nothing better to do and didn't feel like talking to anyone. I woke up to the sounds of the rest of the house getting ready to go out and have a good time and I felt torn. Torn because I want to go out, because I think it'd be good for me, but also I'm feeling like I need to stay home and be alone and that I'd end up being moody and quiet anyway.
I've been in such a horrible mood recently and feeling completely unmotivated to do anything. I keep wanting to write about what's wrong, but I don't want anyone to hear it and I don't feel like I want to tell anyone, which just contributes to me feeling worse since it's stuck inside me.
I'm trying to take solace in my alone time tonight and that I'm listening to CBC Radio Three. The DJ reminds me of me in a way, that's very comforting. I think I've ceased to have any confidence in myself.
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Accidentally I
Charm you and tell you
Of the boys I hate, all the girls I hate
All the words I hate, all the clothes I hate
How I'll never be anything I hate
You smile, mention something that you like
Oh, how you'd have a happy life
If you did the things you like
-- Franz Ferdinand, Dark of the Matinée
It's Tuesday night out West and I'm preparing for my first day of work in ages, but in reality, it's my first day of work in a little under a week. For some reason, I'm nervous I've forgotten everything, even though when I was drunk on pints of Stella on Saturday night, I could still recite all those things I need/have to say at work. I'm worried that I missed a day of work when I should've been there (because I'm paranoid), that I filled out my timecard incorrectly (was Thursday paid time off or not?), that I'll have to make stupid small talk with a certain well meaning co-worker. I'm a loner and especially like to be that way at work because I abhor small talk.
It's hard for me to look back on everything that's transpired during the past week or so. It was the first real holiday of my life and in a way it was a bit nerve wracking showing Eric around. I know that Eric takes pleasure in most everything that is vaguely different and challenging, but I couldn't help but be paranoid that he'd find it a waste to be here. I liked Vancouver, but it was slightly disappointing that we weren't able to find anywhere really cool. Even the fun Thursday night we had was spent in a shitty bar with overpriced drinks, but we were too pissed to notice.
His visit has been good in terms of making me think about my life in different terms. Maybe not even different terms, but maybe just appreciating what I have. I know I'll never be able to fully appreciate everything due to my seemingly manic personality. I know my life is good and that I'm living the life of a young twenty-something who usually has fun and has disposable income to a point. Like in Common People, I know that if things ever got bad enough, I could swallow my pride and call home if I really needed anything. I have no real responsibilities except for going to work and paying rent and I'm just floating through life being daft. Perhaps I shouldn't use the word daft, but carefree.
I talked to Emily (Brian's Emily, not my Emily) as we were walking to the Blazers game tonight (another bloody Blazers loss, but I'm so used to them losing that it no longer makes me sad) and I ended up feeling sort of weird about my life as I'm devoid of a plan. I can't really work my way up at work like my dad did at NCR, can I? If I end up going back to HKU, I'd probably be twenty-five when I start and I'll finish close to the age of thirty with an undergraduate's degree in fucking Economics. Do I really want to live in Hong Kong? Would I enjoy it? I know it's not an obligation and my parents certainly don't expect it, but I feel like I owe it to something/someone out there.
Five years ago, I couldn't have imagined myself in the state I'm in, with the friends I have, the job I have, the life I live, the house I live in and so-forth. In fact, I'm not sure what I thought five years ago, except that I'd have it all sussed out by now... and I don't. In five years from now, maybe I'd be married? It seems weird saying that, but I'll be twenty-eight by then, and by God, I hope I've moved up a bit.
I'm really not sure where this insecurity came from as my life is good as I mentioned before. It's good! I'm nuts to be whinging so much! I mean, I had a conversation with a cute girl who I have a crush on about the last Kylie single, I Believe in You and even though she's not very fond of it, she knew of its existence!
Speaking of crushes, I should stick to the one I have here in town, the one I finally managed to talk to, the one whose name I don't know. I'm sure she was just being nice, but maybe like that book at Powell's I glanced through said, I should trust my instincts. After all, this weekend showed me that confidence really does matter. I don't know why I keep worrying about other people yelling me about crushes I have, but I do worry. The voice in my head is telling to not even think about it, but why not? Why not?
There's so much I'd to say, but shouldn't, so I won't. I know that for whatever reason, I almost cried while singing Twins' 精選 on karaoke this afternoon. I know I have trouble shutting my face and that eventually whatever I say will get back to whomever I'm saying it about, but maybe that's why I say it? Why am I worried after I played everything so well on Saturday night? Oh, right, I'm supposed to shut up. It's just that those lyrics at the top of this post remind me of myself, even though I'm skewing the meaning.
Here's a list of some seemingly random things:
1) Thinking of doing this tour some time in the month of March. I've been wanting to do it for ages, of course.
2) Speaking of things related to the first thing on this list, take that, Motherfuckers!
3) Also, my plan is to get my United Airlines tattoo by July. Seriously. Although, I am worried it'll hurt. Stupid low tolerance of pain!
4) I'm either really out of touch or this is a complete surprise for everyone, but that bastard Tung Chee-Hwa is stepping down! I really, really wish I knew how to type out the Dizzee Rascal laugh, because that's how I'm feeling right now.
5) Here is a list of some of my favourite songs of recent times:
-- Sister Saviour by The Rapture
-- Jacqueline by Franz Ferdinand
-- 全身暑假 by 容祖兒 (Joey Yung)
-- Angel in the Snow by Marine Research
-- Filthy/Gorgeous by Scissor Sisters
-- You Won't Forget About Me by Danni Minogue v. Flower Power
-- La La by Ashlee Simpson
-- I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself by Dusty Springfield
-- I Gonna Getcha Good! by Shania Twain
6) Eric's writing about his trip out here was really touching. I'm flattered beyond belief and really glad he had a good time out here. His pictures from his trip are available here. Click on the rest of the ones titled "Holiday" for more and more pictures from our trip up to Canada and our Saturday night.
7) Last but not least, the wheels are in motion for a trip home (Ohio home, not Hong Kong home) during the summer to pick up my car. I'll pick it up from Ohio, drive to Chicago to pick up Brian and we'll take it back to Oregon, perhaps with a stop in St. Louis to watch the Cardinals. This will immensely improve my commute and therefore, my life.Current Music: Summer Hymns, "Trolling on the Lake" |
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I woke at three thirty in the morning to the sound of something crashing down from my ceiling. I was confused for a moment, but soon figured out that the lanterns hung above my television finally stopped resisting gravity and found their way to the carpeting. I grumbled in my sleep and thought about how annoying it would be to have to come home from work and reinstall the useless hook, went to the kitchen and grabbed some water (where's my hamburger mug?) and went back to bed again.
Here I am at home, riding a wave of nostalgia for all those songs I loved but have foresaken in order to devour as much pop music as possible. I decided to fuck putting up the lanterns again and instead I'm going for a look that suggests that no one has ever cleaned this room, a look in which my floor seems to have millions of wires running all over it (stereo to computer, PS2 to television, telephone to wall, AC adapter to PDA, etc.). Fuck a lampshade or anything, I currently have a light bulb sitting on top of a funny picture of Gisele that I clipped from the South China Morning Post years ago.
Right now, This is a Low seems to be the most appropriate song in the world, even though my life has nothing to do with British shipping channels. The feel and the nostalgia that this song gives is incredible and added to it, the fact that I received a Christmas gift from my father for the first time in years, along with the Chinese greeting card he included in it.
I find myself daydreaming about a relationship in which we share dark spaces and debate about everything under the sun. Why can't sport be discussed alongside art? Why can't philsophy and trashy television share the same conversation? Why can't I seriously explain why Sound of the Underground is one of the best singles in the past five years while extolling the virtues of the first Stone Roses album? I want to be challenged and to think about things, instead of becoming this lazy slob in terms of my intellect these past couple of years. I find myself in my cubicle, staring at pictures of my friends and I sit there thinking that there's got to be something beyond that for me. I don't know if I am destined to become something greater or if those ultimate dreams of mine, in which I just want to find myself married and in a successful relationship are all I can ever strive for. I have no drive, no ambition and I don't even know what "more" means.
I like these past couple of days of myself, in which I seem to be stumbling towards madness, in which what I write is no longer centred on the foolishness of boy-and-girl-hold-hands. Perhaps not foolishness, but maybe it's a different boy-and-girl-hold-hands that I'm striving for, a different one that seems possible and a self in which I ramble on and on and I haven't felt this way in ages. I smirk to myself and seem smug, even though I know that in me, I'm dying a second death, but without this death, I can never move forward and transcend this stupidity I've been mired in for months.
I wonder how I will look back on these days, those cold nights walking to the bus stop to get home, contrasted with the flourescence of work and the endless cheerful greetings. Living with three people I'm not related to and the regression in terms of my musical tastes. This sort of purgatory, in which I'm trying to figure out what the fuck I'm doing while enduring this lonely stretch (which feels fine right now, but just hits at sudden times and with crippling effect). Maybe I need to straighten up and fly right or maybe I'll never know what type of life is meant or even hinted for me.
Time to do the dishes, have a drink and maybe de-camp to Dot's. Crikey, I'm starving.Current Music: Stone Roses, "Waterfall" |
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The rain pouring off one corner of our blue house as I held my Lancome umbrella in my right arm. I co-ordinated to look blue-orange, but no one would notice, as I was buttoned up with (another) football scarf around my neck. The rain didn't pour and in fact, it didn't even form heavy drops as they fell of tree branches. I felt fooled, carrying around my umbrella when a semi-Oregonian like myself should know better.
It blew in my face though and the wind made everything cold, along with the lack of sunlight. I walked bundled up, accidently scaring a woman at the post office and managing to drop copious amounts of money on more stuff I didn't need, yet could afford.
The whole day I thought about how sad and bitter I must look. I say everything with a hushed tone, but maybe that's because I'm saving my fake happiness for when I report to work at ten-thirty in the morning. I'm polite and I make an effort to look nice, but now it seems like any lead has gone cold and those random moments in the past when I'd get random looks from random strangers are gone too. Perhaps everyone is too busy finishing Christmas shopping, huddling up with loved ones or being stressed out in general to notice anyone else but themselves.
I keep waking up in an unglamourous drug haze that's due to cold medicine and not cocaine or heroin, although I imagine that doing those drugs would probably yield me some sort of "love" that I feel is missing from my life. I never want to lower myself to that level (and not that I was seriously considering a drug habit in lieu of a relationship or a drug habit in order to net me a relationship) or lower myself to any level. Last year was the year of restraint and even this year has in someways been a year of restraint. It's funny that I talk about not lowering myself to anything, when I've spent the past six months doing worse than that, by giving away the farm.
I have to confess that the onset of Christmas scares me and threatens to turn me even more bitter. On one hand, I don't care, but on the other, I know that with me being who I am, I will be able to easily use that day as an excuse to indulge in self-destructive behaviour. I hope to God that when the weekend rolls around, I'll have snapped out of the funk, but I know that this will take some time, unfortunately.
I don't do madness (as in being mad, not insanity) very well and everytime I am unhappy with someone, I feel uncomfortable, as if I'm some sort of misogynist. I abhor directing my anger at anyone else and in general try to keep it inside me and suffer in my own silence and bear my own crosses.
The end of this year finds me ending it on a low note, unless New Year's Eve has me indulging in some self-destructive behaviour of the fun kind, but even then it'd be like papering over the cracks in the wall. It'll look, or in this case, feel nice for a bit, but when it comes down to it, the fundamental problem will not have been fixed and will only get worse with time.
Sleep, clam chowder out of a can, the newest issue of The Economist or this book? I can't decide, of course and your opinion doesn't matter anyway as the computer goes off now.
God, I feel crazy.Current Music: Tarkovsky's "Solaris" is playing in the PS2 |
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How much Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own particular sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.
So what was the point of possessing memory? It didn't help anything. In the end it was all hopeless. Look at Mummy and Daddy, and the General Store; or Dina Aunty's life; or the hostel and Avinash; and now poor Ishvar and Om. No amount of remembering happy days, no amount of yearning or nostalgia could change a thing about the misery and suffering—love and concern and caring and sharing come to nothing, nothing.
Maneck began to weep, his chest heaving as he laboured to keep silent. Everything ended badly. And memory only made it worse, tormenting and taunting. Unless. Unless you lost your mind. Or committed suicide. The slate wiped clean. No more remembering, no more suffering.
-- Rohinton Mistry, "A Fine Balance", pg. 330Current Music: Miriam Yeung (楊千嬅), "小城大事" |
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