prose and the person himself

The uses of the mind. The truth is it's awkward to be typing here in the car but I want to capture a moment in which here I am nearing the end of the Murakami novel and I feel as though the life coming to an end is mine, and I can see the subtle sensitivity behind what it feels like to die away. If I were dying, what would I do? Where would I go and who would I like to see? Is it not about time that I venture out and get some feedback on the character that I am? I have much to learn. I will not be dwindled by the fact that I'm twenty-seven. But I like where I am going and I want to see things a little more clearly, a little more clearly. Then I will write something with a harder edge. Nothing wrong with the kind of work I'm working on now. The beginning of the artist is the beginning of the artist. How funny though, I had wanted to write an artistic piece to blog, then coming here I feel crunched up and I end up saying I'm all crunched up and I abandon the artistic part, then I turn back to my writing, and thinking and writing about my writing. This too will change. The key is to strengthen, and define myself more fully. I still feel like half-baked bread.

first draft 070623

Now, as I read the passage above (which I wrote yesterday). There are sentences I want to scratch out. They show me to be unsure. Too often in my prose I sound unsure of myself. But it isn’t like by editing the words that my character would change. To improve one’s character flaw takes longer than editing a prose piece. And so I resolve by leaving those words in.

at harbourfront

What pain I put myself through, even as the water fountain is swishing, and the late summer afternoon is bringing moderate temperature, and the sky is laying down an even distribution of sunshines and shades upon this urban park, in order to condemn myself for not having written, and by so doing confine myself to reading a book about the art of using words and stringing long sentences, ending with a heavy cloud above my head, and still unsure whether the past hours have been punitive or pleasurable. I have sat for too long. The sun and the air and the sounds of water and the awaiting of friends tonight do make for an excellent time to take a stroll, and while at it, I let my thoughts stretch a bit, and perhaps, after seeing a series of tiny shops, I shall amidst this contemplation of pain-or-pleasure come up with the positive, or better yet, say to myself it is but an experience, and only that, and that is all.

first draft 070622

sun roof sky light

Was sitting in my car, parked in the shaded area of an open lot, windows and sunroof wide open, approaching 7pm, skies about to change colour, the first day of summer. Was reading Murakami’s Hardboiled Wonderland. Got to the part where they talked about immortality. At seven, mom called me to pick her up, so I drove there. It was only a ten minute drive. Given the fresh breeze and the moody highness triggered by the summer’s sunset, I turned up the music. SPEED was on my stereo. Blasted it. Track 5. ‘Alive’. Was driving south on Birchmount approaching Sheppard when a natural thought came to me: what a time is now. And just as quickly did it also occur to me that I was on my way to pick up mom at the parking lot of the Highland Funeral Home where she had just finished attending the funeral of a friend’s daughter who was my age. She went to U of T. She knew she had cancer but they decided to get married last year anyways. There she was, inside that house, sleeping, as I pulled into the lot. Immediately, I turned off the music. Accused myself.

one of those

A clear day with clouds that puff about like you can touch them. Almost got killed on the way home. A black pick-up truck comes straight up and crashes against the cement ahead of us. Would have killed us had we got there a few seconds ahead. Came home, blasted my stereo to My Little Lover, changed into my shorts and went for a walk. On my way to the park I saw three black pick-up trucks pass by me. When I got to the soccer field, there were kids, 13-14 year olds, having a house league soccer game. A kid on the blue team shot a PK over the bar. A kid from the yellow team lost his lens. Hold on, ref. Stop the game! Then they found it. Game continued. I walked up a little hill and discovered there was a much better view from the little hilltop where I would have had an elevated view of the match from the corner and I decided that next time I would sit there and watch the whole thing because by now I had discovered the ice-cream truck stationed at the far end of the park, so I went there and bought me a medium twist ($2) after lining up behind a bunch of kids in neon orange house league jerseys (what nice jerseys they have nowadays). As the truck drove away, a Chinese man started chased after it. A black guy on a bike called to him, Ice-cream? Yo, use my bike, and he chased after the truck on his BMX… Anything for an icecream. On my way home it was a bit chilly but I finished my cone. I was walking slowly so a girl passed me on the sidewalk. She was wearing a jean jacket that said ‘Mickey Mouse Smile Friendly’ at the back. A young Chinese couple came toward me. The girl clinging to the guy’s arm and his hands were in his pockets. A girlfriend. I’d get me one of those some day. That was the thought, the moment just after they passed me. And Kafka absent-mindedly gazing through his window would have said: ‘And his face was utterly bright.’

written 070620

wooden stands

Artist's stands are set up around these long tables. From where I sit at one of these tables, all I see are the blank backs of these portrait-size cardboards resting on these wooden stands. I don't know what is being displayed. Their fronts are turned away from me. Their messages aimed at the passers-by. Posters, perhaps, advertising an event happening in this shopping arcade. No one seems to be looking at them, and it never concretely occurred to me important messages are being communicated here until I started looking around and found the backs of these wooden stands erected around me, and I decided to record them.

old dreams new haunts

The MTV of 'My Graduation' has a very cool scene in which the girls are standing and facing each other around the four mikes that branch out from the middle of the circle like a fountain. The girls are wearing more grown-up attires and as they sing the background of light green and pink leaves start spinning behind them.

‘anata to sugoshita seishun kagayaki wa zutto iroasenai…’

The days of traveling before the internet and all. When the local was fresh. When a trip away from home really meant something extrordinary. When a discovery of an old CD in a corner shop was cherished like a chance encounter. Now you just buy it on ebay. Even the eighties now is so accessible. Videos are coming out and you can buy them anywhere. It's a good thing in the sense that it does beat away my nostalgia.

About last night's brief revisit of things Japanese, of SPEED and SMAP and all that high. It does make me want to go there again though I'm not sure, I'm actually not really sure at all how much I would get out of it. All I know is that I want to gain a wider view of the world. And how much wider of a view would I attain if I were to visit a place I have already been?

I want to see China. Just to experience it. I can speak Mandarin. Why not? I need to change my view a bit about Chinese people. So yes, I do aim for China. Read more about it.

Also, you might want to try to embrace simplified Chinese characters. I know this concept is a bit strange, and you're a little Sino-phobic. But really, it's not their fault that they have to read simplified Chinese. Learn to embrace it. It is because of the simplified characters that you ought to go there. There is a blessing in being Chinese, you know that?

dollars and free time

What to do with a thousand dollars and youth and a one-week holiday? Go to Quebec? Take writing courses? Psychology courses? Buy a stack of CDs I've been wanting to buy? Do nothing, save it, and watch it disappear into library fines? It's a curious thing. The times when I hold on to a decision and moments before making the decision, I decide on the opposite route. The result: a thousand dollars and a one-week holiday that needs to be filled! Youth, has always been with me. That, is nothing new.