as we go shopping merrily

The most lovely thing about HK is that there are so many blatant flaws in the society that flat-out insults the intelligence of the conscious human. So many targets to wave a middle finger at. I love it. Bring it. Fuck you. Bring it. Fuck you. I love it. And I love the people here too. So many of us, conscious, who know what we are doing, if we can rise and stand up and speak back, tactfully, as not to get arrested.

The more pressure, oppression, coming from different directions; the more exciting, vibrant, kaleidoscopic are the arts and literature.

Are you wearing your clothes, or are your clothes wearing you?

mega beast

The insides of a gigantic beast. We have been swallowed without realizing it, and now we are passing through its digestive system which is extensive, like a building with escalators that never end. We cannot see the beast because we are inside it. We see no teeth marks on our bodies, no signs of any parts bitten off. “Our bodies are very much intact,” we say to each other, thinking we are quite normal. We were never bitten or chewed. We were simply swallowed.

love me once again

Found myself listening to Priscilla Chan’s ’89 concert version of “Love Me Once Again”. Didn’t know how much I love this piece until I found myself putting it on repeat. The Chinese lyrics are simple, nothing too poetic, but it captures a certain sentiment, reminding me of that summer of ’96, and how I used to drift on that mountain bike around the neighbourhood aimlessly, orange sunsets and all. This morning, I pressed ‘play’ on the stereo, and it occurred to me, finally, after all this time, to check who wrote it, especially since the sound is unlike a piece produced in Hong Kong. It is written by Kosaka Akiko, and earlier, I might have seen the name on the CD jacket and confused her for Kobayashi Akiko (who wrote ‘koi ni ochite”). “Love Me Once Again” has the touch of that longing and yearning cadence that only Kosaka can produce. She also wrote ‘anata’ a piece that still makes me cry each time I hear it. Some songs of Beyond and Danny Summer also has that power.

This is what I resort to, an old song, indulging in the old tune and imageries, to get myself back in the mood for writing. Poetic sentiments simmering in this purple state. Old stories and new ones converge, confirming, once again, my theory that there is no time, that everything is happening at once.