lost in progress

Charlotte: I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be, you know. I tried being a writer, but I hate what I write.
Bob: You’ll figure that out. I’m not worried about you. Keep writing.
Charlotte: But I’m so mean.
Bob: Mean’s okay.

– sofia coppola’s lost in translation, 2003.

so I’m staying home tonight. with a cup of chai tea and the social network soundtrack. trying to develop my own film into something substantial. tonight I’m being mean. the characters hate each other but cannot go through life without one another. a mix of cultures and opinions. it wasn’t supposed to be political but I’m thinking that’s how it’s going to end. drug addictions and one night stands. that kind of thing. there’s an element of everything I have ever been exposed to, I’m trying to put it all down. but in a way, writing this film is more about understanding myself and finishing a piece of work, rather than creating something awesome. at the end, it might be. but right now, I’m not so concerned about it. I’m just writing. writing, writing, writing. I’m expecting it to be five in the morning the next time I look at the time.

he had me at hello

finally something new. my favorite twins from holland have stopped by in hong kong for the weekend on their way home to melbourne. the two of them, almost identical, and another guy. dutch, no name. there was a click when we first saw each other. we went for a coffee, dinner, walks around soho, a couple of drinks at a bar and then almost the whole night on the roof of the IFC. I’ve missed meeting new people. it was spontaneous, free and completely unforced. lots of chemistry and laughing. swearing in italian and yelling in cantonese, immitating the old ladies. we flirted in french, talked about their long fingers. he understood. analogy of shoes and what they reveal about a person. you’re so hardcore and different. you want me to start crying? it’s been such a long time since I’ve met somebody so intelligent and with a similar sense of humor. we just fit, from the first moment. from the first joke. baby steps. I cannot stop thinking about the way my fingers felt on his back.

I wish you could see the potential, the potential of you and me. but I think last night it was obvious to everyone.

480

days are passing by in a strange way right now. slowly but somehow fast at the same time.

each day I try to create a focus, something to hang onto during the day because it’s only at night that I feel most comfortable. I love hong kong at night. the night life, the buzzing of the city, people coming out, revealing more about themselves than they usually would. in a way there’s a certain amount of mystery attached to the nights that I spend around the city. mystery but also stereotype.

I’m drifting away from the old places, from familiar faces and mechanical picking up of endless glasses of gin tonics.

but there’s still a few things that I’ll always enjoy. regular grande cappuccinos, garlic noodles for six dollars from 711, polaroids and contagious laugher that lasts for hours. we have always been good at it. never ending inside jokes that I will never forget.

last night we went to see the hong kong production of Rent, in which a few of my closest friends performed. it was beyond amazing.

I’m enjoying myself right now. living the life to the fullest. I’d almost forgotten what freedom feels like. it’s deliberating. life is not about finding out who you are, but creating yourself, becoming the person you want to be. the person you can be.