31 :: 366

it had been a long day. I began my new job as an intern at time out hong kong. it is going to keep me busy for the next few weeks and I am hoping to expand; take my writing some place else. the newsletter editorial that is being prepared for this week is underway and there is another half a dozen things on the list I have to focus on. but it is okay with me. the atmosphere of the office is just as you would expect for a magazine. messy desks, endless stacks of previous issues, boxes of the latest one, film posters and photographs of celebrities. hong kong art festival. boxes, boxes, boxes. envelopes and other paper paraphernalia. and then there’s the people. some of them I’ve met throughout the years of hanging out on the streets of hong kong. the anxious ones go out for a cigarette every half an hour and the rest just stocks up on the caffeine supply. there’s always a deadline ahead and I like the pressure of it.

then the globe. it has been a while since my father and I just sat together for a drink. talking about everything and nothing. I already mentioned the importance of this, coincidentally about the same time last year. hazelnut boy joined us half way through and then he left. it was like a déjà vu. again. the same corner, the same facial expressions. the same bullshit. me quitting, giving up. but I knew from his eyes that he doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe me. and then two hours on the phone, sitting down on the sidewalk, trying to sort things out. the thin line between love and not wanting to be alone. it is interesting though that his empty words still have an effect on me.

30 :: pretending to be charles bukowski

the globe –
ideas floating around the street lights; flickering
no reason to believe anything
because people come and go
sometimes they would return
to the nothingness
of empty white bedsheets
of empty nights
of empty souls
barefoot and writing in a bar
but I wouldn’t know
I am long gone
hidden in the streets of the real chinatown

29 :: a boost of inspiration


quiet sunday. home made cream pumpkin soup with parmesan for breakfast. searching and collecting inspiration throughout the afternoon. beautiful DIY projects; I am thinking of starting a couple of mine. finding consolation in earthy tones. looking at photographs of paris; one, two, three. and then the double exposure. lots of yellow and green. I am missing colors despite it being only a few days after chinese new year. colors palettes like these make me feel warmer.

in fact, I am doing whatever I can to keep warm.

her multiple choices

early awakening; before sunrise. the apartment felt warm enough to walk barefoot. a quick cup of coffee before catching a taxi to kowloon city. ninety multiple questions in sixty minutes just for fun. the process of elimination. I passed by his house on the way back home. the sun was out and the sky was blue; my mood lifted up immediately. I spent the rest of the morning watching barack obama’s state of the union speech, twenty minutes into to it I couldn’t tell whether I was feeling apathetic or furious at the fact that there’s even a possibility of him not winning the second term. how can he not win? but. I don’t want to talk about politics.

instant pho noodles for lunch, a couple of episodes of new york on the overheated sofa. after six days spent inside, I decided to leave the house. carefully choosing the groceries, thinking of nothing. I picked up my camera again after entire seventeen days of not touching it. the shutter felt stiff; I felt as if my sense for composition has abandoned me. hopefully I will be able to see colors again. the lifeless weather of the past three weeks caused me to forget how to capture things around me.

early evening with the filmmaker in one of the hidden streets of sheung wan reminded me of some of the things I’ve left behind. unwillingly, unknowingly. homei cafe, iced coffee, wandering neighborhood cats, the flickering of streets lamps. we saw a beautiful loft with a terrace. the place seemed entirely out of place and I felt envy looking at the couple sipping from their wine glasses, separated but unified with the surroundings. I wish I could haven taken a photograph of that brief moment. hollywood road, shut antique shops, deserted dark streets. club seventy one after a long time. hong kong problems taken to another level. his little notebook and soft-tipped pencil. what was supposed to be obtuse became pseudo-intellectual with a hint of over-analysis. but that’s how we are.

I’ve missed afternoons like this.

28 :: 366

twenty seven names for tears

hong kong is completely white. white, white, white, white. we cannot see anything from our window. only eternal whiteness, which has been lingering over the city for the past week and a half, not willing to subside. each january and weeks beyond it are the same. I am looking at pictures of croatia. pictures of warmth, sea, sun, summer, glasses of wine, ice cream and the happiness of walking barefoot all day long. I cannot even taste it. september disappeared on a far away land of unknown. I am homesick for a home that I left with a heavy heart and promised never to return. but I cannot keep that promise. I wouldn’t and I couldn’t. everything seems overly complex for no reason.

another cup of coffee with milk, a forty minute phone conversation with a friend of mine, an hour nap in the afternoon. this time that I spend at home allows me to focus on reading; quiet moments of solitude, just lost in the other world. my phone keeps ringing and ringing. but I just leave it there. I need to give myself a little break. reevaluation and priorities and enough sleep. things like that.

27 :: 366