mindful mondays, forty-six

I have a feeling mondays will soon be about something else. I am not sure; but there is a feeling. days have been put on the clock. I sense the time go by more than I have ever before. I wonder what other people wonder about. evenings in hung hom and kowloon city, nightly buses to the area I hadn’t been to before. well, not exactly. I keep seeing the bird more often now and prince edward boy’s best friend is in town. why do I have to be so fucking cryptic? they are all here and it makes me happy. it’s always good to see them; the boys.

one night we climbed up on the roof of another friend’s house. the night wasn’t cold and it was starless, as usual. the roof was dirty and felt abandoned. we found refuge within this small space; playing music on the bluetooth speakers, taking turns in changing the songs. we drank straight from the bottle; but mostly we just talked. I was the only girl amongst the four of them. they looked at me as if they felt the need to protect me. I think they missed him almost as much as I did, but I would find that hard to believe. I appreciated the simple gesture of not inviting him as well. they could have, but they didn’t. it felt wrong, but it also felt normal for me; to be hanging out his friends without him. I am pretty sure they detailed the stories later on, when I wasn’t there. the worst part is, I know he feels the same. I hate myself for creating the distance. I didn’t want it to be like this.

to keep my mind off the shit,  I spend all my time at work. mid-february, again. the dreary weather is back and it drags on. hong kong is almost as cold as london, which I don’t think makes any sense. I am repeating myself. filmmaker was there, in fact. in londontown. it made me feel strange, almost as if I was missing out on something. he came back with literature as always, and I am waiting for my turn. it’s a bit discouraging that none of my books would interest him. all those african works; mandela’s book, the congolese history and swahili folk tales. I’ve always had a special relationship with history; I always thought that I am the only one enjoying myself.

monday, tuesday, thursday, wednesday! I keep thinking of the scene in the godfather; when apollonia blows up in the car and I wonder whether that will happen to me as well. figuratively speaking that is. I have decided to stand for that I believe once in my life, but to what end? I am reading the books of revolutionaries, because I am trying comprehend how they were able to stand it. all of it – the misunderstandings, the loneliness, the pathos of it all. I wish to become immortal and then die. sort of like the phoenix I used to be so obsessed about a few years ago, just a different form.

February 10, 2014