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June 15 Most valuable garbage I have ever run into
This must be the most valuable garbage I have ever run into so far. It was a nice Tuesday afternoon. I was passing by 4th ave and 10 street. Out on the street, I saw this huge TV. I took awhile looking at it. It's made by Samsung. Must of be 31 inches at least. It looks like new. I am not sure if it's still working, but look at that picture and tell me this shit is trashed? Nowadays TV don't just go down like that. They broke if the screen is broken or something looks terribly wrong. This baby here, I bet 80% possibility it's still working fine. I stayed around for 5 minutes to think if I should drag it home. But then I have a small studio. There's no extra space for this gigantic thing. Well, that's a shame. I finally left.
May 10 an email to Robhey rob,
you guys did a great job on the house. it looks like a big makeover. the latter picture is definitely more homey than the first one. and it also carried out the local tradition very well. i went out for a movie tonight. it's actually more than a movie. it's a silent movie with live orchestra, live foley and castrato. a canadian director Guy Maddin's latest work. it's quite a night out. the show was staged at the village east cinemas. well, it's just next door of my building. i am sure you remember that theatre. it used to have lots of famous bands playing there like 'the doors', 'the .. doors', and ...'the doors'. ok, i only heard about this band playing there. but i think maybe you would know more than i do. a great thing is they still keep the building as it was. the ceiling, the chandelier, the staircase and the stage, etc. i never really like it as a movie theatre. but as a stage for silent movie was just great. there were 2 stages, one for orchestra and the other for sound effects. it was very interesting to see how they make sound effect right in front of the screen. and also there's a narrator citing poem or whatever it was for the story effect. do you know the sound of a fire burning consists of the shacking of a plastic sheet and the poping of plastic bubble wraps? i was glad i went to see it. to think of it, it's my first time ever to see movie this way. i've been to silent movie with live orchestra. but with live foley and narrator, this is my first time. and i liked the experience. this reminds me of 'rocky horror picture show'. you know the village east cinema's tradition? they play rocky horror picture show every year on Halloween. and each year i would see people dressing up as characters they like and line up on a line in front of the theatre. i was never into dressing up as anything so i actually never get to go into that theatre too see it with the Halloween crowd. that would be a fun thing to do. spring is here. i have allergy all the time. this year, it is not too severe for me, yet. but i have to swallow a claritin every morning all the same. i think about drinking a mojito around 5 in the evening and if i don't go out i make myself a salty dog at home. hope you are enjoying your spring too. hugs, your friend. March 12 What time is it there?
It's almost 3 o'clock in the morning and I was not sleepy yet.
I thought I should take out my contacts and try to get to bed.
I went to the bathroom and the clock on the wall told me it's only 2am.
I couldn't believe it and went back to my computer and checked again. It still says 3am.
It was like going back and forth through a worm hole. Bathroom, computer, 2am, 3am, computer, bathroom, 3am, 2am...
I felt like becoming schizophrenic.
Finally I had to make myself do it --- turn the clock forward.
Damn, I hate that daylight saving shit. Why can't all the clock just update itself like my computer did?
ps. Look down there at the time stamp, windows live spaces' server hasn't changed it's time yet. It's 3am now!
 December 11 There’s something wrong with you
I can’t believe this city. On a Saturday night, there’s no metro running after 12am. Is it 21st century yet? What are people supposed to do? Knitting at home? Ten years ago when I lived here, they were talking about running metro 24 hours. I guess they already had too much money to make with tourists filled the streets all year long. They don’t care what everybody do with their night life. I knew I would have to walk a lot. But I didn’t know how much exactly is a lot. I was rushing to see my friends at a bar which is a boat floating on the left bank of Seine. When I got to the metro it was 12:30am and people were being told to leave by the blasting radio. So I decided to walk. I walked from Republique to Gai de la gare. It took me an hour and a half to arrive. Including 20 minutes on the wrong track and I had to turn around. I almost walked to Place D’Italie. That would be 1/3 of Paris, the distance I walked. So finally I found out that Paris is actually not that big. You can walk to anywhere, if you have enough time. I was thinking, if Paris was built toward the goodness of humanity, then New York must have built toward the evil. That explained why Gotham always looked dark and devilish. Paris is beautiful but like an overtly friendly old man who is too kind to ever get angry. I found that kind of personality annoying. Whileas New York is all about challenge and relentlessness. It’s scary how dysfunctional my memory is. On my way back I thought I’d pass by the building I used to live. It was late at night. The streets were quiet and empty. I took a right turn at St. Paul from rue de Rivoli to rue Malher. The second block was rue des Rosiers. The Jewish schools were still there. I used to have to pass by lots of students smoking out on the tiny sidewalk. The brand clothing stores were more than there used to be. And Issey Miyake had a new store here. I had no idea why I felt kind of nervous. It seemed like no time had passed. There’s no one in sight. The street lamps were gently lighting each corner with brownish aura. I stood across the street suddenly couldn’t remember it was No 8 or No10 of rue des Rosiers I used to live in. I stood still in front of the building trying to recall any sign that would remind me of anything specific. But the Haagen-Dasz store straight across from my door was not there any more. So I simply just let go. The streets were definitely cleaner. It used to be dirty and a bit smelly. With Jewish grocery stores and butchers on either side of the streets. I turned at the nearest corner trying to get out of there asap and scared a bunch of peigons. They flapped their wings ever loudly and flied away. The flapping sound was so loud it scared the shit out of me. *** Most French men have smaller build, compare to Americans. Skinhead is in fashion. I saw lots of shaved heads. With the disadvantage of shorter build, shaved head is the most effective way to look butch, I figured. The anxiety of gaining masculinity is newly found here, which is not surprising under the power of American culture. Often they stated ‘masculine and virile’. What a vocabulary. I mean, if you use the word ‘virile’, then you are probably out of the line of masculinity. *** Olivier has a nice L.P. collection. Which he played on a plastic player you could buy at a place like urban outfitter. The sound quality was not that great nevertheless it worked fine. We were all sitting at the kitchen table at his place in Montmartre. Me typing away on my laptop, he was cooking and Teona cleaning. The sky was gray and drizzling from time to time. He put on Ah-ha’s ‘Hunting high and low’. And then Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ ‘I put a spell on you’. I recalled hearing it in one of Jim Jarmusch’s movie. But which one I can not remember. While Jay Hawkins was singing scratchyly ‘There’s something wrong with you’, Olivier announced, ‘Dinner is ready. À table. ’ December 10 Que reste-t-il de nos amours
It seems so unfair. In summer, Paris has daylight until 10:30. New york can stretch it most to 9:30. In winter, it’s now December, new york say goodbye to sunlight at 4:30. And Paris is still having her magic hour at 5:00. I can’t think why. I thought New York is in higher altitude than Paris. But for all I am concerned, I could love Paris a bit more just for these extra one hour daylight. Yes I am in Paris. Sitting acorss a tiny street, rue des Francs Bourgeois, from Archives Nationales outside of a coffee shop. I had too much caffeine intake. I am more of a tea person. Caffeine burns my nerves. My hands would shake like a seasoned alcoholic. It’s almost impossible in Paris not to drink coffee. And then it makes me think of cigarattes. I don’t smoke either. I have been drinking one cup of coffee per day. It’s nothing for most people but that keeps me awake and can only get minimal sleep. The situation of the room I stay in didn’t help either. I stay at a friend’s friend’s flat. I shouldn’t complaint cause it’s free and it’s in central Paris near Republique. But the guy probably hasn’t lived in that place for awhile. It’s dampy and dark. The sheet is yellowish, the comforter and the pillows are dampy. There’s nothing but a futon on the floor and a short table which you have to sit on the floor to be able to get to it. There’s no heating system. Only a fan blowing out warm air in an unsteady state. I felt like I had fallen back to my college life perhaps some 15 years ago. While I was out in a coffee shop in Montmartre with my friend Teona, she ordered a hot chocolate. I thought that was a great idea, decided I should order that as well thereafter. But then just now after I sit down and checked out the menu, I saw French Coffee. Which is cognac with coffee. I couldn’t resist it. So there I downed another full glass of caffeine. When the order arrived, it was filled in a wine glass topped with whipped cream and 2 decorative coffee beans. It looks like a screaming festive sundae. I was trying to pretend all masculine and virile. But the effort was instantly failed by that thing sitting on my table. And it cost me eight euros. As the comedian Catherine Tate would say, ‘dirty, robbing bastards.’ June 25 Once upon a time in DUMBOI went to the Brooklyn Bridge park last Sunday.
Since last year I saw a picture on the cover of "L" magazine, I've been wanted to go there.
"L" magazine is a free weekly publication where you can find out every event currently going on in new york city. Especially during summer time, there're usually lots of things you can do. It's the worst thing to live in a great city like this and don't know how to enjoy it.
I would pick up a "L" once in a while to read during a dinner. Last year in March or May, I don't remember, I saw a picture of a nice green park with Manhattan bridge in the background on the cover. It looked so nice that I wanted to actually go there and check it out. I asked around but none of my friends were sure where it is.
A friend of mine, Toto, looked at the picture and told me it might be in Queens. Somewhere around Astoria. And he happily offered me a one day tour. Because that's his neighbourhood. He drove me around in Astoria. We visited the Astoria park, Socrate sculpture park, Gantry plaza state park, Long Island City, Noguchi museum and museum of Moving Image. Apparently he mistook Manhattan bridge as Queens borough bridge. There are just too many bridges around manhattan that not everyone can remember which is which. So we didn't find the park on the picture. However, we had a wonderful day hanging out.
I had to post online to ask if anyone knew about it. I got replies very quickly. People were very nice to point out where it is and even how to get there for me. But I didn't make it until last Sunday. One year slid by without a sound of a pin drops on the floor.
It was a very sunny day. The sun was up early and there was not a cloud in the sky. The temperature got up to 83 degree around noon. I took a shower, put on my American Eagle blue cargo shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt, sunglasses, flip-flop and packed up my knapsack. It was a nice day for a picnic.
On my way to the F train, I stopped at a Duane Reade to pick up some sunblock lotion. Then one more stop at a Japanese bakery for a spicy chicken sandwich.
The subway station at 2nd avenue and Houston was almost empty. I got on the train. It made 2 more stops in manhattan before went down under the river and crossed to Brooklyn. It took about 6 minutes, I got off at York street station.
The exit is right under the Manhattan Bridge. This neighbourhood is called DUMBO, Down Under Mahattan Bridge Overpass. I was here once long time ago. It was in the first semester in my first year graduate school that I came to this part of the city without knowing anything about it. My impression of the neighbourhood at the time was one word, 'scary'. There was nothing there. Deserted factories, waste lands were all you can see. During these eight years, everything has changed. The New York Times called DUMBO, 'the new east village'. I walked around a little bit and the memories came back to me vividly. The reason I was so impressed with this area was actaully this one street where you can look down the street with Manhattan bridge sandwiched right in the middle of the view. It was also a great scene in one of my favorate movies, 'once upon a time in America'. You just can't miss it and you won't be able to resist taking pictures.
It's nice that this area is not a hot spot for sight seeing. So there were not many people around. I got to the park. It's just right on the bank of the east river between Manhattan and Brooklyn bridge. Most people here are locals. I lied down on the lawn, took off my T-shirt and read the book I brought. It's a detective story written by Lawrence Block. A 25-y-o hooker was slashed to death in west village by a razor. The view was breath taking and the sky was blue and there were 2 air crafts writing some advertisement with smoke.
Summer is here in New York.
June 04 Almost a love letterHave I ever written a love letter?
I woke up Sunday morning in a gray day. Outside the window everything seemed a little fuzzy.
I went to the bathroom, peed, washed my face. That's my daily routine. I washed face to make sure I am truly awake. Suddenly a melody started to play in my head. It's like a radio playing at the other end of 50 meter running course. I couldn't tell what it was.
I dried my face and went into the kitchen to prepare my breakfast. There're some hams in the fridge and a couple of eggs. So I took out the butter, sliced it, put a pan on the stove and cracked four eggs in the pan, started to stir them. Just when I was stirring the eggs, the melody came to me again. This time it was much clearer. It was playing in my head, but I almost felt like I was sining it.
"Wham!". I blurted out.
Pre-George Michael era. Although I knew it was the beginning of the 80s, I am no expert on chronology. A quick google told me it was 1984. The year the duo came back together after a short breakup and George Michael's widely successful solo 'Careless whisper'. The year George Orwell's ominous 'near-future' became today. The year Reagan ordered U.S. Marines withdrawn from Beirut international peacekeeping force. The year I was listening to American pop music non stop and writing tons and tons of letters while preparing the entrance exam for the high school.
I strived to get up every morning at 6 o'clock. Packed up those boring yet never seemed to be able to be finished textbooks. Ate a sunnyside up egg and half bowl of congee then off to school riding my blue Giant bike. Some times I carried lunch box but most times I didn't. I disliked lunch box. Everybody's lunch box was collected in the morning and sent to a huge steaming room to reheat for lunch time. I didn't like the mixture smell of steamed whatever food there were. It's like Beethoven's symphony No. 9 played by a high school orchestra.
I was a normal student. Besides detest steamed lunch box, I was not too tall, not too short, not good looking, not ugly, not prominent, not a trouble maker either. I was just a perfectly normal 14 yo boy. I was always in the first middle part of the class. Some times I'd had bad luck in an exam and then dropped to the second middle part. Once in a while, I'd get scores up to the top 10 of the class. But that's as luck would have it.
80s in Taiwan, pre-high schools still separate boys and girls. So the school would divide to two parts. But my parents sent me to a private school where they believed coed was a more nature and healthy idea. It turned out, through out all my life, I'd never been in a monosex environment except in the army.
Maybe that's why I sort of felt like I missed my adolescence. While most of the boys sitting in a class of the same sex, deepdown their bodies hormone bubbling, constantly peeping out the window looking for a girl to pass by. I sat next to 25 girls under the same roof. I didn't have to think about them, nor did I have to plan to hide somewhere after school just to see them. I could actually talk to them, read the same book and eve hit by the same rod when the result of our math exam were 'under appreciated'.
As I said, I was a normal guy. Even with the girls around, I did not make any special impression on them. I could be sick and absent for one day, then return to school the next day, no one would notice it. I didn't have friends. Perhaps it's because where I lived was at a different direction then everybody's home, so I always rode home alone and didn't hang with any of the classmates. Thinking of it was kind of strange: 50 person in the same class, saw each other everyday, knew who is who, but never really make conversations. Of three years in the same class, I only knew 2 person and where they lived.
The year of 1984 was an intense one. It's the last year for our high school entrance exam. You want to score high to get in a good school for a guaranteed future. That's for everyone else. For me, I wanted to get out of that small town. I wanted to get in to a school as far away as possible.
The textbooks seemed indefinitely boring and undecipherable. I used to listen to the radio play top 10 while studying. And I honestly couldn't remember why I started to exchange letters with this girl in my class. She was a smart girl. Looked smart, a cute round face, always in top 10 of the class. A bit chatty, friendly, but quite have her own opinion. Hermione in Harry Potter but with a thick glasses on might sound like her. If there were a list of celebrity in the school somewhere circling around, her name was definitely on it. That kind of thing, you know.
I didn't know what happened. Why she picked me or how the thing got started. She wrote me a 5 pages letter. Then I replied. The same length. Then she wrote more. And then I wrote more. Every time it was like a contest, to see who could write the letter longer. By the end we were writing 15 to 20 pages every week.
As to what we wrote about, I seriously couldn't recall anything now. The only thing that popped into my mind was those nights at home sitting in front of my desk, writing and writing, as supposed to be studying those boring textbooks, I wrote. While the radio was playing Duran Duran's "Hungry like a wolf", Yes's "Owner of a lonely heart", Pointer Sister's "Jump", Culture Club's "Karma Chemeleon", Tina Tuner "What's love got to do with it", Wham "Wake me up before you go go", I wrote. Page after page.
What I wrote to her was far from a love letter. Neither were hers.
Come to think of it, I have never written a love letter in my life.
 wham | 1984 | love letterMay 22 Where is MY george?I ran into this project 5 months ago. It's called "Where's george?" which is a project that tracks a bill.
You can start the game by marking on a bill, ask people who got the bill to go to the website and report where he got it from. Or you can go shopping and expect to find one in the change you've got. And there's a map where you can check out how far and how long the bill has traveled.
I thought it was illegal to make any marks on the currency. At least that's what I guessed. Apparently it didn't bother these people too much. Accroding to the law, People also own part of the rights on the design of the currency. So it is allowed to be used in art work but of course not 'reproduction'. I remember reading about an article telling you how to scan a bill and import it into photoshop. There was a deviced built in photoshop to recognize a bill and it will refuse to open the file.
Not until last week I ran into a one dollar bill that has a line of red printed words www.whereisgeorge.com circling along the left side "H" mark on the front of the bill. I wouldn't pay any attention to it if it were not the person who gave me the money took an extra second looking at it curiously. I also look at it after he handed me that bill, and it was funny I suddenly felt like I was recruited in some sort of clandestine organization.
I put the bill in my wallet and went about my things for the rest of the day. Just before I got home, I went into a supermarket and bought something for the dinner. It was not expansive, so I paid by cash. And what did I do? I gave the bill to the cashier. I realized it right after I went out of the store but I quickly turned around and went to the cashier asking for my money back. She was confused for a moment but I explained I WANT the one dollar bill with 'whereisgeorger.com' on it and will give her another dollar for a fair exchange. But it was too late. There'd been two or three customers in between and she must have given it out.
Oh, well. I know, I know. Life is not perfect.
Talking about money, Andy Warhol had been asked why he painted money. He said,
"I'd asked around 10 or 15 people for suggestions. Finally one lady friend asked the right question, 'Well, what do you love most?' That's how I started painting money."
April 20 ZICAM Allergy ReliefZICAM Allergy Relief (Non-Drowsy version with 50¢ coupon)
1. Remove cap and
safty clip.
2. Hold with thumb at bottom of bottle
and nozzle between your fingers.
3. Before using the (((while I am writing this, a string of water runs down my left nostril. I have to get up and retrive a tissue from the bathroom. --- Now I am back. Let's continue.))) first time, prime pump by depressing several times.
4. Place tip of nozzle just past nasal
opening (approximately 1/8").
5. (((My nose is itchy. I might need to sneeze anytime.))) While inside nasal opening, slightly angle (((now there's a string of water comes out from my right nostril. It sort of hangs on the tip of my nose. I tilt my head and hold a steady position. I might be able to finish this line.))) nozzle outward, as shown.
6. Pump once into each nostril. (((Need to go to the bathroom. Oh, no. I see the old tissue I just used. It's still usable. No need to move.)))
7. After application, press lightly on outside of each nostril for about 5 seconds.
8. Wait at least 30 (((HHHHHa---choooo, excuse me.))) seconds before blowing nose.
9. Use once every 4 hours. (((What? Really?)))
10. (((I am thirsty, I need to get some water. Back. While I was in the kitchen getting water, I blowed my nose and dried it with dish towel.))) Optimal results may not be seen for 1-2 weeks. (((WHAT??))) After 1-2 weeks, may need to use only 1-2 times daily. (((Dude!! No kidding!))) For best results, use up to one week before contact with known causes of your allergies. (((Uhum?)))
Children under 6 years of age: consult a doctor before use.
Active Ingredient: Luffa Operculata 4x, 12x, 30x; Galphimia Glauca 12x, 30x; Histaminum Hydrochloricum 12x, 30x, 200x; Sulphur 12x, 30, 200x
(((left nostril, not kidding, nose water running down ever slowly. I can feel it running down my nostril. Now it's at the tip of my upper lip.)))
Inactive Ingredients: Benzalkonium chloride, benzyl alcohol, edetate disodium, glycerin, hydroxyethylcellulose, potassium chloride, potassium phosphate, purified water, sodium chloride, sodium phosphate
Warnings: For nasal use only. Ask a doctor before use if you have ear, nose or throat sensitivities, or if you are susceptible to nose bleeds. (((oh damn, there's a faint blood color on the tissue. Let me see... I am not sure, it looks pinky...))) When using this product, avoid contact with eyes. In case of accidental contact with eyes, flush with water and immediately seek professional help. The use of this container by more than one person may spread infection. Stop use and ask a doctor if symptoms persist. If pregnant or breast-feeding, ask a health professional before use. Keep out of reach of children. If swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away. (((where is that?)))
Zicam Allergy Relief
No known drug interactions
No ordor or bad taste
No drowsiness No jitters
Non-habit forming (((wait, I find sticking the tip of that thing in my nose kinda fun.)))
Homeopathic
Satisfaction guaranteed
allergy | instruction | reliefApril 11 The war of supermarketsFor almost 3 years the ground floor at 14th street's NYU palladium dorm had been left empty. If you lived in New York long enough, NYU palladium dorm is just one block away from Union Square, you'll know how hot that location is. It would be insanely expansive to rent that space. But then only NYU has the amplitude to afford leaving it empty for such a long time.
When I just got here, I lived in a hostel for a while. Which located on 15th street and Irving place. I loved Irving place. It's such a nice little street filled with quiet delicate atmostphere and a view of Chrysler building in the middle of the skyline. But that's not the point here. When I just got here, the palladium place was a dead spot. I remembered walking pass the big dark block on my way to bars in east village. People told me it used to be a famous underground club. All the celebrities were there, Andy Warhol, etc etc..., and Andy Warhol, I only remember Andy Warhol. Anyhow, they were all there. And then the club closed down. Everything was gone. The glamour, the crowd, the light. All gone. I missed the time, all I could see was the graffiti filled iron door and the dirty sidewalk in front of it.
Not for too long. NYU came in. The place was torn down, a new modern building was erected. Somehow ugly. The worst news is, it is to be a dorm. But then this is just my incidental whine, I aimed to talk about something else.
In the beginning, there was only one supermarket around Union Square. On the eastside of the square, open 24 hours, called A&P, later renamed Food Emporium. Such a bad name. It took me several years to finally able to remember the name and I can hardly utter it out of my mouth in a conversation. "Hey, neighbor, where are you going?" "I am going to..., you know, to..., that supermarket near Union Square."
And then Garden of Eden came along. It saved me a little trip to west village. But it can never replace Jafferson market and Gourmet Garage's superior place in my heart. During the weekend, it's actually a nice walk to Gourmet Garage and Jefferson market then back to east village where I live. Sometimes I would go up to chelsea to the wholefoods market. That's when I was in an extremely good mood.
About a year ago, finally after a long wait, wholefoods market opened in Union Square. People rushed in like a bunch of refugee just got off from a boat. Without comparison, their stuff was definitely fresh and delicious. But their price was redicurously high.
3 weeks ago, the fourth supermarket opened near Union Square, at the ground floor of the NYU dorm. It's also Trader Joe's first store in Manhattan. Again people rushed in like the food is free plus there's another Katrina coming. The line for check out circled the entire store and out of the door. I tried to avoid rush hour and got in there several times. The first time when I checked out, I thought I won the lottory. Cause for the grocery I bought, normally it would cost me $70 bucks at wholefoods, and Trader Joe's only ask $40. My god, I said to myself, 'this is amazing.'
Then I was hooked. I noticed a roast beef sandwich was only $4.50. A protein shake was 1.25. I brough back home two huge brown bags of food only cost me $45, top. They don't have fresh sea food and meat stand though. NO, I can't complaint, I can't complaint. How can I say any bad things to these guys who make living in New York City so much easier. They are god sent, aren't they? (Imagine my eyes filled with grateful tears.)
Today, the fourth time I went there. I picked a less crowded hour but still, people were buying like there's no tomorrow. I was just gonna pick up some basic groceries and get out of there asap. But then I couldn't believe my eyes. The price has gone up. How could they do this? How could they do this to me? Oh, no, I mean, how could they do this to all the people who loved them? I couldn't balance myself. Even though I am usually very shy about speaking up, in this case, I found myself looking for someone to give me an explaination.
"Excuse me, " and I am so good at picking person, that I picked the girl holding a [here is the end of line] board. "Can you tell me what's going on here?" "Uh?" She was totally confused. "You guys are raising the price already?" "No. We never raised our price." She answered with a smile. "Yes you did." "Well, sir. That's not possible." "But you did. See, a dozen of eggs used to be .99 cents. Now it's 1.10. I am not kidding." "Really? Gee..., maybe you wanna talk to our manager." "I..., well, uh..., manager?" "Yeah, he is that guy over there with a blue shirt." Then she went to get him for me. "Hello, sir. How can I help you?" "Hello. I... I have a question." I lowered my voice, sort of whispered to him. " Did you just raise the price?" "No, that's not possible." He whispered to me too. "But the eggs are more expansive now..." I proved my point. "Oh, the dairies sometimes fluctuate a bit. In order to keep it fresh and keep an ample supply." He said. "Oh, I see." I was still whispering, "I understand. Thank you." I quickly gethered my stuff and went for check out.
wholefoods | trader joe's | supermarketFebruary 02 Be happy. Right now. Right this moment. Just for one second.My best friend who lives in Vancouver emailed me yesterday about his mishap.
He was driving in Richmond. A rock fell from the sky and broke a big hole in his windshield. Luckily, he was not hurt. But he was covered by broken glasses everywhere, in the hair, in the clothes. The experience must be shocking.
Again and again, we found similar lesson in our life. We knew about it until we really experienced it and then forget about it all the next day. ---Life is unpredictable. Anybody can die any time.
There was one time in my life I had came across this threshold.
When I was in high school, the social group I led had a weekend outing to a deserted trench. It was winter. Out there in the field was windy and the sky was gray. We just arrived there no longer than 20 minutes and some of us were talking about the place being haunted and the rumor about it. Suddenly someone fell into a well and disappeared. He was just beside me a minute ago. We went near the well, tried to look inside and called for him. But there was no answer. No one can see the bottom of the well. We couldn't even hear a sound of him hitting the bottom or anything.
The wind kept blowing hard. It was so strong that I felt any word came out from my mouth would have been blown away at once.
We were all shocked and found no way to rescue him. Finally someone thought about getting help from the military base near by. They came and went into the well from a secret trench. They said the place was haunted. We went in with them into the bottom of the well from the trench. It was pitch dark and bitter cold in there. We kept walking and walking till we came to the an space where we could look up to see the circled sky from the bottom of the well. From the top to the bottom was almost six stories high. With rusted broken sharp iron grips protruding from the side of the well, He didn't have much chance to survive. That friend of mine was long gone.
I thought about him falling in pitch black silence. It might have took him about three seconds to hit the ground. What was it like in that three seconds for him in that cold dark well? Could it be me if it were me walking ahead of him?
I imagine myself falling ever slowly in the dark for three seconds that might have been perceived as forever.
It might sound difficult. But I told myself start doing it from now on. Be happy. Right now. Right this moment.
Even just for one second. living | death | momentFebruary 01 February newsNever in my life it occured to me once that I have to move out of Manhattan.
But little by little, the reality came after me like it does to anyone else. I had been stubborn and reluctant and so let some chances of getting anther place in the city passed by during the last several years.
Now I have to take the hard reality all at once.
I went out to Queens to look at apartments. First at Sunnyside. It's about 3 stops on 7 train after Queens Plaza. 20 minutes ride from Midtown. The neighbourhood was clean but boring. A broker took me to see several apartments. They have the worst attitude. I do all the work, all they do is walk me to see the apartment. Once I like it and put in the application, they just sit there and wait for me to pay one and an half month broker fee. Bloodsuckers.
Seen serveral apartments and I was still not sure about any of those. I compared each of them to my friend's lofty apartment in Jackson Heights. None of them can stand up to that. I was hoping deep inside my heart, maybe there'll be an apartment in his building I can rent.
Then he called me. There's a vacancy. He was going out the door and saw a tiny post next to the intercom. He called me right away. I asked him to go see the place for me. He went back, the post was gone. There's a man sitting in the lobby holding a baby. He hesitated about asking him or not, then he saw the man holding that piece of paper.
"Are you here to look at the apartment?" He asked.
"Oh, no. I am renting out that apartment. But the board told me to take my post down just now. You saw it? It was up for like only 20 minutes." The man answered.
So he called me to come to see it right away. I dressed up quickly and went for the subway. There're a bunch of subways go to Jackson Hights. It's a big station over there. Local R train takes 45 mintues from Union square. Express E train takes 20 minutes. Besides, F, V, G, 7 train all stop there. Only thing is, it's an Inidan congregation. Usually I don't prefer ethnical neighbourhood. But after seeing the apartment, I think I can ignore the rest. From the surface, the area seems kind of chaotic. But to look at it the other way, it is also energetic. On top of it, there's no annoying broker fee.
I have been psyching myself up for moving out to Queens. It's OK. Everybody moves around. It's now cheapest in Queens. So why not pay less and live better. In serveal years I can move around more. To Brooklyn. Back to Manhattan. Someday. I will know more about the big apple. It's a shame that I've lived here for 8 years and the times I went out to see Queens or Brooklyn were countable by my two hands.
One of my friend moved 10 times during 8 years. And I was 0. At least she got to know the city a lot more than I did. I told her I think that's a good part.
It's my third day in a row heading to Jackson Heights. I walked around and checked out the neighbourhood. At lunch time, I had the best taco in my life near the subway station. I walked into this Mexican restaurant and found no English menu. The waitress was nice to explain me about the food. Finally I saw the words I was familiar wtih, burrito, taco, enchilada. So I ordered 2 beef taco then pointed the juice bar and asked her what is the juice. She told me they are 'flower juice'.
"Hmmm, I don't think I'd be up for drinking flowers." I said.
We both laughed. Then she got me a sampler.
The lunch only cost me 5 dollars.
Come down to it, I realized nothing is as bad as you would imagine it. There's always another side of the matter you've never known. The application is now still pending. I cross my fingers.
living | moving | apartment
 January 11 Nothing’s gonna change my worldIt’s strange how sometimes a song sticks to you without you being noticing it. I didn’t used to plug headphones in my ears while walking around in the city. But I recently got an ishuffle for free from singing up a credit card. I wanted it for a long time but had just found out that I am a novice for listening music on the go. I guess I am an old fashioned man. When I walk around, I'd rather hear the sound of the city than being enclosed in the music that has totally no connection with what is happening around me. I want to hear people talking, subway train rumbling, car tires rustling. Even when it's quiet, the space is humming. I want to join them, not being taken away to some other world far away by myself. I've already had enough time being alone by myself. When I walk in the city, I want to become part of it. I listen to the music of the city. This was a principle since when I was in Paris, as the same now in New York. However, ishuffle is such a nice gadget to have. Especially when it’s free. I filled in it almost 100 songs from my library randomly. I started to walk around with those two white headphone plugs in my ears. I listened to some music that fitted the mood I was in and skipped some. That’s when I started to notice I have lots of music I haven’t really listened to. A Cocteau twins’ song strikes me in a way like I could have been a pad of green grass without getting water for a week. Like a leaf being crushed between fingers and the green being roughly brushed away. While I was walking in midtown, between those skyscrapers, the green got on the façade of the buildings. I don’t know the name of the song, but definitely recognize Cocteau twins because of Elisabeth Fraser’s ethereal voice. I walked into the subway station. Two trails of train tunnel and the iron supports are in different shades of black. I hardly say anything to anyone. It’s winter in January, the air was frozen. I took a deep breath and felt it went deep into my lung. I didn’t know this other song was from The Beatles. And I actually didn’t like it in the beginning. It was a little too soft sounding, a bit wishy-washy. But for some reason it stuck on the back of my brain. After I refilled the ishuffle and the song was gone, now I heard myself humming it. I had to find out what it was. So I googled the one line ‘refrain’ and found out it’s actually titled ‘Across the universe’. I have lived in this city for a long time. It seems like everything is so familiar yet they are changing every single moment. I kept my silence and got in a subway train. People were talking without words. Out of nowhere, suddenly, I found myself humming, Nothing’s gonna change my world. Nothing’s gonna change my world.
p.s. I just found out the version I listened to is actually not sung by Beatles. No wonder. It's sung by Rufus Wainwright. If you wonder how they are different, go this link to find them. music | the beatles | Rufus WainwrightOctober 23 On a Winter Sunday in Vancouver
I sit in the study room on the ground floor of the house. Opened the usually closed curtain, I can see our front yard, green turned yellow lawn and the maple tree which has already turned into deep bright red like a burning fire.
This is my favorate room in the house. Since I borrowed my young brother's notebook, I can work and go online in this room while looking out the window.
There is not much going on in front of the house. Here is the west side of Vancouver. 41 streets away from downtown. Sometimes in the afternoon I see a mailman stops by to drop off mails. Neighbors walking by. Students got off from school. An old caucasian man walking his dog passing by and looked into the window seeing me typing away on my computer and gave me a friendly nod. For a long while there would be a car driving slowly passing by.
A garbage can stood in the middle of the pavement in front of the house. I think my brother Mark had carried it out there for the garbage collectors. I am not sure if it was collected yet.
The usual Vancouver winter is always gray like this. No sunshine no rain. Just gray. Everything is gray.
I took out a book and started to flip around and tried to decide which short poem I will translate next.
It's less then a job, a commitment or something. Whenever I feel needed, I took out the book and go through it to find a poem I can translate.
It works like some kind of anchoring. I don't care about the speed, nor the quantity. I just quietly translate one poem after the other when I feel the need.
"It's time. Let's do it." I'd tell myself.
September 21 unbeatable bitches Inc.I went to volunteer some work time for a company to get some related experience this week.
In the work place I ran into 3 kinds of unbelivable crazy women.
The first kind : 'Ms. Lonely' type
She was petite. Her skin pale but she is no less a pretty woman. In the beginning she was a bit cold. But after some chatting I found her became nicer to me. I thougt we got a nice friendship going on here. 3 hours past, by the end of the night shift, we were offered food. I wasn't in the mood to eat anything and just wanted to leave. I greeted everyone to say goodbye. When I told her I was gonna take off, she put down the food and said then she was leaving too. Meaning, she was going to leave with me. I was shocked. Didn't know what to say at that moment. I paused 10 seconds, then I harden my face and say as if it's a command, "I think you shoud stay and finish your food." She understood what I meant and right away felt embarrassed and ran away to advoid seeing me.
The second kind : 'Watch out, I am a business woman' type
She is not pretty and she knows it so she thinks if she makes herself look like a 'super professional business woman', then things will change for her. The truth is, nothing is going to change, babe. No men in the world is going to have any interest in her. The poor girl, no looks, no men, even don't know how to dress properly for her own benefit, she can only become nasty. She picks on people, she is in a nasty mood all the time. She tries to butter up people she thinks are important, and treats people who has 'no value' to her like shit. Hello girl, if somebody works for you to help you get your job done and they are getting no pay or much less than you got paid, you'd better know how to appreciate than treating them like shit. All those shit, listen to me, will come back to you in your face all together one day. Maybe when you go home look in the mirror, you'll find it's already happening.
The third kind : 'Hey, don't babe me' type
She is a pretty woman and she knows it. She is polite, appropriate and kind on the skindeep level. Deep down, she is a shark. She is clever, very aware of what is going on and always has her way of dealing it nicely. But she thought every man approches her wants something from her. I only thought that she is not bad a person, pretty, and focused. So I thought I'd chat her up and maybe make aquaintance with her. Who knows maybe someday we'd need a little help from a friend. But she 'skillfully' turned me down for leaving conatct infomation, as if I am some kind of pervert who is going to call her day and night. Pouleeeze, I swear to god, even if she strips naked, I don't even bother to look.
Those woman from unbeatable bitches Inc. demonstrated how narrow minded a person can be. Get a grip on yourself, will you?
Confucius once said, 'good men don't fight with bad women'. I told myself so, and then I had to take a pill to calm me down.
Now I feel better.
September 18 Just take a pill, damn it.
This is an excerpt of MSN conversation of me with a neurologist doctor friend of mine. I think I caught her in a bad time. She was over worked exhausted and disoriented. This is just for fun, not meant to refer to her reliability. She is usually a very straight forward, to the point kind of person. This is also a long distance communication back and forth between New York and Stockholm… if that could account for any miscommunication possibility here.
Doc: Do you sleep well, I have some problems of sleeping now Me: why is that? Doc: too high? Me: you? too high? Come on. Doc: But hair loss is disgusting Me: what? Me: are you citing some poem? Me: it's a beautiful line..."but hair loss is disgusting" Doc: depend on if it's good Me: now you lost me Doc: never mind Doc: it is original, of course Me: ??? Me: what's our subject here? Doc: I am going to Copenhagen next week Me: oh nice Doc: oh thanks Me: are you doing ok? Doc: I am fine, just feel the brain is spinningtalk about y Me: maybe you should get some rest? Doc: don't worry I will Me: you work too much Me: take a deep breath Me: slow and long Doc: I usually go to the gym to exhaust myself for good sleep Me: Inhale Me: Exhale Me: do it Me: now Doc: got it Me: take sleeping pills Me: i do it sometime Me: it's not bad. almost no side effect. Me: there’s one that’s pretty light... temezapan Doc: as long as I exercise, it is fine Me: let me make sure the name Doc: what are you doing Me: temazapam Doc: is there a trade name Me: no it's a prescription drug Me: you are a doctor, you can get yourself this... or ask your doctor Me: TEMAZEPAM Me: it's not addictive Doc: overall, I am happy Me: good to know you are happy Doc: It is time to go home Me: exercise is not good for sleeping Me: it will stimulate you and not let you sleep well Me: get the pill, ok? Doc: i do it at least 2 hours before sleep Me: that's not good Doc: I am afraid that I am resistant to drugs Me: when you exercise you'll be stimulated and it's harder to sleep Me: you are a doctor and you are telling me you don't like pills? Doc: besides, you need to get a prescription from a doctor for all kinds of drugs Me: just try to give in to something, will you? it's not gonna kill you Me: it'll make your life easier Doc: god, you sound like Vincent (--my note-- Vincent is my friend who has every drug for any kind of complications. Diarrhea? Take a pill.) Me: and i am speaking from my experience Me: and i care about you Doc: thanks Me: so be a good girl and ask your doctor about temazepam. Me: go home to sleep now Doc: I am at home Me: oh... then... go to bed now...(you are not going to tell me you are in bed..?) Doc: I am FINE, it is not that bad Doc: I can't sleep so early Me: i felt like i was chatting with an auto-generated message machine Me: don't work out before going to bed Doc: ok, switch topic Me: trust me, i am a gym guru now Me: haha Doc: i believe U August 10 the new elevator in my buildingFor the longest time today is the first time I took the new elevator.
Yes, on August 9th, 2005 4:19pm. I saw a sign says it is back on service. Even though I already got the old one door opened, I gave it up and decided to take the new one. :) It was nice. Very smooth and quiet. Smells new rubber. Oh, the floor is covered with rubber. It feels great to have 2 elevators. Hardly any building in east village can beat that! August 03 My days without a digital cameraAs soon as I found out the trade-in program, it didn't take me 30 seconds and I was already filling out the form and getting my old canon camera assessed.
I had that canon digital camera for almost 2 and a half years now. It looks cool still, but it's heavy and bulky. Since I take the camera with me everywhere everyday, it started to feel like I was carrying a piece of brick around.
It's strange about people's different ideas about the size. Some things you want them big, while some other things you want them small. So it's not always 'the bigger the better'. Which was THE idea in this strange country. Bigger car, bigger TV, bigger houses, bigger triceps, bigger this bigger that. Even movies can be 'bigger'.
Japan is a country which truely understands the delicacy of small things. They do great designs for tiny things. Just compare the cell phone that made in Japan and made in the U.S., the difference is quite obvious.
Anyhow, there's this trade-in program online where you can sell back your old equipment and get a new one with the discount of the worth of the old equipment. After I filled out the form, I got a quite decent assessment of the camera. I thought, fine. It's not too bad. So I decided to get rid of it and get a new camera.
I printed out the shipping label and found a paper box in the basement to wrap up my old camera. Next day I took it to the UPS and had it shipped off.
Since then, it's been a week now I was out of a camera. I sometimes feel quite uncomfirtable without it. At least now if I got attacked in the night I can't defense myself by throwing that heavy camera on the bad guy's head.
Today I got an email telling me they have received my camera. After inspected the item, they will issue me a gift certificate toward my next purchase. My next new camera is on its way. And I alreay have in mind which one I am going to get.
Nice.
June 17 catskills mountainsI went away for a weekend at a friend of mine's. She moved to a small town, Halcottsville, with her husband and a 3-y-o son in the catskills mountains. They bought a house and a property 3 years ago and moved into the moutains from the city. They own 2 houses. They set up the smaller house as bed and breakfast. I've never had a chance to see her place till this time. It was rather a long drive. From the city to her house, it took almost 4 hours. But I think it took so long also because we stoped several places on our way, including a gas station, McDonold's for an ice cream and a slightly bigger town, Poenicia. I liked the house. There's a nice wrap around porch where you can sit down and hang day or night. We had dinner on the porch and then drank beer and gossiped. The first night the weather was not better than in the city. It was humid, hot and sticky. But the next day it got a bit cooler. And that's really nice cause it's not as hot as in the city. I've never come up-state of new york. Except for I had been to one other friend's country house around Miford. But that's at the west side of New York state, near New Jersy and New York's border. I checked out the map after got home. Catskills mountains are the nearest mountains to New York City. The next place I wanted to check out is Bard College Fisher Center for the performing arts. It's at Hudson valley. I wonder who I can borrow a car from. Or maybe I'll persude someone who has a car to go with me.
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