Dark was the night.

It wouldn’t have done anything. The street was empty. He purses his lips and walks, counting the sleeping lampposts as he passes them.

25? Or was it 24?

He tugs the lip of the hood, his furrowed brow covered, hidden. Hidden to no one.

Must have took the wrong turn.

The wind pushes him along, aiding his every step. But the candle was at its mercy, flickering naked and helpless guarded valiantly by a thin bulbous glass wall. He needs it. Oh how he needs it.

He brings it close to his shirt pocket, sparking a little light in his ink-soaked heart. The silence around him, deafening. But he hears it. He hears it all, loud. Clear. The heart speaks enough to fill a thousand tomes. His heart. His ink-soaked heart. The words course through the veins filling his every being, smarting every pore.

A respite with every word and every letter that escapes. But each returns, untouched, tattooing the bare beating heart,  darkening it with every beat, every breath, every step. The palm clutches it. Comfort is but skin-deep.

The dying light reaches only as far as his next step. Covered in the night, he leaves a trail. A trail of ink. He bleeds. And he is letting it. As it flows, the pain goes. Drip by drip.  Bit by excruciating bit.

It marks the way on this quiet road. Deeper he walks, darker the night. Should the sun rise, should memories beckon, all he will see, all there will be, is this ink-stained road of forgotten hopes.

哪儿

哪个地方能让人听见自己的心灵？
哪本书能让我再找回自己？
哪把吉他能唱出今生的歌？

无限的天涯，辽阔的脑海。

走在岸边，

找回自己的你，找出自己的她。

六月十三日 的那一天，大老早就起了床（5am)。不知怎么搞的，就写了这一些。。。 。。。

One Rubber Robot Day

This note is three days late. Um, make that four.

What do you wake up for? Does anything give you reason to live another day? What do you think about when you brush your teeth in the morning? Does anyone make you breakfast? Do you even eat breakfast? Do you read the papers? Oh? For the news? Or of numbered horses and bouncing chances? Do you leave the house and kiss someone goodbye?

Do you go running after buses that goes by as fast as you behind the wheel? Do you work for someone? Is there someone you are working for? Oh? Is that so? What are you having for lunch? That's lunch? A little early for that, no? Ha. Well, I should've know better. The occasional splurge? Or the usual? What's your usual? I never knew.

Do you have a purpose? What's your purpose? Was I a purpose? Were we ever a purpose? Or were we too much to handle? Where are you going? Back to work? You forgot something. You always did, you know that? Oh? OK. OK...

Hey, uh, you wanna hang out this weekend or something? Oh, OK? No problem. What's that? Really?! What, now? Yeah, sure, I suppose... Yeah! Movie? OK. There's that one with the robot, would you mind? Cool. Oh just us? Love it... I mean, yeah, let's do it! That was nice, wasn't it? Oh wow, you got me this? Awesome! You have no idea. Seriously... Wow. I'll keep it close, always. What? Heh, yeah, I'm kinda happy today! (That day) Why did you even have to ask? (You must love me, I hope.) So uh, time to head back huh? Yeah, I had a great time too. Let's do this again. We'll do it again right? Huh? Oh, yeah, I got to go do this one thing. Too. Yup, um, sure... See you. (Yes?) Thanks for the robot! It's great! Bye! Bye...

Hey wait, what's this? Ah, thanks. Here's some mandarin oranges. Happy Chinese New Year. Again. Nice tiles you got there. Uh, all the best? See you again next year maybe suppose probably. Bye. Bye...

Oh that robot? It broke. I'm too clumsy (I played with it all the time), wasn't careful (I didn't want to let it go), lost it sometime (I couldn't look at it without thinking about you). So what's going on? Hey, where are you... going... Right. Of course. What was I thinking? Heh... Yeah it's late. A little too late. Should get going. No, really. No, bye. Go. Go home. Go...

What do you go back to? A home? A house? A space? A memory? Or nothing? Like nothing you have done. All the nothing you did. The nothing you did for our sakes. Poof. Too many years. Too far away. Too insignificant. Too nothing, too late. Why? Did you have to? It would've been nice, but did you? No. Thanks for nothing, I guess.

Ever wonder? Wonder what could've been? How do you go to bed? How do you fall asleep? Do you sleep? Can you even sleep? Do you sleep wondering? Do you sleep dreaming, reliving, redoing, reloving, reworking the possibilities, the... nevermind. Huh, me? Naw, I stopped long ago. Stopped the wondering, the pondering, the longing, the dreaming, the you–can't–give–us–much–but–it's–OK–we–can–do–this–I don't–blame–you–a–single–bit. Just do your thing, that's all there is to it. Screw expectations, we had none. I had none. You could've at least tried. But you didn't. Yeah, I left it in that bin where the robot went. You might have to look for it a little bit. Might be hard. Ask around, you might find it. Maybe inside. Yeah, look inside. Maybe the robot ended up there, inside you. I hope you find it maybe. Maybe.

But it's OK. really. Oh, cos you are the robot see? The rubber robot. That's what you are. And no, I don't have the robot with me anymore, like I told you. It's in the bin, and I don't quite remember which bin. If you wanna look, look inside, inside you. You might find it once again. But do you want to? Maybe you won't dare to look. Well, it's OK. Nevermind. Hope you had a nice day. As nice as rubber robot day. Because that's all there is and all that it'll ever be. For me.

I think I'm forgetting something. But hmm. then again, there's nothing to remember. Heh. Nevermind.

From me. For you. Happy F. Day.

What will you make of it?

Life is a mess
Plans unravel, hopes dash
But from these fragments
We are to seek perfection

Life is beautiful
The broken restored, the lost found
But in that place where all is good
We find our imperfection

今天的我有点。。。

昨天的我们已消失在谷里
记忆中的你，摸糊静如雾
电话中的我，无声无叹息
今天的你早已远离去
明天的我将回到原地

某天的我依然走下去

On a totally just so you know basis.

Somehow, I really like the movie. Maybe it's the soundtrack. Maybe it's Yugo. Maybe it's New York City. Maybe it's the studio. Maybe it's the guitars. Maybe it's the chase and being chased. Maybe it's reaching the ultimate goal and saying, I've found what I'm looking for and it's not this. Maybe there are not one, but two token Asians. Maybe it's a lot of maybes. But I don't care. Say what you will, I like it.

The way you're moving in your sleep
The way you look before you leap
The strange illusions that you keep
You don't know but I'm noticing

I don't really know how that applies to me or whatever? I like it. Too.

A life less lived.

Aye, a spurious life. Non experimental. Status quo. Acceptable. Look at it with disdain, spur onwards to a life of possibilities, of taking chances, of seizing moments. Victory will be yours. But you must be ready for certain failure, heartaches, loneliness, and ridicule. And this day, choose you must. Laugh in the face of life's uncertainties and live on for it is a short life, this.

The pot of gold may be anything but. However, character, a colourful life, liberation and an unshakeable sense of having lived is yours to keep and no one can ever take that away from you. And this is why we should always be ready to toss a wrench into the gear works of life.

For the opposite is costly–a life commonly lived. Dull. Homogenious. Sterile. With enough regrets, you may end up walking about as a living dead. And what a waste that would be. So I urge you, friends, to live it well and by your own terms and if need be, within reason.

Two rules I will leave you with. The approach, by the balls. The thrust, to tear it a new one. Go forth.