Hong Kong Movie

They were watching a movie about gangster violence and drug trafficking. She was cringing and wringing in her seat. He noticed it and said,

"Haiyah, this is just a movie. Surely Hong Kong isn't so law-less? And even so, the scriptwriters wouldn't know the stories behind the drug dealers what? Unless these movies written by ex-cons, they must be quite fictional."

"Even if it isn't exactly common," she replied, "These crimes of violence are not entirely fictional - They really happen to real people in whatever corners of the world. And that's just hard unbearable to imagine already."

And he felt maligned.

The Bowler Hat

I imagined that the bowler hat, that I bought a few months ago, and wore even fewer times, spoke to me, and I imagined how surprised I felt, and then I realised that all these were imagined, and then I continued to imagine that the bowler hat said these to me,

"I would like to go to Japan in the Spring time and watch the sakuras bloom and wither for an entire month. It would be ideal, if I could also attend the awa odori and get drunk and join in the parade for a while. And if given the chance, I would also want to spend an entire week watching snow fall in a Shinto temple's garden, sometimes while listening to the tanukis' snore.

"But, seriously, what are the chances for a black bowler hat with lofty aspirations to go on a cultural tour of the Orient. For if I were you," with 'you' meaning me, "and I were to be lucky enough to go for these colourful gay cultural events, I, too, won't feel like bringing me along. I'd remind me too much of dreading work, of the working class, of Sisyphus, of the boring etcetera, etcetera. The colours won't even match, imagine the picture of a black bowler hat against the bright blue skies and delicate pinks and white? How inappropriate is the irony of a black bowler hat to enjoy the jolly drunken celebration of living for the reckless moment? It would jeopardise spoiling the good mood of the party.

"Sigh! Nowadays, it seems that one of the most esteemed qualities of a bowler hat is to be reminiscent of Charlie Chaplin, and to make light of the mundane etcetera, etcetera."

I wondered if the bowler hat would feel better if I tie something silly to its puggaree.

I had bought the bowler hat in celebration of Magritte's paintings.

Jie Qi

I bought a clock today. The winning feature of the clock is that, even though battery operated, the second hand ticks softly, much like an automatic watch's second hand. There isn't the reproachful "tick-tock" cry of time passing reprimanding me on how I might never recover every split consciousness I do not spend on progressing towards my life's goals, and instead, for example, on listening to a clock. In this way, I think this clock seems less Confucian, and somehow, more compassionate.

It's hanging on my wall now, in front of me. It's round, with a silver frame, black hands, and a white face - it looks almost serious - except its carelessly unevenly set black arial numbers let on on how casual it really is.

What nice qualities for a clock to have - compassionate and casual.

To think I bought it for 5 dollars only. The brand is "JIE QI" and it's made in China. It shall also serve to remind that the value of time is not measured by the price of the timepiece telling it.

And if it should malfunction anytime too soon, as is reasonable to suspect of anything costing only a quarter of what similar products cost, I would melt it over an open flame or in a microwave.

(sneak.)

Flippers

One day, she woke up and found her ankles missing. Her feet merely stuck out at the end of her legs, like flippers.

At first she was worried thinking about how would she walk and how would she get to work and if she was going to get fired. Then she persuaded herself to be optimistic.

Sometime later, she eventually ended up as a circus act. She made a living by balancing a ball on her nose and pretending to be a seal.

Hm.

Hm. He saw no moon in the sky.
Hm.

After some thought,
he remembered watching the moon wane over the past week.
He wondered if it had diminished
until it's not visible to the naked eye anymore.
Hm.

Red blinking lights - aeroplanes.
Hm. He wondered what it was like to be on a plane
and to be so awfully close to the stars.
Hm.

He couldn't imagine it.
Hm.

The wind herded the clouds South-wards.
Wait. South-wards?
Since when did the Northerly winds started to blow?
Hm.

The breeze persuaded
a little bit of swaying from the tree,
from which the bat flew away from,
and then,
returned.
His wings
fluttered
very softly.
Hm.

The rustling
of the leaves was soothing,
against the insects' songs
sung
night after night
after night.
Hm.

Come to think of it,
where do they hide themselves?
Hm.

Perhaps the songs do not come from insects at all,
but from the night itself.
Hm.

There were also the sounds from the television sets.
And cars, passing by.
Hm.

*

He closed his eyes to concentrate on what he heard,
and on what stirring of air he felt,
and on whether he might be sleepy enough to fall asleep.
Hm.

If he might be sleepy enough,
he would then retire to his kennel.
Hm.

Which was actually a modified iron cage.
Hm.

To wait for tomorrow to come.
Hm.

(sneak.)

想你20

在我们放下电话的那个时刻
我后悔不和你多谈一些。

我想你了。

Funnel

I dreamt I was in a forest, with the air chilly and still. It was just past sunset, so the forest was getting ready to sleep. Birds flew home hastily.

Then a sheep appeared from nowhere. He was big and humanoid in the way that he walked on his two hind legs. His wool was unshaven for a long time, and it was filthy. At first sight, he looked like a bear or a wolf or just some menacing figure. At sight, I was startled and fell over.

He walked towards me and reached towards my hand. Recognising that he was a sheep, and thus stereotypically harmless, I thought he was going to help me up. Instead, he grabbed me by my wrist roughly, and easily overpowered me, and tied my wrists together with a rope that was seemingly made from his wool. It was also rough and cut into my skin. Then, he tied my ankles together.

I laid on my back on the forest floor. He squatted next to my head and held it down by pressing on my forehead with one hoof. With another, he held out a funnel, and stuffed the narrow end into my mouth. I was frightened stiff and forgot to gag.

He then took out a book or a dictionary of some magical sort, from which he poured into the funnel and stuffed something into my mouth. When they started overflowing from the overwhelmed funnel, I saw what they were - words - black strings of letters put together - and they were alive - like fat maggots - which was a bad thing to notice because then I started to I feel them squirm and crawl in my mouth, on my tongue, and down my throat.

Then out of nowhere as well, I suddenly realised it could have been worse - he could have poured glass, or knives, or debit notes, or sins into my mouth. I think they would have been ripping my mouth into bits - since words crawled and squirmed. Sure, it could have been better, but chances are, in a nightmare like this, it would have been worse.

With that somewhat-reconciliation, I drifted away from the dream and went back to sleep.

(sneak.)

Watch out!

There was a girl who was sitting on the toilet bowl one day and she shitted what she initially thought was shit. Then, before she flushed it away, something caught her eye - something that moved in the water. So she pulled her face closer to look.

Floating near the surface of the water, was a little brown hemisphere of something, and from it, fine ribbons hung - a little bit translucent, a little bit murky brown... it was a little brownish jellyfish...

In her mind, she immediately thought of all the marvellous things, wow, the news, the sensation, the fanfare about how she's the miraculous girl who gave birth to a jellyfish. (Through her anus.) Oh how the scientists would have a field day, it might hold the antidote to some strange illness. She had pretty healthy bowels, maybe the jelly fish kept it healthy, maybe it holds the antidote to cancer! Oh no, now that she's shitted it out would she be unhealthy from now? Nah, it'd be okay, it's for mankind, she'd save the world! Watch out, Illness! and Pre-mature Death-due-to-colon-cancer! (It should at least help cure colon cancer.) Here comes the shit jellyfish!

In her frenzy, her body, however, reacted quite differently. Her pupils dilated, and her heart beat faster, and her mouth opened and uncontrollably let out her voice that screamed, "MY SHIT IS ALIVE!" which triggered her arm to uncontrollably reach towards the flush handle which she flushed.

As she watched the jellyfish spiral in the toilet bowl uzumaki (whirlpool), she felt the flush from her face flushed away with her hopes for fame. She stood. Stunned. For a while. It was only until the water in the water tank stopped trickling and the water surface in the towel bowl stopped vibrating altogether then she came to her senses enough to wonder - hey, did I really just see a shit jellyfish in the toilet bowl, or not? and even if I did, did I really shit it out or not? Unless I should ever shit out another jellyfish, I would never know. And even if I shit out another jellyfish, how would I know that I did shit one before, and it was not due to how my mind was set on shitting out a jellyfish?

Confused, perturbed, and in an uncomfortable daze, she went out of the toilet and forgot to wash her hands.

(sneak.)