...

sometimes I feel like the end is near..
I believe the end is exciting.
the end is the epilogue of everything what has been done.

goodness of life..
essence of life..
nature of life...
Aristotle's four causes can't be unwound..
moving.. moving.. moving towards the end..

you may read this.. I may write this..
you may understand this.. I may explain this..
you may love this.. I may entice this...

but it's all going to end.. one way or another..
I so anticipate the end.
Life with an ending is a complete cycle..

....
it's beautiful out there after the rain..

...

thought of the week

"Dreams have only one owner at a time. That's why dreamers are lonely."

-Erma Bombeck, American humorist

...

Lured into the whole world of sham,

I no longer distinguish if the blue is still the blue that I’ve longed to catch from the sea..

They are cultured to think and constantly feeding others the notion

that money and beauty are the core of life…

I have none and I get bored

let me tell you, time has just passed by me….

too late to make money ..

too old to fake beauty

all that I have in these hands is

fantasy fantasy fantasy..

... as soon as the fantasy of life is gone...
I misplace myself, lose my soul, break my core and whatnot

Lonely and loud…

Here is to my dreams..

Never to confuse that blue again..

Jet Lag

“..with a feeling like jet lag—an odd sensation of fragility, of being there and not here, somehow distant from my surroundings.” Roberto Bolano, Sensini.


It’s funny and sad, in a weirdest way….
During the recent journey, I’ve seen so many skies—sky with scores of faces and colors, sky with outrageous mood, sky whose voice calms me down, sky pretending to be sky, sky with or without evenings, and sky who steals my last morning with Asia.

Those skies.. follow me to my deepest unconsciousness.

..when I woke up, it’s in the middle of night.. Then I choked up with nausea in my head..
Seemingly asleep the rest of the world was, or at least my surroundings, I had this numbness, because I tried not to think.. or feel..

Hey.. it’s not a feeling like jet lag, it is a jet lag..
but then I know exactly neither is true..

Who suffers more? The leaver or leavee? I or Asia?
She doesn’t seem to care; it’s morning over there anyway.

I, now, continue to drag my tired body to the familiar arena of seclusion... till the dawn comes..
with its soothing warmth, my soul rests, while my eyes are still open, searching for things that I cannot have.

..

The painting is still incomplete.. I am not satisfied with the color nor the brushstrokes.

..I have terrible headaches..maybe from poor eyesight.. ..My eyes are lazy, and I have overworked them for so long.

Consequently, there is this pain ..so horrible, horrible pain in the head..

Absence....the lack of unknown… even in this moment..

I need sleep..

I need to rest now..

I need to just close my eyes..

But the painting is still not finished..

breaking up with Thibaw

-->

what would I do..

if there were no more stars?

everyday can't be as muted as it is now..

I am in “the Glass Palace”

its mirrors reflecting thousands of images

some near some far

past is now the only witness

inside all these walls

we look around and around..

Nothing left..

one more time and

Nothing exists.

as if there were no as if..

Kipling shouting out “Mandalay”

I keep on looking for the stars..

He, Thibaw, the last King of Burma, the Greatness

with those binoculars..

Searching for the stars that never went home..

What would you do

If there were no more stars?

-->

Marlene Dumas

The writer of "Irrawaddy Tango" and "The Coffin Tree"

"The role of the artist in the East is not to question and challenge the nature of reality but to reconcile society with reality. Self-expression in the Western sense is not the task of the artist in the East. Rather it is affirmation, repetition, the subjugation of the ego’s very desires and ambitions that preoccupy those in the West. "

............

"History, after all, is the version of the victors. The history books are slanted in favor of the successful conquerors. Literature, on the other hand, documents the version of the conquered. I’m on the side of literature. "

Wendy Law-Yone

To Err Is Human

I stepped onto someone's spectacles..
why did he place them on my way?
didn't he know that I was going that way?
..on the ground..who would put glasses on the ground?
was it a trick?
was it an act?
..now they were under my shoes... they were not supposed to be under my shoes.
the owner of the spectacles was from China...I pretended that I didn't know Chinese..
I compensated him with $100.. that's all I had, my friend.
He kept on murmuring in Chinese, holding the broken glasses..I kept on pretending, looking at the red sky bringing in the storm...

it's not easy to be erroneous.
one has to be very careless and unobservant..
perhaps, I am too human..

...I am too human to not look for the things where they are not supposed to be..
..I am too human to not think that there are other human beings just like me who are ready to make errors..
...I am too human to not expect things coming into my way and only to realize it's too late after tripping..
..
..way too human..
..

...

Today I am very unfortunate..
Or yesterday or tomorrow..
..there is only callousness around me..
It’s only too cold..
so I try to smile… cheer up .. and be pleasant within my ability to do so..
…but too hard.. too hard to please you..
Maybe I have already been a vile person, and it’s too late to mend my standing..

I am back from 1999 to 2009..
just like ten years ago, through the clouds..
I could see the mountains, the ocean, the fields, buildings, rivers, trees, all the landscape from the sky.. and darkness and sunlight
there were tears on the little pillow..soaking wet.

just now I was looking at the wrinkled faces..theirs..his..hers and mine..
it was just now..
just now..
gazing upon the moon and not being able to distinguish it was a star or some other object next to it..I sang loudly and merrily.
there came raindrops onto my face when I was sound asleep..
after suddenly opening my eyes, I beheld the city night lights from the hill top, remembering all the lights that I had seen in my life.
it was just now--laughters, sobs, hugs, kisses, loud arguments--all around me..

now a plane's carrying my physical self to a place totally new to me..
it's just like ten years ago.

I remember there were
lots of planes..lots of trains..
lots of familiar faces, lots of unfamiliar faces..
lots of movements, lots of stillness..

I can't believe I am here now, just in a blink of an eye..
wasn't I there just now..?
How can I go back to those times?
How can I go back to those seconds?
How can I go back to those minutes?
How can I go back to those hours?
How can I go back to those days?

please tell me, how can I go back to those years?

where is the noodle soup? where is that warm blanket? where is that voice telling me to brush my teeth? where's that hiking trail? where are the city lights? where are the fishes? where is that snoring sound? where is that smiling moon? where is that little teddy bear? where are the noises from the playground? where is the small soft voice? where is the music? where is the coffee shop? where are the street lights? where are those faces?

where are they? where are they? where are they?

Now, there are only shadows around me..when I look around, there are only clouds!
How can I tell it was not a dream? too fast..just slipping away..
How can I tell I am not merely a dream?
yes, it's all a dream now..
I don't believe in Descartes anymore...
I think...but I am not there..
where is 1999?
how could everyone leave behind 1999?
how could I have forgotten 1999?
why could I never go back there anymore?
please tell me...
and please take me there again...

..
..

I: Fragmentations

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I am physically and mentally old
and
broke at all times..
I have been away from home.. Drifting and drifting for many years..
Until someone stops me.. When will that be?
I got an IQ of 90 from one test and 142 from the other.
So I believe my IQ is fluctuating.
I once possessed a parrot and fed her chillies everyday to make her talk.
She died by eating too much chillies.
I am rude, cruel, jealous and gluttonous.
My mother critically believes that my father is a very tricky person
and I am exactly like him.
I am happy most of the time but try to believe that I am miserable
so that I can use that reason and have self-pity to treat myself
with good food and take naps as much as I desire.
When I eat, I become sleepy and when I sleep, I become hungry.
I can’t swim for the reason that I am so scared of water,
not because I hate water, but because water hates me.
After I die, I want my ashes to be spread over Irrawaddy River,
because that’s where my grandmother was born..
She had the sweetest smell and cutest face on earth.
I once lived in a small room, which had a little window
where I could see the moon every night.
I looked at it..so long.. until I felt dizzy and fell asleep.
I am very greedy, but too lazy to work hard to earn anything.
I just believe one day, and in a very near future,
I will find millions of dollars on the sidewalk
so I am very careful when walking down the street.
I paint, take photographs, make art pieces
and collect things from other people’s trash.
That’s all I possess in my life.
I’ve studied many different disciplines and become too confused
because everything needs hard slog.
I’ve done many different jobs and still remain at the same spot
because everything needs hard work.
Now I blame everything on establishment and the system.
I call myself “an artist” because that’s the closet category
I can put myself into
and I am too sluggish to find out other ones.
My best friend read my palm and said that I would die in 4 years.
Therefore, why make friends?
it's easier to make foes.
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