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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Fantasy

Clouds : Undefinable Moments

My car stereo has been broken since the accident a while ago.
For some ridiculous reasons, I' ve always believed that I could fix it without going to the mechanic.
I used to fix things at my grandparents' house. I was pretty handy.
well..., there're some cases where things became worse and got into unusable state, but these were very rare. (at least I believe so!)
With such a great confidence, I've been waiting for the perfect day to do it, but that perfect day hasn't arrived yet..
why? .....??? just because that's me...
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it seems nothing to do with clouds...
but, in my case, it does...
since there's no music when I drive, I tend to look at the sky, especially at those clouds..
like music before, clouds become my companionship throughout the trips.
They accompany with me, follow my endless thoughts and go along with my different states of mind..
they are so fragile, forming irregular shapes..
is it all about the wind? or the environment? or their moods?
I can't guess how they will become everytime I observe them althought we've become so bonded over the course of our association.
they are mysterious.. unsolvable puzzles...
where do they come from? where are they going? where will they end up?
...I can't tell... I can't predict....I can't be certain...
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a couple of times, I painted clouds..
they were always changing their form on the canvas.. they wanted to escape..they wanted to be free, but they couldn't find a way, because I put them in boundaries.. I tied them up...
they couldn't get away..
and I hated those paintings..these are still in the garage..
I believe those clouds are still longing to run away from me..
how can I capture some clouds of my own?
how can I make them stay with me forever without so much aggressiveness?

yes, clouds are very fragile, but also.. extremely aggressive..

akin to clouds, my mind is always wandering ... as if there's no place to take refuge...
I ponder and ponder..
I wonder and wonder..
I reverie and reverie..
when will all these end?
how will all these end?
where will all these end?
... is there really an ending?...
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last night, when I drove back home, there was no glimpse of clouds.. it was such a dark night..
but I knew clouds were somewhere...invisible, but existing..
I was so sure they were watching over and escorting me till I felt asleep...
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that night, I didn't dream at all..




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Robert Rauschenberg

William Eggleston

Train

One train passed by me, and then another..
the station was packed.. the huge crowd was waiting for the train which would carry them to their destinations ...
everyone had their own destination..

I had my own.. the smart-dressed business man had his own.. a group of giggly junior high school girls had theirs .. the teenager in trendy outfit playing with his mobile phone had his.. the middle-aged ladies each holding a bag with department store logo on it had their own...

I got on a “Limited Express” train along with the collapsing crowd.
The automatic door closed just behind me and the station seemed too far away now.

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.....It was dark in the room..I could see the light from the corridor of my apartment..
and there came a train blowing its whistle…
long, nostalgic whistle...

I looked at the ceiling fan quietly turning..
It seemed everywhere I went, there’s always train ..
I’ve learned to like the melancholy sound of a train at night and it normally brought back a lot of memories…

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…the twinkling lights were here and there as we were approaching residential area…

I was only 10, holding my backpack and eating plums from a bag that my mother bought for me..
Under my feet was a lunch box .. that morning, my mother got up even before dawn to prepare it for me.
I was on my way back to Rangoon on a train after the summer vacation spent with my parents..
Alone…. Yes…. Alone by myself..

It was okay for me to travel alone.. I was not extra brave nor were my parents incautious.
It was okay then on condition that they knew the person who was sitting next to me..

Looking into the starless sky and darkness of the night, I immediately knew that the lights were from small huts or houses of the village ..
I felt very peaceful … the calmest moment, the happiest moment, the unflustered moment..

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Whenever I closed my eyes now, I could go back to that moment, remembering the night without stars, but the lights from the small village…
It felt like home..
…a lot like home…
The only thing was that I could never be 10 again…

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Excerpt: If you miss the train I'm on, You will know that I am gone. You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles, A hundred miles, two hundred miles, three hundred miles, four hundred miles, You can hear the whistle blow five hundred miles.

(from "Five Hundred Miles")

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Pastel Drawings