City of Stalkers

I want to talk about it - I was stalked. This proves once again why women are maniacs. She followed me all the way from HKU campus to King's Hotel where I play pool all the time with my friends. She stroke up several conversations with me but I was very annoyed. She kept bugging me. She was walking right behind me most of the time. I felt like I was a celebrity, if not a thief. I recalled the movie and the book by Ian McEwan caleld Enduring Love. People stalk you and keep appearing in your life and claim that they know you even if you don't. Later, you start to doubt yourself. Your identity is shaken. Who you are and who you know is not decided by your memory and conscious. It's defined by others, the Other.

What kind of people would stalk people like that? I don't think I need to emphasize that they are, first of all, nuts - fucking lunatics! But what concern me here is what triggers the thought of stalking a particular person such ambitiously. It's all about the eyes and the gaze. We see a person and fall in love with him/her at the first sight. The gaze is made romantic by them even the sparks are absent. The first sight serves as a drive for a second one, a third, and so on. So they stalk you. I am a sexist, I proudly admit. I have just known and encountered too many women who are schizophrenic.

在王子酒店巧遇梁漢文! So happy! I hope I can find someone like him, so my type of guy!

Anyway, today didn't pass as badly as I thought. My phone did not ring for too many times. It doesn't matter. It did not ring much when I was dating either. I played pool twice today. Crazy Friday! And I am glad that my mom was there to watch me for a bit and then at night my dad was there too. It's the first time I played with him. It seems that it could be a potential activity that we do together, bridging the generation gap!

Saturday.... another day that I am supposed to be out. I think I will stay home and read and study. Originally I have two tickets for a Japanese horror in Langham Palace at 1130pm. Now I think I may give up the tickets. It's kind of stupid to go to Kowloon to see a movie for only one hour. If there were two of us, the case and feeling would be different. Now, things changed and so did my feelings.

I don't know why I fucked up this time, again and again. Am I the one to blame? I just demand a little more action in calling me and this still can't be done. I really don't understand the logic behind. What am I? You tried so hard to get me and then put me aside. What am I? What am I? I think I know the way two people can maintain a relationship. It's just so not your way.

Just want to say 梁漢文 is not the type of guy who works in Cafe de Carol. He is cool in my eyes. So what?

I know nobody keeps updating my blog. If you happen to be one of the few people who do so and you happen to be a fond and keen reader, I should recommend you a book written by Umberto Eco called How to Travel with a Salmon. It is a collection of easy to read essays. They are extremely funny and mean. Nothing challenging. You can simply flip over those you are not interested. No harm at all. But the sarcasm and cynicism makes me feel that I am reading the personal encounters of Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye.

My favourite essays include: "How to Use the Taxi Driver", "How Not to Talk about Soccer", "How to spend time" and of course the titled essay "How to Travel with a Salmon".

If you go for meanness, read it and it makes you feel good.

Match Point and Cheating

Woody Allen's new Match Point is my starting film in this year's Hong Kong International Film Festival. Yeah. He has finally made a come-back. Since The Curse of the Jade Scorpio (I don't even remember the exact title!), I feel that he has trapped himself in a tiny nut shell of comedy and black humour. Nobody can really laugh with the lines. The films in the end are thought to be silly and pointless. Woody Allen can't be pointless! A genius can't be pointless!

Match Point is about cheating in love. I have never cheated, in exams. I am sort of proud of it. When I was teaching in St Joseph's, I saw students cheat but I did not really make a big fuss out of it. I usually signalled the cheaters that I noticed their wrongdoing, and usually they would stop. Yet, I remember once, a student went too far. I simply jotted down his name and maybe he received a penalty mark reduction. I didn't really give a shit. I did my job, he should have paid for what he did.

Yet, I cheated in love, and still do, perhaps. I ask myself: why can't I stick to one person? I can and believe me, I did. But growing up, I start to realise the difference between love and lust, love and sex, love and like. I don't love people in the way I did anymore. I gave my full self to them. I was romantic. I was passionate, and I was devoted. There's a fixed amount of energy in one's heart. So long as you have used it all up, then you become indifferent. It's just a problem of sooner or later. I used it all up many years ago. I stick to a person because of... stability? security? I guess I do so to avoid being single. Honestly, I like being in love. I enjoy this kind of lifestyle. So I move from one person to another and I receive a bad name. Bad names are everywhere. I can't care too much. Of course, I admit there are times I fucked things up. I regret, but nobody knows and I have my lessons.

People cheat because of lust. The sexual drive is too hard to suppress. There's a thing called self-control. Why do we control ourselves from what excite and motivate us? The society has many rules, which are invented by the white middle-class heterosexuals. I obey some of them and violate the rest. If we control ourselves from doing what we want, what kind of life and whose life are we living? No one can guarantee our days will turn better when we obey those rules. Fates are just organic. They evolve on their own. They don't need any rules to show the way out. Most of us let our dicks think too much.

Woody Allen once said: "The brain is a man's second favorite organ." I guess this explains why we all cheat.

We cheat because we all love ourselves most. Admit it. I do.

CYCLE

I am in a cycle
What is the cycle?
I am the cycle.
What kind of cycle is it?
It's me, myself.
How do you know it?
I don't know. I just be myself.
Is it really a cycle?
I guess so. I repeat everything I did.
I am doing it, and will be so some time later.
Again?
Again.
How do you get out of it?
I won't. It's me.
Who are you then?
I told you, I am the cycle.
What do you do in the cycle?
Love, love, love.
Only this?
And dance, dance, dance.
That's all?
Yes.
Do you like the cycle?
No.
Why are you the cycle then?
I have no choice.
The cycle comes to you?
We come to each other.
When did the cycle appear?
When I was 19.
When did you start being yourself?
Also when I was 19.
Do you want to get out of it?
I don't know.
I want to,
but I will lose my self if I do.
Can they be separate?
No, not now.
What does the cycle look like?
It looks like me.
What’s the shape of the cycle?
It shapes like a cycle,
but with angles.
What do you shape like then?
I am shaped within the cycle.
By it, and merge to be it,
With curves.
Whose cycle is it?
Mine.
Does it annoy you?
Like I annoy myself.
Can you see it?
No. I live with it
and I live to be it.
One can't see what one lives to be.
It's a phase. A moment of time
in one's life.
How can you detect the cycle?
By living.

Difference

We hang out with people of sameness;
For those who are different from us,
We fall in love with them.
The difference is where the objet petit a lies.
When you get closer,
it's not there anymore.
Like ghosts, difference haunts us.
We need to overcome many sorts
of differences in our life.
We usually crash with one another.
We get hurt, but we survive.
The worst kind of death is being lost.
No where to go. Nothing you can do.
We end up loving ourselves most.

Another argument, another clash, another sentence, another hesitation.
Another person, another situation, another pattern, another feeling.
Another thinking, another logic, another chance, another hope.
Another emotion, another happiness, another freedom, another warmth.
Another presents, another memory, another nickname, another sweetness.
Another fragrance, another smile, another height, another weight.
Another face, another name, another address, another mobile.
Another lover, another victim, another winner, the same result.