On the way home from dinner, the radio was playing Kylie's 'Love at First Sight'. Lynnie and I started talking:
Lynnie: I love Kylie! Harvard: Uhuh. (Everything went from wrong to right...) Lynnie: My cousins got tickets to her concert. They actually gave away one! But it's ok. They didn't know I was a Kylie fan.. Harvard: Wait, didn't she suffer from breast cancer? Lynnie: Yea, but she recovered. (jerks her head in a 'unn unn sugar' kinda way. Ya know, like Beyonce from Goldmember?) Harvard: I know, I know. But she's been out of the circle for a year, right? What's she going to sing with? Lynnie: Two breasts.
And I started laughing. I meant what songs will Kylie be singing to since she hasn't had any new songs released for the last year. Just that she used a 'matter of fact' tone to reply my question. Maybe it was a 'you had to be there' kind of a moment.
No. They're golf balls. Held a golf club for the first time in 2 years. When I was struggling to make sure everyone around me wasn't hit by my shots, I realised how stupid it was. Not the game (I think Robin Williams established that long time ago), but the whole concept of driving range. So we need to have licenses and permits to posses guns and drive cars, but it's totally alright to hit tiny, hard balls with an iron stick. Any crazy guy could've aimed the balls towards real people instead of the open field. And I think some people would've died. Having said that, I guess the same thing applies to kitchen knives and Omar's flame throwing gun, which he uses to mold teeth. Really, it's not THAT difficult to kill someone.
Can't believe the Iron Chef won in overtime yesterday. I didn't watch it, but I could feel the pain when Parky messaged me. Ok, fine. You don't have to guess. It's Japanese curry. Just that, it's covered with a lot of shallots and toppings that you can't actually see the curry.
You know how the cooking instructions always say: Whisk the batter, so that the air would come out? I always thought it was bullshit. How can you make air come out just by fondling the mix with some wires attached to a stick? So I used the a spoon the other day. The pancakes did 'rise' more. I guess you can beat mother nature with some wires attached to a stick.
Was having lunch with Veron, my course mate. She asked if I know there's a rock star in our course. I thought she was joking and played along. Yea sure, uhuh, definitely. Then she kept going on about how his band is topping charts in Sri Lanka and he's always surrounded in Uni. What? It's actually true? I stopped eating. I thought it's just normal for a group of Sri Lankan's to hang around uni. So there you go. Kumkum is the rhythmic guitarist of the group Soul Skinner, the hottest rock group ever existed in Colombo. At least that's what I'm told. And he's my course mate. This is bizarre. Some girls/guys are selling cracks to get tickets to see him in his concert next year. I just sat in the computer lab and gave him a nod this morning.
As usual, I was waiting for the elevator today. I'm always embarassed to take it with other people since they'll give me a stare most of the time after realising I live on the 3rd floor. So anyway, the elevator arrived. While I was giving way to the people coming out, my chest brushed against the door slightly.
And my left NIPPLE got shocked by static.
It's not funny. And I can never explain the sensation to you in words. It's like how you see other people throwing up as funny until you yourself have your head in the toilet bowl. It's like an unknown voice saying: who's laughing now, bitch?
Things that made us went tee hee and HAHAHA: Wait, what's this? Who're you? Charlene typing here while her elbow rests on Harvard's back oh the eroticism of flirting touch which dissipates ephemerally into the air. Sorry, was interrupted by an abrupt guest. Ahem, where was I? Yes, me and Parky's 'tee hee's and 'HAHA's: 16 May 1973, films topping Hollyword box-office: Deep Thrust - The Hand of Death and Five Fingers of Death. If that's not porno enough, later America saw the release of Deadly China Doll, Fists of the Double K, and Seven Blows of the Dragon. Ok, out of the context of porno movie titles, there was also The One-Armed Boxer vs. the Flying Guillotine. Why do Chinese flicks' names have to be so... literal and explicit? It sounds so... vulgar and less appealing. Imagine Hollywood doing the same thing:
Big Ship Sinks - Titanic The Retard - Forrest Gump The Retarded Brother - Rainman Battle of Colourful Swords - Starwars What The Fuck? - The Matrix Big Flying Rock - Armageddon Little Boy Who Couldn't Get Over His Parents' Dead & Became A Crazy Clown With Wings - Batman Begins Freaks! - X-Men Shooting Man - 007 Snakes on a plane - Snakes on a plane
And the list goes on. Which brings me to a point: Have you seen a movie which the title has absolutely NOTHING to do with the movie? Drop me a comment on that.
When I read Hot Cake, I thought it might be a type of aphrodesiac.
Parky: Hey, your pancakes look different from the box. Harvard: Oh, they're bigger? Parky: ........ Harvard: Thinner? Parky: ........
Fine, it's because I wasn't sure of the instructions. I'm weak in Japanese grammar, so I wasn't sure if it meant milk AND water, milk OR water, or milk WITH water. That has nothing to do with it being burnt you say? Well, Shut up! That was only the first one anyway. The others were alright. Parky and I finished them all anyway.
Iron Chef was awesome yesterday. For the first time the iron chef didn't win. Neither did the challenger: It was a tie. After points calculation, it was still a tie. So it's going to be a half an hour over time next week. Hopefully SBS won't screw that up since the show was made in 1995. The main ingredient: Sweet Potatoes. toes. toes. (echo) As always the judges didn't disappoint. The young actress out of the four made only one comment: It.. it is so soft~
Also, escalators in Hong Kong are really fast. Probably faster than my running pace. Ok, poor comparison. Upon returning from Safeway I took the escalator in Lygon Court. That's when I thought of the ones in HK. Anyway, I saw this girl wearing a really low cut jeans. (Hey, the escalator was REALLY slow okay?) I don't know about you. Although I've been living in this sexually overcharged country for 4 years, I'm still pretty, not open. For example, when I see an ass crack, I really feel like shouting: ASS CRAAAAAAACK! ASS CRACCCKK!! I felt like going up to the girl and ask her if I could swipe my debit card through the crack and have some cash out. But of course, reality got to me and I walked into Borders instead. One day, I'll do that. One day.
I'm not sure if you have it else where. In RMIT, they give out survey forms prior to the end of semester, asking for the students' opinions to 'improve' the programs. What's the point, really? It's like saying 'hey, we know we fucked up, give us some suggestion anyway. We can improve, but not for you. Sorry.' So in the end they're going to feed all the surveys in a giant computer and it will tell them if it's a good program or not. Survey is the worst way of research, because, how can you be sure that people will answer the questions honestly? I didn't. I never had the heart to agree or disagree strongly with any of the questions. I just choose 'I don't know'. And do you think they will really take my comment 'Get MORE beautiful lecturers to teach' seriously? Then why bother?
I just remembered something that I told myself to remember to blog:
Never look at the watch while you're on a 10 hour flight. It's like attempting to look down while you're walking on a tight rope 50 metres above ground wearing tight shorts. " Don't look down, Joe, keep walking Joe, Don't look - ARRGH! It's only been 4 hours? I'm stuck here for another 6?? Aaaaargh - "
And I realised there were no pretty girls in Hong Kong. I don't know, maybe I've been staying at the ugly side of the island. It was pretty depressing.
Also, I'd need get used to 2nd hand smoke. Everyone in my team smokes except for me and this other guy. The Thai creative director: What's wrong with young people nowadays? They don't smoke anymore. Eventually I'll get lured to the dark side, I hope not. The dilemma: to kill myself, or to to kill others?
Moe's came and gone. In fact, it was so swift that if her friend Eriko didn't leave behind her delicious Panasonic Lumix digital camera with optic stabiliser, there'd be no proof that she was here at all. All we've done for the past 2 days was eat, eat, rest, and eat. I guess that was the whole point of Moe visiting Melbourne. It was short, but nice really. I haven't got the time to feel nostalgic, then content, then sad. I'm still at the nostalgic part. Except of course, when I see Eriko's camera. It's proof that they've came. And gone.
This is the 3rd and final picture in my camera. I switched on the TV one morning, and this was showing on the NHK station. Having realised that it's only an exercise program and their spendex will not be taken off, I lost interest. Yet I still left the TV on for 3 minutes. Ok, fine, 15. Notice the sitting girl? The only explanation I can think of is that the program is user friendly towards disabled people. What if some one lost their arms then? It's for people in the office, maybe? But then who watches TV in the office? Hmm. Housewives ironing their clothes? I give up.
Things that made me said: Shit. I left for the agency at 10am and returned at 8.48pm. Was dragged to a meeting with a bunch of executives to pitch an ad for some telecommunication company. I mounted the print ads. To be precise, I trimmed them so that it could be spray glued, then mounted. The creative director asked me to do some quick sketch for a 5 second 'tag 'on' for some shampoo commercial. My contract is nowhere to be seen. I am definitely sure I'm hired(?) for my English speaking skill. I'm expected to return tomorrow. Phrase of the day from the director: In average you need to make one to two thousand rubbish to produce an award winning ad. HK is infected by Croc shoes as well. North Korea has gone nuclear.
Nevertheless, the good bits: The creative director paid for my lunch aka curry chicken on rice with milk tea. They paid for the taxi trip as well. Got to see the yet to be released mobile phones during the meeting. Plus the directors thought I was someone important since I did jack shit and sat there smiling. Question of the day from a copywriter: So where do you buy porn in university? Which I replied 'we use the internet'. Had really good dessert near Tin Hao Station. Thanks Linda. ( It's called Jing Jing. Approx. 7 minutes walk.) Bought curry fishballs beside the road, which came on a stick and finishing them while I walked to the traffic lights. HK traffic light buttons are touch sensitive. Most of the Croc shoes are florescent green in colour. North Korea has gone nuclear.
After an unbearable pain in the ass with Qantas, I landed safely in HK. Took me an hour to get to my hotel, and another to get to LB. I walked out of the lift, asked for the receptionist, half expecting the creative director to give me a 'real' interview. Instead, they showed me my table. Suddenly, Melbourne zoomed out really fast in my mind. I don't think I can get out of here anymore. The doubt my parents told me to keep in mind? Like, I do not actually have to sign the contract if I don't want to? I don't think I have a choice. Fear not, they didn't actually made me work. I just sat there and ... felt the table while the CD briefed me about tomorrow. So I AM going to meet the clients. Somehow, I think I'm a puppet to show that the agency could speaken English. My team seems pretty nice. The guys next to me actually work for the Whisper tampon/pad account. They took me out for lunch. For the first time of my life, I had a typical HK lunch. Salty fish and tofu chicken with rice. $2 extra for milk tea. MILK TEA! I bought a camera lens from Central. I stopped over at Causeway Bay and nearly got a heart attack because of the crowd. The tall buildings scare me. Reminds me of the tiny human batteris in The Matrix. It's pretty depressing. I think my dream will be in Cantonese tonight. I hope it will have yellow subtitles too. Fingers crossed.
Parky finished his thesis today. Came back and blasted his stereo(or something the equivalent of) with his symphony of celebration. That was after I had a look at his 12,000 words binded copy of historical symbols of what might seemed like a book. It is about how America and Britain perceived Chinese immigrants after the 1911 revolution through newspaper reports. I tried to read through the introductory chapter. I found it extremely boring. Hence he must be getting a H1. Congratulations. I guess it's not a good time to bring up the 2 essays he needs to finish in 3 week's time?
For the past 2 years I was mentally prepared to stay in Melbourne after graduation, but everytime I approach this permanent residency thing, I feel disgusted of the immigration system, of the documentation, of the rules that change every 3 weeks. I loathe every moment whenever there's a gathering of 'soon to be graduating' friends, all they'll ever talk about are points, points, relationships, and points, about the fact that they want to stay in Australia just because they don't want to go home, not because they like the country. You can smell fear, and desperation. In Chris Rock's words, it's like asking the uncle that molested you during high school to pay your tuition fees. The night I decided to screw Australian PR and accept the job in HK, I felt fucking terrified, yet liberated as well.
Most people are questioning my enthusiasm towards going to HK. Yes, I'm excited, but other doors are being shut as well. Gone are all the maybe's, the perhap's, the what if's, the wouldn't it be nice. The dreams of being a photographer, director, painter, and an English speaking mayor, vanished like a magician's bunny. In a few months time, I'll be officially an ad man. That's what I hate about being a Chinese: I keep thinking about the lost. About the closed doors, about the thing I'll be missing. White people will just be pissing positive juices on themselves charging towards what they want and not looking back. That, I need to learn.
A ballroom, reasonably spacious, dimly lit, with a big crowd. It appears that an activity, perhaps a ball room dancing session has conlcluded. A man, the protagonist if this were an actual movie script, walks up to a girl.
Hi! Long time no see! Haven't we met at Joseph's birthday party before?
Erm, you know, Joseph from Uranus Apartments?
Anyway, my name is Kelly.
Realising the girl thought he was trying to hit on her with the lamest pick up line ever, guy said his name and left.
(This happened like a year ago, but hey come on, I really thought I met her at a birthday party before ok?)
This must be my 5th time watching 'In the mood for love'. There wasn't any shock of it being part of my Asian Cinema screening. Somehow this movie portrayed 'broken relationship' in such a cool and beautiful way that it screwed me up badly. Perhaps being a broken man before like Tony Leung in the movie, I've been waiting for another broken woman like Maggie Cheung. Maybe that explains all the 'Harvard how come you have so many girl friends, but no girlfriend lehhhh?' Or 'Harvard, why you always attract attached girls one horrrr?' I haven't found my broken girl, that's why. Maybe instead of a 'Omygawd we are so meant for each other' kind of girl, I prefer the 'I like you but nothing will happen coz this is not right' kind of girl. Sick, I know. Having realised my previous girlfriend was, indeed attached while we got together, it dawned upon me that Wong Kar-Wai is a fucker. He fucking ruined my life.
I don't deny I tend to expect more from Wong Kar Wai, Tarantino, David Fincher or even Koko Mitani before I watch their movies. Truth is, we judge a movie before we watch it. Through the trailers and posters, we 've already made up our minds whether it is a good movie or not. So when there's a documentary about global warming by the then-future president of United States, you kinda pay attention. Well, I saw the trailer first. And frankly, what interested me was to see how Al Gore present the whole damn thing. In fact, I urge all of you to watch it for the presentation skill. How he just presented facts after statistics and charts, how he got Matt Groening to make a short clip, how he woo you with breathtaking yet sad pictures of global disasters. There's no propaganda (maybe some bitter aftertaste of his failed election), even if there is one, it was to propagate mother earth. And you can never argue with that. Fuck it even if it is a political tool. Fuck it even if it's all documented from HIS point of view. You can't say 'I hate Gore, so I'm gonna go against him and burn more trees.' I believe in his 'story' if you want to call it that way, like I said, I've been sold before I walked into the cinema, which sadly consisted of only 3 people, including me. So I guess I'm doing the least I can do: bit torrent it, get the pirated DVD if you want, just watch it.
p/s: It was interesting to see how the audience squirm in their seats when Al said that Australia, being the other developed nation other than the U.S., has NOT ratified the Kyoto Protocol.