came along wasted and other objects

the unbearable lightness of being, even cats could feel it. 'life,' she says, 'when would it get bigger than a bowl of cat food?'



intimacy, into your hair, along your skin, interupts your senses.
what can i offer you?

when I'm at work, I know so clearly what I can give and what I deserve, my 'market value' that gives me my place in the profession. When I'm with my friends, I know what I should give and I'll give it all, my care my humour and my thoughts. but to a relationship, I really don't know. ask for everything, ask for nothing, if it's just warmth you need, you should discard me when daylight strikes the window. if it's sense and sensibility, I'm your horn of plenty, you should take but you find it awkward.

maybe i'm just shy and empty. I do not want to talk because of silence. Silence is calm and you start to listen only when silence is. why do we have to fill the gaps? they are beautiful that way. do you not agree? no you didn't.

cannot wait to see you again, we'll get pissed, we'll bump into a lightpole, sing into the night, where is your bag? come dance with me, hold my hands. Adrian. i'll see you again.

sidetrack, here's a very very very beautiful man,


music review: Apologies to Queen Mary_ WOLF PARADE


it's not easy to find songs with beautiful lyrics. either they are cliches about boys and girls, shaking ass and penises too small; or pseudo- saviour lyrics talking about saving the world and all the unfairness, so pretentious you start wondering what they'd do with the money they earn. Wolf Parade is different, well composed lyrics within a span of 12 distinctive songs. The album doesn't seem to come together neatly, as each song seem so individual and alien from the rest, which makes the whole album full of surprises. Song about hatred towards modern world, love of radio, the town, ghost from trees leading to a new world, it's errie, thoughtful and downright exciting. Music and mixing are a bit conventional, but the bassline does give out surprises once in a while. buy it.

give me a reason

just however disgusting I find myself, someone would think me worse. and yes they do, I do not blame them. I am fascinated by my own ugliness, I amplify it, exaggerate it, and it's just obviously there, no matter how secretive I am. I could not find my anchor, I do try, deeper under the current, I hold on tight to that man who isn't there; I become the boy too proud of his achievements within the white brick walls too thin to hide secrets, cemented by lies and consumed by fantasies. And my language, the house I live in, my language.

in the swim, I lost my mind and a lot of oxygen, I betrayed my weightlessness so that I could be focus and quiet, I listen to the air flowing in bubbles through my nose, pass my ears and gone. I cannot stop loving him.



music review: horn of plenty_GRIZZLY BEAR

another headphone music for the sleepless. hide under the blanket, whisper through the dark, the intimate sounds of friction between your skin and the duvet, this is the music for you. Grizzly Bear creeps through the landscape to reach you in the dark, a kind of pscho-folk so tempted to discard, but once you allow it, it grows on you, lulls you to sleep, but keeps you in a nightmare. And do not say they sound like Animal Collective, that's imprecision at its worst. Buy it.

the orchid wound

my dear friend he came to the opening of LMU's architectural exhibition. He looked tired and exhausted, but he brought me a bouquet of orchids. he wrote, 'orchids grow in most adverse environment, they're delicate but strong.' i wish to be like orchids, i wish to be like cats. They're delicate but strong, they're curious and wayward, they have an edge. Just like Judas. In a fortnight, they started decaying, and the dark clouds roam the sky, engulfed the sun and all light together with happiness. At that exact moment, I sat in front of the computer, consumed by the area schedule for an unknown residential project.

The orchid she became my scar, an exhibit of my naivity and detachment to reality, to the ground. I put it near the window, so it takes up sunlight and oxygen, so it flourish and mark my devotion to be outside the box. not before long did it start to wither, and my skin was punctured with deep long cuts, blood oozing out from underneath the delicate flesh, swell like diabolic pearls congealed on my skin. I am punished for being independent and shy.



so I coiled like a featus at the corner of my bed too large for my body but too empty for my soul, and dug myself a grave with Kafka. Night after night, i started reading from midnight to dawn, and realised how tranquil solitude could be. I don't want to be verbal, I want to be secretive and hysterical. I want speak as if nobody would understand.

and then morning comes, breeze through the curtain and made it shiver. I pulled my body half metamorphisized into the white shirt and tight trouses, and put on the mask of a motivated, self- assured individual of society, a profession.



in my dreams, I saw an alien, he ate up my date. I pushed it out the glass door, and it turned into a hairy monster, stretching its myriad hair through the keyhole, gaps of the door. I brought scissors and cut them all. It ate my date just the way he bite my skin when we sleep, just the way he suffocated me with his charm, jas the way he drowned me with his self obsessed ego. 'I can't help loving you because I think you are as handsome as I am.' how disarming.

music review: Caetano Veloso_CAETANO VELOSO


I am, and i assume we all are, superficial. Human are more visual than anything else. we know it's going to shake our world just by the cover. Tropicano's pioneer Veloso started his anti govermental revolution with a good cocktail; brilliant latin numbers, delicate and layered composition, raw, unprecise, intuitive, and topped with piercing lyrics. I am never good in language, but the english translation of the lyrics are just as exciting as sex. It's easier to be angry and sad than happy, Veloso criticised his world with an optimistic twist, you feel good being a rebel. How's that? Buy it.

the man who don't give a fuck

i am 22. I've fallen in love only once.
all those beautiful boys, kings and queens and crimial queers. i fell in love with one. it was so euphoric, eventful, and hard to ignore. the more I push it aside, the deeper it dug. i could consider myself lucky if this ever happens again.



Jonathan took this picture of me knackered in bed. people say your lips gets thicker with you sleep. I've always been extremely conscious about my lips. For whatever reason.

this entry was originally titled 'a reflection on the self', and I was just thinking of putting some beautiful pictures of fashionable boys, but the new title was exactly the answer i wanted. or i wished i could be.

started working as an architectural assistant for this big firm in London, HAMILTONS ARCHITECTS, obviously I'm a cast away because of my lack of 'professional knowledge', i.e. the size of the disabled toilets, the planning regulations for plantations, building frontage recess standards, etc. So I decided to shut my brain, and allow the hours to rush me by, as long as I'm paid and can use the money to do what I want. fair enough. I wonder, after all these years of sleepless nights and all these highs and lows, are good-sized toilets all I deserve?

I have a deficiency. I cannot connect with other people, they find me awkward, cold and indifferent. I think i could be a real passionate about things that matters, i'm very naive and straight forward, and I have a lot of bad jokes in my pocket. it just didn't work out.

the clouds are drifting swiftly in the sky, dragging the rain from zone to zone, through the ocean, right to your house. It knocks at your window, carrys the message from me, the boy too shy to speak up, playing with the rim of his glass. do you know, his longing floods the amazons? it was on the news.

if i sincerely ask myself, this is one of the reasons why I am here in London. I thought I've found out everything about home. I've found out most things that interested me about Hong Kong. How ignorant and arrogant I was.

if i sincerely ask myself, I'm just like everyone, I lust for beauty, I take the easy way out, I have cavity. it doesn't deny me as this shell of a good boy minding his own business. But I am faking if I dare imagine myself under limelight every split second. they look through me just as eager as I want them to look at me. The more you kick in, the harder the reaction attacks. fair enough.

remember, speaking english doesn't mean you are selling your soul to the devil, your origin and home, where you dropped your anchor. the effort.


music review: Strengir Hrynja_ TRAJECT


it's polished granite, drizzles on thin ice, deep caves of Scotish highlands, mist over Hudsons. Dark and divine electronics from Icelander Gisli Thor Gudmundsson, aka traject. he draws a back holes, and you decisively give yourself in in the deepest of night. Within, all colours in silhuettes, you saw orchids growing out of snow, but you feel warm, embraced. It's not industrial clashes that leaves you vulnerable, but tickles that clings to your skin and embraces you, surround you with distance and space that talks, resonate, and flows. Buy it.

drizzling july

the shittiest job in the world. being a profession. giggling about nonesense. all too bored. we count the area, name the toilets, be proud we have the tiles in the right sizes. thank god, how many years of studies, how much money poured in. work in a large firm, learn a bit of BS. I should be grateful, i'm attempting to be a professional. just for summer. it was canceled, it's cold, with occasional drizzles and hailstorms. i'm imprisoned for this summer. Casten should be glad, he should be really happy. But he'll never convert me. never.