i think i don't like the over-beautiful, the outstandingly gorgeous ones.. everybody is attracted to them like flies to a piece of shit -- in the end they attune their bodies and their actions to be sensitive to all this attention they receive

but the ones with the faces you can't distinguish, who blend into the beige wallpaper involuntarily, who spend their lives passing through the eyeballs of the most 'discerning' -- they are free to do whatever they want, and only always hear their own voice

if you want a reflection of society, look at the people it loves
if you want a criticism of it, look at the people it loathes

1969: man lands on the moon 

2012: Mars Curiosity lands on The Red Planet

if there was one specialty i've been truly and genuinely interested/in awe of, i think it would have to be astronomy. there's just an undeniable relationship between astronomy and that stupid question: who am i? what does my life mean? to me the idea of astronomy is so intricately linked to so many things that are important to me: religion, sense of purpose, sense of identity 

everybody knows that God has created a universe that is so vast we cannot even begin to comprehend 

to me astronomy is one step closer to understanding, getting a grasp 

on what God has created and who God is 

i've never really dismissed the idea of life on other planet

i find it extremely plausible given such little we know about our galaxy, even less so the universe(s) 

i think one of the things i love and hate about life is attempting to wrap my head around how huge everything is. how insignificant i am but more so how enormous everything else is. i find the idea of a planet suspended in mid-air (super layman speak) preposterous and yet it's the core of my being. i find the speed of light ridiculous and yet it governs how we live every single day. 

i find the enormity of everything in astronomy so damn farfetched and incomprehensible 

but that it is real 

makes the moments when i stop to think about these things feel as if 

my life is not real 

dream-like 

almost like i'm suspended in mystique as much as the earth rotates on its own 

like we are merely a figment of God's imagination 

i'm not sure why but this week has been filled with a lot of astronomy, most prominently, the knowledge that given how far away stars are from us, it would take thousands of years for light to travel from the star to earth i.e. it would take thousands of years for this light to enter our camera lenses and our eyeballs that would enable us to see the star, by which time the star might be dead, collapsed 

this afternoon i told Gus, if someone lived on a planet thousands, millions of lightyears away and established vision of Earth right now, he/she/it would see us eating in this restaurant, my club sandwich and your nasi goreng, talking, being cold because of the air-con, talking about this. 

by then he & i would be ashes returned to the ground, into soil that may not exist any longer. we would be dead. but an image of us may live on somewhere else in this universe. how beautiful is that? 

the in between happiness & sadness does not exist from siyichen on 8tracks.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) directed by Michel Gondry

     

      

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot?
The world forgetting and the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned
-- Alexander Pope

this movie is so famous there's hardly any need to get into it. i can't believe i've taken so long to watch it, but it was beautiful in more ways than one. i thought jim carrey was so great, i couldn't believe it was him. i think this film easily weaseled its way into my favourites list, and i admit i felt my hearts open the door for it.

the only thing i wanted to note was why i think i might have felt so strongly about it. i didn't know this film was about forgetting the people who have hurt you or made you feel like shit. not so long ago i had this thought. what if i never ever knew anybody in my life who matters to me. what if i had grown up all alone. sure, i'd be lonely as hell, but i would never know loss. i would never know what it was like to be hurt. i would never have to cry over somebody and feel that ache that only comes with losing a part of you.

what if i had never known Gus?

right now i'd say that is such bullshit, of course i want to know him. that's unconditional. i'm super duper happy that he's in my life. but if the time comes where simply looking at him makes me choke on my own tears -- how lovely it would be to wake up one morning and not know who he was at all.

the film concludes that attempting to forget bad memories goes hand in hand with forgetting the good. trying to lose all the hurt means losing everything beautiful that ever existed together with that memory. and that it basically isn't worth it. yes, it hurts, but there is a sacred ebb of light that thrives on a love that once was wholesome and untainted that should not be touched.

a coward would erase everything and choose not to remember anything at all
but a real man chooses to see that the beauty in loss is that you even had it in the first place

that is something i'm trying to learn
but it makes me cry

Jiro Dreams of Sushi (2011) - directed by David Gelb











i loved this documentary. it reminded of the vast difference between the privileges we (as a collective youth) receive nowadays, unasked for, and that of those born more than half a century before us. it is astounding the kind of individuals the difference has shaped.

 it is more than just a film about sushi -- it is about the work ethic of an 85 year old japanese man, while hardened by childhood hardships, has maintained an outlook on life and on his work that i can only describe as wise aloofness. when he visits his parents tombstones in the cemetery, he says with a genuine laugh: 'i don't know why i come here. they never took care of me.' he exudes a self-dependency even at 85, a quality ripened through years of striving.

his work is essentially his life. for 75 years he has done the same job, and it is surprising -- the monotony of it is an appeal to him. everyday he does the same thing but constantly strives to improve his 'craft', that of improving the taken-for-granted sushi. his passion and self-discipline is passed on to his two younger sons, who, in true asian fashion, have similarly become respected and notable sushi chefs.

but beyond that, there is a touching, almost sad family dynamic that surfaces. a father eager to leave his legacy in the living hands of his sons, two sons burdened with the fame and skill of their father's shadow, but a beautiful, moving understanding between the three that there is something bigger at hand than themselves. as asians we are taught never to complain, to listen to your elders, obey your parents. on one hand that can be seen as passivity, lack of backbone, weakness. but in the documentary, it is done not out of fear, or social protocol, but out of love, a fierceness to protect, an understanding of a legacy, such that the self becomes unimportant. the family becomes everything. i think the most grand touch is that in a family of three grown men, this dynamic is subtle, not apparent. in a way you end the film knowing all this without any of it having ever really explained itself.

his son, yoshikazu, ends the documentary with these words:

Always look ahead and above yourself... that's what he taught me. 

in this day and age where the self has become the primary unit of attention, i me mine, all the time, i loved this documentary for its reminder that there are bigger things than making yourself happy. i think that is what i am beginning to realize. happiness comes later, naturally

in the moment i don't realize but
when my fingers tremble and my heart pounds
furiously in defiance of perceived injustice
when the little things become mountains
and the reality becomes molehills
when the tears drip and i feel
the edges of my mouth pull downwards as if by gravity
when my body snaps into a fetal position
the way you'd snap a glowstick to release light
(similarly i shut my eyes and all the light leaves)
and there's almost a ferocity in the way my fists form
a pulsing in my muscles and in my blood
to turn this anger and hurt into physical pain
that i can punch out of my body immediately

in the moment i don't realize but
when that happens, the way
your voice softens like the beginning of a sonata
the way your arms pull me in tight
the way you say, 'i'm sorry, i'm sorry'
even though you've done nothing wrong
the way you kiss my forehead
again and again and again
tell me it's alright
tell me there's nothing wrong
tell me i'm going to be okay

in the moment i don't realize but
in retrospect
i now realize that's
almost true

books i bought at books actually's 30% sale: 

the promise bird by zhang yueran
the outsider by albert camus
strangers by taichi yamada
lights out in wonderland by dbc pierce

wanted to also buy but had no money: 


the passion by jeanette winterson
the waves by virginia woolf
why be happy when you can be normal by jeanette winterson

am currently reading:

cat's cradle by kurt vonnegut

recently finished: 

the age of miracles by karen thompson walker
labyrinths by jorge luis borges

unable to finish:

the collected stories by amy hempel (given up)
the total devotion machine and other stories by rosaleen love (slowly but surely perhaps)

bought as a present (to annie, gus's sister): 

a heartbreaking work of staggering genius by dave egger