Love is a little bit vice, it wants you selling yourself but with happiness. It's the libra between ethic and evil, with virtue and fault. When you fall in love just like sitting on the seesaw. Like is similar sands. It's like the dense feeling that you hold in hands but lost it gradually; it always lacks of barycenter in the reality, such as you are fascinated something.
I love walking. I like riding. I love the paper smelling. I like the ground. I love books and magazines. I like writing. I love gobbling up. I like touching the surface of basketball. I love Pantone formula guide. I like my mobilephone revealing the message. I love suede. I like colour pencils and the stamp of ink. I love music. I like stationery. I love the sun blinking his eyes to me through the curtains in Sunday morning after I played outside whole night. I like oversleeping. I love drinking pulp juice. I like cutting my nails. I love to travel without planning. I like lights. I love the classics which I believe. I like maps. I love YES. I like Bauhaus. I love shaving. I like sunglasses. I love unwittingly. I like reading the book while I go to the poo before shower. I love obsreving. I like surking. I love picking the flyers. I like blankets. I love doting my love. I like reading erotic novels. I love french kiss. I like sitting on the first line of double seat beside the wall on th bus. I love my family squabbling joyfully. I like stepping on the stairs. I love watching NBA. I like getting on the net. I love listening music with big earphone. I like the notebook blank white. I love the fresh room after turning on the dryer whole day long. I like pretending seriousness. I love printing. I like watching the trailers and movie worked lists. I love the heat full of my body when i am conscious of that I am creating something amazing. I like slipping out of my works. I love MTV channel on Saturday 3 am. I like cactus. I love boiled spicy sausages and ribs. I like soft erasers. I love the sight of puppy. I like the moment of candy multing in my mouth. I love sweating and taking the rest on the ballcourt while it dry by the winds blow. I like lining down at the afternoons. I love going to the school. I like left-hander. I love I got money full of pockets but have no desire to spend it. I like post stamps. I love the sex in the morning. I like going to the supermarket, bookstore and recordstore shopping. I love the pillow, quilt and bed fluffy. I like my coffee adding sugar and no cream. I love concentrating. I like singing the songs, handing the album and listening the music at meanwhile. I love shoes. I like spying the nicknames on the MSN. I love Apple. I like making the notelet on my notebook. I love the glasses of water cup. I like aligning. I love the way my parents look I gobbling. I like the club with bar. I love lurking amorous. I like checking the dictinary. I love simply only. I like indulging.
We can own plenty of likes. Like can be adjusted but we won't be able to know its correction or not. Love is so private. Love can be merely sacrificed, and let it controls yourself physically and mentally. If love occurs to me in the last minute, I wish the like is ought to practice invisibility.
I was fucked up, yet I could be able to be nowhere. To stick in this country, this town, this room and this body. It's really long time that I haven't been like this situation, or I may never be like this before. And the worst part is not just for the present which is the memory to stay in the basement of my mind, and I open it that I recognize all the imagination I created like a mirage. Then I find It that's invisible and may never exist in the reality; or I assume to live in the Laputa that causes I feel flowing in the air, no gravity, and no reason to be seen.
If I could say something without using the words, I would prefer to sing the song. The song has to be sung front of people that indicates I can stand on the road aboveboard. No ambagious, no ambiguous; not complicated, not conflicted. It has only the melody with rhythm, like Keith Jarrett playing the piano or I can brief it's the heart of transmittance; bright and clear, pure and peace.
How can I distinguish the cannal of the chemistry? Where should I go toward in the correct stop? What is the final distination of mystric relation? Who will be the absolute dependence in my limited few decades? People come and go, I stay and walk; one day it's going to appear in the end, but it's not the time to reveal in the neutral.
Life is difficult. More than that is to live like a ghost. A living ghost. A non-sense living ghost is meaningless to be around at the crowding floor. If you can realize what I tell of these trash talks that means you are pretty much the same foolish as myself.
We dance boogie-woogie, we love monkey funky; we play sticky tricky, we find nippy chilly. We do lazy crazy, we are muzzydozy; we feel dizzy sleepy, we dream fuzzy hazy.
"The "Sam" looks exactly as "same" as common people; "same" faces "same" bodies, "same" hands "same" feet. The "Sam" has always only one thought, and the thought is always as "same" as ordinary man. The "Sam" speaks just as "same" as the way you talked, very fast and super slow, would be stumblingly and could be fluently. The "Sam" is also as "same" as myself. We eat the meals with air at the "same" time, so our stomaches usually feels uncomforable, or we swollow the foods without chewing, then go to toilet couple times in one moment. The "Sam" is certainly as "same" as him, walking slowly, falls down even the road has no hole, moreover he likes to pretend belonging the family of long leg and is constrained to climb the floor by merely two or three steps.
The "Sam's" hair is not long and not short, the "Sam's" skin is not dark and not blank. The "Sam's" room is not huge and not tiny, the "Sam's" clothes are not bare and not plenty. The "Sam" has works, the "Sam" has holidays; the "Sam" had sex, the "Sam" had dreams. The "Sam" cries, the "Sam" smiles; the "Sam" is anxious, the "Sam" is irascible. All of those aspects in his life are as "same" as common lives which have no different with normal human. The margin and the frequency of his life are all the "same"; the "Sam" has never done anything which is difference. The "Sam" just likes to be exactly as "same" as common man. The "Sam" cares about the difference, he is afraid to be not the "same" as common people. The "Sam" wants to alive, the "Sam" wants to die. The "Sam" likes to killing, the "Sam" likes to hybridizing; the "Sam" likes stoned, the "Sam" likes drunk. The "Sam" loves someone, and usually the one is as "same" as regular one. The "Sam" also betraies someone whom is as "same" as himself. The "Sam" does the "same" thing. The "Sam" doesn't dare to do the thing that is different. The "Sam's" world only allows the "same".
Let's talk something about memories. The memories flowing in our mind create certain shapes and patterns to appear in the reality which occurs at our suroundings whether it's truly existence or false appearence. People used to defraud themself. People are good in composed those visionary images to imitate as the beautiful woven gauze dancing in the air, like the fog, that causes the sight easily to be the blurred transparentcy.
The vancant gaps are the spaces that people to choose forgotten. We don't know what's the hole between each other, eventhough we innocently believe rest of the immense dimensions where have never been examined the reliability. Once of my friend asked me:
"Do you think without the memories that people is still to be human being?"
"Perhaps I should try to be."I answered.
"To be what?"
"to be not to be anything."
The conversation sounds like simulated Shakespeare saying, but somehow it appeals the complex substance. As well as the interpretation of practicality is so unpredictable, and the contained possibility is indeed low-pitch. I thought about the movie "enternal sunshine of the spotless mind", which showed the pictures that the impulse is the most significant factor to determine the pathway of recollction. When I fall in love with someone, I feel like marching in the maze whether I attempt to going out or not. Therefore, the choice of memory becomes the complicated diversification instead of the easily dualism.
"If we can't remember it all, we should at least have some idea of what we have forgotten." Clive James said so. However, if we have already forgotten something that are forgotten whether we would like it to be remembered or not; how can we ensure it is the certain memories that we want to recall, or in other words, to be lost?
Why am I crying so? I thought I am not so emotional anymore, but the tears still drop by to the cheek, unstoppable, til the coner of the mouth. Friends said I always constrain myself. I always give back a smile to them. I realize somehow people cannot be judged by a simple way, especially from a easy result.
I miss almost everything in my home town. However, I am also glad I can push this far away distance to look through whether my surroundings or myself. I wrote the letter to my brother. He is a tough guy, as same as all my family members no matter who is male or female. Last time I saw the tears droped from his eye that is more than fifteen years ago, and I understood I could never be the way of his crying by any sort of method.
Now I sit front the dining table of my Dutch home, the song in my iTune is frequentlyplaying with slight winds; and I am on the road which cannot return such as the time would not be switched back again. Independence day, Elliott Smith is singing the meanful lyrics with magnetic sounds.
Somehow I felt I could only write down all the vocabularies and phrases that I knew; with regard to those feelings and vibrations that is not my oral abilities to describe it.
I listen music all the times when I am doing any kind of activities. Trying to listen music until I have had the disgusting earwax. Sometimes when you are hearing one song like you see a word long long times; it transforms to other substance. Or like at another afternoon, you recognize youself is not your own ego. The face on the mirror looks like a strange thief stealing your unique body then you attempt to enter yourself by numerous methods but it fails.
The disaster is as same as you cannot identify with youself.
After the bath, the look of resurrection makes me want to stop the times at the moment forever. I would love to take the bath with you at the meantime if I could. Two naked bodies match up perfectly and precisely. Meanwhile it does not matter to feel about good or bad, yes or no, true or fake and beauty or ugly; the love is going to become the black hole, then at the same time the black hole has the meaning to exist. *Translative version from the used article.
J Please do not show up those minimal and sensitive clues which are behind the truth; if that were not perfect enough yet. Whereas it appeals at the end with awful result, then I can only disapear with nothing but myself.
I feel lonely. And the worst part is I communicate with myself via foreign language. Unfamiliar. Suddenly, I have no postion to look at this world. Perhaps I've never understood this world. I'm in the between for a long while, western and eastern, warm and cold, tender and cruel, childlish and mellow, autistic and sociable; with happiness and sadness.
Confuse. The verb. Nevertheless I can react is immediately moving my heart, with my spirit, by my soul. Body is useless, tongue is poorness. I wish I could be brilliant in the beginning, but I present my personality which can only be able to interpret by myself, yet I don't even appreciate myself. "Appreciate", what an ambiguous word.
I miss mom and dad. Especially my father; but the strangeness is I didn't even talk to my dad very often. At home, we talked just few words like " morning; have you had dinner?" Something like that. Such as me and my temporary Chinese landlord. Nothing but nod. However, I really desire to talk to my dad. I don't know, unreasonable.
Maybe at the bone in the blood I'm his son and he is my pa. Gene, DNA, descent; whatever we called, it's distiny, and next time I phone home I'll tell him "don't give the phone to mom, I want to talk to you for a long time, and we won't say so long."
第一天。週日。At Utrecht centraal station I saw couples homeless used the pipe just front the policeman's face; and youth hostel's female reception looks like Dodge Ball's female awful player；高壯，眉毛連成一線的粗濃。店家們休憩著；當然偶爾街上咖啡館內聞來“飯”味飄香。M當勞很貴；薯條鹽巴很少且沾索費的芥末美乃茲。炒麵鹹膩牛肉硬朗；果然老外唐食。Everybody looks chic, everybody looks free。路邊電話亭冒出的禿頂絡腮鬍男子不穿超人服襯洋裝，擦腳指甲油不著鞋，揀地上垃圾不飛天。無所事事地騎車閒晃險迷走。晚間，Strowis' lobby三四款膚色五六種語言傳著。燈火依舊閃爍，風雨片羽滴落。家室還在未知的遙遠邊緣盡處不定。這一夜。
被狠狠地戳刺了一下。也許是警告我的纖細該妥善收納；或說人生仍很長，世界還很大。但我的躍躍欲試沒有退縮，可能只是分野不同。突然，想要來杯酒，是Whisky single malt的握杯溫柔。在彙整的當下我深深覺得所謂藝術家就是強勢地present他們自我的位置；而設計師則是尋求對話。好或不好多少程度我都知道我目前設計上站的高度；不就是前面還有得跑的路程縱使我現在正喝口水歇杵著。在漸入佳境的搬家尾聲可以聽見夏天在午後正用它一向“浸入”式的感應來侵佔人的皮膚，讓身軀邊緩緩透著溼氣邊對心裡傾訴：“來了，這一循環又來臨了；被柏油掩蓋的土壤也可以發出歡唱，葉子的反光將成為夜裡蟬鳴的投射光束。鳴，停，吟，止；回回皆有不同巧合的曼妙，如同人的邂逅，也似偶然的光羽觸碰。”我總是對於時間敏感的計算，卻不知於盤算之際，其悠悠匆匆早已溜煙飛過。也許身為父母的大智慧經驗法則正被一波波的科技新規所削減，但我想不論何種時代物種，當它血脈的延續被外在因素動搖時，所對抗的力量都是相同程度無須比擬的。夜了，所有的生命跡象一切都是在檯面下進行；我由衷的希望和改變的關係能夠更加成長，更為奔放。
The unpredictable anxiety occurs in my mind for quite long period. I cannot wipe it whether I attempt to or not. I feel the alienation, yet I can only do nothing but wait it to pass away. In recent time, this sort of condition is more obvious when I hanged out with my friends. And the joyful is companied with the painful, happiness is belonged to faithless.
Although I can pretend that I do not care or nothing happen, but the emotion that I try to hide harder which reveals the contrast to be more clear. Every single day I am thinking about the appropriate position of my ego, but to brief who I am that is not as easy as a pie. Especially in the present of my living time, for my hundred years of contemporary of mine.
The isolation. The biggest possession of my own. The most valuable experience that I can go through to people. Today, I recognized I am a worm in the sealed pupa when I woke up in the morning, and the opening date is discouraged unknown day, or even the complete darkness night. The only possible method that I can break the hole which may be as freedom as my imagination whether I am going to become the moth or the butterfly. I watched the movie "control" in the cinema this noon again. In addition, I can still sense the determination of suicide in the gloomy scene. The dismal is behind in Ian Curtis' voice, and each piece of lyrics shows the depress. Perhaps Ian just sang before our generation to announce the dour mood of nowadays, and our confusion is our illusion indeed.
The loneliness is rising. As though I am near by the sun, which convinces me to be melted into it, or just leaves it far away; as the comet goes far far away.
"Good night." Your typing revealed on the flat screen. Yet I thought there was nothing could be able to compare with the glory morning, which I viewed after the next quarter-hour. With regard to listened the clicking audio on MSN messenger, I missed your voice and breathe front my face more and more. In addition, to compare with your sounds, I desired to see though your sight more often, which had the blurred reflection of mine shadow in the pupil of your eye. This kind of illusion made me wonder that we might born naturally to be one.
I walked myself on the empty street. There were couples kitty taking catnap on the wall when the orderly still slept in on the bed. I felt I am a King Penguin lost in the vast South Pole. It was not a frozen night but a bit chilled to the bone. Perhaps I deserved to like to jogging on the road in this night.
I forgot I have eaten the breakfast in the morning or not, which I bought in the shop and put on the dining table in my house. Although now I am lining on the bed, looking the ceiling, caressing the pillow and bedquilt, and imagining the fragrance and temperature that you had been left to; I am in complete ignorance that would you have sleepless wiggle instead of the memories between us or otherwise.
P.S. The upper balcony is the most closeness place to sunshine.
Design Cinema is an exhibition that will be held on November 2008 in Istanbul, Turkey. This discussible conference, themed as design-en-scène, is that they attempt to brief various of aesthetic theories between design and cinema. There are three categories under this issue that are real, hyper-real and virtual, which will be presented by different forms such as thesis, portfolio, proposal, application, performance(live or record), CD-Rom, DVD and so on.
Since we all know there are lots of media that we can apply to our artwork in the multi-function world nowadays. Thus, to combine variety aspects in one simple movie, or indicates viewers what object can classify the common sense of our system of communication, that will be able to the challenge of this meeting.
Sometimes, a coke can shows in a movie that is not just meaning of coca-cola. In addition, a piece of furniture or a frame of poster that is not a fortune to happen in the scene. It is the layout of motivated description. It is the finest design in director's mind. It is all about personal sense. It is a film director who wants to create social memories to the audiences throughout a kind of group, a type of tribe, a sort of race or a form of culture; no matter it is fabulous or atrocious. Furthermore, design is same as this occasion. When industrial designers or graphic designers who design their artwork, they also want to convince the consumers that is what they exactly desire to. "Buy" is not only purchasing the product but the concept. "Sale" isnot trading the benefit but the trust. What art is that is not the critical subject in this society. How to talk about art that must be the most significant topic to our community.
There are always a sign on the wall in the law-court called "in god we trust". As well as some people said they choose to believe love, money, art, technology or even the new sort of religion - media. Therefore, what is the next that we can trust?
Between是座落於地中海西西里島Capital city - Palermo的一場art event。其城市的歷史可遠朔至古老的拜占庭時代。由於位處東西方文化交界之處，自古即是歐亞非各民族的宗教、哲學、藝術、文化、建築、商業、軍事、政治及經濟相交流的大熔爐。而地中海可說是古西方文明的發源之地，不管是希臘神話的角色初始或十字軍征戰的文化傳播，都帶來巨大且無法抹滅的影響。著名的文藝復興運動就是影響人類文化歷史的輝煌年代。
此回展覽名稱 - Between正好緊扣其歷史淵源的典故，並考驗與會者對於“界線”的定義。從人類對於真善美的語言傳達 - Type and Symbol下手，前進討論至視覺媒介如電影與互動裝置的交相作用，皆顯露其直指探討各種藝術彼此間疆界之核心；或簡單說人類心中對於美學的分野為何。並更確切地想要對世界發問：“所謂設計的定義與功用是什麼！？”
至故宮瞧了經年流傳的鶯鳥山水，去了次淡水在河畔領事館劃分勢力範圍，到美麗華坐了圈半刻鐘摩天輪，走了趟動物園半山腰未窮盡全貌；算算，這該是在大台北地區走了回縱貫線吧。在這開啟之年的初出，像是為了補償遊子學分的游移，不過浪子的心態卻是怎麼也扯不掉拋不去。 Time machine。如果可以的話，非常地渴望能獲得一台。今早上課speaking practice的話題，引來一陣晨昏乍醒的歡笑；但卻不知有多少人真不肖想擁有，或說，以為我真想得到。如果成真我願意用十光年的生命來交換。不過有了它能夠任意穿梭甲子四季遨遊以後，十光年的景物算什麼？想想這大概又是讓神譏笑的矛盾祈求吧。
