Simple could be beautiful

Sometimes, I think about what life I want to live, dramatic as movies? or peaceful as old people? In fact, it depends on what I feel at the moment. I'm the one who likes to live in the moment, enjoy everything I can have, no matter happy, sad, peaceful, dramatic or just simply moved.

Just a simply smell can make me happy, just a clear sound will move me, just a stupid joke can make me laugh, just a sad movie will burst my tears. I can always sense everything, and enjoy it, a piece of creamy cheese, a freezing but fresh air, a falling leave, a decent attitude, a friendly smile, a nice song, an old movie, a nice bed, a good massage, a big hug, a passionate kiss, a glass of red wine, a smell of Jasmin tea, a vivid color, an imaginative curve, a tender touch, a serious documentary film with good intention, a speed of the racing car, a shining surface of my shoes, even some dirt, some old furniture, some ashes of my cigarette, some nice but not necessary bags, some sweet lies..., all I believe is if you can be touched by any small thing, you can feel fulfilled in your life, oh, I forget something else, sometimes the achievements, sometimes satisfaction from work, sometimes extreme crazy dreams..., no matter the thing is big or small, important or not so big deal, obvious or hidden, glamorous or not..., if you can make yourself feel more, then you can feel joy.

I thought of rejecting my senses about the world before. At the time, I thought my sense is too strong to bear. Sense the relationship is too heavy, sense the politics around me is too frustrated, even sense the ecstasy of life is too much day-dreaming..., if you can sense more, then mean you need to bear more. I was totally wrong at the time, just depends on what I can have my perspectives, even bad memory could be sweet in the future, if I can take it as a lesson or a challenge.

So, I just enjoy everything, love everything I can have now, you know, simple could be very beautiful, if you want.

Shame

Is it because that she is Virgo? She easily feel shamed since she was born.

For her, shame is a kind of smell.
Sometimes it's the smell mixed with blood and pain, it's easy to sense her own smell while she is the period, this smell is so strong that can not be ignored, even if she uses lots of perfume and try to hide it. The clue of expectation about mating and procreation makes her face blush.
Sometimes, it's the smell mixed with saliva and hug, she can sense this while she meets her ex-es, a fading love with some fragment memories of the past intimacy, she suddenly blushes while she aware of this.


Different from most people feel happy about being accomplished, she always be in the unreal dizziness while she senses the hypocritical smell of the accomplishment, she feels in a loss and can not touch the ground, then her face turns red in a dizziness. Another shame is more direct and with anger, no, maybe u should call it "Humiliation", that only happens while she feel being misunderstood, at this moment, she will show her proud and persistent, just like the Jean d'Arc, but just her unhidden blush will leak out her true feeling, Shame.


She will feel shame while she senses the inappropriate smell , the noisiness, the unfitting wardrobes, undignified sights, the physical contacts without the awareness of personal space, those were fermented from behaviors lack of cultivation, all of these will make her feel the shame, just because she is aware of a fact, these people are living in the same place with her. And in some workplaces, she will sense the smell of mistrust, some premeditation of competitor's attacks, some gossips with intention, some interests of the rake-off, some intrigues, she just penetrates all these but feels her inability, then she feels shame.


Then, she feel a new style of shame comes from her body, while she's lying in his arms, a feeling with too much happiness that she can not afford, an uncertainty of facing the love prospects of her own, make her hide her blushing face into his arms, deeper and deeper.

Nightmare

She dreamed a man in the balcony,
She didn't see his face.
The frame is tight, all she saw is his body, her shadow and a little sky, 30cm high and 60 elevation from the ground.

The color of the dream is the very deep Burgandy Red.
What she weared is a bloody-red tight dress, she just approached the man who weared Burgandy Red silk shirt, and black trousers.
There are full of tension in the air.
After she closed to him, he pushed her head down to his crotch,
he zips down and let his cock out, and pushed her head downer to his cock.

Cut to the close-up shot, in his crotch,
Color becomes darker, a smell of corruption comes out,
She did him a blow job with an evil speed,
No background music, no ambient sound, no sigh, no scream,
Just a smell of hard-working.

At the limit of his orgasm, she bite his cock,
So strange feeling, it's like some chewing tissues,
Then, she gnawed his cock and his cum
At that moment, she pushed him down to the balcony.
He fell out.

Jump into another scene, there come lots of children, the color turns to black and white.

She was in the middle, 10 to 12 children surround her, they are from 5 to 8, girls and boys, what they wear are school uniforms, some little girls dress like the dolls.
It's a middle shot, they surround her and dance around, she started to feel dizzy.
Now with music, it's Small Waltz.

Suddenly, the music changed, became anxious, the high pitch almost break through the sky.

Cut to close shot.

Children started to go crazy and tried to bite her, they bite her fingers, her arms and her legs. And their face look cruel.
She suddenly got a shotgun in her hand, then she started to shoot them, everyone.
They fell down to the ground one by one, and their faces turned back to the innocent.

In the end, she was with the 10-12 dead children body in the frame.
Yes, she wear white dress, Now the frame is with color, it's blood, and only on her dress.

The blood of the children is black.

The Patterns of Fate of the Palm--The First Unsent Love Letter

When she touches his hand at the first time, it's already 4am.

This big bony hand still can feel the smoothness and gloss that doesn't belong to a man.

Through the dialects between hands and the patterns of fate, they start to dig out the background of each other, the unpredictable future, and also the sweat, the trembling, the heart beat through their holding hands, entangled fingers.

The mood arouse their emotion, make the passionate but uncertain love affair go on and on. In the confused, disturbed atmosphere, she just dodges and avoid any tenderness, obsession and even doubts through his eyes. There are some certain scenes, familiar faces, the never-ending stories in her mind during the intense interlacing of them.

5 Fragments of film

I.

That is not Yo Yo Ma
And not Bach for sure
What I want is to ignite the gunpowder
Just in the bar of the Buenos Aires
Blow up



II.

In the beginning, there comes out the word "Blade"
Is it the relationship what we got?
And then I found another word "Entangled"
Then I truly hope that has never happened, Le Roseaux sauvages of mine


III.

Look, there is no expression on her face
But the connection between us is written between her joints
When my left little finger moves, her right knee will feel the happiness
Then my right forefinger tics, her left wrist senses the sadness
I seem to know her, or maybe I don't
The Double Life of Veronique, the common name of mine and hers


IV.


Applause with feet
Even I don't have the arms like commons
Swing with all my happiness
I still have my sense
Just there, in the second joint of little toe of My Left Foot


V.

Before the spacecraft departed, It still remembered to look back
The shinning sunlight is reflected from the huge apron
Then aroused it to cry
Just at the moment while it saw its wife
Her black huge body with six feet
Standing above Dune

Disinfected Water and The Regular Disinfected Swimming Pool

1988, September
She dreamed about a bottle of water.

The windowsill of the dark kitchen. The refrigerator with the reddish-beown rust handle. The ceramic tile with blue and white lattice pattern. The moon lacks of a piece. The second layer white lattice of the refrigerator. There is a bottle of water.


1988, May
The second floor of Fule Building on the Dunhua north road. The VIP room of the Solar System MTV. Mr. Y, Miss H, Mr. G, Mr. K and her. 72-inch projecting screen. Yoshimitsu Morita and Banana Yoshimoto, Matsuda Yūsaku was not there. It is a fairy-tale movie. It talks about a weird family, inexplicable friendly attitude, the relationship with distance, as well as a variety of cooking process. The transparent tea pot and glass with icy black tea, the salad bowl, the salad sauce, the crispy deep-fried pork chop with rice, and the fruit mixer with blue dim of happiness in the dark. Simply happiness. Of course, the refrigerator, beneath the windowsill of the dark kitchen. That is the only source of light.


1989, Match
She dreamed about a bottle of water constantly. Dreamed about the refrigerator. That dark kitchen. The only source of light is the bottle of water in the refrigerator.

According Banana Yoshimoto's novel, "Kitchen" is the only place that Sakurai can fall asleep after her grand mom's death, strictly definition is "slept beneath the refrigerator", the place that is closed to that bottle of water. But for Yoshimitsu Morita, "the dark kitchen" and "the white old-modeled refrigerator" is the opening of the film, the dim light is the romantic way of hope. The visual is neat and fine. The novel is with some certain smell of death.

She likes the visual of Yoshimitsu Morita. It builds the beauty of dream and illusion that only can be imaged.
The world should not be like this. Impossible to be like this. She imaged the relationship in the film, a stranger could adapted another stranger just because she looks like the dog that he had before. She met one guy who told her she looks like the dog he had before. So, she wrote an unpublished story talks about adapting person like adapting dog.

But, she still likes Banana more than Yoshimitsu Morita. That novel with the smell of death is with the cold mood which is still with some warmth, and the story line that is almost insane but still rational, is so much alike the fairy-tale, that is not polluted by the reality world.


1989, December
Lately autumn and early winter is the most beautiful season in Taipei. Walked outside the Theatre, and felt the cool air. Imagined the feeling of jumping into the swimming pool in the winter under 15 degree. Imagined Michitaka Tsutsui with his goggles stayed in the swimming pool. Breath.


1989, December, 24th
Dreamed about the bottle of water for a long time. But, it wasn't in the refrigerator, it was beneath the swimming pool.


1993, February
The strange linkage between Banana Yoshimoto and Joji Matsuoka. Must be a sense of foreboding of sadness. Banana's is a strange touching thought very closed to the death. Matsuoka's is the sense of absolute compulsory. Maybe because that goldfish is dumb. The water in my memory is still, like the water in the disinfected swimming pool, or just the bottle of water which is in the refrigerator. The disinfected water maybe clean but won't be free.


1994, One Noon in June
Passing by the flow of people on the street is so much alike floating in the sea. Walking in the city is more like in the swimming pool. Just read the comics talking about the supernatural power legends of the man-kind mermaid. Feel the environment surround became to under water world, and the crowds are so much like the seaweed, sea anemones, or plankton, and the flow of the water became the humming sound that was created in a confined space, she thought she might be just a little fish. A dumb fish which was stocked in the swimming pool. She constantly dreamed about the bottle of water. Longing for swimming. Drowned in the water is her best wish.

confusing mind

It's been a long time for my blog.
And I try to write it in English, though I'm not good at it.

I'm confused recently, and sometimes, I don't know what the life I live.
Sure, I work, I work everyday, and sometimes I work pretty hard, always overwork.
But what about my personal life? Any serious relationship? Not really had.
I just watched a TV series, called "Californication", that was introduced by a friend, it talks about a guy who was a writer before but he stops writing until his ex-wife's boyfriend gives him a job to write a blog. Is it strange? Yes, it is, but sometimes, life is strange as this, such as mine.

I don't want to talk about my personal life, but this TV series, I mean the guy, make me think of myself, just he's a man and I'm a woman. Sometimes, I think I pretty much fucked my life, too many meaningless dates, though I'm still kind and sweet as he is.

And just like him, I haven't written anything but work for a long long time. You know, I miss it, writing something to myself, yes, to myself, writing is the most efficient way to communicate with myself, not communicate with others. OK, you might think I'm too self-centered, yes, I am, but if it the only way that you can true to yourself, what do you do? You must do the thing as I do.

I like men, I really like, though sometimes, I don't, and as the guy in the TV series, I really believe he's true every woman, only at short period. Sometimes, you just fucked up the relationship and don't know why. Or sometimes, I just think, I might be a man, but sometimes I think I'm not, I'm pretty a woman. Maybe cuz my personality, or maybe everyone meets this situation, or maybe I just drink too much and think of these crapes.

Should stop this confusing mind of mine, and back to my normal and healthy life. But, is it life normal and healthy, I just don't know, just hope it is, and will follow it as I can.