It’s Wednesday afternoon, the day is clouded. But it doesn’t seem like it’s going to rain, at least, not anytime soon. There is a gap in the sky revealing a big chunk of bright blue heaven beyond it all. And temporarily, once or twice, the sun shines through, and the wind blows by, makes me want to do nothing but to hit the road, and ride north, if there’s still a way to the Pacific that I can just roam on and on. It’s a weird view, though. The sky is dark, but the earth shines brightly, and people, or so I imagine, are content.
I saw this couple by the road. They were setting up the food stand for the night market. The man was smoking a few feet off while the woman talked away in silent language, pouring custard on the plate at the same time. The man smiled back at her, gestured something back in response. The wind blew on the screen, making flipping noises. The man finally walked up to the stand and readjusted the plastic screen when he finished his cigarette, his arms tanned a burnt brown by the sun going on for ages.
It looks like the end of the world. But it feels like everything’s gonna be fine, and the world will go on.
Dearest friends,
I was never really a big fan of action movies, probably ever since I was 15 and realized that the hero always ended up kissing a girl, and always, at the most awkward moment. But lately, whenever I decided to rent a movie, I often ended up browsing into the action aisle. There is one theme that’s kinda grown on me: Armageddon.
I loved seeing the city deserted in “I Am Legend,” and reflected on how vulnerable the human species is. The same goes for the British “The day of the triffids”, basically the same storytelling with different twists. “Blindness” where Juliane Moore stands alone to fight the darkest part of human hearts, “The day the earth stops turning”, a remake that complimented on the original movie, somehow a little bit cliché but at least, entertaining. Although the main character looks like he just walks in from another series of movies of his (is that even the same suit?). And “Knowing”, I’m not gonna lie, it’s bad, but man, what a great final blow-up of the earth!
I think some will agree with me, we dig stories that the earth is going to an end over and over again. Maybe the liking is psychological. We see how the world is going to end, different versions of it, so that we get to decide how surreal it’s going to be in real life. Or maybe, just as one of the stories implies, the liking is of the need for a fable, so that we can eventually find a reason to change.
But what is it about the end of things? If, now this won’t be the first I personally use this phrasing, but what will I feel if the end of the world is actually near, or when it comes knocking on my door? If I were to wake up and find that 28 days ago, before I went into a temporary coma, the world was infected with a disease with no cure and everyone else was turned into monsters, well, to be frank, I’d probably be a little excited to go on a shopping trip. But will I find the determination to fight my way through? No, I’d probably end it myself: if the world’s ruined, if all the people I know were gone, if there was no one else, no one else, what then, is the point to live?
The list will no doubt be a lot longer had I tried to answer this question when I was little. But thanks to current technology, I can include a lot of things with it: compact disc, music and movies that get to be recorded and distributed to everywhere in the world, lasting for a decent amount of time. Centuries ago, only the every elite got to enjoy entertainment. But now, it’s available to an awful lot more people. And what’s more is that we now get to relive it whenever we like to, replay our favorite course or scene over and over again like we are some sort of psycho.
Which reminds me that iPod accounted for number two, for it makes it possible wherever we go. We could be stuck in traffic, jammed to the ugly face of that old woman who squeezed herself in on the train. True, but if we click on the podcast news, we go live with the world. If we click on Radiohead, we’ll play the leading character in an indie movie. And of course, we can always listen to Enya, close our eyes and try to listen to our souls. Or better yet, we can be rock stars on our way to work, walking home late at night, or at the meeting if you have long hair and look very serious drawing smiley faces on your wordpad.
Pets, which exist mostly for our emotional benefits. They can be ‘just pets’ when we go shopping for pet food and decide to pick the cheapest brand, or when we have sex on the couch and they stand at the corner watching which help making it not emotional scarring. Or they can be ‘Pets’ with the capital P, as in God, when they lie hopelessly in our arms that we can almost hear them say ‘I won’t be here without you’, how they are always there regardless of which program you want to watch on TV, or when they pee on the tricycle the stupid kid from next door left on the sidewalk, good boy.
Coffee, but I mention this purely for sentimental reason. God forbids, but if the kingdom is really at hand, I don’t see the point anymore to stay focus. Oh, so for that matter, maybe a few bottles of whiskey.
And just as in half of the movies about the end of the world. I surely will miss New York City if she went down. The other day, I was watching the remake of “The Taking of Pelham123” (what is it about remakes with the film industry?!), I found that I agreed with the character when he points out at the view of the city of New York and finds what he’s fighting for, even if I’m not a freakin’ New Yorker. I looked at my pathetic 21” TV at the bird-sight view of the place that’s been on my mind for I don’t even know how long. New York has a charm on non-residents from all over the world, so many who’s been trying to get there, so many that believe the answers they’re looking for lie within. I have to secretly confess. I feel that I live on some level, to see the city again. Isn’t that strange now? I wish I know why.
Stories, that includes literature, motion pictures, comic, plays and, you bet you, gossip. If we live in a world without imagination, what’s the fun of that?
Boots. Okay, I admit that this might be a judgment’s call. But I just love boots. Dr. Martins, laced up and covered by jeans, or set lose and out of the jeans. Some times I wear them with shorts. Or my ‘city’ cowboy boots, and my steel head 17” motorcycle boots. I always feel that I am taking on the world when I walk on the streets with a pair of boots on my feet. That, alone, I think is worth dying for.
Linen, yes, the simplest form of satisfaction. In winter time, after a hard day’s work (which is ironic, because I now devote all my energy NOT to have a hard day’s work), after a shower, what’s more comforting than to bury myself under layers of linen and flip through The New Yorker drawings, or a series of cheap thrill stories? Or in spring, when you wake up with the fan blowing your way, and the clear day outside your window, the sound of the traffic that you finally get used to, don’t you think that you couldn’t possibly ask for anything else?
Printer and A4 paper. They, yes, I AM serious, give me a sense of purpose and accomplishment. I think it’s wonderful to have dreams, even if I don’t really understand what they are. So far, I take joy at typing myself out on the screen and print them out on paper. Finding mistakes in it, maybe going through a few lines that make me feel dwarfted because they are so bad, it still makes me feel that I ‘m held together and relieved that I’m at least free on paper, free from judgement. If you could but see from my perspective, whenever I turn on my MacBook, during the brief moments as the CPU slowly wakes up, when I look left, and zoom in a little, at the HP printer and the stack of A4 paper, the cheapest I found at the wholesale, I can’t help but feel that they are my friends, most devoted kind of companionship, waiting quietly, to repeat after what I have to say.
Lastly, although I can’t really say I understand what it is, I think the idea of a lover is a very strong point to let go. The idea of finally being understood and appreciated by another person, accepted completely, even those things not to like about me. The idea of someone to turn to, to confess to, to trust, and occasionally (the severity of this point depends on what sort of folks one hangs out with), to defend you off the accusation of being alone. Even when things look pretty hopeless, don’t you want to hang on a little bit more because it might still happen?
Surely, I’ll be sad, if everything is going to an end, but not completely, for there is also so much that’s wrong with the world. Maybe it would be a completely different story when the end of the world is actually in my face. Maybe I wouldn’t really care about all that, and would go like ‘Hell no, I’m not gonna die today!” So maybe, for me, the liking of the end is to speculate about a reason to live. So it’s actually, for now instead of the possible future. And you’ll probably hate it, but I think for me, the most important factor of it all, would be love. Not just love as in sex, but also love, for a day like this, thinking about the end of days at the end of the day when none of it is at sight, except for a romantic and dramatic natural settings in the back. Instead of being reasons not to die, are these strong enough to be the reasons to live? To be frank, I don’t know, as it is.
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