Canoeing

Read this.  My eyes were open but I couldn't see a thing.  It was akin to the darkroom experience I had at home.  When I got nothing better to do, which was quite often--though my significant other definitely disagreed on this one, after I'd done washing dishes, taking out the garbage, recycles and doing the laundry, sometimes, I would get some black garbage bag and taped it up against a closet in the bathroom or down in the basement at night to make it light proof so I could get my film loaded into the developing tank.  I lined up my material and made sure I knew exactly where they were, film, scissors, reel, tank before I turned off the light.  But spooling the film onto the reel always got tricky when done in total darkness.  I didn't do this often enough so I remained pretty much a beginner all these years.  But overall, I didn't think I had any major screwed-up, even if I had I wouldn't tell you.  As much as I consider myself anal, somewhat and somewhat selectively perhaps, I didn't think I was anal or scientific enough when it came to the developing process.  Everything from dilution to shake (or inversion) to temperature to developing time was just "in the ballpark."  I never tried hard to control the variables, kind of "let it go."  It was the second night on our canoeing trip.  I was awake.  Acutely aware I was lying, essentially in the mud though inside a tent, somewhere along the Delaware Water Gap, breathing in and out the air that was heavy with moisture and smelled river, grass, mud and decays.  It wasn't pleasant like the romanticized nature people always made it to me.  It was just filth, though not the kind of filth like nuclear or chemical pollution that could actually kill you, slowly but surely.  This kind of nature dirt only disgusted and annoyed you and caused inconvenience, at least when you weren't in the "I just love nature" mood, which to me was almost all the time.  The ambient noise at night was just unbelievable as it was unbearable.  I could hear the river making all kinds of noise as it meandered interminably along; the wind stirring up the tree branches, the ruffling leaves and everything else in the air.  And all the nameless bugs were just merrily chirping all night long.  If only I had a mirror I would have seen in my own eyes how terrible I looked, unkempt hair, a stubbled face covered with oil that sure if scrapped off could fire an egg or two.  (Actually I looked like this all the time even on non-camping days.)  It was pitch dark even if I had a mirror I wouldn't be able to see myself.  I was just groping for my headlamp.  I was just excited to field test the headlamp so I could review it.  The whole point of buying stuff now was so I could review them, online.

Miscellaneous

She looks out the window. It just dawns on her that he'd always liked her: the way he not looked at her; the way he not talked to her.

(PS: Inspired by Stieg Larsson's The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo)

Untitled

Right before lunch…
“Okay,” said Mr. Bob, “take out your homework.” “I didn’t do it!” blurted out Jack. “EEEK!” screamed almost everyone in the classroom. “You stop that!” yelled Mr. Bob. “Next time, raise your hand!” Mr. Bob took note that Jack did not do his homework. “One more time you call out you are going to be in serious trouble!” said Mr. Bob. As you can see, Jack has issues with calling out. “Sheesh!” thought Jack. “Mr. Bob, you aren’t following the three strikes and you are out rule! You are only giving me two chances!” called out Jack. “EEEK!” screamed almost everyone in the class. “You scared me!” screamed someone. The three strikes and you are out rule is if you disobey rules three times you get into trouble. “I’m going to contact your parents!” said Mr. Bob firmly. “Darn!” shouted Jack. “AHH!” screamed almost everyone in the class. Mr. Bob glared at Jack. “Calm down class,” said Mr. Bob. “Now let’s go over homework.” RING!

The same day at lunch…
Jack was minding his own business when Mr. A made an announcement. “Boys basketball tryouts are tomorrow!” Sam knocked Jack’s friend, Andrew, aside. “Hey!” said Andrew. “So you are trying to make it to the team?” asked Sam. “Yeah,” said Jack. “Me too,” said Andrew. “I’m not talking to you!” shouted Sam. “Didn’t have to yell,” said Andrew. “Tryouts are tomorrow,” said Sam. “And you are going down wimp!” Jack, Sam, and Andrew were ready for the next day.

All of a sudden, Jack remembered last year…
“Jack!” yelled Andrew. “What?” asked Jack. “Did you know that people on the team get lunch early?!” “Awesome!” exclaimed Jack. Both of them tried out but didn’t make it. Sam had told them they were wimps!

After Jack had a good rest, he got to school. At lunch the next day… “Tryouts, line up!” yelled Mr. A. Jack had gotten lunch early that day. He was full of energy. He had practiced hard in the summer. The line went into the gym. LATER … When Jack returned, he came running into the classroom door. WHAM! Jack opened the classroom door and got in. “I’m innnn!” he screamed. Teachers looked at the classroom. “Calm down!” scolded Mr. Bob. In a kinder voice, Mr. Bob said, “Congratulations Jack. Now who else in this class is in the team?” Sam and Andrew raised their hands. “Good job!” said Mr. Bob. “Jack, if you don’t improve your behavior, you will not be on the team!” “What!” exclaimed Jack. “But he’s the best!” said Andrew. “I’m the best you fool!” shouted Sam. Sam shoved Andrew. A bunch of kids laughed. “Silence!” screamed Mr. Bob. “Sam and Jack go to the principal’s office now! As if now, you two aren’t on the team! And if you call out again Andrew you are kicked off too!” “Ooooh!” said a bunch of kids. Sam and Jack nervously went into the office.

At, In, And Outside of the Office…
The secretary told them to sit down and wait. Sam and Jack were sweating like crazy. Sam didn’t dare to shove Jack because the secretary was watching. “Jack, you can go in now,” said the secretary. Jack went in.
“Okay Jack. I’m going to make you a deal. If you behave very well, I’m going to put you back on the team and give you some cookies as a motivation,” said Mr. Bay. “It’s a deal!” said Jack.
Sam played with his fingers. When the door flew open, Jack ran out. “What happened?” asked Sam. “I’m going to get cookies!” replied Jack as he ran back to his class. “What!” thought Sam. “Sam, your turn,” said the secretary. Sam confidently walked in. He was going to ask Mr. Bay for a cookie as soon as he got in…

Back in class … Mr. Bob had informed bad behavior to the gym teacher on the phone.

A week later…
Jack had improved his behavior since he had made the deal. He really tried to raise his hand. Meanwhile, Sam got into a little trouble for asking for cookies. But he and Mr. Bay had made the same deal as Jack. Both boys were working hard. And then, the moment they were waiting for came. Cookies! Mr. Bay had given them chocolate chip cookies for their good behavior. Plus, Mr. A and Mr. Bob let them stay on the team. “Whew! I thought you wouldn’t be on the team anymore man!” said Andrew. Andrew and Jack high-fived. “Sorry I called you two wimps,” said Sam. “It’s okay,” said Jack and Andrew.

Another week later…
Game! PS901 Killers (Jack’s team) versus PS736 Twisters
PS736 had the ball. The kid who had the ball tried to pass over Sam. Sam jumped up and caught the basketball. Andrew was open near the half court line. Sam passed the ball to Andrew. Andrew saw that Jack was the only one open. 5, 4… the score was 18-19 PS736 leading. Andrew passed to Jack. 3, 2… Jack shot the ball near the foul line. 1- BZZZ! Swish! The killers had won! 20- 19! “We won!” screamed Mr. A. Everybody on the team high-fived. Jack, Sam, and Andrew couldn’t wait to go back to school and tell everyone.

NOTE: Guest blog, not written by me.

Journey

My mom turned the knob on the electric fan to zero. The fan slowly stopped oscillating and then the four green blades came to a full stop in their quiet majestic way. She picked up one of the white jade magnolia flower buds from the shallow dish and dabbed it behind her ears before pinning it down on the fold of her blouse. I swore I could smell her starched sun dried outfit despite the haunting smell of the magnolia. We were ready to go to the market.

Outside, the sky was cloudless, the mid summer sun was burning and the air was blazingly hot. The flower bud on my mom just bloomed a little when she stepped outside under the sun. Or it was just my imagination. The mud road was cracked and I could almost feel the punishing heat under my slippers. Mom opened her umbrella and tried to pull me under the shade as we walked. Whenever we went to the market, mom would say if I listened to her I would get a soda of my choosing. Invariably I listened to her because she usually said nothing.

We stopped at Fat Kee store on the road side. Inside Fat Kee, there was a table of old people playing mahjong, sipping tea and smoking, just like every other day. With the slow moving overhead fan, the smell of burning tobacco just permeated the entire store. The store keeper was a woman in her fifties, always immaculately dressed. Every time I went to the store she always asked me the same set of questions, how old was I, how did I do at school, and was I a good boy. She gave me a big hug when she saw me and asked me the same questions again. I was painfully shy, even at the urge of my mom, I did not say a single word back to her, just like usual. She picked me up to slide the refrigerator door open. I dipped my hand into the cold water and picked up a Waton's Cola. Sometimes I picked a Green Spot because I knew my mom preferred me to have Green Spot which she thought was healthier. She was probably right, but I liked the fizz of the cola. My mom took a few sips from the bottle and gestured me to take a look at the TV screen. I just witnessed the moon landing on TV. This historical event would have no bearing on my everyday life at all. Except the crass merchants got caught up with this space fever. Months later, my mom bought me a "space jacket"--a puffy parka with a nylon shell and a pair of baby blue "atomic pants"--form fitting leggings like trousers. I wore this ghastly ill fitting outfit to a wedding banquet and I was scarred for life.

It was the Watson's Cola. Before long I needed to relieve myself. We were next to a couple of fish ponds. As usual I said excuse me and my mom said that with me while I was doing my deed on the roadside next to the ponds. I looked up to the sky, the sun was still burning, blinding my eyes.

******

The operating room was frigid, he was shirtless, his teeth clattered uncontrollably. The light above him was so bright that he could hardly see anybody.

He felt strong arms were holding down his feet. But he was calm, his teeth slowly stopped clattering, the tranquilizer was kicking in.

"Mr. Chan. I am sorry, we have to shock you. You are having an arrthythmia."

As he laid there dying, he could only think of the sweet scent of the white jade magnolia flower.

------------

Topic by Stone Ip (Update: I tried leaving a link there twice and a mere comment there once. They all disappered without a trace. His page hated me with a passion.)

And the usual suspects.

Color

It began inauspiciously with a few flakes then quickly came the flurries and by the middle of the night, the flurries had turned into sleet. It was the first snowstorm of the new year.

The following morning turned out to be beautiful. Beautiful if you didn't mind the pavements were carpeted with six-inch of snow with icy crust on top and all the power lines and leafless tree branches were coated with ice.

A beam of white light from the rising sun just came streaming in through the bedroom window, slanted on Molly's white porcelain face. Molly could feel the warmth of the gentle morning sunshine, kind of welcoming her to a brand new day. She was awake but she just wanted to lie still in bed, against the urge to the bathroom, waiting for the right moment to get up. She wasn't going to get out of bed until the alarm clock went off with the usual Ohayous. The Ohayous from the alarm clock had become one of Molly's favorite morning routines, something she almost looked forward to. Perhaps it had to do with the alarm clock being a gift from her friend. He told Molly he got it on a business trip to Japan. Molly just knew he didn't get it from Japan and there was no business trip. She liked the alarm clock all the same.

"Ohayou, O-ha-you, O-haaa-youuuuu!" Molly turned off the alarm on the third Ohayou and dashed to the bathroom.

Molly had long straight hair. She used to have it even longer when her mother would trim it for her before she died of cirrhosis a few years back, since then she reluctantly went to the hair salon just to take an inch or two inches off every six months or so. She untangled the few locks that had come tumbling down the forehead in her sleep, then parted the hair right in the middle, framing her almond shaped face perfectly. She stood still momentarily in front of of the mirror, as if admiring what a great job she had done to her hair or as if reflecting on something, for just a second.

It just took her a minute or two to put on her business suit. Her sartorial taste couldn't be more simpler: navy blue pant suits. In fact that's all Molly had, navy blue suits from Macy's, all five of them same color for each working day of the week.

"Good morning." And with that morning pleasantry came a snowball hurling in the direction of Molly. "You little squirrel." Molly, smiling and carrying her long white cane while locking the side door. That little squirrel was Molly's neighbor, Stephanie, who's in second grade. She had been playing in the snow outside for some time, all rosey cheeks, while waiting for her mom to drive her to school.

"How are you doing?"

"You are looking at it." Molly put on her shades and proceeded to walk to the bus stop.

"Can I walk you to the bus stop?"

"Only if you say please."

"Please."

Stephanie let Molly hold her arm.

"You are too slow. I am going to miss my bus. Again." "I am only six." "Age is not an excuse." "There is snow everywhere." "OKAY" "Molly, can I ask you something? "No." "Molly, do you dream?" "Yes." "Do you dream in color?" "I don't even see things in my dreams." "Then, how do you dream?" "Well, I don't see in my dreams, I just sense things. Do you understand?" Stephanie thought for a moment and said no. "Do you ever dream of me?" "All the time." "For real?" "Cross my heart."

The two slowly walked towards the bus stop, leaving two sets of foot prints behind them on the snow, one big one small. The sun was getting higher and warmer and it sure looked like it was the beginning of a beautiful day.

******

More Color

topic by mad dog (my fault, I should have added this from day 1. my apology)

more color

here

New Year's Resolution

11:50PM. It's ten minutes before midnight. It's another midnight and it's not. It's going to be a spanking new year. Year 2009. Vincent is trying to set some goals for the new year, something he has never seriously done in his entire adult life. Maybe that explains his lack of focus in life. He feels like he is running out of time. In actuality, he ran out of time two years ago. He is on borrowed time. His mom used to remind him he doesn't prioritize, always does things he shouldn't be doing and let things he ought to be doing slide. He doesn't let his mom down. He knows he should be sleeping yet he is not. Every night. He needs a New Year's Resolution, an ultimate to-do list now. Before mid night. To right his life.

It's been cold outside, just cold, no wind, no snow, no drama. The silence of the night is almost deafening if not for the occassional bangings and hissings of the radiator. The whole heating system is old and it's good at making noises but not heat. The house is always under heated in the winter he could never wear shorts or short sleeves like people live in apartment buildings do.

Vincent takes out a piece of paper and a pencil and sits himself down at the kitchen table. He starts pondering a list. He starts to think about goals and objectives, something he learned from long time ago. What goals are, what objectives are, and how to be realistic so that they are attainable and measurable. The kitchen reeks of cooked food that he doesn't normally notice except during this time of the day. Winston* Vincent lights a cigarette as if to combat the stench. The nicotine kicks in and now his brain is oozing with ideas. He begins his list by writing:

New Year's Resolution 2009

His penmanship has never been good, it is bad, actually bad is an understatement. But he almost takes pride in his bad handwriting. He has this twisted theory that only ugly people have good penmanship and only snobs would dwell on and take pride of good penmanship. But for the resolution, he tries to write as neat as possible, as neat as his mom would write, as neat as only an illiterate knows how. The kitchen should be the warmest place in the house but it is not. Vincent thinks the cold is hindering his resolution. He moves one flight down to the basement of the house where the mother of all heat comes from, the boiler room.

It's been quite some time since he left his bedroom to start his New Year's Resolution. He thinks he needs to find out what time it is, he wants to see Times Square on New Year Eve, he wants to know what is going on. So he turns on the computer in the basement. The computer is a big beige box from the '90s but it simply works. Vincent always feels like he mistreats his old trusty machine by leaving it in the basement, out of sight, together with the aging heater, the sewage system, the entrails of the house, the necessary unpleasantries of modern living. Vincent lights another cigarette while the computer slowly comes to life. It's 1:25 AM 1/1/2009. Vincent just can't locate the paper anymore. Perhaps it's not the cold that made him go down to the basement. He just needs be distracted. But distracted from what? That's something he needs to figure out. Meanwhile he is checking on the news, his emails, and more news, just like every night.

******

More ...

*thanks to Haricot for catching that.

Still more.

Craigslist

CThanks to Craigslist, I got myself loads of expired film. Woo hoo. The hookup was arranged online and I trekked to Union Square to close the deal. It wasn't that exciting but it's interesting and pretty efficient.

I was wearing my gray t-shirt, white jeans ... just for the occasion ...

"You must be Mr. Handsome, you look even gooder than I thought .... " My seller informed me. "You look tremendous yourself. Can I see the goods?" "You mean these." She pointed to her boobs which were nice and perky. I told my seller it's the Kodak that I was here for. She was playfully disappointed. Her eyes were big and under the punishing sun had a sheen of blue. I took a quick look inside one of those no-frill environmentally offensive black plastic bags she carried and whipped out 2 $20 dollar bills. "Here." "You don't need to count them, roll by roll?" "No. They look good enough to me." She was happy to get the cash. "You have my number, Handsome, let's hook up some time." I saw her leave, her straight back has certain grace to it. I happily walked back to the subway station. Before I even got back to the cubicle farm, I got a message from my seller ... It wasn't exactly a message, it's just a jpeg of my seller's body part. Very perky.

Untitled II

Movies are a great escape. You lock yourself in a dark movie house and forget the world outside, rain or shine, it doesn't concern you ... for a couple of hours. Some people prefer to see movies with certain somebody, I am just fine to be by myself. I haven't gone to a movie that I am the only one in the movie house, there is always someone who shares the same movie interest at a particular time on a particular day. Father liked to share his movie experience with me. I got to get some air, to get away from the small apartment. I bet that was what he wanted too, to escape from the mundane, the daily grind.

Father would grab some banknotes from his white work jacket's patch pockets and then he would ride his bicycle, with me in the backseat to the main road where we would the 14-seat mini bus to town. The bicycle wasn't one of those popular big black ones. It's a man's model, greenish color but on the petite side, Father was not a big guy, he was a small fellow, good looking in his own way, he was quite charming when he smiled. The bicycle was fitted with a headlight which got its power from the back wheel through pedaling. It's one of those machineries that intrigued me. The apparatus was shaped like a miniature Coca~Cola bottle, when locked to the spinning back wheel, it sent electric power to light up the headlight, it was simply magic. I can't find any bicycle headlight anymore. One time I was in a bicycle shop and the new bicycles have warning label telling owner not to ride in the dark.

The bike ride to the main road didn't take long. And if Father brought my sister T along to the movies, which he did quite often, then we simply walked. It was not uncommon to just walk 30 minutes to get to the bus stop on the main roadway. My two older sisters used to do that every day when they started working in the factories in their early teens. And when I was a bit older I rode my bike to pick one of sisters Y up in the evening when she returned from work. I would get there early, waited for her, did my little bike tricks, like turning and braking to spin the back wheel or whatever stunts I made up. I just felt like I belonged there, me and my bike, the quiet dirt road and the open sky all in perfect harmony. When sister Y started dating, I would ask her if her boyfriend could buy me something. Soon they got married. After some fifteen years and two children later, their marriage dissolved. Sister Y have custody of the children. She divorced her husband but she didn't divorce her in-laws. I heard they play mahjong's together.

We had the 2.30PM show usually. Father and I would wait in line to get the tickets, and I only paid half price or admitted for free. Back then we got to pick our own seats. To go to the movies meant to have Romntrees Fruit Gums. Father would buy me a roll of Romntrees Fruit Gums from the confectionery stand before the movie began. I just loved those gummy sweets. They were very chewy and very delicious. I could never not chew on them when I ate them.

Untitled I

It was Father who introduced me to cinema, smoking and booze.

He was a quiet person, he didn't talk much in the family. I never really knew my father, not that well anyway. Sartre was right, it was a spiritual snobbery to think that one can be happy without money. Father was neither a snob nor a happy person.

Father liked to smoke somewhat. After dinner, I would light his Viceroy and he would quietly drag and puff under the greenish fluorescent tubes. Grandma was a smoker too. It was my job to run to the neighborhood store to buy them Viceroys. And in the summer, a can of cold beer to go with dinner. One time, I put one of his San Miguel's in the freezer longer than it's necessary, and it came out all frozen and bloated. He was pretty mad. He wasn't big or tall or anything, but I certainly didn't want to see him mad. Though he wasn't the primary punisher in the household, but he certainly could and did step up if needed to. One time he hit me with a leather belt when I was horsing around in bed. He must have a bad day. He could have waited for the beer to thaw and grabbed another one but he just wanted to take that opportunity to blow off some steam. So he was putting the frozen beer to the kerosene burner. I didn't remember the can blowing up but it wasn't pretty.

By and large, Father loved me, maybe not in a modern or contemporary kind of way. Though we seldom really sat down and talked. Maye except twice. Once on our way to a wedding banquet in a bus where Father mentioned how bad he felt he treated or shortchanged Mom. The other time was in a taxi ride from Kai Tak airport.

There wasn't much going on in the household. Life was boring and uneventful except for the perennial complaints between Mom and Grandma and quibbles among us children.

The only quality time I had with Father was going to the movies. I didn't remember if that was something I looked forward to but it certainly beat sitting at home doing nothing at all. Back then there weren't movies specifically catered for children, even if there was, I doubt father would take me to those. It was always those Mandarin dialog Wuxia features that we went to see. The fight scenes were incredulous brutal, gut spilling out, limbs and heads flying everywhere. Those were pre-Jackie Chan Shaw Brothers. Father never liked fist fight, he was a die-hard sword fight kind of guy.

... to be continued