all begins with L

“I’m getting closer to my home”

I grew up with this song in my dad’s car. Never thought I’d write this,

I miss you dad.

now what next
for the coming decade

ps. i miss the family

A wiseman (and a very flirtatious one) once told me that all if not most creative directors started out as copywriters.

one word: italy

you get to know them by
a) the no. of shots
b) the type of milk or the lack thereof
c) sugar or without
d) and sometimes (much to my resent) hot or hotter.

prescribed cups in process the moment they cross the traffic light, across the road.

today, single machiatto continued that he met up with his ex girlfriend for the first time in nine months since they broke up. he said “she’s lost in fashion world.” i said “milan?”, he asked “how do you know?” because you’re an italian but obviously not from milan. unlike his compatriots, he adds sugar.

last week, triple shot latte with a drip of vanilla non-nonchalantly confessed that his boyfriend is diagnosed positive. i made the correlation between him being tall, dashing and sweet, and his syrup of choice.

yesterday i find out that he used to lay his hands on you. on a side note, your daughter radiates the most beautiful energy i’ve ever encountered. i usually do not endorse syrups in coffee, but that dash of coconut is guilty pleasure. she’s almost two.

and then there’s the one-shot-mocha soy hot chocolate ex-supermodel mom with a musician husband, whose son recently babbled my name, who is also almost two, made my routine stint a little less as such.

i also almost forgot to mention one more, she’s called flat white.

i know i’m in the right place when i can see the moon from the bedroom window.

where i am intangibly fulfilled i am starving artist. and where i eat well, my soul is an empty rock. this transient period is eating me up. i do not want to be here. i don’t/

i have become accustomed to the fact that nobody in london replies immediately to text msgs immediately.
everybody here is in their own world, it seems.

including me, perhaps.

i am fully aware that this space has been fairly abandoned. intended or not.
the housemate shared that she just served a table with one of them being zaha hadid.
the only thought that popped in mind is a question that i would shoot to her after her meal.

dear zaha hadid,
do you still dream?

…was having one of those post midnight table (and green tea) talk with a friend in her bachelorette pad, explaining (examining) my current state of being:

i am now reminded of my state from where i was (not too long ago), not necessarily making great impact but greatly influenced, like a small fish in a big ocean. then years on i took a taste of being a hammershark, in a small tank. glorified, self gratifying, but in realization it was indeed a rather small tank. turn left, and it’s the glass, turn right and that’s it.

now as i throw myself back into the ocean, i am now a plankton in a vast amount of space. not necessarily making a great impact, but picking things up along the way from the highly influential.

to discover, perhaps.

today life’s back to normal. it feels good. random i know. but just embracing the state of normality, is not quite an everyday affair. it’s fullmoon tomorrow.

i move in, tomorrow.

deciding between art & design, is like deciding between istanbul & london.
except that the i can’t quite run into visa issues for the former,
get kicked out, and have a default option.

this whole arty exposure have lead me to conclude than i do want to something more meaningful in life, rather than to wank off my emotional baggage on a canvas while basking in its limelight with a wine glass in one hand.

warning: long.

tonight i have successfully resist the temptation
to once again submit myself to a night of mayhem
of which i will have to spend the measly amount of time
i have to recuperate

i do need to see the city in natural light
too much led is no good for the eyes
speaking of which
it is such a bitch to get them contact lenses
apparently it’s illegal to sell them without a proper document
prescribing the degree of my shortsightedness

so yes i have managed find myself a white chapel optometrist
who gave me four days worth of lenses to tie me up visually
before he manages to squeeze me in for an appointment
sometime next week

by then i should be christened the new resident of the south bank
but no thanks to the agent who lost my fax copies of my passports
and therefore delay the entire moving in affair by a week
“sorry, could please re fax the copies”
i am tempted to ask for a two pounds refund
because
a) i do not own a fax machine
b) now i have to walk around again and find a bloody fax machine
c) it cost two pounds to fax a copy of paper in a swanky print store
d) i don’t live next to a print store

within a span of days i have a new roommate
whose name rhymes with mary jane
tempting but shall not
no not her but her name

am in pendulum mood swings to renounce
the gayness status
it’s just too much effort at times
on second thoughts, first weekend of the month
party is next week, queue up

i have finally come around to having a uk bank account
other administrative issues to settle includes
internet subscription for the new home
switch my mobile to a subscription
because the ridiculous amount i spent monthly
on pay as you go
entitles me to an iphone contract

by the way, my favourite places in london
includes the pollock’s toy museum

will reserve another entry about my new home
there’s this whole issue about the fridge
it being too small for antipodean epicureans
and same goes for the washing machine

will need mom to ship my paintings to me. and summer shoes.

i can’t sleep. my head’s running in a spectrum of direction. it has been like that since nine years ago.

butterlies are back. goes to the esophagus this one.

in three days time
it’ll be my second monthlyvesary in london
i’m still househunting and housemate hunting
this city is filled with extremes
creativity, passion, brilliance
living harmoniously with
arrogance, delusion, hedonism

the product, the result
an economy that permeates dreamers with prevailing dreams
regardless

today i went to view a house
in the east, shoreditch to be specific
famous for its streets littered with starving artist
musicians, writers, peeking into white finished gallery windows

he said, i’ve just gotten out of a twelve year depression
when i renounced the idea of being a film maker
i lost this (he pointed) part of my brain
then four years ago, i decided i want to be an artist
i felt reborn, flagging his arms up into the air
voosh, he said

i am obliged to give him that thirty minutes of my attention
after all he poured me a cup of tea,
with a slice of apple pie which he proudly claimed to have acquired daily
for free

stupid, he said, people throw these away

my thirty minutes was up
i gave him my best wishes
not verbally

it scares the shit out of me

not him,
not the pass expired apple pie,
not the neighborhood

dear Q,

hehehehehehehahahahahahehee

hahaha.. hehe.

it has been while darling.