all begins with L

Today you had me lost for words. I could fall again.
Tomorrow I will see you, and it will be beautiful.

on why i’m at peace: this is a cut&paste so don’t be offended. )

“Alright, here we go.

Eight months on and I am declaring that my quarter life crisis is coming to a proper wrap. After series of interviews, taking aims and pursuing ‘proper’ jobs, I walked away from the last interview feeling utterly relieved knowing that I wouldnt be taking up the position despite putting on a good show.

After an hour of grilling the CEO looked at me and say that I am not one who value sales as much as marketing. I looked at him and went “absolutely.” We all know that a good product is a matter of being communicated, sales is a by-bonus end results. Chey-bah. )

After which I recommended him a good restaurant to have lunch in and he asked me to join him. But then I thought my time with him that day was already over stretched.

I am however meeting him again for possible collaboration. I’m beginning to embrace this mantra of working with people, not for people, even if you’re in a company. And that’s exactly what I’m gearing on with this coffee stint.

True enough, couple of weeks down the road, I saw the present in light. I start to work with what’s around me, my customers, my colleagues, the bosses and just working with the present value.

After seven months I’ve gradually make known to the managers of what I really want to do professionally and right now I’m co-interior designing the new coming cafe these guys are setting up. End of August I’ll be heading to Italy for the Biennale.

Coming back I’ll be starting an introductory course on Interior Design, not a masters nor a bachelor but a starting point. I’m beginning to love London for what it’s worth. Even today taking a new bus route home, I chance upon a road I’ve yet to stroll by.

It hasn’t been easy, I’ve made fools out of myself and still catching myself doing so at times, I’ve gotten quiet lately, perhaps having something to do makes you talk less, and if you talk less then you’ll really find something to do. The equation seems to work at present moment.”

THE FOLLOWING IS NOT CUT&PASTE, SO PAY ATTENTION. )

well, yes the ceo extended a dinner invitation next week. why not. and there’s a new distraction in town. when i get a name, i’ll let you know.

i found an interior design course from st martin which i’ll be signing up for when i get back from Italy. starts in October. Lola leaves London for good tomorrow, i’m quite sad about it actually.

i kinda fought with Sanran, I don’t know how to put it across to him that I can’t be friends with him anymore unless we completely put aside this intimacy.

on a more trivial note, i’m meeting ms. elizaveta tomorrow.

man?women?man?women? is never the question. )

you, i miss, as always.

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.

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.

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.

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

found a few potential homes, all in the south, a stone throw away from the tate, the bridge and the thames.

i need to live near water.

everyone wants a piece of the snowman.

am utterly pleased that i/ive
a) amazon-ed a china-made cam charger to lola’s place, because i left mine in istanbul
b) transfered 30gb of space to my hard disk
c) have 320gb new space to live with

now all i need/want is/are

d) ear muffs
e) more socks
f) in soles
g) drawing blocks
h) pencils

sculpture + product = my professional quest / present idol

it’s snowing!!!!

i did spit and whine in the morning saying if it’s going to be this cold, god damn it let it snow.
and it did!!!!

i’m happy, just like that.