Friday, August 12, 2016
Monday, July 25, 2016
I would like to thank those who have messaged me privately to ask how I have been. To be honest, I’ve never felt better.
I wouldn’t say that the last two years were a bad dream – more like a strained exercise of the imagination.
As with any exercise, the exertion has been good for my heart. Good for circulation.
Now it’s time to free my mind.
After the recalibration and the changing of gears, it’s time for acceleration – both for a change in speed and direction.
Now it’s time to refocus, fully embrace the things I have to grapple with.
Back to finding patterns in the geometry of memory.
Back to venturing out, both in physical travel and in mental excursions.
I can’t wait to visit new places! (A few more days and my new passport will be delivered.)
But it is also time to go back in history, to study not just previous mistakes but to track and measure progressions.
It is a wild and wondrous adventure, to chart the cartography of both thought and what lies between actual coordinates (I am studying mapping software).
The past two years have been a training in both reason and restraint.
So much to do! So many new things to discover!
I really don’t know how I can schedule everything.
But one thing is for sure, for most of my planned itineraries, I have to go it alone.
No other way to face the unknown.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
But what if, like in my case, luck always has its way of plunging its arm in the water right before I drowned? So much for Shakespeare.
Yes, time to talk about mortality again, and age, and regret. But also about meandering roads that don’t even appear to intersect.
All I have are forks and departures – as the poet I am now reading once said: “All I can tell you is this: what we are not, what we do not want.”
Is it really as easy as picking a profession, or say, your favorite color?
No matter how hard I exert my influence on fate, my concerns and my passions always have their way of finding me. Like sticks skewered to my tongue, I cannot pick my own words.
Inspiration is given and handed down.
Even if there are no seraphic songs or jewels presented to future saviors, even if most of the time I can only see salt shining in the mud.
Cut, tapered, and edited: that’s how life should be lived.
Without this confusion of choices.
Even when right from the beginning, I already knew the answers.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
I still keep my rubber flood boots inside my office pedestal just in case, but most times I’m happy with dock shoes – and lately – even trainers for more comfortable walks.
There’s no hiding behind the passage of time, no matter how much I want to deny my own frustrations and disappointments.
BUT, who can sink eternal optimists?
I can’t say anything new yet is coming my way – something to change how I’ve been living and handling things – you know, just not to jinx it.
Let’s just say I’ve removed my camo and have allowed myself to be seen in the open.
Give and take a few weeks, maybe months – who knows?
Life and death, yin and yang, black and white, success and failure: aren’t all these just binary opposites?
Overlapping, incestuous cousins?
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Here is one of the editorials in WestEast magazine that ran alongside one of my articles, entitled "Remaking an Original".
It is especially significant since Tyson Ballou is one of my favorite male models of all time.
Hope you can drop my website if you can. Or better yet, drop me a line and leave comments!
See you there!
Photography: Joseph Lally, styling: John Tan, make-up: Cheyenne, hair: Michele Salvatori, model: Tyson Ballou. With special thanks to Kevin Alpana.