"I have to block out thoughts of you, so I don't lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape, to remind me that I'm alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home..."
07/11/2011
26/05/2011
Memorial of a stranger
At 9:15am, 15 minutes earlier than the usual time the court opens, court no.1 in the High Court building was already packed. At the entrance of the court room, I could see nothing but the backs of a dozen of very tall non-Chinese lawyers in their barristers' gowns or suits.
There they were, paying tribute to Mr Justice Colin Mackintosh. He passed away earlier this month in the United Kingdom from brain cancer. He was 58 years old.
I could hardly make out the words that the speakers were saying. Some 20 minutes later, when the memorial sitting was over, judges left through their special exits while the rest of the crowd came out the public entrance.
I lingered around outside and saw a few tearful women whom I recognise as the court clerks.
Hours later, I got given a copy of a message that was read out loud by Mr Justice Peter Line during the memorial sitting. It was a note that Mr Mackintosh wrote last autumn.
"Thank you from deep in my heart for your contributions to my life, for making my life in Hong Kong the joy it has been. So if any of you have any tears, wipe them away....
I have made so many good and dear friends here in Hong Kong. Some of you in particular have been so special to me that I feel, as I write this note, that it will be a question of me losing you rather than you losing me...What can be a greater tribute than to know that I am a better person for having known each and everyone of you. Please do not weep at my passing: just be thankful for my life.
All I ask of you is that you do not forget me, at least, not so quickly. Remember me in your thoughts and prayers, tell stories about me sometimes and laugh about me; and I ask you to accept my thanks in good heart...
The miracle of life is a circle of birth and death: it always has been and always will be. What we have to do is make the most of the time we are given...
If I have offended any of you either in my judicial capacity or otherwise, then I ask forgiveness. I am not perfect: I know that best of all. Let me tell you though, that upon reaching the pearly gates, if I'm lucky enough to get there, I shall ask for a voire dire before any judgement is made on my life. I will maintain that I was never properly cautioned.
Please go from here in good heart and make the most of life. I do feel I have been snatched from it slightly early, well, earlier than I and my beloved wife Jani had planned. I feel that I had more to do, more to achieve in life; more to do as a judge, as a husband and father, and hopefully as a grandfather, but there we are. The Grim Reaper does not work to order.
I have known for many months that my condition would be a difficult one to bear; that the risks were substantial: a bit like, I can hear the wags say, a bit like the chances of an acquittal before Mackintosh in the District Court.
...
I love you.
Remember me.
Goodbye
Colin
----
R.I.P
There they were, paying tribute to Mr Justice Colin Mackintosh. He passed away earlier this month in the United Kingdom from brain cancer. He was 58 years old.
I could hardly make out the words that the speakers were saying. Some 20 minutes later, when the memorial sitting was over, judges left through their special exits while the rest of the crowd came out the public entrance.
I lingered around outside and saw a few tearful women whom I recognise as the court clerks.
Hours later, I got given a copy of a message that was read out loud by Mr Justice Peter Line during the memorial sitting. It was a note that Mr Mackintosh wrote last autumn.
"Thank you from deep in my heart for your contributions to my life, for making my life in Hong Kong the joy it has been. So if any of you have any tears, wipe them away....
I have made so many good and dear friends here in Hong Kong. Some of you in particular have been so special to me that I feel, as I write this note, that it will be a question of me losing you rather than you losing me...What can be a greater tribute than to know that I am a better person for having known each and everyone of you. Please do not weep at my passing: just be thankful for my life.
All I ask of you is that you do not forget me, at least, not so quickly. Remember me in your thoughts and prayers, tell stories about me sometimes and laugh about me; and I ask you to accept my thanks in good heart...
The miracle of life is a circle of birth and death: it always has been and always will be. What we have to do is make the most of the time we are given...
If I have offended any of you either in my judicial capacity or otherwise, then I ask forgiveness. I am not perfect: I know that best of all. Let me tell you though, that upon reaching the pearly gates, if I'm lucky enough to get there, I shall ask for a voire dire before any judgement is made on my life. I will maintain that I was never properly cautioned.
Please go from here in good heart and make the most of life. I do feel I have been snatched from it slightly early, well, earlier than I and my beloved wife Jani had planned. I feel that I had more to do, more to achieve in life; more to do as a judge, as a husband and father, and hopefully as a grandfather, but there we are. The Grim Reaper does not work to order.
I have known for many months that my condition would be a difficult one to bear; that the risks were substantial: a bit like, I can hear the wags say, a bit like the chances of an acquittal before Mackintosh in the District Court.
...
I love you.
Remember me.
Goodbye
Colin
----
R.I.P
17/05/2011
two more weeks
In exactly two weeks' time, I will stop writing for the Post. It 's not so much time for an eulogy but more about uncertainties.
Back to London I go to pursue something that I started almost three years ago. However much I have gained and learnt during my stint as a journalist, the decision to stay in Hong Kong in the summer of 2009 still feels like the greatest mistake of my life that has set me back.
Whether it was really a mistake hinges on my next job offer, at least in a simplistic way.
The past year or so was full of confusion and indecisiveness. The decision that I finally settled with is probably the best, and definitely the hardest. I hope I am not too naive to think that it will pay off when it may not.
Hong Kong is fiercely commercial. Money buys you happiness, full stop. Girls learn to be gold diggers ; old people who can hardly stand up straight scavange cardboard scraps for a living; people of all ages line up for hours to trade iPhones and ipads for quick bucks ; and now the retail chain that trades secondhand luxury products racked up the biggest IPO in the city's history, or something insane along those lines. Worst yet, the biggest selling tabloid newspaper in the city now routinely churns out articles promoting the worst traits of typical young adults of the city - not just being superficial but believing that it's the only way to be.
It has been demotivating to be on a blue collar wage. In the absence of good healthcare, it's damn scary to think that if I may be in a situation where I just don't have the money and die from otherwise treatable illnesses. It makes me wonder if I have been so naive all my life to not aim to sell my soul and make lots of money.
But then today, I saw through a court case where a men who, possibly suffering from untreated schizophrenia, shook his father and accidentally killed him because the old man bumped his head on something. The man was the primary carer of the old man, and was happy to look after him. But the family refused to send the old man to a nursing home so that they would not lose their source of income : the father 's disability allowance. The two men and the old man's wife just lived together in a shoe box until the incident. This kind of things is worth fighting for, and this is where society has failed us.
It's a very sad case. I was just glad to be in the courtroom so that I could put things about life in perspective.
Back to London I go to pursue something that I started almost three years ago. However much I have gained and learnt during my stint as a journalist, the decision to stay in Hong Kong in the summer of 2009 still feels like the greatest mistake of my life that has set me back.
Whether it was really a mistake hinges on my next job offer, at least in a simplistic way.
The past year or so was full of confusion and indecisiveness. The decision that I finally settled with is probably the best, and definitely the hardest. I hope I am not too naive to think that it will pay off when it may not.
Hong Kong is fiercely commercial. Money buys you happiness, full stop. Girls learn to be gold diggers ; old people who can hardly stand up straight scavange cardboard scraps for a living; people of all ages line up for hours to trade iPhones and ipads for quick bucks ; and now the retail chain that trades secondhand luxury products racked up the biggest IPO in the city's history, or something insane along those lines. Worst yet, the biggest selling tabloid newspaper in the city now routinely churns out articles promoting the worst traits of typical young adults of the city - not just being superficial but believing that it's the only way to be.
It has been demotivating to be on a blue collar wage. In the absence of good healthcare, it's damn scary to think that if I may be in a situation where I just don't have the money and die from otherwise treatable illnesses. It makes me wonder if I have been so naive all my life to not aim to sell my soul and make lots of money.
But then today, I saw through a court case where a men who, possibly suffering from untreated schizophrenia, shook his father and accidentally killed him because the old man bumped his head on something. The man was the primary carer of the old man, and was happy to look after him. But the family refused to send the old man to a nursing home so that they would not lose their source of income : the father 's disability allowance. The two men and the old man's wife just lived together in a shoe box until the incident. This kind of things is worth fighting for, and this is where society has failed us.
It's a very sad case. I was just glad to be in the courtroom so that I could put things about life in perspective.
15/05/2011
crisis
I have been free from dramas for so long. Today, a self-inflicted crisis hit hard.
Memory of an alcohol -fuelled night out is hazy. Patchy recollections of what exactly happened and the moments that I can recall are unpleasant.
It's one of those "I vowed I would never do it" incidents that shake the core of all beliefs and values. Something that has so far been so close to perfection, and an object of envy is now tainted.
What more am I capable of?
The body tells you one thing. Your mind tells you another. Words of resistence were reduced to nothing.
I don't even remember how I got here.
Then there was an apology, but I don't know what it was for, and I don't want to find out.
There was a crisis seven years ago. (God it has been that long.) It was someone's quest for truth that made me wish as I drove aimlessly that I would just end it all in a fatal car crash. It plunged me to such low and kept me there for so long.
Perhaps because of that incident that I now manage to be distracted, to act as though it's just another Sunday.
There were countless hours in despair, searching for answers, taking in those judgmental stares unaccompanied by words.
Then there was my own quest for truth that sent me off spiralling down, for years.
Last night was unexpected, unintended and smack of resistance that just didn't go far enough. My interrupted stream of consciousness still screamed out loud, but the voice just gave in in the weakened mind. Whatever justification that I can come up with will never be good enough.
Would lies become the truth for as long as they are not revealed as lies ?
Memory of an alcohol -fuelled night out is hazy. Patchy recollections of what exactly happened and the moments that I can recall are unpleasant.
It's one of those "I vowed I would never do it" incidents that shake the core of all beliefs and values. Something that has so far been so close to perfection, and an object of envy is now tainted.
What more am I capable of?
The body tells you one thing. Your mind tells you another. Words of resistence were reduced to nothing.
I don't even remember how I got here.
Then there was an apology, but I don't know what it was for, and I don't want to find out.
There was a crisis seven years ago. (God it has been that long.) It was someone's quest for truth that made me wish as I drove aimlessly that I would just end it all in a fatal car crash. It plunged me to such low and kept me there for so long.
Perhaps because of that incident that I now manage to be distracted, to act as though it's just another Sunday.
There were countless hours in despair, searching for answers, taking in those judgmental stares unaccompanied by words.
Then there was my own quest for truth that sent me off spiralling down, for years.
Last night was unexpected, unintended and smack of resistance that just didn't go far enough. My interrupted stream of consciousness still screamed out loud, but the voice just gave in in the weakened mind. Whatever justification that I can come up with will never be good enough.
Would lies become the truth for as long as they are not revealed as lies ?
19/03/2011
Five weeks into the inquest over the manila bus tragedy, the end is fially near.
The initially pointless excercise that did nothing but to put survivors and families of the deceased through pain again saw its first ray of sunlight today. This came afterbnumerous articles on the lack of cooperation from the philippines' government, persistent press release by survivors and gunman's younger brother's wish to be heard.
The evidence heard today probably didn't add much to the picture, but at least the court and the department responsible will cope slightly less crap from the public.
From not being sure whether the paper would entrust me with this job, to taking the initiative by passing a note to the coroner asking for transcripts thereby hearing my own name in open court for the first time, to filipino journalists telling me that they follow my stories everyday and the vice consul singling me out to blame (all for the same reason that they can't read chinese), I feel like I have come a long way just in the span of weeks.
It's exciting to be given this responsibility, to have stories of decent length and occasionally some as a splash. But all the late nights and chaos in the day have taken a toll on me.
Meanwhile, there's the same old troubles of making life decisions, the same fear, the same umcertainties. The life I want isn't one here, but the shortcut that leads me somewhere stable is.
Then there's relationship. I'm finally approaching my first one year mark, and not fretting over it. At least there's some signs that I've grown out of my commitment phobia. Still, it only takes one decision, one flight, to change everything again.
The initially pointless excercise that did nothing but to put survivors and families of the deceased through pain again saw its first ray of sunlight today. This came afterbnumerous articles on the lack of cooperation from the philippines' government, persistent press release by survivors and gunman's younger brother's wish to be heard.
The evidence heard today probably didn't add much to the picture, but at least the court and the department responsible will cope slightly less crap from the public.
From not being sure whether the paper would entrust me with this job, to taking the initiative by passing a note to the coroner asking for transcripts thereby hearing my own name in open court for the first time, to filipino journalists telling me that they follow my stories everyday and the vice consul singling me out to blame (all for the same reason that they can't read chinese), I feel like I have come a long way just in the span of weeks.
It's exciting to be given this responsibility, to have stories of decent length and occasionally some as a splash. But all the late nights and chaos in the day have taken a toll on me.
Meanwhile, there's the same old troubles of making life decisions, the same fear, the same umcertainties. The life I want isn't one here, but the shortcut that leads me somewhere stable is.
Then there's relationship. I'm finally approaching my first one year mark, and not fretting over it. At least there's some signs that I've grown out of my commitment phobia. Still, it only takes one decision, one flight, to change everything again.
06/02/2011
Lesson from Cairo
The recent trip to egypt was inspiring, thrilling and invaluable to say the least. Seeing the ancient part of the country was something I've been wanting to do for years. The temples and the pyramids were breath taking. Our ancestors' intelligence and craftsmanship make me feel like selection of the fitness has failed us.
But the most inspiring part of the trip was the somewhat lucky and safe stumble into Cairo amidst the mass protest.
I think I almost missed the chance to do a journalistic piece of work- my first in such a situation. It made me love journalism more, and see what journalism outside of this city can offer.
My lovely arab-american friend/colleague whom I ran into at the airport warned me of the protests. And he was so encouraging about my piece.
I don't think I am experienced enough right now to know exactly what to find out from that kind of situation, but being there writing a more or less descriptive piece while reading and watching just about anything I could get my hands on did start to give me some ideas.
The one uncle who has been rather critical of me said that if this is what I want to do, look outside of hk. He is right, and I already know.
I don't think I can live a settled, braindrain corporate life here.
But the most inspiring part of the trip was the somewhat lucky and safe stumble into Cairo amidst the mass protest.
I think I almost missed the chance to do a journalistic piece of work- my first in such a situation. It made me love journalism more, and see what journalism outside of this city can offer.
My lovely arab-american friend/colleague whom I ran into at the airport warned me of the protests. And he was so encouraging about my piece.
I don't think I am experienced enough right now to know exactly what to find out from that kind of situation, but being there writing a more or less descriptive piece while reading and watching just about anything I could get my hands on did start to give me some ideas.
The one uncle who has been rather critical of me said that if this is what I want to do, look outside of hk. He is right, and I already know.
I don't think I can live a settled, braindrain corporate life here.
26/12/2010
A Walk Down Memory Lane
On too many Christmas, new years and other nights out, I wondered if I would run into her. Last night, we were at a Christmas eve party together with her posse. It didn't cross my mind that she would show up until her name was mentioned in pre-drinks. Her ways of drawing crowds and turning heads, and the sophistication that came with maturity left me in awe. We’re no longer seventeen.
Standing in front of the club, behind the barricades for crowd control, and in between drags of smoke, I spotted her and her man. We exchanged a hug and the generic “haven’t seen you for awhile!” He and I both recognized each other and extended a handshake as though we are old acquaintance even though we hardly spoke in the past. Memories came back- the theatre show, the cruise, the drunken older woman touching me, her clinging on to me while drunk and in five inches of heels that got him coming over to ask about me, which he has probably forgotten by now.
As soon as we sat, he got me a drink and we got talking about Hong Kong, the wealth gap, Cambodia and drugs. It’s hardly a typical conversation, but it seemed to be the right thing at the time. We chatted for so long that at some point I wondered if she was cringing at the sight of that. I would, if I were her.
Her extravagance, and her girlfriends’, aren’t new to me. It’s all about handbags, shoes and party clothes – a brand new Hermes getting scratched, and the smell of a new Gucci handbag. Times like that I am glad that their social comparison does not apply to me, and I am not judged by what I wear and what I carry. But at the same time, despite being properly dressed, the fact that I was obviously gay got me in trouble at the door initially. While I was with the rest of the girls, I was stopped until the door bitch saw my friends talking to me. Gays aren’t welcome in parties like that. It’s just how it is in LKF and clubs in the West End.
I never regretted a moment of unhappiness or even agony that I brought upon myself because of her. To me, she stands for the world that I would have belonged if I were straight. It is a lifestyle that I can afford to live, if I am willing to spend my family's money like they do, with no hesitation. She stands for the lifestyle of rich kids, glamour and endless parties.
After all these years, I don’t really know her. I just know that I hold onto moments of encounters even if they killed, and moments when she couldn’t hide how she felt - the sight of those elevated me. She was the girl who got drunk and honest when she turned 18. She was the one who left me baffled, dazzled and confused for many years. She is the one who now, I think, has found the one, and I think she has found the right one.
Standing in front of the club, behind the barricades for crowd control, and in between drags of smoke, I spotted her and her man. We exchanged a hug and the generic “haven’t seen you for awhile!” He and I both recognized each other and extended a handshake as though we are old acquaintance even though we hardly spoke in the past. Memories came back- the theatre show, the cruise, the drunken older woman touching me, her clinging on to me while drunk and in five inches of heels that got him coming over to ask about me, which he has probably forgotten by now.
As soon as we sat, he got me a drink and we got talking about Hong Kong, the wealth gap, Cambodia and drugs. It’s hardly a typical conversation, but it seemed to be the right thing at the time. We chatted for so long that at some point I wondered if she was cringing at the sight of that. I would, if I were her.
Her extravagance, and her girlfriends’, aren’t new to me. It’s all about handbags, shoes and party clothes – a brand new Hermes getting scratched, and the smell of a new Gucci handbag. Times like that I am glad that their social comparison does not apply to me, and I am not judged by what I wear and what I carry. But at the same time, despite being properly dressed, the fact that I was obviously gay got me in trouble at the door initially. While I was with the rest of the girls, I was stopped until the door bitch saw my friends talking to me. Gays aren’t welcome in parties like that. It’s just how it is in LKF and clubs in the West End.
I never regretted a moment of unhappiness or even agony that I brought upon myself because of her. To me, she stands for the world that I would have belonged if I were straight. It is a lifestyle that I can afford to live, if I am willing to spend my family's money like they do, with no hesitation. She stands for the lifestyle of rich kids, glamour and endless parties.
After all these years, I don’t really know her. I just know that I hold onto moments of encounters even if they killed, and moments when she couldn’t hide how she felt - the sight of those elevated me. She was the girl who got drunk and honest when she turned 18. She was the one who left me baffled, dazzled and confused for many years. She is the one who now, I think, has found the one, and I think she has found the right one.
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