The Cranberries - Salvation

周杰伦- 牛仔很忙

my fave song these days.

周杰伦-退后

The Mist (2007)

Rating:	★★★★
Category:	Movies
Genre:	Horror

There had been three films that kept me up after watching them. They were The Matrix, Fight Club and Memento. Regardless is it due to their astonishing ways of telling a story, their mind fucks or their chilling endings, it kept me up for the longest time.

The Mist had just joined that privileged club.

It's ending had bothered me and frankly it was unacceptable to a degree. But it grew on me and I had decide to like it for its boldness, for it's darkness and for everything it stood prejudiced against.

Watching The Mist had been enjoyable. Very. I had never squirmed, hollered, clapped and swore so much during a public movie sitting.

I'm getting the DVD.

Punch Drunk Love - Fav Scene

Punch-Drunk Love

top ten

Punch Drunk Love

why Philip Seymour Hoffman is great.

We Are Scientists - Nobody Move

悶 - 王菲 全面體演唱會

Faye Wong - 闷Bored[MTV]

标准

 

我：Eh, 你朋友的那些porn有香港classic的leh.有翁虹，温碧霞，叶子楣leh.

昌：叶子楣？好看meh? 酱难看！

我：不会leh. 好看leh！水leh!

昌：你甚麽人大粒就好看啦！

我：Arthen?

昌：Then宝儿leh? Fucking chio leh.

我：Boa ar? Okay 啦。Let's say Boa 五分。。。

昌：五分！

我：听。Let's say Boa 五分，叶子楣本来两分，but因为她neh大所以加她五分。Then 她就七分了咯。

昌：！！

我：Basic rule - 不管她好不好看，neh大就加五分。

昌：哗fuck咧！

 

Placebo - Special Needs

Old As Fuck

I went swimming today.

It's something I had put off from a long time and I finally get around in doing it as a welcome for the new year.

There were too many people in the pool. Sunday. Must take mental note. And there was a kid, tanned and bloody young. He was as tall as my leg. He must have been no more than six. I could drown him just by pressing his head underwater.

He must have been there for a long time, thrashing in the water like a merman. When I had finished my second lap in fretted freestyle, he was already partaking his seventy fourth lap in butterfly strokes. That prick.

I looked around and realised that they were everywhere. One boy which was no more than eleven was teaching his mother how to perform backstrokes to precision. A whole line of prepubescent fuckers giggling as they dived and pieced the water like knives.

I am prehistoric.

An hour after I entered the swimming complex, I extracted myself in breathlessness and shame. I saw a kid by the edge of the swimming pool. He was afraid to jump in, his toes touched the water and withdrew back into dry land. I smiled at the back of my head and almost gun clicked at him.

'That's the spirit, young bean!'

手放开-李圣杰

Harry Potter fanvid: Tonight Tonight

The Breakup - A Portrait of Dignity

Closer - Clive Owen and Julia Robert

Dara

The television was the jumpy moon in the cave of his apartment. The measly device completed with a prehistoric VHS player was his only window to the fallen society. Fallen prey to only themselves. Seven weeks of quarantine, bounded not an inch further than two city blocks had drove the pacing man to streaking roots. His loneliness had turned into despair. He had never mastered the art of solitude and was always dependant on the intimacy of humanity. He needed to get out.

Let’s called him Richard.

Richard shuffled the room with motives and temperaments, suggested a hunt in progress. The television went on undaunted by the lack of love, it’s projectile lights contoured and fucked with both speed and sound. He had turned on the news a while ago, which after he had gotten bored of masturbating himself to old Japanese pornographic videotapes. The Internet was cut off for two weeks now, part of the Hans Scolofey’s intervention for Internal Security. His administration had to stop the jitters of conspiracy theories from reaching more households. Big brother is watching you.

‘Eighteen additions to the Public Healthcare Checkpoints had installed over the nation with adequate medical resources in aid to combat further transmissions.’ The television crackled, ‘For the safety and the welfare of yourself and your love ones, it is mandatory to register yourself or your love ones with the Checkpoints should you present with the following signs and symptoms…’

Richard peeked into the fridge. The ration of electricity had stretched the expectancy of the perishables to its max and had them dying in his pantry. At least he had eggs. But he wasn’t looking for food. The apartment was a dump, just the way Dara had left it before the outbreak.

Dara.

Richard felt a muscle tightened in his guts. Where on Earth are you? Dara. I missed you so much. Eighteen hours ago, he had contacted Dara’s household since the family had been evicted from the Hotspots. Dara’s mother had only muttered that her daughter was dead and put down the phone. Richard hadn’t been feeling like himself again. The news had promised that the quarantine would end soon, the disease would die quickly, that people would be okay again, and the vaccine was found. Seven weeks! No one is okay, the disease is in this room with him and Dara was dead!

Dead!

Fuck it. He wouldn’t believe it. How can someone be so alive in his head be dead? Dara is not dead. She can’t be. She is the only thing that holds him together in the womb of his own flat. She is the embryonic fluid, encompassing and divine. Don’t plug a hole to drain her out, please, not today, not ever!

‘Persisting fever, fatigue, muscle spasms and coughs. Sudden onsets of seizures or syncope. Rigidity of body parts. Photophobia. Phonophobia. Rashes over lower extremities. Breathlessness. Hallucinations. Headaches.’ The television quacked.          

He had saw the face of Dara in every limited faces he had seen. The moaning and the thrashing pornstars, the nape of their pale stomachs, their fluttering eyes of ecstasy, their brown and black and blonde hair. He heard her last said words of fury beating against the chest of the wall like an imprisoned butterfly and her gritted sentences the carbon monoxide sapping the sweet air. He needed to get out. He had his papers, his fitness seal, his cloak and his mask. He needed a weapon. Hopefully for self defense. The quarantine was strictly enforced on martial laws. In the cyanotic rush of public outrage, the people had propelled in pigheadedness the Reformative Socialist Hans Scolofey to fill the power vacuum abandoned by the incompetent ruling party. Hans Scolofey had proved himself to be fascist in his new lawmaking. The terror regime under the even more terrible plague stricken South had caused the citizens of their freedom and him his occupation.

Richard pulled out a power torch from the stack of belongings in the closet. He felt the burly weight of the metal, stark black and heavy in his hands. Someone rapped on his door. Richard stood in disbelief. A sound that was man made, not of nature, science or fantasy. He moved only upon hearing it for the second time. ‘Who is it?’ He called out in his quivering lips. He wrapped his fingers around the torch. It must be the military. This apartment must have been zoned. Zoned for eradication. The stories on the Net, that stuff about ridding everybody, it must be true.

‘It’s unit fourteen.’ The sound was crumby and grainy.

‘Huh?’ Richard moved closer to the door and barked. He put his eye to the peephole and saw that it was a brown girl with a child in her arms.

‘I… I lived down your left. Unit fourteen? I’m your neighbor?’ She explained.

‘What do you want from me?’ Richard barked again.

‘I… I need something. Well, it’s my boy.’ She said with much effort. ‘I haven’t got anything else to feed him other than the milk. I was wondering if I can get some food from you? Anything? Maybe an egg?’

The son looked very small and tired in her arms.

‘What is your name?’ Richard asked hastily, ‘You said you lived on the left, what is your name? How come I have never seen you before?’

‘Does it matter? Sorry. I’m Kasmilah.’ She introduced herself. ‘This is my boy, Sal. He’s four.’

Kasmilah. He almost sank to his toes from listening to her name. Nobody had talked to him in weeks. He would remember this name for years to come.

‘Kas… Kasmilah.’ Richard said to the door. ‘Turn away, please. I have no food here. But I have many sharp things in the house. I will use them if you don’t leave this minute.’

Silence.

Beneath the door, the shadow shifted and disappeared.

‘The government is urging the people of the South to be patient.’ The television squeaked, ‘The vaccine has been developed and clinical trials had been proven very positive on human agents.’

‘Shut up!’ Richard roared at his electrical moon. ‘Shut the fuck up! There is no cure. This is no hope! There is no vaccine! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!’ He threw his torch into the television, ruined it and sat in the darkness for the longest time.

 

Vivi

Let's call him Richard.

Of course that wasn't his real name. His folks wanted to name their firstborn Richard, but decided against it in case he grew up not liking it.

He had mentioned that the name sound like an old man would have.

But Richard was a bitter old man trapped in the soft flesh of a young boy. That's why let's call him Richard.

It was intended to start his story with him lying on back in his bed on New Year's Eve, the room was dark and he was just staring into the ceiling.

But that doesn't sound appetizing enough to begin a story, so let's start early at the eve of New Year's Eve. In an enclosed toilet of a karaoke club banging a prostitute from her rear.

It's not because I think sex sells, it was then Richard discovered that he didn't like sex at all.

The reason he was fucking that hooker in the ladies was that he doesn't like having sex with his girlfriend. He wanted to see if it was sex that repulses him or his girlfriend. That reason was of course one of the many excuses he had when he decided to pay Vivi the Hainanese prostitute for sex. I think he just wanted to be free from himself.

It was always the same for him in sex, middle of it, he was bored and he couldn't cum. Vivi was moaning away softy, clutching the skin of his backside. Another hooker was rapping onto the door, chiding them for taking so long, for she had wanted to pee. Vivi moved her perfect arse faster, trying to milk her client physically. Richard with resignation had too wanted the disappointing intercourse to be over. He asked Vivi to look at him while he continued to thrust. He wanted to see her brown eyes. Their eyes stared right into each others' while they moved beneath the maddening screaming of someone really wanting to pee.

That was the eve of New Year's Eve. He had told me the reason that he returned that immoral place of lust, false promises, diseased kisses and expensive desires was he had needed someone else to talk to. He said that he knew he was not attractive and he had no confidence, he could only pay for attention. For two hundred bucks, he could have five hours of attention from the prettiest women whom would never in real life paid him any decent attention at all. That was Richard playing the fool. His excuses. His girlfriend, Dara was beautiful. But I believe his part about wanting to talk to someone else. For the longest time, Richard had been a lonely person.

On New Year's Eve, he had returned from his work at the hospital. While the world ushered into the year two thousand and eight with fireworks and abhorrent countdowns, Richard was learning to blow circular smokes from his eleventh cigarette.  He was on his back against his bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark of his room. He was there quietly on his own, something that he doesn’t like doing much but was forced into character by unexplainable circumstances. He was there until the New Year’s sun came up. And he slept finally.

Richard hates to dream. He only has two kinds of dreams. One in which he was always locked behind a door and the other was always about seeing friends and lovers that had abandoned him. The two dreams had the same effect on him whenever he wakes up. He feels alone and wretched.

On New Year’s day, Richard was blissfully able to sleep a dreamless sleep. In fact he enjoyed it so much, he had decided to sleep through the rest of the day.

Richard was sleeping while the rest of the world started to get sick.

Seven weeks later, Vivi had called him up. They arranged to meet in her motel room. There were not many people on the streets now. Public transport was cut back to limit the risk of transmission. Richard’s sixteen minute taxi fare ran up to seventy five dollars. Like the current fashion, he went for his appointment with gloves and a face mask. Inside her room, Vivi was wearing her face mask too. She appeared relieved to see Richard. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses. That was not a good sign at times like these.

‘Like I say, I don’t have any money.’ Richard greeted Vivi void of expression.

Vivi invited Richard into the gloomy room for a sit. As he sat in front of the television blazing with the news, Vivi poured Richard some water. The coffee table was full of empty cans and cup noddles.

‘I will cut the chase. It’s not money.’ Vivi undressed herself and stood naked in front of Richard. ‘I want you to check me for the disease. I need to know. You work in the hospital, don’t you? Check me out. I can’t go to the hospital, I’m an illegal entrée. You have to do me this favor.’

‘How do you know I work in the hospital?’ Richard asked, remembering strictly that he had lied about his name, his age and his profession.

‘I saw you on the TV. You are one of the healthcare worker.’ Vivi answered, ‘Please. I will pay you.’

‘Even if I want to. It’s not so easy. You have to take blood sample, take a spinal tap or an MRI. You can't do it here.’ Richard rose to walk away.

Richard walked to the door.

‘Then why did you come?’ Vivi asked.

There were many reasons that Richard had decided to meet Vivi. He was curious, he was bored, he wanted sex, he wanted blowjobs, he wanted her breasts to suckle, he wanted her perfect hands to caress his hair, he wanted to feel Dara through her, he was lonely, he hadn’t talk to someone else in ages, he wanted attention, he was sick of himself, he was sick of work, he was sick of this life, he was sick of how the virus had infected everyone else, he was sick of the news, he wanted a human touch, a voice, any voice, soothing and warm, a warm body, a pair of eyes to look into. Someone real.

Richard decided not to abandon Vivi at this moment, returned to his place in front of the television and asked, ‘Wear your undies back. You don’t have to be starking naked.’

He could feel Vivi’s smile through their baby blue surgical masks.

Richard switched off the television of horrid soothsaying and lighted a table lamp near Vivi.  He had Vivi sat by the edge of the bed and felt her legs, he felt the icy smoothness of her thighs. His touch went from the trees of her arms to her neck. He could felt her heaving, her large chest panting. He grabbed her neck, digging his nails into the flesh. He tried to flex her head and sensed rigidity. He could smelt her shampoo in her brown hair. They were staring at each other, just like the time she was making him cum in the karaoke toilet.

‘Well?’ Vivi asked.

‘Take off your sunglasses.’ Richard ordered. He held the table lamp near Vivi’s face. Her exposed eyes immediately flinched as she drew quickly away from the light.

He had Vivi laid on the bed as he toured the table lamp’s light over her flesh.  ‘No rashes.’ He announced plainly.

‘Does that mean?’ Vivi asked anxiously.

‘Get back down. Do as I tell you to.’ Richard scolded. He had Vivi’s knees flexed, and then he tried to extend Vivi’s legs. She winched at the action.

Richard had finished his examination, ‘Like I say, you cannot tell if you have the virus by a physical. You have to undergo detailed medical assessment.’

‘Then what are you doing? Molesting me?’ Vivi asked angrily.

‘Ya. That’s right. I’m gonna go now and that’s nothing you can do.’ Richard grinned.

Vivi started crying. She switched off the table lamp and hid back inside her covers on the bed.

Richard ignored her crying and exited the room.

Richard returned twenty minutes later and found Vivi had cried herself to sleep under the blankets.

He pulled out a large plastic bag from the closet and started clearing out Vivi’s leftovers of cans and cup noodles on the coffee table. He made some coffee and turned on the television. He muted the volume and watched in silence.

‘Why have you come back?’ Vivi asked. Her hair was in her face.

‘I bought you some dinner. Eat them while they are hot.’ Richard said without taking his eyes off the news.

Vivi attacked the food hungrily. After her dinner, Richard brought a naked Vivi to the bathtub and started to sponge her feverish body with gentle ice water.  With a cigarette at the thin of his mouth, he washed Vivi’s hair with a bar of scented soap and massaged her back with foams and bubbles. He carried Vivi back to the bed with his arms where he lighted up another cigarette. Finishing that cigarette, he was in the covers with Vivi in the dark of the motel room.

They stared at each other in the covers with their arms around each other.

‘What is your real name?’ She asked.

‘Richard.’

She had slept very well that night, avoiding nightmares of abused childhood and the monsters with eyes.

Richard didn’t sleep at all. He knew his dreams of locked doors and lost loves have all the time in the world to wait, but his companion doesn’t have.

She had probably only a week left.