Hong Kong

Yeah, so maybe it is time for a more wordy blog. With paragraphs and such like, maybe about Hong Kong, we will see.

The first thing of note is, it is fucking cold here. With no insulation or heating the building pretty much follows follows external temperatures, which fall to 4oC; I wore a hat to bed last night.

The dust has settled in Hong Kong however, most of the good people I have met have decided to leave, but that is OK I guess because I have a new house plant called Shazza. It is the efficiency of Hong Kong that gets me, everything here works, despite pitiful Cantonese, I have internet, a flat in which to house it and a duel gas hob cooker for cooking and boiling me whistling kettle.

(I also have a fat hi fi and sub woofer, mp3 decks and pissed off neighbours)

I have fridge (with ice box)

Which is full of semi rotten vegetables that taste weird, and beer, although that has run out now so i'm drinking wine from Australia which is warmer than my room.

It's odd I feel work dissolves my mind, despite been incredibly creative at work, I feel words I become lost to energy flow images and long days.

I want to write novels about lonely people who run futuristic energy farms, bur read comics because there more fun, until the government demand the impossible under threat of sterilization and crazy convoluted webs develop. But that is just a dream, for which I feel I have no time.

Seas of people often submerge me, even when I have 5 chocolate croissants for breakfast and non of my colleagues want them. Maybe they feel if they eat them they will be as stupid as me, and resit and eat their danishes. Maybe this paranoia is in my head, but Albert, who lives in my head, definitely tells me its not.

I also brought a mop, and toilet bleach, which I keep under the cooker in case I find enough dirt to use them.

I have framed pictures of England, which I took with a digital camera, got printed out at a photo store and framed in ikea minimal (cheap) frames. But the frames were so cheap they distorted the pictures and now they look crap.

Enough of this moribund rubbish...

There is a park in Hong Kong (Kowloon Side – where all the cool shit goes off). Where the old town used to be, it used to be intense and crazy with no water and drug factories, but community and life. The park is cool now, with skeletal trees lining white walls and meandering paths and people sitting thinking. With food stalls that sell treats.

The food here is very good, not Beijing standard but good. Ummm morning dim sum, from trollies and steamers and people who smile. Late night noodles and lunch time tofu. Actually the food is the best thing about Hong Kong, and everyone shares everything, which is nice.

Anyway maybe I have to go to an overpriced bar now...

Early morning sometime

Only one glass left
in the bottle.
Early morning sometime.
Cold lonely couch
in a distant different city.

Escaped from somethings
From three day
Amphetamine hazes.
No bedside table line
for breakfast
or morning beer glass hugs.

Hunter S. or Hemingway,
Kerouac or Selby.
You help me out today.
Like last year
and the year before.

Maybe not a solemn Mexican
Road today.
But a mayhem of Cantonese.
You'd understand.
Cheap karaoke bars,
Whiskey and green tea.

Treating hearts like
paper airplanes.
Feeling like a piece of shit.
Where is my tambourine man,
jingling ever on the horizon.
Tapping out another path.

Modern nomad blues
Ever another path.
Wondering where and when
The sun will set
In the same place again.

Bob

Why, when i listen to Bob Dylan,
Does everyhting fall into order.
it may be cliched,
it may be harking back to retro times
when i wasn't even a sperm.

but it all makes sense.
the lyrics that flow to meaning.
At times i have been inspired
while push bike riding down a
100km road in remote mexico
by captain arab and friends.

at times, like now i'm inspired
by the freedom
but it's always just the
personal meaning
that evolves
from the words
with the laid back strings
and the occasional harmonica

when i'm coming down hard
it sooothes
when i'm coming up hard
it drives

bob oh bob keep on going.

whenever i hear your new words
i think they're shit
but then i listen again
and again
because i know it'll be worthwhile

and suddenly bam
i am there, with an albume for life.

let me gamble on the jack of hearts.

x

(i only ever buy your albumes in mp3 format from internet retailers because i don't know why)