tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-102766682012-02-16T20:54:04.639+07:00random shrieks and murmursPuccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.comBlogger341100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-78876033689886680412009-11-24T05:05:00.003+07:002009-11-25T02:27:03.563+07:00

There is a name for no name.I now knock your door with much less preconception than, say, two months ago. After all, panta rei hey - everything flows. The circle is broken, you said - some weeks ago. Then, sweet confessions, as we chew more hours in each other presence. We mark the time(s) as we transgress it. But last night, I have all the traces erased, part accidental, part brutal. Memories

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-52389078994213579342008-07-01T17:05:00.000+07:002008-07-01T17:06:37.362+07:00

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-79883873550603111732008-06-28T14:39:00.003+07:002008-06-28T14:44:37.418+07:00

49: Ko/MoltingThe Chinese character for this hexagram means in its original sense an animal's pelt, which is changed in the course of the year by molting. From this word is carried over to apply to the "moltings" in political life, the great revolutions connected with changes of governments.The two trigrams making up the hexagram are the same two that appear in K'uei, OPPOSITION (38), that is,

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-90731024290474647842008-06-23T22:59:00.000+07:002008-06-23T23:07:29.562+07:00

I wonder about someone's decision. Staying a bit more in China? Longer? Or, moving on - out and about! - whatever it could mean... Enterprising? Relocating? Simply resuming the former frontier? Or contrastingly exploring the new frontier? Whilst on mine, the oracle keeps pointing - regardless the verses it refers - at persistence and perseverence for both link to progress, fortune or success.

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com429tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-68650905711462983582008-06-22T14:20:00.000+07:002008-06-22T14:22:05.227+07:00

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-4842947780850702342008-06-22T11:01:00.001+07:002008-06-22T11:09:16.055+07:00

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-12967667963755664612008-06-21T18:42:00.000+07:002008-06-21T18:43:44.509+07:00

1. SunriseSunrise.A foundation for progress.It is beneficial to persist.There is creative power, inspiration, or an idea, looking to become manifest. There may as yet be no direct road for realization, though. Persistence is necessary to realize it.(Changing lines are not relevant here, as there are too many.)Hexagram is changing to:36. Wounded BrightnessWounded brightness.Beneficial is laborious

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-10910981024631306032008-05-15T21:12:00.005+07:002008-05-30T17:17:44.683+07:00

Never mind how I ended up here (one of the Detainment Centre, Heathrow Airporrt, Terminal 3). But I just want to list down the people I brushed my shoulder with in that hellhole, before it is fading in my memory:- a young, good looking Turkish guy who was denied a student visa but i could clearly look why. he had lived in the UK for three years, studying, but his English is basic.he couldn't

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-54221762344382383642008-05-11T14:13:00.002+07:002009-11-25T02:12:11.536+07:00

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-27981391129887708672008-05-11T12:14:00.000+07:002008-05-11T12:25:53.425+07:00

I'm back to M/moonwater - the blog and the Chinese film festival. I've let myself to be constantly at the crux of different directions for almost the past four years. Now, I've settled. Here. Now. Expect not only a much more productive mind, but also one charged with a solid, focused sight to the future, no matter daunting and at times blurry it could be. I'm no more disillusioned by false hopes,

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1160899255442843482006-10-15T14:49:00.000+07:002006-11-14T11:40:48.843+07:00

Duende: A Journey to the Heart of Flamencoby Jason Webster Almost three months after I came back from China; two fiction books (Murakami's Sputnik Sweetheart and Mistry's A Fine Balance); an ounce of guilt of not writing anything worthwile on dance except a few proposals, I discovered a book which anchors on flamenco, and guided me through a whole new perpective of what I previously thought

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1156418631996468632006-08-24T18:18:00.000+07:002006-08-24T18:23:51.996+07:00

Why living this kind of life? and why China? I've got my own reasons, but let's first her what this guy's:Guangzhou, 22 February 1988The more obvious far-fetched analogy is this: my coming to China was another step in my attempt to find something I could do in life which did not have revolutionary purpose, my attempt to live without a revolutionary programme, discipline and enthusiasm. That is,

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1156418264546123132006-08-24T18:05:00.000+07:002006-08-24T18:17:44.570+07:00

Jinan, 15 May 1985 I like acting Chinese, and it is no use telling me that I'm not. Acting Chinese helps me, not just with the language, the day-to-day affairs, the bureaucracy and regulations. It also eases my mind enormously, keeps me in serious conversations, and nourishes my intellect far better than the curiousity that Nick's rap always arouses. It makes me feel at home. There was always a

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1156417531456972502006-08-24T18:01:00.000+07:002006-08-24T18:05:31.456+07:00

［reflection on being a foreigner/laowai in beijing - still borrowing the rambling of that writer whose name I forgot] 17 November 1984Why are foreigners so relentlessly solvent and so emotionally bankrupt, so selfish, so useless, so venal and backward, so ignorant and incurious? I know, of course, they are not all like this, and the ones who are simply helpless dumb animals in a foreign country

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1150678826383623222006-06-21T07:54:00.000+07:002006-08-24T17:57:15.936+07:00

[still quotation from the book whose title and author I forgot]Bell Tower Hotel, Xian, 22 May 1984Peking is a very different city from tthe pinched, yellow-caked, painfullly poor village I arrived in last January. Now it resembles Canton, It is very romantic: there was a young coouple pawing each other on the bus yesterday - oh, not very daring gropes, really, and she was obviously less into it

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1150678404145817942006-06-19T07:46:00.001+07:002008-06-22T08:12:30.814+07:00

Anshun, Guizhou, 1 March 1984Now here I'm afraid I must do a kind of passacaglia on xiang fa, or the well-worn grooves of thinking in the psychological landscape. I have with me a kind of China guide for the snide, supercilious, slightly footloose college student, purely fore information on which rules are bendable. It is full of this kind of crap, and manages to make China into a small place ful

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1145962970029619552006-04-25T17:56:00.000+07:002006-04-25T18:02:50.056+07:00

Budapest 31 December 1983And now I remember the song of the Gene like so much: 'what will it take - to whip you into shape - a broken heart - a broken heart - It can be arranged - it can be arranged'. Why then is this sense of waking up, of giving up, of abandoning all hope larger than life, always fresh and astonishing and not quite credible? why indeed? Enough of this self-pitiful self-hatred,

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1144392835711089722006-04-07T13:50:00.000+07:002006-04-07T13:53:55.720+07:00

pla•ton•ic /pltnIk; NAmE tn/ adj. (of a relationship) friendly but not involving sex: platonic love Their relationship is strictly platonic.de•sire /dIzaI(r)/ noun, verb noun 1 [C, U] ~ (for sth)| ~ (to do sth) a strong wish to have or do sth: a strong desire for power enough money to satisfy all your desires She felt an overwhelming desire to return home. (formal) I have no desire (= I do

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1144309325600588672006-04-06T14:19:00.000+07:002006-04-06T16:17:32.080+07:00

I'm happy.It has been a rather musical rich the past few weeks - as I seem to finally find a mate to just blurting out all the long-meant intention on exploring music in a much more cerebral way, moving far beyond the mainstream (read: MTV and the likes). I always meant to do it - especially in the last two years - but felt that I never got it right. In late 2002, I encountered a really

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1140167766677069252006-02-17T16:10:00.000+07:002006-02-17T16:21:06.516+07:00

"Only a fool would prefer to be actively achingly dangerously unhappy, rather than bored. And I am that class of fool" (martha gelhorn)"Which of us is happy in this world? which of us has her desire? or having it, is satisfied?" (thackeray, vanity fair)

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1138615974650686502006-01-30T17:02:00.000+07:002006-01-30T17:12:54.663+07:00

The year of the Fire Dog! It'd be a better economy (optimist), disaster remains around (the pesimist), it'll be beautifully foolish, or foolishly beautiful (the twisted optimist: moi!). Just when I kow-towed some friends, I heard someone celebrated it at Stadium (tired of being in Aceh, mon ami? pissed off being recently accused of 'running around naked' whilst according to your version, it's

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1131325000014410232006-01-04T13:10:00.000+07:002006-01-08T16:47:52.966+07:00

You commented anonymously to my Stadium review:wow...really brings back memories of Jak night life. I preferred Tanamur myself- more intimate in a way, and the girls there could actually pretend they had been dragged there by 'evil companions' (and perhaps some of them were; who can say?)Stadium, to me, has two strikes against it- first, it's owned by Tommy. second, with the fishbowl on lantai?

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1136178198848245422006-01-02T00:10:00.000+07:002006-01-04T18:23:11.836+07:00

But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirious of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1135845442518981492005-12-31T15:04:00.000+07:002006-01-04T18:24:15.113+07:00

"You need to open a small door and taking [sic!] a big decision. Be a small motherfucker." (jaime, via sms, 21 April 2005)

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1133778024993359092005-12-05T17:17:00.000+07:002005-12-18T14:18:06.280+07:00

2002: "if living is an art it is a strange one, an art of everything, and particularly of spirited pleasure. Its developed form would involve a number of qualities sewn together: intelligence, charm, good fortune, unforced virtue, along with wisdom, taste, knowledge, understanding, and the recognition of anguish and conflict as part of life. Wealth wouldn't be essential, but the intelligence to

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1131583146736972432005-11-10T07:33:00.000+07:002005-11-11T16:47:18.456+07:00

One year too late, as much as one year too soon for me. http://www.threeemperors.org.ukKangxi, Yongzheng and Qianlong at Royal Academy of Arts from 12 November 2005 to 17 April 2006.

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1130825377153743422005-11-01T12:48:00.000+07:002006-01-04T14:07:53.900+07:00

Somehow the realization that nothing was to be hoped for had a salutary effect upon me. For weeks and months, for years, in fact, all my life I had been looking forward to something happening, some intrinsic event that would alter my life, and now suddenly, inspired by the absolute hopelessness of everything. I felt relieved, felt as though a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. At

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1130474979841934242005-10-28T11:42:00.000+07:002005-10-28T11:55:55.536+07:00

I woke up in the morning, finding a flyer slipped under my apartment door. Beijing,the year is 2004, and the flyer is an advert on some new plastic surgery clinic. That is one of many ways you can greet the day here, the modern capital of the Middle Kingdom. Contemporary Beijingers seem to be obsessed with their looks – plastic surgery clinics mushrooming, penetrating even your private space.

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1113395661241213602005-10-17T19:25:00.000+07:002005-10-24T19:22:54.393+07:00

The closedown of Tanamur - once the Jakarta's institution for nightlife - despite its survival of passing its 30th birthday, leaves Stadium arguably the only one worthed taking over the crown for being the next, enduring Jakarta institution. At least, for now. But as the city changes so rapidly, so does everything. A recent revisit was a brief moment of reflection - of such a space that tells so

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1113136201649482082005-04-10T19:28:00.000+07:002005-10-25T11:34:42.673+07:00

Then. What it really takes from one to extremely move from the deed of love to the expression of hate? Or, is the difference between the two as thin as silk thread? Or, can one extreme feeling, for once, wraps around the other inside, like a closed mask? (love inside/hate or vice versa). Similar to Zhang Xianliang's protagonist in his Half Man is a Woman, "I love you that is why I can't stay on

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1108383838449282292005-02-21T20:53:00.000+07:002005-04-10T19:28:19.663+07:00

hate /het/verb, noun verb (not used in the progressive tenses) 1 to dislike sth very much: [vn] I hate spinach. I hate Monday mornings. I hate it when people cry. He hated it in France (did not like the life there). I hate the way she always criticizes me. [v -ing] She hates making mistakes. I hate coming home late. [v to inf] He hated to be away from his family. She's a person who hates to make

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1108032673675101082005-02-10T17:16:00.000+07:002005-02-10T17:51:13.676+07:00

Traffic miracles do happen in Jl. Hayam Wuruk, Kota/Glodok, Jakarta's Chinatown. I was marching along the sacred avenue, heading to some portion of the yummy dimsum (albeit limited selection) at the end of the journey, amazed that the street - used to be choke-a-bloc with cars on business hours and beyond, pollutions and what have you - was total clear. Only happens in Sincia, so the local,

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1107688213265219152005-02-07T19:03:00.000+07:002005-02-12T14:13:19.066+07:00

the nightclub/kitsch, greenish floor/tacky walls/long alley, smoky/up, then down into the dark, foggy/'mamas' linger around/the crest-shaped bar/their girls, waiting/preying/prowling/whilst/on the dancefloor/sea of house-brand mineral water bottles/shaken by techzak music/order of the night/from behind the deck/all nocturnals brush shoulders/mingle/stone-/zombie-like creatures/join choruses in

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10276668.post-1106223504072215902005-01-22T18:09:00.000+07:002005-01-22T17:53:00.400+07:00

Whatever. Here I am, writing my own blog. Don't smirk for those I know well enough, who have been so much into this ahead of me, and probably wonder why I had been not attempted to join the bunch until now. The naked truth is, I so long for that old, now sadly gone habit, of emailing (and getting emails from) a handful of you on such (albeit randomly) frequent basis, in which we lavished our

Puccahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09045385634946516615noreply@blogger.com1