作為一個唔係好信，但成日上教會，身邊又好多so called “弟兄姐妹" 的我，有時都聽到啲野幾得意，但又有口難言唔係好敢同佢地講的。學仆你個臭街保羅講齋，知道唔但代表要絆倒人的。
有一天，我手機的某D Whatsapp 群組 (是，我都有的。Block唔囇的。)– 一個基基教師+黃絲分享新聞區的地方– 一個一直都充滿正義感 (或佢自己覺得自己好有正義感)的老師有感中共的霸道，在Group 內有如此的祈禱 —
Great ! I love this prayer so much! 原因是其實祈禱的本質其實是 「神呀! 求你令大陸共產黨員，上至習近平，下至成龍，一個二個全部冚家鏟。呢個禱告是奉耶穌基督的名，In the name of my lord Jesus, Just kill them all. Fucking kill them all for fuck sake. Amen.」 妙到毫癲，更比日日祈禱希望第三次世界大戰的院友/戰友/筆友/網友目標更準確。大家都是思考懶散之餘，已是此界別的成功由普通化療進化至標把療法，A small step for those lazy m’thfuckers, a big step for the humanity。
但這樣的祈禱有點粗口。曾經一個牧師同我講過，祈禱當然可以講粗口，因為舊約的先知，如撇開聖經集者的潤飾，其實就是日日向神屌某某老母，向神祝某某死無全屍。其實咁樣不錯。我曾經上班有個一條閪客，我都每晚睡前說︰「神，真是可以祈禱的，就求你即刻殺左佢，方法你揀。」最近被人公審的那位女士，亦只因為其他人死撚曬，死淨佢老公，講了句 Thank God，死的唔係我老公，Well Done to you my fucking buddy God. Well Done to your favouritism. To hell to all those heathens. 佢冇咁講，唔好屈佢。等如上黃大仙的，好多都求富的，求自己家財滿屋，冇話過求人聽朝乞食。求自己搵到份好工，考試大步跨過，都冇話想其他candidates 仆街身亡。No, they never mean that when they pray. Or…..they never confess they are implicit about that when they pray. 喂! 零和遊戲規則下，你掂，即係要其他人唔掂喎! 冇「唔係的，可以人人都掂的」呢回事啦。叫你立多5%稅，等隔離屋個獨居阿伯，臨死前唔好孤零零一個，可以叫番一兩次雞你都牙痛咁聲啦…
所以，祈禱，在大部分的時間下，都令自己日日覺得信仰令我更完善的人進入無可逃避的道德弔詭當中。除非…有信仰的人拋開這個假設，而進入真誠面對自己信仰基礎的大自在。其他宗教唔知，基督信仰，或許，並不是很聖潔。或，聖唔聖潔，同信唔信仰，關係沒想像的直接。我曾經都做過下青年導師。有一個女仔曾在我講摩西五經時問我，點解神成日要人滅人族咁殘忍。我當時答唔到佢，或都今日得。因為，神冇叫過信眾唔殘忍，這不是教旨。舊約聖經，本反映著人生大道理，對敵人有義，就是對自己殘忍的大道理。舊約的六成篇幅都講以色列人好慘。正因為神在頭頭叫他們把鄰居殺過冚家鏟，他們卻不守大戒 –要殺人娛己。到了新約，彼德見對夫婦唔繳全費membership fee，都是叫「咁你去死啦屌你。」拋開這個懷抱的以色列人，現在就是這般大自在。個地我圈左，走過來我殺無郝。So, don’t blame the Jews you bloody Antisemitic Corbynistas. They are just doing what their God fucking told them all along. God bless those who walk on the centre of the road He gave them, not left nor right.
撒母耳記上最精彩的是個白痴掃羅想殺盧DAVID真是真人上陣，仲走入人地個穴內。盧DAVID只是用刀割了他的衫，並對佢說︰「神本叫我殺你，我罪惡深重，愛你多於愛神下不了手。」看呀，要行仁，和行淫一樣，是悖逆天意的。是罪的一部分。我很喜歡這段。I have to be bad to love you. You know how I love you. Wherefore do you not do me reciprocally? And Saul said, now I know how you love me. Sorry, I hurt you. Please don’t hurt my family in the name of our god.
Last article was about how hopeless I feel about myself and my future.
Son’s curricular in school is getting more and more difficult. And I can see how he’s been struggling, and wrestling about them.
I, time to time, speak to myself about it. I like to create multiple characters in my head to speak with myself. Like debating. It’s cool. At least it’s safe. At least when one of the characters I created speaks to me like, “I wish you gang raped by your enemies, you sucker", I won’t get pissed. Even I get pissed, I am still conscious that it’s just monologue, and I’ll have no way to kill the guy who spoke to me like that, who is me. (If we kill ourselves, we don’t say kill, we say committing suicide).
So, I, time to time, speak to myself, “maybe after a year or so, he will thrive instead of strive. Maybe he will get better a year or so." But my another character pops in, “hey, if you, as a father, keeps being so lax doing nothing to change it, you should not hope your son is going to get better a year or so. No pain no gain. It’s not even a rock science is it, you sucker!?"
Then my third character pops in to interrupt, “you mean I cannot wait? You mean if I get up and do something, I can change anything in this world? You know why people now pray for WWIII? Because we fully know we can’t change fucking nothing! If you say ones feel hopeless, feel futile to do anything that can make things better, because there’s no way to make things better, are suckers, yeah then I fucking am! To pretend ones can change anything while he knows he doesn’t have that faith, or proof, or neither, it’s hypocrite man…"
But then I read Ta-Nehisi Coates. I listen to the interview with Emma Gonzales,
I’ve got a feeling, that, maybe, we can really change something. But we’ve got to wait. To wait for a time, when people are more inclined to listen to what I say. We need a mass. We need a time. And we need to wait. Maybe, waiting and doing are not intercontradictory. Maybe we need to do both. At the same time.
I really like Stand Up. Recently there is Season Two of the Stand Ups released on Netflix. I love it. And I love the following Stand Up as well
Stand Up is a job that one gets up, and think of all the shit about oneself, and people, and she/he waits for the night, and have people pay for getting inside, to let she/he tells all the shit to them. And they even laugh about it. Just like what I do here. I hope. I need to wait.
I recently read a thread on facebook, a friend post a song and tag “please play it in my funeral"
Man, I can’t wait. Funeral is definitely not the thing I can wait. It must be there when I am already not there. So, I can’t wait. Play to me now. Man.
This is one of the worst titles I have ever written, because it is full of errors, or inaccuracies. First, this is about one place only – Melbourne, while the city I used to sojourn “a couple of years" ago is Sydney. People who’ve been those two cities know that they are so different that they can’t compare, as you just can’t compare Beijing with Shanghai; San Francisco with Los Angeles; New York with Atlanta……But it is exactly what this piece of article is trying to do – to compare, or collate, my experience in Melbourne just now with my memories of what I used to experience in Sydney “a couple of years" ago. And by “a couple of years" I mean 2002, a fucking decade and a half!
Absurd isn’t it? Yeah, it is. So are my other articles here in WordPress. I have to confess I am quite an absurd guy. Not weird, like Thom Yorkesque weird. Just absurd, clumsily solilocutorily absurd. So here we go.
One of the clumsy ways I experienced Australia, again, was that I lost my precious thing, again. “A couple of years" ago my laptop was “lost" (or burgled, which is more correct) in my room in Baxter Hall during my Easter holiday. This time, I literally lost my glasses on Day Two of my trip. All I got for my sight for the remaining days in Melbourne were my RayBan. It thus added to my experience of Melbourne a tinge of darkness (or blindness, considering my over 900+ myopia and the power of RayBan the two words meant pretty much the same to me). So I was nearly blind in the night there. But my Aussie mentality kicked in during the trip, that something good will come out of my shit somehow. “A couple of years" ago I lost my laptop, because of that I was forced to walk out of my laptop, my Hong Kong way of viewing everything; to walk out of my figuratively locked room, to really meet Australians, and Australia; to learn music other than shitty cantopop and mandopop; to learn to love a place that I have since then been loving nonstop no matter what. To love her exactly what she is and who she is. So when my friend in the trip told me he didn’t like Australians because he felt they were not particularly helpful (he compared with what he experienced in Japan!), I just said, chilly, “they are actually quite helpful in their own way."
I mean it. They are actually quite helpful in their own way. It depends on how you define “helpful". They are definitely not Japanes helpful. On the other hand, they don’t find Japanese helpful really helpful. They may even find that way a nuisance. As I do. They, or we, believe that if you are not dumb, you should have your way of sorting things out. And they, or we, think that sticking their, or our, noses to “help" people sort out things their, or our, way is rather intrusive than helpful. If you really need help, just say it, give them, or us, justifications, they, or we, will consider the situation and tell you whether they, or we, can help. IF they, or we, don’t think it is possible, they, or we, will just say no. No grudge, no mischief. Simple.
One of the reasons I love Australia is the Sun. And good ol’ mate still stays the same. Super bright. Super strong. Super warm. So strong that it took a bit of getting used to even with my RayBan. That’s how strong he is. A game changer. We Hongie don’t feel the same way about the Sun. It is hot most of the year no matter he is shiny or not. Day or night. The Sun is different in Australia. You can feel the energy and power of the Sun, especially in the morning. It’s a hard Sun there. It’s a “God steps on the dark water and says ‘I want light’, and the light appears, and He thinks it’s good. This is Day One" kind of Sun. The raw beauty of the Sun.
But it does change a lot. It is strange that when I sat on tram stop bench waiting for free tram, I overheard a lot of different accents, and even languages: Indian, Malaysian, Chinese, French, Russian, Greek, Japanese. It’s definitely not that way I used to experience Australia. It used to be only one way of speaking in Australia. And that’s English, a white way of speaking and listening to English. No alternative. You, or I, had to learn that way, or no way of getting people to know what you, or I, wanted to express and convey. The bad ol’ day. No more now as far as I am concerned in this trip. My wife, and my friends, found it so easy to communicate with people there in Hongie English. And I felt comfortable let them do the speaking thing (one of the reasons is that my English is not any better). It’s hard to imagine “a couple of years" ago! In this sense, Australia did change a lot. They become more adaptive to the contemporary world. They are getting more multicultural, a word I used to hear a lot of times in my courses in Uni NSW but I didn’t really understand as they didn’t act that way. Or they actually did act that way just I couldn’t feel it. But now, “a couple of years" later, I can really feel it.
I did change a lot as well. RayBan helped me step one step backwards to look at things, as I am already so used to in Hong Kong even with my ordinary glasses. Day two I had to took my children to ArtPlay in Burrarung Marr. I had to be my son’s company. A couple of children took a short lecture about bringing insects back to city, and they were tasked with adding their art to pre-fab city model with whatever materials (there were loads of them) they were provided, so that insects would come back to city. The art teacher asked me what I felt about the work. And I told her as an urban planner I felt the cris-crossing of chaos and ideas is the best for a city. And she was impressive what I said as if I truly meant it and I were truly proud of my job. I didn’t mean it. I hate my job actually madam. Comedy Festival is now still on in Federation Square, so let me tell you a joke. As an urban planner in Hong Kong, we, or just I, fully know what people don’t want. They don’t want change. They’d rather be stuck in the fucking status quo for quid pro quo. At best, they just want something that appears to be different, while their life stay the fucking same. Why? it’s because we are living in a shithole named Hong Kong. But it’s Ok, mate, living in a shithole. It takes a little bit of getting used to to stay thriving and bustling in a shithole. You know. our odour sense gets numb of any stimulus, even stink like sick and shit, when both we, and the shit (that’s part of we mate), stay stale and stable for enough time. Yeah, it’s hell to live in shithole. But you know what is worse? It’s when you try to stir the shit we are living in, and the stink suck in the air and ferments to give a double whoopa whammy stink all over again, to give you a new, and stronger, stink. That would be double in hell. That we call “change". So don’t change. Please don’t fucking change. We can’t stand it. We rather stay the same. We can bear.
I did change a lot now. I used to be students, who need to blend in with an alien community to get things work, get things done. I then need to be immersed. Need to be in the gang with my peer. But now. I work. I have family. I need a familiar community to get things done. I don’t need something foreign. Or I want something different. But change, as drug, as coffee, even Melbourne one, a strong and dry one, don’t work. It recalls my memory of arriving Melbourne on Good Friday, in Flagstaff Garden. I met a group of Japanese immigrants having BBQ in the park, speaking Jap, and having their Jap way of life (You can tell from the food and drink they were having then). Even I emigrated, I would be just like them. That would be the only way that works for immigrants. It recalls my memory on last day taking back my children to Burrarung Marr to play swing. I pushed my son on a swing, and a Jap man pushing his girl on the next swing. Both of us spoke with our children, our own ways. It recalls my memory of my only Jap friend in Uni NSW (male one). We communicated in English. One day I kept saying thing on the way. He suddenly felt so unhappy, said he thought he should go, alone. It must be about English, my Hongie way of saying things in English, and his Jap way of taking in things I said in English. He never tells me why. And I never know. We never talk since then. Still lunch together. But never talk ever. And I left. And then I don’t know where he is. And I saw that Jap man with his girl on the swing. I told myself, it would be better if we keep this our ways, speaking our languages, rather than in English. Truly Aussie English. Chill out. No deep talk. No delicacy. Always playful. Always Aussie way of humour. Always a tinge of sunshine. And all would be fine.
Better stay the same. Better our own way. I’d better leave. Good Ol’ saying. We better leave the one we love. So much that we have to leave, so much we don’t ever have grief and distaste, as I would definitely develop if I could live in Australia, but staying forever in Belgrave with spiders and the old train. I’d better stay in Hong Kong forever. A place I hate so much that I can stay. I can bear hating more a place I have already hated so much. I can bear. But I can’t bear one day I may hate this place. Australia. I can’t bear simply. Goodbye mate. Goodbye.
This is the extension of my last post (or last last post, anyway). Ricky Gervais, it is the first time I saw his stand up. I don’t know why I’ve been bombed with comedy shows and standups in my Netflix….I expected to have Netflix and Chill!!!! You know what chill is!!!!!! I supposedly got fed a lot of boobs!!!! Watching a lot of middle age men standing up doing fucking jokes definitely does count one.
Anyway….I love comedy show. Rick’s style did recall my first memory of watching Dayo Wong when I was very very young, in Asia TV, which already died. (A dead dog resurrected one day as a cat is not a resurrection! You know what I mean). Very dark and very funny. With a lot of explicit contents. He spent nearly a quarter of his time telling my sickly Twitter interaction has been. But it doesn’t mean we have to cut it off. Getting on MTR every day is sickening as well. You know what I mean. Having had a world class funny man say “唔鍾意咪撚fo" verbatim in English was something, to me, a guy who are addicted to it for quite some time.
Hope anyone would enjoy.
PS. Netflix, if you do hear, please send me some boobs as well. I really love boobs. I do.
It’s one of the heart bending, heart warmingly hilarious though, stories I read in this Magazine. First, I have to prostrate for the power Twitter got!!! converting a deadpan family grown Westboro follower, with knock-on domino effect on the family members around her, Phelps-Ropers’, the queen bee of the whole community!!!!!
Thine kingdom, Thine power, Thine glory, for ever, Amen!!!!!!
And the girl found true love through twitter conversation! And she even dreamed of the boy who may or may not exist!!!! And finally get together, like 張翠山 and 殷素素!!!!! What the Eff!!!!! A love story that starts well and ends well, through Twitter. The second case as far as I am concerned!!!!
Yeah….it’s fascinating to be there sometimes. That calls back my memory when I first set up an account there, meeting people there I felt so strange, and so wonderful, at the time. Surely there is something in it. Its getting more toxic day by day cannot nullify my very memory about back then.
Abihbot – I used to long for being a kind of him, debating and discussing with the guys whose belief I cannot even understand, or can feel nothing but disdain, while keeping a courty friendship online. But I failed quite many times to do that. So I stop longing for it for so long. The reasons may be (1) I am not as knowledgeable as Abihbot; and (2) I am just as idiot as an average Twitizen in attitude and choice of words when I discuss with people. Surely I should have said a lot of things that hurt people there.
So I say, I hate you, but it’s fine coz I hate you as much as I hate myself. That can even count as love, if you know what I mean.
Still. I am not trying to be full of myself, that I can give you insights about what I learnt from the passage. I only share funny thing. And this article surely is one of a kind. I don’t pretend to know anything. Because I really don’t know.
The only last thing I want to say, don’t choose life that comes after, because we never be sure if there is one. Don’t choose life that came before, because it’s gone. Choose present. That is life, the only thing we’ve got. Viva la Gloria
Nothing to add. I told what I wanted to tell about the drama series in title already.
I used to write a lot of things about the book I was reading; about the movie I watched; about the newspaper/magazine articles I was reading, or thinking; a sitcom I was watching. I wrote as though I know a lot of things. Pompous, absolute like those nerdies who imagine themselves among the elite, among the intellectual people. Stupid eh? Yeah, used to be one of those nerdies.
But I realize I’m not a nerdy. Or, put it this way: I can’t excel and exalt myself even among the nerdies. An aboslute failure! So, I hate to be that person, or persona. If I have to be an ordinary man, I’d rather being an ordinary man in the universe of ordinary men, rather than being an ordinary man in the universe of outcast. Like a pity guy being ostracised by those already been ostracised!
As an ordinary man in the ordinary universe, I say nothing. I just say I don’t know what I was watching. But I have paid (for USD50) so I will keep on watching.
The only things I crave for every episode I watched, were the ending songs. They’ve been very good as long as I have watched (i.e. halfway). This is one of those:
大概五六年後，我將會把這部沒有video拍攝功能，另置鏡頭又撚貴，個叉電座又神神地鬆鬆地的機送給另一個人，而自己買了非常輕便的sony RX100 III，又冇鏡頭換又唔係特別輕，但黑暗環境的拍攝質素卻是非常impressive。我又再次到海洋公園試機。今次我的心態轉了，再下苦功，進步都不會很大，還是求鳩期，加個lightroom plan，憑後天修補可以自我滿足罷了。
所以我從來都說，我不夠喜歡音樂。我真的認為甚麼旋律、base track甚麼的全不重要。音樂沒有世界大同，只有有你冇我。rule of thumb 1：你老豆老母鍾意乜音樂，絕對唔可以鍾意。rule of thumb 2：甚麼最經典金曲，絕對不可鍾意，即使是Dolores O’Riordan （所以我真係一聲都唔出）。rule of thumb 3：milk雜誌話最正唱片，絕對唔可以鍾意，多少張推介的頂級大碟，全部拿筆mark彽，唾棄之，搞掂。rule of thumb 4：人人都話難聽的，即使真的是張如城和軟雪糕，偏偏嘗試去鍾意；人人都話好感動的，絕對不能去碰。那個人自然型到不得了。音樂﹐不是為了享受。相反，聽音樂就是不可以享受。那才可以always wee bit different, always wee bit defiant, always inch away from your comfort zone, to make it sound bad, to make it sound better.
P.S. 但正如我上面講，千萬不要聽人給你的推介，一推介了就不型吧。很矛盾。很1999吧。yes. Because it is.
P.P.S. I love YaKeala so much…
無錯。諗住去unplug的地方就是北海道。札幌食隱世小店拉麵，旭川唔知乜野山的風呂用google translate 同老闆娘溝通，到富良野一片花海和大陸港豚餵草泥馬嘈喧巴閉。。。
洗滌心靈與否很難答。但對每日都活在air quality index超標的港漂，藍藍的天和新鮮的風，確係洗滌肺部。日日食到好似要嘔出來直情是洗滌消化系統。但熱到30度的北海道，可否走去同美國攞舊冰入senate chamber問人 if you say there is warming what’s this的嗰位參議員講，
A bloody eighty degrees,
Fahrenheit, in somewhere over thirty fucking degree
North，if you say no such thing as global warming’s
I let you in, lecturing me what’s this
However bad the hell I stay
And get my head out, with my antenna, nose the hell out of it.
You stump, I breed
You pesticide, I dodge somewhere it can’t reach
You housetrap me, you poisbait me, I smart it out and get ahead
You rain with anything, I even fly with my ugly indecent wings.
To tell you, I come and go with you, and a billion years before you were born and after you die,
I am the only one who’ll win.
Tick tak tick tak. Clock is ticking. We are heading for 71, the First of July in 2017; or July First Twenty Seventeen –American way. And, we are going to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Hong Kong being a part of Chinese authority, with our President Xi Jing Ping.
Tell you what. Despite all my different pranks in this week in the name of #我愛你我的國 家 (i.e. I love you my country), it is sometimes true, and I mean what I say literally, sometimes. I like dreams, so do I talking about dreams. It has been so nice to hear of a president like Xi who is rejuvenate his country with the notion of “Chinese Dream". Yeah…it’s a plagiarism of “American Dream" but…you know…if the copyright owners have not litigated about theirs being infringed upon there is no infringement case, is there? It will be fascinating and inspiring when our President dares to dream; and encourages his people to be as audacious, to act on their dreams. It should be very powerful. It should be steaming. It should be skyrocking. It should be catapulting. It should be explosive full of possibilities and opportunities, from the western most mountains to the ocean in the east and south.
Dream is….without boundary, without oppression, without censorship of any kind, any religion, any political ideology, any ethnicity and social mores. How powerful, would it be that our President inspires all of us to act on our dreams. Last night, I went to APM, a big shopping mall in Kwun Tong, Hong Kong, China, to wait for my taxi as I usually do after work. When I saw the big promotion picture of Arimura Kasumi in SKII the cosmetic shop, I remembered I used to dream I would dare having an affair if it were for her. If there is one thing as Dream Incorrectness (D.I.) gone mad, it should be this, which would lead my life to devastation in the name of aphrodisiac! Act on dream, China. It should be Pragmatic Conscience (P.C.) gone mad, leading us to get back our ancient glory at the apex of our political and diplomatic power.
The best leaders always are the ones who are telling their own dreams, that resonate with the crowd of people whom they address. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, Nelson Mandela, Chairman Mao, JFK, Ronald Reagen, Steve Jobs, Gorby, President Barack Obama (I many times say proudly I cried shamelessly in MTR the first time I read his Victory Speech in 2008 about American Dreams), Bernie Saunders, Jesus Christ,…. my list seems short just because I don’t read a lot. But it will never be exhaustive. They all sell dreams that work for their crowd. The crowd of people, with exception, get inspired by the dream, and act on the dream together, crossing their own comfort zone and boundaries, to make changes, massive movement, massive something. It is because they find something beyond selves. That’s the power of dream.
Having said the above, our President Xi, like all great leaders, has been posing some philosophical challenge to me –at least, when he seemed to imply that “Chinese Dream" can only point to certain directions, rather than being radial, sporadic and amorphous. Or….I put it this way…..our President Xi’s version of dream, like any other things in China, has freedom, but within bound that we are all sure is there but can never be sure where it is exactly. It is exactly what they meant when David Remnick interviewed Ai Wei Wei in New York recently.
It tickled me when David asked Ai, “I know there are many limit Chinese should not cross. Democracy is one of those, so is earthquake in Sichuan….now Ai Wei Wei is now another one is it?" And Ai replied, “the power of Chinese oppression is that we all have guess that limit, while they never tell you where the limit is because they are always ready to change that limit." OKay. It basically means I am wrong. “Chinese Dream" is not amorphous and static. In stead, it has been very dynamic, like video games in PlayStation. But one thing is sure, the control is definitely in our President’s hands (it may be single noun if he is playing Wii).
In that podcast, I heard of many different dreams of different people in China. Mr. Ai Wei Wei dreams of having a China who can take responsibility for the victims in Wenchuan. He dreams of having a China who allows freedom of speech. The girl in NYU dreams of having a China who enshrines and embraces feminism and gay rights. She said many girls in China dreams of being Ivanka, being pretty as much as being free of having to choose an all-or-nothing choose between family and career. There are many other dreams in China. One girl dreams of having the allowance of breathing air free of carcinogenic pollutants. Workers in Foxconn may dream of having a toilet time unchecked, and having OT paid. I have a friend who always dream of China getting involved in World War III, so that there may be a glimpse of hope of having it defeated and having it getting rid of Hong Kong. Silly though, I think his dream is always his entitlement that I can judge but not crush. Liu Xiaobo had a dream, in his “I have no enemy", of having friends in the prison he was in for fucking 8 years until liver failure recently, only because he used to have a dream that China acknowledges what he wrote in his Constitution. Hong Kong Umbrella Movement was a spasmodic collective dream of a group of people who dreamed of having a China who could regard what was written in our mini Constitution, letting Hong Kong people have a real progress in democracy. Some ideologic ideotiques in Hong Kong have a dream of severing Hong Kong from China politically. Again. Frenetic, masturbation gone mad, Singaporean Dream (S.D.) gone mad, but they have 100% entitlement to their dream. I can judge, not crush. Ethnic minority in Tibet and East Turkijistan have dream of having equal rights with Han majority. Jailed human rights lawyers and journalists in China dream of having China honour the basic livelihood of ordinary people, and bare minimum of justice in front of abuse and corruption of Chinese officials and party camaraderie. I don’t like Mr. John Tsang. But his campaign for an election long decided was so impressive, esp. when he said, “I really hope people from all walks of live in Hong Kong come together, dream together, even for just one night." His way of giving his statement a stain of irony and dark humour did make me feel something.
It is even more ironic when I review their dreams, I am gobsmacked by the blur between dream, which is supposed to be audacious and boundless, and humble wish, and basic requirement of living in a civilised country. What Chinese have been dreaming, as far as I know, has shrunk into a bucket of wishing sticks in Wong Tai Sin because not only can we grasp the limit pre-set of our dream to keep us save, but also can’t we get what has been promised in Constitution, laws and other forms of agreements between us and our Government in Beijing.
I also have my dream. I dream of all people in China, having their wrap removed by that “Chinese Dream" so that they can get back their entitlement to dream of anything they want to dream. I dream of all people in China at least getting back the right to dream. I dream of all people in China really mean it when they say, “I am dreaming. Just dreaming." I dream I have no irony or sarcasm, when I say, “I so fucking love you my Country."