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Catching up with brexit is fun

itunes.apple.com/hk/podcast/brexitcast/id1234185718

Brexitcast is absolute joy to me recently. I think, though I never can b a journalist considering my lame language, I always enjoy having time with a group of journalists, esp in a pub chatting setting, grinning knavery and tongue in cheek about how useless a group of politicians in doing their job.

I really enjoy katya Adler and esp Laura k. Quite different from my remain friends, I really admire her. At least she’s not from oxbridge is she?

廣告

我覺得真是威(鳩)喎!!!!

用了接近半年的時間,終於捱完好多人所謂的神劇 Twin Peaks。完了後我頭也不回的就咁送左盒DVD俾嗰個好鍾意睇Walking Dead、WestWorld、Game of Thrones (全部未睇過)等所謂精彩美劇的同事。今次我同自己對賭,好果他可以一個星期內唔還的,我會輸俾另一個自己100蚊。從那套劇的角度來說,我輸100蚊俾另一個自己,都是輸左錢,仲要一舊,會好肉痛的。雖然,其實我賬目上沒有輸過錢。

ON 99? 的而且確,套野就是咁撚ON99。而我居然捱完,真是要俾D掌聲自己。For whatever reason。

如果真是要形容下套野講乜鳩,我記起幾年前有套TVB劇叫  隔世追空。我一路看TWIN PEAKS,一路想起這套劇。我就這樣說吧︰Twin Peaks是一套英文版的隔世追兇,Plus:

1. 劇中所有人都講對白甩撚晒BEAT,林雪咁;

2. Writer到最後都唔知自己想搵到兇手定搵唔到兇手;

3. 取鏡+配樂+打燈達康城影展級;

4. 每一隻歌都揀過,非常搶耳,而大部分都極noise pop/synth pop;

5. 最想佢除衫嗰個Tammy偏偏唔除衫,最唔想佢除衫嗰個DIANA就除晒,SHIT;

6. 睇到最後個人除了鳩外根本沒有其他事可以形容。

有時我寧願看的真是TVB隔世追兇。或胸。至少看廣東話劇,佢寫ON9對白我唔用腦可以判別是ON9對白。看美劇,因為英文唔好,人物講完ON9對白,我個LOAD要LOAD下其實是咪真是ON9對白。到半年後,才有答案,全部是ON9對白。SHIT DOUBLE SHIT。

但唯一可取的可能是,一班人講美劇時,我可以講我看過TWIN PEAKS囉。但一問好唔好睇,就只可以話我真是唔知佢做乜。你不如俾100蚊我,等我還番俾另一個自己,因為我仲爭佢100蚊。

Old Movie is so 唔撚識串

8 days a week movie的圖片搜尋結果

Can’t say much about this movie because (1) I don’t know much about movie; (2) I don’t know much about music; (3) I don’t know much about Beatles; and (4) I don’t want to see one day on Twitter some idiots who know a lot about the above share my article for pejorative and sadistically cynical purposes. Like they did to my friend’s article on Medium.  Which I hate most about that space. It’s another kind of censorship.  Like school bullying smugs who mug someone and goes, “We have every right to do that to you idiot just because you are an idiot, y’know!!!! This is a fucking free country!!!" I hate that. I really hate that. So I also always say I don’t know. I just say something because I want to say what I like. Not because I know anything about it.

Just one thing. I used to read a lot of comments like “Paul McCartney is the brain of Beatles. John Lennon is the soul of Beatles. George Harrison is the heart of Beatles. Ringo Starr is ….. a drum." in discussion group like 高登

The only feeling I got from this documentary is so contrary to what they said above.  Rather, most of the songs Beatles made would have been pretty bland and mediocre if the drum were some ordinary drum rather than Ringo Starr.

 

That’s how good Ringo is.

What I learn from most of the music band is that. A drum is not a brain, a soul, a heart of anything. A band is like a racing car model. Drum is the engine in it.  You never see an engine except you are those engineer geeks. But how good, how powerful, how geniusly built an engine is determines how good your racing car is.  You can either be Ferrari F90, McClaren, or down to Ford Fiesta. It’s all about the engine.

Enjoy.

 

Something I introduce to you

If you have had experience of being a daddy, or mommy, here’s a good one for you.

 

https://www.netflix.com/browse/genre/83?jbv=80198635&jbp=0&jbr=0

It’s funny. Pain stuck in your ass funny. And a bit paranoid. A bit anxious. A bit helpless. A bit sarcastic. A bit cathartic.  And most of all. It’s depicting something true in our life. Every dad and mom feel, at a certain point of time, or like me, all the time, they suck. They failed. They fall shy of. They got beaten by their babies/children/dickheads like Hampshire batsmen got bowled by Stuart Broad.

This is a good one.

So as He Died with a Falafei in his Hand. A movie I watched in Australia. A movie made in Australia. And it’s awesome. Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrel kind of awesome.

我祈禱時可否講粗口?

英文唔好,所以呢啲題目都冇法唔「阿鬼你都係講番中文」。

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 —

「神呀! 求你賜下憐憫,為我們把邪惡的政權消滅。」

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.

總結,我不懂政治,更不懂宗教。純粹玩野,不要當真

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/04/16/will-pope-francis-cause-a-schism-in-the-catholic-church

Something gotta wait

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,

https://www.newyorker.com/podcast/the-new-yorker-radio-hour/emma-gonzalez-at-home-and-a-crown-prince-abroad

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

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p062kkw2

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.

Back to Australia, a Couple of Years Later

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.

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The Evil of Twitter

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.

https://www.netflix.com/watch/80189653?trackId=14170286&tctx=1%2C0%2C3f9ba10f-1bb2-42b3-8621-3b376721ff36-54538071

PS. Netflix, if you do hear, please send me some boobs as well. I really love boobs. I do.