Detroit in Hibernation

It was 6 1/2 weeks ago that I flew into Detroit. I was sitting in the airplane watching all of Detroit sprawled beneath me as I was about to experience the miracle of colliding with Earth minus the explosion of bloody metal.

[side note:

i have a fascination with being in the air and reuniting with earth in a high-speed, potentially dangerous, splat-inducing method.

end note]

The whole of Detroit was beautifully dusted in white snow and I was stricken with awe. It was as if we were ants and a higher being had accidentally spilled some powdered sugar on us as they were confectionizing their french toast. It sugar-coated Detroit. The sight of it almost fooled me into thinking how lovely it was to return to Detroit in the winter.

So, now I'm on the ground again and less delusional about reality. Detroit...

is in hiberation: there is no life outside, just frigid bodies shivering in hurried strides across parking lots. The visible city is a rhythm of bodies running from one heat source to another. I salute the intrepid few who trek the landscape without heat in their cars. Might I also garner some admiration by mentioning I have been biking through this frozen city? (Of lately I've been bumming rides, but shhh.) I've been fish tailing on my bike! Think that's fun in a car? Ha!

Overall, the adjustment has been difficult, and the lack of contact with people is frustrating. Even when the weather is pleasant, I'm tired of cars and their constant separation of people. I want to bump into people again. I want it to be so crowded that I can see the pores on your face, trade skin cells with you, and think about how bad you smell, because at least then I would be interacting with you. Just because there is no conversation does not lessen the value of the interaction. I want to feel someone starring at me so I can stare at them so they avert their eyes to the floor, and continue this cycle until one of us gets off. I want to be so close to you on a motorcycle that I can reach out and tickle you, sending the intersection into mass chaos. Not that I would, but having that option is wonderful.

I just feel so god damn detached from the world.

Where is my mind?

(If I could)

I would clone myself, shrink my clone, inject it into my jugular, and send it to traverse the landscape of my brain, free to poke and prod and squish into convolutions in search of the Golden Nugget of Infinite Wisdom that usually take people entire lives to find. (I envision this to look like a video game from the 90's.) And when Mini-clone-me finds it, I would get rid of it. Mini-clone-me would exit my head via sneeze and I would take the Golden Nugget of Infinite Wisdom and swap it for something less grounded in reality. Let's say a Golden Nugget of Ridiculous Imagination. I would rather harbor a reckless and irresponsible imagination to rot my brain than a sensible, practical wisdom.

Essentially, I am exhausted from this package deal that life is turning out to be. I can't just have happiness. If I want happiness, I also need to get a job to give me money, an education to get a job, a job to pay for the education, and who doesn't get exhausted from the prospect of all that? I am trying not to sound like a whiny little shit, but I'm going through a phase that I'm anxious to get over with, and whining will help. I think.

Alright, I'm sick of myself now. More whining later, I promise.

Blows My Mind

BEHOLD

the artwork of Jonhson Tsang:
































The dinosaur is in the shape of a gun. Couldn't get a shot where you could tell. Sorry.


It is all ceramics. Yeah, so if you haven't shit your pants yet, you can now.

What I also enjoyed was that I did not put any effort into going to see his artwork. As we all know, I hate going to galleries. I was merely navigating through Hong Kong's subway system and while passing through a mall towards the exit, there was a "temporary gallery" in my path. It was basically a black box you walked into. It was so ingenious to bring the gallery to the people. Just fucking put it in the mall because the mall is where the people are. There were little kids and elderly alike gawking at this work and it was great to see such a variety of people appreciating artwork versus high-brows sipping on red wine and using words like "asthetically pleasing" instead of the refreshingly simple and all-encompassing "COOL!"

Currently, dragon fruit is my new obsession. It tastes like nothing. I think this is part of the appeal. I have to try really hard in order to taste it. And then it is wonderful.

Which brings me to my greatest concern upon my return to the United States:

WHY
the hell

DO WE NOT HAVE DRAGON FRUIT?
OR LYCHEE?
OR LONGNAN?
OR CUSTARD APPLE?
OR JACKFRUIT?

If you are reading this and you do not know what I'm talking about, then that attests to the piss poor fruit selection we have in the States. Unless you're in fucking California.

CUHK Fine Arts

This piece above is Cindy's piece. It is about global warming. There is a camera and a projector that projects live feed onto the floor. The camera is in one of the air-conditioner-esque boxes where she placed trees shapes casted in ice.

This is Sing's piece. Bad photo, but it's basically a conglomerate of mannequin parts, bedsheets, frames, wires and video. He's talking about dreams.

JAPANESE? *salivate*

Over a period of 4 days I have turned from "I don't like large quantities of raw fish" into

"
did you say
RAW
FISH?
i could eat
FIVE
MILLION.
"

It makes me want a pocket sized Jesus so I can pull him out and say:

Dear Jesus,
I would like to take this one fish and turn it into five million. Please, share with me this power. I promise to eat my vegetable and obey my parents and be nice to people.
Love, Angela

The pictures above capture the sheer gluttony in which I've been indulging in. Note the lack of recent pictures of myself. It is no coincidence. This Japanese place in Tai Po is a kitchen in the middle of the room, surrounded by a conveyor belt that you sit right in front of. I sat right in front of the cook dishing out new plates and putting it out on the belt. Right in front of me. You reach out, take a plate, eat sushi, and repeat the cycle until you realize you've spent a lot of money. The plates are color coded so you know how much it is. I'm going to take Curtis!

Tsim Sha Tsui

This is the first of many (who am I kidding? realistically, 5) photographs taken for my mother. I had a nice conversation with her and I am binded by daughtership to put in a sincere effort to share my experience with her. She really wants me to take pictures of the streets. She asks if I've been to certain places like Wan Chai. Ha. Do you think I should take a picture of the prostitutes on the street or the sleazy drunk men there?