| L O C K E D
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
| whispers: 44 echoes of the wind or whisper to me   |
| | On a somber note, I was watching excerpts from MJ's Memorial Service and was sobbing like crazy... The memorial was so sad. Kobe Bryant & Magic Johnson spoke too... Man I'm sad I'm still up here in Berkeley. Wish I could be back in LA already. Missed the Laker Parade(s), missed seeing this at home where at least I could watch it on TV... | | whispers: 2 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
|
"LOVE IS LIKE FARTING. YOU WAIT FOR THE RIGHT TIME AND PLACE BUT IT ALWAYS SURPRISES YOU AND EXPLODES IN YOUR FACE, LOUDLY."
- Me, like two minutes ago.
I suddenly thought of the quote when my roommate was listening to "Heart of Glass" by Blondie and I misheard it as "Heart of GAS." Call me a bad roommate but I couldn't help making farting noises and telling her I was expressing my love, while she was listening to depressing Sarah McLachlan music.... hahahahha
EDIT: LOVE IS ALSO LIKE EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA!! THE STRONGER IT IS THE MORE IT HURTS!!! | | whispers: 2 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
|
"In terms of beauty, I don't think any other basketball player will ever arrest my imagination quite like Kobe Bryant. W.H. Auden once bragged that he had composed in every known rhyme scheme and meter. Kobe Bryant makes the same claim with each bounce of the basketball. Last night he broke the defense down with haiku, tonight he's ballin' to the sound of sestina."
-Timothy Varner, sports analyst
| | whispers: whisper to me |
| Can anyone give me the links to good Chinese Yunjae fanfics?? (I prefer traditional but simplified is okay too ^^)
Or the websites of good Japanese Yunjae authors?
♥!!
| | whispers: whisper to me |
|
And if I could I'd set you in a box,
filled with air and hope, light things
on the wing of dreams and song,
send you away softly whispering
all my love and joy
good things, only good things
to keep you afloat.
I'll light a fire by the sea,
fire like gold and orange tangled hair,
living and dying fireflies, candles lifting,
buoyed by the wind holding you,
pushing you higher higher, and away--
And if the you I have let go, if only
you could go softly like that
gently like that, filled with
those good things
binding you like a summer breeze
I wouldn't hold on to you like this,
past midnight and a cold night's wind
promising me shelter.
Like a ship, you'll sail away, seek turmoil,
rough winds and rougher seas, no delicate box
and invisible locks
to protect you. You like to be tested, you like
the danger of not being able to come back.
The wideness of the world
holding the wind that cuts your cheek,
the constant shake-up of the ground you walk upon,
your sea ground, your home.
Same as thousands of years past,
endlessly we make journeys,
stepping onto a small ship forging ahead, the upheaval
of the seas forcing the tide. My captain, I'll brave the storm.
| | whispers: 2 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
|
Was planning on staying up all night to finish my paper I barely started researching for, and then prepare for my test, do my final presentation, not skip class and actually read & prepare the required articles, and throughout all this, not succumb to despair.
But of course, I just had to procrastinate even worse and check my flist.
Lo and behold, the first post is a picture of Yunho half-naked, with veins bulging out of his arms. You think I could just close my flist and not check the dbsg comm after that?
Yunho (and Jaejoong) are so sexualized in the Mirotic Concert photobook and while I admit I did enjoy the pictures sometimes it makes me uncomfortable how unnatural and exploitive those pictures are (I am not even going to go into how they exploited Jaejoong, especially in their earlier days...).
Honestly, it's the pictures of them being natural and not half-naked that I like the most. More than the naked pic of Yunho, it's this picture that really lifts me out of this crazy unhappy mood I've been in lately. That smile is what I'm in love with. So many different kinds of love in this world but I gotta save one kind for that smile.
| | whispers: 3 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| The largeness of life. The weight of expectation. The fear of failure. The impossibility of things. The little goings and comings, changes, the sweep of a knife. And you. You leave like a note unsaid.
Over and under, wisps of a breath of a ghost of a gentle breeze - touch me then go.
I'm so terrified of the future and I want you so badly I physically hurt. | | whispers: whisper to me |
|
I was so profoundly moved and happy when I watched SMAP's Tsuyoshi-san talked with DBSK.
( It was the closest to a hyung/dongsaeng relationship. )
DBSK is getting close... soon soon. It'll be interviews like that. More and more. Personal. Natural. Like in the Korean shows where the members personally know the hosts, and are their dongsaengs.
Which is why I like watching certain Japanese shows they're on. It's the struggle I like watching--a lot of times I cringe, close my eyes, grimace... at other times I feel so proud for how far they've gone--shown through their actions and only half-revealed in their words. This is much different from the Korean shows where they're so... for the lack of a better (or actual) word, "propagandized" as the kings of Korean music and exporting Korean culture. Every Korean show has to address that fact, even if they're close with the show hosts, even if there's that naturalness and intimacy. And in Japan they don't. (Though they do have to address the fact that DBSK are foreign artists in Japan.)
DBSK, I'm always always cheering for you. You guys make me so proud, always. Whenever anyone says, "even though I'm not a DBSK fan, they are so undeniably talented... I can understand why they've come so far and will go even further." I feel so proud, especially if non-fans say things like that.
It's the recognition of talent without the bias of being a fan, the recognition that they deserve everything, every hard-earned victory they got.
BTW, DBSK made another Guiness World Record! HALF A BILLION official pictures taken of them. In only FIVE years. THE MOST OF ANY ARTIST/CELEBRITY. Ever. This is not even counting fan/stalker pictures guys. OFFICIAL PICS. Like CFs, magazine shoots, photoalbums. Freaking, so proud. (It also kinda shows how much they've been worked to the ground in just five years... in comparison to other artists who've been around for like twenty years....)
After I wrote this I realized that it's been so long since I've written a DBSK love/spazz entry... just gotta say, I'M BACK!! (AND I NEVER LEFT!!) AND CATCHING UP ON ALL THE DBSK LURVE I MISSED WHEN I HAD TO CHOOSE SCHOOL OVER DBSK T__________________T
| | whispers: 3 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| The thing I love the most about learning Korean is that simple words hold magic for me in a way that's different from the old magic of words in English. I know its meaning, its usage, how it becomes beautiful, why the word moves me when it's in English. I want to say I have a certain mastery of understanding how it's used. But in Korean the words are newborn, blooming. The shape of it, the sound; the noun and adjective and verb somehow beautiful, like a reminder of the feeling, before it became associated with sound.
The reason why I was so hesitant about learning Korean was because it's been so long since I had to "start over" by learning a new language. It's been so long since I started Japanese that those times when I felt elation at "owning" a word and tucking it safe and sound into my brain, and copying song lyrics over and over barely understanding its meaning, just memorizing the beauty of the words, are whispery memories. Chinese, the language I've known even longer than English but less well, is perhaps, similar to my experience of learning Korean. The shape of each character, the symbolism and story behind it, the rising and falling slipsliding into each other like waves: The word was greater than its singular meaning; it was a symbol and a story and a feeling united. But I never had to struggle to understand what the meaning was. Maybe I didn't understand why it was beautiful, but I understood it, after being taught the grammar and vocabulary. And that is why Korean was scary, a struggle past an uninviting door. I couldn't see the end: my mastering of it.
The fear I have is that I lose other languages when I pick up another. The thing is, Language is a fickle lover, a fragile flower. Ignore it for too long, and it leaves you. Put it aside, and it dies. So how do you "own" several at a time when mastery is what you're aiming for? If I can't read the novels and poems and understand its beauty the door is only half-open. For me, fluency is not something easily won. It's time, sweat, tears, love and pain together, hurling you to victory.
I forgot that love and pain, that journey and struggle in. My eyes were only on the end.
But this time, this time I'll savor it. Remember, gently, the beauty of opening that hidden door. | | whispers: 11 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| Last night I met people named Storm and Icy and Rocky.
Then I dreamt.
Do you remember what I told you about dreams?
You don't have them, you don't see them
you only make them, consciously.
It is a child you give birth to, inside your head,
in Chinese. You remember?
Of course you do. That night, you said it.
You reminded
the me who wanted to forget
everything.
Last night
I dreamt.
You introduced me once to Shouhei.
There he was, in that dream. Someone
from the past was there, arms around me
hands touching, in the way we had once
touched each other. Shouhei's face
becomes your own. Your expression was
everything I wanted to you to be so I could
atone.
I dreamt.
The guilt is my shadow
is the wind whipping through the
trees on the hill
is that ghost in my dreams:
Shouhei. The baby I had twice,
one alive and one dead, because I
killed you, aborted you
threw you away from pride.
They all morph into one form of you.
Guilt is the common denominator
is my dreams is my hair is my skin.
I cover you up, powder and spray you
but I cannot renounce you. | | whispers: 1 echo of the wind or whisper to me |
|
I.
Push, he says. Just gonna do a little
push push push thereee you go.
Just three more...
You're doing great brave girl it seems
you've got a cankersore over here not
so bad right one more one more
one more...
Their voices flit in and flit out I flicker.
My heart flutters a strange beat. I cannot
show fear or pain so I
brush away
those small tears
laugh with embarrassment
tell myself
control your breathing
even your voice
don't let them be so nice to you
like this
it's too strange
this kindness.
She looks at me with too much kindness
sadness maybe something else I
do not want to name.
Well you know my daughter's twenty and I just
worry about her so much you don't see
your parents? Call her
every night... where's Berkeley
again? That's wonderful oh here sweety...
In a dream state I hold pain and no pain I flicker.
II.
Alarmed: it's two-forty-six am and I planned on
a full night's sleep before the appointment but
still my heart beats wide awake.
III.
A half-dream. Still awake.
The dark turns to light turns to morning
and four hours ago I thought I would sleep but
now here I am, shot through with a
bullet of realization.
I am whispering the words out loud with my
eyes closed
gently, softly
seeing blindly
his ghost beside me on the bed.
It's not you it's me. There was someone
last year who... I'm sorry
I'm sorry I'm so sorry
IV.
A month ago he tells me I have
never hurt anyone in my life. Then he
says I love you.
Why couldn't I have loved you?
These thoughts keep company in my bed
past dawn.
V.
The taste of blood.
A fast heartbeat. Slow nausea. Sleep claws inside
my head. The sun burns.
Dizzy the world
tilts into the pink horizon of my bed.
Keep awake until it stops bleeding.
Endure for another hour.
Don't sleep don't
sleep
don't sleep. Just
another hour another
month
another lie.
You're a brave girl she says. You're doing
great you have to face the truth sometime you know
tell him sleep control your breathing
taste of blood and lies you're lying sleep
the truth
So I flicker I shake I sleep.
| | whispers: whisper to me |
|
 ★ Happy holidays guys! :D I was gonna use that picture of Yunho taking his shirt off but I thought it'd be a little too sexy for the holiday banner hhahah ★ Lakers won against the Celtics today!! Wooo! :D Wish I could've been there... (Kobe!! ;__;) though I did go to the Staples Center a week ago to see... HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3 ON ICE HAHAHAH. It was like, seriously the most embarrassing moment of my life LOL. I had no idea what the hell HSM was about (and did not want to know either... kinda like how Twilight really embarrasses me) and then Sophia begs me to go and, GET THIS, bribes me with Korean barbeque. What a low blow. LOL Happy holidays guys!! :D | | whispers: 5 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| hello friend
you know it's freezing here where
I am the wind's a-blowing the house
down and it rains like firecrackers
like lightning bolts like the incessant
hum of that old fridge
when it's quiet
and dark.
writing here to say
I miss you
old friend
you know my thoughts
better than
I.
say old friend
tell me
how I should go
about this. you would know the
answer: she's playing the
piano music. sitting with the lights
down. glasses and jackets and scarves
all bundled on. tell her
how to handle the cold
how it burns and stays deep
how it returns with a vengeance
after warmth. | | whispers: whisper to me |
|
可是你不想一直走在黑暗地下道
想吹風想自由想要一起手牽手
去看海繞世界流浪
Yes, yes. This is how I want to live. And my second thought, god, I love the way it flows. I love the possibility of rhyme and rhythm. That's it. No more negativity. There are lots and lots of thoughts crowding inside my head I don't know how to speak and maybe it's a bad thing my pushing it away but no more details and littleness just the big picture the sky the night air in the city the color inside buses flashing lights and a crowd silent as he sings without a microphone nothing except his voice atop of his pedestal like a god.
goodnight, the sky the sky the swimming sea of lights
goodnight, i am safe in my cradle, the moon
floating in a forest, running through the shore
tidal waves up and coming, the moon, the moon
little stars and shy clouds
a feather falls down, goodnight
| | whispers: whisper to me |
|
One of my favorite pieces from So You Think You Can Dance. "The Hummingbird and the Flower."
I MISS DANCING THIS IS SO WONDERFUL. ;__________;!!!!!!! ahhasdkfasl;jd!!!!!!! also the song actually makes me want to rewatch the lulz that was Memoirs of a Geisha hahaha :D
Also I am sick. Was planning to go major shopping today with Trinh especially in this place in Haight but.... eh. Felt really bad because when I came back from San Fran yesterday (which was drizzling and foggy all day) I was really tired and sick feeling and just fell asleep on Masa and he left.
| | whispers: 11 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| Falling asleep inside the bus along
Market Street, his scent his arm
next to mine and I awake to his
hand pulling mine to get off the bus.
We don't let go:
inside the Halloween store,
screams of $100 plastic mummies
Jack Skellington masks and
geisha girl costumes.
I think he has been planning this
for a long time, same
as I.
But I can't say anything. My
heart is too full with a queer jumping
beat, happiness, screaming joy
mixed up into a ball cascading
with pumpkins, skeletons,
cheap hairy masks and
pirate costumes.
It is freezing so we
hold hands inside his jacket
pocket. Down Geary
past Kearny
at Clayton Washington Market
Post Grand Powell up and
over Chinatown my heart
is a boat is a balloon on a
swelling sea the tide comes
slipsliding over and you are
my anchor my steady heart
beat. Your wide fingers your
dry hand your thumb brushing
over mine.
In a graffitied back alley following tourist
groups in the freezing night we are
escaping and running red lights
taxi cabs drunken mobs,
the fog is rising up and over
glass buildings,
the dark is an adventure and mystery
it is us alone and you
make me happy
you say the words and I | | whispers: 8 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| Sneaking past don't enter's
in the second third level ballroom
floor of MLK where there's a
party with mariachi, the balcony
the staircase the night sky
the campanile
beacon sun houses on the hill
little stars. The most amazing
things have happened so soon
so soon
sneaking and bravery
let me live like this
I want to breathe in so deep
the air biting my knees a'knocking
the door to heaven and winter.
Your side profile in the dark with
little white lights
your beautiful crooked nose
the strong wind I am living
from the bay, I am alive I am
alive
if we could stay like this
before I get scared
I am so scared
let it be okay, this time
let this be
okay
I am trying to decide if I should go to the Murakami Haruki signing with Masa tomorrow in SF. It would mean three consecutive days of Murakami and Masa, of Masa and Murakami. I have a lot of work and studying I haven't done. Which should I choose. | | whispers: 6 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| He says he loves them. They are ordinary, boring
so he loves them. Their boring voices
their ordinary businessmenwomen lives.
I, too, start to love him. In the conscious process
of falling in love... he explains.
I fall in love. His voice,
his extraordinary explanation. It consumes him
for a year, this love affair.
In the process of consciously falling in love...
Why don't you become them. You can love them.
I become you. I speak you,
your voice, your queer speech
your shy loud gaze.
I can love you so easily.
There is a ring I wear on my finger that
chokes the base; the flower chokes
the stem. In a long away past before the end
of an era the samurai lives with
his fighting sword.
I am nothing with
out you. You are my sword,
the one blossom on the stem.
Become me.
Come, understand me,
love me in the way I can love you.
The plane of your life is an
open farming field:
Till past the lingering frost,
you will find me,
I believe in you.
I met Murakami Haruki today (technically yesterday since it is seven in the morning and I still have not slept) and then had an unofficial date-or-whatever-you-call-it with Masa. Tomorrow (technically today) I will met Murakami Haruki again, this time under legitimate means which will not include me sneaking into a closed forum/Q&A session with him. Masa really wanted to go to the Murakami talk tomorrow (technically today) even though tickets were way sold out but somehow, someone canceled and he got a ticket. What does this mean. Do I believe in things like karma and coincidence, unluck and fate?
I am confused and there a lot of random things floating in my head - a case of those whatchamacallits Luna likes to bat away - but words don't ever seem to make things come to justice. Murakami sensei talked about words and mother language - singular, only one, ever. It was all very natal and I was most interested in that. That, and his talk of loving the victims of the Aum cult attack. How he is learning to love his people after a lifetime of loving another. But my sentences are plain and formulaic. How understandable, how droll. What must I do to make his words come to the living. It would only be justice.
I am in a strange mood. Always am, this late at night (technically it is morning and light outside). I should be sleeping now and treating my body like a wonderland (John preaches it like it is), but not today. Not right now.
I wonder if I should take off my ring before going to sleep. Sometimes it is too tight. Sometimes it is too loose. In terms of falling asleep my butt has done more than I have since it last fell asleep on this couch. Treating it like a wonderland.
It is the end of week 7 and at last my entire Japanese class has come together. It is so easy to love someone, anyone. I could love any of them in the class, already do love them. This is why I am seeing the end already.
That is all. A last reminder: I need to get my hair cut. I should return those turqoise boots I bought. | | whispers: 2 echoes of the wind or whisper to me |
| |
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