Emotional Diet (Self Help II)

I am overweight with sentimentality

Anxiety, depression, frustration, melancholia stuff me fully. And loneliness—

that’s some extra packed in

In faded lights, a go-go boy sweats and earns

nobody recognizes anybody, all faces are vaguely figured

I am a regular, experienced and all too familiar

with rules of the game.

Jesus and Confucius offer different options, but I know I am different--

I want an alternative.

                   Outside of the box solution. 

                                                       To burn the fat of morbidity and

                                                       gain strength of merry-go-lucky.

The go-go boy asks me to draw something on his body

I outline a star on his right nipple, the crooked little shape around that dim pink Vesuvius

It’s my love for you, Stranger

Even though you know I’ve cheated myself, you know I would

I can sweat and earn—to love and be loved

 

No.1 Single (Self-Help I )

I I make efforts not to allow

drama disturb or damage my singlehood

Yes. No one. 

Villa 32, Home(town)coming

A seventeen hour trip to hometown was a metamorphosis

I wriggled out to flutter my years of colorful yet deceitful internationality

 

No need for verification. Folks were proud of me coz vanity mattered

We all knew we wanted fantasies, fairy tales, to salivate over and dream upon.

Pampered with indulgent demands

Spoiled with unconditional support

I gradually regressed to a toddler with biological Sugar Mommy and Daddy

They dressed me with that ruffled black gown and ornate choker

 

Stayed at the eleventh floor residence overlooking the extending and entangled urban wilderness

I first sighed and self pitied, feeling like Rapunzel

But I had no voice to attract the Prince nor golden stairs to escape

Where could I go in this city?

 

Even thousand miles away from home New York, confusion and depression still followed and haunted; the past and present intertwined physically but disconnected spiritually

I never realized how unhappy I had always been

 

Wandered around in a different concrete jungle I was possessed with disjointedness

 

A visit to the resort, Villa 32, surprisingly and finally exorcised that loosely figured demon

Soaking in their highly acid spring, named Jade, exfoliated my skin, 

purged my mind

Started to live and breathe the past and present; those things stopped to collide

Under the willow tree by the spring pond a rosy vision emerged from the underneath accompanied by my callus covered toes--

I smiled. 原來我並非不快樂

 

The indiscernible means red transformed into the pasture for peace and creativity

I felt like writing again

 

Hometown could be a getaway, a made shelter

During the metamorphosis return flight, it dawned on me--

我終於可以暢遊異國，放心吃喝

Villa 32 is my Tiffany 

Pink Notebook

In the frames we spoke Mandarin

But someone ourside made English comments

on our every move, things we saw, places we visited

the way we were

 

In a hot summer day we traveled to a tourist spot

You were cranky. I was worried

 

about your motif to dig out my secrets.

I kept all of them in my pink notebook.

 

I tightly held it to my chest while we wandered

to some observatory by cliff; the ocean was below, the mountain light rail nearby

 

Our conversation was mostly trivial, always—

we never really wanted to understand each other

 

No matter how loose our communications could be, you still pried

and at times tried to steal my notebook

 

I was frustrated and angry. I fought back your bullying

But I also wondered why my life still mattered to you

 

The train came and I rushed to it.

I clung at the last car with a leg out dangling

 

You started to chased after the train, cursed me to the hell, but I didn’t give a damn

I was elated

 

Suddenly the pink notebook slipped through my arms

It felt on the rail, rolled to the side, jumped from the cliff, dived in the ocean

 

I panicked. I felt being ripped open

My intestines gyrated in the air

 

I bobbed out of the train, climbed down the cliff, tried to rescue my pink notebook.

Bystanders and passengers were dumbstruck by my action; they gossiped, criticized, and preyed for my ruthless decision

 

I finally crawled to the rocks and I spotted my buoying notebook

It was serenely ensconced in the fluid rocking chair

 

I was happy knowing the book was within the reach

I jumped in and swam toward it

 

The water felt cold yet refreshing

The sun was bright. The air was crisp

 

Yet my pink notebook was gone

 

New Year Resolution

Under the quilt cover
I breathe and ponder--
Plan A/Plan B/Plan C/Plan D/Plan E/Plan F/Plan A/Plan C/Plan X/Plan A…………
Mind races/Panic attacks/Sleep fades

The past is an old dish
I chewed on it, sometimes, if necessary
I know I can spit it out if I want

The future speeds as a rush
I am addicted to such excitement, longing for uncertainty and planning
Whatever is about to happen always tastes better

I know, I am always
insatiable

Urbanite Demonstration

I am an individual.
All my life I am a city dweller and émigré. Cities create, nurture, transform me into who I am. I earn my fair share to speak out my opinions about urban and urbane lifestyles. They are biased, self-righteous, personal, honest and earnest.

My fellow urbanites, I suffer from the reality daily, but I have a dream for someday:

A. We are island souls. We live through everyday as zombies with I-pods and mummies with blackberries. We talk and text through our palm size gadgets. Easily we are connected to our respective universe. Surprisingly we are disconnected from each other.
Someday we will put down whatever we have in hands or at ears. We will smile at each other. We will connect directly through human interactions without any buffer electronics.

B. We make noise like porn stars. We feel entitled to our voice heard. We believe words are the most powerful and accessible weapon to declare who we are and our independence. We get into meaningless verbal fights with strangers. We snort at the idea of actions speak louder than words. We abuse words for the sake of communications.
Someday we will abandon our cynicism and sympathy votes confirming our own existence and independence. We will find peace and quietude.

C. We rush. To work, meetings, dates, coffee shops, restaurants, subway cars, public bathrooms, all kinds of social occasions and venues. We curse when we stumble. We misplace our frustration toward innocent others just because we can't get something or somewhere on time. We hate other people's rush but we rush whoever to demand them do whatever we want.
Someday we will find patience. And we will make efforts. We will realize it's not worthwhile attacking someone when landing on that damn C train.

D. We don't let go. We always remember those who once insult, cheat, and break our hearts. We use hatred and self-pity as Redbull. We mock our parents and siblings who still know nothing about us or even worse, misunderstand our choices for our lives. We feel ridiculous to defend ourselves against anyone with good intentions just because we want to get married with our same sex beloved and plan to adopt children or find surrogates. We are addicted to strangers' physical warmth with a vein hope that a beautiful relationship is developed. We are indeed lonely.
Someday we will realize forget is forgive. And forgive will make our life easier. We will acknowledge and understand our delightful lightness of being

E. We are racists. We are ageists. We are sexists. We are classists. We are superficialists. We have claustrophobia. We have homophobia. We have ghettophobia. We have gentriphobia. We have terrorphobia. We label. We enjoy labeling though it continues to deteriorate our own confusion and contradiction. We try to distinguish ourselves from others to help us find our identity, establish our support system, and feel belonged. But we are still lost, angry, anxious, frightened and we repeat doing the things from the points A to D.
Someday we will recognize human beings are just humans. We embrace each other for who we are. There will be no names and naming.

F. FUCK THOSE SHITS, WE ARE GAY!

Someday there will be no war; we all finally be gay.

Volver

Smoking a Camel Lights calms me

especially with two drags in a row

and take the Solgar Formula VM75 at the same time, for which--

turns my piss into meadow green

You are: about to wallow in the sybaritic splendor

Modern chemicals can be acerbic, for which--
I say goodbye but you say hello
Whoever leaves the party first should dance barefoot

You suck a juicy honeydew hollering sweet

I think it's time to take B-12, Folic Acid 800, and B-1

Your viscera contains syrupy fluid

I am: so ready to fall in the punch drunk love

Leading an ascetic life is half-baked

You say goodbye and I say hello