Farewell November

In a digital era, the human connection has became so transient - on the other hand, it joins people from all sort of directions. When Teen Suicide's Haunt Me ( x 3 ) played arbitrarily at 1:30am and keep switching between it and Bob Dylan - I know that you are in. As if the music is in the air.

Apart from picking up on writing, I picked up on drawing again. This is something I have not initiated since graduating from Goldsmiths - I was very anxious before even picking up pencils/paintbrushes, because every time my mind will come up so many questions - How come it is so important? What does it represents? Why am I doing this? What is the point of this? On one hand I was very broken by the academic training, on the other hand, I miss the time in schools, when one was exposed to avalanches of ideas, discourses and terminology (i.e. those clever words). I submerged myself in the vast sea of notion. I miss this very feeling that when you are completely drowned in the euphoria of the realisation of gaining knowledge.

This week is all about this mini crisis, I spoke to A; my long-term protégé; who helped me to see things in a clearer level. Or perhaps without the institution, I can still learn by myself. Maybe the element I was looking for, I already have them in me. Now all I need is stop questioning/doubting myself prior taking up on drawing/conceptualising and let creativity flows. Like now the way that I am writing, doesn't matter, now all I need is stop worrying all the grammatical mistakes and just express. Maybe when the more I let go, the more chance I am able to answer/response to all these dialectical questions? I do not know now, yet I am content that I am inspired and introduced to discipline/routine in my daily life apart from a 9-5 job, for instance regular fitness, social lives, walking, reading, music and more. Like A said, this is the exciting time and I ought to take them one at the time. Not all. They will eventually come together and start making sense. (I guess I am no longer 16 and need to have a sense of prioritisation.)

Whenever I think about relationships; without sounding pessimistic, I was somehow reminded by Murakami's Sputnik Sweetheart (1999) perceiving when two individuals met and shared some sort of intimacy either on physical or spiritual level. They are like two lonely satellites, each of them have their own separate orbits, in one's span of life, yet both of them somehow crossed their path, together on the same route for certain period of time:

“And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing.”

― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

I no longer recalled where I found this from, but tonight when I was working on some research. This screenshot came out from my archive (amongst lots of messy file names). Yes, there we are. InDesign, right tool box - the function of 'Pathfinder' might give me some sort of consolation this very long night.

It's almost 3am now, are you still there?