Plays after plays I see them on stage, while I sit quietly in the audience. My buttocks hurt, the benches aren't cushioned and it is cramped up in this Pit. I smell the woman next to me, she is wearing black. We're in a vault, the trains running above us. The spotlight bounces off of her face and I wonder if one day the ceiling would give way and the train would slip through the cracks. The stage is small, very small. I suppose I wouldn't pay to be here though it isn't half bad. A place that catches one's attention, yes, underneath the Underground, but the plays... Maybe I'd just explore the bar next time, with him. I didn't pay today, no, I was invited by my flatmates, extra tickets because a friend bailed: hoes before bros. But I don't know him.
On going on night walks through this city I know not well enough to describe: The bridges, so many to choose from, all within a walking range from where I am and will be for a few months more. With who, that is the question? But it is out of the question. In the night when the wind blows, only behind doors will I feel satisfied. Those strolls that I have taken after dark with another I know not well enough to speak of, they still bother me. The possibilities that they lay bear before me-- endless. How many days and how many nights and how many of them could there be if-- only if. I don't suppose I'll ever forget a name like that. I still buy grapes every time I visit the supermarket.
"爱在月光下完美"
I listen to Jay more and more these days, though I replay the same old songs that I loved and love. Should I venture more into the world of Mandarin pop? There certainly is no harm in doing so as my mind is already as corrupted as the regrets that inspire their work. Maybe I'm just afraid of finding disappointment in that world.
The emotions are strong this evening. I look at the bus ticket that has been pinned up since Monday and the crooked crosses marking down the days to the Friday I would leave this town until the next Monday morning. I'd say I'm going home but home is far away but it feels like home to me and I feel at home: I know the smell, I love its scent and I love the people there who trust me with their keys, dog and son.
0004: "Do you want Domino's?"
Supper. It reminds me of my nights in Malaysia, the months I refused to go home because of sheer stubbornness and pride. Arabic food, Mamak food and that one unfortunate time at that Korean bar with alcoholics who wanted to play a drinking game. My African brother needs to join me in this part of the world.
0025: There is no reply.
Off, off, I go. Glittery eyes, but puffy.
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