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calvint
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Name: Calvin
Gender: Male


Interests: Hangin out. Reading good, deep and heart-felt fiction(not trash, mind you). Psychology. Ethnic Studies (Asian Am. Studies) and gender studies, et al. Playin Ball. Watching the Simpsons and Family Guy. Intense Movies. Triumph the Insult Dog. Yao Ming watching. Jet Li movies. Mos Def. NBA Hangtime. The Roots. Marvin Gaye. Word of God. Canon S45. Traveling. Visiting friends in far-off countries. Spoken Word.
Expertise: Ha.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Nonprofit


Message: message me


Member Since: 3/17/2003

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Sunday, April 16, 2006

Crappity crappity crappity

Today, I feel like raising my monitor over my head and then sending it out the window.

came to work, logged on, ready to make some phone calls and do some important things--

when basically all my documents are just wiped out.

There ain't ish on my computer besides my ms programs and other poopies...

can't handle it, it ain't gonna make me saner.

Taxi ride took forever and a half.

Cabby told me he knew a quicker route.

I stiffed him on the cab fare and kicked the door open.

wrath baby, wrath...

-C


Monday, April 10, 2006

Sigh... I guess its back to xanga for me...

After a long haitus, and an attempt to get my website up... i think i'm going to simply count this as a failed experiment for my non-website building self--

Well xangans, what can i say, its not great to be back, but this time i'm going to come back for good.

We'll start posting some china pictures finally-- ha.

maybe.

feeling a little heart broken with no good reason, you know me, this is just the way i am.

maybe cuz I thinking about sad chinese songs, well, listening to them, letting them penetrate my stomach lining and get washed up in the bullshit i take in everyday, letting them purify my tracts , expel all the evil in my veins-- soak up a sense of a different type of life with simpler phrases, loves and lost.

 我写了一首诗

酬和

Its a plain of wheat this time
the moon shining brightly over us
With a 月亮的光
ran my hands through the aisles that surround me
i love the chaff but the wheat has such a sweet smell
i grab a handful of each and inhale deeply

i wonder if we are walking on the edge of damnation
i wonder if they can ever forgive us for what we have

we are the quinessential
what everyone has been searching for

it seems unfair
your heart beats so fast at moments like these
our hands clapsed and the wind curling your hair to your chin
your nape smells of sweetness and sweat
the palms of your hands are the coolness of onyx with the smoothness of jade
i am so lost
我不想回来了

you are too gentle
i try to make sure the eager winds do not misplace a hair on your shoulder
anything, ask, anything
i take my jacket to your bare shoulders
you take my shirt

you tell me that our bodies are earthly
we will rot in the ground,
we will make wheat
we will make chaff
土生土长的

i laugh and laugh
i take you and stare
these eyes are dark

i could never lie to you
when this heart stops hurting
i will never think of you again

i take solace in the tears you cry
maybe they are enough for both of us


Monday, January 23, 2006

Effin A,

worked out last night and woke up extremely tired and feeling badgered by all sorts of horrible things. At work today, twice i worked out a scenario where i was replaced and had to figure out how to survive in beijing. I almost thought about teaching english (shudder), but I'm not that desperate yet, goddamnit.

we live very temporal existances, i think that might be my reason for never being able to write a complete novel, short story or character, etc. It ends the moment i concieve of my character-- what's unique, wonderful and stupendous about them-- what sets them apart from everybody else, I carry them until birth, and then they immediately are dead to me. I can call myself a pro-life author: I'll never kill an idea when i'm carrying it, but once its born, I could careless about it and hope to never have to support it.

I leave them where I spawned them, orphans in the creative universe, swathed in my contempt for this world, floating floating into the deep expanse,the limitless void of imaginary wasteland occupied by mediocre authors, daydreamers and people who live lives of "quiet desperation"-- what haunts me is their hungry whining in the middle of the night, that pull me to go back and suckle them, trying my best to give life to my children who are gasping for air and whose stomachs have shrunk from malnutrition. They screech and cry, their voice boxes becoming scratched and deformed from the coarseness that comes from not having another means to survive. Yet they usually do not. I nearly always lose them, their tiny lungs contracting for the last time, my form long collapsed before their last breathe-- shit.

Can't write something for shit and my chinese classes are just starting. I'm going to be reminded of some other type of deficiency in my learning and once again, try to flee into familiar territory that can help me to maintain my loose grip on my existence.

Mental note: try to play golf on the weekends and don't waste my clubs.

C





Monday, January 16, 2006

I had some insights on xanga today, as I sit in my open cubicle and try not to fall asleep by typing in my xanga--

I have two basic types of entries-- one is the merciless rant, the other is the matter-of-fact day-to-day shlub kind of thing.

Without compiling data or being very specific-- which is pretty typical, i would say people generally enjoy entries which are more "diary-like", with that prying and voyeuristic feeling, so people can fantasize about my wonderful life, or perhaps me without my top off...

the other, of course, tends to be confrontational and angry in a way that most people don't either "get" or just don't like to read about. Two this end, I apologize absolutely none, mainly because its not going to make you want to read that stuff any more, and I also openly applaud myself for writing about stuff I care about, even though it might be pointless and retarded for the rest of the world. Well, there, I wrote about it, and everyone can kiss my braided anal hairs.

Having said that, here's my pandering-- please read me, please read me side:

I woke up slightly early this morning, mainly cuz my alarm clock is horrible and i perpetually worry about oversleeping-- which, I usually do.

This was good to wake up early, because, I slept like four hours, and for those who have or often do, waking up from four hours sleep is extremely disorienting, so it took me a couple minutes to walk to the kitchen, glance at my gas meter, and then turn my natural gas heater on. Another couple minutes to strip down in front of my north-facing window, for all of beijing to see my junk-- then i walk into the bathroom.

The overhead light is just not bright enough for me, so i installed a florescent light over the mirror-- it looks very... wierd, translucent, and reminiscent of the color of housing projects in movies-- eerie green with dirty looking white walls. I turn on the hot shower, holding the head over myself, cuz that's the best way to get that initial hotness. After I stop shivering from the change in body temperature, I put the head back on the rack and then start brushing my teeth. Somehow, the steam and the head help to create a refuge from the cold and from the foreigness of beijing.

The shower is done, I change slippers before I leave the bathroom, dutifullly making sure most of the water went down the open drain.

I dress in about five minutes tying my tie in the elevator down from the fourth floor. Its fast, and I get out the door, flying to my local breakfast place to grab a plastic bag full of xiao long bao, which are effing good and four kuai, fifty cents--, though i usually only eat half of a "palate" the bamboo things they steam them on.

I eat on the way to work, in the back of a taxi that smells of BO and hastily smoked cigarettes. I can't blame the guy, he's on a 24 hour shift and he doesn't eat breakfast. My bao are making him hungry, and I can tell because he lights up as soon as I open my plastic bag and chopstick those bad boys into my mouth.

The taxi takes mostly neccessary turns and I end up in front of my work place, which is only thirty minutes walking, but I prefer to not walk when i'm basically trying to just stay upright.

I push the doors open, and the clueless guards look me over to see if i have a badge. Yeah, bitch, i got your badge. I got your badge right here. I slide into the elevator, there's about 19 people in a 18 person capacity. The first girl I stand behind is pretty, but her hair makes me want to throw my bao all over her (not dirty)-- geez, that's a wierd combination, pretty girl and smelly head-- maybe she wore a beanie this morning. Nope.

Luckily, she gets off at the 20th floor, so for the next five floors, I gladly inhale the aroma of Pantene pro-V eminating from the soft and thinning hair of what must be a "senior" ibm employee. She's probably fifty, and I couldn't be happier to meet her.


Sunday, January 08, 2006

Happy New Year!

Hope 2005 was good for everyone... it was sort of ratty for myself.

Don't have much to say on this one-- I'm in apartment adjustment mode and life limbo.

I watched Lord of War-- good movie, made some interesting points. I've been actually thinking about the role of arms dealers and american gun running in the world.  wasn't a great movie, but compelling in its own way. They didn't make it ethnic enough for me, but that's b/c it was Nic Cage.

Walk the Line-- um, okay. Not bad, but not that much better than the average drug movie but its a cool idea to have Joaquin and Reese lip sync to their own voices. Joaquin does a good job with the JR Cash lip thing, but Reese is almost too natural as June Carter-- personally, I think Reese is the right temperment and charm to play ditzy characters. I find her aesthetically pleasing in these "blonde" roles, but not "hot" like you know, the hot ones. The main thing to see here is the legend of Johnny Cash-- which the movie only does a mediocre job of portraying. The "tortured" part is not deep enough, and someone rolling around on a bed after drug use is just not the right vehicle of expression sometimes.

United States of Leland-- Don Cheadle needs more work, and here's proof. The movie creeps, has an interesting style, but is too much that american beauty-forrest gump, dumb but charming, autistic but intelligent stuff. That kinda character is compelling as a phenomenal character with crazy stuff or mystical stuff happening in their surroundings-- as a "everyday" character-- nope. Though I like characters that cut themselves-- nothing says tortured and crazy like some actual blood. Too many "tortured" charactes that do nothing about their torturedness-- yeah, so you ripped out your hair, big deal-- blood, now, that's the real deal.

Okay, that's all folks...



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