At the beginning of this circle, there is a fairly large bush of pale roses. In the middle, a pile of stale potential composed of decomposing pedals where the juices have no access to soil, the wrapper of Snickers, one pigeon feather, uncountable micro-/nano-plastic particles, invisible neutrino passengers shooting across all life-forms, some confused and inevitably drawn gazes. (What is the dissatisfaction?) It’s a hot hot summer day, and there isn’t enough ventilation in the city centre. A deeply inferior sensation when considering all books and writers endeared in the past month or so. And all the unanswered calls and text messages, sent and unread emails, chains of broken desires, weight down muscles bulging at the calves. Of course, muses are everywhere, a silly-con valley girl with an ambition to mend, yet such an unskilled learner. Hp is low, return to base and swirl in anticipated impatience, circling the drain to pump it up.
It’s all circles, no matter the chain of diss: PC game > mobile game > hyper-casual money-sucker game > ? Abstinence vs. exposure therapy. Run very fast and too much till the knee cracks. My shin suffers from a rather distant memory in front of the then mega cow-atic (chaotic, thanks to a meme about Derrida)ring around the North Train Station of Chengdu. My aunt panicked and paced in circles while I slowly dim from the oozing of fat and hemoglobin. (There was an exaggerated delay of signs of danger if you don’t cut through the arteries, blood flows so very calmly into the open, and pain arrives late because of the pumping of adrenaline so eager to prevent system shutdown.) And I’m since addicted to the numbing palms of low blood-sugar attacks. No breakfast until after 3 pm, then I’m too hospitable to my weak bodies to whip up some intense feedings. My, these days the sentence that keeps running in circles is “逃げるは恥だが役に立つ (running away is despicable, but it is useful)”, and Gaki is so damn cute. Is (my) romanticism gonna survive this deadly summer drain?
No one has trimmed this bush of pale rose, I’m almost certain the doors above are stuffed with students or expats of sorts who can’t care less about the different timelines on this raging body, where the explosion of life energy dies unevenly into broken promises of a future. It isn’t bloody red. It is a soft pink almost too light to pose as an accident. Piles and piles of upheaval turned down invitations, oh I don’t want to get any gifts, I’m done with giving, can you cash out the stocks of our friendship and liquidate our future encounters? Earth, you brutal extraterrestrial existence, you don’t give a damn about the circle of dying pale bushes that asks for … not even that much! Nah, better sign a release form and get on with cycling, circling, encircling, digging, holing. Those guys came premeditated with their shovels and everything!
There is a secret better kept untold.
Permenant and Pertinent Resi(st)dance 