Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Happy Valentine

Rome, The Open City


Seriously, you do not have to see me today although I am cute today, but please answer my question about English grammar as I am trying to assimilate:

What is the REAL difference between "I have been thinking about you" and "I thought of you"?


"I have been thinking about you" and "I thought of you" are basically the same thing.

When one says "I thought of you" it means "at this moment of time, when such-and-such happened, I thought of you."

When one says "I have been thinking about you" it implies "I've been lolling around daydreaming about you."

Ultimately, though, when I thought of you by definition it is true to say that I have been thinking about you.

And, truth be told, I have been thinking about you.

Batman Returns


The bats have been retired...and they've been replaced by a ghost.

He breezes through the 17th floor, slips past your office and, failing to catch a glimpse of you, dissolves again into mist.

Me: Hold it. Don't leave me just yet. I am almost done....;-)

D: He is dissolving…

Me: Master of distraction….are you still here?

D: Just barely.

Forbidden Love Burns Like Fire

Me: Who is it that were in my office, prince of evil making a come-back to keep the game going or a hesitant man finally decide to reveal little affection?

D: Can’t I be both?

You were so achingly pretty today. And in the elevator, when you smiled at me, it was all I could do to keep from pulling you close and putting my hands all over you.

Now I have to concentrate on work, and I find I cannot.

Me: Who suggested this coffee or lunch idea, is it me? I don't want this any more. I can not take the torture. I have to be held by you. Not in the distance of that close but can not touch you or being touched by you. I do not know what to do.

Concentration has not been my strength for a long time by now. Welcome to my world.

D: Sounds like a dull business subject, but is that what I mean?

Ah, the smell of you. It's still with me.

Me: Got distracted yet again--OK, the consulting firm which locates at 101 Park is Booz Allen Hamilton, where I first officially got to know you, for the record.

You Don't Call, You Don't Write

D: Tried to call you.

But the line was busy.
Were you talking to a friend?
When I tried again much later
Didn't want to let it ring again

Alongside the subject line those are lyrics to a song called "Winona" by Matthew Sweet.
It's what I thought of when I called you at home tonight.

We Are Going to Spain, Even You Will Lose Your Legs

Me: Let's go to Spain.

D: See the bomb in Madrid in the news.

Me: Shihhh...we are going.

D: Fine. But when both my legs get blown off in a bombing, you're going to feel sooooo guilty. Actually, that's probably what you want so I'm shorter than you.

I imagine it would be difficult. I've never dated a woman who is taller than me. The only time I've even come close was a a couple times I've dated women who were taller when they wore heels.

You would have to have really, really, really high heels to accomplish that feat. Feat? Feet? Har har har har!

Me: I really don't need heels to reach any feat or feet, any man who wants to kiss me just have to bend down or holds me up and I believe it is something that they are dying to do. ;-0

And by being not so over "size" is the advantage that I can date any man from 5 feet to 6 feet 4 with or with out heel, and that is lots of man to date with and we call that scaleability and roll out potential. ;-0

And if you think I am too short for you, just say it. You should feel lucky that I don't think you are too tall for me.

I personally think our height are perfect, 5"9 is my goldern criteria from now on. When I kiss you, I just need to raise my heel a little. I would not want to climb a tree to do just that.

Your short friend

D: Just woke up to use the bathroom and got your message which made me laugh a lot.

At A Loss for Words


I'm at a loss for words, V.

That's a lot when you consider it's me who's saying this.

I'm at a loss for words.


That really means a lot that D is deprived of capability of saying anything smart--I like it.

It was like a dream the second part of last night, what did we do? My memory is a blur right now. But I know I love it.

I remember I slapped you. Did you ask me "would this get into something good" or not? I was truly drunk. I don't know why, I did not really drink that much, maybe I was too torn? But it was good.

Thinking of Red Spy at AIX

D: After leaving the office I came to--where else?--AIX. I ate cheese and drank a lovely red and read my Haruki Murakami book. And I thought of you.

I'm starting to resent you for constantly invading my thoughts. ;-)

But with each passing day we draw closer to your procedure--we won't call it surgery and that's that--and I get concerned.

I won't say "I love you" right now because then you'll think I love you.

Oh. Crap. Fine. I love you. But let's pretend I don't. My government will arrest me as a spy.


It is funny. I was fantasizing that I meet you at AIX after you get off the plane...I can read your mind now, or we feel and think alike. That is worse punishment that your gov is giving you, you are invaded by a red. Mission accomplished by me.:)

I love you too.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Happy Birthday To You

Perfect Monster

You will be punished for breaking the rules. Don't eat the grape, little girl.

We are all rule breakers, forbidden acts thrilled us, forbidden kisses, were like fire.

And this monster, is just perfect, for punishers. I was a scared kid, and then a girl. But I am not afraid of punishment carried out by monsters, it makes the game fair.

And there are consequences far worse than being torn up, eaten alive, I just know.

But ultimately, my point is, monsters and fairies in Pan's Labyrinth are simply perfect, like those in Spirited Away.
These are simple monsters, but the most real kind that were whispering in the darkness in our little bedrooms, or outside our windows, only we can see, when we grew up, alone, so alone, that our companies were our imagined friends.

That is why we write, we draw, we day dream, and we claim that we have freinds, they come out at night, and no one else can see them. They are ours only.
Imagination is the best and worst gift of life and youth.

One sad thing for growing up, is to know that probably, we have only ourselves. Our old friends stayed at where we were. And we could not go back. We lost the way.

That is why I am grateful to watch films like Pan and Spirited Away, they are not Fellini or Bergman, but who cares.

They are just perfect.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Drunk Writing of the Party Place

You could be totally alone in a party, surrounded by people, not friends, just people who know your name, your face, but don't know you. They are strangers that you have to work under the same roof.

They don't matter anymore. None of these. But I am wearing red, like a flame, someone say. The crying is inside, invisible even from the moon.

This holiday party is at the same venue as we had our first one together. We did not talk then. You saw me and I saw you. That was about it. Longing is the best part. I danced after you left.

People are drinking their sorrow. Crowd is smallest this year. No speeches. Too tired to even pretend this is a good time.

People avoided certain subjects. Dancing floor is empty, embarrasingly so.

This is like celebrating wedding anniversary when the divorce paper is finalized.

This is like in the world of 1984 when people disappear and those remain pretend they don't see or care. They hush and turn the other way.

This party is where you are missed by me and your friends.

You don't miss them, you don't miss me. Maybe you miss them. Maybe you miss me.

Familiar faces did not show up. Maybe they have left or let go. I am waiting for my turn, to leave, for I know I could not wait until they let me go, they know how to drag for efficient cheap labor, people who got sponsored. Take it then.

This venue on the 21 street, that was so close to where our story started, 4 years ago.

We were a life time.

I want to smash the glasses on the people whose face we did not like. You are so much better than all of them. I am too. We were lonely among these people. I am now.

I just smiled, raising my glass. I am house broke already after so long. But I am waiting for the day when I can rebel.

"I don't know what to say, it is not holiday anymore". COO woman said good naturedly. A lovely blonde.

This is a party with collective akwardness.

I kept drinking. I talked to the French girl from each other we were alienated from, since we no longer shared that large office facing 41 st. I talked to new people too, those with no histories or past, here.

She is dating someone she worked with. "I am happy for you. Anne" I said and meant it. She is dear to me,even we don't talk. She was a witness of us. She was part of.

Life is a full circle. Maybe I came here to meet you, now it is done. Let's move on from here. For it interest me no more. Now it is only a prison, a drag, like myself was.

This is a party that I should not be at. No more pounding heart and anticipation and hand holding behind our back. I am here only becuase I know, this is the farewell, the last one with this company, this phase of life. I came to say goodbye, to mourn, wearing red. Some funerals are happy ones.

Eight years, that is how long it took the Chinese to drive away Japanese occupants in Second World War. Damn long time. Damed good time.

Damned wasted time on tables and charts and response rates.

Damed good time to know someone and love someone like you just found them back from your past, a past that was erased from our memory. But you knew or remembered.

Little emails on blackberries, that kept us in touch in after hours, secretively. I am not ashamed.

I am not guilty for having fucked my group account director anymore--I was for sometime, I was a weird breed. I avoid talking about it. But you were and still are my proud. You just never know.

We are smart and worked really hard, charming. It had to happen. We could not avoid it. It was a crash. The James Spader's type of crash, the Secretary type of desire and release, the longing that had to be satisfied. The forbidden longing that is as if we are screwing the whole world while we fuck. We could not help it.

Maybe it is nothing more. If you say so. Maybe it is too dark and consuming to be anything more than, to be like a Hallmark card story or a Visa Card ads.

I am sure this is not the only thing you want, wanted.

I am sorry that I did what I did, to have loved you. But you know.

I won't argue anymore.

Let's have another drink and No, I don't date Scorpion boy. My man is Aquarius like me.

Let's have another drink.

And I know I will wake up mid of the night and throw up, but no one will see.