By: Winluck Wong

So there it is the velvet canvas
Sprinkled with eternal motes of silver dust,
Waiting for us
To clear it away, making a way
For the polychromatic palette of our love.

Sometimes I wonder what colours that we would paint
If I never went away on that midnight train.
We’d be together presenting our masterpiece
In the sky where the whole world sees
How beautiful love can be.

I can’t believe it has been two years
Since I left and made my lonesome way up here,
Holding back tears
In case they wash away all the bright days
In the polychromatic palette of our love.

Sometimes I wonder what colours that we would paint
If I never went away on that midnight train.
We’d be together presenting our masterpiece
In the sky where the whole world sees
How beautiful love can be.

It’s the middle of the night right now and I can’t sleep. Not that I’m really doing anything about it since I’m writing here at the moment. Hey, would you say it’s overly weird that the desire to write often likes to seize me at random moments when almost everyone in or near my time zone should be sleeping? I don’t know…that’s why I’m asking you. Well, just chalk it up to one of my little eccentricities then, I guess.

So I just returned from a short break back to my hometown. That’s why I haven’t written here in over a week. It’s quite difficult to find the time to hole up in an Internet café when you’ve got a million things you want to reconnect with. I found I really missed the city - more than I could ever have imagined.

You know, you never truly realize how much you miss home until you’ve gone back and actually licked the air or tasted the ground. Well, figuratively - you wouldn’t want to do that in the part of town I grew up in. I mean, even though I call a different town “home” now, the feeling still sticks. It’s bizarre…it’s like every time I leave a place I’ve become attached to, some minuscule morsel of my soul detaches itself and clings on to the place so that I never really feel complete until I return once in awhile.

Needless to say, I was a bit glum when I had to leave my hometown and go back home. Wait, that didn’t make sense. Hmm…whatever. Where was I? Glum…yes, I felt glum…but content as well. Okay, how is that even possible? Because if I felt glum leaving a piece of myself behind and now I’m content again, that would mean I found…oh.

So…I guess this settles the huge question mark I’ve always had over my head since I moved here: I’ve genuinely grown attached to this town enough that another minuscule morsel of my soul now clings to it whenever I leave.

That’s quite an epiphany to sleep on because I never thought it would be possible. I’m gonna need to call this a night. Give me some time. I’ll fully grasp it when the morning comes.

Good night.

I lost my golf virginity this weekend. Was it good for me, you ask? Oh, let me tell you all about it while I smoke an imaginary cigarette.

It started out with a slow tempo because I really had no idea what I was doing. For example, one of the thoughts that kept re-surfacing on my mind was how exactly was I supposed to position my club. I mean, do I aim high or do I aim low? There were so many possibilities and positions available. Anyway, I eventually decided that for first-timers, it’s probably best to aim low.

So I did and I was instantly rewarded with a climax that reached epic heights. I believe it was a record high. I swiftly followed it through with a couple more strokes and plunked it straight into the hole. That was my first hole and I was on-par. Life is beautiful. Orgasmic even.

Seven more followed after that and I could not help but notice the downgrading pattern of my performance. After each consecutive one, I felt more and more…drained, if you will. I can’t even begin to explain how deflated my ego felt then. I mean, I went in there thinking I’d be a tiger with endless endurance and powerful prowess. In fact, I went in there believing I was the Tiger.

I thought, “That’s it? Just get it straight in the hole each time and I can become the next legend? Psh…well, that’ll be as easy as eating pie. I got this. Oh, there’ll be eighteen of them in a row? Hmm…a little more complicated, but it’s nothing I shouldn’t be able to handle.” Yeah I know, right now you’re probably thinking, “Wow, this guy sure is cocky.” And you’re absolutely right - I was very, very cocky.

Well, like I said, that all changed by the time I reached my eighth one. My aim was off and I kept missing the sweet spot that triggers that wonderful climax. There were also a few times when I would accidentally aim too high and although that does put an interesting spin to the moment, it really doesn’t cut it until the hole gets some more activity as well.

Anyway, long story short, I was all gung-ho to call it quits. There really is a limit to everything. As euphoric as each time was, there’s a certain point when we have to be able to recognize how much is too much. We need the time to take a step back and regain our vitality. Thankfully, everyone decided to call it a day after the eighth one as well and I was immensely relieved. The scores were all tallied up and we finally staggered our way to home with intensely sore backs.

As we left, I couldn’t help looking back and smiling wistfully. It’s natural - everyone cherishes their first time. And they should. It’s their initiation into the game after all and after tasting its fruit the first time, you can bet that they’ll be back for more. You may make an educated guess that I certainly will be.

In retrospect, looking at my first scores of the game, I must say that my performance really wasn’t all that bad. If we were to grade this by highest number of strokes made, I’d beat Tiger Woods on the score count any day, hands down.

I apparently sent an e-mail today at work to the entire department instead of to just the branch I’m in. Okay, so it was a careless mistake. But generally, if you receive an e-mail in your inbox that doesn’t seem to relate to you whatsoever, it doesn’t take a lot of brain cells to come to the conclusion that (a) it’s spam or (b) it was sent by accident. I sent the email with my work account so it would have been quite safe to rule out (a). The in-your-face conclusion you should arrive at is that I sent it by accident.

This is the cue for you to hit the “Delete” button. Or if you want to be on the safe side, just send me a quick friendly e-mail to see if I had meant to send it to you. That’s it. Simple as that. The point I’m trying to make is that there is no need to send a snotty little reply to what was obviously an honest mistake. You wouldn’t believe some of the sudden flurry of responses I immediately got after I hit the “Send” button.

I did receive some courteous check-up e-mails that I appreciate. But what really appalled me was the scathing responses I received from some people. So there’s an extra random message that’s taking up a whopping 3 KB of the Inbox space. Big fucking deal. Just delete it then if it upsets your vibe so much.

However, if you’re actually going to take the time to reply to my accidental e-mail, please strip away your smart-aleck attitude and shove it up your hiney. I don’t need you to command me to never send this e-mail to the entire department again. I also definitely do not need your oh-look-how-much-higher-my-IQ-is-than-yours tone. And neither do you. Because pointing out the obvious doesn’t make you appear smart at all. In fact, you’re really lowering your public image since you just wasted several precious minutes of your life telling someone about your discovery of something that everyone already knew about.

Seriously, I am amazed at how many people neglect to use their brains to analyze situations before letting words spill out of their mouths or fingers. I’m also amazed at how uptight some people can be. You’d think I had sent an e-mail threatening to throttle their beloved little Fluffy and feed its carcass to their children, judging from the nastiness of some of the replies I got.

I have two words for those people who sent me those lovely responses: chill out. And because I’m feeling so generous today, I’d like to present them with three other words: use your brain.

That is all. May their inboxes bulge with an inundation of evil spam.

It has begun. I just came back from a run through the trails behind my house. Every summer, I always make the same old pledge to myself to be “more active” (notice how I purposely kept it fairly vague - just to lessen the guilt if I end up not really fulfilling it). I was quite proud of myself last summer, actually. Granted, I didn’t start my “more active” regimen until late July, but at least I attempted to work at it.

However, that will not be acceptable this summer. I will break all my records this summer. I will persevere to be the pinnacle of human fitness. This summer, my “more active” regimen will be epic.

By the end of this summer, I will possess the physical prowess of the Dragon. In fact, I will be the Dragon:

Bruce Lee/End-Of-Summer-Me
(Photo courtesy of: Bruce-Lee-Video.com)

Oh yes, by the end of this summer, my body will be one lethal weapon. I will be dangerous. I will be deadly.

I will be…*glances at my current reflection in the mirror*…Oh dear god, where the hell do I even start? Somebody help!

So I had to go on a sudden “Nature break” in the middle of my shift a couple of days ago - hey, it happens to the best of us. Luckily, it was a night shift so nothing adrenaline-rush-inducing was happening at the time. Anyway, as you are all quite intimately aware of the process of going in a public washroom stall, there’s really not much you can do other than doing your thing…and reading all the enlightening messages scrawled on the stall door.

A lot of these messages are often diligently scrubbed off by the cleaning staff during the night. But some writers have a penchant for carrying a Sharpie around in their back pockets - and those are the gems forever immortalized on the stall door to amuse and inspire all those who must occasionally perch on that particular porcelain throne.

I read an interesting mix that night. There were the usual “[Undecipherable Name] waz here” messages. There was also a well-rounded portion of hate messages thrown in as well:

[So-and-So] is a doosh-bag. He stole my $$ and won’t admit it. Fucking doosh.

Running commentary: Okay, first of all, just to get this pet peeve of mine out of the way, it’s spelled “douche bag” - the word originated from French. Secondly, you obviously didn’t have your creative juices running. If you had, you would have been able to prevent the theft in the first place. And even if it was unavoidable, you would have at least been able to come up with a second different diss…instead of “doosh-bag” and then basically the same thing again minus “-bag”. It would give your insult a stronger oomph, yes?

[Whatshisface] fucks dogs.

Running commentary: Hmm…you gotta give him props for getting right down to the nitty-gritty of the graphic image. Gold star for being concise. A poop-flavoured scratch-and-sniff sticker for bringing up that inappropriate image in my mind and disrupting my concentration on having a smooth “Nature break”.

[Mystery-She] is a bitch!! She’s creepin with some dude. I just know it…WTF??

Running commentary: WTF, indeed. See, it all depends on if you “just know it” because you actually have evidence or you “just know it” because you have a suspicion. If it’s the former, dump her - obviously she doesn’t value your relationship so why should you? If it’s the latter though…well, good luck with that, mate. I hope you’re a religious man because your next step will have to involve praying for skill in delicacy and tact. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.

It’s amazing how poetic some people can get when ejecting waste from their bodies. Let’s take a look at some of these inspiration words that night:

Shit happens. Wipe it off.

Running commentary: This is both literal and figurative. Bloody brilliant!

Don’t ball up the toilet paper! Think of how many trees you’ll save if you fold and use.

Running commentary: That is an absolutely valid observation. Although I always thought folding the toilet paper before wiping was second nature to everyone, but I guess some people need to be told that. I mean, c’mon…the entire roll is divided into foldable squares - it practically begs to be folded! Okay, don’t get too carried away with the technicalities. Focus on the trees. Yes…um…so the lesson here is: “Fold the brown, save the green!”

Privacy is a right for all humans. It is a means to preserve our individuality. So why doesn’t this goddamn door have a lock that works??

Running commentary: “Holy shit!” That was my first thought and it chased away all contemplations on the deepness of this message as I entered into panic mode. This door was unlocked the whole time?? But to my immense relief a second later, I discovered that the lock was in perfect working order. So this message is outdated. The latter part, that is.

Finally, I saw a message that really baffled me: “Stranded at airport. April 30/08.”

I must bow down to the gentleman who wrote this message. He must be the epitome of a Zen practitioner. If I were stranded at an airport and fuming over it in a public washroom and just happened to have a Sharpie in my back pocket, I would go ballistic and make sure every inch of the stall door was coated with permanent marker obscenities. Coated! I wouldn’t be able to sum up my fury with one sentence fragment. I’m pretty sure many people would feel the same way.

Venerable Sir, whoever you are, you have me deeply humbled. Thank you.

May 12, 2008. 14:28 Beijing Time. Sichuan Province, China. 8.0-magnitude earthquake. At least 30,000 missing. At least 60,000 dead. At least 5,000,000 displaced. At least 45,000,000 directly affected. Countless millions have wept and still continue to do so.

These are the grim numbers of the titanic earthquake that has devastated the Chinese people.

This is a tragic and horrific natural disaster. It has nothing to do with the “Tibetan issue”. It definitely cannot be described as “karma”. Or “God’s divine judgement”.

We are victims of one of the worst disasters that Nature has ever unleashed. In the timespan of only three minutes, millions of families were irreparably crushed and torn asunder as the people suddenly became orphans, widows/widowers, and heartbroken parents.

Yet, we will stand strong and united to rise above this tragedy. We are millions of hearts with one mind. Pray with us. Let’s set aside our differences and pray together as one whole human race.

Thank you.

In memory of the victims and families lost in the Sichuan, China earthquake of 2008
(Video courtesy of: Celine T, a.k.a. “GoChinaCeCe22888″ on YouTube)

If you would like to make a donation to aid the victims and their families, please visit Canadian Red Cross.

By: Winluck Wong

There was a rumour spread in humour
That perchance we fancied each other.
We crafted laughs and called them all daft,
But ne’er would have passed the polygraph.
For we hid behind the best-friends guise,
Not surmising the truth in our eyes:
We had fallen then beyond all ken
Into each other’s hearts as denizens.

Yet we refused to remove the ruse
For fear that a best friend we may lose.
We mired our driving desire
That fanned the fire to leap higher.
We endured the rising temperature
Of our joint passion that had no cure.
Then the day came when we parted ways.
I did try to say that three-word phrase -
Somehow it got lost in the jostles
Amidst the awkward tangle of our souls.

My house is being attacked by a maniacal robin! During the past couple of weeks, it has bashed its head against every window around the house at least twice. I kept getting interrupted by random bangs and every time I sprint to the scene of the crime, there’s that chubby robin staring cheekily back at me. I swear it’s the same little nutter each time. But there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s so goddamn cute.

Anyway, I discovered why the robin’s been acting so crazy lately: it is looking for a home. And with property prices as sky-high as they are these days, I don’t blame it for going all bonkers. I feel like…well, I feel like bashing my noggin against a window too, actually. Alright, I digress - back to the story.

So like I said, the robin is looking for a home. I guess it wanted to explore the inside of the house for prospective locations and just couldn’t figure out why it is being repelled by some invisible seamless barrier. Perhaps it is a test from the Bird Gods themselves. That’s it - they are testing the strength of its resolve! It shall not fail…it will fly further off, flourish its wings, gather speed, and - BAM! Oh, foiled again! Well, after several repetitions of this feat, you can probably imagine why it would abandon attempting to overcome this trial. It decided to search the exterior of the house instead. That’s when it spotted the lamp bracket.

That’s right…of all the possible spots it could’ve settled in, it chose the most dangerous one. This robin thrives on living Life on the edge. Okay, maybe I should give the poor birdie some slack. I mean, how could it possibly fathom the fact that windows can be painful (oh, was that a pun? Ba-dum-psh!) or that electricity can fry pretty much anything? Nonetheless, I must give props to the robin for its cleverness. ‘Cause besides the minor detail that the lamp bracket is practically vibrating with electrical sparks, it is perfect as perfect can be since it is already conveniently shaped like a vertically stretched-out nest. All it needs to do is to just fill the lamp bracket up with twigs and leaves and all those other cozy nest materials that I know nothing about. And that’s exactly what it did.

Take a look at its ingenuity:

Side view of the “Lamp Bracket Nest”

Top view of the “Lamp Bracket Nest” (yes, you guessed it - that round yellow thing in the middle is the lightbulb”)

Now I am in a moral dilemma. The robin spent so much energy and effort to make that cozy nest, but I know it is an extremely dangerous location for it to call home. The question is: should I deem to know what’s best for the robin and remove its hard work or should I leave it be and pray it doesn’t get electrocuted (as long as no one switches on the lamp)?

I ended up choosing the former over the latter because I could not bear the possibility of the robin getting electrocuted. Yet, I cannot say I am entirely comfortable with that decision. Because how is that different from some nations (especially one, in particular) who think they know what’s best for the world and proceed to police it as they see fit?

So much for keeping up with my 2008 Resolution - I said I would write in this blog more often and what did I end up doing with that promising Resolution? Well, I broke it first of all. And then I went on a frickin’ hiatus. Bad form. Very bad form. I have to say though that this is a record breakthrough for me. My previous Resolutions rarely held out past mid-January…but this year, I blew past it with flying colours. Three whole months of dedication!

Anyway, I have a perfectly legitimate reason for not writing in this blog for almost two months: I was writing somewhere else. No, no, no! I didn’t mean it that way. No wait, come back! I haven’t abandoned you. This will always be my home. I promise. What I meant was that I took a break to concentrate on transforming blank pieces of paper into pages of script for a play that’s been brewing in my mind.

So after two months of locking myself in my room and surviving on Michelina’s and other microwavable delicacies, my project is complete. At last, the world is in the palm of my hand, ready to be crushed as I clench it into an unyielding fist and…Oh, wrong project. You weren’t supposed to know about that…and I mean, it’s not really complete or anything yet. No need to be alarmed. So um…moving on. Where were we? Ah yes, the script! Right. So as I was saying, my project of writing a script for the play is now complete.

The title of the play is Retrace. Here’s a quick lowdown of the plot: “What begins as a police interrogation slowly unravels. Both the policeman and the suspect’s personal lives are inevitably drawn in as they retrace the paranormal secrets that have propelled them to what they are today.”

Does that not irresistibly grab your attention? If it does, come check out its debut at Nakai Theatre’s “HomeGrown Festival”. It’s a venue for Yukon artists of all genres to showcase their completed works or works-in-progress. The festival runs from May 20th to May 24th (evenings @ 8:00 PM) at the Guild Hall in Whitehorse, YT and Retrace is scheduled to show from May 22nd to May 24th in the Cabaret room (see the program schedule here). Hope to see you there!

Okay, now that my show’s plug is out of the way, onto a look at where I want to go next: this summer, I want to experiment with film. Having said that, I guess my first step would be finding a vidcam. And learning how to use it. This may take awhile.