Saddest book ever

I'm reading the saddest book on earth. It's called, "You Remind Me Of Me" and is written by a guy named Dan Chaon. Not only are the inter-twined plots all sad (i.e., boy is savagely attacked by a dog and survives, child disappears from the yard and goes missing, man slips into drug addiction, etc.), the narrative is sad.

How sad? Well, here's a passage that's not *too* sad --

"Jonah's mother would talk about his brother sometimes -- the baby she had given up for adoption when she was in high school. She would joke sometimes about it. Whenever she saw a lady with an infant, she would say, "Oh, look, there's my baby!" and she would smile at Jonah, as if they were sharing a bitter joke. After Jonah's grandfather died, when she started taking drugs more she would occasionally grow sentimental.

"Don't you wish I'd given you up, Jonah?" she would say, full of slurry self-pity, in a haze of her own angry thoughts. "I'll bet he's a lot happier than you are."

Each time I pick this book up I am propelled to a place of great sadness.

It's a good thing I'm deliriously happy now.

Old body, new clothes

I paid a visit to my tailor today. I've had it with the loose fitting pants and shirts. I look like a 17 year old boy from Oakland. Kulang na lang, diamond studded chain with a fist sized pendant (also diamond studded) and a baseball cap worn sideways.

Since the weight loss, I've been looking v. silly at the office.

So I go see my tailor J. (J. makes Elton John look like a marine sergeant) and he takes one look at me and gasps, "What happened!?!?" I love J. He makes going down a couple of shirt sizes sound like the Second Coming.

I hate the Fed

I realize the American economy is tanking. But does it have to affect me so directly? Since the Fed started cutting interest rates in the beginning of the year, I've seen my savings account interest take a nose dive. I'm earning 40% less now on more money then I did 4 months ago.

I am *not* pleased.

Someone bring Greenspan (and 2005 market conditions) back.

After living in HK for a year and half...

1. I still don't speak a word of Cantonese.

(Well, actually, that's not true. I know 5 words -- "thank you", "please", "stop here", "what's up?" and "idiot". I think it is a very full vocabulary.)

2. I am no longer annoyed at the sound of Cantonese.

(Well, actually, that's not true either. Now and then I still get bothered by the high-pitched squawking, but much less than when I first moved here.)

3. I still love the skyline, the bay, the lights. (True)

4. I still haven't been to China. (Unfortunately, true.)

5. I think it is an incredible city. It is both 90 minutes and a world away from home. (Irrefutably true).

College jeans, try college wardrobe

You hear some people say that they can still fit in the jeans they wore in college. Or how most people dream of one day getting into their college Levi's.

Well here's some news -- I now weigh the same as I did in sophomore year at Loyola.

Now I wonder where those Girbeau jeans are....

White shoes, white pants

This weekend I donned white shoes and white pants. No, I didn't wear them together. I was not channeling Tony Ferrer's Agent X-44, even though he is super cool in my book.

I wore them on two separate occasions. The white pants were for a boat trip I took on a client's massive yacht. I bought those Banana Rep white pants in 2003 (in NY!) and never wore them. I mean, apart from boat trips and unless you're a health care provider, when is it appropriate to wear white pants? I took them to HK though, thinking I may get invited to barbecue on the beach. No luck on the barbecue, but I did get this invite to get on a 139 foot yacht.

The yacht was spectacular, but I got seasick towards the end, so it wasn't a "spectacular" experience for me. The lunch at the yacht club was good though.

The white shoes are what A and C call "trainers". The rest of the world calls them rubber shoes. I don't usually wear rubber shoes unless I am engaged in a sport or other form of athletics. When I'm not working, I wear loafers. Last count I had almost a dozen pairs. But then I thought, "Oh sod it, everyone wears them, and they're comfortable, so why not...." ("Sod it...." that's another thing A and C say.)

As you will note this blog has been quiet. And if all I can say after a month and a half is that I wore white trousers over a weekend, things must be slow and steady in HK.

And they are.

I promise it looks better in real life

Random Thought

Tic tac is the phonic anagram of Kit Kat.

Channelling Van Gogh

Note the paint on my lips. Photo of "finished product" to follow.

Real Freedom

A couple of days ago, a high school classmate of mine who now works as a missionary in Krakow (long story) chatted me up on Yahoo! messenger.

After required pleasantries, she asked me about the political environment in Hong Kong. I responded, "Well, it's sort of like China, but not." (I can sound really dumb when I want to.)

"So there's no private property?"

"Uh, there is. But there is no universal suffrage. The right to assemble is sketchy, so is freemdom of expression. But really, I don't mind."

And I'm serious -- I don't mind.

Because I have other, more important freedoms.

I can walk down a street alone at 3am and not feel scared. I can earn an honest living as a lawyer (something I cannot do in the ostensible democratic motherland) and feel confident that my future will be comfortable (the banking system will not fail, the currency I am saving in will not fall in value). At night, when I sleep in my apartment, I feel a sense of security I don't feel in Manila; I didn't feel even in New York.

To be honest, I really don't see what the big to do is about the bill of rights. And I'm not trying to sound dumb. If you think about it, the freedoms that really matter aren't on it.