I like moving around, physically. I can’t sit still, and I haven’t stayed in one city for more than four years since I was fourteen. So I got a new blog after having my last one for… four years. Haha.
Bye bye, Xanga, I said on my old blog. I’d gone there with a broken heart. Now that it’s whole again, it’s time to move on.
I told someone I see events in my life as symbols and he said that was stupid. On a cold winter night in January in his car. I didn’t tell him I thought he was stupid before he said that, and what he said made him even stupider. That was a symbolic event, too. We disagree on too many things we could only see each other once in a long while, in the dark. So we didn’t have to actually see each other. I saw him once in daylight, couldn’t stand the sight of him.
Scarlet night. Red and black have been the most symbolic colors for Asian American organizations. Do a Google search to conduct your own survey. And I just love all shades of red. What does a scarlet night make you think of? A blood-smeared sky, like Hiroshima and Nagasaki? A playful night in New York City? A whole night of sex (somehow I wasn’t comfortable with writing “love-making”)?
Images. Imageries. Imagine.
