hold your breath

***

I've just realised I haven't really posed a recap of my trip have i? well here it is, hong kong in camera phone pictures...

You line it up to your face, and tweeze your eyebrows according to the line. I love sasa. there was also these cheek templates, you can choose to have a round circle, an oval, or a harsher dash across your cheek, space it from your nose, and apply blush.



there were two shelves full of different kinds of these. double sided sticky tape you place on your eyelid to create a crease, what asians call "double eyelids" as opposed to their chinky "mongolian eyes"



As I was taking this, 5 of them were still smoking



I love instant noodles, and the leaps and bounds asian instant noodles have taken since the last time i was in the warm cradle of preservative broth. now they come with eggs, in sealed foil. and not just any old boiled egg, the old home styled tea eggs i used to have as a kid. the yoke was a bit flaky.



I hate drinking, everyone knows that. well, a few things happened and my face met the pavement of Lan Kwai Fong. moet was involved. this ugly bruise was what resulted



I love fast food. this was fast food asian style. i learned to keep away from the rice burgers this time (teriyaki beef surrounded by two rice buns, sounds good, don't taste it) this was just a simple beef dish. cheap meet, drenched in sauce. I just really liked their fruit punch, they had this at maccas too. diced tinned fruit in tutti fruitti soda punch.

and that was it. that was all the photos i took while abroad. all on my phone. a few lucky peeps wrangled some souvenirs out of me, lucky bastards, i didn't even buy anything for myself. cept for the perfume. speaking of which, my perfume, the one i've been using the last three, four years, has been discontinued. fuck i want to be famous just so i can kick giorgio armani in the arse and get him to make them again. i don't smell like myself anymore, it's disorienting.

***

only other thing i got out of the trip was the realisation that, for no apparent reason, i've become the fat girl. i've never been the fat girl in my life. actually when i was younger i was always a little too thin, and then something happened, puberty probably, and i filled out a little more, i felt good about the filling out, i got bigger boobs out of it. modest yes, but bigger. i remembered joking around with friends that when i see someone overweight, i wonder if there is a moment when they look in the mirror and start to realise that, maybe they've over extended themselves a little? the tipping point where they think, shit, i've really gained a few there? and now i'm looking in the mirror, and thinking, is this the moment? fuck, how did it happen? and before you start writing in on how i'm not and i look "womanly" and blah blah, it's ok, i'm happy with my body, i really am. but i realise i have gained a bit since this time last year, and that was a few inches more on six months before that. i was wearing this pair of pants that i loved back in year 12, they used to hang on me, and tonight through the two films that i saw i was squirming around because they were so tight, and sitting a little high. i always thought i really packed it on during my late night "study sessions" back then. anyway, useless waffle. point is, i want to get healthier. start running, join a yoga class that sort of thing. i won't starve myself, god knows i can't. so don't worry.

***

MIFF started. that's pretty awesome, already seen three films out of it. Sicko for the opening last night, Breath (Kim Ki Duk) and Lagerfeld Confidential tonight.

I've never liked michael moore, but he does have a certain sense of humour about him. sicko hit a few of the right spots, and hopefully it draws some attention to this blindingly obvious problem. I kept hoping he would come down and evaluate the australian health care system, just to prove that we're not going in the way of the americans, but he didn't, and i'm still not so sure, we certainly don't get free treatment for everything.

The Kim Ki Duk was his usual study of human interactions and twisted mentalities. That's not to say it was anything short of brilliant. I've never disliked a movie made by that man, and the line in front of RMIT Capitol attests to his popularity here. granted i haven't actually seen any of his commercial work for the mainstream Korean media, but i'd say he's keeping happy enough with his art now to not bother with them anymore. There's another one of his films in the festival this year which i'm seeing tuesday night, can't wait.

The Karl Lagerfeld doco was...well...the subject matter was very interesting, otherwise it was pretty dull. it was pretty badly made, a lot of cliched shots of the roaring sea, later justified by young karl running in and out of the waves (at least i hope it was karl, otherwise that would've been just 5 minutes of pure crap). it reminds me of what nick hornby writes of biographies in the Polysyllabic Spree, cut the crap. who cares if someone who later became a genius at one stage of his childhood did something really mundane? or something to that effect. if you have little material to work with (which i suspect this filmmaker did, a lot shots from a distance, fillers, very little actual interview) don't fill it with crap. a shorter film doesn't make it less worthwhile. lagerfeld himself was a riot. he has a giant library that requires those wheel things to open up the shelves, books fill his bedroom, as do silver rings which he wears in abundance on his finger ("he used to be able to pat you, now it hurts"). he has a million ipods, and talks candidly about practicing homosexuality since he was 13. when he came home one night after being assaulted by a man and a woman, one can assume sexually, around the age of 11 or 12, his mother said to him "look at yourself, it's your own fault". there's a sign that hangs in the bathrooms, in the iconic Chanel white on black printed in French "Pissing everywhere isn't very Chanel". i wish a better filmmaker had made it.

aside from all that, well, a lot of things happened. among which my relationship status on my facebook. i know it's only a matter of time, but for now it just damned unbearable. i really am the shittest person i know.

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The Unaccountable McSweeney

I'm not sure just quite how it happened. All I know is that, I was sitting here in my room, reading Zadie Smith's On Beauty and taking breaks by reading Nick Hornby's Polysyllabic Spree (not the crazy band that cameo'd in Scrubs, but the book, which only makes me want to go on and read more things like On Beauty, so it was the perfect plan really). I was musing for a moment just how incestuous the modern english literary circle really is, almost like Victorian England only instead of walking around London and bumping into all the literary celebs of the day you are all connected by publishing houses, sending you scripts of friends who are really only friends because you belong to the same publishing houses. Dave Eggers' wife edits The Believer (which Hornby writes a column for, would you believe it?)

So all of a sudden, I find myself doing a triple subscription of McSweeney's, The Believer AND Wholphin, because what kind of a cinema studies student would I be to neglect the DVD short film version of the McSweeney empire. and all of a sudden i'm out USD$160.

So as you can see, I'm am all together committed to this trip to Hong Kong. I've met 70% of the people I'm supposed to meet, and have had enough. Because honestly, even if on the slightest chance that there was anything for me here at all (if i was thin enough, and spoke cantonese enough), I wouldn't want to be a cog in the asian entertainment wheel. It's one thing to admire the work ethics of all these utterly talentless pretty young things, but quite another to want to be one. So sure Mr. Shamelessdirectorguy, I'll go home and drop a few kilos, learn some canto, and send you my portfolio. Do you take homemade DVDs?

I'm half tempted to skip my afternoon appointments and stay in and read. but the promise of some seriously good grub would end up dragging me out the door, into the sweat tank, to put on the happy ambitious face they love so much and tell them "yes I'd LOVE to be just like Twins or Isabella!" has anyone heard these girls trying to sing live? or indeed do anything at all other than stand there looking like a young pretty thing.

But I guess that's the industry everywhere, and still, the industry I want to get into. It's just that there isn't anything else BUT that here. Quality work really isn't appreciated here at all, quite aside from the fact that I couldn't possibly live here, I mean there are no art house cinemas and the bookstores look like my primary school library. They do sell City Moleskines here though, so one up for them. Oh and while on the subject of 'skines, a minor celebrity of the 'skine world Patrick Ng does live here.

I'm just bitter. I know that. If only I had some friends here, I'm sure I'll be singing a different tune. I did have the best japanese food of my life last night, and was so full from it i felt positive i could give birth to live crayfish as some kind of fucked up divine retribution.

I have no photos. I feel too shit to take photos. Plus, everywhere I look the technology everywhere puts my little out of date 4 megapixel to shame. I'm pretty sure all their mobiles have about that much. Shit, I'd better find out how to get to the Academy of Performing Arts from here on the MTR.

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HK mania

Oh, it's humid alright. you don't even have time to sweat, the moment you step out a layer of reverse condensation develops on your skin. So far, i've done pretty much nothing. slept a lot, kept checking emails. I don't get to meet anybody til at least Monday, then I have a week to squeeze in as many meetings as i can.

the plane ride over here was largely uneventful, from melbourne to sing i sat next to this american medical research presenter who's on his way to the epilepsy convention. His breath stank a little, though he was nice enough, and nice enough to put his headphones on and didn't talk to me from take off onwards. happily enjoyed a whole bunch of embarrassing movies guilt free on the plane. Blades of Glory, Disturbia, Priceless, and half of Night at the Museum because I fell asleep half way through. i really didn't miss out on much.

the flight from singapore to hong kong was longer than i expected, there was a girl sitting with me, the seat between us was empty. but the girl, was the dullest little creature. she did. not. move. at all. didn't put her headphones on, didn't read anything, didn't look at anything. just sat there and stared. it was so strange, like tim burton's staring girl, i waiting for her to take her eyeballs out for the "well deserved rest".

yeah you guys don't care. anyway, i got here in one piece. a man on the plane with me who stood inline behind us for the check in saw me get off and gave me his card and told me to call him if i need anything, which i thought was nice of him, he didn't seem like the predatory type, although i doubt i'd call him.

i went out for walks today. just around the area. it's seedy and busy, with all this upmarket designer goods mixed with the dingiest riff raff stores. i needed to buy some adapters so i can charge my phone and stuff, but couldn't find them anywhere. so i wander into this building, that looks kind of dirty and the sort of place you can find cheap gadgety things, and it was like i stumbled into little india, if little india was run by a sleazy uncle who happened to be a wise guy. you know, not a connected guy, a wise guy. anyway, point of the story is, it was scary. i was right though, i found power adapters, but i didn't want to stop for long enough to buy it, i just kept walking and avoided eye contact. i come back and look in my guide book and the description actually did contain the words seedy and sleazy and worth a look just for kicks. well i'm glad i can tick THAT off my itinerary. anyway it was too hot to walk around too much, and all the streets i took happened to lead me right back here, so i came back.

my mum's friend's sister called me and his son asked me if i wanted to go out tonight. with my overseas can-do attitude i said "erm....ok?" then he said "ok i'll call you before we go clubbing" and hung up. so apparently i'm going clubbing, with a bunch of boys i've never met, in a pressure cooker. I should bail. i need my sleep if i want to make the 10:30 cut-off for my breakfast buffet. waffles tomorrow?

i can't be bothered blogging in any coherent manner, outside is too hot and my room is too cold, i've brought no jumpers with me and nothing that covers up past my knees. any words of support can be sent to me on my temporary 3 phone number, or facebook. daphne, get facebook, because i can get on it through my phone. myspace spazzes it out.

i'm a little freaked. and not knowing what the hell i'm doing is a little scary. and the fact that i don't smell like myself (they didn't have my perfume at the duty free store at the air port) worries me a little too. i bought amarni code because i needed a smell, and my plane was having a final boarding call, and now i smell like an overpriced version of burberry brit, a bit like an expensive teddy bear. where are all the fun daggy people?

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