Story hung.

Was looking at the uncrafted direct response ad on the concrete wall.
It almost tells a story. Is itself almost a story.

Pageant of a croissant.

I'm not absolutely sure about how I got to like this restaurant so much lately. There's a good chance the crush began with a croissant.

Yes it came with crunchy skin with very fluffy, lofty-layered inside. But it got me earlier when it was brought to the table. See how this HK$9 dollar croissant was nicely served. Well you can picture the rest.

Oven-fresh bakery. Good coffee. Bossa nova playlist. The English Big Breakfast on their lunch and dinner menus is a big plus, too.

Can't ask for more.

Heavy battling at work.

Dancing in a conference-table minefield.
Swimming in emails, voice mails, fax mails, overclocked males and females

and it feels good. :)

Phenomenal void.

Tranquility seen.

Epiphany inhaled.

Translucency heard.

Nonentity felt.

photo by sitruc. 2008, tokyo, japan

A fish filet burger wonder.

我想,這個魚柳飽可以是小說中對一個精打細算,最會刻薄伙計及顧客的茶餐廳當家的側寫.

(真人真事出現於銅鑼灣某茶餐廳外賣...)

While she's sleeping.

Enduring taunts of morning sun afar reading with macbook & coke zero in this sleepless night.

Fingers black.

Have always considered ink refill the least preferred writing-related activity.

Let alone the spill on hands and table.

I still got 2 black fingers after like 5 washes. Must I apply correction fluid to get rid of it?

photo by sitruc, 2008

Now Showing.

Bye, Godfather.
Hello, Marilyn.

javascript:document.location=nextyear

It's my birthday and I wish my life will make more sense after the end of every day.

Well, I do cook, occasionally.

Fry Yaki-soba noodle with scallop.

My first time spending more than 20 mins preparing lunch for myself since probably 2002.

It tastes as good as it looks. :)

i am me.

It was 1998 back then. Stood alone in faculty office, I was fascinated by a piece of writing hanged on the wall. For 30 mins I stared at it, lifted my mind up above the ceiling.

The very next day having coffee in the faceless crowd at cafeteria, the plain sentences and simple words still grabbed all of me. It wasn't as easy as it is now to search for articles via the internet. So I went to the faculty office again to write it down on my notebook disregarding the curious pairs of eyes:

i am me - "My Declaration of Self-esteem"
by Virginia Satir

In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me -
everything that comes out of me is authentically mine,
because I alone choose it -
I own everything about me -
my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions,
whether they be to others or to myself -
I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears -
I own all my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes.

Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me -
by so doing I can love me and be friendly with me in all my parts -
I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me,
and other aspects that I do not know -
but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself,
I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and for ways to find out more about me -
However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me -
If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought and felt turned out to be unfitting, I can discard that which I feel is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded -
I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me -
I own me, and therefore I can engineer me -
I am me &

I AM OKAY

photo by sitruc, 2006, seoul, korea

A little black tale.

of my recent visit / purchase in yygallery, 5cm, Gay Giano, Cour Carre, 01TheOne, ScaredCow, Twentyuntil.

L'art de fleur.

A new startling discovery I made, that the mess on my home desk and flower arranging art are kindred tribes. Definitely it helps rationalize my hesitancy to tidy up.

Oui! Who's in the room cruel enough to ruin the artwork!

This exhibition will last till any given Sunday afternoon with nothing better to do than to pick up my room.

Admission's free. Enjoy.

Sabbath from decency.

Today I woke with an impulse to skip dressing decent. So I put on my jeans & tee to work, switched the Billie Holiday playlist to Love Psychedelico, clued a skyscraper hairstyle and sprayed too much perfume which choked myself a bit.

It feels like being 20. The age, the stage, I practically skipped.

Probably I'm too different to be recognized by my office PC that it refused to work properly for the whole day. Ergo I had to get it replaced at last.

Backstage.

and the model's doing her face













and she's massaging her mouth














and she's starring at the photographer's bare foot













and she couldn't hold her laugh













and the rubber band couldn't hold her hair

and it's a splendid shooting. BTW, I'm starting to think horoscope maybe is more than hot air for the increbible similitude bewteen Model Samantha and Photographer Sitruc, who have the same birthday.

PS: I like the perfumed pillow puts me to sleep
MS: Me too!

MS: My fellows at home are used to me as a trouble & choosy bastard
PS: Me too!

PS: I think it's your great anxiety to feel like getting stuck or moving downhill regardless of the absolute status or intrinsic value at all. Just like how I feel.
MS: (nod nod)

MS: This is right for her! Bjork's just act...
MS & PS:...freaky!

Toast for the spoiled kids born on 01/01!

Homed at 12.

A regular day with

1 meeting
13 emails sent
19 designer applications received
1 award call for entry
2 panadols
1 coke
1 iced tea
1/2 mooncake
1 printer break down
3 phone calls from 2 ex
2 sms from mum
1 wedding ceremony invitation

and it's good for it's regular.

69Cal

I took a sip of chocolate milk.
And I'm happy again.