Mart-deBlog

The 'aesthetomania' post before was about being depended on beauty for undertaking the right actions (behaving young, spontaneous, happy etc), no matter whether it is only about being able to dance on beautiful music or only being able to go for attractive girls. But against which standards? Yourself maybe. Acting on ugly things would make you old, boring and tasteless; a big problem in case you find yourself ugly.

I just got back to UCU. The reaction was similar to when I got back from Hong Kong, basically: "you look like shit." Of course they are more specific, like that I am getting bold (people talk to my extended forehead) and look old (when professor compared me with an 2 year old picture: "what the hell happened to you?") This is nothing new and I clearly know that my judgements are not justified by my looks, I have always hated my face and behaviour just as much as other ugly things. I started to wonder, is the ugly only allowed to search for the same level of ugliness? Should one only like the like? Should the old enjoy the old and the pimple-head enjoy the pimple-head? I don't know. If yes, we would be fatalistically doomed to become boring and tasteless because while we grow uglier we should trash ideals and be okay with ugliness. If not, a person who finds itself ugly would either stay alone or always be stuck with a gap between what he likes and what she likes (because he dislikes himself while she likes him), actually making her old, boring and tasteless with the things he needs to act upon.

"Life sucks sometimes" Or save yourself and tell me where it goes wrong...

I just got back from Berlin. As the worldwide consensus goes: Berlin is the place. And it's true, really, there is something about Berlin that makes it edgy in the right way. I've been in Berlin a couple of times now and if every trip had a different theme, this time it would evolve around Renaissance, paintings and museums. All with a twist though: the experienced paintings were still framed in the rough, say postmodern, feel of Berlin. It added a layer of classicism to the experiences of the hip-hip, the suave. But then the ugly question is: what is this something about Berlin? Maybe one of the things that makes Berlin the place to be is this juxtaposition of glory and wasteland with bygone primes still feeling anew and alive (punkers, hippies and other rewinds do not seem to search for the past as they would in NL but they have found it and shed off all nostalgia with a beer and a wurst). But then again, asking this question is exactly what makes one outside the city and not within. Anyway, there is phat chance I will be studying there next year and I look forward to become someone in Berlin instead of something about Berlin.

This is my last post post about Hong Kong. "This is my last post about Hong Kong" will be the most clear-cut note about the end of my exchange; without a list of favorites, what I miss most or the way Hong Kong has changed my character. Luckily I have not been forced to tell tiring strings of anecdotes, which is sort of enlightening at the moment of storytelling but depressing afterwards. Nothing but politeness would force me to tell my experiences as if they were the scene selection on a dvd. It's like this nasty corruption of telling a dream. For now I like the past experiences to be continuous with the present and have them vividly outside the polished frames of stories. And that is it.
Ps: This blog continues with more a sense of personalities and fictions instead of the subjective documentaries coloured by the other-worldyness of Hong Kong, I hope you still find it worthy to have an occasional look.