Things that make me ping are love, women, classical music, good writings, unique ideas, childlike innocence, fair play, beauty...and this blog is about these lovely things...

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

To Shiny No. 1


This afternoon, I went to the Hung Hom terminal to have the train tickets refunded. It is the place I went about twice a week before to catch trains to Guangzhou. After getting the refunds, I went to the McDonald's there to have a bite. The pace, the posture, the environs were so familiar as if I was there just yesterday. I sat there for about an hour, watching people eat, seeing people come and go, then, by the end of the hour, I picked myself up and left, a fresh man.

I had thought of buying a pack of beef jerky as a gift for Maggie from the 美珍味 store there. Girls of her age change their tastes quite often, but I think she would still savor beef jerky. I walked past the store, stood there for a moment, thought of buying a pack for myself instead, didn't, and walked on.

Last night, I thought of your nipping idea of writing a story about us--at the time, you said it was the love story between a communist and a capitalist. What transpired after the love had begun to fade--at least from your end--is even more arresting to me. Now I think I will write it.

I was asked to write for the South China Morning Post a few years back. It is an English newspaper in Hong Kong. I didn't think I had much to say, nor did I think my English was good enough. Writing is a craft that needs practice, in addition to needing some talents. I don't think I have talents, but I've been paying attention to how some good writings have moved me, so after a while, I should have learned something. Last night, lying on bed, with the thoughts rambling here and there, I allowed myself the idea of starting to drop my thoughts down on a consistent basis, say, once a day or once every two days. That would be a good drill. Perhaps, after some workouts, I would consider myself fitting to write for a newspaper. Then I thought of who I should write to. Of course, I can write to myself. That's what a diary is for. But having a different audience would command that much more drive to the exercise, and I can't think of a more attractive audience than you. I should have started doing this four years ago, and then things may have a different ending...



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