At
the end of the page, once you obtain the password from me!
you will find the complete list of pictures and you can view them
in full scale there. Due to the original image size of these photos, it
may take a while to open them. Enjoy and have fun!!!!
Since I was very little, I liked telling stories. I was the only child then, and had very few audiences. As I grew up, I started to write these stories on the paper instead. The stories often had tragic endings. Reflecting from my parents' failed marriage, I saw reality, not fantasy in my eyes. I was convinced that real stories could not possibly contain happy endings.
As I grew up, I dreaded going to the weddings, for I rarely believe that the marriage would last. Instead, I sent checks and presents and made lame excuses on why I couldn't make it.
When I entered into my late twenties, I realize that perhaps the disillusion of reality is only a result of my own failed relationships, modeled after my parents', and perhaps, in order for me to seek the true happiness, first, I need to open my heart and eyes.
In Florence and Venice,
I took some black and white photos - in honor of the ancient history of
Italia, and in memory of the lost innocence. Those were the days when the
world was painted only in black and white, and when we had only love and
hate, those were the days when hope floated.
Scene #1 Thursday - Friday North Beach
Sunny Friday afternoon. A rare opportunity to lay on the grass, breath the warm autumn air of San Francisco, and bath under the sun. Washington Square, North Beach. You were there then, listened to my mumbling, you let me use your arms as my pillow, I lay next to you and felt full contentment all over. Happy? I asked myself. Yes indeed. Happy. Happy that I'm free, that I have a wonderful job, great network connections, terrific friends, and then some. Happy that I met you.
The night before, smoky blues bar by North Beach. I had too much to drink. I couldn't remember what you said, but something you said hit me hard, and I wanted to cry. There were butterflies in my stomach. I wanted to say something, something powerful and strong, something that would change the world, but nothing came up. So the world stayed the same.
We danced to the live band's performances. You dipped me when the song ended, you won't let me go then, instead you covered my lips with yours. My heart was racing. I thought, how strange, to indulge myself in this hard core romance. I had forgotten, what it was like once. There were a range of emotions that rushed into my drunken mind - love, lust, impulsiveness, inspiration, craziness, sensational, longing, fear, gratitude, tension, surreal...
I am used to the power of sex. When I can't
express myself in an emotional way, I express myself sexually.
Romance has always been the by product of
seduction. It is never intentional, in fact, it disappears right after
seduction finishes her business.
I always go for the shocking effect. My friends can vouch for that. Somewhere between twenty and twenty three strange life events had pushed me over the edge. The old self died and the new self surfaced.
Earlier that night, at Michael Angelo's on Columbus, you told me that you received an email. In this email it said that the color you perceive someone provides an indication of what type of feeling you have towards that person. "So, think, what color do I remind you of?" I said it without hesitation, not letting you throwing out any example of colors to choose from, "white. Definitely white." I didn't let you to guess what color you thought of me neither. I was so sure then, so I said, "You think of me as red." You said, "yes, I do." I didn't know why I said what I said, yet, instinctively I could not think of any other color for me or you.
"White means that person is your soul mate." You said to me.
"Yeah, right!" I let out a sarcastic laugh.
"So what's red?". I asked you.
"I can't remember." You told me.
"I'll show you the email when we get back to the apartment. You can
see it for yourself.." You added.
Something really strange is happening between us. Something very alarming. I want to escape, desperately. I have places to go, people to see, things to do. I ran to my friends in fear of what I would discover otherwise.
Friday night, Palomino's by Embarcadero. Twenty of us were there. Two sets of friends finally met face to face. I love my friends. Through my years of search, search for truth, love and integrity, I found them, little by little, and one by one, they have become an integral part of my life. I have, failed many little episodes with men who I thought could be the one, but I have never lost a friend. I dread holidays because I have no family to go home to, it's them who take me in on those Thanksgivings, Christmas and New Years. They have seen the full range of my emotions, they have seen me being beaten down, depressed, crazy, calm and happy. They don't mind it at all. I go for the shocking value, I shock the system a little, surprise the outsiders a bit, but I can never turn my friends away. They tease me a lot, but I know they love me just the same way I love them back. I know, even if I have nothing left in this world, I still have my friends to count on. I'm grateful because of their existence.
This is a cynical and picky group. Not everyone fits in. Especially those dates people bring to the gatherings. They are outsiders. I still don't know why we make it such a difficult case to accept an outsider. A girlfriend of ours brought her date to our gathering later on in North Beach later that night. Within 5 minutes, we gave him thumbs down because he reminded us her ex, he was arrogant, he was trying to hard...
This is a very protective group. "Outsiders" won't understand the dynamics of my friends. "I think we should have a community marriage. We should all get married to each other and then we won't have to worry about outsiders." It was obviously silly but it sounded good when I said it that night.
Still, we accept new friends with open arms. We recruit people who have personality. But it takes time to build the friendship. It takes certain personality, certain corkiness, certain characters to fit in. But we are crazy. Yes we can be crazy. We can be loud, obnoxious, oblivious of others, and we can act like dorks. Everything and anything goes. To a larger and ambiguous extent, this is a very incestuous group.
Sometimes when I get confused about my emotional life, I run to my friends. I declare my single hood by acting silly. I disclaim everything. I'm truly afraid - afraid of being heart broken again. But with my friends, I know that I can find comfort. This is how life goes.
After dinner, we ended up our night at Savoy Tivoli. By 1:30 am , we had pretty much exhausted ourselves with loud speeches and silly behaviors. North Beach has become - rapidly, the place to be. After exploring So. Market and the Marina in the last few years, we've headed straight to the exotic part of the town. Where next, we haven't figured it out. I'm sure one of those days, one of us will find a happening spot and we'd be all over it. But for now, North Beach is the heaven.
At night I had a dream about you. Strange Dream. Like a water bubble flowing on top of the ocean bay, crystal clear, yet only visible for the last two seconds.
In this dream you told me, Red meant love. The person who reminded
you of red, was the one who you loved the most.
Saturday I went to a symphony with an old friend of mine. After the symphony we met at Royal Oaks off Polk and Vallejo, a frequent place by the girls. There I met up with my other friends.
I checked my voice mail. I had three missed calls. All from him. He called. I've not heard from him for a long time. Saturday night, East Coast time two a.m. He called both of my cell phone numbers and my home phone. It was me who loved him first, who rendered all my attention to him. It was me who had given out more. I loved him with all my heart but I never told him so - for I was afraid that he won't be able to say the same thing back. I didn't push the call back button. I had millions of thoughts that went through my mind. and none of them can be explained by words.
At the Boom Boom Room by Geary and Fillmore, I met a girl who dated a guy I dated briefly. We exchanged those horror stories - his intensity and his lies went hand in hand. Like another girl who dated him years ago also, she was somewhat heart broken by him as well. Like those other girls, they were also enraged by him. He had a talent, he was intense, he was gorgeous, he was intelligent, he was sensuous, and he perfected lying like Tiger Wood perfected golf - at such a young age. I told her that I was never serious with him. I told her that he was one of many. He was no more than a boy toy - intense, maybe, sexual, maybe, but he was never cut out to be the one. I trusted my instinct always. There were signs from the very start that meant he was bad news. Hence I stayed emotionally distinct and continued on with my own life. To protect myself from getting hurt, I had set up escape routes. When the shit hit the fence, I was prepared to bail without having to lose much integrity myself. I never believed in losing posture, or grace over a man. I never believed being catty over a man. I'd rather let a man go to another girl than trying to fight over him. I never believed in possessing a man.. And when I got upset over his childish behavior, I smiled. I smile with the worldly bravery. I put out a gracious smile and let the world be known that I had possessed no devils, no jealousy, no hard feelings, no discomfort. Saving face was a virtue I adapted from my ancestors. I perfected them the same way that boy, named Stinky perfected his circles of lies. But I seek out revenge behind his back. Silently and secretively. In the end I know I can call it even. Women. You can never trust them.
I practiced my life style against a poem I once read:
" And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and
presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your
defeats
with your head up and your
eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on
today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of
falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting
for someone to bring you
flowers. "
I was so childish then when I first read it. I loved someone who I couldn't have.
That night I got drunk again, like Thursday night, like Friday night,
three nights in a row, I was getting all the drinking out of my system.
And I was getting all the thoughts out of the system. After one night of
drinking, I'd come home, stay up until sunrise, write random thoughts down.
I was seeing all the faces. My past flowed in front of my eyes. I saw that
innocent girl dying, I saw my naivety dancing, I saw everything. I had
all the clarity I needed, I knew what love was, what love is, I knew whom
I loved. I had all the issues in the world, I had all the answers in the
world, and I had all the love in the world, but I had no where to go, no
one to turn. I ran into a dead end, there was no lights at the end of tunnel.
I feared that I was in a permanent darkness, I feared of loving someone
again, I feared that I would be hurt, so all I could do was making up stories
in my head, all I could do, was to think that he too, had loved me back
too.
| Venice' canal | Vick in Firenze | Vick in Venice |
| The old man in Venice's garden | Hanging out in Venice w/ a friend | Water replacing landing |
