To start with, this film somehow manage to made you find your own stories amongst the jumping scenes, simple everyday dialogues and the different plots of this movie on soul searching and lost love. It's a typical romantic film about feelings, broken hearts and hopes (or hopelessness for that matter) with some insertion of betrayal, suicide and gambling.
Norah Jones as a starring role with Jude Law didn't particularly interest me until I saw who directed the movie. It's another one of Wong Kar Wai's film which I'm a big fan of after watching In The Mood For Love starring Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung. The cinematography is the usual hip and artistic style of Wong Kar Wai's movie with blurred motions of lights, jumping scenes and focus shots of the artists or chosen objects that appeared repeatedly as a iconic part of the whole movie. Combined with a backdrop of soundtracks ranging from Norah Jones' own song to Otis Redding and a borrowed melody by Gustavo Santaolalla from The Motorcyle Diary, the director succeeded to maintain the artistic hip urban feelings throughout the different settings from the opening scenes of a New York So Ho cafe to a bar in Memphis, Tennessee and gambling place in Las Vegas.
This combination of cinematography and romantic screenplay by Lawrence Block produced a charming and simple philosophical story tied together mostly by Jude Law as the So Ho cafe owner and Norah Jones over discussions of a jar full of key chains left by broken hearted or betrayed couples while eating blueberry pie. "Sometimes, even if you have the keys those doors still can't be opened. Can they?" is one of the quotes in this movie that basically summed up the whole process of soul searching done by Norah Jones who took a bus from New York to Memphis and Las Vegas.
The supporting artists like Rachel Weisz, Natalie Portman and David Strathairn provide the complete knots in the different plots with their strong acting that has made this movie worthwhile to see.
"It took me nearly a year to get here. It wasn't so hard to cross that street after all, it all depends on who's waiting for you on the other side." is an ending line that signifies the soul searching is over. Like I said, you could find your own stories in this movie. If you dare to look. I did, and it was enough to made me smile.
My Blueberry Nights is a 2007 film directed by Wong Kar Wai, starring Norah Jones and Jude Law. It also features Rachel Weisz, Natalie Portman, David Strathairn and Cat Power. It is Wong's first feature film in English.
My Blueberry Nights was the opening film for the 2007 Cannes Film Festival on May 16, 2007.
I looked at the different bottled preserved fruits line up in a three levels rack. The different flavors from strawberry, orange marmalade to mixed blueberry and lemon made up a display of colorful bottles of both local made and imported fruit jam. My eyes scanned the different brands and trying to remembered which one of these brand I bought the last time. I had my taxi waiting for me outside and told the driver to let the meter running as I only needed a moment to get a certain flavored jam which I have always bought for someone. My next destination was to dropped of this bottle of jam before hurried back to the office for an afternoon meeting.
Somehow, that day I couldn't seemed to get my mind made up of which brand to choose. It wasn't a hectic time of day for grocery shopping and the bottled and packaged confectioneries aisle and sweets where I was standing facing the colorful rack was empty. I decided to take my time and continued to concentrate on the imported brands and trying hard to remembered the brand I bought the last time.
Vaguely I could hear The Carpenter's "Yesterday Once More" played over the supermarket's PAs and standing there looking at the colorful bottled jars the empty and quiet aisle became my private space.
When I was young
I'd listen to the radio
Waitin' for my favorite songs
When they played I'd sing along
It made me smile..
The romantic melody by The Carpenters soon shifted to a more upbeat and intense punk version by Redd Kross singing that same song in my head in that quiet empty aisle. Slowly the colorful jars of preserved fruits turned to empty clear jar filled with water and bright color gold fish swimming inside.
Yesterday once more was now a flashback of a young teenager walking by himself on an autumn day. The colorful autumn leaves fallen from the trees covered the sidewalk like a mixed of reddish and yellowish carpet. He dragged his sneakers over the carpet of leaves and smiled on the music he made from the movement of dry leaves brushing themselves against one another. He had been walking a few blocks from his house and had no particular place to go. Earlier he was lying on his bed in the attic of his house after school and looking at the colorful trees outside his window pane he decided to take a walk on that autumn afternoon by himself. He loved the cool September wind especially like that day where it was cooler than usual. The slightly cold wind made his usually frizzy hair during the humid summer weather felt lighter and straight. He enjoyed the feeling of his hair flew freely over his forehead and fell nicely slightly covering his eyes. It made him feels invisible from the rest of the world and taking him to his own solitude corner where he sometime hide to find emotional ease and peace.
Up ahead he saw a busy intersection and a line up of small neighborhood stores. He decided to take a turn to avoid the crowded area and continued walking on a quiet street. His mind wandered aimlessly in his imaginary solitary corner. It was a corner that existed since he was younger although he couldn't exactly remembered when was that corner built. Being the eldest in his family he found out that many things he had to learned by himself. When he was younger learning everything for the first time often had the outcomes of mistakes and disapproval from his parents. At times like that he often went to his solitary corner searching for someone to hold his hands and guided him to undo his mistakes. Growing older he decided to keep this corner of his and still wished that somewhere there he would found an angel that would held his hands and guided him through the running race of life. This search of comfort had also made him intuitive to the needs of other, especially the happiness of his storybook angel, the fictitious friend he depended so much for his search of happiness. The late September wind got stronger towards the late afternoon and he felt more dry leaves fell from the oak trees lining up on that quiet street. He looked up as he walks and could caught a glimpse of squirrels jumping off amongst the tree branches. Continued walking and made another turn headed back to the directions of his house the playful squirrels reminded him of his unfed pet gold fish up in his attic bedroom which he bought recently out of melancholic nostalgic reason about a movie he saw when he was much younger.
Who is the girl with the crying face
Looking at millions of signs
She knows that life is a running race
Her face shouldn't show any sides
The visionary jar with water and swimming gold fish started to disappear and I quickly grabbed a bottle of imported orange marmalade. By the time I paid at the cashier and went outside to find my cab, I saw that it was raining. Running to the cab with my bottled preserved fruits inside a supermarket plastic bag I told the driver my next destinations which was only a few blocks away.
Who is the girl at the window pane
Watching the rain falling down
Melody, life isn't like the rain
It's just like a merry go round
The soundtrack of the boy nostalgic movie kept playing in my head. I got to my destination and dropped off the plastic bag to someone who answered the door. Just before, while still sitting in the back seat of the cab, I gave the plastic bag an imaginary sealed with a loving kiss gesture.
Inspired by a British movie (1971) Melody Fair a.k.a S.W.A.L.K (Sealed With A Loving Kiss). Strarring Jack Wild, Mark Lester and Tracy Hyde. Screenplay by the now famous director Alan Parker
Kulihat rangkaian batu alam berwarna hijau itu tergeletak diatas meja dengan salah satu ujungnya yang cacat tanpa kaitan.
"Rantai cerita terputus" kebiasaan menterjemahkan sesuatu hal kecil dan menjadikannya sebuah kejadian besar muncul begitu saja dibenakku. Imaginasi tolol itu kemudian aku teruskan dengan mulai menghitung satu persatu batu yang terangkai menjadi sebuah gelang itu dari ujung yang satu ke ujung yang lain.
Ada sembilan batu gempeng yang terbagi menjadi tiga bagian yang terpisahkan oleh sepotong hiasan perak. Gelang batu alam itu selalu menjadi perhiasan yang paling sering aku pakai dibanding dengan pernak pernik lain yang aku miliki. Aku suka merasakan dinginnya permukaan batu-batu itu menyentuh permukaan pergelangan tanganku setiap kali aku mulai memakainya. Suhu badanku kemudian perlahan menjalar lewat kulit dan tanpa kusadari rasa dingin yang tadinya ada telah hilang. Sebuah proses yang terjadi dari aksi dan interaksi antara dua zat alami.
Biasanya aku lalu suka memutar-mutar gelang itu dipergelangan tanganku sambil menyentuh satu persatu batu yang ada dan merasakan kehangatan yang sama antara batu-batu itu dan kulit tubuhku. Peristiwa ini mengingakanku akan kehangatan-kehangatan lain yang kurasakan seperti turunnya hujan dihari yang terik, aroma kopi dipagi hari, tertidur lelap di sofa yang empuk, sampai bahkan kepada peristiwa masa kecil dimana ibuku menggandeng tanganku di hari pertama masuk sekolah.
Sebilan batu alam itu seperti rangkaian peristiwa yang menyatukan semua kehangatan itu dan memberikan rasa nyaman yang luar biasa setiap kali memakainya di pergelangan tanganku. Sembilan batu ajaib itu kini sedang cacat tanpa kaitan yang berfungsi menyatukan rasa nyaman yang tersimpan dalam batu-batu itu dan mengalirkannya kedalam tubuhku.
Aku bangkit dari dudukku dan mencari alat yang dapat kupakai untuk memperbaiki kaitan yang lepas itu. Sambil memegang ujung yang cacat dan mengencangkan kaitan yang lepas dari jepitannya dengan sebuah tang imajinasi tololku kembali memikirkan angka sembilan dalam bentuk yang lain.
Umur kehamilan biasanya sembilan bulan Kucing katanya punya sembilan nyawa Sembilan puluh sembilan nama Allah Ronaldo dari AC Milan memakai kaos dengan nomer sembilan.
Tiba-tiba aku memikirkan sebuah permainan angka: Urutan kesembilan dalam bilangan bulan dalam satu tahun dan gabungan angka dua dan tujuh yang penjumlahannya menjadi angka sembilan. Sembilan ternyata memang angka yang keramat.
Va ti aspettero Il fiore nel giardino segna il tempo Qui disegnero il giorno poi del tuo ritorno Sei cosi sicura del mio amore Da portarlo via con te Chiuso nelle mani che ti porti al viso Ripensando ancora a me E se ti servira lo mostri al mondo Che non sa che vita c'e Nel cuore che distratto sembra assente Non sa che vita c'e In quello che soltanto il cuore sente Non sa.
"Kemana ?" "Kesana sebentar" "Aku tunggu sini, k ?" "Ok"
Drtttt.....drttt.....drtttt..... Bunyi alarm getar dari handphoneku dan angka digital di monitornya menunjukan jam 4.30 pagi. Sepotong mimpi pendek mengakhiri tidurku.
Kubuka keran air dan menampung air dingin yang keluar dengan kedua tanganku serta membasuh mukaku.
"Go, and take my feelings with you in your cupped hands so you can always feel them when you put your hands on your face". Terngiang terjemahan sepotong lirik dari sebuah lagu Itali dalam benak sambil merasakan dinginnya air menyentuh kulit mukaku.
Qui ti aspettero E rubero i baci al tempo Tempo che non basta a cancellare Coi ricordi il desiderio che Resta chiuso nelle mani che ti porti al viso Ripensando a me E ti accompagnera passando le citta da me Da me che sono ancora qui E sogno cose che non so di te Dove sara che strada fara il tuo ritorno Sogno
"Hapus aja semua" "Semua ?" "Iya, block all dan cut" "Ok"
Fungsi cut and paste memang praktis untuk menghapus maupun memindahkan data yang besar dalam sekejap.
"Sayang dihapus semua" "Ga papa, masih ada di memory kok, mau diliat balik? "Iya" "Control V aja"
Sebuah senyum manis muncul mensyukuri kehebatan penyimpanan memori dari sebuah kejadian.
Qui ti aspettero E rubero i baci al tempo Sogno
"Mau kemana ?" "Pergi" "Aku tunggu ?" "Ga usah"
Panas yang terik membuatku terbangun dari tidur siangku diteras belakang. Sambil bangkit dari kursi malas kusambar sebotol Aqua dimeja dan langsung kuteguk sekaligus kusiram kemukaku. Masih setengah mengantuk dan kepanasan kuletakkan kembali botol Aqua besar itu dimeja dengan posisi miring. Botol yang setengah penuh itu jatuh dan sebagian isinya tumpah keatas keyboard laptopku.
"Warning: Keep away computer from source of liquid and protect from damp area". Terngiang sebuah bunyi petunjuk pemeliharaan komputer dari buku panduan
Un rumore il vento che mi sveglia E sei gia qua.
Kali ini bukan mimpi. Aku usap keringat dari mukaku sambil menatap layar monitorku dan merenung atas hilangnya memori dari semua kejadian dalam sekejap.
Drtttt.....drttt.....drtttt..... Bunyi alarm getar dari handphoneku dan angka digital di monitornya menunjukan jam 4.30 pagi. Sebuah mimpi panjang yang terdiri dari berbagai mimpi-mimpi pendek mengakhiri tidurku.
Aku duduk dipinggir tempat tidurku memikirkan harus melalui hari yang masih sangat panjang.
Here I will wait for you And steal kisses from time I dream A noise, the wind awakens me And you're already here.
Terngiang kembali terjemahan lirik bait terakhir dari lagu yang sama dalam mimpiku tadi. Aku tersenyum pahit menyadari kenyataan, mimpi dan sepotong lirik lagu.
The driver turned on his radio without even asking me whether I would mind if he listened to some music. I sat in the back seat not really caring and closed my eyes. Soon I heard through my closed eyes the not so old driver started humming to this unknown song. I sighed silently but let him had his moment of joy. I was just too exhausted to even mind his out of tune humming and kept my eyes closed and tried to get a moment of sleep. Luckily the out of tune hummer knew where to take me when I told him earlier about my address.
"Good, then don't even bother to ask me which route I want to take, okay. I want to sleep" I said. "I can't promise you we don't get stuck in traffic" he replied trying to build some way out of getting the blame in case we got stuck in a rush hour traffic jam.
"Don't you turned into a politician on me, will you?" I sarcastically said to him. "The whole damn city is a traffic jam at this hour, so don't you worry about getting the blame to some broken promises" I continued with even a higher tone of cynicism.
"Everyone is a damn politician" I sighed silently and slouch back in the back seat.
The unknown song has gone and replace by another unknown song. The humming loyally followed another alien tune. I moved my hand from a folding position to my side and started to feel the surface of the vinyl backseat of the cab with my palm.
"Felt so different from leather" I started to thought about the feeling of genuine animal skin and tried to formed a scent of real leather in my sleepy head.
Suddenly I heard a familiar song I knew from a long time ago came out from the radio. My mind started to go with the mood and feeling slightly nostalgic. The driver was still doing his out of tune humming.
"Stop it dude, I know this one" I said. "Sorry ?" he replied "Stop the noise you're making, it ruined the song" I said, this time louder. "Ah, you have memory with this song, huh? he grinned from behind the rear view mirror. "Yes and you are destroying a beautiful picture so shut up !" I said. "Okay...okay happy daydreaming" he said, this time the grinned grew wider.
"Jerk !" I cursed silently.
I closed my eyes again and started feeling the moodiness brought by the song, awakening some strong feelings about the past. I smiled and continued to enjoy the ride to the past. The song seemed to evoke all the senses in me and brought back my addictions to emotional pleasure and pain as well.
"the delights of sensuality " I whispered silently.
The song was over and replace by a voice of a radio announcer. The driver switched to several other stations before he stopped at one that was playing another alien song.
"Now you can make the noise again" I told him. "I don't like this one" he said. "Good, then don't make the noise" I said in an ordering tone. "Okay sir !" he said.
The previous nostalgic song somewhat made my sleepiness gone away and replaces it with a few physical and emotional tingling feelings. The imaginary leather I felt just now brought me to a touching of skin scene on a leather sofa somewhere. I could hear the soft whispering noise of a movie unwatched on the TV and movement beneath a soft thin wool blanket.
I close my eyes tighter as if to fight the humming noise that has started again so it won't wrecked the sofa scene. It worked and I started to drowned in deeper emotions. This time it was the scent of wet grass shortly after a morning rain coming in from an open window, This has brought another scene of white bed sheets and scent of musky body odor mixed with freshly brewed coffee.
"Caffeine maybe has always been a stimulating experience, but that and the scent of rain and the sight of naked skin..." I couldn't even continued with my thought and instead sighed again as I got more intoxicated in a mix of emotional pleasure and pain.
I read somewhere that people who are exceptionally sensual live for the moment and are not hung up on the future or the past.
"Bullshit !" I cursed within.
What life has to offer is all about expectations of the future and pain of the past. Without them there won't be any strong feeling to relate to and all the five human senses won't mean anything.
"It won't be living" I concluded.
But then I thought again, the strong senses that made me drowned in emotions without a life vest won't mean anything either since I realized I felt it so strongly because I'm alone !.
"Damn senseless sensuality" I screamed, still silently. "Okay sir, we're here" the driver said.
I paid him the fare and left a big tip. It was raining again outside. Wet and damp and yes it smelled nice. I finally concluded that I rather keep finding the smell of rain pleasing or the taste of fresh marmalade soothing even though they brought me pain. I got out of the cab and heard the hummer thanking me.
"Thank you boss, you're very kind" he said. "Your welcome, you made me a very unhappy person" I said and closed the door.
She looked at me. With a rigid smile with no hint of emotion but a mechanical twitch on her face. A movement created by some complicated back process programming language that sent by the central processing unit to respond to a reaction by a human near her.
Dress all black. In a John Galiano’s outfit and moves with ease around the room keeping her eyes on the powerful giant computer screen displaying an image a satellite picture of the a deserted land somewhere in the Middle East. Her slender yet full figured body bends as she touches few buttons enhancing the curves of a perfectly build woman. Her eyes focus on the screen with an intense look that contradicts the face of a melancholic beauty that seems to come from an unknown ethnic origin.
I watched her. The almost human robot with skills ranging from mastering all martial arts known to the world to a DJ spinning the latest rave including the intelligent of understanding ancient Egyptian manuscripts and Chinese Caligprahy.
She looked at me. This time the usual empty gaze flickered momentarily with a touch of human emotion.
Sadness.
A computer named Elodie had a mechanical malfunction that cause her to have a melody of heart beat.
She looked at me. I gazed back and understood that she did not want me to fix the malfunction and to just let it be.
She looked at me. I smiled and my gaze told her that I understood.
A long forgotten unfinished writing. Tonight it is done.
It's funny how when you know that you were asleep but you're feeling something else that felt so real. Next thing you know you woke up sad in the middle of the night, lighted up a cigarette and thinking about this;
flat words casual gestures
felt like a sharp pain
closed doors unshared thoughts
felt like a cold solitude
they say it takes two to tango what it feels now is an endless one way highway
felt like an empty cold desert night
Next thing you know you felt sleepiness creeping back in and you're thankful for that. Tomorrow is another day.
Mataku menatap sebuah sudut sepi di ujung sana. Sebuah ruang hampa yang kini hanya bertepikan sandaran tangan kayu. Bangku taman dari kayu jati tua dengan ruang yang hanya cukup untuk dua orang itu terasa seperti lautan lepas tanpa daratan dilihat dari dimana aku duduk di sisi kanan.
Termangu aku duduk menatap berbagai guratan-guratan panjang maupun pendek yang ada di sandaran kayu dan dudukan bangku itu. Setiap guratan garis seakan bercerita kembali kepadaku kisah-kisah lama yang muncul dalam bayangan layar bergerak di kepalaku.
Kembali mataku menatap sudut kiri bangku taman itu. Sisa hujan semalam masih meninggalkan bekas noda basah dengan warna yang lebih gelap dibanding bagian lain. Setetes air hujan bahkan masih tergenang di sebuah lubang kecil disandaran tangan kayu. Permukaannya yang bening dan tenang menikmati keberadaannya di ruang kosong tak berpenghuni seakan seperti bola mata yang menatapku kembali dengan riang. Aku menatap kembali dan mencoba berdialog dengan tetes air hujan yang riang itu. Terpikir olehku mungkin dia senang nasibnya lebih baik dari para temannya yang jatuh disisi kanan bangku. Tetes-tetes air hujan yang kini telah lenyap entah terlempar atau terserap kulit atau pakaianku selama aku sering duduk terdiam disudut itu.
Mataku berbisik kepada si tetes air hujan dan meminta maaf telah melenyapkan teman-temannya. Sering terpikir mungkin lebih baik aku tidak duduk lagi disudutku dan pergi meninggalkan bangku taman itu. Mata basah riang itu seakan tersenyum dan mengajak ku untuk tetap menemaninya.
"ini adalah tempatmu dan sudut itu adalah dirimu. Jangan takut, teman-temanku akan kembali lagi di hari hujan yang berikutnya" katanya
"aku merasa ada yang hilang dan ini bukan tempatku lagi" bisik ku
"sisi itu sudah menjadi tempatmu dan guratan garis cerita yang ada disini tidak akan pernah hilang. bangku ini adalah rumah bagimu" katanya lagi
"aku sebelum ini tidak pernah memperhatikanmu" aku meminta maaf kepada teman baruku itu
"senyum mu setiap kali hujan turun adalah perhatianmu kepadaku dan teman-temanku" katanya tetap riang
Aku tersenyum melihat kepolosan dan ketulusan setetes air hujan itu.
"duduklah disisi ini. jangan takut kehilangan diriku karena bagian dari ku selalu akan kembali ke bangku ini setiap kali hujan" katanya lagi
Aku mengangguk dan tersenyum mendengar janjinya yang mencoba menenangkan hatiku.
"Aku akan coba pada waktunya nanti untuk duduk disisi mu" jawabku berjanji
"Jangan lupa untuk membawa lemon cheesecake kesukaan mu. Aku suka aroma jeruknya" dia mengingatkanku atas salah satu ritual di bangku taman itu
Aku menganguk lagi dan seakan bisa merasakan sisa rasa jeruk di lidahku dari entah kapan saat terakhir kali aku memakan sepotong lemon cheesecake.
Mother Nature was playing one of her weird tricks again this week by showering the city with drizzles and sometime heavy rain in the middle of May. Although it was nothing to complaint about from my part as I always welcomed a dreamy rainy day anytime of the year, I realized that global warming was not just a theory anymore.
I finally got out of the car after a heavy negotiation with a narrow parking space across a cafe where my next appointment was waiting for me. Putting up a hood of my windbreaker to shelter my shoulder length hair from the drizzles I waited patiently to cross the two-ways street. Standing next to the parking guy I felt glad that I put on my slip – on ankle high waterproof suede shoes today. I watched raindrops just slipped off the leather surface before it had time to put any moisture on the shoes. The suede leather is putting up a better fight with the rain water than me trying to seek an opening to cross the street from the fast passing by of sleek, latest model cars with merciless drivers who did not feel the need to slow down and let a pedestrian in the rain the chance to cross the street.
“Dumb ass city snobs of a dumb ass city who made any person on foot felt like a freaking low class caste” I cursed within.
This sudden shame of being a lame pedestrian in the rain and the ego to both expressing my rights of a public street as well as to compete with my slip – on shoes, I shamelessly decided to cross the street on the expense of a blaring car horn coming from an army green Range Rover from my right. Between the car wipers I saw a middle age lady driver in dark Jackie O glasses. I complimented on her blaring car horn with a nice “fuck you” smile and added a finger gesture to support my thoughts of her.
“she must has a really blinding bright future ahead of her to wear dark glasses in a weather like this” I wondered as I got to the other side of the street and opened the café’s door. Another blaring horn was heard, most likely Jackie O was thanking me for the finger gesture.
“Another sound coming from that Jackie O wannabe bitch is really going to kill any dreamy mood left in me from this nice rainy afternoon” the fears of a ruined rainy day feeling began to creep in as I walked in but luckily those fears were deleted by the sweet smile of a female attendant who greeted me. Briefly forgotten about the Jackie O character I smiled back and signaled with my hand for a table for two. With unforced politeness she gave a genuine sweet smile again and told me to just choose any table in the room. I thanked her and picked a table by the wall which divided the room in half as I saw a corner table by the window was already taken.
“…why can’t at least rainy day turned people to be sweet like her” my mind went back to the crossing street episode which I thought was already forgotten. Coffee aroma filled the place that has a rather wide range offering of coffee on its menu. I knew that I was going to be early for this appointment and welcomed the thought of spending some time alone with myself and a shot of espresso. Ordering just that with another attendant who had a rose tattoo on her shoulder I then sat back and looked at my table top. It was standard table setting for any neighborhood bistro with salt and pepper container, napkin holder and an ashtray. Quickly they got to meet their new companion of my cigarette and lighter. Waiting for my order I played around with the clean white ceramic ashtray, moving it in circling motion with my hand. I could hear the sound of rain got louder outside and wished that someone would opened a window to let the smell of rain breezed into the room. That thought made me looked at the occupant of the corner table by the window just a few tables away from mine. My view of her was blocked by an attendant who I thought must be taking another order from her as she possessed an air of having been sitting there awhile and waiting for someone to come.
As dreamy thoughts on the occupant of that window table were forming I felt my mobile phone vibrate. The espresso came at the same time. I removed the clean ashtray in front of me by pushing it aside and let the tattooed attendant put the small cup in the same small space.
“….traffic is a mesh because of the rain, will be about 20 minutes late” the short message told me about the delay. “...ok, no probs” I replied thankful for the extra solitude moment with myself.
It wasn’t an urgent meeting anyway other than to cross check a few details that can be done over email. Sipping my espresso my gaze went back to that window table. There were already two glasses on her table and one of them seemed to be filled with soda water. The cafe attendant walked away from her table as I saw her shaking her head signaling that she was fine with what she has ordered so far. She then sipped with a straw from one glass; the other seemed to be empty and untouched. Her empty table top other than those two glasses gave me a sense that corner table was choked with a mix of deep emotions of hope and solitude. The whole scene reminded me of my still clean ashtray resting in solitaire on top of a table waiting until the arrival of burned cigarettes that will fulfill its purpose for existence.
She also had the same white ceramic ashtray but the white surface was covered by ashes and filled with burned butts which confirmed my guessed that she has been sitting there for awhile. Having only separated by a short distance my usual quirkiness then tried to count how many of those cigarettes had been burned.
“..Eight burned ciggies and soon to be nine with one she’s still smoking now” I concluded as I lighted my own cigarette and deeply inhaled before putting it on my own ashtray. Immediately I could see tiny particle of dust dropped into the white surface breaking the previous pure innocence white image. Another vibration came from my mobile next to the ashtray.
“….totally stuck bro. you still want to wait or what?” message from the same friend again. “…It’s your call. I can still be here for awhile” I replied. “…Ok, I’ll let you know how far I can move in the next ten minutes. Damn this city when it rains!!!” replied my friend immediately. I could felt the frustration already build up to rage in that message.
I saw her sipping her drink again slowly and shortly as if not wanting to empty the glass too soon while completely ignoring the other empty glass. She took another drag and inhaled deeply. I looked at my owned ashtray and could see the dirty dusts started to spread evenly on the surface. The purity of its whiteness is no longer there and further distorted by a black coal like mark as I stub the remains of my cigarettes to put it off. It was not a pretty sight anymore and it was only from my first smoke.
From the gaze on her face I expected her mind could have been miles from that table. Even with the rain and traffic, eight burned cigarettes was a really long pause until that other empty glass could serve its purpose. In the meantime, her white ceramic ashtray is busy filling up the long pause and produce a mountain of ashes from her burned cigarettes which completely broken its white innocence.
“It was her call….” I thought as watched her put out her ninth cigarette on the ashtray. Somehow I could associate with her decision to go through the waiting and maybe even the mellowness that came with it. I admired the hopeful gesture of ordering the other empty glass. She was probably crafting her art for her own happiness with the empty glass, trying to vaporize all the pain before she could appreciate the pleasure of her existence.
“A controlled sadness…” I thought again as I sipped half warm espresso by now. I wish someone could tell her how cool she looks at that corner table with that display of controlled sadness. It was her corner of solitude with her two glasses and a full dirty ashtray. As I lit my second smoke I found a new appreciation of her dirty ashtray as I knew now that it was the embodiment of sadness that can only came from a beautiful heart and mind.
I felt my table vibrating again and saw the light on my mobile phone was on. “It’s hopeless dude. Let’s meet up tomorrow...” I quickly replied the message telling my friend to not worry about it.
I decided it was time to go also. I watch her there sipping her soda slowly and heard The Smith's “I won’t share you” filled the room.
I wont share you, no I wont share you With the drive And the dreams inside This is my time
It was her time and I knew that once the pain vaporized, the empty glass will be filled or shared, either with someone or it was going to be filled with her own happiness. With that thought in mind I paid the bill and walking past by her table wished silently that her art of happiness will be a canvas painted with sweet ashes and a refreshing cold glass of Perrier next to it.
As I stepped outside and waited again in the rain to cross the street my dreamy mood returned to another truth of being a person belonging to the lowest class of social order. That and the reflection of what will the traffic be going back home made me cursed these other Jackie O version drivers who won’t let me cross the stress as well as the city officials who not only can’t manage the daily city traffic but also the floods that came every time the city got a little rain.
“All those people can kiss my sweet ass...” I cursed as I finally crossed the street in the rain.
The blinding morning sun shot through the windshield while a radio announcer's voice filled the car's interior chattering a morning program with her on - air guest on the latest lifestyle trend on mind and spirit. It was a typical morning program rundown of traffic report and weather forecast for the day. I drove the car for the last twenty minutes in the light morning rush hour. Something about morning radio program made people tuned in the minute they got into their cars. It was as if people were afraid to miss what went on in the rest of the world since they went to sleep the night before. Actually all you heard about is the usual heavy traffic everywhere and the same weather report as the day before due to the limited option of a two season country which was either hot or humid or rain with occasional report on sporadic flood.
It was late November and it has been raining almost daily. Surprisingly the sun was out that morning creating a shiny face on the still wet road from last night's rain. Funny how traffic seemed slower on wet road as if illustrating people walking on a slippery surface. My fingers kept pushing on the memory buttons switching stations without really looking for anything particular on the radio. As I entered the narrow streets of a trendy neighborhood light drizzle started to hit the windshield. The sun has taken shelter behind the now grey cloud. I stared ahead navigating the car through alley like streets with chic galleries and cafes lined up on both sides. I noticed other drivers started to have their wipers working as I stared ahead and watched droplets of water on the windshield.
My thought raced forward to what were waiting for me at work. The millions things that needed to be done on the newly acquired account and several other brand communication campaigns that needed to be strategize. Not to mention to looked after one or two still pending creative and technical executions on some new web development that needed to be presented to clients. Peculiar as it was certain trades tended to group together forming an illusion of images and envious observations to those outside the trade. Superficial as it may seem but it never failed to attract certain stereotypes. The neighborhood I was driving through was a good example. I was almost sure that whoever it was that developed the area didn't really plan it to turn out the way it was. In the last few years it has developed into a pleasant area surrounded with a bohemian flavor. Art galleries and cafes mixed together with modest small proprietor shops and residential for the upper-classes. As if it was not enough to commercialize the area, high - end retail shops soon followed accompanied by corporate of the creative trade such as ad agencies, creative boutiques, photography studios and production houses. "People watching" which was used to be the favorite past time belonging only to the residents has now became a commodity for sale especially on the week - ends. Not long after that a new campus for one of the top university relocated its schools of Architecture and Art & Design only a stone throw away putting one final touch to what every trendy neighborhood should have, a laid back but intellectual academic atmosphere.
Another two blocks and a few more turns will took me to my office. I felt lucky that driving to work no longer include enduring the stressful busy freeways and major roads some commuters had to take to get to the central business district down town. My thoughts were re-winded to the times when I was one of those commuters several years back. Being just another one in a million suit and tie corporate man trying to climb the corporate ladder. In my case being in the fast pace investment banking world with cuff links and suspender dress code. I supposed I should feel grateful then that I was miles away from the busy freeways and the suit and tie and for being in the trade that had a free spirit ed atmosphere. It was almost three years since I have made partner in a small marketing communication agency. Being one of the first to go into digital marketing has given the agency the edge it needed when corporations finally considering shifting into new media for their communication. Baiting for the big fish clients in the last few years has finally paid off and has given the agency a nice chunk of retainer fees.
My searched for the unknown finally stopped when Carly Simon's "Itsy Bitsy Spider" came over the car speakers. In another ten minutes or so I would arrived in my destination. It could have been the desire to prolong the journey that all of a sudden have made me decide to walked the rest of the distance and started eyeing for empty parking spaces on the street. Being in the retail block with business that mostly opened at ten o'clock I easily found a few empty spaces to park my car. I parked the car in front of a florist that sells imported flowers. While getting out of the car I caught a glimpse of the shop girl carrying imported tulips from Holland and putting them on a display bucket. That reminded me that I should send some flowers to one of my staff who has just given birth the day before. I quickly went inside and ordered some sunflowers to be delivered to the hospital. Pushing the glass door on my way out of the florist I realized that the rain has stopped. Carrying my worn out leather back pack over my shoulder I started walking.
As I walked my mind started to wander again to those years of soul searching or should I said searching for something that was right for my soul. The struggled between choosing a conventional path and the attraction for unconventionalities were like the pain of my existence that I had to go through while growing up. I was still not sure whether it was just naive ignorance or simply the lack of confidence to go against conventionality that had led me later on to conform to the larger sense of belonging. Surely I thought it was not because of insecurity as I have always found certain comfort with my own insecurities. Somehow recognizing my own fears has helped me to stay focus to my true being. It was like a secret intimacy that existed deep within me and was my creation of the art of happiness and my covert sanctuary whenever I was in doubt with my surrounding. A large Ukiyo-eportraying Kiyonaga's art print of Girl Under a Willow on the wall of a fusion Sushi place distracted my thought. This briefly took me away from what the Buddhist called the "sorrowful world" to its ironic wordplay, "the floating worldof a 17th centuries Japan - Edo period with its complicated philosophies and sense of Samurai chivalry1. I smiled and thought of my own complexity as comparison. Still staring at the glass covered poster I saw the reflection of me, a man in faded grey corduroy Levi's wearing a wind breaker over a t - shirt and a Timberland shoes. A far cry indeed from the drawing of a man in dark colored chalked Armani suit and cuff linked white shirt with silk tie. I never did find the passion for suspenders but I did eventually get tiresome of cufflinks and everything else that came with it. It was never me and neither the teakwood paneled cigar smoked board room nor the fluctuations of the market index had ever given me any significant gratification. The agony of waking up one day and finding me doing something for the sake of doing it and for self security turned out to be more frightening than the thought of losing that security. Suddenly, the art of happiness is merely now just a fiction of my imagination. Light drizzle has started again and pulling the hood of the wind breaker over my head I continued my steps on the wet cobble stone pavement in the direction toward my building.
While abstraction had no real cost, reality did bite. Stepping out of a comfort zone turned out to be more than just carrying the burden of economic consequences but also the requirement to establish a new self - identity which closely resembled the nightmare of an introvert teenager at lost in the jungle of a new high - school. That same lost feeling was a real challenge especially in the planet of creative communication filled with over blown egos that were not only could create legendary campaigns but frequently also disastrous creative landmines. The supposedly combination of art and science between business strategy and creative solution could and often easily mistaken to be the processed to create an award winning fine art project instead. It was a lethal occupational hazard as well as a chaotic war zone. Egos were easily bruised or took a nose dive imitating a kamikaze pilot plunging his plane over the Pacific Ocean into an allied aircraft carrier during World War II. I sometimes marveled how all these could create envious observations to those outside the circle. I stopped at a zebra cross waiting for the green light and looked at the corner store watching a visual merchandiser worked on a shoe display forManolo Blahnik new arrivals. He artistically placed a pair of red patent leather sandal against a black steel stand highlighting the gold metal trim and heel of the sandal. The positioning was in such a way that the passionate red vintage style sandal with its beautiful curve reminded me of a sensual Flamenco dancer. The light switched to green and as I crossed the street I thought about how an insightful positioning combined with memorable visuals could really did the job. Those shoes displays certainly have attracted countless loyal long legged beauties to walked into the store and spent money on shoes that at least equal to two months salary of a blue collar worker. Nevertheless, I could have imagined that there were criticisms from those who effortlessly dismissed this to be just another trivial vanity or worse, a shallow urban chic nonsense.
Approaching my office I realized that the pyramidal needs which set priorities and petty importance sometime worked against each other which made people see things from different frame of mind. A product of a free spirited surroundings often combined with playful childlike thought might seemed mediocre to the eye of a practical rigid mind who puts value on properness. Prestigious achievements between the two poles then could only be understood by how the stars worked the different horoscopes belonging to these souls.
Pushing the door to my building I winked at my receptionist with the pale faced Gothic make up as she mumbled a soft husky good morning to me. I stopped by the pantry to make my second cup of coffee for the day. On the walked up to the duplex section of the office I was greeted with sounds of Jimmy Durante's "As Time Goes By" competing with Radio Head's "Hail to the Thief" coming from MP3s blasted from G5 Mac computers. I smiled at this assemble of the old and new working together creating strange but harmonious unity. Sipping my coffee at my desk I looked through my glass walled room and watched others did their morning routine. As I turned to the window I watched the rain and saw how the window glass stopped the rain from crashing in and created tiny rivers flowing from gravity.
I liked what I did there and I loved the playful and free spirited environment represented that morning by Durante and Radio Head. Strange as it was that probably to another observer but for me it was a representation of "properness" and "free spirit" working together to formed a character that fitted me perfectly. Whether or not it portrayed the same thing on the rest of society's mainstream was entirely a different story as I often considered myself to be a rather strange character. I did realize that having lived and digested the past days of my life, taking and learning what they had to offer has taken me that duplex on that rainy November morning. It might or might not have been the right place for my soul. The prestigious trade award hanged on the wall may satisfy the soul for the moment but can easily became petty importance the next day. But I knew then that whatever the searched was, the art of happiness was about acceptance and understanding. They were no longer about fictions running around wild but were about learning to understand what I could not accept and to accept what I could not understand. To lived the day with what I knew from yesterday and prayed tomorrow will come as only faith has the control to bring me tomorrow.
There is no rain today as it is now in the middle of July and the sun has set for the day bringing a cooler breeze to what has been a hot and humid day. I am looking out through my window at the street where it is already well lit from the colonial style light poles. From my window I see an owner of a brand new green Volkswagen is getting out of her car parked in that exact space where I parked my car that rainy November morning. Passing my window she goes straight to the newly opened yoghurt and bakery store next door. I turn around and walk back to my desk to get ready to close the shop for the day. I ask one of my staff to call me a cab that will take me to the airport straight from the shop. I am leaving for Italy tonight before continuing to Malta for some new carnations and chrysanthemums adding new inventories for my florist.
Ukiyo-e (pronounced oo-kee-oh-ay) was a style of popular art in Japan during the Edo period, inexpensive and usually depicting scenes from everyday life.
Ukiyo translates as "floating world" - an ironic wordplay on the Buddhist name for the earthly plane, "the sorrowful world". Ukiyo was the name given to the lifestyle in Japan's urban centers - the fashions, the high life, and the pleasures of the flesh. Ukiyo-e is the art documenting this era. - Source artcyclopedia.com
She looked at me. With a rigid smile with no hint of emotion but a mechanical twitch on her face. A movement created by some complicated back process programming language that sent by the central processing unit to respond to a reaction by a human near her.
Dress all black. In a John Galiano’s outfit and moves with ease around the room keeping her eyes on the powerful giant computer screen displaying an image a satellite picture of the a deserted land somewhere in the Middle East. Her slender yet full figured body bends as she touches few buttons enhancing the curves of a perfectly build woman. Her eyes focus on the screen with an intense look that contradicts the face of a melancholic beauty that seems to come from an unknown ethnic origin.
I watched her. The almost human robot with skills ranging from mastering all martial arts known to the world to a DJ spinning the latest rave including the intelligent of understanding ancient Egyptian manuscripts and Chinese Caligprahy.
She looked at me. This time the usual empty gaze flickered momentarily with a touch of human emotion.
Sadness.
A computer named Elodie had a mechanical malfunction that cause her to have a melody of heart beat.
She looked at me. I gazed back and understood that she did not want me to fix the malfunction and to just let it be.
She looked at me. I smiled and my gaze told her that I understood.
