tonight, went with j.b. to see tsai ming-liang as director-in-person at the harvard film archive. two screenings: goodbye dragon inn and the skywalk is gone. i watched the films as though i was peering down a never-ending hall of mirrors; reflection to dizzying heights.

the square is getting chillier.

to find something that was once familiar, now changed, different, disappeared. disorientation in reorientation. wind blowing through my skirt, descending into the urban abyss, trying to cross the street when there is no clear path. where do i find him? stop, watch, look high above the teeming murmuring heads of the perspirating masses.

like she, nothing's good on the menu, so i suppose i'll take the dan chao fan. i mean, i wish i could order the spicy beef noodles, but i'm at the mercy of the whims of the kitchen. for now, at least. once the toque finds its way upon my head, i will avenge, conjuring the most passionate delicacies on loyal wok, peppering the air with abandon, coddling the contents of the noses of my detractors into a runny, yellow mess.