New York. 10.10. 2025

離開大阪已經兩個多禮拜了，之後也去了一些別的城市，但回到秋天的紐約有一種熟悉的慌張感，十多年前就在這樣微涼的天氣帶著幾塊錢到紐約唸電影，現在世界都要瀕臨毀滅了。上一次有這樣的感覺好像是七年前的春天，在淺草遇到畢業短片的女主角，她剛好也從美國到日本出差，我抱著愧疚跟她在東京晃了一整天，回紐約之後重新寫一些關於一個旅人在陌生城市迷失的劇本，現在埋藏在電腦的深處。

七年過去了，爸爸走了，工作換了兩個，跟我一起成長的教會從溫暖透明的環境變成一小群人刷存在感搞小團體的國營企業。我離開全職，去年寫了一個長片，拍了一個短片，今年從朦朧地照顧兩個孩子做短片後製到幾個月前被拖下去拍攝製作無腦的科技公司商業影片。也許今年賺的錢可以資助下一個自己想拍的東西，我這樣哄自己。

「明年二月我們希望你跟我們一起來巴賽隆那。」客戶問我。
「我已經去過四次了，西班牙都看遍了。再去好像在走回頭路。」我說。

在大阪跟台灣的老友相聚。跟一個在貧民窟宣教的美國女生A見面。我跟著她和一個日本男人Hoshino一起服事，看著那些在街頭掙扎的人們，之後的一切突然變的不再重要。最後一天我跟他們去唱K，看著Hoshino坐在地上抽煙跟他們道別。他們繼續餵養新世界外圍飢餓的人，傳福音給公開招客的妓女，我則在上海的五星餐廳被客戶招待難以下嚥的烤鴨龍蝦。

這樣的交叉感一直持續到兩個星期後的今天。跟大學的學姊和她男友在西村散步一下午，聊紐約的電影和這18年裡的瑣事。在咖啡店坐下來的時候她突然對我說不要停止用中文寫作。我好像被拉回大學那個自信滿滿的自己，騎著摩托車排戲到半夜然後看著西子灣手寫一篇篇沒人要看的故事。那該不會是年輕最好的時光吧？怎麼會這樣就過了？慾望街車威尼斯商人的呈現已經落入了記憶裡做夢都不會浮現的角落。但偶爾在陽光燦爛的下午，那片段會像彩繪玻璃一樣綻放七彩的光澤在陳舊腐壞的木地板上。一切好像都沒變。

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel. That’s all. I don’t even think of you that often.

這為生活奔波的十多年就這樣荒廢了嗎？我不知道。我好像勉強拿攝影機工作騙自己在做有創意的事。雙腳踏過一座座陌生的城市並不代表我在往前走。我衷心服事的教會已經面目全非，周遭沒有人在乎那些因飢餓而死亡的孩子們。

六月在柏林時Q說：「好好生活最重要。」
也許吧。

外貌早改變，處境都變。

想說的是：年輕的時候一直想跑，想離開那個破碎充滿謊言的家，想逃開那個慵懶過曝的高雄，遠離那個小島，想擠進混亂的紐約，現在沒地方衝了，快要四十歲才體會到我們人類是面對過去，倒退著跌撞走向未來的。那些看似荒誕的年日是我成長的養分。那一天天深夜重複背誦的田納西威廉斯和轉瞬即逝的演出是我們當年對生活的咀嚼，也是我們那一群不經世事的年輕人對社會文化的挖掘。謝謝妳那兩年的堅持和付出，謝謝妳對人類情感上的敏感和人跟人語言之外溝通的探索。謝謝妳讓我有機會把年輕的歲月投注在一場場短暫卻永恆的排練中。妳看到了我自己都不了解的自己，這是我多年以後才懂得珍惜的東西。

劇場的那幾年是我緊緊守護的寶藏，是我前進的動力，就算我一直到不了河的對岸也沒關係。知道那些年日曾經發生過也許就足夠了。

謝謝導演。以後我們也要好好生活。

—

京橋，東京。四月。 04.12. 2018

我們快速地結束了香港的拍攝行程，Dan 飛峇里島，我飛東京。最後一天我們在中環的計程車上簡短地討論五六月的旅行計畫，還有這樣瘋狂沒有停歇的拍攝行程是不是讓我們感到疲倦。在簡短的抱怨之後，我們同時想到去年暑假在智利的拍攝，那真是一趟完美的旅程，他說，是我出差中最好的。然後我們想到南半球的冬天，我第一次一個人出差拍攝是在一六年的夏天，在紐西蘭南島的基督城，那時連班機延遲都非常新鮮有趣。

然後才想到我已經邁入這份工作的第三年了。不是自己想說要在三十歲前辭職然後專心寫作的嗎？三十歲的生日感覺已經過了很久了，印度已經是兩個月前的事了，等明年二月巴塞隆那之後吧，可是那樣我就三十一了。我怎麼還像一個二十歲的人一樣不痛不癢的想著自己的未來啊？

在飛東京的飛機上看了一個電影，裡面有一個小男孩去抱他的爸媽，然後不知道為什麼我突然哭了，很難過的那種。想到以後自己可能的小孩，一些零碎的畫面。

既然是臨時自己決定來東京，我就只計劃跟一兩個老朋友見面，結果下飛機才發現除了一個高中老同學還在，其他人都離開了。上一次來還不到半年，東京有這麼不適合久住啊。然後一個美國的老朋友突然告訴我她在銀座來取拍戲用的木偶。基於禮貌我說星期五可以喝個咖啡，她說應該一起吃個飯，我說午餐，她說晚餐，我說好，她說下午乾脆一起去淺草轉轉。我說要想想。

她叫 Ciera, 是我畢製的女主角，戲演得很自然，也沒有一般學生製作女演員的那種帶有侵略感的氣質，更不像一個 Montanna 來的人那樣咄咄逼人。所以不是我不想跟她相處超過一杯咖啡的時間，而是我在畢製之後除了寫了一個半調子的電影劇本之外就再也沒做過跟電影相關的事了。這兩年根本只有在乾枯的飛行中不斷重複改寫故事大綱而已，所以是對自己的失望造成無法面對大學時期一起拍片的朋友。換句話說就是自己跟自己過不去。難道三十歲之後就會無法面對以前無憂的自己嗎？別人應該也會這樣。但是想想我寧可這樣掙扎也不想放棄自己想做的事。

這樣好了，早上混進個京橋的小咖啡館跟銀行的上班族湊熱鬧，整理一下筆記，散一個長步到築地市場，然後讀一點小說再決定要不要到淺草。

對，就是這樣，這種事不能急。五月要去德州 Austin，六月去德國 Dusseldorf，一個月一個月來，對自己誠實一些。提醒自己不要放棄。

Placencia. Belize.

Three days of intense driving have come to an end. We left the border town of San Ignacio behind as we finally drove down to the coast. We visited Xuananurich, watched the kids climb a Mayan ruin, and then drove past the border deep into Guatemala to the town of Flores—where we finally enjoyed a decent cup of Americano. We hit every street food vendor in town, using my one-year-old Duolingo Spanish to order delicious local fare (though I've since forgotten their names). We embraced the mountain town vibe, even as the rental Kia Sorento threatened to fall apart. No regrets. We don’t even think of Tikal—those spider monkeys and ancient ruins can wait another decade, or whenever we decide to come back.

Now, surrounded by clear, Gatorade-colored waves and the blazing sun, everything finally feels like a vacation. Kids dig in the sand and splash in the pool, leaving NYC’s snowstorms far behind. Even cooking our own meals feels like a luxury, free from the constant shouting, bickering, and CNN crisis mode. That’s the world, and this is my life: stripping it down to the essentials, not overreacting to every little thing beyond my control, doing what I believe is best—and not being a jerk to others. It seems pretty good to me.

Zee is asleep after a morning of wild play, and J lounges on the beach. Everything is where it’s supposed to be—at least for now. My mind is still whirling from the stress of writing feature after feature and obsessing over how to edit a simple short film. But none of that matters here. At seven in the morning, local women sell crafts on the beach. The world goes on, and we all must do our part. That’s the only lesson I've learned from endless hours of driving in Central America with my family—we’re all doing our best, and sometimes that’s enough.

The key to true rest is knowing you’re loved.

In three days, we'll drive into what they call the center of the storm. Until then, I'm content here—in the middle of nowhere, in a simple beach town, with the people who matter most to me.

It wasn’t too long ago when I was running through the Brisbane airport terminal like a maniac, trying to catch a connecting flight to Christchurch, New Zealand. Had I missed this particular flight — which I was told I most certainly would shortly before landing — I’d be on a nine hour bus to Sydney, waiting to catch another one going to the South Island of New Zealand the following day. Ain’t nobody has time for that.

The door to the aircraft was shut three quarters before the flight attendant saw me, she smiled, “I see you now, stop running!”

The following week was uneventful. I stayed at the crumbling B&B “Famous Grouse Hotel” while enduring the nightly Karaoke night with the town folks scream on the top of their lungs. The wi-fi needs a new password every 6 hours, and I had to get it from the owner. So often I stayed up observing every crack on the ceiling until making my way down to the restaurant for an English breakfast. “How was the Karaoke night?” I’d ask the owner. “Rubbish as always.” He’d reply. I’d then take my cameras miles to to the filming location because there’s only one Uber driver in town. I remember the room vividly, especially the bright red flowery wallpaper above my bed, even though I’ve lost all the photos.

Then we’re off to the races. Five years, thirty countries, half a million miles above the clouds, countless hotel room keycards, and many long walks along unknown streets later, I’M DONE…  Finished. Spent. And it’s only fitting I’m recalling this after a short walk in the morning fog in the city of Santa Clara, across from the Levi Stadium, where the 49ers play, or so the driver told me.

I had thought of this day for years— How would I feel about saying goodbye to all the people I love (at least for now) in all the beautiful cities I met them? Would I be a cheapskate now that I can’t buy airport cocktails with my company card? (The answer is a resounding yes.) The electric energy going through my spine whenever I step into a new country, talking a stranger about where to eat — will that be gone as well?

It was a lonely job. Brutal. Takes a toll on your body. Carrying the equipment, racing through airports, city streets, making and breaking the cameras and lighting whenever and wherever, instantly forgetting my hotel room number and which city I just traveled from because I was moving too fast. Sleeping on the plane and sometimes on an airport bench. Tomorrow begins at six in the morning. Always.
It’s also the best job in the world. THE best. One week you’re driving through the Dead Sea heading to a hot spring in Ein Gedi, next day you’re in Bangkok riding on a motorcycle holding onto a stranger for dear life. I write when I see a table. I read when I can’t sleep. I got in the habit of speaking to strangers— about what to see and where to eat, about the war that defines the country — There’s almost always a war that happened not too long ago. About where Im from and where I’m going.

I am very fortunate to have met many video professionals all over the world, stay in touch with a lot of them, and even get to call each other friends. They are in San Francisco, Santiago, Chile, Phnom Penn, Delhi, Barcelona, Rome, Bangkok, Nice, France, Prague… Places I’ve never dreamed of working in. For someone who never care for traveling, I was given a reason to do so. A mission to pack two cameras into a roller bag and create video content in the uttermost part of the world. I’d squeeze a new trip to an old one — Agra on top of Delhi, Cambodia on top of Thailand, Japan on top of Hong Kong, Peru over Chile, Rome over L’Aquila, and  many more I can’t remember. Meeting old friends over drinks, meeting new friends over dinner. The cycle repeats.

Until now.

I wouldn’t trade these years for anything. I was exactly where I needed to be in my late 20s, even when I was thrown out of a taxi in India, or pulling an all-nighter editing alone in Barcelona. I have absolutely no regret OTHER THAN eating at a Mexican restaurant in Paris and found the waitress sitting on her boyfriend and wondering when my food went—  but that one was on me. I should’ve known better.

Now here I am, doing my last business trip in San Francisco, meeting old friends for dinner and drinks every night until I have to wake up at 6AM and catch the flight home.

I can’t wait to see my son…

I want to write more, never really give up on it, but I want to get better. Rewriting my lousy screenplays at the airport bar does get old.

I want to create. And the new job awaits, waiting for me to prove myself yet again.

One day I shall go back to being a road warrior. I just know it. I want to see Africa, visit my friends there. That’ll be a long epic trip. But I’m good for now. I’ll take some time to process the places I’ve been. I want to go beyond cities, to the places people talk about but never actually visit. I want to bring my son with me to all the new places, until he outgrows us and moves on one day…

At the end of July, 2016, just one week after I wrapped the Christchurch shoot, I found myself on a bus headed to Franz Josef Glazier with a car full of Japanese tourists. I was staring at the stars in the back of the car, re-listening to an old playlist while the tour guy Om told us stories of the old gold mines in the South Island that cuts a whole in the middle of the earth. He sang the song “Farewell to the Gold” for a few times as we make our ways to Queenstown:

Shotover river, your gold it is waning

It's weeks since the colour I've seen

But it's no use just sitting and Lady Luck blaming

So I'll pack up and make the break clean

Farewell to the gold that never I found

Goodbye to the nuggets that somewhere abound

For it's only when dreaming that I see you gleaming

Down in the dark, deep underground

It's nearly two years since I left my old mother

For adventure and gold by the pound

With Jimmy the prospector - he was another

For the hills of Otago was bound

We worked the Cardrona's dry valley all over

Old Jimmy Williams and me

But they were panning good dirt on the winding Shotover

So we headed down there just to see

We sluiced and we cradled for day after day

Making hardly enough to get by

Til a terrible flood swept poor Jimmy away

During six stormy days in July

These years have a profound impact on me as a man, as an adult, as a human… And I will let it simmer until curiosity brings me to a new place in the not too distant future.

Nov. 3rd. 2021.

For as long as I can remember I’ve always resented New Year. It’s not that I have a cynical view of all the celebrations, resolutions, or the mundane change of the Gregorian calendar — I should clarify that I hold the same notion for Lunar New Year as well. There’s just something about the positive energy exuded by the collective human society that never sits right with me. The more we try to project good vibes on one another the more I’m reminded of the world we’re living in.

This is obviously personal, and it goes way back. Every Chinese New Year of my childhood, my mom would haul the three of us onto a train from a sunny small town in the middle of Taiwan three hours north to Taipei to visit my father’s family. The fun ends when the train stops. The capital of Taiwan is always wet and damp earlier in the year. My mom gets tense the moment we step into my grandfather’s apartment. Everything was white, squeaky clean, and not to be played with. Adults are busy making the biggest feast of the year while secretly (and openly) compare each others’ kids. Aunties, uncles, cousins were all there. My dad would show up in the middle of the day, crack a few jokes, buried himself in his study, consuming cigarettes and books. I remember taking a copy of Moby Dick from his shelf that’s stained with mold and cigarette smells.

The closer we get to the big meal the more nervous everyone gets. Some adults would get shouty — mostly my dad — actually, always my dad — and it would end in tears and heartbreak while everyone pretend to carry on the next day. 

To me, what’s meant to be new is always centered around death. One year after the  New Year dinner my grandfather suffered a stroke. He passed away the summer after. My mother’s mother — my Christian grandmother, often told me the story of my eldest uncle — the eldest son of a pastor, how he divorced, remarried, and got into a terrible accident days before Chinese New Year. My mother was pregnant at the time and about to go into labour. My grandmother held my uncle’s hand in the hospital, praying for his life until his death was declared, and then began to pray that her daughter who’s in labour, would not give birth on the same day. The Lord answered her prayer, My uncle passed away on the 9th, I was born on the 10th. 

That’s why besides New Year, I also don’t like birthdays. No one remembers mine because of all the New Year prep, and frankly I didn’t care. I even told the church calendar organizer not to put my birthday in it. How can anyone celebrate life in the midst of freezing winter? Years later my grandmother herself would pass away during Chinese New Year, AND when we couldn’t reach my father last year, we knew immediately something had gone terribly wrong. The police confirmed our theory on the third day of the New Year. 

So for me this has always been a season of deep reflections. What we call “new” is always build on top of death. I couldn’t possibly do any chest thumping about the new year when I don’t even know what’s on the other end of this grueling winter, couldn’t declare victory over the sorrow all the deaths have brought, but have to learn to live with it. All of it. Only thing I ever told myself to do is to be real. Think about the dead, and remember the living. Think about how in a complete gruesome and devastating way our Lord sacrificed himself — it is out of His death can anyone find life. And how it still reign true today - We proclaim his death until he comes.

Until then, we won’t really know what the true meaning of the new year is despite our best efforts year after year. Yet I have no doubt one day we shall experience it together, the old and the new, the dead and the living, when our Lord returns. 

On that day I’ll be dancing with joy with the saints that’ve gone before us and all my resolutions, but for now I’ll just keep New Year and birthday celebrations to myself. 

I hope that’s okay with you. 

The espresso martini I had during dinner tastes exactly like it sounds— coffee and rust— and it might have made my meeting with the new manager that much worse. I was honest, maybe too honest, but that’s just me. Couldn’t help it.

I shouldn’t have gone with the Japanese old fashioned with Jason in Mission an hour prior. Could’ve walked another ten blocks with him, another loop around Delores park. It was nice, but we were lured by the outdoor seating and live music. The best part was our conversation. Nothing like a good ol’ chat over drinks between two video professionals who have endless adoration for cinema.  We went from the films no one heard of to the films we want to make, from Austin to all over the world and back to San Francisco. 

Send me your script. Let’s do it. “You need to make what you can with whatever you have.” he said. Amen to that. 

That was August. Many things have changed since. 

And I’m back here again. Seeing my high school friend form Taiwan in Cupertino, saying hi to my college friend in San Francisco. And the very last night of my trip in the Bay Area I’m back in Mission meeting Jason and Saboor, the courageous freelancer from Afghanistan, who I worked with in August as his country collapsed into the hands of the Taliban. We drank and laughed then, and we do it all over again tonight. From Burma Love to Zeitgeist, drinking Rye and Japanese whisky. Watching him smoke. We traded war stories — literally making videos under extreme circumstances — not me but the two of them— filming under Taliban’s watch, at Mexican drug cartel’s gunpoint… Will Taiwan be okay? I don’t know. But tell me more about your brutal trip filming in Central America. I’m just a corporate video producer bouncing from one safe airport to another, taking a shower in the lounge before takeoff. Haven’t even lived a day comparing to these legends. 

What’s next? Another adventurous gig? Another doc? Festivals? Features? Where do you want to live outside of America? That list is very long. 

To challenging video shoots. 

We hugged on the corner of Duboce and Valencia, night air made me shiver. I had to head back to my hotel and crash, got an early flight tomorrow morning. 

Let’s do it again. Next time in New York. My place. 

It was just last summer I was staying up until two in the morning making Zee formula and documenting every diaper change. Not sure when we cut his naps to two. And now he’s turned one. 

Everything everyone ever told about raising an infant is right: the days are long. But these are dog years, at least the one we had was. I didn’t miss traveling, and certainly don’t want to go back to flying again — sorry San Francisco. There’s no meaning in putting up a photo in a cafe and tally up the list of countries I’ve been to — even though that was what I was doing before 2020. 

Raising another human being doesn’t add layers to life, but it gives you a reason to live your life to the fullness. You’re exhausted but you will go on. You work with your love one on every little step and marvel at how great a mother can be to her son. Such onward motion carried me through my father’s sudden death earlier this year. I wept, by myself and in front of Zee. Life goes on, and I will be there for him. He doesn’t need to do anything to impress me, he is loved, now and forever. 

In that sense a year is just days blowing by, it can’t be summed up by a photo album documenting his growth or mere words. The meaning, if any at all, is just the time you spend with the person you love. It’s gently holding your child when he wakes up in a panic. It’s tossing him in the air on a bright summer day. It’s taking him to the playground and tell the other kids who come near him it is okay to touch him. He is your friend. 

Watching Zee grow is a metric to my time on this planet, of how fast it goes and how fragile we are. Zee has become time itself, growing into existence with sheer strength and endless curiosity. It’s the feeling whenever Clair de Lunes ends and you’re hopeless for a second.  But it’s gone. It just is. You have to savor it when it’s there. 

Zee came to this world when a storm was raging through Manhattan. He cried at the great stage of fools. And now he is one, crawling and fighting his way around the backyard to feel the texture of the branches. Soon enough he’ll be telling Jung and I what he’s found in his wild days of travel in a restaurant of a city far away. 

Here’s to another day, another minute, another second…

Down from 137 movies in 2018 to 105 in 2019 and now just 72 in 2020 — a lot of them were rewatch because sometimes I just need to see images that move, which explains why there’s lots of bad TV on the list…
Okay I did enjoy Emily in Paris as background noise when I feed baby Z and damn you Netflix autoplay.
I would like to watch more Japanese and Hong Kong cinemas in 2021. Would also like to travel there and hug all my friends.
I bold the ones I saw in theater. This just makes me sad.
Let’s all return to the cinemas in 2021 and pour hot butter all over the popcorn until it leaks out of the bag.

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul

Films:

1. Ride with the Devil (Ang Lee, 1999)

2. Dark City (Alex Proyas, 1998)

3. Uncut Gems (Safdies brothers, 2019)

4. Long Shot (Jonathan Levine, 2019)

5. The French Lieutenant’s Woman (Karel Reisz, 1981)

6. 1917 (Sam Mendes, 2020)

7. あの日のオルガン / Organ (Hiramatsu, 2019)

8. Gemini Man (2019, Ang Lee)

9. 二階堂家物語 / The Nikaido's Fall (Ida Panahandeh, 2019)

10. 記憶にございません！/ Hit Me Anyone One More Time (Koki Mitani, 2019)

11. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (And Lee, 2000)

12. The Hedonists (Jia Zhangke, 2016)

13. 29+1 (Kearan Pang, 2017)

14. The God of Cookery (Stephen Chow, 1996)

15. American Factory (Julia Reichert, Steven Bognar 2019)

16. The Souvenir (Joanna Hogg, 2019)

17. Little Woman (Greta Gerwig, 2019)

18. Edge of Darkness (Martin Campbell, 2010)

19. Moonlight (Barry Jenkins, 2016)

20. The Last Thing He Wanted (Dee Rees, 2020)

21. Sex, Lies, and Videotape (Steven Soderbergh, 1989)

22. Jaws (Spielberg, 1975)

23. By The Sea (Angelina Jolie, 2015)

24. The Talented Mr. Ripley

25. The Thing (John Carpenter, 1982)

26. The Report

27. Saving Mr. Banks

28. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom

29. The Invention of Lying

30. Alien

31. Sleuth (1972)

32. Sleuth (2007)

33. I Am Mother (2019)

34. Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982)

35. Dogville (Lars Von Trier, 2003)

36. Eastern Promises (David Cronenberg, 2007)

37. Vivarium (2019)

38. Black Rain (Ridley Scott, 1989)

39. Breaking the Waves (Lars Von Trier)

40. The Five Obstructions (Lars Von Trier, Jørgen Leth, 2003)

41. Tigertail (Alan Wang, 2020)

42. Comet (Sam Esmail, 2014)

43. Closer (Mike Nichols, 2004)

44. Lucy in the Sky

45. 13th

46. Hanna (Joe Wright, 2011)

47. ReMastered: The Two Killings of Sam Cooke（2019)

48. Bedazzled (2000)

49. Do The Right Thing (Spike Lee, 1989)

50. Eraserhead (David Lynch, 1977)

51. Justice, My Foot (1992)

52. The Adjustment Bureau (George Nolfi, 2011)

53. Doctor Zhivago (David Lean, 1965)

54. The Last Emperor (Bertolucci, 1987)

55. Wings of Desire (Wenders, 1987)

56. Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (Werner Fassbinder, 1974)

57. Misery (1990)

58. Jojo Rabbit

59. Parasite

60. Hoop Dreams

61. I’m Thinking of Ending This

62. Enola Holms

63. Career Opportunities (1991)

64. The Social Dilemma

65. On the Rocks

66. The Trial of the Chicago 7

67. Charlie Wilson’s War (2007)

68. Being John Malkovich

69. The Founder

70. Her

71. Last Christmas

72. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm

二階堂家物語 / The Nikaido's Fall (Ida Panahandeh, 2019)

Television:

Succession Season 1-2

Avenue 5 Ep 1-5

Mandalorian Season 1

The Longest Day In Chang'an 

The Terror Season 1

Mad Men Season 3

The Last Dance 

Tiger King

For All Mankind S1 Ep 1

Queen’s Gambit 

The Wire

Lovecraft Country S1 E1-3

Emily in Paris S1 E1-3

The Flight Attendant S1 - S3

Death to 2020 

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?

— Wim Wenders. 

The unexpected surprise about being a father so far is I get to stay awake and watch old films in between baby Z’s late night feeding. Berlin was bleak in “Wings of Desire”, Munich was grim in “Ali: Fear Eats the Soul”, Siberia in “Doctor Zhivago“ was, well… but the humans in these worlds were beautiful even for a tired mind who contemplates on how much formula to feed a newborn. 

At 1:00AM I’d gently take Z out of the crib, force him to take a look at the German cities from half a century ago, and then feed him. I’d talk to him like he understands — he does, to some extent — and lay him on my shoulder and watch him burp.

The feeling goes far beyond words, it can only be felt. It’s not that suddenly the world makes more sense or you’ve found someone you know you love, but more so I know in the deepest part of my being sitting on a midnight living room couch listening to this little creature breathe on my chest is where both of us need to be.

Sometimes he’d make a face. Sometimes he’d open his eyes, and take in everything — for a brief moment this one week old human being becomes the world. 

Hours after Z was born I had to move the car from the hospital six in the morning. I took a short nap. In my dream I was inside a museum with Z, watching the wonders of the world through dim light, thick glasses, and dark wood frames. We didn’t speak, but we were amazed. 

Then I woke up, took the train across the Hudson, picked up tea at K-town, got off at 57th street as the storm cloud cleared. The train conductor held the doors for me both ways, they must saw the urgency and excitement written all over my me.  

Here’s a song for you, Z. One day when we go on a family trip, I will play this song as we blow pass your first tunnel. The light pours in and you winces, much like what you do now when I change your diaper. We’d laugh, I’ll tell you what an amazing person your mother was — and always will be — and how much we love you.

There’s so much of the world to see, Z, and I will be there with you to experience things anew.
But for now, drink the milk, and go the ____ to sleep. 

From ''Towards The West-1985''.

Crawling out of my skin everyday gets better at home. A nice pour over and a bumpy writing session. Waiting for the finished screenplay to go around and most likely end up nowhere if we’re looking at the statistics (or my writing). Still, the urge to be self righterious continues to itch. I want to go somewhere. 

In my dreams I’m always somewhere foreign. A hotel. A street. A city. Places I was. Faces that I remember but fades the moment I turn to them. 

The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics…

The escaped youth. 

Years of traveling taught me nothing but to keep on going and ask questions. Anything at all: How are you? How’s your family? What do you think of this country and tell me about the war — there usually was one. 

Where are you from? I’m not sure. Same time last year I was in Beijing and Basque, Two years ago in Paris. Both of the cities are different now. Everything’s changed. 

Life is good but I know I have more places to be until I can stop. The burning desire to tell a story has not yet fade, not even my awful writing can stop it. I’d read a ton of random stuff and try to make sense of it all. The journey is the point right? Not sure where I’m going though. But that’s ok. 

Reread Caryl Churchill, Sarah Cane, Miyuki Miyabe. Studied the Tung dynasty for the sake of the average but addictive tv show. One day out of the week I’d wake up early and pray. 

God is still good. That much I know. 

No new music. Maybe that’s why the writing struggles. 

Basque Country. March. 2019. 

1. About Time

2. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix 

3. Black Mirror: Bendersnatch 

4. Searching

5. Transsiberian 

6. In the Heat of the Night 

7. Across the Universe 

8. Outlaw King 

9. Green Book 

10. Only God Forgives 

11. Velvet Buzzsaw 

12. Johnstown: Paradise Lost 

13. Jane Eyre (2011) 

14. The Double 

15. Cold War 

16. In the Mood For Love 

17. Sandwich Man 

18. The Killing of a sacred deer 

19. The Red Violin 

20. Chunking Express

21. Annie Hall 

22. Uncle Drew

23. Wise Blood 

24. Bohemian Rhapsody 

25. Apostle 

26. This is Spinal Tap

27. Walking Pass the Future 

28. Captain Marvel

29. Paper Moon  

30. Doubt 

31. Us 

32. Strangers on a train 

33. The Great Buddha Plus 

34. Leaving Neverland 

35. They Shall Not Grow Old 

36. Andhadhun

37. Free Solo

38. Vice

39. The China Syndrome

40. Avengers: Endgame 

41. The Girl in the Spider’s Web 

42. Ash is the Purest White 

43. Tolkien 

44. Existenz

45. Predestination 

46. John Wick Chapter 3: Parabellum

47. The Perfection 

48. Funny Games  

49. Clue

50. Fantastic Mr. Fox

51. Project Gutenberg 

52. Grease

53. First They Killed My Father 

54. Toy Story 4 

55. Gosford Park 

56. Ghost Writer 

57. Minority Report 

58. True Grit 

59. Human Nature 

60. Sophie’s Choice 

61. Spider Man: Far from Home 

62. Bill and Ted’s Excellent adventure 

63. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers

64. I, Robot

65. Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

66. Once Upon a time...in Hollywood

67. The Lion King (2019)

68. The Farewell 

69. Obvious Child 

70. Sunshine 

71. Thank you for smoking 

72. Ready or Not

73. Aladdin 

74. Alita: Battle Angel

75. The Masquerade Hotel

76. Pokèmon: Detective Pikachu 

77. The Hours

78. Ad Astra

79. Dances with Wolves 

80. Joker

81. The Help 

82. Booksmart 

83. Spirited Away 

84. Yesterday 

85. Parasite 

86. Okja

87. Luce

88. Adaptation 

89. Unsound 

90. Knives Out 

91. The Irishman 

92. Frantic

93. JoJo Rabbit 

94. The Abyss 

95. The Seventh Seal 

96. Persona

97. Bridesmaids 

98. Richard Jewell 

99. Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker

100. Martha Marcy May Marlene  

101. Sound of My Voice 

102. Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith 

103. Sense and Sensibility 

104. Marriage Story 

Best movie that came out this year: Ash is Purest White. 

Best rewatch: Chunking Express 

Best old movies I saw for the first time: Persona

Best old movies I didn't care to see but was pleasantly surprised: Sense and Sensibility. 

Amsterdam, Netherlands - Ghent, Belgium.

The one day of the week in Amsterdam that wasn’t pissing with cold rain happened to be my last. I spent hours in the Rijksmuseum coffee shop working and editing - the Wifi is faster than my hotel - and then took another quick stroll at the museum when they announced the museum is closing in 30 min.

Museum is best when closing. Everyone is walking out and for a brief second, you have Rembrandt all to yourself.

We then took a long walk along the canals. Amsterdam is much nicer when it’s dry. Most places are.

Then we hopped on a bus to Ghent. Stayed with a friend. Ate pho and unlimited ribs, and for Jung, more museums and art installations at Eindhoven with her childhood friend who lives in Amsterdam. Our chats at nights were mostly arts, films and theatre — a true palate
cleansing from Trump and Brexit.

It’s profoundly refreshing to be with friends who genuinely don’t give a __ how much you make a year or when you’re going to put a down payment for a house. These abstract subjects require a much larger imagination that can only be fueled by passion for life and beauty. You don’t need to be an expert in any craft to be a part of the conversation, you just need to care more about the human experience than materialism.

Paris and Brussels are no longer needed. How travel changes when you have a purpose. Replaced with more chats, more gin (and a Bourbon drink called Crimson Coat at Jigger’s), long walk over the river streets after midnight. There has to be a version of Christianity that doesn’t require anger and judgments to our fellow human beings. A love that’s sincere. When Jesus walked with the disciples at the break of dawn. There must be laughters there, too. And love, lots of love.