I dreamt of you, on the sofa, there you were, your lost eyes searching, searching, for me, I walked down the spiral stairs as you glanced up , your fiery eyes burning, burning with rage.
“Its too late, its too late.” I whispered softly towards you, caressing your neck, one more time, just, the last time… we kissed like no tomorrow, somehow, this felt like it has all happened before, were we, or were we not, star crossed lovers from the past?
I wished I could tell you the truth of how I feel, but that time will never come, for I decided… you are just a fantasy.. and never real.
I had resigned that fantasy is better than reality, reality is a lie itself, and fantasy is the truth. Imagination is the only salvation to what is left, and ugliness is beauty itself. In the beauty of imperfections we can only be closer to the truth. That is why as an artist, I live in reality no more and seek to create new realities in my quest for idealism.
question, why even try, with the knowledge of trying no matter what
it all points back at nothingness?
Increasingly in my journey and quest for perfection, I am meeting the road block, also known as existential crisis. It is a point where one realizes there is no point in doing whatever we are doing, because at the end of the day we are all going to die and our artwork or message might never be understood or conveyed. Watching Cloud Atlas (2012) made me realize this situation in another level, as compared to what I thought previously, which was to try and try using the sheer will power of my mind.
At this stage, I realize that the act of trying when everyone is failing, is indeed fighting against a hopeless cause, like trying to move a stone with a raindrop. To move boulders we need strong tides and waves, even a tsunami! One single rain drop, or rain can’t do shit, it just erodes the rock over time but does not move it, maybe it will disintegrate into sand over the course of millions of years but it does not solve the fundamental problem – which is to freaking move the dam rock.
As my comprehension of the situation of the world we live in grows in strength each day, the more I feel that others around me do not see what I see, thus increasing my isolation and the tendency to be misunderstood. The more I feel the suffering of others, the more I feel that there is a lack of empathy in our human race, for the drive to be competitive outweighs the basic integrity and ethnics on what it is to be a human with a heart. In this sense, my current life philosophy is leaning towards Taoism, or also known as The Way. It is the action of doing nothing, to achieve everything. Sounds pretty deep and complex, but it utilizes the way of the natural order to move objects naturally, instead of “forcing” things to happen. That is a mental form I am trying to cultivate.
As the waves of globalization take control of our basic resources and monetary system, the divide becomes more apparent. The skilled and unskilled, the rich and poor, the inequality and income gaps. Thomas Friedman was right, the world is flat. I am glad I am an outlier in the equation (being a writer with the ability to detach and see what is happening objectively). If I am in the rat race itself, it would not seem so clear to me – this madness we are living in, chasing dreams we cannot attain, collecting mountains of mortgage debt that cannot be repaid. I am glad I understand the way the system works (with a combination of my business degree background and understanding of human nature), but in the process, I see the obvious so easily, the obvious mistakes people are making, that is worrying.
Which brings me back to the point of the existential crisis – why even try? Even my very own friends can’t be bothered to try, why the hell should I try to be different. I guess, instead of living life like a goldfish, we humans have a choice to take control and choose the life we want to lead. In the process of which, I guess it is worth trying although it all points at hopelessness.
At this point of my journey, I am a hopeless convert towards realism after worshiping Robert Greene, and that itself brings me back to the realization of meaningless of existence, that would be the new direction of where my works will take me – the seeking for and forging of an identity in a chaotic world that makes no sense.
Today represents a breaking point for me, mentally. I am asking myself how far I will go for love, but it seems, the very answer to this very strange question, is that there are no limits actually. I have tried to imagine almost every scenario I can possibly do for my lover, like working as a stripper, or selling my soul for x amount per hour, or taking care of him if he turns into a vegetable. I don’t know what can be any worse, than the worst possible case scenarios I had imagined and replayed in my mind repeatedly. How far will I go… for someone I barely know.
It is strange, this love that I feel. That I can’t comprehend the very fact why did I give up filming the Scarlet Queen (which is midway in production) to be in this minus ten degrees icy snow city to be with this strange man I met on new year’s eve. I cannot comprehend the magnitude of my decision to miss lunar new year with my family, and just put my career/personal life and familiarities aside to be with him and wait for him at home each day. The very fact is that I have no keys out of the apartment complex as the main door keys are not duplicatable. That makes me a trapped full time domestic cat. I don’t know. But I am indeed trapped in my illusionary world of white knights and fairy tales along with what is happening in real life, that I don’t know what is real or am I living a dream itself in my own self constructed reality in my disillusioned world to protect myself from the truth of what reality is.
I am losing touch with myself, or rather, i am losing grasp of the world, as I diverge deeper and deeper into uncovering the truth beneath all the lies, and the deception that the media has taught us to believe in. Maybe by losing myself in this fantasy, I might regain more of my identity and find myself in this journey into the abyss or the unknown. Or the oasis in the dessert. Or.. the kingdom of light.
As fiction takes its hold on me, I can only share my secrets in between the lines of you and I, as you read my works and try to understand the mystery behind the Scarlet Queen, I can only enlighten you on a facade of my true character, for I am forever hidden. forever, in control. of the outcome and endings… of every story you read in this page.
As you lose yourself completely in my works, I can only ask of you… to try to find yourself in me, as I find myself in you. We are reflections of each other, writer and reader, architect and patron, supply and demand. I am you and you are me. We are one.
I flew over continents to see you, forsake my family and friends just to be beside you, ended my career to wait for you at home each day. Vincent, what have you done? Have you seduced and stolen my heart completely, that no logic exist in my crazy mad love for you?
The City of Toronto
I don’t know myself anymore, what is fiction and what is real but when I see you as a mirror of me, I can slowly reclaim my identity in finding you in me. For only you… are real. On the dance floor, conquering worlds in boardrooms, driving past wineries.. only we are real.
You had engulfed my mind body and soul into loving you in my dreams and everything that I do, I think of you. What have you done to seduce me completely? In my artistry to become art itself, you had ruined me into a hopeless romantic
A wild stallion runs in the distance. It can’t be tamed, or controlled… it is willful and fidgety when someone approaches it. It only runs on and on, never stopping, never looking back, only looking forward. It is freedom, the freedom of running across fields of green and the bright skies of no tomorrow, the freedom of living each day in full bliss, the freedom of not having anyone to control its reins. The freedom, that is its happiness.
Once, my uncle told my father and I, that I was a wild stallion. He said never to try to tame me, or I will escape the clutches of control. He said that I crave for freedom, and will go to any lengths to get it. He said, with a mixture of apprehension and excitment in his voice, that… my nature is wild.
He saw through me, beneath the calm exterior I exude, was a wild raging force waiting to be unleashed.
At the fearless state I am experiencing at this point of my life, I have fulfilled his prophecy.
Albert Einstein – “Dancers are the athletes of God.”
Dancing is probably the most honest expression of the human soul, in my opinion. Ever since actively dancing, I am extremely vulnerable with my feelings, in a much wider spectrum than ever previously experienced. It has helped me get in touch with who I am inside, and to express it without judgement and fear… there is no holding back in dance, there is only expression.
Previously, when I was in the business world, holding back emotions was the key to making good objective decisions. Logical linear thoughts of black and white, like ink and paper. Everything is in written form, for people to read and for us, to write.. in report concise formats.
It took me about two months to adjust my mindset from a business one, to an artist life. There is only one choice in these two vastly different worlds. There is no compromise, or inbetween. It is a serious conflict to be an artist and business person. If once can do that, he would be a renaissance man. I have to admit I am not that brilliant to juggle both worlds, hence I chose the business world for the initial five years of my life. After experiencing extreme numbing to my emotions, like a poker player, I knew I could no longer hold out. I had the weaker hand to begin with, I can not think logically like the others on the table, I am driven by pure raw instincts. That makes me prone to making wrong business decisions, when my heart takes over my mind. I gave up my old life of the corporate world. I knew, art was my calling. I intend to stick with an artist life for as long as possible.
Maybe Risque and Cheryl is my manifestation of my own personal struggle to come to terms with my own identity from the outside and internal world. From the modern mindsets and conflicting traditional values. From being a man’s fantasy, to an innocent child. The gap is huge, and hard to comprehend, even by myself. This is what I see in women on a daily basis, I am just, as an artist, painting what I observe, in the canvas of video blogging The Scarlet Queen.
I was walking out of my home one day, and I saw a girl walking in the rain. She was a young girl of eighteen, puffing her cigarettes although she was getting drenched in the pouring rain. I came up from behind her, and offered to share my umbrella. She kindly accepted. No words crossed us. As we stood at the traffic lights, waiting for the lights to turn green, I felt her heart. I felt her pain and agony inside. The closeness of us standing together in the rain, under the same umbrella, made me connect with her sadness. She continued to puff her cigarettes, flashing a smile of gratefulness before turning away, her eyes were set dead as stone. As we reached the sheltered indoor area, she offered one last word of thanks, with a temporary smile – before drifting back into her soulless life.
That experience made me connect with another human in another level, I can’t explain. When it rains, I feel that it washes away my pain, and makes me feel tranquil.. that I usually sleep peacefully on rainy nights. When I shared an umbrella with a stranger, I felt.. unsettled. I felt, there is something… more. It is not just what I feel. It is what she felt, that connected with me. This is what I use to drive my emotions – the fuel for my creative works – the emotion of interconnectedness with others.
In partner dancing, we are randomly allocated to strangers to practice our steps. In one night, we could switch partners about ten to twenty times, depending on the men to female ratio. We are connected to dance as one, from the tension we press onto each other hands. We are… feeling what the other person is feeling, as we try to lead and follow, it is scary yet exciting at the same time. Like sharing an umbrella in the rain, we have to depend on each other for signals to execute our steps. When we hold onto each other hands, the emotions run through us, propelling the speed and intensity of the dance itself, with the synergistic chemistry in our interconnectedness.
After all, dancers are the athletes of god. We are just… vessels for great ideas to flow through our bodies.. to execute our art.
Facebook Update: After dancing for four hours a day, six days in a row, I could imagine dancing when I am walking, swaying to the beat of music in the shopping mall, opening doors like doing a spin.
Recently, I have been awoken in my sleep
from pain.
One, is from the recurring pain on my left wrist
an old injury. The pain goes into my bones and it wakes me up
in the middle of the night, especially when it is cold.
Two, is from the emotional pain in my heart
I wake up feeling extremely low and crappy
like seriously, end my misery please
I don’t know why I feel this way
but it might be because my bed is empty
and realising I am alone.
Three, is from the pain from my muscles
I have been overexerting
I tend to go into extremes when I am in my creative over drive
like doing workouts in the middle of the night
stretching
dancing
anything physically exhausting
so I will collapse back into my bed
so that my mind will blank out.
Lastly, is the imagined pain in my mind
To portray a character like Cheryl
I have to imagine her pain
and it does get into me.
Or dancing even, the pain of tango.
Anything that I imagine, act and write
I feel it too.
I am tired. I want to rest, I want to feel at peace
but my heart and mind is in perpetual discord
the unsettling conflicting of emotions is… overwhelming
I wish I could really end it, like, I don’t want to wake up
because it is too fucking painful.
I do love the people around me, and my life
but when I am breaking into pieces
within myself in forging my new identity
I can no longer see myself.
Metaphorically… I am dead… emotionally and physically.
Like a phoenix that turns into ashes, it will rise again
but when, I do not know.
The prospect of death is real
to an artist or writer
Our moods drift in and out
high and lows
like tides of the sea
When we get too low
there is no turning back
the last time I was ….
low… I almost could not wake up
the next morning..
It was fucking scary.
That was three years back.
I had decided to dedicate my life to artistry
However, I know its a curse
Because I don’t know how long I will live
in my mental cage of imagination
I am suffering daily
By experiencing the exact same pain and happiness
When I write and act as my characters
drawing on every single emotion
I had experienced
to do my utmost best
in every single act.
Sometimes I just want to close my eyes and not wake up
The people who smile the most, are the ones hurting the most inside
The pain I feel when I wake up in the morning and before I sleep at night
Is overwhelming.
I am losing myself
slowly but gradually
I will know myself no more
I had erased my old identity
forging a new one
that I do not understand
I don’t know myself. anymore.
Alone, i am on the verge of death
With someone to offer security,
I am The Scarlet Queen.
Cheryl’s mother is a classically trained pianist, who used to be a piano teacher. In this video, she plays the piano on stage for a charity event.
Host: “She gives vocal and choir lessons, was invited to conduct a children’s choir at the president charity event, and is always in demand for her piano instructional lessons. All this is done for the love of music.”
