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Will you still love me, tomorrow?

Thank you, 媽咪!!

My Asian mother has this tradition of calling me – regardless of where I am in the world – whenever it’s November 2nd, 11:24pm in Hong Kong. The precise time that I was born. Although, being Chinese, she never liked the number 4 and I swear she always told me I was born at 11:23pm.

She’ll retell the story. How much it hurt. How they dangled me by the neck like a pterodactyl cupping its prey above her.
How wet
and ugly
I looked.
They gave me a bath, combed my hair swept all the way to the side, and returned me.
I looked more acceptable then.
Except for my nose, nostrils facing the sky.

I was born on a Saturday night.

Thank you, 媽咪.
I love you.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on November 2, 2011 at 3:01 pm, filed under Joey Ng, Writing and tagged . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Husband

I just want to trap
someone
into
spending time with me

Order two
desserts
cuz what’s mine is yours and yours is mine

Honey
Cupcake
Sugar
Sweetie Pie

This entry was written by Joey, posted on October 29, 2011 at 3:14 am, filed under Food, Jokes, Writing and tagged , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Two sides to the story

Each, an opposing hero
If you’ve already read one
Would you really buy the other?

This entry was written by Joey, posted on September 28, 2011 at 2:15 am, filed under Writing. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

This is what you have to do to figure out if he really likes you –



NOTHING.

I struggle with this.

I’ve always gone after what I wanted.
In the end, I wasn’t
what they did. Not really.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on January 31, 2011 at 1:42 am, filed under Jokes, Writing. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Self-fulfilling prophet

“The self-fulfilling prophecy is, in the beginning, a false definition of the situation evoking a new behaviour which makes the original false conception come true.” (Merton, R. K., 1968)

In November 2009, I wrote on my secret blog a name, a figure, and a city. Those three
being a would-be lover, salary, and home.
By November 2010, I had surpassed the figure by 40% and unpacked my single suitcase in a 2nd floor walk up of New York City.
I had everything I set out to. Everything but the boy.

But this isn’t a blog post about that which is not under my control. I wasn’t ever going to be able to make someone feel.
But seemingly without much concerted effort I had accomplished the other of my two goals.

The year before, dancing in a too big t-shirt, my best friend and I fancied ourselves in Los Angeles, working out of HQ, sing-songing my supervisor’s name. It wasn’t long before I skyped in from that faraway fantasy musing “Hey, remember when…?”.

Now I’m not going to try to feed you some mumbo jumbo secret self manifestation home dvd bullshit.
But it wouldn’t hurt to try.
To put it out there and see what magic may.

Instead of making resolutions, make predictions.

Now, the hard part is deciding what to wish for.

Reference: Merton, Robert K. (1968). Social Theory and Social Structure. New York: Free Press. pp. 477.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on January 3, 2011 at 9:42 pm, filed under Joey Ng, Self-diagnoses, Toronto, Writing and tagged , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

He said it was the one honest thing he read all day.

Quite frankly, I haven’t been quite honest with you, blog. I don’t even know what I’m trying to protect nor whether I even care anymore.

I suppose I was far too reckless with my honesty, before.
Complete disregard for other people’s, well, emotions and ongoing narratives.

And now I fear that I’m too afraid. A dichotomy of embarrassment and under-potentialising. I feel the need to ‘mature’. To protect the private lives of private people, to hush and class up my act. If this be the public face, the result of search Googled, then what can I bear to let you see and assume and project and personify?

And to what extent do I hide behind Born-again tact, scoffing at girls blogging about snogging my ex, twitpicing their dates and raising my heart rate. How much do I silence my rage, and low lows, or newfound excitement through an ever present melancholy at the cost of exercising my writing. I used to tell you everything.

I still have much to say.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on December 24, 2010 at 4:17 am, filed under Love, Self-diagnoses, Writing. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Number 2 please

When I fall in love and subsequently fuck it right up, I go looking for the exact same things in other men.

Like height
hair colour
bassists
funniness
birthdaystarsigns

It’s like ordering the same combo meal from McDonald’s. Time after time.
And regretting it
later.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on November 27, 2010 at 12:25 am, filed under Jokes, Love, Writing. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

If you mean well,
be kind.

I think people are fairly cognisant of what’s going on, what’s going wrong with their lives.
It’s the common complaint of a mother’s lament. She calls.
And she makes you feel like shit.
I mean, she means well.
But she’ll point out all the things
All the things you already know aren’t quite right
All the things that you wish you could make your momma proud of
But aren’t
right now, not yet.

You should be making more money
You should be with a man who deserves you,
instead of letting him allowing yourself to be,
continue to be hurt by him.
You should call more often.
No, fuckit, see your fucking parents more often.
You should do better.

You were supposed to do better.
And you can, y’know

You know.

So when someone who is supposed to care
shows they care by pointing out the things you
I guess, were perhaps, maybe even embarrassed to acknowledge
or in the very least trying to shelve.
It
doesn’t help.

I think
maybe
if you mean well, be kind.
If you care, then help them feel better
not worse about themselves.
And I don’t mean that you should lie
or enable a bad situation to get worse but
think
take a step back and ask what you can do to make the other person feel
happier.

Cuz usually, I don’t think people turn to those they love
for advice
for a better understanding of themselves,
I think they mostly want to feel loved.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on November 23, 2010 at 2:47 am, filed under Self-diagnoses, Writing and tagged , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

When you’re waiting

for him to make the first move any
move,

but you don’t hear a thing.

When you’re wondering
whether he still cares or thinks of you,

but you just can’t
tell.

You forget
how it’s supposed to be.

He’s supposed to look at you and
gush

“You’re so pretty.”

He’s supposed to put his arm around you
when you cross the street
on the walk home.

Give you an earnest kiss
goodbye and ask to see you soon.

You forget, and so did he.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on November 16, 2010 at 12:39 am, filed under Love, Writing and tagged . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

I don’t believe that women want meaningful relationships with men to take
from them.

Like his independence or his individuality.
But to

give.

Nice things.
Things like his favourite snack, a soft surface,
compliments and good head.

She just wants to know if you’d like those things from her and whether it’d be ok to do it again tomorrow.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on September 15, 2010 at 7:02 am, filed under Love, Writing. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

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