Saying goodbye to part of myself

 I still have in my possession just about every book that I have ever brought been given or owned. It's been for a very very long time an intrinsic part of how I see myself. Other people have cats, some collect handbags and shoes, with me its books, however truth be told I've been reading less and less these days, and most of the new ones purchased from the charity shops have gone unread. i'm at the time of life where I begrudge  time given to a bad book or ones i don't enjoy. Even though I am  buying fewer books, even  with one or two every couple of months my shelves are creaking at the seams. So its off to the charity shop for what I estimate to be about a third of my fiction collection.

I thought I'd be able to find the will and courage to discard more, but more than just stories, which can be borrowed from the library or found online now, i find the sentimental value of the books to be more than the words inside, seeing again the first books I owned brought some thirty plus years ago now, the series built up over the decades, the books that were with me at different points in my life, remembering  as a child visiting fantastical lands and strange planets. All the books that give me joy and pleasure fill two shelves now, another three shelves are of books  I will let go of in time, and I have one shelf of books enjoying a temporary reprieve, to be read one more time before disposal.

Amongst the first to go though are a wall of Tom Clancy war thrillers and his ilk, I found no joy or pleasure in the their continued ownership, nor the will to reas them again. I know at one time i enjoyed these books, that i loved them as I love all my books, but the world has changed. it was one thing reading about America's war machine in the early to mid 90s. Its another to read those books in a world that has experienced the horror of real war. I had thought to delay the disposal of some of my books by auctioning them on ebay, but I guess other readers have the same view of Clancyesque books as I do, there was page after page of ebay results with zero bids.

I've noticed it before in the charity shops, all of a sudden you see the sudden arrival of a flock of similar books. Someone is moving and cannot take their books with them, is getting married and needs the space, has handed in their starfleet commissions and no longer need their Star Trek novels.

Feel sick

Feel a bit sick watching a TVB special celebrating the Xinhai revolution, for some reason TVB is conflating the uprising and China with the CCP,  the show is being sponsored by HK business and trade associations (capitalists by any normal measure of the word) what really made me ill is the MC's used the phrase "let a hundred flowers bloom" without any understanding of what that phrase means historically making the show nothing but a case of arse licking of the CCP, and that the show's encouragement to understand and learn from history is so much Hypocrisy.

Of course it could be a slick underhand criticism of the current CCP and HK SAR's attempt to not only quash dissent but to try and pretend that it doesn't exist, but I doubt it.

Nostalgia

Listening to various versions  of  美酒加咖啡 (Fine wine and coffee) on youtube and  万沙浪's version (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7-G7IOiTBA)  is one of the best, started looking for it because I've been listening to the Timi Zhou version of the song on DVD and wanted  to listen to it in the background whilst online. I love the Timi Zhou rendtion of the song but like everything that she does hes is laced with a ton of saccharine, no criticism it's one of the reasons why I listen to her after all. But at heart hers is a little girl's version of an adult song, some of the versions on youtube bring so much more depth and emotion to the song. I'm impressed and appreciate 楊小萍's  version, though I find it hard to listen to and harder to love. Her's is sang with the emotion of an older woman wronged and scarred by love but still addicted to the  "wine that is love" I can hear and feel some of the hurt not to say desperation that she sips with each refilled glass.

I can't help but feel that these are songs that I should know, songs heard in the background unappreciated by my younger self. I remember standing as a child amongst the vinyl in a shop in London's China town in the early 70's, as songs like this one played in the background, my parents browsing but only ever so rarely buying a record. I remember our old wooden record player and our small record collection. Most were mum's collection of Cantonese Opera (for which I showed even less appreciation then the Mandarin popular    
songs of the time) however there were three records that I would listen to again and again Simon and Garfunkel's Bridge Over Troubled Water,  Agne's Chan's debut album  Will the Circle be Unbroken and a third album of which I forget the name of and the singer. I do remember two songs on it though Chinese Charleston was one and a second was a narrative based on zhaungshi's butterfly dream. (googling suggests that it might be a record by Rebecca Pan).


The 70's would end with the gift of a tape player all for myself and a stack of cantopop tapes, most of which I still have, but somewhere over the years the vinyl has all been lost. I think of them still and on occassion mourn their loss, and when nostalgia strikes me I trawl the net for moments from my childhood.

Blogging

Three almost four months since my last blog entry. How do people keep up daily postings. Its not exactly that I have nothing to write about so much there are things I'd rather keep to myself. The thing this is a pretty anonymous blog, unread as far as I can tell so exactly am I worried about?

Happy today, despite worries about money and courts and litigation. My nephew called me uncle despite his autism, even though it was just over the phone I could feel his happiness. Put things into perspective, live for things that really matter.