20 August 2010

Future Sentimental Group

Written to accompany the exhibition “Milk Plus (Special ‘Don’t Worry’ Chemical)” at Fold Gallery, London, June 2009. Published on the Paper Monument website.

People want to have a new sense of voyeurism, they want a new level. This is something I’m really interested in. We still don’t know how this is going to grow or pop, but we know it isn’t going away. This is very important to me—I want to be in the middle of this. These other people have cracked something fundamental, and that’s what we’re looking for. We want to crack something fundamental. I think when I was in, you know, corporate America, I think part of my soul died. Now I want to be inside at the beginning of something, not the so-called well-oiled machine.


This Hi-Ping Poon was an upstart, with his mediocre hair-statement, and outdated cowboy-look. Vice-Supervisor Sun decided he would show him who was the most creative ideas-man in the Future Sentimental Group.


My status is I just finished jerking off. I was picturing this romantic movie, you know with like Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, but when they wanted to do the sex scene, they didn’t want to do it, so they just brought in other people, and they fucked. They switched to the porno scene and they just put in these like, stuntspeople. Like body doubles. They might have to use some editing tricks, you know, have the double paint her nails the same color as Meg Ryan when she’s cupping his balls and shit. She’d probably have to clip her nails. Have you ever noticed how they have such long nails, like when they put their hands above their heads? They’re so lazy, they just want to lay back and get fucked and not think about anything else.


Two week of always exhaustion, always angry for small annoyuance, memory no good. “Immeasurable virtues is patience and forbearance.” Ren Shen Yang Rong Tang and licorice decoction. Also turning off air conditioner during rest-time.


How’s that different from drugs? It sounds like drugs. What do I mean? I mean the illegal kind. Chinese Flower? Is that like chamomile? I don’t really care, so long as it’s not ginger—don’t give me the ginger lemon thing. It’s probably chrysanthemum. Looks like chrysanthemum—that’s a powerful insecticide. It is! What, you don’t believe me?


Two or three cups of café-style into the Friday morning meeting of the Future Sentimental Group, Sub-Director Hi-Ping Poon spontaneously brain-childed a new creativity: “total revelation vibe.”

Around the office, it was rumored that this Hi-Ping Poon, who was rarely seen interacting with co-workers on a smalltalk/mingle basis, was a loner-outsider-complex type, or “loner-con.” It was known that he had succeeded in only two personal achievements since he had started at CVTV, one of which had been with Administrative Assistant Genevieve-June Kwok, who had facial disfigurements.

“Are you going to begin any time soon, or do I go grab another café-style while you prepare yourself psychologically?” asked Sun, with a sneer.

“Please, Vice-Supervisor, if you wish to refresh before I begin,” said Poon.

“No, Sub-Director,” barked Sun. “I do not wish to refresh. When I feel the need to, I will myself decide to refresh. Now are you going to unveil your creativity, or do I just get back to my task-at-hand?”


This was wintertime, and I was in a hotel pool, very drunk, up in the skyline, in the middle of the night. I couldn’t feel my face. I had been crawling around on the floor, pushing people away. We had gone south. I led a group of young people south. But I felt it even harder and had to call the doctor. I hadn’t been planning. I had to call the doctor that morning. Someone else had to, someone at the hotel desk. He told me I needed a “deep, restorative sleep.” The medicine he gave me gave me headaches. I was glad to know it was the medicine because when I walked through the crowds, I thought it was the crowds.


Buy VCD x 3 (Sigh of His Highness恭亲王), DVD x 4 (Wars Of In-Laws 我的野蛮奶奶 Volume 1-20). Disc 3 of “Wars of In-Laws” is found wrong one, he only advertising about facial disfigurement suffering, solve acne embarrass, something this kind. I send angry complain on email.

“Feeling despair only when arrives at Yellow River.”


I couldn’t call anyone. I kept calling my lover. I called her over and over. I thought she wouldn’t be my lover, I called her so much.


Executive Vice-Supervisor Jik William Sun hadn’t escaped the backwater of the Junior Department by being an ignorant “agree-man.” As the Chairman himself had told him once, while they were both drunk on Chianti-style, “Here in the entertainment circle, our commodity-focus is people. So we must devote to become people experts.”


You are perfectly talkative when we’re talking. I mean, we communicate in the same way. It’s not a question of whether you can communicate or you can’t, but that it has to go somewhere. It takes practice. We have been practicing for, what, five years, but well, it’s hard. I mean, if you’ve been doing something for a very long time, like longer than you’ve known your spouse, that’s hard. When I was younger I’d just take bits and pieces of fairytales, but now I have this voice that says, you can’t tell stories. I don’t know how to not tell myself that I don’t know how to write prose. It’s not that easy. You tell me it is, but look who’s talking.


“What is this?” the Vice-Supervisor screamed. “Where is the spontaneous creativity in this? Ripping up our Elegance-Reverie Strategy like it was a piece of paper! Typical loner-con behavior!”

Director Kult looked at him uneasily; one of the sub-directors adjusted her boob-tube.

Image: Milk Plus—James Howard, 2009

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