Everyday that goes by, the world dies a little. And with it, so do we all.

This thin facade of reality, breathe and it falls away. At least a sweater has a thread to pull and keeps you warm. This reality is cold, fragile and unforgiving.

‘Shhhh… It will all be alright,’ whispers no one.

‘Here, have a hug,’ whispers no one.


Grey days

Everyday is grey

Grey cement buildings; grey skies

Grey wind blows grey dust

It is raining again. The big toothed girl from the advertisement stares down on me lovingly while I ride the train.
I want to punch her.
It’s raining. No one should be that happy.
I am unswayed by her attempts to make me buy her product, whatever it may be.

The train lurches along the wet track. Falling drops of water explode as they collide with the train. Salarymans and OLs play with their keitai, unaware, uncaring.

Buddy Holly muzak echoes through the bathroom in a steady stream.

My suit needs to be dry cleaned.

Everyday, more and more lights go up. Illumination. Winter is coming!

The Slow Boat to China

An interesting article about how container ships and the people on board work and live.

The Disorder Of Things

The following post is the first in a series of oceanic dispatches from Disorder member Charmaine Chua. She is currently on a 36-day journey on board a 100,000 ton Evergreen container ship starting in Los Angeles, going across the Pacific Ocean and ending in Taipei. Follow her ethnographic adventures with the tag ‘Slow Boat to China’.

“In civilizations without boats, dreams dry up, espionage takes the place of adventure, and the police take the place of pirates.”

– Foucault, Of Other Spaces

cc_EPL2_IMG_0666 Source: Author

There is uncanny beauty in the monstrous. This, at least, is the feeling that seizes me as I stand under the colossal Ever Cthulhu[1] berthed in the Port of Los Angeles. The ship’s hull alone rises eight stories into the air; even from a distance, I am unable to capture its full length or height within a single camera frame. In describing the…

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