If I could, I would sit beside you on a red futon mat.


If I could, I would sit beside you on a red futon mat.

I could say that I want to talk endlessly but all I really want is to hear you sing.

I would hear your raw, raspy voice pulled beneath the caves and thrown up high to Mt. Everest.

If I could, I would let you sing for me alone.

I would sit on a single high stool and you would stand in front of me fidgeting with a button on your shirt and letting out that gem of a voice.

Because it’s cruel, shallow and selfish, I’d rather have you sit beside me, lean back and close your eyes.

Yet even that is not selfless.

If I could, I would take your hand, grip it tightly and never let you go.

Because it’s creepy and could give you hernia, I’d rather have you squeeze my right hand for a second with a smile in your eyes.

If I could, I would want to travel with you.

We’d go to Seoul, Taipei, Bangkok, Tokyo, Paris, Vienna and New York.

Because I don’t have a visa,I lack highly in funds and impossible, I’d rather wish you see the world and cheer with your friends.

If I could, I would sit beside you in a park from a dream where red old leaves fall on soft green grass and we’d have nothing but comfort food and comfort silence.

We’ll have sashimi, ramen, soba, cheeseburgers, fries and coolers.

Because it’s a shoot in the dark, an impossibility and a dream, I’d rather wish I was in the crowd swaying to your music and hoping you’ll feel loved.

If I could, I would bring you to my hometown, show you our wooden beach front and we’d pick shells when tide comes low.

Because I’m a stranger and I don’t know how to pick shells, I’d rather wish you see your own hometown and hug your family the tightest.

If I could, I would take your hand and have you look at me like you never would with anybody else.

Because a million more dreamed of this and you can choose from million better more, I’d rather wish to see your wide, unapologetic, brilliant grin with sure and pure joy from someone you freely choose.

If I could, I would make you mine.

Because it’s never mine to decide, I’d rather let you choose.

If I could, I would sit beside you on a red futon mat but I’d rather not.


The Yellow Jacket of Ardour


“I don’t know… Maybe this is one of those things, one should never ask. Maybe it’s one of those things with no beginning and no end… Maybe it’s like God, the Alpha and the Omega… … don’t know… don‘t know why it’s like that… All I know is that they say it’s all in the heart…”
Chapter III
Book of Yellow Jacket of Ardour

If you happen to see a petite and quiet lady across the street then that is Chalance. This is Chalance Intrepid, not the most unusual female on earth but one with the most unusual names. She usually sits on a corner of her bed with a notebook and a pencil. She writes…well, vigorously and passionately. Her bedroom is on the attic of their old house. She writes because of events. She writes when something happens to her. She writes when something happens to the country. She writes when something happens to the world. She writes when something happens to other people. Right now, she writes because something happened to her.
Chalance Intrepid met a person. Maybe it’s a person who would, maybe forever, change her life. Chalance Intrepid always wishes for something to happen to her. She wants to get out of her monotonous life. She wakes up at exactly 5:15 in the morning, brushes her teeth, cooks breakfast for the family, eats, takes a bath, puts on her blue uniform, and at exactly 7:25 leaves for work in her old, brown VW. She arrives at the office with two stacks of paper to finish. She finishes at 4 in the afternoon, goes to a nearby grocery store, buys what’s missing in the house and at 4:45 goes home. She arrives with an over cheerful smile on her face, kisses the two old people on their porch, unpacks, changes clothes, cleans house, washes clothes, cooks dinner, watches television, eat, read a few, writes anything, and sleeps at exactly 10:15 in the evening. Everyday it’s like this. Everyday of her life it is like this. Except on Sundays, where she doesn’t have to go to work. On Sundays, Chalance cleans and trims the garden and takes her old bicycle to a park nearby and drives all by herself.

“What if it will never come…? I thought they said ‘There’s always that ONE who will certainly arrive’… What if it wouldn’t come for me?
…what if it already did?”
Chapter V
Book of Yellow Jacket of Ardour

One Sunday, Chalance Intrepid went to the park. She sat on one abandoned tree to refresh herself. As usual, Chalance stares blankly at the park when she noticed a man about her age (she’s 28) jogging with a black Labrador. Chalance seldom notices anything. There must be something special about this to her. Suddenly, the man disappeared and Chalance shrugged her shoulders and continued staring at the trees. She felt a strong tug at her big shirt. She’s not the shrieking type so she just gave a soft, surprise gasp at the dog tugging her shirt. Then the jogging man appeared and sharply said “Hale, stop it!” The dog immediately let go of her shirt and went to his master. The jogging man bowed slightly and spoke. “My apologies Miss, my dog’s a little overwhelmed to know you.” Chalance just said, “It’s ok.” The jogging man extended his hand and said, “I’m Mark James.” She took it and said, “Hi.” The man said, “Mind if I sit here for a while? What about you? What’s your name?” She consciously said, “Um no, it’s alright. I’m Chalance Intrepid.” Mark looked at her curiously and said, “I didn’t get that.” She spelled it for him and said, “I like your dog’s name.” Mark patted the Labrador and said, “Hale. It means strong. Just like my boy.” The dog wagged its tail. “Just like my name”, Chalance blurted out. Mark said, “What?” “I said just like my name. It’s from a word. It’s supposed to be nonchalance, which means casual. But I am not casual, so they made it Chalance. And my surname Intrepid, it means fearless.” Mark just smiled and said, “Interesting.” Then something sounded like a small buzz. It turned out to be Mark’s phone. He took it from the pocket of his jogging pants, stood up and said, “Well, I go to go… Will I see you here next Sunday?” She shyly said, “Maybe.” Mark said, “Good.” Then he reached into his pocket and amazingly took out a pen, took her left hand and wrote 62599387. He smiled and said, “If I’m not here on Sunday, call me, please.” Then he left.

“There are different shades of cowardice…sometimes they’re inescapable…you want to get out…you always know there is a way…
…But you just can’t…”
Chapter VII
Book of Yellow Jacket of Ardour

Next Sunday, Chalance made it to the park but after two hours of pretending to stare at the trees, Mark didn’t make it. Although hope wasn’t lost, Chalance was extremely upset and disappointed. She went home and did her usual chores. At 9:30 in the evening, up in her room, Chalance stared longingly at the phone in the corner of her bed. She repeatedly said, “62599387”. She had memorized Mark’s phone. It was almost 10:15 but Chalance never made the call. Every night it would always happen but Chalance never made an attempt. One Saturday evening, Chalance said to herself, “What’s an Intrepid for?” Then she lifted the phone, dialled 62599387 and let it rung three times. Something clicked and a voice said, “Hello?” It was Mark. But Chalance never said a word, she just opened and closed her mouth and suddenly she put down the phone. It was almost 10 o’clock. She took her notebook and pencil and started her book, “Book of Yellow Jacket of Ardour”. She started her first lines “Yellow Jacket, there are several varieties of bright yellow of social wasps. Yellow is my cowardice. Yellow defies the fearlessness of my soul. This is my ardour. This is my love.”
And Chalance Intrepid’s life was always, as always, and will ever be the same. 08/30/05 03:45 pm

“You were 12? What about school?”

“Oh, school was fine, never interrupted with my research.”

“What about research interrupting with school?”

She laughed.




“What 11th commandment?”

“Thou shall not be late.”




”I wanted to tell her to stop… avoid any kind of pain. Then I remembered the happiness. It was irreplaceable. Never regret the things that made you happy. I softly squeezed her fingers.”