LP Chester Bennington 1976-2017

Chester Bennington

Profile Picture of #LinkinPark fb page.

Haven’t written a post for a long time. Honestly, never thought I would write this.

Chester Bennington, 41, vocal of Linkin Park, hang himself at home.

Checked my fb first thing in every morning, usually get news like bombing somewhere, other BS from dump US president or another mess up law sues from HK govt against our citizens. Never thought of my favourite singer vanished like this.

I followed LP since my first job, Hybrid Theory, it’s been 15 years now, still Crawling in my mind. LP, along with Marilyn Manson, White Stripes, Evanescence, are my all-time overtime work favourite, boosted me up for those lonely frustrating endless nights.

Remembered I was so excited for LP’s first HK Live, practically dragged my friends to go with me. It was fantastic, just like standing in the studio with them. They are a very hard working band, touring around the world nearly every year. They performance in HK every 1 or 2 years. I glad that I attended 2 of them, at least, one thing less to regret. It’s delightful to hear Chester’s voice in the movies, all gone now.

I spent whole morning looping LP videos and songs in my iTune and Youtube, search for a hint of his choice of passing in between the lyrics. Failed, of cause. In their latest album “One More Light”, though, song titles seem to tell something about it, Battle Symphony > Talking to Myself (the official video release hours before his suicide news out) > Nobody Can Save Me > Good Goodbye…

It’s difficult to LP fans, can’t imagine how devastated it is for his family. As a not-so-hard-core fan, I took it unexpectedly hard. Suicide, always my deepest fear of the love ones would have chosen. Would never sees its coming, crashes you from no where, then leaves you with nothing but a hollow soul.

Instead of RIP to Chester, I would rather say Live in Peace to his family and friends. Hope those loved him, supporting the family through this tragic time.

Change

it’s been a long time since my last post. I found it difficult to write, being trapped by my job for months, seeing the Brexit, Donald Trump got elected as US’s President, elected pan democratic LegCo members got JR then disqaulified brutally by our own government… all the seemingly nonsense now became the sense.  the trembling future has begun and no one knows what’s next or dare to predict.  i just hope the meme i read wouldn’t be true:

“New York, London and HK as the closest brothers, though we are unable to born at the same year, but we shall die at the same year.”

How would you like to be remembered?

Life is a series of odd events chained up together, created other random odds, make you lives full of mysteries, miserables, surprises and joys. We don’t get to choose the event, it just happen.

You thought you were a healthy young person, you have cancer. When modern medicine and your surviving will power helped you to beat the odd, you got killed by accident. So much like Final Destination!

Cheesy but true.

All you can do is whatever happens to you, you learn to cope with it, make every event worth, make a good/unique image for others to hold on.

The unfortunate young man was a kind, warm big brother. He was someone you will go to for advice or help. Though, my memory of him is very limited, I choose to memorize him like this.

My friend told me, she dreamed of her late father and asked him why he never come to see her. He told her that he was traveling in Africa. Instead of whining, she smiled, because this is her father, a free spirit.

I dreamed of my father days before father’s day, he was wearing his suits but 2 sizes too big, hurrying to work, grumpy and tense. This was him, this is what I can remember of him.

How you would like to be remembered?

Preface for “Another ghostish story…”

It was a twist of a Buddhist story, I heard long time ago. The original one is rather simple, and ended when the monk revealed that the lady was the dead body, who came back for searching the one, to repay him with her love. Explain why we had what we had and eventually we will find the one.

A odd reunion, for me.

But the story supposed to ask who indulged themselves in unsuccessful relationships to let go, to take easy every time when we failed. Giving hopes as the fascinating destiny or fate will do.

Are we intelligence enough to see through this, to accept this? The fate that fail us. The chance that slip through our fingers.

It is like chasing ghosts. Or we are just trying to lie at ourselves for a little comfort?

Another ghostish story…

Not a ghost story if you are looking for thrill of excitement. I am sorry.

Here it is…

Sobbing lady turned herself to a monk asking for answer, answer of why every of her relationships fell apart, or simply ended before anything started.

“Take a look at the mirror.” monk said calmly, gently, “what do you see?”

“A beach, with a naked body, all pale and lifeless.” She said.

Minutes passed, monk asked, “now, what do you see?”

“People passed by, some clearly had seen no body, some saw it went away with fear and swallow, and then couple of people stopped in front of the body, grieved. Longer than the others.”

“Anything more?”

“What is he doing?”

“What did you see?”

“A man stayed, grieved with his prayer, sorry for the unfortunate. And covered the body with his clothes.”

“Then?”

“He left. Shaking his head… ”

“Is that it? Anything else?”

She stared at the mirror, fascinated, waiting for somthing happen.

Minutes passed by, she started to feel anxious. “That’s it?! Nothing? She is all vulnerable, all alone, poor soul…”, she sobbed, try to turn her head way and caught a flash at the corner of her eye, a shadow, another man, grieving her soul.

She turned her focus back to the mirror.

He opened his arms, wrapped her tightly, embraced the body with his chanting, then he picked her to a proper ground.

“Is he going to bury her?”

“See…” monk said it firmly.

He dug her a grave, gently placed her in the centre, surrounded her with fresh flowers. Buried her and gave her a head stone with a name.

“You’re home”, the man said with warm smile on his face, “sleep tight”

The image faded, woman looks lost, ”
Why did you show me this?”

“It was you, your previous lives.” continue his calm.

“What? Lives?”

“You were one of those men. And you were once the poor dead body.”

She looked even more lost.

“You once igored the poor body, like you have ignored the poor guy who pursued you. Once you passed by the body, like a glance to the interesting souls passed by. The previous one, he gave you the short happiness and the warmth you yearn for. You thought he was the one, the one to end your miserables. Unfortunately, he left. Just like the man who gave you a cover but nothing more.”

She cried with all her strength, “I thought he is my last…” said repeatedly.

“No, child, your story doesn’t end here. Don’t let your tears clouded your sight. Open your eyes. Someone is coming. Just like there is a poor soul waiting and searching for you. You’ll find each other.”

“What if there is no next one? What if he is lost? What if the next is not the one? What if I am not his one? What if I had my chance? What if … ” she panic, more than ever.

“Woman, wake up from your endless mess!” he commanded.

She woke up from her lonely bed, walked to her mirror, lost in her tears…