Rather than devoting my precious weekend to the usual selfish pursuits, I have put together a short tour of my room. I figure this is the only way anyone is going to see it, and since my turtles are acting very nervously today (they're in a washbasin at the foot of the bookshelves, in case you're curious), possibly heralding an impending earthquake, I figured I would at least capture the scene of so much debauchery (most of it solitary) for the sake of posterity. Note that I did not bother to alter it in any way from its original state; this is more or less what I come home to every day. Try not to be too jealous.

Yes, today is Chinese Valentine's Day, but I haven't really been out to enjoy it. Don't see how I could, actually. Why isn't there a Singles Day, you ask? Because every day is Singles Day! We're single 24-7-365, baby!
etched by at 4:23 PM

Tomorrow is Chinese Valentine's Day, I realized as I sat in the park downstairs drinking my mint tea after lunch. Some construction workers lazing around the park during their break were razzing one of their number as he argued with his girlfriend on a cellphone about their plans for tomorrow. While I'm usually perfectly satisfied with the single, almost monk-like lifestyle I lead, around Valentine's Day, which Taiwanese celebrate twice, once for the Western version and once for the Chinese version, I get a little irked about still being single, without a single serious long-term relationship in...well, ever, really. I know this is mostly a result of me not really trying, and I still cringe at the contents of most love songs and mushy so-called 'chick flicks', but yes, even I get lonely at times. That would explain the bitterness, cynicism and fits of depression and occasional rage, at least.

The honest answer, though, would be that there aren't that many people out there who are able to put up with me, and of those I don't even know if there are any I could put up with. I've always believed in Yuan Fen, loosely translated as "Fate" or "Destiny" or "A Long Piece of Red Industrial-strength Cable That Ties Certain Individuals Together Throughout the Ages in Their Various Reincarnations", but as the years pass I am beginning to have my doubts. Unfortunately, there is no standard procedure to follow when one has one's doubts. They're just sort of there, at least until someone does something to dispel them. Mine are still around, gathering dust in the corner, but I really don't have room for them, rent being what it is these days. I really should have a garage sale and get rid of them (I also have way too many old video games).

Anyone want some used doubts? Any excessively self-assured Christians, third-world dictators, smug businesspeople or on-the-edge activists out there in need of a little balance and perspective? Anyone?
etched by at 5:13 PM

This guy seems to think that changing the lettering on Taiwan/ROC passports would automatically grant UN entry to Taiwan, and all of the countries in the world would graciously open their doors to Taiwanese of all walks of life. I hate to break it to him that we would remain just as unrecognized with "Taiwan" passports as we are with "ROC" passports. As for customs people not being able to tell the difference, uh, isn't it their job to know these things? Do they mistake South Koreans for North Koreans? Do they mix USA up with Saudi Arabia? I think they need to learn their jobs, rather than us changing our passports to larger print so they can understand it. Ah, well, it's just some American guy in Nevada...he just happened to say something the Taipei Times agreed with, which is basically their precondition for publishing Letters to the Editor, so his credibility isn't exactly stellar anyway.

As for the Irish guy's comments on Taiwan...uh, yeah. We'll learn from Ireland. That'll work, because it's exactly the same situation, except for the fact that it's completely different. I, for one, hope that Taiwan can end up better off than Ireland, or at least with less violence.

I was incredibly busy yesterday...well, considering my normal workload, anyway. After work I went out for some good fish and chips at Mr. Fish in an alley behind the Sogo department store with Steve, Dean, Gavin and Edward. Afterwards we went to the Q Bar, where Carl joined us, and then the rest of the 70's Airport Love Palace, i.e. Catherine, Dave and Eoghain. It turned into a real party, but as usually happens with me, the more people arrived, the more isolated I felt. Anything over 3 or 4 people is out of my depth, socially speaking. Steve felt it unfair that I refer to him as sarcastic when Carl is not similarly described, but I feel that Carl goes beyond sarcastic and is one only a handful of people in the world that would be aptly referred to as 'droll'.

Doug said he and Donovan would be up again this weekend to discuss the magazine, so I have to stay in Taipei again. I would really like to spend a weekend somewhere else on the island, perhaps Kaohsiung, which I haven't visited in years, or even one of the east-coast cities, while it's still summer. I, like Ernie and Daniel, need to get out of Dodge for a while. I think the beginning of Autumn often has that effect on people. Steve mentioned last night, "How many people, when they're on their deathbeds, say 'How I wish I'd spent more time at work!'"?
etched by at 12:55 PM

Whiny Woman became particularly incensed at someone this morning, and our proverbial cup o' whinage has since runneth over. Someone dared do something without her permission, it seems. It's ok, because when I am tired of listening to her I can just play some Power Station. No, not that Power Station, but these two aboriginal guys here who have incredible voices and cool songs, although lately they have been selling out to the more popular and rather mushy love song style. Their song Mingtian de mingtian de mingtian (the translation of which, "Tomorrow Never Dies" boldly taunts several major copyright laws), always reminds me of bowling alley jukeboxes, because that's where I first heard it, back when I was a cameraman for TVBS and we were filming a bowling tournament. Mindcrime actually met Power Station in person once at G'day Cafe, which is run by a group of very nice aboriginal people. He described the band as being quite short. Of course, Mindcrime is several inches taller than I am, so that pretty much describes well over 80% of this city.

Speaking of G'day Cafe, I had lunch there this afternoon. At a table near the wall was a foreign couple, a blond girl and a nondescript guy. I couldn't hear a word the guy said, but the woman's voice overpowered every single conversation in the room. At first I thought they were talking international business, but I soon realized they were discussing film festivals. I was interested despite myself, but I couldn't very well go over and say "Hi, I haven't made a single film since film school a couple of years ago. Pander to me!" I guess I could have, but, unlike my wallet exploding, I actually had a choice in this matter, so I opted to stay put, reading my book and eavesdropping on the woman's half of the conversation, which was dominated by name dropping and pseudo-technical jargon, with very little real information. Maybe I'll run into her at some point in the future, especially if my shock fluid leaks all over my disc brake again.

First I have to make another film, though, and before that I have to finish my book. Knowing exactly how I was going to keep my stomach full in the few months would be nice, too.

Amazon is in the baby business now. When will this online ordering madness end? Although I searched the site quite thoroughly, I still haven't been able to find out exactly where one clicks to order a baby. However they do seem to offer free shipping of babies. Wouldn't the whole sea mail delivery process be kind of rough on infants?
etched by at 4:11 PM

The Muppets sing the 12 Days of Christmas with John Denver. The reason I searched for and downloaded this (this is really dating myself) was because it conjures up a pleasant memory of a late 70's Christmas season when I was about 8 or 9, sitting with my brother and sister in the commodious back seat of our 1969 Buick Electra 225 at night on our way back to our home in Seabrook after a Saturday in downtown Houston, and this was on the radio. My siblings and I were all really into the muppets at the time, and the rendition really cracked all of us up. My sister was also a John Denver fan, although my parents tried to forbid her from listening to his music due to their suspicion that his "Rocky Mountain High" was chemically induced.
etched by at 2:45 PM

Listening to Hei Bao (Black Panther), a mainland Chinese rock band. I saw them perform in concert when I was living in Qingdao, and they were great. I remember, when I first visited mainland China, being surprised to see young people speaking with a mainland accent, since I was so used to only old people speaking like that in Taiwan.

"Wo xiang gaosu ni, ni xiongyong de leisui, yijing jiang wode xin dou diao sui." Sappy lyrics, but I still like the music. Not Hei Bao, by the way. This is Taiwanese singer Wu Qi-xian, singing a rather typical Taiwanese song.

I was late to work again today. This in itself is not unusual. However, today I also got caught, which is unusual. Someone wanted a job done first thing and I wasn't there, so they complained to my boss, who called me wanting to know what the hell was the matter with me. I said I busted a tire, which is technically true, and there is even a new rear tire on my motorcycle to prove it, but I'd still better be more careful in the near future.

A guy representing a computer company wants me to do some work for them on the side. Doug from Taichung also got back to me and said he and Donovan might be coming up again to discuss the magazine. It seems like I am getting all sorts of strange opportunities lately...maybe the vague being is trying to make up for not giving me the opportunity that I had wanted. Sometimes things do actually work like that.

This morning I read about a gay and lesbian festival being held in Taipei soon. They're going to show an uncensored gay-themed movie at the 2-28 park this Friday. I doubt I'll go, as I am not really as 'into' being gay as some people. It's just something I happen to be, like my friend Boogie happens to be black. I don't even like the term 'gay'. 'Queer' and 'faggot' and the like were invented by people to use as insults. I wish we could come up with a better term to use. I like the Chinese Tongzhi ("Comrade"), which used to be used on the mainland as a communist form of address but has since fallen out of popularity and now has a new meaning. As for English, I personally would prefer something like 'Mo', i.e. "So what's the word on the street? Is he a 'mo?" (People are always asking me this kind of question, as if I would know these things by simply checking some sort of internal sensor. I'll tell you right here and now that I have no 'gaydar' installed anywhere on my person, and in any case, I never show up on other people's 'gaydar').

Anyway, I've always wanted to call out "Hey, 'mo!" So spread the word! The word is mo!
etched by at 12:30 PM

After work I went to see Jurassic Park III. Pointless but interesting. It seems that, the more into the sequels one gets, the less evident any love for the craft the people making the film display. The movie simply becomes a parody of itself.

On the other hand, I managed to make a parody of myself just trying to buy tickets.

I arrived at the Warner Village Cinemas about 5 minutes before the movie was scheduled to start, and there was a long line at the ticket counter. Anticipating that I might not make it in time, I called up the automated ticket vendor on my cell phone as I stood in line, figuring it might be faster. In preparation I took out my wallet to get my credit card, as I do not belong to the 0.02% of the population that has memorized their credit card numbers. However, my wallet, being new and as yet untamed, was being stubborn and refused to yield my credit card. The nice artificial Australian man on the other end asked me to key in my credit card number as I dug furiously into my wallet, trying to pull out my credit card with one hand while holding the phone to my ear with the other.

You can guess what happened next. Everything else in my wallet except for my credit card came flying out in a rather explosive fashion and proceeded to distribute itself evenly across a large portion of the floor. People stared. I got down and tried to gather everything up with one hand while listening to the nice artificial Australian man warn me that I still hadn't entered my credit card number.

Suddenly I noticed that the line had moved considerably since the 'explosion', so I got up and used one foot to scrape the detrius from my wallet, including bills, drivers licenses, coupons, receipts and namecards (just in case there was any doubt as to the identity of this particular lunatic) along as I hobbled over to keep up with the line. Finally I tossed my phone on the ground with a clatter and used both hands to pick up the pile of things and put them back in my wallet. People gawked. By the time I picked up my phone again I heard the nice artificial Australian man complaining about idiots who don't know how to use a very simple automated ticket-purchasing system, just before he hung up.

"You fuck!" I shouted at the phone. People stared at me warily and began to edge towards the exit. I was just starting to dial the number again to start the whole process from the beginning when I realized that I was already at the head of the line.

I made it into the theater just in time to catch almost half an hour of stupid commercials featuring such interesting plots as giggling girls squeezing their zits and a robot which causes a family to photograph all of their furnishings into oblivion, which is apparently ok with them because they still have a printer. Of course by this time I had a raging headache that almost, but not quite, made me forget that I also had a full bladder. I understand that at some point there was a movie shown as well.
etched by at 10:44 PM

After fooling with the equalizer, the Volt is sounding much better. I'm listening to Chen Lei, who is one of my favorite Taiwanese singers. He doesn't do the whole Western-wannabe thing I find so annoying, and his Taiwanese is clear and easy for me to understand. I used to sing his "Zi-ran Jiu Shi Mei" (Natural Beauty) a lot at karaoke. I even played it on the trumpet at the KTV for people when I was in the army. The really high-pitched voices of his female backup singers (I suspect that they are all former or current betelnut girls) are annoying, but I don't mind them that much. Chen Lei songs remind me of when I was living back in Hsinchu. It seems forever ago.

Every so often we get tour groups trapsing through the office. Most of the time these are comprised of an endless stream of soon-to-graduate students, gawking and trying to see what everyone is doing...probably wondering what "edit your blog" and "Post to Poagao's Journal" mean. When I see them coming I usually just pull my fedora down over my face, slink down in my chair as far as possible and try to ignore them. What I really should do is do something guaranteed to crash my computer, something tricky and complicated like opening Word 97. The fact that we're still using Word 97 in 2001 should be a clue that this company isn't exactly on the cutting edge, but if they're not bright enough to realize that, then maybe they wouldn't mind working here after all. But the traditional Blue Screen o' Windeath would be more convincing, don't you think?
etched by at 6:02 PM

Listening to Robert Mirabal's "The Dance" on MP3 on my new Rio Volt. Robert Mirabal has such a great sound and meaty feeling to his stuff. It's fresh. The sound on the Volt is a bit dissapointing compared to my old Sony discman, but it's servicable. In any case I couldn't get over 200 songs on one CD with the Sony. I might try to get some better earphones for the Volt, but I doubt the sound will improve much.

Just got back out of the summer heat after going to lunch with Dean and Brian at an the Italian restaurant where we had our wrap party after the play ended. It wasn't as expensive as I had expected, and it is actually walking distance from my office. While we ate at least two female employees came up and fawned all over us, even though at least one of us is gay. I think I'll still go back, though, as the food was very good and the decor well above Taipei standards.

I am still depressed about not getting the job. I know this because I am being even more short and cross with people today than I usually am. I tell myself that what's done is done, but I asked someone today about another position at the same institution, and they suggested that they probably wouldn't be interested in someone who had already been rejected, not once but several times, from various positions. I suppose I should just stop wasting my time there. I would have given up long ago were it not for the fact that several people I know to be less qualified than myself were successful at gaining employment there. But apparently it's not decided according to qualifications. It's decided by god or some other mysterious being with vague motives. To quote the great Thomas Magnum, I know what you're thinking, and you're right. If I were a little sunnier and happier in my outlook than I might stand a better chance at making a good impression on people. But what you don't know is that I suck at appearing happy. When I try to appear abnormally happy, people start calling nearby mental institutions.

So fuck it.

No, I still haven't quite woken up. I have no energy today, even though I didn't really go anywhere or do anything last weekend. I must have caught jet lag from Dean or Kay or both. All I did on Sunday was write about a thousand more words in my book, watch bits of The Mummy on DVD, and then go over to the 70's Airport Love Palace to watch Star Trek. I guess mucking around at home tires me out more than hiking around in the mountains or swimming at the beach. Maybe I would have more energy if I lived in a more rural location. It's a bit of a conundrum, in that I need to get out more, but I also need to stay in and write more. Just desserts, I suppose, for not writing anything in so long, outside of this journal.

I got a new rear tire for my motorcycle the other day for NT$2,000, since the old one was almost bald and perpetually leaking. I can't tell the difference when riding, to tell the truth. At least the tread is intact and actually wraps around the sides more, so maybe I'll spend less time sliding across pavement with this tire than the last one.
etched by at 2:17 PM

I went over to see Boogie at his school after sword practice on Friday, and we arranged to meet at the KFC on Renai and then walk to the Subway near his place. On the way another one of those flash-flood-like downpours occurred, and I waited it out in front of the Pizza Hut on Chunghsiao E. Road. It was a very western fast food-oriented evening.

Boogie has written a script called "Stuck in Taiwan". As I read through it, I see Boogie's life since he came here, and since I've known him forever, I see a bit of my life as well. First Dean, then Steve, and now Boogie are all writing books and stuff, and the realization shamed me so much that yesterday I ignored the beautiful weather(well, except for a brief wander around the park), stayed in and wrote over 3,000 words for my book. It's not that hard to write, it's just hard to keep writing, day after day. I write a lot at one sitting, as those of you who read this account on a regular basis know very well, but I've never written anything on the scale of a book yet, and I tend to go for a long time without writing anything at all, and then I write a bunch all at once. I can think of many excuses why this is so, but it really all comes down to laziness and procrastination. But I'm beginning to realize that the disadvantages of procrastinating really outweigh the benefits, so hopefully I'll be able to keep this up until it's done. I haven't decided whether to try to self-publish or not. Steve did, Dean did not. I suppose it is a matter of whether I can afford to or not, and whether I can hook up any good deals with publishers. I'll deal with that when I have to, though.

Last night Steve, Irene and I went out to Ronnie's ex-ex-girlfriend's place in Mucha. As usual, the smell of fresh air surprised me when I got off the MRT at Hsinhai station. Ronnie's ex-ex-girlfriend has a very, very nice apartment, in a new building with a great view, high ceilings, wood floors and a loft. We chatted and watched Simpsons tapes as we ate chips and drank battery acid- er, I mean coke, until more people arrived, quite a few of whom were at Ronnie's birthday party at the Watershed. Being the shy, reclusive hermits that we are, we left.

The other day I watched Rear Window on a crappy DVD the other day. It was very well done, of course, and it caused me to wonder if there was any parallel between watching other people's lives through their windows and reading about their lives through their online journals. Could the same kind of movie be done today with online journals and webcams? I think so. Of course, it would need a director as good as Hitchcock to pull it off. It would be very easy to do it badly. Most of today's "top" directors would make it just another teen slash flick with nothing more than CGI and TNA to draw audiences.

Dean and Kay are back in town after two weeks in Canada, and I will see them later tonight when I go over to watch Star Trek at the 70's airport love palace. Harry also might be coming over this afternoon to drop off some CD's, but he is busy with factory orders this month and might not have time. In any case, after lunch I am going to do some more writing, even though it is another beautiful day outside. It bothers me that, after all this time, I still haven't finished this book, and it has been bothering me more and more lately. Hopefully this will be enough to prod me into just getting it done once and for all.
etched by at 12:28 PM

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