It turns out that the Source cancelled it’s “Churchgoers” party in favor of their Full Moon party today, so I didn’t bother. Brett called me a disfunctional homosexual at their party last night, but I really cannot see the point in dancing all the time. Instead I stayed home and edited most of the day. I don’t know how many times I should go through the entire book; I suspect that knowing when to stop editing will be difficult.

Rain, rain, and more rain. People are setting off firecrackers, and the smell of traditional barbeques is everywhere. All around town families are gathered around little disposable grills where they are cooking strips of meat and corn as they peer up at the sky, looking to catch a glimpse of the full moon. If one sees the full moon, it means good luck, but the chances aren’t very good as it’s been cloudy. Earlier this evening I looked up and saw the moon peeking through a small gap in the clouds, just before it vanished. The weather is cooling off, and the breeze is quite refreshing. Now I could use a little sunshine. The mosquitos are terrible, no doubt breeding extra fast due to all of the standing water after the flooding.

I bought the Akira DVD, but I can’t stand the goofy English voiceovers. I’d rather listen to Japanese I don’t understand than a bunch of really badly-written and terribly performed voiceovers. It’s still a great movie, though, one of the few ‘anime’ features I can really get into. Kaneda’s motorcycle kicks major ass.

Whenever I’ve searched for anything on Google or on several Yahoo! sites for the past couple of weeks, I either got a 404 or, if I could get through and actually search for something, I get this:

“You are not authorized to view this page. You might not have permission to view this directory or page using the credentials you supplied.

If you believe you should be able to view this directory or page, please try to contact the Web site by using any e-mail address or phone number that may be listed on the www.google.com home page. HTTP Error 403 - Forbidden”

This sucks because I had come to rely on google for just about all of my searching needs. Now I have to find something else.

Anyway, tomorrow is Monday, and I’m off. It’s a great feeling, far better than having Friday off, since Friday is almost the weekend, while Monday is the beginning of a new week, the perfect day to miss. Of course, I’ll probably spend most of the day editing, but later on Kirk, Victor and I are going out for dinner and maybe tea at a teahouse located near Kirk’s apartment, in a one-story Japanese-era wooden house that creaks in the wind and smells old. Such houses are becoming rare these days as they require a lot of maintenance, and the temptation to sell the land to real estate developers is enormous. Still, if I had my choice, I think I would prefer to live in one of those old houses, if it were in good shape and had a yard, than in a large, modern apartment building. Hopefully there’s enough people out there with a similar take on the situation to help preserve at least some of the Japanese structures.

Maurice, orchestrator of the infamous Voyage to Shulin, has got to be the worst purveyor of bad instructions I’ve ever met. Not only was the address for Carl’s Appreciation dinner wrong, but even the right one was misleading. And Maurice was 40 minutes late. Consequently, I wasn’t able to eat before I had to leave for the Moon party in Hsichih. I did see a lot of the people from the play, though, which was good. Steve was there, saying farewell before he sets off for Blighty. The long table the restaurant had prepared was still half empty when I left, so I assume there were more people on their way.

The driver of the taxi I took on the congested route out to Hsichih was one of the more inquisitive I’ve come across, and he had me talking about all sorts of things. When he heard about my peculiar situation, he said to me, “Wow, so you have two families! That must be nice!”

“Not really,” I replied. What I meant by that was, in the states, legal status means a lot, so the fact that I was legally adopted by Taiwanese parents means that my family in the US doesn’t seem to be willing to accept me as part of their family, while blood is more important to Taiwanese, so the fact that I am not ethnically Chinese means that my family here doesn’t really consider me a “real” part of their family.

Fortunately, this rather depressing train of thought was interrupted by our arrival. Lots of people were there, including Harry and Kirk, and the food was delicious. Later on Yuan-ming, Ah-hui and Guang-ping showed up as well, just to see me, which was really nice of them, especially as they could only stay for a little while. I also made some new acquaintances, including a policeman from Panama named Victor who is studying Chinese here for five years (he only has two years left).

Kirk and I were the last to leave. We caught a taxi over to Funky, which we found packed with people. There were some rather good-looking guys there, but for some reason I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Everyone there seemed just too damn happy. The kind of happy that makes you suspect an unsuccessful lobotomy or two is lurking in their past. Rather than just getting drunk and just enjoying it all, we decided to catch a cab home instead. Tomorrow there is supposed to be an event ironically named the “Churchgoers Party” at the Source. I might go check it out, even though I said I wouldn’t go there again. If it’s anything like the Tea Dances they used to have in Hong Kong at Club 1997, it might be worth going to.

I finally saw 15 Minutes on DVD. I was impressed with its efforts to avoid cliches and predictable plot, but it was still rather rough around the edges, as if the direction of the film were a small dog that kept trying to wriggle out of the director’s grasp. The antagonists were the best I’ve seen in a long time, and while both of them really steal the show with their excellent performances, Oleg Taktarov really caught my eye because, to be blunt, he’s hot. I really hope that vacant, vaguely crazed look in his eyes is part of his act, though.

At one point, one of the villains, Emil, starts singing: Kaaaaaaaalin-ka, Kalin-ka, Kalinka moya. Vsadu yagoda Malinka, Malinka moya… I can’t believe I still remember this song. Ochen spasibo, Dyadya Vanya.

As of 6:00 last night it was still raining, so I finished up some last-minute documents as fast as I could and grabbed a taxi out to the Minsheng district where I have sword class. The building where the class is held, however, was closed down due to flood damage. Kirk had told me that he was interested in watching some of my Monty Python DVD’s, though, so I walked back to Fuhsing N. Road to take the MRT back, stopping on the way for some chicken that left my stomach in knots.

Kirk decided after watching one episode that Monty Python was not so much “humorous” as it was “chaotic”, even though some of the skits had him chuckling. I had originally wanted to go out, but my stomach was still bothering me. Kirk insisted, however, so we walked over to The Source, and as I sat at the bar for a couple of hours nursing my mandatory drinks, I wondered yet again why I even bother going there. Everyone there already knows everyone else, and no one seems interested in meeting anyone new, much less someone like me. It’s all closed cliques, full of foreigners and those Taiwanese who like foreigners exclusively. Every time I go there I vow it’s the last time, but then I forget and end up going again because it’s the closest place to where I live. Kirk was interested in one guy across the room until he overheard that said guy was returning to the States today.

As usual, in the end nothing interesting happened. Kirk and I walked back up Heping E. Road in the rain, past the crowds of trendy revelers spilling out of Spin and 99, to our respective abodes.

It’s still pouring down rain now, has been all day. I haven’t ridden my motorcycle in at least two weeks because it’s either been raining or I was in Hong Kong. With most of the MRT lines out of service, getting around these days is pretty inconvenient. Later on today I am going to Carl’s Appreciation Dinner as well as Brett’s and Alan’s Moon Festival party out in Hsichih, and possibly out again after that. I’d also like to get some editing done before I leave, but as it’s almost 3:30 I doubt any productive work will get done. Fortunately, due to the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival National Holiday, we get Monday off, so there should be plenty of time for editing tomorrow and the next day.

Yuan-ming and another old friend from Taichung, Ah-hui, are coming up today to pay tribute to Ah-hui’s late boyfriend, who killed himself and was found to have been living a double life, with two seperate identities. His grave is in Tamshui, so they are going up there, and then to the hot springs in Beitou. I invited them to come with me to the moon party tonight, but I’m not sure if they will come or not.

Sorry if today’s entry seems rather…lackadaisical. This weather just weighs on me, especially after literally weeks of the same soggy, sunless days. Recent familial issues haven’t helped, either. Still don’t know what, if anything, I can do about that.

This morning as I walked to the MRT station, I was crossing under the Jianguo overpass when one woman nearby me asked another woman, “Excuse me, I’m looking for the American Institute in Taiwan. Can you tell me where it is?”

The woman told her that it was just up Xinyi Road, in the direction we were headed. We continued walking, but when when we got to AIT, with its lines, guards and signs indicating where to line up for visas, etc., the woman walked right by it. She obviously thought that the American Institute in Taiwan, which basically is the US embassy, would be housed in something a bit more elaborate than a couple of run-down shacks with tin roofs. I suppose she thought that the high-rise next door that houses the National Health Insurance Bureau looked more suitable, because that is where she went, looking around her confusedly. I walked discreetly on, thinking that she would find it eventually, and even though I would have liked to see the look on her face, I wanted to get to work on time today for a change, since my annual review is coming up and hopefully I’ll get a decent raise. And while I’m dreaming, I might as well hope for a place on the New York Times’ Best-seller list when my book comes out.

My parents finally responded to my constant emails concerning a possible trip back to see my grandmother or possibly attend her funeral. I guess they figured they couldn’t ignore me any longer.

“You’ve made your life in Taiwan,” my mother wrote from the small town in Oklahoma where they live now, about an hour’s drive from the even-smaller town where my grandparents live. “Your friends and ‘family’ are there and I think to try to recreate some sort of ‘family’ here would be a mistake. You must remember that your grandparents have shown no love to you in many years, if ever.”

Harsh.

That is how bored I am today. I actually don’t like the term “Straight-acting”, simply because I’m not acting. I would be acting if I tried to “appear” gay, i.e. doing all of the stereotypical things most people associate with being homosexual. But unless I’m acting in a play or something, it’s pretty much ‘what you see is what you get’.

Listening to my childhood idol Satchmo to cover up Whiny Woman’s daily whinage. The weather sucks, but not so much that work was cancelled. I feel uninspired and vaquely fatigued even though I haven’t done anything more strenuous than wondering what I wanted for lunch. It must be the weather. I hope it clears up before this weekend, which is the Moon Festival, so we get Monday off as well.

This Saturday has been designated “Carl Appreciation Day” (by Carl, of course), and we are supposed to celebrate this momentous occasion with dinner at an Italian restaurant called “Giorgio’s” near Ren-ai Road and Yen-ji Street that night at 6. My friends Brett and Alan are having their Moon Festival party out in Nangang that night as well, so I’ll have to leave early, but that’s just as well since the next thing on Carl’s fans’ agenda is a cover-band concert in front of city hall.

My parents seem to be ignoring my email inquiries about my grandmother’s condition. That would make sense if what my sister is saying is true, that they want to keep me in the dark so long that it will be too late for me to get a ticket back in time. I don’t see how it could be a technical error, since I’ve tried from multiple addresses, it never gets bounced back, and they are able to receive other people’s emails just fine.

I’d rather they just tell me to my face to stay away instead of playing these idiotic games.

And now, since I have nothing better to do…

I had a terrifying dream last night. I was in some medium-sized city, perhaps DC, and it was under a WTC-style attack, and nobody knew where or how it would happen. I went up to the roof just as a huge C130, painted olive drab, was swooping down out of the sky and heading just a little to my left. It looked like it was going to slice in between the building I was standing on and the one next door. Its wings hit both buildings and the rooftop began exploding towards me. I realized that there wasn’t any place for me to go, and I wrenched myself awake. It was some time before I was confident enough that I wouldn’t be returning to that dream to go to sleep again. But I did return. I can’t remember what was going on, but it was the same general situation.

This might, of course, be an indirect result of sandwiches and the several different types of alcohol I imbibed last night at 45, along with Dean, Graham and eventually my friend who informed me of the job offer yesterday. Also present was a short Taiwanese girl named Rita. She was sitting with Dean when I got there, but he didn’t seem entirely happy that she was there. When Graham arrived, still dripping from the wet windy weather outside, we politely excused ourselves and went upstairs to a table, but Rita didn’t take the hint and followed us up. I didn’t think much of it until she began trying to enter the conversation. Now, there’s nothing wrong with being part of a conversation, but her contributions were a tad, shall we say, kooky, even if you don’t take the alcohol into account. At one point she said to me, “You speak Mandarin and Chinese? Wow!”

Another time she was talking about how many Taiwanese fawn all over foreigners, and I said I hated that kind of behavior. “No!” she exclaimed. “No, no, no, no! You love it!”

No, I assured her, I detest it. But she was adamant. “No, you foreigner! You cannot feel that way! You love it! I am Taiwanese! I hate it!”

Okaay…

At another point she asked me the question everyone wants to know: “Do you have Chinese girlfriend?” I said no, I didn’t.

“How many Chinese girlfriend you have before?” she then asked.

“None,” I replied. She stared at me, shocked.

“I don’t believe!”

“It’s true,” I insisted. She stared at me some more, and then a sly grin appeared on her face.

“I think maybe you….homosexual!”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” But she was shaking her head.

“No, I just joking.”

When I didn’t say anything further, trying to shift my attention back to the others, she burst out laughing. It seemed I was a hit of some sort.

Needless to say, our interaction with Rita quickly descended into the kind of polite nodding one reserves for escaped lunatics while one is waiting for the authorities to arrive and take them away. She didn’t take that hint either, however, and stuck around until we left around 1am. Luckily I didn’t have to pretend to be out of business cards; I really was fresh out. A close call, actually.

In between Rita’s odd interjections, the rest of us discussed the new job opening, which, it turns out, isn’t at all definite just yet. It sounds interesting, but Graham probably needs it more than I do at this point. Still, we’ll see what happens. This month has really thrown everyone for a loop; it’s hard to keep up with everything all the time.

The following cell phone commerical is on the radio all the time these days:

(sound of cell phone ringing)

Woman with ridiculously high-pitched voice: Eee!* What’s that sound? It’s wonderful!

Randy Businessman: Oh, that? Why, that’s my cell phone!

Woman with ridiculously high-pitched voice: Wah-ooh!** It’s so great!

Randy Businessman: Yes, isn’t it? It’s proof that I am a superior male with a large penis. Have sex with me!

(sound of cell phone still ringing)

Woman with normal-pitched voice*** in the background: Someone answer the damn phone!

*Taiwanese women use “Eee!” as a cutsy exclamation. Foreign men who were taught Chinese by their Taiwanese girlfriends can also occasionally be caught saying things like this, which is pretty damn funny if you ask me.

***Taiwanese women with normal-pitched voices are seen as less attractive than Taiwanese women with artificially high, sickly sweet, almost childlike voices.

For the last couple of days I’ve been getting almost constant ICQ messages from porn sites. I don’t know why this is, but the “ignore user” button wasn’t working. So I decided to try the “reason with user” button:

nadiasuc4: Check out my pics at http://imaslut.de.vu

poagao: Go away.

nadiasuc4: Check out my pics at http://imaslut.de.vu

poagao: What you’re doing is illegal. What’s worse, it’s really annoying.

nadiasuc4: Check out my pics at http://imaslut.de.vu

poagao: My lawyers will be in touch with your business. Expect a summons.

nadiasuc4: Check out my pics at http://imaslut.de.vu

poagao: Check out your last day on earth.

Somehow, I don’t think I was getting through.

A friend of mine from the newspaper called me this afternoon and said there’s an opening at the newspaper where he’s working now, which is a different one from the paper where we were working before. My first instinct was to call up another friend, Graham, and tell him about it, since he just got back and is looking for work. But then I began to wonder if I should consider it myself.

This position would probably pay more than I make now, but in return I would have to sacrifice my evenings, as working hours there are 3pm to 10pm. I’d also have to sacrifice half of every other weekend. The content I’d be editing would probably be more interesting, but then again there’d be that daily deadline to deal with every day…and there’s all of the reasons I took this job after working my last job at the newspaper, even though I’m not making as much here as I was there.

Maybe I should ask for a raise. If I were making more money here and not sitting next to Whiny Woman (hopefully I wouldn’t be after we move to our new office in January), it would be a lot easier to get up and come in every day. Also, I feel like here I am at least still living in Taiwan, since everyone here is Taiwanese, even though some of them are annoying. At the paper there were so many foreigners it felt like I was working in a little bubble of extraterritoriality which irked me no small amount. It seemed to sap all the meaning out of living in Taiwan.

Again, the danger of apathy towards one’s job is that one will be unnaturally attracted to other jobs one won’t necessarily like any better. It’s like going to the supermarket when you’re starving: you probably won’t be the best judge of what you should eat and will most likely end up stuffing your face with the first thing you come across, which could very well be Little Debbie Cakes covered with Ragoo spaghetti sauce. But after an hour you realize that it probably wasn’t the wisest choice and swear off using second-person ever again.

Hoo, there really should be a license to analogize.

As I was taking the MRT (elevated line) home tonight, I noticed that the illustration on my pass card was amusingly appropriate, considering the fact that most of the subway is under water or full of mud at the moment. City Hall says it will be at least two weeks before we can use the underground portion of the system again, not including Taipei Main Station, which was completely inundated and will take even longer to get working again.

It looks like work is still on for tomorrow, in spite of the typhoon weaving about drunkenly in the ocean to the southeast of us. Fortunately, my friend and former News co-worker (I know, they’re everywhere) Graham is back in town after a stint back in Blighty, and we’re going to go to 45 for drinks after work.

I’ve also come up with a small banner you can use if you so desire. These are actually pretty fun to make, so if anyone wants me to make one with different or bizzarre dimensions (sorry, no supermodel figures or state outlines, unless it’s something like South Dakota), just let me know, and I’ll give it a shot.

Daniel is revamping his site and has a new banner.

Banners fun. Me need banner. Massive audience awaiting eagerly.

Sarcasm annoying.

Randall has gotten me back for posting a cheesy picture of him by posting a cheesy picture of me (He started it, though, I have to say). Notice how incredibly pale I am after sitting in the office for months on end. I look like a vitamin-D deficiency poster boy these days. I need to get out more, which is unlikely due to our steady stream of typhoons in recent weeks. Our streets reek with mold and mildew, and various pieces of soggy furniture and other detrius litter the sidewalks. The car-cleaning business next to our office building is doing a brisk business, however. Motorcycle repair shops are probably raking it in as well.

Still, we could still score yet another day off due to the next storm, which is currently heading this way and gaining strength. Coming back to the office after a week off today was pounded in for me by the sound of someone in the next cubicle clipping what seemed like too many nails for an ordinary human to the strains of “The Carpenters Meet Zamfir the Incredible Flute Thingy Player” playing over the PA system.