It’s been a long day. Not that I mind too much after two typhoon days in a row, but I’d gotten out of the habit of getting out of bed at 6 a.m. The reason for this was that I had to go to the office and finish the translation of a Really Important Document that could have Extremely Serious Consequences. As I said, my new job entails a level of responsibility that initially seemed frightening, at least until I realized that I was the only one there taking it so seriously.

Movie rehearsals on Sunday again, followed by more rehearsing with the Ramblers at Dave’s place. The last rehearsal was a lot of fun, with just enough new material that I have a reasonable hope of recalling next time. It’s interesting figuring out the dynamics of the group and how it operates. I need to get back to Corbett about rehearsing with them, but everything’s been so busy lately with my new job, the movie, etc. that I haven’t been able to work it in. I know, excuses, excuses.

In other news, we won two gold medals at the Olympics! Huzzah!

The weather had cleared by the time I got out of bed this morning, despite indications from the satellite picture that we were still well inside the typhoon. After lunch I went out to take a look and take some pictures now that the rain wasn’t coming down so hard. I found that the river was still quite high, although about a meter or so lower than it had been, as evidenced by the detrius stuck in some half-submerged playground equipment. More people were out and about, pointing at the river as it rushed by.

I walked down to the floodgates, where the water was still a roiling brown torrent. The riverside bicycle path below it was obliterated; it’s going to take a while before it gets cleaned up again. I’ve enjoyed these two unexpected days off, though I lost money because of it. Tomorrow it’s back to work. Also, I need to look for some new shoes, since I now know my current pair, which I bought on Thursday, February 07, 2002 (thanks to the wonder of archives) has finally lost their storm-defeating magic.

The government, having apparently lost faith in the power of my water-resistant shoes, cancelled work and school in Taipei today because of the typhoon currently passing by our north coast. I was thinking the storm would veer off at the last minute like every other storm since Nari, but I guess my shoes are showing their age; it got through anyway. It’s been raining heavily with occasional gusts of strong wind all day; the worst isn’t due until tomorrow.

I spent the morning cleaning house and doing online stuff, but this afternoon I put on the most waterproof get-up I own –my old TVBS raingear– and went out to take a look.

The Xindian River was almost unrecognizable. The usually placid Bitan stretch was now a rushing brown torrent. The wind was shaking the suspension bridge in disturbing ways as I walked along. Below, the water had consumed the steps and was lapping along the promenade. All of the swan boats were up on the side of the levy. A couple of guys with nets were trying to fish along the riverside. Branches blown off trees littered the ground.

I walked over the bridge and back, passing a couple of people along the way. Then I walked along the bank towards the temples up the river. A police cruiser was driving around with its lights on, seemingly to warn people about walking along the banks of the river as I was doing. I kept an eye out for any sudden rise in the water. Just yesterday a student died in a flash flood.

I walked back along the promenade, pausing to allow a nervous cat to pass under the eaves of the shut cafes. Down by the RT mart I watched the water shooting over the damn. Either the floodgates were open or they were overwhelmed; I couldn’t tell which. I wanted to take pictures, but it’s so wet my camera would have been soaked the instant I took it out.

It’s dark now, and the rain and wind are still lashing my windows. I just heard that work is cancelled for tomorrow as well. I wonder what kind of scene I’m going to wake up to tomorrow morning.

I thought it might be a good idea to seperate my filmmaking-related blogging from the everyday drivel I usually write, so I added an as yet sparsely decorated production blog to my site. There’s a link from my films page as well.

Thanks to Wayne’s recent exploits in digital photography, I’ve been looking at relatively high-end digital cameras recently, a true exercise in torturing oneself in a manner akin to calculating one’s hourly salary and comparing it to that of your friends. If I were to blow a wad of cash on one of these babies, it would be on either the Nikon D70 or the Canon 20D. Probably the Canon, as I’m very happy with my little S300, and I’ve always liked Canon’s digital images a little better than that of other brands. Imagine what I could do with one of these things, though. Then again, if I had that kind of dough, there’s a lot of other, probably more useful things I could do as well.

Speaking of Mister Donut, it seems that they are going to make an attempt to return to Taiwan this fall. As I recall from the old stores in the train station and in the triangle-shaped shop next to the old Tonglin Department store, the donuts weren’t that exceptional, but at least they were real donuts. The closest thing we’ve had since Mister Donut left was one half-hearted attempt by Ankiss, an attempt that lasted only a few months. Ankiss is a pretty stupid name anyway.

My guess is that, if the MD spin masters don’t whip up a consumer frenzy by making donuts The Thing To Eat! To Look Fashionable! And Western! so that lines not seen since the good old egg-tart days of yore appear at every outlet, we’re going to see the typical life cycle of a restaurant here, a.k.a. good donuts for about 6 weeks, then a general slackening of service. Fried squid will edge onto the menu after a couple of months, then other more attempts to satisfy local tastes. Then they’ll start frying the donuts along with the squid, sweet potatoes, and bean curd. The servers will get all surly because people complain that the donuts taste like sea-dough, and investment in the franchise will be pulled due to lack of profit.

But who knows? I could be wrong. I’m long past the days when I could have 11 donuts for breakfast anyway. Nowadays I’d be lucky to get 5 at most.

In any case, this fall could theoretically see me one day eating real donuts as I watch the original Star Wars trilogy or the extended version of The Return of the King on DVD after a nice long session of Half-life 2. Talk about the Life of Reilly. Dare I hope?

I’ve noticed a couple of dangerous situations in the past few days. The first one is the new MRT line out to Xiaobitan. The branch line train comes into the Qizhang Station using the same track as the train out to Xindian, but going the opposite direction. One of these days someone’s going to screw up their timing, a train will be a little early, or maybe a little late, and we’re going to have a crash. The line that goes out to Xinbeitou has its own track and is harmless, but this new line makes me want to stay at the rear of the train, preferably behind a large fat person.

The other dangerous situation is the Taipei Train Station shopping center. I remember hanging around upstairs before my train back to Miaoli was due to leave back when I was in the army. It was fairly clean and nice, full of medium expensive shops (or they seemed like that to me then, when I was making about NT$4,000 a month). I ventured up there after work today and was surprised at the difference: the restaurant area, once home to no less than a Mister Donut store, looks rundown and grubby. Hardly anyone was eating there despite the fact that it was 6pm. The shops have all closed, leaving a few temporary stands selling women’s clothing so dowdy it’s in danger of becoming retrofashion, and several racks of cheap Thai, Filipino and Indonesian VCDs. “No English,” the shopkeeper said as I flipped through some magazines. “This all Thai.” The bookstore in the northeast corner is still there, but that and the Lotteria are the only things I remember from before. The place was practically deserted, though I understand that laborers from Southeast Asia flood the area on weekends.

Why is this dangerous? Because it feels just like a dying mall the week before the owner decides to torch the place for insurance money. The fact that it’s the train station will probably save it from this fate, despite the fact that all the popular crowd are now shopping at 101, but it still feels doomed. Hopefully the new square in the stretch between the station and Zhongxiao West Road will liven things up again when it opens. Workers are putting the final touches on it now, and it looks like it could be interesting. Most likely it will end up being Taipei’s version of Central in Hong Kong on the weekends, but there’s much worse fates out there than that. It could become a ghost town like downtown Memphis, for example, but I doubt that will happen until 2050, when Taiwan’s low birthrate begins to take visible effect.

Speaking of Hong Kong, my visa application is still being held up, since the folks there apparently cannot or will not accept that my ID card and passport are genuine. If this keeps up, I might have to have a talk with Random Legislator (who is a kind of superhero here, in case you didn’t know, taking up the causes of any poor schmuck who can advance his caree– I mean, who is being downtrodden by The Great Red Tapewyrm).

In other news, everyone here is gathered round the TV watching our baseball team at the Olympics these days. People at work were taking bets the other day, and I joined a crowd outside the newly opened KMall to watch our boys battle the Greek team on the bigscreen TV. Every time we got a hit, or the other team failed to make a hit, the crowd cheered. This rare show of unity behind our team didn’t quite surprise me, but I wasn’t expecting it from just ordinary folks on the street. Hell, even if we get trounced in the end, even though our athletes have to change their country name to the silly “Chinese Taipei” and aren’t allowed to hear their own national anthem at the awards ceremonies, at least they were there, competing in the ring, and in my mind that makes them heroes no matter what happens.

It’s raining outside as I write this. I had written a huge post, but the New Improved Blogger apparently has a delightful new feature where, when you highlight text to save, it deletes the post. Thanks, guys. Appreciate it.

Anyway, aw;ep9out 0-[snrgo[xpvsp;9as;dlfj’askjf[klsdl;gsadjg;.adsligj[’sad ;alsdjf;.adlsfj;sdlkfj.s;lkfmj;asldkhfs;dlhtaw;oeijtporegkjlxfc as I was saying before I went into a fit of rage and taking out my frustration on the keyboard, my chair and an electric fan that was probably innocent, here’s an abbreviated update on the last couple of weeks:

I have a new job. The hours are longer and the work is harder, but it pays better. There was a significant amount of intrigue concerning the transition, so I think it best to leave the details out of this account for now. I can say that I kind of have my own office, which is cool, and an almost frightening amount of responsibility, which could be cool but isn’t quite, not yet anyway.

I’ve been dabbling more in musical stuff lately, especially after having such a good time at Jez’s housecooling party. One night a couple of weeks ago I joined Dave, Sandy and many other musicians at Bobwundaye for a jam session that ended in a lock-in situation. Problem was, the police kept showing up, but just before the officer in question entered, we’d all hide our instruments and look innoence while he looked us over. After he left, the Amazing Disappearing Blues Band would reappear and start up again, the people upstairs would call the cops, and we’d be off again. To avoid this problem I had brought one of my mutes, which was quite a hit. “TC, where’ve you been all my life?” Dave moaned after one piece where the muted trumpet fit especially well.

“Right here, baby,” I replied. I’m not sure whether it was me or the cider talking at that point. Dean had started the evening with us, but he left to go drinking with Rowan, I found out from the text message he sent me. Apparently I was too wrapped up in the music to notice that he’d left.

Anyway, Dave asked me to join the Muddy Basin Ramblers, which I think it quite an honor. Incidentally, The Ramblers were honored themselves by being invited to play with Michelle Shocked last week at The Wall, but I was so sick with a sudden cold I couldn’t go. Sandy’s been telling me how wonderful it was ever since, dammit. Hopefully I’ll at least get to see a video of the thing. The Ramblers’ next performance is at The Living Room on September 11th. I plan to be at that one.

Speaking of The Living Room, Corbett asked me to join his jazz group there as well. Unlike Dave’s group, Corbett’s group plays late 60’s jazz, the kind that might go well as a soundtrack, I’m thinking. That gig’s more work, involving actual memorization and preparation, but it looks like fun. I went over a few pieces with Corbett the other day, and the harmonies we worked out sound pretty good. We’ll see how that works out. I’m still getting my chops back from going so long without practicing.

In other news, Shirzi was back in town last weekend, and he got about six of us together to go karting on Sunday at the place up on the river north of here. The first round went well, though my car’s engine kept cutting out. It had good acceleration and handling, however. We were discussing technique afterwards when I said, “I bet you could flip one of those things.” It’s a well-known fact that go-karts are almost impossible to flip.

Well, you can guess what happened next. This time around I got a car with an anemic engine and slippery wheels. I tried to make up for it by increasing my speed in general, but on one straightaway as I was passing someone with no room to spare, my front right wheel brushed against the wall. Usually the track wall is solid, so no big deal, but at that point in the track it gave away, folding up underneath the car until I found myself launched into the air. As the ground approached from above me, all I could do was hope I didn’t get crushed. Fortunately the roll bar did it’s job, and I was left hanging underneath the car as it ground to a stop, upside-down.

I struggled to release myself from the seatbelt, just as much from a sense of embarrassment as out of concern over the smell of leaking gasoline, and when I stood up to check if the only injuries I had received were a few small cuts and bruises, I was surprised at the havoc I’d managed to wreak. Pieces of track were scattered everywhere, and all the cars were bunched up like an audience behind the wreckage.

The crew hastily put everything back as it had been, more or less, and flipped my car back over. “Is it ok to drive?” I asked, and they said it was. A few minutes later, with only a warning to “be more careful”, I was tapping Shirzi’s bumper on the next straightaway.

The previous day was Maoman’s and Vanessa’s wedding. This has nothing to do with the go-karting incident; I just thought I’d mention it. The ceremony, which I filmed, was held at a nice little church up on Yangmingshan, with Maoman’s dad doing the honors. Later we adjourned to The Village pool for banquet and cake. I saw a lot of Forumosa posters there; it was interesting to put faces to all the bizarre names and goings-on on that site.

The rain that started earlier this evening has gotten quite heavy. It’s been a while since it’s rained. Shirzi and Peter are supposed to be on a ship headed to Okinawa, straight through the path of a typhoon that’s currently approaching the island.