Lord, I’m tired. I’ve been aching to fall asleep at my desk all day. This was my schedule last night:

2:46 am: After having visited every single site on the Internet, decide to call it a night and go to bed.

4:03 am: Realize that it’s much too hot to sleep. I get up and turn down the A/C. But now I can’t sleep, so I read something. Anything.

4:51-6:26 am: Watch the sun rise over the park. Wake up Jacques and Diva. Play with turtles. ‘Ooh’ and ‘aah’ over their new waterpark.

7:37 am: Try to sleep again and fail miserably. Tidy up room. Trim dead foliage from plants.

8:06 am: Take out the garbage and, in a fit of exasperation, come to work early.

9:00 am – 6:00 pm: Yawn.

I was listening to Lenny Kravitz’s ‘5’. Just hearing ‘Black Velveteen’ and ‘Fly Away’ took me back to when I was in LA for the millenium, and I played those songs over and over as I walked up and down Manhattan and Redondo beaches all day and night.

Another CD making itself useful by keeping me awake today: Lo Ta-yu’s album ‘Hometown’ today. This is one great album; my favorite song is ‘Hometown II’ where he goes through Taiwanese history in the lyrics. “Story of the Train” is good since I have always liked to take the train here instead of the bus. The video has him walking through train car after train car, each one full of both strange and familiar characters. One car, I remember, had ‘Jiangshi”, or Chinese vampires, with their arms held straight out, hopping to the beat. There’s also a song called “From me to you to him” with Lo, Zhao Chuan, Emil Chou and Li Zong-sheng, who back then were all really popular. I know this really dates me, but I think it is really cool the way these guys do this song together, especially when Zhao Chuan does his screaming bit.

This album also reminds me of how much I’ve changed since 1991, when it came out. Back then I only one of my friends was a foreigner. I was an assistant cameraman at a Taiwanese TV company. I hardly ever even spoke English to anyone. I was hooked on the 8 o’clock soap operas like “Jing Cheng Si Shao”(“The Four Gentlemen of the Capital City”) and “Bi Hai Qing Tian” every night. I ate biandangs and dumplings almost exclusively. When employed, I made NT$15,000 a month and paid NT3,500 in rent for a closet-sized, un-air conditioned room in a 5th-floor walkup near Hsinhai Rd. For fun I would go out to the beach during the day or to pubs like Funky and Tchaikovsky at night. A lot of that time was spent in dire straits of one sort or another.

Yet, somehow, listening to this album makes me feel like I’ve sold out in the time since then, especially since I got out of the army. Like I’ve betrayed some part of myself or something. I know Taiwan has changed a lot since then; so have I, but it’s still a strange feeling. Maybe I just need some sleep, but somehow I think I need something else as well.

On this typhoon-inspired holiday, I did: practically nothing. Unless you count sleeping, creating a little theme park in a washbasin for newly-named turtles Jaques and Diva, and eating pizza while I gasped in open admiration for the action sequences in Lethal Weapon 4. One cool thing about DVD is that I can skip over the mushy dialogue bits and get right to the whole purpose behind this kind of film, which is basically Jet Li and a kick-ass car chase/Pontiac commerical.

The director from the other night didn’t call, so I assume he found someone else to help him out. I would really have liked to help him out; I would even have taken a couple days off work to do it. The thing with having a steady job is that, when an opportunity comes along, you’re not free to take it. I worked on films with Edward Yang and his Gang when I was unemployed, travelling up from Hsinchu for a few months at a time…I guess being independently wealthy is really the way to go if you want to pursue a career in filmmaking.

The other day I came across a couple of interestingly marked cars. The first one was this ridiculous, illegally parked Lexus SUV with a Buddhist swastika on it. At least I assume it was a Buddhist swastika, since you don’t see many real-life nazis running around these days, and you really would think they’d buy German. Even so, I have to admit that I can see the Lexus SUV (the pretentious, fake one, not the real SUV they make, the one based on the Toyota Land Cruiser, which is actually one of the best off-road vehicles you can buy) as the vehicle of choice for the discriminating nazi. I can certainly see it better than I could see it as the chosen mode of transportation for your average Buddhist. I would also think that Nazis are more likely to park illegally than Buddhists. I could be wrong about this, though.

Another disturbingly marked car I came across recently was a Zace truck with the words “Super Dadi Belong to Baby’s World” written on the sides and back. I can only hope this guy is not a chauffer, as this doesn’t exactly instill confidence in his level of maturity. I also hope that “Baby” is his daughter and that she is less than two years old. If she were, say, 17 and her father picked her up from school in that car, she would probably evaporate in embarrassment right then and there. This would actually be cool to watch. I’d buy tickets.

Toraji is taking its sweet time, which is ok by me as we appear to be getting tomorrow off work, so I can stay at home and typhoon-watch. Only about a dozen people braved the weather to come to the play, which is just as well as I came dangerously close to fumbling a line. In fact, we forgot so many lines between us that we finished early. Still, it was fun. Waiting backstage gets a bit tiresome at times, though. Hopefully the next two performances will go even smoother, as long as people don’t stop thinking about this play in order to think about the next one.

I’ve added some new art to my “About” page in the form of a banner, drawn by my friend Simon, who is an artist/web designer. Very cool.

Well, I guess it had to happen sooner or later…just wrote a nice long post, only to have it disappear. Fuck. Usually I can hit the “back” key and get it to return to my post, but not this time. Vanished without a trace. Damn.

Opening night went very well. I think we were all relieved to find out that we could actually do the play from start to finish and have it make sense, in spite of the inevitable hiccups. The copious amounts of Jim Beam we were passing around backstage didn’t hurt, either. There was a sizable audience, and titters of laughter during serious scenes involving blood and death indicated that Taiwanese attended as well as foreigners. This phenomenon would be alarming in another country, but in Taiwan people tend to laugh when they feel awkward or uncomfortable, so our desired effect was acheived.

It looks like Typhoon Toraji will be attending tonight’s performance, however. I don’t know if this will work as our theater is rather small and we might have a problem seating a major atmospheric disturbance. Plus our bouncers suck. They let a lady in for half price just because she came late. Just imagine what they would tell Toraji: “Hey, I know you! You’re that typhoon! Hell, just come on in!”

After the performance most of us went out to Kevin’s place in Mucha for a party his roommates were holding. As usual, the moment I got out of the cab the smell of fresh air out there caused me to wonder if living in the city is the best idea. I didn’t know many people there, but soon more cast members arrived, including The Common Man, whose car broke down. He was looking for a place to stay as he lives in Keelung. Kevin even admitted to reading this journal, which surprised me.

Later on, Ronnie, who used to work at the News, called and told me it was his birthday, so I should come down to the Watershed, which is a surprisingly small bar near Hsinyi Road. I did, and soon found myself being excluded from a group of drunk people discussing George W. Bush’s handshake style. Ronnie was rather toasted by that time, and I was tired, so I left.

Shawn has emailed me the following suggestions for naming my turtles, who are now watching me type this with an understandable amount of facination:

Bud and Lou (Shawn and I played Libyan terrorists with the code names Bud and Lou in a student video back in the late 80’s for Mrs. Bell’s high school history class)

Aeryn and Crichton (from Farscape, of course)

Fric and Frac

BlodBlod and Tweeter

PB and J

Rice and Noodles (I don’t know if I want to make culinary reference when talking to turtles)

Trite and Banal (most people probably think this about my writing already. Do I really want to rub it in?)

Wit and Sarcasm (my muses)

Hmmmm. I was going to call them Green and Blue, but then I it just occurred to me that they’re both green. Maybe Jogger and Sunbather, since that pretty much describes their behavior so far. Jogger keeps trying to get out of the bowl and, like some sort of yuppie, is far more active than a turtle has a right to be, while Sunbather just stretches out on a rock and waits for the rays. Maybe I need to get a bigger, sunnier bowl, or a real Turtlarium.

I’ve been trying to get permanent links up and working, but every time I try to insert the right code, my text disappears and leaves the links. Sorry if it looks like the text has been disappearing and reappearing.

Tom and Ed are doing a Blogathon today. It looks rather grueling. Go feed, parasite-like, off of their sweat and blood.

I opened my curtains this morning to find stunningly beautiful weather outside. Bright sun, clear air….this can only mean one thing, I thought…a typhoon is coming. I checked the central weather bureau and, sure enough, Typhoon Toraji is on its way.

Sword practice went well, as did Tai-chi practice. Afterwards, as I rode back home, I realized that my front disc brake isn’t working so well. The moment I realized this was when a car in front of me decided to pull a panic stop for a yellow light, an event which is quite rare here. Needless to say I braked as hard as I could, locking my back tire, but the stopping power seemed to fade, and I bounced off the guy’s rear bumper. The people in the back seat stared, and the driver got out to look for damage, but there was none. “Yeah, just try and sue me for that,” I muttered, my testicles aching from the sudden jolting stop.

I was at Grandma Nitti’s putting up play posters when Kirk called. He offered to take me to a place to get a new fish, since my old one died. When we got to the store, however, I thought I might get something different, so I bought a couple of turtles. They are scrambling happily(or morosely…one can never tell with turtles) around in my partially emptied fishbowl at the moment. I may need to get something bigger, but at least one can take turtles out and play with them, unlike most fish. I haven’t thought of any names for them yet. Does anyone have any suggestions?

After sitting for a while at Starbuck’s, drinking tea, I was on my way home when I was stopped by a group of people who are apparently making a student film on 16mm for one guy’s thesis project at USC, and they wondered if I could help play a supporting role in the next couple of weeks. I told them I was interested but I didn’t know how much time I could devote to the project since I am employed on a daily basis. Still, it sounds like it might be fun to do, and I haven’t worked on a film set since New York, and I suppose I could take a day or two off work to help them out…anyway, they said they’d be in touch.

In a moment I have to go get the bandage on my arm changed and then I am going to get my head shaved at my friend Shi-chang’s barbershop over by Hsing-tien Temple. Then I have to be at the theater at 2:00, and the play is scheduled to begin at 7:30. This should be rather fun, typhoon and all.

I’m hoping that the raging thunderstorm outside subsides before I have to go to sword practice tonight. I don’t mind riding my motorcycle in the rain, mind you. It’s just riding in the rain in Taipei traffic that irks me, especially when I am not headed home for a nice hot shower, soup and change of clothes. Yes, in that order.

Opening night is tomorrow. It should be interesting, if not to see if we can actually finish the play but also to see if the players not on stage can actually stand to be cooped up backstage for several hours without making noise or getting drunk. Well, without making noise, anyway. Carl, aka Cromwell in the play, brought some posters over to my office today, and we then took a taxi down to IKEA for lunch. Apparently it’s a favorite haunt of Carl’s, which is interesting if you consider the love/hate relationship he has with IKEA. We walked through the store looking for certain props for the play, and whenever Carl would find himself being drawn to some useless knicknack he would shake himself out of it, reminding himself and everyone else in the immediate vicinity that he had promised himself never to buy anything at IKEA ever again. This happened several times. We both agreed that IKEA should be required to place warning stickers at various highly visible places around each of their stores for the benefit of those patrons easily influenced by bad taste.

I should talk, though. I have bedsheets, a rug, a bathroom mirror, shower curtain, a couple of chairs and tables and a stuffed monkey, all purchased at IKEA, the company that sees fit to give you a souvenier of your momentary lapse of good judgement in the form of a huge yellow receipt.

I went to the hospital this morning, and the doctor told me to get another blood test, as the one I took for my physical could have indeed been fucked up by the double Bailey’s and cheese nachos I had late the night before. I hope that’s the case, anyway, and that I don’t have diabetes, which scares me since I wonder whether having Native American blood makes me more susceptible to getting diabetes. Over half of Native Americans over 45 are diabetic, after all. Scary.

It’s Chant World! For all of your Chant needs! Forming a doomsday cult and don’t have anything catchy to repeat over and over again in a monotone voice? Holding a rally or protest and just can’t think of the right thing to shout at your country’s governmental buildings? Visit Chant World today!

This is an actual building not far from our office. Notice the giant microphone hidden in the building’s structure. I took this picture when I was on the roof yesterday looking at the air-raid drill. Personally, I don’t dare go within 50 yards of the place. Who knows what clever sayings they have prepared to lure innocent passersby inside?

The dietician from the clinic where I had my physical called me up yesterday and suggested that I cut down on the fruit and eat more beef. How many people hear that from their dietician?

If I were to name this journal like Ernie named “Little. Yellow. Different.“, I would be forced to call it “Chunky. Pink. Scary.“, and that would just be silly, mostly because I hate pink. I personally am no more pink than Ernie is actually yellow (I am more of a light brown, actually). The only reason I would use pink is because it’s what you get when you mix red and white. I like blue and red and black, and am on friendly terms with several shades of gray and brown, but I can’t stand pink or green (when not in a naturally occurring situation such as a tree or stuff in my refrigerator), and suffer purple only when it has something to do with the 16th century.

“Capricorn: (Dec. 22–Jan. 19)

Your anxiety concerning your place in the universe is allayed when you remember that it’s a little room on Hsin-sheng S. Road, just off Ta-an park.”

(shamelessly ripped from The Onion)

Well, the air-raid drill went pretty well, I thought…a few stragglers on the streets, but for the most part the city looked deserted. I went up on the roof to check it out and called my friend Kirk, who works in the Mitsukoshi building, which is the tallest building in Taipei. I told him I could see his building (one can see that building from anywhere in the Taipei basin; it sticks out like a reddish, angular sore thumb) and told him to look for me, but although he could see our building, he couldn’t see me, even when I stood up and waved.

We’ve got play rehearsal tonight and tomorrow night at the theater. Opening night is this Saturday, which is kind of scary as we haven’t managed to actually get through the entire play in one sitting yet.

I discovered recently that my ears are different from each other. One is kind of rounded on the inside, and the other is like a triangle. I guess that is just as good an excuse as any for why I am still single. I mean besides the fact that I can be a callous, self-centered twit prone to violence and insanity at times.

Oops. There goes my personals ad.

Lately I’ve been wondering if Taiwan is going through its own version of the Cultural Revolution. It seems that people are being made to feel ashamed of their own culture, being made to feel as if Chinese language, traditions, culture, religion, etc, are all sub-par and inherently inferior. Who is behind this? Good question. In China 30 years ago it was the government that started the ball rolling. Here it is a combination of aggresive Western marketing practices, HBO, McDonalds and a huge swath of generally shallow, gullible people making decisions about what is socially acceptable. This revolution is less violent than China’s, but it also seems to be ongoing and insideous rather than blatant and shocking. I wonder if this will make it more effective in the long run as well.

Ach, I need to get out of Taipei. Maybe that is my problem. I just need a vacation and change of venue.