A message to whomever keeps turning on the typhoon magnet: cut it out! It’s the middle of October already! We’re not interested! Try next door. I’m sure Vietnam would love a nice big typhoon.

*grumble*

We’d better at least get a day off out of this. It’s already looking nasty outside, just in time for me to get off work so I can walk around in it.

I planned to print out my book today, but whenever I open it up I find myself going through and changing little things here and there, adding bits, deleting bits, etc. I just can’t stop editing the damn thing. Supposedly there will come a point when I can’t think of anything else to do to it, but I wonder if that’s really the case. More likely I’ll just get sick of looking at it and throw it at publishers while they looking away, just to catch them by surprise and see the looks on their faces when 250 pages of my drivel rain down from above. “But it’s interesting drivel!” I’ll explain.

I called the travel agency this afternoon and am on standby for trips to both Perth and Sydney to increase my chances of getting a ticket before this Sunday. This Saturday we have our Taichi Sword competition, so I can’t leave before then. It should be interesting, I think. I’ve been in Karate competitions and Kung-fu competitions before, but never a Tai-chi Sword competition. I imagine it’s much more relaxed and informal, but I could be wrong. Maybe it’s like an secret society meeting, with all kinds of talismans, magic shirts, rituals of fire and militaristic overtones. Now that would be interesting.

My friend Shawn sent me a tape of the Enterprise premier, but it has yet to get here. Damn, I hope it didn’t get lost.

Ha ha! The weekend is over, and I may not have done much of interest, but at least I finished the first rough draft of my book! It’s almost 70,000 words, or about 230 pages at this point, and still needs some tweaking here and there, but for the most part, it’s done. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to print a copy or two out for friends to help proofread it (hint, hint).

It turns out that Dean and Kay are not actually moving to Chingmei. Rather, they are moving out past city hall, near the Frenchie Department Store on Zhongxiao E. Road. I might go out and take a look-see tomorrow or the next day, unless the typhoon out browsing the pacific decides to pay us a visit. I think I’ve had enough typhoons this year, though. I could really do without another.

Signs of the upcoming elections continue to proliferate. After I bought some subway sandwiches from “Subzone”, which up until recently was a Subway store, I took my lunch to Ta-an Park, but the park was smothered in ugly campaign flags, and a political rally over near the stage was in full swing, the sound of the party faithful chanting their idiotic slogans, puncuated periodically with blasts from air horns and providing a less-than-peaceful atmosphere.

Last night Kirk and I went to a nearby restaurant for tea and cookies. It was quite pleasant sitting out on the patio, but the kind of people walking up and down the street in some sort of fashion-show travesty made me wonder about that neighborhood. The area I live in is quintessential “bo-bo-land”, or “Land of the bohemian bourgeoise”. It’s also, apparently, the land of the oxymoron as used in Vogue magazine. Ick.

Even though the weather was great today, I was good and stayed home to edit for most of it. If I do the same tomorrow, I may just be able to finish this draft of my book. The main reason this would be good, aside from the obvious, is that I am hoping that I can con a couple of friends into filling in for me whilst I go trapsing about down under, and since this would require such impeccable timing that I would pretty much have to leave in about a week’s time, I would like to at least have a rough copy of my book done, lest I fall prey to pangs of guilt and remorse during my hard-earned vacation. My friend Jimmy said I might be able to crash at his place in Sydney, which would be very cool. I need to save my $$$ as much as possible while I’m there.

So I didn’t do much today other than go out to eat, look at happily sleeping cats in the pet store window, update my photography page and change my turtles’ water (always great fun as it really confuses them. God probably feels the same way about astrology). I did notice that year-end elections are approaching, though. One candidate for the legislative yuan took it upon himself to open up an office downstairs from me, but I have to say that it looks more like a 24-hour betelnut stand than an election office, except there’s no scantily dressed woman manufacturing narcotic paste inside (as far as I know). Outside the oversized poster shows a smiling, apparently healthy middle-aged man, but the very same man inside, looking rather overweight and haggard as he hunches over a computer at 11pm, tells a very different story.

I just got an email from International Festival of Cinema and Technology. They’re interested in The Trick.

Whoa. My first thought is, why would anyone be interested in The Trick when The End is so much better? Even Coolishness was better than Trick, I thought. How odd.

Last night I went shopping at Tower Records and bought a couple of CD’s, including some Frank Sinatra and Red River by Knife in the Water. So far it looks like another one of those CD’s on which I only really like one song and sort of like some of the others. Nice countryesque/Alternative atmosphere, though. It would be good music for long drives across vast, deserted states.

Ally McNoying is wearing huge sunglasses in the office today. I’m waiting for her to bump into a wall. I know, I’ve been known to wear less-than-utilitarian things at the office, but at least I can see out of a fedora.

Last night I rode down to the big motorcycle shop on Jianguo near Ba-de Road. I go there every few months to look at the big bikes, the 400-600cc models I would like to buy and ride but can’t because there’s a law here against motorcycles larger than 150cc. This law was implemented in 1982 to protect the local scooter manufacturers/gang bosses from having to exert themselves dealing with any competition. Consequently, our streets are flooded with 50cc two-stroke scooters that have polluted the air far more than more powerful 4-stroke engines would have. This law is also standing in the way of our access to WTO. My friend Gavin wrote a piece about the whole issue in the newspaper.

The dealer guy said that we will probably get into the WTO early next year, and then they’d start selling the big bikes around this time next year. I’ve been hearing that sentence for a decade now, so you’ll understand if I’m a tad skeptical. Thankfully my current motorcycle has lasted this long, and it stands a good chance of lasting another year, but it’s a bit moot as I simply don’t have the NT$200,000 or so needed to buy the kind of bike I want, like a used Yamaha R6 or a Honda CBR600F4. So for now I’ll just have to be content with riding down to the big bike shop and leaving my biannual drool deposit.

I’ve found a new noodle shop I like. It’s on a street behind my office building, and the dry noodles are delicious. The only drawback is that they always keep the TV tuned to a horrible Taiwanese soap opera whose plot is basically a vicious cycle of shouting men and crying women. I used to be really into that type of show, but after a couple the plots got old and nothing ever changed. It was always the same “Evil man hits viruous woman. Virtuous woman cries. Evil man hits now-crying virtuous woman again. Virtuous woman calls righteous hero figure. Badly choreographed fight ensues.” I know, it’s classical mythic structure according to Joseph Cambell, but I need a break now and again, or at least some good camerawork to spice things up.

Random childhood memory: riding in a car somewhere one night with a relative of mine, I can’t remember which one….a familiar song was on the radio and I started half-whistling along to it. Part of me wanted to show off that I knew the song, but part of me didn’t want to seem like the kind of person who whistled, so it was more like that pseudo-whistle you do when you really really want to whistle but don’t want to offend the people around you, coming out more like a hesitant, semi-musical blowing sound.

“Cut it out,” my relative told me. I was silent for a couple of songs, then I started up again, almost without realizing it. My relative turned to glare at me.

“Don’t whistle at night. It attracts ghosts. Don’t you know anything?”

Happy Double-Ten Day yesterday. October 10 is National Day in Taiwan. The Republic of China is now 90 years old. I assume there were parades and balloons and fireworks, etc., but I didn’t see any of it. I noticed a few more flags around; that’s about it. As usual, I wasted the entire day by going out to eat and watching TV, when I should have been hard at work on my damn book. It’s my damn book now because I just want to get the damn thing finished and published. Ok, just finished. I’ll worry about the publishing part later. I look forward to it, actually, because at least I’ll have the damn thing finished.

I wonder if seeing the light at the end of the tunnel is spooking me and keeping me from wanting to finish it? It could be that deep down I’m afraid to find out if it’s any good or not. This is cowardice, pure and simple, just like all writer’s block, because it’s so easy to say you have writer’s block, as the assumption is that you could write wonderful stuff if you could, you just can’t. Bollocks to that, I say. Just write and have the balls to find out whether or not your stuff is shit or not. Oh, and don’t be a lazy bum like me, who can write the equivalent of a full-length novel in a blog but can’t be bothered to finish editing a book that’s practically already written.

Harry called and wanted to know if I wanted to go back to the hot springs, but I said no, I should stay home and work on my damn book. Oh, well. Why is it, after a day off work, during which I really didn’t do much at all, I still feel tired and depressed? One day off in the middle of the week is good, of course, but it’s more than a little like just eating one nacho; nachos are good, but just one? And no dip?

Our friend from Azerbaijan, Fuad, came round last night as we were watching TV at the 70’s Love Palace to announce that, apparently due to his middle-eastern looks, he had lost both of his jobs that day. Both were English-teaching jobs, and Fuad’s English, while excellent, is obviously not that of a native speaker. Still, bit of a coincidence that he would lose both gigs on the same day, enit?

Dean and Kay are moving to Jingmei, a suburb southwest of Taipei, some time before the end of the month, which is good in that hopefully there will be less of a likelihood of flooding and closer proximity to a MRT station on the Hsintien line.

Another silly test, via Luke. I know that spreading these vapid memes is a waste of time, but what else am I going to do here at the office? Work? Shyah! As if?

(Ok, ok, I admit that I recently purchased the Wayne’s World DVD.)

The Budget Nazis are on the prowl. Shouting “Recession!”, they take advantage this golden opportunity to push their policies of financial restriction, framing every aspect of any institution in terms of profit targets met and unmet, thus contributing to the effects of the recession and extending their reign of terror. It’s a vicious cycle. Ignorance is indeed bliss. If I could only believe the words of the Budget Nazis as I edit our replies to their demands, maybe, just maybe, I could also comprehend the attraction of such intellectual delights as Sabrina the Teenage Bitch.

One of my co-workers just asked me if I, being the swashbuckling rebel figure that I am, would be willing to be interviewed by the company magazine. I said ok, but I honestly don’t know what I could talk about without getting my ass fired. Something tells me that this journal should remain undiscovered, but they might want to know about my photography and films, all of which are on this website. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll just talk about Tai-chi sword or something simularly harmless. Maybe I’ll give them a demonstration, and if they get too close to the truth, *slash-slash*, and no one will be the wiser.

Except you, that is. But that’s ok; I’ll let it slide as long as you stay in Mississippi and keep eating those donuts.

I hate cubicle runners. You know the kind of run people do when they’re running in a cramped office, that sort of floppy, half-jog that everyone suspects happens a lot in gum commercials? Gah. It’s an office, people. Walking around with files and shit is generally enough to make you look busy. I don’t even need the files. I just glare at people and they assume that I’m worried about something like the Global Economic Slowdown or Last Quarter’s Profit Margin, when in reality I’m just pissed off because the vending machine doesn’t work, or because my job is boring as hell.

One good thing about smelling like sulphur even though I took a long shower and changed clothes: I think it annoys the hell out of Whiny Woman. To express her dissatisfaction with the onerous state of affairs, she has been holding long discussions with the second most annoying woman in the office, the Woman Who Always Leaves Her Cell Phone On Her Desk And Doesn’t Answer It, Preferring Instead To Let It Ring Over And Over.. but I’ll just call her Ally McNoying, since that’s her name. All I can say is thank god for Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921) for composing the kick-ass Bacchanale from the sequel to Samsom & Delilah: Sometimes It Grows Back. Gotta love music where you know the musicians are playing as loud as they physically can.

Thanks to Doyce for turning me on to Warp 9 to Hell, an online comic that’s damn funny and features a sexy main character by the name of Usagi. There’s another main character named Mofo, but he’s not my type. Still, check it out. Beats reading war news any day of the week.

People’ve been telling me I need to get the hell outa Taipei for a spell, and I have to say I agree. Now, anyone out there feel like filling in for me for a month or so while I go annoy Australians in their native environment? You could experience first-hand the adventure that is life in my office, and even get paid for it! Watch as pretentious Taiwanese “office ladies” strut and preen, throwing meaningless English words at each other like fashion grenades! Listen as Lisa Ono goes one-on-one with the Carpenters! (if you think you’re gonna get to use my Volt, think again, suckas. It’s goin’ with me).

Ok, by now you’ve probably realized that I’m in a better mood than I have been recently. Part of this is my little excursion yesterday to romp naked in the mud pools on the far side of Yangming Mountain. But another reason is that my brother’s wife just gave birth to a large baby boy (seven pounds 14 ounces is large, isn’t it? It would be large for a melon, that’s all I know). This is really cool because I think we could all use some good news for a change.

Oh, I added a couple of new pictures to my photography page and updated my links page as well. Some of the sites I enjoyed in the past, unfortunately, have surrendered to the urge to spend every day ranting about the war, US policy, etc., which is fine, just not something I feel an urge to read about on every single site I visit every single day. I suspect that I’ll probably have to update that section again soon, too.

I reek of sulphur. How did this come to be, after the weekend of editing I promised? Well, things didn’t quite work out the way I had planned. Fortunately for you, I didn’t spend a boring weekend in my room editing my book. Such a dull prospect was simply too much for me to face. I needed to get outside.

Saturday afternoon I walked over to Grandma Nitti’s for lunch and bumped into Carl, Maurice, Lori and Maurice’s girlfriend, who were all engrossed in Lori’s recounting of a disturbing dream. So I ordered and sat down on the porch to listen. I won’t recount the dream here, of course. Even I have some standards of decency.

Eventually they left, leaving me alone on the porch. Eventually I was joined by a portly, smiling cat, who climbed up onto the chair next to me and fell into a comfortable nap. It was all very pleasant, so I continued to sit and watch the people walking by as evening fell. Not long after I finally left, Carl rushed past me, heading back towards the restaurant. I barely had time to register his presence before he blurted, “No time to chat. Have to pee,” as he rushed off.

This morning I was awoken not only by the sun shining through my curtains, but also by a phone call from Harry, who was planning a trip up to some hot springs on the other side of Yangming mountain. I had planned, of course, to stay in and edit edit edit, but somehow I just couldn’t face staying in all day yet again. The weather was just too nice, so I arranged to meet Harry and another friend, Yong-gen, halfway up the mountain.

It was good to get out of town again, riding my motorcycle on roads other than the one to and from work. Harry was late, of course, so I wandered around a nearby park which had a busy stream running through it. All kinds of people were walking around enjoying the nice weather. The park appeared to be quite old, judging by the ancient bridges and other stonework. One set of tables was placed right in front of a culvert, however, which makes one wonder just how much communication went on between the various designers of the park.

Eventually Harry and Yong-gen showed up, and after a stop at 7-Eleven for seaweed rolls and yoghurt, we continued up the mountain. It wasn’t long before he drove right into a massive cloud that was hovering over the top of the moutain, and both temperature and visibility dropped quite suddenly. I had to turn on my lights and put on a jacket. The weather on the other side of the mountain was most cloudy and cool. Occasional traffic jams on the twisty, narrow roads made us glad we hadn’t driven a car, however.

The hot springs turned out to be a large complex encompassing restaurants and karaoke bars, as well as the hot springs themselves. The men’s section was comprised of a series of stone pools strewn about on the slope of the mountain, all out in the open air, many of them inhabited by hefty, naked and also quite asleep taxi drivers who snored as they soaked. Some pools were hot, some cold, and some in between. There were high-pressure showers and mud baths filled with a substance not unlike wet cement, except that wet cement doesn’t usually contain so many twigs and leaves, on which one could float quite easily provided one didn’t mind getting mud in one’s ears. There was also a TV set and wicker chairs and tables to sit on. It was easily the best hot springs I’ve ever been to in Taiwan, and I’ve been to quite a few. It felt wonderful to sit in the hot spring water and soak up the heat while gazing out over the clouds grazing the dark green tops of neighboring mountains. We spent several hours going from pool to pool, often lazing around in the mud baths and chatting. When we got out, we were all statue-gray.

There was a Taiwanese-American guy there who needed a lift back to the city, so Yong-gen let him ride on the back of his scooter. The fog on the way back was even thicker, and we paused once or twice to take pictures of the fog banks from which we had just emerged. The city, however, was still enjoying sunshine. Coasting down the mountain on a motorcycle is hard because you have to either keep it in gear the whole way, which hurts the engine, or keeping the clutch in all the way down, which hurts the fingers. On the way down the near side of the mountain we stopped at a small park and all tried to capture an image of the reclining buddha statue with our digital cameras in the failing light. Then we parted ways, and I headed over to the 70’s Airport Love Palace to watch Star Trek.

All in all a good, tiring day. I needed something like that, I really did, even though I should have gotten more editing done. Any editing would have been good, actually. But I was seriously going to go stir-crazy if I stayed in one more weekend, and a slight sulphurous odor isn’t too high a price to pay for one’s sanity, now is it?