My video production class’s final assignment this year was to make a video about our personal connection with our art, be it music or otherwise. The professor suggested many ways of doing this, including using the latest AI tools to convey things not previously possible with traditional video production techniques.

Now, anyone who knows me realizes that I have been rather stridently anti-AI from jump, having seen way too many bad-faith attempts to pass off AI-generated imagery as actual photography, and while I still have many reservations (and I still don’t consider AI-generated images to be actual photography), I realized that I didn’t have to actually use AI to fabricate images out of thin air for this assignment; rather, I could use it as a tool to animate actual photographs either of me or that I had actually taken, bringing the images closer rather than further away from a  more comprehensive atmosphere of the scenes I was describing in the video. I used apps like Kling and Vidu, though others probably would have worked just as well, and Suno to produce the music, to lyrics that I wrote myself. The AI artifacts are of course noticeable, though I feel that those will most likely be smoothed over in subsequent iterations of the tech.

The result is here: On the Other Side

Any readers out there who knew me during the times depicted in the video might be able to recognize the scenes displayed in some of these clips. That house was my actual house in Maitland, Florida. I really did wear that riotously colorful band uniform at Maitland Junior High School. That tan Datsun 810 was my actual first car. I did participate in the Wild Lily student protest, etc. All of them are real scenes, and though they may not have actually looked like they do in the video (which would be not just unlikely but downright uncanny), I was surprised at my visceral reaction to seeing them “come to life” as it were, many of them corresponding to my memories of how things actually went down. It felt like the AI was digging out buried memories, even though I knew that it was simply recreating them based on my prompts, which were in turn based on what I remember of those days, all the way from standing in my driveway in my scout uniform ready to go camping in the early 80’s, all the way up to walking the red carpet at the Golden Melody Awards a few weeks ago.

Am I biased because these are all personal memories that are significant to me and likely nobody else? Of course I am. It’s likely that to others, this is just a jumbled collection of incoherent scenes that don’t mean anything in particular, even though I tried my best to match the lyrics and footage to convey something greater than either. But as with any attempts at expressing oneself, I feel it’s better to keep trying, to keep making things, even if they just disappear into the algorithmic void time after time, in the slim hope that some small part of the signal can make a difference to someone out there, on the other side.

So I recently concluded the first year of my master’s program at Chungyuan U. I’ve learned quite a bit, and it’s been a fascinating change of pace in general, but I’m not gonna lie; it’s also been a bit of a slog, not only rushing to catch trains back and forth from Zhongli several days a week, but at the same time teaching the community college photography course as well as the university photography course, working my day job and other gigs, and also Rambler gigs, all at the same time. I really need to cut down on all of this somewhere if I’m going to keep up this pace. However, I do now have, including the required courses for the second year, more than enough credits to graduate (with, if I may say so myself, a pretty damn high GPA), so next I just need to get working on my thesis, album, and performance, all of which are going to be difficult enough without having to worry about other classes.

The community college course concluded last week, after I had some great online discussions with my friends and excellent photographers Blake Andrews and Nikita Teryoshin about my students’ work this semester. Well, besides the meeting with students to discuss their photobooks yesterday. And online meetings with other students that should happen this week. Then it will have concluded (I think).

Our latest album, Jug Band Millionaire, having been nominated and not winning a Grammy, was also nominated for a Golden Melody award, thanks to the inspiring work of our friends at Onion Design. Stuff I’ve worked on has been nominated a few times over the years, and the first time the Ramblers were nominated, for Medicine Show, I thought it would be fun to do the whole red carpet thing. And it was, but it was a little awkward as we didn’t really know anyone, the chairs were uncomfortable, and we didn’t win. So the next time we were nominated for Tiger, I thought: Meh, maybe skip it. And then we actually won. So we all went again this time, and things weren’t nearly as awkward as before, possibly because over the intervening years we’ve met and know more people in those circles, and also just one of the few perks of getting older: Just not giving a fuck.

We met up in the hot sun outside the Taipei Arena, feeling odd to be dressed up with no instruments, and then went down into the backstage area where police were leading sniffer dogs through the long crowded hallway that leads to the stage. Presenters were getting makeup done, and various groups

milling around in various regalia. The chairs in front of the stage were much more comfortable than last time, nice and padded. They put us in a luxury van to drive us around the block so we could get out and wait to walk the red carpet. As we set out, I was just about to say something snarky like, “And now cue the awkward silence as people try to figure out who the hell we are,” when actual applause and cheers came from the crowd, surprising me. In addition to my ever-present Leica, I was also modeling my equally well-worn Taiwanese Wotancraft messenger bag, not out of any sense of fashion, but rather simply a lack of space anywhere backstage to put stuff. At the interview spot I couldn’t help but take a photo of the wall of photographers opposite, many of whom made the de rigueur peace sign in response.

Inside the arena, the sound and light shows were much more intense than I recall from last time, and I had to don sunglasses and air pods to make it through the show without being overwhelmed. As it turns out, we didn’t win, but the show was fun, there was witty repartee in some of the speeches, and it was nice to see some old friends.

Our next show was last Saturday night on the tiny stage at Craft House,  a tight fit as we were joined not only by violinist Moses, who is leaving for the States soon, but also Andrew, who is our incoming saxophonist. The show was raucous as only a Ramblers-With-New-Members-Figuring-Shit-Out can be, but also a lot of fun. Amazing to think we’ve been doing this for 20-very-odd years.

So, as classes and things are wrapping up, I am, to be honest, kind of burnt out. My mind resists thinking about things I have to do next; I haven’t even looked at the photos I’ve taken since February FFS. I need a break, some time and place to rest and recharge before everything starts up again in the fall. In the past I would have loved to just take a solitary trip to Japan and just space out there for a week or so, to regain my mental footing, but circumstances are different now; I’m going to have to be creative in making this happen somehow. There’s supposed to be a ferry from Keelung to Ishigaki starting in September, but that’s not soon enough (I am still interested in that, though). I do miss riding the crazy bike along the riverside paths as I did back in the day; I need to dig it out of the depths of the garage and take it for a spin. Not immediately, as the first typhoon of the season, Danas, has us in its rear view mirror at the moment, having taken an unusual path up the Taiwan Strait, and providing us with hopefully enough water to make it though at least part of the summer without a drought. But the trails might be a bit of a mess right now and need some time to recover. I can relate.

During our photography class last Friday, Chenbl made the unusual move of slipping out of the classroom, leaving me to navigate his computer while we were looking at students’ photos. He had hinted to the students about a “special secret guest” coming to the Rambler gig I had the next day, and I’d wondered if it might possibly one of Chenbl’s mysterious alter-egos, a la Captain Chaos but Actually Fabulous, but when he came back I was surprised to see he’d brought our old friend Junku Nishimura with him. Junku was our gracious host when we visited Yamaguchi in 2017. I greeted him with a friendly WTF? and introduced him to the students, some of whom knew him from the BME workshop we’d done in Taipei several years ago.

After class we met up in Ximen and went to a stir-fry place to catch up while enjoying plates upon plates of various meats and other fried things before I had to catch the last train back to Xindian.

Saturday was the first time the Ramblers have played in a while, and to be honest things haven’t been the same since our beloved Paradises left our fair island for the dubious wilds of the Floridian panhandle. Our latest album, Jug Band Millionaire, having failed to win the Grammy it was nominated for, is now up for a Golden Melody award, and we plan to be at the ceremony. It will be my second time walking that red carpet, and should be fun.

On Saturday, however, we were playing for a graduation celebration of the Art Department of Fu Jen University. Soundcheck was supposed to be at noon, but as Ramblers will Ramble, we only got started at around 12:40, after a bit of hand-wringing by the staff. Chenbl and Junku showed up, Junku armed with (he claimed) the required traditional bottle of Shaoxing wine necessary for such events. It was a traditional show, and I sang Four Seasons of Red (四季紅) with, according to Chenbl, a bit more stridence than the song merits. “It’s like you’re worried that people won’t understand your Taiwanese pronunciation,” he told me afterward.

“But I am,” I said.

“Your pronunciation’s fine; don’t let that get in the way of actually singing the words!” Now, as Chenbl can SANG sang, this is no doubt good advice and something I need to work on.

I won’t be able to make the next show due to having class out in Zhongli that day, so I left the washtub bass stick for David, and headed out into the Plum Rain-soaked avenues with Chenbl, Junku and several students. We took the metro to the Songyan Cultural Park, where Junku bought a film cannister-adorned belt-hook, and then out to Xinzhuang, because Junku wanted to see some place with “old streets”. He was staying at that one old guest house in Wanhua because Of course he was.

It was raining even harder in Xinzhuang, but we braved the wetness and walked down the old street, lined with traditional shops, exploring alleys and temples and stopping for snacks along the way. I’d been pulling all-nighters trying to get homework done so I was rather tired, but some coffee jelly did the trick. Night fell, and the students bade us farewell, after which Chenbl followed his nose into an alley where we found an old-style restaurant, its walls yellow and cracking from decades of cooking smoke, adorned with signs forbidding the consumption of alcohol on the premises due to “that one time”. Nonplussed, Junku pulled out a green bottle of “medicinal” spirits he’d purchased. I could smell it from across the table (“Minty, not mediciny!”).

But it was getting late, I was tired, and the rain relentless. We parted ways back at Ximen Station, where Junku and I performed the traditional farewell ceremony of Photographing Each Other from Opposite Subway Trains.

Today, it’s back to the pleasantly forested campus of Chungyuan amid the last of the rainy season, before Dragonboat Festival and the arrival of spectacular summer heat. Classes are ramping up as we approach the end of my second semester; my digital music production class is even requiring me to reacquaint myself with my old nemesis, the bass clef (odd thing for a bass player to say, I know, but in my defense, I never use sheet music for Rambler bass lines). Also, my video production class is delving into the uncanny valleys of AI, and my other classes have so much homework that I’m no longer able to audit the second-year classes I’d been enjoying up to now. Last weekend my recording class took a field trip out to Yuchen Studio, where we recorded Millionaire; it was good to see Andy and learn a bit more about the place’s functions and history. Apart from the photography class, however, my own photos have just been piling up on my hard drive for the last few months, and will likely continue to do so until the end of the semester.

But, you know…so far so good, actually. It’s fun being a student again, interacting with interesting new people, including both my professors and follow students, and I have yet to tire of taking the train to and from Zhongli, though regretfully I have not yet been able to explore that fascinating mess of a municipality as much as I’d like to. Perhaps I’ll have more time during this summer break, though I really need to figure out what I’m going to do for my master’s thesis projects. You’d think I’d have plenty of time to plan that during the hours I spend on the train; in all honesty, I just like to sit and look out the window while munching on a hurriedly-purchased station bento lunch and sipping enough coffee to get me through my afternoon classes. It’s become a kind of necessary meditation amid all of the hustle and bustle of my life these days.

To wit: One day on the train, the rhythm of the sunlight, bouncing as it was off the passengers lost in their dopamine delivery devices, gathered up the previously distinct concepts of imagery and music in my mind, coalescing them into the idea that time is a far more profound aspect of our reality than we recognize. That is to say, photography and music are really both just variants in the expression of time, and the effect they both have on our consciousness and subconscious takes us to very similar places. Perhaps that might explain why music and photography coexist in the lives of so many artists.

Making that into a thesis, though…might need a few more trips.

The new semester has begun in earnest. Although all of my courses are in Chinese, I’m taking two courses that are more language-intensive than the others, one on lyrics and another on educational theory, that require quite a bit more involved levels of the language than the other courses. So while last semester I was either at the top or near the top of all my courses, this semester I’ll just be glad to get a passing grade in all of them. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even had time to properly explore Zhongli, as I recently lamented to Josh, whom I’d run into near campus when I was having dinner between courses.

It’s also becoming even clearer just how much I don’t know about music production (spoiler: a lot). Our production professor, who is tele-teaching from Beijing, is assigning actual song production this semester whereas last semester we were just going over the basics of the software (Cubase, which I find difficult to use, but oh well, that’s what we’re using). I took the professor’s melody (which he came up with seemingly on the spot using the number-based scoring that is popular in Asia) and composed what I thought were some pretty cool chord progressions, but when I heard what the other students had come up with, it was obvious that I need to up my game. I’m also realizing how much I have hitherto neglected the art of percussion in music, something that I really need to brush up on, and listening to the drum parts of many of my favorite pieces has been a revelation. My reluctance in this respect probably comes from years of sitting right in front of the drum section in band; it’s hard to enjoy drums that are constantly banging away inches behind one’s head, and I suppose I just learned to tune it out.

Things will get even busier next week when not only are the Ramblers getting ready for some springtime gigs, our photography course is also starting up. Being so busy with the master’s program coursework, I’ve pretty much been letting my photos pile up on my hard drive. And in any case posting photos online these days feels frivolous in light of the United States’ ongoing self-inflicted implosion into a well-armed tinpot oligarchy, the other world powers jockeying over who will take the place it has abandoned. But art is needed even more in such times, so I will keep making it as best as I can.

At least this long, cold winter shows signs of abating. I’m so very glad that I finally installed heat in the Water Curtain Cave, as this winter has been brutal. The cold just seeps into the bones of these concrete structures and lasts well into spring. But this weekend has been lovely. Yesterday I went with Chenbl and his parents to the Fo-An Temple, located in an alley off of Minzu West Road, where they were celebrating the birthdays of both Ji Gong and the local land god (Ji Gong was apparently ok with moving his birthday to that of the land god because Ji Gong is just cool like that), and the group of devotees there were nice enough to give us some of the bao they’d prepared for the celebration. Afterward we had some tasty pig’s feet for dinner at a place across Minzu Road, as other temple celebrations, including stage dancers and a vast feast, had been set up along the roadside. Occasionally a jet would fly overhead before landing at the nearby Songshan Airport.

This morning I went to tai-chi practice at the park for the first time in a while. I’ve been rather lax about going in recent months due to other obligations, weather, and, to keep it a buck, just wanting to sleep in on Sunday mornings. But I nearly always feel better after tai-chi practice, and it was nice to go through the empty-handed form as well as the sword form a couple of times. As it happened, a bunch of tai-chi elders were having a get-together lunch nearby, so quite a few of them came by to say hi to Little Qin, who is now the leader of our group. They ranged in age from 70 on up to over 100. “I was practicing here in the park ages ago,” one of them told me. “When did you start? I’ve seen you around here for at least 20 years.”

“I first came to watch tai-chi here in the summer of 1989,” I said. He just laughed and called me a newbie, which…fair, as he was here in the 1940’s. One of old guys wanted to practice push-hands with me, which I did with some hesitation, not just because I hadn’t practiced in a while, but also because damn this guy was old. He probably could have sent me flying, but still.

After practice and our usually discussions about politics, history and culture, I bade Little Qin and the others adieu and walked towards the North Gate to see if Kyomachi No. 8, a nifty jazz cafe with the nice music and tasty quiche to be enjoyed with the view to historic buildings on both sides, was open as Google Maps intimated. Alas, it was not, so I had brunch nearby before returning home.

Now it’s time to knuckle down on this homework.

On Thursday I attended the final class of my first semester of Chung Yuan University’s Master’s Degree program in music production. All my tests are done, all my projects completed. I was expecting a challenge, and I certainly got it, but it went more smoothly than I thought it might, mostly thanks to the support and understanding of the faculty and staff there. Since September I have spent three days a week riding trains back and forth between Taipei and Zhongli (made financially feasible thanks to the excellent monthly NT$1200 T-pass system), in addition to my day jobs, music gigs, and teaching photography courses at Shih Hsin University and Zhong Zheng Community College.

It was a rather exhausting schedule (not helped by an annoying cold that lasted a couple of weeks at the end of the year), and I’m looking forward to a break before the spring semester begins in February. But just being a student again, actually attending classes on campus and participating in discussions and projects, felt extraordinarily rewarding and brought a different level of connection with younger people than I usually hang out with as well being able to take advantage of my professors’ knowledge and experience. In the college days of my youth I might have been hesitant to ask questions in class, but these days I have no such qualms. I sit in the font row, ask any dumb thing that comes to mind, and just enjoying learning stuff I had no idea about before. I had classes in music production, basic recording, a lecture series, video production, classical music appreciation, and a fun elective about UK Culture as seen through a Taiwanese viewpoint. Our program even provides a nice room on campus where we can hang out, work on projects or just chill while looking at the view outside. I’ve been using a tiny Korg MIDI keyboard and a cheap Audio-Technica USB mic to make music for class so far using free versions of software like Pro Tools and Cubase, but I suspect I’m going to need some more serious equipment for more advanced projects going forward.

Hopefully next semester I will be able to get the lion’s share of my required credits out of the way so I can concentrate on my graduate thesis for the second year of the program, but I always enjoy being on the campus; it’s a pleasant, attractive place with restaurants and cafes, concert halls and just a cool vibe in general. Chenbl’s father was one of the first students there after it opened in 1955 (the same year as Tunghai University, as it happens), and his brother-in-law went there as well. I haven’t had time to properly explore Zhongli or any of the stops on the way there, but I might do some walks over the break, weather permitting.

One thing I haven’t done a lot of lately is blogging; I think using Substack put me in the mind frame that I needed to have a proper topic in order to write entries, whereas in the past I would just write about random thoughts or how my day went and throw it all up onto my blog. And might have been a mistake…hardly anyone reads these things, regardless of whether or not they’re on Substack or my site, so why should I care about “brand building” or topicality? None of that matters. I’ve never been an influencer or relied on any of that anyway. But I have a YouTube channel, so I might as well use it.

It’s been a full 20 years since 2005, and obviously a lot has changed. I’d been blogging for four years at that point, had just joined the Muddy Basin Ramblers the year before, and was busy filming our feature film which would eventually be titled the Kiss of Lady X. George W. Bush was president in the U.S., and Chen Shui-bian was president here; Taipei 101 had just opened and I was working at the GIO. Having moved from downtown out to Xindian a couple years prior, I bought my current apartment, aka the Water Curtain Cave, at the end of the year following an excruciating house search and a stint at the neighboring Lofty Sky Palace; now I’m close to finally paying off the mortgage. I signed up for YouTube in 2005, and also Flickr, where I’ve since posted 15,000 photos over the last 20 years, an average of posting two photos a day, every day, since I joined.

So now, as we begin 2025, this year of the world trying to come to grips with the U.S.’s recent Plutocracy Reveal Party as well as deepening commitments to willful ignorance and fascism in general, perhaps it’s time to shake things up a little. Write more random posts. Make street videos. Try not to skip so many tai-chi sessions because it’s cold and I just don’t wanna. Perhaps even take a trip somewhere; I haven’t had a proper trip abroad since 2020, and the world ain’t hanging around waiting.

Last Saturday night, the Muddy Basin Ramblers played our last-ever show at Bobwundaye, which is closing its doors for good at the end of the month as the entire block is going to be torn down. The Ramblers have a long history at Bob’s, as we call it. In fact I first played with them, informally before officially joining the band, at the previous iteration of Bob’s about a block away. Three of my very early photos still hang on the walls among the murals and posters from shows over the decades. I Ubered into town with Cristina and Zach to find the place already filling up; I saw some familiar faces and chatted a bit before the soundcheck. The murals along the orange walls exuded melancholia; we all knew it would be the last time we played there. A small film crew consisting of two people was going around with a Sony camera and boom mic interviewing various people about how they felt.

The show itself, a retelling in celebration of the 10-year anniversary of our second album (and first Grammy nomination), Formosa Medicine Show, started slow but quickly gained momentum as the audience dug into the vibe. And after two sets on that tiny, crowded staged, everyone jostling each other to get to our various instruments between songs, the show concluded in several raucous encores and exultant applause. I spent the time in between sets sitting on the curb outside, away from all the chatting, drinking people, just staring at the lights of the evening traffic and enjoying the cooler weather. After the show I had a few conversations, some good and some downright bizarre, before catching a cab back to the Water Curtain Cave to sleep. Hard to believe it’s been nearly 20 years of doing this kind of thing.

Sunday morning I woke up to a flurry of discord messages asking if I was down to do the VR improv comedy show I’ve been involved in for the past few months. But no, I was not down; I wanted -no, needed- to go to the park to get some tai-chi practice in. Yes, dear readers, perhaps even those who remember my Monkey Learns to Push blog of yore, I am back at it after a long, mostly Covidian-inspired hiatus filled with intermittent indoor VR-game-driven aerobic exercise and the occasion jaunt up the hill out back. To be honest, aside from the health benefits of practicing tai-chi, I missed hanging out with the fellas in our group at the park. Though Teacher X has long retired from teaching, Little Qin, who studied along with Teacher X back in the day, is still instructing. As such, Little Qin is technically my 師叔, but his style is different from that of Teacher X. In any case, just showing up is an accomplishment for me, and going through the sword form and the empty handed form felt really, really good after all this time, even though I’ve forgotten most of them. Push-hands too, with the delivery guy and a newer student who didn’t know me. It was…ok, though I am really rusty and inflexible after so long away from it. I just need to keep it up. Alas, I am unable to continue my old tradition of going to Gongguan for delicious Lebanese pitas afterwards, as my beloved Sababa closed years ago.

Speaking of returning to things: I’m also teaching photography again, this time at Shihsin University, just for this semester as a guest lecturer, although I might be open to a more permanent arrangement in the future. In any case, teaching university students is…different, I have to say. Previously when teaching at the community college, pretty much everyone in the class wanted to be there (except possibly the sullen band of Influencers who showed up that one semester fishing for Likes and Follows), but, while many of these students, all of them seniors, seem inspired by photography and work to improve their skills, a few seem to be more interested in what they see as an easy credit before graduating. Still, the ones who are interested are quick learners, picking it up faster than most of the community college students did, and that’s just using mobile phone cameras. There will be an exhibition at the end of the semester at the end of the year, and some kind of related event. It will be interesting to see where all of this goes.

So I performed on two very different stages this last weekend.

Hauling my instruments across the bridge in the wind and rain to Chez Paradise wasn’t pleasant, but we had to practice at least once before we headed down to Longtan to play a show in the large covered square in front of Longyuan Temple. Practice? you say incredulously. Yes, dear reader, although we usually wouldn’t need to go to such extremes, the Ramblers were down three players this game, as Cristina, Zach and Thumper were all off in distant lands, frolicking with familial folks and whatnot. We called upon the Auxiliary Rambler Forces, namely Sylvain and Hu Chun, who have come to our aid several times in the past, to fill in. But we needed to practice. I’d thought I was running late, but it turned out that I was the first to arrive (after David, who is house-sitting at Le Chez). Slim was under the weather and didn’t appear for another couple of hours, but he was looking sharp (if tired) when he did.

Our driver Mr. Gao, top-knot well-coifed as usual, met us in the alley; we packed into his van and headed down the jam-packed highway. Soundcheck was at 4:30, and we were met in front of the temple by Chenbl’s “Little Aunt” (his mother’s youngest sister), who is herself a famous street singer in Longtan. Her nickname is Xiao Long Nu (小龍女), known for her melodious singing voice. Everyone remarked at the family resemblance, not just in looks but in singing voice; Chenbl also loves to sing and is quite good as well…his aunt told us, “Chenbl was always singing Teresa Teng songs as a kid!” which is eminently believable. David, being the coffee aficionado that he is, had sniffed out the best coffee stand at the street market in front of the temple, so I joined him in sampling tasty some ice coffee, along with a cinnamon bun from a neighboring stall.

We went through soundcheck for all our instruments; I had clip-on mics for my trumpet and baritone, and the bass mic was booming nicely. We had to wrap up quickly as the gods, upon their palanquins and accompanied by lion dancers and various high-level officials, were returning, their imminent arrival heralded by the usual fury of fireworks. We had some time before the show, so I threw caution to the winds and left my umbrella in the temple green room, setting out for a stroll up the street and around the eponymous lake of Longtan where people were paying to take dragon boat rides across the water under the big white bridge.  I took a detour through a covered side market when it started raining again, by an old camera shop whose window contained the same camera that we had when I was growing up, an Argus Seventy-Five. It was the first camera I ever knew, and one which I was always walking around the house with, looking down through the glass viewfinder. When I got around to researching it, I found that it was actually not that great a camera, but I had fun with it before I got my own camera (a Pentax K1000) when I was 15.

Our show was supposed to start at 8:30, but the stage was full of Very Important Politicians/lion dancers, so we didn’t get on stage until a little later, and our show was cut so short I didn’t even play the baritone, and the trumpet for just one song (At least they didn’t cut our pay). Chenbl’s aunt sat in the front-row section reserved for Very Important People (“Everyone here knows me,” she said, and I believe her), making videos and taking selfies with us in the background, and the crowd seemed to really enjoy the music. And while we were still the Muddy Basin Ramblers, it was a rather different experience minus the missing members…softer, less raucous. Not worse, just different. Sylvain and Hu Chun played wonderfully, of course, but you can’t replace saxophone and violin with guitar and mandolin and expect the same sound.

Mr. Gao whisked us back to Xindian much more quickly after traffic had died down in the late evening, though it was still raining. I hauled my gear back to the Water Curtain Cave and went straight to bed. It had been quite a day.

Then I woke up on Sunday morning and wondered if the comedy show was going down.

Allow me to provide a little background: A couple of weeks ago I saw a post on one of the VR groups I belong to, inviting people to attend a VR recreation of the famous improv comedy show “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” called, imaginatively and no doubt for copyright reasons, “Whose Turn Is It Anyhow?” I’ve long been a fan of the show, so last Sunday morning I showed up at the space in Meta Horizon Worlds, and while talking with the organizers, was invited on stage to participate. I demurred at first, wanting to see exactly what they were doing, and although some of the younger participants had, uh, questionable taste in their choice of jokes, it was actually an interesting experiment. So when they asked me again if I wanted to go on stage, I said ok.

And I gotta say, it was a blast. They organized mostly the same games as the show, with four players on stage, and while there were some technical issues, it went pretty well. I had to really think about what I was going to say, but also react quickly. The organizers and the audience both seemed to like what I was doing and invited me back. I said we’ll see.

So, back to Sunday morning, just out of bed after a long day in Longtan, drinking coffee to revive and recover: I thought, I need to take it easy today, but…what the hell, let’s see what they’re doing. I went back to the space, inviting my friend Sean, who also grew up in Florida, and immediately felt a little foolish when we arrived as the place was empty. “I guess they’re not doing it?” I said, disappointed, thinking, but it had been such a good idea.

Then a bunch of avatars popped in and waved to us. “You’re in the wrong instance! We’re at the new space!” Oh, ok. We ported to the new space, and it was full of people. I was curious to see if the first time had been a fluke, but no; I spent the next couple of hours on stage doing improv with the other three players, and again, it was SO much fun. We did the alphabet game, the bachelor game, and Questions Only, where I was a little too good, leaving my partner stranded on the sidelines for nearly the entire time (That was rude of me btw; I will try not to do that in the future). The organizers had wanted to do Props, but the mechanics were wonky so they held off on that one, which is a shame as that’s one of my favorite Whose Line games. One of the player’s native language wasn’t English, but despite being out of the loop regarding certain cultural references, she did a great job. The room stayed maxxed out (which isn’t saying a whole lot as the Meta Horizon rooms are only able to hold 30-something people), but someone was streaming it on Tik Tok, so there was that.  The jokes definitely got more than a little risqué, and I’m sure that the Meta staff were “observing” the space, but at no point did anyone get out of hand or disrespectful. Horizons is the best place for that kind of thing, due to the fact that the Meta avatars are better and more animated than avatars in other spaces (so far…we’ll see what happens when Apple really gets into the game; their first attempt at a headset, the Vision Pro is already amazing in so many ways, not least of all price). The way my mind works, I have been thinking of better versions of what I said on stage, which is a little concerning, but then again, probably better to be fixated on that than my usual array of anxieties.

People have told me they could never get on stage in front of people, and I get it. Slim, as animated as he usually is on the stage, is always muttering “Heebie jeebies!” before shows, even though we’ve been doing this kind of thing for literally decades. I don’t really get that nervous in either case, but it was interesting to compare the two experiences. I actually felt more exposed on the VR comedy stage than I did on the real life musical stage. Perhaps that is because I’m used to playing music on stage and more or less know what I’m doing, whereas I’d never actually done improv before this. There are also many common elements between the two, e.g. reacting to other players, coming up with new lines, responding to the audience, timing, volume, tone, etc. Both leave me feeling emotionally drained and high at the same time, weirdly.

Perhaps in the future, as more of our lives move towards online experiences, and virtual and actual worlds meld into each other with MR and AR development, the whole concept of “being on stage” will evolve into something entirely different than how we think of it now. Certainly with the disappearance of “mainstream” media as the defining factor in what and whom we chose to engage with, the way we move socially in any space is being redefined.

There is of course the potential for all of this to devolve into a massive dumpster fire, but then again it might actually bring people closer together. In any case, it should be interesting to see where all of this goes.

Summer is making a grudging entrance, with sporadic heat and rain typical of spring here. I recently bit the bullet and bought a new air conditioning system, one that is not only far quieter and more efficient than my last unit (which, following some negotiation, came with the apartment when I bought it 18 years ago), but also includes a heating function so I don’t have to rely on a leaky oil heater in the winter. Looking forward to having a nice toasty warm apartment on those cold rainy days. The government also provides subsidies for upgrading to more efficient units, which takes some of the punch out of the (still substantial) price tag, which includes not only the units but the installation. The workmen who installed the unit were efficient and professional, and my place only smelled like betelnut for a few days afterward.

The article I recently wrote and photographed for Standart Magazine concerning Taiwan’s coffee culture has been published. They got in touch with me at kind of the last minute, so for a couple of weeks I spent every day going to various cafes, roasters, bean sellers, etc., talking to them and taking photos and generally learning a lot about the development of coffee in Taiwan and how it seems to parallel our democratic development, which makes sense if you consider the era of relative increase in democratic discourse that followed the advent of coffeehouses in other places. Chenbl and I traveled down to Taichung to visit a coffee expert, then renting a car to drive up into the mountains to visit a coffee farm, which was a nice change of pace. The staff at Standart, which is a European publication, were great to work with, and it was nice to have a “mission” so to speak. You can see some of the work I made during that time here.

In other news, Maciej Dakowicz recently held one of his photography workshops in Taipei. Maciej and I first met at a Burn My Eye exhibition opening at a festival in London back in 2012, and we’ve kept in touch over the years. He messaged me about shooting in Taipei as the last time he’d been here was way back in 2003; obviously a lot has changed, and I gave him a few suggestions. When the group arrived Chenbl and I took them over to Snake Alley for dinner at Wang’s Broth, and I met up with them on their subsequent excursions in Taipei and Keelung. As I observed their process, it occurred to me that how I go about engaging in my photography is quite different from most people. Then again, a workshop is not most people’s normal interaction with photography; it is deliberately more intense and action-packed, with set goals and the pressure of producing a certain amount of work. Still, they seemed surprised that I pretty much always have a camera on my shoulder and another in my bag, no matter what I’m doing. For me, unless I’m on assignment, I just go about my life and photos just kind of happen. Tagging along with their group, I felt a bit like a slacker, only taking photos I happened to see while they strode purposefully down the street, cameras held at the ready in front of them, their eager gaze hunting for targets with each step. The group certainly had talent; Maciej had showed me their Instagram feeds beforehand and they’d made some very nice work. Most, it seemed, were returning students, and after witnessing the ease and synergy in the group I could understand why.

After a week, though, the workshop was over, and they had to leave. It was nice getting to know them, and I always enjoy seeing my home through the fresh eyes of visitors. Some of the students said I should hold more international photography workshops here…it’s worth considering.

In other other news, the Ramblers played a gig last weekend at the Spring Wave music festival at a “glamping” complex in Taichung. Glamping is apparently short for glamorous camping, with luxury tents and food trucks and nice showers; the adjacent fields were covered with individual tents, and rows of food stalls lines the path between the four stages. The audience was mostly fairly affluent young people, and our show went pretty well. Little Scarlett collected quite a few interesting rocks. We’ve also been working on our latest album, recording at Cristina and Zach’s house before proceeding to an actual studio next week. Last weekend I recorded four different songs on four different instruments: trumpet, euphonium, tuba and bass; it was a very long weekend, needless to say. But the songs David’s chosen for this album are real top-tapping earworms; going back to our roots, so to speak. It should be a good one.

I get earworms sometimes. They seem more common in this Spotify-driven era, or perhaps it’s just brain chemistry. Regardless, like most people with earworm tendencies, I have a method of removing them. Some people swear by the “By Mennen” jingle as a definitive way to end the constant cycle. I’ve found that putting the opening to one of the many versions of the authorless renaissance tune La Folia on the record player in my head, I could reset my mental song palate, to mix a few metaphors.

One night as I was attempting to get a certain song out of my head (probably something like Lil Nas X as that man can make a catchy tune), I put on La Folia, but somehow in my mind it morphed into the 1955 recording of George’s Dilemma by trumpet legend Clifford Brown. I tried to wrest it back, but even though one is in D and the other in C# minor, the two overlaid each other until I realized that one of the reasons I love George’s Dilemma so much is that is seems to follow closely the chord progression of La Folia. When I looked up the roots of the song, Caribbean roots are mentioned, but not La Folia. I suppose the two are not exclusive, as La Folia is such an old tune that has been incorporated into many other forms of music.

I’ve always loved La Folia and often wondered if one could do a true jazz version that would lend itself to an improvisational style. Brown’s composition seems to be just that, and you can tell from his solo, which pounces on the notes that are at once the least expected and the most satisfying. Harold Land follows with a rather standard sax solo that does the job but doesn’t explore out the possibilities of the tune. Then Richie Powell constructs a delightfully exotic and evocative piano solo before the instruments come back in for the ending, which is a reprise of the beginning, all underlied by George Morrow’s bassline and Max Roach’s percussion. I would have loved to have heard another sax player take on that piece, Coltrane or even Parker, who died the year the song was recorded. Sometimes I take out my horn and try to follow Brown through the song, getting little hits of satisfaction on the few bits I can keep up with, but it’s a difficult key for trumpet, and all I can say is that Brown must have loved the workout his fingers got from it.

I’d still be interested in hearing more jazz adaptations of La Folia, particularly as I can imagine renaissance musicians in some small Spanish village getting together, eating, drinking, smoking and jamming to it all night, resulting in the tune becoming stuck firmly in their ears the next day.

A week or so ago I watched a movie in a theater for the first time in literally years. Chenbl had a couple of free tickets, so after work I met up with him for a lunch of questionable quality at the chicken place next to the previous location of the Vie Show Sun theater, which has sadly been torn down. It’s particularly sad because it was an IMAX theater, and now we have to go elsewhere, such as all the way out to the Miramar Cinemas for IMAX movies. Fortunately for us, the free tickets weren’t for the demolished Vie Show, but the Shin Kong theater in the old Lion Plaza building, that golden monstrosity on the corner of Xining and Wuchang Roads. The escalators up past the first few floors of little shops weren’t working, so we took the small, blue-lit elevator up to the completely empty lobby. The theater was big enough, but the projection and sound weren’t great. The movie was Spider-man: No Way Home, which was…fine. I mean, it was fun and entertaining, and the extended cameos were fun (though sadly missing my favorite version of Spider-man), but it became more about them than about the current Spidey’s character arc, which really only the first Tom Holland movie explored to any degree. I enjoyed the nostalgia, just as I also enjoyed The Matrix: Resurrections and Ghostbusters: Afterlife (Encanto is the best movie I’ve seen so far this year, though). But the whole time I was thinking: I’d rather be watching this at home. Note: I do not have a terribly big-screen TV, just a 16-year-old 37″ 720P set that cost a pretty penny in 2006 but now just emits static in one speaker whenever I watch Star Trek due to the ship’s engine rumble, so I tend to watch things on my iMac. But the point remains: I wonder if the age of theaters is on the wane, due to be something only old people remember.

My views on the future of theaters and public gatherings in general are perhaps biased by the steadily growing number of Omicron cases pouring in from everywhere but mostly the U.S. Americans seem to have just given up on any preventative measures and are just watching case numbers explode. Some Americans in Taiwan, well, white dudes in particular, it seems, think that Taiwan should just roll with it as well, pooh-poohing any attempt at controlling spread of the disease. But I’ve noticed an interesting, or perhaps obvious correlation: The expats who feel the most entitled to a consequence-free lifestyle here are the ones who rail the most against any kind of COVID-based regulations. “I can’t take another months-long lockdown!” I heard one such dude say, apparently unaware that we’ve never had a real lockdown, let alone one that lasted months. Most people just go along with it, but to him, it’s an egregious affront to the “freedom” to which he feels entitled.

Fortunately Omicron has yet to overwhelm our system, though it’s being sorely tested as so many incoming passengers have it these days. It has inspired more people to get vaccinated, though, and the government has changed the previous 5-month time between 2nd and 3rd shots to 12 weeks, meaning I can likely get a booster next month. Older people seem to be the holdouts, for the most part. It remains to be seen how the government and the CDC will alter their protocols to deal with the nature of this latest wave. We’ve scheduled the photography course to resume next semester, but we’ll have to see how things develop and where we are by March. One thing that helps immensely in planning photo-related excursions is the partial return of Google Maps’ 3D capability; this is wonderful for getting a feel for an area before actually going out to the area in question, I’m glad it’s back and I hope it is expanded more around Taiwan in the future.

I took advantage of the pre-Omicron state of affairs to finally meet up in person with Alexander Synaptic of Spectral Codex last week at a cafe in Xindian’s Dapinglin. I have long appreciated the wealth of information encapsulated in Xander’s online exploration pieces, and he has helped me out a lot with website advice, but we had never actually met IRL. He showed me an old map that showed that my old army base used to be an even older Japanese landing strip, which explains how the area “Big Flat Top” might have gotten its name in the first place.

In other news, I’ve been asked to perform in an ensemble paying tribute to the late Louis Armstrong’s Hot Five group. This is both an honor and a challenge, as I consider Satchmo to be the GOAT. I will need to put in some real work to get ready for that level of syncopation, range and just cool-ass 20’s jazz. Again, nobody knows where we’ll be by March; we’ll just have to see.