ok, i lied: more pics

yeah. might as well get the rest out here.

bathrooms


english teacher office


erin's office


erin's room


erin's sweet ride


living quarters


oh-so-comfy bed


plate face


primary class


primary class


primary class


primary class


primary english posse


the primary mob


peter


south central china


wee one

phew again.

last batch of toast pics for the day

these are the last of the pics he's sent me. well, actually, there are some more, from a while back, but i dont think i'll get them up today.

these are sort of miscellaneous. maybe toast will comment and add more info.

erin


video game


people


back alley market


bike chap


dancing hordes
(this probably should have been with the reeb pics)


love skirt


marching


open air billiards


park 1


park 2


park 3


park 4


park 5


park 6


park 7

so yeah. i hope i didn't repeat any.

November 29th: hunger is the greatest alarm clock

Day 73

My stomach woke me at 6:30, so I got bean paste rolls and chive rolls. Hunger is the greatest alarm clock.

I blogged for a bit, passed out for a while watching BBC, then decided to get out in the sunshine, however smoke-obscured it was. I rode to Dongzhou Park, (no more phonetical spelling) and sat at the edge of the pond, read "Absalom, Absalom." I moved locations to try and get warmer, more sun, and wrote down some rhymes, cracked myself up. People didn't bug me this time. One guy yelled hello from across the pond but that was it. Maybe I'm becoming a fixture there. I'll be part of a tour: "on your left, giraffe statues, on your right, American with book, his face is hairy like dog."

Next, I pedaled around trying to find the middle school, perhaps do some inquiries on behalf of Rhys. I couldn't find it.

I rode to a few different accessories stores, keeping an eye out for winter hats and earmuffs for Erin, buttons for my people in Cinci. On the way back, I stopped by a sundries store at the "Haimen Normal School Aptached (sic) to Middle School." I woke the clerk who was having a siesta in her "narco-lounger" so I felt compelled to buy something. I picked up some "happy roll-esque" bisquits for Erin.

Ate dinner, played piano. That little kid tried to use the old "go, go" routine on me again, but I said to him, "Oh you are going? I stay. I play piano," and shut the door. Rose has my back, so now I'm brazen.

I tried in vain to log onto msn (it's having issues right now), watched a show called Kath and Kim on Asia Pacific, called it a night.

still more old pics from the toast

here are the acrobat pictures.

kung fu


more kung fu


contort


yes, more contortion


midget on nails


he's still on nails


yep, you guessed it.


acrobats


other midget

more old pics from the toast

trying to get through the backlog. here are the watermelo'lantern photos.

pumpkin lasses


melon carvin'


erin's jacko


watermelo'lantern


jacko's lit up

phew. there you go.

November 28th: hibernator milestone

Day 72

Woke at 1:30. Finally cracked that noon barrier, and how. Had coffee, blogged, ate a roll, showered, played piano, had dinner, played more piano.

Nigel came in at one point still casting ambivalence over the Christmas program, (so now it's 3 songs?) and I had to show him that you could indeed find lyrics to any song via the wonderful internet.

Blogged some more, uploaded pics, drank the rest of my wine, chatted with Rhys, a potential addition to the western contingent of Haimen teachers. He's applying at Dongzhou Middle School and may be here in a fortnight. (Apparently, by using search words like "haimen" and "teach" he stumbled upon my blog.) He asked assurance of his job's validity, and I explained that the Chinese conduct their affairs by a "seat-of-the-trousers" modus operandi and that "concrete assurances" were a luxury suffered by Anglo-Saxons. Somehow I put his mind at ease. I look forward to meeting him as I sense a "Withnail & I" camaraderie with this bloke.

Went to sleep after punishing a half dozen calcium biscuits.

November 27th: MC Barton Fink

Day 71

Even on days off, the ability to sleep beyond 12 escapes me. How do I teach myself to be a better hibernator?

Erin and I had more of the cake, blogged, then pedaled out to browse for winter hats and wine.

We stopped by the electronics chap to see if he had some sort of recording device for my songs. I explained to Erin that I felt musically constipated and had to get these songs out of me in some form. He had microphones and tape players, but no recording capabilities. I browsed and he gave me some steamed chestnuts. I love this store.

Erin was next door buying buttons and barettes. I bought four more buttons for Sara Jett. This store was made for her.

Next, we headed to the accessories store (the one where the girl drew a map to the other club for us) I found a brown beanie that would have been good had it not had a peace symbol and safety pins on it (China's attempt at a Hot topic item). I almost bought a pink scarf with a plush anthropomorphic hamburger on it, but it was a little stained and torn, like it had just escaped the thrift store.

After getting wine, we headed back, very hungry. I played piano for a bit to kill time, then gorged myself on the evening meal.

I finished the short story out of a concept that has been floating in my head the last couple months. I'm very pleased with it. Drank some wine to celebrate (like Barton Fink: "I'm a writer celebrating the completion of something beautiful!"), played piano some more, but was kicked out at 9:30 by two friendly ladies I'd not met before.

I decided to go to the club, since I told Alen last time I would be there Saturday. Erin waffled because of the cold and eventually stayed behind. I rode out and it was not as cold as the hallway advertised. The hallway is like a mausoleum, cold white tiles and exaggerates the cold.

I got to the club, removed my thermal shirt, got on the mic, and then the floorshow started. Alen took me to a table to the left of stage and I was introduced to Sean, Snow and Nancy (English names I gave them, based on the similarity of sound).

Nancy, Snow, and Sean


Alen and Nancy


Snow, Sean, and the Toast

We drank Carlsberg beer (I said never again Reeb and I mean to honor that) It was Nancy's 20th birthday and we toasted a lot to that. Her friend had a Mercedes symbol he was playing with and I tried to explain that he needed to floss it on a fat chain, but mostly he just smiled.

old skool

It's difficult to congratulate someone on their old skool sensibilities when they don't speak your language, let alone slang.

I was taken to another table and introduced to Alen's stylist. Alen chatted up my DJ and MC skills, the only part of the conversation I caught. When the music resumed, I was encouraged to be the MC again and I took my place on the big monitor on the front left of the dance floor, worked the crowd.

"Make some noise! C'mon! C'mon! Pump up the volume! Are we partyin', Haimen?" Stuff like that.

A girl from the floorshow who was scantily clad was instructed by Alen to come up and dance with me. No objections here. She made a motion for me to take my shirt off at one point. I wasn't sure about that. According to Linda, the owner didn't like me, here I was rubbing asses with the talent and shouting weird American slogans over his expensive sound system. Shedding my shirt might be one liberty too far. I didn't want to get "brackbarred from the crub."

There was no party afterwards and the girl I had been dancing with disappeared. I at least wanted to know her name, thank her. Oh well.

Slept a little too well.

beard progress

loads of reeb and related pics from aaron.

so, i'm way backlogged on these pics aaron keeps sending me, so here are a bunch. these re mix of his reeb nights and maybe some extra bar pics by accident.

alen and sisi

alen and the real mc pitman

andy n aaron

andy n erin

dude, alen, erin

erin bein' american

erin, sisi, alen

kelly and chris

kelly and chris

linda's friend, linda, toast

reeb make middle man get tattoo

...of mao!

reeb make strong happen

reeb make stupid happen

reeb makes stupid happen a lot

me n alen

me n linda, product placement

reeb1

reeb2

reeb3

ok more later.

November 26th: wine, cake and midnight hotel mischief

Day 70

Woke feeling burned out a little, but I made it through. Between showing coins, doing turkeys and going over WC items, the 40 minutes still seemed to drag. Today was an early Friday, which means the kids start at 1 instead of 1:40, so they can leave for the weekend.

I played piano for a long time, my voice in top form. I'm trying to practice to the extent where everything is second nature. I'm still having trouble with the bridge of Novelty Rush (Bail Out) (the ragtime operetta), that lefthanded part is some tricky stuff.

Started writing a short story, which, upon completion will be posted at myspace.com, the lino page.

Erin and I bundled up for dinner, for the dining hall was crazy cold, and they had two sets of doors open. I shut one set, since the junior 1 kids were gone, the lesser volume of eaters didn't warrant the unnecessary cold. The ladies laughed at me.

After din, I pedaled to the supermarket for cake, wine and other business. Once there, I pointed at the cake I wanted, but they didn't give it to me. I had to wait while they made another one the same size, but not necessarily the same style. I watched the dude work his icing magic, rotating the cake on a spinning disc, applying, scraping, sculpting, piping little flowerettes. All of it too elaborate for our purposes. I rode back with the cakebox vertical in my basket, hoping it was as secure as it felt.

I dispersed Erin's wares and revealed the cake, which had shifted and the "happy birthday" was smeared beyond legibility, which is fine since it's a T-giving occasion of sorts.

the cake

We drank wine, played cards, ate cake, laughed about stuff.

When midnight rolled around, we were both hungry, having gotten onto the subject of burritos. We rode to the hotel, Erin on the back of my bike, laughing about Mr. Show ("sports bra, electric sports bra..."). We ordered our usual, but Erin's came out as a fruit pizza instead of veggie, my meat sauce pizza had no meat and far too much onion (perhaps to compensate?) Mine took so long I didn't even really want it anymore, and it was cold. We made a mental note to not eat at the hotel after midnight anymore.

We rode back in the cold, bellies full of pizza and Tsingtao. We relished the thought of sleeping in as long as possible.

November 25th: of beds and madness

Day 69

My bed is dangerously cozy. I don't have an alarm clock and I've been relying on bed discomfort and sun to bring me to wakefulness. So far it's worked, but now that I've raised the quality of sleep, I'm worried about oversleeping and missing my first class. I shall have to pay a visit to the electronics chap this weekend.

I adjusted my classes to include the hand turkey thankfulness since today is Thanksgiving and my Thursday and Friday classes last week didn't happen. One of my classes thought toilet paper was the funniest thing in the universe. When I showed them the coins, they guessed the presidents were "Clinton" or "Bush." One group said "Mr. Willis" was on the penny.

Monkey ate lunch with me, and Pete, Jimmy and Clyde (named so because his horse sweater said it) sat with Erin and I for dinner. I played piano twice, but the second time, the weather had turned damp and they had started burning weeds, so my pipes suffered. The barometer change (and perhaps the holiday so far away from friends and family) pricked me with an amethyst shard of meloncholy. I spoke to Erin about it and she theorized perhaps I was being sympathy-mentsrual for her (she was supposed to start, and despite the pill, appetite, tiredness and tender breasts plagued her.)

Tomorrow we plan on getting an elaborate cake for ourselves, celebrate in some kind of fashion, this holiday in a strange land. Incidentally, this is the second year in a row I've been out of the country for Thanksgiving. Last year, I was in London visiting my friend Fiona and catching a Radiohead show.

At times I feel like Tom Hanks in "Castaway" here, except I've got Darby instead of a volleyball. Occasionally, he'll be in my lap while I type. Sometimes in the morning I will talk to myself as a fake Pakistani roommate who constantly harps on myself to be on time.

Him/Me: "Buddy, get to class buddy."
Me: "I'm leaving! I'm just making some coffee."
Him/Me: "Buddy..."
Me: "I'm going!"
Him/Me: "Ok, fuck you, my friend."

Don't start fitting me for a straightjacket, I'm just staying amused.
Blogged and succumbed to the sweet wiles of bedville.

November 24th: new joys of comfortable slumber

Day 68

Woke around 9am, savoring the delicious new comfort of my bedding. I adjusted my lesson to include more repetition, since Steven told me last week that his kids weren't remembering how to say words from the previous lesson.

After lunch, I took a nap by accident. I've turned the bed into a succubus.

After dinner, a knock at the door. Linda. She was mellow this time, and explained that she was leaving for Beijing in the morning. In order to say goodbye to her (ie, make sure she didn't try to come to the school again) I told her I would meet her at the club at 9:30. She left.

I played piano for about an hour, going through my whole set and briefly reviewing a few Christmas songs. Rose had given me a key, said I was able to play in room 3 on the second floor after lunch. Of course, that time was spent unconscious.

I pedaled to the club and sat with Linda on the balcony, drank Corona and lemon over ice while she played with her phone. At 10:30, I left and she trotted beside me to retrieve her dictionary. At the gate it took the guard forever to find the book which lay in plain sight. This was after prolonged frustrated pointing and shrugging.

I walked her down to the hotel to catch a cab and en route, had to make a WC pit stop behind a construction sign. She laughed at me from the road. I hugged her goodbye, waved, rode off as the cab sped away. Stretched, did Tai Chi, stood on my head a bit, then my bed's siren song called me to its dulcet shores.

Peelander-Z

Holy crap. Peelander-Z was incredible last night! More later, but i thought i'd mention it.

Crazy. Here's a pic from some other show that i stole from the web:

wow.

tired

I think that this whole having 2 jobs thing is starting to catch up with me. I'm so tired that I'm too tired to sleep. That's the worst. I finished creating art and then promply lost it imbetween school and the bus. I wish mum were playing within driving distance or something. And dehydrated potatoes would be good today, but not since it's raining outside. fin.

November 23rd: WC lesson

Day 67

Got Chinese breakfast, and I think I'm done with the sausage rolls. My stomach can't handle them first thing in the morning and there's always a hard unchewable bit that I gag on.

This week's lesson: WC and items contained therein. I have a bag of items from my own bathroom: toothbrush, cotton swab, tweezers, razor, etc. Visual aids help. Focused on pronunciation of R and TH and L.

The second class asked if I had brought money to show them, so half the class was spent showing them coins and pointing out the dazzling features of American currency. I decided to incorporate it into the week's lesson. The apathy crew and their equally bad prequel class angered me. There was one kid who I had to implore four times to put his book away. I yelled for them to stop spinning their book on their finger, to stop dropping coins and such.

When I went to play piano later, I found my voice had been stressed too much for proper rehearsal. Figured out a few Xmas songs, which interestingly use rock chords. (Silent Night: C, F,G) Any one of them can be turned into a crappy punk song.

Dinner was excellent, with 6 of my favorite dishes being offered, so I loaded up. There is a fear that the rest of the week will be subpar since they blew their wad on one dinner.

Chatted with Sophia (my friend from myspace.com who lives 10 hours away) for a while, stretched, did Tai Chi, deep breathing. I had the miraculous insight to fold my existing bedding in half longways, to double the cushioning. Why didn't I think of this a month ago? I am a slow engineer.

New and Impending Developments and Updates

We at the QEG have been very busy lately, and I (Montana) personally apologize for the lack of updates. Some things:

• Tonight is DJ Empirical's guest performance as Oxymoronatron's guest dj. He'll be scratching throughout their set opening for Peelander-Z.
• We at the QEG have gotten ahold of a cd of songs by Lino, an alter-ego of McDeviltoast. We'll be uploading those very soon, definitely by Monday.
• Other general website updates should be coming as well.

The most recent development: Montana Wildhack is no longer an official member of The Haywards. This will allow him to concentrate more on solo work, and help out other QEG members. He will remain the webmaster of the Haywards website.

November 22nd: anonymity cravings and stalker shakings

Day 66

Woke and discovered what Linda had thrown threw my window: a plastic bag with some sort of pasty white foodstuff, which had cracked and splattered a little, and a set of stickers she made at a photo booth which is all the rage here. One had her posing with Garfield equipped with goat horns.

Shortly after making toilet, I heard knocking. Fearing it was Linda, I hesitated. The knocks came again, I opened the door to Nigel. Relief.

"It's only me," he said. "Rose spoke to me..."

Dread as I thought he was going to tell me she said something about Linda...

"...seems you, I and Erin are responsible for making a Christmas skit on December 24th. "
Relief. I would have to learn Christmas songs on the piano again, something I haven't done since pre-piano lesson days. But, if I didn't get the chords exactly right, my audience wouldn't know.
I blogged for a bit, then felt like a caged animal. Being afraid to go out and having bars on the windows will do that. I wanted sunshine on my face, so ultimately I worked up the nerve to ride to Dong Jo park, finish my book. I tried to curl up inside myself, hide from the brutish realities of being an object of much attention. It's harder when you're by yourself. You're more approachable. Being alone could go either way: you may be alone by choice, or you could just happen to be alone, which opens the door for random people to come up and interact. When Erin and I are together, there's no guesswork, we are obviously there hanging out with each other, therefore less approachable. Having sunglasses on and your nose buried in a book is not enough of a hint.

The need to urinate forced my early evacuation from the park. I could neither find, nor had the desire to use, the park's WC (water closet, for those who don't know). I made use of my own facilities, and wandered over to the arts building following a huge wave of kids shouting hello at me. I went into the music office and asked if it was ok to play piano. One teacher and Feng Jao Li were smiling.The eldest was not. Feng Jao Li shook her head, said "Class now."

"Ok." I nodded to them respectfully, "Zai jian." The one lady still didn't smile. I sense she has a problem with me playing there.

I spoke with Erin and apparently last night Linda was knocking on her door and wondow too, which I had no idea was occuring. She had to teach 5 classes today and needed the sleep. I apologized.

After dinner, a knock came on my door. It was Linda. She made a big show of coming in and rubbing her hands together as if it was so cold outside. She kind of barged in, started making herself comfortable. I put on my coat, shook my head, "I have to work."

She pointed at the porch, started heading towards it. I showed her the stickers. "I already got it. Thank you." I put the dictionary in a plastic bag, handed it to her. "I'm sorry, I have to work."

I opened the door, led her out. She immediately started to mope and drag her feet, pull a long face. "Beijing," she said.

"Tomorrow, you go to Beijing?"

She nodded, pouted.

"I'm sorry. You have holiday. I no holiday. I have job. I must work."

I tried to interact with her on the long walk up to the gate, but she was silent. Once outside, I tried to hug her but she shrugged it off, walked off and made a show of dropping the bag with the dictionary in it. I didn't follow her. I grabbed the bag, handed it to the guard.

"This is hers. She (shook my arms in a "no" motion") no in school. She is (I made the crazy gesture)." God, am I thankful for that universal illustrator.

The guard nodded and I hoped he would be on the post all night. I went to play piano and got through two songs before a little boy came in urgently and pointed at the door, saying "Go, go."
I smiled, said "Ok," closed the piano, shut the light, went out. I heard someone in the office, probably the older music teacher. This is going to make learning the songs for Christmas skit difficult if this keeps up.

I watched BBC for a bit, stretched, did some Tai Chi, some deep breathing, stood on my head for a while. I feel like I've been out of touch with yogic matters since I've been here and want to get back into it on a nightly basis.

I slept well, though fears sprang that Linda would appear one last time. She didn't.

November 21st: Reeb fallout and trauma

Day 65

Woke feeling like I needed to be winded like a watch. The gears in my chest, stomach and head felt loose and disjointed. I needed a day of recovery, but first I needed to get Linda home.

I walked her to the gate hoping my students wouldn't see. If I was ultra-conspicuous before, it was multiplied tenfold by walking with a Chinese girl. I tried walking her to the hotel for a taxi, but she insisted on going up the road. Eventually we flagged one down and then I was made to get in, too haggard to decline, running on some kind of apathetic autopilot. Whatever was happening, fine. I just tried to get my head straight and my stomach unknotted.

We went to two banks, then to a book store where she bought a dictionary. I was a scuffing, shrugging mess. She tried to explain where we were going next, made a scissors over head pantomime. "Fine," I yawned.

We went into a salon and I had that head shampoo thing done, the back of my head and sides trimmed. I woozed in the chair, shut my eyes. Afterwards we went to Ming Tien, had company sandwich, french fries and coffee, of which I only finished the coffee. I played a few songs on the piano, left.

As we walked around the corner to the main drag again, a girl on a bike fell and slid under a car. The car kept going forward, experienced a little hesitation on the bike, moved forward again. The girl eyes were slits and she was screaming.The tire was pinching her arm, and it threatened to roll over her head next. I was a second from running over and yanking the guy out of the car when someone nearby did it for me (not the yanking, but stopped him) A large crowd swamped around the activity. I almost threw up. That girl was seconds away from having her life snuffed by a careless motorist.

This new disturbing habit of seeing accidents has made me jumpy on the cycling-around-town front. Before, I had the naive assumption that everyone's carelessness led to a harmonious tuned chaos where the partcipants evaded danger by going with the flow. Now I've seen twice the results of their lack of street rules. I've got that image of a girl under a car tire, poised to continue in my head for all time. Thanks, Haimen.

Linda shopped for different stuff, asked my opinion on things, but all I could do was try not to think of what I had just witnessed. When all that was done, we took a cab back to the school and she followed me in. I asked Erin how to shake her, as I only wanted time to myself now. Erin suggested I tell her I had to work. Briliant.That worked, and she asked about the club. I told her I was not DJing, but I don't know if she understood me.

Erin and I went to the hotel for dinner, had ham and egg sandwich and some Sprite for the old tummy.It helped. I read more Joyce, started to get back into my skin. My gears were wound again.

Back at my room, I blogged, then slept. Around midnight, to my dread, Linda was at the window saying "Dao wei?" over and over again. I could just picture every dorm light coming on, everyone a witness to my movie. I wasn't sure if she was drunk or if she had come back for the dictionary, or if I had inadvertently encouraged a stalker through international niceness. That's me, good intentions, horrible results, like when I hit the retarded girl in the head with the frisbee at the parade (I was just trying to throw it to her, and then my good deed earned me the title of "villain of the day.")

She knocked at my door, went back to the window, then something landed on my porch area and she left. I went back to sleep after ten minutes of nervousness. How the hell did she get past the gate? Sleep was marred by flashback of the girl and the car.

WELCOME TO REALHAMSTER

My favorite quote from Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure: "Modern technology, William."

Realhamster epitomizes that quote perfectly.

November 20th: Reeb redux against better judgment

Day 64

Woke, did laundry, blogged, ate lunch, blogged some more, made a grocery run (wine and bananas for E, coffee and tissues for A).

Night fell and we went to the club. Erin was instructed to keep me sober and not let me on the mic so my voice could recover. She failed both objectives. The girl from Beijing, English name Linda, was there again and gave me a bracelet, of bulky turquoise, red beads and tiny sand dollar donuts. I thanked her evn though it's probably not going to be worn by me again.

Alen and his crew had us sit at a table near the back when the floor show began. The two girls on rollerskates with the strap happened again, and I got video footage of it.

A beer was placed before me and another bottle clinked it in toast. I took a sip, it appeared to be Corona. I turned the bottle and the dreaded Reeb label was there, to my horror. It begins! I announced to Erin, "This night is over."

I took pics of the floorshow girls and a melee erupted to my right, two Chinese girls in a scratchy catfight. The crowd turned their attention to it, but I implored them to maintain their focus on the impressive trapeze stuff before them, even pointing at them and remarking, "Oh my god" to trick them into thinking they'd missed something incredible.

We moved to a balcony room and pitcher of Reeb were brought out. I had a glass, then was bade to go up and MC. Erin picked up my slack. Alen really wanted me to say a lot, so I ran through trite phrases like "Let's go" "Make some noise, Haimen," and "Hell yeah." The more the Reeb kicked in, the more random my phrases got:

"Punch it!.... In the face!...Make it bleed!....Like Holyfield!"

"I'm the guy who yells things while you're trying to dance!"

"Loud noises!"

"Get out of the WC, the party's out here!"

"Turn my headphones up! Turn them shits up! I'm serious, I can't hear nothing out of my left side!"

"Erin Rock is off the schedule for letting me get on the mic! She is fired, Haimen! You don't know what I am talking about!"

It got ridiculous.

Afterwards, it got more ridiculous. We went to restaurant so ghetto the WC was an alley. Alen and I pissed in one darkened corridor while Erin squatted in a another one. Erin was massively Reebed. She knocked four sets of chopsticks on the floor and tried to teach the people at the table the words to the "Fresh Prince of Bel-air" theme song. (Did I mention she was fired?)

One dude, the owner of the club, spat wads of phlegm over his shoulder. Linda wrote in my notebook that he didn't like me. What gives? Another woman from a different party came in to toast us (the Reeb kept coming) and sat next to me. Linda pointed at her, hissed in my ear, "Fuckyou" kinda like "she is fuckyou" if "fuckyou" were a synonym for bad. It made me laugh.

We ate cucumbers and peanuts. We were offered cigarettes, which I declined, but Erin ended up smoking four of them for reasons she's not entirely sure of. The food and MC'ing had sobered me up some and I drank some tea and two bowls of water. I threw on some hip hop for the restaurant's sound system, made frequent trips to the alley WC.

When the night closed, Linda helped Erin walk her bike back as I pedaled slowly ahead. Erin started a hiccuping fit a couple blocks from the school and nearly took a header into the bushes and the filthwater canal below it.

"Reeb is the devil, dude," I said, "You know how you play records backwards and it's suppposed to be satanic? Reeb is beer spelled backwards. It is Satan."

We got the bikes in and Linda went into my place, staggering and such. I tried to explain that it was a school dorm and that wouldn't be kosher. I tried to hold her up, but she slammed like a felled tree. I decided to give her a few moments rest, but then I, too succumbed to the whims of the sandman. She had fallen across the bed like a train track, so I too had to lay myself out crossways. We were kind of like a Lincoln Log sculpture: "Sleepers at Quarter After" or some such nonsense. Uncomfortable.

whoah

yikes! mcdeviltoast inundated me with video and pictures. i'll take care of them tomorrow, as i'm a bit busy right now with cleaning the apartment.

oh, and i am totally excited for this show:

yes. it will be good.

November 19th: nosebleeds and acrobats

Day 63

Woke with all my clothes on, TV on and feeling like a pig shat in my head. Damn you, Reeb!
I wandered over to get lunch, numbly ate rice. Blogged and drank water all day.

Erin and I ate dinner at the hotel, we both got the veggie pizza, to experiment and see if they would come out at the same time and with same ingredients. They did.

Showered, headed to the club. Erin drank wine and said she might meet me there. She didn't.
The floor show was acrobat stuff. One boy balanced himself on a 7 foot unicycle, kicked bowls with a free leg onto his head, stacking about eight of them up there, then a cup, then a spoon. Next, a different boy did a trapeze stunt. After, a whip routine, shearing newspaper into smaller and smaller halves, snuffing candles in a pricket,and ending with neatly clipping a lit cigarette in two from the lips of his cohort.
I gave them the thumbs-up, took their picture, bestowed American coins on them, which caused a row.

I got a small nosebleed from extensive nose blowing, but it subsided quickly. I wouldn't say I enjoy getting nosebleeds, but I savor the after-effects. There's a weird cleansed feeling, a calmness. Perhaps the chaotic energy in me unites in the task of clot-making and then a euphoric round of backslapping congrats is shared with all my cells upon completion. This "oneness" feeling is pleasurable, although I wish it could arrive by some other means, instead of always by nosebleed.

I drank green tea, rapped a bit when Alen finally put on the "Tricky" remix. I tried jumping in before that, but every time I went to begin, the vocals of whatever song would kick in. I rapped some Rhyme Swing Embassy from behind the DJ pulpit. When I first arrived, I had glow bracelets in a plastic bag, and I threw them out into the anxious crowd. I saw one girl up front take hers off with disgust at one point, throw it on the ground. Was it because I was American? Or was it a case of, she didn't want to stand out, like how a crowd of white people at a concert will fizzle out with unison clapping; each person feels uncomfortable as they feel the will of the group switch to "okay, it's done now" and the few that are still left clapping are subject to scornful looks and occasional snickering, even though the snickerers were doing that exact thing moments ago. Perhaps the will of the group decided the bracelets were "uncool."

After the club stopped, I was informed that there was no party. Rose's party would be tomorrow instead. I met a girl from Beijing and I spoke to her for a bit outside the club, though I couldn't figure out why she was there. Her taxi came before I got the answers.

I drank my tea for a bit and observed a crowd gathered around a traffic accident. A car had hit a motorcycle, or perhaps vice versa. One man had a white handkerchief pressed to his forehead, a policeman took pictures of the scene. You'd think it was a murder site the way they were documenting. I wouldn't be surprised if they drew a chalk outline around the motorcycle.
It was evidence that their crazy traffic carelessness can have consequences. I was beginning to feel like I was overreacting to their reckless automotive chicanery. Here was evidence that I was still avoice of reason.

I pedaled home slowly, savoring the night and enjoying sobriety, still buzzing off the post-nosebleed euphoria. Blogged a bit more then slept.

November 18th: the advent and terrible potency of Reeb

Day 62

Slept in, and Erin and I ate lunch at UBC. My company sandwich had some odd potato salad crap on it. Not my favorite.

We shopped for a bit, Erin tried on coats and skirts, I stood and grinned good-naturedly at the gawkers. When we were at the paper shop, an entire school of children went by en route to see something at the cinema. We had to endure ten minutes of neckerchiefed kids shouting hello.

I took Erin to the department store where I got the sweaters and I bought a pair of brown corduroys which they tailored for me on site at no extra charge (take notes, America). I paid for them and was urged to reach into a bucket and pull out a ticket. I did so, and ended up winning a package of three toothbrushes. This is what happens when you let Lazarus and Shoe Carnival mate. They have an illegitimate baby store who is sent to China for boarding school.

While Erin tried on yet more sweaters, I caught a girl talking about me. She distinctly said "May gua hren (something) ni hao" (the American said Ni hao). I looked at her and said "Yes, I did." She put on some purple lip liner and I teased her to Erin, "I totally busted her talking about me. Look, she put on lipstick for me." I need to learn more Chinese.

We got thermals for the winter and I debated for the longest time if they were big enough. Instead of something like M or XL, it said 180/70 or some such. I wanted the size, not the thing's blood pressure! We had drawn a crowd again. The May Gua Show this week: buying thermals.

Erin said, "Ask them."

"Five bucks says they just nod."

I held up the package, pointed at it, pointed at myself, showed how long my arms were, shrugged, raised my eyebrows. They nodded.

"Five bucks."

"I didn't bet," Erin replied.

At another place, Erin tried to haggle and the ladies pointed to a sign on the wall that must have said "none of that haggling business tolerated here you cheap son of a bitch" in Chinese. This is a practice I hope doesn't spread.

Dinner time rolled around and we pedaled around the corner to Ming Tien, saw Andy in there. He translated a veggie-only spaghetti dish for Erin and then asked if I was coming to the club. I told him I would, (although I'm starting to like the other club more.)

I got back, put on my new pants (one of the few I own where I don't have to roll up the cuffs) tried on the thermals to see if they fit, (a little snug at the wrists) drank some wine.

I pedaled out, saw that the hotel was having some grand opening for its bar/KTV. I'll have to check it out sometime. At the club, I started dancing, but lost my zeal. They keep playing the same songs EVERY time. I decided to go to the other one. Once there, I was welcomed behind the decks again. Alen took me up to the bar during the break and we got a pitcher of "Reeb." (Exactly like Duff beer and Fudd beer on the Simpsons) I'd never drunk a palindrome before.

The Chinese way of pitchers is they open two bottles and pour it in (mock draft), hand you two small glasses. You pour, toast to anything and everything, take a big sip or down it all, repeat. It only takes three swallows to drain the tiny glass. This makes you drink faster than you realize.
Two pitchers of Reeb later, I was feeling pretty good. The floor show was song and dance stuff, no kung fu, no midget. I asked about him, "Where's...little guy? (held hand out at his height, gave thumbs up) I like him. He is cool."

Alen started a thing with me where he would ask a genre, ("Club?") and I would try to pull out a track from my cd's that I thought he was asking about. He put the headphones on, would nod or shake his head. If he shook his head, he would play me one of his songs, point at it and say "club" then I would pull out a similar-sounding song from my batch and he would nod. I learned they call IDM "progressive" over here.

I was allowed to rock the mic for a bit and I stood out on the monitors, worked the crowd. Too much Reeb fudged my rapping skills but they don't understand what I say anyway. I forgot a verse of something and just did rhythmic Mike Patton gibberish until I found the words. To my delight, they had the same remix of "Tricky" and I did that up proper.

After the club closed, I took Alen up on his offer to get food. He said "Ming Tien", but kept pointing the other way. I got on the back of my bike and held his shoulders while he pedaled and I cackled in the night air, no idea what was going on.

We went to the "throw a bunch of shit in the hot water" restaurant and were joined by Alen's girl and the floor show folk. More beer was opened (Suntory this time), more toasts, I asked their English names: Sisi (Alen's girl), Jakey, Rose & Jack ("Titanic," they laughed) Ayi & Tiger Sister or May.

I was taken to another table and introduced there to a another Jakey and his sisters, more toasting. I learned he was a Chinese teacher at the middle school where Matt will be working. I tried to tell him this but all I could do was be amused at everything. Then the food arrived. There was a bowl of minnow-looking fish with bloody stumps where the heads should be. They were dumped into the water. One was put into my bowl and I tried to tell them I couldn't hang with bones, drew a cartoon bone with an X through it. A platter of meat was shown to me and it sounded like they said "Dog."

"Whoa. Dog? I'm not trying to eat any dog."

I drew a cartoon dog, very Darby-looking, showed it to them.They laughed, shook their head.

"No no no no. Dug. Dug."

Sisi took my notebook, drew a cartoon duck.

"Oh, duck! Ok. Duck, yes. I eat duck. No dog."

We ate, drank, and they invited me to Rose's party tomorrow night after the club. I pedaled home swerving, thankful I was only a few blocks away. Sleep came at me like a blow from a blackjack.

the last few days: skinny puppy and other stuff.

ugh. work is dumb. good thing they pay me or i'd be out of here.

too busy for lengthy, toast-style blog entries as of late, so i'll just
mention a couple things:

on monday night, i saw one of my top ten bands: skinny puppy. (strictly
speaking, skinny puppy musician cevin key is in the top ten, but SP was
his main outlet for many years, and is once again his main focus, so it's
close enough.) the show was fantastic, though bogart's (the venue) once
again had some trouble with feedback quite a few times. i was not
surprised that some of the digital vocal stuff on the new record wasn't
done live, as that's definitely a production element, not a performance
element.

overall, it was fantastic.

on tuesday night after work i finished videodrome, the dvd of which
i inherited from gabe, who purchased the new, super-fancy dvd edition
recently. i liked it, though i have to point out that Fudgie and Fufu are
assholes for penning their tune of the same name. i couldn't watch more
than a minute or so of the film without singing it in my head.

after videodrome: bowling with gabe and baby kitty. they didnt
tell me what we were doing until we were most of the way there, though, or
i might have refused. all in all, it wasn't so bad, and i actually won
the first game, even going so far as to break 100, which i don't do much
in bowling.

they booted us out at midnight, so i met up with gabe afterwards at his
place for some halo 2.

last night (wednesday), gabe didn't have his usual wednesday night band
practice, so he came over and we ordered pizza and watched some brass
eye, which diane and i had planned on watching last weekend. that
show is effing brilliant. oh, and gabe got pink eye from being in the
bowling alley the previous night. nice.

after ass eye we headed down to the esquire to catch a private
screening of national treasure, the new nicholas cage flick.

the verdict: woof.

apparently, the film had been a touchstone film until it was rated, and
then since it got a PG rating, it went from touchstone to disney. and
boy, was it disney: no one was killed or even shot, and there were no
four-letter words. the film was long (100 min), but flat: despite
near-constant action, there was no flow. the pacing was atrocious, too.

however, despite all those flaws.... it was still horrible. plot holes
and just a general implausibility make this film one of the worst i've
seen since alien vs. predator.

yes, worse than saw.

November 17th: vitamin ladies and water thief

Day 61

Sleep took precedence over Chinese breakfast. At my first class a fly landed in my coffee. First, what are flies doing alive in November, and second, what would compel a fly to enter what is conceptually, the beverage equivalent of a volcano? (tubular cavern with hot killing liquid at the bottom) Perhaps it was a sacrifice, a virgin fly offered to the twin flygods Buzzy and Facewasher, sitting atop their altar of dung in a great brown stinking fly paradise, floating turds instead of clouds, static buzz in lieu of harpmusic, tears of joy in every compound eye.

The next class, (Steven's class) donated a bean paste sesame bun to Mr. Willis's stomach cause and two students went on a coffee run for me. Steven stayed to observe the lesson and translate when applicable but I think mostly he just wanted to join in the good time.

At lunch both Nigel and Rose informed me that because of a sports meeting, there would be no class Thursday or Friday. I get a five day weekend. Huzzah! Erin and I made plans to visit Nantong.

After dinner I made a supermarket run and was endearingly mobbed by the ladies working the "health and vitamin" section. They would bring up boxes nodding, I'd ask what it was, they'd point at the English, I would read it, we'd all laugh. This went on for about 15 minutes.

We spoke as much English and Chinese as we both understood, pantomimed when necessary. A lot of the products boasted of containing turtle and I tried to tell them, "I'm not trying to ingest any turtle." Sure enough,the next box would have turtle, and three species of snake. I shook my head.

One box they brought to me said, "weak physique, feeble."

I said, "Hey, this is for old man.Old man."

I pantomimed walking creakily with a cane, which they all got a kick out of.

"I am young man."

I ran in place and held my arms up in a Hulk Hogan flex. We all laughed. People had started to gather around.

"Ni hao," I waved, "Ni hao! welcome to the maygua (America) show."

A couple of the ladies muttered "maygua show," but I don't think they understood the "show" part of it. I got some multi-vitamins "for young man" and they thrust a box at me with a woman's face on the front. I read the back and it was some skin-helping elixir. They gently patted their cheeks at me.

"Oh yeah? For skin? My skin is bad?" I teased. "This is for girl! I am man!"

They laughed, insisted I take it. They were so adorable, I couldn't decline. How could you say no to a roving gang of sweet Chinese surrogate aunts?

I rode back, gave the skin stuff to Erin, played piano for a good hour, worked on the newer song (which is kind of a 60's pop verse, with a very sad power chorus) No words have leapt to mind, but they'll come in time. I was out of water, so I became the night burgalr again and slipped in through one of the junior 3 offices and made off with a full jug.

After that I decided to go to the hotel for a pizza with meat sauce since neither lunch nor dinner satiated. Erin debated coming with me, but mostly just danced in the hallway, two glasses of wine to the wind. I rode out without her, sat and ordered, began to read my book, which is still heavily into its religious section. Erin appeared moments later, grinning and winded.

It was difficult to explain that now I would have two instead of the one I had indicated before and we did indeed need a menu. A tennis match of "sorrys" played out between Erin and our server.

My pizza didn't have the green olives this time, and Erin's pizza had different ingredients again.The menu must be an abstract guideline for the food you are ordering.

Erin and I discussed books, writing classes in college, Joyce Carol Oates, William Golding, the arrival of her boyfriend in a fortnight, etc, then rode home and crashed like the stock market.

weld not waste lots

Today, is the last day I will ever weld metal together. I'm thinking of having a party. I'm wishing that skinny puppy packed me up with their equipment and took me with them. I have also decided that we are changing july 4th to Fuckin Skinny Puppy Day. so YAY! McDeviltoast, I have not got your package yet, but I'm looking forward to it!

November 16th: Thanksgiving lesson

Day 60

Woke for Chinese breakfast and the lady loaded me up with too much as per usual. However, this time I didn't make myself sick. I told myself it was ok not to finish. Huzzah for self-control and no guilt.

The lesson this week is Thanksgiving. I gave a condensed overview of the history, then vocab of typical dinner fare, then I showed how to draw a turkey by tracing one's hand and entreated them to list four things they are thankful for, one for each finger feather. I put a ban on family, saying I knew they all were thankful for that and I didn't want 30 turkeys to all say "mother, father, sister, computer games." The one class I forgot to say this to, sure enough, had identical answers of the family list rundown.

Some of their thankful answers: KFC, dogs, cats, listen to the music, books, my bed, myself, hand, eyes, coffee, Mr. Willis.

I also brought Darby, since he is my family in China, explained I would be having a big meal with him on Thursday. I also showed photos of friends and got a little choked up doing so. I showed a couple from my birthday and they were amazed it was from this year. "It was summer. Hot. No beard."

The apathy crew was good today, although "Mary" and his cohort were in the WC (bathroom) for the first ten minutes of class.

The stooped-over clear-cutters are burning weeds again, and I'm starting to get congested and coughy. But at least I know the source of my discomfort. When similar symptoms occur in Cincinnati I have no idea what's causing it, only that it's (fill in the month), and I have to ride it out for (fill in time span.) So while I'm somewhat respiratorily oppressed at the moment, I take comfort in knowing when the weed burning stops, so will my bronchial troubles.

I blogged, ate dinner, passed out for a bit in the warm womb of my room. Woke, blogged some more, drank warm water and pretended it was tea, blew my nose ad nauseum, slept.

November 15th: deceptive sunshine and the other midget

Day 59

I woke, delighted to find my sunshine wish granted. After lunch I went on a quest to find deodorant and construction paper. I found the latter. The former does not appear to exist in Haimen. This spells trouble in the coming weeks. The stick I brought with me is getting to the "turning but it's not rising" stage, which will be followed by the "I turned it too much and it fell on the floor" stage. I bought some baby powder as emergency reserve. How can there be four aisles of shampoo (not an exaggeration) and no deodorant?

I found Erin's construction paper a few doors down from the electronic chap. (She's teaching her kids to make hand turkeys this week.) I shopped around for a webcam so I could add a little more humanity to chats. Before committing, I decided to se if my digital camera could be jury-rigged to do it. I researched a way with a certain cable, but for the price I may as well just get a webcam.

Having discharged my errand duties, I pedaled to Dong Jo park to read and bask in the sunshine. It was not as warm as advertised, but it still felt good on my face. I sat on a bench near the pond and attaempted to get lost in Joyce's words. Boats paddled slowly by me to rubberneck and a few passersby actually paused behind me for a minute to look over my shoulder. There's curiosity, then there's just rudeness. They couldn't read it anyway, why not just a casual glance at a safe distance? Why the need to stop their walk and stand behind me uncomfortably like some Chinese JohnWilkes Boothe?

One gent with a plastic bag passed by, sat some distance away, circled back, then brazenly came up on my right front side. He nodded to get my attention and I looked up. "Hello," he said, smiling.

"Hello."

I returned to my book, but my dude kept standing there. I looked up again and he nodded again, smiling. He made a gesture toward the book, then gave a "thumbs up."

"Yes. it's a good book."

I tried to get back to it but my concentration was shattered. I moved on, strolled past the cooing couples and a man taking pictures of two high school girls posed in front of a tree, then a rock pile, then a weeping willow grove.

I wandered aimlessly, exploring hidden pockets of the park. While circling back around a secret chess table, I ran into the smiling plastic bag dude again. "Hello," he said again, as if the veins of this word were packed with the lifeblood of truth and it, being the ultimate cosmic password, so full of answers and harmony was in danger of bursting and the only way to keep it from hemorrhaging a biblical arterial geyser was to say it as often as possible to a bearded American in sunglasses. I know he was just trying to be friendly, but the conversation went as far as it possibly could. What more did he want?

After dinner, I blogged for a bit, tried to play piano, but all the practice rooms were locked. I worked on my lesson plan (Thanksgiving this week) then got stir crazy. As per usual, the students en masse, after classes get out at 9, file into the dorm and collectively relieve their bowels. My bathroom is host to a main sewer pipe and if I forget to keep my bathroom fan on, the stench rolls out with a fury at 9pm. I need incense badly.

I lit a match, decided I could sit and suffocate in the fug, or go out to the club. I opted for the club, but when I started pedaling there, the cold influenced me to try the other club, the closer one.

Once inside, I was amazed at the throng of people packed on the dance floor. No room at all, just a huge bouncing mob spilling over at the exits. The DJs were spinning some house stuff, slower fare than Andy's club, better quality, more of what I spin.

One track was particularly good and at the break, I went up and asked if it was called "Night Train." Their English was limited, but I soon communicated I was a DJ from America, and soon I was behind the soundboard meeting everyone. The main guy was "DJ Alen." I had my CDs in my bag and he encouraged me to put some stuff on. I had no idea how to operate the decks, so I selected a CD, had him throw it on.

I flipped through my album, naming the genres as I pointed: "hip hop, trance, house..." I went into the "green room" and there was a midget warming up for a kung fu routine. I had my picture taken with him. It is my goal to have my pcture taken with every midget in Haimen, a goal I might have already completed. (How can a town this small have more than two?) The kung fu floor show involved a skinny long-haired guy burying one end of a steel pole into his throat, while the midget buried the other end in his gut and the two pushed against each other. Other feats included a bed of nails and the skinny dude stepped on the midget lying on it. Three burly (as burly as Chinese come) gents from the audience were invited to come step on the nail-mattressed midget collectively. All the while, Alen was playing my CDs for their routine and they synced up beautifully, crescendos were uncannily perfect.

Next a couple Matrix-looking gentlemen came out and did kung fu while singing awful pop songs. I got video footage of some of their stuff. Bizarre.

When the dancing started up again, Alen played from my set, calling out a genre, which I would then hand him, indicating the track listing with my hand. It sounded awesome and the crowd really dug it. He said some stuff into the mic about me to the audience, giving props, I suppose. I got some cheers, though they cheer everything at the club. I took a picture of the crowd and one stoic beefhead up front flipped me off, but I can't be sure if it was contempt or if he was trying to "be American" for the camera.

At the end of the night, I took off, despite Alen's invite to get something to eat. I planned on waking for Chinese breakfast, so I thanked himand pedaled off into the night. I was fired up. That was a proper set and someone else did all the beatmatching work. Ha! All I did was rock out and drink Heineken.

Slept smiling.

2004-11-14: things and stuff

bleah. not much yesterday. i made a flyer for dj empirical's upcoming gig with paperback.

click image for big-ass version, or here for widescreen edition

also, i saw the girl with the striking blue eyes at sitwell's again. i went later than usual, so maybe it was a shift change i've somehow always missed. of course, she was busy, and i was too shy, so other than smiles, there was no exchange. i suck.

oh i hung out with gabe last night, too. watched him play San Andreas for a little while. i like it.

Super Special Questions Blog

I found the Super Special Questions Blog in my old email address' box today.

I like Doughty.

November 14th: slogging through overcast loaginess

Day 58

Woke at ten to 12. The rain had stopped, but the grey overcast filth clotted the sky like a filmy canvas that a painter had considered decorating with brushstrokes, but became too depressed to begin. Flecks of moisture dotted at our cheeks as we pedaled to the hotel for sustenance. Miserable, lazy day. The only thing to do is grimace at one's surroundings and be aware of one's bones.
We got our usual fare, two Tsingtao, though there was nothing cheerful to toast. We clinked glasses dully, spoke of children, as in the possibility of having them one day. I laid out my feelings thusly: "I feel there's so many children already in the world who need a good home that to make one yourself is an act of vanity."

"So adopt."

I nodded. "Yes, but on the other hand, I watch the 'Concert for George' (Harrison) and see his son Dhani up there who's a spitting image of his father and I understand the appeal of continuing the family bloodline. But I'm the type of person who overintellectualizes everything. I'll weigh the pros and cons of all sides to death and then choose whatever has the most pros. But I will have mulled it over to the extent where my choice is purely from logic and I don't know how I really feel."

I read more James Joyce, Erin read the newspaper. We talked a bit about my failed engagement, women we knew who weren't willing to give up vices for 9 months of pregnancy and how mutually disgusting and irresponsible we find it, and what the proper time to have kids is, considering human eggs will start to "go bad" after age 30. Weird conversation.

We pedaled back, I ate dinner alone again. I went and played piano for a while. I have the new song memorized and the bridge part is nearly flawless. I also wrote a new song, which is just a chorus thus far, but I have a set of chords to work out for the verses. Sounds like a funeral dirge, sort of, with a major chord at the end.

I blogged, ate calcium cookies. Retired with the hope that tomorrow's weather will be an improvement.

2004-11-13: more halo 2

i awoke on gabe's couch a couple times in the morning before actually rising. i played halo 2 for a couple minutes, but really only to pass the time until gabe left for work. i left then as well, heading home for a quick shower, but on the way i stopped at kroger, as i wanted some cereal to eat. i experimented with honey graham life, but it's not great; it's like a cross between life and golden grahams.

i did a flyer for the black fives show here in town on 11/20, despite the no-QEG presence at it. i need to make a couple changes, but i think it turned out ok. i also uploaded a few of aaron's pics as well, and quite a few of my own from the experimental behavior showcase.

the beginning of the evening activities consisted of heading over to jane's house for a little pot-luck party, complete with a performance of her new band And How, consisting of her and kendall bruns. it's not bad, though i think i like her solo stuff better. then we were off to todd and laura's where they were throwing a small birthday party for laura.

then, of course, back to gabe's for an hour or so of halo 2, then home, blog, chat with mcdeviltoast, and bed.

2004-11-12: halo 2

[the official music of this blog entry is the free dj mix from the dmx crew's website.]

no music in the shower today, which always seems to throw me off. my bathroom cd player is one of the first mp3 cd players, so it's about 5 or 6 years old, and i've used it a lot. it's nearly dead, and sometimes likes to pretend you've not put a real cd in it.

work was ok. the application we use to pull data from the data warehouse, named Business Objects (or BO), was being incredibly finicky, and crashing a lot. we don't have the latest version, so that could be part of the problem....

i got home extremely tired, so after calling diane, with whom i had plans to hang out, i took a nap. i slept for about an hour, though i'd only intended half that. we'd originally planned on staying in at my apartment and watching brass eye, but she said that since she was on a break from school she wanted to take the opportunity to go out. where did we go? sitwell's. it was just as well; despite my nap, i was in need of caffeine.

i arrived at the agreed time, but of course diane was not yet there. the smoking section was full, which would not have been a problem but that diane smokes. like a chimney. while i was looking around for her to make sure she was not there, a girl behind me asked whether i needed a carryout order. i turned around to see no other than the girl with the striking blue eyes. a bit taken aback, i recovered quickly. no, i said, i'm meeting a friend. she smiled a smile that cut me in two, and promised to find me once my friend arrived.

i sat at a table in the smoking section which had only the one chair. i figured that when diane found me we'd figure out what to do about seating. it turned out not to be an issue, for within a minute of being seated a couple at the next table got up to pay and leave. i quickly took their seats. when the girl half of the couple came back to the table, i felt a bit sheepish for stealing her place, but she smiled; she was just leaving a tip.

the girl with the striking blue eyes found me after another minute or so. by this time i'd been waiting about ten minutes. as she collected her tip and bussed the table, she asked whether i'd liked the drink she recommended. i said i had (though i didnt mention the fact that i'd been unsure whether it was worth the extra seventy-five cents above my usual drink), and said i'd like another one this evening. she smiled, and i asked her what its name was. aparently it's a "pourpacino", like the word "pour" mixed with the word "capuccino". eager for another few seconds of her time, i asked her again for the ingredients. it's got espresso, vanilla, half-and-half, and some other things. half-and-half? no wonder it had been so thick.

she went off to put the order in and i continued to wait for diane. the drink arrived and i was mixing it up (the chocolate sauce settles to the bottom) when she arrived. we chatted for a couple hours; noting major, just chatting. it was quite pleasant, actually. she had a vodka tonic and a vodka cranberry, which was weird, because when we were dating she'd been a teetotaler. she was nervous because she had plans to go out to meet up with a boy after hanging out with me. the alcohol took care of her nerves, though, and things were soon fine. i quickly ascertained that she thankfully was not trying to hook up with me again, of which i'd had a nagging suspicion.

we left and i gave her a ride up to the comet, where she was meeting the boy. i then went directly over to gabe's house. gabe had already been playing halo 2 for hours at this point, so i waited for him to be finished with a level so that i could join in. gabe's friend kelly, who was in town for the weekend, sat next to him on the couch, and ross, gabe's roommate and actual owner of the house, was in the easy chair.

a pretty blonde came down the stairs. ross introduced her to me as elizabeth, ross' sister. i suddenly remembered meeting her at shirley's over a year and a half ago. she was as pretty as i'd remembered. she and ross left to go to crush to see a few bands play.

i created a character ("spivak", after my friend and fellow QEG member Donald Spivak) and began to play. i like it; the game play is similar, with a few updates. the graphics are better, and everything is of a much larger scale.

hours later, ross and elizabeth returned. kelly had already crashed downstairs, but gabe and i were still playing. at about 3am, john, gabe's other roommate, came downstairs. apparently he'd taken a nap at 8:30pm and inadvertently slept for hours. whoops.

ross & elizabeth crashed, and gabe and i finished the level we were on, and stopped playing. john put in grand theft auto san andreas, which he'd picked up ther other day with halo 2. i only made it another minute or so before i fell asleep on the couch.

November 13th: rainy cabin fever

Day 57

Woke to the sound of Rose knocking on the door and repeating in her sweet timbre, "David, David." I leapt from bed saying, "Just a minute," trying to locate pants, mentally force my a.m. erection to subside, etc. I opened the door and she handed me a banded stack of bills.

"You are still sleeping, mm."

"Yes, I was." I shook the bills. "Thank you."

She went to Erin's door to knock and I shut my door, married the new stack of bills with the old, looked at the time: 11:30. Missed lunch. It was cold in the hall and I noticed outside it was raining, with no hint of letting up anytime soon.

Erin and I walked our umbrella'd selves up to the main gate, where depending on one's outlook, either luck or fate bestowed us a taxi. I sat in front, Erin in the back. "Ming Tien Coffee."

My dude started the meter and started speaking to me in Chinese. I told him I only spoke a little, but this did not stay his tongue. he prattled on in between clearing the windshield of its fog. I answered in English as if I knew what the hell he was on about.

He: "(Chinese syllables)."
Me: "Constantly. All the time."
He: "(Chinese syllables)."
Me: "No argument here, buddy. You just tell 'em."

We stepped out at Ming Tien with pockets 7 yuen lighter. We sat up at the comfy orange couch section. I was famished, having expended quite an amount of energy the night before, so I ordered a steak dinner. The girl asked me something and I shrugged. She went away and moments later an official-looking woman marched over and thrust a cell phone at Erin. She took it curiously and said:

"Hello?... Hi... From America....No, in Haimen.....The experimental school....What?....Oh...(to me) How do you want your steak cooked?"

"Medium rare."

"Medium rare....Ok....Oh. (to me) What kind of sauce do you want?"

I shrugged. "Mushroom?"

"Mushroom sauce. (to me) Do you want spaghetti or french fries?"

"French fries."

"French fries.....Right...Ok..I don't know my number but my email address is (spelled her email address). Yes......Ok.....Bye."

She handed the phone back to the lady and the lady and our girl went away.

"Who the hell was that on the phone?"

Erin shrugged. "Some guy named Jack from Nantong. He wants to introduce us to some more Americans."

steak lunch at ming tien

The girl brought me a glass of red wine (complimentary with the steak dinner) in a martini glass. It had a piece of lemon in it. A bowl of soup and a hard roll arrived, as well as my fries. Erin had ordered a basket of fries and strawberry "toast" which is actually a big brick of cake. the icing on it spelled "Love."

erin's "toast" has "love" spelled in icing

For a culture all into maudlin sentiment, you'd think they would exhibit some courtesy to match it, but no, we get dudes trying to cut in line at the grocery with their bananas, cars cutting off everybody, shoving in makeshift queues, etc.

The steak arrived and it was not medium rare, it was seared. As Dennis Miller said in Bordello of Blood, "Hey, you wanna throw a Bic lighter under that steak there? For Christ's sake, it's still mooing." I sent it back and a minute later the cell phone was put in my face.

Me: "Hello."
Nantong Jack: "How did you want your steak cooked?"
Me: "Medium."
NJ: "Ah. Half-cooked?"
Me: "Uh, medium."
NJ: "Okay. Now I talk to the girl again."

I handed the phone back and my steak came minutes later, slightly more cooked than last time. I shrugged, ate it. It was tasty. I finished all my meal and the rest of Erin's fries. I was famished.
I went up to play the piano, the sustain pedal functioning this time, to my delight. To my disgust, they kept the house music on which means I had to concentrate on blocking out Whitney Houston and Richard Marx. Ugh. I played the new song, a few others, gave up when the music not only remained on, but switched to a dance pop station.

I returned to the table, read some James Joyce, reclined with my eyes closed for a but, but failed to achieve the desired meditative state. We paid, grabbed a cab back which was driven by a woman and I shared the backseat with her son, a sulllen 5 year old with tear-stained cheeks. I tried to engage him in conversation but he just stared and frowned.

Erin skipped dinner, so I went