February 11th: a weather break and the return of Heather

Day 148

Woke to a clear day, sunshine, hardly any clouds.This was the Haimen I 'm used to. I wrote, worked on songs, ate some salami sandwiches, danced out a bit to the CD's Alen burned for me. At about 1:30 I rode over to Dongzhou. On the way out of the school, two kids were walking along and one of them said smartassed, 'Ni hao, lao wei." I stopped the bike, spun and hissed "Boo shir lao wei." He held up his hands apologetically as I glared, then satisfied he learned his lesson, rode off. Lao wei is not a nice thing to call someone. It falls somewhere between "outsider" and "whitey." I will reprimand anyone who dares use that offensive term at me, no matter how young. I will teach (as is my profession) that lao wei is innapropriate and hurtful. The more Chinese I'm learning, the less tolerant I'm becoming. Ignorance really is bliss.

I knocked on Mike's door and he had just ridden back from Nantong on his new bike. We tossed the frisbee for a while. My left knee felt awful until it got warmed up. I could feel the kneecap sliding all over and I couldn't put all my weight on it. When we were done, then it felt right, just when I didn't need it to.

I checked email, browsed the 'net for a bit, researched the bodhisattva with a thousand hands. Making appearances in both Hindu and Buddhist art, the bodhisattva is a sentient being who helps the suffering, thus the thousand hands to reach out and help, the eyes in the palms for seeking them out. In China, the bodhisattva is depicted in female form, as compassion is attributed as a feminine trait. An example tale: a group of people were lost wandering the desert and three of the friends got separated. They stumbled into a cave and peered over a wall seeing a great pool of ambrosial water. The first two jumped in, the third went out to find the others to lead them to it. That is what a bodhisattva does. Though the person knows the way to paradise, they deny themselves entering until every last soul is led there.

I then read an interview with Thom Yorke and he mentioned Buddhism repeatedly. It's popped up so much lately, it bears more research. Although, thinking back, my old apartment was adorned with Buddhist prayer flags, and my altar had a miniature Buddha statue in a bowl of salt, so maybe it's been with me all along.

I went with Mike to a different blue Pacman place (the nearest one open for the holiday) got some fried dumplings (which I still have to eat cautiously ever since Guiyang) and were overcharged for these little bowls of broth with great alien hunks of blue chicken in it. Never going there again. We started watching "Homegrown" and then Heather and her brother Brian and sister-in-law Liz showed up. Good people. Brian reminded me of Dave Collins (and damn do I miss that chap). They had flown from Chengdu to Shanghai that morning. We grabbed Rhys and Jeni, went to the tents, and afterwards to the club.

Mike, a little in his cups, got pugilistic about the cover charge, even though since it was the holiday we weren't able to exact our "Anglo privilege." Heather paid, coaxed him in.The place was packed and the only table we could get was the VIP room upstairs. I went down and toasted Marco and Jacky, rhymed for a couple minutes. Jacky came up to join us and Heather was able to engage him in Chinese conversation. I made the rounds, wishing everybody a happy new year, sequestered a banana from somewhere, wielded it like my own private KTV mic, tried to pass it off on anyone and everyone.

I met a couple Chinese girls, gave them the English names Kate and Sandra, got them to wish Mike a happy new year. They came and sat with us for a while until some beligerent chap with no game whatsoever came into the room and in turn asked each of us to dance with him. We fended him off with girlfriend and wife terms and then he talked Kate and Sandra's ear off, essentially scolded them for hanging out with foreigners. I pantomimed kicking him out and they both nodded. They eventually left, fed up with his shit, as were we all.

Brian and Liz left early because they had to catch a 6:20 bus to Shanghai and fly back to the states. We said bye to them and I made Brian take the banana under the schoolyard doctrine that he "touched it last."

I went to a room a couple doors down and commandeered the KTV. Jeni flipped through the book and they had a massive English song section. I busted out "Delilah," "Easy," "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road," "All My Loving," and "Radio Ga Ga." I looked down to the dance floor and people were sweeping it up. It wasn't even midnight yet.

I crashed with Rhys and Jeni at their behest, both claiming I was in no condition to ride a bicycle home. I could have, but I preferred not to be alone again. Sleep came quickly and I had odd dreams about trying to get a job at Citybeat and Daniel Clowes assigning me to write a review of The Sopranos season 3 DVD, 500 words. I asked if he had a disk I could save it onto and he dug in his desk for one. My dreams are mundane normality, and then I wake up on a debaucherous holiday in China and I don't know which is my waking state.