March 17th: St. Patrick's Day
[ posted by mcdeviltoast ]
Day 182
My St. Patty's Day off went thusly: Had coffee, wrote, tried watching "Ghost in the Shell 2" only to discover there's no English subtitles nor English track. Nuts. The animation's top-notch but I can't follow what's going on. It's like: I know she's explaining why he killed him, but I still don't know. Crap.
Had lunch and a lunch lady approached me while I was eating, rattled some Chinese at me, despite my "ting bu dongs" and eventually figured out she was asking if we had the vegetable medley I was eating in America. Minus the bits of hot dog in it, yeah. I nodded and said, "Shir. Jay ger 'succotash.'"
She repeated, "Succotash." I nodded, and she walked away, answer sufficient.
Jeni dropped by for a spot of tea and cheese and conversation. I finished my whiskey with some very flat soda. One bottle was from the day before spring holiday. Yech. I rode out to Times and bought some vodka and some Sprite, dropped them at Dongzhou, then went to the music store and ran through the repertoire. I still haven't been able to play "Sober Me Up" exactly the way that I want, but the more I chisel at it, the closer I get.
I returned, voice loosened up, high on creativity, like a muse I.V. We had some highballs in Mike's room, listened to a rockabilly compilation I let him rip, fiddled a bit on the guitar. I'm getting better at playing with a pick (all that plectrum practice with the ruan, I wot.)
Mike held court and discussed the seemingly unreal uselessness of his job. He's figured out that the Chinese English teachers have instructed their students not to listen to us. We're figureheads because it makes the school look important. So, in essence we're getting paid to fill an administrative void, be available for practice, and travel and party. Most people would kill for a job like this, but I know what he means. You want to change the world, give grades, see some concrete results. To date, I've taught my kids three Beatles songs which they love and I know they know how to say a hard English "R" even if they never put it into practice. I've reached them (I'll be leaving behind a legacy of Chinese kids saying "guy"). I made English fun for them, and I've learned a lot from them, too. I can be proud of that.
Erin rode up and joined us and we all went for hot pot on the corner, even Andy. It was the same kind of deal as last time: they gave us a pot of stuff told us if we ate that, then we could have hot water and what we ordered. I selected out the ginger and garlic cloves with extreme prejudice. A table nearby got into a ganbei war with us. A representative from our table would go over and toast them, then after a few minutes they would send someone from their table to ours. We were drinking Tsingtao and they had Reeb. When they tried to pour Reeb in our glass, we shook our heads, said "boo hao!" We pointed to our bottle said "hen hao!" We ate our hot pot, proceeded to get fairly lit.
Our rivals left for the disco first, we followed along after some fireworks. They had no more shuttles, so we bought some spark fountains that were disappointing. They sparked and fountained as advertised but we were after something that came with a report. You can't set off car alarms with pretty sparks. The bombers with report were a little more our speed, although if memory serves right, they didn't all have report.
When we got to the club, Rhys and Jeni were lagging behind. When they caught up, Rhys was visibly upset having seen a person sleeping on the sidewalk. He acidly lashed at the Chinese government, muttered about "socialist (something) can't even give him a bed?" We all embraced him, and it was a very human scene, exhibited just how close our group was. He dabbed at his eyes, smiled, called it a "Buddhist moment." The depth of his empathy was enviable and I think it made us all stop and consider our own humanity and luck.
Inside we shanghai'd a table from a couple girls, ordered beer and a fruit platter. The energy of the crowd was weird. There seemed to be a mob around our table. One guy told Rhys that his own cock was small and Rhys's was big. That made our girls leave. Some guy at the next table stroked my arm because it had hair on it. I showed him my chest, then he wanted to arm wrestle. We left early because it was just too odd. Our guys from the restaurant showed up near the end, wanted us to dance even when there was no music.
I bought some more bomber with report on the way back to Dongzhou, but none of them had a report. 7 of the 8 were duds that just didn't even light. Boo! Sleep arrived like an anvil.
My St. Patty's Day off went thusly: Had coffee, wrote, tried watching "Ghost in the Shell 2" only to discover there's no English subtitles nor English track. Nuts. The animation's top-notch but I can't follow what's going on. It's like: I know she's explaining why he killed him, but I still don't know. Crap.
Had lunch and a lunch lady approached me while I was eating, rattled some Chinese at me, despite my "ting bu dongs" and eventually figured out she was asking if we had the vegetable medley I was eating in America. Minus the bits of hot dog in it, yeah. I nodded and said, "Shir. Jay ger 'succotash.'"
She repeated, "Succotash." I nodded, and she walked away, answer sufficient.
Jeni dropped by for a spot of tea and cheese and conversation. I finished my whiskey with some very flat soda. One bottle was from the day before spring holiday. Yech. I rode out to Times and bought some vodka and some Sprite, dropped them at Dongzhou, then went to the music store and ran through the repertoire. I still haven't been able to play "Sober Me Up" exactly the way that I want, but the more I chisel at it, the closer I get.
I returned, voice loosened up, high on creativity, like a muse I.V. We had some highballs in Mike's room, listened to a rockabilly compilation I let him rip, fiddled a bit on the guitar. I'm getting better at playing with a pick (all that plectrum practice with the ruan, I wot.)
Mike held court and discussed the seemingly unreal uselessness of his job. He's figured out that the Chinese English teachers have instructed their students not to listen to us. We're figureheads because it makes the school look important. So, in essence we're getting paid to fill an administrative void, be available for practice, and travel and party. Most people would kill for a job like this, but I know what he means. You want to change the world, give grades, see some concrete results. To date, I've taught my kids three Beatles songs which they love and I know they know how to say a hard English "R" even if they never put it into practice. I've reached them (I'll be leaving behind a legacy of Chinese kids saying "guy"). I made English fun for them, and I've learned a lot from them, too. I can be proud of that.
Erin rode up and joined us and we all went for hot pot on the corner, even Andy. It was the same kind of deal as last time: they gave us a pot of stuff told us if we ate that, then we could have hot water and what we ordered. I selected out the ginger and garlic cloves with extreme prejudice. A table nearby got into a ganbei war with us. A representative from our table would go over and toast them, then after a few minutes they would send someone from their table to ours. We were drinking Tsingtao and they had Reeb. When they tried to pour Reeb in our glass, we shook our heads, said "boo hao!" We pointed to our bottle said "hen hao!" We ate our hot pot, proceeded to get fairly lit.
Our rivals left for the disco first, we followed along after some fireworks. They had no more shuttles, so we bought some spark fountains that were disappointing. They sparked and fountained as advertised but we were after something that came with a report. You can't set off car alarms with pretty sparks. The bombers with report were a little more our speed, although if memory serves right, they didn't all have report.
When we got to the club, Rhys and Jeni were lagging behind. When they caught up, Rhys was visibly upset having seen a person sleeping on the sidewalk. He acidly lashed at the Chinese government, muttered about "socialist (something) can't even give him a bed?" We all embraced him, and it was a very human scene, exhibited just how close our group was. He dabbed at his eyes, smiled, called it a "Buddhist moment." The depth of his empathy was enviable and I think it made us all stop and consider our own humanity and luck.
Inside we shanghai'd a table from a couple girls, ordered beer and a fruit platter. The energy of the crowd was weird. There seemed to be a mob around our table. One guy told Rhys that his own cock was small and Rhys's was big. That made our girls leave. Some guy at the next table stroked my arm because it had hair on it. I showed him my chest, then he wanted to arm wrestle. We left early because it was just too odd. Our guys from the restaurant showed up near the end, wanted us to dance even when there was no music.
I bought some more bomber with report on the way back to Dongzhou, but none of them had a report. 7 of the 8 were duds that just didn't even light. Boo! Sleep arrived like an anvil.
---
[ posted by mcdeviltoast @ 3/17/2005 01:45:00 AM ]
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The dumbtronica act Montana & McDeviltoast, along with their friends, keep each other updated on their activities. Much fun having by all, and Pockys fear for their lives!