February 28th: post office hassles and ruan monkeying

Day 165

Woke too late for lunch at the dining hall, but while I blogged Erin brought a couple rolls and a large almond cookie. The universe takes care of me. She had gotten in at 7 that morning, taught at 8.

I showered, compulsively trimmed at my beard by constantly finding stray longer hairs and scissoring them at the sink. I'm still going to try and let it grow until July, but it's getting harder to withstand. It doesn't help that most of Chinese cuisine is in some kind of soupy sauce. You can feel it on your chin, but not when there's a barrier of hair. I'm terrified of being unaware that half my dinner is streaming down my face like a newborn baby.

I pedaled out to the post office, my least favorite bureaucratic ordeal here. When I first got there, a few chaps were just sitting down behind the desk. I body languaged to one guy if he was open and he sat there and grinned, so I went over to the other side, but he looked like he wanted to help. I walked back over, pulled out my two items that needed shipped and he then gestured to where I just was. "Fuck, dude, that's what I was asking!" His job was to kep the chair warm I guess.

My girl knew English, a delightful surprise. It took 45 minutes to get everything sorted and sent. 45 minutes of filling out forms, getting pushed and nudged while I did it. Americans may complain that the post offices in the states move slow, but at least there are civilized queues, and an antiseptic lack of chaos. I miss that.

I rode over to Dongzhou and Heather and I threw the frisbee around for a bit. Mike was on the field punting a football to Andy and trying to hurt him while doing it. Afterwards we collected Rhys and Jeni, walked up to the music store. I went upstairs and played for a half hour. I'm getting better at the falsetto vox on "Ultraviolet for the Mole."

Then all of us had dinner at the place across the street from the school. Tasty dishes, plentiful portions, and they were determined to put red pepper pieces in everything. After, everyone had Chinese lessons, so I rode home and tinkered around on the ruan for a bit, came up with a riff that I tried to blossom into a song. Mostly I'm just trying to get used to the feel of it. It's strange to press the strings and not have them touch the fretboard.

Erin and I watched "Dodgeball," had a BBoss. Watched some news, went to sleep.

February 27th: day of brief inconsequence

Day 164

Woke, did laundry, wrote, chatted online. I waited for Erin to make it back from Nantong, got impatient, then ate dinner by myself at the hotel. Pedaled over to Dongzhou and watched "The Incredibles" which was brilliant. A great copy, too, except for the brief flashes of "Property of Disney and Pixar, Do Not Duplicate" which came up about six times during the film. I had swung by the electronic chap's for an adaptor so now Heather has stereo sound. Rode home and slept.

Every so often, a day like this occurs. No flashes of insight, no real events occuring. Where does the time go? It usually happens on days I do laundry. Perhaps the laundering of clothes is, for me, a vacation from enlightenment, a time for my brain to replenish, recharge. Even my muse needs a break now and then, I suppose.

February 26th: mexican nite in nantong

Day 163

Woke, had dumplings at the blue pacman place. My stomach got upset with me. Ever since that batch in Guiyang fudged my donkey up, I have not been able to handle those variety of dumplings. I burp it up for the rest of the day and feel accordion-gutted. File under: quesadillas. (A rather nasty bout of food poisoning has kept me gunshy about quesadillas, which is rather unfortunate since they were a staple food.)

Rode home after acquiring some light groceries. Wrote, uploaded pictures, showered, got ready for Nantong. At around 5pm, I took a cab to the bus station, hoping it was the right one. I stood outside waiting for the Dongzhou crew, got heckled by the motorcycle-helmeted brute squad. I placated them with a little pu tong hua, mainly just tried to mind my own business in hopes they'd do the same. At last, the others got there and we filed in to the bus station, got our tickets. Mike and I killed time hackey-sacking until it was time to board.

Once in Nantong, we walked a chilly couple of kilometers to the American Cafe where Erin and Matt were waiting for us. I had pitacos (tacos in a fried pita-bread substance) and a tasty Guinness. No appearances from Joe or the Nantong Michael Moore, who as it turns out, is Matt's co-worker at the university. After billiards and gestation, I ordered Bananas Foster, which I will always order no matter how full I am because it's such a rare treat, and they brought out a banana split. Disappointed.

Rhys and Jeni wauted for us at the City Hunter pub while we went in search of DVDs and Jack Daniels, both of which we found and obtained. Back at the City Hunter, both Mike and I weren't doing too good stomachwise. I had a Sprite and after a hearty burp, I felt loads better.

We bade adieu to Erin and Matt, cabbed it back to Haimen. Heather and I got some Pepsi to mix with the whiskey, a 7-up for Mike. Everyone else crashed, so Heather and I watched Dodgeball, although certain scenes didn't have any music because of her patch-cord setup. Still hilarious, even if some of it was due to accidental surrealism.

We then had a lengthy conversation spanning fears, relationships, teaching, and cognizance of the brevity of being abroad. The friendships and bonds that all of us are forging will likely be lifelong, even if we never see each other in the flesh after these speedy four months. Keeping that in mind, every second we have here is precious, and thus a cause for celebration. These are the times we will always look back on fondly, and we're still in the middle of it all. I, for one, am thankful for that foresight.


Nantong Moat Full Moon


moon guitar

2005/02/26: movies on a big screen tv

Earlier in the week I had made tentative plans to hang out with Adam at his house on Saturday, but I hadn't heard back from him. When I got up I called him, and sure enough, things were on. After a shower and a quick bite, I grabbed a handful of dvds and set out toward Adam's.

I was excited, not just because I hadn't seen Adam in a while, but also because he has a HUGE widescreen television -- something like 55" or so. Now, I'm not a typical boy: I don't like sports, cars, steak, etc. I do, however, rather enjoy a big tv and a big stereo. One day, perhaps, I may even get one, but until then, I'll live vicariously through others.

Since I wasn't sure whether Adam's wife Tricia and their two kids would be around, so I tried to choose dvds that would be agreeable, if not entirely family-friendly. I definitely wanted to see how a couple dvds in particular looked and sounded on his system.

Once I arrived, I realized that Tricia was leaving with the kids for a couple hours, so I needn't have chosen so particularly. No problem, though -- I still had some good ones.

First up was the KMFDM WWIII: Tour 2003 dvd, mainly because I'm actually in it for about ten seconds. The show itself sounds good, but it's regular stereo, not surround, so nothing spectacular.

Next up was the Peter Gabriel Growing Up Live dvd. This one I knew would be special, and so did Adam as soon as the menu came up -- the menu screens themselves were all in DTS. Adam's not a big Peter Gabriel fan, so I didn't intend to make him sit through all two hours of the show, but I did want to hit a couple songs in particular, especially the title track, "Growing Up". In short: amazing. The surround accentuates the songs without sounding contrived, and the visuals, which were great on my tiny, piece-of-shit tv, were beautiful, making me again regret missing that tour (though I'm not sure how much of the stage show from this Rome concert was traipsed around the US when he came through).

My two live dvds made him want to throw in his live Slayer disc. Not the Still Reigning disc, which I'm actually keen to watch, but their previous live dvd, War at the Warfield. It's not bad, but I wasn't really in the mood for Slayer (unlike Adam, who's in the mood for Slayer if he's awake, and occasionally at other times as well), so we didn't watch more than two or three songs. Plus, Kerry King's guitar tone was atrocious. Seriously. WTF?

Now was time for films. My youngest brother (coincidentally named Adam) had purchased Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind as a Christmas gift for me, and I'd just received it the day before. That, coupled with the fact that my friend Adam had not seen it (nor even heard of it, due to his Tivo prepensity for skipping commercials), made for a perfect excuse to watch it.

Of course it's a great film; Charlie Kaufman and Michel Gondry are both great in their own rights, but when together are unbelievable. How is it on Adam's system? Incredible. The surround moments are great, and it's looks just fabulous. I think Adam will buy it now, if that's any indication. (He actually wanted to watch the first half again immediately, once he knew the ending.)

Midway though Eternal Sunshine, we took a moment to eat some pizza, as Tricia had just gotten back. Good times, pizza. Actually, it was weird, too, as I'd not met Paul, Adam & Tricia's youngest, before today. I'm not sure how old he is, but I know he can't crawl yet, but is about to; you figure it out. But it was weird, since the last time I at over there, a girl (Ellie, their oldest) was in the high chair, and now a boy was. Ellie was taking a nap, so it was kind of like deja vu.

After the pizza, Adam and I went back down to the basement to finish the movie. I was intending to leave after it, but I wanted to put in Zardoz and let him watch the first ten minutes or so. What happened of course, was we ended up watching the whole damn thing. It's shot in 2.35, whick I hadn't really noticed before. It's a really good-looking film, with nice color schemes throughout. Filming in rural Ireland doesn't hurt any, either. ;)

Of course, even though I really like it, I wouldn't say it's the best film ever; then again, it is far better than it gets credit for. But I'll discuss that some other time.

After Zardoz, I went home. Gabe, January Fairy, and Baby Kitty had all gone to a movie (Constantine) and then to IHOP, but were on their way home, so i couldn't join them. I chatted with the Toast in China (no relation to All the Tea in China), then crashed.

incidentally, check out this image of Zed (Connery's character in Zardoz) I just found:

sweet, isn't it?

February 25th: return to the sheep place

Day 162

Woke, wrote, taught. I finally got some new responses to the "five things you did on holiday" question, but it was "eat so many snacks." Catherine, in the last class, even went so far as to give examples for her response: "I ate many delicious sweets such as this (handed me a lolli) and listening to beautiful music such as 'Yesterday Once More.'" Adorable.

After classes, I rode up to the music store and bought a pipa string for Jeni to replace the one I broke. Then I ran through my song catalogue in an upstairs practice room. It was dark by the time I finished. I stopped by Dongzhou, rallied the troops to go back to the "sheep place" restaurant with the la zi ji ding (spicy chicken pieces with pepper adornment). Matt and Erin joined us, having gotten their Nantong packing done. This time we punished four bowls of it. Reeb poured freely.

Matt was in rare form, expounding on his midget theories:

1. Female midgets don't exist. They just eat a lot and then split.
   
2. They shower with guns.

Erin piped up: "I'm two inches from being a midget. What if I was two inches shorter?" Matt quipped, "We'd get more taxes back."

I ended the meal by accidentally eating a pepper, a mean sonofabitch that sounded like a maraca when I shook it. I was posing for a photo op, then I wanted to dump the seeds out, so I bit it, then chewed it on up because I'm insane. It was not as bad as the other night, but I chewed half a pack of gum to quell the flames.


wolfman the magic shepherd


chicken head detail
We went to the club afterwards, all except Mike, who resents the place for stealing his phone. Erin participated in the raffle and won a Chinese chocolate bar and weird aquarium light.


bitchslap averted


club action
The floor show was a terrifying 50 year old Joan Jett wannabe who kept upping the ante on weird shit she could do. She poured a beer on her head, whipped her hair around, then stuck a Mao medallion through her breastflesh and goose-stepped around the stage perimeter.


reeb abuse


mao salute
Erin was going to ganbei with her, but chickened out because she was too weird. Matt did it instead.


gan bei


joan jett and toast
I got to MC for a bit and exited my monitor top before they turned up the houselights, so I didn't feel like I chased everyone away this time. We staggered back to Dongzhou arms linked, like some young and dangerous combo of Riverdance and Romper Stomper. Before passing out I remember looking at a map of the United States and trying to show where the Louisiana Purchase and Mississippi River were.

2005/02/25: Chalk rules

Friday night I went with my friend Laura to see Chalk at Crush.

Spencer (and I think Lesniak) was spinning cds before and between acts. It was a nice mix of po-type stuff, even extending to the Carpenters. Nothing like one might expect from hearing his Burning Star Core stuff.

I chatted with Lou from Hogscraper, who's friends with Laura. He's a cool dude, and is way knowledgeable on music. I also chatted with Jim (of Chalk) about DJ Empirical possibly guesting with his solo Prantershifter set on 03/07, when he opens up for Trevor Dunn. (I'm excited for that show, as there are loads of cool experimental acts playing that night, both in the Ballroom and the Parlour of the SGH.)

The first band was The Cathedrals, Cincinnati's version of the cookie-cutter emo-hipster stuff that's oh-so-popular these days. At times they sounded like a cross between U2 and the Rapture, and often basslines seemed directly lifted from U2 songs. Feh. The kids seemed to like it, though.

After some more dj-ing, Chalk played their set. As usual, they were loud and heavy, and even though they had a bit of an off set (a keyboard was finicky, causing them to cut it short), it was still awesome. Other bands take note: technical difficulties don't have to ruin your set.

The last set of the evening was a dj set from Joshua Treble. He played a dance set, with some rather noisy and weird tracks thrown in to keep everyone on their toes. I mean, he played Hawnay Troof, for chrissakes! Awesome.

Nanaca Crash!

Well, to really read the instructions of the weird anime flash game, Nanaca Crash, you have to read Japanese, but it's not hard to figure out.

And it's oddly mesmerizing. I must stop now!

Hannidate

Let's say you're a frustrated right-winger who's struck out at love one too many times.

Well, luckily for you, there's Hannidate! Here's an example (I've bolded my favorite parts):

Name: Gary
Location: OH
Age: 32

I live close to Dayton, Ohio. I am a 32 single white male. I am a smoker. I weigh in at 170 and stand at 5'-11" Dayton has a lot of liberal women which I am tired of dating. Help me find a republican woman. Below is what kind of describes myself in a nutshell I am a mature, responsible, stable, independent adult. I live on my own. I have a job. I enjoy going to movies, walks in the park, camping, NASCAR, cuddling and intellectual conversations. I am a funny person and enjoy making people laugh. I am a smoker. I can be sweet and thoughtful. I am weight proportionate to height. Some find me hot, some not. You decide. I have good morals and values and I am of a conservative nature. I like the outdoors and nice weather. I would like to see the USA in my truck and camper and would like someone who would enjoy doing that too. I make good decisions or try to. In my spare time I enjoy working on the restoration of my truck. I have all my teeth and brush them. I have been told that I am a nice guy; you will have to decide for yourself. I am not looking for “just friends”. If I was, I would go to my buddy’s house and hang out there and drink beer. What I am looking for: I am looking for these types of qualities in a woman. A mature, responsible, stable, independent adult. This person must have a strong heart, mind and soul. This person must have a level head on their shoulders and can make good decisions. Must be a good communicator. I enjoy conversation. A person with good morals and values. Someone who has goals and dreams in life. Someone with a good job, no fast food workers, pizza deliver drivers, cashiers. I am not into high maintenance women. Someone who is simple, but has class. Someone who is of a conservative nature, especially fiscally conservative. Someone with good credit and low debt. I am not paying off someone’s charge card debt where they bought some fly lookin rims and stereo for pimpin out her ex-boyfriends ride. Someone who isn’t a control freak. Good personal hygiene and has all their teeth and no rotten black teeth. I see this way too much and I find it a turn off. Must live on their own and must keep their place clean. I don’t care for drama queens or people with hidden agendas. If you do, I will find them. I do not wish to meet people who have mental or depression problems. Must have decent transportation. I am not a mechanic nor am I buying this person a car. I am not funding someone’s education either. I would prefer this person to have a college degree. I would prefer someone who is a smoker, since I am on too. That way I don’t have to be asked to quit or I taste like an ashtray. Then too who really knows what an ashtray tastes like. I don’t know too many people who lick ashtrays…lol. Must be weight proportionate to height. Someone who is not a nagging person, but who is a happy upbeat person and likes to laugh. Someone who is sweet with a warm heart. Someone who is energetic and not lazy. Someone who likes to go out and do things. I’m not into women who get into sports. I don’t care for sports except NASCAR.

how in the WORLD has this guy not found a girl? The world is CRAZY!

2005/02/24: zappa and karaoke at the golden lions

so, my friend Pan, who runs Sensory Research up in Michigan, was nice enough to send me a dvd of the A&E Biography on Zappa. I had watched my tape of it recently and wanted to buy it, but apparently A&E have decided Zappa's not cool enough (or whatever) to release the episode for sale. (I guess it could be a music rights issue, too -- but whatever.) once i had the dvd in my hands i was itching to watch it, even though i've had that episode on tape for years. naturally, though, i ended up staying late at work, delaying my watching it ever so slightly. :)

once home, i called gabe, who came over. we ordered a pizza and threw on the dvd, on which Pan had included an old (60s?) documentary on electronic music, which was pretty sweet. many potential samples.... ;) after that, of course, we watched the zappa bio, which does a pretty good job, though the sections Peter Graves read came off sounding like a high school paper. e.g.: "Dweezil and Ahmet formed their own band, Z, which performs original music with many of the Zappa trademarks." ugh. oh well.

after that, on to the Golden Lions for the karaoke with gabe. januaryfairy met us there later, as did my friend laura, and some of the regular conspirators (janet and sharon). not very packed, but i somehow only ended up doing two songs, even so.

then off home, where i chatted with McChinaToast for a moment before crashing.

My Collections

My Collections is an online gallery of one man's collections.

and it's creepy. every picture is creepier than the last.

wow.

[note: edited to remove his image, as it stopped working.]

February 24th: thursday night tent follies

Day 161

Woke feeling a little rough. When I gathered my things, I was confused by the bread in my bag, then it all came flooding back: the fireworks, the restaurant, the pepper, the buying of the bread to staunch the flames. I rode back to the experimental school, wrote, showered, had some coffee. I actually felt fine, just a slight dull tiredness that helped me get through my misbehaving classes. Had I been more alert, I might have gotten angry.

The middle class of the three kept talking despite my constant implorings. The last five minutes of class I sat up front and ate my snack. That shut them up surprisingly. Silence begets more silence, perhaps?

After dinner I went to tune my ruan to an alternate tuning, but it would have made the strings too loose or much too tight. I tuned it to CGCG instead. I got kicked out of the piano room by the locking-up lady even before the sun was fully down. Why the fuck has the arts buidling become maximum security?

I spent most of the day uploading pictures and emailing them, completely catching up to present. Huzzah for productivity!

The Dongzhou crew invited me up to the tents. Apparently the pumpkin cake lady was back. I rode out planning on having one, coming back. I sat with them and punished some hashbrown stuff and contributed to the destruction of a crate of BBoss. Those enabling sonsofbitches. If they weren't my friends, I'd swear they're trying to assassinate my liver. It's gotten too powerful, see? Before it has a chance to run for Senate they're going to make sure it's buried, and a mere scandal won't do it. Then again, the alcohol content of Chinese beer is less than Utah beer.

A little four year old girl running around was very adorable until she started bang-banging her gun finger at us. Then it was slightly alarming. When she started throwing her lychee pits at us, she was not cute anymore. Her mother collected her, spat "Sorry sorry" at us, then disciplined the child out of view of the diners.

We returned to the dorm, decided it was too late to start a film, so we all retired.

Fear and Golfing

i got this from Popbitch, my weekly gossip/rumor email. yes, i get those.
:D

>> Fear and Golfing <<
Farewell to Raoul Duke

Just prior to his death Hunter S Thompson invented a new sport, Shotgun Golf, with Bill Murray. His description:

"The game consists of one golfer, one shooter and a field judge. The purpose of the game is to shoot your opponent's high-flying golf ball out of the air with a finely-tuned 12-gauge shotgun, thus preventing him (your opponent) from lofting a 9-iron approach shot onto a distant 'green'. Points are scored by blasting your opponent's shiny new Titleist out of the air and causing his shot to fail miserably. After that, you trade places and equipment, and move on to round two."

Go out this weekend and play it in tribute.

Read HST's last ever column:
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?id=1992213

indeed.

2005/02/23: alien resurrection, among other things

i had no sooner gotten home from work when i got a call from sara asking whether i wouldn't mind eating with her while she took a break from her schoolwork. one quick(ish) stop at sitwell's for a mocka (mine) and a ginger oolong tea (hers), i was over at her apartment, and i put on kaiju big battel. sara hadn't seen it yet, and... well... i just friggin love it. check out their site -- it's guys doing pro-wrestling in japanese-style monster costumes. awesome.

after we ate (and watched a bit of zoolander), i went back to my place. gabe's plans had fallen through, so he bright over his netflix copy of the special edition of alien resurrection. as with alien III, i hadn't seen it yet, and so the special edition was perfect for me. overall, i liked the film a lot, though i thought winona ryder was a bit out of place. milla would have been a better choice, but then she's always a better choice. :)

but yeah, it was good. which means that i actually like all four non-predator alien movies. weird. i guess i'd heard they sucked. i don't know.

February 23rd: lantern festival & Matt's good news

Day 160

Woke, blogged, showered, taught, had lunch, messed around on the ruan, taught some more. Harry had two zingers in class today. When I asked Monkey five things he did on holiday, Harry piped in: "eat a banana!" Then when I asked what boyfriends and girlfriends do on Valentine's Day, he shouted "lovemaking!" I tried to keep a straight face, but failed.

After my classes were done, I dropped in on Matt and Erin to see if they wanted to throw the frisbee up at Dongzhou and they told me Matt got the teaching position at the university in Nantong! Huzzah! We planned to go out and celebrate later. I rode up and coerced Jeni and Heather to toss outside for a bit, but the sun had disappeared behind dusty overcastness. We didn't stay out there too long. Jeni came with me to the music store and I played the fired grand piano for a bit. The dust had gotten into my chest and my voice wasn't having any songbird tendencies.

Matt and Erin came up with beer and we toasted to Matt's good news. I tried tuning Jeni's pipa but ended up breaking a string. D'oh! Miscommunication resulted in Erin and Matt already having eaten, so we the ravenous ones sought sustenance and they accompanied, Matt competing with Rhys for the coveted position: king of the gluttons.

On the walk over, people were milling about and looking up at the lantern festival fireworks display that emanated from what looked like UBC's roof. Some children walked around with rabbit-shaped lanterns, some had sparklers. One little bastard kept throwing firecrackers right at us. We made our way through the masses to the restaurant Erin and I went to with Sisi, Thunder, Alen and stalker Linda. We were after the "spicy chicken bites with no bones" and ended up punishing three bowls of them.

Against better judgment, Reeb was poured, but hey, it was for Matt's good news, and he was leaving us on Saturday and we'd only get to see him on weekends, but then we'd have a crash pad in Nantong, should we decide to debauch there. Feeling a little Reeb'd and unsmart as we left, Mike and I ate a finale pepper, without the aid of a beverage to put out the flames. It was nothing at first, then the heat began,and kept coming exponentially. We bought a green tea at a mom-n-pop grocery, upended them with little effect. At the bakery, I bought a thick loaf of sweet bread and, despite being full of our meal and beer, crammed it into our burning maws. Whether bread or time lapse, the pepper brimstone at last gave its death rattle and we were left with tingling euphoria.

Mike and I got a big serious-looking firework box, let it off right in front of Kedu, cackling in the night air as car alarms began to report like robot watchdogs. We drank more in Mike's room, toasted to Hunter S. Thompson ("Are we here to entertain ourselves or do the job?") watched "U-turn." I planned on riding home, but it was raining so I crashed at Heather's. Second day back and we were already debauching on a school night.

2005-02-22: million dollar baby

i got home from work and noticed a message from adam collins, with whom i hadn't spoken in a while. i chatted with him until sara called, then sara and i went across the revier to Newport for food and a movie.

we ate at dewey's, where i inadvertantly impressed the waitress by thanking her for the things she did. ("you're awesome!" she told me.) i guess thanks are uncommon in that profession.

after the meal, we stopped over at barnes & noble, where i picked up the latest issue of photoshop user magazine (to see whether it's any good -- i think it will be), and a new zappa biography that came out last year. now, i've read so much about zappa that i should by now know everything, but it seems i always learn new things about him, so i just don't stop. zappa's my elvis, after all. (yes, i stole that quote from groening. it's apropos, though.)

from there to the film. when sara gets stressed out with school or life in general (or both), she usually grabs me to go see a stupid film (often horror), or just one we don't care at all about. (most recently: white noise. whoof.) this time, since there weren't any truly dumb-loooking ones out there, we caught million dollar baby, a film that's getting major hype lately, and is hailed as a masterpiece.

my opinion: good, but not great. i think, though, that it was just that it didn't appeal to me personally. i think that there was nothing in particular wrong with the film; in fact, there were so many things right that i'm forced to chalk it up to a taste issue.

one of the reasons i was skeptical was that it just looked like a glorified katrate kid-type movie, which it sort of was until a certain point deep into the movie, where things took a big left turn. i won't spoil it, and to discuss it at all would do so. rent it when it comes out, if you like: it's definitely worth that. it's not the best movie i've seen all week (that would be dogville), and it's not the best movie i've seen in the theater all week (that would be bad education).

but yeah, i liked it.

after that, i took sara home, and went home myself, where i called laura and discussed dogville with her for quite a while. then to sleep.

February 22nd: holiday lesson and mashing gears

Day 159

Woke in intermittent bursts every hour, my internal alarm clock's snooze button stuck. I got up at 8:30, blogged, went to class. All anxieties about forgetting my teaching savvy were unfounded. I got right back into it as if I had just been teaching yesterday. This week's lesson is half spring festival Q&A, half Valentine's Day catchup. I make ths students stand up and tell me five things they did on holiday, forcing myself not to get angry when hearing over and over "play football, play computer games, sleep, visit my realtives..." for even if it's the same ten responses, they are speaking English, and that's what the class is. It's not an essay contest, I'm evaluating their verbal English.

The apathy crew tried my patience a little. I had to take two kids' desk contents away to punish them, threaten them with being sent to the teacher's office. When I asked what boyfriends and girlfriends did on valentine's Day, one boy in the back did the thumb-twiddle gesture. I shook my head, tried not to crack up. Luckily none of the other students saw him. I had been worried about filling the time, but I never even got to the game part of the lesson, so perhaps next week I can reuse it.

After lunch, Jeni stopped by briefly and I gave her a hot cup of chamomile, showed her the ruan. Then Matt and I tossed the frisbee on the track bend for a while. The sun was out and it was super warm. I actually worked up a little sweat which felt awesome after such a period of wearing layers just to keep the extremities less numb.

After school, I rode to Dongzhou and was stopped by two Chinese college students filming a video. They had me tell what my plans for the new year are (in their limited English) and I said something to the effect: "I finish my contract at the end of June, then I'm flying back to America to work on music. That will be my focus for the new year and that's about it." They thanked me, gave me their email address, and I proceeded inside.

Mike, Heather and I tossed the frisbee on their field, basking in the sunshine as long as it was out. We stopped a little before sunset, and Jeni, Heather and I walked up to the music store to find out about ruan lessons. Only one guy knows how to play it amd he knows zero English. I've got a pretty rare instrument apparently. Looks like I'll have to teach myself.

Dinner at the tree dumpling place, at which we got into a camera war with a neighboring table. The guy thought he was stealthy taking a picture of us, then I blatantly took a picture of them, which he interpreted as open season on us. He had me take pictures with a couple members of his party before they left. I guess I was the hiriest and scariest specimen of the bunch.

We walked to find pumpkin cakes, picked up tiramisu on the way back, started figuring out what to do with the evening. We procured a crate of beer, but when we returned, Mike and Heather had conflict. Mike was adamant about watching a film in Heather's room because the fluroescent light was too institutional. Heather was adamant about watching it in Mike's room because his screen was too small. I tried to compromise by adjusting the lighting in Heather's room, but Mike came in, dropped off the crate of beer, left. Heather started to cry.

Those two are like brother and sister, I know they care about each other, but they seem to always rub each other the wrong way if they hang out for an extended period of time. I assured Heather, "It's not you. It's not him. Nobody's right, nobody's wrong. Everyone in this life is a gear, spinning around, and since we're all shaped different, sometimes the gears mash and make sparks. You two have butting personalities in some ways, but you work well in a lot of other ways, too."

Rhys and Jeni came in and we watched (wait for it) "The Cannonball Run." God, what a turd. An expensive star-studded turd. Some of the jokes were outdatedly racist, too. Burt Reynolds calling Sammy Davis Jr. a "chocolate monk?" Whoof. Dean Martin looked terrible. I think he was operating on a gin I.V. and little else. Afterwards, they started "Life of Brian" and I watched until my beer was finished, then pedaled home.

February 21st: moon guitar and Thompson's exit

Day 158

Woke to sunniness, about damned time. After lunch, Matt and I threw the frisbee around (having procured it the day before from Heather) on the wide curve of the track since the field was still curiously mined with tetanus. After a BBoss and another failed attempt to watch "Team America: World Police" (although I got to see an extra minute on their machine) we pedaled to the DVD shop, and traded it for a high quality-looking copy of "Copland."

Before we left, Steve had sent me a link about Hunter S. Thompson's suicide. Very sad times. He was a true original, as much a pioneer of literature as Hemingway, with the same violent end. I don't think any of us can look at Ralph Steadman's splatter-ink art again and not link it to Thompson's final act. Self-inflicted gunshots to the head are so horrifying because it represents the destroying of the brain, the exploding creative factory. The hole left by the bullet released thousands of questions to plague the living like "...bats and manta rays all swooping and screeching and diving..."; numb and zombie-like, we fans are cursed to grasp at half-cocked theories why he did it, as if reason is a painkiller. It was ok that he was a private man, as long we had his writing. Now the well has run dry, and the bucket smashed into oblivion. All we can do is look back through his writing looking for clues he never left, apply meaning to randomness, spin the mythos into a steaming frenzy, and make room on the mantle for yet another dead hero. You will be missed, sir.

Afterwards, I showed Matt the music store, the ruan (moon guitar). This time, they had a pick-up for it and inserted it, tuned it a little, had me play it. It's played upright and struck with a little obsidian monolith called a plectrum. The sound is some combination of banjo and slight sitar. I talked the guy down to 825 yuen (which is less than 100 USD) and it came with a case, tuner, and plectrum. I haven't really gotten anything for myself so far, and I fell in love with this instrument. The guy said something about a teacher at Dongzhou, possibly a lesson-giver, but I only "ting bu dong" three times before I just agree with what they say. Tomorrow, I'm going to have Heather go with me and inquire about lessons.

We swung back by Dongzhou and everyone was out but Heather. (Prior to the music store, we ran briefly into Rhys who was on his way to get Jeni after her first day of teaching.) I was too busy showing her the ruan and forgot to give the frisbee back.

Matt and I pedaled back, the ruan strapped to my back Desperado-style. I fiddled with it for a bit, and Nigel came in to have a look, tried tuning it, complimented me on the quality and price of it. Matt and I shooed him out so we could check the quality of "Copland" and it didn't appear to pixelate at the crucial chapter. After dinner we watched it and sure enough, it was a good copy and we finally got to know how the damn thing finished.

I worked on my lesson plan (half holiday catch-up, half Valentine's Day vocab, with a matching game) researched the ruan, called it a night.

2005-02-21: flat tire consequences

So, after the whole spare tire thing yesterday, I had hoped to be able to wait a couple days before heading to Michel Tires Plus (where I have all of my car work done) to get a new one.

Nope.

On my way to work, when I hit about 50 mph, the car began to vibrate like crazy. I stayed at around that speed all the way to Michel Tires and dropped it off. Usually they have someone available to give me a ride to work, which is a couple more miles up the road, but not this morning. I ended up calling our consultant Amy for the ride, as I knew she would be able to spare the time and wouldn't mind.

I pretty much knew the answer before they even called me back: the spare (which, of course, I'd never before had call to use) was shot. The result: two new tires for the rear of the hearse, with the good rear tire now becoming a spare. Total: $123 or so. Ugh. So much for not spending any more money on the goddam thing.

After I got home from work I watched the copy of Dogville I'd picked up the day before. I'd seen the first half with Laura a couple months earlier, but on that occasion I'd had to leave to play the Walker Project cd release show. So, I started where I left off, where, as Laura had related later, "everything went crazy". My opinion: Dogville is incredible, and definitely one of the best of 2004. I found out later that Ebert disagreed, but that's ok. I'll forgive him. ;)

After that, an uneventful (and somewhat boring) trip to the Lions, then back home to bed.

02/20/05: still flat tire

so , reading arron's backlog of blog entries has made me feel guilty, so here's one for me today. (not that anythign interesting happened...)

i woke up feeling better this morning. i've been mildly sick the last couple days, though i say mildly in comparison with everyone else i see who is sick, as they're totally miserable & missing work, whereas i'm mostly just uncomfortable. the lungs are plegmy, but i'm on my way out of it now, so it's ok.

i took a shower and then went outside to deal with the flat tire. on friday, i had gotten in my car to leave work, and drove maybe 50 yards before figuring oput that the weirdness was a flat tire. i was still in the work parking lot, so i pulled into a spot and went to work changing the tire. in the end, it took me about 45 minutes, because the jack was being weird at one point and not raising up all the way. it turned out that there was some glass shards stuck in the grooves. weird.

so anyway, that was friday evening; yeasterday evening i had gone out to the car to discover that the spare had gone flat. sweet. i didnt bother with it yesterday, but today i had to. i hesitate to use fix-a-flat, but it seemed my only solution. it raised the tire pressure enough so i wouldnt be driving on the rim, which enabled me to drive to the gas station to fill the tire the rest of the way.

i pulled into the lot to discover some jackass in a pickup truck using the air hose. i call him a jackass not because he's using the air (which was inconvenient) but because he was parked at an odd angle that took up two spots and required me to park three spots from the hose. that in turn meant moving once he was finished, and more driving on the flat tire. grr.

after a minute of waiting, i saw he was pulling away. before i could put the car in gear, though, i also noticed that some chick had pulled in next to him at the same stupid angle he'd been parked at. jay-zus. she airs up her front-passenger tire, gets in her car, and pulls forward. i back up, so that she can pull though, and she stops her car. that's right, ladies and gentlemen: she is now parked parallel to the curb, blocking all four spots and leaving me without even a place to pull back in. genius.

eventually, she finishes, and i air up my tire. i drove it around a bit so that the sealant could do its job.

after that minor debacle, i got some coffee at sitwell's, though no espresso because they were ONCE AGAIN repairing the machine. suck. shake it was next, where i picked up Clerks X and Dogville. A couple records, too, but nothing of note.

Back here, then, to watch the longer, original version of Clerks and chat woth the Toast in China. We're very excited to unleash Montana & McDeviltoast on the public. Good times.

February 20th: music store recitals and back alley dogmeat

Day 157

Woke to sunshine, which in itself is good news but Haimen is taking its sweet time to thaw out. After some lunch, I went to the arts building, but the weird paper seals were still on the doors. Returned to my room, blogged for a bit, got a phone call. The anthropomorphic hamburger was belting its tune into the receiver. Jenn! She had gotten the box already. Huzzah for air mail. We chatted for a bit, got me excited about the July possibility of she, Gabe and Steve coming to collect me in Moab, taking me back to Cincinnati. Since she was on the dark side of the planet, she had to go to bed.

Matt, Erin and I rode over to Dongzhou, they for Muslim noodles, I for the purpose of checking out the music store, perhaps getting an instrument. We went up there en masse, perused the erhus, pipas, guitars, flutes and such. A banjo-looking pipa (ruan, also known as the moon guitar) caught my eye, but it was missing its pick-up. The store is owned by the family of the eldest music teacher at the experimental school, and she came in, all smiles. "You can come and play the pianos every day because we are........colleague."

Then she led me to a tinny-sounding baby grand, bade me to sing a song. My pipes were still a bit strained from MCing the night before, but I indulged her with half a song, moved to a different piano. When I played "Bluestar" Jeni began crying again. She had been homesick after an online chat with her mother, missing out on the little details that thread linear memories. Or perhaps it has the ability to make every Jennifer weep, who knows. At any rate, it's the highest compliment anyone can pay something I've written. Applause and praise are ok, but a true emotional response is golden.

After a few tunes, she told me that one was sold and she preferred I play a different one. What was I going to do, set it on fire in a Jerry Lee Lewis finale? I was just playing the damn thing, and none too roughly. Christ. She led me upstairs to a practice room where Heather sat and basically ran me through my catalogue. It was a little embarrassing, but good to practice in front of other people. Each time I'd finish a song, she would grin, say "Another one!" Eventually my hands got too cold and I started blanking on how to play "Favorite Witness."

Rhys bought an erhu, Jeni a pipa. Mike considered getting a guzheng, but had to consider shipping it to the states or even within China (risky!), since it's basically a surfboard coffee table with harpstrings. We went back to Rhys and Jeni's room, tried tuning his guitar, fiddled a bit with her pipa. Then we decided to get some sustenance on a street parallel to the main drag back where the internet cafe is. We rode our little Anglo bike gang back there, debated which place to go into since they all advertised dogmeat. (This is what happens when you leave the main drag.) We eventually chose a place convinced we weren't going to "accidentally" get dog for chicken since dogmeat was much more expensive. We did not eat dog. We did not eat dog. We did not eat dog. We did not eat dog. (This detail must not be overlooked since certain people would divorce me as a friend if I did) We did not eat dog.

Our mutual disgust at the dogmeat situation was eased by joking. "A good dog to the last bite," "the meal will be fine as long as they keep Fufu in the kennel," "there's a little bit of Rex in all of us," etc. The slowness in service resulted in accidental meal coursing, and our girl was determined that we not have rice until the end of the meal like regular people.

Afterwards Heather and I got a pumpkin cake at a tent, but they were not very fried. At least they kept the chill off. The others rode on and we checked out the mysterious bar nearby, which turned out to be a tea bar. I was admonished by the owner for wanting ginger tea, which he didn't have and on top of that, apparently it's only for sick people. We wanted a highball and they had none, so we left.

On the way back we swung by Shishan Lu, ducked into the DVD store, gave them their bunk copy of "Welcome to Collinwood" back. I traded it for a fresh copy of "Team America: World Police" which I've been dying to see since its release in October. We pedaled back had some rum-n-coke, invited the crew in to watch the film. After 15 minutes of hilarity, it pixelated and froze. D'oh! Now I have to go and return another faulty product, a huge pain in my ass. We watched "Flirting With Disaster" (David O. Russell film) instead, which I was amazed and overjoyed that Heather had.

I scaled the gate, pedaled on home, fell asleep in the knowledge that I had one more day off before teaching again.

Dead Hooker Solutions

I'd seen this before, but not for a while...

Dead Hooker Solutions

from the site:

Have you every been at a bachelor party and all your friends have been too drunk to dispose of the hooker you just killed?

Are you tired of storing dead hookers under your parents house?

Do you have dead hookers buried all other the county?

Or do you just need that dead hooker removed from that empty lot next door?

We can help!

Lesbian ordered to pay child support

Well, the downside of gay marriage is that it's still marriage.

February 19th: Erin and Matt return, search party called off

Day 156

Woke, blogged, got lunch at the dining hall. I walked over to the arts building and there were curious pieces of paper sealing the doors. I researched the characters and it read "February 19th 2005 year" and then one character I couldn't find. My usual room's seal was broken, but I was hesistant about going in, for fear that someone would blame me for breaking it.

I returned to my room. Despite the sun being out, if felt even colder outside. The lesson is you can get what you want and still not be happy. I spent most of the day online, then headed over to the dining hall for dinner. Erin and Matt appeared out of nowhere, casually in line with me, with a "Hey, what's up?" I embraced them both, relieved they weren't in some prison or outer Mongolian slave ring. They told me they had just gotten in an hour earlier from Nanjing, were stranded with no money for a few days (no ATM or credit card acceptance in some places) but had a great time.

I informed the crew of their return, and they arranged to meet at the hotel (since dinner was less than delicious) to welcome them. We swapped holiday stories, ate, planned for after. Matt and I picked up a crate of BBoss, dropped it off back at the room, I changed from unionsuit into thermals for going to the club. Erin met us with a taxi at the front gate and we rode to Dongzhou, went in search of massage, but it was closed.

We then went for a headwash/shampooey deal, then had a beer in Mike's room where he showed some footage of pipa playing that is making me seriously reconsider purchasing one. It may look like a mandolin, but it is played like a banjo, with a lot of trilly crescendo bits. So much for thinking it was easier than the erhu.

All but Mike and Heather went to the club, and once there, we were sat at a recently occupied table, the busboy clearing everything but a not-quite-finished pitcher that I joked about drinking. I'm not that ghetto. We got a few pitchers, some peanuts, and hardcore stares from the jacketed posse next to us.

The floor show was a beefy Danzig-like chap in a long Matrix coat, but he shed it and revealed a red tanktop before his set was up. His songs and singing were mediocre, he had more presence than actual talent, and between every song, someone wiseacre from the audience brought him a bottle of beer to ganbei, testing his masculine prowess. Matt even went up one time, took one for the may guo ren team.

After he was done I took Rhys backstage to get pictures of him. He asked questions that we answered with "English teacher" and "USA, England" no matter what he was actually inquiring. I took my place on the monitor and rocked the mic until close. Sisi appeared again, then disappeared again. She stopped by our table at the floor show, gan bei'd with us, asked if I had a girlfriend then said she wanted to "play at dancing soon." That consisted of her dancing below me and smiling while I spat syllables. When the house lights came up, it was like she was swept up with the dance floor debris. Funny girl.

We took a cab tom Dongzhou, had cabbie wait while Rhys retrieved my backpack, handed it over the gate, then we got dropped off right at our dorm (to the delight of the siempre frio Ms. Rock)

Fell asleep to "Blue Heelers," an Australian cop show.

February 18th: heart scarred with scissorcuts

Day 155

Woke around noonish, left Heather still sleeping, had lunch with Mike at Sandy's. A gent behind us sat, fiddled with his cell phone. Suddenly I caught a whiff of Satan. There's no way this guy was drinking baijoh this early. Mike had a disgusted look on his face and I heard something hit the floor wetly. He had already drunk his baijoh, now he was calmly vomiting on the floor, not going to the WC just a few feet away. He sat and continued fiddling with his cell phone as if vomiting on the floor of a public place was as normal as putting stamps on an envelope. Mike and I ceased eating, couldn't pay the bill fast enough.

I pedaled back, the school starting to fill with teachers and staff milling about. Rose knocked on my door, asked about my holiday, gave me a package of winter stuff my parents had sent. I expressed my concern for Erin and Matt even though she could do almost as much as I, it's better to share the worry burden.

The internet was connected again, so I caught up on the blog, emailed, then got dinner at the dining hall. It was a nice return to form, with three of my favorite dishes being served. I got up to leave and a gaggle of four or five older women eyeballed my tray, started chattering about how I didn't finish. I looked at my tray, gave a thumbs down, inquisitive eyebrows. I sat, finished the rest of my food, but couldn't quite eat all the rice. Afterwards, I asked the nearest one, "A-ee...kuai le ma?" (Auntie, happy now?) She smiled, nodded, the ladies laughed. I wished them a happy new year (the mileage I'm getting out of this line is incredible) returned to my room.

Rhys texted me and invited me to get dumplings. I told them I'd eaten but I'd certainly hang out. I got my bike out, all bundled up. Nigel appeared, asked, "Oh, are you going out?" No, I'm taking Darby for a walk to do his business so I don't have to clean up a little pile of batteries when I get back. YES, I'M GOING OUT! I have my bloody coat, hat and gloves on! My bike is under my arm! Christ!

I met them at the tree place and afterwards we watched "Edward Scissorhands," killed another crate of Tsingtao Light. Heather had never seen it before and she loved it. I was on the verge of tears throughout the film, as usual. Tim Burton has yet to top himself.

I told them how Edward was my Halloween costume a couple times and how after a breakup with Laura, could have slipped into that character and never come back, wandering the halls of a mental institution for all time with my cardboard and duct-taped scissors. I wasn't in danger of it happening, but I understood why some people do it. Edward moves me; such a beautiful, frail, sad, comic, tragic figure.

I showed them the trailer online for Burton's next film: "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and we debated Johnny Depp in the role of Wonka. Burton was going back to the book, doing a reimagining rather than a "remake." He's putting in the darker stuff the first film adaptation shied away from, and taking out the sappy stuff. As much as I love Gene Wilder, he was just playing Gene Wilder (see "Young Frankenstein" for another manic helping) and author Roald Dahl claimed he didn't care for Wilder as Wonka. So I'm excited for Burton's new and more faithful adaptation, and I'll see anything Johnny Depp is in.

I rode home, chatted online with friends all too briefly, watched ifilm viral videos until about 4am.

February 17th: the wine and cheese social/ pasta extravaganza

Day 154


Woke at ten to 12, thanked Rhys and Jeni for their hospitality, rode home in the grey damp nastiness. After a shower, I went to the arts building, started going through the repertoire. Three songs in, a knock came at the door. It was Feng Jao Li, hidden by a winter cap and scarf. After such a long time, I was happy to see her, wished her a happy new year ("Xinyen kuai le!") asked her how her holiday was.

"Did you visit your family?"

A perplexed look. I dug out my phrasebook, started flipping through it for "family" and she threw her head back and did a stifled scream of frustration like an 8 year old. Then she snapped, "I wanting to sing now."

Instantly pissed, I curtly exited.

"Fine. Goodbye."

She said "Goodbye" after me but it was insincere. Fuck her. A lot. After all the times I've tried to just practice but humored her intrusions and questions with patience and adult candor, this is how I'm repaid? Plus, all the other available rooms with pianos and she has to kick me out of this one instead of unlocking another one? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! I seethed in my room for a while constantly replaying the scene in my head and getting worked up. I asked myself why. I don't enjoy feeling upset or angry, why would my mind stick and dwell on something so unpleasant that bore no fruit but bad spirits? Justified anger is empowering, but in this case it came from ego, and tends to be ugly. Maybe it's the bodhisattva nature of me that makes me want to cheer up the one sad girl at a party rather than join the festivities. Something about my personality also seems to seize onto a bad moment with pitbull jaws. But it's for the purpose of needing to change it, and thereby gain relief from the cognitive dissonance. In this situation, I could not change it, relief would come from forced indifference. I ordered myself to think of other things: "She's a child, you can't change that. And she doesn't know enough English to understand your venting. Let it go."

I wrote, gathered up the cheese and pasta materials. Tonight would be wine and cheese night, followed by some pasta with LaRosa's sauce and sundried tomatoes, fresh parm to grate on top. I kept trying to wait for Erin and Matt to come back before we had this event, but I could wait no more. Incidentally, I'm now officially concerned for them. It's about four days until school starts again. Where the hell are they?

I pedaled back to Dongzhou in spitting rain. Rhys and I went to Times for a few bottles of wine, returned and hung out with Heather while Jeni slept. Heather and I went on a search for Dongzhou's piano, to indulge my sense of completion from earlier. It was a fruitless hunt. We fetched Mike, had a wine and cheese social, listened to Verdi. We toasted to being fortunate cultured creatures, enjoying cheese delicacies of the West: extra sharp white cheddar, baby belbel, a mango/ginger white stilton, (and some mild cheddar from New Zealand.) They thanked me for providing the treats, but the real heroine of the evening was Barb Willis, to whom all of us will be sending an email of earnest gratitude. Send more cheese and jerky!

Feeling wine-tingly and excited, we began the pasta process, then feasted, conversation replaced by orgasmic moans and soft chewing. We all patted our bellies, in a state of foodstacy. I thanked my cohorts for being cool enough to share with. In such a small town, I am blessed to have such a masterfully charismatic group of people with which to mutually experience this adventure. I could have just as easily been stuck with a bunch of uptight missionaries, clad in awful sweaters and lacquered with Brylcreme, endlessly trying to extoll the virtues of Amy Grant, Disney, and "Chicken Soup for the Expatriate Soul." Our collective is a wry, passionate, booksmart, politically-conscious den of creative and clever hedonists. Rhys remarked how it's like third college. We seem like a bunch of dorm mates rather than fellow teachers, we learn as much as we teach, and we know how to enjoy the hell out of time off. Huzzah for us!

In short time, Mickey stopped by and we all went to the club (all but Mike who decided to go on a night bike ride). We met Heather's flute teacher there, and his posse of friends, all piled into a table on the first floor. Pitchers of beer were brought. I told Rhys and Jeni, "This is the moment right here. The night is over." However, the ganbei-ing was light, toasts were relegated to baby sips at our hosts' behest.

DJ Marco started playing that Misfits cover/remix straightaway. I'm rarely at the club early enough to catch the first set, and he played some excellent stuff. None of that crap with intrusive cheesy vocals. I went back to give him props by pointing at the decks, giving them a thumbs-up. I danced for a bit, returning periodically to the table to drink more, nibble some fruit. During the floor show, I took Rhys and Jeni to the green room where they were bade to roll some cigarettes. A chap in a striped sweater must have thought it was weed, because he tried to shotgun it to everyone, squinted his eyes in pleasure and thanked Rhys and Jeni over and over. He even gave them tea and chocolate in appreciation. Dude, it's just tobacco. But hey, if his self-induced placebo was getting him off, more power to he and his brain.

When the music started up again, I MC'd for a while, then saw Sisi out in the crowd. I hugged her, asked her how she'd been, invited her back to the table to meet everyone. As Rhys and Jeni are dedicated readers of my blog, it's important for them to see the principal characters in the flesh. We had a drink, then I returned to the top of my monitor, laying some mad flow on the Haimenfolk: "Rhymes so heady and deadly they're killable / but you don't know English so for you they're just syllables" and such. Sisi disappeared by the end of the night and had I not introduced her to the others I might have imagined I saw her.

We walked back to Dongzhou, had some chocolate and the last bottle of wine, which put Rhys over the edge. His stomach rejected further intake, and I crashed in Heather's room to give him privacy during fragile vomiting time. I dreamt of serving at Mecklenburg's, my skills rusty, but still there. Then it turned into some early TV show with an evil Kevin Bacon.

February 16th: song organization and late night Queen fest

Day 153

Woke, rehearsed songs, had lunch. Having 27 songs completed, I set out to organize them into two albums. I selected two opening tracks, two closing tracks, tinkered with the tracklistings to sculpt an arc, spitballed some album titles. Tentatively one album will be called "Angels & Vultures" , the other "Own Saboteur." I then went back and played the songs in album order, rearranging a couple until everything flowed.

The weather is still being pumped out like a painting titled "Poe's Soul on a Bender."I hadn't planned on going out, but Jeni called, inquired if I wanted to meet everyone at UBC. I felt lethargic and spent after two hours of rehearsal, but ended up pedaling out into grey damp filth for sustenance and company. Afterwards, we nestled ourselves into Rhys and Jeni's room, ripping and listening to Queen CD's all night and drinking Tsingtao. I crashed in their spare bed, dreaming odd things like washing dishes at a Las Vegas campsite with George Harrison, and mentally re-editing that movie "The Cooler," throwing plot and logic to the wind, Alec Baldwin very overweight and surly.

My kingdom for a weather break or a bathtub. Will I forget how to teach after such a long holiday?

Untitled Document

you must check out this archive of eastern block tv commercials.

seriously. pay particular attention to
the Pinguin ice cream commercial



and the chicken meat commercial


wow.

Bollywood for the Skeptical

Bollywood for the Skeptical speaks for itself:

Bollywood for the Skeptical
Be like Madvillain, Dan the Automator, Avalanches and Kate Winslet's character in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind! Get more like that sweet tune from the beginning of Ghost World! Listen to this mix! It will make you twice as cool as you are now.

sweet. they even have mp3s!

Celtic Frost: Into the Pandemonium

Now playing: Into the Pandemonium, by Celtic Frost



I'm brushing up on my metal, and i realized that i'd never heard this very influential record. So far it's not amazing, but at least i'll have the knowledge, you know?

--montana--

February 15th: nostalgia evergreen and another new song

Day 152

Woke, headed to the arts building, finished the song, which is now called "Ultraviolet for the Mole." I've completed six and a half songs since I came to China, three in this last week. (explanantion of the half: "Flashpaper"'s music was completed in the states, the lyrics completed here.) For shit weather and dampened spirits, I've been fairly productive.

After some lunch, I went back to the arts building and ran through the repertoire. Then I walked over to Dongzhou, updated the mass email journal entries and myspace blog. We went to the tree place for dumplings then tucked ourselves into Rhys and Jeni's room, listened to music, talked about stuff like hunting, maple nut goodies, sheep, Bill Viavant, Wales, cheese, etc.

When Rhys put on Massive Attack's "100th Window," I got lost in a headswim of nostalgia for my old apartment. I could see the soft lighting of candles, and the cinema aisle light rope snaking around the pedestals of my altar, the wooden statues, tiny Buddha in a bowl of salt, the Buddhist prayer flags draped along the ceiling, the fired couch which ate the cushions from under your ass no matter what you did, my creative corner with keyboard and computer, rickety coffee table festooned with remotes and pistachios, the two facing tapestries, George Harrison photo, oil projector spinning its wonders on the wall, my overlong narrow kitchen with acres of cupboard storage that I could never hope to fill, and my bathroom with melted wax on the floor, incense dust, and magnificent deep claw-footed bathtub, the many hours I spent in bliss listening to that album in and out of the tub, preparing for a night of simple pleasures, most of which were right on Ludlow. That apartment was my first living space which I was actually able to fill with my own energy, as it is one of the first times living without roommates and friends remarked how peaceful and comfortable it was, despite being too tiny to properly entertain a crew of over four people. Sometimes it was standing room only in my cozy efficiency.

Rhys and Heather both asked if I wanted to put on something different, afraid I was becoming upset. Why would I want to do that? It's a happy memory. Nostalgia may be scarved in sadness, but it's a good thing. Transition. Everything is transition. Living the Buddhist lesson. I hadn't thought that deeply or vividly about that place and those times since I left. Every bath I took or every gathering at my place seemed to have an expiration date since I knew I would be leaving eventually, so I tried to enjoy the hell out of every second, but it's never enough. There's always the feeling that a few more drops could have been wrung out, another level of appreciation could have been achieved, that you could have slowed the wheel of time to the point where you could memorize the precious seconds into a linear mental film. But the truth is if you had the ability to do all that, you would miss out on the very moments you were trying to preserve, like an overzealous dad hellbent on videotaping everything for posterity who ends up missing from all the footage because he's behind the camera.

Project C-90

Project C-90 catalogs cassette tapes. weird.

click on the brands at the left.

here are the ones i used to use when i was a teenager:



i think i still have some of those...

[note: i guess linking the image in didn't work...]

February 14th: barometric bends

Day 151

Woke and the weather had turned grey and rainy again. Both myself and Barb Willis have sensitivity to changes in the barometer. This one was so severe from the previous day I hadn't time to decompress, so I had the bends all day, a feeling like you're off-balance, ready to yawn, sleep, cry, crawl out of your skin, scream, outrun yourself, pop your ears. Unpleasant.

I began working on a song (beta church dirge) I hadn't tinkered with in a while, adjusted the chorus and made it better, then made a little conjunctive interlude to bring it back to the verses in a major key. All it needs now is words.

Walked around town trying to conquer my bends. Went to the outdoor market, but they had no slippers my size and they were mostly closed down anyhow. I kept my spirits aloft by singing "Across the Universe" to myself like a mantra (Nothing's gonna change my world...) Went to the internet cafe for a bit, then picked up some DVDs at Shishang Lu ("Edward Scissorhands" for Heather's birthday), headed on over to Dongzhou.

They were watching "Tigerland" when I got there, so we finished that, then got some grub at Sandy's. When we got back, I threw in "Welcome to Collinwolod" only to discover it was a "filmed in the therater" bootleg, too dark, the frame was misaligned, completely unwatchable. Disappointment. We threw on "Evil Dead 2" which I had to assure Jeni and Heather was a not-scary comedy, but they jumped a lot and sometimes I was the only one laughing. After "Scary Movie 3", I walked back home, took a shortcut over the wall by the primary block only to trek through some nasty mud. There are no safe shortcuts.

Fell asleep with Asia Pacific on.

February 13th: huo guo and the grand design

Day 150

Woke to better weather, practiced my songs for an hour or so. I rode out to Dongzhou, Mike and I went to shop for a guitar. I tuned a couple, broke a string on the second one. The shop also had ehrus, more reasonably priced than Guiyang, some odd ehru cellos, four string Chinese guitar-type instruments, keyboards, wooden flutes. I was interested in the ehru cello, but the lady didn't know how to play it.

We stopped by the electronic chap's store to browse for headphones and pick up some CD-Rs, then swung back by the school. Heather was back and we went out for huo guo, although Rhys and Jeni were AWOL. We went to the place the music teachers first took Erin and I. One of my students was having dinner with her parents. In an anunciated voice came "Hello, Mr. Willis!"

"Ni hao! Xinyen kuai le!"

She smiled. "Same to you."

I waved to her parents. It lifted my spirits. With all this holiday idle time, I needed to be reminded that I am a teacher, and how much I love my students. I miss them.

We ate a milder batch than the Chengdu brimstone, and when they first brought the stuff out, hardly any liquid covered a bunch of stuff. We were instructed to finish the stuff first, and then we would receive more water and what we ordered to throw into it. WTF? We tried to make a dent in the pile of food, although, not being fond of tearing meat off bone, I stuck to decimating the ginger strips, celery, and garlic cloves. We made our guy top off the broth, and when boiling, dumped in our beef, chicken, potato, pumpkin, tofu, mushrooms, and cabbage. I wasn't going to drink but Heather and Mike gave some song and dance about how one or two alcoholic beverages is better than none and whatnot and I relented, "Ok, you fuckin' enablers! I was just trying to give my liver a break." All holiday except for yesterday, my staple food has been beer.

So began the white noise factory, the Walken voice among others, and wishing everyone a "xinyen kuai le!" We returned to Heather's room with a crate of beer, Mike was "calling his lawyer" in his room. Rhys and Jeni joined us and we got into a lengthy discussion about homosexuality: physical or cultural (my theory is it's nature's population control), stem cell research, and fuck-off chocolate. The night progressed and when Mike, Rhys and Jeni were having a smoke break, I saw Heather had "Brick" on her hard drive, asked her to play it.

The line "and I'm feelin' more alone than I ever have before" runs through my head too often lately.

"Is it because Erin and Matt are gone?" Heather asked.

"It runs deeper than that."

I miss my people back home, and I get scared of the distance I will have created after a year. I'll still be me, but with a "wisdom and experience upgrade." Will I be treated differently when I return, or will I be the awkward one? Am I doomed to bounce from limbo to limbo for all time, bonding with people only long enough to make it hurt when I go? Reeling and punchdrunk, how many years are left on my heart? At what point will it scar over to keep from hurting? On the other hand, it's attachments that cause pain, and aren't I living in a Buddhist fashion, embracing everything as transition, the ultimate practicing lesson? The grand design assuages fears, brings back perspective, and reminds me of the importance and insignificance of every moment. This thought, combined with a hug from Heather, gave my soul good posture again.

I pedaled home, slept with BBC World on.

Flash Movie: Rocky's Back

This short film, Rocky's Back, is the height of guerilla filmmaking. Sweet.

Good enough to endure the song, though if you turn the sound off on your computer, i won't tell.

February 12th: detox day and the completion of "Sober Me Up"

Day 149

Woke, snow on roofs like a bad dream, no other accumulation anywhere but my bicycle seat. Pedaled back gritting my teeth in the crisp wind still not believing the weather turn. I wrote, finished the entries from holiday. Then I went over to the arts building and finished the "whiskey stomp" tune which is now called "Sober Me Up." It's perfect, exactly the way I wanted it to turn out, very Beatlesy.

I ate salami sandwiches with ginger preserves and they turned out quite good. I saw on BBC that Arthur Miller had died. Sad Xmas. Then I went back to the arts building just to run through the repertoire. At one point a ground crew chap tried to come through the window. I looked up at him, pointed to the door, said "It's open." I went back to playing assuming he was coming in at any second, he didn't. He disappeared. It threw off my performance chi, so I left again. Dark fell and I hadn't planned on going anywhere because of the cold, but Jeni called, invited me to dinner. I walked there and all of us (minus Heather who was in Shanghai seeing her people off) returned to the noodle place from a couple days ago, who stayed open especially for us.

Afterwards, we went for massage on Shishang Lu, and I requested Rachel, since I know she does it right. I ended up getting worked on first but it was taking forever for the others, so they went to a place across from Dongzhou. Rachel and I stumbled our way across conversation. She taught me a few words like "pai mang" (ticklish) and "mei shema" (nothing). All the stress was getting worked out, but at the end a lot of it got put back in, thanks to her co-workers and their clients. They stared, talked about me in front of me, used "lao wei." I told them "Boo shir lao wei. Wo shir may guo ren. Lao wei (made thumbs down gesture.) Lao wei is bad. Lao wei is not nice."

"Ting bu dong."

Thanks for ruining my massage. I had to entreat them several times to stop making fun of me and I was a couple minutes from throwing my water in their face. I'm at the point where I can pretty much tell what they're saying, but I can't form sentences of my own. I'm a screaming mime, a frustrated beast with no verbal opposable thumbs. I left, trying to find my peace again. I got back to the school but Mike's door was locked. I walked across to their massage place, but the front door was locked and I couldn't see into the upstairs where they were. Crappy.

I walked to the internet cafe emailed for a bit. Some wiseass said "lao wei" when I first entered, but I stayed my tongue. I need to not take it so personally. I sang Sly and the Family Stone's "Don't Call Me Nigger, Whitey" to myself and it cheered me up a bit. I kept my hat on inside to block the noise somewhat. Lindsey had emailed me saying she had talked with a guy there in Canada about China and dropped my name and he said "Not the Aaron Willis from Fudgie and Fufu?" Apparently he had seen the Rasputina gig. My quasi-celebrity status has extended beyond US borders. Crazy.

I took a cab to Ming Tien and I had to force the guy to give me my change from a ten. He shrugged like he didn't know what I was talking about and I pointed at the meter, which was curiously hidden on his side by the console. The guy in the back laughed, like a "He's got ya, Al" kind of laugh, and the driver surrendered that precious 3 kuai. Nice try, chisler.

I ordered carrot juice and a pineapple pizza as comfort food because I didn't know the Chinese characters for banana split. I asked my server if I could play the piano, and also had her kill the Christina Aguilera on the inhouse speakers. I played, but didn't attempt singing because it was late and the congesty had bedded down in my throat for the night. The songs sounded fine in their instrumental form, though.

I walked home, watched some Asia Pacific, went to sleep. On the day I finish a song called "Sober Me Up" it occured to me I hadn't drunk any alcohol. Funny.

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.

February 10th: a weather break and a finished song

Day 147

Woke around 9ish, wrote a for a while, then went to the arts building and finished the "mushroom hymn" whose working title is now called "End of an Era." The words came easily once I got the subject matter. It's about the David Enright's killing off of our music alliance, and therefore friendship. The first time I sang it with the completed words, I cried. I hadn't realized how deep I'd pushed those feelings until I faced them head-on in song format. It's a deeply satisfying song, with builds and breaks and payoffs and a lilting harp-like verse melody.

I returned to my room, cleansed and accomplished. I ate some salami sandwiches and wrote more until a knock came on my door. Mike had stopped by and he brought good weather with him. Had he not interrupted, I might have written on until dark, missed the sunlight completely. We grabbed a quick lunch at the hotel, then hopped a cab to Mike's school, tossed the frisbee on the field for a while. It wasn't exactly warm, but the sun felt invigorating. Clouds of varying grey skulked around, but left the sunbeams unhindered. The vastness of sky, the sun and the silence all reminded me of the West. Just what I needed.

We stopped after a half hour, both of us feeling a little dehydrated and winded, in a good way. We then played Worms waiting for Rhys and Jeni to wake, apparently they had all stayed up until 3am playing Worms the night before. 6pm rolled around before we knew it, and Jeni came in, inquired about dinner plans. We planned on going to Sandy's but she was closed for the holiday, so we opted for the tents. We collected Rhys, who has been busy ripping my entire music collection.

We sat and ate fried rice, pumpkin cakes, chicken and peanuts, etc. Two chef guys tried to give me cigarettes, and since it no longer works to deny them, I accept their gift, then just stick them behind my ear "for later," but later involves giving them to my friends who do smoke. Tonight I put them in the brim of my cap, like some Phillip Morris press pass.

A Chinese kid named Darren sat with us, tried to offer us fish heads, which even he wouldn't eat. He practiced English with us, and tried to invite himself along to our night life plans, but the plans were just more Worm tournaments. At 1:40, I had to call it a night. My eyes itched and my throat felt swollen (allergies and/or being in close proximity to three smokers). I scaled the gate, got a cab and returned to my room, my empty school. I miss Erin and Matt, and I'm beginning to get worried about them. Sleep came like an anvil.

February 9th: ushering in the year of the cock

Day 146

Woke periodically to fireworks reports at 7am. Feckin' Chinese. Pedaled home. The weather is still pants. Did laundry while writing. Worked on songs for a couple hours, added a conjunctive chord combo that provides a better segue for the "mushroom hymn." They're almost finished. My knees ached from the cold and the residual strain from the fortnight of continous hiking. Sick of cold extremities.

Rode to Dongzhou middle school a little before 5, was pelted by pretzel salt sized hail. Watched "Tombstone" with Mike. Val Kilmer should have gotten an Oscar for playing Doc Holliday. We cooked up some Velveeta shells-n-cheese (the first experience for Rhys and Jeni), drank some Tsingtao, played Worms until I bid them adieu, pedaled back praying for a change in the weather, and for Erin and Matt to return so I can cook the pasta.

February 8th: Chinese New Year's Eve and Cincinnati chili

Day 145

Woke, wrote, worked on songs for over an hour. I almost have the "mushroom hymn" and "whiskey stomp" tunes worked out. The vocal melodies are nearly complete, I just need to iron out the words.

I rode out to Dongzhou, met Rhys and Jeni halfway on their walk to the experimental school. We dropped off the heaviness in my backpack, all my CD's for them to sift through and rip. Mike joined us and we obtained noodles with potent spiciness. I was a sniffling, coughing, tear-streaming mess. We headed up the street, perused some posters and such, wound around to Civilized Landscape street, entered Dongzhou park. It was depressing in the winter, mud and yellowed grass, greyness, puddly.

After making a lap, Mike and I got the frisbee out on the main lawn area, a portion of which was taken up by some fenced-off animal exhibit, hidden by tents except for an ostrich one could view through a gap in the canvas. The poster showed a lion, a bear, and other fierce creatures, but based on the fraudulent British fryup picture at Royal Young Coffee, they probably only had the ostrich and a cow skull.

The cold was hell on my joints and I felt like I was going to tear something in my knee when we first started tossing around. I tried to stretch a bit and eventually I was warmed up and limber, but that was when we were ready to go. Fireworks were starting on the horizon, the front moving in more likely fall-out smoke. We wandered back to the school, had some beer and started the ripping operation with Massive Attack and Faith No More.

I began the chili, brought it to a boil, then played the waiting game of stirring occasionally for an hour and a half. The old familiar aroma wafted down the hall. When night fell, the fireworks began proper. We went on the roof and in every direction there were bright explosions, colorful bursts, swirling screamers and glittering sparks. They let off a display right at the front gate and the stuff exploded right over our heads. Down at the tents some guy was firing bottle rockets into traffic and a couple times the underside of fleeing cars were lit up with red and green bursts. Across from us, someone was letting off a huge fountain display in the narrow gap between two tenement buildings. It was great. "You crazy bastards!" I yelled, "I love you! Wo ai ni, chung guo! I'm burning the chili!"
Not really.

The chili was done and we boiled some fettucinetti, filled our bowls. It was a little different with pork, but still had that badass Cincinnati chili flava. Rhys practically licked the saucepan clean. No leftovers for this crowd. We then played Worms, a computer game of cute whupass variety, watched another fireworks volley at midnight, played more Worms. Because of tiredness, cold rainy weather and the fear of taking a roman candle to the temple, I crashed at Rhys and Jeni's again.

February 7th: sent boxes and broken brakes

Day 144

Woke up sucking a lemon, as Thom Yorke says. The weather is killing me. At least it was dry today. I assembled the gifts in a box for the 'nati folk, braved the post office and holiday crowds, sent the bastard air mail because the waiting game is torture. On the way to the internet cafe my remaining bicycle brake cable snapped. Great.

I could only fathom the deafening gameplay and standing guy bumping into me for so long, left and cautiously pedaled my way to a bike repair chap, using my foot and gritting teeth to stop. I had him fix both brake sets while his crony rattled off Chinese at me like an auctioneer despite my "ting bu dongs" and "edyen pu tong hua." I at last made it to Dongzhou, hung out with Mike and watched the rest of "The Butterfly Effect." Then he, Rhys and I went on a quest for ground beef to make Cincinnati chili tomorrow. Mike led us to a market behind Dongzhou that had goats in all forms except standing there bleating. No ground beef.

We went into Times, picked up some ground pork (the closest we could get) and stood in one of the several holiday-jammed queues. The Haimen Ozzy Osbourne got in line behind us and launched into some high pitched drunken gibberish through his rotted out teeth and straggly hair. He kept holding up two sets of vegetables, smiling, with the intent I assume of cutting in front of us since he had so little. we only had one item, and he was next anyway, so I told him to chill. I looked in my phrasebook to say it but all it had was "next to" or "next month." "Hey dude, you're next month. Relax!" He didn't. Rhys, being right next to him, was deeply unnerved, afraid at any second Ozzy was going to hold him up with a Cronenberg chicken pistol.

We picked up a can of tomato paste at Kedu and retreated back to the confines of safe and Ozzyless dorm. We often ate snacks and drank for a while (Mike had picked up some "Hot Welsh Onion" crackers, had Rhys, our inhouse Welshman assess their authenticity) then headed out for noodles around the corner. Rhys had stolen the appetite of a lumberjack; he finished his noodles, mine, and Jeni's.

The weather, still being a big burlap sackful of bullocks, made us stay in. We watched "Xiu Xiu the Sent-Down Girl" about a girl in the the Communist youth program forced to leave the cities and go into the country as a way of breaking down the class system, then being abandoned to be at the mercy of cruel opportunists who promise to aid her escape in exchange for sexual favors. Intensely sad film, difficult to watch sometimes. We chased it with "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" to cleanse the sadness, but for me, the opening shots in Arches National Park gave a new flavor of sadness. In less than five months I'll be out there again. I wonder how it's going to feel.

After the film, Mike played around with some photos of the trip, like trying to fix Dr. Thumbwars' teeth. They're really beyond help and I feared staring at them at great lengths were going to influence my dreams. I pedaled home, excited to make chili tomorow and praying the weather would break.

Also cool.

apparently, ipod use is rampant at Microsoft.

Wired News: Hide Your IPod, Here Comes Bill

heh. funny.

Buy Blue

Buy Blue

from the site:

You may have voted blue, but every day you unknowingly help dump millions of dollars into the conservative war chest. By purchasing products and services from companies that donate heavily to conservatives, we have been compromising our own interests as liberals and progressives.

BuyBlue.org is a concerted effort to lift the veil of corporate patronage, so consumers can make informed buying decisions that coincide with their principles.

cool.

February 6th: days of indoor leisure

Day 143

Woke at 9:30, thanked Rhys and Jeni for the accomodations, returned to the empty school. The rainy grey is taking its toll on me. I keep waking up dreading the weather, and the weather keeps giving me reason to dread. I bought a phone card and once again my phone won't accept the code, so I can't call Rose to tell her I got the package and to see if she could switch the internet back on.

I wrote, did laundry, played piano for a while. I have the changes to "At the In-Between" corrected, and it's a more interesting dynamic song now. I almost have the words to the "whiskey stomp" song. The chorus is very important. I want to make it Beatlesy, simple and memorable that the audience will be singing along with by the third refrain. Happy songs are difficult to write. The Beatles make it sound so easy.

I pedaled over to Dongzhou, Mike and I had a couple beers, ate some kickass beef jerky (cheers, Mum and Dad) while watching a Led Zeppelin DVD. Rhys and Jeni joined us and we all went to Sandy's for potato goodness and spicy chicken whatnot. Afterwards, we watched "Hero" (equally stunning as "Flying Daggers")and then I pedaled home.

At the gate, another package was there for me from Jenn. This one contained a heap of tea (Earl Grey in there for teasing) some T-shirts, Paperback CD and poster, a couple postcards, nag champa incense, some packets of Cincinnati chili. I almost cried it was so cool. I miss my people and can't wait to see them again. I promised myself to mail something to them en masse tomorrow. I watched BBC for a bit, then tucked myself in.

February 5th: mustard quest

Day 142

Woke at a mind-boggling 7:30 am, started writing. Got a couple entries pounded out, then went and sneaked into the arts building to play piano for a couple hours. Made some minor adjustments to a few songs I had thought of on the train and started writing a new song before I figured out it was half an "Arcade Fire" song and half my song "Tea and Bisquits." Oops.

Wanting to sample my salami and cheese, I set out on a quest for mustard. It doesn't exist in this town. The supermarkets were flooded with Chinese New Year crowds, obtaining snacks and whatever supplies they need to properly celebrate the imminent loud day off. Outside NGS, the outdoor bazaar from block behind had moved onto the sidewalk blocking any useful attempt to get by.

I then rode out to the internet cafe, but I didn't linger long. Some guy was playing a first-person shoot-em-up game in the back at the maximum treble-heavy level his computer speakers would allow. It sounded like a rice krispies drum corps. I couldn't concentrate so I left.

I hung out with Mike and Rhys, ate some fries, watched a bit of a Doors DVD Mike had picked up in Chengdu. It was weird to watch Jim Morrison, iconic ghost perfectly preserved in a vintage 60's vapor, onstage with very little presence, looking more like a costumed hooligan, an understudy for the real vocalist who took too many sips of surrogate backbone, paralyzed behind the microphone stand and hoping a stream-of-consciousness word garland would act as a parachute. It was refreshingly human. Not a poster, not a statue of a god, but a poet with fears and frailties that he tried to hide from the world with libidinous overcompensation.

I also became aware of a changing perception. Since Morrison (and a host of others) died at 27, you grow up having a fixated "this person is older than I am" awareness, a concept of their heads being a complete mystery, but that you'll understand one day. Then your 27th birthday comes and you still haven't figured it out, but it seems that these rock stars had tapped into something else, some wellspring of enlightenment/inspiration and it fucks with your head that they are now metaphysical peers from an age standpoint. Now my 30th birthday is looming on the horizon, and the 27 stigma is behind, the "peers" are going to change into "little siblings" eventually. Growing up, there was a skewed perception, then 27 hit and if I was going to understand them the most it would have been that time, and now it's past and I can almost hear the construct change with a Doppler echo: rising, flat, falling, the sound of driving by a statue of a hero on life's highway. Yet, age does not give wisdom, life does. One who is very impatient or frustrated from lack of "the big answers" is almost certainly not ready to know them yet. Mike and I toasted to it one time: There are no regrets, no guilt, only lessons.

We went to the hotel for pizza, came back and watched "House of Flying Daggers" (absolutely stunning) I got into my cups a little heavier than I had expected and ended up sleeping in Rhys and Jeni's spare bed.

February 4th: debauching on a rainy afternoon

Day 141

Woke around 9:30, wrote for a bit, headed over to Dongzhou around noon, we all went to Ming Tien. I got company sandwich and coffee (at long last!) Rhys was having some trouble with his "chili con commie" pasta and eventually had to ask for a fork. Mike asked for it, but became afraid he asked for a sock instead. She brought a fork.

We walked around some side streets in the filthy grey wet weather, had the "may guo ren show" outside an incense place, made it back to Dongzhou. I borrowed Rhys and Jeni's computer to send an email, then joined Mike for a double-header of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom." Kate Capshaw is to Temple as Sofia Coppola is to Godfather 3. Maybe Spielberg got a kick out of seeing his wife-to-be acting like a dumb blonde, but it falls flat. Her acting ability can't belie the obvious intelligence behind her eyes and she just comes off as annoying.

We drank, ate dumplings at the tree place for dinner, went to the club. Mike stayed in. We sat up on the balcony and I brought Jacky up after made to rhyme for a minute. He was fascinated by the Rhys and Jeni cigarette-rolling show. Rhys and Jeni had brought a kilo of fine English tobacco, rolling papers and mini filters to last the year. We attracted a crowd and it was the "may guo ren show" again.

In the corner at one point I saw two men arguing over a stuffed animal. The one guy wanted it, but the other guy was reluctant to let him have it. I watched it for a good five minutes, then I went over to end it. I figured if they can't share, I was going to take it away from both of them. They couldn't understand me, but I sternly insisted on having the stuffed animal. I slapped my palm, gestured, pointed, all with an authoritarian air cultivated in the classroom. The guy gave it to me, pouting as he did it. I immediately broke into laughter, gave it back to him. I was stunned it actually worked. Both men came over and had a hand-rolled cigarette.

The club closed at a mind-boggling quarter 'til twelve. We wandered back, made sure they scaled the fence ok, then I rode home.

Galaxian World Record Holder...

...Gary Whelan

A little something for my boy Fudgie to shoot for (no pun intended) when he gets tired of Galaga.

February 3rd: back to Haimen, the meeting of Constable James and Jeni

Day 140

Woke from some odd dreams about getting a job at a newspaper doing music reviews (maybe a sign I should get a job at Citybeat when I return), pulling out a tooth that had a jawlike appendage attached to it, examining my porous spongy skull with maroon patches all over.

The spring festival hordes filled the train station amphitheater, a sight that made us glad to be ending our holiday then. At the bus station, we were directed to three different lines before a helpful girl at the information desk helped us purchase two tickets for a bus that would drop us off in Haimen and left at that moment. We were given the privileged front seats and we could see out of the fishbowl instead of the golden view of someone's dandruff. The drawback was the inevitable greenhouse effect, but I was too pleased with the long-denied Vitamin D that I couldn't hate on the sun that much.

Once back in Haimen, it didn't seem real. It still felt like we were traveling. Mike caught a motorcycle taxi back to Dongzhou, I decided to hoof it since I was basically around the corner. The weight of my bags increased with each step, so I flagged down a cab, had him drive me all the way up to the door. My quarters didn't look the same, mainly because it was so clean. A few bits of mail had been tossed under my door, a couple cards from Jenn and a note from Rose reading: "There is a box for you at the front gate. when I found it at the post office it was broken." I collected it, the long lost Christmas box from my parents. Sticky dampness was leaking out of the corner. The box's casualty: Mrs. Butterworth. All of her maple syrup blood was poured over the other foodstuffs as if in sacrifice. How can a plastic bottle shatter? I spent a half hour cleaning off the pasta, cans of sauce, meats and cheeses, candies, etc. Then I showered and rocked out to the Paperback CD that my parents had enclosed. At long last, the finished product, an excellent slab of melodic rockness. It made me nostalgic for the live shows, the barbecue, for Cincinnati in general.

Old Man Winter wasn't giving up his post in Haimen that easily, and despite the dwindling sun, the wind cut through me riding over to Dongzhou. I let Mike upload my pictures, played the Paperback CD for him, got to brag about my brother: "He's a badass guitarist, I'm very proud of him, etc." The soundtrack for our picture upload slideshow was "Spring Break," too fitting.

A knock came on Mike's door and Rhys and Jeni entered, slightly hesitant and smiling. We had already met in email and text message form, the flesh was just a formality. Rhys is a lot taller then I had imagined, and with a voice like Cillian Murphy. I only had a blurry pic of Jeni to go off of, so now I had a clear face to couple with her voice. Good people. I embraced them, welcomed them to Haimen and better times. Since they arrived, they both got contracts at Dongzhou and were put up in teacher's quarters. I gave them the silk I bought for them in Chengdu and a red New Year's envelope of cash. "I won't have my friends destitute," I said. Their initial situation up north left them with very tight purse-strings. I had leftover holiday money, and I get paid again in a couple weeks, so it was nothing at all. "You're too good to us, mate." Rhys said. What else could I do? I would have felt like Ali Baba, hoarding my treasures while I knew two people were trying to budget themselves with 38 kuai a day. A man who could do less is a lesser man.

We chatted for a bit, about Somerset, Wales and Cheddar (yes, like the cheese, although it doesn't come from there anymore), Mike and I told some holiday stories, showed some pictures, then we all went to the Blue Pacman for dumplings and beer. Afterwards, we picked up a case of beer and continued chatting and looking at pictures. Rhys and I went out for massage, Jeni retired, Mike got massage elsewhere. We caught a cab to Shishan Lu. The two girls we had were inexperienced and I felt bad that Rhys's first massage was subpar. They didn't do the hand-and-hair thing right and they only did it because we told them to. I think we were both a little inebriated, so anything would have felt good. We had plans to go to the club afterwards I think, but we ended up just taking a cab. I saw that rhys was dropped off, then I had the cabbie drive me to the experimental school. At the gate I gave him a ten and he sat there. I inquired where my change was. He tried to tell me since we went to two places that the ride was ten kuai. I know for a fact the rate starts at 7, and only after those allotted kilometers expire does the rate go up. I kept asking for my change: "San kuai" The cabbie shook his head, did the hand motion for ten kuai."Ok, where's your number and license?" He didn't understand me, but saw that I had whipped out a pen and notebook and was looking in the front seat for his information. The guy riding up front fished out a few kuai and gave them to me. I left the cab without saying anything. I feel more in control of cab situations now that I've been on holiday and know that everyone's trying to grift me. Since my dude didn't put the meter down, had I reported him to the police, he would have gotten in trouble. Score one for the 'Toast.

Sleep was weird in my own bed after such a period away.

Ali G

so yeah, i got a couple Ali G dvds for christmas, including his film, Ali G Indahouse. I didn't expect it to be spectacular or anything, but actually, it turned out to be surprisingly good. sure, it's a cookie-cutter plot (underdog fights to save the community center), but i was amazed at how many of the jokes (apart from the excessive dick & weed jokes) were actually NOT formulaic crap. take note America: the UK even makes better crap films than you do.

i still like steve vai

yes. it's odd; even though i'm not the super guitar nerd i used to be, i still really enjoy certain artists/albums, and one of thse artists is steve vai. today i wondered what he was up to, and Lo! a new album is coming out and a tour coming through cincinnati. sweet. now i just need to make sure the Quahogs Entertainment Group has no events on 04/09 so there's no conflict.

i heard some clips from his new record, too, and it sounds good. i dunno; i might even buy it. ;)

February 2nd: long train continued

Day 139

Happy birthday to David Enright wherever he may be or however he chooses to spend it. You're 31, guy. Fufu's been dead a year and Fudgie misses him terribly.

Woke and spent the day listening to music, playing cards, drinking, rewriting all my songs' lyrics since I had no piano to practice on.

Had dinner in the dining car, a tasty chicken and vegetable dish, the everpresent rice. Started thinking about working in the States again. Could I get a teaching job in Cincinnati? Would I want to teach American kids? Mecklenburg Gardens entertained the idea of making me manager/bartender. After nine and a half months, what if my server sense (timing, multi-tasking) atrophied or disappeared altogether? Who was this little sweatbee of doubt dropping its venom into my brain? I laughed it away. It was not welcome, had me confused with a lesser person. Whatever I do to make ends meet in Cincinnati, I will be fine. I always am. The telescope is moving into a new position come July, focused on bringing Lino and the song catalogue to fruition, not to mention dropping the Montana & McDeviltoast juggernaut on an unsuspecting music scene. I WEAR THE PANTS!!!!

As scenery streamed past the picture window, day turned to night, and once again we succumbed to sleep. We were blessed to not have cabinmates the entire ride.

February 1st: the long train back

Day 138

We checked out at noon, left our bags to pick up later. Our train was at 3:15 and it would be around 39 hours to Shanghai. The good news is we had lower berth soft sleepers, the poshest accomodation anyone could hope for, with Western toilet, privacy door, control over your lights (No one tells me what time to go to bed!) the works. Bad news: for 200 kuai cheaper we could have taken a plane that would have gotten us back in three hours. D'oh! Oh well. We'd be "suffering" in style, killing time in the lap of luxury.

It was mutually decided we should eat something conducive to a 39 hour train ride, so we gorged ourlselves on Pizza Hut. Bread and cheese would be kinder to our bowels than local spicier fare. We went through the underground market, picked up a few more gifts, hit the Hut, got our bags from the hotel, took a cab to the train station. Snacks had been obtained the day before: Pocky, Tomato Pretz and such.

The train station was a great thronging cattle crowd of holiday travelers, pressed in against each other, eating lu ji, spitting and smoking, all eyeing for the gate to change and open. We boarded, and our cabin was indeed very comfy, made comfier by the fact we had no upper neighbors. We wondered how long that would last. I caught up on writing, we drank, played cards, negotiated the heat to be turned off. It was on too high and since still coughing out Chengdu remnants, the dry-as-crackers hot air was torture.

Fatigue and the gentle rocking of the train called me to slumber's iradescent shores.