March 31st: long Thursday averted and first day of shorts

Day 196

My first class, the Ultraman class, was a delight as usual, but only set up my dread for the three in a row after lunch. I went to the plyaground, but no soccer and no kites. I went to the primary wing, no Erin. I went to the arts building. No free piano. I tried going to the roof of the administrative tower. The upper floors were locked.

So, I rode out to the "Aptach" canteen and got an ice cream bar. I was about topay for it and some smoker dude walked up and examined it, set it back down roughly. A little too roughly; I opened it and it was bashed apart. Good one, guy. I got another and started riding off, the sunshine causing it to melt with a quickness. I had to catch half of it in my hand, then haphazardly put it back on the stick to finish it. Some primary kids watched my ordeal with their foodholes hanging agape.

When I got back to my room, the phone rang. it was Rose saying I had no first class in the afternoon. Sweet news. Now I only had two classes to get through. Things were looking up. Rose called back in five minutes to say I had NO classes for the rest of the day. Best! I asked her why and she said something that sounded like "memorize the dead." I asked if it was tomb-sweeping day and she said no, repeated they had to "memorize the dead." I wasn't about to ask a third time. I had the day off, do I really need to know why?

I got my shorts out of mothballs, rode out to the middle school, got many giggles and pointings at my legs. To the Chinese eye, I must look like a satyr or perhaps Pan himself. I went to the roof and sunbathed for a while. Heather came up after her classes and we went to Times for highball supplies. It turns out Tang makes lemonade mix, so we got that and some iced tea for pickled golfers.

Mike joined us for a badminton tournament, but the wind was brutal. We decided it would be better to fly Jeni's kite. Heather and I took the field, raised the kite aloft, our treelong shadows trailing out behind us in the waning afternoon. Once the sun did its cannonball behind the skyline, we went back inside, had a long discussion on the gaps in science, coincidence vs. a "path" you meet halfway, choices as stepping stones, childhood memories that didn't happen in this lifetime, the silly human drama and how caught up in mortality we get, etc. I suspect I was getting perhaps too heavy for a Thursday night and brought the topic to something lighter just as Jeni came in.

We ate at the tree dumpling place (all but Mike who rode to KFC), then all piled into Heather's bed to watch "Monsters Inc." I think my brain was still reeling from the conversation earlier and I caught myself blanking out a few times. Eventually I was down for the count, surrendering to the confines of blanketdom.

RIP Mitch Hedberg

Sad Christmas: Mitch Hedberg died.

Crap.

If, like many, you don't know him, try this.

--montana--

yay for weird crimes

in China, no less.

Online Gamer Stabbed for Selling Cyber-Saber

BEIJING (Reuters) - A Shanghai online game player stabbed to death a competitor who sold his cyber-sword, the China Daily said Wednesday, creating a dilemma in China where no law exists for the ownership of virtual weapons.

Qiu Chengwei, 41, stabbed competitor Zhu Caoyuan repeatedly in the chest after
he was told Zhu had sold his "dragon saber," used in the popular online game, "Legend of Mir 3," the newspaper said a Shanghai court was told Tuesday.

"Legend of Mir 3" features heroes and villains, sorcerers and warriors, many of whom wield enormous swords.

Qiu and a friend jointly won their weapon last February, and lent it to Zhu who then sold it for 7,200 yuan (US$870), the newspaper said.

Qui went to the police to report the "theft" but was told the weapon was not real property protected by law.

"Zhu promised to hand over the cash but an angry Qui lost patience and attacked Zhu at his home, stabbing him in the left chest with great force and killing him," the court was told.

The newspaper did not specify the charge against Qiu but said he had given himself up to police and already pleaded guilty to "intentional injury."

No verdict has been announced.

More and more online gamers were seeking justice through the courts over stolen weapons and credits, the newspaper said.

"The armor and swords in games should be deemed as private property as players have to spend money and time for them," Wang Zongyu, an associate law professor at Beijing's Renmin University of China, was quoted as saying.

But other experts are calling for caution. "The 'assets' of one player could mean nothing to others as they are by nature just data created by game providers," a lawyer for a Shanghai-based Internet game company was quoted as saying.

smart.

i'm sure some churchy buttholes will make some point about playing devil games.

March 30th: parcels and Monkey defense

Day 195

Lessons went well, even the Junior 2 kids are getting into the song and they're well nigh impossible to enthuse. Jeni stopped by for tea again and we sat on the sunshiney stoop, chatted about stuff and things. I got a phone call, which is rare, and it turned out to be Jenn and Sara Jett. I sure love my friends. Sara was calling to make sure I was going to be back for her "moving to NY" party. She wants me to not only attend, but perform. I have a gig lined up already.

In between third and fourth class, I have an hour break, so I played soccer with some primary kids and thir fleet-footed PE coach. I wasn't able to shut down his advances as much as I'd liked, but then he had cleats and I didn't. The grass is slick.

After working up a good sweat, I had to go teach the Monkey and Harry class. Rose walked by and I thought she would say soemthing about my raggedy T-shirt appearance, so I tucked it in, put my sweater back on. I filled up my water bottle in the teacher's office and she told me, "I have your parcel on my desk." Awesome! I ran and got it, promised my students if they were good, I would open it at the end of class.

The "fool Mr. Willis" part of class lasted so long, we didn't even get to the song. Once they found out candy was doled out as a reward for fooling me with their lie, students were begging for another chance, especially Emnite (whom I named after M. Night Shyamalan which he resembles slightly.) I started opening the package at the end, which had maple nut goodies, a Napoleon Dynamite magnet (Tina! Eat your food!), water balloons, etc. but they mobbed me, so I put it away to the tune of their loud protesting.

At recess I had noticed Monkey crying. I tried to ask him what was wrong but he just looked down and shook his head. I think he gets picked on more than I had realized. I think for the students, the moniker "Monkey" is more teasing than nickname. At the end of class, I gave him a caramel apple sucker and the otehr students started holding their eager palms out. I told them, "Monkey is my favorite student. If you are nice to him, maybe I will give you something. He is very cool. you need to be nice to him, ok?" Monkey looked at the sucker, humbly said, "Thank you."

He always has a rascally grin, always says hi to me in the dining hall, sits and eats with me frequently. I even taught him to "hit the rock" (a kind of urban tuffguy handshake). Even though his English is limited, the little guy's trying, you know? It breaks my heart to think he's getting grief. By saying he's my favorite, I may run the risk of inadvertently causing more teasing his way, but that's only what American kids do. These kids are different, and plus I'm a badass teacher. My praise holds water.

I rode up to the middle school and we had a badminton tournament on the roof while Jeni played some Phillip Glass on her pipa. The wind certainly gave a handicap, and we played until dusk robbed us of the ability to distinguish shuttlecock from white paint and sky.

We went downstairs, had a couple highballs, walked to get Muslim noodles. Mike had too many scotch and Cokes, had to exit as the food smells and bright lights were muddying his buzz chi.

After dining, Heather, Jeni, and I watched "A Bug's Life" (first time for Heather) and then I pedaled home, listened to the new Zero Seven disc (cheers, Jenn) showered sweatcakedom off myself, curled the blanket over me like an ocean wave and plunged into dream aquatica.

Boy Scouts & child porn... Like Nel Carter and Twinkies

memorize this guy's face:

and then if you see him on the street, punch him in it.

Boy Scout director charged with having child porn

Organization 'dismayed and shocked ' by news

DALLAS, Texas - The national director of programs for the Boy Scouts of America has been charged with possession and distribution of child pornography, the U.S. Attorneys said Tuesday.

In charges filed by federal prosecutors on March 21, Douglas S. Smith Jr. was accused of receiving images over the Internet in February of children engaging in oral sex, intercourse and other sexually explicit conduct.

Sources in the U.S. Attorney's office told NBC that Smith, 61, was expected to plead guilty.

Law enforcement officials indicated the pictures did not show boys who were with the Boy Scouts organization, said Gregg Shields, national spokesman for the Boy Scouts of America, which is based in the Dallas suburb of Irving. He said Smith "was not in a leadership position which involved working directly with youth."

"We are dismayed and shocked to learn of this," Shields said in a statement. “Smith was employed by the Boy Scouts for 39 years and we had no indication of prior criminal activity.”

ugh. i sure hate people.

March 29th: fool lesson and youth chrysalis

Day 194

This week I'm teaching stuff about April Fool's Day, make the students tell me three things about themselves, 2 truths and 1 lie. If they fool Mr. Willis, they get a piece of candy. I had to strike the subject of sports, age, and relatives as options because that was just dumb. Tomorrow i may have to do the same with dogs, watching TV, and computer games.

A couple students gave an answer something to the effect of "I'm interested in killing people" and it wasn't the lie. Troubling. For the last part of the lesson, I teach them a silly song (that a fool would sing to a king and queen to make them happy) called the "Wishy Washy Washer Woman," a camp song classic of olde. It occured to me that I have all the skills necessary to be a camp counselor.

After classes, I played soccer with student Mike and his class, although it was bloody difficult to tell who was on what team since they all had a fondness for navy track jackets. More often than not, I passed to an opponent. Charlie was on my side, a heftier student by Chinese standards and every time I passed to him I couldn't help but bellow "Charlie Murphy!" in a Dave Chappelle voice. I was able to set him up for a goal one time that was a near-perfect reenactment of the time our team (Crystal Tissue from the S.A.Y. days) made it so Josh Hoag was able to score. Who'd have thought just kicking around with a bunch of Chinese teens would conjure such nostalgia?

The game was short-lived for me, as more people with soccerballs took the field, their games bleeding over into ours, balls from everywhere coming into play. When running downfield, my breakaway was ruined by getting clotheslined by some kitestring. Chaos. It was like the ADD Olympics all of a sudden. After that I had to be the authoritative eye, making sure my boys didn't get hurt, either by errant balls of downed kites or meteors or whatever else tried to get onto this peril-magnetic soccer field.

I rode up to the middle school and engaged Heather and Mike in frisbee, their field emptier both of students and grass. The wind was playing havoc, so it didn't last long. I went to Times for supplies to make pickled golfers. (A pickled golfer is gin, iced tea, and lemonade. An arnold Palmer with gin.) One snag: China doesn't believe in lemonade. I went with the old stand-by: orange juice.

Mike and I played badminton on the roof while the new drinkables chilled. We had enough daylight to get in a 20 minute volley, called it quits to wet our whistles. Ah, gin. It's been too long. There is no way to make martinis here either, though when I go to Nantong this Saturday, perhaps the Metro will have the crucial vermouth and olives.

Heather and I had tree dumplings and cucumbers, then I rode back to my place. Erin and I watched "The Truth About Charlie" then I went with her to the hotel, since getting in three rounds of exercise in one day had boosted my appetite some. I got a ham and cheese sandwich that came with those triangular potato wedges instead of fries. Talk about throwback to the grade school days: the smells of pencilwood and damp cardboard from miniature milk cartons, odd lunch business like salisbury steak, thinking of nothing better than getting home and watching cartoons like Woody Woodpecker eating an oatmeal creme pie, maybe playing some Atari. (Is my age showing?)

We rode back, I downloaded a new Radiohead song, listened to it a few times before retiring, my head awash in nostalgia. That young man is still in me and that ethereal bridge between the inhibited, quiet "shy me" and the present lunatic artist "confident me" was almost visible. I'm still not sure exactly what age it happened or what event caused it, and perhaps the metamorphosis was too subtle to pinpoint. I'm thankful for whatever triggered it. Had I remained that taciturn meekling, I would have missed out on hundreds of adventures, including this one.

Miss McDonald's LiveJournal

check it. miss mcdonald loves the Ronald McDonald character design, and posts pics of herself wearing this costume.

it's a bit unsettling, but you can see that it's not some weird fetish thing. i can identify; i'm a big fan of buckethead, and his own character design is quite good.

March 28th: badminton on the roof and gutrot on a stick

Day 193

Woke, wrote, caffeinated myself, ate lunch in the dining hall, rode out to see about buying an old skool soccer ball, but it was 2.5 times more expensive than the other ones. Apparently traditional ones are a collector's item now. I rode to the DVD place, exchanged two with no English options for two Pixar films.

The day was brilliantly sunny, so ofcourse I went to the music shop to practice the catalogue. I think I finally have the chorus to "Sober Me Up" sounding solid. Afterwards, I went to the middle school, went with Mike to Times to go soccer ball shopping, and ended up getting outfitted with badminton, the most modestly priced set.

On the way out, we got meat-on-a-stick, my first try of the stuff. We played on the roof, laughing our asses off at the shuttlecock's refusal to be killed. We would hit it as hard as we could and it would still gently float down. It took some getting used to. A few times the 'cock went over the side and we watched as students tried to throw it back to us in vain. One kid was very clever and put a rock inside to give it weight and was able to throw it into Andy's window.

We played until the sun went down, watching as the cheap racquets disintegrated with the force of our blows. Oh well. They were maybe 50 cents US. Heather had taken a bike ride into the country and gotten strawberries. We went into her room and had some before pedaling to the hotel for sustenance. Mike had his heart set on a chicken sandwich, but they had none that night. He finished his beer and went on to KFC.

We sat for a long time waiting for Heather's sandwich and while we sat, my body began to reject the meat-on-stick from earlier, with a vengeance. I excused myself to the WC, bless the hotel for having Western toilets. I sat and felt like a manager seeing an unpleasant guest out the door.

Me: "Ok, thank you, meat-on-stick, for trying us out. I'm sorry we weren't to your liking..."
M.O.S.: "Well, I never...."
Me: "Once again, we're very sorry..."
M.O.S.: "I'll never stay here again. I can't believe (grumble grumble)
Me: "Ok, I hope you find better accomodation somewhere else..."
M.O.S.: "I'm going to write a letter to the owner..."
Me: "Would you just LEAVE?! We don't want you in here either!!!!"

Then I realized there was no toilet paper. Oh god, no. They have these little steel canisters that make it impossible to see if there's any in there and I hadn't the time to check beforehand. I entertained the idea that if I sat there long enough, the girls would send Rhys in to check on me and I could have him pass soem TP under the door. But no, that might take a while. I decided to duckwalk to the next stall, but then some guy came in and started barking into a cell phone.

I stood at the ready by the door, but when he left, another gent came in. Gah!!!! When he left, I swiftly moved to the next stall with spy prowess and finally was able to finish my toilet. Relieved and spent, I rejoined my friends at the table and we finished our drinks, left.

The beautiful day was gone and a damp, windy haze was left in its place. I pedaled back to my place, found a bag of strawbereies on my door. Heather is a sneaky fruit fairy. Erin and I watched "Night Shift" and then mutually turned in. I dreamt about some weird boat cruise and I was floating in an inner tube swirling in a rapid eddy somewhere near Albany. Erin and some woman who was our cabinmate collected me in the lifeboat and we all got back on the ship. Weird.

March 27th: Easter and mallization

Day 192

After the morning routine of coffee and writing, I rode out to meet Heather and Mike for noodles at the sausage place (next door to the sheep place.) On the way over, I noticed Dongzhou Park had a smattering of kites on display outside, so after gestation we rode over to browse. It came down between two kites: an eagle (with fun flapping feathers and slatted wings) or one with a tremendously long tail but had a distinctly Elmo-looking face emblazoned on it. The eagle was nice, but I wanted something more Chinese, and with a tail.

We rode to the park by the river, which my students had tipped as a hotbed of uncensored kite action. They lied. A mother told us of a small shop nearby to the West where she procured hers. We rode in a wide circle over the bridges, found nothing. We stopped by a mom-n-pop that had a couple ratty-looking kites hanging in the doorway, shrugged, bought an ice cream. There was no wind anyway, so even if we had bought the perfect kite, there was balls-all we could do about it that day.

We pedaled back, prepared the egg-dyeing activity for Heather's students. I was somehow made chief alchemist measurer, eyeballing 2 tablespoons of vinegar, half a cup of water and such, without the aid of lined cookware. The bike ride and overcast front rolling in sapped my strength, but luckily Heather's students were mellow and their energy wasn't too suffocating. After a while they wanted to combine colors so I had to protect the yellow by keeping an egg in there, guarding it with the palm of Fatima.

The eggs weren't white to begin with, and it gave the colors strong earth tones: Moab dirt red, sulphur yellow, asthmatic robin blue, etc. Towards the end of the proceedings, they became more interested in putting candy in the vinegar dye and eating it. Chinese kids.

They left as quickly as they came, and as quietly. After cleaning the platic bags off the tables, Heather, Mike, Andy (self-invited) and I walked to an outdoor walking shopping center under the shadow of the TV tower. Expansive mazes of shopfronts-to-be, needless and bewildering. If the shops in Haimen can't stay open as it is, what hope does this new bumper crop hope to achieve? The novelty of buying the same old shit in a new plaza will wear off after a bit and then you have a big concrete temple to failure where a field once stood; a field that could have been used for cropland, shortages of which are always being reported in the papers. It all made me a little depressed. Rampant spending and development without forethought is the recipe for disaster. China is spreading itself too thin, as the gambler at the roulette table who constantly bets everything with each spin, who's begging for a cosmic lesson with anchor-dropping ferocity, China is scrambling to put its head and economy under the looming shadow, thinking the shade is enjoyable and safe.

After Mike and Andy nought some liquor, we walked back through the emptiness of Haimen's next great shopping hope. Heather, Jeni, a freshly-shaved Rhys and I dined at the tents. I think Heather and I were having a joint sugar crash from the jellybeans, cookies and cakes at Easter egg fest earlier. Our chopsticks were practically needed to prop up our chins.

I rode back to my place, gave Erin and Matt some Kedu wine, and we watched "Shaun of the Dead," which brightened my spirits. Nothing like a little British zombie comedy to chase the world's woes out of my skull however temporarily. Tucking myself into my bunk, I dreamt of high school reunions.

March 26th: more soccer and unicorns

Day 191

Wrote, showered, and it became 3:30 before I realized it. I rode to the hotel for "Dish for People with Strong Taste" and after a longisd wait, brought all the courses at once. I hurriedly ate it so I could make it to the soccer field. My student Mike from Thursday classes told me they would be playing at 4.

I rode back and found the field overrun with kite flyers. I watched and students filed past, making comments about my lack of beard. "Yeah. Boo yao hoozi!" I told them. I ran into Harry and asked him about getting a football and he led me to the PE teacher. He gave me one under the condition I return it by 5pm. I coerced Harry and his cohort to abandon their basketball plans to join me in some soccer.

My efforts to get a group together worked a little too well. I went from five boys to 30 as all the kiteflyers mobbed me and soon I was overrun with chattering excite youths who wouldn't line up or form teams. I shrugged, tossed the ball into the fray and hoped by some cosmic chance that something resembling a game would form. Eventually it did when kiteflyers resumed their activity and some burgeoning rain weeded out the casual football enthusiasts.

Kids kept changing sides and teams at a hat drop, and no one was doing throw-ins to get the ball back into play, but somehow it all got sorted. It did make it difficult to pass the ball, not knowing if the lad was friend or foe that minute. The rain made the field slick, and I nearly ate shit when I slid. I caught myself with my left hand and managed to keep both trousers and jacket dry.

5pm, and thus dinner time came and I lost my players en masse. The rain was pissing on the proceedings anyway. I rode up to Dongzhou and then to the DVD store with Heather, picked up a few watchables (hopefully).

We had some wine, went for Muslim noodles where an extended infomercial on herbal breast enhancement was playing. Afterwards, Jeni, Heather and I watched "The Last Unicorn" which I only bought because I thought Jeni had mentioned it. I am on crack. She knows nothing about the film, nor has her name ever been Lori. If you've never seen "The Last Unicorn," she's not the last unicorn, merely the only one who hasn't been caught and forced to float in the ocean for a sullen king's amusement. At one point a magician is nearly smothered in an anthropomorphic tree's cleavage, the scene that Jeni came in on.

We got through five minutes of "Convoy" (whoof) before deciding on "Shrek" which we wouldn't have cared about passing out to since we'd all seen it numerous times. I was lulled to the shores of sleep via red wine's dulcet lullabye.

2005/03/25: NYC, part 1

here's the first installment of my NYC trip. i didn't really take many pictures, but i'll put up the ones i did get.

i got up friday morning, and sara picked me up in her car at 7am. we needed to be in dayton by 8am, so that her dad could take her car in to get an estimate on some damage, so to meet him by 8 means we leave early. we arrived at his place and he took us over to her mom's, where we each promptly napped a few hours. i slept particularly well, apparently, because while i was asleep, (a) a new refrigerator was delivered, (b) the furnace guyts banged around and power drilled the crap out of something, (c) some sort of wild animal was scrabbling about in the attic space, and (d) the wild animal wrangler was searching for said wild animal.

no problem for me, though: i slept through it.

the three of us made a lunch stop at Friendly's, where we did not have a reese's sundae. then on to the airport, where we got our boarding passes, emptied our pockets, removed our shoes, and waited for the lady to look through my backpack. she couldn't tell what was in it with xray machine, since i had SO MANY METAL OBJECTS in there: discman, palm pilot, spare batteries, watch, cellphone, etc. sigh.

then began the Time of Long Waiting (tm). our flight, due to the inclement weather, was delayed by an hour, so that by the time we arrived at laguardia, we were behind schedule. we didnt really have a schedule, mind you, it was just the principle of the thing.

the original plan (which was somewhat ingenious) was that eddie (see pic, stolen from a website because i never got to take one of him the whole weekend) left a spare set of keys and a copy of my ID nextdoor at a business, the Polish Gazette, which has someone there 24 hours. theoretically, this would free him (and his roommates) from needing to be at his apartment, where we'd be staying for the bulk of the weekend. this was good, as eddie would be working that night (and, as it turns out, nearly the entire weekend).

however, the flaw in the plan was that the polish gazette actually lost his keys (and, presumably, my id...), so when we landed an hour late, i had a message on my phone from eddie explaining the situation, and that his girlfriend stockton (who is one of his four roommates) would be at home when we arrived.

we took a cab to eddie's apartment in williamsburg, and stockton let us in. we met tobias and anna, two more of eddie's roommates. they're german, and i found out later that anna was high school friends with one of my favorite german rappers, ferris mc. small world.

stockton was quite helpful, despite having worked solidly for a few days with no sleep. she loaned us her keys, gave us maps, and recommended a few vegetarian-friendly restaurants for us. we ventured back out, with another cab, since we weren't ready to tackle the subwayon an empty stomach.

only a few minutes later we were eating at vera cruz, a great mexican restaurant on bedford. as the review says, it was very nicely priced, and quite good. i got vegetarian enchiladas, and sara got a vegetarian burrito. both were great, though sara likes her food to be a bit less spicy.

satisfied, we walked along bedford, just enjoying being in new york city. it being friday night, the hipsters were out in full force, really reminding me that a lot of the rockers in cincinnati just want to live in nyc. then again, so do i, so i guess i shouldn't talk.

we stumbled on a cool coffee shop called The Read, where david and i had sat enjoying the coffee and mocha back in june. sara and i sat, me with my mocha and her with her hot chocolate. i flipped through the village voice, mainly checking for must-see shows that weekend. there weren't any, but i definitely had wanted to check.

the read closed at 11, so we were back out, ready for the subway this time. it was really very simple, just two stops on the L train, but you never know. we did it just fine, buying 7 day passes so that we wouldn't have to worry about it again all weekend.

once back at eddie's, we opted to stay in, as we were quite tired from the trip. we met keith, eddie's 4th and final roommate. he was, as all of the roommates were, quite nice, and we chatted with him for a while before crashing out.

March 25th: kite quest and beard funeral

Day 190

Friday once again arrived on swift wings. Classes went well. After lunch Jeni stopped by for tea and then we went on a quest for kites. We rode up to Dongzhou Park, as per my students' advice.

I was unable to find one with a long majestic tail, but Jeni got one with a fu manchu beard and Chinese opera face. Very cool, colorful. We attracted a gaggle of onlookers, including one chap who knew enough English and pantomime to harp on us about locking our bicycles even though they were in plain sight. We relented, if anything to shut him up, proceeded with our kite business.

To transport it back, I stuck the kite in my backpack and it hung over my left shoulder like a cannon barrel. I rode past people closely, "inadvertently" poking the end of the kite in their face, cracking myself up. We got to the field and were mobbed by primary kids all giving their two cents in Chinese about how to fly it.

The wind was terrifically strong. No sprint was needed to get it in the air. The effort was in reeling the bastard in, and Jeni was hearty. She may have discovered heretofore unknown seafaring skills in herself. I had to cut kite time off to teach the last two classes, and after those I did something drastic: I executed the beard with extreme prejudice.

The main reason is this: there was a patch near my chin that was brittle and kept breaking off. The longer the rest got, the more it would look like I had mange. A 9 month beard would have been cool, but not with a huge hole in it. For chrissakes, I was starting to do a beard combover in the mornings! Times supermarket has shaving cream now, so I won't be marooned in stubbleville.

It also occurred to me I might have been subconsciously "hiding" in the beard. How brave am I in a strange new country where uniquely "me" things such as my dimples are safely bunkered? Call it a Samson test. Also, I'm in China and can get away with the most ridiculous facial hair ever. Why limit myself to a beard? I can rock a handlebar mustache, muttonchop sideburns, whatever tickles my fancy. I'll be stared at with equal curiosity. Plus, when the weather turns warm I won't be uncomfortable, nor have a fucked-up tanline. (I won't get hassled at airport security now either.) So, apologies if I let anyone down who wanted to see it in the flesh. I didn't want to be Mangeboy.

All of us (even Andy) went to the sheep place for la zi ji ding and we let off fireworks on the way there; those whizzing bombers with report. All six went off, huzzah! We feasted, listened to a rockabilly sampler I'd brought along, swapped student stories. Mike, Andy and I ganbei'd a pepper at the end that left us euphoric afterwards. We got some ice cream on the way back and mine had a corn-shaped, corn-flavored cone wrapped around it that actually wasn't too bad. Andy swore his mushed pea popsicle was decent but I didn't try it.

Another batch of fireworks were bunk, so Mike and I took them back to dude and he gave us a fresh box. This time, all of them worked. Happiness. Jeni, Heather and I had wine and chocolate, watched Ice Age. We had originally planned on going to the club, but somehow an hour and a half got devoured on the way back to the school and the club would have been closed. I quickly became a bed burrito.

March 24th: authority issues and soccer

Day 189

The Ultraman class was delightful as usual. I showed them the St.Patricks' Day picture (since last Thursday classes missed out) and when I pointed out Tom Willis, they went nuts. "Oh, very cool!" They held up their notebooks with the Paperback stickers on them and cheered. Some told me they've been going to the website. Get your visas, boys. Looks like you may have to tour here. The power went out for the last part of class, so I lost my overhead projector abilities. I held up the pictures of the vocab "over my head", so I guess I was still overhead projecting.

After lunch, the power was still out and I was going batshit from boredom. I risked going over to the arts building to play piano, and luckily found a room open. I played both albums and started redoing a couple songs when Feng Jao Li came in. I asked her (in grunts and pantomimes) about my dictionary and she said she'd have it tomorrow. From the awkward non-exchange that one could file under communication in a Dian Fossey environment, it's evident she's not using it anyway.

The next class was very bad. Everyone was chiseling away at little stone obelisks with scalpels, some sort of art class project and I had to stop class, tell everyone to out them away or else they became Mr. Willis's. Not a minute later, a kid in the back was back, chiseling away. I went back, demanded he give it to me, and he pretended he had nothing, pointed to his eraser. I took that, went back to the front of the class, sighed in disgust. One student said, "Don't cry." That cut it. I wrote on the board, "20 lucky things." After telling them to shut up, I ordered them to take out a piece of paper and write down 20 things that are lucky. They sat quietly and I was able to have some peace and order. My dude in the back wasn't writing anything and made it clear he wasn't about to. I told him, "You have not written anything. You do not want to be in this class, so you must leave the class. Go to the teacher's office." He avoided eye contact in hopes that would thwart me. I got in his face, said, "Go to the teacher's office. Now." He had the nerve to tell me "No."

"Ok." I went out of the room to the next class and motioned for the teacher to come over. I'm not sure she understood what I was saying ("I have a very bad student. Can you take him to the office?") but followed and nodded anyway. She stuck her head in the window and the kids filled her in via pu tong hua. She exchanged a few lines with the bad kid and then he got up and went out. There was a barely audible "ohhhh" from the other kids. "Now,"I said, "Anyone else want to be bad?" No one else wanted to be bad. They started turning in their lists of lucky things. Some kids had the right idea and had curious concepts of good fortune: "Bring Bush to tea," "Bush cooks for me," "play with snow," "drink seawater." Most of the class missed the point and just made lists of English words: monkey, sheep, flowers, matchbox, lantern; the strangest of which was "luster." Reading and laughing at these got me in a good mood.

My next class was all about "play football." I told them if they were good, we would go out and play football. They were, and we sped through the lesson and we went out to the field. They kept saying things in Chinese that I knew to be "pass to the lao wei" and I kept correcting them,"Boo shir lao wei. I am peng you or may guo ren. Lao wei is bad." They kept letting it slip. It was fun playing soccer again and a comfort to know my skills were still there even if the energy is decreased. I still know how to trap, dribble, and I got in a midfield header. I'd say my years of hackey-sacking improved my skills, too. Crazy. Were it not for the language barrier, I'd love to be their soccer coach. Right now, they mostly have enthusiasm. A few fundamentals and drills could get them decent.

The power came back for the last class, so I had overhead capabilities again. Another long Thursday put to bed. Huzzah! I rode up to Dongzhou, collected Heather and we went to the music shop so I could get in some more "playing in front of other people" time. The light didn't work, and I was running out of daylight.The last two songs I played through squinted eyes. We went to Kedu for more wine and such, and to write down the funny Chinglish on certain products. Some highlights: "That is the best laugh with someone because you both think the same thing is funny." "Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with." and lastly, these sound eerily like Fudgie and Fufu lyrics: "We like the new taste. We need the quality. And we need the best food. You will find what you want. Cool fashion need cool taste. You are the new man. How delicious and can not fotget (sic), special taste, return the turn falvour (sic)--."


Rhys, Jeni, Heather and I had tree dumplings for dinner. When I was attempting to pay, a guy berhind the counter noticed my wallet and I pointed it to him, said "Eat My shorts." He nodded, repeated "Eat My Shorts" with a quiet reverence that we all found hilarious. (For those of you who don't know my eccentricities, I make wallets out of cereal boxes and my current one is made from "Eat My Shorts" cereal, a Simpsons cereal I found in the UK, featuring syrup-flavored multi-grained shorts.) When we sat to eat, I went over and ganbei'd him by declaring "Eat my shorts." The only problem was, it wasn't him. I toasted some starnger an inside joke I'd made with another gentleman. A few minutes later, he sent his son over with a tiny glass of beer and hetold us, "Next year I will go to Dongzhou. I look forward to learning from you. I hope we will be good friends." Cute. But now we had to be on our best behavior.

Afterwards we drank wine and watched "Napoleon Dynamite" again, laughed ourselves silly. Tiredness and wine spun me in its soporific web and soon I was fast asleep.

my VP's cellphone ring, and its effects on me

so, i don't normally even mention work on here, as i'd rather not get dooced. However, i think this is worth a mention, and totally not about work, so i'm safe.

i sit sort of next to the VP over my area. he just got a new cellphone in the last month or so, i think, because suddenly i've been hearing his various ringtones, which i didn't hear before, and i've been sitting close by him since like november.

anyway, his newest ring is this little ding-dong sort of ring that reminds me of the tone and the first couple notes of the Fudgie & Fufu classic "Surrender Your Panties".

apparently, though, it puts the song in my head. not a good thing at work, especially since, on a conscious level, i block it out. now what happens is this: (a) the phone rings, (b) i hear it or not, depending on whether i'm tuning out my surroundings at the time, (c) unbeknownst to me, the song gets stuck in my head, (d) i'm wandering around the office singing "you gave me not one cookie but three" and "all i wanted from you was a roll in the hay".

damn you fudgie & fufu.

March 23rd: kites and Kedu vultures

Day 188

Padding the lesson with St. Patty's review helps, along with the mouse/mouth drills. I now make them say the ridiculous sentence "There is a mouse in my mouth." I also had to work on cup/cap, really nail the vowel sounds, make them different. One class was really excited about flying kites, so we sped through the lesson and went out to the field the last ten minutes of class. I wanted to reward them for being good and using English.

They had some really unique kite designs and told me I could buy them at Dongzhou Park. I might try to pick one up this week, one with a fantastically long tail.

After classes, I rode up to the middle school. Heather, Jeni and I went to Kedu for discounted wine and tea bisquits. While in the wine aisle, one woman was inquiring about a wine I knew to be bunk and I was finally able to use my favorite Chinese phrase in context: (phonetic spelling) "Jigga bee nigga how" which means "This one is better than that one." She thanked me, said my Chinese was very good while Heather just giggled herself silly.

On the way out of the store, we saw a woman's sweatshirt which curiously read: "The more it does, the more the taste comes out." Ah, China; ever the wellspring of accidental humor. We ate at the tents, got the usual fried rice and hash brown thing. Mr. Yeah was sadly absent. Ever since I took a picture with him, he seems to have vanished.

Afterwards, Mike and I went to Times in search of bourbon, but all they had was Scotch. We tried in vain to think of the other liquor for a Rusty Nail before shrugging and planning a weekend jag to Nantong for more Wild Turkey.

Heather, Jeni, and I watched "The Ninth Configuration" and had wine. It was even better the second time. I absorbed the film on a different level and it was supremely satisfying. I gave a lecture on the history and merits of Love and Rockets, gathered my procured goodies from Kedu and pedaled home, dreading my looming long Thursday. Sleep came like a chloroform-soaked handkerchief.

pratt and brats

So it's been awhile, yes. Well I made it in to Pratt and I'm shocked and happy. . . . . . and terrified and excited. I leave I think for NY at the beginning of august so Aaron you need to get your ass home before then. I have photos for you. Aaron email me. And where hats in June. I like socks and skeleton mittens and Kittens with gloves. Aaron seriosly email me.

Hearts to the fans!

The Best 90 Minutes of My Life

The Best 90 Minutes of My Life

Thurston Moore wrote a nice article about the power of mix tapes, and touches briefly on their relationship to modern mp3/cdr trading.

inadvertent gmail humor

this made me laugh like you would not believe just now:

yes, i'm a simple man. making fun of my brother does it for me, i guess. ;)

by the way, if you have your resolution set

to 800x600, you probably can't read the blog

now. sorry about your luck. you shouldn't

have it set there, anyway. ;)

March 22nd: Easter lesson and S vs TH

Day 187

This week is the Easter lesson, which I thought was going to be gangbusters. With the first class, I got through everything and still had half the classtime to fill. I tried to find an online Easter game we could all play and I ran out the clock doing that. I worked on pronunciation for the second class and filled the time better. After lunch I got the St. Patrick's Day pictures from last week and added a "review" period at the beginning of the lesson to eat up time and practice their comprehension.

Jeni dropped by for tea, then got hit hard with a napping fit. She grabbed some winks while I wrote and listened to Ben Neill's "Tryptical." I woke her at quarter after one, and she dashed off to class.

In the apathy crew, one kid told me he would hide the Easter eggs in "his mouse." I drew a mouse on the board and looked at him puzzledly. He pointed at his mouth. "Ah," I said, "Mouth." He wouldn't say it correctly. Then he wouldn't say it at all. He stood and banged his ruler on the desk and looked around thinking I would get bored and move on. He was wrong. My job is to get students to speak correctly. I took a chair and waited for him to say it up until the bell rang. "S" and "TH" are not interchangeable. Let's say he went to America and told a girl he was going to "pleasure her with his mouse." This could cause some problems. Either she'd leave the room in a huff, or excitedly grab some PVC pipe from under the bed, but either way, our little friend said something he didn't mean.

Dinner was a little unsatisfying, so I got some vegetable snacks with "black pepper taste" and some peanut butter/chocolate Oreos (does Terry Willis know of these?) and ate them all. It was the damned MSG, I couldn't stop eating. For the next couple of hours I felt the food as a rock in the center of my chest.

I rode up to Dongzhou around 8ish to join Jeni and Rhys at dinner (not to eat, mind you). We sat at the blue pacman place and were subjected to a kung fu TV show that was more full of verbal-sparring than actual combat. Lots of "ha-ha-has" and head-throwing back. If I could write in Chinese, I would send a letter to the producers: "More whupass, less posturing. More Karo syrup trickling from the corners of mouths and less laughing. K? K."

Rhys and I went to Kedu, which rumor has it is closing. The shelves were half-full and people swarmed the check-out queues. Apparently, everyone had heard of the 25% storewide discount. I picked up some coffee for Erin, then headed across the street for sugar at Times. The dude wouldn't let me in with my backpack. There were no more lockers to put it in, and beyond that, Rhys and I are the most conspicuous men in Haimen. With eyes on us at all times, what could I hope to shoplift? I left the bag with the liquor counter girl and we made our rounds.

I dropped some juice off for Heather, who had been asleep all but four hours that day. She's a bit under the weather, poor lamb. I rode back, gave Erin her coffee and DVD player. She had been stricken with napping fits today as well. Perhaps this is where all the women will give birth to weird platinum-haired children with spooky powers like "Village of the Damned."

I wrote for a bit, retired to my cozy bunk.

I told you she was going to Moab

i hope that image shows. let me know if it doesn't.

March 21st: rainy bends and the Ninth Configuration

Day 186

The turned cold and damp again. My heater was wonked so I kept drinking tea to stay warm. I spent the first part of the day listening to the Bubbles in the Think Tank audio stream from Cincinnati. Very odd to listen to a midnight radio show at 1pm, half a globe away, hear my friends' voices broadcast. Globalization is such a headscrew sometimes. I got a shoutout from JF, though more of a good-humored roast: "....I did 'Summer Nights' karaoke with stupid McDeviltoast..."

I then chatted online with Montana, watched videos of people hurting themselves. I turned on "The Ninth Configuration" which was a very odd and engrossing film, with hilarious dialogue: "I'm afraid the end of the world has come for the bag of Fritos in my pocket." "What if God is just an all-powerful, all-knowing foot? Can you prove there's a Foot?" "God should either shit or get off the pot. There's a long line of diuretic gods waiting their turn." It's written and directed by William Peter Blatty and is a "theoretic thriller" in comedy's clothing, taking place at an asylum for deranged Vietnam vets. I need to watch it again.

When night fell, I rode out to Dongzhou, for human company more than nourishment, since I had already had a bried repast at the dining hall. When I arrived they were still engaged in the battle of who could be the biggest dining martyr ("Oh, I don't care where we eat, you decide.") so I, the least hungry one declared Muslim noodles to be the evening's feature. I wasn't in the best mood from riding in cold and rain, but I managed not to take it out on anyone. What good is it being angry at the weather? It doesn't affect the outcome whatsoever, and no one can predict exactly what it will do.

Jeni asked me what was wrong at dinner and I told her it was barometric bends, something I hadn't really realized until I said it aloud. Just knowing a symptomis physical and not mental is enough to change one's mood. ("Of course you're angry, Mr. Phelps. You have three broken ribs." "You mean I'm anot a rageaholic nutball?")

Afterwards we hung out in Heather's room, had a nightcap, some baked goods and ice cream (comfort foods to be sure). We listened to The Beach soundtrack which always conjures vivid memories of Moab: the sunny days where clouds looked painted on a window pane, driving along the winding river road to Castle Valley, hiking in Arches, looking up at the stars by myself outside of a party smiling and taking mental snapshots, all the faces and accompanying laughter of my extended desert family, the scent of sage, Bill Viavant telling stories, the way the red cliffsides gleam like a penny in the blazing sunset, the vastness of sky, the quiet, the blanketing peace that fills my heart to bursting. I can't wait to be there again even if it's only for an all-too-brief two weeks.

I rode home with a buoyant heart and a flood of images before my eyes. I pecked away at my computer nostalgic and sighing until I folded myself into a blanket cocoon, shut my eyes and let the slideshow take over.

03/20/2005: cleaning, billy connelly, and steamboy

I saw the Haywards last night, as I mentioned in the last blog entry. I was a bit displeased -- I probably shouldn't have gone. There are a couple reasons.

First, Greg (the drummer) was playing a full drum kit, which David never let me do. Second, they played a cover, which David was always reluctant to do when we played. Third, and most important in my mind: they rocked out. Dammit, every time I got the least bit "rocking", David always chastised me. Grr. Oh well. I'll just start a metal band with Tom Willis and rock out ALL the time.

I didn't do much interesting today at all. I made a quick store run to pick up a few food items (mostly cereal), and came back and ate those food items. I started again on the apartment organization, which will take a while but will be necessary for when the Toast moves in.
I started to watch THX 1138, but after about 10 minutes I realized I wasn't in the mood, so I watched a two hour live standup show of Billy Connely's in Ireland from a couple years back. That guy kills me; I was laughing out loud a LOT. I wish I knew more about vcd/dvd/mpg editing, so I could have saved it, but the file was much too large and long.

I also went to the esquire to see Steamboy, the latest anime film from the guy who directed Akira. It was good, with loads of action and though the physics were a bit off, it was at least enjoyable. The concept of steam engines powering huge machinery was pretty cool. It did make me want to watch Akira again, though.

I went home, and while purchasing gas I realized I'd left my debit card at Crush last night from when I'd opened a tab. After a quick jaunt downtown to retrieve it, I spent a couple hours chatting with the Toast, watching weird videos on the interntet, and just generally relaxing.

I'm heading to NYC this coming weekend, so this may be my last chance to relax.

here's one for stAllio, to remind him how cool Indiana really is.

Pet store owner: Satan's image on turtle's shell

March 20th: the revenge of Pat Benatar

Day 185

Rode back, caught up on riding, showered, rode back to Dongzhou. Got some tree dumplings with Heather, then she, Rhys and I went to the music shop. Rhys canceled his erhu lessons, I went upstairs to practice. They had switched pianos on me and this one was drony and muffled. While playing I got a brilliant idea.

For some reason I decided to find a practical use for the Icy Mint Sprite. It occured to me that one could use it as a base for mohitos, thereby eliminating the need for soda water, sugar, and mint leaves. We could mottle some strawberries, add rum and it would be on. I ran to Times and picked up some Icy Mint and some Sprite On Fire. (I wanted to test another theory.)

I played guitar on the roof and caught some rays for a bit, waiting for the soda to get cold. No clouds spoiled the sun, but the wind made the temperature plummet. Heather got back and we tested the mohito, it was a success. Then I had the not-so-brilliant-in-hindsight idea to combine Icy Mint and On Fire with rum, inventing a highball called a Pat Benatar (after her song Fire and Ice). Curious tasting. I didn't hate it, but I'm not sure if I liked it.

Mike collected us at five 'til six. Apparently some gent who was interested in learning English was treating him to dinner and he said the more foreigners the merrier. I chugged the second Pat Benatar and soon regretted it. The gent and his female assistant Ada met us at the gate, drove us to Shishan Lu, went inside a fairly upscale restaurant. We sat and my stomach was tying itself in knots. I cringed and tried and took deep breaths, eventually had to excuse myself to the bathroom.

The last time I had felt something like this was my 21st birthday. Sarah Peters took me into Uncle Woody's and ordered a couple mint juleps. It's always a bad sign when the bartender has to look something up in the rolodex to see how to make it. I drank it a little too fast, and it was too sweet and minty. I was soon flat out on my back in the booth, looking like John Hurt in Alien, wishing the pain would stop. Water and a burnt quesadilla fixed me up that time. Dilution is the solution.

I had drunk my tea and decimated half the peanuts before I left for the bathroom, so I just had to wait it out. I kept entertaining the idea of splashing cold water on my face, but then my beard would be wet. When I returned to the table, I rode out a few more minutes and then the knot untied in my guts and I was fine. The food came: bowls of mutton, chicken, duck's blood and squid feelers in spicy broth, water chestnuts and mushrooms, tomato and egg soup, and a crab. I picked at it, since the guy who brought it opened it for me, and I felt obliged. Orange meat, similar in flavor and texture to a sweet potato.

After the dinner, we went back to Dongzhou, sent a cab to collect Erin and Matt at the experimental school, got a crate of Tsingtao, watched "Team America: World Police" and laughed ourselves silly.

The phrase "Don't take any wooden nickels" ran incessantly through my dreams.

March 19th: blue sky Saturday

Day 184

Woke, had some coffee and watched "Night Shift," one of my favorite Michael Keaton films. ("This is Chuck to remind Bill to shut.... UP!") Heather and I walked to Royal Young Coffee for company sandwich and take advantage of our VIP card, the discount for which was barely noticeable.

The day was gorgeous, blue skies and sun, but a little windy. It soured our frisbee plans. After throwing it around in the frustrating resistance, we gave up, decided to get some sun on the roof. After four minutes of that, some beautiful mattress cotton clouds blew in and smothered the rays. "Ok," I said. "What's plan C?"

That involved bread and cheese, having some highballs. I procured some On Fire Sprite (the arch-villain of Icy Mint Sprite) and mixed it with vodka. It tasted like slightly cinnamon ginger ale, a beverage made for Terry Willis if I ever saw one. (The man loves cinnamon almost as much as peanut butter, but I'd be surprised, and revolted, if I found Peanut Butter Sprite)

Mike, Heather and I ate at the Blue Pacman. I had some benign noodles since my stomach is still gunshy about fried dumplings ever since Guiyang. Afterwards we got some fireworks and I let one off in front of the store (at the shopowner's behest, mind you) and it was a whizzing banger that careened right back into the store and exploded against a massive set of finale-size boxes. That could have been the most dazzling and dangerous thing to ever witness. The shopowner casually stomped out the sparks, moved the box aside, and everything was kosher.

We went back to the school, decided we needed more fireworks and went back. We let some off out front of Kedu, but a few of them didn't ignite at all. It was slightly drizzling rain, which mildly dampened the proceedings. Passing by the tents, we learned there would be no more pumpkin cakes, for they were out of season. Sad Xmas.

Started to watch "The Ninth Configuration," but sleep won the battle for my attention.

2005/03/19: things and stuff

jf had driven me home last night, as i'd had quite a few very tall shots of vodka at wooley's, and so we'd made lunch plans for today, so i could get a ride back to my car.

we had lunch at jimmie john's, where i pretty much get one thing: #13, which i believe is called the vegetarian gourmet sandwich, or something like that. (a quick glance at their big Flash website reveals that it is the "gourmet veggie club".) of course, the cucumbers were left off, as i'm of the opinion that if adding vinegar to something makes it better (i.e., cucumbers » pickles), then i dont like it.

the sprouts on the sandwich smelled very "sprouty", reminding me of our practice space, a warehouse-type building where sprouts are grown on the first floor. the smell is intense, so strong that it doesn't smell like food.

i had their salt & vinegar chips, which i couldn't finish, as they were more salt & vinegar than chip. i held one up for jf to look at, and the smell from it made her eyes water. they were good, though.

she dropped me off at my car, and i went over the river to barnes & noble to pick up an italian phrase book, to suplement the italian audio lessons i'm listening to in the car. additionally, i picked up velvet goldmine and thx 1138 on dvd. i think i'll like velvet goldmine even more now that i'm a huge jobriath fan; apparently the film is heavily based on him, though the director, tood haynes, denies it. if it's not true, then explain this:

inner sleeve of velvet goldmine soundtrack


inner sleeve of jobriath's self-titled 1973 debut album

see any similarity? of course not. todd haynes didn't even know who jobriath was. (yeah right).

(pictures borrowed from a nice article on glam-ou-rama.co.uk.)

i'm going to see the haywards tonight. i used to play drums/keys in that band for a year, so i'm curious what they sound like now.

i also need to talk to tom willis about starting up that metal band....

what about love?

so montana and i have re-established the excitement of experimental karaoke night.
singing U2 and the police and prince last night was sweet!


and the official word on the street is that we are taking our heart duets on the road.
we need to practice some oooooh barracuda.


my blogging has been slacking.
apologies.
i got lots of stuff going on.
all good.
and yet very time consuming.


ok.
going to eat lunch with montana & then off to crush tonight with baby kitty, montana and rockstartomwillis to see the david.

maybe a nap in between.

Mach 18th: a very bad class and a pepper ganbei

Day 183

First class of the day was intolerable. They kept talking, wouldn't shut up despite repeated pleadings. One kid kept shouting something mocking. One kid up front was texting on a mobile, others were reading books, nobody doing anything productive. A couple kids in the back said "Go home." That cut it for me. I stood outside and seethed for a couple minutes, went back in. I asked a now silent classroom if their Chinese English teachers told them to misbehave in my class, or if they were told my class wasn't important. They said no, but I think they were just trying to give an answer.

I left the class fifteen minutes early, left them to sit there in dread while I left a note for Rose telling how rotten they'd been. At the next class, Rose apologized, told me not to be upset, said she'd notified the head of the department. Ha! Those bastards would reap the whirlwind now.

The rest of the day went well by comparison. Had noodles at the Muslim place for lunch, Erin rode on the back of my bike. We watched a horrendous car accident on the way up. This old man's antique stool fell off the back of his bike and a taxi ran it over, smashed it asunder. So sad.

After eating, Erin and I madly biked back to the school. Once there, I had five minutes to spare before the next class. After class, I rode up to the music store and practiced the catalogue until I ran out of daylight. Then, back to Dongzhou for vodka and Sprites.

We ate at the sheep place for la zi ji ding. A neighboring table of two guys kept looking over and the one who was drinking beer came by and ganbei'd us. I waited a few minutes, then went over and ganbei'd him...a pepper! His face turned a little red and every time I looked over he was waving his hand over his burning mouth. I went over and had his buddy pour some milk into my cup. I drank it, made a relieved face, implored him to do the same. He upended the carton, the poor bastard.

We got some fireworks on the way back, lit them here and there, cackling into the night. Heather and I watched "Blazing Saddles" until I was sucked down the pillow vortex.

2005/03/17 and 18: karaoke

on thursday and friday night both, we did some karaoke. thursday at the golden lions i did "hey you" and another song, but i can't remember which. not a bad time at all.

on friday, karaoke was at wooley's. my friend laura's birthday had been on wednesday, but she wanted to celebrate by doing the wooley's karaoke on friday.

it's the same karaoke lady, bonnie, from our thursdays at golden lions, but it's a different clientele, and a totally different atmos. fewer people, too, meaning i got to sing more times than i wuld have at the lions. i did "never tear us apart", which is in the new director's cut of donnie darko, so it was on my brain.

januaryfairy and i did two heart tunes: "alone" and "what about love", both of which were a real good time. this was really like shirley's used to be, back in the day. i'm excited for the toast's return.

2005/03/16: Berlin

sometime last week, baby kitty asked whether i'd like to go see Berlin on their upcoming stop in (of all places) dayton, ohio. i said sure, and got the tickets on monday.

after leaving work early, i picked her up, and we headed to dayton. we were running a bit behind (the website said show at 6pm), but there were two openers, and we were hungry. the solution was a quick dinner at Friendly's.

[ah, shit -- time to karaoke. i got distracted by watching the donnie darko director's cut with commentary. i'll finish later, and put up a couple pics.]

---

ok i'm back. a few days later, but i'm back. :)

Where was I? oh yes, Berlin.

After Friedly's (where i did NOT have a reese's sundae), we went over to the Dublin Pub. it was odd -- the show was in an outdoor tent, which was conected to the actual building. we went into the building first, as our tickets were on will call. no problems there, luckily; i'm always leery of will call tickets, but it was fine this time around.

we had missed the first opening band, who was apparently a traditional Celtic band. ugh. it was the day before st. patrick's day, though, and we were at an irish pub, so i supose it was to be expected. the second openers were cinci locals Shesus. i hadnt heard them before, which was odd, since they play in cinci all the fucking time. but yeah. they were ok, not really my style, though. very similar to Wire and Elastica, especially in the basslines. the crowd for the most part seemed somewhat unimpressed, with a few exceptions up near the stage. i think folks were there for Berlin and no one else.

after a while, they finished, and we waited what seemed like forever, although it was still fairly early in the evening. eventually some radio dork came up and did the stupid intro and the band tok the stage, initially withouth terri. the band was all young -- late 20s-ish, i'd say -- and all had spiky, LA-stlye haircuts, black with colors (purple/blue/red, i think) on the tips. they played some instrumental stuff for a few moments, then terri nunn came out.

first thought: wow, she still looks great! and as soon as she started singing, it was apparent that she still sounded great, too.

they of course played most of the well-known songs: "no more words" came early in the set, while "the metro" came a bit later. they ended up playing most of the first record, in fact.

the band was good, and the sound was as well. they played at times with a backing track, which had sequenced synth parts (especially the moroder-style fast parts)., but it didn't come off as lame, as bands sometimes can who play along with pre-recorded stuff.

a great moment for me was when terri announced that they were going to play a cover. at first, it sounded like duran duran's "rio", but as soon as the vocals started i realized that it was "big time", one of my favorite Peter Gabriel songs. awesome. it was at this point that was sure i hadn't wasted the $25 ticket price.

eventually, of course, it came time for them to play "take my breath away". as an intro, terri brought up a piece of paper with a seal (the gold foil kind, not the animal) on it. she said that the mayor of dayton had sent her this certificate of recognition for berlin's award winning song "take my breath away", which (i'm paraphrasing here) "would always remind listeners of military flight."

ugh.

i looked at baby kitty, and she was looking at me with the same disgusted look on her face that i was sure i had on mine.

it was time to go.

as we left, we heard the song's synth bassline fading behind us. too bad she had to sour things by reading the stupid letter she'd gotten.

the only song i hadn't heard that i'd wanted to hear was "sex (i'm a)", which i'm sure they saved for the end of the set, or even for an encore. it was no problem, though, as i'd definitely gotten my money's worth.

we drove home, and i called gabe, who'd said he was going to come over and watch the third season of oz with me. he said he was playing video games over at our friend steve's, and he'd come over in a couple minutes. a half hour went by, and i called to check on him. "sorry man. let me beat this level." i was tired, but i'd been looking forward to oz, so i said ok. forty-five minutes after that, still no gabe. it was now nearly 1am, and i was far too tired to watch anything. i called gabe to let him know this, but before i could tell him that, he told me he'd changed his mind and wasnt coming over after all.

grr. that's an hour and a half that i could have been sleeping. oh well. naturally, i crashed after that.

here are some more pics from the show:

this one's during "big time"






that's the singer from Shesus (though i don't know her name)




there's that letter from the mayor

dooce in moab

hey, looks like dooce will be in Moab. not that it's important at all, or even likely that she'll run into someone i know there, but still -- mcdeviltoast used to live there, and ambassador bc still does, so i thought i'd mention it. you know, kind of like a celebrity visiting your hometown, except it's not my hometown, and dooce is only sort of a quasi-celebrity.

[ i'm quite a fan of dooce's blog, though were my friends to read about it, they might assume i wouldn't be. ]

March 17th: St. Patrick's Day

Day 182

My St. Patty's Day off went thusly: Had coffee, wrote, tried watching "Ghost in the Shell 2" only to discover there's no English subtitles nor English track. Nuts. The animation's top-notch but I can't follow what's going on. It's like: I know she's explaining why he killed him, but I still don't know. Crap.

Had lunch and a lunch lady approached me while I was eating, rattled some Chinese at me, despite my "ting bu dongs" and eventually figured out she was asking if we had the vegetable medley I was eating in America. Minus the bits of hot dog in it, yeah. I nodded and said, "Shir. Jay ger 'succotash.'"
She repeated, "Succotash." I nodded, and she walked away, answer sufficient.

Jeni dropped by for a spot of tea and cheese and conversation. I finished my whiskey with some very flat soda. One bottle was from the day before spring holiday. Yech. I rode out to Times and bought some vodka and some Sprite, dropped them at Dongzhou, then went to the music store and ran through the repertoire. I still haven't been able to play "Sober Me Up" exactly the way that I want, but the more I chisel at it, the closer I get.

I returned, voice loosened up, high on creativity, like a muse I.V. We had some highballs in Mike's room, listened to a rockabilly compilation I let him rip, fiddled a bit on the guitar. I'm getting better at playing with a pick (all that plectrum practice with the ruan, I wot.)

Mike held court and discussed the seemingly unreal uselessness of his job. He's figured out that the Chinese English teachers have instructed their students not to listen to us. We're figureheads because it makes the school look important. So, in essence we're getting paid to fill an administrative void, be available for practice, and travel and party. Most people would kill for a job like this, but I know what he means. You want to change the world, give grades, see some concrete results. To date, I've taught my kids three Beatles songs which they love and I know they know how to say a hard English "R" even if they never put it into practice. I've reached them (I'll be leaving behind a legacy of Chinese kids saying "guy"). I made English fun for them, and I've learned a lot from them, too. I can be proud of that.

Erin rode up and joined us and we all went for hot pot on the corner, even Andy. It was the same kind of deal as last time: they gave us a pot of stuff told us if we ate that, then we could have hot water and what we ordered. I selected out the ginger and garlic cloves with extreme prejudice. A table nearby got into a ganbei war with us. A representative from our table would go over and toast them, then after a few minutes they would send someone from their table to ours. We were drinking Tsingtao and they had Reeb. When they tried to pour Reeb in our glass, we shook our heads, said "boo hao!" We pointed to our bottle said "hen hao!" We ate our hot pot, proceeded to get fairly lit.

Our rivals left for the disco first, we followed along after some fireworks. They had no more shuttles, so we bought some spark fountains that were disappointing. They sparked and fountained as advertised but we were after something that came with a report. You can't set off car alarms with pretty sparks. The bombers with report were a little more our speed, although if memory serves right, they didn't all have report.

When we got to the club, Rhys and Jeni were lagging behind. When they caught up, Rhys was visibly upset having seen a person sleeping on the sidewalk. He acidly lashed at the Chinese government, muttered about "socialist (something) can't even give him a bed?" We all embraced him, and it was a very human scene, exhibited just how close our group was. He dabbed at his eyes, smiled, called it a "Buddhist moment." The depth of his empathy was enviable and I think it made us all stop and consider our own humanity and luck.

Inside we shanghai'd a table from a couple girls, ordered beer and a fruit platter. The energy of the crowd was weird. There seemed to be a mob around our table. One guy told Rhys that his own cock was small and Rhys's was big. That made our girls leave. Some guy at the next table stroked my arm because it had hair on it. I showed him my chest, then he wanted to arm wrestle. We left early because it was just too odd. Our guys from the restaurant showed up near the end, wanted us to dance even when there was no music.

I bought some more bomber with report on the way back to Dongzhou, but none of them had a report. 7 of the 8 were duds that just didn't even light. Boo! Sleep arrived like an anvil.

March 16th: payday and movie night

Day 181

In two separate classes, when asked what they would buy if they had a pot of gold, students answered "Beauty." I'm not sure if they meant plastic surgery or if it's synonomous with "go to spa" but it was odd nonetheless. Apparently it's in the eye of the beholder and the pocket of the gold broker.

I got a call from Jenn which was nice as always, helps me feel connected. It keeps me assured I'm still known in the 275 loop.

I lost my patience a little with the last class, forever begging them to be quiet and even ranted a little under my breath, "Little emperors and little empresses. This is what happens when you don't have siblings to keep you in check, you become little fucking brats." They found it amusing to play with coins while I was lecturing, letting them fall to the floor and make noise. I began taking them away, and by the end of class, Mr. Willis had about five kuai.

Earlier I had asked Rose if I had to teach on Thursday since some students had mentioned they had exams. I did not. Good news, for that was my dreaded "long day." Now I had all St. Patrick's Day to do whatever. We got paid and went to the hotel for sustenance. The Dongzhou crew met us there, even Andy, and we ate, drank and laughed, vented about our bad students.

They cabbed it back and I rode to the DVD store to return the bunk copies of "Godfather II" and "Eyes Wide Shut"(it glitched about two minutes from the end credits), picked up hopefully better copies of the same, along with some others. Heather and I watched "Silver City," a decent if somewhat disorganized comic mystery that unabashedly lampoons Bush. Chris Cooper is spot-on as the "user-friendly" gubernatorial candidate, Richard Dreyfuss as the film's Karl Rove, and too many more to namedrop. Billy Zane is in it, but underused, but of course I'm biased because he's the rock star of the universe.

Sent a happy birthday text message to Tom Willis's cell phone, then folded into cookie dough blankets and snored away my cares.