highway to the danger zone

藍天天. I refused to work, because one day, I will die, and when I do, I'm pretty sure I won't want to have spent one more day working. Instead, I woke up and drank some coffee and explored the internet and had some oatmeal and peanut butter (both expensive luxuries here) and eventually got on the MRT and went west. I grabbed too many warm up beers, and this slowed down the start of my sessoin. however, every day that i end up at 三重 on the river ends in euphoria. I got off at the old old hood and crossed the bridge into the promised
land. First, you bomb the bike ramp down onto the park itself, (it's beyond running speed at 1/4 of the ramp,
no human being could possibly be brave enough to bomb the whole thing. right?) then it's a five minute 
skate north to a spot directly under the flight path of hte airport (they come over at maybe 500 ft). 
the ledges are giant circles, and the lines are endless. However, there are no lights, so by dusk, I was 
forced to return to the hood. This is ok, better than ok, because I love 大稻埕 all my heart. I have no idea why the font is changing, other than that I just typed it in mandarin. I didnt get much done at the flight path circles, but the cruise home was one of the best 90 mintes of my life. taipei is an aboslute maelstrom of people, there is no way to overstate the chaos. I havent trieddmt  but i am struggling to describe teh skate home in the same way that people struggle to describe dmttrips. In order to sruvive, you have to develop a sort of prescience bordering on the supernatural, cracks and lose tiles and scooters nad bicycles and people and walls and curbs and garbage and chaos are at maximum intensity at rush hour. weaving in and out and over and under and through is maybe the most difficult thing that i can do on a skate board. Every second feels like a minute passing, hundreds of crucial decisions have to made every minute. It is skating on instinct alone, and I was giddy with adrenaline in the way that i image motorcycle racers are: you acheive a sort of transcendental unity with the space around you so that you feel invicible, and without that confidence, it would be entirely impossible to do at all. Your 4velocity has intertwined with the environs until the split second you get creamed by a taxi and spend the last 100 breathes of your life in agonizing pain. I had to work to remind myself of my vulnerability as I careerend through the maelstrom of people, simulteneously believing and not beliveing that I would die. This sounds so overly dramatic that I had to pause and erase it, but then I wrote it again. Only hauling ass on a motorcycle feels like skating through taipei at rush hour, with intent. 
I found a bank to curb that is very hard to skate. The cracks between the tiles are 1/4 inch, and most of the tiles are loose. The "curb" is two stairs high, and it's slate. some beautiful brilliant construction worker decided that instead of building a proper stair, they would just slap wet cement on it and make a 45 degree slope up to the slate.  It's in the middle of a nightlife sort of area that was just starting to kick off, so I had to wait between tries for the armies of prostitues and japanese businessmen to walk by. I got a trick in short time there, wobbling sketchily out of it through the whores, some of them ducking away and shrieking. Sorry, whores, I really don't mind you being there. I'm glad someone saw me land it. 
Maybe before this, or maybe after, I'm not really sure, I clackalacked through some shitty areas and at one moment, looked up to see a young dude sitting in the sidewalk, drinking gaoliang, and he gave me a thumbs up with both arms extended. 
In the multiverse, I died a lot of times tonight. In the particular version of it where I am writing this and you are reading it, everytihng turned out fine. In fact, better than fine. The skate from the old hood to the new one is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.