Got to Scrap the Shit Right Off Your Shoes

Thank you for your wine, California. 

In my new life, I wake up on a rooftop at 07:00 everyday. This isn't by choice. Maybe I'm sleeping better or maybe senility explains it. Either way, it's useful for work, because i'm no longer dragging myself across Taipei half asleep at 11:00 everyday. now I can wake up on my own and get to work at 8:00 and I feel as awake as when I used to show up at 14:00. Maybe it's because I have clean shoes. 

I'm not sure how to deal with waking up at 07:00 on rest days though. Normally, I work Saturday mornings now, but this being New Year's Weekend, my students didn't want to suffer through KK practice today (To Live and Skate In Taipei Top Tip: if you want your students to cancel the next class, load them up on phonics and grammar assignments the week before. They'll get the flu and not feel up to the next class. But don't do it for a straight month or they'll quit). 

This morning, I woke up to the roar and honk of millions of assholes on scooters, at 07:00. I casually got breakfast downstairs, casually got a coffee, and then I still had at least 16 hours to kill before I could sleep again. So I went skating. Weirdly, no one else wanted to skate at 08:00. By trial and error and random walks through the new hood, I've found the optimal route to the bridge. There are many things to consider; foremost is surface. On the way to the session, I don't want to fuck with rough asphalt or cracks or tiles or that kind of bullshit. I want blacktop as smooth as the clean, clear, crisp taste of Asahi beer (Asahi, give me free shit). The next consideration is distance, but I'd rather skate twice as far on smooth stuff than suffering through the roar of my wheels on an ancient road. Third up is traffic. Luckily, the alleys with the least traffic are also the most interesting to roll through. It's like a little side canyon of ugly buildings with beautiful flowers growing out of them, like gorgeous parasites. Lastly, I might forgo some of these considerations if there's a skate spot on the way, especially a lil guy that I can slappy while cruising, unwarmed up, and keep on going. 

Like an ant, I've been following the smell of my own path to and from the bridge for a couple of months, and I think I've found the route that ants would take, or a computer that was into machine learning. This includes a lil hill with those goddam square tiles that are the curse of Taipei. The cracks between each are so harsh, so you lose a lot of speed on them, and also they can unbalance you, so it's super hard to do flatground on them. only jesters do tricks on them. I looked down the hill, to read the pedestrians and dogs and lose tiles and cracks and went for it, clacking louder and clicking more and more frequently as I got the bottom and leaned in to go left. Across the street was a line of about 200 people, waiting to get into something at the art park. Because they were bored and in line and heard a very loud clickety clacking, they turned one to watch me roll down the hill. They weren't in the way, so I wasn't really paying attention, until I got the bottom and *******ed first try. They made a collective sound. I was extremely proud, but too insecure to acknowledge the crowd, so I kept pushing on, to the bridge. 

At the bridge, the trick fairy arrived and suddenly I could do better ** *****s and ** *****s than ever before. I skated a lot of flatground for a long time, with a crew of guys I've met but don't really know. Oscar Meyer was teaching a little kid how to skate and adc spent hours getting footage of a line. He was at full burner and didn't quit until sometime after I left. But I didn't leave until  I had developed a serious case of OLTS (One Last Trick Syndrome). I had to work for them, but I got each thing I wanted in reasonable time. So I would move on to the next, and I got caught up in the time travel vortex like in that movie where the farmer girl is an astronaut who goes back into her old room to meet her father who is trapped in the fifth dimension or something. Iowa got turned into an O'Neil cylinder or something, I can't remember.

Anyway, the point is that a crew of girl skate perps showed up and fucking tore the place apart. I don't think I'd ever seen them before. THey arrived in a crew and the crew skated from one end of the park to the other, about two or three arms' length apart. They charged like a pack of wolves and it was fucking glorious. I have a crush on their style. skating in close proximity to others is fucking awesome, in the old sense of the word. especially when five of them all do different tricks and roll away. One of htem was like a female Jamie Thomas, long hair flying as she bailed again and again off the tall bank, until she inevitably made it. Another of their crew got a ******** on the same bank, in quick succession. I left with the impression that they skate like this all time. I can only hope so. They laughed when one of htem missed a trick. THey laughed when one of them made a trick. They were like a burst of sunshine through the clouds. I hope they go skate street. They will make legitimately interesting footage. 

My loosely knit crew, such as it is (and that's the best kind. no one has matching tattoos or anything) is going out tonight, but i'll miss it because of my proclivity for waking up before dawn. Then again, maybe I'll show up and cruise to spots and watch, just so I can enjoy that refreshing, delicious taste of Asahi, which is never watered down and always satisfying: The Only True Beer of Taipei Skaters (sorry rmj, kirin upsets my gutworm).

Stepping Light

I haven't been skating for a cornucopia of reasons, rain being a big one, and as much as work as rain has been falling on my head lately. There is also the emotional element. Tonight was the weirdest of all. I picked up yet another box from lzyk's house and carried it across town in a suit, in the rain, listening to shuffle (as has become tradition). Of all those walks, this one was the easiest.

how I almost died by a bus

the Plaza at ximen was seething with a golden horde of skaters when I got there. Seriously, I think there might have been a hundred people skating there. One person was getting bj in the back, and one person was administering one, but I would have skated past without really noticing, had IS not pointed the situation out. The possibility remains that she was crying into his crotch. Anywya, we warmed up in the crowd and went to a few spots to the north. After a few false starts, we ended up going on the Old North Loop. I nearly got murdered by a bus. EIther that pos was the Schumacher of bus driving, or he just didnt' care if he killed me or not. The ministry of labour manny pad has been ruined and turned into a hotel lobby. On the way, IS was leading the team and tried to ***** into a sort of very narrow, low bank and caught the front truck on the upper and smashed himself. We walked and cruised and saw the warf and then went north north to the tall ledges, where he got a fast **-** *** out, and eventually we went ot the sewage plant, where he slammed again and then the Lil Lost Hubbas, which I ebentually found but we didn't really skate. Then it was a short jaunt back to the redline and he went north and I went south.

I saw lzyk in cardiology at chang gung. Sometimes the fruit is so bitter it will pick itself.

Trashy laowai

Taiwan is a country of very strict rules that everyone follows all the time. This is why I never deviate from the rules in anyway, especially when riding on a scooter. I also never deviate from the incredible pain in the ass rules about trash collection. Trash trucks drive around a few times an evening, and people who don't have trash service in their building have to carry their trashbags and recycling outside at the appointed time to give them to the trash collectors. If you're optimistic, it's a fun way to meet your neighbors. If you have a job, you will be at work when the truck comes singing its cute little trash song (the not Beethoven one is my favorite, but I don't know the tune), and there is no way in the wide world of sports that you can ever get your trash collected. It is illegal to throw away trash in the public trashcans (not all of Taiwan's rules make complete sense). As an upright and law abiding resident, I would never break this rule and put my trash in a public trashcan, like the opposite of a raccoon. I love rules, especially rules like that one.

Climbing back up on that horse

If the horse bucks you off, you gotta get back on it and show it you own it. I worked and explained to the kids why I'm wearing a car battery for a necklace, and then went ot meet MW and NG at the bridge. I had no idea what to expect. I'm not actually that morbid, but as I pushed for ten minutes to get there, I kept thinking about if my heart was going to explode in this session. obvisouly, it didn't. I didn't really skate well, but b-one was there and greeted me  and sawty has earned a whole new level of pop. He's at the point where he learns a new trick every night. We got excited doing tricks over the manhole cover in the back, and NG made some new friends back there too. I mostly stayed out of the main section, and kept my bpm down low. A tiny kindergartener was pushing around competently, and her brother was rolling down the banks. I didn't do anything new, or even remotely approach a normal session. Every skate is a good skate. I'm glad I went.

Blustery Walk to the North River

I got out of the hospital and didn't know what ot do with myself so I went for a walk. The black box that I had to wear was uncomfortable, well, the leads were, but it wasn't really that bad. I creeped on the line group and saw IS was skating at yuanshan, so I walked north to the top of the city. When I arrived, I found some new spots, included a black and yellow tall ledge that is about 20m. E and SC were too. I had on flipflops, so I didn't really skate, but I watched them and brought a few beers. Then IS and I beered up again and I eventually walked home. I wonder how scary it's going to be to skate again. Probably not, but you never know how good a bullfighter is til he's been gored. Ok, I wasn't gored, just blacked out, and not even because of a skate trick.

Hot Nurses Rubbed KY Gel into my Chest Hair, Several Times

I spent the first part of my night on a gurney in the ER with my heart rate monitor beeping to remind everyone that I was still alive. It was an incessant and very loud reminder, but better than the alternative, I suppose. It reminded me of the time I was working in the ED at GMC and I told a patient it was ok to remove the finger sensor while he signed a consent for treatment. It wasn't, and the staff all freaked out and were running down the hall shouting at everyone about a code, as I walked out the door. Taiwanese leads aren't made to deal with my kind of chest hair, so these eventually worked their way lose when the hair overcame their glue. Noone ran over though. Then my chest hair got the KY gel conditioning treatment. Apparently, echocardiograms need an entire tube of lube, every two hours, I got another tube full rubbed into my chest by not entirely unattractive nurses. It was really cold though, and I'm sure they had never rubbed KY gel onto a gorilla before, but they kept straight faces. I winced from the cold.

If you ever keel over in Taipei, I recommend Chang Gung Memorial Hospital. It's a little but competent ED. It was cozy for a while. I got the update that I'd be getting labs back at 04:00, so I settled into reading Dune and time flew by. Until my favorite/least favorite kind of ED patient showed up. It took me the rest of the way back to the GMC days. He was partially restrained, because he either got swaysted and bumped his bumpkin, or got swaysted and mouthed off to someone who bumped his pumpkin for him. Eitherway, he was in a neckbrace and spent the next four hours laying on his back, rolling his eyes wildly. The man was squealing like a pig, moaning like a whale, gibbering like a bonobo, and cattering like a fucking maniac. He never stopped. I'm proud of myself that even with his slurred caterwauling, I could make out most of what he was saying. "I want to drink some waaaaaaaaaaaater," he would howl. "I need to PEEPEE! PEEPEE! I NEED TO PEEPEE!" he would cajole (just as funny in mandarin). "I want to leave! FUCK! FUCK YOU!" he would holler, as staff walked by and he saw them out of the corner of his eyes. He said a lot of dirty mud horses (which is like 'fuck your mother') and then tone shifted into Taiwanese before descending into some deeper layer of hell where he just squealed and screamed animal sounds. 

After a few hours of this, the staff rolled me around the corner, well, around several, and then I was so far away that I couldn't hear the bugger at all. I felt sorry for him. I wonder how all my old ED coworkers are doing. I only kept in touch with one, but he left years ago. 

The next stage of the night was spent reading more Dune (maybe the best book every) and trying to doze off. Every few minutes, someone else on the quiet hall would let rip the biggest, longest, wettest series of farts that I've ever heard. I've heard a lot of nasty sounding farts, but never so many, so frequently. I kept waiting on the smell to get to me, but they had tucked my gurney in the corner where the AC comes out, so I guess it saved me. The mud farts continued all night, all morning, and into the next afternoon. 

This whole time, I had a launchpad of tape and IV's in my arms, which made bending my elbows extremely unpleasant, but not actually painful. When I finally got discharged, I was as relieved to get the IV's out as I was to actually go home. 

The cost of this experience was roughly $75 USD. You probably can find a less pleasant hotel to sleep in for the same price. Taiwanese healthcare is astonishingly cheap. Too bad they don't pay the staff a decent wage. 

Anyway, now I feel totally fine and I have a black box with various leads glued onto my chest. I have to wear it for 24 hours, so that in case a plane crash, they can blame the pilot. 

On my way out, I had to check back through another clinic. During my exit examination, the nurse weighed me and said "because you jawline is so weak, you actually not as fat as you look." As I was digesting this, the doctor explained, "your heart is very soft," as he reviewed echocardiogram results. I must have looked puzzled, because then he said, "it is very young, like a new heart. You have a new heart, haha."

I wonder if I'm to have PTSD next time I skate at the bridge, or try to ** ***.

How I Almost Died on a ** ***.

it was rave night at the bridge. I was all shaky but I went anyway.. It was wet. I didn't feel good, hard to say how. I just did. I warmed up and did ***s because I want to get better at popping them. As I twisted and landed a low one, my heart started going crazy and my vision faded out. I stumbled a couple of steps to my bag and sat down. I couldn't get my breath for about twenty minutes, and my heart was still pounding. At this point, I should have called an ambulance, well, long before that point. Instead, for reasons that I cant explain, I walked home, resting several times on the way, because my heart was pounding and I still couldn't breathe. Bizarrely, I showered off, packed a night bag with charger, headphones, and book, and took a taxi to the ER. As I pulled up, something in my chest snapped, like a breaking rubber band, and I started to feel normal again. Total elapse time was about 70 minutes. Now I'm sitting in oberservation. Might be here for a while.

happy birthday, but im still confused regarding whose birthday it is.

this is gonna be a clusterfuck of  a post, sorry about that. It started yesterday mornign when I worked and then went home and took a nap until my phone buzzed, because i forgot about the corporate event. i arrived an hour late. i brought home a lot of free chicken. the streets were dry to i went to the bridge for the last 30 min, but it was wet when it ended.

I went home dejected.

rmj hit me up a few hours later, and long story short, a whole crew of skaters came over to drink beer at the hobo stoop by main station. an actual hobo wanted to try skating, in traditional taiwanese blue flip flops. he was at least 50, and wasted on something that wasnt etoh. everyone eventually wandered off, but fa adn i talked until sunup. there was a lot else to say about hte night, but i'm not sober enough to report it all.

when life is bad, there is nothing more encouraging than crossing the street a half dozen skaters stooped up in front of the fami, waiting for you.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myJDBos5Vyw

and if you save yourself, you will make her happy

I was still 1,000 miles away while standing in front of your face.

I dance when I walk when I'm drunk. It was a 14 hour day, so I got drunk. I walk slow when I'm drunk, especially when I go for a walk on the sidewalk at night. It was pissing rain and I danced to pretty primping first. I slammed an asahi and went for some dancing to Mystical, who is fucking underrated. Then some Hand Of Doom, of whose beat is sickest, and then some AC/DC merited some banging of the head and then Mr. Gnome, which is the best band you've never heard of. Then I went back up and drank another asahi in the spitting rain and sappy came on, which is the best nirvana song, except that one that I cant remember the name of.

upstairs, smashed my pinky between my knee and the desk.

skate tutor

Things are back in order,  but the ********s were a lot less magic. Maybe it was having worked for 11 hours before hand. The bridge was just right, like baby bear's porridge. About a dozen universally friends were there, including mw and dthep and a Taipei og who I guess i'll name sanchongc (tradition forbids a nickname the first time I meet people but since I know so much about this guy, I ll forgo such formalities). 

I went because a language exchange friend had a skateboard in her picture. She'll have to wait to get a name though, but I expect her to. The brothersczech were also there (not actual brothers but they might be the best skaters I've ever seen in person). They skated as expect, and have been adopted fully into skate society by us natives. it doesn't hurt that inaddition to ripping around with the least effort, they re also both genuinely friendly guys. 

I tried to teach the new girl how to push and turn in the back. She tried to teach me some new words. 

It was a low key session, marked by the ripping of my favorite pair of camo skate shorts. I feel naked skating with no camo on. At least I still have my black hoody. 

Out of Order. I didn't have the heart to skate.

I went home to tell my momma I love her. After work the street was blocked with paving machines.

My grandfather was dying, so I went back to the US. I got lucky and got a good, new job and a good, new place ot live right before hand. For whatever reason, my job likes me, so they didn't even give me much shit about it. The flight was fucking horrorshow. I had a 9 hour layover in soeul, which is apparently the bets party city in the world these days, but it was 0 degrees and I chose to stay at Incheon overnight. to be honest, Incheon is maybe the best airport in which to be stuck. the lounge was comfortable and clean and there were even free showers. Korea was the last time I would visit civilization for a week.

My seat mate was 200+ kg and overflowed on me for the entire 15 hour flight. He was like an American shrek. I hate him. His hot, sweaty blubber grinded and flopped on me the whole time.

My dad picked me up at the airport. a lot is changing . construction is booming there. I had lunch with beth and sass and parents at mcrays. I had nachos. real nachos. I sent a video to lzyk, not explicitely to be cruel, but I guess it was still a dick move. I don't know why I did it. because I wish she was her old self and I wish were back to how they used to be between us.

I slept, and woke up at noon, Taipei time. I walked to waffle house, through the quiet, crisp cold of a ga November night. I saw a couple of cars. the waffle house dude was the angrist, most resentful little man I have ever met. his coworker, the cook, was a little more polite. it was awkward to observe their interaction, like they had just had a huge fight. I had an allstar breakfast, then I walked home.

I went to my grandfather's, and I drove him to physio. I slept through judy's supper and woke up at 3:00. I started reading brave new world that I stole from Jeff Darnall's class in 11th grade. damn that guy could teach. I wish I were like him.

It's so quiet in my grandfather's house that it's like the end scene of 2001. It must be so lonely here when no one is around. I feel awful for him. I can hear my own heartbeat in here.

Death conditioning.

Old people have dirty dishes.

The plane on the way back was like a weird big living room with hundreds of people in it. each one had their own tv.

Ive learned the shiining building lights of Taipei like constellations. it's good to be back on my home planet.

A Return to the Good Life

Life changes and a dead computer meant that I couldn't post anything for a while. I didn't skate in a month, because it was a month of mourning, and traditionally in Taiwan, when you're getting divorced, you have to wait a month to skate again because of juju. I skated again and motherfucking goddam, I got a series of the best, cleanest, popped, caught and bolted (oxford comma, @rmj) ******** of my life. This all happened at the bridge, which is where all Taipei skaters are respawned. Other homies, and many many many other skaters were there. It would have been annoyingly crowded, but I hadn't stood on a skateboard since I got kicked out of my house, and the skate from my new house felt gloriously joyful. It's not that far to the bridge, only a station or two, and the roads and sidewalks are mostly backalleys, with pleasant little clicks and giggling little clacks across the tiles, and small ollies over the man hole covers and metal rectangles, one of which I did into a crowd of people because I'm an asshole. they parted and I kept going. As mentioned, I could suddenly ********* higher and faster and cleaner than ever before, with no explanation why. Maybe I just lost the fear, or maybe I just expected to be able to land it everytime because I hadn't failed to land it for a month. At anyrate, if this goes down as my best ******** night, I can die happy.

RMJ and I skated spots to the north after, and he got a few lil tricks, especially after we got booted from the fountain ledge spot and ended up at this curved ledge/curved benches place, with a long coupel of stairs and a rail that is possible to get on from a low vantage point. Pedestrians filmed us for a while, then we went to the old hood, and grabbed some beers at seven. Buzzed, I kept landing good ********s. How the fuck does this happen? it's like my body was practicing this trick while I wasn't skating. Maybe I was sleep walking. It's a cosmic mystery.

Anyway, we talked about overthrowing the establishment, and cruised down towards the general area of my new hood. We stacked up a back of beers and took them to the Roof Stoop, which, I don't mean to toot my own horn, is the best roof stoop in all of Taiwan, hence, in the world. We watched the moon drift across the sky (I cant believe that's a real thing) and drank all the beers and spit off the sixth floor onto the street below and listend to jungle and cb7th.

It's time to get back into skating.

Breaking in my Dream Stoop

Part of street skating is drinking beer on stoops. Someone people might disagree, but they're chi-gwai. After years of semi-antisocial behavior in Taipei, I certainly developed a catalogue of preferred stoops. I've drank beer sitting on curbs, on marble ledges, in front of churches, in alleys, at seven's, on quiet streets, on loud and busy streets, in parks, by handrails, by public toilets, all up and down linsen bei, nearby the house and far far far away from home. I've always been partial to roof stoops, partly for the rhyme, but mostly for the view and the breeze and the superiority I feel over all the people who aren't skating Taipei and drinking beer after on a roof.

A series of personal disasters has made this a bad month, but at least one dream came true: my own personal penthouse roof stoop. For those who don't know, most older buildings in Taiwan have a sort of fungal appartment growth on the top. These places are cheap, because they're illegal (maybe unregulated is the better word) and they're hot in the summer, if they're not properly insulated, which they aren't, because they're not regulated. I'll solve that problem when I get to it. For now, I have a roof top entirely to myself.

Unfortunately, having started a new job, I haven't made time to move all my shit, and I rather romantically decided to move my skateboard last. I haven't had time to skate much, but then I haven't had the heart to either. So I missed the session. IS and the mysterious jumpro went to the bridge, and made their way over here when the lights went out. We hauled a couple of dozen beers up six flights of stairs and to my delight, found out jumpro is someone with whom I can get along. We drank beer and chatted on the roof until we ran out of etoh. Jumpro is flying out for work, and I'm flying out for family shit. IS is doing all the skating. I hope RMJ gets some sessions in while I'm gone. One week in the motherland during the onset of winter is going to suck. It's about 30-40 degrees colder than here.

Normalg Dreams of Skateboarding

I was back in America. It was the same time of year as now, and it was cold enough to need a jacket. I was giong to try and skate to various skatespots, only, they're so far apart. In teh states. I had several spots in mind - one of them was at the secret ledge in Jiantan, which makes about as much sense as a Salvador Dali painting, but the second spot was the long winding hill at Hog Mountain, that runs the length of the 18 hole golf course. We used to bomb it, back before traffic thickened up, out there in the country side. To my delight, the curbs down the whole thing, at least a mile of it, had been painted by City of Taipei. First, there were sections of yellow and black stripes, then about half way, it was just grey. I needed wax, so I went into the Home Depot but it was packed from floor to ceiling with shit, like a 五金 store, with the blue and white flipflops, the green and red brooms, the unlabeled, uninventoried heaps and stacks and shelves and piles of every kind of thing you can imagine. CC was working there, and I was delighted to see him. He sold me a case of Gulfwax, which was in a container like somekind of suitcase, and each individual brick of wax was wrapped up like chocolates that Taiwanese people give relatives. I wandered out and drank a beer. It was a beautiful blue sky day, windy and kind of chilly. A cop car drove by, and I was startled to realize that I can't drink beer in public here. I tried to grab my wax and backpack and skateboard and dash into the woods, but hte pinestraw was slippery and I feel down. How am I think drunk from only one beer? I thought. It was so dark in the woods. The smell of pinestraw was strong. The cop car was shining it's spotlight through the trees, looking for me. I realized that the fall had dislodged one of my teeth, a lateral incisor on the right side. I regrettably pulled it out of my gums and it was filthy and grey, with black splotches. Horrified, I tried to check if the others were ok, but they weren't. My teeth were crumbling like chalk, and the peices were covered in grey and black slotches, like mold on rotting fruit. As I touched them, my entire mouth came out of my face, like a solid unit: upper and lower jaws, with tongue and palate attached, inbetween. I was holding this fleshy monstrosity, unsure what to do, when I remembered this skatespot in the bottom of a ravine that I had dreamt of before. I buried my tongue and teeth beneath the pinestraw, and wondered it someone would find it and think I had been murdered there. On the other side of the woods was my old appartment complex from college. I decided to cut through it, to save time. I knew I probably looked like a maniac skateboarding hobo, since my mouth was missing. I heard some people talking about me, and then some authority saying yes, it really was me, I used to live there. I got lost in some kind of larger building, and security started following me at a distance. They were slowly surrounding me, but then I found the exit by mouthing the word at a terrified resident. She pointed and I threw down and pushed hard down the hallway. I got through the hospital sliding doors and just had to pop down a curb but something went wrong and I slammed. My wallet must have fallen out then and the wind blew my money out of the wallet. Red and blue bills scattered like confetti, and I ran and jumped, trying to catch some. Otherpeople were catching them too, and I was trying to yell that it was mine, but they thought I was just some crazy hobo. A man waded up some of my money into a softball sized ball, then they started playing catch with it. I was in tears, beggining them, please no, like monkey in the middle. They gave it to me and I laid on the ground, holding the money ball and crying. Then I'm not sure whathappened. The cops came, I hopped through a gap in the fence, and I rolling again, on rough american asphalt. I got back to the old house at Hog Mountain and my wooden 8x8 rail was there, so I ******* it for old times sake. This spongebob board is getting really haggard, so I thought about maybe focusing it, so I wouln't have ot carry it back to Taiwan, but I've never focused a board in my life, so I wondered if maybe I could kill it with some *********s in my 1990s driveway.

lowei and loneliness

I've been getting off work around 22:00 lately, which limits food options. Tonight I made in important discovery. The best and cheapest 滷味 in Taipei. There's a dumpy neighbhorhood near mainstation and the other night, I noticed a late night set up in front of a crumbling brick wall, with some plastic stools and metal tables. Things are piled up all around, so it's hard to tell what's trash and rubble, and what's actually part of this open air food heaven. The owner had one arm, and even at 02:00, every seat was full on a weeknight. They had beer (both kinds, jinpin AND classic). It looked so awesome that I saved teh pin but I didn't make it back for a couple of days. Some thuggish old dudes were stacking up bottles and playing a dice game. A man happily told me to have a good meal as I sat down. It was a perfect meal, and it cost $45. I struggled to order because even if I have guessed what they sold, I didn't know much of the words. Of course there is no menu, and of course they don't even have the ubiquitous red basket to put your selection in. You just tell her, and she makes it. I finally spit out that I wanted "some kind of soup, any soup is good." There is no way to make food as cheap as that at home. I think I'll just go there every night after work. Maybe I can learn how to be an old man from teh old men there. And since it's open air seating, it's really perfect for post skating. I bought a couple of cans for later at seven, and hiked up the six flights to my rooftop hideaway. It's peaceful up here, dark and quiet, but not too dark, and the traffic noise never totally dies away but never gets really loud either, except when a scootard roars down my alley with aftermarket exhaust, sounding like a two wheeled chainsaw through a loudspeaker. I guess that's what you get when you live in the hood. 

Anon Makes a Connection

Previously, I wandered down the river to CC's bar. I drank too many 9% and was seeing double by the end of hte night. IS was there and bought me some more 9%, which rurnt my seeing. CC rode me back on his scooter, because he's that kind of dude. I woke up mostly not hung over, which was good, because I had to work. I worked and it sucked. Then I went back to the new place, which is to be charitable, a penthouse on the top floor in a trendy neighborhood. There are downsides, but I'll get to those later. As I stood blasting Helmet's Aftertaste into my ears, I became aware of a skater with a dog on the crowded sidewalk. As he crossed the road, I realized it was JF. He gave me a hug. His dog is a tiny brown weiner dog. His skateboard is a cruiser deck. He said, "why are you wearing a tie? You nerd." We chatted while the light was red, and he explained he was looking for his bike because he drank slightly too much the night before and couldn't remember where he had left it. I know it's a nice bike, because he rides it to the bridge. I was just about to send him a line msg and say I hope he found it, but I don't have his line anymore. So I'm writing this. I went to mandarin lessons, and a japanese lesson, in case this trial seperation is permanent. If so, I'm giong to japan, because the air doesnt make me cough and I can sort of speak the langauge already. JP adn rmj and a slew of other people are skating the city tonight, but I have a fever, so I'm holed up at the new place. Happy Birthday, Lzyk. I'm so miserable without you that it's almost like having you here.

Angel of Death Rides Through

I got off work and hit up the izakaya next door. Perks of getting dumped. I bought some beers from seven and eventually ran out. I went down six flights to get more, but even before I set foot o nthe stairs,  I could tell the city was beset with a layer of white, stinking pollution. In the course of drinknig a few beers, teh air outside went from crystal clear to so foggy with pm2.5 that even the street lights on teh same block were hazy and nebulous. Some fools here are still antinuclear power. It's hard to believe they think that a nuclear accident would be worse than what's happening now. If they build a coal plant here, I think I have ot leave.

Anon Misses a Connection

Be me.
On the way to work.
Tie and briefcase.
Skater cruises up. Laowai.
Hey what's up man? Do you skate at the bridge? Haven't seen you before.
Looks me from head to toe and back.
Skates off.

Godspeed.

$b on the roof

I cancelled class this morning with the D, cause I would have sucked hard at working. One on one is so intense. I went back to sleep, having dreamed about lyzk, and woke up around noon. I eventually wandered outside and had an onionpancake and bought a dehumidifier. I cancelled all work, because I could. I fell asleep at six and woke up at eight thirty, so I missed the trash truck. I went to an izakaya next door and got comped some sympathy beers, "because [I] looked sad." They played Avril 14th on the speakers, and I watched the cars and scooters and buses rush by out of hte window. I lined up a lot of language exchanges, to keep busy. I listened to $B on the roof at length and drank some asahis. I have a great view of orion wandering across the sky here. It's a peaceful house.

skateboarding saves lives

having been instructed to move out, i found a place and started moving there. It's a weeknight, but IS still made the time to come help me move my pitiful pile of shit from Lzyk's place to my new one. The taxi pretended to not know where to go, and then we drank some  beers on the roof. I paid him in shoes and a gobstopper deck. We drank enough beers than I puked into the grate downstairs, but not til he had already caught  a taxi. We talked about skatespots from 20 years ago, and skatespots in the city now, and now I feel a lot braver than when I was at the old place. Breaking up is hard to do (dont take your love, away from me) i bought some household essentials. It's eh, empowering, but also feels like shooting my dog in the face. after I puked, I watched cmilk and whatshisname ride scooters around her home town. I'm so worried about her that I cleaned and fixed the bathoroom fan at the old house. My number one concern is that she is going get through this. In a way, that makes me feel proudly mature. Jesus christ almighty, never get married unless they really want to.

There's no right side of the bed with a body like mine and a mind like min

I skated to main station with tears in my eyes, on drying asphalt. Warmed up the stifflingly humid night with tons of ***s, *****-**s and ********s. I guess I'm guess I'm giving up on doing 100 everynight. This seems like as good a time as any. MH got there first. There was no miscommunication on our line group, but we all eventually wandered into the same area. That happened to be the pink marble banks at main station. They grind, if your wheels are small. And they **** *****, if you're IS. NLS came too along too, with TW, and CC as well. An angry homeless woman in a powder blue top came over to yell at us for not carrying enough speed through our grinds and for not popping the *******s enough (sorry everybody, I suck). She ranted around the block a few times and then we went to the plaza at ximen. A half a dozen other skaters were already there, one of who looks like a watermelon. They already had the double cones stacked up (MFing IS ******ed those bitches, after he ******* the stairs, and for once, I looked over at exactly the right time to see both of them. it was that kind of session; everything came together in an emotionally satisfying way). We skated teh 2001 black monolith ledge in the back until we assumed we would get kicked out, but we never did. I sang angry songs to myself and pushed around in circles. I got my longest ***** there (something about the loss of a given fuck when things are darkest can make some actually not bad skateboarding). The session wound downwith one by one leaving, and RMJ buying my water (because I forgot my walltet) and several beers (because I can't afford beer until pay day). At some point, FA was keen to arrive and slammed on his first trick. We sat aroudn talking, them reassuringly to me, and me obnoxiously because I'm more than a little awkward. We discussed (I shouted at them) dyson spheres and khardeshev civs, and eventually, we split up and I pushed home trough the drizzle, playing drugs and skengs on my speaker phone. Having arrived home and showered, I'm rather soberly realizing that this is likely to be the last night lzyk and I stay in the same place. Eight years gone.


I guess this is as far as we go. I guess this is as far as we go. I guess this is as far as we go. I guess this is as far as we go. I guess this is as far as we go. i guess this is as far as we go. I guess this is as far as we go. I guess this is as far was we go. I guess this isa far as we go. I guess this is as far wa we go. I guess this is a far sa we go. I guess this is as far waws we go. I guess this is as far as we go. I guess this is as far wsa we go. I guess this is as far as we go.

It's so easy to get bored

Feels like a heavy weight is on my back. That's cause big water bottles were buy one, get one almost free. Timing is everything. I bought too early. I tried to catch a falling knife. I carried the consequences on my back for most of the night. Both of them.

I'm tooting my own horn, but I'd like to lead off with the fact that it's well into Wednesday and the time I was asleep was sometime Sunday. I only mention this as the excuse for failing to hit 60**s. It was never gonna happen, but there was a moment where it might have gotten close, but the momentum of the night crashed like a wave against the beach, and having failed, rolled back into the depths of the night.

I met IS at the secret bridge, where I scoffed down the boiled fish hotdogs offered by 7 (this is important later), where he foolishly smashed his back against the ledge in the first few tries. The ledge didn't break, and neither did he, so I guess it was a tie. Dogs barked at us and pigeon shit was everywhere because for some reason, people here enjoy feeding flying rats. We cancelled teh night and set up shop on the godfather stoop and ran through a couple of cans and then he felt like ********, which he did first try. Nothing else was happening, except it was blustery, and the street lights lit up the green leaves, which are all around in the north part of town.

We went by the spot in all the videos, then across teh street to the weird weird alien made pyramids. Only by reading Redemption Space or Lovecraft can the foreign skater truly touch on the bizzarre geometry that is this spot. Each tier is less than a curb, and none are rounded corners, but math builds upon math that builds upon math until you have to ***** six short levels to get to the top and ***** it and then come back down (as IS did). He also got a crystal clear *******, and I petered out a *******. I hadnt skated there in years, maybe even three. Great spot. Pink banks to the sides. Come to Taiwan. It's lovely here.

Up the street is Jiantan station banks. They're a large family of double dark banks; lower level short, upper level tall and steep. In between is usually a 4-10 ft flat, but it varies. At this point, the session took off. I had expceted only the kind of bouyancy that keeps a water bottle floating when its 45% full of water, but IS burst through the surface of the night with a series of tricks on the effectively manny pads: a brilliant example of skating a spot in a new way, even if it means standing three lanes out into traffic to get the run started.

At this point, my gut worm started squirming from the cheap fish hotdogs. A word of warning to the casual skate traveler here: it looks cooked, and it smells mostly edible, but if you chose to eat 7-11's boiled meat balls of death, do it nearby a convenient toilet and buy a package of toilet paper before hand, because it won't be provided in the stall. I did all of this, and it came out swimmingly. At this piont, I'll refer to my notes:

At least I remembered the terlet paper.
Pushing home.
Whole city smells like Piss City.
bombed a hill with a beer, across some cracks.
through the old hood
Cruised by an american on a ubike blaring david allen coe. i aint sure who was more surprised, him or me. if that aint country, i dont know what is. hair lip the pope
lil hubba
********** first try. dive dive dive dive dive with me.

meshuggah rhythm in the tiles
across this glorious city
to linsen bei
                                                           (land of milk and honey)
Up a rare footbridge, only crossed the sewer here a couple of times before.
whores drinks food traffic neon signs
Across the open sewer spine
lil narrow hillbomb down the other side. had to wait for traffic for a while, as its only one lane.
intense rotting trash smell from the trash trucks, dingling a song at me
neon signs down to the horizen like the end of 2001
misfits
miss you john keller
dr octagon streets are wet af

29 yellow black tax stack in front of the seven by the ktv. Puke on the curb. Puke on the tiles. Puke everywhere. I park. Sneezing on the curb at length. After 45 mintues of straight pushing, gotta take a break.

cops flish flashing lights all around.

I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does.
The stench of air pollution rolls in, like Savannah. The weather channel said it would come today.Leaves are still dancing but my throat is already sore.

Joy division at the sotp light. wandering through wide sidewalks, rough square tiles low, smooth tiles set high, but of course, allthe pimps and whores and kongs and belles are up there on the high route. so its like surfing a very shallow break that clackalacks at the bottom and had the scum of Taipei on top.
No I never met anyone, quite like you before.

Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,Ohitsthelasttime,

House of circles

almost home

My Life is a Country Song

The sky has been blue. The air has been crisp and clean. I met a russian in the elevator. My dog ran off and my woman threw me out. I ran out of money and my truck broke down. There's tears in my beer and the bank's coming for the farm. The children are going to sleep hungry, all six of em, Jethro, Maxwella, Luanne, Llewellyn, Ethel, Opal, and Margarita. I'd go get drunk at the honkey tonk, but the tractor's broke down too and I'm out of money for gas.

I went to the bridge cause skating is free. CL and JP were there, and a bunch of other dudes I don't know that well, but they were friendly enough. One of those guys, I'll call him Stripey, learned *****s on the rail, then was about to get some *****s, but the lights went out. I'm not usually jealous of other people's progress. It's fun to see anyone get it done, regardless of respective ability. Anyway, this kid can learn a trick in a night, and then make it 75% of the time. Him and his homies had some upstepped flatground game too.

I tried to ***** the lil pad with JP and I got my other basics, including the ton on *****-**s and *******s. I went home just before lights out because sometimes you just cain't handle the dark.

lil one finna show you the way now

nobody gonna hold your hand, no
nobody gonna lead you the way, no

Withering Heights

Skating in a skate park is like dancing without music. It looks like skating, especially on video, and you do all the same motions and get sweaty, and it might even help you get very good at skating, but skating is skatepark is skating with all the soul bleached out of it. Skating in a DIY park is some weird middle ground of this, or at least, that's how most people feel about the bridge. I got there mid afternoon and met a sardine, but only only one other skater was there. It was overcast, then drizzly, then rainy, then heavy rain.

The gloam descended preternaturally by 04:00 and The Bridge was almost too dark to skate. What pop I had withered with the light. The environmentally acquired depression got more severe. Me and the other dude could barely skate faster than a walking speed, eyes down on our griptape, bumping into walls and barely sliding tricks. The roar of taipei traffic on either side mixed with the stench of car exhaust, and bizarrely, someone's extremely burned coffee, made it like skating next to a malevolent water fall with a toxic, smelly sock stuffed in your mouth.

I broke 102 in 28, which was the first time I've hit the ton. I petered around until the lights came on, like halogen artificial suns in an O'Neil cylinder. The rush hour honking started, and the air stayed foul. By 17:30, the lights were up to full illumination, and jpook arrived, followed by mw and a stready stream of others. I hit a few little *****s on teh pyramid, which is new for me, and a ** ***** in teh back with the minnows, and a ** **** on the box. The session got better and better as I got more and more tired. MW and I beered up and went to the family noodle place, then checked out the spy shit on the roof of the hotel next to my house.

We'll have problems yeah, then we'll have bigger ones

When it rains, it pours. The memories of this one are going to be kind of hazy because my computer wouldn't boot for several days. JA has been missing in action for more than a year. We met up at the yellow curb at yuanshan to find that a countless multitude of rollerbladers were milling all over. A drumming crew were there, but instead of skating the curb, we went ot the ampitheater. Soon, IS arrived, but the energy was almost below zero. At first, I thought it had been my unique interpretation, but everyone was complaining about it. Things got a little better when ng showed up, although she slammed on the approach. Exhausted from the pebbledash surface, we eventually made our way back ot the bridge spot vacated by the rollerbladers. Instead, a little crew of skaters were there. We started off a little frosty, because of my mood probably, but conversations grew as we waited in line at either end of the spot. They said they'll be skating there more often.

wet cold cold wet (pure evening)

Having finished the workweek, until saturday morning, and suffering lots of rain, I went to the bridge midafternoon because I thought that I could at least avoid rush hour. I couldn't. Two dozen skaters were there already, I could make a list of silly names I have for them but it's easier to just say they were there and went on a charge, pillaging the bridge until the entire village was left with burning thatch roofs. It rained the whole time. It got cold so I told awco that I had ot go home for a change of clothes (winter arrived in about 45 minutes). A japanese guy whose particular talent is **** ****ing was there, and he kept doing them with this little bounce in the middle, like ***** off the actual wall. He complained later that he can't ********, but fuck, anyone would be proud to skate with that kind of style. You got it or you don't. He does. It ain't what tricks you do, it's how you skate your city.

The entire city was soaked, and so was I after I went back for thicker clothes, so I chated with awco after I got back and drank beer and watched the rest of the session. Across the street, a whiskey sales advert was still screetching. lyzk called me up so we would go eat bbq and stare at the side of a very low meat flume and pretend like it's friday night. They played terrible asian psuedo hiphop, interspersed with a single placebo song. I cant think how the fuck they found that song or decided it fit in with the rest. Days dawning, skins crawlin.

Taiwan is a Large Small Island

I started out as a teacher here, because it's the job that all english speaking immigrants take. I still teach 5 year olds a couple of times a week because it satisfies my emotional requirement of unconditional love from my employees. These particular employees mostly make macaroni plates and color bits of paper that they glue to other bits of paper, some of which is folded, and some of which is glittered or has sequins glued on. They usually do cute things like tell me they're getting married, or gross things, like wipe their buggers on any available surface. Sometimes they unashamedly play with their genitals or dig their asshole in class. I make them disinfect their hands and teach them to say things in English, like "no, I don't want that," or "no, I won't do that," because I want to ruin their parents lives. Next week is "why?" Today, I taught a slew of them the names for celestial bodies in english. We got to Earth, and I showed them a picture, and they shouted out in unison "Taiwan!!!!" I tried to correct them, but they were really insistent. Island people are extremely insular, even the five year olds. We made little paper rockets that you can launch by blowing through a straw. It's a refreshing break from the adult world.

Wet Wet Wet

It was moist without being wet, at least when I left the house. Work and cleaning and even eating had to wait. The little flatbar and manny pad at the back of the bridge had dancers camped out all over it, but I politely encouraged them not to sit on the the rail so that I would skate it. Twice, someone came over and sat down on it anyway, and once, I accidentally elbowed someone in the back who wandered in front. There is a sort total lack of situational awareness that I've only encountered in Taiwan. They weren't actually trying to even be rude; they were so astonishingly selfish that they didn't notice another human being was doing something on a place where they'd like to sit. Good thing I never complain. I would have a lot to say about how rude Taiwanese people are.

I did at least get some ** *********s back, and then moved on to the pyramid, where I got a pathetic little *****, but progress is progress. IS and a friend showed up, then CL and SC and PJ and some other guys I know but not very well. It was cozy until it started raining, then it got cozier, because the bridge is still dusty and the moisture made the ground more than a bit slick. SC wanted to walk north after lights out, so I accompanied him past a parking garage with what smelled like a burning car in it. We hacked for about a block.

A Happy Update on the Bridge (Fifty Two Factorial)

It was like a family reunion. The first report that the bridge had unexpectedly reopened came from mw. The rumour grew. Seemingly too good to be true, I let the reports collect, from various field agents. Having finished work at a reasonable 15:00, I got off the MRT a stop early and walked by with a suit and briefcase. The gates of heaven had indeed reopened. No explanation needed. I was there within 15 minutes. The family reunion grew and grew until the bridge was so thick with skaters that it was impossible to actually skate. A new flemish guy and AC (maybe the best style I've ever seen) were there, but so were dozens of old friends. The AWCO came, with IS and gnarlyt. The prince and his friend showed up too. The session was good for me, on one hand, because I got 52! which is a very large number. I also got more of my old tricks there, but ** **** wasnt happening and my back is going to regret the slams that I put into it trying. A slew of people I didn't know were also there. And then even more people. and more people. It was like a skate moshpit.

I'm rarely mesmerized by someone else's skating. I just like to watch people I care about pushing themselves. But I didnt know AC before. He had a floaty kind of effortless style that you can fake with any kind of poses after landing the trick or whatnot. He didn't skate particularly fast, or do particularly technical tricks (although he was head and shoudlers above the skating I've seen in person here). I showed him IronMike's hometown spot, and he knew where it was, because they're from the same country.

Anyway, the lights went out and we went to bargur king. Well, they did. I beered up. Then the visitors from china complained about how horrible china is. Then I lost my patience and pushed off into the night and was happy to see that at least IS had coem along, but it turned out a whole crew had taken the plunge. I was just the first lemming.

We went north to the pink volcano. It's a fucking hard spot to skate because the tiling. We charged up the sidewalk to it, and gt had his greatest moments that I've seen him skate, excepting maybe the gap at yuanshan. IS skated the volcano a totally different  way, and then p got all japanesey about it, until he had a lil slam. At the core, this is why I love skating street. A whole crew of people at various levels of skill but who all approach the spot in a competely different way. Some rode ubikes to the next spot because they are of weak moral fiber, but the rest of us skated. At the north end of the orange line is a sharp left hook with a flat and some grindy curbs and a manny pad. We got one beer into the spot and security came out, a first in four years of skating there.

He was an old man, probably accustomed to chasing off hobos pissing in bushes. We surrounded him, skateboards in hand. He put his hands together and laughlingly asked us to please reconsider skating the manny pad, and could we maybe think about just grinding the granite stairs instead? We appologized for teh inconvenience and headed towards home. They all ducked into the mrt and I beered up and eventually ended up home.

A Sad Update on the Bridge

The Bridge is the spiritual epicenter of street skating in Taipei. First, the city fenced it off for a year, but let us skate in it during controlled hours. Then, a month ago, they shut it down for "plumbing repairs." It was scheduled to reopen on October 1st, but now it's been delayed at least another month. Nothing seems to have happened at the site. Taking the Bridge away from us has been a bit like kicking out the homeless people from Main Station; tossing their boxes and posessions without warning adn sending them alone out into the streets. We didn't have much here, or ask for it, just a place to be.  We (not me, other, more devoted people) payed for it and built it and maintained it. OK, I bought some cement bags and tried to patch some shit, but I'm tooting my own feeble horn. Truth is, a core of devoted life long skaters built and maintained a DIY in the middle of hte city and it became a haven, a kabaa, for skating, and now I'm starting the think the city is slyly trying to take it away, delay by delay. There is no reason we couldn't have been skating there for the last month. Or any reason to fence it all off to start with. At first, we just shrugged it off, and laughed. More street sessions for us. But the truth is, Taipei skating needs the Bridge. There is are two parks here, inaccessible for most, and filled to the brim with 4 year olds on push bikes, but even if they were skate only, they'd still be terribly designed and built even worse. If the Bridge really doesnt work for the city, I hope we can all find a suitable solution somewhere else. Otherwise, skateboarding is giong to spread out across the city like a metasticizing cancer and kill the whole thing.

fiftyone and done.

Although the air is filled with burning garbage so think that the details of 101 were smudged out, the weather was otherwise pleasantly blustery and sunny. IS and I hit up the secret ledge for an afternoon session. Someone had been there lately. The heavy marble stools and tables had been moved around, and the ledge was slightly faster. He got some new ***** lines around the place (there's a rounded curb up above the main ledge) and I got some slightly faster and longer *****s than previously. The mobile chodofu vendor rode around on the other side of the levee and filled the air with even worse pollution than smog. An old man bicycled up and parked almost literally on the ledge we were acttively skating. We did our best to skate around him, and after a dozen tries, he tottered off down the road. Where else on earth will someone park in the middle of a skate session? I don't know, I haven't traveled much.

We cruised down the smooth bike path past all the graffitti to the big three. The air quality got a lot worse. Our clothes stank from the smoke. There must have been a ground fire nearby, because even with the strong breeze, we couldn't escape it. As teh day faded, I looked over just in time to see IS ***** up, and ******** down the upper part of hte spot. I tapped out at 51 of the same. It was almost cold as I skated back home across the city.

Waffle Stomping tothe Big Five-Oh

This was a shitty session. It started out quite literally that way. I went into fami to get a water and on the way out, I saw a Chinese family waffle stomping their kids' shitty diapers into the storm drain. It was a beautiful sunny day with strong post-typhoon breezes. Sometimes, this proved a little annoying, because flip trips would get blown out from under me. It didn't deter the longboarders, who spent their trying to **-***** and skate around in circles. I skated around in circles and got 97/50 with *******s. I listened to their terrible, terrible music and left after I hit my mark. The cruise home was much more pleasant. It's partly downhill, and the sun had already mostly set by then. It's about a 20 min skate, at a reasonable pace, with pretty smooth surfaces and not too thick of a crowd, on a sunday evening. I popped a nice little series of flatground on the old slick grey tiles, and a couple holding hands with each other saw it all. As I rolled by, they stared me down with hate, but then the man gave a grunting thumbs up as we pass. He never cracked a smile though. Sometimes, I misinterpret situations, but it's easier to deal with here, since I have the excuse of being a foreigner. I'm pretty sure I didn't misinterpret the people trying their best to force diapers into the sewer though. That one was pretty clear.

free bird karaoke

lzyk and i had some problems, so we went to drink them off at a new place. the owner drank round after round with us and with wet streets outside. it never rained though. we paid $600 for all you can eat. i tried to teach him how to sing freebird, in case we go to karaoke later, and he learned a few parts of the song. I tried to learn his song, but i was told that he was making it up. i wish i had made up free bird.

The Polar Bear Hunter

I met a dude at a bar recently who is a professional polar bear hunter. We met up again so that I could complain about how terrible my life in paradise is. The Polar Bear Hunter told me that he had ridden early skateboards in the 60s. He and his brother made a skateboard out of roller skates and fastened them to a plank of wood. We went to the 100ntd/ plate restaurants just south of linsen bei and I walked back home in a suit in the rain, fending off whores and pimps and taxis. I feel like I have succeeded in Taiwan.

IS meets another scootering skater

(yesterday)

omg death just offered me a ride and I respect I fully declined!
A crimson smiling betel nut chewing fanatic was riding next to me on a scooter. He kept swerving into me in the street trying to get my attention.
I finally looked over and he's motioning me to grab onto his scooter and tow me on the wet street in the pouring rain. I nodded no and cheers with my beer an sped off like a bat out of hell. Normally I welcome this type of shit but this time I got too much to live for.

I Caint Talk to My Mother So I Talk to My Diary

Early work and insomnia and rain storms meant video night. First I watched some British skating, which makes NYC spots look like california. In Taipei, we are blessed with the smoothest surfaces and most beautiful ledges of anywhere in the world. They say China has a lot as well, but I'd rather not deal with the death air, among other things. Shoddy workmanship might be something in common: in the four months since our toilet broke, only I've been able to rig it up to flush again. The workmen just spat betel in the sink and milled around scratching their useless balls. Many months later, we still have an open toilet plan. There is no wall between the toilet and the living room. If you ever wonder if or if not you should marry someone, try to imagine living in an open toilet plan living room. If you can handle that, then yes, marry her. Also, Taipei luxury apartments might be for you.

I watched some loonybin and some pyramidcountry, and eventually wandered into the old 411s, as nostalgia overtook my better judgement. It used to be a lot rawer. Also, there was more terrible music. Anyone complaining about how bad modern music is needs to fuck right back to 1996 411s. Selection bias is a real thing.

Use your mind to skate. Thanks bob. In these times of revolution, you're going to encounter a counterrevolutionary man. Garry Shandling, Garry Shandling, Garry. Vert footage is like very, very technical footage. It's hard to care, no matter how good it is. I need to get a HORTY shirt. Oh I also watched some brasilian skating. The skating is maybe the second or third best style in the world, but I hate how they try to make it look like a sport. I can't wait to see some brasilian creativity. I know someone over there is doing it. I do like how raw these 411s are. The interviews are delightfully candid, and they pretty much just talk about how it's fun. There's certainly none of this two cameras for every skater bullshit. Fuck filming. It's worse than cops. At least, done wrongly, it's worse than most cops. Overfilming never shot anybody. I need to get a 411vm shirt as well. I like the slam sections in these videos too. I feel a more intense connection to the event. Ultimately, this is why filming is masturbatory bullshit. Filming is a filter, and skateboarding is a participatory event - it shouldn't be filtered through anything. At least when it's a particularly pure video, it's less filtered than this WeAreBlood happy horseshit. If anything is a predictor of how shitty and irrelevant a skatevideo is going to be, it's the size of the budget. Small budgets don't guarantee anything good, but big budgets almost universally guartantee some kind of redbull mountaindew trash. Also, I don't like robot tricks. It's way more exciting to see the drama of someone nearly not rolling away, especially at speed, than boring bolts.

If I hda the budget, I'd make a 30-60 min monthly vm, traveling to a different city each month. Also, I couldn't film any tricks, because I'm not good enough at skating or filming. But if it existed, it would be a fuck of a lot more interested to see than park footage or people skating the same street tricks on the same street terrain, trying to land ever closer to their bolts.

One thing 411#18 got right was bluntslides. Also, waffle house. Were I in God's Country right now, I'd be at a waffle house. Another contest would be to get 60 min of film and film whatever you can get. It's probably been done, but I don't know because I don't watch videos. I say that having watched about 8 straight hours of skate videos.

Inshallah, I can skate tomorrow night: my evening session is cancelled, so I can start at 7:00 or something.

Since skateboarding is only about the sport, I've invented a new way of scoring my skating. It has a consistency bias, but that's the point. Art isnt about consistency. One good painting, and you've done your life's work. Of course, you had to do a lot to get there, but that's not the point. The point is, I've been trying to do one more ******** everytime I skate. Next time I skate, that's going to be at 50. Originally, I thought that was going to go to 100 but it's eating up a lot of time and it's frankly pretty fucking boring. Instead, I've been counting in the Fibonacci sequence, and maybe I'll start doing that up to 100 for each trick. This isn't a reasonable way to spend my time either, but it goes like this:

try sequence           +                      total
1                            1                        1
2                            2                        3
3                           3                        6
4                             4                       10
5                           5                           15
6                           6                         21
7                             7                       28
8                            8                         36
9                            9                         45
10                          10                       55
11                           11                      66
12                           12                       78
13                           13                       91
14                           14                      a ton

so if I do the first 14, then i met the n goal. of course, I wont, so the (+) needs to reset when I miss one. ex

try sequence            +                      total
1                             1                        1
2                              2                       3
3                               3                      6
4                              4                       10
******************************      missed
5                               1                       11
6                               2                       13
7                               3                        16   etc

so fourteen in a row means I don't need to practice it, but if i can't land it consecutively at all then I ll do it 100 times.

I have to do improtant things in a few hours. I think I've obsessed about this enough for the night.

187 ona mfcp

I wasnt gonna skate but the weather was relatively cool (ie not ball sweltering hot in the first ten minutes) and IS said he could skate, and lzyk had to do some pro shit. So out I went to the three stair park. It sucked. Partially, because I didn't take my asthma meds, which are apparently a new way of life, adn partially, because I've lived without skating in a super polluted shithole for week or two. The result was that when I went to warm up and run away with some *********s and maybe slowly rollaway from whatever grinds and slides I could manage at the three stair park, I was doubled over, hacking up litres of phlegm in no time. Some kids cheered when I got some *******s and an alternative lifestyle couple cheered me a few times, which was kind of touching, since I think they can only spend their time together in the public park on national holiday, but maybe I"m projecting. I swept the tree debris out of hte way, and soon was ****** for several squares of curb, which elicited squeals from teh onlookers. WHen the breeze blew through, it was too cool, and when it didn't, it was stiffling.

IS rode up and we hit the sidewalks. we slammed up the yellow metal loading grates, and no security came outside. we *******d and ****** the stairs and curbs, especially the flat to 2 stair metal curb, which needed wax to get going. THen we crossed teh street to see the black bank, and maybe got abducted by aliens, because for about ten minutes, we couldnt find each other, evne though we had just been cruising together on the same stretch of sidwalk. Next up was the bronze curbs, which went lovelily, and I even filmed IS in a line, which I don't normally care ot do, but this one was too pure to ignore. Next try, he made a joke about slamming and promptly slammed, with the board shooting far out into traffic. Thankfully, it was on a redlight, so no one died. We beered up and skated back to the black bank, but it was just horsing around at this point. On the back side of the staiton is a spot that I've never tried; and ***** up to 90 degree turn to ledge on the goofy side. I've been by there dozens of times, but never thought about waxing it and doing the thing. IS did, while security ominously came and went, without smoking a cigarette. As he continued to try, the popos rolled up on their scooters. Imagine the most intimidating scooter you can imagine, adn then some guys in bullet proof vests riding them, who get dismount from their steeds, hands on holsters. They were angry that I pretned I couldnt understand that they were saying I should go to a skatepark (the only skatepark within an hour is currently completley shut down, and even on regular nights, is now closed at 22:00 anyway), but IS and I played the ting boo dong card adn got away without getting tazed. THis launched us into several hours of stories about how this kind of interaction goes down in america though, and while cops who pull up on us pretending to draw their guns are a bit silly, in Taipei, they're a damn sight better than real american cops actually doinig the same with guns drawn.

I'm happy to live in a relatively free country. Taipei police, yall need to chill. we left as soon as you showed up, even though we weren't skating (anymore). what more do you want?

edit: 49

A Rovin', A Rovin', A Rovin', I'll go

If you move to the antipodes, you will leave many things behind. Some of those things will be problems. If you're lucky, as I am, you will leave problems, regrets, anxieties, misery, hopelessness, traffic, high prices, embrassament, humiliation, hatred, and love. Some of those things will inevitably be people as well. Many of those people, about you once felt hatred or fear or jealousy or envy or anger or disappointment  or frustration, will fade from your daily concienseness, like the contrail of the airplane you came on. Love doesn't fade. You will find it relatively easy to keep in touch with your closest loved ones. In the modern age, we just live in a mirror reflection of day/night time zones. Things are really no different than if you lived just out of convenient driving range. You might even see each other once or twice a year. Many, many people will be replaced by their equivalents in your new home. You may login to social media a few times year after having beers on the rooftop to find out what's happened in their lives, and get a sort of pleasure from the experience, but you aren't a child, so you don't participate in much social media and you're aware that you and those people have been slowly growing apart anyway, like leave son the same tree. After a half decade or so, you'll find you've held onto the ones you love, and mostly let go of the bad stuff. Running away mostly works. Maybe when you go back for a visit, there are some beerful tears and apologies and vows to stay closer, but they come to naught. Inevitably, there are a couple of people who defy the easy categories. Maybe a friend who fucked you out some money, but you can spend a weekend at the beach with ignoring the fact. Maybe a family member from whom you've grown apart, but still manage to make it work for the short times you're in the same room. Maybe it's someone you never skated with because you both thought you had grown out of it, but who stuck a tack through his cheek the first night you met him because "any man can do whatever the fuck he wants." In my case, you don't talk for years, because the shame of failure taints the escape from your homeland, and that is the only person who you think knows the whole story and about whose opinion of yourself you give two flying fucks. So you just avoid it. You don't call or write or talk or send a line message. You always knew no one was going to live to the end of time. When your first friend died, your dad had said, "from now on, it's either you or them." Then you get some bad news, and give the man a call. From the rooftop in the middle of the night, the signal is bad. You get some words in, but nothing consequential. At least you heard his voice.

46&2

It was caustically hot. The sun tore down out of the sky without mercy. IS and I trudged over ot the flight path circles, but they were too chunky and most of all, the heat was almost unbearable. We pushed down the path, mile upon mile of swealtering asphalt, past basketball courts and flat gaps and bigger gaps and an 8x2 court that was an ideal flatground spot. We went to the white rails, and the aztec temple banks, and went home. We founda brilliant tiled hip, but didn't skate it because it was huge and we were hot. My shadow's shedding skin. I think I'm giong to rest for the remainder of the week. My ankles are raw from trying to catch underflipped *********s.

The Ghost of Jiantan

It was typhooning ever so slightly, so I went up to the secret bridge. Dozens of people were sitting on the ledge, which was kind of wet anyway, so I dismantled my 47 on the flatground while htey ran around shouting. Later, I found out they were shouting so much because they're a deaf club. RMJ showed up and did some japanese style technical work, first ****** to ***** to ******* to ***** on the platforms, then *** to ***** *** on a short little step. Then IS and a new guy arrived almost at the same time, and the deaf crew left. The nature of the session changed dramatically as the rain started falling harder. I slide some long ** ****** but couldn't roll away from any. As a consumate professional, I always come prepared, and since there isn't a convenient 7 nearby, I brought a cooler with ice and beer. We talked for a few hours, watching the rain, and then found a man wallowing in the mud and rain, like a drunk mix of a dog rolling in filth and an upside down turtle that can't right itself. We walked him to the bridge to get out of hte rain, but he refused to sit or rest and stumbled on down the road into the night. He must have been a ghost, because there is nothing down that path for miles.

Taiwan Loves a Winner

Be seated. 

Men, all this stuff you hear about Taiwan not wanting to work, wanting to stay out of the office, is a lot of bullshit. Taiwanese love to work. All real Taiwanese love the drudgery and repetition of business. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big-league basketball players and the toughest esports players. Taiwanese love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Taiwanese work to win all the time. That's why Taiwanese have never lost a negotiation and will never lose a negotiation. The very thought of losing money is hateful to Taiwanese. Business is the most significant competition in which a man can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. 

You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would be cheated in a major negotiation. Every man is tired in his first quarter without a single day off. If he says he's not, he's a goddamn liar. But the real hero is the man who works even though he's tired. Some men will get over their fatigue in a 2 Minute Pitch, some take an hour, and for some it takes days. But the real man never lets his fear of talking to people overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood. 

All through your career you men have bitched about what you call 'this chicken-shit busywork.' That is all for a purpose—to ensure instant obedience to orders and to create constant obedience. This must be bred into every worker. I don't give a fuck for a man who is not always on his keyboard. But the busywork has made veterans of all you men. You are ready! A man has to be working all the time if he expects to keep on getting paid. If not, some son-of-a-bitch PM from another company will sneak up behind him and beat him to death with a sock full of shit. There are four hundred neatly marked graves of cancelled projects in Hsinchu, all because one man went to sleep on the job—but they are other companies' projects' graves, because we caught the bastard salesreps asleep before his PM did. 

A business is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, and works as a team. This individual hero stuff is bullshit. The bilious bastards who write that stuff for the Taipei Times don't know any more about real work than they do about fucking. And we have the best team—we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity these poor bastards we're going up against. 

All the real heroes are not storybook integrated network architects. Every single man in the business plays a vital role. So don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. What if every truck driver decided that he didn't like the taste of binlang and turned yellow and jumped headlong into a ditch? That cowardly bastard could say to himself, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands.' What if every man said that? Where in the hell would we be then? No, thank God, Taiwanese don't say that. Every man does his job. Every man is important. The backfacing code men are needed to supply the backfacing code, the B2B marketing man is needed to bring up the brand awareness and clothes for us because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last damn man in the mess hall, even the one who boils the water to keep us from getting the GI shits, has a job to do. 

Each man must think not only of himself, but think of his buddy working alongside him. We don't want lazy cowards in the company. They should be fired off like flies. If not, they will go back home after work, goddamn lazy cowards, and breed more lazy cowards. The hardworking men will breed more hardworking men. Fire these the goddamn lazy cowards and we'll have a nation of hardworking men. 

One of the bravest men I saw in the ad campaign was on a telegraph pole in the midst of furious criticism while we were moving toward Tainan. I stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing up there. He answered, 'Fixing the customer service call number, sir.' 'Isn't it a little unhealthy up there right now?' I asked. 'Yes sir, but this goddamn wire has got to be fixed.' I asked, 'Don't those scooters strafing the road bother you?' And he answered, 'No sir, but you sure as hell do.' Now, there was a real worker. A real man. A man who devoted all he had to his work, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his work appeared at the time. 

And you should have seen the trucks on the road to Gaoshiung. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they crawled along those son-of-a-bitch roads, never stopping, never deviating from their course with horns honking all around them. Many of the men drove over 400 consecutive hours. We got through on good old Taiwanese guts. These were not office men. But they were workers with a job to do. They were part of a team. Without them the profit would have been lost. 

Sure, we all want to go home. We want to get this work over with. But you can't make money lying down. The quickest way to get it over with is to finish the bastard spreadsheets. We want to get the hell over there and clean the goddamn thing up, and then get at those purple-pissing graphs. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home. The shortest way home is through Banciao and Linkou. So keep moving. And when we get to Banciao, I am personally going to call the entire company outside and burn joss money and incense in a little metal trashcan with dozens of tables filled with fruit and candy. 

When a man is sitting at his desk, if he just stays there all day, a breaktime will get him eventually. The hell with that. My men don't take breaks. Breaks only slow up a project. Keep moving. We'll make this profit, but we'll make it only by working and showing competitors that we marginally undercut their product line by cutting corners they don't even know they have.  We're not just going to undercut the bastards, we're going to rip out their living goddamned guts and use them to grease the treads of keyboards. We're going to murder those lousy competitors cocksuckers by the bushel-fucking-basket. 

Some of you men are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out in the evenings. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you'll all do your duty. Working all night is a bloody business, a tiring business. The competitors are the enemy. Wade into them, spill their printer ink or they will spill yours. Shoot them emails about nothing. Rip open junkmail. When phonecalls are coming in all around you and you wipe the dirt from your face and you realize that it's not dirt, it's the ink and felt of what was once your best dry erase marker, you'll know what to do. 

I don't want any messages saying 'I'm holding my laptop closed while it charges.' We're not holding a goddamned thing. We're working constantly and we're not interested in charging anything except the enemy's antiquated mouseballs. We're going to hold him by his mouseballs and we're going to kick him in the ass; twist his mouseballs and kick the living shit out of him all the time. Our plan of operation is to work and keep on working. We're going to go through the workday like shit through a tinhorn. 

There will be some complaints that we're pushing our people too hard. I don't give a damn about such complaints. I believe that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of money. The harder we push, the more money we make for the owner. The more money we make, the fewer of our men will be fired. Pushing harder means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that. My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any worker under my command being head hunted unless he is laid-off first. Even if you are laid-off, you can still work. That's not just bullshit either. I want men like the PM in Linkou who, with a three ring binder against his chest, swept aside the binder with his hand, jerked out smart from his pocket with the other and busted the hell out of the revenue with the three ring binder. Then he picked up the smartphone and he killed another salespitch. All this time the man had a spreadsheet on his laptop. That's a man for you! 

Don't forget, you don't know I'm here at all. No word of that fact is to be mentioned in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell they did with me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this office. I'm not even supposed to be in Taoyuan. Let the first bastards to find out be the accounts receivable clerks. Some day, I want them to rise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl 'Ach! It's the goddamned internal auditors and that son-of-a-bitch normalg again!' 

Then there's one thing you men will be able to say when this work is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you're sitting by your TV with your grandson on your knee and he asks, 'What did you do in the office?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy shoveled shit in Sanchong.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say 'Son, your granddaddy analyzed deep learning trends in Asia-Pacific regional marketing for Bubble Popping and Candy Crunching smartphone apps with the internal auditing department and a son-of-a-goddamned-bitch named normalg!' 

All right, you sons of bitches. You know how I feel. I'll be proud to lead you wonderful guys in conference rooms anytime, anywhere. That's all.