Getting back in touch

Tonight, I reconnected with Taipei like two magnets smacking together at the last second. I couldn't rouse any troops so I went to the place where you go in such hard times; the bridge. I got some water and was in the cross walk the by the green prison bars the city has so thoughtfully installed to keep us out after hours, and saw a crowd of people, some of whom apparently know my name, because they shouted it. When I got around inside, I couldn't believe it; it was BT and LPJ. I hadnt seen the latter in at least a year, and not much of the former. I only had about 30 minute sbefore lights out but I spent it catching up instead of skating. The lights went out, and we kept talking, becuase the security was cool. I threw down my skateboard as we left, and heard them shouting my name again, but I was really anxious to get going so I didnt turn around. Somone kept shouting my name, so I turned around and it was SRU, and we chatted some more.

The social key bump got me going for some solo skating through the city of my dreams. I went for optimistic flatground and smashed myself a few times inthe crosswalks as taxis and scooters and weirded out pedestrians watched. Within 30 minutes, I was ready to call it quites, but I ran into a dude I remembered from way back, who sells fruit on the street late night. This is not a euphemism. I got some watermelon ($50/box and had to choke down the end of it because it was so much food) slammed a tb at middle mountain station (there is no mountain anywhere nearby but i guess it's a pretty central station) and went with the traffic and the chaos. The whole point was to cruise flatground and get 27**s, which I did, although some of them were suspect.

The last ones ended up being done as I passed an old haunt and smashed myself into the asphalt and decided to land 24-27 and circle the block and come back from some grilled meat and beer. I didn't know they had all seen me do it, but when I came back, I got a welcomed with some tipped beers and nodded heads. I was soaked to the anus and smelled like it, so I sat outside.

Old Place (now called Good Place) goes a long way explaning why I can't leave this city. It's a small, indoor/outdoor izakaya that serves decent grilled skewers, like pork, beef, mushrooms, asparagus wraps, corn, chicken small intestines, pork large intestines, an assortment of fish and fish balls, and beer on yellow plastic folding tables, surrounded by black plastic low stools. The owner (I'm pretty sure he's the owner, but a good sign for places like this is you can't tell who actually works there and who is just helping out) greeted me and slapped hands and poured me a beer, inspite of my filthy state. Then I ate and drank as much as I could fit in my gullet for $650, and then the staff came outside to talk, because some how, they fucking remembered me even though I havne't been there in a year. I ate and drank with some restaurant staff from next door til they switched off the lights. I mostly skated home.