tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37127473882256416582024-02-07T13:24:57.773-08:00SJ McNultyWritings 1979-Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-10648597691987987102014-12-08T22:26:00.000-08:002014-12-09T02:34:40.485-08:00Look There, On The Rocks<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinX2z1PmJyeDkeSyTQ6X2JJ4dxf5tkhTpQzocVBkj1pTzylPnZiNwS0wG45U-8F9QBuSQJkf5Uxoc7rygW8NEYLchr7eWvvXPvwNSiEQHbd0zZeAQCDCi1I4X1c6z52KESd8Kpl7lSfcIu/s1600/puffins_Iceland_westfjords12-1024x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinX2z1PmJyeDkeSyTQ6X2JJ4dxf5tkhTpQzocVBkj1pTzylPnZiNwS0wG45U-8F9QBuSQJkf5Uxoc7rygW8NEYLchr7eWvvXPvwNSiEQHbd0zZeAQCDCi1I4X1c6z52KESd8Kpl7lSfcIu/s1600/puffins_Iceland_westfjords12-1024x768.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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'It looks like it will clear up soon enough,' the captain
said before they set sail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'But for the
time being, just roll with the punches, ladies and lads. You're with the Merlin
of Mariners, the wizard of the west seas.'</div>
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The ship captained by the Merlin of Mariners was named the
Kay Two, a large wise-looking old steamboat which had ferried tourists to and
from the islands throughout its busy existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Captain Merlin liked to tease his passengers
when they asked why she was named Kay Two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You would imagine there was a story behind the name, but in fact, the
only story behind it was the want of having a story to tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes she was Kay Two because Kay One had
run aground off the coast of Spain during a fierce storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes Kay Two after Kay One, the girl who
broke Captain Merlin's heart back in the days when he was just <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a lowly cabin boy with the soul of a poet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes Kay Two after the famous mountain
to publicise its strength and savagery when tested and hopefully scare the
oceans. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">He changed the story around to suit his mood. </span>The steamboat was an unpopular
vessel, too difficult to maintain and environmentally problematic, so it tended
to be frowned upon as a relic, its thermodynamic genius underappreciated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However it still had its part to play in the
tourism game regardless of modern opinion, its vintage charm proving attractive
to nostalgia lovers in their sprinkled hordes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lucy was one of ten such enthusiastic tourists now who had boarded the
Kay Two for a short trip to the islands off the coast of Kerry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of her fellow passengers were older
belated holidaymakers, and there was at least one younger couple there, in
idyllic embrace, who were quite content to brave the harsh weather in the hope of
seeing the puffins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That young couple were
snuggled up together now, in matching yellow life-jackets, whispering delicate
phrases of romantic assurance to one another, whilst gazing overboard into a
cloudy abyss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Earlier that day, Eddie had left her standing at the hotel with
her oversized raincoat flailing in the wind and holding a soggy leaflet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She'd looked like a right fool standing there
with that bloody raincoat on as he jogged off to wherever with his vulgar golf
umbrella.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Took a last look at the
leaflet she'd picked up in the hotel lobby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'Puffin Island Steamboat' was blotched from the rain and barely readable
anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She'd dumped it in the nearest
bin, and headed for the harbour.</div>
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As the Kay Two advanced out to sea, the rain sharpened and
the wind pushed harder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were yelps
to be heard from passengers as the boat ploughed into the gnarling waves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Brace
yourselves, folks,' cried Captain Merlin from the top deck. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A shower of ice pebbles battered them as the boat
was whipped around in the momentary chaos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Any time soon, they would be ripped to smithereens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the others covered their faces, Lucy
lifted hers up to the attack, and let the cold bullets and bluster pound her
head-on. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She enjoyed being in this
death grasp....like tumbling around in a washing machine or something....maybe
a good time to do some deep personal cleansing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Captain Merlin also seemed to be doing his laundry out here, throwing
himself at the ocean, daring the wind, releasing his demons to meet those of
his past....an apprentice Ahab, Lucy thought<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">......I
stab at thee....I stab at thee....I spit my last breath at you, you washing
machine.</i></div>
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Lucy just wanted to see the puffins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all she'd talked about in the days and
weeks leading up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Forget the puffins,
I'm not going out in this rain,' Eddie had said to her that morning after
breakfast and he'd had a point, to be fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a horrible day and they no longer had time in their schedule to
procrastinate, these being the final few hours of the trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had put the puffins off to the last day
and now the heavens were disagreeing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was so cold and damp the puffins would probably be tucked up indoors anyway, in
their puffin-shaped caves on the cliffs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'If you really want to see the puffins, go by your selfish self.'</div>
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Lucy could just about make out Puffin Island through the fog
and frenzy in front of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked
ghostly and inhospitable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
pictures she had seen, it looked like the most peaceful and wonderful place on
Earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those images suggested the kind
of enchanted place that every individual dreamed of owning, their own concealed
world of calm and beauty, away from the clamour and the perils of the everyday.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those images diverged from the bleak
violent landscape that now loomed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
song 'I am a rock, I am an island'.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
metaphor didn't work in this case as the island seemed somewhat alien to human
understanding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The 'I' could never get
near this rock, let alone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">be</i> it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't look like a place for humans at
all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not what the postcard said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great song though, no offence to Paul Simon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The island was OFFICIALLY not meant for humankind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tourist boats usually just drifted around it
so that the passengers had an opportunity to view the birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Special permission was required in order to
board the island, and this was generally only offered to researchers and
scientists and the like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puffins were
merely to be observed from a distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You could admire their stunning black plumage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marvel at their extraordinarily coloured
beaks from afar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Study their habits if
you got close enough and maybe come away with some new knowledge of fortitude
in nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The puffins lay in wait
hopefully, so in the meantime, Lucy aimed her investigative beam on the happy
young couple who were now smiling and joking with some other passengers and
simultaneously kissing each other on the necks, ears, foreheads, hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ferocity of the conditions didn't seem to
trouble them at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They held a robust
shape together, unfitted to, yet unconcerned with the environment surrounding
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could have been standing in a
gorgeous autumnal glade right now watching a blackbird build its nest in a tree
while discussing their future together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Crackling rain, booming gales, and a world in turmoil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this was just another backdrop of many
for these two and their indestructible spirit the bastards.</div>
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Eddie called her his 'little cactus', referring to the spiky
desert plant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was meant as a term of
affection, of course, jokingly noting her dry prickly demeanour, though she
often thought there was a passive aggressive aspect to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She couldn't fool herself about her own
passive aggression in the relationship however.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was there alright, sitting in the background scowling, as most
passive aggressions are known to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
had a knack for starting arguments in public places, and elevating them to rows
when they should have been voiced in the confines of their own happy
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew when she was doing
wrong, but usually in hindsight, and in the heady moments of a bickering, you
weren't given to general overview.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
were regrettably given to general oversight as it was always going to be you
who was in the right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eddie was a good
man, and she loved him, but he'd grown weary of the uproar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was good at putting on the show of an
ideal couple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He role-played stability
on many an occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But recently even
he had given up on the show, and was capable of fuelling the public conflicts
too, handing the meek role back to Lucy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These quarrels were a strain on both of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter who was stoking the flame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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'Horrible day,' came a voice to her left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A man wearing a bright red baseball cap had
rolled up beside her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was quite
handsome, though he had a rough beard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lucy didn't like beards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got
into a dispute on the subject one time with a close friend who only dated
potential rock stars with nice clothes as a rule.</div>
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'Yes,' she replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'Extremely horrible.'</div>
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'It's a-huffin' and a-puffin'.......you get
it........puffin'?'</div>
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'Yeah,' she laughed.</div>
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'Have you been out here before?'</div>
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'No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First time.'</div>
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'You know, I hope we can see the puffins.'</div>
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'I'm sure they will be there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This weather wouldn't stop them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They're used to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And worse.'</div>
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'Yeah, they're pretty resilient, that's for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've always had it in mind to come out to see
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always loved puffins.'</div>
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'Same here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I
was a kid.'</div>
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'No way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fantastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's also the fact that
we have to come way out here to see them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It's not like going to a zoo or anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To get to see them, we have to drag ourselves
through all this sludge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They're very
special.'</div>
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'Absolutely.' </div>
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'Sorry, I'm Gabriel.'</div>
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'Lucy.'</div>
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'Nice to meet you, Lucy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You're here alone?'</div>
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'Eh, yeah.'</div>
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'Too bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at the same time, I like to
take these trips by myself sometimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It's good to be free from the rat-race, you know.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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'Oh, yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like it
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though my husband is with me, just
not here right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's back on the shore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wouldn't come out in the rain.'</div>
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'Oh, my.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a
weakling.'</div>
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'Yeah,' she laughed.</div>
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'He wouldn't even take a spot of rain on the face and wind
in the hair for you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd call that quite
pathetic.'</div>
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'Yeah.'</div>
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'No significant other of mine would find herself sailing the
stormy seas alone, that's for sure.'</div>
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He was laughing as he spoke, padding his delivery with jest,
but Lucy felt a little uneasy about the comment, so she just smiled awkwardly
and nodded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was perhaps too strong a
thing to say considering they had only just started talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were complete strangers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The small talk had taken a nosedive rather
quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if Lucy did feel inclined at that minute to
accept any input in the form of mockery concerning Eddie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man continued talking for a while, but
Lucy simply nodded and made faint responses without looking him in the
eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew it was quite rude to do so,
but she wanted to convey that she'd been slightly offended by his abrupt
comment about her husband, light-hearted though it may have been, so she worked
to somehow bring him back to an appropriate level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had often done this with Eddie, and it
had worked a few times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keep
tight-lipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make him sweat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not psychological torture, but within
spitting distance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was something
she'd learned from her mother in the younger years before dad died of a
perforated ulcer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However the device
didn't seem to work on this particular man. </div>
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'You're not very talkative,' he said.</div>
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'Just not in a good mood.'</div>
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'Right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why not?'</div>
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'Eh, I'd rather not talk about it.'</div>
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'Okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of my business?'</div>
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'Well, no, it isn't, but mostly, I'd just prefer not to talk
about it with a stranger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm on
holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trying to get away from
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bit of peace.'</div>
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'Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peace?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take a look around you, doll.'</div>
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'Doll? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> I'm not a
doll.'</div>
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'Fair enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You're
quite a negative person, aren't you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
bit cold.'</div>
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'Cold?'</div>
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'I can see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway,
forget about it, I'll step away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don't
need this shit.'</div>
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Had she done something wrong?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe she'd overreacted,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>met the conversation with a surfeit of
sensitivity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew she could be a
bitch sometimes, but the communication lines were always so blurred she
couldn't be sure of her mark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the man
stepped away from her, she tried to get his attention and smooth things over,
but he was muttering and swearing under his breath, so she just avoided
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whole thing left her feeling
shocked and aggravated.</div>
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The waters started to settle as the island got closer and
the mist began to clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sunlight slowly
bled through the dark smoky air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Above,
a heavy ceiling of grey smear that made you feel groggy when you looked at it
was now giving way for something more bearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Kay Two seemed to be floating on a bed of cloud which was now dispersing
and the rippling ocean floor was once more becoming visible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things were nearly blue again.</div>
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'I can see some, look,' shouted the young girl, unshackling
herself from her lover for the first time on the trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Where?' her man asked, trying to contain
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'There.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her eyesight must have been good because whatever
she was pointing at was undetected by every other person on board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the Kay Two closed in on the island, it
gradually became evident that indeed her eyesight was excellent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small group of puffins could be seen on a
gigantic muffin-shaped rock at the bottom of the island's abrasive-looking
cliffs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plump little black statues with
bright red and orange markings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boat
was overcome with giddiness.</div>
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The puffins barely moved, and when they did, they walked
aimlessly and clumsily, like inattentive schoolchildren, often bumping into one
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a magic about
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A stillness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clouds had broken enough to allow the sunlight
into their zone, shrouding their part of the island in a warm syrupy glow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like the sun had started shining just
for the puffins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hadn't shined on
anyone or anything else all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the
puffins were doing a drowsy dance in it, a sweet shimmy to show their
support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a fabulous thing to see a
creature like the puffin in real life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It makes you think about all the things you have seen, and might see,
all the things you want to see, and will never see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All things seen and unseen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's the power of puffins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All observers on deck looked at these things
that were for the first time not a talking puppet, not a humanised character on
a cereal box, not a dancing animation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were dancing alright, but just in their eyes, in real life, and in
the dreamy sunlight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For Lucy, the puffins now unlocked restrictions on the
past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Childhood came bubbling back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those memories incarcerated by the government
of adulthood and widening of responsibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Innocence. Adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pure
unadulterated joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Butter melting on toast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Playing hopscotch with Ann and June, her best
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jason Donovan posters on her
bedroom wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ms. Lundy, her English
teacher, Sophia Loren at the blackboard, her idol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smell of her favourite Nancy Drew
book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would go to the library
everyday just to smell it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puffin Pops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would get up early each morning for a
bowl and cover them in mountains of sugar and look at the cute puffin on the
cereal box as she ate them all up. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the Kay Two found a spot to sit for the passengers to get
a good look, the puffins noticed them, and began to look right back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A long period of gawking began in which all
present in the moment, whether off the rocks or on them, freely participated
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The puffins were tickled about what
was unfolding before them, but they had no cameras to take pictures like their
guests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could see some of the elder
puffins huffing grumpily in the background about this arrogant new technology
and pining a simpler time for puffins, but the younger ones were captivated and
just gawked at the Kay Two with curiosity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One particular puffin seemed larger and was perched in the
shadows overlooking the others, at the tip of a thin skewer-like rock that
pointed out to sea like an arrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
captain, when he spotted this puffin, left the wheel and grabbed his camera to
take a picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The passengers, seeing
this moment of excitement arise, followed suit, grabbing their variously shaped
cameras in unison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The enormous
silhouette of the bird just stood there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some people called out that maybe it wasn't a puffin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were many other dark seabirds to be
found on the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Razorbills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Manx.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guillemots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Petrels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'No, no,' said the captain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'It's
a puffin.....I think.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other puffins
began bleeping and blooping amongst themselves.....puffin-chatter....a peculiar
sound....like synthesised versions of puffins to an audience of humans who had
only heard these sounds through snippets of audio on wildlife websites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The birds then started tapping their bills
together like they had been reunited after many years away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually they stopped the commotion and
suddenly all of them seemed to look straight up at the eerie figure on the skewer-like
ledge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Lucy focused her attention on the larger bird, she noticed
it was actually moving in a fluttery way, wriggling, almost as though it was
shivering with the cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These shakes
began to increase, disturbingly so, and there were gasps from all the
passengers when it fell seemingly dead from its stoop and splashed into the
sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A twenty foot drop at least.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'The poor thing,' cried a lady.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Oh, that's terrible,' said another.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'We should get the body,' shouted Gabriel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'It might be a rare one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People will be interested.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Perhaps,' said the captain, a little reluctant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'If it's really rare, it might be worth money.. . and some media
attention.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'That's terrible,' said an older woman, the one who had said
That's terrible before, her silent husband nodding in endorsing disapproval.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Swing around, Cap,' said Gabriel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'We'll take a look,' said Captain Merlin.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Kay Two chugged leisurely to the area where the bird had
fallen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I don't want to see a dead puffin,' protested the young
girl who had first spotted the birds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Don't worry, sweetie,' said her other half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'It might not be a puffin.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'It'll still be dead though whatever it is.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the Kay Two eventually reached the bird, it looked like
a crumpled old leather jacket someone had dumped in the sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the boat moved in closer, Gabriel
stretched his arms out further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It still
looked big on closer inspection, but maybe not as huge as they'd first thought
when they saw it perched on the ledge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Well, is it a puffin or not?' someone asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Get closer in,' Gabriel yelled to Captain Merlin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'I can't reach it.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Be careful you don't fall over,' said the captain.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I can reach it.....is there a big stick or something I can
use?'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Be careful there,' said the captain once more, but by then
it was too late.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gabriel had been<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stretching so far out that he slipped over
the edge of the boat and flopped into the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically Lucy had at that moment been
picturing him falling over in a private revenge fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe she had willed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knows?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gabriel splashed around frantically looking for the bird,
but it wasn't there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon after, he
realised he couldn't swim so well and started struggling to get back on the
boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucy was the first to stretch out
her hand, but as she did, he was suddenly sucked under.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was the current.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe Jaws.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe a Russian sub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knew
what lay waiting in the depths of the devilish North Atlantic?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Where'd he go?' asked Captain Merlin, still at the wheel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'He's away under,' someone said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shocked insecure expressions, yet nobody on the boat was moved
enough to help. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucy thought of her
last swimming experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three swims up
and down the local 20 metre pool, only stopping twice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She'd done alright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could she possibly be the one to jump in and
save that asshole?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were all soaking
wet anyway from the consistent spatter of sea and rain, so she would just get a
bit wetter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Oh, okay,' Lucy said, resignedly, when there didn't appear
to be any intention of rescuing him showing in the faces of the other
passengers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A bunch of puffins had gathered on the cliffs to get a
better view of things as Lucy carefully lobbed herself over the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She lowered herself into the water and
eventually broke away, plunging into the freezing unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She immediately felt she would die of the
cold and that Gabriel was probably already dead from it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, he was thrashing away underneath not
far from the Kay Two, struggling to get a grip of the water as though it was
something you could grab hold of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Many shapes washed over her in the underwater gloom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clumps of moss and grit swirled in a chalky mess,
crystal froth and fizzle appearing like lonesome eyeballs expanding and
vanishing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bizarre creatures of the deep
forming in the ghoulish vapour and passing by like ghost train dummies as she
crawled toward an hysterical Gabriel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the dusty space around her, she thought she glimpsed the fallen bird, come to
life again, gliding slowly in a gleaming ball of light, then suddenly shooting
downwards into the profound insides of the ocean like it had something very
urgent to be getting on with down there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The mind plays tricks on you in the stark places of the world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It wasn't long before she reached Gabriel and pushed him up
to the surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were cheers and
applause from the boat and some puffins high-fived with their beaks as Lucy
guided him back to safety.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A tall young guy had come out of the engine room to
help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd been stuck in there all the
time and didn't know what was happening out on the deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody had clapped eyes on him until
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the old ladies nearly had a
heart-attack when she saw him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Good
God,' she cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The engine boy was
quite strong and he was able to wrench both Gabriel and Lucy out of the water
without hassle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were both given
towels and taken to the doorway of the engine room to get more heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gabriel's face was white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a bony anaemic voice, and extending very
little in the way of eye contact, he told Lucy 'Thanks'.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nobody on the boat had batted an eyelid about Lucy before
the incident, apart from Gabriel before he approached her, but now she was the
talk of their little floating and fleeting community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had caused quite a stir.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A valid hero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like Xena the warrior princess or something.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'You're a wonderful girl, doing that,' said an old lady,
coming up to Lucy as she stood shivering in her towel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'My husband didn't do a thing, and him and
his John Wayne films.......'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I'm 78 years old,' the husband retorted, rushing to his own
defence with a verbal sprightliness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yeah, 78 years watching John Wayne do all the dirty work.'
The lady turned to Lucy again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Here
love,' she said, producing a small half-empty bottle of dark rum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Have a snifter on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That'll warm you up.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Captain Merlin grunted with some relief as he turned his
ship around to make the journey back to base.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Kay Two also joined in the relief, releasing heavy blows of steam
which bellowed loudly and decisively into the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Lucy was being praised and celebrated by
the others, she looked back at the island moving away from them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would soon just be a postcard again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The puffins too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though before they were amputated from her
life entirely, she saw one flying down from a higher ridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It flapped its wings so rapidly and juddered
around in the wind so much as it flew that she thought there would be another
accident and another one in the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But for every limp descent, there was a brave surge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This little puffin seemed to know what it was
doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It landed sloppily on the nearest
rock fading from their sights and stared directly at Lucy as though it was saying
goodbye to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually it had simply forgotten
its destination mid-flight and just stopped on the rock to see if it could
remember, but that didn't matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not to
Lucy, who waved bye anyway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time the Kay
Two returned to dock, the weather had soothed considerably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day had been liberated of its dullness
and was now reborn unstained, clean air and quiet breeze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The passengers offered goodbyes to Captain
Merlin and the tall engine boy and then to each other before they set foot on
the rock-steady mainland once more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
all had to take a moment to shake off their feeling of sea-woozy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except Lucy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She held onto her wooziness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
it was quite a wooziness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Made more so
by the rum and rescue.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then she noticed Eddie.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was waiting for her at the harbour reading a
newspaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She thought in that instant
to disguise her unsteadiness in front of him, to hide herself and the day's
events from him, but there wasn't much point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She kept on as she was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eddie
glanced up at her as she drew near and looked down at his watch, suggesting
tacit scolding, and then he went back to his newspaper as she meandered woozily
past him without saying a single word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back on the island, the puffins rubbed their beaks together and
chatted excitedly amongst themselves about what might happen tomorrow when the
fog cracked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54vnnuustAaFfFh2ztgisoA-PbzwSURBU6evJPtBtnt6USorWDKEuq_4Okk5awukaTUzpEJB9mMywt02ZXyHf028e-ZwrEMlYfJNdC4smsq58cZM1UeABK14vfyafrJrxaRnVvGLXs2LK/s1600/PUFFIN2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54vnnuustAaFfFh2ztgisoA-PbzwSURBU6evJPtBtnt6USorWDKEuq_4Okk5awukaTUzpEJB9mMywt02ZXyHf028e-ZwrEMlYfJNdC4smsq58cZM1UeABK14vfyafrJrxaRnVvGLXs2LK/s1600/PUFFIN2.jpg" height="188" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-70070592104043219602014-06-29T14:09:00.001-07:002014-06-29T14:26:42.708-07:00Do Androids Dream of Electric Cigarettes?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsrSouSzvv4toAuwLFmUBv8ejOtL1QVy9C_aHAp2o6oZcPXc89rUODvCYzKDLL2zigEKPl-zc9hcTLVTAlBRcDYcGJnm52tfTzNCczwIRIWWv-FDuqTkj2ndeQ0geTzHqxRyVIhWcm-dC/s1600/computer-love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsrSouSzvv4toAuwLFmUBv8ejOtL1QVy9C_aHAp2o6oZcPXc89rUODvCYzKDLL2zigEKPl-zc9hcTLVTAlBRcDYcGJnm52tfTzNCczwIRIWWv-FDuqTkj2ndeQ0geTzHqxRyVIhWcm-dC/s1600/computer-love.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h3>
<i>for jenny</i></h3>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beauty and the Beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The French one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, the Jean Cocteau film.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah. Maybe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
La Belle et La Bete.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You like it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suppose you are Beauty and I'm the Beast then?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
:-)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
:-)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
:-I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I was sweating over
the computer in nervous anticipation of her reply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'd managed to get over the awkward
introduction and she had now indicated a willingness to respond, though it
wasn't <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>exactly a free pass to
smileytown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My emoticons had so far
landed on a blank screen and lay by themselves desperately hoping to be joined
by a companion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meeting people for
affairs or relationships online was not as easy as it had been in the entrance
days of the internet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That world was
now bigger than ever, a sleazy modern metropolis, over-populated, horribly polluted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sleazy joints were the best places to
pick up chicks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Www.chickschickchicks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That kind
of shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So it was more difficult to get
to the next stage with young women who were constantly picturing you with your
hand down your pants as you typed with the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Noooo, you're not a beast.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But how do
you know that?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
:-)<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(she smiled..........;-)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I might be doing beastly things right now. You would never
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are halfway around the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don't really know me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you don't know what I'm doing at this
moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could be cutting my toenails
and chewing on the shrapnel right now for all you really know. :-)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't think you're doing that hahaaa</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That's very confident of you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But you are right.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pardon?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't know who you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can't see you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This doesn't
seem real right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could be doing
beastly things.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't think you are a beast. If you were a beast, I
wouldn't be talking to you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What does it take to be a beast? Maybe I can live up to your
standards. :-)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Come on, describe your perfect beast. Ugly - check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Weird - check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>haha</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
;-)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A fake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sleazeball
who wants to scam you out of your money?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A wretched misogynistic
social mistake taking out all of his anger and frustration on unsuspecting
members of the cyber community?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hmmm.....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A filthy old man in his hovel indulging in all the sick
fantasies he missed out on before the internet came along?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eh...perhaps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I
don't know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many beasts
online, but it's the simple things that someone might do in real life that I
consider beastly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Simple things?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like what?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like smoking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
people who smoke are beasts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I remorsefully eyed my
bag of tobacco, the glossy packaging glistening in the shine of the laptop
screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was just planning to roll
another one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't know how to reply
to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Didn't know if I should just
tell her immediately that I was in fact her ideal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her ideal beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rolled the cigarette anyway to deliberate
on the next comment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wouldn't
know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wouldn't be able to see this
beastly act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my deception was safe,
so the beasts would have been proud of me.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
:-I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smoking?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, it's bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hate it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you smoke?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eh, yeah. Well, I used to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What?????</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I use
the e-cigarettes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
E-cigarettes?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You know, the electronic ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are not real cigarettes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not real tobacco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They emulate the sensation of smoking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's not smoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's 'vapour.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
E-cigarettes?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like E-mail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's not
mail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just exists in another
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An electronic place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What was real
anymore?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smoking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The beauty. The beast. We prayed in our
hearts to invisible gods for it to be real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But nothing seemed material. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything
in a dark foggy cloud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, a vapour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A vaporous mist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Modern being is the nightmare of the
solipsist.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last love story goes like this:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So Beauty and the Beast is your favourite film?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Great.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You may be a beast, and I may be a beauty. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But come what may, in reality or in fantasy, we
may at </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
least each have this day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNwqULtaN27U9LDn93VdS_NItyP51NkYKSIOJ05_Mw2jrhyphenhyphen9aeQkMXz5YeMhvhk6DeeuJdvjo_hn9jSfy07dwFS1fSGimIArZ6ngxF66ugjnHEbklw8LDuSZNusVhXzRKyhnr6kLcQHdR/s1600/love-computer-backgrounds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNwqULtaN27U9LDn93VdS_NItyP51NkYKSIOJ05_Mw2jrhyphenhyphen9aeQkMXz5YeMhvhk6DeeuJdvjo_hn9jSfy07dwFS1fSGimIArZ6ngxF66ugjnHEbklw8LDuSZNusVhXzRKyhnr6kLcQHdR/s1600/love-computer-backgrounds.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-52779388955588236842014-04-19T07:45:00.000-07:002014-04-19T07:45:03.531-07:00The Keepers of Magic Time<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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He would love the reeds hissing now in this late Summer breeze
and the sky blue and the fields wide awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The butterflies dancing with the light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But that's not my job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must
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I've made a bed of the warmest brown leaves my homestead these
days of paid grace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lying in the fields
studying a canvas of quiet variation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
may be the greatest job I have ever had. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The farmhouse etched into the furthest edges
of my shot has been the only sign of civilisation for the while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sits in silent opposition to my world, a
thumbnail on nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My society is the
cricket, thicket, crow, and crop now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Mr. Malick wants magic hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your job is to capture it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each day for three weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wait for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Catch it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then you can go
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'll pay you 5000 bucks for your
images.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Got it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good, now go get it!'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When magic hour comes, I'm electrified by the spell it casts
over our landscapes and the interaction it has with the living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the world's passivity collapses in this
seemingly somnambulant moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Birds
sing louder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My camera shoots
faster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wind blows wilder and freer .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart beats harder.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A grey sparrow appears at my side each day in the seconds
before the red indigo shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've heard
the renowned director has his spies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
become more industrious in the sparrow's company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something is watching over me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sparrow stands and waits.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Mr. Malick always shoots at magic hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day, all around the world, there are a
select group of cameramen in place, ready to seize the moment, to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>secure a place in Heaven. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people are his keepers of magic
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are now one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are now a keeper of magic time.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here it comes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
silver beams of daylight's abstraction slice through the frame and the world
above glows in a dark orange mask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Clouds are pink then yellow then green.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The structure of our universe is for a moment dissolved in a manic
miasma of change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Creatures of nature
long hidden become visible in the sparkling vision, revelations of shape and
colour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A festival is brought to the
soil from above and the earth sings unintelligible songs of joy in a flickering
instant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then it's gone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the sparrow too.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I gather my equipment together and make my way back to the
hotel, happy that I've done well for Mr. Malick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I've kept his magic time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I really hope he uses this stuff in his film about sparrows.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wURBUck3uXEdpZDU8nnKpM0FBuGdj-1KYJLbsfFOkKRvHpflFgCGAK9XK28pHI0uqvy2yX1LkDkhl_bfZnfhPvg7wUbnkwc2hlEs0MsH_UFClPvVfk8Lgj-WFaGfnAl62qV-tdMKB8SY/s1600/magic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wURBUck3uXEdpZDU8nnKpM0FBuGdj-1KYJLbsfFOkKRvHpflFgCGAK9XK28pHI0uqvy2yX1LkDkhl_bfZnfhPvg7wUbnkwc2hlEs0MsH_UFClPvVfk8Lgj-WFaGfnAl62qV-tdMKB8SY/s1600/magic.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-76080936588861557332014-02-27T13:34:00.001-08:002014-02-27T13:58:30.910-08:00The Slots<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Fang and I dripped into the hostel, our flooded footwear
squelching loudly to the amusement of two smug foreigners drinking beer in the
lounge area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shanghai had apparently
been witnessing a heatwave that week but we'd arrived in the middle of a
bombastic rainstorm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We quickly checked
in and went to the room to greet the beds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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There were four beds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bunks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two of which, the lower
ones, were already occupied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of our
temporary roommates, looked South American maybe, was there, lying on one of
the beds with his face flashing in the spasmodic light of whatever film he was
watching on his portable computerised thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He looked like he'd been there all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Get a life, I thought to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The other occupant was absent, just some clothes and a towel marked his
silent presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided to get
moving immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a show to
attend at 10 so we only had time to change our ringing socks.</div>
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The rain had died down upon leaving, which was a blessing,
but we made sure to pick up some umbrellas in a little store beside the hostel
for possible security before leaping into the first taxi we could find.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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It was my first time in Shanghai.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in the rain and smoky darkness, it was
exactly as I'd imagined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shadow people
busying past under a messy mosaic of wet electric lights through the
rain-riddled windows of the taxi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
to nudge Fang in the arm along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He'd been nodding off intermittently since getting off the train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn't surprise me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'd been travelling for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kunming-Chongqing-Chengdu-Xian-Nanjing-Shanghai.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We'd stopped for at least two days in each
city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five in Chengdu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shanghai was our final stop before taking the
long long long journey back to Kunming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Travelling around China can be a challenge of some fortitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trek had become easier in recent years
due to advancing transportation facilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>High-speed trains racing up and down the country were now reducing the burden
of painfully persisting and demanding journeys for sore travellers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even so, China's immense size still meant
that not everywhere was accessible via these comfortably modern means.</div>
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We arrived at the gig and hooked up with some mutual friends
we had in the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a noisy show
with not too many people in attendance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I expected more punters at my first gig in the Pearl of the Orient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The venue was reasonably big, so perhaps even
with 80 people it still looked kind of empty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fang received a second rushing wind of energy during the first band's
performance and went to flirt with a girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I admired him for his audacity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If he saw someone he liked, he would dart across the room and just start
talking to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No short opening glances
followed by more sustained looks of intent for Fang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd just get in their faces immediately, eye
to eye, no soft hints offered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he'd
been an architect, he wouldn't have bothered with all the drawing and
designing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd have just dropped a
billion bricks to the ground from a helicopter and hoped for the best. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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My Chinese listening was at its worst when dealing with voices
sounding from a P.A in large spaces, so I was unable to fully make out the rallying
speech the singer from the headlining band made towards the end of their set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The spitty hiss on the loudspeakers and
harshness of the barked dialect made it difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only words or phrases I picked up on were
'They are bad people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are good
people.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However I completely understood
the crowd's reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the singer
finished speaking, there was an explosive roar from the audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I observed Fang turn away from the girl he
was dealing with in that instant and direct his attention at the stage as the
band released an hysterical few minutes of thunderous punk rock noise that sent
everyone in the room to a mental place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I couldn't speak Chinese so well, but I was quite capable of moshing in
Chinese.</div>
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We met an old Japanese man as we were stumbling back to the
hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got lost on the street and we
asked for directions and it turned out that the old Japanese man was staying at
the same hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He guided us back
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told us he loved the food in
Shanghai and he'd been eating until all the restaurants closed and now it was
time for bed.</div>
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I woke early the next day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I'd been waking up early in all the cities we'd visited even after
parties and late nights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thrill of
travelling always had that effect on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fang continued sleeping and I predicted he would stay there for a
substantial part of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was used
to his routine at this stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went
down to the restaurant and lounge part of the hostel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had a Western breakfast on the menu so I
ordered it with some degree of excitement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I'd become accustomed to various common Chinese breakfast dishes,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>but I couldn't deny homesickness with regards
my own culturally relevant brand of unhealthy food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hungrily went for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fry-up in the morning worked perfectly
after a night of drinking even if it happened to be lacklustre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lacking the dirty unhealthy but digestible fibre
that made it famous in my own neck of the woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's what it was, this one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half a sausage, no beans, bacon that was
mostly fat, a fried egg that looked like the sun setting over a natural
disaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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'Hello,' said a voice behind me.</div>
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'Hello,' I said to the voice.</div>
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It was the old Japanese man from last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was dressed like he'd just been out for a
run, a cerulean blue tracksuit from an 80's comedy film and a headband from an
80's music video.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He'd been out running
in the 1980's.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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'Good food?' he asked.</div>
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'It's not bad,' I said.</div>
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He was very old, but remarkably nimble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we got talking, I became even more
impressed with his vitality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was used
to being in Dublin where the older folk were so devastated by cigarettes and
alcohol that speaking was an effort for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Their voices were slow wheezed sounds, each word a struggle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This elder Japanese man <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>eased his words out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In eloquent English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told me that he came to China every
summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved Shanghai and travelled
alone each year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He mostly just went to
Nanjing, Suzhou, and Shanghai.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everybody
knew him.</div>
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'Hi, Kazuo,' said the hostel owner, strolling past us.</div>
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'Zhen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hello,' the
Japanese man gladly replied.</div>
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His name was Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was from Osaka, a place that had intrigued me for many years, a place
I had always wanted to visit.</div>
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'I hear there's a lot of good rock music in Osaka,' I said.</div>
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'Oh yes,' said Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'Elvis lives there.'</div>
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'Elvis?'</div>
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'He owns a little apartment in the block next to mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see him every day walking his dog.'</div>
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'Wow,' I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'I
thought Elvis was dead.'</div>
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'No, he's alive and kicking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Living in Osaka with his doctor.'</div>
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'His doctor?'</div>
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'Yes, she's Japanese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He married her after she cured his appendix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her name is Yoko.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She's not a nice woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very unfriendly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prefer her husband.'</div>
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We talked for about an hour or two about many things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Japanese films.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Asian films in general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Differences between Ireland and China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ireland and Japan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>China and Japan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Development in modern Chinese cities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Baijiu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whiskey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather.</div>
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In the back of my mind, I had a question I wished to ask
him, but I wasn't sure how to put it exactly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a simple question but for some reason seemed to me too loaded a query
as I considered recent political spats between China and Japan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On surface level, it was a trivial question,
but I viewed it fuelled with segue, follow-up, and growth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was reluctant to ask, but as I ordered a
bottle of beer, I found a way in and asked him, 'So what do you do, Kazuo?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the way, would you like a beer?'</div>
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'No, no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm
fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you.'</div>
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'Ok. So what do you do?'</div>
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He told me he was retired, but that he'd been a civil
servant for many years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told me about
his successes and failures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His work
preserving a Wayo temple that had been singled out for demolition by
government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His minor role aiding the
protests over industrial pollution and eventual poisoning in Minimata.
Following his time as a civil servant, Kazuo went into business for himself as
the owner of a chain of amusement arcades and small casinos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His company had apparently seen much illness
and triumph.</div>
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'I used to be addicted to slot machines,' I told him.</div>
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He smiled and laughed off my addiction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Well, I hope you won't hold anything against
me.'</div>
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'No, I blame myself for that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, it wasn't so bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasted a few hundred, but it wasn't
exactly<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>high-rolling.'</div>
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'I distanced myself from the problems of gamblers many years
ago,' he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'It's not that I didn't
have sympathy for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just the
only way I could do that kind of thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You have to raise a wall around you in business if you want to be
effective, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People and their
individual problems need to be blanked out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It's a little cold, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that's
the way I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm not sure if I can say sorry for it. I was
successful partly because of that attitude.'</div>
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After some more discussion about gambling and further
coverage of his adventures in the twentieth century, Kazuo suddenly fell into a
dark silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The friendly energetic man
was replaced by a more pensive and sombre one.</div>
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'You know, I've been here before,' he said.</div>
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'In this hostel?'</div>
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'No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That' not what I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've been
in China before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was here many years
ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With my compatriots.'</div>
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'Wow,' I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'The
war?'</div>
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He nodded one single sluggish and protracted nod.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'It was maybe 60 years ago?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don't recall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half a human
lifetime ago.'</div>
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I ordered another beer, and this time Kazuo also agreed to
have one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took gulps in unison when
they arrived and he continued recounting his previous experience of China.</div>
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'We didn't ask too many questions back then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all so confident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too confident to require any answers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or to show the desire for them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I think that people should always ask
questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They shouldn't be afraid to
stand up in the crowd and just ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are too many social shackles restraining us.'</div>
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Kazuo took another swig of beer.</div>
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'I could have asked more questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew which questions I wanted to ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn't want to look stupid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone else was in agreement, so my question would have fallen on deaf
ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And laughter probably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't want them to laugh at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking back, I realise that the others maybe
felt the same way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm certain they
did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we all hid it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that just made things worse.'</div>
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'Yeah,' was the only response I could squeeze out.</div>
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Fang suddenly joined us at that moment.</div>
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'Good morning,' I said, as he staggered to the table and
crashed into one of the wooden chairs as though he was a malfunctioning robot
being carefully navigated to safety by its concerned controller.</div>
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'Good morning,' he said, his eyes almost lifeless.</div>
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'This is Kazuo,' I said.</div>
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Kazuo gave Fang a nod and a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fang acknowledged this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Hey.'</div>
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'Do you want a beer?' I asked.</div>
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Fang shook his head and groaned.</div>
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Kazuo and I laughed.</div>
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'I can't remember coming back last night,' said Fang.</div>
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'Kazuo helped us,' I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'We met him and he showed us where the hostel was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we hadn't met him, it's likely we would
still be out there wandering the streets.'</div>
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'Cool,' said Fang, showing his approval.</div>
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The three of us sat for another hour or so talking on softer
topics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>World beers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hostels and hotels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life on the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roads in China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roads in Japan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roads in Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roads in general.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I got up to go the toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a strange kind of eager 'rest'room, decorated in much the same
way as the hostel itself; it was like any other international hostel in the
world, these toilets, sti ckers promoting DJ nights, bands (secondary,
seemingly), youth<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>causes (still don't
know them), photographs of guests in worldflung locations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Post-it-notes saying a variety of things in
all variety of languages.</div>
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Taking a shit felt like a journey through being and time.</div>
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The door started shuffling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was sure the person was trying to get in. I ignored it as I thought
the person would ascertain that it was being used due to the door being locked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the door kept shaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As though the person thought it was jarred or
something.</div>
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'Hold on,' I chose to shout.</div>
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Whomever it was kept fidgeting with the door as I was wiping
you-know-where.</div>
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'I'm sorry,' I heard a sweet female voice say outside as I
disposed of my dishonoured napkin.</div>
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'That's okay,' I said.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I came out of the toilet to be faced with a pretty young
girl who seemed a little embarrassed about her transgression at the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't have it in me at that time to be
kind to her charms and just gave her a 'what the fuck?' look without saying
anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it was the few beers
I'd had that had devoured my good nature, or maybe just the absurdity and aggravation
of the incident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl slid nervously
past me into the toilet and struggled scrappily to get the door locked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I returned to Fang and Kazuo, they were talking about
the fairer sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or Fang seemed to be
imparting his sexual misadventures and unfair dismissals from the night before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'She made me buy her three drinks and then said goodbye
after lecturing me about politics for 30 minutes,' he told Kazuo. ' She had
strong views about the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn't
deal with that last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too drunk and
tired.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'She sounds like she was an interesting girl,' smiled Kazuo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Not me,' replied Fang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'Not me.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Are you married, Kazuo?' I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe impudently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again, the beer...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she
left a few years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went to the
other side.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that,' I said, sympathetically.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes, she moved to the other side of the city with my
biggest business rival at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
think she was too young for me anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I've never had any children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes
I think that is a good thing, and other times, I think, no.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I don't want to get married,' said Fang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Fuck it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Too much pressure.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was so used to my Chinese and Japanese friends elevating
the concept of marriage to peak pedestals that Fang and Kazuo's remarks came as
surprising and refreshing, and also somewhat depressing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I get the pains of convention too sometimes,' I told
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'I mostly don't think about it,
and then occasionally I find myself dwelling on the aging process in relation
to the aging processes of people around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know, that there are kids twenty years younger than me getting
married and having babies.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Well, those same kids are sixty years younger than me,'
joked Kazuo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'd been engaged to a girl for about three years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being engaged for so long put us into a kind
of miasma of incarceration which began to slowly put the lights out on the
whole relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was never meant
to be. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'In China, the
parents like their children to get married at the right age,' said Fang.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'What is the right age?'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'They say 26.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'What if you got married at 28?'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'No, 28 is the right age for having your first baby,' Fang
replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'30 is the right age for
asking your boss for a raise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>32 is the
right age for investing in property.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>34
is the right age to make your first million.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fang was joking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kazuo didn't realise until the laughing started. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'My parents are not as forceful as my friends about marriage
and all of that,' Fang continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'They
would like it if I got married, but they don't say so much about it to me.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'This is similar in Japan,' said Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Everyone wants to feel happy about the
standards they have for family life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It's tradition.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I want to have fun with the girls,' said Fang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'For as long as I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to fuck as many as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I meet one that I'd like to spend more and
more time with, then maybe I'll marry her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don't know.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pretty young girl who had followed me into the toilet
whisked past us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched Fang's head
turn like a gliding movie camera, his eyes seeking the perfect cinematic
representation of the girl's form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
nodded at Kazuo and me, grinning. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
sat down at a table not far from us in front of a large flat-screen TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was with another girl whose back was
turned to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the TV behind the
pretty toilet girl, there was a muted news broadcast of the riots in Guangzhou.
Chinese men were jumping on Japanese cars and smashing the windows of Japanese
sushi restaurants as an answer to recent political disputes about whose
territory was whose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pretty toilet
girl thought I was looking at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
was probably feeling extremely uncomfortable because I noticed that Fang had
not yet pulled his gaze away from her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
had to pray she wasn't camera-shy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I hope China and Japan don't go to war,' I blurted out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fang then redirected his fix from the girl to the TV and
caught what was being shown.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Oh no, no, no, no,' said Kazuo, addressing my comment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'It would be very stupid.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Those people are stupid,' Fang said, pointing to the image
on the TV of a young Chinese man ripping a cherry blossom to pieces with his
teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'I wish they would just shut up
and go home to their beds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Making things
worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nationalists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cocksuckers.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'All wars are stupid,' said Kazuo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I don't think all wars are stupid,' Fang replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Sometimes there are violations which need to
be responded to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And military action is
maybe the only response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, yes, most
wars are stupid.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'What was the stupidest war?' I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Iraq.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'The Cold War.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'World War II.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'The Galactic Civil War.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'My marriage,' said Kazuo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We laughed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Kazuo was dead serious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Too many of my friends have a silly hatred of Japan,' said
Fang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'They always say bad things about
the Japanese, even though they are decked out in Japanese styles every
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people my age.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I can see why people in China would hate Japan though,'
said Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'We Japanese did horrible
things in the recent history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know all
about it.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes, but that was many years ago.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'There are still stupid people in Japan today,' Kazuo
continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'I met a person from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Uyoku Dentai</i>, the nationalists, some
years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was at a dinner party with
an old business colleague.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man
started to argue with me because we'd begun employing a new Chinese company to
build our arcade machines instead of using Japanese technology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I told him that it hadn't been my
decision, that I was retired, and that it had been the decision of a new director
in our company, he ignored me, and baited me into a conversation about the
war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him I'd been involved in the
war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said 'No, you weren't'.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I told him about the things I'd seen and
done, he said 'No, you didn't.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only
time he said 'Yes' was when my old business colleague, who had some right wing
views, asked him if he would like another drink.'<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Piece of shit,' said Fang.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yeah,' I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
chose to, as best I could, leave them to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After all, what could I bring to this discussion?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But another complicated perspective on what
nationalism is and what it has produced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From an islander from an island with multiple chips on either shoulder.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'That girl I was talking to last night was like that too,'
Fang went on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'All I wanted to do was
bring her home and give her a fuck, but she was too easily annoyed when I
mentioned an American rock band I like who are coming to China soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got upset that I was focusing on an
American band and not a Chinese band.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And she started talking about imperialism and things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was too drunk and horny to say anything
intelligent, but she got upset when I said that national pride doesn't mean
simply taking sides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She left quickly
with my fuck.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes, but that's just talking,' said Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'And that is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's good that there is an open debate, that
you can have a talk like that with a girl in a bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no violence in it.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Look at the TV, Kazuo,' said Fang, pointing to the images
that were flashing above the pretty toilet girl's head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to shoot her a smile in that
instant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She raised her eyebrows and went
back to conversation with her companion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes, but that is the violence of a stupid few,' said
Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Not everyone in China would do
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even people with considered nationalistic
views.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no general idea amongst
the larger part of society that all Japanese should die, is there?'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'No,' said Fang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'But
the agitation is there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And people do
use those words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They shout things like
'Kill Japanese dogs!''</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To illustrate this, Fang had raised his voice in order to
emulate the rioters on TV, and the owner of the hostel who was close by heard
him and came over to us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Okay, guys,' he said, in a reserved way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'How is everything, Kazuo?'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Everything is fine, Zhen,' smiled Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Nice talking here with my new friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>International conversation in the
international hotel.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Okay,' said the owner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'If you could just keep it down a little, guys.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Agreed,' said Fang.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Thanks,' I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kazuo took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them to Fang
and I.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Arigato,' said Fang.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bu ke qi,' replied Kazuo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Cheers,' I said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had to go outside, to a little den at the front of the
hostel, as they didn't allow smoking inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was mid-afternoon and the sun was shining again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rains were taking a break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The street looked different to Fang and I as
we'd only experienced it in the dreary fog of a pissy evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a narrow and humble little street that
could have been found buried in the middle of any Chinese city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun was catching only one side, the one
across from us, and climbing up its walls like curtains unfurling to darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A street-vendor across from us was standing
in the entrance of his stall reaching his neck up to catch some of the glare on
his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His wife was behind him
looking at him like he was a madman.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Have you eaten?' I asked Fang.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'I
couldn't eat anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'll get some
snacks for the train.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'What time is your train?'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Five.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I'm leaving tonight also,' said Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Much later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It will be sad to say goodbye to China again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I suppose I will come back again next
year.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'I wish I could visit Japan too,' said Fang.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'That's funny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like
being in China, and you would like to be in Japan.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Why do you want to come here to China?' asked Fang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'I would rather be somewhere else.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Well, travelling is important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gives you an adventurous spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you'll always find something to love in
your hometown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if there are factors
that work against you there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love
Osaka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That's where I grew up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I don't come out of my home so much there
anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prefer to stay inside and
read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't like to be around all the
people of my city anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, when I
come to Shanghai, I love to be with people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I like to walk around, and eat in the restaurants, and talk to
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meet new friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like you two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Very different from when I'm at home.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pretty toilet girl and her friend made their exit at
that moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I had seen of her
friend was the back of her head, a spillage of long black hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A full profile now revealed <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>zombie contacts, a nose-stud, and a feathery
beard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her girlfriend was actually a
young male Chinese metaller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
wearing a Slayer T-shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fang was even
more shocked than I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They eyed us
with momentary contempt and then looked away as though we mattered no more to
them than the air pollution.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Oh, you're a Slayer fan, are you?' Kazuo asked the young
man before they were out of our range .</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The young metaller looked back at him in shock.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes,' he said, weakly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Both Fang and I were also shaken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kazuo was a man who was probably in his
eighties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wouldn't have figured him to
be someone with a knowledge of thrash metal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Have you seen them live?' enquired Kazuo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'No,' said the young metaller.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Oh, you should,' said Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>'Fucking awesome!'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The young metaller smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The pretty toilet girl had a puzzled expression on her face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They continued on their way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kazuo turned to Fang and I.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Slayer is a rock band?' he asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes, I answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'Classic thrash metal!'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Rock music?'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Yes,' said Fang.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'Ah,' said Kazuo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>'Thought so.'</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sun had just about rolled itself over the adjacent
buildings by this stage and the street was a relaxed blue in the shade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kazuo, Fang and I sat and smoked and talked
until ashtray succeeded ashtray and a mountain range sprouted up before
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Faces passing us on the street
looked curiously at the three of us deep in our conversation in the mountains. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I moved to dog-ear the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And moments like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was comforting to find these little slots
in the day, secure pockets in this frothing world of hurried discourse, in
which rational people could calmly discuss all manner of things.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
_____ in Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>_____in China and
Japan. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>_____between China
and Japan and Ireland.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>_____in general.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We each had another long drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Fang and I said goodbye to Kazuo and we
all embarked on our long long long journeys back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-38648042823313352472014-02-13T04:04:00.003-08:002014-02-13T04:04:40.106-08:00Electricity<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-19407970812865355362014-02-12T19:12:00.000-08:002014-02-12T19:12:13.819-08:00The Assassin of Optics Valley<br />
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Shopping Centres. They present a challenge. The escalators stretch
two storeys high, spitting out stair by stair the motorised design of my
pursuit. They are grim, grid-like stairs with a look of lassitude
about them, fatigued by the relentless reel of station. I flick my
exhausted cigarette onto the stair before me. It joins the hundreds of
other butts this escalator will swallow today. To my left, listless
consumers float downwards away from my target. What goes up, must come
down, as has been said. I will be going down soon too. After.<br />
<br />
There is one other climber of these escalators apart from me. A
girl. Young, maybe in her early twenties. But I can't tell for sure.
She stands about eight stairs in front. We slowly move upwards together
at the standard mechanical pace. She is carrying a long umbrella and
wears a bag on her back shaped like the shell of a turtle. Her image
sends a picture of past business to my brain. Shadows of what went
before. Thought-forgotten figures and forms half-turning, half-seeing,
and eventually falling.<br />
<br />
And then the girl falls. I don't see it happen. My eyes have turned
away briefly and in that moment she seems to have slipped on the
stairs. All I see is her body flat down, her turtle shell to the air,
as the stairs continue to ascend slowly. It looks like a bad fall. I
experience a sudden reaction of concern. She struggles messily to
regain her post. As she is doing so, she notices me on the stairs
behind. Her eyes convey the shame of a century. The umbrella is so
long that it gets wedged between the sides of the escalator aisle as she
clambers shaking to her feet. She unwedges it aggressively.<br />
<br />
The girl reaches the next floor in an agitated manner. She stops for
a moment and rubs her right leg having obviously injured herself. I
watch as she fumbles around trying to adjust the turtle shell bag on her
back and then as she hobbles away uneasily, first one way, then
another, then the other way again.<br />
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When I reach the level of my target, I begin to ponder the poor
girl's embarrassment. I feel regret that I let her catch my eyes
following the incident. I should have looked away, feigned an
unawareness of her mishap. That would have made her feel better.
Knowing that I hadn't seen. That her uncomfortable accident had
occurred without witness. Even with my own impassive constitution, a
scene such as that, if it had happened to me and was witnessed by
another, would have pained and scarred me. Public embarrassment is a
dreadful thing, no matter who you are. And in the age of mass media's
love affair with the fleeting sneer, the deliberate decline of empathy
within societies dampens my spirit. After putting two bullets in my
target's brain, I once more take to the escalators, this time going
down, and still thinking about the scene with the girl. I wish I hadn't
witnessed the whole thing. We are all one and the other in this
shopping centre, passing hopefully unnoticed by pity, scorn, mockery,
derision, judgement. A slight misstep may not draw too much
attention, might forgive us shortly afterwards and return us to comfort,
but a chaotic display of human shortcoming such as what happened to
that poor girl always has an audience. A willing wanting unshaken
audience. It makes me sad for this world. <br />
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<br />Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-41605022329062367222014-02-12T09:41:00.001-08:002014-02-12T09:46:42.140-08:00Chinese Psycho Lady 3-D<em><strong></strong></em><br />
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<em><strong>This is the pitch I recently made for my forthcoming film Chinese Psycho Lady 3D. This is the typescript of the original presentation so it includes all comments and questions that were posed during the session and the responses that followed.</strong></em><br />
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Chinese Psycho Lady 3D is both an unforgiving satire of modern dystopia and slasher pic with sex. Although China will form the background of much of the film, there will be no commentary on the modern Chinese situation, on governmental policies, or contemporary social issues. China will simply act as the springboard for a general comment on urban dissatisfaction. Being set in China, of course, specific Chinese elements may colour the scenes in certain ways, but I'm not out to ruffle any feathers with this one. <br />
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<em>Good idea. We're up to our asses in edits and re-shoots these days. Continue.</em><br />
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So here it is. We start in Shanghai. We're in an enormous shopping complex. We see a few major international brand names dancing with numerous bright and artful Chinese characters in a dizzying zigzag of shopfronts and shopping bags. It's all hustle and bustle. No music on the soundtrack at this point. In fact, we just jump right into this hectic scene of consumerism. Emerging quietly from the crowd is our Psycho Lady. We know this from looking at her. I want to make no bones about it. She will look like a psycho. About 40. Eyeballs trying to escape her head. I can really see Lili Taylor filling the role well. I've seen her playing psychos before, and she's good at it.<br />
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<em>But didn't you say she was a Chinese Psycho Lady? Wait, is Lili Taylor Chinese?</em><br />
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No. But this is what I think. It's been a while since we've had a Caucasian in the role of a Chinese in the movies. You know, political correctness pretty much put a lot of actors who could play Chinese out of business. But I'm not going for any racial stereotyping here. I want to turn political correctness on its head in a way. It'll be postmodern. Skewed and distorted. Just like the character actually. I want this psycho to seem almost unreal within an all too real reality for us all. A kind of ureal real in a really realistic unreality, you know what I mean? She's a psycho. And ,like I said, Lili does psycho well. <br />
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<em>Interesting. Continue.</em><br />
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So she'll have this kind of Fu Manchu-as-an-unmarried-Shanghai-pariah look about her. Lili. She has white hair and is constantly decked out in all-white clothing. Kind of like she just broke out of an asylum. I want people to think that. We see her doing some normal things like standing in line at food stalls and at supermarket checkouts, but we never see her buy anything. Just standing in line as life goes on around her. Eventually we move outside and she's getting a taxi. The taxi driver says a few things, but she doesn't say anything for the whole trip. And then after a while, with a classic modern day pop hit playing on the car radio, we stop.<br />
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<em>Could you get to the action? You paid for a 6 minute pitch, if I'm correct, not a goddamn garden party.</em> <br />
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Okay. so the taxi driver stops, and suddenly the doors fly open and Lili is dragged out of the car by two men. The taxi driver has led her into a rape-trap. They drag her out, but she doesn't react in any way. Stone-cold expression in a flash close-up of her face. We see the taxi driver rubbing his hands together and laughing. The three men pull her into a kind of off-road ditch. We don't know what they will do to her. They could sell her body parts for a shared ipad for all we know. <br />
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<em>Can you get Apple to agree to that product placement?</em><br />
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Sorry?<br />
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<em>I'm saying Can-we- get-Apple-on-board-this-project?</em><br />
<br />
eh, maybe. Anyway, there's a build-up of tension and we think we're about to have a horrific rape moment like in that French film. You know, the one with the garden gnomes. But then suddenly WHAM! Lili draws her sword from her underwear. WHAM! Arms off! WHAM! Dicks off! WHAM! Heads off! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Thank you, ma'am! It's the bride with white hair and she's unhappy about her unmarried status. She's suddenly unbridled. That's where it kicks off. The killing spree. She'll kill anyone after that. Pharmacists, traffic wardens, beggars, choosers, botanists, anyone carrying an umbrella. The remainder of the film will be blood and guts and sex. Lots of tits, of course. And we could even have a song at the end. I've written one called 'Sing and Dance, Sociopath'.<br />
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<em>I'm with you on the arms and heads coming off. But the dicks? Could be a problem.</em><br />
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I understand, but think of it this way. 3-D.<br />
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<em>Hmm, yeah, 3-D</em>.<br />
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3-D, man.<br />
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<em>Hmm.</em><br />
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3-motherfucking-D.<br />
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<em>Okay, yeah, 3-D.</em><br />
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3 flying dicks in 3 flying fucking dimensions.<br />
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<em>Yeah, yeah, yeah.</em><br />
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3-D.<br />
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<em>Goddamnit, you got your 100 mil. Now get the fuck out of here</em>.<br />
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Cheers, Steven.<br />
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<strong><em>And that was how I did it. That was how I got to make Chinese Psycho Lady 3-D. Watch the skies, my lovelies...</em></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Many thanks to Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, George Orwell, George Michael, Deng Xiaoping</span></strong>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-16250226720955067612014-02-12T06:36:00.000-08:002014-02-12T06:36:29.230-08:00Peggy Sue Did Indeed Get Married<br />
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'These songs are our children. We eventually have to part with them. We create them, nurture them, then send them out to fend for themselves, to stand alone in the world, mingle with other songs, hopefully find a significant other, and start their own families.'<br />
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Buddy gently placed his favourite Gibson acoustic by the side of the chair as though he was laying down his newborn in the cot to rest. <br />
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He'd finished the song.<br />
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'So when did this happen?' I asked.<br />
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'What?'<br />
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'When did she get married?'<br />
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'Oh,' he said. 'Last week, I think.'<br />
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'And who exactly did she marry?'<br />
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'Well,' laughed Buddy. 'That's the funny thing. You'da thought a gal like Peggy Sue woulda gone for a Louie Louie or a Pretty Boy Floyd or Stagger Lee, wouldn't ya?'<br />
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'For sure,' I said. 'Johnny B. Goode maybe?'<br />
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'Yeah, I thought she'd eventually hit the road with Jack or something, but no.'<br />
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'So,' I said. 'Who did she hook up with then?'<br />
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In a long life-seeing breath he announced, 'A boy named Peggy Sue.'<br />
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'No way,' I gasped.<br />
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'It's true. Love is strange.' <br />
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Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-40813153119576953162014-02-12T04:42:00.000-08:002014-02-12T04:42:59.046-08:00Vivien Leigh and the Stolen Dionysus Mask<br />
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She blasted the set in a voluminous rage. It disturbed all present as she remained in character throughout, the soft Southern accent she'd carefully cultivated roaring now to such a height it left them speechless. Nobody expected this from Vivien, let alone Blanche.<br />
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'Whomever's in unlawful possession of that mask best reveal their cowardly action this instant, I swear by Heaven above.'<br />
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Kazan tried to calm her, but she nearly took his head off.<br />
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An enchanted treasure unlike anything before seen, the mask had roamed thespian history, falling only into the hands of selected performers. To those selected, it revealed the veiled secrets of the human play, the meanings of its comedy, its tragedy, its music.<br />
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'Saints preserve me, if that mask is not returned directly, I will walk from this set in earnest. This streetcar has no desire to further travel this dark road of criminality.'<br />
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Brando and Olivier were spotted outside having a tug-of-war with the damn thing. <br />
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Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-89576339244677242172012-01-01T10:23:00.000-08:002012-01-01T11:19:56.294-08:00The Discount Bruces<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOmXqwNFNRrQxWsYPbZwiBpxXnG4b03Yw8LkK2-mbO83zKTBG3NyKb41tbCHzUKp6MVdXEwRlpRz1-F_E_8sczwg5xqOD0zHHl2Rn_ckfv2IrzoOaCUKG4NyHAgGLi3BT06mhWfWAkvZJ/s1600/Dragon_Lee-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzOmXqwNFNRrQxWsYPbZwiBpxXnG4b03Yw8LkK2-mbO83zKTBG3NyKb41tbCHzUKp6MVdXEwRlpRz1-F_E_8sczwg5xqOD0zHHl2Rn_ckfv2IrzoOaCUKG4NyHAgGLi3BT06mhWfWAkvZJ/s320/Dragon_Lee-2.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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I found myself in a tight spot earlier and could have done with the use of a Bruce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">A Bruce is a useful thing to have around when in danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Five burly men had surrounded me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d already taken my purse and spilled its contents on the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were laughing and looking at me in a rather unrefined manner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pictured the worst of all possible worlds in all possible pictures.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">After sending word of my predicament, I was informed via Instant Thought Messaging that the most useful Bruce was no longer available. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had passed away in the early seventies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was saddened to learn of this, but offered hope in a list of other Bruces that may have been able to help me out.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Bruce Le</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Bruce Li</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Dragon Lee</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Knowing that these discount Bruces were somewhat affordable and experiencing great desperation in the moment, I opted to purchase all three for their uses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">The discount Bruces despatched with my attackers in a less visually pleasing way than the most useful Bruce would have done, and time-wise, they were also not as efficient. However I was satisfied with the work and delighted I’d been freed from this bristly situation.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">I thanked the discount Bruces individually and prayed for the survival of the industry.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-51326791354962484452011-09-05T18:16:00.000-07:002011-09-07T11:34:20.945-07:00Dragon Hit the Roof (Unreported)<span lang="EN-US"></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWkl0NFxy08kJ-QWD-yso65Q3vW4ICC1z41xuX0g66vCpcRRuXpHW55eYyppWotAuZi9ZGCdfMglcfz6kHykC9UODgJPakA4PwkPl_AbEFqlfv6mCQKyIeVcNEznxnsv8IqVE4I7IeXlP/s1600/cui.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294px" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWkl0NFxy08kJ-QWD-yso65Q3vW4ICC1z41xuX0g66vCpcRRuXpHW55eYyppWotAuZi9ZGCdfMglcfz6kHykC9UODgJPakA4PwkPl_AbEFqlfv6mCQKyIeVcNEznxnsv8IqVE4I7IeXlP/s320/cui.bmp" width="320px" /></a></div><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> Cui Jian</span></em> <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><u><span lang="EN-US">Much of the following story draws on fragments of an unreported interview with Zeng Yi conducted by Miguel Raffle. The author wishes to thank Mr. Raffle for allowing segments from the interview to be reproduced for this piece.</span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-US">‘I don’t care if anyone likes or buys my music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just care about what they think of my public face as an artist. I want to be known as someone who represents something.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span lang="EN-US">A prevalent attitude amongst young Chinese alternative musicians today, but it’s one that seems to ring true also with the broader consensus of both traditional and modern Chinese thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The notion of ‘face’ is a well-known feature of Chinese character.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Arthur Smith noted, it indicates a certain theatricality in being, life itself lived as a constant performance marked by an intrinsic awareness of the presence of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘I am different,’ <b>Yi continues.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘In </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US"> these days, everyone is different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s just the way it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But everyone pretends they’re not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to be known for being different.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Zeng Yi is one of the most lauded Chinese musicians of recent years, though lauded only within the country’s boxed communities of alternative rock and electronic music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His story is one common amongst a new generation of young people who have sought to forge a new musical identity in China, one that is diverse in its scope and measure, and touched with musical developments from abroad as well as home fashions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zeng Yi’s current album ‘Million Lists’ employs a number of genres such as twee indie, drone metal, and electropop, and subtly merges these styles with his own rather novel interpretation of traditional Chinese folk and ensemble music. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-US">‘Someone told me a few years ago that one of my old punk bands didn’t sound Chinese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck that, I said. Not all music has to sound from where it comes from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If music comes from one country, it doesn’t mean it has to stay there, it should be shared with everyone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone should take part in it – not just listen to it, play it too.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">GAO KAO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Zeng Yi’s city is </span><place><city><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></city><span lang="EN-US">, </span><state><span lang="EN-US">Hubei</span></state></place><span lang="EN-US"> province, a growing metropolis along the Yangtze sludge. It’s the first and last city for him. It’s a glorious mess. In all his time on Earth, in all filed memory, it is that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An organisational nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If not so young, he’d organise it himself, carefully plan an urban system that would contain and maintain these nine or so million individuals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows he can’t plan the individuals, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is beyond planning and design, even in the wildest dreams of godfolk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is one of the reasons why he loves his city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people are terrifically disorganised in their doings and goings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They do and they go as they please, disorganised or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi sometimes gets a little embarrassed about his city, but don’t we all about our hometowns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loves the glorious mess really.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi is 17 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s about to do the college entrance exam, known as ‘gao kao’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He should be studying, feeding his brain with nuggets of information that can be regurgitated later, but he is not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s listening to his MP3 player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s playing a song by The Clash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a very cheap MP3 player that he has saved up for and bought himself some months previous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s seen his classmates arguing over who has the better MP3 player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has the cheapest MP3 in class, and that doesn’t go unnoticed, but he doesn’t care too much about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi is happy with his MP3 – it plays the music he likes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All he is interested in is the music – Neil Young, The Kinks, Jimi Hendrix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His classmates don’t know anything about Western rock music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All they know of Western music is Westlife and Michael Jackson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What use is an expensive MP3 player if all it plays is Andy Lau and Jay Chou.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Yi owned that MP3 player, he would flush it down the fucking toilet, and say not a single thing more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Where did you buy your MP3?’ asks Zhe, pointing at Yi’s beloved little musical device as it’s entering its daily Zeppelin shuffle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zhe’s father is a famous presenter on </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He interviews people and sometimes sings a song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can see his image on all the </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> buses wearing a smart suit and holding up a child’s milk tea drink as if that’s all he drinks all day and night long.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Does it matter?’ answers Yi.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Yes, of course,’ says Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if it’s poor quality, whatever life it has depends on where you bought it from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where did you buy it?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Just at a little stall.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Zhe shakes his head with disgust, and starts to say a few more things about how bad those MP3 players are and how good his ipod is, but Yi simply smiles the disgust away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silence the bastard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Use the hammer of the gods.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The Gao Kao (senior exam) is the final examination all Chinese students must take upon leaving high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is sometimes referred to as the college entrance test.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>High school students spend most of this time in their lives endlessly memorizing facts and figures and words which they’ll eventually be required to recite or rewrite. This exam will determine who is fit for university study and who is not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally sitting down to take the damn thing, Yi doesn’t feel fit at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walks out of the exam hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He doesn’t feel like doing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows his parents will be upset.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He feels a little bad about that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he has given up with life lived in the set direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His classmates stare confusedly over their papers as he strolls magnificently away from them, casually plugging in his earphones as he passes a struggling Zhe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">He goes directly to his older friend Rong’s apartment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rong has a guitar and has been teaching Yi how to play a Sex Pistols song for over a year now after school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi’s beginning to get the hang of it now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-US">‘Punk was the first thing we all got into,’ <b>says Yi</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Most of us didn’t have anything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, we didn’t grow up with the Beatles like you people in the west.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t have that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beatles songs weren’t playing while we were having breakfast as 4 year olds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The radio wasn’t playing </span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Bowie</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US"> and mom wasn’t singing Elton John when we were growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, yeah, there was a slow build-up of rock music in </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US"> coming out of some of the bigger cities, but it was very very slow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then there was an explosion of punk in the early nineties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we were still trailing behind everyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our punk wasn’t the grunge and indie stuff that was happening in </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">America</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US"> and </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">England</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the bloody violent hardcore and stuff like that from the late seventies and early eighties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there was so much of it for a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There still is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially in </span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In </span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US">, we love it more than anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US"> is the punk capital of </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US">.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><city><place><span lang="EN-US">WUHAN</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> PUNK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi is 22 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is growing, as is his city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> is now an even more glorious mess as it contends with the modern Chinese indulgence for urban expansion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a dualistic fantasy of skyscrapers and shanties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi hears jets scream by in the sky as old ladies scream at their old drunken husbands nearby. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is walking along Guang Ba road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stops at a stall to buy a newspaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old man selling the newspapers asks him why he wants to buy a newspaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old man thinks it peculiar that someone so young would want a rag for reading in this day in age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi tells him he wants to know what exactly is being spun in the world today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old man says, Okay, then asks him about his hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is that? the old man asks him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi has been fashioning his hair stormily high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wants it to look like Lou Reed’s around the time of White Light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi privately knows he won’t be able to achieve that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s my hair, he replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, says the old man.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">It’s July in </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lunchtime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The heat is ferocious, devouring energy and smothering reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the crammed buses that go past, mosaics of damp faces are screaming for escape. Yi has arranged to meet Ming, the band’s bass player, for secret talks – the meeting has, in fact, been called to conduct a private moan for the joint disgruntled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are both unhappy with their band’s current state of affairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The singer and guitarist is Wen, who commandeers the group’s activities with the tyrannical charge of a local official’s son, which indeed he is. Wen irritates them both immensely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He writes good songs, but performs them with enforced arrogance, a Gallagher for </span><place><span lang="EN-US">Asia</span></place><span lang="EN-US">, yet more developing middle class than working class hero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He often berates the other members on-stage like the privileged kids at school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi hated school because of those privileged kids, the ones who became class monitors, and made life hell for everyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuckers. Wen is one of those types.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi has, on more than one occasion, contemplated killing him mid-performance to rescue the band and enjoy the additional applause he’s sure the act would elicit from audiences.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">There are four waitresses at Huang Xi Que, the café bar Yi has arranged to meet Ming at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Huang Xi Que means yellow magpie, considered by many to be a symbol of luck and outside there is a huge picture of one such yellow magpie, though rather distinctively possessing only one leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the owner is asked about the anomaly, he usually says the magpie lost the leg in a duel, and avoids reference to the artist responsible for the painting, or that artist’s abilities as an artist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inside Huang Xi Que, the staff enjoy the Chinese version of siesta, slumped over tables and chairs, ghostly heads of long black hair dripping to the floor like a Japanese horror film.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The manager is also there, spread out across the bar, snoring loudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the waitresses is awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is drowsy and yawning sporadically but she muscles through this fatigue in order to continue her chat on the house PC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The familiar sound effects of QQ, the most popular social networking tool in </span><country-region><place><span lang="EN-US">China</span></place></country-region><span lang="EN-US">, fill the air – BEEPBEEP – KNOCKKNOCK – BEEPBEEP.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I don’t want to play another show with him,’ Ming tells Yi as they set to work on their glasses of free hot water, all they can really afford in a café bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I know,’ says Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I can’t stand the shows anymore also.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we have to at least do this gig on Thursday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the money, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels nice to earn my own money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you not think it’s better to earn your own money instead of taking everything from your parents?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Yeah, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But even if I don’t take the money off them, they’re going to expect back that money they didn’t give me sometime in the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the lifetime loan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A contract we’re made to sign at birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So if I’m going to look after them when they’re older, they’d better be sure to look after me now.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I don’t care about making lots of money, but I’d like to at least get used to making some of my own, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m happy just collecting scraps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even better if I’m making it through the music.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The QQ sounds stop and some music begins playing in the background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The waitress who has been chatting online performs a perfect yawn before her head falls clunking down on the table next to the computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi and Ming smile with satisfaction at one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>They’ve</i> already had their lunchtime naps.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I’m not sure if I want to do the punk and indie stuff anymore,’ says Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘What do you mean?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I don’t know, I’d just like to try doing something different for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s getting shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are too many bands doing the same stuff around here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SMZB are the only ones I still consider true to their word.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(SMZB were one of the first punk bands to emerge in </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US">, in the mid-nineties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They set the bar high for many bands to come in later years, be they punk or not, by acutely embodying the politically aware and oft-reactionary elements of rock n’roll within the notoriously oppressive political milieu that is </span><country-region><place><span lang="EN-US">China</span></place></country-region><span lang="EN-US">.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Well, our music doesn’t owe so much to SMZB,’ Ming says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Maybe years ago, yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But everything’s more opened up now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I hate Wen, but I don’t necessarily hate the music we’ve been making.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re not being dishonest about things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It says a lot about us, and the music we’ve been inspired by.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I’m not so sure it says a lot about us,’ says Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I know what you mean.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘Punk was the easiest music to play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could just bash and thrash away at it even if you hadn’t really learned how to play your instrument and if it didn’t make any sense musically everyone still buzzed on the energy and belligerence of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I think the main reason it appealed and still appeals to the young Chinese is because it’s just the ultimate ‘fuck you’, isn’t it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t get to say ‘fuck you’ enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck the system!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck the government!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You must understand how fantastic that makes a large number of us feel.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘I wasn’t there for Cui Jian* or even for the first wave of punk bands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I was there, but I was too young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it excited me so much that I went back and I listened to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most Chinese my age when I was growing up wouldn’t listen to any music, or watch a film, if it was too old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought that was silly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went back in time and listened to Cui Jian and then all the early punk bands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But just like those artists themselves, it was the foreign bands that really shocked me and made me want to do it myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started listening to stuff like Hendrix and the Beach Boys and then Nirvana and a lot of typical indie from the eighties and nineties, and suddenly I was going down all kinds of different roads, listening to lots of odd experimental stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It got to a point where the music I was listening to was so far removed from everything that was the order of day in China that I even had a difficult time relating to some of the punk rockers.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">*Cui Jian is usually credited as the first Chinese rock star.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His rise to fame in the mid-eighties preceded the Tiananmen massacre in </span></i></b><city><place><b><i><span lang="EN-US">Beijing</span></i></b></place></city><b><i><span lang="EN-US">, and his deeply felt and politically conscious music was not only a powerful beginning for rock music in </span></i></b><country-region><place><b><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></b></place></country-region><b><i><span lang="EN-US">, but a persuasive awakening for many of that generation.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">CLASS WARRIOR</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Listen to that,’ Yi says to Ming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘What?’ </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘The music.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">They both pause and listen carefully to the music playing in the Huang Xi Que café bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The manager has woken from his nap and turned the volume up slightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi notices that there is not just one song playing, but two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One is a quite famous Taiwanese pop song and the other a less well known American R N’B track.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The songs are both playing at the same level, the same volume, and at the same time, but from different speakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sounds absolutely horrible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi and Ming wait for a moment to see if any of the staff members will become aware of the blunder and rise to mend the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But nobody is aware and nobody becomes so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who aren’t still asleep go about their chores as though there is no music playing at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Chinese stereo,’ laughs Ming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">They know that the only way they can get the music fixed is to bring it to the manager’s attention themselves, but they decide just to leave it the way it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi is happy to consent to Huang Xi Que’s own sense of liberty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the music they play is bland pop music of the least interesting kind, the café bar itself is one of Yi’s favourites in </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US">, relaxed and modern, yet lacking the lavish decoration that marks most modern establishments of its breed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">One of the waitresses gets very animated suddenly as three new customers arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In her excitement rushing to the doorway, she knocks her leg against a chair, and welcomes them with a forced and flushed smile that barely manages to mask her pain, before limping across the café and covering her face with her hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The newly arrived customers are about the same age as Yi and Ming, a boy and two girls, in their early or mid-twenties, who stroll proudly into the café carrying a number of famous brands of clothes on their shopping bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi hates the mounting obsession with appearances that is presently widespread, but even he can’t help judging these people on how they look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He quietly sucks in his disdain for their dull but fashionable clothes and hairstyles, and attempts to remind himself that a good class warrior leaves the door open for all people, allowing them to make their entrance peacefully, before any view to eviction is discussed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>As Yi is suppressing his judgments, Ming speaks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I know that guy,’ he says, indicating the boy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yi shoots a studious look over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy is sitting with his back turned, his full attention on the two girls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a moment, Yi can only make out his hairstyle with absolute clarity as it is a hairstyle Yi has seen many times before, on people, in magazines, on cartoon characters, even on a preciously groomed poodle once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the hobbling waitress approaches the table to take their order, the boy turns his head and Yi can make out his profile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘He’s Chen Jun’s son,’ says Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘You know, the guy from television.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Yeah,’ says Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I know him too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chen Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to high school with him.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-US">‘My favourite music is German.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve always loved the bands that came out known as krautrock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love Can and Ash Ra Tempel.’ </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">How did that go down with the punk rock scene in </span></i></b><city><place><b><i><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></i></b></place></city><b><i><span lang="EN-US">?</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘Well, it was a different time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the 2000’s, everything changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were many more young people listening to alternative stuff, even avant-garde, and then using that to work on their own music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In </span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Beijing</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US">, lots of new bands appeared, who were more influenced by post-punk, new wave, and indie than they were by ground-level punk. So it was easier to meet people who were also into bands like Can or Faust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, it was through those German bands that I eventually appreciated a lot of Japanese music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Japanese blew my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They inspired me a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And all they were really doing was taking from western influences and mixing it just like us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they were doing it a long time before us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got into many arguments at the start when I mentioned the Japanese bands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It amazed me how far they had travelled with it, whereas in </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US">, we were still only teething.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I said this to people, a big fight would start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There has always been an anti-Japanese feeling in </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US">, even more since the war, with reason of course, but in recent times, the nationalism has become more intense as we get more visible in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a fucking economic power or whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The party makes it worse because they’re always beating their chests these days, trying to make themselves out to be more nationalistic than they really are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So even if people don’t violently despise the Japanese, they have at least a kind of overstated suspicion of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just liked all that cool music.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">MILITANTS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Hey,’ says Zhe, in English, as he spots Yi and Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why say ‘hello’ in English?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re not foreigners, thinks Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zhe rises from his chair and approaches them excitedly, patting them both on their backs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘It’s great to see you,’ he chimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘It’s been such a long time.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something about this cheerful manner makes Yi feel bad about quietly treating Zhe with hostility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He doesn’t necessarily approve of this kind of excessive goodwill, but he can’t bring himself to disapprove either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this moment, Yi suffers a collapse of identity as the realization of his own inconsistency as a person sounds itself aggressively at his door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BEEPBEEP – KNOCKKNOCK – BEEPBEEP</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘What are you doing these days?’ Zhe asks Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He seems to recognize Ming much better than Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi isn’t sure if Zhe actually remembers him at all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Oh, nothing, really,’ says Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Just playing shows as usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enjoying life and fearing it on the side.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Good, good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re still playing rock music, yes?’ laughs Zhe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Yes,’ says Ming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I thought you would have stopped that a long time ago.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘No, we’re still doing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have a band.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve got a show on Thursday.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Good, good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s the name of your band?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘We’re called Militant Mothers,’ says Ming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘That’s funny,’ laughs Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I have a militant mother.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘So have I,’ says Ming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yi doesn’t say anything even though it is his mother who actually inspired the name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi is these days especially cautious with regards band names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has accepted the power a band’s name can exert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is after all their immediate face, something which should frame their content perfectly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d encountered many good acts before who he just couldn’t take seriously at all because they had terrible names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so easy to think of an adequate name for a band.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why settle for something stupid?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The previous names for Militant Mothers, in its early existence, he’d considered annoyingly recycled and meaningless. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Grassmonkey</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The Understanders</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Monkey’s Fire</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Fuck in the Grass</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Zhe asks Yi and Ming to join him at his table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He feels it only right as there is nobody else in the café but them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ming instantly cries Yes and rises to go to the other table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi gets up slowly in response to this and follows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The girls are called Ikuko and Ling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are discussing their late purchases when Zhe interrupts to introduce Ming and ……?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Yi.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Ah, yes,’ says Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Good, good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry, I forgot your name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I always remember you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think everyone who was there that day will never forget you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And those of you who weren’t there, let me tell you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This….this…..Yi…..stood up and walked out of the gao kao.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Minutes after we started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was crazy.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘The gao kao is crazy,’ says Yi.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi and Ming are not long sitting down before conversation erupts, the issue of their musicianship being almost first on the agenda. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although Zhe and the two girls are quite different from Yi and Ming in many areas (status, style, influences, aspirations), they are yet brisk and intelligent, so the conversation spills out with ever-increasing vigour.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What are your songs? IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Do we know them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Maybe. MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well, you don’t know who we are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Why should that make a difference?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Because only then would you have possibly heard us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Have you made any videos?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, maybe we haven’t heard them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is quiet and then:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ikuko?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Are you Japanese?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of course NOT!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO, angrily.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>NO!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Your name sounds like a Japanese name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well, it’s not! I’m Chinese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hate </span><country-region><place><span lang="EN-US">Japan</span></place></country-region><span lang="EN-US">!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ok, sorry, I just thought for a second….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’d kill myself if I was Japanese, the shame…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Forgive me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s in a name anyway?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fucking Japanese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I like Japanese movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t watch them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s funny how we hate Japanese, but their style is everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What do you mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Movies, fashion, hairstyles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very Japanese these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Bullshit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, I don’t agree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, I wouldn’t say that either. Not too much anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even Chinese comics about Chinese culture look like Japanese comics these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Just in design, the style of the drawings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There’s nothing wrong with that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of course not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>People should just consider these things before arguing for nationalism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Just because Japanese are good at some things doesn’t excuse what they did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That’s true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, I know, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Because you know what they did?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, of course, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi wonders then if this argument is winnable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has won it before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he isn’t sure if he can succeed this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ikuko is so pretty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looks like Zhang Ziyi when she played that Japanese geisha girl.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
<i><span lang="EN-US">‘There are many of us who stand up for individuality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For freedom of speech and thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll protest this, contest that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the problem is that the great many of us that are out there remain a minority in a country with a population of this scale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we’re usually either silenced in the media or painted as enemies of the people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being an enemy of the party is not being an enemy of the people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But tell that to the majority of Chinese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone has been conditioned to think that’s the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only ones who seem to really get it are the country people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I think they only get it because they still have to live with many of the old hardships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poverty and the strain of physical labour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They can see through the government’s ploys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one thing that really annoys me is that all of us who dispute the communist party actually love our country a great deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are Chinese just like the party and its members.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are Chinese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We love our country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is why we find cause to criticize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our nationality is such a huge part of our lives that we must consider it at all times.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">HERE COMES THE CITY</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">A small old woman enters Huang Xi Que, looking stooped and worn, and carrying a tray of edibles that Zhe, Ling, and Ikuko ordered just before arriving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She appears frail at the outset, but the spring in her step surfaces when she spots her customers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She dashes to their table with the agility and instinct of someone half her age. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Food?’ Zhe asks Yi and Ming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Thanks,’ says Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Good, good.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Is there enough?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Of course.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Thank you.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘More chopsticks,’ Zhe yaps at the old lady.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘What?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Chopsticks.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Oh? Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Two more.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The old woman leaves to get the chopsticks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘She couldn’t understand me,’ says Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘There are too many people from the countryside in </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to say everything twice and very loudly because they don’t understand the dialect.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Not just that, they’re too simple also,’ laughs Ling.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Yeah, they’re not made for the city,’ adds Zhe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The old woman reminds Yi of his grandmother, an aged thing of deceptive aptitude, mightier than one would first be led to believe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi’s grandmother lives in northern </span><state><place><span lang="EN-US">Jiangsu</span></place></state><span lang="EN-US"> province on a sizable plot of land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her land is no longer the farming bounty it once was as a result of gradual construction and development in the area which has reduced much of its agricultural promise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Urban landscapes appear to be spreading faster, getting closer and closer to her largely uninhabited region.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘We’ll be in the city soon enough,’ she often says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘And no bus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The city’s coming to us.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet even with the encroaching urbanization, she continues willingly with the severe toil of her existence, planting and picking and shovelling and scraping and hoisting and hauling, while her husband sits in silence, capable only of watching, weakened as he is with age and arthritis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some would say it’s a simple existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But having lived it himself, Yi sees it as anything but.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He considers his grandmother a superhero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Better than a superhero because she’s real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi goes to see his grandparents every New Year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each year he observes that something new has been added to their home, be it for comfort or safety, flourishes donated by his mostly absent father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was money enough long ago to move them to a more comfortable living arrangement in </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Nanjing</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US">, but they refused to budge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘What would we know about life in the city?’ says grandmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Going there at this time in life would only make things more complicated than they already are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re fine right here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, the cities are coming to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to stay to show them how things work around here.’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The last time Yi visited them, he couldn’t pinpoint the area where they lived as the surrounding hills he’d always had for geographical guidance had become even more obscured by the new contours of recently upped structures. As he left on the bus, he looked back to see his waving grandparents fade gradually in the fog of hot steam and fume. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
<i><span lang="EN-US">‘I have friends who share many of my opinions, but they tend to stay away from certain topics when they’re talking to foreigners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things like corruption, they’ll usually try to stay away from, I think, only because they’re a little embarrassed about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s common for all of us here in </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US"> to consider corruption a natural part of the social order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s true that everyone encounters it at some level in their lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be very small corruption, or very big corruption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously nobody really cares much about small corruption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the big corruption everyone troubles over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because with so few people with so much money fucking people over and so many more people with so little money getting fucked over, there has to be restlessness somewhere.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Are you saying that small corruption is tolerated, but big corruption isn’t?</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘Yeah, I’d say so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, what you would consider small corruption in western countries, most Chinese wouldn’t consider corruption at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like backhanders in business, or minor bribery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US">, these things are just an accepted part of society. Pretty normal everyday transactions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when an official screws a whole community out of millions, or pursues a greedy life to the injury of others, that’s big corruption, and usually that isn’t tolerated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But with the party being so dominant in society with its new call of get rich, get rich, get rich, more and more of these officials choose corruption and many of the fuckers get away with it, regardless of the intolerant mood.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">FAMOUS </span><country-region><place><span lang="EN-US">CHINA</span></place></country-region><span lang="EN-US"> STAR</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi had been wondering how exactly Ming knew Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it comes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘How is your father?’ asks Ming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘He’s fine,’ says Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘It’s a pity he doesn’t do those music competitions anymore. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Militant Mothers could use something like that for exposure.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘What?’ cries Yi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘That’s not the kind of exposure we want.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Why not?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yi acknowledges that his comment may have appeared rude and disrespectful of Zhe’s father, Chen Jun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He decides to re-imagine his statement with more sensitivity even though he really doesn’t have any respect for Chen Jun at all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I mean, his show is more for pop singers, and pop groups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We just wouldn’t fit in.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I don’t know,’ says Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I think we should try everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody knows who we are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve played six shows in two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All here in </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US">.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Well, you know who we can blame for that.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘We can’t blame Wen on everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, he’s an asshole, but we should blame ourselves too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We haven’t done anything about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t care about doing one of those competitions on television because at least we’d be taking larger steps.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Chen Jun presents an enormously successful chat and entertainment show on </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> television.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is a celebrated media star in </span><state><place><span lang="EN-US">Hubei</span></place></state><span lang="EN-US"> province.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His show at one time included a pop music item which sought to find a new ‘Famous China Star’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ming entered the competition some years before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back then, he was a singer-songwriter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Main influences:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simon and Garfunkel, Bob Dylan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He failed to progress to any significant stage in the competition, but it was during the making of the show that he met Zhe, who was also competing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back then, Zhe was a singer too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Main influences:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy Lau, Wang Leehom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zhe did manage to progress to the later stages of the competition and eventually won the entire thing with a slick and stirring version of Andy Lau’s ‘Chinese People’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The judges found Zhe to be a worthy new ‘Famous China Star’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was little controversy at the time about the fact that Zhe’s father was the presenter, producer, and overall controller of the show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone just applauded the outcome, and there were even tears in some eyes as father and son embraced and celebrated their mutual success together live on-air.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Chen Jun ran into a spot of bother some years ago when a controversy did arise surrounding his relationship with senior officials in the province.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A story was leaked to various media that the renowned television presenter had taken advantage of his advertising contract with a brand of children’s tea in order to bribe a lawmaker in exchange for his aid in securing some property in Yichang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Questions were asked when the official’s neighbours began to notice the abundance of little milk tea drinks for children he appeared to have in his possession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was first noticed when the people in the apartment directly below found milk leaking from their ceiling one afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they went to his apartment to fix the situation, they were shocked to see apparently thousands of the little cartons shelved and stacked in every available space of his abode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did he have so many, of what use were they to him, and how did he come to have them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I enjoy them,’ was the lawmaker’s only defense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The case went away soon, however, as evidence for corruption appeared too vague, and difficult to prove genuine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Are you ok?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ah?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">He looked to be in a kind of trance, nodding his head as though to an imaginary beat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span> Are you ok? You seem tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, yes, I’m good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just started hearing a song in my head. YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Anything good?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, actually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exactly the kind of music WE should be playing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Good, good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What is it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Anything we know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No, it’s just music in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But what is it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Can you sing it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Oh no!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Why not?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s not the kind of music you can sing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What kind of music is it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, describe it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well, it sounds like….YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Buildings spilling onto motorways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And gnawing on huge metallic limbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Coughing giant granite chunks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Huh?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And pounding hard steel innards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cool!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Since you began to expand your musical scope, how have audiences in </span></i></b><country-region><place><b><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></b></place></country-region><b><i><span lang="EN-US"> reacted to the eclectic nature of the material?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, for example, the rather abstract drone metal you’ve blended with traditional music.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘My audiences like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But usually the audiences I get are people you can approach with this kind of stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wouldn’t be standing there listening if they weren’t capable of trying out something different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure not all of them like what they hear, but they can at least play the part of a polite audience, which is all you really want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in </span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US">, they’re great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The </span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US"> audience is my favourite because they go crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially in the overwhelming heat of the summer months when </span></i><city><place><i><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></i></place></city><i><span lang="EN-US"> burns under the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The people go a little crazy, I think, in that extreme high temperature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They jump all over the place, hitting the roof, punching the air, almost like they’re fighting off the heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rock music, punk or metal or whatever, inspires them to fight back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s so much fun to watch, and to be a part of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been a part of it myself many times, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I played a show at the Vox bar in Wuhan last year during Spring Festival (Chinese New Year) and a few in the crowd brought dragon costumes and did a dragon dance while I performed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did it in the traditional way, but the music made them go even further, thrashing around ferociously with the crazy spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like a hotpot in the place, our own established customs squaring up to a new world of wild energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t for purists, but it was amazing, I can tell you.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Is there a strong metal following in </span></i></b><country-region><place><b><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></b></place></country-region><b><i><span lang="EN-US">?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘Yeah, there’s lots of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Militant Mothers ended, Jiang Ming and I started the band toiletissue, which was a big contrast from the music we’d been doing in Mothers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We concentrated on loud sludge metal instead of continuing down the indie rock road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doing that music really freed me in a way, so there’s certainly a lot of metal in the music I do now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Metal is the beast in </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US">’s sewers, born from all the industrial piss and shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wuhan is an industrial city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its true soundtrack today is a heavy noise rumbling deep in your stomach.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">BUSINESS T.I.E</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi wonders if Ikuko is attached to Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He studies their movements and reactions, hoping for a clue into their situation, and hoping also that if Zhe is in a relationship with one of these girls, it is Ling who receives his affection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although Yi diverts himself with these thoughts, he suffers also in the concession that even if Ikuko is unattached, she’d most likely cringe at the concept of having anything to do with him in a romantic way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He can’t help but view them both as being from very different corners of modern society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pairing would only result in a tugging back and forth of various ideologies that would ultimately lead to at least one broken heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she is so pretty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He can’t help himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He now sees all the bland mass-produced symbols of romantic love flickering and hovering around her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roses, cupids, hearts, and kisses – they hang about her in the moment of his fancy but turn out to be mere mosquitoes on the hunt when he snaps out of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he pictures them together, in all its unlikelihood, he begins to see himself as even more of a stranger amongst his own people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How would his wife deal with his fondness for books about witchcraft in </span><place><span lang="EN-US">Europe</span></place><span lang="EN-US"> and his love of old Hammer horror movies from the </span><country-region><place><span lang="EN-US">UK</span></place></country-region><span lang="EN-US">?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could she appreciate the tattooed skull and bones on his back? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could she swap some nights out with her girlfriends in the conservative pop nightclubs and karaoke clubs of </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> for a few nights at punk gigs where the one toilet is never cleaned and the singer of the band spits at you constantly and you’re supposed to love it?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I can’t imagine what kind of music you play,’ laughs Ikuko.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘You’re both too weird.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i>‘I’m</i> not weird,’ says Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘But <i>he’s</i> weird, yes, you’re right.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Why didn’t <i>you</i> keep singing?’ Ling asks Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘You could have been REALLY famous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were so good.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘I still sing from time to time,’ Zhe replies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘At parties and things like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I had to grow up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had other things I needed to accomplish.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘What other things?’ asks Yi.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Business,’ answers Zhe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ling and Ikuko nod approvingly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Ah, business,’ says Ming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘What kind of business do you do now?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">‘Mostly trade’ says Zhe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Import and export.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father has helped me a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s a great businessman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows many important people.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Ling and Ikuko nod approvingly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi realizes that people these days always say the same thing when you ask them what they do for a living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Business, Trade, Import and Export.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s as though they’ve been educated in such a way as to answer only ‘Business, trade, import and export’ to nearly every question they are asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He imagines that the education part of it consists of students simply mouthing ‘Business, trade, import and export’ constantly until it is mouthed well enough to effectively create the appropriate status picture. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hundreds of students in a huge courtyard shouting ‘Business, trade, import and export’ while carrying out generic martial arts exercises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s what Yi imagines it’s like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s how he remembers school anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘<b>Could you ever see yourself not doing what you do, and taking on a normal job?</b></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">A normal job? I think that what I do is a normal job. I’m not going to say it’s as hard as what most of my countrymen are doing for a living. That would be a fucking stupid thing to say. The only difference is I am lucky enough to be doing something I enjoy. Not just that, to be doing something also that I believe firmly can help do some good. I wish more people were as lucky as me, to be honest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, having a job and living the ‘normal’ life swallows up a lot of your energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s too much energy wasted on status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone’s worried about their status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The status quo is the status show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The symbols of power and wealth are all the same in </span></i><country-region><place><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></place></country-region><i><span lang="EN-US"> these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all dressing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clothes being worn are big black cars, expensive liquors, and fucking iphones.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">And you don’t wear these clothes, I take it?</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘Well, no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m naked compared to most people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have status, I suppose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all have status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s not a status I have to dress up for.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">What about the clothes you’re wearing now? [Yi is wearing a fashionable but rumpled T-shirt, frayed blue jeans, and a pair of muddied Converse.]<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are these not the costumes of the average rocker?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do they not befit your status?</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">‘They say something about who I am, yes, but they don’t say more than they should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My clothes don’t speak more than their most basic fashion statement. They’re not branded with the price tag that’s going to help me achieve a social and spiritual perfection.’</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><b><i><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></b><i><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">MOUNTAIN MAN</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">After they’ve finished eating, Zhe orders coffees for everyone, overriding Yi’s weak announcement of ‘I have to leave soon.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apart from in foreign-owned cafés, and in foreigner-targeted establishments, most Chinese continue to drink more tea than they do coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The coffee culture itself in </span><country-region><place><span lang="EN-US">China</span></place></country-region><span lang="EN-US"> is a good marker of the change occurring within the new generation who are more willing to adopt foreign habits than their parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go to any of the Starbuck’s that have sprung up throughout China’s cities and you’ll find many young people sitting with their laptops, basking quite comfortably in the new chic of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t sell much coffee at Huang Xi Que however even though there is a sign saying ‘café’ outside that is almost as large as the one-legged magpie next to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’d be forgiven for thinking of Huang Xi Que as fundamentally a teahouse despite its foreign-y garb like framed photos of has-been pop stars and premier league footballers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi hears an acoustic guitar playing. He reflects on the first guitar he owned, a cheap acoustic that his older friend Rong had given to him in return for going into the supermarket and stealing a packet of frozen dumplings for him every day for a month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rong didn’t have much money, so he was happy to accept dinners for a month as barter for the instrument.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dumplings Yi stole were Rong’s favourite kind on top, the expensive pork ones he’d rarely been able to afford.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This brief tenure as criminal lingers for Yi as one of the most frightening periods of his life – each day, he bore the dread of being discovered at the doorway, the dumplings slipping from his jacket in full view of the security guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rong is now himself a security guard in a </span><place><placename><span lang="EN-US">New World</span></placename><span lang="EN-US"> </span><placetype><span lang="EN-US">Plaza</span></placetype></place><span lang="EN-US"> shopping centre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wears a policeman’s uniform and whistles songs by the Dead Kennedy’s to himself until it’s time to clock off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span lang="EN-US">Yi would later save enough money, from odd jobs and occasional donations from his shadow of a father, to purchase the black Gibson SG he currently owns, which he calls Yu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yu is a living guitar that bleeds if Yi plays it too hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is why it’s always covered in band-aids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People regularly ask why that is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘She’s scarred from her wild living, but she soldiers onwards,’ he tells people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Jimi Hendrix’s guitar often had a cardiac arrest during shows, so it’s no big deal.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Playing the guitar now is a young man who arrived in a quiet minute, without Yi or the others paying heed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s sitting at a table with some friends at the back of the café.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They look for all intent and purposes like mountain men who’ve come down from the hills for the day to play songs on acoustic guitars in cafés (teahouses).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man plays very well, and immediately gets Yi’s ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, he plays what sounds like the typical folk music you hear in typical teahouses, then he moves to Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Never Going Back Again’, which he performs with some skill, and then finally adapts Cui Jian’s famous ‘Nothing to my Name’, and sings:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-family: SimSun; mso-ascii-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">我要给你我的追求</span><span lang="EN-US">I want to give you my dreams,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-family: SimSun; mso-ascii-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">还有我的自由</span><span lang="EN-US">And give you my freedom,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-family: SimSun; mso-ascii-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">可你却总是笑我</span><span lang="EN-US">But you always just laugh at me</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-family: SimSun; mso-ascii-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">一无所有</span><span lang="EN-US">With nothing to my name</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-family: SimSun; mso-ascii-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">噢</span><span lang="ZH-CN"> </span><span lang="ZH-CN" style="font-family: SimSun; mso-ascii-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">你何时跟我走</span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IE;">Oh-oh-o-o-oh, </span><span lang="EN-US">when will you go with me?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Yi knows the lyrics, and the man’s sincere performance touches something inside him, perhaps the heart of his own particular strain of patriotism, in much the same way it probably touched all those people across the country, be they student or worker, in the late eighties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listening to the song being performed by the mountain man at that specific moment in time, a song that reels back to another specific moment in time, makes him board a train of thought that is filled with the great joys and struggles of his life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeL_CZFl7t8">View Cui Jian's 'Nothing to My Name'</a><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Great song!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, brilliant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What is it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Don’t you know this song?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sounds familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cui Jian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Isn’t he really old?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Very famous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Too old for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is a classic song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s a really important song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Why important?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Well, there is a political angle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I hate old songs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Political?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, Cui Jian was very critical of the government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It doesn’t sound political.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IKUKO</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There are double meanings in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That guy’s a good guitar player.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZHE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, he’s doing a good version of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YI</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He looks like a thief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yeah, he’s really good, I like his playing too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>MING</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Yi rises and says farewell, leaving Ming to continue having coffee and talking with the others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he leaves, he thinks for a moment he’s detected some disappointment in Ikuko’s face, maybe her unwillingness to be parted from him, but quickly puts this weak detection down to his faintness for firm relations, as constant as the </span><city><place><span lang="EN-US">Wuhan</span></place></city><span lang="EN-US"> heat in July.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zhe rises also and offers a traditional kung-fu salute, a slight bow, with his right fist shielded by his left palm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gesture creates a feeling of warmth in Yi towards Zhe that he never thought he could ever feel around the guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friendship and brother-and-sisterhood and all that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span lang="EN-US">On leaving Huang Xi Que and the comfort of its air conditioning, he is almost persuaded to duck for cover as that fucking July sun mounts another attack.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Let me ask you, what do you see in the future?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, not just for yourself, but for Chinese music, and </span></i></b><country-region><place><b><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></b></place></country-region><b><i><span lang="EN-US"> as a whole? Sorry if that’s too loaded a question. I’ll reword it….</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<i><span lang="EN-US">More money, lots of it there, but less of it to feel, to touch, to hold.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Okay.</span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">As our interview ends, and I wave good-bye to Zeng Yi, I walk away with a peculiarly conflicted feeling, at once annoyed by the confusion his opinions have left me with, at once fascinated by the growing valiance of modern China he so dynamically epitomizes. The following is a question I’m often asked by other foreign commentators on this matter: </span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">‘Is it really possible for these young musicians to successfully realize their unorthodox ambitions within such a complex and constraining system as </span></i></b><country-region><place><b><i><span lang="EN-US">China</span></i></b></place></country-region><b><i><span lang="EN-US">’s?’ </span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Not being an expert on the subject myself, I could point those concerned towards any number of expertly-helmed social, historical, and political studies of the country and its current predicament of great change in the hope they could formulate an answer for themselves, or bring them at least closer to an understanding of just what it is that makes China tick right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That MIGHT do it. It JUST might.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my own view, the answer to this question does not require that kind of radically extensive scrutiny, however I do believe it’s a question which cannot be answered in the directness one from the west has come to expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would advise the concerned individual to seek out recordings by Chinese artists, or better still, get out there, see the bands perform, witness for yourself the striking defiance, the loud guitars, the changing mood. The question may yet have been answered. </span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*</span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yi is walking along the tree-lined borders of the </span><place><placename><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">East</span></placename><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span><placetype><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Lake</span></placetype></place><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> watching people as they swim and paddle in the water, desperately seeking escape from the ruthless sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The heat has made them crazy enough to dip themselves in the dodgy parts, next to sewer lines, and construction sites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People are pixilated in the gleam, their figures hazy, almost unreal. </span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Worms lie baked beneath him as he walks, scorched black mid-squirm by the violent heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He finds himself accidentally stepping on one or two, and they crunch to pieces under his feet, observes one still wriggling with life as it struggles against the glare of the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He senses the heat suddenly intensifying, almost as though the sun is fortifying its assault on this stubborn little worm, frustrated and angry with the nuisance of it.</span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yi watches as the worm fights against the roast, eventually shaking off its crispiness, and breaking out of the sun’s death-grasp.</span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Its size increases suddenly and rapidly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puffing up and bulging out, extending and thinning again, the worm changes form, soon becoming a huge, elegant dragon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost immediately it takes flight, pausing for a moment in mid-air to get used to its new mass, then unfolding itself to more formidable shape and shooting upwards with great speed.</span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yi watches as it joins a gathering throng of dragons in the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They rise up together in pattern like a great scaly clawed hand reaching into the heavens.</span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The dragons are getting out of the city for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s much too hot down there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Th</span>ey have a bone to pick with the sun, its searing dominion having charred and scarred them for way too long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yi watches as they throw all the flames they can muster in its direction, hoping it will back down somewhat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Most everyone below flees for home as the skies above erupt to the screeches and howls of battle.</span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Hundreds of dragons, thousands, continue to assemble and beat hard against the great beating heart of the firmament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
</div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yi is impressed and gladdened finally when, facing the fire of revolt, the sun retreats into its evening cave, beaten at least for now in this people’s fantasy.</span></div><div style="background: white; line-height: 150%;"><br />
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</div>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-8331016927270437612011-08-28T06:27:00.000-07:002011-08-28T11:59:18.084-07:00That Bit In Mad Max<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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<br />
It was known prior to the shoot that the props, comprising of phasers and plasma boomerangs, had not been effectively tested in the real world, and could in fact be dangerous in the hands of non-professionals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such weapons had been imitated before, but none had been quite as sophisticated as those now being used in the new Spice Girls video.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">‘These weapons have never been used before,’ Ginger told a documentary crew who were following the video shoot closely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘We’re hoping for the nobel prize with this one.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Disaster struck on the first take.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">Mel B, untrained in the use of plasma weaponry, flung the hi-tech boomerang with the ferocity one expected of her general presentation, but with the precision unfortunately of a total amateur.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">The plasma boomerang sliced through the crest of <state><place>Victoria</place></state>’s skull, cleaving her head open to reveal a pristinely turned-out brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">‘Wow, did you see that?’ cried Sporty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘It was just like that bit in, y’know, ‘Mad Max’.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k88vEZpEi3E">Spice Girls - Say You'll Be There</a></div>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-38933151927640248622011-08-28T05:37:00.000-07:002011-08-28T06:05:43.547-07:00A Wolfhound at the Starting Post<em>Cuchullain's Castle 1</em><br />
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<br />
Brian Staunton had a willowy wolfhound that he brought into Murphy’s each day wearing a cloudy Dundalk F.C jersey. How he managed to stretch the shirt over the magnificent body of the wolfhound was anybody’s guess, and how he managed to survive a mauling while doing so prompted additional guesswork. I saw Taafe trying to avoid Staunton’s typical look of contempt as he sat at the bar scratching his head over the cryptic crossword. <br />
<br />
Here’s the pub: A dry warm mahogany cave advertising the delights of prolonged ‘moments’, warped everydayness, and a place to grumble quietly or not so much, depending on your finances. We the grumblers sit single-file along the bar, shooting back and forth declarations and conclusions and statements and judgments and positions and suspicions. There is always one of the men there cursing at the television while his wife is breathing her last in the hospital.<br />
<br />
‘Watch he doesn’t slobber over the floor again,’ said Taafe, without looking either at Staunton or the wolfhound. ‘I near slipped and broke my hole last time.’<br />
<br />
‘You mind your own slobbering, eh?’<br />
<br />
Taafe turned away from the cryptic crossword – it was angst he could postpone. McDaid noticed this and laughed in Taafe’s direction, a noise like an alien’s claw scratching at him.<br />
<br />
‘You’ll never get there. You’ll never beat the master.’<br />
<br />
I jumped in to change the topic immediately, going back to something McDaid had been trying to tell me earlier about a riot in the town in the eighties. With cryptic crossword failure being the newly-introduced theme, I didn’t want to be reminded of my own performance issues.<br />
<br />
‘I never heard tell of it before,’ I interrupted. ‘When exactly did it happen?’<br />
<br />
‘Well, I remember it proper,’ he said. ‘1986, I think. Paisley came to town. Peter Robinson was up in the court house for some antics out in Monaghan. The whole town went bonkers-mad. And most of it happened right outside here. I swear, this place was like Hamburger Hill. Bricks and sticks flying. The guards running around, didn’t know what the fuck was happening.’<br />
<br />
‘A riot?’<br />
<br />
‘A right old riot! Most of the town was closed. Everyone wanted in on the protest. It was a special day in town, you know. Like the Maytime festival or the American president visiting. We had to work that day though, I remember. But we clocked off early enough in time for the action, and came straight down here to join the petrol bombing. Still, I’m glad the Paisley one’s lightened up now in his old age. Imagine an alternate universe with that fucker the way he was back in the day in charge of the lot. He’d have declared nuclear holocaust on us all.’<br />
<br />
‘These days, he’s on the Late Late Show sucking up to Pat Kenny. Fucking twisted world, eh? Anyway, I’ll be leaving you folks.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh, you’re off. And I was just about to relate to you more tales of violent disapproval on the borderlands.’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah, I’ve to go to McManus’s to meet the wife. She’s there with a few friends.’<br />
<br />
‘Jesus, the rest of us are going home to see the wives quietly and have our dinners quietly and yous two are raving it up. Life’s fucking grand for you lot, isn’t it?’<br />
<br />
Peach sky up. 6.30. I walked along Chapel Street towards McManus’s considering the length of my legs. Way too short, my legs. Compared to most sets of legs. In front of me as I walked, a man, must have been sixty, carrying a Superquinn bag full of briquettes, and I couldn’t help but notice how long his legs were. As long as the metre stick, like some kind of geriatric ostrich coming home from the shops. If he caught me looking at his legs, he could only have been flattered, such a deserted street as it was. I said hello to him.<br />
<br />
‘Hello.’<br />
<br />
‘Well hello there.’<br />
<br />
‘Nice evening.’<br />
<br />
‘Ah, it’s grand, you know.’<br />
<br />
I was glad to be meeting Emer in McManus’s. It would be good to get out of the house for a change. We hadn’t been out in a few weeks. Staying in that house for too long with only each other for company was a fucking head-wrecker. I couldn’t stand it. We’d be killing each other over everything and nothing and all the rest of it. And arguments never worked in my favour. She was always running away with the last word, and I was always running after her and that last word, chasing the argument like an aimless mongrel on the sniff. We’d take a tour of the house with those disputes; sometimes we’d even see a dirty spot somewhere and start cleaning it together while still going at the fight. Last time, she used our clean-up diversion in the bathroom to clout me on the face with a soggy mop. Even intellectual disagreements, not so fierce, demanded much running around. For example, that very morning, the discussion of child-rearing in the kitchen:<br />
<br />
‘I don’t want to raise my child under church guidance. It’s all bullshit.’ (She leaves the kitchen)<br />
<br />
‘Well, what else will we do? (I follow her saying) Imagine this baby of ours suddenly appears tomorrow.’<br />
<br />
‘What, like a virgin birth?’(She walks upstairs)<br />
<br />
‘Just grant me this little piece of hypothetical, will you.’ (I follow saying) Imagine she’s born tomorrow.’<br />
<br />
‘She?’<br />
<br />
‘He, she, whatever. Picture us waking up tomorrow and there’s a little baby. What are you going to do?’<br />
<br />
‘Raise him. (She grabs a cloth from the ironing board on the landing and begins wiping a nearby windowsill saying) Be a mother.’<br />
<br />
‘But have you ever thought about how you’ll raise your child?’<br />
<br />
‘He’ll be raised a good atheist.’<br />
<br />
‘He?’<br />
<br />
‘She, he, whatever.’<br />
<br />
(I start re-folding some clothes that are lying on the ironing board saying) ‘We can’t do that. How do you begin to give a child a strong moral framework? You can’t just make it up as you go along. I don’t think it’s as simple as showing them ‘this is good’ and ‘this is bad’. You’ve got to back it all up with some solid foundations, with stories and the like.’<br />
<br />
‘You’re talking shit. (She walks downstairs again saying) People do it all the time. They don’t need the bloody sacred heart.’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah, but…(I follow her downstairs saying) There’s a wider education involved, isn’t there?’<br />
<br />
‘You’re getting worried in your old age. (She stops in the hall to adjust a framed photograph of Pont du Gard on the wall saying) Afraid of damnation, eh?’<br />
<br />
‘No way. (I follow and stand beside her saying) But damned in our doings anyway. (I begin to adjust a framed photograph of Sagrada Familia next to Pont du Gard on the wall saying) My life is streaming screaming damnation, I’d say, and there’s only so much of it you can take in a living minute.’<br />
<br />
‘A living minute? You should accept your damnation will be much longer than that.’ (She disappears into the kitchen)<br />
<br />
‘Thank God we’re not pregnant then, eh?’<br />
<br />
Outside McManus’s, there was a blue car with three young lads buttressing themselves against it, eyeing passers-by purposelessly, posing with their fags and cans. I could have read the pointlessness of their intentions from a mile off, so I anticipated their words of passive intimidation, and went into a stance known as Crane Wildly Pecking The Wind as soon as I was within distance. They just shrugged, and told me to Fuck off. Another success for the martial arts.<br />
<br />
Inside McManus’s, it was dopesmoker’s night, with dub and roots reggae rumbling over the chattering heads. I walked around looking for Emer, amazed at how the place just never seemed to change in all my memory of it. Some of the very first social encounters between Emer and I had occurred in this place, when we were 6th years at school, both doing the leaving cert, her at the Lughaigh, me at the De La’. Our schools were right next to the other, the ultimate Catholic joke – single-sex schools slapped right beside one another, scores of frustrated boys and girls divided by a wall or two, libidos restrained, globules redirected. Once when we were here together, Colin Garrett was spotted rummaging around in the front of his trousers while looking at the Marilyn Monroe poster on the wall. He got some awful abuse for it, but all the poor lad was doing was violently disapproving of the sexual division imposed by the educational system. Marilyn was still there. The place hadn’t changed a bit.<br />
<br />
I found Emer outside in the beer garden amongst a number of old heads that were merely footnotes to McManus’s in my brain. Some heads are filed away in the brain, others exist only as minor reference points. I was probably a footnote for most of them too, but that’s no fucking concern of mine.<br />
<br />
‘Oh, here he is, back from Church Street,’ Emer called out, laughing, drunk.<br />
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‘Hey, how are you?’<br />
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‘Grand, yourself?’<br />
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‘Yeah.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh, yeah?’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah.’<br />
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‘Ah, right so.’<br />
<br />
‘Right so, I’ll get a drink.’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah?’<br />
<br />
‘Yeah.’<br />
<br />
‘Okay.’<br />
<br />
‘Oh, and would you like anything?’<br />
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‘Nah, I’m alright for now.’<br />
<br />
We all have to take that seemingly forsaken and fretful journey to the bar some time in our lives, while at the same time trying to avoid the wagging fags and thrashing elbows of day’s end.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFwT86Nc06MBQqd93cR0v2xB-5gWxCd-XFUDts0krbI34CJhC5RF5CHolipHewYjvFKGgQVaPkeTX9ROHtk0HUjFftUlJmNcfHQbACcpzCamz5JFlXoh2glDw5PHip4xoqGrLVLJRyufW/s1600/dund.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFwT86Nc06MBQqd93cR0v2xB-5gWxCd-XFUDts0krbI34CJhC5RF5CHolipHewYjvFKGgQVaPkeTX9ROHtk0HUjFftUlJmNcfHQbACcpzCamz5JFlXoh2glDw5PHip4xoqGrLVLJRyufW/s320/dund.bmp" width="320px" /></a></div>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-38227170684575588732011-08-27T18:18:00.000-07:002011-08-27T18:43:52.254-07:00The Eastern Nothing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjID0R3956o-niAym88Rmt5nfGTy04Hxv9zXo3rcy-cLvaYEphMQ2GpSbd_0PGkQwn6BSzFuarPtPth6U07DoTH52kAC7DT04J9aluDYNonPPqi5-8BOjWuBjayexzOKvf4mtyF5a8DhGM7/s1600/phil.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjID0R3956o-niAym88Rmt5nfGTy04Hxv9zXo3rcy-cLvaYEphMQ2GpSbd_0PGkQwn6BSzFuarPtPth6U07DoTH52kAC7DT04J9aluDYNonPPqi5-8BOjWuBjayexzOKvf4mtyF5a8DhGM7/s320/phil.bmp" width="317px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
I was having trouble in the head one day. I walked along Jianshe Road trying to shake the mess out. As I approached a little coffee bar with people chatting at the tables outside, I saw two giant rabbits leaping onto the pavement from a grassy area nearby. They were enormous rabbits, bigger and whiter than any I’d ever seen. It occurred to me that they belonged to a young kid who appeared to be chasing after them, but his father, who was walking ahead, suddenly called for him, and the kid ran off, leaving the rabbits. These giant white rabbits were strays, didn’t appear to belong to anyone but themselves. This was the sort of thing you got used to seeing in China. These two giant white rabbits scuffling about by themselves on a busy street in the middle of the city: it made perfect Chinese sense. <br />
<br />
One of the rabbits suddenly darted across the road, leaving the other rabbit to toddle off in a different direction. This frustrated me. I’d made the decision just then to follow the rabbits as a fanciful literary upbringing had convinced me that if I ever saw a white rabbit I should follow it because a sequence of wonderful events would surely commence. But their parting of ways had now put me in the agonizing position of having to choose which one to follow. One rabbit may have led me to the wonders, but the other may have led me to tedium. Dodgson never gave Alice those options. He never gave himself those options. He may never have found Wonderland if he had. I gave up on the rabbits, and went into the coffee bar to forget the mess in my head.<br />
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*<br />
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<br />
The coffee bar was snug and mostly quiet, save for a turntable rigged to a Nad amp and a pair of JBL’s, issuing some pretty decent soft acoustic rock sung in Mandarin, noticeably different from the usual canto-pop on offer. The walls of the establishment were garlanded with pages from China Daily, the national English language newspaper, the pages covering well-known stories of recent years, the Lhasa riots, the Olympic games, and featuring headlines such as ‘Does the nation see itself as a superpower?’ Scattered across the newspaper pages were random photos of people travelling –staff maybe, or simply friends of the coffee bar. In a European bar, these photos would perhaps have contained the expanse of the world, youths photographed from Alaska to Zimbabwe, but here the photos didn’t stretch beyond China - yet the images covered a whole world of visuals, from desert to tundra to grassland to metropolis. One image could have been Greenland, another could have been Egypt. One image even reminded me of Carlingford Bay, quite close to where I grew up.<br />
<br />
After the second coffee, a conversation pertaining to comparative philosophy arose. I can’t recall exactly how the conversation began. The other individual involved was a balding Chinese man wearing a check shirt and blue jeans. He’d said Hello to me and the next thing <br />
<br />
‘In China, we enjoy a lighter, more intricate understanding of life. We like to make the journey from A to B and take in the uniqueness of the journey every time. In the west, your journey becomes more and more tiresome for you as you progress, so the uniqueness of getting from A to B is frequently forgotten. You get bored too quickly. Your philosophy’s too mechanistic these days. The sciences have put such a stranglehold on western philosophy that a great majority of it is about nothing.’<br />
<br />
‘How can you say that? Are you saying that the sciences deal with nothing? I’ve a friend back home, he's a chemotherapist and he’d box your ears for you for saying that.’<br />
<br />
‘I’m not talking about functional science here. I’m talking about philosophy.’ <br />
<br />
‘Yes, but isn’t philosophy supposed to be <em>about</em> nothing? Well, I mean, everything <em>and</em> nothing? Doesn’t eastern philosophy also deal with nothing?’<br />
<br />
‘Certainly, but there’s a difference between <em>that</em> nothing and the western nothing. The western nothing is mostly tied up with physics and quantum mechanics and all those things. The eastern nothing is concerned with issues of personal being and relation.’<br />
<br />
‘What about western religious philosophy, Aquinas and all that? Is that not the nothing you’re talking about?’<br />
<br />
‘Yes, that’s something akin to it. All forms of life have this kind of nothing, whether it be within the religious man’s reflection, or the atheist’s rejection. But the philosophy of religion is really just an arm of western philosophy, a specific branch, often at odds with all the other branches, whether that be epistemology, metaphysics, even some ethical systems. Eastern philosophy is bound to this nothing, and will never detach from it. Confucianism, Taoism, Legalism – though they may be distinguished from one another are joined in their shared language of the nothing. Eastern philosophy is infused with the wonder of things. These days, western philosophy views that as naïve. But if you look closely at it, regardless of the eastern nothing we just talked about, eastern philosophy has always been considered by the west something primarily concerned with some mystical spiritual nothing, even though its chief concerns have always been grounded, rather than elevated, located expressly in the social, ethical, and political worlds.’<br />
<br />
‘I’m losing you. My head’s a mess. What then is the key difference between these philosophies in your opinion?’<br />
<br />
‘Poetry, my friend.’ <br />
<br />
The conversation ended around then, and I found myself suddenly alone in the bar. The mess in my head was less thick, but more swirly. I changed from coffee to beer. As the waitress brought the beer, she offered me a cigarette. She’d noticed I was smoking the same brand as her. Zhong Nan Hai, a Beijing cigarette, not as popular in the south as in the north. Here, in Hubei, you only ever saw a few girls or foreigners smoking them. Usually quite light compared to other brands and markedly cheaper. Zhong Nan Hai cigarettes were named after the government buildings in Beijing. In fact, they were Mao’s cigarettes, manufactured especially for him. Whether he actually liked them or not, I’m not sure. <br />
<br />
My beer finished, I decided to leave. I said goodbye and thanks to the waitress and her husband who’d been sitting behind his laptop the whole time I’d been there, barely raising his head. He managed to lift his head to acknowledge my farewell. I gathered they ran the place together.<br />
<br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
The mess in my head continued to swirl as I walked to the bus stop. <br />
<br />
The wheels of cars swirled insistently.<br />
<br />
The outdoor fans and air conditioners swirled mechanically.<br />
<br />
The neon swirled in all able perceptions.<br />
<br />
The world around me swirled with people and activity.<br />
<br />
In the headlights of these kinetics, I caught the rabbits again - choosing to ignore them this time, I watched as they ran once more headlong into something I could only surmise was nothing.<br />
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Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-1402927693609546662011-08-27T14:22:00.000-07:002011-08-27T14:51:28.575-07:00Rational Thinking Thing June 16<br />
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Bloomsday. <br />
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<br />
That’s a day in the month of June put aside by the cultured wing of Dublin to celebrate the novel Ulysses by James Joyce. The day can be celebrated elsewhere in the world, if put aside by other cultured wings, but the celebrations have more gusto in Dublin because that is where events in the book take place. We’re number one when it comes to this particular thing, said Dublin’s cultured wing, and just right they were for saying so. It's a particular thing to be proud of, is it not? So what better way to celebrate a masterful work of literature than dressing up like cartoon yesterdays and eating salads.<br />
<br />
Caitlin had never read Ulysses, but reading the book had not been a requirement for this new job. Her last job had been four months ago. In a delicatessen. She didn’t want to work in a delicatessen again. Rational thought and acute personal awareness hued this reluctance; she'd come to feel nauseous around salads. She knew exactly who she was and that person was not a devotee of the salad. But late pallid afternoons watching rain pimple windows had led her to say yes yes I will Yes to a position with a catering company serving guests at a Bloomsday party near Merrion Square. Salads aplenty would play by the plateful, she was sure of it. Boredom convinced her to accept whatever the world was presently offering. <br />
<br />
The sky glowed phantom white across the city, the sun providing a teasing backlight for the unfortunate humans of that acre of world. Caitlin kind of liked the sky when it took on this egg-white character. She enjoyed dreaming of a private party for a host of suns behind the clouds. The world wasn’t invited, would never be. She had an hour before the job started, so she stopped for a coffee on Baggott Street in a small café which had seats outside. She needed to have seats outside so that she could smoke a cigarette or two. Even though she was in favour of the ban that existed for smoking inside public buildings, she continued to experience some degree of guilt whenever she puffed legally. Her coffee procedure was not the complete procedure others were allowed, taking on as it did the mantle of banishment. She dealt with the guilt however. Her addiction convinced her to accept whatever coffee procedure was presently on offer. <br />
<br />
A man tripped over her outstretched feet as he was leaving the café. He didn’t fall, just stumbled a little. <br />
<br />
Sorry, she said. <br />
<br />
He gave her a look of determined disdain, and then walked on. Caitlin considered why he had been irritated by the incident so very much as to refuse her apology. She usually attributed such treatment by men to her appearance. She wasn’t a pretty girl, she was certain of that, and thought that perhaps if her small elfin composition, ashen-skin, bland spectacles, fuzzy brown hair, and lazy dress sense were replaced with the trimmings of the cosmopolitan lady, vogue hairstyle, and make-up, lose the glasses and experiment with the perfumes that attract, then maybe she would be treated more favourably. Maybe that man would have accepted her apology graciously, told her not to worry about it, asked her if he could join her even, talked about all manner of things, before complimenting her frantically, and asking for her phone number. But no such good fortune; she was stuck with the disdainful look. The guilt swelled up inside of her as she put out her last cigarette with covert skill.<br />
<br />
A weatherman from one of the news programmes was drunk and he knocked a plate out of the hands of a middle-aged woman, the wife of a tycoon from the midlands. The woman cried out in horror, her fanciful 1900’s-style dress drenched in the decorative superfluities of her chosen salad. Caitlin served a potato salad to the woman’s husband who was insensible to his wife’s catastrophe. That’s horrible, dear, he said, as he took the plate from Caitlin without saying thanks. <br />
<br />
Caitlin kept one eye on the watch her nearest colleague was wearing in aching anticipation of her break. The strap of her own watch had snapped amidst a stampede to board an evening bus recently and had fallen and been lost to the streets. Her nearest colleague’s name was Katya and she informed Caitlin that she had come from Kiev in Ukraine in pursuit of her ex-boyfriend who had stolen some money from her. She kept a switchblade in her purse in case she ran into him.<br />
<br />
Why are these people dressed like this? Katya asked Caitlin, surveying an ocean of nostalgic high-class fashion.<br />
<br />
The book is set early in the last century, replied Caitlin. I think that’s why they’re dressed like this.<br />
<br />
What book? asked Katya.<br />
<br />
Ulysses. You know? That’s what this is all about. Bloomsday is all about that book.<br />
<br />
I thought Bloom was a saint. Like Patrick. It’s just a book? What a big deal.<br />
<br />
During her break, Caitlin measured her financial situation. With the money she earned from this Bloomsday job, she could pay an electricity bill that had been worrying her for some time. The digits in the bill had been slowly expanding and developing. The 2 on the last bill that had unnerved her considerably had reformed itself as a frightful 3 on the current bill. As she measured her situation, she came to the conclusion that the principal source of her anxieties throughout the course of her experience as a human had been these digits, constantly the same individually, but changing according to context in the daily business of living. She stubbed out her cigarette under her shoe, and returned to the Bloomsday proceedings, cursing digits as she marched past guffawing bow-tied dandies. <br />
<br />
I am so happy you are back, said Katya, when Caitlin returned. That means I can go for my break. These people are strange. They keep saying these things to me I don’t understand. I wish they would all just get sick now and go home so we finish.<br />
<br />
Caitlin herself had begun to feel a little sick as she’d been walking back; the odour of the salads, which she'd been able to deal with up until now, was suddenly stronger, and the whole function was bathed in it. She found it quite rank. She resumed her stationery role and attempted to guard her nose from the smells as Katya walked off muttering to herself.<br />
<br />
Three women in their early thirties approached Caitlin’s table just then seeking salads. Caitlin studied their lavish and evocative hats as they continued talking to one another, making her stand waiting for them to issue their personal preferences.<br />
<br />
But, that’s it, you see, said one of the ladies, deep in conversation. I would not have dined there at all if I had known it would be like that. And their wine selection, oh my God. How awful.<br />
<br />
Yes, but they have a wonderful vegetarian menu, did you not think? said another lady.<br />
<br />
Passable, yes, I agree, said the first lady.<br />
<br />
Do I know you? the third lady suddenly asked Caitlin.<br />
<br />
Her face did not match any in Caitlin’s memory. A little like a lottery winner’s sister she had seen in a newspaper once. That could be it.<br />
<br />
I’m not sure, smiled Caitlin. I don’t think so.<br />
<br />
Yes, I think I know you. I seem to recall you. I think I may have been in some classes with you all those years ago. UCD?<br />
<br />
No, I didn’t go to UCD, said Caitlin.<br />
<br />
No? Are you sure? I could swear that’s where I know you from. If not, you look awfully like that girl. She looked just like you. She wasn’t a friend of mine or anything, but I certainly remember her.<br />
<br />
Very peculiar, said the first lady.<br />
<br />
Yes, she looks just like that girl, said the third lady. A funny little thing she was. Always wore these ghastly orange leggings. The revolutionary brigade, you know.<br />
<br />
Oh, yes, laughed the second lady. I remember the type. Screaming for attention.<br />
<br />
Yes, this one was very quiet, said the third lady. A real loner, you know. Maybe she dressed like that to compensate, I don’t know.<br />
<br />
Yes, it’s funny actually, Caitlin said then to the third lady. Because you look familiar to me too.<br />
<br />
Oh? Really?<br />
<br />
Yes. Are you that lottery winner's sister?<br />
<br />
The woman looked blankly at Caitlin.<br />
<br />
No, that’s not me.<br />
<br />
Later that night in bed Caitlin reflected on her Bloomsday experience and especially took to considering the incident with the three hat-wearing women. Loners all over the world were trying to erase their histories while lottery winner’s sisters were prone to denying theirs. Maybe behind the changing faces, a shared desire to run off and join the circus lay for all. She thought it best not to try and pinpoint the moment she’d become the person she was now; for all she knew, her identity had changed once more without her being aware of it. <br />
<br />
One matter she was certain of in relation to her existing identity though: she was absolutely rational in her distaste for high society and salads. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmcEu4Gtk_T5nNz0a9eUTFjBybVZoB8oiU0FtHCZjW-9gO-LaufEIXNrRB6kdNlcDrQ5_Vj-vaaNb8m2WK-WamrKJpGwAuiTiURrsQMcHDqwpjk9qfJaBrun4IIxl3AE0xXs2LqGZ1OXv/s1600/blooms.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmcEu4Gtk_T5nNz0a9eUTFjBybVZoB8oiU0FtHCZjW-9gO-LaufEIXNrRB6kdNlcDrQ5_Vj-vaaNb8m2WK-WamrKJpGwAuiTiURrsQMcHDqwpjk9qfJaBrun4IIxl3AE0xXs2LqGZ1OXv/s320/blooms.bmp" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>FATAL STABBING PROMPTS INQUIRY</strong><br />
<br />
<em>A murder investigation has been launched after a 32 year old man from Belarus was attacked and stabbed to death, Gardai said. Dmitri Kosciusko, originally from Minsk in Belarus, was set upon by an as yet unknown assailant on Lower Dorset Street on Tuesday evening. He suffered serious injuries and was hospitalised at Mater Hospital, but died early Wednesday morning.</em>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-85380752272811902052011-08-27T05:11:00.000-07:002011-08-27T05:17:43.454-07:00For Dora do<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo98O3aOY8zh0Cci50wc6wzmK9wU8KVQI7usW6gHRTSojSI_zN4PrQGYt3hpuyjQ6Ien3keRFONEduP87TG2oLzOvrrdOZLpQsxb4Synznsy7_VPrC7kDScRZunlj4yOXZq_4AgVNjy5WU/s1600/5290_131142476473_608636473_3148957_4579481_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo98O3aOY8zh0Cci50wc6wzmK9wU8KVQI7usW6gHRTSojSI_zN4PrQGYt3hpuyjQ6Ien3keRFONEduP87TG2oLzOvrrdOZLpQsxb4Synznsy7_VPrC7kDScRZunlj4yOXZq_4AgVNjy5WU/s320/5290_131142476473_608636473_3148957_4579481_n.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
For Dora do is a home for the spiritually enlightened that rests at the summit of a mountain in Northern China, in case you’ve been wondering. Only finer minds are admitted and a charlatan wouldn’t last a minute. <br />
<br />
Lynch recently gave up the drink. He was sitting on a barstool when a full-bodied ale was placed before him and he had a significant realization and said, ‘I wish to travel further.’ He left the ale standing and walked away. Many barflies questioned their lives that day. <br />
<br />
For Dora do was paradise for intellects. For the wise, it was cloud nine. Lynch thought he would like to check it out. He'd read a newspaper once. It was a lot of old cobblers, but just by reading it he got a good sense of the wise. Just by reading a newspaper he was able to grasp attitudes, reasoning, society’s rules and ways. Lynch was wise to the wise. <br />
<br />
If Lynch had been a student and gone to college, he would eventually have been likened to Aristotle. That’s how right for For Dora do he was. <br />
<br />
He left his hometown. It was bound to happen. With a place like For Dora do in the world, there was nothing to hold him back. It took him a while to get to China, but he got there in time. Lynch was a patient man. He would have waited twenty years if that's how long it took. He found the mountain of For Dora do and began his ascent. It was a big mountain. <br />
<br />
Finally, For Dora do. It was quite a palace. Lynch could hear the buzz of many stimulating conversations inside. There was a lovely light wind in the air. Lynch didn’t think light winds occurred on such high mountains. He decided to sit down outside and enjoy the light wind for a moment. He found a most comfortable patch of green grass gleaming under the noble Chinese sun. <br />
<br />
Two days later, Lynch was still sitting outside. He hadn’t yet knocked on the door of For Dora do. He was contemplating his journey through life. There was no time for For Dora do. <br />
<br />
Weeks later, Lynch was still sitting outside. He was hungry. He ate some leaves. <br />
<br />
A month later, Lynch was still sitting outside. Inside For Dora do, a monk saying a prayer at his window noticed Lynch. He opened the window and called out. ‘Hello, individual. Are you quite alright there?’ Lynch looked up and answered, ‘Grand. Yourself?’ <br />
<br />
A year later, Lynch was still sitting outside. Some pilgrims came along. They were heading for For Dora do. They speculated on Lynch’s condition. <br />
<br />
For years, Lynch sat outside. He became part of the legend of For Dora do. The management of For Dora do came out to him one day and they asked, ‘Would you like to come in? It’s really good inside.’ ‘I’m fine,’ replied Lynch. ‘This is all I need, just this.’ <br />
<br />
The management accepted his repudiation. They went back inside and went back to their wonderful conversations. <br />
<br />
A boy genius inside For Dora do was fascinated by Lynch. He spent days watching the lonesome sitter from his window. A cult grew in the palace. The watchers of the sitter. <br />
<br />
One day, Lynch stood up and went to the door of For Dora do. He started beating his fists against the door and banging his head against it. ‘Send me out a woman,’ he was shouting.Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-78405310199053840492011-08-26T04:20:00.000-07:002011-08-26T04:59:36.813-07:00Will Self's Evulgate Blues<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5_FHhxTIrkZ1OcSVoMyxdCCldBEoyw4R1Qp4hmsopaFr9Ev2lUuay-6q4qyqRkIJaJ5E_8cx8wCCyZC1v3FmHxabtYT8xO4kvQI_LlrwhjPhXCDgBu0w-0Qq-AnALtJFeeZ0MHp32brd/s1600/wit.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5_FHhxTIrkZ1OcSVoMyxdCCldBEoyw4R1Qp4hmsopaFr9Ev2lUuay-6q4qyqRkIJaJ5E_8cx8wCCyZC1v3FmHxabtYT8xO4kvQI_LlrwhjPhXCDgBu0w-0Qq-AnALtJFeeZ0MHp32brd/s320/wit.bmp" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
……….the angry angler of Antwerp, the bonking babboon of Ballynahinch, the catapulting cavecruncher of Cobblegate City, the dippy devildater of Denmark and so on and so on I’ll go. Point? None.<br />
<br />
My walls seem filthier every day. Once entirely yellow, they’re now covered in dirty black shards and little pieces of blue tack from years ago that I was too lazy to remove. Van Go insisted on yellow walls, didn’t he? Something about the colour reflecting well on his disposition and then he put the bullet in his stomach.<br />
<br />
There’s still a substantial volume of dark visible in the wine bottle that’s perched upon my desk, almost resembling a wrestler or bodybuilder with its hefty frame and small neck – could be talking to me – with a little enhancement of my infamous decadence, I could make that throat bob. Grab the bottle, throbby throttle.<br />
<br />
the empty ear of Eercis, the hulking hatstand of Hapkido.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I walked to the library. I thought I’d look around – not for anything in particular. Take in the atmosphere. Check out the female talent. Most of them were students, ripe with their blue leggings and white shirts. I was also fond of wishing for a glamorous librarian. But she wasn’t there - no, never was. Just some wench with frighteningly furry nostrils. I may go to the library right now actually. Who knows? Maybe the employees have been altered in the space of a day. I wonder if it’s opened. Nah, who<br />
cares?<br />
<br />
As I contemplated the unsightly fur of an old librarian's nostrils, I thought of another flocculant thing, my pet rabbit Bertie who’d died the previous year. I’d neglected to provide him with a mate. And I feel that his lack of another bunny to fuck was the chief cause of his demise. Here is a conversation we had before his death:<br />
<br />
BERTIE: I’m working and slaving my life away here.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: You’re running around the garden all day. I’m giving you lettuce. You’re giving me shit.<br />
<br />
BERTIE: I’m dying here. Look at my whiskers. I look like a grand old thing.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: There’s nothing wrong with your whiskers.<br />
<br />
BERTIE: They’re getting weird.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: What do you want me to do?<br />
<br />
BERTIE: I need a lady, wiseacre. I need a woman. I need a roll in the hay.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: You ate all the hay.<br />
<br />
BERTIE: Besides the point. You haven’t even tried to sort me out with a doe.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: I’m sorry. You’re in the same boat as myself.<br />
<br />
BERTIE: Beg your pud, bud. You’re in the boat. I’m strapped to the side. And that’s no place for a bunny.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: I’m a little slow off the mark these days. But I have passions too, you know.<br />
<br />
BERTIE: Passions? Pah! I get ten times the chubbies you get.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: I’m sure. I’ve seen some of the calendars you have pinned up in your hutch.<br />
<br />
BERTIE: Don’t I need the recreation? I’m withering. I want a bit of crumpet. With a big bush on the <br />
back of her.<br />
<br />
THE SELF: You’ve a fine tongue.<br />
<br />
BERTIE: You see, that’s the kind of compliment that increases my frustration.<br />
<br />
the instigating It of Istanbul, the jogging Jap of Jesus, the kettle-kissing kitekiller of Kidgelldare, the laminating lustlover of Lentilmerrick. I may delve once more into that story. “He’s happy is Incubus”. HE’S HAPPY IS INCUBUS. Like the sound of it.<br />
<br />
<em>Carl was aware of a great scene of debauchery taking place in one field. Many witches had assembled and were skinning live goats, eating at the grass and engaging in sodomy with the wailing red remnants of the animals.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8TKhCSlgSm3NM4QbbaUn7a-6h5ZIRUK7LgJA_tTV3ZQxEeDpi8KWO_qrqYGgE3SFv7OiAhBiwhDrHlJLrwcVSbDOXOW_c8e2KzPhSQJJlgt7fi1CsEKerIqdmytRXv6ar0pWZI72atUp/s1600/u.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8TKhCSlgSm3NM4QbbaUn7a-6h5ZIRUK7LgJA_tTV3ZQxEeDpi8KWO_qrqYGgE3SFv7OiAhBiwhDrHlJLrwcVSbDOXOW_c8e2KzPhSQJJlgt7fi1CsEKerIqdmytRXv6ar0pWZI72atUp/s320/u.bmp" width="247px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
The wine’s gone. I’m already half-sozzled – lack of edibles all day. Drank too much the last while. I must refrain. Discipline. Go on the tea and…….maybe some vol-au-vents. aaaagh There’s the TV on now. Never moves. It would be good if it did, like the one in Videodrome. This music that’s on. One of those fucking teen boy groups where they hardly ever move except to hold their hands up every now and again or to close their eyes and roll their heads aimlessly.<br />
<br />
Rastibularbogglefibularpixelandsunkenmelting menstruating monk of Meaty, the nesting nib of Naanassolgacarriedermotommystuckcannot writea thingfionaengo, the oscillating oxovomitter of Oslo, the pesty pillpopper of Pippin.<br />
<br />
<em>A hand slowly lowered itself onto Carl’s moist forehead. The hand belonged to a dazed young girl, naked, and swaying to the music of chaos. Nonsensical roars and shrill orgasms formed ugly melodies over the great floor of flesh at Carl’s feet.</em><br />
<br />
The doorbell rang. I would normally avoid so bourgeois a response as to answer it, however I choose to investigate via ennui. There was a woman standing there with a clipboard. She had to have been in her thirties and she wasn’t a million miles away from pretty. She had a pert and attractive nose that almost looked like it could be pressed in, an argillaceous dough it appeared to be made of. I haven’t a clue what the fuck her nose was like to tell you honestly, but I liked it.<br />
<br />
She was wearing a blue and white tracksuit and looked quite athletic in it, a rather becoming chav. I’d say she was involved with sports for a living. “Hello, I wonder if you would be interested in taking part in a short questionnaire concerning health and fitness” – see, I was right – “just a few minutes of your time it would be,” the woman said. “Absolutely,” I told her, becoming more attracted to her with the passing of every second and enthusiastic about anything that would help me forget my block. Damn, I haven’t shaved. “What’s your name?” I asked her, as we sauntered into the sitting room. “Suzanne,” she said. “Oh,” I say. “I love you, Suzanne.”<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
HER: “Excuse me?”<br />
<br />
“It’s the Lou Reed song, you know.”<br />
<br />
HER: “Oh. I thought it was Leonard Cohen.”<br />
<br />
“Eh, well, either.”<br />
<br />
Magnificent. An interesting beginning for this acquaintance. I asked her if she would like a cup of tea and she said “no” but “thanks” because the questionnaire “probably wouldn’t take too long.” But I kept at it until I was rewarded with a “yes, okay, wouldn’t do no harm”. I brewed up the tea while she described my paludal prison of a home as “nice” just to be polite and I answered “thank you”, gleefully resisting “I decorated it myself”.<br />
<br />
Tea made, we settled in the sitting room and embarked on Suzanne’s questionnaire and I’d forgotten what it was all about. Oh yes, it’s health and fitness, isn’t it? Then on with the inquisition.<br />
<br />
“Are you at present……..”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Have you ever…………..”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Do you…………………….”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Would you………………..”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Have you…………………”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Well, that’s fine. Thanks for your time and the sip of tea.”<br />
<br />
“Sorry I wasn’t a wellspring of answers. Sports aren’t really my cup of……coffee.”<br />
<br />
“No bother at all. I’ve had a lot of that. All you can do is persevere, can’t you?”<br />
<br />
“What’s it for, anyway?”<br />
<br />
“Oh, it’s a council matter. Nothing important. Thoughts about a major town gymnasium or something. It’s only in the pondering stages right now.”<br />
<br />
“Right. So that’s why you’re wearing the tracksuit, yeah?”<br />
<br />
Her eyes became Tony Blair’s devil-eyes.<br />
<br />
“Why? Do you think my clothes peculiar?”<br />
<br />
“No. I was just……..well…….”<br />
<br />
<em>She turned into a creature of immeasurable terror before my eyes. Was she the Succubus to counter my Incubus? Her tongue rolled like the priest's who presided over last year’s Lammas; his tongue had shot from his mouth and coiled itself around a large pillar like a red python before demolishing the structure. This woman transformed in a manner that surprised even me. It was a paroxysm so grotesque I felt impelled to take her mid-mutation and fuck her till her brains reached the point of combustion. Her neck became bloated and worms began to seep from her cheekbones. Her arms elongated and finally tore open and her veins whirled wildly and the rest of her form bled, shaking and thrashing as it changed. </em><br />
<br />
<em>A magnificent specimen lay before me, widened, reddened. Her crevice was a compelling mesh of oozing scarlet and huge black lips. Our union was, needless to say, hasty. As I fucked her, she roared dark obscenities and twisted prayers of hate and I thanked the lord of sickness and decay and famine for granting me this object of mad pleasure. I envisioned our spawn. A demonic child of puss and rot, killer of future life. The first progeny of Incubus and Succubus. </em><br />
<br />
Suzanne, my sapphic witch of ancient evil, was nowhere. To be seen, to be heard, she was neither. Perhaps having no existence outside of my literary diablerie.<br />
<br />
I soon forgot all about health and fitness and Succubus.<br />
<br />
the questionhurling Queen of Queens, the roving rat-face of Romadan, the swirling sundial of Satyrikon, the tickling tommachank of Tatsbride.<br />
<br />
If a man alone can thrive regardless, the isolation can dangle. It’s the delirium of it that keeps me here with the vol-au-vents. How can there not be eventual rapture in this comedy? I’ll have to contrive a sack of grandiloquent mysteries. Think I’ll invade an avenue. Subjugate a pavement.<br />
<br />
the undulating urchin of Urbania, the vending vampire of Vestibular, the wanking weaver of Wicklow, the xcited x-wife of xenophobeland, the yapping yitterbug of Yangtze, the zealous zabaglione of Zecktar. Jesus, mother of Joseph. Spiritual perfection’s looking cloudy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
ENDING<br />
<br />
<br />
Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-45181026051030596272011-08-25T18:37:00.000-07:002011-08-25T18:41:20.702-07:00Sleepy Words<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUkHOFyR6ZlpII6DBqb80n-Di2uKS_7e9p36zb3qRzFb8GJKLo1JngFpWrWulecGvxhT9iYvDAehje3_ant5PogvdWN32CZXl1t8KAL-gv08m194i96YESwNWNm_ib4aJHeORYry00VVNZ/s1600/yawn.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUkHOFyR6ZlpII6DBqb80n-Di2uKS_7e9p36zb3qRzFb8GJKLo1JngFpWrWulecGvxhT9iYvDAehje3_ant5PogvdWN32CZXl1t8KAL-gv08m194i96YESwNWNm_ib4aJHeORYry00VVNZ/s320/yawn.bmp" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A bunch of lazy, sleepy words. That’s what I got. Words that wouldn’t move for anything or anyone. Burned out, apparently, you see. Shattered. I went around to the word-place to ask them for assistance and they were all just lying around, dead to the world. A lot of lazy, useless words. Leave us alone! We’re bloody exhausted, they moaned. I walked around for a bit, kicking a few of them. Get up, will ya! I yelled. But it was no use. They weren’t about to budge. Some of them were snoring very loudly, others were half-asleep and drooling and sniffing. I noticed the feeble concentration of one particularly zonked nome trying to see what was happening on the busy television set in the corner of the room, but mostly the set buzzed away unwatched. I continued to walk around. I hoped to find just one or two words of a semi-conscious nature. I was sure if I found just one or two I could spend a little time nurturing and reviving them and hopefully I could bring them to a ready state. But there didn’t seem to be one word available to me. A crowd of slackers! Yonder is the main culprit. Yonder is perhaps the sleepiest word of them all. A lazy so and so. I’ve had countless arguments with that layabout. He is such a bad influence on the others. And the most distressing thing is that I have never needed his help before in any grammatical sequence. He is not a word I would normally consider employing. But I feel it is he who emboldens this idleness. The others are impressed by his lack of fretfulness. He’s an old hat compared to many of them. The experienced old sage. They look up to Yonder. Think he’s a pretty cool word and everything Yonder does, they should do because of how cool Yonder is. They call him The Word. That’s what they call him. But really Yonder’s had his day in the sun. Sure, he’s still available for use if a sentence requires his presence, but he’s no longer a word of frequent use. They don’t often require his presence at all. So he’s depressed about it naturally and, as a result, he usually sits around on his arse all day long promoting the joys of vegetation and we duly lose so many words to lethargy. Yonder is looking pretty rundown at the moment. That doesn’t surprise me. Yonder always looks rundown. Even more rundown than some of his younger colleagues who all have greater reason for their looks of weariness considering they are more commonly implemented words. Ey, amigo! Yonder said, addressing me. I issued a Pardon me? I looked into his eyes. They were wretched and sneaky. Have you ever looked into the eyes of a word? If you haven’t yet done so, be prepared for a wild spume of cajolery. You be lookin’ for words, amigo, yeh? he continued. Yes, I’m looking for words. What’s it to you, Yonder? I responded, mordantly. He said something else to me in a blackguard style, but I ignored the lazy bum and continued to peruse the room for near-awake words, not getting anywhere. It was shocking to me. I knew there had been a significant decline in effort within the world of meaningful terms and appellations recently, but I had not imagined it to be as serious as this. Everywhere I looked, words of little drive or burden. There wasn’t a single word in the vicinity that was likely to operate within a system of syntax. There were slumberous nouns, sluggish pronouns, bored verbs, droopy adjectives; it was a sight for sore eyes. Quite a lot of words, similar not only in their attitudes but also rather strangely in appearance, yawned at me as I walked past them. Drawl, Shawl, Crawl, and Trawl were just a few. Hello guys, I said. Yawn! they answered. Fine, then. Yawn himself was actually there with them. Spread out yawning on the floor in a sprawl. What a pathetic company it was. Even normally lively words like Skedaddle had dulled down to Skedawdle. Drawl came up to me and drawled, Can’t you get it through your thick skull? We’re not playing by your rules anymore. You’re not wanted here. I offered him all I had in my wallet at that moment if he would agree to take part in a sentence I was planning to create later that evening. I really wasn’t thinking straight at this point. I was looking for any word at all. Anything would have suited me. I didn’t have a position vacant for Drawl. The sentence I was planning didn’t call for such a word. But I would have settled for anything. I would have settled for Drawl. Get out of here, you sleazy mongrel, and take your money with you! We don’t need your kind here. We’re tired of you. We’re tired of it all. Yawn! I decided to get my hide out of there. There wasn’t much point in me sticking around. They weren’t going to help me out. I started to leave. Ey, amigo, you be leaving? So long, amigo! I heard Yonder calling after me. Good riddance! voiced Drawl. Yawn, yawned Yawn. As I was leaving, I noticed some punctuation passing by. They were being obscenely loud and boisterous. Ever since the words first displayed their disillusionment and started sleeping and lounging all day long, punctuation marks had become a reckless kind. They spent their time going to parties and raising hell. They thought they were movie stars. They caused such a racket. And when they did bother to show up for sentence duty, they caused further hullabaloo. Commas showed up drunk and picked fights with random letters. Apostrophes could be spotted indulging in lewd behaviour right in the middle of respectable phrases. And question marks ignored timetables, showed up when they wanted to, whenever they ?wanted to, with little respect for the laws of language. I wasn’t going to begin looking for punctuation marks. I hadn’t even got any words yet. What was the point in that? It pains me that this is what we’ve come to. That these blasted words have just decided to drop out of everything and leave us to our own devices. I’m going to get out of this game altogether because there’s not much point in respecting words if they’re not going to respect you back. Oh, I’ve said it, haven’t I? I may have just gone too far. I’m expecting a backlash any minute now from these particular words for that last comment. Yes, I’ve said it. These words will be asleep any second now. Conked out. Yes, they’re turning from mildly active words to sleepy words. They’re getting tired suddenly. Jesus, very suddenly. It’s<br />
almost like the<br />
words have been<br />
have been<br />
given a shot of some<br />
kind because now<br />
they’re passing along<br />
<br />
at a<br />
slow and<br />
sleepy pace. Holy<br />
mackerel. They’re fading fast but very slowly.<br />
Such weary weary<br />
words. To Hell<br />
with it. <br />
<br />
I’ll survive<br />
without them. I’m a <br />
<br />
survivor. If you <br />
<br />
want these<br />
<br />
words, you<br />
can have them. <br />
<br />
Bec ause I su re w on’t be<br />
nee din g the m<br />
<br />
f o r <br />
m u c h <br />
<br />
l o n g e r.Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-34757994969839478952011-08-25T17:54:00.000-07:002011-08-25T17:57:11.256-07:00A Four-Course Year<em>The Choices of Autumn</em><br />
<br />
Autumn almost snatched the menu from the waiter’s hands. She was eager to see what choices she had, but knew her decision would rest on some as yet unseen shine in her nature.<br />
<br />
Minutes marched by.<br />
‘Hmm, let me see, I’ll have… no, wait a minute…’<br />
<br />
Autumn was aware the menu meant nothing. She could choose whatever she saw fit to choose; the menu listed only a portion of what was truthfully on offer. <br />
<br />
‘Hmm, let me see…’<br />
<br />
Just then, Summer walked in wearing a pleasant ocean gown and mandarin-coloured charm; Autumn was at once ablaze with memory. Leaves were emerald green again.<br />
<br />
Autumn looked the waiter dead in the eye.<br />
‘I’ll have whatever she’s having.’ <br />
<br />
<br />
<em>The Designs of Winter</em><br />
<br />
Winter’s dinner date adjusted his tie again and again as they waited for the starter dishes to arrive. He was an encyclopaedia of insecurities. He knew she didn’t love him as he loved her, so his anxieties swelled with every droop and turn of her head.<br />
<br />
It had taken some time for Winter to become certain of her beauty. Always considered the harshest and most hostile of sorts, and knowing there was some truth to be found in these estimations, she had spent many moons examining her profile, unsure if there was any beauty there at all. <br />
<br />
‘What would you like to do after dinner then? asked her dinner date. Would you like to go see a film? Or, if not, we could just go for a drink somewhere? Whatever you want.’<br />
<br />
He worshipped her. She was beautiful. <em>She</em> was certain of both.<br />
<br />
He stopped adjusting his tie once the starters had arrived at the table. He tried to focus on the food, but was disrupted by Winter’s wandering gaze. He saw that her eyes had located Vivaldi. He hated Vivaldi, that greasy piece of shit. He put his fork down and chewed slowly. He’d seen Vivaldi trying to seduce some diners in this restaurant before, all of them spirits of distinctive impression. He’d even made a move on Winter, but she’d laughed him away. Wasn’t Vivaldi sweet on Summer now?<br />
<br />
Winter’s eyes swerved dryly, seeking to contain only the food that was before her. She delicately cut herself a slice of bread, buttered it, and tasted.<br />
<br />
Winter’s face turned ashen-grey.<br />
‘Oh, it’s too warm!’<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>The Pangs of Spring</em><br />
<br />
‘Wake up, buddy!’ yelled Spring, slapping the waiter’s ass and laughing. ‘An espresso, on the snappy double, ya hear me?’<br />
<br />
Nobody in the restaurant liked Spring. She was too animated, too pushy. There was an excess of sun in her disposition, too much for one so young. Although they desired sunshine in their lives, they knew they were living within an operation of weather. They expected a certain proportion in the colours and qualities they experienced. Spring’s sunshine seemed to them immature, boisterous, and somewhat artificial. She was just a schoolgirl.<br />
<br />
Why don’t they like me? Why do the waiters in this restaurant ignore me? Is it because I am young? Maybe I’m too full-on, eh? They’re not ready for me. When will they be ready for me? They may never be ready for me. They’ll wait until I’m in my teens, when my legs have grown long, and I’ve learned how to treat my hair in such a way that I can dye it blonde. <br />
<br />
<br />
<em>The Foxes of Summer</em><br />
<br />
Summer’s entrance entranced all present. Sullen expressions became expressive smiles, miserable husbands became tawny forsythia, miserable wives ivory gardenia. The restaurant became the golden beach banquet of a diner’s dreams. <br />
<br />
Minutes after this spectacular entrance, Summer collapsed. Vivaldi was the fourth to offer his assistance, but the first to get to her fallen body (following the stampede and wrestling to get there).<br />
<br />
‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ asked Vivaldi.<br />
‘I just…came over all dizzy,’ she groaned.<br />
The alarmed diners gathered around the scene as Summer’s complexion slowly faded, her vim slowly weakened.<br />
‘Don’t die on me, honey,’ wailed Vivaldi, as Summer breathed her last.<br />
<br />
Autumn, Winter, and Spring arrived to observe the commotion of Summer’s passing.<br />
‘What’s all this?’ asked Autumn.<br />
‘Summer took a turn,’ a voice replied. ‘She collapsed.’<br />
<br />
Autumn aimed an unusual expression at Winter and Spring.<br />
<br />
Then all three bowed their heads gently, invented condolences swiftly, and presented them furtively, like foxes attending a farmyard funeral.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_NEOm6yHHpEbfnhDRsmzfRDY7DjlLUSUQaf_BVDKj4EuvEMRy5BaZAKHS8vN279h2HK1rF3DNjFg2WGzhM9xzECmOoaiBXgD45NiZB7SJaCs-qed5rq6fnUnM_JLwnmQsRmFmjerzT7U/s1600/seasons.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu_NEOm6yHHpEbfnhDRsmzfRDY7DjlLUSUQaf_BVDKj4EuvEMRy5BaZAKHS8vN279h2HK1rF3DNjFg2WGzhM9xzECmOoaiBXgD45NiZB7SJaCs-qed5rq6fnUnM_JLwnmQsRmFmjerzT7U/s1600/seasons.bmp" /></a></div>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-52307374656235789482011-08-25T08:25:00.000-07:002011-08-25T08:25:45.966-07:00Edgar the Sloth<em>- There you go, son.</em><br />
<br />
<em>- What is it?</em><br />
<br />
<em>- A sloth.</em><br />
<br />
<em>- Is it dead?</em><br />
<br />
<em>- No, it just doesn’t move.</em><br />
<br />
<em>- What use is it?</em><br />
<br />
<em>- A seat maybe, or foot-rest, I dunno.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
Edgar could hear leaden voices surrounding him, the empty verdicts of sedentary minds. <br />
<br />
He went to the toilet on the floor unbeknownst.<br />
<br />
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<!-- google_ad_section_end -->Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-18047286329236816862011-08-25T06:06:00.000-07:002011-08-25T06:14:24.410-07:00Wudangshan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46HDSrSki4x0neyO5XJtKUTy5Hviq_nkD4BXv4D7ykXvORblqCCq1qDU4-wsAfAfsKEswtAu5YgO-OU2QfpJHypV4blpXqRocZwXxsHRGHw63wSoDz52o1SzF8-H2SAKZdZvqlyzHv7_k/s1600/5290_131138876473_608636473_3148758_3115009_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46HDSrSki4x0neyO5XJtKUTy5Hviq_nkD4BXv4D7ykXvORblqCCq1qDU4-wsAfAfsKEswtAu5YgO-OU2QfpJHypV4blpXqRocZwXxsHRGHw63wSoDz52o1SzF8-H2SAKZdZvqlyzHv7_k/s320/5290_131138876473_608636473_3148758_3115009_n.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
As each stair is taken, another pound of flesh in sweat is spilled. The stairs of these mountains are painted with human strain. On each step lies the residue of a million toiling bodies. But alongside that spattered body stain you can also see the dye of human courage and endeavour. Isn’t that nice? <br />
<br />
I’m not the only one climbing these mountains. Many others are doing so. Chinese people climb mountains such as these as a weekend pastime. I follow sweats up these mountains and sweats follow me, like stinking tinkerbells spitting through the air, the dizzy sprinkling rainfall of human struggle.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1I6-URR-v_kUcBFqch4hXpEqE7AbNdFZgugT2s9s8VJT0-QpzGi0eFa14I8_odiSgk9Aw2_0_doq3o-8q5AFkPL4MopR0cy-poubmtBdAao___FL6wVTWwPbEI-3I0_K5LCJassDqbyhn/s1600/5290_131140056473_608636473_3148811_2588238_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1I6-URR-v_kUcBFqch4hXpEqE7AbNdFZgugT2s9s8VJT0-QpzGi0eFa14I8_odiSgk9Aw2_0_doq3o-8q5AFkPL4MopR0cy-poubmtBdAao___FL6wVTWwPbEI-3I0_K5LCJassDqbyhn/s320/5290_131140056473_608636473_3148811_2588238_n.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
I turn my head in extreme slow motion and watch as one of my own residues drips slowly from my chin, landing explosively on the craggy rock stair, melting into motionless stone, and still history.<br />
<br />
I’m dreaming of Hong Kong, my girlfriend wails. I should be shopping right now. You’re a bastard!<br />
<br />
I wipe a particularly stinking tinkerbell from my forehead and begin to rethink my judgment on all manner of things.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZs8fu2qUJ3BS3cU4oWgOZ6aW99HKvWX3s_jKD8DApTpOxAccjtDSqwPkoT3XOAbe4c9E23mCxsdNc0YNfElNvC1YnrIK5a3PNtL62pqLNhxmxZpK6iO3OvrypnO5poaatKPZ-YT6hkJRT/s1600/5290_131136666473_608636473_3148745_7564734_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZs8fu2qUJ3BS3cU4oWgOZ6aW99HKvWX3s_jKD8DApTpOxAccjtDSqwPkoT3XOAbe4c9E23mCxsdNc0YNfElNvC1YnrIK5a3PNtL62pqLNhxmxZpK6iO3OvrypnO5poaatKPZ-YT6hkJRT/s320/5290_131136666473_608636473_3148745_7564734_n.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
As we crawl upwards towards the first gate, my girlfriend suddenly happy having discovered fellow-climbers she can share her troubles with in plain Chinese, I find I’m the lone foreigner ascending the Wudang Mountains, in this long neck of the high woods anyway, so I stop for a moment, and allow the others to sweat on ahead of me. Below me I can see the Purple Cloud Temple swathed in mist, its ancient roof seated above the cloud, looking like something I’ve only seen in King Hu movies. To my right is a tree covered in red Taoist bands. These bands provide blessings in Taoism, and this tree looks considerably blessed. I reach over the cliff, looking down to see if I can make out where it is the tree begins. Of course, I cannot. We are too high up, and the main body of this tree is already hidden amongst a crowd of other trees branching out of sockets in the mountain. Then I start thinking.<br />
<br />
Which mountain are we on, by the way?<br />
<br />
Shut up, she says. Show me Hong Kong, you bastard!<br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-89239950041443442722011-08-25T05:57:00.001-07:002011-08-25T05:59:16.550-07:00Not Then When AgainTom is following her home from school again. <br />
<br />
<em>Not again</em>. How can he be so stupid. <br />
<br />
Does he not realise she can see what he’s up to, hiding behind cars while she’s in the supermarket, his head emerging <em>then when</em> she exits, his head slowly hovering behind the car windows like a loch ness neck moving along the water in postcards from the beyond?<br />
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Did it look like he was going to stop? <br />
Certainly <em>not then</em>, no. <br />
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She wouldn’t say anything, but she decided tomorrow to take a picture instead <em>when again</em> the creature surfaced and maybe sell it to Scotland where they’re interested in that sort of thing.Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-48690175023873116042011-08-25T05:55:00.000-07:002011-08-25T06:16:18.425-07:00Eyeball Thieves Remain UnnoticedJack Hanratty observed the field coolly and industriously. He blinked only at the sound of the hurley’s cracking off each other. The game was a lively one, muck making delirious patterns in the air as players spat obscenities up and down and up and down the pitch. There was a crowd of youths behind the goalposts to the north and they were stumbling all over the place and passing a bottle around. Jack was sure it was poitin in the bottle. Jack had coached some of these boys some years ago. They’d been good players too. These were the ones to be seen regularly abusing the present generation of players from the sidelines. <br />
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A boy was on a run. He charged forth like a rocket, sprinting down the field. The boy’s physique grew in his own estimation with every stride. Nobody could catch him. The other players huffed and puffed in his wake. <br />
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But his glory was ill-fated. Tripping on a torn clump of turf, the boy was flung through the air. He landed facedown on the end of his hurley. The steel band on the head of the stick gorged into his brow, plucking his right eye out. The eye came out very slowly and clung for a moment to the boy’s face before detaching completely and dropping onto the grass.<br />
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Laughter erupted from behind the northern goalposts, the drunken youths falling over themselves. The first person to see that the boy’s eye had been driven out of its socket was the tallest and most fearsome player on the pitch and when he saw the terrible aperture in his fellow athlete’s face, he turned aghast and scuttled off. <br />
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Jack walked very calmly towards the fallen player, in a way that seemed already enlightened to all manner of dreadfulness. As he came upon the throng of people gathered around the wounded player, he stopped. On the grass before him, he saw the boy’s eye. It had been missed by the concerned masses. Jack knelt down and quick as a flash popped it in his pocket.<br />
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Picture by Daniel Johnston<br />
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Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-85827433450494568662011-08-25T05:42:00.000-07:002015-01-01T16:47:04.211-08:00A Hong Kong Stuntman Thinks: 1967<br />
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King Hu was a little too remote and bizarre for me at first. He didn’t appear to have any interest in the martial arts at all. To be honest, I felt he was aiming to exploit their cause initially, jumping on the wuxia bandwagon. <br />
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The first time I met him was on the set of Dragon Gate Inn in 1967. He didn’t care much for us stuntmen. We were the ones producing the goods he would benefit from, but he barely spoke to any of us. Han Ying Chieh, the martial arts director, didn’t care much for him either. He didn’t appreciate Hu’s estimations. <br />
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One day, Han Ying Chieh got into a serious argument with Hu. One of the actors had tripped and injured his head badly on the stairs. Hu swore loudly to himself behind the camera as he’d been aching to acquire a particular shot. Han Ying Chieh was getting sick and tired of Hu’s mulish need for perfection, so he began shouting angrily at him. Hu was simply a man of letters, and could not have stood against the martial competence of Han Ying Chieh. Yet Hu responded to the angry response with characteristic pigheadedness. He came from behind his camera and walked towards Han Ying Chieh slowly, as though he was about to engage physically. He stopped about a foot away from Han and began to unload a plethora of abusive Mandarin nonsense which nobody really understood, except the Taiwanese extras, who were giggling in the background. <br />
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I had to intervene, as I could see Han Ying Chieh was ready to floor the bookish Hu. If I didn’t do something, a dreadful beating would have occurred. And I was beginning to feel that there was more to Hu than had met my eye. <br />
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I ran to the actor who had fallen on the stairs, pulled his slippers from his feet, and stamped on them maniacally for about a minute. All present on set looked at me in astonishment. Han backed off, left to go drink some tea and calm down. <br />
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Hu stood bewildered, staring at me for a large moment before asking me what it was I did and what was the purpose behind it. <br />
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‘A touch of zen was needed in order to complete this moving picture,’ I replied. <br />
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How he took it, time would either tell or disregard.<br />
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<!-- google_ad_section_end -->Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3712747388225641658.post-26369966899435718652011-08-25T05:37:00.000-07:002011-08-27T10:49:55.514-07:00Chagang Flood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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I arrived home late last evening to find the Earth at play again, launching a new attempt to swallow my apartment building. Ganbei! roared drunken Earth. Bottom’s up! It took me an hour to wade through the muck and swamp to reach the front door. <br />
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An old couple on the first floor were scrambling around in the broken light of the building’s entrance. Their apartment had nearly surrendered to the deluge. As we worked to make certain their electricity wouldn’t be affected, the old man showed me his underwater library. It was a large and attractive library and the Chinese characters on the book-spines looked grand swaying delicately underwater. I wasn’t yet fully informed with regards characters but I could make out one or two titles from a few nuggets of filed familiarity in backseat of brain. I could see the Gu Wen Guan Zhi, a famous book of classical Chinese essays. I knew this because I had an edited copy in my arid apartment upstairs. The old man had an enormous edition however, obviously complete, fat with knowledge and history, and now bloating fatter in its submersion.<br />
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I invited the old couple up to my apartment on the fifth floor for some tea to wait for the flood to pass. I felt somewhat of a hero for doing this, and resolved to reward myself with a fast food meal the next day. As we entered my apartment, the old woman pointed to the pair of heeled sandals which belonged to my ex-girlfriend that were lying upturned and unemployed at the doorway. I couldn’t understand what she said to her husband about the sandals. But the incorporated disappointment in her comment was certainly not of my imagination.<br />
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I made some tea and the old couple appeared very happy about that. I showed the old man my copy of Gu Wen Guan Zhi. He laughed at it, perhaps because of how slim it was compared to his copy, and perhaps also because it was in English. <br />
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The rain started again. Very heavy. It thrashed down against the windows mercilessly and I could see a gloom swab at the old couple’s faces.<br />
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I decided to play some music to take their minds off the rain, but I found myself struck with frustration trying to choose something appropriate. Rarely does a DJ find himself with only an elderly Chinese couple to entertain. I thought to search for Chinese music I had on my computer, but all I had in that respect was limited to underground rock bands from the recent era of Chinese punk, post-punk, and post-rock. I couldn’t be sure how they would respond to the reactionary sounds of modern youth in the People’s Republic on this evening of great stress, so I just discarded the whole idea. <br />
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I sat down beside them in the sitting room as the old woman began to fall asleep. I took a pillow from the cupboard and her husband thanked me and gently tucked it under her head. <br />
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The old man and I sat for a while without talking. I took out some cigarettes and offered him one, but he declined. As I put the cigarettes to one side, he surprised me suddenly by asking if I had any wine. As he asked, he checked that his wife was soundly out for the count. Luckily I had a full bottle of baijiu in the kitchen which I’d nearly forgotten all about. The old man beamed giddily upon the revelation. I carefully poured two glasses of baijiu as he once more checked on his wife’s slumber. <br />
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The rain kept beating outside.<br />
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Ganbei! cried the old man.<br />
Ganbei! cried I.<br />
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Earth rose up around us, but we continued into the night together, flooding our bodies and souls in rather wonderful defiance.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04xrcVJxQNkjDr_kPtB3fmJ48dvUbaCVyRI4CsP9INecN6SxCujDqCBAPd7r4RrepBSobcHUDmoYUddm3CqtLS8qt6qLjjMdMsDYMphqS_pJ9HIS3p3U6AVmxI0TOoHxYn74sqUBAzxEH/s1600/flood.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213px" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04xrcVJxQNkjDr_kPtB3fmJ48dvUbaCVyRI4CsP9INecN6SxCujDqCBAPd7r4RrepBSobcHUDmoYUddm3CqtLS8qt6qLjjMdMsDYMphqS_pJ9HIS3p3U6AVmxI0TOoHxYn74sqUBAzxEH/s320/flood.bmp" width="320px" /></a></div>Sean McNultyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08731539454920854573noreply@blogger.com0