Still not happy

Saturday, April 30. 2005

You just thank your lucky stars Im chipper about everything else


[Written 11 April 2005]

Revenge? It doesnt suit me
I guess, but you know what?

Wouldnt it be just
Fucking grand?



Yeah, dont know how Id do it, but the thinking is that Y treated me with less than respect. Funny, that. Might be I have some issues there, could be. Well have to talk about that eventually.

I cant help but say K is a confused little girl. That excuses nothing. She still should have been better about keeping her panties on. Listen to me, taking the moral high ground! Awesome, hey. But theres reason again there. It was windy yesterday and I saw female underwear for the first time in what must be measured as months. When weeks is the unit of measurement, thats still not such a bad thing. After that, youre searching.

Back to K. She got caught out, simple as that, but even in the face of that still failed to show any repentance. I guess that gets to me. Having Y on her side is a strength. Not like I cant face up to her, I never want to. Revenge? Hatred? Wonderful things in the right hands. Mine dont seem right, just dont seem right. So caught out, good thing that I never tried the goods. I thought that they might even be unspoiled. Boy, was I wrong. Yep, yep. Are we ever honest all the time? Only the true and faithful. Im not there, shes not there and Y isnt there. What fucks with me is that they might just not even care. I could be the only one in the world who cares about this shit.

Thats just Monday night talking.

I go through this because I care and I have issues. Im in counselling about them (albeit with the J via email). Is it wrong that I want them to be feeling bad about this? Only because I care. Something about taking this all and making a learning experience out of it. Turning it around turning shoes into charity.

Onward.

I left the power cord for this thing in a box somewhere when the move happened. So until I get it tomorrow I have about half an hour of juice left. This time constraint is not at all conducive to proper writing. Damned good thing Im not a proper writer.

Local happenings with the natives include a further step to help rid the train system of gropers. The last few trains of the day have a carriage reserved for women only. To my mind, this was a good start but pitifully unaccommodating. There are drunk assholes on the trains from four pm. Hell, you dont need to have a drunk involved. Just a train and a target. The train can be as empty as the inside of Tom Delays head and still be the scene of a groping. Last Monday the women only carriage was extended to the morning rush hour in what I call a good start. They need to have it all day, if you ask me. But what was the result? Less groping? I dont know. The impact was felt, however, system wide. The first day, half hour delays. The next day, twenty minutes. This week its down to five, but still it remains an issue. The why of this? Guys who are so set in their morning train routine that they just got on without thinking, or trying. I guess.

Powers out. See you.

Something strange

Friday, April 29. 2005
[written 10 April 2005]

I want to call this epic

But I think it was really only an epic ball of shit, in the end. Something strange indeed. Of all the tales from S University, which will one day be told, this doesnt rate up there with the best of them; no, far from it, but it did just happen last night so strap yourselves in. Reserve your judgement and please, by all means, email me and let me know what you think. Am I the victim? Fucking retarded? Used or just plain stupid? Man, Im feeling them all right now so that will surely taint the glasses Im wearing to write this down.

Might be a good companion to the fog.


Flutter, flutter, into my drink, into my eyes
Looking so pretty up there Until you flutter down
And youre just a broken blossom.



This all starts with Y. That in its own is a long piece of prose, so I will say here that Y was a major part of the legend of last summer, and shes a she. I thought she was a wonderful girl, the phrase one of a kind is all too appropriate. Once upon a time Id say nothing to talk her down, nothing at all but right now I want nothing more than for her to never darken my towers again. It is all Ys fault. Just doesnt get it, and I wish shed stayed out of my little world. Holy shit, just writing this now I made a connection. Imagine that Fight Club was only the first half hour. Id name my tumour Y.

I really hope that I see an explosive ending, preferably involving a lot more of my wang and a lot less Edward Norton.

Then theres K. I had Sleazy R have a talk to her, because Sleazy has that innate ability to slip under radars. I never even realise Id breached the perimeter but we reached the same conclusion. Shes a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Only is took Sleazy 10 minutes, took me the best part of a month. See what I mean?

Anyway. The deal is such. Y, having not said so much as seasons greetings to me for the best part of four months pops up out of the blue with an invitation. Got this friend, she says, might want to meet you. I ignore but curiosity gets the better of the situation and I think, hey, you never know. Long and the short, we meet up twice. I think shes nice, too quiet for my liking, but nice enough. Not quite what youd call my type. Thats a generally reliable call so Ill stick to my initial impression.

I hate holding back. If anyone reading this knows the involved, shit, sorry. Therapeutic art. I hide behind this.

Saturday I show up for a gathering. Guys from S University, my most excellent and beloved friends. For God only knows, Y is there. I didnt write the history, but I felt strongly toward her. Thats in summers past, its not been my favourite meeting in the months since. So why is she here? Crashing my party, dammit, thats what.

K is there too. Initially, I was a little surprised. But, being a friend of Ys, that would explain it.

But what happens next is the killer. Tune in next time!

Accident update

Friday, April 29. 2005
Well, my left arm is starting to hurt quite a bit - it feels like I've got no strength in it and it's hard to lift it too high. I think it might've been exacerbated by the way I slept.

And then I've seen three scooter accidents just this morning. I've been taking it pretty easy, alright.

Ouch@
the_j at house-of-the-dragon dot com

The first step is to admit you have a problem

Thursday, April 28. 2005
This morning on my long ride to work, I was mulling over my road test. I formulated this test a long time ago, and it's always worked for me. It's a very simple method for determining if you are an idiot on the road.

Here's how it works; there's only one question. "Is this person not me?"

If the answer is no, then the person is an idiot.

Old ladies who rush in front of everyone as soon as the light turns green, only to putter along at 20 kilometres an hour: idiots.
Wannabes who block gaps between cars because the don't have the balls to ride through: idiots.
Guys who have much faster bikes than me, even when loaded with their girlfriends: idiots.
Tai-ke who ride smoky old heaps of shit with their legs spread miles apart: idiots.

Today, I found the first contradictory instance. I put the front of my bike into the back of a small car, completely my fault. Completely avoidable too. Life is not so poetic that I had this accident whilst mulling over my idiot test, though that certainly would've improved the narrative.

Predictably, it all happened in slow motion. The bus ahead veered right, closing off the gap between it and the stopped car ahead. I hit the brakes, but there wasn't sufficient time to stop. I slammed the back of the car, throwing me forward and the back wheel of the bike up. I somehow managed to hang on to the bars though. The guy and his wife got out of the car; I'm dazed but I managed to get my helmet off. I immediately apologised in Chinese. The guy looked a bit bemused, really.

I don't believe in angels and I don't make statements like "my guardian angel was watching over me", but today someone was watching over me. She was a middle-aged Taiwanese lady who looked vaguely familiar, and she witnessed it all.

She looked at back of the guy's car, and said to him, "沒怎麼樣," ("There's nothing"). I gaped at the guy's car. It was already previously damaged - there're dints and scratches everywhere, not just where I hit. In fact, it seemed that the only damage is a little bit of his paint on the front of my bike.

He doesn't even come around to check; it seems he's happy enough with the word of a stranger. It's ironic - back home, if you hit someone with previous damage there's a pretty good chance they will accuse you of doing all the damage. Furthermore, if you hit someone back home, the chances you will part ways without swapping phone numbers is only slightly above zero. Here in Taiwan, it's crash, ok?, bye.

I smiled nervously and bowed as he got back in the car and drove off. I was pretty shaken. The lady looked at me. "Drive slower, ok? Take it easy."

"I, uh..." I nodded.

I put my helmet back on and rode off. I was still stirred up and I wondered if there's any damage to me or bike that I can't see. I felt ok.

The first step is to admit you have a problem. So at the risk of messing up a whole bunch of posts I had planned for the future, I'm going to say it: I have a problem. I ride like a maniac and I speed excessively. The accident today was the second one I've had where I've been at fault. There.

My lawyer has also told me to mention that this is a satirical website, and nothing on it should be taken seriously, except perhaps this disclaimer.


Postscript:
Well, there's some justice, it seems. My left arm and neck are sore. I hope I haven't done anything too serious.

It's this or intellectual property theft

Tuesday, April 26. 2005
Hey everyone, the j here, I've interrupted an important congress of the sexual kind that I was having with Annette Lu to bring you this important post. (Chen Shuibian was holding the camera, for those perverts of you who want to know.)

HotD has become a family affair. Congratulations and welcome, Xiao Gou, we hope you'll keep us entertained. KC can't be here but he sends his best wishes for your career at the House.

I think I made a mistake today.

Starting recently at work, we're required to file off "Daily Reports". I don't actually mind this but I know it's purely for the purposes of exhorting people to increase their volume of work each day. I wouldn't say I treat it with contempt; I I think mocking is a more accurate term. Among other things I've sent it off messages like "word up to the EFF BEE AAAYYYYEEE Massive!", and I refer to it as "Dairy Report".

I guess I crossed the line today though. You might know that Adobe's Indesign has a "Fill with placeholder text" feature. It generates nonsense text to fill your text boxes. I generated some and put it in the body of the email, along with my Dairy Report. I put an exclamation mark on the end to make it look as though it was meaningful text.

It looks like this:
Lorper ipit irit nim dolore tat nonsequ tisisiscil il ing ex erit niam do dipit lutpatuercil iustisci ex er ing euiscil amconum iriusto odolore tat!


Don't forget I work for a translation firm.

I get an email back from the big boss:
I don't understand.
Pls. in English


I don't know what to do. My first thought was to tell him it's a couple of quotes from Voltaire: "A witty saying proves nothing" and "It is dangerous to be right in matters on which the established authorities are wrong". However I got an email from the next level down, saying that plain English is sufficient and I shouldn't test people's tempers. I changed tack: better to shut my mouth.

I'm still committed to my mockery, but I'm going to have to make the next one much more subtle to avoid serious trouble.

Now, you must excuse me, I have to get back to spamming charitable organisations with offers of Cheap R....x MEDS and imporve ur Credit Rating NOW$$$$. If you're interested, you can sign up for my spam by leaving a comment with your email address.

I just noticed that if you click my name down the bottom there, it displays all my entries. I always assumed it linked to my email. -10 133+ P01NT5 for the j.

The Jesus of Suburbia is a lie@
the_j at house-of-the-dragon dot com

Xiao Gou has entered the building (and done a little shit on the carpet)

Monday, April 25. 2005
I usually find Blogs (I hate that word, it sounds like some kind of hideous growth or attached piece of faeces: check out my blog!) to be self-indulgent, pathetic internal monologues of ordinary people. I guess J and KCs blog is exactly that, but at least they do it in an intelligent, enjoyable and insightful way. Im not sure if I can match their abilities, but I will at least attempt to make my random thoughts readable and possibly add some kind of philosophical discourse to them. Thanks to the aforementioned dudes for letting me publish my stuff.

First of all, I guess its appropriate to pay respect to the poor ANZAC bastards, who, do to the stupidity of those above (always the ones safely out of harms way), got their arses pasted by the Turks, starting this day 90 years ago. You guys had more balls than I can imagine. And heres respect to everyone else in the world whos died for no good reason at all, apart from some words that come out of a politicians main organ; their arsehole. Lest we forget that wars are almost always started by politicians, and almost always fought by the poorest, common people. By the way, if youve never seen Full Metal Jacket, do so.

Anyway whilst Im stuck in Australia for the time being, I made my debut trip to Melbourne last week, for my cousin Stuarts wedding (congratulations, Stuart and Mayuko). I was very impressed by the city, especially the little suburb of Kensington, where I was staying. Full of old Victorian cottages, and cafes, I guess it has a similar vibe to Brisbanes Paddington or West End.


I was also fortunate enough to go on the Great Ocean Road down to the 12 Apostles, where a very generous Japanese fellow shouted me a ride in a helicopter. This was pretty amazing. The whole experience was made by a crazy tour-bus driver, who synchronised the whole trip with terrible musical puns (he played The Long and Winding Road on a particularly ambiguous stretch of highway).

So now Im back in Brisbane, working eight hours a week in UQs quietest library, and working full-time in the office of hedonism. If youve ever tried this, youll know its not quite as easy as it sounds. To maintain an incredibly pleasurable existence, you have to put up with regular bouts of depression. Im not kidding. The richest, white-toothed, buffed and fake-tanned arseholes with those annoying grins and 10 Maseratis are so jaded by their happiness they might as well be living on the street. A friend told me her absolutely-filthily-rich 13 year-old neighbour said I feel like I just dont have enough money.

The key to happiness is definitely not money, although it helps. Its about getting really depressed, managing your substance abuse, watching regular British comedy, and reassuring yourself that there is indeed someone out there who wants to sleep with you. Even if it is my dog, Max. Meh, he keeps the bed warm.

The pain - even my friends do this

Wednesday, April 20. 2005
No.... please. Please don't do it again, or I might... vomit.

If you don't know anything about any hanzi/kanji-based languages (and trust me, you don't), please don't use them. At all. No tattoos, no hiragana on your stupid photoshop-job, nothing. Because you'll get it wrong. You always do. Don't even try using Babelfish for stupid direct translations. Don't use romanisations - you don't know what you're talking about.

Above all, drop your stupid fascination with this fantasy Japan. (This goes for other Asian countries too.) These places don't exist as you imagine they do, and watching anime you don't understand does not count as an insight into culture.

I know you laugh when you read Engrish.com, I do too. But when I see your pathetic attempts at owning something that doesn't belong to you, I just shake my head in embarrassment.

Read this, put an end to your goddamn stupidity and my pain.

Postcard from outside

Tuesday, April 19. 2005
Editor's note: This was pulled together from a bunch of emails from the Cat's phone while he was netually impaired. - the j

Dear J,

19 Apr
Tit cancer? Tit cancer? Dont make me trump you. My wang has not gotten the airing I believe it truly deserves. I had a similar bag and issue. Only I never got cancer, just bad posture. I think I win. Or maybe you just lose. Good thing I have no access to interweb or I'd be posting some real insightfully misogynistic shit right about now. I'd make you look downright introspective, or something.

17 Apr
What a shit. I have a floppy disk full of postings and this internet cafe doesnt provide floppy drives. I might have to make use of my stored up manpaste and leave my mark in the corner.

15 Apr
I think I broke the record for longest stretch of time between jacking offs. Seriously, this is second only to the ten years before I started. I must be broken.There's always the risk of drowning someone or something when the drought breaks. Im almost over the internet withdrawal... but I have to try really hard to not think about what's going on in PvP. [Ed: Ha! You should see what theyre up to in Penny Arcade!]

17 Apr
I have another half hour here. Stupid cafe. Obsolete tech should never die! I'll be adding a flash drive to my shopping list, I think. I need a coupla new t-shirts and there's a new Ben Folds CD out there. Then I go home and then, I go home.

Should have a connection going sometime this week. Should. Ha. Take it easy. If things go bad here, you'll hear the scream.

15 Apr
Damn, there are too many hot ladies here.

By the way, I feel bad about the lack of KC input. Can you edit something together from these mails? i leave it in your journalistic hands. please fix the punctuation and make me interesting.

Love,
KC

Virtu-bosity

Tuesday, April 19. 2005
Another post. Im feeling very verbose today.

I left class early today, just wasnt in the mood. I came home just as Brian was leaving for Germany. Poor guy, he genuinely hates all the trips his company sends him on, as jealous as it makes me.

I cracked open a Boddingtons, courtesy of my boss, Jamie they were a birthday present. Its been a while since Ive drunk anything from a can with a Widget. In my more formative years of beer drinking I would occasionally drink Guinness with the Widget, I was never quite sure how I felt about them. Im still not sure but I must say that it poured damn perfect. Id like to say that I used the Boddingtons to wash down some traditional Brit pub grub, Jamie, but instead it was the dumplings I brought home from work. It feels pretty good to be fed and knocked up on someone elses tit though.

A little while back I heard a delightful Americanism (one of the few I can stand) for this particular kind of dumpling (鍋貼). The word is pot-sticker and the etymology presumably is a literal translation of the Chinese. Cute.

So I sit down with my beer and pot-stickers, and turn on the TV, one of the luxuries of my current abode. CNN, bleating on about the machinations of deciding a pope. Honestly, how such a respected news agency can mouth such platitudinous bullshit and get away with it is beyond me. Yeah, I was a TV major in Journalism, ok?

MTV isnt much better Rob Thomas new song, the shitfulness of which is only surpassed by whatever it was I was watching this noon over breakfast. All that changing CG shit in your video looks awesome, Rob, and it doesnt clash at all with the fact youre trying to pretend youre RnB all of a sudden. Matsuura Aya is on now, and looking at her I can believe anyone ever truly thought she was just 18. She looks older than me, for Christs sake. That reminds me: If Tsunku didnt make J-Pop, do you think hed make CampHouse? Do the Love. Lets together now.

Anyway, KC has asked me to get some shit of his together because he cant get to the internet now. So Im gonna do that, if it works out like shit, its his fault. And there I was, going for the longest run ever of uninterrupted posts.

Interesting fact: Did you know they use green liquid in feminine hygiene product adverisements here? I always thought it had to be blue.

Some more stuff

Tuesday, April 19. 2005
I finally got to posting these.

The back.


The front.

Explain yourself

Tuesday, April 19. 2005
I guess my last post probably requires some explanation. Although I jokingly refer to tit cancer, something is going on in my breast. I've got no idea what it is, but my right pec has been really painful for more than a week. At first I thought it might my the bag I take to work, as the strap goes over my chest, across the right side. However, I haven't been wearing it for a week and there's no sign on improvement.

There's no signs of bruising, and the left side is fine. What's worse is, I swear that the right pec is actually getting smaller than the left. Maybe it's just my paranoia, but it sure looks smaller. It's so bad that I'm intending to go to the doctor; in fact, I would've gone this morning but my insomnia last night meant I slept in today. It's a bitch.

Oh, and I'm a rabid Fight Club fan. I must've seen that movie about a million times. (I've read the book too.) Did I mention I'm a style-biter?

Today has only really just started and it's already been a ton of suck. My tit hurts, we had a stupid meeting (they always bear a strong resemblance to a complete waste of time), I got overcharged for the shipping on an internet purchase I made, and to top it off I invited someone to dinner only to have them ask why. Well fuck that.

Thank god for webcomics.

Remaining men, together

Tuesday, April 19. 2005
Warning: The following is an incredibly insensitive post and makes fun of stuff of which you shouldn't make fun. It also steals shamelessly from Fight Club, and I apologize for these things.

Insomnia. It's just before 3am here and I couldn't sleep. It'd been getting worse lately: I'd been to the doctor and asked him to prescribe me something, anything, to get me to sleep.

He refused.

"What you need is good, natural sleep," he told me.

"But Doc, can't you see I'm in pain?"

"You wanna see real pain, go and visit testicular cancer victim's support group, that's real pain."

Although I never went to the meetings, it slowly dawned on me what was happening. I could feel it. Every morning when I woke up, I could see it in the mirror too. Little by little, I was turning into Meatloaf.

But that's only half of it.

I, the j, had tit cancer. No fucking joke. The right of my two, huge, man tits was painful, and, as the tumour ate the flesh, getting smaller than the left.

I asked KC to come and see if he thought the right one was getting smaller than the left one.

It got worse. The pain never went away. During the day, just my shirt brushing over the skin (taped down so noone could see my tits) was almost more than I could manage. At night, I would roll onto my front and the pain was excrutiating. I had tit cancer.

This brings me to tonight, it's almost 3 am, and what any of this has do with the bearded maniac holding a gun in my mouth, I have no fucking idea.

O Brother, where art thou?

Friday, April 15. 2005
The line crackles then goes dead. I replace the receiver. Silence. Silence.

KC is far away from regular internet access. Just when I am too busy to post. I don't think I've got much to say anyway.

My brother Xiao Gou has told me that he has been preparing some stuff for here but there's only been radio silence since then.

I watched O Brother Where Art Thou? last weekend, and since then I've been on a gospel/traditiona/blues trip. Helen actually has the sound track, so I've been listening to that and praying for death.

I didn't want it to end like this.
It's the end of something I did not want to end


I once smacked KC in the head for regret, I believe he's mentioned it here before. I don't think I was doing the wrong thing. It's when you know you're doing the wrong thing that it's time for regret.

My latest sun is sinking fast my race is nearly run
Oh come angel band
Come and around me stand

Shout outs

Wednesday, April 13. 2005
We don't do this kind of thing here much but today is my brother's birthday. Xiao Gou, happy birthday to ya. Congrats on your new job too.

Actually, I've been talking to Xiao Gou for a while about getting him to post some stuff here, you know, diversity and all. Perhaps this will get him inspired.

Not much else to report. My sleep pattern has been fucked up lately.

Ring-a-ding-ding

Tuesday, April 12. 2005
Everyone's phones have been ringing in the office today. And although I've maintained silence about it before, I must speak out.

You all have the stupidest ringtones I've ever heard in my life. The only ringtone that tops them all is the dreaded Nokia default. I don't know how it came to be that some many people could have so many moronic ringtones and all be in the same office, and I don't want to. No more nursery rhymes, no more Christmas carols (in April!), no more annoying bloop blip bloop! Otherwise, you won't hear the next call you receive as your phone will be muffled by your anus.