Molloy again
Having just finished the second part of Molloy, I regard those pages as one of the most joyful encounters of my life.
The typhoon having subsided, I shall make my way to the Taipei 101 and purchase another Beckett work.
Q: The book, the author…
Leo and Alasdair will know this one instantly, but for the rest of you...
"And in winter, under my greatcoat, I wrapped myself in swathes of newspaper, and did not shed them until the earth awoke, for good, in April. The Times Literary Supplement was admirably adapted to this purpose, of a neverfailing toughness and impermeability. Even farts made no impression on it. I can't help it, gas escapes from my fundament on the least pretext, it's hard not to mention it now and then, however great my distaste. One day I counted them. Three hundred and fifteen farts in nineteen hours, or an average of over sixteen farts an hour. After all, it's not excessive. Four farts every fifteen minutes. It's nothing. Not even one fart every four minutes. It's unbelievable. Damn it, I hardly fart at all, I should never have mentioned it."
The language barrier
I appreciated Leo's poem in response to the typhoon post, the never-to-be-revisited typhoon post.
Thing is, there are a dearth of characters here, on account of the language barrier. That is, clearly, the characters are out there, but I can't hear what they're saying and, so far, I am not able to speculate on why people are as they are in Taiwan.
Recently, just two characters have cropped up, firstly, the man in Hong Kong who showed me to Times Square. He walked very fast and kept pointing out the traffic lights - "Man green you walk" - and then again, a second later, "Man green go..." as if I had never encountered traffic lights before.
The other character was in the electronics store where I bought a Bose-copy docking station for the new nano. When I challenged him about the high price of one item, he immediately responded by thrusting the stereo in my face and yelling , "Budee ass a crock..."
Budee ass a crock?
I looked at the numbers showing the time. Aaaaaaaaah...
But it has a clock...
I waved my watch at him. We moved on.
Meagre pickings amigos, amigas y el resto.
***
Clearly, the solution to this is learn the bloody language - I am about to commence Chinese studies, don't fear.
In the future, perhaps I can post here in Mandarin and haemorrhage away the last of the BookArmor faithful.
"Guy can dream, can't he?"
Life is all about death
No more David Foster Wallace.
Here is a great article he wrote on Roger Federer in 2006.
My first typhoon
It is not just in England that the weather puts paid to outdoor pursuits come holiday time. This weekend sees the Autumn Moon Festival take place in Taiwan, a time when the end of summer is marked with families partaking in seasonal dishes, moon cakes and barbecues.
Instead, much of Northern Taiwan is under a typhoon warning (Typhoon Sinlaku) and the weather outside is inhospitable to all but ducks. And fish. Across the river, the visibility reaches zero, hiding the hillside tower blocks, while the river itself has burst its banks as the second day of heavy rain continues.
There is no reason to venture further than the Family Mart next door and nothing to anticipate more exciting than seizing the ping pong paddles and joining battle in the games room.
Overkill from the great Creator…
I was on a bus yesterday to Neihu ("I'm on a road to Neihu / come on inside...")
Anyway, at one point, I thought, "Got to get a landmark in my head for when I do this journey alone," look away to the left and what do I see?
I see a half of a giant yellow fibreglass dog emerging from the top of a building, its paws slung playfully over the apex of the roof.
Overkill from the great Creator.
Q: What is Kevin Thompson for?
I saw this, of all things, in the South China Morning Post, flying back from Hong Kong to Taiwan.
Kevin Thompson just keeps going, receiving awards, giving speeches, stockpiling massive amounts of $$$ and driving sports cars.
For those not in the know, Kevin Thompson was the tangerine-coloured principal at Dartington College of Arts during my time there.
Still not totally clear on what his actual work involves (other than the tasks listed above)...
Can’t resist posting…
Most unlikely place I've posted to BookArmor from... I am in the Admiralty MTR Station in Hong Kong using a free internet terminal.
Hong Kong is the future if the future involves being trapped behind pedestrians text messaging / browsing the web / buying/selling shares.
So, I haven't just seen the future, I've been stuck behind it.
Extremely cruel marketing (needs a rethink) from the hotel - opening the paper box reveals a paper pizza to go with the paper pint. Not what a person needs at the end of a long trek to their final destination.
All that was missing were some paper fags (and a paper lighter and ashtray).
Heavy consumerism delivers its message of heavy consumerism.