25 December 2005

A Post on Thorn Tree

One post caught my attention recently, it's called Relationships on the road, it can be found under On Your Bike on lonelyplanet.com's forum.

I think it's interesting not only because my another job is cycle touring, but rather it asks several important questions which is the personal take on life, how you want it to be and what you're willing to sacrifice, etc. Well, you might also see other issues which might be equally important which I overlooked, in that case, just let me know.

The following is my reply to the original post, but I'm not quite satisfied with it, think there're something missing in it,

"Lifestyle, yes, you put it well, it's more than just a hobby.

I had similar concerns, at first I didn't allow feelings to mingle with my plans because I didn't want to live the kind of life that was not for me. But then I fell and then I thought I should follow my feelings instead of my plans. But then again, what are my true feelings? I don't know, that's the key, so I just let it be, if it's meant to be it will.

And it's about how one regards life, I can't really travel in other ways, just makes no sense to me. It's a delicate matter, when you're so sure that you love someone, probably some sacrifices will be made, maybe. It's curious that on the road I always see couples cycling together and I was the only one who was alone.

About relationships on the road, it's very difficult to say how long, I think it's a mutual thing, if the other one doesn't feel the same way, then it's over before one knows it. But I always manage to stay in touch because you never know what might turn out in the future, like buying lottries and even though you know that it's very likely that you're not going to win, but having that little excitement in life is good, adds some flavour to it."

19 December 2005

Bunch of Cards

I've just finished reading today's share of Don Quijote and decided that it was time that I wrote the Christmas cards which I bought over two weeks ago. Was thinking about writing them the day I bought them, but somehow reality just had that something that let me forgot about their existence, even though they were just within elbow's reach.

Anyway, so my elbow did reach out and grabbed that bunch. It was around 2330 and I was having this idea of finishing them within an hour or two, all with the same contents and exclamation marks, just changing the names like what you would do with your emails, yeah, I know, don't even try to deny, we're all the same buddy. But just as I elaborated my way into the fifth card, I knew something had gone horribly wrong because I wasn't following the template and the results are not excatly identical and, as a matter of fact, they don't even look close at all! Oh my, how come nothing ever works out just as I planned? The plight of man! Since Fate strikes down the strong man, everyone weep with me! Yeah.

So be it. At this point I was writing the card for Rebecca and it was not work at all, I was enjoying it, and I had this strange feeling around my neck and the whole body, the kind of feeling you have when you miss something or someone and it's mixed with a tinge of light sadness, nostalgia and the yearning that one day you'll see her again. Curiously, iTunes is playing Camas Vacias of Joaquín Sabina now. I do wonder sometimes does Party Shuffle really shuffle as it claims, or is it preprogrammed? When I finished the card I felt the warmth which is a really good feeling in a cold night like this, think I'm going to fix myself a cuppa which would make it even better.

16 December 2005

Ciudad de la furia y la muerte

I found an article (or parts of an article) written in Spanish on some torn parchments in the bottom of my pocket the other day. I was taken by surprise when I first saw it because it was entitled Ciudad de la furia y la muerte which means City of Rage and Death, then I thought it was rather interesting so out of curiosity I kept it in a safe place and thought that the existence of such coincidences would surely intrigue you.

Here I present it to you in its salvaged and translated form,

Dead, what a riveting word. I wonder how's it like when one's no more? Sometimes my feelings tells me that it doesn't make such a big difference being dead or alive, don't feel anything anyway nor worth a dime living like this. Would do the society a big favor by not consuming more food and breathing more air.

I know some people would definitely disagree with me, saying that how great life is, how big the world is. Life is only great when some things are not missing. I know what they would say, that I have no faith, well, maybe they're right, I don't know what's out there, out of the reach of the eyes. I don't know anything, I don't know why I'm alive.

I would really put an end to this life if there're no possibilities to be out there on the road (my last reason to survive, since Fortune has already turned her back on me), if I had to stay in this putrid water, with all these rubbish and frustrations around me, alone in this city of fear and rage. Nothing changes in the world with one miserable soul being dead.

Regrettably, even with weeks of working on them around the clock (hence the starvation and the doc), these are the few lines that I could make out, some of the handwritings are simply impossible to transcribe, they are torn just like the parchments themselves. Having said that, despite the lack of vital informations, we could rightfully suggest, from the handwritings and the physical tortures that the document had received, that the writer was in an extremely agitated psychological condition as these quoted words were being put down. According to the feedback from the lab using the Carbon-14 Dating technique, these universal lines were penned somewhere between 340 and 322 BC (this is Nobel Prize winning stuff, we've just proved that Spanish goes way back to 340 BC, so much eariler than the generally accepted and fallacious XI century), however, much to our dismay, the incognito writer's possible identity and whereabouts remain mysteries to this day.

12 December 2005

Death and the City of Fear

These days I've been waking up at around midday, actually I regained consciousness hours earlier, but couldn't find any good reasons to crawl out of warmth, nothing to look forward to outside, so I just lay there and in a confusing state I fell asleep again till hours later when I found out that it was already past twelve o'clock and the nasty taste in my mouth drove me finally out of my bed. I took a lengthy shower and sat before my computer to do my internet routine, then before I knew it it was already time for dinner. I bumped into her in the eating place, but I didn't say hi, just walked past through her, if she didn't want to see me or talk to me why should I bother humiliating myself? She wouldn't like it anyway.

Back home, I played Party Shuffle from the iBook and a song of Sarah McLachlan came soothingly out of the speaker. Under a hit of nostalgia I played all her songs and looked her up on the net. On one of the pages I came upon a story of a fan of her, Lisa Cammilleri. Of how the songs of Sarah helped her through the death of her dad and how she wanted to meet her. She almost did because there was a greeting backstage set up for her to meet Sarah, but she died last year before the concert.

Her story reminded me of why I became a fan of Sarah in the first place. I looked at photos of Lisa and then I thought about the oh so meaningful half-life that I was leading. Then all of a sudden the music went back to my ears and it was "Hold On" that was playing. Stirred up by her voice, I couldn't stop my eyes from turning red thinking about all this, thinking about the time when I could still sit down and appreciate songs and every details without haste and that there was magic and wonder in the world and that I was feeling something. Well, I do am now, but I fear that very soon I would get back to the state of apathy.

The other day in the library I came upon a phrase which I loved so much that I wrote it down, all the world's great have been little boys who wanted the moon; running and climbing, they sometimes caught a firefly. But if that mind grows to a man's mind, that mind must see that it cannot have the moon and would not want it if it could - and so it catches no fireflies.

08 December 2005

Eye of the Beholder

I remember a month ago a friend told me that someone said that I told him that everynight I had to stand for like half an hour in my room, contemplating what I was going to eat. The fact is, I told this someone that everynight I had to think for like 10 minutes what I was going to eat because I've been living here for such a long time and I'm sick of the local food. Then a week ago another friend told me that someone said that I told him that everynight I had to stand for like an hour in my room, motionless, contemplating what I was going to eat. The fact is, I told this someone that everynight I had to think for like 30 minutes what I was going to eat because I've been living here for such a long time and I'm sick of the local food. Then a couple of days ago yet another friend told me that someone said that I told him that everynight I had to stand for like hours in my room, motionless, contemplating gloomily what I was going to eat. The fact is, I told this someone that everynight I had to think for like an hour what I was going to eat because I've been living here for such a long time and I'm sick of the local food. Then yesterday a friend also told me that someone said that I told him that everynight I spent the whole night like standing in my room, motionless, lamenting silent and gloomily over the sad, still shadow floating on the floor trying to figure out what I was going to eat. The fact is, I told this someone that everynight I had to think for like hours what I was going to eat because I've been living here for such a long time and I'm sick of the local food. Then today I woke up and I remembered that I spent the whole day everyday standing in my room, motionless, lamenting silent and gloomily over the sad, still shadow floating on the grey floor trying to figure out what I was going to eat since last month and then I died.

03 December 2005


I stood by the rear door of the last wagon of the train that speeded back to the uni today, it was the first thing I did after I hurriedly finished my lunch after I went out to save my fellow countrymen. I've never been a big fan of train rides because I'm always sitting next to some bloody bastards instead of some pretty chicks. And no surprisingly, it was the same today, so out of deep, profound disgust and sorrow I just abandoned the seat the moment I pushed the door open. So there I was, standing by the rear door which was in fact just a steel bar and a chain. The train moved, it picked up its speed quickly, winds ran through me, I saw things receding at high speed and then I experienced a strange feeling. It was the same feeling I had when my old man waved goodbye when my mom took me to the train station.

Leaning on the steel bar I saw with fastly fading away images the place which was my home. And I didn't like what I was doing, a blitzkrieg with my folks being the target. I know it's hard for them to accept that their son should be so different. I know what they want, they want me to be respected, to have no economical problems, to be decent. But the discrepancy between us is so big that there is no common ground for communication and that's what leads to the current situacion. It is hard for everybody. I don't like it when they are complaining about me and talking about politics while my life and my love life, if you could call it love life, are disasters. But at that moment when I was seeing things disppearing I couldn't swear like I used to.

02 December 2005

Good Day, Sir!

My old man gave me the order to go back home to vote, Taiwan is sinking for god's sake, well that's more or less what he said, but to be honest with ya, I don't even know who the candidates are. But I guess I'll go home anyway, to save my ass from receiving more fireballs of complains and lectures, but when he sees my hair there's gonna be some more screeching their way down this way. Then it's about how I should behave myself, how I should talk, how I should dress, what I should eat, what I should do and what I shouldn't and so on and so on and it goes on and on. Hah! What a joke. Just vote that guy, he's his friend, alright. That's the easy way.

You know I'm sick, yeah I mean it literally, I'm starving but I have no appetite. Oh, it's one bloody painful way to die. I went to the doc and I'm on medication. And I'm jealous, I've turned into a green eyed monster, I envy those guys who are so sure of what they want and of their beliefs, I envy those who have a theory about everything, I envy those who always seem so rational and happy and carefree and party after party and never gets tired, I envy them because at least they still have something, even if they're not. I don't have nothing and I ain't nothing. My life is a big nothing, it came from it and it returns to it. And I should bear this nothingness between the two nothingnesses that perch on both extremes which are occupied by nothingnesses which will eventually render into nothing. Maybe I should go read The Unbearable Lightness of Being, don't have the slightest idea of what's it about, but the title sounds good to me anyway. However, it could be about things very different from what I'm thinking about, titles tend to be quite misleading these days you know.

Yesterday I met a guy from my department in the campus, oh he was a pretty pleasant guy, very nice fellow. During the whole conversation he's got this shine in his eyes saying, "you are my hero" Lots poeple also think that way. Why? Because I'm good at what I'm doing, a high ranking bookworm, and I'm different, they think me cool and they think me funny. But tell you the truth, I'm not too much different from the lot. But, well, after a second thought, maybe I am, let's have a look: I'm worse, I'm sick, I'm doomed, I'm fucked, whatever you like, I'm all by myself, yeah, I'm different. How comforting is that.

It's good to be ignorant, ignorant is bliss after all. No troubles of mind whatsoever at all. You do what you're told and you'll get your candy. What more do you want? Huh? Oh, make me one of the drones that roam the streets, oh make me a Borg, suck the emotions and thinkings out of me, I ain't want it, they're yours to take, if you claim one I'll give you another one for free.

I still can't figure out why and how one can inflict such a big damage upon the other by simply not doing anything. How can someone who is seemingly mentally strong be so weak? It is a strange thing. The star of tomorrow! Hah! How to kill the time when nothing excites you? How to kill the starvation when you have no appetite? Oh, well, I think I've watched too much Al Pacino movies, what can I do? He's my favorite actor, and it's really good the way he shouts in them, makes you want to yell the way he does, yeah. Well guys, it's been fun, but I'd better run, am going to put some drugs into my blood and fight my way into the train that goes home, and save the future of my fellow countrymen.