He died yesterday, unexpectedly. I got the text while I was in Ximending yesterday. It was just a fact. I stared at the message for a few seconds, then went back to what I was doing. I later mentioned it to someone and even laughed during that exchange. I mean, not heartily. Ironically, maybe.

It wasn't like Ritu, who I wouldn't have expected the news to have such an impact on me, but I broke down at work for a good 20-25 minutes, and my cube neighbor assisted me out the building to compose myself before I had to break the news to the rest of Ritu's team.

But this guy was still an acquaintance. He was a person who had been in my physical presence in the recent past. I have actual images of him alive in my recent memory. It's hard not to give it a little thought, a little consideration. Even on a ride last night after work to Keelung, I thought about him.

Prior to this, the last I heard about him was after our last gig at Le Mer. He invested a lot of money into Le Mer, and he had a falling out with the proprietress, the actual owner. They got in an argument that led to her calling up some gangsters who subsequently put him in the hospital. What he could have done to warrant such a response can only be speculated upon, but the suggestion was floated that it wasn't beyond conception that he hit her.

She threatened that if he called the police, he could kiss his entire investment in Le Mer goodbye. His eventual liver failure might be related to the beating, but he did leave the hospital after that.

In the whole time I was aware of him, I wonder if he thought he might die this year. When 2008 came around, did he think he might die this year? When he came to Taiwan, did he think he might die here? Wherever he was, whoever he was with, did he think he might die here, now, in this way?

Maybe, maybe not. Who asks that sort of question, though, anyway, aside from me?

Riding to Keelung was pretty glorious last night. It was exciting because it was completely out of the territory that I'd already covered in the greater Taipei area. It was exciting because Keelung is a port of old, so it has a sort of mystique, the way Hong Kong has. It was barely 14 hours after he died, and I was savoring my being, my existence at Keelung Harbor with a sliver of the waning crescent moon linger over the docked ships.

2:54 a.m. - Keelung.

3:12-3:13 a.m. - Keelung Harbor.

3:25 a.m. - Maybe come back during daylight hours to shoot?

 3:36 a.m.:
Tunnel in Keelung.

This was on my way out of Keelung, heading back to Taipei as I realized it was getting a bit late. I was able to explore a little and see where I want to go when I come back to shoot.

I received a text yesterday informing me that an acquaintance of the band was dying. He was the booker at a place called "Le Mer", up on Taiwan's north coast, where we played a bunch of times from April to June.

I didn't have a relationship with him. I actually thought him an asshole. I never had a conversation with him, and one time he didn't even recognize me. We all have that with some people, no chemistry, it's just like that. And thinking him an asshole is not a judgment, just my experience with him. He may be a totally decent guy. Or he might really be an asswipe.

Apparently, his "liver shut down". I heard it was manifest by his skin color changing to some unnatural shade of yellow. He went to the hospital and they don't expect him to live past 7 to 10 days.

I've cut down on drinking in a major way this past month. Since when I last mentioned it, although I did end up washing that shot glass within the week. I also finished off that bottle of vodka after a week to celebrate, and since then I've been nursing a single bottle of whiskey.

It's been easy not drinking. I just think about how "bad" it makes me feel. And when I finished off that bottle of vodka, I felt "bad". I decided I don't want to drink myself to death. I don't want to sabotage my liver and find my skin changing color as evidence that something is seriously wrong.

And this guy was probably 10 years my senior, and, good lord, thinking of living another 10 years is unthinkable. I have to step up to the plate. If I want to die, I want to be proactive about it. My decision, my direct action. None of this namby-pamby constant drinking hoping my liver will grow to the size of a small boat and give out one day.

I don't know how this guy feels having been given a death sentence. My first thought was that he was cool with it, accepted it as the natural consequence of how he lived his life. But who knows? Maybe he bawled like a baby. Maybe he never considered death as a natural consequence of abusing his liver.

I try to visualize what I would do if I was given 7 to 10 days to live. I would be overjoyed. I would be so happy to be in the home stretch, and I would appreciate every breath like I never appreciated one before. Unless I was being kept alive by a machine, and then I'd tell them to unplug it, fuckall.

I wonder if I'm being callous about the news of this guy's death. I had moments of profound reflection after I got the text. As an asshole, I should have no aversion to extending compassion and sympathy towards him. Just as if he were a loved one, I would want to cultivate non-attachment.

Working at a newspaper, I read a lot of reports of people dying. I try not to be jaded, and I try to remember those who are reported dying. For those with names, I try to recall their names during sitting, as dedication, as recognition, as calling them, their energy, to the teachings, to prayer. There's no reason I shouldn't do the same with this person.

MONDAY, AUGUST 25, 2:32 a.m. - Guangdu Temple, night riding.

AUGUST 27, 3:45 p.m.

I'm tired of not being known. I'm tired of going through my life like it's a music video. I'm bored with floating through existence persona non grata. I'm glad being a low-impact soul. Low carbon footprint. But I'm also feeling the need to move on somehow. I'm not just a camera. Not even a camera, just the lens.

Having reached the age that I have, I now see the benefits of having lived this long. I'm no longer confounded about living as long as I have, although I won't go so far as to say that if I had died earlier, I would have regretted it. Just that I appreciate having lived as long as I have. Which I guess I could say at any age.

But having lived this long, I was fortunate to come upon important teachings, which I think are the pinnacle of teachings for me. I'm fortunate to understand the need for cultivation and transformation. That what is most important is how we handle this exact moment, and that we live it according to our principles, and that our principles are mindful.

Ironically, the teachings are on death, and that what we might aim for in those teachings on death are no different on how we should be living our life. Life and death are not only a circular continuum, but the goals in each are the same, if not one and the same. Preparing for death is living mindfully, cultivating and transforming.

Not that I'm good at it. But being good at it is not the point of it.

I think I've reached a point of clarity with suicide that makes me think that I never was truly suicidal before. Something was always missing. Maybe in people who succeed, it's a point of nihilism, and I don't believe in nihilism. But that's just it. And that's just it.

I've never been able to accept nihilism, and that's why I've never been truly suicidal. Spiritually, I don't think nihilism is right. But I think I can get past it now. I don't have to accept nihilism, but I need to take on its attributes to get past this.

It's really so obvious. It's not not caring, it's just getting past that to move on. It's so obvious now that I never achieved being truly suicidal. I was still too attached, too many stupid things still mattered.

I have a job now. So one day I don't show up. It's not my issue, it's theirs. It's their being mired in the mechanics of mundane existence. I'm in a band, one week I don't show up. What can you do? Life is like that. I could have been just as easily hit by a bus. My stuff? Someone will deal with it, other lives will go on. Family? What did they ever know of me? I'm tired of not being known, and going on like this, I will never be known.

Suicide is becoming my last form of expression. It's the only thing I want to express. The only thing I want anyone else to know about me is that I committed suicide. I'm tired of not being known, but what would I want anyone to know?

It doesn't matter if anyone knows I'm a drummer. Or cyclist. Or runner. Or photographer. Or that I play guitar and shakuhachi, too. That I went to law school and have a master's. That I've been to Burmese refugee camps on the Thai-Burma border, and that I've given an intervention at the U.N.'s Sub-Commission on Human Rights in Geneva. That I played in a steel drum band on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House (those sound impressive, but they were no big deal). Both superficial and dear identifiers of who I am don't matter. Who are you?

Who was he?

He committed suicide.

That's all that I want anyone to know about me. If work hears that I committed suicide, they will know all I want them to know about me. Not that I give a crap about the band, but they, too, will know all I would want them to know about me. Same with family. It's the only thing I want to express about my identity. It doesn't matter if they don't understand it or don't take it as expression. From my point of view, it is expression. I'm tired of not being known.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 19, 5:24 p.m - Civic Blvd.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 21, 3:49 p.m. - Liberty Island, NYC.

La Maison de Himiko (Japan, 2005)
Rating: 7 out of 10

The problem with this film about a gay retirement community in Japan, featuring mostly gay characters, with gay issues is . . . the movie is just not gay! It's ponderous and heavy. Gayness tries to peep through once in a while, but those moments feel uncomfortably out of place. When I saw the main character smile, it felt so out of character. They also feel like they're leading to some breakthrough or catharsis, but they don't. It's all back to heavy.

The film is about a girl whose father left her and her mother after coming out that he was gay, to live in hedonistic ribaldry of the gay community. Which is what I suppose all gay people do. The ensuing family struggle leaves the girl inconsolably bitter, so when she is contacted many, many years later and told that her father is dying, she couldn't care less. But when offered to be paid good money to come work part-time at the gay retirement community her father set up, she can't resist. She's deep in debt, which she also blames on him.

It's a watchable film. The acting is fairly excellent, the story holds its own, it's just not . . . gay. And the father isn't even dying of a gay-related illness (thank god, that would be more cliche than living in hedonistic ribaldry, but which might have justified the heaviness).

The characters are fairly well-defined, but none all that endearing, especially the female lead, who hangs onto her tightly-wound bitterness and anger to the end. So what's the point of the film?

The most pitiful parting is one where there is not even a "good-bye". How can you leave so little of an impression, so little of a mark, that when you leave, they/he/she don't even say "good-bye".



檸檬のころ (Lemon no Koro) (Japan, 2007)
English title: The Graduates; Chinese title: 青檸檬的時節 (Green Lemon Season)
Rating: 8 out of 10

I picked up the DVD to this Japanese high school film on a total whim at Blockbusters. I'd never heard of it, and I don't even recall whether it got a theatrical release in Taiwan last year. I don't know what the Japanese title means since I haven't seen the characters, but the English and Chinese translated title give a clue about the film. Senior year in high school is a time before ripening, still green on the vine.

I must say, skeptical at first, I ended up really liking this light-weight, pastoral film about an innocent time of life, set in the boondocks of Japan. Nothing big happens in the film, it's just a simple film, very well done, about high school kids about to graduate.

Out of the five main characters seemingly featured, I think the focus is on the two girls, the paths they're tracing in their final year of high school, and their interaction with the two boys they're interested in. I don't know why the third guy, the fifth character, is even featured, he's really a minor character – a fifth wheel.

One girl, Kayoko Akimoto, is the Japanese equivalent of the "homecoming queen" – she has it all, good looks, smart, dates the jock. The jock is a boor – loud, obnoxious, not-so-smart, unrefined. That's in Japanese terms. In American terms, the guy is Clark Gable. And the homecoming queen in Japan is humble, demure, compassionate.

The other girl, Kei Shirata, is kind of an underdog on the fringes. Not popular, wants to be a rock critic, loves rock and roll. She falls in love with the broody, loner, rock guy. She seems kind of detached, disaffected and aloof until her emotions well up, and then she becomes a squawking babbler – very cute. In fact, I think the actress, 16- or 17-year-old-at-the-time Mitsuki Tanimura, is absolutely remarkable. She's the revelation in this film as the range of emotions she portrays using her voice, her eyes, her body language, her face is something to behold.

This genre of Japanese film is very subtle. Emotions are muted and you have to interpret the culture to know what characters are thinking or feeling. The subtlety of the film unfortunately extends to the minor characters, who if you don't really pay attention to who they are, you have no idea why they're there. They're part of the subtlety, the background, the real life. And really, that's why I watch and love film – for the slices of the real richness in life that if some filmmaker didn't put in front of a lens, might go unnoticed. Film as life distilled to an essence, and I think this film captures a bit of it really well.

August 11-18

MONDAY, AUGUST 11, 4:31 p.m. - Amusing myself with my own caption. I added the "mentally prepares herself". At the start of shifts we review the day's paper (previous night's work) for mistakes.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 12, 2:41-2:57 a.m. - Shilin District. Getting home after midnight, I gear up and head out for night rides.

4:44 p.m.

Taida campus

AUGUST 18, 3:58 a.m. - Night riding. Rte. 110 in Taipei County.

5:05 a.m. - Arriving in Xinyi District at daybreak.

 3:16 a.m.:

Crossing the Dahan River at night on Rte. 116.

"They say that when you meet the love of your life, time stops." - Ed Bloom (older), Big Fish

For me, time only stopped for one person. Only one person I remember perfectly vividly the first time I laid eyes on her. Only one person made such an impression that she was seared into my memory. I remember what she was wearing, the length of her hair, the direction she was walking, where we were, and the very specific words that crossed my mind, "...most beautiful woman I've ever seen". I'd call that time stopping.

Josephine, I can probably pinpoint pretty close to the day I met her, but only because we met during a Summer semester in Thailand, and that arrival had a definite date that I probably have recorded in black & white archives. But no recollection of an exact moment.

Shiho, I should. I saw her picture in my brother's yearbook before I went to that school and met her. I was into all things Japanese at that time, and still no recollection of when I first met her. Time definitely didn't stand still. Not until years later, at least, when she left. And I had already met her, so that doesn't count. Time stopped for a different reason.

Hiromi, I'm surprised I don't remember since I'm sure I thought she was gorgeous the moment I saw her. But truth to tell, I see a lot of people I think are gorgeous the moment I see them, and time doesn't stop. And time didn't stop for Hiromi. She did have her other significant impact, though, which is if I could go back and re-live a period of my life, it would probably be the semester with her, when dear friend Amina was in Dublin.

Nope, and no one else. So what was that and what happened? Just plain stupidity maybe. I think Amina would love that movie, too, with its treatment of narrative and multiple layers. But that was a long time ago, what do I know about her now? I think I'm gonna hunt down the DVD at Blockbusters so I can see it without commercials. I remember when the film came out, I wanted to see it because it looked interesting and very different from Tim Burton's other films, and it used Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill" in the trailer. But I think 2 other films at that time also were using it, and that kinda ruined it.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 6, 2:30 p.m.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 7, 3:02 a.m. - Maishuai Bridge #1. Night riding.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 8 - Pentax ZX-5n, Ilford XP2 Super.

Nanjing E. Rd., Sec. 5 looking east.

The Wall-Passer (穿牆人) (Taiwan, 2007)
Rating: 8 out of 10 tomatoes

This is a local Taiwanese film. In the U.S., we would call it a foreign film, or an art film, maybe even an indie film. It's hard to rate local films like this because of the risks it takes. It's hard to tell if it's amateurish, totally artsy-fartsy or totally brilliant. It's a film that can be easily underestimated, misinterpreted or overly read-into. I've seen the film described as "fantasy" or "sci-fi", and I don't think it's either. Spanish-style "magical realism" may be more apt. Definitely surreal.

I don't think the film is about anything. There are the paths the characters take, but the elements aren't supposed to mean anything. A lot of Taiwanese film has a certain characteristic, and I think this film fits right in. It's about impression and senses, and not about what's going on; a lot of which is mysterious or doesn't make sense. What appears to be going on isn't that important than the visual experience.

If there is a plot, it's about a high school boy, some time in the near-future, whose family leaves their earthquake-flattened city to go to "Real City", which a thinly-disguised greater-Taipei area stands in for (several local landmarks and elements are in the film). His parents don't pay attention to him, but still try to push him along his young adult path. As a "newcomer", he doesn't fit into too well at school. None of this matters, by the way.

On a school field trip, he meets a hearing-impaired museum worker and falls in love, and they do a little waltz. They mysteriously talk about her "leaving", and then, in fact, she disappears halfway through the film, leaving him searching for her.

The title of the film refers to the boy's ability, with the help of a mysterious rock he finds that fell from the sky in a mysterious rock shower on said field trip, to pass through walls. The ability morphs in the second half of the film to be able to pass through dimensions to another "world", where he meets a visually-impaired girl with whom he does a little waltz.

There are a lot of experimental, interesting, intriguing elements in the film and the filmmaking (such as integrating a film projected backdrop with a "live-action" foreground), enough for me to really like it. A lot of it may come across as pretentious and leave viewers scratching their heads, so it's definitely a film that needs to be viewed with patience and an open mind, and I still couldn't guess who would like the film or not. The trailer in the link is an astounding 5 minutes long. There is a shorter version, but even the 5 minute version I don't think really gets to what's going on in the film.



Summer's Tail 夏天的尾巴 (Taiwan, 2007)
Rating: 4 out of 10 tomatoes.

OK, here's my proof for myself that I can spot a bad Taiwanese indie film when I see one.

"Summer's Tail", a weak play on words, as the main character's cat is named "Summer", and, you know, cats have tails, and this tale is supposed to be during the Summer, geddit?, is about a girl with some heart problem so she was taken out of school, but she's like this brilliant "indie" songwriter and the whole school supports her and cheers for her in a very Chinese mob-mentality way. She's also got this really good heart because she tries to help out some poor neighboring children who are abused by their father. Deep.

I dunno, it was tedious. The film came across to me as self-congratulatory and as trying too hard to be young and cool, but turns out amateurish.

Yea, well, OK, perhaps a proclamation of an aspiration to die was pretty lame, I realize, since I'm still pretty unclear on the concept of death. We have life and we have death, and I say I have no problem with life, and I say I'm aspiring to death, but then remember my problem is not with life and living, but with existence.

Juxtapose existence and death, and then I wonder if I know what the hell I'm talking about. I went for a run the other night after work, trying just to focus on the experience of existence and fit the pieces together with the puzzle of death.

My experience of existence is all I know. I'm steeped in it, I'm marinating in it. There is nothing objective about existence as I move through it, and everything around me is my existence. So what is this thing death? What is this thing where this existence doesn't exist?

My consciousness is the center of my existence. The world revolves around my consciousness, even though the whole experience is my existence. As my arms swung and legs strode, I thought about the "existence" of my body as a whole, all its parts. They, too, exist, as does my consciousness. Then I got the weird thought about how can my consciousness alone decide on the existence of all my body parts?

My consciousness says I aspire towards death, but what do my feet have to say about it? Knees? Liver? Blood? I don't know if the idea is really translating into words, but it did remind me of something in Tibetan Buddhism which mentions that gods or deities "live in our body". I didn't really buy it, because it was in the context of condemning suicide, because committing suicide kills these deities, blah, blah, blah, and I was like "whatever".

I must say, though, that my thought, having originated in me, did make that thing in Tibetan Buddhism resonate. Not that I believe deities live in my body parts or that committing suicide kills them and is therefore an inexpiable sin, but . . .what that is talking about is the same thing that crossed my mind in that running meditation.

I'm still having sleeping problems, still trying to come up with new methods to deal with it. It's like rotating frequencies to deal with the Borg. I stopped drinking coffee, and I'm finally going to see if I can stop drinking, see if that has anything to do with it.

If my unconscious is trying to tell me to break habits, well, drinking is a habit. So I haven't drunk anything in almost 48 hours, doesn't sound like much, but . . . nevermind. I'm leaving the bottle and the last shot glass I used where I left them until I say 'fuck it', or I realize I'm stopping for the duration. I won't ever say I'm stopping for good.