To Trim Perceptions

        #         The Airborne Toxic Event’s performance was a lot of fun.  It was festive and entertaining, and each and every one of them is very talented.  I don’t especially like their music, but they made me wanted to be a part of the event.  Kind of like a day trip to Disneyland.  Bumping cars and roller coasters, not to forget the handshakes and the parades; a perfect day of happiness offered in shinny wrappers.          #          I absolutely have to learn more about Spiritualized.   I’ve paid so little effort to discover new music that I didn’t even know this great band.           They never shouted or interacted with the audience; obscure in dimmed illumination the pure force of their music overtook me. The instruments was beautiful.  Everything about them implies more.         # Allen Stone is either a born performer or indulged with overflowing love.   At the end of Is This Love he looked like he was about to cry.    I couldn’t help jumping and d

Best things that happened to me today: Palma Violets, Of Monsters and Men, and Blur.         Wasn’t I supposed to be studying?          Right.         #         I never realized until today how good they’ve been to me.  I’ve taken so many people’s trust and appreciation for granted.  They listen, and think, even when I act like a willful child.          I remember on a quiet afternoon with Pan – it’s one of the few conversations we shared alone – I confided that I was far less than what people assumed.  The way they listened and talked to me frustrated me; I couldn’t begin to explain to them my fear.  For the first time someone believed; he understood.  I was the same, he said.  I was so thankful.         #         Received a postcard.  A car submerged in pitch dark road, headlights seeking forward.  At night in the country, senses seem to be reduced to smell.  The smell of fertilizer.  Of stagnant water.  Of breezes traveled through grass.  Of empty space.       

Swallows swarm and swerve the air like summer flies 1 the Night Heron prefers to stroll and shoplift in daylight we at times exchange gossip now he knows more than apt. 2 What if I tumble down the muddy slope? Dumb, and rumple eventually must crumble. The grey metallic streams placate beats drum to pacific sea ‘cause the insatiable decay stinks very below much like how death and torture take place in another world. 3 Run until my knees shattered thighbones bleached and hallowed. I run The pavement mummified Fade to light. 4 Somehow I expect a stone to roll but moss climbs my legs rooted, the grounds tilt downward heavens creep behind moisture. The cockroach crawling unending one third. Nay, it’s nigh the end is forward. 5 I keep running Leaping outward. May the leaves yellow and brown the smell of goats and cows immortal excrement as old as books. I will keep running Until my body victorious

So I leave today.                 I leave this county, who kindly accommodates loitering cats and dogs, and equally pacified humans; where I came to settle my restlessness, and return Myself.           Particularly agitated last night, I couldn’t fall asleep.  Thoughts flushed open the gates of mind, and flooded the room.  I was to return to the bizarre and somber city, where the only responsibility was to excel – it felt like Last Night on Earth.         I sit on the windowsill and let the chilled air nibble on my fingers.  I emptied the room with theological conundrums, and filled the frigid air with the voice of a trusty friend.  I didn’t realize, but the hollow night already scented like Taipei.                 Looking out the train window this instant, the mountains and rice fields seem content enough.  So I leave with this: I will always have faith, in the leafy path to the seashore.          And childishly but adamantly (at least for a while):         I m

Everyone she had known as a child was dead.         Thea lay on the grass, and suddenly realized.  The thought jumped her, at this perfectly ordinary moment.  She quickly fell into nostalgia.         She conjured the smell of smoke and alcohol, the blurred sound of laughter, and the sense of security they created for her.  She couldn’t recount much, but she could feel everything.  It’s all burned into the core of her childhood.  The men and women who had came and went; who debated and drunk passionately, either art or nonsense.  To a child it had been more than enough; she sat in the circles and listened quietly; she possessed them all.          Some of them disgust her, the drunken fist fights and distasteful manners had made her wince.  But some of them were beautiful and elegant.  Every one of them lived a characteristic life, and no one had bored her.          They respected her innocence, though maybe some of them simply ignored her.         It had been a colorful

She was assigned  my other half.  After exchanging a plastic cup of milk tea, we were to become as close as lovers.         But not even now can I understand her.         She is slender; long straight hair tensely falls beside her face.  She talks with an awkward excitement, letting syllables slip quickly through her lips, and hangs the end of every sentence in the air with an inquiring gaze.  Her language is foreign to me, but in the fragments of sentiment that flow across, I sense her emotions run, wild and ferocious.          Weren't we supposed to be science people ?         I knew myself to be different in many respects – but she bewildered even me.         She calls herself by the obscure name of an ancient Greek goddess.  In her veins flow the thickest and deepest colored blood I’ve ever come to known; she reads heartbreaking poems, let them bleed her, and believes in them; She writes love stories, in which people love and despair intensely; Baudelaire

         There is a primal fear that emerges when you walk alone by the sea, and watch the tides come in.           You watch the waves born and grow; they charge, in the most imposing fashion.  Each one stronger than the last.  It’s majestic, most undeniable.  You watch the water steals away sands beneath your steps, it leaves behind bubbles between your toes.  You feel the torrent.         You try to suppress the deeply rooted fear, resisting instinct with reason.  But then you stop.  Standing still, you look up and face the boundless ocean.  The Pacific Ocean.  You let the fear overcome you. Then you remember.  This is when the sea put its enchantment on you.  This is when you love it most whole-heartedly. Suddenly, an extraordinarily fierce wave washes in, you jump up and run toward the land, but it quickly catches up, and drenches your pants.  You run, barefoot on the stones, until one stone catches your eye.  You pick it up, feeling like a child again.

The temperature suddenly dropped today.  It spoiled our plan to go swimming.  There’s a swimming pool just 10 minutes away, which is supplied with underground water that rises and falls seasonally.          We went to the coast yesterday, me and Crystal.  The tide was coming in, I sit on a rock amid rising water.  Waves clash around me, they bounce to my chin, and I felt like an island.         At dusk I was already drowsy.  I’m really quite weak.  Two hours of excitement would render the whole day faint.  In this respect I’m like a five year old.  My entire body tenses for a task of fingers.         Bicycled through Pipa Lake to the shore this morning.  Returned in drenched clothes just in time to help wrap the zongzis.  Maybe I’ll go swimming later in the day.

I started the day with a dreamy content. Awoke by warm sunlight and the sound of water, splashing on leaves, I hesitantly got up from the mat, and wandered downstairs.  My uncle, who has always been a stubborn early riser, was bustling about in the front yard.  I pushed open the heavy front door, lingering in a state of wonder.  His figure, brisk in the morning sun, is more lively and animated than ever.  “Ah, you’re up!” he greeted me, while going on about his chores, “are the others awake?” No, the house was still slumbering in silence.  Such a lovely and peaceful silence, that cuddled this spirited yard.  Conjoined, they lit up each particle in the air, and filled my prospect with cheerful tunes of whistle. Yesterday I was a city girl in Taipei, shadowed by the whiff of melancholy dwelled in the dewy air.  Today I stood bare in bright sunshine, amazed, but more surprised, by the limitless azure extended to the end of my sight.  A world for living, not contemplatio