The Information Age opened the door to Knowledge, and then Social Media unleashed the power of Ignorance

Cat's Life

The problem with wanting to live like a cat is -- you are not a cat, after all.

Same goes for every role model.

When some thing is idealized, it becomes just that -- an idea. The act of idealization renders the animal -- or any role model -- two dimensional, like making a stamp, carving out all the complexity and unpleasant peculiarities of a cat's life to one or a couple of ideas that incidentally appeal to you.

Just try licking yourself as a replacement for that hot bath after work next time.

Roller coaster

Woke up at 5 in the morning. Couldn't sleep.

The air was damp and cold with the latecomer vengeance of an autumn.  I sat down before the desk, and wrote this on an empty page:

IT’S HARD TO STAND STILL,

TO WALK ALONE,

TO BE ON YOUR OWN.

Like a rolling stone?

Thanks for nothing, Dylan.

The Beginning (and End) of Civilization, and Global Warming

Here I am, typing briskly on the laptop, sweating profusely, and all of a sudden,  words slips through my mind, the picture I tried to paint blurred by the saline liquid, everything muddled.

If the productivity of one person is calculated by his monthly output times 12, we should start cutting the factor by 2, maybe 3, from now on, because in the ever rising heat of the summer, nothing is reasonably supposed to be produced. Nothing at all.

I wondered aloud in "Bozos with Big Guns"(, or more accurately, the author wondered in "Guns, Germs, and Steel") why Europeans instead of New Guineans ruled the world today. The reason should be clear by now, if not among the best and brightest scientists ever touring from one weather convention to the next, at least to the heatstroke victims in those sub-tropical/semi-tropical/bona-fide-tropical nations, which practically means their entire populations, all over the world.

If the Spaniards cheated the hell out of the Mayans and acquired civilization superiority, that's because Spanish is higher in latitude than the aboriginal empires. With global warming creeping up, you needed to go further north to keep yourselves cool-headed, and that's how the French, the British, and the Germans kicked the Spaniards down from the top of the ranking system.

And you can easily see where the trends go, just take a peek at the latest score cards like World Happiness Index or Competitive Report, and the Nordic countries are really beating the sxxt out of the Brits and the Yankees.

Got it? The greenhouse may have created life, but it's high-temperature-and-horrendous-humidity also destroyed, is destroying, and will keep destroying the productivity and creativity of the human being. Ironic, huh?

My muddled head and paralyzed damp body is proof.

Apocalypse Now

It's a wonder I am still alive, and the world still functions as usual. The heat in the afternoon was stuff from post-apocalyptic films, the kind that destroys all but a few survivors, hunting and scavenging like Robinson Crusoe, everyday a drama.

I myself would be one of the cast, bitching and arguing with the lead character, impatient with the unbearable situation, decided to act alone and soon become a manifestation of supporting-role stupidity by falling off the ridge/stumbling into a horde of zombies/being consumed by a vortex of sharks.

Fortunately,  by nightfall, the heat has lessened and I was able to think more clearly. We watched a couple of episodes of Grand Design and Country Life on BBC, and talked about our retirement plan, musing over possible location, like Taichung or Chang-Hua.

I had a headache almost all day, felt better only after dinner. They say office coffee addicts often feel nauseous during weekends. I definitely need to go out and resupply my stock first thing tomorrow.

Chapter 1, Earth Human Survival Guide

(ver. Taiwan, a tiny island situated somewhere near a rock and a pair of very sharp scissors)

1. You don't need this guide if you are under 40.

2. Once you are 40, prepare to go through at least two, most likely a series of of crises.

3. 1st thing you should know in dealing with these crises, is that you need much, much more than a job, a wife, and multiple cats to get through.

4. 2nd thing you should know, is that you don't need to drink, be an alcoholic, do drugs, be a drug addict, or even beat your wife, to feel in-crisis.

5. OK, now that we had a basic understanding, here we go: to survive more than 40 years, on this petty island in this great big world, you will need:

a. a (big) family,

OR

b. (a bunch of) friends,

OR

c. an obsession,

OR

d. a (strong) sense of being needed.

(to be continued)

Life is a Lemon

Life is a lemon. You can bite it raw, sucking all the glory and bittersweet in one explosive instant. Or, you can crush the fruit, add a lot of water, make a pot of lemonade, and enjoy an iced cup of light drink for a whole summer week.

Press Here to Repeat

And again.

Repetition Kills You

I used to think my life stops being meaningful when I begin to repeat myself. Now I know better.

As The Black Ghosts reveals in their song, "this (song) is a repetition of words, dancing needs a repetition to work," the secret of life, besides the trick to keep breathing, is accepting repetition, and learning to repeat while not repeating.

For people in the creative business, this is perhaps the most important revelation. Repetition doesn't kills you. Boredom does. How to repeat with style and interesting flavor to entertain your audience, and to stay relevant, is an art, even THE art, of creative lives.

And on a broader scale, isn't life a series of endless repetitions? We go to work, we knock off, we go on holidays, we get back to work. The mundaneness is torture, but only when you have mastered the routines, can you starting seeing the hidden possibilities and ironies.

And the fun to play with them.

Hooter

I heard a owl for the first time the other night. Actually it mustn't be the first time, because the sound came out familiar to my ears, only I didn't make the cognitive connection between the hooting sound and the animal that's making it, until that night.

You need to turn up the volume to the hear the hooter. It's in the background, masked by the incessant city chatter, but distinctly audible if you know what to listen to.

Owls in the city? Right beside my apartment? I only have limited knowledge about birds, but this discovery didn't come as much a surprise as it could have been. Subconsciously, I suspect more that a few nocturnal critters had ventured into the city domain, sneaking back and forth across the tacit boundaries of civilization and wilderness.

Believe it or not, a night heron once perched atop the fountain in our front yard, drooling over the carps, and just this morning at 4 o'clock, I ran into the spotted cat, strolling into the basement just as I opened the gate, as if I were the doorman, she a resident.

Denim shorts or Lycra pants

The heat is maddening. You would think people would flock to the underpass to cross the street, if only for the temporary respite from the heat. But what do you know? Even in the most scorching of scorching days, Taipeians stick to the blacktop, marching briskly along the white stripes.

Heat can be debilitating. There is no clarity of mind, everything is muddled, distorted by a wavering mirage. The more you try to concentrate, the more exhausted you become.

Which is more sexually arousing? A pair of denim hot shorts, or Lycra pants? It's completely irrelevant, but it's also the only thing you can manage to work in your brains sitting at the barely sheltered outdoor coffee stand.

The only good thing perhaps, about summer in the city, is you get to appreciate every possible variation of lovely female legs.

Zach's Song

If only I had more time with you.

Let's go UP

I didn't know Zach Sobiech, only heard of his name several days ago from a passing twitter post. But his soft mumble accompanied by a 7-note melody, struck the softest spot the first time I heard him sing.

His story filled the airwaves and the net, I really don't need to share his story again. Actually his story was nothing to me, until the song told me of the dark and lonely hole he fell into, and how he climbed his way to the edge to fly up, up, and up, to the clouds.

Zach passed away a few days ago, ending his struggle with cancer. The song "Clouds" is an iTune bestseller now, leaving a steady stream of donations to medical researches. But what he left behind is really much, much more than that. Because every person listening to his song would feel a little better, fly a little higher, hoping a little harder, for a nicer little place up there in the clouds. 

Speed Meal

The lady sat by the door, conversing excitedly with her company, oblivious to the outside world. She had full cycling gear on, complete with the air-dynamic helmet.

And it's the helmet that gave an out-of-this-world aura of her, in the near-empty fast food restaurant, under 7 o'clock morning light.

I don't know what makes people wanna eat with their helmets on. A speed meal? Protection from the onslaught of cholesterol?

Or maybe she is just fashionable.

Fear

We all fear. Fear of death, fear of loss, fear of letting out the fact that we fear. But we can not use fear as the excuse to remove everything that makes us fear.

Because the origin of fear is you. Not "it", not "him", not "them".

We can beat up every kid who won't gang up, kill all the bad guys who threaten us, bomb out every country that smuggles WMD, and we would still find some "other" thing to fear, one after another. Insecurity creeps up, just when you thought you have weeded out the root of evil from the surface of earth.

Because in the end, the battle of survival is not between "us" and "them", but in yourself, between "fearful you" and "fearless you".

Humidity

I am sure it's been analyzed in some scientific study here or there, if it's not already been revealed in academic report.

I mean, the fact that people are touchy when the weather gets under their skins.

Your wife yelled at you for no reason, cars at your back honked for the slightest wait, cars rudely cut in front you, cars speeding, sirens wailing in, sirens wailing out, even your cat seemed to hold a grudge against you, only she's too busy napping to take it out on you.

Spring is occasionally nice here, like when you go for a night cruise with the windows down. But most of the time, rain and sun combine in such a bad way that you swear you want to wring the air dry like a dripping towel.

Versailles

Another of the band's "epic" tunes. This time he keeps singing falling, falling, and falling.

Do we spot a pattern here?

The audience was swooned, so much so the girls looked just like the groupies he talked about in Rome. Then again, with music so infectious, can't blame them.

BTW, turned out the band is from Versailles. The "Chateau." Close to Paris, but different place.

Rome, Rome, Rome, Rome

You barely make out what he is singing. But the electronic web wraps you, draws you in, echoing in an infinite yet closed auditorium, inducing a trance-like 4-min.

And he kept singing Rome, Rome, Rome, Rome.

The band "Phoenix" is from Paris. It's singer Thomas Mars married the directer Sofia Coppala in 2011, whose "Lost in Translation" is one of my favorites.  For a French band, Phoenix' music is more British or New-York sounding than chanson. But there is a polished side of it that surely reminds me of Paris.

Strange thing is, even after the 99th repeated play, I still can't figure out what Rome is supposed to mean..

Rain, lots of it

It's raining pigs and rabbits, cause I don't know how you would describe it, but it's definitely more than cats and dogs.

Hangover plus a deluge. Perfect way to start a efficient workday.

The hangover was not from beers. Went to watch a movie by Danny Boyle yesterday, the twists and turns made me dizzy, almost nauseous. Not saying it's bad, but it won't qualify as happy holiday entertainment.

The music was nonetheless good. Never knew elevator music could be used in a thriller soundtrack, and sounds oddly exciting. Not bad at all, as all British movies are musically.

Dream

The dream was so real, and I found out what they mean by "he woke up in a cold sweat."

I was in some kind of tour, like the ones 6th and 9th graders have before they graduate, and the tour had just ended, everyone were in the bus ready to leave with their luggages loaded, except me.

I had a strong feeling that this is not the first time I had dreams along this theme, but dreams being dreams, nothing is certain.

I was along in the hotel room, trying frantically to find the one very important personal belonging that I had forgot and had to retrieve, even when the bus was leaving to catch the plane.

In the dream, the sense of hopelessness is absolute, like the moments when you are in the air hurtling toward the street, falling off the height of a building. There's simply nothing you can do.

I rarely had dreams. Or rarely had dreams that I still remembers after I woke up. Is it the weather? It's been unusually warm the past few nights, as warm as summer. So it must be.

It tells me that I need a vacation. One at the beach. By car, and WITHOUT BUSES.