cover letter

Dear God,

With a book in hand, I feel so happy and content that I forget the fact I am jobless and need to write a cover letter to apply for some position. I don’t know how to generate significant revenue and acquire new business; and I don’t care if I can speak fluent English or have some working knowledge of computer. I had been doing odd jobs, such as clerk, janitor, research assistant, for these years; all resulted in trivial accomplishment. The profit goes to books, which are piling up on the shelf. It becomes clear to me that all I want to be is a reader. In my imagination heaven looks like a library. Maybe I will apply for the librarian in the future. Your son, Jesus, once said to his disciples,“ Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; nor about the body, what you will put on. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing.” So I will leave the worry to You. I am still alive, and want to go back reading. Please leave me alone.

Sincerely,

homer

encounter

As I stood at a bus stop, I noticed a pretty woman raising her head to read the route map. There were only two of us. She has a delicate face, and puts a yellow towel on her neck, like the way a laborer yelling “福氣啦！” in the end of a TV commercial does. It was hot. She toweled her sweat-beading forehead occasionally. She looked poised like a local who knows where she is going. I was heading to an unfamiliar place, and I felt a sudden urge to talk to her. To strike up a conversation, I took advantage of my ignorance and asked her, in Chinese, which line I should take to get to my destination. She raised her head again to read the sign,
“Almost every line can get there,” in English she answered.
A Filipina, who can read Chinese?! That’s rare, I thought and said so.
She said she is a Japanese and can read some Chinese. To my second amazement, she speaks fluent English. I took the same bus with her, and our chatting took flight as if we were on board an airplane. She told me where she wanted to buy taro cakes to bring back to Japan and how she missed her mother’s cooking. I told her I was going to a Japanese restaurant— what a coincidence—recommended by a friend I knew from the Internet. She had lived in America for some years; I have never been abroad. I have never felt so comfortable speaking in English. It comes so natural for both of us. It was a pity I had to leave earlier. When I got off, looking backwards, waving good-bye, we look like friends who have known each other for a long time.

solar eclipse

The longest total solar eclipse of the century is happening today. But, alas, we can only see partial solar eclipse in Taiwan. It is not too bad. On my way home i see many people use filters to watch the event, to make sure if the sun really loses a piece of "meat". The summer sun has never been so welcome before. Instead of keeping from sunlight vigorously, they are cheering the wonder in the sky.

moon walk

This is what i want to remember Michael Jackson,
as a singer, a dancer, an individual without the illusion of making the world a better place.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VASYhabHkM

He is so much like a figure from a fairy tale that growing old is impossible and forbidden. Longevity is no longer a blessing; he has to be forever young, which is a sensational phenomenon on TV but a tragedy in real world. Life can be such an irony that his classic album is Thriller, when all he needs is peace of mind. It's said that he died of cardiac arrest, after taking overdose of painkiller. He is walking to the moon. May he rest in peace.

cloud

Bags full of recycled plastic bottles are piled and bundled up into a large mass on a trolley. The whole thing looks like a cloud walking on the ground, you cannot see the one who pushes it if you stand in front of it. The old woman pushes it with the perseverance of an insect taking care of the basic needs. She does not have to see the road, everybody would give in and step away. She crosses the road, meets an obstacle, pushes harder, one, two, three, not until the motorcycle rider gives out a loud cry does she stop to check what's going on. The motorcycle is waiting to take a left turn in the middle of the road. After some indecipherable curses or complaints, the rider moves away. The old woman resumes to push on, to where the cloud can be sold in exchange of a few coins like raindrops from the sky.

echo

Walking out of the darkness of movie theater, I was driven into a public reading room nearby by the brightness of sunshine at two. I was amazed by how cool and quiet it was, only slight buzz of the air-conditioner and faint racing engines outdoors could be heard. I seemed to disturb the silence by merely turning the pages. The movie I just saw still had its impact on me, it hit me hard like I were some kind of a bell and the sound vibrated through my emptiness, echoing.

Bel Canto

It has been raining for several days in a row, and shows no sign of weakening. I feel quite comfortable and undisturbed. I find the rain is pouring only in periods, so I even go out without my annoying umbrella which I often forgot to take home, I can always stay somewhere dry until the rain takes its break. I have Bel Canto with me. I am halfway through it, and I find it not very convincing. It has an interesting idea of terrorists storming an international gathering, taking hostages of an assortment of people from different countries, only to miss their intended target, the President, who has stayed at home to watch his favorite soap. The characters, including the terrorists, are not very different from each other, even though they speak different languages, they look very English to me like the author herself, that is, she is everywhere. It is not much of a siege story as a romance happening at some vacation resort. Her prose is warm and fun, anyway, I am kidnapped and break out laughing at some unexpected moments.

password

I couldn't help laughing when I heard the following remarks from the radio,
"Passwords are like underwear.
They are private.
Don't share them with others.
And change them often."

afterquake

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=103906236

touching story, great music.

swine flu

For several days in a row I have heard some key words again and again from the radio, "swine flu outbreak", "Mexico", "WHO raises pandemic alert level", "wash your hands often". They all bring back the memory of the period of SARS years ago, the time when you had to have your temperature taken on forehead before you enter any public institution, and if the result was negative, you got a colored dot sticker on your clothes to show that you were safe. I did not throw away the stickers, but stuck them on my motorcycle as a decoration. You can still see their traces after these years, only faded and weather-beaten. They are the proof that my motorcycle does not have a fever; truth be told, it is so cold and old that I don't ride it any more.

Flashbacks of A Fool

Thunders clapped in company of heavy rain this morning. Dark clouds gathered to make any outdoor activity dismal. I thought the appointment to see the movie, Flashbacks of A Fool, would be canceled. I went to the appointed tea shop just to be on the safe side; besides, it's in my neighborhood, 10-15 minutes of walk, which won't cost me a sweat. I was glad I was wrong. When I got there, Chien-shun, Mimi, Jelly, Morning and Roger had already been there, and then Abel came, we chatted over large cups of tea and free fried tofu.

Ellen arrived in time for the opening of the movie, and she was greeted by the scenes of a fading film star, Joe Scott, indulging himself in sex, drugs and alcohol. haha...

The adult Joe Scott, played by Daniel Craig, is very far from the role of James Bond, and I think he also did a good job, without those stunning stints. The flashbacks of his teenage years, his first encounters of love and loss, came in to explain what he was trying to run away from. They carried bitter and nostalgic feelings. I believe the music the characters grew up with played an important role for the movie. With one song you may set the right mood for the atmosphere, the age of pinball machines. But, alas, as a foreigner, I can only guess and leave it to imagination.

Finally, a word a day keeps the doctor away.
Concealer: A facial cosmetic used to cover blemished skin. 遮瑕膏

The Reader

"I like the fact that there have been so many storms this summer."

It is one of the sentences that Hanna, the female protagonist, wrote to Michael, the male protagonist, after she learned how to read and write in jail. The pages in my right hand became thinner and thinner, that is, it's near the end of the novel, The Reader. The weather outside seemed to take its cue, and began to unleash a thunderstorm, buckets of rain poring from the sky. I raised my head to observe the suddenly flooded streets, and cars splashing curtains of water as they sped by. Without an umbrella, I was stranded in a coffee shop waiting for the rain to ease up. In the company of the thunderstorm, I resumed my reading towards its tragic ending. There's a paragraph that is especially heartbreaking, when Michael visited Hanna for the first time after she had served 18 years in jail:

I saw the expectation in her face, saw it light up with joy when she recognized me, watched her eyes scan my face as I approached, saw them seek, inquire, then look uncertain and hurt, and saw the light go out of her face. When I reached her, she smiled a friendly, weary smile. "You've grown up, kid." I sat down beside her and she took my hand.

借用席慕蓉的詩來解釋：

當你走近　請你細聽

那顫抖的葉是我等待的熱情

而當你終於無視地走過

在你身後落了一地的

朋友啊　那不是花瓣

是我凋零的心

--「一棵開花的樹」

slumdog millionaire

I just finished reading 《slumdog millionaire》, a novel by Vikas Swarup.
The original title is 《q & a》, which is more revealing of the way the story is told.
The author uses the form of a quiz show to tell the story or stories, because for every answer to a question there is a bitter fragment of the hero's life in India and how he gets to know the answer. Through his adventures in various cities we get glimpses of the poverty and social problems in India. The suspense of how the poor hero wins a billion rupees is well kept to the end. It turns out to be a fascinating fairy tale.
I am looking forward to seeing its adapted film which is a winner in Oscar this year.

World Baseball Classic

With the curtain of WBC falling, I feel a little out of place. It's like an exciting dream from which I don't want to wake up. There are still fragments of yesterday's game replaying in my mind. I am deeply touched by the matches of Japan vs. Korea. They deserve every respect. Besides the pulsating games on TV, I also sense there are some invisible offenses and defenses going on in this side of my life, like the strangers sharing the same TV with me at the risk of being caught by their bosses in office hours; or the young man standing quietly by the lane selling delicious sandwiches on a large tray hung on his neck; or the sports-themed resturants, where there must be TV with games on, closed and for rent. They are unforgettable impressions, now I have to put them behind and move on and hit some ball into play.

triskaidekaphobia

triskaidekaphobia: fear of the number 13.

When I passed by a Starbucks last night, there was a long waiting line zigzagging from indoor warmth to outdoor coldness. Out of curiosity, I walked up to check the bulletin board at the gate. White Valentine's Day, time to share your happiness, it said. I took a second look at the waiting crowd. They did not look like happy couples or lovers, but more like bitter refugees from the other day, Friday the 13th, or the last one in February.

There is still one more Friday the 13th. In November. Dark forces of numerology. No wonder economists are pessimistic about the prospect of this year.

March

Turning over a new page to March on the calendar, which contains twelve paintings of Marc Shagall for each month, I find a woman in red blouse and yellow skirt dancing to some inaudible melody, entitled Gypsy.
So I leave my job to join the grand march of unemployment.

I buy a new Panasonic vacuum cleaner. The dust in my room has been thick. I have the whole time in the world to deal with it now.

The wise bartender J in Pinball, 1973, by Haruki Murakami （村上春樹）, said:
“Me, I’ve seen 45 years, and I’ve figured out one thing. That’s this: if a person would just make the effort, there’s something to be learned from everything. From even the most ordinary, commonplace things, there’s always something you can learn. I read somewhere that they say there’s even different philosophies in razors. Fact is, if it weren’t for that, nobody’d survive.”

So is vacuum cleaner.

birdscape

As the engine got started, the bus slowly moved away from the depot and hit the road, my thoughts started to roll like the spinning wheels. I wanted to go to Taipei to meet my younger sister and brother. A bag stood beside my seat, in which there was a large pop-up book I bought on line to be a gift for my niece. She is just three years old. When she opens the book, there will be various birds singing and chirping from every page which pops up the landscape where specific birds inhabit, like desert, marshland, rain forest, and so on. I am not sure if she will like it or if it is suitable for her age. It has been a year since the last time I saw her. The book could be torn down in a few days by her curious fingers. Even so, I hope, she can finish it with an exhalation of awe, because it is as large as an illustrated Oxford Dictionary. I remember when I was a little boy, I got a pencil-sharpening machine, stylish and practical like any Japanese goods, from my aunt. I thought I could bring it to school to show off the next morning. But my father smashed it against the wall the very night, on his outburst of anger with my mother. I was woken up by the noise to find the debris of the gift and the mismatched marriage. Nothingness is happiness.

Cockroach

“C-o-c-k-r-o-a-c-h,” I spelled it out to Jelly at lunch. Of course, we did not have it for lunch. The restaurant was clean and quiet, to my surprise, with only a few people sitting sparsely around. We occupied the table at the farthest corner. Crystal was talking about her research on cockroaches, while the rest of us listened with mouths slightly agape, except for Mimi, our new CEO, screwing up her pretty face and making noises of disagreement. And then Mimi gave a vivid account of what once happened at her home in Taipei, dozens of cockroaches fled for life from a hole of a pipe in the kitchen because of pesticide spraying down in basement, very much like a scene of horror movie. Although I didn’t like them, either, Crystal made her research informative and sort of entertaining. John asked how to catch them effectively. A bottle with a little sugar and wine in it and petroleum jelly around its mouth can do the trick. As if thinking of speaking English, the official purpose of our meeting, Jelly asked how to spell cockroach, one of the very few words we spoke in English.

Spring Scream

The nine-day holidays of Lunar New Year, as time always flies, have come to an end. It is supposed to be a little depressing to have to come back to work. But, no, with more and more of bad news of financial crisis making the headlines, laid-off workers forced to tighten their belts, you should be glad that at least when you wake up tomorrow morning, wallowing in bed for a few minutes until all the senses restore the order of things, and jump to start the daily routines towards, yes, work.

It is wrong to start a new year in such a pessimistic way. The sun is shining in the blue sky and promises more of the same. Spring is here. Bad news may drop like shit from the sky. Everybody has their share. But that can’t stop me from uttering my first spring scream.

Ahhhhh...
Come all you gals
Put on your best clothes
Follow the footsteps of spring
Flowers will be your guide
And I am your man
Ahhhh...