TUESDAY, 15 JUNE 2004
A cargo train hits one that messes around too much on his own track
Like a freight train would sober up a drunk man on a train track late at night, so an idea recently hit me: Some people close to me believe the main reason why I am still in Taiwan after all these years is because they think I am … let’s just say, of an “alternative” sexual orientation, and to be here – away from the prying eyes of people who know me, I can give my sexuality free reign.
Allow me to make the following comments on the subject (with the relevant people very close to me the intended readers):
1) I am aware of the fact that this type of misconception takes years to sneak into people’s imaginations, and it is usually not dispelled simply because the person says, “You are wrong.”
2) You are all wrong.
3) If people fail to understand more complex reasons for the decisions others make, or to understand what motivates them, their imaginations usually work overtime to make up for it.
4) I have no problem with homosexuality, so don’t expect me to be uncomfortable when the topic comes up.
5) Finally, if, and when I meet a woman with whom I want to spend serious time, it will not be to make anyone other than myself and this special person happy.
Oh, one last thing: thanks for coming up for me against those who are perhaps less tolerant in such matters, even though everyone missed the target by some distance.
WEDNESDAY, 16 JUNE 2004
Another train insight
People look around them and see what manifests as good and successful and efficient human models. They then look at themselves, see where they fall short, and develop obsessions to make up for their perceived shortcomings.
What lies behind this? As I have stated before, I believe what lies behind it is fear. The “potential” human being is shocked alive, like a Frankenstein figure, by the lightning bolt of fear. Fear of what? Fear of failure as a human being, of being swallowed up into the Big Nothingness, and of being forgotten as though they had never even left a single footprint on terra firma.
[Text is text, right? What would be impossible to read between the lines of the above two paragraphs is that I almost lost my wallet and had to spend half an hour on a deserted train station between Crooked Village Number Nine and my hometown of Fengshan simply because of my unwillingness to wait until I got home before making a note of my thoughts.
On this particular Wednesday morning I was waiting for a train at Number Nine’s station. The specific wording of the above text entered my grey matter, I took a little packet of papers from my bookbag, forgot to close the bag, and started jotting down the note. The train approached the station as I was writing the last sentence. I grabbed my bag, my papers, my bottle of water and my pen, and ran for the nearest door. Only on the train did I realise my bag was still open. I felt around for my wallet, and after I had checked in all the possible places I came to the conclusion that the wallet must have fallen out.
The station master at the next station – whom I had only located with my second attempt, phoned the other station master, and half an hour later I was reunited with my wallet, my three banknotes and my movie VIP card.
It could have been worse, I told myself: I could have forgotten the wording of an interesting thought.]
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