What do I do when my love is away?
(Does it worry you to be alone?)
How do I feel at the end of the day?
(Are you sad because you're on your own?)

You'll make a big mistake

I have a lot to do, but still I do nothing
of importance, what is that word again?
Insides, wet and collapsing, sliding down
the bottomless pit
of lazy Sundays.

Whole days lost, over and over
to empty thoughts,
and strange behavior, nevertheless
learning how to walk again
or was it how to stand up?

Subdued, somewhat

So what if I don't talk as freely
or act as agreeably?
We can rehash the same old jokes,
relive the same old days,
but I can never be

the same old me.

We'll always be best friends?

I know I just started this journal yesterday and already I've written about three completely unrelated topics: Taiwan, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, baking, and now... friendships. I'm listening to Hooverphonic's "Out of Sight" and that's what gave me the idea. When I think of friendship, I'm usually half comforted and half confused.

When I was in elementary school, I didn't care how many friends I had. I didn't even really have any good friends, I just hung out with kids who liked to play handball and tetherball during recess. I guess there were times I was forced to make small talk with them before and after school, but we never hung out otherwise. Elementary school was weird.

Then there was junior high. I like to refer to myself during that time period as an awkward, loud and annoying motherfucker. From 8th to 9th grade, I started my very first band with my friends. Dubbed For Shame, our band never amounted to anything except inside jokes and scans of doodles drawn on Post-its. The website was more of a place for me to share crappy lyrics than music, seeing as how I didn't really write music because I didn't really know how to play guitar when I started the band. But the lyrics, oh man, I wrote a LOT of lyrics. Strangely enough, they were all about suicide, blood and death. I was a happy kid, why did I do that? Mystery of life. I kept starting bands throughout my Oxford career, and I kept failing at them. The only benefit from it all was making friends through music. Mostly they were guys who kept wanting to play covers of blink-182 and All American Rejects, but I relented since they needed a singer. I really butchered those already butchered songs.

My point is... actually, what the hell is my point? I thought I was talking about friends. Then I started talking about music. God, I just wanted to write something. This is frustrating. Sometimes I get depressed in the middle of writing and forget what I wanted to say. Well, this sucks.

Baking

I hate driving to Stater Bros. to buy the ingredients. I hate cracking the eggs, pouring the oil and opening the boxes. I hate the mess it makes. I hate watching the clock and waiting for the oven to beep. I especially hate having to wash a shitload of bowls and utensils in the end. So why do I do it? Why do I torture myself just for some cupcakes, or oreo fudge bars, or cake? I end up giving most of it away.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (soundtrack review)

1. Tear Me Down
The movie starts off with Hedwig and his band singing to uninterested geriatrics in a Denny's-styled restaurant. Upon first hearing, I didn't really like the song much, but after a few more listens, it became one of my favorites. The best part is the beginning - "Don't you know me? I'm the new Berlin Wall, baby. Try and tear me down!"

2. Origin Of Love
Tan told me that his Writing 39B class watched the movie, and he suggested that I listen to this song specifically since it also tied in to what I was learning in Humanities Core. The song tells the exact story of Aristophanes' theory of human evolution, so it's pretty long at 5:26. Nevertheless, it's an educational one.

3. Angry Inch
The funniest and most obscene song in the movie. I laugh every time Hedwig sings, "Long story short, when I woke up from the operation, I was bleeding down there. I was bleeding from the gash between my legs. My first day as a woman and already it’s that time of the month. But two days later the hole closed up, the wound healed, and I was left with a one inch mound of flesh where my penis used to be, where my vagina never was, a one inch mound of flesh with a scar running down it like a sideways grimace on an eyeless face. Just a little bulge, it was an angry inch." In the movie, Hedwig's body movements and facial expressions go along with the words perfectly.

4. Wicked Little Town (Tommy Gnosis Version)
Michael Pitt sang this pretty well, but there's always been something about him that I didn't like, especially in that movie he did with Ryan Gosling and Sandra Bullock, Murder By Numbers. Must be his lips.

5. Wig In A Box
It picks up in the middle and gets fun when he invites you to sing along.

6. The Long Grift
I think this might be my favorite. "Look what you've done, you gigolo..." Takes colloquial words and sets them to slow music.

7. Hedwig's Lament
Ah, piano. Not much to say about this one, I should listen to it more.

8. Exquisite Corpse
Good rock number. I love it when Miriam Shor comes in. Her high voice contrasts nicely with Hedwig's deeper tone.

9. Midnight Radio
When I was driving Mantog to school, Hedwig sang "Rain... falls... down..." and a few drops of rain splattered on my windshield and then suddenly stopped. It was so freaky. Well, it might've been bird crap, but still, what a coincidence! So that's what I think about every time I hear this song now.

10. Nailed
A song about Jesus Christ getting nailed. I don't really listen for the subject matter.

11. Sugar Daddy
This is one of my favorites too. It's fun, lighthearted and country. After watching Hedwig sing and dance to this, I've come to the conclusion that John Cameron Mitchell should've been born a woman. All would be right in the world.

12. Freaks (With Girls Against Boys)
The worst song on the album. My god, what the hell?

13. In Your Arms Tonight
Similar to "The Long Grift" in style, but a little more upbeat.

14. Wicked Little Town (Hedwig Version)
Different version but still good.

When I was young...

It was the country of motorcycle exhaust, humid days, and sketchy arcades (yes, just like the one from Lost In Translation!). I used to frequent Taiwan with only my brother, Brother, because my parents had to work and wanted us to spend our vacation with relatives. Every two or three summers, we would board China or Malaysia Airlines to visit our Mom's side of the family and stay with them for a few months, experiencing the life of a true Asian, surrounded by other Asians. In America, you don't really get that feeling (unless you go to UCI, of course).

Oh, how I miss the smelly tofu, boiled barbecued chicken hearts and fried pig blood sold on every street corner of the bustling city of Taipei. But that one time with the corn and chicken crepe was not a particularly pleasant experience. Can a crepe give you a migraine? I choose to block out that singular unenjoyable memory when dwelling upon my whimsical days in Taiwan.

I long to ride on the back of a small Vespa once again, the warm night air not really rippling through my hair because I'm wearing a helmet, but gently creating resistance against the hard plastic. I hold onto my cousin's waist as we zoom to the nearest night market to pick up some noodles for dinner. Open air is all around with nothing to protect us from an unfortunate skidding crash. Fortunately, Winnie knows how to handle the two-wheeled monster. Taxis and other motorcycles flank our front, back and sides at red lights. I watch scores of pedestrians cross at every intersection, the number never dying down until the early a.m.'s.

Now, I forget how many stories are in my eldest uncle's place. It was more than five but less than eight. He owned that whole building! Since I live in a crappy American economy where buying a house is near impossible unless you're stinkin' rich, I still don't understand how he affords it. I remember running up to the highest story just to see if I would feel taller. Nothing changed. The perpetual stairs eventually led my brother, cousins and I to the very top floor where we would watch Popeye in Chinese and "All's Fair at the Fair"-esque animations. There used to be a small cockroach infestation on the first floor where the minibar was, but that didn't really bother us. I remember sitting there with Brother, Lynn and Crystal. We would imitate jovial alcoholics by knocking back, one by one, cups of Super Supau, sarsaparilla and apple soda.

What I miss the most is family. I was always closer to my mom's side than my dad's, although Joseph was an exception. My mom's side has no sons. There's Angela, Winnie, Lynn, Crystal, Josephine, and now, Joyce. I recall spending New Year's in the back room of Xinmundin (my grandma's apartment) with Brother, Lynn and Crystal. We watched the live coverage of the countdown and taped ourselves experiencing the arrival of a new year. We screamed aimlessly for at least 10 seconds when 2005 hit.

I haven't been to Taiwan in four years, but it feels like a decade.