Monday, May 2, 2011

Vipassana

For ten days I woke up at four in the morning and brushed my teeth and put on fresh clothes and wrapped myself in a blanket and walked into a dimly lit room and sat on a pillow for 2 hours. Then I got up and ate breakfast at a small wooden bench in a small dining hall filled with Taiwanese men slurping up their porridge in silence. Then I would return into my sleeping quarters, which was a small room with three straw beds and three mosquito nets and a cement floor, and retrieve 2 pieces of clothing out of my pack (a faded and torn blue and grey a pack that has been with me to various locations on Earth). With these pieces of clothing in my hands I would leave the room. I would slide the door shut behind me and then I would walk beneath a sheet metal roof to a row of sinks and retrieve a plastic tub from beneath one of the sinks and put my 1 or 2 pieces of clothing in the plastic tub and then scoop out 1/6th of a plastic spoon full of high-concentrate, eco-friendly laundry detergent and pour it into the tub along with the clothing. Then I would pour the detergent over the 1 or 2 pieces of clothing and then turn on the sink and fill the plastic tub with water and set it down on the ground to let the clothing soak. Then I would take a shower. Then I would take laps in a small walking yard until 8 o’clock in the morning. In the walking yard there was a clothesline and several flowering trees. Beyond the walking yard there were small mountains. At 8 o’clock I would return to the dimly lit hall and sit for an hour and then get up and walk in the yard for 10 minutes and then sit for 2 more hours, either in the dimly lit hall or in my small room with the three straw beds and the three mosquito nets and the cement floor. At 11 o’clock in the morning I would eat lunch surrounded by Taiwanese men, who seem to belch and fart with far less inhibition than American men. Then I would return to my plastic tub and get a washboard and put the washboard under one of the faucets in the row of sinks and run the water over the washboard and slap and scrub my 1 or 2 pieces of clothing against the washboard. When I could observe zero traces of soap foaming out of the clothing, I would hang them up to dry on the clothesline in the walking yard and then walk in circles in the walking yard. At 2 o’clock I would return to the dimly lit hall or my room with the straw beds etc. and sit for one and a half hours. Then I would stand up and walk in circles the walking yard for 10 minutes. Then I would return to the dimly lit hall and sit for an hour. Then I would walk in circles for 10 minutes. Then I would sit in the dimly lit hall for an hour and a half. Then I would eat an apple. Then I would take my clothes off the line and fold them and return to my room with the mosquito nets and place the 1 or 2 pieces of clothing in my pack that has travelled with me to various places. At 6 o’clock I would return to the dimly lit hall and sit for an hour. At 7 o’clock I would return to the dining hall and sit in there with an American-looking female whom I mostly didn’t look at but sometimes looked at. While the Taiwanese men and women listened to a Mandarin voice recording in the dimly lit hall, the American-looking woman and I watched an Indian man on TV talk to us in English about misery. He talked at us about misery in English for about an hour and then she would leave the dining hall through one door and I would leave the dining hall through another and we would both return to the dimly lit hall through different doors and sit on opposite sides of the dimly lit hall for forty-five five minutes. At 9 o’clock I would leave the dimly lit hall and brush my teeth and then I would return to my room and lie down on top of my straw bed and beneath my mosquito net. The mosquito net was green. Between the straw bed and me there was a pale blue bed sheet. Between the mosquito net and me was my sleeping bag, which I used more as a blanket than as a bag, and which, like my pack, had been with me to various places prior to this room with cement floor. At this point I would close my eyes and try to sleep. I would either sleep or not sleep. I would either dream or not dream. I would continue to sleep or not sleep and dream or not dream until 4 o’clock in the morning, at which point the process repeated until 10 days had passed.


Also, during this whole time I was breathing and feeling things.

Sunday, April 17, 2011


Peter got a new hat!

El Nido!


We just returned home this morning at 4 am from our trip to The Last Frontier--El Nido, Palawan in the Philippines. If there's one thing I learned on this trip, it's this: TRUST IN RICO. We tried to make a reservation on the phone at Rico's Hotel, and it went something like this: "We'd like to reserve--" "ok ok ok" "a room--" "ok ok ok" "five nights?" "ok ok ok" "my name is--" "ok ok ok" "so everything is ok?" "ok."


so, we didn't feel too confident in our reservation, especially compared to our reservations in japan (this email is to serve as the reconfirmation of the confirmation of your reservation). but, we showed up, and they had our room! and it was beachside (on the bottom is a picture of the view off our porch), and cheap, and clean, and it had no mosquitoes! so, trust in rico.

Monday, February 14, 2011



We went to Japan and saw snow monkeys!
We also did other stuff...more later.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

I guess I am not a blogger. I am not a blogger because I wanted to write a novel. I spent three hours a day writing a novel and a hundred hours a day clawing at my eyes.

I wrote a novel. If I were to write a blurb for the novel, it would be this: "It's OK."

Sometime I will write it again. Until then I will write sentences that could be no shorter than they are. Possibly I will become a blogger. One who blogs. Possibly I will become obsessed with image and video. I doubt it, but it could happen. The possible images and sounds would all have to do with Taiwan. Then it would all make sense. "Peter and Kyla in Taiwan."

Is Taiwan a hiker's paradise? Some say yes while others are not so sure. And what's the deal with fish balls? How wild are the wild hot springs? These are the questions I'd like to explore, if I ever become a real one who blogs.

Some day. Some day. (picture/video of a sigh)

Monday, January 3, 2011

Wow, we have not done very well as bloggers lately! Sorry to all of you avid followers (or should I say Ali?).

Here's why we've failed you:


1. My mom came to visit for over a week! As you can tell, she likes to party. Wo ai wo mama!

2. Peter has begun a new career as a fashion designer.

3. We've been watching TV.

4.We currently have a huge pot of chili to deal with. Its outrageously good.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Thursday, November 25, 2010

What is a page

What is a poem

What is a like

The sky was like a bell jar

What is that

What is a mason jar

What is a flea

What is desk or a glass coffee table

What is a word

And yes

What is a name

Of course you have that one

What is a name

What is a battle

What is a wellspring

What is a hoard and what is a safe

What is it you’re trying to do

What is a sacred artifact

What makes an artifact

What is happening

What is a piano

What is an ox

What a time

What a gift

What a sea

What a blue

What a vast blue bell jar sea

Friday, November 19, 2010





I won 17 Hong Kong Bucks. I am not in Hong Kong. I bought a big beer. Now I am a professional gambler.

Saturday, November 6, 2010


"I vow to wake the beings of the world. I vow to set endless heartache to rest. I vow to walk through every wisdom gate. I vow to live the great Buddha way. "



This 30-m Buddha holds ashes of bodies, for some reason. If you visit it, you will be cursed with bad luck. So no one likes to visit it except unknowing foreigners, like ourselves. I think it might be Dr. Evil's headquarters. There's a window in his belly button!

I keep thinking each acting role i have will be the culmination of my career...but then something like this always happens. To summarize: the butt of the long thing, the gout, the girl laughing uncontrollably on stage as Angela and i are enveloped by smoke during Quixote's To Dream the Impossible Dream, and now.... George the Sloth, knocked down by an annoying parrot in the Rainbow Time play for the Cornel Halloween party.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

One more thing before I forget this blog exists for a little while:

Linger (Frank Stanford):

The moon wanders through my barn
Like a widow heading for the county seat

It's not dark here yet
I'm just waiting for the bow hunters
So I can run them off

They put out licks on my land
Every summer

When it gets cool the animals are tame

I've fallen asleep
In the trees before

I dreamed someone's horse
Had wandered out on the football field
To graze
And I was showing children through a museum

The bow hunters make their boys
Pull the deer's tongue out bare-handed

At dusk when I hear an arrow
Coming through my field like a bird
I wonder what men have learned
From feathers

The animals wade the creek
And eat blackberries
The wind blows through the trees
Like a woman on a raft
I think actually maybe it's Stanford not Standford.

In travelly things, something I meant to say for a long time is that listening to the Black Dice album Creature Comforts is exactly like being on the Taipei subway on a weekday around 5-6 PM, in case anyone is interested. Plus the Black Dice just rock you in general and listening to their album Beaches and Canyons is just like listening to their album Beaches and Canyons, which is to say I think maybe nothing has ever sounded like it. Or probably a lot of things have and the Black Dice do a mediocre job of taking stuff a lot of other people do really well and mixing it all together and making that one album of theirs, Broken Ear Record.

And then go on to make two more things that are kind of uninspired and repetitive. That's the scariest thing as an artist maybe. But one thing is: that's a risk everyone takes all the time, in life generally just as much as in art, and maybe that's why art exists anyway and why people go on living anyway, since if the risks weren't taken then there would be nothing.







I just remembered two images from the poet Frank Standford. I discovered Standford's poetry in 2007. He is dead, and his images kill me. Just the images. He doesn't even need a whole poem. Like these two I just remembered, which I am typing here from memory so they might not be 100% accurate. If they don't kill you then they're not 100% accurate.

1. The night is a horse with its eyes shut.

2. The strange country of childhood
like a dragonfly on a long dog chain.


I don't know how to describe Chungking Mansions. It's a tall residential tower in Hong Kong. It is inhabited mostly by Indians and Pakistanis and Africans. A lot of the apartments are converted into restaurants. I think you can buy fake Rolexes and maybe cheap electronics. When you enter the building, you get swarmed if you don't know what's going on, which I didn't, because my friend wanted me to be surprised, which I was. I couldn't even show you an image even if I had the image wires because I didn't take a picture because I was too busy getting swarmed or handed business cards and menus or urgently grabbed on the wrist or slightly pulled to one direction or slightly pushed or following a dude up an elevator or through halls or arriving in a little apartment and then eating really well. Wikipedia it or something.

Monday, October 25, 2010

The image I would now upload into this computer and then on to this website if I had image uploading technology would be of a funny japanese comic book in which a big baby and a big frog do battle.
I am currently in Hong Kong because I'm not allowed in Taiwan all the time like Kyla is because they don't like me as much because I am a jobless bum. I don't have the wires that let me show you images but if I had them I would show you a video of several fish gutted alive, beating bleeding hearts exposed, on ice at a day market.

Saturday, October 16, 2010



Stinky tofu is aptly named. It's fermented. Peter says it tastes like how the Big Pig booth at the Indiana State Fair smells. I say garlic-infused, which is much better and actually makes it quite tasty. This is the fried kind. Apparently the steamed kind really does taste like dog shit.