PART212 A bubble


Sunday, August 29, 2010. In the knowledge
that Bojang has flees Sarah and I boiled our bed sheets and I cleaned our
bedroom with hot water and vinegar. It smelt clean and fresh and I was pleased
by the end of the afternoon when all was defleed. I spoke to my family in the
early evening and for the first time saw my big brothers new girl friend, a
quick intro talk then back to speaking to my Mum who subtly disapproved of me
using our family name in one of my stories. I found this strange at first but
then again I suppose one should ask before dragging others personal things into
one’s own little world of words.

 

Sarah and I went back to the Sichuan restaurant
again. I was bent on having a meal alone with Sarah. Having my efforts thwarted
first by going out with Zhaobing( which was nice) then a night later when I
wanted to go out alone, Sarah invited Haohao( which was not so nice) and THIS! Time
I was adamant that we would have a night alone. When we got to the restaurant
the fizzy boss shouted “ your friends are also here” and he pointed to Zhaobing
sitting with two other people. My heart sank as Sarah with knee jerk reaction
went to say hello to them. It was actually a very pleasant evening after I came
to terms with the fact that it wasn’t going to be a secluded romantic night for
two. Zhaobing brought a big bottle of bie jui which with the haunting,
annoyingly potent echo of my Mums disapproving voice in my mind we proceeded to
consume very quickly. As Zhaobing filled my cup to the brim I thought how in
China drinking hard spirits is quite a respectable manly show which is
performed in front of family and work colleagues where as in the UK this amount
of drinking would call for a few hell bent friends in a shady corner who wanted
to disrespectfully nose dive into oblivion. What I mean to say is that large consumption
of alcohol is encouraged and praised in this part of China where as in the UK
it would be viewed as it should be as over indulgent. Over here, swigging back
shot after shot of stuff which is stronger than anything which has ever been legal
in the UK is applauded by my parents in law as a show of my manliness and my honor.
But to do the same thing in front of my English parents would be distinctly
wrong.

 

 

 

A bubble kept long below a fallen stone,
stagnant, raises green to the surface to find the world blue and white. Its
oily exterior holds for a moment as a bubble on the water, it holds its form tensely
then bursts under the movement of the current and the wind. The air released is
revitalized and carried on into the vastness of the sky, the blue ozone keeping
it all together.

 

 A
bubble kept long in a dark space of blackness moves though eons of time to the
surface, It reaches the tense surface membrane and brakes though, blue and alien
against the indescribable new colors of the cosmos, it hold for a moment as a
almost perfect sphere then pops, torn apart by the rush of speeding light which
forms the surface of the universes sea, the barbed movement of strangely
colored wind transports infinitesimal fragments of the divided world among the
expanses of space.

 

 A
bubble kept long below rises to the surface beyond space and time. Pure light,
bright and shimmering. Existing and self aware in every moment that has and
ever will be, It imploded in on itself into nowhere.

A bubble kept long below the surface rises………..

PART211 Seeing Coach Ma again in a donkey resturant


Saturday, 28th, August, 2010. I
had a dream about being a flying robot last night. I was helping to evacuate a
village of farmers from rampaging death bots. When the Mother ship took off
without me. I skimmed the cubic landscape pursued my fast running zombies as I
witnessed a massacre. My batteries where going flat and my once crushing light
ray was merely bouncing off the transformers who were trying to reach me on my
perch.

 

I woke up with Bojang licking my hand. I
called Coach Ma in the afternoon and we went out for a meal to a donkey restaurant.
Sitting in the small room. Peeling wall paper, water falling on my head from
the stain in the ceiling above I felt extremely happy to see my wrestling coach
again. A slight hunch in his upper back from years of work, hands like slabs of
swollen meat, deformed ears from a life time of shooting at peoples legs to
take them down to the mat and large muscular arms. He smiled squinting his eyes
and showing the array of gold silver and black pieces of metal in his mouth,
like a rickety scaffold holding his mouth together. We swished back a few
glasses of wine and chatted. He told us about when he went to France for a competition
and had tried to ask how much it was for a bottle of wine in a super market.
Unable to speak any English he put a coin in the cashiers hand as to gauge if
he needed to give more money. The cashier thought that Coach Ma didn’t have
enough money and the cashier paid out of his own pocket. Another time in Italy
he said how many people had cheated him, how Italians don’t look honest. I
found this interesting because I have always thought that people with darker completions
are considered with more fear and suspicion than those of fairer skin color. I
myself when first arriving in Haikou found the deeply tanned men scowling at me
by the side of the road much more intimidating than say a whiter people who
scouled at me in the north of China. I wonder why? Deep down I must be racist
to some degree even if my reasoning brain isn’t.

 

After the meal Sarah and I went to practice
Taiji in the park. I am learning the long new form from a video of my Taij
master. It’s going well and I think I will finish it soon. I hope he appreciates
it when I show my progress to him next time I see him. The reason I am doing
this is because he once told me he secretly watched his own Master practicing
this form and he copied it. So I am doing the same thing. After the practice I
went for a wee in the public loos and my urine smelt like pretzels, rather pleasant
and very peculiar as I haven’t been with in eating distance of a pretzel for a
ruddy long time, maybe a year or so.

 

Bojang has flees and although we have only
found two, Sarah is pretty horrified about the whole affair. Looking
imploringly into my eyes ignoring my logic that tomorrow we get some shampoo
and clean the bed sheets. I think she wants a miracle or just a long hug. Now
to bed to sleep perchance to have my light beam recharged and the Mother ship
returning to rescue the farmers and take us all back to planet Zagron. From one
world to the next.

 

If we could take the paint off the canvas,
the canvas out of the frame. Burn the wood and sweep the ashes into a pan and
out the door into the vacuum of space. There would be little or nothing left.

 

Like life, take yourself away, throw the
earth into the sun, crush existence, time and space and put the ash into a dark
corner of nothingness then what are we left with?

 

Seriously what is left?

PART210 Seeing Zhaobing again in a Sichuan resturant


Friday, 27th, August, 2010. In
the afternoon Sarah and I met up with Zhaobing. He used to be one of the people
who goes around in big trucks and nick motorbikes and food stalls which are parked
in areas they should not be in. Possibly one of the most hated people in China.
He has twins and one of them has brain problems and motor skills difficulties.
His wife is a nurse in the local hospital. When we met him in his new work
building nearby he looked happy. He has just been promoted to hunting down
people who do not get planning permission for their buildings, it’s a promotion
and as he told us a much less stressful job. A much better job he says,
although now he works every day until 8 in the evening and he gets mobs of
disgruntled workers trying to attack him at work because he was shut down their
work. “We could not leave in the evening so we called the police” He laughed. I
wondered how bad his work before must have been.

 

We went to a Si chuan restaurant, a plain
big shabby room with old small tables and chairs dotted around and a huge silver
tub of water in the corner. Running along one wall was a long glass window
looking into the vast kitchen with a team of sweating women slaving over
flaming woks, lines of livid red spicy dishes. Dark chilies and almost black
salty meat. Zhaobing was surprised to see the restaurant boss there today, A
tall fat man from Si chuan province with a shaved head and a serious look on
his face “ He is always getting into fights with locals and he often has to run
away from his enemies so he isn’t here much” Zhaobing told us. The boss caught
my eye and bellowed out a gruff “HELLO” I saluted back friendlily, liking him immediately.
I had a large bowl of noodles, a spoonful of sugar on top and mountains of
ground chilly made the soup dark and menacing, looking more like an angry
volcano swamp than something to put in your mouth. My mouth watered profusely
as I smelt the delicious mix. Chicken feet, sweet spicy beef chunks with sesame
seeds sprinkled on and glass noodles for Sarah and Zhaobing. We drank Beijiu
but mean spirits are not the best combination to go with spicy food so I
brought a refreshing cool beer. I was sweating and my nose was running. I knew
I was enjoying the food but it was painful and hard work.

 

Zhaobing was talking at length to Sarah as
I battled with my meal. He was talking about all his woes. Not enough money,
always tired, stomach ulcer and now his thoughtless Mum is constantly pestering
him to have another child, a boy. Not only would this result in harsh prosecution
from the law, most it would probably get him fired and a heavy fine slammed on
his face but if he did actually get away with it then he would have even more
work and less money. His Mum has also been suggesting ever since their twin
with the disabilities was born that they get rid of her. The Mum offered to
take her to the coast and throw her in the sea. That isn’t a joke by the way.
If I was asked I would take his stupid Mum to the sea side and bury her small
mind in a sand castle until she turned stiff and purple. Zhaobing moaned and
moaned away and by the end of the meal Sarah was quite exhausted and relieved
that it was all over.

 

My abstinence from smoking was toughly
tested today when he gave me a very expensive packet of cigarettes and forced
me to light one. I took a puff, tightening in lungs and dizziness and then I
went outside to discreetly throw it away. He was really trying to make me start
smoking again. But I didn’t. We sauntered back home walking off the food and
wine.

PART209 a quick dip in the hot spring


Thursday, August 26, 2010. In the afternoon
we went to the famous hot spring in the communist resort Mum works in. We entered
the large doors with a big TV hung above the doorway. I was ushered by a friendly
old man into the men’s room (inadequately concealed by a small towel covering
the top third of the door). Men unashamedly whipping out there little willies
pissing in the showers already a rich dark yellow from the years of urine abuse
on the walls and patches of the floor. I skipped though to the main hot spring
and instead of encountering a rock pool of serene monkeys in a mountain valley
being bubbled and caressed by volcanic minerals I found an ordinary swimming
pool with an inordinate amount of grown adults. I have been here before so I
was not surprised to find a moneyless pool. But whenever I hear the word “hotspring”
An image of those Japanese monkeys in misty pools always comes to mind.

 

The majority of the people in the pool
where and could not swim, Saved from going under by inner tubes blown up into
rubber rings. They all gawped at the few God like men slowly splashed their way
up and down the pool without the inner tube. Sarah and I fell in and I just
lounged by the jetting pump on the metal rails by the side. I watched Sarah
trying to traverse the hordes of none swimmers in the shallow end while I (the
great one who though it all out) stayed in the deep end where the majority
could not actually get to.

 

Sarah looked miffed as she constantly
bumped into paddlers and I mussed at her and held back my animosity for the
unswimable hoards. I was enjoying the jetting back massage from the pump far
too much to let any negativity in. Eventually Sarah’s gripping eyes propelled
me toward her unhappy persons and she informed me of what I already knew “there
are too many people here, I want to go”. I nodded sage like and I scooped her
on my back and in slow motion jumped though the water to the edge and out. Although
the showers looked like a disused squatters loo the shower where jetting out
the same hot spring water. so I took my sweet time and had a traditional Tim
half an hour shower in the steamy hot water, surrounded by the pissing people (
thank God and Mum that I have my crocs to protect me from these viruses). I did
the classy thing and holding onto my dignity I took a discreet wee down my leg.
Nobody none the wiser.

PART208 Mums birthday


Wednesday, 25th, august, 2010. A
mere day later, yet again I cannot remember the day before, even Sarah with her
superior mathematical Chinese brain cannot. Let me squeeze the bean for a
momento….well it’s not really coming back But I am sure I went through the
basics. Eat, sleep, loo, read. I do know that I didn’t write much. I didn’t do
Taiji either. THAT’S IT! It was Mums birthday and after she came back late and
after she cooked and cleaned and then after the meal cleaned again she finally
was roped into dividing the cake. I was a bit angry with her. She had been at work
for 3 days straight without a break and then on her birthday she comes home
late, cooks eats cleans and then tries to get on with other parts of house
cleaning. I mean who does she think she is (or who does she want us to think
she is?) super woman? Seriously it’s your birthday why are you cleaning the
bathroom? Do you want a medal? Its very impressive how much she works but
really I think it borders on a disorder of some kind. I want some of your birthday
cake. That’s all I can remember. All I can remember is wanting cake. Some days
just have more in them than others. I don’t look after my brain but I really
wish it was so much better than the irretentive mush I am stuck with now.

PART207 Dick in the park


Tuesday, 24th, August, 2010. Another
quiet day. I went for a massage and Sarah came along bringing Bojang who immediately
took cover under the sofa until the end of my massage when I lifted it up and snatched
the filthy little bugger out of his hiding hole. He obviously isn’t ready for
getting out of the house yet. Dad cooked rabbit today and apart from smelling
like cat food it tasted really good. Nice and soft and with a mild flavor. Very
pleasant indeed. Then to the park for Taiji in the evening. I was enjoying
watching and correcting Sarah’s form when a tall fat young man waddled up with
his hands arrogantly placed behind his head. He watched at close range, which
always pisses me off greatly even though I know it’s not rude in China. Then he
spoke to Sarah saying it was bad that a foreigner was teaching a Chinese Taiji.

 

“Why is it bad?” I asked, getting involved

 

“It’s just a shame” he replied

 

“do you know Taiji?” I asked back, not
liking him one bit

 

The answer was no.

 

“a lot of Chinese do not know Taiji” I
snapped back at him

 

“Yes they are too busy studying” he said
with disinterest taking off his glasses and showing them to me. I was furious,
this fat fuck who didn’t know any Taiji himself had the audacity to come up to
me while I was teaching and say that it was a shame that me as a foreigner was
teaching Taiji. What? So Chinese should not teach yoga? Only native people
should teach their own countries skills? I suppose you also think I should not
be in a relationship with a Chinese as well? Do you think Chinese are better
than foreigners at Taiji?.

 

Then why do we beat you all in competitions?
How come I have never seen a Chinese in an MMA fight?. How come foreigners also
beat you in form competitions? Foreigners are one of the reason why real Taiji
is actually being kept alive in the world as opposed to turning into a
castrated wushu form like so many other martial arts in your country which
where stamped out by Chinese, shriveled up died and them cobbled back together
by a bunch of idiot officials who didn’t know their ear hole from their arse
hole and turned it into some meaningless dance. Well fuck you and fuck off. I
am sick of this ignorant racism. I boiled with fury and did a very angry version
of the fast form which felt really good and then we went back home and I cooled
off.

PART206 a quiet day


Monday, 23rd, August, 2010. A
quiet day compared to the hectic running around of the weekend. I am grateful
for it. Bojang continues to get bolder and bolder every minute. Turning from a
quivering ball of fur into a real kitten. Rambunshously nipping at my arms and
ears this morning meowing incessantly to get me out of bed to play. My defense
was a sharp blow in his face which sent him recoiling then I would brush him of
the bed and go back to sleep for a few minutes before he launched another assault.
I hardly ate anything and I certainly didn’t drink anything today, letting my
inside take a day off. Sarah and I went to the park again in the evening and practiced
Taiji. Even though I was hot and sweaty I didn’t have the prickly heat rash. A
bowl of noodles at the night market them home and bed and ear and elbow biting
ensued.