So Many An Ydel Thoght

[Taipei, 10/4/24]

Purely for defaute of slepe, of course. I start this article at 3:54AM. Pale Face and Tank Top haven’t shown up. Two days ago, I did talk to the laptop dealer across the street about Taiwan. He’s the one with a sexlingual daughter in Ireland. Though never traveled, he’s curious enough about alien places. Most people aren’t.

Seconds after closing a book, almost nothing of it remains. It’s not just because there’s another book, but because your mind must also contend with random noises, excellent or regrettable meals, idiotic interjections, motorists going the wrong way, memories of mini skirts, snatches of lyrics, bad weather and dreams of death, etc. It’s a miracle anyone can remember his own name at the end of each day. Most people don’t.

Preempting others, a seller of lottery tickets has appeared. She’s always in a Chinese top that buttons from the left, with small exposed triangles of skin at the sides. Buying bad luck, a regular customer teases, “Marriage is a burden, no?”

She smiles.

“But there are also moments of bliss?”

Smiling even more wanly, she rides into the darkness on her old bicycle. So many tickets must be sold.

Again, Chaucer, “To speke of wo that is in mariage.” That didn’t prevent the wife of Bath from shacking up five times, and not just because “the firste nyght had many a myrie fit.”

Before Taiwan disappears completely, let me record some last observations. Everywhere, Taiwanese are told to behave. In Taipei’s subways, large lit tableaux always show the miscreant as traditionally dressed. Garishly theatrical, they’re much more outlandish than the Vung Tau seller of lottery tickets. So over the top, they’re literally cartoons. Everyone else, aghast, is in Western clothing and soberly photographed.

“Do not eat or drink on the Metro.” “Mind your personal belongings to avoid disrupting other passengers.” “In consideration of others, please remove your backpack and carry it by hand when entering Metro cars.” Beyond any literal admonition is the directive to stop being so Chinese.

In 1970, Chiang Kai-Shek was on all 11 Taiwanese banknotes. Now, he graces or haunts just one of five. By contrast, Ho Chi Minh is on all six Vietnamese bills. Checking just now, I’m surprised Kim Jong Un isn’t on any North Korean one. Don’t you dare suggest he’s too fat to fit. How come only white cisgender slave owning and wife beating men are on American fiat toilet paper? Riots must break out to demand RuPaul, Kamala Harris, Lori Lightfoot, Sheng Thao and Rachel Levine be permanently enshrined on American cash.

Most Chiang Kai-Shek statues are also gone. This I only found out from Frank, an American who has lived in Taiwan for 36 years. On my last evening in Taipei, Frank and his wife, Yu Mei, treated me to an excellent Italian-American meal at Amore. Tucked in an alley, it took a few minutes to locate. The owner and chef is a Taiwanese with many years in North Jersey. He’s deadly serious about his pizza dough. I hadn’t had such a good calzone in years. Calzoni means trousers, by the way.

“Taipei has changed so much. We’re lost!” Frank laughed. He and Yu Mei live in Taoyuan.

“When was the last time you were in the US?”

“Eighteen years ago!”

“You don’t miss it?”

“No.”

Frank only went back in 2006 to see the woman who changed his diapers, his grandma, just before she passed. You’re so cattivo, Franco, for not always be within three blocks of your nonna!

Time for a South Philly joke. What do Jesus and a South Philly guy have in common? They hang out with just twelve guys and their moms think they’re god.

“Wow, Frank, I feel like I’m back in South Philly!” East Coast Italians don’t differ much. “My Philly landlord is from Puglia. When he found out I never got further than Napoli, he was very annoyed.” Frank laughed. His folks are from Messina.

Though Yu Mei’s English was fine, Frank spoke to her in Mandarin. Their older daughter is 26-years-old. Like many Taiwanese, she’s very fond of Japan. She was just there. Independent, she’s not eager for any marriage woe or bliss.

“My sister was like that,” Frank confided. “She had ten marriage proposals, from handsome, successful men, with each one better than the last. She turned them all down.”

“So what happened?”

“She ended up a cat lady, for decades!”

We all laughed.

Amore felt so cozy and the conversation so warm, I wouldn’t have minded just sitting there, but I had been up since before dawn, due to my defaute of slepe. Frank and Yu Mei also had to catch the last train.

With Frank staying away, Yu Mei has seen little of the USA. They’re going soon, though, to see one of Frank’s sisters, I think, in Florida.

“You should go out West,” I said to her. “The Southwest is so beautiful. The entire middle is so beautiful.”

As for Taiwan, Frank agrees with me that China may not attack, after all. Ignoring American provocation, China will just wait for the American empire to collapse. Time is on her side. Frank and Yu Mei are still moving out, however. They will buy a house in Greece. With Sicily so close by, they can hop over often.

Though very fond of Europe, I would not want to settle there. With continental war seeming inevitable, there will be floods of refugees even if your city is spared.

From balmy Vũng Tàu, I offer you these ydel thoghts. Even Chaucer fades. Words dies even as we speak. Most stories are never told, much less heard. Bits of America, upgraded, farcical or cheesed up, will persist thousands of miles from its spectacular death.

[Taipei, 9/4/24]

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