dennissweeney

Posts Tagged ‘time’

Day 364 (The Things You Forget About)

In Taipei on August 17, 2011 at 9:40 pm

Before I came to Taiwan I was nervous about how I would find books and I did some research into where I could find books and the internet reported that there was a book trade every Sunday at Grandma Nitti’s although it seemed debatable whether it still existed and it was never confirmed by anything associated with the place itself. When I arrived I found a few other places that sold books, Inma signed me up with the library, and I more or less forgot about it.

It is a year later. We search for a Greek place and we see the awning on a street in Shida that I do not recall ever having been down before, even though I have been to Shida countless times. It says: Grandma Nitti’s. On it is the bespectacled face of a grandma. This is it.

I think how one year ago I was trying to envision what this place looked like, what sort of street it was on, what its books were like, who Grandma Nitti was.

I thought it must be on a sidestreet somewhere have a yellow awning and be musty and closed-feeling inside, with a big table near the entrance where people would spread their books. I thought Grandma Nitti was a middle-aged man.

I know now that there are no sidestreets, that the awning is off-white, that it is open and Greek-feeling within, and that the books, at least now, are on a single set of shelves when you walk into the restaurant. Grandma Nitti is a Taiwanese woman named Rainbow.

They have Granta 90. It is NT$50. Needless to say, after we eat our nachos and spinach-eggplant lasagna and our breakfast burrito, I buy it.

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Day 259 (Inertia)

In Taipei on May 3, 2011 at 11:31 pm

The clock says 3:49. I’ll get going soon. A few more clicks on the old interwebs.

The clock says 4:12. Goodness. Time flies. My eyes have been glued for the last twenty minutes and I didn’t even feel them burning like light bulbs. Twenty minutes and it is as if they are nearly burned out. You know, I could be perverse and stay here in front of this screen and while away the next fifty minutes so they hardly exist, scrapping the plan to go in to work and get things done by the sheer weight of inaction. I don’t even have to do anything to ruin myself. Such an effect, so hands-off. It’s decadent. It’s sloppily sexy, the promise of wastefulness.

The clock says 4:39. Oh no. You make up these scenarios so you won’t fulfill them and then you do. You’ve lost minutes of your life. Get up. Go to work. One more click. No. Go to work. Put a shirt on. Good grief.

Day 46 (Go Reds!)

In Taipei on October 3, 2010 at 1:53 am

There is deep, deep concentration in my taking each individual bubble from the bubble tea by the angular tip of my straw, retaining it precariously against the side of the glass glass as I drag it upward, dumping out extraneous tea, and sucking the bubble into my mouth, as deliberately but as expeditiously as possible before the last MRT train leaves the station.

The receptors that have taken in seven hours in the classroom today and many more awake, on tired feet, hit the breaks again. Time slows for the millionth time.

Some of us still live by the day, or even by the ball of tapioca.