鬼打牆

非常倉促就又要過去的夏天。總算可以靜下來的時候卻又突然不知所措。非常突然的情人節和非常突然的人群組合在bloody情緒錯綜複雜的熟悉感中，喝著一杯很甜的比利時啤酒度過了。我和性未解的關係。k說我是在完全享受自己身體和情感的愉快之前就已經擁有太多理論的包袱了。於是腦子操控著身體。身體於是總是那麼彆扭地偷偷地為著自己的高潮而感到罪惡。坐著c的車，我也知道很多事不是回到過去就能解決的，但在徬徨的時候總仍是會偷偷地期許如此。

請在音樂中解放我吧。在這一種我從來不曾完全懂得的語言之中。才能得到放逐。

請好好地耐心地繼續愛我。在單方面的慾望之中我只能越來越感到孤寂迷惘

這個早晨在變換的城市區塊我想著《A Streetcar Named Desire》

情緒快要被內部的政治鬥爭消耗殆盡。其使我也會擔憂呀，離開了這個圈子以後，我還能在哪裡找到同志落足？妳們聽我說美國的運動史頭頭是道，但我自己的歸屬感又有幾分呢？

紐約什麼也沒有變。地下鐵的悶熱讓人煩躁。但我習慣了這個城市的匿名感。我可以是任合一種人，任何一種身分。即便是跨過了houston從壞情緒的當地人突然搖身變身成為消費觀觀客的樂趣。我們總是泡在傢具店內，熱衷討論著無法擁有的人生。

這次再飛回去，剩下三個禮拜在台灣，我能夠完成什麼呢？總是帶著這種被卡在時空中的情緒。有太多的歷史被翻攪卻不夠時間分析。太多的新關係來不及去好好解讀到貼心。我總是害怕失去了真誠了解的機會。你們會記得我嗎？我會記得妳們嗎？在忙碌之中，我很快地又會變成了我自己都不認識的陌生人，在城市中扮演著各個角色：助教、女朋友、好學生、大聲嚷嚷又愛抽煙的左翼青年、厭世的寫作者。我對生命的興趣被早晨的第一口咖啡的濃稠度給牽制著。

被自己的噪音包圍著

在腐蝕的意識下讓過高音量的音樂圍饒於我靈魂以不可觸及的疲憊部份。

我總算寫完了這兩年半遲緩難產而下的小說，然後呢？

可以再溫柔些嗎。

我們並肩隔距1.5公尺的走在深夜的大街。

我想著這一切的場景是如此熟悉又荒誕而陌生。

我對於故事結尾的偏執，

就和我對於故事開頭的強烈，

一般地固執。

is this how it's supposed to be?

it's been two weeks since i am working at the migrant group. i have to say that even though i thought i have some organizing experiences with me, i'm learning a lot. and i wonder why something that has been so hard to deal with back in the US, like privilege politics, racial/gendered relations, seem so easy here. and it's definitely not because this is a nationalist organization in anyway. i'm still figuring out what it is. they are productive, they rarely have conflicts, they are really good at what they do and they create all these fun projects with one another. they do music, theater, they protest, they deal with legal issues in the court. they write stories and then make documentaries. i almost wish i was growing up in the 80s in Taiwan, where things didn't seem as complicated and overwhelmed. there's not as much leftist baggage (except the chinese communist party), you just try different things and see if it works. you start to rally your classmates, and then your co-workers, and you walk to the capital, and you just decide to occupy it because the government officials weren't listening shit. you start to organize because your co-workers' arms are cut off but she only got $1000 from the government and then her whole life is pretty much ruined.

now i wonder if we can really create a tight revolutionary organization where people barely know one another and only know one another through politics. i believe it can happen for some people. but i wonder why there almost always seem to be more conflicts and self-doubts and backstabbing than friendship, care, or even just collective passion for an alternative way of life. if we have to feel policed by our comrades all the time, if our language is too reformist or too soft, then why the hell do this?

i'm really tired and never feel this alone. i feel more alone than the the time before i have my first queer community in the US. because i don't really know what community i belong anymore. i sensor myself everywhere. at home, at school, at work, over email. even in my novel, i cannot write the ending.

my uninvolvement in the city

i wake up around 5 every morning due to jet-lag. but i also like the morning in taipei because you can really feel like the city is about to rise to its full working potential while the subway is packed and people walking by you speedily. i feel instantly exhausted when i head out because of the heat. we took an one hour highway bus to Hsinchu, Ku and i discussed the sectarianism and the general uninvolvement in the Taiwanese left. 4 hour coalition meeting with concerned Catholic church Fathers and Sisters. Salvation Army-Taiwan wanted to join the coalition and "save" all the migrant sex workers. you can be saved as long as you are forever damaged. i ate instant ramen and kept sweating in this tiny forest of progressiveness and wondering if the Fathers wanted to save me big queer too. we took the train back to taipei and it was raining a little bit. i worry that another typhoon is coming soon. i passed out in bed by 9pm in a dream of sadness.

solidarity is a phantom concept.

i really appreciate these accidental friendships that seem to consolidate themselves into something larger with time.

you meet a lot of people in new york, millions of them everyday. in the anti-austerity rallies, union meetings, conferences, concerts, school bathrooms, parks, drag shows in brooklyn, subways...but rarely they stick around. they become something in the background of your reflection. and you forget their names the next time you seem them out of the original context.

yet perhaps its time. more and more of those people passing by start to stick around over late night politically-absurd low budget queer movies, over beers, conversations about the assimilationist neoliberal multiculturalism of the canadian state. they sort of stick on your mind for longer. and you think about them, you really appreciate having to know these people in your life, even in such brief moments.

i like to think that my consciousness is located in parts of these people. they make up the sense of my world. Vygotsky was right a long time ago, it's bullshift that there is any solitary individual existing in this world. we are all part of each other. it is that creepy.

rethink.

I've changed the layout for a new start. I buried my inner speech to deal with the stress for too long. I promise myself to write again this summer. No more anxiety about the definition of revolutionary. It's the vanguardist doctrine anyways. I need to read poetry and fiction. Life exists materially outside of the orthodox texts and confined ways of living.

I need to learn to how to be free in a nonfree world, from the left and the right.