Chapter III
William S. Burroughs, James Joyce, Lezama and many other historic wankers of the literature wrote things that didn’t follow any order or human logic and they got away with it very well. Still nowadays numerous people quote them or talk about this and that other book from them when they want to bed someone, pretending to be so intellectual. Yuk. If they were allowed to do that (and they are even well regarded because of it), I guess I can jump a bit back in time and nobody is going to complain, right?
So I was riding my motorcycle in Taipei city (I mean what you would call Taipei proper, where the “nice” buildings can be found, scattered among the shitty concrete, dirty toilet looking ones), and I was complaining about traffic and Taiwanese driving manners to my passenger. “They are animals”, “look at that reckless idiot”, “Taiwanese can’t ride”. Then there was this guy who pissed me off more than the rest. I could attempt to give a description based on my very blurry and inaccurate memory, but I will just say that he was the typical Betle nut chewer, and that’s all what you need for having an effective yet abstract image of the guy. Ok, I will say he was fat, gross, wearing some crappy clothes (crappier than mine), and there was a really crappy egg shell style helmet on the top of his stupid head.
The guy was dribbling the traffic like an idiot, not just because he was doing it but because he was passing so close to other vehicles, and cutting others’ way. My level of anger was raising, I was truly hating him. For some reason to take a Taiwanese passenger on my bike has that effect on me: even more rage against Taiwanse drivers and riders.
I know that I have lost half of my readers by now, so I will try to keep it short. The idiot was what I call a traffic light racer. He opens throttle, wide open, a second before the traffic light turns green, accelerates in a way that he will need to replace his engine soon (or perhaps steal another scooter), and that only to have to stop a few seconds later because the next traffic light is red… as he could have known if he were paying any attention at all.
So we are in this traffic light. He opens gas, releasing some dark smoke and passing too close to the vehicles around, I open gas a bit later too, and ride a bit fast but not too much. He adopts a super aerodynamic posture, which consists in putting his neck in parallel to the ground, opening the legs like if he were receiving a blow job, and popping out his tongue in one side of the mouth. He’s fast! I’m a bit behind him, in another lane. Then it happens. His shitty helmet flies away, and I start to laugh as loud as I can, so that he can hear me for sure “AAAAAH HAAAAA HAAAA HAAAA HAAAAAAA”. I even point at him and laugh like a possessed retarded “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH IDIOOOOOOOOOT”.
Then a red light.
Then I think of an angry fat betle nut chewer punching me with his red mouth full open while swearing in some dialect of the language of Mordor.
I jump the red doing a right turn and come up with a combination of U turns and apologize to my passenger for being an idiot.
