I get off the MRT and cut through the streets, alleys and laneways into the building and up to my office on the seventh floor. On the way, I stop first for a big cup of sweet soya milk, then go through a bakery for a couple of mystery buns – I could read and learn what they are, but my theory of food is that if other people eat it, then I can eat it too.
As an aside, I once had a girlfriend who’s theory of sex was that if it fit there, then it was suppose to go there.
There are only two things that matter — sex and money. Food is a subset of sex. As is music, travel, and rodeo clowns. Sex is emotion whereas money is logic. Rationality, power, cold hard cash. Money is boring. Sex is fun.
By the time I sit down at my desk, my soya milk has cooled enough that I can drink it. It has a thin skin, which I try most days in vain to suck up in one big gulp. Otherwise it sticks to the side of the cup looking like a beautiful piece of chicken skin, one that you would find floating in a broth soup.
I’ve been blogging since 1999. I like having an anonymous blog if only so that I can go back from time to time to rediscover what I was thinking. I wrote my first blog post almost exactly twenty years ago in a downtown Taipei office, on the seventh floor as a big cup of soya milk cooled, developing a thin sweet skin, difficult but not impossible to suck up. Like sex, it’s all about technique, most things are.