Chapter 298

I put my alarm a bit earlier than usual, as I wanted to go to school and catch the opening parade for Sports Day. Every class marches one by one around the athletic track, dressed in all sorts of costumes, usually patriotic stuff. You have soldiers in modern camo or olive drabs from the 1930s, whole groups of astronauts and scientists, construction workers, people wearing matching Olympic athlete tracksuits, etc. Then, once all the groups from seventh to twelfth grades have assembled, they stand at attention for the flag raising while the national anthem plays. I felt an electrifying shiver of 爱国主义 going down my spine.

So there are no classes for the next two days. Oh no. It meant I had to sit around the office, listen to music, and work on my own writing projects. Bummer. I listened to more Chinese black metal, and also checked out the new album by French grindcore/powerviolence band Gummo. I had listened to another LP of theirs and thought it was OK, not much more than that, but the new one is a serious kick in the teeth and all my homies are raving about it.

With the nod from the principal, I took that opportunity to do some bank duties in the afternoon. First I had to print some tax forms, but I still had to go hunt for the almighty red rubber stamp, a mainstay of Chinese bureaucracy, in the main school building I rarely visit. After a sandwich lunch at home, I rode the longboard to the bank, which has been completely renovated. I got ushered to a counter, manned by a young male clerk who opened his eyes wide and had a “Ho nooooo you motherfucker, I am NOT going to serve you today, hoooo noooooo I won’t” expression on his face. I foresaw the worst. He started asking me for a bunch of documents he doesn’t need, but I called every bluff of his and eventually he admitted defeat and was forced to do his job and change all my RMB into Canadian dollars in my foreign currency account. Then I went upstairs and did my remittance.

I rode the longboard on this very pleasant afternoon to the car repair shop. We now have a brand new headlight, but the other headlight, though functional, is all scratched up so we have one light that’s really bright and one that’s all dimmed. Tranche de vie.

Pretty damn tired, I took a nap and got up to go to the gym. I trained some X-guard wizard shit with the blue belts, then rolled a round against each. They’re all better than me of course, but I can do things against them that I used to not be able to. A good time was had by all.

The girlfriend and the dog came to meet me at the park, then we went home. I ate some fried rice she made, with rubbery meatballs, and watched a thought-provoking video by John Doyle about the false dichotomy between individualism and collectivism, something I’d been thinking about a lot, especially when I look at the pros and cons of the Chinese political system contrasted with American-style conservatism, the Quebec social-democrat model and my general desire to be left the fuck alone while understanding that pure hedonism leads to a lack of sense of purpose and the disintegration of society.

Before going to bed, I checked my inbox, and there was a mass e-mail from a former disgruntled teacher in my network of schools. It was a grievance letter about his principal being an unprofessional dick, with tons of juicy examples, and he even attached some sound files of the said principal recorded unwittingly. The reason he sent it to the whole e-mail list is because he was unhappy at how the corporate office buried the story, now, that’s what we call burning a bridge.

I went to bed and kept reading Le Plongeur. The main character is a dishwasher and prep cook in a Montreal restaurant, and all the kitchen stories remind me of my own few months I spent working in a restaurant, back in the day. I can’t say I miss it, it’s some real non-stop stressful fucken hard work and you’re paid peanuts, but it’s also fun in a way, and the camaraderie bonds with the other poor fucks toiling in the kitchen are strong.