I am in Taipei, where last weekend we performed at the Taipei Arts Festival. There were other things I was planning to write about and quote from, but it now seems misguided to write about anything other than the fact that I’ve spent the last nine days here. Some scattered notes:

In the English bookstore in Taipei 101, the tallest tower with the fastest elevator, a young local wants to read some stories in English and is looking for suggestions. An older, pretentious employee walks him through the shelves, describing the books as he goes: J.D. Salinger, Kurt Vonnegut, George Orwell. I eavesdrop and wonder what these books might mean here, feeling certain, yet not confident, they mean something different.

On the street an old man with four or five small birds in red mesh bags on the ground in front of him. The birds are eating seeds. I don’t know if the birds are for sale and if so if they’re for sale as pets or for luck. Or if he is begging and the birds are simply props. The birds in red mesh bags are one of the most striking, fascinating images I have seen in recent memory and, of course, everyone walks by without notice. It must be normal here but I only see it once. (If I moved here I would probably stop noticing such things within a couple of months.)

In an underground passage way/mall there is a large room full of mirrors. In front of each mirror a group of teenagers are playfully practicing synchronized dance routines, like the ones from hip hop and r&b videos. The teenagers are relaxed but it seems they’ve been at it for hours. They are having fun but really want to get it right. Overhead, at sporadic intervals, mist sprays into the room, most likely to keep it from getting too dry. And yet it seems to me the mist is for effect, like in any good music video. In the corner, on the ground, a few teenagers sleep at awkward angles.

So many streets with no sidewalks, pulling yourself towards the buildings to let each car by.

After our opening night several young women from the audience want to have their pictures taken with us. (For example, this one here.) I assume this is normal after a show in Taipei, but the festival director assures us that it’s not, that she’s never seen it before. Making me wonder what else here I assume is normal is only happening at this particular moment, or because I’m present. (Because a foreigner is present.)

All the food I order is a considerably hotter temperature than the food back home. I keep burning my mouth. And everything I eat, though I often have almost no idea what it is, is completely amazing.

And everywhere I go there are stores open late into the night and people trying to sell you things (in a relaxed, friendly way.) For me, the hectic streets remove all desire to shop, reminding me of this quote from Mark Fisher about call centers, how they are so “fixated on making profits that they can’t actually sell you anything.” It seems one of the main social activities here are the night markets: an endless, crowded walk through jovial shopping hell. (Karaoke is also very popular.)

I feel like I’ve hit capitalism run amok but, once again, find myself not sure if my impressions are sending me in the right direction or if I’m only projecting. As everyone knows I’ve got capitalism on the brain, and am almost comically convinced that it is an eternal and wretched curse on humanity. Yet the people here seem relaxed and okay. Yes, it’s also true that everyone I’ve met complains about being overworked. As an artist it seems you really have to scramble just to make rent. (And artists don’t feel the worst of it.)

“Rich people here are so rich,” someone tells me, and continues to explain that most of them made their money in the recent boom, those days are completely over, and if you’re young and rich in Taiwan today it’s because you were born that way. (In an Ihara Saikaku book I bought at the previously mentioned bookstore I read this quote from 1693: “Contrary to former times, this is an age in which money begets money. Today it is the man of common ability with capital, rather than the man of rare ability with no capital, who gains profit.” It reminds me both of today and of Taipei.) I wonder if I have any of this right. Chaos is lively. The energy here feels good but I believe this is in spite, not because, of the socio-economic situation. And, most likely, I simply haven’t visited the areas where it hurts.

I don’t know what Taipei has to do with Steirischer Herbst, but you have to work from where you are, even if where you are is lost. Tomorrow I go to Groningen.

P.S. While I was in Taipei they were rioting in London and I was reading about it, every day, on the internet. I think the best article I read was this one here.