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BrysonMC
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Name: Mat
Country: Taiwan
Metro: Taipei
Birthday: 10/12/1974
Gender: Male
Expertise: Changing in phone booths, outrunning locomotives and once in a while I like to jump over a few builings... you know, just to keep in shape.
Occupation: Education/training
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
9/23/2002
 Lifetime
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"Some Mornings It Just Doesn't Seem Worth it to Gnaw Through the Leather Straps."- Emo Phillips
"For a Long Time Now I Have Tried to Write the Best I Can. Sometimes I Have Good Luck and Write Better Than I Can."- Ernest Hemingway
"Nothing Worth Having Comes Without Some Kind of Fight. You've Got To Kick at the Darkness Till it Bleeds Daylight."- Bruce Cockburn
"Don't Worry About the World Coing to an End Toady. It's Already Tomorrow in Australia."- Charles M. Shultz
All writing on this site, unless stated otherwise is written by and the copyrighted property of Mat Thompson. Please do not reprint any of my material without my consent.
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| It's Just a Cat...
I went to the bridge tonight to see all my cats. I fed 33 cats, a little more than usual, but Bunny had two kittens recently, the other two kittens have grown up and begun to fend for themselves, and of course there are a few new faces here and there... some will stay and some will go. All the rest of the usual prides were there, ready for food, attention, affection and just a little bit of time to take them out of the world they live in and be loved, if even for only a moment.
As I entered the area of the Hill Pride I saw a new face a little ways down the path. As I moved closer, he kept his eyes on me, wondering why I was calling cats. At first I had to take a second look as he looked so much like Big Head, one of our first catches who we lost about a year ago. I called to him and he just watched me. As I looked at him I knew there was something different, something that wasn't the same in his look. He looked lost. Like a lost child who just realized that his mother is not standing by his side in the grocery store and doesn't know yet how to react. I called again and threw him a little food, just to draw him closer.
He came foe the food and I could hear his breathing. It was obvious he has some sort of a cold and was stuffed up. He ate the little bit of food as I turned to feed Crazy Mama and Crazy their dinners. As I turned back the new guy was right beside me. I went to give him more food and he climbed into my lap and curled up in a ball and began to purr. I have worked for over a year now with these street cats and maybe five out of forty would climb into my lap, but it would take a lot of coaxing and calming. This cat knew that there was safety in a person's lap.
He never bit, scratched or did anything but purr and sleep. I sat there for over forty minutes, petting him, telling him it would be okay and that he was in a good area for cats to live and get fed. I wiped his nose and eyes, trying to clear him up a bit and he just sat there, looking up at me, wondering where the last person went whose lap he sat in. Wondering why they haven't come back to let him sit with them again. Probably wondering what he did.
I picked him up and set him down beside me so I could go and see the other cats on my route and before I could even stand, he was back on my lap, laying down the best he could to keep me there, to keep the warmth and keep the only place he has felt safe real and a part of him. I sat for ten minutes longer.
Whenever I walk away from the different street cats and the different prides, I know the looks I am going to get. Some want more food, some want more attention and some just look at me with a thankful look like they know they will be seeing me again soon. Each and every cat there knows their situation and the world they live in and I am just a visitor... a friend. But this cat, it just seemed like he didn't understand. I felt like I was doing more harm by walking away, making him believe that more people are just going to walk out on him. If he was a child I know he would have been crying... I almost was.
Half the cats at the bridge are dumped pets, and the rest are born and raised there. The dumped ones have a little more trust for people, but you have to earn it. The ones born there, it takes time to build up trust and a relationship with them. Some take weeks, some months, and some more than a year before you can even give their back a quick pet as they eat. This guy hasn't realized it yet, he doesn't know this is now his world. He still longs for a sofa, a blanket, a warm lap, someone to sleep with, someone to feed him, someone for him to give his unconditional love to every day or just someone to be there for him, in a house where he is safe.
This guy really got to me. I guess I have never come across a cat so new to the environment... so lost. I can only see it going downhill from here. He will learn not to trust people as much and will have to learn when to trust and when not to. Taiwanese people are not so good with street animals and will chase them away out of fear for themselves. Over the next few days he will approach people for even the smallest hope of affection and he will be met with actions that will instill fear in him. The new animals, the cats and dogs of the area will see him as a new threat and he will have to learn to fight, and fend for himself. He can join one of the prides, but it isn't as easy as asking for a membership card. He will have to earn his way in, which will include a lot of cat fights and being chased. He is going to have to learn about the feeding ladies, and how they ring a small bell each night for the cats to come. His food won't be in a nice bowl anymore and he will have to eat what he can get with the rest of the cats. If he's smart, he will adapt... but why should he?
I want someone to tell me what he did. A cat this affectionate should not be where he is right now. Did he not use the litter box every time? Did he scratch the sofa? Did he knock a picture off a shelf or chew on the cord to your computer? Did he do the things that cats do and you just couldn't handle that an animals will do things you can't always control? Did he have fleas? Did he catch a cold and you didn't want to take him to the vet? Was he too mouthy when he was happy to see you? Did he want to sleep on your lap and show you thanks for everything you give him too much? Did he take too much of the covers while you slept? What? Give me a reason that is rational and true and maybe I can accept it... but tell it to me while he is curled up in a ball, on your lap, purring because even that simple action makes him feel like his whole world is safe and nothing could ever go wrong.
Did you take him off your lap and put him in the carrier to dump him, or did you explain to him why first? Can you imagine your parents taking you from your house when you were young and just driving you somewhere and leaving you there? Oh, it's just a cat, it's different. Not in my eyes. No cat is just a cat. No dog is just a dog. No animal is just an animal.
My Bubba used to curl up in my lap the exact same way when he lived with me. What I wouldn't do right now to have him in my lap as I sit here, but I lost him to a brain tumor that turned him from loving to a very scared, violent cat. But at times, he still new my lap was safe. He knew, even when he didn't know much, to climb onto my lap was the one place where he didn't have to be scared of anything. He's gone because if was the right thing to do for him, but I took that day off work and I layed on the couch all day with him. He slept on my lap, he curled up with me on the couch and I cried all day, telling him he was going to be better soon. My sister had to come with me so I wouldn't back out and I watched the light in his eyes go out in the end. I never left his side, no matter how bad he got, and the vet even let me take him with me (against regulation) so he could be buried with Tiger and Whiskey (and now George) in my family's backyard. Even now, he's still with me in many ways, so I ask you again... what did this cat do to deserve being put somewhere to survive on his own after living his live in a home?
The answer is simple... absolutely nothing. I can even use the answer many people would give me for this... he's just a cat, which to me means there isn't a single thing that he could do to deserve being treated like yesterdays garbage. I hope soon he'll forget those people, not because he should, but because I don't want him to be sitting every night, on a boardwalk by the river, wondering if they are ever coming back, and wondering what he did to make them leave him there. He deserves better. They all do...
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It's been more than two months since I was in India. Everyone asks me about it and why I don't have any pictures up, or anything written about it. Well... I think sometimes you can't fully appreciate where you were until some time has passed.
We spent two weeks in India. It was part of one of the longest vacations I have ever taken, the first real trip for Eva and I, and really some of the best and worst times I have ever spent. My words for the last two months about India... it sucked.
I can't help it. It was hard. I was on drugs that were supposed to keep me from becoming sick, but instead they put me into a depressive phase that made it hard to even enjoy the best of times on the trip sometimes. Other times, it was just the sheer overwhelming shock and awe of it all. Even with emotional responses dulled by little doctor prescribed capsules, India broke through and made us fight, yell, scream, cry and absolutely stand in awe of the good, the bad and the ugly. Different parts of India can bring out the worst in you. You cannot... and I mean cannot in any way put yourself into the place of the people you see and understand why they are following you, putting their hands out to you, or harassing you to the point you want to strike them down when all they want is food or money.
Everyone had their hand out, from beggars to the person who opened a door for you at a roadside bathroom. People expected gratitude in the form of money at every turn for even the most simple things. That man opened your door, give him some money. That girl moved some sticks out of your way so you didn't walk on them... give her some money. A man sweeping the ground outside a tomb tells you a quick, over rehearsed tow minute speech about the tomb you are about to see, then asks for money. And when you give him a dollar or two, he says he usually gets more than that and offers to give you change for a ten.
Tour guides, paid by the company we paid for part of the trip expected large amounts of money for bored, zombie-like tours of places that were easier to see and more fun to tour without them. one guide actually told us we were wasting his time by not accepting his tour and going on our own... and he asked for money when we finished. Our driver was tipped very well for the trip, but was always talking about extra expenses he was having, and telling us about how much his rent was per month and how much it cost to have a family in Delhi. In the end he was upset about the low tip, which was equivillant of his monthly rent... just not enough for him I guess.
We saw many sites between fending off guides, touts, beggars, purse snatchers (not a very good one at that) and everyone man in India who wanted a picture with the beautiful Asian girl even when she told them no. We went to Agra to see the Taj Mahal, which was a beautiful place but began our less than thrilling ride through guides and tours that just weren't for us. not all tourists are the same, and we didn't fit the mold they expected.
We went to Jaipur, Pushkar, Udaipur, all beautiful places which have places I will remember more over time than the other, more dominant memories. Waiting at the side of the road for an elephant to pass before shopping for camel leather books will soon be the memory that blocks out the drug dealer lined streets. A small samosa stand with workers who were so happy to serve us fresh, hot samosas for less than what you would pay for a stick of gum, then smile when the saw how much we enjoyed the first, steaming hot bite will blur the memory of a so-called monk who was insulting and pushy when we didn't have more than a small amount to give on the banks of the ghats in the holy town of Pushkar. A group of men attempting to swarm me as I reached in my pocket for some money to buy some food for the two of us (luckily I noticed and walked away quickly) may fade the back while I remember the boys all seeing Eva in Haridwar and each began to do the best flips and dives they could do into the Ganges to get her to notice them.
All the memories remain. Eva looking like she was going to tear my head off and eat it for dinner when she found out Rishikesh was a vegetarian city and no meat could be consumed there. Walking almost three to four kilometers up a mountain trying to find an old, rundown ashram, finally giving up and walking back down to discover the road to the ashram was right outside of the town. The heat and sore muscles of that day will become second to the small stream that ran across the orad in a shaded area, just deep enough to cover your feet and cool off your entire body with the cool crispness of fresh mountain water that began somewhere higher up in the Himalayas and would end up flowing through India and past thousands as it becomes part of the Ganges. Actually I do enjoy that thought... my feet... my sore, aching feet touched that water first, before flowing along the mightiest holy river on our planet.
And what made me finally want to write about this? These words...
Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup They slither while they pass They slip away across the universe Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting thorough my open mind Possessing and caressing me Jai guru deva om We walked up and down a mountain, drank numerous bottles of water, found the greatest little roadside sugar cookie stand which I would probably return to India just to eat from again, stood in the Ganges River and talked to who knows how many people, and even had to bribe a so-called security man to be able to enter the grounds of an old ashram on the banks of the Ganges river. Why? John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr... that's why. The Maharishi Mahesh Yogi Ashram is now in worse condition than most of the temples in Cambodia, but just walking through the gates and up into the massive overgrown compound was amazing. The place had a feeling about it, like the energy inside those gates was still there and would always be buzzing around because something amazing was created there. Most of The White Album was written inside those gates. And it's not even that. Writers know you can't just write anywhere... you have to feel the inspiration of a place, and even almost forty years later, you can feel it. It's there, you just have to know what to look for and how to grasp it. The roads were gone, the buildings falling down and more than 50% of it is either hidden or impossible to get to. We stood in houses, dorms, halls and fields, and with one simple little step, I found the way to to the main hall where Maharishi Mahesh held ceremonies for the masses who stayed there. I'm not even the biggest Beatles fan... I'll admit that if you ask me that (annoying) age-old question of Beatles or Stones, I go the other way. But this place helped create While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Helter Skelter, Revolution, Rocky Racoon, Blackbird, Sexy Sadie, Happiness is a Warm Gun, Dear Prudence and one of my all time favorites Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. Even the strangely named Everyone's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey came from within those gates. Maybe it ended badly, and they left early. Maybe things were said and allegations were made about the ashram, but in the time they were there, they harnessed it and made it their own. There is a lot of energy in that place, even now. I think it's the people who seek it out and want to just stand where Lennon stood, or walk where McCartney walked, or sit by a tree where Harrison played his guitar, or just dream of being one of the Beatles... like Ringo did (sorry), that keep that energy, that flow in the air, the ground, the trees and the rotting walls of the long-since used buildings alive and well after all these years. Our two days in Rishikesh and the small amount of time spent inside the grounds of what is now known as The Beatles Ashram are the things that make me smile and wish I was still there... even if the rest of the trip is still fresh in my memory.
A few photos from inside the Ashram grounds...        The picture above is the main road through the Ashram. Without the gates at the end you would never know it!  And how could I leave out the greatest sugar cookies in the world...   More on Rishikesh and the Ashram later... | | |
| Things I never imagined saying in my life...
'I have to fly to Borneo on Saturday for a wedding, but I should be back by Monday night.'Don't worry Mom, it's not until January, it's not my wedding and we won't be sleeping in huts on the beach like those Survivor people!!!
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|  Who Said TV Doesn't Teach Us Anything?
The Dukes of Hazzard was a show I never missed. I was even a fan during the very strange and often forgotten Coy and Vance year when Schneider and Wopat believed they were bigger than the product, and proved they kinda were. I remember learning a lot of things from that show...
- The proper way to slide across the hood of a car in jeans without scratching the paint with the little metal studs they put in the pockets (it took a lot of practice on my parents old red Dodge to perfect that one)
- How to use a bow and arrow and a stick of dynamite to blow up sheds... of course plastic arrows and firecrackers always go off early and leave hand scars and hearing damage behind
- Hot cousins are more cousin than hot... even if they are really hot
- And, the lesson that held true today... Police cannot chase you across county lines!!!
Well, I'm not sure if it is true or not, but after making an illegal right hand turn on a red right in front of a police officer today, this lesson of Hazzard County came to fruition. Actually after seeing him out of the corner of my eye I just kept going forward, not looking into my mirrors or anywhere but forward. The truth is even if he did pull me over, he would have just told me to go since 98% of all cops in Taipei don't speak any English, but it was raining and I wanted to get home before I got any wetter.
I think he honked his horn at me a few times, but with my iPod on (kinda illegal as well) I wasn't sure. I'm pretty sure he got right up beside me as well, but I could only see him out of the corner of my eye since I refused to turn to look at him. I also think he was about to pull me over when traffic was stopped and I ducked beside a stopped bus, skidded through the middle of the two lanes of stopped traffic only clipping one taxi's side mirror and turning down a one way (the other way) alley by McDonald's. I emerged one block up (one again making an illegal right... just for fun this time) and crossing the bridge into Taipei County... new jurisdiction and no cops Roscoe and Flash waiting for me.
I actually didn't even think about the whole city to county thing until I was on the bridge and saw the sign, 'Welcome to Taipei County' and the first thing that ran through my mind was Roscoe P. Coletrain slamming on the breaks and not being able to chase the Dukes across county lines. I felt very much like a long lost Duke cousin lost in Asia. too bad I didn't have the plaid shirt and tight jeans on to make it authentic. But at least I know, I'm still just a good ol' boy, never meaning no harm...
Oh, and I made three more illegal turns in the county as well. If the cops in Taipei City are like Roscoe, they are even more like Enos and Cletus in Taipei County!
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| Just another October 12th???
- I opened a drawer in the desk of our hotel this morning just before checking out and there was 35nt (cents) in it in a nice neat row
- At the hospital today I had to wait to get my medication and the number I was given was 1974
- My motorcycle mechanics sang Happy Birthday to me while changing my oil and giving my bike a free tune up
It was a good day...
 Me and the boys and my birthday cakes... | | |
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