We develop our own coping rituals.
The first time I went to Korner in 2013, I drank so much that I ended up falling down a set of stairs and knocking out a tooth.
Maybe some will remember that I used to live here: Whatever happened to that guy who seemed to always be eating out of the same 7/11, perpetually ordering coffee at strange hours of the night?
I don’t have blind faith that the Han bubble will suddenly implode and people will wake up and smell the roses.
The plumber and my landlord began shouting at each other in Taiwanese, arguing about the pricing for the job.
The thought of spending one-third of one’s existence lying on a bed is unbearable to me.
Pub was unique in that it never closed until the last customer left, as a result of which it was routinely open until 6:00 or 7:00 a.m.
I spend a lot of time thinking about cute animals, a way to cope with the nullity of contemporary existence.
I'd find myself riding a bus with a friend's giant face on the side of it—a disconcerting feeling.