A group of people hear rumors about a murdered woman in the woods, so I reluctantly join them on their search for the dead body. We find it a few minutes later, a blonde woman whose face is already decomposing and revealing some skull. I turn around, ready to run, and realize that the killer is back.
Members of the group scatter in all directions as the killer with long hair and wild eyes tries to hunt us down. I find a knife and stab him in the back. This transforms him into a hardcover book with a black and white book jacket. I stab the book some more, making a triangular flap, in case it comes back to life.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Hospital Evacuation
I’m in a hospital bed for some procedure, and there are tubes linked to various parts of my body and along my limbs. I want to get down from the bed and walk around a little, but the nurse tells me I can’t because my tubes link me to another patient. Soon I realize that the patient I am linked to is dead, and I am terrified. Afraid to look in that direction, I lie very still to avoid accidentally pulling the dead body close to me.
An alarm goes off in the hospital, and a voice says through the loudspeaker, “Everybody must evacuate right now. Please leave the hospital!” I’m worried about dragging the dead body behind me so I finally decide to rip the tubes off my body. No blood spurts out, thankfully, so I gather up my laptop and bag and leave with all the other people who are escaping from the hospital. I feel guilty about the patient I was linked to and never look at the dead body for fear of what I might see.
An alarm goes off in the hospital, and a voice says through the loudspeaker, “Everybody must evacuate right now. Please leave the hospital!” I’m worried about dragging the dead body behind me so I finally decide to rip the tubes off my body. No blood spurts out, thankfully, so I gather up my laptop and bag and leave with all the other people who are escaping from the hospital. I feel guilty about the patient I was linked to and never look at the dead body for fear of what I might see.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Alien Flight to Taiwan Dream
My girlfriend and I are trying to catch our flight to Taiwan. In the beginning I’m holding a duck head umbrella, but as we ran up the escalator it gets caught and I have to leave it behind. We rush around, checking to see how much time we have left, and we only have 19 minutes before the plane takes off.
We rush into an elevator and I thought we were supposed to go to the 18th floor, so I press 18, and then I realize that the building only has 16 stories because the elevator flies up past the roof and into the air before falling, vomiting my friend and I out. I think, “Crap, I hope my mistake didn’t kill her,” but she’s holding onto a lower part of the roof, as am I. A worker comes and helps us down. I tell him we are in a hurry to make our flight. He tells us to go to the 5th floor.
We take the stairs this time to the 5th floor, and when we walk out of the staircase we realize that we are in some kind of padded, bright blue martial arts arena. Some men in bright blue and red uniforms are sparring. I ask them where we can get our flight and they point to some lines that are separated by strings attached to movable metal poles.
“C,” he says.
We walk to that line and the sign says “C, interstellar Taiwan.” We walk into the line and by the time we walk to the end we disappear into another dimension, where our plane will take off. An alien woman who looks human is waiting for us. Turns out we are the only two people going to Taiwan, so there are two long, black armchairs she gestures for us to lie down on. We know that as soon as we lie down, we will be teleported to Taiwan.
We rush into an elevator and I thought we were supposed to go to the 18th floor, so I press 18, and then I realize that the building only has 16 stories because the elevator flies up past the roof and into the air before falling, vomiting my friend and I out. I think, “Crap, I hope my mistake didn’t kill her,” but she’s holding onto a lower part of the roof, as am I. A worker comes and helps us down. I tell him we are in a hurry to make our flight. He tells us to go to the 5th floor.
We take the stairs this time to the 5th floor, and when we walk out of the staircase we realize that we are in some kind of padded, bright blue martial arts arena. Some men in bright blue and red uniforms are sparring. I ask them where we can get our flight and they point to some lines that are separated by strings attached to movable metal poles.
“C,” he says.
We walk to that line and the sign says “C, interstellar Taiwan.” We walk into the line and by the time we walk to the end we disappear into another dimension, where our plane will take off. An alien woman who looks human is waiting for us. Turns out we are the only two people going to Taiwan, so there are two long, black armchairs she gestures for us to lie down on. We know that as soon as we lie down, we will be teleported to Taiwan.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Library Elevator to China Dream
My dad and I are in a fancy public library trying to get the head librarian to buy/shelf my poetry book. The head librarian says he will give me what I want if I help divide out a section of the library for "poetry, astrology, and fengshui." I ask him why poetry is going to be shelved with astrology and fengshui--they don't seem related. He told me that was his decision, and I agree to separate out poetry, astrology and fengshui books in the catalogue to put in the new section.
My dad and I leave and go to another library. We wait for a long time for the glass elevator, and when we get in, we notice that we need to get to the 80th floor. The elevator is moving very, very slowly and we can see the sky and birds outside. The elevator begins to move horizontally instead of vertically, and after a long time we realize that we missed our stop--when the elevator lets us out we find ourselves on the street, like we'd just gotten off a bus, but we are in China. We are in the middle of a Chinese military base somehow. A female officer in uniform, complete with a hat, salutes us as she marches by, legs stiff and knees locked.
My dad and I leave and go to another library. We wait for a long time for the glass elevator, and when we get in, we notice that we need to get to the 80th floor. The elevator is moving very, very slowly and we can see the sky and birds outside. The elevator begins to move horizontally instead of vertically, and after a long time we realize that we missed our stop--when the elevator lets us out we find ourselves on the street, like we'd just gotten off a bus, but we are in China. We are in the middle of a Chinese military base somehow. A female officer in uniform, complete with a hat, salutes us as she marches by, legs stiff and knees locked.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Psychokiller Striptease Dream
For some reason I am buying sheet sets from Ross late at night. The store is closed and all the lights are off, but an old manager with white hair is making me fill out a lot of forms to “make” that day’s inventory before I can pay for my sheets and leave.
When I get home, I see that my tutor is already there. I know that he is a psychokiller, and at the slightest provocation he will go crazy and attack everybody in my family, so I hide a paring knife underneath my notebook and approach him carefully. I’m posed to pare his heart out before he can make a move.
He tells me that I should take all of my clothes off item by item as a demonstration of deconstruction and that he would grade me on this assignment. I argue with him that he’s wrong, that when Barthes talked about the striptease, he was not talking about anything like this.
When I get home, I see that my tutor is already there. I know that he is a psychokiller, and at the slightest provocation he will go crazy and attack everybody in my family, so I hide a paring knife underneath my notebook and approach him carefully. I’m posed to pare his heart out before he can make a move.
He tells me that I should take all of my clothes off item by item as a demonstration of deconstruction and that he would grade me on this assignment. I argue with him that he’s wrong, that when Barthes talked about the striptease, he was not talking about anything like this.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Faceless Monster Dream
I’m in a very sanitized-looking, hotel-like dormitory. A man comes and delivers my food. I’m not supposed to look at him. It’s also my understanding that I am being held captive by the state government for some reason and any contact with the outside world is restricted. I don’t know what they are going to do with me.
Next time a man comes down and I open the double gates for him, he does not call my name. Instead, he says, “Come.” He says that my file has been mixed up with the file of a faceless monster and they need to talk to me in person to sort things out.
“I’m not a faceless monster,” I say to the detective I’m speaking to.
“I have a name, it has the character 鐵 [iron] in it,” I add, “I am not a nameless, faceless monster.”
But he flips open a magazine and shows me an advertisement of a woman offering sex for money. She is wearing a bikini, lying sideways in a provocative pose.
“You financed your facial reconstructive surgery with an ad just like this,” he said. “You’ve had surgery to fix your face many times.”
What he says sounds familiar but I really don’t remember doing these things, the sex ad or the reconstructive surgery.
“Does it still count if I don’t remember?” I ask.
“This is the 27th time we’ve caught you,” he said. “I can’t let you go anymore.”
Next time a man comes down and I open the double gates for him, he does not call my name. Instead, he says, “Come.” He says that my file has been mixed up with the file of a faceless monster and they need to talk to me in person to sort things out.
“I’m not a faceless monster,” I say to the detective I’m speaking to.
“I have a name, it has the character 鐵 [iron] in it,” I add, “I am not a nameless, faceless monster.”
But he flips open a magazine and shows me an advertisement of a woman offering sex for money. She is wearing a bikini, lying sideways in a provocative pose.
“You financed your facial reconstructive surgery with an ad just like this,” he said. “You’ve had surgery to fix your face many times.”
What he says sounds familiar but I really don’t remember doing these things, the sex ad or the reconstructive surgery.
“Does it still count if I don’t remember?” I ask.
“This is the 27th time we’ve caught you,” he said. “I can’t let you go anymore.”
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Serial Killer Romance Dream
It's my last day in Taiwan and I want to make the most of it--walking around different stores, eating good food, etc. When I get home, there is a strange man in my room. I suddenly remember that there has been a serial killer killing off my female friends, one by one, and this must be him.
"I left you a note inside Gretchen," he said to me, gesturing towards the bottom bunk of the bunk bed.
I realize that Gretchen's body must be there but I am afraid to look. I wonder if he is going to kill me. He leans over and kisses me on the mouth. For a minute he seems normal, a not too bad looking young man. His kiss convinces me not to scream or attack him or try to turn him in to the police. I leave my room, promising not to tell anybody that he is here and that there is a dead body in my room.
I pass the living room, where my youngest brother is saying he is hungry. My mom says she'll go out and buy something from a food stand. I look at the clock; it's 7 pm.
"I'll make you some fried rice really fast for now," I say, feeling bad that he has no food.
Meanwhile, I wonder what's happening to the dead body and the serial killer in my room. When I do finally report the death, will the coroner find it suspicious that I didn't tell them about the body until a few hours after the death? I start cooking, thinking that I'll just pretend I never went in my room, was in the kitchen the whole time, and did not discover the body until much later...
"I left you a note inside Gretchen," he said to me, gesturing towards the bottom bunk of the bunk bed.
I realize that Gretchen's body must be there but I am afraid to look. I wonder if he is going to kill me. He leans over and kisses me on the mouth. For a minute he seems normal, a not too bad looking young man. His kiss convinces me not to scream or attack him or try to turn him in to the police. I leave my room, promising not to tell anybody that he is here and that there is a dead body in my room.
I pass the living room, where my youngest brother is saying he is hungry. My mom says she'll go out and buy something from a food stand. I look at the clock; it's 7 pm.
"I'll make you some fried rice really fast for now," I say, feeling bad that he has no food.
Meanwhile, I wonder what's happening to the dead body and the serial killer in my room. When I do finally report the death, will the coroner find it suspicious that I didn't tell them about the body until a few hours after the death? I start cooking, thinking that I'll just pretend I never went in my room, was in the kitchen the whole time, and did not discover the body until much later...
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Domo Kun Rejects
No, we have not gone crazy. This is a entry for the esteemed Rejectionist's Heavy Metal Rejection Contest.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Ten Things I Don’t Like About Korean Drama (Cold Drill, Issue 39, 2010, p.32-34)
By Yu-Han Chao
I.
The male lead(s) always comes from an impossibly rich family that owns some Hilton-like empire or otherwise hugely successful business. Sometimes a playboy, sometimes excessively emo for no good reason, always lavish with money, he has no real job or profession and simply travels about the world and amuses himself and acts emo. He must shape up and become a dedicated human being with a purpose in life (career, starting a family with female lead) before he receives his monstrous inheritance, however.
II.
The female lead is always poor, and not just poor, but exceedingly, excruciatingly, what-am-I-going-to-eat-tomorrow poor. She has a father who loses all money as soon as it’s made by his daughter and will not stop incurring debts, to be followed by visits from loan sharks, threats from loan sharks and eventually the carrying out of such threats in the form of removal of furniture from the residence and/or removal of the family from the residence. A testimony to her poverty: the male lead, driving by in a fancy sports car or riding in the back of a chauffeured limousine, will spot her eating instant noodles standing up in a convenience store, having asked the clerk for hot water to make her $0.23 bowl of instant noodles. Rent is a problem, debt is a problem, but despite her hardships the female lead remains cheerful, cute, and quirky. This is why we (and the male lead) love her.
III.
The female lead talks to stuffed animals (or herself) in her bedroom way, way too much. This may seem a convenient way to impart information and express the female lead’s feelings/thoughts, but is pretty stupid to watch, especially when done in every other of sixteen episodes in a series. Deux ex stuffed anima. “What do you think, Big Stuffed Frog?”
IV.
How the men constantly grab a woman’s hand forcefully. This happens a lot in Taiwan, too, but shouldn’t. One is torn between physical struggle with the grabbing male and one’s unwillingness to cause a scene in public (the struggling woman will usually be perceived as spiteful and hysterical by passersby).
What are we teaching our children and teenagers, that it’s okay to manhandle and be manhandled? I’m not even talking about the supposedly romantic scene where the male lead picked up the female lead as if they were threshold-crossing newlyweds, then forcefully threw her, spine first, onto the sand. The female lead, smiling, patting sand off her back, gets up and hugs him playfully, and then they hold hands and swing each other in clockwise circles until the male lead decides to let go and send the female lead flying out again onto the sand again from centrifugal force. She is still laughing with glee, of course. Sadomasochists. Please, children, do not try this at home, or at the beach. How much do they pay the cute little Korean actress to be thrown onto the sand like that?
V.
The only non-alcoholic way male characters show their frustration is through intense playing of sports (usually racquetball) or a let’s-duke-it-out fistfight between (usually love) rivals. And then of course, there’s the alcoholic way of showing their frustration. Most male characters cannot hold their liquor.
VI.
When the female lead is frustrated/depressed/torn between two lovers, she also drinks (soju) herself under the table and becomes infantile, babbling, or unconscious, creating the necessity for some male lead or other to taxi, chauffer, and/or piggy-back her home. Usually he also takes this opportunity to go through her bag/wallet/purse and find something out about her that he did not previously know.
She never remembers what happened while she was drunk so once sober she can shrug any indiscretions such as out-of-control dancing or one night stands off as a dream and continue to act like her innocent, cute, well-rounded and balanced self.
VII.
People (even people who have lived together as boyfriend-girlfriend for seven years) don’t have sex. If they do, they promptly become pregnant and decide to keep the baby, with melodramatic & life-changing/ruining consequences. Keeping the identity/existence of the baby from its father/anyone-who-cares, at least for a few years, is also common. It’s hard enough to convince the parents of the male lead to “allow” his marriage to the female lead, so it’s drama-to-the-tenth-power if she’s an unwed mother. But in general, there are more thirty-year-old, in-a-relationship virgins than you’d expect.
VIII.
Not only do individual men grab individual women’s hands, what’s also popular is the male-female-lead-tug-of-war dance. One male lead grabs one hand of the female lead, tug. Second male lead grabs other hand of female lead, yank. Some back and forth. Results vary: female lead runs away in tears/anger; one male lead forfeits the prize; two males get into a fistfight; two males leave the scene, then engage separately or together in item 5 (sports to vent frustration or fistfight); female lead picks one male, resulting in utter heartbreak of remaining male, etc.
IX.
When shot in foreign countries, Korean dramas manage to make it seem like each country is practically owned by Koreans. All the Koreans in a particular city, such as Cambridge, MA, also all happen to know one another and are more often than not, related. A lot of white people tend to speak Korean, too. Rather well, one might add.
X.
The ridiculous mistakes of identity of the female lead in early episodes, lies perpetuated by their subject, only for the eventual revelation of her true identity to bring disappointment, melodrama, and tears/embarrassment/shame later on. E.g. 30 year old virgin mistaken for innocent 20 year old, Harvard medical student mistaken for professional prostitute (that was excellent, however).
For more information, many Korean dramas are available for free at www.mysoju.com
I.
The male lead(s) always comes from an impossibly rich family that owns some Hilton-like empire or otherwise hugely successful business. Sometimes a playboy, sometimes excessively emo for no good reason, always lavish with money, he has no real job or profession and simply travels about the world and amuses himself and acts emo. He must shape up and become a dedicated human being with a purpose in life (career, starting a family with female lead) before he receives his monstrous inheritance, however.
II.
The female lead is always poor, and not just poor, but exceedingly, excruciatingly, what-am-I-going-to-eat-tomorrow poor. She has a father who loses all money as soon as it’s made by his daughter and will not stop incurring debts, to be followed by visits from loan sharks, threats from loan sharks and eventually the carrying out of such threats in the form of removal of furniture from the residence and/or removal of the family from the residence. A testimony to her poverty: the male lead, driving by in a fancy sports car or riding in the back of a chauffeured limousine, will spot her eating instant noodles standing up in a convenience store, having asked the clerk for hot water to make her $0.23 bowl of instant noodles. Rent is a problem, debt is a problem, but despite her hardships the female lead remains cheerful, cute, and quirky. This is why we (and the male lead) love her.
III.
The female lead talks to stuffed animals (or herself) in her bedroom way, way too much. This may seem a convenient way to impart information and express the female lead’s feelings/thoughts, but is pretty stupid to watch, especially when done in every other of sixteen episodes in a series. Deux ex stuffed anima. “What do you think, Big Stuffed Frog?”
IV.
How the men constantly grab a woman’s hand forcefully. This happens a lot in Taiwan, too, but shouldn’t. One is torn between physical struggle with the grabbing male and one’s unwillingness to cause a scene in public (the struggling woman will usually be perceived as spiteful and hysterical by passersby).
What are we teaching our children and teenagers, that it’s okay to manhandle and be manhandled? I’m not even talking about the supposedly romantic scene where the male lead picked up the female lead as if they were threshold-crossing newlyweds, then forcefully threw her, spine first, onto the sand. The female lead, smiling, patting sand off her back, gets up and hugs him playfully, and then they hold hands and swing each other in clockwise circles until the male lead decides to let go and send the female lead flying out again onto the sand again from centrifugal force. She is still laughing with glee, of course. Sadomasochists. Please, children, do not try this at home, or at the beach. How much do they pay the cute little Korean actress to be thrown onto the sand like that?
V.
The only non-alcoholic way male characters show their frustration is through intense playing of sports (usually racquetball) or a let’s-duke-it-out fistfight between (usually love) rivals. And then of course, there’s the alcoholic way of showing their frustration. Most male characters cannot hold their liquor.
VI.
When the female lead is frustrated/depressed/torn between two lovers, she also drinks (soju) herself under the table and becomes infantile, babbling, or unconscious, creating the necessity for some male lead or other to taxi, chauffer, and/or piggy-back her home. Usually he also takes this opportunity to go through her bag/wallet/purse and find something out about her that he did not previously know.
She never remembers what happened while she was drunk so once sober she can shrug any indiscretions such as out-of-control dancing or one night stands off as a dream and continue to act like her innocent, cute, well-rounded and balanced self.
VII.
People (even people who have lived together as boyfriend-girlfriend for seven years) don’t have sex. If they do, they promptly become pregnant and decide to keep the baby, with melodramatic & life-changing/ruining consequences. Keeping the identity/existence of the baby from its father/anyone-who-cares, at least for a few years, is also common. It’s hard enough to convince the parents of the male lead to “allow” his marriage to the female lead, so it’s drama-to-the-tenth-power if she’s an unwed mother. But in general, there are more thirty-year-old, in-a-relationship virgins than you’d expect.
VIII.
Not only do individual men grab individual women’s hands, what’s also popular is the male-female-lead-tug-of-war dance. One male lead grabs one hand of the female lead, tug. Second male lead grabs other hand of female lead, yank. Some back and forth. Results vary: female lead runs away in tears/anger; one male lead forfeits the prize; two males get into a fistfight; two males leave the scene, then engage separately or together in item 5 (sports to vent frustration or fistfight); female lead picks one male, resulting in utter heartbreak of remaining male, etc.
IX.
When shot in foreign countries, Korean dramas manage to make it seem like each country is practically owned by Koreans. All the Koreans in a particular city, such as Cambridge, MA, also all happen to know one another and are more often than not, related. A lot of white people tend to speak Korean, too. Rather well, one might add.
X.
The ridiculous mistakes of identity of the female lead in early episodes, lies perpetuated by their subject, only for the eventual revelation of her true identity to bring disappointment, melodrama, and tears/embarrassment/shame later on. E.g. 30 year old virgin mistaken for innocent 20 year old, Harvard medical student mistaken for professional prostitute (that was excellent, however).
For more information, many Korean dramas are available for free at www.mysoju.com
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Library Organ Removal Dream
I'm in the newly built library with J; there are chemicals on the second floor that make me cry every time I pass by on the staircase or am on that floor. Next thing I know I am suffocating, near death, in the bathroom. With great effort I try to breathe in a little air at a time, until finally I am strong enough to crawl to the crack in the door and breathe in more air. I open the door and emerge from the bathroom, glad that I had the willpower to bring myself back to the living world.
I am eating a chocolate covered vanilla popsicle. I eat one with an old man every day; it's kind of a ritual or tradition of ours. I am his wife, I think, as I am quite old, also. Today he refuses to eat his popsicle, however. He is scared of the procedures we will be undergoing today. He doesn't think he will survive.
"I'm scared, too," I tell him.
I coax him into eating his popsicle together with me, and I make sure to give him most of the chocolate casing, his favorite.
It is time for the medical procedure, which involves me taking out all of my own organs myself and dumping them into a wet, steel basin. Some of the organs are round, some are gray, wrinkly intestines, some bulbous, grape-like and red, some smooth and brown. They need to be connected properly in order for me to be cured.
I am eating a chocolate covered vanilla popsicle. I eat one with an old man every day; it's kind of a ritual or tradition of ours. I am his wife, I think, as I am quite old, also. Today he refuses to eat his popsicle, however. He is scared of the procedures we will be undergoing today. He doesn't think he will survive.
"I'm scared, too," I tell him.
I coax him into eating his popsicle together with me, and I make sure to give him most of the chocolate casing, his favorite.
It is time for the medical procedure, which involves me taking out all of my own organs myself and dumping them into a wet, steel basin. Some of the organs are round, some are gray, wrinkly intestines, some bulbous, grape-like and red, some smooth and brown. They need to be connected properly in order for me to be cured.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The Traveling Gown Book Trailer (completed novel manuscript)
A bloodstain from the finger of a Chinese factory girl hides under the red embroidery on a silk wedding gown, which embarks on a decade-long journey through the American bridal industry. In China, the gown observes cheerful, industrious girls in a sweatshop factory; in America she encounters immigrant workers in limbo and men and women plagued with mysterious illnesses, jealousies and resentments, but she also witnesses love which defies all physical boundaries and expectations. The most surprising ending of all comes long after the gown has settled down, grown comfortable in a dusty box in a hallway closet—but her story cannot end until it comes full circle.
The Traveling Gown is a novel about love, lies, journeys, and the nature of waiting—of working hard and struggling in life while biding one’s time. We are all waiting for our moment to come, and laughing at absurd injustices helps us remain hopeful in the face of the worst uncertainties.
Do I need a more "adult" looking video?
The Traveling Gown is a novel about love, lies, journeys, and the nature of waiting—of working hard and struggling in life while biding one’s time. We are all waiting for our moment to come, and laughing at absurd injustices helps us remain hopeful in the face of the worst uncertainties.
Do I need a more "adult" looking video?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Translation Meatloaf Dream
I'm taking the elevator up to the 14th floor to my translation agency. The 14th floor is the highest story in the building, but somehow there's a 25th floor button in the elevator. I dare not press it because as it is the elevator is very wobbly and swinging back and forth and I feel like I'm having a near-death experience. The elevator moves like a pendulum towards and away from the doors on each floor, swinging more and more violently. When the elevator dings at the 14th floor and the door of the 14th floor opens, I wait until the elevator swings close enough to the door and jump out and land on the floor of the 14th floor.
My classmate is already there and I make a reference to Edgar Allan Poe with regards to the elevator. She tells me the elevator won't kill me. I open the door to the translation agency. The translation agency woman is also my violin teacher. I hand her the electricity bill for January and she gives me an additional translation case--I am already working on somebody's autobiography. The new case is in classical Chinese and about the period of Chuen Chiou.
I am translating everything all at once and mix up the pages to the two manuscripts. In fact, the manuscripts are ground beef, mostly raw, some of it accidentally cooked a little at the edges from being defrosted in the microwave. I mix it up evenly like meatloaf and notice that there are actually still page numbers on the manuscripts so I should be able to separate the translated results. While I knead my meatloaf-translation project, the translation agency is torturing a graduate student whose thesis I translated and who still hasn't paid the translation fee.
My classmate is already there and I make a reference to Edgar Allan Poe with regards to the elevator. She tells me the elevator won't kill me. I open the door to the translation agency. The translation agency woman is also my violin teacher. I hand her the electricity bill for January and she gives me an additional translation case--I am already working on somebody's autobiography. The new case is in classical Chinese and about the period of Chuen Chiou.
I am translating everything all at once and mix up the pages to the two manuscripts. In fact, the manuscripts are ground beef, mostly raw, some of it accidentally cooked a little at the edges from being defrosted in the microwave. I mix it up evenly like meatloaf and notice that there are actually still page numbers on the manuscripts so I should be able to separate the translated results. While I knead my meatloaf-translation project, the translation agency is torturing a graduate student whose thesis I translated and who still hasn't paid the translation fee.
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