I have an opportunity to increase my dosage again. A part of me still wants the quick fix, to feel deliriously happy. What I really want is to surrender responsibility.

It's a tightrope act. To feel just dis-satisfied enough to know what to work on, but not so unhappy to give up.

All I know is, it's working.

But enough of this hippie shit, time for some old bile:

slave labor:

It was a big gala event, with big name people, and big money people. I believe it was the first time that Chinese art hidden away in Taiwan was to be shown to outsiders.

When we arrived, we were given a packet to read over, black t-shirts, and radios. We were to manage the various groups of performers and coordinate them with other groups.

I was assigned to manage the Little Buddhas. The performers were to don light blue robes and wear these large smiling buddha heads and clown around with the patrons of the museum. You know, goof, dance, act like the Three Stooges, but not talk. That sort of thing. And they couldn't actually touch anyone, otherwise, the museum could be sued.

Jon was to coordinate four banner carriers, to hold up these 10' tall wooden poles with a large wooden sign that was to honor the "leading official" Mayor Willie Brown. It was a spoof of a parade to announce important Chinese Confucian officials. That sort of thing.

We were given catered sandwiches to eat, but I was too nervous to have an appetite. I nibbled on some meat and cheese, when suddenly it was announced that we had to get started.

I got to my section, and robes and budda heads lay about like a massacre, portenting the night ahead. I looked at my watch, and it was about 7 or 8 o'clock when the performers arrived, asking me what they were supposed to do.

They were kids. Eight kids between 7 to 12, a high school student, and an old man.

They were students from a local karate studio, and they had no idea what they were supposed to do. I tried to explain that they were supposed to put on these heads and and act like idiots.

They got dressed, and stood about the hallway, waving at the rich patrons. I found out that this was also a dinner, and the people had paid $1000 (or more) each to have dinner, see the Ancient Treasures of China, and to be entertained by kids.

The event organizer came by and asked my why they weren't being more aggressive. "They're waving, they're wandering around," I said.

"Well, motivate them, get them to jump, dance, play." He left, and I leaned against a wall, mortified.

An hour went by, and the kids (and old guy) were pretty tired. I few of them sat down in the dressing room. I let them, since I was kinda worn out.

The organizer came by again, gave me a little motivational speech about the event, and said that he wanted me to gather them up for when Willie Brown came by. The kids were to march behind him as he went to all the rooms and greeted people.

"Fine," I said. "When is he coming by, so I can round them up?"

"No idea, the Mayor tends to show up when he feels like it. We think he'll be around at 9, but it could be an hour later."

"What? You want me to have all these kids wait around for 2 or 3 hours? Some of them haven't eaten, and most of them have to call their parents."

The coordinator took off before I could find out where the pay phones were. The kids started to complain, so I wandered around the stupid museum looking for the payphones while the coordinator kept asking me through my radio why my kids were sitting down or taking off their masks.

Suddenly, there was a change in plans. They wanted me to get the kids to usher people into the dining rooms. Women in traditional Qing dynasty dresses were to come around and ring little dinner gongs. There weren't enough of them, so the kids were the backup plan.

I was down to three kids. We were in place, but the women were half an hour late. I must have sounded like an idiot asking the radio "Where are the Qing ladies? Where are the Qing ladies? Qing ladies, where are you?"

When I heard the gongs, I watched my three kids flap their arms around at the patrons, who were completely oblivious.

The kids couldn't push people toward the rooms, because they couldn't touch anyone. And they couldn't tell anyone that dinner was ready, because the coordinator told them that they weren't allowed to talk.

And since no one informed these rich people that the gong meant dinner, they just wandered around looking at the art and wondered what all the commotion was all about.

That's when I got the notice that Willie Brown's caravan was arriving. Finally, I thought, where is he going to be?

"We don't know," was the answer. "He never told us which entrance he was coming through."

My three brave kids and I ran back and forth across the museum, trying to figure out where the mayor was to be. This is the guy who runs San Francisco.

When he finally decided to choose an entrance, we piled behind all the other performers. I saw Jon carrying one of the wooden banners, and three other scrawny pre-teen boys following, with a banner each. I found out later that the wooden poles were really heavy, and top-heavy too. One of the kids couldn't lift it, as they weren't real performers either, just tae kwon do students, or something.

The event ended at 11pm. All the kids were complaining that their parents were annoyed that their kids were out so late. Luckily, I didn't have to answer to any of them, but I felt sorry for the tired, heat-stricken brats.

I was annoyed at the museum, until I realized that it was a very Chinese thing to do. It was free child labor.