There were many a time during my 8 years living in Beijing, China that I would experience many a test that would push me to the very limits of my patience and respectability for humans. I will skip all the negative attribute that typical ‘traditional’ Chinese people portrait as well as the antics that would follow if I got upset. So let’s carry on with the story of Mike D.
Once upon a time During my later years in Beijing. I lived in a neighborhood area called Nanluoguxiang. An old historical part of the old Beijing that has a general call of the Hutongs and is filled with shops, bars, and eateries. As well as a home, which that was what they were, to begin with. This was all ground level homes that have been around hundreds of years.
A major attraction for foreigner renters for it give them a feel of home, plus it’s cheap. For Beijing neighborhood nowadays are nothing but towers. Compounds of towers. Everywhere.. Design to squeeze in as many humans as possible in a single square foot of EARTH SOIL space. Fuck that!
Hutongs = LSH: Laowai Sucker Hipster or at least that was how I was felt when my Chinese landlord would pull up in their Mercedes laugh at me. Speak in Chinese about how I live in shit which pays for them to live in luxury 3 bedroom flat on the 35 floor outside the 4th ring. Then speak in English of how it pains them to drive down to the ghetto, ask if I could deliver the money to them next time.
Most of the time I pretended I didn’t understand Chinese. Playing stupid has benefits.
Love it or hate it. It’s China and the amount of money that foreigners pay to live in a culture which hates them. America ain’t got shit on China when it comes to racist remarks and snarls toward ones that are not their own.
There were 3 families that all shared the main door to the courtyard in which I lived in. Which meant there were 3 + homes to would maze around each other with each having a door that opens into the courtyard with the courtyard having a main gate to the road. Each family held on to some form of decaying skeleton host father like figure that would come out and make a moment of action in a fit of distress like batting a pinata during a drunken rage. Each one of these corps carried a different persona, a different vibrant dead energy that would come to life with a drunken spirit of rant song which always reminded me of the Beastie Boys for some reason. I even gave each corpse a name. Mike D, Ad Rock, MCA. Like the Boys, each also had a musical talent that fit best with each name. (STUDY THE BEASTIE BOYS) On occasion, if we were blessed during their drunken state, one would display their talent to the up most of their ability. At anytime.
So as you see. This is Mike D. He is about 90 years old, love to shuffle his feet. His hobbies include eating figs, water plants, toilet, and on the morning of May 8, 2015, at 5:44 am… I add a new activity to his list.
Owning and working a bar in the hot spot of Beijing, China never allowed me the chance to arrive home early in the night. Workers of this industry have their own hours in which they live. This at times can be conflicting with others who live in their ‘ rise with the sun ‘ way of starting the day.
ROUND ONE! When I was brought out of my deepest hours of sleep by someone banging on the back of a metal dust pan. I had no clue what the hell was going on. All I could think about was fire, and fuck… That was the last thing anyone wants in the these old hutongs in the cold. So I rush to my door with cloths in hand an open to discover….
NOTHING!!!! Not a damn thing.!
The old man, banging away yelling!
The rest of the Boys with their family was
out in the courtyard in their night clothes looking, talking. I had no idea at that moment till had started to listen, pay attention to what the old man was saying..
And to come to find out.. That someone stole one of this baby fig trees he had in a pot outside in the courtyard… and he was PISSED!!! He was going to alert the entire neighborhood that their was a thief about.
So Ad Rocks wife came over and calmed Mike D down…. Got him to go back inside his home and relax. In which he did, as I stood there in my door way half clothed with the dumb look on my face for only having 3 hours rest. Wishing for a wake m bake. I turn around, shut my door, and crawl back into bed.
ROUND 2 FIGHT!
I’ll be damned if that mother fucker wasn’t at it again. Back out within minutes with his metal dust pan and stick just banging away and signing along.!!! That was it! I’ve had it. To hell with strike 3. I march outside, walked right up to him, reached down and jerked the metal dust pan out of his hand. I proceeded to walk outside of the main door and tossed that damn metal dust pan over the wall into another neighborhood.
That pissed him right off! I walked into my home, didn’t even look at him as I passed by. I crawled back into my bed for some final shut-eye. Showed him. To hell with old chinese men. To hell with respect. To hell with it all at 6am in the morning!
ROUND 3 Sing! So as the story goes. If one can’t beat him, might as well get high and join him! Catch all the action right here on YOUTUBE.!! Don’t miss this song and dance routine.!
Other then stating that someone stole his plant, and bitching at me for interrupting. His song is pure American HIPHOP artist formed. Effuses on the ‘fuck yous’ and ‘son of a bitch!’
CATCH THE SONG AND DANCE MY MIKE D ON DRUMS AND BRICK ON VOCALS HERE ON YOUTUBE