Last Updated on December 15, 2025 by Black Sunshine Media
I thought it might be cool to create a soundtrack to accompany the books in my Lunar New Years series. All of these songs were part of my daily life and/or journey through the expat experience.
Years of the Ox & Tiger cover my second and third years living abroad, and my travels have taken me beyond Taiwan into China, Thailand, and the Philippines.
Years of the Ox & Tiger: Original Narrative Soundtrack
| Song | Artist | Album |
| “Use Somebody” | Kings of Leon | Only By Night (2004) |
| “Dr. Baker” | The Beta Band | The Three E.P.s (1998) |
| “Los Paraguayos” | Rod Stewart | Never a Dull Moment (1972) |
| “Best Friend” | English Beat | I Just Can’t Stop It (1980) |
| “Take Me Out” | Franz Ferdinand | Franz Ferdinand (2004) |
| “Mountain Song” | Jane’s Addiction | Nothing’s Shocking (1988) |
| “Send Me Some Lovin’” | Little Richard | Little Richard: The Georgia Peach (1980) |
| “Steady Mobbin’” | Ice Cube | Death Certificate (1991) |
| “Know Your Enemy” | Green Day | 21st Century Breakdown (2009) |
| “Kickstart My Heart” | Motley Crüe | Dr. Feelgood (1989) |
| “It’s Different for Girls” | Joe Jackson | I’m the Man (1979) |
| “Since I’ve Seen You Smile” | Aztec Hearts | Dyin’ for You to Hear This (2005) |
| “Drunk Girls” | LCD Soundsystem | This Is Happening (2010) |
| “Hot in Here” | Nelly | Nellyville (2002) |
| “So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright” | Simon & Garfunkel | Bridge Over Troubled Water (1970) |
| “Forever” | The Cure | The Top (2005 Remaster) |
Quick Years of the Ox & Tiger Overview
As the follow-up to Year of the Rat, Year of the Ox & Tiger continues the author’s deeply introspective, often darkly humorous journey through expatriate life in East Asia. Book 2 in the Lunar New Years series expands on the themes of the first installment—self-destruction, cultural exploration, and the chaotic pursuit of meaning—while deepening the stakes with new personal and existential crises. The narrative is both a continuation and an escalation, diving into themes of love, loss, identity, and the blurred lines between adventure and self-destruction.
The detailed accounts of life in China, Taiwan, and Southeast Asia paint a vivid picture of places many Western readers may find exotic, chaotic, or even alienating. The descriptions of nightlife, local scams, and bar culture feel immersive and authentic. While the first book leaned heavily on humor and cynicism, this installment explores more profound themes—personal responsibility, regret, and the fleeting nature of connection. The sections dealing with relationships, particularly the dynamics between the narrator and Fang, add a tragic yet compelling layer.
Year of the Ox & Tiger is a strong sequel that builds upon the foundation of Year of the Rat, offering deeper emotional engagement and even sharper cultural observations. Fans of the first book will appreciate the continued journey, though some of the same structural and thematic weaknesses persist. This book will resonate with readers who appreciate brutally honest expatriate memoirs and gonzo-style storytelling, but those looking for a traditional redemption arc or a more polished narrative may find themselves frustrated.
Excerpt from Years of the Ox & Tiger, Chapter 10 (“Beer & Loathing on the Asian Riviera”)
In November 2009, I took a solo trip from Taiwan to Thailand. Exhausted from five days and nights of whoring and whatnot, I spent the last night drinking alone in a Pattaya beer bar.
The morning after the long-time with Suripon, I moved to the Golden Beach Hotel a few blocks away for my final night in town. I’d leave for Bangkok early in the morning and catch a late-night flight back to Taipei.
The Golden Beach wasn’t a bad spot. I went for a swim in the pool, had some pad thai in the restaurant, and took another long nap. I woke around 8:00 p.m. and didn’t feel like traveling far from the hotel. There was a beer bar next door, so I settled in at a table near the front window and started drinking. It was only a matter of time before the bar girls on the sidewalk came for me. The sound system was bumping current and classic rock music, which was nice. I wouldn’t not go into a bar because they were playing “Hot in Here” (Nelly), but if the joint next door was blasting “Welcome to the Jungle” (Guns N’ Roses)… Get in where you fit in, right? Tonight, the music made me feel just a little less morose; strange to say, but side one of Appetite for Destruction was somehow comforting.
Watching all the characters passing by—mostly hookers and johns—I felt a slight twinge of relief. Not me, tonight. I’m getting the fuck out of here tomorrow. A cute, chubby girl approached from the sidewalk and made conversation. Despite making it clear that I wanted to be left alone, she wouldn’t stop. Where are you from? What are you doing in Pattaya? Et cetera. We talked for a while, and I focused on asking her questions in the same manner. Turns out she was 19, from somewhere up north.
I asked, “Why are you doing this?” as in, why are you a bar girl and turning tricks? And she replied, “I’m doing this to support my family. My father died, and we are very poor.” You could bank on that story from every single hooker in Asia. They were the most altruistic fuckers on the planet. So many life-saving fundraisers for grandmas who need a kidney.
The girl seemed genuine or naïve, can’t be sure. I bought her a lady drink but never asked her name. Fifteen minutes or so passed, and she bluntly asked if I wanted to pay the bar fine and take her upstairs? She was extremely sweet and relatively wholesome for the trade, but too young. Nineteen might make her a woman, but she had about two years of life on her. I politely declined, and she looked hurt, albeit in some small way. I’m sure it was the money.
The mamasan came over and they spoke in Thai. The girl got up, said goodbye, and went back to working the sidewalk, trying to drag other foreigners into the bar for a drink. The bar girls in Pattaya are trained to never take no for an answer. It’s pretty annoying and aggressive. You gotta be like, “No, sorry, fuck off” if you want to make any progress down the street.
A numbness started to creep, so I ordered one last beer and paid my tab. I sat there watching the girl out on the sidewalk. Now and then, she shot me a most disappointed and plaintive look. It gave me goosebumps. An unfamiliar song started to play, and something about it just hit me in the chest from the very beginning. It was “Use Somebody” by Kings of Leon, who I’d never even heard of.
I’ve been roamin’ around, always lookin’ down at all I see
Painted faces fill the places I can’t reach
You know that I could use somebody
You know that I could use somebody
The music moved me to overwhelming sadness. The women, the scene, the previous night, my life—everything. If I were not in public, I probably would have wept openly. For the first time since I left San Francisco for Taiwan, I felt a staggering sense of self-loathing, buttressed by the reconciliation between right and wrong.
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Context: Soundtrack
The bartender at the unnamed beer bar in Pattaya was kicking out the hard rock jams. In addition to the Kings of Leon song that almost made me cry, the very next song to come over the sound system was “Know Your Enemy” by Green Day, followed by “Kickstart My Heart” by Motley Crüe. I wound up staying for several more beers.
Meanwhile, I lived in a rooftop apartment until late 2009, when I moved to the company apartment one floor above my office. Throughout this time, I listened to a lot of early Rod Stewart, The Beta Band, Joe Jackson, The English Beat, and Little Richard. For several months, I went to a bar in Taipei that played mostly hip-hop music, so I was hearing a lot of Wu-Tang Clan, Asian Dub Syndicate, and, yeah, Nelly!
