Before you read this, I must tell you that despite my long absence from the land of my birth, I really am a true west coaster. I have a deep and abiding love for our hippie heritage, our huggable trees, our gay-straight alliances, our edibles and our smokeables, and our international vegan menu. Don't let the sarcasm in this post - or the fact that I don't like it when people are baked ALL the time - allow you to think otherwise!
Someone read my post about the librarian and said to me, "Haha, was that librarian baked or what, man!"
That really got me thinking. I have not been here on the west coast, in my own culture, for a long time. I have forgotten how to give people the benefit of the doubt. In this culture everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, because here, anyone, anytime, could be totally stoned.
Maybe a lot of the painfully and irritatingly obtuse customer service people around here need to be given that benefit of the doubt whenever they display the worst of our (otherwise good) west coast slacker/space-cadet ethic.
Maybe one in ten west coasters, people like my brother who's always happy to chat with telemarketers, actually gives people this benefit of the doubt on a regular basis.
Maybe this portion of the population is really significant, and maybe they are a part of why everyone else thinks we west-coasters are so nice and easy going.
Yeah! Maybe a key part of our laid-back west coast culture has to do with the inherently tension-diffusing effects of thinking the following, when confronted with crap service: "Although you are annoying the shit out of me by your painful obtuseness, I recognize that in this unique cultural milieu, there is a high chance you're just really stoned, and hey man, power to, I mean you gotta do what you gotta do to survive your lame job workin' for the man... Far be it for me to go all big city and get irritated with you! I'll treat you as a buddy, buddy! And I'll talk to you and think of you as though you really were my buddy and we were getting baked together! It's all good! No worries!"
Yes! I am on to something! I could think that exact thought loop over and over whenever I am dealing with annoying people in institutional and commercial settings - at the bank, at the doctor's office, at the grocery store... It could turn into my own little do-it-yourself west coast spiritual practice. It would be a way of converting annoyance and irritation into the characteristic west coast traits of tolerance and compassion! I could even follow the positive thought-loop with a simple breath meditation: Breathing in, this annoying person might just be really baked. Breathing out, we are all brothers. Breathing in, I see this annoying person as my best friend when we are getting baked together. Breathing out, we are all connected. Breathing in, pass me the lighter. Breathing out, I don't feel so irritated with all these west coast slackers anymore... Breathing in.... pass left... breathing out... ahhhh...
2008-11-30
Greensnake Tries A Mind-Expanding Beverage
Two summers ago I had the good fortune to ingest a substance that made the lawn jump out into multidimensional fractal patterns before my eyes. It was a great experience, but unfortunately the substance that I took seems to have been a gateway drug. It must have been, because after that experience, I absolutely burned with curiosity and a desire to try other ways of altering my consciousness. But what substance to choose? Last December, a totally legal option presented itself to me: coffee.
I had always heard people saying that coffee is a drug. My health is really important to me and I am pretty conservative when it comes to vices (I'm not into alcohol, I don't particularly like chocolate, I don't have a secret stash of smutty jpegs on my hard drive, I've never watched Survivor, I don't have a driver's licence, I'm no gambler, and I don't even eat meat) so obviously I had never tried coffee before! I had always assumed that the commonly tossed-about phrase, "coffee is a drug," referred only to its chemically addictive nature. Did you know that 70% of the headaches in North America are due to caffeine withdrawal? But I digress.
So I started to think about it. Coffee is a drug... coffee is a drug... could it make the lawn hop out into fractals? I doubted it. But what could it do? Should I try it and find out if there was anything more to its "drug" reputation than just its ability to form a habit? Should I should I should I try? One night I randomly read online that some medieval sect of Sufis had used caffeine to get high so that they could commune with God. That did it - my decision was made. I was going to try it.
With a little help from my friend, I soon had a cup of Turkish Coffee in my eager little hands. I was so excited! I was going to get high, I just knew it!
The coffee was dark brown and it smelled great. The first sip, however, tasted terrible. It was bitter and left an astringent feeling in my mouth like herbal bronchitis medicine. I couldn't drink it quickly at all, so I just sipped. Start low and go slow, I reminded myself. At first, the only change I noticed was a slight sharpening of concentrational focus toward the cup of coffee itself. By the time the cup was empty, a thin sweat had broken out all over my skin. I felt like I could write a 40-page research paper on any topic at the library in time for dinner. Was this how those Sufis had felt before they communed with God? I started noticing details all over the room, and my attention was jumping from one item to another. So many interesting things to look at! I decided to have another cup.
My companion was not sure if I should do that.
I insisted, "Come on! I want to get high like those Sufis!"
"If you want to be up all night..."
"That's what they did! They stayed up all night communing with God!" Staying up all night seemed realistic. I felt like I could handle it. Was it a challenge? Throw it at me, I thought, I can do anything! I could get a lot done if I stayed up all night. It would be great!
After my second cup, those details were really standing out. The grain of the wood that the chairs were made of... the reflections on the windows... the clinking of spoons... the whole atmosphere of the cafe came alive, really. Of course nothing was standing out in a fractal- claymation-kaleidoscope way. But everything was standing out in an attentional way, inside my mind. I wondered if maybe I had had some kind of attentional deficit all along, and now the coffee was allowing me to focus my attention? On many things at once?
I realized that my verdict was in. Did I commune with God? No. But coffee was definitely a drug, and not just because it was addictive. I really felt that I had traveled to another plane of consciousness: I had experienced caffeinated awareness.
That Monday morning at work, I watched my co-workers with their coffee mugs and I smelled the coffee brewing in the pot. It was the first time I had ever been able to relate to their rituals. But I still didn't understand. How could something so mind-altering be used so casually in a place of work? In my imagination I subsituted other substances, like my favourite leafy greens, for the coffee. I couldn't imagine people walking around stoned in our office on a Monday morning. Why was coffee so socially acceptable?
I remembered my urge to write a research paper the day before. I think that although coffee is definitely consciousness-altering, the way it alters our consciousness is still compatible with our inherited protestant work ethic. It makes people feel like they can attack a task and get stuff done! And, as I sadly discovered that evening, users can become extremely habituated after only one use. Maybe the morning coffee doesn't affect most workers that much at all. When I did coffee again that night, I didn't get half the effect I had had the day before. I wasn't able to get the same intensity of experience until I had gone more than two weeks without doing any coffee at all.
In total, I did coffee 8 times over the past year. Although coffee exacerbates some of my least favourite personality traits, it is a great drug that's totally legal, socially acceptable in any situation except maybe during sex, and does change your head when you want to feel a different feeling. Nevertheless, I can't see myself getting really serious about it (if you say "grinder" I don't think of coffee), because it is so addictive, you get habituated so easily, and it has a ton of negative health effects. It scares the hell out of me that some people drink 8 cups a day just to feel normal. That's 4 times more than what I had when I first entered into the heightened realm of caffeinated awareness!
It's sad but true: I know that if I were to start to use this substance more often, my use would become abuse, because I would turn something that to me is still magical into just another requisite part of my daily routine. I'd feel cranky without it, but nothing special with it.
I had always heard people saying that coffee is a drug. My health is really important to me and I am pretty conservative when it comes to vices (I'm not into alcohol, I don't particularly like chocolate, I don't have a secret stash of smutty jpegs on my hard drive, I've never watched Survivor, I don't have a driver's licence, I'm no gambler, and I don't even eat meat) so obviously I had never tried coffee before! I had always assumed that the commonly tossed-about phrase, "coffee is a drug," referred only to its chemically addictive nature. Did you know that 70% of the headaches in North America are due to caffeine withdrawal? But I digress.
So I started to think about it. Coffee is a drug... coffee is a drug... could it make the lawn hop out into fractals? I doubted it. But what could it do? Should I try it and find out if there was anything more to its "drug" reputation than just its ability to form a habit? Should I should I should I try? One night I randomly read online that some medieval sect of Sufis had used caffeine to get high so that they could commune with God. That did it - my decision was made. I was going to try it.
With a little help from my friend, I soon had a cup of Turkish Coffee in my eager little hands. I was so excited! I was going to get high, I just knew it!
The coffee was dark brown and it smelled great. The first sip, however, tasted terrible. It was bitter and left an astringent feeling in my mouth like herbal bronchitis medicine. I couldn't drink it quickly at all, so I just sipped. Start low and go slow, I reminded myself. At first, the only change I noticed was a slight sharpening of concentrational focus toward the cup of coffee itself. By the time the cup was empty, a thin sweat had broken out all over my skin. I felt like I could write a 40-page research paper on any topic at the library in time for dinner. Was this how those Sufis had felt before they communed with God? I started noticing details all over the room, and my attention was jumping from one item to another. So many interesting things to look at! I decided to have another cup.
My companion was not sure if I should do that.
I insisted, "Come on! I want to get high like those Sufis!"
"If you want to be up all night..."
"That's what they did! They stayed up all night communing with God!" Staying up all night seemed realistic. I felt like I could handle it. Was it a challenge? Throw it at me, I thought, I can do anything! I could get a lot done if I stayed up all night. It would be great!
After my second cup, those details were really standing out. The grain of the wood that the chairs were made of... the reflections on the windows... the clinking of spoons... the whole atmosphere of the cafe came alive, really. Of course nothing was standing out in a fractal- claymation-kaleidoscope way. But everything was standing out in an attentional way, inside my mind. I wondered if maybe I had had some kind of attentional deficit all along, and now the coffee was allowing me to focus my attention? On many things at once?
I realized that my verdict was in. Did I commune with God? No. But coffee was definitely a drug, and not just because it was addictive. I really felt that I had traveled to another plane of consciousness: I had experienced caffeinated awareness.
That Monday morning at work, I watched my co-workers with their coffee mugs and I smelled the coffee brewing in the pot. It was the first time I had ever been able to relate to their rituals. But I still didn't understand. How could something so mind-altering be used so casually in a place of work? In my imagination I subsituted other substances, like my favourite leafy greens, for the coffee. I couldn't imagine people walking around stoned in our office on a Monday morning. Why was coffee so socially acceptable?
I remembered my urge to write a research paper the day before. I think that although coffee is definitely consciousness-altering, the way it alters our consciousness is still compatible with our inherited protestant work ethic. It makes people feel like they can attack a task and get stuff done! And, as I sadly discovered that evening, users can become extremely habituated after only one use. Maybe the morning coffee doesn't affect most workers that much at all. When I did coffee again that night, I didn't get half the effect I had had the day before. I wasn't able to get the same intensity of experience until I had gone more than two weeks without doing any coffee at all.
In total, I did coffee 8 times over the past year. Although coffee exacerbates some of my least favourite personality traits, it is a great drug that's totally legal, socially acceptable in any situation except maybe during sex, and does change your head when you want to feel a different feeling. Nevertheless, I can't see myself getting really serious about it (if you say "grinder" I don't think of coffee), because it is so addictive, you get habituated so easily, and it has a ton of negative health effects. It scares the hell out of me that some people drink 8 cups a day just to feel normal. That's 4 times more than what I had when I first entered into the heightened realm of caffeinated awareness!
It's sad but true: I know that if I were to start to use this substance more often, my use would become abuse, because I would turn something that to me is still magical into just another requisite part of my daily routine. I'd feel cranky without it, but nothing special with it.
2008-11-29
The Padded Truth
Today I tried to buy a bra.
If you know me or have read previous posts, you will know that I've recently lost a lot of weight, and not on purpose either (though I am enjoying my new skinny life). So anyways the tight squishy sports bras that I usually wear still fit fine... they are one-size fits all, after all! But my fancy ones, for wearing at job interviews and with certain more formal clothes, are too big around the ribs now that I'm a scrawn-dog. So I thought I would get another fancy one, one that would fit. And besides I heard there was a sale. Sometimes, as a female, it is socially good to look more feminine, i.e. looking like I have two seperate breasts that are the fashion-designated shape... instead of what I usually wear, which I have learned is closer to "binding" than actual bra wearing. Apparently "binding" is pretty popular in Taiwan, though from personal experience at the bath house I would say Russians have more need for it. The term has a range of meanings and one of them refers to the use of tight sports bras or other materials to squish your breasts, making your upper body look sturdy while decreasing the amount of attention paid to your breasts by people in your environment. People do it for lots of reasons including transexual reasons, but I did it unconsciously.
So today I went to the bra store and was I ever shocked! And I thought I was shocked last time. Last time I bought these things, I was surprised that the bras made of regular cloth were no longer available. It was thick foam instead. Well today I was shocked again - not only are most bras still made of thick foam instead of regular cloth, but, ah, the foam is now like an inch thicker at the bottom of the cup: the traditional "falsie" spot.
The store workers seemed shocked and dumbfounded when I asked where the bras were that did not come with such thick padding. It seems that over a few short years they had forgotten such things had ever existed. They had to really search. They had to "go look in the back." They finally found... one. (A red satin one.)
One worker with huge false eyelashes and a huge false smile announced in a very loud false whisper: "Actually we DO sometimes have them without the thicker padding!!! But normally not in your size!!! We have them sometimes for D and E cups tho!" Ok, so I guess that means my breasts are too small and I need padding to be seen in public. My mind buzzes. Right, C is definitely too small... especially my little 32C or 34C, which is, after all, a lot smaller than a more normal 36C or 38C that your average lady wears. But wait, (deep breath) that 38C would now automatically come with extra padding too, and... isn't C the most commonly worn bra size in the world anyway? Ok (deep breath) I don't feel so personally targeted after all. I guess someone has randomly decided that we all have to look an inch thicker than we really are.
I feel somewhat opposed to this concept. I mean what the fuck, right? It seems so false.
Don't be so negative, dear self. Maybe I should go easier on the bra industry. False, maybe, but not a complete lie. There are still actual breasts inside that bra. So it's still the truth. But, I protest, it's the padded truth!
If you know me or have read previous posts, you will know that I've recently lost a lot of weight, and not on purpose either (though I am enjoying my new skinny life). So anyways the tight squishy sports bras that I usually wear still fit fine... they are one-size fits all, after all! But my fancy ones, for wearing at job interviews and with certain more formal clothes, are too big around the ribs now that I'm a scrawn-dog. So I thought I would get another fancy one, one that would fit. And besides I heard there was a sale. Sometimes, as a female, it is socially good to look more feminine, i.e. looking like I have two seperate breasts that are the fashion-designated shape... instead of what I usually wear, which I have learned is closer to "binding" than actual bra wearing. Apparently "binding" is pretty popular in Taiwan, though from personal experience at the bath house I would say Russians have more need for it. The term has a range of meanings and one of them refers to the use of tight sports bras or other materials to squish your breasts, making your upper body look sturdy while decreasing the amount of attention paid to your breasts by people in your environment. People do it for lots of reasons including transexual reasons, but I did it unconsciously.
So today I went to the bra store and was I ever shocked! And I thought I was shocked last time. Last time I bought these things, I was surprised that the bras made of regular cloth were no longer available. It was thick foam instead. Well today I was shocked again - not only are most bras still made of thick foam instead of regular cloth, but, ah, the foam is now like an inch thicker at the bottom of the cup: the traditional "falsie" spot.
The store workers seemed shocked and dumbfounded when I asked where the bras were that did not come with such thick padding. It seems that over a few short years they had forgotten such things had ever existed. They had to really search. They had to "go look in the back." They finally found... one. (A red satin one.)
One worker with huge false eyelashes and a huge false smile announced in a very loud false whisper: "Actually we DO sometimes have them without the thicker padding!!! But normally not in your size!!! We have them sometimes for D and E cups tho!" Ok, so I guess that means my breasts are too small and I need padding to be seen in public. My mind buzzes. Right, C is definitely too small... especially my little 32C or 34C, which is, after all, a lot smaller than a more normal 36C or 38C that your average lady wears. But wait, (deep breath) that 38C would now automatically come with extra padding too, and... isn't C the most commonly worn bra size in the world anyway? Ok (deep breath) I don't feel so personally targeted after all. I guess someone has randomly decided that we all have to look an inch thicker than we really are.
I feel somewhat opposed to this concept. I mean what the fuck, right? It seems so false.
Don't be so negative, dear self. Maybe I should go easier on the bra industry. False, maybe, but not a complete lie. There are still actual breasts inside that bra. So it's still the truth. But, I protest, it's the padded truth!
Library Card Password
Today I went to the library and used their electronic catalogue to look up this one book, but I had a problem. So I went to the desk for help. This is what I said - see if you can understand:
"I used the computers here to try and put a hold on this one book, but after I entered my library card's bar code, the computer asked for a password. Even though I just got this new library card a couple of weeks ago, I can't remember anything about a password! So I hit the 'forgot password' button and it gave me a message that a new password has been sent to my email. But I can't log on to the internet on that computer without my library card password, so what can I do?"
That wasn't hard to follow, right?
Here is where the story gets strange:
The lady was like, "Do you have a library card?"
Uh yeah, that's the barcode I entered...
So she pulls my file up on her screen.
"Is this your phone number?"
Yes.
"Is your phone number 652?"
Yes that is my phone number, the one you are showing me on the screen.
"Is your number 2148?"
Yes, that number is my phone number!!!
"652 2148?"
Yup.
"So do you remember your password?"
No!
"You forgot your password?"
Yes.
"Do you have a password?"
I don't remember.
"It's not showing me your password, I can't see it."
Well my password is gone anyway and a new one has been sent to my email... which I can't access from those computers because only people with passwords can log on to the internet here... right?
"Do you want a new password?"
Yes.
"Do you want me to make you a new password?"
Yyyeeesss.
"Do you want me to make you a new password now?"
Yes! (Smile!)
"Ok I will use your phone number so you will remember it."
Ok.
"Ok?"
Ok.
"Is it 2148?"
Yes.
"Is your phone number 2148?"
Yes!
"Do you want your new password to be 2148?"
OK!!!!
"Your new password is 2148... all right?"
All right.
"Ok so it's 2148."
Phew.
Why did she have to ask me each question so many times? Was I really that hard to understand?
"I used the computers here to try and put a hold on this one book, but after I entered my library card's bar code, the computer asked for a password. Even though I just got this new library card a couple of weeks ago, I can't remember anything about a password! So I hit the 'forgot password' button and it gave me a message that a new password has been sent to my email. But I can't log on to the internet on that computer without my library card password, so what can I do?"
That wasn't hard to follow, right?
Here is where the story gets strange:
The lady was like, "Do you have a library card?"
Uh yeah, that's the barcode I entered...
So she pulls my file up on her screen.
"Is this your phone number?"
Yes.
"Is your phone number 652?"
Yes that is my phone number, the one you are showing me on the screen.
"Is your number 2148?"
Yes, that number is my phone number!!!
"652 2148?"
Yup.
"So do you remember your password?"
No!
"You forgot your password?"
Yes.
"Do you have a password?"
I don't remember.
"It's not showing me your password, I can't see it."
Well my password is gone anyway and a new one has been sent to my email... which I can't access from those computers because only people with passwords can log on to the internet here... right?
"Do you want a new password?"
Yes.
"Do you want me to make you a new password?"
Yyyeeesss.
"Do you want me to make you a new password now?"
Yes! (Smile!)
"Ok I will use your phone number so you will remember it."
Ok.
"Ok?"
Ok.
"Is it 2148?"
Yes.
"Is your phone number 2148?"
Yes!
"Do you want your new password to be 2148?"
OK!!!!
"Your new password is 2148... all right?"
All right.
"Ok so it's 2148."
Phew.
Why did she have to ask me each question so many times? Was I really that hard to understand?
2008-11-27
Far Out
I wonder why the west coast of North America is called "out" as in "going out west." And why is Asia called "far" as in "the far east"?
And where the hell am I?
Far east, out west, out west, far east...
It seems that no matter which continent I am on, I always somehow find myself in the far-out east/west.
And where the hell am I?
Far east, out west, out west, far east...
It seems that no matter which continent I am on, I always somehow find myself in the far-out east/west.
Yoga Camp
Here is a poem. It is fiction (meaning that this did not actually happen to me) but of course I can relate to the basic idea!
YOGA CAMP
They said balance
and I did not understand the concept.
They said use your core to stabilize your ascent
and I did not see the connection to the spiritual quest.
They said relax
and I railed, "I AM ALREADY RELAXED!!!"
That about ended it
and I was asked not to come back to yoga camp.
YOGA CAMP
They said balance
and I did not understand the concept.
They said use your core to stabilize your ascent
and I did not see the connection to the spiritual quest.
They said relax
and I railed, "I AM ALREADY RELAXED!!!"
That about ended it
and I was asked not to come back to yoga camp.
Something from before
Here is something from before. Before I got sick, before everything in my life totally changed. It feels strange that it was not even very long ago. This was originally posted on Facebook and I thought I would post it up here again to show that I once was a normal person, but that even then, I was always in transit. Yeah I have been doing a lot of thinking lately, now that I am almost 30, wondering about how I've been affected by spending half my twenties like a rolling stone with no direction home.
Cierra and Mark Go To Kunming, Part One: THE TRAIN
Cierra and Mark Go To Kunming, Part One: THE TRAIN
After the Hang On The Box show, which was the night after New Pants, Mark and I went back for our last sleep at Jason's place in the diplomatic compound. The next day we set out on a 40-hour train journey to our next destination: Kunming, known in China as the City of Eternal Spring!
On the train, we passed through the provinces of Hubei, Hunan, Guizhou, and Yunnan. I was harassed several times by a railway worker with a disturbingly robotic voice who insisted on telling me stories, very loudly, in very nasal English. He also refered to Mark and I as "dinks". Apparently in China "dink" means "double income no kids"... actually I had heard that before, but isn't that for married people who are well into their 30s and have already decided to permanently not have kids? This guy was ticking me off anyway and I had already used pretty clear body language to show him that I was busy writing, so I just turned my head back to my book and told him not to say that word anymore because it has another meaning, a bad meaning.
"WHAT WORD, DINK? DINK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH DINK? WHAT IS THE BAD MEANING OF THE WORD DINK? DINK?"
"Nothing. No meaning. Stop talking."
"MY JOB IS TEN HOURS WORKING THEN REST, AND SO ON, THREE DAYS TO BEIJING THEN THREE DAYS BACK TO KUNMING THEN THREE DAYS OFF."
"I know, you've said so several times already."
"MY WIFE IS A NEUROLOGIST."
I tried not to laugh but all I could picture was this woman marrying him so she'd have a constantly available experimental test subject, and then not being able to stand him and shipping him off to work on the train on the longest, farthest route she could find...
Luckily, the other people in the train were fun. There was He Hao, Liu Pu Quan, and a wierd little kid whose name I never learned.
He Hao is an engineering student in Beijing and was on his way back to his home in Kunming for the holiday. He called his dad from the train and asked him to help find a place for us to stay when we arrived. When we got to Kunming, his dad was even waiting for us all at the train station and took us out for breakfast. He Hao's brother even invited us to his wedding next Saturday and of course we are going to go.
Liu Pu Quan is a true Dongbei (Northeast) guy from Jilin. He has three girlfriends who don't know about each other although their photos are all stored in his cell phone, and he dreams of opening rou chuanr stops on the sidewalks of every town, wherever he goes... even though he doesn't even eat rou chuanr himself. He had just graduated from tech school in Beijing and had been assigned to a work unit in the far southwest, farther than Kunming, and was on his way with only a backpack to the place he would stay and work, without leaving, for at least the next three years. He was headed about as far from his hometown as you can go without leaving the country.
Then there was the wierd little kid. He seemed so tame at first. I came back from getting some food in the food car of the train and saw a sweet little boy sitting at the window table with Mark studying Chinese character flash cards together. The little guy looked up and politely excused himself when he saw me arrive with the food. About 20 minutes later he showed up with some chicken feet for us and left again. Very sweet. Next, Mark and I took out our Sudoku books and were subjected to ridicule by He Hao and Liu Pu Quan for playing such obviously simple games for little kids. We said ok fine, you play with it... and our two compartment mates quickly found themselves stranded because they had boastfully started with "difficult" instead of "beginner"! The little guy came back and I taught him to play crazy eights. Mark went for a nap on an upper bunk and after Liu Pu Quan and He Hao admitted that Sudoku wasn't a game for babies, they joined the little boy and I for Nanaimo Rummy. It was all going very well until the little boy lost interest in the cards and noticed that Mark was missing. It didn't take long for him to spot Mark on the upper bunk, at which point his monkey limbs came out and he was swinging from the side of Mark's bed, shouting, "味， 老外，你 在干什么？" ("Hey foreigner whatcha doin?") at the top of his lungs, and clambering up to stick his head in Mark's shirt.
A moment later he was crouched back on the floor between the berths, wide-eyed and pale. "I looked in his shirt... and from here to here," indicating his neck to his belt, "it's ALL HAIR!" Liu Pu Quan seemed interested ("really?") but He Hao rolled his eyes. I said to the kid, "you're going to embarass him. Don't talk about him to everyone on the train." Then the kid started going bonkers! I had to put away the cards so he wouldn't wreck them and as I started to hide my sudoku book too, the kid even grabbed my sudoku book! He was flopping and flipping on the bunks and shouting and going apeshit! I tried ignoring him but to no avail. He Hao and I tried looking at a book together but the kid kept kicking and yelling and saying that he wanted something sweet to eat. Oh my god. How did Mark manage to sleep through all this? Finally He Hao gave up and realized there was no choice other than to wear the kid out. So he grabbed him and tickled him and held him upside-down and then held him down on the bunk and let him squirm. The kid's squirms got more intense so He Hao and I picked him up by the wrists and ankles and dragged him down the aisle pretending we were looking for a big enough garbage can to throw him in. He wriggled away and ran back to our bunks and started going wacky again! So He Hao just held him down, until finally, he was successful and the kid lost his energy and became docile again. Mark was still asleep.
Maybe I'd rather be DINK after all...
On the train, we passed through the provinces of Hubei, Hunan, Guizhou, and Yunnan. I was harassed several times by a railway worker with a disturbingly robotic voice who insisted on telling me stories, very loudly, in very nasal English. He also refered to Mark and I as "dinks". Apparently in China "dink" means "double income no kids"... actually I had heard that before, but isn't that for married people who are well into their 30s and have already decided to permanently not have kids? This guy was ticking me off anyway and I had already used pretty clear body language to show him that I was busy writing, so I just turned my head back to my book and told him not to say that word anymore because it has another meaning, a bad meaning.
"WHAT WORD, DINK? DINK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH DINK? WHAT IS THE BAD MEANING OF THE WORD DINK? DINK?"
"Nothing. No meaning. Stop talking."
"MY JOB IS TEN HOURS WORKING THEN REST, AND SO ON, THREE DAYS TO BEIJING THEN THREE DAYS BACK TO KUNMING THEN THREE DAYS OFF."
"I know, you've said so several times already."
"MY WIFE IS A NEUROLOGIST."
I tried not to laugh but all I could picture was this woman marrying him so she'd have a constantly available experimental test subject, and then not being able to stand him and shipping him off to work on the train on the longest, farthest route she could find...
Luckily, the other people in the train were fun. There was He Hao, Liu Pu Quan, and a wierd little kid whose name I never learned.
He Hao is an engineering student in Beijing and was on his way back to his home in Kunming for the holiday. He called his dad from the train and asked him to help find a place for us to stay when we arrived. When we got to Kunming, his dad was even waiting for us all at the train station and took us out for breakfast. He Hao's brother even invited us to his wedding next Saturday and of course we are going to go.
Liu Pu Quan is a true Dongbei (Northeast) guy from Jilin. He has three girlfriends who don't know about each other although their photos are all stored in his cell phone, and he dreams of opening rou chuanr stops on the sidewalks of every town, wherever he goes... even though he doesn't even eat rou chuanr himself. He had just graduated from tech school in Beijing and had been assigned to a work unit in the far southwest, farther than Kunming, and was on his way with only a backpack to the place he would stay and work, without leaving, for at least the next three years. He was headed about as far from his hometown as you can go without leaving the country.
Then there was the wierd little kid. He seemed so tame at first. I came back from getting some food in the food car of the train and saw a sweet little boy sitting at the window table with Mark studying Chinese character flash cards together. The little guy looked up and politely excused himself when he saw me arrive with the food. About 20 minutes later he showed up with some chicken feet for us and left again. Very sweet. Next, Mark and I took out our Sudoku books and were subjected to ridicule by He Hao and Liu Pu Quan for playing such obviously simple games for little kids. We said ok fine, you play with it... and our two compartment mates quickly found themselves stranded because they had boastfully started with "difficult" instead of "beginner"! The little guy came back and I taught him to play crazy eights. Mark went for a nap on an upper bunk and after Liu Pu Quan and He Hao admitted that Sudoku wasn't a game for babies, they joined the little boy and I for Nanaimo Rummy. It was all going very well until the little boy lost interest in the cards and noticed that Mark was missing. It didn't take long for him to spot Mark on the upper bunk, at which point his monkey limbs came out and he was swinging from the side of Mark's bed, shouting, "味， 老外，你 在干什么？" ("Hey foreigner whatcha doin?") at the top of his lungs, and clambering up to stick his head in Mark's shirt.
A moment later he was crouched back on the floor between the berths, wide-eyed and pale. "I looked in his shirt... and from here to here," indicating his neck to his belt, "it's ALL HAIR!" Liu Pu Quan seemed interested ("really?") but He Hao rolled his eyes. I said to the kid, "you're going to embarass him. Don't talk about him to everyone on the train." Then the kid started going bonkers! I had to put away the cards so he wouldn't wreck them and as I started to hide my sudoku book too, the kid even grabbed my sudoku book! He was flopping and flipping on the bunks and shouting and going apeshit! I tried ignoring him but to no avail. He Hao and I tried looking at a book together but the kid kept kicking and yelling and saying that he wanted something sweet to eat. Oh my god. How did Mark manage to sleep through all this? Finally He Hao gave up and realized there was no choice other than to wear the kid out. So he grabbed him and tickled him and held him upside-down and then held him down on the bunk and let him squirm. The kid's squirms got more intense so He Hao and I picked him up by the wrists and ankles and dragged him down the aisle pretending we were looking for a big enough garbage can to throw him in. He wriggled away and ran back to our bunks and started going wacky again! So He Hao just held him down, until finally, he was successful and the kid lost his energy and became docile again. Mark was still asleep.
Maybe I'd rather be DINK after all...
2008-11-26
DysenterySlim(TM)
This is my sad-but-true experience disguised as a joke. Read on but please laugh, don't cry :-) (by the way, it wasn't really dysentery, it was actually an extra bad strain of e. coli.. but dysentery sounds more 3rd world, so.)
Ancient Beauty Secrets of the Third World Finally Revealed!
Reading this letter might change your life.
If you’re anything like most women, ever since puberty you’ve longed for a slimmer, trimmer, more feminine figure. I’m writing today to share with you a remarkable secret – one which has already helped me drop not one, not two, but 9 dress sizes over the past month! That’s right – the process was not only INEXPENSIVE and EASY to follow, but took ONLY one month. And today I’m going to share it with YOU!
Now you too can attain a slim and beautiful figure thanks to DysenterySlim™ – the ancient Third World diet secret now available for the first time to more Western women (women like YOU) than ever before!
Join millions of women throughout history in ridding yourself of ugly fat, today! Attain your unreasonable weight and size ideals! Quickly banish unsightly bulges, extra padding... even lose enough weight to stop your menstruation! It all depends how far you want to go: with DysenterySlim™ anything is possible!
Just a few drops of DysenterySlim™’s special formula* in your food or beverage is all you need to jumpstart our all-natural weight-loss experience! The entire process will be supervised by a trained** medical doctor at a very reasonable rate***. Just one month later, your friends, family, and HANDSOME STRANGERS will not BELIEVE the new YOU!
*special formula consists of naturally contaminated water from the third world
**medical doctors have certificates that are valid in third world countries only
***third world hospital fees total approximately 32.59 USD for two weeks of treatment
But don’t take my word for it. Here’s what other successful DysenterySlim™ survivors have to say!
“I haven’t been this skinny since I was 12!”
-Jane, 25
“With the exchange rate, the hospital fees were really cheap. I didn’t even bother contacting my insurance company for coverage.”
-Nancy, 21
“I can’t believe it! All my favourite pants from my too-small box that I’d been saving for YEARS in case they ever fit me again ALL FIT ME NOW!”
-Marie, 30
“It was really easy. All I had to do was drink the formula. Then for the next three weeks, I relaxed in bed and drank 70 litres of delicious lemon-flavoured oral rehydration salts dissolved in Evian! I even got a bit of exercise going back and forth to the toilets!”
-Staci, 23
“I look like a fuckin’ supermodel!”
-Hawaii, 26
“The thing that’s different about this diet is that even though your breasts actually do shrink, they totally don’t shrink as much as the rest of your body!”
-Pammy, 28
“The special formula was really easy to swallow. I had mine in a tabouli salad and a waxberry smoothie at a tourist restaurant. I couldn’t even taste the DysenterySlim™ and it didn’t even really click that I was finally going to lose all this weight until the next morning when the process began. By that time I don’t even think I could have prevented it!”
-Hannah, 28
“My camouflage miniskirt that I haven’t been able to wear since grade ten looks absolutely HOT on me now!”
-Rebeccah, 34
“The rats in the hospital were actually kind of cute!”
-Chandini, 18
Well, girls, if you are not convinced by all of that GLOWING survivor testimony, then let me add a FEW QUICK FACTS that will help you make YOUR decision to join the MOST EFFECTIVE diet plan EVER!
*DysenterySlim™’s special formula occurs NATURALLY in NATURE! This is the only diet system on the market that was designed by GOD!
*DysenterySlim™’s revolutionary approach using a special formula containing only naturally contaminated drinking water from Third World countries is effective on ANY woman, regardless of previous dieting experience!
*DysenterySlim™’s special formula, because it is bottled at source, is delivered to the consumer – YOU – at a mere FRACTION of the price of other diet pills, creams, and preparations!
*DysenterySlim™’s fast and effective process is overseen by trained medical doctors** in Third World Countries whose fees are often LESS THAN 1% of what you would pay at home!
*DysenterySlim™ lets YOU, the affluent Western consumer, attain body weights that previously belonged only to the beautiful and exotic women you’ve long envied on the pages of glossy international publications such as National Geographic and Fighting Famine Today!
*DysenterySlim™ is not only a quick and successful diet – it is also a cultural experience! Now YOU TOO can share the same glamorously feminine silhouette that has been enjoyed by millions of poverty-stricken, malnourished, chronically dehydrated women across the world who have no access to clean water!
___________________________________
Ancient Beauty Secrets of the Third World Finally Revealed!
Reading this letter might change your life.
If you’re anything like most women, ever since puberty you’ve longed for a slimmer, trimmer, more feminine figure. I’m writing today to share with you a remarkable secret – one which has already helped me drop not one, not two, but 9 dress sizes over the past month! That’s right – the process was not only INEXPENSIVE and EASY to follow, but took ONLY one month. And today I’m going to share it with YOU!
Now you too can attain a slim and beautiful figure thanks to DysenterySlim™ – the ancient Third World diet secret now available for the first time to more Western women (women like YOU) than ever before!
Join millions of women throughout history in ridding yourself of ugly fat, today! Attain your unreasonable weight and size ideals! Quickly banish unsightly bulges, extra padding... even lose enough weight to stop your menstruation! It all depends how far you want to go: with DysenterySlim™ anything is possible!
Just a few drops of DysenterySlim™’s special formula* in your food or beverage is all you need to jumpstart our all-natural weight-loss experience! The entire process will be supervised by a trained** medical doctor at a very reasonable rate***. Just one month later, your friends, family, and HANDSOME STRANGERS will not BELIEVE the new YOU!
*special formula consists of naturally contaminated water from the third world
**medical doctors have certificates that are valid in third world countries only
***third world hospital fees total approximately 32.59 USD for two weeks of treatment
But don’t take my word for it. Here’s what other successful DysenterySlim™ survivors have to say!
“I haven’t been this skinny since I was 12!”
-Jane, 25
“With the exchange rate, the hospital fees were really cheap. I didn’t even bother contacting my insurance company for coverage.”
-Nancy, 21
“I can’t believe it! All my favourite pants from my too-small box that I’d been saving for YEARS in case they ever fit me again ALL FIT ME NOW!”
-Marie, 30
“It was really easy. All I had to do was drink the formula. Then for the next three weeks, I relaxed in bed and drank 70 litres of delicious lemon-flavoured oral rehydration salts dissolved in Evian! I even got a bit of exercise going back and forth to the toilets!”
-Staci, 23
“I look like a fuckin’ supermodel!”
-Hawaii, 26
“The thing that’s different about this diet is that even though your breasts actually do shrink, they totally don’t shrink as much as the rest of your body!”
-Pammy, 28
“The special formula was really easy to swallow. I had mine in a tabouli salad and a waxberry smoothie at a tourist restaurant. I couldn’t even taste the DysenterySlim™ and it didn’t even really click that I was finally going to lose all this weight until the next morning when the process began. By that time I don’t even think I could have prevented it!”
-Hannah, 28
“My camouflage miniskirt that I haven’t been able to wear since grade ten looks absolutely HOT on me now!”
-Rebeccah, 34
“The rats in the hospital were actually kind of cute!”
-Chandini, 18
Well, girls, if you are not convinced by all of that GLOWING survivor testimony, then let me add a FEW QUICK FACTS that will help you make YOUR decision to join the MOST EFFECTIVE diet plan EVER!
*DysenterySlim™’s special formula occurs NATURALLY in NATURE! This is the only diet system on the market that was designed by GOD!
*DysenterySlim™’s revolutionary approach using a special formula containing only naturally contaminated drinking water from Third World countries is effective on ANY woman, regardless of previous dieting experience!
*DysenterySlim™’s special formula, because it is bottled at source, is delivered to the consumer – YOU – at a mere FRACTION of the price of other diet pills, creams, and preparations!
*DysenterySlim™’s fast and effective process is overseen by trained medical doctors** in Third World Countries whose fees are often LESS THAN 1% of what you would pay at home!
*DysenterySlim™ lets YOU, the affluent Western consumer, attain body weights that previously belonged only to the beautiful and exotic women you’ve long envied on the pages of glossy international publications such as National Geographic and Fighting Famine Today!
*DysenterySlim™ is not only a quick and successful diet – it is also a cultural experience! Now YOU TOO can share the same glamorously feminine silhouette that has been enjoyed by millions of poverty-stricken, malnourished, chronically dehydrated women across the world who have no access to clean water!
___________________________________
BY THE WAY if you are envying me at all right right now in that masochistic fashion-magazine-reading heart of yours, give your head a shake... Hate your thighs or your butt?? Be thankful for what you've got!!! Lotsa women and little girls in our world have to walk for six hours to bring water to their families every day, and it's usually not even clean or safe water at that!! If you want to lose weight donate your CAKE MONEY to UNICEF!!! www.unicef.org
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