China had a Big Earthquake.
Last weekend I hiked the mountains between two villages, one in Shanxi and one in Hubei.
I also went to a bathhouse where every Chinese man there stared directly at my junk. In the pool, in the sauna, even when I went to close the bathroom door so that I didn't have to smell shit.
Next weekend I'm going to an orphanage.
I wrote a biography for a dead pilot.
If study abroad is a chance for people to notch one liners of "experience" onto their belts I'm well on my way to filling a wardrobe. And naturally, any of these experiences will lose its mystique when sufficiently explained. I don't refrain from elaborating for this reason, but rather my own lack of interest in the things I do and unwillingness to expend the effort it requires to present these experiences with a facade of implausibility. Some call this laziness. I think it's more about being realistic. Too often the measure of our lives is in how good a story it makes at a party.
All we are is dust in the wind. And if that's true and you believe it, then you get a sort of Teflon-coating for any experiences which fall short of impacting eternity. On the good days I forget this fact. Today isn't one of those.
About Me
- Chris Chambers
- In a post-modern age with corporate attempts to virally market, metawareness is on the rise by both content producers and content consumers. Wherever they confusingly collide, Satire?blog will be there, reporting on the ineffable qualities of stuff I want to write about.
1 comment:
I'd stare at your junk if I were there. It probably looks like James Carville except without the glasses.
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