Farewell Frenchman O
Today began automatically better than yesterday because not only did i find proper tea in the market (and a far-flung market it is), but i also went shopping for books and found a Rohinton Mistry novel i've been looking for for about 3 months... the book is titled A Fine Balance and anyone even remotely interested in India should pick it up, or at least just say they read it. With tea and lit in the mix, i now declare myself fit for tomorrow's long-haul train ride.
I'm still an anxious wreck of emotions though, being pulled into Shanghai by an obligation while being pulled everywhere else all at once by whimsy. For the past 3 days i've been engaged in a lovely platonic fling with Frenchman O, which essentially amounts to obscene amounts of coffee, boozing, dinner for two, walks along the harborfront and other pleasantries. We've been combing the streets for funky galleries and alternative spaces, and we've found some amazing shit... namely the Most Bitchin Photo Exhibit, Like, EVER! as well as the allegedly bitchin retrospective on the past 4 decades of chinese art, which was a very surprising bust. Anyway, the photo exhibit was organized by a gallery that has a branch in paris and virtually every other kickass locale the world and had to do with photos of the new york 'underground' arts scene in the 60s through the 80s. Lots of debbie harry, lou reed, the ramones, patti smith, and then divine got into the mix with some very racy portraits. Personal favs included photos by Leee Black Childers and Gerard Malanga. They even played a track off of her album Maid In England, which busted my bubble that i was the only person in the civilized world to actually own the album and listen to it regularly. Anyway, tonight O left for Paris and i'll eat alone once again, just as confused as ever.
I'd like to say that what i need is clarity, but then again i have to ask myself: just when has clarity had ANY bearing whatsoever on my so-called decision making skills? In any case, things won't make sense until i settle down into a routine and that realization has actually made the confusion even more difficult to bear. I guess it's a late-mid-twenties self-critical crisis... always second-guessing myself because i know i could be doing something way more interesting and exciting. Something that involves landing in Aden in an old frigate or jumping railcars in siberia in the name of research. Everyone teaches english and i think if i continue with it, my life is going to become dull from it in no time flat. I meeting people with horror stories...
There's a flipside though, as with everything i guess. Today was really my last day in Hong Kong and i found myself surrounded by beautiful things, people, sensations, you name it... i suppose if you wanna be simple about it you could say today was a good day. The sunlight illuminated the glass of the skyscrapers and threw linear glares and rectangular rainbows on the streets, the weather cooperated fabulously with no smog or rain, i had wonderful coffee and discovered the work of surrealist fashion designer Victoria Chu. In one of the galleries i caught a reflection of myself in the glass of one of the installations... i looked so young framed there, where none of the lines or anxieties of my travels or habits could be seen. It made me laugh and wish i had a top hat for some reason. I dunno, just everything about today made me feel ready to hop on the train to shanghai, to jump into another new life and see where it all goes at least one more time. As of right now i'm absolutely starving but i can't bring myself to leave the building... i can't bear to eat alone again.
I don't think i would be in what spirits i'm in had i not met Frenchman O (that's what i actually call him, i know -- LAME) but the beauty of it was that he was the first person i've met on my travels who understands that brevity doesn't have to equate to sleazy flings. It's like transience with class, and i believe in men once more.
We'll see how long it lasts.
I'm still an anxious wreck of emotions though, being pulled into Shanghai by an obligation while being pulled everywhere else all at once by whimsy. For the past 3 days i've been engaged in a lovely platonic fling with Frenchman O, which essentially amounts to obscene amounts of coffee, boozing, dinner for two, walks along the harborfront and other pleasantries. We've been combing the streets for funky galleries and alternative spaces, and we've found some amazing shit... namely the Most Bitchin Photo Exhibit, Like, EVER! as well as the allegedly bitchin retrospective on the past 4 decades of chinese art, which was a very surprising bust. Anyway, the photo exhibit was organized by a gallery that has a branch in paris and virtually every other kickass locale the world and had to do with photos of the new york 'underground' arts scene in the 60s through the 80s. Lots of debbie harry, lou reed, the ramones, patti smith, and then divine got into the mix with some very racy portraits. Personal favs included photos by Leee Black Childers and Gerard Malanga. They even played a track off of her album Maid In England, which busted my bubble that i was the only person in the civilized world to actually own the album and listen to it regularly. Anyway, tonight O left for Paris and i'll eat alone once again, just as confused as ever.
I'd like to say that what i need is clarity, but then again i have to ask myself: just when has clarity had ANY bearing whatsoever on my so-called decision making skills? In any case, things won't make sense until i settle down into a routine and that realization has actually made the confusion even more difficult to bear. I guess it's a late-mid-twenties self-critical crisis... always second-guessing myself because i know i could be doing something way more interesting and exciting. Something that involves landing in Aden in an old frigate or jumping railcars in siberia in the name of research. Everyone teaches english and i think if i continue with it, my life is going to become dull from it in no time flat. I meeting people with horror stories...
There's a flipside though, as with everything i guess. Today was really my last day in Hong Kong and i found myself surrounded by beautiful things, people, sensations, you name it... i suppose if you wanna be simple about it you could say today was a good day. The sunlight illuminated the glass of the skyscrapers and threw linear glares and rectangular rainbows on the streets, the weather cooperated fabulously with no smog or rain, i had wonderful coffee and discovered the work of surrealist fashion designer Victoria Chu. In one of the galleries i caught a reflection of myself in the glass of one of the installations... i looked so young framed there, where none of the lines or anxieties of my travels or habits could be seen. It made me laugh and wish i had a top hat for some reason. I dunno, just everything about today made me feel ready to hop on the train to shanghai, to jump into another new life and see where it all goes at least one more time. As of right now i'm absolutely starving but i can't bring myself to leave the building... i can't bear to eat alone again.
I don't think i would be in what spirits i'm in had i not met Frenchman O (that's what i actually call him, i know -- LAME) but the beauty of it was that he was the first person i've met on my travels who understands that brevity doesn't have to equate to sleazy flings. It's like transience with class, and i believe in men once more.
We'll see how long it lasts.