Shanghai Vixen

Living in China, one sometimes feels back in high school. Skins are so thin, tempers run so high, storms rage in teacups.

This week: a simpering girl packaged as Cantostarlet gets photographed in her skivvies, and the Hongkies get their panties in a bunch. Why can't our beloved stars be allowed to ruin otherwise mediocre films with their bad acting? Please, like she's not already a media whore already. This is why I like Shu Qi, yes she started in porn, yes she'll do revealing love scenes, and damn she's sexy. Vixen to Gillian Chung: laugh it off, and be flattered that anyone wants to see your scrawny ass in undies.

The other is the flap over a blogger called Chinabounder. He's your typically skanky white guy fucking lots of Chinese women, only he blogs about what the rest just boast about in the pub. Now there's an online witchhunt to reveal his identity and get him kicked out.  I don't really care: the online fanaticism is a bit scary, but this dude totally brought it upon himself. Then again, the women who fuck skanky laowai also deserve what they get, if they're desperate/pathetic enough to find the monkeys exotic and sex with them rebellious. They deserve each other. Cleans the rot out the meat market, leaving more prime selection for me.

Also, jerks like this make all of us monkeys in China look bad.  Especially those of us who miscegenate.  It doesn't really translate for women, people always seem happy to see a Chinese guy getting some white meat for a change, but all the nice, polite white boys devoted to their interesting, adventurous Chinese girlfriends or wives get clumped in with the skankers. For all I rag on the white man, there are plenty who are not bounders.

I think the real anger is not at the behavior, but at the pointing it out. Chinese girls are slutty. Not all, not most, but a sizeable minority. Sluttiness is much more common among Chinese women than American women. I'm all for confident sexuality, sisters gettin' some and enjoying it, but many Chinese women are disturbingly calculated about it. They feign innocence, play up men for money and gifts, cheat on their boyfriends and husbands...it's manipulative, about power, not the simple pleasure of fucking. This phenomenon is among China's many skeletons jostling in the closet, and we know how much the society hates having those mentioned.

Twin outrage

Updated: 2006-08-30 08:18

 

Twin outrage: Film star Jackie Chan and other artistes take part in a protest, Aug. 29, in Hong Kong against local magazine "Easy Finder," which published semi-nude photos of Hong Kong pop star Gillian Chung. Earlier this week, the weekly published photos of Chung  from the popular Canto-pop duo Twins  changing clothes backstage after a concert in Malaysia. The incident has sparked an uproar among fans, women's rights groups and the entertainment industry in Hong Kong. The words on the T-shirts read "To tolerate evil is to encourage evil-doers" and "With resentment and disgust." [China Daily]

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My mother tries to guilt trip me, but doesn't realize that I'm completely immune to such theatrics. I WOULD like to have nothing more to do with her, but sheer pity prevents me. Pity doesn't extend far enough, though, to override my defensively self-protective instinctive.

Her latest:

---

[Vixen], have you disowned me as you did ---?  It seems that way.

I never hear from you anymore.  If so, it is a sentence or two responding to my question "Are you there?"

Would you rather I never call you or send emails?

I feel like I am always a bother to you. Certainly not one who is highly regarded.

If you are angry at me for some reason, please let me know.

If you are unhappy that I wasn't ready when we met for lunch last time (my clock WAS 15 min. off), then let me know.

If you blame me for ruining your life by moving to Lakeside, then let me know (remember...YOU were the one who wanted to live in the country, have animals, etc., and for me to DIE there--you tried to get me to promise that I would never move away, as you wanted that to always be your "home" to return to.

I don't know what is going on.

It is not normal to hear from ones daughter only two times in 5 months, and both of those were times when I emailed you with a question.

It seems to me that you FEEL that YOUR LIFE BEGAN WHEN YOU MOVED TO LA JOLLA (at my urging--to go to LJHS) AND
THAT ANY PRIOR MEMORIES OR LESSONS LEARNED WERE TOTALLY ELIMINATED.

Is that true?

You used to be so kind and gentle, and polite, and everyone I knew looked up to you.  Now, it seems that we are all
RUBISH.

I WOULD REALLY LIKE AN EXPLANATION!!

I am pecking away on the book project, Bohohu - I haven't written anything yet (*bad! Vixen*), but have been doing interviews. Mostly reconnecting with old friends, and meeting new players in the music scene. The "interviews" quickly turn into discussions, which is bad if I want to sell the footage for radio (but not that bad since most is in Chinese will be dubbed into English first). What's funny is how quickly and completely I've been sucked back into the music world, after a hiatus of two years after the Jifu break-up. I am now helping a peformance venue sort out its permit problems, helping arrange a screening for a Beijing music documentary and a concert for the band it's about, and liaising between Jifu's record company and a magazine to distribute the former's albums with the latter. Plus lots of plugging events and bands to the press.

The price of hanging out with musicians is a. second hand smoke and b. beer hangovers. The latter has kept me in the house, mostly in bed, all of today. Hey, it's Sunday. Last night, I first went alone to catch part of a multi-band concert at Harleys; go figure when I go alone the only familiar faces are the bands', and that I would spot for the first time in several years the creepy guy who stalked me when I first moved to Shanghai eight years ago. I glugged my beer quickly and removed myself hastily. Then to Yuyintang for the San Huang Ji demo release. I feel bad because I really like the guys in the band, only they used to rather suck. The discipline of recording really has improved their music, and I was quite pleasantly surprised. I am happy to have one more Shanghai group I can cheer for. Lots of bandies were at the show, so we all went out for a late dinner and a long happy blather. I have no idea what about, too much beer involved.

Along with me was my new geeky Irish friend S. and his cute, Japanesque Dongbeinese girlfriend S. It was a bit funny because his Chinese is neglible, and yet he was a good sport and seemed to have a good time.  The Irish is a friend of a friend, a graphic designer and cartoonist, who I met up with for lunch last week. He reminds me a lot of the sort of geeky white guys many of my girlfriends date and marry - into Anime, D&D and such as a kid, a bit socially awkward, and very polite and smart. They actually are now trying to rent the flat downstairs from me, only its landlord after initial enthusiasm is now blowing them off. It really sucks: my rather isolated life would be so nice with fun folks downstairs. Company, easy house/cat-sitters, and handy people at hand in emergencies.

The Irish marks one of two new white boys entering my friendsphere. For assorted reasons, I don't have many heterosexual, Gentile white friends. Jews a plenty, gays I have a few, and Asian and American/British/Canadian-Asian lots, but I have a total of two close straight non-Jewish white male friends. I blame the ego and sense of entitlement that most white boys seem to have, mixed with my sexual indifference to them: they bore me, I threaten them.

The other white boy is my currently visiting China prospective "brother-in-law", the boyfriend of the younger sister in my adopted family the Buffs. He's hiking around Sichuan at the moment, but I had a great few days with him here, and am looking forward to his return. M's a photographer, but without the usual photographer's cockiness. Great sense of humor, easy and interesting to talk to, and very open-minded and curious. Good blather over martinis until 4am on his first night here. We have a commonality in that we are in the Buffs but not of them, which gives an interesting perspective as we gossip a bit guiltily about our shared loved ones.

I took him around some last weekend, and it was just hilarious how hard it is to navigate Shanghai's streets with fresh meat baiting the touts. It's not that he's large and scandinavian, but rather the body language. I've since started studying foreigner body language here, and it really is telling. Just like you can easily tell a Shanghainese from a xiawuning, just from their carriage.

Anyhow, it has been healthy and educational for me to hang out some with cool white boys. Reminds me to keep more of an open mind - they're not ALL pompous assholes. I'm not going to start being attracted to them, that is just never going to happen, but it's good to discover that they can make fun friends.

What is the female equivalent? Blue overies?

And then what is the male equivalent of "The Rules"?

I had a nice second date with the Cute Korean. He picked me up at my house again, which means some of the neighbors leered bemusedly, "Our laowai always picks hotties!"  I took him to Baoluo to sample our Shanghai cuisine. We had a great, animated discussion about families, values, life, relationships, careers, geopolitics, society, history and culture. I admit I don't know much about Korea, or many Koreans - only ABKs, actually - so it was fascinating to hear his perspective on China's anti-Japanese xenophobia, and the general scars of history. We then continued our wide-ranging, rambling discourse over beers in the little old park with the memorial to Tian Han, the founder of modern Chinese drama.

Well, I now know that the Cute Korean is straight and that he's single. I can only conjecture whether he "likes" me or just likes me - he's flirty but reservedly so. He said he hasn't had a girlfriend in a long time: during his first year in Beijing, he knew he'd be going to the US in a year, so it wasn't worth getting involved. And then in the US he'd be returning to China in a year. And now he's graduating in another year, and not sure where work will take him, although he's hoping for Shanghai, is quite enjoying his first time here. "I can't wait to graduate and get a job so I can get a girlfriend," he sighed. I cast about for printed matter to roll up and thwap him with, but none was at hand.

He's not even Christian. I'm guessing this is more of a social/familial conservatism, mixed with an understandable reluctance to add in the wild card of a relationship until he's sorted out other parts of his life. But, geez! Most relationships never make it to the year point anyhow, and if they do, then it's not so hard to navigate: continue on to the same place, LDR it, or break up. Loved and lost, baby.  It reminds me of why I gave up on ABCs after a few attempts in college: that propensity to self-castrate by over-complicating matters. Yes, several thousand permutations of things can go wrong in relationships, but only a few of them actually will, you can't really predict which ones, so stop the hell worrying about ALL of them! I know guys my age who are still virgins for this very reason - that and their hearts, and balls, remain firmly in Mommy Dearest's iron grip. Among the nice thing about Mainland men, they're very quick to bust a move - usually too quick, in fact, and if anything too indifferent to the practical considerations of coupling.

Well, it's comforting, in a way, that there are hot men out there who need to get laid even more than I do.  At least I'm not the only pathetically sexually inactive person around. I'd happily make the first move, and I wish I could just say to him: Look, we're both single, horny and we like each other, let's fuck or something, no strings, no complications." Only he's so reserved, I think his response would be "Eek!" instead of "Excellent suggestion!" If I *really* like a guy, it's worth it to take that risk, but I only mildly like this one.

I spent Saturday hanging out with Iski, and she responded to my gripes about Cute Korean's mixed signals with a reminder that some guys are just shy like that. With her ex, they "dated" four months before so much as holding hands.

I know, but I don't have the patience for that. The long tease just turns them into buddies and kills all the original sexual charge. Plus, I'm just too horny and proactive to wait very long: sure, the fuckage can wait, but kissing, snuggling, stroking cannot. If the main course comes late, damn well better have some appetizers on the table. Otherwise, you give up and go eat somewhere else.

At any rate, Cute Korean is off the menu, discarded from the Crush and Hmm list into the dustbin of guyfriendom. Not to devalue my guyfriends, but lusting for prim men is about as productive as being a fag hag.  And it fucks with your mind.

Why are men such extremes? Either prim shy boys or aggressive sluts? Is cautious hedonism an exclusively female approach? Are males so incapable of multi-tasking that they can only be cautious or hedonists, but never both? Dammit, I fear so.

This one isn't as disturbing as my mom's usual rantings, but it does show her underlying pathology. She is obsessed, completely obsessed, with the past. She remains convinced that if one or two things had been different, than everything would have been different. I agree in a sense. There is one thing that could have been different: if she weren't a whiny, self-rightous, petulant bitch, if she were a woman who took responsibility, made decisions and executed them rather than waiting for other people to bail her out, and then throwing tantrums and blame with cartoonish frequency when they failed to completely meet her impossibly high expectations - if Gege and I had had just one parent who was a sane, mature, responsible, mildly competent adult, then he might have made it.

But the past is as gone as my Gege.  It is worth revisiting once and a while, curling up with a photo album and a cup of tea on a late Autumn night, or swapping stories with old friends over a few cold beers on a lazy Summer Saturday. But do not linger there too long. Live in the past, you may as well be dead. My mother is ample evidence of that. Entrapped in a sepulchre of resentments - but never regrets, because of course nothing is ever her fault.

---

 
Hi [Vixen].  Was good to hear your voice briefly last night, was sorry you could not hear mine. [It WAS a bad connection, I wasn't pretending...this time. Although sometimes I just babble at her in Shanghainese (she's heard me speak Mandarin enough that I fear she'd recognize me still in that) so she thinks it's a wrong number.]  It is 5:14 pm and I cannot find the $1.00 phone card that C. purchased for me (gives us 20 minutes, so I now have an easy way to call you--if we can get the clarity and volume we need).

Anyway, happy day.  [Vixen's crazy uncle] J. is giving all of us (including [Camus] and [Camus' mom], and [Vixen's grandma]) a really hard time.  Blasting us with words.

It's bad [Vixen].  I'm so glad you are not here for this one reason.

My health/energy seems to have really gone downhill the last two years with all his verbal assaults and all the stange things that keep happening here in terms of lecture notes stolen (20 boxes 4 weeks ago, during 3 "visits", and sometimes just moving things around to different places, etc. [And her son's suicide had nothing to do with her decline?]

I know it's him and not a REAL burglar, because a real one would take TV, computers, radios, maybe china.

These things have value only to me, in many respects, and some of the things taken are treasures of [dead Gege's], the last pictures of him, etc., etc.

If I didn't believe in a God who would protect us (until our time here is ended, and only God knows that--and HE IS IN CONTROL OF THAT). So, I keep myself calm, don't panic any more (hey, I'm used to all this now).

But it's bad.  And he could snap at any time. He is so angry at Mom for having helped me and still believes that I am not disabled, I am just pretending so that lazy me and deplete the family resources.

Little does he know that I would have started making a strong re-covery in 1991, had he not talked Dad into giving up the one really good lawyer that I found (which he and mom did, behind my back, not even telling me that they had dismissed him). IF EVER THERE WAS A TIME THAT WE COULD HAVE GOTTEN [Gege]OUT OF THERE
AND TO GET THE RIGHT HELP, AND TO HAVE HIM LIVE ELSEWHERE (I learned that he DIDN'T WANT to live there, he didn't know what to do; and he was told so many times that I DIDN'T LOVE HIM, DIDN'T LIKE HIM, DID NOT WANT TO SEE HIM, WAS CRAZY, MONEY-HUNGRY ETC. that he finally started believing it, but with a very broken heart. [Uncle J.] was the one who insisted they do this, because he was worried about "his" interitance. We had so much good testi-
mony as to the lies they were telling [Gege] (from two therapists who would have gladly come down to San Diego to testify, plus there was the proof of blatently ignoring the court order for both [Gege] and -- to be in weekly therapy.  The therapists down here, and I, saw [her ex brother in law] as a wonderful "solution" to helping [Gege] work
through his anger, of maybe helping --, but [Gege] would never have been "given" to --, not with his track record of abuse to all of us.

THAT WAS SUCH AN UGLY TIME, AND I'M SORRY THAT BOTH YOU AND I HAD TO GO THROUGH IT, AND I FEEL WORST OF ALL FOR [Gege], AS HE NEVER REALLY HAD A CHANCE TO HAVE A LIFE, EXCEPT FOR A GREAT BEGINNING WHEN HE WAS 1,2,3, AND 4.

I would have recovered had that problem and stress been resolved in 1991. But no, Dad took counsel from [Uncle J.], [Uncle E. - the token sane one] didn't really try to help (I think he didn't see that he was needed). On top of that J.
told stories/lies to Dad about me that are totally weird/that could never have been true. E. and I have discussed some of them, and we both agree that this didn't happen (6th grade), this didn't happen (7th grade) etc.

Anyway it is not a good time here.  Also, J.'s wife has run out of her in-heritance, and I think J. made some promise to her that if she would help HIM out, then in time my family would help THEM. The pressure for today is for a replacement car, as the one they got a year ago is a lemon.

I'm glad I have gentle C. to lean on at times. Mom is glad that he is almost in the family, and he has done a lot to help as the house was being emptied out.

If you were here, J. would turn on YOU too. He fired [Camus, his daughter] from helping with the moving out (E. hired her), and he wrote a nasty letter to both [Camus] and [her mom].  He is also blaming me for turning [Camus] against him, and what he doesn't realize it that is his own lack of caring, lack of self-control, ease in blaming and never tak-
ing responsibility THAT ARE BEING SEEN BY [Camus]. I think you know that I don't know [Camus] at all and I have purposely kept a distance because I didn't want him to make assumptions regarding my influence, and thus hate me more (and retaliate). [And Camus is relieved to be left alone.]

It is good that Dad isn't here to have to see all of this.  He tried to deal with the work situation before, like 1985-90 and J. turned on him and Dad was so afraid he had to ask him not to come by the house.

Any way...it's bad.  Pray for Mom. Send her sweet notes, even if they have to be via email for me to read to her.

I'm out of time.

I'll call you as soon as I find that card.

How about a few little sentences to update me on your life. If you think, "OK, 4 sentences", that isn't so time consuming.

We both have been through so much that is SO UGLY, so wrong, so unfair--I think we both would make excellent psychologists, just from life's experience.  FOR ME, I hope I can have the same influence and more through W.Works and AbuseAlert.  I'M NOT GIVING UP MY DREAM FOR THAT JOINT-OUTREACH/HELP THRU' EDUCATION PLAN THAT HAS BEEN WITH ME FOR SO LONG. [Ah, just what the world needs: more mentally-ill shrinks.]

KNOWING THAT MY LIFE EXPERIENCES CAN BE USED TO HELP OTHERS GIVES ME HOPE, AND I HOPE SOON, NEW FRIENDS AND GREAT SATISFACTION.

LOVE YOU,  MOM

Men are so fucking confusing.

So, the Cute Korean is here. He is 1. So nice and interesting, 2. Gets along well with my friends, 3. Is way hotter than I remembered, 4. Is impossible to read. Like, he's touchy, fights for the bill, open doors, and looks at me a lot, but after walking me home, with his hand gently on my shoulder, made zero moves on me.

Interested? Not interested? Hell...

I am incapable of reading men. There, I admit it. I love them, I enjoy them, but I just don't get them.

As far as first dates go, it was a good night. First we went to see my friends' band. CK'd never been to a live show, was a bit odded out.  A bit bad form in that the band's singer, Green Blue, and I seem to have a mutual crush a-budding - I would never, ever go there again, one Jifu is all the fucked up lead singer love life I need, but Green Blue is so sexy in a swaggery alley cat sort of way. Scrawny, charismatic singers with nice smiles are such Vixen-nip.  Every time he grins and winks at me mid-croon, I do swoon a bit. Damn. Such a bad idea. Damn he's cute.  And he has nice fluffy hair... *Pause as Vixen slaps herself a few times*

A cold shower later. Then I took CK to a fashion event I wanted to cover, only it really sucked. No show, strange layout, stingy drinks. He was very patient about it, even hanging nonchalently as Cloudy tried some things on.  Friend of date buying clothing has to be up there with purse carrying in tests of hetero male patience. Then we went for a late dinner with Cloudy and her boyfriend. I was impressed with CK's chatting up the taxi siji, I also enjoy joshing about with the Laobaixing, often they have such fascinating or hilarious things to say, and Shanghainese taxi drivers seem to know more about US politics than most Americans. Damn is Cute Korean's guoyu good, possibly better than mine. 

I have no idea whether he wants to be friends first, or just wants to be friends. He's a lovely guy though. Will see, will see. I like him enough already to be over the whole "Not mainland Chinese=exotic" complex at least. Okay, except that he's very gone native so practically is Chinese. What a weirdo. Definitely my type. If only he was a musician...

A friend emailed me today in response to my latest dispatch. She's an old friend of my grandmother's, a British transplant who writes books about classical music and is a bit of a cantankorous character. She's old-fashioned, judgemental and a bit racist, but she's known my family a long time, is blunt enough to call my mom a bitch to her face, which is always delicious to watch, and is very kind and supportive of me. And I enjoy being friends with someone who is so totally different from me, even though she can sometimes horrify me. She wrote:

Dear [Vixen]:
Happy 30th, [Vixen]!
Any thought of aging should be dispelled by the concept of your facing
this date one day at age 60......
You are basically on the right track by realizing that the worst is
behind you re childhood, upbringing and reasons you find yourself where
you are at the moment.
As for the order of your ambitions, I can cite myself as a prime example!
It has taken 11 years to complete my book-now titled [___]-and if I had not persevered, I would be 11 years older
anyway! As it is, I am 240 pages from finishing proofing the 1100 pages
it came out to.
Re parenting ambitions, I'm old fashioned enough to hold out for a
marriage to go with that, but ONLY if you love the guy. And you will ONLY
find out what he is really like, if you DON'T jump into bed with him for
the first few (yes!) MONTHS!
Proof: in 2 more days, on the 7th, is our 40th wedding anniversary! And
we did NOT "try before we buy(ed)". It hasn't been a bed of roses, but we
have matured into a team & I sure would not want to spend my older years
alone!
You are also wise to put your health first above all & keep in shape.
This becomes the first concern after fifty. [A's husband] cycles about 20 miles
up & down hills with [A's son]. They both have the BP & heart rate of a
teenager. Most women my age have an ugly, aging, paunchy,
health-challenged old man on their hands. (So watch those elements in
males you meet.)
We all have a certain destiny. I, too, was alone and travelled the world
until over 30. It does make it easier to settle down to child rearing
with interesting experiences under your belt. And don't kid yourself, the
moment the baby is born you are on 24/7 the next 18-20 years of your
life.
So Happy Birthday again & drop the F word & others of its ilk. You
definitely are too old for that. Also, dilute the alcohol to zero, it is
definitely NOT a preservative when it comes to the human brain or
bod...........
Only the BEST~~~~~~~
Love, A.

I wrote her back:

Dear A.,

Thanks for your note. I like the observation that the time passes regardless
of how well we use it. I wouldn't say I've wasted the past four years I've
been putting off this book - I've written hundreds of articles, met fabulous
people, travelled the world and learned a lot of things - but I want to have
that sort of concret end-product. Last night I bumped into a friend, a Brit
who's lived in China 20 years and written several books on China and North
Korea, has a successful consulting business here. As he remarked, after a
while the books start writing themselves, because you have so much
information in your head after so many years here, conducting so many
interviews, that you need a place to put it and it all spills quite
naturally out.

We'll have to agree to disagree on marriage. I just honestly have never seen
the point of it. I'm all for commitment, monagamy and the long-haul, but I
don't see how a ceremony and a legal status help or hinder that. The people
who suit each other and work at the relationship stay together, married or
not; those who don't, don't, married or not. If/when I find someone, I want
to have a kick-ass party and finally force all my friends around the globe
to meet each other, but no froufy dress or aisles or ceremonies from
religions I don't believe in for me.

I completely agree that parenthood is best when shared with a loving
partner, not to mention a lot easier. But I've seen too many friends
desperate to marry out of biological clock tickings  They end up single
mothers anyhow after a couple years, and resentful towards the child's
father. I hope I can find that suitable partner within the next few years,
but if not, I think it would be so much better to procreate with one of my
single guy friends, who I love dearly but am not suited for romantically,
and raise a child with someone I love who's a good friend. And full-time
nannies cost $200 a month here.

Generally, I like to take about a month to get to know a guy before sleeping
with him, it usually takes that long to establish the comfort zone, and
there is much to be said for the pleasures of build up and anticipation.
Although for me geography can pose a problem, so sometimes I'm in now or
never situations. But I am so opposed to the manipulative, cock-tease spirit
of "The Rules" and such.  If a guy's worth doing in the first place, I'm
going to want sex as much as he does. If a guy is worth keeping, he won't
think less of a woman who doesn't play the manipulation game. Besides, wait
too long, and then the spark flags and you feel too platonic, or else once
you finally do consummate, it may prove disappointing, and then you've
already wasted several months. I actually envy my friends who can have
one-night stands, and be practical about sex. I am uncapable of completely
ditching my conservative upbringing, and regret that. I'd like to be much
sluttier than I am, but I'm too lazy and cowardly.

I also disagree on alcohol. Yes, I've seen a lot of people spiral into
addiction, but I see a lot more use of it for social enjoyment. A nice buzz
is a pleasant sensation. A summer's day is so enriched by sitting in my
neighborhood French Park, reading a book or writing a letter, while sipping
a cold beer. Champagne is the only thing that saves fashion shows, and
fashion people, from being completely intolerable. My twice or so a month
Martini Nights - I make the best one in Shanghai, hands down - are a great
excuse to gather friends together for stimulating conversation, to
introduce, say, a film director to a rock musician to a journalist to an art
collector. There's a joke that you're not a real Shanghailander until you've
vomited on [Shanghai Vixen]'s couch. And, apart from too-sweet wine, lychee
martinis and other atrocities, booze tastes good. As long as one doesn't
abuse it, and isn't pregnant, there's no reason to deny oneself something so
pleasurable. It would be like giving up the color red, or the taste of
salty. Life is bitter enough, we should embrace all the pleasures it has to
offer.

You see far more people abusing food, especially in the US, than alcohol. I
think the American puritanical spirit really fucks people up, hence
complexes and hang ups about things like booze and sex, and unhealthy
attitudes towards food. There's a binge-purge, "it's a sin" approach. Which
is why so few Americans exercise properly, they approach it as if a task,
rather than a way to enjoy the pleasure of movement. I think people should
embrace our animalness, the basic pleasures, but of course while being
responsible and thoughtful and also appreciating what makes us different
from other kinds of animals. Humans lose so much by forgetting that we, too,
are animals. My philosophy is one of careful hedonism. What is life but to
experience the greatest happiness/pleasure we can with the short life spans
alotted to us?

I love the word fuck. It's so powerful yet playful, and it feels good in the
mouth in the saying of it. Overused, yes, it can lose some of the taboo that
contributes to its delectibility, but it's a good word. The same people who
think it's okay to kill and torture people as long as they're not Americans
or white impose fines for saying fuck on the air: they're fucking wankers.
Except, if they actually wanked more, they'd have less pent up frustration
and anger and would be too happy and relaxed to go off bombing or censoring
things. I forget who it was who wrote that Facists are never lushes, because
good hangover once in a while reminds one of one's own fallibility and human
frailty.

So, we must agree to disagree! :) But thank you for prompting me to examine
why I think as I do.

Take care,
[Vixen] 

Yes, I never get anything useful done on Sundays, do I?

Fascinating article in the NYT: In Georgia, Immigrants Unsettle Old Sense of Place. Because they're too nice to title it, Wow, people are still this racist in America?!

Even in multi-ethnic, laid back SoCal, a lot of the white people - including most of my family - make ignorant and/or racist remarks about immigrant populations, particularly Hispanics. But most people know better than to say them too publicly. Political correctness hasn't eradicated racism in most of America, just driven it underground. I used to get the whole, "I'm white, you're white, let's complain about the Spics" (wince) "together," at which I would either tell them off in Spanish or punch them in the nose. But never anything as bad as this. A few excerpts

“The way the Mexicans have children, they’re going to have a majority here soon,” Mr. Corbitt, 76, said. “I have children and grandchildren,” he said. “They’re going to become second-class citizens. And we’re going to be a third world country here if we don’t do something about it.”

Oh, boo-hoo, poor whites as a minority! So oppressed! (Another whine you hear behind doors from Cali racists: the state is now less than 50% white. Which is one of the best things about the place.) What, don't think your fat lazy grandchildren can compete with hard-working immigrants? It's okay, they can always move to China and teach English.  Or work in a Shenzhen sweatshop supplying Walmart. Oh, and brown skin a third world makes, huh? Wanna try shopping in Tokyo?

“They’re coming here to have babies as quick as they can,” said Mr. Davis, who emphasized that he opposed illegal arrivals, not legal immigration. “And we’re paying for all of those babies.”

...But Mrs. Davis, who is not related to Edwin Davis, said the immigrants had begun to erode the cohesiveness of the community. “Before they come, everybody knew everybody,” she said. “Now you don’t know who is living in the trailer next to you or the second trailer from you.”

Bet if those new neighbors were white, they'd bop right on over with some scary lard-ladden casserole to say Howdy.

Hey, my ancestors were immigrants too. They didn't step off the Mayflower with passport, valid visa and work permit.  "There goes the neighborhood," the Native Americans must have thought. And, sure enough. Any white American complaining about immigrants should move the fuck back to Europe and complain about it there. The Irish who were the ancestors of these morons were fleeing a place far more backward than modern Mexico. And my great-great grandparents probably complained about all the Catholic potato-eaters having too many babies too.

This article, or I should say, these people in this article piss me off. This is why I don't like most white people: this sense of entitlement and unfounded superiority, and the utter lack of intellectual curiousity. There is a substantial minority, maybe 30-40% of white Americans, who are not like this; but this majority, the sort who oppose non-whites, miscegenation, homosexuality, non-Christians, languages besides English, basically anything outside their bland, narrow frame of reference, this sort I have zero use or tolerance for. They make me ashamed to be white, and ashamed to be American. And I often feel like I'm compensating for these losers (especially the ones who travel abroad and act like assholes there, too): "Really, we're not ALL like this!"

There is a profound satisfaction to the experience of finishing something. Writing an article, checking it over, and zipping it off to The Man. Using up the final dregs of a shampoo tube and then tossing it over my shoulder into the bin. Turning the final pages of a book and then mulling where to shelve it.

This latter is a problem. I have a lot of books, and it's been a long while since I arranged them coherently. It doesn't help that I have an eclectica of vintage bookshelves scattered through different rooms. And that's the least of my woes: do I go by genre, subject, author or language? Should my Dario Fo biography go with plays, or bios? And should my collection of 18th Century Spanish plays (I took a course in college, okay? But, yes, I'm a geek.) go in the theater section or the Spanish literature section? And what about 一百年的孤独? Okay, I"m making that one up, but you get the idea: my collection is 50% English, 30% Chinese, 5% Spanish, and 5% assorted language texts and dictionaries. And then 10% art catalogues, historical photo books and such, usually multilingual. You can see my problem.

And, being an egotistical cunt, and one who entertains frequently, I do like to arrange all these as a testament to my erudition. But, really, I'm just a book worm, and rarely passes a Martini Night that does not have me giddily digging about for books to show friends.

"Why would anyone read two books at once?" accused a vapid blonde at an LAX bookstore to her matching friend who just said she was doing so. I chuckled inwardly, since I'm usually reading ten at once. It's a problem, I need help. I can justify four: purse book (must be small and light, since my 20 lb camera takes up all space), toilet book (usually the biggest tome I'm on, but slow going), then gym book and bed book (any size). The problem is that I always end up with several of each going at once - except for gym book, discipline enforced via rental locker. Right now I have all the Malaysia acquisitions I can't wait to dip into, but am making myself tie up loose ends first.

Just finished: Down Under, by Bill Bryson. Quite a pleasant ramble, actually. I started out with the annoyance towards Bryson that most journalists have towards Paul Thoreaux, namely, "I can write better than him...so overrated...*grumble, grumble." Sometimes I consider switching to be a travel writer, there's bigger sales in it, and I'd be damn good; in one of these musings while in the US, I browsed him in a bookstore, and was singularly unimpressed. I admit now: I was wrong, and missed the point. Which is his unpretentious accessibility. Bryson is a competent, unpretentious writer with a positive outlook, a good sense of humor and a knack for engaging description. He's not Naipaul, but then again I've never finished a book by Naipaul. (Where does one shelf Naipaul? Damn.) Anyhow, I now know more about Australia than before, and had an enjoyable vicarious journey (which is, of course, the point of travel books). I am curious to note that there are virtually no such travelogues on Malaysia and much else of SoE Asia, and go "Mmmm" at the observation.

I am almost done with my gym cardio reading, Indonesian Destinies,  a massive but engaging comprehensive history of that most fascinating of entities. Am halfway through Guns, Germs and Steel: very interesting and well-written, but it's a loaner so I don't want to tatter it up by shlepping it around. Half done with Huxley's Antic Hay, already mentioned. Then: the problem with being a writer is that I'm friends with writers, so I have friends' works on North Korea, China and classical music to dutifully digest. Oh, and there's Empire Made Me, which I have been picking at for over a year now. So darn much to finish!

Music: I'm still downloading my way through the Guardian list. Just finished 16 albums by the Beach Boys. The thing about a Beach Boys marathon is that it will make you, one, extremely perky and, two, if you're from SoCal, rather homesick. It's funny to imagine the SoCal of the 1960s that the Beach Boys encapsulate. This was like, omigod, so totally like my mom's adolescence. Before she became completely fucking insane, she was a La Jolla surfer chick, cheerleader and homecoming princess. She has too often regaled me with tales of her first boyfriend, a surfer named "Bud" who she fell in love with when he put a piece of iceplant in her hair. (I know: HOW did I spring from this woman's loins?) The Beach Boys transport me to this world, when La Jolla was blonde kids rushing out from LJHS or from La Jolla Presbeterian to hit the waves. Not the La Jolla I knew, of Jewish and Taiwanese kids sitting at Pannikin swaping physics jokes and Broadway soundtrack references before bopping off to their internships at Scripps. I like modern, multi-ethnic La Jolla and generally Cali better, but it's interesting to glipse the white-bread version my mother knew.

You know, I should be nice and burn her a CD or several of these. It would make her, well, as happy as her misery-fixed self can be. (Although I don't think she knows how to play CDs.) I should top that, and next time I'm back and go for a surfing lesson with cousin Camus and childhood best friend Kauru take her along. She'll be a pain in the ass and complain the entire time, but it would be charitable.

And now I've continued down the list to Sinatra: from my mother's world to my grandmother's. I'm just not that interested in my WASPy roots, but it's interesting to poke at them from time to time.