aric with an a

[This is a bit out of chronological order, apologies. Will transcribe Day's 3-4 of the Nepal Tour in a while]

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I could not run back here fast enough. Out of the penthouse room I - not 30 minutes ago - laughed in my diary about in that, ‘the more expensive the place, the more trust they seem to lend to you’ (seeing how I was living on Nepalese credit for the next few days until my payment came in), past the motorcycle that summed up the tattoo on my left arm, past the hotel employee who is simply so sweet - his zest for getting to America almost bringing me to tears - past….everything.

I ran - kid you not.

The reason being in that somewhere between the beer I didn’t pay for and Kerouac’s ‘On The Road’* it hit me. My constantly growing dread about having to recall - seeing how I didn’t keep a diary, nor did I blog (!) - the early China years of mine for the book were finally put to rest.

‘The Shanghai [Exile] Diaries’ will be coming first. It’s basically written here, and if not here in my diary. And if not in my diary it’s told in the shows. And if not the shows, then the photos. Meaning all I have to do is fill in the blanks. ‘What the fuck has taken me so long to think of this is beyond me’ I wrote in my diary, an entry that holds more CAPITAL letters and underlines (sometimes twice) that anyone who’s not a 13-year old girl should be ashamed to admit.

I’ll write it and self-publish it. Who cares if it doesn’t sell, it’ll be a helluva lot easier than ‘The Shanghai Diaries’, which was to come first. I’ll find out if I actually like doing it. Learn from it. Have something to show if/when some publisher raises more than one eyebrow at my overuse of hyphens.

I’m excited. I sat on the balcony excited. I have good photos, I have funny stories and it’s all travel-based. Never mind that I tend to go on a bit sometimes.

Chapters? Sure - you could probably name them anyway.

1. Fare-fucking-Well China

2. Thailand

3. Bali/Lombok

4. Indonesia

5. Myanmar [Burma]

6. Thailand #2

7. Cambodia

8. Laos

9. Thailand #3 and Pierre

10. India

11. Nepal

12. Back to the States

…with a preview of Mexico.

I’m serious when I say this will be done before 2010.

My previous epiphany, while good - in that, I still was passionate about writing the China Tale - lacked. It was, as my author-friend, Frank, helped ‘You need to decipher ‘mood’ from ’style”. Well, the style I have. I think. Maybe I have an impression of another style I like and I’ll find a way to work with it. Said Beat Writer called it ’spontaneous prose’, which, to anyone who’s followed my drivel can tell you is right up my alley. Sometimes it’s dialog, sometimes sad attempts at being poetic, some basic recollections, - a shitload of random entries.

Whew.

Okay.

*A book that, although I love, refuse to take out in public when traveling, at it makes me feel cliche. And I hate feeling like that. Perhaps that’s why I’m here.

Oh - much to transfer from the ole’ diary to here, some of which include:

1. A long day - one that started with my throwing a poster at the bank manager and ended with me getting kicked out of a friend’s car.

2. The desert - 2 days on a camel + commando was a bad idea. The rest might be up for debate.

3. The night I finally lost it with India’s take on the importance of honesty, the even longer bus ride and breaking down after 3 minutes in Delhi and hopping a flight to Nepal as fast as possible.

4. Kathmandu

…they’re coming - promise (I love how my view of this blog is the masses constantly checking this site for pearls of wisdom instead of bill collectors).

But - thought I might quickly fill you in on my day here. I have less than 2 weeks on my visa and am ready for some fresh air. Lots to see and do, but at the cost of another bus ride.  Which - after 6 months - I’m tired of. So, I wander around and find a motorcycle shop. Some big ole boys for about $8 a day. If I would have known how to ride a motorcycle, I would have rented one and headed off tomorrow.

I rented one and head off tomorrow. Figured that the first few hours of shitting myself pales in comparison to a possible lifetime of regret. Who gets 2 weeks in Nepal, can rent a bike with no license, could spend the days on stretches of road dwarfed by the snow-capped Himalayas and says ‘Naw - I’ll just walk around’? It would have bothered me. So, after posting this, I need to go find a big coat and some gloves. Will also pay some local kid to teach me how to - well - ride a motorbike. I’ve actually never done it. Automatic, sure. But manual? Never.

But I’ve always had to learn quickly when it comes to transport. I stole my parents car when I was 15 and drove - in a blizzard, mind you - 2 hours south to a friends. When my grandpappy offered to buy me the sexy red 4-door on the lot, I didn’t bother to tell him I had never driven a clutch and learned. Quickly. Right there on Memorial, between 31st and 41st. In traffic.

It’s a bad idea - sure. I have no money to cover any damage done to the bike. I have no travel insurance. Nor medical. My parents don’t have enough money to help me should anything happen. A bad idea.

But the world is full of people who let the possibility of a bad outcome ruin their own possible week of memory.

Good luck, me.

Would have liked to spend a little more time on these, but whatareyougonnado.

This is wearing me out, one country a day. Oh, the price of being dependent on public approval.

I’m f*cking tired. Forgive the lack of witty lead up to these. First few are travel orientated, then it moves to all sorts of things - from opium nightmares to, well, a really hot ladyboy…and so much more.

…enjoy.

With today’s Shanghaiist write-up about the up-coming show.

And City Weekend.

Both previous employers.

Shanghaiist wouldn’t even answer an email when I asked if they could support both the exclusive of my friend being thrown in a Chinese jail for a petty crime, and the earthquake that hit Chengdu. Nothing. Not even a ‘thanks, but no thanks’.  But today I find out that Kenneth - who took over reigns from Dan Washburn, who’s now simply overseeing it all - writes a contrived story of the last parts of the Diaries (making sure to mention when Dan’s website of the same name began), all in the name of spin.

In the same hour, I find out that the new ‘editor’ - and I use that term loosely - of City Weekend (taking over from Collin), flat out refuses to run the eulogy I wrote for Pierre, stating ‘there wasn’t enough room’. Which is bullshit. I’ll be sure and take a screenshot of whatever space was sanctioned for paying tribute to the man who actually did something in that town.

Ironic, perhaps, that I log onto Facebook, and my friend Andrew updates his status as being a ‘padawan’. Think others should take note.

Press? Sure. It’s press. But witnessing the downfall of what were previous staples makes me glad I left when I did.

Beware taking on an apprentice; loyalty does not necessarily denote exact duplication.

Might be in over my head here for the next week with everything going on, but here’s a peek at the newest show:

[Best viewed on Safari for some reason - if you can't see the player, click here]

I’ll never forget the intersection I was at yesterday when I got the message, as it will always be associated with a sick feeling. Kind of the way I can never listen to Inner Circle’s ‘Rock With You’ as that was the last song played in my car before I walked up to greet (name removed), my junior-year girlfriend, back from her summer holiday, and she broke up with me…I digress.

There I was, enjoying (as you can see from the previous post) the wonderful town of Solo and I get an SMS from someone who is not known for their over-dramatics saying ‘Please call. Urgent’. This person has never said ‘urgent’ about anything. In fact, this person isn’t the ‘urgent’ type. 3 seconds later they called to inform me that the police had just shown up at their office looking for me, as I had done a few projects out of there. They confiscated my phone number, email address and bank records claiming I was somehow involved with Tibetan support. No doubt this comes down to ‘the diaries’ , but thank God I walked when I did. I don’t think I’m headed back. Anyone who knows anything about the current climate knows they could make my life hell, as they have done for countless others. One friend thrown in prison for 10 days without his contacts (rendering him legally blind…in a cell with 10 others) and the police did not notify the consulate for 5 days (it’s supposed to be 2). Another friend of a friend had her passport confiscated (highly illegal) without given a reason why. This is happening all over China, so when I say it’s becoming a police state I’m not exaggerating.

So why go back? Sure, my stuff is there, but thankfully, a friend of mine helped out and it’s now in a safe place. Clothes? Yeah, sucks, but only a few things were worn enough to justify a moment of silence. Books and DVD’s, sure, it’s also a pain, but I’d read/watched most of them. The important stuff is safe. I don’t think I’m headed back. I didn’t like it there. I have a few weeks left on my flat (one of the things I’ll miss the most, not the apartment itself, but the coffee talks with Scott, that’s what hurts) so I might just have a big ole free yardsale and let those who I’ll soon call ‘old friends’ inherit my ever-changing tastes. I’m still pulling in a tiny bit each month, might even be enough to get me over to India instead of rent (half, actually, Scott was paying the other half as ‘it was worth it not to have anyone else in there’) and a phone bill. I’d like that. Even Nepal. Maybe Sri Lanka. Could work out nice. I’d be eating rice and drinkin’ water, but hey, Mom promised me her enchiladas if I can get home soon. What was it Proust said, ‘We are healed of a suffering only by expressing it to the full’, right? Who wouldn’t trade some dirty cots and a dance with dysentery in exchange for sunrise on the Ganges and a sore neck from the Taj? Fuck it. I’m doin’ it. At least, I’ll try. Seems strange though, having just given my Facebook a peek that I might not see these people ever again. That’s weird. But goodbyes usually hold more cliches than a fraternity brunch, so I’d be okay with that. The people that matter I will either see again, or know I’ll miss them. Man, talk about ‘when one door closes’ (oops - see you at brunch) mine just got slammed shut. But it’s kind of the same feeling a girl slapping you after you just requested break-up sex is. In the overall sense of things, it’s over - but man, it would have been cool to end it slightly differently.

It hadn’t really sunk in until I wrote this whole thing…now it’s surreal. This could be it. Wow.

Wow, what a difference in life 24 hours makes if you let it.