Inverted racial experience part 2

I'm nothin special. But I know that when I get back it's me that everyone will pump for stories down the pub, my stories that will light up the night and I'll be the life and soul of the party.

By the time I come back, I doubt I will have done much vastly of note, hell certainly nothin as funny as the Cow story or as exciting as the one about the Guy With the 2 Snakes because this is America and, despite how wacky and outlandish middle class England thinks this place is, it's got nothin on me. I've seen more eccentric shit in my mum's kitchen than you'll ever see here including the small bananas, which I used to show everyone who came round.

America's eccentricity doesn't even come close

Everyone down the boozer will nevertheless still want to listen to me, other peoples stories will have to wait in line and the whole night I will have you wrapped around my finger. And d'you wanna know why?

It's got nothing to do with the windows of opportunity I open for myself or the places I go or the life that I lead, because you could all easily recreate the same thing and the baton would still be mine to run with. It's down to only one's the way I tell 'em.

Take this for example. I'm sittin in Pho 79 writin my diary notes in one of those pads like wot I wrote your book in Suze/Vix, sittin opposite a small gang of beautiful Vietnamese girls drinking milkshakes and looking at me. I'm apparently very handsome in Vietnamese eyes but I won't let that go to my head. Much.

The place is loud and full of wonderfully colourful characters wherever I look. There's a white guy in here too, huddled quietly in the corner, but using chopsticks so he's obviously a Vietfan, a term I have only just now made up to describe people like Suzie, who go to Vietnam and never really leave. The ones who use forks are just day-trippers.

The chopsticks are pretty damn funny while I'm on the subject - The instructions on the outside of the packet are classic and I will print them here in all their full unedited glory for your amusement:

  1. Tuck under thumb and hold firmly
  2. Add second chopstick hold it as you hold a pencil
  3. hold first chopstick in original position move the second one up and down now you can pick up any thing

I'm getting used to seeing white people again. Perhaps it is part of my slow rehabilitation into society and an extension of the re-education program (bad political gag) I guess.

Of course, I guess you could say that I am now batting for the other side as well now (as opposed to batting for no sides as Slit once said. Cracker! I'll show you one day son!) in that, where you guys think that us chinks all look the same, I'm actually starting to see the complete opposite. No seriously, how the hell do you guys know which one is related to you? How do you pick out criminals in an identity parade? Does your girlfriend know you're shaggin her sister!?! Do you!!!!?!!!! Hey at least it's one happy sister.

As I walked home through the blazing Californian heat, I saw my first cockroach ever and I thought it was a little ironic given my travel history that the first cockroach should be in America, when I've lived in Ghana, India, Nepal and Thamesmead. It unnaturally hot outside for November and the bugger had croaked and was laying on it's back. Which was probably for the best.

D'you see what I mean now - I can even make a trip down the shops sound exciting. And so can you, if you just let yourself go. We live in a free society where freedom of expression is mostly unmetered, but it's not society that places constraints on our free expression but ourselves. The concept of rebelling against our society as such to gain freedom of expression is thus aiming at the wrong target, as we in the developed world are already free to do what we please. Who's gonna stop you? Shouting and waving placards at people who choose to be dull with their freedom does nothing to further our own personal liberation (although I must admit that I do enjoy waving my butt in their faces just for fun and of course they should be made aware of the damage that they are actively or passively inflicting on the poor and the environment by their actions) although I too feel the need to save the yawncorp employees from their self-imposed life of death. However, it is the route they have chosen and we should live and let live, because after all if they have nothing interesting to say then filing them away with all the rest to be forgotten in an office on the 7th floor of yawncorp HQ will be no big loss, and we can carry on living the life of the free while they suffer for their lack of self-expressive talent.

The pursuit of creative freedom should not be confused with the need to want to have your voice heard. True artistic freedom begins from within by liberating the self and the need for someone else’s approval, in fact every other need should be secondary to desire to cultivate your own art. If you enjoy singing, sing. But this does not mean be selfish. The Oak tree in the forest grows regardless of the other trees around him concentrating on his own self-development, but is selfless at the same time, playing host to the animals and the forest whilst growing magnificent. And when he dies he gives everything back to forest, to the earth from which he came, holding onto nothing. That is why he embodies the Tao.

Having your voice heard is a different subject altogether and results not from self-imposed marginalisation from society but from a synergetic interaction in which you find your niche, the place where people speak your language. Withdrawal from society because no-one is listening is like cutting off your dick to spite your girlfriend.

Many people spend their time and money in search of further wealth and riches and I have next to nothing. But I've got something far more valuable - a sense of humour. So ask yourself, down the pub, who would you rather spend your time on and it becomes clear who really holds the riches.

Andy - The poor boy who will have you in stitches

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