Hitch 22

There was a time, oh, say pre-9/11, pre-youtube, when being a Christopher Hitchens fan was akin to being part of a noble minority, like a member of the House of Lords or a Mensa member. No more. He's as (un-)popular and (in-)famous as ever these days, and the publication of his memoirs was met with much excitement and praise.

It's always been one of my more persistent personality flaws that I am incapable of enjoying something or, in this case, someone, as much as I normally would if he/she/it is popular in the mainstream. I'm sure stuffwhitepeoplelike.com has covered this at some point, and it's absolutely true. I want to feel hip. I want to know what's cool before others do. I want to appreciate it on a deeper level than others (see: The Onion's article on appreciating the Muppets), and I want to do so before anyone else gets wind of it, but what's most important is that I want to be appreciated for appreciating it. I want my foresight and good taste (do we have a word that combines the two? I'm sure the Germans do) to be admired/envied.

So even though it may seem I'm jumping on the bandwagon, let me assure you, dear reader, I was there from the start, perched on the back enjoying every bump and dip in the road from the get go.

Hitch 22 is a fantastic read. If you have an open mind, if you enjoy good writing, if you're interested in art, literature, politics, and culture, and let's add to that travel as well, if you enjoy a good debate and can consider arguments from both sides, and if you are at your core an optimist about this world and its civilization(s) (after reading this one cannot doubt Hitchens is an optimist) then this is the book for you. If not, well, then, fuck off.

Messages From God

It's test week, which is wonderful because I basically go in for a couple of hours, help proctor once or twice, and am out the door by 11. Today was no different.

What was different about today was that god spoke to me. I know, he speaks all the time, in the whisper of the winds, the laughter of a child, blah blah blah. But this was more of a burning bush kind of experience.

Well, if by "bush" I mean "Korean lady manicurist" and if by "burning" I mean "painting someone's fingernails" then that statement holds water.

So, no, god didn't really speak to me. One imagines it would be difficult for him to speak, as things/objects/deities which speak usually also exist. That is a necessary a priori condition. Forgive me, I've been reading Will Durant's proto-"Philosophy for Dummies" which is available at every Korean bookstore with an English section up and down this entire peninsula, and to which I finally gave in not long ago and decided to pick up. Besides, I'm sure I misused my Latin there, but you get the picture.

Anyway, back to the story. First, let me just say that this sort of thing happens to me all the time, and it never ceases to freak me the fuck out. Basically what I'm talking about is when two completely unconnected events in your life suddenly match up at the same instant. If there's a word for it I don't know, but it'd lie somewhere between deja vu and kismet, I'd say.

I was in the Shinsegae Department Store downtown, post-lunch, with the aim of browsing through some ridiculously overpriced polo shirts. I was on the escalator heading up to the 6th floor. I had my iPod on, and I was listening to an Adam Corolla podcast. All was well.

I came off of one escalator and turned the corner to the next. My eyes fell on a little niche between the escalators where a Korean manicurist was chatting up her customer whilst adorning her nails with some sort of garish paste. Simultaneous to this, and I do mean simultaneous, dear reader, what does Adam say? "And another thing, howabout Asian nail ladies, and their blah blah blah..."

I can hear you now. "That's it?" But this sort of shit happens to me all the time. I'll be listening to David Bowie sing and he says "and I looked at my watch and it said 9:25 and I think oh god I'm still alive," and I look at my own, and sure enough, the man in white got it right. I'll be reading up on something one evening, and the next day at school one of my co-teachers will ask me about that exact arcane subject. These bizarre coincidences seem to happen to me all the time.

Now, yes I've read White Noise (twice actually) and I realize it's much more likely that I've been infected by some poisonous gas, that I have a brain tumor, or that I'm just plain crazy than it is that god's speaking to me, or I'm caught in some sort of bizarre Star Trek-like phenomenon. And when I say, "this happens all the time," I mean in actuality that it happens a few times a year. But to say it's memorable would be an understatement.

But it does make you wonder...