All entries for Thursday 24 November 2005
November 24, 2005
Back in the 90s, there was this big group of Metropolitan (if this word did exist then) Chinese people at their 20s touched by the Beat Generation literature, idolised Jack Kerouac and his hedonistic dream of On the Road. They talked about moving their arses in internet chat rooms with the rise of this technology monster. Internet friends got met up in different cities in a very similar fashion that the Red Guards conferencing up and down within the map of China for the sake of revolution. They are just different ideologies. Red Guards and hippies, young and travelling, all for good reasons they took beliefs in.
The millennium passed, for more than half a decade now. The 90s' gone, consumerism left and refined. Beautiful masquerade. The youngsters becomes mid-youths, their arses rooted in office benches – more and more difficult to get them moved. Life is more about how to enjoy life with things they can buy for themselves. Not until the water polluted, the rumours of earthquake outbroke, will the social elites arsed to move. Their dream of en route eliminated. Sense of community and routines retained where they are from or where they earlier moved to.
But forget about these old mid-youths. We 80s babies are the dominate power today. We keep the consuming and develop the depoliticisation. Hedonism or anarchy are ridiculous extremists. We take belief in sites of big brands, super girls, western materials, fame, and experiences that money can afford.
My parents spent their lives establishing their careers. Coming to the age of 50, they are still quite lost about what they spent half of their lifetime on. There is maybe one thing that they are sure, or the traditional teachings make them to be sure of, that is to raise the only kid, spend as much money as they can afford on her(that is, me). That's maybe why I am lucky enough to be here - a country without acid rains(although people complain about rains), typhoons(in the winter there is a stream of strong wind that sneaks in from the bedroom window and make the sound as if some ghosts are entering the room), floods(yeh, in 2002 there was a minor flood in Europe with a tiny death toll, and that was rare), earthquakes(I wonder why there is such a word in English vocabulary), dictatorships(sure, people talk about democracy all the time here), human right abuses(because only Asian and Latin American, or maybe Mid-eastern police would torture the prisoners), poverty(homeless in London street? They can complain to the police about the weather), infant soups(!), hassles in travelling around(stop moaning about British Railway, at least you have such a small territory, you don't experience 16 hours DOMESTIC train journey as a normal duration).
So I'm in a pink country, and I'm in pink top-down. New pink coat, new pink phone, even my underwear unifies with them in pink.
A pink babe from the pink class of the pink generation travels on train, British Railway, virgin trains. Every time on board is a virgin experience. Since I came to inhabit in London, my times of riding the virgins(this is a Lulu phrase) increased. Well, when I was in Warwick, most of my virgin journeys involved London anyway. London and virgins, jack the ripper and tourists. Give it a random thought, we come to realize how rich the cultural heritage is in this country.
The only two times I can think about trains without London is 1. Notthingham, 2. Norwich. But none of them involved the virgin. Both quite winding. 1. 'Get a train to Leamington Spa, , get off and change to a train that terminates in Edinborough, look out for me when it stops at Leicester, and you don't have to worry about it afterwards. I will take you safely to Nottingham'. 2. 'Yes, it's fifty pound return to Norwich.' 'But it's so close.' 'It takes you 5 hours to get there from Coventry, love.' 'Remember, on your way out change the train in Nuneaton, and on your way back change the train in Ely.' But Norwich was so cool, my first time sleeping the the sleeping bag. Like a silkworm, make a warm bed to bind myself, to break it, get out and I die. Yeh, I changed the train in Ely, Nuneaton has nothing compare to Ely. Ely station is cosy and neat. Nuneaton situates close to Coventry. I have a lot of experiences, travelling alone, on train, 16 hours, 5 hours, or 2 hours.
Don't tell me you love the train. The flicking images outside the window only make me sleepy, reading, writing, and then sleeping. Travel on the train is boring. Boredom forced me to think about sad facts about life. Sad facts pushes me towards escapism. Escapismness seduces me to the world of perverted delusions. Perverted delusions cause violence. Violence gains me power. Power produces sad facts. Sad facts are boring.