I Got Nothin
Libya. The budget crisis. Opening Day. Chicago's new mayor. Mad Men season 5.
There should be a boatload of things to write about but, truth be told, I just can't get into it now. Who knows why. It's been too long since I posted something, though, so in the finest spirit of summer re-runs, I'm going to repost some short travel writings from my trips to Hong Kong and Shanghai.
Hope you enjoy them.
Hong Kong Pt. 1
Well, it didn't rain. It was, however, cloudy, 85, and about 99% humidity. Which brings me to an interesting point. Hong Kong is also the Universe of Various Odors. I'm not sure where to start, or which one to describe, and doubt that I will do them justice. There is one Odor which is almost everywhere, almost the Scent of Hong Kong. Floral, but too sweet. At first I thought the women were all wearing the same perfume, but later I saw incense pots outside some stores, so I figured that must be it. That one is not too bad. There are some, though, that evoke some type of seafood on it's way to a slow, putrefying death, a death which will eventually occur inside of an old sweatsock. It's companion Odor, a combination of sweet cinnamon glazed nuts and wafflecone, is always close by. They hang together in the breathless air, deadly Odor Zones choking any breathable (my gin and tonic just came. with a bendy straw. excuse me a moment) air that happens to squeeze through their damp cubic feet. Some blocks require concentrated mouth-breathing. . .
I went to the top of the Peak on a cable car--like San Francisco--which overlooks the whole city. I'm sure it would look better with sun in a blue sky, but it doesn't look as if that will happen soon. My big score of the day was at an art exhibit in which local artists designed t-shirts to benefit a notably artistic neighborhood. I found it, sat through the Mandarin (or more probably Cantonese) speeches, and then found they were selling them. These are never-see-them-anywhere-else-in-the-world shirts, and I got one. It just has a little graffitti drawing on it but it should be good.
A bendy straw. Too much tonic, not enough gin.
There should be a boatload of things to write about but, truth be told, I just can't get into it now. Who knows why. It's been too long since I posted something, though, so in the finest spirit of summer re-runs, I'm going to repost some short travel writings from my trips to Hong Kong and Shanghai.
Hope you enjoy them.
 | |
| From The Peak |
Well, it didn't rain. It was, however, cloudy, 85, and about 99% humidity. Which brings me to an interesting point. Hong Kong is also the Universe of Various Odors. I'm not sure where to start, or which one to describe, and doubt that I will do them justice. There is one Odor which is almost everywhere, almost the Scent of Hong Kong. Floral, but too sweet. At first I thought the women were all wearing the same perfume, but later I saw incense pots outside some stores, so I figured that must be it. That one is not too bad. There are some, though, that evoke some type of seafood on it's way to a slow, putrefying death, a death which will eventually occur inside of an old sweatsock. It's companion Odor, a combination of sweet cinnamon glazed nuts and wafflecone, is always close by. They hang together in the breathless air, deadly Odor Zones choking any breathable (my gin and tonic just came. with a bendy straw. excuse me a moment) air that happens to squeeze through their damp cubic feet. Some blocks require concentrated mouth-breathing. . .
I went to the top of the Peak on a cable car--like San Francisco--which overlooks the whole city. I'm sure it would look better with sun in a blue sky, but it doesn't look as if that will happen soon. My big score of the day was at an art exhibit in which local artists designed t-shirts to benefit a notably artistic neighborhood. I found it, sat through the Mandarin (or more probably Cantonese) speeches, and then found they were selling them. These are never-see-them-anywhere-else-in-the-world shirts, and I got one. It just has a little graffitti drawing on it but it should be good.
A bendy straw. Too much tonic, not enough gin.
posted by Unknown at 4:45 PM
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