So I read the first half of Fight Club earlier today. I’ll probably read the rest of it before I go to sleep tonight. It’s decent, so far. Nothing to scream about, as many people have had me to believe it is, but certainly nothing to scoff at, either. It strikes me, at this point, as one of those clever novels that sets some sort of weird precedent in mainstream literature and that when most people read it, they really feel like they’re reading something edgy.
My mouth still hurts, though a little less than yesterday. The swelling is almost entirely gone. About the only externally-visible sign right now is the nice big yellow bruise that goes along the bottom of my jaw-line, I suppose from all the blood draining after the operation. Doesn’t look too pleasant.
What will you resolve for the new year? It seems like I’ve been asking everybody I know, and probably multiple times. I’ll say it again. Get better at Japanese and get out of the US.
In a wonderful email I got from a friend tonight, it was suggested that wandering may well be the right path for me, if you can call it a path. I’m inclined to believe her. It seems to be a tried and true, if still somewhat uncommon way to go about finding yourself. I’m already the closest thing my family (extended family included) has to a black sheep, and my inadvertent nonconformity and randomness is a hallmark of mine, so I figure it can’t really hurt anything, either. And my new-found love of and identification with the beat generation helps, too, I’m sure.
Wandering is exactly why I need to get out. Get out of the US. Get out of a Western society. Get out of any place where English is the dominant language. I need to get out of my normal circles (though at the moment I have no circles, so that much shouldn’t be too hard). Do some things that aren’t the most logical or sensible things to do. Take some risks. Just get the fuck away from wherever the hell it is I happen to be right now.
And I want to go at it a very open, freeform sort of way. That isn’t to say without any preparation at all, but rather flying at least somewhat by the seat of my pants with minimal baggage. Anywhere the wind blows, so to speak in Queen references. Give my my camera, my notebook, a laptop (ok, so I’m not willing to sacrifice email), enough clothes to get by, and send me out into the world. Passport, too. You get the idea.
It’s worth a shot. It has to be.
Go ‘cross the water
Counter wind and opinion
And find yourself there
