so our party ended around 4 am and there is some dude on our couch, but I just can’t tear myself away from my computer to sleep.
while browsing antipixel, I came across this description of Kundera, well, actually of using kundera as a dating tactic:
deliciously rutherfordesque. this summer in Beijing I met G, a former UN speechwriter, who in between his poring over writing a magazine piece and my dissection of a chinese music mag, heartily recommended that I read kundera (which I still have not had a chance to do). has not met a woman who did not love this one particular book, he says, which he could not reconcile, avowing kundera’s misogynist writing. I wonder if this could have been The Unbearable Lightness of Being? Anyone know?
beijing seems so far away, in time and in life, I could almost imagine it was just the stuff of dreams… and yet it was so soul-altering that it could not be. every day as it slowly seeps away and “real life” (wtf does that mean anyway) takes over, I wonder if it’s something that is lost to me forever, a flighty intermezzo irretrievable because of some special alignment of time and circumstance…
at least one thing is reassuring: I’ve spoken to others who also have a chinese background yet have spent most of their lives in canada — and their experiences in asia have brought similar reactions. it’s a whole and utterly different world that feels scary and comfortable and exciting all at once, and it’s exceedingly difficult to leave and readjust to life back in north america. something that possibly you just never get over completely.
worded by smurfmatic, and I feel the same way.