Tunxi, China

Alright, new city for me to dip my judgmental and hideously calloused toes in. Can’t wait to see what you have to offer Tunxi! Aaaand it’s smog. China comes through once again with another textbook demonstration of the ol’ bait-and-switch. I love it! Seriously though China, fool me once - shame on you. Fool me twice – Stage IV lung cancer.

As the burden becomes too much to bare, Gaia wails out her banshee death rattle with excruciating downtrodden. To her staggering stupefaction, the Gods respond to her doleful call and the skies stream down a sympathetic, brawny storm. An estranged, enfeebled smile begins to unfamiliarly take form across her face. Even if it’s to be ephemeral, finally, just finally, the atmosphere will receive a long overdue superficial sterilization. Aaaaand it’s acid rain.

I would now like to make an editorial note. Above, I used "downtrodden" as an adverb with a grammatical hesitancy even Strunk and White could admire. I was fairly certain it could not "properly" be employed in form of this part of speech. Dictionary reference would confirm this, however, what came as great shock, is that google did not return any hits regarding general inquiry towards this usage. I found some threads involving discussion of its untraditional, yet agreeable acceptance, as a noun, although that really didn't surprise me, as I feel I have both used, or otherwise come across, this application in one form of discourse or another. Come to think of it, I could actually recite a line from a hip-hop song where downtrodden is used as a noun. Some of you might dismiss any weight derived from this particular precedent owing to its origin. Those of you would be myopic bigots, and not because I am appraising under the assumption you would believe the emcee is black, although that certainly is possible, but because you errantly assume hip-hop is not capable of sound and profound expression, which the artist's song I have culled the aforementioned example from most certainly does. For those inquiring minds, the emcee is Cappo, and he is stupendous. He also happens to be white, however, that does not absolve you of your prior, ostensible, bias. But back to the case at hand. As google came up short on my inquiry, although found a way to take a half hour from my life via random grammatical forum trawling, I was left with no real closure towards my grammatical quandary. As it has been made patently obvious, I decided to go ahead and employ downtrodden as an adverb after all, because, hell, I just love the syntactical result of its juxtaposition above, and, while I have a deep admiration for  the long-arm scope of language and its related grammar, I also happen to think some "rules" are bullshit and need to be broken. There is communication, and then there is not. And when it happens to take form of such an awesome coupling as "excruciating downtrodden," I am inclined to shatter that shit. Anyway, this whole affair has me wondering if I am the first person to use downtrodden as an adverb. I mean, that seems so far out of the realm of possibility, yet still, a man can dream, can't he? Is there anyone really out there that would like to deprive me of this fantasy of personally inaugurating downtrodden into a dangerous new dimension of adverbial part of speech? If so, speak now, or forever hold your peace. And here's where some asshole interjects with his grammarian two cents... You know what, before that invariably takes place, let me just install a little preemptive insulation in this precarious house of cards, and state for the record, I've never been all too expertly keen at identifying part of speech. There is a distinct possibility I didn't even use downtrodden as an adverb. Nonetheless, if anyone would like to take its hypothetical entry into the Oxford English Dictionary away from me they'll have to do it over my cold, dead, wormed-through body! By the way, I've borrowed "wormed-through" from, yet another, Cappo song - you bigoted assholes. Aside from the desire to inform you of your own discrimination once again, I just thought I'd shed some light on my construction processes.

Along with the, no doubt, enrapturing history contained within the infrastructure of the old city here in the Tunxi district of Huangshan, there lies another, equally celebrated, point of cultural interest - tea! That’s right, any tea connoisseur would be remiss in not passing through these storied streets and indulging in the finest leaves ever to be murdered for their dull and ho hum punch. Don’t be shy! Try as many varieties as you see fit, for the appreciation of the subtleties of the bland takes time and dedication to affect. And where better to hone the blade of your phoniness than Tunxi – the Mecca of tea! Plus, it’s raining outside, so let’s duck into this historic teahouse, or whatever, and meagerly feign moderate interest in the ceremonial tradition.

Here you can note the delicate process of removing each individual tealeaf with a specialized tong. Said to imbue the tea maker with resplendent grace, one can acquire his or her own for only 30 yuan. The considerable markup can be attributed to the fact that the metal used to forge such a timeless showpiece contains far less cancer than most similar Chinese alternatives. Honestly, it’s a fucking steal at 30 yuan. I’ll go on the record with that.

And several hours of fastidious preparation later, here you have it: tea. Apologies for not placing a Pavlovian response warning tag before the photo, but I’ve always believed a little salivation is good for the soul.

And what would a cordial tea gathering of inspirited culture vultures be without some traditional jams to complement it? Nothing. It wouldn’t be much of anything. Good thing Zhang Min was there to ease us all into the placid ether where only one could properly enjoy such finely prepared tea. This subtle accompaniment to our evening was the kind of cherry on top one unrefined might boorishly taking for granted. If the world only knew how many raps across the knuckles Zhang Min endured before she could even play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on this unforgiving contraption… A lifetime of physical and mental torment has surely earned her the right to show off every now and then by foregoing to look at the strings as she plucks away. Careful now Zhang Min, the line between showmanship and showboating can be perilously thin!

This tea sipping sure does usher in the tranquility like nothing else, but, if I’m to be perfectly honest, it’s also boring the pants off of me. Let’s see what’s going on outside. Holy fucking shit, the world’s collective pounds and pet shops just airdropped every cat and dog they had. Was that a bit of a stretch? That was definitely a bit of a stretch, right? Imma roll with it though. Anyway, as the heavens piss down without a modicum of restraint, we find Johnny-Cool-Amble straight up not givin’ a fuck. Your man is out for a Sunday stroll, casually glancing at storefronts like he hasn’t traversed this street for the past thirty years of his shabby existence. Never in my life could I not hate more. Keep up the good work Johnny-Cool-Amble.

Holy fucking shit, this rain is hilarious! Just look at it! You’re not looking at it guys. Come on! I’m telling you, this is the stuff fits of mirth is made from!

And here you have my pièce de résistance. It’s got everything: rain, awnings, street lamps, some sort of odd flags. As a matter of fact, can we have someone look into what those flags are all about? I saw them all over the place in China but I never paid too much consideration to their significance. Let’s get our top boys on this one.

You know, the human condition is a strange fruit. It’s hard to stave off the inherent lusts for the transcendent: money, respect, true love, accomplishment, and everything else you’ll likely never encounter. But then again, sometimes you see a woman like this and you find yourself at an abrupt existential intersection thinking, “Maybe I’d just like to rake some leaves with a straw broom.”

You remember that movie “Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon?" You know, that three-hour meandering epic where people fly around with buoyant abandon, dance on each others’ swords, and fall tragically in love with highly unpredictable genesis. I know, I know, those ingredients have been half-baked into any given number of shitty movies, but this was the one with that Chinese lady in it. You know, that one that was kind of famous for a while. Actually, maybe it was this film from which she first derived fame. Whatever the case may be, you should know what I’m talking about. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that a good part of that film was shot in this quaint little village here. It’s not easy to confirm as I’ve decided to conceal a bit of each frame with some tree parts in order to render that cryptic, “je ne sais quois” look.

Oh look! There goes an unobstructed shot. Yep, totally crouching tiger.

And here’s another shot of that same footbridge - this time with 50% more extreme! Limited edition folks; so flock to the stores and needlessly stock up before you can even be certain anyone in your family actually enjoys it. They’ll thank you later.

I’d be lying if, upon first entering its labyrinthine corridors, I wasn’t highly dejected by my inability to hop and afloat effortlessly between building to building. It took several failed attempts at “gettin' the pistons firin’” before my embarrassing tumbles ceased to be funny and became an issue of genuine concern to those around me. A big thanks goes out to the kind tourist that explained to me, with soothing kid-glove solicitude, that, despite any level of resolved effort, I would not be able to fly. Crestfallen, I continued onward anyway.

The pensive artist finds herself deeply ensconced in aesthetic trance as she listens to music from any particular variety of inexhaustible ipod knock-offs. Interestingly enough, genuine Microsoft Zunes were available for a few yuan less, yet, she opted accordingly. One might assume she was lost in a world of classical Chinese instrumentation, however, she told me it was actually just some shitty R&B mix tape her friend threw together with little regard to both flow and pacing, yet, nonetheless has been persistently pestering for some feedback over, ever since consignment two weeks ago.

Okay, the shirts on the right look like shitty silk-screened reminders of your inability to fly, however, what’s going on with the garments to the left? Is someone drying out his laundry here? Given this is China; I would afford this a 100% possibility of incidence.

Gosh, this scenery sure is sublime. I mean, this ovular lake surrounded by these ancient bastions of trademark Chinese architecture won’t soon be forgotten – even by my fugitive memory. I just wish I had a little more flare to add to my subject matter… I don’t know, maybe, like, an egret, or even a common crane would be nice… just something with some stalk-like legs is all I’m saying. Oh look some ducks… not quite what I’m looking for, but I suppose I can flex down on one knee for a shot before I find them strung upside down in a window nearby.

Shortly after taking the above photo, this woman assailed me with a fierce vigor only an elderly Chinese woman washing porcelain in a touristic lake could muster. Seriously though, what’s going on here elderly Chinese lady? Do you really need to wash your wares here? And why the need to lash out at me? I’ll tell you why. As it was explained to me, turns out many old school Chinese don’t like their picture taken as they feel it captures their soul - or some such tripe. Listen, I can sympathize with anyone who gets upset with her photo being taken without consent – although technically you are in public and thus at the mercy of its domain – but at least have a legitimate reason to get upset. Come on, this isn’t the Middle Ages lady; you should have no reason to believe any little device is capable of capturing your soul. Nonetheless, I’d just like to take this moment to apologize to you for my action. I would also like you to know that you hurt my feelings, and in light of this, I will be selling your soul to the highest bidder.

Hey, I wonder what’s inside of there. Can’t wait to find out! But first, what’s with the umbrella, lady? You really worried any UV rays are gonna penetrate the thick toxic soup above you? Oh wait, I get it. That precious pink parasol is a fashion statement. It totally matches your blouse! Very subtle and verrrry chic!

Well, appears to just be some ancient scrolls inside. A little unfulfilling if I’m to be honest.

Better perform an immaculately composed jump kick so the rest of the masses aren’t as disillusioned with their entrance as I was. If you happened to see this in live action, and weren’t amongst those I was traveling with, and are now viewing this on my blog, please do drop me a line and make my year. That would be the kind of small world coincidence capable of bringing a big ol’ Cheshire grin to one’s bitter, calcified, countenance before he continues about existence lost and bewildered.

More umbrellas, more fashion statements! Move over Paris, New York, and Tokyo, there’s a new debutante in town and her name is “The People’s Republic of China." Doesn’t quite have that panache of a ring to it, but still, those umbrellas!

Oh hi guys! Didn’t see you there. I was just, you know, ornately embroidering the length of this wall here. I just thought it would be nice for y’all to have something fun to look at as you vacantly schlepp through these chambers - that's all!

I stared at this photo for a while, only to be met with a remarkable absence of prosaic gumption. Sometimes a plethora of plausible interpretation paradoxically renders one at a loss for words. As I continued to vacuously stare, I noticed the figure to the top-right has lost his head to the epochs. And that made me kind of sad. Thanks China.

Goddamn, I am feelin’ you light sources! Stay right there, and don’t you ever change - you stalwarts of photonic wavelengths you.

Hey, what you doing back there all by your lonesome, edifices? Did you really think you could hide from me? Behind a dwarfed, skin and bones lattice fence and sparse flora no less! Listen China, I’m just gonna lay it all out for you right now: I don’t have much of a life, but what I do have is a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for a country like you. There is no part of your expanse that I cannot detect. I will find you and I will document you with increasingly more disconcerting acumen.

See, I told ya! I found that door whilst putting forth less effort than a stoner working a costume jewelry kiosk in the ill-favored second-rate mall in town.

Now let’s see what you look like a bit closer. Very nice – I must admit! Shit, I would even eat my lunch up here. Oh yeah, I did. This is a fucking restaurant. Seriously, I love you China. Not in the, “I’m just saying this so my girlfriend, whom I will eventually dump in callous fashion, will continue to put out” kind of way, but more like the Disney, “we’ve gone through a lot together but this is still kind of superficial” way. You know what the best part of this photo is? I didn’t even have to use a telephoto lens to take it. You know why? Because I found you.

A couple of shots amidst the bamboo to really drive home the message that I am, indeed, in China. Some day, when I have grown old with venerable wisdom and salt and pepper hair that George Clooney would murder an orphan for, my vice-addled brain will no longer function with the alacrity it once did and I will find myself unable to place the preponderance of my photos. I will tragically leaf through my scrapbooks, tears streaking my face with clinical disregard and wanton tumult, until I come across these photos. Upon site of the bamboo, I’ll be like, “Oh, China.”

And here’s a shot without all the bamboo - because I love you. But not in the, “I’m just saying this so…” Oh wait…

Holy shit, those rooftops are just ripe for the unfettered, footloose vaulting abandon. I know that tourist shattered my reality with irrefutable tenets of physics earlier, but, my mother, my teachers, my mentors have always told me I could do anything if I put my mind to it. Why should flying cross the threshold of this sanguine mindset? I bet I could pull this off with the proper technique. Shit, remember the textbook execution on your jump kick earlier Josh? That tourist was lying to you. She was just jealous of the potential she gleaned from your auspicious warm-ups. You’re better than everyone else. You can do this! Okay, let me tighten these laces, and I’m off!