Shanghai, China

Oh. My. God. I’m in China! This is so fucking cool... A country that can arguably claim title to the most storied, complicated, and intriguing history to date; a culture so elaborately cultivated and ripened through the epochs, the intricate subtleties of its fruit beseech relentless sampling; lush landscapes wholly unrivaled, diametrically varied by sublime one-of-a-kind idiosyncrasies... So many historic sites I need to see, exotic delicacies to sample, cities to unlock, adventures to embark on, inquiries to explore and new ones to formulate... Gosh, let’s get cracking already and head into Shanghai via this super-sweet high-speed train! Aaaaaand I have Stage IV lung cancer. Thanks China.

Alright! Scarcely more than a few steps into China and western culture’s hegemonic effect has already made itself apparent. It’s a good thing too! I could really use some Hershey’s Chocolate. Everything tastes so much better when you know it’s the byproduct of labor rights abuse. Bearing in mind this axiomatic peculiarity, I think I’ll be able to derive an extra degree of satisfaction and pleasure from just about every manufactured good I purchase here! China, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Put it there pal. Aaaaaand I have Stage IV lung cancer.

Wanna know a little secret about Shanghai? They intentionally saturate the urban milieu with neon and flash under lofty assumption that one might actually become so thoroughly distracted he fails to plainly ascertain the city is utterly bereft of any actual soul or character.

Not gonna lie though, sometimes the lights sorta do the trick for me.

Alright, I’ve got the skyline perfectly framed up. Shame I don’t have a tripod to mitigate some of the blur and grain issues plaguing nighttime shooting. Well, it’s not like I’m a professional photographer or anything anyway, so imma just go ahead and take this snap. Aaaaaand a neon-lined boat wants to join the party. You see! Remember that garish hallmark kids? Gettin’ real tired of your shit Shanghai.

Obelisk in the front, haphazardly constructed skyline hastily developed to unimaginative standards in the back. You can’t explain that.

Good morning Shanghai. I got up extra early today so that I might feel the sun’s nurturing caress across my jet-lagged body. NOPE! Listen, I’m just getting started with this blog dedicated to my travels in China and there’s really no way for me to prognosticate just how long I’ll be milking the whole smog and pollution thing. I can promise you this though, if this line of lampooning is to continue, I will place considerable effort into the divergent framing of each redundant comment as it comes to be. Unless of course I get writer’s block, in which case, I’m probably gonna toss some long-asphyxiated fish back into the water.

Hey you! You with the… rolled up tatami mat...? Anyhow - I like you. All you old ladies doing synchronized fan calisthenics with vibrant and colorful panache aren’t half-bad either. You know what? You get a pass, you get a pass, everyone gets a pass!

Left column, all the way in the back - this woman is doing the "free-spirited Leonardo DiCaprio strut.” And you thought you would escape my keen scrutiny! Think again naïve Chinese lady.

This photo, more or less, encapsulates the spirit of China. You’ll find it a celebrated cultural indulgence for individuals to take their shirts off as indiscriminately as they please – regardless of surroundings or social setting. This is the kind of laissez-faire attitude towards public conduct I can really get behind. In the background, you’ll notice a couple of individuals enjoying a serene nap across the park’s accommodating fixtures. One might make the logical assumption that these gentlemen are, in fact, homeless. This person would be incorrect.

Gee, what sort of invigorating exercise should I start this majestic day with? Perhaps some lunges or maybe even some jumping jacks. Regardless of my decision, one thing is indisputably certain: these wrist warmers are really going to make all the difference.

I am going to take your baby and place it inside my tricked out dumpster on a hand truck and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Nothing.

Everyone was feeling the YMCA except for chairman buzzkill over there on the left. Go back to China chairman buzzkill. Oh, you’re already in China? Well then, go to America or something. And don’t go stealing all our jobs!

Caught in a rare moment of clarity, the bicyclist asks himself, “Seriously, am I living in a Steven King novel or something?”

Again, not even homeless.

Should I go with a “hadouken” or “kamehameha” reference? Man, it’s just too difficult to choose. The degree to which an understanding and appreciation of either relies on esoteric underpinning is arguably tantamount. Boy, this is such a vital decision for the infrastructure of the artistic direction to follow - I don’t know how I’ll make it. Oh wait, turns out I already referenced both. Keep up the good work Josh.

A stray walks off into a direction invariably culminating with his incorporation into some fortunate bloke’s dinner.

First thing’s first: bride - you look absolutely stunning. I mean, you may have already earned yourself an ascendant position in my ever-expanding spank bank... but, can we stop and talk about Joe fucking Cool groom over here for a sec.? That carefree, arched repose coupled with the casual elbow perched atop the stone windowsill really screams, “And what?” to the world.

So I’m gonna cross my legs in this direction. You cross your legs in the opposite direction. It will be fun - just go for it!

Here we’ve caught this gentleman mid-cogitation. Will he resolve the fundamental inconsistencies between quantum mechanics and big bang theory? Probably not, but you can’t blame a man for trying.

The man on the left looks back in double-take after noticing the little girl posing for a photo owns the very same, “Little Mermaid III – Ariel’s Beginning” messenger bag. Initially annoyed by this blow to his individuality, he can't help but wear the bitter acrimony on his sleeve for little Wang Jing to easily perceive. Eventually, he grows to overcome his ire and even delivers a begrudging, yet acceptably-conciliatory, apology to the child.

Hey, look, a museum! Normally I would balk at an opportunity to actively culture myself, but China has historically carved such a deserving name for itself in the “all-types-of-weird-shit” department. I honestly can’t wait to go inside. Off we go. Weeeeee!

Listen, if there’s one thing I hate being, it’s an ugly American. But is it too much to ask for an English translation of the placard to the left? Throw me a bone here guys!

Man, these are all so cool! I wonder if I’m allowed to touch them. I would just love to bring one home with me. They would look totally boss in my kitchen nook. Heh, just kidding, I know the rules of the museum, but I’ll be damned if I don’t live to see a day when they’re amended for the people!

Try as you might, you really can’t fuck with that stairwell design. Believe me, I tried; so hard, in fact, the extended Wu Tang Clan family, including a reanimated, crack-high ODB, emerged from the Qin dynasty section only to silently stand before me with piercing glares, as if to say, “M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN.”

Oh, sorry babies, didn’t see you there! The hypnotizing spectacle of my strapping bicep momentarily hindered my ability to distinguish squirming flesh beneath my feet.

And here we have some indiscriminately thrown together wood and an oversized plate... well worth the price of admission.

Well that’s all for today from the museum kids, but here’s a bonus shot of the back's exterior. The mirrored façade is there to kindly remind you that the smog and despair surrounds you in every direction at all times.

Feelin’ those angles bruh bruh.

Here we have a to scale, miniature replica of Shanghai. Interestingly enough, you could actually find more soul within the confines of this facsimile than you can outdoors. You really have to admire the dedication to this project. One would be hard-pressed to declare it anything less than pretty darn cool.

By the way… I LIGHT UP BITCHES! Holy shit, this revelation nearly had me sleeping on a park bench with my shirt off.

Aaaand now we’re at some sort of elaborate house garden thingy. One can’t help but appreciate the manifold Chinese proclivities to integrate man and nature in resplendent harmony.  This sort of feng shui infusion throughout all and sundry remains truly admirable. That is, of course, until one looks up at the sky. Seriously guys, I’ve gotta be candid here - shit is legitimately polluted out here. If we put our heads together, I think we can find some ways to clean up the act. We should probably start with an outline for our action plan. Somebody hand me an inkwell and plume of just length. Okay, good. Roman Numeral One: killing the ozone and ways we can mitigate this.

Yeaaaah, I don’t see placards of any sort here or anything, so I’m just gonna go ahead and touch all of these.

Man, this shit has “China” written all over it. In fact, if you took a look at this shot in isolation, not from a series in my blog about China, and you didn’t instantly envision China in your head, I would… Well, I guess I would actually sympathize with you as this could theoretically pass for an artifact in many regions of Asia. Still though, I maintain this shit is more Chinese than Jackie Chan. Wait, is he actually Chinese? I know he was born in Hong Kong, but would that make him Chinese? I guess so; Hong Kong was just a British colony after all. So why do I feel like people from Hong Kong hate people from Mainland China? Oh yeah, because every part of Asia hates every other part of Asia. Forgot about that.

Sheesh. Ease up bruv. You need a klonopin or something? Listen, I’ll give you the first one for free, but if the stress-relieving serenity it generates for you by any chance makes you want to amass a, “just-in-case” cache, I’ll understand and always be there for you. It’s just gonna cost you.

And here we are at the good ol' silk factory – where Chinese dreams come to stereotypical life. Take a look at all the rusted, perilous shit we’ve got here and learn a thing or two about textile production while you’re at it. Just make sure to exit through our silk clothing warehouse on the way out. Trust me, you need a silk robe with a couple of intertwined murderous dragons emblazoned across the back – you pussy.

Listen, I’m not trying to be culturally boorish or anything, but even without seeing the other two faces, I’m pretty sure we can all agree that the same woman has been cloned at least three times. It makes sense when you think about it. How else would they find enough people to perform such tasks of repetitive tedium? It’s not like they’ve got 7 billion people in need of a profession just sitting around shirtless in public.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Oh my god... Oh phew! I thought that was a spider on my shoelace the whole time. Appears to be nothing but a piece of carcinogenic tumor someone gingerly coughed up earlier.

And this year’s spirit award goes to… drumroll please… Cindy Carrington of P.S. 265’s Fighting Lynx’s? Really? Man, that Chinese bitch with all the hula-hoops got robbed. You know what, I’m done with this contest. The judging is on its way to becoming arguably more corrupt than the World Boxing Association. Seriously, have you seen some of the fishy scoring unscrupulously doled out over the course of, say, the past two decades or so? I'm pretty sure you have to pass a test of certain duplicitous character ranking before you can even interview for a scoring judge position.

Watch as we assemble ourselves into increasingly more flexible configurations. Erotically fantasize about all the tacit implications this has for the bedroom. Rise to crescendo as you imagine us dusting those hard to reach places, like behind the headboard, and spackling even the most remote corners.

Woah now. Back the truck up China. Who invited a male to perform at this event? That’s just in poor taste. Although… I can’t hate on a brother’s wardrobe choice. Is that denim or chino? I don’t know, but I like it. And that loosened tie! or is it an ascot? Well whatever it is, it’s really setting off that righteous “S” pattern on his shirt. You know what? I’ll allow it. Carry on China.

Don’t be fooled, this was no unintentional fall, quite the opposite; this is all just part of the wily antics Dingxiang brings to the table.

So I just paid closer scrutiny to the background. It would appear as if a suspension bridge projection was used in order to give the illusion that Dingxiang is currently performing upon one of the cables. I think it’s pretty obvious that’s not the case China. Try not to patronize me in the future.

I can’t exactly remember what he was balancing on here, but if I had to make an educated guess, I’d say a laser. Those of you who doubt this are not giving the Chinese enough credit.

“Fuck you rope, I do what I want!” – The actual epitaph Dingxiang has requested for his gravestone. Lamentably, by the time he dies, there will literally be no more physical space for new graves in China. Tough break Dingxiang.

Holy fucking shit! I just preemptively prematurely ejaculated for the next ten years. Seriously China – top marks all around.

When I’m not blowing coke off of this glass, I like to use it as a platform for interlacing wine glass configurations I can then balance on my nose. But if I’m to be honest with you, it’s more of the former than the latter.

Look ma, no hands! Your mom’s not in the audience Xui Li. She abandoned you as a child via river raft when you brought dishonor to the family by coming out with one too many X chromosomes. Had serendipity not found you to a drifting band of circus entertainers, well, you wouldn’t be magnanimously instilling joy in the hearts of the masses with your esoteric and thrilling skill-set. Some times the universe just really comes through in the clutch.

Bet you didn’t see that clarinet coming! I happened to do so, but not because I’m some sort of soothsayer or anything; I just happen to be highly read up on Chinese culture and as a result can pretty much always anticipate, with relatively marginal inaccuracy, whenever a clarinet is going to be brandished. It can lead to me being a bit of a buzzkill at parties, but it’s not like I’m trying to steal anyone’s thunder - I just can’t help myself.

Fuck this shit. I’m gonna rock some high heels and beast out on some stilts, then I’m out this bitch. It’s been real China. Xui Li is officially ghost. Noooooo… Xui Li, don’t go! We love you!

This woman crafted her act around the chaotic scattering of playing cards. I guess by comparison to the prior feats you might find yourself hastily ascribing short shrift to this little performance. Well I’m here to tell you that it rocked. Fuck the haters. Playing card scattering is awesome, and so are you - Chinese magician lady in the ill blue tuxedo and Peter Pan cap getup.

Something doesn’t feel right about this configuration. I feel like I should be… I don’t know, like, a little more horizontal or something. I wonder if I could make that happen.

I totally made that happen.

Hey asshole, I’m not a fucking pummel horse. What part of, “Stop balancing on my head” did you not understand?

I am ever-so-slightly aroused. Ever-so-slightly…

Although a fully-grown adult, Mei has yet to wrap her head around the law of object permanence. She momentarily forgot about the existence of the audience until the obscuring hands were removed from her sightline. The shocking acknowledgment of the audience’s mysterious return may be gleaned from her blank expression.

Alternative commentary: Peek-a-boo bitches!

My god… The things I would do with you… Late night walks on the beach, romantic candlelit dinners, non-competitive games of scrabble. I better stop before I get myself too worked up.

Fuck it, why not?

Don’t mind me folks! Just daintily stacking Ming Dynasty bowls on me head via a light kick from me foot while I use me other leg to balance on a precarious, dubiously engineered, series of platforms resting on a shifty-eyed looking cylinder. All in an honest day’s work!

It goes without saying, but you know just prior to this photo being taken, a serious, jazz hand flash-across-the-face, finale ensued. While this marked the end of the show, and the curtains had all but dropped, the crowd remained motionless and silent. I found myself clapping alone in an awkward sort of delusion. Turns out the Chinese aren’t in the custom of clapping or cheering after being thoroughly entertained. Instead, they mostly spit ferociously hocked up loogies upon the floor before exiting and culminating with a cigarette or ten outside.

China – ensuring maddening ISO issues for your shitty stock lens since the Qing Dynasty. I deliberated with needless consideration as to include these photos or not. A little noisy blur doesn’t necessarily cardinally make or break my choice for exhibition or not, as I’m sure even the most hyperopic followers of my blog have patently observed by now, but I found it hard to let it slide here. Good thing I’m not a professional photographer or anything, or this might be root for vocational embarrassment. Anyway, I ultimately decided to showcase these photos so that one might take note of the trademark pagoda towering and its successful contemporary integration. Neat stuff! Not to be found in either of these photos, but in another - too noisy for display - is a Starbucks Coffee. There goes that western hegemonic effect again – you gotta love it! Sorry McDonald’s, was that too close to “I’m lovin’ it”? Please don’t sue me. Just to be safe, I'll go on public record with eulogizing anecdote to incentivize legal inaction. Story time kids. So, as anyone affording even an iota of sentience towards my commentary thus far could gather, a hallmark of Chinese social decorum would be its lack thereof and otherwise utter deregulation; that is to say - it's pretty much the wild wild east out here. For instance, you know how in, say, pretty much every country, groups of passengers are orderly ushered into a plane at logical, timed, intervals via their boarding class? Yeah, well in China - no boarding class; as soon as one announces the plane has taxied and is open for business, passengers will penetrate towards the docking corridor from all angles with remarkable ethical disregard for safety or social conscience. I mean, businessmen amid their sixth chain-smoked Marlboro in a dedicated cancer chamber (yes those exist in Chinese airports) on the other side of the terminal will find a way to become second in line once that rodeo gate has been opened. And you know what? I love it. Fuck the classist hauteur the rest of the world is fostering. Go on with your bad socialist self! Now, a sharp individual who recalls segue for that long-winded confounding discursion might be asking herself, "Does Josh smoke pot for a living? What the hell does this all have to do with McDonald's?" Well, well, you astute bitch; if you must know, I do, in fact, smoke pot for a living, AND I'll be happy to explain! McDonald's, franchising within China not all that long ago, some say, has been credited with "civilizing" them in regards to their queuing etiquette. As the inaugural erections of the insalubrious bastions of ubiquitous gratuitous American indulgence began to wrap their greasy, corporate fingers around China's overpopulated neck, the rapidly expanding obfuscating fog of atherosclerosis fever, blinding a levelheaded patience for the development of additional blemishing brick and mortar porters of pestilence, was simply too frenetic to be sustained - rendering the savage rampaging on the paltry scattering of franchises a harrowing inevitability. Well, when supply didn't initially meet demand in a land with 7 billion patrons ravenous for high blood pressure and western culture, I think you can imagine the, eye of a tornado hellbent on revenge over his cheating wife, chaos that ensued. That's right, the unmitigated compulsion to wrap one's nicotine-stained hands around a Bic Mac would inspire a neanderthal-like jockeying for position so intense it would make the heated final stretch for a potential Triple Crown at the Belmont Stakes look like a casual, halcyon equestrian exhibition in victorian England. Nonetheless, China eventually figured its shit out when, finally, it one day begrudgingly accepted, tooth and nail, the need to queue for their contagions. Thus, in a bizarre twist of circumstance, McDonald's has been said to have "civilized" the Chinese in this respect. Of course, there is the distinct possibility that I have fabricated the entirety of that balderdash, as, at the very least, the airports persist in being a, first jackal to the carcass, free-for-all. Now, if I do recall correctly, what launched this extraneous, yet unimpeachably scholarly aside, was an intention to absolve myself of potential trademark infringement litigation, however, now that the dust has settled from the craterous impact of that yarn, and I am no longer swept up in a possessed raconteur fervor, I fear, for reasons I can't quite place my finger on, I may have given life to an altogether new litigious kindling - collected from scattered twigs of libel, assembled into a highly incendiary conical shape a Navajo would give his blessing to, and just awaiting a minor spark to comfortably warm hands already snug and toasty within their deep pockets. Well, whatever - I'm probably just imagining things. And more importantly, I digress… Note the police officer to the left posting keen guard. One cannot say for sure what he is canvasing for, as in China, you could pretty much use a hand truck to casually roll a name-engraved IED into Tiananmen Square, whistling all the way, and no one would even bat an eyelash. Chances are he’s looking out for someone saying something mean about the immaculately altruistic socialist government. Those rabble-rousers!

Listen, I’m gonna need 100 sticky buns to go and I’m kind of in a rush. I’m late to a business meeting I was meant to cater and I really think upper management will be riveted with my proposal to simultaneously increase work hours and lower wages by shifting operations to a larger, more hazardous, asbestos-lined factory. Can I get half with lotus seed paste and the other with red bean? No, no, no! I said lotus, not sesame. Jesus fucking Christ! My Mandarin isn’t that bad, is it? Oh you guys speak your own Wu dialect here? You know, you’d think a country this big might wanna stick to one simple language we can all get behind - but noooooo…

Hey, what’s going on behind this intricate stone latticing? Oh, just smog and human rights abuse. Phew, I thought I was missing out on something.

Ahh, that singularly fulgent green one can only find in the favored, treated waters of its national parks. Someone has to keep its eye out for those koi fish, and by god China, if you aren’t doing a heck of a job of it then label me the villainous sonofabitch I am. Although feeding of the fish was strictly prohibited, I had a half-dozen incorrectly filled sweet buns I needed to jettison and, if I’m to be honest with you, those koi looked to be just slightly underfed. In fact, a mere MS Paint rendering of them would have had the collective enterprise of PETA shitting its pants. So, I proceeded the only way I know how - by doing the humanitarian thing and tossing all six buns to the same fish. Following this act of heroism, upon looking over my shoulder, I was momentarily panicked to see a police officer mere meters away. As he shifted his hands towards his waist, the horror of pacing away my days in a bedraggled Chinese prison long forgotten by the US Embassy flashed monstrously before my eyes. Turns out he was just reaching for his smokes - a well-deserved vice he would later, casually and all-too-ironically, cast into the pond. My anxiety all but fully abated until he listlessly uttered something in my direction. My Wu dialect being a bit too threadbare to claim for certain, but I think it was along the lines of, “Carry on.”

Hey did anyone order a couple of large dragons over here? One half-mushroom the other all bean paste. Haha. All hilarious, cutting, satire aside, I would just like to give a little shout out to the last photo in this series. This is, perhaps, one of my favorite photos. So esteemed in my pantheon of mediocrity in fact, that it has currently won the absurdly coveted desktop background title for my MacBook. My Sony Vaio, however, has a shot of some graffiti or something. You’re not that cool photo – get over yourself already. In addition, Apple or Sony: if you’re reading this, is a little commensurate funding for my sponsorship too much to ask? What’s that? I’m just another asshole sheep overpaying for your name? Ohh…

Listen up ninjas: I know you mostly reside in Japan and shit - I’m not that culturally destitute - but on the off chance that one of you decides to employ your grappling hook on this roof, oh, to say, get a worse view of the koi fish, would you mind not enmeshing the tines of your hook around this here sculpture? I know, I know, it’s just begging to be used as a fulcrum for your covert undertakings – although I’m not even sold on the fact it would support your weight – but, you see, we just really like the attention to detail on the fire-breathing horse. And do I even have to mention the inspiring length of that Fu Manchu? So if you could just choose a different precipice to anchor yourself to, that would be just great. Thanks in advance ninjas!

Sorry! I forgot to mention - this one’s off limits too. Thanks again!

Alas, I must put down the poison pen and needless verbosity to state simply… Wait I’m not even using a pen, this is all being done digitally. Well, I guess everyone would have instantly inferred the metaphorical underpinning I was going for. Although, maybe not. Maybe it would have momentarily befuddled a dear reader of mine and that is clearly not the mellifluous precedent I have set with my blog thus far. You know what, come to think of it, maybe I should start writing down my commentary with a pen first. Perhaps, in some sort of odd, fantastical, way, homage to the literary tradition will channel untold levels of refined creativity setting a new course for my artistic direction. That’s certainly something to consider… Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, no bombastic commentary desired for this one folks. I just wanted to say it is also amongst my favorites.