Sunday, 21st, March, 2010. Yet
again I got up late and I flopped on the sofa and watched TV, to my great annoyance
it was not giving me the blissful satisfaction I had envisaged last week, in
fact I was bored. I got up and after a late breakfast (lunch) Sarah and I went
to the city centre and had a look around the shops and watched the new Sherlock
holms film in a cinema. We tried to buy a durian but there were none in the
supermarket. We walked home and I saw a young girl with dirty clothes on and a
head twice as small as usual crouching by the side of the road. A man passed
and flicked a 1 mao note in her direction. It bounced of her shoulder and she
slowly reached down and picked it up. What are some people’s lives like? There
is so much utter misery and pain out there for some. I complain when I have to
work hard. I think that my life is hard when I have to get up in the morning.
Some people just crawl up hill all their lives, struggling. These people are
everywhere. I see them sifting through the bins. You see cripples, madmen and
grubby children scrounging everywhere, and what about the people who are
struggling inside. The ones who have been raped, or their partners or family
have died or they are being exploited? Sarah told me that many poor people come
from the country side to beg and that a lot of them make a lot of money when
they come to the city. Apparently there was a documentary made about beggars in
China and the presenter followed a few and they were making over 10000 Yuan (1000
pounds) a month, which is a lot of money in China. Somehow I felt that this
girl by the side of the road was not making so much, but I don’t know. It’s all
very dark sometimes. You can see the light in everything, but other times you
cannot help becoming sad at the way things are.


When we got home we watched “Shutters
Island” on our lap top. It’s a thriller about a mental institute on an Island
in America. It was very good, lots of twists and turns to confuse you. Before I
went to bed I unplugged the computer and I saw that the wall socket had a
plaster across the top two holes. I had a vivid sense of dajavu. I am skeptical
about dajavu because in all likeliness I have come across a blocked up hole in
a wall socket before. I went to bed thinking about significance and how a significant
moment or thought is nothing without the emotion. You could watch a meteor
shower at night or see your child being born but if you’re not feeling good or
if something else is on your mind it could be boring or meaningless. Or you can
be looking at a damp spot on the ceiling and you have an epiphany, a moment of
clarity. Is there anything significant or meaningful? Or is it just a sensation?
People can argue about the way things are and you can always find evidence or
points to support any claim you make. So what is real? Does it matter? And to
quote Douglas Adams “does it matter that it matters?”

One thought on “part55

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