Saturday, October 16, 2010. I had a wee in the morning and went back to bed for half an hour of snuggling before I had to get up for real. I was wearing my thin long johns and they were making me a bit too warm for comfort so I wriggled them off boxers and all. This bedazzlement of activity in the morning got the curiosity of Catzu. Having been deprived of attention for the whole night. Locked out of our room he had slunk in as I returned from the lav. On seeing my junk hanging free she made a bee line for her target and the next thing I know with my long johns round my ankles half asleep Catzu,s had sunk one of her claws into my scrotum. In hindsight the pain was not severe, an acute stinging sensation, thankfully the actual testicals had been left out of this swaray but none the less the very sight, the image of a kitten with a single claw stuck in the old beans pod unsettled me greatly and I retracted my genitals quickly giving a hard pat to the creatures head. On close inspection no real damage had been done. Only a slight reddening around a very small raised spot. This sort of behavior is completely unacceptable and should be stamped out before seeds can germinate.
I didn’t feel much like snuggling after all that and instead I got back up and had a shower, periodically checking my injured sack incase I had missed a horrific wound. Later in the morning I went to school and watched a junior wrestling competition. I waited by the running track for my class mates to come out but to no avail. Instead I was subject to some whooping and goading from the kick boxing team who showed how clever they were by shouting things like “herro” or “ how arr u?” At first I viewed this with a Zen like detachment but it went on for a goodish time and my supple of Zen was squeezed to the very tip of the tube and when I had rolled it, scraped it and found my supple wanting I started to think about saying something snappy to these hoodlums and then I realized that if I did try that it would sound stupid and childish and I would make myself look like a prat.
Thankfully a wrestling student I knew waved me in his direction and we both walked together to the large stadium and entered the second floor. Have you have ever seen a zombie film or something like that where a world has been deserted to dust and decay and you see the films hero staggering through a ghost town?. Well this stadium was in that sort of line, or in fact worse because at least in a post apocalyptic scenario there is no one to throw rubbish around anymore. This humungous stadium appeared wantonly abused. Whole stare ways where unusable from desks rubble and muck blocking the way. Hundreds of cigarette butts and fresh pools of spit speckled every floor space, Windows to dead rooms almost unsee throughable. My team mate and I pushed through the heavy doors and entered the second level of the seats looking down on the large ground floor at least a full sized basketball court if not more with two large matted areas set up one for the males and the other for the female wrestlers. I sat with a group of my class mates and we cheered and laughed as we watched the matches between the teenagers take place.
A little tired from all the good natured but incessant questionings from strangers I shimmied down the metal ladder to the ground floor and took a few pictures and spoke with some judges and wrestling affiliates I had met in the past, doing my diplomat duties. The relative peace of the competition was broken when one of the organizers ran shouting onto the male mats and pointed accusingly at a very muscle young man with thighs like a bull and a head like a stone pea. The general jist of things was that this beasty thing was way over 15 years old and a loud argument ensued between the organizer and the monsters coach. I got the idea of the argument and it was pretty much the same as many other if not all raging disputes in China which I have seen. A sort of bull shit fandango involving quick machine gun bellowing. Sarah occasionally tries this stunt on me to great effect I must say. The small crowd of spectators stopped watching the competition and began watching this shouting match. Being the big man that I am I walked away and created a conversation with a young wrestler I am trying to befriend. The up shot being I asked him if he wanted to go and get some breakfast after the comp, he said he had to go to class, and then I asked him if he wanted to go out in the evening and I could teach him some English. He looked embarrassed and said he didn’t know. He left with his friends and I was pleased that I finally asked him out, even if he was embarrassed now the ball was in his court and if he felt like it we could become friends. The event finished and Coach Ma and I had a longish convo, I was pleased because in general he isn’t the chattiest of men and I have always hoped that our relationship could evolve beyond the customary morning grunts and “see you in the afternoon” stage. Although I know he is a kind hearted man it’s very hard to have a chummy chat with the man. He is a closed stone door.
The rest of the day was spent on my posterior watching films and drinking myself half silly with watery beer until bed time, sleep and rest.
Do you lose it when you clutch too tight?
So close that you cannot see?
Is it the doing or the feeling which counts?
Is it what you make of it or how you look at it?
Questions spawning from nothing creating problems,
Buildings as high as the stars with no foundation,
Calling the sky heaven, underground hell,
Your neighbor the devil, yourself on the cross,
A sack of bones and sinew, fragile and fleeting,
The Mind a garden over grown with half made worlds,
Turning rainbows into murky brown, blending everything,
The heart an ocean, with the surging power of the tide