Randomly surfing through local street names and places for both work and pleasure, and I hit up a few walking tours. One of them talks about red lanterns, which is a hoity kind of euphemism for the old, long-gone prostitution areas near Chinatown, but I clicked on it anyway and it listed the sites -
The Street of the Dead, it listed. It made me stop for a little while because no one calls it that - or, at least, I don't remember ever having been introduced to the street in English. I hear it in Cantonese in my head, sae yan gaei, which is far more damning - Dead Man's Street. They left sick people in those shophouses there to die, way back when.*
I don't remember why I remember these things. My country sneak attacks me! Does anyone else's country sneak attack them? ♥
 *AND BECAUSE I AM WHO I AM this story actually comes with a crucial bit of hilarity. The word "street" and "chicken" in Cantonese are so tonally similar to my ears that I can't differentiate the two most of the time. There's meant to be more of a vowel-sound inflection on one of them - "gAI" as opposed to "gaEi" - but I can never get them right, and my parents think it is hilarious. I mean, Dead Man Chicken. DRAMATIQUE!!
Sudden urge to go back to my old school, attach myself to my teachers, and never let go. These people have changed my life in ways they - and I - can't even imagine. What I am is 50% part of what they made me. The rest is just what I did with that 50% in the time that's come after. How do I ever say good-bye to these people, now that some of the really important ones are leaving? It doesn't make sense. It doesn't compute. They've change the course of my life; it seems illogical to just float on.
Tell me your stories, guys? Who has changed your lives? Did you keep in touch afterwards, if you parted ways? Or did you keep quiet, your silence your sort of tribute? What did you say? Anon comments, as always, are on. ♥
Before I go off to get my ass handed to me again, I shall post. Oh, politics, I'm sorry for beating you up so much. I promise that I'll stop soon. Very soon. Probably.
- The New York Times writing about how newspapers in the city have been sold out since early this morning. ♥ History, you have been made.
- Proposition 8 got passed in California, 52% for, and I've had so much heartbreak over gay rights that right now all I want to do is beat something in. With a fish. A big fish. Like a tuna. That's huge fish.
- From the Yuletide counters: Ursula K Le Guin - the Hainish Cycle (4,9). OH YEAH, BABY. GO, MY CHILDREN, GO FORTH AND PROPOGATE.
- The Kinkfest prompt that the elections ended up rolling over; will probably end up being a few days late OH GOD I AM SORRY asjflka.
The Hainish Cycle victory made me remember one of the things about Le Guin's writing that moves my personal philosophy, and keeps me alive in moments in between euphoric victory and relatively crushing defeat. These are the words of a young king, self-exiled, to a plenipotentiary of a union of many worlds:
"The dream of the Ekumen, then, is to restore that truly ancient commonalty; to regather all the peoples of all the worlds at one hearth?"
Axt nodded, chewing bread-apple. "To weave some harmony among them, at least. Life loves to know itself, out to its furthest limits; to embrace complexity is its delight. Our difference is our beauty. All these worlds and the various forms and ways of the minds and lives and bodies on them - together they would make a splendid harmony."
"No harmony endures," said the young king.
"None has ever been achieved," said the Plenipotentiary. "The pleasure is in trying."