(something from 4/18… forgot to post here..)
I was in the bathroom in Bunche today, and I was thinking of how the stalls and the smell vaguely reminded me of Taiwan. Maybe it ws the visceralness of the scene, with the pungent odors of human waste wafting up, floating between tall gray stalls with plastic door locks. I almost expect there to be a hole in the ground, some place for women to squat over whilst doing their business.. .and a rope to pull when one’s finished.
home? is it familiar?
I think of developing countries in a really odd way. There are times when I’m completely disgusted with what it means for countries to “develop.” Modern technologies only hide so much… just because it’s hidden from us doesn’t mean it disappears. it just appears someplace else. There is nothing truly pristine, the way humans like to think of it.
And another thing. I feel dirty in Los Angeles. I thought it was just the dorms.. or maybe how we live. but no.. it’s in the air, in the water. I drank some hot water today, and I could taste the chlorine vapors float in the back of my throat. it was like taking a mouthful of pool water.. and you know how great that is. The water feels dirty, too. Like you can shower, but you’ll never be clean. You can wash your face, but your pores will never be clear, your skin never free of the pollution and the dust and the gaseous emissions spewed into the Los Angeles air. You can wash yourself, scrub yourself with bath beads and loofahs, but you can’t erase that thin film of sooty clogging up your pores. it smothers and spreads.
I want to go home soon. I need to go home soon. I feel myself losing touch with myself with every passing moment.. and I’m clinging so hard to who I am/who I need to be…