“This thing reads like stereo instructions!”
I decided to read The Tibetan Book of the Dead, motivated both by idle curiosity and by the fact that I don’t really have much else to read at the moment. I’m not a fan of religion, of course, but I am a fan of storytelling. Religious stories are almost always entertaining, and usually quite a good laugh.
The book is a little difficult to get through, not exactly suitable ‘metro lit’. It’s kind of like a real version of the handbook in Tim Burton’s Beetle Juice. At one point it recommends literally defecating on stuff or snorting your own jizz up your nose as a way to ward off vengeful demons (instead of, you know, just taking your chances really).
On a totally unrelated note that gives me a decent title for this entry, it was Valentine’s Day last week. In China, ‘lovers day’ is celebrated pretty much the same way it is in the west: with a cadre of bell ends rushing home to their partners with a single red rose they bought at the last minute outside a subway station.
I’m used to spending Valentine’s on my own, usually doing what Chinese people euphemistically refer to as “shooting the aeroplane”. This year, though, I was just as tempted by the saccharine music and buckets of flowers as every other Jinger. I bought the gf a couple of romantic DVDs from Sanlitun, including some absolutely carcinogenic- looking shite with Keanu Reeves.*
I’m currently prostrating myself in front of the 52 wrathful deities in the hope that she’ll somehow want to watch it alone.
*(In return, I received a knife and fork: a gift from one who knows!)