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Archive for August, 2013

One morning I woke up in the midst of one of my periodic struggles with depression and despair wondering if I even was going to be able to get out of bed that day. I turned over and looked across the room to the blanket on the floor in the corner where the Little Masseuse slept. She was lying there staring up at the ceiling giggling. Annoyed that in the midst of my existential crisis anyone could find anything amusing, I growled, “What’s so funny?” Besides who giggles at 6:30 in the morning? In her fractured English she said, “In America you white and fat. In Thailand you black and small.” “And, you find this amusing,” I responded? She did not answer but got up, squatted by the small water heating appliance and began making that morning’s jolt of instant coffee. I returned back to the bed, laid down, stared up at my section of the ceiling and contemplated the impenetrable barrier of intercultural humor while she continued to chuckle in the background. I later got up and glanced in the mirror and noticed that indeed my belly, if not necessarily flat, seemed to protrude much less than when I was most recently in California. As for the blackness, I decided that she was referring to the current state of my soul. As I sat at the table drinking my coffee (three heaping tablespoons in a small cup), I wondered if there was not something about that morning that was auspicious, but alas, its meaning escaped me.

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