The one that should have been posted last Thursday

I's a good thing they moved the airport to Lantau, so I don't have to see the city's harborscape from the plane. Otherwise i'd be gone. Just gone. Hong Kong at night is altogether too tempting. And Holiday Hong Kong? This is like staring Dream Girl in her suddenly shy eyes underneath the mistletoe. And i can't kiss her. dammit dammit dammit. This is completely unfair. I cant think of anything I like more than Holiday Hong Kong at night. Future wife, I hope you're listening. If I ever seem a bit too reluctant to ask a certain question, convince me to take you to Holiday Hong Kong. It works every time. I mean, I'm sure it'll work the first time.

Mai Soshul fo paw (it's phonetic, not foreign)

I'm in Bangkok for a couple of days to attend some meetings on Avian Influenza. There are a bunch of business people, especially from food and agricultural industries, like McDonalds, Cargill, and Tyson. Also, I'm easily the youngest person at these meetings. This has its advantages and disadvantages. Some of the disadvantages include: no one takes me seriously at first, people don't usually try to approach me to talk, and There actually aren't any advantages really. Well maybe one. Wednesday evening the participants of our meeting were invited to a cocktail party by the hotel's pool. I figured that it'd be a good chance to meet some of the other people. So I thought this would be like a pool party. I almost wore swim trunks. I decided instead on jeans and a collared shirt. I arrived (half an hour late; who knew that red lights could last 15 minutes?) to a gathering of suits. Awkward, party of one. Well, it wasn't any worse than it had been already. I got to listen to a man from the US Department of Agriculture explain how fake pear bacteria are causing $5 billion economic problems between the US and China. Let's rewind a few days so I can tell you about Espy, my new roommate, who arrived on Saturday. Espy is 19, and taking year's break from school to work doing public relations for ADRA Vietnam. I think he's designing a web site (sorry Jill, maybe it'll suck and we can improve it). He's pretty funny, and we get along well. It helps that he cooks, and I know enough numbers in Vietnamese to get stuff at the market. We're taking Vietnamese lessons together now, and he'll very soon surpass me (actually he already has; in my defense, I hadn't learned any Vietnamese before he arrived). But he already speaks like four languages, and I'm thinking that might be something of an advantage. So we have some differences. Also he has a girlfriend, is diligent in his work, preferred Goal! to Fight Club, and has lived in Kenya. I'm half jealous. Or maybe a little more than half, but less than 3/4. I'm bored. I should fill out one of those Christmas surveys, so when it asks if I've ever kissed under the mistletoe I can write something like "unwillingly, or unwittingly" and feel very clever and then see how the clever thing is working out for me. It usually works pretty well, especially here in Vietnam where no one understands my simple sentences (such as "No meat."), much less any of my wordplays. It's now almost 6 am and I've been up all night annoying people. It happens.

My New Plan

It's a little thing I like to call everyone makes my Top 8 at some point or another. So if you're feeling like you're not getting John's Top 8 respect, send me a note or a Howler and I'll remedy it. But family always makes the list, so if you want a permanent spot you'll have to marry in or at least volunteer a sibling. And I'll post for real later. I promise. But at the moment I'm at work and "supposed to be doing work-related things." Somehow this doesn't count. Maybe I just should have not asked.

No more philosophy; back to facts. Or at least things I imagine.

The city was screaming and groaning a lot last night. There must have been a football game on. And by football I mean soccer, not American football. The past week has been fraught with bad ideas on my part. I would like to report that most of those potential disasters never made it past the thinking stage. For those of you who know better, please refrain from reporting my fall from repute here. I'm sure there are whole message boards reserved for such things. And no, I will not be answering any questions regarding a grey sock, a bag of tofu squares, and a chicken. I'm just glad that I wasn't in the range of cameras when the little rogue cut through my belt. I hadn't realized that I'd lost so much weight here. Mom, I need a new grey sock. I don't need that grey cloth belt anymore. I learned that chickens in fact don't sink when you throw them in water, they just get angry and grow poisonous talons. The weather here got cold almost overnight. Truthfully it took two nights. One day it was mid 70s. The next it was 40s. And a cold wet 40s. Humidity sucks. Cold humidity is just so freakin chilling. It's like living in an ice bath. But at least with the cold weather I get to wear warm clothes that don't reveal my emaciated body. It's not that the Vietnamese food isn't good, it's just that I don't trust my chicken, cow, pig, and fish impressions combined with the shaking of my head is enough to inform the restaurant owners that I don't eat meat. So I have to cook for myself. Let me just say that when rice burns, it doesn't all burn at once, and I can usually salvage the top inch or so. I convinced a girl to read me The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I'm excited. And when I say convinced, what I really mean is that she hasn't said no yet. I'm not sure that she's actually had the opportunity to say no. Basically it'll be a surprise. I mean, it won't be a surprise to me; I'm the one who planned this in the first. I'm finally to understand my work here. It's a lot of meeting with people and government officials (who are people too, except for that one meanie that served a very strong and bitter tea that I politely sipped (because I'd feel embarrassed to have a cup full of tea sitting in front of me), but apparently i sipped too much because the guy then refilled my cup, and the whole process started anew). Still, it's pretty cool to ask governments for $500,000. I hear I'm getting a roommate tomorrow night. All I really know about him is that he's Congolese (I'm not sure which Congo he's from), but I've decided that his name is Chris Turk (or maybe Cal Turk) and that he's going to medical school with me next year. Speaking of medical schools, I got my first interview invite. The double L. Yeah boy. Someone tell Erik Nielsen hi for me. Danielle, maybe call him or something. Or at least get me his email address; I seem to have lost it or never known it in the first place.

Hate mail to a long dead author, who remains annoyingly influential

At Delphi, a place in Greece where these old hags, or oracles, got visions by inhaling the methane that was exuded from fissures in the rocks, there is a temple to Apollo. The temple houses two rather famous phrases: "Know thyself" and "Everything in moderation." These quotes are often considered to be jewels—finely cut quotes that have stood the test of time. Generally speaking, yes, they're concise and sound nice. Know thyself is alright. It's a nice little self-evaluation. Figure out your strengths and weaknesses. Recognize your potentials. Find out who you are. But it sounds too much like a process of discovery. Like you're a person who's already formed but just has to be fully unveiled. It's very predestinarian. Which is fine, if you're an ancient Greek who believes in the certitude of fate. Or if you're Martin Luther or Calvin. But they'd call it something different. But it's determinism from most points of view. And that's OK. Some people like that certainty. That capital T Truth. But I'm not so clever, and don't easily discover Truth. Or sometimes Truths become truths. And then that's messy. It's also messy when someone else has a Truth they think everyone should hear, and their Truth disrupts the peace. I'll stop with the philosophizing, but I'll suffice to say that until everyone everywhere has the same Truth truths, there will be no Peace. And given the choice, I'd take peace over truth any day. But that's the scientist in me talking. And if that doesn't make sense, just ask me about it some other time. Everything in moderation. This is a f-ing lie. Moderation is an exuse. An excuse to drink, or to smoke, or to eat another piece of cake, or to not eat another piece of cake. It's an excuse to stop work at 5, or to obey the 3 second hug rule, or to not sing and dance when you're so happy you just might die. Moderation is middle of the road. It's mediocrity. It's status quo and self control and unaccomplished. Seriously, what has moderation ever done? It's a safety device. It keeps people from colliding with their cars or their lips. But I'm pretty sure it didn't build the Taj Mahal or the pyramids. It didn't invent the light bulb or paint Starry Night. I mean, do you seriously think that Oppenheimer and Einstein were moderate? What about Muhammad Ali or Mahatma Gandhi? Florence Nightengale or Napoleon Bonaparte? Jesus? Was Jesus moderate? Think about it. Or don't. Go ahead and believe the Greeks. Anything that's well written and sounds clever makes for good Truth. So tell a girl you love her moderately. Ask for a moderately skilled dentist. Listen to moderately good music. Just don't hope to find me around. In other news, my wall is chirping.