Half In Half Out: Shanghai

Andy and I made a bet on whether I can publish a New Yorker article. I consider his part of the deal too big a commitment.

“If you want, you can take back the bet on my New Yorker article. You may have been too tired to realize what you got yourself into.”

“Also, Let’s make it two years - life time is too long to be fun.”

I text-messaged him in the airport while waiting for my plane back to New York.

“You can change the terms of the bet any way you want. I cannot really hold you to a bet you are certain to lose”.

He wrote back in an email later because his cell phone is so old that the letters and numbers on the buttons are all rubbed off.

“Thanks for the encouragement. I will try not to have it done before you get a cell phone with lettered buttons”.

He gave me the last words.

—–

I am hungry. Dinner last night was popcorn in some sort of sea turtle club, and three beers. I had a cup of milk this morning.

I had thought the gathering would be filled with young snobbish fashionable people who can barely speak Chinese. But I was pleasantly surprised. We played murder together, that was actually fun.

If I don’t go and hunt for food, if I wait till two days from now when my aiyi comes here to cook, if I stay in the same place for these two days, will the earth stop turning around? will anyone know? will anyone care?

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