7 pm in Renon, and still nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Sitting naked and drippy in the backyard, waiting for that rare, delicious breath of breeze to brush across my skin. Heaven.
Having nothing else to do, I happened to read an old movie review on Facebook, and this in turn led me to a review of another movie--I don't know why or how. Just the way Facebook works, I guess.
This was an article from a few years ago regarding the banning of the movie Noah in Indonesia. A ridiculous response to a rather ridiculous, fanciful treatment of the Biblical story (which also, of course, appears in the Koran). But what surprised me about this article is that it was written by a certain Richard Boughton. Hey, I thought, that's me. But then again, it could not have been me, for this article seemed keenly intelligent, critically perspicacious, and did not sound like me at all.
I noted, however, comments attached to the article from several of my friends here in Bali, and I realized that this must indeed have been me.
I have no recollection of the thing. I cannot think now why I would have even been interested in the subject. And yet it was clear that at the time of the writing, I, or whomever I was then, was acutely engaged.
I have met this night a stranger, and the stranger is me.
Having nothing else to do, I happened to read an old movie review on Facebook, and this in turn led me to a review of another movie--I don't know why or how. Just the way Facebook works, I guess.
This was an article from a few years ago regarding the banning of the movie Noah in Indonesia. A ridiculous response to a rather ridiculous, fanciful treatment of the Biblical story (which also, of course, appears in the Koran). But what surprised me about this article is that it was written by a certain Richard Boughton. Hey, I thought, that's me. But then again, it could not have been me, for this article seemed keenly intelligent, critically perspicacious, and did not sound like me at all.
I noted, however, comments attached to the article from several of my friends here in Bali, and I realized that this must indeed have been me.
I have no recollection of the thing. I cannot think now why I would have even been interested in the subject. And yet it was clear that at the time of the writing, I, or whomever I was then, was acutely engaged.
I have met this night a stranger, and the stranger is me.
2 comments:
MS (is it MS?) can be scary sometimes...
Christoph--I reckon so. This should not be surprising, really, as similar things happen often enough--yet it always shocks me. I remember confidently declaring not long ago that I had been to only on Halloween party in my life (in the eighth grade). My ex-wife rather tiredly corrected me, reminding me that I had been to several with her.
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