I am the Wu Tang Clan

Tonight I walked alone in the cold Shanghai night. It is strange to see the city asleep, huddled under the blanket of cold. I stood in an intersection and saw no cars coming towards or away from me. And I walked, in the cold, a cold of which I am unaccustomed to. A cold which requires a hat, and scarf, and gloves, and actual coat in order to venture out in on a daily basis. This is something I am unaccustomed to. One of the many fabulous and wonderful new things of which I have been made to grow accustomed to in this bright blinding city on the other side of the world. A place which is so far from home, and yet is so close to home. A city of bone, concrete, in which it is hard, white and cold, and yet which is pulsing with blood and life and soul. And in the cold I think of the closing weeks. And how I am trying to breathe in these experiences while I can. And I walk to a place of solitude, a place where I have been before. On top of a building. A majestic mountain overlook of a sprawling and pounding, beating urban jungle. And I go here because it is crazy. Because I must. Because the man who tightrope walks does it because he is crazy. And because he must feel life and death. And in it something beautiful is created. And I think of the man who walks the tightrope, perched between the two tallest towers in the world, and who in the middle of his crossing looks straight down below him to see something that he will never again see in his life. And I think that I am crazy to walk in this lonesome cold. But I think of how I am invincible. And how all of my new learning is true in this moment. Because I am a white man, and no one will touch me. Because whoever fucks with the white man has a mess on his hands, a mess which his government will swiftly and economically wipe clean. And I think about being in a place in which such a reality is still so utterly and apparently real. We have come along way. And we haven't really come any way at all. And I am the Wu Tang Clan. And I feel guilty. But then I remember that I was born into this. And this reality extends beyond me. And I will do my best not to propogate it. But I will be damned if I let it’s opportunities slip through my fingers. And then I see another man. And I am no longer invincible. But an animal again. A life. Which ends. And my senses stand on end. And I find myself feeling where he walks, though I do not turn to look. And in this moment I am in rare form. And something which I am usually not. And this is fortunate. But I cannot help but feel exhilarated. He passes, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. And I walk up the stairs. And I look out on the city whose lights are turned off, because no one is there to look at them. And in this moment I am a rich man. Because I am the king of this mountain. And young. And things which are beyond my control have made me rich. My one for their seven. The lady today told me that they don’t have yuan on a tie, because only the dollar is good. And I can buy anything I want in this country. But I think to myself that myself and everyone I know can buy anything they want, if they really want it. And I wonder whether or not the ability to buy something is what makes one wealthy? And looking out, I know the answer to this question before I even finish asking it.