Lucinda Holmes – HALiterature – on America

September 14th, 2011 § 3 comments § permalink

Bunny America: Drafting An Alternative Wiki Entry
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Motto – By the Bright Star Guide Us Forth to Distant Green and Plentiful Pastures.

This article is about America see We Rule  Spaceships on TV disambiguation, for other entries.

America is a feudalistic dynasty located on an island situated on the south coast of Italy to the immediate east of Sicily. It is constituted of forty-eight areas of land, with each piece of land populated by an extended family of rabbits. Each rabbit is permitted to bear arms.  The country accounts for 60% of world spending on military hardware.
Etymology :

The word ‘America’ comes from pre-historic Italian for ‘rubbish dump’, though this has often been mistranslated as ‘beautiful country’, which it is generally considered to be. However, the word in its plural form is Americasssss with four ‘ssss’ to dissociate it from any small children with similar names. In a similar way, for differing reasons, its nationals call themselves Americanssss.

Geography :

America is a small Mediterranean island with a dormant volcano at its centre. North of the volcano is an arid plain and to the south there is a humid and vegetated plain. At the base of the volcano is woodland, both coniferous and deciduous. The volcano is the source of the island’s only river, which meanders across the south plain to the sea. The climate is temperate, though the proximity of the sea gives rise to mild winters. Rainfall increases substantially in the winter, while spring and summer have occasional showers. Its land area is approximately 5,000 square kilometers when the tide is in, and 6,000 square kilometers when the tide is out. This liminal tide zone is a disputed area, with several other countries claiming it as part of their territory.

On the eastern side of the country is the Big Apple Core, the largest, rabbit hutch, high-rise, maximum capacity, dream city. On the western side is LW, or Los Warren.

It is believed that the lost city of Alaska lies submerged to the North West of the Island. The rabbit scientific community has stated that there is indisputable evidence of the lost city of Alaska, but it has been repeatedly disproved by many scientific bodies and various internationally reputable agencies.

History :

The first recorded settlers to America were an extended family of  Italian lupine religious zealots forced to leave their hometown of Piombino for their bad and monotonous religious singing. Fleeing religious oppression, they set forth with the intention of sailing the oceans to India, as they mistakenly believed that the rabbits living there were religious animals, and their lives as divine beings would finally be understood.

Instead their boat ran aground on an uninhabited island off the south coast of Italy, which they colonized and named America. In 50 AD a different breed of rabbits, the Fuzzy Lops, came to the island from Belgium and interbred creating a new subspecies. This subspecies had a distinctively different taste in food from its ancestors‘, liking semi spicy food wrapped in flour or corn pancakes. There was no tolerance for these newfangled cuisine eaters, so they were put on a ship with a couple of month’s worth of supplies, and deported. They ended up in Mexico and became Mexicans.  However, this subspecies has left their cuisine as a legacy in American culture, and, to this day, major cities have clusters of Mexican restaurants.

In the 19th Century the attacks of the Meandering Marauding Magicians and Agents of Meandering Marauding Magicians respectively commenced. Flotillas of M.M.M.s and A.M.M.M.s landed off the island, and sent in abduction squads that captured large numbers of Americanssss, which were subsequently forced to live a life of perpetual slavery.  Cyprus has long been accused by America as being a major staging post of rabbit trafficking.

Also in the 19th Century, the rabbits learnt how to swim, with large numbers of Americanssss becoming beach bums as a result. This had a negative effect on the island’s economy and industrialization, both of which lagged behind to a large degree.

In the 1960s, neighbouring Sardinia, in a strategy aimed at gaining a better understanding of the Americanssss’ mindset to enable an aggressive infiltration of their then-internally produced TV programmes, decided to capture a few rabbits each year and subject them to a series of physical and psychological tests. To avoid detection, the Sardinians, using a military base in Nuoro, invested heavily in the production a new type of flying craft, which were spaceships used to kidnap carefully chosen rabbits. As a result of these rabbit abductions and supposed sightings of alien space craft, the Americanssss now believe that America is a direct conduit for an alien nation that will make friends with the rabbit nation and enable it to dominate the world, which the Americanssss feel is rightly theirs.

Wars:

America has officially denounced the right to declare war, although it has claimed self defense in waging many seemingly aggressive and offensive military incursions.

Government:

The country is run by a small group of approximately twelve rabbits, of which each member is selected, from birth, to form the government, or the Cloud Halo Council as it is called. Those chosen then live in a desert commune and smoke copious amounts of ganja.  While their policies and directives are amazingly enlightened and forward thinking, they are under-cut by the representatives and bureaucrats who return to each feudal state after meeting with the council, and recite gibberish poetry in short, media friendly, sound bites.
There is one leader of the Cloud Halo Council, whose current leader is Bob Bunny Bush, who is chosen through a process determined  by the power plays of the various feudal states, their allegiances with each other, and the simplicity of the speeches given by each feudal state’s representative. As a result, quite often, the leader of The Cloud Halo Council is unaware that he has been declared as such.

Economy:

The export of biomass bunny poo is the main source of funds for the island country, and it is an equivalent to crude oil in terms of joules. As a result, each state is focused on increasing the population, so that it can make more cash for excrement. The various states  also invest heavily in military hardware, so they are unable to construct various public works and other such wonders.

Infrastructure:

The island is at the cutting edge of technology, with electricity being supplied in Wi-Fi form. In some districts it has leaked into the surrounding area, with the result being that the Americanssss living in these districts have particularly sticky-up hair. In some areas there are rabbits who have sticky-up hair. However,  the Wi-Fi electricity grid is actually functioning normally. It is just that the Wi-Fi electricity network affects Americanssss fitted with pacemakers differently than the rest of the population. In addition to the sticky-up hair, those affected by the Wi-Fi electrical grid’s out-put hop at a higher frequency than unaffected rabbits without pacemakers.

Military:

All Americanssss are eligible for national service, though a well-developed system of back-pawers has developed, so that the most unworthy can indefinitely defer completion of their national service. All enlistees are shipped out to Gaum, a small island off the coast of Portugal, which is inhabited by colony of Welsh Cormorants.

Amazingly, this island has a very low annual rainfall, making it somewhat dry and arid, and is littered with Welsh Cormorant guano, which has the highest sodium nitrate content of any sort of guano.

Combined with the Americanssss droppings, the Welsh Cormorants’ guano makes for an explosive combination.  Due to de-education, the rabbits are unaware of the explosive combustion of their excrement, so they spend their entire time trying to find the enemy  throwing nonexistent, but explosively deadly, bombs at them.

Under the dormant volcano at the island’s centre, there is an underground bunker which holds the world’s largest nuclear arsenal. However, the command execute button and key have been lost by The Cloud Halo Council during a re-enactment of Bob Rabbit Marley’s life and times, during which its members were wearing bandanas.

The underground nuclear base is run and supervised by an elite brigade of commando rabbits. The commando rabbits have radioactive droppings#, so they are unable to reintegrate into society, yet deny that they are in fact addicted to radioactive salts which have leaked from the Fat Man#, that they lick# at regular intervals.

The Americanssss have become pioneers in the use of war pigs, with a fully armed sty of around 500 war pigs#, each of which is armed with an AA-12, a combat shotgun, strapped to their backs and a BARZ, a silenced submachine gun.
Science and Technology:

The Americanssss are leaders in the race to mine the moon, with their motivation for conquering the moon being religious in nature. They feel that any visitation or inhabitation  by other nations’ personnel will contaminate their rabbit god Moon Lapis Goddess.  Therefore, they have built and sent up into space a series of defensive satellites armed with Nuclear War Pigs, which can be launched at short notice to destroy enemy incursions on the moon.

Transportation:

Every rabbit has access to an automobile, so that, in the case of committing a crime, they can drive at top speed, thus indicating their guilt to the local police force. Elevated highways that go around in circles have been built near each Hutch City. Anthropologists are unsure of the purpose of this.
Energy:

The countries main energy supply comes from the burning of rabbit dung, which supplies the National Grid Wi-Fi energy transfer system. Cars that have gone through a modification process in a refinery also run on rabbit droppings.
Education:

Rabbits are de-educated from an early age. This is so female rabbits are naïve and suitably impressionable during the frequent mating seasons. This process also means that most inhabitants don’t have any ‘ideas’, which gives rise to a predominantly harmonious society.
Health:

On the northern plan there is an abundance of Timothy-Grass, which is ideal food for rabbits.  Consequently, any ill or unhealthy rabbits migrate to this area to feast themselves on the grass. Unfortunately these sick and unhealthy rabbits are frequently killed-off by opportunistic and zealous Armageddonists who are determined to depopulate the country, and feel that, in doing so, they are putting the ill and elderly out of their misery.

Occasionally rabbits are snatched from the island by organic-loving giants, who use the rabbits as pregnancy test kits, in the belief that if the urine of a pregnant female human lands on a rabbit, it will immediately kill the rabbit#, thus ensuring a 100% natural pregnancy test. To ward off future snatches, the Americanssss created a giant statue, which has a pointy crown and holds a torch, and also serves as a an emblem of freedom for the rabbits, to stand just off the coast.

Amputees:

Since the beginning of time, rabbits have been snatched for their paws, or rather, a single paw.  In some countries, it is considered lucky to carry a dismembered rabbit limb around your neck.  Therefore, the rabbit population has now taken measures to counteract this violent act, and to reduce the number of hop-along amputees, though amputee rabbit pole-vaulting is an increasingly popular spectator sport.

Myxomatosis:

Myxomatosis was introduced by a high street clothing chain that wanted to flood the market with a line of confused and colourful finger gloves. As rabbits don’t have fingers, they put on the gloves, with mixed up digits, on their paws. They are then unable to breed, as they are too fascinated by attempting to touch their own genitals with the ‘confused colourful gloves’. Visitors to America can see rabbits infected by Myxomatosis rolling around with brightly covered hand gear on their front paws in a state of starvation, or acute dehydration. Once infected, a sufferer is ostracized from the community. No one has ascertained whether the infected rabbits are actually able to touch their private parts with the gloves or not. Gloves are now only dispensed from registered chemists in extreme circumstances.

Language:

Due to excessive levels of paranoia in the country, the Council of High Language meets every third Tuesday to discuss and decree the latest version of ‘Bunny Talk’, the informal name of the national language Rhinocerousfranca, which is also known as Bunnilingus because of the fact that Americanssss eat grass. This usually means that basic words such as pronouns, ‘he’ and ‘she’, for example, are often switched or changed around, as well as many other highly frequently-used words. These changes last for three weeks, then there is another decree on the updated version on the language. For example, one week ‘He’ is ‘He’, ‘She’ is ‘She’ and ‘Thank you’ is ‘Thank you’, . However, following a new linguistic decree,‘She’ becomes ‘He’, ‘He’ becomes ‘Who’, and ‘Thank You’ becomes ‘Potato”. This is highly advantageous, since it means that the TV industry is perpetually kept busy updating and changing programmes to meet the new language. It also means that outside imports into the spoken and written work industry are non-existent. Books are used as things to put coffee cups on, although Americanssss do not drink coffee. Any rabbit using an out of date version of Bunny Talk is immediately suspected to be either a spy, an alien, or an impostor of some kind. Although Americanssss who have been abducted by alien species also exhibit the same language integration problems, it is believed that many spies have lied about alien abduction to cover up their true identity.

Religion:

There are four different religions in America:

1.        The Armageddon Rabbits
2.    Followers of Iffy
3.    Bunnishism
4.    Joeism

The Armageddon Rabbits comprise a religious sect that wants the volcano to erupt and kill large swaths of the population to free up more land for the remaining rabbits. They make monthly sacrifices of the most voluptuously fertile female rabbits by tossing them off into the volcano crater. Unbeknownst to them, however, due to the frequency of this act, the crater surface is now cushioned by the plethora of rabbit corpses.

So many recent victims have survived the fall into the crater and have created their own sub-culture, with this group of voluptuous in-heat rabbits subsequently forming the religious cult of Joeism. These permanently in-heat females make bimonthly raids on villages adjacent to the volcano, which are an attempt to find males that best match their god, Joey’s, character and physical appearance,select those taken to use as sex slaves, and finally sacrifice them to their god. Any female offspring resulting from these unions are kept, while the males are turned into kebabs.

A whole genre of television programmes has been created to fulfill the religious needs of this group of female rabbits, and especially a TV show based around the daily life of their god, Joey, who lives in a loft in the Big Apple Core with his friends,which is the most popular of the lot.

Most rabbits, especially as children, follow a very symmetrical white rabbit deity called ‘Iffy’. Icons of ‘Iffy’ can be frequently found adorning children’s pencil cases. The commandments of Iffy are:

1. Thou shalt not be seen or heard
2. Japanese small cats are never to be trusted
3. Thou shalt engage in radical direct ecological action (due to intensive de-education at an early age most rabbits have no idea what this is)
4. Cute noises shall becometh thee

Bunnishism :

Bunnishism is the main religion of the island. It is in decline and Americanssss rarely give prayers to Moon Lapis Goddess, and Frank, a 2.1 meter-tall apocalyptic rabbit#, similar in standing to the devil.
Marriage:

Americanssss fall in love, marry for life, and produce as many offspring as rabbitly possible. When five or more couples want to wed, a date is agreed-upon, and a multiple wedding takes place. Multiple weddings are more socially acceptable, as in the rabbit community, interbreeding is frequent. However, this means it is difficult to ascertain who your actual relatives are. By making it a multiple wedding, the whole community is involved, and no one has to think too hard about who is related to whom. There is no aisle, again to avoid questions as to who is on the bride’s side, and who is on the groom’s. side.

The brides dress like Iffy, their childhood goddess. This can cause problems, as all the brides at the multiple wedding look very similar, if not identical, to each other.  However, many Americanssss have married the wrong bunny bride and lived long happy lives, with large litters.

Family Structure:

Rabbits form temporary tightly knit extended families. Contrary to popular disbelief, rabbits do not have sexual relations outside of the extended family.

Crime and Law Enforcement:

If any rabbit commits a crime, it is common practice for it to get into a car, and drive at top speed. This is a signal to law enforcement agents to pursue the criminal in a high-speed car chase, which, in turn,is normally filmed live, so the rest of the inhabitants of America can either, a, state that they either know, or are somehow related to the offender, or, b, know where the car is, and go to an area where they think they can get on TV.

Due to intense paranoia about alien abductions, rabbits have now started to fit themselves with their own personal burglar alarm. In the 1970s burglar alarms were only imported, so the alarm would often be larger that the rabbit itself. These alarms were considered to be the height of culture, and many marriages have been arranged on the basis of the size and shape of a male’s or female’s burglar alarm.
Rabbit Detention and Correctional Facilities:

Criminals are housed in a correctional facility, a military base which is located in Malaga Bay, on the Spanish coast, which Spanish officials have declared is an illegal intrusion on Spanish soil.  One complicating aspect to this story is that the Americanssss have been writing and sending cheques to the Spanish Malaga Chief Treasurer, and one of these cheques was mistakenly cashed. Therefore, the  bunny invaders have decided that this is a clear indication of the Spanish authorizing this Americanssss’ exclave. All subsequent cheques have been sent returned to sender, but keep ending up in Cardiff, due to an irregular zip code anomaly.

Prisoners at The Malaga Bay Detention Facility have allegedly been subjected to various forms of torture, including extended periods of Watership Downing#, which involves the inmates being forced to watch the film version of Watership Down, which is an experience so emotionally gut-wrenching for the Americanssss, that several have committed suicide.
Culture:

Each rabbit family has a television, which is their main source of culture. Generally speaking, rabbit popular TV reaches a cultural zenith, when it is a rerun of a remake of a very old story to which everyone knows the ending, the ending is a happy one, no one has sex outside of marriage, and all of the bad characters die.

Americanssss are divided into two groups. However, this division is not based on class or heritage, but is made on the basis of Americanssss with symmetrical ears, and those without symmetrical ears,with symmetrically eared rabbits being considered slightly more important than asymmetrically eared rabbits.  While some doctors on the island have modified rabbits to make their ears asymmetrical, it is impossible to do it the other way around.

Americanssss drive automobiles, but at extremely slow speeds, as there is a cultural perception that the speed at which you travel has a direct correlation to how nice a person you are, so, the slower the better. Driving fast means that you get less sex and less Timothy-Grass.

Bunny Law:

Bunny Law is a process of judgment via televised cases or case appeals, where the viewing public decides, using a red ‘guilty’ button and a green ‘not-guilty’ button on their TV remotes. Though most defendants are statistically declared ‘off’, ‘mute’, ‘standby’, or ‘rabbit porn channel’, these votes, (remote button presses) are not counted. TV companies liaise with the police to identify test cases that are deemed to be of the public interest, with ones considered uninteresting normally resulting in the defendant being automatically released, although the evidence is kept on file. Decisions of guilt can vary more on the viewing time of the case, as opposed to the actual evidence. Prime time for not guilty verdicts is around lunchtime, when nanny rabbits, who are generally more caring, watch television for extended periods of time. Cases where the defendant is found not guilty generally take longer than hearings where they are found guilty, with court verdicts being more about the viewers’ attention spans and boredom levels, as opposed to any close consideration of the evidence.
Food:

There are large expansive quantities of Timothy-Grass on the island northern side, while Los Warren is the capital of Mexican food, and beach bums eat large quantities of frozen lettuce.

Sports:

The most popular sport in America is rabbit show jumping#, followed by rabbit dressage. There are several teams authorized to organize show jumping events, though there are also some occasions of feral rabbit show jumping. However, The Cloud Halo Council is trying to clamp down on these latter exhibitions, but with little success.



Ginger wRong Chen – Groupthink – America

September 14th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

An American in Shanghai

Saturday night, when Benjamin Martin set foot in the JZ Club near the corner of Fuxing Xi Lu and Yongfu Lu, he found himself in a packed music box, the music venue in town, and it was already full, like every weekend.

Benjamin was in a high-spirited hunting mood.

A handsome man in his mid-thirties, tall and well-built, he believed in taking good care of himself by eating well and strictly sticking to his exercise schedule, even reading, both Internet articles and books, so he could be as physically and intellectually fit as possible. He had been trying his best to train himself into a Renaissance man, equally conversant about wine as well as baseball, the Chinese Tang dynasty’s history as well as the American Civil War‘s, and Shanghai women as well as Paris Fashion Week, all with the goal of easily passing as a perfect lover and a brilliant mind.

A young Chinese girl was looking at his direction. She was a pretty girl about 20 years old, with silky black hair, full lips, and of average height, but with lines of pleasing proportions, with a small, tight,waist that created an illusion that it could be easily held in one hand.

When her eyes saw Benjamin, an almost unnoticeable smile of desire crawled up to her eyebrows.

Benjamin deftly returned her interest.

She turned her head aside at once, pretending to be not interested, but couldn’t help laying her eyes back on him again. He took the hint and went over to her.

“Hi,” he extended his hand, “I’m Benjamin.”

“Spring,” she replied, taking his hand with much delight.

“What a beautiful name!”, for Benjamin never forgot to pay any girl a compliment, “And, may I say, you look stunning!”

She cast her eyes down slightly, however, the pleased flushing shown on her cheeks didn’t escape his observant eyes.

“Are you Shanghainese?” he asked her in the casual way that people have when
they say, “how are you?”.

“No. I’m from Tianjin, the city very close to Beijing.”

Her answer relieved him somewhat. Shanghainese girls had gained some notoriety for being too practical, calculating, and tough to deal with. For Benjamin, it was always a good sign to know that the girl he was hitting on was not a local.

Yes, he admitted to himself that he was holding a prejudice against Shanghainese women based on stereotypes. But, he also justified his prejudice by reasoning, “I’m a very busy man. I don’t have time to waste on proving a stereotype is right or wrong.”

However when it came to himself, Benjamin was more open-minded and impartial, which was also quite human, since we all tend to love ourselves a little more, and was generally quite satisfied with himself. He loved what he saw in the mirror every morning, enjoyed what his mind had to say every day, and took great pleasure in how his body performed every night.

If there was one itsy-bitsy regret, it probably would be that he was an American. Oh, please don’t get him wrong, Benjamin loved his country. Most of the time, he was proud to be a great Yankee. Sometimes, when he crossed borders, he would hold his passport in hand and confidently grin, thinking, “With a U.S. passport, the world is yours.”

But, whenever with other cosmopolitans in this oriental melting pot, he couldn’t help thinking that,were he born French or British, how much easier it would be for him to make others believe he was an interesting and intelligent person, because he would have had better stereotypes to work with in dealing with them, since Europeans are supposed to be cultured and sophisticated, unlike Americans.

As an American, Benjamin was supposed to be rude and stupid. He admitted that there certainly were rude and stupid Americans, whom even he looked down on. But Benjamin certainly wanted to make the point that not all Americans are rude and stupid, and there were also plenty of polite and smart ones, like him, to say the least. So, for him, the phrase, “You are so American” became the worst insult he could get, and he hated every syllable of it. It felt unfair, because it was such an easy comment to make, it also wiped out all of his efforts at being a true gentleman, and, worst of all, Benjamin couldn’t even argue about it, because he was an American.

“What about you,” he heard Spring asking, “where are you from?”
He flashed a charming wink, “Everywhere.”

She giggled at his answer, “Interesting!”  In fact, she couldn’t care less.

He knew very well his “everywhere” would work on a girl: it was cute, indicated an atmosphere of adventure and mystery, and girls liked that.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

She nodded her head, “Dirty Martini,” eagerly accepting his offer.

When Benjamin came back from the bar with two dirty Martinis in hands, he found Spring had another companion by her side, a stout man in his 40s, with red skin and dirty brown hair.  When he came up to her, she introduced them to each other, “ Benjamin, this is David.”

They simultaneously said, “Hey”, and nodded greetings.

“Where are you from?” David spoke in a drawl, coming from through his nose than his mouth.

Benjamin understood his cute “everywhere” answer wouldn’t do here, as it would be too obvious that he was trying to avoid something. So, he replied, “The States. You?”

“Australia.”

Benjamin gave a slight sigh of relief inside his head. Thank God, it was Australia,  as Australians were regarded as equally rude, if not ruder, and crude as Americans.

.
Just then, a third man came up to this little group. He had dark hair and a slightly-snarled face, somewhat like a half-ironed walnut; but also looked stylish in his well-fitted suit, with a bright-yellow-colored dress shirt, and an aura of better-than-anyone-else.

He greeted Spring with a “Buona Sera, Bella!!!,” threw up his hands dramatically and hugged her like a bear crushing a frightened bird. Then, he turned to David and slapped him on the back, “Hey, buddy. It’s been a long time. How is everything?”  Finally, he noticed Benjamin.

“Benjamin,” Benjamin reached forth his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you! Donato. Donato Barboni.” He spoke in the romantic, singing tones of the unmistakeable Italian accent, “Where are you from?”

A bit self-consciously, “The States,” Benjamin replied in a muffled voice.
“Oh…”, Donato smiled, “the U.S.”

“Was it a smirk?”, Benjamin thought to himself.

Evidently, Spring, David, and Donato already knew each other, so they naturally went into their catching-up ritual.

Donato came first, and started briefing what was new with him, with his plans to import Italian wine to Shanghai. He was very excited about this idea, and soon began counting the restaurants he planned to contact one by one, Da Marco, Issimo, Gennaro…
“Wine is so hot here right now, and it’s continually getting hotter. I’m also thinking about organizing a wine tour in Italy next year,” and his voice rose with excitement.

Armed with the spirit of self-advertising, Benjamin realized here was the place to jump in to make the point that he was more than an average American, and was, in fact, a man of culture, “That’s interesting. At least it will give Chinese more to taste and talk about than Chateau Lafite and Great Wall.”

He was happy with what he came up with, because it showed his knowledge of the current trends in food and drink, and what tickled Chinese consumers,too.

Benjamin further amplified his statement’s effect, by rambling on, with utmost enthusiasm, about how Chinese nouveau-riche are obsessed with big names in the wine world, without really caring about the taste of the actual product, the rising price of Bordeaux wines, French culture, New Orleans, Jazz, Hip-Hop, the Taiwanese rap singer Jay Chou, the differences between the Chinese and Latin writing systems, the differences between simplified Chinese characters and traditional ones, the lack of “R”  and “Sh” sounds in Japanese, the difficulties of understanding Japanese-speakers’ accents when they speak English, how Koreans ended up with a bad reputation among their neighbors due to their claims to inventing all of the great Asian cultures, Korean barbecue, Turkish kebab, Egypt and Africa, the latter’s many wars and resources, and, finally, back to China.

All of those words and topics flew out of his mouth like a stream of lotuses, with a lovely, smooth and delicate rhythm. When he uttered the last period of his last statement on them, the other three persons around him all appeared mesmerized and stupefied.

“What were we talking about at the first place?”, they all wondered in their bewilderment.

“Was it one of my never-go-anywhere-but-good-for-a-little-talk business ideas?,” Donato recalled vaguely to himself.

“Jeez, this guy is a talker!”,  the vanquished David thought, while guzzling down his beer, which was already getting warm during Benjamin’s world-tour speech.

Overwhelmed, Spring gazed at Benjamin admiringly, “Wow, there are so many things about China he knows that  I don’t even know. What a great mind he has! And,” with a  beam spreading over her pinkish face, “what a great body he has too!”

There was a prolonged vacant pause among the four-some following Benjamin’s speech,  as if all of the available topics had been exploited that night, and now there was only awkward silence left for them to enjoy.

Benjamin again bravely stepped in, opening his mouth, “You know…”

Before Benjamin finished his first sentence, David jumped up, “Oh, excuse me, I have to go to say hello to an old friend,” and vaguely pointed at the bar area, before hurrying away like a kid escaping from his principal’s lecture.

.“Ah, I just remember I need to get up early tomorrow.”, Donato spoke as he made up his excuse.

“You do? It’s Sunday tomorrow,” asked Spring.

“Yeah, yeah, you know, the wine thing, the thing I was talking about,” he stammered, “I need to get up early to get to that, the wine thing.”

The three of them exchanged cordial farewells, and Donato left.

Now only Spring and Benjamin remained

“Do you need to get up early tomorrow, too?”, Benjamin asked Spring.

She shook her head.

“Do you want to watch a DVD with me?”, Benjamin asked her, throwing just a little sexual intonation into his voice to add to his triumph.

Spring nodded her head vigorously.

* * *

“Come on in.” Benjamin said, as he opened the door of his apartment. When it was shut, Spring turned her face towards him and looked into his eyes with much tenderness. He pressed her closer to him and gently pressed his lips on her eyelids, then on her little nose. But before his lips moved onto hers, she said in a flattering tone, “You are so American, rule them all.”

Ever on the alert, Benjamin froze still, “What do you mean?!”

“I mean you are the man of the men, the ruler of them all…”

“No, the one you said before that,”the smile had gone off his face.

“Before that?” she thought for a second. “The men I’ve dated?”

“No, the one after that.”

“You are an American?”

“Yes, right there! You said I am so American.”

“You are! You are American, aren’t you?”. Spring was innocently confused.

“I am. But when people say, ‘You are so American,’ they mean something else.”

“What something else?”, she asked, genuinely unsure, then added to clear things up, “I love Americans, they are macho and tough, I love that in a man,” and leaned in to him, tipsily and flirtatiously.

“Oh, no, no! Now, you are humoring me,” as Benjamin held Spring by the arms and pushed her away a little.

“You just told me you have dated men from other countries. If you mean what you just said, I want you to be more specific, I want you to write down the pros and cons of Americans point by point. I want you to prove to me I am the best, the most interesting, the most macho of them all.”

“Now?” she asked in the midst of intoxicated and dizzy air, “It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

“Yes. Now.” He was determined.

“I thought you wanted to…”, she rolled her eyes, “…watch a DVD.”

“Yes, that too. But this is important! Important to me!”.  To explain himself better, Benjamin went on, “Just think about this, if I had a Japanese girlfriend before, don’t you want to know who I prefer, you or that Japanese girl?”

“You had a Japanese girlfriend?”, she became curious.

“It’s a hypothesis.”

Without understanding him, she followed her own thoughts, “Where did you meet the Japanese girl? Japanese, they seldom mingle with other expats here.”

“No. It’s a hypothesis. It’s not real. What I am trying to say is in a similar circumstance, you’d be just like me.  Race envy and rivalry are deep inside us, every one of us.”

Spring studied his eyes for a long while, then finally said, “Did you just say girlfriend? You want a serious relationship between us? I thought this is a one-night thing,” she was almost moved.

“No, no, no. You’re not getting the point here. I am not talking about us. I am talking about me. I didn’t say anything about us being boyfriend-girlfriend. This is a one-night thing.”

She widened her eyes, looking hurt, as there is always something that is better left unsaid, even though everyone knows the truth.

Benjamin couldn’t believe he had been talked into a corner by this girl. Or, was it only by himself?

“You know, you are so not like the Americans I’ve ever known,” she tilted her head backwards.

Right then, he felt all of his night’s long work had paid off, and a deep relief and contentment welled up from the bottom of his heart.

Spring stood up straight  and declared, “You are so sensitive and…”, searching hard for the right word from her limited vocabulary,  until she finally found it, “weird.”

She then opened the door herself and stomped out of Benjamin’s apartment without looking back.

After Benjamin shut the door, he leaned against it, like waking from a dream, and, for the first time that night, asked himself, “Didn’t I go out to get a girl in the first place?”

“Well,” quickly brushing this fuzzy thought aside, “at least I am so not like the Americans she has ever known,” and the corners of his mouth began to curl up with self-assurance.
A charming smile hovering about his lips was reflected on the mirror hanging by the doorside. Benjamin was unspeakably satisfied with himself.

 

Author Biography

Ginger is a female writer; wRong is an incorrect writer; Chen is a Chinese writer.Ginger+wRong+Chen is a female incorrect Chinese writer, who manipulates the art of storytelling into short stories, film and TV scripts.

Renee Reynolds – Groupthink – on America

September 14th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

Satellite American

Satellite American
Part I

 

I was early but he was ready for me so I went in right away. The shadows had grown long by then. Golden light came in through the window and softened the deep lines of his face. Consoler. Counselor. Same roots maybe? The room was dim and yellow. Of care, of wisdom. Much nicer now than when I’d seen him before. Three forty-two when I turned off my phone.

He asked me a bunch of expected particulars but I didn’t mind. With each question came a space. He waited well and I was unusually honest. Even my hands were somehow truer. I suddenly wanted to tell him everything. Much more than what he was asking. Never felt quite like that before, a kid lost, lucky to be found this way and not another.

So I did. I told him everything. For the moment. All that could be true. All of the things that he wanted to hear and I wanted to say. Seemed like he’d stopped listening right away, right after the information part but dunno for sure. I wasn’t even listening to my self. I was watching him. His eyes, his hands, his pen, and then his eyes again when it stopped, the pen. After each uh-uh, my arm fell into my lap like a do-over. My voice seemed to be the only thing moving in the room, and then it was an hour later.

We scheduled for the same next week. I’ll look forward to it, I said, and I meant it.

Each day before it, something I had said that first day would roll back onto me. Especially the things that made him laugh or move his eyebrows, especially the ones that made him stop, look right into my eyes and part his lips.

Next week, not wanting to come off too eager, I went in right on time. I even faked being rushed. I fell fast into the big brown chair and his smile was warm. Call me Parker, he said, so I did.

The room was darker. The blinds mostly closed this time. He started in quickly about something I’d said the time before. All unexpected — nothing that had echoed during the week, nothing I wanted to talk about. He pressed a little and I looked away, at the floor, at the slices of light behind him and then, finally at my hands.

–Are you ok?

–Yeah I’m fine.

The first lie.

–You’re quiet today.

–I don’t want to talk about that stuff.

–Is there something you do want to talk about?

–Not really.

The second lie.

–Would you prefer to re-schedule?

I might have won with a ‘yes’ here but it’d be the third lie and I didn’t want that. Wasn’t sure what yet, but not that. I think I let go right then cuz the stream started. I’m just talking. There was that space again and I was filling it. It was not just emptiness, it was also safe and inviting, a room full of ok-ness.

I must have gone on this way and that about all kinds of things and I could see eventually that he was not getting me. I liked that he showed me that. That he was perplexed. A liar, if he was one, good at seeming genuine. But I couldn’t tell just yet, that’s how good he was. I like this in a person. Not cutthroat-honest and not totally cool as a cucumber all the time but somewhere in between. I figured that he was above me. I was beyond nervous and I could not. stop. talking. The space he was making was too big for me. I’d never fill it. Like running across a desert you know is going to dry you up. My sarcasm, my deflection, none of it would fly here.

–I want to study rhetoric, I said suddenly, surprising myself too.

He smiled as though proud of me. I’d pleased him with that, and that pleased me, but I didn’t know how to follow that act. It wasn’t an act to follow, it wasn’t an act, it was realizing about the desert.

A long pause and then I looked at my phone – four-twenty-five only. A thought whispered across my brain like a tiny crab … terrible to want so much and not know what it is. I could read him after all. No way could I tell him that so I said:

–Can we do something else?

–What do you suggest?

–You play má jiàng?

–You’re funny, he said, not laughing.

I started telling him all about Pan Pan, a neighbor friend. She lives in the building but she’s actually Moms’ friend. I barely know the woman. Its weird though because my Chinese is way better than Moms’, naturally, but Pan Pan doesn’t seem to know or care. Once, in our kitchen, she was on her mobile while Moms was making tea explaining about her husband, that they’d met at the fake-marriage market, he’s loaded, and totally tongzhi, gay. Just needs a tongqi, a homowife, and she gets a big apartment, a nicer car and a monthly allowance, and don’t worry, the laowai lady is married with kids, always busy. And, she can’t wait to see the person when the person comes to town.

I don’t always know why I’m such an ass to my parents, so jaded, in front of their friends and when it’s really inconvenient, I told Parker then, but that this might have something to do with it.

His pen stopped. I’d lost him again. His face told me that he didn’t even know what to do. Was it a mirage or was this desert smaller all of a sudden? Now I was on top and he was struggling so I threw him bone:

–Sorry, I thought perhaps Moms had told you about the outburst.

–Which one was that?

–You’re funny too.

I’d finally made him laugh. Of course she’d told him! And then I spelled it out.

–I get it most of the time. I understand what’s going on all around us and they don’t. Not because I’m so smart but because I’m from here and they’re not. Its not just a language thing either, its even when no one says anything. They look at me like, what does that mean? What now? And I explain to their blank faces what has gone unsaid. I’m American but only sort of. Satellite American.

–I see, he said but he didn’t, and he wouldn’t.

–Where are you from?

–Ohio, he said, shifting in his chair and moving his eyes to just above my head.

He reached for his desk drawer the way gangsters get their guns in the movies and a book popped out like pez. The cover had a person from behind, sitting on a cliff overlooking an ocean. The person was very alone and very high up. I was going to make a crack. I was going to say, O goodie, a guide to suicide! But I saved it. The real title was “Recalibrating Dynamics”. His name was in puffy gold at the bottom and the biggest thing on there: Parker J. White, Psy.D.

No more talking about anything else today. The hour was up. He didn’t have to say it, only look there again, where he’d hung his wall clock, for good reason.

Satellite American
Part II

–Where truth is a balancing act, said aunt Genie, she’s a tightrope walker — shards of a person but not from falls, from never coming down.

I’ve personally met a string of accomplices, all guilty of her slow self-murder. Meet Gwen, aka, Moms. Easy to play as long as the instrument she’s handed you can be recognized. Her trick is to switch them out when you’re not looking. Imagine, you are playing the saxophone, you pause for a breath and then it’s a tambourine, an accordion, the triangle. Few non-family ever register this about her. I’m better at it than Dad but only since this year.

Through the swamp of a family dining experience I’ll see Dad’s jelly-eyes quivering, a rescue plea. Use to be that protocol was to send aid right away but I’m a big girl now.

The day Dad discovered our new arrangement went something like this:

It was already an odd morning cuz us three were actually in the same service apartment, at the same time, sharing a space called the kitchen, and then Dad goes, Mrs. Chen says your attendance has been sporadic—

–I’ve been writing poetry instead!

I screamed it before the pepper hit their Bloody Marys.

–Wanna hear?

–Of course honey, said moms, a bit startled in her hangover.

I stood up, cleared my throat and faked a nervous but my eyes stayed on Dad’s cuz this was not to be missed:

–She was so Chinese, that she was Mexican.

Ice jiggled. It had hit him.

–What could that possibly mean?

He took a big, long, pissed-off pull from his cold tomato soup.

–It’s too lateral for you
–So is your taste in women

His face. From impatient to total meltdown in like a millisecond. I went interrogation beatnik for the last lines.

–Tonight, we hunt.
–You Skeez You!

This was no poem I’d penned. This was texting with Clubbing Dave he’d neglected to delete. Oops!

Moms was great. She gave me the obligatory support – you’re a poet, what a surprise, let’s develop that. I played into this crap and Dad shut the fuck up that’s what. And then he bolted in some kinda bullshit hurry of course.

When I told the story in session, Parker cracked up. I was laughing too and he went, Haha, what a fool! I was like, Yeah totally! But then the room turned horrible. I didn’t see it coming, a clamp on the back of my throat. Worst feeling ever and by my own hand.

The last laugh would not stay in the family. Parker went back to America, and then Moms and Dad, Ayi and even Fei Yue, our driver, were all gonna be out of town for six days. I’d spend the end of the semester, final exam week, alone.

–I’m sorry, said Ayi to my super sad face.

Moms was nodding yes behind her and saying, can’t be helped hun…

By the next day I didn’t care anymore. Smoothed over by the old bilateral kitchen table note and cash-pile:

“Morning Honey, fridge is stocked and this is your taxi money. Do well on those exams and there will be a BIG hong bao for you when we get back. Good Luck! Love, Mom & Dad

P.S. Emergency numbers on Dad’s desk!”

I would not be leaving these pajamas today and I’ll be turning the taxi money into entertainment. Oh Yes. And if Moms had something to say about it later I’d go, couldn’t be helped. You know how that is right?

In Dad’s robe and Moms’ slippers I mixed up a nice big stiff one and shuffled down to the lobby DVD cart. My stack was getting high when I spied it. A box of TV with the Shanghai skyline on it.

“SATeLLitE AmERIkA.” It said.

I put down the stack and paid for the box.

I was like, whatthefuck? Had this wriggled into my brain long ago all stealthy and I’m thinking that I had coined the term but not really? That was creepy but the truth was creepier.

In the elevator I read the back: “Meet Jax, an American teenager in Shanghai…Growing up in… SATeLLitE AmERIkA.”

The pilot went in and I pushed play.

Once, I was home alone after school and hungry. A can of pears I wanted but didn’t know how to use the electric can opener. So I started to use a steak knife and BLAM! Right through my hand, right through the fleshy web between my thumb and index. It was stunning. I mean, I was stunned. I yanked it out RAMBO-style and tossed it, throwing my blood like paint across the white bathroom. I left this world for a shocked place on the floor. That’s the only time that compares to this day.

One disc after the other was watched without pause. My breathing changed the rate of all life. It all blurred together. A blink later it was dusk. With each scene Parker’s use for me played out right in front of me on our humongous flat screen. There they were, my lies, uncoiling and slithering into fiction.

There was a Pan Pan but her named was Ming Ming. She was the friend of the Moms character and my secret best friend in the building. There was a drunk Moms and a derelict Derek the Dad. There was some crazy CGI one for my falling-off face dream. And then there was an episode called ‘Recalibration’ where Moms visits the Counselor, Patrick, to talk about her troubled Jax. One commercial-break later and they’re doing it right on his desk, with the blinds closed, below the clock, heaving. Next scene, they’re naked and glistening in a well-lit, gym-sculpted, post-coitus embrace where they jeer about the hour being up, about how his four-o-clock is Jax and due to show any minute and its not what he meant by ‘recalibrate your dynamic with your daughter’. I mean, holyfuckingshit, right? Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Seriously, who the fuck?

Low and behold, he indeed had more than one Omnipedia page — one as Dr. Parker J. White, Psychologist (the one I knew) and one as Parker White, Writer/Director. I wanted to find him and slap him. More than that though, to find him, shake his hand and say, Mr. White, Congratulations, damn good show.

The me was the truest to life there was. When her face filled the screen and her hands moved to the music to tell the stories I was literally beside myself. I gripped the belt of Dad’s robe with the nerves of my kin. There was no emergency number for this. When it was over I was nowhere.

 

Author Biography:

Renée Reynolds grew up in Chicago and Los Angeles. She currently works as a freelance writer in Shanghai, where she has lived since 2007. Contact: renrey2010@gmail.com

Mark Talacko – Groupthink – America

September 14th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

 Wings

Howdy-do, Buckaroo.

Things are grand in the heart of this living empire.

The buildings shine white and grass grows thick on the
bones of decaying armies.

Statues and monoliths weather the elements to bring hope and ensure the ideas that
bind the Empire are not lost and forgotten.

At DuPont circle, a man walks assuredly around the fountain for hours on end, laughing to himself and bursting into tears.

At I and 15th, two men of the law chat amiably at a red
light, thick coronas smoking in their left hands, while
their right hands rest firmly on the throttle of their motorized steeds.

In the trunk of the car behind them, the
body of a young girl decomposes.

A man, his vesture immaculately tailored, ascends from
the metro and enters a mirrored hive. He passes the
outstretched palm of a woman, dirty and deep-lined with years.

A group of school children follow their teacher up the
capitol steps, as waves of Latvians, Chinese, Hondurans,
Israelis, Russians, Samoans, Argentineans, Cambodians,
Uzbekistanis, Moroccans, Mexicans, Pakistanis, Kenyans,
Namibians, Germans, British, Venezuelans, French,
Laotians, Jamaicans, Columbians, Egyptians, Senegalese,
Tongans, Canadians, Koreans, Vietnamese, Iranians, Swedes
and the Dutch race by with their cameras and swelled imaginations.

A man sits quietly by the reflecting pool whittling an inchoate form from a piece of cherry wood with a buffalo bone handle knife.

He observes a group of fattened senators slap each other on the back in necessary camaraderie.

The children reach the top of the steps – their shuffling
feet so small and tender – and turn to face the stretch of the
Mall.

The teacher delivers a propagated speech that
brings tears to the eye of a veteran ambling by as the
children stare in wonder at the grass, so strong and
green, while their young fingers and noses twitch with
electricity.

The teacher lets them breathe the Empire in. And then
herds them into the Capitol with a great sense of pride
and accomplishment in a duty well done.

One little girl lags behind.

She steps out of the swarm of her classmates
and takes a seat on the steps.

She observes the scene for herself.

Her young mind, free from the loudspeaker of her
teacher’s voice, begins to hum, fusing the words of her
teacher and its own experiences together to form
questions and knowledge.

Her eyes wander down from the copper back of Grant and
his horse to meet those of the whittling man.

He returns her stare. His eyes are deep and piercing.

She is scared.

Her mind flashes battle cries, feathers and bare-chested
warriors with whizzing tomahawks; taut bows and sharp
daggers between teeth. Words spring from books read and
things heard. Images glow from things seen through
projected eyes.
She should flee and join her class but her fear is checked by his smile. It draws her.

She walks down the steps to him, her mind moving into new realms and planes, recording and connecting.

“Hi,” he says crouching down to her level as she timidly approaches him.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“My name is John,” he pauses. “What’s your name?”

“Susie,” she says, a little louder than before, but dropping her eyes to his shoes.

“Hi, Susie. Are you having a good time in Washington?”

“Yes.” She looks up at him.

He smiles warmly.

She feels the tension leave her body. She smiles warmly in return.

“Are you learning a lot?”

“Uh-hmm,” she nods.

“Do you like learning?”

“Uh-hmm,” she nods again.

“That’s good, Susie. You remember to always keep your mind open and learn, OK?”

“OK,” she smiles.

She bounces on her toes, and looks around her, “Um…are you an In’jun?”

John smiles. His deep eyes twinkle.

“Yes,” he says in a voice filled with laughter. Susie relaxes.

“I thought In’juns were bad,” Susie says. Her eyes look askingly at John’s.

“Well, there are bad Indians, just like there’s bad every bodies. And there’s good Indians, just like there’s good every bodies. Have you noticed?”

“Uh-hmm,” Susie nods her head. “There’s this boy who always pulls my hair when we have tests,” she says quickly, surprised at her own voice.

“And you think he’s bad?”

Susie nods her head.

“And are there any good kids in your school? Your friends?”

Susie beams, “Kim’s my best friend. She always gives me her apple sauce at lunch because she doesn’t like it.”

“That’s a good friend,” John smiles.

“You’re a good In’jun, right?”

“What do you think, Susie?”

“Ya. I think so. You’re nice.”

Susie smiles at him with her eyes.

“Thank you, Susie.”

“SUSIE?” The teacher’s worried voice booms from the capitol steps, “SUUUUSIE!”
.
Susie whips her head around and waves to her teacher. Her teacher spots her.

“Get up here young lady,” she shouts, her left hand motioning angrily up the steps, while her right hand remains planted firmly on her hip. The people turn to watch.

“I gotta go,” Susie says, standing in place.

“I hope I didn’t get you in any trouble.”

“No. Ms.Washington is always yelling.”

“Is she bad, Susie?”

“I don’t think so. She lets us have class outside on nice days.”

“That’s nice.”

A silence lingers in the air.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Susie.”

“You too.”

“SUSIE! Get up here now!” Ms. Washington yells.

“‘Bye,” Susie says, turning to run.

“Wait Susie.”

She stops and turns back around.

“Here you go.”

John gently takes Susie’s hands and places the whittling work into them.

“Now, scoot along, before your teacher gets really mad,” he says, pushing her softly away.

“Thanks,” she says and moves off slowly.

“Remember, you learn something new every day, OK?” he calls after her.

“SUSIE CUSTARD! GET UP HERE RIGHT NOW!”

“I will,” she says over her shoulder, and races up the steps.

“Don’t you ever get away from the class like that again,
do you hear me? The whole group has had to wait because
of you. Who was that man? What did he say to you? Who was
he, hmm?” Ms. Washington rattles on breathlessly.

“That was john. He was nice.”

Susie smiles at the angry Ms. Washington.

“He told me to learn every day,” Susie says, hiding the whittling in her hands against her belly.

“Well, that’s good,” Ms. Washington pauses, somewhat
confused. “Come on. We’re all waiting,” she says, the
anger gone from her voice.

Susie turns to John and waves.

John waves back.

Ms. Washington hesitantly raises her arm to give a wavering salute.

“Come on Susie,” Ms. Washington says, and she turns, pushing Susie gently in front of her to rejoin her class.

As they walk deeper into the Capitol, under its arching columns and balustrades, Susie opens her hands to see what John gave her. In her soft, pink palms rests a magnificent eagle with a broken wing.

Author Biography
A father and husband

A writer
Born
Living
Procreating in the physical and mental realms
Betting on infinity with ink and sperm


Katrina Hamlin – Groupthink – America

September 14th, 2011 § 3 comments § permalink

The Beautiful Country
(originally published at Haliterature.)

My name is Xiao Yu. I am nineteen.

I have eaten KFC fried chicken and onion rings, washed down with milk tea. Then I ate a doughnut, which is an incomplete cake with a hole in the middle.

I have heard rap, which is when you have a song but you don’t sing. I can do that at the KTV.

I have seen their TV show series, which are about real life, but with shiny teeth and hair and perfect love.

So I already knew quite a lot about the Beautiful Country when I met my first Beautiful Person.

The Beautiful Person, whose name was Sam, was still in some way not what I expected.

He was quite shiny in his teeth and hair, and his clothes were Famous Brand clothes. He said he sometimes liked a doughnut, and no, he was not upset that there is a hole in the middle. But he did not eat chicken burger because meat, because he felt sad for the chicken birds, and he said milk tea was maybe more English like British English.

He could rap or sing, and he did not speak like Wu Tang Klan, which was a pity, and many of my friends felt he was boring at KTV. He also said whisky and green tea made him sick. Then it did make him sick.

It was after the sick night, when we found he could drink beer ok, that I really came to know the Beautiful Country better than any of my friends because the Tsingdao helps him to speak more true.

Because we were talking about why he must leave the Beautiful Country and come to the Middle Kingdom, why the Middle Kingdom is ok. I said I thought he must like the bright lights, tall buildings, very modern technology places like Pudong.

He said he was a little sorry, but no, it was not for the development of our country that he came. It was more negative choice, because there was nothing for him in the Beautiful Country.

I asked him more about this, and told him to remember the famous brands and the television series. He said this is not really the Beautiful Country. But anyway, he said he meant more no girl friend, no job, no money. He was looking sad.

I told him clearly he can find these things in Shanghai, I could help him. So this is no problem, and he should not worry.

I said this because I wanted him to shut up about these easy to fix things, which made me boring to listen, to ask him about these not-Beautiful Beautiful things, the Famous Brands and KFC and etc.

So he explained that actually really life in the Beautiful Country is not always perfect and rich although people have very white teeth. He also explained that the KFC in the Beautiful Country does not sell the fried pumpkin cakes like they have here, which I think are much better than doughnuts since they have no hole in the middle when you buy them.

This and the Tsingdao, which actually I have not drunk so much of before, all this allowed me to see things much more clear. I told him he could live forever much more happy in Pudong, where I will help him to find a girlfriend and a job and a money, and also live in a very modern tall buildling with flashing lights.

He said thank you.

I said no need to thank me.

I said good night.

I will meet him again tomorrow.

The End.

Author Biography

Katrina Hamlin is a journalist and writer living and working in Shanghai. Originally from Hong Kong, she has also lived in England and Chengdu, China. Katrina’s articles and stories appear in Shanghai-based HAL publications’ books and website,  Chengdu-based MALA literary journal, the Curious Ant and ThinkSix web projects, and Shanghai Business Review magazine, which she edits.

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