my mom used to keep all the family passports together, in case of emergencies.
when i turned 17, i had a huge argument and won, and from then on, i kept my own passport.
in my first year of university, i was inspired by Christopher Hitchens, a superior-minded writer
so one sunny Wednesday i took a 1.5 hour bus back to Toronto, then an 1 hour bus to to buffalo border
handed over my passport to suspicious customs agents (this was before i was blacklisted) and then another 9 hour bus to
the Columbia University rotunda lecture hall (forgot the name) to hear him speak, LIVE.
i don’t recall what possessed me at that point, having virtually no US cash on me and not telling a soul in the world…
i also waited in line after his talk…which was at point about the Axis of Evil War on Terrorism…to get his autograph…
there i was, apprenhensive and somewhat timid in my dark purple UWO hoodie and jeans, and all he did was smile and say
“Hi, What’s your name sweetie?”
“Amy”
“What brings you here today, Amy?”
“You..are very inspiring!”
“Thank you!”
And he signed my book…which I had read almost twice on the long subway ride..Love, Poverty, and War: Journeys and Essays
“To Amy, May you always be enlightened. Yours humbly, Christopher”
Yesterday, Christopher Hitchens died of cancer.
No words written can do him justice. Mr. Hitchens, Rest in peace. You will be remembered for your great contributions to mankind’s capacity for thought.
Even though there won’t be thousands of apples and notes like Mr. Jobs; you have done irreplaceable things for this world. Thank you.
Christopher Hitchens—the incomparable critic, masterful rhetorician, fiery wit, and fearless bon vivant—died today at the age of 62. Hitchens was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in the spring of 2010, just after the publication of his memoir, Hitch-22, and began chemotherapy soon after. His matchless prose has appeared in Vanity Fair since 1992, when he was named contributing editor.
I have lived in Hong Kong for the past almost 3 years.
Faced with the stiletto high heels, cutesy mini-skirts, omnipresent fake lashes and multitudes of media telling woman how to be more feminine, more able to allure, more able to attract men;
I remind myself of the time when nothing stood in my way on the path to acquire depth of understanding; when did it falter? when did it fade?
I would like it back… I would like to see my passion for Hitchens’ writing back…
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A friend had tried to make me feel better recently saying how I am smart and I can do ABC task.
I appreciated the slight flattery, but deep down felt a great sense of guilt and treachery.
I’ve met and been schooled with some truly, truly smart people; the ones that will and are in the midst of changing humanity, just like Hitchens.
I can only hope, as I stand on the margin of the vast abyss that is unknown to the majority, that at the bare minimum, I will always understand the messages sent forth by the truly, truly inspiring.
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