of course if i were an actual monk, i would have access to the infrastructure and financial support of some religious institution. the books i would be transcribing would be well-cared-for and sheltered behind brick and mortar.
needless to say, i am not a monk. i grew up in front of the television, watching ducktales and playing excitebike and dragon warrior. i went to elementary school and got punched in the stomach and walked home crying. like, daily. (that’s an exaggeration.)
sometimes i used to wish i was a monk. or maybe i just wished to belong to a culture other than my own. or maybe just to belong. i mean, it’s not like i never got laid. i did, and that helped. and eventually some kind folks took me in, and treated me kindly. but was it because they recognized a fellow freak? or was it just that my freakishness was useful to them? for a while? who knows.
no i’m not a monk. most likely i’ll never be a monk. because i have to pay the rent, and i have responsibilities to my family, and my community. and my culture. and i can’t just run away. though i do think about it. like, daily.
so here i sit in the modern police surveillance state. still. afraid to speak truth to power, now. afraid to express my true self, but fighting like hell to do so. it’s funny how a little veiled threat against your life can shut a person up real quick. but not funny ha-ha. funny sad.