Chapter 319

Woke up well rested at 6:30 and started my day. I had a bit of free time between classes, that I used to grade the remaining exam papers and listen to Clown World news. There’s so much gneetardation happening I don’t even know what to comment upon, or if further comment is needed. The main story that keeps coming up is the climate change conference in Scotland, attended by heads of state lecturing us plebs about our carbon footprint, while those cunts ride around in private jets and eat gold-leaf-covered steak and live lives of opulence.

I went home for lunch. The bird by my apartment building entrance chirped “Ni hao!” at me. I feel bad for him, stuck in his cage like that, but then even if I broke him free, not only that would sadden the elderly man who takes care of him, but he would probably die.

In the afternoon I had a double with the twelfth-graders, and then did a bit of writing, class-prepping and music-listening. I tested my limits with music at the very edge of listenability, even for an extreme metal die-hard like me: Diphenylchloroarsine with overly distorted and ridiculously low-pitched slam/brutal death, and Plebeian Grandstand, in a chaotic noisy post-hardcore vein. Both were somewhat enjoyable, after 5 minutes I felt saturated but kept going and eventually got in some kind of groove, until I got tired of it after 20-30 minutes.

I got home, relaxed, put music in my mp3 player and headed to the gym. I listened to half a song from Hanoi Rocks and decided it’s not for me, so I listened to Sodom. My favorite band has never released a bad album in its 40 years of existence, and their 2013 offering Epitome of Torture showed us all that the power trio still has lead in the pencil. Great violent music to get pumped.

I took the dog out for a spin, and then cooked a pimped out seafood soup and steamed broccoli. I watched some UFC fights, Max Holloway is an absolute legend though he’s only 29, and when it was announced that he’d be fighting Mexican kicking machine Yaír Rodriguez, boners all over the MMA fan world sprouted. The fight delivered masterfully, a display of magnificient violence, in which the Hawaiian took some serious hits but won with his patented ridiculous forward pressure. He’s now the clear number 2 in the featherweight division, way above everyone else but having lost twice to the champ, a scenario that’s being observed in other marquee weight classes (Covington at WW, Zhang at SW). The other fights on the card were also great, notably my fellow Chinese Song Yadong hunting for a knockout and getting it.

I then played a bit of Mount & Blade. Gone are the six-hour sessions, half an hour is enough, I gather my band of mercenaries, go kill some filthy Sassanids and Khergits, and set up camp. I used to be completely addicted to that game but now I barely even think about it.