1. Get to New York. It is possibly -8000 degrees. Plus I am half hour late (curse you for being on time, NJ Transit trains, so I must take sad, wheezing bus because I am 2 minutes late).
2. See those coats? Everybody but everybody is wearing their freaking sleeping bags in NYC.
3. Presence of food and husband is somewhat mollifying.
4. Famous scholars start talking about aspects of Buddhism about which I am in a great state of unnowingness. What does he mean about Tantric Buddhism spreading across Asia at approximately 800 of the Common Era? Remember . . . mmm, dukkha? Samsara? Catch word here and there. They all have thick accents. My eyelids grow heavy. So heavy. I am suddenly floating away, so far . . . wait, am I in an auditorium or some sort? This isn’t my bed? Oh yeah, um, dukkha. I remember that word. It means, “anything that sucks to any degree.”
5. Two sets of beautifully dressed monks sing slow chanty songs. I am jealous of their socks. They each sing a couple of songs. It is beautiful. But a whole evening of this would kill me.
6. And now, time for the ladies room, Japanese style (we Americans are sooooooooooo backwards.)
By the way, sorry, I swear I photoedited these pictures and they just came out all wrong or SOMETHING.
Writing Prompt: What was the Last cultural experience which you attended
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