Further Evidence That the Universe is a Conspiracy for My Benefit


I'm at Javalencia, the same internet cafe I was at yesterday. My to do list includes getting a 24-Hour fitness membership, shopping at Target, and purchasing the right Wi-Fi hardware for my lap-top.

Feeling almost every bit as confused and stressed as yesterday, I pick up The Chronicle. Featured on the front page is a Calvinist preacher, Reverend Billy. I immediately recognize him, the pompadour, the cream colored suit, black shirt, and white collar. I saw him at Burning Man last year. He is an actor/activist who portrays an evangelist and decries the existence of transnational corporations like Starbucks, The Gap, and McDonald's. His message is strong, his choir angelic, and his act very entertaining.

While traveling, Krista and I remembered his message. You see these economies and children of SE Asia and you realize that here in America we sit ontop of the shoulders of every developing nation. Simply stated, we live so good because they live so bad.

The Chronicle reports that yesterday Reverend Billy was in Santa Cruz preaching the good news outside of many stores, one of them being Urban Outfitters:

"What we have here is an insidious case of selling young people on the notion that if they wear something new and trendy they can change the world! Yet some of these 'hip' clothes are made by 15-year-old girls in Sri Lanka!"

Crowd:

Boooo. Hsssss.




I finished reading this article and began contemplating my day, my stressful feelings of being better, more complete by shopping. Why didn't I feel this way while traveling? I was perfectly happy with my backpack -- my home on my back. For six months I despised shopping. I could live without The Gap and Big Macs. I witnessed firsthand how these corporations affect the rest of the world and it made me feel guilty about who I was and where I came from.

Now, look at me. Read about me. I'm worried about -- about -- what I buy?



I put the article down. What occurred next is the closest thing I've ever experienced to a miracle.

A man walked into the coffee shop. His blond hair was fussed up. He looked very familiar.

He ordered a coffee and a tuna sandwich. I watched. I ordered a sandwich also. Then, I got the courage to ask.


"You do theater right?"





"Yes, I do," he replied."




"I really want to thank you for your work."



[check out the article I was reading before he appeared in the coffee shop at www.sfgate.com]