Having lived over 20 odd (sometimes downright bizarre) years in Asia, after bailing on Canada solely for employment opportunities in the field of journalism and editing and discovering a knack of being able to write in several different styles depending on the requirement, and holding numerous jobs to exploit this ability both previously in Canada and then in Vietnam and Thailand and Korea thereafter, I ran into a long sentence (both right now here and) in China. It was there, during a couple sabbaticals from my rote-worthy professorship in the north that I finally pieced together all those passages I had typed up on several crappy desktops in need of constant repair like bad used-car investments that aren’t investments at all, as if anything used is (especially not some of those reformed girls from the hill in Seoul I took a relationship stab at), when on the wagon on Korea,  and added to those multitude of aforementioned, typed-up in Korea passages a wiser and more measured touch and, subsequent to that, went on a writing frenzy on my now-slicker touchscreen (feature I never actually use) Dell to append sexy, but less-sexy revisions and more mature parts-to until finally I had some 400 hundred some pages of what some people including myself just can’t seem to get ourselves to deny is a damnnear modern masterpiece, no matter how many people don’t buy it (in both sense of the word) entitled somewhat eulogistically or trubitingly   "My Little China Girl" (even though I’m more partial to compatriots Young and Cohen, as, yes, I do consider myself totally Canuck despite my long absence from it/there/them).