Musings on the life of Cambodian Jungle Girl
The discovery of Rochom P’ngieng has me thinking: what would it be like to live in societal isolation for 19 years? In this era of connectivity, we tend to forget those who are not plugged in, which is still most of the people on earth. But then you consider going the step further, those who aren’t plugged into much of anything, without peers, roaming in remaining isolated territories, dwelling in the zone of ‘homo sapien instinct’. Or those who live among us but go ignored - the brilliant Henry Darger comes to mind, people who live in a world of their own neurosis and memories, creating elaborate fantasy realms either for profit or simply their own sake.
What more can you say? Though I hope somehow her story can further be told, either by her own hand, after she relearns to communicate, or via some biographer. It is interesting that an individual after being reassimilated, would decide ‘fuck ya’ll, I’m heading back out into the jungle on my own…’
Beautiful line of thought, the escape from media. We are saturated. So the possibilities are increased that we will strike a chord with some subculture. But having to rifle through the high velocity techno-trash is soul crushing. I can see writers distancing themselves and continuing to live simply. But their avid consumers, aren’t they doomed to soul-lessness?
This quote is vaguely relevant to the story, from ‘After Babel’ by George Steiner:
“We flinch from the immediate pressures of mystery in acts of creation as we do from the realization of our diminished humanity, of all that is literally bestial in the murderousness and gadgetry of this age. Like sleepwalkers, we are guarded by the numbing drone of entertainment from the often harsh, imperious radiance of sheer presence.”
I adore the bestial gadgets that enslave me.
Irony tops earnest dude once again. I’m gonna go home and listen to The Dicks.
Cheap, but effective. I thought the world was post-irony anyway?