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Wednesday
Feb142018

Gratitude

In late 2011 in Vientiane, Laos he finished another revision of A Century is Nothing.

He let it rest. He's tired of it. He's been consistent with it every morning and afternoon.

Doing the work. Polishing is the party.

He feels good about the process.

Stories inside stories.

A work of art is never finished. It is abandoned.

The 2nd edition was published December 2012.

After spraying oil on sprocket and chain he rode Mystery the mountain bike.

Slow.

He discovered a woman with her plastic box sitting in the shade doing nails on a quiet side street.

He gestured scraping callused souls. She smiled and finished another woman.

He soaked feet and hands in water. She scrubbed off dead skin.

It reminded him of murdering his manuscript darlings. She trimmed cuticles and skin with a small silver tool. She wrote him into her story and he wrote her into his. They're are mutually inconclusive.

Love is unconditional.

He is open minded, patient, positive, flexible, and friendly.

She is intuitive and creative with empathy, trust, respect and gratitude.

He paid. They smiled.

He rode away protected by a white butterfly ringing a bell.

Present and empty.

Saturday
Feb102018

Life is a dance

They were mute manifestations of silent inexpressible FEAR.

I was deep in a world of silence.

I appreciate yes.

It was subtle, clear and immediate. I learned valuable lessons.

Slowing down, meditation, awareness, solitude.

Yangon, Burma

Yes, most ignored me. They were too shy, shocked or mute.

Too lazy to take the pencil and scribble their frustration or FEAR.

I appreciate the value of silence now. More so than when I was afflicted. Being pure and radiant.

It is a blessing with gratitude and forgiveness.

A combination of no voice, no hearing is perfect in myriad ways.

It's real freedom.

Freedom is knowing how big your cage is.

Freedom is having no choice.

Freedom from need or a need for freedom.

Humans manifest their loneliness with silent tears.

They project their fear and defense mechanisms on others.

Where is meaning?

Meaning is MIA.

Where is the pure joy in being?

How or why isn't he talking?

Where did his voice go?

It joined other voices waiting for articulation.

There's a big power in speechlessness.

People should talk less and draw more.

Life is a dance.

The dancer and dance are one.

Yangon, Burma

Monday
Feb052018

Short Fast & Deadly

How slow can you go?

Walk at the speed of a camel.

Design charcoal elements of crisp fire

infants scream at talking head women

driving young ones crazy

in out in out

their tongues banging like pistons

on a desultory 125cc engine propelled by virgins

returning home with their unblemished shy dignity intact.

One woman fans skewered buffalo meat to a crisp.

A Lao grandmother cradles an infant. She has diabetes Type II.

Shuddering wedding photos are frozen on a wall. It never turns out like people imagine.

They breed work and get slaughtered.

They trade hands and hearts.

She skewers another hypnotic form of laughter to preserve her ugh ugh conversation.

Fat lost European tourists waddle past.

With an accusatory tone men get smashed on weak beer.

A mechanic hammers one sharp line of description vs mundane observation.

Exile spills midnight blue Mont Blanc ink next to attention deficit disordered humans dancing 10 seconds down dirty.

Write short, fast, deadly.

Ikat silk designs drape well.

Non-listeners living abject cause and effect seek meaning with suffering and loss, accepting no responsibility.

Someone else controls their existence.

Milling Around, a fine art, embraces kindness and compassion. 

Mandalay, Burma

Thursday
Feb012018

Meridian of time

"On the meridian of time there is no injustice

there is only the poetry of motion

creating the illusion of truth and drama." - Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer.

Mandalay, Burma

I am a shaman. A storyteller embraces "what if?"

People chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of their eyes.

Free and easy. No past no future.

A blind man plays strings.

His daughter plays a drum leading him through life.

Music guides their quest. Music is the fuel.

Mindfulness breath ease god out.

Monday
Jan292018

Literary Outlaws

Music is the fuel.

Welcome to Planet Insane Asylum. You are released on your own recognizance.

Create a new world. Ride a bike. Explore. Life is the destination. Warrior attitude.

Understanding by design. UBD.

Your story emerges from nothing. Discover a point of departure a direction.

Only the mad ones sing with the fools.

Events, characters, setting, impressions. Energies and frequencies.

Remember Coco speaking in Fujian, China watching 15,000 university students walk past old village people. "They are all peasants."

Years later the rich Chinese man in Laos served you fresh green Fujian tea at the Luang Prabang guesthouse. "Children are tools," he said. He had two. They arrived in a Raging Rover using GPS.

Discernment with sensitivity.

Engaged by a stimulus. Disengaged from a stimulus.

Truth-Force.

Signal-Noise

High season in Vientiane. Perfect for drawing twilight as scooters mumble putt putt exhausted fear based laughter succumbing to circumstance.

Yoke said a verb is a condition.

Her insight was victorious. Word got back that all but three 8th grade students were caught cheating on their Lao exams. No surprise there. Delight in their sly cunning attitude. Oh, to be human.

Determination chopped ice, shifting passive years, gears and fears into a zonal transparency of blank eyes. Is-land tourists became localized stimuli wandering blank.

It's a meaningful coincidence.

We are literary outlaws.

Explanation is a well dressed mistake.

We connect the dots forward. Play an infinite game of chess.

Checkmate, said Death. I always make the correct move.

Existence precedes essence. Flame your life.