yes dear father

greetings,

i was busy playing my new and improved hyper passive-aggressive violent video game about a country that's been divided and at war since 1955. the south part is rich. the north is poor. they rely on Big Brother for money and food and stuff like chopsticks. someone called. your father wants to see you. now.

his office is a big office. so big in fact you need to take a golf cart from the door, across the shiny diamond inlaid mosaic floor past 1.5 million bowing palace people to reach his desk. his desk is made of recycled high grade uraninum 235. it glows in the dark. this is amazing because few if any buildings have electricity.

my bored aunt and uncle reclined in plush mauve leather chairs. they were watching the dynasty soap opera.

son, he said, sit down. that's an order.

yes father dear, oh great leader of the people. cut the crap son, we have important matters to preview. as you know the party congress circus is in town for the big show. feeding five million people at a state dinner gives me a nuclear headache. the fission potential is a beautiful mess.

yes, i said, i saw them getting off the special train and walking through the reception hall like robots. it was amazing. they were all wearing the same ill fitting suits and carrying a black briefcase. it reminded me of matrix. or the day the earth stood still.

they were marching toward the toilet. 

yes son, everyone marches to the beat of my drum solo.

a servant approached with myopic glasses of bubbly on a silver tray.

son, i propose a toast. today is the day i make you a four-star general. i created you 27 years ago and today i make you famous and powerful. you are a rising star in our isolated universe. you are like me. you have demonstrated the personality, the drive, the ambition, the arrogance and the ruthless qualities i respect and admire in a human being. so, you get to be a general. drink up!

wow, thanks dad. what do i have to do? smile, shake hands, tell people what to do and pretend to be exactly who you are. in control. image is everything.

metta.

full moon

on star map pro the moon is full

in your blind soft eyes
white bone craters rise at 17:50
inside the Pegasus constellation or consternation 
magnitude of -12.1

no atmosphere 
breathe deep
perfect fall weather 116C to -203C 
bring a jacket
a finger points at the moon

blind

once upon a time in a place
with dark mysterious scared eyes
sharp knives
and no money
poor lost blind people
from a poor lost blind village
came to a poor lost blind town
carrying their curiosity 
empty stomachs
empty pockets
and cheerful childlike stolidity 
ignorance
inside teeming markets 
spilling vegetables, clothing, steaming food
invisible naked predatory children circle, hover near smells

watching eaters eat
the quick and dead

blind people laugh
hearing gold workers hammer
ruby, diamond, sapphire, emerald jewels

scattering gem sound seeds

 

Death wish

Greetings,

Speaking of a driving school, educational malaise and general laconic ironic bubonic atomic plagues, here we are. In paradise.

The public's death wish is prevalent, precarious, precocious and precious. You see it, taste it, hear it, smell it and touch it. In other words you feel it. Fear cannot mask, hide, avoid, escape, deter, ignore, deny, lie, or try to fly. It is an integral essential element in the genetic strain, a strained well trained artificial injection of reality.

Paradise is the perfect place to pretend you are a crazy English teacher.

"Feed me," yell the adults and children. "Give me the fish. Push me through the system. I secrete sadness."

"Sorry, you need to learn, understand and comprehend the value of learning how to feed, educate and care for yourself and others in your community."

"Are you a lunatic? For decades, for generations we've had foreigners (NGOs) giving us money, medicine, education, food, condoms, handouts, free stuff.

"There's no way we (the majority) are going to begin accepting responsibility for our country, our people, our lives."

"Have it your way. Here's a free ticket to the new entertainment toys."

"Wow! Thanks."

Metta.

Drive

Greetings,

Welcome to the Famous Cambodian Driving School. (FCDS) Our slogan is Drive Fast, No Fear.

We are here to initiate you into the wild wonderful crazy world of driving. We do not have insurance. We don't believe in wearing seat belts because they are expensive. Do not let these minor details influence your decision to take risks. You will be issued a helmet. Wear it at all times.

Remember: you are in complete Control of a large automobile. It is capable of extraordinary maneuvers. You will have a teacher with you at all times. If they are sleeping it's ok. It's part of their job. 

Ok, let's get down to basics. Cars, especially massive 4-wheel drives, are popular with the rising middle class. A car symbolizes many things: freedom, money, prestige, and power.

As you know there are NO stop sings, traffic blights or silent flashing signals on streets, highways and byways. If you want to achieve big things, like getting where you want to go in a big fat hurry, you must take big risks, especially while operating a car. It's fun and exciting. 

Inside the chanting Buddhist monks at the pagoda you have a gas pedal, brake pedal and horn. The horn is the most important part of the car. It is your way of telling others, if they are awake, you are coming through. You will not be deterred. Your goal is to get through, get by and get going. Hit the horn. Hit the gas. 

Using the brake and singing your intentions is for dummies.

At FCDS we believe practicing on small narrow crowded city streets will introduce you to the fun and excitement of driving. You will negotiate limited space with: thousands of motorcycles, children, women balancing bamboo staves and jumbled baskets of food, orphans, amputees, rolling food carts, bicycles, garbage trucks, tractors, push carts, young teams of boys and girls collecting cardboard, cans, and bottles, fast brown rats disguised as health inspectors and endless processions of chanting monks seeking food, kindness and enlightenment. 

Their enlightenment will be their salvation. The horn is your salvation. 

Tomorrow we will practice on narrow red dusty potholed rural roads. 

Metta.