Cheap Thrills in Turkey - TLC

Editors note: Considering the fake coup in Turkey and massive number of people laid off, arrested and intimidated by the governement's fear tactics this exceprt from The Language Company bears witness.

Creative non-fiction.

Lucky heard dull Turkey talk accept pervasive inherent genetic sadness weighing hearts, minds and futures. Big time. Victimized by fate mothers sang, “Be well darling you can always come home.”

I am thirty+ and still live with my parents, said a male child sitting on the human supply side scale of justice.

Humiliation is obese.

Independence & freedom in Turkey is a foreign concept.

Click your diamond heels together three times. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

Domestic violence is a REAL social problem. Guns will not solve it. Giresun stores are filled and killed with guns. Boys carry them. Men carry them. Women pack them. Kids play with them. Police are everywhere. Visual intimidation with artificial insemination lives breathes and procreates.

Gravediggers love steady unforgiving work. Look at my hands said one turning a shovelful of metaphors and observations. I know two things.

There are no things only facts, said Z and that’s the truth.

Everyone talks at once. No one listens - same as Cambodia, Yeah, yeah with a side order of indigence.

It’s biological DNA malfeasance.

Men constructed an oil platform in Giresun harbor, the cheapest port along the BS. Pump money into economy.

A giant erector set. Takes a month, Derrick. Pull it out to see. Drill. Pump black gold.

Pump me baby. By low sell high. The more you drill the more you bill. ABC.

That explains everything said a female student in Giresun speaking with courage and clarity why stupid immature men would rather spend their money on fancy designer clothes, expensive cell phones and go hungry.

Thread follows needle, said Kairos.

Ah, said Lucky, artificial life. Yes, said Courage dancing with Curious, it’s insecurity, ego and fake visual abundance.

A muttering Giresun man stopped Lucky on the street. Look at my shiny patent leather shoes, crisp shirt and chrome-plated self-winding geodesic dome watch and lambskin leather jacket. See my new 45-caliber automatic. It holds a clip joint of fifteen. The only magazine I read is loaded with armor piercing titanium bullets. Look at my luxurious cell phone. Are you jealous? No? Ok, I am calling my mother.

- Hi mommy dearest, watches for lunch? Did you clean my room with your sad broom? Did you make my favorite manta meal slathered with greasy hazelnuts and wet yogurt? What’s for dessert? Turkish delight? You can’t be serious.

(Mom yaks....)

- Yes, yes, yes, bye mother, yes I love you and I will love you forever and a day. You are my world. Leave a light on. I’ll be later than never.

He turned to Lucky. Want to buy some time mister? Look at this big shiny fake gold watch. See idle hands sweep time. Cheap. For you I make special price. Brings me good luck.

Thanks, said the stranger, I have all the luck I need and your luck is running out faster than a cloud obscures a sundial in the sands of time.

I don’t get it, said Idiot. I am good at two things: eating and sleeping. Whining and juvenile bravado is a close 3rd oh and one more thing, taking Xanax improves my attitude, personality and character disorder. You don’t say, said Lucky.

Men and boys played chicken on narrow steep sidewalks. Non-verbal said, Get out of my fucking way or I will kill you with my cheap 45. Resistance is futile.

Buy the text, yelled educational robots. We eat grammar breakfast, lunch and dinner. We need grammar to pass an examination and get a certificate so we can file for unemployment. We paid for our innate stupidity.

Bend over said Deep State.

That’s an unpleasant fact, said face2face. 

The Language Company

desperation calls

Muesli, fruit, yogurt.

Desperation called 18 times during the day asking, Why, What changed your attitude toward me, How did you arrive at this heart breaking conclusion to release me, to reduce my sense of responsibility and neglect burning ashes of regret?

Calm thought about Desperation's plight.

Release and letting go of passion, desire, and expectations requires a serenity, clear focus, unconditional love.

Everything dies.

All is dancing behind your tears, your questions.

Be still.

Sit with your sensations, perceptions.

Breathe deep in-out.

Her return. Small talk about respect and responsibility.

King Louis Says Bye-bye - TLC 68

King Louis’s temp visa expired. Someone conspired. Who did it? Only the Shadow knows. And then, lo and behold, the tall handsome paranoid excommunicated hulk of a Roman ruin fled.

He gifted two native teachers a used bottle of stomach medicine, an empty pickle jar and a keening Irish green bottle of olive oil.

He carried eight bags of Roman history to his lover’s car. Ms. Linguist, his x-factor for what it was worth considering their short-term tumultuous erotic relationship headed for the auto-gar bus station. Next stop – Instant Bull.

On July 5th management called THE HULK into the office.

“We are not sending you to Moscow.”

He shriveled into his seat. Whoops, I really fucked up big time.

“Yes, you did,” said the Director. “You made life miserable for Bursa staff. Your archaic cavalier chauvinistic attitude was abysmal. In other words you were a colossal jerk.”

“I need to get this down now and make sense of it later,” said Zeynep scribbling a film noir treatment.

Louis thought he was smarter than the average bear. He was Yogi-Fide, denied, stratified, petrified and ossified.

“Anyway,” continued the Director of Barbarians, an obscure title minus power, “you won’t see Moose Cow with this company. There’s no way José we’d even consider sending you to a sister company in the frozen north with your attitude.”

“What’s going to happen to me? O my goodness gracious great balls of fire. Don’t tell me I have to return to the glorious land of unemployed free Mandingo slaves hawking refrigerators, microwaves and washing machines.”

“As you well know you’ve overstayed your tourist visa,” said big D. “This is a legal problem and we can’t help you there. You are in violation of residency laws and will leave today. You will not be allowed to return to Turkey for 3,000 years. We are giving you official notice that your contract with TLC is terminated effective immediately.”

“Great Scott. I had such grandiose plans for conquests and adventures roaming ruins, scaling Byzantium towers and feeding beggars Simit as freezing dawn broke bread while eating delicious black olives, freshly sliced tomatoes, winding my big time watch out and,” pausing for dramatic effect...“I need to get to the verb.”

“You’re fired.”

Charbroiled on searing heat. Skewered. King Louis was flame grilled and basted with spice is-land juice.

 The Language Company

warrior attitude

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

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

He paid.

They smiled.

He left protected by a white butterfly ringing a bell.

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.

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

Mad ones sing with fools.

ugly chinese trash nepal and elsewhere

In a Bhaktapur, Nepal guesthouse it’s dinner time. Five Chinese aliens appear. Two males and three women. They are in their 20’s. They are armed with laptops, cell phones, and loud discursive language. This is normal.

Noise and confusion and interruptions and arrogant attitudes fit their life style. One girl is dressed like a flapper dancer from the roaring 20’s. Daisy Bell talks with her mouth full of rice. Her red diamond tiara squeezes her frontal lobe into a shucked pea. 

They are lucky to have a passport. Their parents are important Red Party Officials. It’s all about connections. They whined their way out of manners and intelligence in public places. They are the new breed of The Ugly Chinese, the lost, terribly frustrated never satisfied in their exported coddled spoiled youth.

They are the new emperors and empresses of a prosperous, for a minority, rising dynasty. They act like they own the restaurant. They complain about the price of a meal. One girl said in a shrill voice, “Oh, it’s too expensive. I am a poor student.” She is majoring in Stupidity and Callousness at Beijing Normal University. She failed Basic Courtesy 101.

A brat boy chastises the Nepalese waiter about his pronunciation of Menu. The crew cut Mandarin idiot commands the boy to say it again, Menu.

They are living, breathing examples of the spoiled one child political and cultural genocide legacy. It will come back to haunt China. They have the emotional maturity of a 15-year old. They are so busy stuffing their faces and talking over each other all the European guests stare at them.

They don’t care. They act and talk like this at home. A new strain of vociferous Chinese virus has been unleashed on Earth. Hong Kong residents call them locusts. 

Suddenly Flapper Dolly jumped up on the table yelling, Kill the Running Capitalist Dogs! Making Money in China is Glorious!

Everyone threw their steel toed reinforced Everest hiking boots at her. She died of Shame. Her friends dragged her body out, selling the boots to pay for her cremation.

Brick boys in Kathmandu valley.

Twins work in Bhaktapur.