Fairyland

Namaste,

The Electric Fairy waved her magic wand. All the lights in Nepal went out.  
Ha, ha laughed the Electric Fairy.

A business man with an Olive food joint in a small tourist town near a lake below Annapurna crammed with:

18,543 restaurants,
69.306 money changers,
456 trek clothing stores,
283 travel agents,
32 adventure companies,
19 boarding schools,

8,032 comatose, dulled out, dumbed down students
dreaming of better Indian educational/employment futures

27 female Tibetan refugees selling their recycled sidewalk dreams,
401 guesthouses,
8 dance halls,
1 jazz club,

3 supermarkets,
numerous mom & pop shoe string ops,

52 barber/massage shops,
9 bookstores,
6 bakeries,
85 wandering oxen,
3 tailors,
2 shoe repair experts,
1,208 anxious lost tourists,

and 50,001 bored residents with very short economic attention spans said,
I will buy a $15,000 gas generator to solve this energy conundrum. 

When it ran out of gas the Electric Fairy laughed ha, ha, ha. Now you see it, now you don't.

Metta.

songlines

Namaste,

"Poetry proper is never merely a higher mode (melos) of everyday language. It is rather the reverse: everyday language is a forgotten and therefore used-up poem, from which there hardly resounds a call any longer." -Martin Heidegger, 'Language'

+

"Have you seen the Indians?" asked the son of the Emir of Adrar.
"I have." 
"Is it a village or what?"
"No," I said. "It is one of the greatest countries in the world."
"Tiens! I always thought it was a village."

+

"Useless to ask a wandering man
Advice on the construction of a house.
The work will never come to completion."

-Songlines, by Bruce Chatwin.

Metta.

food

Namaste,

65 million people in Asia
live in a village called Poverty
surging oil prices, production shortfall from bad weather, export restrictions
by food producing countries

food is a weapon

poor Asian families spend 60% of their income on food
600 million
2/3 of the world's poor
live on less than $1.25 a day
wealthy countries spend 15% of their income on manufactured food

Metta.

Die of Shame

Namaste,

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.

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.

Metta.

Kid Fools

Namaste,

Said the young Nepalese girl carrying the world on her back.

Her world is a large plastic sack for collecting valuable garbage. She uses a piece of thin hooked metal to probe piles of refuse. She has children scavenger friends in Vietnam (bundled logs and firewood), Laos (twigs and firewood), Cambodia (trash, charcoal, plastic bottles) all singing and dancing under the weight. Down all the days of their youth.

The weight of childhood is heavy. Children are not fooled. No joke. 

The girl led a traveler to the national zoo. A huge magnificent orange and white striped Bengal tiger roared near the bars. Feed Me! He dragged raw red buffalo meat into the shade expanding canines, grinding flesh.

Two sad brown eyed crying Black Himalayan bears in a cramped cold cement cage with scraggly tree trunks pressed their noses through rusty bars whispering, Please open the cage and take us back to the mountains.

A Griffon's brown elegant wing span blocked the sun flying beneath wire limitations. Oh, it said, If only I could soar again on thermals. If only I could regain my dignity and freedom. 

I have seen many people in cages, said the girl.

Metta.

Draw water. Draw your dream.