Neurosis

Greetings,

I'm ok. It's the world that's in a mess.

People here love to look back. It is a passion. It is a genetic molecule of fear, doubt and uncertainty. Perhaps also just a plain childish innocent curiosity of wanting the past, needing.

Yes. Focus on needs, not wants. Needs manifesting their desire. A desire for a ghost. We are all passing through. 

They look back to see if they see, yes, in their vivid reptilian imagination a ghost. Their ghost. A ghost from a family, friend, lost. Looking for clues at their personal ground zero. 

They've arrived from distant galaxies. Java man was discovered here 40,000 years ago.

So it figures, accepting an evolutionary premise, their DNA star chart continues its genetic dance today. 

I live in talking monkey zones. They eat rice. They drink water. They wash one set of clothing and hang it out to dry on poles. They burn down the forest. They harvest brooms. Their shamans bring rain. Tropical downpours allow people the luxury to wash cars. 

They use their faint star energy to look, not really seeing, behind them wondering, all the wondering. 

Food is cheap here. Medicine and education is expensive. This has nothing to do with simians. It has nothing to do with the two women sitting in a dark warung neighborhood food joint. The warung faces a tall cinder block wall. Chickens, goats and cats prowl, peck and forage through garbage and dreams.

One woman sits quietly in a deep meditation. Her friend parts her hair gently, looking for minute insects, cleaning her scalp. They take turns cleaning and inspecting. This genetic behavior is being repeated in zoos, jungles, and rain forests. Chattering oral story tellers play the gamelan, pounding out 40,000 year old tunes.

Healing the people with music.

Males wash their little toy machines. They study the accumulated grime under long yellow curling fingernails. They play chess along the road waiting for passengers. Some visit the warung to chat up the girls or eat spicy rice mixed with tofu, chicken, veggies, green chillies and deep fried snacks.

Here's one man building a brave new world. Forging new futures with a patriotic purpose. An assessment on process in a data based star cluster.

Metta.

My name is Captain Dan. I was an interpreter at MAC V during the Vietnam War. I sail out of Hoi An.

Tags Poem

Greetings,

air ash 
bangkok
cambodia china corruption
dance
earth
economy 
education
europe
family 
fear
life
music
nature new year
people travel

Metta.

State secrets - fools

Greetings,

The fat happy alien American tourist is on his cell. Across the street is a river. The town is dead because Bangkok is a no-go zone. The red light district is red. What is red for you?

Thailand has been declared a disaster zone by various countries. They've issued travel advisories. 

"DO NOT travel to Thailand." If any travelers come in now it's from Nam, by boat or bus. Swimmers are more rare than very expensive electricity. The river of tourists has dried up. 

Mr. Shallow is talking. He shares state secrets.
"I can tell you a lot about my life." He lacks hard travel experience.
He's already called all his friends to talk about dental care in Asia. This is his BIG issue.
"I don't want to be walking around Bangkok full of pain killers."

Bangkok is filled with pain killers.
He needs an extraction. The more you drill the more you bill. Down the road.

"I have high blood pressure."
"I'm waiting for the place down the road to open up. They have amazing pork ribs."

He is suffering personified.

Meanwhile, if you are in China you are not reading this. My site is blocked in China. I used a proxy in the heart of Texas. It was blocked when I lived there teaching English to lazy students. They wanted to pass, not learn. 

China is wonderful. Especially the government. They recently announced new measures to control freedom of speech. They have notified all telecom and internet service providers to give them data on users.

It's about government control over private communication. They are tightening the screws, fools.

Their BIG FEAR is losing control. The broad propaganda words are State Secret.

In a related move, the Chinese government on Monday posted on a government Web site a broad definition of what constituted a commercial secret, covering information related to strategic plans, management, mergers, equity trades, stock market listings, reserves, production, procurement and sales strategy, financing and finances, negotiations, joint venture investments and technology transfers. more...

The majority of Chinese use their cell phones to access the internet. It's cheaper than a desktop. They use the internet to: 

• listen to music
• play games
• chat

 "This is perfect," said a Chinese gremlin in Beijing. "The immature masses are like sheep."

"More like perpetually spoiled children," said another gremlin. "This is what happens after 30 years of a one child only policy. This planned genocide will come back and haunt us."

He's one of 50,000 internet Police spending their day surfing, looking for words or phrases like June 4, Tibet, freedom, democracy, Uighar, slavery, reform, literature, human rights, gulag, corruption, nepotism, bribery, unrest, strife, demonstrations, education, scandal, liberty, equality...and so on.

Metta.

Ash's images

Greetings,

Ash has released images of salvation after the volcanic burst of energy.

Millions of humans have never seen an airplane. They've heard it's a very large metal container filled with hot air and nervous humans packed like peasants on a bus in Asia.

They've heard it consumes massive amounts of fuel during the nerve racking period of time called take off when it must achieve a land speed of approximately 150-180 miles per hour. After take off pilots must quickly fly through seven sectors to reach cruising altitude around 33,000 feet. This requires a tremendous amount of fuel. 

Using all the fuel to get up, get off and get going explains why planes fly fast at 33,000 feet. They are now gliding on thermal currents caused by exploding Icelandic volcanoes. It's a cause and effect ratio.

Do a risk assessment. Scientists do not have ALL the answers. They have determined humans cause global warming. They cannot determine the density, volume, location or effects of Ash. Ash is real mystery. It's all hypothetical speculation. 

You are an experienced international long haul pilot. You ask yourself. "Is it better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air or in the air wishing you were on the ground?"

Fly now pay later? Sit it out? File for legal resident status? Ask to be adopted? Immigrate? Stay another day?

Millions of stranded tourists file a claim with the United Nations for reparations from Iceland for:

inconvenience 
misery
lost employment
insufficient scientific data
terrible high fat, high sodium airport food
lousy sleeping arrangements
expensive mood altering medicine
missing spouse
messy divorce
trial separation
lost children
lost sense of humor
family counseling for long term emotional post-tramatic stress disorder  

Start walking. Carry a map, extra water, energy bars, a towel and sturdy walking stick.

Metta.

Headroom in coach. 

A Chinese ticket agent.

 

A departure lounge refugee.

Business class passengers.

Grounded somewhere over the rainbow.

Away

Greetings,

Turn the page away from morning, away from scattered grains of rice in a broken bamboo basket feeding wild crows. Blacker than faces hiding inside deep dark passages watching the street. Always watching. Staring with hard deep black eyes.

Their eyes, when they lived in the flat countryside covered in lost forgotten patient rice paddies waiting for a drop of water near groves of palm, coconut, banana trees surrounding bamboo thatched homes on stilts and naked children playing with dreams, watched deep shadows.

They watched. They never closed. They watched for enemies, invaders from Thailand, America, Vietnam, wives, husbands, children, strangers, soldiers, Apsara dancers. They were always on always ready to see the smallest cosmic movement across horizens, miles of land mined country or inside thick foliage.

Their eyes danced with waiting. Waiting held their eyes as lovers will, close, feeling fluttering lids, retinas trembling with visual information, data, mysteries. They cultivated patience, a necessary food. They comprehended their essential visual priorities. Watching, a national sport, is their universe.

They had a small vital responsibility living in perpetual darkness - seeing far away with telescopic acuity. Their constant vision burned up 85% of their daily energy. The remaining 15% was used for procreation, eating, speaking and laughing. Laughing burns up calories.

Eyes practice the silent art of being silent, watching past another person during a silent conversation watching each other's back being the other. How they face the other watching beyond where everything matters infinitely. For one moment in their short sweet life. 

Metta.