Questions ask Questions - Ice Girl

Chapter 2.

Red dust town turned windy. Swirling quality gem stone particles and degrees of indifference spiraled through air. Redwood slats covered open sewer drains.

Locals in Banlung, Cambodia watched Leo with curiosity and suspicion. They stared from a deep vacuum. When he made eye contact they glanced away with fear, uncertainty and doubt. They didn’t see many strangers here. They listened at 49% or less saying yeah, yeah with panache.

Leo discovered his quest-ions were constantly repeated.

Quest-ions grew tired of repeating themselves.

This is so fucking boring, said one quest-ion. We are abused. We are manipulated and rendered mute. Useless.

Think of it as a test, said another quest-ion. Patience is our great teacher.

I’ll try, said another quest-ion.

Yes, said a quest-ion these non-listeners have a distinct tendency to say more and say it louder when they’re leaving, when their back’s turned away from eye contact and potential real communication.

I’ve seen that too, said a quest-ion, who, until this moment had remained silent. My theory is that it’s because of the genocide and fear. 

It’s also a delicate mixture of stupidity or indifference, said another quest-ion. Why is the most dangerous quest-ion, said one.

Can you explain, asked a quest-ion.

Sure, people ran away to survive. People started running and others would ask them a quest-ion like why are you running, who’s chasing you, where are you going or what’s the matter or when did you become afraid or why don’t you stay longer and the one running would keep going trailing abstract quest-ion words behind them like memories or disembodied spirits or molecules of indifferent breath.

I see, said a quest-ion. That explains it.

Yes, said a quest-ion. Being correct is never the point.

Tell me why oh my. How did I grow?

Ice Girl in Banlung

 

Take Amazing Risks

“To do amazing things you have to take amazing risks and suffer greatly,” said Zeynep, his five-year old genius friend in Bursa, Turkey.

 “Here,” she said, “many a-dolts stay with their mothers forever and a day because they are afraid of freedom and accepting responsibility for their lives.

“They eat fear morning noon and night. They are afraid to speak their honest feelings, to express their innate desire for independence.

“Learned helplessness. They are willing victims of traditional conservative attitudes and values. Free will is a foreign language. They are scared of taking risks, letting go and growing. I may grow old but I’ll never grow up. If I grow up I die.”

“I feel the same way.”

One day while sharing lunch and drawing in notebooks, Lucky said, “When I was nine I was going on 50. Now I am 50 going on nine. I exist outside adult time.”

“We are passing through,” Zeynep said lighting a candle in darkness.

After Ankara he’d accepted a new adventure in Bursa. This shocked everyone in the capital lower case. They assumed he’d stay with them forever. Students and teachers celebrated his transition with a sparkling cake. Women cried sadness and joy.

“We are not here for a long time, we are here for a good time,” said Sappho the poetess.

One adult student who’d articulated her desire to move to Constantinople during the Ottoman Empire seeking an educational engineering job in a quality control factory school producing obedient robotic idiot children and live with her boyfriend cowered behind her futile quest for independence from over-protective parents. “My father won’t let me.”

Oh the shame.

“Take control of your life. Get a grip. Let go. Jump. Discover courage and your wings on the way down.”

The Language Company

We need rules in turkey - TLC

At TEOL English school in Giresen, Turkey, a small town on the Black Sea, Curiosity asked, “How did I grow?” knowing it disturbed sedated ones. Curiosity loved asking philosophical quest-ions about how to live a good life.

Not interested with intellectual veracity another student said, “How did I get here?”

“By walking,” said Lucky. “Step by step.”

After the TEOL center closed completing a perfect circle he walked up a steep brick hill. At exactly 9:11 p.m. on a corner near an empty mosque with a broken fountain of youth, a four-man Swat commando team from a make believe secular Islamist country disguised as a provincial soccer team wearing purple spandex leotards and baklava masks cradled submarine machine guns. Itchy fingers caressed love’s hair trigger.

One was well dressed. Black. Hungry.

He said, “We are Deep State.” His comrades sang a refrain.

“WE are POWER.”

“WE are CONTROL.”

“WE ARE FEAR AND AUTHORITY. We kill people with visionary rose petals. Our artificial currency and idiotic ideological Rule of Law stirs evolutionary linguistic sugar cubes.”

Lucky said, “How did I adapt, adjust and evolve? How did I unlearn your dystopian world? I never took possession of your world.”

“Keep moving fool,” said Mr. Swat. “Looking at us is against the law. Speaking your mind is an act of dissent and terrorism and a irrevocable violation of Article 301 against The Deep State.”

Young unarmed gangs observing this show of farce were impressed by his bluster. They idled their ignorance with acuity. When I grow up, said one kid, like you know never, I will wear black and carry a loaded gun to impress my family, friends, idiots, fools and strangers.

Another true fragment, said Z.

The Language Company

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

Dance the Paperwork Shuffle in Turkey

Editor's note: Dancing in Turkey became more chaotic in July 2016.

Fill us in on the exciting and rousing conclusion from October 26-31, 2012 to be exact, said Zeynep.

Here we go. The alert went out on Saturday 27 October before Halloween when Sit Down, a native with a degree in Business Management from Tupperware College living at home with mom and dad and working as admin guy at the TEOL school in Trabzon, tried to reach Lucky in Giresun - cherry in Latin - 2.5 hours away.

Sit Down needed his documents to apply for a residency permit.

The all knowing, all seeing, all powerful and all believing Turkish government of bored drones, wanting to force everyone in the food chain to be accountable so they could maintain their power and authority game had told TEOL:

You, Profit Before People running an educational business intent on brainwashing and dumbing down children, young adults, old adults and diseased heart-mind dead humans in quest of an English certificate from your institution have, according to the grand and glorious proclamation from our dead fearless and forever glorified leader Ata Boy, ten calendar days - yes only ten  - act now before its too late - to file the required paperwork requesting work permits for your native speakers born, raised and reared outside our glorious land of sea, sky and succulent tomatoes with their clear pronunciation, these specific barbarians,after filing for their residency permits.

Failure to do so said Authority, Means 1) they cannot be employed by the state of Confusion & Sorrow & High Anxiety 2) they cannot order Allah cart in Kofte diners featuring grilled shit burgers slathered with yogurt 3) they will be decapitated at dawn tomorrow by a sad warrior hero on a white stallion waving a diamond mind blade.

Failure to comply with our Ten-Day Decree means you will need to start the complete bureaucratic sham process all over again. You will lose face. You will suffer personal + national humiliation + our brutal revenge.

You will become a hunted dog in Armenian forests and massacred like 1.5 million. We do not acknowledge this genocide in 1914. We erased the Armenians. We deny their existence.

Prove it.

Denial kills you. Anger is expensive.

Failure to comply and lie with intentional cunning means you will have to haul more word shit and process tedious official documents. You will spend years seeking a stamp from a performing seal of approval. You will raise your greasy baksheesh palms to heaven imploring Ali Baba the leader of forty thieves for redemption and solace.

Tell me you love me. Love and passion create suffering.

WE, Authority do our best to make the paperwork process cumbersome, illogical, frustrating, idiotic, mind numbing, depressing, sushi ideal and heavy real deep shit for brains.

We love paper. It’s why, as you've seen in Bay (male) or Bayan (female) toilets absence of paper products. We use holy water imported from the Vatican via Soapy Arabia to blast orifices. Water is sweeter than pleasure principles smothered with honey.

Everything here needs a permit: breathing, laughing, dreaming, dancing, drawing, writing and meditating. A government issued signed stamped official document.

No paper no chance.

Please note this text message to Lucky from Sit Down.

The Language Company