Free Fire Zone

Greetings,

A modified version of this entry was originally posted 28 April. Future tense in the present tense Bangkok tick tock. The alarm bells are ringing. Ding-dong, the witch is dead.

Central Bangkok is now a free fire zone. You know it's come down to the basics when citizens trapped like rats fight with sharp bamboo poles, slingshots and stones against tanks, armored personnel carriers and frightened conscripts.

They shoot arrows at helicopters. Amazon Indians tried this tactic. The arrow of time points to entropy and chaos.

David and Goliath. The city is a glass and brick jungle. Welcome to the urban jungle. In real time.

Arrows, slingshots and rocks. Primitive vs. Machine. Avatar.

A sniper takes out a man in fatigues. Fatigue sets in. Poor people say, fight to the death. A man with a wheelbarrow rolls through the city village, "Bring out your dead, bring out your dead."

A spokesperson says. Starve them out. Turn off the electricity. Give them a taste of high tech military power. Liberate the masses. 1984. ONE STATE rules.

Citizens wait for an 82-year old king to say something like, Go home. Go back to your poor rural villages. Support glass and brass high rise city development. Support the monarchy. Why is it anarchy? Mon-anarchy. It's the rule of law says the government. Our law. We print money. We hire armies. We make laws. Obey or die. Guns and intimidation and inequality and laws. 

The poor need affordable food, clean water, opportunity, health care, fair wages, education, and so forth.

It has been reported, via movement sensors people dance a little faster as explosions scatter metal, debris and death outside the neon splashed venues. The DJ simply turns the music up a decibel level drowning out the yelling and screaming of red shirts, yellow shirts, polo shirts, ambulances, innocent victims and bass driven hip-hop tick tock.

Red shirts represent the poor people. Yellow shirts represent the middle class.

"Poverty and corruption has absolutely nothing whatsoever to say or do about this issue," said B.S. Sympathy, a well respected scion of foreign banking firms, investment and real estate development companies.

She spoke from her heavily fortified villa in an undisclosed Bangkok location while eating caviar, drinking champagne and petting twin poodles named Lucky and Fortunate. "Let them eat cake."

The Department of Tourism said this will have no effect on:

a) tourists desperate to get out
b) tourists desperate to get in
Ships from England are now standing by in Bangkok sewage canals to evacuate nationals.

"....But taken together, they suggest a campaign by shadowy elements in Thailand to stir fear and create a sense of instability."

It's highly plausible to insert the country of your choice in the aforementioned sentence other than Thailand. You have roughly 170 choices. Start with the letter A and work toward Z, say, Algeria, Afghanistan, Bulimia, any central Asian country, China, and so on.

They stare at you from the vacuum of their eyes and say, "Would you like to make a deal?"

Metta.

35 years later

Greetings,

Today Vietnam celebrated 35 years since the end of the war.

58,000 Americans and 3 million Vietnamese were killed. The images are from the HCMC museum in Ho Chi Minh City and Ha Noi History Museum.

Metta.

One Air day

Someone else is writing this.

Now it is dark and I am sitting in a small private zone at Coconut. It is a raised platform with large comfortable pillows, a square table with a red and orange cotton runner. The hand carved flower vase holds two white frangipani flowers , hibiscus and bougainvillea.

The platform has a thatched roof and wooden railings on the sides. It is typical of Balinese - Lombok style. Perfect for snoozing, eating, reading. Delightful, clean simple and elegant in its simplicity.

Today's island walk was clean and peaceful. No motor vehicles, no merchants on scooters selling bread while playing a scratchy recording at ear splitting levels. No young "cowboys" hustling their 125 cc passive aggressive tendencies, such as you find on Lombok and Bali.

The day passed sitting, watching dive boats ply aquamarine blue, arching toward Lombok Strait depths. Lombok is across the way, beaches, palms, rising smoke from field burning, foothills and the rising dark blue clouds shading Mt. Rinjani and the volcano. Blue sky.

So it feels good to be sitting here in the garden. This is the University of the Garden. This blooming forth. Fragrance taken deep into lungs. A mask on the wall. Solemn eyes down, drifting. Yes, this bamboo wood-wind chime. Across the sea all blue calm, singing. 

White coral bones. A dreamcatcher. Feathers.

Swimming sand castles. Blue heaven light. Reflections and strong current desires dance the water.

Wind whistles through high wavering coconut palms.  

Metta.

 

Gili Air

I am beginning to upload images from the recent adventure to Gili Air is-land and Lombok. Word and image editing continues...

In summary: I sat down on Gili Air for eight days and then moved around Lombok for two. About 600-1,000 people live on Air. We should all live on air.

Meno, the next island over is quieter and Trawangan is the party island. Gili means "small island" in Sasak, the local language. 

Indonesia has 13,000 islands and 1,000 languages.

Men farm, build new bungalows, fish, commute to Lombok or work in the island tourist industry. Besides rentals - maybe 350 tourists at the max with small restaurants, the water business - diving, glass bottom boat tours and snorkeling provides income.

Women work in cafe kitchens. Some sell carved coconut bracelets, necklaces and fresh mangos, papayas and pineapples on the beach. Mellow hustle.  

I sat down every day near the sea. I walked around the island in 1.5 hours. Hot sun, clear blue water, strong southern coastal winds. No people. No motor vehicles. No engines. Only the music of water and sun mixed with the occasional bells from a passing horse cart.

Beaches are filled with tons of bleached out white coral. The men used to fish with dynamite killing the fish and coral. 

The distant volcano at Mt. Rinjani on Lombok played inside white and gray clouds.

Every day I sat near the sea, enjoying thick Lombok coffee, reading, writing in the trusty Moleskine, made images, swam inside a clear blue water aquarium, and snorkeled with large turtles. Hello.

It was stressful. Doing my work.

If I had more time I'd make it shorter.

Metta.

Water music

A photograph, the details of life, the random constellations of objects that surround us.

A plane to an is-land. A van through high, thick luminous green jungles, see sweeping oceans, gray monkeys along the road, sand and the Lombok Strait.

Waves, sand, water. A blue and white boat. 20 minutes after riding waves, all the deep currents you land on Air is-land's beach. You take a horse-cart along a sandy path.

Fresh sea air. No motorized vehicles. Music echoes from bells suspended from the horse's neck.

Water waves and bells. 

May 2009 bring you every happiness.

Metta.