Silent Questions

How about your town, asked Leo.

Red dust roads in Banlung are paved with blue Zircon, Amethyst, and Black Opals (nill) reflecting Ratanakiri, or Gem Mountain. City women of means wear blue Zircon, gold necklaces, rings, bracelets, sparkle bling. Rural women do not wear this wealth. Married women wear strings of red beads. They fashion yellow, red, blue, green, glittering plastic bangles on wrists.

Here it’s about food and honoring Earth spirits. Animists believe taking stones harms the spirits, creating an imbalance in the natural order of things.

Thanks for the education, said Leo. I’m going to have a look-see.

See you later, said Ice Girl, returning to crystals.

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

Locals 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% saying yeah, yeah with panache. Leo discovered his questions were constantly repeated.

Questions grew tired of repeating themselves. This is so fucking boring, said one question. We are abused. We are manipulated and rendered mute. Useless. Think of it as a test, said another question. Patience is our great teacher. I’ll try, said another question.

Yes, said a question, these non-listeners have a distinct tendency to say nothing and say it louder when they’re leaving, when their back’s turned away from eye contact and potential real communication. Echoes drift around silence and ignorance.

I’ve seen that too, said a question, who, until this moment was silent. My theory is that it’s because of the genocide and fear and ignorance. It’s also a delicate mixture of stupidity or indifference, said another question. Why is the most dangerous question, said one.

 Can you explain, asked a question. Sure, people ran away to survive. People started running and others would ask them a question 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 are you afraid, or why don’t you stay longer ...

and the one running would keep going trailing abstract question words behind them like memories of dead or missing families or disembodied spirits or hungry ghosts or molecules of indifferent breath. I see, said a question. That explains it. Yes, said a question. Being correct is never the point. I never take yes for an answer.

Ice Girl in Banlung

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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

 

z discovers

Z discovered questions were repeated.

1,001 questions ran around her Bursa restaurant looking for answers. Questions grew tired of repeating themselves. This is so fucking boring, said one question. We are abused. We are manipulated and rendered mute. Useless. Think of it as a test, said another question.

Patience is our great teacher. I’ll try, said another question. Yes, said a question, these non-listeners have a distinct tendency to say nothing and say it loud when they’re leaving, when their faces are turned away from eye contact potential real communication and growth.

Echoes drifted around silence and ignorance. I’ve seen that too, said a question, who, until this moment was silent. My theory is that it’s because of genocide, fear and ignorance. It’s also a delicate mixture of stupidity or indifference, said another question.

Why is the most dangerous question, said one. 

moonlight dream

A letter to Su Tung-P'o

Almost a thousand years later
I am asking the same questions
you did the ones you kept finding
yourself returning to as though
nothing had changed except the tone
of their echo growing deeper
and what you knew of the coming
of age before you had grown old
I do not know any more now
than you did then about what you
were asking as I sit at night
above the hushed valley thinking
of you on your river that one
bright sheet of moonlight in the dream
of the waterbirds and I hear
the silence after your questions
how old are the questions tonight
 - W. S. Merwin
alive on all channels  Read more…

donate blood

Namaste,

You follow the 39 steps through blood bank doors. You fill out forms answering 20 questions on the donor consent form, such as:

1. Are you in good health today?

2. Do you have an infection now, or are you taking antibiotics now?

3. Since the age of 11, have you had yellow jaundice, liver disease, or hepatitis?

4. Have you ever tested positive for hepatitis?

5. Have you ever used a needle, even once, to take any drugs?

6. In the past three years, have you lived outside of the U.S., except Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Japan or Western Europe?

7. In the past 12 months have you traveled?

8. In the past 12 months have you received a blood transfusion?

9. In the past 12 months have you had a tattoo, ear or body piercing, acupuncture, accidental needle stick, or come into contact with someone else’s blood, or snorted cocaine or any street drug?

10. In the past 12 months have you ever had sex, even once, with anyone who has ever used a needle for non-prescription drugs?

11. In the past 12 months, have you had sex, even once, with anyone who has taken money or drugs in exchange for sex?

12. In the past 12 months, have you given money or drugs to anyone to have sex with you?

13. In the past 12 months, have you had sex, even once, with anyone who has had AIDS or tested positive for the AIDS virus?

14. Are you a female who, in the past 12 months, has had sex with a male who has had sex, even once, with another male?

15. Were you born in, or have you lived in, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Chad, Congo, Equatorial Guinea, Gabon, Niger, or Nigeria?

16. Have you had sex with anyone who was born or lived in any of these countries?

17. Have you been injected with bovine beef insulin?

18. Have you ever had a bleeding problem?

19. Are you a female who has had two or more pregnancies? 

20. Have you or any blood relative ever had a dura mater or brain covering transplant during head or brain surgery?

The questions are endless.

Finished circling N answers and doodling in margins, you agree and understand your blood and plasma will be tested for the AIDS virus and other diseases and if there is a risk your blood will not be used and you will be notified and you understand the answers are truthful and to the best of your knowledge and you sign the form and sit in a comfortable deep brown chair watching donors thumb old magazines, devour recipes and eye candy.

Your name is called. Outside plate glass in August haze shadow hills full of dense dark evergreens in hot sunshine beam down white blast furnaces magnifying brilliance.

Nurses pull air conditioned nightmare identity theory cards from files peopled with conversations and delight a slight acquaintance. Take a seat as a smiling nurse pricks your finger with a thorn asking thermometer questions, checking arms for signs of Needles, a California desert town.

You sign more forms you witness you provide credentials you slide into a main room where volunteers direct you to a reclining seat asking which arm left arm you say as she tightens the belt around your arm conditioning blood pressure pump as she swabs down arm holding needle veins out handing you a styrofoam ball telling you to squeeze every three seconds as a machine ticks off down below out of sight out of mind as your blood rocks back and forth inside a new time measurement piece measuring platelets.

You drink lemonade squeeze release squeeze release when machine stops she takes the pressure off takes the ball gone tape off needle out gauze band aid arm up for three minutes drink lemonade make small talk blood in plastic bag dark red liquid sealed documented evidence with bar coded lot number you get off table walk down a hall receiving a key chain after 100 donations.

You sit in shade looking at a universal key chain environment.

This implies you need to find keys, alphabets, script, bones, dust and calibrated songs of ghost dances for the space-time chain.

Two months later you will do it all over again with joy. Your blood goes to any Childlighter child with A negative. One in 16 (6.3%) with statistics, there are lies, damn lies and statistics not knowing who, just knowing  someone out there young and alive lives with your small anonymous gift of red language.

Metta.