Laughter fears sex

Greetings,

It is 9.11 in the morning. Only numbers. Do the math. You attach your personal meaning to 9.11.

Another lousy day in Asian paradise. I work for the Fun Police. The reality is I am surrounded by idiots. The idiots are the foreigners. They live on death row.

The local people remain traumatized by their history of genocide. It will take another generation to see clearly. Disconnected. Unfocused, easily distracted. Watching other people make things happen with dead eyes. 

I said this once to a couple of native teachers in Asia Minor. They may have thought it was: Rude. Impolite. Scary. True. A reality to be avoided like H1N1. They didn't feel comfortable facing this UNpleasant Fact. I love facing unpleasant facts because these facts are great lessons in humility, honesty, compassion and foolishness. 

Human intelligence on Earth is a rumor.

Daily survival business is nothing but wear and tear on people.

Children, adolescents and adults are rounded up and taken in for questioning. The SYSTEM is well designed for these interrogations.

RUBBISH! screams a 25-year old English woman coddling her disturbed, distraught English boyfriend. She is his secret mother. He doesn't know or realize this fact. 

They've created their own personal fiefdom. It's like an NGO. They get the money and create jobs, opportunities for people with disabilities, empowering people with dignity and respect and value.

He is afraid of intimate emotional sex. In fact, he's so afraid of sex he changes the subject, avoids her sharp piercing eyes inside the swirling chaos of her rusty loudspeaker. She pushes her voice down the broken street yelling RUBBISH! RUBBISH!

This highly intelligent and slightly evolved life form expression is all. Everything clear and direct. When you love RUBBISH setting fire to human lives is easy. She is afraid of emotion truth and authenticity. Their life is one deep black hole. They have so much in common, like a mutual fear of sex. They need more practice.

Do you want an example of my recent practice? he asked her while cramming eggs into an orifice. If you must, she whispered, but hurry up, I'm late for work, work, work. I'll be brief, he said. 

She reclined inside the blue hammock on the porch as twilight filtered through leaves of time. Shadows danced in her 24 childlike freedom. He gestured they go in. He explored her neck, lips, ears. She didn’t like kissing. Kissing in her culture was the ultimate sign of intimacy. He roamed small hills with his tongue down to valleys. 

She gave him her passport to heaven and he slaked his thirst with her essence. She was more relaxed and passionate. They were familiar with each other’s bodies. Her boom-boom demands were muted. The vocabulary of touch. Sleeping, her face was a calm Apsara dancer, refined elegance, soft cheeks, brown glow.

He walked her through the morning garden down to a moto, smelled her long neck, tipped her bye-bye. She returned to the slums waiting for night. Waiting for strangers. 

His flame grilled girlfriend started screaming, RUBBISH! RUBBISH!

Calm down baby, he said. Give a person a match and they'll be warm for a minute.

Set them on fire and they'll be warm for the rest of their life, she said. I am the mother of all RUBBISH!

Take them in for questioning. Get the answers. 

What's the next question?

Metta.

Writing and sex 301

Greetings,

A Chinese computer science professor received a 3.5 year sentence for "crowd licentiousness."  This is vague government wordage. It covers crowds. It covers licenses. It mean a crowd gets together and applies for a license. In this case with broad overtones they applied for a license to swap identities.

He led informal swinger clubs for partner swapping. He pleaded innocent. "I had nothing to do with the North Korean submarine attack in an apartment with 18 people. I was only the middleman. I was formatting my hard drive and downloading data."

He was charged under Criminal Law 301. 

A Chinese academic said...“I feel that the thought process of the Chinese authorities is always to try to manage and control the population, the people. Beyond prosecuting criminal activities, they feel they have to control or manage people to their standards.” read more...

Turkey also has an infamous Article 301 law. This law makes it illegal to insult Turkey, Turkish ethnicity or Turkish government institutions. Writers Orhan Pamuk, Noam Chomsky, Elif Safak, among others have been charged under this article. All the cases were either dropped or acquitted.

A spoiled young girl in Ankara was recently arrested and charged under Article 301 for insulting her mother's cooking. "I hate Turkish food. Too many tomatoes. I don't want black olives. I don't want fresh salad. I don't want fresh seafood from the Marmara Sea. I want Italian pizza with extra cheese please squeeze." It was thrown out for lack of evidence.

Her mother said, "Eat what I give you. Hurry up. I'm late for my wife swapping seminary with binary logic."

Number 301 is very popular. The number of words mating and swapping with other words is increasing. Words remove an article of clothing like a, an, the.

Metta.

Japanese explorers among others

Greetings,

Tomorrow is the BIG new year day here in the kingdom. I am a shamanic camera. SNAP!

It is morning. The four Japanese tourists left on 125cc motorcycles for a day in the country. The man had long gray streaked hair and wiggled his bare feet when the authoritative diminutive black haired elf woman spoke. Food was more important to her than conversation. Nodding her head in agreement helped her chew.

They agreed on everything. This helps them avoid losing face. Losing face is the worst thing in the whole wide world in their culture.

Her female friend was bigger than an exploding astroid eating space at the speed of sound. The man talked with his mouth full of pliable eggs. Another woman hiding behind big dark sunglasses appeared. Everyone talked in staccato preparing plans to have a grand adventure along the river, through flat countryside filled with land mines far away from Tokyo. 

An arisotocratic French couple sat in front of the lodge facing the river. He was 40. Fat and morose. He blamed everything on her and she cared less and less. He covered his mouth while speaking with her blocking his deep unconscious emotional secrets about guilt, desire and fear. She was 32, wore new brown Birkenstock sandals and picked her toenails out of boredom. Sex was their glue.

Wearing biased blinders they comfortably ignored small brown faced humans as they traveled through Asia.

A Swedish man in a safari hat with his conservative white checked shirt tucked into his pants asked another Nordic man how to work his digital camera. He ran across the street, took a photo of the river and mountain and ran back to show his friend. He was very excited. 

Five bored tuk-tuk drivers sat across the street in their chariots of fire playing with their cell phones.

A foreigner's girlfriend had a simian face. He rescued her from a bar called The Heart of Darkness. She knew how to peel his banana. She deserted him. She ran to the market to find Boredom, her secret lover.

"I love Boredom. I can't get enough Boredom. It's a genetic necessity. Goodbye." He returned to The Heart of Darkness to find a temporary replacement. Life is a temporary condition.

Metta.

Sappho, the Greek lyric poet of Lesbos

How's this compare to where you've been?

Greetings,

That's the question three fat white guys discuss at a garden restaurant on a breezy Saturday. They were dropped off by a van. They meet friends.

One wealthy self assured Arab man with forehead sunglasses and his tall sleek jaguar girlfriend in tight jeans, tighter top and rattling high heels. Her feet are small and beautiful. Coiffeur hair. Originally, "inner part of the helmet." She leaves half her noodles. A Frenchman and his pregnant wife. She laughs a lot.

The weekend escape exercise from the capital. The three amigos booked rooms for their Cambodian honeys coming down from Phnom Penh and now they're drinking beer. The waft of suds and distinct European body odor drifts along the river. Intelligent life on Earth is a rumor.

The answer? "Now we've got women," said one man.

Sounds like a history story about a group of seafaring men who raided a Mediterranean city. They kidnapped all the women. The city men were pissed off and raided another coastal town, kidnapping all the women there. This is how war started. Revenge baby.

One day the women were asked about this event. "No," they said. "We weren't kidnapped. We went willingly."

No squeeze, no please.

This is a five minute free writing exercise. Keep your hand moving. The birds are singing. 

I live at Orchid. Orchid is important because I love orchids. They have many yellow and purple orchids growing, hanging, from planters. I feel great with orchids. I am a traveling gardener with unlimited potentials. Plural.

I remember many orchids in Indonesia. They were cheap. I decorated the front porch with multiple colorful orchids - red, orange, purple, white, and yellow in clay pots with a charcoal base. Orchids took me to the mountains to see my wild friends. (5 minutes)

At 7:30 a.m. the Orchid restaurant is filled with the smell of burning fires from refuse, plastic bags, and organic material. German travelers spit out their harsh dictatorial guttural sense of determination. It is harsh. They are planning to invade, to provoke a war to justify their extreme greed for land and slaves.

Teutonic tongues mix with screeching Khmer tongues. Question. What is louder than a group of Khmer people? Answer. Another group of Khmer people.

Babbling comparisons display firm purpose. They establish their memory-fiction with a drunken slow administrative tone. A singing bird says, "Good-bye, I'm taking wing. The sky is my refuge from description. The divine details create uncertainty in my grand plan."

Khmer children bleed water.

ROUGE: a rainbow with the smell of laughing birds, clouds and rivers. Milling around.

Thank you for your attention.

Metta.

The Temple of Literature, Ha Noi.

Warrior statue, ink. Xiamen, China.

Elephant Tears

Greetings,

A girl from Argentina who arrived in Siem Reap after midnight broke down after breakfast. Tears streamed down her face. Her boyfriend stood helpless. He handed her a tissue. He didn't know what else to do. She cried and cried. He suffered in silence.

She blubbered in Spanish. "I miss mama...I miss mama. Where are we? What is this strange place? Everyone is trying to cheat us. The food is terrible. They charge extra for butter. Where's the beef? The bus scam from Thailand was long, bumpy, grumpy, expensive, a drag, a mistake, a terrible tragic drama. I can't understand the people here. O woe is me, us." She discarded a soggy tissue.

Her macho man suffered in silence. 'She's a basket case,' he thought.

They'd argued recently. About their trip, lack of good sex, decent food, hot sticky weather, poor planning, lack of planning, expenses.

'Maybe it all comes down to sex and money,' he thought. Clean and clear understanding. In Spanish or Splanglish or deeper emotional levels of complexity. 

She blew snot into another tissue. She crumpled it into a ball and dropped it on a plate glass table. It shattered under the weight of her sticky mucus. It's not what she thought it would be. Her expectations were shattered by illusionary possibilities. Her life was one big question.

She gradually composed herself. They started to leave the restaurant. They paused at the top of the stairs. It was a long way down. He whispered to her. Calming poetic words. He put his arm around her shoulder. She was frigid. Mr. Romeo had his work cut out for him and there was nothing to fix.

Metta.