Gratitude

A forest outside my new room.

Evergreens towering into sky. Crow calls at 6. Wake up! Wake up!

Sunburst over the Black Sea.

The flat is high in hills.

Fresh sea air.

Trabzon lies near the sea. On the sea. Greek, Roma life, ancient fort, walls, steps.

People share curious greetings, ah, so you know Turkey from 2007?

Dancing spoon glass

Wandering old roman stone streets early light,

Fruits, veggies, 28 olive varieties, raisins, tomatoes, cheeses, fish in food heaven.

Feels great being anonymous, ghost, blessed to be here now

Hospitality is slow.

Imagine the day.

Gestures.

Time machine.

See through eyes, not with eyes.

Zen way Tao.

Acceptance and gratitude.

dance becomes you

Her long legs reached the ground.

As she bent over the green pool table lining up her stick on the cue angling Cambodia, her short black skirt ran higher. She killed time waiting for her Algerian honey.

Bank the 8 ball, side pocket.

Spontaneous - jazz - breath

Other told kid friends he was marrying Turkey for 52 days.

You are a witness.

The absurd metaphorical theatre.

Dance is process. BECOMING.

Reality is the funniest jest thing happening.

Impossible to take any of this seriously.

You don't _____ through thought but through experience.

New crystal.

Close edit.  Living (existing) in a culture of fear.

Living in Non-Memory land.

New paths, new directions.

All the "masked" humans investigate potentials and possibilities.

My work here is complete.

Have ink will travel. Zen. 

white rice on red mud road

Not here very long. Long enough.

Orphan Traveler had sex with the V woman. She knows how.

Write a poem about white rice on a muddy red road.

Sparrow footprints. Discover shade.

What is it called when you give everything away to receive everything?

My joy is finished here, he said to no one in particular on a particular day pausing in mid sentence to refrain from finishing so he wouldn't have to begin again with a fresh thought in Siem Reap of all geographies with its own set of dutiful problems, 80% is under 45.

What happened to the others, the blind deaf and stupid ones? They were executed they were driven out of the capital into the countryside and forced to do labor eat dirt watch everyone die remaining silent, silent is good much ado about nothing whispered a cell phone ghost goodbye and good luck to your family.

Confirmed. Discover a place for the firs retire. First time.

Discover Beauty infield single in failed journeys.

Beauty of travel

The beauty of travel is the anonymouse sensation in a crowd.

On a Sunday all the Khmer men gather for coffee, tea and stories.

Do you take milk with your stories, asked one. No, straight.

Some study another's face and words.

Others study cell phones or the unposed their music video on a tv.

TV is great, said one, it allows you to give up your consciousness.

Still others study a conversation disguised as a peddler pulling his trash cart

Down a street squeezing air out of a worn plastic bottle to summon the attention of a person waiting to hear the air knowing they can pawn some junk, perhaps an old family heirloom or weaver's word loom in Lao village along a river stream of consciousness.

Or a real loom with or without threads of a dangling modifier; cotton or silk having created clothing for relatives now since gone.

The silence of conversations attracts flies.

No one bothers the stranger writing or drawing in a notebook. 

take amazing risks

More Cambodians and Burmese own a cell phone than have a toilet.

Welcome to the entertainment capital of the world!

The science of imaginary solutions that regulate exceptions.

To do amazing things you have to take amazing risks.

Bolano: "he didn't believe in countries and the only borders he respected were: Borders of dreams - musty borders of love & indifference."

Borders of courage or fear - golden borders of ethics.

"To never be polite again." Camus on outrages we inflict.

Acting as a fundamental form of existence.

To be natural with a mask. My mask is eating my fAce.

The entire universe is a vast theatre.

"Black and white are the colors of photography." - Frank