smell

Greetings,

I love the smell of Cambodian garbage and rubbish in the morning. It is a sweet sick smell.

Did you know the nose has trillions of sensors? It's one of the most highly developed human senses. This delicious aroma wafts through the air on ballet slippers. Why do you love the smell of garbage and rubbish in the morning? It reminds me of human consumption and dancing dervishes in Konya. Where is Konya? It is in Turkey. Turkey is a tomato based culture with a long history between east and west. Sniff.

Really? How is it possible to live between east and west? Well, they have an Asian side and a European side, like a double edged sword. One edge of said sword is fired to a fine point in Asia with Chinese propaganda tools. The other side of said sword is forged near Greece by Amazonian warrior women. 

They wear sunglasses and ride around in horse drawn carts finding tomatoes, natural gas (a buy product of consumption) expired optical dioramas and an emotionally withdrawn fictitious computer hacker named Salander in Sweden.

Can you show us the connection between: the smell of garbage in Cambodia, Konya, Turkey, a computer hacker and one breasted Amazonian warrior women? The mathematical uncertainty principle is an equation.

Metta.

798

Greetings,

Living in a huge art museum we can never escape art. Where does the artificial end and the real begin?

798 is a district in Beijing where artists collaborate and present their vision, similar to the Left Bank or Greenwich Village.

798...

Wu Yuren, an artist who led a public protest over land thieves was recently arrested. “You don’t realize how arcane this system is until you have to deal with it,” Ms. Patterson, his wife said. “It’s a nightmare.”

NYT

Metta.

Painting

Greetings,

'A mountain loses its spirit without cloud, loses its peculiarity without stones, loses its elegance without trees, and loses its life without water, and In painting, one should concentrate the mind, and hold the breath: with concentration of the mind, serenity is maintained; with the breath held up, preciseness is attained.

'One should be as serene as an old monk in meditation, and be as precise as a silk worm in spitting silk. The spirit and real fun of painting are from nature and beyond the brushes and paints.' - Chinese painter

Metta.

Mr. Neanderthal

Greetings,

Mr. Neanderthal swaggered down the middle of a no-name street in a no-name Vietnamese town with his long time little local squeeze. She was smaller than an astroid with long hair wearing charcoal pajamas and low heels. Her face was sad, neglected and resigned to her passionate and economic fate on a fair trade mission.

Mr. N wore flowered bermuda shorts and green flip flops. He was naked from the waste up. Swirling tattoos danced on his dark torso. His arms extended in heavy duty weight lifter macho style like an simian alpha male tribal posture.

Me big. Me strong. Me have woman. Her name Jane. Me her man.

They'd sold their car to buy food, diamonds and extra passports. They were on foot. They needed transport. He whistled for a motorcycle. They went to a haberdasher. They rented clothes. He found a suit of armor. She found a gown.

They went to a history museum. He accepted her arm standing on the stairway to heaven. She was radiant in her expectations. After the reception at sea level they cleaned a magnificent house resembling a wedding cake. They raised pigs and chickens and lived happily ever after. They took out the garbage and the pigs ate well. 

Metta.

Arrested development

Greetings,

You know life is fraught with the unexpected hammering of stone cold ice when a Tibetan environmental activist gets arrested for teaching people to pick up litter and plant trees in Sichuan, China.

His demise came when he accused a local Chinese big shot official of poaching. Poaching is a no-no. Talking about big shots poaching is a no-no. Picking up litter is a no-no. Planting trees is a no-no.

The No-No chattering xylophone, said, Let's teach this Tibetan wise guy a lesson. His henchmen concurred. Track him down. Arrest him. Charge him with trash collection and gardening offense #101. Call the judge. Tell him to sentence this monk to 5 years of hard labor with no chance of parole.

Mr. Trumped Up Charge judge, jury, and a very close friend and economic confident of Mr. Local Big Shot performed his Social duty. "You are charged with splitting the nation!" 

What? Planting trees isn't splitting the nation. Picking up trash isn't splitting the nation, said Rinchen Samdrup.

Oh, really? said the judge. Let me see. Ok, how about poaching? Yes. It's all hear say. You said my friend the local big shot was poaching. You lied. He loves his country and all the animals. If you lied about his poaching to make huge financial profits from leopards, tigers, bears, eagles, antelopes and stolen male babies, how can this court in all fairness find you innocent of planting trees and picking up trash?

I'm innocent. No. You are guilty. You are an environmentalist. You want to split the nation. You are a bad boy. I sentence you to 5 years. Bye-bye. 

The judge whispered to the prison warden, Fill up his cell with trash and trees. 

Metta.

Reuters...