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A Century Is Nothing A Century Is Nothing
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The Language Company The Language Company
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Subject to Change Subject to Change
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Ice girl in Banlung Ice girl in Banlung
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Finch's Cage Finch's Cage
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Entries in street photography (2)

Wednesday
Nov052025

Michelangelo Explains How Sapa Works

American, 50’s and married to a Hmong woman. She sews and sells in the cloth market. This is how it works, he said. The exploitation of local people in Sapa means Vietnamese own the hotels and control tour groups. Local guides make $5 a day. All the money goes to Vietnamese businesses. There’s no autonomy for minority hill tribe people.      

Tourists and travelers need to arrange individual Sapa travel plans. Be independent. This way they support the local people. Spend money directly with the locals. Tourists need to be made aware of this reality, especially when in Hanoi making plans. Most foreign visitors stay 2-3 days then out. The local government tour office controls the home-stay business and limits the economic potential of the Hmong.

I walked into the Sapa Tourist Office. A friendly fat Vietnamese man in a suit sat behind a big clean teak desk. He assumes I’m a new arrival. We chat about Sapa.

Can I make home stay arrangements with the Hmong?

Alarm bells exploded his round passive face. Oh no! You mustn’t do that. Years ago we had trouble. A foreigner did that and ended up missing in some village. He was killed.

Wow, really.

Yes, we expect foreigners to make arrangements through us. They have to be careful dealing with the local people. We have a responsibility for visitors, thinking they are Noble Savages.

I see. Thanks.

He looked at his big fake gold watch. Time for lunch. Let’s Eat. 

 

 

Buy Day Mountain by Light

A Sapa park loves baby red roses. A fractured historical liberation statue is dusty. The neglected fountain has brackish water.

Six Red Dzao women talk with threaded samples on the ground.

Do you want to buy from me, said one, smiling her golden teeth.

Yes, I want to buy the mountain, pointing to the rising green western forest, steel gray granite slabs, deep shaded mysterious valleys with rolling gray clouds dancing around the edges escaping from peaks toward us.

Ok, she said. I will sell you the day mountain for 10,000 and the night mountain for 10,000.

Ok, It’s a deal. We laugh in this precious moment. 

 

 

Most tourists disguised as humans do not really meet, know and understand the locals. They are in a big fat fucking hurry. Travelers are slow, involved, patient, caring, kind, curious and absorbing the lessons they need to learn.

Travelers discover, tourists find.

Time is the greatest wealth. The soul travels at the speed of a camel.

Predicting the future is hard work, said Tran. It’s a dynamic equilibrium. Natural energies play ancient drums pounding children to class, gathering laughter, echoes rise on water, diamonds rest on a bamboo leaf. Water music. Patience. Zen.

Crazy Cloud said, Trust and Innocence and Patience are guides. Cherish them.

Inner Voice said, The oracle speaks the truth. It represents clarity transcending dualities. Whatever you do: sleep, eat, rest, walk, speak, or practice silence, truth and beauty is silent. This radiant vibrant blissful song of yourself is grace, gratitude and beauty, a ray of light from beyond this world.

A Rebel said, Be the master of your own destiny. You have broken the chains of society’s repressive conditioning and opinion onions. Anybody who is not miserable looks like a stranger.

An enlightened person is the greatest stranger in the world. They do not belong to anybody. No organization, no community, no society, no nation confines them.

Playing my blues harp I blow and I draw, said Leo. I express my crazy rebellious literary intuitive instincts. I dream rainbows of light with Hmong, Dzao, Tay people walking, singing in mountains, filling air skies and hearts with their song, their stories, this symphony of voices are direct immediate sensations. Mist mountains fly into sky, a blessing with gratitude. 

Book of Amnesia Unabridged

Saturday
Sep202025

Martha’s Zen Card

I am a short story.

You are a novel.

It never occurred to Matt to buy indigenous cultural music while traveling.

Martha his girlfriend considered it essential.

Music made her edgy and alive.

When she heard music she danced.

She returned to her primitive self.

She danced naked.

Ballet. Flamingo. Tango. Cha-cha. Lambada. Waltz.

He wrote naked verbs. They loved naked. Naked cherished syllable skin music.

They wrote danced and lived like they were dead.

One day they will be. It's now or never.

They were free. It's the way to be.


Culture is what you are. Culture means you can forget.

Nature is what you can be.

People are nature's tools.

Passing through Body Sat Quiet in Asia on a three week, “Look, don’t think” holiday from frozen Europe they happened into an 8th century tourist town music repository.

They smelled music before they saw it. Seeing music is an art form. Synesthesia.

In music like life the end of the composition is not the point.

A music boy handed Matt an orange book. Write your melodic request here. Matt opened the book. A vignette floated free.

An orphan girl popped out of blank pages: I am sorry. Goodbye and good luck to you and your family. These are our famous last words. Big vocabulary. Tongues speak. Small life. Big chance. Yeah. Yeah.

The Hunger Angel watched 24/7 in the big leagues.

Sanitation workers in green environmental vests with broom music swept streets for the New Year. Make it new. Make it new.

We should be so lucky to have crystal clean sheets.

Every day is a new year.

One day is like a minute.

One minute is like a day.

That's relativity. All my relatives are dead.

Never trust an atom. They make up everything.

When you know what you don't know you realize character with social intelligence, integrity, humor and courage.


Courage is an unknown word in our head and heart. Running away is our way. Every day I have the blues. No one loves me but my mother and she could've been lying too.

You absolve in the rhythm when you have adequate life experience.

Silence and hunger are identical naked twins.

Fear and Ignorance produce Expectation & Greed.

I am good at two things:

Eating and sleeping.

Fighting and fucking.

Laughing and crying.

Reading and writing? That's for idiots.

The less I do the fewer mistakes I make, said Insecurity.

The fewer mistakes I make the less I am criticized, said Fear.

It's easier to do nothing, said Doubt.

We know the essence of survival. Keep your fucking mouth shut.

One day, Bliss’s part-time lover said, buy me a TV.

NO.

You have a job, a mother, a 12-year old daughter, two brothers, no father and no husband. I gave you money to buy a bike for your daughter and she lost it, money for clothes, money for medicine, money for food, money for temporary naked lust and currency sobriety. You play me for a fool. You’re fucking crazy.

Her arrival was sporadic at best. She visited at 8:37 for a shower, fucking and another shower.

He explored her lips, thin neck, small ears, crest of skin throat, narrow brown shoulders, pinpoint breasts with tongue talk, flat belles letters, long legs and played his way into her valley of potential.

He loved giving her oral pleasure.

Edging rose lips long and deep.

Slow sweet.

Little man in a boat sang, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

She reciprocated playing his bone flute.

Riding the pony, priming her G spot grinding hard and fast she exploded with precision and extra ambition whispering, Give me a baby. Give me a baby.

He deferred chromosomes. Fat fucking chance, there's no way under the tropical son I'll give you anything but short time, money, temporary love and the high hard one in your strike zone with runners in scoring position.

Here’s the pitch.

She stayed until 9:45 and left for work at an upscale spa wearing aromatic Grecian urns. He gave her 20 bones. Feed me.

Familiarity breeds contempt.

Get out of my life, said Telepathy. You are subservient and I am stupid to put up with this shit. He creased her indifference into a cumulus cloud. It rained goodbye and good luck.

She sat on the bed with her back to him. Sniffle, sniffle.

Her fake tears formed rivers named Regret and Hopelessness and Indifference.

Fish behind twelve Lao dams to provide electricity to Thailand fed 60 million Asians downstream in deltas.


His NO created black-eyed daggers. They stabbed him with hatred, loss, self-pity, violence and starvation. Revenge is best served cold with DNA.

They put on death masks.

Your mask eats your face.

They walked out into tropical heat. Separate directions.

Waves of loneliness shuffled down a broken street. Children dying of malnutrition at a health clinic on the coroner of Hope cried as desperate mothers received free blue placebos.

The day after tomorrow belongs to orphans and lucky losers with Wabi-Sabi.

Wabi - the beauty of the most ordinary circumstances and objects.

Sabi - feel one's own sharp existence.

Martha and Gratitude danced through life.