eat shit and die bremer!

so the troublemakers are making trouble. maybe hakim wasnt exactly like, leader of the year, but look what numbnuts sit in thrones in the u.s. and other places. m. is so right, the u.s. is just making things all wrong when they could be actually helping rebuild... letting the people who are iraqi do it would be a good start! duh... and bremer is on a beach suckin pina coladas and staring at chicks asses while this is going on? geeez! fire that fucker now!!!! fire him with an rpg! grrrr. okay, now for something a bit lighter, i havent posted recent letters. just too personal. not ' that' kind of personal, we dont do that... just you know, money, job and survival plans. and what to do with my babies. they sense something is up. felines are so sensitive... he sez bring all of them! an animal lover after my own heart. cant live without em type like me. so much to say but i hate long-winded entries, save it for another day...

purrs and grrrs

a month old letter arrives. it soothes me with purrs of love and romance. no flowery stuff, just the real thing in a real man. salam's dad gets his whiskey ripped off and the house molested. buy your own damn whiskey puke! doesnt anybody tell them to keep thier hands to themselves? isnt that like, worse than looting? bad enough they crash through cuz some men are working in the kitchen. was that a jealous neighbor giving a 'tip off'? god salam, be careful... your family too. and river... oh sweet river... start a coalition of the sane!

praying

i posted a confession in here a while back and yanked it. d. made me nervous... you never know who might be looking he sez... well, life is an open book for some, a closed one for others. i prefer the pages to get some air, instead of locked up on a shelf where only the author has the priviledge to take a voyeuristic peek. i am in love with a man. he stole my heart 20 some years ago, i worshipped him as the ideal guy. and now we have found each other. we love mutually, we long mutually, we wait mutually... he is in baghdad. he patrols and does checkpoints. he gets shot at. he has come to love the iraqis. he gives the kids the toys i send and his iraqi friends give him cheap valium to get him through the nights. i have yet to walk through the gates of hell that wait my departure. i live in a world that is not my own. i conform, i give in , i keep my mouth shut...i 'quit my bitchin and get in the kitchen'... pray he gets home safe, pray i do too...

comic relief (?)

i just had to get away from the bummer stuff. (well, this could be viewed as an incredulous bummer!) i ask a young lady i teach, "do you say i love you to your fiance?" she says, "(teeheee) of course not!(teehee)" i ask, "how about, i miss you?" (he is living in another town quite far from here in order to make enough money so they can afford to get married) she answers, "no, i dont say those things, i'm japanese." i jump to the door this morning when the post lady comes. (she has 2 letters from baghdad in her hands, yipee!!) i know her casually, small community, i taught her niece and nephew... she says, " wow, you have fantastic tits!" (huh? i am a terminal 'A' cup) she reaches out for a feel! this woman, i dont even know her name is feeling me up! she says, "are you wearing a bra?" (i'm not, maybe i should have!) and then in for another feel! and she says again, "you got great tits!" so they cant say i love you but will touch a stranger's breasts... i will never understand. east is east and west is west... go figure..

pure silence

i cant write anything tonight. i cant talk when i am sobbing, and the snot is running in to my mouth... so rivers' problem is not yours you might say. she cant even leave the house to buy eggplants without an escort!?! i wish all the fundamentalists from cults, sects, religions and just plain whackos, would meet in thier own versions of hell and have it out with each other and leave the rest of us the fuck alone!!!! i keep telling myself, 'thy will be done'... mashallah, mashallah... rumi jumps out and grabs me... 'a certain sufi tore his robe in grief, and the tearing brought such relief, he gave the robe the name faraji, which means ripped open or happiness, or one who brings the joy of being opened. it comes from the stem, faraj, which also refers to the genitals, male and female. his teacher understood the purity of the action, while others just saw the ragged appearance. if you want peace and purity, tear away the coverings. this is the purpose of emotion, to let a streaming beauty flow through you. call it spirit, elixir, or the original agreement between yourself and god. opening into that gives peace, a song of being empty, pure silence.'

duped

cops and detectives in and out all morning. geez! i live out in the sticks. the surroundings are scenes of natural splendor, ocean, mountians, hot springs... a tourist area but so few of them actually come down this far. most folks are over 65, have never locked thier doors, much less imagine someone might actually come in unannounced and steal thier cash. it is a cash-based society. everybody has a stash of it in the house somewhere, usually in the desk drawer or the family alter. so this guy comes to the door yesterday. he says he needs to go behind the house to do some work. he is holding that black and yellow tape they use to cordon off stuff. he looks clean and smiles. he asks if the neighbor is home (the landlord). i could shoot myself in the foot but i say no, they are out right now. (i would never do this in my native land, we are trained.. 'stranger danger'... ask questions, never give out information...) but the landlord has a pretty regular stream of worker types coming and going, we had a lot of rain and landslides last week, so i stupidly say, "yeah sure go ahead." well, it would appear this fucker was casing the place for his break-in. jimmied the lock with a screw driver, and made off with the cash. i rent the "homestead", just next door. the landlord built himself a big fancy house with a real yard... one of the only houses around that could be called 'big and fancy'. and they are never home during the day. i wouldnt say 'serves you right', but maybe you coulda been a little more humble... surely they feel violated though. yeah...me too.

the dove is flying

my head is a rotten tomato and my heart is a dead bird in a ravenous cat's mouth. salam was there with all the details already this a.m. ( and i get up before anybody else out here ya know..well, with the exception of oceania, that is where the sun really rises...) no mail...has he gone to help? i almost hope so, being a cool headed man, not a pimply-faced boy. i remember he said before deploying, it was good there were a few guys in the unit who were actually experienced veterans who knew a thing or two about keeping thier head... but that is totally beside the point when an entire nation of people are in the very real throngs of chaos of a relentless nature. i went to clear my head (i gave up on the kick-ass shit and returned to the cheap, canned 'sparkling liquor', meaning the cheap-ass beer with a 5.5% alcohol content) i went down to that bridge in the dark. a rustling in the bamboo, i know it is just a critter... and a downy feather floats to my hand... there are no birds out at this time of nite. is it from the 'dove'? you know... the one we attach our hopes and prayers to? well, i am putting this feather in a very special place, my heart...

kill the demon

i tried really hard to get anesthetized on the only drug available. i start with kick-ass french-canadian beer... and move on to the not so kick-ass 'kill the demon' rice wine... i give up. love is the only drug that can kill this demon...

caged tiger

pacing the cage... they have a saying here, (probably ripped off from china) that even if a tiger travels a thousand miles, it always returns to it's own turf. but somewhere along the way, there is always a chance some travelling circus might trap you and throw you in a cage. they tempt you with the finest steaks and antelope rump and you sniff unwittingly into the snare. and then the training begins. at first you are crazy with anger, you want to chew off the hand that feeds you... you hate the trainer. but you jump through a few hoops and they stroke your ego just enough to make you try again, and again and again... till one day you wake up and you dont care about the bars anymore. you are placated by the strokes and sumptuous meat. but one night, you hear a call. a call you know is too far off to really hear, but your spirit hears the howl. it is the howl of your mate. the sound travels beyond sound, you howl in response... the howls grow louder and louder... until you rip at the bars... you plot, you scheme, you await the chance for escape...

the waiting

we put all our eggs in that basket, one by one... carefully so they dont crack. wrap them in tender words... we store them in a cool dry place, its not time for breakfast yet... watch the days go by... another week ... another month... the nights are for lovers who never tire of one another... when dawn breaks and the mist rises from the lakes and rivers, we stir awake... to make the best love a man and woman can ever know.

kismet central

what is it with this non-stop kismet?!! i guess i begged too many times for confirmations on intuitions, now the floodgates open up!!! well, this is one very grateful pilgrim... so it goes like this, they are on a roll cuz it is WW11 end memorial season. its a documentary about m.p.'s in harpin ordered to search and read all in-coming and out-going mail. it was called, 'the letters never delivered'. when a government/regime gets paranoid they give dumb orders like that. it is called paranoid delusional or something. p.u.! i smell a neo-con! but we bow down to the cybergod who gives us zamisdata... there is no stopping us now!!!

remembering the dead

well, take a deep breath. crisis and emergency abound. kismets fly like birds to friendlier climes... its festival of the dead now, they come back to be respected and entertained...hiroshima and nagasaki were bombed just before and during this 'festive' time. you can imagine it is 'lets remember hiroshima nagasaki marathon' night... i need sodium replacement after all the tears it causes... but i go to my thinking bridge to see the torrential rain flood waters dumped from the heavens today. all those dead merry makers must have been so dissappointed this year. in contrast to europa, there is no summer here this year, rather a 3 month long rainy season.the gods cry over asia while the devils scorch over europa and tweak the power in the eastern seaboard. we americans! can you imagine if it was 120 in the shade and the power went out? we are so spoiled... i know how i whined over that pit toilet, no hot running water, and spiders the size of your hand in that 2 room shack up the side of a bloody mountain... at the same time the bond grows deeper as the days go by. we talk of plans and dreams... we grow so deep in the bond of the heart, a fine golden thread of love and understanding weaves a cloth of the finest texture of joy... a poem writes on the breeze at the top of the trees that sings of life in love and togetherness... should i feel guilty? i dont think so...

reality vs. fantasy

well, i took one end of the world beer with me. called out to celebrate the dead festival. (not the 'grateful dead' of garcia fame, but some may be grateful...) the storyteller was there. and damned if the kismet didnt spark me again... recurring theme ya know... he starts to tell of his youth. this guy lost his father in p.i. during WW11... raised way out in the country in a village with only 2 cars. but the village had 2 movie theatres. one specializing in movies from the west. he hid the money he was supposed to use for the yearly school excursion in the cracks of his room and snuck out at night to see movies with errol flynn and the likes. kiss scenes and chivalry he cant fathom... stuff that makes his blood boil in more places than he can fathom... sent off to deeper countryside for incorrigable behaviour.(sneaking out to see movies) he is an outsider so joins the art club. the art teacher insists he needs life drawing classes. ah, women have such delicate egos too dont ya know. the teacher talks the young female student down to only panties. this guy and his bud were sweating so hard they couldnt see. his fondest erotic memories are of her bare shoulder he has never touched. then he tops it off with a story about a girl who called for him when he was 16. she was getting married to another guy (those were the days when most marraiges were arranged). one day she shows up and begs him to run away with him. twice she begged him. he says no. he couldnt understand. women are women from a young age. when do men grow up? he meets her 40 years later at a reunion and both of them stand there, she is crying. he is speechless. they shake hands and part, never to meet again. is there a man who is more thrilled by the conquest than the chase? isnt the real thing far more beautiful than the fantasy? i dont want the fantasy, i need the reality...

beers and beauties

there is one little perk to being a pseudo-expat, you on a rare occasion get to meet other gaijin who come here for one reason or another from all walks of life and places. they bring beauty and laughter into your house that beams from the heart... you test the waters political waters by confirming is it cnn or not... oh, the love of beautiful things shines through a couple who bring talk of a sailing mars party in bali... they also bring some kick-ass beer called 'eau benite' and 'la fin du monde'.... which probably means i will come in here twice tonight...drunk... drunk on love, the end of the world, and pure water...

i am so sorry

g, i am so sorry. i am so ashamed and saddened... who gives the orders anyway?!!! why didnt they at least try to listen to you??? dumb fuckin stupid-ass jerkland overworked kids!!! my brother (ex-nuke submarine) has an expression when he takes his daily shit... 'i am going to give birth to an officer'...

dear walt disney,

so it is dinner time after two days of plasticine overnight guests and he wants to watch, 'walk down disney memory lane' with dinner... i am like, can we rpg the dipshits in mickey suits? but i go along with it cus he sez, "It reminds me of my childhood"... so i say oh, well then lets by all means watch it! (i meant it, i wasnt being a sarcastic bitch like i am so good at...) it turns out to be all the goddamn snow white/ cinderella/ someday my prince will come/ love songs of all the disney movies ever made!!! well damn if i didnt get those damn sentimental strings strummed... but god it is so good to have my head screwed on straight to long for that which is to be, not what will never be.... thanks walt... for giving a little girl a dream of a prince... because he will come...soon...

masquerade

thank god for natural acting skills. i ought to be paid... and paid good... well, it looks like i will get that pension after all. you know, there is a kind of person who thrives on adventure, passion, love, romance...if those things exist in life, the world is heaven on earth...you have the guts to grab life by the groin and run with it...you thrive on the sparkplug that feeds your machine... you know only death can break the bond... but you put on the mask cuz that is the fate you were given, you become the actor, the jester, the fool... the queen, king and the footsoldier too. and you wait in the dark and you wait in the day... you know the time will come when you will never be far away...

the 'm' word

your heart races and your breath is shallow... you cant eat and you cant sleep...but you are a powerhouse of energy! the blood of love that pumps through your heart and brain is fiery hot and your hands are trembling... you know what he will say before he says it. and he knows what you will say before you say it too... you know he will be there to pick up every bean you spill... all is right with the universe tonight! a thousand rebel yells for love! yeesssssss!!!!!

typhoon

the weather gods blow over a monster typhoon that lands on, drifts off, lands on, drifts off, and back on again, never giving up the typhoon status... the mail gods send a letter from baghdad with a golden bracelet... never had a man buy me gold... the god of gods send word from R.... embrace the madness honey, never forget the one in charge, not for a second... i stepped in the confessional booth today... will it scare him away or bring him running? can only wait and see. i have the gut feeling he will not be scared...

thinking

there is a bridge near here i go to think in the dark. it is really dark when there is no moon. the frogs do thier love chant. they inspire me, make me lonely, make me happy... salam found sean. good... this is good. fuck the suits who think they run the show! they dont 'have a clue'. they really think they are in charge. but we know different. some day salam, we will see you in a place that welcomes tourists. the pilgrims who long to worship in holy places... the black, white and brown kind who go to show thier ladies where they were and reminisce. "i bought that water pipe in that stall"... "there's where my buddy fell"... they will show us pictures and go all glassy-eyed with memories of thier hardships...and the bonds they made. damn, it is time to stop making people hate us. paranoia is very real and drives man to make rash decisions to save his own ass... i have been accused of being 'brainwashed' for having patriotic feelings, and here i am technically an expat... maybe it is time to go back...looks like the day of reckoning is drawing near...or will i end up in new zealand after all?

sentimentality

i sweat my face off weed whacking for the rich asshole today. man, he aint done nuthin on his own.. rich folk, they always expect some flunky to clean up after them. oh well, he pays me so i shouldnt complain, eh? i thought i oughta get in here before the sake buzz wears off... they romanticize sentimentality to the extremes in this place. (but what do i get ragged on the most about? going to extremes!) it is the sentimental of what you lost that is so ...oh shit... what is the english word anyway!!!?... elevated...! they elevate the stuff you dont have above the stuff you do have. isnt that like wearing your underwear backwards? well, i am sick of it. the front wedgy might get you off for a while but in the very long run it just wears a rash in the wrong place. pass me that sledgehammer so i can smash the karaoke machine!

bummed out

what am i supposed to say when he says, why are you so angry? everytime i am not the cheerful smiling wifey i get that. the news bummed me out, m's letter bummed me out. when is it okay to be bummed out? his friend is dying, he can be bummed out about that. hey! that bums me out too! the fool, he worked himself to the brink and has three little kids he will leave behind. why do people think work is so fucking important? it is like we are all under some kinda universal brainwashing to be consumers while our material desires are consuming us. like the snake eating his own tail. why cant everything just be free? i makea da good tomatoes, you makea da good computer, we makea da good music together! i know i am being a major simpleton.... i am just bummed out. some days are better than others, eh? well, a ray of golden sunshine did come into my life thru the cyber wire, a hot ticket lady... thanks honey! love hearing from you! love your honesty above all! lets make beautiful music for the worlds weary ears to hear! no boat till the weekend and a typhoon on the way. and unwanted overnite guests on the weekend to boot. chicken one day and feathers the next. hey! be cheerful kris, thats your job! see, i am smiling and laughing... choking back the tears...

a letter!

a letter! with a photo!!! and it only took twelve days! it is some kinda postal miracle! he sounded so angry...can you blame him? hey bush! did you know they hate yer sorry ass? getting r&r in germany soon! i feel a phonecall is brewing. be still my beating heart! out on the boat all day and boozing all night...diversion central but nothing diverts me from m...

karma

after a day on the boat and a day of long overdo domestic hypermulti-tasking, i take a break here to unwind. isnt that what this is all about anyway? g. in bahdad finally posted! and what a beautiful post.. the uday lounge....god.... what KINDA corrupt fuckers are running the shows while we the peons take the fucking raspberries and rotten tomatoes? i give praise to the cyber god! praise be its almighty power to change the world! informed people of the world unite! i'm on a roll here, where can we take it and how do we organize it? blogs.... but shelf that for a while, i came in here to unwind...that seems impossible though on that very real very intense high you get from feeling like you are REALLY alive every second. D. and i have talked a lot about that. you cant fight it, you would be fool to anyway. that cutting edge of the warrior spirit that compells you to act. sometime you almost feel like a bystander to a mission of karma that must be played out. i have lotsa bad case scenerios in my mind but i cant let them stop me. the one i worry about the most is DU dust. but if that be the case then so be it. karma... god, this is not unwinding at all! this is like screwing the screw in just a little too tight....ouch! but i am blessed to know who is turning the screwdriver. give it all honey, give it all...