Morning. I am not doing a qi gong class with Rod, but do a different Qi Gong at the park with folks that are also members of the Green Papaya Sangha. Tomorrow night is sangha night and the group will be going to Dash’s for dinner…. A choice. I will go to Dash’s and make sure the reservation is correct. Order soup and leave for Sangha.
The morning class in the park is the same time as the AA meeting. Mostly westerns and mostly men around the table.
In the pagoda at the park, a young western man was doing Tai Chi and along the exercise path at the fence people were lifting their body weight on various public stations.
Parents were walking with cell phone gaze and children, unattended, scampered and fell, cried for a second, and then all moved on.
It is a day in the park
Traffic. Driving around the city is a challenge. In Thailand for the holiday are 400k Chinese, 200k Malaysian, and 100K Indonesian. It is my theory that as they prosper enough to afford to travel, in their minds they become nouveau rich and own the sidewalks and streets. Interesting about side-walk as in walk to the side, not happening. I would like to see some kind of a check about having a scooter license or having a certification that you at least know that you drive once on the street or pull to the side of the road to check the way. Also, not happening. You have money, you have a scooter. You have a scooter and fell that you own the center of your universe then you just stop where you want and when you want and the person behind must be mindful and grateful to be in your universe and hope to stay alive and in one piece as they drive around your space.
Writing. Last night I had an ok dinner at an uptown place. Rooms – 40sqm were 6500+455 VAT and 650 service charge (7650 per night). I pay 284 a night and that includes my scooter. So, I could stay in this place that looks like a high-end Holiday Inn for 4.5 nights (ok, it has a bathtub and an electric safe) or my little teak bungalow for 4 months. Mmmm I also listened to folks talk about writing. I use to give my Mom 10 books for the holiday that I thought would help her know me or the world I live in. One year, I gave her Langston Hughes and in a few weeks, she gave it back. She just could not read the language – both the vulgarity and the writing style which focused on writing for his people. I loved the language.
“What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun?... Or does it explode?”
My mother was a spot on speller and should have been an English teacher. I drove her quite crazy with my continue scribble in some illegible penmanship and wordsmith. She would try to redo my writing into good form text and type it out. She believed she was doing me a favor but I stopped writing for a long time. Now I see that many people who are great with grammar and proper text are dull and nothing snaps you to attention when you read the blah blah. They are editors but can’t vomit new ideas. They know right, but can’t do good. There is some really exciting literature that is spot on with the grammar. It feels like you are crawling through a soft tunnel and then dropped into a cold pond… your heart beats and you are alive in the text.
I went to poetry readings and heard just words.. and the beat… as in beat generation. I had too much family and Catholic school and white skin to belong… but I could understand and enjoy the words floating about punctuated with expletives. It made my heart beat. I started to keep a little book of thoughts and phases that just came to me… I strung some together and wrote poetry and trained myself with haiku.
I am grateful for the 10 days of feeling lost. I just don’t want to be safe and with annoying people. Shoppers.. tourist, mindless, moving from one day to the next. If I had a million dollars, I would not say in a $200 a night bed.
I don’t know how much time I have, but I will live and write and dream every day.. and hopefully swim a little also.
No comments:
Post a Comment