Interesting day in paradise - went to extract money from the magic machine in a foreign land to pay rent in my overpriced moldy villa and was told “pin length characters exceeded” - a message i’d read earlier in a cloistered fb site for expats and paid little attention to · but this was rent day, which i do pay attention to. I headed for the local foreigner’s bistro to get the lowdown and was blown off on the way by my visa broker when i stopped for any information he might have. Information is gold, and i learned at the bistro through judicious inquiry it was a transient fault circulating through the ATM networks; ultimately i gained 3 new fb friends i’d shared air with - always the preferably species of virtual friends. Had another bowl of Pho from an imaginative local artist’s adaptation to the economic downturn and found myself stretching the limits of propriety, by questioning the foundation of wealth with a youngster retiree local who made a killing in my next-to-last occupation, Commercial Real Estate.
I found in my last occupation herding dead people’s estates through the corrupt probate process at the L.A. Superior Courthouse that any job that linked me to public relations was probably not a good fit - in less than an hour i manage to antagonize the nice enough young man with my concerns about real estate speculation and its deleterious effect on local economies as well as disparage the whole concept of “Greed is Good;” from there it only got worse as i explained to the kindly landlady that i would not be staying because the “bare minimum” maintenance schedule that rendered my roof permeable and home a mold swamp was not someplace i’d like to stay. It was not a happy morning in the world heritage site i live in, now reeling from 13 consecutive typhoons, and a population accustomed to the “boom or bust” tobacco economies of early Virginia.
The smartest thing i’ve done with these chronicles is to de-couple from the immediate anxiety i might feel to the actual existential threat we as a species face. My personal tribulations are relatively inconsequential given the nature of extinction - it is more than comforting to veer from my own whining to the more manly occupation of saving our species from its own stupidity. I own more than my fair share stupidity - that uniquely human trait and when i say “more” than my fair share, i mean i’ve wasted far too much time listening to the shrill and unnecessarily unkind self talk devaluing mine own worthy and decent objectives thus diverting positive energy from worthy contribution to our mutual survival. You don’t have to agree with my thinking, nor do i accept the devaluation of other’s narrow concepts of “right and wrong.” To give you an idea of how distorted my own personal cues have become, when the yelp of some winsome expat squeeze bemoaned the “caveman look” on a fb page, i nearly took the bit in hand to believe it was personal, rather than another frightened human being attempting to control their environment by dictating appropriateness for others.
This squirt with her likely long legs and carefully cultivated “come hither” command of each and every semen donor in her nightly romps in the “2-kewl-4-school-hipster-doofus-venues” i’m sure she frequents to assuage her wounded feminine mystique, got my goat enough for me to comment here and now - though not enough to engage her “Karen” thinking more than to self-soothe my own wounded vanity that she is likely blind to, and therefore freed from any wound these words might cause. More to the point would be my taking an opportunity during my exit interview with the kind-hearted but profit-hungry landlord to defamed my struggling neighbor for raising the sidewalk cement in front of his entryway such that it deflected mud from any deluge to settle in front of her property, rather than finding a mutually beneficial evacuation for all - his behavior to my thinking, was selfish and consistent with his _rump loyalty and my discomfort in his presence.
It is this fortunate choice to learn through writing about my own behavior using the lens of “others” i am most grateful for; it supports a program of transforming my own personal wounds into thinking that will aid in reducing the suffering of all i encounter while training my mind to the ultimate conclusion of passing with peace for any who witness my demise. If i am lucky; i will be alone and none will be affected by my confusion about the transition - if i am less lucky, but still within range, I will be in the “saddle” so to speak and the woman i am ejaculating into will see love and compassion in my funny looking eyes mixed with tenderness as i expire; if i have no luck left to me whatsoever, i will die defending my right to breathe from someone who had mistaken my gentleness as forbearance and had attempted to take by force something that is only mine to relinquish and was facing the full force and fury of one who loves life and was entirely unwilling to cede ground to greed or hate.
jts 19/11/2020
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