First Attempt at Teaching

When I first moved to China it was fun to check my bank account balance, just to see the number multiplied by 8, ( Dollars to RMB ) but as it slid away the reality of getting a job started to sink in. Without too many options and only an Associates degree I figured that Teaching English was my best shot. Threw together a resume with anything that related to working with kids or that I thought made me look smart or at least competent.

After sending out a good 20 emails I got an interview with a group called Yulun Education, they contracted out their curriculum and Foreign teacher's to primary schools across Shanghai. We got on well and I had my first job Teaching English, it was an hour on the Metro both ways, followed by a motorcycle taxi to the school. They fixed me up with a cubicle in the English Teacher's office and I did my best a pretending I had a clue what I was doing. (this could be why I was some what paranoid that the Chinese Teacher's didn't trust me)

My students were grades 1-2 with around 30 kids to a class. We did lots of Simon Says/Hangman and I always worked hard at coming up with fun games or props. Mainly it was crowd control, thirty 8 year olds are easy to get out of control and once their gone it can be nearly impossible to get them back. Bribery by stickers worked at the start, but the naughty ones who never got stickers just seemed to get worse, giving up on the idea of getting rewards and venting some frustration at that. The best approach I found was to split them into 3 teams based on their rows of seating. If the row as a whole was listening and participating they got points if even a member of the row was being disruptive they all lost points. Teams with most points were rewarded. This had the students policing eachother, where before a naughty student was a pain in the teacher's side that all the students could enjoy, he was now a pain in their sides and they kept eachother in check far better than I ever could.

After a semester of 1-2nd graders I picked up a 2 week summer camp for $1,500. These were highschool students. They were a lot of fun and because it was a summer camp the atmosphere was pretty easy going, at least in my classroom. Chinese students are under an unbelievable level of stress from the demands of school and parents, many taking up to 6 extra classes outside of school. We talked about song lyrics, the suicide bombings in London (with a few students saying they thought it was good.) I even got them to do a performance of Bob Marlely's 3 little birds for the closing ceremony. Teaching older students was rewarding in that they were able to express themselves and at an age of transition with their ideas.

Next was my final stop a Kindergarten not far from where I lived. My salary went up to $15/hr I went to school for Chinese in the morning and worked the afternoon. My jaw dropped when they first put me in front of some BABIES! (They could hardly stand up forget talk) Apparently my job was to talk to them...After a while they actually started catching on.

The Kingergarten had a few levels the oldest being 7 year olds they were fun to work with and aside from being able to read in Chinese and English some were doing multiplication and even long division AT AGE 7! The job was hands down the best I've had to date, my salary was great around $1600/month for 30+ hours a week, to put in perspective my 2 bedroom apartment was only $300. It's hard to take yourself seriously when you hang out with a bunch of 6 year olds all day. We played loads of games, sang songs, told jokes...There was of course a good deal of crowd control involved. Because children wear their emotions on their sleeve you were able to get instant feed back on whatever it was you threw at them. Comedians always say that's what they love about comedy, you instantly know if your doing it right. This had me always adjusting and re-adjusting to see what kept them interested and under control. It convinced me of just how much kids, adults, groups, societies can be managed and manipulated.

I had it a pretty sweet deal and always felt a little guilty that the Chinese Teacher's had to do so much more for so much less. They got there earlier, left later and had to handle an entire class through the day for only about $300 a month. That must of caused for some resentment me being like this round eyed ringer they brought in to speak some English and show off for the parents, the truth is that I was a prodcut for them to market to Chinese parents who wanted the best for their kids and were easily convinced that a foreign Teacher was just that.

The Kindergarten had another American teacher he was probably the reason why they all seemed to like me so much. He was an ex-mormon missionary who after a divorce from his Japanese wife would constantly be talking about how bad or greedy the Chinese were and how much they were out to get foreigner's. He always had stories about women that he slept with, prostitutes, random women, students moms...Once or twice women showed up at the Kindergarten claiming he got them pregnant and looking to get money out of him. Something about him just wasn't right and he was by all accounts a few screws loose.

Eventually I was offered position for $24/hr teaching at a Private school in Shanghai, (I turned it down, I'd really become attached to my students) the reference came through a Canadian Teacher I'd met at the summer camp. Networking hands down is the most important part of living well while Teaching in Shanghai. There are so many bums out there slobbing through lessons that anyone with a good reputation and some energy becomes a high demand. For anyone thinking about Teaching abroad I cannot say enough about the benefits, especially in China. Be careful with long term contracts and many of the programs that recruit you in the US are just middle men who take a good chunk of your contract.

Good luck...

Tshirts

This Chinese lady was working at a bus station in some place in China, she didn't have a clue what the shirt said. At this same bus stop there was a guy with kahkis, slicked back hair and a briefcase he had on a A 3 button shirt that said "BoneHead" in big letters across the chest. I really wish I got a picture of that one...You see loads of weird clothing in China, because they factories get orders and sometimes miss spell things or run off extras that end up being dumped into the Chinese market.
Classic backpacker
Steps of evolution ending at someone hunched over a computer with caption "Something, somewhere went terribly wrong."
Not sure if she know what this shirt meant? It says "FUCK OFF, I have Glaucoma" with a pot leaf next to it...She had also given me an awesome Thai massage at the spa in the hotel the night before. Really nice lady.
I'd love to see or hear about some other great Tshirts if anybody has some.

Street side Libations

All over Bangkok you could find great iced drinks durring the summer. I'm sure it had a lot to do with the swealtering heat, but more than that it had to do with the locals having the chance to vend on the street. Coming from Boston you don't see too much sold along the road. Aside from sausages or hotdogs and those are only in a few spots downtown. In asia people were selling food all over the place and even though they wouldn't have been passing any health inspections (no three basin sink, serve safe certificate...Bullshit) they made good food cheap and easy.

Sitting on the beach on Kho Samed in between swims you could get the best BBQ chicken I've ever had, and a fresh made papaya salad from some old ladies that literally carry around BBQ's on their backs...

There were even road side bars, just little stands with a Booze, a few coolers, some stools and raggae music that went all night.

Now I'm not saying that we should have curb side bar vans in Beantown (also not saying we shouldn't) only that all the permits and regulations really steralize the city, I prefer things a little less tidy and a little more funky.

Viva la street vendors!!!

Huang Shan, Anhui China (Yellow Mountain)

Took this trip with some friends when they came over to visit from Boston. The Hike was straight up endless stairs and it went from raining to sleeting to snowing. When we finally made it to the top there was a full on snow storm and we woke up the next morning to the first snow of the year.

I never really understood the Chinese ink paintings I would look at them and think "Mountains don't look like that." After Huangshan they seem to make sense.

One of the most memorable things for me was the fog, you would be looking at a giant cloud and a minute later it would be gone and there would be a whole other set of peaks, the the fog would come back over and they'd be gone again.

Shangrilla and MeiLi Snow Mountain

This is hands down one of the most amazing places I've been in China. From Dali you take a 10hour bus to Shangrilla than another 6hour bus to a small town with just some hostels and restaurants for hikers. At this point you are on the border to Tibet, from there on it's all by foot or on the back of a Donkey, NO TOUR GROUPS. The hike into the village took us around 7 hours and that was going at a good pace, the other people we were with took close to 9 hours. Once your in Yubong village there are only 31 families and because it takes so much effort to get into you'll find only a hand full of backpackers, more Chinese than Western. From there it's another few hour hike to the 150ft. waterfall coming down from the snow melt, the Tibetans in the area all make a pilgrimage once a year to the Mountain and the Waterfall, they run through 3 times go to a sacred cave and go back for three more turns. I could not recommend this more to anyone that makes their way to Yunnan. ps: the hike out of the village and back to a car took over 9 hours along a dessert cliff...

Shangrilla and MeiLi Snow Mountain

If your ever in the Southwest of China make the pilgrimage to MeiLi Snow Mountain. From Dali, Yunnan you take a 10hour winding bus ride to Shangrilla followed by a 6 hour bus ride to

welcome

An Introduction,
If you’ve stumbled onto the The MindGames Connection or if it stumbled on to you. Take the time to read it and see what you can find. Most are random pieces from here and there, travel bits, ideas and general ranting. Seems that good ideas can find their way to the surface this way, without a specific direction of how and why something should be expressed. Just letting it come when it comes.
All in all, the intention is to make this a continuing project, building up readers, contributers and some of your feedback along the road. For now The MindGames Connection is left in places that it might be found, maybe oneday it will be looked for...

Enjoy...

The Cyclown Circus

http://www.cyclown.org/gallery.html
I was lucky enough to catch a show in the South West of China, it was amazing to me that they were and still are biking around Asia and playing great music along the way...A very cool thing for me. Check the link

Volume 1

Longji Village Guanxi, China

Eastern Promises

The trailers for this movie had me really excited to see the film. After having seen it I can say that it was uncomfortably dissapointing...

roads

If someone had asked me a few a years ago if I would like to see my future, I’d have said “OK” and if they had shown me a picture of me standing on a street corner in Boston selling scarves I would have said “Screw you buddy.” Funny to know they were right. The turns of life can come so smoothly at times where the next one isn’t even in sight, just clear sailing straight ahead, but then you hit those slippery spots where your struggling to hang on. Recently it feels like I’m in the mountains, just working my best to get to the top of one peek just to coast downhill on the other side, still only seeing as far as the next peek ahead of me. Gets me worried not knowing what’s on the other side.
Hoping that these peeks keep getting higher and that I’m working my way up, my way “to the top.” Or could it be a range of mountains so wide that I’ll never see the end and the highest one was somewhere I’ve already rushed over so I could get to the next one. That’s what gives a little credit to idea that I could just turn around and roll along those flat simple roads with turns here and there, just not too many. Hey you could just toss the car and walk or stand your way to forever…
A gift and a curse to this life is that you’re forced to be inside of it. The best things I’ve found to do with it is explore along the way. We’re all explorers really traveling along our roads moving over different terrain. Walking along the same streets, but at the same time in totally different worlds, everything from heaven to hell is out there right now. From person to person we travel through the time in our life surrounded by it. Chasing, catching, avoiding and being caught it’s all there. Rarely we’re able to stop, to see the relation to things, the mystery, the relativity.
If someone stopped to ask me now if I’d like to see my future, I’d like to say I wouldn’t. That the road itself is the reward and the ups and downs of the mountains I’m on are a roller coaster ride to enjoy. The excitement to heat up my blood and bring me safely into a happy, healthy, hundred years. Most likely though I would and after looking in disbelief, say to the guy, “screw you buddy.”

Mika...

Ahhhh...good fun. Yes good fun
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcRiXOONqf0

Kanye West Graduation

Kanye West “Graduation”
Shine, Shine. Kaney’s music always had the confidence and it’s a big part of why so many people love the man. You move through a softer approach that I appreciate behind the beats. He’s working with new sounds, not afraid of taking chances and creating styles instead of following someone else’s. The writing comes off as honest and he opens up for a few tracks, but more than anything it’s the glory of fame and that’s what surrounds it the spotlight loves him.
As a whole it didn’t do much for me, and even though I can say it was entertaining there weren’t any “wow” moments. I respect that he’s doing what’s inside of him and trying to dig some of it out for us, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a couple years off and let some more build up before the next release, too many folks burn themselves out trying to catch the market before they create the message. Keep it going I’m still a fan…

In a Funk

I’m in a funk recently, too much drinking and not enough doing. A dark time where anything beyond moving is a chore. A time where a weakness is taking hold of my inner voice and the call to action is hardly audible. Frankly it’s disgusting, but I imagine unavoidable in many ways or a at the very least a necessary evil. Feeling good all the time detaches you from everyone else who fells like shit. Hopefully I’ll find a better balance of all this and use it to my advantage rather than letting it use me until I’m disadvantaged.
Only a few more weeks before I fly off to China and live a lifestyle that feeds my ego and softens me up at the same time. Something about not understanding most of what’s being said around you and struggling to work out sentences like a full grown preschooler with facial hair that punches you in the face with humbleness. Then you have the 2 hour massage and the advantage of being taller than most people and it all seems to work out…
This trip should be a strange one with some very dramatic ups and downs. My wife and I will be starting in Shanghai visiting family, always a great time. My Chinese family are great people they will all come over for lunch and dinner and we’ll get drunk and gamble and they’ll tell jokes and pour me a few more. My father in-law has done nothing but support and encourage us to live happy and reach for greater things. My Chinese mom is a beautiful women who would and does do everything in her power to make life for her family better even at her own expense (you just want to give her a big hug.) We’ll eat some fruit fresh from the trees surrounding their land, some fish from the pond out back and of course fresh fava beans and bok choy from the garden.
After a break from all the family stuff we need to squeeze in some business and hit the city in the center to visit with friends, give some gifts (gift giving is an art form to the Chinese and having realized it’s importance a work in progress for myself.) I blew $320 bucks of perfume yesterday, what the fuck! It’s still gravy baby cause I have made up my mind that financial success is something I will achieve among other things. (Henry David Thoreau once said that some men went off to India as a trading man so they may have become rich and might live the life of a poet. He insisted that to succeed in this business it would take no less than 10 years and by that time the soul would be lost…and that they should just go straight to the life of a poet…how bout if I do it in 5 years Henry? Will I still have the soul?) The business stuff appeals to me, when someone treats you to a grand lunch and goes out of their way to make you feel important, you can’t help but fell important!
After all the role playing it will be time to strap on the backpack and head west to Yunnan province of China. Hands down one of my favorite places on earth, it is a mix of the purest country side in China and small towns with cobblestone streets, outdoor cafes and small waterways running through. The head high marijuana plants growing along the side of the road are good fun to go as well. Then its down to south east Asia, I’m hoping for 2 out of Thailand, Cambodia and Laos (any suggestions) needless to say this should be otherworldly and with just my wife and I we are bound to roll between getting lost violent anger and totally content blissful love…Bangkok scares me a bit as I’ve never been and were I to go with mates it would be a beer after beer scuba dive into the underworld of western money and eastern exploitation excess. Truth be told I have far too guilty a concience for all that mess and with my wife around it will be more an observation of a relatively conservative Chinese woman handles a city like Bangkok.
Anyway none of that is here yet, it won’t even be started for a few more weeks and in normal fashion I start to overindulge leading up to a trip. It’s like I can push things further, over do them because I think they can’t keep hold of me. As if one day all my demons will wake up and say “Oh, shit! He’s gone again.” So I say give it to me while I’m here cause if there is one thing I’ve started to figure out it’s that you don’t know what you can do until you’ve done it.

interNET

InterNET

Long elastic legs
Soft plastic?
This is a doll I’m fucking
How convenient it’s becoming
Downloading my life
Trapped in an internet

Colder
Here and there she’ll hint of feeling urgy
Uninspired I respond or look away rejecting
“Touch me please,” she begs in silence
Turn over tired
Roll over shoulder
It’s not here
It’s getting colder…


Naked

Never walked naked
Naked like moles
Fat and hairy
Or bones and skin, pale with pimples
Small penis, big ass
Stretch marked, pumped up
Naked, normal naked
Haven’t tried it yet…

Photos Suzhou, China

Made a trip to Suzhou and put a few pictures together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CA2DPNWoet8

BeatUp

Crack! His knee slammed against my forehead, just above the left eye. I caught a glimpse of the crowd behind me, shouting and snarling like hungry dogs. Their breath made hot clouds in the cold winter air. Clouds that shot out from their mouths and rushed down to me; burning my ears.
I scrambled to try and tie up his leg; so I might avoid another blow, but the first had left me too dazed and the second struck with force. I wasn’t afraid and the pain didn’t come until after. I was humiliated, they had all seen me beaten. As I stood there in front of them and insisted that we go on, I felt their eyes screaming “weak.” Whispering and throwing their laughter out at me from behind the crowd. He didn’t matter anymore, but they did, more than all the world they did, and they knew it. I was now alone at the bottom of the food chain, all held rank above me.
Standing before them; like a defendant stands before his jury; with warm blood, sliding slowly down from my nose. I had been broken, not by fists or by knees, but by the attack of their judgment. I’d been found Guilty on all counts and was now at their mercy for sentencing.
That fight beat a self conscience into me. A self conscience, that till this day reminds me of what others think. A blind man regains his vision, I awoke to a nightmare. A nightmare I’d be forced to live inside. A nightmare where all that surrounded me was judgment; forever alone in front of the crowd, the snarling dogs, hungry for the strength that comes from the weakness of others. Always trying to prove myself worthy of respect and scrape my way up from the basement of popular opinion.
That’s how I learned to join the crowd. To blend in, never give them a chance to catch you alone. Provoke the charge of attack towards those whose weakness too closely resembles our own, before the crowd can sniff it out in you. Laugh loudly, but not too loudly, just enough for them to hear. A school of small fish swims together and creates the illusion of a single, larger, stronger one. What single little fish would be so brave, dumb to take the risk of swimming it alone.
Thankfully I had been able to hold the tears long enough to escape the eyes of the crowd. For some reason I thought that if I could just keep from crying, keep from letting the tears show themselves it would mean that all was not lost. It would mean that they weren’t able to take everything; but they did come, I was too weak to stand up against them. “I don’t want to cry,” I said out loud as the tears fumbled their way forth up from my gut.
My clothes were wet from the cold ice on the ground. The salty tears burned as they rolled over the cuts around my eye. It made my vision blurry and I slipped again jumping down off the rusty metal fence with its sharp prongs that I’d been forced to climb in order to escape the stares of those who’d watched my defeat. I’m just glad that I didn’t get stuck on that fence, like so many others have.
Those tears were not from the pain I felt pounding in my head, or the cuts on my hands and knees. Those tears were shed for the acceptance that I would have to submit to the crowd, if I wished to survive. The days of freedom had ended, no longer could I carefree go about my business and they about theirs. It was time to find a mask and sneak back into the good graces of the majority, become the crowd and never its victim. Learn to adjust to its movements without question and swim at a proper speed. Those tears were for my innocence, the innocence I’d be forced to leave behind on that cold winter day.

Title

On a quest to find the things I have to write about isn’t going to be easy, or maybe it is…Here and there things hit me that bring about a pure inspiration something I couldn’t turn off if I wanted to. Cooking used to be that thing. I would work my ass off in hot sweaty kitchens with a chef coat two sizes too big hunched over a cutting board for 8, 9, 10 hours a day and I loved it! In that few years I learned more, worked more, studied more and drank more than any other time in my not so long life. And I loved it because it made me feel like I was doing something, like I was important or special or knew things that other people didn’t. I’d take the subway and growl at all the soft mother fuckers taking the late night train because they weren’t cooks, because they hadn’t done 120 covers and were therefore not on my level. Sizing them up you know they’d never make it, you know you couldn’t trust them under pressure. I could trust my other line cooks though they could trust me. I could trust the dishwasher to run into the walk-in and get another tenderloin for me or to stuff some more squash blossoms. The Chef, he trusted all of us and if for some reason there was one in the group that he didn’t it was made known and they earned his and our trust or they were soon replaced with someone who did. The front of the house, waiters, runners, maitre d were always a little suspect and passively aggressively/aggressively aggressively resented because it was known, but never acknowledged or god forbid mentioned that they made more money than us cooks. The front of the house trusted each other though and that was the important thing. The kitchen was a place of intensity, of immediate focus and attention to detail, a place that consumed you and dragged you out of the sunlight and into a brick oven basement to streamline all the energy that the average office worker pisses away day after day for half their life into a single practice, cooking.
After some globe trotting and a taste of an easier life the concept of levels wormed it’s way up into my brain and found some thing to grab onto because it seems to be expanding day by day. Social levels were never something I took the time to notice. Never took the time to see that in my kitchen rags I wouldn’t have been allowed out into the dinning room where the civilized patrons were seated. I was the no name grunt someone threw money at to entertain them with his skill , cooking, I’d been able to absorb and recreate. Next to the Latinos, who looking back seemed to have far more understanding of the situation than us crazy white boys, who cooked because we loved it. The main reason why I can’t go back to a kitchen, aside from my new found fear of hard work is a sense of shame, of failure and bottom line bottom of the food chain mentality. It got to the point where I tucked my tail between my legs and had to get a job at a café for $11/hr. I save a little face by finding a number of excuses why its acceptable and why it’s just an instance of convenience. Trying to make myself feel better, that I’m still the one the people give the order to, still the one washing dishes, still the one on payroll and still the one on the bottom. Fuck the bottom!!!
In another world I worked as an English teacher at a local kindergarten and made a great salary doing a fun and respectable job. I was the one trading money for services and seeing the levels magnified and blown up a thousand times. Another world where I’d buy meat kabobs and hashish off a Muslim street vendor who made in a month what I made in a day. Wondering if he had any idea how much space was in between us. In truth I pray that he didn’t because ignorance isn’t bliss it’s a bubble and once you pop it your stuck swimming in the shit you knew about and all the new shit you never realized was there. Careful now because to many people start talking that way and emotions get nasty, tempers get sharp and throats get opened. It’s happened before and history may not repeat itself, but certain cycles are hard to redirect.
In this world I’m starting to see just how well they’ve worked it out a place where we middle man peasants have houses, cars and kids in college. How we have dignity and pride and how we tell ourselves that these are choices not designations. That where we are is where we want to be, not where we’ve been put. God bless the bubble because it keeps us floating, keeps that energy streamlined into a society of life, levels and the pursuit of happiness.

Beggars

I’ll venture towards society and a few experiments I hope to conduct over time. The first of these will be to pose as a street beggar and see how it is for money, dignity, danger. Bums must be pretty damn protective over a good spot to beg at. So inside of this test there should be a number of different approaches. One you could just put a cup out and see who gives. Another would be just putting out a cup and shaking it all the time (this really annoys me when a beggar shakes the cup) Next you have to play on the pity response trying to wear really beat up clothes. Putting a brown bag (40oz) next to you. Personally I try and give a little something to people doing something, like in China there are usually blind street performers who play an instrument called Erhu, its played with a bow and only has two strings. Gives off a very sad tune, some have real skill others just play. There are also some beggars that are very friendly and outgoing, they’ll say hi to you tell a joke dance…These kind of guys are on the lighter side others can be intimidating and although that really rubs me and most people in the wrong way it does probably scare some people into giving a few coins. In New York City I saw the photograph of a big black guy with a sign that read “Ninjas Killed my Family, need money for Kung Fu lessons…Must take revenge” That makes me want to give him a dollar for no other reason than he came up with a funny, creative idea and it put a smile on my face and gave me a little laugh.
I’ve spent a little bit of time talking to some homeless guys and from what I saw something wasn’t right. One was a bad alcoholic and he used to buy six or so forties to last him through the night, I’m not sure how he got the money for them, but I guess he would beg through the day and then have some cash at the end. He was also convinced that his ex-lover’s father was the leader of the Hell’s Angels and would kill him if he went near this woman he claimed to be in love with. He said they were watching him and that she wouldn’t see him because she knew her father would have him killed if they met. (something about the story didn’t fit for me, but hey who’s to say what’s reality) One night after I had spent a while talking to him the night before I was going to dinner with a friend and saw him. I said hey why don’t you join me and let me buy you some dinner. He agreed and so we went in, the place was a small Tibetan restaurant and they seemed a little uncomfortable with him being there (he smelled pretty sour) he decided he wanted black pepper beef, they didn’t have black pepper beef, he thought it was a regular Chinese restaurant? He ended up getting their equivalent of black pepper beef (it was the most expensive thing on the menu) after eating a few bites he says “Hey thanks, but I gotta go” to be honest I was a little happy to have him leave with the funky smell and all. So he gets his food wrapped up in a to go container opens up his bag and puts it on top of another already full container of black pepper beef? Having felt a little duped by the guy my friend and I change the subject and move on, about 10 minutes later he walks by waving at us with a bag full of 40oz’s over his shoulder. Needles to say I felt a little stupid.
That helped me think about things a little more and even though it became more clear that he wasn’t totally helpless he was living pretty far out on the edge and like he put it “God didn’t make me to sit in an office” I countered that “God didn’t make you to drink all day either.”


It’s a crazy place
The mind of a man on the street
The one with the can and no where to sleep
A funny kind of thing
A funny thing that makes me think.

Every Coin has Two Sides

My head jerked back at the sound of an explosion
Grabbed my gear and hurried fast toward the commotion
All I saw were bodies and smoke
Frank, my fellow soldier screamed out “Help, my leg is broken.”

The smell made me nauseous
Trying hard, had to be cautious
Maybe more of them around
Felt my hand wet on the ground
From blood that sizzled on hot black top
Frank is passed out and the bleeding I cannot stop

Three of my brothers were down
Six civilians, three women
Two men and a boy
By this time they’d deployed
Reinforcements and medical staff

Later that night I found out Frank had died
I had to hide the tears I cried
For all my heart I really tried to stop the bleeding
They said that there was bleeding from inside
He’d fractured ribs

Also found out that it was a Twelve year old kid
That blew him up with grenades
He had concealed inside his stuff
The kid took the life of my best friend in this desert
This hot as hell, disgusting smelling fucking desert

What’s wrong with these people don’t they know
We’re here to help them, bring them freedom
Better lives, but instead they help to hide
These insurgents from the east
Who target us, destroy the peace

They’re crazy talk about Allah
Then blow up kids with bombs in cars
Animals is closer still
That’s why I cannot wait to kill
A terrorist with all my will

They attacked us first
9-11 sent to heaven
Thousands in New York

Still we protect them
Just glad that Bush
Has done so much to protect us
Because of him we fight them here
Not at home, back in America

I miss my home and all my family
Miss my girl, just hope she waits for me
Makes me sick to think of all those cowards we protect
Protesting back at college while we’re here risking our necks
Half way across the world in the desert

Long beard Bin Ladin and his towel head troops
If I see them lord knows waste no time before I shoot
When I first came I wanted to help these people and their country
Now I’ve given up they should deal with their own problems
They messed it all up, so why should we be forced to solve them

Next day receive the news
We’re out on raids
gained some ground we cannot lose
There is a chance for volunteers
And so I choose
To go along to help the cause

It is time to get inside
Find the places that they hide
Take them back dead or alive

I am a patriotic person
Here’s my version of the truth
This is not a war that
America can afford to lose

We pull out of the base
Middle of the night
Vision gear is packed in the back
Full vest and helmets strapped tight

The desert is a cold place
Once the sun goes down
It’s another hour to the town
Where they’re hiding

Intelligence gave us a list
Of where to hit
And who to take

My heart is pounding as we line up ready to rush the first door…


“Wake up!” my mother cries as she pulls me from my bed
A smash kicks in my door, a man’s words I do not know
Screaming pointing at the floor

He holds a gun, he is a soldier
There are four men moving swiftly
Aiming rifles at us quickly

Barking orders

My brother’s head is dripping, with blood
His clothes their ripping
Pants their pulling and unzipping
He begs “why my clothes you’re stripping?”

What have we done I’m thinking
We must have done something?
Why are the soldiers beating my brother?

Strongly snatched from the arms of my mother
She tries to stand to pull me back, but she is pushed down
Soldier grabs me by my collar lifts my feet up off the ground

He yells words at me in English
I stare stupid in his eyes
Shaking his head slowly
He just drops me by his side

I can see now that they’re loading my brother in their tuck
Screaming, “Stop!” I stand up.
Butt of a rifle sits me down

As they drive away I’m thinking
Their path grows smaller, shrinking
Fifteen minuets ago we lay in our beds sleeping
Now my brothers bruised and beaten
Dragged him off and left us weeping

We spend the night just sitting, praying
“He’ll be alright,” I keep on saying
Truth is I don’t know
Don’t know where they took him or why?

Alone along the streets I walk
Half in fear and whole in shock

“I can help you with your brother,”
Words are whispered by a stranger
I turn to look…
“Let us leave” he says, for here we are in danger

Down an alley way we dart
Hear the pounding of my heart
He calls out “Quickly!”
“For the meeting soon shall start”

“What meeting?” mumbles from me
There are no meetings on a Sunday

At a door we stop
The man gives twice a knock
Two large men undo the lock
I freeze up with hesitation
The two men are not so patient
Pull me in and lock the door
Explain “we’re only here to talk”

We walk into a room filled with people speaking softly
A man tall and thin with a beard long and slim
Walks to the front of the floor

All attentions on this fellow
As his words begin to bellow
I’m in awe to stand and hear his words
Spoken strongly and so true
Of occupation for our oil
Political powers and abuse
Propaganda of insurgents and
Of time becoming urgent

People spoke were just like me
Some lost homes and family
One woman spoke of her son
He was 12, same age as me
Her words still haunt my mind:
“The bombs were falling from the sky,
That were filled with tearful cries
Asking why?
To our God unseen by eyes
Why was my son so young to die?”

The meeting ended with a prayer
And my personal realization that something had to be done.

I attended meeting after meeting
Pamfleets and my prayers
Everyday I’d spend them reading

Late at night I woke up wet
Dripping wet from body’s sweat
Trying hard, but can’t forget

Wish we had guns of our own
For then we should have shown
Who was weak and who was strong
When they came into our home

I can never change the past
But I can arrange the future
Never be a coward sheep
Nor a leech or lying looter
For the cause I’ll be a shooter

My head is holding high
Heart and mind is filled with pride
As I stare up at the sky
Yell, “I am not afraid to die!”

The next morning myself and four others sat in prayer
With thoughts of heaven
I know my cause is true
Feel no fear for what I’ll do

My only worries for my mother
She’ll find comfort with the others
For I must avenge my brother
And in heaven help I love her.

Cat Up a Tree

Cat Up a Tree

You once were exotic
Guess it is a bit ironic…

I played with you a little
Fill my mind with tiny riddles
Eyes like glass, a goofy smile
More it seems your number dialed

In beginning gave me feelings that I’d never felt before
And never feel again!
And still I date you more and more

Chasing something that’s behind me
Like a cat runs up a tree
For at the top I look to see
Coming down is not so easy

Now you have a voice
I give in, I have no choice
Next morning swear your gone
Till at night I hear your song
Almost half knows that its wrong
But even more is feeling drawn

Give it back my soul possession
Here it is a true confession
Learned a lesson,
But the hard way

So up this tree I’m trapped
Alone, a course unmapped

Your not alone you still have me
Don’t you like it up this tree
Listen close I’ll set you free

It’s so boring on the ground
So much talking, not a sound
Had me lost, but now I’m found
I’ll bring you home In just a while
Truth I speak.... its only but a mile
So relax, enjoy your time with glassy eyes and goofy smile

Phone Booth Kids

Thomas was on his way back from a few drinks a in a local dive. It was his first trip to Bangkok and as of yet he didn’t feel it a place he’d be coming back to soon. Around where he was staying it was all westerners. They drank all night and partied in the streets, buying bootleg clothing and catchy phrased t-shirts. In the mornings they would still be in the cafes, drinking and smoking cigarettes, dragging from the night before. Maybe a few years ago he’d have loved it, but that was then, today it wasn’t for him.
Crossing the street in the rain Thomas landed in a puddle, he shivered a little, looking down at the black water, not wanting to think about the street vendors scrap buckets and plump rats who ran the streets. As he got to the far side of the street he noticed a woman, her back was to him, laying on her side and she was facing a small metal stove, no higher than a foot off the ground. Inside there was a fire burning and lots of orange coals. She seemed to be holding something close to her chest, a baby guessed Thomas. As he passed to the other side of her he looked back. Startled he realized her shirt was up and she was rubbing her breasts, her eyes looked up at him as she kept rubbing. A few rain drops hissed as they hit the top of her iron stove. Obviously she had lost control of her mind.
After passing a few street folks on this darker side of the road Thomas came to a phone booth. Inside were two young kids, sitting on the floor, playing. The older one looked up at Thomas, he winked back and the young Thai gave a smile. A short ways up Thomas stopped, he thought about the kids for a second and about the book he’d just finished Welcome to the Bangkok Slaughterhouse about a priest who had spent the past 30 years working and living with children in Bangkok’s hardest slums ( www.mercycentre.org ) Thomas stood there for a moment and pulled a 20 baht note from his wallet, he folded it up and slid it into the middle of his notebook. He turned around and walked back toward the kids in the phone booth. Getting closer he noticed that the kids were keeping themselves entertained by kicking the door open as foreigners walked past. They caught the father of a French family as Thomas approached. The man didn’t seem too pleased. It made Thomas laugh.
Knocking on the glass of the phone booth Thomas motioned for the kids to come out. Squatting down he showed them his notebook and motioned for them to open it. It took a minute for the kids to realize what he was asking them to do, but finally the older one looking at the younger one lifted the cover. “Just some words,” said their questioning expressions. No, no, keep going Thomas motioned. Quickly they flipped through page by page, stopping to point and giggle at a few of the doodles. Finally they hit the cash. They looked at each other and looked at Thomas. He pushed it across the page towards them and they quickly grabbed it, saying “thank you” as they tucked back into their phone booth play room.
The rain came on a little stronger as Thomas walked back to his room. He wanted to give something to those kids that could help them, he knew the cash was nothing. Their parents would probably take it once they saw the kids with it and at best they might get some sweets out of it. It was putting the money inside the book that he wanted them to catch. Thomas wanted to show those two kids that turning the pages of a book can lead you to good things. That inside the cover of what looks like just some pages you can find secrets, you can find knowledge, power and money. A book can contain another world or the same world through different eyes. Nasir Jones said “Through your existence become wealthy, knowledge is King’ Thomas knew it was a stretch, and that chances were the two kids couldn’t read, but at least he had tried, he hoped those kids could catch the point and find the power of a book one day.
Back in the room, after his shower Thomas told the story to his wife, she was half asleep and said she didn’t think they would get it. She was always to the point in that way.

-stephen faulkner

1st 3

Expensive
I’ve yet to cut off an appendage
For I’m young, naïve, inoffensive
Tragedy is no friend to me
So my art probley’ won’t
Be expensive


White Boys
White boys we dream of the struggle
Dream to be one of the rebels
But the same skin as us
Is the first to discuss
Who takes the shot
To make sure that they stop
“That nigger making all of the trouble”

Difference
Differences I have made little
Fill my mind with mental riddles
And watch the world go by

thailand

Last night I watched as a few feet from my eyes a man and woman had sex to Simon and Garfunkel’s “hello darkness.” They were both robotic, the man was thin and dried out like a raisin. He looked around nervously as some stood up and walked out. They were facing the other way when she gave him a blow job, it was the only thing that turned me on. Bangkok did not allow me to feel comfortable.

The girl had her feet up in the air against the mirrored wall. Lying with her back on the floor. She would shoot a carved out vegetable penis over her head and slide back to catch it. On the third toss she missed and the dildo landed with a slap sliding across the stage and onto the floor. An old woman with a flashlight came over, it was under the chair next to me. No one dared to touch it. The girl looked very embarrassed and left the stage.

Walking down Kho San road and older man caught my attention among the constant waves of people. He was white in his forties or so, big build and wearing jean shorts cut real short like a pair of bikini bottoms. More than anything it put a question mark in my brain and made me suddenly aware that there are so many stories around me everyday. Not that all are worth hearing, but that they’re there all the same. A million stories all around, the book of the world. I need to read more pages.

Sitting in a hole in the wall off the main road, I’m starting to appreciate Bangkok, (not like or admire.) There are a few Thais sitting around me drinking beer. The light here is soft, it is a good place to write. On the walls there are black stencils, about 6 inches high of stripper women grabbing their ankles? Underneath is the caption “The FCUK Public House.” The only thing behind this place is an alleyway, in fact the whole bar really is an alleyway, no wall in front or behind. I’m pretty sure the waitress here isn’t going to be grabbing her ankles, I’m also pretty sure no one would want this waitress grabbing her ankles.
Maybe the happy brownie kids will be out when I make my way back to bed. Not sure if I’ll be indulging, I’m tired and have been reading books on the horrors of the Thai justice/prison system. Brownies here have the potential to be not so happy.
In more than general Bangkok feels a free mans city. Not that I didn’t enjoy going through the markets
around Chinatown today, but things really wake up at night. Everyone gets hungry. There are a hundred
right and wrong turns and being with my wife that puts me on the defensive, worried for her safety,
burdened with the role of protector. Solo though these same turns are what call for another drink, they drag
me deep into places of strangeness, places that vibrate with a surreal intensity. They make me vibrate from the inside out and feel for real the dangerous and exciting energies. The tuk tuks are breaking my concentration and the Bee gees are on the speakers, Night Fever, Night Fever.
A Thai man just came up and started, I guess begging from two other Thais. He is wearing a tang-top and had lots of tattoos. They looked away ignoring him, he dropped to his knees and spoke loudly. Quickly he moved on. I’m sure he was drunk…

Bangkoked in Thailand

My first Bangkok sex show. Mind boggling tricks performed by the vaginas of women past their prime. Including such classics as hide the razor blades and the ping pong show.
Ps a smoking pussy cannot be healthy.