I hang out with this early man on occasion called John McCuddy. I love verbally sparring and can’t get enough of the open looks Cud’s depressing, dire, and cynical state of our current society gives me. We do laugh a lot so it’s not like it’s raining every time I see him, just cloudy with peaks of sunshine.

Tuesday I came across him as he sat leaning forward on a park bench entertaining a pigeon. He dropped the last remaining crumbs of popcorn and then quickly began rolling quarters over his fingers. He started in as soon as my ass could feel the metal slats.
“It just don’t make any sense that people are walking around with these cell phones bolted to their heads. Who the hell are they talking to? Does it make any sense that you are calling people you are on your way to see?” He began flipping the quarter with his thumb and then slowly put it in his lapel pocket. “What purpose does it serve?”
“It’s efficient, Cud. You can tell people where to meet you if things change, bus is late. You can tell your wife to fucking start thawing the pot roast you on your way." I said studying his graying hair before sliding down on the bench. "Cud that language is played out when it comes to downing the technology advancements we've made as a society. Next you’re going to say we didn’t have this in...fill in decade. ”
“It’s just corporational distraction to load their goddamn pocket books and keep you from thinking on your own. What happens when we are left alone with ourselves; able to settle down, you know?” He said studying the ground.
“Ah Cud…”
“Think about it. If we are left alone more we find more magic; we rearrange our priorities and do more of what we love, but now we are either buying their crap or your working for these companies pushing their crap.”
“It’s all been said, Cud.”
“Don’t you see it’s a damn distraction to keep us from our purpose.
“It’s just a cell phone.

She was supposedly sexually harassed. I didn’t know her name, because it was her very first day, but as long as I’ve been working here I’ve never seen someone harassed at this speed. I’m mean, I even wait a month to a year at testing the degree at which I can be rude. But here this woman being shown where the coffee pots is; how to use the microwave, the inner components of the filtered water, finds herself being exposed to the office most unusual employee. Here he pulls an apple from the refrigerator walks up to her and says “Those are the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen.” Silence rung out like a church bell. “I was raised on a farm in a small town in Pennsylvania. My family and I Went on to other agricultural products after being crowded out, and then we wound up watching it go the way of the dust bowl.” He continued.
Because we were clearly not expecting something like this on a Monday morning, I who was standing at the vending machine joined in with the others and found ourselves standing like chess pieces. He sighed and seem to reflect fondly of a by gone era, by a small grin and the rubbing of his head.
“I think that was very inappropriate.” The manager says as the victim turned away and headed near the door.
“I don’t mean it in a sexually harassing way. I just couldn’t help but reminded of my days on the farm as kid. All this processed milk nowadays. I’ve seen it a few times…”
“But you just insulted this woman on her very first day. She hasn’t even taken her coat off.” I added. Staring at them now and discovering that he was not clearly off the mark.
“What ever happen to the power of observation?”

Act one

There is this woman I work(Madeline) with who is the star of a very engaging play. I hurry to work to listen to it unfold, from the manager,people in the lunch room, friends and of course her.
The actors are played by her boyfriend(Sample) also the father of her daughter, her older and ailing parents, brother(Ira) and (Marble) sister-in-law.


The very first act I came in on(what truly made me believe that this would be epic and number 1 in her canon) was eleven months before the birth of her daughter. She had just moved out of her parents home and into her first apartment. She was 26 and it appeared had not lost the fevor of constant hours of sex, its repercussions, poorly made drinking decisions and not paying rent for that matter.
Ah
the stories that it brought to the stage. The first month was began with sex with a friend/acquaintance/friend after a all night party that ended with a police chase and the getting rid of very pricey and quite good weed. What hurt more was that it was a complete misunderstanding and our heroine could happily continue with would be considered a raucous tale of drinks,finding a new dealer,drunks and a disatourious train ride into work( she fell asleep on the train into work and woke up minus her purse).


Throughout the week there would be more of the same. Dick checks in cars and resident complaints of zoo sounding sex from her place. Surprisingly she would show up for work. Of course she needed few hours to find her rhythm,stapler and desk. But she would contribute well. Delving out information on her weekend adventure slowly. Giving different version to different ears. Those who could handle clean all the way down to the salacious, for people like myself who stood with popcorn and twizzlers.

As the month moved on and the next one began it had come to her attention that she had paid her rent last month. She would arrive at the conclusion that there will be no more of that.

Her landlord fresh with complaints about the noise from her apartment decided on her side. money wouldn't be a good exchange anymore maybe if he could just change his status and do more than just fix some of her applainces.

Before any negotiations could begin, both of them must have remembered that not only did he have a girlfriend but she also lived down in the apartment with him(she was very abrasive and also a brown belt in Tao kwon Do. I could not understand how this was constantly over looked). This would take a revised plan.

ok at this point we finally reach the pinnacle, of this act. One evening or afternoon, as this story is disjointingly told our protagonist is engaged in her usual mutual oral exploration(stolen from defunct moonlighting) and a massive malleate (hopefully I am using this word correctly)started in on the door. The sound was accompanied by "I know your in there(s) " and continued with even more intense pounding.

The friend/acquaintance became a little nervous. Our heroine tried to calm him down by forcing him into the bathroom and through a nailed (bricked over) window(they had to stop) while she headed to the now mangled, held on by a 70 year old frame door. There stood an ex friend--but more than friend, from Miami ready to claim her back(Sample) No fisticuffs were thrown as somehow he was twarted by seeing her sweaty and naked.

The Landlords owner would come up with a better plan and realize they could make more money as a condo.

She would leave

She would become pregnant move home to her parents where her brother and sister-in law also reside and chalk up her little foray as a slight hiccup as we await Act II

excerpt

“You’ve been divorced well over a year, you can at least go out with someone.?”
“I’ve done that—you know that. I have just been in some bizzaro world of dating.” Choosing women due to their strong sexual output, and then unconsciously—with stupidity, trying to shape it into a relationship.”
“I’ve been thinking about things like that…” David said as a few people walked in-between them. “I consider those preferences that will lead you into the right direction.”
“Preferences, for what?”
“Preferences for large, breasts or a mini skirt! That’s what captures you initially, right?” He said as Bill shook his head.
“Well, that’s some of the things I find myself looking to talk to, but it doesn’t mean I won’t open myself up to different situations. It just a period I’m in.”
“My thing is this, Bill. I believe your preferences are not necessarily a faze or a period, but a part of who you are.” Lines swam ashore on Bill’s forehead, as his eyebrows almost connect under perplex ion.
“What are you saying? That I’m supposed to be attracted to the shallowness…if that’s the case then I want to hear more!” he said laughing.
“I’m saying—least this is what I believe, that if you have a preference for someone on shallow—a lack of a better word—levels you have an obligation to embrace it.”
“Embrace what?” Bill said now joining him against the wall.
“Well that situation.” He said looking at him intently. “ It doesn’t mean have sex with this person, you should respect what about them physically caught your eye, their ethnicity, legs, face…”
“Ass.” Bill whispered, and laughed.
“Well…yea.” He said shaking his head. You have to see what level these things can take you too, or maybe it’s not supposed to. You just have to decide what you’re looking for at the moment, and that’s when life becomes interesting.”
“OK so what you’re saying, David is. I see a woman based on my specs…”
“Physical specifications.”
“Yes physical…”
“Now remember this only in certain situations If you are sitting somewhere and a woman approaches you it could be the other way around, and you have to use things such as similar hobbies or personal philosophies to determine if you need to make a connection…”
“What you don’t do this if I’m attracted to someone physically?”
“Of course you do, it just becomes the second thing you do after the door opens. If someone chooses you that person might not be on your physical preference list, but their intellect, philosophy on life, hobby is still is, and this would be the only way your path could get you to together.”
“This sounds way to difficult.” Bill said smirking at him. “To much homework.”
“What makes it easy, is knowing who you are.”
“David your strange.

2

words



words


No TV, idle moments, agenda


words



words


silence

Zen

There’s no point in translating all of the old Chinese texts—not if you’re serious about understanding real Zen. The sound of the rain needs no translation.
MORIMOTO ROSHI

Zen

Thus we see that the all important thing is not killing or giving life, drinking or not drinking, living in the town or the country, being lucky or unlucky, winning or losing. It is how we win, how we lose, how we live or die, finally, how we choose. We walk, and our religion is shown (even to the dullest and most insensitive person), in how we walk. Living in this world means choosing and the way we choose to walk is infallibly and perfectly expressed in the walk itself.

R. H. BLYTH

Subject 2

I just took your photo, and yes we were serenaded by Miles and Madeleine Peyroux.


Now you are calling me at 12:58 am on a Monday night.




At 22 I knew what happened at this hour.

Subject 1

She tried to come over. Drive her rental car anyway. I had just finished a conversation with a woman whose voice warms my blood, and now here I am in the cross hairs of someone's spontaneity. Upon separation from my wife I made bold and meaningless statements to the fact that: I would be out there. I would be entertaining personalities and creating stables of women impressive to even William Clinton. I would be solar pl ex deep in tons of sexual escapades (as long as they are familiar with the Tao, Aristotle, The book: Disappearance of The Universe... Stumbling Towards Enlightenment...The Alchemist...) and driving like a caravan through them with a horns a blazing.

But i just happen to bump into someone

and here at 10:30pm I would be spending sometime with this eager driver about her staying home and also more importantly about the importance of a good parking space.

I know terrible





terrible becomes outstanding


if all you know is

terrible

39 degrees with snow flurries


I'm fighting going

I have a stupid hat

and i am feeling a tad under the weather

your neighbor couldn't handle the screaming

do you you have your highschool cheerleading outfit to do it in?

Words

"The moment between before and after is called truth."



Katagiri Roshi





In May of this year I told my brother my wife and I were seperating. He hasn't spoken to me since. I in his eyes was soon to violated a covenant put into play by God almighty; a law that cannot be forgiven, with only some form of damnation to follow.

The only thing I have violated was his fragile sensibilities.

A Lexus, huge home and a large bank account had all substituted for wisdom, in his head. I had fought my mind to follow another road and discovered humility along the way. He had this country as an ally to support his philosophy against me, so I couldn't cleary lay blame, but just look at him as disabled. His life had become devoid of passion and imagination and he had--like many, plugged into the illusion of the ego.

My wife and I agreed to rearrange our relationship, to save it. Do to preferences, path requirements we had too. It was very clear that something was wrong, but we had it in our power to figure it out. We both still needed each other, but we also needed to recognize other loves; other experiences and expand. We needed to stop coveting each other and see what we've become.

But my brother has stop speaking to me, but I will have the last word resonating in his mind

create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

Calendar

ZAZEN
Is not thinking of good, not thinking of bad.
it is no conscious endeavor.
it is not introspection

Dogen

Her

Quiver









My building cracked and crumbled down
i


ok




ok

don't know



what to
say

pour pour pour; the words
and many moments in one moment



my punic war;my Hannibal into Rome

A




walk says a lot

fast and flailing
and someone commands you.

You are oblivious. I would have to meet you another way

slow
and steady, you observe; you chart your destination



we
could

talk over tea.

Zen Calendar

Opening to oneself
fully is opening to
the world.




Chogyam Trungpa

September 1

September 1
Originally uploaded by mer1969.

Zen Calendar

Wealth is the number of things one can do without.






Fedor Dostoyevsky

A 60 Year Old Woman Get's A Rectal Exam And A Man In The Crowd

E

dgar Allen Poe wrote this tale called a ‘Man In The Crowd’ —if I’m right, it is about a story concerning a gentleman who watches and watches as life unfold outside his window. He spends his days taking in the hustle and bustle of people in this London town, turning his voyeurism into a political and social game using his eyes to settle on their clothing separating them based on their status and disposition. The glint of gold on one, the tatters on another, he watches as if he is omnipresent sailing above them not a part, but over and around them. Later he finds himself intrigued enough by one that he ventures out to follow this person, only to find that this person is no different from any one of the so called lost souls he’s imagined, and he the voyeur turns out himself to also be a man in the crowd.

Saturday night I found myself traveling the vessels of the internet unlocking its sweet and juicy secrets. I was feeling like chatting with a stranger of sorts. You know that feeling you feel like logging on and talking to someone who has no emotional connection with you, generally you talk about which way they grout their tile—ok so maybe you don’t. So here I am first with a decision on how I should attack this need for banter. I realize now with a little over ten years experience online that you have to be careful when you do anything that has direct contact with a human beings in any venue. People can have a very different idea about chatting than you do, you don’t want to find yourself in a room full of hermaphrodites who enjoy discussing the smell of latex paint, unless of course Ralph Lauren Orange does something for you. Plus today I didn’t want to be sitting naked in front of a low angle web cam. I was instead looking for a little more of a lighter appetizer. Once I had the gender down—woman, I would choose my room; no community one or special skills one. I settled on 40 or over women. I choose this decade ahead of me not because I was always attracted to women older than me, but thinking I would find at the most women who have strongly steered philosophical ships; women who have landed in all types macabe smelling potholes and navigated out it smelling like a rose. These women have earned the right deliver—and again at the most, sage advice (ok, this is my Santa Claus that I like to believe, occasionally). I was also of course willing and at the ready to type responses too mundane weather and property value monologues if need be. In the end this was still just an exercise in boredom.

Once in the room a 60 year old woman engaged me from some small European city. English was clearly her third language as she took her time typing and apologized as her sentences seem to come across a little choppy. I had no problem engaging her I saw her as different; a light breeze in the internet alleyway; a warm up act to the witching hour.

But our conversation would soon change like Chicago’s weather in September. Unlike my past appetites--in this case, I was an innocent bystander—honest, I was settling in the lull of silence of our instant messages and then she swung back explaining to me how her husband had two heart attacks and now was being attended by a nurse; she was lonely, ah lonely, here it comes. This is where the road would cross I would try to pull up on the reins; I would pull up the stakes and slowly closed down like down pours were coming. But yet she was still innocent(least in my mind); still rather polite and dissimilar from what my brain was use to as a flag. She never at anytime made any approaches towards me; she never dropped the skirt on her mind and laced me with counterfeit come on’s. She instead engages me with a tale of her 21 year old lover who played soccer in France. 21 years old who had met her in a restaurant as she sat with her friends. They would eye each other and he would later introduced himself. 21 years old. They went to dinner after that then a sexual…uh sexcapade began. She experience everything this young suitor could give, romps at her friends home when he was in town was the highlight of her month. 2 year years earlier she confessed to being just a housewife and now she was volunteering her exit for his circumcised entrance as if it was a tray of Christmas cookies her mother in law offered. She was just elated to deliver this to me; she was almost beside herself at this new found “turning out” was salvationly expressed, as if she was 19 years old and her best friend’s older brother asked her into the basement. Why at 61 must someone has to experience something that maybe a college girl 40 years younger than her chalks up as a good weekend, and why must I be a man in the crowd?