we lost you

we lost you
asked you to do things
we wouldn't do ourselves
killing people
blowing things up

we lost you
i see it in your face
still so young but used up
wrung out
expended for whatever

we lost you
we can't get you back
sent you far far away and forgot
what it takes
if you ever came home

Thank You

"I'm getting into the habit of saying "Thank you" to everything that happens to me."

"Thank you!" says Chung Tzu.

---------

Potshot Sez:

Lucky dog!
Old shoe!
Pile of shit!
Cold water!

The Family Below Me

It is strange to live alone, in a flat, over a relatively normal family. I can hear them. The kids start running around after 6.30 AM, every day. The boy, older, is the fastest -- his sister tries to keep up, but he's always faster. I hear them bumping up and down, up and down. Laughter, some crying. More laughter.

It might be that way all their lives, who knows? The mom and the dad laugh, someone strums a guitar in the living room on Saturday mornings. I've never heard dishes breaking, violent words screamed at the top of someone's lungs. Never felt the house shake when two bodies are locked in combat -- no pushing, shoving, threats.

I know things aren't perfect, the littlest one has a rough night every week. The boy walks around the yard smiling brightly, but his fists are tightly clenched if you touch any of his secondhand toys. The toys are his. His little sister mimics his territorial urge. But she can't do it convincingly, she's still too small, too young. It makes her confused.

Oh functioning, loving family. How will you change? What will happen next? Jobs lost, jobs got, promotions, school projects, some arguments, a sprinkle of girlfriends and later boyfriends that will shoot through, abide, then most will be gone. On to the next thing, then the next thing, college, leaving home. Starting your own relatively normal, loving families. In one or the other, there might be a guitar that is strummed on a Saturday morning, singing like you always did.

traveling alone/ west

the face
it smiled

the pen
it wrote

the food
was eaten

babies
gotten

wine
drunk

yards
trimmed

the pen
kept writing

kids
grew

the face
stopped smiling

arguments
had

hotel rooms
occupied

long nights
passed

pen
writing

suitcases
packed

screams
screamed

fights
terminated

traveling alone
west

Try Being Angry

"What are you doing?" asks Chung Tzu.

"I'm being happy." I say, angry.

"Oh well. Try being angry, then."

Welcome to Odd Day!

So what is the date today? 5/7/09. Whats so odd about that? Well, the interesting thing about 5/7/09, is that every number in today's date is an odd one. This combination of all odd numbers in a given date happens only 6 times, any century. Ron Gordon explains it all, in a funny way. He really likes these Odd Days.

The Good, the New....

"The good, the new, comes from exactly that quarter whence it is not looked for, and is always something different from what is expected. Everything new is received with contempt, for it begins in obscurity. It becomes a power unobserved."

-- Feuerbach

From TREASURY of THOUGHT
compiled by Maturin M. Ballou

Unknown Bear Story

One of the best bear stories I've ever heard was told by -- I think a co-worker? Gosh, this bothers me...who told it?

Anyways, when she was in her early 20s, she'd go camping from time to time, to get away from the routine, and have fun. On one trip, amongst her friends were two guys who were bothering her a bit, so when it came time to go to sleep, she took her sleeping bag away from the fire, a good ways, so they wouldn't bother her.

In the middle of the night, she woke up for some reason. And then she realized WHY SHE HAD BECOME AWAKE. There was a huge grizzly bear standing over her, in the almost pitch blackness.

"I would have run, I would have screamed," she said. "But for some reason, I was completely paralyzed. I was so scared, I couldn't even breath."

And what did the bear do?

He sniffed her, from her feet to her hair -- she could feel the bear's breath through the sleeping bag, because the bear was poking his snout into the fabric -- going SNUF SNUF SNUUUF SNUUUF SNUF SNUF!!! SNUF SNUF SNUUUF SNUUFFF!

Then the bear left.

The next morning, she never went camping again.

-----

No! Now I remember -- it was a dear friend of mine from Pema Osel Ling. Here's to you, N.

Just to Have Someone Around, Other than Me

A large fly gets into the flat, black, buzzing. It goes all over the place, trying to get out.

I live with the fly for 24 hours, watching it wander around, banging into windows and drapes, landing on things. As it searches for a way out, I work, I type, I do laundry.

I'm interested in the fly, and annoyed that it is in the apartment. At about 11 PM, we're both tired, so I turn off the lights. The fly sleeps. I sleep.

Next day, the fly wakes up at about 6 AM and starts aimlessly trying to get out of the flat. After a few hours, it sits next to me. I pity the fly, I capture it and let it go.

Going back up the stairs, with a plastic cup in one hand, towel in the other, I think: I'm so lonely, I kept a fly in my place for an afternoon, night, and morning. Just to have someone around, other than me.

Fatherly Advice

(all of this
pushing you away)

but what can i do
for fatherly advice

i go to my best friend's
father

i need you
but you won't show up

pushing pushing
who is pushing who away

i did this but
you encouraged me

(a non-valid excuse
i know

but screw you)

Prove to Me You Are CRAZY

Prove to me you are CRAZY. That is, actually start a debate with me, that torture is ever acceptable. And please, don't start with the threadbare "ticking time-bomb" cliche. And don't tell me about TV shows where torture works, like 24.

If you are pro-torture, then:

- It is OK to wrap a towel around someone's neck, and repeatedly slam them against a cement wall. Better to put up plywood, so you don't kill them.

- It is OK to strap a person to a board and near-drown someone, 6 times a day, for a month straight.

- It is certainly OK to say you will kill a person's whole family, or torture them, including small children, if you don't get the information you want.

And the sad thing is, the methods described above were used by countries like China and North Korea, to elicit FALSE confessions, for propaganda purposes. And for revenge.

Make no mistake about this! To torture, or not to torture -- here is a place where there is no moral or ethical ambiguity on the subject. You are either against it, or for it.

If you are for it, then I am sure you wait with great anticipation for torture to come to a police station, or prison, near you, very soon. And if pro, probably you fantasize that you will be one of the torturers.

Saving the world, one broken body after another! I pity you.

Chung Tzu - A Harmless Little Error!

Chung Tzu is here.

"How are you, brother?" he asks me.

"Angry. Scared. Frustrated."

"How so?"

"I don't know what will happen next. I'm afraid of losing everything, but I know I will, anyways."

"Well, that's not a bad thing." says Chung Tzu.

"How so?" I ask.

"There's no way of knowing what will happen next...and everything is already lost, because it was never to be found!"

"And the feeling of holding onto anything?"

Chung Tzu pats me gently on the shoulder. "Brother, it is not to be done. Not to be done. A harmless little error!"


Lao Tzu Says:

Now listen to me son!
Chung Tzu is giving you
some good advice!
With your feet on the ground
when the wind blows
you can bend, or go here,
or there, or anywhere!

Swine Flu?

Ah. Swine Flu. Hmmmm.

In any year, in the United States, more than 100,000 people are hospitalized with flu. And so each year more than 20,000 people, in the USA, die from the flu, or complications related to it. And we are not freaked out about that. Simply a way of life --- each year 35 to 50 million Americans get the flu.

But then, about 500,000 Americans die each year, because they wouldn't quit smoking. But you don't see a total ban on cigarettes.

Road Trip to Detroit i.

i.

We took a trip to Detroit. I'm surprised I have not written about it. Erik was in Chicago town, and his ancestors lived in north east Indiana, in corn country. The homestead was approximately halfway on the road between Chicago and Detroit. We left in the morning, on a day that turned out to be the first warm spring day of the season. The road was easy, the road was opening before us, we drove it.

After getting into Indiana, we hit the country lanes and finally found the little town where 5 generations of Cummins' had been raised. The house was right on the single main street, unmistakable, though our photograph of it had been taken 80 years ago. I looked around me, while Erik took a few pictures. The main street in the town was about three blocks long, and it was part of the road. A few dogs wandered around, on and off the street while two kids on bycycles zigzagged up and down with not much to do.

The kids and dogs dissapeared, and it was quiet. There was a couple down the street, talking to a man in a t-shirt without sleeves. They were looking at a beat up Toyota, looking to buy a reliable car. As I watched them & smoked a cigarette, Erik asked a white-haired lady where the old Lutheran burying ground might be. She was somehow befuddled, or extremely stupid. Sometimes the elderly think you only ask them questions, when you aim to rob them. She ended up giving us vague directions to a small modern cemetary that was outside of the farmtown. Uncharitably, we cursed the old woman for wasting our time.

The useless, modern cemetary, was at the end of a long gravel road, wonderfully isolated. You could sit there, it was on a little hill, and you could see over the stubble to a long strand of trees that would soon be bursting with green. The wind came up, fluttering a few momentos stuck by the graves, and then would die away. Here was a freshly covered person, you could tell by the dark flat square of earth where no grass had grown. We debated if we should really head for Detroit.

It was only about 160 miles away, and it was not quite 2 o'clock. Let's go!

Chung Tzu's Happy

"Hello, bother!" says Chung Tzu, as he comes in. "How are you today?"

"Sad and Happy, all at the same time." I reply.

"Indeed!"

"So what could someone do about that?"

"Well, I'd say let Sad and Happy mingle together."

"Tell me, why?"

"Usually in a bit, all that is left, is Happy. Happy is the only Real Thing!"

i came in/ i was alone

i came in
i was alone
just like you

we can
be friends
'cause of this

the moon came up

the moon came up
oh heartbreak my life

i cried because i saw the moon
the moon kept going

if you're not angry/ you can go anywhere

if you're not angry
you can go anywhere

truly not angry
then everyone will
welcome you

they'll be wanting
to meet someone
like this

some poeple waiting
all their lives

Leaving Soon

More rain, Lao Tzu comes in. I was a bit distracted, but here he is, I wanted to see him so.

"I am leaving soon, will you miss me much?" I ask, with great respect.

"I am everywhere." says Lao Tzu.

He smiles so gently at me, I know -- I know! But still, my heart could almost break!

------

Chung Tzu says:

Oh, no kid!
Don't you worry!
You've made some
good freinds here,
there, everywhere!

The Storm

Thunder and lightening last night, about 2 AM.

POW!

BANG!

BOOM!

I could see the flashes of lightening through my eyelids. I listened to the storm, half awake & dreaming, for about an hour.

Danny the Celt

Danny gets a blue marker and draws all over himself, ending up looking like a Celt from the 3rd century. He has fine, long blue lines all over his body. All we gotta do is put white ashes in his hair, like some kind of Mohawk, and he'll be perfect.

Poem - For Sabine

come on in kid
and stay awhile
we've been
waiting for you

everything is ready
we'll have a good time
you wanted to be here
& we wanted you

we'll make you feel
at home

New Band -- Braxton Hicks

I'm starting a new heavy metal band -- it will be called Braxton Hicks. The first album is already well planned out, it will be called "HEAVY LABOR". Included in the first album will be songs like, "Break the Water", "Time to Go", "Contractions", "Delivery Unit", "Effacement", "Bearing Down", "Scream if Ya Want To", and "Serious Drugs, Man". I think a certain demographic will identify with our thundering, ripping beats. The second album may be called "Awake All Night". Or, "I Can't Get No Sleep". In the second album, there will be songs like "Vampire Child", "Vomit" and "Beast Feeder". Again, certain demographics will positively know what I'm talking about. Rock on!

Poem - after the rain

after the rain
birds know what to do
juicy worms!

Poem - new me

new me
coming through
the door of
body and mind

very strong
can't be
qualified
here

this new
arrival how
can I

tell my
freinds
about you?

they'll like
you just as
much

as they
liked
me

Poem - i had a dream it snowed again

i had a dream it snowed again
about 2 inches overnight

in the morning i was so surprised
to see a glittering carpet of white

i woke up and looked outside
there was no snow in sight

i realized through
here was perfect snow

unrequested in the mind
all in the mind

Poem

the ego visits
but does not remain

Chung Tzu Reads the Sport's Page

Chung Tzu is reading the sport's page.

"I'm a big fan of spontaneity." I say.

"Well, that isn't surprising." he replies.

Potshot Sez:

Shhhhhh! Be quite!
Listen to the wind.

Now go into the other room
and take off your left sock.

Put ice cubes in it
and watch how the water drips!

Poem - woke up at 3 am

woke up at 3 am
didn't feel like sleeping

watched tv
but wasn't interested

paid programming
paid programming

at 4 am thought
i should go to sleep

danny wakes me at 7
phoebe off to school

(i admire the sink
and how it is bolted to the wall

best 350 bucks
i ever spent

and a job
well done)

2 Year Old + Water * 5 Minutes = ???

Daniel goes downstairs. Later, I notice I hear water running. It has been running for a good time now, several minutes at least. 2 Year Old + Water * 5 Minutes = 10 gallons of warm water all over the basement floor. How?

Daniel gets onto the couch next to the bar/ island in the basement, the couch is pushed up against the bar for a tent Phoebe and I built. He gets his big plastic dump truck, puts it in the sink, and turns both taps on full. The dump body fills up and water gushes out of it, into the sink, and out of the sink in all directions! The happy tinkling of water going everywhere is delightful, I realize.

Well, I needed to clean the basement floor. It could have been worse. Only a few days ago I was down there cleaning another section of the basement when the WC toilet exploded raw sewage all over the floor and leaked through the basement ceiling, through a light fixture. That was pretty cool, too.

Just a Silly Toy! III

In my dream, I wandered through the World, going here and there, and some freinds I made on my travels would follow with me. We never stayed anywhere long, and some places did not welcome us. Word was getting around, and some communities actively sought us out to show them how to solve the cube. At times, my life was in danger, but somehow I made it through.

Then, after many years, I and some followers decided to get away, and go high up into the mountains. We hiked for a long time, over many days, until we came to a clearing on a beautiful alpine slope. The meadow there was full of tiny wildflowers, and grass -- to one side was a stream that had come all the way from the very top of the tallest mountain. It was a good place to stay, and so we set up camp, and relaxed in the late afternoon. I had something on my mind, about the Rubik's Cube, but I wasn't sure what it was.

That night, we made a campfire, and watched a slim crescent moon rise, stars wheeled over our heads. After talking and joking about small things, I took out my cube, and I looked at it. After all our wanderings, it looked a bit shabby, with scratches and scuffs. Here was a great dent in one of the blocks. I turned it this way and that, mixing it up a bit, and we all laughed at that. I turned it back so it was solved, and we laughed again. I looked at my poor, battered Rubik's Cube again, and I realized finally what I had to do.

"I solved the cube. It is just a toy."

"Yes." they replied.

"I realize, just now, that it is not enough to solve or unsolve the cube."

Many people there were shocked.

"It is just a toy. I have moved beyond needing this cube."

I broke my cube into pieces. It really took no effort to accomplish this.

"Now I am free, without it."

There were some there who simply could not accept this, and they left that night. Living without the cube! Insanity! Solve it, yes - get rid of it - no!

But my true companions got over the shock, and though it made my life more difficult, I was happier to be rid of it. Certain places would shun us, and would not buy or sell if you had no cube.

But in the end, I was so free without my cube. Think of it: my new understanding could not be stolen, sold, exchanged, or given away. The original point of fixation that took me far, was utterly abandoned, now it couldn't be broken, couldn't be lost, would not be mixed up, and not be located here, nor there, nor anywhere -- not not there.

My realization Was!

Just a Silly Toy! II

In my dream, after I solved the cube, and saw it was a toy, I tried telling people about what I had done. Most people didn't believe me, that it could be solved -- many others condemned me for being so presumptions and proud to undo what had been done. Others were profoundly disturbed, because they belonged to creeds where they would gather together and ritualistically turn the cubes into similar patterns, signifying their chosen cultural identity.

For the last group of people, I had created a concept that threatened, what they felt, was their very identities. If Rubik's Cubes could be made whole, how would they know who they were, compared to others? So many steadfastly ignored me, and my solution, I was even threatened with death as "a great nihilist". If I was not condemned as a non-believer, I was accused of playing with God's plan.

But there were a few people who saw what I had done, listened to what I had to say -- they solved their cubes, and they realized it was just a toy. Most of these people were happy, after they solved the puzzle, because they were free of it.

Just a Silly Toy!

I had the strangest dream last night -- I lived in a culture where when you were born, they gave you a Rubik's Cube, and it was completely solved. But over time, the cube would become hopelessly mixed up, and there wasn't anything you could do about it. It was unavoidable for the cube to become scrambled, and the more your personal cube was scrambly, the worse you'd feel about it. People worried about the mixed-up state of their Rubik's Cube, it was a source of sadness and heartbreak. Nobody knew how to solve it, it was just too hard to imagine you could fix it, though people would secretly try. Many people thought it was a great sin to try to solve the mixed up state of the cube. Other people tried, and failed, they made it worse in trying. In my dream, I decided to unscramble the cube, and after many years of secret effort, I succeeded! My Rubik's Cube was whole and solved, laying there before me...and then I realized, it was just a silly toy!

Poem - april 2

take the age test
says an internet ad
how old are you

i am deadly old
older than older
past is too gone
the future broken

ha ha ha
just kidding
on april 2

Poem- Ticket

i wish i could say that
god got a parking ticket
or jesus got a ticket
but they can't and
they didn't

but neither can
buddha get a ticket
nor lao tzu or chung tzu
nor brahma
or mohammad

oh goodness look
they are all ticketless
unticketable and
non-ticketed even
if we think they should

April 1

Every day, for Daniel, who is 2, is April Fool's Day. He plays tricks all day long, spring, summer, fall and winter.

Phoebe, 11 years old, wants to play April Fool Tricks. "We should call up grandma, and tell her the house burned down!"

"Do you think she'd think that was funny?" I ask.

"No, probably not." Phoebe thinks. "How about we call my cousin Jared and tell him I broke my leg?"

"That might be better." I agree.

Chung Tzu IN and OUT

"I wasn't accepted. I didn't get in." I say to Chung Tzu, after reading the letter. "I mean, I wasn't sure I'd get in, but I thought I'd get in."

"Oh, my brother!" laughs Chung Tzu, and he spins around. "Wonderful! You're so IN they couldn't let you IN!!!"

"Now what do I do?"

"Oh boy! Wheeeeee!" says a dancing Chung Tzu. "You know what to do! Keep getting OUT THERE!!!"

Potshot sez:

How excellent!
Dance!
Bang, bang, bang!
Boom, BOOM, BOOM!
All up in the air!
A real mess like it
always was!!!

Poem - my father lives in memories

my father lives in memories
quiet muffled place
lined and ordered with
phantom do's and don'ts

i was overly bright
even insulting
a constant challenge
pushing forwards
pushing back pushing
in all directions
i know how it is clearly now
because i have a son
but with my father and i

unfortunately
there came a point
where we settled up
concluded business
didn't bother to even
say goodbye
goodluck
and still kept on
living

he and i may have been
looking for someone else
all along but couldn't
see this

but who were we looking
for? who had to be different?

Poem - The idiocy of Zeitgeist

The idiocy of Zeitgeist
Keeping us down
But it makes things work


Just before April
Oak Park, IL

Poem - I Hear the Word

sons and daughters
daughters and sons

make no mistake in this
be gentle oh be gentle

it takes effort to be this way
possibly it will be excruciating

but this will take you far
people will be astounded

if you are gentle!

Poem - too

too hot
too cold
too new
too old
too hard
too far
too much
too too

just perfect

Peom - be a glob of mud

i.

be a glob of mud
some flecks of straw

be a weed
or a flake of wood

easy as sunshine
no care moonlight

stand up sit down
get back up

ii.

follow the leaves
randomly blowing

go where
the wind blows

zigzag the straight path
like you are intoxicated

admire trash
admire girls on the avenue

iii.

the fence is broken
how lovely

the foundation is leaky
how lovely

the lot is cindery
how lovely

living dying changing
how excellent!

One Day Here and Stove Parts Came By

One day Here and Stove Parts came by.

"Have you seen Chung Tzu?" asked Stove Parts.

"He was here, but now he is not." I replied.

"He is not here, for certain, for I am Here." said Here.

"Certainly, that could be correct." said Stove Parts.

We were startled when Chung Tzu came into the kitchen with a swirl of wind, and a bang on the door.

Before we can recover, Chung Tzu laughs uproariously, like a pirate.

"AH HA HA HA HA!! Well, hello Here!! Where have ya been!?!"

Poem - searching for tao/ is tao searching for tao

searching for tao
is tao searching for tao

it may snow tomorrow
it may snow today

vase by the window
with dried flowers in it

Phoebe Tells Us About the Happy Wagon

At lunch, with Evan, Phoebe told us about this idea she came up with, she calls it "The Happy Wagon".

Phoebe explained: We all have a Happy Wagon, and we tow it with us as we journey through life. When something bad happens, or when someone is mean to you, it is like having a stone, or stones, put in your Happy Wagon. The good thing about the Happy Wagon is, you can either sprint right by when someone wants to put a stone in your Happy Wagon, or after a stone is put in your Happy Wagon, you can take the stone out and not keep carrying it, if you want to.

I said, Phoebe, that is interesting. Do you think you could carry other things on the Happy Wagon? I think good thoughts and other positive feelings could be on the Happy Wagon as well -- they'd probably make the Happy Wagon lighter.

Phoebe agreed. And some things on the Happy Wagon are not there forever, they fade away on their own, even if you don't use them, or give them to others, or throw them away.

Evan asked Phoebe, but what if someone wants to give you something heavy, for your Happy Wagon, and you don't want it, but you feel like you should take it?

Phoebe said, that's okay -- I'd take the stone (or whatever), and carry it for awhile, and then when the person who gave it to me was gone, I'd put it on the side of the road, because you never know -- someone else might want it!

1 - 2 - 3

one.

I tried once to write something I was thinking, but the pen was broken, so nothing needed to be written.

two.

Before dawn today, I picked some snot and put it next to me on the wooden bench. When rising sun lit on it, I saw Mt. Meru, and all the creatures that dwell there. Then I was the snot, and Mt. Meru was sitting next to me, writing. Later, a bird ate up a blob of snot.

three.

Are you almost there? You're already there. There was nowhere to go. There is not there. The journey was in your mind. But purely, here is no mind. Therefore, there was no journey.

You played with doubt as innocently as a child with a toy.

Daniel Zen

Daniel is 2. He plays in the yard with an old dirty sock.

"I like your old sock." I say.

"No." says Daniel. But he means yes, he appreciates the sock, too.

Later, we are in the kitchen.

"Would you like something to eat, Daniel?"

"No." says Daniel. But by saying no, he means yes, he would like something to eat.

At about 2 o'clock, Daniel looks tired.

"Daniel, would you like to take a nap?"

"No!" yells Daniel. And this time, he really, absolutely, means NO.

Poem - The Prayers of Cracked Pot

this is a story about
cracked pot and you
should not read it because
cracked pot was a maniac
like a wild animal

(his eyes bulged
and his beard and eyebrows
curled)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
he meditated on the misery
of the whole world
saw the intractable nature
of ignorance and grasping
& prayed to the Buddhas

give me thy blessings
for me to build a whorehouse
and with sacred prostitutes
i will bring the swiftest kind
of enlightenment to the reviled

later cracked pot prayed

Buddhas in all directions
innumerable and full of blessings
make me the Buddha
That People Steal From
so in their unforgivable
blasphemous action
they will suddenly realize
the nature of their own mind

and the Buddhas laughed
they said

cracked pot
there are enough whorehouses
and enough stealing and avarice
in this universe and no more
is required nor wanted
we admire your zeal
we admire your passion

but choose a gentler way!

Poem - illusion of being separate

illusion of being separate
what a cunning construct
in this realm of desire
so we keep our whistles
wet

Poem - every day

every day
a perfect sky
and a perfect earth

everything simple
and in a certain place
good or bad

A Great White Crane

"I was surprised! A great white crane flew in today, and landed in my pond. Then he flew out to the West."

"This is a nice little place to visit." says Chung Tzu. "Who knows what can be found here?"

"Bugs, nibbly little roots and plants. Reeds over there, swaying in the wind. A wide blue sky."

"Ahhhhhhh."

"I wonder if I will have more unexpected visitors from far away."

"One never knows. But don't spoil it with more thought, or too many words."

Restless

I asked Chung Tzu about that.

"I feel restless", I said.

"That's great!" said Chung Tzu.

"Why great?"

"Because you have to experience restlessness first, before you can be restful!"

"Restlessness -- that is quite a word."

"It is, ain't it!"

Lao Tzu? Chung Tzu? Who? Who?

I'm sitting there, and I jump up, as if stung by a bee, and I say, "Lao Tzu? Chung Tzu? Who? Who?"

Lao Tzu smiles, Chung Tzu laughs.

------

Who?

Lao Tzu (6th century, B.C.E.) is one of the founding philosophers of Taoism. He is reviered as "The Master", and his words and concepts have profoundly influenced Taoism and Taoistic thinking to the very present day. He is the author of the Tao Te Ching, his magna opus, expressing the Tao, and all aspects of it. He cultivated the concepts of Wu Wei -- the doing through non-action, and the ideal of P'u -- the "Uncarved Block" where you can appear to be simple, and act simply, but get everything done.

Serene, insightful, quiet, and naturally profound in all things without doing or not doing, no effort required, nor non effort. Lao Tzu, here's to you.


Who?

Chung Tzu (369 - 268 B.C.E.) was a leading thinker of Taoist philosophy, often using satire and irrelevance to illustrate the Tao, or "Way". He is noted for humor, and earthy language to make his points clear to the listener. He routinely lampooned worldly religion, famous public figures, and superstition.

In literal translation, he is called Zhuangz. Many call him Master Chuang, Chuang Tzu, Zhuang Tze, or even Chouang Tse. For me, is his more like the Elvis of True Seeing. Or the John Coletrain of Breaking Through.

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CM Evans:

Why do I write these stories?
I do not know why I write them, they just are.
They come to me when I recognize them.
Like a goose honk heard in the sky.

But who am I to write these stories?

Who is a goose to honk in the air?

Old Rancid Pine Nuts!

"People might not like what I do." I say to Chung Tzu.

"Well, I don't know about people -- but the squirrels are certainly angry with you." he replies.

"Really? How do you know that?"

"Goodness gracious! You gave them old rancid pine nuts!"

What is the Answer? What is the Question?

It is July 26th, at the Neuilly-sur-Seine, and Gertrude Stein was about to die. Many of her freinds are nearby, along with her partner & the french windows by her bed are wide open to let in the afternoon light.

“What is the answer?” she asks.

When no answer came she laughed and said, “Then, what is the question?”

Gertrude Stein lets out her last breath. But she is still interested in this line of questioning, even though she has died.

Her spirit floats near the ceiling, she's feeling better than she's ever felt in a long time. Gertrude is mildly amused for the fact that after dying, being dead and looking at your body does not elicit any strong emotional feelings of attachment. But now, what about the inquiry?

Just then, the bell rings, with supernatural sight Gertrude can see it is a semi-idiotic knife sharpener, itinerant peddler, and sporadic flasher Gilles de Staal -- she does not know him, but now she knows all kinds of things at a glance that she never imagined comprehending.

Someone has a pretty maid, who answers the door. When the maid tells Gilles that there is no need for anything to be sharpened, he exposes himself in a comically lewd way. The maid screams hysterically, slamming the door.

Ah! There! Question and answer all in one, for Gertrude Stein. Gratefully she dissolves into a perfect light.

St. Francisco in the Park

I'm in Scofield Park, past the war monument. Looking for Lao Tzu, I see, of all persons, St. Francis of Assisi.

"Hello Francisco."

St. Francis smiles, and motions me to sit on the bench. He is so sweet, so childlike, insisting on holding my hand as the wind blows autumn's leftover leaves higher and higher, towards the green line.

Soon, many birds are all around us, then they are sitting on us, chirping and nibbling on St. Francisco's robe. People are curious, but we are so peaceful, they don't interrupt.

We see Lao Tzu walking up the street, into the park, and up the hill where we sit. St. Francis gets up, saying goodbye to me with his eyes. He and Lao Tzu depart like the two dear freinds they have always been.

Taking a Ride with Chung Tzu

i.

I find Chung Tzu in the livingroom.

"Come here, my darling, and sit with me on the couch, I have a teaching to give you."

I sit with Chung Tzu. He seems to be gathering his thoughts. Then, instead of speaking to me, he plays "Low Rider" on the stereo at ear-splitting volume.

"What was that?" I ask, when the song is done.

"Ah." says Chung Tzu, "Perchance we should have the teaching again. Don't give up."

Chung Tzu plays "Low Rider" again, this time a bit more louder.

"What?" Is all I can say.

"You'll get there. One last time." Chung Tzu plays the song. This time, he sings along to emphasize the lyrics.

"Okay. I got it." I lie.

Chung Tzu seems to be artificially pleased. "Mmmmmm! I admire how receptive you are!"

ii.

After Chung Tzu has left, I find the song & lyrics are stuck in my head all day, endlessly repeating. And eventually, after considering it more, I see Chung Tzu's point clearer and clearer.

I call Chung Tzu, but he's out, so I leave a message on his voicemail, "I got it."

When I check my messages later, I have a message from Chung Tzu, "I know!"

Lao Tzu and Chicken

"I have some winter fat on me." I say to Lao Tzu, who pets the cat.

"Mmmmm." says Lao Tzu, quietly, "I bet you'd taste just like a chicken."

Sharing - or - Playing the Harmonica for a Bunch of Drunken Cowboys

I call Chung Tzu on the phone.

"Hey Chung Tzu!"

"Yaaaassss?" says Chung Tzu like a Dean Moriarty.

"Should I share my writings with other Taoists?"

"Hmmm...let me think about that. I don't play the harmonica that often. Should I go and play for a bunch of drunken cowboys?"

"I know quite a few drunken cowboys. They might like it."

"Is that so?"

"Yaaaaassss....by the way, are you saying Taoists are equivalent to drunken cowboys?"

"That really is quite funny!" Chung Tzu laughs for quite some time.

Chung Tzu and Stove Parts

Chung Tzu comes over with his friend, Stove Parts. They both look at the glistening, put together stove that I cleaned.

"What do you think?" asks Chung Tzu.

"Oh, I think he did a good job." says Stove Parts.

"Was he nice when he did it?"

"Nice enough, I think. But he could work on being nicer."

"Well, okay, kid." says Chung Tzu. "You shouldn't argue with an expert. You passed."

"Thanks so much" I say.

"But don't forget I'm watching you!" says Chung Tzu as he and Stove Parts leave.

Chung Tzu Says Do Something Nice - or - How So

"Do something nice, for a change." says Chung Tzu.

I clean the stove. I put the burner grates in the dishwasher, and set the washer on "Pot Scrub".

"Nice try." says Chung Tzu.

"How so?" I shoot back.

"How so, indeed!" yells Chung Tzu.

At This Point

The wind moves around the house. My two-year-old son won't take a nap. I resolve to leave him in his crib until at least 3.30 PM, he only went down at 2.00 PM. Traffic goes up and down the goddamn road. It never bothered me before, the traffic. Now cars bother me, excessively. This annoyed feeling began last night at 3.00 AM. I have a phone meeting. For some reason, when the meeting starts, I am in a better mood. We tell lame jokes. Most of the team is getting over a cold.

Poem - it just happens

how are you i ask
i'm getting old and i don't like it

i laugh at that

don't laugh it isn't funny getting old
can you still get it up?
i have not tried lately

i laugh again

jesus christ you're so goddamn happy
i'm sorry
no you are still young
so what really is the problem?
that is the problem there is no problem here it just happens

i don't laugh at that

Universal Tree

There are a few things a the museum that are so exciting, I wish to steal them. But, unfortunately, these things I like weigh thousands of pounds. One is a copy of a sarcophagus, the original buried deep in a Mayan temple. On the lid, is a rendering of the cosmic tree of life, the leaves spilling abundantly down the milk of the Universe onto a blessed king who was buried in the stone shell. Taken from one perspective, the carvings look very sci-fi, the king a spaceman lifting off the launch pad, ready for the stars.

Something to Say

What did I want to say? Something clear that came to me, distilled through the purity of dreams. Now in the daylight, lost. But this is okay, because the mechanical music box with the Christmas diorama plays on and on, with the mechanical people in it trimming the tree and celebrating, forever.

I Slept

I was tired of snoring. I was tired of sleeping, but I know you can't avoid sleeping. When I slept, if I wasn't snoring, I was sweating. Thin or thick blankets produced sweat, hot or cold, it didn't make a difference. I would wake up from time to time, and I was scared I would see a ghostly figure in the door. I saw a ghostly figure by the closet, but this was a robe. Sleeping again, I didn't know where I was, in the house or the flat. I'd look for a window, and it was a wall, I'd look at for a chest of drawers with a painting on it, and see a television and a mirror. A voice told me quietly, never write with red ink, it is unlucky to do so. I agreed. I slept.

Young Groucho Marx

I dream Groucho Marx is young, not wearing his trademark greasepaint eyebrows & mustache. He's sitting in a expensive hotel room, drunk as a skunk. I think he wants the phone to ring. Harpo comes in, looking very debonair in a expensive suit, smoking a cigar. Groucho and Harpo start to talk, but this exchange evolves suddenly into an explosive, profanity-laden argument. A lamp is broken, a small table is upended, spilling silverware and china in a tinkling miniature avalanche. Harpo leaves with Groucho violently gesticulating, jumping up and down on the bed. Alone, Groucho collapses on the floor, but after holding still, and looking at the silverware from eye-level, he crawls to the window, where a bottle of booze is. While Groucho is taking a sip, Chico kicks the door open, and yells at Groucho for a few minutes. He leaves, and Groucho stays sitting on the floor with an open window right above his head. I can see a distant streetlight, as the drapes blow gently in and out. He crosses his legs, holding the bottle of whiskey wedged between his thighs. It is quiet for about 10 minutes, Groucho barely moving. Then the phone rings, thank God, the phone is ringing! It rings and rings, but he does not answer.

Hope

I go to the reading. I think I am too excited. Everyone is jaded. They think I am a rube. We eat dinner. I am too engaged. People get offended. I have no freinds. I have no "circle". I only mean well. They dismiss me. Oh, well. I am used to being alone. It could be a good thing. I'll never stop. What is the point of it all? To go on. And have hope.

Poem - tell me

tell me i am your santa to a christmas tree
or the atomic bomb in your heart

tell me i am better than peanut butter
with sliced bread

tell that without me soda has no fizz
and hell hath no fury

tell this attraction is illogical
beyond concepts or trivial words

give up please give up
and we can watch the moon

i'll sleep holding onto your arm
and you will know we are together

Do You Know How Much I Love You?

i.

I dream lucidly about books, about being a book, on how we are all books.

ii.

I take June to school, at the Loop. The Loop is quietly exciting, quietly impressive, quietly quiet. Oh blue sky, which I have described (didactically) too many times, as fine. But it is true. You are a fine blue sky.

iii.

I race back to Oak Park, for no apparent reason.

iv.

Is it iv or vi? No, it is iv.

V.

Sweet 5.

vi.

Is it vi, or iv -- terrible is the uncertainty. I could look it up on the "Internets".

vii.

I don't.

viii.

Do you know how much I love you?

ix.

Do not delay.

I Am an Idiot

I don't understand lots of stuff, but I know my capacity to be an idiot, is limitless. I am an educated polite buffoon, and you should never think I am more than that. For me, being a buffoon is enough. The education happened because I thought it would improve my buffoonery. Being polite keeps me out of jail.

Webpage - F*** My Life

I found this website today -- F*** My Life -- through the excellent pointers blog Look At This. People join and submit short anecdotes about terrible things that have happened to them. Many of the entries are quite hilarious, and tragic, in equal parts. I loved the one where a kid came back from college, and found out his family took a family trip to Thailand, without him. He thought the picture on the mantelpiece was photoshopped, of everyone but him, with a jungle and an elephant, but no, it was real.

About a year ago I made a horrendous faux pas, in front of all my new neighbors. We were having a Father's Day block party and I turned to the older gentleman sitting next to me and wished him a Happy Father's Day. I don't know what compelled me to do it, because I didn't know him. Everyone sitting at the table got quiet. The man asked me why I thought he was a father, but he had been a father. It turns out his grown up son had died very recently, and the family was coping with it difficultly.

Calling People

He calls people at random, and leaves short messages.

"Marmut's Revenge."

"Rubber dog poo."

"Glass Doornob."

"Forbidden Idol."

He calls the flower shop down the way, and pretends the flower shop and he are two Russian submariners, each sailor trapped in compartments on opposite ends of the boat. The girl who works at the shop knows who he is, and is secretly in love with him, though she thinks he is embarrassingly strange.

Many people who he phones at random, who have caller-ID, call back. He responds to their insults, or inquiries, while talking through a comb, wrapped in a piece of wax paper, over his lips.

The flower shop girl is 25, she has long blond hair. The kind of hair you want to touch. She is annoyed, and appreciative of this, all at once.

I'll Be Back Soon

i.

He does not ride the bus right. He is dancing, singing, roughhousing playfully with old ladies (some of whom, laugh at this) and he tries to look out of as many windows of the bus, as possible, in the shortest span of time. This can't last too long, but it lasts longer than it could. Back on the sidewalk, after he imitated a helicopter, he sees a big leftover lump of dirty snow and he picks it up. He finds a cop and shoves it down the back of the bullet-proof vest. He runs towards Grant Park, the peace officer waving a pistol in the air.

ii.

After hiding in the bushes for several hours, near the Bean, he decides to go to a bar. He has no money. He pays for four drinks with a feather, bartender takes the feather. There is a cute girl who seems to like him. He reminds her of a friend of hers. She buys him a drink and they go back to her small apartment that is directly across from the El where they make love. Between lovemaking sessions, they talk about Cuba, Egyptian pyramid building techniques, ancient Chinese discoveries, and maps. They both get a bit frisky, drinking some wine from a small jug on the floor.

iii.

He wakes up in the late morning and finds that the girl is gone, she has handcuffed his left wrist to the bed. The trains rumbling by shake the whole apartment in an exciting way. A lovely note says, "I'll be back soon." There are cookies and big glass of water within reach.

Appreciation

The white cat noses around, suspiciously -- he's the cat that likes to chew on wires, and in the process, has ruined several very expensive pieces of electronic equipment. We're talking about that $500.00 Bang and Olufsen telephone, and a very high tech headset, two cell-phone chargers, a fax machine, and an all-in-one printer. All the cats are acting like they are starving, as white cat walks behind my laptop and thinks about nibbling on the edge of the screen. For me, a two-year-old is methodically disassembling the house as I sit through 6 hour phone meetings all week long. Important things need to get done, in a certain order, if I could only remember all of them and prioritize them, but I have little help in doing this from the very people it would benefit. I am tempted to write longer, more convoluted sentences, but I stop myself. On days like these, I almost become convinced that appreciation is something that decreases over time, the longer you know someone.

Poem - Hey Fritz

it snows and i really miss you
a damn cat

i'd give anything to have you back
and see how your stripes looked

i pine for you because you belonged here
quite perfectly

a southern californian cat
just ashes now

Tuesday

i.

One kid is awake at 6 AM. I ignore him until about a quarter to seven. He can't get out of his crib, but that might change by next week. Then I'll hear a giggle and a yell & have a hotwheel rammed into my face. I get up and we kick ourselves outta the flat. Breakfast at the house. Phoebe to school. Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants. Meetings.

ii.

How I'd like to have a doughnut.

Poem - 13

burning my days down
as if they were free

& they are not
the cost is high

i am good
but i don't act good

bored in the churches
of reason

Proud Daniel

I want to go to the bathroom alone, privately, but for Daniel, who is 2, this would be like missing the Superbowl. So I'm going to the bathroom in the smallest bathroom of the house, a water closet, and Daniel is right there with me. Almost on top of me, really. Rolling his toy car over my toes, as I try to go. And I'm trying to read a story I like. But I can't concentrate, so I give up.

Outside, it is raining. When I'm done, I get up, and Daniel points at the water in the toilet, and he yells, "Poooooo!" "You're right!" I reply. Together, we flush the toilet. "Bye Bye!" yells Daniel as the toilet empties. "Thanks for the help, Daniel." I say. Daniel is very proud, and later, he squeezes the cat extra hard.

Flushing Toilets

I did it. I had every toilet in the bathroom flushing, all at once. The sound was glorious, a magnificent symphony of porcelain and vibrating plumbing. Once I got the timing right, I was able to get the stalls to fire off repeatedly, several times in a row -- filling the shining white restroom with a uninterrupted wall of sound. People came in and left, but I could see they absolutely approved of my activity, as any five-year-old assumes.

Too soon, it was over. My mother managed to get a nice, big man to go into the bathroom, and he escorted me out. When I was reunited with her, I realized I was so excited, that I forgot to go pee. I managed to hold it all the long way home.

Ants and Other Things

I dream I am trying to sleep, when an ant gets in my mouth....in the dream about trying to sleep. In the dream, I wake up, and I'm trying to figure out why I'm getting stray ants in my mouth, because it is disconcerting. I turn the covers over, and see there are 40 or 50 ants between the sheets. I shake out the bedding and wonder why my bed, or the sheets are attracting so many ants. The ants seem lethargic, and there is no food to attract them. It is a real mystery. I can't figure it out. I don't know what they want, or why the ants are there. All I want to do is to sleep in my dream, without being worried about ants getting in my mouth. And in worrying about this, I wake up for real, and I see a softly glowing series of numbers. It is the clock, showing 2.33 AM. I check the sheets, and there are no ants. After turning off the light, I lay back down, and I watch the ceiling. It isn't doing much. Just there, a white surface.

---

As I fall asleep, I believe I hear someone out on the sidewalk shoveling snow. Who shovels snow in the middle of the night?

The Bleebs

He had the "Bleebs". He thought it was a funny word, until the doctor explained what it was.

'Where did it come from, doc?" he said, his mouth suddenly quite dry.

"India, at first, we think." said the doctor, quietly, seriously.

"And the prognosis?"

"I'm sorry to say, but...the Bleebs..."

"Give it to me straight, doc."

"The Bleebs are fatal."

"How much time do I have?"

"Seconds -- hours, weeks, even years. There is no way of telling. But you have it. The Bleebs."

In the hallway, he could distinctly hear some kind of medical equipment, probably in another room, beeping softly, constantly, maddeningly...until it was shut off.

WOW!

As we get the king-sized mattress into the truck, the jet, it passes over low and loud. Miramar is gearing up for Aviation Week, so the Phantoms and other jets are practicing their routines. Phoebe does this kind of herky-jerky dance of terror -- I've seen small children do it before when they are unexpectedly filled with terror. It's funny and heartbreaking at the same time, and I scoop her up, and we both say, "WOW!".

Poem - i'm sorry/ he said

i'm sorry
he said

here are poems
deep in me

the very best
ones

and i could not
bring them

it is my fault
my lack of skill

there is one now
gliding away

slippery
i cannot touch it

Chung Tzu Says I'm a LUCKY DOG

"If I have accomplished anything, it was largely due to the unrequested kindness of others." I say to Chung Tzu.

"You LUCKY DOG!" Chung Tzu exclaims.

-----

Frederick Larrabee: She's a delight Bannister, a delight and you're a lucky dog.
Howard: I...
Frederick Larrabee: Admit it! Admit you're a lucky dog.
Howard: I'm a lucky dog.

Lao Tzu and 10,000 Years

"If you do something for yourself, in authenticity, you could be doing it, also, for others."

Lao Tzu nods gently, and says almost imperceptibly, "Meditate on that for a time as long as 10,000 years, and you could go far."

Should I Move to Iceland?

With windchill, it is -25 degrees, or even -35 degrees, otherwise, the thermometer is steady at -1. The day is brilliantly sunny, not a cloud in the sky. The snow is like sand, blowing off the rooftops in a crystalline spray, no birds out today. To cold for even the little birds, I wonder where they are. The car has trouble starting, I make sure the garage is sealed up tight when I get back, to conserve warmth. Now you can feel every nook or cranny in the house that leaks cold air, but the good news is the few leaky windows or doors are now sealed with blankets or towels. All in all, we're snug and content, watching TV reruns in bed and eating ice-cream, of all things. Tonight, -14, to -18 as a low, not counting the wind. I love it. Should I move to Iceland?

A Sleepy Discussion with Chung Tzu

After a period of lucid dreaming, I am having a hard time waking up. I feel half immersed in dreams, even when I am brushing my teeth.

I go outside, and see that it is pleasantly snowing. When I get to the house, Chung Tzu is in the kitchen.

"I had lucid dreams before I woke up, and now I'm trying to be awake." I say to him.

"No, you're still asleep." Chung Tzu says.

"How can I wake up?"

"Well, the best you've done, is to be semi-awake."

"When was that?"

"Oh, I guess about 7 months ago, for about 15 minutes."

"I guess that's better than nothing."

"Sure. I think, possibly, you'll be semi-awake again in about 6 weeks."

"If I go on retreat?"

"Yeah. You tend to be very sleepy around here."

We are quiet. He blows on his tea. Meanwhile, I see it has been gently, softly snowing, all along.

"Going on a retreat would be nice."

"Snow"

I come in after shoveling snow. Lao Tzu is sitting in the kitchen.

"Snow!" I say.

"What is 'Snow'?" he asks, almost to himself.

--

Later, Chung Tzu is here.

"What do you think about 'Snow'?" I ask him, innocently as possible.

"I think it is a very good 'Idea'" says Chung Tzu.

Molested

1.

It was on the Church Street line, in a crowded train, absolutely packed, at rush hour, when I got molested. Doesn't every straight guy in San Francisco have some variation of this story? I'm in the middle of the train, in the crush, when more commuters get on, and suddenly I'm aware of the short guy wearing a business suit and a expensive tan overcoat. I notice him, because he's behind me, facing me, with the coat open, and he's pressing his whole body up against my side. And he has an erection. He's staring at me, with no expression, really, his face has a fine sheen of sweat on it. He's about 45, I can smell his aftershave, he has 5 o'clock shadow on his chin -- no expression, leaning hard against me. I have five stops to go, but I blush like a girl, I'm probably red head to foot. I don't know if that satisfies him, but as the train lurches forward, and we all sway, he decides to try it on someone else. This time he tries it on an older gay man. I get off the train at the next stop, and walk the rest of the way home.

2.

My wife told me a story one time, about her first trip to Europe. When she was in Italy, she saw the older Italian man following a cute blonde in a short skirt up an escalator. Apparently, the girl wasn't aware that the Italian was two steps below her on the escalator, with his neat salt and pepper hair, his nose about 1 inch from the back of her ass. He rode that way all the way up, she never turned around and saw him. Or maybe she knew right away, and she blushed & froze, just like I did.

1.45 AM, in Oak Park

We decide to go out and have a smoke. It's about 1.45 AM, in Oak Park. Not too cold, but quiet. As we're out there, a funny little guy comes out of nowhere, he wants to be a part of our conversation. He's about 5'8", 145 pounds, neatly dressed in a sweater and jeans, with fine gold spectacles. Neat as a pin, preppy, well groomed. Friendly. What the hell does he want behind that constant smiling? He tells us that he moved a year ago to Wicker Park, him and his lovely girlfriend. They just decided to pick up and go with a few bucks in their pockets to Chicago, and try it out here. And my pal and I were discussing age, and how we are pushing 40, and he says we're fine looking, handsome guys -- you wouldn't know we were that old. Weird little screwball. We are polite, and we disengage from the chat session, and go back in the bar. I'm going back in too! The kid says, and after we sit down, he passes us and heads for the restroom at the back. Both me and my pal, at the same time, say, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? Where did that weird little guy come from? What the hell is someone from Wicker Park doing out here, at 2 AM in the morning. You can't get a cab, and the trains are done running. I look down to the back of the bar, and I swear, the little guy never comes out of the restroom. Bizarre. Where did he go? Where's his girlfriend? We decide to go outside one more time, to see if he'll pop up again. Nope, he's gone, back into thin air. Trolled by a rent-boy.

Poem - are you from out of town

are you from out of town
you talk loudly in the bar
like you are on vacation
you laugh a big fake laugh
horribly mirthful

if you talked that loudly
every day where you live
people would grow to hate you
but who knows
they might already

your other freinds arrive
each time i can tell
because you get louder
absolutely thrilled
out of your mind

not to be an asshole but
if i was as thrilled as you sound
i'd have a massive heart attack
and they'd have to take me away
in a rubber body bag

finally it is time to go
i hear you all the way out
and now i can relax
as you shriek with delight
in the street

He Lied to Children

After we graduated High School, my friend Jake rented a room in a house with two hyperactive boys, whose mother didn't pay enough attention to them, while she dated bikers. Naturally the kids cleaved onto Jake as a surrogate older brother, who wasn't adverse to roughhousing and generally entertaining them the way their absent father would. But I never met their father, and as far as I know, he was never around. I think the boys will always remember Jake as being an amazing diversion from that.

Jake would whirl them in the air, toss them again and again into the overstuffed couch...but the favorite game was called "Hide and Seek Baseball". This would involve the boys hiding in the living room, and Jake putting on a gorilla mask. He'd then get a sleeping bag with three pillows stuffed into it, and he'd chase them all around and hit them with the sleeping bag until the whole house shook. If anybody cried, they'd stop and watch cartoons and have a snack. The boys were never bored when Jake was around.

With this routine set, whenever Jake came home, if the kids were around, they'd run to his room. If his door was shut, they'd pound on it, and ask him what he was doing in his room. The irritating thing, especially in the summer, was if the door was closed & locked, it was because Jake wanted to make love to his girlfriend. So something had to be done.

One day, when his girlfriend wasn't around, Jake sat down with the boys, and had a chat with them. He explained that he had just found out that his girlfriend had been diagnosed with a rare heart condition, and if the boys were too loud around her, or startled her by banging on the door, she could have a heart attack, and die. This was a terrible problem to live with, but hopefully the doctors would find a cure, but until then, the kids would have to be extra careful when his girlfriend was around.

And the lie mostly worked. They certainly never banged on the door and asked Jake what he was doing when he had his door shut. Those damn kids would just about believe anything. Many years later, after Jake and his girlfriend were married, she found out why the two boys suddenly became so scared of her -- and Jake told her the story, thinking it hilariously funny. She did not find the story amusing.

I decided if I outlive Jake, this will be his epitaph:

HERE IS BURIED
JACOB HOWCROFF BENNINGS

1968 - 20--

HE LIED TO CHILDREN

Chung Tzu Would Like to Kick Cupid's Ass

"Sometimes a "bird in the hand" gives you nothing but sorrow." I remark to Chung Tzu.

"Cupid!" exclaims Chung Tzu. "I don't get mad easily -- but when I hear shit like that, I want to KICK HIS ASS!"

We look outside. Lao Tzu is in the backyard, reading it like a illustration in a fairy-tale.

THE DEATH OF LOVE

A Journey in Eight Poems

On The Road

deep into
treacherous godforsaken
waste
eternal optimism
just ran out of
fucking gas
about 50 miles
back and now
i'm on foot

cupid rides
donuts around me
on a motorcycle
and then is
gone in a cloud
of dust

refrain:

i shall
not see thee
in the morning
because thou
split

-------

The Day Before My Trip

cupid comes
to me
in a dream
and he seems
quite freindly

"go to death valey
and bring me
something back"

so i reply
"borax? you
want some borax?"

but cupid
is gone

(refrain)

---------

Anything To Escape

i left my heart
in the middle of
the death valley
where the
sun and the
wind
mercilessly
devoured it

(refrain)

---------

Comment

cupid
encourages some
women to
make cute little
bunny noises
either when
they have
sex or sneeze
or both

in this way
a potential
erection
is considerably
modified

---------

Shit Out Of A Sweater

cupid
punches me in
the stomach

while in pain
i rest my cheek
on the cool
cement of the
sidewalk

"you can't
knit
shit
into a
sweater"
cupid says

-----------

Sexual Harassment

cupid can
break any man
women or
animal that
walks this earth
in half

cupid hangs
out at a
pizza pallor
eating onions
and drinking beer

harassing
he young beautiful
waitress
till she cries

------------

Death of Love I

i told my lover
about you
in the restaurant
in north beach
and then i cried
and she said
she'd go to seattle
and kick your ass
for me
and i laughed

-------------

Death of Love II

i'm in
line in the
supermarket -- so
i write on a receipt:

cupid is a
drunk old fuck
who doesn't
give a shit
about me

i write love
poetry and
he just laughs
like he's out
of his mind
& does
nothing

i would
love all women

if i were
less discerning

or more
loving

i would prefer
to me more
loving
for
love is good for life
and life is good for love

-------------

At the end of this story, Cupid reads what I wrote, some of it from a long time back. He has his boots up on the corner of the table, I notice for the first time his eyes are blue. "I like it." says Cupid. "If you like it, then let's settle up." I reply. Cupid smiles. "There is no settling up. Just like I can't stop being Cupid." "Is there an easier way?" I ask. "Sure" he says. "Never deviate from the Truth."

diligo dat nos valde gaudium quod moestitia

Poem - the record has a skip in it/ a storm is coming

the record has a skip in it
a storm is coming
tornado possible

what is that bumping
postman most likely
bringing the mail

it is like they say
no news is good news
except for a storm

Poem - The Day After Christmas

coming home i almost slipped on ice
now i am wrestling tigers
while typing this one handed as
i called and said it will definitely
be a baby girl due in april

Poem - on christmas morning

on christmas morning
i see exactly
why cats
were invented

they are designed
to watch
mineral water
bubbles rise

with their eyes
and their ears
very very close
to the sides
of the bottle

-- Oak Park, 2008

Poem - freezing fog/ down the side of the house

freezing fog
down the side of the house
out onto the road
where cars move slowly

in the backyard
play equipment covered
wagon filled with snow
holding still

Statements

Facts:
- You cannot make the proverbial "Deal with the Devil" and remain pure. The "Deal" puts you of the Road to Hell. Any method of "The End Justifies the Means" is instantly and ultimately corrupting. It is a path of weakness.
- If you wish to represent, or uphold the Rule of Civilization, you cannot resemble your enemies.

Ultimately, and quite simply, on the Ethical Level, our "Virtue" is only valuable in contrast:
- If your enemies torture, then you must not torture.
- If your enemies disregard the Geneva Conventions, you must uphold the Geneva Conventions.
- If there are atrocities, you must perform no atrocities.

Truths:
- It is better not to kill.
- It is better not to bomb.
- It is better not to starve people.
- It is better not to mistreat prisoners.
- It is better not to indiscriminately incarcerate.
- Your enemies will do all of the above.

If:
- You debase, you are debased.

There is no escape from acting Badly. Those who have acted in this way, in time, will not deny this fact. Even if they acted Badly under the command of others, they have scoured their soul.

And:
Tremble if you do Ill, and aimed to do It. Tremble if you do Ill, by circumstances, or by pure accident.

So:
There is no "hook", there is only what we do. You cannot escape your actions. It is insane to mistreat anyone.