Na was dreaming. She was standing at the edge of a brilliant green field of ripe rice. A small boy stood by her side. The sky was full of luminescent rainclouds . They didn’t obscure the sun, but transformed the light into golden beams which crisscrossed the sky. A gust of wind was blowing towards them, turning the rice paddy into a shifting emerald sea. The boy put his arms around her waist, bracing himself against the gale. She held him tight and together they closed their eyes, smiling into the wind.
Na woke up with a jolt. She winced against the harsh flourescent light flickering overhead.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
the forest of fairy chasm
I grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan in southeastern Wisconsin. The neighborhood I lived in was called Fairy Chasm. It was a beautiful place to be a child.
There was a forest next to my house that stretched for thousands of miles along the coast. If you lost your way in that sprawling labyrinth of oak and pine, it would surely take years to find your way out. Perhaps, if you were lucky, you might come across one of the many moss kingdoms that were scattered throughout the woods. You could enter through the rotten gates and climb your way to the tops of the towering wooden spires, where you could plead for help with the great lords. They would look down at you pityingly from upon their thrones of pungent fungus, their robes of iridescent moss flowing majestically around them and crowns of perfect white birch on their heads. Perhaps, after much begging, they would send you on your way with a map and a bag of supplies so could survive the long journey through the forest.
If you weren't so lucky you could lose your way in the gloom marshes, places where the sun never reaches the ground. Trees of absurd height blot out the sky, and soupy mists obscure the treacherous ground. Sinkholes are everywhere, all leading to the depths of a giant subterranean ocean. You might fall into one and slip downwards into the ancient green water, clawing at nothing but old roots as you descend. If you could hold your breath for long enough perhaps you would survive and wash up on the pitch-black shores of that great sea under the earth. You would feel your way way across the sandy grit for weeks until you found a spiral stairway leading upward. After climbing the miles to the surface you might emerge under a magnificent weeping willow, whose endless tears feed a small and winding creek. If you followed this creek it would take you through the land of skeleton trees where no flora or fauna lived, except for the fearsome but tiny mite trolls. If you minded your wits and kept away from the mite trolls' patrols, you could find follow the creek to its mouth where it released itself into the lake Michigan. You might decide to build a hut on the beach, from whale bones and giant pomegranate shells and moss, and wait for a ship to come. It may be years before you see one, but when you do, you could ignite your incensed pyre of fossils and twigs so that the ship might notice and come to your rescue.
If the ship is not attacked by large mollusks nor capsized by fearsome typhoon winds, you may make it back to your neighborhood, where you can regale your friends and family with your many stories of adventure in the forest of Fairy Chasm.
There was a forest next to my house that stretched for thousands of miles along the coast. If you lost your way in that sprawling labyrinth of oak and pine, it would surely take years to find your way out. Perhaps, if you were lucky, you might come across one of the many moss kingdoms that were scattered throughout the woods. You could enter through the rotten gates and climb your way to the tops of the towering wooden spires, where you could plead for help with the great lords. They would look down at you pityingly from upon their thrones of pungent fungus, their robes of iridescent moss flowing majestically around them and crowns of perfect white birch on their heads. Perhaps, after much begging, they would send you on your way with a map and a bag of supplies so could survive the long journey through the forest.
If you weren't so lucky you could lose your way in the gloom marshes, places where the sun never reaches the ground. Trees of absurd height blot out the sky, and soupy mists obscure the treacherous ground. Sinkholes are everywhere, all leading to the depths of a giant subterranean ocean. You might fall into one and slip downwards into the ancient green water, clawing at nothing but old roots as you descend. If you could hold your breath for long enough perhaps you would survive and wash up on the pitch-black shores of that great sea under the earth. You would feel your way way across the sandy grit for weeks until you found a spiral stairway leading upward. After climbing the miles to the surface you might emerge under a magnificent weeping willow, whose endless tears feed a small and winding creek. If you followed this creek it would take you through the land of skeleton trees where no flora or fauna lived, except for the fearsome but tiny mite trolls. If you minded your wits and kept away from the mite trolls' patrols, you could find follow the creek to its mouth where it released itself into the lake Michigan. You might decide to build a hut on the beach, from whale bones and giant pomegranate shells and moss, and wait for a ship to come. It may be years before you see one, but when you do, you could ignite your incensed pyre of fossils and twigs so that the ship might notice and come to your rescue.
If the ship is not attacked by large mollusks nor capsized by fearsome typhoon winds, you may make it back to your neighborhood, where you can regale your friends and family with your many stories of adventure in the forest of Fairy Chasm.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
the man in the bushes
I live on a hill in Los Angeles. It's a not a big hill. It has just enough of an incline to tax your breathing slightly while walking up it. That's what I do. I walk down it in the morning and then back up in the evening. Sometimes while I'm walking up and down the hill I see homeless men sitting in the bushes by the side of the road. Sometimes they're talking to eachother. Sometimes they're just watching the street and the people on the street who are usually going somewhere else in a great hurry. On one occasion one of the men spoke to me. It was a cold, windy day, and the sun was just disappearing under the smoggy horizon. "Aren't you cold?" the brown, bearded face asked me. "Freezing," I replied, never breaking my stride up the hill.
A few days ago, while I was walking home from work, I saw a coroner's truck and a police car parked at the foot of the hill. The coroner's truck had the words "CORONER" written on it. As I approached, I saw that there were people standing in the bushes, looking at something on the ground. A female police officer stood on the sidwalk. She appeared to be standing guard, or at she least thought she should appear to be doing so. She was smiling. She was very important. I stopped walking and looked into the bushes. I still couldn't see what it was that everyone was looking at.
"What happened?" I asked the officer.
"It's okay, some guy just got real sick," she replied soothingly.
"Did he die?"
"Yeah..." she said with a drawn out tone of mild regret. She almost stopped smiling.
"Oh." I couldn't think of anything else to say.
She told me then to move along, smiling and waving her hands in a gentle shooing motion. I moved along, and kept walking up the hill.
The next day, I thought of the dead man in the bushes as I walked home. I wondered how he had died. I wondered if he had had a family. I wondered if they knew he was dead. I wondered if they cared. I wondered about many things as I neared the place where the man had died. I looked into the bushes as I started up the hill. Someone was sitting in the same spot where the body of the dead man had lain yesterday. He was young, no more than thirty. He didn't have a beard, but a surprisingly well-trimmed mustache. He looked like he had been crying. I thought about stopping to question him. I could have asked him if he had known the dead man. I could have asked him if he knew the man's name. But I didn't stop. I kept walking up the hill.
A few days ago, while I was walking home from work, I saw a coroner's truck and a police car parked at the foot of the hill. The coroner's truck had the words "CORONER" written on it. As I approached, I saw that there were people standing in the bushes, looking at something on the ground. A female police officer stood on the sidwalk. She appeared to be standing guard, or at she least thought she should appear to be doing so. She was smiling. She was very important. I stopped walking and looked into the bushes. I still couldn't see what it was that everyone was looking at.
"What happened?" I asked the officer.
"It's okay, some guy just got real sick," she replied soothingly.
"Did he die?"
"Yeah..." she said with a drawn out tone of mild regret. She almost stopped smiling.
"Oh." I couldn't think of anything else to say.
She told me then to move along, smiling and waving her hands in a gentle shooing motion. I moved along, and kept walking up the hill.
The next day, I thought of the dead man in the bushes as I walked home. I wondered how he had died. I wondered if he had had a family. I wondered if they knew he was dead. I wondered if they cared. I wondered about many things as I neared the place where the man had died. I looked into the bushes as I started up the hill. Someone was sitting in the same spot where the body of the dead man had lain yesterday. He was young, no more than thirty. He didn't have a beard, but a surprisingly well-trimmed mustache. He looked like he had been crying. I thought about stopping to question him. I could have asked him if he had known the dead man. I could have asked him if he knew the man's name. But I didn't stop. I kept walking up the hill.
Friday, April 20, 2007
a dog maybe
There were no clouds to be seen in the perfectly blue tropical sky overhead. Nothing to separate my unfortunate pale flesh from the burning sun as I walked down the streets of Chiang Mai. "There are three seasons in Thailand," my TEFL teacher had once told me, "the hot season, the hot rainy season, and the fucking hot season." Wiping the sweat from my freshly sunburned forehead, I couldn't help but agree. It was the end of April, and the height of the (fucking) hot season. I began to question the wisdom of my choice to venture outside of my cool, dark apartment and its blessed fan. I thought about turning around and heading back. I could always go out tomorrow for a photo shooting expedition, and tomorrow might not be so hot. But hell, I was almost to the temple. I could already see the crumbling remains of of the ancient central stupa jutting out from behind the jumbled shops which lined the road. I trudged onward through the thick air. It occured to me that perhaps intense discomfort and risk of heat stroke was not worth saving twenty baht on the taxi fare, but I quickly dismissed this thought as nonsense.
Finally, I stumbled through the open gates of Wat Chediluang. Milling about in the main square were saffron-clothed monks, Thai worshippers and tourists whose flushed complexions and haggard demeanor suggested that we shared a similarly dismal acclimatization to our host country's environment. I took out my camera and began snapping shots of the standard temple fare, all the while keeping my eyes open for anything that might make an actually intriguing photograph. Walking between the temples, bells and stone naga, I saw something which made me pause. Some sort of creature was laying on one of the stupas. It was white, or at least should have been. Its fur was smudged with sooty spots of black grime and the pitiable pink of open wounds. It was not self-conscious about its decrepit appearance. It lay calmly upon the peeling white paint and regarded me with cool black eyes.
"Hello," I said to the strange beast.
"Hello," it replied in a rasp whisper.
"Excuse my ignorance, but what exactly are you?" I asked.
"I am an ancient dragon."
"You don't look like a dragon."
"Don't be ridiculous. I am a great and mighty dragon. Do you not see my glorious wings?" It arched its scrawny back.
"Do you not see my fearsome claws and my razor-sharp fangs?" It bared its broken and blunt teeth while feebly pawing at the air.
"I could destroy this city with great breaths of liquid fire." It panted from the exertion of speaking.
I remained unconvinced. "But you don't have wings, and you are small and frail."
"THAT IS ABSURD!" the creature attempted to roar. It came out sounding like a scratchy wheeze.
I rolled my eyes.
"Very well," I said, "you are a great and mighty dragon, and it was an honor to meet you. Goodbye."
As I turned to leave, the ancient, great and mighty dragon leaped off of the stupa and into the air. It spread its glorious wings and swooped down upon me, grabbing me with its fearsome claws and lifting me into the air. Up we flew from the temple grounds, higher and higher until the city beneath us was nothing but a patchwork of greys and browns and greens. A 747 flew through the sky nearby. The dragon breathed deeply, then expelled a blast of liquid flame from its razor-studded maw. The stream of flame enveloped the plane, which exploded in a beautiful plume of jet fuel and dragon fire. We flew higher still, until I could see the curves of the Earth and the clouds and the oceans. We flew through space and time and I saw the world shimmer and shift and the cities turn into trees and fire and water and clay. We flew away from Earth through the solar system and into the Sun. The dragon clawed his way through the atomic inferno until we reached the center of the star and saw the glorious Sun Kingdom, a symmetrical three dimensional palace stretching millions of cubic miles and wreathed in white flame and violet flowers. The great dragon waged war on the Sun King's army and devoured the Sun Princess and then we were on our way, out of the sun and through the Milky Way Galaxy, through the empty embrace of space and the scattered chaos of time. We flew into a writhing black hole and saw Hell in all its dimensions, where everything was still and none of the Damned really cared about much at all. We careened through a cosmic crevice out of Hell and into a planar hurricane that whipped pure energy into a swirling froth and stretched millions of years in every direction. The dragon twisted and turned as it flew and I felt the winds of everything and the stillness of nothing touch my face. I caught a glimpse of Heaven to my right, but we didn't go there although it looked very pleasant. We entered a spasming tunnel of light which was collapsing and reforming itself a thousand times every second. Up ahead in the distance I saw April of the year 2006. I saw the face of the planet Earth and the continent of Asia and the country of Thailand and the city of Chiang Mai and the quiet temple Chediluang where the dragon then released me from its talons and I fell to the ground. The great beast returned to its spot on the white stupa and laid down contentedly. I rose to my feet. It was very hot outside that day, and I decided to return to the cool comfort of my room. I could always take pictures of temples another day. I took a taxi back to my apartment. It cost me twenty baht. After showering, I laid down in front of the cool breeze produced by my fan. I fell asleep then, and dreamed of dragons and of nothingness.
Finally, I stumbled through the open gates of Wat Chediluang. Milling about in the main square were saffron-clothed monks, Thai worshippers and tourists whose flushed complexions and haggard demeanor suggested that we shared a similarly dismal acclimatization to our host country's environment. I took out my camera and began snapping shots of the standard temple fare, all the while keeping my eyes open for anything that might make an actually intriguing photograph. Walking between the temples, bells and stone naga, I saw something which made me pause. Some sort of creature was laying on one of the stupas. It was white, or at least should have been. Its fur was smudged with sooty spots of black grime and the pitiable pink of open wounds. It was not self-conscious about its decrepit appearance. It lay calmly upon the peeling white paint and regarded me with cool black eyes.
"Hello," I said to the strange beast.
"Hello," it replied in a rasp whisper.
"Excuse my ignorance, but what exactly are you?" I asked.
"I am an ancient dragon."
"You don't look like a dragon."
"Don't be ridiculous. I am a great and mighty dragon. Do you not see my glorious wings?" It arched its scrawny back.
"Do you not see my fearsome claws and my razor-sharp fangs?" It bared its broken and blunt teeth while feebly pawing at the air.
"I could destroy this city with great breaths of liquid fire." It panted from the exertion of speaking.
I remained unconvinced. "But you don't have wings, and you are small and frail."
"THAT IS ABSURD!" the creature attempted to roar. It came out sounding like a scratchy wheeze.
I rolled my eyes.
"Very well," I said, "you are a great and mighty dragon, and it was an honor to meet you. Goodbye."
As I turned to leave, the ancient, great and mighty dragon leaped off of the stupa and into the air. It spread its glorious wings and swooped down upon me, grabbing me with its fearsome claws and lifting me into the air. Up we flew from the temple grounds, higher and higher until the city beneath us was nothing but a patchwork of greys and browns and greens. A 747 flew through the sky nearby. The dragon breathed deeply, then expelled a blast of liquid flame from its razor-studded maw. The stream of flame enveloped the plane, which exploded in a beautiful plume of jet fuel and dragon fire. We flew higher still, until I could see the curves of the Earth and the clouds and the oceans. We flew through space and time and I saw the world shimmer and shift and the cities turn into trees and fire and water and clay. We flew away from Earth through the solar system and into the Sun. The dragon clawed his way through the atomic inferno until we reached the center of the star and saw the glorious Sun Kingdom, a symmetrical three dimensional palace stretching millions of cubic miles and wreathed in white flame and violet flowers. The great dragon waged war on the Sun King's army and devoured the Sun Princess and then we were on our way, out of the sun and through the Milky Way Galaxy, through the empty embrace of space and the scattered chaos of time. We flew into a writhing black hole and saw Hell in all its dimensions, where everything was still and none of the Damned really cared about much at all. We careened through a cosmic crevice out of Hell and into a planar hurricane that whipped pure energy into a swirling froth and stretched millions of years in every direction. The dragon twisted and turned as it flew and I felt the winds of everything and the stillness of nothing touch my face. I caught a glimpse of Heaven to my right, but we didn't go there although it looked very pleasant. We entered a spasming tunnel of light which was collapsing and reforming itself a thousand times every second. Up ahead in the distance I saw April of the year 2006. I saw the face of the planet Earth and the continent of Asia and the country of Thailand and the city of Chiang Mai and the quiet temple Chediluang where the dragon then released me from its talons and I fell to the ground. The great beast returned to its spot on the white stupa and laid down contentedly. I rose to my feet. It was very hot outside that day, and I decided to return to the cool comfort of my room. I could always take pictures of temples another day. I took a taxi back to my apartment. It cost me twenty baht. After showering, I laid down in front of the cool breeze produced by my fan. I fell asleep then, and dreamed of dragons and of nothingness.
This is a blog
This blog is my blog. Out of all the blogs on the Internet, this blog is special because it belongs to me. I am a blogger, and this is the blog I blog upon. This blog is unlike all other blogs. Never before has there been a blog such as this. Not in the history of of the blogosphere. The genius which will soon grace the pages of this blog is without precedent. Other bloggers will flock to my blog in awe of my masterful blogging. This is the blog which will render blogging obsolete. Right now this is a new blog. It is my first blog. I understand blogs do not blog themselves. That is why I am prepared to blog on a daily basis, until this blog achieves the greatest of honors among blogs. My blog shall sit upon its rightful throne, and I shall sit atop my blog. Welcome to my blog.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)