Takers

I've always made things very easy for takers. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I believe that they will eventually learn something and begin to give in return. Yet, I must admit that that's probably not likely. Having taken without shame, they will likely only take more. So why? I always remember the words of the Lord. "If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles." The road is both short and long. Some are focused on their own feet, some on the unseen, though truly authentic goal. This is the foolishness of God, wherein being emptied is the same as being filled.

What's on Your Mind?

Three chairs and a table that I've always intended to paint. The tree that is sprouting new leafs and shedding old ones, not more than a stick when we first placed it there beneath the blue clothesline. Autumn in Oregon, the skeletons of summer, the last of the red leaves gasping in the gutters while the palm of dead winter turns the window glass to ice. Another cigarette, the possibility of sleep, obstinate poverty, the question of love, unsaid words too late imagined, of untold, untellable, uncomfortable depth. Fear and surrender, perpetual passion mitigated by small spaces. The last things, the final things. The laughter of a fountain that I cannot see and the mouse that just ran under the kitchen counter. That's what's on my mind. And so, goodnight.

Night on the Town

"It was late and every one had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light."
--Ernest Hemingway, A Clean Well Lighted Place

I guess that pretty well describes my own night on the town last night. Except for the Swedish guy at Angels who reckoned he could speak English, and maybe could have, too, if he hadn't been too drunk to form real words in any language. He tried Indonesian, as well, with the mostly somewhere absent bartender, with an equal lack of success. I know that he said something about every place in the world being the same, except not, really, because of global warming and that it should have been snowing in Sweden a long time ago. He was 44 and thought that he might marry the bartender, whose name he could not remember. In any case, he was thinking it over. To be honest, I thought that the vacant Circle K at which I had first stopped offered better company

Coffee Critic

I think I'll become a coffee and cuisine critic, specializing in those establishments less often (or perhaps never) frequented by the general public. O-Bin coffee, located on Jalan Tukad Badung, seems just such a one. Very peaceful indeed. As with nearby D'Kiddo's, I had (and will likely always have) the place to myself. The black coffee comes at a reasonable price and, after entering, I was soon treated to a selection of knock-off Beatles tunes from the early years (which all Bules love). But the thing that really distinguishes this place is its menu of specialty juices for various diseases - breast cancer, kidney stones, high blood pressure and heart disease. Whether these juices cause or prevent these maladies, I am not 100 percent certain, though I'm assuming it's the latter. Sadly, however, there was nothing for toothache. Nor were there any patrons suffering from these diseases, on the occasion of my visit, anyway. Perhaps they were too sick to show up. Nonetheless, should I myself contract any of these illnesses, I will certainly return. Otherwise, the non-curative beverages at D'Kiddos are larger and a bit less expensive.

Pak Botak

Why is it that people here think baldness is so hilarious? I swear, whenever I go outside my house, I'm like as not to have someone shout "Pak Botak!" It's almost like being famous, like Brad Pitt or George Clooney. Usually I get this from a gang of boys, but sometimes from grown men as well. Just this morning, for instance, I was having a coffee at the nearby café, when two men on a motorbike passed by on the street and one of them shouted "Botak!" I'm surprised I was even that obvious from that distance, although I suppose maybe my head was gleaming like a beacon in the sunshine. Look at that! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's someone with a bald head! My lucky stars! Can't wait to get home and tell my kids!

But I have hair. I really do. Some, at least. And so I'm determined now to grow it. That'll show 'em. No more Pak Botak in this neighborhood. Yes, I'm prepared to give up the fame. I'm sure that Mister Hair will be not nearly as amusing as Mr. Bald.

Toothless

A beggar just showed up at my door wanting money to replace her missing teeth. Ironic, that. She showed me hers, I showed her mine. Show and tell. I explained that if I had any extra money, I'd replace my own teeth, right? And, as a matter of fact, hers didn't look all that bad. But she was not impressed. Figured this was just a rich bule thing, I guess. A lifestyle choice of the wealthy and eccentric.

Just Another Nutcase

I read a little blurb yesterday on Facebook about a guy who had written a book 'proving' that Jesus had married Mary Magdalene, fathered three children and moved to France. I commented that marriage and family must have been difficult for someone who had been crucified, and moved on to more worthwhile news. Well, this morning I find that I have received a book-length reply from some woman explaining the 'factual details' of this story, which is not new, really, but about 30 y...ears old (something, in itself, that she seems unaware of). The story itself is not shocking, but merely silly. What's shocking is the length to which these sorts of 'conspiracy theorists' will go to dodge sound reasoning, the historical record, the rules of logic in order to achieve this core of refutation which, sadly, resides deep within the souls of those who are, truly, merely at the mercy of a psychiatric complex.