a few rules

There are a few rules that I follow when sick before I break down and take antibiotics. So long as I'm capable of breathing well, I'm able to move up and down a stairwell, I'm not losing blood at a furious rate or have diarrhea that will not abate, I have an appetite and can keep down food, then I will just sit there and suffer and brood but not dare resort to such powerful drugs that bomb nuke and destroy both bad and good bugs. We humans must wait and let our bodies tick and not simply reach for those antibiotics to make ourselves feel better so we can then smoke cigarettes, drink beers, and ab-fab with friends.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

drink while swatting

While walking to pick up my moped last night I came across a no-so-puzzling sight – my previous landlord and current good friend with a whiskey bottle in his soft brown hand. He raised the flask upward, let contents rain down (he drank so much booze that I thought he would drown), then saw me and called me to join him and drink while swatting the butt of a woman in pink. I shambled on over and took off my thongs and mingled well into the Balinese throng of men and one woman who lay or just sat; some of them were skinny, the others were fat. We sat then and drank there for almost an hour discussing the chance of a nightly rain-shower then heard from his wife who said my bike was fixed at which point we removed ourself from the mix. I hopped on the back of the nearest dirt bike and we hit the road with the speed of a shrike and made without incident his fine compound where his wife and in-laws soon gathered around. They looked at my moped and laughed when I showed the method to cover my pipe that I chose which involved six brackets, one length of bamboo, that stopped it from burning legs surfboards and shoes. Then off into darkness I sped without pause with sauce in my veins and a smile in my jaws and slept really poorly (because of the moon?) – believe me I will not booze again too soon.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

learning to ignore

This whorphan is aging but not getting old is learning to ignore most that he is told. There's an epidemic in society the outlines of which aren't easy to see which manifests itself when talk turns toward such things that can never be wiped from the board. To use the phrase 'should have' is to presuppose that someone can go back and change what arose ten minutes ten years or ten decades ago when each of us but toward the future can go. To say to another what should have transpired is a foolish habit both worn-out and tired for hindsight is perfect and often misused as passive-aggressive temporal abuse. Small minds discuss people, average ones events, the brightest among us though do seem hellbent on maintaining ideas and ideas alone deep in their gray tissues and fast in their bones. Please avoid the habit that's mentioned above and instead use mercy compassion and love to guide others gently onto the One Path that thwarts conquers celebrates Fate's patient wrath.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

our Lombok excursion

The peaks they were shifting from forward to back and horizons cluttered with churning whitecaps. Alone in the water, just me and my mate, we arrived right on time, not early or late. The surfboards were waxed and the camera was primed, our Lombok excursion seemed perfectly timed to capture the rising and powerful swells that this wee green island delivers so well. While riding on scooters that would not go fast there were many farmsteads and herds that we passed, dirt compounds and groups of water buffalo that moved with gaits plodding and measured and slow. Ekas and Gerupuk were our favorite bays, we surfed and we played in their waters ways, we drove motored explored them from east to west in search of such waves as would propel us best. Fried rice did sustain us and keep us alive, did fuel our unending and incessant drive to keep right on paddling, injured or whole, with joy in our hearts and hope deep in our souls. There were many rainstorms and thunderous peals that woke us from slumber and made children squeal but they didn't stop us from mounting our steeds or quieting our daily water-time needs. Goodbye then, fair Lombok, we shall meet again, farewell to the women and children and men whom we met and played with on your verdant hills – thanks for the love friendship food surf and goodwill.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

toned shapely slabs

There lies at the middle crux center and core a bright brimming majestic powerful store where most intuition and much knowledge lies in that sweet region twixt navel and thighs. Behind all the nether and lower-most abs, those chiseled tight granite-like toned shapely slabs, is a spot of strength knowing and density that controls and speaks to the lower body. To access it is to be one with the self for it is the fountain of youth truth and health; where once mine too hid behind layers of blubber I am now removing its shielding and cover. When delving deep into this curious place remember to relax the jaw and the face and sit with the feet crossed or up in lotus then breathe well and clear the mind of all its fuss. The power gained from such a meditation will outshine the photons hurled off by the sun, allowing the person to go venture soar without ever opening his house's door. Now put down those donuts, set coffee aside, and let your brave spirit some vortexes ride, and watch as greed avarice pettiness hate do suddenly vanish diminish abate.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

dream vision thought

Oh darkest of night and oh brightest of day we ask that you prolong your too-fleeting stay. You come and visit us in dream vision thought; without your due influence we would be naught. The light of your passion does touch on our souls, we use it to plug up necessity's holes, to fill in the gaps that our minds cannot fill, to invent the future and cure lasting ill. Now people on far distant parts of the globe do wrack activate puzzle with frontal lobes in search of solutions to what might well be the means by which our race can reach apogee. Without ever talking to one another these people do stumble upon and discover the wealth of 'formation that fleet flits about to which they are known a Eureka! to shout. Some mighty good scientists did once propose that what our poor species should think that it knows comes down from the aether to infect the pan of truth-seeking woman of curious man. Just look at calculus and the pyramids – were not these developed in separate bids by people kept distant by vast furlonged leagues when now-shining cities lay covered in weeds? The secrets of airborne, mechanical flight that we think as merely a new modern right was thought of in Egypt and in the Near East when we in Europa were seen as just beasts. Keep therefore the brain-stem devoid of cruel pride and the blessed third eye consciously wide and think not of glory or long-lasting fame but feel for the burning of that holy flame that comes to the seeker who does then lets go whose guts are the kind that let her say :Don't know.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

them to fly

Without ever leaving the confines of this my house in the alley I have found some bliss and have found in writing my tranquility yet still my relatives can't see what I see. I have but few answers, the ones that I do would rarely be seen as quick clever or new, they're all mostly poached from the texts old and wise – just wrapped up in modern and crumbling disguise. I've no one to prove to that my path is good that I am now doing exact as I should, that I am now living here in this far land without vast resources and with fewer plans. I'll let them keep puzzling about my game and keep on repeating the eternal name that sounds without hurry from window and sky that gives my dreams wings and allows them to fly.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥