General

Love. Love. Love.
The Bakery Girl and big soft man-child BEING.
Morning The Bakery; sweet muffins, coffee.
Said she “Wouldn’t mind, you know, were he to ask…”
BEING left his bong, showered, combed. Destination bakery.
“Wanna go eat and maybe a movie?” asked BEING.
She said, “Sure.”
Soon in the apartment regularly BEING and The Bakery Girl, companions.
Not stun-drop beautiful, not Magazine. Hip-Heavy, soft, like BEING.  Harem girl allure.  Love in BEING’s room. The Bakery Girl partial to men and women. BEING her first man in a year.

Having arrived the first time in Mandalay to live and work in 2009, I rarely met westerners who lived there that weren’t teachers, and even then there were very few of them. The several non-teaching expats I met were pretty cool people working at mysterious trades and even one geologist who was trying to figure out a way to smuggle quality gems out of Burma into Thailand. Something that’s actually not hard to do. But generally everyone had a decent idea about their motives, even if some were secretive, for being in Mandalay.

So, in Washington, the defeat of I-522, the genetically modified organisms, i.e. food, labeling initiative has been aided and abetted  by, well, they call it a “war in the media” with the armies of the corporations launching frontal, rear, aerial, underground, cyber and Madison Avenue assaults. So, the “media” are the balancers and arbiters of justice.

Awakened midnight nobody home. Alone against the music of the Angry Young. Kid outside screamed poems into a mike. Squat amp dragged behind him on a wagon. Surrounding friends clapped stomped cacophony. Launched his dithyrambs against The City.
Cannonades of sing-song bass.
Josh razed Jericho with song.
“Turn off the noise and tune in The Voice of The Nation.”
That ad from somewhere I remember. Subway maybe.
I turned on the stereo. Fight noise with noise. Lonely like I’ve never. Unbearable rip. Inside. Alone me in the midnight.

[Note: More New Statesman non-news in a time of global Big Brother, Climate Calamity, $5.5 Trillion Held by 1,400 People, War is Peace, Lies are Truth, in a piece, titled: "A Discourse on Brocialism ... On Brand, iconoclasm, and a woman's place in the revolution: a dialogue with Richard Seymour on the question of how to reconcile the fact that people need stirring up with the fact that the people doing the stirring so often fall down when