Where I hang my hat

After 38 hours of travel we're, well, "home" or back in Bangkok. They tell me missing December here means missing the best weather of the year but, IMO, the weather is still nice, that is ... overcast and "cool" . . . 28° C or 82.4 F. That's "winter" temps in Thailand. I'm not being facetious. Bangkok malls are all carrying winter clothes ... poly jackets, heavy coats, sweaters, hats, gloves and just yesterday a friend, a westerner, even complained it was cold. Having just left Oregon where winter cold froze the dog poop in my daughter's backyard, allowing for a speeding, aroma-free removal and a giant snow storm left my mother-in-law and her cat, Alley, stranded at home surviving on dwindling rations, 28° C is not cold. Oh well. Reality is relative.

Ok. Gotta go. Meeting a friend in an hour.

Day One, 2017

Happy New Year.

Is this idea of a "new" year merely a stupid fantasy? Oh well. Who cares? As Heraclitus said, change is the only constant. In that light, painful though it may be, here's hoping changes in this new year led to new, better beginnings.

Also, in keeping with the season, I published a new poem on AnnaSadhorse, Horary for the Third Millennium CE.

Winter Solstice I Ching - 2016

First hexagram:

K'an - #29 - Danger

Changing line #5

The dark waters of this pit will rise no higher.
Your greatest danger now lies in panic.
Keep your wits and you will escape.


Changing to:

Shih - #7 -  The Army

Good fortune.
No mistakes if you follow a course led by experience.

It's Sober Santa time again

The Christmas season is upon us and one of the my few loyal readers made a special request . . . that, for old time's sake, I re-post Sober Santa. So, without further ado, I give you Sober Santa.

Ho-ho-ho!
Merry Christmas!
Let the games begin!

Click here to play

Other places . . .

On the move again.

Bangkok mailbox

At the moment we're back in Taiwan, the rainy island

Taipei Cultural Center

which is either a sovereign country or renegade province

Rainy day in Taipei

depending on who you talk to.

Sovereign movement

Tomorrow we fly back to the U.S.

Photo tags poem

for Christmas with family and friends.

Snowman in Taipei

I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone . . .
the kids, still overwhelmingly sweet, raucous and innocent
and the adults, cherished friends. Ain't life grand?!

Open when not closed . . .
- Taipei shop -

I can't wait to commiserate with them about the goddam fuck show of a
U.S. Presidential election. Trump? What irony! America's self-appointed
new-age elitists, good ol' boy women and the USSR jointly elected an
impulsive, revenge driven, gold-plated vaudeville scammer.
America has fallen through the trapdoor. 

Life in the gap
- Taipei -

Then, after the first of the year, it's back out into the dirty old world again.

Biker dude dog

While his human was off shopping, this little fellow seemed to be enjoying a fabulous adventure on the motorbike.

When he realized I was standing there he turned and said, in no uncertain barks, "Get outta here". I immediately regretted ogling him. He was deep in his game and, quite understandably, did not appreciate by-standers photographing him.

Don't worry. It all worked out OK. I quickly moved out of sight, though I did take one last photo before going on my way. As for the dog, the second I disappeared from view, he roared off again on the open road.

Supermoon over Bangkok

Hello moon . . .

. . . old friend.

Fiends on high

So Donald Trump picked Steve Bannon as his Chief Strategist. No surprise but wow, just wow. Bannon is a depraved, scorch-the-earth fiend. The air is bad here in Bangkok today, a "very unhealthy - the entire population is more likely to be affected" purple on the air quality index, but the toxic stink polluting the world is coming from America.

Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; on the French coast the light

Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

Listen! you hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago

Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought

Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

Of human misery; we

Find also in the sound a thought,

Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

But now I only hear

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

Retreating, to the breath

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear

And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! for the world, which seems

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night.

-- Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold

This via Sled Press at Sixteen Tons -- Thank you. It helps tonight.