A dead man comes to me, asking, "What is it like to be alive?"
I reply, "Don't you remember?"
And no, of course no--for the only way to access the experience of alivedness is to live, the dead have no memory, and we cannot transmit this experience, particularly one of a human disposition, to a corpse or a martian no matter how effective our exhibits and advertisements. The ever-quarreling dogs below my balcony will attest to this.
Undulations:
Riding high from my travels last weekend, I went back to work with a clear head and open heart, ready to teach (learning implied in teaching). But I have this one class. A group of 2nd graders. And they are...well, 2nd graders. They don't want to learn how to offer each other markers in English. They want to shoot play guns at each other and yell and get up and walk around, and no matter how many anti-gun signs I draw on the board (I am adamant about this!) or how many times I raise my voice or take away points or use a physical response drill to calm them--nothing seems to work. And this is draining--when you give 100% throughout the day only to be met with a wall. The wound is already open, and dejection a bacteria so easy to infect. So easy to blame the children. Or blame myself! "Those little brats. No--I am just a bad teacher. No--I just have no desire to teach CHILDREN because I don't want to be a disciplinarian...especially in a language they can't understand yet..."
Planning my escape route. Through Vietnam? Maybe straight to India? Istanbul? Eventually I'll land back at my home in Boston, or the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia...
And then--! The undulation. Maybe it was a good lesson plan. Maybe just well-executed. Maybe the kids had been drugged. Maybe it was my use of the guitar? Or I began to earn their respect. Or it was completely random and meaningless. BUT. It clicked. It clicked! For 1 class--I fuckin' HAD them! Let me tell you--I walked out of there glowing, preparing schemes for indefinite elongation of my visa...and this carried me through the day, until about 6 o clock when I still had 30 minutes left of my last class and their usual respectful mature selves had been possessed by satanic unruly rudeness and I threw my hands up and handed them all books and told them to sit there silently reading until the end of class and NOT A PEEP or I'm crackin' skulls, well, something to that effect--and I don't want reading to be punishment! Fuck, when I was a kid I LOVED to read. Still do in fact (my current smorgasborg: a collection of Rumi poems, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching by Thich Nhat Hanh, and yep, the Bible)--but I couldn't handle these kids--and mainly, because I was hungry. Like, food hungry. Simple shit.
Undulations.
Postulations:
This is what I would say to the dead man if he could understand it:
--outside stimuli (e.g. society) + the mind are constantly trying to make you less grateful, less present, less aware, and less whole. We go through life undulating between suffering and joy. The point: to feel the waves and recognize their meaninglessness. How? Ego-relinquishment, divine nourishment.
Inflammations:
The Thai military assumed Martial Law 3 days ago after a few weeks of an impromptu government established due to the sudden removal of the Prime Minister. Last night the army announced an official coup and imposed a 10pm-5am curfew. I fell asleep excited to be part of this, not worried for my safety in the slightest, hoping that this conflict can be resolved peacefully, and dreading the thought of facing my innocent 2nd graders this morning.
Celebrations:
I awoke and began to amble downstairs for the toilet like I do every morning and was greeted by a scrawled note from my roommate--"no school, check your email." I just about pissed myself. Subsequently, it has been a day of celebrations.
I spent the morning literally doing fuck-all: had TWO bowls of muesli, made a peanut butter banana jelly coconut yogurt shake, and watched 3 hours of Dexter--IN BED. Around noon I ambled down to the bank to try and get a cash advance on my credit card because I don't have my PIN, but they couldn't do it there, and recommended I head down the street to SBC Bank. On the way a fellow traveler guided me to a natural foods store where I spent a fortune on some deliciously select items (granola bars and real coffee!!), and Bangkok Bank happened to be right next door so I popped in there instead of SBC. It was kind of a silly situation:
As I was bumbling about in the corner trying to stir the instant coffee provided by the bank in one hand and holding my credit card and passport in the other, a bespectacled bank mistress asked me how much cash I wanted. She was a bit shocked to hear 20,000 Baht but goddamnit ain't no one here takes a credit card so I gotta stock up on cash when I can. We went through the usual rigmarole of showing ID (passport, VA license), comparing names (but this one doesn't say Nathaniel and this one does!), striking poses, spelling out L E N D E R K I N G - B R I L L ...and once again, it all came down to the fact that my card says ASK FOR ID on the back instead of my signature (that and even my passport signature is a bit dodgy, seeing I signed it when I was 16...). Dumbest thing ever. And even though the "writing-ASK-FOR-ID" trick works at the department store, it don't work at Bangkok Bank during a military coup when this silly white boy is trying to withdraw 20,000 Baht on a foreign credit card--even if his picture is on the front and ain't no one forging a name like Lenderking-Brill.
Ah, but it pays to be a teacher in this town! I dropped that little nugget, she locked herself in an office to call my school (even though it is closed I guess she got someone), and as I fumbled a bit more with the coffee, she beckoned me back and told me to sit down, ready to hand me cash as long as I could furnish my PIN.
Ah.
I figured the situation was like in Brazil--when the first bank told me to go to SBC, I just assumed they were full of shit for some reason and didn't take them seriously. Happened to me a million times. But I decided to try it out anyway, I resolved it was the 3rd and final bank I would inspect, and just a few blocks down...AND there happened to be a blossoming fruit market on the way so I furnished myself with a sack of lychees...
I am laughing right now. Fuckin' SBC bank man. Walked in, got called up--on my cell phone at the time, mind you!--was asked what I needed, said between sentences of my phone conversation (which was to my school manager who speaks English fluently 'cause I thought I'd need her help translating at this bank), "uh, cash advance, 20,000" while still bumbling about with my passport, card, and now cell phone (I left the empty coffee mug on lady 1's backroom desk)--the teller did a little shuffling and scuttling in the bank, opened my passport to the signature page and turned over my card, staring at 2 completely different-looking lines of characters, and I'm thinking "well fuck here it comes again" and she asks me to sign...shit--which one?? I took a gamble and wrote "ASK FOR ID"--she does a bit more shuffling and scuttling--haha fuck I am still laughing right now--reaches into a drawer, and after having me sign "ASK FOR ID" on about 5 other documents--passport real signature still blatantly apparent--she hands me 20,000 Baht in cash! I even got her to change it for small bills.
Celebrations.
I know who I'm banking with from now on. SBC baby! Despite their clear lack of security, I got handed 20,000 Baht today by a young Thai girl with braces wearing pink lipstick. And you know, the great thing is, I wasn't defrauding anyone. This is my money. I did what I needed to do. It just goes to show you--money really doesn't need to be taken seriously.
And then off to the gym in a torrential downpour to pump some iron with a smile on my face. And I still have 4 hours and 11 minutes until national curfew! During my travels today I noticed the soldiers beginning to congregate...what more havoc can I wreak before the sun sets?
It is only because all is nothing that all is bliss. Good night.
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