Pleasantries

A man sat next me on MRT on the way “home” tonight and asked me, “Where are you going?” I replied and he said, “The same for me.” You could say it could have beeen the icebreaker to conversation, or just exchanging pleasantries. It was nothing more than this. I looked at what my mind wanted to say more to establish my ‘me,’ needing to gain sympathy in order to prove my humanness. There is nothing I can say that would change his life or mine, so I relaxed and chuckled. He looked around to see what gathered my attention. I said nothing, and his phone rang and he excused himself because of human connection now. I smiled, and he would look to me occasionally to see what or who I am. But I am just on the same subway, the same path, with the same outcome as his, and we really don’t need to speak about it. We arrived near our stop and he got up and with an ever-so-light gesture moved his body to say we are here. I stood up casually and smiled and let out a sigh. I know.

Ring My Bell

Doorbell, rings…half expecting a friend to drop by, I answer even though in the middle of doing two things. Uggh, it is two people trying to sell me something. I immediately say to myself, don’t look pissed and let them do their job, using every bit of my patience, with the man talking a mile a minute. He says in the beginning of all this, saying he is not trying to sell me anything, doesn’t want any money… just to earn points. But he has nothing in his hand, and I smell a scam. The woman with him is just smiling nervously, saying occasionally, “that’s right!” He is a young and handsome, and she is a little worn on the edges. If I had to guess she was a former drug user, but life has not been too good to her. While he was still talking, I watch her, looking back to him hinting I need to know what you really want. He stops and says, “We are from the projects and just trying to get up in the world and by earning points we can… with your help!” I still don’t quite understand how I am supposed to give him points, and voilà, he reaches in his back pocket to whip out his tattered program. Pointing to my supposed neighbors on his sheets that gave him points, he tells me that by signing up for magazines, I earn him points. I say I really don’t need any more magazines, especially at inflated rates, scanning his list noting they are ones I don’t read. I scan his program pages, looking at the hokey company page. Nothing looks real to me. The whole thing is so round a bout that is totally confusing. Maybe his boss (if he has one) designed it this way if it is real. People will give anything just for them to get out of your face.

So, I say how else can you get points? I really want this to end soon. He tells me you can buy points, and points to a check a neighbor supposedly written in his receipt book, which he kept in his other back pocket. I look at him, and say I really can’t. “We are trying to get out of the projects, and looking for a hand up. You got this house by help,”looking around, he says. I say, “Wait a minute, are you assuming that I am rich and did not work hard for my house? This house did not fall out of the sky for me, and yes, I came from nearly nothing and had a tough life, too. That tactic won’t get you any further, I say to myself. “Well, there is not much I can do for you, I am just not interested and yes, money is tight like you said.” (referring back to the myriad of points he made in his spiel) He got the idea, and then asked me if I have any food for them. I said, “of course,” giving them my last two Clif bars. I wished them well and off they went. e saiHH

Two Worlds Meet

Today, I had coffee outside a coffee house, and a middle-aged man asked if he share my table. I said, “Of course.” So, I said chirped in, “So, how are you?” instead of being quiet and withdrawn as most people do when a stranger sits down. It started us on a conversation of sorts, I finding out he is Arab, and I American. I usually like to base a conversation on how Buddha’s ideas and particularly meditation has helped me. I make the statement that all religions had meditation in some form, and just meditating with or without being Buddhist is fine. We both agreed that Jesus, Buddha, Mohammad were all wise men who came up with similar teachings, and he said, “we as people, no matter where we are from, are more alike than not.” I learned his mother is in a coma for 8 years, and been taken to many hospitals around the world. Saying, “She is my mother, and you can not give up on your mother!” I thought this was a nice indication of where his heart is, and it did not take away from his masculinity. As we spoke further and he asked if I was ever married, and for his sake did not discuss being gay, said, “No.” He did not raise an eyebrow, and we continued taking and of course he knew I was gay. He was curious about me being a monk, and assumed it was peaceful and easy. I said the work is always in your mind and how you perceive the world and our suffering. Suffering in terms of the simple fact that sitting is painful, so you stand up and that becomes tiresome and you sit down again. If we can expand this to our tired old bodies that will get older and more painful than we have acquired some wisdom. I don’t preach my ideas, but offer them as a common bond we all share. He noted, while taking his mother to a US hospital, he saw poor homeless there and was shocked. We agreed that all the people with money should help the poor in some way, because we don’t know next where we will be. I offered that Buddha taught that we may be reincarnated as a lower form or animal, so it is best for our karma to help others. He was not buying the karma idea, but was gentlemanly still agreeing on helping others talking about South Africa where he worked at one time. The poor there live on less than 1 dollar and they will kill you if out late at night in Durban. It was overall a pleasant exchange and when he left, he said, “Nice to meet you, dear.” It was not said in a condescending way, just a subtle acknowledgement.

Sleeping Cart

Is it true where you live? Not where I am from… strangers often talk, even in casual conver-sation. It is more rare here, but when I go out shooting at night people often are very curious and want to see the results. I have in all my visits begun to notice the destruction of old Bangkok historical buildings. The Thais embrace new things and value them more than old. This translates to 10 –15 year old condos just falling apart, with no viable maintenance done ever including paint. It would be a scary investment in them knowing that would fall apart fast, with no board to watch or care. So I like the old style buildings, whether Thai or colonial style. So I was out shooting them at night when the mystery is highlighted, the cool air refreshing and the cart vendors sleeping.

Walking Suspicion

I found this walking stick in all places in a busy city, crawling across the sidewalk to a nearby planter area alongside a house. So I picked it up carefully and moved it to safety, and in the process let everything I had in my mind go. I even talked to two people walking by, noticing that they were not afraid, but instead, in awe, because I had it in my hand. This immediately made them feel comfortable talking to me. All it took was one insect to make three strangers talk. We lose the common shared thing we possess as humans, if we are always suspicious. I think this how the current administration is working our last nerve. If they keep us apart and fearful of everything then we will agree to the absurd policies of spending our way into destruction. The US has spent 2.4 trillion on the Iraq and Afghan wars and we can’t help poor children in this country. We can spend a billion on Blackwater, a para-military force that rivals Pinochet’s Henchmen in Chile. They also just walked into New Orlean’s without a contract and their steroid pumped idiots bossed our people around until Bush jumped in with money for them. Money for para-military, but not to rebuild New Orleans or to help our children? I think we should be suspicious of them not each other.