Afghanistan

I wouldn’t ordinarily be writing about the situation in Afghanistan, but since I am familiar with one of their chief exports, hashish ..I have been following the war kind of closely. I think there’s a story here. Or some half-baked ideas. I can never tell. But I was wondering, since when is it the role of army generals to build stable communities when all they’ve been trained to do throughout history is knock them down. So now we’ve put them in charge of ‘social engineering’ ..a practice we abhor in the west ..and rightly so. It doesn’t lead to ‘participatory’ government. Instead, it contributes to feelings of helplessness by replacing traditional customs with circumstances that the local population had no hand in creating ..and over which they have no control.

There’s another mission that’s equally unclear to me “Our goal is to break Taliban momentum.” What the hell does that mean in a town where the Taliban have already seized the means of production, which in addition to producing hashish, means subsistence-level bakeries. You think the villagers want to participate in U.S efforts to ‘break Taliban momentum’ when their survival instincts fill them with a sense of foreboding.

Last week Obama sacked a commanding general for using the term ‘diplomatic incoherence’ to describe the difference between what is happening in Afghanistan ..and what the U.S government would have us believe is happening in Afghanistan. Call me a cynic, but I don’t believe that giving the military contradictory goals like ‘building stable communities’ and ‘breaking Taliban momentum’ is going to lead to anything like the ‘progress’ I’ve been hearing about from politicians. I’m hunkering down for a long-term disruption in the supply of hash from Afghanistan.

Grace

Grace left and I thought I was losing my mind.. I couldn’t sleep unless I passed-out on the balcony after several bottles of Chardonnay. Sitting in the house was torture, so I walked in circles around town. Some days I’d walk down 2nd street to the Bay ..where I’d visit Claudia, who was deaf ..but a good listener. Other days I’d head up to Broadway and Cherry, and sit in Benny’s costume jewelry shop just to listen to him talk. I even read his complete college dissertation on ‘Myrna Loy’. Then there was 4th street to Orizaba ..where I’d visit the funky art stores and antique mart. Behind them were like miles of alleyways with garages loaded with antiques. They’d take me walking out back, opening one door after another ..and we never reached the end. Then I’d duck into Phil Yeh’s hand-drawn comic book shop, where I’d sit and read for hours. He didn’t seem to mind and I found it comforting there ..I don’t know why. Sometimes I’d duck into the Art theater, have popcorn for dinner and watch a movie. Saw a string of French films I’ll never forget: ‘Betty Blue’ ‘Vagabond’ and ‘Return of Martin Guerre’. Often I’d head up Broadway to Orizaba ..where I’d visit Dr. Russell, who could immediately detect pain. He explained to me how pain sends messages to the brain telling it to flee possible injury, and energizes you for flight. He helped me understand that I was not losing my mind. So, I kept walking in giant circles around town all day .. for months.

false memory

I ask Randy how things went at the V.A. He describes his visit in full detail. When I follow up, they tell me he never arrived. I tell them there must be a mistake. They check again and tell me there’s no mistake. I’m like, wtf is going on here. I ask to see his counselor. The counselor tells me about a condition they frequently see called ‘false memory syndrome’ He goes “It’s where you remember things that you planned to do as though you actually did them.” But I go, this was way too elaborate .. I mean, he told me what he had for lunch .. the ride over .. what they talked about in the car, etc.. His counselor goes, “Yeah ..he’s afraid of missing something so he conjures them up. It’s a coping strategy and should go away pretty soon” I’m dumbfounded. He goes on to explain “You’ve heard of the belief where, if you think about something, it can be the same as doing it ..? The book of Matthew says anyone who even looks at a woman with lust in his eye has already committed adultery. Well, consider this an extension of that ..where thinking about something can lead to the mistaken belief that it must have happened.” I try to put it in words I can understand “Sounds something like virtual reality ..(?)” “You could say that” Now I’m driving home, going ..OK, did that just happen, or do I only think it happened ..? Now I’m wondering how many things I’ve accomplished that never got beyond the planning stage.

Dissolution II

Continued from  ~>[ link ]

 

David shows up at my kitchen table one day looking troubled. His Hawaiian liaison was getting kinda’ weird. He felt they were at a point where it was OK to kiss .. perhaps even neck. But she’d get uncomfortable, freeze-up, burst-out crying then lock herself in her room. I thought, oh man ..this is not what he needs right now. I didn’t know what to say except everyone’s different ..there are no rules ..and thought about my own misadventures. It continued this way for a while and he’d show up all dejected looking. Then he finished his degree, got a teaching gig in Huntington Beach and stopped coming by altogether.

After class one day, I suggested to a friend that we go have drinks at ‘Executive Suites’ ..remembering what David had told me about the place. He burst out laughing and told me that it’s a notorious lesbian bar. I was like ..OK, that explains things. But I had to wonder ..did David not realize that. Possibly, I forgot to mention that he was a bit naive. Things began to unravel after that. In the evenings, I began noticing something peculiar ..an older fellow with long hair, handle bar mustache and dirty work clothes sitting in his truck chugging beers ..tall cans of Colt 45 to be exact. When I’d arrive home from class at night, he’d be gone but his truck would be there. Didn’t bother me. This was largely student housing, which made him stand out ..that’s all. Then one evening, while he was sitting in his truck chugging beers, Diane pulls up in the driveway, gets out and goes inside. Next, I see truck guy get out and go up to her door ..still holding a tall one. I’m like, yikes ..and thought about dialing 911. However, when she opens the door ..she squeals, throws herself in his arms, wraps her legs around his waist and he carries her inside and shuts the door. My first thought was ‘poor David’. My second thought was .. that tells me something. It was never about the wine ..or David’s choice of jobs or anything. I had it all wrong. We had it all wrong ..I’m not sure David ever knew Executive Suites was a lesbian club ..or that Diane had a lover.

Dissolution I

While I was in college, I lived next door to a delightful couple, David and Diane. They were born-again Christians. David was working on his teaching credentials, while Diane worked as an administrative assistant to a VP. David was outgoing and gregarious, while Diane was shy and reserved. I got to know David better. I remember one day, sitting at my kitchen table, listening to him tell me about a recent turn of events in their marriage. Diane had begun criticizing him for the glass of wine he has with dinner. He defended himself by quoting from the bible, claiming “Jesus drank wine”. On another occasion, he was moaning that, in restitution for that ‘sin’ ..Diane was now refusing to participate in another ‘sin’ ..sex. Now that was a major wrinkle. I had no answer except to agree that she may be overreacting. I asked if there was something else going on. The plot thickens. She was also complaining about being the sole source of income and telling David that he should get his real estate license ..or sell insurance ..or something. My concern was that a full-time job might delay the credentials he needed for the job he really wanted. But David was resourceful. He was a talented musician and began getting nighttime gigs singing and playing guitar at local clubs. I soon learned that this was another source of grievance for Diane ..she felt he was heading directly to Sodom and Gomorrah. Then one day he dropped the bomb. They were separating. I was saddened. He was devastated. I tried to console. He had a lot going for him. I mean, he was handsome (he looked like a young Treat Williams) ..and talented and so close to finishing his education. David moved out but continued to appear at my kitchen table (when he knew his wife was at work). He told me about one of the clubs he played at called ‘Executive Suites’ on PCH, where the girls outnumber guys like 10 to 1. He tells me I outta’ go there sometime ..I couldn’t miss. He says between acts he sits at a table with a group of babes all to himself. I laughed because I could see that this was a definite boost to his ego. One day he came by to tell me he had hooked-up with of his ‘groupies’ ..a tall Hawaiian beauty ..and that this was all right because his marriage was still on-hold. Now, whenever I saw him .. he was floating on air. I was happy for him.

to be continued ~> [ link ]..

Ryan and Audrey part 2

Continued from  ~>[ part 1 ]
 

Next time I saw Audrey, I casually asked how things were working out with her and her ‘tenant’. She smiles sheepishly and says “uncomfortable!” Being nosy, I ask “How so ..?” She invites me in for a chat. “He never leaves ..” she says. “From his room, you mean ..?” “No, he’s waiting for me when I get home from work.” The plot thickens. “You mean you don’t get any privacy ..?” “Worse, he has dinner on the table, flowers, candles, Beatles’ music ..” This sounded sweeter than I thought. “What, you don’t like the Beatles ..?” She gives me that ‘you know what I mean’ look and says “I’m talking school-boy crush here.” “Sounds flattering” I say, trying for some reason to help Ryan’s cause. “Not when it’s coming from a teenager” she replies. “He’s not a teenager anymore, is he ..?” “It feels like it to me ..I feel like his mother.” “I understand.” She goes on to say “I don’t need that ..and I’m sure-as-shit he doesn’t either.” Ryan moved out shortly afterward and later transferred to Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo to pursue studies in architectural drafting. A stellar choice I believe. He’d been struggling trying to choose a field. Audrey got it right. I wonder if he would have made the same move had they been living together ..one way or the other.

Ryan and Audrey part 1

Audrey lives nearby. She’s a high-power attorney, and looks it. Armani suits ..stiletto-heel pumps ..dark stockings with a line up the back. She’s very professional and accomplished. Ryan also lives nearby. He’s an awkward first year student at the university. He rents a house with three other roommates. Although he is quiet and shy by nature ..he is over 6 feet tall and looks a lot like the actor Adrien Brody. When his roommates graduated and moved on ..Ryan didn’t want the hassle of finding new roommates. He asked Audrey if he could rent a room. She agreed. The next time I saw Ryan, I asked him how things were going. He said things were going well, but he was having ‘woman problems’. That surprised me. I couldn’t imagine a woman shortage at the university .. not for him anyway. He tells me he’s not interested in college girls “..all in ripped jeans, sandals and everything.” I wondered what difference that made ..I mean, he dresses like that ..so does everyone else in college. He says he prefers more professional-looking women. I go “..are you talking like, dark suits and pumps ..?” “Exactly ..!” I’m like, uh oh ..

Continued ~> [ part 2 ]

Morning

I wake up in a trance ..take two hits of ginseng and chase them with dark coffee. I put on something compelling and turn it up loud. I borrow the will of the music to propel me. Today it’s Emilie Autumn, who is a recently discovery, but it’s whatever stimulates. Has to be something clever and edgy though. By the time I’m fully awake, I’m sitting outside on the deck, partway through a bowl of yogurt and granola, partway into a newspaper article. Today it’s about Abby Sunderland. There’s also a stack of papers and stuff I printed from the web. I’m an information junkie. I like reading material that is not written in conventional narrative ..but comes closer to expressing the unsteady course of everyday events. I suppose that’s why I prefer travel logs and stories about people beating the odds.

“We shall not cease from exploration
and the end of our exploring will be
to arrive where we started
and know the place for the fist time”
~ T.S. Eliot

Lady of Shallot

Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.

~ Lord Tennyson

Emilie Autumn

This performance fascinates me ..

Aftermath

“What happened ..?”
“You were hit by an IED, dude.”
“No, that was somebody else ..”
“You’re good man, you still got your feet.”
“Where are you ..?”
“Checking your pupils.”
“Where am I ..?”
“On a berm.”
“How did I get here ..?”
“You were blown here ..you’re lucky.”
“Where is here ..I don’t remember ..I can’t see.”
“Don’t worry, it’s temporary ..you’ll see fine in just a moment.”

Back in the States, Johnny has lapses in consciousness where he tells me he leaves his body .. travels back to Iraq and becomes someone else ..just before they get hit by an IED. Each time, he says ..the same conversation takes place. I ask the VA about this and they tell me it’s a documented condition called ‘disassociative fugue’. I tell them it sounds frighteningly supernatural to me. They say it will go away soon.