PART211 Seeing Coach Ma again in a donkey resturant


Saturday, 28th, August, 2010. I
had a dream about being a flying robot last night. I was helping to evacuate a
village of farmers from rampaging death bots. When the Mother ship took off
without me. I skimmed the cubic landscape pursued my fast running zombies as I
witnessed a massacre. My batteries where going flat and my once crushing light
ray was merely bouncing off the transformers who were trying to reach me on my
perch.

 

I woke up with Bojang licking my hand. I
called Coach Ma in the afternoon and we went out for a meal to a donkey restaurant.
Sitting in the small room. Peeling wall paper, water falling on my head from
the stain in the ceiling above I felt extremely happy to see my wrestling coach
again. A slight hunch in his upper back from years of work, hands like slabs of
swollen meat, deformed ears from a life time of shooting at peoples legs to
take them down to the mat and large muscular arms. He smiled squinting his eyes
and showing the array of gold silver and black pieces of metal in his mouth,
like a rickety scaffold holding his mouth together. We swished back a few
glasses of wine and chatted. He told us about when he went to France for a competition
and had tried to ask how much it was for a bottle of wine in a super market.
Unable to speak any English he put a coin in the cashiers hand as to gauge if
he needed to give more money. The cashier thought that Coach Ma didn’t have
enough money and the cashier paid out of his own pocket. Another time in Italy
he said how many people had cheated him, how Italians don’t look honest. I
found this interesting because I have always thought that people with darker completions
are considered with more fear and suspicion than those of fairer skin color. I
myself when first arriving in Haikou found the deeply tanned men scowling at me
by the side of the road much more intimidating than say a whiter people who
scouled at me in the north of China. I wonder why? Deep down I must be racist
to some degree even if my reasoning brain isn’t.

 

After the meal Sarah and I went to practice
Taiji in the park. I am learning the long new form from a video of my Taij
master. It’s going well and I think I will finish it soon. I hope he appreciates
it when I show my progress to him next time I see him. The reason I am doing
this is because he once told me he secretly watched his own Master practicing
this form and he copied it. So I am doing the same thing. After the practice I
went for a wee in the public loos and my urine smelt like pretzels, rather pleasant
and very peculiar as I haven’t been with in eating distance of a pretzel for a
ruddy long time, maybe a year or so.

 

Bojang has flees and although we have only
found two, Sarah is pretty horrified about the whole affair. Looking
imploringly into my eyes ignoring my logic that tomorrow we get some shampoo
and clean the bed sheets. I think she wants a miracle or just a long hug. Now
to bed to sleep perchance to have my light beam recharged and the Mother ship
returning to rescue the farmers and take us all back to planet Zagron. From one
world to the next.

 

If we could take the paint off the canvas,
the canvas out of the frame. Burn the wood and sweep the ashes into a pan and
out the door into the vacuum of space. There would be little or nothing left.

 

Like life, take yourself away, throw the
earth into the sun, crush existence, time and space and put the ash into a dark
corner of nothingness then what are we left with?

 

Seriously what is left?

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