tale of two tails

《the big old dog and the little yapper dog》

As chance would have it and lore would remember it, there once were two mates: the little yapper dog and the big old dog.

The big old dog laid steadily on the still ground, while the little yapper dog would yap and run in little circles about the big old dog.

The big old dog would get up, and mozy to and fro', moving freely as big old dogs do.

And the little yapper dog would follow close behind and all around, yapping as little yapper dogs are apt to do.

It was for each step the big old dog would take, that the little yapper dog took 4.

And though the little yapper dog had energy for more, those equal steps of 4 too soon trod once too many times about that big old dog, though what for...?

So after time itself drew weary, the little yapper dog took heed and halted the yapping and paused the treading, too.

For where a big old dog minds what only a big old dog might will to mind, any dog will know that there is fourfold more than a passive big old bore who cares for nobody more.

And the little yapper dog went silently and simply on away, for the little yapper dog was, in fact, no more a yapper than the big old dog was old.

At long last, the little dog was no more, and no less, than the dog that it was, which was a dog that is.

The End

Though there are things great and grand and worthy of tempting even the strongest, there are times of purpose that we must swim on and away.

即使大虫并不诱惑
(Even the big worm does not tempt)

by 云清, aka Jessica Bibbee

evolution of grain

c.2005

Once upon a time,
in a land not far from here,
existed grasses swaying freely
with grains atop each blade,
fraying sweetly fro' and to.

Onwards from the blade
by wind and then by way,
likewise on to air
the grain journeyed past
and well beyond its means.

No arms or legs or torso
no brain, no thought, no more
than simple cells sexing so
from the center of its halves,
a sprouting sprig in waiting.

From a speck of dirt
to mature and greening grass,
sprouted each and every blade -
when the season came to rest,
from the blade atop came forth,
a grain of which to watch
fall silently to earth.

From dust begin unto dust end,
to begin once again -
for from the earth shall sprout
a grain to which no end
can hold within or store.

Then there was the day -
neither stone nor book to tell,
a grain did find its way
from grasp of mite,
with slow but sure a march
to the beak of bird -
the end of travel as it knew,
the wind was bid farewell.

But 'fore the grain bore forth
'twas carried on once more
in due time by able, thrashing hands -
and so its day grew shorter still
when met with mortar firm,
the pestle found its fate.

For the first time ever,
the whole of grain was lost -
forever now to smithereens;
from once a simple dust
and now to dust of flour,
what next in line
awaits this dust of grain.

Then came the rains,
from powder into paste
was made the grain with haste
and onwards, paste to palette
was moved with force
on the path of digestion
and so forth to earth.

With gradual step in time
from dust to grain to paste -
and then found man, the flame -
kindled with the flour, toasted
formed to pasta, boiled
kneaded on to loaves, baked
and onwards to no end.

For from the dusts of earth
to fields of amber grain,
from dust to grain to dirt
and grain to paste to plate -
was this fate hence a plan,
or was it child of time
and equal partner chance?

utility in humility

in deed, in a word

There are days when the world rolls and you feel yourself at a crawl. Time stands still, and you can only watch it all unfold in slow motion.

Apparently, after all of my travels, I am still learning a thing or two about tourist visas. While it is my 5th entry into mainland China [over 10 years], it is only my first time entering on a tourist visa.

The Continental Airlines staff of Newark, NJ refused to let me check in properly, as my return trip date exceeded the 90 days limit of the [L] visa. But... wasn't it a one-year, multiple-entry visa, I posed? Unfortunately, they look at the maximum stay for each entry, which is 90 days... and I had no proof of departure within that time frame. This was the first hint of my traveling neophytis. She justified the hassle by saying that her job would be jeopardized and a $20k fine would be imposed should I arrive in Beijing without proof of timely return. Not to mention that they would promptly ship, or rather fly, me back to the States, she threatened.

And that is how she so kindly helped me to purchase a $2930 one-way refundable ticket back to the states on June 2. The key word is 'refundable', meaning I *should* be able to gain entry into the country, and promptly refund the ticket aft. It was a moment of trust that I could not outwardly argue with.

lingually refreshed

After 6 weeks of being in an English-only environment, I had a small refresher sitting on the direct flight from Newark to Beijing. The elderly Wuhan couple sitting next to me could only speak Mandarin, and so we conversed over light topics. The display monitors had stopped displaying any Mandarin equivalents, and it was just as well. I translated such terms as ground speed, distance covered, altitude, and the like. It provided an opportunity to converse with this friendly couple. While he quizzed me inquisitively about tea, she sat between us with her eyes closed. He was a jovial soul, and bragged about my Mandarin skills to the woman across the aisle. Most foreigners on the flight, after all, were on their first flight to the mainland. The glory was short-lived, anyhow.

utility taxings

Assuming that one has gained successful entry into a country such as China, the first few days back in Beijing can prompt one to feel not just faraway, but also far behind. And so, I can only try to fit in. There is much to be done, and I am unsure how to tackle most of the tasks.

My 'new' apartment awaited my return. And unreservedly demanded my prompt attention.
• The plaster walls are falling apart (otherwise known as the Tao of Plaster).
• The tiles appear to be like new, but the grout job was never properly cleaned, and so a thick matte of grunge enshrouds every line, begging for more elbow grease than ay airline dare allow one to safely carry on.
• My apartment has but a few rudimentary outlets and begs for a bit of new wiring.
• My hot water is nowhere to be found.
• The washing machine is not plumbed.
• My gas stove begs for gas to light it's way.
• My zip code is mysteriously absent from my renter's contract. Where exactly am I?
• I am without potable water and need to order a few carboys of water, delivered.
• I am without Internet. Or rather... aside from the spotty, stolen wireless connection, I am without a defined access point. Furthermore, the phone that I must use to set up this connection is missing a power cord.
• I, being the foreigner that I am, need to register with the local police within 24 hours of arrival. Only problem is that I was *mainland* for closer to 48 by the time my landlord was able to escort me...

And of course the list does not end here. A larger problem is... how to approach solving these problems? My Mandarin characters are lacking in an undeniable way, and this limits me from hopping online to sort out these *routine* matters.

tongue tied

While I am able to communicate *which* problems I am facing, I struggle to set my feet upon the right path to solving them.

As a first step, I visit the maintenance crew of my apartment complex, apparently interrupting a visit from the worker's wife. She shoos me away in quest of a call with my landlady. These matters should be handled by the owner, of course. In fact, I only wanted to hear confirmation of what I already knew; I just wanted a line of defense should the landlady deflect my request.

A call with her leaves me to asking the real estate agency with which I signed the contract. They in turn tell me to ask the landlady. Sigh. There isn't enough eagerness in the world that could help me find the right person to ask.

I remind myself that they have all spoken the truth. The problem, stated rather indirectly, is my own. The problem is but for my own lacking that I cannot solve these matters singly-handed. Or doubly-handed, for that matter.

And so I was prepared to kowtow to my landlady. Relieve myself of any surviving pride and bow with fervent pleading - what better way to convey that one is truly in need of help?

Humility arrives not in stealth-like fashion, but more so as the unkempt town crier bearing truth.

head dirt

What time asks,
we must produce.
Of our wills and her ways
of might and otherwise true -
the night skies lurk;
day skies ever blue.
And the eyes that see
are but the same still two.