#why did the Buddha cross the road

[hymnless-space-nugget]

[dangermousie]

Second biting scene (that did not make it into the drama)

I’ve seen a couple of people ask and this is my fave scene in the novel. I am sad it did not make it in though I was pretty sure it wouldn’t for reasons that would become obvious once you read it. This is deepl translation - the chapter is 162-163.

Huo Bu Dou pressed lightly on the vermilion railing, crossed the corridor like an arrow, caught up with Shao Shang in three or two steps, grabbed her wrist, then flipped it, lifted her sleeve with the other hand to her upper arm, and there, as Luo Jitong said, was a very shallow circle of teeth marks, the wound was almost healed - he suddenly sank his face.

ShaoShang jumped in shock, while wrenching at the other's large palm, while trying to be solemn: "What do you want to do!"

The girl under the flower tree was pale and delicate, her soft cheeks flushed with a warm, inebriated blush, like rouge dyed on delicate, semi-transparent white jade, and the falling pink and white petals fell a little on her dark hair.

"I have something to say to you." He said.

 Shao Shang was furious: "Later, you let go first! Aigoo ...... you let go of ......" Huo not only did not let go of her wrist, but also the momentum of her slender waist, the force of almost her back out of breath.

 "Say it now." His tone is calm, Shao Shang helpless compromise, "then also can not be said here ah, find another place." Her reputation is bad enough, but not so bad as to break the pot.

 Huo Bu Dou is also familiar with the Changqiu Palace, heard the words and dragged Shao Shang towards the forest garden, Shao Shang busy said: "No, no, no, today the spring light is perfect, after the feast the ladies must go to the forest garden to dissipate the alcohol ...... go to the side hall, there are several isolated palace rooms... ..."

The two of them are in the middle of the road.

The two of them came to an unoccupied palace room, Huo Bu Dou walked with great strides, Shao Shang stumbled, Huo Bu Dou wanted to hold her several times, but she firmly refused.

Into the palace room, Shao Shang forcefully pushed away from the man, walked away a few steps: "Well, you have something to say."

 Huo Bu Dou stood in the doorway, turned his back and closed the parchment newly glued exquisite flower grille door with his back hand, like a gloomy god walking slowly towards her, Shao Shang couldn't help but take a step back.

 Huo Bu Dou lifted up the sleeve of his right arm, above is a circle of deep pink small teeth marks: "Why is your wound so shallow? At the beginning I should have bitten deeper than you."

 Shao Shang's left hand slowly caressed his upper right arm, pressed the scar, coldly said: "Over the years I have sought the best trauma doctors, used the best scar removal ointment, is to completely smooth out this mark. Now it's almost time, when I get married, this mark will fade away to nothing!"

The girl stood there arrogantly, her eyebrows cool, Huo Bu Dou suddenly hated, he was already very sick, there is no cure, but she wants to retreat, after the wound is healed to marry another person, why?

He has been practicing martial arts since childhood, the steps to control the opponent has been familiar with, even in the saddle sleepy to drowsy, once the hand can naturally adapt to the body, this instinct has helped him many times in exhaustion to overcome the enemy; but now he could not care less, a big step forward, no rules twisted the girl's arm, half-press her, lifting the sleeve on the bite.

Shao Shang was sitting on the shiny floor, stunned for a moment before reacting, like seeing a kind-eyed Buddha wipe off his disguise and reveal the true face of the demon.

Huo Bu Dou has always been very gentle to her, even the last time the arm for the alliance is also a good voice to discuss before the mouth, how to go to the border six years, from the advanced and developed feudal society regressed back to the primitive clan of drinking blood.

The intense skin-breaking pain came from the upper arm, Shao Shang right arm was held immobile, can only use the left hand back, first clenched his thick black strong hair pulled back, she thought this force down at least his scalp will be painful, but Huo Bu Dou face as usual, teeth continue to force, only with cold withdrawing eyes fierce glare at her.

"You let go, let go! Let go of me ...... pain pain pain ...... you let go of your mouth first!" The sharp tip of the teeth cut through the outer epidermis penetrating the muscular layer, Shao Shang pain hard, haphazardly slapping his shoulders and arms, hate also to grab his flawless face, the result of her that in the palace life carefully care up the nail root rupture, their own fingertips in turn emerge blood.

The first thing that happened was that the scars that were about to disappear were covered with fresh blood, the teeth were clear, and the flesh and blood were clear - it was obvious that even if a miracle doctor came to life, she would not be able to get rid of the scars in a few months.

Huo Bu Dou kneeled on one leg, while fumbling for something in a brocade bag at his waist.

Shao Shang looked at her own blood-stained arm and could not restrain her anger; she was also a street fighter, not some gentle and thrifty honest girl, ate such a big loss which could not be forgotten, immediately pounced on the man to bite and beat.

Huo Bu Dou cheek and jaw took a few blows, he did not take it seriously, but at this time he remembered the steps to control the enemy.

He held a white jade vial in his right hand, his left arm slightly flexed, pinched the girl's right hand accurately, backhanded her into his arms, his slender back just against his chest, holding the right hand of the white jade vial to fingertips hooked up the girl's right sleeve, revealing the bloody wound, and then bit her sleeve robe to keep it from drooping, thumb pushed open the velvet plug of the white jade vial, sprinkling the powder inside evenly on the bite.

Shao Shang wailed miserably, like a beast being skinned, the wound dressing burning pain, she knew the powder could prevent the bite from inflammation and ulceration, but the last dressing he was so gentle to coax her and tease her, his eyes loving and cherishing, like a brother, like a father, why do this to her now!

She was trapped in his iron-clad arms, struggling like crazy with pain, but his chest was hard and his arms were strong, so she punched him hard with her left hand to no avail; red-eyed, she realized her right hand was still firmly held by Huo's left hand, so she bit him angrily on the back of his hand.

 Between the teeth out of a trace of blood, the white skin on the back of his hand ruptured in a moment, Huo Bu Dou as if he did not know, like a gentleman picking a lamp for his beloved, the look of concentration moving, carefully to her arm each bloody hole sprinkle good powder.

Shao Shang got tired of biting, indignantly let go of his mouth, turned around and angrily cursed: "You are crazy!"

 Huo Bu Dou didn't change his face: "You're no better."

  "You're an asshole!"

 "And how much better can you be, heartless, selfish and cold."

 The two stared at each other angrily, as if they were enemies in a past life who had made a great hatred of life and death, neither of them refused to back down a step.

 Shao Shang said viciously: "I am not good, why are you still pestering me!"

 Huo didn't answer, he kissed the corner of his mouth, which was still bloodied, and kissed it deep and furiously, as if he was biting down on his prey's throat, and Shao Shang whimpered and pushed his face. As always, he couldn't be ruthless and had to let her go.

And so ultimately in 163:

Shao Shang exhausted sitting, back against the appropriate fight in the kicked over the case, gasping for breath to see Huo Bu Dou to dress their wounds. A circle of cloth tape properly wrapped around the arm, thick breathable fine linen presents a comfortable beige, reflecting Shao Shang's arm but white in blue. And Huo not doubt is also torn enough, hair messy, face and neck scattered with fine red scratches, the back of the left hand and a shocking bite wound - in fact, they have fought many times before, but never as this time to see blood and bone.

And then in 163, I love this bit:

Huo Bu Dou grabbed her, kneeling on one leg, firmly holding her slender waist, and pleaded, "Don't be so cruel, six years ago I was wrong to you, others don't understand, but I do - you never trusted others, nor did you want to rely on others, but I forced you to accept me, and when you wanted to live with me wholeheartedly, I gave up. When you want to live with me wholeheartedly, but I gave you up ......"

There is a high wall made of ice in her heart, this side of the wall is her alone, no one can enter. Six years ago, Ling Bu Dou crashed through this ice wall with a thunderbolt, saying that in the future they could keep each other warm, and she believed him with all her strength, and what happened ...... she had made up her mind that she would never come out again in this life!

"I will never forgive you!" She dripped tears, gritted her teeth, and said viciously, "Don't dream, I can live well until now, is by hard heart. I will never forgive someone who has wronged me, once unfaithful, a hundred times unused, six years ago you would abandon me, how do you know you will not repeat the same mistake in the future! I know that everyone is helping you to talk, including my family, but I don't want to do what you want! I can live well without you, I will never trust you again, never!"

  Huo Bu Dou also fell into tears, humbly pleading: "They are not speaking for me, they are helping us. Take a look at yourself in the mirror, the way you look at Yuan Shen is completely different from when you look at me. I'm not blind, and neither is anyone else!"

[skipping a bit]

"These six years I always have a dream that my parents, brothers and sisters are alive and well, never had a tragedy; I went to your house to propose marriage, you agreed, and then we happily became husband and wife -"

Shao Shang's eyes were blurred with tears, thinking how good it would be if Huo Chong and his wife were still alive, if all of them were alive.

Huo Bu Dou would have been the most handsome and cheerful young man in the entire capital, and they would have met at the lantern market, but this time, he would not have had any worries, but would have walked over to her openly, and as soon as he saw his face, he would have been a nymphomaniac. [bwahahaha what MTL? What does this even mean? whatever way you read it, it’s delicious...]

Maybe Mrs. Xiao will dislike him for being reckless, and Papa Cheng will dislike him for being abrupt, but given the Huo family's illustrious family, she will always marry over; when her children are around, she will tell everyone that it was actually the cabbage that moved first.

 Huo Bu Dou's eyes are red, his eyelashes condensed with tears, grabbing her hands and placing them on his cheeks: "Don't be so cruel, please, don't be so cruel to me."

The Shao Shang can no longer maintain the indifferent frame, like a child crying, tears and snot, no image; today she is defeated, no power to fight back.

[skipping a bit]

the door of the palace room was swish open, the number of inside and outside meet, only to see Shao Shang upright local, Huo Bu Doubt single-legged kneeling in front of her, both have tear marks on their faces, clothes have scattered blood, the floor of the case and its upper furnishings scattered messy.

[kuraikyu]

anonymous : Something something :'3 Suguru and scars, piercings, tattoos....enlighten us if he has any? Other piercings than gauges?

Oh, I shall enlighten you even with a tiny variety ( verses ) . Everything you mentioned he kinda does not have except for gauges. In his classic verse he aims for 'purity' which means tattoos for him are not permissible because he wants to maintain his body 'clean' ( but where he likely is to have tattoos might be his mafia verse which is under development but I already know that I'm picking either black dragon or Buddha covering the entirety of his back, we shall see ).

For the second time, I go against Gege's official canon. In my pursuit for signs of scars, I smack manga because we don't get to see him shirtless anywhere after his fight with Toji aside from the shower scene where we get to look at his back alone and there's no sight of scars.

Kenjaku surviving the black hole ( Manga chapter-208: Star And Oil / 4. )

The only moment when we get a look at his bare 'front' is thanks to Kenjaku's fight with Tengen, WHERE we see no scars either; ahem, Kenjaku's mastery in body restoration is truly exquisite and you'll see in a while why I say that.

Toji's Inverted Spear of Heaven ( Manga chapter-73: Hidden Inventory, part 9. )

Because this blade hit both Suguru('s chest) and Satoru('s throat) I like the idea that despite Shoko's professionalism in reverse cursed technique it left something behind on them that couldn't entirely heal; something faint and haunting, reminding of past traumas like an imprint of foreign forces fueling a memory and a lesson when everything went downhill - scar.

Ah, but yes he does have something 'hidden'.

Now to the part that interests you and how I manipulated such knowledge in favor of my headcanons.

Scars: ( classic verse )

Toji's hit left behind an extended ' X ' shaped scar covering a solid half of his chest. Starting and crossing each side of the major pectoralis and ending around first tendinous intersection closer to his sides. Not painful nor itchy rather sunken and lacking color. The process of regeneration left composition of fibrous tissues rather smooth and unfortunately intact over the years. Geto himself thought the scar would never regenerate because it remained unchanged for so long unlike any other scars that would fade over time. He never considered dermatological healthcare procedures to minimize it because it never bothered him from the aesthetic side. - Sensitivity to the touch ranges from mild to moderate, but he strangely does not suffer from 'old aches' when cloudy skies set your scars tingling.

It should be noted that the mystery of Kenjaku's power / binding vow not only restored the function of his limbs and organs but also eliminated any visible defects and imperfections such as scars when he claimed his body.

Piercings:

Gauges only ( classic verse ). But in his !Sensei AU because his villainous road is denied / delayed he does have several other piercings. ( more bellow ; suggestive ahead ).

Oral: straight barbell - classic middle tongue. Chest: circular barbell with ribbed cones - horizontally pierced left nipple. Genitals: curved barbell - on each side of testis and frenum. His new profession gave him vocational degree so it is naural he is fully capable to carry out independent manipulations in order to replace design of jewelry or simply put it ' in and out '. And yes, each of them are sensitive to the sensation of touch that goes without saying.

All done after graduation from Tech. As mentioned with gauges HERE , he did that himself. By the time he decided to get the rest of them -- considering risky attainability of other body areas it was punctured by other studio professionals he greatly trusted with his body, and where he got himself employed for a part-time job as a body piercer.

Because his story is thread-dependent ( if it leads him into turning evil ) he removes all piercings; leaving body to heal and keeps only gauges maintaining body purity he aims for in his classic verse.

[angedemystere]

Reading Wrap Up for 2023

Sad to say, I finished fewer books this year (22) than last year (35), but I started more books. Starting a full time job in August while staying at my part-time job brought my reading to a screeching halt. Here's my takeaway on what I can do going forward:

not read multiple books

set up a stricter reading routine

load up on mysteries

crank down on nonfiction

put down books that are not holding my attention

Another dilemma is that I'm joining my church's Bible Challenge where we read the all of it in a year. But I want to adjust my habits, anyway, so I'll use more downtime for reading in general.

Anyway, here are the books I read, my ratings, and my quick thoughts:

European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman (2.5/5) - I'm peeved by this series. There's a lot to like, but why, WHY does Goss insist on warping the preexisting characters? I'm not continuing this series unless someone convinces me it's worthwhile.

Jesus: A Story of Enlightenment (3.5/5) - It's interesting, for sure. That's ... probably the highest praise I can give. There are ideas in this I don't agree with, but I thought about this book for a while after finishing it. I wouldn't discourage anyone from trying it. Just don't take it as gospel.

The Other Paris (4/5) - Woof! This book might punch your faith in humanity in the face, but you'll be fascinated while it's happening. Great glimpse into the not glamorous side of Paris.

The Monstrumologist (3.5/5) - This one took me a couple tries to start, but it finally sucked me in. I think, while the monster stuff is great, the book got more interesting as the relationship between the POV character and the scientist developed. It's like if Sherlock Holmes studied and hunted monsters, was more of a jerk, and had a kid sidekick instead of Watson.

Monk's Hood (4/5) - This installment of the Brother Cadfael mysteries felt more like "things are fairly normal but then this person/situation arises" without it being a huge crisis like a war. It also stays in Shrewsbury, which makes it fun to watch Cadfael as he maneuvers around his home turf.

Till We Have Faces (4.5/5) - I didn't expect to enjoy this retelling so much! I'm not even a huge fan of the Eros/Psyche myth. Or maybe that explains my enjoyment - it doesn't focus much on Psyche or Eros, rather fleshing out Psyche's sister (look I'm a sucker for ugly protags).

Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? (4/5) - Solid nonfiction read about how Christians can better communicate with and love people of different religious beliefs (or heck, even other Christians who don't agree with them on certain points). Worth checking out if you're interested in discourse on this subject.

On Stories (4/5) - More C.S. Lewis and various essays on how and why stories do what they do, especially fantasy. Can't remember much about specific points right now, but I enjoy his point of view, especially as a writer.

To Kill a Kingdom - (2.5/5) Not my cup of tea in the end. I wanted to like it - Little Mermaid retelling, enemies to lovers with monstrous protag who starts off hating humans but learns to bond with them. Except I didn't see much bonding between the MC and the humans she's forced to cooperate with. Even when she does develop her relationship with the main guy who becomes her love interest, I was lukewarm on their romance. Never got attached to the characters tbh.

City of Light, City of Poison (4.5/5) - It was wild reading this book, then watching the Puppet History video on this topic and realizing it was about the same thing! Anyway, CRAZY real-life story about 17th century shenanigans. The writer does a great job weaving a narrative out of many people's lives and building up the intrigue.

The Three from Galilee (3.5/5) - I liked this imagined way Jesus could have grown up with his family. It filled out parts of his family we don't think much about, like his grandparents and siblings. There are also sweet nods to parables he will tell later. The big thing holding this back from a 4 was the weird romance subplot near the end. I'm fine with giving fiction!Jesus a love interest to explore the idea of what that could've been like. But the way it was handled ... just ... what?

The Good Death (3.5/5) - My first foray into this series, even though it's not the first in the series. I'd like to go back and check out the first installment. While I liked how it followed two timelines to build up the mystery of the first murder (chronologically) that the MC gets involved in, the solution to the mystery left a bad taste for me. I'm fine with how the later timeline wrapped up, if a bit strained in its conflict. I'll read more, but I'm not in a rush.

The House of Silk (4/5) - I read Horowitz's Moriarty last year, which was interesting but odd to fit into the Holmes canon. House of Silk felt more like a natural fit because it's a case for Holmes and Watson. Dark and ultimately sad but well worth the time.

Legend (3.5/5) - I went into this with maybe too high expectations of it being a Les Mis reimagining with the MCs paralleling Jean Valjean and Javert. Which they do, but they're unique characters. I'll admit, I didn't get as invested in them as I am in the OGs, but their story was enjoyable. Not sure I'm motivated to continue the series, though.

The Warden (4/5) - I didn't realize this was going to end on a mf cliffhanger. Yeah, I'm telling you that right off the bat. What a rip. I still like it, but how can you do that to me? Anyway, it's a D&D style story set in a village with some small-town problems and a potential BIG problem looming in the background. That fits my jam as long as the characters are interesting, which they are. Nice!

The Monstrous Child (3/5) - The very rare Norse myth retelling that focuses on Hel. It reads like middle grade or young YA, which I think is the intention. Hel is very snappish, but almost all the characters are unpleasant, so her attitude fits. It also seemed shallow when there's a lot of pain that doesn't get addressed in a satisfying way. It has its moments, but few and far between.

Hounded (4/5) - I'm surprised by how much I got invested. It's urban fantasy with all mythologies, but this story keeps the focus on Irish gods and stories. The MC strikes that balance of powerful and vulnerable enough that he can't take on the antagonist with ease. Also, he has a dog, and he respects powerful women. Will try more!

The Shack (4/5) - This book confused me because I wasn't sure if the author had inserted himself as a character and/or if the real world part was based on a true story. But I liked the story and the truths it explored about our relationship with God while still feeling grounded in a person's unique experiences (rather than just an illustrative sermon). Plus, it was fun seeing God the Father as a vivacious black woman and Jesus showing human clumsiness.

Out of the Silent Planet (4.5/5) - I'm showing my Lewis bias, I know. He just knows how to pace a story that at parts could be boring because not a lot is happening. I was invested the whole time thanks to how invested in the MC is. And the MC has no reason to care about anything because he just stumbles (and gets kidnapped) into the adventure. Do you think Ransom is a little based on a young Tolkien?

The Thursday Murder Club (4/5) - Fun, funny, and surprisingly dark mystery featuring septuagenarians as the detectives. It did keep me guessing. Sometimes the twists were a bit much with how quickly one apparent solution came up, only to be dashed by what was really going on. The one book this year I read in a day.

The Invisible Man (3.5/5) - This is a dark comedy. We can agree on that, right? Like, slap-stick comedy with morbid moral questions. The guy causes mayhem, including to himself. And then he thinks he can rule the world? How am I not supposed to find that funny?

The Phantom of the Opera: A Graphic Novel (4.5/5) - Beautiful adaptation of the novel that captures the gothic atmosphere and shows the Phantom as a terrifying, pathetic dude. It trims some of the subplots that don't involved Christine and Raoul, which for the sake of story flow makes sense.

[lundgrenpollard66]

Sin City For The Household!

Danang City, advantageously serving the area around central Vietnam, is 3rd largest city in a rural area. I fabricated two teams of goggles to simulate Mrs. Let's take a with why American Legion baseball numbers are dwindling.

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[srbachchan]

DAY 4837

Jalsa, Mumbai                  May 26,  2021                 Wed  6:01 PM

“ जीवन है एक चुभा हुआ तीर , छटपटाता मन , तड़फड़ाता शरीर  ।

सच्चाई है  - सिद्ध करने की ज़रूरत है   ?

पीर , पीर, पीर  ।

तीर को दो पहले निकाल ,

किसने किया शर का सन्धान  ?

क्यूँ किया शर का सन्धान   ?

ये हैं बाद के सवाल  ।

तीर को दो पहले निकाल   ।”

.. and as the rivers of life flow by , and the idleness strikes a note .. I sit in the prayer and wisdom of Gautam Buddha, Siddharth, Amitabh .. and ponder over the lines from Babuji from his satire , written in Cambridge on ‘Buddha aur Naachghar’ .. Buddha and the Dancing Hall  .. with the pertinent lines of his teachings and thoughts .. 

Of course I have mentioned this earlier and referred to this poem and its words in several references, but just felt like getting them back in remembrance .. and to be enlightened, on this day of the achievement of the form by the Buddha, in the state of enlightenment in Babuji himself and his wisdom and his far sightedness .. 

He was in Cambridge to do his thesis on WB Yeats and Occultism , but during his academic work and the kind of scheduling it required, he also wrote 200 poems and a prose compilation in the form of a diary , called ‘Pravaas ki Diary’ - प्रवास की डाइअरी - , which became an entire volume in his Autobiography of 4 volumes . The Power and intensity of his prose ; a classic in the genre of autobiographical writing in India -

‘क्या भूलूँ क्या याद करूँ 1 ; नीढ़ का निर्माण 2 ; बसेरे से दूर (प्रवास की डाइअरी )3 ; दशद्वार से सोपान तक 4  ..

kya bhuloon ky yaad karoon ; needh ka nirmaan ;  basere se door ( pravaas ki diary) ; dashadwaar se sopaan tak ..

1 .. ‘kya bhoolun .. are the opening lines of his poem .. ‘what to remember and what to forget’ .. his early life its tragedies and the pain of existence then  ..

2 .. ‘needh ka .. is another opening line of his poem .. ‘the building of the  nest again’ .. the meeting with my Mother after the sad passing of his first wife, and the, building of the nest of his life again .. 

3 .. ‘basere .. (‘pravaas) .. his years in England when he was studying to do his thesis, and the diary that he kept ..  the diary of my travel .. the word ‘pravaas’ is in meaning the migrant  .. basere .. the place of your home .. your living place your home , where you are established in home .. se door .. away from home .. so England ..

and ..

4 .. ‘dashadwaar .. from Dashadwar to Sopaan .. Dashadwaar, is 10 doors , or openings .. dash is 10 , dwaar is doors or openings .. it came from the observation in his study in Allahabad, when we were staying at 17, Clive Road .. his study had 4 doors and 6 windows which include the ‘roshandaans’ .. the openings on the wall almost near the celing, for light and ventilation .. in those days they were called ‘roshandaans’ .. I doubt if modern day architects build them anymore .. its all false ceilings and air conditioned ducts and corridors .. it is also symbolic of the 10 openings in the human body .. 9 as we all know .. and the 10th is the third eye of Shiv at the centre of the forehead, just above the meeting place of the two eyebrows  .. and Sopaan was the name of his house in Delhi .. Sopaan meaning stairs - for when we built it for him and Ma and he saw it he found that this 3 storied building had an entire staircase of steps to go up , hence Sopaan ..

But we were with Babuji and Buddha and his teachings and philosophy and wisdom that He attained during his enlightenment .. 

‘life is like a arrow pierced in your body - a restless mind , a quivering body  ... it never does require justification of this to prove it right does it  ? .. it is , it is , it is .. pain pain pain .. who did pierce the arrow .. why was it pierced .. are all questions that can be answered later .. first just remove the pierced arrow ..’

the 👆🏾 was in the middle of the day .. but then distractions appeared and the finishing be done now .. 10:45 PM .. 

.. and there is a quiet about .. of peace perhaps .. of stillness and humility to bear and live in the flowing river , which we all attempt to cross .. EVER 

GN and my love ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[vajranam]

Nagas Long Advice

Naga, (Sanskrit: “serpent”) in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism, a member of a class of mythical semidivine beings, half human and half cobra. They are a strong, handsome species who can assume either wholly human or wholly serpentine form and are potentially dangerous but often beneficial to humans.

 nagas are considered the offspring of the Rishi or sage, Kasyapa, the son of Marichi.  Kashyapa is said to have had by his twelve wives, other diverse progeny including reptiles, birds, and all sorts of living beings. They are denizens of the netherworld city called Bhogavati.  It is believed that ant-hills mark its entrance. 

The naga -Varuna connection is retained in Tibetan Buddhism, where Varuna, lord of weather, is known as Apalala Nagarajah. 

As a category of nature spirit:

"Nagas [kLu] are a class of beings (often snake-like in form) that dwell in a variety of locations ranging from waterways and underground locations and also in unseen realms. These beings have their own perceptions and vary in their enlightened level as do humans and other beings. Nagas are susceptible to suffering created by mankind's carelessness and basic ignorance of proper conduct in nature and disrespectful actions in relation to our environment. Therefore Nagas often retaliate towards humans when they behave in such ignorant manners. The expression of the Nagas' discontent and agitation can be felt as skin diseases, various calamities and so forth. 

Additionally, Nagas can bestow various types of wealth, assure fertility of crops and the environment as well as decline these blessings. For this reason the practice of Lu Sang has been developed or arises as a natural method to increase prosperity, and assist the Nagas by preserving the positive qualities of their natural environment." ~ Tsewang Ngodrup Rinpoche

The bodhisattva Manjushri, in wrathful form, can appear as Nagaraksha (Tib: jam.pal lu'i drag.po).

If we have offended Nagas in any way, they can afflict us if we have a karmic connection with them from previous lives. Such signs that the Nagas are offended includes:

dreams of snakes attacking us

accidents

skin diseases, especially leprosy

cancer

kidney problems

disharmony within our lives

in extreme cases, can lead to possession and even death.

Welcome to world of Nagas, in my personal path those guys been very hard and rude to me, in short dream of snakes a lot for very long time, dark water yes, diseases, accidents think I saw so much close death that now yama is my best friend.

Till one day I had enough and instead of fighting them I start to understand them, so I ask what did wrong in past and that night dream when I was kid and cross the road of a python who escape the zoo in a river. Since that day was scarded of snakes, then they show ne well in past I used to smoke yes we musician do that not much respect the nature and then they show me earth what we human do to earth and if we look really with open eyes we lose faith on humanity.

Those dream and question been for weeks and was doing the apology to the Nagas realm everyday.

Till one day I pray them and ask then to teach me the dharma, me sinner who know nothing. Day after well strangely no more aftaid of snakes that point that I want adopt one, I end up adopt three of them they are my nagas reminder. I did learn and still learn from them a lot and yes that not just about nagas treasure but learn respect and self respect.

Esoteric part

My personal esoteric work is alive now for nearly twenty five years work with lot deferent beings still working with different and Nagas are included on in.

Higher form of nagas is the dragon the highest form protect Buddha, bodhisattvas low form are Elemental.

Highest forn of nagas are the king nagas who got lot of power that much power that you need Vishnu or Buddha himself to tame them. Is very recommended to do there mantras if you do higher practice.

Lowest form is snakes spiritual snakes close to our animal snakes they are the same.

Do physical snakes are nagas answer “yes"

So now massive warning : ⚠️ things do not do except if you want real damage, we live in very high risk time, do ever ask yourself climate change and why so much new deaseses that we can’t find vaccin for . Now ask yourself do humanity has piss off nagas yes no ritual will do nothing only things that will do is start respecting earth.

Now do not :

Pee in river

Drop anything in river or sacred space

Do not piece off a yogi because they hate that

Do not blaspheme any sacred place or text

Do not smoke

The Do not list is very long due to nagas touch both vedic, budhhism and jain can even extend to sikh too.

Why not piss off a yogi for example Milarepa said that you could kill him but those who hold him for account for his vows will follow for lives. NAGAS.

So simple things that everyone could do to respect nagas start to take care of mother nature.

[kritikasehra]

Places To Visit In Thailand In 2020 To Change Your Worldview!

Serene shrines, impressive skyscrapers and the fine road meals in the world are all looking ahead to you in Bangkok. However outside the capital, there’s island fun on Phuket, or head north for hill tribes and heavenly hikes. Here’s our pick of the maximum famous locations to go to in Thailand, massive and small.

Living the Thai lifestyle robotically equals residing the excessive life in this Southeast Asian land of plenty. There’s in order that a good deal of fabulousness to paste for your ought to-do list. For larger spenders, Bangkok has some of the most exhilaratingly vertiginous roof bars you’ll ever drink at, at the same time as Patong is the area to celebrate birthday

Anywhere you head, relaxation confident, temples and Buddha statues come as standard. Two weeks did not do justice but once you’ve Thai’d it, we realize you’ll like it, and you’ve been given a lifetime to hold it again.

Hew su wat waterfall in khao yai countrywide park thailand

Domestic to thick forest and open savannah, Khao Yai is pristine sufficient to nurture breeding populations of bears, tigers and wild elephants. However poaching is a problem, and so the park needs site visitors. Fortuitously, Khao Yai is on hand from Bangkok in only a few hours and most of the site visitors are day-trippers, who are satisfied with taking quick walks to the numerous waterfalls. Then there are the intrepid few who hike into the park’s indoors where Pha Diao Dai – or lonely cliff – famous breathtaking perspectives over apparently countless rainforest and rippling mountains.

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2. Phitsanulok

Close enough to the world background website at Sukhothai for a pit stop, however left out via all but some, this sleepy provincial metropolis preserves one the country’s holiest and most lovely Buddhas. Inside the historical interior of Wat Phra Si Rattana Mahathat, and at the end of a colonnade of pillars elaborately embellished with gold filigree, sits the Phra Buddha Chinnarat, widespread and shimmering, crowned with a lotus-formed halo and radiating nirvanic calm.

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3. Koh Samet

It’s three hours by way of car from Bangkok, then forty five mins via ferry from Ban Phe Pier – but once you’ve arrived, you’ll discover it was worth it, and you truly need to go away. Out in Thailand’s eastern Gulf, little Samet island ticks all of the bins iciness-escaping visitors require: crumbly white beaches, obvious warm waters and a laid-lower back vibe that sets it aside from larger spots such as Phuket. Positive, busy inns do exist – Hat Sai Kaew (Crystal Sand beach) is a buzz of banana boats and energetic accommodations. However head for the likes of Ao Nuan, Ao Wai and Ao Pakarang (Coral Bay in Thai) and you’ll discover life has all the urgency of a swaying hammock. Crack open a chilled bottle of Singha beer and do nothing till the scattered seafood eating places beckon for sizzling prawn lunches which could remaining hours.

4. Trang

Yes, there are nonetheless unspoilt seashores and islands in Thailand. Especially within the southern province of Trang. Right here the ramshackle timber capital stands next to an extended stretch of wooded area-sponsored bays and creamy white strands, covered with the aid of Hat Chao Mai countrywide Park. Offshore islands include Koh Muk, Koh Libon, Koh Phetra and Koh Kradan, ringed with reefs, trimmed with white-pepper-sand and – for now as a minimum – devoid of the large resorts that clutter the coast of neighbouring Krabi province.

5. Bangkok

Neon-frantic and temple-tranquil, the Thai capital is actually unmissable, with stacks of things to see and do but you fancy spending a while. Delivering reams of cultural and historic attractions, BKK also flaunts a present day facet with muscular skyscrapers and myriad outbreaks of current structure, appropriate artwork galleries, and captivating museums. While you want to spend, the city is prepared to sell: in frenetic markets (among them the floating range for which the Thai capital is one of these hits) in addition to mega malls, and the dining scene is a spin, from gourmet restaurants to avenue food. After dark matters are buzzing, with pulsating nightclubs, live music, cocktail bars, high-quality rooftop bars and adrenaline-laced Muay Thai fights. Getting around is straightforward, the BTS sky education, MRT subway, numerous buses, taxis, and tuk tuks. Perhaps great of all, you’ll discover accommodation to fit your needs – something your bag and your budget.

6. Chiang Mai

It’s often dubbed the northern capital, and in its own manner, Chiang Mai gives Bangkok a run for its cash, with a mad whirl of lifestyle and nature. You won’t run out of spiritual shrines – there are more than 500 temples to appreciate. In the meantime, for youngsters, and adults, too, there’s Chiang Mai night Zoo. In case you want to stretch a leg, strive trekking in lush jungles and rafting along boiling-white rivers. At Thailand’s highest point, Doi Inthanon, you’ll get to fulfill ethnic hill tribes, witness an international of amazing waterfalls and feed watermelons and bananas to remarkable elephants at an ethical sanctuary. Not like Bangkok, the nightlife right here is low-key, however don’t take that as a demonstration to live indoors as soon as the sun goes down. There are lots of bars to unwind in, and if you’re itching to stock up on brightly colored Thai pots, bags and shirts to present the oldsters lower back home, the night bazaar has your call written all over it.

7. Phuket

Thailand’s largest island and one of the most-visited and most-visited within the usa, Phuket has many faces. First-timers often head to the thronging sands of Patong, on the west coast, regarded for its no-holds-barred nightlife and watersports. Past, although, there are beaches to match all of us. Seize a boat to the scenic Freedom seaside, switch off on Karon seashore, drink within the views from Kathu seashore, and put together for lots greater. Promthep Cape is the place to move for liquid-lovable sunsets. After darkish, the leisure cranks into existence: there a international-magnificence shows and exhilarating Muay Thai fights; food is, without exception, scrumptious, from the smart eating places of Phuket town to the simple, scorching seafood grew to become out at road and night time markets. Trekking, cross karting, ethical elephant encounters, fishing, snorkelling, and jet snowboarding are only a few sports to try, and Wat Chalong, together with the massive Buddha, are  of the most famous cultural websites. Don’t skip Phuket metropolis – the ornate old neoclassical buildings and luridly painted shophouses are beautiful. For fun and giggles, Baan Teelanka (the upside down house) and Phuket Trickeye Museum are the biz.

8. Ayutthaya Thailand

Even if you hate the idea of history on vacation, this vicinity will convert you: effortlessly reached from Bangkok, the Unesco-listed Ayutthaya is one of Thailand’s elegant historic cities. Evocative ruins take you on a journey lower back in time to Siam’s golden age. Wat Yai Chai Mongkorn is mainly photogenic, with tall stupas which you are permitted to climb, surrounded by rows of Buddha statues swathed in saffron tones. You’ll need to make a date with Wat Mahathat, in which the famous stone Buddha head peers out from the countless roots of a banyan tree growing around it. See, too, Wat Ratchaburana and Wat Si Sanphet. The old Dutch and Portuguese regions are really worth a visit and the floating market is an awesome area to choose souvenirs. An employed bicycle– or, in case you’re an experienced rider, a scooter – is the most effective way to appreciate Ayutthaya. That said, tuk-tuks amass on each corn

9. Krabi

Considered one of Southern Thailand’s most famous provinces, Krabi can’t fail to seduce: it has existence-changing reviews for vacationers each at the mainland and on its islands. Koh Phi Phi is frequently said to be one of Thailand’s most picturesque islands; check out Maya Bay and Phi Phi perspective to see why. Koh Lanta is an extra laid-back affair, with long, sandy seashores, chilled-out beach bars, mangroves and a Moken (sea gypsy) network. Animal lover? You’ll need to volunteer at Lanta Animal Welfare, now not just for the feel-true element but to help make a difference. Koh Jum and Koh Rok are more than one the province’s smaller and lesser-visited island favorites. At the mainland, Railay is a rock climber’s paradise, Ao Nang is a bustling seaside motel, and Krabi city has an enticing local-Thai vibe.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: In the Light of a Blade

I lay in bed but I wasn’t asleep when Mingfei came in at 4 am, reeking of alcohol and soaking wet, like he’d been walking around in the drizzle.

I couldn’t even be angry. I was too worried about what was happening to one of the most important persons in my life. I sat him down on the bed and, as the leader of Club-S, told him to tell me what was going on with him.

Mingfei was blaming himself for everything that was happening. I couldn’t catch all of his reasoning because he was slurring his speech and barely staying awake.

One thing was clear to me: EVA had truly turned against us. She had been holding back video evidence of Mingfei and I in our draconized states. Everyone in the Secret Society with access to those records knew that we could break the blood threshold, coming close to pure blood dragons. We grew scales and wings and teeth befitting a top predator.

“What are we, Carli?” He asked, laying in bed in his clothes, staring at the ceiling. “I have to figure out what I am. If I really am a monster... shouldn’t I just turn myself in?”

I shook my head. “You defeated Herzog in that state. You’re a hero. The Academy just doesn’t understand that people like us can fight for what’s good and right. I think Anjou understood. That’s why he kept us secret for so long.”

He looked at me with sunken eyes and a distant gaze. “I felt like I should know Herzog. Like we had met before. Crow’s going to take me to a place I can get more information. If it’s too hard on you to do that, I understand.”

I lowered my eyes. No one on earth had hurt me as personally as Herzog had. When I lifted my eyes again, however, I’d made my decision. “Hey... you need people who understand you to stand beside you. I’m the only one with you in this crazy world right now.” 

I took his hand and squeezed it. “Consider this my duty as President of Club-S.”

The next day, Crow opened the heavy iron gate. “What Tachibana Masamune... or Herzog left behind is all here.”

Behind the gate was a huge warehouse.

The warehouse was hidden in an inconspicuous place in Tokyo. The warehouses behind this fence were all unmarked and looked the same. The fenced in area was at the end of a maze of gravel service roads. If you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for, there was no way you’d be able to find it without getting lost.

Ru’Yi was strapped to my back in a special carrier. Spider Fang and Tongzi hung at my hips. I stood next to Mingfei while Nono and Johann stood behind us. Crow undid the padlocked chain on the heavy door and held the door open for us.

The first thing we saw was a blood-stained black trench coat, lined with the Amaterasu painting of the famous cave scene. It hung on a headless model with a sword at its side.

As soon as we saw it, we stood in silence. I remember this coat flying like a battle flag, Chisei looking at me with golden eyes as he stood on the fire escape of Tokyo Tower. Then and now, I’d stood both in awe and fear of him, the emperor hybrid.

Mingfei likely thought of his relationship with Chisei as Akira Ryuu where he thought of Chisei as his precious Aniki and loved him dearly.

“Why are Chisei’s clothes here?” He asked, after our moments of silence.

“Only a few people know that Herzog is a demon that misled the Hydra clans. Among most of the ranks, he’s said to be the family ancestor who sacrificed himself to save us all at Tokyo Tower....” Crow said, his voice a monotone, his face schooled into a blank expression.

I let out a loud hiss and looked away. “Is that why you ignored Aoi Gen?”

Mingfei looked at me, confused. “Who’s Aoi Gen?”

Crow glanced down at me, smirking. “Now you’re thinking like a politician. If we acknowledged that Tachibana turned the Hydra Clans against her family and massacred the original Gen clan, well... we’d have to admit to everything... including his fake gravestone at the family site where you’ve been staying.”

“As sad as she is... she’s not worth that much drama.” 

I turned back to him, glaring fiercely. “So you’re going to continue to ignore her?”

“Officially? Yes.”

“Officially being the operative word?”

“Chisei can’t ignore something like that.” He looked back to the trench coat, changing the subject. “There are those who still come here to pay their respects. This warehouse is called the Teacher and Student Collection.”

I turned my eyes back to the coat. There were so many memories I had of it. Most of them were unpleasant and yet, the memory of him surfaced, of his hanging out of the helicopter hatch over the Red Well as we prepared to face death together. I couldn’t help but be moved.

Chisei and I were enemies for a long time. However, in the end, we shared certain intimacies with each other only and with no one else.

Crow chuckled. “Should we leave you two alone? It seems you have things that need to be said.”

My mood immediately dampened. “I’m not not sure what you mean?”

“There were certain rumors through the senior clan members that you two were more than just friends...”

“He tried to kill me!” I objected loudly.

Crow held his hands up in defense. “Don’t shoot the messenger!”

I crossed my arms and looked away. The memories of my baby dying in the Red Well came to mind and tears sparked my eyes.

Mingfei reached out to me. “If this is too much for you...”

“Look. I’m not leaving. Let’s just stay on topic.” I dismissed him with a wave.

Johann spoke up behind us. “You have the same swords?”

“Ah. A keen observer!” Crow exclaimed. “The swords on the dummy are replicas. Carli has the real thing.”

Crow turned to lead us inside.  “All of these things are in Herzog’s collection. And he’s quite the collector. He’s got everything from ancient buddha statues to classical paintings... there are 5,000 rare books, 6,000 vinyl records...”

Crow continued to go on as we walked through what was essentially the Museum of Herzog.

“What a pig.” Nono grumbled.

“I know right?” Crow said coldly, stopping next to a jeweled Fabergé egg.

“What’s this?” Mingfei pointed to a box on the table.

“Oh... don’t open that. That’s his hair collection.”

“Hair?” Mingfei asked, confused.

“Yeah some people have a bit of a fetish with it comes to women. They sleep with them and then take a lock of hair as a memento. Of course, Herzog was obsessed with keeping things secret so... his women didn’t survive the encounters. What’s in that box is all that’s left of them. We used it to identify them and inform their next of kin.”

"Christ...” I whispered, looking away in disgust. “You should bury that you know. Those are human remains.” 

I paused, nausea rising in my throat. “Mingfei, I think you were right. I shouldn’t have come here.” I spun on my heel, going back the way I came. “I’ll wait for you guys out front.”

Mingfei nodded, solemn.

“Go with her.” Nono said to Johann. “Don’t touch anything on the shelves.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurred

I looked at Johann reproachfully, once he was next to me. “Why do you say ‘yes ma’am’ like you’re twelve?”

Johann’s eyes shifted, bewildered.

I sighed. “Never mind.”

We made our way back to the front of the warehouse where Chisei’s trench coat hung. I stood in silence for a moment. I needed to do something to get rid of the emotions I was feeling. Johann Chu carefully avoided my gaze until I got his attention. “Hey.”

He raised his eyes to mine, hesitant to meet them. 

“You know how to swordfight, right? Here, take the replica sword and lets do Shohatto drills!” I said. It was both an invitation and a demand. I didn’t want to burst into tears again. I wanted to be done crying.

I remembered something Johann had told me while we were in China preparing for our second ‘official’ wedding to allow his mother to participate in a ceremony.

He told me he was looked down on in elementary school because his mother had taken custody of him in the divorce. Everyone in class knew his father wasn’t his real father. His real father was a lowly chauffeur. They said he only got to go to this private elementary school because his mother was pretty, that the only reason his mother was married to his stepdad was because she was pretty.

The ringleader of this group of bullies was a karate black belt, the youngest blackbelt in China. Because his dragonblood wasn’t awake yet, Chu Zihang couldn’t defeat him.

But Zihang went to the Children’s Palace to train and soon had a black belt himself. He did it in three years, but not because he was a genius. At that point he was still just an ordinary child. He was just incredibly driven to beat that bully before they graduated from elementary school.

Before the graduation ceremony, Zihang challenged him and completely tore him to pieces. He had studied the bully and deliberately trained to counteract his strengths. He’d rehearsed the fight, according to him, ten thousand times.

The bully was like a cobra meeting a mongoose. No matter what he did, it didn’t work on Zihang. But Zihang’s every strike landed with full force!

Now that I thought about it, Johann had changed very little when it came to his core personality. He was straight as an arrow and once locked onto his target he would never let go!

He walked over to the trench coat and I watched him carefully. He glanced up at the headless dummy as though he were asking permission. Then he took the sword, still sheathed, from the model

He nodded seriously to me and my heart lifted. When it came to training, this Johann and the Johann I loved had no differences between them.

Johann and I stood a distance from each other, side by side.

“Shohatto.” I said.

We bowed in unison and then drew the swords in unison.

Shohatto was the most basic samurai drill. These drills had all the essentials of fighting: a draw, a cut, and defensive positions, finalized by sheathing the sword and bowing after each series of actions. Each drill was made facing a different direction.

The goal was simplicity, efficiency, and precision in footwork and motion.

If you had put up a mirror, the reflection couldn’t have followed our movements closer than we followed each other’s. I watched him in my peripheral vision. He was no longer a phantom in my mind. This was the sword drill he’d learned when he was young. He’d passed it down to me and now I was performing it with his young self.

Once again, I felt a strange sense of privilege for the opportunity.

We went through all the standing drills and then transitioned to the kneeling drills. 

My voice murmured. “Shohatto.” 

This was a little bit trickier because it required balance and Ru’Yi was a large sleeping stone of a baby attached to my back, but with my core strength intact I was still able to stand from the kneeling position and kneel from a standing position despite the tension in my back and legs to keep balance.

Johann had the drills down to pinpoint accuracy. Of course, he trained every day, and maybe he had gotten to a very high level by fifteen. But he was no longer looking at me. His eyes were straight forward with a glazed over look.

He was performing from muscle memory. 

Like a person who daydreams while driving, he was performing these complicated motions, but his mind was elsewhere.

At the end of the final kneeling drill, we faced each other on our knees, our swords in front of us. I wasn’t sure who I was looking at, my Johann or the 15 year old Johann. 

I couldn’t ask him.

We placed our hands on the ground in front of us and bowed.

[yuckitup-jwd]

Historical people answer the question - Why did the chicken cross the road?

Douglas Adams: Forty-Two

Earnest Angsley: To be HAYELED! in the name o'Jayeeezus!

Marcus Antonius: The evil that chickens do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.

Any Philosophy 101 Professor: Why not?

Any Calculus Professor: The road, if expressed in the form (y2-y1)/(x2-x1) is approximate for cases where lim(y2-y1)/(x2-x1) as (x2-x1) -> 0, is represented by the derivative, or rate of change, of the road with respect to the chicken, such that the value of the chicken may be assumed equal to the value of (y2-y1)/(x2-x1), for small values of roads.

Jane Austen: Because it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single chicken, being posessed of a good fortune and presented with a good road, must be desirous of crossing.

Aristotle: To actualize its potential.

Neil Armstrong: One small step for chickenkind, one giant leap for poultry.

Arthur, King of the Britons: What do you mean? African or European chickens?

Paul Atreidies: What name have you for the chicken shaped stain upon your road? That shall be the name that you shall call me!

Lord Baden-Powell: Because as a Chicken Scout, it needed the Road-Crossing Merit Badge.

Bilbo Baggins: Oh what I wouldn't give to back in my nice, warm Hobbit-hole! I hope I never have to lay eyes on such a thing as that chicken again!

Baldrick: It had a cunning plan.

The Band: To take a load off....

The Bandit, in The Treasure of The Sierra Madre: "Chickens? Chickens? We don't need no stinkin' chickens!"

Clive Barker: He was drawn to the road, and he didn't so much cross the road as the road crossed him. And once across, the chicken entered into a frightening void, filled only with the screams of a thousand agonized souls. The hands of doom reached out of the blackness, strangling the chicken, smothering him, suffocating him. He could not escape, as no one who crosses the road can escape. He was now a prisoner of the Cenobytes, doomed to an eternity of pain.

Roseanne Barr: Urrrrrp. What chicken?

The Beatles: To be free as a bird!

Lavrenti Beria (ex-head of the KGB): This is a State Secret -- we have informants everywhere.

Bill The Cat Ack. Thpppbt

Blackadder: Queenie: Because I told it to. Percy: To acquire a hunk of purest green Lord Flasheart: To DOOOOOOOOO IT!

Lucien Bouchard: So that it could be SEPARATE!

Ben Bova: To be reunited with beautiful grey-eyed Athena, the woman he has loved for all of time

Brisco (Law and Order): For A Bagel

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, Bruce and Bruce: To grab a Fosters and get away from the poofters!

Buddha: If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken-nature.

Archie Bunker: I don't care what them there chickens do, as long as they stay on THEIR side of the street!

Bugs Bunny: What's up, cluck?

Robert Burns: Fair Fa Your Honest Sonsie Face Great Chieftain O' The Chicken Race The blackened road 'ahind ye said Ye best run quick ere ye be deid!

George Bush: If it did it was out of the loop

George Bush: (again) It could see the thousand points of headlights....

Rhett Butler: Frankly my dear, it didn't give a damn!

C3PO (1): Sir, may I remind you that I am fluent in 6,000,000 forms of communication and this chicken has not... shutting up, sir.

C3PO (2): Sir, according to my calculations, the odds of a chicken successfully navigating a road are 3,750 to 1 against.

Caesar: It came, it saw, it crossed.

Joseph Campbell: In primitive cultures, we can find many such examples of the chicken motif that cannot be dismissed as mere coincidence. For instance, I am reminded of an old Navajo legend in which a buffalo crosses a stream to "come" to the other side -- an obvious negative language devised to prepare tribesmen for a transcendental experience. Similarly, the Hindus believe in savanaya, or a sacred cow that leaps over a chasm on Thursdays. Through metaphorical interpretation, we are led to realize that all examples suggest an attainable higher state of consciousness like that of Nietzsche's ubermench, or superman, as outlined in his novel "Thus Spoke Zarathustra."

Albert Camus: Seeing that an indifferent world lied on all sides of the road, the chicken knew it would be absurd not too cross, and for that moment, the chicken knew what it was to really be alive. It was if the bird had been asleep its entirely up until this choice was put before him. So, with a newfound determination and a smile, the chicken valiently crossed the road only to be put out of its mercy by an eighteen wheeler.

Candide: To cultivate its garden.

Johnny Carson: Let me tell you, it was so cold at that farm... Ed McMahon: How cold was it? Johnny Carson: It was so cold, that the chickens were mugging the sheep to get wool for sweaters!

Raymond Chandler: Across these mean streets a chicken must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete chicken and a common chicken and yet an unusual chicken. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a chicken of honor - by instinct, by inevitability, withough thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best chicken in his world and a good enough chicken for any world.

Charlie X: Because it didn't want to STAY....STAY....STAY....STAY....STAY...

Cheech (or Chong): Just to be there, man.

The Chicken: I am crossing the road to block traffic as a protest against ..." (thump).

Commander Chikotay: I'm not sure but I can find out. That chicken is my animal spirit guide.

Noam Chomsky: To manufacture consent

Tom Clancy: The Mark 84 gargleblaster that the chicken carried, at the heart of which was an inferior ex-Soviet excimer laser system, had insufficient range to allow the chicken to carry out its mission from this side of the road.

John Cleese From Fawlty Towers: Manuel from Barcelona: "Que?" Basil: "You know, a chicken crossing the road...." Manuel: "Que?" Basil: [looking it up in a dictionary], "Un Pollo..." Manuel: interrupting, "No, No we out of chicken.." * WHAP!!*

John Cleese: Because it was very silly.

John Cleese: (again) This isn't a chicken license, you know! It's a dog license with the word "Dog" crossed out and "Chicken" written in in crayon.

John Cleese: (#3) This Chicken is no more. It has ceased to function. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. It's a stiff. If it wasn't nailed to the road it'd be pushing up daisies. It's snuffed it. It's metabolic processes are now history. It's bleeding demised. It's rung down the curtain, shuffled off the mortal coil and joined the bleeding Choir Invisible. This is an Ex-Chicken.

Bill Clinton: What?

Bill Clinton (again): The chicken was persuaded to cross the road by the Democratic congress. It is now returning to the middle of the road

Joseph Conrad: Mistah Chicken, he dead.

John Constantine: Because it'd made a bollocks of things over on this side of the road and figured it'd better get out right quick.

Alastair Cooke: Good Evening, and welcome to Masterpiece Theatre. Tonight, we present the epic British drama "How The Chicken Went," based on the 1843 novel by Herbert T. Poultry, and adapted for the screen by Joanna Drumstick. Starring Susan Hampshire as the Chicken, and Anthony Hopkins as the evil and unrepentant diner, Borstrom, this elegant period piece explores the mores and morality of a society in which ordinary chickens had to face their destiny of crossing the road to meet their fate at the hands of the monied upper classes, regardless of their own ambitions or desires...

Shiela Copps (Deputy Prime Minister of Canada): BECAUSE I SCREAMED AT IT REAL LOUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sheila Copps: Okay, I know that the chicken promised it would cross the road if the Liberals failed to eliminate the GST, but it was a stupid promise to make and the chicken deeply regrets ever making it. However, the chicken will not be crossing the road because to do so would cost tax payers $500,000.

Sheila Copps (a few days later): Alright! Alright! The chicken will cross the road like it promised. But it'll be right back again. Now leave me alone.

Howard Cosell: It may very well have been one of the most astonishing events to grace the annals of history. An historic, unprecendented avian biped with the temerity to attempt such an herculean achievement formerly relegated to homo sapien pedestrians is truly a remarkable occurrence.

Jacques Ives Cousteau: Zee cheecken, unaware of zee dangare beehind heem, crosses zee street. Weezout warning, zee Porsche strikes, and zee balance of zee nature ees maintained.

Stephen R. Covey: When the chicken and the road can work together for the win-win, the result is synergy!

Jean Cretien, Prime Minister of Canada: "It wasn't a chicken, you know, it was an Inuit carving of a loon. But the RCMP should have been there anyway..."

Aleister Crowley: Because it was its True Will to do so.

Salvador Dali: The Fish.

Stephanie Daniels: It was the turtle's day off.

Darwin: It was the logical next step after coming down from the trees.

Commander Data: I do not know. Although I have compared all of my 437 billion data points relating to chickens and roads, there is no possitive correlation between the two.

W. Edwards Demming: But is one chicken crossing one road of statistical importance? Only once we have established an historical baseline of chickens with respect to roads, with calculated upper and lower control limits, can we make that determination.

Arthur Dent: Are you sure the chicken is from Beetelgeuse, and not from Gilford after all?

Jacques Derrida: Any number of contending discourses may be discovered within the act of the chicken crossing the road, and each interpretation is equally valid as the authorial intent can never be discerned, because structuralism is DEAD, DAMMIT, DEAD!

Rene Descartes: It had sufficient reason to believe it was dreaming anyway.

Descartes (again): The chicken was merely a machine and was crossing due to the deterministic nature of the universe.

Emily Dickinson: Because it could not stop for death.

Bob Dole: Do you know that before that chicken had gotten across the road, its cellular phone was ringing and there was a lawyer on the other end asking if it would like to sue the city for not putting up a traffic light.

Bob Dylan: How many roads must a chicken travel down, before they call him a man?

E.T.: Chicken, phone home

Ecclesiastes (1): For every fowl, there is a season. A time for garlic, a time for sage...

Ecclesiastes (2): This bird is meaningless.

Wyatt Earp: Well, chicken, are you gonna do something, or just stand there and bleed?

Eeyore: If it did. Which I doubt. Not that it matters.

Albert Einstein: Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road crossed the chicken depends on your frame of reference.

T.S. Eliot: It's not that they cross, but that they cross like chickens.

Harlan Ellison: Because he had no beak and must scream.

Emergency Medical Holographic Doctor on U.S.S. Voyager: Maybe it was trying to state the nature of a medical emergency.

Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn't cross the road; it transcended it.

Epicurus: For fun.

Basil Fawlty: Oh, don't mind that chicken. It's from Barcelona.

Sybil Fawlty: BASIL! Why is there a CHICKEN in my hotel?

Dr. Johnny Fever: To escape from the Phone Cops!

Fiver (from Watership Down): Don't you see it? The sky has turned to blood, the field has turned to fire... THE CHICKENS! DON'T YOU SEE THE CHICKENS?

Gerald R. Ford: It probably fell from an airplane and couldn't stop its forward momentum.

Sigmund Freud: The chicken obviously was female and obviously interpreted the pole on which the crosswalk sign was mounted as a phallic symbol of which she was envious, selbstverstaendlich.

Robert Frost: To cross the road less traveled by.

Barney Fyfe: Now Andy, let me tell you a thing or two about chickens. Chickens cross roads in those other counties, but not here in Mayberry. No chicken crosses no roads in Mayberry without Deputy Fyfe knowing about it!

Gandalf: O chicken, do not meddle in the affairs of roads, for you are tasty and good with barbecue sauce.

Bill Gates: For the money

Frank Bunker Gilbereth: To minimize its therbligs

Jim Gillis: The chicken crossed the road to show the gophers it could be done.

Newt Gingrich: To get to the RIGHT side of the road.

Newt Gingrich (again): The chicken had to cross the road, because, bogged down by the incredible debt burden, it was no longer able to fly.

Newt Gingrich (III): It was safety pinned to one of those damn punk rockers!

Ira Glasser (ACLU): The chicken maintains an absolute privacy interest in information as to whether or why he or she may have perambulated the thoroughfare.

Johann Wolfgang v. Goethe: The eternal hen-principle made it do it.

Sir Charles Grandiose: As surely as the golden hairs turn to silver, as surely as the sands drift silently through the slender neck of the hourglass, the last sunny days of summer flee soundlessly under autumn's chilly embrace. And with those last days of that warmest and most joyful of seasons, left the road's edge the sprightliest young chicken ever a Baronet did see

Hercules Gryptyppe-Thynne, (All-around Public-School Cad): That's not a chicken! It's a clever disguise, inside of which is Count Jim "Thighs" Moriarity.....

Gary Gygax: Because I rolled a 64 on the "Chicken Random Behaviors" chart on page 497 of the Dungeon Master's Guide.

Hamlet: Because 'tis better to suffer in the mind the slings and arrows of outrageous road maintenance than to take arms against a sea of oncoming vehicles.

Thomas Hardy: The road was black, the sky was white (and so were the feathers) as the bright red mark on the top of the chicken's head gleamed in the twilight. It was a pure chicken and it was doomed.

Mike Harris, (Premier of Ontario): Like evrything else in this province, it was facing the axe.

Paul Harvey: And now... page two... a chicken... attempts to cross... the street... yes... the street... and is... run down by a... Buick! The Buick Roadmaster with it's powerful perfomance and elegant style! Yes... that poor chicken... hit by the Buick... it's true... it's... true... and speaking of true... your local True Value Hardware Store...

Hegel: Only through the synthesis of the dialectical chicken and road could the spirit transcend the experience of crossing.

Robert Heinlein: Because with the freedom the chicken was given, it was the chicken's responsibility to do so.

Robert Heinlein (again): The more widely dispersed chickens are throughout the Universe, the better the long-term prospects for the survival of the chicken species.

Werner Heisenberg: We are not sure which side of the road the chicken was on, but it was moving very fast.

Ernest Hemingway: To die. In the rain.

Hippocrates: Because of an excess of light pink gooey stuff in its pancreas.

Doug Hofstadter: To seek explication of the correspondence between appearance and essence through the mapping of the external road-object onto the internal road-concept.

Sherlock Holmes: It crossed the road because it was going to catch a train at Victoria Station at 3:15, to Edinburgh. And how did I know that? Observe, Watson, the patina of dust on the chicken's feathers, which indicates that it had been spending time in a library, reading about Scotland. And observe also that it was humming "Bonnie Lassie" as it waited to cross. Finally, and most important, observe the train ticket marked Edinburgh, stuffed under one wing, and the fact that Victoria station was where the chicken crossed the street, and finally that the only train to Edinburgh this afternoon is the 3:15....

David Hume: Out of custom and habit.

Saddam Hussein: This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.

Lee Iacocca: It found a better car, which was on the other side of the road.

Dr. Jack Van Impe: Well you see, here's the really exciting part, if we were to look at Revelation 17:3 we will see that the Whore of Babylon rides on a scarlet beast. A scarlet beast! What this means is a Rhode Island Red. And the truly glorious thing is that this beast, this Rhode Island Red, this CHICKEN has crossed the road EXACTLY as was prophesized in the Bible and this is all a sign, Revelation 17:3, that we're living in the End Time. Hallelujah! And if you would like more information on the significance of this chicken crossing the road as all part of God's great plan then send me $50 and you will recieve this set of video tapes along with a copy of my recent book "Chickens: fowl beast, or foul beast?".

John Paul Jones: It has not yet begun to cross!

Carl Jung: The confluence of events in the cultural gesalt necessitated that individual chickens cross roads at this historical juncture, and therefore synchronicitously brought such occurrences into being.

Franz Kafka: Dieter, now in the form of a chicken, was running from the government's torture machine. The machine, an instrument of death, slowly obliterated the souls of its victims. Dieter was alone. He was running for his life, his insignificant life.

Immanuel Kant: The pure transcendental concept of the road, having been deduced a priori and without dependence on intuitions, is given in the mode of the chicken as an end in itself, while crossing the road as a hypothetical imperative, namely, as acting towards some end allowed by Reason.

Casey Kasem: And now here's a hot new number from a hot young band whose drummer was so tragically killed in a freeway accident, it's The Hen House Flock singing "When You Gonna Crow?" hitting the charts at number 23!

JFK: The chicken chose to cross the road in this decade not because it was easy, but because it was hard.

Obi Wan Kenobi: To follow old obi wan on some damn fool idealistic crusade.

Jack Kerouac: The chicken hipster, high on tea and the soul groves of Charlie (the bird) Parker, strolled aimlessly on the road looking for his dharma.

Soren Kierkegaard: The chicken is dead. The road is nothing.

Colonel Kilgore: "I love the smell of chickens in the morning"

Martin Luther King: It had a dream.

James Tiberius Kirk: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

Ralph Klein: Because we gave it a one-way bus ticket to B.C.

Mark Knophler: How come Chickens got Industrial Disease?

Mark Lane: There is new, irrefutable evidence that the chicken did not act alone.

Gary Larson: Don't ask me. I am retired. Stan Laurel: I'm sorry, Ollie. It escaped when I opened the run.

Timothy Leary: Because that's the only kind of trip the Establishment would let it take.

John Le Carre: Because it knew, at the core of its being where none could ever reach, that its only course of action now that its cover was blown wide open was to try and slip away into the grey, foggy, bleak evening before Smiley came, accompanied by his silent shadow Peter Guillam, asking questions for which there could never be answers.

Dr. Hannibal Lector: So I could eat its liver, with some fava beans and a nice chianti .......thththththththth.

Leda: Are you sure it wasn't Zeus dressed up as a chicken? He's into that kind of thing, you know.

Foghorn Leghorn: To get to that damn Dawg, Boah!

Gottfried Von Leibniz: In this best possible world, the road was made for it to cross.

Vladimir Lenin: It is not the chicken's road. It is the PEOPLE'S road!

David Letterman: And the No. 1 reason - fricasee!

Rush Limbaugh: Beacuse of those damn bleeding heart liberals, trying to save one stupid bird while thousands of jobs are being lost. Dave Lister: Because of the smegging space corps directives.

Any Late Evening News Anchor: The chicken crosses the road. Film at 11:00.

Abraham Lincoln: Fourscore and seven eggs ago, our forefeathers...

Logan (Law and Order): To buy a plaid tie

Jack London: To answer the call of the wild.

H.P. Lovecraft: To futilely attempt escape from the dark powers which even then pursued it, hungering after the stuff of its soul!

George Lucas: Because the Force was with it.

Machiavelli: So that its subjects will view it with admiration, as a chicken which has the daring and courage to boldly cross the road, but also with fear, for whom among them has the strength to contend with such a paragon of avian virtue? In such a manner is the princely chicken's dominion maintained.

Marvin (the paranoid android): "Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and you ask me why the chicken crossed the road? I could tell you, but I really don't think it's worth while."

Marvin the Paranoid Android: Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and what do they ask me? Why did the chicken cross the road? As if their pathetic cerebelums could even comprehend my answer. Chickens, don't talk to me about chickens... they're SO depressing.

Karl Marx: It was a historical inevitability.

Karl Marx (again): To escape the bourgeois middle-class struggle.

Groucho Marx: Chicken? What's all this talk about chicken? Why, I had an uncle who thought he was a chicken. My aunt almost divorced him, but we needed the eggs.

Groucho Marx (again): This morning I shot a chicken in my pyjamas -- and lemme tell ya, that chicken ran out of my pyjamas in a second!

Jackie Mason: Whaddaya want, it should just stand there?

Perry Mason: Cross the road you say? But how can you be sure? No one else would have known the chicken crossed the road except for the real killer!

Dr. McCoy: How should I know? Damnit Jim, I'm a Doctor not an ornithologist!

Marshall McLuhan: The Road is the Medium. The chicken is the Message!

Gregor Mendel: To get various strains of roads.

A.A. Milne: I imagine that if I thought very hard I shouold come up with a reason. (also applicable to Winnie the Pooh)

John Milton: To justify the ways of God to men.

Indigo Montoya: It too pursues a man with six fingers on his left hand.

Michael Moriarity: To annoy Janet Reno.

Jim Morrison: To break on thruough to the other side, I am the chicken king

Ralph Nader: A chicken on a road is unsafe at any speed

Sir Isaac Newton: Chickens at rest tend to stay at rest. Chickens in motion tend to cross the road.

Jack Nicholson: 'Cause it (censored) wanted to. That's the (censored) reason.

Nietzsche: Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.

Col. Oliver North: I do not recall any such events. I had no knowledge of these occurrences.

Peter Norton: It was a virus and it saw me coming...

Richard Nixon: That part of our conversation was accidentally erased.

George Orwell: Because Big Brother was watching to make sure that it did cross the road, although in its heart, the chicken never did.

Thomas Paine: Out of common sense.

Michael Palin: Nobody expects the banished inky chicken!

Emporer Palpatine: Foolish chicken! Only now, at the end, do you see the head-lights!

Dorothy Parker: Travel, trouble, music, art / A kiss, a frock, a rhyme / The chicken never said they fed its heart / But still they pass its time.

Patsy: Oh, F*&% the chicken. Run it over and lets have a drink.

Gen. George S. Patton: To get those yellow bellied chickens outta here.

General George S. Patton (again): The way to win a war is not to cross a road for you country. The way to win a war is to make some OTHER poor chicken cross a road for HIS COUNTRY!

Wolfgang Pauli: There already was a chicken on the other side of the road.

Frank Perdue: How the heck do I know? Do I look like a chicken to you -- don't answer that.

Marlin Perkins, on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom: Watch, as the chicken mauls Jim yet again...

H. Ross Perot: I'm crossing. I'm not crossing....

H. Ross Perot2: Crossing the road is that chickens primary concern! PRIMARY concern!

H. Ross Perot3: Chickens and roads, I'll tell ya what it means! It means 4 trillion dollars of dafficit, it means the end of our infrastructure, it means... look at this chart!

H. Ross Perot4: Let me tell ya, it's all about NAFTA. This chicken represents your job, and this road represents the Mexican border...

Jean-Luc Picard: To see what's out there.

Jean-Luc Picard (again): Because it's shields were down and it had no other options left...

Piglet: Because ch-ch-chickens are such very s-s-s-small animals.

Plato: For the greater good.

Edgar Allan Poe: Quoth the chicken,"Nevermore!"

Emily Post: When a chicken is confronted with a road, it is only proper for the chicken to stand erect, turn to face the road, look both ways and cross... remembering to send a sincere thank you letter within one month of the event.

Elvis Presley: You aint nothin' but a chicken, crossin' all the roads!

Psalms: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no road!

Pyrrho the Skeptic: What Road?

Monty Python: For Something Completely Different

Dan Quayle: "chicken" C-H-I-K-E-N "chicken"

The Red Queen: Who cares? Off with it's head!

R2D2: beep bleep be deep birp whirrrrrrrrr!

The White Rabbit: It was late!

Ayn Rand: The chicken crossed the road in order to get away from the flock that is stifling his creativity.

Ayn Rand (again): If not for the intransigently independent vision of that first chicken, none of the other chickens would have been able to cross the road. And they condemned him for his acheivement!

Ronald Reagan: I don't recall. What was the question?

Georg Friedrich Riemann: The answer appears in Dirichlet's lectures.

Pat Riley: The chicken crossed the lane in less than 3 seconds, so a "fowl" should not have been called.

Rimmer: Aliens!!!

General Jack D. Ripper: To maintain the purity of its precious bodily fluids.

Geraldo Rivera: Stay tuned as a panel of chickens reveals the shocking truth.

Tom Robbins: Well you see, that chicken was a special chicken who was a descendent of a parrot family that once built pyramids for tourist pharohs. This chicken liked the other side of the road whose shamanic whispers beckoned Anastasia, the parrot, like the popped cherry of a ritually consumated white wedding. That's the meaning of it all, baby!

Oral Roberts: He couldn't raise the $10,000,000.00 so God called him home.

Oral Roberts (again): And I said to the chicken: "Put your claw on the screen! Put your claw on the screen, upon the hand of Brother Oral, and you shall be healed. Make a love offering of $50 or more, and then touch the screen. And that chicken did put his claw on the screen. And the power of God, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, flowed through me and out through that television set, and that chicken was healed *PRAISE GOD!*. And then that chicken, stricken for so many months, rose up and walked across the road. But, since he had forgotten his love offering, God never warned him about the 30 ton semi barreling down on the crosswalk...."

Carl Sagan: To see the billions and billions of stars.

Col. Saunders: It Ran, Suh! I offered it a coating of 11 herbs and spices and it ran, Suh! So I shot it, Suh, shot it while it was trying to escape, suh!

Sappho: For the touch of your skin, the sweetness of your lips..

Jean-Paul Sartre: In order to act in good faith and be true to itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.

Arnold Schwarzenegger: It was going back...

Mr. Scott: 'Cos ma wee transporter beam was na functioning properly. Ah canna work miracles, Captain, wi' no dilithium crystals left to speak of!

Agent Scully: There simply must be a rational, scientific explanation. Chickens don't just "cross roads"

Neddy Seagoon: WhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatWHAT?

William Shakespeare:

1: This is the road of chicken's discontent, Made ignoble abbatoir by this half-ton truck... (Richard II)

2: Bring me no more reports, let them fly all; 'Til a chicken remove to other side of road I cannot taint with fear. What is this chicken? Was he not born of hen? The spirits that know All fowl consequences have pronounced me thus: "Fear not, MacNugget; no chicken that's born of hen Shall e'er lay beak upon thee." (Macbeth)

3: If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: if the crossing Could scoot across the dotted line, and catch, Beyond passing car, sidewalk; that but these feathers Might be the be-all and end-all here, But here, at this corner of street and avenue, We'd cross at the light to come. (Macbeth)

4: To cross, or not to cross? That is the question, Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The wheels and axles of the city's mass transit Or to take flight against a sea of motorists And by opposing, end me? To cross, to peep No more! And by that peep to say we end The chickhood and the thousand fender-shocks That chicken is heir to. 'Tis a perambulation Devoutly to be wish'd. (Hamlet)

Homer Simpson: ohhhhhhhh Chicken.....

Bart Simpson: It's outta here, man!

Mrs. Slocum: Now look what you've done, there's chicken all over my pussy!

Kenneth Starr: In view of President Clinton's dealings with the Tyson Poultry Company, the matter of the chicken crossing the road is under investigation for its possible connection with the Whitewater affair.

George Steinbrenner: Because I offered him a $4 million contract.

George Steinbrenner2: Because I fired him!

George Steinbrenner3: Because he's now my new manager.

George Steinbrenner4: Because I fired him again!

Dr. Suess: See the end of this document for the full Dr. Suess version.

Sisyphus: Was it pushing a rock, too?

B.F. Skinner: Because the external influences which had pervaded its sensorium from birth had caused it to develop in such a fashion that it would tend to cross roads, even while believing these actions to be of its own free will.

Mr. Spock: It was not logical for the chicken to do so, but I have frequently observed that the behaviour of chickens is not logical

E.E. (Doc) Smith: Your humble narrator can barely do justice to this climactic event that rent asunder the fundamental ether of space itself, as the chicken, embodying all that is good and hard and straight and keen in the Avain world, fearlessly approached, bridged, and conquered the road for Civilization.

Socrates: To pick up some hemlock at the corner druggist.

The Sphinx: You tell me.

Joseph Stalin: It was clearly a conspiracy. Take all the chickens out and shoot them. At Once!

John Steinbeck: The road baked in the relentless summer sun as the chicken, looking about, began to cross. It stopped occaisionally to peck at a grass seed that had become lodged in a crevice in the cracked macadam. The chicken reached the other side, then began making his way to the Salinas, which lay muddy and turgid in the July afternoon, all the while thinking of the cool shade by the river and how good the can of beans in his bedroll would taste tonight.

Ben Stone (Law and Order): Because the defendant made it, sir.

Oliver Stone: He went back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the..

Dr. Strangelove: Because it could not afford to be caught on the wrong side of the road-side gap.

John Sununu: The Air Force was only too happy to provide the transportation, so quite understandably the chicken availed himself of the opportunity.

Grand Moff Tarkin: Fear will keep the chickens in line, fear of this thoroughfare!

Tim "The Toolman" Taylor: This here bird'll cross that road in no time flat, now that I've made a few "special modifications! We've added the Binford 7100 Multi-Purpose power unit, which I've souped up by adding a United Aircraft PT-6 jet engine - Urrgh urrgh urrgh! Heidi, bring out the chicken, please....

Alfred, Lord Tennyson: So that it could sail beyond the sunset.

Old Testament: And rooster and hen were married. And rooster did begat chicken. And chicken did cross the road.

New Testament: He among you who has not crossed roads, let him cast the first egg!

Margaret Thatcher: There was simply no alternative!

Theodoric of York, the Medievil Barber: Because of an imbalance of bodily humors caused by an elf or small toad living in the chicken's stomach. What this fowl needs is a good bleeding. Dylan Thomas: To not go (sic) gentle into that good night.

Hunter S. Thompson: Why the &*%$#@ not?

Henry David Thoreau: To live deliberately ... and suck all the marrow out of life.

Tiggr: Because that's what chickens do best!

Tiggr: (again) That's the wonderful thing about Chickens, Chasing Chickens is FUN FUN FUN, And the Wonderful thing about Chickens Is that when crossing streets they RUN!

Tim, the Enchanter: It's got wings that... and a beak that... good god man, look at the bones!

Brian Tobin (new premier of Newfoundland): It followed the cod....

J.R.R. Tolkein: The chicken, sunlight coruscating off its radiant yellow- white coat of feathers, approached the dark, sullen asphalt road and scrutinized it intently with its obsidian-black eyes. Every detail of the thoroughfare leapt into blinding focus: the rough texture of the surface, over which count- less tires had worked their relentless tread through the ages; the innumerable fragments of stone embedded within the lugubrious mass, perhaps quarried from the great pits where the Sons of Man labored not far from here; the dull black asphalt itself, exuding those waves of heat which distort the sight and bring weakness to the body; the other attributes of the great highway too numerous to give name.

Thomas de Torquemada: Give me ten minutes with the chicken and I'll find out.

Anthony Trollope: Why, to avoid Mrs. Proudy and Mr. Slope, of course.

Mark Twain: The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.

Darth Vader: Because it could not resist the power of the Dark Side.

George Washington: I cannot tell a lie. I was going to chop it with my little axe, so it crossed the road.

Mae West: 'Cause I invited it to come up and see me sometime.

Jerry White: Why does a chicken cross the road only half-way? So she can lay it on the line.

Walt Whitman: To cluck the song of itself.

Robert Anton Wilson: Because agents of the Ancient Illuminated Roosters of Cooperia were controlling it with their Orbital Mind-Control Lasers as part of their master plan to take over the world's egg production.

Major Charles Emerson Winchester, the Third: What do you two-bit quacks know about chickens? Did you learn about them in medical school, or did you just read the comic book?

Ludwig Wittgenstein: The possibility of "crossing" was encoded into the objects "chicken" and "road," and circumstances came into being which caused the actualization of this potential occurrence.

Wittgenstein #2: There are indeed things that cannot be put into words. They make themselves manifest. They are what is mystical.

Wittgenstein #3: What we cannot explain we must pass over in silence.

Tom Wolfe: Kesey, muscles rippling under his shirt, a mysterious smile on his face, surrounded by the Merry Pranksters, placed the chicken at the road's edge. The chicken paused at the edge of the road, looking this way and that, and then rending the air with a tremendous, "ba-BAAWWWWKKK!" bolted across the road, its disheveled wings flapping uselessly about, leaving a trail of feathers and dander that, whenever two-ton chromium steel, 300 horsepower tail-finned symbols of Detroit's and America's supremacy passed, would swirl in a miniature version of a cyclone like the ones Mr. and Mrs. America see on the TV news every evening when he's come home from work and she's setting the table for dinner, both only half paying attention to the cyclones that devastate midwestern cow towns on sweltering summer afternoons. And the heat, dander, tornados, asphalt, tail-fins and the sweat of Mr. and Mrs. America as they move mechanically in their daily routine like the figurines in one of those huge medieval clocks on some cathedral in some European town, moving in the same way, every hour on the hour, it was all summed up by the "ba-BAAWWWWKKK!" of a scampering chicken accompanied by the "skritch, skritch" of its feet.

William Wordsworth: To have something to recollect in tranquility.

Mr. Worf: I do not know, Klingon chickens do NOT cross the road.

Molly Yard: It was a hen!

Yoda: Crossing the road makes not a chicken great

Henny Youngman: Take this chicken ... please.

Zeno of Elea: To prove it could never reach the other side.

STAR TREK CHICKENS CROSS THE ROAD TOO

Chakotay: Whatever its reason, whatever its goals, we should respect its right to cross the road and seek its own spiritual awareness.

Neelix: Actually, Captain, I'm not really familiar with the chickens in this system. But--if you can catch it, I can cook it.

Riker: I don't know why, but I do know how: with pleasure, sir.

Garak: To get to the other side? Of course not! Do you realize how ridiculous that is? I'm sure it was a simple matter of its farmer expelling it from the coop for...embezzling eggs.

Odo: I don't have the slightest idea--and I don't particularly care...but then, I've never understood you ornithoids' need to engage in such pointless behavior.

Quark: Now really, why would I have bribed him to do it so I could make a tidy profit in the station pool? Besides, all I know is that chicken tastes just like tube grubs.

Q: Wouldn't you like to know? Too bad your puny human brain wouldn't be able to comprehend the answer.

O'Brien: Well, it's nothing a good pint or two won't fix.

Uhura: Shall I open hailing frequencies so you can ask it, sir?

V'Ger: To join with the Creator.

Sulu: To get back to San Franciso; it was born there.

Troi: It was running...running away from...no, escaping...oh, Captain, it was fleeing from such -pain-!

Kira: I bet those damn Cardassians were after it!

Picard: Dammit, that's not for us to answer! It's his fundamental right as a sentient being to determine the time and manner by which he travels towards his goals!

Dr. Bashir: I suppose it wanted to play some darts.

The Grand Nagus: Stupid chicken! You don't cross the road all at once! You sneak across it quietly, without anyone noticing! (Inconceivable!)

Sisko: I don't care -why- it was crossing the road! All I want to know is -why- it left the coop! So it wanted to "get to the other side"--there is only -so far- that my tolerance will go!

Barclay: Uh, chicken?!! Where?!!! C-c-c-ommander, did I ever mention my problem with small feathered things?

Gul Dukat: Well, that's a very interesting question...I'm sure we can work out some kind of arrangement to obtain that information that will be to everyone's satisfaction.

The Borg: Crossing the road is irrelevant. It will be assimilated.

Hugh the Borg: Maybe it wanted to be my friend.

Geordi: Well, wherever it's going, I'm sure it'll be there in an hour or two--but any later, and it'll be absolutely impossible for it to make it.

Jake: To check out the babe that just came off that transport!

Gene Roddenberry: To boldly go where no chicken had gone before.

Kes: It was remembering back to the times when its ancestors crossed roads all the time! They lost those abilities because they stopped using them!

Wesley: I'm not sure, but I can figure it out if I reroute these systems and reconfigure the warp field and run a complete internal whootchacallit on the computers and...

B'Elanna: I'm sure it felt suffocated by all the [BEEP] regulations of [BEEP] Starfleet and just couldn't stand it any longer!

Worf: I don't know. KLINGON chickens do NOT cross roads.

Spock: Fasincating, Captain, it seems driven by a beam of pure energy.

HoloDoc: How should I know? No one tells me anything around here! I didn't even know we added chickens to the crew! All I know is that it would have been nice, BEFORE the chicken went off to the cross the road, if it had remembered to turn me off!

Data: The chicken, in observing that it was on the opposite side of the 20th century Terran paved roadway, was aware that its immediate goal should have been to traverse the distance without interception by an kind of combustion-propelled personal transport vehicle, but I am unclear as to why any kind of domesticated fowl should desire to perambulate upon a conveyance normally reserved for the usage of...yes, sir.

Sarek: Sometimes my logic fails me where chickens are concerned.

Dax: To get to the other side. Kurzon might have disagreed with me, Tobin I'm sure wouldn't have had a clue,and then there's...

Tuvok: That's not a question we'd prefer to hear from a senior officer. It makes the junior officers nervous.

Dr. Crusher: Maybe since he couldn't make the other side to get to him, -he- had to get to the other side....

Dr. Soran: His heart just wasn't in it. (Scenes of chicken torture with nanoprobes have been edited out.)

Scotty: Because she couldna take much morrrrrre.

Charlie X: Because it didn't want to STAY...STAY...STAY...

Kirk: You chicken bastard, you killed my son...YOU chicken BASTARD, you killed...my SON...you CHICKEN bastard....youkilledmy...son!

Bones: Dammit, I'm a doctor, not an ornithologist!

Tasha: That depends...was it fully functional?

Chekov: It must have been on its way to assist in saving my life for the billionth time..did I scream this time?

Khan: With my last breath I spit at the chicken...

Harry: I don't know, it's my first mission.

Paris: Well, I think that...say, that's a lovely shirt you're wearing.

Harvey Mudd: Chicken? I don't remember any chicken. No no no, there's been a terrible misunderstanding.

Crewman in red suit: "Captain, this chicken seems to have crossed the AAARRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Nurse Chapel: Oh, Spock, I fixed you your favorite Vulcan plomeek and chicken soup!

Lwaxana: Oh, Jean-Luc!

Janeway: Its primary goal was no doubt to get back to the Alpha Quadrant...and it probably misses its dog.

Dr. Suess:

Would you, could you cross the street On your two small chicken feet?

I would not, could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you cross it in Japan To flee Godzilla and Rodan

Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not, could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you cross the road and cluck And jump to avoid the speeding truck?

Not with a cluck to avoid a truck Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not, could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you hop across the road As though you were a garden toad?

Not across the road as though a toad Not with a cluck to avoid a truck Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Would you cross it in the night Lit by passing car headlight?

Not in the night With car headlight Not across the road As though a toad Not with a cluck To avoid a truck Not in Japan Godzilla and Rodan I would not could not cross the street On my two small chicken feet. Across the road I will not scram Even though a fowl I am.

Please dear chicken give it a try For across the road you can not fly.

Alright! Alright! I'll give it a try For it is true, chickens can't fly. Hey! It's not bad, infact it's neat! I truly love to cross the street. Across the road I LOVE to scram. I cross the road, a fowl I am.

[weilongfu]

Sentence starters, angst 10. AePete because I'm pretty sure everyone thinks that AePete relationship is so solid and that their love will never fade, but 10 for them please. Pete questioning Ae's love for him....

(Angst, 10: “Do you even still love me?”)

As part of his agreement with his father to keep Ae out of jail, Pete had packed up his things and left to live with his father. Ae had promised to wait. But three years was a long time for anyone to wait. And Ae... Ae deserved to be happy after the mess that Pete had caused. 

Pete stepped out of the airport, gaze expectant, but in his heart, Pete knew that the one he was looking for would not be there. There was only one person Pete had told about his return. 

“Tin, I’ve just arrived.” Pete scanned the host of people holding up signs. “Are you here yet?”

“I’m afraid... I had something come up. I’ve sent someone else to get you.”

Pete frowned. “That’s not like you.”

“Talking back like that isn’t like you either.”

“Three years, Tin.”

“Three years indeed! I told him to hold up a sign for you. He’s not as short as he used to be, so you should be able to see him just fine.”

The gears started to turn. “You didn’t.” Pete’s eyes scanned the field of people again, heart beating just that bit faster. “Please tell me you didn’t- Damn it. You did.” Pete finally spotted him. Ae had come to pick him up. “I hate you.”

“What’s that? Sorry, I’ve got to go! Cantaloupe says let’s do dinner once you sort yourselves out. Bye!”

-----

Ae had wordlessly taken Pete’s suitcases and lead him to his car. The first twenty minutes of their car ride were steeped in silence. Pete fiddled with his phone and Ae’s gaze was fixed on the road before them.

“Ae krab... Thank you for coming to get me.” Pete turned his phone over in his hands. “I didn’t think-”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” Ae’s voice had gotten even deeper, richer. It still made Pete’s heart flutter. Pete hated it.

“I didn’t think-”

“Do you know how much I hate that Tin of all people told me to come get you? Bad enough how I had to go to him to help my family and-”

“Tin helped your family?”

“Well if it wasn’t for your father-”

“I already said-”

“Yes, I know but-”

“Sorry and you know the reason why I left was-”

Ae covered Pete’s mouth. “Ai Koon Chai, that’s enough.” Pete nipped at Ae’s hand and Ae nearly jumped out of his skin. “Did you just-”

“You know the reason why I left.” Pete crossed his arms and huffed. “And I didn’t think you’d be waiting for me to come back.”

“What?! Have you gone crazy? Why wouldn’t I wait for you?”

“Why would you wait for me?!” Pete finally turned to look at Ae, his profile still just as manly and handsome as ever. “Do you even still love me?”

“Of course I love you! I nearly killed for you! I would still kill that damn asshole Trump for you!” Ae punched the steering wheel and stomped on the brake, jerking them to a stop on the side of the road. “Three years, I waited for you! I loved you then, I love you now!” Ae’s chest was heaving now and Pete could feel hope blooming in his chest again. “Do you even still love me?”

“I never stopped.” 

“Thank Buddha,” Ae said before pulling Pete into a kiss.

Ae might have grown and changed, but the feel of his lips, their taste, the smell of his skin, it was all still painfully the same. And all at once, as Ae’s tongue lapped at Pete’s lips, Pete finally felt that he’d come home. 

[scifigeneration]

Protecting human heritage on the moon: Don't let 'one small step' become one giant mistake

by Michelle Hanlon

Neil Armstrong took this photograph of Buzz Aldrin during the Apollo 11 extravehicular activity on the moon. NASA

Why did the hominin cross the plain? We may never know. But anthropologists are pretty sure that a smattering of bare footprints preserved in volcanic ash in Laetoli, Tanzania bear witness to an evolutionary milestone. These small steps, taken roughly 3.5 million years ago, mark an early successful attempt by our common human ancestor to stand upright and stride on two feet, instead of four.

Nearly 50 years ago, Neil Armstrong also took a few small steps. On the moon. His bootprints, along with those of fellow astronaut Buzz Aldrin, are preserved in the lunar soil, called regolith, on what Aldrin described as the “magnificent desolation” of the moon’s surface. These prints, too, bear witness to an evolutionary milestone, as well as humankind’s greatest technological achievement. What’s more, they memorialize the work of the many individuals who worked to unlock the secrets of space and send humans there. And those small steps pay homage to the daring men and women who have dedicated – and those who lost – their lives to space exploration.

The evidence left by our bipedal ancestors are recognized by the international community and protected as human heritage. But the evidence of humanity’s first off-world exploits on the moon are not. These events, separated by 3.5 million years, demonstrate the same uniquely human desire to achieve, explore and triumph. They are a manifestation of our common human history. And they should be treated with equal respect and deference.

I’m a professor of aviation and space law and an associate director of the Air and Space Law Program at the University of Mississippi School of Law. My work focuses on the development of laws and guidelines that will assist and promote the successful and sustainable use of space and our transition into a multi-planet species. During the course of my research, I was shocked to discover that the bootprints left on the moon, and all they memorialize and represent, are not recognized as human heritage and may be accidentally or intentionally damaged or defaced without penalty.

One of Buzz Aldrin’s first bootprints from his Apollo 11 moonwalk on July 20, 1969. NASA

Heritage gets no respect

On Earth, we see evidence of this type of insensitivity all the time. The Islamic State has destroyed countless cultural artifacts, but it’s not just terrorists. People steal pieces of the Pyramids in Gaza and sell them to willing tourists. Tourists themselves see no harm in grabbing cobblestones that mark roads built by ancient Romans or snapping the thumbs off terra cotta warriors crafted centuries ago to honor a Chinese emperor.

And, just last year, Sotheby’s auctioned off a bag – the first bag that Neil Armstrong used to collect the first moon rocks and dust ever returned to Earth. The sale was entirely legal. This “first bag” ended up in the hands of a private individual after the U.S. government erroneously allowed it to be included in a public auction. Rather than return the bag to NASA, its new owner sold it to the highest bidder for US$1.8 million. That’s a hefty price tag and a terrible message. Imagine how much a private collector would pay for remnants of the first flag planted on the moon? Or even just some dust from Mare Tranquilitatis?

The fact is if people don’t think sites are important, there is no way to guarantee their safety – or the security of the artifacts they host. Had the first bag been recognized as an artifact, its trade would have been illegal.

The taller Buddha of Bamiyan before (left) and after (right) destruction. UNESCO/A Lezine, CC BY-SA

Introducing ‘For All Moonkind’

That’s why I co-founded the nonprofit For All Moonkind, the only organization in the world committed to making sure these sites are protected. Our mission is to ensure the Apollo 11 landing and similar sites in outer space are recognized for their outstanding value to humanity and protected, like those small steps in Laetoli, for posterity by the international community as part of our common human heritage.

Our group of nearly 100 volunteers – space lawyers, archaeologists, scientists, engineers, educators and communicators from five continents – is working together to build the framework that will assure a sustainable balance between protection and development in space.

Here on Earth, the international community identifies important sites by placing them on the World Heritage List, created by a convention signed by 193 nations. In this way, the international community has agreed to protect things like the cave paintings in Lascaux, France and Stonehenge, a ring of standing stones in Wiltshire, England.

There are no equivalent laws or internationally recognized regulations or even principles that protect the Apollo 11 landing site, known as Tranquility Base, or any other sites on the moon or in space. There is no law against running over the first bootprints imprinted on the moon. Or erasing them. Or carving them out of the moon’s regolith and selling them to the highest bidder.

Between 1957 and 1975, the international community did dedicate a tremendous amount of time and effort to negotiating a set of treaties and conventions that would, it was hoped, prevent the militarization of space and ensure freedom of access and exploration for all nations. At the time, cultural heritage in outer space did not exist and was not a concern. As such, it is not surprising that the Outer Space Treaty, which entered into force in 1967, doesn’t address the protection of human heritage. Today, this omission is perilous.

Because, sadly, humans are capable of reprehensible acts.

Back to the moon

Currently there are a comparative trickle of companies and nations with their sights on returning to the moon. China landed a rover on the far side in January. An Israeli company hopes to reach the moon in March. At least three more private companies have plans to send rovers in 2020. The U.S., Russia and China are all planning human missions to the moon. The European Space Agency has its sights on an entire Moon Village.

But as history shows, this trickle of explorers could soon become a rush. As we straddle the threshold of true space-faring capability, we have an extraordinary opportunity. We have time to protect our common heritage, humanity’s first steps, on the moon before it is vandalized or destroyed.

If our hominin ancestor had a name, it is lost to history. Conversely, English novelist J.G. Ballard suggested that Neil Armstrong may well be the only human being of our time remembered 50,000 years from now.

If we do this right, 3.5 million years from now, not only will his name be remembered, his bootprint will remain preserved and the story of how Tranquility Base became the cradle of our space-faring future will be remembered forever, along with the lessons of tumultuous history that got us to the moon. These lessons will help us come together as a human community and ultimately advance forward as a species.

To allow anything else to happen would be a giant mistake.

About The Author:

Michelle Hanlon is a Professor of Air and Space Law at the University of Mississippi.

This article is republished from our content partners at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

[angedemystere]

Reading for February and TBR for March

I had a bit of a falling off in February. It honestly frustrated and frightened me bc I’d done so well in January, and now suddenly “OoP i caNt reEAd oHH NoO” (I mean I couldn’t focus/stay interested to read substantially each day). Maybe it’s just the books themselves, or it’s my reading habits, or both. I’m gonna keep an eye on these and see what I can do to be more consistent with the time I put into reading. But ANYWAY, here’s what I finished in February:

Monk’s Hood: The Third Chronicle of Brother Cadfael (Ellis Peters)

Till We Have Faces (C.S. Lewis)

Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? (Brian D. McLaren)

I DNF’d (temporarily):

Leviathan (R.M. Huffman)

The Widow Queen (Elzbieta Cherezinska)

The Discovery of God (David Klinghoffer)

Lanny (Max Porter)

I got halfway through Lanny, and that held my attention the most, so I’ll aim to finish it in March.

Speaking of March, let’s show off that TBR to, hopefully, keep my accountable:

On Stories by C.S. Lewis

One of my nonfiction reads for the month. As a writer and as someone who wants to get through more of Lewis’s fiction, it’s fascinating to get a look into his thoughts on literature and commentary on specific works (including Tolkien!). Yeah I’ve already started and am enjoying it.

To Kill a Kingdom by Alexandra Christo

This is a continuation. I think I got almost 50% into it, and while I’m not 100% sure I remember everything, I’m just gonna keep going. I want to like this book more than I am so far - I mean, enemies-to-lovers is my jam. But it has to be done in a certain way, and I’m not feeling the attraction-tension yet between the main couple. I’m also unsure if I’m even all that invested in said characters individually. But eh, let’s see how it goes.

City of Light, City of Poison by Holly Tucker

Another nonfiction pick! I really hope this has good pacing because the premise is so baller and should keep me interested. This is partly for research, but also it’s adjacent to my love of Les Miserables ... no I will not explain.

The Greenlanders by Jane Smiley

I just got this from a library book sale. I’ve heard of and been recommended to read Jane Smiley, but this will be my first foray. Nordic family historical drama? Yes please.

The Time Jesus Cursed by Peter Dellas

What a title! Yet another nonfiction read - I didn’t realize how many of these I squeezed into this month. It’s a commentary on the Book of Revelation that delves into the meanings of this apocalyptic text as it would have been understood by the readers of the late-1st century, early 2nd-century church. Feels appropriate to read close to Easter. 

[sitinthelight]

I’ve been thinking about you a lot

In small doses and in drifting thoughts and conversations with myself.

After we had sex, he held me in his arms, my hands in his hair and on the back of his neck, holding him close to me. Laying in bed, unclothed and facing each other, we were having conversations that sat untouched for years. 

I don’t remember how it switched or which direction it turned to lead him into asking me this.

“Did you like him?”

“It’s complicated.”

He patiently listened to me as I paused to explain in brief anecdotes. 

Lately I’ve realized that except on this website and to the few people who dare to ask, I don’t talk about myself. My interests. How I’m feeling. Who I am as a person. People who have spent years around me know little about me. 

The way I felt about my dad, people feel about me. I knew little about him. I only had a basic knowledge of his interests. I only found out that he held an interest in photography when he was around my age during my senior year of high school. I found a film camera and it’s bag full of equipment in his closet randomly one weekend when searching for something I thought he may have hidden. 

I know he loved the Eagles, he liked Amy Grant. He loved American music dated from the 60′s to 80′s and asked me if I knew the songs when they came on the radio during late night road trips in the car when my mom and sister were asleep. I’d stay awake with him and we’d listen to them together as he told me the titles of the songs but he’d sometimes forget the artists. 

He liked spontaneous trips and traveling a distance to see friends and family. He’d wake us up early in the morning to tell us to get ready, we were going to DC or the beach. He liked Chinese buffets more than anyone really should. He was an excellent chef in Vietnamese and authentic Chinese cuisine. But he couldn’t make pho. I was told he used to be a chef in a restaurant after he dropped out of school. He was a refugee from the Vietnam war and he was around the age of 15 when he arrived here, sponsored by a rich family that paid for his school before he left them suddenly and never contacted them again. He liked his coffee black. His favorite beer was Heineken and he enjoyed karaoke. He enjoyed getting pancakes from McDonald’s. 

He worked a lot with his vegetables and herbs in the garden. He was buddhist and had a statue of Buddha in the garage. He liked parties and socializing with his friends. An old friend who spoke Vietnamese told me he was pretty perverted and that’s why he never wanted me to learn the language. He slept a lot and ate a lot. He loved fruit, especially logan, which we have sitting in the fridge right now. He loved it fresh and he loved it canned, he always invited me to eat it with him. He watched Maury and Jerry Springer after we came back from school. He watched wrestling after we ate dinner. We watched Jeopardy religiously and he was convinced I was smart enough to be in it. He always laughed and teased me about the ideas of boys and boyfriends when I was young but as soon as I actually started becoming interested in them, he suddenly flipped his tone and attitude towards me. 

He loved Jackie Chan. He watched any and every movie that had Jackie Chan. He was superstitious. He bonded with my mom when soccer was on and cheered on Brazil through their wins. He was the only person who defended my continuous use of my comfort “blankie” even through out high school. He bought me any stuffed animal I wanted. 

He was bored. He played our game boys when we were at school, beating games like Finding Nemo and Jimmy Neutron in one go. He hated Pokemon and didn’t get the game, there was too much dialogue and choice. He experimented with Jello and baking cookies. He went through periods where all he made every morning for months was pancakes or for every dinner we’d go to Pizza Inn. I’ve only recently been able to start enjoying pizza again. He carried too much cash around with him. His wallet was torn and ragged. He never bought new jeans, most of them had holes or rips at the bottom. He wore a lot of short sleeve button ups and always had on a baseball cap unless we were at a wedding. We went to a lot of weddings. He knew a lot of people. 

His friends said he was a good hardworking man. They didn’t know what he was actually like when he was at home and drunk. He had a bible in vietnamese that he never opened but he encouraged us to continue praying. Both his parents died. His mother was half french. He was from a small village in south Vietnam. 

Recently, my mom talked with one of his old friends at the grocery store. They sent his urn to Vietnam to be in a temple there. His friend met with his sister and his nieces. He always sent money to his nieces but stopped sending money to his sister after she lied, saying she was caring for their father but she was not. His sister said they located his brother and that his brother was alive, knew of his death, and was living in Texas. My dad never talked about his brother and never was able to contact his brother. Before this, last we heard about his brother was that he was in Hawaii. 

I don’t have anything from him after he died. He wanted me to have his gold cross necklace. He gave it to me when I was little but the chain was too long for my small neck. He sold it when I was in college but before then, he wore it every day. He told me I could have his camera and equipment. I don’t know what happened to that. 

And this all seems like a lot. But it isn’t really. It’s observations. Surface level information. I didn’t know his favorite color or what his favorite time of the year was. I didn’t know how he felt about politics, just that he voted for Bush. He never talked about much of anything. Never about his life in Vietnam. Rare moments came where he talked about going back after the war and he’d tear up slightly remembering the friends who died and the ones who were inured. I remember his phone calls when his dad died and he went to Vietnam for a month. He told me he loved me so many times which was rare for him. When I was in college, he’d offer me money but I always refused. He’d promise to come see me but his promises fell through.

I just can’t seem to stop thinking about small things that I don’t know about him. And then realizing there are so many things people don’t know about me. Zach mentioned it during our first year of dating that I never talked about my childhood or the things I really liked. 

Scott told me that he didn’t know what I really liked either and that he was disappointed that I wasn’t and am still not very open. 

It’s weird. I didn’t mean to adopt this habit and kind of put it all under the category of my social anxiety but it’s a lot more than that. I’m coming to the conclusion that that’s why I have such difficulty maintaining friendships and creating new bonds with people who don’t have the patience to talk to me. 

Zach’s grandmother died today so death has been on my mind. He’s been on my mind just in general. 

[littleshebear]

The Narrow Road, Part 3: Dreams.

Aaaaand we’re back. New’s year’s resolution: Finish my damn wips. This chapter turned out far sadder than I expected. It starts out fairly humorous then takes a sharp left into angst-ville. 

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Commander Zavala | OC: Sasha | Zavala x Female OC  | Zavala x Sasha | Lord Shaxx | The Dark Age | Angst | Romance | Zavala x Insomnia = OTP | Awoken prophetic dream shenanigans | cw for partner loss/grief

You the butterfly - I, Chuang Tzu’s dreaming heart.

               -Matsuo Bashō

“Ow!” Zavala jerks his head back, sucking a short, sharp breath through his teeth. Normally, his Ghost would have healed him by now but this is not a normal situation. He’s accustomed to pain, just not hands-on medical care.

“Bear it, weakling.” Alexandra smirks down at him before she resumes dabbing at a cut on his forehead. Zavala supposes that whatever is on the pad she’s using is some sort of disinfectant but the way it stings and burns makes it feel like liquid torture.

He looks around the room to distract himself, from both the pain and from the fact that the first human he’s laid eyes on since being rezzed has her face inches from his own.  The room can only be described as functional. In terms of furniture, there’s the bed which he’s seated on, a plain wardrobe and a couple of battered-looking easy chairs. The back half of the room houses what seems to double as a work space and kitchen area. A tiny-plug in cooker sits on top of a work-bench beside scattered tools and what are most likely gun parts and empty rounds. The only decorative pieces he can see are a small statue of a seated, robed man and what looks like a two-stringed musical instrument, with a headstock carved into the shape of a horse’s head. He lets his eyes rest anywhere except on her while he keeps as still as possible. As gentle as her touch is, there’s every possibility she might pull a knife on him again if he’s a bad patient.

“You live here?” He asks, still casting his gaze around the spartan abode.

“No,” she replies. “I live on The Road, this is just where I keep my stuff.” She smiles down at him as she sets about closing his wound with butterfly bandages.

“Ah. I see.” He doesn’t really see it. If he stopped to think about it, he wouldn’t understand why anyone would trade the comfort of a home for the danger of The Road. As it is, he’s decided now is the time to look back up at her. He’s not thinking about much except how different she looks when she smiles.

[Zavala? Are you all right?] Izanami intrudes over their neural link. A tiny frown clouds his decidedly battered and bruised features. What an odd question. He’s been beaten up, one eye is swelling shut, it hurts to breathe, he’s fairly sure his nose is broken and he can’t ask his Ghost to heal him. Not yet, anyway. Of course he’s not all right.

[Why are you asking me that?]

[You’re tachycardic!] She exclaims, sending ripples of worry through the link. [Your heart rate is pushing one-ninety, is something wrong? Is it your injuries, did I miss something? I should heal you.]

[No.] Zavala replies. [You want us to keep a low profile, how do you think she’ll react if you suddenly pop out and start beaming Light at me? Relax. I’m fine.]

[Then why are you-] Izanami pauses as Alexandra frames Zavala’s face with her hands and tips his head up towards her.

“Look at me.” She rests her thumbs on his cheekbones, gently stroking either side of his nose and gazing intently at him. He obliges, his frown instantly dissolving. He avoids her eyes and finds himself staring at her nose. The freckles he noticed when they first met catch his attention. He decides he likes freckles.

[Now you’ve stopped breathing! There’s definitely something not ri-] There’s a sudden, stony silence across their neural link. [Oh. All right. I see what’s happening here. Never mind.]

Alexandra removes her hands and straightens up before Zavala can respond. “I think your nose is broken.” She crosses over to the kitchen area and retrieves an ice pack from a small fridge. She places it in his hand and guides it to his nose. “Keep an eye on it. You might need to get to the infirmary and have it reset.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she shrugs. “If you’re fine with long term breathing problems and your nose healing all crooked.” She flops down into one of the chairs, sending up a small cloud of dust and causing the springs to creak. She clearly wasn’t kidding about not spending much time here. “Why didn’t you fight back? That long on The Road, you must be able to handle yourself.”

“I tend to favour running away. I’m good at that. Usually.”

Alexandra laughs. “That’s as good a survival strategy as any, I guess. So where did you get the spear? That’s a Fallen blade, you didn’t get that by running away.”

“I scavenged it.” He omits the part where he scavenged it from the body of a vandal he’d despatched minutes before. Alexandra doesn’t reply to this. She merely stares back as if studying him. “Is this an interrogation?”

“The others,” she hesitates no doubt searching for a tactful way to say ‘they don’t want you here.’ “The others are sceptical. The Road is a dangerous place, you’d have to be stupendously lucky to survive out there alone, for any length of time. Lucky or…” her lips twitch in amusement. “Extremely good at running away.”

“Well, can I ask you something?” He winces as he shifts the ice pack. “Who is Fulgrim and why do people keep asking me if I work for him?”

“Ah, well.” All traces of amusement desert Alexandra when she hears that name. “That’s Lord Fulgrim, to the likes of us. He’s a Warlord, he has territory not far from here. We’ve had the odd skirmish with his people but he hasn’t tried to take the town. Not yet, anyway. He’s ruthless. He’ll give protection in exchange for tribute but if people won’t pay…” She trails off, staring at nothing in particular. She shakes her head and comes to. “He’s a Lightbearer, do you know what that means?”

“I’ve heard the term.” His voice is even but his blood has run as cold as the bag of ice in his hand.

“They have abilities. Powers, like something out of an old comic book. And you can’t kill them. They have these little drones that follow them around, they bring them back to life somehow.”  She regards him seriously. “Take my advice. You see someone with one of those drones floating beside them? You do that running away thing you told me about.” She gets to her feet with a sigh. “Anyway. I need to go, I’m on watch soon. You can sleep here tonight, I won’t be back til morning.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not. Make yourself at home, there’s food in the fridge, bathroom’s through that door. I’d give you the tour but that’s pretty much it. Only one rule: Don’t touch my morin khuur or the Buddha.”

Zavala stands, removes the ice pack from his face and casts a puzzled, uncertain look around the room. “The what?”

Alexandra purses her lips to suppress a smile. “You are so far from home, aren’t you? Don’t touch that,” she points to the horse-head stringed instrument, then the statuette sitting on the shelf, “Or that.”

“Ah. I won’t.” He bobs his head, something between a bow and respectful nod, unsure of the etiquette for a situation like this. “Thank you Alexandra Ivanova. You’ve been very kind.”

“Don’t be so formal. Call me Sasha. And don’t worry about it. It’s my job.”

“Even so. I’m grateful.”

She nods back to him in response before opening the door to leave. “Sleep well, Just Zavala.”

He shuts the door after her and listens closely for the sound of her footsteps receding into the distance. “Okay, come out.”

Izanami immediately coalesces beside him. “I thought she’d never leave!” She projects a cone of Light towards Zavala’s chest and he sighs in relief. “That’s your ribs intact again. Better?”

He takes another deep breath and exhales slowly. “So much better.” He puts up a hand to shield his face when she starts healing the bruises there. “What are you doing? How obvious did you want to make this?”

She stares back at him with as much incredulity as a floating drone can muster. “Zavala. We’re not staying. We have to to go!”

Zavala closes his eyes and sighs, visibly deflating. “Iz, I am tired. I am so tired. Let me rest.”

“Did you hear what she said? And the way she said it? She hates Lightbearers. She practically spat the word out. If she finds out what you are I…” Her shell gives a little shudder. “I don’t want to think about what she might do. We can’t stay here.”

“Just a couple of days.” He kicks off his boots and eases himself down on the bed. “Give me two night’s decent sleep and we’ll move on? Deal?”

Izanami turns her shell this way and that. “Fine,” she eventually forces the word out. “So long as it’s temporary. At least let me deal with some of the deep tissue damage. Let me take the swelling down, just a little bit?”

“Okay.” He settles down on top of the blankets and groans in contentment despite the throbbing pain in his head. So this is what sleeping in a bed feels like, he thinks as his eyes fall shut.

Izanami shoots small, hesitant beams of Light towards him. “She was right. Your nose is broken. Want me to fix it? Zavala?” He doesn’t respond, having fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. “I’ll fix it,” she whispers. “Sweet dreams.”

She sits in the corner of a darkened room. Her face is obscured, her head bowed. So much about her is different; her hair is shorter, she wears strange armour bearing sigils he doesn’t recognise but he knows it’s her. Somehow he knows. She cradles a large, black and white pistol in her hands with tender reverence.. When she eventually raises her head to look at him, she does so slowly, as though it’s a burden too heavy for her to carry. She looks at him with tear-filled eyes and when she speaks, her voice is quiet and strained.

“I’m sorry, Luchik.”

Zavala woke with a start, barely suppressing the urge to call her name. He sat up and looked around frantically until he remembered where he was. It was pitch black but his keen Awoken eyes could make out the sleeping form of Shaxx on a pallet on the other side of their shared yurt. He lay back down on his own bed and stared into the darkness, contemplating the dream that had so rudely shaken him awake. Of all his recurring dreams about Sasha, this was a common one but its frequency did nothing to help him understand it.

What’s wrong, Sashenka? What are you trying to tell me?

There were no answers forthcoming in the night’s silence. He had been so sure the dreams would stop once he reached the Traveler. That was their goal, they had been determined that at least one of them would make it. He did. He thought she’d be at peace after that. Clearly, he was wrong.

He rose from his pallet, having no desire to go back to sleep. He dressed as quietly as he could then picked up his spear and opened the door to the hut. Shaxx snorted and stirred as he did so.

“Mmph? Effie? Where’re y’goin?”

Zavala can’t help but smile at that. “Efrideet’s not here, Shaxx. Go back to sleep.” It was good of his new friend to put him up the way he had, but Zavala was eager to get his own space. These disruptive, sleepless nights weren’t fair on Shaxx. As much as Shaxx's energy seemed boundless, he needed his rest. Zavala headed toward the centre of the settlement, to the fire that always burned brightly, no matter the hour. He sat down, fished out a whetstone from a pouch in his belt and set to sharpening the blade of his spear. He carried on with the repetitive, meditative movements when he sensed, rather than heard his Ghost approach.

 “I don’t think that spear can get much sharper.” Izanami hovered just behind his shoulder. “There’ll be nothing left of it.”

“It’s soothing.”

“Can’t sleep?” He shook his head. “Bad dream?” His only response was to draw the whetstone across the blade once more. “You can talk to me, you know.”

The Ghost’s assurance was met with silence. He rose to trudge over to the nearby wood pile. Sparks, like tiny amber stars, scattered into the surrounding darkness as he threw extra logs onto the fire. Once he was satisfied the fire was sufficiently stoked, flopped back down into his seat and resumed honing the spear resting in his lap. A not entirely comfortable silence ensued. The fire spat and crackled, the blade sang with each stroke of the whetstone and Izanami’s shell whirred softly as she considered what to say next.

“I miss her too, Zavala.”

He abruptly ceased his ministrations and looked up at his Ghost for the first time since she’d approached him. “Really?” He asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “You two didn’t always see eye to eye.”

“We agreed on some things; She loved you.”

She could tell she’d touched a nerve with that comment. A tense muscle worked in his jaw, his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his emotions, then there was his smile. It was barely discernible and it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes but Izanami knew it was there. He held his hand out, palm up and beckoned. She sped over to him, straight past the proffered hand and nuzzled in between his neck and shoulder. Zavala gave a sad chuckle, musing on how his scarf served a dual purpose; protection from both cold and the shell points of an affectionate Ghost.

“I’m alright, Iz,” he whispered, covering her shell with his hand.

“No you’re not.” Her shell pressed into his scarf, muffling her voice. “You haven’t let yourself grieve, not properly. We were so focused on getting here, you didn’t have much time to think about anything else. You have time now.”

His Ghost had a point, he had to admit. As keenly as he'd felt the loss of Sasha, those feelings had necessarily taken a backseat to the daily drudgery of their pilgrimage: On your feet. Keep going. Don’t give up. Be brave.

“I just…” he tailed off, experiencing a flare up of what he’d come to think of as stealth grief. He understood the agony of the initial loss. There was an honesty about it, he was supposed to suffer, he could accept that. Bear it, weakling, he’d told himself. And he did. What he resented in the weeks that followed was how the pain would wait to ambush him without warning. He’d been lied to, grief didn’t go through stages, it came in waves, as relentless as the tide. Anything could remind him of her and set him off. A scent. A piece of music. An anecdote that he wanted to tell her. The thought of life plans altered or abandoned completely. And the worst: Those damn dreams of things that had never happened and never would. It was underhand. It was sneaky. It wasn’t fair.

“I just thought we’d have more time,” he said, in his second attempt at explaining his feelings. “I saw a future so clearly. I didn’t think I’d be doing this alone.”

[You’ll never be alone.] Izanami switched to the neural link to emphasise her point. [I’m here.] She floated back a little, extricating herself from this approximation of an embrace. [Try getting back to sleep?]

Zavala shook his head. “There’s little point, the sun will be up soon. Besides, I’m not tired.” That was a lie. He was worn out but he wouldn’t tell his perpetually worried Ghost the truth, that if he didn’t sleep, he wouldn’t dream.

[not-kxthln]

Binondo's Chinese New Year: A First Binondo Experience

In my younger years of 11 and 14, February has always been a concept of love, relationships, courtships, dating, and things a like. However, growing up and being more conscious to my surroundings, February also became a festivity of dragon dances, lucky charms, horoscopes, and a lot of color reds as the celebration of Chinese New Year becomes evident to me. This year, as part of a class output, I immersed myself in my first celebration of Chinese New Year, and there is no perfect place to celebrate this festivity other than at the oldest China town in the world, Binondo, Manila.

Celebration of Chinese New Year in Binondo is hell, long waiting queue, loud rhythmical banging from here and there, and a vast sea of people even at the corners of Binondo. Recognizing those scenarios from the previous and other occasions, the perfect time to witness the celebration is the day before the exact Chinese New Year (February 4), so we did. On the day of the trip, we were welcomed by a heavy traffic upon entering Binondo, literally as we enter the arc of Chinatown. It is said that one way to witness the beauty of a place is through walking without knowing the right way to the destination and again, so we did. We walked without certainty if the path we’re talking is leading towards the heart of Chinatown which is the Ongpin Street and truly, the beauty lies in the eyes of those who wanted to see beauty.

Binondo at Daylight

(click here for more photos)

The journey towards the destination should not always be rushed to be able to appreciate the beauty of what is in front rather than what is yet to come. From a perspective of the latter, the town is crowded by people, infrastructures, stores, and electrical wires, the sunlight only passes through the cracks of high rising buildings surrounding the streets of Binondo, Manila making it dark and gray, and the unsynchronized cries from vendors of all races; Filipino or Chinese. However, looking beyond what is evident a beauty from within is revealed. People of different culture and purpose as to why they are there expressed the same goal for that day, to celebrate the Chinese New Year. The crowd is usually large at daylight and it is harder to immerse on what is happening, however, the crowd is unusually smaller than expected, there is a place for us to stay and the cold breeze of Amihan could still be felt. Smartphones and cameras are all set for the tourist to capture that picture perfect and Instagramable moment, it may be a video of the traditional dragon dance, selfies, or a photo of an unusual scene. I took a chance of taking photos using my phone camera even if there is a great possibility that it will be snatched from me; taking risk is what makes an adventure fun and exciting. I stopped at the time and places where the beauty of Binondo is revealed to me, at the center of a crossroad, at the corner of the street, while walking, and even while crossing the road. But despite all these, one still has its own negative polar.

Background of the Celebration

Traditionally, Chinese New Year is a Chinese festival that celebrates the beginning of the year on their traditional Chinese calendar. According to a Chinese myth, this festivity started as a form of defeating Nian, a mythical beast who was said to be eating villagers, through setting off fireworks and putting up red papers to scare off the beast, and because it works according to its purpose, the Chinese continued the practice making it a tradition. Today, Nian is believed to be the dragon dancing during today’s Chinese New Year and in Binondo,dragon dances can be seen in different forms, giant dragons controlled by people holding poles, people wearing dragon costumes, and even street children who have improvised their costumes using pieces of cloth and a box. It has become a form of performance in exchange for a money nowadays which defy the true essence of the celebration. Which also remind me if the celebration still carries the true essence of the celebration even in other places? Should its essence be taught in the public during the celebration or is the public and the Chinese community are able to accept that the true essence of the celebration can no longer be recognized?

Philippines vs China

Since the advent of the Philippine’s right towards the Scarborough Shoal, there has been a dispute between the Philippines and China as they also claim their right at the shoal. With this, a feud between Filipinos and Chinese became evident especially in the internet and the gaming community as the terms “chingchong” and “peenoise” became a racism terms for the Chinese and Filipinos. The feud developed into something more than the internet and gaming when the Chinese coastguards deprived the rights of Filipino fishermen to fish at the shoal which locals call Panatag Shoal, Bajo De Masinloc, or Huangyan Islets despite its inclusion to the Philippine’s exclusive economic zone.

In the internet, the Filipinos rage towards how the Chinese treat them has become a clash between nations however, it is also evident that during our trip to Binondo, Filipinos are the number one “tourist” at the celebration. Does this feud of nations be forgotten when a celebration occurs? I mean if Filipinos are patriarchal enough then why would such celebration is being patronized by Filipinos? The Lucky Chinatown Mall exhibits a huge sculpture of Budai or the Laughing Buddha where people could light an incense and practice a worship to Budai, bowing to Budai with an incense between a praying hand. But what struck me is that all of the people practicing this are mostly Filipinos who are most likely non-Buddhist. So, why worship a religion that you don’t practice, also given that the people teaching these are Chinese that are having a feud with.

Again, why would a Filipino patronize such celebration if there is hatred towards the people who owns the celebration? To be in? For Instagramable pictures?

Binondo as Producers

(click here for more photos)

The Chinese are also known for their belief in luck as a form of a lot of things, charms, home decors, arrangement of things, food, and etc, and since their stay in the Philippines a practice of trading, Filipinos were also influenced in these beliefs. Binondo, as a Chinatown, is known for different Chinese charm stores and it is a normal scene for a Chinese to sell these products, bracelets that acquires different purpose according to its color or design, home decors which have special instruction as where it should be placed, and foods that are said to obtain luck when eaten during the celebration. Moreover, Filipinos are also involved in the practice of selling these products with also the same purpose but with a cheaper price.

Concept of Charms

Wanting to be more involved in the celebration, I decided to buy charms, specially a bracelet, that would serve a certain purpose to my life, it may be for studying, good health, protection, family, and well-being, stores with these charms are all over Binondo, same products but different prices. Upon entering store after store, I noticed that they were selling real stone gems of different colors and arrangement as a bracelet depending on the luck that it is said to bring. These stores are Chinese owned, and their products ranges from 700 pesos to 2000 pesos, according to the store’s I went to so, I decided to see if those charms from Filipino vendors also serve the same products and prices. It can easily be noticed that Filipino vendors can be seen immediately because they do not have a certain store, instead, they are in kariton, the prices are evidently different because they sell the same bracelets for 50 pesos, however, the quality are also far different because it is obvious that they use cheap materials and a cheap bead work. Analyzing these differences, I came to a conclusion that maybe this celebration is also a venue for business men and “business men” to gain lots of money because they know that most Filipinos will engage in this event. Moreover, upon asking Filipino vendors about the purpose of a certain bracelet, they could not answer directly, or they would just say “hindi ko po alam” (I don’t know).

Binondo at Night

(click here for more photos) 

Roaming around the streets of Binondo, trying out different food, observing people, and just witnessing the whole celebration, I’ve observed that the darker it gets the crowd grows bigger and more foreigners can be seen with the crowd, this may be because of the count down that will be happening at midnight or because Binondo is more beautiful at night. I’ve personally experienced Binondo at daylight and I would say that there is beauty beyond what is explicit to they eye but Binondo at night elicit a different kind of beauty despite of a huge crowd of people, store signs from left and right, lanterns hanging along the streets, and street lights. The nice photos I got also added to my productive day and spending the day with my friends in Binondo too. It was calming but mostly exhausting to witness Binondo from daylight to night but realizing and learning a lot of things from this trip is what really made it worth it. Happy Chinese New Year, Gong Xi Fa Cai!