At 4 in the morning was when my clock struck to signal a shift in my fortunes and luck. I'd sprung from the bed before it could sound twice and switched on the light-saving overhead lights then sat in the small room for maybe fifteen producing a paltry intermittent stream. With a five solid minutes I buffered my quest yet when I arrived just one other did rest and woke not in time to head out with the group which duly out toward the chauffeur did troop. With no cars in our way we sped through the dark and walked in while their local driver then parked and met with a manku (or monk, in this tongue) who brought out dry sarongs for everyone. Thus clad and all ready we made for the spouts and entered cold waters with nary a shout and opened our chakras and relaxed our souls and let ring our innermost balancing bowls. After those 5 outlets had washed us off good we changed into dry clothing in which we could sit for a long period down on the stones and pray to many gods in varying tones. We lifted our bare hands up to chackra 6, washed them in smoke rising from red incense sticks, then prayed once again but with flowers between our fingers which had been so recently cleaned. After that was done sat for meditation and two of us felt a powerful sensation of energies flowing in down out and through repeating and flashing with patterns we knew. Once finished we went then to view Shiva's rod, the rock and stone member of a mighty god, then left by a side-door the groomed temple grounds and reflected on all the knowledge we'd found. We sped back past rice-field and workshops for wood and sought out a café in bustling Ubud and made there new friends with a small group of men. They had on their chests round devices which blinked which caused us to wonder pause inspect and think and caused us to jump in the leader-dude's van and speed right back out to the country again. The price-point was high for what we would have got wherefore we did not buy anything on the spot but pledged to meet up with him a few days hence when passions had cooled and our minds were less dense. My nap didn't happen for now I must ride to find me a resto with decent Wi-Fi where I can complete a task started last week before my eyes flutter shut tired and weak.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
Basing its decision on its inhabitants' incessant demands to consume hot or cold beverages without having to worry about hauling around their own insulated containers, the city of Baltimore, Maryland declared the marshy areas south of its baseball and football stadiums the Anne Arundel Area Styrofoam HOLding Estuary, or AAASHOLE. “We rejoice when inhabitants of and visitors to this city drink from one-time-use-only beverage containers,” said Yolanda E. George, vice-mayor of Charm City, while open-pit burning a few hundred pounds of old computer parts and CDs in her backyard. “But unlike forward-thinking metropolitan areas in other parts of America, we're sure that the best place to store our thousands of tons of soiled Styrofoam cups and discarded plastic shopping bags is right down there in the muddy muck next to the local flora and fauna.” Rather than banning the use of plastic containers city-wide, requiring shoppers to bring their own reusable bags, or doing more to protect its waterways from contamination by convenience-addled local drunkards, Baltimore's city council recently released a statement telling concerned parties to go and fuck themselves.
mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥
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I bicycle, write, surf, and strive.