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 |   Left-overs piled on hot rice and mixed. |
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bibimbap พีบิมบับ (pheebimbap) At home in Thailand we do something similar. At home, we make rice and top it with whatever we didn't finish from the last meal. I finally decided to use June 2022's entries for my responses to other bloggers' entries. I tend to do this daily anyways and post in my weekly 'catch-all' blog (added to every day} "Porthole"  .
Each entry to be brought to the notice of Ẃeβ࿚ẂỉԎḈĥ and StephBee when they are running the Bard Blog Contest. For bitem:981150 sponsored by huser:webwitch and huser:sgcardin |
For
StephBee and Ẃeβ࿚ẂỉԎḈĥ I am agnostic about reincarnation. My body is worn out and my Spirit is tired of this ugly body of mostly water. I was suicidal in Thailand but no one noticed, neither here nor there. People see me smiling and interacting with the world. Even if I mention anxiety or depression it’s discounted and that merely reminds me of how invisible I was growing up, how utterly invisible I felt 1981-1999, how problems arose when I became visible. So, I’m not too thrilled by life. I can only hope that I’ve learned something along the way. I’m sure there’s more than I remember. For instance, I hadn’t thought about the newsletter I put out for years until today. That part of my life was important at one time. Now it’s nearly forgotten. I even put one out in high school! I wonder whether anyone has saved a copy. After writing hundreds of poems, will anyone keep one I wrote for them? If I’m recycled what goes forward? What would make someone recognize me? The Thai BL “Vice Versa” explores the idea of an alternate world. When Sea and Jimmy go back they try to find each other not knowing what each other looked like ‘before’. How did they succeed? They had agreed on uttering one word in greeting. What would a friend and I choose? I can only imagine. "Yes, I have met you before. I don't remember where nor when nor what your name was way back then; but, I'm happy to meet you again." But that applies to many interactions as I’ve met the same personalities, the same physical looks, the same voice, the same aura… around the world again and again.
In a twinkling in memory of Bob French Full moon over the canyon, bright star to its right. Is it Venus or Mars lighting up my sight? Something twinkles in the north. It moves through star-clouds floating east. And above darkness: stars and star-light. Which one have you traveled to? From which do you send your blessings tonight? Or did you return long ago... or never ascend, finding a new home for your soul? When I look deep into my friend's eyes is it your twinkle looking back at me? Whichever, be you starshine, the magic of moonshine, Venus or Mars... you have blessed me. Your light has caressed me through dark years and darker. Tonight, I pray that your light shines eternal knowing that the face I see in the moon could be yours, that the twinkling traversing the night watches over me, that the kindness you once showed me has never faded, nor has my memory of you. When my friend next shares his sunshine ...I'll think of you. Bob died January 1972. Gary was born October 1972. When I met Gare in 1999 he reminded me of Bob in too many ways. "This and every November [#4 Gary Mc]" This is number 12 of 12 blog entries for The Bard. Until next year,  ~500 words |
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