ליונלה
רק החושך
ואף לא אחר
מחבק אותי
כנחש את החולדה
או כאהובתי את העובר שאני
מחובק אני
על ידי
רק החושך
ואף לא אחר
-ליונה וולך, חיפה
AMOSHIMASHA
Monday, July 2, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
B''H
I have successfully unicycled from Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, to Singapore, a rich-a%$ islandopolis that happens to be country, too. It was a grueling trek. I am currently in Delhi, India and got shots unicycling with the Taj Mahal in the background at Agra. When I recover from this illness of the gut, I will try to get the pictures and "treatises" posted.
AMO''Sh Out.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Under a Tight Malaysian Hold
I have been unicycling for 3 days now, starting in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia---near the central bus station. Somehow I made my way out of the city and unicycled along the highway breakdown lane until the 265 KM mark to Johor Bahru, the city across the water from Singapore, and my penultimate destination on this leg of the (U)nicycle tour---from around the 327 KM mark in KL. The "Polis" spotted me and kicked me of the highway, the E2, at the Seremban exit. I wandered around Seremban aimlessly for what seemed like sun-scorched years, fearful the cops would trouble my progress again. None of the "town roads" appeared to be well enumerated and I nearly lost hope, plopping down near dogs in a remote highway underpass. Finally, walking along with my packs and my unicycle, I accidentally reached Route 1, which is rural enough that I can legally ride. I was most overjoyed.
My Aunt Brauna, Uncle Marc, and mother have very kindly decided to benefact me some funds to get me to Israel upon hearing of the recent heinous theft. Heinous because it was so "innocent"---carried out through the fingers of a child. I am much indebted to their kindness.
But they are family, it feels weird to talk to formally about it. Though it is the truth.
I unicycled down Route 1 through very rural areas, through Pedas at night (because there was no civilization where I might rest from jungle beasts lurking among the great palms looming over the road in great shadowed phalanxes of lurking hushed inner jungle hysteria), Chempau, Rembau. The next morning I continued to where I am now---Tampin. There are about 267 Kilometers to go until Johor Bahru. Now to save money, I'll find some town cave to doze in, like the ubiquitous awning'd bus stops along the rural routes. Soon we're to meet the Sabbath Queen once again and I will rest from unicycling and writing phenomenological notes and poetry on the rural Malaysian road side for a day and night.
This is AMOS''H. Out.
My Aunt Brauna, Uncle Marc, and mother have very kindly decided to benefact me some funds to get me to Israel upon hearing of the recent heinous theft. Heinous because it was so "innocent"---carried out through the fingers of a child. I am much indebted to their kindness.
But they are family, it feels weird to talk to formally about it. Though it is the truth.
I unicycled down Route 1 through very rural areas, through Pedas at night (because there was no civilization where I might rest from jungle beasts lurking among the great palms looming over the road in great shadowed phalanxes of lurking hushed inner jungle hysteria), Chempau, Rembau. The next morning I continued to where I am now---Tampin. There are about 267 Kilometers to go until Johor Bahru. Now to save money, I'll find some town cave to doze in, like the ubiquitous awning'd bus stops along the rural routes. Soon we're to meet the Sabbath Queen once again and I will rest from unicycling and writing phenomenological notes and poetry on the rural Malaysian road side for a day and night.
This is AMOS''H. Out.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Blast! I've been Done! Blasted Thou O Thai Beast, Rear Thy Stegosauratic Tail Of Base, Filthy Filchery!
Sadly, a young fellow in Bangkok, Thailand seems to have pickpocketed my bag of $900.00 at a net cafe and right under my nose. I was later going to wire and deposit the amount, but stopped to update this very blog ere getting to that.
This is a clip of me unicycling in Burma (What's Myanmar?) where photography and filming is strictly forbidden for foreigners. So, I had to do this surreptitiously and swiftly to avoid having my camera confiscated or being imprisoned as a state security threat---well, at least that way, I would get to stay in Burma for longer than the one-day visa curently oh so generously and openly allows. Foreigners are not permitted to stray beyond 5 KM out of the border town Kaw Thaung across the Kraburi River from Ranong, Thailand. There are said to be special permits available, but they costly and are frequently rejected, even after they have been already "approved". What is Burma hiding? The fact there is still a vibrant, living, mythos'd, mourning Burma hiding in the interior of the impoverished, rotting, crusty, oppressive shell that is Myanmar? May HaShem soon shower freedom on the Burmese and liberate them from the Mitzrayim* of "Myanmar".
AMO''Sh Out.
*"Egypt" in Hebrew
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
That blasted, dreadful tourist trap Khaosan Road, Bangkok, Thailand
During Songkran (Thai New Year),2011;
Which is famous to the outside world as "Water Festival"---for it is the accepted custom to fall heart-first into anatomogasmic throes of flesh-colored massy throng of a drunken orgiastic loss par excellence of the self as it is in Mardi Gras in mine ol' Nawlins and in Carnival in Rio De Janeiro, that mad southern mountain of drab slabs and verdant mounts where I sat for 25 hours straight writing in about December 2003---and smear passersby's clothes and rosy cheeks with this viscous, arch-messy off-white paste and drench innocents with bucketfulls of ice-cold water from all directions---drunkos from the backs of trance-blasting suped-up pick-ups and lipsticked ladyboys in the arms of drunken tourist frattos from balconies---where, when I was heading to Shabbat services at the local Beit ChaBa''D---which I do for to be with my fellow Yehudim in Dibbuq Khaverim, not in accordance with the extra-Judaic accounts of ChaBa''D 'theology', during this festival, even being all clearly dressed up and in "cultural" garb, I was nevertheless splashed, no, Targeted for a thorough moistening.
Getting in to daven Minchah and get into Qaballat Shabbat, I looked like some kind of white paste-anointed, wet-fleshed zombie from a 1950s cult horror flick. What a Golem to then daven.
Oy vey, HaKavvanah HaTovah Beyoter in Drerd! But we do the best we can. & hopefully don't stop there.
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