Tragic indeed. And to pass on in his native Spain. If writing his life's story I would have imagined his waning moments occurring in Bangkok where he would have been mysteriously buried leaving those who followed his preaching to wonder if he was gone at all. Very much like Elvis or Jim Morrison?
Well, this explains the weird and fuzzy feeling I had standing outside the entrance of NEP at closing time two weeks ago. I know for sure his spirit channeled itself into me that faithful evening. I will always treasure. I know Mao?s disciples still roam amongst us whether it be at the Kasbahs of Fez, the cobblestone-paved alleys of old Sevilla, the wispy fields of Hokkaido?. DrunkenPuta, so dear to Mao, has appeared here on occasion to resound the Philosophy. Maybe this disciple will post now and then to help us in pensive moments, our deepest lulls, when the only bone being tossed to the dogs is another banal poll about the life of an expat.
Jimmie B, this is newsbreaking information indeed. I will initiate my Golden Week here in Japan tomorrow at dawn by walking through the silent, sacred grounds of Meiji Temple reminiscing, contemplating and offering my prayers for Mao.
More drunbk and it is daylight
Drunk, they drink to Me Again again and I am writing here because the boredom feels in me like a fog.
I am heavy, heavy in my heart, my body and my breathing.
