These Waters Now

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Immortal Words Of The Zen Master:

Yogi Berra was a terrific baseballer and wordsmith. He is one of the most quoted figures in the sports world. He is credited with coining the deceptively simplistic observation, "It ain't over till it's over." But he's also known for his flubs. Here is a collection of the most notorious of these.

"This is like deja vu all over again."
"You can observe a lot just by watching."
"He must have made that before he died." -- Referring to a Steve McQueen movie.
"I want to thank you for making this day necessary." -- On Yogi Berra Appreciation Day in St. Louis in 1947.
"I'd find the fellow who lost it, and, if he was poor, I'd return it." -- When asked what he would do if he found a million dollars.
"Think! How the hell are you gonna think and hit at the same time?"
"You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you're going, because you might not get there."
"I knew I was going to take the wrong train, so I left early."
"If you don't know where you are going, you will wind up somewhere else."
"If you can't imitate him, don't copy him."
"You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six."
"Baseball is 90% mental -- the other half is physical."
"It was impossible to get a conversation going; everybody was talking too much."
"Slump? I ain't in no slump. I just ain't hitting."
"A nickel isn't worth a dime today."
"Nobody goes there anymore; it's too crowded."
"It gets late early out there." -- Referring to the bad sun conditions in left field at the stadium.
Once, Yogi's wife Carmen asked, "Yogi, you are from St. Louis, we live in New Jersey, and you played ball in New York. If you go before I do, where would you like me to have you buried?" Yogi replied, "Surprise me."
"Do you mean now?" -- When asked for the time.
"I take a two hour nap, from one o'clock to four."
"If you come to a fork in the road, take it."
"You give 100 percent in the first half of the game, and if that isn't enough in the second half you give what's left."
"90% of the putts that are short don't go in."
"I made a wrong mistake."
"Texas has a lot of electrical votes." -- During an election campaign, after George Bush stated that Texas was important to the election.
"Thanks, you don't look so hot yourself." -- After being told he looked cool.
"I always thought that record would stand until it was broken."
"Yeah, but we're making great time!" -- In reply to "Hey Yogi, I think we're lost."
"If the fans don't come out to the ball park, you can't stop them."
"Why buy good luggage? You only use it when you travel."
"It's never happened in the World Series competition, and it still hasn't."
"How long have you known me, Jack? And you still don't know how to spell my name." -- Upon receiving a check from Jack Buck made out to "bearer."
"I'd say he's done more than that." -- When asked if first baseman Don Mattingly had exceeded expectations for the current season.
"The other teams could make trouble for us if they win."
"He can run anytime he wants. I'm giving him the red light." -- On the acquisition of fleet Ricky Henderson.
"I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat, and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself?"
"It ain't the heat; it's the humility."
"The towels were so thick there I could hardly close my suitcase."
"You should always go to other people's funerals; otherwise, they won't come to yours."
"I didn't really say everything I said."

These were strange times, he felt like writing, because the dying fall came naturally to him, the default position of melancholy; why are ruins so much more beautiful that new buildings, as Martin used to ask. But none of it was true. Instead these were the most normal times he had ever known; everything at his finger tips, a warm body in his bed, affection, status, time out of mind for sure, but nothing like what it used to be, sober, 22 days today with only one cigarette, swimming laps, the multi-fractured soundtrack echoing through the condo, everything from Bob Dylan to Titanic with lashings of Augie March, stranger strange how you listen to the river of my curdled song, his head thumping from a head cold, the collapse of old buildings, liquid in their intensity, the harvest moon over Chiang Mai, the boy talking to his friend who had a Dutch boyfriend, asking his advice. I don't want it to end. I want to make him happy. I don't know what to do. So the boyfriend, brother, they were all brothers, Mr Chung, who spoke excellent English for a Thai, got on the phone and explained: he ask my advice. I have Farang boyfriend, Dutch, two years. Aek wants to know. He only young. No experience. You are his first foreign boyfriend. He want to know how make you happy. You are lucky. He very sensitive, nice boy.

The headache was clouding his judgement. He was staying at home more than usual; had only been out once yesterday, to a restaurant for Issan food, spicy, distinctive, a packed restaurant on the street where the bill came to 400 bat, $12.50, for a feast for all of them, and they walked away happy with another friend from the Mr X bar, another good looking bejewelled boy who gossiped all the way back into town and complained about the lack of customers, because the tourists were slow to return after the curfew; when the bar owners had leant all the boys 3,000 baht and promptly locked them into an obligation which could easily lead to threats and servitude, and away from the space, away from time, those liquid, metallic buildings collapsing in that region beyond the border of the real, when the meditation exercises failed to vault him into the multiple heavens of which they spoke, when a simple life, a respectful life, seemed the best way to go, the best option, and all the pain which had been configured in his soul, all those deep ravines and terrible fractures, strange creatures wheeling up from the depths, all of it swept away in a new day while he remained inexplicably haunted, refusing to believe happiness was possible. It was true, in the end, what he had written: he didn't know how to be happy.

You very funny man, the Dutch man had said, deliberately inserting himself into their circle, and shortly afterwards offering him yabba in the toilets, those poisonous little pink pills which were a mainstay of the diet of 500 baht whores and Bangkok bad boys. Stay away, stay away, turn your life around, these streets are not just full of broken hearts and faulty memories but inevitable dangers, he warned, but he was on someone else's territory and it made no sense to dictate to those who were at home in these sometimes treacherous, sometimes brutal, always entertaining waters; to extract them from lives where they were surrounded by friends, by people in the same boat, men living in cheap single rooms, meagre belongings, happy, happy, sing a song, everything here, a whole life, he knew these waters now, these places, he knew how things operated, how brief the beauty, the intoxication, the infatuation, how cheerful the camaraderie, how nasty the final habits, how sometimes cheep and always cheerful they shared what they had, in a way status conscious, but not in the same way as those rambling, lonely houses, where he had padded as a child and dissolute rent boy, at their mercy beneath the mirrored ceilings, anything for money, as long as he was drunk.

These Bangkok boys were often not drunk, although it had taken a while to realise that, instead it was just a way of life, something they did, work, in fact, work and gossip and a sense of humour. They knew all the best hotels. Rarely the worst. The foreigners were a breed on their own. Cashed up. Mobile ATMs. Clashed, crowded days. Cheap tricks. Turn away your life. Cross barriers into an infinitely slippery slipstream; but it wasn't like that here. Cheerful. You want? the handsome boy asked, making a familiar gesture. Mr Tong starts work at Bananas tonight. The other characters linger at the front gate. At the top of the soi. He walked his way through all those ordinary lives; the street stalls setting up for the day, the pedlars of everything imaginable, sox, shirts, pens, drinks, food of all kinds, the men flashing well worn pictures of women and going "massage, massage, young girl", or in different parts of town, "young boy, young boy". There was a premium on youth. Of course. Here where there were a million poverty stricken villages feeding their youth into the city; Issan. He was used to it now. I'm old, I'm ugly, the boy had complained Aek's friend Nong had complained on his couch the previous night, no customer take me, at the ripe old age of 24; that year when his drinking had ballooned into a liquid travesty and he thought everything was right with the world, picking his way across the sleeping bodies in his lounge room on the way to work, the sense of impending doom germane to the alcoholic and addict momentarily dissipated in the glories of youth and dissolution.

THE BIGGER STORY:

http://www.smh.com.au/national/a-warrior-farewelled-as-another-digger-falls-20100710-104sq.html

THE partner of the latest Australian killed in Afghanistan has paid a tragic tribute to her young soldier.

Private Nathan Bewes, 23, from the Royal Australian Regiment, died when a home-made bomb exploded near his patrol in the Chora Valley in Oruzgan province just before midnight on Friday. A seriously wounded mate was in a stable condition in hospital at Tarin Kowt.

Kogarah-born Private Bewes was the 17th Digger killed in Afghanistan in the almost decade-long conflict - six of them in the last month. Hours after his death, Prime Minister Julia Gillard led mourners at Christ Church Anglican Cathedral in Darwin at the funeral of Private Scott Palmer, 27, one of three commandos killed in a helicopter crash in northern Kandahar province on June 21.

Ms Gillard said Private Bewes's death increased the determination of soldiers serving in Afghanistan to get the job done.

''There will be Australians today who are asking themselves in the face of this loss why as a country do we continue to pursue our mission there,'' she said. ''We pursue that mission because Afghanistan is a safe haven for terrorists. I believe Australia, while mourning these losses, will understand our continuing determination.''

Opposition Leader Tony Abbott said: ''Australians are immensely proud of the men and women of the Australian Defence Force and I acknowledge the resolute bravery of our soldiers who continue to work and conduct patrols in Afghanistan.''

In an emotional statement, Alice Walsh said of Private Bewes: ''Nate was my best friend, my soul mate, the one I knew I'd be with for the rest of my life. … He always made me laugh and I have never loved anyone so much. He was an excellent soldier.''

Ms Walsh sent a message to all Australians. ''While your loved one comes home to you every day, there are others who are worrying if there will be another day … Take one minute out of your day to pray or wish upon a star for a soldier.''

http://www.greenleft.org.au/node/44743

On July 6, the Thai government approved the extension of an emergency decree in 19 provinces, which includes many in the heartland of the pro-democracy Red Shirts in the country’s north-east.

The extension came a day after the Brussels-based International Crisis Group (ICG) recommended the government immediately lift the decree and hold fresh elections.

But Prime Minister Abhisit Vejajiva, who came to power through the army’s intervention, crushed hopes for new elections weeks ago.

There have been tireless efforts to silence critical voices before and after the bloody crackdown on the Red Shirts in May. The International Crisis Group said in a July 5 report that more than 2200 websites have been shut down for alleged violations to the Computer Crime Act since the state of emergency was imposed on April 7.

In rural provinces, authorities have intensified royalist campaigning since the crackdown. Some village heads in the north-east (or Isan) have received two types of forms from the interior ministry.

The first one is for the collection of signatures from the population for an oath of loyalty to Thailand’s monarchy.

The oath reads: “This person wants to show their willingness to worship the monarchy… and to protect the monarchy with his or her life.”

A village head in Kalasin province said: “I was told to collect 300 signatures in my village. But I’m afraid I couldn’t because some of the 500 villagers actually reside in other areas.”

The second form is for “joining the ‘monarchy protection group’”. It instructs village heads to “organise” 20 people to “implement” the royalist oath. The idea appears to be to organise a type of royalist village militia.

Red shirts near Siam Paragon before being disbanded. Taken on mobile phone.