WALKING ON THIN ICE

scab teacher’s union protest sign - foto by smith

when the teacher’s union kicked out their corrupt leadership a couple years ago, the crooks formed their own union. back in the troubles of 2006 when the real teachers occupied the town square during their salary strike, the crooked governor of Oaxaca offered more money to the crooks go back to work. they jumped at it. unfortunately the governor came to terms with the real teachers a year later and stopped paying the house scabs. now the scabs are occupying the town square with a hunger strike. that’s their sign above. the rest of the fotos are from the real teachers who are striking again this year. i feel sorry for anyone who’s poor, unemployed, and hungry - but the scabs stabbed their fellow teachers in the back, so my sympathy is greatly muted. (this data came from Stan Gotlieb at http://www.realoaxaca.com/ - he’s the man whom we contacted by email when we first arrived. he and his wife Diana helped get us oriented here).

i love living here where the real folk are actively trying to take back their lives and country from the rich.

real teacher’s union protest grafitti - foto by smith

real teacher’s union protest grafitti - foto by smith

real teacher’s union protest grafitti - foto by smith

real teacher’s union protest grafitti - foto by smith

real teacher’s union protest grafitti - foto by smith

real teacher’s union protest grafitti - foto by smith

real teacher’s union protest grafitti - foto by smith

dead elvis graffiti - foto by smith

this is another “clean out my pocket notebook notes” blog. the Poetry Thieves of Barcelona taught me not to let my notes linger too long because some pickpocket can come along and filch them. i wish i could have seen the pickpockets’ faces when they saw they stole my poetry notebook from my right rear pocket instead of my wallet.

i told Lady “in this world, everything is maybe baby except you. there ain’t no maybe between me and my Lady.” she told me i was a smooth talker. got a kiss out of it, so maybe she’s right.

art in spanish is arte, pronounced ar-tay. Lady was talking of putting dead rotting things in her art and then selling it as Odor Arte. or perhaps we could sell the name to some Gucci perfume manufacturer - perhaps with a “Looking good, smelling bad” tag-line. wearing bad odors would get you more personal room on elevators and street crowds. it’s all about more personal space.

learning Spanish, my brain keeps playing word games. “i have” is “tengo” which sounds like tango, so when shop keepers tell me “no tengo” because they don’t have something, my brain starts singing the “No Tengo Tango Blues.” of course all this internal bi-language word play has an audience of exactly one - me.

before watching American Splendor, i’d been in 6 places where movies were shot. the church where Meryl Streep got married in The Deer Hunter is in my home neighborhood of Tremont . . the store where she worked is next to the church, and their wedding reception was shot a couple blocks away in Lemko Hall, where i’ve read poetry and shown art. what’s amazing to me is when they leave the reception in Tremont, they walk out onto the streets of Pittsburg - it’s a shock to see them come out onto what should be a flat street in Cleveland and start walking down a hill in another city.

during our travels, we watched a movie being shot in Leeds, England, and we saw two scenes for another movie being shot in Essaouira, Morocco.

but American Splendor takes my in-film scene count way up because I’ve been in practically every scene shown in the film. their shot of Meryl Streep’s church (which was in both American Splendor and The Deer Hunter) was taken from the balcony of one of my artist friend’s studio. there’s a bit of magic in watching screen magic and seeing scenes of your life’s set.

i’m searching for The Lost Blog. think it ran off with The Lost Chord. but then i’m from Allen Ginsburg’s Lost Generation, still awaiting the Last Word, lost Lord, lust absurd, luck lore, lick lure, swift swore, or munch more.

may he/sh/it who lives by the sword be lost by the sword.

political graffiti - foto by smith

political graffiti - foto by smith

5 recent comics by Lady K can be viewed at myspace.com/shadygravylady.

My Social Security problems MAY have been worked out (when dealing with Governments, it’s best to wait and see what they do, not what they say). My mother-in-law took my info into their office, then sent me this email:

Your SS will be okay. I went to the SS office–no wait at all–gave the worker your email & signature & birth certificate. She and another worker looked in and on the desk of the person who was responsible (but absent today), found your file and found the UNRETURNED birth certificate & military info. The youngish, good-looking worker said to me with a grim but reassuring smile as she handed them back to me, “It will be taken care of.”

My birth certificate and application have been sitting on that person’s desk FOR 3 MONTHS. This is the Social Security Office in Painesville, Ohio, that never once answered their fone when we called - and we stayed on for hours at a time ringing and ringing and ringing. So glad my tax dollars help pay for incompetent government employees and illegal wars.

In May I should receive my first SS check, which will be enough to live on down here. If our application for a year-long Mexican visa goes through, we’ll have both time and money outside our home country - a brief respite in this world whorl of woe.

political graffiti - foto by smith

Tomas loading picked coffee beans on horse - foto by smith

Coffee’s been more real to me since we spent two days on the uneven side of a steep mountain picking beans from coffee trees - and since I went 3 days without coffee before Lady decided to end her 2 month no-coffee spree. The Zapotec couple we stayed with while picking asked us to write a coffee poem. So here it is - 6 haikus in one cup.

Owed to Coffee
(for Tomas & Elvira, our Zapotec coffee couple)

Standing on Coffee
Mountain, the vanilla vine
dances, beckons me.

Coffee cherries red
against blue sky await
caffeine morning rush.

This liquid dark way
hot strong coiled energy
sleeping in my cup.

The kiss of coffee
on my stiff lips still asleep
bursts joy and new sun.

Two eyes sleepy, thin
Two hands seeking warmth, sun, source
Coffee to rescue

Dawn dark but coffee
black swirl in bottomless cup
brings me inner light

- Steven B. Smith

chalk drawing on coffee shop bathroom door - foto by smith

reflected smith - foto by smith

I’m in a comic book… finally I can live up to my image. Lady’s making comic books with her fotos and text. The first one’s CRIME IN MEXICO. now she’s doing the series HOW WE HOOKED UP and i’m in it because i’m half of we, probably the e.

Lady & Tramp application fotos - foto by smith

TO BE CONTINUED…