Exploring Themes of Belonging in the Fragmented Soul

The aircraft cracked in half, a seed-pod giving up its spores, an egg yielding its mystery. Two actors, prancing Gibreel and buttony, pursed Mr Saladin Chamcha, fell like titbits of tobacco from a broken old cigar. Above, behind, below them in the void there hung reclining seats, stereophonic headsets, drinks trolleys, motion discomfort receptacles, disembarkation cards, duty-free video games, braided caps, paper cups, blankets, oxygen masks. Also โ€“ for there had been more than a few migrants aboard, yes, quite a quantity of wives who had been grilled by reasonable, doing-their-job officials about the length of and distinguishing moles upon their husbandsโ€™ genitalia, a sufficiency of children upon whose legitimacy the British Government had cast its ever-reasonable doubts โ€“ mingling with the remnants of the plane, equally fragmented, equally absurd, there floated the debris of the soul, broken memories, sloughed-off selves, severed mother-tongues, violated privacies, untranslatable jokes, extinguished futures, lost loves, the forgotten meaning of hollow, booming words, land, belonging, home. Knocked a little silly by the blast, Gibreel and Saladin plummeted like bundles dropped by some carelessly open-beaked stork, and because Chamcha was going down head first, in the recommended position for babies entering the birth canal, he commenced to feel a low irritation at the otherโ€™s refusal to fall in plain fashion. Saladin nosedived while Farishta embraced air, hugging it with his arms and legs, a flailing, overwrought actor without techniques of restraint. Below, cloud-covered, awaiting their entrance, the slow congealed currents of the English Sleeve, the appointed zone of their watery reincarnation.

AI Assistant


The content is rich in imagery and symbolism, but it may benefit from a few adjustments for clarity and engagement. Here are some actions to consider:

1. **Clarify Imagery**: While vivid, some metaphors could be confusing. Consider simplifying or providing context for complex images.

2. **Vary Sentence Structure**: The text features long, intricate sentences. Introducing shorter sentences intermittently could enhance readability.

3. **Enhance Characterization**: Develop the characters further to help readers connect emotionally with Gibreel and Saladinโ€™s experiences.

4. **Strengthen Narrative Flow**: Ensure the transitions between ideas are smooth. This can help maintain reader engagement throughout the piece.

5. **Engage the Reader**: Introduce questions or insights that invite readers to reflect on the themes presented, enhancing their connection to the content.

By focusing on these aspects, the writing can become even more impactful and engaging.

An AI example of a generated title and suggestion for Salmon Rushdie’s writing.

The dumbing down of America.

The title is AI generated as well. Just think how creative Salmon could be with the help of AI.

PS – there are added tags. AI generated. Artificial.

Of course, most US citizens don’t read. Therefore, who cares.

Salmon Rushdies writing is breathtaking and out of reach for the average reader as is Tom Robbins, Isabella Allende, Toni Morrison, Djuana Barnes.

***This has been an experiment. AI improvement on the writing of Salmon Rushdie. AI is great if you do not know how to write. It’s great if you don’t know how to edit. And it’s wonderful for those that need pablum. AI has a purpose.

No One is Beyond Repair

Cleo entered the Holiday Inn Hotel room. The curtains drawn, creating a darkness in the room. Johanna laid in the bed. Her face was black, from a vicious beating, but she smiled. “Hey there,” she said.

The room of Cleo’s mind was like usual. Quiet and observing.

The Skinny Boy was happy. He and Johanna had been playing cards. Cards spread on the bed’s blanket, covering her ribs that were as battered as her face. The target of Cleo’s father’s shiny patten leather shoes. The shoes that she loved to polish to make him happy. Anything to make him happy.

An impossible task.

We, myself and my sister were shuffled off to the bowling alley next door, where we tossed the balls in a most serious manner for three days. They knew how to bowl. Johanna had made sure they had lessons. Bowling. Ah. It sucks. But Johanna had bowled a 300. The trophy resting over their fireplace at home. Cleo would never be her mother’s young protege. She tried but she had a penchant for the gutter.

Continue reading No One is Beyond Repair

Soul Sale

My soul is not for sale.

Cells are whirling. Balls are flying, Trees are snatched by the roots and tossed. I feel the race,
once again.

The winds change
I live in the lull
I sit in silence

No dream today
not yet

mind and body
push and pull

white sand and oil
smiles abound

Who are these teeth?

That SMILE



Granny Grunt Goes Fishing

I graduated with a BFA in figure painting in 1996. When I left the university some teachers were complaining that the students wouldn’t even bother to draw. “Why should we? We can just trace.”

I left the convenience of a studio I had created. I walked away from the world I knew to go surfing and to live in CR. There has been one adventure/blustering sand filled, mud slung piece of hell after another. With rays from heaven piercing the clouds, like arrows, to my soul. And now here I am.

Fish Eye. Looking at the big picture.

I’m looking back. It’s hard to believe.

Continue reading Granny Grunt Goes Fishing

howl

The first monkey let out its howl. It’s 5:41. Their howl is more like a growl. They are relatively small monkeys and their voice, made big, is surely some sort of evolutionary protection.

Evolutionary protection.

We could all use a pound or two of that right now.

The howl/growl has now become cacaphonic.

A lot like people life.

There’s obviously a leader. He won’t shut up. The tweets of the birds are reminiscent of the media. Different tones and paces. More chime in. Different voices. Layered.

As the cool, fresh, clean air comes through the doorway. I hear the crash of the waves.

HOWL!

What’s next?

I don’t know.

And neither does anyone else.

I have no clear sense of direction. How could I? One does certain things in life, expecting things to occur. The results of your hard work and perseverance. MML That just doesn’t work for me. I truly have to live my life one day at a time.

Exodus

My story is not one of arriving into the paradise of Tamarindo, 2024. Mine is one of running.

When I first became acquainted with the wild remote nature of Costa Rica, my world changed. The streets were dusty and bare. I would see the same hard bodied, man bunned, tattooed fellow in the street, on each trip to town. He would be walking down the hill. One man, one car – ours. It was a different world. 

Continue reading Exodus

Rocking Guanacaste

I have not been interested in writing in this blog for a while. I am once again making my way south. On my trip home I had a good time and a bad time.

The Island was Hard to fit in.

My tenant experienced; a hate crime. Our illustrious Sheriff Bill has once again allowed a meth lab into the neighborhood. Breaking bad in Yulee Hills.

This is life these days.

I just shake my head and drive slow.

I want to get back to the things I enjoy. But I find myself just trying to stay alive.

AI will not quit interfering with me. What do I need them for? They are fake.

As I read. the Grand Inquisitor. I know. This is us.

Fools. Europeans, Russians, everyone demanding.

Bad food.

In the distance I hear a band. Tourist come to over eat – get drunk.

No one wanted to come to Costa Rica when it was a nature zone. Now many of the Costa Ricans have been stripped of their “pure vida” lives. Progress is here.

I just wanted to write, to write.

What am I going to do next? What will I be allowed to do. The freedom once here is now policed – yet there is no police. What was once free is costly, extravagant, pricey and high.

And yet somehow, I make the best of it. Yesterday, I felt like I was on a beautiful vacation.

Now matter how bad things get. With the right frame of mind, patience and perseverance, you can be a winner.

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner – Get it while it’s hot – The fried skin will likely kill you. but who cares.

We are all dying,.

A Hog will eat Itself

This Little Piggy went to a meeting…

I was so grateful to the woman that shared every word I spoke was in her heart. – If I help one person. Including me, I’m doing good.

On the Road Again

It’s 4 in the morning. Once again, I am hitting the road. A ride with a friend, to the airport, to Atlanta, switch luggage. Re-enter the country. On to Jax. Be met by a happy leprechaun who will speak with a brogue and inform us, in a light hearted yet serious manner, the antics, adventures and misadventures, of our island. Amelia.

This has been an extensive stay, here in Surfside, Costa Rica.

I never in my imagination could have come up with the life style that I now lead.

I was taught by the best.

  1. Don’t be in a hurry.
  2. Don’t follow the crowd.
  3. Your health is you wealth.
  4. Love yourself and others.
  5. God is good. God is everywhere.
  6. Pay your bills.
  7. Know you are powerless.
    a. if you don’t think that you are, speak to someone who has lost everything due to catastrophic weather
  8. Don’t worry be happy.
  9. Be clean.
  10. Eat right – sleep good

    Enjoy the trip. We have hurricanes brewing. And coffee. And books. And love.