Define: Auctioneer

An auctioneer is one who transforms the English language into Arabic by a fluid continuity of phonemes.

Peace. ...and...

"Wow, poor trucker"
This was the single thought as i looked over my shoulder from the wet pavement.
My sliding slowed before i had fully crossed the highway, and muscles went into survival mode, twisting my body so it would catch and roll onto the inside shoulder out of the flow of traffic.
Stood up. Wheel stopped, engine died. Flooded? Shut off the fuel petcock. Looked 'upstream'.
"Oh Lord, please; no police."
Nobody hurt and no damaged property except my own handlebars and pride.
At a break in traffic Curious George rolled Attila the Fun to the Man with the Yellow Pickup.
He picked us up.

Now what am i here for?

A Moment of Truth

I settled down before the flatscreen monitor. My eyelids drooped and shoulders crept up in anticipation. Of what? A stupor that comes of time passing by without my attention to anything i really care about.
'So what will i do this time?' i ask myself to arrest the pattern.
The sun is out and this winter afternoon is not dead yet, so i'll use this time while the kettle boils to write a tidbit.
Life is here now. The internet may present most of the knowledge accumulated by humanity right here at my fingertips. What will i do, shop for gear that i don't have money for on ebay?
Or create something tiny to unknown effect?

Hang Drum at Pinnacle

Last Saturday i passed a very special hour curled up against the October wind on a rock near the one Dante Bucci is seated on in this video.

Not Weed?

Like Locro de Papa, this potato soup fog couldn't be creamier if they pureed the sunshine. I miss that Andean treat topped with avocado slices. Even the dead droughty corn stalks look soft this morning as i'm transported a continent away.
Yesterday i was stuck in traffic approaching an overpass in our local concrete jungle and my olfactory sensibilities were awakened from their depressed state by a heavenly aroma. Leaning out the window of the old white beast, i closed my eyes and inhaled again.
Leaves scritch against each other, bees forage, and garbage rustles along the pavement imitating windblown forest litter.
The messenger? One of those noxious invasive species of plants once thought to be ornamental or useful. Imported back when people didn't know better, of course. Japanese knotweed (Fallopia japonica) blossoms smell nice even when you're not among a line of commuters belching the nitrates it probably enjoys.
If you find this friend growing along a stream that has only animals fouling it (no industrial or pesticide runnoff, and not within fifty feet of a road) pluck a tender shoot and take a bite. With a zing like sourgrass/heart clover/wood sorrel that takes you back to a nice moment in childhood, this one is much more substantial so you can make salads comprising lemon juice, salt, grape tomatoes, avocado pear, feta cheese, black walnut crumbs, whatever. If you're really blessed, like some disgruntled gardeners i know, it will burst energetically through your vegetable patch, and you will now know what to do with that foreigner whose smooth pale roots reach clear through the earth to their native Asia: Feast!
Then again, if you are more pharmacologically inclined, you could refine and sell Resveratrol to your neighbors, and make sure they don't pronounce it as though it has the word 'reserve' in it.

Power Trip

Tripping can refer to various things: mushrooms, uneven sidewalks, guilt and pop-up campers, to name but a few.
Petrol is my personal 'favorite'.
Actually, wilting in a malodorous cloud of invisible vapor is most nauseating, and it happens all too regularly. Walking is ever so much more appreciated when i've been filling a 20 gallon tank at prices near $4 per gallon.
Still, there is something quite titillating about the sensation of an accelerator pedal, and how little pressure is required to command such immense forces.
Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan had nothing on the average SUV driving soccer mom.
Okay, so maybe that's taking it a little far, but seriously, have you ever pedaled a bicycle up a steep or long hill, or both?
Try accelerating to all of fifteen or twenty-five miles per hour on a dead flat piece of road, and notice the effort. Carry a tiny backpack and feel the difference made by six pounds of energy bars, gorp and bear spray for slobbering dogs. Multiply that by a factor of 500... and let it sink in next time you lurch out from an intersection just to get ahead of that slowpoke there. Oh, and square the velocity.
If i ever get Attila the Fun street-legal, i'll be fully conscious (at least occasionally) of the power apparently at my disposal. ...And i will thoroughly enjoy it.

Banditos - updated

Okay, so i haven´t actually heard that term used here, but it seems appropriate.
Tuesday morning i was riding a bus from a provincial town to a big city. Shortly after getting out into the tropical countryside, anxious voices disturbed my attempts at rest. The majority of the passengers appeared to be deep in slumber. It was nearly two a.m. and many of them were already asleep when i embarked, having an hour behind them and five more to go.
"Interesting," went the commentary in my head. "So this guy with a knife is demanding money of the guy seated next to me. I wonder what he´ll do?"
Slowly the lights in my head came on, though those in the bus didn´t.
"¡No aprende la luz! ¡No aprende la luz!" "Don´t turn on the lights!" in staccato Spanish muffled by the partition between the main cabin and the front.
to be continued...
And then...
(Get up, stretch, find a window or actually step outside for a breath of air, and come back after the commercial break)
The man skipped me and went back down the aisle of the bus demanding money and cell phones of everyone, before coming back to me.
In the meantime the passenger next to me motioned to stuff my wallet between the seats surreptitiously. I did so, with slight misgivings.
When our driver was ordered to turn off the main road and we commenced at a jarring pace along a dusty lane, i envisioned coming to a stop, tossing my wallet out the window, and collecting it later.
In fact that may have saved me the trouble of canceling a debit card and replacing my license and missing my flight due to being penniless and dejected at the airport.
But, i didn't.
Also, i didn't resist. "All we like sheep" simply obliged these anxious 'businessmen.'
Really, i think they might improve their customer service a bit. I'd rate them a two out of ten.
No one was hurt, though, so for operational safety i'll give them a ten.
Was the driver in on it? Were they concealing more lethal weaponry than the knives and machete used for intimidation?
I may never know.
It certainly makes for a great story, especially if you ask for more details...
For instance, imagine the conversations that happened at each troll booth when the driver didn't even have spare change to give them. It took no less than five minutes for him to convince the trolls to raise the arm-of-no-passage.
Oh, and the three ladrones disappeared into the night with their backpacks loaded with cash and phones, leaving us to turn the bus around on the one lane dirt road with drainage ditches on either side. By then my adrenaline was pouring on faster than the diesel, and after pushing sideways on the front, wheels spinning, with ten other men, i sprinted alongside the accelerating bus, last to board and give the all clear.
Chau Amigos, hope to see you in other circumstances next time!