“A Nice Moment At The Asian Eatery” (A Blog Post)

And so this was the last task to do. The annual greeting card giving. I usually only do one – & it goes to the ‘asian eatery’ (as I call it) – my regular hangout. I get a great personalised $20 deal – I am a choice of allowed 4 items – Nasi Goreng / Sweet & Sour Pork / Works burger / Crispy Chicken. All options come with quality beer – I get Steinlager or Ashahi if its in stock.

Anyway, I digress.

So I make the greeting card – I have water colors & ink etc. -The final image is a ‘fat sunglasses wearing santa’ with his shirt off. In one hand is a beer bottle & the other is ‘Santa Sack (full of ‘prezzies’). Santa saying that he is quiting because he’d rather go to the ‘asian eatery’. At the bottom of the image there is a rat that says “Santa you lazy bastard”.

I drop off the card – which must be my seventh in a row by now (??). Because of the language/cultural barrier the main owner lady (lets call her ‘Vicki’) needs me to explain it. The joke is that ‘fat santa’ is actually me. We laugh.

While this is going on I notice a father & his daughter sitting & having food – they are chinese as well. I show the card to the little girl & she likes it. I introduce. He is ‘Barry’ who is working at a major university here, visiting from China. His daughter is ‘Angelica’ (not their real names). The asian eatery owner – Vicki has given me a box of chocolates (the usual gift in return) which I offer one to both father & daughter – they oblige. I offer another but the Father I presume is weight conscious, so declines (he is rake thin & I joke that he could use fattening up).

He askes me a little about what I do & I explain my day job instead of my highest interests (writing, studying, reading, drawing etc). I am a kiwi & we talk ourselves down – probably a very bad trait. The father – ‘Barry’ says I should visit China some time. I say I’d like to. We say our goodbyes. They leave to go back to their car to go back to their normal lives. I wonder if the mother is with them in NZ? I assume so given separation/divorce doesn’t really happen in Chinese culture (unlike it’s normality in the West).

I sit & start eating my fish & chips. I have a book on the table – poetry. It has a crappy bookmark. lo & behold the little girl (perhaps 7 years old) comes & gives me a Chinese ornamental book-mark as a gift (the ones housed in plastic). I say thankyou that’s great as I need a better bookmark. The little girl has a real kindness to her. She has a little soft toy lamb in her arms & I ask her if it has a name – she says no, so I say ‘you could call it ‘Bleetie’ – I’m not sure if she understood its relevance. I said thankyou & goodbye.

As I put some soy sauce on on my battered fish, I thought that that was a really lovely thing that just happened. It warmed my sometimes too also ‘battered’ weary 47-year-olds heart more than a little. The Chinese are not perfect, but I admire that they try to be polite as much as possible. We’ve lost that too much in the West I think.

I hope Barry & Angelica have a good time in NZ. I hope the artificial intelligence he is working on doesn’t all put half the world out of work by 2030. But then my day job is shifting dirt, cutting lawns & banging nails – so I should be ok at least until age 62 in 2040. And who knows maybe I’ll be a proper ‘quirky, niche partially sought after by humans, non-AI cottage industry human writer’ by 2032.

But I know that the future will be what it will be, but today was very ‘humanly nice’, you might say.

Merry Xmas Y’all!

Anton Martin

‘Which Way’ Ink & Wash Illustration by M.A. Smith 12.5cm x 17cm

“The Ballad Of Low Self Esteem” (A Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Their was once a land far far away,

Full of people with gnarled, wrinkly faces – even the young.

A land of ‘downward trending’ smiles & lost tempers.

It was a sad place – for it never learnt how to do anything.

This was because the peoplesfolk had abjectly low self-esteem.

You couldn’t tell them anything, for they took it the wrong way – as a sleight.

Slowly they became more backward than they were the year before, & the year before that.

Some wag once said a very funny comment when pressed on the problem of the matter:

“Why would we change – for if we continue to be move backwards,

Eventually the worst that will happen is we will return to our starting point”.

Another one said:

“Sure we have low self esteem, nothing works, crimes up & our economies in the dustbin BUT”

And I said “But what” then they said

“But…But…imagine if we had too high self esteem – that would be worse as a society”.

I said “why is that”, to which they replied

“Well then we’ll get in over our heads won’t we” they said.

Then I said “what about the saying better to try & fail than never try at all”?

Flustered they then looked at their phone nervousy & said:

“No Sir it is better to not try at all & in the future tell of your wimpery to another wimp”

“Why’s that” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘Misery love company’ “?

“Yes I have” I said.

“Well I’d be too lonely if I was a go getter – I’ll stay miserable with lots of friends thanks”.

The weird thing is that after they said this, it was the most confidant I’d ever seen them look.

As they walked away with a swagger, I made a mental note to make sure I leave this town tomorrow.

They are all far to comfortable with their entrenched culture of low self-esteem.

After all – it is almost certainly just another undiscovered form of insanity.

Even if it is indeed as comfortable as they made out.

And I wonder if I’ll actually ever leave.

Perhaps I am one of them, & simply deluding myself to the contrary.

Sadly, this is not the first time I have wondered about this, & it won’t be the last.

This was ‘the ballad of low-self esteem’.

Out now, never-ending, & everywhere you look.

“If The Results Are Good” (A prose Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

A Gas-station coffee run it is.

“I’d like a flat white please”, I request.

“Do you wan’t sugar?”, she queries.

“No honey”, I say cheerily.

“If you keep talking like that you’ll get it served in your face!”

She is serious.

Her face is contorted, pained.

She’s in her 50s she has grey dreadlocked hair, a face lined by a share of hard times.

Up until that moment our customer to customer service relations had been friendly enough, perfunctory.

Aiming to quickly diffuse the moment I apologize.

“Oh sorry I didn’t mean anything by that, I didn’t mean to offend…I must be getting old”.

It seemingly half works – after all scolding hot coffee has not hit my face, has it not?

“Would you like a marshmallow?” She says in a as-per-standard-question way.

“No thanks” I say, wondering why she is offering marshmallows for a flat white.

She finishes & hands the coffee over.

I matter-of-factly pay, & leave to my awaiting vehicle which with my ‘ troublesome coffee’ in hand.

As I drive away wearing sunglasses, I glance in to see the counter area.

I’m ascertaining the body language after the unsavory event.

The other staff member that had witnessed it all is looking at me black faced – I take that as a minor win.

The one who served me is obscured.

As I post-mortum the situation – my internal narrative is of two strands:

One is self serving:

“Geez some people can’t control their emotions at all, why no sense of humor – especially in that role”

The other is of a negative bent:

“Oh no you’ve put your foot in it again – why did you say that you fool – ‘no honey’…Geez!“.

As I drive away to my home, I take a sip of the “troublesome coffee”.

I now know why she offered a marshmallow after I ordered.

The sweet taste is sickening.

It is very much a hot chocolate, & not a flat white.

So she has either intentionally or unintentionally punished me on the spot.

I do half a u-turn & then I think better of it & abandon the u-turn.

I’m again driving home.

I’m feeling a little mentally deflated about it all – not that it’s a big deal or anything.

When I enter my driveway I park & disembark & I suddenly perk up a notch.

“Ah…This is good writing material!” I have suddenly realized.

“Thank god I took up writing!” I say to myself with relief.

Writing really has added so many silver linings to the blackest of social thunderclouds that abound.

Of course the worry about this phenomena is that you will create drama in order to write about it.

I wonder – Am I already do this without knowing it?

the problem is of course. as they say – an old chestnut – but is it good or bad?

Well, I cannot categorically answer that – as the answer embodies a conflict of interest.

But as an imperfect, rough & contaminated answer I will say this:

If the results are good…

“Soldiers Of The Abyss (& how to best survive them)” (A Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

They’ve only ever followed orders – poorly so – in life’s institutions.

At School they were mediocre,

At the office they forced you do all their work,

While you slowly burnt out,

Punished for your ‘Voluntary Pseudo-Parentalism’.

They hate you because you helped them.

They must always ‘bite the hand that feeds’.

They hate that you can create – something impossible for them,

For they have ventured so far down into the abyss of ‘the banality zone’.

They could be 23, 38, 53 or about to retire at 64 –

It doesn’t matter because they cannot emotionally mature.

They the denizens of 21st Century offices everywhere are time warped.

They are the inner city everyman, whose ancestors were exactly the same through the ages.

They are the personification of the adage ‘No good deed goes unpunished’.

And you can’t escape them.

They are around you by design.

They’re there to drag you down to their level –

They are ‘The boring, The Mean, The stupid & Uncreative’.

They are your punishment for living, for not being born to the right bloodline.

In there own minds they are ‘cool’ – & definitely to good for you.

For they do not see the wealth evidence to the contrary –

Ignorance is bliss & it fuels their ‘backward cognitive dissonance-land’.

Where all that is good must be bad,

Whereby anyone emanating anything good, original, or interesting is to be marked as ‘the enemy’.

This the everyman in the urban wastelands that about everywhere.

They are your curse.

Befriend them at your peril.

Unfortunately you must learn this the hard way.

With age you will learn to keep them at arms length,

To varying degrees of success.

They do not give up on their prey easily.

And if you’re not on your game, in your quest to combat them –

You might end up becoming one of them yourself.

Which incidentaly – they will not like either.

For they are so perfectly debased – that they also hate their fellow ‘soldiers of the abyss’.

And p.s. – becoming a total recluse is no solution.

You can only carry your wound-full arrows as a badge of honor.

You must at all costs remain you.

For surely that is all you really truly have.

I repeat:

Always beware the ‘soldiers of the abyss’.

They are everywhere.

And remember – there is one ultimate enlightening Truth

True Darkness will not and cannot prevail over all that is Good.

An update from the writer (+ other whimsy-like anecdotes).

By Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Well, we are hurtling to the end on 2025. Here the weather is getting hot – which as all arty people know – is bad for being artistically productive. The extra energy that the air brings takes away the top 5% brain function that good art requires.

This is why I haven’t posted for a long ten odd days now – so this is the perfect time for a ‘update post’ – it’s all filler but interesting none the less! (I hope).

Let me start with a little larf. Today I had a couple of laboring jobs, & as is my habit, I go to my local Chinese restaurant afterthe day is over for a tasty feed & a beer (I usually get a beer & a plate of Nasi-goreng for $20 0 a good deal eh?). As I have mentioned I like to have a chat with the staff, & I am basically a “VIP” there. What can I say – must be my natural charm (or is it the free english lessons & the cash from my wallet? yes probably that). Anyway today the interaction went like this:

“Hello Anton, do you want some cold water”

“Yes Yein that would be great – I’m parched”

“What does “parched” mean Anton?”

“I’ll tell you later, I’m too tired to explain”

“That’s ok – take a seat”

(I take my usual seat & she brings over a glass bottle of very cold chilled water. I open it pour some and take a quenching gulp).

“Ah that’s good, thanks Yien – it’s nice & cold too”

“Did you know in China we don’t like our water cold? We even have a saying for how warm water is better for you”

“Really? We in NZ have saying about drinking warm water too”

“Really??”

“Yes it goes like this….’We in NZ used to drink our water warm….BUT WE’RE NOT IN CHINA ANYMORE, ARE WE!!!”

Yien laughed at this bad, somewhat Americanised joke (Or shoudl I say ‘Americanized’), and I soon ate my usual tasty Nasi Goreng + cold beer (I usually prefer Asahi, or Steinlager, but this time I had a Heineken as they had run out),

Anyway so that was nice to hear someone laugh today. I told my mother the joke I made & she thought it was a bad joke (Mothers are always so brutally honest aren’t they).

I think I’ll leave it at that – other than to say that this year is the 5th year of my blog & as far as views/visits it’s been a record year by quite a margin – I think they are up by at least by 75% this year.

Thankyou to all the readers – yes there is a lot of bad stuff – but every now and then there is something ok or good (I hope). I am thinking more ‘slice of my life in my home town’ angles will be coming next year – the truth & small-town-grounded-ness angle really adds some intimacy I think.

Cheers & keep writing & reading – a great thing to do (lets do it while pens, paper, & keyboard clacks & characters on screens still exist!).

Yours Anton Martin Smith 8 Dec 11:36PM, Central Otago South Island NZ.

“A Fate Worse Than Death” (A Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com

In any human society with a culture – there are three overarching mental states:

Life

Death

Anti-Life

The most advanced cultures mostly embrace ‘Life’ & so thrive the most.

The stock average culture has large doses of the second & third contaminating the first but gets by.

The most fucked up cultures are too stupid to know how badly ‘Anti-Life’ they have become, these are the forever hell-holes.

Oh & come to think of it – this also works on the individual level too.

So even in all the Earth’s paradise’s there can still yet be demons,

And in even in all the Earth’s Hells their can still be angels.

‘Everyday life’ is a very strange thing indeed.

(& don’t let some fool tell you it ain’t).

Special Philosophical Post……’Our Mental Life’

by Anton martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Sometimes I like to write essays or articles – usually they just pop into existence like a quantum particle. They arrive when they arrive. Because they are often ‘long winded’ vs ‘artistic’, I coral them all on another site – which has very little following (requires too much mental attention you see).

Below is the opening few lines & a link to the whole article – should you be interested in Philosophical musings…….

There’s a saying about when you level up your biggest enemy/s comes from a person in your inner circle, and you biggest champion comes from a complete stranger.

It’s a very interesting little saying…….

Read The rest of this post by clicking link below:

“Deadly De-Facto’s” (A Poem)

by Anton MartinSmith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

They are not ‘chilling’ at all..

They are avoiding life itself.

By avoiding all chances of pain,

They also killed the oasis’ of creativity,

That the world delivers only haphazardly.

They murdered their ‘pals of camaraderie’ –

Most of who existed but were never summoned.

For how does a life become a-life-worthwhile?

Interestingly their pain simply compounded anyway.

At least the smarter ones involved at least knew to drink –

For if a fool’s errand doth live – then let it raise a glass to itself.

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.

“No! – Mans Best Friend is a Not a Dr…” (A Prose Poem)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Are You Seriously Unwell or Just Mega Jaded?

This is a serious question.

I am sure that in reality there is no difference.

After all surely the symptoms “Mega Jaded” qualify:

Brain Fog to the extreme;

Total lack of energy;

Zero Motivation;

Feelings of Depression;.

You may as well be diagnosed with Chronic-Fatigue-Syndrome, aka CFS

Or Multiple Sclerosis, aka MS.

Or the dreaded ‘God-Knows-What-Syndrome’, aka GKWS.

The problem is if you are just “Mega jaded”,

Which is really just a form of “Burnout” –

To which the sufferer’s complaints no one listens, let alone hands out ‘free passes’ for.

It’s not ‘fair’ but then again only the biggest fools expect life to be ‘fair’.

The Mega Jaded/Burnt out are told to “snap out of it loser”,

Usually & most frequently by the people who look the saddest when they smile.

While if you have CFS or MS you welcomed as a ‘cash cow’ by the ‘Medico Scammers’ –

Who are a variety of the ‘ look saddest when they smile fraternity’ –

Who are always hungry for Taxpayer Lobster Dinners – aka TLD’s.

So, if you are “Mega Jaded” you may as well get your free ‘Dr Lobster Diagnosis’ – aka D.L.D.

Let the ‘Cash Cow’ out of the milking sheds!

& when the ship finally goes down – it won’t matter anyway –

For The Lobsters will survive & the Doctors will die.

I’d call that an all-round societal win-win for all,

Including the Drs themselves,

Most of who are tired of ScamDoctoringTM anyway,

But the Medico-Mafia-System has their balls or ovaries in a formaldehyde-filled-jar.

A Cynical summation? – yes – but at least 51% entirely ‘scamftifically’ true,

& Poetically speaking – at least 100% true – which btw isn’t saying much.

And now it’s time to fly – but let me leave you with a final ‘surmisory’ penultimate witticism.

As the anti-Bob Dylan once never crooned -“Oh the times they are a un-changin’ “

& Ladies & Gents! To put the final boot – that may-in-time-one-day reach ‘adage status’:

No!!! – Mans Best Friend is a Not a Dr – Yet His Nose Is Just As Wet.

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.

“Frivolities At The Asian Eatery” ( A Poem/Prose).

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

It’s time for some Pork Donburi with Miso Soup

I think to myself as I cross the road.

The little Japanese eatery is now open late,

It’s a slice of urban chique in my sleepy-rural-small-town-hollow.

I wander in for value dinner, having spurned my regular Chinese haunt –

But only for tonight, just for a change.

For loyalty must be spliced with the spice of occasional dissent –

Less the proprietor becomes lazy toward you,

Less they take you for granted.

They must be regularly reminded you can still freely eat elsewhere.

Yes – in life there are always ‘games being played’,

& with age you realise games exist for good reason.

So, I order the Pork Donburi – nice ‘n’ spicey – with the miso soup, it goes down a treat.

On the way out I buy some cheap leftover counter sushi – the proprietor gives me some free chicken too.

I noticed that when serving the Korean man sang his words.

Now here-is-some-pork-donburi-for-yooou, now here is yooour change

I knew he was Korean, for I had asked him if he was Japanese, & he had corrected me.

I can’t remember how, but I ended up telling him that I was writing a novella.

I told him that ‘we writers’* often inject a real-life character we see out & about into our writing.

After I told him this, he said in child-like fashion (in a good sence) that he wanted to be put into my novel.

I told him that’s it’s mostly finished & the characters are set – but there was still a slim chance.

I warned that he’d to be interesting enough to be chosen to travel onto the pages of future fiction.

He said that he also sung Karaoke, aiming to gain my literary affections.

I said that that doesn’t cut it for a Novel, Novella or a Short Story – but he might make a poem.

“Poems are easy enough to make” I tell him.

He’s a good friendly guy, & his food is tasty & at good prices.

He probably works too hard yet everyday he still wears a genuine smile.

Which can’t be easy over the long term especially so with silence-loving-small-town-folk.

It’s only fair that I spend at last fifteen minutes whipping him up a free poem –

After all he’d given me some free spicey chicken, hadn’t he?

It’s a fair trade – spicey-but-still-tasty-leftover-sushi for some personalised-slice-of-life-poetry.

Plus, he’ll get a bonus smile next week when I read him his poem in person.

And if he surprisingly asks me:

“Praytell – why did this poem cross the road?”

I’ll know he’s not really the-singing-Korean-chef-with-a-Japanese-eatery-behind-the-counter-of-a-small town at all –

…perhaps something far far more sinister or perhaps even beautiful**

All-in-all I would summarise all this as the following spinning-newspaper-tabloid-headline:

“Deadbeat Poet Says Frivolities At The Asian Eateries Are Less Than Frivolous”.

*Yes, it sounds like I had my head up my own ass – I agree with you oh reader.

** when read in public this must be said with a theatrical nod, indicating an ulterior motive may be involved.