The late editorial for Loving SEA – Issue #23
There was a mistake in the issues which were sent out to you by email on the 1st of July and we apologize for that. Due to a personal issue Boris had to travel to France and didn’t have the time to write the editorial, we were able however to deliver the submissions from our dear artists on time. Here is what should have been the editorial for the latest issue out: Loving SEA #23 As mentioned earlier this will be updated in the issue we’ll upload on the website:
In Thailand, home of bkk UNZINE we are never too far from the SEA as a matter of fact you are in SEA as in SouthEast Asia, you’ll see we will get to that later in the month stay tuned on our youtube channel bkkunzine for an important interview. We believe that we create as a way to imitate nature because nature creates in the most liberated ways which are still mysterious to the human mind. When we say “imitate” it means in the act of creation itself not just representing what we see and feel. Therefore, it is natural for us to see ourselves in Nature and Sea is and endless source of inspiration as you’ll see in our new issue #23. There is no doubt that
PS: it’s our second year anniversary in September.
Maia, Jam, Venky, Boris
Artists in this issue
Ban Rak Sun
War Poem Canto III
What he, the deceased was
To me I am not sure —
A belligerent fiend,
(who it was that was not,
I would not know), who still
In this war called me by
My name, occasionally
Asking me how I was
When no one else did–friend
Of sorts; and as of now
Now an erstwhile being,
Now as though never having been,
His essence as much as a fiction
Imagined more as an
Overlapping of faces, more a
Composite of men I killed,
And yet, non-entity that he is,
He slid into the trench
Where I was
Wedging himself into life and mind
Which deserved disturbing–
In aftershock and travail
From firing and being fired upon
Was the torture of thought–
With healing a misnomer,
There was only amputation of dead flesh
Where flesh was concerned,
And if the whole of that which was mislabelled as soul
Were to fall inert, dead as it were, although death
Even by flesh, was incremental,
The corpse still replicating cells
In some regions hours and even days later,
It, the “soul”–whatever it was–it too, when dead
Could never be fully revived as a whole,
Even if one, as an automaton,
Were able to carry on with motions and commerce
That sustained one’s existence.
But at the ocean, I responded,
I could be revived there.
To be in this state–
Reacting to orders, yes Sir!, and
To instincts for survival, yes sir,
Shutting off thought
The best that can be done,
I was probably in this state already–
Soon to be
Does not come physically
From all of this
To carry this miscarriage
Like a dead fetus, albeit throughout his life,
And not merely months of that which should have been gestation–
Actually it should be a lifetime of gestation and bifurcating growth,
Each entity having innate worth instead of just being an
Accident of conception (but in this world the lucky, so to speak,
Are accidents of conception with most seeds blowing
On the top layer of the hardened arid Earth
That is rarely open to them) .
With those not starving experiencing the mange
Of indifference toward those who are, the soul
Is in continual decay.
Even if the death of the soul as a composite was complete,
Of the undergirding of the girth of the animation of self
Would be slow and insidious
As any decomposition.
But at the ocean, I responded,
I could be revived there.
It, he, the deceased, had slid into the trench,
Dirt, decomposed matter,
Falling into my cup of water, making it into a sullied
Tea to which I pulled out the sodden leaves.
“What are you thinking?” he asked me.
“You are supposed to be dead,” I said.
“What is death? Everything
In this seemingly concrete
But ever fluid dimension is
As solid as matter,
Electromagnetic energy coalesced, gets,
But only for a time.
What are you thinking about?”
“Many things, I suppose.
You–your death; those whom I murdered; Mariupol.”
“Such stages of death happen to men like me, like you,
Who had been conditioned to believe
And believe fervently,
In these contrived, socially conditioned
Nonsensical abstractions of
State, democracy, country, and freedom” the man,
The erstwhile entity, said,
But his saying having no relevance
When one “now” stacks on another
Like decomposing corpses, or
Like layers of sediment in
The Earth’s soil
That the creatures of now trod upon.
Still, he was right that there was no freedom
In being dead.
“As for the city, it is no more,” he said.
“If you have relatives there, they are no more too.”
“What is no more?” I retorted.
He smiled. “True enough. The lost come back in another form.
Energy to matter, matter to energy.
Are you ruminating on the Russian destruction of Mariupol?”
“No, I am thinking of the ocean
Around this once great city. ”
“The frothy harmony?”
“Yes. How it mixed with sand and
Molded about my toes when I used to
Walk along the beach
As a boy. ”
“Vastness like a universe
Slushing onto shores rhythmically,
Even delicately? ”
“Yes,” I said.
“It is a mirage, you know—the harmony.”
“How do you mean? ”
“The man drinking tea of dirt,
Waiting for his death
In a World War I-like trench
As the Russians come for him,
Asks what I mean.
Take a garden or a park, nature
Reassembled by man
To look harmonious to men,
It is a
Of flood, drought, and predation
For the worm.
Only the human mind makes
The ocean harmonious
Because it needs to.”
” And for a time
You live harmoniously within the trenches of my mind. “
” Yes, only that, ” he admitted
Before vanishing entirely.
Alone, I drink the sullied water
That we label as “tea,”
It’s ocean slamming
The rim of the metal cup
In my trembling hand.
Liquid force slams upon
The shore, eroding rock
To sand, and deeper in
Were those under-tows, rogue
waves, sharks, leviathans
Of every conception.
The mind imagines har-
Mony in oceans when
There is none.
Under the SEA-CRET Helmet
The Long-tail Lot
Digital Image: DSLR Image, Rebel T6I
This is a picture of Koh Lipe Island. This particular image is of a parking spot for fisherman and long-tail taxis that live/work in or around the island.
Koh Lipe is located on the Andaman Sea. I’ve spent some time here and have fond memories with some really great people! I I took this photo looking at Koh Lipe from Kra Island.
Two faces of the sea
The Queen of the sea
Video edited in LumaFusion on iPad – shot with
Video edit of one the whale shark which comes to visit us regularly during our free dive training. I filmed this video with a Go Pro 7 and edited it with LumaFusion on iPad after some color correction. Despite that you can see some scuba divers around, I filmed this video completely on breath hold as I am a free diver.