Pulp Buddhism asks what happened to Apo Gaga kid in the pictures

Picture of Apo Gaga at 14 years old who must have thought he had escaped captivity when he arrived in India, but his troubles had only just begun

I think the author of this fiction is dying.

For those who have been following his situation.

Khenpo Karthar said he didn’t see him dying anytime soon, but that was five years ago.

Anyway, it must be this autumn weather.

St Bruno, Quebec, the authors home town had its first snow the other day.

He misses his childhood home most of all this time of year, another winter in a northern city, Chicago, which is nice, but no Montreal when it comes to winter weather, will be upon us soon enough, kind, sir, all in good time.

Where were we?

From the top.

“I don’t know what to think any more.”

Karl continues.

“Virginia, more than myself was all about Ogyen Trinley Dorje as a child, Apo Gaga, the nomad child.”

Karl pauses.

“We all made the trek together with Rinpoche to Tsurphu monastary in Tibet, I mean occupied Tibet.”

Virginia replies.

“Karl is my first husband, I’m happily single, as is Karl, as is my second husband I might add.”

Virginia continues.

“My second husband, who prefers to remain nameless, a software engineer, was a most generous man.”

Virginia pauses.

“But that’s another story.”

End scene. Fini.

Another episode of Pulp Buddhism brought to you by the Naropa Prairie Dog Players and by readers like you, thank you for your support.



Filed under Buddhism

4 responses to “Pulp Buddhism asks what happened to Apo Gaga kid in the pictures

  1. Not to be too philosophical or morbid but, technically, we are all dying. With him knowing you, maybe he meant that you are more the living type. What’s with that anyway – the term dying – reserved just for the sick and aging. My Mom’s been sick/dying for at least a decade. She nearly put herself in kidney failure just about a month ago. I like to say she is dying because she is so unpredictable about living. One day, she’s running around being herself and the next day she’s in bed and doesn’t want to answer the phone. I don’t really know how your day goes but I have a hard time picturing you like that. Just some thoughts I am having and I hope you don’t mind me sharing.

    • Not at all.

      One day you are fine. You get sick. You don’t get better. This is how it goes.

      The old man makes the best of it.

      His son’s wedding was something for him to look forward to.

      At least he has Pulp Buddhism, the Naropa Prairie Dog Players to amuse himself with here.

      To be continued.

  2. Dying is a topic on my mind because both my parents are in their 70’s with health issues.

    I loved New Orleans. The air is thick there and rich with history somehow. Not knowing there was even a chance of a hurricane, I went there a week before Katrina hit. I guess I should have checked the weather. I remember my niece and I standing on a triangle strip between two streets waiting for a trolley to come. The sun was blazing hot and clouds were looming far off in the distance. We were so hot, we both prayed those clouds would bring cooling rain to us. Now we joke that her and I together have to be careful what we wish for.

    We had a good time. A week later, we watched the hurricane hit on the news. We watched everyone piling into the stadium we had just driven past. We heard how the the Botanic Gardens the we had just seen were washed away. We listened to them tell us the animals in the zoo we just visited, were all moved out. And on and on. It was probably the most surreal experience of my life.

    I’d love to go back there though. It was really a wonderful place. Except, a little hot.

    • The old man’s son had decided he wanted to build houses with Jimmy Carter in New Orleans after he graduated highschool.

      He was in New Orleans when Katrina hit, returned to rebuild it afterwards, and has been living down there ever since.

      He manages a bar there called 12 Mile Limit.

      As long as his son is happy, the old man is happy.

      It sure is hot down there.

      A lot of impermanence to be contemplated there, too.

      It is only a matter of time before there is another storm.

      The old man and Babs are happy to be back in Chicago though.

      Perhaps the Cubs could win tonight against the Mets.

      That would be something for the old man to cheer about.

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