Peter J. Greico

I WISH I COULD WRITE
I wish I could write more sweetlyof my life these days. There’s lots of itthat’s not half bad. The work,
the involvement, my own bit of romance. But whatever it is that haunts mestill haunts me. The discomforts of Seoul
in its best season, the daily stress & strainof a city from hell, inhabited by a trulyinscrutable people, this place
without ten minutes peace, forces meinto a sort of active loneliness,all too hard to describe.

THE ZEN OF SELLING
The Zen of selling was told by a Venetian girl: She used to sell swords in San Marco. She neversold a shaving mirror, till one day she sold four. There’s a kind of energy, you see,the kind that brings us togetherthis evening, spontaneously. Anothertime she was selling expensive bible sets,for weeks without luck. Then she tookan intensive training course. One must learnto read the dream of each person, her house,her character, a stray photograph—& convinceher that fulfillment is in what sheis being sold. It worked! She enjoyedvisiting many families, as many as 20in a day, reading their dreams. Thenone day a man answered the doorwho had been running the vacuum cleaner. The Venetian girl had always wanted one like that. No problem, the man’s brother-in-law sells themdoor-to-door. She must have one! It was the Zen of selling.