Potter's wand is too floppy for this flat end.

Perhaps it's because I finally got around to reading the Deathly Hallows before seeing Pt. 2, but man, the last movie lacked charisma. Why they decided to remove most of the dialogue in favor of quick, visual summations of book chapters, I just don't get. The human connection was entirely missing.

They could've brought back John Williams; they could have put a lot more love into the final installation! Instead, they chose flashy bullshit, devoid of respect for the content of the story and respect for the fans. Poop on you, David Yates!

Hasty & soulless and scored by a dull temp track, Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Pt 2 is a jumbled abbreviation of an an otherwise enjoyable literary epic. Why would anyone kid themselves that this was good? I'm glad I watched it for free on the Internets instead of paying $15 for another boring Hollywood noise collage.

I am the Lost Generation.

Who are we? This world is absurd, with it's religions and money-grabbing. All the dull cycles we allow ourselves to be trapped in, the power of belief that overwhelms our humanity, our intellect, our intuitive faculties, our easy capitulation to names and clubs and narrow political parties...
What are we to do here, on this beautiful planet, full of mysteries?
What are we to do with ourselves and Life?
Why were we created or pushed away from the Oneness?
Always, we try answering these questions by inventing things, controlling things, destroying things.
It is a relentless drive that we eventually may become numb to, or convince ourselves of our numbness, though it ceases not.
The endless details and possibilities of this Life keep many of us so busy, we don't take time to wonder where it's coming from, where we're going or why.
That, to me, is pitiful. But Life is mysterious and confusing.
Where do we go with all this potential, and what does it matter?
And are there any actions we can perform that are not purely egotistical?
Who am I without words or actions?
And shit, Hemingway committed suicide by shooting himself, point-blank, in the forehead with a shotgun he bought from Abercrombie & Fitch. He pulled two triggers while his head rested on the barrels. Shit.

Why'd ya hafta go an' do THAT, Ernie? Shit.

And Brautigan, and EVERYBODY...shit.

Too much drinky-drinky, methinks.

It's the Hummer Song!

Hummer

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Holiday Informercial Guillotine

and everything has happened before
and it's déjà vu each second coming

the wares plyed before my tired eyes -2 am now- flex & flaunt the daunting hours away
come astray with me, sculpt your boooty while building a house watching birds in the rollabout hay with purple rivers of papaya dreamjuice and fantasy flakes falling like snow
you know it's mighty and the boxes die in Bakersfield
i'm as giddy as a galley gadfly and my mustache is flying off my face in to the "no fly" zone-
a bone for sqealers, the feelers of cartire protection window break obsessions throwing their lives away
on days like this, who needs friendly fire?

i use a tiger's toes to brush my teeth
i corn the beef, fed rollo's to the great coral reef and Al Gore smacked that ass
what oh what a gas
please pass the turkey on the cross
wilderness crying bagels for tears
christmas tree Walmart fiction
a mere undistinguishable faction of fractionated palm-reading faggotry

i lie awake with basketballs inflating while i am waiting for girls' thunder to repproach me, my whistling gun slicing the air because i bring it near my hair when it grows time for a beating
they don't see it,
they primp only prance and touch their pockets
with candy-coated confetti high-heeled shoetocracies

thumbs to teeth to perfume department walkways where you can't breathe and it burns your eyes to look out to bother a sniff burns your very lungs into corporate domination

oh, you lose, you silly crackers and black-faced line chalkers

tell me who's got the points now, who's winning your stupid game today?

dollars drip like mercury through swearing thermometer hands

and onto the dry dead pavement of your muppet mother's corpscicle.

Title?

As an exercise first, I wrote whatever came to me -regardless of sense; non-sense writing, stream-of-well-you-know-what. I was haunted by it; led to anonymous byways of thought, punctured pinholes through constricting structures of reality until it became something else.
Now I bask, breathing slow, on beach sand and wonder. I choose my words too carefully.
I tempted the boundaries of sanity until the walls I taunted talked back.
I led an adventure into nowhere and I'm the only one who showed up to go. So I went. Cliffs of Despair, and all that. Things got forgotten.

this makes me smile:

Democrats warn Chavez: Don't bash Bush

POSTED: 5:33 p.m. EDT, September 21, 2006

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Two of President Bush's staunchest domestic critics leapt to his defense Thursday, a day after one of his fiercest foreign foes called him "the devil" in a scorching speech before the United Nations.

"You don't come into my country; you don't come into my congressional district and you don't condemn my president," Rep. Charles Rangel, D-New York, scolded Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez.

House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, D-California, was blunt in her criticism of the Venezuelan leader. "He is an everyday thug," she said. (Watch Rangel rip Chavez -- 1:28 )

Chavez kept up his criticism of Bush during a visit to Harlem on Thursday, calling the U.S. president "a sick man" who is unqualified for the job. Chavez also said he is expanding his heating-oil program to help low-income Americans.

During his speech before the U.N. General Assembly on Wednesday, Chavez launched into a caustic verbal attack of Bush that shocked diplomats and observers accustomed to the staid verbiage of international diplomacy. (Full story)

"The devil came here yesterday," Chavez said, referring to Bush, who addressed the world body during its annual meeting Tuesday. "And it smells of sulfur still today."

Chavez accused Bush of having spoken "as if he owned the world" when the U.S. president addressed the world body on Tuesday. (Watch how Chavez's belligerence may backfire -- 3:11)

"As the spokesman of imperialism, he came to share his nostrums to try to preserve the current pattern of domination, exploitation and pillage of the peoples of the world. An Alfred Hitchcock movie could use it as a scenario. I would even propose a title: 'The Devil's Recipe.' "

Bush's domestic foes fumed Thursday.

"If there's any criticism of President Bush, it should be restricted to Americans, whether they voted for him or not," Rangel said at a Washington news conference.

"I just want to make it abundantly clear to Hugo Chavez or any other president: Don't come to the United States and think, because we have problems with our president, that any foreigner can come to our country and not think that Americans do not feel offended when you offend our chief of state," Rangel said.

"Hugo Chavez abused the privilege that he had speaking at the United Nations," Pelosi said. "In doing so, in the manner which he characterized the president, he demeaned himself and demeaned Venezuela."

Bush administration officials dismissed the Chavez tirade.

"We're not going to address that sort of comic-strip approach to international affairs," John Bolton, the U.S. ambassador to the U.N., said shortly after Chavez spoke Wednesday.

Chavez's tirades against Bush have become common. In May, he accused Bush of committing genocide and said the U.S. president should be imprisoned by an international criminal court.

Chavez also alleged during the U.N. speech that the United States is planning, financing and setting in motion a coup to overthrow him. The U.S. has denied such accusations in the past.

As he was exiting the U.N. building in New York, Chavez told reporters that Bush is not a legitimate president because he "stole the elections."

"He is, therefore, a dictator," Chavez said.

During a stop in Harlem on Thursday, Chavez said he has no quarrel with the American people.

"We are friends of yours, and you are our friends," he said.

Underscoring his point, he announced he is expanding his heating-oil program to help impoverished Americans from 40 million gallons last year to 100 million gallons this year, and from 180,000 families to 459,000 families.

But in the heart of Rangel's congressional district, he blasted away at Bush for a second day.

"He walks like this cowboy John Wayne," said Chavez. "He doesn't have the slightest idea of politics. He got where he is because he is the son of his father. He was an alcoholic, an ex-alcoholic. He's a sick man, full of complexes, but very dangerous now because he has a lot of power."

Chavez, clad in a fire-engine-red shirt, called Bush a "menace" and a "threat against life on the planet."

In the United States, rich people are getting richer, and poor people are getting poorer, he said. "That's not a democracy; that's a tyranny."

After his address, a Chavez spokesman said the Secret Service and New York Police Department had barred the Venezuelan president from granting media interviews and cut his delegation's satellite feed -- claims the New York police and State Department denied.

NYPD Assistant Chief Michael Collins called the allegations "absolutely false" and said the Venezuelan delegation refused to comply with requirements on where to place their satellite dish.

"What they were doing was dangerous and illegal," he said. "We made every accommodation not to interfere with what was going on."

State Department spokesman Gonzo Gallegos, in New York with Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, said: "As a matter of policy, there are no restrictions on President Chavez or anyone else wanting to speak their mind in the United States."

USDA SAYS SHUT UP AND EAT YOUR FRANKENRICE

The USDA has finally reacted to the contamination of the U.S. rice supply by an unapproved, genetically engineered variety of rice created by theBayer Corporation. Three weeks ago, it was discovered that Bayer's mutantrice, gene-spliced to survive heavy doses of a powerful herbicide called glufosinate, had contaminated U.S. long grain rice stocks. The USDA admitted it had "no idea" how extensive the contamination was. Meanwhile Japan has banned all U.S. rice imports, while the EU is rejecting U.S. imports that test positive for contamination. The rice industry has been in a state of upheaval, with rumors of a massive market recall spreading across the country. This week, the USDA announced its plan of action: instead of recalling this illegal, and potentially unsafe rice, it is working with Bayer to fast-track the approval process. "Illegal, potentially hazardous rice in grain bins, on supermarket shelves, in cereal, beer, baby foods, and all rice products. It should be a no-brainer. Recall this stuff to make sure no one eats it," said Joseph Mendelson, Legal Director of the Center for Food Safety. "Instead, USDA plans to rush through 'market approval' of a genetically engineered rice that Bayer itself decided was unfit for commerce. Why? To free Bayerfrom liability."Learn more: http://www.organicconsumers.org/2006/article_2159.cfm

How About This

HYPOTHESES

1. All men with fancy cars are complete dicks (i.e. incapable of not being self-absorbed jerks).

2. Would the world be a better place if Michael Jackson dressed as Ronald McDonald? Hmm.. (Had I the possession & mastery of Adobe Photoshop, I would gladly, by clear reference to pictorial, display this amazing potential). His name could then be, "McRichael Donlackson."

US man survives chocolate ordeal

Forget all that Middle East stuff.
This is clearly the best news article in recent days.
Thank you BBC.

Friday, 18 August 2006, 16:53 GMT 17:53 UK

The vat was full of dark chocolate. A 21-year-old US man ended up in hospital after spending two hours trapped in a vat of chocolate, police in Wisconsin said on Friday.
The man said he had climbed into the tank before becoming trapped waist-deep in chocolate, police chief Randy Berner told AP news agency.
However, other reports suggest he was stirring the chocolate when he fell in.
Rescue workers and staff at the Debelis Corporation used cocoa-butter to thin out the chocolate and pull him free.
"It was pretty thick. It was virtually like quicksand," Captain Berner said.
"It's the first time I've ever heard of anything like this," he added.
The worker said his ankles were sore after the incident, and he was taken to a local hospital where he is recovering.
The accident involved dark chocolate.

Oh shit, The Onion is great.

Retro-Crazed Youths Re-Elect Carter
November 5, 1996 | Issue 30•13


WASHINGTON, DC—A massive turnout of '70s-obsessed youths is being blamed for Jimmy Carter's surprise victory in Tuesday's presidential election. According to election officials, polling places were overrun with millions of 18- to 23-year-olds wearing Charlie's Angels T-shirts and carrying Scooby Doo lunchboxes. "The '70s were so cool," said Michelle Poole, 19, a barrette-wearing, Fisher Price toy-collecting Carter supporter. "It's like, that old-school Carter Administration shit rocked." According to Carter spokesman Edward Rowell, "President-Elect Carter will do his best to serve the mandate of '70s retro culture. He will boycott the Olympic Games, try to create another energy crisis and appoint many well-known '70s TV personalities, including Fred Berry and Gabe Kaplan, to top Cabinet posts."

McMentalIllness

He was smiling the whole time.

At long last

GOODness

You know what's good? I'll tell you what's good: Sleepytime Gorilla Museum. They are quite enjoyable live. Not too dark and they don't take themselves too seriously. But damn, can they bust out with a pile of crazy songs all in five different time signatures. You thought the Ramones were non-stop madness. No.

I'll tell you what else is good: Bukowski. But not too much, because then you start being meaner to people and thinking about gross things. Dude.

Here's what else is good: North Beach in San Francisco.
My friend Isaac and I attended the grand opening of "The Beat Museum" a few nights back and it was swell. Then we went across the street for a beer and wrote stuff and shouted things at passing tourists, from the perfectly ideal picture window we sat at. You can open it. You could even jump out if you wanted to. And make declarations. It's less than 10 feet down, but you could fling yourself from it without serious injury.

Here's what I wrote:

The horses were inside out
because I willed it so.
I played her piano like the mongoose that it was.
When up on the moose-top I spattered and splayed,
Saturday's swahili sinkholes
destituted my morose ankle bites.
Behold! I lamented,
across freedom boxes and bozo noses.
The playwrite fiddled his way through
anti-Jehovah meltdowns.
This cafe is a beltloop
in the eyes of Medusas's landspeeder.

Roses, both chocolate, threw themselves groundward
towards feet and sidewalk sewer slots,
only to miss their mark entirely
and land on Stevie Wonder's epiphanies,
all coiled to infinity and rolled up
for God's ready judgements.

What we need to do, for the 2008 presidential election, is initiate a nationwide write-in campaign. The only two viable candidates are obviously:

1. Stevie Wonder

2. John Stewart


Why?

Stevie has inspired millions of people throughout the world, with music and love. Plus, he's blind. You can't go wrong with that. "President Wonder, what is your plan for solving the Middle East conflict?"
John has already shown a penchant for inspiring people through truth and humor. It's also beneficial that he respects various authors and artists. His vice president would probably have to be Oprah Winfrey or Gen. Wesley Clark, to keep him proactive, policy wise.
Both of Stevie and John are fairly well-loved by the public already and show a healthy dose of wanting to listen to what others have to say. I think they both want to be real and see truth become acceptable within the realms of entertainment.
Vote today!
Or rather, 2008.
Unless of course, the Bush administration manages to successfully accelerate the collapse of civilization before that time, and plunge us head-long into The Rapture.

Tell it!

You know what's a great song? "Anthem" by Leonard Cohen. It's frikkin' amazing.

"Anthem"

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
Bought and sold
and bought again
The dove is never free.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

We asked for signs
The signs were sent:
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government --
Signs for all to see.

I can't run no more
with that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
a thundercloud
and they're going to hear from me.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.

****************************************************************

Does anyone else (artists) today know how to say these things? I think Bob Dylan used to, though he was a bit more of an emotional dude. I realize, too, Leonard Cohen's musical abilities leave some to be desired, but damn.

O.K., so now for more "cut'n paste" shenanigans, since that's all it seems I'm capable of at the moment:

*****************************************************************

The following excerpt comes from an informal talk between Hermann Goering and Gustave Gilbert. You've most likely seen variations of this before. Still, it is so poignant.

___________________________________________________________________________________

We got around to the subject of war again and I said that, contrary to his attitude,
I did not think that the common people are very thankful for leaders who bring them
war and destruction.

"Why, of course, the people don't want war," Goering shrugged. "Why would some poor
slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best that he can get out of
it is to come back to his farm in one piece. Naturally, the common people don't want
war; neither in Russia nor in England nor in America, nor for that matter in
Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who
determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along,
whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship or a Parliament or a Communist
dictatorship."

"There is one difference," I pointed out. "In a democracy the people have some say
in the matter through their elected representatives, and in the United States only
Congress can declare wars."

"Oh, that is all well and good, but, voice or no voice, the people can always be
brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them
they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and
exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country."

-Herman Goering was one of Hitler's men. He was found guilty on charges of "war crimes," "crimes against peace," and "crimes against humanity" by the Nuremberg tribunal and sentenced to death by hanging. The sentence could not be carried out, however, because Goering committed suicide with smuggled cyanide capsules hours before his execution, scheduled for 15 October 1946.-

bam.

Here I am

I was riding my bike home a few nights ago, when I looked up at what was usually a familiar intersection: gas station to my right, bank on my left, video place up ahead and...what? The "W" light on the corporate-box store to my distant left had burned itself out, I guess. Now though, it provided an awesome new view into a pleasantly alternate universe: algreens.

Your choices are simple

You can either be a homosexual/terrorist/abortion-doctor (read: Evil Enemy of God), or you can be a fundamentalist Christian (Hero and Liberator of God's Kingdom). Yes. The Right choice should be obvious...(ah, ha-ha.)
There are a couple great articles in the May issue of Harper's, about the epicenter of contemporary evangelism in Colorado Springs, Colorado and Right Wing organization and thought in general. The first one is respectfully written, but you definitely get the feeling that the author is a bit freaked by the extremes of the movement. The second piece has a clearer opinion. They're both quite informative and somewhat disturbing. I highly suggest you check them out. There's also something in the new issue of "Rolling Stone" magazine along the same lines.

So. Okay. Here's something I attempted to post yesterday:

Tell me war is a good thing. Tell me about the economy and global population-related problems and enemies and how war is inevitable and really, we need war to cleanse our collective soul. Tell me all these things while your're sitting comfortably at home in the United States, or strolling casually along the beach, maybe thinking about what you're going to fix for dinner or your next cosmetic surgery.
Now read here about the far-reaching influence of Agent Orange.
Can you empathize yet, with people you haven't met? Or is it still easier to burble self-effacing nationalist propaganda by rote, from underneath that shiny sludge of romanticized patriotism?
It seems to me, that if you are in favor of the war in Iraq, and you're not actually in Iraq (or on your way there), you are full of shit. Is this an unreasonable assumption?
And now for something a bit more judgemental: If all the aggressive, thick-headed, pro-war U.S. citizens marched off to the battle they spit-shine on about, would the world become a better place? If these (seemingly) inherently violent folks took the next flight to Iraq instead of taking out their anti-human aggressions on fabricated egotistical conflicts and "protesters" and minorities, where would that lead us? Hmm. Better just shut up. Better just go suck down some more Fox news.

Here's an accordion/drinking song I'm working on:

I drive a Hummer 'cuz
me cock is too small.
Yes, there're some days
I can't see it at all.
But my girl don't complain,
no, there ain't hardly no pain,
as she's only a hole in me wall!

splat

There have been periods of apologies
-now is not one of those times-
where so wistfully I wander and
excuse myself before Rainbow Brite and
all her absentee fathers.
I walked at night, fed upon whiskey-soaked raisins,
picked flowers while trampling still others.
No more. This is not that.
My tickets continue to be valid.
Even if they are not,
despite this falling rain and how it smudges my ink-
I entered the park when I was born.
So naturally I beg to differ
when it comes to you coming at me
with that friendly holiday blade.
I'm no turkey.
I'm no stocking-stuffed surprise for your vacant hands-

Listen here listen to me listen to what I'm not saying,
the spaces between your words: listen:
There's a message in there somewhere
like "Tickle Me Dracula" howling under siesta suns
as the smoke rises into the costly blue nest of the willowy sky,
forming the nonchalant animal traffic of our babyhoods-
It says "love before you leave" because purple is the color of God and anthropomorphized school buses dissolve into elephants and chairs and then cotton. Let your heart swell beyond convention.
Let the singing begin.
It may take some time, but you will see
that even badly painted garage doors
become majestic in the horizon of an insect's dreams.

Shredded-Kitten Burrito

Take this toy and like it:



______________________________________________

To reach the library, I cut through the back parking lot. I wove my body casually inbetween various gleaming, stationary vehicles, headed towards the door. Lost in thought, my head was downcast enough to avoid any dull distraction. As I had almost cleared the candied matrix of cars I looked up finally, to see a clean path to the posterior entrance blocked only by a mousy wisp of a mother holding the hand of her tow-headed two-year-old. Immediately my left elbow nicked the passenger side mirror of some dark blue parked van and simultaneous with this bump, the little tow-head's books shot out from under his arm falling slightly behind him. They were nearly twenty paces ahead of me. It was as if by striking the automobile's stubby appendage, I struck the child. Was the van I hit theirs? This synchronistic occurrence may have only appeared as such. I wondered: Could the van be a mechanical voodoo representation of this otherwise unassuming parent and/or child? A demon pin-cushion in the form of a gas-powered carriage?
______________________________________________

As I was nearly asleep, last night, something occurred to me: "Is the new pope evil?" And then I considered all the consequences of such an pope, and how it would make a great 'world-wide conspiracy' story. I next, of course, realized that the new pope could also, most reasonably BE DICK CHENEY (dressed up differently and wearing secret papal make-up).

You decide:

whoa slow down there, homie

"In a world full of people, only some want to fly. Isn't that crazy?"
I just gotta say: Seal really paints my wagon.
It was maybe 5 years ago that I was working at a bagel shop. I remember having a conversation with a customer who compared Seal to Rumi. The idea had not previously occurred to me and I would not go so far with my admiration, but that line about flying seems to get to the point of it all. And, he's engaged to Heidi Klum.
Wanting to fly appeals to me as a fundamental desire anyone who asks questions will innately entertain. I feel like there are people who innovate (by being true to themselves and as honest as possible) and then there are imitators (those who can only find it within their power to copy other people, in an effort to safely eat, sleep, work and die.).
Just look at congressmen. When they live such an unmitigated, fundamentalist bipartisan existance, not only do they become entirely predictable, but they lose their usefulness to humanity because they relegate themselves to oozing only dogma, in the form of thoughts and actions acceptable and profitable to the abstractions of bureaucracies. It's kind of what happens to most humans that take on the role of police: Because it's difficult not to take things personally when you're doing your job (whatever that is), "officers of the law" too often relinquish their humanness up to the overweight muses of robotic patriotism. Where then does that get us? Racism, sexism, ageism, etc. -all in the name of public safety, all protected and shrouded beneath auspices of social acceptance and collective betterment.
We all like to feel strong and capable. When that strength is nearly only visible to us in the form of physical monstrosity and aggression, well, sometimes it's easier to shut up and follow the herd, right?

Okay, THIS is what life's really all about, no? YES!!

Colorado Man Resuscitates Chicken

Fri Apr 15, 6:48 PM ET

COLLBRAN, Colo. - First there was Mike the Headless Chicken, a rooster that survived for 18 months after having its head lopped off with an ax.
Now, western Colorado has a new chicken survival story, this one involving a man who claims he saved his fowl by giving it mouth-to-beak resuscitation.
Uegene Safken says one of the chickens in his young flock had gotten into a tub of water in the yard last week and appeared to have died.
Safken said he first swung the chicken by the feet to revive it. When that failed, he continued swinging and blowing into its beak.
"Then one eye opened. I thought it was an involuntary response," Safken said. The chicken's beak opened a little wider, and Safken started yelling at it: "You're too young to die!
"Every time I'd yell at him, he'd chirp," Safken said.

Mike the Headless Chicken survived a beheading in 1945 in Fruita, Colo. Afterward, Mike could go through the motions of pecking for food, and when he tried to crow, a gurgle came out. His owner put feed and water directly into Mike's gullet with an eyedropper.
Scientists examined the chicken and theorized Mike had enough of a brain stem left to live headless. He was a popular attraction until he choked to death on a corn kernel.

The paranoid (but otherwise pleasant) old woman with glassy, distrustful eyes, nodded to me and whispered: "It's Already Begun!"

Pause and lower your feet for Poseidon the man-blower.
Townships cremate under watched mouthfuls of greengreen acres.
Sweat, blood, more sweat,
tears, bloodsweat, torn tears,
sweet whetted yearnings
in year's time treated for formaldehyde burns.

Homeless boundward,
aided by brushstrokes of Fallopian madness,
Cousins hide behind ramparts of lost journal entries.
The highest time for having
rages flower-budding stars.

Know this.
Please understand.
This candy bar is evil,
but it is my candybar.
And somewhere along that map
I, too, squat inside a glass jar
filled with sweetness.

Make no demands upon my rounded back just now.
No. Do no such thing.
My relation to groundskeepers is like
soil to the edge of the playground-
swings in the distance, buildings behind,
gravel and dust inbetween tether-ball sacks
with the frozen rigid parade
of hoppy-scotch-footed spaceships.
I am Mars.

You REALLY want to touch that chicken?

As seen on poultry Internet:

http://mixedreality.nus.edu.sg/MEDIA/all%20videos/PI/PI(web).mov

such indiscreet slime i see you

Today is the two year anniversary of the beginning of the "war" in Iraq. Isn't that great? I was at an open mic last night and someone passed out a flyer about it and as an invitation to the planned ensuing protests. Otherwise, I'm not sure if I would've known. TWO YEARS. That's quite a while for something so murderous to remain still so tactically vague.
I had a related thought this morning. It goes like this: Do the people that consider themselves "conservatives" ever stage marches or protests that involve much more than furiously celebrating whatever slant the domineering government preaches? It's almost like pop-radio fans marching in support of Britney Spears...
But then, are those who involve themselves in any non-government-approved activity merely reacting to their own feelings of inferiority? "Where there is fear there is power," I read once in Starhawk's Fifth Sacred Thing.
Sure, public demonstrations are important because the masses are so swayed by the spectacle of it all (thanks Guy) and we can't all feel fulfilled canvassing door to door for The Environment or any other mendicant attempts to encourage social awareness among the world's population. But, besides an active (read: non-theoretical) expression of frustration, does the message get across? Life is not theoretical. I continue my befuddlement.
I attended the initial WTO protests in Seattle, a number of years ago. I felt passionately that it was important for an example to be set, that it's O.K. for the citizens of the United States to say: Hey! What's going on is bullshit. Please pay attention to the effects of our personal and collective actions, because they DO directly relate to many varying and severe consequences that not only will be endured by the future generations of every class, but even the people we do not know next door.
Since then, I've become a bit disenchanted with overt political expressions. I remain firm in my belief that large, foreign entities should not have more rights to express themselves in my community than those who are a part of that community. I don't beleive that having more money gives you the authority to exploit resources or people, for still greater financial profit. But, marching around, shouting things like, "1,2,3,4! This is a vegan war!" is fuckin' annoying.

SO GLAD NOT TO BE CONJOINED

I openly admit that I have a morbid fascination with this kind of stuff. My response is one of both sympathy and amazement at Life's possibilities.
Check out all the pictures of pygopagus twins; it's insane= http://phreeque.tripod.com/



And, on a whole different level...
Want to have the power to turn off televisions wherever you go? I KNOW you do. Well then go here- http://www.tvbgone.com It's an idea I've toyed with for so long, and finally someone has succeeded. Yes.

Dude.

I'm, like, totally dead at Jurassic Park.

Don't be so seagullible.

For about the past month and a half, whenever I chance to look upon a digital time piece (with flitting timely concerns), it almost unfailingly reads- 1:23.
What the hell is that about? I've yet to feel so consciously preoccupied by this phenomenon as to take my quandary and embafflement to the ever-gaping, virtual chasm of information we call the Internet. Or even a book store. Would Numerological theory assist me? I suspect it must.
Speaking of books: Damn, the Harry Potter series is engaging. I've made it to the middle of the fourth one, and crave still more. I must admit I was initially quite skeptical of the quality of the stories, given their commercial success (and the fact that The Masses so frequently choose to embrace formulaic cheapness). Alas, (I could have considered the world-wide interest instead of being so damn nationalistic.) I, too, feel somewhat attached now.
I've also begun reading Renoir's biography, written by his son oh-so-many years ago and apparently quite a while following his father's death. Did you know that Renoir judged people based on their hands? Not such a bad point for observation. "Look at his hands!" Renoir would exclaim to his son, "He's a scoundrel!"

Also, read about censorship at the Oscars: http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/AA763FF7-03FC-40F4-AD8C-53A449F3CE5C.htm

I'm wishing...

Gosh it sure would be swell if the government of the United States cared as much about helping tsunami victims as it does about going to war.
"People," they say, "Give what you can. -This is something the American people love to do: help others in their time of need.- So please, reach deep, and we'll help out a little bit too."
"Look, here are some past presidents."

"They care. They also know that you care. Listen to them, and believe, because they only want what's best for everybody. America, we know you don't have much right now, but if we all band together, stop spending all our children's furture on (emotionally-charged yet too abstract to fully comprehend) WARS...I mean, unneccessary material possessions waitaminute (shopping IS democracy, isn't it? AMERICA: OPEN FOR BUSINESS remember? If we stop mindlessly filling our lives with mediocre devices of entertainment and distraction, does that mean that the terrorists have already won, dare I say, a second time? Does it immediately dissolve our democracy? What's exactly going on here? Maybe just ignoring all the real problems of the world, to focus more intently on the consumption at hand is really what it's all about-?) maybe something good can happen..."

Noise McNuggets

How fickle my faith in humanity when one composed effort of expression is enough for near total redemption.
No one needs my acceptance, I realize.
One is valid.
Bjork.
Bjork's new album entirely inspires me.
It is such an ascendance of thought and action.
Genres are thrown aside or ignored out of a creative exploration and great love.
It is testimony to
the Boundlessness, the potential within us all.
It reminds me that more than what I see and hear is possible. So beautiful.
I enthusiastically welcome and embrace 'Medulla' into a world too overgrown with the manifesto of Noise McNuggets preached at us from drooling radios.

At last...

HELLO!
Okay. Now.
Something has been done and it has colors and sometimes connections. Yes.
So.
It seems that we are locked, embattled if you will, in a struggle between what we stand for.
We have two myths we put forth, one only for children (because they certainly require irreverent entertainment to keep them from breaking our precious cookie jars) and the other for the inner-longing of "us" all. Right? Both tales state specific values of goodness and reverence. They both, however, run into the realms of paradox when faced with each other.
Is it not bizarre that we put so much effort into annually re-telling the two stories separate yet equal? Jesus is the reason for the season. But what about Santa?
Sure, one is real, we're told, while the other is fake. Whatever. It appears to me as a moral dilemma, not a technical one. The story of Jesus has to do with selflessness and transcendence while the tale of Santa Claus carries with it an ironic dogma: Be good and you'll get stuff. Also, believe.
And what strikes me particularly, is that I've come to recognize the innate shallowness of the Santa myth as the prevalent foundation of all institutionalized religion. The story of the baby Jesus being born and the circumstances surrounding the entire legend, are rife with metaphor and a profound sense of the miraculous that we can truly learn from and use to apply to our lives. Yet, Religion asks very little of us: Carry around this book, memorize it's' passages, worship this particular saint, deity, element etc. But whatever you do, don't THINK for yourself because that might be The Devil. This is closer to the Santa story.
Here's part of the end of the Gospel of Thomas:

"111) Jesus said, "The heavens and the earth will be rolled up in your presence. And the one who lives from the living one will not see death." Does not Jesus say, "Whoever finds himself is superior to the world?"
(112) Jesus said, "Woe to the flesh that depends on the soul; woe to the soul that depends on the flesh."
(113) His disciples said to him, "When will the kingdom come?" "It will not come by waiting for it. It will not be a matter of saying 'here it is' or 'there it is.' Rather, the kingdom of the father is spread out upon the earth, and men do not see it."

-The Gospel According to Thomas

This is indeed a powerful testament to what I think the story of Jesus is about.

I feel like I'm losing my original point. I only want to note that it's kind of weird that we have these two conflicting stories and we don't acknowledge what effect that has on us or why we do it. The quest for meaning got lost somewhere between the candy canes and the manger.
Yeah, I know it's the sentiment that counts.
Well, Merry Christmas anyway.

K-martyrs to the end...

Conservatives point at bibles, Liberals point at chains.
They all meet up together though, inside the same Costco.

fuck you and your all beef franks
thanks again, see you next time, have a great day

1 for the kiddies

Why is violence O.K. for children to be exposed to and sex is not O.K.?
What kind of values are reflected here?
What does this say about our values as a culture?
Yes: We use sex to sell everything, but then turn around and act offended by Janet Jackson's nipple.
That, in turn, sparked a controversy which proceeded to then totally ignore the bigger questions.
Are we ashamed of our bodies? Human bodies? Why?
Have we decided that naked human bodies are ugly? Who taught us this idea?

I think we've hyper-sexualized our own bodies and projected this pathological drama onto the bodies of everyone else.
When we use sex to sell tabloids, and clutch steadfastly to the belief that humans should only be without clothing when it is a sexual situation, I think we're doing ourselves a great disservice.
Is it unnatural to wear clothes? We certainly weren't born with anything on.
What's the difference between witnessing one person killing another and seeing two people engaged in the act of making love?
Let's get our shit together, folks.

There is no bed but that which makes a lapdog hum.

Little Red Womanhood
made me some soup that's good.

"Take your mask off," she said.
Yes, I replied.
"Except for this piece of peppermint."
My mother.
Look to the GROUND! I shuddered.
"Eventually it will be all these things and more."
And they do choose we are men in cages.
People like Bay Root, the Candyballman.
It's soft, city center leaps up to touch it's own norteno pride.
A millennium skillet and mother frightened me.
Blue basket picnic bears go astumbly-
retardando.

you have the choice to pay attention to people who act fake or honestly depraved

PITCHED BETWEEN MODEL AMERICANS AND THEIR 2-BIT MIDDLE DREAMS OF GLORY LASSOED UP TIGHT AGAINST THEM LIKE THE GYPSY-BELLE (SOUTH OF NOWHERE) COUSIN THEY COULD NEVER HAVE.
FORGIVE ME BROTHER BUT YOUR TRUCK IS BIGGER THAN I CAN UNDERSTAND.

Life is not "school." School is not life.

Do not let yourself become a robot.
The point has to do with learning how to move like a robot (in order to trick the robot world into not noticing you) so you will blend in. When doing this, however, there is a profound possibility you may lose remembrance of your true identity and dreams and intentions. Because the more you learn to move like a robot, the more time you take up playing the role of a robot. You could be doing something else.
You could be exploring the non-robotic possibilities of Life. True learning has nothing to do with memorization; you must absorb your environment, you must empathize with it all in order to really understand it.
Coldly callous scalpel ice shining by precision-cut vertical bloodless lines are for dumbo atheist runaways. Don't let yourself lose sight of the fact that something miraculous is happening; most of what you are doing, most of what is going on in the world (the real world, not the pre-chewed twinkie fascination with locks and doors (guns are for sissies) and vicarious bystanding bullshit) is not understood or known. -Who are you without words or actions?

again with the library smack

Mad mother matriarch stomps around and tromps around planting angry fists of books into unwilling, ungrateful shelves and hefting her haughty purgatory through passageways and door frames and behind large hard desks to uneventful, benevolent pedestals for her portly mass to be displayed from.
Constipated look in eyes, glasses in hand, "Don't attack my person (you small, threatening male)!" Visibly nudged -nearly budged from her rotten Roman dock of obese inner-snarling, she pretended to help (thinks she's helping) by pointing out symbols to show she did something.
Lumpy greyish hairfroth in tangled overflowing mass of steelwool scrubbiness tumbling down her tortured headpride -a mummified reassurance to coffins and dusty shadowsplotches.

Experience is bullshit. Intention is everything.

I really feel that the quality and depth of what goes on with 'pop' culture is a general reflection of the trends in consciousness of the nation (at least). And I've had the idea that playing only musical geniuses on the radio would increase the ability of "the masses" to step outside of their collective box. This is not to say that I'm speaking from the standpoint of a boxless horizon. I, too, have so much to learn and grow. But I've noticed that when I (somewhat severely) discriminate against what I perceive as mediocrity, search for and surround myself with what I believe to be genius, through the resulting immersion I become more greatly in touch with a consistent inspiration towards Life.
In other words, when I turn off the radio because it sucks (which is about 99% of the time), instead of letting it drool in the distance, selling me shallow ideals and encouraging useless desires, I then replace it with what I know to be a truly legendary musician/poet/whatever. And I find I am a better, more thoughtful, inspired, alive being.
I feel that we, as a culture, have lost our culture due in great part to the fact that we take very little responsibility for our surroundings. This can be seen on every level. Consider that: Instead of cooking for ourselves, we often resort to purchasing food that has already been prepared (seasoned, salted, mashed, strained, measured, shaped, packaged, etc.) for us. Here we rely entirely on an abstract entity to provide nourishment for our bodies. This in turn, has subtle and not so subtle effects on our immediate and future physical health, emotional stability and mental availability.
Did you know that constant sound causes harm to your nervous system? Does that matter?
I feel so often bewildered by humans. If the air we breathe is a fundamental platform for the quality of Life on Earth, why do we continue staring straight ahead from within automobiles? Why do we smoke cigarettes? Why, in lieu of intuitive and scientific discoveries, do we not make changes in our behavior to accommodate our newfound knowledge? Is there something innately wrong with us?
It would seem we've managed to alienate ourselves from nearly all natural processes: We fight battles that no one can justify -without hiding behind technicalities and reducing the human experience to a mechanical formula of anti-poetry and dogma; we work unfulfilling jobs and come home to our accidental children and consume meals of candy-coated crap; we go to sleep with pills, wake up with caffeine and do it over and over again until we die of cancer or some other premature, degenerative disease. Why are we doing this? Not for the children.
Everything we do and think has an effect.
Paying the bills is obviously not good enough.
Blaming it all on "the System" or "the Man" or "the Liberals" is not good enough.
We can do better than this, right?

The Newspapers Were Fooled Again

I like to give humans the benefit of the doubt, you know, because I believe all deviousness and EVIL is truly superficial and that we, at heart, are GOOD and mean well and all that. But damn, when I look at the front page of the newspaper, my optimism waivers a bit. Arnold (the "governator") goes to Japan, and what does he have to say about it? Almost literally, "Visit America. You'll be back!"
Ahh, ha-ha. GOOD ONE Arnold! What a CLEVER governor California has.
So I got to thinkin,' what if Arnold (or Bush, for that matter) had something in-depth or,um, EDUCATED to say about anything? Consider Jimmy Carter's recent statement regarding the death and life of Yassir Arafat:
http://nytimes.com/2004/11/12/opinion/12carter.html?hp
This man is obviously quite educated on the matter. I don't really know much about the issues at hand, but there's a sense of understanding and nobility stemming from Carter's intentions that I never have gotten from many other prominent politicians. With Arnold and George W., I only get the feeling they're playing a role in a show and that what they say about anything is geared to fit snuggly within the narrow boundaries of their party-affiliation. I realize, too, that Carter no longer is obligated to serve any special interests, so he is more able to speak like a man and not a politician-robot. However, I find it somewhat difficult to accept that either Arnold or Bush are really very educated or selfless. They are in a position to put on a good performance and they both have access to a greater percentage of the best resources the First World has to offer. And so they use those resources to put on a fancy show and traipse around muttering sitcom-style catch phrases to entice the dreaming masses.
I think Hollywood is a disease that is succeeding in it's infection of the world's ideologies. It's shimmering teeth have clamped down and we are stunned.
When the disposable culture of Hollywood's crude underbite snapped shut, it became the top-down definition we gladly embraced. Who are we? We asked between sweet, foaming gulps of Coke and pilgrimages to Safeway.

I sprout

billy graham cracker jus' whip snappin'
rackin' up points for jesus
you and jews so cold-cocked locked in freezer
doors shut tight
ain't no light gettin' through

Let's get this war on

Yeah, war is dumb.
This morning, after some slow-speaking street kid had to ask me twice whether I wanted to buy pot, and I declined, he turned around and walked off in the opposite direction. On his jacket, I noticed a bumper sticker that read: FOUR MORE WARS, and I was impressed with the simplicity of that statement.
Hey, you want to see something kind of scary? Check this out.
Pay special attention to the names at the bottom of the page.

oh how I wander

in San Francisco now. the cat that curls beneath the warmth of my arm as i pet it's headfur backwards. i am homeless and traveling to visit friends but really just get to know myself without entirely dissolving into the sticky streets of city/alleyways/possibles. i miss my accordion.

for you

I realize some of this is redundant, but I just wrote this in response to a friend's email and thought, "Well shit. This is potentially a more efficient use of words than the previous soapbox declaration." Plus, I like the picnic metaphor. And now I offer it to you.

Yeah, I definitely feel disconcerted. But I also feel a little more free. Backing someone as unfocused as Kerry takes a lot of energy. It's not that we were merely fighting against the Grand Old Party machine. That fact that so many of us stooped so low to fervently support, defend and trump up the Kerry icon, seems sad to me.
I'm sorry that Bush is still there, don't get me wrong. But who really, truly wanted John Kerry in office? I think we only fooled ourselves into playing along with the politicians. We need a different way to make and implement decisions.
It's like we were all on the same Republican road trip, and occasionally, when we had to pee, they pulled over at a truck stop and we thought that was us being powerful. They were driving the car the whole time and now we're at their intended destination. They never veered off course. We could've jumped out at any time -even when they were going too fast- but we were so scared, we stayed under the comfy protection of the convertible roof. Now we've made it to the "Conservative" picnic and there's nothing to eat but cheap hotdogs, potato salad and Budweiser. Those things are mediocre, showy nourishment. I hope we can collectively look past the folding picnic tables and well-manicured lawn, to see that Life has something more to offer, before we gorge ourselves once more, in exhausted, childish resignation, on the post-modern white bread of our comfortable forefathers.

have a bitchin' summer

Why, O Lord,
amidst such bounty and peace
do humans take reason
for suffering and cause still more?

We were all fooled and I'm sorry.
I never quite felt in my heart that Kerry would be a good choice to lead the country; never really wanted him there; only partially bought in to the pitiful, left-wing fever. I saw that I wished for there to be a strong, confident alternative to Bush. In the end now, I see clearer that Kerry was only a pathetic construction put together in imitation of, reaction to the incumbant.
You can't please anyone when you raise your limp-wristed middle finger to the mirror.
I'm kind of glad Bush won this time.
Let the bombs fall.
Let the freedom reign.
And yet I do feel some melancholy. I feel surprised by the seasons of the power of men at this time, as though we were living in the Dark Ages.
Kali Yuga is behind us because Dwapara is defined as 'humans becoming aware of the fine electricities that make up creation.' But damn it if I still feel confused by the intentions and desires of my brothers and sisters:
You're beautiful
but I cannot save you
from the machines
-war, fear, miracle-
of this world.
You must carve your own trail
out and away from speeding tractors'
paths of ruin and ages.
This place would
strap you down
splay you out
as though you were
a cowboy pilgrim's
victory meal
on a sunshiny
Easter Sunday.
You will be groomed
like a prisoner
to the electric chair
if ever you decide to bite,
if ever you choose to
accept completely
any half-assed truths
of all the clutching civilizations
on this planet.
You must let go
of the need
to become too fat
off the riches
-and later an obese zombie
scratching indiscriminately
at doors-
*hopeful eyes*
and waiting for donations.

In your slumber
you are peaceful.
Why do you not bring
that peace to your
waking days?

O bleeding heart of humanity
and open hands of understanding,
where art thou?
Flower of God,
where art thou hidden
inside this trepid war
of life?

When I seek Thee
I have found Thee
betwixt my soul
and the night.
When morning comes,
and I see Thy shining face,
shall I sing with glory
to the patient mountains
or weep for the coming
of another cycle
upon our quaking bones?


__________________________________________________________

A state by any other

You learn the rules and in the end, they're only rules so you let them go.
All that stuff about syntax and punctuation, that whole plan about getting a job and starting a family, all your ideas about who men are and what women do- it dissolves when you die. And you will die. At some point along the way, you will be forgotten too. It may take thousands of years or maybe just a few days; rest assured.
But you have right now.
This is the time for you to play games with rules, to play those games- to take those rules, examine them, hold them up to the light for a better look- and think about the whole thing. Ask questions like, Why am I playing this game? And, why do these rules seem so important to me?
Maybe you're in school. Or maybe you just think you're in school.
Stop for a moment to consider the fact that all of this is made up. Humans created sidewalks and the word, 'sidewalk.' There weren't always words for things. And the things humans have created haven't always been around. There is no reason to believe what humans have made up will continue to exist in a few hundred years.
Bombs could fall today upon our most beloved institutions and it wouldn't matter who was president because we'd just perish beneath it all.
I think we are especially fragile when we believe in presidents and institutions to save us from other presidents and other institutions. I think it must just be a game we play to avoid dealing with our fear of the unknown.
We teach rules to children without suggesting to them that the rules ultimately don't matter, and the children grow up into adults expecting, even repeating, situations in which the governing platform of the situation can only exist once humans have managed to dutifully switch off their capacity to wonder and create things lacking in fundamentalism.
It's as if the dogma sniffing at the heels of our youthful days claws into us and grows like a disease, deforming our humanity as we lower our heads, then our bodies into dull brown boxes. The lid flaps taped over the top of us are our death as able, thoughtful, compassionate beings.
And when this happens, all that's left is a dusty silence accompanied by occasional conveyor belt scratching as our boxes take us through endless circles around a desolate factory.
Get up, people!
You are not living.
Wake up!
Wake up!
Wake up!

I peel eggs

It's beautiful and so peaceful here today. Two nights back, we all stood outside by the brick oven and danced as the full lunar eclipse occurred. The next day I could feel the energy of the land and the people like I was sitting in a river flowing over, around and through me.
Tonight is a massive Halloween party on the Mountain.

JOIN US!

GO

Let's do an experiment.
Why don't we take Stevie Wonder records out from the dust and play them as though
awarding ourselves, supporting the possibility of our genius as channeled by the Wonderous one himself. Yes. And then we might find time to ask questions of our elders, questions like, "Where are you?"
The hypothesis goes like this: Let's take all the bullshit out of our lives (i.e. any domineering of our consciousness by the thought that we need to be accepted, that money makes us better, that the outside has more to offer than the inside, that we're more important than somebody, anybody else.) and rebegin, with bigger intentions.
How important are you?
You are nothing.
You are everything.
Is it enough that you are alive?
I dare you to empty your pockets.

i pick fruit

Ahh.
I just got done harvesting tomatoes (for the second time today), growing on a hillside overlooking the most picturesque mountain valley. My fingernails are dirty and my pants are a bit stained from an impromptu rotting-tomato-flinging war. This is Living. I could do this for a long time, methinks.
The tomatoes are of different varieties and entirely organic. They are the sweetest, most magical tomatoes one could hope for. They're really nothing like the pale, hard stuff in grocery store chains. I wish you could have some right now.
__________________________________________________________________

Ya know, there's definitely something y about being able to harvest fresh, organic food and then head inside and use a computer to convey any hint of the experience to a potential audience of international eyes.

___________________________________________________________________

So I was reading the BBC website today and I came across the following quote from our dear, dear "president."

"A political candidate who jumps to conclusions without knowing the facts is not a person you want as your commander-in-chief."
-George W. Bush

Is there truly anyone out there who fails to see how absurd it is for him, of all people, to be quoted saying this?
Maybe the thinking is that, if he says that kind of thing enough, people will forget everything that has already transpired. I guess it worked quite well in the aftermath of the November 11 attacks, and George Orwell quite effectively demonstrated the theoretical possibilities in 1984.
I'm so unendingly stunned and fascinated by how powerfully the mechanisms of propaganda work to disable an individual's capacity for reflection and free will.

**********************************************************************************

Life and something else


This is the cover art for the new issue of the Village Voice. Artist Alex Ross


wait and see and THEN you'll see that trees don't grow on TREES, ya know.

I have had in my mind for some time now, that there is a difference in our species. It's not racial or religious. No. It has to do with the fact that there is a certain kind of person who:
opens packages with their mouth instead of their hands,
somehow manages to get poop on the toilet seat,
say Porsh-uh instead of Porsche,
There are other things I will remember later.

_________________________________________________________

OH MY GOD THE MOON IS AMAZING TONIGHT SURROUNDED WITH SWIRLING CLOUDS AND A BLEACHED-EDGE NIGHT! STARS DWARFED BY THE MOON'S GLORY -NEARLY FULL (WEDNESDAY, I HEAR) - AND APPEAR PART OF AN ETHEREAL EXPLOSION THAT IS ALTOGETHER IMPOSSIBLE AND I EXPECT IT. PINE TREES THRUST TOWARD THE HEAVENS SERVE AS BACKBONES TO THE LUNAR SINGING LIGHT AND YET FRAME IT AGAINST THE VALLEY FILLED WITH DISTANT BARKING DOG (ONE OF WHOM I DO BELIEVE I JUST MET ON THE WAY TO MY ROOM: BIG, WHITE, FRIENDLY, DOPEY. WAGS HIS WHOLE BUTT WHEN YOU ACKNOWLEDGE HIM BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE'S AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR AND AREN'T YOU SURPRISED AT HIS CRAZY GENIUS OF SLIPPING OFF INTO THE NIGHT TO INVESTIGATE TRAILS AND SKITTER OFF HILLSIDES IN HORRIBLE SUDDEN FEAR OF SKUNKS AND VENTURE FURTHER UNDER COVER OF DARK TO FIND POCKETS OF LIGHT AND WARMTH BROUGHT ON BY HUMANS INDOORS AND ON PORCHES?). THE MOUNTAINS FADE IN A BLUE-BATHED GRADATION AS THEY HUMP SMALLER AND FARTHER INTO THE HORIZON. THE GROUND, ONCE DIRTY BROWN IS NOW ONLY A SHADE OF SILVER UNDER WATCHFUL MOONEYE. IT IS BREATHTAKING THAT THE MOON DECIDES -OVER NEW, BLACK & WHITE CANVASS- WHAT COLOR SCHEME WILL TE THE LANDSCAPE. IT IS, HOWEVER, PUNCTUATED BY PERFORATIONS OF INCONSISTENT ORANGE BULBS STEMMING ON POSTS BEFORE DWELLINGS AND ALIGHTING NIGHT ROADS (SO WE DO NOT, LIKE BIG DUMBDOG, SUCCUMB TO GRAVITY'S TIMELESS JOKES AND VISION IMPAIRED AND FLOW STUPIDLY DOWNWARD INTO THE DUST AND BRAMBLES AND DEER FECES).

Nothin' But Burgers & Fries As We Drive Along Our Personal Highway To Roadlessness And A Future Of Unrepentant Cries In The Wildernesses Of Broken...

Here I sit wondering if my absentee ballot will arrive in time. The election is so near now and inflated and I really don't think about it with that much energetic thrust. It will be what we make it and what we need.

A PASSAGE

Well, just leave it to extremists to misuse trends and potentials and lower the level of discourse.
There's a group that made a reactionary film titled, "Celsius 41.11" that apparently exists as a rebuttle to Michael Moore's existence. Go to their fine, upstanding website to revel in PATRIOTISM at it's most nauseating. In Florida the film is playing at numerous AMC theatres. Who's heard of it before? Nobody.
I was starting to get excited about the potential of mass media outlets finally being used as forums for education, what with Bowling For Columbine and The Corporation and even the new-agey What the Bleep Do We Know? Sure, they've all got their own slant, and they're not all that well done, but it feels like they're only attempting to make sense out of things rather than react thoughtlessly to a stimulus.
And it's not like we're NOT ALREADY bombarded with enough conservative dogma.
_______________________________________________________________

Also, don't you think it's weird that we refer to the United States as "America?" That's such a convenient abrieviation that just happens to leave out, oh, say, Canada and all of Central and South America.
"Have you ever been to America?" We ask people from Latin countries and Canada. It's so arrogant and self-absorbed. We might as well each call our own respective dwelling "America," and be surprised by when "foreigners" come around.

I AWAKEN & QUIP

You know what's great? That feeling in the morning when you know, without a doubt, that it's crispy and chilly OUTSIDE your toasty cocoon of blankets. And you're awake and not planning to go back to sleep, and you just stay there, thinking about everything. You don't get out of bed -not because it's cold outside, but because it's warm INSIDE. Yeah, I like that, did that this morning. It was great.
So I read some news story where Dick Cheney had all these mean things to say recently. It really came as little surprise because he has always LOOKED to me like someone filled with bitterness and unrequited love or something. He comes off as the archetypal greedy, businessman, who seems to stop at nothing to conquer people, things, etc. Think 'Boss Hog,' but an intellectual titan. And he's missing the long, black moustache -waxed and curled at the ends- and the stovepipe hat and the long black cloak. The news never shows Cheney laughing nasally while tying screaming women to the railroad tracks, but it wouldn't surprise me at all. He's got the snarl, though, and that's something (a clue to his character, perhaps?) that can't be obscured, no matter how far you put him behind the Presidential podeum.
Regardless of any premonition I may have had about Cheney, the man, and besides the fact that I actually felt somewhat GLAD to see Cheney honestly BE the monster I suspected he was, the article just me off. Where has Cheney been for the past four years? He's been HIDING of course, hiding while running the Administration -for the most part because he comes off as such a scroogey, villainous character.
The government, naturally wants people to LIKE it, to TRUST it. So they put out a friendly, cute one (Bush) and dressed him up in various costumes, in a timely way, and gave him words to say that sounded good -which too many people mindlessly seemed to gobble up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
And I guess what's truly curious to me, about this particular Administration, is that it was so scientifically structured. The humans involved used so many basic propaganda-based formulas to get in office and get accepted and allowed to facilitate hugely important resources. Nevermind that it's so transparent they have such narrow, chiefly materialistic concerns. They used the science of propaganda and war to sculpt a particular following. Thay succeeded quite well. For that reason, I am impressed. I just wish they'd use their influence more wisely. I just wish they would be even more obvious about what they want, stop hiding behind .
If they truly spoke what they believed in, without resorting to group identifications (i.e. "Republican" "Conservative"), I wonder how many people would go along with their schemes? That goes for ALL politicians. What if people ran on a platform based on what they thought was important, rather than a very specific, already entirely predictable thought system?

more dayness

Yes in the mountains, yes.
Reading East of Eden. Good.
It's' raining off and on here and I love it either way.
Working on Toast.
Will be here another week.
Maybe work?
Woke up early this morning and feel better than previous 2 days' 12 hours of sleep.
It is good and the community is so delicate and beautiful.
The quiet is quietly amazing
and there is warmth.

boyhowdy

Well, .
Here I am in the mountains and writing a blog. Who's crazy? Tell me, WHO'S CRAZY NOW?

addendum

From Chris Hedges' essay "Feeling the Hate with the National Religious Broadcasters" in the May issue of Harper's.

"I can't help recall the words of my ethic professor at Harvard Divinity School, Dr James Luther Adams, who told us that when we were his age, and he was then close to eighty, we would all be fighting the `Christian fascists'.
He gave us the warning 25 years ago, when Pat Robertson and other prominent evangelists began speaking of a new political religion that would direct it's efforts at taking control of all major American institutions, including mainstream denominations and the government, so as to transform the US into a global Christian empire. At the time, it was hard to take such fantastic rhetoric seriously. But fascism, Adams warned, would not return wearing swastikas and brown shirts. It's ideological inheritors would cloak themselves in the language of the Bible; they would come carrying crosses and chanting the Pledge of Allegiance ...

Then as now, Adams said, liberals failed to understand the power and allure of evil and when the radical Christians came, these people (liberals) would undoubtedly play by the old, polite rules of democracy long after those in power had begun to dismantle the democratic state. Adams had watched the German academics fall silent or conform. He knew how desperately people want to believe the comfortable lies told by totalitarian movements, how easily those lies lull moderates into passivity.

He told us to watch closely the Christian Right's persecution of homosexuals and lesbians. Hitler, he reminded us, promised to restore moral values not long after he took power in 1933, then he imposed a ban on all homosexual and lesbian organizations and publications. Then came raids on the places where homosexuals gathered, culminating on May 6, 1933, with the ransacking of the Institute for ual Science in Berlin. Twelve thousand volumes from the institutes' library were tossed into a public bonfire. Homosexuals and lesbians, Adams said, would be the first deviants singled out by the Christian Right. We would be next "