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.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Thursday, October 28, 2004
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
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.
**********************************************************************************
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.
**********************************************************************************
Monday, October 25, 2004
Life and something else
This is the cover art for the new issue of the Village Voice. Artist Alex Ross
Sunday, October 24, 2004
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).
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).
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