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..."