A gripping introduction...
I spend a lot of time some nights just thinking about the opening line to these entries. I didn't think about it much tonight.
I am alive. I tell myself that sometimes. I need to be reminded.
I don't smoke cigarettes any more. I am not a non-smoker though. I refuse to be defined by what I don't do. There are some people that have never smoked that define themselves as non-smokers.
"I'm a non-murderer." Sounds so odd when applied out of the smoking context. "Hi, I'm a non-heroin addict." there is something to this. I could spend the next hour ranting about the influence that tobacco wielded over the American Century, but I don't care about it that much.
As the story goes, Guerdjieff challenged Ouspensky to quit the cigarette habit.. Some time passed during which Ospensky did quit. More time passed, and when Ospensky met with Guerdjieff again, he exulted that he had quit, proclaiming that he was now free. As I understand it, Guerdjieff lit up a fine Turkish blend cigarette and said to Ospensky "If you are free, then have one of these."
Dr. John Tell related this anecdote today at Coffee Talk. Dr. John is mad, in some of my favorite ways. There is trepidation without fear, righteousness without arrogance, wisdom in the whispers, and original behaviour. My faith in humanity is fueled my the loons on the street. The irony is that the loon has not taken a mental vacation, but lives in relation with the moment. He may have a rap, but is not on auto pilot. A holy moment can arise when he looks you in the eyes if you do not disguise our common thing with a dream of separation.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Out Here in There...
Monday:
*Was still on the computer @ midnight as Monday rolled around. Stayed there 'til There closed @ around 3:35am. I am happy that There closes. I would not sleep otherwise.
*Sleep. Alarm sounds at 7:am. I hit snooze. I am supposed to fix water first thing this morning. I don't. Tired. Eyes bloodshot. Chilly in the mountain valley and the mud fresh and deep.
*Ant calls at 8:am. I don't get the phone though. My clock says it's 11:am. I panic for a moment, then turn to look at the light on the bamboo and banana leaves. I see that I reset the clock in one of my slapping snoozes. Sister calls half hour later. I don't get that either. I'm striving to clear my head, to prepare mentally for the day. Then dozing off again.
*I hear Ants truck pull in. I hop up and dress, walk downstairs and out. Check the Hong Kong Orchid airlayers. Fat. Ant and his Nephew unload and I get it together. Call Alan. Get fliers for plumarias.
*Meet Alan @ Coffee Talk. Coffee and bagel to go. I wore the wrong shirt. Was cool in the valley, but warm in the city. Long sleeve pullover (broken water; no laundry). BDU pants with a big knife shoved into my pant waist. Slippers. Asshole glasses. Folding saw in back pocket. Tree farmer costume.
*Drive Betty, loaded with plumarias, to Kahala, park her, ride with Alan to troll for trees. A timid transvestite talks to me through the veil of a white steel screen security door. I tell her that I want to trim her tree for free. Suspiciously she takes my card and says she'll talk to her boyfriend. Then gives me the once-over-up-and-down with her eyes and her face opens a bit. Bye bye.
*Find an old account from two years back. Five trees in the back. We get the ok to go. I call Ant and give our 20. Alan takes me back to Betty and I drive her to Waimanalo, drop plumaria cuttings at Koba's. Need 75 more. Back to Kahala.
*Alan cutting the last tree. 80 pieces. Excellent. Load. Back to Waimanalo. Finish the order. 200 6' to 12' cuttings. 215, actually. Bonus for them.
*Pick up a hitchhiker on the Makapu'u bend. Paraglider from Canada. He had the whole thing in a back pack. Wanted a ride to Koko Head crater (Hawai'ian name:----------Means Flaming Vaginal Lips?). Drop him there.
*Park in Aina Haina. Hop across the Kalanianole Highway to the center median. Cut seeds from manila palms.
*Stop for pizza at Boston's. On the way back to the farm up I pass Paul in his drive. He says he is waiting for someone to go down so that he could pick up his truck. "It's 4 o'clock, someone has to come down. "
*Go home. Feed animals, pilfer in the garden. Talk to Mayor Ted about using Betty to haul street sweeper leaf mulch from the University (peppered with nutritious pea gravel for an excellent loamy potting compost).
*Make calls. Arrange tomorrows schedule for me and the crew, Chings and Spizannos.
* Laundry at Camp Palolo. Uses Ritchies shower (hot high pressure water...mmmmmmmmmmmmmm....such a luxury). Drink some Chilean booze, _______. Smoke a dube. Rant about There and the implications, the applications, boggle their minds with my guilt stricken enthusiasm. Drop some papayas and split.
*I go There. Find people to Jump off Jesus's head with me.
*Hop in the truck. Door stuck. Hinge giving away. Damn. Pass Paul in his driveway. It's 10:pm. "Hey" we say. "Can I get a ride down?" he asks. "This isn't the same ride you were waiting on at four is it?" I Q. "No," he A's. "I took the car down to get the truck. Now I need a ride down to get the car." I don't ask questions. Sometimes not knowing is better. Paul rides in the back (my wet laundry in front) and tells me jokes through the window. He says we have to stop meeting like this(second time in a week he's seen me driving around at odd hours in me red bathrobe). He asks questions. Going to Shawzys to dry clothes I am to wear out to Keolas b-day party at Hale Noa kava bar.
*Door is closed, but the open-door tone screams. I try to drive and hold pressure on the door. Turn up the classical. The tone faded behind violins and I was struck at how well it was camouflaged by the strings. Then I think of the social metaphor for this: a steady tone of warning, alerting the operators that something is in error. But the din of media neurosis screams higher than the warning, and the operators plow on through the cacophony of modernity.. Caca phony. I try to drive and pull the door tighter into the frame. I exhaust myself after a couple of miles. Let it go. Then the interior light flashes when I hit the shudder bump, like lightening flashes. The music doesn't help with this.
*Paul gives me a beer before he hops in his car. Between the beer the Chilean hooch and the dube I have an excuse not to drink the kava ( I like the kava, but the kava doesn't mix with the booze.), and not to spend money I don't have right now anyway.
* Shawzy, sitting in a pink kimono, is wrapping jewelry and surrounded by a treasure box of things from Carson in Chicago. Noel and I chat as the dryer spins. Belly dancer neighbor enters with warm chocolate peanut butter m&m cookies. Alex enters. I rant more about There. The There economy, the thrill of finding people to jump off Jesus' head with me. The mind numbing implications. I understand how the concept of the Matrix movie is manifesting. I could put in an IV drip and a catheter and somehow goggle my screen so that There is all I see. I could start a cyber nursery and design landscaping plants for the new community developments. A cyber plant wholesaler. In my spare time I could start a cult of Jesus jumpers. Flimflam them out of their money and sell them salvation in the cyberlife ("...afterlife was just an error in translation from Hebrew to English..."...Not the meek shall inherit the Earth my deluded young vixen, it is the geek. You embrace your geekieness as you embrace me..."). Then I look down at my finger and it's print and I fall in love with this world all over again. Nothing beats the thrill of mortality. Jumping off the head of reality and falling into the myth of separation, just for fun, not to be taken too seriously.
*Kava bar opted to close and party moved to Keolas house. A Wednesday garage party on a Monday. Low pro local musicians playing in the carport. Real people on real couches playing some real nice music in the late hours of a nice night. Low tones, respectful of the neighbors. Drummer playing trap like a cat: tata tat tata tat tata tat tat. Electric bass and unplugged ukuleles, big voices in island falsetto. We wish well the host. We parked rude and blocked someone so that we would have an excuse to leave early and retreat back to our Palolo homes. On cue we're asked to move and our appearance ended there.
*Home. Type this, or half of this, then crawled under the net. It is the next day now, the next night. Another day of adventure come and gone, un documented, not archived, live and unexpected. Then I go There to fly off Christo's head and fall down a mountain and run around in the desert.
Monday:
*Was still on the computer @ midnight as Monday rolled around. Stayed there 'til There closed @ around 3:35am. I am happy that There closes. I would not sleep otherwise.
*Sleep. Alarm sounds at 7:am. I hit snooze. I am supposed to fix water first thing this morning. I don't. Tired. Eyes bloodshot. Chilly in the mountain valley and the mud fresh and deep.
*Ant calls at 8:am. I don't get the phone though. My clock says it's 11:am. I panic for a moment, then turn to look at the light on the bamboo and banana leaves. I see that I reset the clock in one of my slapping snoozes. Sister calls half hour later. I don't get that either. I'm striving to clear my head, to prepare mentally for the day. Then dozing off again.
*I hear Ants truck pull in. I hop up and dress, walk downstairs and out. Check the Hong Kong Orchid airlayers. Fat. Ant and his Nephew unload and I get it together. Call Alan. Get fliers for plumarias.
*Meet Alan @ Coffee Talk. Coffee and bagel to go. I wore the wrong shirt. Was cool in the valley, but warm in the city. Long sleeve pullover (broken water; no laundry). BDU pants with a big knife shoved into my pant waist. Slippers. Asshole glasses. Folding saw in back pocket. Tree farmer costume.
*Drive Betty, loaded with plumarias, to Kahala, park her, ride with Alan to troll for trees. A timid transvestite talks to me through the veil of a white steel screen security door. I tell her that I want to trim her tree for free. Suspiciously she takes my card and says she'll talk to her boyfriend. Then gives me the once-over-up-and-down with her eyes and her face opens a bit. Bye bye.
*Find an old account from two years back. Five trees in the back. We get the ok to go. I call Ant and give our 20. Alan takes me back to Betty and I drive her to Waimanalo, drop plumaria cuttings at Koba's. Need 75 more. Back to Kahala.
*Alan cutting the last tree. 80 pieces. Excellent. Load. Back to Waimanalo. Finish the order. 200 6' to 12' cuttings. 215, actually. Bonus for them.
*Pick up a hitchhiker on the Makapu'u bend. Paraglider from Canada. He had the whole thing in a back pack. Wanted a ride to Koko Head crater (Hawai'ian name:----------Means Flaming Vaginal Lips?). Drop him there.
*Park in Aina Haina. Hop across the Kalanianole Highway to the center median. Cut seeds from manila palms.
*Stop for pizza at Boston's. On the way back to the farm up I pass Paul in his drive. He says he is waiting for someone to go down so that he could pick up his truck. "It's 4 o'clock, someone has to come down. "
*Go home. Feed animals, pilfer in the garden. Talk to Mayor Ted about using Betty to haul street sweeper leaf mulch from the University (peppered with nutritious pea gravel for an excellent loamy potting compost).
*Make calls. Arrange tomorrows schedule for me and the crew, Chings and Spizannos.
* Laundry at Camp Palolo. Uses Ritchies shower (hot high pressure water...mmmmmmmmmmmmmm....such a luxury). Drink some Chilean booze, _______. Smoke a dube. Rant about There and the implications, the applications, boggle their minds with my guilt stricken enthusiasm. Drop some papayas and split.
*I go There. Find people to Jump off Jesus's head with me.
*Hop in the truck. Door stuck. Hinge giving away. Damn. Pass Paul in his driveway. It's 10:pm. "Hey" we say. "Can I get a ride down?" he asks. "This isn't the same ride you were waiting on at four is it?" I Q. "No," he A's. "I took the car down to get the truck. Now I need a ride down to get the car." I don't ask questions. Sometimes not knowing is better. Paul rides in the back (my wet laundry in front) and tells me jokes through the window. He says we have to stop meeting like this(second time in a week he's seen me driving around at odd hours in me red bathrobe). He asks questions. Going to Shawzys to dry clothes I am to wear out to Keolas b-day party at Hale Noa kava bar.
*Door is closed, but the open-door tone screams. I try to drive and hold pressure on the door. Turn up the classical. The tone faded behind violins and I was struck at how well it was camouflaged by the strings. Then I think of the social metaphor for this: a steady tone of warning, alerting the operators that something is in error. But the din of media neurosis screams higher than the warning, and the operators plow on through the cacophony of modernity.. Caca phony. I try to drive and pull the door tighter into the frame. I exhaust myself after a couple of miles. Let it go. Then the interior light flashes when I hit the shudder bump, like lightening flashes. The music doesn't help with this.
*Paul gives me a beer before he hops in his car. Between the beer the Chilean hooch and the dube I have an excuse not to drink the kava ( I like the kava, but the kava doesn't mix with the booze.), and not to spend money I don't have right now anyway.
* Shawzy, sitting in a pink kimono, is wrapping jewelry and surrounded by a treasure box of things from Carson in Chicago. Noel and I chat as the dryer spins. Belly dancer neighbor enters with warm chocolate peanut butter m&m cookies. Alex enters. I rant more about There. The There economy, the thrill of finding people to jump off Jesus' head with me. The mind numbing implications. I understand how the concept of the Matrix movie is manifesting. I could put in an IV drip and a catheter and somehow goggle my screen so that There is all I see. I could start a cyber nursery and design landscaping plants for the new community developments. A cyber plant wholesaler. In my spare time I could start a cult of Jesus jumpers. Flimflam them out of their money and sell them salvation in the cyberlife ("...afterlife was just an error in translation from Hebrew to English..."...Not the meek shall inherit the Earth my deluded young vixen, it is the geek. You embrace your geekieness as you embrace me..."). Then I look down at my finger and it's print and I fall in love with this world all over again. Nothing beats the thrill of mortality. Jumping off the head of reality and falling into the myth of separation, just for fun, not to be taken too seriously.
*Kava bar opted to close and party moved to Keolas house. A Wednesday garage party on a Monday. Low pro local musicians playing in the carport. Real people on real couches playing some real nice music in the late hours of a nice night. Low tones, respectful of the neighbors. Drummer playing trap like a cat: tata tat tata tat tata tat tat. Electric bass and unplugged ukuleles, big voices in island falsetto. We wish well the host. We parked rude and blocked someone so that we would have an excuse to leave early and retreat back to our Palolo homes. On cue we're asked to move and our appearance ended there.
*Home. Type this, or half of this, then crawled under the net. It is the next day now, the next night. Another day of adventure come and gone, un documented, not archived, live and unexpected. Then I go There to fly off Christo's head and fall down a mountain and run around in the desert.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Late now. 00:24 on Wednesday and I don't know who the president will be. I suspect it's Georgie. I wonder how long I can go without finding out. I wonder if I could avoid finding out for a whole week. This is my goal. Success does not look good I fear. I will try to go as long as I can.
Monday, November 01, 2004
Bush and Kerry share genealogy. Both can trace their blood back to a Transylvanian guy called Vlad the Impaler, a real life character that inspired the fictional character Count Dracula.
The twin fangs of Bush and Kerry sucking our attention with their Punch and Judy routine: softcore S&M. This election has been a summer blockbuster the likes of which Hollywood only dreams. Vampire media eyes hypnotize concerned citizens. Concern focuses attention. Attention feeds ratings. Ratings sell ads. Ads brand us. Citizen becomes consumer. Leader becomes entertainer. Humanity produces tragicomedy. Enjoy the show!
Election over tomorrow. Bin Ladden tape has been transcribed. He makes more sense and is more articulate than the Cowboy. Played him for a chump then called him out. Perhaps the definition of the term terrorism will be read by people and the war on terror can conclude right back where it started. Then with all that excitement out of the way, the fear driven kitsch economy will surly lag and we will have to be dosed with an economic Viagra in the form of an even more insidious, everpresent danger to the American Brand Lifestyle.
The twin fangs of Bush and Kerry sucking our attention with their Punch and Judy routine: softcore S&M. This election has been a summer blockbuster the likes of which Hollywood only dreams. Vampire media eyes hypnotize concerned citizens. Concern focuses attention. Attention feeds ratings. Ratings sell ads. Ads brand us. Citizen becomes consumer. Leader becomes entertainer. Humanity produces tragicomedy. Enjoy the show!
Election over tomorrow. Bin Ladden tape has been transcribed. He makes more sense and is more articulate than the Cowboy. Played him for a chump then called him out. Perhaps the definition of the term terrorism will be read by people and the war on terror can conclude right back where it started. Then with all that excitement out of the way, the fear driven kitsch economy will surly lag and we will have to be dosed with an economic Viagra in the form of an even more insidious, everpresent danger to the American Brand Lifestyle.
The War on Relevance.
Maybe a war on InterDimensional Beings.
In order to protect yourself from IDB's it is essential to stay tuned to the TV. TV is your inoculation against the subtler influences that threaten to sweep you into the evolutionary stream. Do you wish to rush into a boundless sea of love and understanding? Of course you don't. That is not the American Way. Have you not witnessed a friend, relative, or member of your community that has fallen prey to this wickedness? Have you not seen the way the victims no longer relate well with normal consumers? It is a slow unfortunate downward spiral into simplicity and gnosis. Now how American can that be? To stop the spread of this unproductive mental influence, and preserve your American Brand way of life, report any suspicious, non-commercial activity. Hint: If it's not familiar to you, and you're an American, then it must be un-american.
In order to protect yourself from IDB's it is essential to stay tuned to the TV. TV is your inoculation against the subtler influences that threaten to sweep you into the evolutionary stream. Do you wish to rush into a boundless sea of love and understanding? Of course you don't. That is not the American Way. Have you not witnessed a friend, relative, or member of your community that has fallen prey to this wickedness? Have you not seen the way the victims no longer relate well with normal consumers? It is a slow unfortunate downward spiral into simplicity and gnosis. Now how American can that be? To stop the spread of this unproductive mental influence, and preserve your American Brand way of life, report any suspicious, non-commercial activity. Hint: If it's not familiar to you, and you're an American, then it must be un-american.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)