New project. Two questions. Many people.

Alien Ant Boy Dances to Quadraphonix:

Another incarnation bites the dust.

The DLNR will not extend the lease. I have until February 1st to find a new place to be. I don't think I can move the farm again. I'm selling all the stock that I can and trashing everything else. Lots of "art supplies" going back into the rubbish piles from whence they came.

Oh that magic feeling, no where to go.

Nostalgic.

I will continue with the art work. Will continue the video work. I'm hanging my show at Ong King on Friday.



Someone has been reading my blog. The were three comments on my posts this morning going all the way back to 2004. Anonymous knows me from LA it seems. Hello Anonymous.







Photo and video from Ka'ala Learning center in Waianae.

Timelapse of cration of a Wabi Sabi Xeriscape

The Real Dirt on Farmer John:

Amazing documentary on an organic farming pioneer.

View trailer below

New project: As if I didn't have enough going on.

Here is a link to my latest art/media endeavor. ( NomadDiner ) At this point, the offer is limited to Hawai'i. If you live in aonther country, I can come and custom design a plant for your house, but you have to cough up the air fare.

I have two dinner reservations so far. Stay tuned for the videos.

Layers of the Onion.
Peeling off the outer
or emerging from the inner,
Fractal repeats in the funhouse mirror
distorted enough to give me pause
but not to doubt the cause of the reflection






Shadow self waves at the object
between it and the source of light
Happy to see it wave back
Glad it is so responsive
Seeing only silouette
It seems they are the same.




Light eclipsed
shadow fades away
Lost in the umbra of the world

This is a toad that jumped into a black bucket in my yard. I don't know how long he had been there when I found him, but he was completely desicated. Toad mummy.

I quit. You heard me.




My teeth hurt now.

New VaporPuppet Video: DMT - 1



DMT - 2


DMT -3

If Humpty had Sought a Second Opinion...







I don't know what Humpty Dumpty's motivations were for sitting on a wall. He seemed like an innocent enough fellow, from the pictures I've seen. It has been reported that when he fell, the King sent all his horses, and all his men to try and "put him back togeather" again. Am I the only one that finds it suspicious that the King sent his horses to perform such a delicate task? All of them, no less. What was the king thinking when he sent all of his men to deal with a broken egg? What happened to Humpty after the failed operations? Did he die? or was he just a contract player in a false flag operation designed to create a spectacle while the King and his administration pulled one over on the kingdom? Who was Humpty to compel the king to devote so many resources to his falling off a wall?

Hello.

I've made a commitment to start writing again. Privately. I will write every night for the next year, off this blog, but will likely post excerpts from the effort.

I made a determination to write every day for a year back in 1993. It turned into four years. The process gave birth to the person that I am today, whoever that is. It moved me into the world of poetry and performance with a tone and a clear perspective.

I've felt fuzzy of late. A lot of hazy gazing at the blinking blue screen, actively assimilating outside content into my subjectivity, in lieu of creativity. I had to vegitate a bit. I dugg it well enough. But no can digg dat at da expense of dis, no moah.

I checked my clicker and saw that 28 people visited this blog today (Hello Aurora, Ill). I was surpried that many people were checking into a blog that is updated so infrequently.

Aloha

For all those out there going through rough times...

Weekly World News comes to an end.

The Worlds Only Reliable Newspaper will be no more. Has Spy Cat turned double agent?

New Mobile works:

In our WTF section today: Executive Order: Blocking Property of Certain Persons Who Threaten Stabilization Efforts in Iraq

Go to Whitehouse.gov for full transcript of Executive Order

Beautifully vague language. Especially the part about anyone who "poses a significant risk of committing, an act or acts of violence that have the purpose or effect of:..." ..."undermining efforts to promote economic reconstruction and political reform in Iraq..."

Using this language, a person or persons invloved in a war protest in the U.S. could be easily construed as undermining efforts in the war in Iraq. So, now, without Habeus Corpus, an entire war protest could be rounded up and hauled off without due process: plus having all of their possessions and assets confiscated.

That is just one scenario. The language is broad enough to have implications for media descent, as well as any sponsors of that media. So much for the 5th Amendment.

If you live in the U.S. and are even slightly suspicious of the Neo-Con phenomenon,The click on this LINK HERE. It puts this most recent Executive Order in a context. A context of many possible contexts. Attention Hollywood writers: Take the scenario found in THIS LINK write a movie around it. After you deliver it to your agent to shop around, remember THIS.



I noticed an article yesterday about a backlog of people trying to get their US Passports. The process is taking longer, and the number of people looking to leave the country is spiking. Food for thought.

Whacky.

I’m exhausted. I’m tired from not doing stuff. I’m worn out from not being excited.

I can fly but I don’t do it. I stopped doing it because I didn’t want to show off. I didn’t want to make people feel inadequate. At least that was a rationale that I found living in my head.

How did that rationale get there? When did I choose to clip my own wings? I can fly like you can in your dreams. It’s not that dog paddle flying, where you struggle against the gravitational pull, flailing arms and legs and needing a running start and a slope completely free of objects because the struggle to get a little air is so all consuming that you can’t steer the wimpy momentum to keep you from crashing into whatever just happens to be there.

No, I can take off like smoke from a damp bonfire. I can be hurled into the sky with no effort other than the notion that I’m going to do it. I can zip from one place to another like a cursor on the command of a finger.

Problem is I can only do it when no one is looking, or when everyone that is looking knows I can do it, because they know that they can do it too.

The telephone came out around the same time that people in large numbers were realizing that we could communicate over time and space with our minds if we just decided to do it.

Cinema came at a time when the storytellers of the world had evolved to the point where well-crafted tales were inspiring people to hatch out of the shells of political and religious dogma. Much easier to fall under the spell of Hollywood magick spectacles and worship the worthless flesh and bone stars that liked to play make believe so that we poor huddled masses had a glimmer of light in our little lives.

The secret wisdom of the witches and the wizards was hemorrhaging into the collective when those lazy bastards the Wright brothers distracted everyone with their toy planes. And we neglected to check in with the subtle nature of the human spirit as we plummeted into servitude as a race of spectators that just went to work and saved our pennies so that we could shovel them at the hacks that liked to tell us that we are so much less interesting than they are.

I found myself sitting in front of my very slick glowing typewriter scanning the web for the thinnest thread of information that might dangle into my busy lifestyle and inspire me to believe that the human endeavor was worth continuing in this world where options become products, and the spell of mind control is sold to us as Chaos.

“Oh yes, the world has gone crazy, and mad men want to kill you, but don’t worry, we’ll protect you, just crawl under our thumb and you’ll be safe.”

Don’t tell people they can fly, you idiot! Or you’ll be responsible for the poor fools jumping out of windows to their death. Fuck those people. As bill hicks said, “You don’t see ducks taking elevators to the top floor to try their first shot and catching air.” If people are dumb enough to think they should give it a go from the top floor instead of lifting off from the ground, let em go. I’ll gladly volunteer to scrape their worthless bodies of the pavement rather than having to negotiate the bastards trudging around on the streets and blabbering on about what the shadow puppets say life is all about.

No, I trust that people will try it out in their yard first, or the park, or the open mic, or with a mentor that has done it before them and can give them a pointer or two. I’m not the only one that can fly. Some of you can do it too. I’ve seen it, and you know what I’m talking about. The secret is out. You don’t have to keep it to yourself anymore. I can fly, and you can fly, and we can get together and catch the breeze when we feel like it.

I have the perfect place for it. You can feel free to come and spread your wings at my little place outside town. My rates are reasonable… You know, I can’t afford to provide this service for free, But I have an easy payment plan and discount rates for groups. The more people that you can bring to my little patch of freedom, the cheaper the rate for you, friend.

[Cash or credit card, no personal checks. I do not provide personal instruction, only inspirational advice. Freedom Flyers is a Limited Liability Corporation and cannot be held responsible for individuals inability to recognize their own ability to fly. ]

Chinatown by Dark: promo sample for documentary I'm working on.

Revolution/Evolution, Ya ya ya.

I am not 23 anymore. When I think about me, I think of 23.

When I was 23 I was enlightened. The world opened up to me. Or, I opened up to it.

I was connected to everything and everyone inseperably.

Now, I say I was connected, even though I know I am, because that is how I feel as I write right now.

I sit in a house in the country in the night. The geckos laugh and the singing bugs score the space around. A car drives by on occasion. A rooster crows periodically because they do that here, until the dawn, when they all join in a chorus.

I am not 23 anymore, I am 38, doing what I said I would not do when I was 23, which is talking about not being 23 any more.

I do not feel 38. I do not feel 23. I do not feel anything, on purpose.

I turned on and tuned in and dropped out. I dropped back in to share what I had found out there, and lost what I had grasped on the return.

It is a memory now and not an experience. A dream.



The rain falls now, on the greenhouse outside the window. The roof was built to protect the flowers underneath from the hot harsh rays of the sun. Now the water from the sky runs into the gutters and pours into the weeds. Now, the flowers need a human hand to care for them, or else they dry up in their shade.

All the things to do became all the things not done and now I look at them with dread and wonder what it was I thought.

Ritual became habitual, and that was kicked for nothing else in particular. Routene of default thrives in the onslaught of mana misdirected.

Hoku the cat cleans herself obsessively on the coffee table, and the licking sounds have my jaw clenching tightly.

Doing what I did does not work. Working as I do does not seem to get things done. I'd wonder what I was doing if I cared to.

The crickets don't care. The gecko's don't care. The cats don't care.

The roosters have been quiet since I mentioned them earlier. The sun will prod them soon. I will sleep before that happens.

Zeitgeist Follow up: Waking Life

Alex Jones Rant



Theory and action

The most important post I have ever made: ZEITGEIST

This is a follow up post to yesterdays Psychological test post.

Ok, people of Earth. Here it is. It's not a conspiracy theory. It's not a commercial product meant to stimulate you as a consumer. It's not a biased hatchet job meant to pit US against THEM. It's an honest wake up call from a neighbor telling you that the house is on fire. It's nearly two hours long, so watch it when you can afford the time. Or watch it in segments.

In my opinion, this film is more important than Loose Change, An Inconvienient Truth, Sicko, ETC. It's beautifuly done. Well edited and not redundant. It's time to stop arguing and start arming ourselves with relevent information.



Go to Google Video to watch it full screen.

You can also find it in sections on YouTube (they keep getting pulled, for some reason, but they also keep getting reposted).

Thanks for playing.

Zeit·geist [tsahyt-gahyst]
–noun German.
the spirit of the time; general trend of thought or feeling characteristic of a particular period of time.

Hi.
Ok.

Now watch this video clip from NBC and play along with the exercise. Don't read anything else in this entry until you watch the whole video.



Now scroll down for Gonzo/Expert analysis....


















Ok. Now we see that the Whie Shirt misdirection has led us to edit out the obvious beast that stands center frame.

Now how do we apply this to daily life?

"Watch the white haired heiress...Watch the White Collar "politicons"...Watch the prescribed distraction while you are robbed of your human rights, dignity, and future by the greedy beasts parading in unlikely costumes in plain view.


And no, this is not a black/white thingy. There is a full spectrum of mindfuck going on here.

Mike Gravel rocks. This is, by far, my favorite political ad I have ever seen.

"Rock"



It may not win him the democratic nomination, but it confirms why I took to him after the first democratic debate. It's a bold move. Compare the above video to the one below. Though the one below is from a Japanese game show, it's indicative of what marketers have stooped to in order to draw viewers in from the millions of videos available on the web. Warning: the video below may be the most bizarre clip you have ever seen. Ironic that I found them both last night within minuites of each other:

X-Factor Promo vid for this Fri @ OngKing:

Super bufundo on the early eve of your day.

Mini Media Fest:


If you haven't seen Waking Life yet, you are missing one of the best movies of the last century. It's old news to some, I know, but easy access to this film is difficult to come by in many places in this world. Namely, Oklahoma. I wanted to rent it for my nieces last time I was in the heartland, but couldn't find it anywhere. I talked to one librarian, and she said it dissappeared each time she replaced it. A community that censors togeather stays togeather...

Speaking of censorship:


The aniversary of the Peoples Revolt in Tieneman Square just passed. In this Documentary on the man that stood in front of the tanks, I discovered that current students that attend the school that started the revolt had never seen the picture of Tank Man, nor did they know much about the revolt. Mind boggling.


Just watched a great documentary on the only Heavy Metal band to come out of Baghdad. "Heavy Metal in Baghdad" is an amazing look inside Iraq, and the outside that the Iraqi's have been forced to flee to. These documentary film makers are my heros, just as much as those young men in the band, Acrassicauda. Part 1 of 7 above from YouTube (You can find a better resolution version of all 7 parts [5 to 6 min each], and extended clips @ VBS.TV



A strange little gem. This was a scene from a show that I had never seen, American Inventor. This clip struck me as a metaphor for what we, as a nation, could have done to George Bush and the Neo-Con agenda if representative politics still worked on a national level. In this clip, W and the Neo-Con base are represented by the Cowboy, and the four judges represent, say, a real representative Govenment.


Ok. One more Waking Life clip (I have a feeling I'll be posting them on a regular basis for a while).

Hearing Voices. Poem from 2001.

The Sun does not set...
It is we who do the turning

The Game

I discovered that my computer will read to me. I highlighted a transcript of an old jounal from the Los Angeles years.

Sitting @ the Waimanalo bus stop. A large pidgin speaker sat down beside me on the bench.

“Dat good beeah?” he indicated the Red Bull in my hand. No, not beer. Energy Drink. I took the last glug and started to get up to throw it away.


“No no no, take a shot.” A pole partially obscured the trash can on the up wind side. I calculated the wind then threw it around the outside of the poll. Two points.

“Yea, ya made it.” He cheered. You always gotta take a shot, brah,. If ya miss you jus pick it up.”

An epic dream this morning. It didn’t want to let me out of bed. It was the story. The story I’ve been working on forever. And of course, it is fleeing my mind as I write.

It’s a fast paced scenario, fevered with urgency. The Hero is running, down a low rent street, part to and part from. He turns to enter a house to run trough it. In the living room there is a cardboard and net structure with a man lying in it, like you would see in an alleyway in downtown LA. As I run past it he reaches out and grabs my ankle and stops me. He jumps out all deranged and messy. He is angry and yelling about the price of eggs. He points to two cartons in the basket of a shopping cart saying that $2.55 is insane. I try to empathize, yes that is insane. I cannot calm him. There are other people in the house, kids, teens, they are trying to calm him too, but he is now enraged and ranting. He pulls out a gun and shoots at me, I run to the back of the house and close a door behind me. I start to go for the window out, but there is a woman in there. Older, rough and sexy in a retired madam kind of way. The room is small and cluttered. She is willing to escort me to the window, but brushes up against me, puts her arm around me as we squeeze past junk. Then, at the window she feels my erection and smiles up at me as if to say that we could roll around a bit before I run. When I look down, there is a short old woman that is squeezed between us, and she is a bit shocked by my erection, that is close to her face. I jump out the window, and crash to the ground, rolling, then up and running.



I encounter someone else that might be me in a different state, and he is putting it together. He is building a shrine of clues. A larges Buddhist statue, with a Japanese warrior doll on top, clues are arranged around it, one in a spring loaded device, all representing the story, and how it happens. I then find myself in some old mechanics garage. There are people there that seem to be engaged in the same fever as me. One guy lifts up a curtain between the garage and an auto shop next door. Behind the curtain are racks of soda for the employees. The guy steals loads of bottles and cans then drops the curtain back. Then the shrine maker enters with a lawyer. The lawyer was the one I worked with last year on the land lease issue., but now he was different, younger, stylishly dressed, with great hair. He is talking about the event that he has just pulled the shrine maker from, some kind of heist/wreckage the night before. He’s acting like the good gangster lawyer that will get the guy off and around the problem no matter what.




Next, I step out a door of some shabby beach house that is sandwiched among others and I hang my bag on a tree and enter the water. I lay down in the gentle surf, but notice that there is a layer of muddy silt over the sand. Then the water recedes and there are just a few pools of water trapped by cement barriers. The receding ocean reveals a ruined city street scene. There are turtles, Galapagos kind, exposed in the pools of water, also crayfish, and large tadpoles with their legs struggling to expedite their transition to land animals. I run for my camera hanging in the bag on the tree, but meet people that know me, through the land battles I’ve been through. We talk story a bit in passing, and I tell my side of the story. Eyebrows rise. I see in the street water large crayfish, then larger, then fantastic flowing furry tiger crayfish six feet in length, their long orange and black hair flowing as they scuttle along the street streams.




Then I turn to look at the shrine to study it, as I am coming awake into this writing world. I examine the shrine pieces like I’m trying to remember aspects of the dream. I touch something and the spring-loaded thing goes off. The more I try to repair, the more the thing collapses like a house of cards. The shrine builder comes over and wants to know what the hell I am doing. I explain that it’s ok, that it was supposed to happen this way.

Spin: A very nice short film. I likey. No words, says lots. Charming.

I have a little map on the bottom of this page. When I click on it, I am informed where visitors are viewing from.

I don't know how you found my blog or why you visit, but I appreciate it. When I see that Durango Colorado checks UndeadWords once a week or so, It makes me feel like I should have something new and interesting for Durango. And my Kailua visitor, and Honolulu, and Tokyo, and that person in Georgia. And LA. Someone in LA checks me once in a while. I have readers now. Few and far between, but steady. I started this blog because my note books kept molding in the jungle, and Blogger gave me a place to store my journal off site and dry.

I want to write more, I need to. For my sanity. And for you. I want to serve a function in this world. I want to contribute. I like to feel that my humble perspective might prove useful to some other, or others. I'm not going to ask what you want to hear from me. I write about whatever the moment evokes. This isn't a political blog, news blog, sex blog, buisiness blog, or tech blog, because I'm too interested in all of the above. It's just me here, and a little this and that.



I want to be inspired. I want to be stimulated by other people. I need it. Out of all the people cascading through the vast channels of the mainstream media, the world wide web, the cellular technology, how many of them grab you by the cajones and make you want to respond? (Not react. Respond: take action of your own.) I see a few.

They are there. George Bush makes me want to respond. I would really like to spend a week with George, to get to know each other. Not debate, criticise, condemn, or lecture. Just chit chat.

I'm afraid George has insulated himself from real people who have direct experience with the real world. I think George might have a mutated case of Stockholm Syndrome where he has identefied with his captor. Who could George's captor be? Demographics. His base is a political concept that people have subscribed to. Particular people with particular traits. Particularly, people that eagerly sacrifice their cognitive sovereignty for the ease of dichotomy, then only embrace half of that.




Dictator Enablers from Central Casting, extras that crowd around the King for the tight shot.

When do we EVER see him in a socially relaxed encounter, where actual communication can happen between him and people? Sure, there are a lot sychophants in this country, that politicos have to wade through in crowd scenes. and sure, even witty, reasonably intelligent people socially choke in the presense of Power. The commercial press has failed its duty as the 4th estate. We need to go talk to him ourselves. In addition to State Representatives, we could have MindState representatives as well.

Working in the Cyber Age on Industrial Age social mechanisms.




The politically engineered Demographic is turning into Frankensteins Monster. Easily spooked and pickle-brained. When are we going to realize that Fundamentalist Christians and Fundementalist Muslims are mentally arrested, cognitively truncated menaces to the general good? We need to recognize them as such as soon as possible so that they can recieve our sympathy instead of our juvinile taunting. These people need help. Help me help you help us help them, won't you? Run for a MindState Representative Seat, elect yourself, then demand to have an immidiate conference with George to discuss the concerns of the MindState that you Represent. Organize a few MindState Representatives, then you could be a MindState Senator. Shit, run for President of the United MindStates of the Planet, then tell George that you want him to come see you for a conferrence. Why not.




I like Mike Gravel. I like the way he talks. I like what he says. He's believable.



I like this guy too.



::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Hey. Had to post this Alex Jones clip from YouTube. It's part one of many from Alex's latest radio broadcast (go to TouTube for the rest). Whatever you think about Jones, the info is timely. Main issues: Bush's new trick-"Bush Anoints Himself as the Insurer of Constitutional Government in Emergency" (link to recent Progressive article), and:



Ron Paul vs. Giuliani on 9/11. The divide between consensus reality and media reality has never been more blatant.

Will affix hyperlinks soon. Meanwhile, use the Google.

Hello. I’m back. And my back is doing much better.

Last Wednesday I was performing my weed whacker Tai Chi on some particularly gnarly cane grass. It felt good. My friend the whacker had been out of whack for six weeks or so. (I had leaned it against the house while I went to water the farm. When I returned it was lying in the deep weeds, throttle broken and gas cap missing. Khandahar the guard dog had wrapped her chain around it and must have run all over the place trying to escape it.) I was so happy to have it back. I bought some new line that has teeth and I’m thrilled with it. I felt like I was carving the land with a light saber.

I was slicing through California grass that was five feet high with a one foot matt of runners at the bottom. This new line took it on like no other I have used before. But even this stuff can’t touch the cane grass. Some of these clumps are twelve feet tall with a dense, two-foot wide base. I had to put the blade attachment on for that. I think I need a new blade.

Even with a new blade this shit is formidable. I have to use the whacker like a scythe, hacking at the base of the clump repeatedly. I turned off the whacker after a good run then started walking to the gas can when PING, my lower back threw a rod or busted a spring or something. I dropped to the ground in excruciating pain and rested on my hands and knees for a few minutes to wait it out. It didn’t go away. I tried stretching (a little too late). No luck. I walked back to the house and took a muscle relaxer and researched back pain on the Google, finding no satisfactory remedy that I could perform on myself.

So I lay down and took a nap. When I awoke the pain was dominating. I was starving and a little dehydrated. I worked my way to the kitchen to make some food, turned on the skillet, then… I don’t know what happened. I didn’t pass out. I partially blacked out, I think, and fell backward onto the corner of the pantry and must have slid to the floor. After a moment I pulled myself up and went to the bathroom, where I blacked out again, falling full force on my elbows. The pain in my back overrode whatever damage I was doing to myself with the falls. It wasn’t until a few hours later, when Carson came home, that I saw the damage. I had an eight-inch line down my right shoulder that was missing skin, and both my elbows were pretty bruised. This was very unfortunate since I really need my elbows to support me now without a functioning back. Smackdown.

Yesterday, on Mike’s suggestion, I went to visit Christa for some therapy. I’d never had acupuncture before, and am not fond of the thought of needles, but I trust the practitioner. After having two fingers caught in a hedge trimmer two weeks ago, and red alert back pains, how bad could a few needles be?

I was told that the needles in my lower back danced for a bit after insertion. Malady and medicine doing the tango.

Doing better today. Moving around without the wincing. Until I think of the property and the land lease scenario.

Another Blog...



I have been writing propaganda. Check out the Oahu Sustainability League blog @
www.osl1.blogspot.com

Sunday, May 20th : Kaimuki


Walked to the bus stop in Waimanalo. Took the bus to Kahala mall to transfer to Kaimuki. I sat on a bench in the shade of the H-1 freeway above. I pulled out an egg and started filing it. Then it slipped and fell to the concrete . It broke. I gathered the two main halves and put them back together, putting a few of the loose parts inside it., then slipped it into my shirt pocket. A minute later I pulled out another egg and started filing it. A man tanned brown and grinning through his glasses ask me what I was doing. I moved to his bench and showed him the egg I was working on He looked it over and told me it was nice. Then he looked me in the eye and introduced himself as Buck. Buck Cruz. He shared aloha and we bumped fists. He told me that he made tiny ships. We talked a bit . He told me that he was homeless because rent was too high, and that he’d recently been released from Halawa Prison after serving two years for growing Marijuana. We both agreed that the drug laws are silly, and that alcohol was far more dangerous. He was drunk, told me he was an alcoholic. He told me he was OCD, the asked me if I knew what that was. I handed him the egg again and said yes. He asked me to tell him. He seemed to want to be sure that I knew. I said Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He said right, the pointed out that he was clean, and that when he had a house it was spotless, all the cans in the pantry stacked neatly, vacuumed, wiped and tidy. He wore a baseball cap and a USC t-shirt. He pointed out that he was missing his top front teeth and moved his salt and pepper mustache to demonstrate the fact. He told me he has a twin brother, and that he took the heat for something his brother did, at the price of his teeth. I told him the egg was his. Knowing he is homeless, I told him to feel free to give it away, sell it, barter it whatever. We bumped fists. He initiated a lot of fist bumping in the short time we sat and waited for the No. 1. He told me he is part Korean, I think, and Spanish, and haole too. He took off his watch to show me the lighter band of skin to prove he was haole. Then he said, ‘yep, I’m haole’ as if to bond with my haolieness., in a way similar to alcoholics acknowledging each others AA-ness. I think he wanted me to know that it was ok that I was haole. More fist bumping. We discovered that both of us had Palolo as an address in our past. The bus came. The seats in front we open and I sat in one and offered the other to Buck. He thought it was best to move to the back of the bus, leave the front for the old people. We sat in the back and I told him about my metaphorical synesthesia. He wanted to be clear about what a metphor is. I gave him a few examples and he indicated that he understood. I explained that I experienced the world through two modalities at once,. Sometimes conversations had both a consensus meaning and a metaphorical one. Sometimes paying attention to a person and their actions could yield iconic allegories. We left it there and I hopped off on Waialae, came in here and wrote this.

Fuck it.

Politics: State of the Art Bullshit

I avoid politics usually. It's hard to touch upon the subject without walking away covered in it, tar baby that it is as a topic of discussion. I think that to talk about politics from a either/or, left/right, perspective is to fall prey to a divisive wedge that destroys the chances of a discussion to be constructive. We are a divided and conquered nation. Choosing a side is suicide. If we as a people, as a nation, as a species are going to survive with any remnant of civility, we must recognise each other as necessary. We must accept the paradox of you and me being one. That is impossible to do as long as we view the world from the perspective of an individual identity, only. I am hungry , I want sex, I want to do as I want to do, but not without considering you. Having sex with someone else that doesn't want to is rape. Filling my belly while you look on hungerly is greed. It is easy to agree on these things when the instances include only a few people, easily dicerned as individuals. But what happens when we turn them into abstracts like race, nationality, theology, or species specificality? Depends on your identity.

Ask someone what they are, and what will they say? Depends. Depends on their perspective. First thought might be boy, or girl, or homosexual, or muslim, or alchoholic, or American. How many would immediately say they are human when asked what they are? Humanity undelies all those identities, yet the obviousness of it has made it obscure in terms of self identity. So we skip our humanity and say that we're hippies, or hindus or firemen, or victims. The we compare and contrast the differences between us at the expense of our unity, our ability to identify with each other, That is a great expense.

It has been said that true innovations often emerge long before the world is ready to embrace them. When motion pictures were first shown in theatres, a great many members of the audience couldn't see them. They just saw strobing lights, and many walked out nauseous and with headaches. As time passed, those reactions faded, even though the theatre contained first time viewers, and even though the quality of the projections hadn't changed. Conjecture says that the species adjusted.

Thirty years ago large numbers of people, what has been called a counter culture, became aware of our interconnectedness. The awareness was not necessarily an intellectual perspective, but an actual experience. Talk of such an experience caused violent reactions in many that had not shared that experience. An orphaned awareness left in the fringe of our society, Left to survive in the wild parts of the cultural landscape. The awareness has matured now, and civilization has sprawled into its territory.

Will we allow this awareness to be killed off by destroying its habitat through semantic assasination? Or will we learn to embrace the unfamiliar, each other?

Dan Burish: Spook, Kook, or The Real Deal?

This video is two hours long. I like it. It picks up some threads that I started weaving after watching The Montauk Project video back in '93.

If this is insanity or fiction, it's still entertaining. If I allow myself to suspend disbelief and take it as this guys actual experience, then... Well..

I was especially interested in the Lotus Project. My mind tried it on and liked it, and has been wearing it all week.

At any rate, It's not for everyone. I think you will have to have at least a little conspiracy fetish to dig it.



UPDATE: 5-21-07

Eh, doesn't work on Google any more.

Go here for the source of the video: Project Camelot- "Out from under Majestic: Dan Burisch uncensored"

New Huevos...

The words come late. I think they always came late, and I was usually up to meet them. I have been going to sleep earlier.

I need to be using my words. I feel a need to write stuff that gives people impressions of what I want to convey to them, in a way that people want to read them. Must propagandize.

I started a league yesterday. I'm the only one in it at this point. I created a web log for the league. Because I don't know how to set up a web site. Now I have to put a link at the bottom of the league log, so people can affiliate somehow. An e-mail address I guess. League log link later. Tired already.

Stay Tuned...

Hyperlink on Blogger with a Mac...

Finally figured out to hyperlink on Blogger with a mac: Use firefox (or another browser) not Safari

Rick Mathes: Living Urban Legend.

Bad People! Bad, Bad People!

Ugh. My Mom strikes again. Sent me another one of those right wing propaganda FWD:'s.

I couldn't help it. I had to reply, to her, and every email address I could find on the FWD:, which was quite a few.

I sent a lot of feathers a'rufflin' when I did this last time (See July 4th 2006 entry).

I can't stop myself though.

Here: a window into the world of my family-




Friends and Family-

Please visit: http://www.breakthechain.org/exclusives/rickmathes.html for more information on the Jesus vs. Allah debate.


Taking this story at face value promotes fear and hatred under the guise of Christian love. It is hypocritical, and it is dangerous.

Did anyone who received this email look into it?

How many of you actually know a Muslim?

I know many. Our children have played togeather. They don't want to kill me, or you,

This story is out of context. Written about one man, by one man.

Now, will you that received the original chain letter email as a happy confirmation of your predjudices be willing send out THIS chain letter to right a wrong perception? Or will you let it slide and be complicit in the promotion of hate and fear?

Promoting and distributing this kind of propaganda is dangerous and reprehensible.

Sincerely

Xxxxx Xxxxxxxx

(3/24/2004) Since the horrible events of September 11, 2001, the Islamic faith, and those who follow it, have been the subjects of intense scrutiny and distrust. Desperate to know why so many innocent people had to die, many have tried to "prove" that the Muslim faith is intrinsically violent. Given this social tone, it is not surprising that this chain letter, supposedly putting one of Islam's own on the spot, has become so popular. At the very least, we can say this is a one-sided account of real events.
SAMPLE CHAIN LETTER TEXT
By Rick Mathes
Last month I attended my annual training session that's required for maintaining my state prison security clearance. During the training session there was a presentation by three speakers representing the Roman Catholic, Protestant and Muslim faiths who explained their belief systems. I was particularly interested in what the Islamic Imam had to say.
The Imam gave a great presentation of the basics of Islam, complete with a video. After the presentations, time was provided for questions and answers. When it was my turn, I directed my question to the Imam and sked, "Please, correct me if I'm wrong, but I understand that most Imams and clerics of Islam have declared a holy jihad [Holy war] against the infidels of the world and, that by killing an infidel, which is a command to all Muslims, they are assured of a place in heaven. If that's the case, can you give me the definition of an infidel?"
There was no disagreement with my statements and without hesitation he replied, "Non-believers!"
I responded, "So, let me make sure I have this straight. All followers of Allah have been commanded to kill everyone who is not of your faith so they can go to Heaven. Is that correct?"
The expression on his face changed from one of authority and command to that of a little boy who had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He sheepishly replied, "Yes."
I then stated, "Well, sir, I have a real problem trying to imagine Pope John Paul commanding all Catholics to kill those of your faith or Pat Robertson or Dr. Stanley ordering Protestants to do the same in order to go to Heaven!"
The Imam was speechless.
I continued, "I also have problem with being your friend when you and your brother clerics are telling your followers to kill me. Let me ask you a question! ...would you rather have your Allah who tells you to kill me in order to go to Heaven or my Jesus who tells me to love you because I am going to Heaven and wants you to be with me?"
You could have heard a pin drop as the Imam hung his head in shame.
Chuck Colson once told me something that has sustained me these 20 years of prison ministry. He said to me, "Rick, remember that the truth will prevail."
And it will!
END CHAIN LETTER TEXT
Rick Mathes and his wife, Trish, are the founders of Mission Gate Prison Ministries, an outreach to those who are incarcerated and their families. The essay above was offered in the ministry's subscription newsletter and appears in the version above unchanged from its original. Some versions, however, have changed. Most notably, some have added preface or postscript notes that lack the validity of Mathes original, but have become seamlessly integrated with it. Also, some versions have fallen victim to e-mail spell-checkers and incorrectly list the author's name as "Rick Mattes" or "Rich Mattes."



The veracity of the claims made in it, however, is the author's to prove. Unfortunately, Rick Mathes told BreakTheChain.org that he will not provide further details because, in his words, "I fear retribution - I have a 20 year prison ministry to protect."
Third-party accounts of the events in question paint a significantly different picture than the one offered by Mathes. Tim Kniest, spokesman for the Missouri Department of Corrections, told the Lee news service that the training session in question was for prison volunteers and took place in a corrections facility in Fulton, MO. However, according to Kniest, prison officials' recollection of events that day differ from Mathes' in several aspects:
0. Religious leaders representing faiths followed by current inmates were invited to present.
0.
0. The presenter on Islam was not an Imam, but rather a Muslim inmate who was pressed into presenting after no Imam could be arranged.
0.
0. Prison officials confirm that the Muslim inmate was asked a few questions that he was unable to answer, but none along the lines of those suggested by Mr. Mathes.
Mathes, however, maintains that his is an accurate account, using the facts he knew at the time, and did go into some more detail making the encounter seem less antagonistic than his original account:
"...the inmate was introduced as an 'Imam'. Mr. Kneist was not there to know what was said or not and cannot disprove that what I wrote wasn't said. In fact when I said, 'I have a hard time being your friend when your faith says to kill me to go to heaven.' everyone burst out laughing. When his presentation was over and it was time for a break, we all felt sorry for the inmate including my self. In fact I gave him a sign and said 'Salaam' and he responded with a knowing smile. Knowing that there wasn't any animosity between us.
"I really asked the questions I needed to know the answers to and he did not respond as I thought he would have. I expected him to defend this "jihad" thing as rebel Muslims using religion to cloak their evil deed in.
"His silence leads me to conclude that either he was ignorant of his faith, was caught off guard and speechless, or agreed with my premise and conclusion (which I think he was).
"I am getting 24 emails in favor of the article to 1 against. We all agree that there is a "simmering volcano" in the Muslim community. Give me an Imam that will sing "God Bless America" or will say the "Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag" and I will listen to them discredit the fears we have about the Muslim community and all that we see and hear in the media. Until the American Muslim community speaks up, I have my doubts about those who join them."
Nonetheless, this essay falls short of being the proof that Islam's leaders cannot deny the violent nature of their own religion that many would have it be. Since both sides of the argument have recognized that the person Mathes was questioning was not an Islamic official nor a recognized expert in the religion, his actions should not be considered indicative of all Muslims. Break this chain.


Friends and Family-

Please visit: http://www.breakthechain.org/exclusives/rickmathes.html for more information on the Jesus vs. Allah debate.


Taking this story at face value promotes fear and hatred under the guise of Christian love. It is hypocritical, and it is dangerous.

Did anyone who received this email look into it?

How many of you actually know a Muslim?

I know many. Our children have played togeather. They don't want to kill me, or you,

This story is out of context. Written about one man, by one man.

Now, will you that received the original chain letter email as a happy confirmation of your predjudices be willing send out THIS chain letter to right a wrong perception? Or will you let it slide and be complicit in the promotion of hate and fear?

Promoting and distributing this kind of propaganda is dangerous and reprehensible.

Sincerely

David Kendrick

Glen Baumert update and back story:

Letter to the Mayor of Mayes County:

To whom it may concern:

My Name is Xxxxx Xxxxxxxx. I am a former resident of Pryor Oklahoma. I
am writing in an attempt to find someone in Mayes County that can help
me understand what is happening to my friend Glen Baumert.

Glen is serving a 90-day jail sentence in Mayes County Jail for
possession of a marijuana joint.

I know there is a stigma attached to marijuana due to its
criminalization, though marijuana itself is far less dangerous to the
community than alcohol and many prescription drugs. It is arguable
that there is no actual crime in growing, possessing or imbibing
marijuana, if the definition of crime is causing harm to ones self or
the community.

The purpose of this letter is not to debate the integrity of drug
enforcement in Mayes County, though I must note that the sentence far
exceeds what would have been dealt in many other states and counties
that have recognized the harsh penalties for a relatively innocuous
substance does more damage to the people and the state than good.

Glen lives in Colorado and was back in Pryor to visit his children. He
was driving a borrowed vehicle while in town. During a traffic stop it
was discovered that there was a gun under the seat that belonged to
the owner of the vehicle. Glen was searched and was charged with
felony gun possession and possession of a marijuana joint.

In a plea bargain the gun charge was dropped and Glen was sentenced to
10 years in the Dept. of Corrections and pled out for 90 days jail
time for a single marijuana cigarette.

Glen is a convicted felon. Shortly after high school he was sentenced
to 10 years for giving a single Valium to an informant that approached
him for the sole purpose of setting him up in order to lessen the time
she would serve for being arrested for possession of scheduled drugs.
In her plea bargain, she was asked by the police to cooperate in a
sting operation: she would benefit if she could serve up
five other 'bad' guys. She approached Glen for drugs complaining she
needed them for pain. Glen offered her a single Valium. For that
single Valium, Glen served two and a half years of the 10 year
sentence in prison.

Can we take a moment to consider the resources expended by the state
to set up the sting operation, hold the trial, and house Glen in the
State Pen for two and a half years, for his "crime?" Was this justice?
Did this serve the people of the State of Oklahoma? Is this really the
best use for the peoples tax dollars?

Incidentally, I was present in 1986 when Glen Baumert saved the life
of a friend of ours, after paramedics had given up. Glen would have
liked to pursue a career in paramedics, which he is well suited for,
but now cannot due to his felony record.

To get back to the case at hand, Glen agreed to serve the 90 days for
possession for the single marijuana cigarette. At the same time Glen's
case was in the courts, another man was being prosecuted for alledgingly molesting or behaving inappropriately with a number of young girls. This sex offender had a plea bargain also. He pled to a lesser charge. His sentence? 100 days in the County jail...and he doesn't have to register as a sex offender. Glen however, will be labeled a felon for life.

One of the alledged victims of this sex offender was Glen Baumert's daughter.

Glen informed the DA that he was concerned that he and the sex
offender that was charged with victimizing his daughter would be serving time together in
the same jailhouse. He warned the DA that he would have a difficult
time restraining himself if this were the case. He has been trying
since last November to serve his 90-day sentence before the sex
offender.

These warnings were disregarded and Glen found himself in the small
Mayes County Jail with the man that behaved inappropriately with his daughter.
I know from a Pryor resident that the sex offenders are usually
segregated from the other inmates, though apparently that wasn't required.

Recently, I heard that the sex offender was beaten in jail. After one
week of Glen's sentence, the 'sex offender' was moved to the regular
jail pod where Glen was also housed. Almost immediately, Glen
confronted the man and a fight ensued. What's going on here, people?

When did it become justice to let a sex offender plea to 100 DAYS? Is
that what the innocence of our children is worth?
If these two are allowed to share the same space, the results are
certain to be disastrous. Glen does not need another temptation to
take out his outrage on the well deserving target. I am talking about
the sex offender, to the justice system here.

Is this the manner in which the Mayes County justice system is
supposed to be working? Is this going to go on with no public outcry?

If I didn't know Glen personally, and heard this story I would
probably shake my head and click my tongue and mutter a few words of
sympathy for the poor bastard, and curse the judge that allowed all
this to happen. Glen is my friend from childhood. I know him, and know
that he is a good person, not a menace to the community, but rather,
an asset.

I am asking that some light be brought to this case and justice
served. Glen's case should be commuted, our sex offender laws
scrutinized, and the Judge/Judges in these matters taken to task.

And the jail? You can't tell me that NOBODY knew that putting that
particular sex offender in a cell with a victim's dad would be
anything but disasterous.

This is a matter that can and should be handled by concerned citizens
and public servants within the community. If it is not, then I will do
everything within my power to make sure this issue is brought before a
larger arena.

Sincerely

Xxxxx Xxxxxxxx
Concerned citizen

POSESSION OF A JOINT: 90 DAYS IN JAIL. CHILD MOLESTATION: 30 DAYS
I'm pissed. I'm pissed at my hometown, the state of Oklahoma, our national drug policy. I want to make an issue out of the incarceration of my friend Glen Baumert. I think other people should be pissed to. I would encourage people to e-mail the Mayor of my hometown, but he doensn't have an email address. So I am encouraging people to contact the editor of the local paper, The Pryor Daily Times. ( kparker@pryordailytimes.com )

There is more to this story and it only gets more insane. I will follow up with more details soon....



Letter to the Pryor Daily Times editor:

Editor,

I posted the below comment to the forum page at the paper website.

Glen is a friend of mine and has been since High School. I am going to make an issue of his incarceration. I am a member of several groups and organizations that look for these kinds of cases to illustrate the absurdity of drug enforcement policy in this country. I am writing to you to give you a heads up and present you with an opportunity to research this story and get you facts together before the onslaught comes. There is a back story. examination of those facts only make the case more absurd.

Do your paper the service of bringing this issue to light before the outside news organizations scoop it out from under you. Interview Glen and get the whole story.

Thanks for your time


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Where is the outrage over Glen Baumerts incarceration?

Glen Baumert is serving 90 days in the Mays County Jail for posession of one joint. He is serving as a plea bargain agreement. He was visiting his home town, driving his fathers truck when he was pulled over. There was a gun found under his seat (belonged to his father) and he was charged with felony gun possession as well as posession for the joint. The gun charge was dropped as a part of a plea bargain and he is now serving 90 days for posession.

Ok, Lets look at this a little closer: Where is the crime here? Who was he harming? Who is being protected?

Lets look at the definition of crime:
crime [krahym] Pronunciation Key - –noun
1. an action or an instance of negligence that is deemed injurious to the public welfare or morals or to the interests of the state and that is legally prohibited.
2. criminal activity and those engaged in it: to fight crime.
3. the habitual or frequent commission of crimes: a life of crime.
4. any offense, serious wrongdoing, or sin.
5. a foolish, senseless, or shameful act: It's a crime to let that beautiful garden go to ruin.


Let's use definition one. Glenn was neglegent in effectively hiding his self medication from the law enforgement official. This offended the morals of the state. Fine. Do the crime, serve the time.

However, another inmate at the Mays county jail is serving 30 days for child molestation. 90 days for a joint, 30 days for child molestation. What kind of morals does this state have?

Lets go a step further: The man convicted of child molestation perpetrated the crime on Glen Baumerts daughter. Let that sink in a moment.

Any one that knows about this issue and is not outraged need to examine themselves and their life, and their role as citizens of the county and state. Look at the incongruity of the crime/punnishment system being implemented in YOUR NAME as citizens of the state. Are you not guilty of negligence? Are you not guilty of being an accomplice to a crime?

Be a good citizen, exercise you rights as an American and contact your county officials to let them know you do not want to be an accomplice to this attrocity. Or do nothing and live with your part in telling the world that Pryor Oklahoma thinks that child molestation is less of a crime than posession of one joint.

Outraged Oklahoma Ex-Pat

I've been using my thinking again...

I know that forward thinking isn't very popular these days, due to the terrifying implications that arise when we consider issues such as energy.

Check this out, and we'll talk later.

Maddog Rants again. A classic story from a few years ago.

View of the new Farm. Weed Pulling Meditation Center will be operating soon.

Click on image for larger version.

Eagles are Awesome!

Watch this, then meditate...

There is so much I could say about this video that I won't. Maybe later. Just watch it first.

Chicken ala King

Chicken ala King, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

what

Under Destruction...





I changed the template and chopped the right side off of half my pictures.

TESTING NEW TECHNOLGY...

BEAR WITH ME...



This is a project started for the Showdown in Chinatown 24hr film contest. The theme was love. The props to be used were bubblegum and wine. We never got to the props.

Short film on Me-U , the most banned performance artist in Chinatown, riffing on the theme.

Digital Chicken

Chicken Totem 2, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Hawai'ian Print

Hawai'ian Print, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.

Eye Candy Man.

I write words. I take photos.

I find it difficult to join the two. Words can run deeper than the image and the image can be wider than the words.

Pictures from my life, what I see, they can't say.
I could write for ever about one image and never capture it in words.

A Paradox walk into a bar...

Burn

Burn, originally uploaded by Dark Sevier.