I'm dirty and I don't care.
I have no one to clean up for tonight. My place is a mess. I'm a mess. The Big Island job is almost through. By noon tomorrow. Made a couple of planters before the sun set. My nails are dirty and I'm eating trail mix with them. Have a gig at UH tomorrow. Earth Day with the Vapor Puppets. I feel crazy. Amped. Need to relax but I look at all the projects and I am drawn to them like a magnet to steel. Did the plants, then made a salad, then typed this while I ate. The writing project. the mobile project is in my periphery and calling me. But I'm too tired to really produce an effect with the artifacts. A cigarette keeps oscillating through my mental field. old habit calling. I don't answer. I would lie down but I have to clean up. Had a bucket of dirt spill over my sweaty head. I really need to get a hot water heater soon.
Ok . I will clean up and chill out. I'll try relaxing and see what that feels like.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Ok. I'm impressed with myself again.
The artwork for the June show @ Marks Garage flows melifluously across my workstation, spilling its castings all over the rest of my life. A happy mess. The Vapor Puppets project blossoms like a desert cactus. Very sudden and quite unexpected.
Woke up late today. Had the tuesday night session @ the Kaiser studios in beautiful downtown Enchanted Lake. Blake came in and threw down a couple of numbers with the band. There was a shotglass loaded with muscle relaxants on the keyboard. I resisted them most of the night, but the beers relaxed my resistance to the lure of the pills and I took one. An hour later I was in a perpetual lean toward the horizontal. Blake and I grabbed a couple of kinda-philly-cheesesteaks at the Late Night Pizza lunch wagon. I dropped blake at Evno's and careened home to bed. Slept
Didn't want to get up this morning though I woke up at 7:30. Tino come in at 9:00 and we had ice coffee. Then I threw some whisky in the glasses. Tino played with the bass a bit and I played Vapor Puppet CD's. 10:00 we're loading shower trees on Betty. Griz shows up. We talk a bit. Resolution to the irritation is desired by both parties. 82 trees on Betty. We stop @ Ono Pono's for lunch and to drop off a plant. Put trees in container on Middle Street. Put another 50 trees in back at the farm. Back at the office Tino takes a Salvia break and looks at an Escher book. "Great name for an emcee to have," says Tino. I had an adult cookie. Back to Ono Pono to pick up Compost. Pick up Cee. Stop at Coffee Talk to grab the grounds and water the plants. Take Cee to pick up a J. Go to Kapi'olani Park for Sebastians 1st birthday. See Blake again. He missed his flight today. Shawzy called and told me to meet her at the Olive Garden. I show and listen to a man rant on the corner. He's angry. It has something to do with a woman, betrayal, and rich people. The belly dancers arrived and we ate and celebrated the marrage of Shawzy and Jerimai. Big surprise. Simone married them on the mountain while they were hiking yesterday. I ate feta and tomatos and olives and grape leaves and whatever was in them. Drank wine. Had pomegranite juice. Shared backlava with Roxanne. Decided right there to be kinder to my palate. Hanging with french people will do that to ya. Carrye was making a hat. Red and black. Had to have it. Stopped at Coffee Talk on the way home to juice up for this session. Cee was there. I read the paper then interrupted Cee's process of writing his thesis to rant about the Space Station. I've decided to go with the Mooirish style ranch house over the Jack Russell terrier design.
Somewhere in there I realized that the Vapor Puppets have a spot at 1:45pm @ at the Earth Day gig. I have to wrap up the Big Island tree order early. I don't have the crew to do it. Expecting calls in the morning. drinking whisky now. because it's here. And so am I.
The artwork for the June show @ Marks Garage flows melifluously across my workstation, spilling its castings all over the rest of my life. A happy mess. The Vapor Puppets project blossoms like a desert cactus. Very sudden and quite unexpected.
Woke up late today. Had the tuesday night session @ the Kaiser studios in beautiful downtown Enchanted Lake. Blake came in and threw down a couple of numbers with the band. There was a shotglass loaded with muscle relaxants on the keyboard. I resisted them most of the night, but the beers relaxed my resistance to the lure of the pills and I took one. An hour later I was in a perpetual lean toward the horizontal. Blake and I grabbed a couple of kinda-philly-cheesesteaks at the Late Night Pizza lunch wagon. I dropped blake at Evno's and careened home to bed. Slept
Didn't want to get up this morning though I woke up at 7:30. Tino come in at 9:00 and we had ice coffee. Then I threw some whisky in the glasses. Tino played with the bass a bit and I played Vapor Puppet CD's. 10:00 we're loading shower trees on Betty. Griz shows up. We talk a bit. Resolution to the irritation is desired by both parties. 82 trees on Betty. We stop @ Ono Pono's for lunch and to drop off a plant. Put trees in container on Middle Street. Put another 50 trees in back at the farm. Back at the office Tino takes a Salvia break and looks at an Escher book. "Great name for an emcee to have," says Tino. I had an adult cookie. Back to Ono Pono to pick up Compost. Pick up Cee. Stop at Coffee Talk to grab the grounds and water the plants. Take Cee to pick up a J. Go to Kapi'olani Park for Sebastians 1st birthday. See Blake again. He missed his flight today. Shawzy called and told me to meet her at the Olive Garden. I show and listen to a man rant on the corner. He's angry. It has something to do with a woman, betrayal, and rich people. The belly dancers arrived and we ate and celebrated the marrage of Shawzy and Jerimai. Big surprise. Simone married them on the mountain while they were hiking yesterday. I ate feta and tomatos and olives and grape leaves and whatever was in them. Drank wine. Had pomegranite juice. Shared backlava with Roxanne. Decided right there to be kinder to my palate. Hanging with french people will do that to ya. Carrye was making a hat. Red and black. Had to have it. Stopped at Coffee Talk on the way home to juice up for this session. Cee was there. I read the paper then interrupted Cee's process of writing his thesis to rant about the Space Station. I've decided to go with the Mooirish style ranch house over the Jack Russell terrier design.
Somewhere in there I realized that the Vapor Puppets have a spot at 1:45pm @ at the Earth Day gig. I have to wrap up the Big Island tree order early. I don't have the crew to do it. Expecting calls in the morning. drinking whisky now. because it's here. And so am I.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
I'm not impressed.
I used to be pretty impressed with myself. Not so much these days. I think I psychically herniated myself when I decided that I was going to build that space station. I haven't even started the thing yet.
I haven't been keeping up the blog. I've been buisy working-on/stressing-about my nursury. Been raining for the past two weeks. A centepede bit me on Thursday, so I've been incapacitated for the past two days. I endured the pounding in my foot to drive to Kailua for the Vapor Puppet session last night. Took pain pills and drank whisky. Played a waterphone in a spacy soundscape.
Had a dream last night that I started introducing myself to people as John Sybian, and asked them to remember me on election day. I told people I was running for court clerk. I scooted around some mall/office complex on a footstool that made flatulant like noises when I scooted it just the right way. This made an impression on a number of older Japanese ladies that I asked to remember me.
In another dream I was running down a steep city street and jumped high in the air. The hill became almost vertical as I jumped and I soared a great distance before falling through a tree into a coutyard. My landing was eased by the son of a restaraunt owner. I thanked him, then noticed a cord that ran up into the sky. High above was a white pirate/space ship anchored over the city.
Stopped dreaming around Noon. My foot felt like it had been run over by a truck when I stood up. So, I stayed in bed. Carson left some peanut butter and sliced apples by the bed with some apple juice. So I ate and started reading Eckart Tolle's The Power of Now. I read to page 23. It's not very funny. I think I've had enough of these humorless spiritual teachers. I need a punchline. He'breakes it down: People think too much and not creatively enough. A neurotic species. No kidding. I recieved 4 e-mails from my ex today. 4. Today. Apparently I need more humility. I need to grow up. And something else... Oh yeah, I need to "be the enlightened man that I pretend to be." Eckart Tolle says of enlightenment:
"the word enlightenment conjurs up the idea of some superhuman accomplishment, and the ego likes to keep it that way, but it is simply your natural state of felt oneness with Being."
He also says:
The inability to feel this connectedness gives rise to the illusion of separation, from yourself, and from the world around you. You then perceive yourself, consciously, or unconsciously, as an Isolated fragment. Fear arises, and conflict within and without becomes the norm
I used to be pretty impressed with myself. Not so much these days. I think I psychically herniated myself when I decided that I was going to build that space station. I haven't even started the thing yet.
I haven't been keeping up the blog. I've been buisy working-on/stressing-about my nursury. Been raining for the past two weeks. A centepede bit me on Thursday, so I've been incapacitated for the past two days. I endured the pounding in my foot to drive to Kailua for the Vapor Puppet session last night. Took pain pills and drank whisky. Played a waterphone in a spacy soundscape.
Had a dream last night that I started introducing myself to people as John Sybian, and asked them to remember me on election day. I told people I was running for court clerk. I scooted around some mall/office complex on a footstool that made flatulant like noises when I scooted it just the right way. This made an impression on a number of older Japanese ladies that I asked to remember me.
In another dream I was running down a steep city street and jumped high in the air. The hill became almost vertical as I jumped and I soared a great distance before falling through a tree into a coutyard. My landing was eased by the son of a restaraunt owner. I thanked him, then noticed a cord that ran up into the sky. High above was a white pirate/space ship anchored over the city.
Stopped dreaming around Noon. My foot felt like it had been run over by a truck when I stood up. So, I stayed in bed. Carson left some peanut butter and sliced apples by the bed with some apple juice. So I ate and started reading Eckart Tolle's The Power of Now. I read to page 23. It's not very funny. I think I've had enough of these humorless spiritual teachers. I need a punchline. He'breakes it down: People think too much and not creatively enough. A neurotic species. No kidding. I recieved 4 e-mails from my ex today. 4. Today. Apparently I need more humility. I need to grow up. And something else... Oh yeah, I need to "be the enlightened man that I pretend to be." Eckart Tolle says of enlightenment:
"the word enlightenment conjurs up the idea of some superhuman accomplishment, and the ego likes to keep it that way, but it is simply your natural state of felt oneness with Being."
He also says:
The inability to feel this connectedness gives rise to the illusion of separation, from yourself, and from the world around you. You then perceive yourself, consciously, or unconsciously, as an Isolated fragment. Fear arises, and conflict within and without becomes the norm
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
A Reply
--- Joyce Thomas wrote:
> Hello,
Goodday to you,
>
> Hello we are a Charity Company ready to render loan
> and help to people that need in the usa and uk, so
> we would like you to please forward us with this
> information if you need loan and the reason why the
> loan is needed.
>
>
> If you need a loan indicate that you need a loan, if
> you need help for money for school, housing and
> other little requirement indicate with your email
> reply.
> Also if this is a company that need loan lease let
> us know ur full comany details as well.
>
>
> So please we would like you to fill this Application
> form as listed below for the loan:
>
> Name:
> Company or where you work:
> Full Addres:
> Office Phone Number:
> Mobile phone number:
> Fax Number:
> Amount Of Money Needed:
> Religion:
> Married or single:
>
>
> And what will you use to assure us that the money
> will be paid back:
>
>
> And the date that you will be paying the money back
> after you get the money:
>
> We meet up with the commitements of our clients and
> we are ready to help mostly the Christians
>
> Thanks,
>
> Secretary,
>
> Joyce.
>
> Our Contact info is:
>
> Charity home finance Company Ltd
> 11 ambleside point
> new cross
> london
> se15 1ea
> Great Britian also called United Kingdom
> Contact Phone: 44-7985120048
God Damn it!
How did you get my e-mail address? Joyce Thomas, if you don't send me back a confirmation that my e-mail address has been removed from you parasitic company's data base, I am going to conjure up the foulest soul eating monsters imaginable to plague you, your computers and any of your soulless offsping to come. I am a very buisy entity and it takes a bit of effort for me to perform such an operation, but
it would be worth it to me to spend a little of my dream time spectating the greusome process of your worthless soul being meticulously flayed from your greed infested beast fucked bag of rag and bones.
Thank you
Sincerely,
Dark
>
>
--- Joyce Thomas
> Hello,
Goodday to you,
>
> Hello we are a Charity Company ready to render loan
> and help to people that need in the usa and uk, so
> we would like you to please forward us with this
> information if you need loan and the reason why the
> loan is needed.
>
>
> If you need a loan indicate that you need a loan, if
> you need help for money for school, housing and
> other little requirement indicate with your email
> reply.
> Also if this is a company that need loan lease let
> us know ur full comany details as well.
>
>
> So please we would like you to fill this Application
> form as listed below for the loan:
>
> Name:
> Company or where you work:
> Full Addres:
> Office Phone Number:
> Mobile phone number:
> Fax Number:
> Amount Of Money Needed:
> Religion:
> Married or single:
>
>
> And what will you use to assure us that the money
> will be paid back:
>
>
> And the date that you will be paying the money back
> after you get the money:
>
> We meet up with the commitements of our clients and
> we are ready to help mostly the Christians
>
> Thanks,
>
> Secretary,
>
> Joyce.
>
> Our Contact info is:
>
> Charity home finance Company Ltd
> 11 ambleside point
> new cross
> london
> se15 1ea
> Great Britian also called United Kingdom
> Contact Phone: 44-7985120048
God Damn it!
How did you get my e-mail address? Joyce Thomas, if you don't send me back a confirmation that my e-mail address has been removed from you parasitic company's data base, I am going to conjure up the foulest soul eating monsters imaginable to plague you, your computers and any of your soulless offsping to come. I am a very buisy entity and it takes a bit of effort for me to perform such an operation, but
it would be worth it to me to spend a little of my dream time spectating the greusome process of your worthless soul being meticulously flayed from your greed infested beast fucked bag of rag and bones.
Thank you
Sincerely,
Dark
>
>
From: Dark Sevier
>To: grizz Aahhoo
>Subject: The Deal
>Date: Thu, 31 Mar 2005 23:55:51 -0800 (PST)
>
>Griz-
>
>Where is the middle ground here? I don't want any
>more "conversations" like our last phone call. I am
>not going to be bullied and talked over. I will
>listen to you, consider what you say, and respond. I
>expect nothing less from you or anyone else.
>
>I am not out to screw you. I think you know me well
>enough to know that. I want both of us to feel like
>the transfer of this operation was a fair one. So,
>let's consider the facts surrounding the transition.
>
>You say a lot of things, and you make a lot of plans,
>and they are often completely conflicting and
>dichotomous. I watched you re-formulate the business
>plan for Hawai'i Plant Company three times in an
>afternoon, each time declaring finality. When you
>asked me to manage your company I told you that I
>would not, and I gave you the reason: I cannot work
>with your particular style of management. I told you
>that I would buy your clientele, but I would not
>manage it for you. You agreed. You terminated HPC
>and I started my company. We agreed that I would pay
>you the accounts payable at the time of termination.
>We agreed that I would pay you a percentage of what
>sellable stock that you had left on PATCO property. We
>agreed that I would then pay a yet to be determined
>ammount for the book; or your clientele. We signed
>this agreement with a witness. I agreed to buy your
>truck according to blue book at the time of sale.
>
>You can check your bank records to find out how much
>I put in your account over the last two years. Plus
>the Citibank payments, plus the Discover payments,
>plus the Western Union transfers, plus the Gigantea
>order and the labor involved.
>
>I was glad to do these things when I could, and I
>appreciated your patients when I couldn't. We never
>came to a final number on the business book. We need
>to come to an understanding now.
>
>This whole transfer was on verbal agreements and
>handshakes. I trusted that. I feel that your memory
>has a flexibility and crativity that has spawned a
>communication problem between us.
>
>Your ungraciousness as a house guest, the threats to
>take back your clientele, the liberties that you took
>with my nursury operations, and the disrespectful talk
>behind my back has soured my regard for you as a
>person and a friend. Before we have any more business
>between us, we need to come to an understanding.
>
>You tell me what it is that you think I owe you. I
>will look at that and we can take it from there.
>
>Dark
>
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
grizz Aahhoo"
To: darksevier@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: The Deal
Date: Fri, 01 Apr 2005 21:41:12 +0000
dark im interesred in working somethiong out with you so we can
work
with out losing
first of all im not impressed with your operation the nursrie
looks
like shit i canot believe the coles let you get away with it . you don
have
any order the best i can say is scattrebrain
you have no dicipline whatsoever,. you need to focus on one thingf at a
time.
as far as our agreements your thinking and mine are really
diffrent
you have come up with several diffrent offers and when we first started
the
transfer of the company i hoped that i could still
workl with the compan if i needed it has become apperent that you
comand
weigh too much controll for me . you donot work well with other people
.
as far as my feelings of dissatifacition there is a rather long list
the
biggest is that you are a controol freek and you are not leaving me any
room
.
to make a lomng story shorter im not supper happy with how you
see
things and you are not happy with me . i donot feel like the company
is
paid for when we decided on a secdule of payments we agreed on a
comission
secduleper plant . you never keept track when it seemed like you would
just
give me enough to travel i was contant.
im really greatful for your efforts to provide me with money
for
that time. i afforded
you the opturnity to have controol of the operation.last night you made
refrence to the fact
that i burnt my bridges and left with really bad fellings. i see it
really
diffrentley i lef with a nursrie full of plants full of accounts
recivebal,
happy coustomers. the working stations were operational
i feel like i left you with quite an opturnity, i felt happy that you
were
able to give me the opturnity to see south america.
now im back and im really trieng to be staniable. im really
interested in earnig a living some
way or another im totaly into starting something new. at this moment
air
layering of the trees we sell. imn hop[ing we can get back on track
and
work this out im up for this progect.
get back to me and let me know what is your proposel im out of time
sincerley
griz
>To: grizz Aahhoo
>Subject: The Deal
>Date: Thu, 31 Mar 2005 23:55:51 -0800 (PST)
>
>Griz-
>
>Where is the middle ground here? I don't want any
>more "conversations" like our last phone call. I am
>not going to be bullied and talked over. I will
>listen to you, consider what you say, and respond. I
>expect nothing less from you or anyone else.
>
>I am not out to screw you. I think you know me well
>enough to know that. I want both of us to feel like
>the transfer of this operation was a fair one. So,
>let's consider the facts surrounding the transition.
>
>You say a lot of things, and you make a lot of plans,
>and they are often completely conflicting and
>dichotomous. I watched you re-formulate the business
>plan for Hawai'i Plant Company three times in an
>afternoon, each time declaring finality. When you
>asked me to manage your company I told you that I
>would not, and I gave you the reason: I cannot work
>with your particular style of management. I told you
>that I would buy your clientele, but I would not
>manage it for you. You agreed. You terminated HPC
>and I started my company. We agreed that I would pay
>you the accounts payable at the time of termination.
>We agreed that I would pay you a percentage of what
>sellable stock that you had left on PATCO property. We
>agreed that I would then pay a yet to be determined
>ammount for the book; or your clientele. We signed
>this agreement with a witness. I agreed to buy your
>truck according to blue book at the time of sale.
>
>You can check your bank records to find out how much
>I put in your account over the last two years. Plus
>the Citibank payments, plus the Discover payments,
>plus the Western Union transfers, plus the Gigantea
>order and the labor involved.
>
>I was glad to do these things when I could, and I
>appreciated your patients when I couldn't. We never
>came to a final number on the business book. We need
>to come to an understanding now.
>
>This whole transfer was on verbal agreements and
>handshakes. I trusted that. I feel that your memory
>has a flexibility and crativity that has spawned a
>communication problem between us.
>
>Your ungraciousness as a house guest, the threats to
>take back your clientele, the liberties that you took
>with my nursury operations, and the disrespectful talk
>behind my back has soured my regard for you as a
>person and a friend. Before we have any more business
>between us, we need to come to an understanding.
>
>You tell me what it is that you think I owe you. I
>will look at that and we can take it from there.
>
>Dark
>
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
grizz Aahhoo"
To: darksevier@yahoo.com
Subject: RE: The Deal
Date: Fri, 01 Apr 2005 21:41:12 +0000
dark im interesred in working somethiong out with you so we can
work
with out losing
first of all im not impressed with your operation the nursrie
looks
like shit i canot believe the coles let you get away with it . you don
have
any order the best i can say is scattrebrain
you have no dicipline whatsoever,. you need to focus on one thingf at a
time.
as far as our agreements your thinking and mine are really
diffrent
you have come up with several diffrent offers and when we first started
the
transfer of the company i hoped that i could still
workl with the compan if i needed it has become apperent that you
comand
weigh too much controll for me . you donot work well with other people
.
as far as my feelings of dissatifacition there is a rather long list
the
biggest is that you are a controol freek and you are not leaving me any
room
.
to make a lomng story shorter im not supper happy with how you
see
things and you are not happy with me . i donot feel like the company
is
paid for when we decided on a secdule of payments we agreed on a
comission
secduleper plant . you never keept track when it seemed like you would
just
give me enough to travel i was contant.
im really greatful for your efforts to provide me with money
for
that time. i afforded
you the opturnity to have controol of the operation.last night you made
refrence to the fact
that i burnt my bridges and left with really bad fellings. i see it
really
diffrentley i lef with a nursrie full of plants full of accounts
recivebal,
happy coustomers. the working stations were operational
i feel like i left you with quite an opturnity, i felt happy that you
were
able to give me the opturnity to see south america.
now im back and im really trieng to be staniable. im really
interested in earnig a living some
way or another im totaly into starting something new. at this moment
air
layering of the trees we sell. imn hop[ing we can get back on track
and
work this out im up for this progect.
get back to me and let me know what is your proposel im out of time
sincerley
griz
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Sunday, March 13th, 2005
Served as emcee for the Earth Mother Mind Jam @ Anna Bananas yesterday. I think this was a record for me: 10 hour gig. Ten hours of shooting my mouth off. There were acts in between. Some very good acts, actually. A number of performers flew themselves in from the mainland to perform free at this gig. Unfortunately they were mostly performing for each other. Honolulu missed out.
ralo set the whole thing up. I have to say that she has some major cajones to set up a festival in Hawai'i (she lives in Minnisota), invite acts from the mainland (who pay their own way), and make a line-up with local acts (that she doesn't know intimately, if at all). She is charmed. It was a nice place to be for ten hours. The crowd was not as large as she had hoped. The people here weren't willing to pay $10 for mainland acts they didn't know, and the local acts didn't have much drawing power for the door. So, a room full of talent and their friends and family members mutually supported each other. I didn't have a financial stake in the thing (I live ten minuites from the gig), so I was able to enjoy the eclectic line-up without stressing the airfair, unsold CD's, promotion costs, or reputation with the club owners.
Alt Rock. Alt Country. Hawai'ian Slack Key. Alt Folk. Alt Hip Hop. Alt Regge. Retro Poetry. Lethal Yo-Yo (alt Yo-Yo). Alt Spoken Word with Alt Fusion. Most everyone was respectable. One self promoting hack slipped through the crack and landed himself a prime spot, but was swiftly and deftly givin the hook by ralo. I verbally trounced the self deluded fool in a less than tactfull way. I did it in an indirect way that was not really that indirect. I felt the door of the voracious id monsters start to creak open and was tempted to let them loose, but moved on to the final act out of respect for the late hour.
DO NOT SUPPORT BAD ART
The message was clear. This was the first of ralo's event's held here in Honolulu. I hope it isn't the last.
Served as emcee for the Earth Mother Mind Jam @ Anna Bananas yesterday. I think this was a record for me: 10 hour gig. Ten hours of shooting my mouth off. There were acts in between. Some very good acts, actually. A number of performers flew themselves in from the mainland to perform free at this gig. Unfortunately they were mostly performing for each other. Honolulu missed out.
ralo set the whole thing up. I have to say that she has some major cajones to set up a festival in Hawai'i (she lives in Minnisota), invite acts from the mainland (who pay their own way), and make a line-up with local acts (that she doesn't know intimately, if at all). She is charmed. It was a nice place to be for ten hours. The crowd was not as large as she had hoped. The people here weren't willing to pay $10 for mainland acts they didn't know, and the local acts didn't have much drawing power for the door. So, a room full of talent and their friends and family members mutually supported each other. I didn't have a financial stake in the thing (I live ten minuites from the gig), so I was able to enjoy the eclectic line-up without stressing the airfair, unsold CD's, promotion costs, or reputation with the club owners.
Alt Rock. Alt Country. Hawai'ian Slack Key. Alt Folk. Alt Hip Hop. Alt Regge. Retro Poetry. Lethal Yo-Yo (alt Yo-Yo). Alt Spoken Word with Alt Fusion. Most everyone was respectable. One self promoting hack slipped through the crack and landed himself a prime spot, but was swiftly and deftly givin the hook by ralo. I verbally trounced the self deluded fool in a less than tactfull way. I did it in an indirect way that was not really that indirect. I felt the door of the voracious id monsters start to creak open and was tempted to let them loose, but moved on to the final act out of respect for the late hour.
DO NOT SUPPORT BAD ART
The message was clear. This was the first of ralo's event's held here in Honolulu. I hope it isn't the last.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Mildly wigged.
Looking at the life I have carved out for myself...
I have no complaints about this active lifestyle I am living. I have notions of where it's heading, but no idea how it will play out. Reading through and transcribing my old journal has givin me a perspective of a younger me that only time could provide. It has also shown me how small my objectivity of my current situation. I don't know what I'm doing. I let myself think I know so that I will continue, but I don't know, really. The life I live now could be a fevered dream from the past; the past that may well be a fiction I created.
Sister found a free gas stove on Craigs List. I picked it up sunday morning. It seems that the hose fittings for natural gas and the fittings for propane are not compatable. I found this out today after running all over Honolulu looking for a way to hook the new stove to the old tank. Someone from Maui is supposed to call me tomorrow. So, the new stove with the functioning oven is in the kitchen not functioning, and the old stove with the broken oven is working on my front walkway. I like it out there. The dog vacuums the stirfry escapees, and the birds clean the pan and range in the mornings.
I couldn't make this shit up.
Looking at the life I have carved out for myself...
I have no complaints about this active lifestyle I am living. I have notions of where it's heading, but no idea how it will play out. Reading through and transcribing my old journal has givin me a perspective of a younger me that only time could provide. It has also shown me how small my objectivity of my current situation. I don't know what I'm doing. I let myself think I know so that I will continue, but I don't know, really. The life I live now could be a fevered dream from the past; the past that may well be a fiction I created.
Sister found a free gas stove on Craigs List. I picked it up sunday morning. It seems that the hose fittings for natural gas and the fittings for propane are not compatable. I found this out today after running all over Honolulu looking for a way to hook the new stove to the old tank. Someone from Maui is supposed to call me tomorrow. So, the new stove with the functioning oven is in the kitchen not functioning, and the old stove with the broken oven is working on my front walkway. I like it out there. The dog vacuums the stirfry escapees, and the birds clean the pan and range in the mornings.
I couldn't make this shit up.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
The machine is back in comission.
Carson says I may have consumption, "the poets disease." Poets used to die from it. Some kind of resperatory thing. She doesn't think I'm going to die though.
Expiating the smoking karma. Had do give up smoking herb too. No cloves either.
Been drinking tumeric tea, supposedly good for the lungs. Brother Jason grew buckets of the stuff, fat like ginger. The hippy markets won't buy it because it's not certified organic. He has unofficial tumeric. My lungs don't care about the certification.
Anyway, I don't think I have consumption. I just looked it up on the net. It is also known as tuberculosis. I don't think I have tuberculosis. I'm going to go see a Chinese herbalist. My energy levels are for shite.
Carson says I may have consumption, "the poets disease." Poets used to die from it. Some kind of resperatory thing. She doesn't think I'm going to die though.
Expiating the smoking karma. Had do give up smoking herb too. No cloves either.
Been drinking tumeric tea, supposedly good for the lungs. Brother Jason grew buckets of the stuff, fat like ginger. The hippy markets won't buy it because it's not certified organic. He has unofficial tumeric. My lungs don't care about the certification.
Anyway, I don't think I have consumption. I just looked it up on the net. It is also known as tuberculosis. I don't think I have tuberculosis. I'm going to go see a Chinese herbalist. My energy levels are for shite.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Ok. So, I looked up Hypneroticamachia on the dictionary. No go. I found Hypnerotomachia Poliphili: a book written in 1499 by a Dominican monk in Venice. Very obscure. That monk was a tripper.
There are a number of subjects that I am interested in writing in at the moment. I hesitate though, because the subjects demand time an attention. I'm stingy with these things. Want to be less so.
So. Was talking to Carson this morning while driving. Talking about blogging turning juornalism inside out, about the internet. Carson mentioned that the internet was still free, mentioned that it narrowly avoided being privatized like the airwaves of telivision, radio, etc. This started me thinking about a scenario I had playing in my head about ten years ago.
It would be fair to say that I was psychotic, delusional, and acutely paranoid at the time. I picked up bits of information and history and wove them with conjecture into stories that would have made a tight little series of morden fiction, even though I was living them out as fact in my customized low-rider reality.
One scenario went like this:
Early 1960's: There is revolution in the air. The cultural landscape shimmered with an irridescense illuminated by the dawning of the psychedellic era. Change ceased to appear dangerous to the young and mentally flexible.
From another perspective, the kids were freaking out. The older, more "respnsible" members of the society were in control of the media and used it to portray the anomolous behaviours of the young as foolish, freakish brats. The cameras found the most dramatic examples of the Hippies, the Yippies, the Panthers and other revolutionaries, passing up the more subdued and coherent. The microphones zeroed in on the post verbal members of this movement, people whose experiences left them speechless. "Wow man" just didn't translate the new consciousness to the uninitiated. It served instead to alienate.
So, I conjectured that the brains and visionaries realized, on some level, that they would need to capture the media, and that meant creating the technology that the old guard would have to come to rely on. The Trojan Horse would be wheeled onto the world stage. Seen as a capitulation of the revolutionaries to the capitolists, business and government alike would open their gates and welcome in the gift of the new Tech. The internet serves as a crude mechanical model of our interconnectedness, the interconnectedness that precedes the division of country, religion, socioeconomic, etc.
The new media is free. The new journalism is free, or has the capacity to be free of commercial bias.
In my fevered scenario, the bottom would drop out of this Thechno Trojan Horse, and the minions of humanity would drop in behind the fortress of the Social Norms, and overwhelm them in their sleep with outrageous honesty. A doomsday bug for the thugs.
We should communicate freely. We should live on this planet freely. We should have access to water for free.
Should and shall share the same etymology.
There are a number of subjects that I am interested in writing in at the moment. I hesitate though, because the subjects demand time an attention. I'm stingy with these things. Want to be less so.
So. Was talking to Carson this morning while driving. Talking about blogging turning juornalism inside out, about the internet. Carson mentioned that the internet was still free, mentioned that it narrowly avoided being privatized like the airwaves of telivision, radio, etc. This started me thinking about a scenario I had playing in my head about ten years ago.
It would be fair to say that I was psychotic, delusional, and acutely paranoid at the time. I picked up bits of information and history and wove them with conjecture into stories that would have made a tight little series of morden fiction, even though I was living them out as fact in my customized low-rider reality.
One scenario went like this:
Early 1960's: There is revolution in the air. The cultural landscape shimmered with an irridescense illuminated by the dawning of the psychedellic era. Change ceased to appear dangerous to the young and mentally flexible.
From another perspective, the kids were freaking out. The older, more "respnsible" members of the society were in control of the media and used it to portray the anomolous behaviours of the young as foolish, freakish brats. The cameras found the most dramatic examples of the Hippies, the Yippies, the Panthers and other revolutionaries, passing up the more subdued and coherent. The microphones zeroed in on the post verbal members of this movement, people whose experiences left them speechless. "Wow man" just didn't translate the new consciousness to the uninitiated. It served instead to alienate.
So, I conjectured that the brains and visionaries realized, on some level, that they would need to capture the media, and that meant creating the technology that the old guard would have to come to rely on. The Trojan Horse would be wheeled onto the world stage. Seen as a capitulation of the revolutionaries to the capitolists, business and government alike would open their gates and welcome in the gift of the new Tech. The internet serves as a crude mechanical model of our interconnectedness, the interconnectedness that precedes the division of country, religion, socioeconomic, etc.
The new media is free. The new journalism is free, or has the capacity to be free of commercial bias.
In my fevered scenario, the bottom would drop out of this Thechno Trojan Horse, and the minions of humanity would drop in behind the fortress of the Social Norms, and overwhelm them in their sleep with outrageous honesty. A doomsday bug for the thugs.
We should communicate freely. We should live on this planet freely. We should have access to water for free.
Should and shall share the same etymology.
My computer has been down. I went back to stone age writing. I'll fix the computer someday, when I can administer a laxitive to my financial constipation. So much to say. So much to pay.
It was a sweet gathering at the open mic last night. I counted 75 people at one point. Jamala came down to play and did a hour long set. People were transfixed on the synchronous hands of two facile players. I watched a baby that could barely stand determine to dance after watching the drumming and the dancing it inspired.
The good Dr. slipped me an envelope of green paper to help support me and these events. Much appreciated and needed this week. Gas and food will continue for a few more days. I am going to go eat right now, because I can. More later when I can get into it.
It was a sweet gathering at the open mic last night. I counted 75 people at one point. Jamala came down to play and did a hour long set. People were transfixed on the synchronous hands of two facile players. I watched a baby that could barely stand determine to dance after watching the drumming and the dancing it inspired.
The good Dr. slipped me an envelope of green paper to help support me and these events. Much appreciated and needed this week. Gas and food will continue for a few more days. I am going to go eat right now, because I can. More later when I can get into it.
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Slept in 'til noon today. For once I wasn't goaded into the day by a coughing jag that demanded I get vertical to quell it. I pulled some presents out of a plastic bag that had been delivered surreptitiously by Ambra from her mom.
With my breath, face, and voice still in morning mode I told Julienne that I saw some fat guy leaving the house last night when I came stumbling down from Ritchies stoned on triptiphane and THC. I told her I thought Grizz had returned, but figured it wasn't Grizz because he didn't howl. I said he must of left this stuff here and then I gave it to her.
Then I called sister. We had plans to go to a matinee and spend the rest of the day in the theatre copping free movies. I made a couple of egg sandwiches and grabbed a couple of sodas and hit the road.
Life Aquatic: Bill Murray and crew deliver flawless flaws in a subtle comedy that didn't pander to the lowest common denominator. Excellent directing. Two thumbs up.
The Lemony Snicket flick: A series of situations that allows Jim Carey to show off some of his physical comedy gags. Panders to tweens that are certain that all adults are either bumbling or evil. Obviously and unashamedly derivative. Wait for video release.
The Fockers: a paycheck for some actors that needed a gig this quarter to keep the Blue Cross insurance current. It did pander to the lowest common denominator. DeNiro and crew would do well to observe Johnny Depp and see what an actor that consciously chooses projects looks like. Then they could study him and method act their way back into the realm of artistic integrity. The director was asleep or is a sadist that gets a kick out of further dulling the cognitive functions of the paying audience. Glad I didn't pay.
There. I just threw my hat into the movie critic blog ring. Being a critic evokes my most brutal honesty. I like it, but am unnerved by the karmic tremors I feel dopplering off every time I mock the people that I once aspired to be like. A wave to ride later.
With my breath, face, and voice still in morning mode I told Julienne that I saw some fat guy leaving the house last night when I came stumbling down from Ritchies stoned on triptiphane and THC. I told her I thought Grizz had returned, but figured it wasn't Grizz because he didn't howl. I said he must of left this stuff here and then I gave it to her.
Then I called sister. We had plans to go to a matinee and spend the rest of the day in the theatre copping free movies. I made a couple of egg sandwiches and grabbed a couple of sodas and hit the road.
Life Aquatic: Bill Murray and crew deliver flawless flaws in a subtle comedy that didn't pander to the lowest common denominator. Excellent directing. Two thumbs up.
The Lemony Snicket flick: A series of situations that allows Jim Carey to show off some of his physical comedy gags. Panders to tweens that are certain that all adults are either bumbling or evil. Obviously and unashamedly derivative. Wait for video release.
The Fockers: a paycheck for some actors that needed a gig this quarter to keep the Blue Cross insurance current. It did pander to the lowest common denominator. DeNiro and crew would do well to observe Johnny Depp and see what an actor that consciously chooses projects looks like. Then they could study him and method act their way back into the realm of artistic integrity. The director was asleep or is a sadist that gets a kick out of further dulling the cognitive functions of the paying audience. Glad I didn't pay.
There. I just threw my hat into the movie critic blog ring. Being a critic evokes my most brutal honesty. I like it, but am unnerved by the karmic tremors I feel dopplering off every time I mock the people that I once aspired to be like. A wave to ride later.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Mercury is no longer in retrograde...
At least that's what I heard. From a source I don't recall... So I don't know the validity or veracity of this bit of inf. However, I'm acting as if this were true and relevant to my life condition. Because of this, my witness self seems to perceive (metaphorically) a waning of a shadow that has been dimming my cognition.
So, I feel better. A bit of relief, really. Also picked up an eighth tonight; that helps heaps.
And on this line I had hoped to write something profound, that would bring this whole entry into a radiating sphere of poetic cohesion
At least that's what I heard. From a source I don't recall... So I don't know the validity or veracity of this bit of inf. However, I'm acting as if this were true and relevant to my life condition. Because of this, my witness self seems to perceive (metaphorically) a waning of a shadow that has been dimming my cognition.
So, I feel better. A bit of relief, really. Also picked up an eighth tonight; that helps heaps.
And on this line I had hoped to write something profound, that would bring this whole entry into a radiating sphere of poetic cohesion
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Eh...
Rockstar Nation.
Rockstar Nation.
Superstar on the world stage for a page or two in the book of evolution.
High on our own press
Stoned on state of the art pharmaceuticles
Economic blow jobs from corporate groupies
that have posters of the 50's plastered across the lenses of their perceptions
Rockstar Nation
Rapid morphing of a national personae
analogous of Elvis:
the Young Rebel Elvis
Pop Star Elvis
King of Pop Elvis
Vegas Karate Elvis
Fat Pill Popping Armed and Dangerous Volitile Chicken and Jelly Doughnut Eating Burnout Elvis
America has become that Fat Armed and Dangerous Burnout Elvis
A has-been still riding high on what was
As the buzz of the New and Improved Rockstar Nation
starts a vibration that shakes the Earth to the core
The Next Big Thing
The Company wants to bank on the Next Big Thing
The Label finds new pastures with cheap labor
and that look in the eye that says "I will Dominate!"
China will take our best riffs and make then their own
turn their citizens into good consumers
A Super Power without the unwieldy onus of an ostensibly free public
A Rockstar Nation of Billions instead of Millions.
As a has-been America sits on the can
As a has-been America sits on the can
sequined jumpsuit around the ankles
eating chicken and popping pills
yelling at the TV
and reaching for the gun
I watched TV for several hours tonight at my sisters.
I've felt less guilty for drinking excessive amounts of alchohol, dropping acid, or masturbating excessively. The madness stuns me. This brutal media experiment on the minds of the past few generations has turned a fantastic and noble species into a kind of livestock for obscure vampires. We are called citizens, or people, or Americans far less often than we are called consumers. I am so dumbstruck by the audacity of this programming that I just stare in disbelief at the extent to which we humans endure this demeaning marginalization of the finer qualities of the species. If the TV is on and we are viewing, submitting our minds to the insidious pandering of the Sponsors to our most primitive capacities, we are passively allowing ourselves to be defined by these base media steroids. We are complicit addicts to a mind warping media diet. My compassion for the species falls under the shadow of my outrage over our idiocy and lazyness. And I walk away thinking: we are lost, hopeless, entranced by a cheesy mesmerist that siphons off our souls into I don't know what.
The image of the fat Elvis haunts me.
I've felt less guilty for drinking excessive amounts of alchohol, dropping acid, or masturbating excessively. The madness stuns me. This brutal media experiment on the minds of the past few generations has turned a fantastic and noble species into a kind of livestock for obscure vampires. We are called citizens, or people, or Americans far less often than we are called consumers. I am so dumbstruck by the audacity of this programming that I just stare in disbelief at the extent to which we humans endure this demeaning marginalization of the finer qualities of the species. If the TV is on and we are viewing, submitting our minds to the insidious pandering of the Sponsors to our most primitive capacities, we are passively allowing ourselves to be defined by these base media steroids. We are complicit addicts to a mind warping media diet. My compassion for the species falls under the shadow of my outrage over our idiocy and lazyness. And I walk away thinking: we are lost, hopeless, entranced by a cheesy mesmerist that siphons off our souls into I don't know what.
The image of the fat Elvis haunts me.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Busted. My number came up.
Today while canvasing for plumaria trees I was pulled over by a cop in Aina Hina. He was stern and not very friendly. I told him I didn't have insurance or current registration, and he saw that my safety inspection was expired. I asked him if he could give me a little break. He told me to go sit in the car. After he punched my name in he walked around his car polishing specs off his chrome and glass listening through the window to the radio. After a while, while still facing his car and polishing his glass, he called me over, told me I had an outstanding violation. He asked me if I knew about that. No, I said. He handed me back my liscense and told me to take care of it, then got in a pulled off.
I drove away a little stunned and thought about how much I liked the Honolulu Police Department. They are so much more humane here I thought to myself as I marveled at my good fortune.
Tonight I had dinner at Cee and Jessicas. He invited me over to meet his parents (He originally from Iriguay, she from Costa Rica) visiting from D.C. I was completely charmed by the whole scene. Lots of candles, shrimp and veggie shish kabab, wine, and fluid conversation about nothing in particular. Then smores and chocolate shaped and wrapped like little booze bottles and full of various liquers.
When time for me to go, Cee came with for the ride to my sisters, where I needed to pick up an invoice before she slept. I was telling Cee about my near miss with the police earlier in the day when a cop appeared at an intersection. I passed it and another cop came over the hill and passed me. I took my next right and the cop followed. I turned into what looked to be an apartment complex and parked and the cop passed. We sat for a minuite. When I pulled back out the cop was parked on the side of the road, waiting. I passed it, it pulled me over. The cop that passed on the hill pulled in as well. thre cops circled my truck and two simultaneously interviewed Cee and me. My cop looked nice enough, big blue open eyes, Brazillian accent. I tried to ask for a break but he shrugged uncomfortably and nodded toward the other cops, a third cruiser pulling in to check out the scene. Ok. So after the other two cars left, the officer returned, with his partner behind him. Tickets for insurance and registration, but they let me go on the safety. I turned to the shadow officer and aked him if they would have come back for me if I had not pulled back out. Yep, he said, he had already seen my year expired tags and know from eight years on the beat that my truck didn't belong there. Ah. Ok. Got me. he lightened up a bit and officer blue eyes seemed a little less nervous. They made it clear that they didn't want to ticket me, but I chimed in and said that I know, it's their job, no hard feelings on my part, we all live in the same neighborhood, I don't need any enemies. I cruised for a year, saving more in insurance and tags than I would pay for the fine tonight(I pray). They have their game, I have mine: Cheers to the games we play.
I love my life and my work, though I haven't made it a priority to make them copacetic with the state power/insurance juggernaut.
As I was getting the tickets I thought, this is small in the scheme of things. I can take this opportunity to get to know more people from my community. I'm here for a while. Ticket or not, there was no reason to be rude, surly or poor-me-baby like. Th Brazillian officer seemed so relieved when he didn't have to deal with me making faces and sounds designed to make him feel bad for the economic slap he just gave me. It made me feel good to not make him feel bad. We both made impressions on each other tonight. They were more profound than the tickets.
I gave them both Monkey Works cards with the by line "Don't Be Afraid to Grow" at the top. I dropped a meme on them I thought as I drove away.
Talked with Cee about guerilla theatre concepts. Like some stuff that came up.
Tired now. Will sleep. Deal with life again in the morning.
Today while canvasing for plumaria trees I was pulled over by a cop in Aina Hina. He was stern and not very friendly. I told him I didn't have insurance or current registration, and he saw that my safety inspection was expired. I asked him if he could give me a little break. He told me to go sit in the car. After he punched my name in he walked around his car polishing specs off his chrome and glass listening through the window to the radio. After a while, while still facing his car and polishing his glass, he called me over, told me I had an outstanding violation. He asked me if I knew about that. No, I said. He handed me back my liscense and told me to take care of it, then got in a pulled off.
I drove away a little stunned and thought about how much I liked the Honolulu Police Department. They are so much more humane here I thought to myself as I marveled at my good fortune.
Tonight I had dinner at Cee and Jessicas. He invited me over to meet his parents (He originally from Iriguay, she from Costa Rica) visiting from D.C. I was completely charmed by the whole scene. Lots of candles, shrimp and veggie shish kabab, wine, and fluid conversation about nothing in particular. Then smores and chocolate shaped and wrapped like little booze bottles and full of various liquers.
When time for me to go, Cee came with for the ride to my sisters, where I needed to pick up an invoice before she slept. I was telling Cee about my near miss with the police earlier in the day when a cop appeared at an intersection. I passed it and another cop came over the hill and passed me. I took my next right and the cop followed. I turned into what looked to be an apartment complex and parked and the cop passed. We sat for a minuite. When I pulled back out the cop was parked on the side of the road, waiting. I passed it, it pulled me over. The cop that passed on the hill pulled in as well. thre cops circled my truck and two simultaneously interviewed Cee and me. My cop looked nice enough, big blue open eyes, Brazillian accent. I tried to ask for a break but he shrugged uncomfortably and nodded toward the other cops, a third cruiser pulling in to check out the scene. Ok. So after the other two cars left, the officer returned, with his partner behind him. Tickets for insurance and registration, but they let me go on the safety. I turned to the shadow officer and aked him if they would have come back for me if I had not pulled back out. Yep, he said, he had already seen my year expired tags and know from eight years on the beat that my truck didn't belong there. Ah. Ok. Got me. he lightened up a bit and officer blue eyes seemed a little less nervous. They made it clear that they didn't want to ticket me, but I chimed in and said that I know, it's their job, no hard feelings on my part, we all live in the same neighborhood, I don't need any enemies. I cruised for a year, saving more in insurance and tags than I would pay for the fine tonight(I pray). They have their game, I have mine: Cheers to the games we play.
I love my life and my work, though I haven't made it a priority to make them copacetic with the state power/insurance juggernaut.
As I was getting the tickets I thought, this is small in the scheme of things. I can take this opportunity to get to know more people from my community. I'm here for a while. Ticket or not, there was no reason to be rude, surly or poor-me-baby like. Th Brazillian officer seemed so relieved when he didn't have to deal with me making faces and sounds designed to make him feel bad for the economic slap he just gave me. It made me feel good to not make him feel bad. We both made impressions on each other tonight. They were more profound than the tickets.
I gave them both Monkey Works cards with the by line "Don't Be Afraid to Grow" at the top. I dropped a meme on them I thought as I drove away.
Talked with Cee about guerilla theatre concepts. Like some stuff that came up.
Tired now. Will sleep. Deal with life again in the morning.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Trade winds blowing like mad.
Feet are cold. Up early to hike to the waterfall today. Fixed the water line fairly quickly. Walking back in the morning sun I felt grateful to be here. Glad to be alive again. Paused to soak in the trees swaying on the mountain, the gnarled old koa with the banyan parasites, the stream running full, the dog that is my friend. Emoted gratitude to and for all of it.
I considered the state of the nation that I live in. It is falling, undoubtedly. Buckling under the weight of its delirious good fortune. Like a roman candle, brilliant but brief. Rockstar nation burning out. Overdosed. Going out like Elvis, fat and armed to the teeth. Over run by addiction and parasitic economic groupies. China will recycle us, take our best riffs and capitalize on the trends we set. Like we did to Europe. Now maybe we can go back to being humans, instead of Trade Marked Americans.
One day we will laugh at all this. The immature and flatulent media covering posturing arrogant stars of the left and right coasts. I think it's funny now, only because I am not heavily invested in it. I know how to take cold showers and I've given up most of my addictions. I can live without TV and cigarettes and marijuana and the myth of security. Does your insurance cover falling nations?
Feet are cold. Up early to hike to the waterfall today. Fixed the water line fairly quickly. Walking back in the morning sun I felt grateful to be here. Glad to be alive again. Paused to soak in the trees swaying on the mountain, the gnarled old koa with the banyan parasites, the stream running full, the dog that is my friend. Emoted gratitude to and for all of it.
I considered the state of the nation that I live in. It is falling, undoubtedly. Buckling under the weight of its delirious good fortune. Like a roman candle, brilliant but brief. Rockstar nation burning out. Overdosed. Going out like Elvis, fat and armed to the teeth. Over run by addiction and parasitic economic groupies. China will recycle us, take our best riffs and capitalize on the trends we set. Like we did to Europe. Now maybe we can go back to being humans, instead of Trade Marked Americans.
One day we will laugh at all this. The immature and flatulent media covering posturing arrogant stars of the left and right coasts. I think it's funny now, only because I am not heavily invested in it. I know how to take cold showers and I've given up most of my addictions. I can live without TV and cigarettes and marijuana and the myth of security. Does your insurance cover falling nations?
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Hoo. Boy.
Living on farmers hours these days. Early to bed and early to rise and all that.
Up at 06:45. Clean out a few buckets, throw 'em in the truck, drive down past the gate, but forget my toothbrush. Back up the hill and grab it. Down the drive again past the gate. Forget my phone and notebook. Back up the hill and grab them. Down the hill again and past the gate, and into town. The Sun is perched atop the hill of Waialai Blvd. Driving up and straight into the Sun. I imagine flooring it and jumping through the flaming hoop of a full eclipse. No eclipse today, I am squinting with my hand in front of my eyes dragging an inordinately long shadow behind me.
07:35. Rockstar parking at this early hour. Feed the meter and grab the buckets, enter Coffee Talk. Drop the buckets and order a coffee and bowl of granola, fruit, and yogurt. Take my antibiotics. Grab the full buckets of coffee grinds and off to the dentist. On the way I return a call from yesterday, a guy I met driving down the street in Betty a few weeks ago(he only talked to me because of Betty, wanted to use her to haul some tree trimmings). He wants to buy a tree. Yippie. I had no idea how I was going to pay the dentist today.
08:14. I'm late, but so is the dentist. The good Dr. Is one of the funny dentists, not like the Dr. Tisk-tisk I had far too many years ago. He makes me feel good about my level of neglect. He's seen worse I suppose. I have a host of mouth projects for him; where to start? Somewhere cheap I say. Two fillings and the pulling of a broken molar. I tell him I'm broke, ask if I can pay in the afternoon. Sure, he says with a don't screw me look. The Dr. And nurse are good with the distracting banter that one must master to be a good dentist. Still needs to find a way to include the patient without asking questions though, unless this is some inside dentist joke that they like to play on people. I refuse to attempt answers with the menagerie in my mouth. I just focus on the magic bright dentist light that doesn't burn the eyes. What he lacks in a "professional" demeanor he makes up for in his expeditious technique, a trade-off I am happy with.
09:30. I sit in the truck for a few minutes and work to get my bearings. Blood tinged drool on a quasimoto lip. Nose wants to decongest. I call sis, check in for the morning briefing. Drive back to Coffee Talk to recuperate, drinking cold coffee. Call tree guy, Jordan. He will meet me and follow to farm. I write this:
College radio DJ
informs me that Mercury is in retrograde
Just out of dentist office
a broken tooth pulled
two cavities filled
head feels like a battle field
antibiotics attacking
sinus infection insurgents
Trying not to dribble
fizzing cold medicine
over numb lip
meditative sips
coffee house in Kaimuki
waiting for Kahala home owner
meeting to sell a tree
to pay for teeth
end of year fiscal dredging
money gauze to stop the bleeding
10:45. Drive to the farm. Jordan with a lady feeding my mosquitoes. Show them my trees. They settle on my most impressive pua kenikeni. A fair price for they and I, a dollar five short of the mouth work bill. I smile brighter. They ask if I can plant it for them, then go to pick up compost for the hole. The Poet is planting the Showers. Pay Grey, he helps the Poet. Tree, pick, shovel, saw, stakes, tape, knife loaded and down the hill.
13:00 Coffee Talk for the third time today. Sandwich and lemonade and antibiotics. Talk to Noel. Shining face I won't see this Christmas. She and Shawzy both hopping off this rock in different directions. Tais comps my lunch. Cruise the neighborhood around the golf course looking at landscapes. Listen to NPR. An interview with the big cheese catholic priest of DC. I laugh out loud at the straight face answers. Ludicrous religion. Ludicrous politics. Ludicrous culture. Tragically so. How Nature will show this to the blankly blinking buyers of the scheme I don't know. Though,I imagine the curtains parting for the real deal. Feel the anticipation in the audience, sense the calm before the storm, see the conductor in the orchestra pit readying his baton.
14:00. Dig a hole. Avoid a line. Cut a root. Plant a tree. Sweating profusely. The sickness dripping out of me. Jordan asks questions, senses my situation, asks me to put in more plants soon. Wants more trees. Wants to pay me cash. We make a plan for the weekend. He pays me for the tree, pays me for the planting.
16:30 Pay the Dr. And and marvel at the beauty of this life. Then blow my nose. Go to Kokua and buy Vitamin C, Vitamin E, ginger root and tea. Eat Pizza at Boston's. Talk to Grizz. He feels better about being in South America. His back feels better. He's making friends on the way to Machu Pichu. I buy some more generic robotussin and fluids for the body. Drinking cough syrup from the bottle on the way to the back of the valley. Sun is setting. Kaau crater is wreathed with indistinct clouds.
20:51 Goth Mom delivers dinner to the sniffing writer. The family is up at Ritchies doing laundry. The stream behind the house is raging now. It was quiet when I started writing. The clouds split and a brief but powerful downpour hammered my little shack in the jungle. Water streamed down and around the light socket that illuminates this office. A drop fell from my nose. I continued the prose.
Living on farmers hours these days. Early to bed and early to rise and all that.
Up at 06:45. Clean out a few buckets, throw 'em in the truck, drive down past the gate, but forget my toothbrush. Back up the hill and grab it. Down the drive again past the gate. Forget my phone and notebook. Back up the hill and grab them. Down the hill again and past the gate, and into town. The Sun is perched atop the hill of Waialai Blvd. Driving up and straight into the Sun. I imagine flooring it and jumping through the flaming hoop of a full eclipse. No eclipse today, I am squinting with my hand in front of my eyes dragging an inordinately long shadow behind me.
07:35. Rockstar parking at this early hour. Feed the meter and grab the buckets, enter Coffee Talk. Drop the buckets and order a coffee and bowl of granola, fruit, and yogurt. Take my antibiotics. Grab the full buckets of coffee grinds and off to the dentist. On the way I return a call from yesterday, a guy I met driving down the street in Betty a few weeks ago(he only talked to me because of Betty, wanted to use her to haul some tree trimmings). He wants to buy a tree. Yippie. I had no idea how I was going to pay the dentist today.
08:14. I'm late, but so is the dentist. The good Dr. Is one of the funny dentists, not like the Dr. Tisk-tisk I had far too many years ago. He makes me feel good about my level of neglect. He's seen worse I suppose. I have a host of mouth projects for him; where to start? Somewhere cheap I say. Two fillings and the pulling of a broken molar. I tell him I'm broke, ask if I can pay in the afternoon. Sure, he says with a don't screw me look. The Dr. And nurse are good with the distracting banter that one must master to be a good dentist. Still needs to find a way to include the patient without asking questions though, unless this is some inside dentist joke that they like to play on people. I refuse to attempt answers with the menagerie in my mouth. I just focus on the magic bright dentist light that doesn't burn the eyes. What he lacks in a "professional" demeanor he makes up for in his expeditious technique, a trade-off I am happy with.
09:30. I sit in the truck for a few minutes and work to get my bearings. Blood tinged drool on a quasimoto lip. Nose wants to decongest. I call sis, check in for the morning briefing. Drive back to Coffee Talk to recuperate, drinking cold coffee. Call tree guy, Jordan. He will meet me and follow to farm. I write this:
College radio DJ
informs me that Mercury is in retrograde
Just out of dentist office
a broken tooth pulled
two cavities filled
head feels like a battle field
antibiotics attacking
sinus infection insurgents
Trying not to dribble
fizzing cold medicine
over numb lip
meditative sips
coffee house in Kaimuki
waiting for Kahala home owner
meeting to sell a tree
to pay for teeth
end of year fiscal dredging
money gauze to stop the bleeding
10:45. Drive to the farm. Jordan with a lady feeding my mosquitoes. Show them my trees. They settle on my most impressive pua kenikeni. A fair price for they and I, a dollar five short of the mouth work bill. I smile brighter. They ask if I can plant it for them, then go to pick up compost for the hole. The Poet is planting the Showers. Pay Grey, he helps the Poet. Tree, pick, shovel, saw, stakes, tape, knife loaded and down the hill.
13:00 Coffee Talk for the third time today. Sandwich and lemonade and antibiotics. Talk to Noel. Shining face I won't see this Christmas. She and Shawzy both hopping off this rock in different directions. Tais comps my lunch. Cruise the neighborhood around the golf course looking at landscapes. Listen to NPR. An interview with the big cheese catholic priest of DC. I laugh out loud at the straight face answers. Ludicrous religion. Ludicrous politics. Ludicrous culture. Tragically so. How Nature will show this to the blankly blinking buyers of the scheme I don't know. Though,I imagine the curtains parting for the real deal. Feel the anticipation in the audience, sense the calm before the storm, see the conductor in the orchestra pit readying his baton.
14:00. Dig a hole. Avoid a line. Cut a root. Plant a tree. Sweating profusely. The sickness dripping out of me. Jordan asks questions, senses my situation, asks me to put in more plants soon. Wants more trees. Wants to pay me cash. We make a plan for the weekend. He pays me for the tree, pays me for the planting.
16:30 Pay the Dr. And and marvel at the beauty of this life. Then blow my nose. Go to Kokua and buy Vitamin C, Vitamin E, ginger root and tea. Eat Pizza at Boston's. Talk to Grizz. He feels better about being in South America. His back feels better. He's making friends on the way to Machu Pichu. I buy some more generic robotussin and fluids for the body. Drinking cough syrup from the bottle on the way to the back of the valley. Sun is setting. Kaau crater is wreathed with indistinct clouds.
20:51 Goth Mom delivers dinner to the sniffing writer. The family is up at Ritchies doing laundry. The stream behind the house is raging now. It was quiet when I started writing. The clouds split and a brief but powerful downpour hammered my little shack in the jungle. Water streamed down and around the light socket that illuminates this office. A drop fell from my nose. I continued the prose.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Twelve hours later...
I am alive. The worst has passed. Am taking it easy today, not boggling my mind with things not done. I am not depressed. Thinking about it though, or I wouldn't have said so.
Shawzy called me today. She had a similar illness a couple of weeks ago. In the height of her fever she decided to quit school, sell everything, and run off to a remote section of Moloka'i to help uncover an ancient Hawai'ian village. I am missing her already. Respect her for choosing freedom over the pretense of security.
I'm not chucking everything, though the thought did cross my mind in my fevered state. I'm digging in. I want to know what it feels like to accomplish this task I have taken on. This experiment is still young. I have borrowed money and called people in to help me. I have committed myself to this. This sickness was a well timed slap in the face. A good place to re-calibrate.
Tomorrow morning I hike to fix the water. Set the crew to work then deliver some airlayers. Pow wow with sis in the eve. I have a notebook that I keep with me constantly now. Phone messages, to-do lists, long term projects, appointments.
My parents have a home video of me as a kid standing on the edge of a swimming pool, pumping my arms back and forth in anticipation of jumping in. Then a pause. Then more pumping. Eventually I leap in. My nature caught on celluloid.
I am alive. I don't know if will be tomorrow, but today I am alive. I am thankful for this.
I am alive. The worst has passed. Am taking it easy today, not boggling my mind with things not done. I am not depressed. Thinking about it though, or I wouldn't have said so.
Shawzy called me today. She had a similar illness a couple of weeks ago. In the height of her fever she decided to quit school, sell everything, and run off to a remote section of Moloka'i to help uncover an ancient Hawai'ian village. I am missing her already. Respect her for choosing freedom over the pretense of security.
I'm not chucking everything, though the thought did cross my mind in my fevered state. I'm digging in. I want to know what it feels like to accomplish this task I have taken on. This experiment is still young. I have borrowed money and called people in to help me. I have committed myself to this. This sickness was a well timed slap in the face. A good place to re-calibrate.
Tomorrow morning I hike to fix the water. Set the crew to work then deliver some airlayers. Pow wow with sis in the eve. I have a notebook that I keep with me constantly now. Phone messages, to-do lists, long term projects, appointments.
My parents have a home video of me as a kid standing on the edge of a swimming pool, pumping my arms back and forth in anticipation of jumping in. Then a pause. Then more pumping. Eventually I leap in. My nature caught on celluloid.
I am alive. I don't know if will be tomorrow, but today I am alive. I am thankful for this.
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