kidsoup

ah...

2002-11-18T07:25:39Z

when at last it was over,
i stared down from my perch
a heart's beat from my
simple, sighing poem of a body
that would move only
if i dreamed it.

and there, beneath the air,
but not beneath the skin of time
i realized the fabulous joke
and awoke to try it all again
pulling empty space into
a fabric to weave
about the shimmering
cave i've decided
to call myself.

thinking that i cannot possibly
describe my own death
having not yet died
in this life, i scoff.
for i know, that death
is that creative fire through which we roll
in our listless wandered bliss.

each word, each thought,
each time i turn to touch
i am created. my old
self lying behind me
untouchable,
like an endless trail of
notes i have collected,
each one to build my book.

**************************

watch the bird
now, watch him stare deep
into the sky, into
the winds of his own eyes

watch him cast off those
weights and measures
he once felt bound to.

Agh, i love the world, but i have to rant

2002-11-09T06:09:36Z

Or, it's working title:

"Please, this dream is "good", but it is time to be lucid and affect it sublimely."

One thought: I had a dream about a website where if you sent an email to inquiry about it, you were sent a package. Inside the package was a letter detailinig explicitly how it is that I should kill myself. As an aside, the letter also said: if we find that you have not committed suicide within the day you will be killed anyhow.

Scary eh? Kinda of like the proposal the United States has dumb-headly forced the U.N. Security Council into agreeing to in a last ditch attempt to stop us, my country, under the leadership of vigilante child, George W. Bush--a shady president who is really nothing more than a symbol of a shadow of the great Orge still living in the nation. You can't blame George Bush. Sure, you can take great disdain at the facade, as the nature of his campaign condones hypocrisy, or is hypocrisy, so then does he represent any qualm we may have with the ideas and actions he has "enforced." Though I am not one to question any open-minded individual who contests that our government is not a true democracy. I actually agree, our government is not a true democracy, in fact it is a hideous malformation of the beautiful ideal of a true representative democracy; nevertheless, George Bush actually does represent and give voice to a very large number of Americans and their thoughts and actions about how our should country conduct itself.

when the scarecrow ate the sun he left this message.

2002-11-05T21:34:19Z

First off, I think one of the most important questions is if America really brings to fruition that which it says it fosters. In this case individualism falls into question. Does the current socio-economic and pyschology state of the Nation actually work to prepare its citizens to be of independent thought and action, or at least fall under some semblance of what the word or label "individual" connotes. One would think that the government which serves to foster individualism would, in the end, serve to undermine itself and eventually be forced (not violently) to step down from any position of authority, as society would have provided the means for its citizens and inhabitants to prove self sufficient in all means. To be an individual in mind, speech and action. In other words if the American government was on a mission to inspire individualism we would be in a remarkable different state of existence right now. This can be seen easily in every nook and cranny of modern day government, and really any government ever, after, it seems at least to me, a segway of some indeterminate amount of time during which an newly established government actually conforms to its original ideals. This if often lost, for no government would fall if it performed perfectly, meaning: a government which poses no threat to itself internally or externally. Unfortunantly, this can only be done if the system is set up to inspire individualism, free thought and action while also retaining a sense of duty towards the health of the nation, which is not so black and white as we are led to believe. For the health of society lies not in its Gross National Product, its ability to build marvelous machines or the might of its army, but in its ability to cope and keep truly happy its people and all the resources upon which those human beings are dependent. This sense of duty need not be called Patriotism either, for though Patriotism can be an emporwing product on which to cling and find some kind of comfort in a time of great confusion and hysteria (such as ours), it also falls far short of being useful if it deals only with the interest of itself as A Nation, and forgets that its health is largely dependent on the health of external bodies be they governments or rouge individuals acting out their mission.

I think it can be broken down like this:

(And these are just my thoughts you know...I hope you follow them)

America claims to inspire individualism. How does it do this? Because we are a consumer culture and place an enormous amount of emphasis on the material world to "define exactly who it is we are," and that really seems to be the only purpose in life: to define, understand, embrance and broadcast that which we believe we are. If we believe our purpose in life is love we act out that "character," the image we have built up around ourselves, love is who we are, right? If we believe that our purpose in life is to go to school, get a job, buy a car, get married and have a family that is exactly what we conspire to do, be it with obligatory consciousness or with full attention to those details you might believe to be you. This is not to place judgements, it is simply stating the truth. In America, because we are, since birth, most of us, bombarded with propoganda (not bad necessarily) which influences (obviously) our actions in this life. We are told all are lives that if you buy this product you can have this girl, this home, this life, these certain kinds of emotions. We are corralled into believing in a freedom and individualism fervently burning through our society, transforming all of our children and citizens into pillars of original thought, speech and action, that isn't there. We are led to believe that freedom of choice, that twenty five different kinds of somethings (soaps, magazines, cars, bikes, clothing stores, etc., etc., etc,) can lead to an individual being born. Even though these twenty five different things are truly being manufactured, or provided to us by a incredibly small number of people, perhaps ten of those bars of soap are manufactured by the same company under different subsidiaries, etc. Think Philip Morris: Marlboro, Kraft, Miller Brewing, Philadelphia Cream Cheese, Oscar Meyer, Jell-O, Post Cereal, Maxwell House Coffee and more and more. So here we are, all buying different products for different reasons. ON THE SURFACE WE FIND IT TO BE PEPPERED WITH DIVERSITY, and on closer inspection we find it devoid. This is big business, these are the base roots of the economic superpowers of the world: it is called BIG BUISINESS and big buisiness cannot reconcile itself with an individualistic philosophy which inspires freedom of thought because it cuts sales like mad. And because Government is finaced by these same operations and because our government is in such a tedious bind in terms of being spread pretty much across the entire face of the earth, and because our way of life is supported directly in the exploitation of others "below us" on the social and economic heiarchy, we cannot afford to break the schema of the current. At lease not with out some major rocking of the boat, which I am sure would upset most peoples lives on a large scale...Of course, this is not a bad thing.

I can go to the store and choose to brush my teeth with Tom's of Maine, Crest, Aquafresh, Rembrandt, Colgate, Mentadent, Sensodyne, Arm and Hammer and many other brands of tooth paste. From these eight products I could reliably purchase any of them, giving me myriad choices from which to pick and choose according to my past and future experiences with any of the products. This could lead me to preferring one over the other after a while, and perhaps I could find that I wish to support one brand (Tom's of Maine in my case) over another, like Crest (which is part of Procter and Gambles little pyramid) because of the ethical pratices of the company, the ingredients, etc. This is all great. This is wonderful, I am glad that I have this many choices to choose from. What a feeling of freedom I have when I go to the store. O how independent I am! On the other hand, there are currently only two feasible candidates from which I can choose from and have a reasonable chance at having them elected to the seat of the most powerful person on the face of the earth, in terms of what he stands for. This is ridiculous, not only does this not foster individualism, it puts a damper a huge damper on Patriotism, on true patriotism, as it alienates some percentage of the populous, more, probably, if they would come out and admit their repulsion to certain acts of government. In cuts individualism because you really have no choice, both canidates are operating under similar conditions no matter how they appear to differ on the surface, and not even a third party canidate, someone with perhaps different opinions can even squeeze a finger in due to the already existing structure of government which has been manipulated unconsciously of course through years and years of subtle action in all areas and manners of society under the guise of national interest when really it is just the swelling pride and pocketbooks of a few very rich people. This was not how it was set up. Thomas Jefferson, I believe, would be abhorred by the present system of government and the extent to which the populous has lost its ability to truly think for itself.

Dream Crazy

2002-11-04T20:23:26Z

I am at the beach, again. It is a hodgepodge of memories from several beaches around oregon that I've spent many a happy day in my youth at. Sort of a conglomeration of Lincoln City, Pacific City and the Sand Lake area, maybe mixed in with a bit of Zion National Park, as my beach often has a brocade of tall, sandy red cliffs running along the neckline of the ocean which is usually in a state of large upset. The light is a the gray dim of a dream, but sparkling too. I have come to the beach with a group of my friends, some from Portland (Ian, Nick, Michael and Jill from work) and a few are from school (Crystal, Heather, River, Jimmy and of all people--Pilar, who I don't know at all). I am not exactly sure as to why we are at the beach, I think we've come just to take a trip and have fun. We are staying at the beach house of my childhood, an old moldy run down building. Although in my dream it is much nicer, and larger than in reality as it had many rooms, bunk beds, a nice backyard and very large pool. The dream began with all of us, everyone I'd come with, and my family (in the beginning) arriving at the beach and stopping to look up to see if there was any rain on the way. It was night time, I believe, around midnight or so, though the clouds in the sky had a glow to them and so it didn't really look like midnight. We were all waiting for the rain, although it felt as though we were waiting for something else. All of a sudden an air raid siren pierced the night in a shrill cry and far off in the distance one could see light red-light alarms whirling on top of tall posts. All of a sudden everyone was screaming and they started to run away. I didn't understand why, but then I saw it, far off in the distance, falling from the sky was a small light. I knew immediatly that it was a nuclear missle and that I was going to die and there was nothing much I could do about it. I stayed to watch it for a moment as it got closer and closer to the ground and changed shape from a small falling light to a very odd and strange looking vessel that almost looked like a japanese crane, although it moved in such a fashion I have never seen in "waking life." It sort of tumbled through the air, always falling but zigzagging in a wild and random pattern across the sky very fast and gracefully, all the while falling towards the firmament. It had more than two wings also, I believe it had four triangular wings that moved in what I can only best describe as asymetrical motion that was quite sychronized and quite beautiful. At the last moment fear overtook me and I ran away and the dream changed scene and nothing came of the nuclear missle. Suddenly on the beach all alone by the cliffs. These are the same cliffs where I attained lucidity and found a dead raven in the sand, the same cliffs that I often walked beside in my dreams. Wake up, Alec, wake up to your lucid, lucid mind during these times! I was walking alongside these cliffs in the dark of night, by the sand, by the ocean. I was all alone. Suddenly I realized that I was being chased by some being. I didn't know who it was exactly, or even what it was, I simply felt some kind of presence in the night and it scared me immensely. I began to run in my dream, but no matter how fast I ran, or where I went (I was weaving about the rocks and the sand next to the omnious cliffs) the thing was still constantly behind me. For a brief moment I attained the lucid state, but I could hardly keep it, and in that moment I flew up and away very, very fast, weaving in and out of powerlines that were stretched across the sky. It felt invigorating, but also like I was leaving something very importand behind me. Now in retrospect it probably would have been a better idea to simply stay put and confront whatever it was that seemed to be chasing me. That is the plan for next time: Stop running away! Anyways, I landed back at the beachhouse where all my friends were and they were in the living room watching television. Nick said that he couldn't go climbing or play at the beach anymore because he and Ian had gotten up real early in the morning to go climb up on the rocks and cliffs and he'd fallen and sliced open the heel of his foot. He held up the ragged foot to show me a nasty scar across his heel. By this time it was very early in the morning and so I told my buggered friends that I was off to bed because I hadn't slept all night. So I went to my room at the beach house, climbed into the top bunk and fell "asleep" inside my dream. I woke up into another dream that I was at the same beach house and that all my guy friends were outside sitting in some lawn chairs smoking cigarettes and talking and laughing. I was in the same bunk, but I knew I was asleep, not lucid, but I knew I was dreaming...sort of...however, I had no idea I was dreaming inside of a dream. It had begun to drizzle outside and so I lifted up the window next to my bed and lay there for a while listening to the beautiful rain and watching as it collected on the glass and slid down to the pane in dime sized drops. It was beautiful. I got up then and forgot that I was dreaming completely and walked around until I found Heather, I believe. I told her how I had had a dream about washing her dreadlocks in which they'd been as big as a pool and fat and thick and beautiful. We talked for a few moments and then she dissapeared, and Crystal and River appeared and we were in the New Seasons deli and I was crouching down behind the cash register. I saw the two girls and I said: Hey, what are you kids up to. Crystal responded plainly, and slightly annoyed, that she and River were going to get some food and then they simply walked off. I felt sort of lost, sort of confused, sort of sad that she didn't really want to speak with me, but ultimately it was not all that bad. The dream scene changed then and I was sitting on a couch underneath a blanket sitting next to Pilar and speaking with my friend Jill from New Seasons Market who was sitting across from myself. We were speaking and having a jolly old time. I turned around to ask Pilar a question and she kissed me and it was really gross. I didn't like it, much less I didn't really expect it at all. I pulled away and Pilar just cracked up. Jill sat dumbfounded, and I blushed like an ember. Pilar then got up and went away and I sat back on the couch and started speaking with Jill. I told her that I didn't have any idea she was going to kiss me, and that it was sort of weird that it happened. That was about the extent of my dream...then the phone rang in my bedroom at "home" at 3004 in Portland and I awoke!

Earlier in the dream me and Ian and Michael and Nick were taking a rubber dingy motor boat tour through this small inland sea water lake, or sound or some kind of bay. I had a really terrible feeling gettting on the boat even though everything was beautiful and lush and green on the shores of the area, the water was dark, deep and cold and there was a fog to the air. We had been traveling around for awhile when we came to spot in the lake and the man turned the engine of the boat off. We saw one ring like fishing next in the distance sitting on the surface of the water, but one could tell that it hung below many feet in a bowl shape. All of a sudden the net started to move towards us and the tour boat guide said that there was nothing to worry about, it's just a shark in that net, it can't get out, we keep her in there for the tourists to see. As the net got closer and closer we could all see that yes indeed there was a shark in the net/cage. It was a gigantic shark too, a great white. I immediatly got very apprehensive. As the shark approached we all craned to see it. We could see its huge form swimming through the water, propelling both itself and the net forwards. As it got within several feet of the boat the tour boat guide started his engine and we began to glide just in front of the shark. He said something like the shark will just follow us for a while and then loose interest as it can't get out of the cage. Suddenly though another huge shark surface right next to the boat, even bigger than the one in the next and we all freaked out. The tour guide screamed and gunned the motor and we took off with the two sharks chasing us. My friend Nick fell into the water then, thankfully grabbing on to the edge of the boat, and we going so fast but we just couldn't escape the sharks, they were gaining on us and on Nick who was panicking. The tour guid then took out a huge old flint lock rifle and stood up on the bow of the boat and just as the biggest shark was about to get Nick--his jaws were literally about to close over his head, the man fired the rifle and the shark got hit. I don't feel as though it were killed, but that it simply vanished, or something. We pulled Nick into the boat and the scene changed and I was lying on the bottom of the lake bed, though it was much smaller now and it had been drained of all its water. It was covered with things from my past and things about me, most of which I have little recollection of. Goodnight!

A letter, a letter...O, what could be better?

2002-11-03T07:42:33Z

Last night I biblllllllllllllllllll'd down to Anna Bannana's, this neat little Tea Shop, etc. near twenty first or on twenty first, or maybe its twenty third...Anyways, me, Anothy, Coco, and their friend Matt (dj. hairy palms), who is one cool kid, hung out drank some tea, conversed a little under the freezing bare night of November first and drew until our toes soaked up the frib of the night and we were all lacksidasical. We had a freestyle sesh in the car. Anthony is amazing, he is like the blood of the life itself and a dandelion to boot, and Coco got mo flow to flow than joejoes and hotdogs got grease! Damn! hah. I like to ryhme too, its fun.

The other night I sang the Fox on Socks book. Its amazing...

When tweedle beetles fight, its a tweedle beetle battle!

Dr. Seuss is amazing. Agh, the whole universe is a peach of amazing and here I am barely even broken through the skin...Mmm..when I get to the pit, perhaps then, many lifetimes from now I can discard that old fruit and reach for a new one!

Alright, so here is a letter I wrote to Jimmy. I like the concept. Itsapiecetotremble!

//:log{a]
a: 0011/2/2002-OR97212 Hu//:Transmission

Once upon a time long, long ago on the planetary plane in one of the smaller, less significant (astronomically) solar systems, there was a planet called Earth. Inhabited by a marvelous, but rather inept group of bipods (part of the great ape family),
its species classification in "Latin[1]" given to itself by itself was: Homo sapien. On this beautiful green, lush and lively planet, a blue cosmic bloom in the bowl of the universe, lived a younger member of the Homosapien species, he was a "male[2]", and went by the "name[3]" of Jimmy Goodman, which was short of James Goodman which, by not ironically conceived happenstance, was also the name of his father. He knew another member of this species quite intimately his name was Kidsoup. They had shared secrets in the cool hours of the morning, brushed their teeth together, slept night after endless night in the same shared room covorting under their covers as friends to sublime notations raining down from the stars in musical whoopdeehollers and straight-arrowed flights of cosmic dream proportion. They had been good roommates and good, well porportioned men. They had been innocuous towards one another mostly, never finding rage or malice to shut through to their hearts. They cared about one another deeply, the way trees bend and sway caring for the Earth and all her children, but none too attached, and that is good...Once long, long ago, Kidsoup, sent a quiet message to the gods of the universe from a small, pink coven in the bare corner of the kitchen at the place where he lived in a town called Portland, which had nearly twelve bridges and a host of beautiful Japanese plum trees. The message left his mind at exactly 10:35[4] in the evening and traveled throughout the cosmic pulse and back in exactly one million-billion-trillionth of a second and rearrived, again, a staunch one million-billion-trillion to the one-hundreth seconds later. It was caught on spider web strand hanging in broken reverie, admiring a soft dew that had condensed on it and caused it give off the casual sexual glimmer of stones beneath the currents of a clear puddle. The message when caught caused a sudden vibration, imperceptible to the naked eye. A quiver so shallow it might take shape as night for quick moments and cause the nape of one's neck to stitch. A quiver, and the dew that had collected slid off the dangling translucent strand and into the eye of Mr. Willow Stitchery who has no eye at all, but believe he does. With a garuff, and haruff he sped along his way ignorning the sharp, nearly impercitible wink during his sleeping dead day. Had he known what the dew contained he might surely have reacted quite differently.
That night Mr. Willow Stitchery had a dream, the dream, which had been influenced by the thought containing dew drop, was intercepted by us here at the Global Oribtal Dreamwatch, a small craft of incredible potential, not only in the technology it employs, but also in that for the first time the exquistively bright and wise dream conscience can be tapped into exclusivly by trained Dreamwalk Masters (BlueLagoonists) allowing access to the entire global dreamscape "mind". At the macrocosmic level this is the entire universe which is constantly in creative motion reacting to and against all other dreams during their momentous creative lives. This works along commenly acknowledged laws and physcical principles as well as within the general acknowledged scope of those laws regarding the unseen universe, i.e. anything which cannot be viewed by sight. This dream universe rests in a state of perpetual inclusive abandonment, where the veiwer is both the observer and the observed and interacts on a primordial level of dream intuition. This is that from which the subjective dreams arise. We use this "universe" as a means to enter into the subjective microverse (and do not be follygizzar
'd by the root: micro, as each subjective universe is infinite scope, i.e. any and all things can be born into these worlds). Using state of the art technology, we here at G.O.D. have access to any and all beings (all of beneath, above, or below you) and their dreams via certain conduits, which are really self-manipulated doors between space, to the dreams and to influence or guide as we see fit. Of course this all has to be under the consent of the dreamer, other why we would not be able to enter into that particular state of reality at that time for we would for no one can enter the domain of the individual and their particular stream of conscience unless invited. This is not always a verbal invitation but can be disguised many ways, or hidden within the deep, unreachable recesses of the subconscious (which are, thankfully, accessed during sleep, or dreamstate reality). With this to boot, it must be explained that we have never not been let in. The subjective dreamer is always more than ready to welcome us, either consciously, but more often subconsciously, which causes a special kind of mergence between two states of existence at different states of vibration allowing for a door to form. We enter, more or less. Really though it as though a vaccum, or some other inextricably force pulls us in, at which time we assume a form(s) that we (the dreamer's subconscious and ourselves) have aggreed upon. We sometimes, though wear out our welcome according to the subjective emotional response to our presence, which cannot always be the most pleasant thing. This is often because the dreamer asks us to take the form of somthing very unpleasant, such as a gnarled succubus with thin starchy skin and bones and breath like rotting flesh, in a hope that they can overcome their apprehensions of what this "being" (ourselves) represent cognitivly, emotionally and psychically.
Anyway...Agh, I suddenly got sleepy. So I guess its not much of a letter, but its rather interesting don't you think? Tell me about what happened the other day. Why'd you get so frustrated? Laterz, home skillet!

love,
the ninja kid

1.
(a formal langauged rendered obselete circa 1200 b.e.a.c.s.i.k. before the era of the ceasing of anima, souls, idea and energy [K is used to represent Universal Energy, or light])

So give me some kind of sign girl, o my baby...

2002-11-01T06:37:55Z

Haha. That line has been trampling from point to point to point in my head for the last day, since Catherine and I heard it on the radio on the way to get some tea. note: my first time driving in almost four weeks...quite the trip.

Recently the weather in Portland has been rather frigid. I'm concerned for all the children of California's more balmy temperatures as they might parish with the early freeze. Its made my bike rides in the morning to work all the nicer, as it is crisp sort of music about, although, at night, when the temperature falls below arctic and my hands feel as though they are going to fall off, its not as pleasant; however, it is still nice, and then you can just bundle up more and close yourself off from the moving automoic world around you. I love hovering down the street on a glow in my bike in the wee hours of the morning in my silent cave of rider solitude. Such a good meditation.

In other news...I went to Santa Fe. I came back. It was quite beautiful, startling really, the vibrant colors of the sky. It is easy to forget those things which make your whole heart reach towards its own almost supernatural gravity, girls, skies, moons, dreams, ideas, souls and eyes! Easy to forget when you are detached and cannot glimmer upon it. Then, in its absence, it is filled by something else, and thus the external is balanced change, wanted or unwanted. Something I'm gradually unfolding to is to take heed in all those things internal (which can then be called external too) and listen to them, finding joy in them, and then watching this joy radiate, paint itself on all external experiences. So, even though I miss Santa Fe and the beautiful people there, and not, Christopher Uhleman, Nicholas Guettler, Carolyne Whelan, Cassidy Geppert, Yaminah Ak. Orr, Jimmy Goodman, Mercedes Allen, Shawn Whittaker, Sean Miller, Crystal Hope, Daphne Hayner, Heather Strickland, Melissa Frost, Kate, Frosty, Pete, Clay, Cara, Emily, Anthony, Ben, Eric, Annie, Jean-Pierre, K.T., little Katie, Jessica, J.R., Dana, Jason, Tiffany, all the Ryan's (Fitzy too!), Briget, Jessica T., Lilly, Adiere, Other Heather (with a bob), and all the other people, far away and vast as the stars who have been in my life, will be or are...I am still happy to be where I am in the present momemnt. Life is good. Always will be even in the shittiest of times.

Got to go and have a fire in my bedroom now. Bye.

sublime notations

2002-09-26T06:38:17Z

o muse speak through me as violet light embedded in the firmament of mind.
speak through me wild, like the cactus and its yellow dance in may flings with the first inclination of rain, or such causeways as allow access to the primordial art of living earth. breathing like the chandelier swaying in a clockwise pattern above the head of the golden Matreya Buddha, the Buddha who is coming, at temple tonight with the Geshe and three hundred beautiful vibrant vessels each in revival to the sound of their hearts, sewn into their bodies by the rounds of existence again and again staring at the remains of the Shakyamuni Buddha, Ananda, Majurshri and other eclectic spiritual alchemist of the world. Still alive, still alive, still dead, still dead, neither, neither. it was then that the black clouds of light filled the room and pleasantly it was neither melancholic nor angery, erotic nor numb, but beyond the comprehension of words, meaning, emotion unparalled by any activity my lonely feet have romped upon. and the clouds of black light were held in the eyes of turtles, lizards, birds, demons, ghosts and the haunting thougts of windchimes. the same black light which consumed me again and again over the past two years as i struggled to leap from dawn into the earth, bury myself alive again and again, not realizing that one's heart cannot be stabbed or suffocated; rebirth from emptiness, like water moving into air, into cloud and back to the earth, like the slight of a thin tunnel of leaves lightly dancing down the street, like mud in its sinuous ways hardening into chasms and gorges, deep dry river beds to channel sweet rain away and slough away its surface in a gem of muck. one said, i prefer the mud. oh so i do and apples too and anything fresh alive and in quiet, active rebellion against these plastic hands building plastic building turning fresh flesh, the petals of sweat of the earth in ardent exhaustion after years of neglect, into husks of intellect, parading about like that naked king in his splendor. who am i to direct such comments, to lavishly praise, to dance? i am nothing. i am not who you think i am. i am the moment of the last and only moment to occur before the next. to elucidate: i am that i am, i am i am i am.

rambled. jumpy. mirror-like.

king midas' tomb in a state of decay because of his diet so rich in meats and lavish haughty appraisal.

forget yourself and your jealousies. come join me in forgetting the names of all things. let us together jump off the cliff into the apocolypse that we might pass through the many layers of fire and smoke burning off our flesh, our concern for trite conditioning, our many thorns and chains. let us fall into the mouth of the lion and let him digest us. let us become the damp soil and from our apologies to all that has ever existed and will exist let us shed a tear for all that we have down and let it sow a single fire-weed.

rikitikitimbonosarimbo

2002-09-21T17:56:52Z

i think its exquisite. everything, just the way it is. divine divine divine.

i know this is ridiculous

2002-09-17T20:15:51Z

so there was this bear and his name was henry. he had a tupee and a furnace and then he had a dog too. there was a man named Iliitui Ooo. He was from the country of Sparda, beneath the floam of many seas and destinies all scrunched down into one flaming mortuary of piddless human desires. When henry and the man, the great man I should say, Iliitui Ooo a pond was formed between the two. A relentlessly still pond, would not shake itself up for one step or two. A ball of pure light, gray light, the light that is the affect of countless mirrors, the light beneath the surface of a mirror, the grayhushyban light of dreams, hovered between the two, above the lake and from it cast a shadow. The bear took his tupee and put it on his head, he opened his furnace up full and it began a dance of heeattt. spelled just like that, heeattt. the dog, the bear with the tupee and furnace, his dog he let out a yelp and the great Iliitui Ooo gurgled an: ugh, i'm from sparda, you dumb bear, you'll never be a man, I am great and i have fire. henry, that's the bear remember, looked down at his fuzzy feet, those big galoshish slippers of feet, much unlike the pink nubbies of the spardan. Gosh, your right. The pond sat still, the ball of light ner moved an inch. the man and the bear stared one another down, the dog yelped and from the trees came a great howling sound. ahwoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

what's that cried the man? the ball of light began to move up and down. bobbled. dove straight into the lake. ahwoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
the dog began circling about itslef, chasing its tail. the bear stood still, ripped off his tupee, shut down the furnace and the leaves! the leaves from all around thrashed themselves against the turmoil of the air, the embers left cold by the silent furnace. the man, the great man cowered in terror, brought his hands to his eyes and screamed: please!

and then, just like that.

rythmn spectacular

2002-09-05T19:24:51Z

...the show began with smoke: cigarette, bidees, cloves and bamba. i partaked in none of it, but it filled the air with a kind of social-hip aroma that is at once enticingly aromatic and disturbingly chic, and so i was a bit googoo and in between extremes...which was nice; a fine medium. some fool dj was up on stage, doing his poor best to keep the crowd at the crystal ballroom in a semi-like trance with myriad shallow breaks to which no one could dance too. his best efforts, i am sure were expended; nevertheless, the floor at the crystal is meant to bounce and shake, to swell and bellow with the movement of the crowd. his beats thougher were dead, limp, stagnant. after three quarters of an hour waiting a sudden hush fell upon all of us gathered there as zef, the dj, left the house and a little man appeared from a doorway to the right of the stage. heading straight for the tables he laid down a sick beat grabbed the mic and shouted, "who's ready for a Gift?" it was an eruption, like the entire population of the planet were inside the room and built of magma, even the lights cast a glow of the devil's red as fire spit from our lungs in shouts and the tremelo gave way to rapture as the Gift of Gab appeared on stage followed by Lateef and two young kids i've never heard of or seen before, but they had the voices of dark caramel and honey and so i didn't complain. the show took off then, encircling me and the rest of the crowd in a sort of lyrical and rythmic ecstasy causing the crowd to move in a dance only comparable to the flight of birds flitting this way and that in perfect unison, forgetting the self, becoming winged and merging with the sky. i doubt i'll ever come down from that glorious rapture.

yesterday.

2002-09-04T08:35:34Z

so i flew about the world and back yesterday...at least my immediate world and the day before that i lost my wallet at the pool hall...pitiful, forgetful me took it out of the back pocket of my jeans and placed in a on a pool table and never remembered to put it back in. bye-bye eighty five dollars! bye-bye credit card! bye-bye debit card! bye-bye social security card...ouch. however there is no need to dwell on those things that cannot be fixed, and who knows maybe it will all turn out for the better when eventually the government comes to get me and they can't find me because my identity was stolen by a heinous robot named Gregory from dimension twelve when i was twenty and for the last sixty four years he's been living as one Alec Steury studying the bizarre antics of a primitive monkey-culture on a small planet at the edge of a very common looking galaxy that, for some strange and rather goofy reason the hairless apes had decided to call the "milky way." so watch out world, now that i have no identity i can throw all the baggage out the window and become a real ninja named stone-arm shadow fox. ooga booga, that's what i, Alec, the future primitive ape-being says.

so yesterday i went around the world, right? my friends and i rode bikes down to the the airport, then to river and down the bike path. and then, like fiends with no regard for the disgusting fried chicken that we later found out to be the odd-shaped "stick" we saw floating in the water, jumped in to the brown cool wet in our skivvies and went for a swim. it was nice until i started thinking about the dream i'd had the night before in which a gigantic shark had been trying to eat me. and then i thought about bull sharks and how they can swim up river in freshwater for hundreds of miles and then, even though i know there's no bull sharks in our near the columbia river slough, i had to get out because there is something about big deep water and monster that sort of creeps me out. after that we rode to the park and sat about in the grass and then...

look for more fun and excitement in tomorrow's edition of: dominican aka alec aka kid soup aka the ninja kid has no identity, but he still has adventures when our hero encounter two professional ballet dancers, a drumset, leftover spaklers from the fourth and...Blackalicious, including, but not excluding, the Gift of Gab, Lateef, Chief Excel and the Lifesavas crew...

ooga booga...

la la la

2002-09-02T01:25:17Z

last night i made a mix tape and, after not having anything to do with marijauna for over a week and half now, ate a half a ganja food sandwich my sister and i made. woo...madness. the tape i made, while spinning about the chairs in my living room in a glitzy haze, contains such amazing artists as:

DJ vadim. DJ Shadow. Amon Tobin. Jurrasic Five. Blackalicious. Latryx. The Herbalizer. DJ Krush. Lauryn Hill. DJ Babu and the Beatjunkies. Rahzel. Asia Born. UNKLE. Lyrics Born. Tabla Beat Science (Zakir Hassin). 2 The Left. Mass Influence. Saul Williams and Sara Jones.

Ooga booga. I like.

-------------------

i played pool last night with my friend Ian who used to be a computer programmer, but has decided to pursue his interest in flamenco guitar music instead. hah hah one more point for the brilliant youth of revolution humanity / strike one from the Empire! also with us were two beautiful professional ballet dancers, one of whom, Ian is dating. they were very nice. i couldn't play pool worth a damn however, i think mostly because my eyes were bugging out and doing all kinds of weird things. i think the magic sandwiches unglued them from their sockets causing my aim to be at least a centimeter or two off each time i shot. ugh. i got home about one thirty, around the time my sister got home. oh, ps. i wasn't driving...i think i've actually given up on driving. i've been riding my roadbike everywhere. my sister and her two friends stayed the night. one of her friends got in a fight with another girl she told me, and then it was terribly sad because i guess the has massive pyschological problems stemming from parental abuse as a child. my sister is so beautiful though, she told me that she just wanted to cry for her friend. she is a very compassionate girl. i made a vegan potpie then (not pot pot, just pot) cause i hadn't eatn since about six and we watched part of the movie "The Wicker Man," which is a rad movie. fantastic. and one of only three movies that i have seen with a less than opportune ending (at least for the mainies (you know, main character = mainy; pluralized = mainies).

-------------------

i went to be and had a dream that i moved everything out of my basement and repacked it like i was getting ready to go. it was so realistic that i was actually getting tired and sweaty in my dream because of the ridiculous mass of the boxes and because i was getting frustrated upon realizing that this is the billionth time i've seemed to move in the last while. after getting everything packed up and ready to go i went outside and it was as foggy as i would imagine the dark lochs of scotland can be on a creepy dawning day. i woke up entirely confused because my room was still in the same order i had left it and because half my self was still trapped in the dreamworld. it takes me at least ten minutes to be awake awake. before then i hear things and see things that i don't think are really there. ooga booga.

-------------------

i read cat's cradle by k. vonnegut too yesterday and the day before. a very, very good book about the absurd and beautiful helplessness of life and all our relatinos to things and people and plants and animals about us. as Bokonon (the negro religious leader from San Lorenzo island) says in one of his "famous" calypsos:

Oh, a sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
And a British queen--
All fit together
In the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice--
So many different peole
In the same device.

quite a humblin statement. esp., his paraphrase of Jesus' "Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's":

"Pay no attention to Caesar. Caesar doesn't have the slightest idea of what's REALLY going on."

quite poignant, yes. So I say: ooga booga.

happenings

2002-08-31T10:10:55Z

the last two days have been a little strange. not in any particular order i have seen:

two conjoined dog fetuses stewing in an odd clear broth.

an organic vegan frozen fruit bar stand next to a guy selling pictures of chairs.

a shooting star about twice the size and brightness of the north star fall from one side of the sky to the other.

a movie where a rabidly christian scottish police man is burned alive in a gigantic wicker icon with ducks, geese, a calf and a goat.

a two year old girl call her nanny t dog.

a potbellied pig named priscilla with john waters flavor hotpink hooves.

a cafe called the dirty lapdog (though this was four days ago).

a dog that looks like a muppet.

a man in a subway sandwich costume.

i also vaccumed my driveway; took home a gigantic three foot tall stuffed raccoon toy in a backpack along with one jasmine flower and beautiful play-doh looking magenta dragon flower; road into a parked car on my road bike at four in the afternoon; took a green plastic mermaid from my old work and sat in a mud puddle with a little girl named kiara; saw the twenty two minutes of a movie where a women is shot by a bazooka, a gun, run over by a bus, and thrown off a building. each time she dies she's reborn; somehow lost eight pounds in four days (i really have no idea how this happened); ate alligator in a dream; spilled a bucket of painty water on my carpet; walked into a shelf of movies; fell into a cutting board while trying to butter bread; made a play-doh snake; stumbled into and rebroke a table my dad had just fixed and cut my foot open; found a monstrous three legged mosquito killing bug; ate couscous, springrolls, blueberries, sundried tomato and basil rissoto, vegan chocolate chip peanut butter cookies and potato leek pancakes at one meal; read half of cat's cradle; built a worm box and called 234-WORM to get some worms; had tin foil swan given to me; and used the force to build an igloo in the southpacific and hatch a diabolical plan involving my newly cloned doppelganger an applecart and sixteen dutch goats skilled in the craft of basketweaving and a single peanut balanced on my left pinky. muhahahaha...

la belle e le bete

2002-08-28T09:30:10Z

tonight i went to see the french poet jean cocteau's version of "beauty and the beast" at cinema 21. it is an incredibly well made film. i loved it. laura, mia and laura's boyfriend, jason, and i all went together and it all went spectacular.

its so strange though...as long as i've known laura the dynamic has been laura and alec. not laura, some guy, and alec. it is not a bad dynamic. i actually rather enjoy it, it is an amazing opportunity to be alive and thus it seems that all things, even this oddness, should be taken with a spoonful of sugar. yes, i still am in love with laura, but this experience of love is much different than my last. this time it is a love without attachment. she is very happy and that is all i want. true, i would wish for nothing more than to run around like little children with laura for a period of months with no thoughts of either party leaving to go to school or something as insidious as that (hah)but, this will not happen for many years, it may never happen. until then or not, i can simply love laura and love others and let life take its rolling, hillarious and beautiful course. i will lie there in my raft, this body, and shanty about with a wicked dumb but happy grin and a box inside my head filled with glittery treasure. woooh.

afterwards we doped over to the Montage a cajun bistro-esque night palace at its haunt underneath the morrison bridge. its open to four a.m. i believe, one of the latest in portland (twentyfour hour diners excl.), and they serve alligator, something like twenty five kinds of mac and cheese, gumbo, bouillubaise, red beans and rice and ten and half million deserts (or so it seems). the waiter, he looked sort of like a stoned banana man with wild brown hair and white captains jacket, gave us a free mud pie, which laura and jason kindly ate as i had the cajun mac and cheese with cajun gravy and some kind of mouth-numbing pepper that turned the roof of my mouth to a wet lair of peeling paint (it really felt like this). all in all a rather exciting evening. plus, the wait staff at the resteraunt tin-foiled my leftovers into a nice and tidy rabbit. plus, they've got an amazing black and white rendition of "the last supper" in a sort of matisse/escher/woodblocklikebutpainted style. fantastic.

what else

2002-08-27T20:46:44Z

i got home late friday evening. i didn't do much. my sister and i hung out and talked. walked around the pink catholic church near the house and then climbed an old cherry tree and played there for awhile. she's going to marry her boyfriend she said. i told her that when i was seventeen and in love i once thought the same thing. and that times, people, situations, even love changes. we spoke about how we both believe that once you fall in love with someone, if you ever truly loved them, you cannot just fall out of love; how you will forever hold them inside your heart, almost as though they were a piece of you; even it is just a silver or a mere fragment of what it used to be. love is a strange thing, and thing that has been on my mind much of recent. its funny, when you come home to a place you haven't been to in a while, you are suddenly assailed by the many myths of yourself that you've created presently, and all those you thought you left behind. i for one am still in love with the girl i broke up with over a year ago. love, love, love: beneath that word lies the most beautifully confusing world, both radically mundane and divine. it is a pear, a peacock and a pen.

ookie ookie pak chopsuie

2002-08-27T20:04:39Z

so i've been home for a while now. my roadtrip through northeastern new mexico, arizona, california and oregon was hot. half way through the literally hell-bound fires of the arizona red strip Syd (that's my ugly car) started overheating on the flatest, hottest stretch of land in the world and so began a rough two hundred miles with the heat full on and the windows down. driving then became all the more fun as my vision began to blog and drear from both the wave of asphalt merging with the air and the engine pouring coffee-hot oxygen into my little red sarcaphogus, my own personal metal box on wheels, and i died slowly in the driver's seat. but really i don't know how i possibly made it back. perhaps it was the enormous number of ice cream cookie sandwiches that repeatedly jumped from the icebox in the store through my stomach through and through. or maybe it was just blind luck. or maybe it wasn't nearly as bad as i make it out to be. i stopped off at motels the first two nights. the original plan was to bed down in my car the first two nights and then camp it the last two; however, as plans tend to go awry...

i watched the beginning of the godfather the first night and then read some and took a bath, walked over to safeway and bought a calculater and then nearly dropped in on this funky old dairy queen, thought the better of it, and ended up malting about in the sugared-pepped fun of my own motel room. my grandmother had packed me a little bag of snacks before i left illinois for the plane ride home to abQ in which she placed these horrendously sweet granola bars imbimbed with the stuff of generations of american snack-cake flavor and wholesome goodness. the second motel i stayed in the door was ajar when i entered the room. the bed wasn't made. it smelled a little like mold, cigarettes and dewy magazines and the sheets and pillow cases had blood on them. it was a mildly creepy night. nothing happened, though, i am free to report. i am still here happily enough.

i camped out thursday, the night before i got home, in redwoods populated Bimby, California three miles from the nearest interstate and near a rad concrete tressel arched over a small, silent river. i got in late. probably three hours before the sun set. drank half of the green dragon herbal i brewed for luca and myself and then sat about in equipose on this great house rock and watched five ravens dance about the sky in twirls and talk with the many trees perched in their own quiet revivial. i smoked a little ganja then and read ms. carolyne's co opt my heart ii in a lightning crowned grin of wonder. i think even the raven took notice to my giddyness, as about the time i finished the zine the ravens had become quite wild, zig-zagging from one tall tree to the next and then in an arc that brought them periously close to the ground, knifed close enough that i was nearly swept away.

the last day of the car trip was spent driving up 101 into oregon and then following the coast to home. my stereo broke on the way while listening to the beastie boy's album hello nasty...again! and on the same song that it broke to last time. agh. it was weird. i stopped along the highway somewhere out of coos bay and found the most incredible beach lagoon in the world. the whole place was shrouded by fog and tall trees covered the hills in a kind of forlorn blanket that dissapeared and reappeared with the whim of the morning. i would give anything to experience the world in its unpolluted majesty.

portland

2002-08-20T04:17:17Z

its been a busy little two weeks but i'm finally home and here to stay...for some three hundred plus days at least...more later.

ah' gots the scruvy surrrveys

2002-08-06T00:58:14Z

i'm waiting to leave work, but i can't until this one dumb tape finishes and then i'm off...until then...

1. IF YOU COULD BUILD A HOUSE ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD IT
BE? somewhere in the pacific northwest near opal creek or the southern pacific...indonesia perhaps? or maybe the somewhere near north africa in the sea.

2. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ARTICLE OF CLOTHING? i really like my light gray hoody, my red felt clogs with cork soles (they're great, floopy olds) and i bought a pair of carhartts yesterday with bc and michael, they're rather comfortable as are my old beat up brown cordies. hmmm...i don't know. i like to be comfortable. i don't think i really have a favorite piece of clothin...ooh, though i must say that my yoda shirt from 1980 something is quite nice.

3. FAVORITE PHYSICAL FEATURE OF THE OPPOSITE SEX? eyes, lips, calves, shoulders, neck, feet, hands, bellies, and hips.

4. WHAT'S THE LAST CD THAT YOU BOUGHT? The Private Press by Dj Shadow.

5. WHERE'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO BE? Like the person who sent this to me, I too like to be in my head; however, recently i've realized that i'm always in my head anyway...everyone is...so i'd rather just be here.

6. WHERE'S YOUR LEAST FAVORITE PLACE TO BE? i really dislike shopping malls, strip malls, auto-malls, concrete plaza parkways and any place where i cannot see a plant within twenty feet of me...and cerillos and saint francis streets in santa fe. i doubt good old Francis would like those blunderbutt roads criss-crossing through beautiful new mexico highland.

7. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO BE MASSAGED? my feet. i'm a fish and thats the place they say is mine and i agree.

8. WHAT'S MOST IMPORTANT, STRONG IN MIND OR STRONG IN
BODY? strong in mind, and strong in body...if you can help it.

9. WHAT TIME DO YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? eight o'clock usually during weekdays and then anywhere from seven to eleven on weekends.

10. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE KITCHEN APPLIANCE? i enjoy a good sharp knife.

11. WHAT MAKES YOU REALLY ANGRY? the state of the great global mind...its rather uneducated and thus ignorant of its own preoccupation with many, many unimportant things, and oblivious to much of what life can offer. maybe it just makes me sad, and then because i'm sad and because propbably everyone is sad to some degree everywhere in every time and place, that i get angry because it doesn't have to be this way. i get angry to get things done. i don't get angry to get angry...sometimes though i'm a little lazy...that makes me angry...but only at myself.

12. IF YOU COULD PLAY ANY INSTRUMENT, WHAT WOULD IT BE? Tabla, digeridoo, violin, guitar, and spoons, and maybe a theremin and maybe something like the andean flutes they play down here.

13. FAVORITE COLOR? i used to think blue, but now i think red.

14. WHICH DO YOU PREFER--SPORTS CAR OR SUV? neither, they both use to much gas.

15. DO YOU BELIEVE IN AFTERLIFE? hmmm...tricky question. yes, but i don't truly believe in death, and thus if i don't truly believe in death then i can't really say i truly believe in life, but i do believe in both to some degree, but i think it can be summed up in saying that i have a firm belief in existence... it is the same great puzzle, there are simply a great many pieces.

16. FAVORITE CHILDREN'S BOOK? I like the Lorax by Dr. Seuss.

17. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? Spring and Autumn.

18. WHAT'S YOUR LEAST FAVORITE HOUSEHOLD CHORE? I don't like to mop, but i love to sweep!

19. IF YOU COULD HAVE ONE SUPER POWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE? flight, or perhaps the power to manifest anything i can imagine, which would then allow me to fly. a-hah!

20. IF YOU HAVE A TATTOO, WHAT IS IT? i've a poem and a thirteen on my body.

21. CAN YOU JUGGLE? no, but my good friend jimmy can!

22. WHO IS THE ONE PERSON YOU WISH YOU COULD GO BACK IN
TIME AND TALK TO? There are too many to count.

23. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE DAY? Hmm...Well I really enjoy fridays and I really enjoy the day after halloween.

24. WHAT'S IN THE TRUNK OF YOUR CAR? a bag of paper to be recycled, a hatchet, a spare tire, and eric's tent poles.

25. WHICH DO YOU PREFER, SUSHI OR HAMBURGER? Sushi

26. BEST COMPLIMENT EVER RECEIVED? That my friend Amenities dog Astro likes me, cause he hates every boy he's ever met...i guess...

its a wacky world

2002-07-19T05:10:59Z

rather strange happenings have been in the air on the ground about the countrysides and grasses, oil slicks, aslphalt, grits and forests of pine, alder and cedar...hmm...today at work i found out that one of my friends best friends committed suicide, as did the brother of a good friend of mine's step mom. another friend of my friend got hit by a car and is in the hospital in critical condition. my poetry teachers mother just died today. and carolyne is sick from drinking too much chocolate soy milk.

some thoughts that have been on my mind of recent:

if gravity were to suddenly reverse only on one half of the planet would it act as force enough in the expulsion of all matter on half the earth to move the remaining half into a different orbital trajectory? could this possibly have any influence on mars? say the earth were to move closer to mars could this cause the red planet to fall closer to the sun. could the particles escaping our planet suddenly recondense after gravity righted itslef? would these chunks of earth then crash into the martion crust throwing up dust into the atmosphere causing the planet to warm, polar ice caps to thaw which would cause huge amounts of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere which would cause a "tolerable to good" amount of greenhouse gases which might release frozen subsurface water into the barren world once more causing, with a little help from time and luck, a world populated with life. would life begin again? would creatures arise vastly unlike ourselves. would they be called something that cannot be audibly pronounce because their "name" was an emotion which they could distend upon each other. or perhaps they had no names, perhaps they had no bodies. perhaps the planet grew into a consciousness itself. which is what i believe the earth to be. one great conscious from which inumerable consciousness have risen and will continue to arise. would the planet be its own entity with thought, without any branches of itself. would it sherk back at its inevitable exploration and possible exploitation. or will it welcome these visitations? i think it would scream the moment humanity touched its flesh, but only as long as that first touch was given with the aforethought of riches unplundered in the virgin world, or simply as a token touch of complete bewilderment and a cowboy sense of adventure bent on conquering those things unknown to it, even though always vastly similar to all things outside of itself.

these days are the darkest days of the lightest days of the year

2002-07-15T23:00:01Z

not really, the subject of this entry is only accurate in the objective sense, and since livejournal is mostly subjective explication over and over again the header should really read: these are the darkest days our world has faced in many years and it is summer in the northern hemisphere! so, i'm back at work. for all of those out there who have no idea where i work, what i work with and who...i work in a small, actually tiny, video production studio run by two cool guys. luca the twentyseven year old italian dude, and andy, my thirty eight year old video game playing boss. he spent three weeks playing this game called HALO...ooh. so i'm back at work. i've been the only person here today, and it was the same on friday. its not that bad. i don't mind being at work by myself, though it does sometimes get lonely. especially cause i usually have a pretty good time with the guys. they are fun kids. yeah, they're kids still...mostly. i saw a couple of interesting videos today. the video i'm running (dubing) right now is about an ex-vietnam fighter pilot who entered the war believing himself to be a righteous individual and realized half-way through that he was in massive and desperate err. he quit the airforce and was hospitalized by the government and forced into taking pyschiatric drugs...the airforce just thought he was "tired." later he left the united states (after the war) and went to El Salvador to be a front lines surgeon for the indigenous people who were being slaughtered by the government. he became a pacifist. he changed from a hungry ghost to a buddha awakening. it is a beautiful story.

sartre says: hell is other people. do you believe that?

iknowimadroppityhead

2002-07-12T00:44:35Z

im not going to apologize for my absence for two reasons, one: i don't know if anyone will ever read this, and two: apologies are not very necessary when it is over such wooly phenomenon as my lj page. and (i guess i'll add a third) apologies should always be sincere and right now no feelings of remorse are sweeping through my body, and, thus, any apology cast would fall far short of the bouy of tearful, heartfelt recompense. hahaha. ugh. bouys...i used to think that if i ever saw enough water in newmexico to float a bouy i'd spontaneously erupt in flames; however, after the last four days i wouldn't be suprised...the amount of rain that has fallen seems tremendous. it probably does not add up to "all" that much; nonetheless, in the desert every precious drop counts. it is monsoon season in santa fe, though, the "monsoon" typically lasts a half hour to an hour and then dithers down; nevertheless, in that maybe-hour the streets will fill with rivers, the arroyo becomes a frothing rush of mud, trees and water. i would really like to be down by the arroyo someday just before it begins to rain. i would love to be perched on a rock by the dry, dead river-bed, and then to look up at the mountains and see that a great gray haze has enveloped them. i would love to always see bolts of lightning cutting into the afternoon, interupting the calm ozone smell with an electric, nerve tingling crack of thunder. and then to hear the low rumble of water far off in the distance sliding across the ground, whipping off of rocks, thundering down in streams, gushes, trickles in some places, to converge at one point and begin its gravity fed run down the long and winding arroyo. to see the water rush around the curve, over the cement blocks placed there by humanity...alright, gotta go. continuation later...

rain

2002-06-04T00:46:45Z

saturday it rained for the first time that i can remember in two months. i am talking about rain too, not drizzle. santa fe periodically gets small teaspoon sized tempest which come through and deposit miniscule amounts of liquid. but saturday, saturday it rained. me and vogey (ryan v.) head on over to scotty's, sam's and tiana's. we spent the afternoon on the trampoline looking up at the mass of gray, smoked a light joint and watched the rain come down and the lightning eat its ways across the sky, the the lightning's shadow, thunder, bathe in our hollow heads, as we rattled and shook and clapped and joined forces with the storm. i've realized how incredibly powerful and moving it can be to rain. growing up in portland the rain, water, liquid is ever present. here in the desert it is another story entirely. i cannot even imagine how many people prayed together on saturday for it to rain. i prayed, we all prayed. and when the first drop of rain fell on my shoulder it felt as though the weight of the whole cosmos was lifted and all worries were momentarily tossed aside. oh the beauty! i cannot describe the utter relief found in something as simple as a drop of moisture. i am sure that you all know the feeling of relief i speak about, perhaps put in different terms, but there is something utterly human and vastly important in these feelings, something which I feel humanity is trying to escape and cannot. we think that we are moving away from nature, but we are, and will be forever, contained within the confines of nature. rejoice, we have no power over the weather, we are at its mercy!

build me a stupa

2002-05-31T18:13:08Z

i'd like to be involved in the building of a stupa. if anyone wants to build one with me give me a holler. p.s. does anyone out there go to the naropa school in boulder?

staying here for the summer

2002-05-13T20:20:34Z

hello. i realize that i have not updated my journal now for about a month. anway, i will probably be updating more often now that i am finally done with school and have few real responsibilities aside from my job, rent, food, etc., etc. i am rather excited to stay in the great dry heat this summer with rainstorms galore (hopefully, pray i) and three great friends in a quaint little house in the desert. i'm staying with cassidy, carolyne and kt this summer and am right down the street from michael and katie, i think, as well as Tim C....Jp. is also here this summer along with the Soft and Sam Cobean, who is, though we do not often hang out, one of the coolest cats out there. i spent my first whole day at the house yesterday, and we cooked our first real meal at the house yesterday, curry with veggies and rice and apples--quite a delight, though, we ended up being hungry later. jessica, this incredible dope girl from Dallas, is also going to be living with us for a little while and then she has to go home. egh. alright, well its a boring update, but at least it is something. i am sure that i will have more to say later. adieu.

been

2002-04-16T07:25:21Z

i don't know what's come over me. the last few days have been mildly depressed, but i think i know why. its okay though, life moves, etc. i am reading this book by Carl Jung title Four Archetypes. i've never read any Jung before, and i must say that it is completely fascinating. anyway, i'm learning, learning, learning all the time.

i went to this ridiculous party at this crazy pizza place over the weekend. carolyne was also there, as well as many, many other kids from my school. there was a lot of wine, beer, a few kids on the shroomies, and strange and unnerving discomfort. it seems to me that the more i go to parties, and or large "social gatherings", the more i feel displaced and very different. i understand that i am different. and it's not just at parties, i feel displaced in general, slightly off from whatever it is that i sometimes feel i am supposed to be aligned with. and then again i know that i will never fit into some type of sterile, social mold and i really would rather be exactly who i am. i will bend and sway, but i will not be transfigured in the name of something not myself and unreal. and yet, sometimes there is unbearable pressure, anxiety and worries. why?

it is all in the name of love and left. hmmm.