Mosaic of Baumbach!

Noah Baumbach. We've seen three of his movies - "The Squid and the Whale," "Frances Ha," and "Margot at the Wedding." We've enjoyed every one of them. Last night we watched "Margot at the Wedding." It has been described as a tragicomedy. I would think it's pretty impossible to describe any of Baumbach's movies. They are human, oh so human: messy, funny, ridiculous. There is intelligence, and belligerence, and insight and stupidity. All mixed up together. Contradictory. Did I say messy? Yes, gloriously messy. Probably not for everyone. I mean, definitely not for everyone, which is a good thing. Recommended. Highly. You might laugh, you might cry, you might be annoyed. It's all part of the messy, beautifully-realized mosaic.

Political Crystal Ball

I don't often root for the favorite. Usually I love an underdog. So how can I make the favorite appealing? Kind of make her an underdog for whom I can root!

Hillary Clinton declared she is running for President... 

She would be the first woman American President. Pretty historic. I voted against her the first time she ran. I ended up on the Obama bandwagon. And I do think he's been the best President I can remember in my lifetime.

Not that everything is peachy keen, just that he's been intelligent, and resilient, and progressive, and even if he doesn't win all the battles, at least he is battling.

Hillary will be the favorite. No matter who her opponent is. I will vote for her. I have high hopes for her, and for us.  I cannot imagine living under another Republican President. That party is just over-stuffed with backward-looking hacks and malicious clowns.

So Hillary, yes! Run. You must! And win. You must! Will it all be peaches and cream? Probably not. It's always a battle, a fight, a contest. And messy. But that's just the way it goes...

Holiness and Fascination

Dwight Garner's review of "One of Us," makes me want to read the book, but then, the subject is so horrendous, a killing rampage in Norway, that I kind of doubt I will.

But the last line of the review really resonated in my head...

"If it is true, as Stephen Jay Gould contended, that 'nothing matches the holiness and fascination of accurate and intricate detail,' then Ms. Seirestad has delivered a holy volume indeed."

It's a Long List

Yes, this info from Vox seems essential and important:

"Filming the police takes bravery. Releasing the video takes even more."

Bystander videos have played a big part in our culture. I was thinking about Rodney King being beaten and Tasered by a circle of Cops in the 90's. Funny how all of those Cops walked. And remember that's why all those folks rioted! Just like the Cop in Long Island who choke-holded Eric Garner.

So having the video doesn't mean justice, but it can show us the truth. And the truth of it seems to be that lots of folks are being man-handled and murdered, often, maybe lots more often than we realized. And sometimes other folks pick up their cell phones and capture the event.

Yes, Cops have a very difficult job. You can sympathize with them. Up to a point. But at the same time, you realize lots of these Cops act as if they are above the law. It's the Dirty Harry mind-set. So yes, people have to figure how to take these videos and post them on-line, or get them to the media.  It's really, really important.

Unfortunately you can add the Police to the list of institutions you cannot trust. It's a long list.

Protection from the Protectors

Some of us need to be protected from the protectors. Cops have a tough job. No doubt. But there seems to be a pattern. White Cops shooting down Black Suspects. How often does this happen? We don't really know. Turns out Police Departments don't have to track how many times Cops shoot civilians. It's not counted! You'd think that might be a good thing to know.

The latest shooting of Walter Scott in South Carolina was pretty disturbing. A man running away from a Cop gets shot 8 times in the back, and falls down dead.  The Cop lied on his police report - said he was threatened and in fear. And you wonder how often that happens. Without the video those who tend to believe the Cop would have probably believed the Cop, and those who tend to believe the victim was probably victimized, would probably have believed the victim was victimized.

Usually we all fall back on our own prejudices.

So glad the Kid took the video on his cell phone, and then turned it over to the victim's family. He almost didn't. He feared for his life, he thought of erasing the video. He did not want to be harassed by the Cops. He is a hero!

Turns out there are new apps for your cell phone to make filming police events even easier. So yes, I guess this is a growing market. And certainly a good use for your cell phone.  Protection from the Protectors.

Hot Air Empire!

Josh Marshall... talks Rand & Cruz, Republican contenders for President. He calls them "media creations." Part of the Tinfoil Hat Brigade. I think he's right. These are not serious people, even if they have serious jobs. They are kooks. And they generate lots of attention via the media. There is a whole industry of the hall of mirrors media making personalities and events that really only reflect the heat of an overheated media reflecting back on itself. Cable TV is a small "box of Babel," example, the worst of the worst of this phenomena, but it leaks all over our culture. And of course, it's not just politics, this media hype phenomena cuts across everything... politics, music, news, social platforms. The more ridiculous, and unserious, and kooky, the more attention. There are whole industries, and empires created by this total hype approach. We all swim in it. It's part of the air we breathe... cluttered, over-heated-air, nebulous, ridiculous, time-wasting... we pretend to be amused, but it slimes us, and diminishes us...

We Can All Be Put in Boxes!

Yes, it's true, the true-blue Libertarians among us are few and far between. I've met a few. And they seem wild-eyed, and unserious in their seriousness.  Sort of like a Scientologist. Bring up the Environment, or Social Security, or Universal Healthcare and they are pretty much tongue-tied. Or somehow magically our joint "liberty" will solve all issues.

Maybe the rich people will take care of everything for us? Doesn't seem like much of a plan.

I do think Paul Krugman's little post is brilliant. Rand Paul is the empty box! Can our politics and the great divide between us be explained by this simple chart? I say yes. And put me in the "Socially Liberal," x "Social Insurance" boxes... that would = "Liberal!"

Health is a Battle!

Yes, the canine influenza is rampant in Chicago. I have seen this thing in action, first hand. A happy little doggie, running, jumping, full of energy and life, brought totally low by the bug. I watched it all happen over the weekend. And it seemed to overtake the dog in a matter of a few hours. By the end of the day Sunday this dog was wheezing, retching, struggling to breathe. He could just barely drag his sorry ass around from place to place. My friend and I were convinced the dog had been poisoned, but the Vet diagnosed influenza. You must marvel at the power of biology. And sickness. And disease. A body is invaded and the whole character of a being is completely re-engineered. Poor little guy. They gave him antibiotics and re-hydrated him. Everyone is rooting for his immune system to do it's work. Health is a battle!

The Philosophy of Me

Dark thoughts & thrashings.  That's also sometimes called a good sleep. Yeah, not really. It's hard when even your sleep is filled with disappointments, odd doings, strange phenomena. You have a big speech to give to a very large, expectant crowd. You are just to step up to the microphone, and you realize, you have no idea what you are going to say. You decide you will improvise. You turn to a friend to ask her for some last minute advice, and she says: "I believe in the Philosophy of Me." You get to the microphone, smile at the crowd, open your mouth to speak, and the alarm clock rings. You shoot out of bed like you were shot out of a cannon. Not sure if you are happy or disappointed. You wonder what you were going to say.

A New Door!

Witnessing that little dog fight a couple days ago was a real clearing for me. I was so close to the violence, to the raw fear. In one flash, I was gripped in a panic. And I was helpless. This was just a little episode, not so serious, but it briefly cut me to the core.  I think I got a small glimpse of what some folks experience when something really, really traumatic occurs. I mean those disturbing events that happen all the time. 

It's almost like I got a glimpse of another reality that exists beneath everything that we know and experience. And then oddly this opened me up. I ended up strangely refreshed. There is a certain place where we are definitively and completely helpless. I guess we have to take that in too.  One moment everything seems fine, beautiful, and then something shifts, and it all falls away.

I realized it's not often that an irrational fear descends upon me, not often when have I been gripped by total panic.  It enveloped me, and then, it all evaporated. It was gone, and I could think about it and file it away, but it certainly opened a new door I didn't know was there.

Thanks to the Peacemakers

I am one of those who think John Kerry and Barack Obama should be praised for conducting negotiations with Iran. You know the deal to slow Iran's development of nukes. Dread enemies sitting in hotel room, writing terms on a whiteboard, working to make a deal. Or as the NYTimes puts it: "A deal built on Coffee, All-Nighters and Compromise." It's not pretty, it's not sexy or exciting. And it's easy to pick apart. And it seems as soon as a tentative framework was announced, all the critics came out to take shots at it. It's so easy to sit back and criticize.

It is so rare to see great powers try to work it out in a room. Diplomats. They kind of get a bum rap. If you negotiate, you also compromise.  And well, in most political circles, compromising is considered weak. But of course, it's not. To talk, to engage in the give and take, is the smart, intelligent way to navigate a very dangerous, crazy world. So often the answer is to take up arms. Madness...

As they say, it's just a framework for an agreement, not a complete deal yet, but a pretty extraordinary development.  Thanks to the peacemakers - Kerry & Obama!

Oh yeah, then there are the malicious idiots on the conservative right, who always, always talk war!

The Dope in the Middle

Thursday morning. A mild day. 

The killing floor. A kitchen. A simple, sort of shabby kitchen. The killer - a young, male, 150 pound Tibetan Mastiff. The victim - an older, female, 150 pound, relatively quiet and gentle Tibetan Mastiff.

The "Dope in the Middle." That would be me. "The Caretaker." I was to walk the young male, a powerful, sort of scary being. I have always been a little leery of this one. He is so big, so strong, I realized early on, when I first met him, I couldn't really handle him. I was always so careful to keep him away from other dogs, other people.

The female, his "companion," happened to be in the kitchen as I led the male out the door. And then something "snapped." The male pounced on the female. The male went after the female hard. There were horrible screams of malevolence and terror. From me and the dogs. Two large thrashing dogs sprawled out on the kitchen floor. There were sounds of violence and terror. Fur flying. One dog had it's jaws and large teeth sunk deeply into the neck of the other. It looked like he was trying to snap her neck.

There was blood, some of it spattered on my jeans. I panicked. I was helpless. I tried to pull one dog off the other. And even while I was doing it, I was thinking, "This is stupid. I could get mauled." It seemed like a killing; that one dog would not relent until the other was dead. Maybe I was seeing clearly, maybe I wasn't. My body was full of adrenaline, I was shaking, I was full of fear, and a deep dread, and total powerlessness.

I was convinced I was witnessing a killing. I actually tried to get between these two dogs. Between the bared teeth, the massive, thrashing bodies. After about 5 minutes of this mayhem, I somehow I pulled the aggressor off the other one, and pushed the female into a small adjoining bedroom. I hustled the male back into his crate. The female was breathing heavy, looking at me with intensely sad eyes. At least that was my read.

She seemed ok. Maybe her thick fur saved her from damage. I called the owner, left a shaky voice message. And then left. I must admit I was shaken down to the core of my being. Deeply shaken. I had a feeling of deep doom all day. It was a disturbing, existential kind of dread. It was simply a dog fight. No one died, a bit of blood was spilled. I had no nicks or bruises. But I had been totally helpless, and scared, and powerless in the face of what looked to be a vicious, unbridled attack.

Fear. Raw fear, my body was awash in it, and there was nothing to do but shake in it's grip...

Getting Weirder... Do the Opposite!

I don't know this guy, Steve Coast, from Adam. But I like his blog post, "The World Will Only Get Weirder."  I think he's right. Now I'm not sure if he's one of those radical libertarians who is against all regulation, which seems ridiculous to me, but I do think that regulations only go so far, and sometimes they can become a problem too, and solving one problem can lead to other, unforeseen problems. You know, unintended consequences. And yes, weirder, things will get weirder.  It's a good bet. 

I also like his "Contrarian" post... if everyone is watching TV. Trash your TV. If everyone is drinking beer and eating pizza, don't drink beer and eat pizza! Do the opposite! Yes, that sounds like a great way to live an interesting life. Contrarian! But Contrarians please don't bother to unite.  As a Contrarian you would then have to be Contrarian to the other Contrarians!

One Man's Freedom to Discriminate...

Yes, I agree with Josh Marshall. This Religious Freedom vs. Discrimination against the LGBT community is a big deal. The ground has shifted. Conservatives have painted themselves into a corner, and the business community and broad social community has lit a social media fire that can't be easily put out.

Something just didn't smell right to me. Mike Pence, the Governor of Indiana just looked and sounded like a guy who was trying to lie his way out of a bad situation. Everything he said in his little press conference seemed like a pile of untruths.

When conservatives say "religious freedom," they really mean, the right to discriminate any way they see fit, using religion as the excuse. It was sort of funny and painful to watch the Hoosier Governor try to weasel his way out of that one.

Now he's saying the law doesn't discriminate against any one, or that they will fix it to make that clear.  Looks like a major win for the LGBT community and all of us who are for equal rights and non-discrimination! Bingo!

UPDATE: Contrary to what he says now, Vox documents how Indiana Governor Mike Pence has always been in favor of discriminating against the LGBT community!

I Like Intelligent Bands!

I like it when bands I like appear to be intelligent people, who like to do the good work. And I like when bands I like are politically aware and promote equal rights and non-discrimination. So yes, I like that Wilco canceled a show in Indianapolis to protest a new "Religious Freedom Law" which really seems like  "Thinly Disguised Legal Discrimination."

Unexpectedly Satisfying!

Henry Rollins, when he was singing with the Rollins Group, had a song, don't remember the title, but the chorus or main verse was something like: "Sometimes things don't work out... sometimes happens all the time."

It became one of our inside jokes around here. Funny, but oh so true. Conversely, sometimes things do work out. Much better than you could imagine. Such was the case yesterday. 

whitewolfsonicprincess hosted a Sunday afternoon "variety show," at the Red Line Tap. It was all my own idea, and I guess the big question was, "Will folks come out on a Sunday afternoon to hear and see music, standup comedy and go-go dancers?"

The answer was/is a resounding "Yes!" We ended up with a great little crowd. It was all so cool, and chill and fun. Surprising. Unexpected. Almost feels totally satisfying. Sometimes things do work out!

The Whole Thing...

Yes. It's scary. Being a Human Being. And there's really only one good strategy. To embrace it. Embrace it all. Sounds simple, maybe simple-minded. But that's OK. If we embrace, and accept, and let it all come down, we open, expand, learn, grow.

Resistance is futile. And takes too much energy. And makes us stiff, brittle, hard, and small-minded. We stop growing. And coil up. 

So the embracing is not weakness, although, maybe we think it is, it's actually strength in action. But it's fluid, and easy, and we think passive. But an active, engaged embracing is not passive. It's the whole thing.

There's a Human Being...

People. Human Beings. They are a mystery. Being one of them doesn't really help. Studying Freud and Jung helps a bit. We are complicated messes. A whirlpool of thoughts, feelings, emotions. We wear masks of irrationality, masks of rationality.

We can do amazing, beautiful things. We can do horrific, unimaginable things. We usually save the best and worst for each other.

"Every normal person, in fact, is only normal on the average. His ego approximates to that of the psychotic in some part or other and to a greater or lesser extent." - S. Freud

Yesterday I was at the lakefront, the wind was whipping across the water at a furious velocity, the waves were crashing into the shore with a wild, madness, there was an endless parade of white frothy waves pounding the shore. There was a roar, an overwhelming roar coming from the lake.

And on the shore a woman, in her middle years, was shouting back at the wind. She was either hopping mad, literally, she was hopping with fury, or she was exuberant, thrilled, over-joyed with some secret win. It was impossible to tell if it was fury or joy. Words tumbled from her lips in a torrent. It was impossible to understand what she was saying. She roared, brayed, shouted, jumped up and down, little, ridiculous, jumps, like a little pop-up doll.

She was so preoccupied, in her little world, she didn't notice me walk past.  I just thought, "There's a human being..."

Result of the Battle!

Does it take more energy to be positive, than it is to be negative? I don't know. I Googled that question this morning and came across Tiny Buddha, who tells me that the original Buddha said: "The mind is everything. What we think we become."

Is that true? I don't know. Who am I to disagree with the Buddha? Some times I feel my mind is like a battlefield. There are the positive thoughts and the negative thoughts and they battle it out. The battle itself is sort of tiring and defining. I suppose I am the result of the battle.

Powers of Recovery!

Our "powers of recovery," are amazing. Knock us down, we can get back up. Expend lots of energy, somehow, it all comes flooding back. You wonder where it comes from. And you wonder if this power will always work. You know, you find yourself in a deficit of energy, but you recover, again and again, until one day you don't.

There are limits. You won't grow back a severed limb. Lose a finger, it's gone. Still, it's true, just like that old watch, we can "take a licking and keep on ticking." It's a power! Recovery!

Love the Struggle?!

You gotta love the struggle. Right? If you love the struggle, you have it made. You can expect the struggle, and meet it head on. And then you struggle. And then, well, it works out one way or another. And then there's the next struggle. And you meet that one too.

I suppose this is a little bit of that Vince Lombardi ethic... or maybe it's a variation of the Buddhist "life is suffering" thing. To love suffering sounds pretty masochistic, but I think you can trick yourself to love the struggle. You know, no pain, no gain.

I mean, don't look to struggle, that would be a negative way to look at life, but don't be surprised if the struggle finds you. And then engage, and do your best.

A Rotten Movie!

A snowstorm yesterday. I slogged. All day. It was Biblical. Epic. Like one of those Cecil B. Demille flicks. I was being challenged by all the dark elemental forces Cecil could conjure. I mean, it was a rotten movie. And I was Charles Heston, raging against the wind. I spent much of the day just trying not to fall off my bike, yes, I was riding a bike to get to places I had to go. I was being paid to get to these places, and to do things I was supposed to do. Not a lot of money was dispensed to me to do these tasks. It seemed like a dark joke, right? 

And there were a few close calls. How close? I don't know. But, for instance, I'm riding a bike down an icy, snowy street, the cold pavement is rolling below my boots, and I hit a patch of ice, my front tire goes into a scary wobble, and there's a automobile bearing down on me on my left shoulder. I didn't fall, but there was that moment, probably a micro-second, where falling seemed like a distinct possibility. Did some smiling, bored God just flip a coin? And then what? Who knows. But falling in front of a moving car, isn't something I was up for giving a try. Anyway, I straightened out, got to where I was going, and made it back home safe and sound too. By night fall, the streets were pretty clear. There was a shining slice of a silver moon staring down at me. The little village was so quiet. I wondered, do people live here? Where are they all? What do they do? How do they make it? 

Every Help... Or Not!

I was in this room, and on the wall was a coat of arms and the motto: "For the Brave and the Faithful nothing is difficult."

That seemed a little too breezy for me. I mean to be brave, you probably need to be a little naive, innocent, or a little stupid, and faithful? I suppose it's pretty damn important to know just what you intend to be faithful to...

But this got me thinking about coat of arms and family mottos...

You can trace one side of my family history to the O'Connor clan in Ireland. I don't have lots of Irish blood in me, but the little I do have, was very much celebrated in my family. So this morning I'm swimming back, looking at the history of the O'Connors.

Their motto? "From God every help." Now if you have your doubts about God, this really has a nice resonance...

And when I say, "nice resonance" I mean, some folks say we are made in God's image, so the reverse is true too, right? God looks just like us? Now, what I think that means is that there is actually a multiplicity, a universe of Gods, and they all work at cross purposes.

So there is the God of Love, but there's also the God of Hate and they spend lots of time duking it out. We are the pieces on the chessboard. God of laughter, God of Tears. God of Good Luck, and God Bad Luck. Some Gods are hard-working and diligent, some are fat and lazy, and barely phone it in. Sometimes they make accommodations with each other... "Okay gimme 10 inoperable cancers, and I'll give you one Super Powerball Winner."

Some Gods are fuckups and losers, some are overachievers. Really, doesn't this explain it all quite nicely?

Appearances Deceive

The mighty do fall. One minute you live in a mansion on the lakefront, the sound of waves lulling you to sleep, the next minute you're holed up in a shack, behind someone's dilapidated house. The floor of your shack is on a slant. If you had a bowling ball it would roll from one end of the room to the other. There's a funky smell in the place, sort of a weird, burned, chemical smell.

You would never have guessed you'd find this guy, in this place. Alone with a dog. Everything looks a little harder, more frayed, less clean. The light is a little brighter around here, everything is a little more washed out, less vivid. More real, but less substantial.

You used to sort of envy this guy, maybe looked up to him a bit, he seemed to have it all; beautiful wife, nice car, big, imposing house. Everyone seemed happy. Satisfied. Established. When you tell the guy you are surprised to see him in his new digs, that his "breakup" seems most improbable, he explains it all with two words: "Appearances deceive."

Yes. They do.

We Should All Go to Rehab!

I am still swimming in the middle of David Carr's "Night of the Gun."  It is amazing, and a little daunting to behold how much degradation one human being is willing to endure to pursue an addiction. There are many levels of degradation. Sort of like Dante's levels of hell.

There are some events that I can relate to, some of the mindless craziness. I think back on some of my risky, crazy days, but my risky and crazy is really many levels up from the abyss that Carr explores and sinks into. By the end of his years of hell, he is shooting cocaine with a determined relish.

Carr was in and out of rehab 5 times. Finally the 5th time stuck. What's kind of interesting, a lot of what Carr writes about in rehab reminds me of scenes from David Foster Wallace's "Infinite Jest." Even some of the characters sketched by Carr resemble characters sketched by Wallace. Maybe there is a sameness about rehab that every one experiences?

And just like in Foster's book, I kind of get the idea from Carr that maybe we all should be in rehab. We are all addicts of one thing or another. And we do need those simple, AA aphorisms that people make fun of, but then base their new lives of sobriety on...

One Day at A Time.
Nothing is Fair
It Is What It Is

Okay Maybe Just Taxes!

If you've tracked along with my "thought-stream" lately, you know that I have been kind of reeling from the illusory, ephemeral nature of our existence, and how the certainties of life sort of vanish upon reflection and concentrated intention.

But, as they like to say, there's always death and taxes. And then well, yesterday, I almost whooped with joy when I came across this notice about Alan Moore's forthcoming novel "Jerusalem."

Moore tells us his novel will explore the space-time continuum and "disprove the existence of death." So I guess we are just left with taxes! After a while wiping away certainties becomes pretty much exhilarating!

Essential Memoirs

Memoirs. I have been reading some really good ones. I mean the great ones. Two of Mary Karr's books, "The Liars Club," and "Cherry," and right now I'm in the middle of David Carr's "The Night of the Gun."

Both writers really delve into the craziness of being human. And all the wreckage of a life. Addiction, madness - being human. All the ways human beings debauch and try to muddle through a life. These books all have lots of humor, insight, and horror. They also are sort of "redemption" stories, they are written by people who emerged from the wreckage of too much of everything, and lived to tell the tale. 

Just living and telling the tale seems like a victory. David Carr also spends lots of time, reporting on his own past life, like it's just another story he must research, and he finds that his own memory is quite fallible. There are stories, the stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves, and then there is what happened, and the stories and the "what happened" might not really be the same thing at all.

These are great books. Essential books. Mary Karr is a poet. David Carr is a gifted writer & journalist. You will be  amazed, you will be horrified. You will be enlightened. You will reflect on your own life too. I have been sent into my own hall of mirrors, recalling events from my life. What really happened? Did that really happen the way I recall it? There is a tale to be told...

Crappy Lessons!

Yes, that's a lesson too. Sometimes the "bad guys," win. You see folks who really go out of their way to harm others, who can justify any inequity, who never admit they are at fault; you see those folks cruise along, happy as pigs in shit, with all the perks of a successful life. It's doesn't seem right. But it's part of the world, part of the fabric of our lives. We have to learn to live with that kind of thing too. It's another one of those crappy lessons included with all the others lessons we learn, whether we want to or not.

The Muddle!

The longer I live, the longer I think about my life, (and the lives of those around me), the fewer prejudices and/or preconceptions I seem to carry with me. They are all demolished by my experience of life. The things I thought I knew or understood, I no longer do. The certainties I was hoping to base a life on, seem to vanish before my eyes. All it takes is a little concentrated attention, and I begin to realize that what I thought of as certain, is actually pretty fungible. Oh yeah, there's death, there's always death, but that kind of blows a hole in everything else.

Do we read the world as one grand metaphor? Or a mountain, or endless river of metaphors? Is everything actually a sign or symbol of something else?

Or do we read the world literally? Is everything exactly and only what it is? Are there no signs, no symbols? Only the literal reading of a life of stuff?

Or do we read it all metaphorically and literally? Or is the answer "none of the above?"

That's the kind of muddle that whirls around in my head...

A Vanishing Dot - That's Our Existence!

Yes, "Ghost in the Machine" isn't only a really good Police album. It's a phrase that was coined by philosopher Gilbert Ryle. Good old Gilbert takes on body/mind dualism. He tells us that mind is a ghost, invisible, lurking in the machinery, rising from the machinery, not different than the machinery. 

The more you look, the more you see that you don't know what is what. Memory, self, consciousness, mind, even, as Cecil Adams explains it, "the present," is sort of a chimerical creature.

We are told that we should "live in the present," but it turns out it doesn't really exist. It's a dot, a vanishing dot. You can't really live there at all! It's getting pretty lonely around here. Just what illusions can we cling to?

A Thinking, Feeling, Empathetic Machine!

I tune into the radio early this morning, brewing coffee, getting ready for the day, and a Scientist is on the waves telling me that I'm just a "mechanism." A collection of moving parts, a machine, an organism made up of little machines.

I am a thinking and feeling machine. Even if my thoughts and feelings are sort of illusory. I choose to let those thoughts and feelings guide me, lead me through a life. This might just be a sort of shell game, where I fool myself. But it's a game that I have chosen to play.

Isn't that how it goes? We decide to play like a good machine. A machine that has empathy for others, that follows the golden rule, that tries to love. Because it's a choice doesn't make anything less real, but maybe more real.

I am the kind of mechanism that chooses to pretend I'm not really a mechanism. A machine that lives, and laughs and cries and has empathy for the other beings on the planet. A machine that tries to live up to being a fully formed, human being, even if that is a sort of fiction.

The Messy Moment

Yes, it's a messy world. We might pretend that it's more ordered, rational and logical than it is, because that's a bit more reassuring, but really it's all so messy, and we are messy too. We reflect the world we live in, we are the mirrors of the messiness.

So, yes, disordered, irrational, illogical. These too reflect our world, and our understanding of it. Sometimes you can't even trust yourself, your memories, your grand narrative. Lots of this is made up in the moment, we re-imagine the past, we conjure up a future, but these imaginings and conjurings can disappear in the blink of an eye.

We are left with the moment. The messy moment. And we try to figure out just what that moment is, and what it means. But it gets messy.

Positive/Negative - You Choose!

I could go into specifics to kind of illustrate my point, but let me instead talk in generalities to kind of make a broader point.

Have you ever had something go wrong? Really wrong? Or have something happen to you that you just knew was bad, that seemed to be a terrible step back, or a really unfortunate occurrence? 

And then, it turns out, it was really a fortunate event? That what you thought was so wrong or bad, now seems so right or good?

Now maybe it's just a trick of the mind, a lie of consciousness, where we can turn that lemon into lemonades, or maybe anything that happens is then hard to tell whether it's good or bad, or maybe nothing is good or bad, it just is, and then we must deal with it.

We judge a situation, or event, before the actual ramifications become clear. Is this just all rationalization? Is it just a test of our character, the flexibility of our minds, to navigate the world?

I don't know. I do know that certain events have recently happened to me that seemed to be really negative, and then well, all the ramifications as time rolled out turned out to be quite positive. So the initial event, was it a negative or positive occurrence? 

I guess we get to decide. And maybe we have a lifetime to decide. 

I Love Living in Klosterman World!

I love living in Klosterman world. The world according to Chuck. It's a pretty cool place. He is a self-described "contrarian." He will explain how David Koresh and Kurt Cobain are similar, and how Cobain really is the leading figure in "guilt rock," he will tell you how ABBA is beyond irrelevant/relevant, he will show you how the NFL is both super-conservative and super-liberal, he will examine the intricacies and difficulties of time-travel, he will review the cinematic and novelistic depictions of life on the road, he will explain how the Unabomber is yes, a mad, crazy, murderer, but at the same time might be right about how technology enslaves us. Chuck is funny, surprising, brilliant, convincing, and yes, enlightening too. I love living in Klosterman world! 

The Task!

You get obsessed with a task. And you worry over it. You're like a little monkey. You dream about it. You fantasize. You drive yourself crazy over this little task. You become your own little taskmaster, and it's all you can think about. The world narrows down to one little point, one little task. It's all you can do. Your head and body is flooded with a desire to get to the task. It's kind of a madness, certainly pretty absurd. But you can't help yourself. You are stuck on the task!

UPDATE: And what was the task with which I was obsessed? I have a Tubescreamer guitar effects pedal, it was noisy and not working correctly, so I opened it up and started re-soldering, and re-soldering, and re-soldering. What started out as a device with one problem ended up as a device with many, many, many problems. I became totally obsessed with trying to repair the thing, and basically destroyed it. I should have given it to a monkey. He might have had a better chance of fixing the thing. I ended up trashing it! I am now in the market for a new guitar effects pedal. Some obsessions are not worth pursuing!

Weather - Do We Need to Discuss It?

I'm writing about the weather again. I mean, on the one hand, I think, the weather just is, do we really need to discuss it? Still as a species we spend lots of time thinking about, and talking about, the weather. We spend lots of time, and use lots of our technological ability trying to "predict," the weather. We even have a 24 hour TV channel devoted to the weather. So yes, we are obsessed with the weather, for good reason, or no.

Yesterday was a unique day around these parts. The day actually caressed us. I mean, there was a little taste of Spring in the air. After a long, brutal Winter. I'm not foolish enough to think that Winter is through with us, but there was this glimmer of a new reality.

So yes, instead of being slapped around, instead of being kicked in the shins, instead of being burned by the face-freezing chill, instead of the burden of trying to bear up under the hostile elements, the day seemed to embrace us with a warm and friendly hand.

We were hugged by the day. Kissed, caressed, welcomed. So weird. Could it be true?

Not Everyone has the Eye

Yes, as my photography teacher once said, "the camera always lies." It can tell beautiful white lies, or it can tell dastardly black lies. It can paint a pretty picture or bring out the ugliness.

Capturing a moment, freezing it in place - right there is a major falsity. Life doesn't stop. Moments don't freeze.

Everyone has a smartphone nowadays. Every smartphone is also a camera. Everyone with a camera thinks they are a photographer. And that's a lie too. Or maybe not a lie exactly. Some people can take great photos any time, any place. They have a "good eye." They notice details and include them, or exclude them, they frame a shot, they select.

Others really are clueless. What is the opposite of having a good eye? Not having a clue. Not knowing what makes a good photo, and what really doesn't. Just clicking and shooting. It's not enough. And just because you take a photo doesn't mean you need to show it, share it. Really.

Lost Hours!

One night you are out late, and then, up early. You are short a few hours of sleep. The next night, you are early to bed, late to get up. Not sure if you ever "catch up," but you hope you may have recovered some of those lost hours. 

You awake with three questions...

1. What time is it?
2. What day is it?
3. What is my name?

That One Lesson

There is that one lesson that you learn again and again, and if you "learn" the same thing over and over, did you really learn anything?

Nothing really turns out the way you think it will. I mean it. Nothing. If you think about an upcoming event, or the next evening, or what you're going to do tomorrow, or how it's all going to work out, well, guess what? You are wrong. Almost always.

And if you aren't wrong, you never quite get it, you never get the nuance of the situation. You never really predict all the variables, and how you will experience it all. The experience is always more foreign, deeper, richer and surprising than you think it will be.

You'd think this would teach you to not expect, anticipate, figure on anything. But that seems stupid in a way. So you want to be the smart guy and you decide you know what to expect, but really that is the height of stupidity, a badge of not knowing anything.

Evolving, Growing, Morphing

I wrote this r&r diary entry yesterday about how a band should always be moving forward, evolving, growing, morphing.

Is it true? I think so. You want your r&r bands to be adventurous, to try different things. There are exceptions. Some bands are just good at one thing. No need to alter the formula. I think of The Ramones as example one.

But I think the creative impulse leads to experimentation. Or at least if you are open and true to the impulse. Keep it real. Keep it live. Keep it moving.

A Reality to Experience!

I'm reading a Chuck Klosterman book now. You know, the one where he examines how David Koresh of the Branch Davidians cult that burned up at Waco, Texas was really very similar to Kurt Cobain of Nirvana? Both messianic leaders who cultivated a loyal following.  Leading to blackness.

Klosterman quotes Frank Herbert from Herbert's novel "Dune." I never read the book, could barely watch David Lynch's big-budget, really crummy,  and barely-watchable movie of it.  But I came across this great quote from Herbert, via Klosterman...

"The mystery of life isn't a problem to be solved, but a reality to experience." F. Herbert

Connoisseur of Cold!

If you are from the Midwest, you are known for consuming large, robust, over-stuffed plates of food. Eating big is a strength, a sign of optimism and power. Packing layers of fat on your skeletal frame is considered a good, practical idea. It's smart.

Why? Winter. 

If you are from the Midwest winter looms over you. Winter is something you tackle, take on, endure. It's a contest. A battle of wills. There's Mother Nature; big, threatening, overwhelming, all-consuming Mother Nature. And then there's you. Fat little you.

You become a connoisseur of cold. Maybe unlike the Eskimos you don't have 50 or more words for snow. Snow is snow. But you do have an intimate understanding of cold, and there are many, many kinds of cold.

Bone-chilling. Face-freezing. Biting. Bitter. Sloshy. Damp. Wet. Brutal. Icy. Dry. Freeze-dried. White. Grey. Cold that cuts. Cold that numbs. Cold that brings you to your knees. Cold that clutches your mind.

All you can think and feel is cold. It's all pervasive. All -invasive. All knowing and seeing. Cold.

How Much Realness Can You Bear?

Existential despair. Yes that's so old world. Too French. It might have once been cool. But now it seems sort of silly, lumbering, slobbery. Not so much intellectual, as self-indulgent.

And movies with tragic endings? Used to love them, sort of wallowed in the angst and sadness, and marveled at how real world and "true to life" they seemed. Now watching those kind of movies seem like hitting yourself with a tasseled rope. Aimless, pointless. Not necessary. 

The real gets a little too real. And how much real-ness can you bear? You have to celebrate the little victories. If you are waiting to only celebrate the major wins, well, the waiting and the waiting, and the waiting is the hardest part.

And there are the simple pleasures. Those are the treasures of our lives. A good meal, a great cup of coffee, a new record that you really love. Playing music in a band. The sunlight reflecting off the lake. A bright day. A day of no major pain. Victories.

And self-deception. A little healthy self-deception. Might not actually be an evasion of the truth, just a necessary survival technique.

Lord Litter's Magic Music Box International! Cool Club!

In case you missed it, here's is Lord Litter's Magic Music Box International radio show that features a whitewolfsonicprincess song. I have listened to a couple of shows, and Lord Litter really loves to find unique, off the beaten track music. Love his show! So happy to be included in the club! It's a club made up of those who aren't trying to be in any one else's club! You get the unique perspective of a very adventurous, and intelligent musical sensibility. Lord Litter plays what he wants, when he wants. That's a rare good thing.

And what does Lord Litter say about us? Lord Litter: "Quite a unique sound, pretty difficult to put somewhere… so let's just call it whitewolfsonicprincess!"

Knocking on the Door!

Death is always knocking on your door. Always. Since the beginning. There was that "special needs" neighborhood kid that died young. It was a major knock on the door. All those pets who came and went. Speedy your little pet turtle floating around in the bird-bath, lifeless, waiting for a bird to steal his carcass away for a meal. That was a hard little knock.

Over the years, all the great and small. The big-time ones, the little common ones. All knocks on the door. Rap, rap, rap!

Lately the knocks come harder and more often. Or at least that is how it seems. No way to tune out the knocking. It's like another heartbeat that matches my own heartbeat. Kind of a shadow heart beat that follows me. Where ever I go.

Okay, I get it, the knock is music too. The knock of death. Always rapping. One of those raps is made just for me.  Yes, true. Hope to keep it on the other side of the door for a little while...

The Thrasher Takes Spock!

Spock dies. And you realize, if you are one of those who have come of age in the shadow of the birth of  1960's Pop Culture, this kind of thing will happen again and again. The Thrasher spares no one. And there really is a generational thing that happens. 

So all those 60's people you looked up to, their due dates are coming up. It's happening now. It's inevitable. Not "death by misadventure," that was sort of the romantic r&r thing. Too much sex, drugs, r&r.  Many were cut down early, and entered the pantheon.

The Trasher is different. Time catches up to everyone.  No one gets out alive. And the icons, the personalities, the talent, those artists and actors and writers and directors that helped make the 60's and 70's seem different, more exciting, more creative, more edgy, are falling, will fall. You can see it happen day by day.

The Thrasher… Neil Young wrote about it… 

When the Thrasher comes

I'll be stuck in the sun

like the dinosaurs in shrines

But I'll know the time has come

To give what's mine.

"Intelligent, Renegade Ears!"

Yes, our band, whitewolfsonicprincess is still trying to be heard in the middle of the noise machine. Not an easy thing at all. There are some "intelligent, renegade ears," out there, folks looking for new music, not bowled over by PR, or $, or the thing that everyone else is chasing.

A DJ/Musician called Lord Litter discovered our CD, 10+1 and he has added some tracks to upcoming radio shows. Lord Litter is based in Berlin, Germany, he specializes in under the radar, "underground," music, he says he likes to find and play the undiscovered gems.  We are so honored and lucky to be featured on "Lord Litter's Magic Music Box," KWTF out of Bodega Bay, CA. Our track "Black Black Wings" will be played tonight (Friday, Feb. 27) on the show 6:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m. PST

And the Lord promises he will feature additional songs from our CD on additional playlists in the future too. He has called our music "timeless!" This is quite the thing, yes, it is...

Best to Find a Healer!

So you have a bad back. You don't go to a "regular" doctor. You have no faith in that profession. Instead, you submit yourself to your local acupuncturist. She is a healer.

She treats your body like it's a pincushion. But no needles actually go into your back, instead, there are needles in your feet, your hands, behind your ears, in your belly. You lay back and meditate for an hour and a half - stuck up with little needles like a fatted pig.

After the session, you get a tin of black goop, and a package of herbs which you are to brew into a tea - two teaspoons stirred into a cup of hot water, which you drink three times a day. The goop stinks, and you are to cake it on your back. The herbal tea tastes just like dirt. Remember when you were a kid and used to be made to eat dirt? Yes, it's just like that.

You are desperate to get rid of the pain in your back, so you do it all, just as instructed. Religiously. More religiously than you have ever done anything in your life. And the back is better. Lots better, much better, almost healed.

You don't know why or how. It just is. What is the moral of the story? I suppose when you need healing, best to find a healer.

"I got a weak back... about a week back..."

And well, then, how did you hurt your back?

There was the standing, sitting, bending, twisting, carrying, picking up, putting down, pulling, pushing, slipping, sliding, falling, catching, schlepping, hauling, walking, trudging, upping the stairs, downing the stairs, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, worrying, thinking, speaking, yelling, whispering, practicing, playing, working, rehearsing, watching, stirring, cooking, laundering, sleeping, dreaming, nightmaring... you know... living.

Pain.

Pain. If you are human, you will feel pain. It's inevitable. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual. And pain trumps just about everything. You will do or try anything to avoid or alleviate pain. You will take heavy narcotics, you will drink major quantities of alcohol, you will go to doctors, you will submit yourself to examinations, and operations, and therapies. Anything.

Witch Doctors, Faith Healers, Physical Therapists, Social Workers, Drug Dealers, Psychiatrists, Spirit Guides, Charlatans and Kooks of all types - yes, you will consult with any and all of them. Pain changes the human equation. It becomes a annoying friend who just will not take the hint to leave. It becomes a job, and a occupation.

Long-term, debilitating pain.  It's a character. It's like heavy weather. You can endure. Until you can't.

Note by Note!

We were talking music. You can go all the way back to Pythagoras.  A note, one note, no matter what it is A, B-flat, D# - play one note, and it is perfect. It is the next note that determines what you're doing, where you're going. It is about relationships. Do the notes sound good together? Is there an ease, or a tension? We teach our ears. We decide whether the sound of those two notes plucked together, or one after the other, sounds like music or like noise.

And we have learned to like or at least tolerate "noise," in our music. Maybe it's because we live in a technological, machine age. We have learned to live with the sound of machines, and have incorporated that sound into our music. So dissonance can sound good to us. Sometimes harmony can be too sweet.

But then again, coming out of dissonance, harmony can sweep us off our feet. So yes, relationships. 

It turns out that's what makes a group or band fly or fall too. Do the musicians listen to each other? Do they have a sympathy, empathy for the work? Can they be in the moment and respond to the demands of the song? It happens note by note, sound by sound.

Lord Litter's Magic Music Box International!

This is cross-posted at whitewolfsonicprincess' r&r diary!

You've got to love the r&r renegades. Those who are on the lookout for the unique, the unexpected, those working on the margins. Lord Litter is a musician and DJ based in Berlin, Germany. He has been exploring independent, home-made music for years. Somehow he came across our CD, 10+1 and he really seemed to connect with our sound. Lord Litter hosts a couple of radio shows. He will be featuring our song "Black Black Wings," on Lord Litter's Magic Music Box International on  KWTF broadcasting from Bodega Bay, California, USA at 88.1 FM and streaming on the Internet at KWTF.net. Listen for us on Feb. 27 starting at 6:00 p.m. So happy to "make the playlist!" It's gratifying to find sympathetic, renegade ears! - Jammer

The Ultimate Chicago Guy!

Tony Fitzpatrick is a Chicago Guy. He's in the mold of Terkel, Royko, Nelson Algren. A tough guy, close to the street, close to the heartbeat of the city. He's also an accomplished artist and writer. He writes a column called "Dime Stories," for New City, a free newspaper about the Chicago arts and culture.

His column is a must-read. Always shines a light; it always glows with his wit, intelligence and unique perspective. Fitzpatrick's voice comes through in perfectly realized sentences. You can't wait to see what's on his mind.

Anyway, as he writes about here, recently, he had a heart attack. We almost lost the man. We learn lots of things in this little column. Two St. Joseph's aspirin probably saved his life. It's a good idea to have your own bottle in the cupboard, just in case. Also, Obamacare really is life-changing legislation. If it wasn't for Obama's health reform, Fitzpatrick would not have had insurance and well, maybe he wouldn't have gotten the care that brought him back from the brink of death.

No longer can you be refused because of "preexisting conditions." Fitzpatrick's story is a tale of recovery, and hope.  Godspeed Mr. Fitzpatrick. So glad you made it! And thank you too Barack Obama!

"Be Like Water." - It's Complicated!

"Be like water." (See previous post). But even that simple advice gets complicated. If you are water in sub-zero temperatures you become ice. And you freeze in place. And you can be broken into little icy shards, disintegrate into a million tiny pieces, like little shining stars.

And if you are water, and it's super-hot, sizzling hot, you boil, and evaporate. You disappear into a mist in the air, you become a cloud of water, you melt into the sky.

Bob Dylan once sang a song "Watching the River Flow." But really you want to be that river, a sweetly flowing river. Or you want to be a sweetly babbling brook, or a waterfall, or a beautiful blue ocean.

But if you are like water you have to be up for all of these things. So yes, it gets complicated.

Strength in Being Soft!

I do think that life sort of hardens us. We get creaky and brittle. Our bones. Our muscles. Maybe our thoughts too.

The trick is to try to stay pliable, flexible.  Relax and flow.  So much of our time is built upon resistance. Resistance to the pain, to the onslaught of other people, and to traumatic events.

The Tao Te Ching counsels us to "be like water…" - yes, translucent, resilient, easy. There is a strength in being soft. There is power, in moving, giving way.

Nasty, Un-intended Consequences!

You know, I am willing to wonder whether politics makes us all dumber (see previous post). We want to solve problems, and we want simple solutions that can be easily implemented, but the problems aren't simple, and can't be easily solved. We are human beings - flawed, imperfect vessels. I think it's best to expect the worst, hope for the best. I do think we can blunder into doing the right thing. I guess that makes me a "liberal." I do believe in a better tomorrow, and social justice, and I do believe we can use  government to promote the things we think we should promote.

Government isn't always the solution, but sometimes it can be an effective tool. But also I realize there are limits to what we can do, and of course, there are some problems that will always be problems.

Politics is a game, a contest. You have two sides, each pretending they know more than they know, and they think the other guy is a fool.

I am not starry-eyed. I do think sometimes our motives are clean, and sometimes not. And we can do some really dumb counterproductive things… for instance…here's Kevin Drum's headline: "Since 9/11 We've had 4 Wars in the Middle East. They've All Been Disasters."

We have been busy. And it has been pretty counter-productive. Some people think killing other people is definitive, decisive. But there are all those nasty un-intended consequences...

David Mamet - Political Imbecile!

I came across David Mamet's "political" book, "The Secret Knowledge," on a friend's coffee table. I picked it up and read the first 50 pages, then I skipped around a bit, kind of skimmed the highlights. What a load of rubbish. I really hate this book. I consider Mamet to be one of America's great playwrights, primarily based on two brilliantly realized plays - "Glengary Glen Ross," and "American Buffalo," but as a political mind, he really comes across as an imbecile.

I mean, he parrots Glen Beck and other talk radio nut jobs. Mamet is afraid of environmentalists, feminists, multiculturalists. He believes that Obama really is a great stealth "socialist." I hate the book because it is lazy, badly-reasoned, dumbed-down. Kind of disappointing coming from someone I used to admire. I went to Google and asked, "what happened to David Mamet?"

I came across the late great Christopher Hitchens "take down" of the book in the NY Times Book Review. "This is a straw book." - C. Hitchens.

Yes. A terribly dumb and boring book.  Mamet tells us that reading Friedrick Von Hayek's "On the Road to Serfdom," opened his eyes. You wonder if someone threw the book at Mamet's head, you know, it knocked him out, and when he woke up, he realized that Glen Beck wasn't a perniciously crazy right-wing clown, but a enlightened genius! Hah! Total rubbish!

Billions and Billions and Billions

When you start thinking in Billions of Years, well, the mind just sort of locks up. It's all just too overwhelming. We have a brief time on the planet, in the guise that we happen to be in at the moment, and every day gets more and more precious as time unrolls. 

We are told we must "be patient," and to "learn how to wait," but the waiting really is the hardest part. Especially when you become aware of that incessant ticking... tick, tick, tick...

Yes, that's the sound of a life dribbling away.

But then, back to those Billions of Years. We are talking about Billions and Billions and Billions. And many of these Billions occurred well before you were even a glimmer in the eye of your forbears. And it's a good bet that there will be Billions and Billions and Billions more well after you are not even a wisp of a trace of a gnat's eyelash.

So you came in late to the show, and you will leave early, well before the Fat Lady Sings. And still, you must wait, take your time, take your turn, stand in line, and well, see what happens.  That is a hard row to hoe, Baby!

Where You are To Go!

I actually take comfort in the thought that we don't really know what's going on. I mean, I live with eyes open wide, I take in all that I can take in, and try to process it all the best I can. But we are surrounded and engulfed by big unfathomable mysteries, and all the big questions seem to be unanswerable.

And maybe questions are irrelevant.  The key is to take it all in. Always. To be open and flexible. Pliable. We can think and ruminate and philosophize, and rationalize. But these are just ways to pass the time. You just don't want the time to just pass you by. You want to plunge into the stream of life. Truly, madly, deeply. And let the stream carry you... to where you are to go.

A Really Good Writer!

A really good writer can totally engage you and enchant you. Using words strung together in sentences, a really good writer can convey their intelligence, their wit; they can share their sensibility, their consciousness. 

If you read them often, you realize you are entering another world, even if they are writing about the world as you know it. You are looking through new, other eyes. You feel you "know" them, you look forward to seeing their sentences and paragraphs.

A really good writer is among the best people you "know," people who have enriched your life, opened your eyes, made you laugh, or cry, or scratch your head. You feel you've learned something; you may have been enlightened, or amused. Sometimes it's just little things, one line, one word, one image that leaves you feeling differently.

It doesn't matter what they are writing about, if they are really good, you find you are interested in what they are interested. What's amazing about a really good writer, they can tackle subjects you absolutely aren't interested in, and well, you read them, and find that maybe you were wrong, there is something worthwhile to think about, contemplate, learn.

David Carr, who wrote about the media for the the New York Times was that kind of really good writer. He died this week, suddenly, in the news room. Shocking, sad. I will really, really miss him - a really good writer. 

Inadequate Sideshows!

Human Beings. We are creative. And inventive. We have come up with some good tools to deal with the Universe. For instance, Logic and Reason. We can appear, (at least to ourselves) as pretty intelligent, and discerning.

But you know, the Universe isn't logical or reasonable. We may impose these things on the Universe - but it really is an imposition. And we aren't even completely logical or reasonable ourselves. A complete human being is also illogical, and irrational. Sometimes we bounce from one state to another, moment by moment.

And think of a Hurricane, or a black hole, or a galaxy, or evolution, or a pheasant.  Logic and reason don't seem to encompass these phenomena at all. And think of life and death. And well. Our little games of logic, our little mask of reason, seem like paltry, very inadequate sideshows...

Mainlining the Pop Culture Zeitgeist!

Best Album of 2014? I would hazard a good guess that the four albums that were nominated by the Grammy committee were not it. I bought lots of new music in 2014 and none of the records I absolutely loved, and listened to obsessively, were nominated, and probably weren't even heard of by most people.

You know there is music, and then there is the music biz and in some ways they don't have anything to do with one another. And to compare albums and artists and to rank them and reward them with little trophies is just so ridiculous.

This isn't synchronized swimming. Hard to judge totally different things. And when it comes down to it, the music you love or don't love is all a matter of personal taste.

Of course, the Grammy's and other awards shows are all much more about money, power, and attention, and some grand status game. It's a spectacle, and a kind of debacle. This Beyonce vs. Beck thing is pretty funny. And Kayne West really is treading on thin ice. I mean he is "mainlining the pop culture zeitgeist" and you can only do that for so long before you blow out your credibility as a viable pop culture entity.

Kanye is taking it all way too seriously, or maybe not seriously enough. He is really risking becoming the "Chocolate Vanilla Ice." And he risks joining the ranks of other pop culture car crashes: Charlie Sheen, Vanilla Ice, MC Hammer, Sarah Palin, Ted Nugent, Geraldo Rivera, Milli Vanilli... etc.

Voices of the Dead...

You hear and read about people and their stories, and then, well, everything you think you know sort of melts into the ether...

Phan Thi Bich Hang is the "official psychic" of Vietnam.  When she was 5 years old she was bitten by a rabid dog, and when she came out of her coma, she could hear the voices of the dead. The government uses her to locate the bodies of those who went missing during the Vietnam war.

Sounds like fiction. But isn't. It was the inspiration for a novel by a poet named Quan Barry. What can you say...?

Body Work!

I'm not the only one who has discovered the secret of alternative medicine (see previous post). I mean, how about all those people in China? There's a billion or so people right there.

And how about that 37 years old, super-competitive, and immensely successful NFL QB, you know the guy who's won a bunch of Superbowls, threw 4 TD's in the last one, and was named MVP? You know, he's handsome, married to a Super-Model? That guy?

In the past, Tom Brady had a serious groin injury. Team doctors recommend surgery, you know, they'd just clip the muscle and...  Brady didn't think that sounded so cool, so he looked for alternatives. He found a guy who is now his "body coach," Alex Guerrero. He's got a masters in Chinese Medicine, and he has developed a unique "massage technique." Brady is convinced that Guerrero has kept Brady's body pliable and flexible and healthy, without surgery, without drugs.

It seems to have worked beautifully for Brady. Yes, it's alternative, but it's hard to argue with the results...

“We work on staying physically fit, emotionally stable and spiritually sound,” he says. He can sound somewhat Stuart Smalley-like in his mantras. Guerrero shares with me a saying that he and Brady invoke a lot: “Where your concentration goes, your energy flows and that’s what grows.” - Alex Guerrero

Where Does the Pain Go? Ancient Chinese Secret!

How does Acupunture work? I don't really know. I just know that it has worked for me. Sticking little needles in your body, how can that be good for you? Not exactly sure. 

Is it all just the placebo effect in action? I don't really know. I do know that one day I had excruciating pain, and that after a 1 1/2 hour session of acupuncture, the pain was already dissipating.

And when I say "excruciating pain," that doesn't really convey the feeling coursing through my body. Somehow I totally wrecked my knee just trudging through the snow. The pain was intense and overwhelming, actually brought tears to my eyes. I was not imagining the pain.

I was sure that I would need go to the Doctor, acquire some major painkillers and probably have to go under the knife. At least this was my thought-train during one agonizing night. And I began to imagine my active life sort of slipping away. But now, after one acupuncture session,  I am on the mend. My knee seems to be making a remarkable, totally miraculous recovery. I am a believer. I was also given some Chinese herbs (a black goop, with the look and consistency of dark chocolate) that I apply to the sore area. 

Science, Western Medicine - they look dimly on this whole approach, but all I can say is that the pain has subsided and the knee (still a bit stiff) is much, much better. I am ready to take on the day! One careful step at a time!

A Strangeness Realized!

Stranger in a Strange Land. It's a famous Sci-Fi novel written by Robert Heinlein. I've never read it, but I understand that it tells the story of a boy born on Mars, raised by Martians, now living on planet Earth.

And why does this title resonate so deeply. Doesn't this predicament ring so true? Don't we all feel like aliens? Born into a world that is not our own? Alienated from society, family, country, planet? A being separated and lost. Adrift in a foreign environment.

Yesterday it dawned on me that this "strange land," is also our bodies. We are beings trapped in muscle and bone. "Are these really my hands? Is this really my face? What is this odd vehicle in which I find myself encased?"

And this "me" or "I" - it is some kind of alien too. We are a strangeness doubly realized.

Trudging Has it's Consequences

Trudging through the snow. It has it's consequences. A sore knee. Now every step is just that much more difficult. Must be some kind of lesson there. Every step counts. And one false step can change the game. And then there is pain. And you have to live with that too. And try to work it out. Just another thing...

Worst Sort of Nonsense!

This is obvious, maybe it isn't even worth pointing out, but then you look at the world, the headlines, and you realize yes, maybe it is worth pointing out...

People who "speak for God," people who think they "know what God wants," are just deluded, and arrogant, and create lots of unnecessary mischief. And major heartache and pain.

Whether there is a God is kind of an open question, and then to pretend to know "his plan," or "his rules," or "his preferences," is just the worst sort of nonsense. 

Human beings should try to be a little bit more humble when it comes to the grand questions...

Deep White Snow

Snow. Piles of snow. Drifts of snow.
Trudging past the grave yard.
Can't ride a bike in deep white snow.
Headstones buried in white.
Trudging, just trudging.
Can't help thinking this is all 
just a metaphor
but turns out it's a life.

Eating Dirt!

Turns out too much hygiene, being too clean, and germ-phobic might not be good for us. And those drugs that decimate bacteria inside us, might actually be working against us.

This makes me think that I should probably thank that "neighborhood bully," who used to beat me up, who used sit on my chest, and make me eat dirt all those years ago. Who knows? Maybe all that "dirt-eating" was actually good for me?

I mean, I didn't like it, dirt has a very extreme, kind of over-powering taste, but maybe my biome actually benefitted?

That's the kind of world we live in. The things we think are good for us might not be, and the things we think are bad for us, might not be... who knew?

"Do the Work. They Will Find You!"

"Do the work. They will find you." 

I guess I live by that credo. The key part of that is the first part. Do the work. Have faith in the work. Do work that has heart and meaning to you.  The other part is out of your control. They will find it, or they will not. The work and the "finding" are different things, different processes.

You can't chase the others. 

You want to create work that touches people and communicates, but the key is to create with a stubborn integrity. It's the only thing you can count on. And maybe they don't find you. That's the leap of faith, that's the risk you have to take.

And look at the history of humankind. People come and go. Sometimes the work does too. But then again, sometimes the work stands. But that really isn't your concern. It's not in your power. Don't worry about it.

Work. Do the work. Oh yeah. And play too! Take the leap. And risk. Whatever you think is valuable and important. And hard too.

The Humiliation Game!

I don't want to name any names, to protect the innocent and the guilty, but it seems to be that much of the game of "celebrity" is actually a grand act of public humiliation.

We "elevate" a group of people so we can then watch them lower themselves for our entertainment. And it seems there is no limit to how low people will go.

And then we applaud, and laugh, and laud these people, and give them our attention, and large sums of money, because they have completely humiliated themselves for us. We reward people for giving up their privacy, their dignity, their grace, their intelligence.

And we grade them, and give kudos to those who endure their complete and total humiliation willingly. It's really a very ugly game. That's entertainment!

Wide Open!

Understanding and admitting your own profound vulnerability? Yeah, no problem. Knowing that you are temporary, marginal, not so important to the Universe? Got it.

Hoping that maybe there is a certain strength in admitting that you are vulnerable to the whims of a large, teeming Universe? Okay yes, maybe that's the way to morph the reality. 

Maybe those who can admit their profound vulnerability can find a certain strength where they can see, admit and live with that vulnerability? Wounded and hurt? Yes, that's a human thing. Profoundly human. 

Let it open us. Keep us wide open.