Surrounded by the Stupid...

“The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence” - Charles Bukowski

Maybe this line from Charles Bukowski is true? I mean,  to me, it has the ring of truth this morning. Up early, scanning the news, it seems that the "stupid ones," have the loudest voices, grab the most attention. One begins to think there are only the stupid ones, but, of course that isn't true. 

Bukowski was a famous alcoholic, a hard-working-man, a derelict, but also a Poet. A dedicated writer, who wrote, often brillliantly, about his  very hard-scrabble existence on the streets. His poetry and short stories are not of the "ivory tower" poetical school. More the school of "hard knocks." The school of "pricks & kicks." Think: vomit, shit, piss. With some beauty flowering in the crap. He and his poetry were obsessions of mine, and pretty much a bad influence. He's sort of the Keith Richards of poetical bad influences. All these years later, for me, the lessons of Bukowski: write, always, always write, no matter what, pursue what you love, live the dream, even if you live in the gutter. AND don't be an asshole like Buk. Really.

Yes, it was a Good Day...

There are some events where you just have to fall back on a Biblical perspective. You know, time to haul out an old, dusty quote. Yesterday turned out to be a significant news day. News dropped and I suddenly heard from all kinds of folks who were pretty damn happy and giddy, and my first thought: "You shall reap what you sow." 34 felony charges, 34 guilty verdicts. 

It made me happy to see that the Judicial System actually still works. A Judge & a Jury doing their Civic Duty. Standing up and doing a job. Taking it seriously, and then making a decision. Yes. It was a very good day. We get to see the full, essential-essence of this man. What is the full, essential-essence of this man? Guilty as sin...

 

CODA: A Message from the Joe Biden Campaign...

"Donald Trump has always mistakenly believed he would never face consequences for breaking the law for his own personal gain. But today’s verdict does not change the fact that the American people face a simple reality. There is still only one way to keep Donald Trump out of the Oval Office: at the ballot box. Convicted felon or not, Trump will be the Republican nominee for president.

The threat Trump poses to our democracy has never been greater. He is running an increasingly unhinged campaign of revenge and retribution, pledging to be a dictator ‘on day one’ and calling for our Constitution to be ‘terminated’ so he can regain and keep power. A second Trump term means chaos, ripping away Americans’ freedoms and fomenting political violence – and the American people will reject it this November."

Amen, Brothers & Sisters.

A Necessary Cleanse...

I have found myself in a hidey-hole. A bit of a cul de sac. Split between two magnificent homes near the lake. Often totally alone with two little furry critters, living in luxurious digs. It's strange. Sort of ship-wrecked, on an island, an island of plenty.

I check in on the news of the day occasionally. And even as I do it, I wonder: "Why?" It's a habit. Not sure if it's a healthy one. There is so much noise coming from so many quarters. It seems my fellow humans are running around with their hair on fire. 

There are the shit-stirrers, the tear down everythings, those who want to watch it all burn to embers. There are those wishing to fan the flames and then walk on those embers. There are a few folks (I seek them out), who are trying to keep their heads, be cool, explain the madness with cool & comforting lines of reason. Of course, it all seems a bit inadequate.

From my hidey-hole it all just sounds like chatter. The lapping of waves. It's easy to tune out the noise, & the counter-noise, and sink into my own reveries. 

Sure. Yes. That seems like a great plan to adopt. I am living in these surroundings for another week or so. I think of it as a necessary cleanse. A bit of a retreat from the hurly-burly & hustle & flow.

"Lighted Fools..."

 I always loved William Shakespeare's "Macbeth" (1606). I think it may be the shortest play he ever wrote, or maybe not, maybe it's the only the shortest one of his that I have read. 

I have seen some magnificent filmed version's of the play, including fantastic movies starring Orson Welles, and Denzel Washington in the title role. And have also seen a wonderful, live in the theater version too. 

I suppose the play is dark, gloomy, violent. Human jelousy and "murder most foul," in the pursuit of power and acclaim.  Also madness, guilt, bad blood, bad action, dastardly bad deeds. It depicts a dark, troubled land, a world gone tilt, because of a nasty lust for power.

There are the three strange, spell-casting witches: "bubble, bubble, toil & trouble." And brilliant, captivating language through-out. The play has a relentless, careening, gale-force, narrative thru-line. 

It is a brilliant work of thrilling black-magic. And then there's this little monologue. It was floating thru my head this sunny morning. I wonder what the day will bring? I mean having this in my head doesn't bum me out. I feel alive with poetic lines flowing thru my whole body. Life, it's the all about dark and light forces dancing and bouncing off each other. Oh Macbeth, sorry to say, yes, the trees of Dunsinane will come marching to your door...

Speech: “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow”

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

(from Macbeth, spoken by Macbeth)

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

The Over-Arching Vibe...

Memorial Day. It was bit stormy, cloudy & rainy here. That didn't stop the people. They came out to the lakefront in droves, set up their tents & grills, tossed frisbies & volleyballs, brought out their chairs, and food supplies, and BBQ'd like total pros.

Everyone danced between the raindrops, thunder and lightening, and did their thing. Kind of a weird "celebration," on a solemn holiday.

I was a wanderer and rover most of the day. An observer on the fringe. I reflected on the tragic nature of the day. Honoring the fallen in all those terrible wars. Every war really is a failure. Are there any "good wars?" Maybe some tragically necessary wars (World War II)? Sometimes there seems to be no alternative. Still, it's a grand madness, a ritual of canage, mayhem. No doubt.

It is heartbreaking to see & know how often human beings engage in such violence and early death. Yes, the sadness and tragedy of the day was the over-arching vibe that resonated thru me. Seemed appropriate.

Life Simplified...

 A life-long, trusted friend, relation, and influential and fabulous person in my life, in conversation a couple days ago, said to me on a phone call: "My life is dogs & coffee!"  I replied: "Same!"

I suppose in retrospect I'd add music to the mix. Sure my day to day is stuffed with other things, but those are my lodestones, or maybe my lodestars. I think it does help to try to simply one's life. We are complicated and tricky. Reality is too. We all need a little bit of space, clarity & simplicity.

So, yes, for me, life simplified means little furry, four-legged creatures of all shapes, sizes and demeanors. They are all good buddies. They are all so happy to see me. It's hard to resist the unconditional love, attention and loyalty.

And I'm all about the perfect coffee brew. A variety of beans well-tended. I have own special coffee mug, my special grinder. It's a ritual and, I suppose a religion.  The brewing, the drinking, the adenaline flooding thru my body. A morning necessity. Yes. It's a deep addiction too. It is one that I can't imagine living without. It transforms me every day from Dumps to Sunny.

And music? What to say? From a young age, music, especially of the r&r variety has filled the air around me. It is a passion. A religion. A way of life. A way of being. Notes. Chords. Voices. I take my music very seriously. Serious enjoyment. I always have music on the box, or in my headphones. I sing and play guitar myself, and it's a mission, a devotion, a deep practice. Everything else falls away when I am listening or playing. 

So, yes, a simplified life, but chock-full. No doubt.

"Every Heart, Every Heart Will Come to Love, But like a Refugee..." - L. Cohen

You know, in the Human Realm, everything is relative, messy, loaded with bias, miscommunication & misunderstanding, which can quickly & easily lead to epically tragic consequences. If you open your eyes, you can see that quite starkly & clearly in our every day to day. 

Often, one feels lost, and at sea. Floating in the Sea of Unknowing & Uncertainty. It is very disorienting & distressing. There is an elaborate Human Maze, a Human-constructed hall of mirrors that we live in. It is easy to feel trapped. Helpless.

As Paul Simon once sang in his great song "The Boxer" : "Still, a man hears what he wants to hear, And disregards the rest..." 

Such a limiting strategy. A strategy to be wrong, confused, clueless, out of touch, and blind to the rest of the world. Alternatively, there is mystery. Maybe embrace the mystery all around us? Maybe that is where hope can be found?

I think of Leonard Cohen's magnificent song "Anthem," 

"You can add up the parts

You won't have the sum

You can strike up the march

There is no drum

Every heart

Every heart to love will come

But like a refugee

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in

That's how the light gets in

That's how the light gets in"

Nature has not perfected the "perfect Human." Or then again, the maybe "perfect Human," is just completely Human, flawed, complicated, contradictory, partial, and a work in progress? Subject to positive and negative forces. We are broken beings. You know, we just happen to be "drawn that way." But as our great sage Leonard Cohen tells us that brokeness opens cracks, and that's "how the light gets in..."

Honor the Good...

I dreamed. 

A journey. I made a long climb up a mountain. A sprawling mountaintop, full of jutting rocks and rich, verdant, greenery. I met some interesting people along the way. Human characters of every stripe. Human Beings from every land and tribe. 

There were Egyptians, Mayans, Greeks, Europeans, First Nation Peoples, Chinese, Tibetans, Eskimos, Africans, Americans from all eras. Also, I came across, (I kid you not), the talk-show host Johnny Carson. He was speaking to a small gathering. I immediately went up to him and told him that when I was a growing up in the vacant suburbs, I would stay up and watch the Tonight Show Starring Johhny Carson. He took a puff on his cigarette, and replied: "I hope I wasn't a corrupting influence." I assured him, "No, you showed me what it meant to be an adult in the USA." I flashed on Flip Wilson, Buddy Hackett, Bette Midler, Dean Martin, Albert Brooks, Sammy Davis Jr. Ha. Celebrity & Fame in America. 

Anyway, I continued on my journey. Everyone I passed on the way seemed to wish me well.

I came to a clearing, and discovered a plaque, affixed to an ancient tree. The plaque was old, weathered, beaten by the elements, seemingly been there for ages and ages. There were words inscribed on the plaque. I thought to myself, "Here is where Wisdom will be found." 

I read the words out-loud, my lips moved, the words tumbled from my mouth; these were the words from the Oracle: "Good is Good."

Ha. Really?! That's it? That's the hard-earned message of Truth and Wisdom? I laughed. There was a touch of wild joy in my laugther. So simple. So self-evident. Simple-minded? Still, what to do with that pearl? 

This morning I think: I must Lean to the Light, Honor the Good, be Disciplined in all ways, Strive Always to Do and Be Better. 

The Good. Bask in and cultivate the Good. You know, it was a dream.

Stuck...

"No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it." - Albert Einstein

Aye. There's the rub...

Lord Action Nails It...

Lord Action: "Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Sure. We live in a Universe where the Light & the Dark forces always dance around us. There are few ideas that seem to be true any time, any era, any human realm.  Lord Action nailed it, no doubt. It seems to be an idea that never fails. Humans Beings crave Power, and Power corrupts. It's as clear as a clear day.

There's also this from the Lord: "Great men are almost always bad men, even when they exercise influence and not authority: still more when you superadd the tendency or the certainty of corruption by authority."

I find it difficult to argue with Lord Action. I mean, you know, look at the evidence...

Getting Along is Sometimes Quite Difficult...

"Why can't we all get along?"

Well. Turns out, sometimes we just can't.

We don't always want the same things. Or if we do want the same thing, only one of us can have it. The other party is plum out of luck. Sometimes it really is a Zero Sum Game - I can only win if you lose. 

Yikes. That's kind of harsh. How to navigate that swampy swamp? Try to be humble, gentle and responsive. I know. Not really helpful.

Sometimes we are truly at total opposite ends, and any compromise seems impossible.

What to do then? Not sure.

The Planet of Broken Toys...

Ok... maybe I do have an answer to that question "Why?" (see previous post)...

This swirling, twirling little Blue Planet that we inhabit is the "Planet of Broken Toys..."

"Who Knows?"

My partner and I were eating a late Sunday lunch. It was after a long, lazy, luxurious morning, and then a bike ride on the path and a quiet meditation on the lakefront at our sun-spot.

We were back home, in the kitchen, listening to National Public Radio. An Astrophysist was speaking about the James Webb Space Telescope and it's mission:

Seeking Light from the First Galaxies in the Universe 

"Webb will directly observe a part of space and time never seen before. Webb will gaze into the epoch when the very first stars and galaxies formed, over 13.5 billion years ago. Ultraviolet and visible light emitted by the very first luminous objects has been stretched or “redshifted” by the universe’s continual expansion and arrives today as infrared light. Webb is designed to “see” this infrared light with unprecedented resolution and sensitivity."

We were kind of stunned into silence. James Webb is flying into the Past? What?! Everything Webb sees is the Past. There was talk of distant, baby galaxies, and Black Holes, invisble, massive and mysterious.  And, well, fuck: Time. Lots of Time in Space. The farther Webb travels the deeper it goes into  an earlier Universe. Bizzare. We were scracthing our heads. Trying to get our heads around these very weird, other-worldly facts. So strange. Hard to digest. Extraordinary and extra-human. 

Wonder. Stunned into Wonder. We were also inspired. Listening to the Astrophysist was so captivating, she was so excited about explaining this amazing mission. Very, super-impressive. 

After that late lunch my partner went outside to work on her lovely garden, and I put on a pair of closed-back headphones and sank into stirring, fabulous r&r music from the Rolling Stones. How to process the Universe? Who knows? We turned to Flowers & Music. 

Later in the evening, just before we headed off to bed, my partner turned to me with tears in her eyes. She floated this heartfelt question to me: "Why aren't we doing better?"  I knew the "we" she was asking about was Humanity. All of Humanity. 

The Universe is so grand, so strange, so mysterious, so other-worldly-magnificent. How it is possible that we Human Beings are so smart, so enterprising & clever, we can actually build and launch a telescope deep into the Universe to explore and send back images to us on Earth?  Our pretty little home a swirling, twirling little Blue Planet? Pretty damn head-explodingly-clever.

And, simultaneously, what the fuck is so deeply wrong with Human Beings? Why are we such a rollicking, sadly-tragic/comic shit-show (you know war, death, evil intent, willful stupidty, cruelty, bad blood, bad action, greed, & soul-killing selfishness)?

How to answer? 

I mean, it's a gnarly, knotty question for sure, one that begs for an answer. But we both knew, there really wasn't one. A big, fat dark cloud of unknowing hung over us. "Why?"  I fumbled around a bit in my head. I flashed on Cheech & Chong; a duo of comical, stoned-out, heady-navel-gazing. Finally, I ventured my own paltry, inadequate, poorly-constructed and verbalized response: "I mean... um... you know... like... well... fuck... um... who knows?"

The Outer and Inner...

I think we are "dream-making-machines." We navigate in the real world, and we conjure up scenarios in our heads. Sometimes the outer-world and the inner-world match up. That's when you feel like everything is breaking your way. Other times, the outer and inner worlds are at cross-purposes. Then it feels like you are out-of-sync, out of luck, and all your dreams are tiny puffs of smoke with no hold, purchase or substance. Sometimes that "dream-making machine," is hacked or hi-jacked, and instead of "dreams" it is all a long film-roll of "nightmare." What's a Humble Pilgrim to do? Get out of your head, and be present in the real world of what is. "What is," is a great teacher. And a hard-grader. Oh well. Those dreams are a nice diversion, entertaining, but getting on with it in the what is, I mean, that's really the game. Sure. dream, baby dream, but then, put your boots on and get out there...

Broken Toys...

"You are not from around here, are you?"

My partner and I have heard that often over the years. Funny. We do feel different from the herd. We both feel like we don't really belong anywhere. Even if we are from around here. We stick out like "sore thumbs." Somehow we carry that on our shoulders. Not sure exactly how that translates to other folks. Maybe we take cues from each other?

You know the Don't Fit In Vibe.

I think for most of our lives we were unaware, we were in denial. We tried to fit in. Pretty unsuccessfully. It never really worked. The last decade or so, I think we just threw in the towel. Sure, we are broken toys, not at home anywhere. Even our own bodies seem sort of foreign to us. 

Being different. It's a vulnerability. Maybe a bit dangerous? Some folks just don't like it. On the other hand, sometimes we are noticed, tolerated, and embraced too by other broken toys. And that's a sort of homecoming.

It's OK. We are so damn visible. Just have to go with it. "In it, not of it." That's how we roll. You know, that seems to be "our jam." Strange, exotic, awkward, birds. Odd birds of a feather. Even when we think we are fitting in, we really aren't. Which is kind of funny. Let go. Be ourselves to the max. Damn the torpedoes. That's the ticket.

Attracted to the Underdogs...

You might think it's Goliath vs. David, (see previous post). And I suppose it is...

Existenstial Dread: Death, Destruction, Bad Actors, Bad Actions, Chaos, Clusterfucks, Murder, Failure, Futility, Stupidity, a deep, in the bone, sense of Helplessness surrounding all the big subjects in our Lives.

Vs.

Optimisim, Hope, Happiness: Coffee, Light in all it's various forms, Humor, a weird sense of being connected to everything in the Universe, Intelligence, Music, Poetry, Laughter, Love, Dreams. Oh yeah, throw in a guitar, a voice, good meals, oatmeal (!), a decent night's sleep. The small consolations alive in our ever-expanding (?) Universe of Hurly-Burly.

OK. Maybe it's a long-shot, but I am solidly in the David Camp. I have always been attacted to the Underdogs. A good coffee brew, a glimmer of light, a little wisp of a dream. That's enough to make it.

Keep the Dread At Bay...

"Better Living Thru Chemistry." Yes. If one photo sums up my Life, it is the one above. Existential Dread is the "Darkness on the Edge of Town," of my world. How to "escape," that Darkness? How to head in the total opposite direction? One cup of coffee at a time. It is in the early morning hours, laying helpless in bed, when my dread reaches it's epic proportions. The only solution, get up, fire up the coffee maker, and luxuirate in a bachannal of hot, rich cups of well-brewed bean. Yes. Chemistry. It's a crutch, an addiction. No doubt. But it's true, the coffee works wonders. A magical concoction. Every cell in my body wakes up, Life surges thru me, Energy is stoked, yes, Energy is Eternal Delight. One must pick their poisons with intelligence.  This morning it is a hearty, deep & rich, sort of velvety French Roast. Yes. Heavy Medicine. I am surely, and happily addicted to the healing, energizing, powers of a handful of shiny little coffee beans. I enthusiasitically indulge every damn morning. Zaps the Dread, vaporizes it into tiny, inconsequential wisps of nothingness. Helps me keep the Dread firmly at bay, at least until the early hours of next morning. I truly am like an emotional & intellectual ping-pong ball. Still, I find Better Living thru life-affirming and enriching Chemistry.

Always Go to the Light...

The Universe works in mysterious ways. That's a fair statement. I mean, something is going on. Not sure what. 

My long-time partner and I were out and about yesterday, doing some errands. At one point, she turned to me and quoted an old football coach. Which I found quite funny on many levels which, I guess, I won't go into now. 

It was a Vince Lombardi line: "Run to daylight."

Now, of course, she was just repeating a line that I have used over the years. Hearing those words made me burst into laughter. Hah. It was a nice joke, an insight, a pearl of wisdom, and a clearing. 

Sure, yes, of course, always go to the light... daylight or otherwise...

A Humbled Doom-Slayer...

Edging out from the Doom-Fest. 

Yes. I am known to be a very, super-optimistic sort. Maybe fiercely optimistic, but you know, sometimes that pose is revealed to be silly & naive, even to me. 

Inadequate to the tragedies that surround us. What tragedies? 

You know, Climate Catastrophe, human irrationality & stupidity, and of course, Death. Common, near & far, every day Death. Those are subjects with no good come-backs. Difficult to rationalize, minimize, or work around. 

So yeah, hard, dead-stop limits. 

Even a defiant, contrarian, always sunny optimism bumps up against an immovable black wall of doom & gloom. If I am the Doom-Slayer, and I think I am, it comes naturally, my default mode, the last optimistic human in a sea of doom; I'd say my shield is bent and falling to pieces, and my sword is dull and tarnished, it just doesn't cut like it used to.

Yeah. What's a humbled Doom-Slayer to do? Put down the shield and sword, pull in one's horns. Make a necessary retreat. Spend some time renewing, refreshing, recharging. Still optimistic to a fault, but that optimism is closely held, burning inside. Let the gloom & doom wash over everything. Let it come down. Wait to reveal a blazing, sunny optimism another day. Like they say, "hope dies last." I mean, I hope so.

Silence...

Silence. 

The unsaid word. 

The buried thought. 

The discarded argument. 

The abandoned opinion. 

The refusal to engage.

Silence. 

Glitters like gold.

Ego-Death = A Clearing...

I was reminded of that concept: Ego Death. I read about it, and a couple nights later I experienced it. It came after a series of unfortunate events: a super-busy flurry of activity, total exhaustion, poor sleep, a few rejections, a sudden, shocking death of one of our collaborators. It all sort of sent me reeling and one early evening, I fell into a very vulnerable, fragile state.

And then, "trying to sleep," I went thru a rosary of moritfications & humiliations. Funny. I was stuck in my head running a film-strip of a continuous loop of life-events that put me, my being, my personality, in the worst light. It was like a ritual shaming. Every last thing that played in my head made me feel worse. I relived a long series of failures over my lifetime. It was a shattering of my Ego. Stuck in a hall of mirrors of fucked-up-ness.

It was humbling. I crashed in the darkness. Funny. I could not conjure up any of the "good times," or successses in my life. It was just a long slog of phoniness, failure and futility. I finally turned from this hell of consciousness and fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I was totally, completely, truly, madly, deeply, empty & clear.

I felt like a ceramic mug that had shattered into a million pieces on the floor. I had to slowly put the pieces back together. There were jagged edges and cracks eveywhere. I have slowly day by day come back to life, one breath, one step at a time. I have been a bit quieter, a bit more gentle and tentative with myself and others. I threw myself into the things of the day: playing music, writing songs, collaborating with our band. The key move was to step out of my deep self-consciousness, into a consciousness of the Universe of things.

Sure, it was a bit of an Ego Death. I now think of it as a necessary cleanse. The images and scenes that destroyed me, no longer seem to have their power or zing. The dust clears: I am here. Still ticking. Ha. That's life. Maybe a deflated, more shrunken Ego means more room for the rest of the Universe to find a place in my being? Yeah, sure, let's go with that idea.

Affix Firmly...

"You only tell the truth when you are wearing a mask." - Bob Dylan

Maybe the mask is the lie that reveals the truth?

What happens when the mask slips? Or you put on the wrong mask to meet the wrong moment? A fracture in the reality-picture? Thinking... "not as smart as you think you are..."

Helpless in the face of circumstances. Flailing. Falling. Crashing. In the morning light, the picture starts to reassemble itself. A new mask is within reach. Just reach your arms out and embrace. Affix firmly for best results...

Karma = Salacious Joyride!

Editorial cartoons. One of our greatest art-forms. A well rendered scene can really pack a quality punch. A great editorial cartoon can say everything that can be said in an instant flash of brilliance.  Spot-on the point. It is sort of wondrous. I love this one-panel example from one our greatest editorial cartoonists Mike Lucovich.

"Karma!"

It makes me smile, and laugh out-loud, because I too have been on the theme of the "karma-train." Fat-Boy Slime sits in a Manhatten courtroom, and he has to face a barrage of folks who are recounting the sordid deeds of his life. 

Sure it's an ugly circus, a bit of a shit-show, a salacious (what a great word) joyride, icky and a bit vomit-inducing, but that man is just facing the music of a life of fraud and lies. It's a reckoning. A trial of accountability. It's Karma-time, baby! 

Daily Mantra...

"Chill the fuck out."

My partner and I are sensitive, excitable folks. We are just wired that way. It is always a struggle just to keep on an even keel. Not actually sure it's possible. We have our days of blue skies and golden sunshine, and then we have those days of turmoil & hurly-burly. One step forward, two steps back. It's always a herky-jerky dance thru our days.

Everything counts, everything is connected. Living in this Universe is a PTSD-evoking kind of thing. We wear the trauma and drama in our bodies. There are the great & grand Universal fuck-ups and tragedies, and there are the personal, closer to home ones too. It's all so turbulent. 

Chaos.  It's built into the fabric of our lives. "Chill the fuck out." It's our latest, go-to mantra.

The Aquarium of Narcissim...

 I don't think it is a stretch to think that it is Narcissim that rules the present day across the Human Realm:

  "a self–centered personality style characterized as having an excessive preoccupation with oneself and one's own needs, often at the expense of others."

Well. Yeah. That is the aquarium we all swim in, preoccupied with oneself, at the expense of others.

We live as if we are all celebrities. We build altars to our own Egos. Ha. It's all kind of silly, self-absorbed, and pretty off-putting too. Having a "smart phone" in hand at all times, to capture the many angles of a self is a weird way to spend your days. Yep. It's a weird hall of mirrors. For sure.

It's tricky. I am one who writes about my own experience day to day. I am self-aware. And in some ways that seems important. Again we are left with navigating a dichotomy: self-aware/self-less.  There is a wide spectrum of human activity.

We can choose not to play the narcissim card. Really. I think so. Sure, being self-aware is a bit of a sticky wicket. But I find that the best of times are those where I "lose my self." Give one's self, one's ego to meet a moment, an activity, or another person. Seeking those flow activities where you become one with something other.

Being present, dropping the ego, tricking your self, to lose your self, to subsume into a higher-consciousness. Yes. I think it's possible. And desirable. A step out of the hall of mirrors, into a vast Universe of other things. A step towards better, more rewarding, mode of living.

A Glorious Idleness...

Yesterday my partner and I experimented with "being present." Mundane Monday turned into a festival of hanging out. We are dedicated pros when it comes to chasing a positive vibe afternoon. In some ways it was a perfect day. Cool breeze off the lake, brilliant sunshine, not too cold, not too hot, gorgeous blue sky, everything alive and blooming. We truly live in a beautiful neighborhood. It is stunning and extraordinary. The grasses, the trees, the flowers, the little critters, every being alive, and at full attention, fully-engaged with their living schtick. We downshifted into a passive, genial, moment to moment bliss. We rode our bikes and gravitated to our favorite sun-spot, a bit of a distance away from the hurly-burly, but within eye and ear shot of it too. We snacked on power-bars. We barely talked. Words kind of hung in the air around us. Time slowed to a crawl. We sat like amateur Buddhas, propped against a massive stone wall. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nothing to do, except what we were doing. Being present. Truly, madly, deeply present. It was not boring, it was a glorious idleness. There was a beautiful lightness of being. We both felt it. The afternoon was about the not doing. There was no needing, wanting, grasping. It was all moment to moment presence. There was nothing and everything enwrapped in that gesture. We didn't want to leave. We let the afternoon flow. It was...

"Don't Go Down in the Basement..."

I am an open-minded, up for pretty much of anything type of person. I actually think of myself as someone who can contemplate any idea or concept. Except, I mean, up to a point. An unguarded, totally open mind can get one into trouble.

There are some avenues,  some roads, some destinations, some topics, some ideas, some fears, worries, doubts, that just aren't worth floating, delving into or exploring. Really. No sense in wallowing, or ruminating over toxic, pernicious, or deeply-detrimental subjects.

It is best to try to protect yourself from any Soul-killing phenomena. "A mind is a terrible thing to waste," especially on waste.

Like they say in the movies, if you are smart, and want to make it to the final-credits: "Don't go down in the basement."

Yes. Maybe easier said than done. Sometimes you just can't escape the black-holes that are lurking in the Universe. You can easily fall-in, get sucked into the vortex and be destroyed. Destruction is implicit in the fabric & design of Life.

It takes a bit of pluck & luck & discipline to avoid the deep-darknesses. Sometimes you really can't. I mean, for sure you can't. So you fall, you go down deep into the darkness, and you hope, beyond hope, that you will emerge again into the light.

It's not easy being Green. 

Still, I think that we Human Beings have a deep affinity for the light. We gravitate to it. Sometimes all it takes is a tiny glimmer, a little glint, or spark. It's enough, to get up and out from the dark places. You have to be vigilant, strong-willed, and tough. Be merciless in your ability to grab onto the light. Hang on as if your life depended on it. And at the same time, you must stay open, kind, and gentle, with yourself and others too. It's complicated, for sure.

Decay in the Room...

"We don't know where we come from. We don't know where we are." - Laurie Anderson

Life. It's long. It's short. 

There is an agreeable Decay in the Room...

"What Is..."

Bumping up against "what is." It can be awkward, it can be annoying, it can be eye-opening, it can be dream-crushing, it can be surprising, it can be amazing, it can be beautiful, it can be a teaching-moment, it can be a disillusioning, it can be an education or a re-education, it can alter your trajectory significantly.

You find out that you are not complete, instead you are in an improvisation with "what is." It's long-form improvisation. You can dodge & dance, you can flirt and flaunt, you can grasp and hold on, you can ride the tiger, you can surrender and let go.  No matter what, you have to contend with "What is..." That's life.

It is All Play...

Well... I have learned to play a game. It's part of my "creative" practice. I often "pretend," that everything is new. You know, "beginner's mind?" I act as if, whatever I am doing has never been done before by me or by anyone else either. Ha. I try to short-circuit my "conscious mind," and open to a larger energy field. Sounds silly, or mysterious, but I find it is a simple tool, an emptying of the head. It is often effective & quite liberating. 

First time to write a song. First time to float a dream. First time to put my fingers on a guitar's fretboard. First time to reach out to someone. First time to ask a question. 

There is a bit of a feigned naivete in my approach. Maybe a bit of playing dumb? A primitive's attitude. It's a way of opening a door, opening a mind to something new.

A new day, a new moment. Dropping the past, not thinking of the future. Not worrying about success or failure. Just the doing, in the moment, without worrying or judging. What happens? Happy accidents. Little, surprising discoveries. Gifts from the sky. Playing the Fool in the service of a  higher purpose. Unnamed. Unknowing. It is a working method & a process. A little lie of the mind.  I find it does "work." My best efforts seem to come effortlessly. It is all play.

What Is?

I'm reading Lord Byron's "Don Juan," (it's about pretty much everything), and I came across a "philisophical" passage where he talks about "the world," and "what is." It is in opposition to Berkeley's "idealism," which posits that everything is "in our heads."

As Byron tells it, to think that the world is all in our heads is just pure egotism. 

Put me in the camp with Byron. You know, maybe we are "spiritual beings," living in a "material world?" Hat-tip to George Harrison "Living in the Matrial World."  (1973). And our "job" (sentient beings, witnesses and watchers of the grand unspooling of the Universe), as Human Beings is to notice, to experience, to see, to feel, to take in, "what is." Every damn day. Yesterday, May 1, was Beltane:  the Gaelic May Day festival. We are all here to be fully alive, aware, awake.

What is?

I mean, what happened yesterday? Around here it was an explosion of warm temps, and brilliant color. It was an embracing, a caressing, kind of day. How it is possible that Nature takes front & center and the world flowers and blooms in one glorious instant? That isn't what happened, it has been a slow process, a gradual unfolding, you know, Spring in the Midwest of America, but yesterday if felt like everything was revealed in one instant. Maybe the recent rains and storms lit the fuse?

A beautiful, abundantly-lively & gorgeously-immersive day. Everyone was out and about. Everything was alive, even the rocks, the ground itself, seemed to be pulsing with life. Everything seemed at play. Sun. Blue Sky. Rippling Lake. Green Vegetation. Lively, Looming Trees. Flowers of Every Color & Shape. Everything Bubbling & Blooming. All you could do: see it, feel it, smell it, luxuriate in it. It was overpowering. Amazing. Yes. Beltane, baby. 

Magnificent: to be alive in the moment, to take it all in through our senses five. So wonderfully Human. So, so Beltane... and what is...

Messages...

I flick on the radio and the coffeemaker, and empty the dishwasher, plates, bowls, mugs, forks, spoons, knives all returned to their usual places.

Two random, unconnected, sentences float in the air, seperated by time and circumstance, and land in my head. I repeat  the words, sort of like a hypnotized, brain-dead zombie. 

I mean, I am waiting for that first sip of brain-reviving coffee brew. These are two totally unrelated, orphan sentences spoken via radio-waves, by different folks, about different topics. It is  only my own tricky little brain that puts the puzzle-pieces together for one inspired thought of great insight & wisdom:

"The is the real world."

AND... then...

"Be present."

Ha. Okay. All right. I get it. Message delivered and received. Roger that!

This Story Will Probably Continue to "Dog" Her...

Sorry. I spend lots of time with dogs. Every kind of breed & disposition. It boggles my mind that someone would brag about shooting a dog, as if it was some kind of positive quality...

This story just doesn't sit well with me.

What brings Red & Blue state America together? 

Well... maybe not so surprisingly... 

Proudly declaring to be a puppy-killer, telling the story in your upcoming book, adding it to your resume, is not exactly a career-enhancing quality. You wonder who encouraged her to include it in her book. Not exactly a courageous, laudable, inspiring act.  Ha.  Not sure how the Governor of South Dakota plans to spin this into winning political gold... I guess we shall see... ha...

What's the Narrative Thru-Line?

Tuned into National Public Radio early this morning. Seems all of the news is a bit corrosive and disconcerting. Trying to be up to date and well-informed has it's downsides. On the one hand, one thinks: "It's good to be aware of what's happening in the world," On the other hand, one thinks: "It's all a bit depressing; the many ways, Human Beings fuck over other Human Beings." There seems to be a narrative thru-line. The follies, the foibles, the flaws, the bad acts, the bad faith, the basic fucked-up-ness of being Human. What to do? I grab another cup of coffee, and put a CD on the music box. This morning it is King Crimson's "Islands," (1971), a strange, uncommon, gorgeous beast of a recording. It ranges across moods and modes. Is it rock, is it Jazz, is it Symphonic, is it Avant Garde? Yes. All of the above. I am reminded of and carried away by melody, harmony, the stubborn beauty, the prodigious creativity of Humans Beings exploring musical vibrations. Already, I'm feeling a bit better, sort of fortified with a renewed focus & energy to engage with a new day.*

*Post-Post-Note: After I wrote the above post, I finished my coffee, finished listening to the recording, took a short walk with a faithful companion in a light rain, had nice breakfast, took a long shower, and thought about the "Consolations" of a Life. I mean, it may be that a well-written and well-sung line, a smartly-composed, well-played collection of songs is a very thin, paltry and inadequate reed of consolation in oppostition to the mad & sad hurly-burly, that fills our days, and often totally consumes us. A brilliantly-conceived work of creativity doesn't erase the long narrative of human fuck-up-ness. Still, it is what we have, maybe all we have, a tiny string of small consolations that helps us get thru a day. A new dawn, a good brew, a nice meal, a warm bed, a hot shower, an engaging book, an inspiring collection of music from around the world, a new rabbit-hole to fall into, a crazy creative obsession to play with, a long day of dreaming and distraction. That's the other side, the sunny-side, the ligh side vs the dark side of that fuck-up-ness. That's it. A tiny thread to keep our heads in the game.

The Really, Really Stupid Part...

Ha. Well. Maybe the stupidest Govenor in America is a Woman,  Kristi Noem, Governor of South Dakota, who bragged about killing her hunting dog, 14 months old, because it was "untrainable." She shot the dog in a gravel pit. A pretty cruel, nasty & dastardly thing to do. I kid you not.

The really stupid part? 

She wrote about the killing in her new book, thinking it was a great example of her being a MAGA, can-do politician, someone who will take on the hard, politically-incorrect, non-woke things necessary for America. Of course, she is vying to be VP for Fat Boy Slime. Supposedly he hates dogs, so who knows, maybe it will appeal to that hollow cretin?

For the rest of us, coldly executing a young dog? Probably one of the of stupidest, most depraved things anyone has ever floated as an honorable and admirable act. Just mind-boggling & pathetic. Should this crazed-admission be a career-killer? Maybe so. Talk about self-sabotage. 

As one who spends lots of time with dogs, it is safe to say that usually, if there are "dog problems," there is a direct line to "owner/people problems."  And, though it seems like it should go without saying, say it I will, if you have a problem with your young dog, maybe think of putting it up for adoption? Let someone else give it a go?

Just a thought.  Yikes. I mean, maybe let's make America a bit kinder and gentler, and a safe, nurturing place for young dogs, and the rest of us too?

Sing, Laugh, Love, Play...

"Who is gonna save us?"

Ha. No one. We are on our own. We have always been on our own. We have to muddle thru our own way. It's a bit disconcerting. You may think that maybe there is a higher power that will guide us, lend us a hand, pull us up on our feet, dust us off, wish us well.  

Nope. Not gonna happen. 

I mean, maybe there is a Higher Power, but it is not concerned with us. Think of the Universe. It's big, it's got other stuff to do. We are just a tiny energy in a vast ocean of energy.

That could be a total buzz-kill. Waiting for a Saviour to swoop down, and make everything right. A fairy tale. Why isn't the Universe about me? Well it just isn't. You are about you.

That's the "reality," of the situation. Let's call it the Human Condition. We are all just Human Beings, stuck on a planet of other Human Beings. None of us have fucking clue, really. We are all pretty much making it up as we go. 

The Life You Save, Will Be Saved By You. But don't let it go to your head. Start with the idea that you know nothing. Be humble, inquisitive, improvisational. And, well, reach out to your fellow Humans, not looking for saving, but looking for fellow travellers, collaborators, lovers & friends.

It really should be liberating, right?! You make Life, you make your  own Life, your own? There are a few guiding principles, they are open-ended, and partial, but they are useful:

Lean to the Light.

Keep your feet on the ground.

Fuck Fear.

Damn the Torpedoes.

Keep your head.

Keep calm, carry on.

Experience Life, don't try to Solve it.

Do the best you can. 

Be kind, gentle, humble.

Listen to Nature. 

Be fucking real.

Sing, Laugh, Love, Play.

WTF?! Skinny Immunity?!?!?

I am sure there will be lots of expert opinions floating in the air after the Supreme Court's "Presidential Immunity" hearing yesterday. 

Here are my very un-expert reflections...

Human Beings. We are damn tricky. We can use logic, reason, rationality and intellectual persuasion to pretty much argue for any position. We all have biases, we all have blind spots, we are all driven by ideologies. Often we start with an idea, an opinion, and then beat the shit of out reality to fit our world-view within a nice, neat, brightly-wrapped, bundle.

Clarity, and common sense can easily be ravaged & swamped. Being "Supreme" doesn't mean excellent. Maybe a bit of an over-reach and misnomer?

Very, very learned, articulate and persuasive Human Beings often sling total unmitigated B.S. They can make a shit-sandwich sound very fine and good.  There are some (at least 3?), real idealogical, radical-right-wing, black-hole assholes on the Supreme Court, no doubt. Getting a peek inside Samuel Alito's brain immediately gave me vertigo, a major headache, a sinking feeling of being trapped inside a hideous hall of mirrors of bad-faith and right-wing B.S. Holy Shite! The word that popped into my head: claptrap = pretentious nonsense.

The hearing was pretty annoying, disconcerting, filled with hurly-burly, legelese, nonsense & head-scratchingly bad faith lawyering. One is reminded that having law degrees, wearing black robes, flaunting gaudy titles, slinging fancy words, holding positions of ultimate legal power does not mean that there is wisdom or good outcomes to be expected.

Just like anything else there is the Human touch: a scrambled omelet of uncertain provenance. Arbitrary, biased, limited, often off-target too. Higher Authorities? Not what they are cracked up to be. Coming to a decision and a ruling will be a nasty wrangling of votes, coming to some kind of  ugly consensus, an unseemly, stinky, compromise. It will for sure be a kluge, a learned clusterfuck, probably a deformed little baby of law that no one is happy with. Yikes.  

What does it all add up to? Delay for the January 6 trial. Uncertainty. And a new concept that may be floated, one that I hadn't heard before: Skinny Immunity (?!?)... what a world... oh so Human. It is amazing we can make it thru day to day... good Lord, we know not what we do...

The Malefactor Vs. The USA...

Funny. 

The first thing I hear on the radio this morning that the Supreme Court they will be hearing the "Presidential Immunity Case," later today.  You know it's the "Donald Trump VS. the United States," case.

What is the first thought that pops up in this concerned citizen's head?

Donald Trump Vs. The United States? Yes. Exactly. 

These Days...

These are our days...

We own them, we live them, we navigate them. We learn that you only get so many of them. The number of days is not unlimited. That is important to know.

We should treasure them. The days in which we live. 

Sometimes the days fly, sometimes they seem to plod along. Some days you count your blessings, some days you catalog your curses.

Living your days to the fullest. Seems the way.

Even if you look upon a day that has just passed and you think: "That was hard. That was a deep slog. Shite. I am exhausted."

Lately, I have had a few of those. Too much "toing and froing." At the end of the day, I know that I just had a day, unlike any of the others, even if in so many ways it resembles so many others.  You know, in one light a slight, paltry, mundane kind of day, filled with simple, repetitive, menial tasks, and, at the same time, in another light, an amazing, wonder-filled day of uncommon sights and sounds.  One of my precious days. Weird dichotomy at work there.

Days of wine and roses, and days of slogs, and curses... 

That's life. Well-lived to the max. The power, the glory, and the just getting thru in one piece.

2 Rules for Good Living...

We live in affluent neighborhood. We aren't affluent ourselves, we are basically "hangers on," folks, living on the margins, living "above our station."  You know, we are hanging on, and hanging in. It's a great neighborhood, near a massive midwestern lake, with lots of beautiful trees, parks, beaches, and magnificent old homes, located near a big, sprawling University campus. Pretty nice. Our town. Diverse. Prosperous.  Well-educated.

Turns out living in an affluent neighborhood, around lots of well-educated people,  is good for our health. 

Why would this be so? Kind of simple and logical, really...

 "It turns out nearly the entire effect is due to two things: less smoking and less obesity. Of these, smoking has by far the biggest impact."

It's funny. Taking hot smoke into one's lungs never seemed like a good idea, or made much sense. And being around folks who smoke has always been annoying and uncomfortable. Such a nasty habit. And well, being smart about what you eat, and how much you eat, always seemed like a good bet too. Picky, choosy, eating sensibly, leaning to healthy, organic, primarily plant-based, sustenance, sure. Eat less, move more.

Simple, common-sense, easy to follow rules for better living. I mean, like, right?! Who knew?! So yeah, where we live, there are very few smokers to be found. They stick out like a particularly retrograde tribe. Furtively puffing away in isolation. 

And, well, in our hood there are an uncountable number of runners, yoga practitioners, tai chi folks, bicylists, roller bladers, skate-boarders, wind surfers, swimmers, power-walkers, etc. And there is an infinite variety of excellent, healty-fare, restaurants dotted & dashed around town. So yeah, an active populace with excellent food choices around every corner. An abundance of abundance.

I think of that Herman Melville idea from one of his merchant sailing books: Be careful who you choose to hang out with. If you live up the in crow's nest, or down the in the hold, you will be defined by what you choose to do and who you choose to hang with. Our pocketbook and bank account may say, "down in the hold," but our hearts, heads & spirits declare: "Crow's nest, baby!" 

Clarity in simplicity.

The Way of the Way...

"It's only going one way."

That's a line my friend and I often kick around in conversation. Funny. We marvel at the twists and turns of our lives. Decisions made. Pivot points. Roads taken, and roads not taken. We are sort of surprised at how we ended up together, and  find ourselves living in the right now. It didn't seem like a plan, it seemed like we sort of stumbled along into a life. Life is long, life is short. Life is life. Still, weirdly, at the same time, it all sort of seems like fate. Maybe an arbitrary fate? You can imagine other scenarios. Other decisions. Other roads. But you are left with what happened, and what is. Could it really have gone any other way? Were we always fated to do what we did? Is there a long chain of causality, that is certain and in a way fixed?  Or is life and the choices we made just certain takes on a vast sea of possibilities? Do we roll  the dice every moment? Is everything luck & chance, and our present condition just one of an infinite number of possible outcomes?  Is everything always up for grabs? Moment to moment? Or was there only, inevitably one way forward? I mean, fuck, that's a heady topic for a morning post. I mean who knows?! Welcome to another day in paradise...

"Hello Wig!"

Up early. Rough night. Wrestling with demons. Flick the radio on as I fire up the coffee-maker. The BBC radio program asks me: "What would you do if you had to shave your head?" That's a good one. Seems like the least of our worries, but, well, actually, every day is bound by: "Is it a good haird-day or a bad hair-day?" So, yeah, well, I guess in the face of mandatory "head-shaving,"  the plain, conscise and clear answer would be,"Hello wig!" Improvise. Maintain. Deal with the deal. That's life...

As Real As You Possibly Can Be...

If there is Hope it resides in reality, in the real, in the day to day, the common folk, the simple moments, moments of clarity, the smiles of a friend, the sparks from a friendly eye, the kind, genuine laughter escaping from the lips of those you love.

The small gestures, the tiny kindnesses. 

Hope, it is there, alive in our hearts and heads. It doesn't need to be grand, in fact, that's a fool's game, better to keep your Hopes close to the vest, close to the ground. And for god's sake: Damn the  Fear.  You know, Fuck Fear. That is "Dead Man Walking."  No way to live a life.

Hope. It's okay to Hope. Sure there is the chance Hope gets crushed, but that's just the way the cookie crumbles. It's best to be real. As real as you possibly can be, and damn the torpedoes. That is the way to a certain glory.

Counter-Programming, Not So Counter...

Counter-programming. 

So yeah, there is the historical/cultural/social/political zeitgeist we all swim in every day. Can't stop the swirl of news & madness. We are all captives of a certain time and place. Some of us just want to "get along," but it's clear that in the Human realm that just isn't the way. It's a war out there. There are real, deadly, bloody, totally tragic shooting-wars unfolding across the planet. In my life-time, there has always been a war, or multiple wars, usually raging somewhere across the globe. The death and destruction affects us all. We are definitely all connected. Human, and a bit fucked up, at war with each other by any means.

War is war. 

Politics is war. 

Culture is war. 

Love is war. 

The legal system is war. 

There are always adversaries, competing interests, good actors vs bad actors. Those who want to pull us together, those who want to pull us apart. "Why can't we all just get along?" Who knows? We just can't. We don't see eye to eye. We want different things. We have competing visions and beliefs. As it was once said in a famous black & white movie about war: "Everyone has their reasons." Right. Even if they aren't reasonable reasons.

You can't make everyone see it your way. That's just a reality. So yeah, counter-programming. I have been reading a 555 page poem by Lord Byron written between 1819-1824. It's quite entertaining. I thought it was going to be a bear to read, and a real slog, but actually it's quite a fun and witty read. The poem has just taken a major turn from Love to War. And it all rings so true, and familiar.

I suppose the real eye-opener. Humans are Humans. Same flaws, passions, madnesses across time and place. Consumed with Love and War. Always. That is the Human Story. Seems it has always been the theme. We have different clothes and new gadgets, but the Human Heart, the Human Story, Comedy & Tragedy, has a consistent and persistant thru-line. It turns out that my counter-programming, isn't so counter after all. Love & War and everything in between. Yep.

Lessons from Dog-Land...

I spend lots of time with dogs. Some days more time with dogs than people. I must admit, I'm getting a bit wild, unkempt & feral myself. A bit "doggie."

So what's the vibe? What are the lessons from dog-land? 

Attention. We all want attention. And treats. And a bit of rough-housing. Truth be told we want to be the center of the Universe, but maybe we know it's a foolish impulse? Too much going on. We are easily distracted by... well... pretty much everything...  passing cars, squirrels, rabbits, other dogs, humans on bikes and scooters, a heavy wind, a mild rain, a sunny day. We really, really, really want to get up-close and personal with a squirrel or a rabbit. It's the holy grail of dog-land.

Attention and distraction are big in our world.

Meals are party time. Treats rule. We will eat just about anything. Don't ask. Yikes. We are loyal, (feed me, give me treats, be nice to me, and I will follow you any & every where), and consistent. We like a varied routine. We love to walk. We live in the moment, from moment to moment. There is a bit of ZEN in every dog. We are easily satisfied. Tend to be happy, feisty, we might worry a bone, but really not worried about anything, except maybe being left out of the action. Home alone. Ruff.

All the dogs I hang with are "fixed," (ouch!), so sex is off the table. Wow. A big past-time off the menu. Opens up other possibilities. Digging holes. Getting dirty. Sniffing. Always be sniffing. Peeing on fire-hydrants. Yes. It's a thing. Marking a trail, one pee at a time: "Kilgore was here."

Enthusiastic for living. Sometimes we just want to roll around on the ground. Or wrestle with the leash. Or leap and bark at the world for no particular reason. Run. Play. Eat. Sleep. Scratch & yowl. A dog's life.

Wrestlemania for the Politcally Inept...

Yes. I am happy & gratified that a very large, toxic, loud, supremely annoying fat man, prone to lies both big and small, has to sit in a courtroom and face the music. There is a long list of very serious charges he must answer for in New York City. Karma, baby!

It seems it is only within the four walls of a courtroom, with a no-nonsense Judge and a process for sitting a jury, that toxic-fat boy and his unrelenting river of bullshit, finally meets common sense, decency & gravity. The rule of law. Of course, outside the courtroom chaos rules. Everywhere that man goes it's bullshit, lies, stupidity, meanness, racism, misogyny, a shit-show, a clusterfuck. Wrestlemania for the politically inept.

The TV (network & cable) is a stupid-making machine. No doubt. Do yourself a favor and turn that shite off! Everything becomes a TV show. A very stupid, corrosive TV show.

You know, if you wrestle with a toxic, muddy, pig, you too will be slimed. That has been a theme for what seems like forever. A rule for  a better life: Avoid the toxic-muddy pig at all costs. One hopes America will finally turn away from the madness, ignorance and chaos. Is that asking for too much?

The only hope for toxic fat boy? They somehow luck into seating a toxically-sociopathic cretin on the jury. Certainly the facts, the evidence, the truth of the matter resides on the prosecution side. No one seriously seems to be really entertaining the idea that the man is innocent. Even his attorneys aren't making that case. It's all about "how dare they" treat my client like a common criminal?

I mean, truth be told, my mind is made up. I could not be fair and impartial. Guilty as fuck bubbles up in my head.

You know, presumed innocent, until proven guilty. Right. It's the way it's supposed to work, but knowing what we know, you know, we know. Safe to say, there is not an innocent cell or bone in the that tubby body. No way. Karma is a rock. 

"The Lonliness of the Long Distance Runner" - Alan Sillitoe

"It's not politics, it's pathology."

I'm quoting myself this morning. Is that twisted?

Funny how a segment of our population has gone over the cliff: "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." 

I think one of the most significant and useful University classes I ever took was "Abonormal Psychology." My post-graduate studies of the abnormal in action seem be validated and roll out every damn day. It is easy to see the madness in others. Maybe less easy to see the madness in ourselves. But we can try.

Human Beings are a gnarly lot for sure: complicated, contradictory, disappointing, infuriating, You know, the tricky monkeys. Often we trick ourselves with the stupidest shite.

So yes, we end up with the Humanity of it all: Tragedy, Comedy, and Insanity. Some days you really want to extricate yourself from the fucking crazy herd. "In it, but not of it." But, of course, that is impossible. 

It's like that song: "Stuck in the Middle with you..." Yikes.

Perfectly Human...

"Trying for Zen Perfection."

Let's dissect this sentence. 

1. There is no trying. There is doing, or not doing. Also doing well, doing badly, doing middiling. 

2. Zen. It descends upon us. Like the rain, or like sun & moon beams. You can't conjure it up on demand.

3. Perfection? Ah, well, maybe a bit of a fool's paradise, a mythical chimera flashing just out of reach? Especailly in the human realm.

Being perfectly human would contain multitudes of contradiction, flaw, foible, nonsense. 

Is the Universe perfect? Maybe. Since it contains everything.  I mean who is big enough to  challenge that idea or quibble?

A flower, a mosquito, a river, a star. Sure, glimpses of perfection, reflected in the human eye. That's as close as you can get.

Sisyphus: Guitar on Shoulder, Pushing a Boulder...

Played a r&r show last night in a dive bar. Big chaos guitar jam at the end, four electric guitars cranked to the limit, and one electric bass holding down the low-end, playing up a storm on Neil Young's  "Down by the River," & "Rocking in the Free World." Two great guitar-based songs, epic chords and changes. Total raunchy, gory, greasy, r&r glory. It was incredibly exhilarating to play, not sure how great it was to listen to. Oh well. So it goes. 

Came across this quote from Roger Daltry about playing a live show with The Who back in the late sixties, early 70's, The Who in peak form, (prime example #1: "Live at Leeds" - 1970), probably one of the greatest live acts (I  am talking about when Entwistle & Moon were still alive), ever to grace a stage...

"A bum note and a bead of sweat."

Yes. After all the noise, hurly-burly, epic glory, razor sharps riffs, overwhelmingly powerful major & minor chords, next morning you wake up in a bit of a haze. Hey, how was the gig? Well, basically "a bum note and a bead of sweat." 

Think Sisyphus with a guitar on his shoulder, pushing a boulder...

Reality? Yes. Certainly.

"However, this view does not align with reality."

Short line. Big type. 

I came across this sentence this morning. It is in reference to an upcoming trial in NY. It's not necessary to get into the details. Rest assured, it will be a circus and a freak-show, but also a reckoning. At least, that's how it appears to me, if evidence, facts & reality still hold. You know, sort like gravity & common sense.

I suppose it's a big IF, but I throw my lot in with that certain reality.

Funny. That sentence could be a judgement of so much of our Social/Political/Cultural zeitgeist at the fricking moment. The Relentlessly annoying BABEL of rabble-rousing voices floating views on pretty much every issue and event.  Views that do "not align with reality."

It a noisy Terrordome of Shite.  We can tune it out. Keep our heads, keep our feet on the ground, keep our eyes on the prize, lean to the light and damn the torpedoes. "Give me something real."

The Street/The Mansions of the Mind...

Dichotomies. Life: filled with them. 

Up/down, Good/Evil, Love/Hate, Light/Dark, Hope/Despair, you know, the list goes on forever. That is the Universe we live in. We are always traversing, juggling, maneuvering and wrestling with dicotomies.

My days: I live with dogs, I live like a dog. A bit feisty, feral, unkempt, wild, feet firmly knocking down the dirty boulevard. Turns out I'm best hanging with the animal kingdom: dogs, cats, birds. Domesticated & wild. They rise to greet me, I kneel down to greet them.

At the same time, living in the lap of luxury. The finest places money can buy. Living in other people's homes for extended stays. Just a guest, a visitor, a caretaker, a hanger-on.  But also the lucky gent who gets  to spend lots of time at perfectly appointed, tricked-out, exotically-gorgeous estates. A prime place of pride & priviledge, for sure.

Yes. The street/the mansion.  Two opposed realms. Alive in both. Super-weird, and well, really, kind of cool. 

"You have to lose..." - J. Tweedy

Yes. You must still your warring mind. How to do it? Plunge into life, elbows flying, legs and arms akimbo, blood, sweat, tears, and laughter sparking off you like microscopic galaxies. 

Leave the judging, the fretting, the worrying behind. 

Jeff Tweedy once sang: 

"It's a war on war

It's a war on war

It's a war on war

There's a war on

You're gonna lose

You have to lose

You have to learn how to die"

Right. A warring mind is a losing path. "Learning how to die?" Well, you know, maybe in the metaphorical sense. We used to call those warring, gnarly episodes a growth period.  Something dies, so something new can emerge and live. Maybe even a new you? You let something go, maybe let everything go, hit bottom, and start again. Drop one mask, one snake-skin, and put on a new one. Maybe you end up not totally renewed & refreshed, but at least, sort of, leaning that way...

Existential Crisis One Day at a Time...

It is funny. I can be propelled into an existential crisis at the drop of a hat. I put on a sunny face most of the time, but deep down inside my of being are earthquakes, hurricanes, tornados, tsunamis. It is quite the interesting life-style. So yes, even seemingly fun, amazing, entertaining and entrancing events like the solar eclipse (see previous post), can, at the same time, send me into a spin, a deeply confounding spin. I can be prompted to massive out-pourings of emotion and I pose to myself a long string of unanswerable questions. Yes. There are the mysteries and complexties of a life. I can be sort of self-crucified on that cross. I find myself wrestling with my own mind.  "It's a draw!" I don't know, I suppose I just chalk it all up to being Human. It's just me being me. Gnarly, knotty, always questioning. Never completely answering.

Confronted by the Monolith...

Yes. The solar eclipse (see previous post), was pretty amazing. We lucked out, we sat in long, comfortable, lounger-type chairs, in a sunny, blue-sky sanctuary, with a litle furry critter, surrounded by trees, chattering birds, gorgeous sunshine. Armed with our funny little glasses we could look up and see the progress of the moon across the face of the sun. We were both exhausted for various reasons, my companion was more excited than I about the event, but there was no denying we were both watching an extraordinary happening. Beyond the confines of our sanctuary, the lakefront was alive with all variety of pilgrams, armed with their own glasses, looking up. 

As it all unfolded the birds went silent. There was a hush in the air. At one point it was like that Dylan line: "Darkness at the break of noon..." At the 90 percentile phase, it got sort of suddenly cold. There were eerie shadows alive in the light. Definitely not a normal afternoon.

Just like anything else, probably best to just experience it, not judge or analyse, or god forbid, ask: "Why?"As per that Van Morrison song, "There ain't no why, it just is..." 

Right. There are the explanations, the logistics, the mechanics, the physics, the science; all the rotations and positionings, and etc. Still, I had this sense in the back of my mind, "Shouldn't we all be falling to the ground, in stunned wonder & awe?" You know, sort of like those early ancestors  of ours depicted in Stanely Kubricks' "2001 a Space Oddessey."  (1968), confronted with the inconcievable strangeness of the Monolith? Godsmackingly amazing, confounding, weird, uncommon, otherworldy. I suppose at the least this eclipse reminds us of the ungodly, overwhemling, confounding, inhuman power of Nature & the Universe. We are children of the Universe. We come from "star-stuff" ourselves. So very strange. I chalked it up to another unlikely example of our general human thing: "Don't know Jack-shit."

So, yes, just like many of the other humans, we took in the event, we consumed it moment to moment. Cheap thrills, amazing show. The deeper implications of it all? A yawning, wonderous, head-exploding mystery. We kept our heads together. We experienced it. That's life. Lived experiences. One glorious, mysterious, unexplainable moment at a time.

Off the Wheel...

Monday morning. Hands off the wheel. Let's see what happens. Later this afternoon our plan is to put on those funny-looking glasses and check out the Total Solar Eclipse. Big-time nature show. Don't need no ticket, just get on-board.

A Salty, Crusty, Gnarly Duo...

I happily go the alternative path. The road less travelled.

You know, I don't care about the latest trend, or worry about fitting in with my fellow humans. Happy to be myself. I am always marching to my own inner drum circle; I find myself madly spinning in wavering circles. 

Lately, I am obsessed with two dead, white men: Lou Reed & Lord Byron. A salty, crusty, gnarly duo for sure. They were two very different, and distinctive artists, both poets, both controversial, non-conformist, both pushing against the currents of their social circles. Both known for pursuing the road of excess, and systematically engaging in a decidedly professional debauchery. 

They both became famous or infamous for doing their own things their own ways. Both had a brilliant, fiery, uncommon, inspiring talent for slinging words in a provocative, enlightening, comical & musical fashion. They both lived wild, sometimes hard, always eventful lives. They both pissed off lots of folks. They had their enemies, their critics, their axes to grind. They both wielded those axes with verve and gusto.

I have been living in their worlds. Especially sinking into their last works. Lou's fabulously wordless, "Hudson River Wind Meditations," (2007), and Byron's  abundantly wordy poem "Don Juan," (1819- 1824).

What a great combo. I am totally blown away by both works. 

Lou's music was created just for his own purposes. The purest kind of artistic expression. He created a musical accompaniment to his long-time Tai Chi, Yoga and Meditation practice. Deeply soothing & totally mesmerizing & entrancing, looping, pulsing, drones. The sound waves immediately work to synchronize your heartbeat and brainwaves. So fabulous, healing, inspiring, deeply rewarding. Yesterday, I spent most of the morning with our little 3 bird flock in meditation in our sun-room, with Lou's album as the soundtrack. All of us immediately found an inner peace & zoned out together into a deep, enriching mindfulness. Birds of a feather flock together. 

And Lord Byron? What to say about his rollicking, overwhelming lyrical-narrative, adventurous and satirical poem? It is hilarious, rambunctious, surprisingly easy to read. Entertaining, subversive, provocative, (even today), the words seems to flow effortlessly from his pen. I was worried I wouldn't be able to track with it, but it's actually quite the easily-flowing, fabulously-engaging journey. Lord Byron was a man well out his time. He broke all the social rules of British Aristocracy. Loved & hated. He was a free-thinker, a free-spirit, a man on fire with passion, aflame with contradiction, armed with the saboteur-inside furiously spinning like an artful demon. 555 pages of lyrical rhyming poetry? Yikes. Seems impossible. So out of time and otherwordly. Nope. It is all quite brilliant. The humanity of it all is so familiar, it rings so true, loud and clear. Resonant. Throws off sparks every which way. Lord Byron definitely speaks to me from another time and place. And his wild-ass story is utterly convincing, because we know he lived the life he so vividly conjures up.

Anyway, yes. My own drum, my own drummers. Happy & rewarded by chasing after my own weird obessions. Safe to say, great art changes us, consumes us, reconstitutes us, enriches and expands us. It is an uncommonly rare & good thing. Fine art created by supremely complicated characters. The power of words and sounds, the power of an artistic heart. I happily roll down my own gnarly path with two extraordinary, inspiring co-consipirators & co-pilots.

Frailties & Uncertainties...

A follow-up to yesterday's post...

We don't know what we don't know, and, what we do know, or think we know, is partial, arbitrary, and up for revision. We float in a sea of possibilities, and an ocean of responsibilities, armed with our frailties, and our deep uncertainties.

It's a precarious position to be in, but it is where we live. Welcome to the Dollhouse and the Thunderdome.

Case in point. This morning, I come across an eye-opening, head-exploding article about Death. You'd think by now we'd know what death is,  I mean, that is what you'd think, but you'd be wrong. Turns out Death, more particularly, Brain-Death, is still a very fertile subject of inquiry. Maybe in it's early infancy of study? Scientists are still diligently doing their Scientific thing. The jury is out. It's all up for grabs.

Weird? Right? You mean even Death & Consciousness are murky, nebulous phenomena that we don't fully understand? Really? 

Yeah, well, how about this for a morning brain-twister, mind-teaser?

“I think in 50 or 100 years time we will have discovered the entity that is consciousness,” he told me. “It will be taken for granted that it wasn’t produced by the brain, and it doesn’t die when you die.”

"That is a key tenet of the parapsychologists’ arguments: if there is consciousness without brain activity, then consciousness must dwell somewhere beyond the brain. Some of the parapsychologists speculate that it is a “non-local” force that pervades the universe, like electromagnetism. This force is received by the brain, but is not generated by it, the way a television receives a broadcast."

Freaky-Deaky, right. Makes me think of that Firesign Theater line: "Everything You Know is Wrong." Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Good morning Campers!

Figure Things that Just Don't Figure...

"Making sense out of things that don't make sense."  It's a theme.

Yes. I seem to spend lots of my time doing the above. What a clusterfuck of a life.  The wheels are furiously spinning in my head as I try to figure out things that just don't figure.

Like they say, "Chasing shadows." 

Or watching shadows playing on a wall in a little hermetic cave, thinking that those wavering shadows are the freaking world in it's complete entirety.

The Universe doesn't have to "make sense." It doesn't have to be rational, or logical. It doesn't anwser to anything, it doesn't have to explain itself to Human Beings. All those games of logic and rationality and making sense are just the very Human games we Humans play.

And often, we Human Beings, Children of the Universe, are actually playing a different game, a game of irrationality, illogic, nonsensical, ridiculous, off-target, filled with crazy-ass ideas, weird dreams & delusions. We pretend to go thru the motions of logic and rationality, but often it's a bluff and a sideshow, or deep misunderstanding.

Funny. Ofen we are Lost Souls furiously wrestling with our own imagined demons. What a life.

"You Are Here..."

Where are we? If you are a reader you may have a clue. Funny how Science Fiction is just a little bit of forward-thinking, and future-casting. The best of it sees the present moment and scoots it forward a bit. Certainly of these books, Orwell's "1984" had the biggest, earliest influence on me. Even as a Wee Lad, I could see myself as an American born & bred, Winston Smith. Today? This little diagram seems very on-target. Unfortunately...

Into the Mystic...

Head in the clouds, feet on the ground, dog nipping at my heels, precariously close to a cliff. You know, a bit of that Holy Fool Vibe.

That's me. I'm one of those Humans who dream my dreams at the same time that I'm kicking down the cobblestones, navigating the obstacles of a day. Juggling dichotomies and paradoxes at every turn and corner.

I do believe we live in a Grand & Wonderful Universe, a place that is also crushing, deadly, and super-destructive to everything that lives. Although, now that I think of it, everything is energy, so all this living, dying, dreaming, crashing, creating & destroying is just energy at play.

I once came up with a line,  I used it in a song, I think it's my own invention: "Everything that Lives is Holy, AND, Life is Cheap."

That is how it all "feels" to me. And we have to live with it. I think Life is a Mystery. We are free to apply our minds, our logic, reason, Science, Philosophy, Religion, Pop Cultural Psychology to it all, but none of it is totally sastisfying. 

Nothing Explains Everything. All knowledge seems partial. As Wm Blake once put it, we are Prisoners of our Senses Five. Being Human means we are veiled. There is the Cloud of Knowing and the The Cloud of Unknowing. They contend with each other, answer each other, and reconstitute and sometimes vanish in the face of a healthy breeze.

The closer we examine things the more we know;  the more we know, the more we realize that what we know is limited, paltry, just an exploration of a deeper and greater unknowing. Humility helps to get your head around that.

Being a Mystic. Heading into the Mystic. That's the tune, the groove, the vibe. I say ride it, live it for all it's worth. It's up to us.

Cooler Heads, Calmer Nerves...

We are in weird cycle. As Teri Kanefield tells it, we are enraptured , engulfed, and held in the clutches of the Outrage Machine. Yes, there is an industry of Outrage. It is a chaos-agent, and a lucrative business model. Right, Left. The Outrage is ubiquitous and unavoidable.

Sure, there is plenty to be outraged about, but instead of going to the well to hype it up to the max, probably smarter and healthier, to take a breath, sit in silence, try to think, reason, and understand what the fuck is going down. The Outrage disables your higher thinking functions. Intelligence & your intellectual impulse vanishes. You become helpless and malleable to a fiery emotional palette. The Outrage is a tool for profit, and also a political weapon.  It is a weapon of mass destruction. I think many of us are now addicted to outrage. We fly to the outrage like moths to the flame.

 A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

There is so much B.S. floating in the air. Every damn day. What is a poor, humble Pilgrim to do? Maybe find a bit of amusement?  You don't have to go there. Really. 

So yeah, we are all pushing each others buttons, making each other crazy with the crazy.  So silly & stupid. I say fuck the Outrage. It is all too much. It's really too funny for words. We are intentionally making each other very stupid Human Beings. It's all quite ridiculous & stupefying.

The Purveryors of the Outrage and total B.S. count on us being lazy, docile, easily hyped up and swayed by nonsense. We don't have to play the game. Turn your B.S. Detector up on high, turn up your amusement, sit back and watch the show, or better yet, retreat to a sunny glade, a peaceful oasis, and marvel  & wonder at the madness, and willful ignorance of your fellow Humans who gladly & willlingly outrage themselves over the cliff. 

Hah... we need cooler heads, calmer nerves. Yes. Find that inner belly laugh. And let it out, Captain...

Directed Sleeping...

Sleeping. It should be easy. It is oh so necessary. For me it's used to be quite easy. I could sleep anywhere any time. I famously fell asleep in Las Vegas on a jaunt with a couple folks watching Sam Peckinpah's "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Gargia," in a crowded, bustling hotel room. That's some epic sleeping right there.

Li'l Abner was a mattress tester. That's a job I could have done at the drop of an eyelid.

Over the years sleeping has become more of a rollicking adventure. Not so easy anymore. Everything needs to be just so. Soft pillow, not so hard mattress, soothing music, boring book, a bit of a ritual to get my head clear and down-shift the energy zapping thru my body.

Plus, I sleep around town. A cornucopia of beds all around town. Every variety imaginable. Some of those beds are comfy nests, some not so comfy.

I started taking inventory. I noticed I was sleeping better in certain directions. It got me thinking that the direction one slept in was important. Is that true? I asked the Great Google and came up with various answers and recommendations. I mean there is nothing clear-cut. Just lots of suggestions.

I settled on this: " According to Vastu Shastra one should avoid sleeping with their head towards North or West. A more preferred direction to sleep in should be with your Head towards South or East and your Feet towards North and West."

So, yesterday, my partner and I moved the bed. We flipped it around from a North/South direction to a East/West direction. Head in the East, Feet in the West.  We both took our shoes off and hopped on the bed. Suddenly it just seemed so much more comfortable. Really. Is there any Science to back up this idea?

"The Scientific explanation for this suggestion being that the Earth’s geographical North pole is a Positive pole and the geographic south pole is the negative pole. A human’s head being like the positive side of a magnet and feet being negative side of a magnet, should be aligned in the direction of the flow of the charge or magnetic field in this scenario of the Earth."

Yeah. Well. Who knows?! I'm gonna experiment. And see what happens. I took the tip and improvised based on the room and my mood. I want to sleep with my Head in the East, and my feet in the West. Makes sense to me. Last night was good. I slept soundly. "There's a feeling I get when I look to the West..." Hmmm, sleeping well, problem solved?! Well,who knows, we shall see, one can only dream & scheme...