The Fairy Godfather

I hate to "rush" to judgement, but....

2009-10-10T19:55:00.000-07:00

I think the Miss America Pageant should have tossed it in after the eighties. This is the kind of contestant I wish they'd have, and someone I miss. Listen to the words

Whiny Holier-than-thou Carrie Prejean doesn't hold a candle to the truly Divine.

The revelation this week that Rush Limbaugh will be a judge in the annual Atavistic Ritual Meat Market we all know as the Miss America Pageant this year somehow doesn't surprise me.

ST. LORI'S CHURCH OF YODA

2009-04-14T18:18:00.000-07:00

And the Band Skank! will be playing all afternoon......

At Long Last ...Disgracing the Family Name, by Skafish

2008-11-30T15:15:00.000-08:00

This song helped me survive adolescence. Not as angry, not as bitter as I once was. Thanks for the catharsis, Jim Skafish. I still love this song

Even though these days, I am making the family name.......

Faust IV Giggy Smile and Lauft...

2008-07-15T19:44:00.000-07:00

Music is an essential part of my life, and I have a few cd's which are the soundtrack for my current move. I'm really enjoying one of my all time favorites Faust IV by Faust - the album that gave us the song Krautrock, naming the genre which includes Can, Kraftwerk, NEU! and Tangerine Dream...check out TonTon Mahood in the links for more on this genre, until then, here is a vid to give you a taste of this brilliant group.

Coming Soon-

2008-07-15T19:28:00.000-07:00

I've been looking for an apt, and it looks like I am going to be busy the next 2 weeks. So I may not have time to publish the posts I have started, but Fear Not! The Duke will return by early August, and if I get a Sunday afternoon free I'll try to polish something and get it up...Thanks for your patience and loyalty...

Till then send my gal Phyllis some love and light... I here she is recovering from a broken hip!

The Pruits of Southhampton Opening...

Did you know Phyllis is a gifted classical pianist?

And from her farewell performance, if you haven't seen Goodnight, We love you - CHECK IT OUT!

Secret Origin of SNICKS!

2008-05-08T21:03:00.000-07:00

I first became aware of the young man known to the world as Snicks a few years ago, when I subscribed to my first ever blog (see link section for Snicks!) after meeting him at a secret lodge (the Concilium Campus Foculus) where we are both initiates. Truly a modern renaissance man, his stellar example of blog Godhood led me to abandon MySpace and xanga for Blogspot in the first place. His take on pop culture, his tastes in 80's New Wave and other music, and his wit are legendary. Although I miss his Snick's Lost 80's, Snicks (a High Priest of WhiteWingedDovism) has been spreading his white wings a bit further these days stimulating brain cells and humor at the same time.

He's been writing for AfterElton, has assembled a playground with his family, (an eerie yet sublime dreamscape, certain to inspire the kiddies of today with a view of the world through a funhouse looking glass, darkly), monitored truly heinous plastic surgery disasters and political candidates, exemplifies the perfect role-model for uncles and pet-lovers, Tilda Swinton promotion, and male-enhancement expose's, yet still manages to keep us apprised of the most interesting reflections of the world around us, supplying the most interesting pop-culture apocrypha available on the web.

One might ask, then, who is Snicks...and how does he do it?

Some say it is his devotion to WhiteWingedDovism, a modern offshoot of the ancient Keltic Traditions following Rhiannon, Goddess of Horses in the Welsh Mabinogian. Growing up, young Snicks led a somewhat sheltered life. Although young Snicks dreamed of a career in wrestling, and simply being in the lockerroom caused his red american blood to throb in his veins, he was dismissed as too "bookish" by many of the young men he dreamed of challenging "on the mat".

One night, alone in his room, Snicks was dancing in his underwear with the lights off. The light of the full moon cast his dancing shadow on the wall as a haunting sound reached his ears... whoo, baby, whoo, baby, whoo... Grabbing his robe, Snicks ran to the hall "Me, baby, me, baby, me?" he cried aloud, thrown back by a blast of salty welsh air and a fluttering of white wings.

Snicks, his robe in tatters, slowly turned, and a vision of the Goddess Rhiannon loomed above him.

" Well I see you doing... What I try to do for me With the words from a poet... And a voice from a choir And a melody... nothing else mattered"

"Believe in your dreams", she cooed. "Carpe Diem, joke' em if they can't take a fuck, and get out there and have fun!"

"It's like I always say...just like the white winged dove... Sings a song... Sounds like shes singing... Ooo baby... ooo... said ooo Just like the white winged dove... Sings a song... Sounds like shes singing... Ooo baby... ooo... said ooo.

and, umm, take this gift and spread the word, Snicks, my favorite child.....

"Ummmm, What?" Snicks said, grabbing a handful of Funyuns. Then, suddenly, the light faded and Snicks stood standing in the hall, his tattered blue robe draped artfully from his desklamp, and a faint scent of Gypsy Rose perfume and onion powder lingering in the air. Snicks looked everywhere, but the only lamp left on in the house was his desk lamp, a blue lamp.

And indeed, Snicks has carried the message of the white winged dove in his heart, demonstrating it in his actions each and every day. The guys in the locker room notice the twinkle in his eye, the spring in his step. And though he masquerades as a mild mannered library consultant by day, he entertains the world by night and weekend at blogspot and AfterElton, keeping the world safe for free expression, small animals, children and snack products everywhere. If you read only one other blog today, read Snicks. And Then check out his awesomely kick-ass articles at AfterElton. Trust me, you'll never look at South Park, Urban Myths, or snack foods the same way again.

see the links for Snicks amazing Blogspot blog and his AfterElton Blog Go! Now!

Coming Attraction......

2008-05-08T12:34:00.001-07:00

the secret origin of snicks...

Mark Kjeldsen, the lost voice of Power Pop

2008-05-08T00:47:00.000-07:00

Music, when soft voices die
Vibrates in the memory -
~Percy Bysshe Shelley

A few posts down I wrote about the Sinceros, one of the great overlooked power-pop bands of all time. Mark Kjeldsen, the man who fronted the group wrote most of their songs. He had one of the most beautiful voices in power-pop, vibrantly illuminating the songs he wrote for the Sinceros and on a 7' single he released. Falling In and Out of Love, from Pet Rock, simply sparkles, and was later covered by Tracy Ullman. There is more on the net these days about the Sinceros than there used to be, but still little is known about what happened to this band. The band was poorly promoted, it seems, and whispers of creative differences can be found. The sad discovery that Mark died of AIDS in the 1990's after working as a cabbie in Holland, comes across as a mere footnote in articles at Wikipedia and the few places you will find if you search for him.

For what it's worth, it's more than a footnote to me. I was living in a small Kansas town when the New Wave was at it's height, though I was fortunate (and resourceful) enough to find the music I discovered through Saturday Night Live, HBO's Video Jukebox, Rolling Stone magazine and the Readers Guide to Periodical Literature ( yes there were information resources before the Internet) through mail order, and trips to Lawrence and KC (and God love my Mother for helping me find it. She didn't understand the music, but she understood how important it was to me). And so I had New Wave, I had the Sinceros, and Pet Rock inspired me to hang in there and be true to myself and I felt free, and hopeful.

Mark Kjeldsen was a beautiful man, and he made beautiful music. The spark his music nurtured in me, and in others, lives on. New Wave for me was the promise of new beginnings in a world which felt isolated and far from the world I wanted , and the lesson that life is full of new beginnings, if we have the eyes to see it. Power Pop, indeed.

Check out the link to the outstanding blog Vinyl Goldmine for both Sinceros albums and Mark Kjeldsens solo single.

Here's Memory Lane, and Falling In and Out of Love, from Pet Rock, may it inspire something wonderful in you as well.

Memory Lane

Falling In and Out of Love

Vinyl Goldmine's Sinceros post w/ links to the complete albums and Mark's single.

Vinyl Goldmine's Sincero's Post

Quote of the Day

2008-05-06T23:51:00.000-07:00

"Religion used to be the opiate of the masses, now it's the crack cocaine of assassins"
- Lydia Lunch

Paisley Park was in his mind... but it was also a Family Affair

2008-04-23T18:17:00.000-07:00

The eighties were an interesting time for the man from Minneapolis known at various times as Prince, Prince Rogers Nelson, that ostentatious and ultimately annoying symbol, and eventually, back to just Prince. He started the decade with the brilliant troika of Dirty Mind, Controversy and the double LP 1999, which launched him to superstardom. Hot on the heels of 1999, the movie and album Purple Rain cemented his stature as a musical genius. He reveled in creating controversy and a baffling whirl of uncertainy about how much was his work, and who did what. Was he or wasn't he really Jamie Starr, engineer on Dirty Mind, producer of The Time and Vanity Six, derided by Prince himself on 1999's dancefloor classic D.M.S.R?

As Alexander Nevermind he wrote the delightfully risque Sugar Walls for Sheena Easton. There's no doubt the man is a bona fide musical genius, though he had the advantage of having excellent musicians to work with as well. Some of the projects which burst from the Prince scene were clearly Prince projects with guest vocals, (most notably Vanity Six), others such as the Time had first rate musicians behind the helm (in this case Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis) who generally didn't last long in the world of his Royal Purpleness. Jam and Lewis went on to success producing R&B hits for S.O.S Band, Cherelle, and Alexander O'Neal, ousted from the Time early on to be replaced by Prince pal Morris Day. Other people ousted from the early Prince phalanx included the very talented Andre Cymone (out after Controversy), Dez Dickerson, even Vanity, (replaced by Patricia " Apollonia" Kotero for Purple Rain). Many just passed through, seemingly without controversy, to careers of their own. Two of my favorites, Wendy Melvoin & Lisa Coleman (recording as Wendy & Lisa, their Revolution monikers), simply left on their own (after Parade), releasing a number of under appreciated albums yet working steadily and successfully through the nineties, later recording as the Girl Bros. They have also established themselves as composers in film and TV Dangerous Minds, Soul Food, and TV's Crossing Jordan, and the brilliant soundtrack to Heroes. An essential part of the chemistry that drove The Revolution, they have remained friend's with Prince, performing with him from time to time, reuniting with him on last year's Planet Earth, one of his best releases in ages.

It was around the time of Around the World in a Day and Parade that Prince founded Paisley Park Records. Serving as a launch point for protege's like Jill Jones, Ingrid Chavez and Mazerati, as well as established artists as diverse as Mavis Staples, George Clinton, the Three O'Clock, and Dale Bozzio (from Missing Persons) Paisley Park also released Carmen Electra's only cd to date (sample lyrics- "I'm like a spider in heat in this web of love you've spun", "Oh, Speak American, NO! Speak Carmenese" "You stepped left, so I left your butt", and of course "Funk is in my round buns, baby") proving that with nothing to work with, the Purple One does not have the Midas Touch.

One of the most overlooked, and sadly, difficult to find projects. was the second release from Paisley Park, The Family. Although apparently they only performed one concert, and the self-titled first release was all there is, it's a great album. It has a couple of uptempo funk songs (the spirited High Fashion, and Mutiny) Beautiful ballads(Nothing compares 2 U, and my favorite, the beautiful Desire) and New Wave influenced tracks like River Runs Dry and the single Screams of Passion). Nothing Compares 2 U was a smash for Sinead O'Connor but for the most part this album went nowhere. The Family was formed from the ashes of the Time, and suffered from poor promotion. The single got little airplay and the video got very little exposure, which is a shame, since it's one of the most cohesive things (in and of itself ) Paisley Park put out. Around the World in a Day and Parade had some great tracks (Raspberry Beret, Pop Life, Kiss) that kept him in the charts but was uneven as a whole, and ended the golden age of critical and commercial acclaim he'd been riding. The Family was well crafted, with a lush orchestral feel, and a noir-ish look that Prince would later explore in Under the Cherry Moon.

Formed in the wake of The Time's disintegration,The Family featured Paul "St. Paul" Peterson (who joined the group as keyboardist for Purple Rain and the the accompanying Time release Ice Cream Castles) as lead singer, and adding Susannah Melvoin, (Wendy Melvoin's sister) as vocalist. Paul Peterson left the group to seek more creative freedom, and Prince simply absorbed the remaining members into the expanded Revolution.

According to St. Paul's website, the Family is reuniting with most of it's original line-up, and there is a clip on YouTube of a member of the band the Roots introducing the band at a recent reunion performance. It would be nice if this prompted a CD reissue of the original album (there are two copies , remastered and content-copy protected at Amazon.com, in the 90-100 dollar range). Till then, here's the original video for "Screams of Passion"

Bobby Troup and Julie London in the house...

2008-04-14T21:50:00.000-07:00

Get your kicks with Bobby Troup and his lovely wife, the incomparable Julie London

because sometimes you need to just sit back, relax, and let the music flow through you.

Happy 50th Birthday Sylvia Stone

2008-04-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

Whether you are here on earth or not, thank you for the love, and for being my angel.

The Sinceros

2008-01-17T19:00:00.001-08:00

I first became aware of the Sinceros as Lene Lovich's backup band on her premiere album Stateless. This was around the time their second album Pet Rock was released, and it became one of my favorite album's of the early Eighties. It featured the wonderful song "Memory Lane" and the haunting gem "Disappearing" All in all, one of the most overlooked bands of all time, a group well worth remembering. Currently out of print, with a small but growing internet fanbase of bloggers willing to spread the word. Till there is a real release (after all, Elton Motello, The Dancing Cigarettes, Holly and the Italians, and other hard to find bands are finding new life in CD release and mp3 downloads at iTunes and Amazon, so surely there's hope) here is a video and a link to "Memory Lane". The YouTube Video below is a performance of their first single "Take me to Your Leader" from the album The Sound of Sunbathing. Enjoy! And help keep the music alive.

One of the best Sinceros tracks, lead vocals in this case attributed to Don Snow, later keyboardist for Squeeze, now performing as Jonn Savannah (see links for his site)

http://rapidshare.com/files/111177556/The_Sinceros_-_01_-_Disappearing.mp3

my avatar

2008-01-05T18:54:00.000-08:00

Cleaning out the files...

2007-07-02T15:05:00.000-07:00

here are a few pieces from my online storage, practicing my skills with blogger

The Thinking Heart

2007-07-02T15:02:00.000-07:00

With respect to Ursula Gestefeld...

Flowers

2007-07-02T14:46:00.000-07:00

Spent the spring taking pix of the abundant flora in the area, mostly to sample for mandalas.

Here's a few examples.

Changes at blogspot

2007-07-02T14:14:00.000-07:00

I've wanted to do more posting of visual stuff, however while I slacked off on the blog here, there have been changes, and I have to figure everything out again. As well as repair the damage to the html; some of the borders, links, etc are kind of screwed up. Hmmm. I do have an essay I've been working on that kind of explores more on the issue of being from a different gene pool than my family. My twin nieces are brown, and I think its pretty funny myself. Someone pointed it out to me again, and when I mentioned it to mom, she acted surprised. I have said before, I heard it enough growing up. Instead of telling people I was adopted, I always prefered to let people think my mom had a thing going on with Irish mailman....

If I can bring myself to do some editing, and if it approved by my primary editor/critic, laurendot, I'll post it next week.

Works in progress...

2007-06-03T14:23:00.001-07:00

My Lucky Number...

Found a copy of "Stateless" by Lene Lovich at the Beaverton library. It was actually my favorite album my senior year in H.School

It' always interesting to look back and see what kind of lyrics appealed to you at certain times in your life, and which themes cycle around again...

By Lene Lovich

Take me, make me, mould me fold me, shape my body You could improve me, rebuild anew me, heat up or cool me But don't forget to wake me in time You know I had a lot on my mind These tired old eyes await a surprise I wonder what the future will bring Second verse Fix me, mix me, rearrange me, change my body Make it so pretty, they can't resist me, queue up to kiss me But don't forget to wake me in time You know I got to be first in line This sensitive child is changing her style The ugly duck is starting to smile

Open up your eyes You Sleeping Beauties must arise You're shaping up just fine So climb inside a brand new life

This twilight seems like an eternity The changes I go through are hurting me Do we become what we deserve to be ?

Open up your eyes You Sleeping Beauties must arise You're shaping up just fine So climb inside a brand new life

Spring is here!

2007-06-03T14:20:00.001-07:00

Yep, I let things slide for a while on the blog front, but I'm Back! Here we go...

New place...

2006-10-14T17:01:00.000-07:00

FINALLY... I'll be settling in this week, and I will have a new entry up soon...

La Forza

2006-09-30T12:09:00.000-07:00

"La Forza"

online

2006-09-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

I haven't had internet at home in a while , so all of my blogging time is currently courtesy of Backspace, in downtown Portland. Check it out if you are ever in the area...

The World through Blue Eyes

2006-09-22T11:07:00.000-07:00

It's always interesting the way things come together, sometimes in ways you least expect. It's been an interesting month since the last time I made an entry here. I spent some time travelling ( I have now seen the desert- hot during the day, cold at night, and dry, dry, dry). I went through about three different climates to get there. A change of environment can do you a world of good, and travelling can give you new eyes to see where you are at. I thought that when I made my next entry here it would be about what i saw travelling around the state, but in fact, I gotr a curveball which showed me more about where I have been, where I am, and how things fit together.

Somewhere in the middle of all of the travelling my young cousin Josh took his own life. 20 years old, the same age as his uncle who did the same, back in 1957. I could go on about what a loving sweet kid he was (and honestly, he really was). But what would be the point? My family has had it's ups and downs over the years, and it seemed like the whole family had finally gotten past that tragedy back in the fifties.

Marv's suicide cast a very long shadow over the family; his generation and the one that followed. He died long before I was born, yet we always felt his presence- in the unspoken , the silent pauses when he was mentioned, the occaisonal comment from the adults. I hadn't seen Josh since he was little, but the pain and anguish of his passing affected us all in ways we would not have anticipated; if anyone had seen it coming, and no one did. His mother discovered him, just as she found her brother back in the fifties. It was a nightmare, an indescribable nightmare. I was on the phone with my sisters, my aunt, and other loved ones. My Mom actually went to the funeral, the first gathering of that clan to include her since the divorce- was that 1991? I don't even recall. I have never been this far from home when my family had a crisis, and I'm just now getting over the homesickness that overcame me that week. But even long distance, we came together in a way I never would have thought 20 years ago, when it seemed like all we shared was conflict. There is a lot more than blood which binds a family together, something I really needed to learn again.

I love my family, and I am grateful for every one of my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, Mother and Father(s). I was raised, for better or worse, by my stepdad, and for all our years of conflict, we have reached the point where I have realized that all those years together bonded us together. My "dad" died twenty years ago this month ( tomorrow would have been his 71st birthday. I loved him, but he was rarely there for me. He loved me, but we never really had a chance to bond. I was nearly a year old when they got me, I have often wondered is this made a difference. I think it did have some effect, but then again, he just never seemed to know what to do. And when my Mom left with me, because she couldn't communicate with him, because she couldn't be with someone so emotionally unavailable, I think he just gave up. He just wasn't very good at expressing his feelings, or acting on them But there were always people there for me, doing the best they could. I am very lucky, I have a large family. So large they aren't even all related to one another. And they have set aside a lot of differences sometimes, and shown that a very diverse group of people can come together when the need is there. I always felt a lot of tension between my families, and it was never eay to figure out where I belonged in all of it. Physically I have never felt that my family was a close biological match, and I was aware of comments made about these differences. Too aware, and I allowed it to feed my own insecurities for too long. Mostly I have already resolved that within myself, I know who my family is and I know who I am.

I called my biological mother back in the nineties, wanting to know more about myself. It was a brief and not altogether pleasant conversation. I called again in 99, driven by a need for more concrete information, and we barely talked a few minutes, I was rebuffed. Last Sunday I called her again, thinking "3's a charm". To my surprise, this blue eyed woman opened up, and we had a long conversation, heartfelt and very healing. I haven't even begun to process the impact of this event (I have wanted to have this conversation for years), but it felt good. Nature of Nurture? There are many ways in which I am like my family, the ones who loved and raised me. Still I saw much of myself eerily reflected during this conversation with the woman who gave me life. In the interest of privacy, (hers and mine), I have very little to say beyond that, but it was a very healing moment- for both of us. I no longer have a sense that I am just a ghost from long ago, (which I did, though I don't think I ever put it that way before) Whether a ghost from her past, or the ghost with blue eyes being raised in a brown eyed family. Something very deep has been resolved, something I always felt but never really knew. Difficult to articulate, but important nonetheless. Maybe I'll write more later, but for now that's all I have to say.

Life is not about sorrow, and sometimes things work out. Maybe they always work out for the best. All of a sudden my bright blue eyes don't seem to matter as much in a family with brown eyes. And any deep and lingering doubts I may have had about where I fit in the scheme of things have melted away. I belong where I choose to belong, and I love because I am loved. And I have great choices; funny how I never noticed that before. I have now.

The heart is an amazing organ, it pumps the blood which may people think of as the source of the bond between family members. But really, the heart does much more than that, it is a long held symbol of love, the love that brings us all together. And wherever people come together in a deep, enduring, and loving way, there is family. And I am deeply grateful for mine.

And Josh, rest in peace. I wish you could have found another way, we'll miss you. Whatever demons you carried, we will do better. Somehow you weren't able to feel the love we had for you in your darkest moment. The love we found in your passing was there all along, and I'm sorry you missed that. I for one, won't forget, and intend to do my very best to make sure the next generation doesn't forget either. Maybe that was your final gift to us. As the grieving lessens, I think this is what we'll find, the gift of love. and the truth of what bonds us together. Something which is always there. And will always be there, if we choose to see. Blue eyes or brown eyes, we only need to open our hearts to see the truth.

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes....

2006-08-06T14:20:00.000-07:00

I'm moving this week, and I probably won't have time for an update till next week. I feel really good about this move, it was a long stretch at the old place, and honestly, I won't miss it a bit.
Looking forward to a fresh start.

LaoSue handled the train pretty well, gotta love light rail... She was, however tranquilized ( I had two left over from the plane trip to Oregon). Atlas slept through the train ride, but LaoSue was afraid she might miss something. A guy on the train took this pic and sent it to me.

Another Toy-

2006-07-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

I added a guestbook at the bottom of the page- and I used this piece for the background.

It's been a hot weekend in PDX, over 100- very rare for this part of the country, or so I hear. Hotter back home, and for a lot longer, so I'm not about to complain.

Still, I'm spending the afternoon indoors...

a few more mandalas...

2006-07-22T14:02:00.000-07:00

It was 104 degrees in Portland yesterday, pretty warm today, too. Hot, hot, hot, but still not as bad as KC in the summertime.

I thought I'd post a few more of the mandala's I've made in the last year or so...

I don't always follow tradition, but they are all meditations. Some more personal than others-they have meaning beyond that which the casual viewer would pick up, but still, each viewer will find their own meaning.

The process which by which I produce them is a meditation, and sometimes I approach them like keltic knots, tracing them with my eyes.

but mostly I just like to look at them,

or make another ...

and another...

one more...

Mandala

2006-07-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

I make mandala's when I get the time, and when I feel like it. here's one from about two years ago...

and another...

I actually have hundreds of these going back nearly 20 years. The oldest are on paper, but I have really gotten a great deal out of using computer programs (these were done in photoshop), and most of them have been done in the last five years. Obviously, I'm not a purist. It's still a meditation, and I really enjoy the process. As I go through them, I may post a few from time to time...

a few interesting links, with resources

Exploring Mandala's

the Mandala Project- Peace through Art and Education

The Mandala Project

Wikipedia's entry- with interesting links

Mandala at Wikipedia

Shockwave Riding...

2006-07-15T14:42:00.000-07:00

I love the public transit system here in PDX, such a refreshing change after all those years in KC, which sadly lacks any kind of sensible public transit at all- especially sad when you consider how spread out that city is, and how desperately it needs public transit- I love the trains especially, and I have been reading quite a bit more during my commutes (books on tape in a car just aren't the same). I'll be sharing my thoughts on some of these books in coming entries.

Many consider William Gibson's works such as Neuromancer to be the origins of the cyberpunk genre, but I have to say I think this honor may belong to John Brunner's Shockwave Rider, published in 1975. A world with a society linked by a worldwide system of networked computers (long before Al Gore invented the internet), an antihero worthy of any cyberpunk novel, a worldwide economy based on credit and data, people changing identity's at the drop of a hat (or stroke of a key)years before Madonna made an art of it- this book is a must read. The cyberpunk novels have all been written since the computer revolution of the 80's and 90's, which is one of the things which make this book so amazing. Brunner, heavily influenced by Alvin Toffler's Future Shock was amazingly prescient in his description of a world where the apocolypse came not in the form of nuclear annihilation, or dystopian military oppression, but from a post data overload world where people have lost the essence of their freedom simply because they became distracted and gave it away- to corporations and the government, which seem intertwined in Brunners world. I also found the his innovative writing style in this work has held up well. A few changes here and there, and it would make a great movie- maybe if A Scanner Darkly does well enough this summer, someone out there will run across it and see it's potential. It's certainly timely enough.

Invisible friends....

2006-07-13T16:17:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that when i was younger I watched every single episode of 60's sci-fi cheesefest Lost In Space. And I recently wrote an episode review of my favorite episodes of that series at the Internet Movie Database.

I've never really told anyone why I got so hooked on Star Trek in the first place, that show being my initiation into the world of sci-fi. Truth be told, a few years after my parents broke up, I saw my first episode of Trek, and I thought William Shatner looked kind of like my dad. Not a ringer, but kind of in a way. Close enough for a seven year old who missed his dad, anyway. I don't even know which episode it was. I don't remember the first time I saw the episode of Lost in Space which stuck with me all these years, but I know I watched it every chance I could (I even have a copy on tape somewhere). It was called "My Friend, Mr. Nobody, and it touched me just as deeply, Lost in Space or not. In the first season they tried to be a serious drama, before they morphed into the camp classic everyone remembers.

My favorite character was Penny Robinson, and this epsiode focused on her and her invisible friend, who in fact is a non-corporeal alien life form, trapped in the center of a planet for millions of years, completely alone. The story is actually very well written, the acting strong, and minimal need for special effects decrease the cheese factor to the point where, standing alone in an anthology series like Twilight Zone or Outer Limits, it would be more well known as the classic it is. The score for this episode is lovely, even mystical, and it adds to the sense-of-wonder which makes this such a magical episode. Angela Cartright's performance as Penny is outstanding, ( she was already a seasoned vet at the time of this series), more than able to carry the episode focused on her character. The episode at it's core is an exploration of loneliness, in specific a lonely child and her search for comfort and companionship. And about the bond that can develop when loneliness is shared with another- a friend in a most unexpected form (or lack of form, in this case). It definitely spoke to me, and from time to time I still take it out and watch it. The strength of Penny's character in this episode is her openness, her willingness to believe in what is good, her willingness to love. Which is, after all, the only real remedy for loneliness.

I still find it cheers me up, and I have discovered that it is fondly remembered by others, as well- Google the episode and surf around, you'll find fan pages and other stuff out there. And if you spot this episode at the local movie store, (it's available on DVD, and I saw it at Movie Madness here in PDX) give it a shot. It might not be what you would ordinarily pick, but think about a lonely moment in your life, and see if it touches you.

here's a link to my review at IMDB

My Friend Mr. Nobody at IMDB

Pepluminous!

2006-06-30T14:29:00.000-07:00

By the way, for some reason my profile, links, and the archives are now loading at the bottom of the page. Not sure why, but i'll have to sit down to go over the html when I have more time. I'll be doing about an entry a week after my vacation is over, so keep this baby bookmarked and check in once in a while. Y'all come back now, ya hear!

Loaded Words I : Notes on "Bitch"

2006-06-30T12:24:00.000-07:00

I reached an overseas call center yesterday, and I spoke to a woman with an almost incomprehensibly thick accent. She interpreted everything I said literally, and seemed to have little or no comprehension of what the conversation was about. I was increasingly irritated, not so much by her struggle to convert our conversation in her head to her native tongue and back, but by her attitude, which was rude, and rather condescending. I could hear my hillbilly ancestors going off in my head- "Dammed Furriners"! After recovering from the shame of the white guilt moment that inspired, and further hassles because she still couldn't understand the (pitifully simple) order I was trying to place, I told her never mind, cancel it, for which I was rewarded with an immediate disconnection, no sorry, sir, no attempt to get a supervisor to help her with the order,no goodbye, nothing, just "click" . "What a bitch", I thought. I sat and thought about what I could learn from this. How much interpersonal intercultural conflict grows out of the assumption that race, culture, creed or lifestyle or other aggregate label is the causative factor in the conflict, when the issue really is that someone is just being a bitch?

Getting past the use of the word in animal husbandry (bitch as a female member of the canine species), the Oxford Dictionary has this entry on the word, generally attributed to old english via old norse.
a. Applied opprobriously to a woman; strictly, a lewd or sensual woman. Not now in decent use but formerly common in literature. In mod. use, esp. a malicious or treacherous woman; of things: something outstandingly difficult or unpleasant. (See also son of a bitch.)

This is of course, the official definition, but it has gone in so many directions in the colloquial that I think it bears a bit more of an in-depth examination., So, YO Bitches! Let's check it OUT!

I can be a total bitch sometimes, and certainly have been from time to time. Although men are usually referred to as assholes when they act like a bitch, I think there are subtle differences. Being an asshole implies a certain thoughtless brutishness, whereas a bitch knows how to plan. E.G. That manipulative little bitch!. To relegate this word's expression to the female gender seems to me rather sexist and frankly inaccurate. Anyone can scheme, and many do. There are numerous online references to the use of the word in gay slang, especially in the parlez of Drag Queens- "That bitch over by the bar won't even look at me". And women have reclaimed the word B*I*T*C*H*. Being In Total Charge of Herself- see the Bitch Manifesto in the links section. And it there are even those who have elevated the word to spirtual use- check out

the Bitch from Hell

for more on that.

And then there's the use as a greeting via urban vernacular "Wassup, bitch", or its uses as a term of sexual relationship as in I gots to go pick up my bitch for the party, or biker slang such as riding bitch, to take the back seat on ones bike, implying a certain submission to the person up front.

To be a bitch is not the same, however as bitching, or acting like a bitch. "That supervisor is such a bitch" is not quite the same as "she was being such a bitch today".

When it comes to men, you will hear "what an asshole" applied to that anal retentive, opinionated hard-ass who has chosen not to communicate or reason through a problem or issue, and although he probably really needs to be bitch-slapped, he may not actually be a bitch. An asshole is usually out-of-control, whereas a scheming, manipulative bitch can't ever seem to let go of control. There is perhaps some cosmic irony in the fact that both really need to loosen up. A man who continually disrupts his estranged wife's job by refusing to pick up their child when she has to go to work is certainly an asshole. Refusing to pay child support to try to force her to move back in is either being an abusive asshole or a bitch, and probably both. What makes him a bitch is the scheme, the plot, the plan to control another through verbal manipulation (gossip), financial manipulation (deadbeat dad), or other forms of denigration and humiliation. An asshole frequently turns into a bitch when he's been defeated in the unsympathetic courts, or by social connections and groups of people who have seen through his shit. And a bitch in the workplace usually uses gossip and manipulation to further her/his own agenda (and cover their own shortcomings).This is especially obnoxious in the case of the office flirt who never does anything right, but bats their lashes and sticks out their ass when confronted, or the politicking management suck-up using targeted gossip to raise multple issues so that it becomes increasingly difficult to see what the issue is (e.g. they don't merit the promotion desired, or they lack confidence in the skills they may have). This is the "See how awful they are- Don't I look good now, and what would you do without me?" game. If bitching were a job qualification, they'd have it made. This scheming bitch will even take credit for the work of others, hiding their subterfuge with an attitude of superiority ("I'm just concerned with what's best for everyone").

Bitch is just a word. It expresses the feelings of the user, and if interpreted correctly by the listener, it can be a great word for making an assessment of a situation. It can be a compliment ("That Bitch is Fierce"), a warning ("Don't be such a bitch, it's exactly what he wants"), or an insult ("Fuck You, Bitch"). Perhaps more often than not, it sets off emotional responses in the listener which can really make the situation worse, which is a total bitch. "Bitchin" can be an expression of irritation ("Will you quit bitchin' about it and get off your ass"), or something totally awesome, ("Bitchin ride, dude").

A good bitch responds to the situation they find themself in, and a bad bitch reacts to theirs. Whether we keep our power or give it away depends on us, I think, which leads me to this conclusion- being a bitch is a choice, as is whether or not we have a bitchin' day, or go home and bitch about our day till we go to bed and start it all over again the next. We can view our neighbor or co-worker as a bitch, or we can see how strongly we are holding on to an opinion, or trying to control a situation. It's a real bitch (difficult situation) to figure it all out sometimes, but I guess we are all doing the best we can. I can only choose for myself, and if necessary, choose to do better next time.

Etymology of the word "Bitch"

Ummm....What?

2006-06-29T17:05:00.000-07:00

A simpler explanation of my post below about panentheism. Anyone who knows me can attest that the fact that my sitting twice a day with my mouth shut for 20 minutes at a time is a miracle. So, by keeping your mouth shut for 20 minutes a day, maybe you can find a miracle of your own. And you can define miracle for yourself...

Speaking of miracles, I think most of the links work now, too...

Riding the Waves, One Summer at a Time

2006-06-29T15:23:00.000-07:00

The warm weather earlier this week reminded me a many a warm summer night back in the midwest, many years ago when I was in many ways a different person than who I am now. I wasn't a very happy teenager, not really in touch with my feelings for the most part. I worked summers in a Drive-In Movie theatre (remember those), and spent a great deal of time avoiding making any plans for the future and just hoping to get through day by day. Music was in many ways the most important thing in my world, it was what made me happier than anything. I really was moved by the New Wave, which seemed to be happening everywhere but in Kansas. There were artists like Lene Lovich, Thomas Dolby, the Tourists, Magazine, all of whom gave me a feeling I had never felt before. Pearl Harbour and the Explosions, Holly and the Italians, post-punk bands like the Clash, the Talking Heads, the list goes on and on. I was shellshocked and numb a great deal of the time, and pretty directionless, but when I listened to these bands, I felt alive. If there was one band that really made me feel awake and alive, it had to be Blondie, who were very deservingly inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall oi Fame this year. New Wave and it's acts weren't really recognized for thier contribution at the time, especially in the midwest, where REO Speedwagon type bands dominated the culture, it was considered a passing fad, or whatever. As the retro 80's stations have taken off in the last few years, it delights me that most of the music played is new wave or new wave influenced pop, much of which was never given airplay on the radio at the time, while I haven't heard an REO Speedwagon song in years. Quentin Crisp said in The Naked Civil Servant that "In an expanding universe, time is on the side of the outcast. Those who once inhabited the suburbs of human contempt find that without changing their address they eventually live in the metropolis".

So it is, I think, with the music and culture of what was then called "the New Wave", and in many ways, so it has been and is with my life. THANK GOD! ( or Jesus, Buddha, Mary, Kwan Yin, Morgan La Fey, Elvis, Rama-lama-ding-dong, pick one)

If there was one group that moved me deeply, and one icon that truly made me feel hopeful and alive, the group was Blondie, and the icon was the lead singer, the incomparable Deborah Harry

Beautiful and timeless, she opened the door for many people, with style, a certain grace all her own, and a great sense of humour...
Blondie didn't get much respect from the rock-n-roll press at the time (Heart of Glass was a DISCO song, oooh, tres uncool...)but they've definitely withstood the test of time. And two summers ago I was privileged enough to see them live- and better than ever. There is a warmth in her stage presence that few can match, and a sense of fun that we all could use more of these days.

So, here's to warm summer evenings, good music, good friends, and the awareness that time is on the side of the outcasts, the freaks, geeks and those who just don't feel connected to the world they find themselves in, and yet still have the ability to see beyond it to what can be. It takes a little time to realize it, but those of us who have been there know, you are much better better off. Thoreau said it best when he stated " Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them". The world is still full of songs, and thanks to the lessons I learned from the influence of all those who speak their own truth, so am I. Thanks for the inspiration...

How's the Weather? (you may now leave comments)

2006-06-28T10:48:00.000-07:00

It was 102 degrees in Portland Monday, and I discovered I still have my KC hot weather physiology- I didn't seem to suffer as much as the locals. They always say, It's not the heat, it's the humidity. Yesterday was pretty warm as well, and the Max trains had multiple failures- my 40 minute trip to Hillsboro had a return trip of three hours. The day I forgot to take a book to read with me. Oh, well.

By the way, I changed the settings so that ANYONE can now leave comments, so fire away, I love me some comments....

PLANET OF THE VAMPIRES! (Terror della Spazio)

2006-06-25T19:35:00.000-07:00

Planet of the Vampires

I recently obtained a dvd of this visually striking 60’s film by Mario Bava (Black Sabbath, Black Sunday) , Planet of the Vampires. In many way’s it’s typical sixties sci fi, including some horrendous b-movie technobabble ("We land in 60 fractions of a megon.") which puts post next generation trek and 70's Battlestar Galactica to shame. The film does illuminate the Bava touch in it’s striking visuals, much of which came about to compensate for it’s tiny budget. With a color scheme rivaling his work on “Hercules and the Haunted World”, and a genuinely creepy storyline, this is a must see picture for fans of sixties sci and Italian cinema.

There is plenty out there on the net about the similarities to Ridley Scott’s “Alien” (1979), particularly the scene where the crew discovers the alien vessel. In addition, it also takes it’s time to get there, slowly building up a sense of hard-to define threat much like Scott’s film. Atmospheric doesn’t even begin to describe the swirling, foggy visuals of the alien planet, designed to conceal the low budget, but creating a constant sense of uncertainty which serves to build the tension. It’s much more truly a “haunted house in space” film than Scott’s film, creating a genre all it’s own, where the gothic meets the alien in an out-of focus kaleidoscope of terror. As much as has been written about the influences on films like Alien, 2001, and Lifeforce, so I haven’t much to add to that. I did however recall a scene from another classic scifi ephemera, the Star Trek: The Animated Series, which is fitting, since the whole movie plays like a darker, more baroque version of classic trek.

The episode in question is the first of the early seventies animated Star Trek, the first incarnation after the original series unfortunate demise, often overlooked, and until recently quite hard to find (they are all now available on DVD- try amazon). “Beyond the Farthest Star”, the maiden voyage of TAS (as it is often referred to by fans) find the intrepid crew of the Enterprise coming upon a derelict vessel of a unique and completely unfamiliar design. The scenes where they come upon the alien captain’s log are strikingly similar in feel, the exploration of the ship (which is truly alien- the animated format really opened up the possibilities for alien design) recall the exploration of the alien derelict in POV. And the theme of the episode is much closer in spirit (bad pun) to the storyline of POV than Alien.

The Alien Captain's ...

The Italian title, Terror From Space is really a lot more fitting as there are no vampires in the movie, but the plot, although now familiar (see any number of Trek plots from all of the series, especially the latter seasons of DS9), and a variety of other films an tv series (Outer Limits, et al) was rather unique in 1965. Definitely worth a look, and maybe due for a good remake, if the right people got a hold of it.

More on the filming of the effects…

Planet of the Vampires!

Coming Soon..Planet of the Vampires!

2006-06-23T18:36:00.000-07:00

At long last, one of my favorite Mario Bava (Black Sunday) 60's films is available on an affordable DVD- PLANET OF THE VAMPIRES, or Planet of Terror as it was known in Italy. The visual style of this film was a significant influence on films like Ridley Scott's Alien and although there were no vampires in it, it explored themes later to become sci-fi cliches. I'll be contributing my thoughts on this masterpiece of b-movie horror sometime soon! Don't Miss It!

Ummm... What is Panentheism? (Or, God is Dog spelled backwards)

2006-06-23T12:03:00.000-07:00

What is panentheism?

I tend to identify myself as a post-x thaumaturge when asked about my spiritual beliefs( a private joke). And I tend to keep quiet about my spiritual beliefs, which are pretty open-ended. I believe that spirituality is a process, rather than a label, and after more than twenty years of spiritual practice, I still find myself struggling to express what it is that I feel, what it is that illuminates the meaning in my life, the resource I draw upon in day to day living. I can say that I have been heavily influenced by the teachings of Ralph Waldo Emerson and his followers in the New Thought movement, and that I get along well with people whose beliefs do not match mine. At one point in my life I was threatened by anyone whose beliefs did not match mine, and I let the whole world know, one way or another. I wasn't very happy then, (or very secure in my beliefs, for that matter) but I can now say with sincere gratitude that I have reached the point where I have enough faith in myself that I know what works for me. Do I have an answer for anyone else? How could I? I believe that we all already have the answer, if we know how to look for it. There are thousands of spiritual paths out there, pick one that fits for you. Make one up. "Sit quietly and wait" is the best answer I can give for how I found what works for me. It's ironic that the answers I have sought have come to me in silence, given my reputation for talking, but it is what it is. I get along great with my sister who became a Jehovah's Witness, we agree to disagree on certain points (and it scares the crap out of my family when we come together on certain family issues, what with me being so, well, "out there" and all). I am inspired by much of the traditional celtic teachings, and german should-be saints Hildegard Von Bingen and Meister Eckhart ( fortunately, their works were banned by the church for centuries, making them must-reads in my book).

There is a lot of truth out there, and plenty of bullshit to wade through as well. If the point is to find a greater power, a more fulfilling experience of life, my experience is that you have to let it in, so to speak. It stands to reason that if this deeper experience of life is so powerful, then it naturally has the answers you seek. Many people, myself included, have had to let go of the fears years of cultural bullshit and control freak religious models have instilled. I also believe one has to examine these influences, (trust me, if you practice meditation regularly, it WILL come up). But religious authority is not spiritual experience. And we have all been lied to by our cultural experience at one time or another. Too many people throw the baby out with the bathwater, and rather than think through these difficult issues simply become "fashionably athiest", as a friend of mine once put it. I am not an athiest. I believe in God, but it is a panentheistic, rather than a monotheistic or pantheistic God. God is simply a word, shorthand for something which cannot be expressed, only experienced. See the Tao de Ching for more on that- and set aside a few years to think it through- for starters. The Tao which can be named is not the eternal Tao. We are creatures of language, and sometimes it's simply a matter of finding a common vernacular for reference. Whatever you are seeking, you can find it if you are willing to be consistant, persistant, and patient. There is good in the world, and it isn't always easy to see. But you're not alone, there are others seeking too. Finding the right people to trust can be difficult, but I also believe that if you look deeply enough within yourself, you'll know who and when to trust. WSB once said to me that if I had to take a thousand pictures to get the one shot that I wanted, it was more than worth it. It's that way with life as well, and with enough practice you don't always need to take a thousand pictures for that shot at the perfect expression of who you are. And perhaps that's what I believe spiritual seeking is. Just remember there is always more to life than what we see with our 5 regular senses, and maybe the best thing about life is that you can't figure it all out. But you always know what you need to know. I do believe that, and I do believe everyone has the answers they seek within them. And you have my best wishes on your search.

Here are some links of interest to me, see the links section for more on Alan Anderson, Isaac Bonewits, and more

And then there's Isaac Bonewits's , a wonderfully entertaining neopagan authority, for those of you with a broader understanding on life on this green earth. He also has some very sound advice about evaluating spiritual groups for cultlike behavior- see the "Cult Danger Evaluation Frame". This is his entry at Wikipedia

Isaac Bonewits

A brief intro to Hildegard Von Bingen-

Hildegard!

Panentheism Vs. Pantheism

Anderson's essay

The Nomi Song

2006-06-23T11:00:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite discoveries of the last few months has been that an all-time favorite of mine, Klaus Nomi, is going through a kind of renaissance. Andrew Horn's documentary, THE NOMI SONG, has spurred new interest in this phenomenal and irreplacable artist.

I'd like to say something clever and comment brilliantly on Klaus and his work, but one of the things about Klaus was his ability to render his audience speechless. My friend Ted and I watched "the Nomi Song", as did my friend Lukas, who was also blown away by this amazing man and the story of his life and work. Twenty years after his death, Klaus continues to stun, inspire, and amaze.

I still remember watching Klaus on SNL in the seventies with Bowie (with my parents, no less), and the feelings of amazement I felt when I saw him on a news program (was it 20/20?), and then the amzing scene in URGH! a Music War(will that EVER be released on DVD?).

I originally got "the Nomi Song" from netflix, and I immediately ordered a copy from Amazon.com. There are tons of DVD extra's, including performance footage (which has always been so tough to find), commentaries on the times , audio remixes, Klaus's life, and more. It all makes this disc well worth owning. The movie features Ann Magnussen, Kenny Scharf, and many others from the new wave scene which was so vibrant in late seventies, early eighties New York. I can't recommend this enough.

the Nomi Song

Jeez! It's February! Unions! Hellcats!

2006-02-22T08:43:00.000-08:00

I have recovered sufficiently from my experience in health care to have gotten myself involved in union issues at work. . Although I originally signed on as shop steward, I am now also the union secretary. And quite a bit of the corporate behavior you see lately is, well, shall we say... not so grown up.
No matter how it plays out, it should work out for me ok, I have a back up job lined up if I get tired of the BS, and it works well towards building a labor relations profile for my resume. Anyone who wants info on the company I mentioned, email me, and I send you some entertaining links.

As far as watching movies goes, I upgraded netflix this month, and "throttling" or not, I have been enjoying my unplanned vacation with lots of movies. The night before I got this cold, I watched Ronald Reagan and La Nancy in "Hellcats of the Navy". Staggeringly awful, with all the emotional impact of an animatronics show. The flatness of the acting is matched only by the coldness of the script- Nancy is a cold fish who has dumped Ron for his best friend, who Ronnie summarily orders to his death in battle. When Ron greets Nancy with the news, she is barely phased; "I'm so glad You're here," she purrs, then we get one line about her late fiancee, and she sets into getting her claws back into Ronnie. "Where did we go wrong", she muses, opening the door to a rekindling of their love, with the memory of whats-his-name fading into the past. Later, during a romantic interlude, Nancy does display a brief bit of primitive emotion during one of the movies many inane exchanges. "Maybe they'll just send me to the moon", Ronnie says. "There's no water on the Moon" Nancy replies, pursing her lips coquettishly. "What do you know about the moon", Ronnie replies. "I know a lot about the Moon," Nancy pouts girlishly, " I spend all of my time looking at it while you're away on missions".
Maybe it has nothing to do with my catching this cold, but I doubt it helped any.

I hope to start making entires here at least once a week, my net time is still limited, but I am looking forward to being more active. I can't decide, though, should I send for "Cat Women of the Moon", or "Devil Girl from Mars" for next week. Any suggestions?

hmmm...We now resume pepluminous,already in progress...

2005-12-13T21:23:00.002-08:00

Had to take an unexpected break, to deal with some health issues. The Good news is, I am in better shape than I have been in a long time. The Bad news? I'm feeling pretty grateful these days, but I do have some catching up to do.....

What is Pepluminous?

2005-08-22T02:31:00.000-07:00

PEPLUMINOUS!

Heracles, Maciste, Samson, Peplum. Peplumuminous!
What does pepluminous mean?

Peplum is the celluloid genre which primarily refers to the Italian sword-and-sandal films most popular from 1956-1965 (roughly), but it has been around in some form since the beginning of movies, beginning perhaps with the 1907 Ben Hur and the 1914 Cabiria. It took off in 1957 with the first Steve Reeves Hercules movie. The more recent Alexander, with Colin Farrell, could be considered a recent example of the peplum genre. A peplum is a type of tunic, cheap and easy to make favored by the costumers of peplum movies, kind of a mini-toga. They tend to show off the classical male form in a most flattering way. Many a fine physique has been displayed in the classic myth movies of this genre.

Peplum for me is also a metaphor, for whatever we “wear” to illuminate our spirit, a personal myth through which we express ourselves, to emphasize, rather than hide our true beauty.

A lumen is, on the one hand, a unit of luminous flux- to be luminous is to emit or reflect light. A lumen in anatomy is the channel within a tube through which blood flows.

The light that flows from a hero, ( since I made the word up, I can grab the first definition). A Hero in the Barefoot Doctor or Joseph Campbell sense of the word, a spiritual do-er, if you like. The tunic is all well and good, but it is the light that shines through the myth which makes a hero a hero, and not the drag surrounding it.

Archives, Vol 1

2005-08-22T01:02:00.000-07:00

I started on Xanga, and moved to myspace, but since the first time I saw the blog my blogger-hero snicks had here, I have been wanting to move here. Nevertheless, I thought I would move some of my favorite entriys since my move here, so.....

a brief record of my first few months in Portland...

St Patrick' Day, 2005

Yesterday, attie, laosue, and I entered a large pressurized tube, and we were shot through the air at over 400 mph. breaking free of the event horizon, we did not conclude the day in the place that we began, in fact we landed somewhere quite different. Shot backward in time two hours, with plenty of time to spare, my feline companions and I established residency in Portland Or, sometime around 10:30pm local time last night.

It is green, lush, and beautiful here. The moment-by-moment now, unfolding like a camellia, and I am home, never-before seen, but still recognized
A cup of coffee in the morning, a walk in the afternoon, a calming stop at a teashop, a beautiful day. Seeing old friends, making new ones, a beautiful day. The air is clean and enjoyable to breathe here, a beautiful day.
The Kuan Yin smiles here, and so do the people. I smell a hint of vanilla in one place, tea in another. And I have been smiling all day...

March 19th, 2005
An Honorable Man

Saturday, I sit here waiting for FedEx. The boxes keep arriving, out of sequence, pieces of a three-dimensional memory quilt. The pieces of my life fall back into place in a new, fresh, order. The last year has been a trip, the last six months especially so. There has been so much change; I feel the need to stay close to the core of my values. The challenges of the last six months were like this: No matter what the provocation, or how rotten the people around me behaved, my task has been to operate from my own core values. I remember how to be an asshole myself, self-righteous anger having once been my drug of choice. I recognize this, and forgiving myself for my own past has been challenging. All around me I have seen this lack of self-forgiveness mirrored around me in those whom I allow treat me badly. And for years I put up with it, accepted it. Till the last year, when I started standing my ground. From the particularly assholish security mom last summer, whose unfathomable attack caused a great deal of hurt and embarrassment to the group we belonged to (which I left, after two years of devoted service), to the petty betrayals of good friends and acquaintances who said one thing to me while acting quite a bit differently behind my back, to the gossips who brought hurtful things to my attention, and those who will always throw away loyalty while demanding it in return, it has been a rough period for me. I feel I have continued to act in accordance with my beliefs. No one is required to agree with me. And I feel better and stronger for it. It is sometimes hard for people who love you to see you making changes in your life for the better, particularly if they don't seem to be moving along at the same speed. I am now getting up to speed myself.

We all have our periods in the cocoon, and the last year has been mine. I am emerging once again, as I have done so many times before. My beloved friends, you are not being abandoned unless you have given up on yourselves. I will no longer be challenged, I do not need your "lessons", I didn't ask for them, and I can't trust your motivations, especially when it's so unclear where you are coming from. I am not always the one who needs to grow. Don't bitch at me because you don't know how to release your addictions. Don't bitch at me because your ex-wife has more control over your life than you do. Don't bitch at me because you want something you think I have, because if you really need it, you already have it within yourself. And don't fuck with me because you think I am standing in your way, when it comes right down to what really matters, it isn't possible for me to stand in your way, nor for you to stand in mine.. I am worthy of respect, and so are you. I love who I love unconditionally, and I accept what that means. It isn't all sweetness and light, that's for sure. It's also about seeing through the shadow puppet play, which means that those who are unused to love and acceptance may feel the need to reject, operating from the dark-adapted eye of Spirit. That's O.K., because it's not me that is rejected, and I love you anyway. We all have a hard time accepting love sometimes, and that's also o.k. I have my responsibilities to the process, too. It's always a dance. I have allowed myself to be the one who got set up to look bad, making it easy for certain types of others to feel good about themselves. I mistook that for love for along time. But if you can't please them, you never will. If we get it from our parent's I don't know which set to pick. I have been addicted to blame, Mom said about Dad, Dad said about mom, he said about she, and she said to him, and so on and so on. I am working through it again, and I am not at all unhappy with my choices lately. I am ready to leave the saraband of the blamers and the shamers behind, even those I love. I find myself dancing a new dance, as familiar as taking a deep breath after a long period of holding it. I trust in their process, they are where they need to be, I trust my own, and I am where I need to be... And I am delighted to discover that there are plenty of people in my life who see and appreciate ME, and not just the shadows they project at me in vain attempt to avoid themselves. We all have our shadow, our guardian on the threshold, and I have made friends with mine. Not an easy process, even after years of self exploring, but it's funny how little power the "dark side" has over me anymore, and how much work it sometimes seems to be to be AWAKE and AWARE. The mistake people make in seeking enlightenment is the search for a light that casts no shadows. Where would art be if this were so? But it is worth the bumps, for I finally feel certain that, to the best of my ability to express who I am, I AM an Honorable Man. I do the best I can, day-by-day, and I deserve the Good in my life. It's wet, wet, wet, outside, and green, green, green. Life is beautiful, even on a rainy day....

Later...
Cool, rainy air. Fall weather in Kansas often felt like this. It was always my favorite kind of weather. I love taking walks in this kind of weather, feeling the cool damp against my face. This is it, the smell in the air; it gives me the feeling of being exactly where I am supposed to be. Some of my books arrived today; I have Thomas Troward's Hidden Power, with the essay on beauty. Might make for good Sunday morning reading. The cats have gone to bed, as should I, but I love the sound of the wind blowing, and the wind chimes in the neighborhood are my Aeolian gamelan, in a city that doesn't sound like a city to me. Even the sound is beautiful to me here.

Sunday, March 20th
Majie (MAH-jee): to curse or revile the streets (Chinese)

The practice of talking to the streets in highly pejorative terms (Rheingold)

In Chinese culture, where direct confrontation is deterred by the strong family structure and Confucian values, it is considered completely appropriate to head out when you're having a frustrating moment, with family, employer, neighbor, whatever, and begin hurling invectives at the street., thereby relieving the emotional pressure. MAJIE!

I was sitting on a porch in Lawrence, Ks, in the early 90's with some friends, and we were astonished to see a small Chinese woman in a bonnet walk serenely up to the paper box on the corner, drop to her knees, and begin loudly and emotionally cursing in chinese. A few years later I added Howard Rheingold's wonderful lexicon They Have A Word for It to my library, which contains words expressing concepts which don't translate into english, but that we could use. This is where I found the concept of majie.

Yesterday's entry was kind of an exercise in cyber-majie, as it were. I think a lot of the blogs that I see are cyber-majie, rant about nothing and everything. Not to be confused with the practice of flaming, this is usually nothing more that bullying behind the anonymity of the web....

It's always tough to make a big move, and this is the biggest move I have ever made. I wish I had been able to drive out, get the space in my head, but flying was the most practical (and cheapest) way to move here. Consequently I am still processing a lot of stuff from KC, and all the years I spent there. My friend Lauren calls it the "Hey! I could have had a V-8!" syndrome.

I'm going to head over to the Stumptown coffeeshop for my morning coffee fairly soon. I have been trying to reduce my caffeine and get back to my favorite beverage tea soon; it will help me get into the flow of what I want for me. I would have given up coffee years ago if it were not for the "scene". I don't need a scene anymore, and that, my friends is a fundamental realization of peplumen. Whatever my trappings, I am my own light, and the peplum is just for fun...

Sunday, March 20^th, 2005

Lovely Rain

I spent the morning having coffee at a place called the Pied Cow. I took the Thomas Troward with me, but instead of the chapter on Beauty, I read the essay "Entering into the Spirit of It". Troward was a Divisional Judge of the North Indian Punjab from 1869 to 1896. After his retirement he devoted his life to pursuing metaphysical and esoteric studies. His work is mostly remembered for it's influence on others, notably Ernest Holmes, and although his work can be challenging to read, I generally find it rewarding. This line stood out to me, and gave me something to reflect upon. " But every fact implies also it's negative, and we never properly understand a thing until we know what it is, but also clearly understand what it is not" Whereas I have sometimes found it easier to define what I don't want than what I do, there was something in this passage that really spoke to me.
I first decided to move to the pacific northwest in 1990. I have always been attracted to the culture, and to the vast amounts of green space. I didn't come then, I didn't think I could find a way (now I think I lacked imagination, or at least the proper sort, anyway), and one year became another, then another. And gradually, I kept finding myself in places that I did not want to be. In spite of that, I have always managed to find wonderful people around me, and that's an amazing thing and wonderful thing. I know I am loved. But something always felt like it was missing. I understand what it is that draws me here, and that I have here, and have had since the moment I arrived. And also what I have had inside me all along. What was missing was doing what I wanted, because I wanted to do it. Not giving those who loved me enough credit to be real with them, or having enough faith in myself to believe that I did not need the tender mercies of those who would like me better if I did or said the right thing. If there is such a thing as a right thing, then there is a right thing for me, and I have the right to define what that is for me.

There's another quote, part of the thesis to the antithesis quoted above; "By entering into the spirit of anything we establish a mutual vivifying action and reaction between it and ourselves, we vivify it with our own vitality, and it vivifies us with a living interest which we call it's spirit,; and therefore the more fully we enter into the spirit of all with which we are concerned, the more thoroughly do we become alive".

I realized in a flash that this has always worked for me. Whether I was where I wanted to be or not, I have always been able to find some happiness in giving myself to anything that inspired me to GET OFF MY ASS. It hasn't always worked out, such as experiences in work environments where I missed the negative aspects of a situation till they bit me in the ass, or found myself working to near exhaustion for people who showed no appreciation whatsoever. The spirit of the need, which I pick up on, is not always the spirit of the solution. And I 'm the one who put up with it since there is always a choice. For me part of the solution to being myself for myself was making the choice to make this move. Under the pretext of love, both sought and seeking to give, I put up with a lot of shit over the years, and frankly, I just wasn't happy in the Midwest. I needed to get back in touch with my dreams, not my family’s, or my employer's, or neighbor’s, or the expectations of "the scene". So I dusted off an old dream last year, and although certain changes sped up my timeline for departure, here I am in Portland.
So I spent the afternoon exploring the Hawthorne area near my apt. (BTW, in the Celtic Tree calendar, Hawthorne is my sacred tree or bush, whichever.). After returning home, I enjoyed reading some Anne Waldman over tea. Spent the evening putting some things in order, and called some friends. Even had an o.k. conversation with my mom (!).
The next few weeks may be hectic, but I feel like thesis and antithesis are coming together in my life, placing me right where I want to be. Synthesis. I'm getting into the spirit of things around here.

Here's to taking some quiet moments for yourself, and for the best of times when you are with those you love.

Monday, Monday (March 21^st)

Had a great morning, started with coffee at a place called Crema, made some new friends. Portland is, in general, a much more tea friendly place. I've been having my morning cuppa joe every day since I got here, but overall I much prefer tea. Decaf seems a bit scarcer, unless you want an americano, but I will not go to Starbucks, so it seems like a good time to switch back to green tea. I prefer mate in the mornings, with a nice light green tea the rest of the day. There are places here that serve the mate in the bombilla, and I appreciate that.

Spent the afternoon waiting for FedEx, they didn't come. Overall, I am beginning to wish I had used UPS. The slightly insolent guy on the customer "service" line and the disinterested young lady on the line today didn't win too many brownie points. Latest is, they will deliver it on Wednesday, and if I want the stuff, I need to be here. Whatever. I'm going to see about picking up the rest of the stuff when it gets here.

Talked to my friend Joe M. today, living in Kirksville, Mo. Joe's an amazing artist, someone to keep an eye on. No Pressure, Joe.

This place is Cat City. I live on a pretty quiet street, little traffic, lots of kitties. Instead of traffic and sirens, It's wind chimes, and this evening the lovely mating song of a female cat, as she yowls her aria that says there may be kittens on the way. Most of the neighbor cats are fixed, and I haven't seen a feral cat in the neighborhood, so I'm not too worried about it.

It's been nearly two months since Regis died, and I miss him. For close to seventeen years he slept on the bed with me, and it's tough to adjust sometimes. Atlas and LaoSue have a much different dynamic these days. Attie was pretty lost for a while, kind of clingy, but I think the move did him some good. I have spent a lot more time with him lately, he's a great snuggler. I just wish he wouldn't lick my face to show his appreciation- he could get varnish off woodwork with that tongue. He's adjusting well to being around Padme's kitties, Thomas and Angel. Thomas is a pretty laid back guy; he seems to be getting along o.k. He's a cuddle kitty, just like Attie, and I'm hoping they'll bond. Susie has been much sweeter since Regis is gone, and she and Atlas actually hang out. Regis was never too fond of LaoSue; there was always a bit of tension between them. Nevertheless, I think she missed him too the first few days. If she needs another spatting partner, Angel seems to fit the bill. Her reaction to the new kitties in her life has been less gracious. She doesn't always hiss at me when she sees me, so I guess there's progress. Kitten steps...

I found myself feeling irritated with a western Buddhist who seemed to have changed the content of his belief system, but not the process. Nothing bugs me more that someone who paints themselves in the trappings of a different belief, and then proceeds to be the same old asshole they always were. The next piece is a bit of venting I did while I was pissed at one of these folks, and it is dedicated to a certain type who frequents a certain center in KC. From March 2005...

RU 2 sensitive?

Or are you looking for a reason to hide?

Place a shell around that tender heart,

Nobody wants to hear it

Survival of the fittest, he says.

How evolved.

Careful of the self-involved pinwheels of others,

Especially if they are passing themselves off as windmills

(remember Don Quixote)

Don’t fall for your own bullshit

People who flatter are often more dangerous

Than those who risk

Revealing what they feel

Better to look like a fool

Than to be an asshole.

No one’s light shines brighter than others

Except in your own mind

Some put on sunglasses

That they pour from a bottle

Day after day

Slipping away

Never be afraid to let your light shine

Better to look like a fool

Than be an asshole

No matter how bright the light you follow to worship

Seems to be

If you don’t see the light is inside of you

You are lost

(it’s easy to be found)

Nihilistic neo-buddhists, fleeing from the west

Say it’s O.K.

Since everything sucks, or hadn’t you heard?

Might as well do what you want, since nothing matters anyway.

Nobody matters if nothing exists

Good feelings fade

Bottle after bottle

Filling the glass one more time

Another bottle down.

Blind to the light inside of you

You are lost.

(It’s so easy to be found)

Squelching the light in yourselves

You cannot help but squelch the light in others.

Words from the mind

Words from the heart.

The intellect rises, abandoning the heart

Bottle after bottle, words cloud the truth

The heart still knows.

The heart runs free, frantic and seeking

But

It’s so easy to be an asshole.

You are lost without it.

(and it’s so easy to be found)

Words from the mind

Spewing clever reasons

Bottle after empty bottle.

Words from the mind

Building walls around you

Words from the mind

Can make you an asshole

Words from the heart

Without reason or thought

Drama after empty drama

Sheltering the heart

Building walls around you

Can make you an asshole.

A machine is built by mind

An organism grows and thrives.

A heart and mind together

An organism

Grows and thrives, and inspires others to life

You might look foolish

But you won’t be an asshole.

Are you a man

Or are you a machine.

Fueled by love

Or fueled by bottles

And the people you cast away

Used, for the moment

Where will you turn when you need someone.

But that’s o.k., he thinks

Swimming in

Bottle after bottle.

Since nothing really exists.

But if it does

isn’t it possible, just maybe.

That you could be found?

Turn on the Light.

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

March 27^th, 2005

The more I sit...

Funny the things that cross your mind on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

I didn't hear from my brother when I left him a message that I was leaving KC. He comes and goes sometimes I hear from him, sometimes I don't. After the purgation of the last entry, I thought about his life, his drive towards accomplishment, always struggling to prove something, working 60 hours a week for years, too much coffee, too many cigarettes, and too much booze. Now that he has liver, kidney, and lung damage, he's cut back. He doesn't believe he'll see his youngest graduate from high school, so no more drinking, just 60 hour work weeks. For a little while longer anyway.
He never shows his feelings anymore. It seems I know too many people like that; I invite them into my life. My brother is still trying to get his fathers approval, and he'll never have it. Maybe I am still trying to prove something, to my family, to my friends, but maybe not. maybe not. Some things you see, over and over...but it does get better if you let it. You can choose to respond differently this time. Choosing from the heart is still a wiser course of action, but to have a Thinking Heart, the synthesis of mind and heart, that is my goal, what I try to accomplish as a spiritual practice.

I am not seeking anymore; I know what I need to do- I am practicing, the best I can. Every day counts.

My brother thinks I am crazy because my values are not determined by the approval of others- but most of the time I am the happier one. I love my brother, and if he needs to be critical of me to make himself feel better, then maybe not getting too bent out of shape about it is the best way I can express that love for him. It's the best I can do, and something I can practice in relating to others. God knows I have never had any shortage of people to be critical of me, invited or not. And I have put up with it- my problem, not theirs. Some of my friends think I am crazy, but none of the critical ones seem to be too happy with their lives. And when I am critical, I am usually not too happy with mine, and not doing much to improve it. I have wasted too much time on negative opinions, worrying about it, defending against it when there is no need to defend, when all I need is what I have. I am very grateful for the life I have now, and all I have to do is look back 25 years and see how wonderful my life is now.
Daily quiet, meditation, whatever you want to call it, makes me happy. Things just go better if I do it every day.

The more I sit quietly, the more it seems I know....

A mixture of grief over the loss of my beloved Regis, a change hearing of one of my favorite Talking Heads songs, and a desire to cheer up my friend Keith, and my beautiful friend Kristofer’s birthday led to the following entry on March 31^st.

The Good Thing

Everybody has them, some people are better than others at letting
it show. Some let it show way too much, and never seem to show anything
else. I read something the other day which talked about the dark
nights (and days) of the soul that brought a few things into focus.

I love it here in PDX, and it has been such a contrast to what I
found in KC that certain things have been, shall we say, illuminated. The effect a
place can have on you, and on your life. as a wise man once said, if
your passion is scuba diving near coral reefs, you'll never be really
happy in Nebraska. It’s tough to leave your friends and everything
you know behind, but the point finally came where I saw very clearly
that it would always be tougher to be where you just aren't finding
what you need to thrive.

All emotional states are visitors. They come and go, if we let
them. I have certainly hung on to more than my share of dark states of
mind, but I have also always done my best to understand them, to
understand the world I find myself in, to see what connections I could
find. The last four years have, in a sense, been the darkest of my
life; yet have revealed some of the brightest things to me.

When Sylvia died four years ago, I went into the blackest, darkest
pit I have ever been in, and for about a year I wondered if it would
ever get better. It did, and I am a much better person for it. It
hurt like hell, but I got through it. I learned that you don't have to
hang on to the good things, that they are always there for you, if they
really matter that is. And dark states will come and go, crashing
against you like the waves knock a child on his ass at the beach. No
matter what these waves feel like, or how they manifest in your life,
there would be no waves if there were not an ocean floor to hold the
water, and there is always some kind of solid ground under you, if you
know how to step back and stand firm. An overly simplistic metaphor,
but it captures the essence of how I feel.

It took me a long time to realize that all the wonder and beauty
Syl brought into my life was still with me, that it colored my
perception of the world around me, and that everyone who has ever
loved and ever will love me has illuminated. I missed Syl, but I lost
nothing. As long as I continue to express the love and good will she
gave me, I still have it, and the world, no matter how rough, is a
better place for it.

And that was the point the author was making too. It isn't about
always feeling good, it's about knowing that feeling bad is just
another transitory emotional state, and about finding a place in
yourself where you are solid, no matter what is going on around you, knowing that there is a part of yourself which matters, which can find meaning, which loves, no
matter what. How do you find this place? It's ultimately very
personal, but it is always in you, not out there, in a job, another
person, or a winning lottery ticket. You can find it by following
your heart, but finding a way to stay in touch with it. For me it
began with the realization that if I could feel as bad as I felt,
somewhere in me I must know how good I could feel, or I wouldn't know
how shitty I felt. What are you feeling right now? Has it been a
good day or a bad day? If you feel good, why do you feel good? If you
find yourself in a darker place, how do you know how dark it is if you
don't know what light is?

I sat quietly thinking about all of this, and then went for a
cup of tea to write it all out, and something came to me. Hell is the operation of the mind, without the influence of the heart. How
many times over the years have I spent night after sleepless night
THINKING THINKING THINKING about how much my life sucked, how much
happier I would be if only this, if only that, never stopping to think
about or consider what I really wanted. When I got into that place it
was like I just couldn't feel
good. Though deep down, what I wanted was to have an unshakeable
place within myself, that was always there, no matter what, that let me
know I was alright, that I was loved. What I want, and what I have
always wanted, was a good heart, to be a good hearted person. To never
question that, regardless of the circumstances around me or the
mistakes I have made. No one learns without some trial and error. I
am fortunate enough to have had fourteen years of her humor, and
unconditional love. Took me a while to see that I still have it, but
hey, I'm learning too.

Too much of my life has been
spent on untempered intellectual pursuits by feeling, unless it was negative feeling. I don't think emotions
should rule your life, but I now believe that the only real advantage
we have in life is in developing what I have seen called "the
thinking heart"(there's an essay called that on the web, no idea where
it is, but I seem to recall it was an interesting read). I want what I
want, but only if it makes me happy. I want my friends to have that
too, but each has to find their own way. If I can light a candle in
the darkness, that makes me happy. I am not, however, responsible for
others
seeing the way out of the dark and my happiness does not depend on
their success in doing so. Letting go of people does not mean to stop
loving
them, a sad mistake I have seen at the end of many relationships (my
mother and father's marriage being the biggest example I can think of.
When I was a teenager I remember just wishing they could be friends).
If there was love there, you still have it, and you always will. It
was
what YOU felt that brought you into it in the first place, wasn't it?

Most of this has settled on me gradually over the last four
years, but in Feb 2004 there was a definite shift in my perceptions. I
decided to move to Portland, then got scared and backed off, then
decided to do it again. I reached a place where I really felt like I knew that
I was alright. And strangely enough, most of 2004 was like a test of
my resolve. I received more criticism, condemnation and general hassle
than I've had in a long time. Every old button I had seemed to
get pushed, and I went through some pretty dark places in myself. (A
special thanks to Mom and my last KC employer for that, nuff said). The difference this last year was, I knew they were dark places, and I knew that all I had to do was stay with what the Talking Heads referred to as "the good thing" ,and the rough times would eventually pass, as long as I kept on doing what was right for me, and did the best I could. The
last few days in KC itself were pretty rough, most people expressed
happiness for me, but there were a few who didn't. Some people seem
to find it easier to be angry and fight than to say goodbye, even
though there are no goodbyes for true friends. Getting an apartment
with Padme has been a good example of this for me- we didn't exactly
pick up where we left off when he moved here two years ago, but we know
each other well, and the warmth and love we have had since we first
became friends is even better now. I can see what being someplace he
loves has done for him. He's still Padme, but he's more the person he
always wanted to be, doing the things he wants to do... I want that for
myself, and his enthusiasm and affection for my being here inspire me
to keep going when the shadows seem to be blocking the light in my
life. Which happens. It has been less than two months since Regis
died. One of the best and most wonderful things that has ever
happened to me has been Regis being into my life (and I can thank Sylvia
for that, too). I miss him a lot, but it’s been a lot different from
four years ago. I thought it would be tougher, but from the day he
died, I have felt certain not only of the love, loyalty and affection
he gave me for 17 years, but I have felt like I deserved it. And so, I
still have it. His spot on the bed seems empty sometimes, but if I
stop and sit with it for just a few seconds, or a few minutes, however long it takes, all the good is there for
me, and I have a little more gratitude to color my day.

What I am trying to say I guess is that it's a process. The dark days
come, but then they go. And I am better prepared for the good
things, if I am in touch with "the good thing". I have a friend who
used to say that she started her journey as a Big Eye, watching
everything. That she grew into a Big Head, thinking about everything
without ever moving (makes me think of Mr. Mackey on South Park).
She said her heart was finally growing to match her head. My process
is similar, except after the Big Head I developed a Big Mouth. (some
people have a tough time imagining that I was shy in high school, and
others wonder what that was like, probably with a bit of longing). I
also seem to have finally grown feet as well, and I hope my heart fills
the space between. Not every day is a five star day, you have to keep
it real. So why judge where you are at- if your standard of success
is within, you are always capable of being a success. No matter
what. I think it's a feeling, not a reward. Everything else is gravy.

When I was seventeen, More Songs about Buildings and Food by the
Talking Heads was one of my favorite things to listen to. It still
is. I hear it a little differently now, but that's o.k. The best
things seem to grow with meaning over time, especially friendships.
And in honor of my friend Kristofer's birthday, I am adding the lyrics
to the aforementioned Talking heads song, with my best wishes to him
and to everyone who finds themselves turning a page in their life.

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

The Good Thing

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

I will fight; will fight with my heart.

I will fight; will fight with understanding.

In my mind, the weather never changes

Skill overcomes, difficult situations.

A straight line exists between me and the good thing.

I have found the line and its direction is known to me.

Absolute trust keeps me going in the right direction.

Any intrusion is met with a heart full of the good thing.

Try to compare what I am presenting.

You will meet with much frustration.

Try to find ... similar situation.

You will always find the same solution.

As the heart finds the good thing, the feeling is multiplied.

Add the will to the strength and it equals conviction.

As we economize, efficiency is multiplied,

to the extent I am determined the result is the good thing.

So I say:

I have adopted this and made it my own:

Cut back the weakness, reinforce what is strong.

Watch me Work, Work

aaaaaaah

WORK!

April 11^th, 2005

My cat thinks I'm a whore...

Things are beginniing to settle into a groove here in PDX, and I'm just now beginning to feel like they are coming together. Atlas and LaoSue have settled in fairly well, but Attie is pretty jealous of Padme's kitties. Attie still misses Regis, I think and so do I. I wrote a lot about Regis the week he died, but I still haven't gotten anything together I want to put out there, so to speak. Honestly, I still have a hard time with the fact that he isn't waiting on the bed for me at night. In over 16 years, I think the longest I was ever away from him was four days. And he always slept on the bed with me. Still, I haven't lost sight of the fact that I am the luckiest guy on the planet to have had him by my side for so many years. But I still miss him.

LaoSue, on the other hand, seems to have adjusted well, she loves the fact that she can now sleep on the bed without hassle. And Attie is there, too. LaoSue does not seem to mind my paying attention to Thomas much, but she isn't too happy about my paying attention to Angel, Padme's other kitty. Atlas would rather I ignore them altogether, and he meows out the window indignantly when he sees me petting one of the many neighbor kitties. As soon as I come in, he plants himself on my lap and stays there. Nice to be loved.

And I still miss him being there to greet me when I get home from work, too. I kind of let the blog slide for a few months brief entries here and there, but it’s taken me a while to get settled in this summer. At least once a week, I’m hoping, and as much focus on the topic I have chosen as possible from here on…

Sheer Logic

2005-08-22T00:36:00.000-07:00

Here's an excerpt from an article a friend sent me, about a professor of math from oxford university, who seems to have been hanging out with Mel Gibson too much lately...followed by my opinion of his "work"

97 per cent Certainty Jesus
Lived And Rose
From The Dead

By Barney Zwartz
Religion Editor

TheAGE.com
7-20-5

It is 97 per cent certain that God raised Jesus Christ from the dead - based on sheer logic and mathematics, not faith - according to Oxford professor Richard Swinburne.

"New Testament scholars say the only evidence is witnesses in the four gospels. That's only 5 per cent of the evidence," Professor Swinburne, one of the world's leading philosophers of religion, said last night.

"We can't judge the question of the resurrection unless we ask first whether there's reason to suppose there is a God, second if we have reason to suppose he would become incarnate and third, if he did, whether he would live the sort of life Jesus did."

Professor Swinburne, in Melbourne to give several seminars and a public lecture at the Australian Catholic University last night, said the mathematics showed a probability of 97 per cent.

This conclusion was reached after a complex series of calculations. In simplified terms, it began with a single proposition: the probability was one in two that God exists.

Next, if God exists, the probability was one in two that he became incarnate. Further, there was a one in 10 probability that the gospels would report the life and resurrection of Jesus in the form they do.

Finally, the clincher: the probability that we would have all this evidence if it wasn't true was one in 1000.

He argued that any evidence for the existence of God was an argument for the resurrection, and any evidence against the existence of God was an argument against the resurrection."

Uh-huh.

"It is 97 per cent certain that God raised Jesus Christ from the dead - based on sheer logic and mathematics, not faith - according to Oxford professor Richard Swinburne."

Doesn't the opening paragraph and overall tone of this article bring to mind the vivid writing style if the Weekly World News ?

This fundamentalist bonehead's logical flaw is illuminated by his own so-called math. This Professor starts with one in two chance that God exists. God as he defines him in his own plodding way.

Frankly, he doesn't seem to get that his formula works with any myth, take your choice. Werewolf, Harpy or Vampire. There is a complete lack of understanding of the presence of myth or the process of metaphor in his reasoning.

Given the the dim bulb christian Vampires, Trolls, shadow dwelling Boogeymen, and the variety of medieval incubi filling the congregations of the believers these days it's small wonder that they seem to exist symbiotically with Basilisks, ,Werewolves, and Dragons that serve in our political system. And these are the same folks who constantly bitch and moan "whats wrong with these kids today" going to great lengths to control them, because they perceive questioning the absurdity of this kind of reasoning as rebellion or "mental illness"

The teenagers of today, stoned on adderol and other behavior modifying drugs have very little reason to think. They are often evaluated on their ability to memorize rote data and become perfect receptacles for propaganda. The rebellious ones have never been taught to think, but, IMHO, often demonstrate the greatest character. However, never having been taught to think means acting out their rage, or medicating it away with copious amounts of the above mentioned drugs, or whatever they can get in trade for them on the street. At least the ganja kids are mellow.

This dim-bulb professor is from Oxford, setting a new low in educational standards for this august institution. He's mastered simple arithmatic. Perfect. For a first or second grade student. Then he teeters off into a whirlwind of cognitively impaired reasoning. Based primarily in his assumption that his viewpoint, based on often badly garbled translations of a handful of ancient texts, is correct. Texts written many years after the events reported, are considered an absolute interpretation, the actual events. (The fallacy of misplaced concreteness, dear old Sir Alfred North Whitehead would have said).

Nobody knows exactly how whatever it was that went down, went down. Nobody who could show up in a court of law or at a seminar or lecture, anyway. We can determine this fellow, a carpenter by trade, a leader or teacher of some sort as well, was put down by the authorities of the time,(think of them as the King Rove and his Shrubites of their day). And that he thought it was a groovy idea to be true to yourself,speak your mind, love one another as well as yourself, and don't be too quick to judge others you don't agree with. No wonder they found him so threatening.

His followers have had an amazing long-term social and cultural impact. But we have no reliable record as to what exactly happened. (The camera crew took time off waiting for the right special effects tech to be developed so Mel Gibson, who thinks he was there, could give them jobs). And these self-proclaimed followers seem more interested in the politics of his life than they are in the example he apparently tried to give. And their definitions of "love" are sometimes as scary as their political involvements- funny how that works, huh?

But, Oops! Mel and Professor Swinburne have joined their soulmate Tom Cruise in a fantastical excursion to Neverland, where little boys never have to grow up, well, cognitively anyway. But how they can do their math when they want to prove that the point on their heads is not the only point they wish to make!

So while they are clapping their hands in the hopes of a resurrected Tinkerbelle, their legacy of poorly thought out reasoning is disseminated through a floundering educational system, more and more controlled by the greedy and desperate state, ignoring the growing angst of a great many disappointed parents who expected the schools to have made their children good citizens while they wail another reprise of Kids! from Bye Bye Birdie, always looking for a Conrad Birdie to blame, whom they will medicate insensate if they catch. Or worse. Won't be sending that boy to Oxford, although it seems to me they could probably use a few more pot smokers in the school of religion, and a few less in the math department- be interesting to hear what their say in the matter would be. God help us if they were consultants on this "project". I'd rather think they got sidetracked by a bowl of Doritos and their recently relocated "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" third season DVD set.

Coke adds Life! is more familiar to western teenagers than Jesus wept. Coke is life, is all that processes to a mind that has submitted (voluntarily or not) to the level of childish thinking that is the prêt-a-porter preferred by the demimonde of simonists and philistines who will do anything in churches, politics, and schools to get their way.

There are many reasons for seeking spiritual answers to the problems of life today, such as a government hell-bent on returning us to the dark ages, with a media that doesn't sell us any news that doesn't support corporate agenda's. And a populace who may or may not be following the leaders- too many simply no longer seem to feel they have any choice.

Overall, though, they don't faze me as much as they used to. I go out into the world every day with my head held high. I just clap my hands, and believe in Uncle Arthur from Bewitched!. And I find the courage to slough off any PC training I have received, bolstering enough courage put it the way a great many teenagers would today, "Hey, Professor Swinburne. No offense intended, Dude, but seriously- that's totally retarded".

I'll close with a line from one of the most popular philosophers still being read by teenagers, even after his death and subsequent drop-off in live media exposure. I wonder what people will think of him in 2000 years?

Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?

-Douglas Adams

Hello

2005-08-19T04:30:00.000-07:00

From Duke Corvette