Sorry to do this. Politics suck but it is the season and we must be informed. Our freedom depends on it. All it will require is three minutes and fifteen seconds of your time. Oh, and pass it along.
John McCain flip flop straight talk Real McCain
Language itself is a barrier.
19/05/2008
18/05/2008
Louie Louie
Just sayin'
Just noticed I have a clump of dirt stuck to one knee and two long blades of grass stuck to the other. Excuse me a second. There. I've been out in the garden pruning stuff. Didn't mean to but I ruined a nice, moist green forest a bunch of potato bugs were enjoying this morning. I hate it when I do that. I like to think of myself as a good guy but to the potato bugs I was a really shitty neighbor.
I came in and read Don's post about his father's illness and the dismal state of health care in America. We just went through something similar with M. Lee's dad, pneumonia, a struggle getting him out of the house and into the hospital. He's home now and doing just fine, in case you're wondering but it could have been that jumping off place. Perhaps you've been there too. Without modern medicine, I'd have died twenty years ago from a staph infection. Ugly way to go.
In nature, sick, injured, or old animals are eaten alive or, if they're lucky, walk off, curl up and die alone. Maybe even in peace. And there was that time in human history when, if you were cool, you shoved off in your little boat to die at sea or vanished into the forest before you were too much of a burden.But here we are, in the great US of A, and most of us don't have any health care, or very good health care, what to speak of universal health coverage. And we can't even opt for the boat. If only it were a political problem with a political solution. Personally, I want everyone to live and die in comfort, surrounded by loved ones. Everyone. Including animals. And I want to close the slaughterhouses, end war, abolish poverty, stop global warming. But I don’t think those are political problems either. Or a question of the Right god. Not really. If they are, we’re screwed.
17/05/2008
The world about us
Did you know that ants never sleep and mosquitoes have 47 teeth? I sure didn't and, I must admit, find that information slightly disturbing. But here's an interesting tidbit for people, like myself, who are fond of the lowly snail. If you don't like them ... you know who you are ... better hold on to your chair. Snails have over 25,000 teeth.
Or so I read this morning over at PurpleSlinky.
15/05/2008
Kerouac reading
Nice mix. Jack Kerouac reading from Visions of Cody with Steve Allen on the piano dubbed over the opening to the Woody Allen 1979 film, Manhattan. I like it better than Woody's version which is way too in his head for me. Jack? Jack is heart.
12/05/2008
Bad Mother's Day poem
It's Bad Mother's Day again. I had planned to do a wily post about it with another ironic video, this year even include a photo or two from the ol' family album but here it is, nearly 9 o'clock, and I'm just getting started. A good mother would have prepared the post before hand, started planning the video weeks ago, poured through the photos for just the right ones days, if not weeks, in advance. I thought about it. That's something. And I did this post before midnight. That's pretty good.
Okay. In observance of Bad Mother's Day, I will include a poem I wrote three or four years ago. It's part of a book I haven't finished yet. I'd look for something more appropriate but at nine I want to watch a movie so I'm kind of short on time and besides it is, in it's own way, about mothers or by daughters to mothers or daughters who later became mothers. Close enough. Happy Bad Mother's Day. Take heart. Your best may not be good enough but it probably could be worse.
CONTACT LANGUAGE – Page 1
excerpt from Book of Images, la obra inconclusa
Mother,
the inky
spindly cities
are in ruins
alphabets adrift
reconstruction impossible
the land is without refuge
a diameter without dimension
echo answering echo
emptiness consoling emptiness
I am writing you
from a crumbling church
where in its thick-rooted dark
I found a few others
by their heavy breath
snorts, sighs and whispered speech
and one by the drifting refrains
of her off-key devotions
otherwise only the rain
is true to itself
falling
it has also taken shelter here
just inside the door
falling
where an old man
hesitates between worlds
gulping like a fish
falling
on the brown-frocked monk
watching us both
rebar poking through
his scotch-taped hand.
~asha
08/05/2008
Old crows and Mother's Day
Other than that, the reading went well last night. The writers there are putting together a war protest exhibit this summer and invited us to contribute. No restrictions. No censors. My kind of thing. Maybe I will. And we are going to Oregon for Mother's Day. M. Lee is going to be the gift. Very sweet.
This year, as a Mother's Day gift, my daughter donated to Mercy Corps on my behalf, to help the cyclone survivors in Myanmar. I followed her good example and made a donation on behalf of my mom, who has been dead for many years. It never occurred to me to do that before. So Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you. I hope you know that even though I was such a terrible daughter.
Our trip to Oregon will not be a surprise but my daughter did surprise me with a visit one year. She arranged it with M. Lee. I didn't suspect a thing that morning when he told me he had to run to Reno on a "quick errand". He picked her up at the airport and they tracked me down at a secondhand store where I was browsing. I came to the end of the shelf of cooking pots and dented, one-of kitchen wares and ... there she was! Or somebody. I looked. Smile back. She kept looking and smiling a big, beatific smile. I was in shock. I didn't know who she was. My daughter could not be in Nevada. She was in Portland! I knew that so I made a shrewd assessment of the situation and concluded that either: A) I had just died and my daughter, who is actually an angel (something I have suspected since her birth), has now come to escort me to the next world, or B) this obviously transcendent being, who just happened to look a lot like my daughter, had simply decided to shine her light in the thrift shop that morning because, after all, it is well know that angels are unpredictable and enjoy doing quirky things from time to time just for the hell of it.
So, mark your calendars. Sunday is also the beginning of Bear Awareness Week. And, for those of us who, in spite of having great kids, were crummy moms, don't forget. Monday is Bad Mother's Day.
07/05/2008
WNC reading
Along with several others from Ash Canyon, I was invited to read tonight at WNC this evening so, if you're in the area and up for a night of poetry, drop on by.
Date: Wednesday, May 7
Time: 7:00 PM
Place: WNC
Marilee Swirczek’s Class “Poetry for Prose Writers”
Bristlecone Building (main building, with the flag):
Go inside, then up ramp to 3rd floor, then left, to end of hallway
Hasta la vista, Hillary
Bye-bye, Hillary. You made history as a woman. You are history as a politician.
Ps. That's what you get for using Rove's dirty play book.
I was recently banned from commenting on Huffingtonpost. NOT because I swear more. Actually, I don't. And I don't make personal attacks on other commenters. Obviously, somebody has it in for me. Perhaps the grammar police? The last comment to make it past the censors at Huffpo contained bad grammar. M. Lee? (I swear, if I left a suicide note with incorrect grammar, spelling or punctuation, he would red pencil it and send it back). He thinks it's great I got banned. That I'll stop wasting time there. But I do love the fray. Ah well. The result is that, at least until I get addicted to another website, I am going to (occasionally) post comments here. How this differs from the rants category, I can't exactly say but it is different.
N ya cain't ban meh. Take that, censors... !@#! HA!
Huffington Post Hillary
04/05/2008
Yay! Grumpy gets a home
I shouldn't call him Grumpy. The dude is from circumstance but that only makes this even BIGGER GOOD NEWS. This weekend Scotty, the grumpy little terrier, moved out of the shelter and in with his loving new family Ingrid, Lucifer and Mimi.
Well, Ingrid is loving. Lucifer and Mimi? Everyone knows it takes cats time to warm up to anybody, especially if that "anybody" is some fellow who decides to confiscate their bed.
This is all too, too sweet because Scotty is ... well ...was... you know, could be a bit of a grouch at the shelter but Ingrid knew that before she adopted him. The wonder of love. I'll bet that soon Scotty will be soooooo mellow even the cats will cuddle up with him.
Letter from Ingrid below:
Hello Ursula,
So far, so good. After Scotty's second walk (shortly after 7PM), he is finally napping. You'll be happy to know that the little fellow settled in quite nicely. All day he followed me around like, well, a dog (smile). He really enjoys having the run of the backyard. He's protecting me against birds and outside cats, and he also is a terrific watchdog, barking a bit when he sensed someone moving about in the yard back of the neighboring house. He stopped as soon as I said no. Good dog, eh? When I had a bite to eat, I learned that he is a little beggar. He also told Lucifer and Mouche, in no uncertain terms, that they should stay away when there's food around. He really hurt poor Lucifer's feelings, poor thing went into hiding for the rest of the afternoon. And my kitten is still camped out under the bed. I had to put Scotty outside before Lucifer and Mimi could be persuaded to come out of their hiding places. Not to worry, though, things will settle down. This is, after all, only day one. I'm afraid Mr. Scotty had a few too many treats today; he didn't eat too much of his dinner. Or, perhaps, it's because he was fed in the morning at the shelter? He is currently sound asleep on the cat bed under my computer table. I think he has tried almost every bed in the house. And you know what else he did? He jumped up on the sofa and almost got on my lap. Almost. There also has been a lot of tail wagging. I think he likes it here.
We'll have to try to take a few more photos on Thursday, yes? Everyone can relax. He is adjusting to his new surroundings amazingly fast.
Thank you and all the D.A.W.G. volunteers for having done such an excellent job of rehabilitating, nursing back to health, and socializing Scotty. I'll do my best to provide a good, safe home for him.
Tschüß, Ingrid
Sleep tight, Scotty
RIP Eight Belles
Three-year old Eight Belles, moments
before being killed after she broke her
two front ankles in the Kentucky Derby.
I don't know what Eight Belles means to her owners but according to Wikipedia, "eight bells is a way of saying that a sailor's watch is over, for instance, in his or her obituary. It's a nautical euphemism for "finished". For the three-year old filly Eight Belles, her end was yesterday's Kentucky Derby after her stunning, second place victory resulted in BOTH her front ankles breaking. She was put down where she fell and I am outraged.
After her death, her trainer Larry Jones, told the media, "They put their life on the damn line. She was glad to do it." Bullshit, Larry! You are blinded by self-centeredness.
We bet on their lives. They always lose. Not just the ones culled early in the game, the ones discarded like trash before they ever make it to the limelight. "Winner" or "loser", none of them end well. What's with us? Seems to me, when all our other excuses fail, we use religion to dignify our cruelty and greed. "Dominion over the animals"? My ass. I agree with Ghandi, "The greatness of a nation and its morals can be judged by the way its animals are treated". About her death, winning jockey Kent Desormeaux said, "Eight Belles showed you her life for our enjoyment today. I'm deeply sympathetic to that team for their loss." Not my pleasure, bub. Rest in peace, baby girl.
The Rescue
by Robert Creeley
The man sits in a timelessness
with the horse under him in time
to a movement of legs and hooves
upon a timeless sand.
Distance comes in from the foreground
present in the picture as time
he reads outward from
and comes from that beginning.
A wind blows in
and out and all about the man
as the horse ran
and runs to come in time.
A house is burning in the sand.
A man and horse are burning.
The wind is burning.
They are running to arrive.
The Horseracing Industry: Drugs, Deception, and Death
02/05/2008
Between the cracks
Yesterday was the day we were supposed to leave for Central America. Lucky we postponed the trip. Good thing with my broken back. Not a good time to go backpacking. And the fracture is just part of the problem. My spine is messed up. The doctor asked me several times what in the world I did to end up in this condition. Really messed up. At the time I didn't have an answer. I have always jokingly claimed my problem came from chopping wood and carrying water after enlightenment, "after" being the joke but I don't think anyone ever got it. It never elicited more than a blank stare. But, looking at my old MRI, seems this fracture occurred sometime in the last three years. Who knows? But it's just the latest in a long list of problems. I have to do a couple more tests before we come up with a treatment plan but looks like my summer's shaping up. How about yours?
The other day, in the wee hours of the morning, before I'd even opened my eyes, I started going over the what, where and why of it. Actually, it's a bit complicated but chopping wood and carrying water did play a part. Why I chopped wood and carried water and tubs of laundry through a mud field daily played another. The where and when was during my days at Madhuvan on the Krsna commune in West Virginia. I don't have the time or energy to go into it today. I'm feeling rushed and scattered but I did google up an article on Madhuvan if you want read a bit about that. It's from the Brijabasi Spirit, the same old magazine I used to write for way back then. It's online now, like everything else. We used to mimeograph it. We even bought a letterpress to print it on, which is harder than cranking a mimeo machine and thus worth more devotional credit, but the farm hand devotees didn't like us press devotees and when they delivered it to Vahna's house, instead of lowering it carefully off the flatbed, they pushed it off and it broke into, not a million pieces, but nevertheless couldn't, or shall I say the blacksmith devotees, wouldn't put it back together again.
Then again.... maybe one of my kids have been playing hopscotch .... hhhhhummmmmmmm.......
29/04/2008
Bicycle Day revisited or RIP Albert Hofmann?
According to a
"In answer to my inquiry about the sourse of the news, a commenter replied that he learned of Hofmann's death in a personal email from Rick Doblin, head of MAPS (Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies). Doblin wrote him that, "Albert had a heart attack at 9am at home and died a swift, painless death. RIP." I guess if anyone, Doblin is in a position to know.
Whatever the case, naturally I got to thinking about the good old days, especially in New York during the '60's when Tim Leary's old friend and former colleague, Ralph Metzner, brought us boxes of tiny vials of beautiful liquid amber LSD direct from Sandoz Lab in Switzerland, where Hofmann worked when he invented it, to Kumar's tiny apartment on W. 14th. Sacrament. It was great for a while but eventually it got complicated. You know how that goes. So.... anyway....
In honor of Dr. Hofman's discovery and the unending task/adventure of reducing ego and expanding consciousness, here's a recounting of his, the First Trip, otherwise known as Bicycle Day" (via Wikipedia).
Dr. Albert Hofmann holding a model of the LSD molecule
On April 19, Dr. Hofmann intentionally ingested 250 micrograms of LSD, which he hypothesized would be a threshold dose, based on other ergot alkaloids. After ingesting the substance Hofmann was struggling to speak intelligibly and asked his laboratory assistant, who knew of the self-experiment, to escort him home on his bicycle, due to the lack of available vehicles during wartime restrictions. On the bicycle ride home, Hofmann's condition became more severe and in his journal he stated that everything in his field of vision wavered and was distorted, as if seen in a curved mirror. Hofmann also stated that while riding on the bicycle, he had the sensation of being stationary, unable to move from where he was, despite the fact that he was moving very rapidly. Once Hofmann arrived safely home, he summoned a doctor and asked his neighbor for milk, believing it may help relieve the symptoms. Hofmann wrote that despite his delirious and bewildered condition, he was able to choose milk as a nonspecific antidote for poisoning. Upon arriving the doctor could find no abnormal physical symptoms other than extremely dilated pupils. After spending several hours terrified that his body had been possessed by a demon, that his next door neighbor was a witch, and that his furniture was threatening him, Dr. Hofmann feared he had become completely insane. In his journal Hofmann said that the doctor saw no reason to prescribe medication and instead sent him to his bed. At this time Hofmann said that the feelings of fear had started to give way to feelings of good fortune and gratitude, and that he was now enjoying the colors and plays of shapes that persisted behind his closed eyes. Hofmann mentions seeing "fantastic images" surging past him, alternating and opening and closing themselves into circles and spirals and finally exploding into colored fountains and then rearranging themselves in a constant flux. Hofmann mentions that during the condition every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a passing automobile, was transformed into optical perceptions. Eventually Hofmann slept and upon awakening the next morning felt refreshed and clearheaded, though somewhat physically tired. He also stated that he had a sensation of well being and renewed life and that his breakfast tasted unusually delicious. Upon walking in his garden he remarked that all of his senses were "vibrating in a condition of highest sensitivity, which then persisted for the entire day".
Update: In case you're interested, here is an extended quote from Rick Doblin's email.
"Albert died at home at 9 AM Basel time from a myocardial infarction, quick and relatively painless. Two caretakers were there with him at the time. The only people who were told were people from Burg, the village where he lived, and Peter and others were surprised the word of his death had gotten out so quickly. It's the age of the internet...
Albert had been increasingly thinking of death these last few months. He had stopped leaving his home, where he said he could feel the spirit of Anita, his wife who died December 20, 2007. He didn't come to the World Psychedelic Forum a month ago, but did entertain some visitors at his home. We spoke on the phone the day after the Basel conference and he was happy and fulfilled. He'd seen the renewal of LSD psychotherapy research with his own eyes, as had Anita. I said that I looked forward to discussing the results of the study with him in about a year and a half and he laughed and said he'd try to help the research however he could, either from this side or "the other side".
Now it even more falls on younger generations to transform LSD into a legal medicine and beyond that into a tool for personal growth legally available to all."
Rick
Source here.
Albert Hofmann LSD Bicycle Day RIP, Albert
27/04/2008
Desert walk
Yesterday a friend and I went out to the local, very cool, no-kill animal shelter and walked a couple of the dogs. The place is located near the dump and recycling center so a lot of junk blows out of trucks headed for the place. Marie's like me. Can't stand seeing trash in nature so along the way we picked a couple of bags out the sage and managed to stuff them until they were overflowing with garbage. Very satisfying.
Garbage hounds
Bob is a great sport and enjoyed picking up trash every bit as much as we did.
Link and I examine an abandoned but very handy construction.What is it? A combined hitching post/wilderness bench/hay storage?
Desert spring
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