Local news at 5:25

Nothing much to add to the world's chatter today. Well, I am glad Obama finally closed the nomination. He was one of the few not fooled or bullied by the Republi-con Jack-off for Iraq campaign and neither was I so he gets my vote. Plus, he kicks ass. It would be nice if someone with brains and ethics were elected to represent the US again. We're not all craven, Jesus freak, dickheads.

And, in the local front, I agreed yesterday to get involved editing a tiny monthly publication but only on condition that the current editor stay involved for another year. Then I am supposed to take over. (Aside to self: My god, what have I done?) I dreamt about it all morning. It will be okay.

And lastly, here are a few photos from the hundreds I've taken lately, out and about. Well, not entirely out and about. On second thought, three of them are through the window but you know what I mean.

Comma Coffee
worlds within worlds

Ragtag Death enters the Bird Park

Curious crow - loose feather

Silver City graveyard

And...

Ps. It is my considered opinion that Ayn Rand was a repulsive and fundamentally dishonest human being whose writings have spawned more harm in the world than good. But it does amuse me that she spoke for "Man". Her rosiness may as well have called "man", for whom she raised her shrill voice, "The Man".

Bo Diddley done gone

Crap. Bo Diddley died today. I grew up with his music. Bye-bye, Bo Diddley. See ya' further on down the line.

Local news at 5

Jimmy Chooey


I don't know what's up, but I'm about ready to scrap this blog and start fresh. The damn thing takes forever to load and I've wasted most of this fine Sunday afternoon trying to figure out why, with no success. Haloscan and YouTube are definitely slowing it down and I want to say right now, so there is no misunderstanding, I HATE HALOSCAN. When it first came out I thought it was really great but it slows the page load down, mine anyway, and you can not uninstall the fucking script. Fuck you, Haloscan. But right now the Blogger page elements take the longest, many minutes. Crazy. It has been gradually getting slower for a while now but today it's totally hung. "Waiting for Blogger". What a drag.

Sorry to waste space complaining like this. I think I'm pretty mellow, life on life's terms and all that, but crap like this throws me into a heart stopping rage. In frustration, I went out and pruned a bunch of dead wood out in the yard. It just happened to be the neighbor's tree. Somebody needed to do it. The guy whose tree it is sits in his garage smoking cigars and drinking most of the day. He's a great guy but has been undergoing chemo treatment on and off for last year or so and is really run down. Unfortunately, I went about things in my usual backwards fashion. After I snipped off a few egregious branches, I asked him if he'd like me to prune the thing. He said no. Said he'd do it later. We had the same conversation last year, after I pruned his the same tree. Does this mean I'm a bad person?

In other news, Jack's back. He's a sweet little dog who has lived at the shelter for over a year now then last Saturday we thought his angel had finally arrived. A guy from Tahoe met and adopted him, all in the same day. I heard this was in the works and went out the next day to say good-bye but Jack had already moved into his new, 4,000 sq. ft. home on the lake. Unfortunately, it proved to be too much, too soon. Two days later Jack was back. It's hard adjusting to life on the outside. Ask anyone who's been incarcerated. Next time, the shelter is going to make sure that Jack and his potential adopters spend time getting to know one another before taking the plunge. Makes sense. I wish they'd thought of it earlier.

We had a canine guest ourselves last week, alias Jimmy. He was dropped off at the shelter on Memorial Day but, officially it was closed. Luckily, a few of us volunteers were there walking the residents. I was elected to take Jimmy home for the night. I think he had a great time... at least he ate lots of cookies, slept on a soft rug. We took two long walks and he slept right next to me on the floor that night. In fact, at one point, I woke up because he was standing with his head on the mattress watching me. A really sweet fellow. When I took him in to the shelter the next day, the receptionist recognized him right away as Chooey, a previous shelter resident, and called the owner. The idiot hadn't bothered to give the poor, old guy an ID tag. I don't know what people think. Apparently nothing.

Old friends and dog tricks

I'm on the run. An old friend of mine, Alice Stuart, is in town. When I was first starting out, Alice was one of the first friends I made. She's a musician currently doing a short tour starting with a free concert in Minden, the neighboring town. Until a recently installed sign, not many people even knew where Gardnerville ended and Minden began. But we're not so far off the map. Bill Clinton dropped by the town hall a while ago and on Friday, Alice will be giving a free concert in the park before heading off to a paying gig in Napa. Anyway, I'm picking her and Pat up and we're off to dinner in South Lake Tahoe then I'm reading at an open mic hosted by the Tahoe Writing Club at the Valhalla Grand Hall.

And, here's a little video just in case you're looking for new ways to mess with your dog.

From here to oblivion

Train tunnel in central Nevada
from a drive-through we did a few years ago


When I open the door to the Bird Park, birds scatter leaving the place instantly empty. Often the same thing happens when I sit down to the keyboard to commit a few thoughts to the page. Poof. I enter Oblivion.

So it was this morning. Usually about daybreak, aftereffects from the Midnight Special ... vivid, sometimes coherent, immediate thoughts and impressions ... run through my mind in a torrent of images or words like a dictation, a movie, or a train. Today it was in the form of an essay on salvation but now, sitting here with the fingers of my left hand resting lightly on asdf and the fingers of my right hand gently touching ;lkj, the words have vanished into the Tunnel of Oblivion. I know I'm an opinionated ass but I have to wrestle it out with the demon of the blank page somehow so I jotted down the drift of what was on this morning's train.

Admittedly, the idea of salvation has a tawdry "something for nothing" appeal, change without having to work for it. Just ask. The_Savior picks up the tab and, abracadabra, you are sin-free, holding a one-way ticket to heaven in your sweaty little hand. All Believers do to activate their Get Out of Hell card is agree to be mindless, obedient sheep or, for the more aggressive, "Soldiers for the Lord". Easy-peasy. Self-examination, aside from an appropriate level of guilt, is discouraged. It betrays a lack of faith.

No wonder fundamentalism is the religion of choice for politicians worldwide. Like awareness, personal accountability is unnecessary, in fact, subversive. After all, wouldn't want Believers empowering themselves. What would happen to the flock? For the same reason, salvationists despise logic and reasoning. Furthermore, religion does not require followers to be good. It requires they be good Christians, good Muslims, good Jews or good whatevers. This over compassion because, by nature, acts of compassion are promiscuous, anarchical, amoral. God forbid! They transcend religious authority.

Otherwise, after a week of unseasonably hot weather, the morning wind carried snowflakes and rain. Oh, and the Huffpo ban against me is lifted. I'm not sure what happened. I did write them a couple of letters about how I respect and observe their comments policy. I had to do that much. I was, after all, innocent. Never got a reply but yesterday I just happened to log on and found that I could post again. But now I don't care so much and all the better. I'd like to think I have better things to do than fire off comments on some damn website but boy do I get hooked. But I like the photos and headlines. It's an upscale news and gossip rag but, really, the content isn't updated that often but I'm glad to be back. Anyway, for all that it matters, I might as well be scrawling my opinions out in long hand and taping them to the window for the crows to read or hell, even posting them here.

Before I close, I have to say I am really disgusted by my neighbors. They have a nice, fenced grassy backyard but every day they lock their sweet little dog Star up in a 4x4 cage with a concrete floor, plastic roof, a bowl of water and a barrel she is supposed to crawl up into if she wants a bed. She NEVER uses it. I realize she's got it better than most animals in the world but still it's very sad because she lays on that cold, hard floor all day and cries to herself. Too bad if they don't want to pick up poop from the lawn, or whatever their damn excuse is. Her owners are so fat they are oblivious to that fact that, unless your bones are covered by layers of blubber like theirs are, lying around on concrete all day hurts!


Dogs need to ride

Animals in the aftermath

In case, like me, you've been wondering how the critters are faring in Sichuan since the giant quake on May 12th, there are a few photos here.

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.


McCain's YouTube Problem Just Became a Nightmare




John McCain flip flop straight talk Real McCain

Louie Louie

Louie
Went for a walk in the desert with Louie today. He's a chow/husky mix out at the shelter. Another sweetie. And then Dixie and I went for a stroll. She's an older dog and noted as shy but likes women. Does she ever. She wiggled right up onto my lap and licked my face. But I'm worried about Capt. Jack. He's terribly, terribly thin. He's a great dog but been at the shelter for a year now. I don't get it. Perhaps people think he's sick. Maybe he is. I put a note on dry erase board about it but next time I went out there it had been erased. However, a decision was recently made to up his food to two bowls a day. Two bowls? WTF?! So dogs should only get hungry once a day? Do you only eat once or twice a day? How many Americans go long enough between meals to even get hungry? Arg.

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.

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.

Snail teeth
Or so I read this morning over at PurpleSlinky.

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.

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

Old crows and Mother's Day

An old crow with knobby knees dropped by the Bird Park this morning just after I refreshed the peanut supply. I'm partial to old birds these days and anyone else who happened to make it through the winter one more time. No matter how luxurious the mossy cushion, we all live between a rock and hard place. Stick around long enough and you'll see what I mean.

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.

Tom Waits press conference

I love this guy. Tom waits for no one.

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 3^rd 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

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.

Three-year old BARBARO, fatally
injured in the Kentucky Derby, 2006

For however much this beautiful filly might have "loved to run", she is another victim of brutal, greed driven cruelty. Horse racing is just another example of how we exploit animals for our special "entertainment." It's touted as the "sport of kings" (only because it takes a king's ransom to foot the cost) but I rank right it right along with dog racing, cock fights, horse fights (a favorite in China), bull fights, circuses, zoos, and the rest of the animal entertainment industry and so-called "sports" which depend on us ruthlessly cross-wiring the animal's talents with the most basic instinct, one we all share, fight or flight. We provoke, force, train, taunt, strain, whip, starve and beat animals into extreme reactions to extreme conditions ... for our profit and amusement, not because the animals want to sacrifice themselves for us.

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.


Barbaro's fatal fall

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

Eight Belles Barbaro Kentucky Derby horse racing

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.......

Bicycle Day revisited or RIP Albert Hofmann?

Kumar's apartment bldg, NYC

According to a not yet now confirmed rumor on Reddit, Dr. Albert Hofmann, the inventor of LSD, who celebrated his 102nd birthday this last January, is dead. 102. Imagine that! If so RIP, Dr. Hofmann. Bon voyage and thanks again!

"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

Bicycle Day

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

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 houndsBob 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

Crossroad

WWFSMD?

Seems to me America has outgrown the two party system. Watching Obama and Clinton duke it out, I'd say the Dems are split beyond repair, which conveniently takes the heat off the Repubs who are themselves only held together by the tattered posters of McCain plastered over their numerous rifts, ruptures, schisms, scandals, war crimes, high crimes and misdemeanors.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying convince you of anything but I do assume that a savvy person such as yourself is, at least in part, as weary as I of this political charade. What the hell? Let the shards fall where they will. I think the differences between the Progressive and Corporate points of view are irreconcilable and make no mistake ... for however many shots she knocks back at the local bar while the press is watching, Clinton represents the Corporate Elite not We, the People.

Sinkin' down

The Cheney/Bushwackers have abandoned America at the legendary crossroads where they made their deal with the Devil. Both McCain and Clinton, Neocon and Neocon Lite, are determined to consummate the deal. I can only hope that Obama actually does represent CHANGE and that he gets elected. We need to reclaim our collective American soul from the deal makers and war profiteers, the torturers and hedge fund traitors, and the rest of the power elite who would trade it finally and forever to secure their "Bottom Line Billions". But not to worry. If nothing else, the planet itself will pull us up short. Something is gonna' give.


Robert Johnson - CROSSROAD

Hillary's lament

A sad, must see response to Hillary's ad
3 AM in Hillary's Neighborhood

01:47

In case you missed Hillay's whine* about how she is currently the victim of a vast left wing conspiracy, here's what she had to say about people outside her neocon lite Beltway clique:

"Moveon.org endorsed [Sen. Barack Obama] -- which is like a gusher of money that never seems to slow down," Clinton said to a meeting of donors. "We have been less successful in caucuses because it brings out the activist base of the Democratic Party. MoveOn didn't even want us to go into Afghanistan. I mean, that's what we're dealing with. And you know they turn out in great numbers. And they are very driven by their view of our positions, and it's primarily national security and foreign policy that drives them. I don't agree with them. They know I don't agree with them. So they flood into these caucuses and dominate them and really intimidate people who actually show up to support me."

*Audio clip at Huffingpost

Excuse me now while I go flip MoveOn another two bucks.

Back breaking labors

I'm at Comma Coffee for the moment, relaxing after a Dr.'s appointment. Seems I've been walking around with a fractured spine for a while. Makes sense. I eat an awful lot of Ibuprofen and Tylenol. Yum. Next I have to see a specialist about possible surgery. Better not interfere with our plans to dog sit this summer while my brother and his wife are in London. Three weeks in Seattle! I won't give that up lightly. So anyway...

More photos from the Tonopah graveyard from our recent trip. A fascinating place, history in the nude. The Great State of Nevada was settled by immigrants from all over the world who came seeking their fortune.

Most lived hard, short lives.

The people who settle in Tonopah were no exception.

Given that Area 51 is next door,
you never know who you'll meet in Tonopah
or even which time frame they're from...
past, present or FUTURE.

So, what the hell? For good measure I'm throwing in a UFO video for your viewing pleasure. The narrator claims it could be the "most important video in the history of mankind." Too bad the dummy mispronounces the word Nevada.


Interview with an Alien

10:00

Mo's happy ending

After two years at the shelter, and a lot of love and work, Mo finally got adopted yesterday by one of the volunteers at DAWG, the animal shelter  where I also enjoy the privilege of taking walks in the desert with some of the four-legged residents and enjoying their soothing company. It was a happy ending for a poor fellow who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, doing what pit bulls do so well, fighting to the finish.

A few years ago Mo and Joe found themselves in some serious trouble but, thanks to a network of compassionate people, neither were put down. Instead Joe went to the Reno shelter and Mo lived at the no-kill shelter here. Ironically, most people in America who make mistakes end up in the human "justice" system that humiliates, undermines and better prepares them for more of the same. By their release, many are more desperate and angry than when they came in. Not so for Mo. DAWG volunteers and trainers help animals change their attitude and outlook for the better so Sunday, after a big farewell party at the shelter, Mo began his new life with people who love and know how to provide a safe, sane environment for a pit. For the better part of two years, volunteers simply sat in Mo's cage and read out loud to him. In the beginning, he ran outside as huddled at the far end of his run but the reader kept reading. No one tried to touch him. No one raised their voice to him. They read as Mo huddled and gradually he shortened the distance until, finally, he stood listening at the door. And still the reading went on, with an occasional, "Hello, Mo. Whose a good boy?"

It was a long time yet before Mo would let anyone touch him but finally he did and those few people were finally able to take him for walks in the yard. And so it went. Love and patience won. Today, Mo went home with his new family to his new, forever home.

It seemed to me that Mo was more eager to get out the door and on with it than party, but we humans are a sentimental lot. People that worked with him over the last two years needed "closure" so Mo dutifully sniffed his gifts and pretended to be interested as his humans opened them for him. And he gulped a few treats while people laughed and downed cup cakes and ice cream. Then, finally, Mo when home.






This morning, Mo's family emailed everyone photos from the party and a detailed account of his first day. If you aren't already saturated with cloying sweetness, give it a read. Sounds like Mo is one grateful, happy pooch.

Saying good-bye to the girl at the front desk

Letter from Mo and Family.

Just wanted to thank everyone that came today for Mo's send off and also anyone that wasn't able to attend that has love in their heart for him. I was overwhelmed with all the gifts. Mo and all of us thank you soooooo much. He has been so good. He had his nose right up to the air conditioner almost the whole trip home. (I think he prefers my Honda to ride in as it's easier for him to see out of.) As soon as I got him home Ron's youngest son, Jake and I got him into the shower and started to get him clean. He was being very good so I ran to get the camera and when I got back there was water all over the floor and there he was wagging his tail so hard against the wall that the tip of his tail was bleeding a little. We got him back in and rinsed off. Jake walked him around for awhile then I got him and we laid on the floor together for awhile (of course with all kinds of kisses from him) I think I'll have to invest in a plug in air freshener as he is very prone to gas. He paid little attention to the birds so maybe when we are home he can be in the living room with them (as long as they are in their cages as I don't want to take a chance). Then Mo spent some time in his pen with Ron working on the doggie door. I went out to take him for a pottie break and he didn't want to stay out long and dragged me back inside the house. I had him on the leash and sat on the couch and he jumped up and was rubbing on the couch putting his nose between the cushions and had a great big grin on his face. Ron sat down and Mo went back and forth between us almost standing on his head at times he was being so crazy and happy. Then all at once he stopped and immediately fell asleep. He kept hogging all the couch so I finally sat on the floor. He looked so happy and contented. Well that's it for now. It was such a great day. Thanks again. Nancy