Its time for the annual pre-sesshin pre-summer camp party.
Featuring Umphrey's McGee.
The cast will be slightly different this year.
I remember the facebook post from last year:
Bharat Malkani, Keller Williams, the bad twins and the Chillicothe rain.
Or something like that.
This year the post could be something like:
Keller, the bad twins, some Leftover Salmon, Rostov (and Gogol) and Lili Marlene.
But we shall see. No since writing history until its past. Kind of defeats the whole purpose.
So the soundtrack going into the sesshin will surely be the Mantis.
A riff for each decade, starting with the 60s to the 90s and everything in between. Then compressed together like a rock opera. Something like this:
We believe there's something here worth dying for.
Uniforms are old but we'll still try some more.
I'd probably be wrong if I was right.
The breeze (it sees?) from all considerations.
Turmoil stands like old rubberbands unbreaking.
And anything worth mentioning need not be too polite.
We won't mind.
I've seen
Much bigger, more than me.
Your will
Be done.
I'm not the only one.
The task
It seems
A backwards path
When things are said in context
Big enough to wrap in boxes
The things we'd say
Aren't easy to replace
Be brief if you're unsure
That's much braver than before.
So what's your point?
Who's the next you will annoint.
There's nowhere to transcend to
If we've got no ears to lend you.
I hate to say it.
You're no replacement.
Excuse you cannot buy.
Seems so aimless
Too short and painless.
The truth you cannot hide.
The trouble measures
There's something better
There's one more word to try.
I hate to say it.
You're no replacement.
I'm never good at lies.
Never good with lies. (4x)
Had you thought about it?
Could you live without it?
'Cause it's all about you in the end.
And it's so elaborate
(And it's all around you)
But you never had her
(But she turned around on you)
And you cannot grab it if you try.
One trial down. At least one more to go in the next month. Maybe another 3 before the summer's over. Time to have a little fun:-)
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Tattoo You, Ch. 8
Two new concepts and several new characters are introduced:
Concept 1:
1. Sarabi Pong. Which became necessary because:
2. She wants to avert a class war by starting one. #capitalismsucks.
New Characters:
1. Loreli of the Tom Tom Club. Hereinafter "L"
2. Chadicus Llamacus. Hereinafter "CL"
The Dialog:
SS (Sarabi): This table is reserved for the communist party.
OOP (Omniscient, Omnipotent Narrator): We are great in theory, but we suck in practice.
CL: What we need is a benevolent leader.
OOP: The leader doesn't exist because power corrupts absolutely.
SS: I will be that leader. I will rule the galaxy.
OOP: That is the purpose behind Sarabi Pong. To keep you modulated from going to extremes. When in the course of Sarabi events, it becomes necessary to construct a game, namely "Sarabi Pong" to prevent you from going over to the dark side.
L: People who have the balls and ideals to form a communist government must step aside after the government is formed.
SS: I don't know who said this, but Capitalism is War, Socialism is Peace.
CL: You said it.
OOP: It is against my religion to drink
(5 minutes later): Revision #1. It is against my religion to drink anything but vodka.
SS: Will's wife is such a bitch. Like an attention craving kid.
CL: Probably, I already thought she was a spoiled little rich girl.
SS: I know. Maybe being an attention slut is her full time job.
CL: She pours like three drinks a week. You call that work?
SS: I shall rule the earth and the Milky Way.
L: Ok, chill babies. So--we need the revolutionary war figurehead--assuming success we need a benevolent idealistic overlord, and another to redistribute the wealth and spoils of war fairly. We need a gang of at least three.
CL: A benevolent overlord sounds like it is some sort of oxymoron, right?
L: Yes, unless its merely a figurehead position. I forgot the judicial system, which is crucial and must not be corrupted at all cost. I nominate the OOP for the judicial overlord position.
SS: I second that nomination.
OOP: The OOP cannot be trusted. Trust me I know. I have inside information.
L: I doubt that. Very well, I nominate myself. I can be trusted. Trust me.
CL: I like cats.
L: We followed a cat on our walk. All hail our feline overload.
CL: I whole heartedly agree. Everybody wants to be a cat. Because a cat's the only cat who knows where its at.
OOP: You people are so overrated. Is that all you got? I need some inspiration here.
SS: You are jealous of our life.
CL: Yes. Definitely. We ate sushi and drank wine in the park. You, on the other hand, live in green jell-o.
SS: I'm glad the Buddha and Saad took a night off.
SS: I don't think the OOP appreciates us taking up all the space on his legal pad with the enormity of our discourse. But what does he want from us? A life changing story in one hazy drunken night?
Can we change the world with the profundity of our thoughts?
L: If so, it would make the trivial loss of one legal pad seem worthwhile.
CL: We may need more than one legal pad. We have a bunch of good shit.
SS: I think instead of changing this corrupt fucking decaying world we should start over with a new planet. Yes, indeed, my friends. I am suggesting starting over. Drop your iPhones--we are starting from scratch. No electricity, cars, grocery stores--grow your own food--communicate with words. Its our new manifesto--LETS START OVER!
L: You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.
SS: I can, because I can do anything.
L: Horticulturists Unite!
SS: Abort the war on women!
CL: I feel so awkward when I see people wearing Aeropostale in public. Like I really can't believe I sold them that.
SS: He he he....like Will's wife?
Concept 1:
1. Sarabi Pong. Which became necessary because:
2. She wants to avert a class war by starting one. #capitalismsucks.
New Characters:
1. Loreli of the Tom Tom Club. Hereinafter "L"
2. Chadicus Llamacus. Hereinafter "CL"
The Dialog:
SS (Sarabi): This table is reserved for the communist party.
OOP (Omniscient, Omnipotent Narrator): We are great in theory, but we suck in practice.
CL: What we need is a benevolent leader.
OOP: The leader doesn't exist because power corrupts absolutely.
SS: I will be that leader. I will rule the galaxy.
OOP: That is the purpose behind Sarabi Pong. To keep you modulated from going to extremes. When in the course of Sarabi events, it becomes necessary to construct a game, namely "Sarabi Pong" to prevent you from going over to the dark side.
L: People who have the balls and ideals to form a communist government must step aside after the government is formed.
SS: I don't know who said this, but Capitalism is War, Socialism is Peace.
CL: You said it.
OOP: It is against my religion to drink
(5 minutes later): Revision #1. It is against my religion to drink anything but vodka.
SS: Will's wife is such a bitch. Like an attention craving kid.
CL: Probably, I already thought she was a spoiled little rich girl.
SS: I know. Maybe being an attention slut is her full time job.
CL: She pours like three drinks a week. You call that work?
SS: I shall rule the earth and the Milky Way.
L: Ok, chill babies. So--we need the revolutionary war figurehead--assuming success we need a benevolent idealistic overlord, and another to redistribute the wealth and spoils of war fairly. We need a gang of at least three.
CL: A benevolent overlord sounds like it is some sort of oxymoron, right?
L: Yes, unless its merely a figurehead position. I forgot the judicial system, which is crucial and must not be corrupted at all cost. I nominate the OOP for the judicial overlord position.
SS: I second that nomination.
OOP: The OOP cannot be trusted. Trust me I know. I have inside information.
L: I doubt that. Very well, I nominate myself. I can be trusted. Trust me.
CL: I like cats.
L: We followed a cat on our walk. All hail our feline overload.
CL: I whole heartedly agree. Everybody wants to be a cat. Because a cat's the only cat who knows where its at.
OOP: You people are so overrated. Is that all you got? I need some inspiration here.
SS: You are jealous of our life.
CL: Yes. Definitely. We ate sushi and drank wine in the park. You, on the other hand, live in green jell-o.
SS: I'm glad the Buddha and Saad took a night off.
SS: I don't think the OOP appreciates us taking up all the space on his legal pad with the enormity of our discourse. But what does he want from us? A life changing story in one hazy drunken night?
Can we change the world with the profundity of our thoughts?
L: If so, it would make the trivial loss of one legal pad seem worthwhile.
CL: We may need more than one legal pad. We have a bunch of good shit.
SS: I think instead of changing this corrupt fucking decaying world we should start over with a new planet. Yes, indeed, my friends. I am suggesting starting over. Drop your iPhones--we are starting from scratch. No electricity, cars, grocery stores--grow your own food--communicate with words. Its our new manifesto--LETS START OVER!
L: You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.
SS: I can, because I can do anything.
L: Horticulturists Unite!
SS: Abort the war on women!
CL: I feel so awkward when I see people wearing Aeropostale in public. Like I really can't believe I sold them that.
SS: He he he....like Will's wife?
Friday, May 18, 2012
Other People's Houses, Ch 3
Let's do the time warp now. First, back in time to:
La Casa del Little Ruv.
I went down to Rosedale, with my rider by my side. (insert guitar riff here)
There was nothing that smelled bad at La Casa del Ruv.
Except maybe the Pazaasaurus.
There was nothing out of place at La Casa del Ruv.
Except a garden overflowing with weeds.
At La Casa, I had my first training at the basics of mindfulness in the kitchen.
Like not chopping up vegetables and meat on the counter without a fricking chopping block. And of course, let's not forget the exposed gas line in underneath the counter. One bump into that and the whole place would burst into flames. As if that didn't happen for other reasons:-)
Then there was the bathroom. What a source of contention. The most screwed up remodeling job in history. But despite all the intrigue, it was probably left in somewhat better condition that it started. Its too bad there are not videos of me knocking down the walls into the bathtub irrevocably scraping the surface of the porcelain.
There were PFL's in the bedroom. But they weren't needed.
There was a tempest on the wall. And it looked a lot like me.
There was a guest room used for the computer. And Quah, by Jorma. But I'll be alright with the Genesis of all that. Even with the Trader, right Mr. Wilson?
La Casa del Little Ruv.
I went down to Rosedale, with my rider by my side. (insert guitar riff here)
There was nothing that smelled bad at La Casa del Ruv.
Except maybe the Pazaasaurus.
There was nothing out of place at La Casa del Ruv.
Except a garden overflowing with weeds.
At La Casa, I had my first training at the basics of mindfulness in the kitchen.
Like not chopping up vegetables and meat on the counter without a fricking chopping block. And of course, let's not forget the exposed gas line in underneath the counter. One bump into that and the whole place would burst into flames. As if that didn't happen for other reasons:-)
Then there was the bathroom. What a source of contention. The most screwed up remodeling job in history. But despite all the intrigue, it was probably left in somewhat better condition that it started. Its too bad there are not videos of me knocking down the walls into the bathtub irrevocably scraping the surface of the porcelain.
There were PFL's in the bedroom. But they weren't needed.
There was a tempest on the wall. And it looked a lot like me.
There was a guest room used for the computer. And Quah, by Jorma. But I'll be alright with the Genesis of all that. Even with the Trader, right Mr. Wilson?
Hi\Trader
Trader sailed a jeweled crown
Humanity rowed the way
Exploring to command more land
Scheming how to rule the waves.
Trader spied a virgin plain
And named it for velvet robes
Wrote home declaring,
"There's a place
Where totally folks are free"
Humanity rowed the way
Exploring to command more land
Scheming how to rule the waves.
Trader spied a virgin plain
And named it for velvet robes
Wrote home declaring,
"There's a place
Where totally folks are free"
And sense we are going there, how about a little of this with a little of that?
Showers pounding out a new beat
I trade my old shoes for new feet
I grab a new seat
I don't like the one I got
The fabric's wearing through
And it's wearing me out
You're wearing me down
Watching old baseball games
And low budget telethons
Ain't like watching you yourself
When you yourself is on
Got time to wander to waste and to whine
But when it comes to you
It seems like I just can't find the time
So watch your head and then watch the ground
It's a silly time to learn to swim
When you start to drown
It's a silly time to learn to swim
On the way down
If I gave you my number
Would it still be the same
If I saved you from drowning
Promise me you'll never go away
I trade my old shoes for new feet
I grab a new seat
I don't like the one I got
The fabric's wearing through
And it's wearing me out
You're wearing me down
Watching old baseball games
And low budget telethons
Ain't like watching you yourself
When you yourself is on
Got time to wander to waste and to whine
But when it comes to you
It seems like I just can't find the time
So watch your head and then watch the ground
It's a silly time to learn to swim
When you start to drown
It's a silly time to learn to swim
On the way down
If I gave you my number
Would it still be the same
If I saved you from drowning
Promise me you'll never go away
(I'm so happy to be with ruvie, and that's what I'm doing the I'm so happy to be with ruvie
DANCE)
And the living room. With the photos on the shelf that eventually changed with the audience present. And the worlds best cd collection beneath the veil. And the ubiquitous treadmill. To the well constructed deck that Dick built. To the electric grill.
So lets so go up the hill, and down the hill and around the block. Taking the morning jog with pazasaurus. Never mind the neighbors that might have been criminals. Or the next door neighbor that watched over everything.
Wow, and that's only the tip of the iceberg. What else can I member?
(Escaping from trial in Quincy, McDermott style, by the skin of my teeth...lol)
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Other People's Houses, Ch. 2
The Polish Guy's house.
No one has ever accused me of running a neat ship.
No one.
And if you don't believe me, you should check out my office sometime:-)
But the Polish Guy's house makes me look like a germaphobe with mysophobia.
I'm afraid to go into the kitchen. At least since the garbage disposal broke. Its not that standing water in and of itself is bad. But after a few days it begins to smell. And even though I tend not to notice things around me, my sense of smell is acute. Very acute. So the standing water had to be remedied. Hmm let me see. The garbage disposal is broke and not draining. How to eliminate the smell? Lets look under the sink. Pine Sol to the rescue!
Things have been on a steady downward spiral since my vacuum broke.
Six months ago.
There is a fine sheet of broken matzo crackers throughout the living room. Its a wonder I haven't seen any mice.
I avoid any cooking.
I live on a strict diet of oatmeal (cooked in the microwave), with pumpkin seeds and hemp or almond milk, and wraps (also cooked in the microwave). For dessert, there is yogurt with flax, hemp powder, and more pumpkin seeds.
That's why I am called Sri Pseudo Pumpkin, of course.
My small sanctuary upstairs has a lock on the door. Posters on the wall. And a meditation cushion. I sleep on a mattress on the floor. In a nook in the wall. Like in a cave.
My sanctuary smells good. My aromatherapy consists of lavender, sage, rosemary, cedar, and a host of other pleasantly smelling organics.
There has been zen and sci fi books next to my bed for the past six months. And next to the books are an assortment of nighttime anti wrinkle moisturizers. See I'm getting very vain in my rapidly advancing middle age. I probably still have condoms under my bed. But I never use them. No woman would want to be caught dead in the sanctuary. Despite how clean it smells:-).
The Polish guy seems to expect elves to clean up the place. I am only a half elf. The half that only cleans up after himself and not for other people. The Polish guy did have helpers about 4 months ago. Two of them, actually. The Polish woman and her sister. Her name is Berta. She is a pharmacist in Poland. They cleaned up the place from stem to stern. They cleaned when they arrived. And cleaned up to the time they left. Rostov says its a cultural thing. So maybe the Polish guy is used to having woman clean up after him.
I like walking to work though. And to Norb Andy's for open mike night. So dirty houses do have their advantages.
(at the centrum cafe, the legacy theater, and soccer in St. Charles--at least I hope I get there tomorrow:-)).
No one has ever accused me of running a neat ship.
No one.
And if you don't believe me, you should check out my office sometime:-)
But the Polish Guy's house makes me look like a germaphobe with mysophobia.
I'm afraid to go into the kitchen. At least since the garbage disposal broke. Its not that standing water in and of itself is bad. But after a few days it begins to smell. And even though I tend not to notice things around me, my sense of smell is acute. Very acute. So the standing water had to be remedied. Hmm let me see. The garbage disposal is broke and not draining. How to eliminate the smell? Lets look under the sink. Pine Sol to the rescue!
Things have been on a steady downward spiral since my vacuum broke.
Six months ago.
There is a fine sheet of broken matzo crackers throughout the living room. Its a wonder I haven't seen any mice.
I avoid any cooking.
I live on a strict diet of oatmeal (cooked in the microwave), with pumpkin seeds and hemp or almond milk, and wraps (also cooked in the microwave). For dessert, there is yogurt with flax, hemp powder, and more pumpkin seeds.
That's why I am called Sri Pseudo Pumpkin, of course.
My small sanctuary upstairs has a lock on the door. Posters on the wall. And a meditation cushion. I sleep on a mattress on the floor. In a nook in the wall. Like in a cave.
My sanctuary smells good. My aromatherapy consists of lavender, sage, rosemary, cedar, and a host of other pleasantly smelling organics.
There has been zen and sci fi books next to my bed for the past six months. And next to the books are an assortment of nighttime anti wrinkle moisturizers. See I'm getting very vain in my rapidly advancing middle age. I probably still have condoms under my bed. But I never use them. No woman would want to be caught dead in the sanctuary. Despite how clean it smells:-).
The Polish guy seems to expect elves to clean up the place. I am only a half elf. The half that only cleans up after himself and not for other people. The Polish guy did have helpers about 4 months ago. Two of them, actually. The Polish woman and her sister. Her name is Berta. She is a pharmacist in Poland. They cleaned up the place from stem to stern. They cleaned when they arrived. And cleaned up to the time they left. Rostov says its a cultural thing. So maybe the Polish guy is used to having woman clean up after him.
I like walking to work though. And to Norb Andy's for open mike night. So dirty houses do have their advantages.
(at the centrum cafe, the legacy theater, and soccer in St. Charles--at least I hope I get there tomorrow:-)).
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Other People's Houses, Ch. 1
For the last year and a half, I've been living in other people's houses.
I had been living at the place on Frederick Street. That technically was my place. But it was haunted.
So, during the Gulley trial, in a sleep deprived fog, I came to the conclusion that I would move to the Carriage house. And within a month, as if by magic, all my stuff was in the Carriage house garage.
This weekend, I will start the process of extricating myself from the Carriage house--or at least moving my stuff from the Carriage house garage:-). Hopefully, the move is only temporary.
Let us review our stay there, shall we?
1. Geography. Are you kidding me? The Carriage house is down the street from the Venice Cafe, the Benton Park Coffee Shop, The Map Room, Ernesto's--and the list goes on. I wish I could always live there. Not to mention less than a mile a way from the Black Bear Bakery and 2720 Cherokee Street. So many memories. Don't get me wrong, i'll still be going to St. Louis all the time. But it won't be the same.
2. The Layout. I can still hear the music coming from my laptop on the granite countertop. The smell of the green tea from the bowl by the sink. Going up the stairs to write the rental deduction from the post it note on the refrigerator. Nick Cave playing on the TV. The vodka, tequilla or whatever in the freezer. The Shag rugs.
3. The Emotional Layout. First, I was mostly alone there. Can you hear Glass Wave and Mick Jagger signing the Performance soundtrack? The walk alone over to Soulard Mardis Gras? Then the Carriage house was full in a sense. With people who drank too much wine. And for once in my life I did not keep track of the names. All drawn to the Carriage house, as if I was something different than I was (e.g. as if I really owned the place).
Then there was the Hippie Chick on the same night Brad Warner signed his autograph. And so began the endless stream of Tuesday nights with the Schwag. Where before I always left after the first set, I now stayed for the duration. The whole year there was a lovely haze of Eddie Vedder, Robert Plant, Warren Hayes, Keller Williams, Umphrey's McGee, El Monstrero, Megadeath, Greenland is Melting, Dumptruck Butterlips, The Ragbirds, Kim Massie, Jakes Leg, Kentucky Knife Fight, and a shit load of others.
:-(
I had been living at the place on Frederick Street. That technically was my place. But it was haunted.
So, during the Gulley trial, in a sleep deprived fog, I came to the conclusion that I would move to the Carriage house. And within a month, as if by magic, all my stuff was in the Carriage house garage.
This weekend, I will start the process of extricating myself from the Carriage house--or at least moving my stuff from the Carriage house garage:-). Hopefully, the move is only temporary.
Let us review our stay there, shall we?
1. Geography. Are you kidding me? The Carriage house is down the street from the Venice Cafe, the Benton Park Coffee Shop, The Map Room, Ernesto's--and the list goes on. I wish I could always live there. Not to mention less than a mile a way from the Black Bear Bakery and 2720 Cherokee Street. So many memories. Don't get me wrong, i'll still be going to St. Louis all the time. But it won't be the same.
2. The Layout. I can still hear the music coming from my laptop on the granite countertop. The smell of the green tea from the bowl by the sink. Going up the stairs to write the rental deduction from the post it note on the refrigerator. Nick Cave playing on the TV. The vodka, tequilla or whatever in the freezer. The Shag rugs.
3. The Emotional Layout. First, I was mostly alone there. Can you hear Glass Wave and Mick Jagger signing the Performance soundtrack? The walk alone over to Soulard Mardis Gras? Then the Carriage house was full in a sense. With people who drank too much wine. And for once in my life I did not keep track of the names. All drawn to the Carriage house, as if I was something different than I was (e.g. as if I really owned the place).
Then there was the Hippie Chick on the same night Brad Warner signed his autograph. And so began the endless stream of Tuesday nights with the Schwag. Where before I always left after the first set, I now stayed for the duration. The whole year there was a lovely haze of Eddie Vedder, Robert Plant, Warren Hayes, Keller Williams, Umphrey's McGee, El Monstrero, Megadeath, Greenland is Melting, Dumptruck Butterlips, The Ragbirds, Kim Massie, Jakes Leg, Kentucky Knife Fight, and a shit load of others.
:-(
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Things I wish my daughters will read, Ch. 3
"Greenlander"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NPeykShUVA
I remember listening to this song in about the year 2002, when you both were still babies.
I had an old mp3 player back then. They probably had ipods back then, but this player wasn't an ipod.
It probably could only hold about 30 songs.
It was bitter cold, and I was out jogging down that road between Uncle Martin's house and your house. Where in the summer time they will hang huge cat fishes on the utility pole.
Over and over I jogged that one mile loop listening to music.
Sometimes I pushed you two in a carrier around that loop.
Back then I wasn't the skinny guy. My parents joked when they saw me that I was getting to be the chubby lawyer.
Looking back, I now have this sort of this mantra justifying and explaining what happened. It goes something like this, though reality is never as simple as what we retrospectively create about it:
Back then I didn't go out in the evening. For whatever reason, I did not go out alone.
Back then, I watched TV
Back then moving to Illiopolis was not good for me
Back then for career reasons I moved to Edwardsville
Back then, I started having panic attacks
Back then, I left you to be raised by your mother
Then I started going out
Then I started going out all the time
Then I became the skinny zen divorced guy.
Then I rationalized my own selfishness
On an icy island north
In the woods beside the church
We can bury crimson lockets filled with dirt
And when the April thaw
Brings us out again
We can bless the arrows
And the sun won't stall
And the land will never fall
On virgin fields we'll skate
Stand by children we'll create
Like the arctic wind we spin
A windmill's rose into the threshing soul
You can't thresh the snow
When the snow is sending
There's no divine grove
You can see the blankets go
Everything I did was right
Everything I said was wrong
Now I'm waiting for the night
To bring the dawn
Into the only room where the fire's warm
Where we keep our vices warm
And it's all that's left
All that's left is vices torn
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NPeykShUVA
I remember listening to this song in about the year 2002, when you both were still babies.
I had an old mp3 player back then. They probably had ipods back then, but this player wasn't an ipod.
It probably could only hold about 30 songs.
It was bitter cold, and I was out jogging down that road between Uncle Martin's house and your house. Where in the summer time they will hang huge cat fishes on the utility pole.
Over and over I jogged that one mile loop listening to music.
Sometimes I pushed you two in a carrier around that loop.
Back then I wasn't the skinny guy. My parents joked when they saw me that I was getting to be the chubby lawyer.
Looking back, I now have this sort of this mantra justifying and explaining what happened. It goes something like this, though reality is never as simple as what we retrospectively create about it:
Back then I didn't go out in the evening. For whatever reason, I did not go out alone.
Back then, I watched TV
Back then moving to Illiopolis was not good for me
Back then for career reasons I moved to Edwardsville
Back then, I started having panic attacks
Back then, I left you to be raised by your mother
Then I started going out
Then I started going out all the time
Then I became the skinny zen divorced guy.
Then I rationalized my own selfishness
On an icy island north
In the woods beside the church
We can bury crimson lockets filled with dirt
And when the April thaw
Brings us out again
We can bless the arrows
And the sun won't stall
And the land will never fall
On virgin fields we'll skate
Stand by children we'll create
Like the arctic wind we spin
A windmill's rose into the threshing soul
You can't thresh the snow
When the snow is sending
There's no divine grove
You can see the blankets go
Everything I did was right
Everything I said was wrong
Now I'm waiting for the night
To bring the dawn
Into the only room where the fire's warm
Where we keep our vices warm
And it's all that's left
All that's left is vices torn
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Silster Wilster, Ch. 9
The Promulgation of Rules and Regulations pertaining to the operation of the new car:
1. The kicking out of the front windshield is strictly forbidden. You know who you are. It does not matter how long said occupant visited Shot Heaven. No mas.
2. No puking in said vehicle. It does not matter whether its the Third Thursday, the Fourth or the Fifth. You know who you are. No mas.
3. No tequila in the trunk. Well only for special occasions. Like weekends. Mas o meno.
4. No more than 3 ball caps in the back seat. And a similar amount of sunglasses or fake glasses. You know who you are.
5. No leaving pipes underneath the passenger seat. Nothing put in pill bottles. Its not going to fool anyone anyway. No mas.
6. No fricking eating in the car. You know who you are. I don't want it to start smelling like a delicatessen. Or whatever God awful smell the old one had.
7. No more traveling over 50,000 miles during the course of a calender year. Start taking a bus. Or walking.
8. No traveling south of Carbondale unless you are going to Nashville, TN. There is nothing between Nashville and Carbondale anyway.
9. No sex in the car. Get a room:-)
10. Replace the brakes if they start squeaking before you need new rotors. You know what a dimwit you are.....
11. No bumperstickers on the car. I don't care if Greenland is Melting. The troopers are not going to be impressed.
12. Stop at all shows by Hot Bag of Donuts. Even those out of town. Like at the crappy brewery in Bloomington.
13. No texting while driving. Unless Siri helps you.
1. The kicking out of the front windshield is strictly forbidden. You know who you are. It does not matter how long said occupant visited Shot Heaven. No mas.
2. No puking in said vehicle. It does not matter whether its the Third Thursday, the Fourth or the Fifth. You know who you are. No mas.
3. No tequila in the trunk. Well only for special occasions. Like weekends. Mas o meno.
4. No more than 3 ball caps in the back seat. And a similar amount of sunglasses or fake glasses. You know who you are.
5. No leaving pipes underneath the passenger seat. Nothing put in pill bottles. Its not going to fool anyone anyway. No mas.
6. No fricking eating in the car. You know who you are. I don't want it to start smelling like a delicatessen. Or whatever God awful smell the old one had.
7. No more traveling over 50,000 miles during the course of a calender year. Start taking a bus. Or walking.
8. No traveling south of Carbondale unless you are going to Nashville, TN. There is nothing between Nashville and Carbondale anyway.
9. No sex in the car. Get a room:-)
10. Replace the brakes if they start squeaking before you need new rotors. You know what a dimwit you are.....
11. No bumperstickers on the car. I don't care if Greenland is Melting. The troopers are not going to be impressed.
12. Stop at all shows by Hot Bag of Donuts. Even those out of town. Like at the crappy brewery in Bloomington.
13. No texting while driving. Unless Siri helps you.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
The Apolitcal Activist, Ch. 5
Jimmy Carter's Malaise Speech of July 15, 1979
Revisited.
Jimmy was onto something back then.
But America wasn't ready for it. We wanted a return to empty platitudes and a mythic vision of an America that never was. So we voted for Reagan. And all this stuff was lost. Even Carter gave up on it. Here we go:
"I promised you a president who is not isolated from the
people, who feels your pain, and who shares your dreams and who draws his
strength and his wisdom from you."
(well, whatever, I feel your pain too, Jimmy).
"During the past three years I've spoken to you on many
occasions about national concerns, the energy crisis, reorganizing the
government, our nation's economy, and issues of war and especially peace. But
over those years the subjects of the speeches, the talks, and the press
conferences have become increasingly narrow, focused more and more on what the
isolated world of Washington thinks is important. Gradually, you've heard more
and more about what the government thinks or what the government should be doing
and less and less about our nation's hopes, our dreams, and our vision of the
future."
(lets see, the important issues back then were war, the economy, dependence on Middle Eastern oil, and an unresponsive and isolated federal government located in Washington D.C.. Nothing much has changed).
"I invited to Camp David people from almost every
segment of our society -- business and labor, teachers and preachers, governors,
mayors, and private citizens. And then I left Camp David to listen to other
Americans, men and women like you.
It has been an extraordinary ten days, and I want to
share with you what I've heard. First of all, I got a lot of personal advice.
Let me quote a few of the typical comments that I wrote down.
This from a southern governor: "Mr. President, you are
not leading this nation -- you're just managing the government."
"You don't see the people enough any more."
"Some of your Cabinet members don't seem loyal. There
is not enough discipline among your disciples."
"Don't talk to us about politics or the mechanics of
government, but about an understanding of our common good."
"Mr. President, we're in trouble. Talk to us about
blood and sweat and tears."
"If you lead, Mr. President, we will
follow."
Many people talked about themselves and about the
condition of our nation.
This from a young woman in Pennsylvania: "I feel so far
from government. I feel like ordinary people are excluded from political
power."
And this from a young Chicano: "Some of us have
suffered from recession all our lives."
"Some people have wasted energy, but others haven't had
anything to waste."
And this from a religious leader: "No material shortage
can touch the important things like God's love for us or our love for one
another."
And I like this one particularly from a black woman who
happens to be the mayor of a small Mississippi town: "The big-shots are not the
only ones who are important. Remember, you can't sell anything on Wall Street
unless someone digs it up somewhere else first."
(aka, Obama's lack of leadership, the Occupy movement, etc).
"We can't go on consuming 40 percent more energy than
we produce. When we import oil we are also importing inflation plus
unemployment."
"We've got to use what we have. The Middle East has
only five percent of the world's energy, but the United States has 24
percent."
And this is one of the most vivid statements: "Our neck
is stretched over the fence and OPEC has a knife."
"There will be other cartels and other shortages.
American wisdom and courage right now can set a path to follow in the
future."
This was a good one: "Be bold, Mr. President. We may
make mistakes, but we are ready to experiment."
"The threat is nearly invisible in ordinary ways. It is a crisis of confidence. It is a crisis that strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will. We can see this crisis in the growing doubt about the meaning of our own lives and in the loss of a unity of purpose for our nation.
The erosion of our confidence in the future is
threatening to destroy the social and the political fabric of
America.
The confidence that we have always had as a people is
not simply some romantic dream or a proverb in a dusty book that we read just on
the Fourth of July.
It is the idea which founded our nation and has guided
our development as a people. Confidence in the future has supported everything
else -- public institutions and private enterprise, our own families, and the
very Constitution of the United States. Confidence has defined our course and
has served as a link between generations. We've always believed in something
called progress. We've always had a faith that the days of our children would be
better than our own.
Our people are losing that faith, not only in
government itself but in the ability as citizens to serve as the ultimate rulers
and shapers of our democracy. As a people we know our past and we are proud of
it. Our progress has been part of the living history of America, even the world.
We always believed that we were part of a great movement of humanity itself
called democracy, involved in the search for freedom, and that belief has always
strengthened us in our purpose. But just as we are losing our confidence in the
future, we are also beginning to close the door on our past.
In a nation that was proud of hard work, strong
families, close-knit communities, and our faith in God, too many of us now tend
to worship self-indulgence and consumption. Human identity is no longer defined
by what one does, but by what one owns. But we've discovered that owning things
and consuming things does not satisfy our longing for meaning. We've learned
that piling up material goods cannot fill the emptiness of lives which have no
confidence or purpose.
The symptoms of this crisis of the American spirit are
all around us. For the first time in the history of our country a majority of
our people believe that the next five years will be worse than the past five
years. Two-thirds of our people do not even vote. The productivity of American
workers is actually dropping, and the willingness of Americans to save for the
future has fallen below that of all other people in the Western
world.
As you know, there is a growing disrespect for
government and for churches and for schools, the news media, and other
institutions. This is not a message of happiness or reassurance, but it is the
truth and it is a warning.
These changes did not happen overnight. They've come
upon us gradually over the last generation, years that were filled with shocks
and tragedy....
We remember when the phrase "sound as a dollar" was an
expression of absolute dependability, until ten years of inflation began to
shrink our dollar and our savings..... We believed that our nation's resources were
limitless until 1973, when we had to face a growing dependence on foreign
oil.
What you see too often in Washington and elsewhere
around the country is a system of government that seems incapable of action. You
see a Congress twisted and pulled in every direction by hundreds of
well-financed and powerful special interests. You see every extreme position
defended to the last vote, almost to the last breath by one unyielding group or
another. You often see a balanced and a fair approach that demands sacrifice, a
little sacrifice from everyone, abandoned like an orphan without support and
without friends.
Often you see paralysis and stagnation and drift. You
don't like it, and neither do I. What can we do?"
We are at a turning point in our history. There are two
paths to choose. One is a path I've warned about tonight, the path that leads to
fragmentation and self-interest. Down that road lies a mistaken idea of freedom,
the right to grasp for ourselves some advantage over others. That path would be
one of constant conflict between narrow interests ending in chaos and
immobility. It is a certain route to failure.
All the traditions of our past, all the lessons of our
heritage, all the promises of our future point to another path, the path of
common purpose and the restoration of American values. That path leads to true
freedom for our nation and ourselves. We can take the first steps down that path
as we begin to solve our energy problem.
Energy will be the immediate test of our ability to
unite this nation, and it can also be the standard around which we rally. On the
battlefield of energy we can win for our nation a new confidence, and we can
seize control again of our common destiny.
In little more than two decades we've gone from a
position of energy independence to one in which almost half the oil we use comes
from foreign countries, at prices that are going through the roof. Our excessive
dependence on OPEC has already taken a tremendous toll on our economy and our
people. This is the direct cause of the long lines which have made millions of
you spend aggravating hours waiting for gasoline. It's a cause of the increased
inflation and unemployment that we now face. This intolerable dependence on
foreign oil threatens our economic independence and the very security of our
nation. The energy crisis is real. It is worldwide. It is a clear and present
danger to our nation. These are facts and we simply must face them.
What I have to say to you now about energy is simple
and vitally important.
Point one: I am tonight setting a clear goal for the
energy policy of the United States. Beginning this moment, this nation will
never use more foreign oil than we did in 1977 -- never. From now on, every new
addition to our demand for energy will be met from our own production and our
own conservation. The generation-long growth in our dependence on foreign oil
will be stopped dead in its tracks right now and then reversed as we move
through the 1980s, for I am tonight setting the further goal of cutting our
dependence on foreign oil by one-half by the end of the next decade -- a saving
of over 4-1/2 million barrels of imported oil per day.
Point two: To ensure that we meet these targets, I will
use my presidential authority to set import quotas. I'm announcing tonight that
for 1979 and 1980, I will forbid the entry into this country of one drop of
foreign oil more than these goals allow. These quotas will ensure a reduction in
imports even below the ambitious levels we set at the recent Tokyo
summit.
Point three: To give us energy security, I am asking
for the most massive peacetime commitment of funds and resources in our nation's
history to develop America's own alternative sources of fuel -- from coal, from
oil shale, from plant products for gasohol, from unconventional gas, from the
sun.
I propose the creation of an energy security
corporation to lead this effort to replace 2-1/2 million barrels of imported oil
per day by 1990. The corporation I will issue up to $5 billion in energy bonds,
and I especially want them to be in small denominations so that average
Americans can invest directly in America's energy security.
Just as a similar synthetic rubber corporation helped
us win World War II, so will we mobilize American determination and ability to
win the energy war. Moreover, I will soon submit legislation to Congress calling
for the creation of this nation's first solar bank, which will help us achieve
the crucial goal of 20 percent of our energy coming from solar power by the year
2000.
These efforts will cost money, a lot of money, and that
is why Congress must enact the windfall profits tax without delay. It will be
money well spent. Unlike the billions of dollars that we ship to foreign
countries to pay for foreign oil, these funds will be paid by Americans to
Americans. These funds will go to fight, not to increase, inflation and
unemployment.
Point four: I'm asking Congress to mandate, to require
as a matter of law, that our nation's utility companies cut their massive use of
oil by 50 percent within the next decade and switch to other fuels, especially
coal, our most abundant energy source.
Point five: To make absolutely certain that nothing
stands in the way of achieving these goals, I will urge Congress to create an
energy mobilization board which, like the War Production Board in World War II,
will have the responsibility and authority to cut through the red tape, the
delays, and the endless roadblocks to completing key energy projects.
We will protect our environment. But when this nation
critically needs a refinery or a pipeline, we will build it."
Point six: I'm proposing a bold conservation program to involve every state, county, and city and every average American in our energy battle. This effort will permit you to build conservation into your homes and your lives at a cost you can afford.
Point six: I'm proposing a bold conservation program to involve every state, county, and city and every average American in our energy battle. This effort will permit you to build conservation into your homes and your lives at a cost you can afford.
I ask Congress to give me authority for mandatory
conservation and for standby gasoline rationing. To further conserve energy, I'm
proposing tonight an extra $10 billion over the next decade to strengthen our
public transportation systems. And I'm asking you for your good and for your
nation's security to take no unnecessary trips, to use carpools or public
transportation whenever you can, to park your car one extra day per week, to
obey the speed limit, and to set your thermostats to save fuel. Every act of
energy conservation like this is more than just common sense -- I tell you it is
an act of patriotism.
Our nation must be fair to the poorest among us, so we
will increase aid to needy Americans to cope with rising energy prices. We often
think of conservation only in terms of sacrifice. In fact, it is the most
painless and immediate way of rebuilding our nation's strength. Every gallon of
oil each one of us saves is a new form of production. It gives us more freedom,
more confidence, that much more control over our own lives.
So, the solution of our energy crisis can also help us
to conquer the crisis of the spirit in our country. It can rekindle our sense of
unity, our confidence in the future, and give our nation and all of us
individually a new sense of purpose.
You know we can do it. We have the natural resources.
We have more oil in our shale alone than several Saudi Arabias. We have more
coal than any nation on Earth. We have the world's highest level of technology.
We have the most skilled work force, with innovative genius, and I firmly
believe that we have the national will to win this war.
I do not promise you that this struggle for freedom
will be easy. I do not promise a quick way out of our nation's problems, when
the truth is that the only way out is an all-out effort. What I do promise you
is that I will lead our fight, and I will enforce fairness in our struggle, and
I will ensure honesty. And above all, I will act. We can manage the short-term
shortages more effectively and we will, but there are no short-term solutions to
our long-range problems. There is simply no way to avoid sacrifice.
Twelve hours from now I will speak again in Kansas
City, to expand and to explain further our energy program. Just as the search
for solutions to our energy shortages has now led us to a new awareness of our
Nation's deeper problems, so our willingness to work for those solutions in
energy can strengthen us to attack those deeper problems.
I will continue to travel this country, to hear the
people of America. You can help me to develop a national agenda for the 1980s. I
will listen and I will act. We will act together. These were the promises I made
three years ago, and I intend to keep them.
Little by little we can and we must rebuild our
confidence. We can spend until we empty our treasuries, and we may summon all
the wonders of science. But we can succeed only if we tap our greatest resources
-- America's people, America's values, and America's confidence.
I have seen the strength of America in the
inexhaustible resources of our people. In the days to come, let us renew that
strength in the struggle for an energy secure nation.
In closing, let me say this: I will do my best, but I
will not do it alone. Let your voice be heard. Whenever you have a chance, say
something good about our country. With God's help and for the sake of our
nation, it is time for us to join hands in America. Let us commit ourselves
together to a rebirth of the American spirit. Working together with our common
faith we cannot fail.
Thank you and good night."
(Good night Jimmy)
(So, what happened when America was at the "crossroads" back in 1979. Absofrickinglutely nothing. Carter's half assed attempt at an alternative energy policy was quickly abandoned--even by him. And Reagan took down the solar panels at the White House in a more than symbolic gesture. And Bush the first and Clinton, when America was riding the wave of pseudo recovery, took none of the pseudo surplus to plan for the future. And none of them saw the impending collapse. QED).
(Good night Jimmy)
(So, what happened when America was at the "crossroads" back in 1979. Absofrickinglutely nothing. Carter's half assed attempt at an alternative energy policy was quickly abandoned--even by him. And Reagan took down the solar panels at the White House in a more than symbolic gesture. And Bush the first and Clinton, when America was riding the wave of pseudo recovery, took none of the pseudo surplus to plan for the future. And none of them saw the impending collapse. QED).
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Scenes inside a Gold Mine, Ch. 8
Pilobolus' Rushes
(a.k.a. Dancing to the End of Love)
This dance must have been written by a man.
Or men, if you look at the liner notes its a collaboration between two Israelis, Inbal Pinto and Avshalom Pollack.
So it starts with a single electric light bulb. And a group of people waiting for a train, or waiting for Godot.
Men start launching themselves horizontally and are caught mid-flight by other men. They bump and tangle forming a beast with six legs and two faces. Two women watch, wafting on the slightest breeze.
Then the star of our dance enters, carrying a suitcase. Weighed down by the weight of it all. But the suitcase contains the great mystery, and all the dancers must examine it when it is opened. Then when the protagonist lays down to sleep after his labor, his psychedelic dreams are revealed to all.
Then he's caught in a tangle of chairs. Maybe office chairs. Marx never liked assembly lines, even in this dance. His future lover becomes separated from her woman, also on a chair. The separated women becomes carried away in the embrace of three men, switching from one to another. Like I said, this dance must have been written by a man.
Then the star of our dance, still entangled by the bourgeois chairs, is embraced by his future lover. She interlaces her self around his neck in an embrace that suggests tenderness and submission. Like I said, this dance had to be written by a man. Our star then takes a seemingly endless walk on top of a conveyor belt of chairs with his lover draped around him. Such is the life of a factory worker.
All this leads to the seemingly poignant happy ending. Our star, still supporting his new lover, watches with admiration as his new lover, still embracing him, reaches up to extinguish the single electric bulb.
Like I said, this dance had to be written by a man.
(a.k.a. Dancing to the End of Love)
This dance must have been written by a man.
Or men, if you look at the liner notes its a collaboration between two Israelis, Inbal Pinto and Avshalom Pollack.
So it starts with a single electric light bulb. And a group of people waiting for a train, or waiting for Godot.
Men start launching themselves horizontally and are caught mid-flight by other men. They bump and tangle forming a beast with six legs and two faces. Two women watch, wafting on the slightest breeze.
Then the star of our dance enters, carrying a suitcase. Weighed down by the weight of it all. But the suitcase contains the great mystery, and all the dancers must examine it when it is opened. Then when the protagonist lays down to sleep after his labor, his psychedelic dreams are revealed to all.
Then he's caught in a tangle of chairs. Maybe office chairs. Marx never liked assembly lines, even in this dance. His future lover becomes separated from her woman, also on a chair. The separated women becomes carried away in the embrace of three men, switching from one to another. Like I said, this dance must have been written by a man.
Then the star of our dance, still entangled by the bourgeois chairs, is embraced by his future lover. She interlaces her self around his neck in an embrace that suggests tenderness and submission. Like I said, this dance had to be written by a man. Our star then takes a seemingly endless walk on top of a conveyor belt of chairs with his lover draped around him. Such is the life of a factory worker.
All this leads to the seemingly poignant happy ending. Our star, still supporting his new lover, watches with admiration as his new lover, still embracing him, reaches up to extinguish the single electric bulb.
Like I said, this dance had to be written by a man.
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