Small world

The fertility rate of polar bears in the arctic circle is on the decline ..they are finding trace amounts of birth control substances in their tissue. They get it from digesting the fish that they live on ..who get it from the water they swim in ..that arrives in currents that travel north from the European continent ..where urine is discharged into the ocean ..which comes from people who use birth control pills. Now, I’m not saying birth control pills are bad or anything ..it’s just that I’m tired of hearing people tell me that human behavior doesn’t have consequences on a global scale. We don’t know our place in the universe ..we are not even at home in the world we live in ..and I’m afraid that soon ..we may be left without a hope of finding home ..alarmist that I am.

Crazy Charlie (continued)

Charlie says: “We ’ll walk to the beach ..I know a shortcut.” So, we go through a schoolyard ..across several backyards ..along the railroad tracks ..and through the Fess Parker Hotel lobby. We drop our shorts off on the sand and take a running leap into cool blue water. Charlie says the ocean is alive ..he plunges his head under the surface ..then comes back up, spitting seaweed out of his mouth, and shouts: “listen, you can hear it breathing”. Afterwards, we sit down for a ‘smoke’ and a chat with a circle of people by the wharf. California free agents ..as Charlie likes to call them. A couple of them actually are former owners of a solar energy company. They are complaining about how nobody in California really takes solar energy seriously. Charlie says he likes the heat and humidity ..makes him feel alive ..says he usually has to sit in the back of Laundromats to get it ..not these days ..it’s everywhere. One of the former execs says he’s glad to hear him say that ..it’s the most abundant source of energy there is. Next thing I know, they’re discussing plans to make Charlie their next spokesperson as soon as they get back on their feet ..and I’m like ..how come he gets all the good deals ..?

Crazy Charlie

The Celtic music coming from inside sounds mystical ..the warm westerly flow out here feels pleasurable, sweaty ..but pleasurable ..sunlight filters through the trees ..inner voices barely detectable ..feeling empty and forgetful ..birds singing ..digital symbols flicker by ..without meaning ..I just watch them cross my laptop screen ..I don’t know why ..solitude is short but sweet ..Charlie gets out of his tent by the creek ..hair everywhere ..shouting obscenities ..without meaning ..he rolls a cigarette ..while I pour coffee ..and ask if he’s well. "Why do those fucking birds cry like that?" "In English we call it singing." I say "..although some Asians cultures call it crying ..why, feeling Oriental?" "I feel like a Rottweiler from hell." "You smell like one too ..what’s the matter ..too toasty to sleep?" "Man, I slept on the ground last night." "Hey, the door was open." "Nah, it’s cooler down there ..besides, I pass open doors ..haven’t been through one in months ..don’t wanna start now ..it’s a habit that’s hard to break." "Can we drive down to the showers on the beach, or ..are car doors habit forming too ?"

Jen in color

Note: Fooling around with color. You can see the genuine article by clicking here ~>Jen’s blog

Off road travel

Sometimes I don’t have to leave the area to travel .. my deck is as far as I get ..the road in my head is weird enough ..I’m traveling through thoughts every millisecond of the day ..I admit, most of it is flying by so fast it’s just a blur ..but sometimes, out of the corner of my eye ..something will catch my attention and shift the direction of travel down an avenue worth exploring. I’ve learned that one road is just as interesting as another ..so, if I’m in a receptive state of mind ..I won’t discriminate. I lay back and see images of myself as a kid ..roaming through the neighborhood on a bicycle with a group of other kids ..one of them comes up to me and says “don’t you think it’s more fun to ride in a group ..there’s more people to add to the experience” ~ flash ~ I’m sitting around a hookah with several other people and we're playing a game where one person starts a story ..and the next person has to continue ~ flash ~ the person next to me says: “..and he drops the bag of dope inside a parked car before the cops pull him over” ~ flash ~ it’s my turn ..I remember saying something like ..a couple on their first date come back to the car, and she says “Philip, you said you didn’t do drugs” ~ flash ~ a train full of block letter graffiti streaks by non stop with no gaps in between ..I wonder if I’m becoming illiterate ~ flash ~ a dog barks ..a child cries ..and there’s a sound check coming from the county bowl ..I wake up startled ..thinking there’s a half human beast howling down the canyon toward me ..my heart is racing ~ flash ~ I remember Anne saying that she “dabbles in Wikki” ..but I don’t know what that means ..it’s not in the dictionary .. so I guess I’ll go look it up on the Internet ..there's people adding to the story out there all the time

Location location location

I haven’t seen the movie, but I hear Al Gore says global warming will probably turn the Nevada desert into the high tide mark of the Pacific Ocean ..in addition to wiping out a few South Sea Islands. According to my friend Jim ..it will also turn the Sahara Desert into the lush tropical paradise that it used to be. It’s a cycle in geological time ..he says. We’re in Huntington Beach watching the US Open of Surfing. Guy next to me leans over and says: “Ya can’t see nuthin’ like this in Atlanta ..no sir. It looks sort of like NASCAR ..except them surfers are driving boards instead of cars ..and lookin for the best pole position on the wave”. I tell him he'll have to wait ..it'll be a few more years before it catches on in Georgia.

Cluelessness

Bush has no clue what life is like on the west coast ..so, he imagines things. Right now it’s a salmon shortage that doesn’t exist ..so, he’s gone ahead and placed restrictions on how many can be caught ..jacking up prices at the store and putting fishermen out of work. The salmon population of the Klamath River is declining ..that’s true. Probably has something to do with the hydro-electrical industry. On the other hand, the Sacramento River is pouring them into the ocean in record abundance. That’s nature. The federal government has put this bounty off-limits to the local fishermen. That’s ignorance of the dynamics of the California coast.

Another night

There’s a desert sky overhead ..which combines with the ocean air and makes me feel like I’m living in the tropics. Don’t get me wrong ..it doesn’t bother me, I actually enjoy tropical weather ..but lately I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Sometimes I wait until four in the morning, when it cools off, before trying ..but weather is not the only reason. I’m afraid of being attacked by the demons that bombard me in the night when I go to bed. These aren’t ghosts from the nether world ..they are my own personal fears and anxieties ..things that I haven’t learned to cope with yet ..which just bolsters my fear that I probably never will. It seems that the best I can do is anesthetize them and cover them up. So now they’re buried somewhere in my psyche waiting to come out and haunt me at night They run from petty annoyances to major stress. I’m afraid of not getting back on my feet and working at something meaningful again (!) ..and I’m afraid that I’ll never get around to decorating the house ..or finishing the laundry (?) I’m afraid I won’t even be able to keep up with the repairs ..which really tweaks my sense of self-sufficiency. Then there are the phantoms that tell me I’ll never kick my bad habits ..or make it to the gym ..or recover my interest in reading .. but you know, books contain disturbing ideas ..ones’ that I’m trying to forget ..tales of trauma and tragedy ..my thoughts become intolerable ..making me get out of bed and pace the floor at night ..I can’t seem to stop thinking about them ..or put them to rest.

Traveling ghosts

The news is so sad lately ..it’s hard for me to sleep at night let alone read the morning paper. A lot of ghosts are being released into the atmosphere ..I hope they get home all right. What’s troubling is that they die so violently ..and so far from home ..that they get lost in a middle world of desperate ghosts ..unable to move on to the next world. These are the ones that visit me at night while I sleep and plead for money to purchase a plane ticket home. I don’t have the heart to tell them that it doesn’t work that way anymore ..so I burn paper money to get their attention ..then I light a lantern and read aloud from Zen Master Dogen in hopes that they find a way out and are able to continue on with their journey. I feel worse for their loved ones who are suffering thousands more sleepless nights in this world. It’s for you that I write.

Ventilation

I feel hyper but I don’t see the reason ..didn’t get much sleep last night ..I should be passed out on the beach right now ..instead I’m dusting bottles and sweeping the deck ..if I stop, I feel like everything will unravel. I call my sister to see how things are going with her. They’re experiencing global warming in Orange County ..the air conditioners can’t cope ..the swimming pools are boiling over and the lagoons are slimy green. Her friend’s sixteen-year-old is pushing the envelope of reckless youth ..got his second DUI yesterday. He pays my niece to do his homework. I say ..hey, I can do that. My sister says that I should try tutoring at the local college. Good idea, I reply ..do they need help writing bad poetry? She senses my edginess and tells me that my niece is at the ‘Warped’ music festival today ..she says something good always comes out of that ..like last year it was ‘my chemical romance’ ~ You mean to tell me she’s taking ecstasy now ~ Hey, don’t be so cynical ..are you keeping up with your writing practice ~ I guess you haven't read my blog lately ~ Yes I have ..I just get distracted sometimes ..hey, you know ..a good way to get more traffic on your blog? Plug it into MySpace dot com ~ Are you kidding? ..kids are brutal these days ..they’ll pour in like banshees ..hack it apart ..and spray paint the remains with graffiti. On second thought, that may not be such a bad idea.

Lunatic beat

I have my own theory about treating mental illness ..if you want to contain the deranged ..put them in a bigger container ..just as many people recover on a large stretch of sandy beach as they do in a mental institution. Now, I can use a padded cell just as much as the next person ..but I prefer a sandy beach. Which is more or less the reason I live where I do. It’s therapeutic. I don’t remember the last time I drove on anything wider than a two lane road. A town farther north like Santa Cruz would be nice ..but I don’t want to push a good thing ..besides, life follows me where ever I go and I wind up just as intolerable in the next place ..ask anyone. Maybe a psychotic breakdown is healthy every once in a while ..it’s like a new perspective ..I think Eastern mystics would call it visionary. I grew up to the sounds of women screaming (five sisters ..go figure). I still hear them when there’s no one around. I scream back occasionally. Hey, no matter how many times a coyote hears a siren ..it howls back. The spirits of Nopal Canyon are getting angry ..everybody here acts like they own the place ..when in reality .. we’re all just passing through .. living in temporary shelter made out of bones. We’re the nomads of skeleton land. I hate crows ..and they know it. That’s why they gather outside my bedroom window and screech all day. What really worries me though is when tree limbs crash through my skylight. I hate to think of what that means. It’s all connected though. The spirits know. The traffic grows silent ..a siren wails ..police chase me for sport ..I pull over and traffic roars by like a freight train. I drive on the shoulder until I come to an off ramp ..and disappear down the side streets. I don’t need to run away to another northern town ..it’s me that I need to find sanctuary from.

Demolition experts

I have a theory about the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve weren’t cast out ..they blew it up themselves. When I first arrived in Santa Barbara, I felt like a kid at summer camp. Our offices were within walking distance to the beach ..or the university. I found that I could develop computing systems in my head while sitting on the bluffs overlooking the ocean. I had a talented group of co-workers ..and an account manager named Sherry who was our best promoter. We were at the top of our game ..none of the other consulting groups won as many contracts ..or contributed as much to the revenue stream. Nobody screwed with us. I went out on medical leave in 1999. While I was gone, Sherry retired to Arizona to take care of her ailing husband. With her gone, people from headquarters saw a need to take-charge. They stepped into a foreign culture. They brought in a manager named Pete. The ‘talent’ bailed. Pete immediately set out to demolish our relationship with local customers. Pretty soon they were complaining to headquarters that they were not getting the service they were accustomed to. When I returned in 2000, headquarters asked me to step-in and help since I was the only one left after the exodus. I talked to the customers. They told me they had awarded us contracts worth millions of dollars, and were waiting on bids for several more. They said it felt as if their requests had fallen into a black hole. They were frustrated. So I sat down with Pete, but he acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about. I started thumbing through a stack of official-looking folders on his conference table ..saw one that said ‘Supply chain link’ and went “Hey Pete ..here they are ..!?” He said he had no idea what they were asking for, so he wasn’t about to take any chances assigning them to someone. He also didn’t like me snooping around ..so he handed me a virtual ‘broom’ and told me to get busy. Pretty soon I was bumping into other people sweeping a virtual floor. I asked Pete why everybody was sweeping the floor. I got swept up into a ‘smart-ass remark investigation’. Ahhh, the wheel had turned and paradise was gone. I stuck around and met some of the new people ..then ducked-out. Shortly after that, CSC lost several big accounts and were forced to shutdown the Santa Barbara branch. Ironically, they put Pete in charge of dismantling everything ..including his job. He actually called me up at home one day to ask me how to do that. I just said good luck. I felt we had everything we needed ..and blew it up.

Sierra high

We cross a pass at 12,000 feet and follow the trail down a river gorge so steep I look up to see a waterfall coming out of nowhere ..crashing into the river below ..vaporizing into mist then dissolving into rainbow. We reach the wilderness around Crater Lake ..way above the timberline ..filled with boulders, scree and other glacial debris ..closely surrounded by a rim of high sierra peaks ..it looks more like something you’d see on the moon. A tiny black speck appears high up on one side ..just below a gap between two peaks. Jack says he thinks it’s moving ..we check the forestry service maps ..but there are no trails up there ..it looks inaccessbile ..we make jokes about the abominable snowman ..but we check back from time to time while setting up camp. It is definitely moving down the slope. It reaches the bottom but it’s still too far away to tell what it is ..so Jack takes a look-out postion sprawled on top of a boulder with binoculars. It keeps disappearing and reappearing over the boulders in no-mans land ..always moving this way. I light the butane stove ..Jack yells out that it’s definitly human ..a man ..and he hasn’t slowed down a bit. He disappears behind some boulders then suddenly looms up over the rocks and walks right through our camp ..humming loudly as he goes. Jack asks him if he came from one of the peaks he’s pointing to. Yah, I spent the night there. Jack asks where he started from. Sequoia. No shit, that’s far ..how long did it take? Three months. What trail were you on? None, I’m hiking cross-country. You mean you’ve haven’t been on a trail for three months ? Yah. He takes out several topo maps to show us where he’s been. We tell him he’s welcome to stay the night at our camp. No thank you, he says ..if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. We watch him hike out ..and dissolve into rainbow.

Note: I haven’t actually been to the Sierras for a few years now ..but I kept good notes.

Cosmic Charlie

Sometimes while I’m working in Photoshop ..I’ll accidentally lose a layer ..and everything I’ve done since then will be floating around disconnected from anything I’d done before. It's like what happens when layers of my memory get peeled away and I become disconnected from anything that went on before ..like Robinson Caruso ..even my present surroundings look unfamiliar. I walk down State Street for the millionth time ..and it’s like the first time. I have no clue what’s coming next. Without memories, I have no way of putting together an image of what lies ahead. The pavement dissolves ..and I advance unhinged ..without a script. Someone materializes and says hi ..looks at me for a moment and passes by. Anyone who looks that sweet is always passing by. But, hey ..no memories ..no expectations ..if border guards stop me out here ..I have no baggage ..nothing to claim or deny. That’s what I like about Photoshop ..it helps me see things unhindered by my usual way of looking at them. And if any of this makes sense ..you need to take a break from Photoshop too.

Introduction

The Goth-fairy subculture is growing fast ..and they are no longer content to dwell in the realm of our imagination ..they are stepping out and committing vicious attacks in other parts of our psyche ..the parts we like to cherish and preserve ..the places where kittens in the grass, or rabbits in the field come from. When these attacks occur the things we cherish begin to disappear ..more than likely in a pot of stew .. along with the squirrel .. fox ..turtle ..and the dove. Mothers ..please tell your children not to be fooled by these new members of the fairy world ..they are not like Tinker bell or any one else you'll ever meet in Never Land. They have fallen very very far from the Pixie tree. They are more likely to be found in the backstreets and alleyways of the dis-enchanted forest ..or at the mosh pits of heavy metal shows in places like Sacramento or Modesto. Instead of sprinkling you with Pixie dust ..they are more likely to stone you with angel dust.

Fairytale begins here ~~> Chapter one

Paranoid delusions

I get no sleep ..I tank up on coffee, ginseng and a whole assortment of herbal remedies but still end up feeling weary for the rest of the day. I call you on the telephone but get dismissed. That was a blow ..I try to think ..what did I do to deserve that ..did I forget to comment on your pretty outfit ..or stare too long at someone else’s pretty outfit. Experience tells me that it is more likely something I neglected to do than something I actually did ..an error of omission ..those are the worst kind ..but if there’s something I learned from my former marriage ..it’s how thoughtless I can be ..I remember all the times she would sit on the beach and fry while I was surfing .. her skin was so fair ..it wasn’t until she started building shelters out of material she found on the beach (which I thought was pretty resourceful) that it occurred to me to go out and buy a beach umbrella. Oh, I know what it is ...I didn’t take you to the Emmylou Harris concert ..no, that can’t be it ..you don’t know that I went to the concert ..besides, it was a last minute invitation from Joey ..I didn’t even know I was going until, like ..half an hour before the show. Now I’m panicking ..all kinds of thoughts are racing through my puny little brain ..what did I do ..did I buy wine from the wrong vineyard ..one that’s not eco-friendly ..do you think I’m stingy with my pot ..you know I have a habit of cleaning up after myself ..did I say something offensive ..like the story about Ryan’s romantic fiasco ..I was only trying to be amusing ..did you find out about the time I spent at Camarillo state ..I was working there ..damn you Brian ..I don’t go around telling other people where you and I know each other from. I start to wonder if I have become so displeasing that you’d rather watch a cooking show on TV than chat with me over the phone .. that’s OK, my phone calls won’t bother you anymore ..besides, you are much too sensitive ..and you take things way too personally ..then blow them totally out of proportion. Later on you call to say you’re sorry for sounding a bit down over the phone earlier ..but the humidity was bothering you and you didn’t want to sound bitchy.

Note: Camarillo state is a nearby psychiatric facility ..I was just kidding about that. Brian and I know each other from our former place of employment ..so it wasn't a big lie.

Stream of consciousness

The Japanese music I hear sounds mildly erotic ..Tori Amos music is definitely erotic ..images of my friend Alicia come to mind ..Liz Phair lyrics are erotic ..or is that only because I can picture the warning label ..I’m going deeper into my memory for erotic music ..I remember the Beatles used to be good ‘date’ music ..Cat Stevens was definitely sensual as well as Sade ..I’m fussing with my ideas and editing my thoughts ..now I think that there’s not much depth to my knowledge of erotic music ..I feel a jab of pain hit me in my chest ..I tell myself I lack initiative because I don’t want to go hiking ..or join the drum circle today ..another jab ..I rationalize by telling myself that I had a pretty intense week so it’s OK to just sit here and see what comes up ..feels a little better now ..I remind myself to keep hydrated ..and breathe deeply ..the pain diminishes even further ..I think, OK ..I’ll focus on my breath for awhile ..deep breathing relieves pain whereas shallow breathing gets congested like, um ..um ..oh, what’s the word ..‘mung’ water ..no, that’s what I called it as a kid ..‘stagnate’ water, that’s it ..now I’m thinking in metaphors ..now I’m thinking who cares ..now I’m thinking about the latest metaphor for the mind ..3-dimensional networks of information ..now I’m thinking about what other people will think about this ..I always think that they think I’m a little too ‘far-out’ ..and I don’t mean far-out as in ‘cool’ or ‘interesting’ ..more like far-out as in ‘weird’ or ‘irrelevant’ ..my dad is a thinking man ..and I always hear him saying that he has no concept for what I'm talking about ..maybe obtuse is a better word ..I don’t think in concrete terms ..mostly fuzzy abstractions .. pedantic is another word that comes to mind ..I’m just so full of self-importance that I think everybody needs to hear what I have to say ..no, I think it’s more like insecurity .. I spend a lot of time compensating for a bad high school education.

‘Proprioceptive writing’ is similar to ‘stream of consciousness’ writing. It is a method for expressing thoughts as you hear them. If you’re interested, click here ~~>Proprioceptive Writing .

Island

There’s a dream I keep having where I’m running in slow motion ..and snakes are catching up with me ..I fall off a cliff and scream ..but no sound comes out ..I’m laying in a green field ..children stand around me and stare ..from a safe distance ..like I’m a wolf playing dead ..a little girl walks over and lays down a handful of freshly picked poppies .. I accept them and put my hands together in a gesture of gratitude ..a mynah bird lands on her shoulder ..saying “pay attention ..pay attention”..I ask who it’s speaking to ..me or her ..and she says: “Anybody who can hear ..they remind us to see what’s near.” I look around ..this is definitely paradise .. sparkling waves on the beach ..waterfalls coming out of the face of cliffs ..mists above the trees ..she asks me if I’m hungry ..I follow her into a cove ..along the edge of a lagoon ..jade green ..and into a village made of driftwood huts “pay attention ..pay attention” ..I see women pit-baking shell fish .. men spearfishing in pools “pay attention ..pay attention” A taller and darker version of the flower girl is standing at a door ..she is wearing a white Muslim shirt, diesel jeans and coral jewelry ..come in come in ..she says ..I gorge myself on baked salmon while the mother asks me if I’ve ever ridden a Harley Davidson ..she says she would like to get a Yamaha dirt bike ..and maybe a boat ..she shows me pictures in a Sears and Roebuck ‘spring and summer catalog’ from like 1962 ..wedgy shoes and wonder bras ..she says that the island just won a claim for royalties from oil drilling operations dating back to the sixties ..she wants to know where she can ‘trade’ them for these goods ..I tell her about a major university just up the coast with computers that anybody can use ..she should get an eBay account ..she tells me she wants an Apple computer with an IPod and .. “pay attention ..pay attention” I wake up in bed ..my alarm clock plays a tape of Jim Morrison saying “pay attention ..pay attention” ..from a poem that starts something like: “Is everybody in ..the ceremony is about to begin.”

Emmylou

I saw Emmylou Harris at the bowl last night ..she was singing with former members of Dire Straits. Now, I’ve been following Emmylou for a long time ..ever since the early days when she played the local colleges with Linda Ronstadt and Jackson Browne. I sort of have a of a soft spot for her. I’ve been to just about every one of her bowl appearances over the last 10 years. However, I’ve never been what you’d call a Dire Straits fan ..never seen them in concert ..but I like them ..even have a few of their CD’s .. ‘Love over gold’ and ‘Brothers in Arms’ ..but I sort of lost track of them. I never imagined I’d ever see them play together. So, here I am ..8th row center ..watching Emmylou Harris and Mark Knopfler singing duets like ‘Michelangelo’ and ‘Why Worry’. Emmylou was wearing bright green snake-skin boots ..very cool. I look around ..and it’s like I’m in a hippie colony ..there are a lot of grey beards ..Birkenstocks ..organic dresses ..and that sweet old smell of something. I look at the people in the seats next to me ..a young lesbian couple on my left ..and an even younger, straight couple ..almost high school age ..sitting on my right. Surprising. The two young women share some of their pot with me. They dance to tunes like ‘Espresso love’ and ‘Sonny Liston’. They keep yelling: “louder” ..and complain about all the ‘ballads’ ..they want to rock and roll ..and head down toward the stage. The quiet couple sitting next to me enjoy everything ..they ask me where the ‘noisy girls’ went ..I tell them they needed more volume ..and laugh. We listen to some really beautiful duets like ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and ‘Far away’. Afterwards I ask them whether they are Emmylou fans or Dire Straits fans ..half expecting them to say Dire Straits ..they say: “Ohhh, Emmylou by far”. (However, we all agree that Dire Straits are fine too.) That’s great, I say ..surprising but great. He tells me he’s in a band ..and that his father turned him on to all the greats like Gram Parsons, Roger McGuinn and Chris Hillman. She says she was a go-go dancer at the Whiskey in Los Angeles. That makes sense, a lot of rock legends started out there. She tells me that's where she met her boyfriend ..he was playing in a high school ‘battle of the bands’ show while she was dancing on the stage. I wonder if his father could of ever imagined that. Ahhh, but they were really sweet. Gram Parson’s fans ..I would of never imagined that.

Daybreak in pink

I wake up this morning with the sunrise ..I see pink fog drifting by the window ..I sit up and stare ..it looks like another planet out there. It seems like this immense pink presence is trying to get in .. pushing on the walls ..and pouring through the cracks. I go around opening all the window covers ..it’s even waiting for me at the door ..and getting brighter. I go outside to sit and stare ...watch the mist pass around me and under the tables and chairs. I drink some coffee and read the paper ..but the words slide off my eyes and disappear into pink air. I shake my head and try to think ..but there’s nothing but a bunch of half-baked ‘sleazy’ ideas rattling around up there ..by ‘sleazy’ I mean ‘shadowy and unclear’ ..like the fog passing by ..intriguing ..but nothing I can hang on to. Better let them dissolve and pass ..leave space for the next ones to come and take their place.

Stepping out

Solstice Celebration

I guess if I had to choose .. my favorite part of the parade was the Viking ship. It looked like a dragon ..and there were ‘Vikings’ dancing around it to the beat of Congo drums. It's not just a parade ..it’s like a moving theater ..because they were frequently attacked by hordes of ‘barbarians’ ..armed with big rubber mallots and swinging balls ..who called themselves the ‘corporate raiders’. Everything else was relatively peaceful. There were costumed gymnasts doing back flips ..traveling minstrels ..inline skaters doing trick stuff ..elves and fairies either passing out flowers ..squirting water or throwing confetti eggs ..that sort of thing. No nudity this year. Not that I’m a perv ..I just see it as another sign of growing intolerance. Later on Brian asked whether or not I saw the giant jelly fish squirting purple fluid ..I’m afraid I missed that ..but I could see the purple stains all over his shirt. Smelled like Burgundy. When we got to the festival in the park, there were people, music, funny looking costumes ..and just about anything else you can imagine ..coming at me from every direction. I particularly like the scent of patchouli oil. I went to a booth and tanked up on lemonade. I wanted to be ready. My favorite part of the festival is dancing to the circle of drummers ..I guess that’s because, for me ..it’s the closest thing to an outdoor rock concert. There were belly dancers wearing earth tone chiffon ..‘ocean’ girls, from the parade, painted aqua blue ..and tons of tie dye. The lead drummer looked like he commanded some kinda' respect ..with a big, tall conical hat ..long grey hair ..violet color spectacles ..big ivory beads ..and African shorts. Anne came wearing a long red-and-silver skirt, pink tee and a dark blue sequin vest .. how festive! She also brought her own tambourine ..so I guess you could say she was ‘with the band’. I swear my body has it’s own memory for old rock shows ..as well as a few recent aerobic classes ..because, after awhile ..I don’t have to think much about what I’m doing.

My first high

I take a deep breath ..hold my breath ..then let it out slowly ..feeling the locks on my brain dissolve. We’re in an abandoned horse stable, off the beaten track, somewhere between high school and home. Biff is looking at me through squinty eyes and smiling. I smile back. “What do you think ..?” he asks. “Sweet” I say. He nods appreciatively and tells me I’m in for a treat ..this batch was cured in DMT. I tell him I don’t know what that means. “It’s psychoactive” he says. Halfway through the next hit my fingers start tingling ..then go completely numb. My hands swell up like balloons ..which makes handling the joint a major task. I try to explain this to the others when I realize that my lips have gone numb and I can’t hear myself speak ..until half a second later when it sounds like my voice is coming out of loudspeakers, located somewhere over my head, going “where did you get this shit, Biff ..?” I look around to see where the sound is coming from and everyone starts laughing ~ flash ~ all I can see are Mike and Biff squinting and grinning at me ~ flash ~ now I’m squinting and grinning back. Images are actually reaching me in flashes ..like a movie in slow motion with some of the scenes removed. I feel like I’m 20 feet tall handling a tiny burning ember ..and trying to make sure I don’t swallow it while inhaling ~ flash ~ we’re walking down a trail leading to a residential street ~ flash ~ it looks like Mike and Biff are switching directions in front of me and so I shout. They tell me that they’ve been going straight ..I’m the one who must be switching directions. I’m convinced we’ve been walking in circles and are no farther from the place we started ~ flash ~ we’re passing around a garden hose in someone else’s front yard ~ flash ~ Teresa pulls over and goes “Hello boys, wanna’ ride?” and I’m like ..thank God. Then I stop and go “Wait, you OK to drive? I mean we’re pretty stoned.” Mike looks at me, laughs and says “just get in and maintain.” Teresa is looking at us from the front seat and laughing “You guys are pretty fucked up, huh?” I mumble something incoherent ..causing her to laugh even harder. I hear her say “I have to run by the gift shop ..you guys mind?” and I feel a jolt of paranoia shoot up my spine. The gift shop is by the donut shop where the cops hang out. I hear my brain shout “engage maintenance faculties NOW” ~ flash ~ I’m trying to find my way out of the gift shop ~ flash ~ HORROR!! The cops really are at the donut shop, I can’t leave now. I start pacing back and forth ~ flash ~ I smile as we drive by. The cops stare back so hard ..it looks like their necks are stretched out and their heads are actually in the car with us ~ flash ~ I’m standing in my driveway ~ flash ~ I’m kneeling on my driveway ~ flash ~ I’m fishing for the keys inside my pocket, which has grown an extra foot deep. I’m relieved to find one that opens the door. My throat feels like a dusty staircase .. I drink some juice and feel it splash down every step ~ flash ~ I wake up and it’s noon the next day.

Dos Equis

I’m careening recklessly down the street, swearing at anybody who even thinks about getting in my way. I arrive at the credit union just in time to pay my mortgage before they start charging late fees ..and, in my paranoid state of mind, threatening to make arrangements for me to begin living on the street. I cruise along the shoreline with the top down trying to soothe my nerves. I make a sudden stop to parallel park ..and hear the sound of another driver calling me an asshole. I walk out on the sand ..drop my shorts ..and run into the water ..drenching the last frying nerve fiber. I still can’t seem to think straight. I walk into a liquor store ..dripping wet .. pick up a few bottles of Dos Equis ..a newspaper ..and a towel. I go back out to the beach to try and clear my head. Now something I’m reading doesn’t make sense. It says President Bush has just created the largest marine preserve in U.S history. Great, now I'm imagining things. I shake my head ..drink some more beer ..then read it again very carefully. Sure enough, he did. Says he was inspired by reading a Dr. Seuss book. The 'Lorax' reminds him of the ‘sleepy-eyed monk seal’ off the coast of Hawaii. That’s wonderful ..! My favorite Dr Seuss book is ‘Horton Hears a Who’. That’s where an elephant shows everyone how precious life can be no matter how small, humble or poor. I wonder if Bush will get around to reading that one too.

Chain reaction

There are some things in my life I don't understand ..well, actually ..many things. What I have come to notice, however, is that most things happen in cycles. For instance, I have a sleep-wake cycle ..as well a daily energy cycle. There are cycles for refreshing my senses ..keeping information flowing freely ..as well as cycles of integration going on inside my head ..keeping my ideas fresh and up-to-date. The ideas I have one day don’t always agree with one’s I have on another day. However, I don’t think of them as ‘contradictions’ ..they’re part of a natural rhythm that keeps me flexible and in tune with the world-at-large. When that rhythm is lost ..conflicts emerge. Suddenly things aren’t going the way I want ..or expect them to. Usually happens when I haven’t been keeping up the practice of refreshing my ideas. When these conflicts go unresolved too long ..they compound ..and I begin to feel at odds with the world. Harmony is lost ..and delusions appear. When harmony is lost ..friends come around offering advice ..when this fails ..and my life slides further into disorder ..doctors and lawyers appear.