A View From the Lawn

On vacation a few miles from home, pondering. Resting on a lounge chair, reading, admiring nature can all be done without having to take a flight, rent a room or spend money. What are people running from? Having peace within is all that one needs.

 

The Most Beautiful Eyes

I notice that a new post hasn’t been updated in a couple of months. It’s almost as if reaching the year anniversary fulfilled a milestone. Or, possibly, the lack of wordsmithing is an indicator of the clutter of living that has distracted the out pour of random thoughts which is this page, knowing, without question, that my thoughts are not random at all. Could that be the connection? I have also had off-and-on nightmares since the last post. I have learned over the years that nightmares for me mean an imbalance of work and play, not enough fun in the “live” category, a clogging of the way things work, a kind of forced existence. Realization is the beginning. For example, in the last couple of months I have added the most beautiful eyes to my everyday, began anew on a couple of different creative levels, and have not allowed the phyical drain of autoimmunity stop me.  I feel the equilibrium thawing through.

Beautiful Eyes

 

Blog-Thought: Aztlan Underground

Blog-Thought: Aztlan Underground

After a year of “Everything’s Connected, Everything” the categories of Live, Play, and Work still hold true to their “synchronicitous’ synergy. This band and I have a long history. Since my anti-establishment upbringing till now dissent is the most American form of expression. Got a chance to get to know the band a little over the past few weeks. They allowed me to create and live a bit of that aforementioned synergy. Thank you Yaotl, Joe, Zo, and Caxo. If you don’t know of AUG’s oeuvre it is time to listen. And just for the sake of clarification Aztlan is not the same as Azlan of C. S. Lewis fame. Enjoy.

 

Doubting Wind

Confidence. I’m remembering the influential power of “if”. Remember the Dennis Hopper photographer line when he says, If makes up L IF E?

The outside world will try to kill your confidence — don’t let it! Life is about doing. A lesson worth repeating to the self. Especially when doubt sets in.

The wind doesn’t ask should I blow; it just blows.

 

Blog-Thought: Car Wash

Read somewhere where one should make it a habit to visit places one is unfamiliar with–that going to the same restaurant, movie theater, hiking trail, gas station week to week and year to years is a subconscious sign of one’s “fear of the unknown”. I bought into this idea and have been, in a way, forcing myself to finds new places to visit, neighborhoods to drive through, and ways to satisfy my cravings for years. Try it it works.

Who washes your car?

Along these lines I took my car to a Car Wash to get cleaned (something I usually like doing at home with pail and water hose in hand). As I waited for my car to pass each station I noticed an eerie similarity between the looks I got from the workers as I looked through the protective glass and the looks of the animals in the zoo as I stop and stare at each exhibit (especially the gorilla, orangutan, and chimpanzee). I had always explained the look of being forced to be in a place they did not seem happy to be in (at the zoo) by telling myself, Oh, it’s just me adding human emotion to the body language and  stagnant eyes of these animals. This same thought wasn’t as easily pushed aside this time. Another thought came in: is this also what social class, immigrant status, gender and religious views say to those that aren’t like oneself?

Through protective glass

As the car moved on the conveyor I kept thinking, thinking about all those times, while at the zoo, that I wondered about how these animals got to these cages and electric fenced, man-made “habitats”. I remembered the times I had read about how animals had escaped late at night. I lost my car for a few minutes as I thought about how many of these men would escape.

When I returned I noticed that the man that I tipped had a hard time looking at me in the face as I thanked him.

I can say with certainty that I’ll wash my car in my drive way for a while before I go back to a “Hand” Car Wash. I’m glad I went, though. Maybe I should stay away from the zoo, too.

Detailing the Car Wash details

 

Beginnings, not Ends

Is this the end?

Driving ’round the street I end up here. Traffic due to street lane construction reveals a hidden message. Is this a “Blade Runner” flashback or an apocalyptic flash forward? Watch the spontaneity of image, the synchronicity of living; focus on the beauty of technology and the “end” of stagnation, not the defeatist mindset of congestion. It is the end of the ancient whine and the beginning of roaring new possibility. Out.

 

Radio Hill

Is the signal coming in?

Who is filling your antennae? Is one standing tall to recieve the waves? Are you flooring it when you get to a yellow at the intersection? One is what one allows reception to. The wisdom of Radio Hill.

 

Lasting Long Enough

Felt old for the first time the other day. Treated differently because of my age is what I mean. I remember John Huston’s line in “Chinatown” were his Noah Cross says something about how both whores and “old” people were respected if they lasted long enough. Mr. Cross used this phenomenon to get what he wanted. I stare at this ‘ 70s fan and background, contemplating. If this fan could speak?

 

Simply Walking

Something as simple as walking to school: green spiral notebook in arm, pencil, eraser,  two pens in my front pocket. Movement in natural time. Not too fast or slow. Waiting for the traffic light to change to red so I could walk across as the people in their cars looked out to the strangeness of someone not driving down the whirring intersection. I was a school kid again. Have to remember to this again soon. I like the presence of being on foot. Simple things matter in the tumult of the everyday.

Every step begins with a journey.

 

Blog-Thought: For No Reason

It has always happened. There isn’t a time were I can’t remember feeling sad for no reason. It’s a natural cycle. Nothing wrong, really. Low instead of medium. Physically cold even though it’s 63℉ and sunny. Nothing matters–even the things that take me high into existence. Music all sounds the same, movies are the same banal archetypes I’ve seen hundreds of times before, ideas from great minds are uninspiring and forced, oblong on a jagged plane. Even the internet can’t remove this boredom. Sometimes it lasts for hours, a day or two. It always wears away in time.

Rain, rain go away.

I think of it like the turbulent Porciúncula during a darting rain. Its murkiness settles from seven foot smashes as they hit up against concrete on N. Main to inch-deep arroyos within hours, a day or two. It always wears away in time. Out.