Thursday, August 30, 2012

Anyhow, I sat by your side by the water

You know, it's not always baby powder and feathers, these lives we lead, but we can spare ourselves a shit load of suffering if we channel our energy in beneficial and resourceful ways. If you're like me and sometimes feel lousy about stuff, there are pathways that will lead to a much better place. Lately, I've been feeling a strong desire to be in a relationship. Rather than convince myself that it won't happen any time soon, that it is my destiny to remain alone, which is something I'm only a little bit ashamed to admit I've done in the past, I thought "Why don't I try thinking the opposite? What could it hurt? If it doesn't work out, I can always go back to my self-defeating ruminations."

Right on! That's how we're going to play it. Yes, because here's the deal: I'm not everyone's cup of tea, to be sure, but I feel confident in saying my positives outweigh my negatives. I like long walks on the beach, hiking in the mountains, frequenting museums, or just staying in watching old movies and eating pizza. Oh, and did I mention I'm a good cuddler? LOL.....Really, it's true. I'm attentive and caring and will rub your back as you sip wine. John Maher will be playing in the background.....Your body is a wonderland.....

Oh, hey, I'm sorry about all that. I've been working on my Match.com profile and it must have carried over to this post. Anyway, what do you think? A work in progress, but you can't deny its potency. Ladies, don't tell me if you saw some of that in a guy's profile, you wouldn't get all giddy with possibilities. You'd be consumed with the idea of dating him. Or something like that.

Anyhow....

Back to me being a guy who is not only worthy of being in a relationship, but could quite possibly be a good boyfriend to have, provided you're okay with the occasional key party and a fair amount of yelling (Don't worry, baby, I won't do it again. Work's been tough, I still haven't processed 9/11, I've been a little punchy because of the gout, but things will get better, you'll see). I'm not so bad; I've seen much worse. And here's another thing: While it can be said that I'm undeniably horny for women (and lately that has been an understatement), there is more to say on the matter.

As it happens,some of my dearest friends are women. I know, it's insane to say it, but I actually enjoy their company. Sure, I'd be lying if I said on some level there haven't been pockets of libidinous urges that assert themselves from time to time, but they are suppressed by my suave and gentlemanly ways. That's another appealing trait I possess: suppressing stuff. Women like that, I'm told.

So look out, ladies, I'm coming for you (I realize that sounds threatening, but I'm too sleepy to channel my inner Cyrano.) You have been warned.

The weekend looms. As I stated above, I'm sleepy. I haven't been getting a ton of sleep lately and today was another busy one at work. I came home and did laundry, cleaned the bathroom while I daydreamed about a better living situation, changed bulbs in the basement (I'm going to have to tell the guys how quick and easy the process was. Who would have thought?), and now this. I need to get some sleep. Before that happens, I'll meditate on how I'd like my life to be and then, someday, bit by bit, it will manifest. Beats being a wet blanket.

Make it hap'n, Cap'n!

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

As gentle tides go rolling by along the salt sea strand

A long day, but it flew by. We were busy at work, but not stressed out busy. I came home and once again felt the desire to move. A mess, shit strewn about everywhere. I don't feel like I live here; my imprint rolls back like the tide. I like my roommates personally but they don't put any effort into the upkeep of the place. For example, the three of us were talking in the kitchen the other day and they both told me their experiences with walking to the dryer in the basement with no light. Two of the lights stopped working a while ago. Because I haven't been down to the basement very much over the last several months, I had forgotten about the issue. Not Matt and Fred; they were laughing about how many times they've been down there and almost broken their necks in the darkness.

"Well, we better tell Rick about the problem", I said. "It's just a couple of bad bulbs", Fred replied and Matt nodded. I was speechless, but I wish I would have asked the obvious question: "So why not put new bulbs in?" I didn't say anything, but I don't think I would have gotten through to them if I did. That's where I'm at: I know the score; it's time to move on. Where? When?

All will become known.

In the meantime, I need to start thinking about going to bed earlier than I have been. Time to prepare. G'night, lads and lasses.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Come on, come on, try and catch me, try and catch me

Oh, Monday, it's not your fault you couldn't live up to a great weekend, yet I'm glad I'm almost through with you. I'm tired and the prevailing thought of the day was that I should have taken you off so I could lounge around like Baby Boy Z or any other of my canine friends. Still, it was a good day, save for the ominous appearance of the engine light as I headed in to work. I'm hoping it's not going to cause a major headache.

To balance the mild stress of the car situation, I was offered a full time position at work, which basically amounts to about ten more hours a week. Now I'll  be able to buy stuff I don't need or even really want. Look out, Walmart, here I come! Daddy needs himself a fryolater.

Camping went well. The weather was only a fraction away from perfect and so was the company. Spira, Missy D, and I went up together on Thursday; Mike and Kreg arrived earlier in the day; and Kristen arrived on Friday. Over the years my friends and I have camped at this location in the Green Mountains of Vermont, fewer and fewer sites have been made available to campers. Fortunately, Mike found us a fantastic one. It was off the road a bit, the main part wide and open to the sky, and right next to a stream and its pools to bathe in. Ideal.

The four of us went for a nice hike on a trail I had hiked a few years back. Nice, except for the fact that it was uphill the entire way back. I had forgotten about that. Kreg wanted to kill me, but he ended up appreciating the challenge. It was a good workout, to be sure - physical and mental - but everyone took something from it.

Spira and I practiced yoga after the hike. It was a nice session, with Spira imparting some of what she learned in Maui. What else did we all do? Well, we bathed in the icy revivifying stream, sat around the fire and socialized, read, ate a lot of food, played and listened to music. An asshole bee stung me on the middle finger as I was digging a hole to shit in. That put a painful stamp on my last day at camp, but I only complained about it like a toddler most of the day. Fuckin' hurt, man!

Missy D had a wonderful time. She fashioned at least three beds around the campsite and did plenty of exploring. She was such a good girl the entire time. Whenever I wandered off to get wood, she came along. Every morning, I'd come into Spira's tent and snuggle up with her for a bit. Man, do I love this pooch.

It would have been tough, or, to be more precise, tougher leaving on Saturday if it wasn't for the party at Rachael and Mike's we were headed to. It took Spira and me a long time to get there. They live a bit off the beaten path in New Hampshire; we drove many a winding road through parts of the state I'd never been to. Lots of farmland and rivers and hills. Quite scenic.

We didn't reach the house until around seven thirty. Our first order of business upon arriving was to shower (thank goodness they had two of them) and then set up tents before it got dark. Fortunately, there was room in the house to sleep, so we did without the tents.

Post shower and fresh as a daisy, I settled into the party and had myself a fine time with friends old and new. Shane, Scott and I broke out the guitars and played each other songs. Shane and I sang Devendra Banhart's Lazy Butterfly together. Rachael broke out her flute (who would have thought?) and went to town. Scott and I accompanied her through Van Morrison's Moon Dance, which was choppy but a blast all the same. I was grateful for the chance to play with other people.

Later, Kat picked up a guitar and played a song from Donovan (I wish I could remember the name, especially since I'm a fan), which blew our minds, and then regaled us with some Irish folk songs. I had never heard her sing before; it was a peak experience. Scott had told me before about the raw talent she possessed, but I assumed he was also implying she had a long way to go. What a voice - I didn't want her to stop singing. She doesn't have a long way to go, she's already there. Turned out it was a mutual admiration society we had going on; Kat told after her performance that after hearing me play at Scott's wedding, she had wanted to collaborate with me. We made a pledge to do so. My head is swimming with ideas.

As for the rest of the party, well there was debauchery; not so much as to invite danger, but enough that if I were to share it, I'd be incriminating myself and others. I will say that I stayed up very late for a very worthwhile reason. I slept for a little bit on the couch in the main body of the house, but relocated to the basement when I realized there would soon be a lot of traffic all around me - dogs, children, and adults - and sleep would be impossible. I drowsily threw down a couple of blankets on the floor next to Missy D and zonked my ass out. I woke up a little stiff, but it was worth the extra bit of sleep I was able to get.

Those of us who stayed over lazed about for a good chunk of the day yesterday. Spira led Rachael, Scott, and Eszter through a yoga session while I took a walk with Missy D. It was such a glorious day, I don't think anyone wanted to leave.

But leave we did. When I arrived home, I unpacked the car and took a long nap. It was good being home, but it was too bad the weekend was over. I had spent the last several days with good friends. Yes, it was too bad, but there will be more good times to come.




Wednesday, August 22, 2012

I searched out my companions, they were lost in crystal canyons

Another busy day. All over the place for work: Boston, Lawrence twice, Andover. Practiced yoga afterward, followed by some packing and food preparation ( I made a tofu, rice, and beans dish that would give your taste buds an explosive orgasm). Tomorrow we head up to Vermont for some camping and kinship. The weather is projected to be nice. I plan on some outdoor yoga with Spira, who is going to share some of what she learned in Hawaii, sing songs all the live long day, and one or two hikes are sure to be taken. It's possible I may look for signs of Bigfoot or lay down with Missy D by the fire at night. It's also possible some of us will hit Rachael and Mike's party on the way back. Already the prospect of spending some time in their sauna, sweating off the grime and soot already adds to the appeal of going. So does seeing my friends, even the ones that may not be so keen on seeing me (Villains!).

Until then, I'm going to see if I can finish up a song or two. When I get home, I plan on embarking on a search for people willing to play on my songs. And then: FAME!! Look out Bieber, you little shit, I'm about to shame so badly your only option will be to put a bullet through that sweet haircut of yours and then spend eternity dragging your ghostly husk through the dank, gray halls of purgatory! And to the lass who wrote "Call Me Maybe", you best start thinking about retiring maybe or I'll draw and quarter your soul maybe.

Okay, time for me to get crackin' with some packin'. Oh, one more thing. I was talking with Spira earlier and she told me that whenever Missy sees a German Shepherd, she stiffens up. "You know, the same thing happens to me when I see a German Shepherd", I said. She should have laughed uncontrollably, because there is no way that wasn't comic gold. I even nailed the timing and delivery! Instead, she laughed weakly and said something about me being creepy. I'm not saying all of my jokes are knockouts, but this particular one was and it deserved a shit-ton more respect than it got. I barely held back the tears. If it wasn't for Missy D, I'd de-friend Spira on Facebook and avoid talking to her for like evah.

Alright, I'm done with you. Peace, always.


Tuesday, August 21, 2012

And when we got on the ship, he brought out something for the trip, he said "It's old, but it's good"

An active day. Work was busy and flew by. I don't say it often, but I work with some nice people. I never wake up in the morning grimacing at the thought of having to go to work. Well, I do sometimes, when I'm fussy at having been woken up, but that's never going to change, even if my job is going to the beach and lounging around.

Visited with my parents after work. We sat on the porch and talked. They offered up provisions for my camping trip (I wish more of their thoughtfulness rubbed off on me) and we ate calzone. They walked me out to the car when I left and our goodbye was prolonged, as if we weren't going to see each other for a while. Hope that's not the case.

Watched Keyhole the other night, or, to be more precise, over the last few nights. I kept falling asleep and had to pick up where I left off the previous night. The film is hypnotic and strange, a fever-dreamed shot-put of film noir,  and I'm still  not sure how to interpret it, short of saying it's either a masterpiece or one of Maddin's weaker outputs. I'm thinking the former; each time I went back to it, I felt I understood its language better. Anyway, children, if you have even a pin- prick's worth of adventure in you, I command you to watch this film. You will thank me on your knees. It's a trip, man.

Now it's off to try to record a live take of a new song. I like it quite a bit. It's been with me for a while and evolved slowly. I'm not sure, but I'm thinking it'll be called "Heaven's Dusty Stars". It contains more of a narrative than my usual fare. No, it's not about ponies.

 Here's the deal: if you know me personally (hell, even if you don't) and ever feel like I'm not doing right by you, let me have it. I don't mean take a copper pipe to my spine or a blow torch my sternum, but if you need to call me on something, do it. I may act like a baby about it, but it'll probably be for my own good and I'd get over it. FYI, this public service message isn't exactly applicable to anything going on in my life right now, though it seems to suggest I'm appealing to someone directly. I guess I'm just saying that I don't want to be the asshole in your life.

Good night, my friends.



Sunday, August 19, 2012

Now that our bones lay buried below us, like stones pressed into the earth

I spent most of the day weeding at my grandmother's house. She has a garden on each side of her house; I only managed to tackle the front and the one by the garage. Because she's 94 and not very mobile, she hasn't been able to do any landscaping. Consequently, every square inch of her gardens have been overrun with weeds. I had been asked to take care of the front of the house, but I figured I'd try and tackle more. I had arrived late in the morning and when late afternoon hit, I had only half of the job done. Around that time, my grandmother came out and asked if I was going to weed the rear gardens and the one on the other side of the house. I almost said "Are you fucking kidding me?" but I held my tongue. Instead, I said, "I'll have to come by another time to finish the rest. " I had been at it over four hours and hadn't stopped to take a break. I was beat and craved food and drink and a shower. I was a little creaky when I left, but it was gratifying work.

Earlier in the day, when I arrived at my grandmother's house - I can't believe I'm about to share this - I knocked but she never came to to the door. I let myself in and announced my presence. No response. Where was she? I hoped she was alright. I walked toward the dining room and, as I passed the bathroom on my left, I discovered where she was. A short burst of horror erupted from within as I laid eyes on my grandmother doing her business on the toilet. Fortunately, she was looking out the window and didn't see me, otherwise the scene might have achieved a level of awkwardness I'm not sure either one of us would have been able to cope with. It took me a century's worth of seconds to gather my self and book it out of there.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to release into the wild that image I forced myself to conjure for the benefit (?) of this blog. I fear it may have left an indelible mark on my psyche. Another, more immediate, fear is that my dreams will be vivid and creepy tonight.
--
I just listened to  A Love Supreme. It's potency has me vibrating still. An elevated piece of work, to be sure. I don't listen to as much jazz as I used to; nice hearing some Coltrane; it had been years. Now it's Devendra Banhart and I feel like kissing a woman hard on the lips between soft secret whispers of devotion.

I mentioned in my last post my experiences with mindfulness (exposing my bullshit, etc.). I'm still at it and the bullshit is plentiful, but there are wider, airier, pockets of clarity. The ride has gentled, turbulence has abated. Thoughts and ideas that don't resonate in a healthy way are easier to spot and address. Even if I still continue down the same path after concluding that my beliefs about a thing are false and need to be corrected, I'm at least able to be honest and direct about it. "I'm not ready to let this go", I can say to myself, knowing that eventually I will.

So with this burgeoning clarity, why am I in the grips of a "the heart wants what the heart wants" scenario that a part of my mind doubts will ever come to fruition? This has been going on for a while,which is odd because it has built its own momentum independent of any suspect contributions from me. In other words, often when thoughts of her creep up, it's not triggered by, say, a bout of loneliness or having just watched Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.  No, it's been more like a running current, always there, sometimes in the background other times at the forefront. This has made me wonder if there may be something to this business, but I'm careful about it; I know where the nettles are. It's not a bad feeling having affectionate thoughts about someone, but the potential to misdiagnose or embellish them is always there lurking in the periphery. Careful, yes, and treading lightly.

It's a fucking cliche, but I can say that here, at least,"the heart wants what the heart want" has been an accurate descriptor. All I can do is let it play out how it's going to play out. I know you're saying to yourself, "There's a lucky lady out there about to win the lottery, son!", but you'd be wise to remember that despite possessing a pure heart, radiant eyes, extraordinary wit, the intellect of a Rhodes Scholar, a will of steel, the compassion of a thousand yogis, the love and gratitude of all the world's puppies, and a singing voice that could bring every single character of The Expendables to their knees in weepy obeisance, not every woman thinks I'd make a suitable or even mildly appealing partner. That might have something to do with them knowing about all the lying and cheating I get caught up in any time I'm in a relationship. Whatever, don't tell me you don't like some drama, honey.

Anyway, that's about as much as I care to share on the subject. I probably said too much, big dummy that I am, but it's not as if I was revealing state secrets or casting evil spells upon all righteous souls or anything so egregious. Nah, I have nothing to be ashamed about - how can one be ashamed about being fond of someone? -but I'd be lying if I said revealing this doesn't make me feel a tad squirmy. The more time that passes, the more I'm convinced this business is a dead end street. Carrying on about it like an eighth grader looks even sillier in this light. Yeah, but there's a part of me that resists the wet blanket mentality and asks "Why couldn't this happen?" Right on! Look, I've faced my fair share of rejection in the past, but the past is as gone to me as...uh...something from the past. So, yeah, why not? Time will tell. In the meantime, I'm going to take a page out Forrest Gump's book and say all I have to say about that.

I heard a story about an explorer lost in the jungle. He was on the verge of death from starvation and prayed to God to lead him safety. A few hours later, stumbling through the jungle, he came across a native, who fed him and brought him back to civilization. Years later, when recounting the story in his memoir, he remarked "I prayed to God, but he never answered. Instead, a negro saved me."

Sometimes we can't see the forest for the trees.

Good night, my precious beings, and never forget to take a moment to remind yourself of your greatness. And also never forget you promised to massage my neck and shoulders (don't be afraid to use oil; just don't get it all over my silk robe).

I'm off to watch me some Keyhole.













Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Sometimes I feel that I need to move on, so I pack a bag and move on

I was in the middle of a post about suicide, but I confess I don't have the energy to complete it. I've been on the move all day and my mind is as worn as the tennis ball I found fossilized in a January snowbank. So, instead of something deeply philosophical, you're getting fluff. Nothing wrong with fluff; it goes well with peanut butter, I'm told.

Years ago, when I was as fresh and innocent as a lamb napping in a flower bed, I set foot on the spiritual path. I got my feet wet with metaphysics culled mostly from New Age texts. I went beyond the dopey-eyed mysticism of New Age and here I am, years later, getting my fucking ass kicked by Buddhism. I'm ready for it now; it wouldn't have had much appeal for me in my twenties. After all, there's not a lot of talk in Buddhism about channeled tutorials from disembodied spirits, rebirthing in a tub, or treks into the astral realm. I have read that the Buddha was pretty good at bending spoons with his mind. So there's that.

It's a hard path, this, but it can't be skirted around; it has to be experienced fully. And it's got balls, which I dig. I've always had some fight in me despite your opinion that I'm even softer than this guy:



The meat of all this is difficult for me to articulate. Just know that all my bullshit has been on display, naked and running out of places to hide. It's been quite a scene, man. I used to go looking for salamanders under rocks. The way they, and every other living thing among them, would panic at the intrusion, at being exposed so suddenly and brutally, is about how I'd describe the actions of my bullshit. No place to hide, you neurotic scallywags!

My days have generally gone like this: feel lousy, find a way to feel better, feel lousy, find a way to feel better, feel like choking the world by its asshole neck, find a way to feel better, a flurry of Lord, why have you forsaken me!? emissions, feel better and go to bed on a high note, like a champ. I've had spells of despair and catered to some unflattering thoughts, but  it can't be said that I think I have less use than a compost heap at the bottom of a lake (Huh? Remember, I'm tired). In other words, I know my worth and the negativity that has arisen is fleeting. Anyway, some pussy would help in the alleviation department. (Okay, really dude: you're unraveling, despite the urgent verisimilitude of your claim. My apologies, readers).

Evidently, I'm withering. Time to wrap this up before my tongue loosens even more and we find ourselves in the wholly immoral lower depths of ribaldry. I'll try to complete some music. I've been pleased with the new songs I've been working on. Later, I'll tenderly ruminate on the love of a woman (a sustained, gentle exhale). And then I'll sleep.

G'night, rascals. I see more and more that we are one and the same.


Sunday, August 12, 2012

I think I'll roll another number for the road, I feel able to get under any load

I awoke from a dream this morning that mottled my mind all day. In it, I found myself arriving with an overnight bag at a house Shane was staying at. We were soon to be headed to a party somewhere in New Hampshire. Shane directed me to a room where I could change my clothes. As I started to, I felt the room shift. I looked out the window and saw that the room was moving forward and lower like a train entering a subterranean tunnel.When it finally stopped, I opened the door and entered a master bedroom with white walls and carpet. There were about three or four couples in various stages of copulation. An older woman walked into the room and asked me how I got  there. She was irritated, but I got the sense these were good people and not wicked satanists engaged in some sex magic ritual that would eventually involve the sacrifice of an infant or a virgin most pure. I told her it wasn't my intention to interrupt, that I was only attempting to change my clothes in a room Shane had directed me to. When she seemed distressed that Shane was part of this, I attempted to reassure her that he had nothing to do with how I got down there. As she considered this, I began to disrobe. It was a natural impulse, even though I was doing so in front of complete strangers. Before I was completely undressed, I was summarily led out of the room by the woman and sent back up to the main portion of the house. I was told not to return. No sexy time for this guy.


More happened but the details are fragmented and unnecessary. So what was it all about? Could be there is knowledge I've stumbled upon but am not ready to receive. Maybe the dream was a lament over not having any intimate relationships. Maybe it was a reassembly of certain recent events. Perhaps it's literal; maybe Shane is part of a sex cabal. Hmm....I'll have to monitor him closely.
--
Difficult times. Fucking sucks. Yes, but I'm not shuddering in the corner, despite the anguish and bewilderment. I will battle, I will fight, whether weakly or with power. Still sucks . Anyway, I'm a bit spent from all this, so we'll move on. No need for details, we all go through mental bullshit and you've no desire to get caught up in mine.

After yoga today, I made a lunch of tuna fish with fig butter and garlic paste. I added a little olive oil, chopped watermelon, blueberries, a little feta cheese,and cashew bits. I don't need to tell you how pleased I was with this creation. It was sublime.

So, do I go see The Dark Knight Rises today? Hmm...could happen. Although, I'm not sure I need a couple of hours of an apocalyptic nightmare to raise my spirits. I recently watched No Country For Old Men; maybe I should gravitate towards something sunnier.

Tomorrow is the wake. Should be a gas. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, readers.



Friday, August 10, 2012

A prize fighter in a corner is told, "Hit where it hurts", silver and gold

This arrived in the mail today.



Trungpa's Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism was challenging, vexing, enlightening, and ultimately had a visceral affect on me. There were times I wanted to throw the book in the trash, which was a good sign; my ego didn't like having its sovereignty threatened. I'm excited to read this book.

I learned this pose (mayurasana) last week; sometimes I'm successful, sometimes I fall on my face.



I taught myself this song a few years ago, couldn't sing it very well and gave up. I re-learned it last night; I sing it much better now. It's a gorgeous song.



People are saying this is a photograph of a bigfoot. Others think it's a bear. I do, too.
It does look like a primate sitting down and looking off to its right, but most primates don't have an anus by their arm pit. Who knows, maybe it is a squatch, but I don't think so.

I plan on watching this movie by the end of the weekend. If I don't, the moon will bleed and the heavens will fall!! I'm positively giddy about seeing it. Wish me luck, vagabonds.

There is a new song that needs my attention. I have big plans for it. Peace out, bitches.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

I wish I was a trapper, I would give a thouand pelts, to sleep with Pocahontas, to find out how she felt, in the morning on the fields of green

A few years ago, my friend Keith gave me three framed posters, each depicting something Lord of The Rings related. Even though I was an avid reader of fantasy novels at the time and The Lord of The Rings trilogy was the genre's bible, I was more interested in the frames than the posters. Up until recently, only one of the three was displayed (It's in our bathroom and shows one of the Nazgul flying around Mordor in menacing fashion. It's not a comforting image, which is why I find the fact that it's in our bathroom, a place where a certain degree of comfort is expected and perhaps even necessary, so exquisitely funny). When Matt moved in, he hung up the other two (One is of Gandalf in the Shire, the other has German writing and depicts the Balroc all pissed off and intimidating as fuck.

Earlier, Fred and I were talking and I said, "Isn't it kind of funny that Lord of The Rings imagery is featured prominently in our apartment and none of us is really that into it ? I mean, anyone visiting our place would have to assume we were pretty big fans."

"I never really thought of it", he said. "You know, I wasn't even sure of who the guy was in this one (points at the one hanging over our sink) and then I kind of just figured it was Gandalf. Shows you how much I'm into the series."

Unless it's 100% kick ass, I'm about 90% inclined not to wear a Lord of The Rings t-shirt. But yet, I live in a place that has not one, not two, but THREE Lord of The Rings themed posters hung on the walls. It suggests to anyone who visits me that I'm more than a casual fan. So, should we take the prints down and hang ones that are more representative? Nah, it's kind of funny having them up. Verdict: they remain in place until I decide to replace them with images of my favorite wrestlers (Stone Cold Steve Austin representin', son!).

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

My words trickle down from a wound I have no intention to heal

During part one of the course on the Yogas of the Bhagavad Gita, Ram Dass explains, with some humor, his uncertainty over whether he, a Jewish former Harvard professor, was qualified to teach it. He related this to Swami Muktananda, who reassured him that the Gita would teach itself. "The Gita isn't a book about Krishna", he said. "The Gita is Krishna".

As faithful and attentive readers, you know I've been studying Buddhism. I never realized how complex it is. It's not just "Life is suffering, go meditate". No, there are The Seven Miracles of Mindfulness, The Four Establishments of Mindfulness, The Six Realms, The Seven Factors of Awakening, at least fifty mental formations, and so on.

A lot to take in, but I feel the teachings taking root. On the surface, I sometimes feel lost in it all, but lately my thoughts and actions seem to be born from comprehension. Being mindful has done wonders for my psyche. Like poetry, the Buddha is bypassing the self and speaking directly to the Self. The Gita is Krishna, the teachings of Buddha are Buddha. This is powerful stuff.

I'm not sure the above makes much sense; maybe this stuff has to be experienced to be understood. Maybe I'm too drowsy to articulate it correctly. I don't know. My larger point is that I've been feeling clearer, more tranquil, and studying Buddhism has certainly been a contributing factor. Yoga has helped. Meditation, too. Everything connects.

Had a truly transcendent yoga session today. I'm finally embracing what it's all about. I'm being more mindful, focusing on the breath, being gentle with myself at times, pushing myself at others. I'm letting the moment dictate the flow of the session. I'm relaxing into the poses. I'm being patient. I went almost 90 minutes today and could have gone longer. There aren't many forms of exercise that activate the mind, body, and spirit the way yoga does. At this point, I can't see it not ever being a part of my life. It better be for a while longer, at least, because I've got some yoga classes to take, courtesy of Spira and Janelle. I'm pretty excited.
--

I wrote a song yesterday that is equally pretty and haunting. That's what I think, anyway.You might think it sounds like a roomful of teething bobcats. Anyway, I'm really proud of it and every time I listen to the rough demo I recorded, I smile. Don't worry, I'm not going to push it on you or pretty much anyone else I know - I've learned my lesson. Last time I tried sharing my stuff with friends garnered almost zero feedback. I'm not bitter - I'll be writing songs no matter what and I understand there are probably several reasons, not all of them negative, that explain why this happened- but I don't want to expend the effort of  assembling and handing out material if it's not desired.

On that note, I'm going to work on some music. Have a good night, y'all!

Monday, August 6, 2012

Once my heart was filled with the love of a girl, I held her close but she faded in the night

I'm back home. It was with heavy heart that I left Missy, but, despite the closeness we shared, she's not my dog. Someday I'll adopt one, and if she's half as sweet as Missy, I'll be fortunate. Yes, it was tough saying goodbye, but I'll see her again. It wasn't like what happened with Serena; I hope she's alive and well, but I somehow doubt it.

Before Ali moved her stuff in to Spira's yesterday, we took Missy and Ali's dog, Cider, to the dog beach in Nahant. Ali and I did some swimming and the dogs had a blast exploring and chasing each other and other dogs around.

When I arrived home last night, I was delighted to find the apartment was fairly clean. I had wondered if the guys had let the place go in my absence. I was impressed, so much so that I was able to overlook the condition of the toilet (don't ask) and a couple of other trifling matters.

Fred told me Marie, our landlord, had passed away last week. It was a blessing. She hadn't been in good shape for a long time (years ago, when I moved in, I thought she looked ready to depart) and, of late, she had been completely overcome with dementia. We'd hear her banging the walls upstairs and yelling for her brother Rick every time he left the house. It was sad.  Fred added that he heard from a neighbor that Rick was toying around with the idea of selling the house. I wasn't distressed at hearing that; increasingly, I've been feeling the desire to move. But where? How?

It could be that I'm delusional, but I feel things will fall into place. I'm ready for some changes and my resolve is strengthening to seek and receive them. Sometimes I think I'll always be a perennial fuck up, but, I don't know, something tells me that might not be the case anymore. Hey, wait a minute: did I just call my self a  perennial fuck up? What an asshole! I'm not a fuck up! I'm a radiant being, with the purest of hearts and lovely eye lashes.

Starting tonight, I'm going to listen to part one of a sixteen part lecture Ram Dass gave on the Yogas of the Bhagavad Gita I found on YouTube. Each part is close to an hour long. I've listened to bits over the last few days, but I'm going to give it my complete attention. I can't wait. When I'm finished with it all, I'll be way more enlightened than you. Who's the fuck up, now?

I've been researching tantric sex, despite the unfortunate truth that I don't have anyone to practice it with (Next up: looking into affordable honeymoon destinations). Still, I find it fascinating. Based on what I'm learning, every couple, if they're even slightly fond of each other, should at least give the practice a try. I know, I know: those three to seven minutes of grunting monkey sex has served you well, but wouldn't you like to feel as if you're careening through the cosmos in a rocket of pure ecstasy? Come on, give it a shot. Do it for people like me, who are unloved and unwanted.

It's time to go. I'm pretty beat and want to mix down some stuff I recorded at Spira's. I didn't accomplish as much as I intended, but I'm pleased with what I've got, even the piano bits (I also didn't watch as many movies as I thought I would. I did, however, manage to watch The Future, Short Night of Glass Dolls, and The Shining. Not too shabby). So, I'll do some mixing and also some writing. Mostly lyrics. I've been stuck on a line; here's what I've got: These tears, they fall like.....Like what? What do tears fall like? See, writing lyrics ain't no joke.




Thursday, August 2, 2012

I want to tell that I love her a lot, but I've got to get a belly full of wine, Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, some day I'm going to make her mine



The last couple of days have been challenging but not without rewards. When I woke up yesterday, I had an intuition that the day was not going to be a tiptoe through the tulips. The first indication was being password blocked from Spira's laptop this morning. I made a few attempts at figuring it out, but was not successful (I plugged in every conceivable modification of kevinbringsdaruckus, but to no avail). I left Spira a voicemail explaining my predicament and started my day.

I walked over to the courthouse, recorded some documents, came back for the car and went to work, where I had a typical day except for the "Get your shit together!" thoughts that, out of nowhere, plopped their fat asses on my shoulders and mewled incessantly. I managed them well enough, but I suspected they were a precursor to something bigger and with sharper teeth.

Near the end of the day, I drove over to Lawrence to record a mortgage. At the registry, I waited for word of funding but it never arrived. Marcy called and asked me to try again on my way in this morning. "For you, bright eyes, I would do anything", I said. "You are one of God's children; to deny you would be to deny God." (It's possible I said none of that). A few minutes before I left, a torrent of rain arrived. My car was  only about fifty feet from the building, but by the time I reached it, I was thoroughly soaked. I was giddy from it, though. This happens only when it's a hard rain. Hard rain is exuberant and fun, but man that gloomy, weak intensity rain makes me want to horsewhip someone in the tailbone. 

The giddiness subsided when I hit the road; conditions were dicey, visibility poor. I wasn't on the highway long when my front driver's side tire blew (a fact I wasn't aware of until a bit later). Smoke everywhere. I heard rattling under the hood as I pulled over. I called AAA and then my dad to see where he wanted the car towed. Then I called Janelle to see if she might be able to pick me up at my parent's place (I couldn't gauge from my father's tone if they'd be fine with me borrowing their other car for the night) but mostly, I admit, for the comfort of hearing her voice. 

Not only did Janelle say she'd come get me (and with no trace of being put out, I might add), she arranged for Missy to be fed, which was a great relief. Earlier today, after helping me log on to Spira's laptop, I told her that in my estimation she's one of the greatest people on the planet. I did so in a kind of dopey and inarticulate way, but I was being sincere. I have to confess that I only know a mere fraction of the people residing on the planet, but I have to believe she is among the greatest. I'm willing to stake your life and the lives of your sweet, precious children on it. I've known her a long time and she continues to impress me with her character. I may be a bit of a dim bulb in many ways (at least six) but I know how to spot a gem. I also know where the Ark of the Covenant is kept. 

It didn't take long for the tow truck to arrive. As the driver hooked the car up to his truck, he told me I had a blown tire. This was good news: I'd get towed to a tire place, have them set me up with a new one, and drive home. Everything was coming up roses.

The plan almost came to fruition. At the tire place, we discovered it wasn't just a blown tire that was the problem: it appeared the strut had collapsed. Wonderful. Fortunately, the garage I originally intended to have the car towed to was on the same road. I was dropped off and waited for my parents to come pick me up, which they did not long after. 

At their house, we worked out an arrangement that allowed me to borrow their other car for the night and return with it early this morning so my mother could use it to take my grandmother to get her hearing aid tested. It took me over an hour to get home; the highway was thick with traffic. When I walked in the door, I hugged Missy. I was happy to be back with her; our bond has deepened these last several days.

The car business was a bit of a hassle, but it wasn't so bad. The tow truck driver was really nice, for one thing. And I was lucky I didn't lose control of the car and ram into a minivan full of toddlers. If none of this had happened, I wouldn't have spent most of the day talking with my dad on the porch, something we rarely get to do. At home last night, I spoke with Amanda. She's been going through stuff that makes my minuscule problems appear silly. I was grateful for being shown some perspective.

I'm tired. I want to wrap this up and wind down. I've felt unbalanced lately, like I'm being stirred in a pot, but emerging from that has been a growing confidence. Dwindling is the feeling of helplessness, of not being able to influence the course of my life. You can bet your sweet, cherubic ass that I'm going to fall on my face again and again (I'm quite adept at that), but I like my chances of breaking through any obstacles. You better hope your face is not one.

Readers, I leave you with an affirmation siphoned from within. Words have power. Let there be light!

I will follow my bliss. I will think less of myself and focus more on service to others. Every situation is pregnant with choices; I will align myself with healthy ones. I will tell her I love her. I will pursue fun activities as much as possible. I will follow through. I will see abundance in favor of lack. I will experience intimate and abiding love. My spirit will continue to be fed with meditation and yoga. I will not diminish myself when things go awry. I will not allow others to diminish me. I will know financial security. I will mature in the ways that matter and not in the ways that take away joy. I will laugh at least twice - make it five - times a day. Sex will be frequent and transcendent. Music, music, music! I will follow my bliss.