Strap yourself to a tree with roots, you ain't going nowhere

Work has been slow. I'm optimistic that things will pick up. They better: now is not a good time for me to be without income. As it stands, my hours have decreased and I've been saddled with new expenses . Ah, but you take things as they come. Let go and let God and all that jazz.

I spent the second half of my day recording at the registries in Boston and Cambridge. Despite the misty rain and raw cold air, it was good to be out and about. I especially like working at the Cambridge registry; plenty of eye candy, if you catch my carnal drift.

Too much Tune-yards - absolutely brilliant and brimming with life but the songs resonate too strongly in the head - so it's The Byrds and their lone album with Gram Parsons, Sweetheart of The Rodeo. It is sufficing quite well.

So the UN released their bleak and dire assessment of our world to come on the heels of NASA's report, which was also bleak and dire. I'm not surprised, but when it comes at you all official-like, well, it's sobering. But that won't stop people from making babies. It seems an awful lot of people aren't taking into consideration what's coming down the pike, what we're already beginning to experience. When it is taken into account, the common response is "Well, what if my child is the one who turns things around?". Look, I try to avoid being cynical, but isn't that a bit naive and selfish? But then again, even though things look they're going to be grim according to those in the know, the future is still a mystery. Maybe the space aliens will save us from ourselves.

At the end of my yoga session today, I worked a bit on Peacock Pose.

I'm not there yet, but it will happen. And, yes, it is as hard as it looks. It took me some time to get Side Crow down on both sides but I mastered it eventually.

There's a cool variation of Side Crow I haven't attempted yet that I want to learn. Might take a while, but that's alright. Yoga is not a race.

I'm sleepy. Might take a shower to revivify (I'm still taking cold showers, in case you were wondering). I woke up an hour before my alarm and couldn't get back to sleep. Maybe an early night.

Alright, puppies, I'm out of here.

See you on the flippety-flip!

I was born to do it, my daddy had enough, so I put my back into it

Man, I'm having trouble getting this post off the ground. For reals. All signs are pointing to me not writing tonight, but I'm sticking around despite it all. I don't know why exactly, I really don't. What that means is this could be an absolute shit post or it could be a golden dewy meadow of magic and whimsy. We'll see.

Frankly, I'm surprised I've made it this far. Maybe, like an old, pure-hearted car, I just needed to rev the gas a bit. And awayyyyy we go! (My niece Colleen made me a Christmas card that had the line "Ho Ho Ho and away we go!" drawn on the front. The card was on our fridge for a while and every time I read that line, I chuckled in a mirthful sort of way. The inside of the card features a drawing of what appears to be an overhead depiction of a plate of gingerbread cookies. Of the seven, four of the cookies look like traditional gingerbread men; the remaining three are more detailed in appearance. One looks an awful lot like Colonel Sanders, but it might be Yukon Cornelius, which is more likely. We've also got a cookie that depicts either a girl in her nightgown in a flying posture or a ghost. I'm going with ghost. And then there's hippie girl cookie. Peace sign on the t-shirt, sunglasses to hide the red, marijuana heavy, eyes. Clearly a dirty, tree-hugging, drugged out hippie. I wonder what she was getting at with those characters. I bet even she doesn't know. Just for the record, but it should be obvious, Colleen is a child).

I was going to write about being an introvert but I'm not feeling it. The impulse to quit this post is strong, but I'll continue. Why? Because it's not good to cater to our whiny, lazy aspects. Or something like that.

Anyway

I'm listening to Bach's cello suites and, consequently, my focus and drive are increasing by the word; I may just make it through this post. I started out listening to Death Grips, which was cool, but, alas, too aggro, so I made the move to Bach.

My friend Kat posted "The Top 27 Problems Only Introverts Will Understand" on her FB page. I understood just about everything on that list all too well. The comment section was like a group therapy session. It's not easy being an introvert in a society that favors extroverts. I won't go as far to say we're maligned, but we're certainly misunderstood. Ah, but it's not that bad. I love being an introvert. There, I said it.

It was a busy week. I hung out with Amanda the other night at her new house near my work. It was good getting to know her husband and little boy a bit better. We had pizza for dinner and drank wine (the best I've ever had) and maybe some puffs. Amanda and I talked about various conspiracy theories and about people from a past, some lost to us, some still around. I'm happy for Amanda. She had some lean years and now she's in a much better situation. She deserves it. And so do I, son! I gotz to get paid!

Oh, look, I'm still here. And, if you don't mind me saying, this is turning out to be a smashing post, the type that wins an award. "Don't get cocky, kid", says my inner Han Solo.

In the preface of one of his books on meditation, Chogyam Trungpa suggests not embarking on a spiritual pursuit because once you begin, you can't turn back. I think he's correct, though it may be more apt to say I intuit that he's correct because my brain can't speak to the ineffable. Whatevs, the point is I've been at this for most of my adult life and it ain't always a tip toe through the tulips, but I can never go back. When Jack Kornfield first approached the Buddhist monk, Achaan Chah, about receiving instruction, he was asked if was willing to suffer greatly. The spiritual life has thorns.

But also the rose.

Ahh, the rose.

I meditate every day, I practice yoga. I fall asleep listening to an audio book of A Course In Miracles.I find it soothing and kind of neat and weird when I wake up at three in the morning to a voice saying things like

We look past dreams today, and recognize that we need no defense because we are created unassailable, without all thought or wish or dream in which attack has any meaning.

Every day I place emphasis on the spiritual pursuit. Sometimes I feel the benefits, sometimes I don't. I try to not be results oriented, though. It ain't about that. Not at all. 

If I can find it, I plan on picking up a copy of Ron Rege's  graphic novel, The Cartoon Utopia, which has been compared to Ram Dass's Be Here Now, but is clearly it's own thing . Looks interesting.

               

Well, puppies, now you can't get rid of me. Well, sure you can. I'm out of here. I'll meditate tonight, I'll work on some music. I may watch an episode of Boardwalk Empire or listen to some Big Three. I may read from a book, I may entertain fantastical thoughts. Who knows.

Coming up: A trip to New York, Rufus Wainwright live, TuneYards live, yoga instructor certification, lots of cash money, tons of steamy love making, perhaps more.

Anyway,

Peace

What if, baby, I cannot hear the sound? What if, baby, I cannot hear the light?

I'm giving myself twenty minutes here; let's see how much I can accomplish. I'm listening to Tune-Yards's wonderful Whokills. I read a review of the album that said, among its other virtues, it demands the listener's attention. I can say from experience that this is true; I'm having trouble focusing on the task at hand. I better pull it together because I've only got about fifteen minutes to wrap this up.

Let's answer some mail from the readers.


So, what's up, bro?
- Neal, from Wichita

Not much, dude. Just chillin'

Do you still like your new yoga mat?
- Jennifer Qwalihajorosopolis

It's not that new anymore and I absolutely love it! I have zero complaints. I want to marry it. If you practice yoga, get the Manduka Black Mat Pro. Get it even if you don't - it's that good.

Six minutes left.

How many filet o' fish sandwiches can you eat in one sitting?
- Jeffy 

If I'm hungry, probably three. Thanks for asking; no one ever asks me that.

Is it true that Missy D is also known as Princess Puppy Baby?
- Jimmy the priest

Yes. It's official. It suits her.

You better sleep with one eye open, you rotten worm! I'm coming for you.
- Billy

Oh, Billy, you so cra-zay.

Alright, times up, foundlings

Bye

It scarce would find her marrow

My Internet has slowed considerably; I suspect it has something to do with my computer crashing minutes beforehand. We'll see how it goes. Things fall apart, things wither away. It happens. (Ed. note: I've come to believe the slow Internet had more to do with our wireless router, which has been having trouble holding the connection these last several days).

I've been thinking career. I work-shopped some ideas with Spira the other day and the idea of technical writing was bandied about. So was teaching yoga. Perhaps both. After our discussion, I felt a clarity of being. Believe it or not, focusing on the solution and not the problem is the way to go.

It was fucking freezing today; spring arrives on Thursday, but winter does not give a fuck. Winter is an asshole, in case you haven't heard.

Spira and I watched 12 Years A Slave the other night. Very intense and profoundly moving. Spira cried through pretty much all of it; I had my misty moments, but not nearly as many. We were about twenty minutes into it and between sobs she said she wasn't sure if she could make it through much further. Being of pure heart and noble grace, I told her it was fine with me if we stopped watching. She toughed through the rest of the film and was emotionally drained by the end. "That was too much to take!", she said.

"What were you expecting? A delightful romp through the cotton fields of the south?", I said because I am oh so hilarious.

Craig came by on Sunday and we jammed some songs in preparation for our pending jam session at his house down yonder on the Cape of Cod. Some Pink Floyd, a taste of Zeppelin. Looks like Mark, Pat, and perhaps a Toohey will be in attendance. Maybe others, we'll see. I hope we incorporate syncopated dance steps when we play.

I've been having some pretty far out experiences during meditation and during Amy Torres's webinars. My daily life has felt more or less the same as usual, but there have been a few times when I've felt warm and deeply silent in this dream we've scripted. Aware. But Maya is a seductress and I don't expect I'll be free of its illusions without some resistance.

Alright, suckas, remember to give, remember to love, and forget about grievances - they suck.

Happy trails, puppies.

I've been thinking about this Saturday night with you, I've been thinking about it all week long

Where am I?

Here.

What time is it?

Now

Something I picked up from Ram Dass. I've been repeating it like a mantra today; it has been an effective way to navigate me away from worrisome thoughts, of which there have been a plethora this week, to the present.

I also ask myself this:

What do I have to be worried about right now, this instant?

Ninety nine percent of the time the answer is "Nothing". Things like worry reside in the future, not in the present. So I try to stay present. Sometimes I'm THERE and sometimes I'm there, if ya dig. What I'm trying to say is it's easy as a mother fuck to get distracted, something you know all too well if you're a human earthling. Now where was I?

That sure was a humorous way to end a paragraph, if you don't mind me saying. I got a pleasant little chuckle out of it. Actually, more than that: I'm ROTFL like a son of a bitch! I just brought the funny in a major way. See, I wrote about being distracted and then I followed up with "Now, where was I?" Three cheers for me!

Anyway

I have watched all eight episodes of True Detective. The ending was good; I would have preferred something a little different, but the show wasn't about the ending. Why do we put so much emphasis on the ending of a thing? Like Alan Watts once pointed out, but in a slightly different context, we don't put the same emphasis on the ending of a piece of music.

No, the show was not about the ending. It was wonderful in so many ways. I feel like watching it again; the show is so layered, it encourages multiple viewings. Amanda and I have been texting about it. She had finished the show last week and until today, she held back her thoughts and feelings. Like many fans, she's re-watched some of the episodes. I'm sure the next time we hang out, we'll delve deep.

I have a new favorite sasquatch researcher. His name is Steve O'Neill. He's a Naturalist and avid outdoorsman - he knows his stuff. It shows in the videos he makes. I love watching experts at work. Recently, after finding signs here and there, he got some pretty amazing footage from a trail cam. I love his videos.

I am wholly unsatisfied with a large chunk of my life as it is currently constituted, which isn't to suggest it's not comprised of positive aspects, because it most certainly is. It's just that for too long I've let fear prevent me from making significant positive changes in my life and I've reached the point where my position has become unbearable, untenable. It's sink or swim. I've been laggard in some areas of self improvement but I've been strengthening myself, too. The spiritual path isn't nearly as gentle as you might think, but it has gifted me with tools to help me get through this life. Meditation and yoga have helped; you know this because I seem to point it out all the time. Whatever. It bears repeating.

It doesn't have to be meditation or yoga. Doing something you love can do the trick. For example, I'm about to go listen to some music for a while. I may sing along, I may just listen. Whatever happens, I'm going to enjoy it.

Last night I watched a couple of web classes given by a lovely woman named Amy Torres that covered different parts of A Course In Miracles. She has such an authentic serenity, this Anita Torres. She began each class with a breathing meditation and from that warm receptive state, I had quite the experience. It was like being naked and peaceful in bed under soft blankets.

I'll watch another video tonight, I think.

Namaste

Your boy won't be a boy no more, young but not a child

I don't care what you say, it's not all pain and misery this life. Be a fatalist, be a wet blanket, but you'll never convince me there's not joy and jubilee to be found on this planet. Just have to tune into that frequency, if you catch my drift. No, doesn't seem you do. Seems like you're thinking I'm some New Age dope, peddling dreamy utopias, but no, I assure you, it's not that way at all.

Anyway

My above hopeful outlook notwithstanding, I still have my challenges, some tolerable, some close to overwhelming, but I am wakening to the things that offer me no benefit and that is a good place to be. Consistent meditation has helped me spot patterns of behavior that have outlived their usefulness. I grow more conscious.

Anyway

So I'm watching True Detective. I'm on the fourth episode. This show, so far, is really, really good. The acting, writing, cinematography...everything is top notch. Amanda set me up with an HBO GO password which is how I'm able to watch it. That app is a fucking treasure chest! When I first heard about True Detective - I think I saw a preview on Reddit - I had an immediate affinity for it. Glad I don't have to wait for DVD.


I fade. I think I'll wrap things up before I become (more) incomprehensible. There are desires that require rumination. I'm transitioning from being the victim of fate to the architect of my life. So take that!

She's the devil in disguise, you can see it in her eyes

The weekend comes to a close, I listen to Brian Eno's Appollo, and I write. I was fairly active the last couple of days. The weather was nicer than it's been in a while and I made it a point to be outdoors as often as I could.

During the week, I was listening to a Ducan Trussell podcast in which he talked about his experience with charity. He had come across a video that shared an effective way to give to the homeless. The idea was to fill a back pack with food items and other necessities and give it to a homeless person. This could be done for under twenty dollars.

I decided I would try it out. It's one thing to talk about giving, but to actually do it is another thing. 

I woke up yesterday and walked into Davis Sq., hoping the Goodwill would have some backpacks (the video stressed it should be a used one to reduce the likelihood of it being stolen) to sell. They had a few, much to my pleasure, and for under ten smackers I bought one along with a scarf and winter cap, which I took care to make sure matched.

I walked over to the Dollar Store and and got the rest of what I needed. I bought a roll of toilet paper, a bottle of aspirin, a three pack of juice boxes, a can of beans, a can of Vienna sausages, peanut butter (the most crucial item, according to the video, because of the protein), a tuna and cracker combo pack, two bars of soap, and maybe one or two things. The video was right: the whole thing cost under twenty dollars.

I'll tell you, the experience of picking stuff out, knowing it could really help someone, felt great. On my way home, I called Spira and suggested we take Missy for a walk somewhere and on the way drop off the back pack. She suggested we go to Fresh Pond in Cambridge, which was fine with me because I knew some homeless people congregated at the Rte 2/Rte 16 junction by Alewife which is nearby.

It worked out well. At a red light, a homeless vet was holding a sign asking for money. I grabbed the back pack, got out of the car and approached him. I shook his hand and gave him the back pack, telling him I hoped it would help. He thanked me and I got back into the car. The light was still red so we got to see him peek into the bag. The smile that appeared on his face was amazing. I was so moved I teared up. As we drove by him, he waved to us, still smiling.

I plan on doing this once a month. Maybe I'll have other people join me. It felt so good doing this and it was so easy. The ego, of course, interpreted the experience it's own way, which is pretty much this: "I am such a good person, everyone should know this!". I acknowledge its presence, it's all I can do. Greater than the ego's interpretation was the feeling of right action, of being truly alive, of giving. What a feeling!
--

Fresh Pond was heavy with people and dogs. We met a chihuaha named Gigolo that was bundled up in a blanket in a stroller. He was a cool dude. He got out and hung out with us for a spell. Gigolo's owner, an older woman, told us about the dog brothels in Denmark that she read about on Facebook. This was followed by several minutes of apologizing for bringing the subject up. It wasn't a big deal but it did put an image in our minds that wasn't exactly favorable.

After our walk,we went to this cool Turkish joint called Sofra for lunch. Great atmosphere, great food. I got a sausage, orange, olive wrap that was pretty tasty. We had a chocolate cookie for dessert that was so moist and fluffy, I almost passed out eating it.

Today I practiced yoga and went into Porter Sq for groceries. I walked over to Cambridge Naturals after the grocery store and talked with the pretty cashier about some of the nice houses in Cambridge. Sometimes I assume strangers don't get a good first impression of me; today with the cashier was no different. But guess what? She chatted me up. If we had a few more minutes together, who knows. It wasn't a good time for conversations, though, with customers waiting to make their purchases and all.

Back at  home, Spira called. She needed me to pick her up from an auto body shop near Watertown (after dropping me off yesterday, her car started having trouble accelerating). I drove her home and went inside for a bit to to say hello to Missy D, or Princess Baby Girl, as I've been been calling her lately.

Amanda called me late this afternoon asking if wanted to see American Hustle with her in Woburn. It didn't work out but we'll get together this week hopefully. 

Ok, time to go. I might watch the rest of Silence of The Lambs, something I started late last night, or I might  do other stuff. Who knows.

Buh bye

So you thought you might like to go to the show

Another cold heartless day, but winter is running out of breath. I saw a robin the other day; that has to account for something. That's right, winter, you asshole, you prick - your days are numbered.

Saw St. Vincent last week. Janelle had gotten me a ticket as a Christmas present and what a present it proved to be. The show was at the House of Blues and, not long after our arrival, Janelle and I ran into Spira and Ali at the bar. We knew they'd be there but weren't sure we'd run into them among the 2,000 people in attendance. Nice running into them and even nicer when we found out we were all sitting together. The odds were slim that would happen. Cool when odds are defied in a harmonious way.

The show was pretty amazing. Annie Clark has really come into her own as a performer. She maintained a post-post modern Ziggy Stardust meets Geisha meets Cyborg meets Bride of Frankenstein persona. Immediately after the show, I was asked what I thought of the show and  I wasn't exactly sure. I was still processing it. I knew I was impressed but I couldn't yet articulate why.

I'm better equipped to now, but I'll refrain because it might take a while. I'll sum it up by saying it was incredible, one of the best shows I've seen in a long time. The sound was phenomenal and the audience was attentive.

St Vincent, son.

Like many other I people, I've found myself hooked on House of Cards. I house sat for Spira this past weekend and I binge watched the fuck out of the show. It's really good but it leaves you feeling a bit oily. Lots of heartless characters in that world.

I'm listening to St. Vincent's Strange Mercy. It's so effin good! Annie Clark, you are the belle of the all.

And so are you, dear readers. Off to watch some House of Cards. Time to relax a bit after a rather intense session of yoga.

Ciao!