blogtrot

So, I stopped in and didn't write anything. Then I proceeded to explore via the next blog button at the top of the page. It is always different, today was incredibly full of food stuff with a strong representation from the veggie/vegan zone. After you have stopped by to see if I have expressed any updates why not do the same. Take a little blogtrot around the sphere. Enjoy.

holiday note

It is in the very midst of the holiday season, I am in Florida where the Currier & Ives mental picture embedded in my formative years simply does not apply. No festive feelings have I been incubating, mostly a wonderment and hopeful mind prep for the next calendar year. I hope that it blossoms into something wonderful.

back

yup, I'm back. I can't believe that I have allowed this zone to lay fallow for over a month. But truth is. I'm still not ready to splatter the post with my current state of affairs. Perhaps next year from a new location, after the dust settles. Not much in the mood for stories either, so, I just wanted to stop by and say that I'm still here and there is still plenty to write about. Please stay tuned.

full moon

Seems like the full moon is causing dysfunction with my pcs as all kinds of little issues have been plaguing them.
So? What are you doing?
Well I'm blogging, what the hell does it look like.
and you have something that will add to the wisdom of the ages, perhaps?
Of course, but that doesn't mean I am going to place it here where just anyone can stumble across it.
Why not?
Now, that is a question worth pondering and that is just what I shall do. Now.

halloween

Happy Halloween; I guess. The day is here, the clocks haven't fell back yet, there are no denizens carousing in this hood. There is a spate of entertainment in the form of 'Horror movies' on the tube. A few good oldies that I have enjoyed today.
So a new year for some, a portal possible for others, Scorpio and all souls and the seasons roll.

note

Way too lax on my entries. Been some caught up in transitional strategizing with a resistance to let slip some verbal tripwires. You never know who's reading.

weekend

Friday, the herald of the weekend and I am skipping the Friday night (why isn't that Frinight?) poker game, as I have stuff to do particularly Saturday morning. I plan to get some progress on the collages as well, but, the primary concern is getting my djembe to the drum doctor. Time for goat sacrifices to earn a place in the vibratory annals. Obviously my drumming has been slack as I haven't had to rehead in over three years.

collage

Phase the next on the collage. Still experiencing a challenge with the lay down. I will investigate other materials for future pieces. The biggest question is will I get these done in time to send for Christmas.

collage

So today I started placing the background of the first collage onto the prepared surface. It wrinkled more than I was looking for. I did expect some as I was laying down some fairly large sheets for this kind of application. So I am debating whether to sand the surface after layering more poly or not. While this decision percolates I will continue to search for some imagery; but I think that the lettering option of the original plan has evaporated. More words along with more progress.

kernels

Tossing out some few pieces of language to see if they fall into a cadence and conveyance of distilled thought. Mayhap they only indicate the futile existential quandary; or swept up in the torrent of emotion they are presenting the realization of uncertainty that has become a stronger representation of the future. If I could once again reach into the bag of tricks and have at my disposal a more formidable, clearer and responsive mastery over the time-space continuum; or that beautiful trust that the tarot fool embodies, then my mood would lift and I could share what comes next. I invite at the least if not invoke that stellar certainty.

just a note

Just a few words to indicate my realization that I have been lax in my blogging.

another soul released from gravity

Shortly after my last post about a friend's passing; I was again notified of another old friend's father taking a similar journey. I have some fine reflections of Dale. Wiley my friend this was altogether too strong of a reason to make it possible to reconnect, but, I will take the opportunity. Peace to all connected and happy trails Dale.

dream

So, not a typical dreamscape, but a familiar one. Tripping through geometric fractal mosaics. I wonder how much alignment and absorption my 12 strand multidimensional DNA realized. Hmm.

perception perameters

Alliterative intro was a sad little weakness of this word-loving mind. There is a pattern that emerges from the chaos of thought. When the thought emerges into the lens of awareness it is in a multi-dimensional configuration and requires some structural matrix to begin to abstract and hopefully deliver a rendering that the language can deliver into a sharable mode.

My thoughtform du jour has to do with the incredible limitations of human perception and how one can describe what generally lies beyond the wavelenghts from ultra low frequency (more felt than heard) to the higher visible spectrum. Sure we use radio waves and we can witness the wave motion of physicality in the surface of water; but what of the colors that are seen only with the inner vision. What of the communion with vibratory information that resides in what many religions would describe as celestial, angelic, heavenly?

Some tesseracts of multiple information drop into consciousness and bring light from other simultaneous space-time frames that one has also been, is, will be personal. Re-member or create, is there a difference when we have stepped out of the narrow confines of linear time?

tugged at

Yep, have that feeling that I'm being tugged at on a line from infinity. Not actually resisting but, feeling less than desirous of going along right now. After all of the preparatory work of many years, to set in motion the ease of dimensional shifting, I have to wonder at my reticence. Perhaps tonight the dreaming self will have an encounter of magnitude.

sad note

Today I received the sad news of the passing of a friend's mom. I was close to her as well as the entire family. Lucky for me I was able to have been by for one of those rare visits very recently as I live over 1,000 miles away.
My heart goes out to all and I can now picture Win reinvigorated and shining in her statuesque and graceful self. Thanks for sharing the planet with us. We love you.

where've i been

So, what the hell, I haven't been writing for a while. I've opened up the blog and failed to post a couple of times in the past week. Seems that when I've been about to the flow was too strong and I'd have been up too late to fit my scheduled pattern. I owe a few e-mails and maybe I'm copping out by thinking that a collective entry will suffice. It will not. Perhaps I will return to the e-mail page and let this drift into silence. It feels like this minor entry will serve as catharsis.

savannah's

I expect this to need fleshing out after this wee entry.
So I ask my brother J. where Savanna's is, Alabama or Mississippi? Without hesitation he says Alabama, which by the way is what I think.

Days later he is relating some of the story connected and says "where was that? Alabama or Mississippi?" as if we didn't just go through that. I guess being a DiCara and past 60 merits some allowances.

Savanna was a rotund black Southern woman with a small eatery a 1/4 mile from a ferry landing on the East side of a river. Not much else nearby. A large open dinning area where you could see what was going on in the kitchen area; a jukebox and a 9 year old daughter helping out. No menu, just whatever was being cooked that day, all you wanted for a reasonable if not cheap price. Catfish, fried yardbird or pork chops, a mess of greens, black-eyed peas, hush puppies etc. good eats. Since when we descend on the place the food demand goes up pretty severely we would spend a pretty long time before completing dinner.

Like any band of misfits who are used to working and playing hard we took full advantage of the jukebox and consumed mass quantities. There was one visit where you could hear the young miss say "Mama, is all white folks that crazy?" I sure don't remember what Savannah answered, I think it was a laugh and a shushhh maybe accompanied by a little swat. But I'm sure she probably answered differently after we left. She sure treated us well and we tried to do the same. I sure could go for some sweet potato pie right now.

more notes after vacation

I had a few more little issues with my travel, like a broken jar of honey in my luggage. But I also got a few more hoedad stories with J.. I miss the whole social dynamic of being in the bosom, if it weren't for the wintertime I would move back. It was not easy to see the declining parental units as the toll gate of time charges another bit of life.

First day back in the mines was not too bad, but, the uncertainty continuum takes the opacity out of the pathway. Certitude has little place and my grip has a tenuous purchase.

home again, home again

There was a bad looking two-car accident on I-4 to welcome me home. It made the return at least 45 min. longer than usual. Fire engines, Fire Rescue, Sheriff's, State Police and a helicopter landing in the road. I've got to wonder about my trips home.

The trip itself was good although it began a little rough. When we got to the airport my Explorer wouldn't shift into gear. So, I leave my bag unattended in the queue and run outside after getting a call on my cell informing me of this. I was freakin' a bit as it took me a few minutes of abusing the shift lever to finally get it to function. When I got back to the line I was kinda expecting someone to be upset about the bag, but it didn't seem to have made a visible impact.
After getting picked up in CT and back to J&D's we had a great dinner and visit. The next AM more Explorer issues, this time with the spare surveyor one. Not 10 minutes after heading out with the casino as destination the brakes stop working. The casino would wait one more day.

more to come...

note from the road

Still in CT on vacation. Had a wonderful gathering at L&M's Sat. yes, my birthday. I will write more after returning to FL.

response

As I have wont to; I page forward in the blogosphere after I check in on my own page. There are many foreign language pages that I can't decipher, there are some homey things, some pretty commercial entries and occasionally something to peak my interest. I will read some little family oriented things followed by an artistic thread. After reading a poetry blog by some dude in his early forties, I had to wonder if my lines were as hard to read as his. I know that occasionally I will flex my vocabulary for the sake of it, other times I am in such a rush in my mind and my keying is a bit weak, leading to a somewhat truncated or disjointed entry. One line that sparked my decision to "respond" was 'deny absurdity'; I so protest. Is not Chuang Tzu the author of "Genius of the Absurd"? Well of course he is; and what a freaking incredible read it is; or so my memory tells me. It has been well past 25 years since I have read it. Defend the absurd is the motto I state here. Perhaps I will elaborate if prompted.

vacation

It's Saturday, the first day of my longest vacation in over ten years. So much to do before heading North; I am glad that I decided to fly but the relaxation part of this deal hasn't kicked in yet. Looking forward to seeing everyone and hope that I don't miss any hurricanes. I don't have a laptop to lay any thoughts down, but, given my plans I may take the opportunity while at a sibling's.

collage

Been getting some material together for the collage I am in the planning stage for for Danny. So many other collage ides rage through the process. I hope that I will some day get off my ass and begin the "Fisher of Men" an image that's been generating and re-presenting for a very long time. My timetable for Danny's Dragon is to take it from the prep state into application shortly after my return from vacation.

song

Songlines tripping through mindscapes waves upon waves standing oscillating moving multiple trajectories. Sourced from dimensions beyond cutting into bellcurve access, orca, insect, human. How kin the math.

was

Used to be a funky junkie, learned something new in wabi sabi land, rhymes and retribution; alliteration can be a dull deal or punish me with puns.

Not verse but labeled. Taglined put up and sent on it's little errand. Delivery immanent. Destination unknown.

What change the universe from the butterfly wings flapping away here?

ramble

Saturday, feels like Sunday, I am so glad that it's not. I miss the days when my life had a different flow and the day of the week were not something that I payed much attention to. After ten years of living for the weekend the structural containment often seems oppressive. My relationship with time has somehow become more mundane, more tuned to the mass consciousness. Sure there are pockets of fluidity and the sweet Aboriginal thing as well as Dr. Who and the time-lord abilities. It pleasing to know that divergence keeps some options open. Perhaps I will find one of those portals or reconnect with my higher abilities. Exit stage left.

mortality

That whole question of life and death seems tied to me like a big box kite in a continuous breeze. My dear friend and brother Aquataine has recently been diagnosed with cancer and proclamations of old Mr. Death visiting in the relatively near future have tied that kite string to my awareness with a strong cord. I let my feelings, memories and knowledge of my understanding of A. surface and recede like the tide of my awareness. There is a swing between my selfishness and compassion. Us humans tend to do this as it would be difficult to not take changes, particularly unwelcomed ones, to a close tie personally.

Bottom line; I love you.

reality

The inevitable themes of space, time, space-time and reality reshape themselves forever in my musings. Perhaps a star-burst apocalyptic sensory transition to witness directly the layers of being where the Dorian Grey painting of each thought and feeling glares would finally bring home the concept of sin. There would always be some negatively charged impulse to see what debauch, turmoil and meanness would look like on the part of some manifest being. It's disturbing at least that the incredible ability to stretch realities' expression goes in infinite directions.

Why is it I am recalling a conversation with Silver Fox, some years hence, around the cool deck at Juliette's in Atlantic Beach? We were rapping and delving and construing on subjects primarily gravitating in the metaphysic, when the vibrational frequencies and efforts involved in trying to reach ascendancy focused the discussion. He hits me with a "do you really think that higher vibrations are better than lower?" as if I was judging right and wrong here. I actually felt mildly assaulted by the delivery of that intentionally accusatory question. It was great in that it stuck with me and I thank ols SF for the gift. Sure I went into a bit of defensive posture for a few minutes, supporting the validity of all aspects of life, but simultaneously proclaiming a personal decision to accelerate and refine frequencies that I was able to influence. It's a normal spiral path of ascendancy/descendancy that plugs us into and out of the visible dimensional experience with the apex and nadir stretched beyond conception.

verse

I wonder if I can bring back to mind some of the free verse that used to grace the envelope reverse of my snail mail correspondences back in my vagabond days before the pc when my cacography was a bit tamer. I still had GH occasionally interpret my scratches for me. A hell of a thing to not even be able to read one's own writing. My sister's calligraphic nuances impressed me no end until I discovered that she would write her missive over before posting. It was still a very lovely display of script with a good payload of essence.

fire rekindled

So, I was for some reason thinking about fire on my drive home yesterday (actually last Thursday) I tossed a very small unformed set of words indicating that I had thoughts on this theme into my blog, feeling a certain lack of fulfillment. Today (Friday) the theme seemed to resurge while listening to the compilation I put together for LM alias Von.
Well yeah I'm a Leo, born in the Sun ruled fixed fire sign and I have been around many a campfire. One of the more memorable from hoedad days was when we set somewhere in the vicinity of 50 cords of timber left on a planting site. That baby lasted long enough to still cook dinner over more than 48 hours later.
I also was displaced by a house over-warming of great magnitude. I will probably get back to that as the weekend from hell or stop asking me what's new.

sunday retro

This being Sunday and being a bit unhappy with the fact that I can't seem to find a way to paste in some little bits of word flow, perhaps tributaries that were set a few days ago, I shall introduce them in reverse time sequence. Therefor retro rather than intro.

fire

Fire, what an element.
Flammable/inflammable interesting that.
A touch of the old Crazy World of Aurthur Brown and a long parade of musical, poetic tributes. Arson, spontaneous combustion. It's just amazing.
I've had my little relationship with it, some incredibly positive and some so not.
Weirdly enough there are too many stories, memories and snippets that I feel presently inadequate to proceed into story-telling mode. So I will leave this theme and know that I've fed a salamander somewhere. Blaze on.

tv shows

Cable TV with a lot of channels excluding the extra packages and I can't find anything to watch. So, I was thinking of some of my old favorites and a few of them were extremely short lived.

• VR5 - I can't even find a remnant or DVD much less rerun
• Max Headroom
• Kung Fu
• Firefly - was glad to see this on the rerun circuit for a brief run; I've got the DVDs anyway
• Sea Quest
• Space Precinct - not much of a show but I'd like to see one anyway; Barney Miller in space

I guess this shows some of my tastes. I'm pretty sure that I also like a few mainstream shows too.

• X-files
• some of the Brit-coms particularly Faulty Towers

I could even go for some old Westerns

• Rawhide
• Maverick

I think I'll hit Netflix instant and catch an original Dr. Who. Nope i'm gonna catch an episode of Earth2

Happy viewing to you.

nothing to say

What a great old Jethro Tull tune.
I'm just taking one of those quick breaks in my Sunday to sip coffee, catch up on some on-line activities, test some tunes on a compilation disc, smoke a cig. and enact an entry to facilitate rhythmic activity, still awaiting the cascade effect to fall out of this glaciated pace.
OK back to Mundania.

decadence a way of life

So the season is winding down in Florida and I spent some days in Gainesville where I ate some Skeeters Big Biscuits and picked up a T-shirt; purple with the slogan "DECADENCE A WAY OF LIFE" emblazoned across the chest. Later that summer I went dancing in a club in Portland Maine with G. and the bouncers were bidding on my T.. Needless to say I did not part with it even when the bid hit $40. (this was back around 1980, I had paid $6 for it)
Back on the row, the following season, in the hinterlands of Alabama where the famous white breakfast is the extent of morning choices in the local eateries. White toast, eggs over, grits and biscuits with white gravy. I caved due to my pangs and was in consumption mode when a heavily accented voice was persistently asking for some attention. In an accent you could cut with a chainsaw I hear, hey was' tha' theer Dee-Kay-Dense some kinda cult? So in my most accommodating sonorous voice I replied that no it was not a cult; but that it is a sect of Zoroastrianism. The conversation terminated.

sunday

Sunday evening winding down folding in pushing thoughts of another Monday away and digesting a sumptuous meal. Pondering how bare my soul or what purpose this blog. Looking forward to a gathering next month in the Northlands.

what i'm reading

• Setting Free the Bears - John Irving - 1968; yes I have read this before
• Yon Ill Wind - Piers Anthony - Xanth - 1996; goofy-pun filled have not read this one but have read a few other Xanth entries - will finish today
• The Divine Matrix - Gregg Braden - 2007; picking up where I left off a few months ago
• Einstein - Walter Issacson - 2007: also picking up where I left off
• Norse Code - Greg van Eekhout - 2009; finished, good read
• Zoe's Tale - John Scalzi - 2008; finished also a good read

crew list

Some of the Hoedad crew I worked with in the three years on the row.
I planted a million trees in AL, AK, TX, GA, LA, MS, & FL

• Z - Waco TX. ex-con with his (cha who-a who-a) killer
• JD my older brother (1st year & we shared the original trailer, it was way f**king small)
• the Tough Tomatoes - three ex-military lesbians (one did some chiropractic)
• Juicy and Busey - I can't remember her name but she was the hottest chick on the row, he was also called OD
• Bruce and Mother Superior - crew chief 1st year
• Big Mike - overboss 1st year, Napoleon complex
• Kevin and ? - I want to call her Denise but that's wrong
• Captain Quaalude
• the Banker
• the Dells - Smiling Js - Jim Judy John Joan - never cracked a smile but they did have some pickled weasel saddles in their larder
• the Bookends or Books for short and they brought a Short Story - D9 with them the next season
• Linda Lou
• Gravy, and Kat came along the 3rd season
• Charlie and Sue - crew boss 2nd and 3rd season
• M-
• Farm Boy - a refugee from "The Farm"
• Crimson White Feather
• ?????? the crew changed and there were a lot of others I can't remember names of (hey this was over 25 years ago)

songs

I enjoyed the post string on FOI (Fish on Ice) that And y had started and probably had more posts than the rest put together. It was called play this song when I die, or at my funeral, or after I'm dead.... well you get the idea. If I knew how to make this blog dance I would slip in one of these and add to it as the whim takes me. I don't know how to do that yet. So I guess I'll just slap in an occasional list and see what I can learn along the way.

So how long do you think a memorial celebration would take? Should I make a sound track? Hmmm, but could I limit it to under 1,000 tunes?

just words

Just words sequenced by their own will unedited and unimpeded. Where will they take us? Back a week memory-wise (is there a single word to encompass this ?) "Saturday in the park, I think it was the fourth of July" by Chicago and I didn't even play it then. Now works.

What if they take us forward? There seems to be more daunt in this than a simple remembering and since all time is simultaneous why have we made that so? The curious case of Benjamin Button may have lingered in the brain pan and helped to stimulate this train. Casey Jones did not have anything to do with it I promise.

Tendencies are to either go far into the future and lay down some wannas bwanna and hope to fake it till you make it, co-create, visualize into being with maybe a side order of chant-o-matics; or of course to creep forward into the morrow since it has a certain predictability based on lists written or unwritten.

Tomorrow I can see me cleaning house prepping some groceries and screwing around on the computer. That was easy. Since I worked today the regular weekend needs to be done gets compressed.

Farther and further into the future distant way out west towards the end of my physical days; wheezing a bit with the effort required to upright after a fitful sleep wishing that coffee was already brewed and accepting that this is a good day to die. Thinking that an old fashioned pyre with feathers and prayer-ties would be appropriate and knowing that interference would ensue. No rush all of the time in the world and then some; OK so maybe a lawn chair is a bit tacky but it's comfortable enough to dismiss the body and engage the spirit. So long and thanks for all the fish.

some authors SF/F

• Charles De Lint
• Philip K. Dick
• Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
• Tad Williams
• Terry Pratchet
• ...

stay tuned

I recon I will shortly add some lists. Maybe like Blogs I read, authors, music-that is almost daunting, I think my favorite song is Summertime, but by who? and I encourage all of you who are willing to stretch their audial input to look into Joiking. Pronounced like it begins with a Y.

I was tickled when I found out that Micky Hart also was enthralled by a specific record, vinyl, when he was a kid. I didn't know that there were really any more copies being listened to besides the one I owned. The music of the rain forest pygmies. Reference the early part of his book Song Catchers.

I had some nice verbal trajectory brewing while I was at work but I can't see to retrieve it.

hollywood

So, Hollywood, that's what they called me. At least towards the end of season two and thereafter. It was May and we moved from the Mobile area down into the peninsula in the area of Cross City. The weather was hot for the intensely physical demands of hoeing the row. Gravy and I in usual fashion would hit the row early and hard, slam in a bag, approximately 1000-1500 loblollys. While the rest of the crew was still afield we figured it was too f***ing hot to go back out while the sun was directly overhead. So like any adventurous wild men we decided we'd hit town for a while. Town was a pretty small affair with little to offer, but there was a bar, with a drive through window, a guy on a horse rode up and got a six-pack while we were there, pool tables and simple fare. We had lunch more than a few beers and shot a few games. Around 3 PM we figured we should head back to get another bagful in the ground. Charlie saw our sorry state and wouldn't let us back on the row so I went back to town to prowl around the thrift stores to find some row threads. Our crew had developed an interesting habit of dressing up or down or maybe sideways for the row. This helped to lighten things up and infuse a bit of humor to the hard work and long days. I found a bright yellow shirt with quarter sized blue polka dots and a pair of red white and blue skiers sunglasses. Deciding a little more overhaul was in order I stepped into the back of my home on wheels and shaved off a six months beard exposing some very white flesh comparing to the tan the rest of my skin sported. Getting back to the site decked out and feeling pretty good, I emerged from my vehicle in stealth circumnavigated a few other interesting rolling dwellings and was greeted by Johnny Z's loud exclamation "who's that Hollywood dude?" and there you have it and so did I.

wishin' stick

So, back to the story. It's not a big one but it has stuck in my mind all of these years like a possum in a croquet wicket.
One of the bookends, the shorter rounder one, I surely cannot remember his name, about 6'3.5" weighing in @ 18 stone, was around the nightly white man's fire with 6 or 7 others. Buzzes were aplenty, also as usual, and some music played. Guitar, some eefing or body percussion, bamboo shakahatchi and voices. Things were winding down to a mellowness when our book took center. He started dancing around the fire like a wounded bear, thumping , staggering with a little grace thrown in; when he decided that he needed a partner. I guess he hadn't gotten laid in a while. Seeing that the only women in attendance were either clearly gay or obviously involved he decided on some firey branched stick almost as tall as himself that was, yes, in the fire. I thought that he was going to cath afire himself as he began singing loudly "Oh wishing stick, wishing stick, my stick, my wish, my wishin' stick....." and began the rythmic horizontal dance of a madman. The show lasted for 15 or 20 minutes. Of course we applauded and helped to create the soundscape, having a merry time watching as he moved a little more beyond the norm, ironically joining with the majority of his fellow hoedadders.

just a note

So it's the day before the US celebrates Independence, gotta wonder at the reality of this country and it's people. But, instead of going off on a political tirade I am simply going to cop to my laziness. I am not proud to admit how sedentary I have become in the physical. My synapses though continue to fire with great speed and in a combination of worn and pioneering pathways. Hopefully I will come back here sometime this weekend and see what verbal stream flows as my previous jots have pointed to, there are a few themes that I fully intend to expand and/or elaborate on.

wishin' stick intro

It's time to get a little old story out. Or maybe just introduce it as I believe I shall retire for the evening soon due to the old paycheck generator.
This is going back to the hoedad days, there have been some new rings in the cedar, I can tell you.
Bookends, yep background here, two large clean cut firemen/boy scouts from? Illinois I belive.
Big fifth wheel rig in the midst of a band of misfits, dope growers, ex-cons, back to the landers, military lesbians, a "the Farm" refugee and assorted other counter culture types. Most with primative versions of 70's and earlier RVs, including tow alongs, pop-ups, truck bedded units, my own was home-made, a school bus and a tenter or two in the mix.

For crying out loud, I was even locked in my own rig with my own lock with Gravy's wife as I was trying to convince her to leave, by Gravy his own self. It sure screwed up my plans for the next assignment as I had volunteered to go to one of the LA. parishes in the Lake Charles area with "the banker" early the next morning and I was going to try to convince M... to come along. Probably had an 80->90% chance before this incarceration came down.

There are some good stories from these dog-earred pages of my life. Stay tuned...

mellon collie

Melancholy, perhaps, triggered to research by a message from a friend. Have you ever noticed the synaptic/emotional response to certain gravid words innocently uttered in a gentle context? The specifics generally weigh in on some incredibly personal scale which has more kinship to the uncertainty priciple than to stasis, unless your pattern changing is glacial.

just 'cause

I don't have anything realy on my mind, just thought that I'd jot a line or two to create a pattern and help me to consider the personal value equation of externalizing in script mode. Seems that any expression delivered helps to feed the cascade effect. When the inevitable release happens I hope that it is in an intelligible mode and that I am able to simply channel it and not cramp up with little internal searches for words that carry.
Feel free to comment if you have stopped by to see what little is here and stop back again as I will make an effort to post a minimum of once a week.

CTB

Cosmic Tool Box
I will cycle back to this theme from time to time.
I had in mind a book with some thoughts towards a supporting fulfillment site. The origin of the phrase was either from Eesha, John or myself, it gets hazy since it was coined many years ago. John still uses variations, primarily the cosmic grab bag as a focal theme for a metaphysical event. I am more drawn to the work inferences of the Tool Box. Admittedly my mugglish infused lifestyle is more removed from the work than it was when the theme played stronger within me. None the less I still feel that this could produce some useful information and tools for the aspiring open minded soul. Some topics include the judgement and/or valuation of tools for the individual. These could include Astrology, meditation, Tarot, pendulums, T'ai Chi, diet, vision quests, journaling... Some historic versions of personal CTBs would be altars, medicine bags, shrines, most any personal, intentional sanctified space and the contents therein.

It's kinda funny that one of the blogs I read often on my lunch 1/2 hour is from a hard core skeptic who boohoos much of this. ala Sienfeld "it doesn't make him a bad person."

about the name of this blog

So does this mean I am calm or trying to engender calm through cartharsis? Not really, but that would be a nice result.
The CALM is from a thoughtform I have that would enjoy manifestaion as a brick and mortar bookshop one day. I feel farther from it than I would have predicted but the CALM stands for Coffee Art Literature Music. There is still time and stranger things have come to pass.

3rd

Still under the weather, was staying away from this site thinking that I was wanting to use it only for a working on the linguistic anvil approach to expression. What the hell, I am just going to slam out a few lines whenever and if the literate muse inspires all the better.

I was somewhat dazed by the demise of David Carradine, more surprised than the passing of some of the other memorable notables in the past. Although Yma Sumac and Kurt Vonnegut along with Odetta all twanged some chords. I don't have the DVD collection of Kung Fu or I would be spending some time this weekend watching it. They did play some episodes on one of the more obscure cable channels last year and I caught a few of them noticing that they hold up pretty well after so many years.

2nd

Another time, this now, animation and creation, a string of verbal expression, trajectory unknown. The easy sloshing of the waves within, imbuing memories and genesis. What necklaces of beauty or what garotes may emerge to truncate thoughtforms and spin off as small seeds into other realms? Old friends connecting again with the assistance of technology. How do these methods impact the inherant abilities? Do awareness abilities continue to regenerate and strengthen or does the available information allow for a lazy approach? Perhaps both depending on agreements made prior to the present dimensional experience, with free will adjustments. Expanding the envelope in multiple directions. My persoanl bias has lost it's sharpness of radical edge and I enjoy a more vicarious and supporting role to these tweaks and nudges to the present consensus. Some say that the expanding universe is continual from the big bang to infinity, others that there is a very very long but ongoing process of expansion and contraction akin to breathing. This latter has merits that fall into my acceptance, although I tend to be promotional of expanding experience, exploration and comprehension.

First Entry

My first entry

Artist creature that I am felt compelled to start this blog.
You who find this page are welcome to relate.

Coming home from work last week I tried to put my thoughtstream onto the screen at facebook & to my dismay found that there is a word limit to each entry and instead of searializing, only intro-ed the piece.

The theme "Head Cold War"

...So I have a pretty short trip home from work and my gear shifting phase changing process often involves a new creation or a contemplative synaptic dance and occasionally a venting. Today I did a take on the phrase "Head-Cold-War" can you imagine? It's like you send in a team of surveyors to see what's up with the slow energy drain, & find that there are a few balance of power games happening...

Yes, in your head, the action-reaction dichotomy escalates and the power struggle builds like some folish nations playing "I can blow up the whole fuckin' world 15 times over, and you can only do it 11, hah." Surely most of you can either remember that silly fuckin' game, or have had it in history class, oh, what's that it is still being played? I reckon so.

So, taking the internal factions and easing towards a personal peace is the worthy path. Who knows, it may actually radiate something wonderful into the mass conciousness.