Alive and, well…

Hello World. Hello to all my fans, as Little Meow Meow would say (a fictional character on a poster I once created—see my Flickr photos). Hello to everyone. The stream of incense is on strong in the room with lights down low and I thought I’d reconnect with ya’ll once more. God only knows how much more is possible. By Tuesday, for example, I could be a dead man. And dead men don’t have Live Journal connections that I’m aware of. So a live journaler transmits another broadcast.

And that is to say, things are semi-well in the current moment. Beautiful Billy Holiday tunes in the background, both cats asleep, some books, some thoughts, ideas. You know, Fridays and Saturdays are for people going out and staying out. I go out and am somehow reeled back in, and it’s quiet once I get back. Quite quiet.

My inner motivational speaker wants to tell me to make use of all moments. Another thing, switch up your pace. Don’t always go at 90 mph. Sometimes you have to slow way down, slow down to the point where it appears you’re not moving at all. Take time to go within, he says. When you feel like throwing a knife at someone, turn it back around on yourself. Rip into yourself before you rip into them. This means, analyze your intentions, analyze the potential of your actions and retract them at times. You know how they say, “He wears his heart on his sleeve”? Don’t be that guy. You don’t have to rip all your guts out, rip out all your anger, put it all on your outsides and run around into people, force them to deal with it.

Wow, your motivational speaker is kinda insane.

Yeah, he’s a real hack. That’s what’s so good about him. He lives in a cave.

Hello out there to anyone picking up this signal.

we need
pushing along
inspiration
at times
we need
to spend
time alone
we need to
clean our areas up
create sanctuaries
become
autonomous
learn like
crazy
love one another

fly up
over the house
and perch
on the
telephone wires

When I was downtown, it was crowded and busy. By the time I got to the stage, it was too late to sign up to read poetry. Better to go home and rest up there. I had parked all the way back at the library. Walking through the park a little bit nervous in the dark like that, but all these trees were lit up along the path, and I made it to the car safe. I’ve learned that no matter what city you’re in, even small towns, you do not underestimate night. Day is hard enough, but night, trouble tends to come out at night.

Noting the reactionary: I believe, as the reactionary is one of revolt, protest, etc., there should be other times when he (or she) must be at peace with living in quiet moments, too. He should be—I dare say—spiritual, self actualized, in tune with several different realities (not living in a bubble). Downtown, I see all sorts of kids. Many of them are full of energy, misplaced energy. In my thoughts I’m telling them to gear up, spot your target, and fire away. If only when I was a young vandal I chose more worthy targets, I’d be a better man today. But they spend their time all drunk, pummeling each other, jumping in front of cars.

Had dinner the other night with my new friends Derek and Dana. Dana, it turns out, knows my old friend from Woodbridge, Chris Jordan. Funny how all that works out. Chris is a cool kid, and I miss him. Dinner would have went well if it weren’t for that pesky giant Portabello mushroom lying within my vegeburger. Still, it was fun. They’re some of the most sane people I’ve talked with in quite awhile.

Billy Holiday
singing
through rain or shine
and
Strange Fruit
bodies burnin’…

I wonder if there are effects to chanting whatever word. You choose your own mantra and take off with it. The beautiful thing I find is, I like to pace back and forth through the rooms on a quiet afternoon, repeating the mantra lightly to myself, pushing it out just a bit into the apartment, somehow feeling pious, studious, from the action. Is this needed? Removed from KC itself, I still feel the need to express this form of yoga for some reason. A friend wrote to me that I was a devotee of life. I really appreciated his insights. It wasn’t coming from this dogmatic tape recording or recruitment type of mentality.

Once when I left the temple, a devotee called me at home and said, “I was wondering if we could work up some kind of schedule for you, you know, so you can start coming back and serving more gradually.” I was turned off by the idea and wanted to be left alone. No thank you, I think I said. I’m comfortable. “Oh, you’re comfortable. You’re comfortable…” That was considered a big offense, presumably.

Yes, I’m comfortable.

Today I went to the homeless shelter where they’re also offering to help low income folk like myself with their pricey prescriptions. This woman came out and introduced herself to us in the waiting room. “Oh, and if you have any cell phones, you better hide them. If I even see that you have a cell phone, I’m instructed to have you leave. It’s considered a luxury.” Well, goddamn. One lady got up, walked out. I thought she was fed up, but she came back. Probably just chucked her cell inside her car. Are cars considered luxuries?

“I came on foot,” I should’ve said. “And it’s a bad foot, at that. I’m not even here about my foot, though. It’s my lungs, you see, they’re fucked up. Oh, um, pardon my language. Happy holidays and what not. Is that better?”

we make
it through
the years on
good advice
food and
shelter
the welfare
of others
sound
judgment
music
love
and
luck

I’m chugging along, chanting in patterns, creating my own patterns, heeding some advice here and there, interjecting my little entries, blog specks. It’s all I know to do, for now.

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