We saw the telethon tonight. It wasn't the musical telethon, it was your typical disaster relief telethon designed to move a nation into the more charming idea the corral will soon be undergoing dramatic improvements and you'd better stick around because the lead vocalist is making a comeback like no other. The firekeeper actually posted on his favorite site he would not be watching, be forewarned, he doesn't mince words:
I looked up from reading blogs and saw suits crowding the TV screen. Hardcore, aged, scowling secret service in the Gallery weaving through the throngs of our celebrity leadership. Did Pelosi get a lip job recently? Ah, the ever present pop beads. She could open a tourist boutique in Ghiardelli Square with her inventory. Manolo Blahniks and pop beads. Maybe the Vulcan-vixen could do a consignment deal with her on thigh highs?
I have a sort of standing fantasy and I realize it is a fantasy. It is a deathbed scene with my loved ones all around and everything that happened in life is explained. That somehow some entity with unquestionable integrity and love, clears it all up, the questions, the concerns, the confusing parts are laid out truthfully, once and for all. What that fantasy really is all about is indulging in momentary wishful thinking. I'm confident all of us do something along those lines every now and then.
So I joined the firekeeper and we stared at the television. There is great truth to the idea that Karma shows itself in people's faces. Bodies, too. As in body language. We can think of them as paid extras. Highly paid. I had to stop watching. It was the combination of Number One and the middle class. There is no more middle class. Once there existed a waking dream of class, but that went the way of dominoes falling as did castes. There are them and there are us. We are not ALL in it together. How many of us are Number One's? None, my friends, our multi-digit ISP is our number. The concept of being Number One in the context it was spoken was disconcerting. It meant hierarchy, it meant elite. It meant one indulges in any extreme to maintain the self-assigned illusion of being better, more capable and equipped to live, survive and serve as an example to all (the weakling-victims) beneath that level upon which he dwells. It is classic empire thinking. To have it all, to rule all of it. To be God. What could have been instead became the desire to possess the one mind, an impossibility without being of one mind because when you are of one mind, you have no desire to possess.
A 17 year-old girl was found under the rubble today by the French medics. 15 days after the initial quake. That brings the total found alive to 135. More evidence we should ignore statistical odds and go by guts. The firekeeper is firm in his position, as I said previously, having struggled through the Northridge quake, it was natural. Still, despite his very understandable and logical reasoning, there are some serious questions requiring serious attention. How much more of this kind of thing do we have to see/experience to note the moving paisleys in the pattern? It is this precipice in the fog that keeps these faux celebrities in the ratings. Who are they? Where did they come from? We know they've been with us from the beginning, but they are not of us. In almost any way we can think of they are the antithesis of us like a soap opera. The Deconstructionists. It is a massive, ongoing, proactive struggle for possession - beyond land, beyond oilfields. We wanted none of it, we asked for none of it. Victims just want it to stop. Do victims understand the war of possession is a permanent fixture? Chickory asked today in her comment, Where will they go? A brilliant question. Perhaps it is a question that can be answered only after the fact.
...These pieces of shit in Washington DC haven't got a clue what it is like to live hand to mouth, to lie awake at night hoping no one in the family gets sick or injured because you can't afford the insurance.I can barely watch these pompous elitist sacks of shit, posturing before the cameras, fat, wealthy, completely detached from the people they are supposed to represent. There is NO WAY I will watch Obama tonight, because it doesn't matter what he says, his actions NEVER match his words. No doubt he will eloquently hand us a ration of garbage tonight.These fat pompous elitists are running this country into the ground, while they place our sons and daughters in harm's way to secure the future assets of corporations that have no national allegiance. ...
I looked up from reading blogs and saw suits crowding the TV screen. Hardcore, aged, scowling secret service in the Gallery weaving through the throngs of our celebrity leadership. Did Pelosi get a lip job recently? Ah, the ever present pop beads. She could open a tourist boutique in Ghiardelli Square with her inventory. Manolo Blahniks and pop beads. Maybe the Vulcan-vixen could do a consignment deal with her on thigh highs?
I have a sort of standing fantasy and I realize it is a fantasy. It is a deathbed scene with my loved ones all around and everything that happened in life is explained. That somehow some entity with unquestionable integrity and love, clears it all up, the questions, the concerns, the confusing parts are laid out truthfully, once and for all. What that fantasy really is all about is indulging in momentary wishful thinking. I'm confident all of us do something along those lines every now and then.
So I joined the firekeeper and we stared at the television. There is great truth to the idea that Karma shows itself in people's faces. Bodies, too. As in body language. We can think of them as paid extras. Highly paid. I had to stop watching. It was the combination of Number One and the middle class. There is no more middle class. Once there existed a waking dream of class, but that went the way of dominoes falling as did castes. There are them and there are us. We are not ALL in it together. How many of us are Number One's? None, my friends, our multi-digit ISP is our number. The concept of being Number One in the context it was spoken was disconcerting. It meant hierarchy, it meant elite. It meant one indulges in any extreme to maintain the self-assigned illusion of being better, more capable and equipped to live, survive and serve as an example to all (the weakling-victims) beneath that level upon which he dwells. It is classic empire thinking. To have it all, to rule all of it. To be God. What could have been instead became the desire to possess the one mind, an impossibility without being of one mind because when you are of one mind, you have no desire to possess.
A 17 year-old girl was found under the rubble today by the French medics. 15 days after the initial quake. That brings the total found alive to 135. More evidence we should ignore statistical odds and go by guts. The firekeeper is firm in his position, as I said previously, having struggled through the Northridge quake, it was natural. Still, despite his very understandable and logical reasoning, there are some serious questions requiring serious attention. How much more of this kind of thing do we have to see/experience to note the moving paisleys in the pattern? It is this precipice in the fog that keeps these faux celebrities in the ratings. Who are they? Where did they come from? We know they've been with us from the beginning, but they are not of us. In almost any way we can think of they are the antithesis of us like a soap opera. The Deconstructionists. It is a massive, ongoing, proactive struggle for possession - beyond land, beyond oilfields. We wanted none of it, we asked for none of it. Victims just want it to stop. Do victims understand the war of possession is a permanent fixture? Chickory asked today in her comment, Where will they go? A brilliant question. Perhaps it is a question that can be answered only after the fact.
28 comments:
sorry nina,dont know who the fire keeper is.
..neil..
Oh, I'm sorry neil, he is the person I live with. Originally referred to here as the fire teacher since he taught me to make fires in our fireplace using the tee pee method with kindling. Over the course of the blog he was often later referred to as the firekeeper, which is what he does. We get heat solely from our fireplace and ditched the propane company a few years back. Its all in my archives under the survival diaries.
Are you also the poet "..peace.."?
since were revealing ourselves today. . .
Night before last I sat through The curious case of Benjamin Button
Last night it was back to Chungpas commentary preceeding "The Great Liberation through hearing in the Bardo"
sweethearts deep into a masters program aimed at some sort of hospice endeavor thats been forgotten, or doesn't exist yet?
I just do what I can to help and stay outa the way.
having said that, your piece on the celebrities and search for some relief seems pretty right on right now.
thank you
RW
yes thats me,peace is what I write with,I am not at complete peace all the time,all though I try to be.
I read poems years ago and a lot of anonymous writers would just sign peace,
..neil..
you sound like you have a good house nina.will have a read up of your archives later.
..neil..
Sailing accross the Atlantic in '72, we stopped in Bermuda for supplies.
My Port Royal bredrin and I rented two put-puts and putted down the road until we came to a seemingly abandoned plaza; but for a bookshop.
Playboy, old Nat Geos, well thumbed paperbacks.....and there, out of place but perfectly put was the Tibetan Book of the Dead and the Tibetan Book of the Great Liberation both translated by Prof Evans-Wentz. Mint.
A lovely sail, spoke to dolphins and watched whales. Mistral struck us off the Pillars of Hercules forcing us to run to Tangier.
Sometimes a road of sweetness opens for a while. I have learned to enjoy it with eyes open. Time changes everything. Yet I suspect that sweet road waits.
Best to you all, turey.
At 68 I should be jaded, comfortable with myself. Truth be told feeling like a raging maniac is not far off the mark. You have more courage than I. Watching that shit drives me batshit. So in the interest and benefit of sanity, I thank you for your words and art and a little John Coltrane to soothe the soul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbYKYyRIA1o
If it is not your cup of tea, just take the intent.
Burnie
Its is waiting still Rasta. Tech can't touch it. Its Jah gift to this planet.
No celebrities out there, no SOTUs, no SCOTUS, no CDS, just nice breeze on a high day and the galaxies at night.
Thank you for the photos!
My house would be that spooky rock one in said pics Nina. Wonder what is/was inside. They didn't say if any were shaken.
Saw Obama talking about gays in the military.
Wen mi did luk pon di big braas dem, mi neva si suh much screw face in one long tym Iya.
Later, turey.
You seem to have a cross section, I was about to say all your posters seemed sixties acidheads.
Not so apparently. I remain "sobered" after my earlier experience.
We will have to await what Les says when he does his abbatical. I do agree that February will "be" it.
The Rototiller goes on, N., and we will await? a spring. The heavens decided to give us 1.2" of rain last night, so we are on to a good start. TX
OK, you seem to have a cross section of agers... I dont want to sound like Kharredine so Id better end here! Earlier I thought you had just a lot of misguided twenty somethings. I was wrong. We had an inch of rain last night, the first in a year, got to get rototilling! TX
I am having a wonderful time reading all of your comments.
Ah Bernie, I might as well have been his love child. A love supreme child.
And Rasta, are we having talk like a Dread day? Let's make it every day!
And RW, I was looking it up and it shut me down. Are we not supposed to know about the Tibetan Dead?
Tex, what made you think the posters were mostly 60's acidheads? No doubt some are and that is a thrilling thing to me. It would be a far better world if more of us were 60's acidheads having flashbacks, talking about love and God all the time, making music and writing poetry, sharing our stuff and marching for peace.
Yes, Tex, it is an amazing cross section. Anyone is welcome. Always something new to learn. I appreciate you remarking on the mix. I couldn't tell you why there is such a mix, either. I guess I get attached easily to people who go to the trouble to make a comment in the first place and then do it again, and again.
Lemme see what Vizzy is saying today. I hate it when he's on hiatus.
May the rains continue.
Ras turey, I had chosen that one to paint. That seals it. Very cool. You should show it off here.
Vw: perizatl... some of them mean nothing.
Talk like a Dread Day. Re: congress. Reminds me of the Jamaican proverb: "Jonkro call him pickney white," because the ugly self-satisfied overseers see themselves as beautiful. John Crow was an old time missionary who dressed in black and ranted sermons with a red face, reminding the people of a Turkey Buzzard. So, they call turkey buzzards "jonkros." They are exceedingly ugly birds. Pickney is short for the old term, pickaninny (children). heh, heh..
Babylon a cum.
For a little mental vacation, one might enjoy this little trip to the Twilight Zone, in terms of envisioning something nice or taking a doom-break -
http://video.google.co.uk/videoplay?docid=3548793326769938702&q=Howard+Storm+near+death#
O free, I can't get vids on dialup. Even this I blame on the celebrity jonkros. There are a variety of justifications, but at the root, its still our vulture jonkros.
The concept and execution applied to those almost mirror finsih bowls is spiritual, organic art. They are a pleasure to behold.
I would like the lurkers to see them too. Many of the commenters might have already seen them and will likely want more. They are such an up. See for yourself.
A dis one yuh'a taak bowt sistrin?
http://www.flickr.com/photos/36870669@N08/?saved=1
turey.
at least you and firekeeper are on the same page. mine thinks he is still somehow going to earn his way to "them" status. the divide between is us is the call of the wild. as far as the state of the union address i leave it to the talking heads
same as it ever was....same as it ever was
into the blue again (after the money's gone)
turey...nice visuals on that sailing report.
to anon: i still vision quest once a year with my brother in early summer: compliments of big john, his white brahma bull.
happy weekend to all!
I'd always heard about a white Johncrow/Jonkro/Jancrow Freeacre. Pronounciation depending on where you are and who is talking. This one being a real bird, not the one in the Jamaican saying.
One morning strolling around Treasure Beach, I saw a group (haunt?) of said vultures around a dead goat. None started eating until a fat white plumed thing waddled in and pecked away.
After breakfast the sable ones departed. The white had to treck up a slope and run down to get take off momentum. Old story confirmed. I heard of a Native tribe in the US that uses the black feathers, for their regalia. Most Jamaicans would cringe at the thought.
My sister would most likely eat Big John Chickory. Having my three children as friends more than compensates. Your brother and yourself are fortunate to have such a link.
My basically fundamentalist Xstian bredrin with a twist of Rasta up here are convinced that Port-o-Prince was cursed. Seems most of this persuasion consider Obeah and Voodoo cousins. The science is irrelevant. God is in control and any deviation from the commandments causes retribution of some kind. The end is near too. Wars and disasters are portends. Only thing to do is eat, drink and be merry and await on the return of the Lord JC who took away the sins of the world.......
They may be near to the truth, my spirit cannot accept such cop out conclusions though. If this is the "Footstool of the most High", should we not be keeping it in good shape and working/playing with enlightened cooperation?
I'm happy to be a one man show, mostly. To stumble on this and related getogethers is heartical.
Babylon a cum. Sums it up. Sex'n'money. The Big (or little) O as a commodity. Dr Reich should be around to help.
Did you see the little boy that raised his arms and cheered at his saving with the crowd in Haiti? They do not want us to wallow in sympathy for them. They want to work and trade with us and allow the Loas/Devas/Zemis to do their things. They need help in recovering from the financial crippling inflicted on that nation of 'dangerous' Africans that worshipped the Devil. The 7.0 was a harsh punctuation point in geological time.
Listen to some Haitian music. The roots stuff. They have much to teach from the Old Old World and the Old New World. Native American meets African.
Later, turey.
a gift to nina's clan:
from Georgia's poet laureate David Bottoms, and one of my favorites:
Under the Vulture Tree
We have all seen them circling pastures,
have looked up from the mouth of a barn, a pine clearing,
the fences of our own backyards, and have stood
amazed by the one slow wing beat, the endless dihedral drift.
But I had never seen so many so close, hundreds,
every limb of the dead oak feathered black,
and I cut the engine, let the river grab the jon boat
and pull it toward the tree.
The black leaves shined, the pink fruit blossomed
red, ugly as a human heart.
Then, as I passed under their dream, I saw for the first time
its soft countenance, the raw fleshy jowls
wrinkled and generous, like the faces of the very old
who have grown to empathize with everything.
And I drifted away from them, slow, on the pull of the river,
reluctant, looking back at their roost,
calling them what I'd never called them, what they are,
those dwarfed transfiguring angels,
who flock to the side of the poisoned fox, the mud turtle
crushed on the shoulder of the road,
who pray over the leaf-graves of the anonymous lost,
with mercy enough to consume us all and give us wings.
brings tears to my eyes everytime
word veri: blesse
I was gathering Aloe Vera from a remote location with wild plants once. Still plan to work with this friend. Stabilised gel, whole and solar dried leaves. Organic eh.
A group of Joncro were gathered around a few plants and had pecked away at the leaves until the normally spreading 'Sinkle Bible'. had become small trees. Like some of the S African varieties. They certainly knew the virtues of this plant.
They never knew it 500 years ago, the Spanish brought it.
Unless it was the Canaanites/Phoenicians/Sea People in the Late Bronze Age?
t.
Nina - DIAL UP! Gaaaaah! I sympathize. I just made a deal with Murph that I would roll my own cigarettes so that the money would be freed up to pay for the additional cost of a bandwidth upgrade to watch streaming videos. What a world.
Beautiful poem, Chickory. Guess I'll never think of buzzards the way I used to.
It seems we are a long way off from understanding what the non human beings on this planet know and have to teach us. I wish we could learn before it's too late.
We watched a documentary rented from Netflix last night called "The Cove" about dolphin exploitation that was really powerful. See it if you can.
Ras turey, that IS indeed the one. Email an original, or larger, IF you have, hi res so I can pick up the details. Gratitude.
Lovely poem chickory.
The one I sent is the only one I have Nina.
Okay, then I'll make it big so we have a nice expanded view. How so you come by this house Rasta? Isn't this Haitian? And you a Jamdown child?
I thought it may seem like my house, in reflection pre waking this morning. I'd certainly build in such a location and have the pavilion in front of the higher cottage.
All the images were sent through a Ja contact from Haiti. Interesting to find out if they were pre or post 7.0.
My thumbnail logo on Salka Vida is from a location close to my Ja land. The sea is a few minutes walk away. The Plantain Garden fault is nearby. I'm on ancient limestone with spring nearby and food a line or spear away if push come fi shove. The market ladies still come with food on their donkeys. They still give 'brawta'. The Ja 13 in the dozen.
turey.
'king-I' and the Empress.
PS: I'm Rasta but for the Selassie and the throne of David business. Mr Natural better!
Jah S, in certain quarters.
Being in a wooded valley there should be a stream nearby. Those stones look as if they came from a more intense flow.
Seems like the cottage is on the slope behind overlooking runnings. The light colored rocks to the right of the entrance look like limestone, common in all the islands. Maybe the source of the cement.
It looks damp, I'd run solar heated water under the floor.
I heard of a floor that includes beeswax, my favoured wood polish. It must feel yummy underfoot.
Moonlight night there, insects in full song. Some dogs bark at passing ghosts.......the smells of the tropical night blooming plants.
Even there morning comes and dishes have to be washed.
turey.
Post a Comment