nice grainy boyvoice pop describes grace

DoubtingParis – Good Intentions (band web site)
Immoor – Underside Up (band web site)

ah so that's it, 12.31.o6

12.31.o6


















.
Stop! Thief! - Did I Shave My Legs for This?
faintedink fort erie singalong material?

hey, 12.31.o6










.
Vetiver – You May Be Blue (To Find Me Gone)

for Virgo this week: In Kabbalah, the tree of life is the primary symbol of the universe. In Norse mythology, the World Tree links heaven to earth and shelters all living things; beneath it lies a magical well with water that confers special powers on those who drink it. The ancient Chinese spoke of a peach tree that bore a single fruit once every three millennia, and provided immortality to anyone who ate it. In the mythic tradition of modern science, trees have a crucial role in maintaining the ecological health of the planet. I mention all this, Virgo, because in 2007 you'll benefit tremendously from deepening your relationship with trees--both the actual and mythical kinds. Get to know them better. Learn from them. Plant some. Put a picture of a favorite tree on your altar. Hug one now and then.

Hug a tree. Hug a tree? Does he mean Markedly Undemonstrative Persons?

moka hotel this tree pic waiting there (the first after-xmas My-new-year posting) along with a folk music list to accompany their trip to a cabin in the woods : “unbathed, hungry like the wolves, going out at night to caress tree’s crust . .” What a dumbstruckingme coincidence also that there is on the list a Manassas song. If you were still crapping your pants in the 1970’s, then you’d know that Manassas is another name for Stephen Stills of Crosby Stills Nash & Young, and you’d know that because your daddy would have played you your favorite CSNY album as many times as

Manassas – Johnny’s Garden
CSNY – Teach Your Children (so highly recommended)

Damien
(when he kisses mouth and back and laments “come read me the story of o” could convince me to change my name to Amy)
Rice – 9 crimes

.



.
Business Man - Wicked Game ( trentmoller Chris Isaaak dubmix)

James Brown died. That's Life

the end

one xmas mine field to another dash, though I'd rather be invisible than have super speed

guess maybe cuz I've got the runnin' off part down

restive melt playlist:
the cowboy junkies - blue moon
sparrow house – when I am gone
ray charles and nina simone -baby it's cold outside
the soft boys - got the hots

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."
-----Optimus Prime

I'm somewhat lazily studying the difference between American and Japanese Transformers.

jimi hendrix - machine gun

xmas presence v.3

miles davis - I fall in love too easily and not easily enough

xmas presence v.2

damien rice & lisa hannagen - silent night [wow]

I hate christmas music. If I must have sentimentality (which oddly in spurts of real xmas tree type smell urges I do I do okay sue me whatever), I want it to at least be peculiar. Damien and Lisa, they do it again and again and again (thrice is also an adverb, btw).

xmas presence (v.1?)

"God Knows (You Gotta Give to Get)," El Perro del Mar (that'd be enlightened self-interest, I believe)

twice is an ADVERB Etymology: Middle English twiges, twies, from Old English twiga



Today is global orgasm day. No, seriously:

THE EVENT-

WHO? All Men and Women, you and everyone
you know.
WHERE? Everywhere in the world, but especially in countries with weapons of mass destruction.
WHEN? Winter Solstice Day - Friday, December 22nd,
at the time of your choosing, in the place of your choosing and with as much privacy as you choose.
WHY? To effect positive change in the energy field of the Earth through input of the largest possible surge of human energy a Synchronized Global Orgasm. There are two more US fleets heading for the Persian Gulf with anti-submarine equipment that can only be for use against Iran, so the time to change Earth’s energy is NOW!

ambulance ltd – stay tuned

m. ward - chinese translation

john tavener - the lament (of the mother of God at the foot of the cross)

(jingle bells . . . ) that one's for DmS

I woke up and watched the light bounce around as I like to—a gallon of honey would be kind of perfect next to the window . . . What if by mutually compelling forces of chance and reason (chaos is order seeking itself, and vice versa, someone told me that) it turns out that although AstrologyGuy pulled it outa his ass he stumbled into some weird truth of blessing traveling creation via portals of honey pots? (What if even AstrologyGuy has P-on-the-end-Woman pussywhipped?) Things I know for sure: honey doesn’t rot, it would look good near a window of light, that I upend the bottle of it straight into my mouth on a regular basis, that it’s good especially with peanut butter, that it heals wounds, that I’m buying two gallon glass jars of it today and sending one to my father. And that with the cranky storm (wooow) of the last few days breaking up in my head finally, my first thoughts today were of ‘highest values’.

V.1 Freedom is a Necessary Burden. I have been thinking about this a lot recently in regards to work, for instance. DmS looks for work, a mournful process. I have been barely able to do it in my life, waged work with hours quantifiable in that way. In fact, most of the people most closely related to me by blood and closest to me by choice and emotional attachment—these people are for the most part organically biologically spiritually intellectually instinctively intuitively allergic to selling their time. They’ll give it away. They’ll piss it away. But if you try to buy it off them, forget it. Some have chosen poverty. Some, like me, have wiggled themselves into a lifestyle of fixity wherein automatic deposits and withdrawals take care of themselves, as if for the most part money doesn’t even exist—don’t want anything beyond the means of that fixity and you never have to think about it hardly until the car breaks down. Some have looked for work that transcends its day in social value and is as a result of course a fraction of lucrative. Then there are the (sometimes lunatic) businesses, “pet sitting and interior design”, junked snowmobiles compiled into one working and sold, hell maybe a bridge of swizzle fucking sticks from one end of nowhere to the other, just not 9-5 of tasks with no inherent value of being interesting. Or death (off and on). So be it.

I am looking forward to more opportunities to think about this Value 1 in all terms, not just the personal where it is most difficult to apply in ideal balance. P-on-the-End. All the women in my life so far whom I’ve gotten to take that personality test and tell me, they’re all J-on-the-End of the same string of mine except for that difference. Once I sprayed the tub with Scrubbing Bubbles and realized that the clean-smell had to be actually a physical substance, molecules of whatever, little tiny beings going into me via my nose, and the thought freaked me out. Feelings are like that. Invisible, but of a substance that is measurable, but not easily so. Intuition is a name for one method of measurement. Some are slower to add things up than others. But they get there, and maybe the time it took them (P) cements their judgments. Add in V.1 and the Get Offa Me backlash . . . well let’s just say you can take a swing at somebody so hard it knocks you on your own ass too. For xmas, I’d like to be able to keep my ass up off the ground with the cold seeping in.

bill (always good) evans – when I fall in love
marit bergman – my love (timberlake cover—can’t believe it’s good but it is)

for Virgo this week: Mytho-poetic scholars say that honey symbolizes emotional maturity. When it appears in your dreams or reveries, it may mean you're expanding your capacity to experience feelings that are positive and healthy for you. It suggests you're ready to shed distorted psychological patterns that you unwittingly absorbed as a child, and replace them with new imprints that are in harmony with your highest values. Since 2007 will bring opportunities for you to do these exact things, Virgo, I suggest that you give honey an honored place in your life. Maybe buy some of the best stuff on the market, put it in a fine decanter, and keep it on an altar in your

or whiskey 12.06

Robert Dick - Voodoo Child

oy, 12.06

grading finals geeod blow my head off out of all patience for geewhiz I thought this book was swell like I give a shit why don’t you tell me to shove it just for a change and everybody else say something else for a change and you might ask for a password if you're clueless instead of being a dumbass about it snortstamp god damn playlist:

Renee Olstead – Someone to Watch Over (Me, duh)
Chet Baker- Tenderly
Diana Krall – Peel Me a Grape
Sarah Vaughn – Whatever Lola Wants (tango)
Faithless ft. Nina Simone – I Want More
bonus: Imogen Heap – Missing You

coincidence
a year ago today I get into this accident and who was noticing and who didn’t was impossible
only stand-byes tonight for-real voices wish it were a bit longer of a
playlist:
Janis – me and bobby mcgee
Johnny – in my life
Bobie – go now or stay all night

When I was younger, I’d wander in the insomnia. There was a very large space of undeveloped acreage near our land that eventually got drained of its boggy tendencies and turned into mc mansions. But at the time, it was empty save for the paths, which I’d wander almost nightly. The only person who knew I did that was my father, also a life-long insomniac. He never reprimanded me for it, or for anything I did really. His violent storms would break over me for reasons of his own inner phases, which I knew, and thus I monitored them closely. little-girl-barometer. Once I was wandering back in the still-dark, and I found him in the yard taking pictures of the night sky. He had the tripod set up, and when I looked I saw what he was trying to capture despite its movement, the layers of clouds vaporous enough to see through. “Full moon”, he said. “I knew there was a reason I felt like beating the fucking shit out of somebody all day.” I remember watching my own mind think the kind of things it generally did against the backdrop of reading his: the moon’s gravity is responsible for tidal patterns in the large bodies of water on the earth; the fuller the moon the closer to sunset will be moonrise or something like that; 12? men have walked on the moon; one of them was named Buzz; my father scares me; the brightest stars in the sky are actually planets; if near dusk, it’s probably Venus . . .

chopin - prelude in E minor

"This is about Darwinian prosperity. Males who did not successfully guard their mates are not our ancestors."

smitten kitten

.

(some) Women go bonkers for men’s voices and stink, off and on, and their brains expand/contract over the whole thing. I had to pause and investigate. [After I got done listening to George Clooney.] A woman’s brain can shrink as much as 8 % during pregnancy. In fact, the shrinkage starts pre-natal. (duh) Then on the hormone rebound, the reparative connectivity of the brain exceeds the original un-apple-carted state.

= aslkjdalrprrrrdkj : zzzzzz : whatthe?!

erma franklin – piece of my heart (joplin cover)

bonus track: the bird and the bee – f’n boyfriend

creeper lagoon - under the tracks (his and)

certified bananas – kiss the girl (baltimore remix)

[look at d' boy so shy la laaa]

'under control / in control'
2005
Lucy Petrovich Johnie Hugh Horn

I'm wondering about the range of human(e) personalities. INFP sounds better than my homespun "frigid nymphomaniac", but Fred Savage as a possible soul mate is a tad depressing.

(You try it.)

"I Think I'd Like to Go Back to Heaven," Alec Ounsworth

untitled, kenichi hoshine












loren connors - along the way

(bonus track - whistle while you work)

bobie dylan - don't think twice it's alright

For Virgo this week: Here's the bad news. Sometimes your perfectionism verges on being a sophisticated death trip--a manic compulsion to trap life inside a tight little cell where no change is allowed. Here's the good news: You now have the power to strip away the pathological part of your perfectionism and liberate the healthy core of it. Please swear to me that you'll figure out how to be more fluid and playful with your zeal for excellence. Spend less time running your mind in vicious circles and more time running your mind in upward spirals. [“and down is very close to the ground. And I'm trying to go up without thinking about anything trivial”]

secret see thru catpeople haunting the working superman playlist:
Cujo (Amon Tobin) – Catpeople
Emilie Simon – Secret
Gil Scott-Heron – Ain’t No Such Thing as Superman
Muzykoterapia – Love Haunting
Flunk – See Thru You
Pj Harvy – Workin for the Man

Things I remember learning in college about the Far East:

That attachment is a disease [though of course Dylan would be worth it], via about 100 trains of thought, such as : Zen: Japanese; Ch'an (Chinese); a branch of Mahayana Buddhism which developed in China during the sixth and seventh centuries after Bodhidharma arrived; it later divided into the Soto and Rinzai schools; Zen stresses the importance of the enlightenment experience and the futility of rational thought, intellectual study and religious ritual in attaining this; a central element of Zen is zazen, a meditative practice which seeks to free the mind of all thought and conceptualization. [Later, I go ga-ga for this guy who is like the ones I fall into, both without a solution and difficult besides, and who advises that we herd an ox over a cliff to get over all forms of desire, and the ox is our own minds. (pause) oy vei]

That the Cultural Revolution was a bitch. But there was something a wee bit compelling in the fantasy of chopping any talking head right off. Cranky then, I remember often having guilty identifications with the bad guys, from Lex Lurther to Mao Zedong.

The Yellow River. The Yangtze River.

Night Soil.

Empress Dowagers. A couple of them were real hardasses, one in the 1600’s and another at the end of the 1800’s. One was Ghengis Kahn’s grandkid or something like that and she ruled wedged up her heir’s ass like a toggle.

That in China even a peasant could advance to higher education, during some of the dynasties anyway, by scoring well enough on Confucian exams, and that a person was judged on all sorts of rote knowledge repeated to perfection and that the handwriting was also to be aesthetically perfectly representative. (Like black fascist boots, i.e. loved that despite myself while simultaneously wallowing in The Closing of the American Mind.)

The myth of Mulan. Maxine Hong Kingston’s version. I particularly liked the part when her parents tattoo their list of existential complaints all down her back back back.

Madeleine Peyroux - Blue Alert (highly recommended—ying/yang balance droll/sexy.)

miles davis - thought about you

I haven’t yet had the nerve to ask FaintedInk what she wears to work because how geeky is that? (very) Flying solo then on the question of corporate environs vis a vis my wardrobe, I conclude that the glow-in-the-dark MEOW panties can stay (who’ll know?), but that my t-shirt collection is probably not going to be spot on. So I drag my butt to the mall a couple of times, the excuse being that really a person my age ought to have at least a few ensembles that do not include any thrift store elements . . . but I just can’t hold that thought after the reconnaissance. I do not mean to offend any of my younger loved ones, but apparently if you were still crapping your pants in the 80’s you might not realize this: THEY WERE UGLY YEARS. Rules of thumb:

• A leotard is not an outfit. (Let’s review: No.)
• Leopard print leggings are never a good idea.
• Leopard print anything is never a good idea.
• A 3-inch belt over a sweater will bunch the thing up on your ass something terrible.
• Faux fur edged down alternative hooded coats are sold at Farm & Fleet, as is everything Will Geer wore on The Waltons, and so unless you’re into cow tipping . . . .
• Stiletto ankle boots might have some purpose, but not often and probably not in public.
• Dalman sleeves maybe, but be careful of the Maud factor.
• Cowl necks are similarly suspect.
• Don’t. Rat. Your. Hair. (On purpose anyway. I mean, if it gets that way riding behind Prince on a purple motorcycle, I can kinda see the retro appeal, but otherwise no.) And bangs should never go as far up first as they come down thereafter.
• Ideally, earrings should be neither the size of your head nor red.

I love Paula, but do you see her wearing bubble shorts and leg warmers lately? And then, on top of the assault to eyes, the mall adds a retro xmas soundtrack. Can someone please shoot Elton and put him out of my misery? MY EYES!! MY EARS!!! AAAAHhhh.

Age has some benefits. We haven’t died, we’ve moved on. Catch up.

Cyndi Lauper lately – At Last

Being noticed can be a burden. Jesus got himself crucified because he got himself noticed. So I disappear a lot.

From Dylan’s acceptance speech for the Tom Paine Freedom Award, Bill of Rights Dinner, 1963:

I haven't got any guitar, I can talk though. I want to thank you for the Tom Paine award in behalf everybody that went down to Cuba. First of all because they're all young and it's took me a long time to get young and now I consider myself young. And I'm proud of it. I'm proud that I'm young. And I only wish that all you people who are sitting out here today or tonight weren't here and I could see all kinds of faces with hair on their head - and everything like that, everything leading to youngness, celebrating the anniversary when we overthrew the House Un-American Activities just yesterday, - Because you people should be at the beach. You should be out there and you should be swimming and you should be just relaxing in the time you have to relax. It is not an old peoples' world. It is not an old peoples' world. It has nothing to do with old people. Old people when their hair grows out, they should go out. And I look down to see the people that are governing me and making my rules - and they haven't got any hair on their head - I get very uptight about it . . .

My friends are my friends, and they're kind, gentle people if they're my friends. And I'm not going to try to push nothing over. So, I accept this reward - not reward, award in behalf of Phillip Luce who led the group to Cuba which all people should go down to Cuba. I don't see why anybody can't go to Cuba. I don't see what's going to hurt by going any place. I don't know what's going to hurt anybody's eyes to see anything.

.

There's no black and white, left and right to me anymore; there's only up and down and down is very close to the ground. And I'm trying to go up without thinking about anything trivial such as politics. They has got nothing to do with it. I'm thinking about the general people and when they get hurt. --From a letter to the Emergency Civil Liberties Committee

I don't mind being shot, I just don't dig being told about it.
- No Direction Home

.

bob dylan - you're gonna make me lonesome

Who knew?
Just think of the possibilities. "Ya fuckin puck chuckin puck head!", for example.

There is something coming. I can feel it. Like rain, where my son broke my pelvic bone and it aches in the damp, so I know. I don’t know what it is though. It/he/she is not in general circulation. For instance, to be specific, the cute bartender isn’t it, no matter that he remembers my name a couple weeks later like it was nothing. I look at him and I can’t imagine the raking of my teeth cross his shoulder in knowing, because I don’t remember his name in turn, and have to ask it again. I could go on with the instances of what it is not, and what masks it like air freshener over the smell of real air. It’s always like this.

Welp. 12.06

Meanwhile, Fort Erie Cognitive Dissonance ft. (They know all the words) playlist:

Eminem ft Nate Dog - Shake That (and good for yoga-no seriously)
Buckcherry- Crazy Bitch
Counting Crows – Mr. Jones (acoustic) [you would think the shift between those last two would give a person whiplash, eh?]

untitled actually, 12.2006

The wind’s picking up. Storm warning. It’d be odd if the last day of classes were called off for snow. We would all then disperse like motes, without goodbye. And as it will be not just the last day but my last day, it would be hard not to read significance into that. They will never have heard Howl. I could not be evaluated. It would not be my choice, none of it. I suspect that is often the case.

For Virgo this week: I can't believe I'm saying this, but doing lots of housework in the coming days could give you a big lift. At least for now, organizing the clutter and cleaning up a hundred little messes in your home could directly or indirectly lead to improved health, interesting developments in your sex life, and upgrades in your relationship to future work possibilities. It might even free up psychic energy that has been stuck, help you rediscover an important thing you thought you'd lost, and remind you to take better care of a crucial connection you've been taking for granted.

Welp, I already painted the bedroom, so that’s not it. (Turned out lovely btw, melty ice cream as the sun hits it. My older son says, falling asleep, “Dad is better actively because he can make cardboard machine guns, but you’re better making things soft. And you smell better.) Every day I pass an orange tapestry embroidered with little mirrors. It hides the wall gash. It bugs me every time because it is false. It would not bother me to see the gash, obviously I know it’s there, so for whom do I keep and hide it? I’ll take it down and hang a pointless picture, like of a knee or some random thing.

Buddhist proverb: Meeting is only the beginning of separation. I know that too. But I learned it when my first child left my body, and so I could not take it as a corrective suggestion not to say hello with all my heart. The proverb then is merely a statement of fact. (i.e. Tough cookies!)

Bob Dylan – All I Really Want

Furthermore [she says lecture-ly, missing already the student(s) gone], the problem with the wisdom of detachment: by the time it is time for a write off, the exhaustion of having reached that point makes the further work of ‘letting go’ seem like a monumental effort of the Will. How can you look across at what needs parting and not wonder how you could spend that effort on something not worth the keeping? The only honest solution I can think of is to leave the gash. Open. In The Antelope Wife, the mother thinks of her lover while her twins lounge on her, and she thinks of her stretch marks as cartography as they trace them with their fingers. I have no marks at all. Body in Cognito. And I gave the book away, a gift not a loan.

Belle & Sebastian – Step Into My Office, Baby

christmas list spelling

Power Rangere-s
Lion
Pokeman
Video ranjer
v.flash
ninja turtulz
yo yo
zipzaps
Game (g inverted) Boy
Magaman (g inverted) comes sold zepretle
Norito ninga mastr
PRIMES!
Trile pack (of?)
Heper scan
Miechsm-
Onsters

Some day I’ll claim to you how all used up
I am because of you but in the meantime the ride
Continues. Everyone is along for the ride,
It seems. Besides, what else is there?

- John Ashbery, "Worsening Situation"

Like Cinderella, I left a token behind in good faith but skittish(ed) away before the coach turned to a pumpkin after all. The good thing about going to China, so far, is that I cannot tell what the good thing will be about it. It will at worst be no happily ever after, and at best it’ll be god only knows what. (And the red guys won too, and I was the only one paying attention, almost.) Sometimes it feels as if someone has a crowbar between my rack of ribs and with leverage I might break open.

piers faccini – if I

Ron Sexsmith – Foolproof

Feist - Foolproof (Sexsmith cover)

I shouldn't tell you that the upshot is at the end, bc the impatient deserve what they don't get.

from The Dharma Bums, Jack Kerouac:

I looked at him, his head was buried way under inside his duck-down bag. His little huddled form was the only thing I could see for miles of darkness that was so packed and concentrated with eager desire to be good. I thought, “What a strange thing is man . . like in the Bible it says, Who knoweth the spirit of man that looketh upward? This poor kid ten years younger than I am is making me look like a fool for forgetting all the ideals and joys I knew before, in my recent years of drinking and disappointment, what does he care that if he hasn’t got any money: he doesn’t need any money, all he needs is his rucksack with those little plastic bags of dried food and a good pair of shoes and off he goes and enjoys the privileges of a millionaire surrounded like this. And what gouty millionaire could get up this rock anyhow? It took us all day to climb.” And I promised myself that I would begin a new life. I went to sleep after burying my nose under the sleeping bag and woke up around dawn shivering, the ground cold had seeped through the poncho and through the bag and my ribs were up against a damper damp than the damp of a cold bed. My breath was coming out in steams. I rolled over to the other ribs and slept more: my dreams were pure cold dreams like ice water, happy dreams, no nightmares. [but I bet his ass was cold]




toss and turn
12.2006

.

denison witmer - northern sky (nick drake cover)

For Virgo this week: In one of Aesop's fables, a donkey becomes enamored of the crickets' serenades. Longing to produce the same sound himself, he goes to a cricket for advice. "What kind of food gives you that sweet-sounding voice?" he asks. The cricket says, "My food is the air and the dew." The donkey then begins a new diet, hoping that by eating nothing but air and dew he too will be able to make beautiful, whirring melodies. It doesn't happen, of course. The donkey merely starves. Let this be your teaching story for the coming week, Virgo. Sing your own song with your own voice, whether that sounds like a hee-haw or a warble. And get the exact nurturing that will help you sing your own song with your own voice, not the nurturing that helps others sing their special tunes.

Huh. Well it cannot be denied that recently and repeatedly I have been a half-starved (dumb)ass.

So upon reflection, I cannot teach the following: How to avoid being a half starved (dumb)ass; How to use a power drill; How to relent; How to be a good citizen; How to be a model employee; How to be a cricket; How to develop professional skills (on purpose—incidentally yes, but not on purpose); How to be on time (too early yes, but not spot on); How to sleep through the night; How to make a good break (in pool, for instance); How to plan for a comfortable retirement; How to care about worksheets; How to fake caring about worksheets; How to fake it (well—badly yes, and most people don’t notice); How to eat the vegetables first and the dessert last, generally speaking; How to spell (I’m not even sure about dessert—desert?); How to be beige; How to want what you don’t and/or unwant what you do, no matter how perverse or perverse-seeming to others; How not to be perverse or perverse-seeming; How to understand or embrace ‘productivity’ in any worldly way; How to finish, which is for being dead, so why teach that in any form anyway?

I think I’ve been straying, out of desire to do the right thing, from what I know and my own voice. I teach: For No Good Reason. Someone has to do that, and that’s what I do.

Ballboy - I Need Two Hearts