Thursday, March 31, 2005


Well, spring is pregnant again, that beautiful slut, and already I see around me all the new twilights getting longer and brighter.

I went and saw some farms last week. One guy is running an organic beef cattle operation. He's a young guy, and his whole family, his parents, his brothers and sisters, went and threw everything they have into organics. Sort of like placing a bet that paradise wins. Economists don't make those kinds of bets unless paradise can be calculated into GDP. Some say it can, but those that do typically spend their time sitting in boxes and watching other boxes. The kid farmer spends all his time around things that go "moo" and don't care if they're taking a shit and you're just standing there. Paradise in the eye of the beholder indeed. So there's that.

What am I talking about? That question is coming up more and more. The pope died, but he was very old and I'm not here to waste time on someone I know nothing about. I'm sure he was very nice, or maybe he wasn't. Apparently Osama bin Laden is quite a personable fellow.

Ah yes, farming.

The kid farmer, glowing with optimism and courage so I just wanted to pinch both his cheeks and say, "yeah, motherfucker, you just keep doing what you're doing", strangely echoed a thought of mine while he was talking. "You want to change the world for real, start with agriculture."

The cows mooed.

What the farmer and the cows don't understand is that for humanitarian progress to continue economic growth must continue maniacally until there are enough television shows and plastics consumption to feed orphans in the Sudan. How do you expect to eat if there are only 9,000 loaves of Wonderbread available for you personally over the course of a single year? Don't you see the connection people? The farmer is obviously a Utopian. Rational people understand the necessity of low-wage labor, or no cheap pizza for you. nevermindthat all your serious boxes crumble into fields one day or that blood and shit win most wars. Jesus christ I sound like a crazy old lady.

Make sure before you go you drink wine in the park and pour some on the ground for your naked, rutting gods.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

idiot's dirge

Maybe it is just that I am a single drifting ghost moving through this world, walking its forests and its gutters, stopping once in a while, look around, drift on again while the earth breathes whatever strange and epic transformation it happens to be undergoing, with or without me.

So maybe singing whatever song of loss that comes from my self is just an idiot's love song easily drowned by the ka-chung ka-chung ka-chung of the world.

Ah well, fuck it. The song is real.

Let me tell you a story:

There is a place known as the Black Hills in South Dakota. This was once land of the Lakota people. This was a holy place to them.

In the 19th century, the Americans made a treaty with the Lakota, protecting the Black Hills. Then, someone found gold there. And that, as they say, was that.

It is a very old story. The Americans were the inheritors of British colonies. A few hundred years before, the Briton people lived in an strangely similar way to the Lakotas of the 19th century. The Roman Empire came over and set up colonies on the island. Eventually they dominated the southern half of the island. The Britons worshiped at sacred groves of trees. The Britons were very rebellious, so the Romans cut them down. The Briton religions eventually vanished, mostly as a consequence of being invaded and culturally dominated by the Romans. The Britons became Romanized, right down to the newfangled Christianity of the time. The Romans suffered from a disease of machinery. Their armies were highly organized machines. They brought order wherever they went, in the form of very straight lines.

The Romans caught the disease (before they gave it to the Britons) from the Greeks. The Greeks caught it from the Egyptians, who were noted for forcing people to pretend they were gods and making them build gigantic pyramids of no conceivable use to the people who were compelled to build them.

"As for the Pyramids, there is nothing to wonder at in them so much as the fact that so many men could be found degraded enough to spend their lives constructing a tomb for some ambitious booby, whom it would have been wiser and manlier to have drowned in the Nile, and then given his body to the dogs...

...Many are concerned about the monuments of the West and the East, -- to know who built them. For my part, I should like to know who in those days did not build them..."

- Henry David Thoreau

What is this disease? It is nothing more than organzied greed, parading itself as the vanguard of civilization. And here we come to the machines.

Because it has been suggested that the machines are irrevocable, they are as part of us as air and water and talking and eating. To which I reply,


But so what? This is an idiot's dirge, and idiots are not famous for knowing when to shut up.

What I have to say is that nothing is inevitable. We look back on how things happened and by the distortion of the lens we are fooled into believing that things could not have happened in any other way. Things only happened in one way, but an infinite multitude of possibilities existed of what could have happened. And that is true of you and me and the whole earth.

Anything could have happened.

It is true of machines too, and the mechanization of civilization that began with somewhere in the murky past of Egyptian slavelords and on to unstoppable Roman legions and British guns and American railroads and before, because its in our hearts.

Machines blossom from the hands of humans because we are an inventor species. We are good at making things. But how we built and what we built and what we build for are as subject to the infinite possibilities that our hearts can fathom as was history.

So we built machines of iron and we build cities and factories, we build armies and slowly each of us identifies themselves as a component rather than as a god.

Because when you see yourself as a god, not the kind that runs things, but the kind that is very sacred, the living heart of buddha/christ/what have you, what you see through your own eyes is very important. It might be highly discouraging to sit in a concrete box when you are a god, with a lot of pasty, sickly, withered cogs surrounding you, but if you are a component, well, that's your fate. That is the way of the world. I imagine a slave must have felt very much the same.

Our machines could have been different. Our countries could have been different, had our ancestors chosen differently. But we are small and it takes us a long time to learn things. We cannot bring back all that is lost, the groves are gone, the Britons are now Englishmen who make horrible food and decent music and admire a rather ridiculous aristocracy, what is left of the Lakotas live on reservations and run casinos and try to resuscitate a beautiful culture in its death throes, The Roman Empire transformed (eventually) into the European Empire, which turned out to be the greatest single disaster to befall humanity, crushing whole civilizations wherever it went.

But the future could be anything.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

all gods

"Who knows verily, who can here declare it,
Whence it was born, whence comes this creation?
The gods are later than the world's formation,
who knows then whence it first came into being?

He, the first origin of this creation,
whether he formed it all or did not form it,
Whose eye surveys this world in highest heaven,
He verily knows it,
or perhaps he knows not."
-The Rg Veda (10:129)

All of us friends, I have chased dragons with through the alleys of downtown, sat on the porches of madness in the oaken placid oldtown neighborhoods on summer nights, listened to the rambling sprawl of wounds and half-understood dreams, embraced with love my best friends in stupid childhood, made out with girls and boys in childhood until I grew up heterosexual, endured their threats and fuck yous no fuck you! and scrapped in the park until our mutual retardation broke like a dumb wave on time, waved goodbye without knowing I would never see them again.

I am glad of my friends, some of them have sweet souls, others, well... they may have grumpy souls but their hearts are good. Most hearts are good. It's a truth that doesn't die, you try your best to condemn all the agression but I can't help but lose heart somewhere down the line and realize in the end its only a foolishness, a lunatic derailment of everything we could have been were it not for a painful survival instinct that grabs us all in the end, and the best of us, unfamous and strong, are those that never had to sneer in bitterness when it came for them. Its all just a trajedy, all the sorrow forgotten under new, clean black soil. Just kids, youre all just kids, playing and being mean to each other.

What has this got to do with anything? You may well ask that question. I don't have much time to write these fucking things these days so I'm just kind of rambling into the 400/500 word count. Am I there yet? Not yet.

But that's what I keep trying to tell you, what can I call it? The Abundance of Life. There's too much of it to be contained in the little thoughts of peoples carving out little mythologies, (no less grand and fairly interesting for being little), and each life seeing through its own eyes and own feelings (or a resonable facsimile), and beyond governments and saviors there are 7 billion human lives and 40 billion billion billion animal lives all dangling on a small blue pebble drifting around a fat burning being consuming itself in fire - Siva indeed - all gods good, all buddhas smile if it gives you the feeling of being awake. What did Teddy say before he died?

At any rate it was something about your arm. You think an arm is an arm when it isn't, that is to say, you think your arm stops at your fingers, when it doesn't. He said that when Adam ate the apple there was logic inside. You can learn all that stuff later, Teddy said, if you want. But if you want to see things you have to vomit up all that logic.

An idea with which I fully concur. I have vomited many times, and most of those experiences were fairly informative. I remember when Gal Fuschia taught me the secrets of the bulimic, an esoteric knowledge known to few males, and being pantheistic by nature I have always been grateful for scraps of knowledge from any religion. Except Satanism. Satanism is just lame. That was just before I saw the Dalai Lama, who said, roughly, i was dreadfully hungover - I drank every alcohol known to man and some kinds only the aliens I met know about - but essentially he said if you came today for answers you will be disappointed, I am just a monk. I just know that compassion leads to happiness. It was simple and unimpressive. That impressed me a great deal.

A guru I once met in a suburb of my old city, living in a twostory prefab home (I think we made it past the 500 word mark now) I wandered in the middle of his lecture, just near sunset, him with his back to his cheap plastic window overlooking a lot of summer oak trees, and the sun coming through shining all to hell and pouring gold light through the window and through the glass of water he held in his raised hand. In the other hand he held up a cube of ice that was melting and the cold water dripping off his palm and gleaming the light like little falling prisms.

Sitting like that, he said that you are an icecube and the glass of water the universe, and all meditation is doing is melting the icecube. He dropped the icecube into the glass and spoke as it disappeared, he said something I've never forgotten and probably always ignored, meditation is putting brakes in the car of mind. People don't know how to stop thinking. Would you get into a car that wouldn't stop when you wanted?

Well, maybe.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005


Dr. Christopher Clark has established solid evidence of a phenomena that has been suspected for the last few decades. It is an important finding, of greater significance than the discoveries of Titan or Mars.

The songs of whales can span oceans.

see -here-

What it means is that whales had the first global communications system before humanity. Whale species are millions of years older than humans, therefore the length of time this has been going on is potentially the same.

Whale songs are among the most beautiful of sounds. Here's a humpback whale: click -here-

Then the humans came. Or its better to say, then the machines came.

One day in the ocean, as the songs drifted through the water, there was a thunder. The thunder grew until it became a grinding, churning roar, severing the pace and melody of the song. Mechanized ships began to cross the oceans, first one, then, within a few decades, thousands of them. The machines unknowingly tore holes in the invisible city of the whales, a city composed not of matter, but of sound waves.

Whales, of course, are not pussies. They endure, despite all of the disrespect and contempt that the humans and the machines have shown to the true princes of earth. We laugh at such notions, that animals deserve homage reserved typically for kings and prophets. Yet it seems to me that a whale carries more grace and nobility in its demeanor than most, if not all, humans do. Maybe a human can think in a way that a whale can't, but so what? Big fucking deal. The greatness of the universe is far beyond the novelty of mere thought as much as it is greater than mere matter.

Thoughts are great, but songs might be better.

The machines, of course, are everywhere now. Among the dominant nations of the earth, the majority of its citizens haven't the faintest notion of how to build for themselves. Fewer and fewer know how to hunt, or farm. Few know how to live comfortably off the land. In greater frequency, we become more and more specialized, true pieces of the machine. This is a good system. In this way as a civilization humanity becomes less vulnerable in the event of a disaster, humanity becomes fatter and fatter.

Its not my system of course. Mine is inferior, but its better. The Tibetan Buddhists say that as long as there is any living being, there will always be a Buddha. Something will always love them, even if the last living being is an alligator. How is it possible that there will always be a buddha, even if there is but one living being left? Because the essence of living is the "buddha",

light, all of us. whales too.

The heart of things is contained within living beings, machines are just our clumsy way of echoing nature. We are turning ourselves into machines, less and less self-sufficient, not dependent on other people but on the machines, and while this is a truism, what is not considered is that there is no reason other than greed why we should have to. The machines have made it possible to contemplate the possibility of human civilization enduring for millions of years, but people of wisdom are people who are curious and learn many things, people who are struck by the greatness of living beings because they are, not for what they can do. People of wisdom will know how to dismantle the machine when we don't need it anymore, when humanity wakes up a little bit more from its survival dreams. When we can admire whales as ourselves.