What I've Learned In My Three Days Off

Actions in life have resonance.

Incredulity may prove a sad entrapment.

Integrity can evoke integration.

John Belluso: In Memorium

There is an angel looking down on me named John Belluso.
And if he's just a memory, if the pragmatist says he's "no more" (Angel? What proof? Why is he up there and you down here?), I will, instead, take John's Romantic philosophy and say: Love and Truth reign supreme. And the future is Hope.

Shelter In My Blog

   The news is always slanted,
   But slanted not to me;
   Celebrities and pedigrees
   Don't talk philosophy;
   The Great Lords are a-waitin'
   In an Abyss full of fog;
   Come on I'll give you shelter,
   Shelter in my blog.

   Of all the online places,
   No elsewhere you will see
   A witches' brew, Joe Wimpster's views,
   Personified pastry;
   Escape from corporate hell-fire
   And meet the underdog;
   Come on I'll give you shelter,
   Shelter in my blog.

   Google is addictive,
   e-harmony is wrong;
   And I tunes doesn't always seem to
   Have my favorite song;
   I'll wonder as I'm walking,  
   And wander as I log;
   Come on I'll give you shelter,
   Shelter in my blog.

Self-Portrait

It's just like looking in the mirror.

No, seriously: Have a nice day.

Black Hole

A star stops. And the black hole implodes in a dense mass of darkness.
Its event horizon is brilliant, invites awe (What looks like coral is, surprize!--carnivorous fish!).
Inside, all that is stretched speeds incomprehensibly into the future singularity.

Dinner Party

Those roots are good with the dirt still on 'em.

Witch Talk

Witches don't tuck their jeans into boots.

Two out of three witches have punched or kicked a hole in the door.

"Memory Lane" is just another way of saying "hell."

They're all trying to fit "the mold."

What's up with Failure to Launch?

Don't be a movie-whore, Dad!

Dr. Phil is hiding something (He's at the bunny ranch with Rush Limbaugh).

My cell phone started meowing in the middle of my session.

It's a crime that Steven Soderbergh remade Solaris!

Tourqouise is good with the muscle suit. What about a fanny pack?

You can take that Bust I'm done with it.

Black or white--money's green.

What's this green thing? It tastes like wasabi...

Look, I'm Amelie, playing the violin!

Those roots are good with the dirt still on 'em.

The "period movie" stayed with me for five days...

Did he really think you were going to go home with him--from the street corner?

Sometimes I get so mad!

Last Night/ This Morning

Last night I felt frightened and abandoned and acted like a needy child. I regret it.
This morning, my heart led me to the place where it is happiest, and my head did not stop its course.
I was foolish. But a pure feeling in this cruel world can be worth living for. And I was surprized to find my heart speaking its truth, unconditionally.

My Far East

   Two Haikus


   Robert De Niro:
   The American Express
   Commercial's edit.


   Watch Lou Dobbs Tonight:
   Commentary re: trade and
   Our Nation's borders.

Hallmark Holiday

Someone's having sex tonight...

White

Outside, everything is white. And the sunlight reflects off the white like a vast blanket of bounce-board.
Even when one is indoors, white light remains imprinted on the eyes like a negative or a soft lens.

mourning dove

mourning dove, mourning dove
you flew down from up above
and sang a little song for me
in which I heard conspiracy

I found myself in a blind rage
shoved you into a white cage
and you were smaller than my glove
o mourning dove, mourning dove

mourning dove, mourning dove
to take back that brutal shove
I did not think yet was headstrong
your throat was right, my ear was wrong

for you were faithful all along
so fly wherever you belong
but don't fly far now that you're free
please sing again and release me

All-One!

Last night Hecate and I went to a screening of Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap Box, a wonderful documentary Bathory edited about the eccentric soap shaman.
While I have bought Dr. Bronner's soap over the years, taken by its delightful scent and cryptically verbose label, watching the film, I was gripped by the notion that a label only goes so far in representing what can be a far greater and more complicated vision behind it.
And, as the film shows, Dr. Bronner's vision is as clear as it is opaque; as simple as it is grandiose.
Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap Box depicts a humanitarian whose life is stricken with mental illness while being graced by an idiosyncratic genius.
Losing his parents to the Nazis, Dr. Bronner left Germany for the States where for years, he was in and out of mental hospitals before he finally escaped.
His tragedy continued into the lives of his three children who, after losing their mother early in life, were basically orphaned.
What saw Dr. Bronner and his family through their respective tragedies was a shared spirit of social change and a plight to overthrow those aspects of religion which oppress and divide men.
As a child, when his father told him that "soap and politics don't mix," Dr. Bronner defied him by mixing soap and politics for his livelihood.
His story celebrates the individual, and the strength one must find in order to transcend a life of tragic circumstance.
The next time I wash with the Dr. Bronner's Magic Lavender soap I received last night from the Bronner family, I will gladly enter "spaceship earth," so long as I don't have to pick any flowers or hug anyone on board.

It Is Better To Have Loved...

It is better to have loved than to have not loved at all.
Who first spoke this tale so tall?
Who had such a sanctified wherewithal?
Who had the gumption and the gall?
It is better to have loved than to have not loved at all.

It is better to have loved than to have not loved at all.
What is Love? To whom does it befall?
Does one clearly hear its call?
Is its writing on the wall?
It is better to have loved than to have not loved at all.

It is better to have loved than to have not loved at all.
Is there freedom in Love's enthrall?
Is comfort found in its appal?
And can Love lead to one's downfall?
For when it is everywhere, it is nowhere at all.

Surprize Party

Just when I thought it was going to be just another ho-hum Monday night of stir-frying kale and watching Wife Swap with Rudy (the cat), my friends Susan Buice and Arin Crumley dropped by with two of their friends and--surprize--I was having a party!
I met Susan and Arin in Germany last September at the Oldenburg Film Festival.
When I first saw them at the festival's free cappuccino, Javer and internet center, I thought:
"Here I am, my first day in Germany, and who do I see but two young hipsters from Brooklyn!
Ridiculously young, attractive and compelling hipsters at that!"
We exchanged the Official Brooklyn Hipster "I'm so much cooler than you" look, and then soon enough, found ourselves doing the robot together to bad, early-90's euro-trance.
Throughout the festival, Susan and Arin always had a camera on them, and it was always on.1
To the degree that when they showed up at my apartment last night, I was surprized to find them camera-less (Though Arin did have a digital on him).
Their film, Four Eyed Monsters, is an artistic collage of ideas and images, which congregate in a love story based on Susan and Arin's relationship.
Four Eyed Monsters had its premiere at Slamdance last year, and has since been heralded at many festivals. In Oldenburg it had a cult-like following.
Susan and Arin are a team of adorable guerrillas; Romantic revolutionaries; innovators whose conviction has inspired me.
It was good to see them again. And it was a surprize to be having a party.
Buy the Four Eyed Monsters DVD--when you can. And fight the good fight!





1 Except for one night at a party, when a tall, blonde actress in a baby blue dress and heels fainted perfectly back into a blue stage light. I think Arin was too awe-struck to lift the camera. We all were.

Misperception

Not always, but sometimes one experiences misperception.
Sometimes it occurs in a more direct cause-and-effect way, as when one's projection is recognized and accounted for soon after.
While other times, misperception can manifest in more cryptic ways, leaving one caught in a complex web of one's own deception.
It is frustrating when one is trying to ride straight down the road of awareness, only to find one has taken a wrong turn.
When this happens to one, one may feel embarrassed or horrible. And when others are involved, one may feel more embarrassed, more horrible.
I apologize, truly, to all of you who have been involved in my misperceptions over the years, and by means of continuity, understand those misperceptions to be as such.

Feminist Rant

For Betty Friedan


When a scantly-clad Jessica Simpson approaches with pizza poppers, resist the pang of hunger in your gut for Pizza Hut brand pizza.
When accosted by images of emaciated fourteen-year-old girl models in pre-pubescent boy-poses this fashion week, get your "just escaped from the looney bin-" hag on and start yellin' in the streets.
When that older guy at work comes up behind you and gently hand-swipes your ass, kick him in the balls and send him home, crying to Mommy.
When the baby's crying, comfort it--It's a baby!
Then, when he has calmed and you are calm, explain to him that when he's older he'll really be crying!
Cause Mommy's angry. Oh yes; Mommy's angry.

Alicia's Favorite Things

Hecate and Bathory got me this lighter last summer at a headshop on Cape Cod. It's a hologram that changes from ET in the woods to a skull with a tongue, emerging from flames.
When I was in elementary school we were asked to write and draw three wishes.
Mine were as follows:

1. I wish that I had a secret land of my own.
2. I wish that my parents would never die.
3. I wish that I owned ET.

The lighter, in its own way, encapsulates all three.
One's wishes truly can come true by means of materialism!

Lost Rolling Stones Song

Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so bad
Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so bad
You're the only Mom-ma I've ever had

Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so cruel
Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so cruel
Beat up the bul-lies after school

Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so e-vil
Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so e-vil
You employ the tempting de-vil

Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so rude
Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so rude
It's a night-mare being your brood

Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so wrong
Mom-ma Mom-ma you're so wrong
You will mur-der me for this song...

Burger King King Streusel

Move over, Nun Bun! The Burger King King Streusel was discovered yesterday at baked in Red Hook, Brooklyn, causing quite a stir in this small, seafaring community.
Doesn't He look grand there on His throne of homemade marshmallows?
When I saw His Majesty yesterday morning, I did not have my camera on me.
So camera in-hand, I returned today to find He had vanished from atop His marshmallow throne!
Distraught, I scanned the baked contents of the glass counter--no scone went unturned.
Until--at last--I spotted His crown, sticking up from a row of common streusel.
I could not believe that He had not been shellaced; and no Burger King King Streusel t-shirts could be found in His kingdom.
The Barista Monk who first recognized His Majesty, happened to be behind the counter.
"Would you mind putting the Burger King King Streusel back on His throne for a picture?"
He respectfully obliged.
As he prepared my cafe con leche, I told him the tale of the Nun Bun and its tragic fate.
"Well, you don't have to steal the King. He's for sale."
So it is my great pleasure to report that while the immortal Nun Bun was stolen, the day-old Burger King King Streusel was rightfully purchased.
O Your Royal Highness: Justice has been served for all baked goods that look like someone's face!
Ye proved delicious.