"Craziness" or "brattiness.

Tonight I should be videotaping at party that is newsworthy. The cable channel 29 is looking for news for it's upcoming show
November 17th. I got upset by the host of the Bro Jud on Love Energy show. When I told him I was tired from the week, he said "Stop making excuses...your'e a flake." I won't go into details, but he expect me to make copies of his show on my dvd burner from Apple. There was a huge problem with the mini-mac I bought initially last year. Now that they've put in a new harddrive,
I have to know how to transfer data from one harddrive to another. It's a long (and boring) story.

So, instead videotaping an event tonight, I am seeing Scorcese's newest film. It's just not my thing--the whole "gangster" thing. But a friend of mine who has never been verbally abusive to me wants to see it. I'll go. I want to talk to my film history teacher about the Scorsese film. I got an Q--no, an A on the last exam. Soviet, German and French cinema. I wrote about
the French film, though I loved Eisentein (we didn't see much of him). He was a painter on the film screen.

Saved it up for this Dance.

I'm in love with my cat but won't admit it. There, I said it. Unconditional love is so alluring. Now he has lost tons of weight and
had x-rays taken at the vet today. They think it's his kidneys. They want to do ultrasound testing. I don't think the vet is right.
But, then, what do I know? If I buy him some food he really likes and he starts to throw up everywhere, it will be a test.

Well. it's only our lives. He has been a punk, too. That's kind of what I like about him. But, utimately he's very sweet. He's all black (with white hairs in his ears) with green eyes. He is lovely. He's sweet. He's always gone outside and has never lost a
cat fight. He's nine and a half years old.

Right now I'm very concerned about him. It's hard for me to see him so boney. Maybe he will live longer than anyone thought. I believe it's totally up to him. He might be ready to leave. He may want to stay. Of course, I want him to stay. But I want him
to eat!!! He has to eat at least at the same ratio that I consume fattening foods. I feel pudgey today.


From Hairs

Celestial, gleaming, starry night
With fingers crawling up and down,
A tabla is seen but not heard,
All dressed in green, the suggestion
Of indentation is still present.
Another source. Be together.

Too tired to blog?

I think that I need some rest. But it seems that everything needs my attention--RIGHT NOW. For example, one of the cats left feces stains in about 4 places near my bathroom. At work, I did some social work...after hours. At noon when I went to a cafe with one of my friends, I could have fallen asleep right there. I got a large chai and kept going! I hope that the month of November will be balanced and healthy. I tried making dahl tonight (another task--but it was good).

There's a book I haven't started for my Latin American Art class. The film text goes unread, too. I wonder what film we're going to watch tomorrow night. It happens to be GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933...OK, that's enough.

Time to lie down or do some yoga.

I have an eye infection.

Tuesday I stractched my eyelid near the inner eye area. It got infected. First it was a flat red, then a pink mound of almost
one half an inch..running down onto my inner nose. All you have to think about is what the Kilingon's look like. This creation
took about 4 days until Saturday. I went to the emergency room. Got a shot in my butt muscke (!) of antibiotic.

Now I am still dealing with it. IT itches. It burns a little. I should be resting my eyes. It looked better after I'd had some sleep.

Happy DIwali

I think it started on Friday: Diwali, the Festival of Lights and the New Year in India. It goes on for several days. I have a friend
from India who took me out to Diwali dinner. Usually Diwali is spent with family and friends. But my friend has no family here
and his car is in the shop, so he didn't feel like going down to the San Jose area to be with friends of long standing. Actually,
I've know him for almost six years.

We went to DOSA on Valencia. They serve DOSAS which are crepe-like, long and filled with vegetables. They are dipped in
some sauces. Yum.

I also went to do a video shoot and forgot to charge the camera battery. Oh well, I got 5 minutes of my friend's performance.
It was at LIfetime Books which is on Polk Street. What sweet place! It has a staircase winding down into it from the second
floor. The book emphasis is metaphysical mostly. The performance was interesting. My friend sang about Huey Newton and the Black Panther Party and then went on to Mary Magdalen.

Forgot to mention the Bridge School concert I went to last night. I loved the Trent Reznor ensemble. He has a string quartet
behind him...heavy on the cellos. Everybody else rocked hard and soft, but with Neil Young at the center of it all, the message
was often political. Yay. Does anyone think that Trent Reznor's music is political? Should there be a difference?

It was supposed to be a haiku.

I've been having trouble with blogger.com recently. They haven't posted my latest
blogs to the blog. It's weird. Can anyone explain why this is happening?

Meanwhile, I tried to change the heading with a haiku. It didn't print out the way
I wrote it. It looks kind of dumb. But maybe I should write more haiku. I miss
writing poetry.

Port of Shadows

Grey, white, black, fog
Swirls by you in fashion-
Like sweetness, a new
Flavor of obscurity.

Nelly, you stand in a
Cellophane coat. White.
You just happen to be
There at the rendevous.

He sees you and it's
Instant passion, love not
Unadorned with past surrender
And soon-to-be death.

Let's play where's the blog?

Last night I blogged about painting...sort of. I was thinking about so many things that my original idea left my mind when I sat down to write. This happens now and then and makes for a writing exercise, at the least.

I'm wondering if anyone else who blogs has found their most recent blog in another area than the actual blog. When I went into "search blog" and typed in the title "About Painting," the blog came up--by itself with my little picture in there.

Today it was really hot. I was so happy. Got to walk around the room for a while in my barefeet. Yay. Not many kids. Didn't have to go out to the recesses except in the morning. Made bats from stencils to teach color.

Tonight I need to read from some texts for my classes. Tomorrow night we'll see UN CHIEN ANDALOU which is one of my favorites. I used to love Dali. I still do, but I can't paint like that myself. I'm more of an Expressionist...black and white and colors. Tablas.

I have two choices: read about the Maya or about the technology of early sound films.

About Painting...

I was lying down on the couch and looking up at one of my old paintings on the wall. It's from 1998, and I did it in the garage of my old house I used to rent. I lost that house after having lived there for 9 1/2 years. The landlord sold it to a woman with enough money to buy it. By the time he sold it, I was painting upstairs in the dining room. That was so great. The garage could get really cold!

In any case, this painting could use some work. But I'd rather leave it as is because it's part of a gallery project sponsored by an organization that used to exist in San Francisco for people who had suffered physical and emotional abuse as a child. The place was called The Morris Center. This painting was selected as one of about 70 that
they chose in all to represent feelings of recovery and bliss.

To me the painting is unfinished. However, it does give a sense of calm. I want to take the painting down and start working on a new one RIGHT THERE. My landlord would freak. He has very inexpensive carpet on the floor, and I paint in oils. Oh well.

I've been painting in a little watercolor book. My subject matter for the past three or more years has been the two drums that make up the "tabla." To me this image allows rhythm to flow through the painting in different ways. Color has alot to with the sense of time and space, too. But painting a musical gift is fun for me since I play guitar and love to play music with other people. My tabla playing needs a lot of help now. In the old house I used to play all the time and for a short while had a trio (guitar, tabla, didjeridoo) called BHAKTI. We played at Day of the Dead in 2002 at a gallery in the city.

I feel tired. Got to get up early for work! Earlier in the evening I thought I had something to say about painting. I did, and now I'm remembering how I was going to start writing about it. Tomorrow.

Oh....Love.

Harold Pinter is a great playwrite. Whenever I forget my proper ways of conveying
meaning through this medium, I find myself often so full of it that I can't find
anything. Thank you, pinter.

To remove any suspense, I will expose the goal: to convey the deepest feelings one
can have about karma and what it feels like to always be in debt. Amma says that karma
is like having a debt to pay. Even in this life we accrue more debt. Thoughts are
what get me in trouble, I think. I'm not the kind of person to express verbally what
I'm thinking about too often. Writing used to be the best way for me to let it go--especially in high school and university. The kind of writing I do now is for
individualized education plans. I try to be objective. I don't write, "So and so is a cute 5-year-old..." Stay away from comments that subjective. The way any person looks
is a matter of opinion. Not everyone agrees that Bush looks like a liar. Do you know
what I mean? There are so many cruel people in the world that it is often very
difficult to distance oneself and ignore it all.

Oh yes. Back to karma. Debt is pretty cruel. The Buddha was correct. Dharma should be something welcome. I often consider dharma and karma the same. It seems that I'm constantly paying back as I go. Well, there's my job, for instance. Working as a schoolteacher is very difficult work emotionally and physically. This is the only profession that pays its members to take over 2 months off--paid!

Meanwhile, my love life is such shambles. I know I have to let the Moises thing go.
Tonight I went to a party where this woman who's supposed to be my friend wore one
of his set of earrings. She said, "Oh, he's a cool guy." My response was less than
casual: "There are cooler people in the world than him." The whole Love of Ganesha
crowd seem so caught up in who is holier than thou. Why do I feel so distant from them? Why do they all make me feel so lonely?

It's now close to one year since Moises and I got together. I was very vulnerable.
I hope after this past year since January that I have become less accessible than
I was last year at this time. The space between lovers was great a year ago. Such has not been the case this year, and I'm happier for it, but I lost someone, too (the eccentric guy from London). I have a friend I see now and then. I like him. He has the same birthday as I do. We are from different countries and different religious traditions. My birthday is December 24th. In this country, no one's around on the 24th. One year, about 3 years ago, I spent my birthday totally by myself the whole day and night. I wanted to do it because I never had. The birthday always had to be spent with family up until I was 30 (and beyond that) and then it's been spent with
friends.

I am digression-free now. Sorry for the interruption. This was supposed to be about Love. This is where Moises, Amma, the Argentinian guy I met today who is a friend of Moises, the woman wearing the Moises earrings, all this stuff comes up as a test. Am I over the weirdness of still thinking about someone who is a karmic test. The debt has been paid. The way I can keep the creditors at bay is to stay neutral to anything that has to do with this man. Earrings? Who cares? My love is for myself first. Being a faerie is really hard on the plane of the humans. If you've ever read THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A YOGI, you will know what I mean. The faerie world is where I've come from. It's still possible to be human and not get caught up in what
humans do to hurt themselves and others.

Using the camera.

Tonight I worked as a camera person for cable access channel 29 here in San Francisco. The show was their "open mic." What a joke. Now, I don't make fun of musicians unless they're just too stuck on themselves. Such was not the case with this group. They were humble people playing instruments. There was a female impersonator singing to a couple of songs on cd. There was a guy who imitated Jeff Buckley's style of singing who wasn't too difficult to listen to. But Randi and Jack of the trusty Bargain Basement Band stole the show in terms of heart. Randi does not have a good voice. But she can wail like Janis and was around when Janis was around. She sings songs about people taking over their governments and leading themselves. She sings about medical cannabis. She herself has mild cerebral palsy.

I don't know. I guess I had fun playing with the camera and getting a good shot. But I hope that next time there will be some variety in the musical people represented. The guy who soloed played in the band the last time. And the jazz band had the same bass player that played the last time. The only women represented was Randi.

This past weekend I went to a show because I was invited by friends. I saw John Mayer, Sheryl Crow and Marjorie Fair. I liked Marjorie Fair best. The commercial sounds of the other two didn't move me. Marjorie Fair sings about life with underdistorted guitars. They had put together some lyrics which one could relate to.

Tonight I heard and saw Kurdestani music.

What does it mean to say that you "saw" music? You cut it in half (no, fifths)? Have you ever heard Kurdestani music? I saw the film CROSSING THE BRIDGE set in Turkey and about Turkish music. (There is one Kurdestani musician represented.)

Tonight I was supposed to usher at Cowell Theatre in Fort Mason with my friend. She kind of gets on my nerves sometimes. It's probably the fact that she says weird, under-handed, competitive comments that makes it so. Now, I realized when I got home (I never went to the bathroom while I was at the theatre) that my butt-cleavage was showing most of the evening.

Perhaps I was inspired to wear my clothes thusly because I was so full of desire. There were many men I find attractive at this event. I met the first one backstage. At first, we had to sit with a man from Persia, and he and my friend were talking politics and he was using the word "us" for Ablurrika and my ears were literally begging for prozac until my friend found out we could go backstage and eat the food for the musicians before the show.

"Do you play doumbek?" I heard a woman ask someone to whom my back was turned. He answered her that he did play a drum. I was fascinated by that and the fact that his spirit was so open, so faerie-like, that I was confused. He was in his early thirties with shoulder-length wavy hair. I had never met anyone from Turkey nor had I met someone who whose culture was also Kurdish. This was all too much. He gave me this really genuine smile and I sort of let loose this snarly smile that I never encountered in or on myself before. What was this about?

So, as I sat and heard the lecture before the concert, I pondered my earlier ghastly behavior. The lecture was given by one of the musicians who described the soul of the music and a particular song's message. One of the songs was prescriptive for human interaction: soul meets soul and repects it on that deepest level. Later on, I was talking to a person who was working there and said that I thought Ablurrikans were the most self-indulgent in terms of bad moods and being unfriendly. He agreed with me. I'm looking for a discussion.

Still processing the ashram.

I read the post from last weekend pre-ashram visit. Forgot to mention the good things. There was a spot on the floor for me to sit and meditate. When the bhajans started, I was dancing as a sat. It felt so relieving. My meditation was on joy: the bliss of freedom from worry or care but still involving them in the process of being in the moment. Perhaps that was what was so helpful about this time. I really stayed in the place where I went in my mind and that was where I was.

It really helped when I had to talk to the old lover who is a young guy from Nicaragua. What he told me didn't bother me, but he seemed so ready to jump on my balloon when when I talked about some of my housemate problems. He's living in a commune. He sleeps with someone different every other night. At least I don't even have to say hello to this housemate who is one of 3 that I live with; four people and three cats.
But, in any case, I was happy with myself that I didn't trip or wonder about this person anymore. I saw another guy I kissed AT the ashram back in 2002. He is from Montreal but has been in this area off and on. He said "Hi" and that was all that was good...seeing the soul of the other person and greeting it.

The ride back to San Francisco was fused with talk of free and fun sex at Burning Man. One of the guys from Love of Ganesha (is it a coincidence that he's from Paris?) was recounting all the woman he had sex with in the desert. There were also the women who wanted to have sex with him. He and my friend were talking sex. Amma
knows there are many forms of love.

I heard "Blonde on Blonde" for the first time.

I just wrote a long blog on my hair and what I like about this cd and Nada Surf. But it wouldn't publish it...I'll try again

I wrote a blog, but they wouldn't publish it

I heard "Blonde on Blonde" for the first time.

My hair is faux blonde. It is pretty long, and I have alot of fun with it occasionally. Gone are the days of really fun hair--for the moment. Everyone's trying so hard to make their hair stay closer to their heads. Why have hair? It can be annoying. I'm having one of those I hate my hair days. I wish I had greasy, thin, straight hair. Instead I have very thick, dry slightly wavy hair. BOring.

Meanwhile, tonight I tried to spend some precious moments not thinking about my job and listened to Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde." I kept hearing about it when I would listen (in my car--which was very often) to Nada Surf's eponymous cd. "I've got 'Blonde on Blonde' on my portable stereo. It's a lullaby from wonder woman's radio..." So, I listen to it, and I found it ethereal. Dylan's voice often sounds the same, but the rhythms and melodies don't. They all have something in common: their layered, suggesting other worlds and existences.

I have the flu.

I don't know what it is. I either feel like sleeping or overdoing it. There is a child in my Special Education classroom who has
a constant repiratory infection. He is also quite cognitively impaired. But he does walk and knows how to get what he wants from adults!

In any case, most people in the class have had this cold/flu. They all have gotten a cold. I always get a really achey body flu. I'd rather have a stuffy head than all these body aches.

Why am I writing? Maybe it's because I missed Psychic Horizons tonight because I'm sick and I have to sit and meditate instead of writing all this boring stuff that I write. Today I read about the film THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI. I saw this film when I was
an Art student. In the context of Freud and the Expressionists and the whole German Gestalt, one can imaging that this film pre-sages the rise of a madman like HItler.

Today is the birthday celebration for Amma at the ashram.

Amma's birthday is actually September 27th. The ashram is having a birthday celebration. Back in 2003, I went to her 50th
birthday event which was very well-attended in Cochin, near where Amma's ashram in India is situated. At that time, there were
few people there. I think many people actually went to India. In any case, there will be quite a few people there tonight. I am glad that Amma is becoming more recognized thanks to the film DARSHAN and the news media.

Tonight I am driving friends up to the ashram. It is a bit of a drive. The anticipation of finding peace at the ashram will be there. Hopefully I will remain peaceful within as I can. This week was a total nerve-blower. Fortunately, yesterday I got a
treatment for my neck at my physical therapists' place. She recommended dancing! Somehow my mind is not in that place where I want to jump around, so I've been listening to music that penetrates the inner self and nerves.

In addition, I've had to deal with the fact that there is still a roommate in this house who makes me uncomfortable. He has done many things to make me feel invalidated. It's difficult, but I'm holding my aura steady. (I may have to do that at the
ashram--one never knows!)

Meanwhile, I want to complain (sorry, Amma) that I have received three overtures from women to my craigslist posting for a MAN. This has never happened until the past couple of months. It really bothers me. I'm wondering why it bothers me so much. Has this ever happened to a man who has posted to craigslist personals? Maybe it's just weird to me that a woman would look in the personals where women are searching for men. Perhaps there are too many gambling shows on TV...you
know, those poker ones? Everyone's trying to get what they want--if it means playing a dumb game with oneself.

I'm ambivalent but in need of some fun.

I had been seeing a guy from India for the past month on Friday nights. It was actually kind of fun because neither one of us
knew what to make of the other. He is making 3 times what I make, he gets to work when he wants and tends to work at night.
I have to get up at 7:30; I am not an early riser.

If Sanjay had been more--of a listener than a talker, maybe we could have gotten together more easily. I'm not really loquacious at all, but I do prefer to have someone listen to what I'm saying than talking over me. Such was Sanjay. I'll miss him until I meet someone equally different from me who makes me laugh.

The time for homework.

So many good students find time to do their homework. I suppose I am a really bad student. There are 6 chapters that should have been read by now for my Film History class, and I've read about 5 pages. The topic is basically film from 1894 to 1945. I took the class in Spring semester and the history followed the period of 1945 to the present. This class was more fun for me.

American history is quite boring. But the formation of the star system and the use of the camera in film is something we have studied. And, of course, how actors and actresses came to earn so much money. So much of American cinema from this period is propaganda. Duh, you say.

What people you think you know send you in an e-mail.

How many people have received an e-mail from someone they thought they knew in the spamblocker? I usually never check earthlink's spamblocker. I had been getting such slutty, funny, silly mail before I asked them to conduct their spamblocker on my mail. I assumed that they would just pick off the ugly stuff from someone's best pal and that would be it for that. But no, the spamblocker only stills (still talking about it) everyone's mail who isn't in my contacts list. How simple for earthlink.

Meanwhile I was looking at the 9 blocked mails in one raid and saw a familiar name. Now, I don't know this woman very well. She is the kind of person one wonders what role she is playing all the time...all the time. She is an Amma devotee. That is not how I know her. I know her from a meditation place.

In any case, she sent me a message from St. Theresa that I were to pass on (i.e., forward) to 11 people--right awayayayay! Then I would be granted some special wish.

There was only time in which a "friend" sent me "this will happen if you do this" message and it did happen. The weird karmic thing is that just as he was calling me I was on the Internet (this was four years ago). I was berating him for not calling me. He had already fucked up with me before when he stayed to talk to a very young woman while my friends and I stood outside waiting for him. He was getting her phone number.

Little Miss Sunshine

Tonight I'm going to go see the film "Little Miss Sunshine." I've heard people say they like it, but I don't know why. Maybe I'll look for some of the things that I've seen in the Film History class, like matching action...

Freedom vs. It's Antithesis

What does it mean to feel free? I returned to my paid work as a Special Education teacher of children with severe disabilities. For the first time in years we have a student with cerebral palsy who has superb cognition. SFUSD used to have a special department for screening children and putting them in appropriate classes. Now, they just stick them in a classroom and let the teacher and staff figure the kid out...what kind of class does the kid need, what kind of things to do and whether augmentative communication would be an emphasis in the kid's education.

This week work was extremely tiring. Our new children (5-year-olds) our somewhat messy (i.e,, don't know how to sit at a table and eat with a spoon or whatever. Too many messes to clean up for me. Can't really complain too much. The week wasn't that bad except for the fact that I kept having all this anxiety about waking up on time. I admit to being a person who likes to sleep after the sun rises. It's extremely hard for me to wake up early.

I also have two night classes. Tuesday's was fascinating because we had a guest speaker on the Azteca/Mayan calendar still used in Mexico. It had astrological connotations and natural things for "signs" just like in Chinese astrology. But this calendar has "flower," "snake," "jaguar."

This has been a fun weekend. I've spent alot time working and talking with Jud. We're thinking about doing a half-hour show on cable tv at night.

The Libertine

So, it seems that the previous blog of great length was not meant to be printed. That's really for the best. No one wants to hear someone else's "story" over the period of a year. It's boring. The present is where we are. And at this moment I am wishing that I had had more fun this summer. Or, I wonder, did I have fun and I'm unwilling to give it up ? There was freedom every day to do what I wanted to do. Duh.

Anyway, let's go back to yesterday. Last night I had the pleasure of watching Johnny Depp in "The Libertine." It starts with a view of the Earl of Rothschild (Depp) introducing himself and how unlikable he is. The year is around 1660 (Dryden's time) and Charles has already had his head chopped off and England has already had its revolution. The Earl's name is John Wilmot and is called Johnny. I'd like to discuss this film.

Is there something wrong with this Mac?

I just wrote a really long and personal blog and blogger couldn't publish it. I'll try again

Sunday, and the "end" of the weekend.

TOday is SUnday. I'm still supposed to be on "vacation." I will return to work on the required day of Wednesday. Many of the women (and, perhaps, the two men) have already been to their classrooms to work on them. Last year I had to change classrooms, so I came in two weeks early. Last year I was happier. Or the thought of what my job entails didn't bother me at all. I had some freedom. Jeremy had just visited me from London. He and I had e-mailed each other for two years until he came out to visit San Francisco and me. Jeremy told me that if I wanted to chuck the job he had more than enough in his house in East London. I was covered! I didn't really want to think that it wouldn't be possible for me to move to London like that with a man I barely knew. But there was security in it somehow.

Even though I"ve had a few lovers since Jeremy, no one has connected with me in the same way: staying available by e-mail and phone even though not in person. All a fantasy. Can't forget about the biblical figure (Moises). I'm doing very well with this one. The karma is lifting, albeit like a torn blanket of fog. His girlfriend came into the meditation room where I was sitting this past Friday late afternoon. She was smiling at me like she knew me very well or had me pre-calculated. There was a strange awareness this woman had of my presence. All I could think was, "Oh no, this means he coming in here soon to meet her. Better get out!" I'm trying to avoid painful situations or ones that have the potential to put me in a frame of mind in which I feel less than and invalidated. Perhaps that is why I don't want to go back to "work." I hope the sun shines all day tomorrow and that I can get a sunburn so that I can recall my trip to the Yucatan for the day.

I saw some work by Chas. Chaplin

Tonight I saw "The Kid" (1921) by Charlie Chaplin. Also viewed was a BBC documentary on the "Unknown..." How wonderful it must be to love what you are doing. There were over 183 takes done on one scene, with the camera card stating ;'"Chas.Chaplin" 186' and more like that. He rarely wrote a script. Much was improvised with such subtle humor at times that the datedness of vaudeville or the "music hall" (the British version and where Chaplin got discovered when he came to this country.

This was actually the first time I had ever watched a Charlie Chaplin film. The documentary made him and his work methods mesmerizing. His creativity was flooding the film world and the images the world watched.

The Fog and the need for more chai.

Today was the first day I had this house all to myself and the three cats. It's been odd and it's been somewhat productive. It is odd that I would even have the house to myself all of this vacation (in which I've been driving, driving, only driving). There is one housemate who works at night but is always around during the day. In any case, this is a first.

Meanwhile, I hope the ghosts were helping me today. I'm not sure, because my macmini would load video footage all of a sudden. And so there are these very interesting still-moving shots--just a few, but they're good and they're when Pablo comes in. That's all I'll give of my video project.

Wow, I've got to do the Bro Jud on Love Energy shoot tonight. It is a truly foggy, sleepy day outside. I feel like putting this thing in my hair that makes me look like I have little thee inch wings coming out of the top of my head. Perhaps I have drunk too much chai and have let my hair reveal my state, as it is.

Leonard Cohen

Tonight I saw the most recent documentary on Leonard Cohen. I went over to Berkeley to see it, because it wasn't playing in the city yet. A friend of mine who lives in Berkeley went with me and this person also wrote songs and sang in bands in the punk era in San Francisco. So, of course, we were both huge lovers of Leonard Cohen's poetry and music.

My friend said that when Leonard was living as a Buddhist monk he had someone entrusted with his money. Apparently, the man whom Leonard trusted stole his money instead. The film may be a way of getting some of his money back. Mel Gibson was one of the produces of the film, and it is set in Sidney and in New York.

Basically it comprises a group of musicians who were mostly Canadian--like Cohen. Those guys from Ireland were in on it, too. Bono the poet/savior (I like him, I'm just playing) and his band are interviewed often and play with Leonard Cohen at The Slipper Room in New York City live.

Not a whole lot about his childhood was covered...just his father's death, and the time he began to write and think about writing.

I hope this film does well in theatres. It was shot for tv, so the faces are a bit bigger than you might see in an actual film. I loved the red bubbles/lights.

A Kind of Buddhist Meditation

Tonight I went to my friend's flat to meditate with intention. The first thing we did was decorate the scene:; gigantic beeswax candles, Tao pieced little candles, food, a whole corner of a room which is an altar to many gods. We had all made some kind of something to eat. I made Indian curry with Thai coconut sauce with cauliflower and all the peppers the sweet peppers.

After eating, we began to write on pieces of paper our intentions: things to let go of. We threw them in a bowl with some wax which took the intention into its flame. I noticed that the flame grew higher during different people's intention's burning. We had to put a metal plate over the top of the bowl when the flames were really insistent.

All was saved and it was time to talk. Different topics were brought up. But the most powerful meditation was coming up for me: the four corners meditation. We started facing north, and then someone rang out from a singing bowl to start movement to the next directions. I had many and various thoughts pass through in meditation: especially in the east and south. I was wondering if this might have something to do with the planetary alignment in my chart. I am for pronoia.

The Club Deluxe

Tonight I went to see two friends perform at an open mic at the Club Deluxe on Haight and Ashbury. It was a pretty charming event. The presence of so many different strands of people in one place was truly great. I felt bad when I started calling out to my friend when the guy with the requisite knit hat and plaid shirt was giving his poetic piece. Yes, this is a venue for poets. And there were many poets there. One of my friends did a frenzied recalling of the coming of Mary Magdalene. The crowd was with her. The crowd was with everybody.

And, my other friend wrote an inspired poem with the chorus: "and the fashion/is love and compassion." Hooray.

Breakfast on Pluto

Today I went to the 4Star to rent a movie. My friend and part-owner Jamie was there. He was helping me pick something out. I had wanted to rent "The Libertine" but it's always out when I want to rent it.

So Jamie and I went throught the 4star-recommened videos, and I had seen "Junebug," "Benny and Joon" and others. Too bad at this moment I can't remember the name of the film he recommended from this section. It was a British film about two loverr in their forties... Then he leaned over to "Breakfast on Pluto" which has quite an appealing, kind of techno-psychedelic cover.

The film is Irish (by Neil jordan) and, I was told, had some IRA scenes. So far all I've seen is the life story of an Irish queen/transgender person. Now, of course, withing the Irish world sexual choices have always been heterosexual, so I was taken aback when the main character was different from others in terms of physical representation and life choices. It's actually fun to watch these Irish people not really go beserk or even do anything but whisper to one another. In this film, at lest, Ireland is shown to be a more integrated socieity somehow.

Oh, now the guns are mentioned. It must be IRA time. More on this later...

the news is on...

The news is on right now. I never read or listen to it. But i just can't get this bologna about a "civil war" In Iraq. When do the
lies and misconceptions end?

Today Bro Jud was showing me a "teaching video" with the topic being "how to argue." Excuse me, but the assumptions made when going from large to small in epistemological terms is always overwhelmed by the largeness. Did all those people really
vote for Bush?

And, I ramble, I quote, "Hezzobollah is hit, and then hit, but won't go away." Why not make Israel the 52nd state (after Puerto
Rico).
""

"Drawing Restraint"

I'm so tired tonight. For the first time in over a month I got up before 12 noon. I got up at 10 a.m. There was a lot to do today. The main part of it--i.e., two hours of it, was dedicated to watching Matthew Barney's "Drawing Restraint" at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It is free to get in to see this film. Be ready to follow image after floating image. The primary setting for the film is the sea and two ships. But then in any Matthew Barney work I've seen there have been many scenes, many mise en scene. I will write more about it later. I encourage anyone to go see it. There were children under 12 there!

To be or not to be a Francophile.

A friend of mine gave me a Merchant/Ivory film called "Le Divorce." I can't really understand why it was so bad, but then when I
think about Paris and what a Parisian flat would look like and etc., it was all too weird. Alot of it was shot in studio and then the street scenes were filmed in France.

There was so little to the plot line that Paris is really the star. In the end, everyone is happy, even those who got divorced. He gets his Soviet mistress and she (oh, I forgot to mention there are two sisters, both American at the heart of the story) is left to a new French guy who doesn't look at all like her husband. I think this film was made for Barbara Streisand.

It's been so long since I've blogged.

July 4th I cleaned a friend's toilet and surrounding areas. July 5th I thought of an old karma bum of mine. The 11th brougt the full moon and attempts to read from Amma but a better sense of "Pee Wee's Playhouse.' But today, July 14th, I saw a film that I thought rocked very hard in so many ways.

That film is "Crossing the Bridge--The Sound of Istabul." It was narrated and by Alex Hacke, the bass player for Einsturzende Neubauten. I saw them play at the Fillmore in summer of 2000. Now I was seeing this guy playing music with some very esoteric Turkish musicians. The film takes off to reveal so many aspects of Turkish music, for example the fact that one may find a 5/8 beat pattern or a 1/3 1/3 3.

If you've heard of Mercan Dede, you've heard of one of the more well-known experimental/house/beat in Turkey. A well-known rapper was interviewed. He sees rap as a political vehicle more than sounds about sex, violence and gangster stuff. Ah, this film had so much depth in showing the people of Turkish music from the street musicians to the Turkish elite of music. Even Kurdish music and that Romany were heard.

"The Break Up" and "Keeping up with the Steins"

We who go the cinema often find ourselves surprised to see films that are somewhat incategorical. Genre? Yes. But category? No. How can one define "category"? It's really a kind of gothic word with some French mixed in. But definition? Who cares, I can't find exactly the right word to describe the fact that some films are on the actual viewing stupid and then yet with some value as a film? Who would like to debate this one? If I could summon up the Heidegger in me I would try but I don't have a dictionary at hand.

In any case, I saw the two films listed above at the Balboa Theatre which often puts together two films with similar styles or themes. I want the day to return, though, when the Balboa showed "Keep to the River on your Right" with Mike Leigh's "Secrets and Lies."

The two films in question, though, "The Break Up" and "Keeping up with Steins" were silly movies with silly people and comedic potential...possibly. There were few laughs in "The Break Up." It was structurally as a film quite sound yet without any depth. I suppose when Jennifer Aniston is in a film she will always be tan no matter the season or place. Vince Vaughn's character is a quandry. You might know what I mean if you've seen pictures of him.

That statement makes me just as 'shallow' as one of the girls in the Hebrew school of "Keeping Up with the Steins." A bar mitzvah party on a cruise ship? ,,,in Dodger's Stadium? ....Darryl Hannah as a hippie wonderwoman?--these are the aspects of this film that one might find funny. I really liked the performance of the boy whose family is trying to keep up with those Steins in the bar mitzvah party arena. Some might find the reunion of the grandfather with his son simply amazing but the film's
main event is rather miraculous.

Bumperstickers.

Driving around San Francisco and the rest of the area I've seen some pretty funny bumperstickers. Most people either wallpaper their cars with them or have one or two discreetly placed. Today I saw someone with a reticent bumpersticker. It was in the driver's side window of his newish car and was not placed so that it could be read well. Anyway, it read:

BU(little LLs)SH(little it).

I don't think I'd seen this one before. I really liked it. I wanted to ask him to place it in a place in which it would be really legible.

Sam Lowry, or Isaac in metallic silver over Brazil.

For some reason, this evening I wanted to rent a film that would either be about music ("Scumrock" was my first choice here),
love (I couldn't finish watching "The New World"--or whatever it is called), sheer genius or otherwise funny. SO, I decided to rent at my favorite video store (no, not Leather Tongue, even though I like them and maybe should have some alternate video store choices) The Four Star, Terry Gilliam's "Brazil."

Orwell's "1984" is a must read for everyone. Often, we don't want to be reminded of it. This weekend I went to see the '70's band Heart put on the hits and play some other people's songs at Konocti Harbor up north in the most bizaare area of northern California: Clearlake. It was blazing hot and beautiful with a plague's worth of bugs flying around on stage as Ann Wilson sang with her usual sweetness. Some eight or nine women sat a few rows ahead with penis-studded fairy ears.

I could go on about the concert. Is that their original guitar player who plays with them? Probably not, right, since when he was introduced it wasn't like he was recognized or anything. It was really Ann and Nancy and some very good musicians around them. They covered a Tom Petty song and two Zeppelin songs. I was hoping that they'd play some of their deeper material, but they went for the rock hard '70's sound. They deserve a musical dvd for distribution.

"The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie"

To dream or not to dream, that is the question in this surrealist funhouse. It was such a weird film. At center is the Ambassador of "Miranda." He is Spanish, and 'miranda' means "seeing." I love all this convoluted stuff in a film. It is the ultimate dream state. I haven't remembered a dream in its entirety for months and months. In this film by Luis Bunuel, almost everyone has a dream--except the women. They are there to make commentary on the men and help out now and then.

Remember they are the bourgeiosie and therefore must be held up to ridicule. In one scene the three ladies are in a cafe and the waiter tells them at different moments that there is no more tea, there is no more coffee nor milk nor herbal tea. This film even comments on marijuana. The Ambassador and some military men as well as one of the ladies sit around and smoke pot. Was this a dream?

I'd never heard of a "Junebug" until...

I rented a video of this film from my local bazaar of video, "Four Star Video." Kind of a retro name, but who really cares as long
as there is a wide selection of genres and internationally-made videos. Such is this "Four Star." They had put a hand-drawn telephone-type "star" next to the markered posting of this video. I thought, "I've looked around and all the films that I would have wanted to have seen have been rented.

There's the story of the actual desire to watch a film I'd never heard of nor a bug (I like bugs) I'd never seen in a magazine.
I won't tell the story but the film has something to do with love, art, mental acuity, love, the art business, personal desire and the desire of another.

What I really liked the most about this film is the theme song by the band Yo La Tengo which I saw play here live in 1996 or something like that. The song is as lovely as love. I really recommend this film. Although I think here are some flaws in the actual presentation of conflicts between humans in a coupled situation, the film's like lingering in the woods and the jumpcuts that Nature provides.

"Happy Endings"

Tonight my friend and I rented a film: "Happy Endings." On the cover of the cd is a photo of a woman's back and a towel wrapped atop the buttocks. For some people, this film might seem like soft porn. However, it's is far from porn and
closer to barbecued corn.

This film deals with relationships in a multi-colored world. At times I was taken away by the cinematographic effects--long shots through green-grayish rooms with a certain blue. These colors dominate the film, giving its edge, its biosphere.

There are multiple relationships in this film, too. There is a portrayal of a male gay relationship. Laura Dern plays a lesbian.The parts of the story revealed by dialogue are instead typed onto the screen, while letters on black. I actually haven't seen this device used since the silent movies.

Maybe I'm not giving it a better review. It does provide ensemble acting in that the characters become interconnected in some way. There are no major Hollywood stars in it to wreck it. Yay.

What more I hate about money.

Someone said "there's no free ride." I think most Buddhists would agree. However, how would a Hindu (and many and all other spirituals beliefs respond?

Thank you for not puking.

There was really not much to see this evening in San Francisco at its film theatres. Foreign Cinema had "La Dolce Vita" and I kind of wanted to "Evita" (for history's sake) at the Castro, but instead we went to see a ''funny movie": "Thank you for not Smoking." Perhaps I intuited that I'd have some nauseous feelings about the film just from it's title. Smoking makes me want to barf. The thought of it and all the ugly accoutrements to it prohiblit a fun viewing experience.

Nonetheless, there were some moments that were actually funny. It's so odd that films have that effect on movie-goers at the same time--but not really. I remember when I saw Monty Python's "Life of Brian" i laughed so hard throughout the film, practically. this film is full of wry humor but does have the fun laugh-out-loud, yay, now I'm having fun kind of humor--often enough.

I suppose it had its social commentary in tow. The anti-hero is a lobbyist for huge tobacco corporations. He is reprehensible figure, but he has this beach-bum-used-to-be sentiment. He's just another believer in the possible is probable and that terrorists are are the winners of the fear-of-the-mnnth club award.

The film was called "Water."

I got some spam from my latest blog posting, so I checked the blog to see if it came out o.k. Actually, I had totally misrepresented the film I saw. It's title is "Water." It is part of Deepa Mehta's kind of (I hope) ayurvedic view of the earth and the body.

"White"

Having seen Deepa Mehta's "Fire" and "Earth," I was wondering if I could sit through the whole of her film: "White." When I can go to the bathroom during a film and not feel I'm missing much, then I can safely say that I wasn't as much into the film than I would have wanted to be.

The film was shot with sets made for all the ghat and home scenes. Sri Lanka was where it was shot. The Ganges did not probably look that clean--even in 1938, which is the time frame for the film. The landscape--and particularly the water scenes--is pristine and forgiving. It is the law which is at stake. Maya plays apart in all of it. I'm not having any problems with the the themes of the film: woman's vs. man's rights, the laws making a widow a virtual shut-in and unable to marry again, etc.

Karma plays a large role in any film in about with without India. The chances of a widow falling in love again are explored--especially when the widow lost her beloved at age 9. This role is played by an Anglo-ish woman. It had me confused. This woman spoke great Hindi, so she might had one Indian parent. But she kept reminding me of the woman who gets most of the lines in the tv show 'Lost.'

The young girl of five who has just become a widow and the young lawyer are believable characters. The little girl does a really sweet job with the role. I suppose my main reason for having some sort of issue with the film was its melodramic leanings. When melodrama was absent, real substance could be run into.

"Ali: Fear Eats the Soul"

Last we met on the page I wrote of commenting on the Fassbinder film "Ali: Fear Eats the Soul." It uses Brecht's Verfremdungseffekt to its best. The actors are merely humans standing or sitting, dancing or eating, sitting in the rain at an outdoor cafe, chatting in the cylindrical staircase, sitting in a deserted restaurant while the waiter looms above. These are characters, Brecht would say. They are humans playing humans, asking the viewer to remind him or herself of the need to suspend belief.

More later...

This evening I watched a little of Comedy Central's political show, "The Daily Show." What does anyone get out of this show? It showed Bush as a comic strip character, "The Decider." I think ignoring him completely and calling him the "Incorporator"--in other words, "corporation" has become the "incorporators" have become the "take-overers." Or, if you want to appeal to a meat-eating crowd, the "left-overs."

All that film allows.

Tonight I had my History of Film post-1955 class. Last week we watched "Ali: Fear Eats the Soul" (1974) by Fassbinder. This film is related to the two films we saw tonight: "Far from Heaven: (2002) by Todd Haynes and "All that Heaven Allows" (1955) by Douglas Sirk. I was a bit annoyed by the fact that we had to see the 2002 film in its entirety instead of the 1955 one. I saw the trailers on television for the 2002 film and I knew I didn't want to see it. Then tonight I'm stuck watching in this class. What a bore! Sorry to anyone who feels strongly about "Far from Heaven." The film had two many holes in it for me to sit through, but I did sit through it with meditation and other positive calming techniques.

I'll write more about "Ali: Fear Eats the Soul" later. It was shot in just 14 days!! There is so much beauty to it without the reliance on technicolor symbolism. Its colors are authentic, untainted. It's day; it's night. It doesn't really matter, because the colors are untainted.

It's about space.

Last night I had the very unpleasant experience of having to sit with two of my housemates and the landlord in a discussion
about the complaints of a fourth housemate who declined to be in attendance. It was truly the case of who is more of a nutbar than whom...chocolate, caramel, nougat, etc. The landlord, a Polish guy who wants to remain a "roommate" and is therefore suspect of being a Snicker's, looked around the house and found nothing dirtier than the ordinary kind of dirty. Apparently, this fourth silent housemate had called the landlord and complained about dirty dishes, bathroom, etc. Was this a place for a
Toblerone?

Tonight I am thinking about the idea of pronoia. Mr. Brezny's conception of the universe. It works very well for me. The universe is supportive. The universe means us all well. We are living out our karma, primarily. It's about space. It's about personal space and the projection of the massive into the tiny.

Blogger wants me to blog.

I've tried to write a few sentences a few times now and realize that I'm too tired to say anything myself. Blogger wants me to continue, so I will.
I will type something from "The Stanislavsky System:"

The Stanislavsky System follows the laws of nature. In life, concentration is not isolated from the human act. Therefore, concentration should not be practiced separately from an action. Fulfill an action with adequate concentration. Always build the circumstances in which actions are fulfilled, possibly based on an analogous situation in your life. Know what you do, why you do it, where, when...

'The Four Hundred Blows' and auteur theory

I have left for myself tonight to work on a paper for my class in Film History. The topic I chose was how does auteur theory apply to the work of Truffaut and two of his films: 'The 400 Blows' and 'The WIld Child.' Both of these films have children in starring roles with Truffaut himself playing 'the doctor' in 'The Wild Child.' Auteur as doctor...as teacher...scientist?

This is helping me to start thinking in terms of how to write about film which can be narrative and Beckett-like. Truffaut watched thousands of films and was a film critic before he became a director, an auteur. He is such a perfectionist. Even his English in 'The Wild Child' is well-pronounced without the slightest accent of French. Supposedly he felt he had difficulty with English.

The brain and the stars and autism and that...

I am very lucky that a task that was required of someone two times was only asked of me once. Every teacher in the school where I work was required to decorate/create interesting hallway billboards..elementary style and to do two of them. I know that every teacher in the school knows what a hard time I'm having this year. They don't care that I'm the only one not doing two billboards but only one.

The brain and 'ability awareness' came to mind when thinking about how to approach this project. Since the majority of students in my room are 'on the spectrum,' otherwise known as having some degree more or less of autism. Neuroscience became my topic. It doesn't matter that the board is in the kindergarten area. The fourth and third graders pass by it. I'm hoping it will stimulate someone into studying the brain of a child with cerebral palsy or autism. Dividing the brain up into jobs, as it were. The occipital lobe governs vision, for instance. We have a child in the school who is blind. He is learning to use the cane stick for walking. Kids must wonder what it must be like to be blind and they have no concept of what autism might mean as well as cognitive 'impairment.'

Tonight I went out to buy teacher border decorations. I found some cool, colorful stars with green clovers--no, there were just stars of all hues with glitter inside. I think after this one they may never ask me to do one again! This one will be an eye-popper. There will even be a huge eye on it. Some of the information I got from www.sciencebob.com.

Taxes and the why-forever-for?

Many cities in the U.S. don't have sales tax. San Francisco has an almost 10% tax on everything--including cell phone usage. This weekend and for some part of this week I have had to deal with the tax miasma. I'm not seeing the benefits of these taxes. This money is being spent on military items: nuclear warheads, bombs of all sorts and components, artillery and etc.

So tonight I will pick up my taxes over in Berkeley and see a friend who doesn't want to watch my Truffaut film. So I will go over there and deal with being there and wishing I could go to the ashram. Unfortunately, the ashram experienced mud slides this week that would prevent people from coming tonight. They're holding the meditation at a school nearby to the ashram. Since I'm depressed about going back to work at an elementary school, I can't face going to a school tonight. So, I'm in the words of one of my ashram friends, "I'm taking care of business." Busy-ness. Maybe I'll try to make it a meditation rather than a drudge.

An up-to-date look at my vacation.

Time spent mainly wanting in sleep. Very tired. Everything's a chore. Shot some video today. I learned that I have still so much to learn about videography. How to place to the figure in the shot with the best camera angle to the light. Etc.

Did I mention I saw the film version of 'Tristram Shandy''? It was very past post modern as it tried to re-create its subject/story.

Now I will return to Antoine Doinel in another of his film debuts. Somehow I feel that I have to return some energy to my spiritual nature and guidance by watching a video of Amma so I can return it to the person who bought it. Actually, I'm very angry that I have to go to the school where I work Friday morning at 11 a.m. to help a parent get a wheel-chair our of the building. In nine years of working at the place, this has never happened on my vacation. I went to the school today (Thursday)
to help self-same parent, but the custodian was at some meeting at another site so we couldn't get in.

I feel this vacation has been full so far. Full like my tummy. I going out to eat and to clubs a little. It feels like I'm visiting friends I haven't seen for a long time because I'm catching up with them. They think I should look for other jobs. I know I should look for another job. Would someone help me find another job?

KPFA and my sense of the 'news'

While I was driving over to Berkeley today, I should have been listening to KPFA. My new car cd player defaults to the radio, and
so I do tend to listen to it more than I usually might. I find KPFA's perspective to be very close to my own, so I don't have to
bother my mind and emotions by listening to a radio show I don't agree with or makes me uneasy.

Tonight I finished 'Stolen Kisses' (;'Baisers voles'). I watched it in three or four different segments. The film is episodic somewhat and in many ways brilliant. Relationships are once again features. I love French films for this reason: most of it still
is a kind of realism that has philosophical overtones. One can't forget that 'Stolen Kisses' was made in 1968. Truffaut is not
widely held as a policial/socio-economic/community-spirited type of artist. But there is social commentary along with the fact
that the bosses wife gets her way and sleeps with him--once. He moves on/back to the girlfriend he has had since the beginning. In having watched Truffaut's 'The English Girls' I would say he has certain ideas about beauty that are not hard to
miss. Perhaps his political stance has something to do with his predictable choice of feminine beauty representatives: Michelangelos's Venus pops out of her shell at me.

I also worked at my friend's shop for the Internet on getting images of the brain, eyes, mouth, cerebral palsy, autism, etc. These pictures will be part of my contribution to a bulletin board in the hallway of the school. I decided not to dumb down to the students but really give the older ones somthing to think about.

I should be on vacation somewhere in Asia. Instead I am working! Still I'm enjoying have the emotional and spiritual space to create new things in my life.

The wanting some space and renting a room.

I bought some stargazers for the full moon. From my Thai friends, I found out this is also Thai New Year. They are so beautiful, these flowers. This full moon feels very powerful. Ways of relating are changing and evolving and de-volving, but
relationships are definitely dazzlingly lit for this full moon period.

My the wind in my mind wants to wander. I've watched at least one film per day, and topping off so far at two in the theatre,
one at home days. Today I'm finishing watching another Truffaut film with Jean-Pierre Lelaud in 'Stolen Kisses.' It's a 'who dunnit' kind of with tongue very deeply wound into the cheek.

I suppose I've finished my tea. I should make some more. I'll write more tonight.

Amma's Ashram in San Ramon.

There are twisting-turny roads to get there. Many ranches lie on one side of the highway. The other side may be dotted with
sheep or cows or just Scottish-green grass. Lots of frogs croak over the same amount of crickets. Two swan swim, unweathered, in the lake surrounded by lotus plants, not yet in bloom. The moon is like a bald man's half dome, sitting above the clouds. Clapping and singing accompanied by tabla and harmonium muffle through the trees.

This is the ashram of Mata Amritanandamayi, Amma, this night. We left around 11:00 am, and here I am writing a little more
than two hours later. The talk was missed tonight. Last week we got there at the same time and someone was still talking. The emphasis was on meditation, prayer, giving of thanks and feeling the swell of Spring in our hearts.

Absent, as I had thought would be, was the Gnome. Supposedly he started a job at a restaurant and has to work on Saturday nights now. Someone we know from Love of Ganesha previously was absent tonight, too. He probably is trying to make it with her. She never misses the Saturday ashram event. But I am merely an observer; what he does no longer concerns me. I wish him well but cannot be his friend. I must move on and try to meet other people. I am always the one who meets people but doesn't connect with any of them. Why do I have to go out with someone my age? At the ashram there are a few guys in my
age bracket, but I'm left cold by American guys unless they're dark in some way--the eyes or the hair or something. Also I think guys with shoulder-length hair should grow dreads. Especially guys over 40. I the guy is bald, he has to have attentive eyes. Mark and I are friends. He has attentive eyes. But he's only 26. I do like him as a person and consider him to be a good friend. He brought his artist friend from the nuthouse again tonight. I am very curious to see this man's art. He makes great claims to having retired at 25 or 26. I think Mark enjoys hearing stories from this person about art and what it was like when he
was Mark's age in the late '50's early '60's. He is harmless and sometimes funny. Laughter is about all that's left!

Back to cupcakes.

Tonight I officially start my one-week Spring Break. Yes. What plans. I need to sleep first before thinking. There is much to do
and so little money to do it with. At least the ashram is free. I plan to take the Gnome off his pedestal and put him in the flesh.
Why I still think about him at all is troubling. I haven't met anyone since the Indian guy from Staten Island who calls me after 12am on the weekend and with whom I haven't connected for a date or anything (we just had chai one evening when we met). He doesn't like my nose ring. He said, "I'd love to see you all dolled up and take that nose ring out..." This weekend I plan to see the film 'I am a Sex Addict.' There is much temptation in meeting the Indian guy. I could have sex with him and not regret it. He even said that he wants me "for a girlfriend for a while." Maybe the Buddha would have given the best advice on this one. Help me, you Alan Watts lovers.

Ganesh wil help me decide.

My Saturday nights have been taken up by going to to the M.A. Center, Amma's ashram, in San Ramon/Castro Valley. There have been some complications to the journey. Actually there has been one impediment toward going there for me: my ex-lover comes along with our group. He started coming last Saturday and was there this Saturday. I spoke to him more than I did last week. I feel so stupid. He is as superficial as I was when I was 24. It's the age when one most comes into contact with the concept of growing older. One moves out of the demographic. No longer considered close to a a teenager. Why I'm making excuses for him I have no idea. I think I love him even though I don't like him.

This scenario is called karmic. There is more to the picture than just two people, one rejecting the other as a lover. There is/are past event(s) that cause the two people to never consumate a long lost love (as in the concept of 'soulmate'). The connection between me and him is there; it's real. Whether he cares a damn about it when he doesn't see me, only he can say. But others who know him say that he's completely involved in himself and doesn't care about my feelings anymore. These people are probably right. I need help in deciding whether to forego going to the ashram for a while until he finds a new lover. I feel then he'll stop going to the ashram when Amma is not there.

For the moment I have to stress on going back to work tomorrow. I've had three wonderful days off. Even seeing him at the ashram and feeling the tears today, no emotional pain can outdo the physical and emotional pain of early-rising and having to do something one doesn't want to do. Sometimes I think about the children, but I don't long to go back to the routine of teaching as it is.

I feel petty, oh so petty, it's alarming how petty i feel

I take it all back. The encounter at the ashram was not really a blessed event. It was a blessed event, but I am confused. Right after the Prophet hugged me so tenderly, another person asked him for a hug. I call him the Prophet now, because his name has to do with some Judaic religion's version of a prophet. When I was in my early twenties, I lived with a guy whose friend used to call him The Prophet. He actually meant The Prophet, i.e., the The Prophet of Islam. But that is another story that I might get to in some round-about way.
Actually, calling him the Pee would link him to Pee Wee, and I don't want to do that. Why don't I just call him by the name of young boy, since he is such an ageist. Let's call him the Gnome, because sometimes he reminds me of a gnome. I happen to like gnomes quite alot.
In any case, my friend asked him for a hug. He gave her a peck-like kiss and an awkward hug to the shoulders. I think he was so blown away that he kissed her that he didn't know what to do. I haven't seen any of the guys in our group of people who inhabit The Love of Ganesha ever kiss this woman on the lips. What do I know? I know how I feel: still confused and wondering why I'm dwelling in the realm of the Green-headed Monster. Which is the way to the land of Shrek?

We were only trying to get gas but the gunshots...

Saturday night I went to the ashram with my friends. I usually pick people up from Love of Ganesha. When I got up to Haight Street I noticed that my ex-lover, the Nicaraguan guy, was standing outside. I thought, "Oh, is he driving up with me?" There was little to be said between us. He said hello to me and I to him. The awkwardness of the moment was offset by the fact that there was someone else driving so he could go with her. Good. The two people who rode with me I consider very good friends. They listened as I spoke about what had happened after the ashram in November between me and him. I haven't thought of a good name for him yet. Perhaps I will turn this into a faerie novel. The faeries reunite on another plane of existence only to find that ageism and economic circumstance keep them apart.
and competition again: he had to ask me how my life was going. I said good, he said great. What is the purpose of this? Ego warming? The poor ego is lying in its nest needing more warmth, the warmth of put-downs? We did have a meaningful hug, however. He took my face in his hands and put it next to his face and held it there for about two minutes. All our friends were very happy that we could come to some form of love expression. I was happy, too, but the next day I felt sad.
Oh, I forgot about the shootings. When we got back to the city at about 2 a.m. we were near the EndUp bar on 5th and Harrison. There were about 20 people standing in line, all guys. I needed to get some gas, and there was a huge half-block gas station nearby. But we heard about 3 or more gunshots, saw three guys running away, a get-a-way car and a man covered in blood. I still wanted to get some gas, but my friends talked me out of it! If only I could see danger more clearly and be really protective of myself.

Pee Wee and Spanish

I'm supposed to be doing my Spanish homework. This online class is something I've been avoiding for weeks now and am incredulously behind! Meanwhile, 'Pee Wee's Great Adventure' is on the comedy channel. Yeah. I haven't seen (heard--I'm listening to it as I type) this film in such a long time. Will Pee Wee make a comeback--oh, please!
Yes. We need Pee Wee to point out the uselessness of seeing ourselves as separate from our world. Pee Wee had his own world on the show, this is true. But people came over, he had friends, and the whole time this show was being broadcast at 9 a.m. on Saturday mornings, most of us were still asleep. On the rare occasion that I got to see the show, I was uplifted. I didn't watch much tv at that time, and I would watch Pee Wee and 'Showtime at the Apollo.' Get up early to stay up late!
I have nothing much to add to any existential or Freudian reading of my subjects. Can't stop thinking about Spanish and have to leave Sarte or Milton or Dave Chapelle behind.

Pee Wee and Spanish

I'm supposed to be doing my Spanish homework. This online class is something I've been avoiding for weeks now and am incredulously behind! Meanwhile, 'Pee Wee's Great Adventure' is on the comedy channel. Yeah. I haven't seen (heard--I'm listening to it as I type) this film in such a long time. Will Pee Wee make a comeback--oh, please!
Yes. We need Pee Wee to point out the uselessness of seeing ourselves as separate from our world. Pee Wee had his own world on the show, this is true. But people came over, he had friends, and the whole time this show was being broadcast at 9 a.m. on Saturday mornings, most of us were still asleep. On the rare occasion that I got to see the show, I was uplifted. I didn't watch much tv at that time, and I would watch Pee Wee and 'Showtime at the Apollo.' Get up early to stay up late!
I have nothing much to add to any existential or Freudian reading of my subjects. Can't stop thinking about Spanish and have to leave Sarte or Milton or Dave Chapelle behind.

Twisted Sister rocks.

"I wanna rock! duh duh duh duh duh DUH duh....Yeah, Twisted Sister. A favorite band of mine, I no longer own any of their
music on records. They became the property of the guy I was living with at that time. We were both punk/metal/heads.
Except I had a few degrees. I worked at a flower shop. What a beautiful occupation. However, I have my moments when I
feel that plucking flowers is a killing act. Amma speaks about this. One has to us discrimination to know when to cut flowers
or support them by buying them.

Meanwhile, I felt like blogging. There was just a documentary on about Tito Puente and his band. They played in San Francisco
for 50 years. I think Tito Puente died recently. He was responsible for putting the rhythm section in the front of the band
during performances. One couldn't help but move. I saw them many times.

I've been thinking tonight about one of my old boyfriends. I love Cuban music (as well as Bossa Nova), and he played trumpet. I hadn't t hought about him in a long time. I saw him two years ago. He know where I live. It's weird how one can put someone
totally out of the mind or, in this case, the litany of boyfriends and loves. Maybe it's time to be at the cherry blossom ball, recalling past love and dancing bliss. Let it flow out to the Ganges in astral time.

It's freezing. I feel cold. But I want to travel, that's it.

Today is one of those holidays in which one gets to travel. Now one can travel anytime, right? Just got to turn on the television or see a film or fall asleep and dream. I may be in one of those dream states right now due to the extreme cold I feel. San Franciso dwellings are known for there "airiness"--a lack of warm air. So, my brain has shut down due to the frigid temperature, it has taken all it can and has closed down. That is how easy it is to write a blog like mine. I just write whenever my brain has shut down.
Meanwhile, I wish I could travel to a warm place...like India, VietNam, Mexico and wherever it's HOT (except Hawaii--little islands in the midst of vast ocean scare me). Instead, I have turned on the heater. My fingers are warm enough for typing.
And then back again to travelling: today is St. Padraic's day in Ireland and the U.S.A. (the us part doesn't include me) and other places where people speak English or Gaelic and like to drink alcohol. Tonight I'm taking my good friend from Mumbai to an I.R.A. bar in the city. It's really hardcore. There's one in Berkeley called The Starry Plough--lovely name. What do I mean by an I.R.A. bar? Let's just say people talk alot of politics and philosophy in these bars. Sounds kind of boring, huh? Yeah, since we both just drink cranberry juice, there's no room for any more boredom.
For some real fun we plan to go to the local bar on Mission Street where they play Siouxsie and the Banshees and the The Cult and stuff like that. I have a crush on the one of the owners. He is Latino. Will my Indian friend be in the way? I hope he meets someone to talk to. We're both looking for relationships. Feel sorry for us. Then meditate and pray that we too might enjoy some of the pleasures of conjoining with another human. What else might one want to do (if they haven't done that already!)?

Back to the Ashram

Last evening I went out to Amma's (www.amma.org) ashram in Castro Valley. I had alot of passengers this time. There were
still many people at this satsang which wasn't a festival celebration day like Shivaratri. It is very uplifting to go there. The swami talked about "the past." He said that Amma says the "past is like a bounced check." It is karma and dharma at the same time. It's best to let the past go and consider it paid, as it were. For me this is quite important since I am an incest survivor with many sources of invalidation in my family and past loves. There are so many times that one memory will lead to another, and they're usually negative or invalidating for me. I've tried and I'm still trying to let these thoughts drop off me and be carried by a gentle wind that takes them away. Not very poetic this evening, sorry. Oh, that's a negative thought. Critical. I studied literary criticism at UC Berkeley which has always been a decent school. The school of life calls now. I've got to accept what is and then notice what could be changed. Zen. Cupcakes. Monty Python is on. Jaya Ganesh. That "Academy Awards" stuff is really disgusting.
There are all these people on television and in film who are completely overpaid and keep all their money to themselves. What do they have to offer? I've digressed.
A man has a tape recorder up his nose.

Yesterday was Shivaratri

Saturday, February 25th was Shivaratri, a Hindu celebration of Lord Shiva, god of destruction/creation. Actually, in India, everyone had celebrated the day before (due to time differences, of course). I went with two friends from Love of Ganesha out to San Ramon to be with the people of Amma's ashram for this auspicious occasion. We left at 5pm and got there at about 6:15pm. The festivities had not begun yet, fortunately. We missed the chanting of the 1,000 names of Amma, though. We did chant the 108 names of Amma and then heard a talk by one of her swamis about Shiva and his own personal relationship with Amma.
He recounted that when he first became a devotee of Amma he was accepted into one of India's most prestigious film schools. He said that over 500 people would apply every year and that only 20 would be chosen to attend the school each year. (I was really wondering what kinds of films he had made or what the criteria was for this film school, but he didn't get into that.) He was accepted and hoped that Amma would manifest a film camera for him. He approached her several times and got no answer. He then asked her what kind of seva (selfless service) he could do at the ashram. She wouldn't give him an answer. Finally she told him that his seva was to clean up the "cowshit." He had to milk the cows and feed them. He did this task for about a month when he decided that "Amma had not recognized (his) godliness, and therefore he wasn't going to do this seva anymore. He came outside later than usual, and he discovered that Amma was out there cleaning up the cowshit and caring for the cows. He felt really bad and related his experience to how Shiva helps destroy certain aspects of the ego to allow us to be something

Happy Birthday to Me.

It's not really my birthday. Actually, I thought it was still Saturday and the birthday of my former lover would have been happening. This is the guy I felt a strong karmic connection with. He drives me to write ungrammatically, so bear with me, please. The odd thing is that it's not only he who makes me feel uncomfortable but the other people I work with at Love of Ganesha also. Last night there was a birthday party for the owner. The owner doesn't like parties. She sat the whole time with her husband at a table away from everyone else. I had to sit at the same table as this ex-lover (the one from Nicaragua). It was a nightmare. He waved at me 5 seats away and didn't even call out my name as though he had forgotten it. I wasn't about to set up more bad karma, so I said hello. "How are you?" he said. I said, "Good, how are you." "Oh, very good." The compeition was on. I decided to give him a friendly/sarcastic thumbs up and said, "Good for you."

Actually, I'm too tired to think about this stupid stuff. I'm sick of getting treated badly by men. Only one has been recently half-way honest and kind. I'm not going to mention what a woman said at the party to get at me about this guy. Her story will fall under the category of "Why Civilization is so Uncivilized?" and the role women play in making men moe stupid and themselves more petty.

What's 'a mattah with Petah?

Has anyone watched and wondered at "The Family Guy?" It is too hilarious to the point of being sanely absurd. I'm wondering which character you most identify with:

Thanks for thinking about this. I'll reveal my secret character generator later.

(It was another difficult Monday to wake up to!!!!!)

The stomach speaks volumes and reports the news.

Tonight I went to my Psychic Horizons class on "Walking Your Path." We do about 4-5 meditations and then do healings on each other afterward. It is very strange that the person who healed me saw clawed hands groping continously outward from my third chakra. I did feel a little bit sick before I went over there (I had a headache). At this point in the evening I feel like my stomach is going to burst and my intestines will implode with the force of fifty-six balloons. Actually the pain is bad but not that bad. I hope it goes away.

My stomach has news to relate: there is debate going in in this household that Jeremy Hawkins' The Bride and Her Bachelor's Hot Air ( a novel of some innovation) is readable and therefore enjoyable. Has anyone read it and could you review it with me somehow--(via "comments" or whatever).

The nut is at the table.

Hello,
I'm writing this in letter form because it feels better this way. If you've read about my job in some of the other blogs, you'll know that I have a karmically, physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding job. I work with small children with huge disabilities. Five of them have autism, and the rest cerebral palsy. I have 3 assistants, all supposed adults.

One of the assistants is new. She has already put me down in front of the principal. Today I looked in one of the children's backpacks at the end of the day to discover that this assistant had told the others at the cafeteria table that she was not going to give this lunch that the parents had provided for the girl to her. This assistant claimed that the food was "too full of junk and sugar and she (the little six-year-old) shouldn't eat it.

Tomorrow I will tell the principal about this act of child abuse.

Broken Flowers and mended skirts.

Is it me or does Bill Murray in major dramatic roles sound like one of the most boring images one could think of? Tonight I am
spending most of the time writing on the computer because I rented the film "Broken Flowers" and I could only stand the first half of it until I am truly repulsed but able to keep the sound on. At this writing the Don Johnston character is meeting his son or something. The dialogue sounds unusually intimate.

Meanwhile there was a very beautiful but small shrine to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. at Love of Ganesha today. I asked them if they'd leave it up until Sunday so that I might read the written material they had on him.

It's been a week since I've blogged.

Accupuncture and Genocide

I asked my accupuncturist today, Dr. Xing Fu, if he could predict what the Year of the Dog will be like. He said, "Nice, like a dog. You like dogs?" "Yes," I said, another needle going into my leg. I had a wonderful dream while full of pins but can remember it. I know it didn't have anything to do with dogs.

Tonight my friend showed part of a video on "Utopia and Terrorism," The professor who did most of the lecturing spoke about the fact that this past century as well as this one have been the most violent in human history, killing masses of people in an attempt to create a kind of utopia out of some philosophical or religious conviction.

"Peace" is such nebulous word. Do we know what it really can mean?

The Year of the Dog

I'm wondering what the year of the Dog, 2006, will be like. Today at work our nurse in the classroom (one of our students has such violent seizures that a nurse must monitor her) took time off from her schedule to search for a dog on the web for the Year of the Dog. She came up with some very cool designs. If I had more computer skills and a scanner, I would have put the images on this blog. Ah, more technology!

Another friend of mine was telling me about an important person she, her husband, and a friend met on their trip to Death Valley. They met a woman named Marta Becket. She is still a popular entertainer at the age of 82. She has been in the theatre and tv industries since she was a child in New York City. Her theatre, which she painted murals all over, is located somewhere less than 100 miles outside of Las Vegas in the desert. I have yet to find out information about this woman on the net. It's time to think about sleep and work and all that. But I will put her in this blog some more. If you know about her or have met her, please share your experience.

First Day Back to Work

I'd been off since December 16th or something like that. Sleeping when I wanted to; getting up before or around 12pm. Doing all kinds of art and spiritual things, and enjoying friends and new friends. Suddenly, it was time, at some dark hour this morning, that I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep until the alarm went off. Tired. One of my roommates in the kitchen making popcorn at 7:20 in the morning in the kitchen. Stayed in the bathroom. Got to work a bit earlier than usual.

Work: keeping alert to all that happens with these young children with autism and cerebral palsy. Glad to see them in the early morning, glad to see them go in the afternoon. In the meantime trying to teach them how to use a schedule (PECs schedule), read a simple text, put puzzle pieces in place while singing "Old Mc Donald Had a Farm." Math and painting in the afternoon.

Tomorrow we'll have music.

Angela Davis is important.

Yesterday I was sitting in a funky little hair salon in my neighborhood. The hairdryer is right near the window, and people passing by and driving by can see right in. I didn't realize that my reading material, Angela Davis: An Autobiography would catch anyone's attention.

About twenty minutes into the dryer thing, and someone called the salon. "Angela Davis? There's no Angela Davis in here," said the hairstylist who answered the phone and was working alone in the salon. She then saw the book I was reading. We talked for a brief moment about what happened--10 minutes later. It took us that long to realize that Angela Davis is that significant of a person that someone would respond to watching someone else reading her book.

Shiva or Krishna?

The Vedanta Society of San Francisco came out today in the newspaper with some statement as to the Hindu belief that Jesus is
a kind of avatar like Shiva. Jesus's birth this year, and most years, is celebrated three days after the solstice, therefore on Saturnalia. Isn't Shiva associated with Saturn?

Rodney's Goodbye

This is Rodney Brown's swan song from Access San Francisco cable tv studios. I was the director, camera person and editor for this piece. Rodney has moved to Los Angeles and will be working with Spacetime Productions. Good luck, Rodney!


Thanks to my friends at Digital Etchings, for hosting the video.
2.6MB large - (Time: 4:24)

Now and Zen Mermaids and Guitars, Lovers and Love Energy

Now and Zen I just wrote a long, lengthy blog that got put on another website!!! Silly me, I haven't written a blog since July. There's too much to catch up on.

The blog had to do with playing an open mic tomorrow night. I played my guitar and tried to remember my old songs. The open mic will be at Sacred Grounds in the upper Haight opposite the Panhandle on Hayes Street. It is a place full of love energy. One cannot get enought Love Energy.

I'm on a cable access program on Love Energy called The Bro Jud on Love Energy show. I'm the "reader," and I often read from the techies' tome, The Rise of the Creative Class. I used to also read from Amma. I will again. The show is full of love and I think people will appreciate it.

Tomorrow I will also go to Love of Ganesha, a store in the Haight. I will meditate and talk with the people who work there who are from Thailand. They are beautiful spirits. Full of love energy.

About three weeks ago now I met a potential lover at Love of Ganesha. He is from Nicaragua and makes jewelry. There is a considerable difference in our ages. I really admire his sense of freedom, to think about going anywhere he wants. He lives at home with his parents and sometimes with girlfriends. He is a dread head but meditates very often at Love of Ganesha in which there is beautiful mediation room. Somehow I can't get him off my mind even though I went on a date with someone else two weeks ago and had a visit from an old lover who is going back to India last week.

Ah, the heart. It wanders. It ponders. I yearns.

Mermaids and Guitars plus Love Energy and Good-byes

I played my guitar tonight. The back is coming off of it. About 12 years ago I bought it for $90. from a French guy who had bought it in France. It's an Ibanez and therefore was probably made in Japan. I always had a problem with the high end being kind of gritty, but the guitar has been around a long while and has it's own unique sound like all guitars do. I was watching a Naveen Andrews interview on tv about six months ago, and he has a massive acoustic guitar collection. I'm sure real musicians do, too. My guitar collection consists of the Ibanez and and a Gretsch electric. My preference is to play electric, but to do open mics one has to use an acoustic guitar--for some reason!?

Tomorrow night I want to do an open mic at Sacred Grounds, a very love energy kind of place in the upper Haight on the Hayes Street side of the panhandle.

Love of Ganesha will be my stop before I go off to the open mic. Love of Ganesha is on Haight and Central and another store on Ashbury and Page. I love these two stores (how can one love a store??) and try to go to both as often as I can. There are meditation rooms in both stores.

I met someone through the Love of Ganesh store. He is from Nicaragua. He makes jewelry. Our relationship for that one evening and part of the next day was special to me in some way. Perhaps I admire his sense of freedom. He lives at home with his parents and doesn't have to worry about necessary bills. He doesn't even own a pair of shoes that he bought to fit him! He has dreadlocks and considers himself part of the young hippie love scene.

The show Bro Jud on Love Energy is a cable access one that I am on once a month. I've been with the show for 5 years. We are always considering different methods and modes and ways of speaking about love energy. I must have something in common with my young lover and therefore we were brought together. He called me "La Sirena." It is a quandary to me why mermaids are often depicted alone. Can anyone help me with the details of the myths about mermaids? (I'd like to make a song of it.)

I'm so glad to be blogging again!

My cat died.

Monday of last week I took my cat Lita to the veterinarian to be put to sleep. She weighed three pounds. She was nearly seventeen-years-old. Her eyes were half-open and she appeared to have lost her sight. Lita walked up the back steps and slept that morning on the bed of one of my housemates. She slept in parallel fashion with her companion kitten, Arlo, a black punk cat with green globes for eyes and almost 8 years-old.

By mid-afternoon Lita walked over to her water bowl and smelled it. She could not drink.

My housemates and I discussed whether she should be put to sleep or whether she would have more dignity dying at home--however long that would take and however much she might be suffering meanwhile. My decision had already been made: take her from her suffering. We reached the emergency hours for the veterinary specialists at 6:00 pm. I had decided to start reading The Upanishads. I couldn't see around me, although I was petting her while we waited.

When the vet saw her, he asked if she'd been eating at all. For the past week or more, she had started to end eating. He explained that she was utterly dehydrated. He compared her experience to one of his own when he was mountain climbing or something. He said he had had the same level of dehydration as Lita and that he had been in great physical pain. He also mentioned that he wished that people who have incurable diseases and are suffering immensely should be allowed to end their suffering. Euthanasia can save lives.

Forgot what I was trying to say...

It's red and velvety. It's a book. It's my "scribbling pad" and it is always near my bed. The writings are all from summer of 1999. There's a passage that I can't comprehend. I mean, I have no idea what I'm trying to say. Help me out!

"Don't you want to cry?" asked Patsy. She had just been made aware of her friend's recent miseries.

"What do you mean 'want to'? Sandra let out with a vehemence bordering on psychotic, episodic, (psychic?) meandering.

" I suppose I should have said, 'will you?' or 'can you'--or maybe I should just have remained silent. "You just said that no one cares about you."

"That's perfect." Gratuitous responses to what is obviously beyond anyone's control. "If I could cry, I would."

Her shoulder-length brownish hair was speckled with white. It was, at least, clean.

"I've got to go now," announced Patsy, as she tossed back her orange-cascading locks. "I just remembered I have to pick up the child. Take care, ok,?"

Patsy's tight black pants betrayed a certain need for sex, but her preppie, forest-green shirt told most of America that, in a pinch, she would be on their side.

Sandra...thought about the spirit that had inhabited her while she was pregnant years ago. She wondered if it ever made it to its desired home. Maybe it was living in one of Patsy's kids. "That thing spends too much time berating Man for whatever reason." Sandra told herself that it was time--now or never--to give birth to a similar ghoul or otherwise unsavory spirit. "I have absolutely nothing to hold on to, she thought. "And that's why women love to parade their newborns around the street of the city, allowing them to suck in all that carbon monoxide from busy drivers and then take them home to suckle off the teat of a Mama lamb who just grazed on some MSG-filled potato chips from the local corner store. That's what I need."

Bro Jud on Love Energy

Now and ZenBack in March I wrote about being a guest on the Bro Jud on Love Energy show on cable tv 29 here in San Francisco. I forgot to mention that I had worked all day, driven across town for an acupuncture treatment and wasted time away from home (a place called Bernal Heights) until I could be on the show where everyone arrive before 8:30 but videotaping doesn't begin until almost 10 pm. I have seen the dvd of the March show. I didn't realize that three large red pimple-ish areas on the right side of my nose/cheek were highly visible and that the person who was directing had my chair face the direction away from the camera almost at a profile angle so that my blotches could not be seen unless I turned my head 45 degrees to face the camera. I was thinner then, and I had my hair in pig tails and I didn't have bangs like I have now. Needless to say, I didn't bother to look in the mirror before the show and no one told me or commented on my blotchey face.

Tonight, before taping, Jud was combing his hoary beard and shoulder-length hair. He was wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt. As he was combing, little bits of whitish bits of bits were falling on his shirt. No one told him his dandruff had completely covered his shirt. Because I wished someone had told me about my inattention to my appearance, I helped Jud swish the stuff off. Jud said, "There's always something, isn't there?" I could immediately ruminate on all my bodily flaws from too-thick hair to my un-sexy black socks with a black skirt. Yes, there's always something, I had to agree.

Then I thought about the fact that I'm supposed to be reading something about love energy on this show. People are supposed to be listening to what I read. Lately I've been reading Jud's writing, which, although not "bad," is sometimes murky and takes alot of smiling to carry off well. The director told me tonight that the special effects behind my head looked really good because I wasn't sitting right in the middle of the shot but was off to the side. I said that people have to have something visually interesting to look at since following the material that is read is sometimes a chore.

I used to read from books like The Creative Class and some of Amma's writings as well as poetry. I preferred stringing texts together so that the listener could concentrate on one or more of them and try to piece them together in their minds. But as time has gone on, the show has become, in Jud's head, a classroom or something. He goes off on tangents alot more and is less clear about what he's saying or who his audience is. However, people used to say, "What's this guy talking about? He's full of hot air."

Jud is over 83 years-old. He says he's losing his short-term memory. I have noticed this a little bit, but he is still able to get a 10-person crew together to do the show every month. And he has a "think tank" every Thursday to go over his ideas and to brainstorm. I haven't even mentioned his plan: to end poverty, to provide education to those who are unable to attend public schools due to many reasons, to help single mothers, veterans, people suffering from AIDS and people with physical and mental disabilities.

More on this later...

Now and ZenRemember when I wrote that I had a job working with small children with other abilities? It's hard to believe that I made it through the school year.

Last summer I underwent a severe depression in which I lost 25+ pounds and became anemic. I returned to the job with no energy. The kids were all new kindergarteners with autism, tantrums, screaming for hours, hitting, biting, pinching, hitting themselves with their heads on the floor. You had to be there.

And then at night I had to get up about four to five times to go to the bathroom. I was getting no sleep and working with these children.

By springtime I was sleeping better and beginning to understand the children a little better. And now that the semester is over until the end of August, I'm not really that tired.

There should be a lot to do. The hedonist in me wants to just play, play, play. The creative spirit wants to make music. The spiritual part of me wants to read uplifting books and do seva.

Anyone who has time off this summer and wants to go on a trip--write to me.

Facepainting and facelifting--not weight lifting.

Now and Zen: Sick and tired of being sick and tired--and anonymous.Today I performed the well-renowned art of facepainting at the educational institution at which I slave. The children were very vulnerable and cute, and at times I thought of myself as a make up artist, concentrating with Gaugin flair on the canvas. It was when I had to render a dinosaur on the cheek of a five-year-old that things got rough. Put those spikey humps in the right place, and all is well.

This week I demonstrated with 1499 of my cohorts in San Francisco Unified School District on Van Ness and Mc Allister. We all wore our blue white and red T-shirts and carried signs. My sign was actually written and conceived by another teacher but she gave it to me to embellish. It read "Give him back to Hollywood" and I added "better yet: Austria." They put my picture on the www.uesf.org (see below) as one of the demonstrators. I don't want to get into the socio-political suggestions in the sign right now because I really want to talk about superficial things like age and how people look. But I suppose how people look has something to do with the sign. If one is a white European, the idea of being deported for any reason is less likely than for people of different skin tones and from different places than Europe (and I'm not talking about Canada!).

Actually, I wanted to talk about age and superficiality and faces and facelifts and all that. A friend of mine today told me that I used to be one of her "young friends." Now that I'm "older," that is, can't pass for being twenty-five, I'm no longer "young." My friend just turned 60 a couple of months ago. I wonder how I would feel were I 60 right this moment. Would I feel even further away from 25? Probably. Would I need to get a facelift to become a 25-year-old? Probably. I have friends who are in their fifties who have had lifts. (I'm not fifty, and who cares, anyway).

Parrots and Love.

Now and Zen: Rubens, or the Michelin people.Tonight I saw the film "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." This is the first movie I've ever wanted to buy. My friend Dave and my housemate came along for this one. My housemate had to see "a film that starts and ends with parrots." And, at first while watching the film, I started to wonder whether this film could be carried by the parrots.

Then the stories of the parrots themselves became so awe-inspiring. I've already forgotten the name of the man who was feeding and befriending the birds. But he gave many of them names and told stories about their habits and wants and dislikes. He romantically recounted the relationships between the birds and the fact that there existed among them a blue-headed bird who never had a mate. This bird's name was Connor. So cute!

Ultimately the experience of this film is once again like many philosophizing screeenings: we are one. There is no coincidence in this. Yet there is. When we see that we are all one and really believe it, we will treat each other as though we were hugging ourselves.