I saw Amma on Tuesday.

Please excuse the last post. I'm too tired to try to figure out how to edit a post with blogger.com. There quite a few errors in it and it had little to say.

At least now I'm going to describe my visit to see Amma on Tuesday morning this week. We arrived at 10:10 am and Amma hadn't come yet. Next minute Amma is there. The ashram is covered with devotees. I got darshan around 2:30 pm, but in the meanwhile I had a really intense meditation sitting on the floor near Amma. I like to sit there. Fortunately, the ashram was not so crowded that I could sit and meditate there.

Went to have lunch. The Indian food line was really long...not a big deal. Talked with a woman in line about her business doing energy/healing work with people with cerebral palsy. I was trying not to think of work!!!

Amma has been on my mind as well what happens at the ashram when she' there.

Last year I went to Amma's ashram in San Ramon every Saturday night for satsang. This year, I've only gone to one satsang. It was in April. Actually I could write at least a short story about all that has happened to me by me for me at me with me and etc. at Amma's ashram--especially when Amma is there.

Back in 2002 in a floatingly hot summer, I spent Devi Bhava with a very young man from Montreal with dreadlocks and a drum. We both got mantras and names that night. He uses his--abbreviatedly--now. (I said "Hi" to him at Amma's birthday satsang last September--a million years ago!!!) I don't use mine. It's too weird. I thought Amma was going to give me a name that meant "Patience" but she gave me the name Charuta. The moon is in the name somewhere, but it doesn't mean "moon." But I digress again. It's all in a name, isn't it? For me, Amma really blew me away in a way, but actually the first thought that came to me was "inner" with regard to "beauty." It has been a problem for me to look at myself on the outside.

When I think I've done some work on my inner world, I do something karmic to make everything more challenging.

This young man I met at the ashram that year and I related to one another in a more karmic way for me. I have Venus, Rahu and a very important other planet in Scorpio in the 10th house.

"Wear your love like heaven...
Alizarin crimson...
Can I believe what I see
All I have wished for could be
All our races proud and free...

THE DEVIL IN DANIEL JOHNSTON and Greetings

This was the second night I watched the film THE DEVIL IN DANIEL JOHNSTON. When I saw the MTV footage of him from about 1985 I realized that I had seen him before--on TV! Many people become famous through that medium. But I think Daniel will be more well-known for all the documentation he did on himself throughout his teens and twenties. He recorded many of his musings and made films when he was in high school. The film about him is therefore full of rich documentation of a true artist. This particular artist is one who was suffering for a long time with mental illness.

Many of us wanted to be on MTV in the eighties. Videos were on constantly, and there were many theme musical shows, one of which Daniel Johnston performed on. He was a product of a kind of Amurikana that is steeped in Christianity and the Bible. No wonder he came from the southern US of A. To me he's kind of an anthropological study of a culture that is its very own and which I, though from the suburbs of San Francisco, can appreciate.

But what's most important about Daniel's contribution to the world is his music and his visual art, paintings and drawings. His metaphors are so simple and sweet. It is no wonder that he went off his meds weeks before he would perform. And though people--his peers one of whom I am--could find some of his lyrics somewhat over the top, the sentiment is real and therefore to be accepted as such.

There is much more to be said about this artist but I would just recommend the documentary. Some may find it exploitative of the mentally ill. I see it as an appreciate of genius.

Just to digress like I usually like to, I want to say that if anyone writes me a "Hi there" I will not respond. For some reason this harmless phrase puts me off. It's an acknowledgment of personal space without the warmth of sincere greeting.

SHREK THE THIRD

Yes, good ol' Shrek. I really liked the first one. I went with some severely cognitively impaired young adults I was teaching in summer school. It was so fun. It was so new. We saw it at 11:00am at the Metreon. SHREK 2 I saw with a friend in the early evening at the Metreon. It, too was sweet. So far I've said nothing about the film that would inform the non-Shrek person.

My favorite thing about Shrek is that one of the guys who works at the local cafe wrote "Tortuga" under Shrek's picture. That made me laugh. I think tortuga is a funny word; it means turtle. A turtle, a donkey, and a cat. I love cats. It's so fitting that the cat has a Spanish accent. He's portrayed as a player in SHREK THE THIRD. In fact, the kittie is the only one who doesn't reproduce in the film. And that's the plot of SHREK THE THIRD.

I got bitten again.

As much as I like to say "Hi, doggie, doggie," to the nearest sweet French bulldog, I have always been afraid of getting bitten by a dog. The only "wild" animal, i.e., one which bites and etc., to gain entrance to the human abode, is the dog. It's odd that humans also can bite into apples and into each other.

Today was the second time this month that I have been bitten by a student. Actually, it's been the same student each time. This student is not the only one in the class who bites. I've been the lucky one to be a "human bite" recipient. I went to occupational health. They know me there. I've received alot of bites and scratches from students over the years.

My getting the bite was no one's fault. I could consider myself slow in realizing that someone intends to bite me, but I won't go there. The blame game is overdone. I'm not sure what karma has to do with it.

What does karma have to do with being "the world's tallest woman?" Where does this woman reside, you may ask. When I saw the caption on the cable menu, "World's Tallest Woman" I was drawn to it. This woman lives in China. I hope this documentary follows her, because she was just given 6 months' worth of medicine to help reduce her pituitary gland tumor. The pituitary gland controls the endocrine system, and the endocrine system controls height. The "condition" this woman has is called "giantism." She stands 7 feet, 8 inches tall. It was incredible to me that people in her village and the health workers in Shanghai treated her with so much respect. She actually demanded it by being a person without an impairment in her ability to communicate her wants and needs.

PAN'S LABORYNTH and the Himalayan Fair.

I've gone to the Himalayan Fair for the past nine years. It has always been eventful. There is always a musical or dance event that is fascinating. There is always someone that one meets that one hasn't seen in a long time and the meeting is good. I have a poem about something that happened at the fair when I went by myself. Today I went with my friend toward the very end of the day. The last performance of the day was taking place: the closing blessing ceremony by Tibetan snow lion dancers.

When we looked at the booths, there was a lot to see--as usual! But, then again, it was Sunday, and (hopefully) the vendors had sold most of their good stuff. I tried on a Nepalese patchwork skirt with panel of the eyes of the Buddha hovering over the vagina. I thought it really tantric, but it didn't fit quite right. I don't like having a belly sticking out!!!

Meanwhile, there was more to say about that, but Blogger is rushing me through. (Usually I take a break and come back to a blog...)

PAN'S LABORYNTH was as magical as I thought it would be. My friends and I wondered about the scene where Ofelia is in the bathtub. A cleansing ritualist symbol or suggestive of child sexuality?

Art: a work of Art.

I like to paint. Today I have spent much of the time in an intense sense of bliss at the thought of not having to go to my job during the week and actually having moment to be free. It was essential to mention the job because I just got paid today and could, therefore, spend a little bit of money.

Back to painting. Sometimes I do watercolors of the same subject more or less. I see them as emotional reflections of a mind at thought, at thinking, at listening, at wondering, at stating, etc. Really, they are just sketches for much bigger paintings that might never get done.

I looked at some ads for new places to live, but I'm sorry, I want to be able to have fun and not have to feel that I have to be away from the place a certain amount of time to make every one happy. And these people never take cats. Although I no longer have a cat, there are to two cats here in the house, Pablo and Buddy. They have varous other names like Pineapple, the Pubbers, Chunky Monkey and the Budders.

But I digress again. This was supposed to be about Art. I watched the film ART SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAl tonight. Why did John Malkovich have to be in it? Wasn't the story line completely tired (the boy who wants to be an artist so he can have beautiful women...)? Sexy this film was not. Enlightening this film was not. Pubesxent this film was. It was supposed to be a play on some other film (Terry Zigoff can't be this bad of a director??). I really liked Steve Buscemi and the casting of non-Hollywood actors.

I haven't said anything about Art and neither did this film. I haven't said anything about love and neither did this film.

American Hardcore

I tried watch THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP but got lost on the premise:"Love is an extrapolation of a dream" or some poopoo like that. This film is really sick. Now, I haven't seen it to the end, so I might have to correct myself. But I found myself wondering what "love" the film is referring to. The main character loves no one, really. Oh yes, his name was Stephane. And oh yes, he's Mexican in France. The woman he has a romantic relationship with is named Stephanie. Is she an extension of him and he and extension of him?

Back to Derrida, what's in a name? What is "love"? As we know, the Greeks (and, sorry, I'm not shedding light on this for anyone with a reference to what love means in an idigenous culture) had a couple of words for love: agape, love for all and eros, "romantic," i.e., love involving sex. Is Western culture still stuck on this? But, of course, because sex sells. It's all about the money. Once again.

I don't feel like elaborating on this much further. And the whole concept of self-love, as taught in many cultures and espoused by many therapists for those who find themselves in doubt, is another issue. But, I wonder, is it?

Some of the poems...

Yeah, I got to play tabla at the Club Deluxe!!! It was very cool for me to sit on the floor next to the stage and be kind of from somewhere else. I'm in a good mood. Yes. My room looks like some kind of weird bazaare, with stuff to look at everywhere--and defnitely a lot on the floor!

But I digress...Just wanted to post a couple of the poems I read the other night at SHE SPEAKS #2:


RIver Tongue


You see inside my billowing, soft-magenta lips
With yours, hard and driven, spreading to open
What is seen inside...


A cavern of the raspberry popsicle where
Sweetness resides and deisre wants to fall
Into the moonlit sky.


Your truly musky, muscular tongue sips
And licks its much-wanted candy cane
That lives year-round.


Your rows of growth in your brown garden,
Your cheeks and chin, burrow into mine,
And we smell greenness.


But pink is our color because we live
Inside pink and glow outside pink and
Play in pink.


Let me rip out your black eyes and stick
Them inside my head that I may always
See as we do.

That's enough for now. No, maybe I'll type out Prem:


Prem (Love)

Judging and unjudging (a proper gerund?),
Your nose to the right or to the left,
A droit ou a gauche, meories stilled
In the movement de mon coeur without a
Relationship. In your compassion, you know all.

The lake is full and open to your remembrances
And what ripples and what is now calm.
Oh, esta mi agua, and nosotros podemos.
Pero yo quiero the pink smell of happiness,
I know you want it, you have it, you give it.

Yours truly, and the fairies and sprites have
Joined us in the celebration. What will you
Have of me now? Gibt es Blumen everywhere,
Traversing the planes of being, being with you
Among those who sweep and ponder distantly.

SHE SPEAKS

March is the month of women, drinking in the name of "Christianity," the Amurrikan flag, and Cesar Chavez. I have been blessed to be a part of the women who make up SHE SPEAKS. We are woman musicians, poets, performers, etc.!!! This has been the creative outlet I've needed for a long time. Today I sent off one of my performance pictures for a bio thing. The photo was from May of 2002--five years ago!!! Scary.

Although I've been doing The Bro Jud on Love Energy Show for a number of years now, I have practiced with the band ahead of time only once! And, although there is not enough room in my room for even me, I will be playing tabla every day for at least a half hour until next Tuesday when I'll play at the SHE SPEAKS event at Club Deluxe on Haight (March 20th, 8 pm).

They want me to sing and drum to the Goddess. As one who knows Hinduism might know, the Goddess has many forms: Lalita (Lakshmi, Goddess of Love and Money), Saraswati (Goddess of Music and Knowledge), Durga (a form of Kali, but much prettier, and, according to a customer from Japan who came into Love of Ganesha last week, Goddess of Wisdom), and, of course, Kali, Jagd herself. I think the bhajan I'll sing is to Kali. But my tabla is sooo out of tune. I need some help!!! Too bad one of my boyfriends who plays tabla went back to Gujarat a year or so ago. I'll just practice my na. Everything else will fall into place.

I don't want to talk about the love life situation at this point, but I will. Last week a guy I had a heart connection with called me. He was in town after coming and going since last June. He would e-mail me that he was in town and then would never meet up with me. He must have done this at least 5 times. It's too bad that I couldn't deal with being let down any more. It would have been good to see him. Then there's the white guy (I don't think I've gone out with a white guy since 2002) whom I would like to have as a friend. We met up some time in late February when he played at a performance at The Beat Museum which I shot video of. Then there's one of the Mexican guys I know who had me to dinner but never inquired into my health (I was dying from the flu and bronchitis) after I went to his place for dinner. He seemed into being validated as a lover. To be honest, I was not really attracted to him physically. But I would have liked to hang out with him as a friend to find out if we could be lovers. Many men I meet don't think that getting to know someone should have some mystery to it or that sex is tantamount to any meeting otherwise it would be a waste of time for them.

Now I know I have more to offer than just my body, etc. But there really haven't been any guys around who can recognize and not be afraid or threatened by my intelligence and stupidity. Such is the karma of the moment. But I feel good about the fact that my having been so sick and really still recovering is making it much easier for this Scorpio/Sagittarian woman to resist sex!

I just signed into the New Blogger...

Ok. Now I have a new blog. It's been a while since I've written anything. I was very, very sick with the flu, acute bronchitis and a cold. Stayed in bed for four days at the end of last week. Was out of work for two days;; the whole classroom fell apart. Working now is even more depressing. There were fights among the assistants as to who knows how to run the class. Going to work is the worst it's ever been.

I took a nap for two hours this evening, and when I woke up I was sweating. The heat was really high in my room for some reason. Just this simple biological event ant the rest and visit to the astral and dreamland helped me see that work is not the most important thing. It couldn't have been furthest from my mind. My comfort came first. I think this will be my approach to the next two hellish days: I will concentrate on what makes me feel good about myself. My actions will take the form of well-intentioned, well-spoken and thought-out activities and events.

There is much to do. I've cut out the chai and the caffeine for the week. This is helping in a big way. It's too bad that I can't wear these new jeans I bought--because they keep falling down! (don't use animal products--don't have a belt) So, I don't care. I'll wear my long skirt tomorrow with ripped thermal leggings underneath. I will compromise and wear my white high top converse tennis shoes (in case I have to run after a kid).

As you may infer, life has been on the dull side as far as sex and love and tantra. There's a guy I met a few weeks ago I have to contact to give him something I made of his music. i hope we can be friends. A person from the past called me and wanted to bring everything up to the present at 1:00am in the morning last night. I had to say I've been sick and can't stay up late--not to mention that work has been so shitty. He didn't call me today. This is not a pattern I want to continue. So I go to work and try to get better physically and emotionally. I still think alot about Arlo but not as much. I think he is happy with Lita again now on some other plane or even as her newly-born kitten.

Soon to be over being sick with the flu.

It seems like I haven't written in this blog for a long time. Lately I've been so tired from the flu and bronchitis that I haven't felt like typing. Boohoo.

Just wanted to write about ROCK AND ROLL SWINDLE. A friend of mine lent it to me, and I'd seen it before. It's from Malcolm McLaren's perspective. Today a friend came by and was talking about all this stuff from out punk pasts (presents?). She's from Ireland and has a totally European perspective--from the gentry side. Her family was gentry in Eire and had lots of land. She doesn't have to work for, perhaps, the rest of her life. But she refuses to "own" things.

Anyway, she was telling me she saw The Slits somewhere on Tehama...I don't know this club. Why didn't I call her? I couldn't understand her message, and, the times she was callilng me before, about 3 years ago, she was going to live in a camper van across from the house she's rented with others for years and years.

This has become a digression about abouts, a bout de la mer. I was at work! So, I kept doing what I was supposed to be doing and listening to her talk about different bands (Noh Mercy, The Seemen,,,_Swell Maps.... In any case, she brought up Johnny Rotten's answer to THE R...SWINDLE. I think it's called THE FILTH AND THE FURY. I do want to see it. But I'd rather draw my own conclusions from it than listen to my "friend" and her take on everything.

Oh, the gentry thing. She acts, when I say I'm busy and can't come over tomorrow, she says, "Oh you don't have to make excuses..." This means to me that she couldn't give a shit about my life. I am mere working class--something she aspires to in dress only.

I still miss my kitten.

The blog has been empty recently because I've been doing too many things at once and with alot of rushing around and around, trying not to think about anything but work, of all kinds, from what I do and get paid for and what I do and don't get paid for like doing The Bro Jud on Love Energy show, playing guitar and singing, getting home late. Tonight I got the chance to laugh until I was crying. My friends, another couple, I know, were out tonight in boring Glen Park at the last bit of sleaze in the area, the bar called The Glen Park Station. My friend was tripping, and I was tripping. The air was full of mistrust and yet of the serious desire to have a good time because it was Friday.

The point of all of this is that I couldn't help thinking about something that was distracting me. It was an empty thought in the back of the mind that I couldn't identify. When I was asked if I were preoccupied with something, I had to say yes. But I still don't know what it is. The grief I feel over the loss of my cat Arlo, my friend, my protector, my connection with the sense of family.

I can still laugh, and that is a good thing. It made me cry, which is also a good thing. It's difficult to convey the comingling of loss and desire.

First, I'll Take a Shower.

the course of the nameless blog after 10 days of not writing a thing. THE SLOTH. The Grief. The ...

Tijuana, Ziggie Stardust, and grief.

he last time I went on an airplane was in December of 2001. My friend and I did one of those things to San Diego on the Tijuana line. Tijuana was almost empty because it was December 12, a day of the Virgin. The shops were empty. I bought a ceramic candelabra with dolphins and mermaids and mermen. (I don't have it anymore--another karmic story). It was so cool to be out of this country for a little while and out of the city which is wonderful but can get dull. I think it is now 2007. That was six years ago. Imagine how much I long to see something new!

Six years ago my cat Arlo was 3 and 1/2. He was so cute forever, forever, forever. Whenever anyone came over, he let them know who was also present. He was a friend, "he was all right..." I don't even have to mention that he was one of the more beautiful cats ever created, with sleek black hair and body, green-grass eyes, a small tuft of white hair in each ear and the longest tail I've ever seen on a domesticated cat.

{My mind is swirling, my muscles tense and guarded. My eyes are about to burst. "I want you to walk...")

My cat Arlo is dying.

"Nothing could be more fun than watching an animal die." Have you ever heard anyone express such an opinion? I wonder how people who work in slaughterhouses feel about this.

For me, in the past two years, I have had to watch two animals die: my 17-year-old female cat, Lita (named for guitarist Lita Ford), and now, tonight, my 9 1/2 year-old cat, Arlo (given the name in deference to the poet/activist/musician Arlo Guthrie). Now, the real animal lovers in the crowd would ask, "WHY ARE YOU NOT SPENDING TIME WITH YOUR CAT--instead of writing in your dumb blog?"

The answer is that I can't find him right now. He's hiding in the room. I rented a really heart-filled film from Iran, THE WHITE BALLOON." I thought Arlo and I might watch it together. I hope I find him. Oh, he's under the bed. I will sleep with him tonight and take him tomorrow, if I can get an emergency appointment. It's so awful. He's not even purring.

When Lita was put to sleep, she was purring so was Bat, her son, when he died in the mid-nineties.

Arlo and I will stay together. I can't let him go, that's the problem.

Still in December

It's supposed to be January, but I haven't noticed the difference between December and now. It's really cold. How trite an observation one might comment, but then what else has been said that hasn't already been said? I mean, really. Family Guy and South Park say most of it in new ways. What will be my way of saying it?

"It's my way or the highway." Some people say this. I think they live in the suburbs.

Meanwhile I got my car tuned up this evening. What a miracle. There was no oil in the car's engine. It's really incredible that it was still running. I suppose this is what makes it not December: I got something important done that I was planning to get done during my vacation. It's a good think I didn't go to the ashram this past weekend. Ganesh was letting me know that I hadn't prepared for the journey.

This brings up the question if one can ever truly "prepare" for something or "be prepared to" do something. In Spanish "to be prepared to" is "dispuesto a" which is actually an acjective. I wish I had studied Foucault--it's not too late! The various adjectives for "dispuesto a" are listed: "ready; clever, disposed, helpful."

I saw VOLVER today.

The first "day" of 2007, in the Judeo-Christian tradition and etc. Whatever. It will also be the Year of the Boar in China, and in Southeast Asia New Year's Eve won't be sometime until April something. I hope it's a year full of love, compassion, understanding and healing.

Meanwhile, I saw two films over the weekend: OLIVIER, OLIVIER (1991, France) and VOLVER (2005, Spain). What was common in both films, ironically, because I didn't know what either was "about" before seeing them, was pedophilia. Olivier is raped at the age of 5 or 6, leaves lhis family estate for Paris, gets involved in street sex (it is suggested) and return at 15 to find the old.young Olivier.

VOLVER (from the Spanish verb: "volver" to turn (either up or down, or over) finds the mother--there are a few mothers in this--of the young teenage girl arriving home to find her lover dead. He had been eyeing the young girl in a sexual way, and when he finally attacked her, she killed him with a knife. It turns out the young girl's mother (played by -always-tightly-clad Penelope Cruz) had been raped by her father and bore the young girl in the film who is also her sister.

I can't talk about any of this anymore. Tomorrow I have to return to work and be there at all times for the kids. The hours are the best part of the job: 8:30-3:00 most days. I am trying to look at the positive aspects of this type of work. I wish I were the kind of person who could take a nap. So, getting up early means a long day for me. There are so many creative projects I haven't gotten to (video, music). I also will be doing yoga this year again. I'll make space in my tiny room!

I saw VOLVER today.

The first "day" of 2007, in the Judeo-Christian tradition and etc. Whatever. It will also be the Year of the Boar in China, and in Southeast Asia New Year's Eve won't be sometime until April something. I hope it's a year full of love, compassion, understanding and healing.

Meanwhile, I saw two films over the weekend: OLIVIER, OLIVIER (1991, France) and VOLVER (2005, Spain). What was common in both films, ironically, because I didn't know what either was "about" before seeing them, was pedophilia. Olivier is raped at the age of 5 or 6, leaves lhis family estate for Paris, gets involved in street sex (it is suggested) and return at 15 to find the old.young Olivier.

VOLVER (from the Spanish verb: "volver" to turn (either up or down, or over) finds the mother--there are a few mothers in this--of the young teenage girl arriving home to find her lover dead. He had been eyeing the young girl in a sexual way, and when he finally attacked her, she killed him with a knife. It turns out the young girl's mother (played by -always-tightly-clad Penelope Cruz) had been raped by her father and bore the young girl in the film who is also her sister.

I can't talk about any of this anymore. Tomorrow I have to return to work and be there at all times for the kids. The hours are the best part of the job: 8:30-3:00 most days. I am trying to look at the positive aspects of this type of work. I wish I were the kind of person who could take a nap. So, getting up early means a long day for me. There are so many creative projects I haven't gotten to (video, music). I also will be doing yoga this year again. I'll make space in my tiny room!

Where were we?

The year is coming to an end (kind of--there New Year's celebrations in many cultures at different times), some people look ahead and backward and others just are glad that it is now and that's all that matters. For me, it's all of the above; but I try not to let past and future draw me in.

Today I felt the first pangs of exhaustion that comes from doing too much. Working alot. It's been a good week and a hectic week. I'm glad I feel tired. I need the sleep. One could write a whole treatise and a half about sleep. I recommend "The Confessions of an English Opium Eater" the author of which slips my mind. Sleep can mean lots of things, but mainly surround dreams and visualizations.

Yeah. I need the time to hallucinate, visualize and otherwise dream.

Yesterday was my birthday.

A birthday just records one's solar return; the sun returns to the place it was the "year" before based on the natal chart. One is supposed to be more tired. Perhaps that is why I am drinking so much black tea, chai. Actually, today a good friend of mine gave me thermosful of the chai he makes. I like it so well, that I couldn't resist drinking the whole thing? I've been buzzing ever since! He gave it to me mainly because I was working at the store today. Not that many last minute shoppers, so we had some time to talk. He had been to the ashram in San Ramon the night before and recounted a story told by the swami there.

Apparently Amma had asked him to watch the fanning of a banana leaf that was refreshing her. He had said that so many people wanted to have this honor of fanning Amma, that he was very nervous in carrying it out. Actually, he hit her by accident and Amma gave him this "look." Amma explained to him that the subtle bodies were upset with the way she had been treated although it were an accident. The subtle bodies watch out for Amma.

The question of Amma came up between another friend of mine who is from India. He says that he has no interest in meeting her nor in doing any Hindu practice. This person has the same birthday as me. I thought we might share it (I used to share it with my brother growing up--we're not twins, just two years apart). However, he must have been doing something fun, I hope. I didn't hear from him.

However, I did see a lot of friends today and exchanged gifts and all that. I also saw the film BOBBY. I'm not sure about how I feel about this fictional drama. It has too many Hollywood trashy actors in it. Lawrence Fishburne and Sharon Stone were the most gifted of this ensemble of "actors." The acting aside, the quotes from video footage of Bobby Kennedy was very rewarding to hear. I didn't really know what he said because I was far too young to listen to candidates for office or anything. What I'm getting at is that this man was truly eloquent in speaking from a humanitarian point of view about real problems.

So, it was a good birthday. I felt transformed and somewhat interested in something new to do with my time. I'm not sure yet.

I won't get into how much of a brat I was about the gifts I got.

The time of gift-giving and all that.

Tonight I spoke with a friend with whom I have had a strained relationship for quite a while. This woman talks incessantly about herself and her life ad nauseum. Actually, I just put the phone away from my ear when she starts talking about her week at work, day-by-day, detail-by-detail; all this is about subbing in K-12 schools. SInce I work in a K-12 school, some of this is either quite boring for me or just annoying. When do I get to talk about what happens, day-to-day, detail-to-detail in my week? This person doesn't have time to listen to that. But she must be listened to. (She's mainly German-American.)

Actually, she reminds me alot of my mother--who is far from German-American. She exudes the manic, vaporous, narcissistic tendencies of the "bad" Irish-American matron. Enough about her. At least my mother didn't tell me what she wanted me to buy her for Christmas.

This friend basically told me, when I said I would be making cds for people, that she only wanted Persian, world or Middle eastern music. I was thinking, " Wow, you're limited in your experience of life. Just because you're not into 'rock'any more (even though she likes U2 (yuck--even though Bono has his moments) and Beck (she thinks he's cute, is what I see). there is music she hasn't heard before that is made by experimental, albeit western, musicians. It's cool to be into "world" music, and I really like Indian and Arabic music and know the music of some artists well, I just don't like being told what to buy for someone. This person plays the starving artist (although she is light years away from being starved) and gives people gifts from the thrift store and things she finds on the street. Just because I work really hard--full -time--and have a bit more money than she does, I don't have to buy her anything. I'll check out the Senior Center's thrift store in the neighborhood or go down to Community Thrift and buy her some cups or bowls or something. Yeah, that's it. I'll buy what I know she likes and pay less than I would for the incense!!

"Money, money, money; nickels, nickels, nickels. How I love the sound!" (Lucy lines in "A Charlie Brown Christmas.") Greed, greed go away. I just want to have time to play.

I forgot to mention vacation.

Today is my first day of vacation. I am really enjoying my emotional and intellectual freedom already. I want to go to Mexico for a few days in these two weeks, but I don't have the cash, really. One has to plan for trips, right?

Seeing stars very large and close-up.

I wonder how many people have had the experience of travelling around the city at night while they're eyes are completely dilated. No one can describe the glistening colors, red and charcoal-grey and whites with haloes and sculptures in movement. This is the second Friday for me of spending the evening enjoying the view from my eyes.

Last week I went to the opthalmologist about my eyelid infection. Boring, right? How long (it's been since Halloween--hmm) that my eyelid has been some shade of red and either puffy or just red. Today they told my at the clinic that, looking at both eyes, that...well, both eyelids "kind of look the same." OK, fine. They can't figure out why I got "cellutis" on my eyelid. But when will it go away???

Maybe I should start meditating it away. It's served its purpose in getting me to finally have a full eye exam and all that. Today they told me that I could have had this eye disease at birth. I believe it's weird to have eye issues. So many people deal with them but I never really have had to wear glasses or anything. In any case, they told me that it would probably take a long time--if at all--for my eyes to get to the point where I might need surgery. Ok. I agree with that.

Meanwhile I took my final exam last night in the film class. I wrote about Dorothy Arzner's CRAIG"S WIFE from 1935, one of the Depression years. Arzner was the only female director in Hollywood during the "Studio Years," 1917-1954 or something. (I didn't read the chapter on this.) CRAIG'S WIFE is about a woman who loves her huge, mansion-like house over her husband and everyone else. Because the "Studio Years" were punitive (there was a Production Code written by and enforced by a Catholic layman, Joseph Breen)--if you didn't love your wife or husband or were a gangster or a non-patriot you were somehow punished from above or below. These films are hard to watch. For example, in CASABLANCA Ingrid Bergman makes the correct choice in going off with her husband instead of living with Rick, her lover for a time. Actually, CASABLANCA made me want to puke it was so overdone. CRAIG"S WIFE is disturbing in a different way. The music, the camera angles all point to a woman on the edge--and being vulnerable in that way was not permitted in film depictions until ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST. But that's just my opinion.

The film history test and THE BRO JUD ON LOVE ENERGY SHOW

Thursday I have to take the final exam in my film history class. I really hate art history. It's really subjective, putting parts together that may not fit just to prove some sort of point about nothing. CASABLANCA was so boring. So was STAGECOACH. Actually the latter film was degrading to watch. Being human can't meant that one human has a right over another for grabbing land.

So, I'm not studying for my exam. I've been thinking about what I'm going to read on THE BRO JUD ON LOVE ENERGY SHOW tomorrow night. Also, I want to sing and play one of my songs. I have to work tomorrow. This is such a busy week. I should mention that I'm going to try to understand Jud's utopian plan with alot of love energy.

Studying for the film history test and eye disease.

This semester I took the first half of Film History 20 at City College. One thinks, CIty College...really difficult, huh? Actually, I've not studied so much for a class than since I went to UC Berkeley. I took my papers really seriously. In this class, I have to take the TESTS seriously. He gives us mass information about the early days of film and Hollywood and all that. Classical cutting, parellel editing, the master shot, medium shot, close-up, deep focus cinematography (CITIZEN KANE), reverse shot/shot editing (CASABLANCA), the musical (THE GOLD DiGGERS OF 1933), and etc. I did my paper on the films of the only woman director in Hollywood in the 1930's: Dorothy Arzner. She did melodramas, which, according to our instructor, starred women. My paper dealt with the class struggle depicted in two of her films: THE BRIDE WORE RED and CRAIG'S WIFE. My instructor found my discussion "interesting" but not "deep enough." I didn't make a big deal out of the fact that Dorothy Arzner directed women in films about women. To be honest, I'd rather not have to talk about LIFETIME television. I'd rather watch "Family Guy."

Speaking of what can befall a woman, I'm dealing with the loneliness of having NO BOYFRIEND and having been just diagnosed witih an eye disease--in both eyes. I've had an eyelid infection for almost two months now. The eye disease is in the back of my eyes. It's called "lattice degeneration." A lattice is a physics matter. Apparently, not enough blood flows to the affected area and it breaks down. On Friday when I return to UCSF for my follow-up exam to probe into what might help deflect the onslaught of retinal breakage that results with lattice degeneration.

Not a real font of good news today. Feeling like I want to write a personals ad, since I never meet anyone at work or in the usual places one meets prospective loves. Somehow I'm ready to face this week at work, because Friday after 3 p.m. means Christmas vacation!!!!

Thank God for Stewie.

What would an otherwise lazy night be like without "Family Guy?" IT is so crass and gross and disgusting and cliche but oh so funny--more than once in an episode. Tonight's show was on sexual abstinence for teenagers--especially Meg. The penises are placed next to the ears of the person one might be having an intimate moment with. Hilarious.

Speaking of sex, what is it without love? Someone was telling me today that Amma says that most couples today in lust and not in love. I wonder how she knows this. And, with all she has spoken of karma, wouldn't there be some destiny and payback involved in the whole sexual thing? We haven't even addressed the dharma also implicated.

Nonetheless, I keep dealing with my karma everyday. I worked today at the store. Played a 9 hour cd of Indian classical music after listening the Dalai Lama chanting and Amma's earliest bhajans. It was a good day for music and contemplation.

And, I thank the antibiotic for my eye infection might be really working to get rid of it!

Tonight I took video at The Beat Museum.

Why do I have friends I hardly talk to turn me on to such cool things? Mutual respect but not enough closeness, probably...for whatever reason. I hope we will be better friends after tonight. But my friend asked to shoot video at a performance of woman poets and musicians at The Beat Museum. The Beat Museum is on Broadway and Columbus, really close to City Lights Bookstore. This whole area has such a history of being a creative place. It also is home to the city's strip clubs. My aunt lived in this neighborhood in the fifties and sixties. She was an art collector--mostly California fiftes Abstractionists. I grew up looking at the many paintings in my house and the ones in hers and my other aunts. I loved this palette-knived oil painting of a grove of trees in a medum shot. The painting was quite flat for a painting and yet sculpturally so interesting.

I digress. The Beat Museum. There were original photographs of Ginsburg and Cassady and Kerouac and all the other players in the play. What a perfect place for a performance by women? Especially on Broadway? If I had performed with them, I probably would have shown quite a bit of skin. That's what Broadway--can be about or, at least include. The words were delivered very differently from woman to woman. There so much variety of voice and song. My friend's song was about the Black Panthers (sex included) and Courney Love's implication in the murder of her husband Kurt Cobain. I know that has something to with my avoiding formal wedding and the legal issues involved.

Digressing again. It was alot for me to take in. People were great in abundance as spectators. I tried to include them in the experience. I hate when people look at the camera. I don't want to offend anyone by not acknowledging their presence in the video credits. Nonetheless, there was not too much ego out there tonight. Every performer was quite understated in over-expressing their importance. Substance, what the poems and songs were about was tantamount everest.

I just regret not buying a cd from a young guy who had included his songs on a cd full of well-known rappers. I told him that I didn't really know any of the music. He said I could get into by listening to it. Then, I asked him which song of his was on the compilation. He said, "I'm the guy with that..." or something like that. What did that mean? He said, "I'm one of those kind of guys." Wink wink. "A player,?" I said. "You'll have to find out for yourself when you listen," he smiled. He was just so cute that I could't resist, right" No. I didn't dig his attitude. I kept on video taping and forgot about him. Then I remembered, and I went out to see if he were there. He had told me earlier that I looked like someone who could afford to buy the cd for $5.00. Yeah, maybe, not really, and I work too stressful of a job. Video is much more interesting than teaching--anything...even drumming. I was having tons of fun. Sorry, but I don't think I was ready to listen to the music he had offer or was just off in my own world like he was. The video camera is not even mine, if that's what made me look like I have any money. What is this, I need to make my own cd so that I can trade (barter?) next time. That's what another friend did who had performed. I'll ask her to make me a copy.

In any case, I paid $24. for 3 dvc tapes. I shot two tape's worth. It was a real excursion into the nightmares of having a camera the battery of which now only lasts for about an hour. I kept having to charge the battery there in betweeen the performers. I was sweating!! ( I like to shoot through a rack of t-shirts, camera angle from below. Ozu --

The week from hell has ended.

When does your week "begin"? For those of us who do the 8am to 4p--or whatever--the week begins on Saturday. No, actually Friday afternoon. My Friday afternoon was a resolution of much time spent wondering why November was such a difficult month. The US elections were uninteresting and more of the same to me. Boring. Scary.

My days spent at work were often extremely taxing. I stopped bringing my guitar to work to play for the kids. That's part of the problem. Not staying in touch with my inner rhythms. I NEED to play music and sing and dance. Children with autism also need to move and dance and hear music. Also, I took a week off at Thanksgiving and when I got back on Monday all these social workers had come by and undending social problems were thrust in my face.

Creatively, not much got done this month. I have been so apathetic. I started out painting and ended up doing nothing. The toilet still doesn't flush correctly. Shopping for clothes was uneventful and dull. I only saw Amma once. (I can say seeing Amma was the best moment of the month besides the video I took of my friend and my ex-lover shouting about the minimum wage in the U.S. I shot an hour's worth. (So dedicated, right?) I want to edit it down to 10 minutes or less. My friend couldn't get a word in. People don't like to watch others' frustrations for too long!

Frustration? Try dealing with a karmic debt you don't know how to pay. Your heart is pounding. You can't breathe. The stars are all tugging at your hair. Your hands move but not your voice. This all happened today. I put my forehead on the rug in the meditation room at Love of Ganesha. My face fell into the garlands in the singing bowl. Ganesh always hears me.

I saw Amma yesterday.

I took Monday and Tuesday off from work this week. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday are already holidays. So, I didn't go into work at all this week. I'm writing like this week is over!!! It started on Friday night when I felt really weird and tired but took a video of two friends arguing about the mininum wage. I woke up Saturday morning with a wicked flu. Stayed in bed until Sunday when I worked at a store in the Haight. Monday I cleaned the house and my clothes while I was still sick.

Yesterday morning I drove to San Ramon to see Amma. Every time I see I come back glowing with what must be love. She is the embodiment of love and compassion. There is something very nice about getting a hug from Amma. She has what must be divine love radiating from her pores. Although there were tons of new people there, the vibe was completely chill. No stress. I didn't do any seva, though.

I want to see her in a public program on Friday. The retreat that people are on up there didn't appeal to me because I did it once at this time of year three years ago. If you don't have a boyfriend or friend to stay with, someone of my means has to room with someone unknown. Hotels in general don't appeal to me, but the one I stayed in (for one night!) was right next to the freeway. What a getaway!!!

Negativity and the pull there aside, I am so happy to be able to see Amma at all this year. I've been sick. I don't want to pass it to her or anyone. By Friday I'll be strong enough to drive there and deal with the crowds!

Election Confection Smechtion

Have you every had candy that made you puke? Licorice is one that does it to me. The election coverage by CNN and CO. was so strange and uninteresting that it was not really eye candy (which tv mainly covers) but puke without the awful candy. I voted so completely other than most. I got so disgusted with the ballot that I sent 1 sheet in with no voting on it. As far as the legal people, judges and whatever, I voted "No" on all of them!

The good news was that Berkeley residents overwhelmingly voted to impeach Bush. It is a little known fact that many highly educated people live in Berkeley. There ware people who just understand that it's their right to vote as they feel.

Oh, the blood.

Just got back from seeing THE DEPARTED. WHY so many guns? Why Jack Nicholson as one of the gangsters in Boston who
made no effort to concoct a Bostonian accent! The only things that made this film not just another CSI:Wherever were the dissolves and jump cutting. At one point I had to go to the bathroom, and all I could think of was, "This film is not WILD STRAWBERRIES." But in its editing techniques and rhythm the two had something in common. In Scorcese's film there a lots of shoty adagios (almost like sound bytes sometimes) within the greater work, while in Bergman's film threre are just adagios that overlap.

So many films came to mind when I watched THE DEPARTED: RESERVOIR DOGS, KILL BILL, THE 400 Blows...

"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.