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

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

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

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

Pee Wee and Spanish

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

Pee Wee and Spanish

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

Twisted Sister rocks.

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

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

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

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

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

Back to the Ashram

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

Yesterday was Shivaratri

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

Happy Birthday to Me.

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

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

What's 'a mattah with Petah?

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

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

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

The stomach speaks volumes and reports the news.

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

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

The nut is at the table.

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

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

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

Broken Flowers and mended skirts.

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

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

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

Accupuncture and Genocide

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

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

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

The Year of the Dog

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

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

First Day Back to Work

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

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

Tomorrow we'll have music.

Angela Davis is important.

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

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

Shiva or Krishna?

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

Rodney's Goodbye

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


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

Now and Zen Mermaids and Guitars, Lovers and Love Energy

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

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

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

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

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

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