Monday, June 26, 2006

Tell Me Who I Am

This morning, driving home in my station wagon, the sun was out bright and just low enough in the sky that the trees and the roof tops were golden. I had such a strong urge to lay in grass at that moment--to look up at the sky and listen to the birds. I almost forgot I was rushing from one job to the next trying to make extra money. And cruising down my street, nearing my home, the last four years of college flashed through my memory. People that'd visited my porch to talk, the hammock I'd laid in during lazy summer afternoons, frustration with ideas.

Then came a song on the radio at that exact time that fit my mood perfectly. Logically. I didn't know the name of it at the time and I've literally spent the entire day trying to find it, but finally now, two minutes before midnight, I've found it. It encapsulates my sentiments exactly and here it is: The Logical Song by Super Tramp.

When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful,
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.
And all the birds in the trees, well theyd be singing so happily,
Joyfully, playfully watching me.
But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible,
Logical, responsible, practical.
And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable,
Clinical, intellectual, cynical.

There are times when all the worlds asleep,
The questions run too deep
For such a simple man.
Wont you please, please tell me what weve learned
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am.

Now watch what you say or theyll be calling you a radical,
Liberal, fanatical, criminal.
Wont you sign up your name, wed like to feel youre
Acceptable, respecable, presentable, a vegtable!

At night, when all the worlds asleep,
The questions run so deep
For such a simple man.
Wont you please, please tell me what weve learned
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

MMM hmmm.

Yes. Oh yes, your seeing with your third eye. That spirit with the flaming beard and the piercing eyes that look like a hurricane of love--that is the Arch Angel Zadkiel,the mecazaian spirit talked about in the Vedas. Now, brother, I want you to do something for me. I want you to go to the mirror and look into it. Stare into your own eyes and say, "I am worth it, I am strong." Say it again. And again. Good. Feel the energy around you. Do you feel that? Good.

If you really want to ascend you have to do this for me: Don't think, just feel. Your life might be spinning out of control. Confusion clouds your shakra. Shrug off confusion. Cast away all rational thought. It is about energy and subjectivity. You are a light being. Light can only bend and expand and touch. Blend with the light. For all is light and thou are light, brother.

You may feel guilt. Abandon it. There is no evil only divine perfection. All is perfect for you see, all is God. The most important thing is to question reality. Through questions we find the path. It doesn't matter what path your on or what answers you find, only that you do not judge others. For their paths are their own and as viable as any. Truth is much like light, it vibrates on multiple frequencies.

I can see your aura and it is the color of God, my brother.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Ramandu's Proverb of the Day

Filthy language from the lips of a pretty woman makes her instantly repulsive. Listen women: accessorize with fair language and you won't have to spend money on jewelry.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Take Me On Board

I came across an article at RedNova pertaining to the rumors that the new Superman is going to be a homosexual. I laughed out loud while reading this passage:

After weeks of Internet buzzing that the new Superman movie portrays the Man of Steel as gay, the director of the film issued a strong denial on Friday and said it was the most heterosexual character he has filmed.

In other news, I find myself longing for space aliens to abduct me. I want to be an extraterrestrial's pet--to curl up on it's chest and nap.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

No War for Cake

I'm frustrated with the job market so I walked to the store and bought myself a carrot cake to feel better. At the cross-road, that mad house of an intersection where Lakeway meets Holly, waiting for the crossing signal, I was marooned. To my dismay there were other people on the corner with me though they weren't waiting to cross the street. They did have a giant sign that required three men to hold which read, "IMPEACH THE WHOLE ADMINISTRATION". Other signs read, "BUSH IS THE WORST PRESIDENT EVER", "BUSH IS A PUPPET" and "HONK FOR IMPEACHMENT".

Drivers were honking and waving.

Not wanting to be mistaken for part of the demonstration, I stood quietly, focusing my thought on the red light. Maybe I could use the force to change the red light to green putting myself closer to the task I'd created for myself: inhaling sugary baked goods.

Traffic is unending. The city empties in the morning and then fills again in the evening. Suburu Outbacks, Land Rovers, Toyota 4runners--vehicles made for north westerners. Tools to take REI shoppers high into the Cascades, into the mud and snow where they can pitch their gortex tents and before nodding off, do a bit of office work on their laptop computers. I ponder, why are cars made for urban combat and the back country necessary when driving the best paved roads in the world?

I see another sign held by a retired gentleman that reads, "OIL WAR".

What do these people want? We live a complex world. Unfortunately people demand cheap goods, big homes, bullet proof cars, fast food, carrot cake on demand. It takes roads, rails, and sea ways to bring us these things. When our goods are threatened, we go to war to secure them. It has always been like that, yes even B.W. (Before Dubbya). Every time someone makes a comment about the dieing children in Iraq or the young soldiers dieing at the hands of Bush the imbecile and Cheney, Satan incarnate, I wonder if they aren't legally retarded. Do they really have that poor of an understanding of how reality works?

I pretend to be a wizard sometimes. I also wish there was world peace and that we could all lay in a field with docile lions and smoke weed all day. (I don't say that mockingly. I really do wish that.) Though I'd love to be a lion tamer in a world covered by rain forests, I also know that we have to work towards that vision. I work towards it by eating; others as members of congress, as teachers and inventors, builders and doctors.

Maybe Bush has done something wrong. I don't know. The signs didn't say anything about it--only that everyone should be fired.

Then what?

The signal flashed a light picture of a man walking and so I started walking. Half way through the intersection the signal started a countdown of how much time I could expect to live if I stayed in the intersection. Four...Three...Two...One. I just stepped onto the adjacent curb when another line of cars roared by me, honking and waving.

Monday, June 12, 2006

The Adventures of BR part Duex

I wake up in my cave under the mountain. My tongue is dry and ashy from all the smoke rings I blew last night at the casino and the three plates of buffet food are like a brick in my bowels. Naturally my first thought is, Sunday breakfast: Biscuits, gravy, grease, black coffee. I rouse my girlfriend, "Dear lets go get breakfast." I don't want to make a production out of it. I'm thinking truck stop. A place where a run down middle age waitresses will refill my coffee every minute. But no. Jessi calls her girlfriends and they decide we're going to eat at a trendy, expensive, artsy hippy restaurant in the intellectual district of town.

I attempt a fight for my manhood. I stand up, cast aside my rags and reveal my black robe underneath. Damn it female! I am a powerful wizard. I raise my staff and shoot lightening at her head. She cowers and says, "oh baby, you are buff and wise and we will do whatever you want. In fact why don't I make you breakfast--naked."

That's better, I approve with fire still smoldering in my eyes. My falcon lands on my shoulder.

Yep, Sunday Breakfast.

Friday, June 09, 2006

The New Adventures of Black Robe: Episode One

I walked out of the restaurant happy. My stomach was filled with fish tacos and the pungent taste of humus still lingered on the back of my tongue. The air was warm and the sky, clear. The sound of banjos and laughter snuck over the fence enclosing the beer garden and broke softly on my ears. The embroidered stars in my black robe caught and reflected the soft blue light of the moon. In night I wear living constellations. I kicked a stone that lay in the street and lifting my head to the heavens, whistled.

"Ah," I sighed, "Tis good to be a wizard."

"You better have life insurance, walking in the street like that you sonovabitch wizard-guy," a spiteful voice proclaimed from an open drivers side window. Turning my head slightly to the right, I spied my foe. A hippy with golden shoulder length locks and rosy cheeks. A bumper sticker, like his own personal national flag, read "One less SUV". I nodded, "I can only assure you of one thing, my fine fellow: it is a fine spring evening full of sound and smell. Breath deeply with me and let us love together."

"What the hell? Are you some kind of fairy?" He turned to his car companions, three trendy intellectual girls with brown legs and black rimmed glasses, "Look at this fruit. What a douche!" The women laughed at me and pawed at my foes chest and ran their fingers through his thick hair. "Later loser!” he jeered as he prepared to spin his tires in the dust.

A fury burned then, not only in my loins but in my eyes. A gust of wind blew through the parking lot and a banjo string over yonder twanged and broke. My own hair drank of the wind and unfurled, whitening and tripling in length. With my staff (which I was carrying the whole time) I smote the pavement and roared, "Great fool, I offer you friendship, my fellow man, as we share both time and place in history on this a pleasant city night, and you repay me with mockery. You are in league with the dark lord and I will exercise his spirit from your lips!!!" Lightening flickered while colors of all kinds issued forth out of my robe. Then a great cloud enveloped my foes car and screams could be heard--then giggling and then laughter. I turned my foe into a mule and his car into a cart--a love cart decorated with flowers and moss. Seagulls, my underlings, flew a short distance above the cart with lengths of silk and lace in their beaks. The three women, I turned in to fine maids, lovely to look at and absolutely submissive to my will.

I climbed into the cart and the three women groped at me. Striking the mule, my former foe, with my staff, we rode into the night.