Hollywood Johnny

Somehow this turned into a pretty interesting photograph. There is Holly wood and Hollywood, get it. It is interesting because it shows the top and bottom if you know what I mean. Having your name in lights or going to 'adult school'. Now that is sad, very sad. I think this was the very middle of my weekend in LA rain in Feb. It was Sunday in the semi-famous ghetto; there was a guy buggin me for money when I took this picture. He was sitting on a bus bench like the millions I sat on for years when I grew up there. I had a sack of hamburgers and a gallon of soda. Then I was happy.

Good Feeling

I was on the beltway on Sunday driving over to see my Ma and I had a weird feeling, but it was a good one. There was nothing in particular that was great, but there was a convergence of many little things. The traffic was movings smoothly. The song on my CD was good (South Central Rain) but just good enough to make me feel that way and not think too much. I had gas. In the tank of the car darn it. The sun was out. It was June. Then I noticed all the trees. And I realized: I have a good job, I live in the richest society in the history of the world, I am as healthy as a horse, no one close to me is sick or ill right now, I have family that cares about me...it was just a rush of feeling-thoughts that occured for about 12 seconds. I have not done a very good job of reconstructing it here but you know what I mean. Then I began to think about what I had just thought about. And then, to paraphrase Lou Reed, it flickered for a moment, and then vanished and was gone. Just like a lightning bug. One of my three wishes would be to have the ability to live in that moment at will, because that is a good feeling.

Primal Prayer

In the time when God created all things, he created the sun.
And the sun is born and dies and comes again.
He created the moon,
And the moon is born and dies and comes again.
He created the stars,
And the stars are born and die and come again.
He created man.
And man is born and dies and comes not again.

Primal African Prayer
Dinka, Sudan

Perspective

You are a small speck of this. As am I and every other atom in the universe. Cosmic dust, how do we come together? We all began together and we all go together. We can't be created, or destroyed. the moon arcs the earth which arcs the sun which arcs our galaxy which arcs the nearest large galaxy containing more mass. And then the arcing forms an ellipse, one star or planet or galaxy orbiting another in a dance. The galaxies themselves spin elliptically in accordance with the rules. We can't be created, or destroyed. Matter exists, it takes forms. But there are no spills. So behold and take a rest. After all you can't be created, and you can't be destroyed. Enjoy.

Many Years Gone

Scroll through this list,

http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/2003/iraq/forces/casualties/

and imagine all of the wasted lives. Most are in their 20s, so that is about a half century of life foregone, multiplied by 1700, that is 85,000 years and counting.

El Dia de Los Padres

Today is father's day. I wonder when that began and whose idea was it anyway? I would wager a high amount it wasn't a father. I for one would really rather not have a day, but then I guess I am different. Being a father and being a mother are drastically different, it seems. There should be mother's day on a quarterly basis, while father's day should be held every four years, like the olympics. Just make me King, I will fix everything. I promise.

Four AM

I wonder what does AM stand for? Well it does not matter very much right now; I am only good for about four hours of sleep per night, no matter how much I exercise or how much I drink. I believe my brother is getting divorced, but I am not sure. My daughter turns twenty years old today; she went out last night and will be back at some point. She turns my hair gray I suppose I should be grateful, like thanksgiving in June. There are many Pats in my family. My late father (a/k/a the Bear), his name was Patrick. Then there is my middle name, yeah, it is Patrick. I have two nephews, their name is Patrick. I also have a nephew who is Sean Patrick. My big brother's first name is Patrick. It could be a lot worse, imagine if all those same names were Herman or something.

I will have to carry my own toilet paper about in the Philippines, but that is fine with me. I am trying to master the concepts of hiya and amor-propio right now so I will not be a jolly stupid white giant when I go over there. I will be 9 degrees north of the equator...funny thing about those lattitudes that are so close to the equator, there is no sunset, the sun just drops into the ocean like an inane golf ball. There is no gloaming...maybe that is why people don't contemplate as much, a good solid gloaming is required for that. On the other hand, I will spend one night in an acacia treehouse, at least, so I will be able to think. And there is a sunken cemetery, it was submerged the last time the volcano really blew in 1871. I want to swim through the underwater graves.

I remember when the TV used to go off the air around 2AM, back before cable, that was kind of nice.

What happened to that hippie generation, people born between 1945 and 1960? They were supposed to change the world and make love free and end all wars. Now they seem to have grown up and drive SUVs and vote republican so they won't have to pay taxes or worry about their gifted babies on board who will grow up to hate them. I suppose it is the weight of the world that dragged them down, no hard feelings, it is rather amusing now to think about them. I told my daughter that nothing was free, that everything is bought, sold, or owned, even the air; of course she had a retort, that love was free. (!) Fachrissake, that is the most costly thing of all! I did not bother to respond...anyway, so this hippie thing seems to continue, I suppose because it is a feeling which is warm, but so is pissing in your pants, but only in the moment. It feels quite a bit different after a while.

I saw a pretty girl, then I saw her watching the Fox News Channel, and she morphed into an ugly chick. Her nose turned into a dagger, her skin became poison, her eyes bullets, her ears looked like violet stained anger leaves. I won't speak to her.

It is very nearly five AM

http://66.51.113.241/~enigmata/

I am going to sleep in the treehouse.

Coffee Suicide

I remember when I was in college I figured out that if a person ingested 70 cups of coffee s/he would croak. I read something about it...it turns out that is not a pleasant way to exit this world. It became a catchphrase though, and I employed it. If someone said something and there was that blank part of air with no vibrations in it I would just say SEVENTY CUPS TO DEATH. No one was ever able to make anything out of that. What would you say?