This week is "Spirit Week" at our daughter's high school, and of course, as one of the beautiful people, she is anxious to participate in as many of the events, as enthusiastically as possible. I think it's all well and good to have "school spirit", to be proud of the environment in which you have been (usually somewhat abitrarily, but in this case, via testing in and living in the right parish) placed in order to further your education that you might have life, abundantly, with more than a minimum wage job. However, I am reminded of the somewhat harsh attitude that the "beautiful people" have towards those not quite so blessed, physically, socially or gracefully. And as I remember back to my own high school days, I am offended by the "Dress Like a Nerd Day" and other such high points. To make it fair, I think they should also have "Dress Like an Ignorant Project Dweller" ... that way, those nerds (and oh, I remember being one oh so well) will have less to write in their grudge books against the day when they run Microsoft and can refuse the ex-cheerleaders and footballers a job. But that would be too close to home, IPD day. They would have to walk through neighborhoods where some of those people live, with their straighened hair, vinyl clothes, prison-quality tattoos, gold teeth, hair nets, bad weaves, and so on. And the beautiful people might not be so beautiful after that experience. At least with the nerds, they are safely betting that no one is going to challenge or offer to beat them up.

The problem, of course, with Dress Like a Nerd Day is that the people that they are making fun of don't lack fashion sense because they have an excess of brains. Their concern is not with appearance first, which of course is a direct and harsh affront to the beautiful people who favor substance over style. They dress for comfort, and dress more cheaply, because their parents (bless 'em every one) decided that their children would be better off having $200 worth of books rather than $200 sneakers.

But the beautiful people will have their way, of course. And the terrible thing is that the only people who are interested in "dorking" themselves out and dressing "nerdy" are those people who could wear potato sacks and still look good. They aren't sacrificing anything by dressing down (except, as earlier noted, the potential for a second interview with the Bill Gates of the future). They are not dressing up as geeks to proclaim unity of the intelligent masses. They are being, as of course, teenagers will be except when it directly affects their own, personal sense of well-being, mean-spirited, cruel and ugly. The geeks know it. And most of the teachers do to - because most of them have been there on the receiving end.

So what's my point? Who the fuck knows. It just irritates me that some things never change. Oh, yeah, I forgot. Some things do. Beauty fades. Styles change. Substance remains.

Life is good, after all :)

I wrote this poem last year when stardances and I went to Hawaii together. I wrote this poem after she and I performed a thanksgiving ritual at the shore early one morning a day before we were to leave the islands.

Walking down the shoreline at Honaunau,
where Pele washes her long dark tresses
in the surf that pounds the end of the earth
and the ancient heiau throbs with mana
like a glowing chakra along her spine,
I arrive at the City of Refuge.

Here the new world is still coming to life,
coming down the mountain from its fire womb;
and to release its spirit to the sea
it too flows to this sacred island place.
Birth and rebirth are the same event here,
and the cast away is gathered again.

At this edge of the world I am renewed,
and my spirit follows the offered leis
tossed into the beckoning, waiting sea,
across the bay in the morning sunlight,
wafting their fragrant and delicate scent
on the gentle breeze that is Kane's breath.

Kanaloa, lord of the mighty deep,
accept from my hand this small, fragile gift -
from one who has crossed your great span safely,
and found Lono's kindling to fire my soul,
set alight by your blazing brother, Ku;
hear my thankful words of praise and longing.

The mist rises, returning to Waikea,
as the glorious creation awakes;
and across poi'hoihoihoi and a'ah
I retrace my careful steps from the edge,
leaving a small part of me on the beach,
taking in exchange only aloha.

24 OCT 2001

Hawaiian word glossary:

Pele: Goddess of fire who lives in the volcano at Kilakeau
heiau: sacred spirit temple
mana: lifeforce, spirit, energy
Kane: God of air, clouds, fresh water
Kanaloa: God of the ocean
Lono: God of vegetation, forests, land
Ku: God of fire, war, hearth
Waikea: The realm of the Gods, a mystical invisible island
poi'hoihoihoi: the large, ropey lava flow
a'ah: crunchy, broken, lava pieces
aloha: greeting/farewell...love within and without, surrounding in all things
Pu'ohonua O Honaunau: place of refuge at Honaunau
Pu'ohonua: place of refuge (anyone who was to be killed for breaking kapu [taboo] 
could be purified by the priests at the place of refuge and then could begin their life again - 
without fear of death or revenge).

I always see a lot of "positive thinking" sites on the 'net that deal with giving yourself affirmations to empower yourself. So many of these sites seem to treat affirmation as something "new and exciting" that psychologists have just recently discovered, and that despite the efforts of Norman Vincente Peale has just recently been found useful to improvement of the human condition.

Well, I just recently purchased a new translation of a very old book, and was very moved by a particular section that I quote in part here:

May I stand amazed in the presence of the gods.
May the rhythm of my heart stir Music that enslaves darkness.
May my heart witness what my hands create, the words I utter, the worlds I think.
May my flesh be a sail propelled by the breath of dream.
May I ride in calm waters toward destiny.
May life flow through me as the seed from the phallus flows, with a shout of joy, life begetting life.
May I stand in the midst of celestial fire until my heart is molten gold.
May twelve goddesses dance every day about me, a circle of flesh aflame.
May I spin among them, my face flushed with heat.
May I walk on earth radiant, everywhere complete.
May the omniscient eye observe my deeds and know the law my heart knows, the zodiac of men and beasts alive, the call of angels, the word.
May my body bend toward the will of the heart.
May I not think and act diversely.
May truth rest on me light as a tail feather dropped from a falcon in cloudless sky.
May I create words of beauty, houses of wonder.
May the labor of my hands be mirrors unto the gods.
May I dance in the gyre and draw down heaven's blessing.
May I be given a god's duty, a burden that matters.
May I make of my days a thing wholly.
May I know myself in every pore of skin.
May the god's fire burn in my belly and heart.
May I be stronger than these bones and bits of flesh.
May my health be the wholeness of divinity.
I remember the names of my ancestors. I speak the names of those I love. I speak their names and they live again.
May I be so well-loved and remembered.
In truth, may the gods hear my name.
May I do work with my hands worth remembering.

-- from the speeches of Osiris, Awakening Osiris - The Egyptian Book of the Dead, Normandi Ellis

If I could be anywhere in the big wide world
I'd want to be right where I am
I'd rather be on the outside on a natural mystic
than pretending that i don't give a damn

not into breakdown confusion or some mad delusion
thinking I'm in control of some plan
or trying to show anybody the one grain of truth
that's somehow separate from the rest of the sand

me and you...ain't nothing better to do
yes it's true...cosmo-significant blues

if i could have anything in the whole damn store
I'd want to keep everything that i own
i'd rather have just a little that means something to me
than be a get more junkie or clone
not into keep up appearances and miss the experience
thinking there's nothing left to be shown
or trying to prove anything to the disbelievers
that prey on you when you get alone

me and you...ain't nothing better, it's true
the sum of two...cosmo-significant blues

there can be life ever after in the here and now
when there is more than the surface to see
there can be revolution in the smallest of thoughts
when there's a chance you can truly be free

me and you...ain't nothing left to get through
yes it's true...cosmo-significant blues

if i could meet anyone in this mixed up crowd
I'd want to find out whose keeping it real
I'd rather burn with the witches who aren't living a lie
than survive by proposing a deal

not into representation of a bad situation
thinking it's better just not to feel
or trying to talk without walking down the road less traveled
just waiting round for the turn of the wheel

me and you...ain't nothing better to do
yes it's true...cosmos significant blues

me and you...ain't nothing else that I'd choose
want those true...cosmos significant blues

07 JUL 2000

Maybe the world will end tomorrow or maybe the sun will shine
Maybe the worst is yet to happen or maybe it's left behind
Maybe today we'll learn the answer or maybe there's none to find
Maybe there's really no one listening or maybe it's I don't mind

Maybe outside we'll find religion or maybe it's there inside
Maybe because will serve our purpose or maybe the prophets lied
Maybe enough will come to reason or maybe we all decide
Maybe there's really nothing out there or maybe it's on our side

Maybe the truth is not a sentence and maybe the question why
Maybe the goal is not the lesson and maybe the ways you try
Maybe the sky will rain tomorrow and maybe the sun will shine
Maybe the best things never happen and maybe it's always fine
Maybe today we'll start to listen and maybe become divine
Maybe there's really nothing to it and maybe it just takes time

Maybe belief will turn to action and maybe its time will come
Maybe until will be our language and maybe we'll be struck dumb
Maybe enough will start to listen and maybe the voice will numb
Maybe there's life inside the many and maybe it's only one
Maybe the truth is not the answer and maybe the question why
Maybe the way is in the journey and maybe you learn to fly.

16 SEP 2000

Maybe I'm getting all my recent Lyrics together with a view to recording the ones I like the best...here's another one, from late last year :)

Everybody's got a right to disagree with your position
Everybody's got a vision of their own ideal condition
And sometimes it's something you don't understand
and things don't turn out exactly like you planned

Everybody's got a different take on their own situation
Everybody's got their unique expression of sensation
And it doesn't always make you feel all right
or it keeps you up all hours of the night

There's a world that you can't see
And all I really know is me and my own mind
But I'll gladly let you in
share the places that I've been and what I find

Everybody's got a way that they just like to do things
Everybody knows a secret song by heart nobody else sings
And sometimes it may not have too many words
and at certain times may sound a bit absurd

Everybody's got their own interpretation of the seasons
Everybody's got a different definition of good reasons
And they don't always make that much sense to me
and it causes us to sometimes disagree

There's a world outside my wall
and sometimes I can't fit it all in what I know
But I'll surely give you time
to match your edges up with mine and we'll both grow

We're both puzzle pieces of the same whole
We've both got a leading part in our own role

Everybody's got a handle on a different plan of action
Everybody has interpretation of self satisfaction
And it's not like they can't both be right and wrong
and be altered if a new one comes along

Everybody's got their own ideal of what defines perfection
Everybody's got to make an individual connection
And it's not like it won't happen anytime
or be quite the road you thought that you might find

There's a world where can stand,
Co-exist in land that's undivided
And we'll gladly meet as friends
You just have to tell me when you've decided

Because you're invited.

01 NOV 2001

Here's a song I wrote earlier this year that I particularly like - it seems to fit into my current frame of mind :)

You thought you'd just take a look, find it in forbidden books
And when the old foundation shook you'd learn
Maybe secrets you would find unlock the power of your mind
and change the fate of all mankind in turn
But the seeds of revolution don't just grow
You can't wave your hand imagining it is so

You made it a test of will now the abyss is waiting still
And adding your life doesn't fill it in
Maybe on the other side somewhere beyond greed and pride
The path is there, you must decide, begin
For the seeds of revolution must be sown
If want to call the thoughts you have your own

You imagine worlds of light where truth and lies are black and white
And with the gift of second sight you'll rule
Maybe change the universe, make it sane or even worse
behind ambition madness lurks, and fools
For the seeds of revolution are within
And there isn't any prize to lose or win

In the grasp of your desire
Can you see the way is not to just have what you want
It's about love, and being part of everything
As your passion burns with fire

Can you see that things are only here and then they're gone
The wheel is song, and you need only start to sing
You thought in a grain of sand hidden was the master plan
And finding it, alone you'd stand and know

Maybe teach the world to grow based on your informed say so
And change the very way the river flows
But the seeds of revolution are in your mind
And the harvest isn't something you can find
And the seeds of revolution cannot grow
If you don't release their power, let them go

For the seeds of revolution are in you
And the flower find its roots in what you do.

14 JAN 2002

Here's a silly song for ... well, maybe not so silly after all.

You could be anything in the world that you want to be
You could have anything you want and that's no lie
You could ask anyone for love and you would get it
So why are do want to be here at my side?

You could get anywhere that you want to go when you want to go
You could live anyplace that you like and that's so true
You could open your heart to so much more than I will ever be
So how did I become the one for you?

I don't pretend to understand your motivation
It is a mystery to me the way it stands
I don't believe that you would choose me for no reason
So now I have to prove I'm good enough
To be your loving man...

You could love anyone, your options are open-ended
You could get anything you needed, yes indeed
You could turn any head that you thought was the right one
So how did you decide that it was me?

I don't pretend to comprehend your heart's selection
It is a mystery that I don't understand
I don't believe that you would opt for imperfection
So now I have to prove I'm good enough
To be your loving man...

You could be anything in the world you want to be
You could have anything that you want, and that's no line
You could never belong to anyone that wasn't everything you want
So I still can't believe you wanted to be mine.

20 OCT 2002

I haven't written a song for stardances in quite a while, and this one kind of crept up on me this evening. Perhaps its more of that Beatleish mood I've been in ... the last one was a John-like thing, and this one seems more like a George.

for Sondra Galyn

There's something in your eyes that makes me happy
I think it's what you see when you see me
Behind my sad disguise I find you looking
To find the truth inside and set it free

There's something in your smile that makes me want you
I think it's how you know just where I stand
Inside my secret self I find you laughing
It makes me glad to know that I'm your man

And when you tell me that you love me
I realize that it is real
There is no pretense or confusion
And no question of the way I feel

There's something in your touch that feels like sunshine
I think it's your connection to the light
That sends a spark to deep inside my shadows
To burn away the darkness of my nights

There's something in your laugh that makes me love you
I think it's that you share your heart with me
And take from me the best I have to offer
Knowing that the best is yet to be

And when you tell me that you love me
I understand that it is so
There is no pretense or confusion
I don't need to question it to know

There's something in your eyes that makes me happy
I think it's what you see when you see me
And there I am reflected in your vision,
The person that I know that I can be.

20 OCT 2002

Does anyone remember that Beatles song (penned by Lennon), The Word - I think it was on Rubber Soul ... it went "Say the word, and be like me, say the word, and you'll be free, say the word I'm thinking of, and you know the word is love ..." and so on? I was just thinking about writing that kind of hook into a song, you know, the repetitive beginning and ending line (each verse begins with the same phrase, and each chorus ends with those same words, which of course is one of the standard Irish bardic patterns, although I'm not sure that John Lennon knew that explicitly - some things make their way into pop culture on the sly, despite all the established discouragement)...

Anyway, I came up with this new lyric to match that sort of pattern.

I've got time to let the good things come as they will
I've got time to listen to the fool on the hill
I've got time to watch the empty glass start to fill
You won't catch me trying to keep the second hand still

I've got time to let the grass grow under my feet
I've got time to taste of kisses warm and so sweet
I've got time to separate the chaff from the wheat
You won't find me out in the rushed and bustling street

Used to be I was so worried and stressed
Trying to rush out and find happiness
Now I just wait and the waiting is fine
I'm in no hurry, cause I've got time

I've got time to sit and talk with lovers and friends
I've got time to look beyond all the latest trends
I've got time to see more than beginnings and ends
You won't catch me at the last minute making amends

Used to be I was concerned with the date
Trying to make sure I wouldn't be late
Now I just relax and things work out fine
I'm in no hurry...cause I've got time

I've got time to just enjoy what comes 'til it goes
I've got time to watch the river as it just flows
I've got time to figure out what I've got to know
You won't find me out trying to race the wind as it blows

19 OCT 2002

I know you surf the message boards
Trolling for something to sneer about
I have no doubt
You've seen my latest word
I know you think you know it all
Walking that line between fear and doubt
That's what it's about
Stalking the absurd
I know you have an opinion
And feel the need to share it here with me
It's all too plain
You enjoy trauma and pain
I know you want to change the world
Into something weak and stupid
But what is it
That makes you think you're sane?
Take your time and think about it
You don't have to answer me today
I wasn't doing anything that makes much difference
to you anyway
Take your time and think about it
You don't have to prove your case to me
I don't believe your honesty, your false revolt
and these sad games you play
I know you check your email often
Hoping for a vindicating post
I have no doubt
You've read my latest lines
I know there's nothing in this world
To make you want to care
You've given up
On changing anything
I know you think that tearing down
Is making room for something
It's pretty clear
Destruction's dear to you
I know you think there's something cool
About defrocking every fool
In your empty world
Have you hoarded some great pearl?
Take your time and think about it
You don't have to answer me today
After all my time is not worth much to you,
admit it, won't you?
Take your time and think about it
You won't bother me with your sad statistics
I don't believe your cause, your faith is lost
Who needs you?

18 OCT 2002

If I hurl vitriolic gobs of hate-filled angst
at the speed of aborted thought
down the ink-blood edge of an angry pen;
take as my heroes those
who defined life as the bitter sentence
terminated with the punctuation
of death by misadventure;
hold up as great art
the misanthropic, grotesque
and deliberately misunderstood -
sex-as-violence-as-power-as-reality ...
if that is the depth of my understanding,
the thumbnail
on the whole of everything there is to know
that I swear
is the end all and be all of knowledge;
if the only tones of voice I know
are the pitiful scream, the pathetic whimper
and the cruel mad homicidal howl,
am I an artist, a poet, a Musician?
Or am I just another mongrel drone,
discouraged by my own impotence but unwilling
to invest the effort necessary to grow beyond appearances,
clawing desparately at a piece of society's entrail
wrapped in a sugar coating of shit,
because I refuse the possibility
of a rose?

Your angst is not new.
Your mediocre nihilism is not exciting or stimulating.
Your voice does not carry a tune,
speak to the world,
or resonate with the gods,
no matter how bloody you make their hands.

It is crap.

Don't make it into a sandwich
and pretend that it is satisfying.

Fertilize a garden, instead.

15 OCT 2002

What we think is less than what we know; What we know is less than what we love; What we love is so much less than what there is. And to that precise extent we are so much less than what we are. -- R.D. Laing, The Politics of Experience

The term nonsense is one of the most baffling words in our vocabulary. It has a negative quality only, like death. Nobody can explain nonsense: it can only be demonstrated. To add, moreover, that sense and nonsense are interchangeable is only to labor the point. Nonsense belongs to other worlds, other dimensions, and the gesture with which we put it from us at times, the finality with which we dismiss it, testifies to its disturbing nature. Whatever we can not include within our narrow framework of comprehension we reject. Thus profundity and nonsense may be seen to have certain unsuspected affinities. -- Henry Miller, Sexus

Sitting here waiting in New Orleans between the weather induced by tropical storm Isidore and hurricane Lili, I am thinking about the negative space, the shadow between events, the silence between the notes that makes a succession of events a melody, the patterns of rise and fall that make a life. The lull between storms. I understand that place very well. It seems as if all my life that has been a place where I can be found. When I was growing up, my existence was defined as those periods between things - whether they were my father's explosive interactions with me, experiences of popularity split by long stretches of isolation, wild creative bursts of inspiration separated by deep, dark nothing depressions, times when poems and songs and stories and words just flowed endlessly from me, overflowing the levees and seeping into all parts of my world that too often passed and left me standing in stagnant, brooding water.

Every artistic or creative person at some time, in some fashion, embraces this manic-depressive cycle, anticipates it, longs for it. It is, after all, the interaction with the muses that sparks the electricity, jerks us out of the mundane and into the magickal, pulls us from the ordinary and sometimes quite painfully drags us into proximity to the extraordinary. A coastline between hurricanes is like an artist who has worked in oils and after a period of inactivity begins to work in clay - an artist between mediums is a very unpredictable force. To me, this is a natural state. I know that this void will soon be filled with lightning, storms, torrential rains, buffeting winds and rising tides. I can feel the undertow growing even now, a sense in the pit of my stomach that tells me that once again, I have failed to rest well in preparation for the upcoming time of trial. For it is a trial, getting through the mania in one piece, finding enough focus to get it all down in a manner that expresses it adequately, seeking the calm center of the eye so that the squalls of the eye wall don't drag me too far off course, destroying the civilized place where I hunker down, waiting and watching the sky for signs of significance. As Annie Lennox once sang, "here comes the rain again." As Robert Zimmerman put it, "a hard rain's a-gonna fall."