What is man to do in the few days o

Losing enthusiasm in the guitar playing....not sure why, but partially ..actually the guitar playing is going great.  I've developed a great style, and have more versatility.

now I just need money.  

down at the beanery

The point being, suffused somehow, in an aura of innocent romanticism,  of this beauty was more than he could bear, especially as he was a fan of women...who understands the predilections of the male mind?  He was feeling somewhat loathsome and sorry earlier in the day, having seen the sweat off a Heineken....and received a mechanism in the ....forgot my train of thought.

Life being what it is...

walked down to the local seven eleven for an ice cream bar.  Some things never change.  At Chateau in Berkeley I'd walk down to the one on Telegraph, get a pint of ice cream, eat it all, throw it in the closet....while playing guitar.   Man, I was inconsiderate in those days.

went down to harrison

 I had given up on that bar because of too many hassles, but also I quit drinking, but anyway, walked down...nice walk, ...the band wasn't really my style and I didn't want to drink, so I left, although I wanted to see Old Age and Wups, but they weren't on yet, or something.

OMG, no real human contact today IRL, other than various text messages, emails, and ..well, actually I did quite a bit.

recorded a couple songs.

Man did I feel baked out there.  I had smoked a bunch of weed and when I went out I could barely think.  So now I'm home smoking more...play some music too.

Life's good.

It's frozen pizza night

consuming a frozen pizza...for the eleven pm food.

what a great time..

what a great time I had yesterday jamming with all these luminaries of the local music scene,   So yeah, very nice to harmonize on a song.  That's all good.

In other news, ......I'm going to do very little tomorrow.

"do you know any other people like yourself?"

in what sense?  Pretty baked, playing guitar...life's good.

i'm a multitasker, trying to smoke weed, drink coffee, and play guitar at the same time.

Alex had been...

Alex had been riding out by himself over in Chinatown trying to find a sector for, we drifted over to North Beach...this was a while ago, when SF was still cool....so anyway I said that the thing about Diana is she's really beautiful which is actually the cool thing in a lot of ways.  Other than that, the fog spun over the ocean and surfers were still out there, around Sausalito, in the sand.

Who goes amid the green wood

Who goes amid the green wood
  With springtide all adorning her?
Who goes amid the merry green wood
  To make it merrier?

Who passes in the sunlight
  By ways that know the light footfall?
Who passes in the sweet sunlight
  With mien so virginal?

The ways of all the woodland
  Gleam with a soft and golden fire-
For whom does all the sunny woodland
  Carry so brave attire?

O, it is for my true love
  The woods their rich apparel wear-
O, it is for my own true love,
  That is so young and fair.

A poem from James Joyce, one of my favorite poets, along with Wordsworth, Dickinson, Whitman, Keats, Blake, Jeffers, .... Homer



I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you- Nobody -Too?
then there's a pair of us
don't tell, they'd advertise- you know

How dreary, to be, Somebody!
How public, like a frog
to tell one's name the livelong June
to an admiring bog!
-emily dickinson.

be here now

the best of both worlds, or so I until
trekking back through the years
wondering about some cats.
wondering what's to eat
the lentil soup came out not so good
I'm off my game in the cooking department
and still eating quite an unhealthy diet
still unable to find time to translate Tanizaki....
probably not the worst thing in the world

"well alright you can sit over here", sharon seemed to say...

I Stood Tiptoe

I stood tiptoe upon a hill,
The air was cooling, and so very still,
That the sweet buds which with a modest pride
Pull droopingly, in slanted curve aside,
Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems,
Had not yet lost those starry diadems
Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.
The clouds were pure and white as flocks new shorn.
-Keats

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold;
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new plant swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He started at the Pacific-and all his men
Looked at each other with wild surmise-
Silent, upon a peak in Darien
-Keats

sitting around the living room

I can imagine as within the realm of possibility, that me, John, Mary, and Sara could be sitting around in my living room, sitting on the couches, cooking something in the kitchen, playing songs, getting stoned, and just having good conversations where you're actually saying something.  Or going out and planting a bunch of vegetables, some kind of deal where people have a group of friends.  A lot of people actually live that way, as surprising as it may be.


I kind of wonder who's reading my blog.  I see it's getting viewed, but are those all bots, or my own hits, or what?



I wrote this quite a while ago: the idea that something happened in my old student co-op at Berkeley.  I tend to get hung up on this when I get manic, but I think I'm talking about good friends connected through experience or living in the same house, or listening to Public Enemy's "It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back" (that was big in 1989-90 in Berkeley).  There were great artists and musicians, mostly great musician friends, from whom I definitely learned a certain kind of sound.  But I guess the idea is: doesn't seem to be much happening with that.  Or any way to explain it: I guess life can get strange at times.  Or blame it on the Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd.

Here's a story I've been working on, currently only a fragment:
Joe and Frank were talking.  Joe was kind of doing a monologue, as was his tendency.


"What is man to do in the few days of his life? There are the relationships that form the basis of day-to-day reality, but there are the impressions received that seem to indicate some greater meaning or understanding, flashing of true knowledge, or at least a path that should be perceived, a path of thought perhaps, a thing so powerful in nature that the full recollection is difficult, the the memory of which is something absolutely fundamental and completely in line with reality as reality really happened, in every concrete sense of the word, and yet unlike your typical event, a sort of paradigm shift within the framework of consciousness that had no easy way of being explained to a third party by talking about whatever political or social thing might have been happening at the time. There are just things in life to which one ascribes a higher value of significance. Do you go out and have a checklist for what is important or valuable? Absolutely not. Everyone makes the most fundamental decisions about their life based on impressions and vague mental manifestations. One assumes that the direction that one feels is consistent with a productive direction, whether in the development of thought past the current paradigms to a better understanding, for what is lacking in the world is understanding, that is for sure.
It seems to me that I had pretty solid ideas at some level when I was young, or real passions to head in a certain direction, but the situation I was caught in was brought on by me, I suppose, but then like lighting a small fire or something, I was suddenly in a situation where I couldn't find a place to relax. I got the distinct impression that something was wanted out of me, that people were coming over that had something to do with the co-op that wanted me to stand up and explain myself or something, and in that situation I couldn't see what I could really have to say or why I would even give a shit about anything anyway. At that point in my life, I had no grand ideas to shower anybody with, and still don't have any. I wanted to play the guitar and do sketches or whatever, hang out, but there was no point at which I was going to have anything to say about anything going on with the stupid co-op, because that whole deal was not much of an issue anyway. Regarding that place, it was like, yeah, close the stupid thing down. The parties were getting to loud, the neighbors were bothered. Close it down.

At times the meanings or deeper significances of things are found out by impressions and the confluences of different thinkers combined within situations that may or may not have stresses involved, but the result of such spontaneously interacting thinking (a psychological wiki) can result in not really ideas as just ideas, but impressions and directions that leave their mark in a way that never leaves, that the impression is so strong that it sets the direction of thought from then on, although it may reside for years in the back of the minds of people present at the start of the impression. After such a solid and bullshit-free event, subsequent searchings and interactions may seem lacking or flawed or, for those that went through that impression, they may try to join groups that claim to be able to explain a good world view, but it will not work, because thinking back to that event, they know that there was something there that was more fundamental and heavier, and yet not based on any sort of dogma, a kind of connection of consciousness. There was an absolute and fundamental kind of is-ness connected to that time. I've seen nothing like it since, and I've had absolutely no ability to relate to anybody my own age other than, perhaps, the people that were around at that particular time, because, perhaps, of the shared understanding gained at that time, and a fundamental connection of consciousness established, although I haven't really even thought about it for years. It really was all about the establishment of a new paradigm. Where that paradigm could go, given the right conditions, is anybody's guess, and certainly if it did make any progress into the human consciousness, it would be gradual and subtle, but one can only hope: there is too much hate in the world, and suffering, and a real possibility that things may get worse. For me, it would seem, and for anyone, the only thing to do is to carry out the responsibilities of day to day life, try to live as decently as possible in relation to others, and hope that the progress of humanity will continue in a positive direction. To be anti-war is one thing, but are your actions contributing to greater harmony in the world? It's easy to be angry and protest something, but that's conflict too. I suppose conflict is inevitable, but in the long run hopefully some conflict can be prevented through an increase in cooperation.
The thing about the paradigm that  I experienced at the time was that it had no fundamental ideas associated with it at all. It wouldn't be any kind of doctrine. There would be no sort of philosophy or guidance, certainly nothing political or religious associated with it. It was just a curious sort of impression that landed with amazing force. I guess you would just say that whatever was talked about back then, it was the nature of reality. So it's going to be hard for anybody to go out with a banner and march down the street and be for or against "the nature of reality".
Was that just the "Those who know don't tell, those who tell don't know" thing, or something more?
"
Frank said, "Why are you asking me?  I was around at that time, with the cops around and closing the place down
and it didn't seem like a big deal.  Some stupid kids.  If there was such a big deal there, what is it to me?
Is there an angle here?  Is there some kind of product involved that I can invest in?  Is there any way to
make any money off of this garbage, or are you just wasting my time?"
"There is no money to be made.  You need to reject materialism Frank, sell your cars and stuff."
"Yeah, sure. Hey, your clothes are a little ragged.  Are you doing okay?  I can get you a job in the
office.
"No, I'll be over at the bean plant for a while."
"Okay, Joe.  Take it easy.  I worry about you sometimes.  You really need to get your act together."
...to be continued.

The Song the Idiot Sings

They don’t bother about me.  They let me be.

They say, “Nothing can happen.”

That’s good.

Nothing can happen.  It all comes and wheels 

steadily around the Holy Ghost,

always around that same Ghost (you know)-

that’s good.

No, of course not, one mustn’t think any danger

could come in that way.

Of course the blood exists.

Blood is the heaviest.  Blood is heavy

Sometimes I think I’ve had too much.

(That’s good.)

Oh, isn’t that a wonderful ball!

round and red as nothing at all.

Good things that you created it.

But will it come if you call?

How strangely this whole thing behaves,

into each other driving, out of each other swimming,

friendly, a touch uncertain.

That’s good.

-Ranier Maria Rilke.

change

I was out over on downtown Corvallis trying to get a microphone fixed at the Fingerboard, and I saw Sharon across the street, looking agitated, from what I could tell, and I was trying to avoid her but thought I’d figure out what the problem was, I finally decided, and went across the street.  She was around the corner with a kid looking at a meter, and I looked and her and said “Sharon”, and she looked around and gave me a burning look like there was something agitating going on, or at least that’s the impression I got, and asked me if I had change for the meter, and gave me ten pennies, laid them out in her hand precisely, and then I made a big show of not touching her hand when we exchanged the coins.  I was going to comment on the clothes she wearing, and started to say something, and she said “don’t…” like she thought or guessed I was about to say something stupid or unnecessary given the circumstances, given whatever those were.  I can’t figure the whole thing out.  She’s always been great though.  That much is true.

-part of my forthcoming novel

change for the meter

I think it was down on second
she wanted some dimes for the meter
and counted out some even change
that is to say
there  was something resembling,
a hand with pennies laid out on it
adding up to a dime.
which are the same, as I
pointed out.

All in Green

all in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.

Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer.

Four red roebuck at a white water
the cruel bugle sang before.

Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.
-ee cummings

VI

Rose, you majesty-once, to the ancients
  you were
just a calyx with the simplest of rims.
But for us, you are the full, the numberless flower,
the inexhaustible countenance.

In your wealth you seem to be wearing
  gown upon gown
upon a body of nothing but light;
yet each separatae petal is at the same time
  the negation
of all clothing and the refusal of it.

Your fragrance has been calling its
  sweetest names
in our direction, for hundreds of years;
suddenly it hangs in the air like fame.

Even so, we have never know what to call
  it; we guess...
And memory is filled with it unawares
which we prayed for from hours that
  belong to us.
-Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus

Goldenhair

lean out of the window,
Goldenhair,
I heard you singing
a merry air.

My book was closed;
I read no more,
watching the fire dance
on the floor.

I have left my book,
I have left my room,
for I heard you singing
through the gloom.

singing and singing
a merry air,
lean out of the window,
Goldenhair.

-James Joyce, Chamber Music

setsubi

  Life is hard to find and once found is hard to do anything with, so a glimpse of people caught in a similar strain of circumstances is certainly a bit different.  In any case, it's that kind of tears that are still there to see that make you wonder if what you thought was true was so.  Every year we go through these manifestations and every year it's different but much the same as always.  So you wonder, you walk around on the pavement late at night, not paying attention to where you are going, spending more money than you have in the account, and thinking of one person somewhere in a building full of equipment.

Sharon the mushroom girl

Sharon the mushroom girl
with a little parasol that's a big mushroom



got it up by the sky, waiting
for rain.

I was of two minds like
Sharon the mushroom girl
and her mushroom.

the blue parasol
near the sky, waiting

Green Grow the Rushes...

Green grow the rashes, O
green grow the rashes, O
the sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O

There's naught but care on every han'
In every hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life o' man,
An 'twere na for the lasses, O?

The warl'ly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' though at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

But gi'e me a canny hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An' warl'ly cares an' warl'ly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this,
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly loved the lasses, O.

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears

Her noblest work she classes, O;

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,

An' then she made the lasses, O.

-Robert Burns

the hands wind around

Coffee cups on the edge
and each prescient work,
finding itself dislodged
makes another waste of the land demonic
set round on the edge
ticking of the clocks
we make up our minds
and find our sister stations.

here's another entry

This blog entry is to prove that everything is just dull and boring like usual.  I'm trying to survive on iced tea and tortillas, but beyond that, things could be a lot worse.  One problem is I tend to have an erratic mind that shoots one way and then another, unpredictably.  That's just the way of it, I have to make sense, it seems.

As for today, it's time to head back to the house, maybe try to play a song or two.


I remember handing a big jar of lime and water with some ice in it from one place to another.


My fingers feel too heavy to type.  The days pass without variation.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,	5
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;	10
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

23.

So we really did this, this really happened just like I wrote it.  O stands for Otto Markkanen.  We used to go drink at the bars after karate, back when I was an alcoholic.


Just Another Day in Paradise

BY Chris Farrell

We finish with karate, an easy class, thoroughly enjoying the warm spring weather and the green grass in the park outside the gym. It was not a very difficult class, full of much talking, but worth the effort. We line up to close, bow, and I notice D is talking to R, caught up in some earnest discussion. I go over there to listen and he says, ?Oh, I split up with D. I am living at home.? So they are breaking up. I look over toward the parking lot and O is standing there.

?Fancy seeing you here.?

?I wonder how you would be for coming over for a drink."

"Well, I have no money, but probably can do it."

I go into the dressing room, and J is there, a brown belt who moved to Salem. "D is looking pretty good."

"Pound for pound, one of the strongest."

We go outside and D is standing with J and K.

"I tan easily, in fact, have to tan because of a skin condition I have. Tanning helps it go away."

"I have only burned a couple of times," J says.

K is talking about her first year of school, how she is getting average grades..

D works nights laying tile, so after some discussion, he takes off, and O and I make our way across the grass to where he lives, a cool apartment full of mementos of his woodworking prowess. We cross the railroad tracks, and I think of Thoreau's verse:" What is a railroad to me/but a place to set the blackberries growing." Surely a verse in favor of taking one's own path. We watch the end of a movie, listen to his parrot talk, and venture out to rent another movie. On the way back, pausing for a cigarette, O notices, that J and K are still in the parking lot talking, nearly an hour later.

"There must be something going on here," says O, which reminds me of that Dylan phrase: "There is something going on here, and you don't know what it is. Do you, Mr. Jones."

"This is how it starts, long conversations"

So we walk over there, drinks in hang. J is talking about how they were painting his last name under the "stop" in stop signs. I say this is probably because he is the jock/intellectual seventeen-year-old genius karate maniac that he is, and he seems to agree. We all wonder how he is going to be as he heads off to college.

O gives a longwinded (in his typical manner) speech to J about how he may never know when he may crack. This seems to be a way of putting across the dangers of drugs without being too obvious.

We stroll back across the lawn and after pausing for another rum-and-coke, decide to head on down to the bars to see what is happening. Luckily O lives only blocks from downtown. We stroll down the sidewalks enjoying the new green and warm weather and small breezes of late spring.

Down at the Peacock there are four cop cars, lights flashing, and a few young guys getting handcuffed. O sits down next to one car, lighting and cigarette, and does nothing.

"We might get cited for loitering," I say. having been hassled many times by the cops.

"I don't think so."

We stroll over to the bar window. The band is playing Hendrix and sounds pretty good, the guitarist a grizzled guy who can hit all the right notes with his long and finely defined arm.

There is a girl standing by the window that O seems to know.

"So there was a fight here? What started it?"

"A girl punched some girl about some boyfriend thing, some jealousy thing, and then the guys started in...about one hour ago."

She had large eyes and was quite petite.

"So you may go to Singapore?" says O.

"Yeah, I'm thinking about it."

"Why would you go there?"
"I work for a sanitation company, and we would be setting up a plant."
"That sounds like a good opportunity. Do go and then I'll have something to congratulate you on when you get back," says O, "and if you don't go, you may look back on it as a missed opportunity."
"I heard you can't chew gum in Singapore."
"It's illegal."
"Well, good luck." says O and we walk off, a few blocks to Tommy's, a cool little cozy lounge. There is an older guy with a huge black beard, tough looking, with tattoos, that O says hi to. He was a bouncer for years at another bar, and looks the part.
We sit down, sipping on separators.
Heartbreak hotel comes on.
"Nothing like Elvis. The father of rock and roll."
"He was groundbreaking."
Another song comes on.
"This was written by Lennon and McCartney for another band, under pseudonyms, but it still went to number one. That says something. They did that with fourteen or so of their songs."
"Yes, indeed."
We leave and head down to China D, the bar open latest. When the Peacock closes, all the intoxicated and otherwise bizarre people stroll in here for a last drink. Gary is on duty, twitchy and unpredictable as usual, high on cocaine.
We go outside for a smoke.
"Do you know the Spinney family?" a pudgy woman asked O.
"Can't say that I do.
She dismisses him with a look and goes inside.
The crowd is thinning out, the bar is closing, and we are talking to two women who are leaning on what appears to be their VW bus. On girl has a dachshund, and puts him inside, safe and sound.
"They get angry at us, for not defining ourselves, gay or bi, but we prefer not to, just leave it undefined." says one girl who has tight braids and a cap.
"I see you work at S, and Great Plant before that" I say to the other. She has that sleepy look; perhaps it is only her eyes that make her appear extremely stoned. She always wears clothes with many patches and holes.
"That's right, the first job I got before moving here from Connecticut."
The girl with tight braids keeps talking. "We have a responsibility to summarize the meaning of our generation for future generations."
That sounds like an idea.
Suddenly she reaches out and gives me a kiss and a hug. (Not on the lip, but still...) I am thoroughly surprised and wonder about the meaning of this.
We walk back to O's and watch a bit of Dylan singing "Forever Young" before calling it a night.