Trying to think positive. Nothing on the agenda, just another day stretching out into nothingness.

In the Interzone watching the students study away.  I don't want to go home because I'm paranoid, but there's no use staying either.

I feel my life may not last that much longer.  I feel my physical issues are serious.

I barely have the energy to type out these words.

Still dealing with Gordon in the garage.  He thinks it's his space and that is that with him.  Donna is freaked out.  I feel like shit, no appetite or energy.  This is the lowest I've ever been.  I have to keep reminding myself that there's got to be a peaceful way out of this solution.  I don't want any more arguing.
Tried and True has young women, so here I am all alone, but still perhaps could be in a worse position.  The ability to live free in a free society is only accorded to people who's actions are okay over the long term.

I see a lot of desperation everywhere and don't want to make it worse, but just fade out peacefully.

Boy, I sure know how to pick the roommates. Gordon was a friend I had played some music with, and I had hung out at his house in Blodgett in the coast range. He seemed to me to have some cool qualities. Some musical talent, somewhat of an amateur botanist, and an owner of a tiny house on a beautiful peace of land. I knew he was hermetic but also thought that was not necessarily a bad thing. Anyway, I had stopped calling him for quite a while because it seemed like he was criticizing me too much, but I called him again, it had been a year, and I brought him out some groceries to his place, and we smoked rollies and joints and talked about Summit people and music, and frankly I listened to him talk. He was selling his house, so I offered him a room in my house, and he seemed to think that was a good idea. I was like, great, I'll have a musical friend and he will distract me from the pit of depression I'm usually stuck in. I was also thinking he'd get along with the roommate I already had, Donna, a ex-massage therapist, 71, who was renting a room already. She had been there for four months or so, and she had a tendency to really get on my nerves, but for reasons that were harmless, like doing a lot of dishwashing, etc. So Gordon has a ton of shit moved into my garage, and I get back one day and he's moved his nearly dead cat in. The next day he goes in the garage and starts rearranging things, setting them up the way he likes them, like he owns the room. We find out that my mom doesn't want to smoke in the garage, and I tell him that, and he gets enraged. The next day I confirm with my mom that there's no smoking allowed, and get her on the phone, and he, instead of taking the phone, pretends like he's going to throw it. He insists on his way. He's not acknowledging who makes the rules. The next day I'm hoping that maybe I can give him his way on the smoking and there won't be anything more irrational about him. He wants a desk in a certain place and I decided to say that I don't want it that way, and he gets enraged and starts yelling and get up and shoves me off my chair, attacking me. I keep him off me and he sits down. I get up and say, "you just assaulted me, thirty days notice" I go into the living room, sit for about an hour, and he comes into the kitchen, and I come in and say, "Hey, Gordon, neither one of us wants to go to jail, etc" and he simply becoming enraged and slams the kitchen dhoor on me. So then I called the cops and told them what happened. They don't arrest him because it's his word against mine. Since then he's been escalating, he's remained enraged, shoved Donna, threw water at me, spit at me, informed me that he's dangerous. He's decided he owns the garage and is going to be there two months even though he hasn't paid any rent. He's just trying to screw me over any way he can, I guess. It didn't have to be this way. We're trying to get him out on a 7 day eviction notice. But if he becomes more dangerous or assaults me again, we'll look at a 24 hour notice.

days

Days pass and I don't know what I do.  I have gotten down to Tried and True for a beverage, feeling horrible.  My fate may be for a short life.  I can't see this ending in a good way.

George Eliot

Maybe I should start reading a George Eliot novel.  I am going to need some new habits for this London trip.

But wherefore to the mountain-top
can this unhappy woman go,
whatever stars is in the skies,
whatever wind may blow?
full twenty years are past and gone
since she (her name is Martha Ray)
gave with a maiden's true goodwill
her company to Stephen Hill;
and she was blithe and gay,
while friends and kindred all approved
of him whom tenderly she loved

The Solitary Reaper

behold her, single in the field,
yon solitary highland lass!
reaping and singing by herself
stop here or gently pass!
alone she cuts and binds the grain
and sings a melancholy strain
listen, for the vales profound
is overflowing with the sound

no nightingale did ever chaunt
more welcome notes to weary bands
of travellers in some shady haunt,
among arabian sands
a voice so thrilling never was heard
in springtime from the way
breaking the silence
among the farthest hebrides

will no one tell me what she sings?
perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
for old, unhappy, far-off things,
and battles long ago?
or is it some more humble lay,
familiar matter of today?
some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
that has been, and may be again?

Whatever the theme, the maiden sang
as if her song could have no ending
I saw her singing at her work,
and listened o'er the sickle bending
I listened motionless and still
and, as I mounted up the hill,
the music in my heart I bore,
long after it was heard no more

A Fever

Oh do not die, for I shall hate
All women so, when thou art gone,
That thee I shall not celebrate,
When I remember, thou wast one.

But yet though canst die, I know;
To leave this world behind, is death;
But when though from this world wilt go,
The whole world vapors with thy breath.

Or if, when though, the world's soul, goest,
It stay, 'tis but thy carcass then,
The fairest woman, but thy ghost,
But corrupt worms, the worthiest of men.

O wrangling schools, that search what fire
Shall burn this world, had none the wit
Unto this knowledge to aspire,
That this her fever might be it?

And yet she cannot waste by this,
Nor long bear this torturing wrong,
For much corruption needful is
To fuel such a fever long

These burning fits but meteors be,
Whose matter in thee is soon spent.
Thy beauty, and all parts, which are thee,
Are unchangeable firmament.

Yet 'twas of my mind, seizing thee,
Though it in thee cannot persevere.
For I had rather owner be
Of thee one hour, than all else ever.

gneiss

I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots,
And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over
And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons,
but call any thing back again when I desire it.

In vain the speeding or shyness
In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach,
in vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder'd bones,
in vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes,
in vain the ocean settling in hollows and the great monsters lying low,
in vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky,
in vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs,
in vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods,
in vain the razor-bill'd auk sails far north to Labrador,
I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff

a song of joys

o to make the most jubilant song
full of music, full of manhood, womanhood, infancy
full of common employments, full of grain and trees.

o for the voices of animals, o for the swiftness and balance of fishes
o for the dropping of raindrops in a song
o for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song

o the joy of my spirit, it is uncaged, it darts like lightning
it is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,
I will have thousands of globes and all time.

etc.

Back again

Here I am, back again to the blog that has kept me away for so long.  There's some joy to typing your thoughts out on paper, as banal as they might be.  My writing certainly needs a lot of work, and one way to test it is through this blog, and writing phrases such as "the quick fox jumped over the lazy dog".

  So anyway, I am spending too much on vaporizers, and I'm not sure what all that is doing to my lungs in any case, so that is something else to worry about.

  The weather is cold and not good for walking around, but that is what I'm doing anyway.  The idea being, to get out in the cold air between rounds of playing songs.   There's hope in the day, and the flowers are coming up out of the ground, so spring is not far off.

Back from a while off

I'm back from a while off of writing, and I'm still getting over getting my electric stolen from me and other shaking to be taking place and getting that to where it is tolerable is a way to get things done, it seems to me, and the maker of coal and the  maker of pearls.  So then what I was saying is that some of my writing is all backwards and forwards, but undeniably about the  So strange that I have to come up with these documents every day and figure out more memos to ad it to.  then I can be a media franchise.

Slow progress

Return from hiatus

summer

how sweet the wood shades the hot summer hours
and stretches oer my head its sheltering green
as I recline mid grass and cooling flowers
and seeded stalks of blossoms that have been
sure tis a pleasure in such secret nooks
to muse on distant friends in memorys eye
or glance on passages in favourite books
whose thoughts like echoes to our own reply
or shades recall which substance long forsook
from the black nothingness of days gone bye
blessings of infant hope and loves young bliss
ah thus to think the thoughts of death is sweet
in shaping heaven to a scene like this
with loves and friends and feelings all to meet
...as I lazily sit and jam and smoke on the Summit grass....

foul mood

Boy I’m in a foul mood today, and kind of out of it as well.  Not sure where this is going or what to do about it, much.  There’s a feeling that I am hard to figure out, that there is absolutely nothing going on that is of interest whatsoever.  I went out and bought some more mushrooms and the kind of went out and failed myself somehow, kind of a dark mechanism to get through.

  A couple of new people were there at karate…..so, none of it makes sense, but there it is, and not much to do with it.  As of what we’re doing now, I just don’t know.  Lots of things get in the way, lots of things are forgiven or known.  So all the people talking too loud, all the people giving me smiles, adds up to still me being absolutely alone in my house.  Things will work out for me though.  I think I can sort it out, or if I can’t it amounts to the same amount in either case.  So that was what it is, and we keep in the swing of things, hardly knowing just where the sorting of ourselves, and all of it is sorted out somewhere, all of it is a flow from one thing to the next, a sort of idea we all feel and go through.  There has to be some kind of working out of projects, or a better sort of understanding that we can all feel.  I feel a constant need to see more than I do, to feel all of the forms and ways we can get through, and feel some sort of peace.  The words type on, and finally all we see is where that goes to, what I can go to, what I can do, and none of it makes a whole lot of sense really.  There has to be a sense of moderation these days, or an idea that most of it can work out somewhere, get us up and out of our ideas and mechanisms for self improvement.  Lots of things are there, hardly any can actually make a difference with us, and kind of way to sort through what we know, a kind of depression or set of ideas that come to be or for us to have an idea of.

  So that’s what it is, and that’s the direction we go in, or what we do.  There has to be some sort of ideal somewhere, some sort of change that makes sense for us, a kind of easy way to type and see through what we know.  If only, I had an easy way to sort through the dross and get a less depressed mechanism to find my way through the world.

  Michael Kalmbach gives me a thumbs up when I started talking about Melanie.  There has to be a way to sort it out, to do all of it, to make it worth the while and through the doors to a better way.  Why do I have these women on my mind so much?  It almost (but not really) seems like it would be better to not know them at all, because then I wouldn’t have the sense that I’m missing out.  I need to enjoy every day for what it is…..

Summit

So here we are again, writing about the events of yesterday, and thinking of Cindy Morgan how nice it was to meet and hang out with her.  I managed to meet a few people at the event.  Gordon and I jammed and she came out and shared her weed with us, and then met Jeff Norman, who makes instruments, so there was a lot of possible ways to enjoy things, and the people playing volleyball were possible to deal with, although coming up there alone would have been very difficult.

home maintenance and yardwork.

nothing to write about

I haven't felt like sharing anything personal.  Actually there might be a thing or two.  It's funny how certain events turn out to be not as fun as you thought they might be.  Going out to see Space Neighbors at Tyee was a drag.  I didn't like the place, and there weren't many people to support the band.  Much different than their enthusiastic show at the Avery Park space.  They aren't much of a band in that Nick Rivard and Navarro aren't the greatest, and the outer space and silliness and semi-funky funk aren't much really.
  Too bad you can't hear Melanie sing.  That's a shame.  So anyway, I got out of Tyee fast.

  Then there was the Bombs show.  Melanie was funny with her guest list thing.  I wonder if that was a joke or she was just messing with me to be funny, or another possibility, it had nothing to do with me.
  So that's what it is.  Enjoy life for now, not what might happen down the road, but it happened with Karen, why not again?  Maybe a different life than I've really experienced thus far, although I have had a lot of good times in my life.

cigarettes

Someone was telling a story about how they're carrying around cigarettes.....

Low Kindred Stump

he doesn't use the internet

he figures the women will be around
his physical surroundings if they
want to be around him.

-

who lives where beggars rarly speed?
and leads a humdrum life indeed
as none beside herself would lead
my mary

Who lives where noises never cease?
and what wi’ hogs and ducks and geese
can never have a minutes peace
my mary

who nearly battl’d to her chin
bangs down the yard thro thick and thin?
nor picks a road nor cares a pin
my mary

who (save in sunday bib and tuck)
goes daily (waddling like a duck)
oer head and ears in grease and muck
my mary

who used to pattins or to clogs
Who takes the swill to serve the hogs?
And steals the milk for cats and dogs
My Mary

Who frost and Snow as hard as nails
Stands out o' doors and never fails
To wash up things and scour the pails
My Mary

Who bussles night and day in short
At all catch jobs of every sort
And gains her mistress' favor for't
My Mary

And who is oft repaid wi parise?
In doing what her mistress says
And yielding to her wimmy ways
My Mary

For theres non apter I believe
At 'creeping up a Mistress' sleve'
Then this low kindred stump of Eve
My Mary

Who when the baby's all besh-t
To please its mamma kisses it?
And vows no Rose on earths so sweet
My Mary

But when her mistress isn't nigh
who wears and wishes it would die
and pinches it to make it cry
my mary

Oh rank deceit! what sould could think
But gentrly there revealing ink
at faults of this this friend must wink
My Mary

Who, not without a 'spark o' pride'
Tho strong as Grunters bristly hide
does keep her hair in paper's typd
my mary

and mimicking the Gentry's way
who strives to speak as fine as they?
and minds but every word they say
My Mary

And who (tho's well bid blind to seey stuff?
as her to tell ye A from B
things herself none o low degree?
my mary









who prates and runes oer still







...to be continued






talked to now deceased Valerie Tate for a week year before last on skype and she made me see nothing was really happening...thanks, I owe you for that, too bad it's too late to ever see the person ...such a great person and intelligence ....such a great perception.  Oh well.  I'd say a face from the past, but we never actually met outside of skype.

"nothing going on"

Old friend Alex asked me a while ago how I can do that "nothing happening" thing I do all the time.  I guess it is a thing I do.  It's a special quality that I have partly through karate and it's way of seeing things.  Karate is really good at not speaking instead of saying something, and that changes things, somehow.


It's because pieces need to come back together before I might have things happening, like with a group of friends: and I think particularly of how much my Oregon friends would like my friends from Berkeley, if they were to meet.  I can guarantee there'd be some frisky dancing, some Hendrix, a bit of Pink Floyd, and delve into the deep meaning ....I mean, get high and play some music.

I mean, I have things happening...karate, music, but ....I see why I had to get out of the Berkeley scene..... no place, etc.

But given that I might have been talked about a bit, so what?  What good is that doing me now?

On the other hand, things aren't so bad.  You could say that karate and family support got me to where I am today