Saturday, June 27, 2009
What sammy said last night
I need to record this fool, kinda like my Native-Black-Polack-Commie homeboy Charlie.
Last night Sammy came back from the mini mart and said:
"dude, mini-marts are like bugzappers for lunatics. And in our neighborhood, there be lotsa lunatics."
its true. If you hang out all day at the minimarts you'll see people surviving/thriving offa deep fried garbage and snacks. In fact, i am guilty. i am a lunatic. i get zapped. i be eatin $1.49 packs of tortillas with the eggs i steal from Nicole's chicken coop. but recently i have been bleesed cuz Nikki and Sammy decided to bury the hatchet with quiche and salad. two days in a row. so now i eat good. if they keep fighting and making up, i'll keep moderating and fillin my belly.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I like that "feelin it" style
thats what my boy grant said to me a long time ago while we were in his dj dungeon listening to a little known dj named Fresh who was juggling some funk. man i started gettin up and groovin. at the time (and even now) djs were into that technically ridiculous style.
but i've always loved that feelin it style
and i am feelin portland these days. i been out and about the past few days checkin out sites for the tea house and doing other things and i have seen a lot of beautiful women, which is nice, and a lot of friendly peeps, which is also nice. but there are also a whole legion of bums ranging from drunk crackers to tattooed outcasts to colorful crazy women to the black and indian nation. i give smokes when i got em, flash coins if they jinglin and i always stop and bullshit for a while to let me and them know we're all still human.
its as much as i can do. preaching all of this "one love" here in the blog i have to pull it into my lifestyle or all goes wrong.
as for the tea biz, the "first transport is away" as geeks would say. The loan application is in and i now await word from the duplicitous stingy bankers who once threw cash around (when rates were high) but now say its too tough (cuz rates is low) and that is basically how it is done. Wish me luck, all 6 of you cats out there who read this.
feelin it
yeahyeah
feelin it
in the mornin when libberz comes to wake me up
feelin it
in the noontime with a smoke and a cup
still feelin it
i got my music wherever i go
i keep feelin it
no matter how low it gets
how dark it gets
its so easy to keep
feelin it
yeahyeah
feelin it
i betchu ya'll feel it too
cuz i be feelin it
but i've always loved that feelin it style
and i am feelin portland these days. i been out and about the past few days checkin out sites for the tea house and doing other things and i have seen a lot of beautiful women, which is nice, and a lot of friendly peeps, which is also nice. but there are also a whole legion of bums ranging from drunk crackers to tattooed outcasts to colorful crazy women to the black and indian nation. i give smokes when i got em, flash coins if they jinglin and i always stop and bullshit for a while to let me and them know we're all still human.
its as much as i can do. preaching all of this "one love" here in the blog i have to pull it into my lifestyle or all goes wrong.
as for the tea biz, the "first transport is away" as geeks would say. The loan application is in and i now await word from the duplicitous stingy bankers who once threw cash around (when rates were high) but now say its too tough (cuz rates is low) and that is basically how it is done. Wish me luck, all 6 of you cats out there who read this.
feelin it
yeahyeah
feelin it
in the mornin when libberz comes to wake me up
feelin it
in the noontime with a smoke and a cup
still feelin it
i got my music wherever i go
i keep feelin it
no matter how low it gets
how dark it gets
its so easy to keep
feelin it
yeahyeah
feelin it
i betchu ya'll feel it too
cuz i be feelin it
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Tea with Amy
Monday, June 15, 2009
Two books that I urge you to read:
The first deals with Islam
No god but God, the origins, evolution and future of Islam
This book (FINALLY) traces the roots of Islam back to the socialist hippy rebel Muhammad and his community of passionate young revolutionaries. All prophets are socialist rebels ... have you noticed? and their message eventually falls prey to the wealthy, nervous, manipulative men of their time and becomes oppressive, exclusive, aggressive and, ultimately, corrupted.
Take heed.
The next book is:
Sex, economy, freedom and community
This book (FINALLY) traces the roots of the global economy and calls for a healthy return to local and regional economic ties that destroy less and enrich more through webs of community, rather than invisible logistics chains in which locals play a two-bit part as cog.
Take heed.
No god but God, the origins, evolution and future of Islam
This book (FINALLY) traces the roots of Islam back to the socialist hippy rebel Muhammad and his community of passionate young revolutionaries. All prophets are socialist rebels ... have you noticed? and their message eventually falls prey to the wealthy, nervous, manipulative men of their time and becomes oppressive, exclusive, aggressive and, ultimately, corrupted.
Take heed.
The next book is:
Sex, economy, freedom and community
This book (FINALLY) traces the roots of the global economy and calls for a healthy return to local and regional economic ties that destroy less and enrich more through webs of community, rather than invisible logistics chains in which locals play a two-bit part as cog.
Take heed.
Labels:
economics,
Islam,
revolution,
reza aslan,
wendell berry
Friday, June 12, 2009
Summer in Portland
is almost perfect. its not too hot and when it does get hot the rains come politely like butlers in the morning to dress up the day in dew making sure i dont know it even happened till i stretch yawn put my slippers on and walk out. a faint whiff of brimstone and stains on the concrete.
I took a trip north from Chengdu to a place called Wudu, in Gansu, with my friend and mentor Ivan. He's an engineer specializing in roads and highways and bridges and tunnels. He keeps quite busy in China. Below is a map of the area. We drove north from Chengdu to a place called Guangyuan (the birthplace of Wu Zi Tian the only Chinese Empress and also the site of Jian Men Guan -- the Sword Gate -- for years the fortress that protected Shu/Sichuan from northern invaders).
From there we headed deep into the wild mountains that blur the borders between Sichuan, Shanxi and Gansu Provinces. This region of brown dirt waterfalls and soaring cliffs is also the rocky heartbeat of the west. When properly connected, development in the western half of China can proceed as envisioned. We stayed one night between Guangyuan and Wudu in a small town called Luo Shui, I believe. I find it hard to believe that this town is real. Rock rises up on all sides and constricts the town into one or two lanes. They seemed nonchalant about our presence and one woman said they had a foreigner here for three months. Engineer. or maybe an oil guy.
In the morning kids straggled into school in ones, twos and threes. The girls held hands.
So remote yet so full of the smell of man.
It is also the area hit hardest by the earthquake ... a strip of mountain ranges that ebb out of Tibet like rings, straddling the boundaries between Han China and Tibetan China ...
there is not one inch of this road that is not under construction. we passed through tight gorges with tent cities nestled in the folds above the river. men and machines hauled stone and silt and sand from the river bed up to the road to pave another section, raise another column, wall in another home.
We headed back on a different route, along the outskirts of Aba Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture and the valley of Jiu Zhai Gou. We passed through the county seat and saw the plunder that pours out of the tourists pockets. The seat is as glorious as Beijing's Tiananmen .. government buildings rise up proudly. Hotels serene next to a snowy peak. Lights flashing in calm acceptance of their own irresistible power. Down the road, where the valley actually dives into the range, where azure lakes blush and fade like young girls in different seasons of love, Tibetans smile and wave and cook yak meat over yak shit coals in adobe houses. Some don't smile anymore.
In the brothels of Chengdu, pimps boast Aba girls ...
In the wilds of China, doozers cause muddy traffic jams deep into the night.
I took a trip north from Chengdu to a place called Wudu, in Gansu, with my friend and mentor Ivan. He's an engineer specializing in roads and highways and bridges and tunnels. He keeps quite busy in China. Below is a map of the area. We drove north from Chengdu to a place called Guangyuan (the birthplace of Wu Zi Tian the only Chinese Empress and also the site of Jian Men Guan -- the Sword Gate -- for years the fortress that protected Shu/Sichuan from northern invaders).
From there we headed deep into the wild mountains that blur the borders between Sichuan, Shanxi and Gansu Provinces. This region of brown dirt waterfalls and soaring cliffs is also the rocky heartbeat of the west. When properly connected, development in the western half of China can proceed as envisioned. We stayed one night between Guangyuan and Wudu in a small town called Luo Shui, I believe. I find it hard to believe that this town is real. Rock rises up on all sides and constricts the town into one or two lanes. They seemed nonchalant about our presence and one woman said they had a foreigner here for three months. Engineer. or maybe an oil guy.
In the morning kids straggled into school in ones, twos and threes. The girls held hands.
So remote yet so full of the smell of man.
It is also the area hit hardest by the earthquake ... a strip of mountain ranges that ebb out of Tibet like rings, straddling the boundaries between Han China and Tibetan China ...
there is not one inch of this road that is not under construction. we passed through tight gorges with tent cities nestled in the folds above the river. men and machines hauled stone and silt and sand from the river bed up to the road to pave another section, raise another column, wall in another home.
We headed back on a different route, along the outskirts of Aba Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture and the valley of Jiu Zhai Gou. We passed through the county seat and saw the plunder that pours out of the tourists pockets. The seat is as glorious as Beijing's Tiananmen .. government buildings rise up proudly. Hotels serene next to a snowy peak. Lights flashing in calm acceptance of their own irresistible power. Down the road, where the valley actually dives into the range, where azure lakes blush and fade like young girls in different seasons of love, Tibetans smile and wave and cook yak meat over yak shit coals in adobe houses. Some don't smile anymore.
In the brothels of Chengdu, pimps boast Aba girls ...
In the wilds of China, doozers cause muddy traffic jams deep into the night.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Hand of Death is no match for a Sweaty Human
So when yer friend is wallowing in the dark night of his/her soul, at 2am, hating him/herself, wondering if there is any meaning whatsoever, then suggest a healthy sweat.
God loves sweat. really. he loves funky humans. When we sweat, God sweats, Creation sweats and the whole universe sweats with us. When the Hand of Death rests upon a shoulder and says: its all bad. you aint shit. give it up. then you are hating self, hating God, hating Creation, Hating the Universe.
The devil's entire plot is to get us to hate ourselves and create a dualistic, walled-off, remote connection between Man and God. That's the whole schtick. He's a hater. he's trying to drive a wedge twixt the Universe and Man. hatin ass hater.
So sweat. Let God and the whole glittering thing know you got love for em and at the same time enjoy the sweet feeling of kickin the devil to the curb.
God loves sweat. really. he loves funky humans. When we sweat, God sweats, Creation sweats and the whole universe sweats with us. When the Hand of Death rests upon a shoulder and says: its all bad. you aint shit. give it up. then you are hating self, hating God, hating Creation, Hating the Universe.
The devil's entire plot is to get us to hate ourselves and create a dualistic, walled-off, remote connection between Man and God. That's the whole schtick. He's a hater. he's trying to drive a wedge twixt the Universe and Man. hatin ass hater.
So sweat. Let God and the whole glittering thing know you got love for em and at the same time enjoy the sweet feeling of kickin the devil to the curb.
Labels:
mad love to all ya'll,
the devil aint shit
Chillin at the Shiraz in Shanghai
Mengding Mountain Tea
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
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