it's a beautiful world

[click image]

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One must never forget it while agonizing over its ugliness.

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love, 99
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one to smash the fuckin' lightbulb because we all know it's never gonna change

[click image, video, two hours]

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This has been linked on my sidebar for a very long time, and I've mentioned it in posts a few times, but Blue! has reminded me of how badly we all need to hear this, the whole thing, again, or for the first time. I think I've heard it about ten times now and it never stops giving clarity to what becomes blurred in the rush of the world, the rush of our convictions, the rush of our needs, the rush of what we only THINK and have not seen all the way into.

While I am in no way as successful a writer as Derrick Jensen is, I have spent many years being a much better than averagely successful environmental activist. For any in it, they will KNOW this is nothing much and not nearly enough by parsecs. To have any impact at all is at once masterly and pathetic.

Even if you've heard it before, PLEASE, PLEASE, listen again. He says so many, many vital things you need reminding of. He is telling the kind of truth that few can hear and keep in mind. It's that close to the core. It's as important as the blood in your veins and the air in your lungs. Listen again.

It's also a very entertaining listen, which is a big help. If you want to watch it on Google Video, or download it to your hard drive so you can rip it to discs for your friends, go HERE for the first hour, and HERE for the second hour. Actually, I would consider it a big favor if you did that. So would the salmon and the trees and the people everywhere who are dying of the toxicity of this civilization.

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not whistling dixie

[click image of most supremely 99-like hairdo]

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So many, many years I couldn't leave my house without men falling all over me. Any difficulty whatever meant choosing between eight or ten applicants for easing it. Instant attention for anything. And I wasn't even famous.

I was in a beauty parlor getting something very scary drastic done to my hair. I was twenty-six, about dead of anxiety, when it dawned on me that I better not let the matter of my looks do this to me, better not let myself identify as what I look like, better not consign myself to a desperation not even surgery can erase. Still, having gotten the jump on it like that, it crosses my mind every time something goes wrong, that big pool of men who used to vie to make it right for me.

Deadly stuff.
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a meditation for pedestrian

[click image]

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Completely off topic... or counterpoint to barefootedness....
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i just gotsta have lotsa gorgeous these days

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I don't know about you but I'm so fed up with ugly from all quarters that I'm looking for wonderful and pretty as hard as I can lately. It IS a beautiful world.

take some moments now for beauty let loose on us all

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And don't forget Vincent's gorgeous heart....

Too long ago... oh, oh, oh, bed....

master spy distracted

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"humble to truth alone"

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Someone more important to me than any atom in my personal space, more than my wealthy socialist gentleman, or any bit of alleviation of this long-aching forced hypochondriasis, once signed a letter to me this way. It's a diamond that never stops knocking my eyes out with its deepest content, its cosmos of relief from slavery, its utterly unspeakable wealth of positive manifestation. If I could load a gun with bullets of this, I'd shoot you all right between the eyes.

Lectures from sidebar tacked on for archive:

Norman Finkelstein talking sense into you:


and another Finkelstein lecture

somebody call aslan

[click image]

I took Butchy the schnauzer for a nice long walk on Mt. Tamalpias today, and I went shopping with Trishie all afternoon and early evening, and I got some new Ugg boots... that are really Emus... gray... and a beautiful sweater. We tromped around that fancy mall so many times it's amazing. It was the most gorgeous early summer day and evening of my life. I stuck to my diet -- 20 pounds by the doctor's mean old scales -- against inhuman odds. My size tens now go on easily and I'm well on my way back to eights... maybe even sixes again. For sure. Now if Aslan would show up and kick the war pigs' butts, we could all live happily and healthily ever after.

News flash: A major portion of my problem is that I'm deathly allergic to my house. It ain't the whole thing, and the tests for lupus are all happening, with results we hope this coming week, but my doctor said, "Move."

I said, "Have you found my wealthy socialist gentleman?"

She said, "No. Move anyway."

Aslan. Calling Aslan. I don't care how dire it is or might be. I feel fabulous today. You can't even believe what a beautiful day it was, and what a gorgeous night it is out there. It's a beautiful world. Stop killing things!!!!!!

BEAUTIFUL COURAGE, BEAUTIFUL HOPE

[click image, mp3, one hour]

Stop everything and listen to Roseanne Barr trying to give us back our souls.

huge anti-occupation rally in iraq

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Deeply beautiful.

it was a beautiful night

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Clear and warm and birds chirping in the moonlight. I played with the bronzes on my makeshift little desk next to the open big picture windows for a couple hours and so I know precisely what I'm talking about. Finally I got in bed, and finished a despicable romance novel that had been laying around. Just appalling. Seriously bad writing, without even any attention to continuity, let alone remotely believable characters. I was driven to finish it in my quest to understand more sentient beings, but nobody said I had to like it.

I turned out the light and closed my eyes. A little hand from inner space was beckoning me there behind them, and then it was another time when it didn't matter that my eyes were closed, I could see the room around me as if they were not. And kaleidoscopes of mandalas overlaid. Soon the sun made up its mind to announce its decision to rise and I was wanting too badly to swim around in the mandalas behind my eyes, float in nirvana, get rest a billion times better than sleep and I do not deserve. Then I fell asleep and dreamed something vitally important, but still can't remember it. I need to do better.

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... a little like the sound....

Have to take up painting to get you the visuals....

i get woozy for ancient bronze

[click picture]

Or, spend your day going batshit crazy over all the sculptures at this site....

legs

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During the endless hours of commute traffic of my youth, I thought about space aliens wanting my body for science. They were nice space aliens and asked. The deal was they would give me whatever I wanted if I'd give them my body when I died. It was always legs four inches longer. My babetude was completely untenable while that top heavy, and I reckoned four more inches would make the chest less outrageous. Don't believe any of those girls who say "world peace". We all mean it, but, well, in secret deals with space aliens... we have to have gotten the picture....

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i want to marry barry scheck

Yet another innocent man exonerated by his efforts.