When somebody gives you bullshit, fertilize a field.
- I went out hiking with a woman one time. She had blond hair, bottle-green eyes and a body like a dreadnought, with a larger lower bout for better bass resonance. I like bass resonance. It was our first date, if ya call hiking up the south side of Fridley’s Gap a date, which I do. Part of the trail was in a creek. I was in the lead, stepped up onto a big rock and looked back. She was squatting down, dipping her bandana in the water, talking about something or other. The way she was squatting allowed me a clear view straight up the left leg of her shorts.
She wasn’t wearing underpants. I couldn’t see everything she had but I could see enough – gentle folds and amber waves. I have had more than a few rapturous visions and that was one, by God. I was struck dumb and motionless, transfixed by the glimpse of that sacred, hidden grotto. All else dropped away.
Then she looked up and said “You going?”
“Oh, yeah, I was just going to offer you a hand up.”
So we hiked around a bit, got kinda lost, I was late getting to work. Yes, of course, I fucked her later, many times and William Blake knew what he was about when he said “The nakedness of woman is the work of God.”
That first unintended peek though – that was something.
- This Espresso Shaman frequently and with good reason maligns and insults Baby Boomers, aka “The Worst Generation”. I only do it because they suck and we’ll all be better off when they’re gone. I do want to be very clear that my utter contempt for those born in the years immediately following WWII does not include Roky Erickson who, though having an incarnation-date smack-dab in the middle of 1947, the peak year of the Baby Boom, is a Bodhisattva.
- The I’m-Not-A-Racist Paradox: The more emphatically a person declares that they are not a racist, the more racist that person really is (cf. Glenn Beck).
- Three albums I won’t listen to at all unless I can listen all the way through without interruption: Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, Sleep’s Dopesmoker and John Coltrane’s Ascension.
- I am a feminist. And I hate twee, emotionally-overwrought, crybaby music. I hate it like poison, whether it’s made by males or females, but I am mostly exposed to that kind of dreck by females. Women enjoy listening to horrible music. Women enjoy making horrible music. For every 7 Year Bitch, there are twenty Indigo Girls. It’s fucking awful and it definitely affects my ability to be around women. I’ve become somewhat sensitive to bad music as I’ve aged. It grates on my nerves. I work with women in a restaurant. There is always music playing. It’s a constant struggle to find music that all the employees can agree on. I recently solved the problem for myself by queuing up a few records by Rising Appalachia in the dining room and turning off the speakers in the kitchen. I’d rather listen to the overhead fan than that shit any day.
The real problem, though, is how it taps into the tiny kernel of misogyny that exists deep down inside me. Three seconds of Ani DiFranco is all it takes for the words “Shut up, you stupid cunt” to pop up in my brain. I haven’t come up with a solution yet.
- The character in Finnegans Wake who I most identify with is Shem, the dark, introverted, disfavored son. Sometimes, when I’m feeling discouraged, I think about Shem and I remember that this is how it should be.
-The Statute of Limitations has run out on my most recent, unprosecuted crime, which was property damage. Specifically, I was hiking with a friend in some woods very near the Geo. Washington Nat’l Forest. This piece of real estate was soon to be developed into a gated community by some assholes. There were some signs around saying “Lot For Sale”. My friend and I shot pellets through one of the signs and then pulled it up. We were about to throw it down a ravine when one of the property owner scum walked out of the woods and yelled at us to stop. Our car was right there, he had a cell phone and could easily take a picture of the license plate, plus he knew me from around town, so we didn’t bother trying to get away. We just hung out until he got a state trooper out there to write us up. In the end, the property owner swine decided not to press charges and some paper work was filed about us never trespassing there again.
I would like to state right here that prior to the incident described above, I was out there alone and I vandalized several other signs. I would also like to state that I am not at all sorry and that my only regret is that I did not cause more financial harm to the property owner filth who did, in fact, transform that beautiful parcel of woodland into a gated community. Fuck them.
There are few things more liberating than realizing that the Statute of Limitations has run out.
- Public Service Announcement: Patchouli smells bad. Please stop slathering it all over yourself.
- Here’s a great invention I thought of – earplugs that look like earbuds. That way you can walk around joyfully blocking out the sounds of other people and they won’t try to get your attention because they’ll think you’re listening to a Lady Gaga mp3 on your iphone like a normal person.
- If you meet the Buddha on the road, don’t kill him. Capture him and bring him to headquarters for interrogation.
- The Big Drum In The Sky Religion is not “extreme”. We are not “pushing the boundaries” or “exploring the outer limits”. We’re not even “breaking new ground”. Occasionally, I might use the word “experimental”, but only because it’s so vague and meaningless that it isn’t completely inaccurate.
Great quotes by me:
“Distortion hides a multitude of sins.”
“I’m not currently in Hell. That’s enough to be grateful for.”
“There’s no excuse for lying to children; nor need for one.”
“Don’t wait for God to tell you what to do. Start doing and let God tell you when to stop.”
“A man without a woman is like a dog without an electric can opener.”
“I’ll eat when I’m dead.”