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You Are 16% Slacker

You are anything but a slacker. You're truly a go getter. You never let laziness get in the way of living your life - and you can't stand to see it in others.

Are You a Slacker?

Where do you line up? Or should we just go to lunch and blow it off? LOL

Young Voices and Power

Art is the heart's explosion on the world. Music. Dance. Poetry. Art on
cars, on walls, on our skins. There is probably no more powerful force
for change in this uncertain and crisis-ridden world than young people
and their art. It is the consciousness of the world breaking away from
the strangle grip of an archaic social order." ~ Louis J. Rodriguez

1,2,1,2,3, Yeah

Me and all my friends
We're all misunderstood
They say we stand for nothing and
There's no way we ever could
Now we see everything is going wrong
With the world and those who lead it
We just feel like we don't have the means
To rise above and beat it

So we keep waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
Its hard to beat the system
When we're standing at a distance
So we keep waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change

Now if we had the power
To bring our neighbors home from war
They woulda never missed a Christmas
No more ribbons on the door
When you trust your television
What you get is what you got
'cause when they own the information ooohhh,
[Waiting On the World to Change lyrics on http://www.metrolyrics.com]

They can bend it all they want!

That's why we're waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
It's not that we don't care
We just know that the fight ain't fair
So we keep waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change

We're still waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
One day our generation
Is gonna rule the population

So we keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
Now we keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
We keep on waiting (waiting)
Waiting on the world to change
Waiting on the world to change
Waiting on the world to change
Waiting on the world to change.

What will their world be like? We are only borrowing it you know. The young ones are close behind. People should not cringe at this thought. They are products of nebulous times but they are more gounded than you think. One common thread I've noticed: they loathe self-absorption. Maybe they will be in the right place at the right time. I kinda think they will;).

Potential and Forgotten Band Names

I used to be in a band. I played bass. It was fun and we got paid in beer and ....stuff. We played fiesta parties and the occasional bar on State Street. The name of our band was Ed Asner's Back
Ed was a burly, hairy guy that we would laugh about. Like him having a death wish and going hiking in Alaska without a shirt during hunting season. You get the drift... Life wasn't real complicated back then.

The idea of band names has never really left me. I'll hear a phrase, and I will spontaneously think to myself,"That would be a good band name." Still happens to this day. Some names have stuck in my mind. At least until the shock therapy takes hold....

Mong Van - I even came up with a concept for their first CD cover. It shows a large van, circa early 80's, orange and filled with Downs Syndrome people. The title of their first CD is room for one more. If this band could do some 3 chord blasting, it might go platium. Remember there is no bad PR.

I still like Ed Asner's Back. I know I'm biased, so be it.

I've always liked No Life East of I-5. This was my smug coastal period for which I will not apologize. Sorry about that.

Cocktails from Hell. I was in this band at their rehearsal stage and formation period. They found a replacement bass player that had superior skills to me. Very cool guys. Their front singer was the great grandson of Cecil B. Demille. They were a pre Janes Addiction outfit that did the most incredible version of Neil Young's Ohio. They weren't political, I think they dug the chord structure.

Bloody Anal Discharge. Wicked and horrible but very early 80's LA punk scene. They never made it out of my head. Do I hear a collective sigh? LOL

I'll think of more. They are like the voices in my head, they just won't leave me alone. You got any? I'd love to hear them...

Dreams Under Construction

Lately I have been talking and thinking about dreams. They have the ability to mirror everything going on in the past, present and future. There are resources out there that will help you delve into what they mean. Or at least, perhaps, point in some direction.

People have told me that they have dreamed about me. Not my pixelated other self but me. One dream about me was fascinating and required some outside perspective by a woman with bruja roots. Let me explain, a woman I work with is Hispanic. She was the one who had the dream about me. Not that kind of dream silly! She has relatives still in Old Mexico who are tied to the essence of the place. Not on your toursit paths I would imagine. Focus big Focus!!

She is at a restaraunt with three of her friends. They are enjoying big mugs of traditional Mexican Hot Chocolate. You know with the cream and the cinnamon sprinkled liberally on the cream and the saucer itself? So they are at this restaraunt on a patio that is surrounded by large trees full of green leaves. The leaves are swaying in the breeze ever so gently.

I walk by. She knows who I am but its a tip of the toungue type of sceanrio. I don't look sad but am just strolling through the locale. As I continue to walk, I turn my head slightly to look at the people enjoying their mugs of hot chocolate. At this point, according to the recepient of the aforementioned dream I am encased in a box? of silver rain. I do not look alarmed and continue to walk on my way.....

I'm not sure if I want to hear about this one or not! Of course I jest, I've got to know. Any thoughts?

If I could have one dream come true it would be this: to be with my family at a summer house where our children were born. To be holding them all on a star filled night when the heaven seems to be a blanket of stars I could wrap us all in. I could enjoy their warmth and they in turn could enjoy mine. I would have my nose near my wifes beautiful hair and smell its soft, wonderful fragrance. She and I would hold each other tightly with our fab foursome so close to us that they are part of us. We would all smile at one another knowing that we had all truly come home....

I hope your dreams are of love and peace. I will dream of you in those terms...

Blends happen

My first impulse was to blog about a memorable dog. Always loved Jim's poetry and as a kid and adult that had dogs, it really spoke to me. Googled to find one of poems that spoke of a dog that had passed and found out about his passing also. This blend just came out.....

When I was dating my then girlfriend I inherited her dog Bear. I swear to this day the dog was touched by extraterristials. If not abducted. She was a chow + lab equation. Energy with its own atomic number and athletic skills! If there was a canine olympics, this dog would have owned the gold. Could jump an 8 foot fence from a standing position and could do marathons back to back to back. Oh yeah, all the while carrying a deer leg bone in her mouth. The damn dog ate a chipmonk for a training snack once. Good God as James Brown would say!!

This dog was graced with a deportment that bordered on devilish. She would get out and that would be a situation, to say the least. Run amok is a phrase that comes to mind. To prove this point I offer this: what dog on the loose would pick one house out of an entire neighborhood and trash a zen rock garden?

She was miraculous in her insanity. It was a classic love/hate relationship. But if the truth were told, and I'm doing that, she was the first dog to sniff our two oldest as infants to give them the accepting lick upon their heads. I guess it was her welcome offering to our pack. It came from her heart as it is with all dogs.

I have fond memories of her leaping through a foot of freshly fallen snow, or in winds that made me rush inside for warmth. She would be out back in her prime wagging her question mark tale and smiling a smile that would all but convey," buy the food moron, my ass is free!"

We moved to milder yet harsher climes about 4 years ago. She was an old dog now, still full of piss and spark if you caught her on the right day. Her muzzle had grayed and her hips ached her fierce. I don't think she really could hear anymore. She was the one family member destined to stay in the cooler climes of 7,000 feet.

I took her to the vet that day. Amidst the chaos of packing and moving. I had her sit up front so I could scratch her ears and talk to her. The short 5 minute trip to the vets was a flood of memories: of falling in love, of fun walks in the mountains, of watching my wifes belly grow with our first two sons, of secret whispers in the shovel ears of baby b.

I lifted her on to the table. The young lady vet explained that it was painless really and that she would have suffered moving down to the valley with its 110+ degree days. She asked if I was ready and I just nodded my head.

The first shot made her groggy in about 15 minutes. I talked to her as I did my sons when they were young and fighting sleep. I spoke of blazing aspens and her then jet black fur. Her endless energy and the excitement she would have at the thought of a baby hamster being nearby. The sigh that she would utter when she laid against the woman that I had fallen so deeply in love with. She sighed one last sigh and snuggled her face against my hand.

The doctor asked me if I wanted to say goodbye before the last shot was given. If I wanted time and then had the option of excusing myself before the grand finale. I opted out and stayed. I owed Bear this last gesture. The shot was given.

Her body tensed and I felt that familiar strength again. I felt her leaps, her escaping bursts of speed, her essence. It was over, she was gone. The vet said I'll give you a few minutes. As I stroked her gray muzzle one last time, I thanked her for her being part of package deal. It was the best bargains I've ever had.

People and pets don't last forever. I'll wander these broad manicured suburban streets for you tonight Jim and Bear.

A shocker!

Working on this I found out a favorite poet had passed. Sigh.... Great poet and a real fixture in Northern Arizona. Some how his passing fits in with this eventually finished blog. I had to share one of the poems he shared with some high school students from a time that seems a million years ago. Damn, the man was only 54 years old! We only visit any world for a short duration of time, why not make the best of it? :)


FETCH
1. The marrow of it's this:
that night after night I dream
you alive, dream you clawing
up and through the snarl
of spade-lopped roots and loam,
through the cairn beneath the pine
in a bower of pines, a wildwood
of pines, beneath a wheeling moon --
shaking from your body
the tattered blanket, shaking
from your throat the collar
of blood -- the ball
in your moth where I left it,
your coat wet where I kissed it --
breaking through underbrush
onto the trail, tracking it back
to the tired-rutted road --
loping now, running now --
your nostrils flared
and full of the world --
ignoring the squirrel,
ignoring the jay, ignoring
the freeway's litter of bones - -
night nearly dead as you
bolt for the lane,
up the drive, into the yard --
panting now, breathing now --
racing from door to window to door,
scratching at the screen,
whining at the glass, the ball
in your mouth -- Lo,
wouldn't I shake from this
sweet gnawed dream to rise
and fetch you in
with the light that returns
me day after day,takes you again and again.
-- Jim Simmerman, ca1989

The original BB - Baby Bear

Working on a blog entry about an influential animal that came with the Kimala package.......