Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Es verdad, "stone walls do not a prison make", and I guess you could have a Walden Pond of the mind, but some of us would prefer to have it manifested on a more empirical realm. I think Brautigan would have agreed--recall his piece in TFIA, A Walden Pond for Winos-- the hobo-artists with a flea circus biz in San Fran. thinking of getting a bunk at the local sanitorium for winter months? Besides were one to attempt in the Bushocracy to move out to boonies by oneself or with comrades the yokels would think you wuz all queer wiccan child molesters or at least not republicans and yr Walden Pond would then be viewable from yr bunk in Podunk County Jail.

This is Pottersville, the Sprawl, the hive, Atascadero Inc., LarryFlyntBurg, GregorSamsaville, brother, all the way down. I say we form a group to put Hermann Munster on Mt. Rushmore. Or rmaybe Jenna Jameson's panocha.

in that short amount of time, two more entries appeared and I have more or less no idea what they're about. LOL.

--k

"soozen(i love this name) there is always a flower in the concrete, and that's all well and good, but once again, we can't ignore the dirt. But I do think that we as a race (the human race) focus too much on what's negative, through the blindness of trying to fix it. I've done that a lot, but sometimes, that's what's needed. You'll never get up and fix the crack if you're too mesmerized by the daisies growing inside."

iz..without dirt, no flowers...without shit, no fertilizer...

(not all cracks need fixin', let the daisies grow. Hah!)

what is needed is understanding that we are the creators of our situations...feeling depressed and focus on the negative creates exactly that...

Instead of dispairing over what isn't...or what should be, change comes individually...you are responsible, I am responsible, each of us is responsible for our environment and how we change our world.

If the world is cracked...plant daisies.

Peace,
SooZen

what is needed is understanding that we are the creators of our situations...feeling depressed and focus on the negative creates exactly that...

Speaking truth to power

I been starting to pay more attention to my breath, I know that east and west are arbitrary notions on the map. But it seems in the west we pay more attention to our spincters then our mouths.

I think uncle siggie said "we are born between urine and feces"

Funkadelic kicked in with
"I knew I had to rise above it all or drown in my own shit."

there is another issue her, the opposite sex, if she wants to fly off to europe to soak up the culture, yeah go for it, but if she is doing it to cheer somebody up, to nurture him, cold hearted old man that I am I say forget about that. Go for your self not him. But what do I know about the female urge to nurture life.

Instead of dispairing over what isn't...or what should be, change comes individually...you are responsible, I am responsible, each of us is responsible for our environment and how we change our world.

there it is: sister buddhabitch

I used to dream ( in my forties) of retiring to the pastoral Oregon or Washington of my childhood. Forget it. The air force generals and weapons engineers ( my brother-in-law is one of them) from Los Angeles who got rich on the weapons boom ( pun intended) of the seventies and the eighties have all the best enclaves already owned. Whidbey Island is covered in Vietnam officer corps retirees.

So, my point is that age is a central force in all this argument about ideal abodes and states of mind.

At sixty, I'm pleased that I live on a small stipend in Southern California in a dumb tract house. I've been told there is no such house anymore since all of them cost out at over half a million bucks these days.

The piece of paper or book under your fingers and eyes is as close to paradise as you'll ever get.

There is disorder everywhere else.

Proust argued that he could write a literary masterpiece by staying in his room. And did.

In contrast, fewer people ( proportionately) probably care about Captain Frederick Marryat's adventures today than when they first appeared.

My point is not to argue about literary genres, though.

Some dream of escaping to a Scottish isle; I used to dream of escaping to Berkeley in 1968, and did.

But it all becomes street sweeper dust, this dream of escape to an exciting city; and as Dave Barry points out, watching for the seven warning signs of colon cancer can become more of a focus for your existence than worrying about whether you can repel the pirate boarders heaving alongside your schooner.

Healthy, interesting lives issue from healthy, interesting imaginations. By "healthy" imaginations " I don't mean those that would necessarily be approved of by Mormon youth counselors, of course.

I mean closer to what Allen Ginsberg and William Blake and Terry Southern

http://www.terrysouthern.com/


and Tuli Kupferberg

http://www.furious.com/perfect/tuli.html



meant by the imagination.


And while I'm at it, take a look at the real wet dream of the US way of looking at "its" universe: Dr. Strangelove and the Long Rod Penetrator:

http://www.nypress.com/17/52/news&colum ... itchik.cfm





Zlatko

Here's a much more creative use of the imagination than inventing the Long Rod Penetrator:


Ivanka, the Russian contortionist, performing the "Wild Hair Rucksack" ( translation of Russian name) on Russian television, a maneuver for which she became famous in 1981.



--Z

hehe...you kill me, zlatko


i have been thinking about retirement lately, and where i want to do it...i've come up with numerous schemes (there must be a self-employment of some kind built in...i have a feeling i would be one of those 'died 3 montsh after retiring' guys if i didn't do something)...but in the end, i seem to be ending up at the same place - be near my kids

unfortunately, i doubt they would stay where i was...i think it would fail in the end

so i'm starting to think it maybe best to retire far from them, to take the pressure off

but i get confused...i keep going in circles

Old trees just grow stronger
old rivers get wilder everyday (quoted loosely from memory)

Oh yes professior Z

The splendor of youth
passion and compassion
to find the holy grail when still young
to live a life of one's own at twenty one
while others become ageing children

better late then never
I embrace the tattered rags of old age
It beats me.

A Walden Pond for Winos?

Yes, the contortionist artiste, another wage laborer performing for her corporatist patrons....an apt metaphor for life in the Microsoftocracy.......and note her ready smile, the willingness to go the extra mile, for a few shekels more

The real dream begins when the holes in the one you had to buy into, become big enough to fall through, and when you are falling, you realize that loss of everything is really gain of everything that you had from the begininng.

There are no real countries, no divisions, we are all the same, and we've a long way to go to get there.

I pledge allegiance to the whole.........

My cuntry tis of me.........

Of us I sing.......


H

Um....Hest....would you like to borrow an


o

NO fair!!!! No one wants to be cynical but me. *pout*

--k

Heh.
well mousey, like they say, you can take a girl out of the country but you can't take the cuntry out of the.....

heh heh. oops.


H

hest!!!! *cries* Hest dontcha love me anymore?!!! Don't you except my youthful right to be an asshole without calling me out?!! Damit, I thought we had a connection *goes into hysterics* how could you do it to me?!!
--k

Of course I love you Iz! I only hope you can love me, being as I am an old crone asshole, never intending not to accept the call of youth, perhaps just a little deaf in years.....
You go girl.....I dig what you do for sure! Not to mention very much!
Keep doin it!

H