John

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Listen, listen, listen to the homeless.

Here is her beach outside of Capetown.

A woman friend of ours named, Aspasia, will undergo surgery on Wednesday, July 6th at 11 a.m. at the California Pacific Medical Center, San Francisco. Please take a moment to send her a wave of loving prayers at that time so that she may see South Africa again.

“And the truth shall set you free” whether you want it to or not.

Monday, the thirteenth.

Only sounds scary because W. is still president.

I will be posting much more regularly now.

I've been reading lately about the power of the shadow self. The paradox is that if you ignore it, it will control you; however if you use it as a kind of big screen projector you actually can get strengthened by its supposed negativity and warn your loved ones that Mr. Hyde is waiting somewhere down that alley.

Think what would happen to you if you couldn't have nightmares. I'm writing a novel in a month as part of NanoWriMO challenge. I'm letting the dark guy out to roam.

Are you colorblind?
http://i.madblast.com/funflash/swf/ColorBlind2.swf

Let me pose a question to the universe. What kind of animal gets shit on its socks?

I'm starting to worry about my place in the cosmos.

It has taken me almost two weeks to absorb my reaction to a Bartok Birthday Concert at the Unitarian Church in San Francisco.

The pieces that disturbed me the most were his piano variations of some Hungarian folk songs and a very late string quartet.

The Hungarian folk song variations ricochet from country pleasantries to urban anger. It's as if Bartok starts off in the nostalgia of his youth which ironically sparks remembrance of repressed childhood angerr. This then gets reprocessed into loud banging on the keys. Then silence, reflection and another go at the same source with a different result this time.

If therapy were ever set to music, this is what it would sound like.

The painfully healthy resonance for me was that the piece felt like working through the repressed feelings in a marriage to outburst, reconciliation and refound love.

Listening to the string quartet reminded me how much total attentiveness is required. The experience is like trying to experience an entire Shakespeare play in twenty minutes. The movements all end with a low register slightly dissonant chord as if the music could deal better with the vicissitudes of voices rather than with their reconciliation -- leaving that up to the audience to carry home with them.

Graduations from the point of view of the podium are the best. Got to give a commencement address that I hoped would evoke more thought than it contained. The temptation for a chronic English teacher is to honor every subject with a two and a half hour treatment. I limited myself to seven minutes and received high praise for its brevity. "Pithy" would be the word that I would use but I didn't want to be mistaken.

Loft filling with king palms and trees in pots. It makes a difference. Green thoughts in a green shade.

He treads fear,
dehydrated of love,
hope, serenity.

Buddha sympathizes
and lets him drown
like an anchor.