and now you are and i am now

some time has passed indeed! i have been on the road, traveling mightily quick-n-slow-sometimes...i left ethan and steve (the other post-windward buddies) on an early cold morning in seattle and trekked out to federal way to pick up my first ride at a freeway ramp in federal way in the rain. [magical thing #1:] after a couple offers to take me like 10 miles a young pre-med student eager to flout her parents' authority by buying me a train ticket to portland; i got there in the pouring rain and talked to jbird on the phone and extended my ticket to eugene.

spent a couple days with alma and declan in their cozy eugenian world, town of co-ops and a sweet infoshop and freeschool and a volunteer-run foodbuying locallovefest called grower's market [magical thing #2 was being starving and wandering with alma in the rain trying to find the grower's market and stumbling upon some free incredible poppy seed onion things that led us to the market]...


eugene was wandering biking-in-the-rain, excited to make connections and follow up and find things to do, was a vegan cornbread stand and travelerpunk kids reading on the sidewalk,

[magical thing #3:] i visited the maitreya ecovillage (in eugene) and happened to run into a friend(sortof) from high school...while we weren't quite friends then, our paths converged now and wow dang what a good feeling, somehow; these days when people ask where i'm from there are so many layers of recency to pull back that i don't often get back to pittsburgh, to those days and that sphere and the people i knew then.

[magical thing #4] was shooting an email out to a rideshareperson just before leaving to hitch and hearing back from them immediately--jan jim june jed?--and then she picked me up and ended up driving me all the way to mount shasta, down through medford and mountains and trees and into a snowstorm. i rode on a mattress in the back trying not to put my smellysockfeet anywhere and listened to her and the other woman she picked up talk about amma, the hugging-guru-spiritual-leader they were both heading down to san ramon to visit.

[magical thing #5:] arriving in mount shasta, a solid foot of snow on the ground and i'm trudging through the snow with all of my stuff wrapped around me and snow peeking over the top of my rubber boots, trying to sneeze and roll a cigarette at the same time in some snowflake-free shadow of my body and someone stops a few feet away and says "hi." we end up standing in the snow for an hour talking about myths and lostness and where beauty is to be found and her name is amanda and i never see her again but she gives me her phone number and promises she'll try and find me a place to stay.


i sit outside the co-op for a couple hours with a sweet sign that reads "new travel buddy!" plus some other stuff and end up spending the night in the living room of david, this older white guy drummer who is thrilled to have someone to bounce his ideas about communism-capitalism-ascendantmasterdom-spiritualgrowth off of.

hitched down i5 to 299W across to the coast and then south on 101, thumb out
surrendering myself and hoping some friendly feelings of humanity would carry me to willits
and this process, of putting myself in a situation where i had no other way out of my situation except to rely on someone else
or some concept of a human family somehow,
(and through that discover a kind of interdependent independence--
a paradox that feels pretty alive.)

made it from shasta to willits in a day (magical things#6-10) and stayed with az (old friends! new goats! new songs! lukewarm baths and sprouted sunflower 'yogurt'! wheeee what delight...magical things abounded, probably at least up to #20) until thanksgiving we gave thanks and got in the car to go visit amma (the guru of hugging, saint of unconditional love--a rather cultish figure) down in san ramon--

san ramon to berkley to oakland (what a magical city sf/oakland/the bay is--
#21 free food in peoples' park
#22 wandering into the albany bulb artpark spectacular
#23 accidentally hitching
#24 meeting bernard from madison in berkeley
#25 unintentionally finding a place to live for a new friend
#26 happening to talk to someone kind of cool-looking who ended up becoming a fast friend and unlocking the infoshop for me
#27 glittercity and hilltops
#28-#35atleast more magic)

...to davis
and tomorrow to sacramento to fiddletown to safan ranch! i'm excited to be back in the dirt and among trees, a bit more quiet and i can unpack my stuff for the first time in a while. i dream in maps and trajectories.
doop-da-
maybe this is boring, sorry, full of small details,
moving fast singing on repeat, eschewing plans except where necessary,
making decisions from my heart and my stomach-gut region (somewhat difficult to understand sometimes).

i have been reading kirschenmann, this great farmer-philosopher-fellow
a moment where he says something like,
prayer is paying close attention to something, so closely attending that you forget yourself (your ego) for a while. not so different from coming to love, for instance, soil...really seeing all sides and processes inside & out, beyond and behind it, being in touch with the cycles of which it is a part, appreciating its past and future lives.
thinkin about that as i dig beds today and bumble around this quiet very white house...work that is a prayer, invisibly rewarding and transcendant of its mundanity. mmm.

love to all as
we are
and we are among mysteries that will never happen again,
miracles which has never happened before
and shining this our now must come to then

psst.




hey,,



thanks you all

j meets a person on the street, cashes in a smile, wakes to a frown

in speeding cars
we learn silence,
the faults lines
between every piece of time

the night's body was my brutal brother
where i go i can't take a friend.
against the dance floor
i know how to ache
where the flesh lurches

alone and spinning because of the ideas we have
i know we try at least one kind of war.
our lips trembling questions make
such eyes have their doubt
but i do not fail at feeling
never having been in
i am not out

waking up next to you feels like november when
the last possible fruit
fat on the branch
f a l l s off and becomes something somewhere else.
cold fingers get warm on
instrument strings
more confident than ever
i have a song to play
and as always
two feet to walk
no reason to talk

who's mehitabel?

also!
this week!
z's homes nest up at the roost!
a team of windbusting frigid bxc bikers, swoop in from madtown,
via mke
and crash here
on the same day
that j.boog returns
from places east
whaaaaaaaa
t?
(also last night at dill pickle food co-op i was asked
"are you a member?"
"no but my partner might be... justin tate"
*typey typey* "are you elizabeth tate?"
"ahaaahaa, ha. no. no that's not me.")

so thanksgiving, will be a raucous pile of bodies
overwhelming for sure
definitely.
so many cooks
in a kitchenette

a day in the life

welcome to squareville hills forest park place, chicago.
your humble hero mr monster had an epic day down in the hills here which he'd like to share.

item: he finished his project at work. it looks like this:

item: he stole something and got away with it. for the last time...
item: he successfully navigated hell and came away with a fitted, rented, white fucking bowtie tuxedo. speculations as to why may now commence.
item: he did the laundry. oh my gawd is there no end to the madness?
item (yes it keeps going): he paid two, not one but two bills.
item: he met with a prospective personal knife fighting trainer and secured a lesson for the morrow at a very reasonable price.
item: he finally spoke telemetrically with a dear old friend with whom a conversation was long overdue.
item: he beat starfox for the nintendo 64 in record time, he kids you not.
item: he took multiple walks.
item: he took a valium.
item: he watched an entire movie and half an episode of the daily show, all at 1.2x speed.
item: he wrote a poem. holy shit it's been a while. here it is:

twinkle toes & the life of the mind
went for a walk
swung their legs
and peacock tailbones,
winging along.
in focus! they yelled at the offal shoremen.

said twinkle toes to her
gerrymandered friend:
whatever you say, their curves are much too flat.

but i just had them done,
said the life of the mind,
what-all do you mean by that?
twinkle toes crinkled rows
cufflinks all in line
teach me how you kick your heels
toenails oh so fine.

but nicely nicely,
the life of the mind had missed the point
while twinkle toes could only laugh
and never age.

item: he posted in the damn blog! baooooooooooooooooo!

some windward tidbits

a day of brief brushes in seattlelands,
wandering eyes and hello's to burst open scarf-covered tunnelvisions.

here's two gems from windward, so you can see my world a bit...
farm life confessions from windward...filmed by ethan
windwardian farm life, music video edition (steve's the one playing the guitar)

I been careless.

White limo, old old old, on the corner of Kenmore and Thorndale, painted in red on the sides and back, "Stop the killing, be kind to each other." I am surrounded by white people who find the "war" between the "Wilson" and "Thorndale" gangs an amusing urban anecdote, a place to claim faux ownership over our neighborhood, joking, "We'll come out on top, of course." We will, because it won't touch us. Oh, you mean the gang you've claimed as yours! The gangs filled with faces of kids you've never met with problems you don't understand.

Well, shit. Whence the moral superiority, T'mo? You been just as careless, stamping across the landscape with feet just as light and unburdened as these false claimants. Been careless with your money, time, dreams, friendships, drinking, smoking, possessions, food, breathing, sleeping, electricity, windows and doors, locks, keys, tobacco, communication, plans, dates, words. Think yourself into a tizzy. Dream of the devil retiring to an old mansion, the pale blue paper house that appears over and over, burning it to a crisp brown and dressing up your friends as ghouls. Think yourself in circles, go ahead. But that's it, no more.

it took a while for you to find me
cuz I was hiding in the lime tree
the lime tree

the sun and the moon
yeah, watch them burn
they burn for each other
though they take their turns

and how I wonder why
the green grass grows
is it to sway
to greet and meet our toes ?

how crazy is this ?
like long-told lore
we live in heaven
yet we search for more

come meet me at the fire
in flames, we'll melt and not harden
we'll sing and we'll dance
and remember that we're in the garden

hi kids,
love from the outdoors

bug-eyes, holes in the ground, peeing on lawns

yesterday i fed the bunnies alfalfa pellets and hugged ruben from behind as he stirred mikey-the-goat-meat chili for lunch,

today i woke up in a mummybag on a white carpet of a floor of a house in columbia city in seattle in a different world.

i have not been posting much recently, though i've been reading avidly and thinking about it,

guess because relationships in my world were moving and shifting,

reading about the diggers in california in the 60s, the san francisco mime troupe and the free family setting up explosive cultural-overhaul communes left and right,

and what do i think? in any moment? and what am i doing, what are we doing?

i am full of vivid images...a winter picnic at the edge of the plateau we lived on, andrew communing with a twisting oak that leaned out over the edge. sarah and i dancing with finger puppets performing a drama of interspecial romance in high british accents as walt watched and smiled and occasionally muttered puns. the front stoop of my trailer. hands twisting in the dark, our last slumber party at windward, and where is the line between sensual and sexual. the feeling of the kitchen at night after everyone had gone to bed and i sat alone with a notebook.

driving into seattle was something

at first the lights were exciting

then i realized i couldn't look at things fast enough,

too much too fast,

so i closed my eyes and played seven with ethan.

the world is big! the universe is loving! all people are beautiful!

i am excited to set out soon (wednesday i think?) on my way down south, traversing new worlds and unknown territories, seeing how my life looks when i offer it in stories. i am excited to see my family-friends-community, thread together different worlds we live in. i am excited to walk outside and smoke a cigarette.

so hello and hello and hello...

massachusetts, the first state to make education compulsory

last night i went to a film called "waiting for superman"
it is about the american education system, in its current awfulness
gosh it is so sad to see what is happening out there, and hard to understand
it seems to have changed so much even since i was in school
so many children are being shut out and left behind
thinking life is not for them...that they wont make it.
what fear and burden to carry around at such a young age.
the main blame are the outdated teachers' unions that make it impossible to fire the bad ones.
out of history these unions arose to protect women, but now all they do is perpetuate the shit-show and protect lazy assholes
allowing no competition or innovation. i would normally say competition is bad thing but in this case it could be beautiful.
and the situation is so ridiculous, unbelievable
that we all stand by, our leaders especially, and act like our systems are stronger than we are
that we cant change what has been written down for years.
it is no wonder why america is going on in the way it is
no fresh ideas, no innovation.
im getting a real good insight right now because the friend i am staying with is training to become a teacher
and it real passionate.
there are so many
teachers getting fat and dim, texting during class, reading magazines, getting bored, getting marriend, lacking wonder
and it all gets worse as the neighborhood income drops.
every now and again a master teacher comes along and shows them how it is done
but it doesnt matter because the bad ones cant be fired
and the good ones cant be rewarded
SUCH A FUCKING JOKE
stirs me right up
adults are selfish and unwilling to change, they wont even do it for their children
they have to be right.
....i see the potential in becoming a teacher and the joy in protecting the life-force of a child
encouraging it is truly a way to change the world
im a thinking about teaching in some capacity
you have to be so many things a friend, a performer, a singer, personable, loving, one step ahead of the youngins, but also open to their wisdom, and so much more....! gosh i fear for the ones who think if they dont graduate they will be nothing,
breaks my heart

i know school sucks, but so long as it is here
and kids have to go then this crap has to stop.

i want to slam america against a wall
and yell in its face
what the fuck are you doing
if we are nothing
america is nothing

Followed a calling and came up to Mount Shasta for a medicine circle yesterday, and am feeling comfy (sleeping in a heated home for the first time in a couple of months), domestic, and overwhelmed by this culture of dreaded california growers and rainbow songs on repeat. "Blessings, brother." Flow, healing, evolution.

I am mostly blissful, but also doubtful.

One thing that's been bothering me is the conflation of sacred cultures, e.g. medicinal plants from Peru discussed in terms of chakras. I feel this analytic anthropologic need to keep traditions pure, to go back to the sources behind all this California fluff. But why can't I simply be thankful and open towards the "new tribe" that's being created here? Sometimes I feel drawn towards Argentina to the international rainbow gathering and the gypsy horse caravan afterwards towards Bolivia. Wow. Dreamland. It's suddenly available to me, but is it me?

Mateo assures me that the rainbow gatherings are not about fluff but survival. He's been traveling the world for five years now and is one of the most in-tune people I've ever met. We had a hysterical-laugh session the the other day, yelps, giggles, howls for over ten minutes--- after which Mateo launches into a full-on kundalini awakening with full body spasms and uncontrollable orgasm-like noises. "But it's no big deal," he repeats. What is a big deal?

I had come to ceremony hoping to gain some clarity about what what what do I want to do with this life, and feel now even more uncertain. Life at no-yo gardens is all I had hoped for in so many ways, but the isolation can be hard. Once Kris, Mateo, and Yanti leave, will I want to stay? Where will I go? Should I plan or not plan? California, why do you leave a sour taste in my mouth after the organic syrupy sweetness?

Why am I so worried anyway?

a photographic response to creeper's plea

i started writing a text-post. it was boring. you can read it in the drafts if you like.
here's pictures. that's more fun. i wish i could bring back the < lj-cut > for you right now.
love,
-me

p.s. you
probably will have to open the images individually to see all of them?


self portrait in a letter
i seem to be thinking about my blood, school, anarchy, eliot, my bike, madison, and my numerous crushes.


took elz' bread recipe to heart and have been playing around with that a lot


dreaming up ideas for dinner parties and then having them


debbie is wearing julie hagan's turtleneck (???)
while enjoying house-made dosa, sambhar, and chutney


visiting home


homebodies


homebuddies
(the salad cancels out the cigarette)
(he never smokes cigarettes)


an appropriate last photo of the home i love and will miss

i don't really have a picture of my beautiful bicycle: sweet dumps,
they occupy much of my thinking
oh what a hottie
mmmbikes

p.s. where is everyone?? c'mon peeps -- post!

i want to love you, you young thing

this vineyard is like one giant sense of humor
i'm not sure what i've stepped into, though i learn a little everyday
move a box a few inches only to move it again
work days that don't start til noon, then get rescheduled or rethunk (redrunk?)
grapes that dry on the vine
wine rots in the barrel
a wwoof crew that snickers at the insanity but still gets gushy warm feelings
over a household that reminds of their own ass crazy family.

i've been thinking of googling "how to make wine"
and sharing that with the folks here
it could seriously help.........

the guys and i snort and whisper like naughty school kids
or some ridiculous band of brothers come together by some bizarre choice and chance
kids stay for months, often leave, then return

i'm just enjoying being a part of the show:
playing baseball with sticks and pine cones under the redwoods,
climbing live oaks,
rough housing,
conga lines,
grape fights,
laughing in the face of any organization or semblance of structure,
learning to take eeeeeverything in stride and roll with allllll the punches.

i can't ignore this really palpable feeling though
that this ranch, vineyard, project would be so much better run if it were just us kids.
i think they know it too..
there's a reason we're all here.
there's so much in these people and this place, it's almost like it just hasn't become aware of itself yet, awoken to this picture of plenty

in the mean time, we make wine like we're retarded
play music like we've just drank all the retarded wine
and i keep thinking about love
and the family i've already got
(who's got awesome skills by comparison, way)

and dreaming late at night of young things
and their guts
and their gall
sexy bodies, et al

back from norge

back in boston
walkin lost on streets
swarms of shoes and beeping phones
rough faces and rougher talk
brisk walk and brief cases
boston you're super practical and oh so money!
you make me want to go back to school so that i dont become
one of these invisible folks on the margins of your day
the ones walked passed forgotten and blamed
if i quit school and i become poor will i become a junkie too?
is that what you do
to them?
why do they talk to themselves--
they not only beg for a coin but for an eye and ear
so dont be mean.
in boston and its surrounding jiggle people eat ideas and news for all their meals and
pamper their guilt, a book store full of addicting liberal stuff
whole foods around every corner
a n d coffee (organic fair trade crinkly faced old jungle woman of course!)
harvard, mit, tufts, blahachusetts
all these people with umbrellas, geometric eyebrows and hungry eyes
and tense loins
little cinnamon, pumpkin, pilgrim spectres, old this old that
400 years old
our grave stones have been around long enough to have that look and be erased by the rain
that's how old we are
burp:cobble stones
norway is a very sane place i now see.

also: i must be more than all these numbers
must be more than my inbox of emails
passport number
negative bank balance
flight number
i must be more than a pair of lungs suckling a joint
a pair of eyes begging the night
and more than this always a bit too small male ass
in these crusty
dump jeans.
i gotta take a look at all these parts
so it is i have returned from a far away place as so many have etc
to reclaim a fragmented life
and scattered friends

for now
these days feel raw
i'll soften unto myself under the eaves of youth
now more fragile and precious than ever
ill dig myself into a dream

***bliss*** reality

At burning man I had done contact improv in center camp with a robed and bearded young boy a couple of times, run into him round heebeegeebees and asked, "where are you from?"
"from everywhere."
turns out he's from here, for now at least. Back Home at the spontaneous rainbow gathering that's happening in the redwoods of mendocino county. I've found myself a new spot, a shakti-flow place where I live and work with a crew of travelers, artisans, musicians, healers, and gardeners. I'm milking goats twice a day and trying to mate Puja with Zeus (he chases after her with a painful-looking erection while she bleats and poops), clearing garden beds to plant garlic, kale, and cover crop, and getting into long psycho-spiritual discussions with Kris and Mateo where we drift through utopias and ram-dass style ruminations on breathing (all over sprouts and steamed squash). Yeah, I can see myself sticking around here for a while. Kris is all about ayuasca and soma, super-medicines from the Amazon and Himalayas that make your eyes sparkle and clear your mind. There's a make-shift temple for meditation and yoga, and all work is cosmic (no hours, no numbers). Stace sells djunn and cheesecake at different concerts in the area and seems to know everyone in mendocino.
I've been thinking about attachments- to my own desires, to friends/family, to goals of personal development-- in contrast with Mateo and Yanti's style of drifting around the earth. It's making me put to rest a lot of the questions and plans I had had floating around in my head in order to just be here until the next opportunity arises. In any case, Venus is in retrograde and it's going to be difficult to make big decisions until the last week of november. May retreat from communication for awhile.

damn
what could be better than raw almond butter and orange blossom mountain honey??

or
running around a botanical garden featuring different habitats from across the world
now in mexican cloud forest
now in american redwoods
now in asian funny plants with funny haircuts
now rolling in the grass
wine bottle in hand
lips smeared

or
biking the sunrayed corridor of trees
to the big hungry ocean that tongues the sandy skin
over and over, and over and over
roaring, teasing to take you in with it
but you laugh
and kick it
and practice silly dance moves that involve
flying
into arms that you love

damn

what the hell are jellyfish anyway?