On The Road, Nov. 19 2010

Turbines turning by the force of the wind. My turbines turning by the force of my thought and the will to live inside each given moment. I'm traveling by myself, at this point in time, through space and mind; time is a third and at this time a less important constituent of reality. I do enjoy traveling with others, through space and mind, and time, but equally traversing them alone. It gives me moments to think, to reflect on the madness that lurks in me and around me. I'm mad for the turbines, both inspiring; may they ever turn so gracefully and circular, transforming force into power. However, what we do with that power is another matter all itself. Manifest it, keep it, share it, use it, discuss it, love it; whether we do or do not is another matter still all its own.

The music I'm digging opens up my soul. It opens it up to feel, to laugh, to smile, to dance, to indulge in psychedelic ruminations of experiences past, present, future, and, opening me to lose myself in it, the eternally now.

I'm mystified by it all. The immediate obviousness and other-dimensional mysteriousness of music and mind swirl together like a chocolate and vanilla twist cone, bringing to fruition a pleasant madness for life into this light dark void. I love paradoxes, dig.

I also love how beautiful that river just looked as we sped past it on a plane, but not of the air variety, and how it took to reflecting the sun's rays and sparkled just for me. I sparkled back. And yes, waving willows in the wind, I waved back to you as well; and sparkled.

I am mad with life and teeming with will to keep biting into it, like a juicy and crisp fall apple freshly picked from the orchard, and let its juices salivate my mouth, as I know they will, and roll down my chin, mildly sticky and infinitely sweet. Tasty apples being. Yum. Being tasty apples. Yum.

Stray From the Herd

Down the expressway
Passing cars and trucks
Who knows where they're going
Who gives a fuck

Surprised I hear no moo
As we heard through space
Too busy and stressed
To even save face

I'm lifting out
Hold my spot down
Moo a moo for me
And wipe away the frown

What are we doing?
Does it matter not?
Soon to inhabit the other
So do more than moo and rot

Dig It

"There is no such thing as a weird human being. It's just that some people require more understanding than others."

~Tom Robbins

Dig It

"Let the mind beware, that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious."

~Jack Kerouac

Bloomington found, Oct. 29 2010

Here I sit, at the whim of existence, interested in the strange, the weird, the mad, the philosophic, the poetic, the divine. Madness can bring sanity, to an extent, or at least the proper awareness, perception, and use of it. I feel divine when I sing and when I sin. I feel madness when I'm happy and through any sadness. I see myself sane and I see myself mad. I'm not sure there is even a difference, I'm pretty sure there is not; all is one. I'm rambling, thinking, stumbling, smiling most mischievously. I aim to manifest the divine in all I see and each breath I breathe. In this state of awareness my madness smiles and winks, beckoning to my sanity, seducing it, and then making love to it. There is divinity in our spiritual, psychological, and philosophical love-making. It makes me feel alive. Further contemplation must be had, always.

Bloomington bound, Oct. 28 2010

Zooming down the highway on a bus, top deck, high, happy, aware, and alive. Life is happening to me and all around me. The sky is cloudy and light blue and gray. The sun tries to poke through but rarely does but probably doesn't mind and enjoys the time off, we all do. Only half the trees whizzing through my periphery have leaves; brilliant yellows, blazing oranges, dull greens, and lazy reds too busy dying to glow fire red. The rest are crunchy dirty brown on the ground, returning and giving back to the Earth from whence they came.

How elegant leaves are to have the dignity to look and be so beautiful and contribute to their mother whilst they are dying. If only us humans would take heed of the leaves and gracefully fall from the tree of life. But alas, most of us die ugly and selfishly in boxes of expensive price and dull taste at elaborate ceremonies designed to be sad.

How boring!

If I can help it I will not subject myself (for I sometimes fantasize about watching my own funeral if at all possible) and others to the drabness of mourning but to the vibrations and light of celebration. Celebrate life. Celebrate death. Celebrate nothing. Celebrate everything.

Corn fields barren save for the bottoms of the cornstalks; the corn freshly harvested under harvest moon, which has just passed, and farmers' hearts in the crisp autumn air. A shame that most of it is unhealthy mutant corn, fit for neither cow, chicken, or human, yet consumed by all. This whole genetically modified food bit may be better saved for another time. However, advancing into my studies I will try to do right, as always, and battle the mutant corn, the fields of monsters of sustenance, and the greed from whence they sprouted.

Halloween is lurking, creeping right around the corner which may explain the analogies. The kernels of mutant corn hide out in semi trailers around the world, plotting their entry into our homes; jelly, soda, yogurt, the mutants are everywhere. Why is there corn syrup in my grape jelly? I just want the grapes. Bastards.

What a marvelous fall day however. I love the fall. Give me a pumpkin, give me zen. I love the cool air and believe it loves me as well.

O' Fall crisp and cool
To love you not
Such would be a fool

O' Fall showing off your colors
Enlighten us to see
In everything life's wonders

New Posts

For anyone and no one out there, I am making a conscious effort to post on a more regular basis. I have been writing, nothing special, mostly rants and thinking onto paper, which will become the basis of my posts, starting with that which I have already written. I still struggle with seeing the point of even doing this, as I only write and jot down for my own satisfaction and reverie. But alas, here I go.

light bulb

feeling live and thinking light
tickling fancies into flight

buzzing swarms around a bulb
visions blur and time lulls

how am I to speak?
how am I to crawl?
gliding like a ghost
who is bound to fall

am I here
or am I there?
awaken to becoming
but neither here nor there

thought I might look
but I know I'd be gone
I'd be somewhere over yonder
perhaps looking on

Transcendence

"We were so old-timey we became futuristic..."---quote from my dear friends Amanjo and Heiny.

Super Duper Dustin

"Some of the greatest greatitude is the fact that you will never matter..."---quote by my dear friend Super Duper Dustin.

Be Wise

"Where is the wisdom we lost in knowledge and where is the knowledge we lost in information..."----T.S. Elliot

Busy

For anyone who is actually reading this, I have been out the country on vacation (Dominican Republic) and busy with school as finals are upon. If you are reading this, thank you and I appreciate it. I will return to contribute more in about a week or so when finals are over and my non-academic mind returns. If that makes any sense. ¡Buen fin de semana!

Nation Record Store Day!!

To anyone who collects vinyl LPs, today is National Record Store Day. So get out there and support your local independent record stores and buy something. It takes people like us to keep these places in business. Enjoy and have a grateful day!

Beer Filled With Sunshine

Tasty!

Dig It

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

Waking Sleeping Dreaming

O Lucid reality
O Dreamless Sleep
Though the mountains grow
One is never too steep

O Lucid dreams
O Formless heap
Much too awake
The oceans too deep

O Finite and form
O Empty breath
Too busy being born
Whilst entertaining death

Yesterday

The pangs of existence weigh heavy today

Looking above
The sky and I
Torn and frayed

I itched inside as a small bird sang

In me or to me
did the bird sing..?

Having it both ways
I go about my day

Communism

Bob Dylan banned from bringing conscious music to China. Here's what Rolling Stone has to say about the matter...right here

Beginning

As we shine through life we begin many things and end many. Today is the beginning of my blog and I'm not sure what I'm doing. I consistently read only two blogs and rarely read others. However, I feel that may change with starting this; maybe not though.

I'm hoping this blog may be some sort of a creative outlet for me to express my thoughts, feelings, and what is happening far out there. This shall be it for now but I obviously had to begin somewhere, and so too, does this have to end somewhere.

Namaste,
KoZ