You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'earth' category.
The adventure has subsided, at least for a while. Paper planes dropped me in San Francisco, airport downtime used to draw up a mission statement with my goals for the quarter.
It’s helpful to write things down – one element though, is not talking about a project until its executed, so hold steady till there’s something tangible in my hand, or in my head.
Weirdness followed with the family: Andrew + Karen + Joe + Lindsay + Kirby + Levi for dancing and mad hatter weirdness. pasta. 6 hours of sleep. air mattress. life conversations. scarves and fashion shows. dinner @ b star.
My head is heavy from ginger beer and energized from their beet salad, slowing down with some flying lotus and water drawing in the bathtub. I’m finally home. Home has changed.
The city is much colder now than before I left. I’ve lost that someone to keep warm with at night. It sucks. now there are things I miss, feelings I can’t describe to someone else or pay to replicate.
its 47 degrees and supposed to rain tomorrow. But I will still go outside, with a bittersweet loaf of bread that surrounds my heart. even though the score didn’t end up exactly in each other’s favor, we did it right. And we didn’t even have to bring out the pairing knives.
Israel’s air force wages war in Gaza. They say 400 civilians die. Tzipi Livni, badass in line for PM, says there is no humanitarian crisis. There is nothing to stop. And no ceasefire. My guess? Those troops won’t hold at the edge of the line for much longer. Boys are going in, and people are going to die. The Middle East embroiled in conflict – what else did we expect?
the water is running. bath salt sounds so perfect right about now.
- Tampons
- Bolivians who marry Peruvians and their Peru-Bolian Relatives
- Your old, bearded Grandma (Grandmon)
- The Homeless
- Phish Fans under 30
- Spelt and/or Bulgur
- Getting a boner while riding public transportation or in the doctor’s waiting room
- Boners, in general
- My enflamed coccyx
- Underground Railroad poetic jargon: Moses, Pharaoh, the Israelites
- Jewish or Jewish-looking rappers
- People who silently fart in enclosed spaces (see: boners)
- Cannabis inspired jewelry worn by hairless, sun blotched men at hippie drum circles
- Black and white infomercial footage // The phony actors unable to operate perfectly easy-to-use appliances– I can’t…Ahhh! This one button blender is just way too complicated! HELLLP! I need an alternative!
- Cluster bombs
- The pompous accent of the Toucan from Fruity Loops Cereal
- Who were waiting on to invent the electronic drum set for the Car
- Bad prehistoric drawings
- Stories about kids taking care of their dying parents
- the French
- Super Soakers, the numbered increment system used to differentiate sizes, and how unnecessarily advanced they became when I turned 14
- Various type of jellies
- The semen/seamen homonym
- The Mighty Ducks Trilogy
- Guys named Hank, Harry, Heath, Henry (anything with an H, really)
christ it’s 1:18 already? been up writing, working on the ad school app, flirting with creative directors and such; my mom has a migraine. and a sinus infection. the brothers and I have offered to get her green many a time, but she’s persistently resistant. so i drew a bath and pressed her eyebrows to relieve the pressure. She says it’s working. I say more drugs. Pharma or medicinal.
God, decisions decisions. I feel my creative juices to be running lower than ever have before. Which is strange, because I haven’t been writing this consistently, or working on being creative as much as I have in recent weeks. What do I need? to explore, travel, see more. I’m feeling India. It’s feeling me. it calls me, while I’m sleeping. naked. under the covers. wearing nothing but my leg hair.
I’m really excited for the food.
I am in somewhat of a crux though…If work doesn’t pan out, I’m doing these applications then getting the hell out of this country for a while. Till school starts. Hopefully. And if that doesn’t work out as I’ve planned, then, so be it. I’m tired of all this planning.
On the lady front…Things are good, complicated complicated complicated. I wish I had experience in this whole relationship thing..Or at least more practice. I question whether I’m doing things right. Where the fuck is the manual? Nowhere. If you could win a rabbit, rabbit or habit, rabbit or whales. it’s funny. i’ve made my fair share of mistakes in past relationships. Did I learn from them? Am I doomed to repeat them like a bad re-run of Who’s The Boss? Me: filled with hope that my intentions are coming through loud and clear on the relationship radar. that and a fair understanding that I’m not perfect, I need a fair amount of training and being told what to do (which, let’s face it, is hard for a semi-control freak like myself), and patience, patience, patience. I don’t get things right the first time, but try to repeat my mistakes. before they’re too late.
confused. I need the forest. and space cookies.
santa barbara the city the city of everything normalcy familiarity wordness to flagstaff the hippie heat of the farmers market crushed blackberry and sun dried tomato cheese please ‘thanks for the vegetables!’ so we can eat lunch. to sante fe alberqurque we’re stepping in this bus. oh the bus, moishe’s mobile compressed trapped heat sleeping in contorted and distorted shapes the bodies of these determined fish in a fishbowl under inspection by the 8 mm makeshift breakfasts and mobile blogging avocados the where to goes on this, this endless road of nothingness and green pasture, god’s heartland and america’s armpit. here we go now, here we go now, in oklahoma city, dead center, the new eco beacon for the townsfolk. sweat steam barometric aromatechtric pressure rising, rising, rising—
today i awoke at 12:10. poetically pathetic, the repercussions of slumbers neglect. why is that your consumer spending tendencies rise dramatically at times when you’re not working? shouldn’t that be the opposite? more money in the bank, more in your pocket. there must be some unspoken social behavior i’m not seeing. in my case i bought a bike. a 21″ Specialized RockHopper with disc brakes, what I like to call ‘testicle saving shorts’ a jersey with the bike store’s logo (he said it was the cheapest, best option) and even a helmet (i made do with the normal size…my enlarged cranium proved not a hindrance to
my efforts to walk out of the store having spent less than 800 quid. that i managed. and the color? Firetruck Red in pride of, of course, firetrucks and firemen [and firewomen?] everywhere.
been reading Geoff Dye. He’s like david sedaris on drugs. travels to different places, does drugs at said places, meets people who like to do drugs, goes to drug festivals. it’s a classy book and highly recommended to those 10th grade teachers still undecided about their summer reading lists. it has a little bit of kerouac too, more unpretentious. he goes to new orleans and makes a friend who committed treason in the cold war, selling secrets to the reds over the border in berlin. and then they go driving. so simple, like plain cheesecake. you don’t need to add processed blueberries to make it good. you hear me baskin? what about you robbins?
grad program found! potentials at least. the MEM.
keeping up with the tai chi. planted an herb garden that’s ready to use. next come the vegetables. growing sage and rue in a torn apart toaster. it’s rad. i miss the farm at lotan though, to be honest.
what does it take to re-stabilize? reenter that familiar, fleeting space you were in, this lifetime or the previous one? im working on it, i’m working on it.
my hands are peeling. i dont really get it. i dont think its a fungus or anything. stress maybe? could anyone wikipedia this and tell me what they discoveR? its the fingers actually. my fingers are peeling, on both sides. and that cant be attractive, especially when the eskimo is COURTING A LADY. she is winning his heart and the prospects look quite nice, quite lovely, that he is winning hers as well. i miss her already.
im travelling to bonnaroo, that super hippie festival of love and light, in a bus named the moishe mobile. short green bus, runs on veggie oil, solar panels to keep us flying. we’re filming a doc, doing workshops, and driving through the south. have i ever mentioned that ive been to 4 continents but never driven past las vegas? i dont think ive ever even been between vegas and manhattan. what gives? a real crying shame, i agree. sonow i get to see what real america is like…maybe ill visit flint and make a film about it.
the site, the project, the moishe mobile.
i love you all. i love life. love is everything. love is all that matters. be good.
tonight is lag b’omer in israel. 
shimon bar yochai, famous kabbalist rabbi dies on this day hundreds of years ago, so all of israel’s youth gather and light massive pyres all over the city – chemically traeted and stained wood, plywood, shipping crates leaned against each other smoke pillowing throughout the sky its nice and bright but i’m suffocating, my mind choking in its own head rush of a bonfire, burning since thursday when i had to say goodbye yet again to the familiar…
the desert, the stillness, the air, the sand, the emptiness and fullness of it all, the simplicity of everything – whatever residual love of the arava valley desert i’ve been so faithfully cultivating in my heart has begun to decay at shocking uncontrollable speed. tonight i stood amidst a mass of carnivores and barbecues, surrounded by apartment buildings so tightly spaced together the moon was hiding. i was out in a park and yet claustrophobic, my only solace found in the advice of a friend, who said that ’simplicity is within, not out.’ i took a few more breaths of toxicity and left.
leaving lotan, leaving israel, the return to america, the orange walls of flame i saw tonight have reached up to chest level – i’m exhausted and running on auxiliaries right now – we’ve the swallowed stage everybody. its amazing how easy it is to get plugged back into the matrix, isn’t it? life was so simple, so slow, so nice just 72 hours ago. affirmations were set, goals were made, and now like passing tel-aviv traffic on friday afternoons the priorities have shifted in space, alarmingly not as lucid as they once had seemed. and why? just when direction was being set and realized, does the prospect of an environmental graduate program frighten me? i researched the school (u of michigan) for a few happy minutes later but had to close the window. my focus has to be on leaving this place, processing what i already left, and figuring what to keep and take with me, and what i must leave behind.
it really is a hard space to be in, as i’m sure you know by now. being between countries, awaiting flights to transatlantic destinations feels like your heart mind and digestive tract is being ripped apart. like y2k you just want the bullshit to be over with already. tomorrow more fun goodbyes, some serious meditation and no meat. i really want my strength back.
‘So what did you do there?’
They’ll ask me as we’re driving through traffic in this prison of concrete
SUVs the new tanks on the street, go for out for lunch with the parents spend 12,000 gallons for one pound of meat.
No more kebabs, hamburgers, or shishlik.
I’m a stranger, in a foreign land, find it difficult to relate, much easier to discriminate.
Just after 10 weeks born again a man anew the dirt sieved away from Kaplan and his crew. And I’m fearing that I’m about to forget everything I knew, disappear like organic matter from the pages burning away through compost stages and slave wages because not everyone has the magic touch so Mike grab your chooparim and please pack up. And no, you don’t have to bring the kids this time.
What a hussle, this struggle. I’m just one, one of many enlightened with the ethic, to save Her before we wreck it. An army of soldiers with pitchforks and shovels, take some seeds on your way out for all your needs and troubles. Listen to the word and spread it. Grow your own food and if you can’t go biodiesel then ya better to go unleaded.
Permaculture. Is what I’ll tell ‘em I discovered. To my mom my neighbor even my younger brother. But how can you explain a vision, a perspective, and whole new philosophy. cause I’m thinking: ‘Shit. I’m on stage. Is everyone laughing at me?’ Worms bins and bloody shins..gives me head spins. So little I know, just the tip of the iceberg, no genius at work, writing all these words. So has it all been a waste? This taste – a quick short breath of fresh air. What do I leave with, but books and smiles and compost piles, could be here longer I think I’ll stay here for a while.
I need more coats! More mud coats ’cause I don’t have enough my sand scorched skin just not quite rough. But I’m leaving now, on a jet-train with seeds in my pocket, I’m ready to rock it and grow me some rocket put me in the greenhouse take the keys and lock it.
Answer. To question number two, to Mike Kaplan and the GA crew.
Listen up because this is what it’s all about: When the seed turns to flower, the flower to tree what do you get but self sufficiency? So that’s it Bill, that’s permaculture. To me. Recreate yourself, live like a tree, keep ya head up, and listen to the beat.
whatya said