Whenever, Wherever

Last night I drove to Vermont. Vermont is another world, you know as soon as you cross the border that something has shifted.

If you're heading to Jado's birthday party, you'll want to turn left at the General Store. Head up the hill for four miles. Turn right on South Valley road. You'll see some hills and cows. After about a mile, you'll see some balloons tied to a tree. Follow them down another dirt road, named after the brook. Park anywhere you like - on the road, in the field, you can't get much further unless you brought your bike, or some sturdy shoes.

Bring some tasty pot luck item. And a cooler with ice if you want to keep your beverages cold. Every so often they run the generator to fill up the tank, so they can have running water in the kitchen sink. That's cause there's no electricity, but they do have a telephone line. If you want to use your cell, you might get a bar if you drive back to the main road and wave it around in the air. Bathroom's out back, past the firepit.

Last time I went to Jado's birthday party, he was two. Now he's four. He's aging exponentially! It must be all that fresh air. I wonder what it's like to live without all the constant bombardment of mechanical electrical fields.

The thing I'm noticing at this party is how different people's ways are of engaging with friends and strangers. Will parents talk to their kid's friends, or do they start with so many assumptions that there's not much left to talk about after the introductions? Why does my friend's new partner shy away from me? I want to know her, to find out all about her, to drink in her delightful presence, to sense the pleasure of my good friend's newfound love, but she acts like I don't exist. Why does Jado's mom act like she doesn't know me? The last few times I saw her we had a pleasant dinner together, she asked me to call her. Do they think their boyfriends will be jealous? What's that about? This man they love will punish them somehow for opening up to anyone but himself? Maybe it's fear of losing something that they hold more dearly than random friendship. Do they not trust me, or do they not trust themselves? Will I break their hearts in a simple conversation? Will I take them out behind the woodshed and wrestle them down?

Folks in Vermont keep their guitars close at hand. Even though there may not be much to talk about, dad's layin down some real fine Neil Young tracks over coffeehouse coworker's chords. The Israeli couscous is the potluck flava sensation. The Long Trail blueberry wheat beer tastes really good - I'm glad I didn't read the label. The unlabeled 22 oz bottles looked mysteriously alluring: new boyfriend works at the brewery in town, where they make some strange and powerful nectar. Dreadlock friend pulls a bag of Mother herb from his overalls.

I liked the neighbors. Their little cabin is nowhere to be seen. They're substitute teachers, so there's no work this summer. But they live simply. Entertainment is working in the garden or hiking up to the pond to watch the beavers and blue herons. She wasn't afraid to talk to me, she was all sweetness and smiles. He didn't seem jealous at all. They're moving to Montana soon, I'll probably never see them again.

Montana people didn't run for shelter when raindrops fell from the sky. Then a rainbow appeared over Jado's pile of presents. He got a new bike with some very cool spaceship blueish headlights and red tail lights. He also got a sword that does alot more for you than your cell phone when you wave it around in the air - it makes big bubbles.

I'm going' back to my house
But I'm not goin' now
It's too early to be leaving here, somehow
Let me bore you with this story
"How my lover let me down"
While I borrow seeds of sadness
From the ground.

- Neil Young

Could it be?

I think I'm falling in love, with Stella. I met her at a bar in Manhattan - she was smooth and bubbly and exotic. I liked her, but I really wasn't too interested. I thought she was out of reach. My friend Tim, the investment banker, picked up the tab.

Now it's over a year later, it's summertime, people are wearing less and less clothing, and who should I see at the Whole Foods Market, but Stella? We live over two hours north of the big city. Lot's of folks come up here when they feel like unwinding a bit. You can find a cool swimming hole that only you and your friends know about (or maybe some of their friends, and a few people with insiders guides, or the right connections, you know how it goes).

So I brought her home. We fired up the grill. Our house has a regal back porch with a comfy sofa for two. The house was built in the mid-1800's, and back then, it had a main street address, with a long drive leading up to the stone steps. The steps climb a small hill, with 3 terraces, and the porch is at the top. Billy, who used to live here until he moved to an airstream in Utah, said this place is forever lodged in his mind, like some kind of mayan temple. His girlfriend's name is Stella. They used to have my room, and Stella used to have my muffin job. It's a small world.

Well, it turns out that my housemate Rishi likes Stella too. It's alright. She's always liked girls, it's the ignorance and the politics she couldn't handle. So we share.

But Stella loves the big city. She likes to stay up late and party, and we go to bed pretty early up here in the hilltowns. So she comes and goes, but she's always welcome. Now she's here for the weekend. I have to work today, Saturday is the busiest day of the week at the market & deli. But I'm looking forward to this evening. We'll sit on the porch and watch the sun go down behind the hills. At dusk, the bats come along hunting for mosquitos, and when the sky gets too dark to see the bats, the fireflies begin their mating ritual. There are lots of stars in the sky on a clear night, until the moon comes out to shine much brighter than the rest.

By the way, you're welcome to come and visit us too.
We'll save some for you ;-)


stella's website

sometimes I don't speak right

but I still know what i'm talkin about . . .

why can't we be friends?
why can't we be friends?
why can't we be friends?
why can't we be friends?

I need a vacation

Today I was on my feet for over 8 hours, making muffins and scones, soups and salads, coffees and cream cheeses. Why? Because for the first time in over 8 months, somebody's paying me to do something.

I have to think about that last statement. Am I making that up? Well let's see. Lynda gave me gas money for driving her from NYC to NC. Peter gave me gas money for taking them to the airport. I think that's about it. Good thing there's more to life than money.

Like vacation . . .

If you're a romantic dreamer like me, you might dig this newsletter:
TabletHotels

the tingly white glow

Jesus said, "yo, I stand at your door and knock. If anyone let's me in, we're gonna burn some herbs and check out the tingly white glow." rev 3:20

Who translated that book? A committee of old uptight european white men, perhaps? I'm sure they're smart people with lots of language skills - and lots of theological opinions that have been honed through years of study. But what if those centuries of layers of head-speak have taken us further and further away from what really happened back then, and we've built a whole religion around our opinions?

You might be thinking that I was just burning some herb myself. Well I was burning a cigarette, and the smoke blew right into my sleeping neighbor's window. I had a sense that that would happen, but I came up with some good explainations in my head that begged to differ. "I'll hold it away, I'll blow it away, I'll wave it away." I retranslated the book. Sure enough, I heard him rumbling around in there fumbling with the shutters, trying to get his window closed.

I wanted to have my experience of coffee and cigarettes in the garden while typing on my wireless notebook. It always looks so cool when you see people computing in exotic places in the magazine photos. But I probably don't look too serene, because I'm squinting to see the screen. I think I'll just sit back and enjoy the tingly white glow.

reveal

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): There is a proverb from the American culture of the early 21st century that I'd like to run by you, Libra: "Never reveal all you know, confess everything you feel, show how much you care, or give all you have." According to my astrological analysis, this is the worst possible advice you could receive in order to thrive in the coming weeks. In fact, if it were up to me, you'd do just the opposite. I understand if you can't bring yourself to do that, especially if you're an American. Nonetheless, that's what would be good for you. - Rob Brezsny

Thanks Rob. You always manage to speak directly to me, and my housemate, and probably all your 30,000 newsletter subscribers, plus the multitudes who look forward to your weekly column in their favorite paper. Funny how that works.

I'm stalling . . .

So, yesterday I got the call. They offered me the job. I'm going to be baking muffins and warming up the bagels and filling the pumpsters with coffee for our little village. It seems like a noble cause.

It seems like good timing too, because I'll probably start on the day before (or the day after) I run out of money. This is the way Spirit operates in my life. Four+ years after I left my corporate job to seek a more meaningful existence, I'm baking muffins. That said, even though I've been running on fumes financially for a long time now, I'm living well. That's how the Universe operates. We get what we expect, what we envision, what we allow ourselves to receive. I haven't quite figured out how to raise the bar yet, but I'm working on it.

It is only yourself

If you are now feeling distressed by that last post, consider this:
it is not the spoon that bends.

Goodbye cruel world!

For those of you who haven't been paying attention, here's some trippy shit:
Operation Terra

What faith you are

I don't actually write much on my blogs, so this is a bit daunting, like dipping my foot in the water for the first time.

And, who has time for all this blogging? And how many times do I have to use the word "blog"?

Anyway, for me, the question is not what faith do you subscribe to, but what faith "you are". I met someone in town who went to the same college I did, where you had to subscribe to a certain set of christian beliefs and values just to get in. Then if you got caught being bad, you could get kicked out. She told me that she used to go into the new gym that was still under construction, to smoke some sacrament (herb, you know, weed) in the big empty space when no one else was around. She never got caught.

Now Janice is a recovering "belief slut" (her words), and an artist who makes collages of lips and gets involved in community projects.

The nice thing about the "faith you are" is that no one can kick you out but yourself. And I think that we all have to do it to get into this world and join a family and a society.

So, to answer simply, I was a christian, now I'm just exploring reality. For that story, please see my other blogs ;-)

One blog to the next

a long long time ago,
i had another blog . . .

whimsical magic