24 February 2010

Manitoban Gold Skeleton!!

Whoa, this story even outshines Captain Goldstars insane ravings from the southern continent. What the heck! I didnt even know what Skeleton was before this happened! And even after reading the articles I still dont wuite understand! Canada sure is sucking at the Olympics but Manitoba rules! This guy is great too because whenever you read about him it talks about what a rowdy he is. Go Team Toba!! We should invite him to the blog.

Homegrown athlete Jon Montgomery has made his hometown of Russell, Manitoba very proud after winning gold in men’s skeleton. The 31-year-old used-car salesman and auctioneer took the competition Friday night. Montgomery was the favourite sliding into this event at the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games. Analysts predicted he would walk away with some hardware, and he lived up to the expectations. His win down the icy sliding track at the Whistler Sliding Centre moves Canada’s medal count up to 8.

and it gets better!

Then he swaggered into the village, swilling beer straight from the pitcher to spontaneous off-key renditions of "O Canada.""You can't not live in the moment," said Montgomery. "You know it's not going to happen again. That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that will be the pinnacle, I'm sure, of my sporting career because I'll never have another opportunity to compete in the Olympics at home in front of Canadians. That was the be-all and end-all for me." At an evening medals ceremony, Montgomery did his now-trademark standing leap onto the podium, then belted out "O Canada" with abandon, having doffed his red-and-white tuque. Hundreds of Canadians flags waved, and the crowd roared in appreciation.
After the ceremony, Montgomery said the gold medal felt "wicked" in his hand. "It's cold, it's hard, it's heavy. It's cold, it's hard, it's heavy. I'll take it."
Asked about "O Canada," he said he'd sung it a few times Saturday.
"It never gets old. That's a song you can sing all day."
The medals plaza, with a capacity of about 5,000, was still a quarter empty due to security lineups when Montgomery received his medal.
During a later interview with CTV, a fan tossed Montgomery a mickey of rye, which he stuck in his back pocket.After the Latvian front-runner slowed imperceptibly on the evening's final run to give Canada the eye-lash margin of victory, Montgomery began a fist-pumping, podium-jumping, beer-drinking cavalcade of celebration that was almost as memorable as his race. And he wasn't shy about sharing the moment with a national television audience.
When asked when he'd last had a beer before his jubilant tour of Whistler, Montgomery paused, grinning, as a nervously giggling public relations official said "Don't answer that. Next!"
Not to be deterred, Montgomery fessed up.
"I don't subscribe necessarily to all the, you know, things that typical athletes perhaps do. For me, a pint now and then is always a good thing."


I knew I would love bolivia. We rode on the bus for a long time through various desert wastelands. Stopping at truck stops along the way for fried fish. Deserts that meet the ocean are weird. Then we got to this town called Puno that s next to lake titicaca. Its really high up around here so after you re done climbing a flight of stairs you re pretty pooped and have to lie down for a bit. Constantly chewing coca leaves like cud certainly releives the body weaknes and tastes great too. Also I think it makes you more funny! So we got a room because we arrived in town really late at night. Curling up to bed in a cold room sweet. I find sleeping in the cold easy and comfortable maybe from treeplanting. Anyways, I awake into this ultra real dream about arriving at a masive hotel with talking monkeys and glow in the dark ceilings. I notice something is odd and think to myself, wait a second, this must be a dream, either that or Ive been drugged! But then I realize I am dreaming and so I wake up. Turning to my travelling companion I ask, are you ok. We both get up and Im walking around the room but things still seem really strange so I ask, Whats going on, Have we been drugged. And my lovely travelling companion says {No its just the new tvs that they ve put inside our heads. This freaks me out and then I realize Im still dreaming! So I wake up again and my travelling companion awakes too and we were having the same dream. Truly, I dont beleive Ive ever had such a strange experience. I was sure that If I went back to sleep I would reenter that state but the rest of the night went dreamless. What does that mean. So next day we hopped on the bus to Bolivia. Boarder crossing was peice of cake and then around the corner we arrived in Cocacobana. This is where you get the boat to The Island of the Sun. Unlike most south american countries, Bolivia is mostly indigenous. We happened to arrive on the day of a crazy festival! So all these ladies dresed like in the picture are all dancing around spinning their partners and getting plastered! Theres five full brass bands going on at once parading around the square with all these crazy ladies spinning around and falling all over the place with these crazy little hats on! As it turns out, they wear those costumes because of a decree placed on them by the king of spain. I guess before that they were dressed in feathers and stuff like the Incas. The Island of the Sun is where the Incas say their original founders were depósited by the sun god Viracocha. Viracocha is also the name of the god worshipped by an earlier culture called the tiahuanaco. The Tihuanaco were contemporary with the Egyptians like 1000 years before Jesus. They moved masive blocks of stone to build their palaces and nobody knows how they did it. Ive read some places that say that the Viracochas were actually vikings! They say the vikings came here long before Cristopher Columbus and settled on the Island of the Sun and founded the civilization. The Viracochas are described as white dudes with beards. I find that story about the vikings really funny and from now on Im going to beleive it. Just imagining my viking anscestors journeying all the way here to the amazon jungle and instead of pillaging and destroying like those bastard gold hungry spaniards they all dressed in white robes and founded an enlightened society. I could see why they would stop here. It is an earthly paradise. Imagine Banff without winter. The lake is stocked with fish, the air is thin and clear, not to hot, not too cold, not too dry, not too wet. Just perfect. So we decieded to head over to check out the capital city LaPaz. La Paz is a grungy crowded place. We stayed in a neat hostal in the witches market district. All the indiginous ladies in their funny outfits really do look like witches and I guess they really are. In the market theres all these shops selling magic potions and soaps and insence and llama fetuses are hanging everywhere and the witch is sitting their grinning and inviting you in chewing her coca leaves. One witch even spotted the massive hole in my crotch and sewed it up at no charge. She reminded me of my grandma and even told me to have a shower like my grandma always did. I guess you can never be clean enough for grandmas or witches! Here in Bolivia everything is about a quarter or les of the cost than back home so we blew the last of our cash on sweaters and trinkets and bolivian cigarettes for the boys back home. Bolivia is neat because theyre colors are the same as the rasta colors red green and yellow. Also che was finnally cuty down here and he s bigger than jesus. I love it. This is my home! Now we re back in Cocacabana getting ready for the final chapter on the Island of the Sun. All the songs are basically done and Ill be praying for the incan gods to imbue them with mojo so that they enterain you when you hear them. Oh ya, and I bought this ridiculous white outfit to wear when I play the songs. Its all quite ridiculous and strange and wonderfull.



Fusing painting and filmmaking, Jacco Olivier continually reworks his canvases, photographing each iteration and brushstroke, and finally combining the various stages with their liquid color into films.
Olivier's new films unravel and reveal themselves in a slower manner, offering a space for contemplation as they spool over the course of several minutes. Subjects are exposed with a sharper focus, while action remains at a minimum. In Bath, Olivier steadies his gaze upon a solitary nude figure, who dries her body off with a towel. Olivier borrows the bather, as a classic and oft-painted subject of Degas, Renoir, Cézanne and Matisse, deconstructing the figure to her most elemental components against a shifting azure background, devoid of any outside references.

22 February 2010

Graffiti Gallery show

Ok, so, listen up people. I somehow stumbled into organizing an exhibit at Graffiti Gallery that is opening in EXACTLY ONE MONTH! Thursday, March 18.

The original idea was a show of word-art, text, language, bi-and-tri-lingualism, etc, but the logistics of that will require much more time to organize. It will still happen, but probably in late fall.

So... I think a Label/Alfa exhibit might be in order. A consideration of those two projects, how they brought a community of diverse artists and strangers together, what kind of work they generated, how they influenced us, etc.

Now that both the Label and Alfa can be considered "finished", in that they're no longer active per se, it might be a good time to start using some of that massive volume of work we generated for our mutual (material) benefit-- not financially, necessarily, but just in terms of promoting a big, important body of work.

If you're reading this, you're part of that community, and I'd like you in the show.

I'm not super concerned about having brand new work, or even necessarily about themes beyond some kind of idea of cross-pollenation, i.e. here's work i created for the XXX exhibit in October '06 which then led to this body of work by me, which then led me to blah blah blah...

This is't going to be a big giant exhibit, in that i don't imagine i'll do much to market it or try to get much media coverage or whatever. That will come eventually. Nor do I intend for it to be a definitive kind of thing that calls us a group (a la 2-6) or that tries to show some specific cohesive thread that runs through all our work. For me, it's just sort of a first attempt at us all exhibiting publicly together again, at re-learning the mechanics of organizing an art show, and at reminding ourselves and the world of, uh, i dunno. Something. That we're awesome, I guess.

Feedback? Title?



an excert from 'blind contour drawings' by Joe Blades

pencils poke through my hands
clenched in my fists i think of comic book
advertisements for magic machines with nibs
and pencils at the ends of their arms
that can reduce or enlarge anything
by tracing simply originals adjusting
that is all I hope to be what we all might be
i hang myself on a pencil and create this
blind contour drawing - what is felt
of what is seen transcribed without
watching the transcription onto vellum
or parchment onto sanatorium walls
with medium of the body
dreaming of drawing in beach sand with
a stick watching the waves roll in
and carry the message out to sea
the beach streaked with wet salty
sand where waters flow and run

Family photos, Ethiopia version

This is my mom strolling with a few enlightened donkeys yesterday morning in Addis Abbaba, Ethiopia, where her and my dad live/work these days.

don't ask me

18 February 2010

Is it true?

Is Gordon Lightfoot, Canadian icon of heartbreak and hard-living songs of the road, really dead? The CanWest chain posted the story, then pulled it, then posted it again.

If so, then ribbon of darkness over me.

17 February 2010


For Jose Ortega y Gasset, there was really only one ontology. There was really only one reality, or at least one that matters to us. The true being with which all struggle is life and death, me and my environment. The quality of my life, and the quality of my death. And these, to some extent, maybe even to a large extent, are determined by powers outside of any single one of us. This, to me, is the fundamental meaning of the social. CRQ

15 February 2010


Hey look at me! Time for the bi-weekly captn goldstar south american recapitulation. Here goes. From the volcano hotspring town of Banos we scooted down to Montanita on the west coast of Ecuador. Holy dinah it was like walking into the rasta-pirate surfer old west. Found a super sketchy lodge at the end of the beach to set up the tent. Just in time for a surfng competition full moon party. Oh wait, I already told you about that! Moved from there to Vilcabamba where I told you about the books I read. Vilcabamba is this weird place where everyone you talk to is mentioning the alien portals opening up around the world and they´ve all been to burning man. I found a bunch more san pedro cactus to cook up and started it cooking on the stove. When I went to check it it was gone! I thought one of the long hair grey beard hippies stole it but found out it was the owner of our lodge. He told me that we would talk about it in the morning. I thought I was going to get in trouble but in the morning he gave the pot back to me and told me a path I needed to go. I went there up a mountain where a weird hermit was living. I sat with him while we cooked the sanpedro at an open fire. He told me more about space aliens and how our planet is part of some galactic federation and is known as Urantia. I looked up that word on the internet and some pretty weird stuff came up. I also met up and formed a mini tribe with a bunch of peeps from Guatamala. By amazing synchronicity they know personally the witch in Lago Atitlan I visited 5 years ago and who rebirthed me, giving me a magic bean and telling me much of my past lives. We travelled with the guatamalans who speak great spanish and are great at making deals. We all journeyed across the boarder back into peru to the ruins of Keulap. We rode and slept in the back of a rice truck the whole way! At Keulap we drank the san pedro and pondered the mysteries of the incas and the CHachapoyas people who built Keulap an enormous castle at the top of a mountain. Chachapoyas means Strong People who live in the Clowds. Why did all these people seem to base so much of their culture on the movement of the stars and planets. I think thats a very important question. Why dont we think that the placement of the heavenly bodies has direct influence on the happenings on our planet when all other ancient cultures made it the primar cause. This is what we pondered. We slept in our tents at the base of the ruins, played with the local kids there. Ate some potatoes, they have like 30 types of potatoes here. Yum.
Now back in Lima. Im trying to buy a guitar and small battery powered amp. Apparently the best place to go is in the black market in the seediest part of town. Whenever someone tells me about it they mention how dangerous it is. Neat, I wonder what kinds of instruments they have! The plan is to head to Lake Titicaca and set up the tent for a few weeks and just play the guitar in that sacred place. Really practice and get really good for when I come back. Bolivia is supposed to be like the south american tibet, and titicaca is supposed to be really sacred. Its super high altitude like a massive puddle at the top of the world. Apparenly it connects to an underwater portal to the land of the subteranean water ufos. Or at least that what Ive been told. Ive also been told there´s some kind of ultradimensional brotherhood who have set up shop there and are taking new recruits. Kind of like a hermetic learning school that transends time and space like the Shriners on acid. Ive written a whole slew of tunes about manitoba heroes and villains that I think is really going to fly. One of the songs is about the Winnipeg jets. Kind of like a war song against american imperialism generating national and regional pride. Hitting a sore spot that many thousands of peggers still feel in their hearts. Mostly its a marketing technique and Im going to make it a real tear jerker so that when die hard jets fans hear it they get all teary eyed and then angry enough to break all the windows at the starbucks in rage chanting SAVE OUR JETS SAVE OUR JETS
Im going to go to that spot at titicaca where the original inca came down from space and walk through the portal and really make these songs good. Especially this year being both the year of the Tiger and the year of Manitoba cultural capitol.
party on wayne


Said I couldn't be satisfied
because of how I am
Said I couldn't live a life
fit for a man

They said that I was special
That I was special

14 February 2010

Our awesome friends Chic Gamine! Chanter plus vite, plus haut et plus fort!

Here's an awesome photo that runs with an announcement of the Saturday night show in Vancouver by our pals Chic Gamine. This appears on the Radio Canada blog, along with video from their recording sessions in Montréal, and is linked from a prominent box on Radio Canada's main page! Hourrah! Way to go ladies and Sacha!


Mon cher Jean...

Dear Jean:
That summer we spent was like a dream.

I remember your face so well, and maybe you do mine, too. (But more than that, I remember the tenderness.)

Please don't come and look for me in New York.

And don't forget to eat well, and to clip your toenails.


Isabelle, I Hate You (Isabelle, J'te déteste)

She told you she'd bee there right at noon
by the fountain in carré st. louis
you get there, on time as always,
but can't find her, you're alone like a rat
but it's nothing!, no!, it's nothing!, i'll just go phone her!
it's nothing!, it's nothing!, she just forgot!
but at that moment, isabelle, you were going to the cabin,
you, and your laughter,
off with all your boyfriends and all your girlfriends

it's not easy, isabelle, to be let go
there's nothing to laugh about when you left

that slut!, oh, that cow! why didn't she say anything?
that slut! oh man that cow!, she treats me like a dog!

but your heart is too tender
and so you prefer to wait
in the café across the street
like a spy, like a fraud.

it's not easy, isabelle, to be let go
there's nothing to laugh about when you left.
isabelle, my l'il bee i still love you tell me you're sleeping
my little wonder, tell me love isn't dead
isabelle, isabelle, answer me and talk to me,
i didn't know, i didn't want this,
and after all of it i'm lost for words,

but she doesn't say anything anymore, for real,
both now and forever, love is a dirty business,
yeah love is a dirty business.

12 February 2010

Jean Leloup-- Isabelle (J'te déteste)

So... compare this Jean LeLoup video to the one I posted a while back-- that one was a weird road trip through the underworld, with all those un-dead people in the car. Here, it's more of a French new wave cinema road trip, through heartbreak. Over a love affair with, um, a girl? A woman? Maybe?

Anyway, the song is "Isabelle, Je t'deteste"-- i.e. Isabelle, I hate you.

The opening dialogue has him (or an actor) showing us a photo, telling us how love is dumb, the people in the photo are dumb, and romantic pictures are dumb. He is tearing the picture up when the shopkeeper comes out.

Shopkeeper: Hey, Jean, what're you doing destroying a nice picture like that?

Jean: Hey, listen man, firstly, I didn't ask for your dialogue or opinion. Two, mind your own business. Thirdly, I don't have the time to talk to you. Fourth, I don't have a heart anymore

Shopkeeper: Hey, woah, woah, Mr. Twit. Five: stop yr theatrics. Six: damnit there's nothing to do-- Love is stronger than the earth. Seven: you might be right there, but if you don't have a heart, I'll give you a heart-- here, ok? ok? Look. Whaddya think?

Jean (laughing, relieved):
Hey, yeah, yeah, for sure, yeah man!

Good luck!

Yah, yeah, ciao, ciao!


Jean (running away): YEAH! Ha ha! LOVE'S NOT DEAD!

Shopkeeper, to camera: EIGHTHLY... lucky bastard! Lucky bastard!

And then the song begins.

Hugo Torres at the WECC

06 February 2010


Arguably the most important yogi of all time. His grandson is chanting the sutras. This is part one of a series on youtube, and they're all amazing.


Andre and Jim, whose Dada World Data offices used to reside in the Label, are up to really interesting stuff. This is the trailer for their upcoming film/cinematic vision quest. I'm not sure when it's due for release, but I think it's pretty cool.

04 February 2010

Studiotown - working on the harmonies - say it

Dramatic Monologues

The three pieces that follow were all written in late December or early January. They're not really finished, and in fact I may never do much of anything with them beyond this.

They're mostly inspired by Tennyson who, along with a number of other 19th-century poets (Robert Browning being another), practiced the art of "dramatic monologues" in their poetry.

Dramatic monologues were (or are) that idea that poetry could be fictional, written entirely in someone else's voice, that it didn't need to be an autobiographical and introspective exercise.

I feel like I'm a pretty happy person, in that I go through my days fairly upbeat and optimistic and yet, for some reason, a lot of what I write tends to be morbid and sad.

These are the only three dramatic monologues I've written thus far and, weirdly, they're all about tragedy.

Maybe this should be the cause of some self-reflection? :)

#1-- Nelly

i send this last
message out like
jealousy or the
ways you tried to
clean me up i
only wanted to
be your hero i
never wanted to
get old i wanted
someone to love me
no one could love me just
look at me and the
things they
call me--
putain, salope, sale--
only these
lines in the bathroom of
Billy Kun to keep me
going i write things and
feel empty i am
not going
on much

i only wanted to
be your hero and feel
beautiful i
never wanted to
get old i
wanted someone or some
thing any
thing i
wanted you
love me.

#2-- Room 618, Sick Kids

only you and this
bed and i sit here watching
you never move a
muscle your
static sil
houette set
against the leaves outside i
watch and have this
ray gun i
point at you and say
peeeeooowww! peeeeoooow! but i
confess (and i'm
sorry) that they've gotten
sadder these
silly sounds and
attempts at
play all these
months where it's just
work by day
and your
bed by night a macbeth's
troop of ghosts in the
machines that
breathe for you i
point the gun i shake the
rattle and the teddy
bears i
talk to you but you
never answer, how
could you?, still too young for
words you would be just
finally getting them
out now if you
could but these
machines breathe and these
talismans en
chant the air that i shake be
fore your
bed like some
kind of failed

#3-- Homeless guy's Facebook status profile

So and so
wakes up scared,
sleeps too much
or not enough

everything changes
but nothing does
if he
or she
and they don't
have the time or the

winter is coming and it's
grey it's always

all he can do is
think about it
tell it to the traffic
nowhere to go
because the
rivers never freeze
in this town there's
no bridge out
he's trapped here

Goldstar's Booklist

Hi. We were in Montanita for a week in the sun on the coast. More rastas than Ive ever seen in one place. They re all wandering around with dreads and rainbows selling trinkets. I made lots of freinds and played in the bar. For the full moon drank down my sanpedro cactus tea and watched a hardcore reggaeband. (San pedro cactus probably has the worst taste Ive ever tasted but once its in there its probably the best feeling Ive ever had. Tons of psychedlic energy. Really healhty feeling) All these dudes have dreads below their knees. JAH. I truly love rastas above all cultures I think they are somekind of advanced race from outerspace. They kind of remind me of Ben Laden too. Also they remind me of ancient Egyptians. That place was way too fun though so we had to depart. before it was to late.
Now Im in Vilcabamba Ecuador also known as the valley of longevity. Tons of real oldies wandering around. Lush green hills etc. The pace is incredibly slow. Slowness is everywhere. I bought my fresh coffee in a brown paper bag. Picked some lemons from the lemon tree. There's a book store at the top of the hill. Ive been reading so much holy shite! That's one of the reasons I like to travel. Mostly going from place to place exchanging books. There are many interesting books to exchange on the road. Ive decided to recapitulate my reading list of the past few months;
Catch a fire by Timothy White: Too good. A massive tome of a biography of almighty BOB. Goes through his youth to his death, explaing rasta beleifs, jamaican history, the music industry. Bob's life was crazy. I really do beleive he was a holy prophet. His life certainly wasnt easy tho, filled with violence and death and murder. Many people dont think he's perfect because of the way rastas are with women. Id like to ask Bob about that. He certainly did make a lot of love. Ilike when they describe his life at the climax. He had this mansion in Jamacia where him and all his rasta buddies lived. Everyday they would wake up, smoke reefer and go on a big long jog. Then they would wash their dreads in a waterfall and go back to the mansion to eat a big lunch of veggies and fish (proper rastas dont eat any other meat and dont do any drugs other than herb), then they would play soccer, smoke more reefer and play music. Sounds ideal to me. I like that their spirituality puts emphasis on excersice and pleasure.

Black Elk Speaks John G Rehardt; Whoah this knowcked me on my arse. I got a super old copy too from 1960. It tells the story of Black elk this crazy indian in the states. The author heard the story directly from Black Elk. He lived before the white man, through battles, through surrender, then he joined the circus and travelled to England to meet the queen, then he came back and had more battles. The whole thing is freaking tragic. Black elk was a shaman who heard voices and had visions. The Indians were right and our ansestors were wrong. But who is to blame in the clashing of cultures? I wrote a song about this.

The Incas Garcilaso de la vega: This tells the story of all the 12 inca incas and their eventual demise at the hands of those bastards the conquistadors. The author is writing from that time period so its first hand information. He's a half inca half spanish mestizo. The incas sound like a pretty darned advanced society. Like ants. They didnt have writing only knots. The inca went around each generation and conquered all the mini civilizations making this huge empire by the time the spaniards came. He illiminated practices he thought were bad like sex in the bum and human sacrifice. (some human sacrifice was ok) He made everyone worship the sun as the ultimate. He built insane wonderful palaces and gardens and canals and in every city he would have convents filled with beautifull virgens. Things were pretty sweet for him and his family. Then the Spaniards came and they were like demons. They raped everyone and took the whole palce over in the name of Jesus, burned all the sweetest stuff and ripped apart the rest. Stealing all the gold for their king back in Spain. Most of it got sunk going over the ocean though. Man this story pisses me off even more than the black elk one. How can we repair what was lost? Who is to blame in the clashing of culture. The ironic thing is that its all written into a prophecy made by the first inca. Also same as black elk.

The Amazon, Shamans, God and Ayahuasca: Patricio Salvador. Great book with beautiful illustrations done by the author. Its like an instruction guide for taking ayahuasca. Ive already talked a lot about ayahuasca. Its a meditation tool.

Bulfinchs Mythology;the age of chivalry- Hellsya! this is a small book with tiny print. Took me a long time to plow through. Relearned all the glory and anguish of Arthur. Learned about a whole bunch of crazy massive battles in the middle ages. Robin hood. Finnally rapping it all up with The legends of Charlemain which Im not sure if Ive read before. The Charlegmain stories are basically a continuation of the Arthur legends in France. Charlemaign was kind of this idiot french king who was constantly fighting the Saracens. Doesnt talk much about him mostly about his Paladins who were always running around drinking magic potions, falling in love, fighting giants, getting entrapped on enchatned islands by fairies, riding hippogriffs, etc. Its almost impossible to follow since there are so many heroes running here and there doing the craziest things. Orlando is the funniest and best. After spending most of his career searching for this girl who he was in love with through enchanment, he finds out she got married to some nobody. This makes him insane and he goes running around the country naked randomly deafeating every knight in his path and eating raw chicken. Then one of his buddies needs to travel to africa on a Unicorn and slay dragon and meet some archangels who give him Orlando's sense back. Hilarious!

Bit of a Blur alex james: This was a bit of fluff funny since Ive never really heard much of blur. Apparently they were the biggest British band since a long time! This guy lives the utmost rockstar life. Its almost a fairy tail. Very interesting and entertaining read. Makes me want fame and money! but alas. Also I learned that the singer from Blur is also the singer from the band Gorillaz. I really like Gorillaz. Maybe Ill buy some Blur albums. They seem like the real deal.

The Sirius Mystery Robert Temple: Oh oh. This is what Im reading now. What on earth have I walked into. Another massive tome of a book. This guy uses ancient babylonian and egyptian history to prove that aliens visted the planet 5000 years ago. He's super paranoid too the intro to the book talks about all these times the cia has tried to knock him off. My mind is getting blown. He's trying to tell me that certain stars have a harmonic connection to the earth like the way that there are harmonics on the guitar. So certain stars have harmonic connections which allow certain types of energy to flow between them faster than the speed of light. Enough said, I was sitting there staring off into space, one hand on my coffee cup with spittle rolling down my chin before Miriam pinched me. Im not sure how long I was contemplating that.

Visions of the Gods Erik Von Daniken; This guy is famously out there. He's the one who first put forth these alternative interpretations of history involving space aliens and the like. Ive read him a lot and think this line of thinking is on the right track. He's also very charasmatic and interesting speaker. This book is a survey of all the times people have seen visions throughout history. Like when some children in france 500 years ago see the vergen mary and then thousands of people flock there to see the miracle. Its crazy how much this time of thing has happened even right up to modern times. Von Daniken thinks that its aliens. Aliens from another dimension.

Anyways, so thats the books Ive read that I can remember. I also read the bagavadgita and a whole bunch of other hare krishna books a bunch of times when I was with them. There are porbably a few other s that Ive forgotten about and exchanged. I just wanted to write this stuff out so that I can make some connections between things in my mind.

When recording artists come together

This is the original "We are the World" recording released in 1985. It was a star-studded lineup of recording artists joining efforts in the hopes of raising awareness about Africa. I don't know if the song achieved this goal entirely, but I do remember the song from my childhood, so it must have gotten lots of exposure.

Now below is the photoshopped picture of today's celebrities joining forces to a) celebrate 25 years since the original recording and b) raise money and awareness for Haiti. It's such a bad idea. Look at Usher, as if he was even there. as if any of them were all together in the same room. I'm sorry, but I find this project really awkward. This song really didn't have to be redone. Celebrities today are not the recording artists of yesteryear. Does anyone else find this annoying?


03 February 2010

This post has no purpose...

...other than to make C-Dog happy. :) couldn't find an "offical" video, sorry.


You are stronger than you think
The feel is real
But she doesn't mean it
The feel is real

02 February 2010

Köln during Carnival


My lovely partner has left for south of the border for the month. 

M.O: music, home cooking, yoga, in that order.

relentless production......and loneliness.

01 February 2010

Standing at the corner

This was a time when I was hurt, and hurt real bad.
But life is just a series of hellos and goodbyes.
And the meaning of life is not so hard to tell.
Good night my dear, good night.


Ben Laden the ecologist;

Haiti manmade earthquake?

Freindly cheetahs;