The Right Column

September again and I know everyone's back to school, etcettera.

So bizzare, I'm watching Counting Cars and there is a 1962 Corvette with a patriotic American theme of red white and blue. Then Danny talks about how GM already had a patriotic tradition with a line of cars themed as 'the Spirit of America.'

When I was 21 I was at a friends and we had a Want Advertiser. I said we could find a 50 dollar car. So I found one. It was a white Impala called The Spirit of America (it was 1983) . We went and bought the car. For my part I got a army jacket that was in the trunk. It fit me perfectly. It was green. I let my friend have 'The Spirit' as we called it. Awesome that they mention that car on Counting Cars this evening.

   12:04 AM
   September 13, 2015

The Bardo of Sean

part 2
note: A story like this makes no sense, 
it's but a dream of what we hope 
it will be for us too. 
So we imagine it for him. 

he snaps out of it.
It's like he's walking.
It's like he's flying.
He's off on some crystal
if you were lying there, strapped down, shot up,
you might be floating, a 
prisoner
victim.

You'll break free.
It was a secret fear.
Why repeat a fear,
describe a fear
make you understand a fear
make you feel the fear?

If a poet does that with real vexing fears
is it for a warning or for a way to say
not to be afraid
of this thing
that you imagine, this
fear
which is nothing to be afraid of
despite what anyone might say.

Come along, come along come along,
shuffle the walk
life death birth living
zombie through the mirror glass
spirits of the damned and crazy dead

The Crazy Dead and their
Michael Keaten hamming it up
on the miniture field of loving, living, dying, trying
too hard, so long, how many nights in fear
I rode that mare
in fear that I'd
not find my way?
What do we know of love
accept what we give away?

how many days in dream
I'll sing his praise
and think his name
and wish
he could be right here 
by my side
but if he were alive
I'd be afraid.

I'd be afraid my dream
could never mean
what I wish it could
if it would
the night is long to strive
what do we know of love
accept what we keep alive?

Maybe there are answers
you can't think of
Maybe there are answers
that you know
if you repeat a trite platitude
what kind of path will you show
to those locked in dream
like corkscreww dark stars
live and die
and seek your gaze
I wish you were still by my side.
If I say his name
do I keep his spirit alive?
If I sing his praise?
And say that Jesus saves?
That at all the raves
there is the holy sage
of joyous love
from above
like the descent of dove
deep in love
and with his smile
all hope, a pile
of awesome
how can we get some?
When he's gone away?
He laid down that day
but he didn't die
his love is still alive.

He hears the end of the ode to him, which he doesn't know it's about him. He wishes he could get across that bridge, the shimmering city, the brownstone in the springtime, eternal blooms line those boulevards in that realm. The town is the same. The people are always different, like the sand in a flowing sand sculpture with a river in it, the

different colored sands
collect and blend
patterns of the day?
Patterns of the waves?
Patter of children.
Laughter of room mate.
Video game glow late in the A.M.
too much river delta play
the sound of a synthesized robotic voice speaking from a head phone.
Guys locked in battle, eternal, stuck inside their chair.

Why can't they just admit it,
maybe they do, they did, 
I love you you love him.

Why can't he just say it?
Maybe they did, they do,
in those silent prayers that the roommate makes.
loving you.

I know his name, I read about him
apprehending thieves in a tony place,
that
lean and limber son of a son of a daughter of a son of a daughter,
everyone always loved him
too much
he's the prettiest boy in the class and
he'll growl at you and grumble
with his 'this is the right way,
grandma' anger.
stand there calmly
always a good boy.
Best at wrestling
loved to play video games.
take him hiking, 
he can shimmy up a thin tree,
a long limber kid this one, all the
way to the top of it and peer out across the mountainside
to see where you are.
Tree starts to bend over in the wrong direction.
If I say that I love you that's kind of letting go.
If I let go do I fall into the abyss?
But super Sean, of the bardo,
isn't going to let a good man die
with his confessions of devotion.
things that might never have been said
stuff that other people don't need to know about
things that make you feel joy later in the week
when you're just sitting there
in your squad car
side street
sleepy place
nothing that is abnormal, so it seemed 
at the time
listening for reports,
not
knowing
about lurkkers
whose faces show up too much in the news
as if showing them all the time
is going to make them not fade away.

But that face of joyous devotion
pulling the tree so that it swings into the mountainside
so his limber roommate can jump back onto the trail
of bardo follow
me up this 
hard mountain
to heaven

And now he's on the other side of that
abyss
when we understand
about it,
forever thing
why it's like that
how they get along
why they care about each other
how it shows up as loathing
because you can't accept the other person's flaws
having too many condoms in your jacket? what
does that tell you 
about a guy
with that gleeful look
in his eye?

That he never got to use them?
That he was quick with it when he needed it?
That your ready for action?
That you love your lover so much that you don't want to spread disease?
That you talk about encounters with a code language that
people who loved him
want to deny
why he had that,
what he was doing with it
don't tell mom
they put it on the Internet
it's there now for ever
for robots of the bardo to read and recollect,
that robot,
the urge to be close
nothing wrong
not here, or ever
love is what it is no excuse to try and make it a moral play
what they do
when they are alone
in the room
video games in the early AM.
head set, head gear,
virtual excursioneering
in a world of crafted war.

   

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I went back to the lake yesterday (Lake Cochituate). This tree has an aura of pastel colored buds, or maybe tiny leaves. I took some images of it and I'll think about posting them. LOL"

inline svg sample 1,inline svg sample 2,inline svg sample 3

Did the Sun ever really go down that night?

or did it just rest in the clouds till day break, carried along the far horizon?

🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 
🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 
🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 
🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 

Music music music music music music!

Here is Brian:

Mr. Brian Wilson, Oct 2014, Modesto, CA

Here is Al:

Mr. Al Jardine, Oct 2014, Modesto, CA

These guys gave a great show!

Living in a marshmellow whirl . . .



selectors

March 11, 2015


clean water, even for enemies.
if you have this attitude, you won't need this attitude.
delete your delusions.

Music Music Music

Music Music Music

Music of
 Christ! 

Dance to the Jam if you want to! 
🌛
    falseness
    is the
    fear
    that drags
    the afternoon into drudge

lifestyle of loving unconditionally

  lifestyle
   of loving
unconditionally

May 3, 2015

Please visit my DEMOS

   Live your life
in constant resurrection!


    Fear the Lord ~ ⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰
 But He's always good to you ~ ; )
     so
 

Praise the Lord while you still have voice in the world!

I went back to Milton and stood at this spot again and felt like I'd been there a lot even though it had been almost 4 years since I had. The mosquitos attacked me. It was a cresent moon, not full like it was the night of the photo here. I thought about Michael Hastings, because I hadn't been there since he passed and I know that he used to live right near there, with a view of probably, even , where I was standing. Cars going by. The next day was the concert at the Fair Grounds.

On Church Street, Burlingtown, VT, many years ago while he was still amoung the living, I am sure (which means maybe it wasn't, but it was him!) that it was MH who I saw, in his suit being all establishment and checking me out checking him out. I am usually hopping around with my night lens 2.8 24mm - 70 mm which has a marvelous quality for the out of focus parts. I realized how important the lens is by just comparing the pictures. Believe me, if you want better pictures get a better lens.

One good reason for the better lens: they are much quick with the focus. A really good lens doesn't need a lot of time for the shot because you collect so much light with it and it allows for a wonderful picture. You can get really good results with inexpensive lens. The pricey lens, however, may give you a result that you did not expect and perpell you to new levels of skill. So go for it. Like allowing you to take pictures of the moon over the Lamoille River Delta and post it as a tribute to Michael Hastings. But you can do that anyway even with out a quality lens.

I've wanted the 50mm 1.2 lens that Cannon produces. It allows in a huge amount of light. It makes 'city at night' pictures very easy to accomplish. It makes taking pictures on the street easy.

all your pretty poems
what do they mean?

I got nothing more