Bring what you plan to have for lunch to boil at breakfast time... by lunch its done and the house didnt catch fire... stews, currys, beans all the slow good stuff....
Its good in the summer cause you dont heat up the house.......
Monday, January 31, 2011
Thermos is my life.... almost
My other vice... retained heat cooker delux by thermos.. bring the curry to heat, put pot and all inside the giant thermos... and it cooks quietly via retained heat.. instead of sitting on a stove top for hours..
Bring what you plan to have for lunch to boil at breakfast time... by lunch its done and the house didnt catch fire... stews, currys, beans all the slow good stuff....
Its good in the summer cause you dont heat up the house.......
Bring what you plan to have for lunch to boil at breakfast time... by lunch its done and the house didnt catch fire... stews, currys, beans all the slow good stuff....
Its good in the summer cause you dont heat up the house.......
I stold this... but they stold it so its all good....
I was ranting about grilling flat bread... Which looks like this.... and is actually being done the way I do it
- 1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast
- 1 cup warm water
- 2 teaspoons salt
- 4 1/2 cups bread flour
- 1/4 cup butter, melted
- The recipe called for an egg sugar and milk.. but...I dont use it it just makes a richer type bread and sweet.. maybe feed the yeast a little more.. you have compensate by using less flour....You want a soft pliable dough that kinda spreads out.. like pizza dough
In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Let stand about 10 minutes, until frothy. salt, and enough flour to make a soft dough. Knead for 6 to 8 minutes on a lightly floured surface, or until smooth. Place dough in a well oiled bowl, cover with a damp cloth, and set aside to rise. Let it rise 1 hour, until the dough has doubled in volume.
Punch down dough. Pinch off small handfuls of dough about the size of a golf ball. Roll into balls, and place on a tray. Cover with a towel, and allow to rise until doubled in size, about 30 minutes.
Light one chimney full of charcoal. When all the charcoal is lit and covered with gray ash, pour out and spread coals out evenly over the charcoal grate and oil the grill grate.
At grill side, roll one ball of dough out into a thin circle. Place dough on grill, and cook for 1 to 3 minutes, or until puffy and lightly browned. Brush uncooked side with butter, and turn over. Brush cooked side with butter, and cook until browned, another 1 to 3 minutes. Remove from grill, and continue the process until all the naan has been prepared.
its the end of the world and I have a new mantra...
I'd say it was the hat... but theres no real tellin
Beauty is in the eye of...somebody
She likes this photo.... I guess its clear Im not delicate or refined... regardless of my taste in furniture... life as heavy labor when you have time to sell....sort of changes your shape.... my arms are as big around as a mans neck, not that you can tell... and at the time nothing giggled when I walked hahahahahaa..... I was unloading containers from China by hand for play money and the chance to high grade the new stuff...which is what I was doing having been overcome by furniture lust... but couldnt get the unit into the mothership....so I had to pass.... I settled for rutual vessels and bronze incense burners... which proves I can't be trusted not to buy the magic beans....
And life moves forward..ish
And my beloved lunch.....
I can't be trusted to look at cook books and not go off on some tangent, today was kind of Japanese... I had to find out about ramen shops...Tsukemen an noodle sauces made with soy, ginger, garlic, rice vinegar, honey or whatever...I pimped it out a little.. then as a side added Teppanyaki chicken on a stick... an a potato cause Leigh has been saying potato a lot lately.... the noodles get dunked in the little bowl of mystery sauce or soup....an thats how they work it....
I can't be trusted to look at cook books and not go off on some tangent, today was kind of Japanese... I had to find out about ramen shops...Tsukemen an noodle sauces made with soy, ginger, garlic, rice vinegar, honey or whatever...I pimped it out a little.. then as a side added Teppanyaki chicken on a stick... an a potato cause Leigh has been saying potato a lot lately.... the noodles get dunked in the little bowl of mystery sauce or soup....an thats how they work it....
Salt an whatever.....
This is what a scam looks like... Himalayan salt.... sells at $1 per ounce...$16 per pound.. I pay 50C per pound .... and getting it for 25C per pound or less isnt impossible....
Which is whatever.... someone has to pay for the bottles...
I showed Leigh baby how those bottle prices break down which is fun.......But the scam part is...
Himalayan salt is a marketing term for halite..common rock salt... its mined in Kehwra, the second largest salt mine in the world, which is located in Punjab Pakistan about 300 km from the Himalayas about 160 kilometres from Islamabad .... in the Salt Mountian range......a mountian range of the stuff and its marketed like a rarity.. or its played off as if its dug by hand and packed out with camels....
They have the wheel.. internal combustion engines, earth movers and dump trucks in Pakistan, get real..
There it is... I sell amber I grind for incense.. its the real goods...$3 per gram...its not useable for jewlery so I got it cheeeeeeep like 5C per gram..... because I bought all he had and he couldn't figure how to sell it....
Lots of things are like that.. the funny part is.. my incense is cheaper than the "copal" they sell as real amber...
The salt..I sell for way cheaper than the usual $16-$25 per pound.... its all about thinking about it...
Which is whatever.... someone has to pay for the bottles...
I showed Leigh baby how those bottle prices break down which is fun.......But the scam part is...
Himalayan salt is a marketing term for halite..common rock salt... its mined in Kehwra, the second largest salt mine in the world, which is located in Punjab Pakistan about 300 km from the Himalayas about 160 kilometres from Islamabad .... in the Salt Mountian range......a mountian range of the stuff and its marketed like a rarity.. or its played off as if its dug by hand and packed out with camels....
They have the wheel.. internal combustion engines, earth movers and dump trucks in Pakistan, get real..
There it is... I sell amber I grind for incense.. its the real goods...$3 per gram...its not useable for jewlery so I got it cheeeeeeep like 5C per gram..... because I bought all he had and he couldn't figure how to sell it....
Lots of things are like that.. the funny part is.. my incense is cheaper than the "copal" they sell as real amber...
The salt..I sell for way cheaper than the usual $16-$25 per pound.... its all about thinking about it...
Hahaha.. STFU
The mothership... my truck and pretty cart... everything is paid for... all on wheels.. when I have to boom out I put stuff in secure storage.. and use the truck as my shuttle since it has a stove.. I sleep in a tent or in the truck... depending on how late it is when Im ready to set up for the day...
If I don't like the neighbors..... I move.. no problem.... it was pretty nice doing renn stuff... and squirreling around..
If I don't like the neighbors..... I move.. no problem.... it was pretty nice doing renn stuff... and squirreling around..
Well then....
Its not my set up.... but its close enough to give the gist... I do what I have to.. dig a hole and use iron brackets instead of fire brick...hump the dirt arount the pit to make a wind break and reflect heat... Stone is better.. but whatever... I also have a portable pit/brasier...cause you never know.... the top photo is from some guy out doing his thing in Russia..... Shaslick or what ever they call kababs...
This photo is from a site in India showing how they do Chappati ..which is so close to pita I sort of use them interchangably... point is inside or out.... its allways kind of the same cept I don't build a fire inside... even though I know people who have... I also like cast iron and Dutch oven its not all that stylish..
but my dinner is cool
We dont die..we multiply
The rabbits watch you..... the coyotes watch the rabbits, I watch the coyotes and the Owls watch everybody... the quail are oblivious so are the doves... the spiders eat the flies... the scorpions eat the spiders.... the toads and snakes eat the scorpions.. snakes an lizzards eat each other...I dunno what eats the toads.... road runners eat everything.... except Im still not sure about what eats the toads... the toads like ants... so its basically all an octagon of yin and yang....Then theres the bats.... and the night swallows birds moths bees and flying critters...
One thing goes out of balance and everybody trippin...
One thing goes out of balance and everybody trippin...
Quality time
Its like this.... I cook 3 or more times a day.... so its a priority... I thoeretically sleep 6 hours or more out of 24... so a nice pillow and blanket is a priority.. but not since I have scant regard for personal comfort.. its more like it could be...
You are what you eat..so... I pay attention to what I do...reasonable no?
Coffee is religion.... and to be good it should be a fundamentalist religion.... I like espresso.. latees and all that, but a French press I can use a with a campfire so its my default process... considering lifestyle..
99% of what I do is uber flexable.... where I am isn't relevant.. I can do the same things over a hot plate, a gas stove, a portable burner, charcoal, live coals... some I can cook on a hot engine manifold...or in a solar cooker... its fun to me... I think its a big laugh to cook eggs in a thermos.. I also like retained heat and straw box cookers.... but I tend to like off grid activity... be it harvesting mushrooms or cooking over a camp fire..
Which sort of explains my stick food obsession... its pretty versitile.. you can do it on a comal, grill pan, flat top over electric, gas, charcoal or wood.. even direct over live coals... which I actually like best cause I like the smoke...
You are what you eat..so... I pay attention to what I do...reasonable no?
Coffee is religion.... and to be good it should be a fundamentalist religion.... I like espresso.. latees and all that, but a French press I can use a with a campfire so its my default process... considering lifestyle..
99% of what I do is uber flexable.... where I am isn't relevant.. I can do the same things over a hot plate, a gas stove, a portable burner, charcoal, live coals... some I can cook on a hot engine manifold...or in a solar cooker... its fun to me... I think its a big laugh to cook eggs in a thermos.. I also like retained heat and straw box cookers.... but I tend to like off grid activity... be it harvesting mushrooms or cooking over a camp fire..
Which sort of explains my stick food obsession... its pretty versitile.. you can do it on a comal, grill pan, flat top over electric, gas, charcoal or wood.. even direct over live coals... which I actually like best cause I like the smoke...
Sunrise
Sun comes over the mountain's..
The world goes from black to purple to orange to pink to saffron....
The heat hits your face pulling your skin tight........ and the sun hasn't cleared its hiding place yet...
Miles slide by as the heat builds.... Until it hits like the blast from an open furnace door..
The air its self burning.... nearly unbearable.... nearly...
Your mind says people managed to survive.... your body says "liar"...
You drink water the temperature of blood.... and sweat it out as fast as you swallow...
One mistake, one little error, one minor thing.....and its all in all done....
The heat is relentless..... like the breath of some great beast....whos spine you can just see hidden in the mountians.
Waiting like it has since the world was new.....
Its not heat..or cold, rain or monsoon that changes you... that claims you..
Its knowing.... and not being afraid of silence... watching a car approach for an hour.... a plume of dust getting nearer and nearer as you slowly breathe in the heat...
The world goes from black to purple to orange to pink to saffron....
The heat hits your face pulling your skin tight........ and the sun hasn't cleared its hiding place yet...
Miles slide by as the heat builds.... Until it hits like the blast from an open furnace door..
The air its self burning.... nearly unbearable.... nearly...
Your mind says people managed to survive.... your body says "liar"...
You drink water the temperature of blood.... and sweat it out as fast as you swallow...
One mistake, one little error, one minor thing.....and its all in all done....
The heat is relentless..... like the breath of some great beast....whos spine you can just see hidden in the mountians.
Waiting like it has since the world was new.....
Its not heat..or cold, rain or monsoon that changes you... that claims you..
Its knowing.... and not being afraid of silence... watching a car approach for an hour.... a plume of dust getting nearer and nearer as you slowly breathe in the heat...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Remembering life is like lookin at stew
Different stuff boils up at different times.... sometimes its potato others its beef... maybe a carrot or something you can't identify...
Its about the mix, the sum total of the flava.. does it make your belly warm does it make you strong...
Years tick by....slippin an slidin, rollin an tumblin.. sometimes fast... others like the ebb and flow of the tide.. depending on your inner workings.. you can't judge stew by one element..
Can't judge life like that either.... the boy isnt the man.. the young man isnt the old man...and a son isnt a daddy.. of course I've been a daddy, husband, son... a boy young man an now an old guy... you cant take any of that away... I've been a lot of stuff... good, bad... indifferent... most people have been..
Life is about realizing other people have a mix just the same as you or I do and you only see a little bit so you need to deal accordingly...
Its about the mix, the sum total of the flava.. does it make your belly warm does it make you strong...
Years tick by....slippin an slidin, rollin an tumblin.. sometimes fast... others like the ebb and flow of the tide.. depending on your inner workings.. you can't judge stew by one element..
Can't judge life like that either.... the boy isnt the man.. the young man isnt the old man...and a son isnt a daddy.. of course I've been a daddy, husband, son... a boy young man an now an old guy... you cant take any of that away... I've been a lot of stuff... good, bad... indifferent... most people have been..
Life is about realizing other people have a mix just the same as you or I do and you only see a little bit so you need to deal accordingly...
Adult content means.....
Adult content means.....
Its really not adult content at all.... its just about show me your wee wee.. seriously the most negative judgemental and hypocritical nonsense I've ever put up with has been on an adult site... people looking to sell used panties.. and do what they call tributes which is essentially spanking the monkey over what someone "claims" is their photo...but is posted by some creepy guy whos mad at his exe..
Way lame...... the only thing they wont tolerate is truth or an opposing view
Well.... its not like I can't write whatever... whenever on this engine of joy.... my adult blogs were benign anyway....I took a perverse pleasure in writing recipes and telling G rated stories about real life, of course I may write porn for food network forums and see how that goes......
Or not.. it is kind of lame...
Its really not adult content at all.... its just about show me your wee wee.. seriously the most negative judgemental and hypocritical nonsense I've ever put up with has been on an adult site... people looking to sell used panties.. and do what they call tributes which is essentially spanking the monkey over what someone "claims" is their photo...but is posted by some creepy guy whos mad at his exe..
Way lame...... the only thing they wont tolerate is truth or an opposing view
Well.... its not like I can't write whatever... whenever on this engine of joy.... my adult blogs were benign anyway....I took a perverse pleasure in writing recipes and telling G rated stories about real life, of course I may write porn for food network forums and see how that goes......
Or not.. it is kind of lame...
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Stained glass..
I apprenticed as a stained glass glazier, my learning curve is steep and I pick up high level skills fast..
after 6 months I was being fed work by the studio... attending shows.. dickens fairs and there I learned about making money.. everything I had from several months work sold in one day...
The light came on... I can dress up.. have fun.. do coolness. be that guy who smiles and sells you stuff or 9-5 live for the weekends...
I opted for the former.. Art and craft shows.. kind of snooty.. grannies and soap makers.. or painters and jewelers... it was ok... easy money... I'd wholesale.. do cold calls on gift shops.. regular bidness stuff.... I sub contracted.. built for others and let then sign their names.... design for contractors..sold in galleries.. taught classes... it was ok...
Then... came rennfaires.... till then it was mostly business.. studio life and artistic idiosyncrasies.. all nighters meeting schedules... normal shite..
I did say "then came rennfaies right?"
Sure it was a way to make money...... but it was also lifestyle... and one I liked.. outdoors, different rules and manners.. all depending on you as a spell binder.. being able to tell the tale...
Or call the birds down like my mother would say...
Irish genetics, seemed to fit the life I wanted... it was good.. Then there was a woman and kids that needed stability..i had started to get sick from the lead and tin I was breathing....... Opportunity knocked..I was asking about having custom bronze lamp bases made... like Tiffany did....which introduced me to art bronze foundry.... they had an opening so I spent the next few years learning how to cast bronze... A hustle here a hustle there..I bought and sold art bronze... produced, traded and made it work for me....
Name it..I did it.... I had calls from all over the country... looking to hire a master and I was exactly that
And on it went till one day I started shaking....it was like having the flu for months... bronze fever they called it.... the tin from working the lead in staind glass windows had made me uber sensitive... my habit of not wearing a respirator paid off..
after 6 months I was being fed work by the studio... attending shows.. dickens fairs and there I learned about making money.. everything I had from several months work sold in one day...
The light came on... I can dress up.. have fun.. do coolness. be that guy who smiles and sells you stuff or 9-5 live for the weekends...
I opted for the former.. Art and craft shows.. kind of snooty.. grannies and soap makers.. or painters and jewelers... it was ok... easy money... I'd wholesale.. do cold calls on gift shops.. regular bidness stuff.... I sub contracted.. built for others and let then sign their names.... design for contractors..sold in galleries.. taught classes... it was ok...
Then... came rennfaires.... till then it was mostly business.. studio life and artistic idiosyncrasies.. all nighters meeting schedules... normal shite..
I did say "then came rennfaies right?"
Sure it was a way to make money...... but it was also lifestyle... and one I liked.. outdoors, different rules and manners.. all depending on you as a spell binder.. being able to tell the tale...
Or call the birds down like my mother would say...
Irish genetics, seemed to fit the life I wanted... it was good.. Then there was a woman and kids that needed stability..i had started to get sick from the lead and tin I was breathing....... Opportunity knocked..I was asking about having custom bronze lamp bases made... like Tiffany did....which introduced me to art bronze foundry.... they had an opening so I spent the next few years learning how to cast bronze... A hustle here a hustle there..I bought and sold art bronze... produced, traded and made it work for me....
Name it..I did it.... I had calls from all over the country... looking to hire a master and I was exactly that
And on it went till one day I started shaking....it was like having the flu for months... bronze fever they called it.... the tin from working the lead in staind glass windows had made me uber sensitive... my habit of not wearing a respirator paid off..
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
18..
People get lost... I did... Turning 18 woke me up...
Earlier in life I went into one of those big stone art galleries when I was 12ish...... Weather..cutting school....some gang related duckin and dodgin... ya know?
I would look....... the bronzes mostly and stone sculpture..
I'd stare like a hypnotized goat.. Thinking...how..where..huh and how again..then I started to think.... what if I had a chance to do something.. as cool as that would I, could I.... then came back to my 12ish here and now..which is actually my then at this point... which was just about keepin my blood inside my skin, passing time to avoid police..or not get soaked .......
No work in the winter.... no fruit to pick, nothing.... So I had time on my hands... no one in a real business hires 12 year olds...... even then it was hard to get something going....
Yeas passed.... stuff got done... things got seen... drifting got drifted.... Jobs here and there.. looking for what I wanted to do....Im now 20 going on 40... new friends.. new thinking..Im a student again..
Smart.. I challenged to get admitted to the school and succeeded .... had a perfect job for working in a 4 table resturant, worked nights as a janitor at the school..... had an apartment.. Good stuff..
A piece of office equipment came up missing...... I was blamed.. lost my job with the christian janitorial service.... Lost my seat in the class...was sooooo embarrased.... the equipment was found.. tagged for repair in a store room I didnt have access to.....
But the damage was done....
So Im out looking for a gig..... and passed a stained glass studio.....it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen..
I went in.... I see their working..selling supplies.... Im saying teach me... offering bribes whatever.. I came out with glass and some books... they were full up....
I got it...... learned the basic licks... and sold the first thing I made which as a leaded glass terrarium.... and kept selling...
I saw a notice Help wanted....apprentice... I answered and was hired....
Earlier in life I went into one of those big stone art galleries when I was 12ish...... Weather..cutting school....some gang related duckin and dodgin... ya know?
I would look....... the bronzes mostly and stone sculpture..
I'd stare like a hypnotized goat.. Thinking...how..where..huh and how again..then I started to think.... what if I had a chance to do something.. as cool as that would I, could I.... then came back to my 12ish here and now..which is actually my then at this point... which was just about keepin my blood inside my skin, passing time to avoid police..or not get soaked .......
No work in the winter.... no fruit to pick, nothing.... So I had time on my hands... no one in a real business hires 12 year olds...... even then it was hard to get something going....
Yeas passed.... stuff got done... things got seen... drifting got drifted.... Jobs here and there.. looking for what I wanted to do....Im now 20 going on 40... new friends.. new thinking..Im a student again..
Smart.. I challenged to get admitted to the school and succeeded .... had a perfect job for working in a 4 table resturant, worked nights as a janitor at the school..... had an apartment.. Good stuff..
A piece of office equipment came up missing...... I was blamed.. lost my job with the christian janitorial service.... Lost my seat in the class...was sooooo embarrased.... the equipment was found.. tagged for repair in a store room I didnt have access to.....
But the damage was done....
So Im out looking for a gig..... and passed a stained glass studio.....it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen..
I went in.... I see their working..selling supplies.... Im saying teach me... offering bribes whatever.. I came out with glass and some books... they were full up....
I got it...... learned the basic licks... and sold the first thing I made which as a leaded glass terrarium.... and kept selling...
I saw a notice Help wanted....apprentice... I answered and was hired....
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Interlude...
Im older.. I'd been declared emancipated at 15 maybe 16....it was a while back...
I'd bounced from LA to Sacramento to Phoenix to LA... Memphis, New Orleans and I dunno where.. I wandered all through the south... there were Riots in New Orleans and Baton Rouge half the world was burning... I saw swamps and boyous, it was some scary shit KKK ..... When I was in Mississippi I slept close to a country road and a car load of black folks stopped to look at me... they thought I was dead... seems bodies got dumped there a lot....
Random shit..spanish moss... incomprehensible accents... segregation... and people ignoring it..
Funny.... I could buy beer at 16.... but I was white (still am mostly) so maybe the store keeper couldnt tell my age... I bought 2 cigatettes.. a Jax beer a slice of balogna and two pieces of bread... a black kid about 10 was staring at me all slack jawed.... hed been eyeing the cookies.. and I had 5c left so I asked him if hed like one..my treat... He got his cookie an bolted...
It prolly saved my life.... he went and got his daddy... who walked with me through town...
Baton Rouge was buning.... shooting and rioting every where ... except that little bubble...
I think I was the first white person that kid had ever seen.... I wonder how that worked for him?
The old South wasn't for me... I wasn't raised to hate for no reason....
Time passed..and I got back to LA..
Downtown LA... Skid Row hotels.. the Clark, the Barclay, Alexandria.... The Bradbury....door frames busted and repaired dozens of times from being kicked in... no baths in the rooms.... one toilet, one shower per floor.. The old Greydog terminal around the corner....on 6th street..and you could get killed just because...
I worked in the garment district as a warehouseman.... I was 16 and my girlfriend was in her mid 20's... it was.. rough..screaming, stabbings, shootings, robberys... all you needed to get took off was to not pay attention... Back inna day..it was all about heroin.. junkies nodding off.. pee smellin winos.. and the saddest shit you can think of.. we lived on the stroll...prostitutes doing bidness in alleys...
My girlfriend was scared all the time... I was a baby but, not really.. even then there was that vibe... funny how that as a man of years, Im more approachable.... and a hundered times more dangerous...
That life wasnt for me..... Hotels and concrete, rough an tough 24/7, random...everything desperation, crime and junkies having to face down whatever whenever...and make it stay down... not being able to just walk down the street without getting jammed up by the police.... cause your young white and they don't know what you know....
I gots my papers.. yess suh Im sho nuff 16... but the great state of Arizona says I'm an adult... Yes suh it is binding in L.A..... arrest me or step off... I live here..I work there.. Yeah I know where I am..
Did I axe you for anything? Help? Protection? Have I done a crime? OOOOOhhhh I'll be on my way thank you ever so much.... My arms? Ohh, you think Im a junkie... Have a peep.. that it? We done?
Eventually the woman and I parted company... the pressures of living hard she could handle... but once we started having it good..... she couldnt deal....
And off I went again.....looking.. trying to find where my life needed to be... I was 18..
I'd bounced from LA to Sacramento to Phoenix to LA... Memphis, New Orleans and I dunno where.. I wandered all through the south... there were Riots in New Orleans and Baton Rouge half the world was burning... I saw swamps and boyous, it was some scary shit KKK ..... When I was in Mississippi I slept close to a country road and a car load of black folks stopped to look at me... they thought I was dead... seems bodies got dumped there a lot....
Random shit..spanish moss... incomprehensible accents... segregation... and people ignoring it..
Funny.... I could buy beer at 16.... but I was white (still am mostly) so maybe the store keeper couldnt tell my age... I bought 2 cigatettes.. a Jax beer a slice of balogna and two pieces of bread... a black kid about 10 was staring at me all slack jawed.... hed been eyeing the cookies.. and I had 5c left so I asked him if hed like one..my treat... He got his cookie an bolted...
It prolly saved my life.... he went and got his daddy... who walked with me through town...
Baton Rouge was buning.... shooting and rioting every where ... except that little bubble...
I think I was the first white person that kid had ever seen.... I wonder how that worked for him?
The old South wasn't for me... I wasn't raised to hate for no reason....
Time passed..and I got back to LA..
Downtown LA... Skid Row hotels.. the Clark, the Barclay, Alexandria.... The Bradbury....door frames busted and repaired dozens of times from being kicked in... no baths in the rooms.... one toilet, one shower per floor.. The old Greydog terminal around the corner....on 6th street..and you could get killed just because...
I worked in the garment district as a warehouseman.... I was 16 and my girlfriend was in her mid 20's... it was.. rough..screaming, stabbings, shootings, robberys... all you needed to get took off was to not pay attention... Back inna day..it was all about heroin.. junkies nodding off.. pee smellin winos.. and the saddest shit you can think of.. we lived on the stroll...prostitutes doing bidness in alleys...
My girlfriend was scared all the time... I was a baby but, not really.. even then there was that vibe... funny how that as a man of years, Im more approachable.... and a hundered times more dangerous...
That life wasnt for me..... Hotels and concrete, rough an tough 24/7, random...everything desperation, crime and junkies having to face down whatever whenever...and make it stay down... not being able to just walk down the street without getting jammed up by the police.... cause your young white and they don't know what you know....
I gots my papers.. yess suh Im sho nuff 16... but the great state of Arizona says I'm an adult... Yes suh it is binding in L.A..... arrest me or step off... I live here..I work there.. Yeah I know where I am..
Did I axe you for anything? Help? Protection? Have I done a crime? OOOOOhhhh I'll be on my way thank you ever so much.... My arms? Ohh, you think Im a junkie... Have a peep.. that it? We done?
Eventually the woman and I parted company... the pressures of living hard she could handle... but once we started having it good..... she couldnt deal....
And off I went again.....looking.. trying to find where my life needed to be... I was 18..
Horses cant tell time
Horses can't read a calender...
Dont have birthdays... don't understand... age..
They only know.... today I run, today I jump...
Today I breathe her scent.... today I fight..
There is no complaint of ache... heat, cold, hunger or even pain
There is no long of tooth or grey.. for horses
The day is......and that is all
Only now is now....
Now I run, now I jump...
Dont have birthdays... don't understand... age..
They only know.... today I run, today I jump...
Today I breathe her scent.... today I fight..
There is no complaint of ache... heat, cold, hunger or even pain
There is no long of tooth or grey.. for horses
The day is......and that is all
Only now is now....
Now I run, now I jump...
Summer...
I know I've said this before... nothing has changed about my summers, what I want to say..or how I want to say it...
Words are the emmisarys...of what Im thinking... my ambassadors..
The relay what I see impart what I know...
I want the words to roll across the pages like the leading edge of a monsoon.... I want the reader to taste it, feel the heat an the air getting thick.. then know that moment when you realize..this thing in front of you has worn down mountians gouged out canyons and was here before anything was even alive..and will be here after were all gone...
I want them to be a true representation of the world... summer heat winter cold... and things we can know about the unknowable.... I know I drift and themes recur..so do dreams...
Some dreams are old and call out to be recognised.. especially in the desert..
It comes from years of watching dust devils in the summer and remembering the sight of Dervishes spinning and turning, chanting prays..
Bring those two thoughts together and try to sound normal......
I have places I go... where I can see the valley floor and watch the dust devils moving back and forth according to whatever laws govern them..
Your hear the wind in the chappral whispering and moaning like a chanting dervish as the column passes....
Its a summer thing... 120+ in the shade and nothing moves except the whirlwinds...
And it is what it is..
Theres more.... velvety blackness.... coyotes howling and sobbing.. shreiking.. screaming. yipping madness..
The scent of clean sweat.. the salt scent of the primal seas..... the irony of making that connection as the you drink and rivulets instantly run down your back....
Ahhh.. some days... I watch the shadows as the sun rises long dark fingers of shadow releasing their grip on the world...slowly retreating...The sun clocks throught the sky... time passes and the fingers reaching out again....slowly claiming the day...
The desert floor an ocean that died eaons ago.... extinct volcanos rising up...and my hiding spot far from the habitations of men....
It puts things in perspective to sit and watch... to measure the day by shadows and have a mountian for a sundial..
All of which is deeply ironic to me...
I read a story written in stone.... not on tablets.... but none the less written by the same hand... continents drift.. mountians rise and fall civilizations die and are lost....
What really matters....... what really lasts..
My daughters scent... and Leighs laugh... that I be me only....
How hard is it to stand fast for the blink of an eye and then gone..
What do I care what anyone thinks..and how long will it last....
Its my world...my life and she is my friend
Words are the emmisarys...of what Im thinking... my ambassadors..
The relay what I see impart what I know...
I want the words to roll across the pages like the leading edge of a monsoon.... I want the reader to taste it, feel the heat an the air getting thick.. then know that moment when you realize..this thing in front of you has worn down mountians gouged out canyons and was here before anything was even alive..and will be here after were all gone...
I want them to be a true representation of the world... summer heat winter cold... and things we can know about the unknowable.... I know I drift and themes recur..so do dreams...
Some dreams are old and call out to be recognised.. especially in the desert..
It comes from years of watching dust devils in the summer and remembering the sight of Dervishes spinning and turning, chanting prays..
Bring those two thoughts together and try to sound normal......
I have places I go... where I can see the valley floor and watch the dust devils moving back and forth according to whatever laws govern them..
Your hear the wind in the chappral whispering and moaning like a chanting dervish as the column passes....
Its a summer thing... 120+ in the shade and nothing moves except the whirlwinds...
And it is what it is..
Theres more.... velvety blackness.... coyotes howling and sobbing.. shreiking.. screaming. yipping madness..
The scent of clean sweat.. the salt scent of the primal seas..... the irony of making that connection as the you drink and rivulets instantly run down your back....
Ahhh.. some days... I watch the shadows as the sun rises long dark fingers of shadow releasing their grip on the world...slowly retreating...The sun clocks throught the sky... time passes and the fingers reaching out again....slowly claiming the day...
The desert floor an ocean that died eaons ago.... extinct volcanos rising up...and my hiding spot far from the habitations of men....
It puts things in perspective to sit and watch... to measure the day by shadows and have a mountian for a sundial..
All of which is deeply ironic to me...
I read a story written in stone.... not on tablets.... but none the less written by the same hand... continents drift.. mountians rise and fall civilizations die and are lost....
What really matters....... what really lasts..
My daughters scent... and Leighs laugh... that I be me only....
How hard is it to stand fast for the blink of an eye and then gone..
What do I care what anyone thinks..and how long will it last....
Its my world...my life and she is my friend
More Ivory...
More Ivory.........
Then I started collecting tusks..... because.. I dunno... I just sort of have a passion for it.. among other things..
Then I started collecting tusks..... because.. I dunno... I just sort of have a passion for it.. among other things..
Back further...
My father took me to a rock and gem show.... when I was 3 or 4.. or so I assume... I wasnt in school yet and he left by the time my sister was born... but thats not the story.... and I have a few from then too...:) Learning to read almost before I could speak... chess games with grown men.. being carried home because the snow was too deep for me to walk in...
This one is about the show.... the first time I saw turquoise and met Navajo silversmith....
My father had to hold me up so I could see..... its was then I connected.. minds eye to work.. the act of making something out of raw materials....
I watched him work... my father wanted to move on.. the Smith said "let him stay" I have a stool he can watch from... He left me there...I watched.. I looked.. sand cast and conchas...eyes blue like mine.. Navajo
dark..big.. that I was a boy and unable to see over the counter didn't matter.. it was about the work... and how smiths are made... and the rest of my life silver has been woven in and out of my world.. the blue of turquoise like a robins egg or a clear sky....
I work on a stump... make my own tools...cut my own stamps.. and remember what I saw... its not about money.... its creation.. and making a piece of self.... repeating older stories than mine.. the migration and 4 directions.. the rain and winds.. the sun..
I still think about the Smith and how he took time to show me what he did.... Funny no?
This one is about the show.... the first time I saw turquoise and met Navajo silversmith....
My father had to hold me up so I could see..... its was then I connected.. minds eye to work.. the act of making something out of raw materials....
I watched him work... my father wanted to move on.. the Smith said "let him stay" I have a stool he can watch from... He left me there...I watched.. I looked.. sand cast and conchas...eyes blue like mine.. Navajo
dark..big.. that I was a boy and unable to see over the counter didn't matter.. it was about the work... and how smiths are made... and the rest of my life silver has been woven in and out of my world.. the blue of turquoise like a robins egg or a clear sky....
I work on a stump... make my own tools...cut my own stamps.. and remember what I saw... its not about money.... its creation.. and making a piece of self.... repeating older stories than mine.. the migration and 4 directions.. the rain and winds.. the sun..
I still think about the Smith and how he took time to show me what he did.... Funny no?
its like that
Some days it moves in and out of focus.....
Fuzzy and blurred then sharp and crisp.
The Irish... and memory..
A few thousand years of oral history.. makes the memory strong no?
The blood runs true in horses, dogs and the Irish.
We don't need to see the green that cradled our race....
Its born in us.. we dream dreams of places weve never seen..
A race of peculiar people... tribal and drawn to... what everyone else has forgotten..
We don't forget..we cant..
No more than we can stay in one place and not wonder whats round the bend..
Curious no?
We are who we are.. a race of poets, priests, warriors and shamans... sometimes all one and the same
Peat bogs..rolling hills and heather...
Words spoken.... songs sung... stories told.. rebellion and riot...
Submission to the unseen,.
Craving the presence greater than ourselves...
Water of life....
The liar... the cheat.. the thing that robs us.. the counterfit...
Ah..God we loose our way...trying to find you....
Forgive us...
We'll tell you a story and make you laugh...
We are what we are.... and we remember...
Fuzzy and blurred then sharp and crisp.
The Irish... and memory..
A few thousand years of oral history.. makes the memory strong no?
The blood runs true in horses, dogs and the Irish.
We don't need to see the green that cradled our race....
Its born in us.. we dream dreams of places weve never seen..
A race of peculiar people... tribal and drawn to... what everyone else has forgotten..
We don't forget..we cant..
No more than we can stay in one place and not wonder whats round the bend..
Curious no?
We are who we are.. a race of poets, priests, warriors and shamans... sometimes all one and the same
Peat bogs..rolling hills and heather...
Words spoken.... songs sung... stories told.. rebellion and riot...
Submission to the unseen,.
Craving the presence greater than ourselves...
Water of life....
The liar... the cheat.. the thing that robs us.. the counterfit...
Ah..God we loose our way...trying to find you....
Forgive us...
We'll tell you a story and make you laugh...
We are what we are.... and we remember...
We all have our quirks.,.
Let me help with that.....
I collect Gypsy treasure.. silver, jade. netsuke and small ivory carving .. mostly dragons.. cause I can sell them quick..and they take scant room....
But once in a while I go for things that tell a story like a happy round guy with barrels of.... sake? Rum... Jappo Beer... it doent really matter about the what.. the carver and I both know the guy.. and given a moment we can probably remember being him.... He even has a beard.. gonna carry one barrel an scoot the other till he gets where he gets....and laugh the whole time....
I collect Gypsy treasure.. silver, jade. netsuke and small ivory carving .. mostly dragons.. cause I can sell them quick..and they take scant room....
But once in a while I go for things that tell a story like a happy round guy with barrels of.... sake? Rum... Jappo Beer... it doent really matter about the what.. the carver and I both know the guy.. and given a moment we can probably remember being him.... He even has a beard.. gonna carry one barrel an scoot the other till he gets where he gets....and laugh the whole time....
Monday, January 24, 2011
What if you could..
What if you could have the long slow summer days of a child.... what would you give?
I thought about it... should I make money or live life..
Should I inhabit my world "now" or wait till I had the money to retire then be free to do as I pleased...........
Then I understood the false promise of the hope and dream for something I already had...
Work 20 years... retire and do all those things you wanted to do as a young man.....but now today... give us your irreplaceable time...give us you strength, give us your wit, your drive, your creativity....give us the only thing of value in the world...... time..
I decided.. the days would be long.. the slow glide of my canoe across a lake.. spring days becoming weeks, drifting into summer...summer into fall....
Days swimming.... fishing.. harvesting mushrooms and plants according to season... nothing wasted.. canning and drying...dragging my traps out of the lake, a diet of crawdads and perch every few days a turtle and jokes about hill-billy canned goods.. ...
The hunt, the stalk.. a single shot and a cooling carcass....
Fairy rings and shafts of light through a green canopy
As quiet as a cathedral..
The whir of humming birds darting here and there..
The only sound...
Dust motes floating, hanging in the air
The whirr again.. the bright flash
Eye to eye with the keeper of the holy
No words to say... a hand extended
And the wee thing takes his rest..
Then whirrs back to his business..
The only sound in a fairy world..
I move...silently wool hunters giving no sound
No keys, no change, no lose straps..
The business of the hunter..
No scent except pine forest, wood smoke and gun oil...
I remember...
The line of a deers back standing out in the trees....
As I move closer, closer and closer still..
Putting distance between self and holy place..
No longer trembling before the hidden..
Now the hunter.... closer and closer still
The deer drops his head to pull at the grasses
I step.. nearer each time...
The shot wont miss.... a dozen yards.
A literal stones toss...
I see the eyes slowly shuttering closed..
And fire....
There is no chase, no blood trail..
It was a thing done before the weapon was raised..
The fast sure work of the knife...
And nothing wasted....
Money really doesnt answer my life
And never has.....
The days went on.....
I made the right choice......
My days are long and.. I know what I know....
I thought about it... should I make money or live life..
Should I inhabit my world "now" or wait till I had the money to retire then be free to do as I pleased...........
Then I understood the false promise of the hope and dream for something I already had...
Work 20 years... retire and do all those things you wanted to do as a young man.....but now today... give us your irreplaceable time...give us you strength, give us your wit, your drive, your creativity....give us the only thing of value in the world...... time..
I decided.. the days would be long.. the slow glide of my canoe across a lake.. spring days becoming weeks, drifting into summer...summer into fall....
Days swimming.... fishing.. harvesting mushrooms and plants according to season... nothing wasted.. canning and drying...dragging my traps out of the lake, a diet of crawdads and perch every few days a turtle and jokes about hill-billy canned goods.. ...
The hunt, the stalk.. a single shot and a cooling carcass....
Fairy rings and shafts of light through a green canopy
As quiet as a cathedral..
The whir of humming birds darting here and there..
The only sound...
Dust motes floating, hanging in the air
The whirr again.. the bright flash
Eye to eye with the keeper of the holy
No words to say... a hand extended
And the wee thing takes his rest..
Then whirrs back to his business..
The only sound in a fairy world..
I move...silently wool hunters giving no sound
No keys, no change, no lose straps..
The business of the hunter..
No scent except pine forest, wood smoke and gun oil...
I remember...
The line of a deers back standing out in the trees....
As I move closer, closer and closer still..
Putting distance between self and holy place..
No longer trembling before the hidden..
Now the hunter.... closer and closer still
The deer drops his head to pull at the grasses
I step.. nearer each time...
The shot wont miss.... a dozen yards.
A literal stones toss...
I see the eyes slowly shuttering closed..
And fire....
There is no chase, no blood trail..
It was a thing done before the weapon was raised..
The fast sure work of the knife...
And nothing wasted....
Money really doesnt answer my life
And never has.....
The days went on.....
I made the right choice......
My days are long and.. I know what I know....
Once upon a time..
Years pass but there are things that are never forgotten..... sound, scent, light shadow, taste... the adrenal rush of near death.. the steady quiet of every day... killing heat, and cold so brutal life is measured in minutes....
Then there are the things people think they know..... but don't.. I've been a son.. a husband.. a father an employee a business man an artist and seminary student.. I was trained for command and control.. and have more than 70 certificates of accomplishment awarded by the state and federal Goc....... more that I can remember....Most of my life has been out doors.. and harsh according to some people..
Except..it wasn't harsh to me... heat and cold..wind and rain fair weather and foul.... my life was my choice..
Let me tell you what I remember.. what I saw...
Once upon a time... I lived where water ran... green things grew and life was different than now..
Friends.... work.. tribal lands and customs... not the tv land version the real thing.... Shaman in cowboy boots and broad brim hats..
The pow wows...
Buffalo hide drums... the big ones.. measured in feet not inches.. the ones you never see on tv... the ones that never get shown..
I know the sound of the Buffalo Drum and the rythym I can't forget... the pulse of the people like a heart beat.. the slide shuffle slide of the dance... rise and fall of the old songs the sing song wail of Lakota.. my heart beat matching the drum.... eyes widening ... the tribe Shaman.. coming close.....
Saying "I see you"....."dance with us"....
The Big Drum.... pulsing... a throbbing wall of sound, thats not sound... a thing felt...
Trance.. fatigue slips away.. hunger, time.... everything except the drum....
I see you......Not that I was one of the tribe..... but one of the real people, acceptable......
He knew I saw him as well..... and I remember..
Then there are the things people think they know..... but don't.. I've been a son.. a husband.. a father an employee a business man an artist and seminary student.. I was trained for command and control.. and have more than 70 certificates of accomplishment awarded by the state and federal Goc....... more that I can remember....Most of my life has been out doors.. and harsh according to some people..
Except..it wasn't harsh to me... heat and cold..wind and rain fair weather and foul.... my life was my choice..
Let me tell you what I remember.. what I saw...
Once upon a time... I lived where water ran... green things grew and life was different than now..
Friends.... work.. tribal lands and customs... not the tv land version the real thing.... Shaman in cowboy boots and broad brim hats..
The pow wows...
Buffalo hide drums... the big ones.. measured in feet not inches.. the ones you never see on tv... the ones that never get shown..
I know the sound of the Buffalo Drum and the rythym I can't forget... the pulse of the people like a heart beat.. the slide shuffle slide of the dance... rise and fall of the old songs the sing song wail of Lakota.. my heart beat matching the drum.... eyes widening ... the tribe Shaman.. coming close.....
Saying "I see you"....."dance with us"....
The Big Drum.... pulsing... a throbbing wall of sound, thats not sound... a thing felt...
Trance.. fatigue slips away.. hunger, time.... everything except the drum....
I see you......Not that I was one of the tribe..... but one of the real people, acceptable......
He knew I saw him as well..... and I remember..
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