Tuesday, December 30, 2008

nasha mama - diaspora!

remember things, things that are eternal...
remember things...you forgot those things
nelzja ponjat, nelzja izmerit,
tolko prossat', i tolko vyt'!...

to make it all even more crooked
is impossibility of suicide
you pull the trigger, yet you are still standing...
just somewhere else, but with same dick in your hand.

and dogs were barking, and the guests were parking
and the monkeys clapping and girls were cutting loose
thinking of things, things that are eternal,
when her mother came up to me and said...


i met a crazy dancer,
a party tabashi
she held me by the hair,
i held her by the ass

she was a crazy dancer..

Monday, December 29, 2008

utila and a fire

in this ethereal world we are like dancing creatures of the night..

shadows of things around a fire grow very large and dance even when there is no movement. i marvel at the thought of those who stand alone or the thought of lovers covered in blankets making one shadow dance behind them while they hold each other by the fire. on this beach you can find strange and curious treasures - pieces of fishing line with a brass hook, sea shells, bird feathers, driftwood, stones and animal skeletons. as their shaman i walk alone through the darkness and into the otherworld. my dreams are lucid and under the magic of datura i cast my selves into their conciousness and tell them not what they want to hear. we build our tents and decorate them with treasures brought home by our lovers. we tie branches and flowers together and string bottlecaps to them as if to create a fetish placed by our tents.

on windy nights like these the fire hangs sideways and our shadows flow in waves across the sand. "ua alu atu le afi!" and it becomes too much. sparks and pieces of ember burn holes into the sides of our tents but we are not affraid. we would later thank the gods for the speckles of moonlight they have sent through our tents as they have sent starlight through the holes in our sky. "fai fai pea!"

i look over to you and we say nothing. the silence is thick and we hold our glances without having to speak at all. our time here is short and it has been written for us to sojourn towards other fires and other moons. this surreal land of nighttime binds the days together and the winds carry our stories across the sea.

just stay with me a little longer..

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

the supreme commander

whereas i don't usually write in a personal manner to this degree, events of this christmas eve have left me laying on my floor staring at the ceiling. today was a day worth documenting because telling the story is less of an option than of necessity. This is because my father, who has been suffering for nearly three years with a rare and miserating inner-ear problem that cost him his livlihood, had surgery today. his sense of balance had over time been thrashed due to a total of three holes upon a vital section of his inner-ear that has been proven to cause unbearable dizziness and a critical loss in the sense of his placement of surroundings. frankly though, he has absolutely felt like shit.

it's the day before christmas. my mother and i spent the early morning to the early afternoon waiting for my dad to have his head cut open. the doctor, Dr. Seilesh C. Babu MD, was to go in through the left side of my dad's head and in fact slightly move his brain in order to reach his inner-ear. he then, and successfully, repaired the superior semicircle canal where three holes had grown on this tiny organ which is 1/10 the width of a milimeter. should this fix the problem, which a matter of a few months will tell, then my dad can go back to leading a healthy and happy life.

Dr. Babu came out of the operating room to tell us that everything went extraordinarily well. part of the problem as of all this time was the innability to locate the problem's source and it should be mentioned that it was until extremely recently in history that the inner-ear has been operated on to this extent.

f#@%ing right on..

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

even in Madagascar

instead you run to your little birdfeeder
and stick your beak in the seeds your master laid
where did they came from? who put them in there?
Oh you will never know their name!
But there is a room where bustle and merry
and big ceremony could be going on,
where your true talents along with birthrights
could be dancing
'Cus even in Madagascar... and even in Antarctica!
even in Azerbaijan!
Put two turntables and a film projector in that room
and punk rock 'n' roll most faithfully...
it will occur!

Friday, December 12, 2008

what will become of...?

i'll meet you there... when it's warmer

Monday, December 08, 2008

the world of sights and sounds

she's got this thing with eye contact. she rarely looks people in the eyes, so naturally when she does it makes you feel like something you have said has struck a chord with her. this makes you want to be the one that opens her eyes and show her how beautiful the world is. you want to be the one that climbs trees with her and lay your head on her stomach at night. she dances to the beat of her own drum but i know she's not happy. sometimes people dance even though they aren't happy. and when the world of sights and sounds tied it's pet demons to her life she just closed her eyes and danced.