Filed under: Recipes
I invented this cocktail over the weekend as Ladybug and I laid out to enjoy the delicious and rare Portland sun. In describing it to a friend, she said “Oh it’s kind of like a mojito” only it doesn’t have mint or lime, so no, not at all. This cocktail is called the Giancarlo cuz it tastes Italian and then name sounds like a sexy lover who would make this and bring it out to you while you lounge. Here’s the recipe:
Filed under: Other Worlds
At this point in human history, there is much information out there that is valid, useful and effective. Whether it hides as new age, occult, religion, science, literature, art, math, physical disciplines, whatever it disguises itself as, it is useful information that can change your life. Or leave you feeling dull. It all depends on how you approach it.
The mistake that I find most common is to discover a new way of thinking, a new concept, and think that is IT. That this is the one thing, this is the TRUE story, the REAL way of seeing the world. Most folks stay on the first page of the thing, they refuse to explore deeper and rely simply on this one perspective to fulfill their spirituality.
It was Blondie that taught me that it was okay to talk during sex. And not just talk, but ask specifically for what you wanted. Up til then, I was under that sad deluded naivete that a ‘good’ lover would just know what to do, would just find those right spots. I’m not saying that doesn’t happen, but it’s not the only way it happens. This naivete is born from the notion that sex and love are the same thing. Blondie broke me of that ‘bad’ habit.
We would be lounging around my room, kissing and doing what we do, and he would out of the blue make a request, like I was a DJ on a radio station. At first, I was taken aback, like “I’m not gonna do that” even though I wanted to, but I just didn’t want him to ask me like that. It seemed so unromantic. I should have just known or he could have communicated without words. But Blondie was not like that. He pushed and prodded me to tell him what I wanted, to do what he wanted, to talk, to open up, to share desires. In about a week, I was babbling during sex, asking for this, telling him i liked that, and on and on.
Filed under: Music
I found recently this pretty useful blog called Puddlegum, “an indie music journal.” While perusing through its archives of music news and reviews, I came across two musicians that were intriguing. Both are one-man bands with odd “professional names” and both are pretty young. Which always makes me feel like I’ve been jacking off for ten years instead of being amazingly productive. Which is of couse patently untrue. But still…
Here they are:
We sat in the sweat lodge, hot, wet, covered in mud. Everyone else had left except for me, Blondie, and Balance who sat in the opposite corner, beating a drum. Even though Blondie were filthy, we somehow managed to slip our tongues in each other’s mouths. We rolled around in the mud, almost rolling into the center pit, filled with steaming rocks. At one point, the lodge actually caved in on one side (the gods saying no to erotic sweat lodges, some would later claim).
It was some of that sweet, spine-chilling lovemaking that is rare and when it comes you jump all over it. I probably jumped a little too far. Eventually, Balance left and we stayed a little longer until the mud began to dry up in our creases and corners and things got a little chilly. We slipped out of the lodge and ran into the deserted main house and into the shower. The mud poured off us in sheets, clogging the drain, spilling over onto the floor, making a mess. We stood there and kissed and then pulled apart from each other.
Filed under: Other Worlds
Spiritual Reality
I can mention spirituality to few people; with most, their eyes begin to glaze over after the second syllable. It doesn’t surprise me. This arena has been so overrun with bad religion and narrow-minded charlatans. No wonder most people are skeptical, nay, downright infuriated by the mention of spirituality.
And yet, they inevitably begin to tell me some tale about themselves or someone close to them who has come to a realization, or who has a deep feeling, or who has suddenly turned around and changed their dismal circumstances. A story of a weird coincidence that changed their life, a difficult situation that led to a whole new world, a chance meeting, an inner urging, a fucking awesome dream! But no. No, this is not spiritual. No, of course not. It features no crystals or mad hermits. There are no amazing waves of energy and it doesn’t feel like an acid trip. There was no god or alien or elf present. It was too quiet to be spiritual. And anyway, spirituality is a bunch of hooey….right?
Filed under: Music
I must be feeling video-happy, but this is a great quality video of Joanna Newsom singing ‘Cosmia’ with the band she tours with. I saw them at the Aladdin Theater earlier this year and it was one of the most beautiful concerts I’ve ever been to:
More of this guy’s videos here.
Filed under: Music
I saw this video a while ago, but I’m feeling teary so I thought I’d post it:
Filed under: Other Worlds
Spiritual Imagination is the ability to make tangible and real that which is often considered fantastical, abstract and unreal.
without spiritual imagination, we become convinced of our imperviousness. we become convinced that our way is not only the right way, it is the only way. we become static and closed to change, to new ways of thinking, we reject expansion and evolution outright. we prefer revolution, the safe volleying between right and wrong, the dramatic overthrow of the previous regime in favor of some newer, better, morally superior regime. this is entirely unimaginative. it has happened continuously for thousands of years. and while on a superficial level, we have changed, at a deeper level we are still very much the same. for with each overturn, with each ‘revolution,’ a residue is left behind. This residue is the pain and suffering, the anger and the silence, the fear and horrific death and wounding that occur with a violent overthrow. No matter what societal change may come, a new generation of warmongering, revenge-infested, narrow-minded and yes, irrational killers will come as well. Thus insuring that true, deep evolutionary change is if not thwarted, maintained at remarkably low levels.
Sometimes living out in the mountains would get very lonely. Inevitably, the people you spend your time with would become friends or enemies, but very rarely lovers. You see too much of their undersides too early. Romance is fragile and often shatters under the immediate weight of daily living. There was no room for love.
I often felt like the farmer’s daughter in those stories involving traveling salesmen. With the arrival of any new person, I would rush to my room to put some new clothes, attractive, distinctive, revealing. It was the mountains of New Mexico and you could get away with wearing just about anything. Wrap some old curtains around you, top it off with a dishtowel with a fancy design and a whole lot of tanned skin and you had yourself a look. Or take an old lime-green thermal, rip off the sleeves and collar, pair with a melon colored broom skirt and some flip-flops and you were an oasis of color in the drab landscape.
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