Below are the 18 most recent journal entries recorded in Bill's LiveJournal:

Sunday, August 10th, 2003
10:58 pm	Human Robots People are creatures of habit, and I make no exception for myself, and at times this creates images and sometimes word pictures. There are one of each on my mind. One of the thought/word pictures is Mechanical People carrying out the same behaviors over and over and over. The mindlessly repetitive, almost addictive, thoughts, responses and actions growing like weeds to replace the more creative impulses. The same people doing the same things with the same people, rehashing the same arguments, having the same conversations, telling the same stories... nothing but life as a continuously looped rerun. What brings this to mind is an experience with a housemate. He recently started telling me the same story for what was probably the third time. This gave me serious pause and started my mind working on the idea of people robotocizing (spell check suggested lobotomizing as an alternative spelling and I really couldn't argue!) their lives by repeating old behaviors instead of learning new ones. I looked at his daily life and was struck by the bleak repetitivity of it. Many people do the same thing- living life as a replay of previous experiences. There is even a phrase for it, SSDD (same shit different day). Such living strikes me as unconscious, the life of a sleepwalker reliving the same old dream reruns. Can such a life really be considered a _human_ life? I am not arguing that Robots of Flesh and Waking Sleepwalkers are bereft of human rights. Far from it. Of course their rights are human since they have the potential to behave as beings of free will, but instead I am wondering if such people can truly be said to be living a life that is rightly referred to as human. If the loop of life they recycle so steadily were of transcendent beauty or joy I could _almost_ understand the desire to loop the tape of experience and live an edited life of "the best of" but I have never witnessed a person doing this. The ugliness of it is that many only loop the bad and the looped that isn't bad is usually tasteless, dull and boring. Living these experiences once is more than enough, but to repeat them is to sentence one's self to morbid monotony, a life of eating nothing but boiled newspapers. Again, we all have some traces of Machine in us. It's our first, unthinking, automatic response to a particular situation, our response to aggression, loud noises, dogs, little kids and so forth. Living relationships are one area fertile with examples "Don't use that voice with me" or "If you don't put the cap on the toothpaste... seat down/up... pick up your clothes" ad nauseum. Touch whatever is a particular person's raw nerve and you *know* what the response will be (provided you have witnessed such an event). It's their mechanical response. The proliferation of automatically obeyed/followed first responses is what I envision as the roboticization/mechanization of human life, the replacement of vital blood of complex response with the homogenized response of a petroleum distillate, the synthetic replacing the organic. If X then Y. "Of course I hit him. You heard what he said about my mom. I had to do it." The other picture is from a brilliant comic book "Hothead Paisan, Homicidal Lesbian Terrorist." That being a few three-dimensional beings walking through a world of the two-dimensional. The latter being the dull, flat, predictable Robo-People. Those dominated by their automatic responses. I see the robot in me. My first responses are as predictable as the hour of sunrise, so to keep life interesting I rarely follow my first response. I could be a billiard ball bouncing predictably off the various situations that I roll into, but that just doesn't seem like any damn fun at all. Well, I must run. These thoughts will be returned to (automatic-response mechanism that I am). BTW, the way I am approaching my journal is to sketch and share ideas that flourish in my over-fertilized brain. Over the last year+ I have been very inwardly focused and have been working through many ideas. Rather than do so in complete solitude I have decided to sketch my ideas for any willing eyes to read. This feels quite weird to me but since I am discovering increasing amounts of ambiguity in life I have decide to think "out loud" for a while. Moreover, my first response is to write and refine in silence, so by spilling my brain onto paper as work in progress for all to read I am following the unpredicted path, one that causes a little discomfort but one that is also far more interesting. Current Mood: contemplative Current Music: Memories of mockingbirds in my back yard (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, July 31st, 2003
3:33 pm	Magic (2) I recently watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone for the first time and in exactly the right setting. I was 6 again! He was soooo good and the evil was so bad. He could fly on a broom! Magic was real for a couple of hours and I was _amazed_. Again, in the sense portrayed in the movie, no I do not believe in that kind of magic. Harry's real magic was that he didn't become an angry, bitter little punk, but he was nice. He could lost his joy for life among the many beatings and abuses he received, but he didn't. His experience of joy was undiminished. THAT is magic! Magic is unforeseen, insightful, imaginative, surprising and frequently funny. It is the playful response that lightens the heart. Magic is intellectual solvent that removes the calcification from our brains, bypassing our immediate rejection of some strange, unorthodox idea that just might work. The Brian Setzer Orchestra has a song called "The Man with the Magic Touch." Some people just seem to be in the right place at the right time, to have the right attitude with the right people. They move through problems like they weren't really there in the first place. Buddha was remarkable at dancing over, around, and thought the snares cunning men placed at his feet (if we are to believe the Buddhist mythology). Whether true or simply great fiction it is still magic. "Pious dogma, if allowed to flourish, will always drive magic away." This is true for childhood conceptions of magic (no Johnny, the Lawd Jayzis don't work with no fat men in red suits!). Innovative thinking types of magic are less directly stifled through proscribed limits on acceptable thinking (religious monocultures). Thinking through the template of "this is the only real truth and need not be scientifically/philisophically proven" is like arbitrarily deciding that a musical band only use the same two musical chords and 3 rhythms for all their music. Perhaps the music would sound good, but a lot of brilliant possibilities would never be discovered. The attitudinal magic of Harry Potter and Buddha (and many others not mentioned) is also driven out when teachings such as "we are helpless before god" , determinism, altruism and other philosophies that denigrate the individual or the efficacy of human action. The real magic is that magic in any form still exists. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
2:55 pm	Magic (1) "Pious dogma, if allowed to flourish, will always drive magic away." Or so spoke the magic conch shell in "Skinny Legs and All" by Tom Robbins. This does not mean I believe in staves turning into serpents, water into wine or pulling rabbits out of hats. Perhaps "magic" could mean great leaps of intuitive understanding made by some, or finding innovate solutions to difficult problems (petroleum oil used to _lower_ land value in Pennsylvania until people figured out what to do with the stuff. Until then it just killed the crops.). Understood in this sense then magic *is* driven out where pious dogma flourishes. Why _are_ devout countries backwards and underdeveloped. Look at the moslem world. Religious tolerance is quite low, so a very pervasive mind-set dominates. Customs and prejudices dies hard and slow in places where strong intellectual/spiritual monoculture exists. When witches are burned progress runs screaming into the darkness. It is the eccentrics: the self-motivated, the self-expressed people, the self-discovered; that do most of the innovating. Pious dogma affects minds like intellectual concrete. If an entire country or region is effected by very similar sets of mental biases then true innovation, the working of magic, is as unlikely pork sushi at a bris. The dynamics of clashing ideas, the chaos of it, the challenge, this leads to intellectual/spiritual freedom. Such freedom is very conducive to creative thinking, making the workings of the above defined magic possible. But can magic mean more. A girlfriend once remarked about "the day the faeries died." Not understanding, I wanted elaboration. A misunderstood comment changed the mood and we never spoke of it again. :-( I now believe she meant this. When we are kid we believe in Santa Clause, flying, aliens, monsters and magic. *Everything* is possible, Tolkien is a historian, magic is real! Reality has a way of trodding on irrational beliefs and eventually it stepped on ours. We realize that only the possible is possible. No, Virgina, there is no Santa Claus. Neither deer nor horses fly and until we get evidence to the contrary, death is a one way exit from the experiential world. This is the day I think she was speaking about. A truly sobering day for a human of any age. Ironic that I get what she was speaking about years too late. It may have proven a wonderful conversation and made this project unnecessary. (to be continued. I'm not using a client program and I don't want to lose this. Additionally, I want to make sure that I keep this as a first draft, free-flow of consciousness project. The editor in me my rise and violate the sanctity of this project! ;p ) (Comment on this)
Monday, February 18th, 2002
11:55 pm	Small World It is truly amazing that most of my daily bike trip is shown on page 61 of AAA's monthly magazine, Via. It's in a map of the Santa Cruz Mountain wine appellation. I ride Hwy 17, Hwy 9, Congress Springs, Pierce, Mt. Eden, Stevens Canyon, and then return home using roads not listed on the map. Finding something as intimate and personal as my ride in such a publication is weird. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, February 10th, 2002
9:23 pm	Road trip to Los Angeles, CA (best read after my 011302 entry because it sets the context for the trip which began that day but wasn?t written until today) I?m heading off on my first road trip in a long time. It would be faster, less expensive and simpler to fly, but I want to drive. My friend, greyspongeamp, showed the example of why to drive. I had a few cds that I really wanted to burn-in on and a little over 700 miles in which to do it. Not to mention a thought or two to work my way through My plans to go dancing with my friend in San Luis Obispo fell through?car troubles while visiting her family?so she won?t be back in the area until Monday. An entire weekend without dancing? please keep me away from sharp objects. But at least I?ll be able to see family I?ve not seen in years. It?s 65-70 degrees, there are low, scattered cumulus clouds slowly meandering their way across the sky, and I?m hitting the open road at 1PM. I am in no hurry at all. I don?t have to be anywhere until 10AM tomorrow. Outside of Gilroy I take Highway 152 East (Hecker Pass), pop in Aenima by Tool, turn the music UP and begin my driving trance. This is the state where I hit cruise control, relax, and turn the driving over to a rather small piece of my mind. The rest of my mind is then completely immersed in the splendor of sound. There is a raw, emotional power in the music of Tool. The very sound is powerful. More, behind the power lies the musical virtuosity. And, they don?t simply run the accepted rhythms but play uncommon timings. Moreover, they mix timings while creating their base rhythms (ex. in the song ?Jimmy? the base rhythm is (6, 6, 8) whereas most band stick to a plain 4 rhythm (or 3, but not often). At times the bass, drums, and guitar are all running on different rhythms (?Aenima?, aka "Learn to Swim"). I was brought to tears by the sheer power of the music, imagination, and passion. Reading their lyrics and learning the meanings behind the sounds multiplies the power for me. The lyrics are brilliant, provocative, poetic, and passionate. Lest I be justly berated for ignoring the obvious let me mention the vocalist?s cunning rhythms and wide stylistic range. There are many reasons I chose Aenima to be my first cd. Tool brings me the catharsis of Greek tragedies but in the form of music and with many different flavors: rage, pain, transcendence, discovery, joy, remorse? 1:42 PM I?m driving through green, grassy, rolling hills populated by a sparse population of ancient oaks. This is truly beautiful. There are so few cars on the road that I actually see a faun. I have got to come back through this area during chanterelle season with a friend driving. Unaided I?ve found them from over 30 yards away. Put me in the passenger seat with a good pair of binoculars and ? :-) ? well, we can dream. But I?ve got a sneaking suspicion that I can make this happen! 2:02PM I happen upon San Luis Reservoir. Wow. I?ve not been there since I was a little kid in the first grade. My older brother and I went fishing with the Rodriguez family. Damn, that was a fun day. We were fishing for Striped Bass from the shore. None of us were getting as much as a nibble while this other group about 30? away was always reeling one in. After 2 hours of the dull, grinding pain of watching the futility of our own efforts while the other group?s efforts were so richly rewarded, they finally decided to stagger off, heavy laden with fish. Their spot worked like magic for us and we were homeward bound, at the limit, within 90 minutes. I don?t care much for fishing now but on that day it was one of the coolest experiences ever. 4:20PM I?m listening to ?Spark? by Tori while driving through the flat lands in the Central Valley on Highway 5. From the Choir Girl Hotel is amazing. What this woman can do with a keyboard is criminal. Nobody should be allowed to touch a piano that way, nobody. It?s just wrong. The passion of her playing is matched, if not surpassed, by her voice and lyrics. This is my third consecutive, listening to the cd and I am burning this in deep. The Central Valley on days like this will forever belong to this Album. 4:38PM ?Iieee? It?s late afternoon, the light is a burnt, hazy color as the sun makes its way toward the hills and dips behind the valley haze. I?m nearing the Mettler/Maricopa exit (Route 166). The land is row cropped. Some fields are planted while others lie fallow. This song melts me every time I hear it. It?s a good thing I-5 is such a straight road because I?m driving under the influence of Tori. 5:40PM There are moments that will always stand out in my mind as too perfect to be planned. The sun is setting, the clouds are brilliant, I?m cresting the mountain top and beginning my descent into LA, and ?Learn to Swim? comes on the RADIO!!! It just doesn?t get any better than this. You _cannot_ plan it this perfect and I made no effort to make it happen. I love being alive. Descending into what this song refers to as ?one great big festering neon distraction?, I head off to see family I?ve not seen in years. It?s always a great experience being with my Dad?s side of the family. But there was a definite surreal edge to it. Imagine, within a day of my turning the same age my father was when he died, I?m a pall-bearer for his older brother, and being told by the whole family how much I look like my father. Just to confuse matters more, my name is Bill, just like my father. His brothers must have felt like they were being haunted by my father during the last days of his life. [Real time: I just had an epiphany regarding my place in the family. I am the youngest son, from the union of the youngest of 3 daughters with the youngest son from 7 boys and a younger sister. I am the tail end of both families and as the grand prize winner I get to watch the rest of my family die, on both sides. Perversely enough, this is both horrific and beautiful. My family will live on through me and in my memory. Wow. That was an emotional roller coaster. Now back to the trip.] I had forgotten how deeply Mormon my family is, but a family funeral serves as a very sharp wake-up call. It has been a long time since I have spent any significant time with religious people. My aunt, bless her heart, really believes that my grandmother haunts her house. Worse, her husband agrees. Yikes. Not a day goes by that I don?t thank god I?m an atheist! :) As an aside, on of my favorite quotes: ?It has been said that the highest praise of God consists in the denial of Him by the atheist, who finds creation so perfect that he can dispense with a creator.? Marcel Proust The trip back home was far less memorable than the trip out. This is probably due to having my emotional needle pegged all the while I was there. I even drove for a few hours with nothing but the sound of my thoughts. Late afternoon, driving west on 152 I went through the green, rolling oak lands. I hit play, with no idea of what I?d hear, and out came ?Iieee?. I thought my sponge had been wrung dry but Tori proves me wrong again, and so beautifully. My next road trip is up to Seattle by way of Portland. Now I have to find out where to go dancing in both cities. An Argentine Tango milonga would be fun, as would a Salsa club or a West Coast Swing club. On long trips dancing is very important because, 1?it?s me we?re talking about, 2?breaking up long trips is generally wise, and 3?exercise. Sitting in a car is hard work and must be rewarded with dancing. Current Mood: sleepy Current Music: If I have to explain you just wouldn't understand. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
2:02 pm	Disease, addiction, and obsession (it's all good, now) 021002 1:02PM Greetings my friends. Today is my day to write. I write now of my absence, new obsession, and tie up a few loose ends. Other posts will follow in short order. And with no further ado... The last few weeks have been quite eventful, as evidenced by my stunning lack of comment. I?ve been bouncing between exuberantly virile health and the lethargy of the truly infirm. Today I am staggering back to firmity again. I will not bore/offend you with the gruesome details, but suffice it to say this is no ordinary cold. It has ridden me like a psychotic monkey on the back of a deranged horse, beating, biting, and bludgeoning me. I actually took yesterday off from working in order to recuperate. Sick days for me are at most a semiannual occurrence. Much to my everlasting shame I must also admit that I am a lowly addict. Unfortunately it?s no mere junk one can buy on the street. It?s far, far worse?endorphins. I?d been jonesing for the longest time. An old racquetball injury took away my previous supplier: running. After a year or two of withdrawals a friend of mine hooked me up with a new supplier: bicycling. This happened shortly after I returned from Los Angeles and all I can say is that it?s good to be on the nod again. My daily ride takes me through the hills of Saratoga, past two vineyards, and back out to civilization through Stevens Canyon and Stevens Reservoir. It?s a little over 30 miles with some inclines that would prompt all but the hardiest of billy goats to look for an elevator. I love this ride! One of the many things I loved about running was the feeling of pushing myself to the limit. I didn?t think that was possible with a bike. I?ve rarely been so happy to be proven wrong. When I ride it?s always in quest of the lung-burn, for experience has taught this junkie that endorphins are released in extremity. There is nothing like the burn that comes with peddling up a quarter-mile of 15% grade. Following that with the fast 1 mile descent through a deserted county park that follows the climb is surely synergistic (to say the least). Violating speed laws while on a bicycle is always a rush, but doing so through beayoootiful forests, then coasting past the reservoir, is to runners? high what fine dining is to Fast Food. MMMmmmmmm! :) Just thinking about it makes me want to jump on my bike and ride the cold out of my body. But worry not; I shall forebear (dammit!). When I?m this close to winning over this nasty affliction there is no way that I?m going for ?double or nothing.? Time now for medicine, tea, music, reading, and possibly a short nap. Then, as Arnold would say, ?I?ll be back!? Current Mood: Fidgety as hell! Current Music: Miles Davis "Kind of Blue" (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, January 21st, 2002
10:04 pm	Bonding, Raving, and Beauty on Sunset Beach I?m writing this on Sunday the 20th @ 10PM but won't post until I'm coherent enough to spell check. I am basking in the afterglow of a phenomenal, wild-eyed evening. I feel like a little kid that?s just finished a hyperactive, sugar induced burst of manic ?power-playing?. I?m exhausted and radiant from the experience. It is difficult to explain how wonderful I feel after a long, luxuriant shower, clean clothes, a glass of wine, and now tea. [contented sigh] :-) We were camping within a half-mile of the beach (Sunset Beach, 10 miles South of Santa Cruz, CA). We were up all night listening to music, talking, listening, playing on the beach, burning fearsome fires, and, at times, engaging in some of the deepest conversation possible. What a way to recharge the batteries. The evening was surreal and magical. I arrived in time to watch the sunset on the beach, returned home today in time to watch sunset from my balcony, and even managed to honor a stunningly beautiful memory. It just doesn?t get much better. The conversations were incredible. They resonated so deeply within me that at times I experience them from many perspectives, sometimes I felt like a child, other times I felt as if I were an old man deep in decrepitude. It felt that we always had been and always would be together. We spoke of life, beauty, art, and music. We spoke as only kindred-spirits can. We deeply understood what the others intended. We quipped and jousted. We spoke each other?s thoughts. We experienced each other?s lives from a nearly experiential basis. All I can say is WOW! We raved under moonlight on a beautiful beach with none but the stars to bear witness! But even the most enthusiastic creatures must sleep. I slept for an hour while the laziest sluggard must have hibernated for nearly three hours. This was also the night I burned-in on Steely Dan, Citizen (Volume 3 of 4). It is good enough to deserve being banned. ?Sorry, citizen, this music is too good, so you must not be allowed to listen to it?. For music to connect with me there must be something distinctive. This may be great lyrics, musical virtuosity, working a nice groove, ? etc. This album has it all. The lyrics are poetic and meaningful, the artistry is excellent, but their ability to work a groove is incredible. ?Throw back the Little Ones? is a beautiful example of working it. We listened to it, danced around the fire in the camp, and then went to play on the beach (at 2AM). On the way home I listened to it again. You?ll never guess what I?m listening to now! ;p On the way home, still listening to Citizen, I passed through Santa Cruz. My last girlfriend used to live there and ours was the most phenomenal relationship of my life. This was the one year anniversary of our meeting?a fact I didn?t realize until I was leaving. But this is a tale to be told later. The bottom line is: this was a phenomenal day. Current Mood: Giddy as a 6-year old Current Music: Steely Dan, Citizen (Volume 3 of 4) (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, January 13th, 2002
10:09 am	Update and Roadtrip Sorry for my long absence. Between Vanilla Sky, We the Living (Rand), A Knight's Tale, and Dancer in the Dark I have been so caught up in my own thoughts that I couldn't possibly communicate them. The passionate lives portrayed in these films gave me such a profound sense of kinship. I must write more later (or is that supposed to be laterer? ;p ). But... Today begins a road trip to Los Angeles. On the way down I'm going out dancing with a friend in San Luis Obispo (appx. 1/2 way). That will be a nice diversion. I'm going down for my uncle Gail's funeral. I may not have mentioned this before, but my father died when I was 4 1/2 years old. Today I turn the same age my father was when he died in a motorcycle accident. But it gets stranger.... Gail is the man my mother was engaged to before he left for Korea to be a Mormon missionary. While he was gone she met, fell in love with, and married my dad (Gail's younger brother). I didn't know this story until a couple of years ago. A relationship this insane could only have been motivated by the most extreme love. The man whose pall I shall bear could just have easily been my father. This is going to be a hell of a trip on many fronts. I only wish I had someone to go dancing with in LA. I am loaded with music. 6 disks specifically chosen to burn in on, and a hundred others for variety. I've packed my tea paraphernalia, my music, and the rest of the essentials. Now to eat and hit the open road. What a beautiful day. Enjoy yourselves, my friends. Today is my birthday and I give it to you as my gift and celebration. Current Mood: energetic Current Music: Belle and Sebastian, "Fold your hands child..." (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, January 1st, 2002
5:43 pm	Vanilla Sky Oh my God! I'm still dazed. I just saw the movie with a friend and am going to see it again in a couple of hours. What a phenomenal movie. If you've never seen it, go. If you have and you want to try hurting yourself, attempt to explain it to someone. Explaining this movie is like trying to explain Memento ! I will write more after I see it again tonight. p.s. I have never watched a movie, in the theater, twice in one day. (Pink Floyd The Wall doesn't count. It's really a music video cleverly disguise as a movie. ;p ) Current Mood: Dazed with wonder Current Music: The beating of my heart! (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, December 28th, 2001
9:21 am	Trading philosophy for sleep and tea This is one of those days when I trade my beloved Tea for its more potent cousin, coffee, at least in the morning. Why? It?s 9AM, I have done grievous harm to my alarm clock for having brought me the bad news that my decision to stay up till 3AM discussing the finer points of logic did not also cause my the day to start later. Kill the messenger! ;p I start ?work? (teaching dance) at 11AM. I?m done at 2PM, and then head up to San Francisco for afternoon tea, to be followed by the SF Ballet! Well, they?re not actually following me, or my tea, but you get the picture. Yes! AAAAahhh! I just noticed that I?m so spaced I forgot to turn on music. Must run, need music. Current Mood: groggy Current Music: Ohmygodifogottoturnonmymusic (8 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, December 26th, 2001
11:58 am	Lord of the Ring Lord of the Ring! I just saw it yesterday, Xmas, with a friend. What a movie! Trust me, I was tough customer. I read the series at least annually for years, starting in the 6th grade and continuing through my sophomore year in College. I have a _vivid_ imagination and I have run the scenes in my mind more than a couple of times. I could finally *see* what I had only imagined for years. The experience is indescribable. I wept. Rivendell, I cried when I saw Rivendell?just like I am now. This book had deep personal memories and meaning to me. To see my thoughts and visions on the screen?! I?m just glad it was dark. Why are you crying, it?s only a city? ?If I have to explain it you wouldn?t understand anyway!? There are times when that is all than can be honestly said, but fortunately my friend never asked. I loved this movie because I finally saw what I would have aspired to create if doing so were my job/passion. I am still in awe. Literature touches me most when there is personal significance: when the characters feel what I would have felt, notice what I would have noticed, do what I hope I would have done. My experience of life is limited but this is not so in literature. I love seeing myself in the pages another has written. It deepens my bond to the art, the artist, the character, and, most importantly, to myself. To find that others see a creature I can relate to as worthy of artistic representation is one of the highest complements I can receive. To receive such a grand complement from a literary giant is to blush like a young schoolgirl kissed by her movie heartthrob. My cheeks are still aglow and my eyes are still moist. Current Mood: Awed Current Music: Music: Chopin ?Ballade No. 1? performed by H?l?ne Grimaud. (Comment on this)
Monday, December 24th, 2001
11:16 pm	A day to reflect, relax, and cook 10AM Twas the night before Christmas And all through the house Not a creature was stirring It?s remarkable what can be accomplished with a little rat poison! ;p 12:30PM What a beautiful day. I?ve just made tomorrow?s Sourdough, the Madeleine batter (for morning tea), started the rice for lunch and will begin the Mabo Tofu with Chicken as soon as this entry is completed. I love cooking. (as well as eating). One of the great benefits of cooking is the smell. I have grown accustomed to my apartment smelling like yeast. I gave up buying bread a couple of months ago. I figured it made no sense to buy bread when I can make it 1) better 2) for less money 3) enjoy the whole process and 4) get my house to smell wonderful as a byproduct. The irony is that I cannot smell it until I?ve been out and return home. Then the first smell is of yeast, and not just any yeast, _my yeast._ I created my own sourdough starter from flour, water, and red grapes. It took a month of doing but it?s mine, mine, mine! :) If I sound like a fanatic then your hearing is good. I am. Making bread is one of the most fascinating things in life. I get to turn flour, water, and salt into great food. It just requires interacting intelligently with a colony of yeast. My sourdough starter is alive. I feed it every day like a pet except starter needs 2-3 feedings per day. Also like a pet, don?t skip feeding too often or bad things happen. To make bread you feed a bunch of flour and water to portion of starter, beat it, let it rest, add salt, _beat it_ more, keep it warm and let it ferment, shape, refrigerate overnight, warm and let raise, bake, let cool, and finally eat. At each step you have to time what you do according to how the yeast is ?feeling? today. The weather affects the way the yeast _feels_ and therefore the way the bread turns out. Making bread is not a science but an art and one that I enjoy. Today?s bread went wonderfully. Music: Bjork ?Gling-Glo? 10:22PM After lunch and a couple hours of reading I started cooking dinner. I just finished. The only main course I cook without a recipe is Chicken with Dumplings. Dessert, on the other hand, was complex and involved: Sharfen-Berger Chocolate Steamed Pudding. It took me 2 hours of prep and 90 minutes of cooking but *wow!* This was the first time I?ve tried making it but it certainly won?t be the last. I made cr?me fra?che to try with it tomorrow. As for tonight, the apartment is clean, the dishes are done, and as soon as Billie stops singing to me I?m going to finish watching ?We the Living.? This is my first time watching it. What a great movie! This is the way I like to spend Christmas Eve: cooking, eating well, listening to great music, and watching a great movie. I get a day to myself, to read, contemplate, and treat myself like a king. Tomorrow?s a busy day. In the morning I?m hiking with a childhood friend, seeing a movie with another, and going to dinner with some people who are part of my family of choice. Sometimes it sucks to be me but this sure isn?t one of them. Enjoy your holidays while I enjoy my Holiday. Music: Billie Holiday ?The Definitive? (Comment on this)
Saturday, December 15th, 2001
3:07 am	The family of chance and the family of choice I love my blood family. They enrich my life in many ways. They're different from me in so many ways, but we'll be in touch throughout our lives because we share blood. While this is an essential part of human existence there is another that is _at least_ as valuable: the family of the soul. We all know our family of chance--those who share our blood. They're easy to find. My family of choice is a far craftier lot. The beauty of LJ is that I'm finding them, you, here. Many people live "lives of quite desperation", sell themselves short, compromise their *essential* values, trade passion for security and self-actualization for acceptance. Such people could be no more foreign to me were they to have hooves, horns, scales and wings. I seek those who breathe my breath, experience the world I live in. Give me the passionately uninhibited, the gypsy souled, the emotionally promiscuous, those who *cannot understand* how most people go through their lives. We are family. I cannot understand those who sell their dreams for security, comfort, acceptance or any of the other placebos the seeming majority of the world is addicted to. There are far more interesting addictions: imagination, beauty, knowledge, pleasure, contemplation, poetry, passion.... far more than my sleep befuddled mind can list. My family of choice is out there. They're looking for me as diligently as I seek them. I will find you. I am as patient as death and as relentless as time. I will recognize you by the fire in your heart, the light in your eyes, the way you are staggered by beauty that others fail to recognize. We are a family of adventurers: intellectually, emotionally, and physically. *We are not passive!* Sometimes we are slightly unhinged. We are eccentrics, creative, and chasers of the rainbows of our dreams. Those I have discovered tend to be loners who long for companionship but are unwilling to compromise what they want for what happens to be available at the moment. When we meet, break through the boundaries that disguise us from each other, it is something to witness (and better yet, to experience!). Like Calvin coming home and ferociously tackled by Hobbes, who missed him so much he could no longer restrain himself, I seek my family of choice. The fellow passion-junkies, beauty addicts, wit fencers, knowledge miners, and adventurers of the soul. I care not who does the tackling, so long as we meet. I am home! Current Mood: contemplative Current Music: Maximum Indifference (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, December 14th, 2001
6:08 pm	These shoes were made for dancing... I am Bill?s mischievous, playful side and I am going out dancing tonight. This is not a teaching night, this is not a reflective and solitary night, this sure as hell is not a Silent Night: this is a Dancing Night and will not be pent-up any longer. Tonight I pick the lock, climb the wall and escape. If need be I will even drag the rest of Bill along with me! As for you... Not only are you welcome but your presence is *demanded*. While we may be separated by many miles we are all going to the same blissful place: Dancers? Oblivion. I will see you there. The music begins, it speaks directly to your body, and its power builds. You may struggle, you may scream, but you cannot win. The fact is that you don?t want to win. Finally, the music reaches its powerful arm deep into your body, _grabs_ you with its irresistible force, and moves you to the dance floor. This is my experience. Music is the one art form that completely bypasses the conscious mind and connects directly to the emotions. Music is a drug in every non-physical sense of the word. It is mind-altering, mood-altering? it changes your sense of awareness. Normally I can hear only through my ears. When I?m under the influence of music I can hear with every part of my body. This is what drives me, compels me to dance. How can one fight an influence that permeates one?s soul so completely? I?d rather fight my survival instinct. When the right music comes on I feel like a scene from Trainspotting. My mind falls backward and sinks into the Red Velvet like a warm, sensuous sea. I am surrounded, dominated, permeated, and completely over-mastered by the music. All I can do to stay alive is move my body in the attempt to keep my precious head above water: all I can do is dance. Roxy Music was absolutely right when they did the song ?Love is the Drug?. Yes, love is my drug of choice. The particular form of primal madness that comes with love is why I am alive. While dancing keeps my head above the water, love holds my head underwater and I drown in Bliss and am born-again, *enhanced!* Love is my drug of choice, but _music is the only one I can buy_. Last night I was listening to music with my music-pusher. He came over at 3PM and we did nothing but listen to music and talk. Finally at 2:30AM he left. Tonight I need another dose. I gotta have it, man. Just a little more, one last dance. You don?t have to close already do you. Just one more dance. I am Bill?s playful and mischievous side and tonight _I DANCE_. Current Mood: ecstatic Current Music: Porcupine Tree "The Sky Moves Sideways" (Comment on this)
1:30 pm	A successful non-violent approach to terrorism Yesterday on NPR I actually heard a discussion that stimulated my mind (wheeeeeEEEEEE!). There was an analyst from the Rand Corporation that talked about the only *successful* rolling-up/dismantling of a terrorist organization. It was accomplished in the early- to mid-seventies. How was this done? Was it 1) Lots of guns, 2) Napalm and more guns, 3) Agent Orange, The Mossad, CIA, and *way more* guns, 4) sleep deprivation, deprogramming, and ritualized rape? or 5) Giving them something to live for rather than something to die for. Offensive as it is it was accomplished through option #5. And who was it that carried out this brutal elimination of an entire terrorist organization? The PLO under Yassar Arafat. The Black September organization was _shut-down_ by giving their members something to live for. The PLO recruited beautiful, intelligent, Palestinian women, and asked them to come to a mixer. The member of BS were also invited. The poor hapless BSers fell in love (horrors!), found peaceful occupations =:-O, and refused all future enticements to engage in Jihad. :-( It's a sad story, I know. Perfectly good terrorists becoming husbands, fathers, and productive members of their societies. What a waste! No bombs, no bullets, and worst of all, no bloodshed! What the hell is the world coming to!!? What will the news organizations write about and how will the munitions makers stay in business. We've *got* to do something to protect these vital domestic industries! But rest assured this type of tactic could never work now. At least there is some comfort in knowing that. WARHEADS Hey Kid, wanna have some fun? Choose a side and here?s your gun. Brought up knowing right from wrong, Squash the meek, inherit the strong. Just try and cross the line, Don't even bother to waste my time. What's that look in your eyes? This world ain't big enough for two, And I've got my sights on you. Would you like to be, I'm a WARHEAD? you're a WARHEAD, A Warhead just like me... he's a WARHEAD ... she's a WARHEAD Watch 'em scream 'n yell. Would you like to be, a WARHEAD too When I blow them straight to Hell Ramboy, it's us and them Just like your Daddy in Vietnam. Monkey see, monkey do, You're boy's grown up just like you. This world ain't big enough for two, and I've got my eye on you. I've seen Black heads, White heads, Red heads, Dead heads, Big heads, Shit heads, But there's no heads like WARHEADS! -Extreme The full title to this album is "Three Sides to Every Story: Yours, Mine, and the Truth". You've got to love a cd with songs like: WARHEADS, Rest in Peace, Politcalamity, Cupid's Dead, and PEACEMAKER DIE!!! Current Mood: Flip Current Music: Extreme "Three Sides to Every Story" (Comment on this)
Thursday, December 13th, 2001
1:13 am	Today Ruled! (Madeleines and dancing) There are occasionally days the you could live every day for a week and love each time. Everything works, feels great, and is practically effortless. Of course _everything_ won't be perfect, but the imperfections only heighten your awareness of how everything else is. This was one of those days. Right now I'm listening to "The Divine Comedy" by Milla, drinking a glass of Beaujolais Nouveau, and writing about a wonderful day for people I care about: family and friends (new and old). It just doesn't get much better. Today I baked my first Madeleines. Do you have any idea how wonderful that made my apartment smell? It was almost *indecent* how the aroma of almonds, vanilla bean, and lemon zest each permeated the whole place. What's more, a friend I'd not seen in months came by while I was baking so we both got a pleasant surprise. They tasted great but were the _slight_ imperfection that heightened the extraordinary beauty of the rest of the day. I over filled the cups so they overflowed a bit and weren't as pretty as they could have been. But for my first time I'm nothing but smiles. Tomorrow's will be even better though. Then off to dance. What a great time! Everything worked. I made the learning fun. Each of my student's had a major break-through in their dancing, enjoyed-the-hell out of their lesson, left with much more energy than they came in with, I was having a great time, and I am getting *paid* for this!!! It just doesn't get much better but I'm quite willing to be proven wrong. :) One student's lesson was truely exceptional--we just "invented" a new dance. Somebody, some where, must have done or be doing it. It was so much fun. It enabled her to dance to music that normally requires a quite rhythmically complex dance. I've wanted to experiment with this type of dance but had never thought to "just do it" with one of my superior students. What a blast! We both had a great time. And I get paid for this! I'm still surprised by this at times. Well, I've got to get to bed: my wine's almost gone, my cd's on last the last track(1), and tomorrow I'm baking sourdough Country White first time with my own personal starter. But before I do any of that tomorrow I'm having fresh Madeleines with my tea. It's thoughts like that that make it easy to fall asleep. Mmm... fresh Madeleines and tea in the morning. MMmmmmm.... -Bill (1)Does anybody out there speak Ukrainian or know someone who does? Current Mood: Ridiculously Happy Current Music: Milla "The Divine Comedy" (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, December 9th, 2001
8:22 pm	Resuming life on the rocks Some people need coffee to wake up, others tea, some of my friends wake and bake, but nothing wakes me up like hanging by my fingers from a granite wall with nothing below to catch me but the Earth with its jagged, rocky embrace. Today was my first day off the ground in 2 years. God how I've missed it. I climbed until my fingers ached and bled. That was only an hour or so since I started with a cut on the tip of one finger. It's funny--the cut's in the same place I hurt my first time climbing (when I was 18 I will write of this experience later). Climbing clears my mind. Focusing on the truly important is never so easy as when your life depends on it. The detritus of daily life is swept into a pile and burned in my pyromaniacal passion for life. Bereft of that which no longer serves my life I can see more clearly, live more simply, and truly enjoy the moment in which I live. Winter in CA is not the best time for outdoor climbing. I will spend my time in the climbing gym until the weather clears. Then it's all about flesh on stone. Now to celebrate my survival: read Yeats, listen to Bjork and plan my menu for next week. If I'm in luck then my hiking on Tuesday will yeild some excellent wild mushrooms (oyster mushrooms, chanterelles, armilariella mellea, puffballs or others). Current Mood: Amped!!! Current Music: Tool - Aenima (Comment on this)
Saturday, December 8th, 2001
11:18 pm	When the sky blooms As a kid I always enjoyed watching time-lapse photography of flowers blooming. To see a rose go from bud to bloom in a few short moments always took my breath away. This is also why I *love* sunsets. During daylight hours we see only the surface of clouds but at twilight we can see into the hearts of the clouds like a panoramic MRI of the sky. This is when the sky blooms like a flower in time-lapse photography. 30 minutes. This is all we get to see the unique miracle of each day's setting sun. As the angle of the light shifts while the sun dips ever lower we can see where the clouds thin, where previously invisible tendrils protrude, we can see which clouds are closer or farther away, and we can see much more. 30 minutes. The sky, stripped of it's light, slowly reveals its beauty like a lover luxuriantly disrobing for the one who holds their heart. 30 minutes. Each time new, each time different, each time unique. You can tell when it's going to be extraordinary. The mix of clouds is right: thin, high cirrus, fluffy cumulous, low, translucent stratus--variety is the key. Nature is the artist, the sky is the canvas, and all that is necessary is for some beholder's eye to witness and call it beautiful. That's my job. Armed with a glass of Pinot Noir, jazz or classical music, an open heart, and an eager eye I stand on my balcony to watch the sky reveal it's beauty to my loving eyes. There are times of transcendent beauty that will always be with me, the sun_rise_ in Arizona and the sunset in Palo Alto standing on top of a hill to name but two. My tears were spilt like libations to the beauty I witnessed, to the fire that lit the sky and the fire in my heart. Current Mood: peaceful Current Music: Beth Orton - Central Reservation (1 Comment |Comment on this)