GOGOL BORDELLO - Trans-Continental Hustle (official video) (by GogolBordello)
Why can’t I hear this on the radio?
Well, at least I can hear it somewhere…
Tracks
Drifting pitifully in the whirlwind of birth and death,
As if wandering in a dream,
In the midst of illusion I awaken to the true path;
There is one more matter I must not neglect,
But I need not bother now,
As I listen to the sound of the evening rain
Falling on the roof of my temple retreat
In the deep grass of Fukakusa.
—Eihei Dōgen (1200 - 1253)Image by Hasui Kawase, Rainy Night at Maekawa, 1932
from parabola-magazine.
Sublime.
One of the BEST ad campaigns about representation I have seen.
Everyone has a backbone. Use yours.
Amazing PSAs. I want to see these around Miami. Do they have versions in Spanish, Kreyol and Portuguese? Those would be awesome.
Yuck.
The sickening irony here: if anyone had suggested wiretapping churches, or imprisoning nuns for wearing habits, the howl of “Anti-Christian persecution!” would not stop.
(Source: sandandglass)
Moods swing; poetry remains.
I’ve been very, very moody of late.
Much of it has to do with the balance between work and personal time—or the lack thereof. I’ve been at _____’s Market nearly three months now. So close to accruing bennies, yet so far…!
I’m not sorry to be working. It beats the days of staying in my bed, sleeping the afternoons away, or going on the pavement chase, classifieds and resume in hand.
I am, however, not fond of the micromanagement, the feeling that I am at the company’s pleasure, the need to “present” as pleasant, cheerful, and ready to help at a moment’s notice.
Shiny happy I’m not. And finding a balance between personality and professional behavior is trying.
This month—so far—I’ve kept to my goal of writing at least one poem a day.
I’ve also been experiencing mood swings, some of which probably have little to do with hormones. The days when I’m not crying I’m irritable, if not downright angry.
I’ve promised myself to see a doctor sometime in May or June. If, however, things get worse, I may just march myself to the ER at Coral Gables Hospital—insurance be damned. I hope I can hold out a bit longer.
Years ago, I received a diagnosis of Bipolar 2 Disorder.
It may be time to revisit that diagnosis.
In the meantime, I’ll keep writing.
A Principled Man - Steve Taylor - “I Predict 1990” (by Rafaeldamian)
I don’t listen to a lot of CCM(Contemporary Christian Music) these days. Much of it I find too treacly, formulaic—just flat out dreadful.
For Steve Taylor I make an exception…
Yes, indeed.
The Smiths {Jensen} Pretty Girls Make Graves {1983 HQ Audio} (by hipsterdisco)
The story so far
Thus far…I have been working on my writing and creating poems. Time, work, and stress have deviled me.
I have no idea where this month will lead. But I’m determined to see the goal of a poem a day through…
Write one leaf in the form of a review of dill pickles.
Write One Leaf + about + ask + random + facebook + twitter
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Whenever I eat at a deli, I always look forward to the round of relishes and pickles that kickstart the meal.
And I especially look forward to the pickles: something about the tang, the crunch, the sharpness stimulates my appetite in ways that few other things do.
I especially like pickles made on site: the brighter green of the Kirby cukes, the flecks of dill, garlic, pepper (black or red flake, sometimes both), and the brine create an amazing alchemy. Here is a pickle that can cut through the fattiness of, say, a hot pastrami, or the creaminess of a Reuben on rye!
