A Crack in the Universe Where the Pain Comes In

There is a crack in the universe where the pain comes in and keeps my mind in a Krampüs-enraged Mental Holocaust. (Lord have mercy…turn this down before you click the play button on song 2 and more at their bandcamp page…)

Can I get a witness? Do ya feel me? The duplicitous quotidian matter before us numerous times per hour (not even by DAY anymore!) feels like wading though the river Styx en route to a stop off in Neverland to pick up the young ones to swallow them whole because they just might make a great face cream to keep you looking young again. “It’s Palmolive: you’re soaking in it.”

The great American Dream has become UNHINGED and is reeling off the charts of negativism. Anger has enveloped the entire world to the point of too-often suicide bombers who bring death and destruction in horrific small doses while 45 sells billions in armaments to Saudi Arabia. What? Peddling massive weapons one day, touching a holy wall the next, meeting with the Pope the next mumbling, “I won’t forget what you said.” (ostensibly about peace) 

While 45 takes “heed” to the thought of his tiny hand in making peace, a ReTHUGlicon candidate running for Congress from Montana, Greg Gianforte, commits physical abuse in response to a question by a Guardian Reporter.

We are plunging…

Gustave Doré_-_Etching of Styx cc.large

Gustave Doré, 1861


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Human Resources

Anyone who has worked for a public institution or a corporation knows these two words have some important meaning. They represent a department of people whose job it is to ensure that the organization for which they work maintains a propriety among the humans who work there. Duties include assuring that an ample number of working humans are hired for the job with the requisite skills and knowledge as well as keeping those who are employed with the organization in a happy step with the rules and regulations of the entire body corporeal.

What if we look at the two words from the mindset of the people who consider themselves well above this group of souls working together. You know the person(s), the boss, head honcho, supervisor, manager, Vice President, President, Premier, Platypus Rex. Think of the way that these people think of those beneath them–the staff, personnel, workforce, crew, manpower, the working classproletariat…workforce-planning

Now, let’s just ponder the man in charge at the top of the heap of these UnTied States and the man in charge (Majority Leader) of the Senate and the man in charge of the House…think about the words in and of themselves:



Sit with your eyes closed and just wonder what images or thoughts may come to those three men and the political control they have over our nation’s humans and our global resources and how they might think of humans AS resources. What do they do with our earth resources? Squander • Pillage • Rape • Kill • Endanger • Destroy.

OK. Now open your eyes…

humanscommodity • chattel

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America, the ReTHUGlican “precious”

We Are Not OK.jpg

America_ReTHUGlican Precious

Precious.jpeg      Gorsuch Gollum.png

McConnell.png   45 to Mars-a-Lago.jpg

45 cost to Mars.png


I made a little visual report while waiting to get my head examined…

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Going Postal

The signs filled my inbox of life all week, spritzed here and there peppering what was otherwise a lovely and eventful Spring Break week remaining at home to clear, cleanse, and create. I socialized with different friends sharing our fidgets and widgets while enjoying various gaieties like swimming, chatting, sangria-drinking, reading, binge-watching someone’s new favorite show…

The first drip began as a gush of information about the Russian connection with the Whitehouse as myriad journalists tried to make sense of the farce governing our country. Then a blip on my radar about Thucydides and a U.S. – China warning of potential conflict titled “Destined for war? China, America and the Thucydides Trap” in the March 30, 2017 Financial Times by Gideon Rachman.  It took me a minute to remember the analogy as I read the title and decided to click on it. “The phrase, a reference to the ancient Greek historian’s observations about the war between Sparta and Athens in the fifth century BC…”  A couple of days later, I was sorting some papers when I found little piece of black paper I had written on with gold ink back in November, the first weekend after the election. I had pulled out my Political Map of World History to make note of the times when a major conflict came about somewhere in the world. It seems that about every 300 years, a major regime change occurs on at least one continent and it includes a bloody war. The piece of paper I found had the words:  “431 – 404  Peloponnesian War between Sparta and Athens” inscribed upon it.

Hmmm. Interesting that out of all of the historical notes I wrote, this is the one I found.

Another more personal drip came about from a strange dream that included my ex-wife who seemed as though she were still in love with me in the vision of her. I felt the “being taken care of” vibe in my sleep as we walked through a forest together. I’ve been quite pleased with my solo life for these past several years as the alone time allows me all I need to write and do as I please in my daily routine. As I hear the familiar phrase “let me check with my partner/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife first” when planning events, I smile while thanking the stars that I don’t have that particular albatross to impede my decision-making. But the morning I awoke from that dream, I felt a yearning that I lost long ago. I wondered what my life would be like right now if we had made it to year 18 together. After a few hours to allow myself to soak in the melancholy, I popped back into happy solo me and went about my day. A couple of days later, I decided to bask in the sun out back in the yard behind the apartment building I live in. I took down a book and a glass of iced tea to place on the one piece of furniture I have outside — a colorful,  small, round outdoor table. When I stepped out back, I couldn’t find it at first. Then, I noticed the top of the table leaning against the back wall of the patio. I found the base being used to prop up a large potted plant of my neighbor’s in the garden. They must have thought I don’t use it much. It was one of the cherished wedding presents that I had decided to keep from a group of my friends. We split up our gifts according to whose friends/family gave to us. There it was, separated. One part propping up new life, growing in the sun; the colorful circular top cast aside against a wall.

Continuing in the personal realm, I took out my favorite fountain pen and some thick paper to write a letter to my nephew who has been in jail since November 2014. He killed a man. He has yet to go to trial. I keep up with him through writing frequent letters and filling his commissary account every couple of months. He writes me regularly. He’s a good writer. I’m impressed with his grammar, syntax, punctuation, and creative commentary about life behind bars. I have sent him a few books on screenwriting to help him pass the time. I try to inspire him to write about the characters he meets who come and go, and some who stay, like him, with liberty and justice evading them. It’s called pre-trial detention and it can go on for years.

Since I couldn’t sit in the back yard with my tea on my table, I decided to walk to the post office to drop the letter to my nephew while absorbing some Vitamin D from the sun along the way. I had just dropped the letter into the box when a phone call from my brother buzzed in my back pocket…


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Insular Oblivion

Yes, I like it like that. I’m hearing “That’s the Way of the World” in my head from working on a quick mastering of a  live song version recorded by my students yesterday of “Stuffed”, a great band of musicians in the Bay Area/SF. Their saxophonist, guitarist, and keyboardist provide lead lines in lieu of a vocalist, so the song stayed with me this morning as I wafted about my pad on my first day of Spring Break.

Ahhhh, feels good to relax.

Thank you Charles Stepney, Maurice White and Verdine White for a beautiful song. The lyrics resonate with me this day.

I tried a little a capella verse and chorus of my own:

I’m using Pro Tools with the Focusrite Liquid 56 Saffire audio interface set to a couple of interesting mic preamp emulations. My trusty (and favorite) Audio Technica AT4050 provides the transducer of my voice to electrical signal flow and I’ve wrapped it up in a pretty Waves Abbey Road EMI TG12345 plate reverb with the addition of Schoeps Particles on the master bus.

Feelin’ fine.

Hearts of fire creates love desire
Take you high and higher to the world you belong
Hearts of fire creates love desire
High and higher to your place on the throne
We come together on this special day
Sing our message loud and clear
Looking back, we’ve touched on sorrowful days
Future pass, they disappear
You will find peace of mind
If you look way down in your heart and soul
Don’t hesitate ’cause the world seems cold
Stay young at heart, ’cause you’re never, never old
That’s the way of the world
Plant your flower and you grow a pearl
Child is born with a heart of gold
Way of the world makes his heart so cold
Hearts of fire create love desire take you
High and higher to the world you belong
Hearts of fire love desire
High and higher, yeah yeah yeah
Hearts of
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Ignorance is bliss

until you die from it, or you kill others because of it.

Every one of the past 59 days reveal a dissection of the American mindset that expands further with each new proclamation of 45 and his S.S. Two Stephens (Bannon and Miller) both present cruel and devious minds that seek to shock American liberalism into oblivion. The child king gleefully enriches himself and his children while signing executive orders drawn up by his white supremacist, nationalist S.S.

While the majority of us suffer from daily fits of rage coupled with a tightened stomach filled with distress, there exist a minority who swoon at his every action seeing only a protector in him. Even when they hear the words that will destroy what they have, they cannot comprehend any true meaning, but rather blurt out repeated right-wing marketing memes from Sean Hannity, Alex Jones, Rush Limbaugh, Breitbart News, and Infowars. Just take a look at the hyperlinked infowars site. I could only stomach summoning one for your displeasure. Look at the headlines and see what the people who are cloaked in their incomprehensible bliss take for real news while deluding themselves that mainstream journalism and science is fake.

This type of disdain for reality will not sustain itself, but by the time those who need the hand of government the most wake up from their hallucinations, everything will be gone. We take for granted the clean air that we breathe that just a few decades ago before the EPA started to regulate industrial expulsions caused a brown, toxic haze in many of our cities. Besides the poor residents of Flint, Michigan, most of us have access to unpolluted water that feeds the food we grow and quenches our thirst. This is because it has been at the forefront of regulatory action by the EPA since 1972 when the Clean Water Act became law.

“As amended in 1972, the law became commonly known as the Clean Water Act (CWA). The 1972 amendments: Established the basic structure for regulating pollutant discharges into the waters of the United States. Gave EPA the authority to implement pollution control programs such as setting wastewater standards for industry.”

This is America of the 1970’s.    1970's Toxic America

Are we going to sit and watch while the ignorant who blissfully reject this abject truth allow it come to pass? This is insanity multiplied by the power of 10. As long as the brand name associated with 45 continues in global promotion, he nor his family give a damn about the toxic mess they will leave behind. With the S.S. in the Whitehouse, we cannot wait for 2018 with the hope that democracy prevails.


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Sound Healing (It’s different than you might expect.)

Yesterday I was awoken from a nap by the sound of a man grunting loudly as if he was charging up a hill in battle and running a bayonet through someone. It was timed in intervals and showed no signs of stopping. I was annoyed, but turned it into something creative as I grabbed my handy Zoom H4N recorder and headed across the street. I pushed record on my way there so that I could capture the sound for a future student project whereby one needed loud and painful grunts to sound design a war scene. As I approached, I discovered that the grunts were coming from the tennis courts!

I stood by the chain-link fence with my recorder out and the players stopped to stare at me wondering, I’m sure, what on earth I was doing. So, I introduced myself and told them that I teach audio at CCSF in the BEMA department and I wanted the sound of the grunting for a future television or film project for my students. They both laughed aloud when they heard that I had likened them to shouts on a battlefield. Unfortunately, they were wrapping up but they did one more round just for me.  These grunts were 50% of what I had heard previously, but they still worked for my recording.

This is what I captured! I call it Sound Healing because I turned my annoyance into something positive and I’m sure that the grunter finds his shouts healing for himself. I mean, who doesn’t wake up every morning in this Brave New World of 45 and his tribe and not want to swat a ball around and grunt loudly?

Inner Game of Tennis     Inner Game of Tennis SHOUT

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