Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I think of the dead
and the songs once played
and of how I came to this place
beyond you

where the season turns underneath
where the traffic flies over the roads
where, ahead of the storm,
the wind whistles wildly
thru my window screens

Civilization is the tension between the wild and the common good. The common good cannot rule without the wild. The wild will not be ruled by any law other than its own. All history is proof of man's sad & rapid descent into civilization. Cro-Magnon knew this, could see it ahead of him & left messages in earthen paint to remind us of what we were & would always continue to be. The ice age megafauna is long gone but the hunter remains. The ancestors knew the truth that our domestication of the wild grasses for grain would not free us but bring a slavery greater & infinitely more brutal than the need of hungry mouths for a bit of meat. Grain's promise of a stable food supply would bring war on a massive never ending scale greater than anything mankind had ever known. War would go from ritual to ritualized commerce. As the Gazans say as they rebuild their shattered tunnels; "The money is too good." Cro-Magnon's mother was the wild and his father was immaculate imagination. His paintings haunt us with the notion that while his life may or may not have been short, his world was clean, & in the face of a constant threat of starvation, he played. He painted. He hunted. We are his sons & daughters & we have been lost in the woods for ten thousand years.
Father, give us this day our daily bread
& forgive us our sins as we forgive those
who sin against us.
Amen

I got my shoes
I got my blues
There's no such thing as rain
the sky just cries for all the lies
and the world goes 'round again

one day gonna take a walk
way out in the grass
gonna lay me down and that's
where I'll be when
I close my eyes at last

won't need my shoes
won't need my blues
won't need the sky or rain
won't need to lie won't need to cry
when I open my eyes again

Water spirit springing springing round my head
makes me feel glad that I'm not dead ...

Me too Mr Mingo
so grateful for this gift of life

"If the only prayer you say in your life is 'thank you,' that would suffice."
-- Meister Eckhart

I hear that Jack. I've done a lot of bitchin' moanin' & whinin' along the way & added more than my share to the general fund of senselessness & foolishness but at this juncture, if anyone were to ask me I'd have to say I'm glad about some things & sorry about others and wouldn't change a thing in between. I look ahead in hope & assurance that when I'm standing at the head of the valley I'll be reaching out for the hand that was pierced for me. He said He would be there so that I should fear no evil and we'll make the crossing together. I don't know what's on the other side of that valley, Jack. The Scripture says that the mind of man has not & cannot conceive of what God has prepared for those that love Him. I believe I do well to take Him at His Word. And I'm glad that I know you Jack, and everyone else that I have met here. Ain't that the mile marker up ahead? Lets get on with it >>>>>>>>>>>>

I owe Jesus a good night's sleep.

I can't turn my back on that.

It is different for me mingo

Jesus is cool with me

I just don't want no truck with his father.

You know how I feel about Him (the patriarchal god of the judeo-christian-islamic world) by now.

I believe in a God, just not that one.

And my personal Jesus smiles much more than he weeps.
I pick up my cross and follow Sisyphus

"God is the sense the world makes without God"

I could not say it any better

Carry on ming

I am a crazy old fucking fool


I should probably not post this.

But my conscience won't let me let it slide.

Did you read Hester's new poem
Nuh uh

I did catch Hester's poem, Jack. Don't it make ya wanna dance?

Country music was never my favorite cup of mud but I learned something from it for which I'll be forever grateful. A good slide guitar & pedal steel man never lets you down.

Carlos Santana never let you down either.
Samba Pa Ti.

You can wake up in the morning and not be yourself right away.

I've some flavored coffee here. I do not now nor have I ever favored flavored coffee. I like mine straight up without any foolishness. But due to recent & on-going events that effect the woman of the house she has been unable (& no fault is being cast here) to take care of things as usual. So I have been thrown on my old scavenging ways the last few days. That's how I ended up this morning with flavored coffee. I like the hunter-gathering deal, always have. You just have to realize that it goes with the territory that some days will be better than others.

The sun is heading south these days. Autumn always tends to bring one up to speed.

One of the attributes of death that hardly makes the conversation is that many items of cherished foolishness begin to be sloughed off and are left by the wayside without a backward look. I think it's a kind of cleansing of the things of this world that will not be needed up ahead.

There was a note on my 'puter this morning when I got downstairs. It goes:

Hi Hon,
If you want
to get your check
and drop it off
I'll cash it on
the way home

Love & miss you

For the most part the erotic, & eroticism in general, is much misunderstood. For myself at the present time there isn't anything more erotic to beat coming downstairs in the morning
& finding a note on a 3 x 5 piece of paper that begins with "Hi Hon,"
O Baby, who's your Daddy?

bingo, mingo! (as Soo wrote) this picture (9.18:10:35) is a knock out... a step ahead...