Adventure waits in the dark cold

Icy winds of approaching winter become me, beckon me to dance myself warm while the kettle boils for one more cup of tea. Adventure waits in the dark cold, reserved for us with inner heat.

Ever new bliss is really the way to go.

Feeling good, looking to stretch that vibration.....stretching....stretching...ooo it feel so damn wonderful.....stretching...can barely take the whelming wonderfulness...ha ha ha... that tickles....hee hee ho ho hoo hoo, whoo hoo hee haw.

let's party

EPMD @ Club 6 in October Rain

Wowie zowie this night sparkles in the rain. What a great night, for all the right reasons. Met one of my brothers and his girlfriend at Club 6 to see EPMD, the legendary rappers. I got a call from my dear friend Anjeni while parking my car, and it turned out that her plan with her couple friends wasn't working out, so spontaneously, at the last minute, she shows up with her buddy Manjou and her osteopath mentor/boss. It was shaping up to be a fine fun night anyway, but when those lovely osteopaths and Manjou, who compliments them well because he's an acupunturist, showed up the dance party blew up bigger than life. We were wild, we were crazy, we knocked into people, Anjeni and I bumped knees as hard as I've ever bumped knees with anyone. We danced upstairs, downstairs, I danced in the rain in the smoking pen, we watched the too-cool-for-words break dancers upstairs, they went off. I had so much fun that I gave a homeless guy paper money when he asked me for it after the show, which I don't do except when in full celebration mode.

Anjeni & her entourage split, which left me to join my brother & his girl for a tasty breakfast of waffles, eggs, and bacon at Mel's Diner at Mission & 5th St. And I'm still in a good mood, so thankful for the unexpected night of dancing with some crazy good dancers. It rocked, way-way-sha-nay-nay-way-hay-eh.

Dance? No, run!

Always something new, and another forgotten memory awakened when it comes to raising children. Same way with life deep down in a dungeon or a mine, come to think of it, but more in your face up here in the sunshine. I taught 12-month old Gumba to smell roses. It took three days, one lesson/day. The first day she mostly watched, maybe moved her head toward the large lavender rose slightly, tried to grab and eat it. The second day she moved her head toward the rose, and then tried to lick it. The third day she swung her body forward, lifted her nose slightly, put her eyes at half mast and inhaled deeply, like on a Hallmark card. How wonderful is that? Roses will ever smell sweeter.

I had the boom box cranked up on the rear deck, and was heading into the house for a quick breather. Gumbo, almost four now, had been watching me dance to the Mixtress' crazy break beats from his upstairs bedroom window, and grabbed me as I came in. "Let's go back outside Daddy, let's go."

I smiled down at him, "You want to dance?"

"No. I want to run!"

So we set into running in tight circles on the deck in our bare feet, to the tune of an 11-minute version of Sugar Magnolia (Dick's Picks Volume 14). The fun and hollering caught the attention of Gumba, who I quickly picked up and tucked under my arm like a football. We ran and ran until we were all out of breath, and then ran more. As the Grateful Dead are want to do, the song had a complete silence in it for a time, three minutes before the actual end. We thought it was over, and so when it started up again at the beginning it made me laugh, and we all had to keep running to the bitter end or accept defeat. Ever since her time that day as a football, Gumba has put her outside arm forward when I carry her, like she's flying or pointing, waving if we pass people. That gives me that feeling that I'm flying when I walk with her, makes me walk faster. "Up, up, and away".

Remembering Present Lives

"Often people claim to remember past lives; I claim to remember a different, a very different, present life." --Philip K. Dick, September 24th, 1977

Call me schizo, but I too sense parallel lives, all around me, and like that guy in Fight Club, am quite underslept.

Mike and Ann threw a heck of a party last Saturday night. They whipped up some special fuel mixture and busted out the fire toys. I got to try the flaming bullwhip - extraordinary. Ann gave an awesome performance with the fire bolos in her special long leather fire-dancing dress, then she wowed us with the flaming finger extensions. Fuck hell I love fire.

They had a full DJ setup downstairs too. Fuck hell I love dancing.

Some friends I hadn't seen for years were in from out of town, and we carried on like reunited brothers after the war. Fuck hell I love old friends.

Put four solid hours in on the road bike before going out. Laurent and I rode from Orinda BART past San Pablo Reservoir, out through Pinole to refinery land, under the Carquinez Bridge, past Port Costa, up McKewan Road to Franklin Road to Martinez, back along Alhambra Valley Road, rode the Bears past Briones, which brought us back to Orinda. The cows and their fluffy calves were way cool, Jerseys, Herefords, Black Angus, other wild looking kinds. The goats were amazing too. Fuck hell I love biking.