quantum physics says
God becomes with our prayers
quantum physics says
quantum physics says
God becomes with our prayers
a coil of muscle
stretching the length of
the python of song
bass notes wrap and spiral
as guitar circle prey
the piano a calliope
confusion takes form
drummers raise pressure
burning one fuse
energy builds thick
tensions reach critical
but for you there
the darkness is now
in your tiny space
as your spirit takes flight
Reality lives on
the tip of a wish
my best intentions
Bring us to
Where we too
come into being
Forces tied to type
God is now
as God might be
This is why we have science and technology, and math, and shit that makes your cell phone work. The earth isn’t 5,000 years old, you navel-gazing, closed-minded, backward-assed, lost in the wilderness of Bible knowledge, fundamentalist motherfuckers.
The International Space Station’s 3-D printer completed the first phase of a NASA technology demonstration by printing a ratchet wrench.
— Read on www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/station/research/news/3Dratchet_wrench
After a really long, and stressful day, I wanted to watch something mindless and funny. It had been a while since I’d seen Back To The Future, it fit the bill, so I kicked back and put it on. Forget about the political crap at work. Who cares about the stupid Nunes memo.
And man, Huey Lewis was the epitome of 80’s music, huh?
Anyway, so there I am, watching this inconsequentially mindless movie, taking a momentary break from reality, when I see him… Donald Trump, again.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, a few years ago, Back To The Future writer, Bob Gale, confirmed that his inspiration for one of the all-time perfect movie ‘bullies‘, Biff from Back To The Future, was in fact Donald Trump.
So, again, the Mango Mussolini ends up on my TV screen. But not even the real one this time. No. Instead, I get the bad caricature of Donald Trump. The overly amplified parts; the bad hair combover, the condescending attitude, the insulting of anyone, and the treating of everyone like crap.
Seriously?! why? Why? WHY?! Why would anyone vote for someone like this? I mean Jesus Christ, Trump is such a heinous person that he was easily immortalized as the ultimate high school douchebag in the movies!
“Hello, hello, anybody home? Think, Nunes, think. I gotta have time to get this retyped. Do you realize what would happen if I release the memo in your handwriting? I’ll get impeached. You wouldn’t want that to happen would you? Would you?”
No, Donald. Not at All.
(tumbling along in Ginsberg’s wake, may he absolve me)
I saw the best friendships of my generation destroyed by politics,
raving partisan lunatic, filling the stark white streets with an anger they refused to see,
hicks and hipsters burning crosses and effigies to kick the political machines to one side,
rejuvenating poverty middle-class tattered to a blank-eyed smoking crater of cities contemplating sanctuary,
the minds of men interpret Jesus and Muhammad to illuminate their ideas and fears,
PC culture pauses on universities to keep the cold-stares fixed on the least civil of wars,
the expulsion of the crazy became the target of the right, they fight to relive the heyday of the white and obscene,
where they once cowered in plain sight lining their pockets with the scare of terror that funded their rape,
from Laredo to Los Angeles the 99 occupied their news in a nightmare of colored faces labelled with drugs that had been planted decades earlier,
as the storm cloud ceases motion and bids foreboding to the socialist Dem making more sense than cents,
filling the cemeteries with fentanyl no longer requiring the heroine dame to punch a clock,
alcohol’s predictive ways fell short of the final solution as they sought to seek the back doors,
the most private of prisons are lined with cake and cash heeding nobody’s needs and suck at the proletariat’s tax,
as Big Orange gets a sexy leg-up from Russia over Chinas migraine and Mexican walls,
thin lines of bleak light leak through false news to the social network happenings tweet tweet twist,
dancing on a pin and seeking sex wags the dog and cups his balls,
the implosion of decency fell from the tightrope held fast by the Gipper polished by the Peach puppet-master,
on and on I’ll Howl as Ginsberg did with no reparations coming, lost in the spokes of a tire spinning out of orbit,
forever feigning is the innocent and the ugly, forever tainted gold by the polished Tangerine, dream member dream, accountable to none
I’ve come to the conclusion that the stakes are so high in this election season, and the choices so polarizing, that the outcome will not be good no matter who is elected president.
The possibility that some form of internal strife breaking out in this country is all too real regardless of the election’s outcome. The rhetoric is ramping up on all sides, and the discourse is so jaded and threatening that the citizenry no longer sees it as a difference in policy and more as an assault on their very security.
Friend’s have begun to turn their backs on one another. Brothers and sisters are becoming estranged. Political banter is being taken as fact, and violence is now punctuating conviction.
The fact that in my life I would live to see American citizens physically assaulted because of their political beliefs tells me that, as a country, we are regressing. We have not learned the lessons of our own Civil War, or the struggles for Civil Rights. We have learned nothing from the Great Depression or the Great Recession. The era of the Robber Baron has returned with a vengeance and the redistribution of wealth through corporate welfare has created a pressure cooker between the classes as the buffer that used to be the middle class disintegrates. Nationalistic and fascist sentiments are beginning to take hold in a way that makes McCarthyism seem tame. Big government has always been partisan free under the surface, as the illusion of choices hides the solid core of corruption. Freedom of the press is undercut by their own partisanship and is being given the last rights by a candidate who threatens lawsuits if people report negatively on him. The threat of totalitarianism is so intense, yet the average voter is less likely to vote now than they were during the primaries because the major candidates have roughly the same approval ratings as W. did when leaving office during the Great Recession. One candidate likes to tell everyone that his opponent wants to abolish the Second Amendment so that don’t notice that he is systematically demonizing and ostracizing the press, and getting the citizens to buy into his narrative. Pressure cooker bombs are slowly knocking the election off of its axis in a slow play toward annihilation by fear and self-protection. And weekly communication hacks are making everyone more guarded, except those who never had a filter to begin with.
If I sound nihilistic, it’s only because I checked my hope at the door of a primary voting station, I sat back and watched the swill rise to the top through buffoonery, corruption and cronyism. We’re perched headlong over a bed of nails, each of which we drove in ourselves with every nitpick and special circumstances we felt we needed at the expense of those we disagreed with
This one’s for you.
No matter what, music helps. Today I needed a John Lee Hooker break. Check him out doing Boom Boom from the movie The Blues Brothers. Make sure to turn it up really loud!
I was lucky enough to see John Lee once during the summer of 1999 at Suffolk Downs in Boston at a festival called The Guinness Fleadh, before he finally moved on to the great gig in the sky.
It was a music lover’s dream of a festival with names like Van Morrison, Elvis Costello, Richard Thompson and John Lee Hooker and a ton more! The running joke days before the concert was whether or not Van Morrison would show, as he is known for just not playing when it doesn’t feel like it. True to form, he didn’t show. But for me, I couldn’t wait to see John Lee anyway. And as he was pushing 80 years of age I likely wouldn’t have another chance.
My friend Tom and I got right up front for his set so that when he came out we could see both of his teeth perfectly! He played great and it was worth every penny. Everyone in range of hearing the music was moving with the blues. He’s was a musician the likes of which we don’t see much anymore.
One thing that sticks in my mind from that day is that word had it that he was supposed to be introduced by legendary Boston DJ Charles Laquidara (a.k.a Dwayne Glasscock), but some promoter decided to screw Laquidara out of this once in a lifetime chance. It’s too bad to think that some yutz like me was able to be closer to that old legend than he was.
Anyway, take a minute to check out the video. I don’t think it’s possible to do so and not to move with the music. It’ll shoot you right down, knock you off of your feet… A-HOW HOW HOW HOW!
I am currently listening to a recording of a concert that marks the very last time I “got my freak on”. The phrase means different things to different people, so let me explain what I mean…
I’m a Dead Head. I have been for well over 30 years. I’ve spent my years on the road going from show to show. At any given time I sold shirts, or posters, or beer, or spaghetti, or the ever-present grilled cheese sandwich, all to finance my trip to the next show. Yes, my answering machine was full the day Jerry died. The first message on the tape was my mother calling to see how I was taking the news. For me, the saddest part of that day was not the realization that he had died (his health had been up and down for years, so we always knew it was going to be a relatively short ride), but it was more that an entire chapter of my life had just ended. There was going to be sounds, feelings, and epiphanies I would never get to experience again. There was entire groups of people I would lose touch with because we only saw each other at shows. There was also the huge loss of no longer being part of “the x-factor” again.
There was a synergy that came from being fully immersed in the experience at one of their shows. There was a something that would happen to you that didn’t happen to everyone, it wasn’t guaranteed. Some shows it would happen to lots of us at once. You would look over and suddenly make eye contact with a stranger at just the right time and both of you would grin from ear to ear, knowing that you both just felt it, and then you would go off on your own again… like everyone else. And that thing wouldn’t happen unless you were actually there, and it didn’t happen every night, or only during particular songs. And the band knew it too, they relied on it. And when the conditions were just right there was an electricity in the air that would join band and crowd, sound and emotion, mind and body and spirit, and all would become one, rising above our normal existence for a while. But you had to be there because you too were an important variable in this chaotic experiment. If you wanted to go there you couldn’t hold on too tight, you had to let go.
Describing the experience is impossible. There’s an old saying that goes something like “writing about music is like dancing about architecture”, and describing this experience is several orders of magnitude more abstract. But as far as I am concerned the actual experience itself is at least as many orders of magnitude more important because it helps us learn to open our minds. It also helps us remove the predisposed limitations we’ve been taught and learned throughout our life, so that we can begin to be able to see the possibilities that are only visible when we forget we’re supposed to have limits.
It seems that the closer we stick to our ego/self, the more tied we become to limitations like: time as a linear concept, acceptable and unacceptable or good and bad, as well as all of the basic limitations that keep us from exploring and looking around that one corner we think we shouldn’t look around. The further away we get from our ego/self, the less tethered we are to everything: time, space, limitations, all of the things we normally think of when we think of our experience as humans. Even the concept of time itself becomes irrelevant.
Think about it this way: Why is it that when I’m enjoying music, really getting in to it… eyes closed, head moving, just being transported with an evening of music from my favorite musician, that I can look up at the end of the music and realize that maybe hours have passed, but it literally felt like only a few minutes! It seems like that the more I lose myself in the moment, the more the moment ceases to be marked with a beginning or an end. Yet, if on the other hand, I am stuck listening to some crap while I’m waiting on the phone because Tech Support is experiencing “higher than normal call volume” it can literally seem like an eternity! Even though the support call might only have been 10 minutes, it seems twenty times longer than an entire evening of music that I love and can get lost in. The same idea can be said about daydreaming. I’m sitting in class and the teacher starts to drone on, the next thing I know the class is over, an hour has gone by, and I have no memory of the the experience. My mind was literally in another place and time, sorting through other ideas and projects. It left me, but yet I went with it. Where did I go? And how comes sometimes those trips are so creative or beneficial? Some of us were labelled daydreamers as children, and many times it’s those same people who end up the artists, musicians and philosophers. Or in other words, we’re the ones who naturally don’t think linear.
We know that time is our own experience, our own construct. That is to say, other creature on this earth experience time differently than us. For example, have you ever noticed that if you leave the house and come back 5 minutes, or even 5 hours later, your dog is just as crazy excited to see you either way? It’s as if their concept of time is completely different than ours and instead they are always in the moment (except dinner time… my dog starts pacing at exactly 5:30). For us, the idea of time is part of the basic package that comes with a mind. And just like the other items in that basic package, it can be undone or circumnavigated. That’s what Lamas and Yogis have been doing for centuries. But in their case they’re learning how to control it, slowly and methodically. But yet, without the years of mindfulness training, you and I can enjoy a small part of that experience by losing ourselves in music, and circumnavigating time. Albert Einstein recognized this felixibility of time in relation to the mind when he said “Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That’s relativity.”
So when I “got my freak on” at that show a few years ago it wasn’t a matter of “Where did the time go?”, it was more like “Where did I go without time?!” I truly wonder if isn’t at these instances that we dabble in a form of quantum travel. Especially since sometimes these experiences are so transformative that we literally come back a different person. As if I actually switched places with some other Dave who was also tripping through the quantum foam…