La Verna

Anyone familiar with St. Francis of Assisi would probably think - oh, that hippie saint, barefoot walkin animal-whisperer. Yup thats the guy. Add stigmata to the list and you have one holy man. No joke though, I really do love him. A catholic rebel during his time, him and his ex girlfriend St. Clare revolutionizing prayer and devotion with heaps of LOVE, surrender, simpicity, co-habitation with mater natura and its creatures.

From La Verna

Chiesa dei Morti

This man was stabbed in the heart at a ball.

Church of the dead in Urbania. In the early 1600s the act of burying the dead wasn't a norm and generally poor people would simply be buried under the ground outside of the town. The mummified corpses featured here were of the outcasts, disfigured, sick, poor or unidentified and they lay to rest in a wild spot outside Urbania.

The Blind Assassin

I had to double check the spelling for assassin, I wasn't convinced there were 2 double "SS"s. But anyway, the book The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood is my latest and last read. I'm pretty proud of this feat after the growing stack of books with all sorts of paper, bookmark stickings - at least one can finally be released from the folding and inserting and be among the stuff I can pass on to whoever else.

Defence

I came across this argument: humans need to be exposed to a certain degree of harmful chemicals, toxic waste, etc to help raise their defences. as an animal, we often forget how amazingly adaptive our bodies are and as the environment changes over time, so do we. - well, I don't know if going back to smoking at this point will help raise my defences for an increasingly polluted world (but I do know that many can use that argument) however, I do remember how the europeans rendered the tribes a "lesser species" (look up eugenics) because of how they literally wiped them out by bringing western disease. while immunity is important, prevention is still better than cure. at this point, raising consciousness works as better defence than voluntarily swimming in the muck.
or should we all just jump in?

honesty and choosing which bits matter

For a while in the blog-sphere it was all about honesty and just being brutally in your face, the truth as it escapes from your gut whether as bile or smoke or smut (hey that rhymes). and just leaving it out there like some kind of conceptual art - pay no heed as to what damage it might cause to tender souls raised with tact and if it does invite a tear or two, or better yet - shock the bejeezus out of em', all the better.

Then and now

a year (and bit more) ago I was on fire. I was literally burning everywhere and cracking and flaming and I couldn't keep from being some kind of torch. I felt all together, my guts stayed close and I used it often. I was a wolf, enjoyed my time alone and with others, rough and catching for signs, smells, links that would end up woven into some kind of song, image, dance, poetry - there was no lack of it, I felt blessed.

these days I can't even pick up the guitar and play something that makes my heart race. or sing without thinking. my body seems strange and sometimes distant, I bend and it hurts, I extend an arm and feel the weight of gravity. I write something and then abandon it without feeling. I'm not burning as I was. maybe I'm hibernating? maybe I've become an oven and at the moment I'm busy baking something.. There's a growing bump in my belly and its not because of Italian "mangia". Whatever's inside it is burning, kicking, growing like something I cannot fully imagine. Independent yet always listening, sometimes it feels like we're both looking at each other wondering about the other. Who are you and what brought us together?

Rethink Moneh

Bloody Moneh.

Its over-rated, dirty, criminal, secret love affair, eeeevviiilll... or so they say.

Freelancers of the artist kind understand that under-paid and bleeding is how it ought to be, like a sexy non-commital drifter. No battle scars meant ZOMBIE SLAVE TO THE MAN.

The Glass Eye Maker

A nice break from work is looking into other people's work. How nutty to imagine doing one single thing, master it and work it for 30 years. Its so atopic at this age that anyone left doing this kind of monk-like vocation stand like true gems against the mass of changelings. I'm not saying they should be worshipped, just admired even from afar. At least, allow their life testament to disturb you enough to consider other possibilities. Note to self.

Now lets get back to The Blind Assassin.

Peter o'Toole is so cool. Omar Sharif is the chief.

I'm not a clean freak. No, I guess I thrive in an environment thats not exactly in order, may seem chaotic for most people but it works for me. Coming into terms with the less attractive aspects of myself isn't my cup of tea, but as the days turned months just slowly moved past me - a growing lump on my throat from all the challenges/projects I took on last year that now demand completion, I am really and certainly not in order.