Sunday, November 1, 2009

Dont stop!


Absence makes the heart grow fond?

The true student of life stumbles but never falls?

The real artist is not merely a professional salesman.

Embracing the many false masks and then setting them down.

Not afraid to be in the moment with what is.

Just continue let the past be past and future be future
dont worry.

What have you got to loose or gain but illusions and truths.

So I paint. I hate myself and I meditate and I love myself and the universe.
I paint and I love every breath and molecule. I meditate and feel nothing. This is not a problem.
It is a puzzle perhaps. But like a crossword I can put it down and not be beside myself.
Not torture myself for next weeks answers from some invisible mastermind. whose games I am reduced to playing.
Not do I need to claim to be the mastermind who has authored
my existence with great aplomb.

I am just going on being and adjusting my sails.
Feeling the wind.
The sun the waves and tides.
But not even just that for we sale in spirals.

we cry and rage against our thoughts and despair and petty pains and inconveniences
like feudal kings or desperados.

take bake my child like joy from the buzzards of judgement
always circling waiting for one to break down and die of heart break on the road
with their vicious I told you so's
and your not better than me.

But the fool dances on
emperors' new clothes or not
in drag but not dragging.

Not in measured steps not wildly just
naturally

unselfconsciously
aware
at ease

like a deer in the woods

unseen unheard

unknown

unbounded



Saturday, October 10, 2009

Afternoon pages poolside Anna Maria Island 7.26.09



Well finally getting off the hook and on line out here on Anna Maria Island.
No Not because things are that remote.
despite the end of earth feeling of hours on the beach in yogic bliss

But vibes here are in the swim by the pool.
Although I could go with a some "coolibah" shade
Towel canopy will do.

Kicken' back on the laptop Bob and Stevie etc " No Woman No Cry""Sir Duke" "Dock of the Bay"
surrounded by the cougar yoginis of serenity stream!

Hot Fresh brick Paversunderfoot
lots of bright white shellgravel everywhere.

Battery fading...time to log off........into the sunset.

Ciao Peace Brothers and Sistahs and gentle people of the webverse!

! Om Mani Pemme Hum.!!!

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

This Precious Life

If I can contemplate how fortunate I am to have this precious life
to work on accomplishing my own and others happiness
how rare how great!

It is easy to take for granted.

So easy to take for granted
so many precious resources
we require to survive and be happy
water
food
air
the earth itself

our homes and clothes
and cars
and computers
electricity
roads

family
friends
pets and all animals
that have there important role
to play in natures
balance

the seasons
the vast ocean
clouds
rain

all the libraries of knowledge
the laughter of children
the smile of the elderly

our own breath
that connects all these
precious things

Monday, September 28, 2009

Back In the Studio








How hard it is just to let go and let be and do what is right in front of youHow many lifetimes minutes in just this day week month year has it taken just to get to this point
a threshold
a stage
a scene
a picture plane
a roadside
a gallery
a store
a labratory
a museum
a feel good place
a room
a spot
a niche
a garrett

Raga surges
sitar bites acerbic plaintive notes into the thrumm of tabla drum
thum tAK TAK TumbS
AND THE FLUTE WAShES OVER WITH SILKY light
sitar dances like a snake in the cool grass
head and eyes in rapture
beyond hope beyond fear
beyond beyond

and simultaneously even more here at hand


Thursday, September 17, 2009

The Eye: Older Blog Still Open

http://thirdeyegallery.tripod.com/themuse/

To flashback to original blogposts over a year ago!

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Afghan 'Indiana Jones' hunts lost Bamiyan statue

Afghan 'Indiana Jones' hunts lost Bamiyan statue

Lyse Doucet meets the man on the trail of the legendary lost Buddha

Lyse Doucet
BBC Newsnight, Bamiyan

Dr Zemaryalai Tarzi is an Afghan with a big dream. To be exact, this archaeologist dreams of a giant - a 1,000ft (300 metre) sleeping Buddha.

Try to imagine a stone statue reclining across the length of three football fields.

Destroyed Bamiyan Buddha
A Buddhist civilisation once flourished in Afghanistan's central highlands

But it is more than a dream. Dr Tarzi is trying to make it a reality.

"At first, people told me I must be mad," he recounted, barely concealing a smile, as we stood at his excavation in the midst of potato fields in the ancient Afghan city of Bamiyan.

"An archaeologist needs proof. We need to keep searching."

Dr Tarzi, who has been mapping the landscape of Bamiyan for 40 years, is renowned world-wide for his knowledge of the Buddhist civilisation that flourished centuries ago in the central highlands of Afghanistan.

Bamiyan was a storied destination for travellers journeying on the Silk Road between East and West.

Ancient text

In the 7th Century, a Chinese pilgrim, Xuan Zang, marvelled at a colossal reclining statue: "To the east of the city there is a monastery in which there is a figure of Buddha lying in a sleeping position, as when he attained nirvana. The figure is in length about 1,000 feet."

Hole where a Bamiyan giant Buddha once stood
The Taliban destroyed the giant statues leaving just a hole where they stood

His detailed journal piqued Dr Tarzi's curiosity.

It read like tantalising proof because Xuan Zang also wrote with passion, and precision, of two magnificent stone Buddhas which stood guard over the valley.

The Taliban smashed those statues, the world's largest standing Buddhas, in 2001, denouncing them as un-Islamic idols.

That gave further fuel to Dr Tarzi's drive to find the third Buddha. It was an archaeologist's revenge.

"A country's history cannot be destroyed," he fumed.

I first visited Dr Tarzi in 2005, during the summer months he spends at the dig.

It was hard not to find myself willing him to succeed. He confessed, his voice breaking, he still could not bear to look at the gaping niches in the stone cliffs towering over the place where he was working.

Stunning finds

He is still there, looking for all the world like an Afghan Indiana Jones of the epic films, with his chino apparel, floppy hat, and air of scholarly adventure.

Dr Tarzi and Lyse Doucet at Bamiyan
Dr Tarzi demonstrates the repose of a sleeping Buddha statue

The earthen cavities are hives of activity. Afghan archaeologists trained by Dr Tarzi and French colleagues from Strasbourg University gently tap picks and trowels in the dust and dirt, backed up by a small legion of labourers.

His team's diligent search for hidden treasures has yielded a stunning array of stone remnants from the remains of Buddhist monasteries - small feet from statues, chiselled folds of monastic robes, sacred stupas.

Then, last November, a cry of excitement rang out across this verdant valley. At last, a sleeping Buddha had surfaced.

But it was not the fabled giant. Their persistent digging had uncovered fragments of a reclining figure estimated to be 62 feet (19 metres) long. One hand protruded visibly, without a thumb. The head was destroyed.

Bigger prize

It was still hard for a novice to visualise.

Dr Tarzi gave it his best, stretching himself sideways along a flat hard surface, one hand tucked neatly under his head. Indiana Jones could have done no better.

I ask whether this smaller statue may be all there is. It is, after all, a wonderful find.

Archaeologists working at Bamiyan
Afghans trained by Dr Tarzi work alongside students from Strasbourg

"I will persist," the sprightly 70-year-old declared with a firm shake of his head. He guided us to another area running along the foot of the sandstone cliffs where he believes a much bigger Buddha still lies sleeping.

Dr Tarzi does not want this remarkable history to be forgotten.

In the middle of the day, when a hot sun blazes in the sky, he teaches a master class for young Afghans training to be tour guides at an eco-tourism centre set up with the help of the Aga Khan Foundation.

Bamiyan is one of the few places in Afghanistan now safe enough to dream of tourists too.

Playing the role of a would be tourist, I asked enthusiastic students to convince me to visit.

"Welcome to Bamiyan, historical place, safe for tourists," was the practised but heartfelt reply of an earnest bespectacled woman.

An older male student shouted from the back row, "Bamiyan is exceptional in Afghanistan".

All the students nodded in agreement.

When darkness descended, Dr Tarzi was honoured at a musical evening attended by a gathering of Bamiyan residents who wish him every success. A trio of musicians sang of destroyed Buddhas that are still very much alive.

The legend of a giant still lives in Bamiyan. He has slept through centuries of conquest, a quarter century of war, and the end of Taliban rule.

If he ever wakes, it would be a dream come true for Dr Tarzi, and countless other Afghans with their own dreams of a lost past and a brighter better future.

Watch Lyse Doucet's film in full on Newsnight on Thursday 10 September 2009 at 10.30pm on BBC Two, then afterward on the BBC iPlayer and Newsnight website.

Letter to a friend about Travel in Nepal
















Yes there is a lot to say about Nepal but when I went in 04. You just get a tourist visa at the Tribhuvan airport as you check through customs. Usually 30 days and then you extend it as needed up to 5 months. I assume it is the same but better to double check. Also you can get a much better exchange rate for your money in town from black market money changers. It is a common practice and I did it with out any worries. It is best if you have cash$100 bills for best rate but travelers checks are ok I didn't bother because I am careful with my money and locked my suitcase or baggage or had money belt. I never had any problem but sometimes westerners get targeted. But don't worry too much. just be mindful of your purse wallet etc! esp. in crowd or bus. It is always important to haggle and find a fair price! Ask locals what the going rate is and just be friendly but firm and go to another cab or whatever if they don't meet you at least half way! You can always give a small tip after for good service! I tried to develop relationships with the best grocer, barber, restaurant, butter lamps, beggars,cabs etc it is like being a bit of a big shot but if you aren't rude about it it is ok. Always try to get small change bills this is like the monopoly money game and it gives you bargaining leverage because if you don't have it then they will say sorry no change and you have to pay more or else waste time haggling down another guy. so have to pockets and dont be flashy so they will not be upset and think you are not a rich westerner but a dharma pilgrim :)


Look to rent a room or an apartment for a month is cheaper than a hotel at a daily rate! Everything is cheaper if you ask and agree to stay longer or make it easier for them. Have a cab wait for a round trip if you are only going a short stop or take the local mini bus if you don't mind crowds and have time to go native. Always ask directions of people who are not going to want to become your tour guide unless you want one! Ask old women not young boys! Be careful to only drink boiled or bottled water and no street food unless you are very sure or brave. Be aware that many Sadhus and locals will want money for photos some don't care but better to ask if they make eye contact often with just a gesture like camera is ok? Also people love to play the what country are you from guessing game. They also appreciate a few words in Nepali and Tibetan. bathrooms are few and fare between and clean ones are like an oasis in a dessert especially for women who don't want to squat over a filthy hole! So find them be it a restaurant or cafe and make friends with those people! So if you need it in transit somewhere you can pop in smile and they wont mind if you don't order something because you'll be back for your regular thukpa soup and big tip at diner etc. Book shops can be quite good for certain publishings' of indian or malaysian tittles but western books will be the same or more expensive. Ask local ex-pats about everything and nod as if they are the most savvy person you ever met but then double check with many others to find out who really knows who to talk to and how much to pay and were to get etc.
Always double check all details before you strike a deal because once the money leaves your hand its not coming back short of an all day argument! Also don't appear to knowledgeable or to gullible its like a poker game there and everybody watches and talks about everybody its like a village which is good and bad. Bad for your privacy and wasting time gossiping but good in that you meet friends everywhere and they usually stop to say hello and compare news and even have tea. Don't take tea unless your prepared to spend some time and probably get a life story and perhaps a request for financial help! Also I found that people are less ecumenical over there. So I try to keep my Rime' mind set to myself unless in certain company. People want to know your root guru and if he is the same as theirs then great if not..then ok your not so cool. Anyway It is all good! You will have an amazing time it is so inspiring and photogenic and rich and diverse and unpredictible and you will meet amazing people and make lots of life long friends even if you only see them once or twice you will always remember their warmth and humor and the smells and sights etc etc! I love that place! Oh and don't neglect to visit some of the Hindu holy places even if your Buddhist friends look askance! Pashupatinath cremation ghats are very special and there is a naropa cave down by the river and so many little shrines and rock emanations! Also You must promise me that you will take the couple hour bus ride to Guru Rinpoche cave in Pharping or Yangleshu as tibetans call it! Its a great day trip leave in the morning from the bus park with a friend or two and enjoy the drive out of the smoggy valley into the clear mountain air you will feel a weight lift off your shoulders! You may have deep stirrings of dharma thoughts like I want to spend my last days here practicing or I was a hermit here in some life or Ahh the holy Himalayas Im home and such things all to the happy din of hindi bus driver music and bus horns and local people with there BO and chickens and beautiful saris and magical glint in there eyes! Also I recommend Namo Buddha as a nice day trip where the buddha offered himself to the pregnant tigress in a previous life! Also good day trips and half day trips to Changyu Naryan and nagi Gompa the nunnery up there is inspiring and of Course Ani Choying in Pharping at Arya tara nunnery. Lovely nuns who I volunteered and taught some art! Bhaktapur is like a living museum and how nepal was at its golden age of architecture! It is a bit of a tourist trap expense wise but I think it is worth it for everyone to go once because it is spending rupees for a once in a lifetime thing. I spent the night there which people usualy dont due but if you haggle you can get a fair price and be hosted by the family guest house complete with meals. so if you have time you must do this and the main thing is to walk around at dusk in Bhaktapur because you have no cars and motorcycles and street lamps and blaring disco so it is like going back in time to when it was the age of the buddha or something and just a quiet threshing and pottery town the water wells the cows the villagers a different pace of life! I will always remember this night! then to come home at dark so my host wouldn't worry to tea and some meditation with one candle inthe old wooden house and windows my mosquito coil for insence and my mantras vibrating like the earth itself and the calm clear meditation like the sky ornamented with the sunset and stars! Ahhh !!!
Of course you will wake up early!!! to puja bells and people clearing their throats and rolling up the metal shutters on their shop fronts like a cacophony of maras! and only after a few precious hours of sleep when the street dogs werent wailing and barking and howling! Yes earplugs helps but somehow it is just easier to get used to it and the rooster crows and the sense that the whole valley is waking up at once! People getting up to pray and make offerings and pursue their livliehoods like they have for thousands of years and now little girls going to school in their bright clean yellow and blue and white uniforms little scarves and ties and big square book bags and old people walkin them hand in hand and the splashing of water to keep the dust down and sweeping the store fronts and sacred cows in the middle of it all chewing their cudds' and insence wafting and eyes staring and glancing so as not to get run over in the narrow streets!

Ok Offer a big butter lamp for me and a prayer for all sentient beings!
and spin those giant prayer wheels!!!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Where is the Love?


Where is the love?
Where is the wine?
Do I sit back
waiting for my vineyards to ripen,
cows to bellow,
flocks to lay,
cheese to curdle,
roses to bloom,
hay to harvest,
wood to split,
Ashes to sift?

Where is spiritual poem
that will flow into
all cups
and
spill over into
all walks of life?

How to make better questions
for the Lama Guru
Deity Mother of Wisdom Womb
Open fist of truth?

Friday, September 4, 2009

With Explosions of Color, Tibetan Art Flourishes

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/30/world/asia/30sengeshong.html

SENGESHONG, China — Sitting on the floor of his monastic chamber, Lobsang Lungtok pointed to the canvas with the thousand-faced goddess.

Shiho Fukada for The New York Times

A painted scroll.

Shiho Fukada for The New York Times

Lobsang Lungtok works 10 to 12 hours a day in his monastery in Sengeshong, in China’s Qinhai Province, an area famed for its thangkas, or painted scrolls, depicting Tibetan deities.

The New York Times

The valley outside Rebkong is a center of Tibetan art.

It had taken him three months to finish the painting. Her many faces, all gold, were stacked atop one another in a pyramid. A thousand arms fanned out in a radiant circle.

There are rules, he said, that have been handed down from one Tibetan painter to another through the centuries: The head and body must be perfectly proportioned; the gold paint goes on after the pencil outline; this particular deity has a thousand faces and a thousand arms — no more, no less.

Out of that had emerged Chenresig, the bodhisattva of compassion.

“Why do we draw this god?” said Lobsang, 33, who, like many Tibetans, goes by his given name. “If we don’t, in the future how will people know what the gods look like?”

The monasteries in this mountain valley are some of the most important centers of art in the Tibetan world, famed for the creation of painted and cloth scrolls called thangkas that depict Tibetan gods and other religious iconography. In 1999, artists in the area finished the 675-yard-long Great Thangka, which Guinness World Records certified as the biggest thangka in the world.

The artists here practice the Rebkong style of thangka painting that has flourished since the 17th century. Thangkas from this part of northwestern Qinghai Province are commissioned by monasteries as far away as Lhasa, the Tibetan capital. In recent years, thangkas have gained a following among some ethnic Han Chinese, and individual collectors from Chinese cities and foreign countries have driven up the prices. (For his painting of Chenresig, Lobsang was asking 3,600 yuan, or about $530, a fortune for most Tibetans.)

The commercialization will “drive thangkas far from their origins, from their use as religious objects,” said Zhang Yasha, a teacher of fine arts at the Minzu University of China who specializes in Tibet. “We see more young people learning the art because it’s lucrative.”

The paintings hanging in the back room of Lobsang’s chamber show the range of traditional thangka subjects: Gods like Padmasambhava and White Tara and Green Tara, and the circle of life with people reclining in heaven and roasting in hell.

The thangkas are explosions of color. The paint powder comes from grinding materials like coral, agate, sapphire, pearl and gold.

Of the monks in the two monasteries in Sengeshong, about 60 can paint with some skill, said Lobsang, a compact, cheerful, Red Bull-drinking man who entered the monastery at age 7 and began studying thangka painting seven years later.

“There are only a few good ones, and a lot of ordinary ones,” he said of the painters.

This valley outside the town of Rebkong, known in Chinese as Tongren, offers the kind of isolation that artists often crave. The upper monastery is set against snow-covered hills. The sweet smell of juniper incense drifts through the air. On a recent afternoon, a steady drumbeat emanated from the dark recesses of the main temple, while dozens of monks sat on the temple steps wiping brass yak butter lamps.

Lobsang’s chamber is plush compared to rooms at other Tibetan monasteries. The carpeted living area has a central stove and a framed portrait of the Dalai Lama, the exiled spiritual leader of the Tibetans. There is a photograph of Lobsang standing in his red robes in front of the Shanghai skyline; he lived for five years in Shanghai and Beijing painting thangkas for a businessman.

A safe in the rear room contains some of Lobsang’s more expensive thangkas. The front wall of the foyer has wide glass windows, and it is in this sun-drenched space that Lobsang paints during the winter.

Skilled thangka and mural painters are valued across Tibet, with artists sometimes traveling thousands of miles to do commissions for prominent monasteries. Many monasteries and temples were destroyed or sacked during the Cultural Revolution, and those that have begun rebuilding are in need of painters.

“That’s meant the painters of Rebkong are wealthy compared to other groups in Tibetan society,” said Mark Stevenson, a senior lecturer in Asian studies at Victoria University in Melbourne, Australia, who has studied the painting community here.

Painting thangkas is simply one component of an array of artistic skills among monks, Dr. Stevenson said.

“Every monk has a need for artistic talent,” he said. “They make and assemble tormas, which are offering cakes. Many may have to work on mandalas as well. This is part of being a monk. Every monk needs some manual skill dexterity in designing ritual objects.”

The first monastery in the Rebkong area was founded at the start of the 14th century, when the Mongols ruled China and turned to Tibetan religious leaders to guide their practice of Buddhism. But the distinctive Rebkong school of painting, with its brighter colors and finer lines, did not emerge until the 17th century, when the Gelugpa sect became dominant. The Dalai Lama, believed to be the reincarnation of the thousand-faced Chenresig, belongs to this sect.

Rebkong achieved fame in modern times because it was home to several notable artists, in particular a monk named Shawu Tsering.

“Watching him paint was remarkable, as if the lines were already there, and he was just moving his hand to bring them forward,” Dr. Stevenson said. “It was just so effortless, and the skill and memory were there to allow him to do that.”

The art tradition here suffered a break from 1958 to 1978, when Chinese authorities shut down the monasteries, first during the suppression of a rebellion, then during the Cultural Revolution. Monks were persecuted. Shawu Tsering, for example, was forced to wear a dunce’s cap.

In the 1980s, the government opened up an art research institute in the town of Rebkong, eventually converting it into a gallery. The gallery supported local artists. After the revival of thangka painting, monks took up the art in large numbers again.

In warm weather, Lobsang sits in his front yard with a brush in hand, working 10 to 12 hours a day.

It is an art that he now teaches to others, some of them laypeople from nearby villages.

“We want them to transmit Buddhism,” he said. “We want them to teach people that the gods are kind.”

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Scope!

I have tuned in to your yearning for resolution, O Seeker. I know that your heart fervently wants the riddles to run their course, the mysteries to be revealed, the uncertainties to be quelled. And I have ransacked my imagination in search of what consolation I might provide to appease your quest for neat, simple truths. But what I have concluded, O In-Between One, is that any solutions I might try to offer you would not only be fake, but also counterproductive. What you actually need, I suspect, are not answers to your urgent questions, but rather, better questions; more precisely formulated questions; more ruthlessly honest questions. Dig deeper, please. Open wider. Think fatter.


Saturday, August 29, 2009

The Decades Roll


The decades roll
I look back
from 36
to 26
16 to 6

I am now sitting in A COMFORABLE GREENCOURDUROY chair
it is circular
concave like a satellite dish
It folds in half and has a green carrying case
I bought it at Target for 39 bucks

At 26 I would have been sitting in a different spot
maybe crosslegged on a bean bag meditation cushion
at a buddhist temple or retreat tent
weathering cold november nights
breath steaming
to keep the chill from the tip of my nose

or in the summer heat walking around a two story high golden reliquary monument
chanting the sacred sylables and watching my mind wander from past to present to future
in a slight of hand to keep my ever present yet ellusive core self concept intact by a constant soap opera like round of mental chatter and cognitive fabrications

At 16 still mushrooming out of adolescence with a vengence
the calm quiet bright eyed child
mutated like a buterfly into a lupa caterpillar and verging on larvae grub
that suddenly awoke to suburban enui and wanted to shock
the walls of social and personal compartmentalization

to wake up to complexitiy with the simple rages and naive lust and uncertainty
clear confusion and mistake making as a grand gesture of insolence

NOW i begin to think about the health of my aging parents and watch with
proud excitement at each new step my young nephews take
I am preparing to be married again next summer
and am settling into a very comfortable and reasonably appointed
home in the west central florida suburbs

unemployed
unencumbered
unhurried
underestimated
but not undone

Flute plays softly in the background
a fresh Himalayan breeze
blown across the dig-iverse
I must go witness the virtual
bloodshed
of community theater
from the distance of
an arm
and the breath
of the Rio Grande
Whatever that portends

Monday, August 24, 2009

Epic Writing Excerpts II-Moral Climax of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn



After watching the Robert Burns PBS documentary on Mark Twain I was very moved by this excerpt and the story of Aunt Rachel the ex-slave.

So I decided to re-read Huck Finn and start this new thread to this blog on Epic Writing. One of the key observations made was that the difference between American writing and the previous Euro-centric literature was the impact of "Space and Race" This places Huck and Jim at the epicenter of the birth of American literature.

In my search for images I have serendipitously encountered a blog by Neil Moore a modern day Oddesey on the Mississippi at http://flashriversafari.wordpress.com/2009/08/21/islands-in-the-stream/#comment-113

3. It was a close place. I took . . . up [the letter I’d written to Miss Watson], and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I’d got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself: “All right then, I’ll go to hell”—and tore it up. It was awful thoughts and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming.

These lines from Chapter XXXI describe the moral climax of the novel. The duke and the dauphin have sold Jim, who is being held in the Phelpses’ shed pending his return to his rightful owner. Thinking that life at home in St. Petersburg—even if it means Jim will still be a slave and Huck will be a captive of the Widow— would be better than his current state of peril far from home, Huck composes a letter to Miss Watson, telling her where Jim is. When Huck thinks of his friendship with Jim, however, and realizes that Jim will be sold down the river anyway, he decides to tear up the letter. The logical consequences of Huck’s action, rather than the lessons society has taught him, drive Huck. He decides that going to “hell,” if it means following his gut and not society’s hypocritical and cruel principles, is a better option than going to everyone else’s heaven. This moment of decision represents Huck’s true break with the world around him. At this point, Huck decides to help Jim escape slavery once and for all. Huck also realizes that he does not want to reenter the “sivilized” world: after all his experiences and moral development on the river, he wants to move on to the freedom of the West instead.

http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/huckfinn/quotes.html#explanation3

Epic Words-A Timeline of Great Writing. I. Gilgamesh

I thought this would be 
an interesting jumping 
off point for the exploration 
of Epic Writing. To compare and 
contrast with later ones.
Try to imagine the world 
that this was created out of
in 2000 BC approximately.

the address below will connect you with 
the extended text and commentary.

http://infomotions.com/etexts/gutenberg/dirs/1/1/0/0/11000/11000-8.htm
and http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/gilgamesh/quotes.html for quotes below.

Plot Overview

The epic’s prelude offers a general introduction to Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, who was two-thirds god and one-third man. He built magnificent ziggurats, or temple towers, surrounded his city with high walls, and laid out its orchards and fields. He was physically beautiful, immensely strong, and very wise. Although Gilgamesh was godlike in body and mind, he began his kingship as a cruel despot. He lorded over his subjects, raping any woman who struck his fancy, whether she was the wife of one of his warriors or the daughter of a nobleman. He accomplished his building projects with forced labor, and his exhausted subjects groaned under his oppression. The gods heard his subjects’ pleas and decided to keep Gilgamesh in check by creating a wild man named Enkidu, who was as magnificent as Gilgamesh. Enkidu became Gilgamesh’s great friend, and Gilgamesh’s heart was shattered when Enkidu died of an illness inflicted by the gods. Gilgamesh then traveled to the edge of the world and learned about the days before the deluge and other secrets of the gods, and he recorded them on stone tablets.

Important Quotations Explained


2. What could I offer

the queen of love in return, who lacks nothing at all?
Balm for the body? The food and drink of the gods?

I have nothing to give to her who lacks nothing at all.
You are the door through which the cold gets in.

You are the fire that goes out. You are the pitch
that sticks to the hands of the one who carries the bucket.

You are the house that falls down. You are the shoe
that pinches the foot of the wearer. The ill-made wall

that buckles when time has gone by. The leaky
water skin soaking the water skin carrier.
—Tablet VI

4. As for you, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full,

Make merry day and night.
Of each day make a feast of rejoicing.
Day and night dance and play!
Let your garments be sparkling fresh,
Your head be washed; bathe in water.
Pay heed to a little one that holds on to your hand,
Let a spouse delight in your bosom.
—Tablet X

5. And so they traveled until they reached Uruk.
There Gilgamesh the king said to the boatman:

“Study the brickwork, study the fortification;
climb the ancient staircase to the terrace;

study how it is made; from the terrace see
the planted and fallow fields, the ponds and orchards.

One league is the inner city, another league
is orchards; still another the fields beyond;

over there is the precinct of the temple. . . . ,
Three leagues and the temple precinct of Ishtar.”

Measure Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh
—Tablet XI


Sunday, August 23, 2009

morning pages 8.23.09


Time and time again
coming back to the moment
left off yesterday and not quite over
waiting for this and that and coffee
no urge for much
of anything
just percolating
toward tomorrow
the last day of summer

everything shifts gears
and the hamster wheel cranks up again
like a the cotton candy spinner
squeezes out the fun from green to blue and white
yellow artificial joy

I am just happy for toast
good toast if a bit dry
and the butter chunky
wanting nothing in particular
just wondering when the waves of desire
will turn tide and the storms
of emotion will turn back
for landfall

perhaps I will be in the
mountains by then
or in a cell
or just driving up the coast
to escape the bad paintings
and poems
that follow and the mediocre meditation
that always gives way to giddy statements or errant
questions and dull clock watching
smelling the incense as if that is all the difference

but its no fun getting down on oneself that just
the flip side of the same narcissistic coin
the common coin of our realm
I me mine and not
thou you yours

Feung sway mirrors
babbbling fountains
unread newspapers
unanswered messages
no schedule
to rot to grow
to fornicate
to garden, eat
fall asleep
wake, shower
change into
fresh clothes
or watch tv

never mind
talk of plans
and the
travels of
dreaming

let the dew drops fall or dangle

I want to dance...

Monday, August 17, 2009

"Just a little person" theme song lyrics from Synechdoche NYC


I'm just a little person,
One person in a sea
Of many little people
Who are not aware of me.

I do my little job
And live my little life,
Eat my little meals,
Miss my little kids and wife
And somewhere, maybe someday,
Maybe somewhere far away,
I'll find a second little person
who will look at me and say,
"I know you You're the one I've waited for.
Let's have some fun."

Life is precious every minute,
and more precious with you in it,
so let's have some fun
We'll take a road trip way out west.
You're the one I like the best.
I'm glad I've found you,
Like being around you
You're the one I like the best.

Somewhere, maybe someday,
Maybe somewhere far away,
I'll meet a second little person
And we'll go out and play.

written by jon brion, sung by deanna storey