Playing chicken with the earthquake god

“By the way, you are no longer human.” He said this in a casual tone, which belied the watchful eyes hungry for reaction. But I did not even turn around.

This just is not the kind of thing one talks about with a strange ass dude in public. The crazy ole coot soon fell into the distance and the rest of his words became a muddy puddle.

“Climate change,” I thought to myself and I began to invoke another trip to the South Pacific where the waves are almost virginal compared to the oily ones I’d become abruptly reaccustomed to.

I decide to head over to my friend Skip’s hovel. He carved and then painted his abode underneath a huge boulder of which he sleeps directly beneath as if he’s playing chicken with the earthquake god. I poke my head into his foyer and let out my high-pitched signature whistle which there is no response to. I glance over and notice that Skip has added a big commode on the bench just inside the foyer. After careful inspection, I determine that it is both clean and not attached to any pipes. Skip has turned a shitter into a sculpture, go figure.

Oh yeah, by the way, Skip has stopped communicating using words. He speeks solely thru the addition and subtraction of color and object within his kiva home. Thus, when I see the big white porcelain toilet, surrounded by newspapers and magazines, I can’t help but think that Ole Skip might be feeling shit on or something. Call me crazy or a dime-store psychologist, don’t matter to me. Oh, and don’t worry, I didn’t use it.


Sometimes Skip is the sanest guy in the world just because he’s so contrary to it all, seemingly independent of so much that is required by most. I guess, if the world appears to have gone mad to you than maybe that’s how the world sees you but that don’t make it true.

Bardo Surfer sends applause to Raymond for contributing so much time and effort to the cause of getting clothing and blankets to a northern reservation.

Hoops

Suddenly, it seems as though the Moses half court Monday afternoon basketball game has taken on classic proportions. Last week’s games are still fresh in my mind. Bill, Arthur, Will and I were victorious in both games managing to stifle the athletic play of Ricky. Bill and I were kind of unstoppable. We’d give and go or just jump shot it in. I think Bill hit like 70% percent of his shots easily getting MVP for last week.

Today’s game is only 40 minutes away. I know Ricky’s here. I wonder who Bill may have invited this week. You actually never know. We used a handicapping system last week for the 2 dudes in their 70’s and 2 kids in their 9’s. Basically, Bill, Ricky, Tony and I were not allowed to defend anyone except ourselves. This freed the little ones up for one on one as well as one on one for the senior set.

Last Thursday, I finally bore down and thoroughly cleaned the dome. The previous night, I’d concluded that the thing I needed to do most in my life was vacuum the hell out of the dome. Initially, a vacuum did not present itself. Jason then grabs his shop vac which I utilize for the next 2 hours as I go for it on my hands and knees. Then, I get a ring from Dev: “I have a present for you: A vacuum.

“Cool, thanks a lot.”

I use the vacuum cleaner to go over everywhere again and am rewarded with a floor so clean that there’s a gleam.

We end up playing 2 on 2. It’s Benois and me against Ricky and Bill. They prove to be too tough a combo as they win all three games. Benois and I hang tough and keep it close but we are deficient in a few key areas that they are not.

The weather lately has me day dreaming about a nice little black convertible Eclipse. It has been a bit cold on the bike – especially at night. We have had a cold snap for the last week or so but soon enough the warmer weather shall arrive, it always does.

“The Daily Show” runs on CNN International outside the U.S.

In the past, I've been known to joke that "The Daily News is fast becoming my only source of news." Apparently, CNN International enjoys this fake news program as well.

Halliburton Wins Contract to Reconstruct Cheney's Reputation

Finally, the news makes sense.

A jaunt thru Skip land

At this time of year, the wash can be channeling water. For some reason or other, there's no water. We've only got a couple inches so far this year and this is not enough to get the creeks chuckling with the friction of water. So when I scamble over the rocks and boulders they are bone dry. I enjoy traveling along the water course for so many reasons but one of the ultra bounuses is that it allows me to see some of Skip's varous projects. He's got a bridge in the works. This one has been going for several months now. It wants to span the whole creek and stands 8 feet high in places. It is completely made with bare hands - Skip's hands and meant for walking only. It is surprisingly stable and maybe 25% completed.

Skip has another "project" which is located on one of the corners of the estate. When queried "Why here?" Skip quickly responded "Because this is where the stuff is."

For Skip, a pile of randomly collected pieces of lumber becomes a resource for him to explore shelter and structure. So now we have this structure in the corner now. This is basically Skip's form of inventory.

I stopped in Skip's hovel last night to find it lit up and sparkling from 20 candles or so placed in various nooks within the interior. The bath tub was steaming with hot water and his oven kept the air warm while outside the temperature slid and the wind howled. We ended up talking for 30 minutes or so. All I can remember is Skip telling me how much his curator, Linda, hates Dr Hyatt. Skip said something to the effect that the stuff Hyatt says can be such a threat to their belief structures that they have to shut the door completely any way they can.

Vacuum

Suddenly, it seems as though the Moses half court Monday afternoon basketball game has taken on classic proportions. Last week’s games are still fresh in my mind. Bill, Arthur, Will and I were victorious in both games managing to stifle the athletic play of Ricky. Bill and I were kind of unstoppable. We’d give and go or just jump shot it in. I think Bill hit like 70% percent of his shots easily getting MVP for last week.

Today’s game is only 40 minutes away. I know Ricky’s here. I wonder who Bill may have invited this week. You actually never know. We used a handicapping system last week for the 2 dudes in their 70’s and 2 kids in their 9’s. Basically, Bill, Ricky, Tony and I were not allowed to defend anyone except ourselves. This freed the little ones up for one on one as well as one on one for the senior set.

Last Thursday, I finally bore down and thoroughly cleaned the dome. The previous night, I’d concluded that the thing I needed to do most in my life was vacuum the hell out of the dome. Initially, a vacuum did not present itself. Jason then grabs his shop vac which I utilize for the next 2 hours as I go for it on my hands and knees. Then, I get a ring from Dev: “I have a present for you: A vacuum.

“Cool, thanks a lot.”

I use the vacuum cleaner to go over everywhere again and am rewarded with a floor so clean that there’s a gleam.

We end up playing 2 on 2. It’s Benois and me against Ricky and Bill. They prove to be too tough a combo as they win all three games. Benois and I hang tough and keep it close but we are deficient in a few key areas that they are not.

The weather lately has me day dreaming about a nice little black convertible Eclipse. It has been a bit cold on the bike – especially at night. We have had a cold snap for the last week or so but soon enough the warmer weather shall arrive, it always does.

Devin's birthday party

Out of the blue the call comes on a Wednesday afternoon: "Didj, this is Devin, its my birthday this Saturday and I want a party. Bill says we can use the yoga studio. I know its short notice but can you make it happen, can you run it. We need entertainment and people..." Bill then gets on the line and asks me to organize it.

It takes me no time to agree to the task. "Sure, I'll do it." And thus began the chain of events which culminated in last night's winter bash celebrating Devin's birthday.

Remmy was our DJ and he quickly established himself as a master spinner of the groovey dance vibe. The air vibrated with smooth seductive rhythms which spoke of our secret heart's desire. We all writhed and shook to the beats which swirled around us in mad mandalas and at times threatened to drown us in bliss.

And then, just when the crowd was exhaling and catching its collective breath, the live music began. Sundance on lead guitar, Brad on drums, Johnny on base and Bruce on guitar. These guys know how to rock and roll. They began their show seamlessly and with the stealth and grace of a mountain lion. Before we knew it they'd pearced thru the hazy film of maya using music as their ram and then we were on the other side.

Then, Ryan took over the bridge of the musical starship and piloted us into his little corner of the musical universe. Sunny stayed on guitar and I eased on over and supplied some vocals. I then grabbed a didj and opened up a small portal into the dreamtime which I watered with songs of devotion and grattitude.

We'd soon passed midnight and the voyage came to an abrubt end. Could have easily kept going and still be going now.

The end of one road

August 2000, Ojai, California

I have just returned to Ojai from L.A. I get laundry started, check out the net and then I'm off on my Stump Jumper to Rainbow Bridge. Of course Diana's there with Angela.

My energy closes up in my heart. All I can think is that I am not supposed to have any communication with this siren.

So she wants a hug and I am like: "I don't think that's a good idea." I've kind of shut down and talk softly with Angela and she's like: "I can't hear you." & "could you repeat that." Well, I'm just feeling pretty small and blocked because I am holding on to some resentment. They leave and that's that. So then I bike on back to the Eldarao digs and I am still kind of spun out. I practice the form and finally decide to break the silence and give her a call. Of course I get the answering machine so I just leave a messsage and just try to leave the door open cause all I'm doing is hurting myself. I hop on the Stump and bike up the road filled with power and endurance. I speed right up Main St and of course there's her wheels parked in front of video geek land island. I motor on back and head to the park. Back in the corner, there's a Shakespearian play going on. I know what that's about: betrayal, murder, infidelity, conflict, yeah the ole bard nailed human history to the stage.

Outside the shell area, I spy a tarot lady and sit with her. She advices me to do some kind of ceremony to bring in my power.

I shall right something on some bark found along the road tonight while walking Barney. This ole dog really outdid herself. I was a bit nervous as she ran around like a mad dog. Totally exhaused when we returned, huffing, puffing and leaving a string of drool.

Petrodollars and Nuclear Weapons Proliferation-Understanding the Planned Assault

Iran has been in the gun-sights of George W. Bush and his entourage from the moment that he was parachuted into the presidency in November 2000 by his father’s Supreme Court.

Draw a picture today

Draw something.

A prince that kissed a toad

When I look back on the way it was
Between you and me
All I seem to recall
Is the horrible things you said
Like a cat backed against the wall

You scratched out my eyes
And replaced them with stones
That you found in the dry riverbed all alone
Where you walked in the dark
Like a preying shark living on the demons you fed

I didn’t even pretend to see
Just leaned on you for everything
I didn’t even pretend to see
My world was you but it wasn’t free

There must have been times
When it was peace not war
When we loved each other forever more
When light passed between our eyes
And our breath released contented sighs

But I don’t seem to remember
Anything except the pain
That fell from heaven like acid rain
To water all the plants in hell
Leaving me this sordid tale

Is it my memory or my current mood that leads me down this road?
What really happened defies my reason
A prince that kissed a toad

You ripped off my ears
And replaced them with records
Of all the stories you told your self
I always listened but could not hide
The horror that I felt

Something’s out of balance there
Something’s not quite right
The way you put down your friends
Dims all the lights
The stars turn black
An eclipse of the sun, the coyotes whine
And the moon’s on the run
Don’t you know it just aint that bad
Don’t you know, baby, that you are sad
When you rail against the world, other girls
All your friends or Americans

But I have never seen you cry and never heard you apologize
And I’ve never heard you admit a lie or question why
You reacted with so much hate
Seeing crimes in every rhyme
But you can change its not too late

You ripped off my ears
But I aint your Van Gogh
You scratched out my eyes
And replaced them with stones

Years have passed and time has healed
The wounds and pain I used to feel
And then I saw you recently
In your land of make-believe
I was surprised to see black shadows under your eyes
And dark clouds in your sky
I smelled the scent of desperation that you cannot hide

And I feel my scars as they fade
the lessons learned I will save
And I feel my scars as they fade
the lessons learned I will save

And maybe it’s better for you to live in the night
Where you cannot see the shadows
Where every thing is shades of grey
And there’s no such thing as color

Is it my memory or my current mood that leads me down this road?
What really happened defies my reason
A prince that kissed a toad

Volcano Skip

Once again, I found myself at the infamous Ojai Skate Park, screwing in the brown skate lite which makes skating in parks such a pleasure. In the past several days, I think I have screwed in over a thousand screws. I am becoming quite adept at this assmebly line-ish skill.

When I arrived up at the estate yesterday, Skip and Bill sat in chairs, next to the 100 year old Sears shed, amidst all the various nic naks and debris that had been inside the antique structure. Skip greeted me: "We've been having a meeting, you're late."

"Oh, ha, ha, I've been working in the skate park, screwing in the skate lite."

Skip is unimpressed and sarcastically drawls: "You can go work in a Ford assembly plant."

I just smile and shrug off Skip's obvious displeasure. In retrospect, I realize now that this was an obvious warning shot over my bow. But, you know, I had not seen the bearded unkempt one for so long that I did not see any reason for him to want to engage in a heated discussion.

But, of course that is what happened. Bill asked me what my rate is. I told him. I mentioned how much I'll make when I get a work truck that was it. Within minutes, Skip the volcanoe starts to spew ash and boulders about my complaining. Pause. Replay previous statements. Nope, don't see where I was complaining. Replay Skip statements. Ohh, there it is:

"No one wants to work. I have so much to do but no one wants to work." He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. I ignore his subtle allegation. Skip likes to throw out hooks with aromatic bait designed to trick you into a blind alley where he can blind side you with his judgement. Hey, I've been working all day, so I ignored the warning signs, what can I say.

So, when Skip starts to yell, pace and stomp I reply with "You're the one who is complaining. You have an arguement inside your head."

Skip roars: "That's right, I haved an arguement inside my head, it's called creativity."

Now I've got him on the defensive, a classic reversal. "No, that's not creativty, that's just you justifying your status quo."

Skip contiues to shoot ash and steam into the late afternoon sky while Bill leaves the scene. A few minutes later, I stop and talk to Bill in front of his mail box. He's annoyed that I got into it with Skip. Thinks I should know better. "What ever Skip was saying had no basis in reality. Why... how can it bother you?"

"Yeah, sorry about that, I let him get under my skin."

Mini people

Sir Angus meowed faintly. I realized that he had tried earlier but I was not awake enough to let the information process. But now I was. I popped off the couch and let the happy cat out into the sunshine. I leaped back on to the couch and drifted off into quasi sleep land. 30 minutes later and I am brushing teeth and putting on work clothes.

When I got to the job sight, the guys were all gathered around a box, speaking in hushed intense whispered voices. When I approached, they quieted up. Now the game appeared to be gauging my reaction. “What could it be?” I thought to myself. “Hm, maybe they caught a snake… yeah a baby rattler or something. They always come out on hot winter days.”

But my guessing could not be more wrong. When I am able to see the contents of the box, I don’t quite figure out what I am seeing, at least not right away. At first, I think that they are toys, little plastic people for kids to have some fun with. But as I continue to peer into the carboard container, it dawns on me that these toys are moving around and in fact, as I begin to listen, I realize that I can hear tiny voices. It even seems like they are speaking English.

I stand up straight for a second and rub my eyes, stretch my spine and move my head from side to side.

Turn to Anthony and ask: “What’s going on?”

He just laughs in that full bellied unconscious manner of his and says: “Oh… I guess you haven’t heard, these folks are Charlie Slylove’s new crew.”

“Huh… new crew?”

“Yeah, he got this new gig… the clients want a bunch of miniature houses built. Oh, and the clients supplied the little people to. They figured out how to shrink people down to the size of crickets. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, there are not any laws about this kind of thing, at least not yet.”

“Are they speaking English?”

“Yeah, but it’s their second language. They all volunteered for this experiment. Oh and don’t worry, they are getting paid for this.”

“Yeah, oh, that’s a relief.”

“So now, Charlie’s gonna teach them how to make houses or what ever.”

Pyramid repairs

Just spent another night sleeping in the geodesic dome. Right now, it is more of a storage structure than anything else. There's not electricity and no running water. These basic elements of foundation are just a hop, skip and a jump up the barranca, though.

Last night, eight or nine of us had a pot luck at Steven's house. The food was great and the company spectacular. Highlove came through with an amazing dessert - ice cream, chocolate sauce, sprinkles and to top it all off: an aphrodisiac chocolate. After the meal I soaked in the hot tub with Sherry and Mark. This hot tub is cleaned with an ozonator. Outstanding idea!

Mark agreed to take me home. His love for conversation kept us there till almost 11 and so I said that I'd start work at 9:30.

When I awoke, the heat surprised me. The weather we have been having here is off the charts hot. When it is already in the high sixties before 9 AM, then you better be prepared for a hot February day.

I cruise down the hill on my CBR 900 and don't turn on the engine till I get to the first stop sign. Might as well let the neighbors sleep. I arrive at the remodeling job where Anthony and Marley are putting up the siding. Mark sidles over, gives me some tools and a back pack to put them in and then I am out of there, off to the skate board park for some more repair work.

After being there for an hour or so, I can really feel the heat. Unbelievabley, it must have been in the 90's. It was way hot. BUt this did not deter me from going for it. Where talking about a lot of screws here. My basic task involved putting the Pyramid back together - well somewhat put together. Inititally, screwed in 4 or 5 sheets of skate light, then I hammered in a bunch of plywood and then I pieced together some of the skate light and screwed it all in. I called it an early day, finishing at 4:30 after getting as far as I could. So, I know what I shall be doing tomorrow.

Exxon just announce that their profits for the last quarter are 37 billion - a new corporate world record. My question is: Why are they subsidised by the U.S. government?

Bono's on a roll

Bono has a heart of gold.

Darakshan does Asia

My friend has been in the Orient for the past month.

Hello my friends,

Finally making some time to summarize a few images of my adventures here.

I've been in Bali a week now, after four days in Thailand and a week in Cambodia. They've all been so different. All warm and steamy of course, but Thailand was very continental (the part I saw anyway), Cambodia impovershed and not unlike India, Bali poor but vibrant, a peaceful jungle of warm and spiritual people -- though I've been staying in a rather urban area full of shops.

Chiva-Som in Thailand is a world class spa, one of the top five I hear. A little gem of a place tucked into an otherwise so-so neighborhood called Hua Hin, but the maybe 4 acre compound is totally self-contained. Every detail just so -- for instance when you put your face into the hole in the massage table, you see not a floor but colored glass with a scented candle burning under it. At meals there were literally hundreds of dishes out, each always perfectly full no matter who has eaten, each with a little card describing the dish, its local name, its contents, its health qualities, its calories and fat, etc. Probably ten staff for every guest. It was running at capacity with 100 guests, though everywhere else I've been, tourism was down to about 10% of capacity, due to media-fed fears like Asian Bird flu and terrorism. It might seem wasteful, but on the other hand, this is a little industry that takes from the rich and gives jobs to an awful lot of people.

John's place in Sihanoukville Cambodia (named after king Sihanouk) is an up-and-coming little backpacker beach haven, probably like Koh Phanang was twenty years ago. A pretty nice beach with islands and free lodging behind many of the bar shacks, half for locals and half for westerners. Children and cripples go up and down the beach looking for charity or to buy something for just a dollar. People make a couple dollars a day to feed huge families.

I followed John around. By day he spends time setting up schools for these kids, and he says he now has 1,100 kids studying English, Chinese, Cambodian history, and computer skills. He has set up a non-profit (known internationally as a Non-Government Organization or NGO) and has wrangled all kinds of bureaucratic and political issues to get it together. He is also a sophisticated businessman, certainly compared to the Cambodians, and he has got the price down to $35 per kid per class by doing deals with local schools which are all private and struggling. His website www.cambodiakidsedu.org needs some help; I hope to contribute at least a bunch of photos and videos. (While I was there we met a Canadian video team doing a story on trafficking - they interviewed him, visited the homes of some of the kids and the red-light street they walk through to get to school. They'll send us their rough cut which may help in making a promo for his NGO. At night he and his partner Mark run a sometimes hopping bar at the new empty end of the beach. I watched him spend a few hours telling everyone on the beach about the psycho party they were going to have that night, though it maybe works better when he pays cute girls to do the same job.

In Bali, I spent time with about eight people from Nine Gates Mystery School, in a little hotel on busy Monkey Forest road in the heart of Ubud, just down the street from the monkey forest. We visited a number of local temples after learning how to dress appropriately (special hat, two sarongs appropriately tied, etc.) and how to perform the simple and sweet Balinesian temple rituals.
I saw several performances of Balinese dance and monkey chanting. On Friday, I took a few travellers to a Kecak teacher to get instruction in the traditional version of monkey chant, which is rather different in detail from the Burning Man version, though the effect is the same. Today the last of the Nine Gates group left, I started a batik project, had a great $1.00 lunch with Bo and with Newman (Oregon Country Fair mask-maker), and rented a beautiful room with a huge open veranda overlooking the rice paddies, over a studio where they often do yoga retreats. This will set me back $15 a day.

Bo has been living in Bali since Sept 2004, though he says he's spent a lot of time visiting other parts of Indonesia (which has 17,000 islands). He's lost 75 pounds!

I've filled my camera with about 4 gigs of photos and videos -- I don't have that much memory so I've been dumping them onto CDs -- and I have reams of notes and long e-mails of journal entries waiting to be edited. Will I ever get around to it? Who knows...

Anyway, hope you are all well and good; about now many of you should be crashed out from Steve's welcome back party I ready about. I'll be back *next* Saturday.

Love hugs smiles peace,
Darakshan

Tai chi is more than an exercise

Tai chi is an exercise, which defies description. Calling it an exercise is an understatement and shows the inadequacy of the English language. Jumping jacks and push-ups are exercises but tai chi is a whole other animal, a whole other life form. It has existed for over 2300 years and is considered a type of kung fu.

This ancient and continually refined slow motion martial art has several cosmologies. One school of thought has it coming from chi gong that came from yoga. Another school of thought has it being invented by a Taoist monk who had observed a crane and a snake fighting. Still another version of this story tells of a Taoist monk observing two cats fighting. Then, there is the concept that tai chi was birthed during a time when kung fu had become outlawed. In order to keep practicing, the martial artists began to do it in slow motion. Whatever the case, I think there is a bit of truth in each of these anecdotes. Each one provides insight and a piece to the ever growing puzzle.

The beauty of all of these explanations is that they each embody the elusive nature of Taoism. For example, as a consequence of the suppression of kung fu, this amazingly powerful martial art was born. It demonstrates indomitable spirit and creativity.

There are so many positive effects that come with a tai chi practice that it is nearly impossible to keep track of them all. In this day in age, this alone sets it apart from 99% of the ways in which human beings spend their time. Sadly, the grain of our time goes in the direction of self-destruction. It seems to me that dis-ease with one’s body has become systemic in our culture. The signs of this are every where. Denial and ignorance perpetuate this trend and war is the collective result of our individual state of alienation.

When some one starts talking about being positive and actually backs it up with their actions, then it makes them an easy target for mockery, jealousy and contempt from the walking dead, the zombies. Thus, when this does happen, it is just another sign of the times.

When I studied tai chi boxing, it allowed me to apply this moving meditation in an unexpected manner. It opened my eyes to new ways to process attacks whether verbal or physical. My teacher, Rolly Brown, told us to look at a punch to the head as a massage, to relax into it. He explained that our tension and resistance made it worse.

I realized that boxing was an incredible opportunity to relearn how to respond to situations that pushed my buttons. I began to redefine victory as self control and self respect. Thus, every altercation, whether verbal or physical, became an opportunity to grow.

I have begun to believe that the better I get at tai chi, the less likely that derision can occur around or near me. I certainly have a way to go. After 10 years of practicing, I think I know next to nothing.

Wave day

The waves were more organized today. A lot less chop and easier to catch. Consequently, there were many more surfers. Each set had 3 to 5 waves and then there was a 5 to 10 minute lull. The first wave I caught was long and chest high. I took it straight and then made my cut as it walled up a bit.

If I was asked what characteristic stood out the most in the ocean today, my answer would be the water temperature – brrrr sums it up. The paddle out was easy although I could feel my rotator cuff at first. The icy water is probably good for it. Regardless, it did not bother me after 10 minutes or so.

My last wave was on the inside and actually was the best. Before I paddled out, I noticed that the inside waves had more shape even though their size was smaller. So, as I caught the last wave, I was pleasantly surprised when it walled up and sent me to within 10 feet of the sand.

Tonight, I ended up at a small gathering at Steve’s. We ate king crab, mahi, rice and salad. Brad, Sundance, Jenn and I soaked in the hot tub.

New boots

Sleeping in never felt as good as it did today. It is so bonus to get these 2 days to myself. I even made a list - the various basic tasks had been growing like the hair on a hippy. Took a bath for my tired and sore back, some tai chi and then out the door into the big silver Land Cruiser.

I payed a visit to the construction site and grabbed my tools. It was nice saying yo to the boys. "I thought you were going to surf." Some one said.

"Do not worry, I will be in the ocean shortly."

Before I know it, I've taken care of what I could on the list and am heading down 33 on my way to Ventura's C-street, the break that's always breaking. Sure enough, when I arrive, I can see the spray from a wave shoot in to view. When I look out on the water, I see a rough, blurry line up of waves. Very few surfers are out.

The paddle out is harder then it looks today. This is my first time out in just over 3 weeks and it kind of felt like it. I just kept paddling and paddling - happy that my soar right shoulder is not affected by surfing. What a relief. This means that I shall surf the next 3 days. Sunday is the day that Jennifer returns to here home and her cat. That meand the Land Cruiser will turn into a pumkin. Time for me to get some wheels. So, anyway, I make it to the outside and am surprised that the waves are bigger than they looked from the shore. They are chest highish to head highish and do not much want to be ridden. The first few I catch and stand up but then they let me go because they only breaked on the top. The third time I caught a wave, I paddled like a madman and stayed with it until it grew some face and then popped up on my feet and tumbled off into the water gasping and laughing to myself. Time passed and I caught several waves, it felt so sweet to be back in the ocean where I belong. The water did not seem so dirty as my memories of glorious North Shore's clear blue ocean water have faded slightly. I finally caught a small one in and loped out of the water, content and ready for the next task: aquire some motorcycle boots.

The drive to the BMW motorcycle store took longer than expected. They say they are in Ventura but they are really in Thousand Oaks. Anyway, after a few wrong turns and a lot of help from Sunny, I now have a cool pair of boots that will give me a great deal more protection than my low top, old and beat up basketball sneakers.

Changing of the guard

Kristen entered the Ojai scene several months ago. She has been an all star on the party circuit and has tirelessly provided great amounts of enthusiasm and joy where ever she goes. Ojai is a bit too small a town for her contagious and relentless social nature. The horizon beckons her and thus, sometime soon, she shall be leaving – hitting the road. She is extremely generous, repeatedly cooking up a fabulous dinner with her roommate Jenn and then calling up a bunch of the crazy crew to invite them to the meal.

Tonight, Kristen and Jenn made a great meal consisting a pasta/sweet potato entrée along with a marvelous salad. I brought over a brownie mix, dumped it into a mixing bowl, stirred in some eggs, water, oil and cinnamon. Then thew it into the preheated 350 degree oven just as dinner was ready. At first it was just Sunny and I eating with the girls. Then, Remmy and Highlove appeared on the scene.

The food is attacked and consumed by the hungry males and generous girls while we laugh and review the various discrepancies that add up to our version of life. Mark and Remmy are both on the current job at the restaurant. Mark is the boss and Remmy is the electrician. They learned today that the clients have become resigned to the strong possibility that the remodeling will not b e completed and so they have changed their tack. So, the issue has become money. Aint it funny?

When I talk to Mark about this, he is only mildly concerned. The cashola crunch concern is omnipresent in the construction field. The cost of material keeps going up. For instance, copper has gone up 30% in the past six months. Thus, the gist of tonight’s latest crisis meeting, over lattés, was the new priority was cutting costs. “Can you reduce your labor force?”

A bit of time passed before my aching back and sore shoulder spurred me to query Mark about whether or not he needs me tomorrow. He seemed relieved and totally willing to let me have the next two days off. What a relief. Soon, I shall soak in the tub. I’ve been putting a list together of all the things I have been unable to do. Believe me, there’s a whole load of stuff that I can do now instead of shooting nails into a wall.

The timeliest thing of all is that I shall be able to meet with Bill. His wife is on the verge of having their child. She’s been due since the 28th of January. I’m part of the birth team. My responsibility is Will. He’s only 9. When Eliza goes into labor, my role is to take care of Will.

A strange random act of violence occurred here in Ojai just two nights ago. I actually drove by after it had happened. I observed about 6 police vehicles all on the side of the road with their lights on by the Vons intersection. I spied a bike lying on the ground and I surmised that someone had been hit on the bike by a car. Alas, to my shock, I learned the next night that some kid had gone bonkers and started stabbing people. My friend, Nick, was leading a group of people on a walking meditation when a deranged maniacal youth attacked them with a knife. He stabbed one of the mediators in the back and hit Nick in the head with a rock. I’ve not spoken with any witnesses yet and heard this info second hand. I am sure this story will be reported in the Ojai Valley News Friday.