Why Wait?

I was trodding down the stairs to the gym yesterday doing my best to remain alive and chipper without even contemplating the labor I was in for when I had a bit of a flash.

My thought was don't wait. That's it.

And pretty standard self-help fare, although, as I'm no self-help guru (at least never admittedly), I can't just leave it at that.

Because.

Our task is not only to not wait when we want to do something, but to not wait when we want to do nothing. AND when we want to wait.

This is the stuff that Oprah's guests never get to. Even the more esoteric and likely more formidable consciousness experts. Because as soon as you remove your foundation, your dogma, you cease to become an expert and start becoming the fool. The child. An artist. "The truth is a pathless land" -- Krishnamurti said that. He got part the way out but our good friends money and sex seemed to trip him up. And he spent the last years of his life battling the man who had faithfully handled his business affairs while he (Krishnamurti) has been sleeping with his (manager's) wife.

But he was right about the pathless land. And we are 3-D. Which means that anything I say will be wrong--guaranteed--for you if you try to apply it to your life. And it can't be written down--or taught completely. And why gurus are a serious mixed bag (and why everyone who's name we remember has usually sat under one for a while and then broken seriously with them).

So why communicate at all? (And where are the gurus who believe so firmly in the source and so casually in their own authority that they understand and preach that you're already saved--and come to you for a workshop/ashram-like experience!?)

Because everything I say is also never wrong--for you--when understood by your self. In your true perspective. (That would be what you came to later, after reading my book and seeing me on PBS and trying with great intent to not wait for a couple months--that you shouldn't wait to wait either.)

So say anything you want. And you'll get a better understanding of what it is you want to say.

There are things we really want and really don't want. And it is possible to live much more in the former without feeling guilty or bad about any of the latter. Because that's what keeps us on our toes. And alive. And humble.

Being grateful about that which we dislike takes some serious practice but it's fun. And why get bent out of shape by anything we don't want to love?

If life is a constant prayer--and a creative one at that (meaning that we create what we pray for), then focussing on what we love is what will get us more love. Hard to believe that we can just drop the bad stuff, and certainly not what we're taught, but hey, no one ever said this is supposed to be hard. (Although running from it is likely just as bad as dwelling on it.)

Karate means open hands.

And--before I become a self-help guru by writing blogs and indulging in criticism and being one who knows--I'm out to call my brother, get my money together and make some killer beats. I guess some day my blog will die off altogether. Or maybe I'll just record what I'm working on and put the process of recording. Keep on being lovely!----

Monks and Mozart--No Sparks

God bless them both but this was the most chaste first date I've ever seen.

A whole symphony doing it's beyond professional/hyperwestern thing. WIth full chorus.

And a gang of monks. In saffron. Fully guttural and throatsinging and banging their version of pots and pans. Freaking all us businessmen and women.

And the monks would go. And then the symphony. And the monks. Then the symphony. While the other sat there and tried to appreciate the other's tradition. It was painful. The whole audience was crying for a dance. Some cross-polination. Some unscripted or at least some something.

My brothers and sisters--get the fuck down!!!!!!!! Get down!

MAKE IT FREEEEKKKKKEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! Even if you ain't a freek. WEspecially if you ain't a freekk.

Anything .,p- everything, anythingn,,,, ll00allsorts ofthings. Anything. Everythinge.

Throw off your fucking chains. We know you professional. We know you tight! We're dying from your tightness. A scream, a hoop a jig--anything;ll dooo. Pull your dick out. Anything.

And my fair monks--have some fun. Hit a note once in a while. God made melodies too. Practice. Order has it's place. And can be beautiful. Don't be afraid of the major scale. Or bass-bumping beats. Or 4/4. It doesn't all have to be atonal. If the West ain't all right then the east ain't either. Let's learn from each other and get it on. Have beautiful babbiesses. Hum be-bop-a-lula. Anything.

Luckily the bean and the fountain were close by. And those have their own magic. You can't stop kids from playing in wading pools. If it hadn't been freexing I woulda jumped in their too.

Looking forward to the day where it's all fountains and beans. Maybe it's me, maybe it's them. Either way itll happen. Lots of love, Love, love, love. Pow!

More, more, more...

(How do ya like it?/How do ya like it?)

Still watching the World Cup at the gym. And learning a lot about decisive moments. Creating your own luck and the like.

Number one: You've got to want it. A friend once told me that about writing my book: "You've got to want it more than that." He was right. You've got to really want it. So much of this world goes to who wants it most. Who wants to deliver pizzas the most gets to. Who wants to play basketball the most gets to. Etc., etc. It's the same thing as seek and you shall find. Those who refuse to be stopped rarely are.

The trick is being the person you want to be and infinitely loveable while maintaining your indominable spirit. Your indefatigueable hunger.

Number two: As you get closer and closer to what you want, the opportunities to "fall out" increase exponentially. It's no big deal to thank the shop that sold you your guitar in your liner notes, but when you've dropped a few hits, it means a whole different thing to start selling Pepsi. Money, money, money; moo-nay!

The problem here is likely that you've entered into a recording and distribution agreement (or book publishing deal, etc.) that artificially deflates your value by tying the price of your creation to other artists and restricting the amount of money you can make off of relaxed, stable (loving) pursuits such as recording and songwriting. Your dick is in the machine and it's time to for a summer tour to pay the bills. You're not a victim, because you agreed to it, but because you couldn't see and negotiate another way, you feel like one. Even more problematic, is that these resentments are already creeping into your art form. And crushing whatever love you did have in the first place that may have warranted being priced above other slap-bang and cheap thrill artists. Unless you started 40 years ago (when I would argue price and the goods delivered were more closely aligned), if you're making high quality product these days, you are likely grinding it out. And spending some part of you that shouldn't be spent to do so. A situation that can only lead one direction--and all the money, coke, sexual partners, Big Macs, cars, adulation, and ass-kissers in the world can't get that back. I spent four days in a hotel recently and I barely knew who I was afterwards. I might even recommend it for short periods, and for purposes of experimentation, but lord help the folks who try to live that way. Or become itinerant to pay the bills. We ask that our culture be rooted, have and be roots without a mechanism for our artists to live that way.

[This isn't anyone's fault, btw, just a historical hiccup. Like many others before it. Popular artists have rarely demanded what they are worth and those who produce and distribute them have never understood the enormous financial upside to pricing mass produced culture according to its value.

(Run for the hills, Betsy, he said that value isn't relative!!! He's a culltural supremist/Nazi/asshole/fascist/Republican/dog hater/uptight fundamentalist for sure! Go, go, go!)]

If I was on a label and went into a store and my shit was the same price as Brittany Spears (and no disrespect to Brittany, I even like some of her stuff), I'd freak. I eat potato chips sometimes, big deal. But I don't expect to get a Porterhouse served with quinoa pilaf and served by someone smiling for the same price as a fucking hot dog and nachos at 7-11. I'm not crazy! And I'm not twenty and I don't create for 14 year-olds with limited disposable income. Do I think some of them would like it--absolutely! Do I think that some of them deserve to be able to afford it? Probably! But I bet my life that it's more important for them to grow up in a culture where their parents, or even people their parents know, or could know, have access to a real, loving, warm, adult culture. And I know for a fact that they (the 14 year-old) know the difference. I just gave a copy of my book to my nephew, who's around that age, and there are parts that he really liked. He also gave me some of the most lucid comments on it of anyone who's read it. My point is that my work is not competing with Tigerbeat Magazine for anyone's allowance. Nor should it. This doesn't mean that any of my peers will pay for it. (And judging by the response so far, they won't.) But that doens't mean it shouldn't be available. And priced at a level that would support and allow love to flourish should they choose to.

It's prettty hard to describe your value after you've set your price. And I guarantee that I'll never be a car salesman--used or new--"This one's just like a Lexus, I guarantee!"

In any event, as you get coser and closer to that which you really, really want, whether it be in a relationship, business, sports or in bed--the temptations to pack it all in, to give up and join the dark side, to get the rewards and give up on all this process stuff, get increasingly more appealing. C'mon baby, the ends justify the means! You're the man! Can't nobody mess with you!

And this isn't a reason to get more nervous. But an opportunity to permanently relax. To remember to enjoy the whole thing. And give it your all. And take unreasonable risks. And get creative. And allow yourself the possibility of failing! Or remember that that's all that's real anyway. And all we're here for. And that you're just doing it as exercise. As practice.

US soccer team. Impressed with making it to the World Cup. Ready to play defense. Ready to stop everyone else. Played great when confronted bodily by the Italians, otherwise with certain fear of risk and little creativity. That'll get you to the World Cup but never win it. To win you must be willing to lose! Our soccer team was unwilling to lose.

Dwayne Wade, on the other hand. Did he care that his team was down two-none and Shaq hadn't shown up yet? Just give me the ball. Let me do the work. Let me go down swinging at least! Let me do whatever I have to until I figure out to enjoy it. Cause I'm dead until then anyway. (And you can be alive and happy, engaged, etc. and not win, certainly--but you also don't care. Feel like less or complain. You will bust your nut eventually--guaranteed--this world is too beautiful, too sexy, too warm and inviting--and you're supposed to! But it won't bust your flow when you do it right. You won't be tired the next morning. Feel guilt or shame. You'll celebrate! You did your thing! You felt love! You were yourself! Yeah, baby!)

Richer than kings, softer underwear than popes. More loving sex and alive and free women than despots, mauraders, industrialists and peasants alike. (Maybe even combined.) More comfort, more leisure, more tools, more toys, more time, more TEETH, more toes, more tunes, more love, more light, better toast and more power, education, freedom and rights than pretty much the entire world's population--ever.

Yes I have stuff I have to do. And gnarly lessons to learn, but they're fun ones. Sexy even. What about the generations it took to sit still and be quiet. Or shut up and get back to work.

Let's talk about music.

Paris HIlton is number 6 on iTunes. Gnarles Barkley is number 5. Then it's Rascal Flats, Christina, and Nelly Furtado. And Shakira. All bets are off. If you DON'T differntiate yourself by price--if you don't put a value on your values (and you make and sell music) then you too will have to either strip every vestige of funk from your person (including shaving all pubic hair most likely) or insist that you are, as Gnarles' title suggests, Crazy. Or you'll be something slash artist. It's a zero sum game and those are the states of being that our current price points support. (Unless you have some magic way of feeling everything going on around you, being real and not having it affect you at all.) Homoginized or "insisting I'm absolutely not, and could never be, Homoginized". Please tell me if I've missed anything in my figuring.

Just remember that I was the first white guy who told you to get the fucking money. And if you ever go to tell someone you can't believe how expensive I am, please remember that I gave you that for free. My book is really immaterial tto the cover and the price. Although it certainly helps rocket value to read it. Or at least have a copy sitting on your bookshelf :). (I'm still surprised that no one's asked for a copy yet. It seems obvious to me that like a bully I can't wait to be bullied. Or that like a woman, I might think less of guys who are interested but afraid to ask me out. --Or maybe I'm just blind to my actual attractiveness!)

(--If you didn't laugh at that there's not much else I can do, yo.)

Speaking of Dre, I accidentally put my Nano on regular play today (usually shuffle). I didn't realize until I got to the "D"s. Whic are just about all Dr. Dre. And all his stuff is killer. It made me think about the conversation I had with the manager at my bank about Dre, Eminem, 50 Cent and the Game. (Yes, it's one of the coolest branches of Washington Mutual--I'm sure HQ doesn't know they were playing Rakim's "18th Letter" at 9:30 this morning, albeit at a professional volume--or that one of their business customers chose them specifically for that reason for that matter.)

Anyway, the manager was detailing the recent history of the Aftermath's crew street cred. (Aftermath is Dre's label. Dre owns a piece of Eminem's work, who owns a piece of 50's, who owns a piece of the Game's--or at least used to. Dre makes all the beats.)

It turns out that The Game has essentially crushed 50s credibility--and his sales--by battling him and attacking his "gangster". --The same thing that 50 did to Ja Rule. Of course, 50s decision to let his movie (Get Rich or Die Tryin') slip into fiction didn't help either.

From this I took two things: one--be very careful how you come up. You will reap what you sow. Two--keep the business separate from the art. And if you want to still create, you better be ready, willing and able to bring it at the drop of a hat. Or else it's better to just produce.

I say this because what is beautiful about this, like a 40's cutting contest, is that the form wants to be advanced no matter what. Period. And it doesn't care about anyone. Or money. The truth wants to be heard. Art demands movement. And either you stay with it or it's gone and off to someone else. Ruthlessly. And if you get schooled and can't say thank you--then you're old news, pops.

It's one thing to be a father, another to be a grandfather (and still part of the family), and yet another to be a Dre, a Michael, a van Gogh--someone who instantly gives generations something to work with--a way to be valuable. As my friend at the bank mentioned, Dre could have put a weatherman doing vocals on "In the Club" and had a hit. Because of that beat.

And you're going to tell me he sells for the same price as Buck Cherry's second album? Say all you want but to me, that's like Dizzy having to smile for people to listen to him. And if I've learned my lesson well--the answer is to turn my back on that shit like Miles. And blow like a motherfucker.



___________
I'm off to hear Buddhist Monks perform Mozart downtown for free. That's the other option--an esoteric culture curated by the elite.


_________

The title song, btw, I just looked up on iTune, is by Angela True. The album it's available off of--One Hit Wonders! (And Best of the 70s).

One Thing

One thing I've been looking at these days is defining moments. (I wish I had a more unique term, but hey..)

Like Dwayne Wade tying it up and then winning it with two free throws in overtime.

Here's a few things I've found.

You're usually exhausted.

Sometime it feels like the "regular season" is just to get everyone good and tired for the playoffs so we can see who's steel and who's iron. Unfortunately, I think this has more to do with regular life than we would probably want. Or admit. This shit has to be trained for.

There's a choice.

It can go either way. Luckily, most moments aren't a basketball game, where someone has to lose. In fact, most relational/relationship moments, I would say, are either win/win or lose/lose. Growth/better or same/backwards. The matter at hand is either enjoyed, creatively transcended, avoided, or becomes more entrenched.

The deal is--it's hardest to make optimal decisions under these conditions. Time is usually a factor as well. And as much as I'd like to believe that we aren't forced to act, getting into what I really want seems to me to come with somewhat of a mandate for action. (As much as I'd like to sit around and think my way through things). I think between the east's nothing matters/give up the world (give up the body) to find peace and the west's control the world/everything matters (the body is all), is a path that includes both mandates for action--get out of bed now and...--allowances for rest--naptime! The skill being to know when each of these come about.

But what I wanted to mention is that when the battle is joined, when you step up, when you say "whatever it takes, let's do it now" (even if what it takes is nothing or inaction), a whole world of possibility opens up. And some real magic starts to unfold.

When you talk to the person in front of you in the grocery line, who's earrings caught your eye. When you decide not to have that cup of coffee and take a nap instead. When you go onstage and are willing to die. When you stand up and decide to speak. When you decide to stop speaking and listen.

At first, these moments are like a cold shower. Mostly fear and panic. But it seems to me that it's a muscle that can be developed. That you can make the world the type of place where the lovely happens--even though it doesn't have to. Even though no one has the energy. Even though it didn't work last time.

I guess it comes down to what we feel the universe and what our world is about. If it's a creative, loving place, where we have time enough for everything (does this negate my earlier "mandate for action"?--good question), if it's all love, then why not stretch? Knowing you'll come to rest in a soft place. Wiser for having tried.

If it's a cold place, though. If people are messed up and problems abound, then protection is key and "trying" is best done when one feels safe, after some money is put aside, etc. Later.

There's no fronting on what the state of the world is. Although I would say that it's infinitely more loving, happy and gorgeous than my morning newspaper, Spin magazine and the TV report. Times forty probably. I rarely see reported even half the joy I see driving across town. If the ice cream carts are out, you're guaranteed a handful of pure moments. Sugar-induced, to be sure, but most parks contain more joy than the city newsroom, which purports to tell us what's happening. Without ever visiting the park. If they wanted to do it proportionally, they'd have to give equal time to every street that didn't have a shooting. Every intersection that didn't have a crash. All peace is is peaceful. And it doesn't advertise. We have to go to it, that's why its love. If it came to us, it'd be drama (or a stalker). I guess what I'm saying, is that we are responsible for maintaining it. Keeping it alive. Even though we aren't the source. Or at least that we encourage it to thrive or start to use it up by our actions, which tend to be a result of our beliefs.

And that these factors come together from time to time to form openings in our world, in our personal and collective reality (maybe even all the time), and that at these moments, it can all change in a moment. Whichever way we'd like it to. If we've got the guts (and humility?) to make it so.

The second point being that we can either get into these moments (with the final buzzer about to go off). Or shut down. Because we're free.

In any event, most world religions and the humanist tradition agree that the world is broken. Or at the least has great room for improvement. The question I'm interested in, an believe is crucial, is what is at it's core. And why don't we spend more time talking about this ultimate reality--seeing that we at least either want to get closer to it or claim to be representing it. And ultimately, should we base decisions on an assumption of faith, because the world is infinitely safe, or an assumption of skepticism, because it's generally flawed? (An aside--would all the horror matter if love was the undeniable core? Would love be superficial if death and decay were the true nature of things?)

I think our answers to these fundamental questions determine most of the human world. If we believe we have dreams because we're here for that reason, and it's our destiny to achieve them, that's a much different world than some a hungry, fickle machine that must be served. An astrologer I got an email from the other day termed it as destiny vs. fate. I think that what is termed fate may be the shadow side of destiny. Unexpressed, unloved, un-fought-for destiny coming out as resigned fate. It's happened to me.

But all this makes it seem large and cumbersome. And maybe a bit sad. And it's not. Not at all. It's perfect and wonderful and in complete synch. (And right on time!!!) Maybe I should have eaten lunch before trying to type it out. My point is that once one decides, all these questions drop away. And life is the result. The doing of it. Although unless it's something you're willing to die for, unless you let it drop away the right way (with Dwayne Wade's followthrough?), with your desired understanding in place, you'll think you're in hell.

Work as play or play as work.

White people are fucking crazy.

Gary Got His Ring

Much love to the Miami Heat for their NBA Championship win. I had dual loyalties because I like Nowitzki as well, but it's great that Gary Payton finally got his ring.

I also think Dwayne Wade is the most exciting player to watch in the NBA.

Bling, bling, bling, the Glove got his ring!

They All Choppable

What's with all the hits? I feel like Navin Johnson or something (the new phone book's here..).

Coupla things I've been cogitatin' on (thx to Robert for the vocab):

Staying light under debt. Can it be done? Should it be done? If we're really all in, and we have access to credit, just how far should we go (ten years, and probably $70K for me--much more than I ever owed for college)? I see no reason not to do it, but clearly it's one of those "don't try this at home/professional driver on closed course" type of things. Or maybe not. Why wouldn't god use everything we have at our disposal if a longer latency period could mean faster artistic/spiritual/personal progress? Why would a few interest payments fade him? And how could we develop a true and pure faith if we were working the whole time with not only a spiritual but also a material and emotional safety net. (The spiritual one being permanent). I'm definitely not saying get rid of the net, (am I?) but when you get all the way out on that branch, sick and tired of the damn climb, do consider that jumping for it may just be the answer. I'd take a deep breath first. And definitely pray on it. But with finite options and infinite love, I think we've got to consider that metaphorical flying may be a metaphysical possibility.

I didn't really figure I'd get to be an even decent love artist without a thorough understanding the relationship between money and love anyway. Lonliness/aloneness as well (damn it). You can't know (or own) the with if you h'ain't known the without. Or as Eminem says: Ya gotta live it to feel it/If you didn't you wouldn't get it. I'll still do a two-step and have fun in a waterfight with kids--you can take me to bankrupcy court and beat me. I just don't care. --Or, I care so much I don't care. I'm open to input, and relaxed, but my committment is on lock. It simply costs too much to go back and forth.

One of the many times I was seriously wondering what the fuck?, I made a promise to at least go out the right way. Go out in Yemen whooping it up like 'Awrance instead of in a cubicle like Larry. (If you got all those references, I either want to marry you or nod "what's up" knowingly as we pass on the street, depending on your gender and/or pheremonal compatibility). Although with my birthright the risk would be 80 year-old who "never amounted to anything". Just like my dad's girlfriend Lee predicted. God bless you Lee.

Got to give my friend Robert a ride today. Lucky thing I did too. After I got over the "I'm really going all the way out to the west side?" thing, I remembered that it feels different out there. People are around! People are doing it. For better and worse. You can feel it. I had to take my shirt off just to fit in. It's relaxing. Try that on the N side, biotch.

We were approached by two men at a stoplight who were pushing their CD. Thank god for love! Thanks god for hustlers. I gave the man $10 just for coming up to my window and talking to me like I might give a shit about music. If I felt that love that every day, maybe I'd be done by now. It was hot out and his hand was sweaty when I shook it. His two partners had the other line of traffic and the other direction covered. Damn. They didn't even have any graphics on the cover, just a color Xerox of a photo of them. I've sold my book on the street in Seattle (and believe me, wearing a suit and charging $40 for a book with you white and half naked on the cover in Seattle is probably as much of a stretch as the Hood Stars pushing their cd to cars at Chicago and Cicero). And I popped it in and they're telling me to wait for the movie! Fucking beautiful! Glorious!

Anyway, I'm so tapped out I'm just about falling asleep at the gym, but--a lovely thing--I don't care. There's a critical point where you go from stress/exhaustion/whatever means slow down, stop, get afraid, etc. (and I have been blessed with time to rest, and I do take it) where you go from stress equals I want to hide to where stress equals "good, let's do it right now!" I think it's the difference between difficulty means "take your environment in, it might be your fault/punishment" to difficulty means "better leave it out there, Bobby, it looks like some shit". Let it drop.

Like Nowitzki/without the height
Light you up for 50/flashing overbite!

That's me.

The other beyond dopest rhyme I've reheard lately (while trying not to fall asleep at the gym):

I'm on a mission that [folks] say is im-possible
but when I swing the sword, they all choppable

There's one from the Hood Stars about giving accountants paper cuts, but I forget the first line, so I'll have to get back at cha with it.

Pax!

12:00:10

Fight fate--that was it.

Staying light with the start-up. I figure if money really isn't a primary mover in the truly important scheme of things, then what about it should shake us? Rent due? Credit card debt? Parking ticket? C'mon now. We're rich, baby! We got automatic toilets and live in treehouses. Not to mention 250 count sheets, fresh food, underwear, hot water on demand, and just about any luxury one could imagine.

Fight, fight, gotta stay light (don't swipe that, it's a chorus all by itself).

Oh I forgot, god told the widow to keep quiet about the oil.

But if money doesn't matter, then it really doesn't matter. As in leverage you whole life for exactly what you want. (Isn't that what you're doing anyway--make sure it's overt). As in it never matters. The trick being just never to flinch.

Boo!

My friend John Logic mentioned a book he was reading where the guy said anything that can be solved by money is not a problem. The book guy had to get cancer to learn that, can we learn it without death?

Congrats to True--welcome to the planet, young one.

Also--something to think on--if the only room for growth is in a mature, loving culture (music, lit., films, etc.) then the only people suited to make them are us old folks. It's not a matter of forgoing college to rock out, but of making that mid-life crisis stick like there's no tomorrow. Of knowing it all and heading back into meaning because you want to. For no reason! (That's what all faith is, btw). Just make sure you go far enough. I think that will be the sticking point initially. People dabbling and then heading back. It really wants all of you. And that's how much you want it to be.

So give it up. And turn it loose while you're at it.

Whoops, talking like a self-helper again, time to cut and run..

Love.