Note to Self

Make best concert seats cheap, worst ones expensive.

Family Moth at the Movies

I realize that what I'm up against is pretty fundamental--if I'm wrong or not.

I completely accept that this battle is within me, although I certainly see it reflected all around me.

The reason I love hip-hop--and much of black culture--is that it asserts that it is right. That it has a right.

Women's culture does that too. It's nothing to see a magazine at Borders (as I did today) with a white woman holding something magical in her hands and a huge word "Goddess" above her. And then have the title explain how women are goddesses or whatever.

But try that with a white man--hell no.

But I'm a white man and I'm right. Dangerous stuff.

I love Tupac and Biggie--and Master P and the like--because they assert that they are right--are people and have the right to be--even when they are wrong. The bible would likely agree with them on this one. God probably even more. Whether or not they have crossed over to glorifying being wrong is up to them. And those of us who choose to listen to them. If it didn't strike a nerve, it probably wouldn't get served.

This wasn't always the case. In some sense white men have been so right that it got annoying. And oppressive. And set other people into motion figuring out how they could be right. How they could flip the script.

This doesn't mean we've never been wrong, just that we're not wrong. Just that we have the same access to the truth--and to god--to authenticity and everything else--that everyone else has. And that we're alive and have a very valuable contribution to make to the present and future of the world.

Just like everyone.

White culture--especailly white male culture--the culture part of it--has become in some sense a culture of wrongness. Of either apology or just getting into the stuff that people hate about us. Postmodernism in a lot of ways is a culture of erasure. Of destruction. Which is not to say that there's anything wrong with it. It would probably agree. But that doesn't mean that the time won't come where it is the cancer and its death is our only salvation. The same could be said for mainstream white culture in the 50s--it had acted as a homogenious unifying force while we fought two world wars and integrated a land of immigrants into the strongest and free-est nation in the world--and then huge parts of it had to die. Because the very momentum the good parts of it had created told people that it's dep dark secrets could no longer be tolerated.

That's how change happens.

And people may just be as attached to punk rock now as they were to Jim Crow then. The only difference is that Jim Crow was against others exclusively (not really, but externally), while punk rock is against different others and a large part of the self.

Anyway, I try not to get too much into cultural criticism, more of an observation. I know for me, leaving punk rock--the world of "indyness" felt like I was dying. It literally made me sick because I felt like I was giving up the only power and identity I had. And I had no inkling that there was anything outside of that. Leaving the mainstream was hard enough for me, but at least there was another tribe to head to. People to talk with. A way to be. Better music and the promise of more free sex, more fun, etc. At least we were right. :)

Leaving that tribe for the real wilderness--when that one already felt like the wilderness--let's just say it wasn't as cute as dyed hair and a pout. And if you think punk rockers are more accepting just try putting on a suit, shaving, keeping your hair sharp and wearing an ironed shirt. Or telling them what you care about. Or bringing up god. You also don't have any ideas that you're going to get any because of your new stance. Any being whichever mixture of love, attention, sex, societal conferral of authenticity, and street cred you want at any given time. At least heading out into the counter-culture you THINK you're going to get, to feel more.

But back to the front, I'm right.

And I'll bet my life on it like the Wright Brothers. Strap me in, crank the prop, and push me toward the cliff--I've done the math in triplicate, sussed out my competitors designs, eliminated every variable--White Gold will fly.

And I hope that when I do, people see it as love. Just like they do now when they see "young blacks get money".

I never came into this game to be like this. I was attracted like a moth to a flame. I just wanted to hang out with musicians and artists. I had already given up on creation. I thought they'd be having more fun, know something about love. Be living better lives. I can guarantee you I was no different than anyone else. Probably even more passive if anything. I took my women's studies classes at school seriously. (And i thought it would get me some--some being whatever it was that I so obviously lacked). I wasn't in a band (most of my friends were), then when I was we never did anything, then when we did, we immediatly broke down. I was very good at drinking and getting into shows. Occasionally I'd end up throwing a party. In short I was a scenester--a good one--but a scenester. (Had my drink and courage been up and you been a woman I was interested in impressing, I might have told you my art was life--an idea I ended up, post-scenster years, describing and debunking in a book called The Love Artist.

But you can only get so close to a flame. Especially if you're a moth. (Just ask the flies who try to get down with my halogen lamp here in the basement--and don't forget I'm writing from the basement of my mom's house).

So eventually you burn out, or die--OR--or you burn out, die and become flame yourself. Which is what we all are. Light. Energy. That's not some new age mambo, that's a scientific fact. You are 100% energy--vibrating at a frequency and in a manner unique to you. The only difference being between those who know that and those who don't. (And those who fake it and those who don't, of course). Usually we probably fall along a continuum of the graph representing those four states. --Just because we're all right doesn't mean we're immutable. Doesn't mean we're perfect or done.

Au contraire. It means we can finally start!

I still don't know what to do with the knowledge that I'm right. I was raised that it was the height of arrogance to say so--a sin. I guess I could just be right and not say so--let my actions do the talking. But I talk so little already. And is there any subtlety that isn't lost on folks these days. [Or maybe that's the whole thing--just walk into the gaping, football field-sized hole right in front of everyone's eyes. That's my plan anyway, but I feel like explaining it will do something. Maybe the energy would be better spent writing lyrics. Or maybe I'm the trapese artist and the ring leader at the same time. Who knows?]

Who knows.

What I do know is that there is literally UNLIMITED REAL ESTATE between left and right--between "normal" and "counter-culture", between your mind and your body. UNLIMITED. >. (That means greater than not "I'm a smiling bird"--see isn't this complicated enough to have to explain?).

And this is one time I'm not exaggerating. It's as if there were UNLIMITED waterfront property in downtown Manhattan for the taking. For free. How much would you like Mrs. Robins? The paperwork is a bit of doing. But the resources are there. And it's what you want. Both spiritually and materially. The work is free. The body the map. Your hunger the compass.

I always wanted to live on the water. To do so and get to show the folks who brought me up--who inspired me--how to get their groove twice as tight--sorry that's the old, multiplicative world--take their groove to the second power--well, if I never sing one song well enough for other people to pay $14 for it, if I never get out of my mom's house, if no one ever feels my book, if nothing ever happens again--that will be more than enough.

Love to the love. Oh, and by the way, if you're in Chicago check out the Keiskamma Altarpiece at St. James, it's beautiful.

From Here

More and more I'm seeing the world as a physical manifestation of an energetic or emotional state of being. Somehow, we're the (or a) conduits for this physical manifestation of something unseeable going on somewhere. Even physicists now think the world is 11 dimensions or so all wrapped in upon each other--that the world is a multiplicity of worlds.

The interesting part of this I guess is that we determine so much of what this world is based on our understanding of this unseeable, almost indescribeable, energy. These other dimensions. --Based on our understanding of the nature of the universe, God, god, "the way things are", etc. And don't say you don't believe, cause that's just as powerful a belief as any. Maybe more. Embrace and champion whatever you believe. Even if it's disbelief. Get into it. Feel it.

We all believe like our lives depend on it, and many of our emotions and even more of our decisions and actions flow directly from those beliefs. We say that the world is a certain way, but in my opinion, much of what that way is, we determine. Especially at our level of mastery over here in the western world. Odd then that we still strive for victim status to justify ourselves. (And often hand our authenticity/value based upon it).

So between here and there is what? What we want to learn. The things we have yet to master? Emotions we're afraid of. Limbs we thought we couldn't go out on.

From what I've learned--go out on a limb and wake up the next morning like you're starting from the trunk again. It's a willfull ignorance of how we're "supposed" to act. If everything we know is wrong (or even if we're born into a broken society) then doing the right thing is going to feel like going to hell. Necessarily. Even if you're a liberal and already have it all figured out. (I guess there's a special place in hell waiting for someone like me who has not only figured that out but also dains to foist it back on others).

A object lesson in fear.

Which brings me to one of the few biblical quotes I haven't yet been able to spin: "It is harder for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven".

I was thinking about this today as got my Whole Foods sushi lunch ready. And I've thought about it for close to 20 years. I even imagined myself doing magazine covers with me on a camel framed by a huge needle eye.

But then it hit me. It's true. Absolutely. But entering the kingdom of heaven has nothing to do with dying. In fact Jesus' whole thing is everlasting life. (I also believe that Jesus incorporated to show us that to get to god we would have to go through our body--our feelings and physicality, our sex and desire--but that's another post).

He's absolutely right. You have to give up all you have on the quest for heaven. And ALL YOU HAVE ACCESS TO.

I could have tried to write a book evenings after I came home from work--and maybe I could have even done it--with the proper mix of coffee and beer--but I never would have gone all the way. (And I'm ont saying that's not 100% for someone else). But I would never would have learned how much energy, how much passion, how much love and life were inside of me had it not been pushed, pulled, tortured and cried out of me. I never would have learned what 100% committment is. And I never would have learned about true safety had I not been dangling off the financial, emotional, whatever precipice for however many years I was. And going farther out on the limb.

I also could have stopped when the money ran out (I actually tried a number of times--great proof that we don't have to be perfect but are radically protected as long as we're trying and have some good intent/momentum/etc [although maybe we don't even need those?]). But I'm starting to see that because I had so much familial strength and safety--I had to go somewhere where I was threatened. Some unnknown turf. Where I was forced to take complete responsibility for myself and my actions. Including my future success--maybe mostly my future success--with a book that no one was feeling. (With a couple exceptions). With a plan and a future that few understood--and even fewer (noone?) believed. All based on normal economics, mind you. And one fuck of a leap of faith.

From birth I have been almost unable to fail. I've had it too good. Have friends and family too loving. Too much access. So what do I do to get tested? How do I determine if I have what it takes? How do I become a man? I have to build upon that which my people have started. Live happier, more lovelier, more relaxed. Take up the weight and get it a few more feet. And prove their work right by enjoying the work more. If your mom and dad routinely do triples--the way I figure it you've got to land a 1260 at least. Which doesn't mean they're going to love it when you try. :) (Hi Mom!)

And finding out what that is will take everything you've got--and then some. It will take every material advantage and worldly connection you have--necessarily. And you won't be able to rely on the tribal wisdom--in fact you'll be a threat to it. And you'll have to manage that as well. Because until you're broke and hungry and alone and decide to go on anyway, you'll never know what it's like to really put god before mammon. To do what you want despite any and all worldly consequences. Setting your priorities spiritually doesn't mean you're not going to be rich, hell, if you're doing it right you should feel rich before you have anything, what it means is that you're not going to make decisions, alter beliefs or indulge emotions because of money. Or more likely, because of the fear of a lack of it. It means you're going to make your decisions with faith and joy based on the best thinkin', feelin' and discernin' you can do no matter what.

And hopefully have some fun dammit.

And then you'll be free. And can have all the money whatever. Cause you're not going to base any decisions on it. Or more likely--the fear surrounding it. Cause you already got rich--with your time, in your skin, with your partner--with yourself--and you're just reporting back. Which is bound to cause whatever scrilla you need to flow your way, is it not? Now that you're a creator.

_____

Another idea popped into my head while cutting some dead limbs off a tree in front of our house today. What if everyone's afraid to buy the stuff they really, really want (which would create so much more of the jobs we really, really want), because they all associate going to get more money with enduring more pain. Because they ain't doing what they want because they (back to the first point) believe that to get money--to survive and thrive on this planet--requires doing things they hate? And so they went to do the thing they hate to get the money. Toil.

Because that is what they've had to do in the P~a~S`t (it even sounds like a ghost). Is the world a place where we get to do what we want to do or where we have to do what we should do? [Side note: I actually gave up on the best new age guru I ever found when she admitted she thought that not everyone was down here to do stuff they wanted to do. Of course in her world that was lead workshops, write self-help and read auras. Be a healer. In my estimation, that's the last form of employment in the old world--sheparding folks over. The only question I ever cared about was what do we do once we're straight? And why the hell would we wait if we weren't? And, of course--can we get healed in the abstract?--without doing what it is we're here to do. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you my position on the matter but let's just say I'm down here to be a normal person--heal-ED--past tense. Have fun, be in love, see clouds, whatever.)

So are we stuck? We've tried all the options ever in the past. Right down to GG Allin and the Murder Punks. But you still don't WANT to pay more for a song? You still don't want to be a leader? To throw dollars in front of the most promising artists with the hopes that they get even more relaxed, even more self-sufficient, take even more time between albums and get even further out (or come closer back)? More mature, warmer, more relavant, happier? Satiated? Comfortable? So you can hear what it feels like on wax?

I do.

No matter what it takes. I didn't think it would be me, but maybe it will. I certainly didn't want to. I wanted the other guys to. I was too lazy, too much of a hedonist. I wanted to read the next great American novel, not write it. Consume, not produce. (This was before I knew what real hedonism was--when I thought you could feel without feeling--when I thought you could get over).

And I can't wait to show thw world what's really possible in the arts with the proper pricing structure in place. And the proper coordination, flexibility and depth between the male and female, the spiritual and material, the creative and commercial aspects of ourselves. The irony is that if even one of my calculations is right--unless I'm deluded or have a major blind spot--I stand to make more money than the folks who went into it FOR the money. And I wish there weren't all sentences with "I"s in them, because I've been told that's a sin as well--from numerous sources--but I don't see anyone else doing what I feel needs to be done. And I've certainly been called an egomaniac enough times to just shut the fuck up. But I don't know how to

All because all I care about is getting rich. And there's no way to do that without being present, relaxed and fearless.

____

I guess my bigger point here is that creation is an opportunity to stop re-creating our tired old beliefs--is an opportunity to short the feedback loop--if we accept the challenge. We can easily fight fire with fire and be artists who reflect what is--in the hopes that people will "see what's really going on" and change. But A) that's been done and is played, and B) I thought we were supposed to inspire, so how come we ain't getting no higher?

The radically successful artist of the next generation will find within themselves a peace, a joy, an inspiration that is incorruptable--and share it. They will win the war for themselves and return to battle willingly. And joyfully. Not to win--okay to win--but not to win on the old standards--but to win on the new standards. To be happy. To enjoy--come what may.

And what the fuck coulnd't you say from there that people wouldn't love, yo!?

All In

Come to think of it..

We don't expect better clothes without paying for it, we don't expect better highways, schools, produce, computers, massages, sports teams, spirituality, relationships or ice cream without paying for it--but we want better love? Better culture? Better songs and more lovely books? Better feelings? Better paintings? More real movies? Truer truth?

And we expect to get it for free?

Maybe I'm more detached than I thought, cause I guess I've been going by what we SAY and ignoring the mammoth, giganto, overwhelming and incontrovertable reality of what we DO!

I thought motherfuckers was nice. Hmmmm. May be time for a little re-org.

What else?

Aleah wasn't interested, but she worked for Proctor and Gamble and seemed bored by it. Laila hasn't called and what else? The woman on the train who had a cold got off at the next stop.

The kids at the fountain were tearing it up yesterday. As were the butterflies in Millenium Park's fountain. The great thing about corrupt Chicago--we wanted an uber-dope downtown park and we paid for it. Magic.

Even Christ says be ready to pay everything you have for what you want. There's no way to learn about yourself except by putting everything you have in it. And there's no way to know all of what you have without using everything at your disposal--and then getting creative. I also think that we may not even be able to figure out our modern condition/power without exploring credit deeply. But I can only make that decision for myself. And I'm certainly not going to recommend it.

Take responsibility for everything.

Peace, love, and go all in on what you believe in and want.

And don't flinch when the rest of the cavity creepy world tries to bust your flow. You're the tipping point, and a little friction is to be expected.

Enjoyed even.

Yours,

Breath Control

Interesting article in the Tribune about bored teenagers. It turns out that youth culture isn't even working for the yout's. How could it with one price point?

Imagine if you loved McDonalds burgers. And wanted to eat them all the time. And imagine that they were the healthiest food you could eat and your body loved them. Now imagine they were the only thing available. And the only thing you could eat.

Your stomach didn't turn until the last one right? That's where we are culturally. You can only see a $9 a ticket movie. (Or worse/cheaper). You can only read a $14 book (or cheaper/worse--unless you buy mine). Is it any wonder we're starving as a people. The richest mo-fos on the planet ever. Every one a Bruce Lee of production and productivity. And can't one of them get a gee that fits.

The sermon at church today was about manna--the bread that god gave those wandering in the desert every morning to eat during their 40 year exodus. It didn't last overnight (except on Saturday), they had to eat it and trust that it would come again. (Oh ye of little faith).

The second teaching described the promised land in scrumptious detail. Which must have been a cause for great salvation for those used to eating only bread. The catch--they would have to set to work and help prepare the feast. No longer were they spiritual children--to be fed out of thin air. The bounty would be incalculable--but they would have to prepare it themselves (with the grace, mercy, helkp of god, of course).

Sound familiar? I know you punk rockers out there know what I'm talking about. But what if the truth wasn't dirty and corrupted and cheap. What if Pabst wasn't the highest form of human expression available? What if blue collar was a phase and not an aspiration?

What if your desires were holy?

What if by consuming fewer, more valuable goods that lasted longer and were less vulnerable to the ravages of fashion, we not only saved the planet, but got richer. Both spiritually and materially.

Anyway, that's boring to me like summer movies to a 14 year-old. My main concerns of the day are that Elana at Borders has a boyfriend (not that she was marriage material anyway, but I'm ready, willing and able to warm up, I promise you). Is it a secret that counter-culture girls/women are easy?

But I do like that it's becoming easier for me to just honker down and do the damn thing than it is to leave. I was already halfway to the door--Sunday morning at 10--but I don't even want to think about this s*&# anymore. Why not just do it and whatever? Isn't doing about thinking more valid than thinking about doing?

A dance about critics better than a critic about dance? (Although why, on god's green earth, having chosen and worked to dance, would you dance about critics?? Would you even look their stingy way once? Insist upon anything else? Parking spots. Weed choked lots. Flat tires on rainy days.

The bus is up and running. The studio is banging. The beats are flowing and I'm brushing up on my breathing (Elena was in the music section). Breath control.

Get the money.

Blawowaaahunh wooo hwo wooooah.

My question remains:

Should we ever panic? Ever? When the bills are due tomorrow and the money's not there today?

Time and money offer the most convenient reasons to become anxious, but does it ever work? Don't we have more time and more money than anyone on the planet ever? As long as we're doing the work, walking the walk, how much support/grace/got your back can we expect?

And if we think it's risky/expensive to find out, how long we'll laugh once we do. And what a pittance we'll find we sold ourselves short for.

For that's what selling out is, right? Trading the feelings you want/have for the money or time you think will secure them in the future.

My friends are all getting married and having babies. (And congrats everyone!) Turns out I'm only a minute behind in the material arena! (After ten years of jogging/slogging the other way).

This grand unification theory just might work after all.

Glory be, glory be!

What am I Missing?

I can't help but think I'm missing something today. And I think what it is is that when you're spent, tired, ditched, dumped upon, maxxed out and hungry--you--I--have to still be proud. Have to still want what I want. And present my viewpoint with a joi de vivre that can't be faded. It's gotta be fun.

ESPECIALLY if there's nothing coming. ESPECIALLY if no one will ever pay me for my book. ESPECIALLY if I never program one dope/flip the script beat.

ESPECIALLY if I never get laid again (not to worried about that one actually, it's just been a while).

Cause walking up to beautiful women when you're lonely and getting rejected is going to hurt--but only if you're not yourself. Only if she says "yeah, but there are a lot of Mexicans" to your observations that "this is a nice beach) and you don't say shit!!! Cacuse you were trying to get laid punk! And you were all up in your head even though she's a smoker.

Cause you sold out from the get. Cause she's gorgeous, and frollicking in the waves with her friend and you're at the beach by yourself talking to Carlos from Equador who doesn't really speak English and you've spent far too long wondering if you should go talk to her. And it's a little more daunting cause she's got a friend with her.

Anyway, none of that really matters except that if you stop being yourself, if you don't call her on her wack remark, just like if you don't ask the prospective client "how much money am I going to get and when am I going to get it?"--they your chances of what you want happening have just shot the rapids. Or more like gone down the tubes.

This world is a power struggle. Or is primarily about power.

It doesn't have to be about power OVER, it can just as easily be about power with or power of understanding, but once you give up iyour power, you're done. And the world isn't a better place either.

Why don't I get mad more easily when I get tired? Kids get tired and cry and fight. My inclination used to be to roll over--I'm learning now that just means more work in the long run--but where did I learn this? To slink away when hit? Cause it ain't doing me no good.

When I was writing my book--and I'm thinking of making this a paid blog, by the way, so if you think it should remain free your best bet may be to paypal me a couple thousand dollars--then at least I'd know who was serious and who was just along while it was convenient. What I'd probably do is laeve all this up here and just new stuff would cost $$. I want the money.

--When I was writing my book I noticed that one of the things I could do when challenged was back down. Or shut up. That I was nice. That I was accomodating. That I was afraid of confrontation. Especially when it threatened my vital supplies: love, affection, food, money, comfort, safety.

I learned intellectually that there was a much larger force at work in the universe--and that even my girlfriend (who was a force of nature by the way, and I mean that in the best possible fashion) didn't REALLY want me to agree with her when she was wrong. But damn!

Anyway--build a gut, be your own person, say no, because you'll have much better sex. Don't do it for some blog reason.

But also realize that god wants you to. You want to say no because it's the right thing to do. You want to say that's fucked because that's fucked. And if no one bears witness to that fact then universal law looks like evil can prevail. Is rewarded.

Yes, they'll say it's you. Yes, they'll call you an ego maniac--believe me, they'll go straight for that one--but if it's not right, it's not right. And even agreeing with them won't make it so. Just spread the virus of wrong.

Instead of strengthening the healing of self-assertation. Full disclosure and full discussion.

There is a way to be radically powerful AND understanding. Of standing under--coming from beneath--while remaining steadfastly yourself. It takes a lot of lower body. But that's just what it is. We're not doing anyone any service by letting our upper body brain override our lower body brain (the gut).

Maybe it happens when I'm tired because I leet go of the present. By the time I realized she had made some crack about Mexicans (or at least flirted with it--the statement itself was true, the tone and the context are what were suspect)--the conversation was two thoughts down. I still should have brought it up (whether I wanted to get laid or be a human being (same thing actually)), but why not just write it off?

Because I didn't screw up my courage for 20 minutes to go be a push over. And I think this is what I'm learning. It's not enough to make it to the ring. It's not enough (for me) to be wearing the yellow jersey with two days to go. Or tell my kids I was IN the World Cup once.

I want to win.

And to win you've got to ruthlessly shake off everything at teh moment of decision. The farther it goes the more you've got to shake off (this is exactly parallelling the sexual act, if you haven't noticed by now--the ultiimate learning experience). The more imperative that you breathe in first and stay present. The more important it is to remain yourself and stay loose and have fun. Enjoy the freedom of creativity. And taking radial chances. Because you've got to be willing to lose it to win. That's the whole Dwayne Wade thing. You've got to shoulder up to the risk. Delight in the possibility of failure.

And this is why I love watching Entourage. Just when you think they really should punk out and take the smaller house, curtail their spending, take the corny movie that will make lots of money, grow up and get real jobs--they say fuck it and are catapulted to a higher level--by virtue of their ability to remain detached from the results of the process. The rewards.

Which of course garners them untold riches.

So my thesis is this: what if every single setback, every discouragement and delay. Every rejection. Was nothing but loosening you up. Keeping you limber. And encouraging you to get into it. to Do exactly what it is that you want in any moment without ANY regard for the outcome. ANY!

It would only look like you were supposed to feel like shit. It would only seem that you were downtrodden. When in reality, the universe was doing everything in its power to convince you, who were of free mind and body, to do anything. Go big time and time again. Have faith the size of a mustard seed.

If you learned this would you do it? Would you start expecting the dawn more and more as it got darker and darker. Or expect a more complete and completely new dawn as you saw new levels of pitch dark surround you? Would you get the pattern? Would you remember when you really, really wanted those expensive shoes, that house, that new car, that woman, to write a book, to get a show but thought it would never happened? And then it happened and you thought it was nothing?
And if that happened four hundred thousand times to you personally, four hundred million time to us as a species, would we begin to expect the process? Would we start to take bigger and more meaningful risks? KNowing that what we seek is what we find? (Although not without our Laurence of Arabia, 8 MIle or Bridge over the River Quai certainly).

And have fun doing it. From what I can tell, if it matters, then that's the way it works--that everything is perfect all the time, the trick being for us to get strong and flexible enough to get down with that lovingly stark reality. And if it doesn't, then who the hell cares if you sell out entire countries of people just to get some anyway? It won't work, but you're welcome to try as often as you like.

I Want to Win

The good news is that I'm sitting on a boatload of high quality recording equipment. The bad news is that neither the Russian woman at the beach nor the French woman at the World Cup game were really ready to bring it. Or even let it be brung. (Ladies, I am willing to do the work.) The Cuban/Puerto Rican woman by Wrigley Field had a boyfriend. Though she looked a little bored. The hispanic woman in the bookstore didn't really seem that interested.

Whatever.

The only other news is that, surprise, surprise, I still can't play basketball. Not that I can't lift the ball and shoot, but more like my joints are shot. I imagine one of the more difficult parts of getting rich and famous is that you feel so strong that you forget all the stuff you can't do anymore and just burn yourself out. I'm not going to be on tour eating soul food every day. Or even once a week. The discipline's a drag, but I've gotta go with what works at this point. I'm too far into it to keep all that stuff "on the table"--or in negotiation as it were.

Damn, cause I beat that guy, too. He was just a kid but he did have a shot or two. And he hit about 5 threes in a row at one point. (After I went up and thought I was going to run away with it of course--dig deep, yo!)

If only I could harness my competitive drive for larger, more complex things. I guess you don't spend 10 years formulating and training to flip the whole world's cultural script without some serious desire to win, but lord I miss the rewards. I miss the points. I miss the payoff. I miss winning. I want to crush things. Win. Drive inferior music into the Siberias of the collective consciousness. Beat other people.

And I will, I've just got to do it nicely. Without caring that I'm doing it. Just because.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it.

Or maybe that's just the untamed beast in me. Maybe I just want someone to rub my back and say "You know what, baby, everything's going to be okay." And lie down next to me and want to stay.

Then I probably wouldn't care if I won or not. No--I probably would--but maybe not as much.

Hey, maybe that's why I don't have that person. I can tell you honestly that I tried doggedly to sell out in my previous incarnation as an ad man. I even wrote poems about it. I had the woman lined up as well. Luckily, she didn't give a shit about me either. LOL. If you can't laugh about it, I guess you can't do anything. I think she dates women these days. Oh well. The underground got her anyway.

************

I was thinking as I woke up from my nap today (okay, life isn't that bad..) that the symbols for male and female as described in The DaVinci code are also perfect representations of the old and new corporate structure. ^ for male, the old top down way. Great at organization, not so much for having any fun or freaking it. V for female. Decentralized, feeling it. Here a leader is determined by how many people he or she can support/inspire. In the old model it was how many people he could control/motivate. White Gold is built radically on the latter model. And ready to capture huge segments of the economy as soon as it pops.

If anyone would have said, in the late 70s, that The Cold Crush Brothers and Kool Herc, and a relative handful of others including Afrika Bambaataa, The Disco Three, Grandwizard Theodore, that these maligned/ignored artists from the South Bronx (and probably a few from Brooklyn--and a few like the Last Poets--my point here is not to disclude anyone), if anyone would have mentioned that they were building the foundation of a worldwide cultural, economic, and social force, the likes of which the world had never seen before, who WOULD NOT have said they were crazy?

Disco had been a fad. And faded. So had funk. And soul, the blues, cool jazz, hot jazz, and swing. And hip hop may still be a fad, we won't know for another 100 years or so. But by that time it wil have had such an enormous impact that it'll barely matter if it completely transforms. And each of those other forms had enormous impace globally as well. It's just that now, the entire western economy depends upon popular culture.

And them's big shoes.

My point here is just to say that we should expect--and work for--the unexpected. We should assume that something huge is right under our noses. If we are to believe the past. And we should expect that getting more into who we are--becoming more willing to be ourselves, express ourselves in public--dance in the park--will lead directly to riches both internal/spiritual and external/material.

BUT we've got to go deep. We can't recycle anything that's come before. We've got to get down below the dust and muck and mire and tar to the gold. To the root. And lock in. If it looks like the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s it probably is. Hell, one band I saw by accident in San Francisco looked like the eighteen-90s. But now I'm being a bitch--and exhuding (exhuming?)--being--the exact opposite of what I'm talking about. Let's see if I can get back on track.

Here's the deal. What if Bam knew what was coming? What if van Gogh knew he would sell? What if he knew his colors would inspire millions for years and years?

Puffy and Russell Simmons knew. And got their couple hundred mil. But they were middle and new schoolers. What if one of the old-schoolers knew? What if Charlie Christian knew? Robert Johnson?


Dre knew. He really knew. (I wonder if he gets a piece of Snoop, 50, the Game and Em's clothing--or just the records?)

You could argue that Mick Jagger knew--although he was mostly into music and not the larger cultural deal. That McCartney knew. Bob Geldof. Madonna knew. Cher?

But they all had jobs. They had to tour incessantly just to make ends (lavishly) meet. They were all dealing with the old economy of nuts and bolts. Making room in our boring-ass world for some love (remember 1976? No--I mean really remember it?) They just had more lovely, finally fun widgets. They still had to prod, promote, tour, covert.

Now people expect it. Are starving for it.

And I plan on throwing in my two cents. I just got an amp that sounds better than any I've ever heard.

And if I can contribute anything, it will be to show what true expression is really worth. Especially if you're an adult and your energy is straight. I certainly don't have a monopoly on it. Hell, sometimes I don't even have it, but if I can show Lee Scratch Perry what his records--what his story and the risks he took are really worth--or--EVEN MORE IMPORTANTLY--show the next worldwide breakout change-the-game producer how valuable his work would be if he takes the same risks without giving up his consciousness, his love, to drugs and alcohol (yawn), then my work will be done. How much farther he can go if he feels all the feelings he wants to avoid. No, because depressants and hallucenogens, not to mention stimulants and sugar, are inefficient means of cultivating love. And notoriously weak ways to transmit energy anyone else would want to feel over a period of time.

Now all I have to do is drop it.