Archive for April, 2015


The ear participates, and helps arrange marriages.

But the eye has already made love with the person it sees.

The eye knows pleasure, delight in the body’s shape.

And the ear makes do with words that talk about all this.

When hearing takes place, character areas change.

But when the soul sees, inner areas change.

If all you know about fire is what you’ve heard, see if the fire will agree to cook you.

Certain energies come only when you burn.

If you long for belief, sit down in the fire.

The ear, if it hears subtly, turns into an eye.

But if sounds do not reach the ear in the chest, nothing happens.


(translated by Robert Bly)


First off, let me say this:  Fuck the “improved posting experience” that WordPress so generously forces on us!  It’s designed for mobile devices–and who the hell has any business posting on his or her blog from a goddamned mobile device?  If you don’t have a mobile device, do not get one.  If you have a mobile device, get rid of it.  I’m not joking–mobile device usage is literally killing people on our highways every day, and destroying our face-to-face communication with one another!

Now, on with the drunken post:  It was so wonderful drinking Guinness tonight, even though it was from a can!  Guinness is the king of beers, in my opinion, and one of only three stouts in existence, to my knowledge (the other two are Negra Modelo, from Mexico, and McGuire’s, from McGuire’s here in Pensacola).  If you know of any other stouts, please let me know.

I was thinking about something very intellectual and deep at dinner, but now I can’t remember it–I hate it when that happens!  When I got home, I replaced the traditional Chinese music in my CD player with the Chambers Brothers’ “Time Has Come Today”–full-length (over eleven minutes long) version–God, I love that song!  And it’s even more applicable today than it was in the Sixties!  I wish the lyrics were printed on the CD, I’d transcribe them here.

I notice, from my stats, that most of my readers actually land here to look at the spreads of the gorgeous women I’ve posted.  But that’s okay!  If you land here to see a beautiful woman, you might, as Bill Cosby used to say on “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids” (and by the way, I am highly skeptical of those sexual assault accusations against him–I really think it’s a smear campaign directed against him because of his candid comments on the attitudes and behavior of Black Americans) learn something! Tonight, I’m going to post some photographs of one of the most beautiful women I’ve seen in modern times–a local news reporter named Meg McNamara.

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Now, remember:

If you have a mobile device, get rid of it!

And in the 2016 election, do not vote for a Republican or a Democrat for President–vote for an independent!  And if there is no independent on the ballot, and you feel you would make a good president–vote for yourself, as a write-in!

I’m serious about this–if you stop using mobile devices, and stop voting for either a Republican or a Democrat for President, the United States of America may fall.  But if you continue using mobile devices, and continue voting for either a Republican or a Democrat for President, the United States of America WILL fall!


An invisible bird flies over,

but casts a quick shadow.


What is the body?  That shadow of a shadow

of your love, that somehow contains

the entire universe.


A man sleeps heavily, though something blazes in him like the sun,

like a magnificent fringe sewn up under the hem.


He turns under the covers.

Any image is a lie:


     A clear red stone tastes sweet.


     You kiss a beautiful mouth, and a key

     turns in the lock of your fear.


     A spoken sentence sharpens to a fine edge.


     A mother dove looks for her nest,

     asking where, ku?  Where, ku?


Where the lion lies down.

Where any man or woman goes to cry.

Where the sick go when they hope to get well.


Where a wind lifts that helps with winnowing,

and, the same moment, sends a ship on its way.


Where anyone says Only God Is Real.

Ya Hu!  Where beyond where.


A bright weaver’s shuttle flashes back and forth,

east-west, Where-are-we?  Ma ku?  Maku.

like the sun saying Where are we?

as it weaves with the asking.


The Friend comes into my body

looking for the center, unable

to find it, draws a blade,

strikes anywhere.


There is a light seed grain inside.

You fill it with yourself, or it dies.


I’m caught in this curling energy!  Your hair!

Whoever’s calm and sensible is insane!


Do you think I know what I’m doing?

That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself?

As much as a pen knows what it’s writing,

or the ball can guess where it’s going next.



(translated by Coleman Barks, et alia)