Let us speak now in the common tongue
Let us rise to the occasion

What now is left of them, the words
we understand in the same way, at
the same time? Have we lost them
to the airwaves, the pseudowinds
of radio and television, wireless
staccato signals paul simon says
instant information a loose affiliation....

The words we speak are swords,
slicing through the air, an
ominous hissing whistling
past your ear
Yet again, our words are swords,
controlled and held in the discipline of kata
beauty of form, shining in the sunlight
before they draw blood.

I watch my rage rise
red mist a fine covering
droplets of blood weep from my eyes.
you called it out
you woke it up
I put it back to sleep.

This time it wakes on it's own
I let it. It calls itself
God's rage, looking for
someone to punish,
Discarding the sword,
Picking up the whip.

"I'll cut you, man"
Facedown at Fillmore East
Up Against the Wall, Motherfuckers
Paradise Now and
1968
Ben pulls a knife on Graham.
He rips open his shirt, screams
DO IT, MOTHERFUCKER
we pull Ben away
the knife still in his hand

"I'll cut you, man"
Words from the mouth
a 14 year old boy
has me trapped
in the box office
with his buddies,
knives shaking
with their own terror.
They take the money and run
missing the stash under the tickets.
1969
There's no business
Like show business

"I'll cut you, man"
3am Sugar Hotel
"I'll kill you" and Billy,
calmly saying "no you won't"
The police come and
the poor crazy goes away
after they take him down
on top of me,
still holding the knife.

"I'll cut you, man"
words from my mouth, inner child
tough crow girl with a switchblade.
She will, too
if you fuck with her
too much

when the rage is fully here there
are no words, just the cold
fire, the precise angle
the lash falling, cutting skin
forgetting reason
forgetting everything
focused on giving you my pain

"I'll cut you, man."
He probably didn't say that
when he found her at the campsite sleeping.
Just cut her up and left her there to rot
along with her friend.
May, 1975
His lawyer said it was
justified, after all
they were lesbians.

the rage flows up
and out the tongue
a lash, a flogger
a dead horse.
when it passes
I'll bury my dead.

1. We, as humans are vehicles of meaning in the Universe. All of us. We may not be the only vehicles, but we are such. There is no meaning capable of creation without a sentient consciousness. This is the Crown.

2. There is no active meaning capable of expression without a sentient consciousness. This is Wisdom

3. There is no passive meaning capable of reception without a sentient consciousness. This is Understanding

4. Song is a potent vehicle of meaning - rhythm, emotion, intensity, key, lyrics, melody, harmony, counterpoint, and all the rest. It incorporates the primary conscious vehicle - story - with the emotional realm and the senses. This is Compassion.

5. Dance is an expression of that meaning, absorbing into the body and projecting into the world.It both expresses the energy into the physical world, and limits it's expression to that which the physical dancer can express. This is Power.

6. By tapping into the deep forces of the emotions, mind, and spirit, the Dancer can transcend ego self. Dancing opens and connects the heart. This is the third gate. This is Beauty

7. As the Dancer performs the "Song and Dance Routine" , She veils herself in forms with multiple meanings. Yet the conscious ego retains a link to the Dancer. This is the Path of Attachment and Anticipation. This is Eternity

8 Seen through veils of attachment and desire, the Dancer becomes the alluring mystery leading us into both the world of illusion and the world of reality. He tempts us and lures us through the door, playing his pipes. This is the Path of Desire and Longing. This is Glory.

9. Presented with the Dancer, the ego must confront the threefold riddle - part the veil, follow the piper, or move into the Dance. It is only when the choice has been confronted, and made, that realization occurs. This is the second gate. This is the Foundation.

10. Like background music, the song and dance are just out of consciousness. Like subliminal advertising, we allow ourselves to be drawn to the veils or the piper without being fully aware. It is only when circumstances - fate, synchronicity, randomness - whatever - makes us aware of the Dance that we can even perceive that we have a choice. This is called waking up, and is the first gate. This is the Kingdom.

15 characteristics of eccentric people - from the book "Eccentrics" by David Weeks (and shamelessly stolen from a 4 year old blog post at bookofjoe)

•Nonconforming- check

•Creative - check

•Strongly motivated by curiosity - check

•Idealistic: wants to make the world a better place and the people in it happier - check

•Happily obsessed with one or more hobbyhorses (usually five or six) - CHECKCHECKCHECK

•Aware from early childhood that he is different - check

•Intelligent -check

•Opinionated and outspoken, convinced that he is right and that the rest of the world is out of step - check

•Noncompetitive, not in need of reassurance or reinforcement from society - not the case here

•Unusual in his eating habits and living arrangements - check

•Not particularly interested in the opinions or company of other people, except in order to persuade them to his - the correct - point of view - 50/50.

•Possessed of a mischievous sense of humor - check

•Single - check (although married 3 times..)

•Usually the eldest or an only child - check

•Bad speller - that's what spell checkers are for
______________________

FunFact: women number less than 5% of the eccentric population.
---------------------------------------

So roughly a 13 on that scale. I suspect that of my female Tribe friends, most of them fall into that 5% :)

G

So I go down to my neighborhood coffeeshop about 5:30 tonight, and some of the crew is hanging around. One of the guys takes me aside and says " I just found this backpack on the stoop. I opened it to see if it belonged to someone, so I could return it. This was in it. What should I do?"

And he shows me $10,000 in Australian currency, in cash. That works out to about $9200 US. And an unused plane ticket and boarding pass for a flight yesterday from SF to Philly. And return tickets from Philly to SF to Sydney. And no local phone number, or contact info. So we called the Australian Consulate and left a message. Seemed like the right thing to do, to me.

Since the connecting flight to Philly was very shortly after the plane from Sydney landed, I'm wondering how the pack wound up on Bush Street a day later. There's a story here somewhere.

So, what wouuld you have done?