A nice refresher page on the apostrophe, for those who have been out of school so long that the proper use has started to blur with the improper use:
Ugh. I just found out about a health problem in one of my parents. I could say what health issue one of my parents is dealing with but I’d like to believe that if I don’t mention it by name there’s a better chance a treatment can be effective. Entirely effective. I’ll hope.
But it could be worse, so perhaps I shouldn’t complain. I’m sure it will raise all sorts of discussions between my parents though about how to plan for the long term future — a discussion that really any married couple in their sixties should share. I’ve known people who have gotten much worse news about their parents so I’ll minimize this by saying one can still be optimistic about my parents’ case turning out ok.
Day 3 was the BEST day! Immersive Studios is a stylin’ two-level recording studio nestled away in the industrial eastern rim of Boulder. It took some hunting to find the place because the city had walled off the main route to Immersive, trying to stop the dharma! But we made it there — the “we” being myself and two hitchhikers I spotted carrying a guitar. Figured they were headed to the third day of Dhamapalooza and sure enough they were. Terri or Kerri and… Ok I am exceptionally gifted at erasing names from my consciousness, but they were nice people! About forty people showed up at Immersive, maybe a few more, which was substantially fewer people than the earlier days, and that made for a much better environment for me, certainly, and possibly for everyone — though probably mostly for me. Reason being, I could hear people, and I could walk up to people and say hello without a hundred other people running in between like linebackers (finally got to say hi to Kismet in person again; she’s so cute!). I even got to finally relax around Stuart, and it was nice to at last have that stress burden gone, just gone. I’ve met Stuart Davis. I should say a few words about what this day was about: performance by Stuart’s fans. Stuart stood on the Ikea paper-lamp decorated stage and did a pair of acoustics (ok, actually not Ikea, I think they were Target lamps with Target color-shifting LED nightlights inside, but I won’t tell), and then the talented got up on stage one by one, mostly playing just one song each and then turning to the next person. Some fantastic vocals among them, and some poetry, even a Christo-religious number which I granted enough respect to sing along to when cued, figuring he’d granted us Buddhists or Buddhist-esques our respect by being there this weekend (despite my tendency to react emotionally, instinctively, against organized western religion). A few numbers were acapella, and some played Stuart’s guitar. One person even got up, strapped on Stu’s gear, said how good it felt to be holding Stu’s guitar… and then put it down and confessed he’s a vocalist who doesn’t actually play guitar.
I took my advice from Day 2 and quieted my inner voice for much of the day too (‘cept when that Christian was around, then I was all ready to leap into action, though what action that would be I have no idea). And I picked up that CD by the rap artist who opened the show at Trilogy yesterday — his performing name is Akilimanjaro (“bringing joy, not sorrow”) and his website is streams7.tripod.com. I suppose he’ll get a real URL when he releases his first pressed disc; the disc I bought is cd-r (but it’s magic markered personally by him or his family, so, cool!!!).
That completes the trilogy of days. Sorry no pics from me except this one thumbnail sized one, but there were some other folks taking pics; some will turn up. That’s Stuart Davis on stage and his clone, Stuart7, in the audience. Not it isn’t.
Too … tired … to … blog …day 2. But one quick insight I had during meditation: I need to stop believing my inner voice is accurate.
This concept was introduced to me during the meditation when my inner voice said something I totally disagreed with, causing me to be like “what the hell – my inner voice is lying to me?”. Then there was laughter and I was asked increduously by a voice that sounded like what I’d imagine native Tibetian Buddhists would sound like, “You believe everything your inner voice tells you? Ha ha ha ha” The point being, our inner voice is often based on the assumptions we make, and therefore one’s inner voice is not reliable, particularly when we are trying to imagine what other people are thinking.
On a more imaginative note, during the group meditation my creative mind came up with the visual of a pair of dragons (like in Chinatown parades), with tongues that flicked out like anteaters, running through the audience of meditators, and kissing/flicking the necks and ears of people who were being good in their practice of meditation (the people who have the hang of it). In my mind’s eye these two dragons were the spirits of two departed Zen masters associated with the Shambala Center, and in their dragon form they were not to be feared, they were simply running around kissing people affectionately when they were good at meditating. I wasn’t kissed but there was one student ahead of me a ways who was kissed a lot. I realize this is all my own mind’s metaphorical treatment of my own assesment of who was a steady practitioner of meditation and who was not. My mixing Chinese dragons into a Tibetian Shambala Center is a bit of a giveaway in that respect.
Ok, one more note. The show later in the day (much later in the day) by singer/songwriter/wearer-of-really-glitzy-weird-glasses Stuart Davis had a great opening set by a black or African American (his choice) rap artist with a really lighthearted attitude towards deep philosophical questions (imagine Finding Nemo as a quest for the Holy Grail, and you’ve got one of his songs down already). Regretfully his backing music was all programmed, but his live vocal performance was excellent, and he’d done up his face in magic white paint which I feel sure was not for Halloween but was simply because it really made him fascinating to watch. His set was all too brief. I’ll try to get his name posted soon. Didn’t have any cash left to pick up his CD.
Oh, also I had a dream last night that Stuart Davis reached into my pants for my “bananna” but I told him I was more of a “plantain.” It was’t erotic, he was simply trying to shock people in much the same way he sometimes zooms his head at your face in real life. His head on top of his neck, in case that wasn’t clear. Indeed that dream was a copy of that experience of zooming faces, except redefined into terms of vigor and prowess. Which for a guy manifests in a dream as a penis on unimaginative Freudian nights. Concept being, if I said I was more of a “plaintain” — a smaller version of a bananna — then it meant I was making excuses about Davis having more vigor than I — not sexually, not literally penis size (though I’ve heard he’s huge), but simply in energy. That’s obvious — performers might not have more energy than anyone else, but they put a lot of it onto the stage where it can be seen. It may be part of why we like actors and performers — they appear to be at their peaks, and we like the idea that people can be at their peaks…even if brings up a contrast with our own sense of performance. And in trying to expose me, the dream was also an indication that Davis — or rather, my own internal Davis — wants me to reveal my creativity, my own performance, rather than keep it hidden in my metaphorical pants. This dream was prompted in part by my housemate telling me that the director of the library at which he works gave a speech in which he praised the cataloging of their special collections room, and announced to a stunned audience that he was proud that they could now “expose their jewels to the world.”
I’m sorry so many of my dreams (and therefore blogs) have been sexual lately. Clearly I need to be laid to end this particular line of metaphor. I’ll work on that.