Lucy Leigh, In The Lab of Our Implausible Lives
I have a dog. She's smart and also dumb. Sort of like a scientist. Or an Eskimo.
(This is an allusion to the Eskimo Paradox, referred to and explained in a previous posting, possibly on another planet.)
All aliens, check your messages!
I'm what is euphemistically called an animal person. I think of myself as both man and beast. I also prefer animals to people. True, a case can be made that animals, in their own way, are as annoying as people, but they rarely, if ever, have stupid opinions which they feel compelled to tell you all about.
Dogs, for example, have fairly basic urges. They make no attempt to disguise these in long-winded verbiage punctuated with ample servings of cliche. And a plate of platitude for dessert. Yummy!
A dog's bark is its basic statement about life. It's self-explanatory. Direct and to the point, albeit annoying.
Basically, it's not that easy not being annoyed.
But as the great Zen prophet and wizened old Buddhist poet asshole Bassho said, 'Plenty of time not to be annoyed after you're dead and dust.'
Which, by the way, Bassho is. How's that dead and dust remark sounding now, old man? Bassho walked the entire length of Japan, spreading wisdom, dodging the swords of neurotic, annoyed Samurai, dreaming about a future in which 7-11's would dot the countryside, greatly easing the demands of walking forever in the Japanese wilderness. A friendly clerk, with any luck a pretty young girl wearing a kimono cut short enough to reveal an ankle bone, a rice ball wrapped in plastic with perhaps a bit of incomprehensible fish substance inside. Yes, Bassho was a visionary. He was also a masochist and a freak who spent 30 years walking around in the woods.
Who's to say what makes sense?
Walk on children. And no talking.....
I'm listening to a Jeff Beck CD; live, 2003, at B.B. King's Blues Club in NY.
Now I do not plug music as a rule, but my son does it on his blog and seems to get away with it.
Jeff Beck is clearly not for everyone. Particularly those who insist that a song has to have lyrics or it's just not a song.
But for those with interest in what it's possible to do with an electric guitar, live, that is, not in a studio, I recommend it.
And let's not forget that Jeff is 60, if he's a day. How his heart holds out through some of the riffs he manages to pull off is a mystery, and possibly a medical miracle.
Jeff Beck meets Bassho in the dusty, silent void of pure sound.
They meet on the top of a hill. Two out of their mind poets.
Beck with a Strat in search of a power source not yet invented.
Bassho with a book of happy pure dirt and in need of a bath.
The great gate of the northern mongrels awaits them.
Neither man speaks.
Packs of wild dogs sniff the air, pee harmonically and bark a vision of a future in which the wounded man/beast gets to have sex with the angel of creative madness.
So, Lucy and I walk the middle-sized holy mountain behind our house almost every evening.
She runs, I walk.
It's pretty much spring now and we're looking for bears.
She's looking for stuff to eat, I'm looking for anything that will make me feel alive in a direct an uncomplicated way.
She experiments with being a dog in the woods, I try to stay inside my body and have real thoughts.
Bear Warning Signs are everywhere.
So where are all the fucking bears?
Jeff Beck is playing his version of 'A Day In The Life.'
I saw an amazing shooting star one night on the mountain.
I always stop for a moment beside the stone graves of monks from the nearby temple.
What a cool place to be dead, I say to the dog.
We're already dust, but there's no point dwelling on it.
The humans don't have much of a clue. Just as well.
The smell of mud and wood on the wind.
Bamboo grows here, too.
We're in the Asian dream world
Slow-moving and full of fantasy.
Girls float on air here.
Ghosts are nervous and shy.
Now go find me a bear, you dumb mutt!
(This is an allusion to the Eskimo Paradox, referred to and explained in a previous posting, possibly on another planet.)
All aliens, check your messages!
I'm what is euphemistically called an animal person. I think of myself as both man and beast. I also prefer animals to people. True, a case can be made that animals, in their own way, are as annoying as people, but they rarely, if ever, have stupid opinions which they feel compelled to tell you all about.
Dogs, for example, have fairly basic urges. They make no attempt to disguise these in long-winded verbiage punctuated with ample servings of cliche. And a plate of platitude for dessert. Yummy!
A dog's bark is its basic statement about life. It's self-explanatory. Direct and to the point, albeit annoying.
Basically, it's not that easy not being annoyed.
But as the great Zen prophet and wizened old Buddhist poet asshole Bassho said, 'Plenty of time not to be annoyed after you're dead and dust.'
Which, by the way, Bassho is. How's that dead and dust remark sounding now, old man? Bassho walked the entire length of Japan, spreading wisdom, dodging the swords of neurotic, annoyed Samurai, dreaming about a future in which 7-11's would dot the countryside, greatly easing the demands of walking forever in the Japanese wilderness. A friendly clerk, with any luck a pretty young girl wearing a kimono cut short enough to reveal an ankle bone, a rice ball wrapped in plastic with perhaps a bit of incomprehensible fish substance inside. Yes, Bassho was a visionary. He was also a masochist and a freak who spent 30 years walking around in the woods.
Who's to say what makes sense?
Walk on children. And no talking.....
I'm listening to a Jeff Beck CD; live, 2003, at B.B. King's Blues Club in NY.
Now I do not plug music as a rule, but my son does it on his blog and seems to get away with it.
Jeff Beck is clearly not for everyone. Particularly those who insist that a song has to have lyrics or it's just not a song.
But for those with interest in what it's possible to do with an electric guitar, live, that is, not in a studio, I recommend it.
And let's not forget that Jeff is 60, if he's a day. How his heart holds out through some of the riffs he manages to pull off is a mystery, and possibly a medical miracle.
Jeff Beck meets Bassho in the dusty, silent void of pure sound.
They meet on the top of a hill. Two out of their mind poets.
Beck with a Strat in search of a power source not yet invented.
Bassho with a book of happy pure dirt and in need of a bath.
The great gate of the northern mongrels awaits them.
Neither man speaks.
Packs of wild dogs sniff the air, pee harmonically and bark a vision of a future in which the wounded man/beast gets to have sex with the angel of creative madness.
So, Lucy and I walk the middle-sized holy mountain behind our house almost every evening.
She runs, I walk.
It's pretty much spring now and we're looking for bears.
She's looking for stuff to eat, I'm looking for anything that will make me feel alive in a direct an uncomplicated way.
She experiments with being a dog in the woods, I try to stay inside my body and have real thoughts.
Bear Warning Signs are everywhere.
So where are all the fucking bears?
Jeff Beck is playing his version of 'A Day In The Life.'
I saw an amazing shooting star one night on the mountain.
I always stop for a moment beside the stone graves of monks from the nearby temple.
What a cool place to be dead, I say to the dog.
We're already dust, but there's no point dwelling on it.
The humans don't have much of a clue. Just as well.
The smell of mud and wood on the wind.
Bamboo grows here, too.
We're in the Asian dream world
Slow-moving and full of fantasy.
Girls float on air here.
Ghosts are nervous and shy.
Now go find me a bear, you dumb mutt!
posted by Bruce Leigh at 8:23 PM
3 Comments:
Bassho for Breakfast
Leigh In the Afternoon
Bear #1: Have you seen any signs of life lately on this medium-size mountain of ours?
Bear #2: Funny that you should ask. I mean it's only been, what, a week since we came out of hibernation, and already I've seen the same odd duo four or five times. Some old white man and a black dog, dumber than a pile of sticks. The dog. A young bitch who runs and barks perpetually. You must have seen them, too, by now.
Bear #1: Yup, sounds just like the same two I saw today over near the shrine. I was off a fair distance, but it appeared to me the human was intent on talking to the god.
Bear #2: Dog.
Bear #1: What?
Bear #2: The 'dog.' You said 'god.'
Bear #1: I did not.
Bear #2: Yes, you did. You nearsighted, dyslexic old carnivore! You invert yourself the time.
Bear #1: I've got your inversion right here, you vegetarian-leaning wimp!
Bear #2: Calm down, Nose-In-Air. Don't be so quick to take offense. It derails my train of thought. Not to mention what's left of yours. The point is -- the man was talking to the dog. Repeatedly. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but the god... the dog, that is, she seemed to be taking it all in.
Bear #1: I noticed a strong rapport between them. Odd, isn't it, humans and gods.
Bear #2: Dogs.
Bear #1: Bear with me.
Bear #2: Ha, ha. As if we have a choice. I mean, if we showed ourselves to the human, do you think he'd try talking to us? Or do that stupid play-dead thing some of them do? While his dog goes totally hyper, no doubt, running circles around us and barking herself hoarse? How annoying would that be. Still, it would be interesting if the human spoke to us, like he does with his dog. I wonder if it would be intelligble?
Bear #1: We could put it to the test. Hang out behind the shrine for the next few days on sunny afternoons, and if we see them, pop out and see what happens.
Bear #2: I've been thinking along those lines.
Good Crazy Stuff!
Lucy Leigh, Lucy Leigh, does she have squinty eyes and didn't she make a movie, Charlie's Purebreds with Drew Borrador and Kommder Diaz?
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