eulogy

time to die, every day, till every morning to be reborn, to rise like a phoenix, make the bed, wash the face, hit the keyboard, till that one day, when you really die and you don't wake up and you remain in dreamtime, without time and watch the living spout flames off the tops of their heads with each baby sunrise, round and round we go. 

speak each day to all our unliving ancestors, they're everywhere and nowhere at all. 

larry ruhf, was always the other twin to peter, for me. until i moved to massachusetts at 18. i knew at the get-go like the rest of the ruhe men, larry could be trusted. ruhe men were a haven because i was hot-cakes, the beginning of the new generation, where cecile was the end of sally's. 

larry always stopped by to see chris, and doug, for hugs, for dish, for reflection, for measurement. and i so appreciate it. men loving men, being supportive, clowning it up, owning the stage. the neat guys.

cousin having is a sibblinghood, a vast network of genetic disorganization for optimal health through unity. so going through life and having my mind and heart changed by the changing times, knowing my uncles were good guys, with great hearts was my psychic armor when living and adapting to other people's uncles. i was always able to speak to old guys, any and all, and i learned about the goodness of men, and their evil, safe from harm.

larry tried to run-away to paradise. i didn't have the heart to tell him it would fail miserably. it was the most gung-ho i ever saw him. and since then, the times we shared felt like defeat, and by defeat, the reward of such divine creativity, amazing painting, pure offline joy. 

larry always spoke to me of love, and the women he loved so bad and so dearly, about how concerned he felt about being a burden to anyone, an echo of something doug had said, and chris, and even davido, for that matter. 

where is our power in life beyond the words spoken on our behalf in death?

he ain't heavy, he's my brother. 

 

landlady

 the sum of a blog should eventually become a book.

or several. curator summations of moments in time that create a story line, accountability.

i always write better when i'm not writing. when i'm standing around thinking, which is often and constant, i write perfect sentences summarizing and connecting vastly different ideas that solve mysteries and creates new ones. 

half one's age + 7 is the measure of difference between acceptable and reproachable.

quick how many ten minute videos can you clock in one day?

wednesday astrology: leo leo leo

es como el orto el community standard, si son como las ueas de ueones. pajeros. sexualidad infantil y cosificada. inventos y esquemas ualalas, mal hechas, llamadas economias, econotuyas ueon aueonado. 

que cohetes, que pichas, que precios, que cifras, que ciencias matemáticas para explicar biologías, cosificación po ueon, de tus gonadas caraepicha.

ay si, gracias por el voto en tus democracias y tus filosofías, tonto ueón sin prepucio

facebook jail

 when i get put in facebook jail i come here to blog about why i was put in social media jail.

i was put here to keep my mouth shut, to keep my fingers still, to omit my time on a line of rambled beginnings and endings, to think about the futility of postponing an ending and delaying a beginning.

so i drink beer mostly, and chat with those closest, the ones i call home, the few among the feminine and the masculine who have mastered duality to such a point that a third doesn't matter, or any variation on multiplicity; and marriage and children are an unspoken bond, a sacred trust, that all will attain balance  within process.

i come to blogspot for it's attractive name. buhlog. spotuh. because it's the annals of internets world wide web, berners lee afterthought, the hint of mint but not the leaf.

i organize meet ups among street friends because aunties can't be fighting each other.

i come to blogeh espoteh, to listen to keith jarret koln concerts in it's real tone, not packaged; in it's original gigaherz, from the origin, not it's techno acceptability, at the place i met it when i was a child.

i come here because i am still raw.

51 in the year 2021...

i come here to speak in english.

as an anti-pundit

for i am an expert in experience devoted to intuition. the books have all been grand but they were printed on pine and stood against hemp.

i blog on the ether full aware that print is possible for the uninitiated into the ether. 

that their money and their sorrow may never cross paths. there are x amounts of musical instruments present here on this planet, they are the only means to an end to mineral extraction, they are beyond economics, drudgery and space travel.

brass and leather.

i blog because i have a constant need to be heard, to be acknowledged, to be included in a conversation that has no beginning and no conclusion.

that started this morning that's ending this afternoon.

i come here to set a tiny pebble in the framework of frameworks. 

la última finca, the last farm, was and is and will be tied to seasons, rainfall, wind capacity, fiber.

i am here because i actually don't want my name in any books, i just want to print all the books i have ever read. 

on hemp.

like the bible intended.

i am here because i cannot be anywhere else.