the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
ramble on... ~ june 24, 2001 - 4:50 p.m. I can't seem to keep my eyes open... I keep taking naps... I'm catlike sleepy in the sunshine... last night I slept up at the treesit, woke to loggers, telling us we were on private property and had to leave. we pretended to be hikers, who got lost and camped there randomly. the woman in the tree told us she'd heard us, and believed it. she wondered who we were. she told us she'd come down and checked us out last night when we were sleeping. we asked what they needed, and they said water. they said that people on the ground were getting harrassed by the loggers. they lowered a line and we sent up what water we had left (about a half a gallon), a couple of cigarettes, a can of fruit salad, and some tea tree toothpicks (guess who put those in)...we promised to come back with more water. I may spend a few days up in the tree. their platform is something like 175 feet up, and sways with the tree in the wind. the woman in the tree told me that one of the loggers that woke us up had come up under their tree and fired up a chainsaw, until she called down that they were watching and videotaping. I had another goodbye with ever, one last night together before he goes into the yoga teacher's training intensive he's taking up at mount madonna. he sold a painting for $850 to pay for the intensive. he's shaved his beard, and looks completely different, but still so completely like himself. he looks about seventeen... I am fascinated by the expressions that show on his face, I spent my last day with him at kiva, and I just kept staring at the delicate angles of his facial structure unveiled. beardless, your eyes focus on his strikingly beautiful high cheekbones, and large dreamwater eyes drenched in feelings. he is more beautiful than he knows, and I wonder how many men I have known this about, known the beauty of their souls better than they did themselves. and oh I have known some beautiful men. and goddess women. oh yes my bed has been blessed. I am learning to let go and love simultaneously. loving with an open heart. I feel as if ariana is missing. ariana? the moon waxes and I'm calling your name...
(((rings))) |