Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Bus ride

Monday Nov 14th
Enruit to Rainbow Israel in a bulletproof bus
Hearing stories of shootings and explosions
Walls of separation
Driving through tunnels under hostile towns
The women besides me explains that we must pray
and hopefully god will listen
"God knows when each strand of hair moves on your body
He can make an RPG misfire"
As I'm writing this, the bus just stopped and the engine turned off.
There was a shooting down the road.
Some Jews get out of the bus to pray.
One passenger, a soldier, grabs his M-16 and two clips and walks down the road.
Armored trucks are everywhere.
I am in what they call the "West Bank"
Which actually lies on the eastern most part of Israel.
This country is a mess and everyone has a different solution. One grabs his bible while the other clutches his gun while I head to the Rainbow.
The Military roadblock was just lifted and our bulletproof bus is the first one down the road where the shooting just took place. As we roll down the road, I think of the infinite could have would haves and did haves that create each moment. A butterfly farts in Mongolia and there's a typhoon in Japan. And What about the traffic lights? Does God himself control these fate determining mass-synchronization machines?
As the bus comes to a stop at resevoir road near the town of seven wells, we disembark and begin our journey through the night following rock piles into the rainbow. Under the cover of the full moon I remark to my brother "It is quite possible this day has not yet climaxed". And it hadn't...

Saturday, November 12, 2005

The Clone Dupe

I came in my room in Jerusalem, and my replica was hiding under a sheet in the bed next to mine. We hugged like this for an eternitiy. People in the room were imaging us as wagging taled puppies. Life is Perfect..........

Friday, November 11, 2005

Playing DIrty

At the dead sea

Got Clone?


Thursday, November 03, 2005

Just a glimpse

I've spent the last little while at a renegade farm in the mountains, where Samson once lived, helping a friend turn a tract of dry land into a luscious blooming field of herbs and yummy food. I have a donkey. His name is Kunta. He is an Angry donkey. I learned to tame, saddle and ride kunta from a snake catching, exotic parrot breading, peyote' shaman named Lester. Technically the donkey belongs to this man but the donkey stays with us next to the late 1800's British train car that we're based out of. No Electric, no running water=no problems. Two days ago I was making tea by the fire and a heard of 170 goats passed by. I spent the day with them and their herdswomen. The goats listen better then the Kunta. Yesterday I worked in the field, processed freshly picked herbs, discussed radical politics with a Brahman guru groundskeeper who works the night shift at an Arabian horse stable, whos from Goa India, who has a dreadlocked beard that's white at the roots and it almost reaches his stomach and who was once an heir to an aristocratic throne. Later I jammed in hut atop a mountain, where rebel Jews once hid out in dug-out caves to hide from the Romans, with a semi-famous musician who gets play on the radio. Then hopped a ride to Jerusalem to play a gig at a bar till the wee hours.
-No details in this story have been exaggerated and some of the names may have been altered to protect their identities

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

New Heaven

Mi donkey Kunta
The train car
The Samson Mountains