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Meet Miss Coco Le Vin Erotica is using a feather, pornography is using the whole chicken... http://www.reallyweirdstuff.com/cocolevin.htm Why? There is an art show this weekend up in Sacramento, CA, dedicated to THE CHICKEN. Everything chicken, eggs and cocks... It's this Saturday, August 14th 6:00pm - 11:00pm@ The Sub Q, 714 K St. Sacramento, CA 95814 ~ There will be music, and yep...I'm singing about chickens, cocks...maybe bacon. |
August 9, 2010
Henhouse Letters...
July 27, 2010
The Golden Ratio = 1.61803399, Timewave Zero & Naps...
Today felt like I was given this gift of unemployment/rest as a great thank you for service; a service of smiles, warm comfort food hugs and great music. I am so thankful for this time off right now. I found it hard to get out of bed today, I really need some sleep. I have so much to do, so many fun things to accomplish with this free time, and I found myself wide awake in the dark of my bed room last night thinking about Timewave Zero Theory. Novelty it’s my life. When I compare myself to the western world and its culture, I sure have not been at home. I was born here, but I mean – I am so different compared to the left brained dominant society. The way I have lived my life has been novel. I didn’t do what I was told, ever…pretty much.
*
*
I live every moment following my instincts. I always end up meeting the most interesting beautiful people doing something great in ways I could have not imagined using my monkey mind. Living open in the Now state of consciousness and practicing being here and in present time has been the greatest gift my life has given me so far. I guess not having a lot of expectations makes life full of wonderment and appreciation for beauty and novelty as it unfolds and as I create it. It’s emotionally and psychologically simpler. It is gentler on the soul overall.*
I remember how amazed I was as an American woman visiting Aix en Provence in the south of France on holiday and watching them close all the businesses at noon for the afternoon break/siesta and thinking how astonishing that was, a whole culture stopping to sit down and rest for awhile. Americans don’t do that. That had a profound effect on me, plus I am a big fan of naps. In my art, one theme and shape that has always shown up is the Golden Mean, a large spiral…. A swirl, be it spinning or not always is in all of my artistic self expressions. It vibrates different patterns by each different frequency and uncovers the hidden meme that is in all creation here in this third density. As if consciousness itself were creating itself with every emotion, swirling, turning, and rippling upward and also downward, are separating onward both directions into eternity of awareness’s. Whoa.
*I think Terrence McKenna was an epic explorer for the human spirit. I think his Timewave Zero Theory is interesting, especially the way it seems to be mapping out profound human world events in a linear timeline. What had me staying in bed was the realization that according to the theory, the concentration of such events replicating history is being condensed within this very spiral of time. Not that time is speeding up, but that Novelty is, much more creation within a shorter amount of time. Look at nanotechnology and the advancements in science today. It is undeniable. The suppression of energy and health technologies will no longer be able to be held back. New thoughts and novelty are afoot my friends.
*
*
I just laid here today thinking about how intense it is to be alive during this pinnacle time in human history, and thankful that I get to have a front row seat during the immense change that is happening. It makes me want to kick Ray Kurzweil in the head. It feels like we are being squeezed through a big birth canal of conciousness. I just hope it won’t hurt too much before it gets better, and if it does, I’ll be here in service; a service of smiles, warm comfort food hugs and great music to get you through it. Watch these....
June 30, 2010
Invisible Ink
Every time I really cum
I mean cum like earth shattering orgasmic
over the top sing the star spangled banner CUM,
I cry….weep… and curse his name…..still, after all these years.
It is like his cock crept into my heart
and signed his name on it,
and the only way for me to get the memo
is to unabashedly strum a G major concerto on my “Clitar” until the truth be told.
He had me, much more then I knew.
You would think the magnitude of the blast would certainly clear the pathways connected from ones pussy to ones heart.
It’s been so long since I’ve opened mine in the presence of a well inked hard cock.
I think the next time if I'm lucky enough
to find myself in the presence of great love again
and have the nerve to open my heart completely in the heat of passion
I will take the time to read the fine print,
and appreciate what I have.
I mean cum like earth shattering orgasmic
over the top sing the star spangled banner CUM,
I cry….weep… and curse his name…..still, after all these years.
It is like his cock crept into my heart
and signed his name on it,
and the only way for me to get the memo
is to unabashedly strum a G major concerto on my “Clitar” until the truth be told.
He had me, much more then I knew.
You would think the magnitude of the blast would certainly clear the pathways connected from ones pussy to ones heart.
It’s been so long since I’ve opened mine in the presence of a well inked hard cock.
I think the next time if I'm lucky enough
to find myself in the presence of great love again
and have the nerve to open my heart completely in the heat of passion
I will take the time to read the fine print,
and appreciate what I have.
April 8, 2010
Wrong kind of Wet Spots
I still cry when I cum
Tears like grieving
For all of the wet spots
we will never make
Together.
Tears like grieving
For all of the wet spots
we will never make
Together.
April 6, 2010
32nd Annual St. Stupid's Day 2010 - Stupid Good Times!
The sign I made said, "Coalition for Silly Nun-Sense." Best Stupid Thing I've done so far this year! http://www.saintstupid.com/
March 8, 2010
For the writers out there.....
This was sent to me to today and I had to share it with you. Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year for their amusement.
1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. Instead of 7:30.
12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19PM, at a speed of 35 mph.
15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something. (My personal favorite!)
23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. Instead of 7:30.
12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19PM, at a speed of 35 mph.
15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something. (My personal favorite!)
23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
March 4, 2010
How I started my first Art Car...
A few years back I had a beater faded Honda Civic hatchback I bought from my roommate’s hairdresser. She was one of those cool scary chicks that turned the back part of her house into a cheesy cool salon; she worked on mostly old blue haired ladies. I thought of that when I drove the old blue colored car away that day for $400.
Shortly after this, I was given a fake severed arm by my boss, Dr. Don Francis, leaving the company Halloween/His Birthday party from work one night. For fun I left it hanging out the back of the hatchback. It was funny, seeing some ridiculous human bloody rubber arm dangling there at a stop light. I would wait for the response from the car behind me…waiting to see if they noticed it. It was so out of place. Most the time they would smile and laugh, or shake there head at me when driving by. I loved that dead arm. I kept in on there for over two years. The arm out lasted the car. : )
For the past couple years she has been house bound sitting pretty in the driveway. She has had some doctors poke around and clean her engine up a bit, but she needs a good man who knows what he’s doing. She was able to make it for Art car Fest 2009 and briefly was in a movie shoot before her last heart attack. We are seeking a new VW surgeon to help work out the bugs in her 1700 cc Porsche 914 high performance engine, preferably someone who also believes in the importance of cocktail camping and mobile art expression.
She wields a power for freedom. She gives the world permission to be creative and funny and ridiculous in a beautiful way. I won’t give up on her, no matter what my friends say. The Leopard Lounge aka The Fahrvernpüssy Lounge will live on.
I encourage you to start your own Art Car. It's a liberating exciting fun experience. You meet the most interesting people everywhere you go.
Shortly after this, I was given a fake severed arm by my boss, Dr. Don Francis, leaving the company Halloween/His Birthday party from work one night. For fun I left it hanging out the back of the hatchback. It was funny, seeing some ridiculous human bloody rubber arm dangling there at a stop light. I would wait for the response from the car behind me…waiting to see if they noticed it. It was so out of place. Most the time they would smile and laugh, or shake there head at me when driving by. I loved that dead arm. I kept in on there for over two years. The arm out lasted the car. : )
I always wanted a VW Camper Bus, and had been doing more camping adventures and Lord knows I needed a better way to haul the sound system for my jazz gigs etc. I finally found an amazing deal on Craigslist, a 1973 Type 2 VW Camper Bus from Berkeley, CA in pretty ugly condition, but no rust and it ran great for $800.
It had some custom interior work done to it inside, but let me tell ya, it was funky, yet I could see the beauty even through the Deadhead stickers. All it needed was a little TLC and she could be amazing. I drove her away happy a hell. I had no idea what I was going to do to it. I’d come home from work and stare at it for hours. Dead arms lingered in my brain as I started cleaning her up.
My jazz band is called Dangerous Martini; we do cocktail jazz and blues, bebop, swing and straight ahead jazz. One night it hit me, I’ve got to turn this into a Retro Cocktail Lounge! Visions of Leopard fur, martini glasses, and swanky atomic cocktail visions over took my common sense. I began a clandestine affair with the local hardware, fabric and art supply stores. I was shameless. What once was an idea became an obsession. Every night I would come home and work on her a little more in the dimly lit covered apartment garage in Emeryville, CA.
It had some custom interior work done to it inside, but let me tell ya, it was funky, yet I could see the beauty even through the Deadhead stickers. All it needed was a little TLC and she could be amazing. I drove her away happy a hell. I had no idea what I was going to do to it. I’d come home from work and stare at it for hours. Dead arms lingered in my brain as I started cleaning her up.
My jazz band is called Dangerous Martini; we do cocktail jazz and blues, bebop, swing and straight ahead jazz. One night it hit me, I’ve got to turn this into a Retro Cocktail Lounge! Visions of Leopard fur, martini glasses, and swanky atomic cocktail visions over took my common sense. I began a clandestine affair with the local hardware, fabric and art supply stores. I was shameless. What once was an idea became an obsession. Every night I would come home and work on her a little more in the dimly lit covered apartment garage in Emeryville, CA.
It was like I had to prove something to the world. That there was something beautiful behind that old funky lady from the early 70’s and I was going to uncover it. It was my daily driver to my corporate day job, when I cruised down the road I felt like she was saying “Wake Up – Take a Chance – Don’t be afraid to be different” to all the "Greige" (Grey-Beige) obedient conservative safe mundane cars out there that all look the same. It seemed more important than just seeing the smiling faces in my rear view mirror.
She has been to many Art car events and parades. I would take naps in her on my lunch break. She was my secret escape pod, my safe refuge and trusted friend. She is a camper, a mobile bar, she is a lifestyle. I always had a cozy place to sleep and was ready to roll for many adventures at a moments notice, and we have. Over the years she has had her health problems, she is what we diplomatic ladies refer to as “Vintage”. She has spent more times then I would like to mention on tow trucks, injured in dusty fringe towns and has even spent some time in jail. She is seasoned yet wise, but always warm, comfortable delicious and fabulous.
She wields a power for freedom. She gives the world permission to be creative and funny and ridiculous in a beautiful way. I won’t give up on her, no matter what my friends say. The Leopard Lounge aka The Fahrvernpüssy Lounge will live on.
I encourage you to start your own Art Car. It's a liberating exciting fun experience. You meet the most interesting people everywhere you go.
March 3, 2010
Be it ever so illusive, there is no place like it.
My computer is back in the shop and I’m on a loner the housemates have loaned me until my exit, which is next week. I’m still in search of, we all seem to continue to search for…. HOME. Be it ever so illusive, there is NO PLACE like it. The job market here in the south bay area has dried up. Silicon Valley feels like it did back in 2001 when the dot com crash occurred, it’s time to go back to Oakland, back to where my stuff is still in storage. I have been paying $150.00 a month for two years. Living out of a suitcase, renting rooms isn’t easy when you have two kitties in tow. Sometimes I know they are the only thing keeping me from living in my car.
I’ve been pricing RV”s lately, interviewing artist friends and professionals who are self employed who successfully live in them and travel all over the country. Lusting after this ‘Jayco Seneca ZX Motor Home Class C - Toy hauler’ – An upscale RV with a garage is giving me ideas of becoming a vagabond gypsy for the last half of my life, living in some sort of artistic fashion. Toting my own ‘Green Room’ to my gigs, having a cozy place to stay is appealing. Home is not always where your stuff is, it's where your Whoo Whoo is. : )
The thought of buying a home that was built for someone else that is too close to other houses on some kind of grid is not appealing to me. When I do decide to drop an anchor, it will be on some open land with lots of trees and sunshine. Where I can build a creative mansion out of shipping containers on high ground and get completely off the grid. The idea of working for 6 months and taking 6 months off is exciting. That is why I like doing contract work, but I am looking at how I can be successfully self employed working from my computer at home.
So it’s back to San Francisco for a high paying corporate contract gig, renting a room with a friend, saving every penny I can, paying back friends who have helped me and seeking some creative financing to start my rolling condo adventure, the payments on it will be my mortgage. Be it ever so illusive, there is no place like it where ever it may be.
I’ve been pricing RV”s lately, interviewing artist friends and professionals who are self employed who successfully live in them and travel all over the country. Lusting after this ‘Jayco Seneca ZX Motor Home Class C - Toy hauler’ – An upscale RV with a garage is giving me ideas of becoming a vagabond gypsy for the last half of my life, living in some sort of artistic fashion. Toting my own ‘Green Room’ to my gigs, having a cozy place to stay is appealing. Home is not always where your stuff is, it's where your Whoo Whoo is. : )
The thought of buying a home that was built for someone else that is too close to other houses on some kind of grid is not appealing to me. When I do decide to drop an anchor, it will be on some open land with lots of trees and sunshine. Where I can build a creative mansion out of shipping containers on high ground and get completely off the grid. The idea of working for 6 months and taking 6 months off is exciting. That is why I like doing contract work, but I am looking at how I can be successfully self employed working from my computer at home.
So it’s back to San Francisco for a high paying corporate contract gig, renting a room with a friend, saving every penny I can, paying back friends who have helped me and seeking some creative financing to start my rolling condo adventure, the payments on it will be my mortgage. Be it ever so illusive, there is no place like it where ever it may be.
February 13, 2010
Bill Hicks was right.
I found myself a few years back in the woods with 78 of my favorite people, playing great music, cooking yummy feasts, dancing like fools, drinking excellent home brews and this particular night I had, involved a nice size mushroom cap and stem. The stars are extra bright up there because there are no city lights or street lights within miles. It was a warm safe beautiful night to become quiet and take an inner journey, so I did.
I walked back to my VW camper bus and laid on the bed with the back hatch wide open to the dazzling night sky. When the psilocybe magic began to open my eyes I saw the stars smile at me and wink as if I was being watched over. Suddenly the realization hit me,
I am creating everything that I am. Every thought that I have - Is a thing. Thoughts Are Things. I choose what I want to experience. All of it. I AM actually infinite consciousness creating a five sense physical experience. All matter IS merely energy condensed to a slow vibration; We are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Bill Hicks was right.
Wow! I felt my heart open and could smell the eatrh and the bay trees near by applaud me for remembering who I was. I looked back up at the stars and winked back like it was our special secret. They winked back at me.
Suddenly I felt a full heart of love for myself, for the first time in my life - it was so healing; I felt love and deep appreciation for myself as a person, as if all of the negative things I had ever believed about myself were erased and transformed. I laid there sobbing tears of joy and happiness, relief and contentment. It was so validating. Then I started laughing my ass off…. Realizing…. Wow! I’m a middle aged artistic fun loving woman, lying in a VW art car Camper painted like a Leopard, tripping balls, in love with all of life and the universe. I like my choice! It was like the ultimate hug.
Four days later when I returned home from the trip, I quit my day job and made some huge changes in my life. That feeling has never left me.
I walked back to my VW camper bus and laid on the bed with the back hatch wide open to the dazzling night sky. When the psilocybe magic began to open my eyes I saw the stars smile at me and wink as if I was being watched over. Suddenly the realization hit me,
I am creating everything that I am. Every thought that I have - Is a thing. Thoughts Are Things. I choose what I want to experience. All of it. I AM actually infinite consciousness creating a five sense physical experience. All matter IS merely energy condensed to a slow vibration; We are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Bill Hicks was right.
Wow! I felt my heart open and could smell the eatrh and the bay trees near by applaud me for remembering who I was. I looked back up at the stars and winked back like it was our special secret. They winked back at me.
Suddenly I felt a full heart of love for myself, for the first time in my life - it was so healing; I felt love and deep appreciation for myself as a person, as if all of the negative things I had ever believed about myself were erased and transformed. I laid there sobbing tears of joy and happiness, relief and contentment. It was so validating. Then I started laughing my ass off…. Realizing…. Wow! I’m a middle aged artistic fun loving woman, lying in a VW art car Camper painted like a Leopard, tripping balls, in love with all of life and the universe. I like my choice! It was like the ultimate hug.
Four days later when I returned home from the trip, I quit my day job and made some huge changes in my life. That feeling has never left me.
January 4, 2010
Happy New Year World!
I hope this year brings you as much joy, freedom and laughter as you can withstand.
December 29, 2009
UFOs And Human Mutilations ~ Butch Witkowski
his Presentation by a 27 year veteran homicide detective should be given a ear. Butch Witkowski is a MUFON volunteer investigator. What he presented at the annual Pennsylvania Local MUFON conference on human bodies found mutilated like the cattle may shock you, but it deserves a listen.
Read: "UFOs And Human Mutilations" at UFO Media Matters http://ufomedia.blogspot.com
Read: "UFOs And Human Mutilations" at UFO Media Matters http://ufomedia.blogspot.com
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
November 23, 2009
What are Artists?
I guess with most great artists comes a tortured soul of some sort. The REAL good ones are seasoned with broken hearts, shattered dreams and mental illness. If they don’t create or allow themselves the freedom of Self Expression, they end up lost or dead or worse, sucked onto the Hamster Wheel of Society, running for their lives like corporate slaves to the pre-designed culture… on the great wheel of death and taxes…debt, TV, mortgage, kids, spouse, Fear, family obligations, keeping a human contained and enslaved lifetime after lifetime.
The artist has the audacity to say NO to the system, they find a way to bring back what is missing, and that is The Spirit of us all. Artists remind us of why we ARE here on this planet after all, and what makes life so very much worth living. They live rocky lives so they can remind themselves, and along their self discovery, we find personal truths within their beauty of self expression.
I guess this is what my life is about right now. Being a torch singer can be hard on the heart. I just am tired of being so friggin tortured, maybe I need a break from singing such sad songs for awhile. Maybe “Longing” is getting boring for me. I’m feeling like adventure is afoot in my soul and I need to set sail for some new sort of living. Maybe become a gypsy for awhile and live in between the cracks. Become an observer of beauty and life for awhile.
Like a hidden butterfly on the wall of the world.
The artist has the audacity to say NO to the system, they find a way to bring back what is missing, and that is The Spirit of us all. Artists remind us of why we ARE here on this planet after all, and what makes life so very much worth living. They live rocky lives so they can remind themselves, and along their self discovery, we find personal truths within their beauty of self expression.
I guess this is what my life is about right now. Being a torch singer can be hard on the heart. I just am tired of being so friggin tortured, maybe I need a break from singing such sad songs for awhile. Maybe “Longing” is getting boring for me. I’m feeling like adventure is afoot in my soul and I need to set sail for some new sort of living. Maybe become a gypsy for awhile and live in between the cracks. Become an observer of beauty and life for awhile.
Like a hidden butterfly on the wall of the world.
June 16, 2009
I'm Glad I'm Immature For My Age...
I walked by a window and saw myself today. It was the first time I stopped and saw a middle aged women in the reflection smiling back at me and I didn't look away, I just stood there and smiled. It felt weird because I'm still 22 inside.
I felt a lot better when I walked to my car...
I'm thankful to be alive.
I felt a lot better when I walked to my car...
I'm thankful to be alive.
May 28, 2009
Chinese New Year May Be Dangerous....
I don't know if this is just a sick coincidence but,
2007 - Chinese year of the Chicken - Bird Flu Pandemic devastates parts of Asia
2008 - Chinese year of the Horse - Equine Influenza decimates Australian racing
2009 - Chinese year of the Pig - Swine Flu Pandemic kills hundreds of pigs around the globe.
Has any one else noticed this? It gets worse, next year ......
2010 - Chinese year of the Cock - what could possibly go wrong?
2007 - Chinese year of the Chicken - Bird Flu Pandemic devastates parts of Asia
2008 - Chinese year of the Horse - Equine Influenza decimates Australian racing
2009 - Chinese year of the Pig - Swine Flu Pandemic kills hundreds of pigs around the globe.
Has any one else noticed this? It gets worse, next year ......
2010 - Chinese year of the Cock - what could possibly go wrong?
May 6, 2009
Tom Kennedy Lives Forever In Us!
He died
on my comforting beach
my favorite secret escape
from the city
my kite flying childhood cherished beach
he must have felt the same love for those waves
for the sun
and how it would set so deliciously
on those perfect Sundays
He died on a day that signifies rising from the dead
Doing something he loved
He lives forever in us.
on my comforting beach
my favorite secret escape
from the city
my kite flying childhood cherished beach
he must have felt the same love for those waves
for the sun
and how it would set so deliciously
on those perfect Sundays
He died on a day that signifies rising from the dead
Doing something he loved
He lives forever in us.
April 13, 2009
Tom Kennedy? ... Our Tom Kennedy?
Tom Kennedy... whose websites & videos I have posted all over Really Weird Stuff.Com for years, who I have had the biggest crush on for years, who has been one of the most inspiring political activists, artists, creative genius’s and adorable knuckleheads in the bay area went body surfing on Ocean Beach in San Francisco yesterday and drowned?
I really can't believe it is true, I'm still in shock. So young... I am so sick. We were just in an art car caravan in the Castro….this can't be true? http://www.sfexaminer.com/local/Ocean-Beach-drowning-victim-a-pillar-in-local-art-community-42935317.html
I really can't believe it is true, I'm still in shock. So young... I am so sick. We were just in an art car caravan in the Castro….this can't be true? http://www.sfexaminer.com/local/Ocean-Beach-drowning-victim-a-pillar-in-local-art-community-42935317.html
March 30, 2009
All I ask....
Do you remember when...
I was seven and you were eight, and we were playing hide and seek and wandered far away from the other kids. We ended up beneath a willow tree, and you asked me if I wanted to play doctor and I said, "okay!" So you said you needed to examine me, so I pulled up the skirt on my pink polka-dotted dress, and pulled down my panties and you looked very carefully to make sure that I wasn't sick. And then I was the doctor and you pulled down your shorts and underwear and I stared, amazed to see how different you were...
And do you remember your hand between my legs when I was your childhood sweetheart and we were necking in the back of a '57 Chevy? I was a good Catholic girl, so we never had intercourse, but after a lot of petting and promises, you could pretty much touch me wherever you wanted, though I never took my clothes off. Your hands would slip beneath my white blouse and push my bra off my firm young breasts and sometimes I'd let you unbutton the blouse so that you could suck on the dark pink nipples while your fingers slid beneath white cotton panties to the thick swatch of blond hair and then up and inside me, and we were trying so hard to be quiet even though we were up at Lookout Point and the only people around were other couples in other cars doing exactly what we were doing...
Or maybe you don't like me as a blonde. Maybe you prefer me as your wife, with sweet brown curls and a surprisingly wicked streak. You like me whispering suggestions in your ear, "Let me touch you, let me suck you, let me lick your cock, your balls, your asshole...call me your little girl and I'll call you daddy...call me your slut, your whore, whatever you like but please fuck me now -- I'll beg you if you want, oh yes..."
Would you prefer to beg? Me with flowing auburn hair down to my butt and green eyes and all in black. A black leather bodice laced tight so my breasts overflowed at the top, and black leather pants with the crotch cut out and black boots with five-inch spike heels and a nine-tailed cat in my hands, its soft leather aching for your back. I'd have you on your knees beneath me, begging for a chance to please your mistress, and I'd slap your face saying, "Who gave you permission to speak, little boy?! You only open your mouth when I say you do, understand? And now I want you to use it, crawl over here and lick me like you mean it." And when you do, I will get angry, and say you aren't doing a good job, and the cat will rain blows on your naked back and you will kneel there, silently begging with your eyes and trying not to scream...
I can be everything your heart desires -- everything your groin demands. And all I ask is that you never expect me to fold the laundry.
I was seven and you were eight, and we were playing hide and seek and wandered far away from the other kids. We ended up beneath a willow tree, and you asked me if I wanted to play doctor and I said, "okay!" So you said you needed to examine me, so I pulled up the skirt on my pink polka-dotted dress, and pulled down my panties and you looked very carefully to make sure that I wasn't sick. And then I was the doctor and you pulled down your shorts and underwear and I stared, amazed to see how different you were...
And do you remember your hand between my legs when I was your childhood sweetheart and we were necking in the back of a '57 Chevy? I was a good Catholic girl, so we never had intercourse, but after a lot of petting and promises, you could pretty much touch me wherever you wanted, though I never took my clothes off. Your hands would slip beneath my white blouse and push my bra off my firm young breasts and sometimes I'd let you unbutton the blouse so that you could suck on the dark pink nipples while your fingers slid beneath white cotton panties to the thick swatch of blond hair and then up and inside me, and we were trying so hard to be quiet even though we were up at Lookout Point and the only people around were other couples in other cars doing exactly what we were doing...
Or maybe you don't like me as a blonde. Maybe you prefer me as your wife, with sweet brown curls and a surprisingly wicked streak. You like me whispering suggestions in your ear, "Let me touch you, let me suck you, let me lick your cock, your balls, your asshole...call me your little girl and I'll call you daddy...call me your slut, your whore, whatever you like but please fuck me now -- I'll beg you if you want, oh yes..."
Would you prefer to beg? Me with flowing auburn hair down to my butt and green eyes and all in black. A black leather bodice laced tight so my breasts overflowed at the top, and black leather pants with the crotch cut out and black boots with five-inch spike heels and a nine-tailed cat in my hands, its soft leather aching for your back. I'd have you on your knees beneath me, begging for a chance to please your mistress, and I'd slap your face saying, "Who gave you permission to speak, little boy?! You only open your mouth when I say you do, understand? And now I want you to use it, crawl over here and lick me like you mean it." And when you do, I will get angry, and say you aren't doing a good job, and the cat will rain blows on your naked back and you will kneel there, silently begging with your eyes and trying not to scream...
I can be everything your heart desires -- everything your groin demands. And all I ask is that you never expect me to fold the laundry.
March 12, 2009
March 1, 2009
January 20, 2009
Inaugural Kick Off Day...
Same Game, New Quarterback...
Intelligent friends that I know are doing back flips at the thought of a new Democratic President, but for the objective thinking folks out there yes it's a huge breakthrough for the racism that needs to be put to rest in this country, and this is a new day indeed where that is concerned.
But dear world I implore you.. what is with this, "Oh I hope he can save us crap?" Do you still believe that the US president runs the country? Whether you are aware of it or not, there are waring power hungry factions fighting one another behind the scenes over who gets to control - YOU.
The short of it is that humans have been manipulated on many levels for who knows how many thousands of years. What the control freaks behind the curtain don't want you to know is:
1. You out number them.
2. You are more powerful then you realize.
3. You create your world with every thought, and belief and action.
If you REALLY want change, STOP THINKING YOU NEED TO BE SAVED!!!! Big Daddy Government, Big Daddy Religion have been controlling you for too long. Pick yourself up and grow something, build something, create something for yourselves and your community.
When you REALLY need help, it will be there when you reach out to your divine connection. However you do that is up to you.
When you give up your personal independence in order to "Be Protected" you give up your free will. The BIG SECRET that has been hidden from you and is being kept from your awareness at all costs is that YOU ARE AN INFINITE POWERFUL IMMORTAL BEING OF DIVINE LIGHT.
When you remember this, who you REALLY ARE... you will no longer live in fear of death. You will change and so will the world, for the better. Your inner eyes will open and you will see what and who you are. The hope you are looking for in your saviours - is within yourselves. We are awaking from a long slumber. It is time to stand up and shine.
January 18, 2009
I had the weirdest dream last night...
I was sitting in a lounge chair at a school in some other time and place. I took a drink of something then laid back and put on a pair of special glasses. As soon as I relaxed a full experiential movie began, and I experienced being born as a baby girl….it was this life, as myself now.
What was most interesting though, was at night time when I was “Asleep” here in the experiential movie, I in the Reality where I laying down in the class, was able to take off the glasses and reflect upon what I was learning ask questions and anticipate on what was going to happen next in the class.
When I returned to the lounge chair, sipped from the glass and placed the glasses back on my face, I would go back into this experiential movie experience and overtime I would forget who I was and get caught up in it. I guess graduation would be death, but that I’m not sure of.
It seems very Real the sense that I am somewhere else just experiencing this personality of Tré Taylor.
Have you ever had this feeling before?
What was most interesting though, was at night time when I was “Asleep” here in the experiential movie, I in the Reality where I laying down in the class, was able to take off the glasses and reflect upon what I was learning ask questions and anticipate on what was going to happen next in the class.
When I returned to the lounge chair, sipped from the glass and placed the glasses back on my face, I would go back into this experiential movie experience and overtime I would forget who I was and get caught up in it. I guess graduation would be death, but that I’m not sure of.
It seems very Real the sense that I am somewhere else just experiencing this personality of Tré Taylor.
Have you ever had this feeling before?
January 8, 2009
Cold Remedy Cocktail
Geez... everybody I know is down with the sickness this week.
I'm hoping you have a great reason to be sick as hell. If you don't, I suggest you start drinking laborious amounts of Jägermeister immediately.
Get well soon, or at least the day after tomorrow.
xxoo
III
I'm hoping you have a great reason to be sick as hell. If you don't, I suggest you start drinking laborious amounts of Jägermeister immediately.
Get well soon, or at least the day after tomorrow.
xxoo
III
December 24, 2008
December 22, 2008
San Francisco's Street Pathological Citizens Awards...
San Francisco is an amazing place to work, there is so much to do and see and experience. I love the sites, the restaurants and most of all the people.
Some of the most talented, bizzare and amazing folks from all over the world come to San Francisco and never leave. I am particularly fond of our famous street pathological citizens, these three are close to my heart...
1. There is a guy here in the Financial District that brings his keyboard out around noon everyday and plays it as loud and as horibbly as possible. I dropped a dollar in his bucket one day and he then smiled at me and played a perfectly classic beautiful rendition of Beethoven's 5th Symphony. Brilliant! Who ever you are... I love you man!
2. Of course there is Frank Chu... of "12 Galaxies" - I bought him a beer once. He talked my ear off. He is a man with a mission. Keep up the good work Frank!
Ya Gotta Love Frank, check him out here...
3. The Famous Fisherman's Wharf David Johnson "The Bush Man" is one of my favorite brilliant street performing locals. Check out this video to get an idea why...
xxoooxxxooo
III
Some of the most talented, bizzare and amazing folks from all over the world come to San Francisco and never leave. I am particularly fond of our famous street pathological citizens, these three are close to my heart...
1. There is a guy here in the Financial District that brings his keyboard out around noon everyday and plays it as loud and as horibbly as possible. I dropped a dollar in his bucket one day and he then smiled at me and played a perfectly classic beautiful rendition of Beethoven's 5th Symphony. Brilliant! Who ever you are... I love you man!
2. Of course there is Frank Chu... of "12 Galaxies" - I bought him a beer once. He talked my ear off. He is a man with a mission. Keep up the good work Frank!
Ya Gotta Love Frank, check him out here...
3. The Famous Fisherman's Wharf David Johnson "The Bush Man" is one of my favorite brilliant street performing locals. Check out this video to get an idea why...
xxoooxxxooo
III
December 8, 2008
Classic VW Art Car Blues...
I have super bad news... : (
I took out a loan and just had the transmission, clutch & brakes replaced on the bus...Just when I thought she was purring happy and finally fixed...one week later she hoarked a piston and now I have lost the engine. I wish the mechanic would have caught that little detail before she crapped out on me. At least she didn't catch fire. That's what happens when you fall in love with a classic car, with an attitude.
The rebuild is going to cost something like $3900 to do (I thought this was a little high, I'm getting a second opinion/quote soon)...so it looks like the Fahrvernpussy will be hanging in the driveway until I can find a VW bus mechanic who can work on her (Hell, there may be a creative artcar fundrasier down the road... : )
I need to get some other little set of wheels in the meantime...Something hideous but runs great! Like a reiliable granny car. Looks like another little artcar may be brewing... one that is reliable.
December 5, 2008
Holiday Eating Etiquette
1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.
2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. It's rare. You cannot find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnog-alcoholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you think. It's Christmas!
3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.
4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.
5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hello!?!?
6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.
7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never going to see them again.
8. Same for pies. Apple, Pumpkin, Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?
9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards.
10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner.
Remember this motto to live by:"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!
"Have a great holiday season
December 2, 2008
Who'da Thunk?
It's nice to know someone's "Wife" is reading this new silly little blog...
I wish you both as much freedom...
love...
and joy..
as you can withstand.
CONGRADULATIONS?
I wish you both as much freedom...
love...
and joy..
as you can withstand.
CONGRADULATIONS?
November 26, 2008
November 13, 2008
The Fahrvernpüssy Lounge VW Art Car Logo
For those of you who haven't seen my art car "The Fahrvernpüssy Lounge"... here is the logo I am fooling around with... I'm putting this on the front spare tire cover of the bus, and maybe some T- Shirts for next years Artcar Fest. What do you think of this? Click logo for closer look....
The caption should read somthing like.....
Fahrvernpüssy, "Driving Purring Pussy Pleasure."
The caption should read somthing like.....
Fahrvernpüssy, "Driving Purring Pussy Pleasure."
What saying's can you come up with?
November 5, 2008
A New Day for Southern Pie...
I hope that some old black man in the south who has been treated like shit for years gives it to some whitey republican asshole today...
"Shut your Republican American Pie hole, we have a Black President Now."
"Shut your Republican American Pie hole, we have a Black President Now."
November 4, 2008
Election Night 2008...
I don't own a television. I decided to end my "Programming" after my departure from North Berkeley. I don't need to even watch the news online... It is no shock that U.S. Presidents aren't elected in this country for as much as we wish they were. They are appointed.
The J.F.K. karmic echo smells like Barack Obama. Wow, his initials are "B.O." It would be cool if his middle name was Roscoe, "B.R.O.?" That would be too krunk. His actual name is Barack Hussein Obama II. That can't be good. Who knows McCain could be the guy, they are still counting ballots... let's see what Florida comes up with this time.
I didn't vote for Obama or McCain, they both have attended Bilderberg meetings. Yet when you think of who would be president if either were assassinated, which Vice President would you want in their stead? Think about it. Who is less embarrassing?
The J.F.K. karmic echo smells like Barack Obama. Wow, his initials are "B.O." It would be cool if his middle name was Roscoe, "B.R.O.?" That would be too krunk. His actual name is Barack Hussein Obama II. That can't be good. Who knows McCain could be the guy, they are still counting ballots... let's see what Florida comes up with this time.
I didn't vote for Obama or McCain, they both have attended Bilderberg meetings. Yet when you think of who would be president if either were assassinated, which Vice President would you want in their stead? Think about it. Who is less embarrassing?
The only presidential candidate for 2008 I would be proud to speak for my country is Senator Ron Paul. Getting rid of the Federal Reserve Bank Cartel was the greatest idea ever!
I voted for him.
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