I was hoping to catch interview with Ben Mack last night, but my wife and I had something more important (sorry guys, but you understand) to do–our first childbirth class.

Do you know if there will be public access to the Paulie Sabol/Ben Mack interview? I’m curious about learning more about this guy. What he’s all about. etc…

Thanks for sticking around!

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vm52QFsr8aI

Instead–a mouthful of gnats and pine needles. And something bitter and rough, like tree bark, scraping my chest. That’s because I was bear hugging a tree.

Confused, I unwrapped my legs from around the trunk, got my bearings. I was on a mountain slope, among a stand of Douglas Firs. The thick branches made it difficult, but once I found the right spot I found I had a good look at the reservoir laid out before me. The temporary loss of oxygen to my brain was a blessing and a curse. Instead of dwelling on Desiree’s unpardonable act, I wondered how many thousands of acres must have been flooded in the reservoir’s construction. What was hidden beneath the millions of gallons of water? Were there dead animals in there? Acres of rotted tree stumps? Rusted Pintos and Ford Thunderbirds? Indian burial grounds? A town? Who knows?

For a minute I was tempted to go home and turn on everyone’s showers and washing machines and sprinklers and dishwashers, flush all of the city’s toilets to find out.

She disappeared underwater, reappearing only inches away so that I got a spray of water in my face from her mouth when she released the air trapped in her lungs. “Hold out your hands. I want to give you something,” she said with a grin, winking at me. Despite serious reservations, I did what she asked. She grabbed onto my wrists and pulled me underwater.

Treading water, I spun myself around and around, looking around.

On shore, the only clearing up the mountain the steepest slope, oversized needles, powerlines pinned to the earth thread up, over and westward, towards Portland. Under my feet I sensed an enormous liquid space, a void my legs were bicycling through.

I felt like a freak on a unicycle and enjoyed it. If only I could juggle.

To learn to relax into the void took some time, but once I did I leaned my head back, Portland’s water and electric supply serving as my
pillow. Thankfully, my toes weren’t filled with lead.

My eyes, nose and mouth I wanted open to the sky. Ears underwater.

Eyelids softly gazing at stars I haven’t been able to see since college in Colorado, I concentrated on my breathing: deep, from the pit of my stomach. Steady breaths slowing the heart rate.

The heartbeat rises up, hovers overhead for a second or so before rippling out in a wave across the reservoir surface.

I took an astronomy class in college, but I failed to retain any information that would have helped. I was grateful to see these stars again though, even if I couldn’t identify them to save my life. The surface of the lake, which in my dream I guessed actually represented my heartbeat, rippled over my face.

Water washed into my nose and down my throat and stung my eyes. This was followed by what I can only describe as a sudden shift in the earth’s axis.

My head suddenly was submerged in a large wave appearing out of nowhere. I coughed and spit up something bitter as soon as I was above water again, a dark liquid I struggled to push away. Whenever I thought I was clear another wave would come and push the liquid towards me until it finally surrounded my neck. It smelled awful, sour, as though it had come from the pit of a stomach. It had
the consistency of oil, and was as black. My arms frantically stroked through the water to get away. After a lot of effort I finally put some distance myself and the oil stain. It continued to drift nearby, eventually however, it floated away.

For a second, I was afraid I might actually be in a giant bathtub and someone had pulled the drain on me.

(* Note: I haven’t been updating as often since my return, I know. I’m spending the time I use to write new episodes to build a proper blog instead. I have not lost passion. Quite the opposite)

jacob.lawder@hushmail.com

password still unknown…

Here are a few things most people I know don’t get, just like I’m sure some of you won’t get, and some of you will get. Coltrane and Sun Ra always bring joy to my heart, sometimes cause me to weep, always reset the heart vibrating with Interplanetary Wholenicity–>

[ala this truly Cosmic Statement: " I mean, I like to look across the table and see some delectability looking back at me. And I'm in complete understandment that there is more to a person than their physicalness. I am in total agreeance that looks and attractivity are not going to maintain a relationship. But I am also a woman who is highly appreciatable of a man who is working with a package in it's wholenicity. So why is it that when I'm out and about, I do NOT see the fine men that I KNOW are in existment??? Where are they hiding???? If you have any idea, let a sista know - I'm dying to engage in some flirtative activity."]

John Coltrane w/ Wynton Kelly Trio VERY RARE

Miles Davis & John Coltrane- SO WHAT

Sun Ra “Tiny Pyramids”

Sun Ra – Brother from another Planet Pt.2

Sun Ra – Brother from another Planet Pt.3

see you when I get back and Don’t Be Bored! and check out chartreuse’s post on the importance of the Nigerian movie industry.

“Yes, but–”

“Listen, I’ll pay for it. Here.” I took out my wallet, and before he could object gave him a dollar bill. “Don’t worry about the change.”

While I waited for the clerk’s return, I flipped through the bills stuffed in my wallet. All of the money was accounted for, minus the dollar. As soon as Yuri returned with an envelope, I put the remaining $247 inside, licked and sealed it.

“May I borrow a pen?”

I noticed the clerk was keeping close tabs on me. It struck me. I could trust this guy. Afterall, I knew one or two things about his peculiar tastes.

It was easy and kind of fun for me to entertain the notion that I knew something about him that, more than likely, he wished to keep hidden from let’s say, his boss.

The truth of the matter is, whether or not there was trust between us, when it came down to it, didn’t matter. Using my body and the lobby desk, I obstructed his line of vision. I put my money in the envelope totally out of view. I wrote my name, address, e-mail, home and cell phone numbers and room number in large print on the front.

“Would you hold on to this for me until I pick it up?”

“Well, I guess so, I suppose I can do that, sure,” he said, scratching his ear.

“Look at it this way, I have your lighter and you have my envelope.” I smiled.

Yuri smiled too, agreeing that it was a fair enough deal. Then for some reason, out of sheer inspiration I guess, I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Now I’m trusting you to keep the envelope in a safe place,” I said, giving his shoulder a firm pat. “Do you have a safe, perhaps, to keep it in?”

The smile extended across his face, whether forced or natural, reversed direction. He looked at his shoulder then scanned the lobby. My eyes followed, noting that there was just the two of us. He looked out the front window to the parking lot, then back at my hand, and then at me. Again, my eyes followed. I noted nothing out of the ordinary taking place in the parking lot. He began rubbing his slacks in a circular motion, around his injured hip. His eyes were moistening. I couldn’t tell if he had a gun in his pants and I wasn’t eager to find out. I lifted my hand off of him and slowly backed away. I should not have asked.

“I’ll be back for it later,” I said, as I trotted out of the lobby door before he could get a shot off.