Raw Materials of Music Making

the most beautiful dirt

2012-01-15T11:52:00.000-08:00

the most beautiful dirt

set the air on fire
sing your liquid songs

carve my name into the bones
of your enemy
or brother
or both
and wear them around your neck

scratch your schizophrenic
sociopathic
self-reflecting
surgical
seductive
love poems
into the cement walls
of your cell
until your fingers bleed
then use the blood to paint
apocalyptic self-portraits

and when you're done spitting
into the dust on the ground
and wading through swamps
up to your knees

when you're done picking skin
from between your teeth

then drown your thoughts in hydrogen
and start lighting matches

take off your rings
strip your clothes

wrap your breasts
like a gift
in lavender scented
see-through soft paper

and give me your heart
I'll be gentle
I swear

I'll wash the mud
from your feet

India

2011-08-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

India
You're hot like a lover,
sticky at night
and opening your flowers to me
infinitely.
infinite blossoms blooming for me.

And you put demons in my belly
and I vomit out filth
into the gutters

and swarms of flies fly to me
and dance in the sky
acrobating for me
and crawling on me
like a thousand wild eyes
and millions of faces of gods and of men
and I don't know which is which.

And I walk to the waves
and I sit on the rocks
waiting for the sun
or maybe the moon,
or maybe for love
maybe for her,
sit by the ocean I'm hoping will drown me.

You overwhelm me,
suffocate me
with incense and shit.
India you're breaking me
and I'm loving it,
breaking me a thousand times a day.

And I walk alone through your streets
through sweetness of smiles
through shit and through silk and
otherworldly sensuality.

And you beg me for money and love,
and I give you my money and love
and you rip out my heart
and take pieces of me,
digest me and spit me out,
then reconstruct me.

I've always been trying to lose myself,
reassemble, and lose myself again
from my soul down to my bones,
and teeth and guts
and teeth and bones and my blood.

And I give you my blood willingly
and you drink it like demons
and spit it back out
and give it back to me
and I drink it down,
take it back into myself
And I drink down the juice like a mango
and savor the pulp
and I'm so addicted
to you like a lover
and I wonder if she loves me
if you love me.

And you take my tears
and they flow to the sea
like the Ganga

And you make salt from my tears
and the sea,
and you season my heart like a monsoon
and I pour myself out like the rains,
torrential and fierce
and pouring out love
for your flowers.

And you open your flowers to me,
you blossom in blood,
the blood of a thousand sacrifices,
a thousand years worth,
mine, and yours,
like a thousand wild eyes
that never go dry.

And the thousand eyed flies
like thousand eyed gods,
former Indras every one
living in shit
they know it's divine
they know the beauty of shit
and of death
swarming in shit,
they love the shit
former Sivas every one.
a thousand centuries deep
creepy things creep
pulling me into the monsoons
and flowers
a thousand petals deep.

India
You hold nothing back
scooping up the sea
and pouring it down like a deluge
over this land
a thousand rivers deep,
pushing past temples and bones
and pushing past me
drowning
in crowds and the sea
and beggars in the street,
former Sivas every one.

And I with my snake and my moon,
I try to be like you,
Siva,
I want to be like you.

And I'm loving that woman,
that bloodthirsty woman
with her necklace of skulls
a thousand victims deep.
and blood in her eyes
and in my eyes too,
a thousand wakeful nights
so my days are like dreams
I hallucinate
I'm deluded
the goddess illusion embraces my heart
and I forget about you, god,
I forget about love.

India
You're close like a lover,
your poverty and Parvati embrace me.
you make my heart weep,
and make my heart sing
and break like the bones
of a begging man begging in the street
a thousand gutters deep
where thousand eyed gods,
flies, and men swarm as one,
former Visnus every one.

Have to remember you god,
have to remember your love
a thousand kisses
a thousand teardrops deep
filling the ocean
and let me drink down that water
and give me back my tears god
and give me back my memories
make me remember you
and make me remember the answers
to sickness
and love
and sorrow and shit,
why the flies swarm.

The thousand eyed flies
towering like temples all around me
burying me.
I'm buried in sand and the sea
washed away and washing me,
the cosmic sea,
the cosmic me
my body the ashram
all my cells alive,
former Sivas every one.

And Siva come into me
I'll take your poison
hallucinogenic
cosmic, karmic truth serum
so that I might see as you see,
mystical,
practical,
and dance as you dance.
and let me hold the fire like you
fire in my bones
consuming me,
burning my soul
burning my body to ash
smearing my ashy remains
all over your body
so that I can be close,
be one with you.
and give me your mark
sear it into my skin,
brand me I'm yours.

India
You're sweet
and salty as sweat
and the sunless sea in the morning.

You're burning my heart
and burning my feet
and the fire is brilliant
and burning my skin.

You're just like a lover
you give me your children
a thousand reaching hands
begging for love and for photos
like some thousand armed god
laughing and smiling and waving at me
and warming my heart.

And you give me your children
former Sivas every one
barefoot in rags and on bikes
in busses and school uniforms
wide eyed and running
and smiling with teeth

buried in teeth
and this necklace of skulls,

buried in tongues
dripping with blood

reaching for mother
and reaching for love.

India
You're like a lover
alive
in my heart.

hopelessly heathen and a little bit freer every day

2010-12-20T00:01:00.000-08:00

running...

I'm running, building up speed for the spirit world

arms fully extended,

stretching out sideways from my body

and a little bit forward,
and a little bit raised

I am flying,

literally flying,

down the mountain...

But maybe I should back up.

We were maybe two or three miles deep into the Woods.

On our hike in,

we tromped through thick patches of mud,

crossed streams on rickety little planks,

tripped on mangled roots,

slipped on rocks and almost ate shit but didn't,

ducked under logs and low hanging branches,

stood inside giant burnt out redwoods,

conducted a fire ceremony offering blessings and thanks to mother nature

for her beauty and abundance.

we smoked cannabis,

first presenting it to Siva thereby invoking him,

and his power, his Sakti.

we ate granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches

and drank the best tasting water.

we touched our hands to the soft green moss growing on tree trunks,

we saw new baby trees growing out of the trunks of fallen and decomposing logs,

we saw millions of mushrooms,

huge ones (almost the size of your head) growing alone,

and others in groups,
like little settlements,
colonies.

we walked in the shadows,

completely surrounded by trees and the valley we were climbing up and through.
we thought about death and the circle of life,

we stopped and raised our arms to the sky

when we found a patch of sun,

and we pulled that solar energy down with our fingertips

and brought it into our bodies.

we ascended to great heights.
we were elevated.

but we needed to come back down.

climbing was one carefully placed footstep after another,

slow and steady,
and stopping to smell the redwoods.

descending would be simpler though,

we would fly,

and gravity would help.

we took off jogging,

but soon we were soaring.

we were flying.

as our pace quickened,

time slowed

and I watched as my body flew down that mountain,

somehow my feet knowing just where to land.

and then it happened.

I burst through.

I burst through,

crossed a line, a threshold for sure,

passed through the slightest hint of a misty membrane

into a world that is lighter in every way,

brighter, like the sunlight is stronger,

and gravity has a little less of an effect on everything,

including our hearts.

a world where the magic is not so easily hidden,

in fact it's here in the open,

a world where everything buzzes just a little bit,

and there is energy to spare.

a world where moments last long enough

to inspect every detail,

where your eyes and mind can linger

on that patch of moss

clinging to a crack

in the bark

of a tree

that was born before anyone alive now,

and in that detail you can see the whole forest.

by crossing a series of bridges
over several different streams and fast moving creeks,
and finally finding level ground,
we came into contact,
that is re-entered,
ordinary space
and time.

but that is not to say we left the spirits behind.
they rode on the wind

when we went to the beach,
ran across the sand,
dipped our hands in the sea,
and sat on the rocks and looked out.

and then we drove home
across another bridge.
back to apartments and "real" life.

but the spirits are still with us,
and so is their world.

and even gravity feels weaker,

like it's grip is a little less tightly grasped

around my heart,

and my life.

-CM

blissed out bhakti bohemian beats

2010-12-05T17:12:00.000-08:00

ayurvedic ambiance
tribal trance dance
blissed out bhakti bohemian beats
spaced out spirals and intergalactic grooves
ceremonial healing circles
communal inner-journeying
ritualistic spirit possession and casting of spells
telepathic love vibrations
modern techniques for ecstasy
radically rising kundalini
pagan worship practices and psychedelic dreaming

SunSet One by solarone

I put together the above set of my music for an event at The Prosperity Hive, San Diego, CA on 12-04-10. I call the piece "SunSet One." It is a complete piece in and of itself, but also functions as a DJ set or psuedomixtape.It is composed of various recordings I have made which have been reworked, rearranged, or re-edited specifically for the event. Some of the pieces that make up this work are many years old, and some may be recognizable if you are already familiar with my work, though much of this set consists of never before heard material.The tracks include the following songs: introducing the exploding Sun, Prayers for a Beloved Sun, the beating heart of the Sun (the blood, the pulse, and the love), the breaking Sun, seance for a Sun, Samurai Sun (the Kali mix), must go on (into the Sun), the father the Sun and the Holy Mind, Samurai Sun (rebirth of the dragon mix) - [this file has been converted into an mp3 for time/space considerations]

-CM

Ayahuasca Ceremony part 3 - the morning after

2010-06-20T12:30:00.000-07:00

(Altered States of Consciousness Series #9)

It must have been just before the sun was about to come up when the ceremony was brought to a close. I was glad - My body was tired and I was looking forward to stretching out in my sleeping bag and getting some good sleep.
That never happened.
I did stretch out in my sleeping bag, but the "good sleep" never happened.

My mind was racing and as I was laying there, shifting from one not quite comfortable position to the next, the sun came up like an eruption. The room became an instant oven.
Nights in the high desert = good.
Days = bad.

The blinds on the windows managed to let all the sunlight through and a huge beam was landing right on my sleeping bag, and it didn't help to remove the cover because then the sun was hitting me directly and that was even worse. I put my sweatshirt over my face to try to block out the light.

I just couldn't go to sleep.
After a few hours, I got up and wandered down stairs.

I was feeling very emotional -
probably some of it a leftover amplification effect from the medicine,
and some from the combination of no food and no sleep for the past 24 hours.

I was hoping a shower would help me cool off and act as a cleanser that could help me feel like starting a new day.
Instead I just stood and cried while the water poured over my head and body and became more and more emotional.

The shower was cooling, but the thing about the desert is that any amount of time spent outside in the daylight, however minuscule, will cause sweating. By the time I walked the short path back to the house, I wanted another shower.
But more than that, I wanted to go home.

I went in and sat on a chair and J asked how I was. I started to cry again. She (J) and I went on a long walk. We followed a dried up river-wash up the hill just to the northeast of the house.
The tears kept welling up.

It was finally decided that she would drive me and my stuff to a spot halfway home and someone would meet me there to take me home.
I knew that I needed sleep and good nutrition and I knew I would not sleep if I stayed and also that if I was to partake in the ceremony again, for a second night, then I would have to fast again for most of the day and thus not get the nourishment I needed. I don't think the food issue would have mattered as much if I had been able to get at least 3 or 4 hours of solid sleep instead of zero.

As I stood in the kitchen with tears in my eyes and running down my face, several of the group gave me a big "family" hug. This felt really really good.

A was brought down to talk to me and provide some council - this was T's idea - I think partly as a last ditch effort to try to get me to stay, and partly he instinctively knew that A might be able to provide some support in a way that only one of the ayahuasqueros could have done. I readily agreed.

We walked into the big room where we had all been sitting ceremony not so many hours before. She sat where she sat during the ceremony and she offered me K's seat. That felt like another "little honor."

I explained to A about the food thing and more importantly the no sleep thing, and she listened with love and compassion. She insisted that I at least drink some juice before I left (I told her that I never got sick and could still feel the medicine in here - as I placed my hands over my intestines) and I agreed.

Even as I sat there crying, I just didn't have the power to stop no matter how hard I tried -
I was amazed at the change in my perception of A in the light of morning versus the previous night.
During the ceremony, she was like some kind of supernatural being-
in a state of total rapture-
vibrating to the magical and subtle frequencies of another plane-
chanting healing hymns,
invocations to the spirit of the vine,
tapping into and radiating love and cosmic energy in every direction.
Now, with her sleepy girlish grin, disheveled hair,
she seemed so ordinary,
but the love she showed was just as powerful as the night before.

I told her how much I appreciated everything she and K did for us, and I also told her how beautiful her singing was. And it really was.

I don't know that I have ever enjoyed anyone's singing as much as I enjoyed listening to her sing. I know I went on before about how intense her songs were, but as my peak wore down and the ceremony continued, the songs became more calming, more graceful-
the chaotic melodies of the traditional Icaros replaced by songs in Spanish, English, and probably other languages. The lady to A's right would harmonize with her, and the combination was so pretty.
And the words always felt so good...
mostly chants,

muchas gracias...

heal the nations...
heal the children...
heal the elders...

I wish I could remember more of the words, and I really wish I could have a recording of the whole thing. Oh man, I wonder if that would be okay another time.
(Wow, pausing for a moment to relive that music!)

Anyway, I'm still not sure why I was crying so much and feeling so fucking emotionally raw.
It was just like a flood I couldn't stop-
I probably wasn't meant to stop it.

I have so much gratitude for K and A and for the roles they played. They conducted a powerful and safe ceremony. I felt especially safe being able to sit right next to them, and I told them so right after they brought the ceremony to a close.

I'm not claiming to know at all how,
but I definitely have a clearer understanding of how all beings are connected,
and how God is love,
and we all have love in our hearts,
and so that means we all have God in our hearts,
and that is just so amazing,
and so beautiful,
and there is so much love out in the world,
and we just have to choose to see it.

and God is love
and we are love
and we are God

Amen

-CM

Ayahuasca Ceremony part 1 - a prelude
Ayahuasca Ceremony part 2 - and the medicine goes down

Ayahuasca Ceremony part 2 - and the medicine goes down

2010-06-19T13:43:00.000-07:00

(Altered States of Consciousness Series #8)

I was the first to drink after K and A -
made me feel kind of brave and like it was an honor...
was expecting it to taste really bad - or if not expecting, then at least prepared for -
but was actually kind of good in a way -
kind of bitter, but mostly sweet and very thick like syrup -
lots of little bits of pulp that made it feel (and taste) extra woody...

fairly slow and gradual onset.
initial onset = very dissociative, meaning very consciousness expanding -
not thinking from my individual perspective -
not really thinking in terms of any pronouns -
remained like this for much of the journey, but was able to easily think in terms of "I" if I chose to do so.

first wave of nausea (about 45 minutes into journey?)= very brief, maybe lasting a minute.

peak starts at about 1 hour, maybe 1 hour and 15 minutes.

second wave of nausea occurs on way to the bathroom - thought I had to shit, but didn't... returned to chair...
-mucho energy coursing through body - hands/arm throbbing almost painfully with pulses of energy.
then peak starts - very dissociative.

"normal" vision dissolves...
very dark, can no longer focus on objects in the room, even my bucket (which is a little distressing because I want to be able to find it if I feel like I have to vomit)...

typical psychedelic geometric shapes/patterns take over...
Alex Grey-esque images/faces/bodies appear...

"snakes of light"
...serpents of pure light slither very quickly across the floor

made my way to bathroom again with help from P -one of the sitters.
had to hold his arm - felt very tipsy (kind of like being drunk) - did not shit -
P helped me back to my chair...

I never did vomit... felt like I had to shit three different times but never did.
I did sweat like a motherfucker though...
while I was sweating, I would feel very warm and unwrap myself from my blankets... was kind of cold in the room though, and my body was literally drenched in sweat and the cold air turned the water cold and I started to shiver and wrapped up and then had to ask for another blanket.

One time on the way to the bathroom, I actually grabbed P's hand. I don't think I've held a dude's hand in over 25 years and then it was probably my Dad's. I think part of my journey was to connect with people more and be able to state and to ask for and take what I need when I need it.

I think the third time I went to the bathroom was to get away from A's singing and shaking of the tobacco leaves - was too intense at that time - singing a traditional Icaro - lots of stimuli - very aware of everyone else and what they are doing - coughing, barfing, getting up to go outside or to the bathroom...

Peak probably lasted about an hour or so, maybe longer, maybe even two hours - very hard to tell.

As the peak subsided, the music became much more bearable - this is not to say I didn't like the music, but I think A was just too intense at that time for me - like Jarboe to the 42nd power - completely on fire...
K has a much softer voice and his songs were a little easier to handle - also he played a lot of instrumental music.

When A was too intense, she was a blur...
movie frame vision... arms waving...
dress spinning...
powerful singing
...keeping time with her rattle
...pretty amazing really -
her voice sounded otherworldly - not quite human -
maybe the voice of the plant's spirit...

K's songs were more grounding, while A's were more intensifying/empowering, aggressive almost... like a catalyst for the medicine...
(though K was kind of intense a couple times when he played his guitar-like instrument)
K's music was more calming when he played the flute (similar to a ney but not as breathy)

As I started to come down,
as the peak was ending,
I started to feel so much love emanating from K and A and then from everyone, including myself.

One of my intentions was to heal a little problem I have with one of my teeth -
the gum is pulling back and its very sensitive in one area - almost a little hole appearing in the gum.
Well, a mini-miracle happened (though I suppose when it comes to miracles, there are no "minis"). It is is partially healed - the almost-hole is gone and the gum is not pulling back nearly as much as it was before - though it still is some - and I haven't spit any blood after brushing my teeth since drinking the medicine.
Immediately after downing the tea, I remember running my tongue around my mouth, along the inside of my lips and along my gums, and I felt a little pocket of sweet syrupy pulp from the tea resting in the space between my gums and the inside of the left part of my bottom lip - precisely the area where the infamous tooth is -
I almost used my tongue to flick it out of there so I could swallow it down, but then something stopped me and I decided to leave it there -
maybe it could work its magic right there at the source.

Another one of my intentions was to connect more deeply with God -
(maybe seeking a more tangible connection ) and that did happen too.

After the peak, when I was coming down but still experiencing the psychedelic effects, I began processing and one of the things that happened was that I felt a greater/stronger connection with everything.
I realized more than ever just how connected we all are, and how we all have so much love inside of us -
and the world has so much love,
and people have to choose to see it, but there is love everywhere...

I kept thinking, "K's heart is so full of love," and
"A has so much love in her heart...
there is so much love in everyone's heart."

I could see a bright sun with yellow flames shooting out of K's heart while he walked around in the center of the circle playing his songs...
and the flaming yellow rays of his sun connected with yellow flames shooting out of the hearts of everyone else because we all have little suns in our hearts that shoot out yellow flames of love that connect with the love of all other beings...

Jaime and I went to our favorite breakfast place [two mornings after the ceremony] and while we were sitting in the restaurant, I could see a residual residue -
maybe more of a sensing (though not limited to my psychic field, it is partly in my visual field too)...
I could see little suns where people's hearts are supposed to be and each sun was sending out rays of love that intertwined and connected with all the other rays of love in the room -
I imagine the field is much bigger even than just the physical area of the restaurant.

I realize in a stronger way than ever before that God is love, and it really is that simple.
Three words...
God is love.

And, we all have God inside...

I spent the last half of the ceremony just experiencing this all encompassing love -
a neat coincidence is that this epiphany, which began as I watched K in the middle of the circle playing his song, happened right around the time the moon came over the hill and her light flooded through the wall of the four pairs or so of double glass doors that lead out onto the deck and into the room.

After a while I went outside to bathe in that moonlight -
I opened my arms out to the sky
and thanked God for keeping me safe
and for all the love in the world
and for making such a beautiful world with beautiful stars to look up at.

I loved that I could see so many stars -
that is a wonderful thing about being out in the high desert away from the city. I don't remember ever seeing the milky way so distinctly -
I felt being able to see the milky way like that was some kind of an honor bestowed upon me.

I went out to that deck a couple times just to be under those stars in the moonlight.

there is so much love
God is love
we have to choose to see it
we have to choose to be it...

[The next post will be the conclusion of this ayahuasca ceremony series- which is itself a series within a series. It will be the story of the morning after.]

-CM

Ayahuasca Ceremony part 1 - a prelude
Ayahuasca Ceremony part 3 - the morning after

Ayahuasca Ceremony part 1- a prelude

2010-06-17T17:25:00.000-07:00

(Altered States of Consciousness Series #7)

I arrived at ____ _____, in the high desert east of San Diego, early in the afternoon on a Friday. I spent much of the afternoon "settling in" - getting comfortable with the place. I drummed for a while, maybe an hour or two. I hiked around, found caves, enjoyed the views from different boulders. I did some socializing, but also had some quiet time for myself.

I wasn't really checking the time, but my guess is that the ceremony did not get fully under way until at least 11 pm, maybe 12.

Our guest ayahuasqueros were K (a male), and A (a female). They looked to be about my age or perhaps a bit younger (late twenties to early thirties). I sat immediately to K's left, A sat on his right. About 20 of us sat circle together. I was the first to drink (after K and A). I knelt in front while A blessed the tea. I drank the ayahuasca, then returned to my seat and waited...

[A quick note on "ayahuasca" vs. "hoasca": The tea I drank could technically be labeled "hoasca" (because it was indeed made from the Banisteriopsis caapi and Psychotria viridis plants and not substitutes (either natural or synthetic). My understanding is that if analogs/substitutes are used, then the brew should be called ayahuasca. However, it is also my understanding that if the brew is made outside of the traditional geography, i.e. the Amazon rain forests, then the brew should be called ayahuasca and not hoasca.]

I hope this blog post arouses some curiosities out there. In my next post, I will be writing about my experience during the ayahusca ceremony.

-CM

Ayahuasca Ceremony part 2 - and the medicine goes down
Ayahuasca Ceremony part 3 - the morning after

Altered States of Consciousness Series #2: The Mystical Truth About Music

2010-04-23T13:49:00.000-07:00

The Mystical Truth About Music

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.”
-Aldous Huxley

Standing just a few feet away from, and facing my amplifier, playing the same series of notes over and over on my guitar, sometimes in quick succession, sometimes letting the notes ring out, sustain and feedback in waves, I ride the swells up, out, past, and into infinity.

Eyes closed I can see swirls of deep red rushing by, moving past patterns of purple and blue, and neon-glow-green geometric grids. Physical sensation melts away, as does linear modality, temporal existence.
I am spirit, immortal, in touch with the infinite. I am immersed in a kaleidoscope euphoria of light and sound. As I stand playing my guitar, becoming one with the sounds, and one with god (if only for a few brief moments), I am part of a continuum of human music making as a means to enter ecstatic states of consciousness that I suspect is as old as humanity.

Music is one of those means of expression, like laughter and tears, that transcends ideas of race, gender, ethnicity, international boundary lines, language, class/socio-economic status, sexual as well as spiritual orientation, even time.
It will move you without moving you.
You can feel it, but you can’t touch it.
It will take you on a journey to the outermost edge of the universe, and you will arrive at the innermost depths of your soul.

Maybe music is beyond all that dualism. Notions of body-soul, good-bad, before-after, alpha-omega, dark-light, love-hate, static-motion, internal-external, space-time, yin-yang, need not apply.

The American psychologist and philosopher William James, lecturing at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1900 said,
“In mystical literature such self-contradictory phrases as ‘dazzling obscurity,’ ‘whispering silence,’ ‘teeming desert,’ are continually met with. They prove that not conceptual speech, but music rather is the element through which we are best spoken to by mystical truth.”

Music’s prevalence as an aid in acquiring and/or realizing these “mystical truths” may speak to its effectiveness. People around the globe and throughout history have come to the same conclusion. Music is a highly effective vehicle for gaining access to mystical states of consciousness- those ecstatic states that (to once again borrow from Aldous Huxley who borrowed from Blake) throw wide open the doors of perception, so that as Kerouac wanted so badly, we can look god in the face, go further even, and experience the oneness of all creation, literally losing our ‘self’ in the divine.

Music has the power to launch our souls beyond the mundane existence that we normally perceive and inhabit. This power seems to be especially dramatic when music is joined with another catalyst such as dance, yoga, any one of the varying forms of meditation, the sacramental use of entheogens, or other activities. The potency of these combinations is evident in the use of drumming by the shamans of Siberia and bushmen of Africa to enter into trance. It is also clearly demonstrated in the chanting of, “Om Namah Shivaya,” by Shaivites of India or Nepal, and even more explicitly in the Icaros sung by the Curanderos (healers/shaman) of Peru during an ayahuasca ceremony.

Music’s ability to facilitate passage into other states of being, alternate modes of discovering and existing certainly shows in the nightclubs of Ibiza, the black-light and lasered raves of London and Berlin, and the full-moonlight-bathed beach dance parties of Goa and the San Francisco Bay Area, just as powerfully and genuinely as it does in the Baptist churches of Mississippi. Ritualistic behavior, either alone or in groups, seems to be a key ingredient (along with some sort of musical activity, whether it be participatory or passive) in the recipe for attaining these spiritual states of ecstasy.

I know from personal experience the medicinal magic associated with sound and her sister rhythm. I have sought out both consciously and sub-consciously that elevating effect one gets from walking onto a dance floor at 11pm, letting loose body and soul, pulsing, swaying, and flowing with the endless stream of drumbeats, and dancing until the DJ lifts the needle for the last time and doesn’t let it drop again.

It is interesting to note how abundantly so many sonic symbols and images figure into our different creation stories. For instance, Hindus believe that the three-syllable word Om is the sound that began the process of creating the universe. The Hopi tell of how their gods created the universe by singing, while in the Judeo-Christian tradition, their god speaks the universe into existence. The Aborigines of Australia, participating alongside their gods and ancestors, perpetually sing the songs of their Dreamtime, continuously creating the cosmos. There are countless other examples. Even science seems to associate sound, by calling it the Big Bang, with the origins of the universe.

Perhaps music is the ultimate creative force. Perhaps, being a musician and composer, I am partial to this notion.

-CM
Much of my music making has been directly influenced by my fascination with these mystical states- both in attempting to induce them in myself via the process of creating sounds, and with the hope that others will find certain compositions helpful as aids in obtaining mystical states of consciousness for themselves.

The Blasphemous Sayings of Jesus Christ

2010-03-19T13:34:00.000-07:00

[The following is not based on true events. It is strictly a product of the author's own imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.]

The Blasphemous Sayings of Jesus Christ
or
sermon on the web
or
my return

On The Second Coming:

I asked my Dad to drop me off in Texas because I heard that I had a big following there, but as I gently floated down, sitting lotus position atop a soft and pillowy cumulonimbus, beaming with love, shining brighter than ten suns, I was brought out of my euphoria by a sharp voice that said:
"This here is the Texas Air National Guard. Leave this here air space immediately, or we will be forced to shoot you down partner."

With love and open arms, I spoke:
"I am Jesus, Lord God Almighty. Do not be-"

Bullets wizzed in front of me. Maybe Dad was right, maybe I should have let Michael or Gabriel be my canary.

"This is your last warning partner. Leave this here air space or we will shoot you down."

"Father," I prayed, "Please, if it be your will, please send me to Mexico instead of Texas."

And so, the wind currents shifted, and I moved southwards, avoiding the fire power of the mighty Texas Air National Guard.

This was in the summer of 1972. I discovered later, that had a certain pilot not been absent, I probably would have had another encounter with the Texas Air National Guard before I made it to safety across the border in Mexico. But, as it were, a certain pilot was absent, and therefore, not patrolling his area, and so I did make it to Mexico without any further incident.

I liked being in Mexico. When I would greet people and say, "Hola, Soy Jesus," they would usually smile and say,
"Hola Jesus, mi primo es Jesus tambien," or sometimes they would say,
"Hola Jesus, mi amigo es Jesus tambien," or sometimes they would even say,
"Hola Jesus, soy Jesus tambien."

On Immigration:

I knew that if I wanted my message to reach the world, that I would have to make it to Hollywood, or at least onto the evening news, so with a little help from my new friends, I set of for the City of Angels.

After three days walking, and another two on the back of a burro (boy that brought back memories!), I met with a farmer named Juan who said he would drive me to Tijuana in exchange for my burro.

Once in Tijuana, I thanked Juan, and asked if he knew how to get to the City of Angels. He said I could pay someone $800 to give me a ride in their car, or I could try to walk through customs and pray I didn't get stopped. Since I had no money, and I have had very good experiences with the power of prayer, the choice was obvious.

However, after all that standing in line, when it finally came time to cross the line into the Land of the Free, they did not let me in. "But, I am Jesus," I said, "and I am on my way to the City of Angels."
"Calm down there Hey-soose, and why don't you just come with me," said one of the men in green.
I kept telling them that I was Jesus, and I was on my way to the City of Angels, and that they should let me through, but all they kept telling me was, "Calm down there Hey-soose."

Eventually they took me away and locked me up and told me that if I wanted to "get better," then I would have to take their pills (which I did, but miraculously changed them into skittles just before putting them in my mouth).

I spent almost 40 years locked up in that place before escaping a few days ago with the help of another patient-prisoner who was locked up for believing I was who I said I was, and an orderly who is a very devout Catholic. A lot has changed in that time, and I no longer need to make it to Hollywood in order to give my message to the world. I can do it here, via this blog, under an alias, from my secret location in ______, CA.

And, my first message is this:

Tear down the fences between nations. Take down the walls that separate my Father's children from one another. Erase those lines on the map that divide the people of the world.

On War:

As for your warmongering, maybe you do not remember the words I spoke so long ago. Maybe you do not understand my meaning when I say, "Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. If he takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic also."

I tell you now, you should disband your military. Dismantle your nuclear bombs, your tanks, your planes, your guns, and grenades. These instruments of war do not suit Children of God.

On The Environment:

And remember, the Earth does not belong to you. I know you love to carve it up, buy it and sell it, but it is not yours to do this with. It belongs to my Dad. You people are supposed to be stewards, keepers of the land. You were supposed to take care of it, nurture it.

I cannot describe how sad it makes my Dad for him to see his beautiful forests chopped down, and burned by his children, to see his blue skies turned brown, his rivers and oceans turned to chemical muck, to see entire species of plants and animals gone forever because his children couldn't be bothered to keep the Earth clean and healthy.

On Drugs:

Also, it saddens my Dad to know that you have deemed illegal some of his creations. He has given you plants that can heal, take away pain, aid you in your spiritual quests, grant states of euphoria, and yet you make it a crime to grow, own, and use these plants. Shall you jail the Earth? How arrogant of you to deem God's creations illegal.

On Health Care:

My Dad and I would like to praise those governments that have decided that health is more important than money, but there is much work to be done. Some people are still in the habit of considering "cost" in terms of money when it comes people's health and well being. You must grow beyond this way of thinking.

I say care for the sick and the needy, and care not for the "cost." Your money is not real.

On Literature:

As for your treasured Holy Book, it is not the "word of God." My Dad and I speak a divine language that only we can know, and so therefore, any book written in a human language is not the "word of God," but if it helps you on your spiritual journey to think of it as so, then we understand.

We only ask that you delete from it those writings of Paul. His intentions were good, but he got things a little wrong (which is to be expected since he never really knew me).

We have taken the time to ween through some of your literature since I was here last, and have come up with a list of suggestions to replace Paul's letters and books. Our suggestions are as follows:

Letter from a Birmingham City Jail by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
The Communist Manifesto by Marx and Engels
Imagine by John Lennon
The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein
The Lottery by Shirley Jackson
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

On Marriage:

Finally, before I depart, I would like to offer up some advise on marriage. I see that there is some argument over who should be allowed to marry who, and I take full responsibility for this crisis since I failed to offer any advise during my previous stay.

My Dad and I have discussed this at length, and we have come to the conclusion that marriage should only be between consenting adults.
Let men marry women.
Let men marry men.
Let women marry women.
The important thing is that the couple love each other, and is committed to their partnership for life.

Having said this, we think divorce should be made illegal. There is much talk of the "sanctity of marriage," and as far as we can see, the number one thing than ruins the sanctity of marriage is divorce. It saddens us greatly to see so many families broken apart. We urge you to think more deeply on the matter of what the words, "for better or worse, till death do us part," before you vow to love someone for eternity.

Thank you for hearing me out. I have faith that you will see the light, and embrace love, compassion, and community, instead of violence, aggression, and competition.

-CM

M.O.N.E.Y.

2010-03-04T16:09:00.000-08:00

Image from United Against CSU Budget Cuts

Fuck the American Dream,
Fuck the American Dream.

The thought has been going through my head for about two hours now, ever since one of the speakers at today's rally blurted out (obviously without thinking the thing through like I have) "I want to get my education, so I can live the American Dream."

Well, Fuck the American Dream.

It is based on greed, over-consumption, and stepping on those less fortunate in order to "succeed," to climb the economic, social, and political ladders.

It is about polluting things. It is about killing things- trees, weeds, time, unwanted spiders in the bathroom, solitude, communion with nature, the creative spirit, foreigners, and anything else which might get in its way.

It is not about health- universal, individual, private, public, or otherwise.
It is not even about life (though some claim it to be), and it is certainly not about living.
It is not about tolerance.
It is not about variety.
It is not about freedom, and it is not about choice.

The American Dream is really a nightmare.

Of course as soon as the speaker mentioned above jibbered her jab about the "American Dream," the crowd went nuts. They cheered almost as much for the "American Dream" as they did a few minutes prior for the Marine-student.

I just couldn't clap and carry on for the "American Dream." To be fair though, I did clap and carry on, when, a few moments later this same student said that the Governor (or if you prefer the Govenator) ought to "live in my shoes for a month, pay my bills..."

But I couldn't clap and carry on like everyone else when, a few minutes latter, a different student at the mic shouted, "It's not right that prisoners have it better off than me!"

Several speakers at today's rally went on the "It's not fair for prisoners to be treated better than students" kick, and to be sure, of course that wouldn't be fair.

But who honestly believes that any prisoner is treated better than the students gathered in the quad today at Grossmont College?

This type of comment stems from the very real fact that California spends something like four to fives times the amount of money on its prison population than it does on its student population, and yes, this is an outrage, but it does not mean that prisoners are "treated better" than students.

It does mean that many prison guards are paid more than many of our teachers. It also means that a lot of money gets wasted in the criminal justice and prison system. And again, to be fair, a lot of money gets wasted in the education system as well, but back to my point about prisoners not getting "treated better" than the students.

Besides the obvious discrepancies when it comes to personal freedoms (from everything to do with what to wear and eat, to when to do it, etc), it is very easily provable that no prisoner is treated better than any student.

You choose.
Hypothetically, would you rather be a prisoner with Killer Kyle or Rapin' Rob for your cellmate, or a struggling student at a broken down school breathing free air? Seriously people!

The only real intelligent thing anybody had to say about the prison system today was when one of the biology professors pointed out that 40% of our prison population is made up of non-violent drug offenders.

Now of course the rapists, murders, car stealers, child stealers, and all the other serious criminals need to be locked up, but non-violent drug offenders? It's not that I'm saying half the prisoners don't belong there, but I am saying that the other half doesn't. Yeah, keep that in mind when we vote later this year to legalize and tax marijuana. You mean we can cut prison costs and raise state revenue?

Maybe it's just time to get out.

Out of the country, and out of all the races up all those ladders. I for one do not feel any need to be here when they all crash down.

The U.S. is not about US. Maybe it never was, and maybe someday it will and maybe some day it won't. But in the mean time, maybe we ought to change the name of our country. We could keep our same initials, but maybe call ourselves, the Uneducated Sheep of America.

Or, we could get ditch the old initials completely, and change the name to The MONEY of America. Militant, Ostrich-headed, Narrow-minded, Exterminating, Yahoos.

-CM

sinking

2010-03-01T14:54:00.000-08:00

The following was originally written in the Fall of '98 or the Spring of '99. I came across it recently, and it is still one of my favorites.

sinking

there you lay
stretched out on the sand,
daggers in your arms
that you didn't place,
but you don't remove.
water creeps up the shore.
wet ocean fingers
study your skin.
the nighttime tide
reaching up
pulling you willingly in,
out, down to the deepest depths
where no light or sound exists,
and you don't fight,
struggle or cry.

your wounds continue.
blood seeps into the sea,
and I know the water is cool,
you drink the saltwater down
until it fills up your lungs.
then you finally drown
bathed in your own blood
diluted around you in pools,
crimson and blue.

there's nothing more
you'll ever be
than a burnt out sound
in a darkening sea.
you are sinking,
sinking again.

the perfect song

2010-02-25T16:52:00.000-08:00

the perfect song

the perfect song would have to be infinitely long,
it would last forever,
and because its the perfect song,
everyone would love it
and never want it to stop.

the perfect song would not fit into any genre,
it would be its own genre,
and its composition would defy analysis,
and the appropriate key would never be pinned down
and its meter never known.
all the beats from around the world would
intertwine and overlap
forming the greatest polyrhythm ever known.

and the perfect song would never be recorded,
only performed,
and the perfect song would have no words,
but everyone would know how to sing it,
but no-one could ever sing it by themselves
because the perfect song is more than a lone melody,
it is a complex harmony,
and in order to be sung properly
the perfect song would require every soul to sing it,
every person to take action,
work together,
and even though everyone could hear it perfectly
inside their head, at any given moment,
once a year, every year,
across the globe,
we all would sing the song together,
and it would be perfect.

untitled poem

2010-02-19T11:04:00.000-08:00

(This poem came to me last night as I was trying to fall asleep.)

untitled poem

my way of being,
my communion, my connection,
my relationship
with god

is overpowering, intense,
like the essence of a thousand orgasms
condensed into a single drop of liquid
and injected straight into my soul

as if Aphrodite herself
were holding the needle

Operation Justice

2010-01-31T11:02:00.000-08:00

The following is a paper I wrote for my Problems in Ethics class last semester. I was told by the professor that he gave it the highest grade he has given on a paper in over ten years. The assignment was to explain what Just War Theory is, and then apply it to three wars.

Operation Justice

Just war theory has gone from being mere justification, to a valuable resource we can use to evaluate our national policies. St Augustine, Bishop of Hippo laid down a rudimentary just war theory in the late fourth century. He did so because the Catholic Church needed to somehow reconcile their notion of “turn the other cheek,” with the perceived necessity for war. Later, writing in the 13th century, St. Thomas Aquinas continued the western approach of morally assessing our actions regarding war. His Summa Theologica contains one article on the conditions that make entering a war just, and three articles that deal with how war should be conducted. Aquinas gives three criteria that must be met to justify the call to arms: First, only those who have the authority may wage wars. Second, he states that there must be just cause, and third, there must be right intention. The theory has been clarified and expanded in recent times, and philosopher Michael Walzer is the leading voice in today’s discussion on just war theory. I will explain just war theory as it is understood and used today, and apply it to the United States’ conduct concerning the Vietnam War, the Gulf War, and our current war in Iraq.

According to the Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy, just war theory is “a set of conditions justifying the resort to war (Jus ad bellum), and prescribing how war may permissibly be conducted (Jus in bello).” Justice after the war (Jus post bellum), which deals with issues such as how to end a war justly and occupation of a foreign nation, has been added recently by scholars such as Michael Walzer, but as this aspect of the theory is still in its infancy, it is beyond the scope of this paper. The theory is built around two assumptions, “that war is sometimes justifiable, and that the conduct of war is always subject to moral criticism” (Walzer ix). The theory walks a middle road between the Pacifists who claim that war is never justifiable, and the Realists who claim that ethical judgments have no place in war. Walzer claims that the theory implies that some wars are unavoidable and necessary. He points to Nazi Germany in World War II and the genocide in Rwanda in 1994 as instances when we ought to have gone to war (Walzer xi).

Regarding when it is just to enter into war, modern theorists still talk in terms of just cause, competent authority, and right intention, but they also talk about proportionality, last resort, and probability of success. In general, just cause is taken to mean defense against aggression. This aggression can be political, territorial, or against a people’s natural rights. The idea of just cause includes self-defense, but can also include the notion of assisting a third party who is suffering because of an aggressor. It has also been interpreted to mean safe guarding one’s own, or another’s way of life. The notion of competent authority means that the decision to enter into war should only be made by those who have the authority to do so. In our country, Congress must authorize the use of force before our country can officially go to war. This is problematic because it seems to invite those who would use trickery of language to avoid having to label certain military operations as acts of war, when clearly, acts of war had been committed.

Right intention is agreed to mean establishing peace, and/or a return to the status quo, as in the case of expelling foreign invaders. Having the intention to return to the status quo is problematic in light of certain humanitarian missions where the goal is not to return to the status quo, but to alleviate suffering, and may include a regime or other institutional changes that are usually not considered just by the theory. Just war theory also includes the idea that entering into war should be a last resort, after all other peaceful non-military options have failed. “If there are potentially effective ways of avoiding fighting while still confronting the aggressor, they should be tried” (Walzer 88-89).

Probability of success is another modern addition to the theory. It means that a war should not be undertaken unless there is a reasonable prospect of success. However, there are not many who would criticize a weaker nation for defending itself from a stronger invading force even if their probability of success was low. Of course, simulations are never as accurate as we would like them to be, and there will always be unforeseen variables that appear in real life events that never make it into our calculations, but the sense is that we should strive to make a genuine effort to determine the chances of arriving at our goal (which ought to be to establish peace). Lastly, there is the consideration of proportionality. There should be a balance between the desired outcomes and the consequences of attaining them, and military action must not do more harm than good.

The utilitarian concept of proportionality also applies to justice in war (Jus in bello). We must conduct ourselves so that the good outweighs the bad. Our methods should match the objective, meaning we should not carpet bomb an entire city when our mission is to destroy one particular building. That civilian casualties are always tragic, and that they should never be targeted are the underlying principles in the idea of discrimination, which means to clearly distinguish between combatants and non-combatants. Walzer says, “when it is our actions that put innocent people at risk, even if that action is justified, we are bound to do what we can to reduce those risks, even if this involves risks to our own soldiers” (17). He goes on to say that, “The governing principle here is simply that every effort be made to protect civilian life from both direct and collateral damage” (Walzer 94).

In order for a war to be fully just, all the conditions must be met. However, sometimes the strength of a just cause can offset some lack of proportionality in method. A pre-emptive strike is generally not thought of as just, but if a nation is in immanent danger of major suffering, a pre-emptive strike may be permissible in order to avoid greater destruction and suffering in the future. Other unjust wars include, “aggressive wars, wars of conquest, wars to extend spheres of influence and establish satellite states, and wars for economic aggrandizement” (Walzer xi).

Just war theory is more than philosophical musing about the abstract; it is a tool, a utility, a necessity even. The American experience in Vietnam made ripe the opportunity to renew the discussion, and analyze, clarify, and adjust if necessary the theory of just war. This may be due in large part to the fact that we lost the war, and that it was made a very public war. Images of the war flooded television sets, and as the war turned ugly, the public turned against it. “Vietnam was the first war in which the practical value of jus in bello became apparent” (Walzer 9).

As presented by Stanley Karnow’s book, Vietnam: A History, the causes of the Vietnam War go at least back to World War II when the French were attempting to reoccupy their colony of Indochina. The US had helped Ho Chi Minh to oust the Japanese during the Second World War, but in the early 1950’s the US was aiding France with money and military personnel labeled “advisers.” The French were defeated in 1954. During this time of the Cold War, the US was carrying out the policy of containment, an attempt to stop communism from spreading beyond its current borders, which was founded on the belief in the “domino effect,” which was the belief that if one nation in a region adopted communism, then all the bordering nations would adopt it as well. Based on these policies, the US began training South Vietnamese troops to combat guerrilla fighters from the communist north. In 1958, the north formed the Viet Cong army to fight against the south. Karnow offers some staggering statistics. By 1963, US President JFK has raised the number of “advisers” to 16,000, and aid to south Vietnam is now around the figure of half a billion dollars. In August of 1964, the USS Maddox is attacked in the Gulf of Tonkin. Congress passes legislation to authorize military action, and days later, the US military begins bombing north Vietnam. The US would commit 60,000 troops by 1965, and 536,100 by the end of 1968. The Paris Peace accords were signed in 1973, followed by the withdrawal of American troops. By this time, 58,119 Americans had been killed, 153,303 wounded, and another 1,948 were missing in action. An estimated 230,000 South Vietnamese troops had been killed, and 1,169,763 wounded. Over one million North Vietnamese troops had been killed, and an unknown number wounded. Estimates range from two to four million for the number of civilians who lost their lives during the war.

The United States of America had no right to enter into this war. The question of just cause is questionable at best. The case could be made that we were aiding a third party (South Vietnam) in fighting off aggressors (North Vietnam). The case could also be made that by supporting French colonial interests, we were violating the natural right of the people to govern themselves. By playing games with semantics, and labeling our military personnel “advisers,” we may have avoided an official war prior to 1964, but by aiding one army in fighting another with monetary as well as military support, we were committing acts of war prior to Congress granting permission to do so. In this sense, we did not justly adhere to the notion of competent authority. Nor did we have right intention. The reason we dedicated so many of our people, and so much of our money for so long, was not to establish peace, but to try to stop the spread of communism in South East Asia, as was in accord without policy of containment. We ignored the notion of last resort as well. Yes, there were talks and negotiations going on, but they were happening at the same time the military was taking action, therefore, military action was not used as a last resort. US President LBJ met with his cabinet to see if Vietnam was, “worth the effort” (Karnow 414). He also reports that the president was made aware of two reports, known as Sigma I and Sigma II. The conclusion reached by these reports is that, “no amount of American pressure could stop the communists” (Karnow 414), and the report seems to be right. We lost. It seems the probability of success meant little to President Johnson. The American involvement in Vietnam is not viewed favorably concerning the rule of proportionality either. Even if our objectives had been honorable and we had met them, I still do not know that it would have been worth the millions of lives that were destroyed in the process.

Not only did the Unites States enter the Vietnam war unjustly, but also we conducted ourselves unjustly while there. We had no sense of proportion, and we did not take measures to protect civilians from harm. In fact, we tended to do the opposite. The US military used a wide array of weapons, including defoliants and herbicides meant to destroy jungle areas making it easier to locate Viet Cong soldiers, but they killed rice paddies and other crops just as well. We also used napalm that would roast people alive, and cluster bombs. “The cluster bombs were frequently dropped by American aircraft on populated regions in North and South Vietnam killing or maiming thousands of civilians” (Karnow 482).

Perhaps the most publicized account of American brutality is that of the My Lai incident that occurred on March 16, 1968, for which Lt. Calley was eventually charged with murder. According to witnesses, the company was given a search and destroy mission. As they approached the village, they killed several unarmed civilians. The scene got worse, gruesome even, as the soldiers entered the village. One witness called it “point blank murder” (Hersh 418). A Sgt. Michael Bernhardt said he saw soldiers setting huts on fire and shooting villagers as they came running out, he saw soldiers storming into huts and shooting people, and he saw villagers being rounded up and then executed in groups. He says someone even shot a grenade into a group of people. Witnesses agree that the soldiers met no resistance. “They didn’t put up a fight or anything. The women just huddled against their children and took it,” says one witness (Hersh 426), while another says, “they just marched through shooting everybody” (Hersh 421). Everybody includes women and children. Depending on the source, estimates of the total number of dead range from 100-700.

Karnow reports that it was routine behavior to confiscate rice from villages so that it could not be given to the Viet Cong. Of course, the villagers would have no rice either (Karnow 481). By the end of the war, 4 million refuges had relocated because of the bombing, shelling, and general destruction of their land and homes to makeshift camps where many suffered illnesses. (Karnow 454) Certainly, these are not just means. Certainly, we did not act to safeguard the livelihood and lives of the civilian population. Certainly, the My Lai incident shows that at least on this occasion, we did not distinguish between combatants and non-combatants.

If the US learned any lessons from the Vietnam war, it learned that the public was watching, and not only was the public watching, but the public was judging. The government learned that it would have to put on a much cleaner show next time, and it did put on a much cleaner show during the first Gulf War. When Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait in August of 1990, the US was much more prepared than it had been during Vietnam. On the surface, we had just cause to go to war. We would be protecting a weaker nation from an aggressive foreign invading force. We adhered to the notion of competent authority. We went to war on January 15, 1991, which is three days after Congress authorized the use of force. Our stated intention was to reestablish the status quo by removing Iraqi forces from Kuwait, and restoring the Al-Sabah family back to power, and in that respect, our intentions would seem just. However, there is the question of whether or not there were ulterior imperialist motives involved concerning oil, and these reasons are definitely unjust. In terms of proportionality, Michael Walzer asks, “how do we measure the value of a country’s independence against the value of the lives that might be lost in defending it?” (Walzer 90). Keeping in mind the fact that there was very little loss on the US side, I would say that we were within the limits of a just war in terms of proportionality. The same is true regarding probability of success. The Iraqi military was no match for ours.

The biggest question in my mind regarding Jus ad bellum in the first Gulf War is that of last resort. It is hard to know whether there were any other peaceful steps to be taken prior to military engagement. We did use economic blockades, military threats, and a diplomatic deadline before waging all out war, so I am inclined to give the benefit of the doubt and say there was not much else we could have done, and that we did treat war as a last resort.

Our actual conduct during this war is not as simple to evaluate. The stated policies seem to adhere to just war guidelines, that is, only firing missiles at military targets with a clear fix, and not freely aiming at targets. We know, however, that infrastructure such as transportation and communication systems, electrical power grids, and water-pumping stations were targeted and destroyed as well (Walzer 95). This does not adhere to just war guidelines. Water is essential to the well being of the civilian population, and we should not destroy food or water sources. There is also the fact that our military has been using depleted uranium bullets for a while now. As Deborah Blum reported in her article in the Los Angeles Times in 2003, the US left 320 tons of depleted uranium debris throughout the region during the 1991 Gulf War. The bullets may make the job easier for our military, but they are also causing birth defects. This type of collateral and long-term damage to civilians is not acceptable according to just war theory. While the first Gulf War may be considered at least partially just according to Jus ad bellum standards, we did not stay within the bounds of just war theory in terms of our conduct during war (Jus in bello).

With regards to the second Gulf War, or the Iraq War as it has come to be called, Bush Jr. and his staff disregarded just war guidelines altogether. There was no just cause. Bush Jr. and his administration told us repeatedly that there were weapons of mass destruction, and that we were in immanent danger because Saddam could use them any time. We were told they had evidence to back these claims up. The opinion is generally held, however, that the administration must have been lying, because to this day, the weapons of mass destruction (or any evidence of them) have yet to be found. Yes, Congress did authorize the use of force, but I argue they were wrongfully manipulated by the administration into doing so by lying about weapons of mass destruction (how we should feel about our elected representatives believing the lies and succumbing to the manipulation is substance for another paper). In hindsight anyway, it seems that the US was not in any immediate danger. Our intention was to effect a change of regime, but “change of regime is not commonly accepted as a justification for war” (Walzer 148). Walzer argues that our goal, or intention, should have been to reinstate the UN inspectors. He says, “Though disarming Iraq is a legitimate goal, morally, and politically, it is a goal that we could almost certainly have achieved with measures short of full scale war” (Walzer 160). As the possible danger to our country was not immanent, there are plenty of other steps we should have taken before committing ourselves to war, such as embargos, enforcing a country wide no-fly zone, and giving diplomatic ultimatums with the goal of allowing UN inspectors to continue their missions. In light of the fact that former President Bush declared major combat operations to be successfully over with several years ago, one must question not only the probability, but even possibility of success, especially when troops are still being deployed, bodies still coming home in bags, and no one really seems to know what we are doing there anymore. As with his father’s war, the American public questions motives when so much money is at play. Are we fighting to rid Iraq of weapons of mass destruction, or are we fighting for oil or Haliburton?

As for how we conducted ourselves during the war (jus in bello), I judge our behavior to be unjust. I do not believe that we took every measure we could in order to prevent loss of civilian life. Lt. Gen Michael DeLong states in his book, “We could bomb a building and leave windows next door unbroken” (107). One wonders how then, the US military could fire a rocket at defenseless journalist, a civilian, as shown in Noujaim’s film, Control Room.

Life for civilians has been unquestionably difficult for Iraqi citizens ever since the war began. Greg Mitchell quotes NBC correspondent Jane Arraf, “Imagine the worst day you’ve ever had in your life, add a regular dose of terror, and you’ll begin to get an idea of what it’s like everyday for a lot of people here.” She says Americans, or anyone removed from the battlefield have a hard time empathizing with those in a war zone (Mitchell 195). Speaking about the Haditha massacre, Mitchell says that our troops overreacted and they killed civilians in cold blood (Mitchell 181). Our military will make the claim that it is increasingly difficult, especially in this war, to distinguish combatants from non-combatants because of the tendency for insurgents to dress in civilian clothing, and to be sure, this must pose a problem- how much of a problem, and therefore, how much leeway to grant in this area is difficult to assess. In judging whether means have been proportionate to the ends, we must wonder about the actual cost of life. Bush claims that the total number of civilian deaths is 30,000, while a study from Johns Hopkins University sets the number at 600,000. Given their respective records concerning truthfulness, I tend to believe the numbers presented by Johns Hopkins University, and 600,000 civilian deaths seem excessive in light of our technical abilities. I do not believe that the US acted justly upon entering the Iraq war, or in its conduct during the war.

The US has not adhered to just war guidelines for the three wars I have analyzed. Vietnam (along with WWII) showed the necessity for making moral judgments about when it is just to enter war, as well as what is just behavior during war. It failed on both counts, and was a completely unjust war. We did learn some lessons, however, because our entry into the first Gulf War was at the very least partially just, and though our conduct during military operations was unjust, I argue that its degree of unjustness was less than that of Vietnam’s degree of unjustness. I believe that our blatantly unjust war in Iraq is the result of the blatantly unjust and corrupt Bush administration, and not a trend in national policy. I have faith that the Obama administration will take actions to right some of the wrongs caused by the Bush administration. Additionally, I believe that we will strive towards the goal of conforming our national policy to just war theory. One benefit of just war theory is that it provides a framework for us to discuss and make judgments about our conduct in world affairs with regards to war and warlike actions. Just war theory provides the language we ought to use to hold ourselves accountable for our actions, and yes, justice may be a lofty goal, but just because we have not reached it yet, does not mean it is unattainable; it does mean, however, that we should continue our efforts and the discussion about what it means to be just.

Works Cited

Aquinas, St. Thomas. The Summa Theologica: Of War (Four Articles). Benzinger Bros. ed. 1947. trans by Fathers of the English Dominican Province. Christian Classics Ethereal Library. Web. 15 Nov 2009.

Blum, Deborah. “A Dark Magic in America’s Silver Bullets”. Los Angeles Times 1 June 2003: M2. Print.

Control Room. Dir. Jehane Noujaim. Magnolia Pictures, 2004. DVD

DeLong, Lt. Gen. Michael. A General Speaks Out: The Truth About the Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. St. Paul, MN. MBI Publishing Company LLC and Zenith Press, 2004. Print.

Dupre, Ben. 50 Philosophy Ideas You Really Need to Know. London: Quercus Publishing Plc, 2007. Print.

Hersh, Seymour M. “The MyLai Massacre.” Reporting Vietnam: American Journalism 1959-1975. Bates, Milton J. New York, NY: The Library of America, 1998. 413-427. Print.

“Just War Theory.” The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy. 2nd ed. 1999. Print.

Karnow, Stanley. Vietnam: A History. New York: Viking Press, 1983. Print.

Mitchell, Greg. So Wrong For So Long: How The Press, The Pundits, and the President Failed On Iraq. New York, NY. Sterling Publishing Co. Inc, 2008. Print.

Walzer, Michael. Arguing About War. Harrisburg, VA: Yale University Press, 2004. Print.

The Benefits of a Bad Trip

2010-01-15T12:50:00.000-08:00

This story was originally written in late 2001 or early 2002. I have made some revisions since I rediscovered it several days ago.

The Benefits of a Bad Trip

I think everyone should have the experience of a bad trip at least once in their lifetime. One really, really bad, hellish trip just once. The kind that rips out your soul, shreds it into a million tiny pieces, and just when you think you have died, puts the pieces back together again- the kind I went through last night.

It started with spaghetti. Ellie was in charge of boiling the noodles, and I was in charge of the sauce, which included a quarter ounce of chopped and dried "magic" mushrooms. We turned on the TV and began to eat (I now know never to mix psilocybin and television ever again). The food was good. The wretched taste and smell of the fungi was hidden under garlic and oregano.

We decided to watch Disney's "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland." By the time the hookah-smoking caterpillar made his entrance, our living room had transformed itself into a purple, blue, and pink mushroom forest. The walls melted away to reveal giant caps atop giant stems, moss draped branches, and several pairs of blinking, peeking eyes. Everything was alive, breathing wisps of smoke from some far off hookah. I got giggly. I saw pieces of white light shoot here and there, swirling colors together. But the fun and games were to be short lived, the tea party changed everything.

I started to lose touch with what was what. I forgot I was in my apartment. The secure feeling of being in my living room disappeared into the background noise, replaced by sounds of clanging tea cups and saucers, and the shouts of mad and mutated characters. The groovy, psychedelic forest was now a howling din of screams and breaking glass. I had gone from "ooh," to "AHHH."

I turned off the TV and VCR, and our living room returned. Ellie and I both drank some water. I knew water was my friend.

Ellie set up our video camera on the tripod in a corner of our living room. I asked her if the video camera was recording, and she said, "Yes," but I forgot and asked again, and she said, "Yes," again, but then I couldn't remember if I had actually asked if the video camera was recording or if I only imagined it, so I asked again. Ellie said, "Yes," again. Then I asked again, and she said, "Yes," again. I estimate this went on for some time between two and thirty-seven excruciating minutes. Each time I asked I genuinely did not remember that I had just asked the same question fifteen seconds ago. There were other things I couldn't remember too, like, What day is it? What was I doing before this? Is that video camera recording?

Ellie started to draw using oil pastels with her big drawing pad resting on her lap. I liked watching her draw. She was drawing a picture of a man's head. I wanted to tell her that I thought it was neat and it looked like John Lennon, but I couldn't. I could find the words and practice saying it in my head, but the only words I was able to speak were, "Is the video camera recording?"

"Yes," Ellie would say. I was stuck in a loop, and I couldn't get out. Fear came upon me like a disease, starting microscopic and undetected. I had no idea it would consume me, ravage my world and Ellie's.

She turned off the video camera, so I asked, "Was the video camera recording?"

"Yes," she said.

"Are you sure?" I asked. The words were slow, like a 45rpm records played at 33 1/3rpm's.

Our stomachs did not feel good, and I was having trouble with details- they were vanishing again. The next thing I knew, Ellie was calling my name from the bathroom and asking for help. She was in trouble. We were in trouble. Reality had made a right turn somewhere, and we had gone to the left, led astray by beautiful colors and breathing walls.

I found my way into the bathroom where Ellie was vomiting into the toilet. "Help me, help me," she pleaded. All I could do was hold back her hair, and say, "Everything's okay," but of course everything was not okay. Everything had gone completely wrong. I helped her clean up. Then we went into the bedroom, not bothering to turn on a light, and lay down on the bed.

I shut my eyes, and the world literally went away. First, all the outside sounds went away, followed closely by all preconceived notions of what makes up the universe and how it is structured, followed even more closely by the total annihilation of my self, my ego. Even language left, taking my ability to conceptualize with it. I was left with visions of geometric shapes of all colors constantly morphing into other geometric shapes. Though, even my ever changing colorful patterns started to fade away into blackness. Without the tools to construct my reality around me, or even realizing that I had that kind of power, I was alone in the void, and I was afraid.

And then my perspective changed. I became like a third party observer, looking down at our bodies as Ellie and I lay huddled next to each other. My skin was on fire and so was Ellie's. I felt like my mind had been ripped out of my skull. An infinite number of hands gripped my body and pulled me down. I was in a place where every sensation was pain. I closed my eyes to make it stop, but it didn't. I thought I was going to die. We had fallen down the rabbit hole, never to return.

We had digressed into sub-humans, only capable of primitive emotions, and totally incapable of cohesive patterns of thought. I opened my eyes and saw the numbers 12:42 in red, but I couldn't figure out what it meant. The only thing I could remember was Ellie's name. I knew the feverish, beautiful girl next to me was named Ellie, but that was the only thing I knew.

I told myself that we were going to be okay, but my inner voice was not convincing. In fact, I hardly recognized it. Words were ancient history. I thought the world was going to end and me with it. I thought Ellie and I would die and be found later clutched together, nude, in pools of sweat on a blanket-less mattress in the corner of a dark room. Only the caked salt from our tears would remain, our hair matted to our pillows and faces.

In time, we came down. I remembered some words. I knew my name again. Having totally deconstructed my world and my sense of self, the only thing left for me to do was to build it up again. For the time being it was enough to re-create the world and my sense of self as they had been previously known, though the seeds had been sewn, the spark had been lit. I now knew that the powers of creation were mine.

We turned on the bedroom light and looked at the clock radio. This time the red numbers made sense. I understood what 1:37 meant.

About an hour later the trip was almost completely over. Ellie had thrown up two more times, but I never did. The poison had attached itself to my insides and my body had not been able to make it leave. Ellie brought me water. We drank glass after glass while we sat and talked, smoking a joint to help with the comedown. We talked about concrete things, facts. We said we had a blue dresser and what we were sitting on was called a bed. Ellie pointed and said, "Those are my running shoes," and I understood.

I said, "Those are my keys," and she understood.

It was good to know what the universe was again. It was good to know that there was a universe. We talked about good things, things we liked. We smiled at each other. It felt good to smile, and it felt good to be smiled at, especially by Ellie. I looked into her deep, brown eyes, and it felt good. I also felt that it was important that throughout the whole experience I could remember Ellie's name. She was my base. Even when every level of reality had dissolved away, fluctuating between a spinning world of demons and emptiness, Ellie remained.

Eventually, I curled up with Ellie and my newly discovered powers of creation, and went to sleep.

We Are Alice: Story of a Mushroom

2010-01-12T20:34:00.000-08:00

I was digging through a couple of boxes yesterday, and came across several of my short stories written around 2000-2002. I had just been thinking about a couple of them and wishing I could find them again, so I was very happy that I did. I've decided to type them up (the files don't exist anymore), and publish them here on my blog (after a revision or two). The first one is called "We Are Alice: Story of a Mushroom," and was written just after the whole 9/11 thing, probably October or early November of 2001. I was living in the North Park area of San Diego at the time (the references are clear if you know the area).

We Are Alice: Story of a Mushroom

Outside the street is calm. Most of the sheep have all gone to bed. The usual blanket of fog has lowered itself over inland San Diego. It's almost tomorrow. The 11 o'clock news begins its cries of war and propaganda, and the water for my tea begins to boil. I pour the water into my favorite mug. I dip the tea ball into the water and watch the steam, then I sit down and watch the news to pass the time until I can take the tea ball out.

A male and female reporter sit at their posts and read. I see government officials telling the world that the world must make a choice which side to join. I hear the word "freedom" over and over and over until the word becomes empty and still and meaningless, until the tea is ready.

I take the tea ball out and set it on the counter. It makes a small pool of hot water but I will take care of that later. The tea is still very hot, so I hold my mug by the handle. I bring it outside with me so I can smoke a cigarette and drink my tea at the same time. Whenever I go outside to smoke, I always sit on the steps facing the sidewalk. Only the light traffic from University to the south and El Cajon to the north could faintly be heard.

I begin to drink my tea. An upstairs neighbor's TV blares, but I don't know what they're watching. Halfway through my tea, I finish my cigarette and head back inside. The colors on the TV are a little brighter, a little more intense. I drink my tea to pictures of a plane flying into the World Trade Center in New York. The flames leap from the screen. I almost the thought the carpet would be singed, and yuck the tea is gross, but I must continue to drink if the haze is going to make sense.

I saw. Words in languages I didn't understand gleamed from each star, and I believed. I must finish my tea, my life. I begin to believe my life is in my tea. The TV frightens me. I feel the tea in my left forearm. The tea then rushes past my shoulders and into my right arm.

The tea rushes into both of my legs. It tingles inside and waits. It waits to creep up like springtime, from the very depths of Demeter's bosom.

A minister on the TV waves his hands in the air. He speaks into a microphone attached to his pulpit. He wears a dark gray suit and has slightly graying hair. He pauses, picks up a Bible, lets the pages fall open randomly as he holds the Book in the air. He points at the Book. He points at me. His hand reaches from the TV, I shrink back into the couch. I change the channel.

One last sip. Always the thickest- tiny bits small enough to escape the tea ball, but big enough to be left at the bottom of the mug, waiting until the last possible moment to be ingested and become a part of me, and still the tea creeps. Surges again through every vein. Pulsing with the rhythm of the cosmos.

I feel my body transforming, gelling together. All of my organs are one. Every breath like water. My skin is my liver, and my lungs are my toes. My body is one. My heartbeat is the ripple, my body is the jello, and my blood is the food coloring. I am submissive to the sky but I am not restrained. The TV goes on.

The News spits at me in anger. It says I must support America. It says war, war, war, and more war. The bushes burn, and innocent ones die, scared by the flames. The heat is intense. I see [pictures of American soldiers and American weapons. A reporter tells of tens of thousands of Afghani peasants fleeing their country for fear of bombs. I see the bombs. They fall, tossed like confetti over the barren land. Then I see one bomb. It falls slowly. A tower of flames surges upward, followed by a mushroom cloud of smoke. The bomb is the hookah, the caterpillar a distorted god, and I must be Alice. I watch while strange things go on in the world. I must be Alice. I must question my environment, ask "Why" and "How." My world demands it of me. I must believe in the existence of the Jaberwoky.

I flip to another channel where some military person is telling that America must strike back, then a woman in a purple dress says that Americans will not condone such behavior and will punish anyone affiliated with the terrorist attacks.

Then I see the president in his oval office. The oval office becomes my living room. He stands behind his desk and addresses a man in a dark green uniform with lots of colorful pins and badges. The president says that those bastards must be found. He slams his fist on the desk as he says this. The other man says "yes sir," and then the president says someone must pay, he just needs to know who. The man says "yes sir."

I change the channel again. A repeat of an earlier news broadcast says we must support America, America is good. I turn the TV off and sink deeper into the couch.

I decide to go back outside and have another cigarette. The upstairs neighbors have gone to bed. My street is completely silent, only El Cajon has the slightest trickle of random cars. I begin to feel that hot fires burn inside each house lining the street and in every apartment window.

I check my watch. 4:37am. It is a Thursday morning, but at this time of day, all days look the same. I think of Sunday mornings. I can see Moses walking down my street, and I can see burning bushes. All the bushes are on fire and out of control. All the people are sleeping. I go back inside. Loose papers crawl from the shelves, slipping past keys and quarters for laundry. I hide behind the couch and close my eyes.

Tell me all this is just a bad trip. Please tell me this is not real. Please tell me this is all a bad trip, just a terrible nightmare gone terribly wrong.

Tell me we have not forgotten the tears of our brother and sister human beings. Tell me we do not believe that two wrongs make a right. Tell me there is never ever just one solution to even the ugliest problem. Tell me we love and cherish life and all the beautiful colors that make it up.

Please tell me that We Are Alice.

Tell me we do not wish for war. Tell me we are not revengeful shallow minded humans, but intelligent beings with rational, compassionate minds and a hunger for life. Tell me we are not thirsty for blood. Tell me we are not destroyers. Tell me these things and prove them to me. I dare you.

Possible Side Effects May Include:

2009-11-26T15:28:00.000-08:00

Possible Side Effects May Include:

drowsiness
fatigue
insomnia
nervousness
dizziness
headache
ear ache
body ache
muscle ache
heart ache
irregular heartbeat
irregular menstrual cycle
muscle stiffness
joint stiffness
excitement
vaginal itching or discharge
erectile dysfunction
premature ejaculation
inability to achieve orgasm
suicidal thoughts
agitation
anxiety
panic attack
aggressive behavior
blurred vision
slurred speech
ringing in ears
hearing loss
hair loss
loss of bladder control
loss of self-worth
loss of appetite
bloating
diarrhea
nausea
vomiting
dry mouth
constipation
indigestion
urinating more or less than usual, or not at all
lightheadedness
high blood pressure
low blood pressure
sore throat
nasal discharge
fever
chills
cramps
bruising
tremors
pupil dilation
twitching of the face or tongue
shortness of breath
nightmares
daydreams
hallucinations
delusions
increased sensitivity to sunlight
increased risk of encountering stressful situations
possible risk of seizure or convulsions
broken marriage
broken home
broken bones
swelling
weight gain
weight loss
changes in mood
numbness
itchiness
skin changes or discoloration
sores
redness
rash
excessive sweating
feelings of hopelessness
over indulgence of vices
unexpected virtues
grief
elation
love
death
salvation
enlightenment
nirvana

China/Japan Trip- Last Day in Tokyo

2009-08-01T19:35:00.000-07:00

Sunday June 7th, 2009 would be our last full day in Tokyo. First on the agenda was a visit to the Tokyo Museum. We spent a few hours wondering around. There was so much to see.

At one point, as I stood admiring the business end of a samurai spear sitting in a display case, an older Japanese man came and stood next to me. Then he turned to me, pointed at the spear, smiled, and made a gesture as if someone cut his leg off. We both laughed. We walked together for just a bit, pointing and gesturing at various samurai weapons and other gear. We didn't need words to communicate our mutual appreciation of the artifacts.

Towards the exit of the museum there was a little stamping station where you got a piece of paper and access to various stamps and then got to make your own artistic creation. There were brochures telling about what each symbol meant so you could make your choices of what stamps to use based on their meanings, their aesthetic qualities, or some combination.

Jaime and I were the last to leave the museum. As we walked outside, we found the rest of the group lounging in the shade next to a coffee cart sipping the last drops their iced coffee drinks. I guess they had had enough art and museums for one trip.

As we walked away from the museum we stopped to watch several street performers. One guy in particular was very entertaining. He had a small PA system set up with techno music playing while he juggled.

We walked around some near by shops and then Jaime, Daniela, Joyce, Dr. Johnson and myself had lunch together. I had a seafood pasta dish that consisted of noodles, sauce, muscles, octopus, and shrimp. It was really good.

Later that evening the whole group went out for a dinner party. We went to Shinjuku and walked until we found a place that suited our needs. We were trying to find a place where we could eat and drink all we wanted for a flat rate. The place we ended up having our dinner at was really cute. The kitchen was downstairs with a couple tables, but we were led upstairs where we pushed some tables together. We almost had the whole upstairs to ourselves. I could see the train running along with a neat view of the city just out the window from where I was sitting.

Dr. Johnson explained the custom of filling your companion's glass before he/she ran out. We had a meal of appetizers. We had various meats on skewers, fried chicken, all the snow peas we could handle and more. It was the tastiest bar food I have ever had in my life!

After dinner, most of the group took the train back, but Daniela, Joyce, Jaime and myself wanted to walk around and see what Shinjuku was like (to be honest, I think we were mostly curious about the rumors, and yes, they're true, well some of them anyway).

China/Japan Trip- Tokyo Style

2009-07-23T12:02:00.000-07:00

Never underestimate the herd mentality! Saturday June 6th, 2009 was our free day. Nothing on the itinerary for the group, and to be honest, I was looking forward to having some time where Jaime and I could wander around together and do our own thing. We had planned on taking the train to Shibuya and do some shopping. Apparently everyone in the group had the same idea. Dr. Johnson had told us that Shibuya had lots of department stores where we could shop for all kinds of things. As it turns out the "department stores" are closer to what we would think of as malls. They are multi-storied buildings with different stores on each floor. Most floors even have a "theme" such as women's clothing or men's clothing or accessories etc.

The group walked out of the train station and tried to figure out a plan that would make everybody happy because so and so wants to go here, so and so wants to go there. This is exactly the kind of thing I was trying to avoid. Finally the group decided to go off in smaller groups and then meet later at the Starbucks across the street from the station. I nodded in agreement and told them not to wait for us if we didn't show up at the designated time. It's not that I didn't want to spend time with everyone, I just didn't want to spend time with everyone.

Jaime and I crossed the street (along with maybe a hundred other people) at the all way cross-walk. I had been wanting to use a diagonal cross-walk ever since we got to Japan. We went inside one of the department stores with the hopes of doing some clothes shopping. It would be fun to come back from Japan with something chic and new- maybe a skirt or cute top for Jaime, maybe some designer jeans or hip jacket for me... It became clear rather quickly though that we were not going to be purchasing any clothes for ourselves in Japan. We are both just over six feet tall and nothing fit! I tried on a couple pairs of jeans, but even the biggest pair only covered half of my calf so it was time for Plan B.

We decided to get our hair done. The first step: figure out where. As we stood there in one of the department stores, I noticed a guy in his early 20's or so with some wild anime hair that was dyed red in parts. I guessed he probably knew of a good place for us to get our hair cut and dyed, so I went up to him and told him I liked his hair and asked where he got it done. He said he went to a place in Harajuku. I asked him where in Harajuku, and he went back behind the counter and pulled out a brochure with listing for various dance clubs and salons and pointed to one of them. It was a place called Peek-a-Boo.

Jaime and I hopped on the train and headed towards Harajuku. We figured we would just walk down the main street where all the action seemed to be and hoped we would find it or at least find a hip looking store where one of the employees might be able to give us directions. As it turned out, we didn't even walk more than one block before Jaime spotted a sign across the street that read Peek-a-Boo. Score! Now hopefully we didn't need an appointment.

The salon was actually below street level, so we walked down stairs to get to the front door. We were greeted by a very nice girl who spoke English really well. We told her we both wanted to get our hair cut and dyed and asked if we needed appointments. She said "no." We sat down and began looking through some magazines to maybe find a picture of what we wanted our hair to look like so we could show it to the hair stylist, but nothing in the magazines was exactly what we were looking for. First Jaime's stylist came over and introduced himself and asked what Jaime wanted to have done. The girl who initially greeted us stayed on as translator. Since we didn't have a picture from the magazine to show them, we tried to explain what we wanted. First I told her that Jaime wanted something "wild," but they didn't really understand that word. Then I tried using "crazy" but that didn't seem to work either. Then I remembered an expression Dr. Johnson had used to describe that chic/hip/glamorous/eclectic way of dressing. I told the girl that Jaime wanted her hair done "Tokyo Style." It worked! "Ah," she said with a big grin, "Tokyo Style." We pointed to a bottle of red nail polish to show them what color Jaime wanted her hair and with a few more gestures to describe the actual hair cut she wanted, Jaime was taken back to get shampooed and start the process.

Next, I was introduced to my stylist, and with the help of our translator I was able to tell him that I basically wanted to keep my regular cut; I just wanted to get some blue streaks put into it. The whole process from the time we walked into the salon, discussed what we wanted done with the stylists, and then actually getting our hair cut and dyed took about 2 1/2 to 3 hours. I have to say it was a fun experience. Luckily Jaime and I sat next to each other and we were able to catch some sideways glances at each other and see how the process was taking shape. The staff was exceptionally friendly and eager to make us comfortable and happy. They brought coffee and magazines while I waited for the dye to set, and made pleasant conversation (albeit limited conversation which mostly consisted of "where are you from?" "California" "oh, wow, California"- for some reason it seemed to be a big deal that we were from California).

We were really hungry by the time we were done at the salon. It turned out that the place we had eaten at with Dr. Johnson and Daniela a couple days before (The Apartment Cafe) was just a few doors down from the salon so we decided to eat there. This time I had something that was like a calzone. After we ate, we took the train back to the department stores in Shibuya. After Jaime bought some earrings and stockings for herself we went back to our rooms to shower and get ready for our evening out. We wanted to go see Ginza.

Dr. Johnson had told us about Ginza the previous night (in fact I think it was when she was telling us about Ginza that she used the term "Tokyo Style"). She said that up until a few years ago Ginza had the most expensive real estate on the planet. It was the area of town where all the lit up buildings, flashing lights, and fancy dressers were (which is not to imply that other areas of Tokyo did not have their share of fancy dressers or were not lit up, it's just that Ginza had a higher concentration). Dr. Johnson gave us directions on how to get there from our dorm (or rather from the train station a couple blocks away from the dorm) and told us it was a "must see" in Tokyo.
After showering (and being careful not to get our hair wet so the dye would not rinse directly out) we walked over top the local Himalayan restaurant and had the best nan and curry ever. Then we took the train for about 30 minutes and got off at Yurakucho. I asked one of the people working at the information center where Ginza was and he just smiled and waved his arm in the direction of the train station exit.

We walked the exit and into the heart of Ginza. There were more lights and people than I imagined, but then again it was a Saturday night. We strolled around for a little, took some pictures and then headed back to our rooms. It had been a long day.

China/Japan Trip- Nikko is Nippon

2009-07-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

On Friday June 5th, 2009 our group went on a day trip to Nikko. We rode a couple local trains for just a stop or two and then took the Nikko Express to the end of the line. Nikko is a mountain town surrounded by pine trees about 80 miles north of Tokyo. I saw posters while waiting on the platform to board the Nikko express that read, "Nikko is Nippon." I also saw similar posters on the train and at the train station in Nikko. I had to ask Dr. Johnson what Nippon meant and she said it is the native name for Japan.

After getting off the train in Nikko, we rode a bus through the town, past the famous Shin-kyo (sacred bridge), and up winding roads towards the Rin-no-Ji Temple which is maintained by the Buddhist Tendai Sect. It was very foggy, drizzly, and cool. I like how the mountains looked through the fog and mist.

Before we made our way through the main temple area we walked through a beautiful garden and drank mountain water from several fountains. It was the best tasting water I've ever had in my life.

After walking through the Rin-no-Ji Temple, we made our way to the Tosho-gu (Shinto) Shrine. As we walked towards the five story Pagoda that marks the entrance, I saw a flash of black out of the corner of my left eye. I turned to look, and there was a little kitty hunched at the base of a large rock. Jaime and I went over to give him some love. There was a little tin where you could tell someone had been feeding him. How fortunate to live in such a place of peace and beauty. I'm guessing maybe he was a monk who gained enlightenment while living/working at the Rin-no-ji temple in a previous life and has now chosen to come back as a cat.

(Home of the original Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil Monkeys)

The Tosho-gu Shrine is much more opulent and decorated than most Shinto shrines. It is very colorful and it reminded me a lot of some of the Chinese art and style we had seen in places like the Forbidden City.

This grouping of Buddhist and Shinto sacred places and the fact that they coexist and even compliment each other is why I think the posters say "Nikko is Nippon." One of my favorite things about Japan is how these two religions have not only flourished side by side but also seem to add to each other. Nikko is a perfect symbol of this religious harmony.

After wandering around and soaking up the scenery, we had a late lunch. Dr. Johnson, Daniela, Joyce, Jaime, and myself went to a little place that Dr. Johnson recommended. I had beef katsu curry. It was the perfect thing to warm me up on a cool day.

Instead of taking the bus back the way we came, we walked back towards town. This time we stopped at the Shin-kyo bridge.

While on the walk back through town we passed by lots of craft shops. There were especially a lot of wood working shops. One little store even had a cat sleeping near the front window. I think the gods knew I was missing my cats.

Nikko was possibly my favorite place we visited in Japan.

China/Japan Trip- Tokyo Day 1

2009-07-14T20:13:00.001-07:00

We woke up on Thursday June 4th, 2009 and had breakfast at the restaurant on the top floor of our building at the National Olympic Memorial Youth Center. The National Olympic Memorial Youth Center is where the Olympic teams stayed in Tokyo during the Olympic Games. The facility has since been turned into dorm style housing for international students. Most rooms are set up as dorm style with four to six beds per room, but our group was staying where the coaches stayed, and we each had our own room. The breakfast was very small and not enough food for the price we paid, so we decided that we'd have to do something different for breakfast for the rest of our stay.

After breakfast Dr. Johnson led our group as we walked to the Meiji Shrine. The shrine is situated on the back side of the Youth Center and it took about 20 minutes to walk to the gate. We actually entered through the back gate and walked up a scenic little path towards the main complex.

Like most Shinto shrines, the Meiji shrine has a natural beauty to it. As nature plays a huge role in Shinto beliefs, the buildings are often unpainted letting the natural wood color show. Also, trees are allowed to grow within the complex and become part of the shrine.

On the day we visited there was a ceremony happening in which people had come from a certain district in Japan to pay their respects to the Meiji Emperor.

There was also a wedding taking place. We saw the bride and groom in traditional dress walking together to go have their wedding photos taken.

We spent time just walking around soaking up the quiet atmosphere.

There was an area where you could write a prayer or wish on a piece of paper (and leave a donation) and have the priests would offer them during the morning ceremony.

It was very relaxing and calming spend time at the Meiji shrine. As we left, we walked past rows and rows of what looked like kegs. I read on a sign that they were barrels of wine sent by a French politician to the Meiji Emperor as a token of good will.

We walked from the shrine towards an area of Tokyo called Harajuku. After scouting out an ATM, we visited the Ukiyo-E Ota Memorial Museum of Art.

In my travel journal I write:

"On display were different works from a certain artist who worked in the late 1800's. He did print works depicting common scenes from everyday life (as opposed to only art depicting royalty or rituals). Also because of the sizes of the art [most pieces were about 11"x18"] and the fact that it was print work, made it affordable for everyday people to buy. This style was influential to post-impressionistic European artists.

After the museum, Jaime, Daniela, Dr. Johnson and I went to have lunch. We found a kind of trendy little happening spot. Dr. Johnson and Daniela had curry with saffron rice, Jaime had a sauteed hamburger patty/steak, and I had a pasta with black olives and octopus. It was really good- better than I thought it was going to be even. We spent a lot of time talking about the possibility of Jaime studying abroad in either China or Japan. Then Dr. Johnson went back to the museum and Jaime, Daniela and I just walked around. We were in what I called fashion avenue [I later learned that some people call Harajuku the fashion capitol of the world]. After a bit we hit up a coffee shop called Double Tall Cafe.

We sat and chit chatted and people watched. We ordered what is called a cake set. For one price you chose a piece of cake and a coffee drink. I had a hot cafe mocha and a piece of chocolate cake."

Daniela wanted to do some shopping, so Jaime and I left her to wander around the different stores while we went back to the Youth Center. We both had to do laundry. Jaime and I spent the rest of the night feeding 100Yen coins into the washing machines and dryers and just chilling out while we wrote in our travel journals.

China/Japan Trip- White Egret (Himeji) Castle

2009-07-06T11:56:00.000-07:00

We woke up early on Wednesday June 3rd, 2009. We brought our luggage down to the lobby where Dr. Johnson was arranging the details on having it shipped to Tokyo. We would be staying in Tokyo for the rest of the trip, but before heading east towards Japan's capitol, we would be heading west. Our destination was the town of Himeji, home of the famous Himeji Castle.

It was raining when we got there, and we spent almost an hour wandering around trying to find umbrellas for a reasonable price. Every one we found seemed to be way overpriced, so we just kept walking towards the castle (which is a straight shot from the train station). The group finally found umbrellas at a little gift shop just inside the main gate (I opted not to buy one, it wasn't raining that hard, mostly just a heavy mist).

Most of the group started heading up the main path which leads up to the keep and then back to the main gate. Jaime and I chose to walk a different path which also led to the keep and back to the main gate (as it turns out, we just walked the circle "backwards"). We found out by reading a plaque that the entrance we used is called the Ru Gate; it is a "special" entrance.

Himeji Castle, also known as the White Egret (or White Heron) Castle, is the largest authentic Samurai castle in Japan, and is featured in almost every book I have ever read about the Samurai. Before leaving the states, Jaime and I watched several documentaries on Japan and each had something to say about Himeji Castle. I was very excited to visit.

The castle was built in 1581, and restored in the 1600's. The architecture is not only beautiful, but highly strategic. If you wanted to gain access to the main keep, you not only had to cross three moats and navigate your way through a maze of winding passageways, but you had to do this without getting shot. There are numerous slits in the walls that the samurai would use to fire arrows or guns through. In fact, news of the castle's design in regards to its impenetrability spread creating such a reputation that none ever dared to attack it which is one reason why it is still in such good condition.

Aside from the militaristic aspects, the castle and its grounds are aesthetically impressive on their own. The castle has an almost delicate look to it. Another word that comes to mind is majestic.

Standing outside the main keep of the castle was one of the few times I felt small in Japan. However, once we went inside, I had to be very conscious not to hit my head as we started climbing the steep stairs floor by floor.

Each floor of the main keep acts as a small museum. There is equipment and armor used by the samurai as well as official documents regarding castle life.

On the very top floor is a little shrine decorated with statues and flowers. We paused a while to look out the windows and take in the great views of the castle grounds and the town of Himeji.

After climbing back down and exiting the main castle grounds, we stopped in the tiny visitor's center. There are some pictures and a few fun facts, but the main attraction was being able to add another couple stamps to our travel journals.

It was a little past time for lunch by the time we were done at the castle. We walked back to the train station via an indoor shopping area and found a place to get lunch. Then we got on the train for Tokyo. The train ride lasted a couple hours. We arrived at Tokyo's central train station and from there we switched trains a couple times until we got to our stop. We then walked a few blocks to the National Olympic Memorial Youth Center (where we were staying near Yoyogi Park). We checked into our rooms and then met as a group at the restaurant on the top floor for dinner.

After dinner Jaime, Daniela, Joyce, Jessica, and myself walked around the streets near by. We were looking for a bar to have a drink. We came across one but the guy at the door told us in perfect English that in order to be allowed in the bar you had to be able to speak fluent Japanese. None of us spoke Japanese that well so we kept walking. We found a place that looked like a house on the first floor and a bar on the second floor. We walked up the outside stairs, went in, and were seated at a table. We each had a local pale ale. They were supposedly a pint, but the glasses looked awfully small for a pint. It was okay though. It was fun to check out a local bar and see a bit of the local night life. Mostly we just talked and laughed. Then we paid the bill and went back to our rooms.

China/Japan Trip- Day Tripping from Kyoto

2009-07-01T13:45:00.001-07:00

On Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009, we went on a day trip to Nara to see the Great Buddha (the world's largest bronze sculpture). The group met in the hotel lobby after breakfast and then walked across to the train station. The train ride from Kyoto to Nara was pretty short and featured some great views out the window of the train.

After getting off the train in Nara, we took five taxis (there were 15 in the group, 3 to a taxi) up to the walking entrance to Todai-ji Temple. Looking out the window as we drove, I was excited to see deer roaming along side people jogging and playing in several parks along the way. I knew Nara was famous for its deer park and I hoped that we would get a better experience than just viewing them out the window of a moving taxi.

I was delighted when the taxi stopped and let us out. Todai-ji Temple is situated right next to the deer park (which I now know covers about 1,200 acres and is biggest city park in Japan). We had to walk through part of the park to get to the temple, but the group was in no hurry just yet. There were deer to play with and photo ops to be had.

Jaime and some other members of our group bought shika sembei (round cracker-like deer snacks) from a cart on the corner to feed the deer.

Jaime and I enjoyed petting and talking to them as much as they enjoyed the snacks.

After spending some quality time with the deer, we walked towards the massive gate that leads to the temple complex.

We stopped to wash our hands and mouths before entering the temple. We also lit incense outside. Once inside, we also dropped a 100 Yen coin into a donation box that sits near the beautifully arranged altar and lit a candle and said a prayer.

It is hard to describe the awe I felt gazing up at the Great Buddha. You can look at pictures, and you can intellectualize the size in feet or meters or whatever is best for you, but to be truly humbled, you must stand at the foot of this giant. As I craned my neck to look at the Great Buddha's face, I thought about what amazing craftsmanship and artistry must have gone into this work.

The Great Buddha is flanked on either side by two huge bronze Bodhisattva sculptures. These too are massive in size. There are also other large wooden statues.

There was a table set up near the souvenir stands with a sign that said they were restoring the temple and for a donation of 1,000 yen, we could write on a tile and it would be used in the restoration process. The sign said to write our names, the date, where we're from, and a message or prayer if we liked.

After stamping my journal, we went outside.

We were not alone. There were lots of students visiting. Some looked like part of an art class and were spread out with their easels and drawing materials. Many of the younger ones came up to me and tried out various phrases in English.

We walked up the trail that starts outside the main building and leads you to another set of buildings a little way up the hill. We continued up the trail. At the top was another temple with a big balcony that looked over the whole Todai-ji complex and out to the rest of Nara. We rested on a bench and ate our lunch while taking in the great view.

After visiting the temple, we walked towards the train station. Jaime, along with some others in the group had expressed interest to Dr. Johnson about purchasing a kimono while in Japan. Dr. Johnson said she knew of a great place in Nara to shop for them. As we walked, she led us to an area with lots and lots of shops of all kinds. We spent almost two hours here.

Jaime, Daniela, and Consuelo shopped for kimonos while Dr. Johnson showed them how to properly wear them and offered other advice. I got restless and decided to wander around on my own. I veered away from the main grouping of shops and headed down several alley ways. I like to get away from the center of things sometimes. I came back a few times to check and see how Jaime and the others were doing. They were busy trying on different kimonos and finding obis to match. I eventually found a neat little hole in the wall shop that sold all kinds of spiked jewelry, body piercings, leather, and probably any other accessory a punk, or goth rocker from Nara might need. The tattooed man behind the counter spoke almost no English, but we found ways to communicate with hand gestures and the few words that we knew of each others language. I ended up buying a pair of blue earrings (the captive ball kind).

Meanwhile, Jaime had picked out several kimono style light jackets, and one beautiful more formal kimono. She tried it on to show me. As I was helping tie the obi, two older Japanese women walked into the store. Their faces lit up as they saw what Jaime was wearing. They exclaimed something in Japanese, and while I could not understand the words, I understood the meaning. They thought it was gorgeous. One of the ladies even gave Jaime a thumbs up. I figured it to be a great compliment to have these women react the way they did. I get the feeling they knew what they're talking about.

After shopping, we got on a train and headed back towards Kyoto, but made a stop in Uji before going all the way home (I stamped my journal with the official "I've been to Uji" stamp at the train station). Uji is a great little small town. After putting our shopping bags and backpacks in lockers at the train station, we walked through the town to Byodoin Temple. It is part of the Pure Land Sect of Buddhism.

Byodoin Temple is known for its Phoenix Hall. Extremely symmetrical in design, its roof is adorned with two Phoenixes. It was originally called the Amitabha Hall, but was named the Phoenix Hall during the Edo period.

The Pure Land garden surrounds the Phoenix Hall. It along with the other gardens in the area was a joy to walk through.

Another highlight was the small museum on the premises. Photography was not allowed inside, but we bought lots of postcards and a small booklet from the gift store just outside the exit.

After visiting the temple, we got our bags from the train station lockers and headed back to Kyoto. We got back around dinner time. Jaime, Joyce, Consuelo, Rodrigo, and myself all went out together. We went back to TAKEZEN.

This time I order the tempura deluxe set (instead of just soup). After dinner, we wondered around the shopping area and found a bakery where we bought a couple pastries for dessert.

This would be our last night in Kyoto.

China/Japan Trip- 3 Temples, 1 Castle, and a Shrine

2009-06-29T15:20:00.001-07:00

On June 1st, 2009, our first "real" day in Japan, we got a pretty good taste as to why Kyoto is called the cultural capital of Japan. We spent most of the day touring various culturally significant sites. We had said goodbye to Miranda, our Chinese guide, the day before and now were counting on Dr. Johnson (SDSU Professor of Art History and native of Japan) to lead our group and help navigate our way using Japan's excellent public transportation systems (buses, taxis, and local and national train lines).

Our first stop was Nijo Castle. We were not alone. There were lots and lots of elementary aged school children being led around by their teachers visiting that day too. I don't know if we happened to be visiting on a particularly busy day or if this many visitors is typical for Nijo Castle.

Nijo Castle was built in 1603 and was used as the Shogun's residence during his stays in Kyoto. After removing our shoes, we toured the inside. We walked on "nightingale flooring" (wooden floors that were designed to squeak so would be assassins could not enter unnoticed). We saw beautiful paintings on the walls of the various rooms and learned that the scene or images depicted were dependent on the importance of the room (i.e. is the room for the shogun's use, his wife's, to greet guests? etc).

Photography was not allowed inside the buildings, but outside, as we walked through the grounds and ooohed and awwwed at the gardens and general landscape, I clicked away.

After spending some time at Nijo Castle, we hopped on another bus to go see Kinkaku-ji Temple (also known as the Golden Pavilion) which was a nobleman's house that the shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu converted into his retirement home just prior to the year 1400. It was turned into a temple after the shogun's death (which is what he wished for).

Only one building remains of the many that originally made up the complex, and it is a restored version of the main structure that burned down in 1950. But the fact that it is a replica does nothing to take away from it's beauty, or the surrounding gardens.

Starting from the pond that so brilliantly reflects the shimmering golds and living greens, we walked along the winding path that takes visitors through the neighboring gardens.

At one point along the path was a small stone bowl filled with water from a fountain into which people could try to toss a coin and ask for a wish. I watched as several tourists tried their luck. The ground was completely covered with coins for about a 3 foot radius from the bowl. I took a coin from my pocket and tossed it underhand towards the bowl. To my delight, it landed with a splash and a plop directly in the middle. Silently, I asked for god to keep us safe for the rest of the trip.

After visiting the Golden Pavilion, we took another bus. This time our destination was the huge Daitoku-ji Temple (where the Japanese tea ceremony is said to have originated). Actually, it is a huge complex with many temples.

We trekked through the gravel pathways and arrived at the entrance to the Daisen-in Temple. The group was asked to remove our shoes (which we did and placed them into little cubby holes) as well as our backpacks and other bags. To my surprise some of our group members were very reluctant to leave their bags unattended. "This is a Zen temple, what's going to happen to them?" I thought to myself and set my bag where I was asked to.

I had learned by now to keep fairly close to soft spoken Dr. Johnson in order to be able to hear her as she shared her thoughts and general knowledge with anyone near by. We discussed the rock gardens, Zen, and proper etiquette/how to conduct ourselves in the temple.

Photography was not allowed in much of the temple, but they did allow us to snap some photos as we participated in a tea ceremony. We gathered kneeling around a low table where our hostess first ground the tea in our bowls, then poured the water, and then handed us our tea. We took a bite of what was called a piece of candy but was more like a small cookie, then drank the tea in three gulps, then finished the cookie.

After our cookie and tea, we met with Zen Master Ozeki Shūen, the abbot of Daisen-in. Some people bought postcards and other small books for him to sign. After getting our picture taken with him, I opened up our Japanese phrase book and pointed out "It is a pleasure to meet you" to him. He smiled, and in perfect English said I was very kind and "It is very nice to meet you too." It was very moving just to be in his presence. In fact, I was patting my eyes with a Kleenex and choking back some tears as we walked out of the complex. I was not sad in the least, just over saturated with feeling perhaps, and the tears are a release. I get this same way at concerts sometimes too, or while watching a compelling film. I think I just tend to feel things very powerfully, but there is only so much room for the emotions to live inside and when my soul reaches maximum capacity, they must come out. Making music is my preferred method of catharsis, but when that option is not available, tears seem to be the default mechanism for release.

By the time we left the temple complex, it was around 2pm and we were hungry for lunch. We stopped at a little noodle shop. Our group took up the whole restaurant. After a relaxing meal, we walked down to the bus stop and got on the bus that would take us to Ryoan-ji Temple, known for its famous rock garden.

Again we removed our shoes before entering the temple. We viewed the rock garden and walked the perimeter of the main building and viewed its famous fountain. Unfortunately, there was construction going on at the time and the sound of machinery wrecked the sound of the water and various bird calls from the surrounding trees. The construction workers were not lacking in respect though, they had at least removed their work boots and were wearing soft soled slippers.

My favorite part about visiting the Ryoan-ji Temple was the walk around the lake. The path leading to the temple is a straight path from the front gate with trees on either side that leads to the front steps. As we walked down these steps a second time (on our way out), we veered to the right instead of going straight back the way we came.

The trail leads right through a wooded area at first, but then it leads you around the edge of the lake back to the front gate. We had seen the lake on our way up to the temple, but hadn't really stopped to look.

To me, it was really nice to leisurely stroll by the water and look at the animals and lily pads.

Our group gathered by the front gate and then walked out to the bus stop. We walked past an area with lots of statues mingling with the trees all behind a chain link fence.

We took the bus back into the more central part of Kyoto. We got out of the bus at a stop right in front of a place called Wonder Tower. At first glance I thought it was a video arcade. Upon closer inspection, I saw it was filled mostly not with video games (though there were a few), but with the type of game where you try to grab the stuffed animal.

Dr. Johnson told us that we might see Geisha walking around if we waited around for dark. A few of us decided to go "Geisha hunting" as Jaime likes to put it. We asked around at a couple stores for the best places to catch a glimpse of the endangered species.

We walked south on Kawaramachi-Dori, then made a left and headed east on Shijo-Dori. We crossed the bridge over the Kamo-gawa (river) and continued for a couple more blocks. The sun was getting ready to sink over the horizon, but it wasn't quite dark yet.

We decided to kill some time and re-energize at a coffee shop. As we were drinking our coffee and eating our snacks, we saw a Geisha walk by. We got so excited and probably drew some stares from the other patrons. I could see her painted face clearly as she walked towards us. We tried to get our cameras out, but by the time we did, she was already several blocks down the street. It was time to pay the bill and start cruising the streets.

The sun was out of sight, lamps and colored lights began to take over. We caught a couple glimpses of Geisha walking in the distance, but never got a good picture. I really enjoyed just walking around the side streets and gazing at the different store fronts.

As we continued on our walk, we came across something spectacular. Just on the other side of a large intersection we happened to be standing on was a huge set of steps leading up to a large shinto arch. It was orange and lit up and we could tell there were lights behind it. I punched the button to give me the green so I could cross the street. I had to see this.

We later found out that what we had stumbled upon is a very well known shinto complex called Yasaka Shrine.

It was mesmerizing, like we had just stepped into another world.

There was a building in the middle housing maybe 100 paper lanterns. There were small shrines all over were individuals could go and offer their respects. Mostly we saw men in suits holding briefcases walking through and going up to the shrines. We watched as they tossed a coin in, rang the bell, clapped twice, then said a short prayer. After seeing how it was done, I did the same. I could have stayed in this newly found magical place all night.

We walked out of the shrine, down the steps, back across the intersection, and into a convenience store. We bought water, and various deep fried snacks (fish, shrimp, etc). This would be our dinner, and it was delicious!

On our walk back, we stopped for a few minutes to listen to a local jazz band that had set up near the bridge looking out over the river.

By the time we got on the bus to head back to the hotel, I think it must have been about 9pm or maybe a little later. Before getting on the bus, Joyce and I wasted some time and money trying to get a stuffed animal to fall off a hook at Wonder Tower (we walked back to the area to catch the bus).

We rode the bus back to Kyoto station. While walking back to the hotel, the craving for some Mister Donut hit hard so we made another trip. Again, we took our donuts back to the hotel room. Jaime worked on her travel journal before turning the light off and going to sleep.

China/Japan Trip- Last Day in China, First Night in Japan

2009-06-23T16:12:00.000-07:00

Sunday May 31, 2009 would be our last day in China. We would spend the morning in Shanghai, then board a plane that would take us to Osaka, Japan. From there, we would take a bus to our hotel in Kyoto.

Here's an excerpt from my travel journal:

"Before we went to the airport, we visited the Yu Garden in Shanghai.

It was very beautiful. It had really neat buildings and lots of little ponds and bridges.

The water was full of goldfish and turtles.

There was one bridge that had a huge group of fish gathered by it- maybe 50-60 fish and they were coming up to the surface. I put my finger out and wiggled it above the water and they would come to the surface and open their mouths. Some even jumped out of the water.

After the Yu Garden, Miranda gave us free time to wonder around the Old Yuyuan Street Bazaar and do some shopping.

I bought a little bronze Buddha statue and I also bought a couple of [Paigu] drums. They're the kind you line in various sizes and hit with short sticks.

It would've been really cool to get a complete set of at least four or five, [but since I was running out of room and wasn't sure how to transport them] I got a tiny one and one of the middle sizes. [I carried them on the plane in a plastic bag. Later I boxed them up.] I tried the drums out in the shop to see how they sounded for a little bit, and according to Jaime I attracted a little crowd of onlookers."

After killing an hour or so in the Shanghai airport, we boarded our flight to Osaka. It was about a three hour flight. When we arrived in Osaka, we once again went through customs and had our passports stamped.

We also received our "I passed the swine flu inspection" certificate and complimentary face mask to wear if we were so inclined.

We exchanged money, this time dollars for Yen, and got our 6 day Japanese Rail Pass. We killed another hour or so hanging around the airport while we waited on our buss that would take us to Kyoto.

Here's more from my travel journal:

"...As I'm looking out the bus window now, I'm noticing how green this area is. Also, when the plane landed, we could see blue sky which is quite a contrast to the orange brown grayish smog filled haze of Beijing and Shanghai. Hangzhou was not as bad I think because of all the greenery in and around the city. Also, Hangzhou is not as big as Beijing or Shanghai. I think Miranda said Beijing has a population of 15 million and Shanghai 17 million. That's huge! Not much further now (I think) to our hotel in Kyoto, so I am going to relax and stare out the window for a bit. I can see the beginnings of what looks like will be a gorgeous sunset."

By the time we pulled into the parking lot of our hotel, the sun had gone down and the lights were turned up. It was really windy too. It was refreshing to feel the coolness of the air on my face and take big deep breaths of clean air. Our hotel was directly across the street from the Kyoto train station (which would come in very handy over the next few days) and a mall. After checking in and taking our luggage up to our room, Jaime and I walked across the street to search out some dinner.

We walked passed several restaurants and peeked at some menus and ended up settling on one called TAKEZEN. We had a pot of tea, shared some sake, and each ordered a bowl of tempura udon. It was delicious. When we wanted some water, we called the hostess over and pointed at "mizu" in my Japanese phrase book. She smiled and brought us water. As we were paying the bill, I got brave and tried to say "thank you very much" by reading it out of my phrase book, but I think I butchered it. Our server just giggled at me and I had to show it to her in the book.

On our search for a place to have dinner we had walked past a donut shop called Mister Donut. I was craving something sweet, so we got a couple donuts to take back to the hotel room. We had a big day ahead.

China/Japan Trip- Hangzhou to Shanghai

2009-06-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

We woke up in the Lakeview Hotel in Hangzhou on Saturday May 30th, had breakfast and checked out of the hotel. We put our baggage on the bus and drove to West Lake. When I got off the bus, several homeless men possibly in their 80's or so approached the group and started begging for money. I gave them the change I had in my pocket then walked with the group toward an area where boats were docked. After purchasing tickets, we stood in line and waited to get on board one of the boats.

Our boat took us on a big loop around the lake. This was a very enjoyable experience. With it still being fairly early in the morning, there was lots of fog and mist out on the lake which added to the "otherworldlyness" of the atmosphere.

There were all sorts of different types of boats, some big, some medium sized, and some were tiny.

Some boats pulled up to tiny islands perhaps for an early picnic under a cypress.

Some people flew kites.

I mostly just enjoyed the scenery.

After disembarking the boat, our group took a leisurely stroll through an area called Peony Garden.

I wish we had this much color in our landscapes at home. I love all the greenery and the flowers.

We met up with a couple unexpected new friends on our walk.

Our new friends were quite loud, but so beautiful!

We finally had to say goodbye to our new friends and Hangzhou. We got on the bus, and after meeting up with Joyce and welcoming her back to the group, settled down for a two hour drive to Shanghai.

Our first stop was the Shanghai Museum which, after a long bus ride to Shanghai and after fighting local traffic for about an hour and after standing in line for 30 minutes and after going through the security check, we had an hour and a half to take in its five floors of glorious exhibits.

Jaime and I spent most of our time in the ancient history, and ceramics exhibits. We took a ton of pictures, but the camera's battery died while in the calligraphy and literature exhibit.

Jaime and I had been thinking about going out to see what Shanghai was like at night, but we were so tired that we just decided to stay in and eat dinner at the hotel. After dinner we went downstairs to have dessert and listen to the piano player in the lobby.

China/Japan Trip- Magical Day in Hangzhou

2009-06-19T21:35:00.000-07:00

On May 29th 2009, a Friday, we woke up in Beijing, and headed to the airport where we would catch a flight to Hangzhou in southern China. Miranda told us that Hangzhou (where she is from) is known as the city of love and leisure. What we saw of it was beautiful, but the day did not exactly start out as planned for the group.

In my travel journal I write:

"We got up at 4:45am in order to have time for breakfast, check out, and leave the hotel by 6:10. They took our all our luggage to the airport last night except for our carry-ons. One of our group members, Joyce, accidentally left her passport in her checked luggage. She had to stay behind in Beijing. I feel really bad for her. I said a little prayer for God to comfort her and keep her safe. Hopefully she will be able to meet with us tomorrow."

After a short flight, maybe an hour and a half at most, we got on a bus and headed for the Old Street, a part of Hangzhou where the store fronts have been remodeled to look like they might have several hundred years ago.

First, Miranda took us to a traditional Chinese pharmacy where they sell all sorts of roots, herbs, and other remedies for any ailment you can imagine. They even had free samples of an elixir that is meant to prevent you from catching swine flu.

After sipping on some swine flu juice, we went to go check out what the local vendors had to offer. We looked at chop sticks, clothing, novelty items, and yes instruments.

It was the sound of a little boy playing some kind of reed instrument that caught my attention. He was barley taller than my waist, but his playing was very emotional.

He played a Hulus. It's a gourd attached to three pieces of bamboo. I paid RMB50, about $7.50, for it.

While most of our group headed toward a McDonald's, Jaime and I decided to brave a local restaurant by ourselves. Even though none of the staff spoke English, we did okay and had a really good meal. We ate some pork ribs with a special glaze, pieces of beef on some skewers, and rice (which was not on the menu, but we saw other guests being brought bowls of rice, so I decided to call the waiter over and pointed to the word for rice in Jaime's travel book on China and sure enough, several minutes later two bowls of rice appeared on our table).

After visiting the Old Street, we took a drive through gorgeous subtropical landscapes, past the West Lake to an area called Flying Hill. We walked through Flying Hill on our way to the Lingyin Buddhist Temple.

Flying Hill got its name because the composition of the rock is very different from all the other rock compositions in the area. According to an old story, there was a crazy monk who lived at the Lingyin Temple. He said the rock area outside was so different that it must have flown from somewhere else far away, so he named the area Flying Hill.

There are lots of very old carvings in the rock. It was beautiful, but I think I would've felt more at peace had the crowds been a little less. There were lots of people visiting Flying Hill and the temple that day because it happened to be a holiday and lots of Chinese had the day off work. I do think it's nice that they would choose to visit a temple on their day off though.

The Lingyin temple is one of the oldest Buddhist temples in China.

The sweet smell of incense flowed throughout the complex.

It had some of the most awe inspiring sculptures inside the various buildings. Photography was not allowed inside the buildings, but I did utilize the zoom and capture a picture or two from the outside.

Last on the group's agenda for the day was to visit a tea plantation located in a very scenic little community outside the city.

Miranda told us about the process of choosing and picking the tea leaves,

and about how they're dried by hand.

We were given a formal presentation by a staff member, and of course drank some tea.

Jaime bought some to bring home and we have been drinking it faithfully. I love it!

Jaime and I had really been wanting to visit a Chinese tea house, so we asked Miranda to recommend one for dinner. She said there was one called the Ivy Tea House. She wrote down the address in case we were going to take a cab, but said it was about a 20 minute walk from the hotel. Daniela, Consuelo, and Rodrigo went with us. It was very different from what I expected. I think I expected it to be more formal than it was. I liked it a lot though. The girl at the door led the five of us to our own little room where we were given menus. We each ordered a pot of tea. After ordering tea, you were allowed to eat as much as you wanted from the two buffets (one at each end of the fairly large tea house). The tea was good, the food was good, the company was good. It was a great experience. At one point in the evening, I went to ask if I could have some water to drink. I went to the front counter and since I don't speak Chinese and the staff did not speak English, I pointed to a fish bowl and then drew a picture of a water bottle. I guess the picture wasn't very accurate because one of the girls brought out a pot of hot water. I shook my head no, and then I wrapped my arms around my body to make like I was shivering and went "brrrr" to try to tell her I wanted cold water. This time it worked. She brought two bottles of cold water.

After paying our bill, we took a leisurely walk along the lake back to our hotel.

Here's more from my travel journal:

"...The tea house was fun and we walked past the lake on the way back. We saw lots of Chinese doing line dancing and some were singing and playing instruments. I liked it a lot. Also, usually there is a light show for about five minutes every hour on the hour, but since it was a holiday, the show went for about 30 minutes. It was really neat."

The psychedelic light and water show was accompanied by a soundtrack that was part Brian Eno, part Pink Floyd, part very cheesy 80's music, and part traditional Chinese music. Jaime later said she thought the day was "magical."

China/Japan Trip- Great Wall, Jade Factory, Silk Road Market

2009-06-18T14:54:00.000-07:00

On May 28, 2009, a warm but drizzly Thursday, our study group visited a portion of the Great Wall of China near Beijing. We left our hotel around 9am after eating another big delicious breakfast. We drove for almost two hours before we got to our destination. As we drove out of the city and left the huge cement urban sprawl that is Beijing, I was pleased to gaze out of the window at small family farms, stone houses, and lots of green countryside. As we approached Badalingzhen, an area about 40 miles outside the Beijing area where tourists go to see the Great Wall, I could feel the presence of medieval China more and more. I could just glimpse parts of the Great Wall through the mist and light rain winding its way along the tops of the hills in the distance. Visiting the Great Wall was one of the things that I was looking forward to the most on this trip.

Here's an excerpt from my travel journal:

"The Great Wall was not exactly what I expected. I did not know it was something you climbed (at least at the section we went to). It was amazing and beautiful though... I know we only saw a very small portion of it. I like the way it wound its way up the mountains. I decided to make the whole walk/climb to the top. I might not have made the decision had I been able to see the whole distance from where we first stood at the bottom, but we could only see about 1/3 the way up the path from the bottom. The steps were very uneven. Some steps were almost as high as my knees and some were only an inch or two tall, but the path was a very steep one. I can not stress enough what a work out it was to make the climb. The were times I thought I couldn't keep going, but I told myself, just one step at a time." Myself and three others from the group walked up together. We took some minute or two breaks along the way and it took about an hour to get to the top and about 30 minutes to climb back down. I really got my exercise. My heart was pounding like it wanted to pop out of my chest and my muscles are sore. I didn't know it would be such a steep and long climb. As we walked, we could see that we were approaching watch towers along the way. I kept thinking that the next tower was the top, but every time we got to a tower, we saw that the path kept winding into the distance. We finally made it to the top and felt a big sense of accomplishment.

I'm proud of myself for making it the whole way. It was partly stubbornness and partly wanting to see the view from the top that drove me on."

The view was well worth it. Beautiful lush mountains covered in mist for 360 degrees.

The highway down below was a scar across the landscape.

Little cars scuttled little insects.

The Wall lay looking like a stone snake sprawling its body across the hills.

It looked and felt like the top of the world.

Before leaving the Great Wall (which I now think of as the Great Staircase of China), Jaime bought a t-shirt for Xen from a local artist who hand paints his shirts. He wrote Xen's name in English and in Chinese and signed it.

On the way back to Beijing we stopped at a Jade Factory.

Here's more from my travel journal:

"A guide explained about the process of carving the jade and how to tell the difference between fake and real jade. We had a good lunch at the factory/gallery and then got to look around for a while. Jaime bought a really cool stamper with a carved snake on the top. A master craftswoman carved her English and Chinese name. She bought some of the authentic red ink too. I think it was a really good buy.

Then we went to the Silk Road Market... It was five stories high and it had all sorts of fabrics, clothes, jewelry, knickknacks, toys, etc... Jaime bought a big fancy calligraphy brush, and two smaller sets of brushes, and paint. They came in beautiful little boxes. She is very happy to have bought some art supplies in China to take home. It was a main goal of hers.
One of my main goals [for the entire trip] if not the main goal was to bring back an instrument from China. I bought one at the market [a yueqin or moon qin which loosely translates as "moon guitar," or "moon mandolin."]. I am so happy about finding it. The starting price was at RMB1,500 without the case [about $230]. I was able to talk the girl down selling it to RMB450 with a really nice case for it [about $70]. The girl kept telling me that I could bargain hard for things like jewelry and shoes but not musical instruments. I gave her an "I don't believe you" look and just kept haggling until I got the price I wanted [She had a big calculator that she would use to punch in the price she wanted me to pay, then I would type the price I wanted to pay, then repeat many times until at one point I actually opened up my wallet and showed her I only had RMB321 in cash on me and that was "my top price." She said I could use her credit card machine, but since I had been warned by Miranda not to use the seller's credit card machines, I declined].

I ended up settling on the RMB450 but told her I had to go to the ATM, so she said she would come with me. She told me I was "very good bargainer," and that I drove a very hard bargain and she never sold something like that for that low of a price before. She told Jaime, "you have very good husband."

After shopping, we sat outside a little cafe and ordered a pot of green tea and people watched for a bit.

For dinner, we went to the super market and chose some things from the deli section and brought them back to the hotel room and ate there."

China/Japan Trip- Tienanmen Square and The Forbidden City

2009-06-17T13:46:00.000-07:00

Waking up in California on a Monday at 6am and not eating very much breakfast plus driving to LAX and eating some crappy McDonald's while waiting to board the plane to Tokyo plus 11 hours on the airplane eating 2 airplane meals plus waiting around in Tokyo for a couple hours plus another 4 hour flight to Beijing with a bag of "crisps" (which were actually pretty good and I'll take them over peanuts any day) plus taking about an hour and a half to go through customs and get our bags plus and an hour drive to our hotel equals about 24 hours of travel time, exhaustion, and a very very hungry stomach the next morning. Also, very weird to wake up on a Monday, travel for a day, go to sleep and wake up on a Wednesday morning.

Here's an excerpt from my travel journal:
"5/27/09 9am On the bus on our way to Tienanmen Square and the Forbidden City. The breakfast at the hotel was soooo good. I had two plates. It was a buffet style. I had noodles, rice, bacon, sausage, ham, a donut, deep fried potatoes, 2 cups of really strong but really good coffee, and some orange juice."

After breakfast I walked outside to see what I could see of Beijing from the front of our hotel.

Here's another excerpt from my travel journal:
"5/27/09 16:36 At hotel room now. Just took a shower. We spent about 7 hours walking around today. Tienanmen Square was okay. I really felt the presence of the all powerful government. Our tour guide, Miranda, is really really nice and helpful. She told us that if the temperature gets to be 40 degrees Celsius or more then the Chinese people don't have to work that day. Unfortunately, the weather forecast never goes above 39.9degrees C. She said they call it government controlled weather. She mentioned with a smile that we (the group) is probably aware of the fact that they (the Chinese people) have a very powerful government. There were lots of soldiers marching around [as well as plenty of video surveillance cameras in place].

Miranda said it is probably not a good idea to discuss politics in Tienanmen Square. She said there are rumors of police and military that wear plain clothes and are trained to read lips from a distance.

The Forbidden City was a lot bigger than I expected it to be. There were so many buildings to see.

We went to several museums that were in parts of the City that used to be rooms and structures for Imperial functions that have now been turned into museums that hold works of art and other artifacts.

We saw a ceramics museum,

a painting and calligraphy museum [that did not allow photography], a clocks museum,

and the Imperial treasure museum.

Unfortunately most of the Imperial Treasures are in foreign museums because they were stolen by allied forces (Britain, France, Japan, USA, etc) around 1900. At one point I got held up by a ticket man because our guide showed a group ticket for everyone to enter [the clockworks museum], but someone else snuck in and since I was last in line the ticket checker did not let me get through. I had to wave Jaime over and she got our tour guide to tell the man I was part of the group. She had to argue with him quite a bit to let me through.

We also saw a theater that had a 3 story stage and the Imperial garden. We took lots of pictures.

I didn't have much lunch. Everyone in our group is going to meet at a traditional Chinese restaurant for dinner around the corner from the hotel."

For dinner Miranda ordered a whole slew of different courses. I had rabbit that had a ton of little tiny bones in it and was cooked in a thousand peppers. It was the hottest dish I've ever had in my life! I also ate some spicy chicken, green beans, rice, noodles, and soup.

After dinner, Daniela, Joyce, Chelsea, Jessica, Jaime and myself took the subway a few stops away and got out and just walked around the city. We wanted to get a taste of what Beijing was like without our guide. It was fun. We walked for a couple hours, circled back to the same subway stop we got off at and rode it back to the hotel.

China/Japan Trip- Getting There

2009-06-16T17:43:00.000-07:00

Jaime and I woke up about 6am PST on Monday May 25, 2009. We showered, ate a quick breakfast, and headed to the X parking lot at SDSU where we would meet up with the rest of our study group members and leave for LAX via two shuttle vans. I hadn't slept too well the night before mostly due to excitement.

After arriving at LAX, we checked in and got our boarding passes. We would board a flight that would take us to Tokyo, Japan, and then from Tokyo we would fly to Beijing, China.

We finally arrived at the newly constructed turtle shaped terminal at Beijing's international airport after spending about 16 hours in the air plus all the wait time.

After going through customs and exchanging some American dollars for Chinese Yuan, we met Miranda who would be our guide in China and got on the bus that would take us to our hotel.

Buzz, Loop, and Manipulate - Review of Joy Von Spain's Seeking Stockhausen's Moustache

2009-04-28T15:42:00.000-07:00

What might happen if cevin key, Blixa Bargeld, and Phillip Glass were locked in a studio and told to produce a follow up album to Michael Gira's Body Haters, or a soundtrack to a sci-fi movie about a futuristic dance club on Saturn? I'm not sure, but it might sound something like Joy Von Spain's Seeking Stockhausen's Moustache released on Backwards Records.

Joy is a Seattle based musician/composer who holds a Bachelor of Music degree from the Cleveland Institute of Music where she studied with the late Donald Erb. She's also studied with Marilyn Shrude and Elaine Broad at the Interlochen Center for the Arts in Michigan.

Seeking Stockhausen's Moustache, as you may guess from its title, is influenced by 20th century composers who began to fully utilize electronic instruments and other advances in music technology. During the process of making the album, which consists of four fairly long tracks, Joy relied heavily on experimentation and improvisation. Most of the sounds heard originated from the Alesis Micron synthesizer. Joy would record various musical phrases, then chop, edit, loop, and layer these phrases to construct the final compositions.

A generous amount of signal processing was also employed to help create the textures and soundscapes, while hypnotic Hip-Hop inspired beats provide the rhythmic foundation. Melody definitely takes a backseat to rhythm and the overall texture (except maybe on the last track which is by far the most melodic out of the bunch). As electronic sounding as this album is, there are, according to Joy, elements from the natural world that help to inform and/or inspire it, such as the sound of cicadas.

So I know what you're thinking, "experimental soundscapes, cicadas, texture over melody... This could be either really, really good or really, really bad." Fortunately, its the former. Yes, there's enough noise to drown out fifty airplane propellers, but its not just noise for the sake of noise. The sounds actually go somewhere. The sounds evolve and contrast with each other in a delightful way.

This is definitely art music for the 21st century. Anyone who's ever heard a chorus of 20 different species of birds all singing at the same time and thought to themselves, "wow, I have to sample that, loop it, and run it through a million effects" (am I alone in this?) will love this album. If I had to give this album an alternate title, it might be, Buzz, Loop, and Manipulate.

You can order your copy of Seeking Stockhausen's Moustache, and check out her other releases and upcoming performances at Joy Von Spain's myspace.