Pudgy Indian

And here it is again!
Another beautiful day
as my friend the rain has come to visit
and dance with the light
and sparkle across the asphalt
as I wait for the bus.

And it is a wonderful morning
as I again cross the bridge
to be with you
and write here.

Last night
I made another friend.
A friend on the other side of the country.
And we talked
and I could feel it...
I could sense it...
The Revolution!
It is all over!
Here is a woman
on an invisible line
and we are talking about life
and I know...
I know...
We are coast to coast...

Revolution

an act of rebellion against an authority
coming 360 degrees
a complete circle
We are coming in a complete circle

Empires have come and gone...
and we are still here.
It is never the end of the world...
We are still here.
The Revolution is here.
We are still here.
There is beauty all over in this world
and here We are...
You, and me, and so many others.

Revolution Now!

"We fight for beauty,"
is a Pawnee saying.
"We fight for beauty."
And the rules have all changed
and all of the rules need to change again
"We fight for beauty"
But we should not kill...
to kill is to become them
and they have more horrific ways to kill
"We fight for BEAUTY!"
and we need to be clever
and take it all back
take it all back
TAKE IT ALL BACK!

There is a lot going on in my life, right now.

Today, I went on a date (I think it will become a friendship, which I think I prefer in this situation). Tonight, my daughter and I are going to a live show. Currently my last ex is hanging with her in another room which makes me apprehensive remembering her verbally abusive behavior. Makes me uncomfortable. My daughter says she likes her better now and I remind her my ex is still the same person and that behavior still exists in her. It is OK to hang with her in public because she will behave at the moment. Still, it makes me uncomfortable, especially since I have to deal with her down at the station. I have to hug her for (at least I tell myself) diplomatic reasons. Keeping peace. Dealing with someone I'd rather not deal with, and at least it is only on rare occasions (once or twice a month), but the feeling is still the same. I don't feel safe. But I know it is safe. I don't want her in my house. I don't want her to know where I live. I don't want her hanging with my kid (though she is at the moment and my kid will tell me it's OK, but it is not OK with me). ...It is not OK with me.

I just have to write, since I am here at the moment, and creative stuff isn't coming out. Dealing with life stuff is.

My publisher is getting more books printed as my last few books are committed to some people. We were shooting for a reading for the Indian students at PSU, or with the Native American Youth Association, but all are showing absolutely NO interest. My publisher is going to talk to the "Back to Back Cafe" and see if they'd be interested in hosting an event and maybe even get the Wobblies next door to allow us to use their space.

I went on a scouting mission with my publisher and a small group that wants to do a video of one of my poems. It is the "Oregon Holocaust Memorial" poem that is in the book and not on this blog. They photographed all the things mentioned in the poem and are going to put together a story board to properly express the poem. They plan on releasing it to film festivals. We'll see. But it should be fun and an interesting experience.

I'm currently starting to get upset the longer I hear my daughter and my ex laughing. If you understood with my daughter and I went through being with her, you'd probably understand. At the same time, I know that we are in a safe place, but it doesn't seem to matter as it just keeps getting more intense in my soul and it pisses me off that such anxiety still has a role in my life. I hate it...and I hate my ex.

OK, OK, OK...breathe, breathe, breathe...

What else is going on in my life? Tomorrow my friend Cynthia and I are going to get together and do some brainstorming. Cynthia is an awesome human being. You know, sometimes we meet people who are very special in this world. I know two of them. Cynthia, and another friend of mine, Orion. I know there are more, but I just have to get to know more people. I already know a lot of people, but...I want to get to know more.

There are marches coming here in Portland, one in solidarity with the farm workers next weekend, and two weeks after that an anti-war march remembering three years of illegal war and death in Iraq.

I can't think of anything else to talk about at the moment. My anxiety isn't getting worse, but it isn't getting better at the moment, either.

...argh...sigh...

This morning,
stars dot the blackened sky
as I start my usual journey
across the Burnside Bridge.

But, just like everyday,
it is not usual.

My sister, the river,
is shining in a glorious beauty.
Her dark green surface
has beads and threads of reflections
from the street lights golden and silver.
One looms like a doorway
in the reflection of a tree.
Today, nothing is the same
as my beautiful sister
is smooth ripply waves of beauty.

And I see
through the twisted fingers of the bare trees
...the crescent moon
waning above SE Portland.
Maybe over my daughter?
It hooks the earth and sky together
in legends forgotten
or not yet created.
A star on her upper left,
(Mercury maybe?)
it looks as if the moon
has tossed her there
in yet another forgotten
or not yet created legend.

The clouds in the sky
on the eastern horizon
are dusted brown
as the sun reaches and pulls
the earth in yet another
completed circle to be
started over in another beautiful
and wonderful day.

I make my offerings,
but am so dumbfounded by the beauty of it all
that I'm not sure what to pray
so I pray for everybody's good health
and make my offerings
on the frosty sidewalk
across the tiniest
great divide
and in the middle of it all
geese start honking
and they fly directly overhead
10 in all
9 on the left and one on the right
in the arrow pointing
to where they need to go.

THIS IS A FUCKING BEAUTIFUL WORLD
AND DAMN
IF I DON'T WANT IT ALL BACK!

I'm feeling a lot of energies, lately. I feel very energized, and at the same time, if I could, I'd go home and go back to bed.

I have a lot coming up in my life. I can feel it. I can smell it. I have no idea what it means, but I have the feeling I'm going to be busy, but not TOO busy. I feel like I'm about to take a roller coaster ride. FUN, EXHILIRATING, SCARY, EXCITING, AMAZING, FLIRTATIOUS, ANTICIPATION,...But the funniest thing is, I'm not exactly clear what that means. It may just pass an nothing will have happened. It may be the predecessor to taking a journey I'm going to have to surrender myself to and have fun and be excited instead of terrified and hurt. Life is good! Life is spicy!

Hey! Spirit World! What's going on?...or Should I just let it be a surprise? I feel like I should be able to tell. Eyyyyyyy!

Just met a wandering Cherokee
on a journey from nowhere
to here
to quench his alcoholic thirst
with beer
to be converted from the handful
of change
I gave my loud and amazing
brother
who appeared out of nowhere
looking for a piece of survival.

Don't tell me I'm perpetuating a problem.
Look around you,
there are lots of problems
being perpetuated.

Homeless and braving the cold,
he has come here
via the grayhound
on a 3 1/2 day sleepless journey
at a time he won't admit
because he is here and now
and in the face of this strange world
where we both survive
in different ways
using different medicines.

We are determined to get it all back.

We are a testament to the wills
of our peoples determination
to LIVE
in the world of our destruction.
We need to heal
the genetic pain
that comes with our race
in a world
that doesn't recognize
our existence.
So he yells out loud
and obnoxious
in this world
where people are
discomforted
by his loud
alcoholic obnoxious voice.

To assure a good trade,
the Cherokee,
whose birthday is in a few days,
fills my top tobacco pouch
assuring the answering
of future prayers
to be offered
to my river,
or,
I should say,
the river I belong to.

On his breath
mixed with the smell of
alcohol, bad teeth, and the vibration of a voice
calling out to be recognized
in this world,
I smell...
Revolution.

Tulips blaze in a Fiery glaze
upon my dining room table.
Dusty gray pink red
on the outside of its
soft alluring petals.
A rich soft red on the inside.
A gentle cup,
reaching to the sky,
reaching for the Love
she receives in a dance
so slow and sweet
you don't see it happening,
but you know it is there. You feel the power,
and know it is there...
all atop a strong green stem
with long wide
flat leaves
wrapping lovingly,
seductively,
around it in a tiny pot of soil.

The dance of life is happening
on my dining room table.
A blessing.

Inside this
"bath of life"
emerges
a gentle sweet scent
that touches
the deepest parts of my soul.
I gaze inside the tulips cup of life
to see being born
from the depths,
rising up
from the ash colored
flame with
gentle reminders of yellow sun
strewn throughout,
whose flames lick up the base
of each petal...
Like a phoenix rising,
a three section
yellow pistel,
a reminder of the triple goddess,
surrounded by six
slender pointy stamen
covered in black polleny life.

The world has given birth anew.
Spring is in the air.
Time to share Love
with the world.

Today, the world is painted yet another color. A shade. This day, it is a shade of gray. The gray is so beautiful. It seems like the world has been painted a completely new color. All of the same old buildings in downtown portland seem like a different color.

Some of the architecture is hideous to me in downtown. It looks like an art/deco kitchen. Bland, boring, american... But then there are buildings like a beige painted brick building. It is a light shade of beige and as neutral as it sounds, but the grey of the early afternoon drenches it in a new perfume, a new hue, a new...

The windows have a green trim, and as I pass the west side of this interesting old building, I notice that the old putty that had worn and covered the face of the bricks was painted over as well. It looked like a map of a world long gone or yet to come.

As the bus drove in from my home in the boonies and through the city as it bridged over the 405 concrete and asphalt riverbed whose water was replaced by cars driving to destinations unknown in both directions, upstream and downsream and just as fast.

The clouds in the sky are reflected in the glass of the building as we zoom on by. It is like watching a movie. A movie about the city. A movie about life in the city.

There are many female shaped mannequins trying to sell clothes to passers by. All the mannequins are the same shape, same size...

Then there was the red brick building with cream colored pillars and decorations. Many fluffy marble feathers crowing her top. Cream colored marble vines crawling all around her beauty.

Some of the trees look like thin fingers reaching into the sky. Silvery shards of winter clinging to their beauty as the spring comes to clothe them again in yet another form of beauty, rebirth, renewwal.

Crossing the bridge, I see what I assume to be a tower that is used for training firemen. It's rectuangular tall narrow window spaces emptied of all but air. A deep black tinge with a black metal fire escape staircase leading up...or is that down?

The river, a rich indescribable green as I again come here and write to you.

Something is required before oppression can be ended. No, America, you cannot be allowed to get away with your crimes simply because you will use horrific brute force should we desire to find the truth and demand justice.

TRUTH, JUSTICE, HEALING, RECONCILIATION AND PREVENTION OF FUTURE
ABUSES: THE FOCUS OF INQUIRY, JUDGMENT and DISPOSITION

This is one of the beginning lines of a document about boarding school abuses to be found at below. America, I want truth, justice, healing, reconciliation and prevention of future abuses. JUSICE! I want it all back.

http://www.chgs.umn.edu/Histories__Narratives__Documen/Documents_on_Native_American_G/TRBFND1A.pdf

It was a good day down her at the BOO yesterday. We had a good turn out. I was really proud of the work JJ Johnson and Ani Haines did in organizing this wonderful event.

At 3:00pm, when the Native section of the airplay started, I was the only Indian in the house. So I started with my angry Indian show. I read poetry and played songs for people to remember the horror and genocide we have gone and are going through and living with. But we are here and we are a happy and joyous and Loving people as well. I want to give all of that to the people because as an Indian, I don't fit in the boxes most people believe an Indian should fit in.

David Liberty showed up a little after the program started. My friend Denise and her son, Ryan, showed up. They hung out with Leigh Anne as I spent the next three hours involved with two different shows. Terwin, a local musician, came down and he played us a couple of original tunes using David's guitar. It was Indians getting together on the air, right here, this day, it was so fucking beautiful! Because of a large hunk of my time being taken up with the two shows, I was unable to mingle as much as I would have liked to.

I did get frustrated with some of the discussion during the forum, but managed to get my complete thoughts in. The questions are much more complicated and as I heard the stories of identity and what we want to be called, the ideas were shown that we are much more than the boxes our identity put us in as far as the american society is concerned. We are not only diverse as peoples, we are diverse within our people as well. We do not think as one, and yet in many ways we do. It is clear that people are divided in many ways, and yet we are united in many ways. We have so many commonalities. That is what I loved about the whole thing. We were a panel of people who have had colonization forced upon us, and it is still being forced upon us.

I wasn't too pleased with the moderation of the forum, but it worked out well. I still made it a point to let people know that this is an occupied territory. You all are on my land. According to the laws of the U.S. government, our laws, international laws, my laws, this is an occupied territory and occupied territories are kept by force. Indians are not sovereign nations. Our governments (corrupt as most are, but no where near as horribly as the U.S. government) cannot make a move without permission of the U.S. government. We can't have back anything those fuckers stole from us without their permission.

One question was "should we give up the oppression of the past?" I'm waiting for the fuckers to quit oppressing us now. The oppression of women is rampant and out of control in this country and world. Women have a general understanding of this. I want the oppression to fucking stop. I want it to stop now! The question seemed to really ask "should we just shut up about what the colonizer nations did to our respective peoples and allow them to get away with their crimes of the past?" Their crimes of the past are happening RIGHT FUCKING NOW! I want it to stop. I want justice. I want it all back. I want health care for all. Etc. I've tried to drive that point home with the few minutes I had to contribute. How about a little truth. Let's force the oppressors to stop oppressing us as they do and then have some justice for their crimes that they have committed historically to the present and on into the future until we do something about it.

Another great thing that I got out of this is that it is another connection. It is a realizing that so many of us are forced into very similar boxes. We have grounds for unity.

REVOLUTION NOW!

The issues are much more complicated than the tiny discussion we got to have...but we got to have it. There are so many pieces to the puzzle, but I know we can all put it together and create the kind of world our children and our childrens children and we ourselves deserve.

Denise, Ryan, and I went to see the Pink Panther. I think I went on a date!

Ohhhhhh!!!! And let's not forget that wonderful sweet potato pie JJ's wife made (I apologize to her for forgetting her name). OH MY GOODNESS!

Good food! Good friends! Great community! Fantastic radio station!

All in all, it was one great fucking day! I really appreciate all the work that Ani and JJ put into this project. I am thankful for all the programmers and supporters and listeners. Big hugs to the lot of ya!

It is a bright and beautiful day as I sit her at the BOO. It is cold as well, but it feels so good to me.

Today is diversity day on KBOO 90.7fm. Right now it is Latina, then Asian, then Indian, then a forum, then African American, the Iranian. Every hour and a half from noon, PST! I'll be on from 3 to 4:30 with John Talley (host of Indian World), and David Liberty (co-host of Mitakuye Oyasin). We can be reached on the web at www.kboo.fm.

We plan on shooting from the lip, as we are good at that. I plan on playing some fun and intense stuff. Read a few poems. Discuss Indian country with my buds. Maybe change the world. Who knows.

Well...LIFE IS GOOD!

As I head to work
across the Burnside Bridge
above my sister
the river,
I think of the morning before
the second day
of red city
at daybreak
and remember...
Remember the perregrin falcon
that flew above and before me.
This morning
on the same spot
I remember the day before
and think
"little could top that falcon"
when I look up
and see a large bird.
I thought "turkey buzzard? Osprey?"
It's an eagle!
It's a bald eagle!
and it flies right over my head
some 30 yards up.
OK, the previous day was topped.

I thought there were a couple of women interested me, both of whom said they would be at my last reading, neither of whom were. Looks like I was completely wrong on both parts.

The one whom I've already been talking to since the reading has expressed no interest in what my reading was like, nor any interest in responding to the writing that I have passed on to her. So I believe I was completely wrong in my interpretation that there was interest on her part beyond sales to customer.

The other one, I found out, was busy at someone's apartment drinking and singing karaoke. When I saw her today, she didn't even acknowledge my presence. I was obviously completely wrong in my assessment that there was any interest on her part for me.

When I am interested in a woman, I put myself in their paths to encounter them. I give them my phone number. I call them. I let them know I feel interest toward them. These have always ended in friendships.

So, I now know, there is no one who is actually interested in getting to know me better other than my friends. I can sit well with that. In fact, I do sit well with that. In fact, that feels really good.

Although I've been told there is interest out there toward romance in my direction, all the actual evidence screams in my face the the opposite is actually true. There is no interest on the part of anyone in a romantic tone in my direction. There is power in that knowledge. I don't have to worry about anything.

Of course, I'll still get those natural urges for companionship from time to time, but I am now aware that it is not going to happen for me any time soon if at all. Good to know.

Post cards post cards everywhere, and I get to see them live. What a great, cold, crisp morning!

Hey...Let's start the Revolution right now! I declare you all leaders in the movement to stop all war. No more oppression against women, blacks, mexicans, poor, indians, homeless... Bring about food, clothing, health care, housing, unions, etc., for the people

I made my offerings on the Burnside Bridge this morning, and the moon was hanging over the city illuminating it in the night.

Yesterday morning, crossing back across the bridge, the whole city was red. A beautiful morning red. Then six geese flew between me and the city low over the Burnside Bridge and I laugh because just this morning, crossing over the other way, I thought it would be so funny if geese flew over the bridge in that semi-cliche kinda way.

Don't forget, be as revolting as possible.

The world
I get to see
on the regular paths of my journeys
from days beginning
to days end.

Today, as I cross the Burnside Bridge,
the air is cold and crisp
it feels powerful and wonderful
as it surrounds my body
and touches my face
with the Love of a mother.

The moon,
not quite full
hangs quietly over the city.

Every few steps
I stop and lean on the rail
and see the beauty
from many different points along my journey
this journey I take regularly
almost daily.

I see the same woman
almost every weekday morning
as I cross to come here
and write to you.
Every morning,
we say "good morning" to each other.
Simple little thing that makes me feel so fucking good.

I have no idea
how to date.
I think of sex
and beauty
and what we'd have for dinner
and who's our favorite comedians
hold hands
and walk across a bridge...
then...

I think of Revolution
the next generations
my daughter
my friends
and I want a Revolution
I want to change the world
I only have a limited time
on this earth.
What am I going to do with it?
Watch TV?
Might as well
try to bring about
the type of world I'd like to see
where there is no war
and we can face our challenges
by sharing
and not killing one another.
Not too much to ask.
And don't tell me that it is,
because it is NOT too much to ask.

Along these little journeys of mine
I always remember
there is so much more to the world
than just me,
and I get to see those photos
like the ones being sold
at Saturday Market,
and I get to see those photos
live as they are happening
right before my very eyes.
Look carefully...
You may just find beauty
right before your very eyes.

OK, I spoke too soon. Leas would like to try another venue and still continue along the lines we are, but not do a printing to release to book stores. So I guess we'll be doing it like this for a while until I get an audience worked out. Sounds like a bit of work. Eh! What else am I gonna do? Go on a date? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Well, I'm tired and gonna head home. You all have a nice V-DAY!

The last e-mail I received from my publisher didn't sound too...well... I think he isn't going to want to risk his money on doing a run of 200 for the lack of interest at the last reading. I think the books he had printed will be it. I'm not sure if he has any left, but if he does, I'm sure he'd be interested in getting them sold IF there is anyone out there interested in them. I doesn't sound like I'll be doing anymore readings. It was a good effort, if such is the case. Oh well! I should know more this evening, but it really doesn't look promising and it looks like the book will be dead before it reaches the book stores due to a lack of interest.

Happy Valentines/V-Day one and all. May you all be feeling the Love tonight. Me...I'll be going home, maybe having some dinner, and curling up in bed by myself in order to catch up on some much needed sleep I've missed in the last couple of days! Y'all have a good time!

In the article, "Bush plans to save money by cutting Indian programs," to be found on:
http://www.indianz.com/News/2006/012448.asp I would just like to point out a few things. The article shows many violations of the U.S. Constitution and human rights by George Bush and his administration without stating it directly.

Bush is planning to cut funding and/or eliminate programs for Indian health, education, and food. This action is in direct violation of all treaties signed between the U.S. Government and the many indigenous nations of this great turtle island. That makes it a direct violation of article six, section two of the U.S. Constitution which states treaties are the supreme law of the land. This means that Bush and his administration stand in direct violation of the U.S. Constitution as well as violating international law. When a treaty is violated, legally, conditions are to return to what they were prior to the signing of the treaty. As Bush, his administration, and all of the U.S. Government continues to violate treaty and international law, that legally establishes the U.S. Government as an illegal occupational force on Indian land.

Bush and his colleagues have violated much of these, and so many other, laws; constitutional, national, local, international, treaty, etc. These violations even get printed in the papers and are sometimes headlines. Reporters don't tell you what you are actually seeing, so most people believe it's OK because the information is being printed in alleged respected newspapers. Nope...the Bush and every American administration has and is still committing crimes.

Health, education, and food are also human rights. The Bush administration is violating human rights. They are violating the human rights of most folks in this nation. These are facts. THERE IS AN ELEPHANT IN THE LIVING ROOM! There is still plenty of time to live life and to dance. But LET'S DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS ELEPHANT IN OUR LIVING ROOM!

I mostly just want to point out the fact that the Bush administration is violating the U.S. Constitution. That legally makes the U.S. Constitution null and void. The Bush administration is a tyranny. And that tyranny isn't simply going to end if you put a Democrat into office. We have to change things on the ground, here, ourselves. Many people are working in that direction. Hook up. Do something. You only get a certain amount of time on this earth. What are you going to do with it? Let's change everything. What the fuck? What else are we gonna do? You are not alone. Let's stand together...and Let's dance together!

My favorite part about the reading on Friday was getting to meet people who have been fans of "Mitakuye Oyasin" and/or "Native Nations" shows for so long. I Love meeting those people who have listened for so long. I get a chance to learn a little about them or even become friends with them. I get a chance to interract with the people. I get a chance to encourage them. We get a chance to hang out with each other, if even for a brief moment. The people. The people are suddenly becoming an inspiration to me. My mind is being inspired into new forms of thoughts.

In many ways, I'd much rather be a lazy ass. I don't want to do much more than I already am. I feel that spirit is thrusting me in another direction, however. Much of the major things in my life have been thrust upon me. I don't want to be this, but I am having it thrust upon me and so I either do it or get spiritually kicked in the ass until I do it. Might as well start now and see it out. I've done the kicks in the ass. It isn't so fun because I wind up doing what I'm supposed to, but starting it out with a sore ass.

Romance? I realized I aint ready for romance. So I'll put that somewhere else in my psyche for now.

I am get an idea of something to do when in front of an audience. Interconnection with the people, if only for a moment. It should really be fun...or at least interesting. The tough part will be not wanting to script this. Eh...I'll sit on this for a few and see what happens.

I have to talk with Leas and find out what we do from here. I have been asked by one person to do this again because she really wanted to be there but had to be at the meeting and then it was so exhausting. I think it will be emotionally draining...BUT WHAT THE FUCK! I guess I should give it another chance before I start doing regular readings wherever the fuck if it comes to that. Shit! I have no idea, but what the fuck? Might as well. Where the fuck else am I gonna go? I am supposed to do what I can, and if I don't, I get kicked in the ass, especially when I stick my ass out there to get kicked.

So much of my life has been thrust upon me. I've been reluctant to do any of it, but finally wind up doing it because I'm supposed to. I never know what is going to come of any of it, really, but what the fuck else am I gonna do? I have another 40+ years to go, so I'm told, and times a wasting. I gotta go dance with the people and see what works and what doesn't and see what happens. One more thing. Eh...What the hell?

I'm starting to get hungry. I'm gonna go find some lunch, do some walking and thinking. I think I have my notebook.

I saw the movie, "The Forgotten Root," with my friend Julie the other day. It is part of the African Film Festival in Portland and was about the African roots of the Mexican people. It was interesting to see how the mixed bloods were divided into different categories in order to fit into the caste system. It was a good film and I learned a lot, but I noticed something strange.

The word "conquest" was tossed about like it was actually OK that it happened. It's tossed about in this movie like it was a natural act. Like it was a piece of evolution. Survival of the fittest. Natural.

To control a people by oppression, rape, mass slaughter, slavery, starvation, and many other various forms of FORCED subjugation is OK at the root if you listen carefully enough.

Talking about "conquest" in such a manner as to make it sound natural is disturbing. Conquest is forcing people to do what you want them to do. Like rape. It is a rape culture. If a man can overpower a woman and rape her, it is a conquest, natural, because, afterall, this nation was founded on the forcing of nations to release all title to their lands via genocide.

But wait, I'm not done. At least in Mexico, they acknowledge it. They acknowledge the conquest. They acknowledge that an extreme brutality took place, even if they do believe it to be natural to be so horribly cruel and take things that belong to others. Here in the states, it's not even mentioned. No one says, "on October 12, 1492, Columbus discovered America. Then came the conquest." Nope. It's more like, "first came Columbus, then American independence, then George Bush, Jr." You won't see the great American slaughter of the Indians even mentioned, let alone being described as a natural conquest survival of the fittest.

If conquest is natural and OK, then so must be rape. Conquest is the forcing of whole groups of peoples to do something against their will so the conquerer can steal what they have for themselves. Rape operates along the same lines. Rape is the forcing of others to perform sexual acts against their wills. No wonder their are so few arrests for acts of sexual violence, let alone convictions. It is considered a natural act to force somebody to give you something that doesn't belong to you. No wonder the Portland police aren't arresting, let alone not investigating, the child rapes of the archdiocese in this great city of ours. They were just small natural acts of conquest.

BULLSHIT! These people are criminals and their behavior has to be stopped and it all has to change. I, for one, will accept nothing less.

At my reading last night, it was a flop as far as attendance, but as far as friendships shared and meeting a few wonderful people who have been fans of my show, it was a success. There was a young couple there that had been fans for a long time. The young woman and I talked a while and she bought two books, one for her brother. Another woman had been a fan of the show for a while. I wish I could have gotten to know these people better. Maybe they'll be volunteers down her at the BOO soon.

It was great seeing David there. I didn't recognize him without his glasses at first. My friend Janice was there. It was only the second time I've seen her in many years. Julie showed up for a bit, then headed off to have many other journeys. Of course, Leas and Brian where there. Not only are they my friends, but Leas is my publisher. Mike, one of the cameramen from the TV show I host came. It was good to see him.

I enjoyed the time with my friends and hung out with Cynthia for a while after the show. It was so much fun. Cynthia makes me laugh so hard. She is so charming and sweet and fun to hang out with.

If I learned one thing from yesterday it's this: alleged interest is not actual interest. The lack of attendance makes me worry about the book going into book stores. If it doesn't sell, then my publisher is out a good amount of money. I think it's great he believes so much in what I have to say, but I don't want him to lose money on this thing. Lots of people have alleged interest in the book, but I don't think that many people are actually interested in it.

There were two women I thought were interested in me that said they were going to be there that never showed. I'm glad I didn't embarass myself by asking them out. I would have felt like a fool...but then again...I'm good at that and sometimes it can be fun. Alleged interest? I must have been lying to myself. Oh well.

The funniest thing is that Leas wanted to do this event in order to get a bunch of BOO heads there because so many expressed disappointment in missing the first one. However, a board meeting got scheduled for the same time as my reading at Grendel's. After the board meeting was over, only one of the attendees came over and complimented my work. Alleged interest and actual interest are two different things. At least those people compliment my work and accomplishment at getting published, but their actual interest in the work is minimal at best.

What did hurt was the fact that so many people told me they were definitely going to be there and then didn't show. Were they lying? Again, alleged interest and actual interest are two different things.

But then again, I feel successful. I got to see a few of the faces I never get to see. I got to express my perspective to Eric, the owner of Grendel's, who really enjoyed my work. His barista of the evening, Marie, really enjoyed it as well. I was really hoping to have a larger audience and make it worth while for Eric. He told me he did fine. Still.

My favorite thing, however, was some 4 or 5 people who came, I believe not knowing what the event was about. But once they started hearing my words, it was time to leave. One woman was visibly grimacing. It was great! Those are the people I want to reach. The people who are more offended by my words than they are by the genocides we all benefit from. Not thinking about it isn't going to make it go away, and I think the creator sent them there for a reason and what they heard is going to be something that will effect their lives in one form or another.

My only worry now is that Leas will lose money if we take this to stores. Like I said, alleged interest and actual interest are two different things. I seriously question the idea of doing a second project, as well. If we do take this to stores and no one buys it, a second project is out of the question, in my opinion. Why try to sell something people don't want.

I feel like this was a successful failure. It was a great and intimate reading, but if there is so little interest in the work, it will be harmful to the man who is publishing it, left sitting on a run of books nobody wants to buy. Alleged interest? Actual interest?

I don't know where we are supposed to go from here.

I started with the story of Isaac Asimov watching a man throwing starfish into the ocean. The man told him it was because the tide was going out, and the sun was shining, so all those starfish were going to be stranded and die dried out in the sun. So he was throwing them back in. Seeing the thousands of starfish being stranded, Asimov told the man that he wasn't making much of a difference. The man bent over, picked up a starfish, and threw it into the ocean. "I made a difference to that one," he told him. Asimov spent the rest of the day throwing starfish into the ocean.

I think I may have tossed a couple of starfish into the ocean last night.

Today, it is so windy. When I hit Burnside after getting off of the bus, the wind at one point pushed me around like I was a leaf. It was a great and fun dance and had me giggling the whole damned time.

Up on the Burnside Bridge, it was occasionally more of the same. It was so fun and so nice. I had to put my hat in my clothes bag. The bag with the change of clothes for this evening.

I'm starting to get nervous, but it is good. Tonight, another reading will be under my belt, and I doubt I'll have another chance at keeping a live audiences interest for a potential three hours. It should be fun.

I am brave enough to stand before you and try to motivate you to help change the world, but I'm too shy to ask a woman on a date. It is so good to laugh at myself.

I have seen in coffee houses around town the "My Chocolate Boyfriend." The chocolate man is uniform in all places I have seen it. An obvious generic white man with short wavy hair, blue-jeans and button up the front plaid short-sleeved shirt. OKOKOKOK! I know people well enough to know there are many different preferences out there. Some like the short stubby bald dudes. Some like them a little pudgy. Some like 'em with long wavy hair. Some have glasses. What about punkers? What about skate boarders? What about tattooed dudes? What about men with beards and mustaches? What about men in skirts? What about kilted men? The "My Chocolate Boyfriend" is just a standard white guy. What about black men? What about Indian men? What about Jewish men? What about Mexican men? What about Arabic men? What about mixed bloods? What about smiling men? What about pouty sad men? No. If you want a chocolate boyfriend, you have only one style to choose from, unlike the men you'll see walking down the street.

BUT WAIT! WHY AREN'T THERE ANY CHOCOLATE GIRLFRIENDS! OOOOO! Chocolate Indian Girlfriends with huckleberry filling...AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! I'LL TAKE A DOZEN!

...oh...there aren't any chocolate girlfriends...not even chocolate girlfriends stuffed with huckleberries...that really sucks!

Well, happy early Valentines Day and V-day.

At the bus stop between MLK and Grand on the way to the BOO this morning, another one of those sweetest things. A woman tells two children that the bus was coming. One little boy got so excited and shreiked in excitement. I could still hear him when I got to the rushing traffic of Grand Avenue.

Remember when we were kids, and the littlest things seemed so wonderful and amazing.

At the concert last night, Heidi's husband, Traian was being a grouch. The rest of the band was late and Traian had some creativity screaming to get out. They all finally showed up and all was well in the world. Heidi and I even danced a waltz, and she teased me that some day I was going to have to lead.

Still...I dance a helluva lot better than Che.

On the way to the BOO from work this afternoon, everything was beautiful in this amazing break in the weather. The sweetest thing, however, was when I walked past a furniture store. In the glass storefront is a lounge pointed the opposite direction from me. I saw pointed toed black shoes and nylons and wondered, "manequine?" I got closer, and there was a formal business dressed woman kicking back and her eyes were almost closed. I saw they were open enough for her to look up and see my smiling face. I waved at her and she waved back. It was the sweetest thing.

Tonight...I dance! I hope Heidi brings her dancing shoes.

I was hearing on the news that GW and the gang are doing all they can to build a new nuclear program. Isn't that great! Think of all the shit our grandchildren will have to put up with now because of that genocidal maniac. It is going to fuck up our world the the world for generations to come. Those assholes need to smoke some pot. They need to get out to the earth and not that stupid bullshit he does at Crawford. But this isn't going to happen. Fuck tha lilly white bastard child of two evil pieces of shit. FUCK THEM ALL!

What are we going to do, folks? I am always speaking out. I am not even losing footing on where I stand. I know these fuckers are completely insane and have to be stopped. I know that we, the people, can stop this monster. If we can't, at least we will have tried. We can do this, folks. Will we? I like to think so!

Tonight, I am going to a concert at It's a Beautiful Pizza where my housemate, Heidi's husband and daughter will be playing in a band. Maybe I'll let myself be less shy and do some dancing...nah! Most likely I'll be dancing with Heidi, and she is a great dancer.

CHE! I still dance better than you. CHE! You still are one helluva better Revolutionary...but I'll catch up brother, or at least get somewhat close.

Crossing the St. John's Bridge aroudn 8:45 yesterday, I had to interrupt Tommy, my companion. He was reading me a poem he had written about observations in a bar. Mt. St. Helens, across the river, in her snow covered beauty was shining like the Goddess she is on the Northern horizon. She looked ancient and beautiful in the morning sun.

I drove slowly across the bridge. I didn't care if anyone was behind me. And then I did care and looked in my mirrors. There was no one behind me, so I didn't care if anyone was behind me again. I stared at the gloriousness of the mountain.

"I apologize for interrupting," I told Tommy.

"No! It's OK!" he said as he stared at the beautiful goddess with me. As the green covered wires and steel came between us and the view, it didn't seem to matter as much as I thought it would because her beauty shined in such an amazing light.

I look forward to eyeball for any oncoming traffic when in the archway of the bridge, facing west, is the triple peaks of the beautiful goddess known today as Mt. Adams. She is beautiful and I miss her terribly. I look forward to the approaching summer when we will again visit.

"Check that out!" I tell Tommy, who looks at that mountain in amazment.

Then we think about Mt. Hood, and there he is, an amazing God under a layer of thin clouds with an amazing cloud formation to its left.

We look from mountain to mountain to mountain until we are in St. John's and can no longer see any of the mountains.

Tommy suggested that we go back across the bridge, but go backwards.

At work on the table in the lunch room, there is a couple of plastic bottles with honey in them. The brand is called SueBee. There is a little white dark haired girl above the name wearing a turkey feather in her hair and a collared shirt. What the fuck does that have to do with the brand name.

Near the bottom is the statment, "U.S. Grad A Fancy White Pure Honey." Fancy white honey? Honey is golden brown. Is this like telling us Indians we are white now. Is this the Great American Melting Pot that Ed Edmo describes? He says in the Great American Melting Pot everything is supposed to melt white. Are they trying to force the honey to be white like they have us Indians?

White Indian girl on the label of brown honey that is called Fancy White. WHAT THE FUCK?

For those of you who are familiar with my writing, you are aware that I cuss a lot in my poetry and short stories. There is a reason for this.

You see, most people will be more offended by the word FUCK than words like: genocide, rape, mysogony, sexism, racism, child molestation, violence, abuse, etc., etc., etc. Those words will have an effect on you, but nothing like the word...FUCK!

What does fuck mean? I've heard a couple of meanings tossed out about FUCK being an acronym of either or both "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge," or "Fornication Under Consent of the King."

Fuck is used (like in my poetry) as an expletive. ex: "what the fuck?" It has a more intense feel that I want you to have than, "What is going on?" Or this: "I owe the IRS a lot of money," does not have the emotional intensity one actually feels like saying, "I got FUCKED by the IRS."

Fuck also has a root meaning in pleasure. Fuck also means sexual pleasure. Anybody who knows anything knows that Christians hate pleasure much more than killing, raping, murdering, slaughtering, etc. Christians will be more offended by people FUCKING than they would by people KILLING. Pleasure.

Pleasure is good! Fucking is good. We should all be fucking. No...Not raping. No...Not abusing. Fucking. All adults should get a good FUCK in from time to time. Don't you think. So, get out there and have a good fuck. Fuck that! HAVE A GREAT FUCKING DAY!

And don't forget...

FUCK YOU!

I've decided not to ask the woman I was interested in out. The reason being is the time that I've had between the decision and actually seeing her has come and gone and I've filled that sucker with a whole lot of self-hatred stuff. I am just not ready. I can't do this right now.

I guess it would be easier if somebody asked me out. That would show an actual interest in getting to know me better that I couldn't honestly say no. However, since it has happened zero times in my first 42 years of life, added with the social norm of women not being the ones to ask the man out, I'd have to say the likelyhood of me being asked out in my next 42 years will be pretty damned close to zero as well. Damned natural desires to be with a companion.

I also know that Lover-Love works out for many people, whether temporary, part-time, full-time, lifetime...I know it works for many people and I send many blessings their way for they are examples to future generations of how it should be done. I'm content to be a shy wall-flower who claps and laughs at those who enjoy the life dance. That's not to say I don't live my life, either.

I have a great life. I'm on the airwaves a coupletimes a month. I have a voice. I work toward change for the better in this world.

Check this out. Yesterday, a redneck peckerwood and I crossed paths. This guy was close to frothing at the mouth. He saw my Che hat and shirt as I walked along the pathway of Waterfront Park. He said softly as he passed by, "si senor," but in a tone that was calling me to fight. I was unafraid, and should it have come to it, I would have fought. I'm brave enough to do that. I'm brave enough to stand in front of a live and on air audience and speak my mind. I'm brave enough to dance on the roof of a parking garage and celebrate life. I'm NOT brave enough to ask a woman out or face the potentials of Lover-Love.

I Love to dance, but at social dances I'll sit against the wall and do my best to be anonymous. Still, I'll enjoy watching all the good energy going out in the world, but won't participate unless invited and will do my best to keep from being invited by being anonymous.

Yeah...I'm a real brave mother-fucker, alright. I'm willing to look death in the eye and give it the finger. I'm not so willing to look Love in the eye, especially after having been beaten so badly by the stuff.

So, there you go...LET'S START A REVOLUTION!

Che and I have a lot in common. We Love the people. We want Revolution. We Love children. We both smoke cigars. Still, however, I am a much better dancer, and a much worse organizer.

More than anything, I want to change the world. I don't care if I'm remembered in history. I don't care if I never fall in Love again. I don't care if I live another day. I want it all to change. Everything. I want it all done correctly. No more of those stupid bullshit excuses: "It's always been that way." "You can never completely end war." BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! Don't give me that bull-fucking-shit! Are you saying it is OK for the future generations to continue senseless and horrific slaughter of innocents and guilties alike? BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! That's like saying: "I can't stop beating my kids. Abuse is all they've every known. You can't expect their system to do well without me beating the fuck out of them. I mean, you don't want to shock their system. Maybe I won't beat them as hard the next time. We'll wean them off the beatings. Yeah! That's what we'll do. Not being abusive could be just as abusive and abuse itself." BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! Stop it. Stop it now. I won't let you wean yourself off of war. I wan't you to completely fucking stop it. Period.

Last night I went to a family dance being called by my housemate, Heidi. It's always fun for me to watch these events. It is always a good feeling to help my housemate with these things. She is awesome. Her folk dance troupe is awesome. She tries to change the world through international folk dance. She teaches the children to think outside of themselves through dance. I try to be a wall flower during these things. Heidi, for some reason, doesn't appreciate my shy type of behavior around these types of social occasions, and will bring much attention my way in order to get me out of my chair and joining in the celebration.

On the ride in to KBOO on the 45 bus, a young woman came up to me and introduced herself. "Aren't you a KBOO volunteer?" she asked. "Yes," I said. Turns out she does some of the BOO calendar and works on the news. Her name is Latoya, and she is also learning to be a reporter. She is in a bicycle mechanics program and is going to be doing reporting on bike stuff around Portland. Suddenly, I know the Revolution is a real possibility.

We're everywhere...and yes...we are coming for you children...BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

It's a beautiful sunny day, and I have in my possession a cigar that was created in 1990. It will be smoked, probably along the Eastside walkway soon.

She can have long conversations
with people
who will forget her
the next time they see her.

She jokingly tells me
she is convinced she is dead
and only I am able to see her,
a disenfranchised
Cherokee pale face
wandering the earth
in search of her people.
The Revolutionary Indian
and his deceased/invisible
white woman friend
who is part Cherokee.
Sounds like a TV sitcom.

A friend took our photo together
and I told her
that the FBI would only put a copy
in my file
because they wouldn't see her
in the picture.

A fellow Indian
described her in a poem
like she was a porn star
born only to attempt
to get his Indian dick.
But when the story is told
he really wanted to fuck
a white woman
who refused his constant advances.
He wanted revenge
on the white woman
who refused his advances
because she had dignity
which he wanted to steal
like white men stole our land.

She is my friend
who jokingly calls herself
my "Tonto."
My sidekick.
She is my friend.

2.

It is a joy to be with her
laugh and go on adventures
talk about Revolution, Love, and Life.

She is looking for something.
Maybe something she lost.
Maybe something she never had.
Maybe something that was stolen
long before she was born,
and she will find it...
I can tell.

3.

I dance on the wet roof
of the parking garage
and ask her what she would say
to the top of a tree
since we can look eye to branch
with one
just over the concrete barrier
some seven stories up.
She's not comfortable with heights
and only glances
and sends her greetings
to the easily recognized
life form.

4.

She is full of life
and becoming a warrior
for women's rights.
"Becoming" is the wrong word.
For she is just carrying her warriorness
to the airwaves.
And I get to watch this new flower
start to blossom
in the garden of her life.

I am so happy
she and I
are friends.

I know my friends hate hearing me be self-depricating. It is easy for me, and there are reasons for that. But, since I am so good at it, I decided to talk about it here.

1.

It's easy as being raped when you're five
to hate myself.
It's as easy
as living with an alcoholic father
dying a slow death
and hating himself
for being married to a woman who hated him.
It was so easy to hate myself
like it was for my mother
to barely recognize my existence.
She wanted a boy so bad
maybe in some false belief
that I could somehow save her world.
But when my penis did become a magic wand
and save her world
I guess I just wasn't worth
the consideration.
Just an inconvenience
like the alcoholic Indian husband
she stayed with
for the kids...
because we still needed to be punished.

Yep, hating myself
can at times
be as easy as it was
to get raped when I was five.

2.

When I think of asking a woman out,
I attempt to self-depricate.
I know when I'm doing it,
and honestly,
writing about it like this
is actually helping me let it go.

But it is so easy for me to hate myself!
My first wife so hated my body
as to call me ugly,
as to describe my body to me
like it was the most vile thing
she had ever witnessed.

After 8 years of that,
5 and a half years of another wife
who hated the rest of me
and told me so on a regular basis.

Upon leaving both of these women,
they both wanted me back.
Maybe they thought
I hadn't been punished enough,
but I love myself enough
to know that I was done being punished.

3.

When I brush my teeth
I have to look at myself in the mirror.
It is not an easy task for me
considering the treatment I've faced
thus far in my life.
"I HATE YOU!"
rings in my ears.
"You're ugly!"
does as well.
And everytime I brush my teeth
I have to look at the hated ugly one

4.

Being an Indian
doesn't help either.
The stereotypes blasted in the media.
The occupation of my land
the destruction of my land
not being able to do anything
about this crazy monster
that is fucking my land,
raping my land
like a priest.

5.

But I love myself, too.
I love to write.
I love to sing on the bus
and confuse the fuck out of the people
around me.
I love to skip down the road
just for the fuck of it.
I love to pray to my sister
the Willamette River
everytime I cross the Burnside Bridge.

I Love my friends,
and my friends Love me.
They Love me so much
as to treat me better
than any wife or Lover I've ever had.
We hang out,
laugh, joke, talk politics, life, Love...
We share our humanity.
My friends don't call me ugly.
My friends don't tell me they hate me.
I Love my friends,
and they Love me.

I Love the work I do on the radio
and television.
I Love telling everyone
I know how mean the fucking monster is.
I'm a product of its slaughter tactics,
and I'm still alive
and I still want it all back.

I Love the Revolutionary in me
because I Love the generations yet to come...
all of those
I will never know
other than as a soft wind
caressing their spirits
and thanking them
for being alive.

I Love sex,
though I'm not having any.
I know sex is good!
I know many people
are having good sex
and regenerating
all those wonderful feelings in life.

I Love celebration.
I Love to dance.
I Love to make a fool of myself.
I Love to talk with strangers
and discuss Revolution.

I Love teepee meetings,
sweats and sundances.
I Love a good joke.
I Love stories.
I Love poetry.
I Love learning.

6.

Currently,
I'm not in Love.
Much of the time
I'm scared because
Love to me has been
being told I'm ugly
being told I'm hated.
Like an idiot,
I thought pumping more Love
into the situation
and doing more things
for the women I was in Love with
would help.
But it didn't.
It never does.
I Loved myself enough
to leave them...
I don't Love myself enough
to try again.
The idea of waking up
next to a woman
who I know is gonna call me ugly
or tell me she hates me
isn't exactly on the top of my
"things to do" list.
So when I think of dating,
it is much easier
to hate myself
so a woman I may fall in love with
doesn't have to
and I can still do the things I need to do
without having to try and put
more and more Love into a situation
that is just not going to improve.

At the same time,
spirit has taken it upon themselves
to show me how Love
is actually supposed to feel,
supposed to be.
They suprised me at a teepee meeting.
But knowing is not doing.
Being alone
is so much safer
than falling in Love
and getting treated like shit.

I wake up in the morning
and I don't think of the insults or yelling
I'll have to face
throughout the day
by the woman
who alleges to Love me
most in the world.

I know these views of life
are not written in stone.
I know people have great relationships
where abuse doesn't happen.
I know Love can be the most beautiful thing in the world
and bring many fulfilling challenges
and journeys and gifts.
But it hasn't been that way for me
and I'm scared it won't be that way
no matter who I may fall in love with.

A friend once told me
she couldn't see a woman
treating me like shit.
She could only see a woman
doing whatever was necessary
to make me happy
and to keep me interested
in her.
I, however, can only see
a woman hating me
and calling me ugly.

Maybe things will change,
or maybe I'll live the rest of my life
alone
struggling for Revolution.
Only time will tell.

OK folks, we need to talk about a serious subject. It isn't one we have really sat down and discussed before, and no it can't wait. 513 years is a long wait. You didn't wait to... Well, we need to talk about a serious subject, and we need to talk about it now! That subject, my friends is...

...genocide...

...well...

YOU MISSED ME YOU MISSED ME NOW YOU GOTTA KISS ME!
NANNY NANNY NANNY GOATS!

YOU MISSED ME!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

YOU MISSED ME!

WOO-HOO!!!!

Damn, that was close, too.

hahahahahaha....

In fact,

YOU MISSED A WHOLE BUCH OF US!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

You guys just don't know how to finish a job!

THANK THE GODESSES AND GODS!

Man...

That was close.

Now...

KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF!

more later, REVOLUTION NOW!

I've been getting depressed lately.

I've been attempting to start an Native American Communications Collective to no avail. I'm not getting any responses, not even FUCK YOU's! It's a void. However, talking with my friend who came up with the idea, she told me an astrologer friend of hers said there is a lot of shit happening in the stars and to keep on trying, as frustrating as it gets.

I've also decided to ask a woman out. However, I won't be seeing her again until Monday, which gives me plenty of time to try to talk myself out of it and to treat myself like shit, just like my ex-wives did.

Alito is confirmed. Bush is a piece of shit.

I'm out of pot.

Tuesday night, I slipped and broke my ass and bruised my hand on the walk home from the bus. It was the first time I actually cried when I got physically hurt in probably 30 years.

Yesterday, I found out 15 minutes before I left work that I wouldn't be doing my radio show because the other driver wasn't going to be at work today.

Then I got home on Wednesday to be greeted by my roommate, the one I can't stand, who immediately starts talking shit about my friend and housemate, Heidi. Heidi is a goddess and everytime Judy and I are alone she starts talking shit about my friend. Then she complains about the conditions of living in the house. Why she doesn't fucking move, I just don't know. So coming home into my space which I share with her and two other humans, and having to hear shit about my friend and the house and the animals, just sent me over the edge.

I had purchased a bottle of Myers Rum and a bottle of Arrogant Bastard Beer (you are not worthy). I smoked three bowls of leaf, drank at least a quarter of the fifth of rum, drank all of the Arrogant Bastard, ate a bunch of food (as depressed as I was, I was hoping to puke), and finished watching the rest of "The Fog of War." I was hoping to be drunk and belligerent and to puke all over my room. Insead...I turned out all the lights, turned off the TV, lit a candle, and prayed for about an hour or so.

I woke up late, and hung over, and barely made it to work on time. Though hung over, I definitely feel better than I did emotionally last night.

Gotta go!

Alito has been confirmed. Bush made it clear that wealthy white men are the people we should be worshipping and if we don't...he will make us suffer...fuck it...he'll make us suffer anyway.

“Human life is a gift from our Creator.” Anus Lips actually said that. The man with so much blood on his hands and soul... Of course, he meant fetus', not actually living already breathing on this earth independently of our mothers human beings. Just fetus'.

REVOLUTION NOW!