Ablogalypse Now

more lyrical longings....

Pearls and swine bereft of me
Long and weary my road has been
I was lost in the cities
Alone in the hills
No sorrow or pity for leaving I feel

I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
Friends and liars don't wait for me
I'll get on all by myself
I put millions of miles
Under my heels
And still too close to you
I feel

I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightning
I am not your autumn moon
I am the night

- Audioslave, "I Am The Highway"

connections, lost in translation

unless you happen to be a one-dimensional automaton with no distinctive personality to speak of, or someone so afraid of being alone that you will suffer anyone or anything just to be in anything even vaguely resembling a relationship, dating people you meet on the internet is a complete and utter waste of time. the internet may be good for a lot of things, but no matter what that shriveled, prune-munching goon from e-harmony tells you, the web is not an ideal venue to meet people. because there's just no way technology can take the place of millions of years of evolution. human beings are animals, not an assemblage of abstract traits and affinities you can quantify and capture on a computer screen. and the bottom line in any potential human equation is that it just doesn't fucking matter how much you connect with someone and how closely your likes and dislikes happen to match. none of that crap makes a damn bit of difference once you're face to face with someone. a thumbnail picture on a profile simply can't capture all the little things that attraction hinges upon. how a person walks, talks, laughs, smells and tastes is every bit as important as their perspicacity, religious preference, level of education, and sense of humor. yes, sports fans - i'm talking about good, old-fashioned physical attraction in all its crude pheremonal glory. it's either there, or it isn't. and it's been my experience that whatever connection you managed to forge with someone online quickly turns to dust once you meet that person in the flesh. and it's one of the worst kinds of awkward to have to backtrack and nip something that seemed promising squarely in the bud due to a complete lack of physical chemistry. it would be nice if we were more evolved than that, and maybe someday we will be if we don't kill ourselves before then. but for all intents and purposes, we're barely out of the fucking cave, and the laws of the cave still reign supreme, whether we like it or not.

my first all souls procession

i stood in front of the surly wench on 4th avenue and stepped through a portal into another world. a massive horned figure led the way, pulling a huge urn on wheels ringed by a group of whirling belly dancers who moved to the steadily pounding beat of tribal drums...and behind this for as far as the eye could see, was a seething throng of dancers, drummers, and performance artists of all kinds...children and adults alike with their faces painted in skeletal black and white patterns, most wearing elaborate costumes and holding placards adorned with names and pictures of dead loved ones, human and animal alike...there was a huge papier mache' dog on wheels, and all manner of massive puppetry, some with big heads, some small, some with just one person, or the crazy spider-skeleton that had at least a dozen people working all the legs and body parts...burning incense and sage, a veritable parade of every kind of freak imaginable filled the streets...it was like watching a cirque de soleil version of mardi gras conceived by jose posada...my flesh tingled and i wept at the sheer beauty of it, and the feeling of one-ness with it all...my words don't do it justice, some things just have to be experienced to be fully understood...i followed the procession along 4th avenue and made my way to the franklin docks near the raillroad tracks and waited...here they had set up a couple of huge metal statues, one of which belched fire...there were 2 screens that played a looping powerpoint slideshow of departed loved ones...eerie tibetan chants filled the air as the pictures played over and over again, some new, some very old...and i wept again as i thought of my grandfather, my father, my cousin george, my uncle joe...of past losses, and of those to come...the terrible finite beauty of our fragile existence...a huge skeletal doll hung suspended in the air, tethered to a bunch of huge balloons, it showered us with a mixture of ash (mashed potato flakes) and glitter...more music, more dancing, more drums, more people, more puppets, people on stilts and flam chen's amazing fire dancers....all of us waiting, until it finally got there...the urn at the front of the procession finally entered the staging area...it was packed, there was nowhere to go...we just stood there and watched as the procession made its way across the stage...people then wrote their prayers to the dead on pieces of paper that were collected and placed in the urn....more waiting....more ash and glitter raining down from above...but wait, suddenly the airborne doll-skeleton split open to reveal a woman in a white leotard and body paint emerging from it like a butterfly from a cocoon, life from death, the cycle of rebirth...she hung suspended in the air, spinning madly around and around and around....flares and torches were lit and the gold and red-clad devil figure dragged the urn up the ramp and across the stage as the dancers whirled and the drums punded and the last of the prayers for the dead were placed in the urn...more pounding drums, more tension and anticipation, more smoke and fire....the primal sense of an impending sacrificial offering of some sort...but what? ....the urn was finally hoisted to the top of a platform about 20 feet off the ground....clad in their weird gas masks, flam chen contined their fire dance...then the devil lit the fuse at the base of the tower and it slowly crept upward before igniting the prayer-filled urn and sending the pain and love and hope of the living skyward in a huge cloud of smoke and flame...this was the offering made to the dead....one collective voice raised to the heavens to say, "we live. we remember. we love. and you are not forgotten."

with the exception of the 3 years i spent in the army, i've lived in tucson for the past 20 years. that said, i'm truly ashamed to admit that i'd never been to an all souls procession before. and now that i've been to one, i'm going to make it a point to never miss another for as long as i continue to call this city my home.

there are several pages of great stills here, a cool slideshow here, and some okay video clips here, here, here (never mind the jesus freak spouting gibberish through a bullhorn), here, and here...but again, there is simply no substitute for being there.

contemplating future regrets

as loss so often tends to do, my grandfather's recent passing has sparked a whirlwind of self-reflection about choices i've made and the direction my life has taken as a result of those choices. seeing him there, in his bed, drawing his last breaths as his lungs slowly filled with fluid, surrounded by his wife and children. i never thought i'd feel this way, but i've started to feel pangs of pre-emptive regret, for i know in my bones that, whatever the future may hold for me, once the great scorer yanks me off the playing field of life, i will most likely not be going out like that. even if i am lucky enough to squeeze out another 43 years of life given my genetic pedigree, i will, in all likelihood, not have any kids or grandkids, and will either die cold and alone out on the streets, or in some anonymous hospital bed, surrounded by strangers. these thoughts have produced an unexpected measure of sadness over what might have been if i'd only chosen differently. but all one can do is all one can do. life happens, you make your choices, roll the dice, let the chips fall where they may and live with the consequences one way or the other. any kind of regret is a shitty burden to bear, and despite our best efforts, each of us will take to our grave some kind of regret or another over what might have been had we only chosen differently at different points in our lives. so what would be worse? to live 84 years and regret not having started and nurtured a family, or to have lived that long and never done anything more than what was expected of you by your elders, your peers, your culture, and society in general?

sweetness follows

Readying to bury your father and your mother,
what did you think when you lost another?
I used to wonder why did you bother,
distanced from one, blind to the other?

Listen here my sister and my brother
what would you care if you lost the other?
I always wonder why did we bother,
distanced from one, deaf to the other.

Oh, oh, but sweetness follows

It's these little things, they can pull you under.
Live your life filled with joy and wonder.
I always knew this altogether thunder
was lost in our little lives.

Oh, oh, but sweetness follows.
Oh, oh, but sweetness follows.

It's these little things, they can pull you under.
Live your life filled with joy and thunder.
Yeah, yeah we were altogether
lost in our little lives.

Oh. Oh. Ah.

Oh, oh, but sweetness follows.
Oh, oh, but sweetness follows.

- by R.E.M.

Farewell to a Cowboy

as we all tend to do
i thought i had more time
but by the time i got there
he had been gone for three days

a distant ship on the horizon
a lone horseman at the great divide
hovering in that place
between
the known and unknown
heart still beating
lungs still drawing breath
faintly, ever so faintly

hoping that some measure
of awareness
too sublime to be seen
still endured within his
tired and broken body
i leaned close
and whispered in his ear
i thanked him for
his gifts of wisdom
asked forgiveness
for hopes betrayed
and then said goodbye
to the man who stood tall
as a father to me
and my father before me
the man whose name i bear

my grandfather -
a man i will sorely miss

-------------------------

David Villarreal, Sr. [1923-2007]

breaking the spell of technology

for entirely too fucking long now i've allowed myself to be enslaved by this machine. this box that's rapidly becoming every bit as idiotic as the television set. how many hours have i spent surfing waves of electronic absurdity? how much of my life have i wasted filling my head with useless information? who was it that said that computers would set us free? how the average citizen would be able to access more information in a year than many people saw in a lifetime? i have to laugh whenever i hear someone say that. especially now that the techno-priests have finally and forever moved the computer from a desk at home, right into the palm of our hands. and i see them every day, walking, driving, people bound by their cell phones and caught in a non-stop series of phone calls and text messages. whatever happened to zoning out? it's like people are afraid to have a dialogue with themselves, to disconnect and experience life without the need for a digital umbilical cord. that's why i still don't own a cell phone. because i'm afraid of becoming one of them - one of the phone-crazies. it's been hard enough trying to wean myself off this goddamned thing on my desk. i used to think it was some sort of an oracle, and would leave it on all day and all night, but not any more. i used to plant myself in front of it as soon as i woke up in the morning. click, click click - another plane crash that killed hundreds - click, click click - another spoiled pop star has entered rehab - click, click click - george w. bush is still fucking the nation up the ass - click, click click - the polar ice caps are melting and there ain't a fucking thing anyone can do to stop it - click, click click - a new study has shown that internet addiction is far worse than anybody realizes...fuck this, i had a real life before these fucking things came along and somehow, some way - i'm taking my mind back before it's too late...

cold comfort for change...

where is the road? the one that leads beyond today, beyond the stifling monotony of daily banality and back to the realm of possibilities. i scan the horizon with weary eyes and see nothing but an endless procession of days no different than countless others that have come and gone. without gods. without drugs. maps burned and compass broken. adrift under a sunless sky without a breeze to fill my ragged sails. how long can this thin charade go on? when you throw away the scripts prescribed by god, country and family, all that's left is improvisation, and that will only get you so far - sooner or later you have to create a new illusion to take the place of the ones you shattered and cast aside. and that's the rub. how to live with dignity in an age of absurdity? how to find a destination that is truly mine? how to find a path with heart in such heartless, hollow times?

nowhere, again....

for awhile now, i've told friends and family that i was happy here. and for awhile even i believed it. but once again, like so many times before, i find myself in an existential cul-de-sac from which there seems to be no escape. too many late nights. too many details to think about and orchestrate. the countless subtle humiliations of the service worker. every night some new frustration that seems to confirm that i don't belong here. but if not here, then where? the full deck that once seemed so full of possibility has dwindled to a couple of cards that don't add up to much. again, as always, nagging questions that dog me from sunup to sundown. what am i doing here? how the fuck did i get here? forever exiled from the white collar world. too physically and mentally broken and burned out for the blue collar world. following my bliss has led me fucking nowhere. without gods, drugs or maps...what to do? which way to go? are there any options left?

Bonus radio show tomorrow morning!!!

I'll be hosting my usual 2-hour block of Bat Country Radio from 3-5 a.m. [AZ time], and then from 5-6 I'll be behind the mic for another hour as guest host for this week's Wake 'N' Bake.

And as always, you can stream either one, or both shows online by following this link.

And since we are still in our Fall Membership Drive here at Communty Radio 91.3 FM KXCI - Tucson, it'd be reeeaaallly cool if I could top last week's pledge total for the show of $51.00.

So....the gauntlet has been thrown. If you want to make a pledge (no amount is too small) or if you're listening somewhere out there on the Interwebs and just want to give me a yell - just ring (520) 622-5924 - I'd love to hear from you.

Mahalo...

Paleo Dave "Hell yes, I do this for free!" Paiz, Southern Arizona's Only Unfrozen Caveman DJ