Writings: To all my big moony mazzers and radial heads...
To all my big moony mazzers and radial heads, to my Angels and their angst and to the Vampires and their transvision vamps…
A great album to get your hands on and your ears glued to, is Maestro Quincy Jones' 'Walking in Space'. It combines elements of post Miles cool, brother Jack Mc Duff funk and trip-hop years before Portishead discovered the pothead and echo chamber. This late '60s meisterwerk is essential for any Jazz, soul or ambient collection. For a real head-bender, do a mix tape alternating the songs of this work with the songs of Pink Floyd's 'Wish you were here'. All you need now is the purple beer.
One of my favourite anecdotes concerning Maestro Miles of the Davis clan was when he asked the great genius John Coltrane why he felt it imperative to always take such long solos. The master JC responded that the spirit got into him and he couldn't stop. To which the elder maestro replied: "next time, try taking the horn out of your goddamned mouth".
The Maestro was also enthusiastic about the work of the Maestro Prince. He once asked me what I thought of a particular piece of music presented by the Napoleon of Rock, I replied affirmatively, to which Miles said "Yeah, but where is the bass?". It took a while before I realized that he was as well making a pun concerning a fast food commercial that wound up as well being used by the democrats in their hapless '88 presidential campaign. The one which asked "yeah but where is the beef?". The grand-Master was impressed that the young Maestro could be that bold and funky without the bass guitar. I shared his evaluation.
While time is still available, see the Maestro Dylan even if he is just drunk and on your street corner banging on a light pole. Seldom have our prophets been so fuckin' cool. Moses got the Red Sea, Prophet Bob got a black eye and a cross wire. There are waves in Zanzibar still breaking his lyrics and vastly underrated melodies down into grains of sand.
While we stumble over ourselves to proclaim the master a great poet, those words were married to some of the greatest melodies ever devised for the benefit of head cleaning.
One of my most cherished possessions in literary form, superseded only by the Bhagavad-Gita, Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" and some portions of the Bible, is Bob Dylan lyrics 1962-1985. I got it in 1987 in text book form. I've only opened it less than a dozen times, so as not to crib from it consciously. Sometimes its enough to know that I posses his footnotes to the new testament. Only the other great prophet Bob (Marley) can approach his union of the holy spirit and some wild and crazy smoke.
The democrats in America haven't had any new and sexy ideas since Kennedy. They will not win the mid terms as much as the republicans will lose it under the weight of their corruption and disdain for the middle class. They all now are like Mrs Clinton, who has no bold thoughts or opinions that haven't already been test marketed, screened and bled of any possible offence. Every one wants to change the world but just as long as it doesn't offend a potential voter, or require any real tangible effort. Since they are now pretty much indistinguishable from the Hollywood actors who are kept in line for fear of their Q-rating falling, why don't we just replace Madame Hillary with Julia Roberts since every one saw how convincing she was as Erin Brockovich. I say, let's send Erin Brockovich to Washington. She certainly didn't mind breaking a few eggs in pursuit of her omelette. In essence, these corporate politicians have joined the ranks of the corporate actors and corporate musicians. Mind my latin, but they all corpus suckus, and are helping dull minded and slow witted thieves steal all of the fibre and pulp from our great and world influential culture, in fact they are helping to make mindless, soulless slaves of the very populations which unwittingly pay them handsomely for the priviledge.
Community service is remembering that someone else has to party even harder for those who can't.
It is much easier to sneer at what you haven't earned.
Only by doing it your way and sweating it your way, can you have it your way it, there is no other way.
When I first came to public attention I was with a company of my dreams called CBS. CBS/Columbia was the company of the great and legendary talent scout John Hammond. It was the label of Dylan, Billie Holiday, Johnny Cash, Bruce Springsteen and Earth Wind and Fire. It had a legacy which I wished to be a part of. After my first project, the company was bought and swallowed whole by the Sony corporation who in contrast to the relatively liberal leanings of Columbia were about as right wing as John Wayne's wing tips. From that point all prominent black or relatively liberal voices were systematically silenced. Some even brutally so. Artists such as Tracy Chapman, Ben Harper, Lenny Kravitz or Prince could have never survived Sony's intrinsically conservative world view, where women artists have big titties and the African American artists know their place (on the other side of carefully prescribed beats). Myself, Living Colour (Vernon Reid's visionary band) and Public Enemy all saw our fortunes challenged and southern fried. Coincidence? You choose.
I would like to thank from my heart the only ally that my last incarnation had in America: Walter Yetnikoff. He was the head of Columbia in America and worldwide before the right wing coup that undermined and replaced him with a man who once bragged to a major international publication that they preferred as policy promoting artists with absolutely nothing to say and who are dependent creations of their production line.
I would love to play for the US troops and rock them jarheads! But with this current administration and its nervous disposition about free men using their rights, that is about as likely to happen as seeing a drunken nun in a strip joint or seeing a reggae band playing at a KKK rally.
Johnny Cash, a man's man, was the yin John Wayne.
In my experience, being hated by evil is nowhere near as difficult as being loved by it.
Be good to your mind and feed it. We actually wake up into our minds when we die. And we remain in its space until the Angels come and get us. Though usually not until after we have spent some time realizing that the hell of our creations begin and end in our mind. The film 'What dreams may come' starring the great Robin Williams suggests as much.
The good news is that there are people that you will never see in heaven simply because their idea of heaven is different than yours. As for me, you can keep that mild docile saintly version of heaven, with the saint Peter's and other Bartholomew's. I am going to the heaven with Jim Morrison, Hendrix and the Angel Hell raisers. The heaven where they have the finest beer and the finest blue herb. And where the clouds are produced from the silver exhaust pipe of that giant motorcycle in the sky. Saint Peter is the gate keeper of the Christian Heaven. Where I am aiming my soul, you gotta get past Saint Marley.
It's not how many scars the warrior has, it's that they can still count them that matters.
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:
When our inner Paris and Nicole gets back together, the whole world will be healed. In fact Paris and Nicole are the keys to peace in our time. It is incumbent upon we the people and the US state department, to not let the negative drudorfians get their six fingered hands on either or the fate of our galaxy and its shopping values hang in the balance.
…but while they are quarrelling, is it too much to ask them to simply televise a mud wrestling event, nude and settle the matter joyfully (for us viewers) once and for all?
Can we also suspend all televised political debates by candidates and go straight to congressional mud wrestling and other fear factor type contests? Wouldn't you much rather see Senator John McCain jumping from a helicopter on to a pile of boxes in the middle of the ocean and then have to break out a couple of cans of whoop ass and grab the flag while humming the national anthem, wouldn't it have been better for Senator Al Gore to have demonstrated his commitment to the environment by being sent to a deserted island with but a machete and two coconuts and survive until formulating a cohesive plan understood by most reality TV viewers? Do I really care about Mrs. Clinton's positions? Not really, since getting my own job, but I would love to see the state's woman and the genius Ms. Rice grab and pull each other's hair while wearing appropriate pumps, and make the other swallow beach sand. Anderson Cooper and Ann Coulter can mediate this contest called: Who wants to be president?
Your father is so silly he thought that a thespian* was a lesbian with a lisp.
*a thespian is an actor.
Bill Hicks was an American prophet, google him and check out his works. All of them are worth your time. The first thing Richard Pryor did when he got to his version of heaven was to look for Bill to make sure that he was in the right place.
Many people like to assume the spiritual platitude that "WE ARE ALL ONE". And this is true for as long as we are a part of the herd and its mentality. Once we step away from the herd a new Grace arrives and we are all ourselves. One, but not one at the same time. One, but this particular one at the same time. We are all one it would appear until it is time for someone to climb up on a cross and be crucified. You then notice how quickly the ranks thin and how alone your feet are left to dangle and sweat and how quickly WE ARE ALL ONE changes into one drunk homeless guy standing at the foot of the cross saying : "you da man!".
We are all one until it is time to die. And then we are all many mofos looking for the exit.
All races come through me like all rivers flow out into the Nile. All of you from the palest to the darkest are my blood.
Keeping close to irony helps to sort out the wrinkles in the mind.
Keep sage in your home for wisdom and clarity, it clears the mind and spirit and the environment in which it rests. It is a tool of mercury the fleet footed healer. The burning bush that spoke to Moses was a sage bush. (if it wasn't the other sacred herb)
I spent the first half of my military service as an exemplary soldier and the next half as Gomer Pyle. Both sides of the adventure taught me greatly and as the years count of, I am grateful and proud to have served. Few men look back on their time serving their country and regret it. For most boys being a soldier is a dream come true.
I have a soft spot for warriors. I trust them more than non warriors because a warrior of any stripe respects a warrior of another. We have all worn the scars and stripes and held our place within its ranks. And we are all grateful for the discipline and training for the rugged life had.
Please pardon what would have otherwise been an empty space.
Elvis Costello has been a God to me since seeing him at the age of 15 (my age, unlikely his) on Saturday Night Live. I was blown away that evening. His 'Get Happy' project is one of the greatest group of songs ever committed to vinyl. It contains one of my all-time favorite Elvis lines from the song 'opportunity': "the chairman of the party was a compliment collector, I'd like to be his funeral director". Check out his works if you are even remotely serious about song craft!
Every black sheep serves its purpose. It is usually upon them that the family karma falls hardest. Upon them that the family and ancestral Lord asks to carry the heaviest sack.
Just as the suppressed desires of one generation become the primal urge of the next, the family's neuroses will usually fall upon the one whose innocence cannot hide its truth. The more of the truth they embody, the farther they will usually be pushed away. This is the cause of the black sheep, who carry the family cross and are usually beaten most by the families they have been sent to serve and clear.
There are angels who would never even breathe softly around a butterfly unless it disturbed its winged motion. There are also angels who would with great relish rip into a Bulls ass like it was the last meal to be found on heaven or earth. Be yourself as you feel yourself, go to what calls you. Every well intentioned ideology, unquestioned becomes more dogma. Man was not created to serve philosophy, philosophies exists to serve Man. Serve nothing that does not flatter you fully or you are serving a prison cell you are preparing to walk into. To have no mind at all is far better than to have someone else's.
Having no mind at all has never kept a soul out of Heaven. Arriving full of someone else's mind has.
Just as Heaven did not make two snowflakes or fingerprints alike, so there is no general light. Each thing shines in its own unique way, compatible with some and incompatible with others. Light is the last substance in the universe which can be convinced into an ugly and unproductive shape.
Alzheimer's is often God's gift to his warrior angels for all that they have seen and been asked to bear. The point is not to cure it but to relax it. Marijuana is also helpful to its cause. This allows the service Angels to arrive back in heaven with no mind and a more settled spirit.
Is there not a connection between Alzheimer's in the West and the Zen no mind in the East? Is not often Alzheimer's earned? Wouldn't you too like to at some point forget the names of your enemies and hostile family members?
Lead levels present in some products we ingest do not make Alzheimer's easier. Yet neither does it make Alzheimer's, it just doesn't help it. Anyhow aluminum is not bigger than the will of Heaven and Alzheimer's is often Heaven's mercy upon the traumas the mind may have incurred during its meditation, and its service to the will of man. Man's will is important to Creator or these fields would not exist to accommodate them.
The most important aftercare approach towards an Alzheimer's meditator is to chill out and stop placing pressures upon them to remember bunches of crap they no longer need to bear. Instead, help them let go. Roll them a spliff, they won't remember whether or not they were previously for or against it, or whether they even smoked before. Break out those fine cigars and pour them a nice stiff bit of their ancestry into a glass. Who cares if they can remember Aunt Bee or not, they are working with Zen mind now, Angel mind and even your sins are being downloaded onto the hard disk called mercy.
The pharmaceutical industry has within itself the capacity to be really really useful as opposed to just really really rich. Give the people what they want and everybody wins. Keep doping us and our children with bullshit and at some point even consciousness itself begins to rebel and intervene, which ain't too good for profits.
Prosperity is a virtue and is to be valued like the other virtues, which well tended usually leads to prosperity. To a healthy spirit, prosperity is the law.
Progress does not only come through pain and denial but also through prosperity, which speaks well of progress as well as pride.
Holding attitudes against prosperity keeps you at a distance from it. It is counter-evolutionary to not desire it. And only an angry mind refuses it, and the spiritual mind looking for justification to remain in spiritual poverty. Justifications which Dogma serves to hold in place.
Marlon Brando was the Miles Davis of film.
In the final analysis we are all responsible for war. Our inner conflicts and judgments incubating, our self hostility increasing until it spills out into war. This is why meditation is powerful enough to stop war. Decrease the war within and the corresponding soldiers fade back into the communities they are missed in.
Because we live and even encourage the living of two faces, eventually those two faces square off to fight. If the face that lies becomes more powerful than the face that loves, sorrow wins. This discerns for us whether the greater truth lies in the peace that the one face preaches or the war that the other demands.
The next call to arms is not the raising of weapons but of consciousness.
To be self-possessed is the only possession that matters.
Great angels are able to write their own karma. Master Martin Luther King called his assassination upon himself as a way to balance the burden he carried in his mind, an anguished pain which held him responsible emotionally for the deaths of those four angels in Birmingham, the little girls. Of course he didn't kill them yet held himself spiritually responsible and felt that he owed it to them to offer his life, to both balance his sense of his own karma, as well as to give the movement the Christ figure all great movements need.
… how he held himself together after the Birmingham sacrifice in order to still move time forward and closer to the will of heaven is the great miracle of his life. That he died was no big deal, at least 12 other brothers died that day, 12 more will die tomorrow. The big deal was that despite his unquenchable burden, he still took an oppressed and vilified people and like Moses lifted them onto his back and carried them over the River Jordan.
It's good luck when a baby smiles that you. If they don't, maybe it's just your cologne.
We carry the world map within our bodies magnetically, so yes Virginia, a sneeze does affect the breeze.
… and you don't even want to know what a fart effects in Columbia!
I could give a flying four letter word if Lance Armstrong, our great and immortal champion, a world record holder and a man who beat an angel of death from his aura, did or did not. He certainly did nothing that the other cry babies who over the course of seven years still could not manage to beat him, themselves did. The man managed to survive cancer and dating a songwriter. What might've helped him create his miracle, his testimony is simply not our business. We ask these questions of amateurs and boys, not of professionals creating legends, myths and much bigger ratings.
After a lifetime yet of battles, I feel my old soldiers all the more as I too try to sustain the light God gave me to carry into the world. It is expected that we will be tackled in pursuit of our goal. We are only asked not to fumble the ball.
We sure treated Barry Bonds differently when he, McGwire and Sosa lifted the tired old game by its stiches on to their collective backs and carried it back into the hearts of the American people, and back into the sponsors good graces.
Who we should start drug testing are the journalists and the owners, clearing their medicine cabinets would send Pfizer out of business overnight.
As the players got bigger, so too we noticed did the ratings, revenues and stadiums. Lots of stadiums got built for baseball during its steroid spring. So why now the turn on the players? Terrible management and ungrateful ownership. You never expose your assets, your butt bringers to such a ragged throw them to the Lions treatment. We are the world's most medicated society ever, including our children and we have the balls to throw stones at Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi for entertaining and inspiring us according to the maximum levels and the sacrifices they are willing to make to serve the game, as well as serve their wallets while they have a chance. You mean to tell me as an American that you do not know anyone including yourself willing to drop a pill or two to increase their earning capacity in the few years that they are given the chance? These are not Supreme Court justices, simply our supreme athletes giving us a chance to marvel at the supreme. Not to mention that with or without steroids these men still worked their butts off to get to where they are and to stay there.
All Maitreya's, in all times and places and through all incarnations are rascals.
The best of luck to the new project of the Dixie Chicks. Despite the obviousness of their feminine charm, they've got bigger balls than most of the male artists in either rap country or rock and the porridge that passeth for people pleasing pop.
No hero ever created a myth, that they didn't themselves believe.
Ps if you are going to crib from my works, have the courtesy to namecheck a bro, it's good karma.
COPYRIGHT SANANDA MAITREYA
MILANO 1st JUNE 2006
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
INTELLECTUAL COPYRIGHT PROTECTED