best note so far on the Economy

"I feel like a rich bastard since my parents did not keep much money in the stock market, and evidently rich people still see their therapists in a recession"

-anonymous

Christanbul, Living in the land without Santa

In Russia they don't have Santa either, Putin soon after killed this Santa, making him the only one, in the world, or Russia.

Merry Christmas from the none Christmas Zone. Well they have Christmas but it is for the New Years, they have tree's and lights and everything. But today nothing was closed and nothing special marked the day. Its a strange feeling.

Semå

DSCN0644
Originally uploaded by sailingbynight

Here is a video of the Semå in the Dervish dome in Konya. (thats only a half joke)

I wish “What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted” could be a 15 hour mega ballad.

But its not, that’s why I love it so much, it is a perfect song, leaves you just as unfulfilled as being broken hearted.

Taksim

I seem to always end up at this massive intersection. It’s a confluence of sorts sitting atop a hill, a meadow within the large sky scrapers and mega hotels all around. In the early days of Istanbul and Constantinople (insert song joke here), It was a water reservoir; now it is the major epicenter of the youth culture.

Its function as reservoir, collecting and holding the water for Istanbul, all waterlines leaving from this point going all around the city. The same happens today, for people, especially youth. Everyone comes and goes from Taksim square, most of them following the cobble stone, wide boulevard İstiklal down its slight slope, to whatever you need, drinks, food, cloths. Independence avenue as is its translation in English, has never been empty. Always chocked full of people weaving in and out down. Every side street is another universe a different feeling, focus and idea. İstiklal’s 3km from Taksim to Galata can be the fastest and longest walk of your life. Starting from atop Taksim square is always daunting, the sea of people walking in every direction, appears to be a river, the different groups a rapid, Each individual a ripple, all forming the downward tide flowing off the edges in what ever direction.

It is even hard to find a comparison to anything. There has never been a street I’ve encountered that is so reliably packed. So consistently filled to the brim with every kind of person, all of the many subcultures. Everything youthful seems to lead İstiklal’s way. Any type of subculture, mainstream or sits in or off the myriad of streets running along and off of this main artery acting as veins. Each block and street is in itself a great novel of complexity. Taking a left or right turn off İstiklal could lead me in any of directions both that positive and negative.


İstiklal

Every time sitting at the ridge line, Atatürk’s large bronze body leering at us, we try to decided where to go (while trying to make sure to please the great secular leader at the same time, daunting task it really is). The conversation is always something like this, ‘Lets got to the Death Metal bar! Alright take a third left, lets go to the Antichrist club, oh that’s four streets, but keep kin mine they are anarchists they don’t have reliable hours. What about this what about that?’ the decisions are impossible with the group, never finding the right place

The place I always like most is a dark and wood (though I think it is just linoleum) paneled hole in the wall called Astrix (keep in mind, I’m still not clear exactly what it is called, for ever back street of İstiklal sits sometime four to five clubs stacked atop one another, each with its own ridiculous sign, its broken English half Turkish never quite telling you the full story of what exactly the club about).

Any way this so called club Astrix is a Turkish bar, its always filled with people singing and dancing at the top of their longs, knocking the tables over and doing the many and still foreign to me Turkish dances, to what I can only comprehend is Turkish Soul music. Dating from the 1960/70’s, its infectious music, I feel like I know the words in these dark and smoke filled rooms, the exuberance of the signing and clapping of the regulars brings you in with it. Even if your doing it to blend in to avoid glares from the leather clad rock and rollers who look displeased with your presence.

The music is what always makes a place for me. This place sure has it, as I said I feel I can understand these Turkish songs, for in the end what else is most soul about? Love, lost love, lovers who left, the worse of love, the best, the in-between, the love triangle, the love rhombus, I can only assume that is what these songs are about, for no good soul and vintage jam can avoid it.

Yet the best thing about the possibly titled club Astrix, is its waiter. A man who’s name is different every time I ask, his short stature, and long hair to his waist, he is covered in strange tattoos; Is a definitive free sprit or possibly even one step past. They man has vaulted off walls, pole danced, all in the act bringing beers. Yelling and jumping, spinning and saluting, he is a one man show to the best of its definition. And whenever we make it till the 3am and last call comes around, he comes up to us (the americans) with what must be some of the only English he knows and says, This song is for you… Waiting to hear what song it is, which we now know is always the same, it is Averill Laveigns “Knocking on Heaves Door”(yes a Bob Dylan cover). its opening cliché and terrible, its build up blaring over the speakers, feeling my body cringe, retrating inside itself and blocking it out as best as I can, trying to never confuse it with the greatness of the original. The song Louder then I ever want to hear it, In the end I would prefer to never actually hear that song in my life. As we pack up, and walk out as he sits behind his dj booth(which he is the dj at the same time) looking at us with the slyest smile, glad to have torments us once again. I only hope that this is an ironic song choice. I think he knows what a terrible song he is playing. Did I mention how terrible this song is!

İstiklal has seemingly channeled the water vessel it use to be. Changing the form, changing what its delivering, but it still acts as a bridge of sorts between the two Turkey’s that exist. Consider İstiklal as the most western turkey has gone yet, Being the example of the direction Turkey is hesitantly going. İstiklal’s shops from all over the world line the street, in-between the westernized building fronts sits the nick-knacks, shops clinging on to their identity as Turkish. While around every day another western monolith appears. With a new set of sweeping changes all around. Looking above the Nike logo, you see the Ottoman style apartment blocks, some empty, others bustling with a discothèque or any number of other things, all above each store, it waves toward the one of the oldest trading hubs in the world Galata.

Yet besides Astrix it has taken me up in till yesterday to find a semblance of a bar where the variables were right enough for me to begin to feel comfortable within this ridiculous scene of a night life. Its bittersweet as my time is running out so quickly. Yet in the same way these places I’m finding so comfortable are the same almost as the ones I sit in New York and Seattle.

What’s Turkish about that? Its been the internal discussion of the limbo of cultural ambivalence that has developed in my experience of Istanbul. I’ve come thousands of miles, away from home only to be attracted to the Turkish equivalent to a scene playing the same western music, the same styles of dress, and the same youth art of stencils and hap hazard art all around.

But they are still Turkish, I’m still in Turkey, I just sit in a place that is stuck it in itself a de-markation line between Turkey’s direction and Turkeys past. Right?

[post note:
Scratch the De-markation bit, its like I’m are talking about actual war, it is obviously not. Maybe I mean the subtle semblance of globalization? no no that’s to many words, slightly pretentious in its own way.
Maybe it is the fact that me and my friends at home are so cool its gone international? No no, I’m not that cool, Neither are my friends, (I mean we are but not internationally) and in the end even the coolest are just coping the forehumans of hipster-doom, or beatniks, or what ever the title was for them before that.
Possibly its like the Twelve monkey, that every sub culture takes similar attributes, it spreads though anyone who listened to The Clash, or “In A Silent Way”, and was moved. Or for anyone who fell in love with Mark Rothko, or any art be it in any of the forms art appears, and was moved to a new outlook, all of which inspiring one to change and divert from the usual path that we are told to do? I like this idea.

The unification in challenging the status quo, we take similar attributes, all of which building on what came before. In what ever way that you choose, for me I prefer not to throw petrol bombs at the police, like they are in Athens. I would rather write about the subtle things, and shifts around me be positive or negative, Other may make amazing music, taking and building on the songs that changed their lives, maybe others run or do some other type of things as a way of disconnecting themselves from the straight and narrow, thrusting themselves out into a new idea, that in the end is an old one. Following what you love and your passions. Which in the end maybe there is a subtle unification or feel in those who ate attempting that.

like “In A silent way” did, for the concept of a Jazz record. For my concept of what music and art is. The nature of it to me as an anthem, or as a metaphor for change, and the cathartic response of such a change. ]

This is my father.

(please all tell him he should cut his hair)

greatest thing ever. Some humor for thanksgiving. i miss you all. And the states.

Comming soon to Sneaky Feeling:

Writing about Istanbul, its in process

Maybe i will write about Vienna, im going there soon.

I'm a terrible blogger all apologies.


Finally!

I'm beginning my career of making mix tapes, or more Miz-zip's compilations, the first one is called

Space IS the place, when you race
>Collection of songs with nothing to do and everything to do with the appollo program.<

More soon again i Apollogise(hahahaha) for my less the steller blog.

I just want to give a big Negative shout out to California.

Just shows we still got one big big hill to climb in overcoming intolerance in America. We are certainly better off then the generation before but we got much more hiking to do.

WE DID IT, WE DID IT, WE DID IT, WE DID IT.

The odds, my worries, i was so scared, i had all my theories of what could go wrong, THEY WERE ALL WRONG!

I'm happy, im thrilled, i want to be Home right now. So badly. I'll keep holding it down though, don't you worry.

I've actually feeling good about the shift, however it always brings me back to a scene in "Battle of Algiers." A scene that i think some up what can get lost in the large intial victory, the fact that there is still many more battles to be fought. (i'm watching you California.)Making this change this shift actually be systemic.

{alright so "Battle of Algiers" scene} Ali is on the roof after climbing the latter of the hierarchy of the FLO. He has been very victorious making many large victories against the French occupation, He is being asked to come and finally be apart of the upper levels of the organization, something that was only for the select few.

The roof he comes out to is dark. In the corner smoking a cigarette is El-hadi Jafar, the commander of the FLO, who within the rebels is scene as somewhat saint.

Jafa Silent, can See the elation in Ali's eyes that he has made it this far, Ali impatient says something to the effect of We could win. Jafar responding slowly, his face in deep contrast from the back light of the city

"winning is easy, it is sustaining the power that is hardest."

This rings so true to me. Yes! We won. Yesm we have turned states that even Clinton did not, we have one of the most incredible political campaigns in its tactical and overarching power. Yet this is just to get to that house.

Its time to Deliver, to keep up the vigilance that we all have shared on this election trail. We need to keep the pressure to now actually deliver the change, to pay the dues of the glory of winning, by finally taking care of our people, and by our people i mean all the people we have affected, and affect ever day American or not.

This is incredible, never have a felt so proud to be an American. I thought today about the kids who are being born, of my little cousins, who;s first major memories of a president is one who defied the odds, who is a minority, and is a symbol of true America. Where if you believe it, you can create it. That is the America I love so much. For it is so true at the end of the day(something so evident here in Turkey). This could really only happen in America.

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer," Mr. O

i'm onto why i feel slightly uncertain about it here. My feet slightly shaky ground, worried to make the next step. Things are well, but they are not spectacular. My Turkish is taking a long time, my other classes are very good; yet things are moving slower, my mind is not willing to dive in, i'm sitting at the edge of the pool, looking in.

Istanbul i find endlessly fascinating,


I've never been so overwhelmed by a city. Not the everyday, not the common walks to class, and dealing with a new university and meeting new people. I'm overwhelmed by the city. it is not just this city, with its sprawling geography slight slopes and un-adulterated growth.



View Larger Map

This is the terrain view of Istanbul form google maps, i live right there a speck along the Bosphorus(İstanbul Boğazı). Each day out my door, i have developed a routine but every day there is somewhere new i end up. Sometimes it is welcome sometimes i just miss New York; I miss Seattle. Both places i know where i'm, i know what are the limitations and know where i can find and be myself.


It is amazing to be taking urban studies as one of my courses while living here. trying to apply what i'm learning about the economic growth of Venice and of Bruges i try to tie it to Istanbul. In asking the professor how Istanbul fits into this growth he looks and me and says, "none of what i'm saying fully applies to Istanbul, the city's ebbs and flows are uncharacteristic of any other city of the world."


Its completely true, this city is its own beast. Possibly why i'm worried to jump in to the pool that is Istanbul and its much larger surrogate Turkey. Turkey, which is its own whirlwind of change, i wrote about it like this in my Journal,

Turkey is in a transition, Istanbul is the beacon of what it wants to be. A city with free market success, on the cutting edge. Shopping malls and western clad youth shopping, mingling, Emulating the west with a Turkish orientation.... however the roots of the past remain. A past different then this ideal, much more conservative orientations, less excited of this complete Free market avalanche(note Free market as a cultural orientation not as just an economic system, to make this easier lets cal it moving to the left as in it is a spectrum,).

AND THEN

There is me Zac, Coming from the even further left ward orientation then that of The final place on this spectrum Turkey has in mind.

We are meeting(Turkey and I) in a strange midway point, where there are more malls then I've seen in a city before, The streets are full of Turkish/western music; but you-tube is baned and a beer is 7ytl.

I find myself in a strange situation feeling like I've been catapulted to the United states in the 1950's. and it is slightly strange.

Maybe this feeling will pass and maybe it will stay, i have no idea. I will become more use to it, I feel i got to stick it out till the end.

The closest thing to real, Palin as President Simulator.

more about my life soon.

Ever Wonder about the price of Gas?

Here is an very insightful look into the price of Gas. In America. i'm not sure it applies here in Turkey.

All is well on the frontier.

Address here in Turkiye. Some of you may have another one, which works as well, but this is the most direct way to send mail to me.

BOĞAZİÇİ ÜNİVERSİTESİ - SUPERDORM
Uçaksavar Kültür ve Spor Tesisleri Cengiz Topel Caddesi
Etiler 34337, İstanbul
Türkiye

One Month and Counting

DSCN0214
Originally uploaded by sailingbynight

It has been a month and the gears of what i've decided to do are starting to finally turn.

I apologies for the time between entries, and no entries about the particulars. its all coming i promise.

I've been trying to figure it all out here, between the Curving sea's and the winding streets, things are complex here within this metropolis, and larger context country. it is true what they say about Istanbul as the line between two different worlds, yet at the end of the day it all comes back to what seems to matter most, and that is whats best for Turkey.

I've never lived in a city this huge, and at the same time unaccessible, it goes on for days, stretching out on two continents like the carpets of which it is famous for each neighborhood apart of the larger piece, its intreicacies and theme may be different, yet in the end it is all connected and apart of the big picture.

I took the time to organize my photos, here is a link to the map showing the places i have taken my photos.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Im tired, its 3am.

I went to a disco last night, mistake. Except for the fact that they had re-designed soul train in the back room, Much better after i discovered it behind a veil of lazers and pulsing lights, and well a mirror. This disco was ridiculous, far from my rock and roll pipe dreams.

I also saw the Aya Sophia that day, as well as the final Prayers of Ramadan (Ramazan in Turkish)

here are pictures (My camera died on my way out of the Aya Sophia, so the rest of the epic day-evening-next morning is not captured) : http://www.flickr.com/photos/24833720@N03/

pardon there disorganization, it will come soon. So will my writings.

WINNERS!

this speaks for itself, i also would like to apologizes for the politicization of this. But i watched this clip and find my head in a place of utter loss for words on how this is actually happening--or more ho She is actually apart of the circus.

5am Istanbul

I can never quite get use to the call to prayer. Its so beautiful, blasted out across Istanbul 5 times a day. Each Mosque that dots this city is beautiful, its mineratte covered in speakers coming out of the small center of tranquility with in the city. When ever i hear it i take the moment to hear it, as right now coming through my morning widow, in stereo all at the same time ever day, like clock work.

On Meeting Izet.


Izet was a short haired nervous wreck. Sitting in his small restaurant with very little customers on this Sunday of Ramadan night. It was the closest thing to home cooked meal we had had yet in Istanbul, look like leftovers on the counter, it was 7 lira so we said yes, with hope that it would be all right. It was a delicious meal of green beans, eggplant wrapped around meat balls and lots and lots of what the is already on every plate, bitter yogurt.
Sitting in the table at the corner, the speaker was at our ear. The music that was being played caught our attention, and as the night went on and the restaurant emptied it was just Izet and us. As Lizzie was coming back from the bathroom they stuck up a conversation, Izet joyful to hear that someone was interested in his music. Ginny and I soon joined in the Raki came out as he played for us everything from strange disco-Turkish music to gypsy and Jewish music. He had it all on his small dell laptop. Each song he played seemed to erect a different emotion from him. The most charming when any song came on about love. His eyes would tear and his voice rise, describing the inner meanings of this song and how it is singing about love. “love is like an ocean, and I’m the boat to cross,” he would describe. “I Just love love.”--”I give too much love, it never comes back to me.” His story continued to get sadder in between his large gulps of Raki, and trying to guess Ginny’s and Lizzie’s ethnicities.
“you must be Ukrainian, no no, gypsy, no Ukrainian.” Izet was wholesome his story very bleak coming from Sivas, a rural north east town in Turkey, he had seemed to be everywhere and had reasonably good English. “I’ve tried to get many jobs but none work.” Izet attempting to finish university he never did, very impressed by the fact that we go to Boğaziçi, he always had dreamed of going there. He even knew of Seattle because of his training in Microsoft programming, more importantly though because of “Two things: one, Kurt Cobaine and two, the protest where everyone
said no to that big group…. The WTO.” He shock my hand vigorously afterwards, smiling about the protest. Soon going back into his story, He never seemed to get him a job. Stumbling from one thing to a next, he found his way to his job at the café we are at, because of a failed trip to work in Russia.
“I wanted to go work in Russia, because the girls, they are strong. Tukish girls will sleep with you and say they did not. But Russia girls they are strong.” It seemed all was set for this stocky eastern Turkish to immigrate to Russia intill he was at the airport. No inusurence and assistance once he was there he was not able to go. Leaving him nowhere, after he had been kicked out of his house in Sivas.
“After crying three hours, and smoking many packs of cigarettes. I ended up here through a friend who needed me to work at her shop. This shop is my home, we are not suppose to be open but I have no where else but here, this is my home… but don’t worry the food was cooked by women.” Izet and us continued our talk in till it was time to head home it was a Sunday night after all, our adventure through Taksim proved to be a gain overall. After him letting us pay what we could, we left his small café, the name still never given, he gave us a tour of Taksim. Taksim which as it turned out we were not in earlier that night, was the most bustling of Turkish night life. Bars and Discos everywhere, Izet even pointing out the bars he liked, where we can hear live music.
As we ushered him to guide us home he did, The hustling of rides from Taxis was everywhere, tyring to figure out the mini buses(small buses which run later into the night) and the big metro buses. He rushes to the kiosk and points at a bus leaving, we hope on soon discovering that he put us on the wrong bus. We hoped off and got a cab, which in Istanbul is one hell of a ride home.
Izet’s was only the beginning I feel like. He is a metaphor of the idiosyncrasies that line and pave the streets of this city. A city I cant even comprehend….yet. It is gigantic. I miss home slightly, places I know. I hope it comes.

Where am I?

I'm here. it has happening there is little to turn back now. What a beautiful place i'm sitting on the overlook down from my dorm, the Boğaziçi flowing filled with boats, i'm perched above. Across that river is Asia, i'm in Europe.

The language is a little overwhelming, or okay lets be honest really overwhelming. The sincerity of the people has been pretty amazing with each other, they dont know waht to do with me. I like it here, i need to go to bed. I will write more soon. here is a video of the drive from the airport and me giving a tour of my dorm room.

best.
Zac

Uh....

Im In Istanbul.

The view from my room is bad, but lets pretend this is what it is:

To be Home

I like the subject line. I enjoy on these late nights in the northwest the debate of what to call my current activity. Maren left today though, and now my time here will be much less enjoyable.

For having my best friend within driving distance makes a lot of things a lot better.

Now im sitting here about to sleep listening to a new discovery Dosh. A one man musical explosion, it is incredible, sample after sample building on one another into the sonic landscape, once the biggest hit with hipsters. It went over their head after a while i think, it is too much to analyze new forms of old talent. Thus i wont try. It is incredible and the video linked shows it very well.

Brautigan's World

A very dear friend of mine left today for her journey to the Netherlands. In looking through my possessions i came across my tattered paperback of trout fishing in America. I had just re-read it during the idle time between pretending to catch fish. Thinking of Brautigan beside a remote trout pond in the northwest, a similar misty day. His Type writer (true story) and his family set up in a nice camp. His old station wagon parked up on a bluff. As a big trout hits his floating line to the right of his furverous typeing.

Trout fishing in America went on to sell two million copies, i wonder how many of the buyers knew what they were getting into, or gave it the time, soon realising that the very book has well nothing to do in the way of Trout fishing on first glance. In the end the book does, look very deeply at the mindset to catch a fish, a same mindset of meditation.

Chill out, Admire the beauty that is this Northwest frontier.

I think of Richard Brautigan when i drive through the streets of Tachoma Washington. The lazy city, that if you watch close enough eats its young. or so my father says. Yet this is the northwest still as beautiful except the streams caped, and the ramblers built ontop, soon followed by the concrete and so on. Yet in any one direction on a clear day there is always the everygreen in sight, and possibly not to far away a trout or some sort of fish to catch.

Your Catfish Friend

by Richard Brautigan

If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them."

(post note: I'm in Alaska have been for some time, just re discovered the internet. What a scary place)

Mahmoud Darwish, A creative mind for creative solution, to palestine. 

In Jerusalem
by Mahmoud Darwish
Translated by Fady Joudah

In Jerusalem, and I mean within the ancient walls,
I walk from one epoch to another without a memory
to guide me. The prophets over there are sharing
the history of the holy . . . ascending to heaven
and returning less discouraged and melancholy, because love
and peace are holy and are coming to town.
I was walking down a slope and thinking to myself: How
do the narrators disagree over what light said about a stone?
Is it from a dimly lit stone that wars flare up?
I walk in my sleep. I stare in my sleep. I see
no one behind me. I see no one ahead of me.
All this light is for me. I walk. I become lighter. I fly
then I become another. Transfigured. Words
sprout like grass from Isaiah’s messenger
mouth: “If you don’t believe you won’t believe.”
I walk as if I were another. And my wound a white
biblical rose. And my hands like two doves
on the cross hovering and carrying the earth.
I don’t walk, I fly, I become another,
transfigured. No place and no time. So who am I?
I am no I in ascension’s presence. But I
think to myself: Alone, the prophet Mohammad
spoke classical Arabic. “And then what?”
Then what? A woman soldier shouted:
Is that you again? Didn’t I kill you?
I said: You killed me . . . and I forgot, like you, to die.

Mutton Bursting

I found my new life goal:

Mutton Bursting Champion of America!

In my much needed research on the genetics and history of the subject of the previous post i discovered this incredible sport, once again highlighting the ingenuity of the American people and their love for useless sports for the Children to do. Strap on your child size padded vest and a helmet and join if you dear, in as one rodeo announcer claimed "The only legal form of child ab use" and off we go for a adventure in Bursting the Mutton.

"Mutton busting is an event held at rodeos similar to bull riding or bronc riding. In the event, a sheep will be caught and held still while a child is placed on top in a riding position. Once the child is seated atop the sheep, the people holding the sheep let go and the sheep then starts to run in an attempt to get the child off. Often small prizes or ribbons are given out to the child who can stay on the longest."

Just in! all children of America are being pulled out of Elementary schools to train for the Mutton Bursting. Proven tests have shown mutton bursting leads kids to live stronger lives and preform better in school after being continually humbled by sheep trying to murder them.


(side note there are a lot more clips like this, also to note the amount of people in the crowd)
I wonder if i can bet on these Mutton Busters?
Well i bought my vest and helmet, and off to try my skills. Lets hope i dont crush the sheep on the way out of the gate.

To catch a sheep.

Its an easy concept to imagine. Catching and isolating the one sheep (what we thought was the dumbest) is an easy and painless process.

Well you have four sheep and a majestic ram, who all are as un-trained as the for-Ovis aries of the mountains of wherever they descended from. The only way to collect this small flock of ours is with feed and a roll of twine. Hoping for them to come rushing into the small isolated paddock within their far to expensive pasture. This pasture re worked and wire restrung as many times as the sheep have found a way out. Rushing into what they see as free-er fields ahead, Sadly not the case, for our four legged friends will be on the plate by the time the sun sinks into the sea.

They have a simple life in this field, run from humans, eat food. Wonder into the paddock for grain every late afternoon making sure all humans are invisible. They seem to be happy, with their obnoxious noises and quest for food and fear. Catching them using the twine, grain and quick steps. Tieing the string around the small gate to the sheep lean-to. (Which is what it should be-- However my mothers overly love to share her creature comforts of her life with the sheep, ends with a large sheep mansion, with a catchment system to collect the water from the roof for these sheep).

Tieing the string i disappear, letting the sheep get use to the small white line far above their small heads. Shortly after strolling in with a galvanized grain bucket, as the sun is dropping low with its golden paintbrush. Acting like i had not just appeared with sting (of course not!) Swishing the grain around to make it painfully obvious grain in my had signaling the sheep that their brains can stop working, and that their stomachs should now motivate them. Rushing the grain into the bucket I walk out, hoping for the flock to rush over into the paddock. Hiding behind a dirt bluff, or more a sheep blind, sting in had i wait as they cautiously walk into their lawn in front of their lean-to. Only to find that the gate is attached by chain to the fence, or the dumb sheep stayed outside of the year around their home, or they saw me behind the sheep blind and the multitude of the five attempts leading me empty handed with what was requested, the white sheep.

This continues for another twenty minutes coaxing the sheep with a total of five buckets trying all sorts of ways of sheep ulterior motivation. Hoping the continue the thought process around food instead of fear. Attempt after attempt all hope behind the sheep blind is dwindling. I’ve also discovered what seem to be harmless shrubs around me are actually all covered in strange thorns, that have made happy homes into my epidermis. Slowly I wait for the sheep to see past the strange moving black hair, hope to see it as a new plant maybe…. Well this doesn’t work either.

The last hope as the peanut gallery appears on all sides watching me the soon to be bonafide sheep catcher at work. Running the twine up as far it goes, the fifth bucket of grain in place, I hid crouched waiting for the white sheep( the dumbest) to come within sights of the lean-to. The stickler of a sheep slowly makes its way to the grain as I run as fast as I can slipping and sliding to the string slamming the gate shut. The professionals soon took to isolating the white sheep, with ropes hogtieing it in the back of the truck, Eddie got the glory today, as for Me I’m covered in thorns and thinking of how many beers could have rather been bought instead of the idea that we need sheep. I’m not destined for the shepherd position at Pu’uo kumau ranch. Cows are much easier.

With the sheep set in a smaller paddock all taking refuge as one single entity it was onto the pros to extract the only all white sheep and relocate to a new home, hoping in the end that her stupidity, which is really smarts for she is most fearfully of people, an overall good thing. Leading to a smarter and friendlier flock.

Something I doubt completely.

In other news The tickets have been bought. On September 18th( my 21st birthday) 2008 @ 4pm EST, I’m leaving for Istanbul.

Its official my dream is actually coming to fruition. Hopefully without the need to Sheppard sheep any longer.

I'm existing on an Atoll. Well i guess it is a little bigger then an atoll. However I'm on an island, big in theory small in actuality. I sometimes expect to find a Gilligan here, bumbling and desolate with his only company those fellow stranded. In my mind it seems the isolation could not have actually spawned a functioning economy with utilities. Its so isolated. The function island has to be all dream, no one actually believes this is a good idea, do they? oh wait Zac yes they do, and some of them are related very closely to you.

I'm growing out of this doubt, of whether or not i agree with the idea of this isolation. I do like the reassurance that i can drive away from any one spot to another, always able to flee. Not much to flee to here.

Take away these doubts and i remember how beautiful it is here. The picture above taken a couple months ago as the sun was setting, painting and illuminating the terraced fields that once existed. The golden paintbrush turning the world around me into a magical hue of green. I chase after that color of green in my mind. Trying to find or replicate it, a color that reminds me of home, or my nuvo-home.

Its beauty here really does make it hard to question the if ands or buts of being 3,000 miles away from anything tangible.

I've been listing too on repeat Tom Waits, "all the world is green."

Driving up and down the topography at this magic hour, the rain has socked us in. This golden paintbrush still appears, sweeping across everything glistening and moving within the constant breeze. This song it plays in a similar light in my mind, as the sun sets in a sea of color, this illuminated grass continues in till dusk sets in and it fades out to the white light of the moon.

Here is youtube clip of Tom Waits playing the song, in a sea of blue lights on David Lettermen. (I'm trying to figure it out so i don't have to use Youtube, but I'm very internet illiterate.)

I wanted to post in the same as the jazz post below about another musical love of mine. Someone i cant get enough of both in video (which there is few good videos of) and auditory.

Otis Redding. The Glorious man that he was, similar i think also to a Bison in majesty. His tone, though gravely was a change, a difference to the soft and even tones of the Motown and more pop oriented moments of soul. His voice with its incredible character. The arrangements by him and the Stax etc. Adding more spice then the world knew what to do with.

Its growing is an Otis song from 1966 about the spreading capacities of love. well my love for Otis grows as well, everyday it grow a little bit stronger. You-tube is a great resources of his television appearances from his short Carrier and one of the most hilarious ones is this from a show from england called Ready Steady Go, here is a clip of Otis singing Satisfaction, My Girl (my favorite rendition) and Respect.

So when i'm not getting my official ATV license on a sleepy Sunday mid afternoon, i sit and a listen to all sorts of music.

I think it is very obvious how much music is a force within my life. That can not be underscored enough. One of the great inventions (or worse) to my generation is you tube. Which as a matter of fact i think is full of the most obnoxious and least interesting garbage. Kids who suck at guitar and everything else in the world trying to mimic or claim to be better then the greats. For a time there as well it seemed that these were the only videos i could find, hoping to tap into the global Internet to see some videos of the true greats.

It is finally shifting for Yesterday during my hours long researching of new music i discovered Ahmad Jamal playing "Darn that Dream" over youtube:



I feel in love with the light handedness of this mid fifties trio, in a room surrounded by people admiring this young and spry piano player. I went on to listen to more of his records and proved to be a nice break to some of the more mental and grad piano jazz record. Like "Mingus Plays Piano" and "Monk Alone" two of my most favorite records.

This year i really fell into a love for the minimal jazz piano, with little acompianment the intracacy of the keys has always been one of my favorite insturments to listen and watch being played. Ahmed is no exception and he is still living! Unlike Mingus who really played bass and hated the world. Or, Thelonious whos carreer was damponed by the likes of the hot air blowers such as Davis and Coltrane.

Ahmed still plays and with the light hearted ways of the bop era coming through. A more free feeling then the later sixties and then the experimentation that erupted. Much like this song the young Ahmed Jamal twenty years before was an inspiring force for Davis and Coltrane. Pushing to more creative composition within his release from the early fifties to think he aided in the begining of the reformation of jazz leading pushing the gnere forward to about ten years later. Miles playing Wayne shorters "Footprints" with his quintet in 1968:



See Youtube is getting better, now if only there was a better filter to find things that are worth it.

Above in the header is a Bison.

The American Bison is the best Bovine. A symbol of the American west of freedom and of majesty, like the Bald Eagle of the ground. The bison has slowly decided that i should adopt it as a symbol of my own, setting it center stage into that chest of spirit animals i keep under my bed.

I often feel like a bison, slow and subtle, a little chunky around the edges. Driving today on the ranch on the iridescent four wheeler watching the cows. They treat me i think how they would treat a bison, utter panic. They follow this utter panic with a calm 'oh it is far too much energy to run' as they sit back down in the parched yellow grass.

Cows have a similar look to Bison, the great look of inquisitiveness, seen across the board in bovines:
They are a related species. I just hope that one day when i can raise bison, the friendlier more majestic Bovine i can commune like i do with the cows.

I'm still trying to figure out Cows, seeing that there are no Bison here in Hawaii for me to take care of. I have begun a slow but blossoming love for the other large mammals.

I have really been spending a lot of times with Horses. Horses possibly on of the few other species that uses a fist like pound to greet each other, except it is with their noses. It all goes back to sentiment though. Horses i know are saying in their snuffing and pounding noses,

"Dude whats up!"

Thats right i think Horses say dude. It is sad that while is sit here on the Ranch in Hawaii i cant get to really test out my skills with Bison ranching but possibly it will come, i can settle with cows right now, they are pretty cool too, just less Majestic.


(Bison and Bull together in the tropics.)

I read the New York times almost ever day.

I always pay most attention to their national news, especially those simple and stright forward slide shows The times new decision to dive into online multimedia is an intresting approuch at gaining readers, or more retaining them.

Today they launched:

"The Debt Trap"

A new look at Americans Debt, how it got there what has caused it and what can be done to solve it. Using all kinds of bells and whistles, video,audio, graphics and a very wel written beginning article. In my Initial reading i really was fond of their way of addressing an issue i have heard around the water coolers of finance.

The seeming low savings rates amount Americans, why is that? Debt? lack of simple education of savings.

According to a Washington post archive from 2004 the Average American family has $3,800 in the bank, that is according to the Federal Reserve. Who knows if those numbers have changed but i think the problem relates to the seemingly inept ability of the schools (public and private) to teach what is most important to my generation; the idea of the easiest ways to have savings ready for the most dire of times.

I don't have a solution in this short tirade but i think the first is realizing the place that we have fallen into as a country. An electro-shock to get the wheels on the rails to get out of the mess that has begun.

The Beginning of something, I'll have to see if it lasts.

Not quite sure what, but i believe it is time to start up the blogging business again.

From wherever, when ever.