dinner with Sara & Gulleik last night, always a power jolt of energy sharing stories. and now faced with the dilemma on how to circumlocute the Amurikan situation. what exactly IS going on there. inside and outside impressions. as usual, my politic is anecdotal, but the changes that have been implemented since September 11, 2001 are extreme, subtle, and hidden from view. the book that Rick passed on to me, the "Clash of Civilizations" details the continued demise of the Imperial power of the West, and the rise of Muslim political power and Sino-centrism. I believe this trend has been happening for years. predating Anthony's pronouncement as we were walking onto 5th Avenue in NYC from the Parsons photo lab one afternoon -- that the primary characteristic of this age in the West is decay. that profound and concise observation marked the beginning of a long friendship that has explored the world and the energies behind the surface of the world.

Jon's 80th birthday, a smallish family get-together in Seltjarnarnes at the old folks center to celebrate in the Icelandic fashion with loaded tables of eats, some singing, coffee and cakes, and some stand-up comic relief. the siblings practice the special song that they will shortly sing for Jon and the assembled guests. nice to catch up with the clan.

whewsh, already HERE. for some days. staying in the empty flat of a friend of a friend, an Icelandic woman living in Boulder. a blizzard, and same in my head, the soft haze of jet-lag. in the mornings, leaving me groveling to the desire -- not even out of bed -- for more sleep, sleep, sleep. and taking it: not like I have a JOB or anything. but with the limited time here, people to see, plans to be made, and the heavier work of Germany lying just ahead. maybe should be sampling future modes of mentality. nah, just be here now, which is struggle enough.

swimming, forgot my earplugs. ever since I ruptured my eardrum in that surfing crash while hanging out at Randy's Delaware Shore beach house oh so many years ago, ears have gotten sensitive to cold, so, earplugs are a must. I don' wanna hear. shutting ears to the noise of being, nah, just sensitive. and not tough.

verily on the road. in the sky, between earth and heavens. and with an inertia far above the normative baseline (of tethered being). perhaps pivotal in locative presence. with the strange old dilemma of Europe beckoning, offering cultural and intellectual stimulation, and jobs; the US only to be habited with a begging bowl or throat-cutting PR tactics. and this highly incidental and mercenary gibberish of law, politic, militarism, and market. but the spaciousness of the land, it's enveloping and readable sky (sky slowly dying in down-wind Los Angeles and coal-fired über-powerplant and endless sky-worms). vegetation that is sensible, and sensuous, full of necessity.

so. anyway, officially this becomes again a travelog. once I called it rotless jottings, the notebook entries that fit face-to-face in closed books in a locked trunk somewhere, sometime. because otherwise, these notes still dance around the voice of the void. not the voice inside, but an external expression that is stiff and formal with social conformity. not yet freed from the externally measured usage. the development of voice, so often spoken about by writers, must be a unique and very much internal coming-to-know process. nothing frugal or ascetic, but rich, debauched, and psychic. transient as any heightened state of being. sustainable only with tremendous self-discipline or complete abstention from reasoned living. so, what path is this, developing in the time of ... war?

flows of strangers surround, carry, float the senses in a proto-typical field of mellow drama, and media platitudes.

but, hallo, where am I? elsewhere. another airport again, a new-ish feeling, not fitting, but fossilized in mind. an homage to Bedouin. past flickering lives, partially transparent bodies that echo histories and occasionally abundant futures.

what did you say?

whiskers grow...

on the cusp, of the wide open space of nomadic drift. expectations of difference and sameness. generating axioms of limitless motion, movement.

Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe
The enemy increaseth every day;
We at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves
Or lose our ventures.

-- Brutus, as quoted by Samuel Huntington in The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order

new year. up for a mid-morning ride from Iron Springs into Granite Basin. a phat hill-climb on the first mile, some ice on the road, uphill. don't have a hill-climbers stamina, and the downhill was cold, glad for the balaclava on under the helmet. find some bike trails, good conditions, an inch or two of snow over the fine granite gravel, breaking tracks even, through manzanita, scrub oak, pi?on, ponderosa, yucca, and prickly pear. easy ride, will probably climb Granite Mountain tomorrow. or the next day, or the next.