A Brief History of Time

-tagged by a nut

10 years ago... I played lazer tag for my 12th birthday. They brought out an ice cream cake and sung me Happy Birthday. I love Ice cream cake. The one with chocolate, vanilla and little choco crumbs. I also love that sweet gooey icing they use to write messages on the cake. I remember throwingthe left overs in the fridge and pampering my sweet tooth for a good week. The habit continued with daily pints of Haagen Daaz that lodged themselves in my gullywutts. No worries. The following year I hit a solid growth spurt and reallocated my hard earnerd assets. That ice cream's sweet poison. But it was all worth it. Definitely worth it. Now I'm immune.

5 years ago... I was living in Miami between my junior and senior years working as a pony riding instructor at a small summer camp. The job rocked. Kids are such characters and the company wasn't too shabby either. Some of my friends signed up for the job and I met a couple more there and still share tales of the experience. One day, for example, we get to the coral and who do we see but Diablo, the cocoa pearl steed mounted atop Cinammon giving her the sweet raw deal as if he were churning cream at a milk farm. We laughed as Cindy, the superviser struggled to intervene in nature's affairs.

1 year ago... I was walking down breezy breezy Cabarete in pitch black night, arms and smiles interlaced with the one I love. It was a weekend honeymoon, an interplay of extasies and an awakening of chambers the heart didn't even realize it had. Her hips were lips that spoke in serene songs, her neck was warm against mine, our eyes, rolling backwards in heat. Talk about spontaneous combustion.

Yesterday... I lost my virginity. Hehehe. No. Just kidding. I still haven't lost it. ;p Yesturday I learned about a lake that reflects the sky. At first the lake was bursting in waves, crashing, swirling, swooshing, waves whirling against waves and wind. From its point of view the sky didn't exist. Slowly the lake started calming down and the waves disappearing into the void. Calmer and calmer until its was as still as ice and perceptive as a mirror. Suddenly the entire sky opened up and the lake was able to see something that had seemed missing, but always there. I also got into discussion as to the ups and downs of a gel ink pen. Basically the pen writes superb except at high speeds when it leaves gaps in the stream. The ink is sharp and of high quality. Naturally this is a pen that I want to be dealing with. it dries quick too. But the flaws are there. It costs about $2.50 for starters. And it runs dry in under a week. Not worth it. I'm waiting to earn my quail feather. Now it's just ballpoints and keypads. Also, when hanging around debating whether or not to go out we came up with a place for stoners to hang out without any heat. There'll be an array of items to blow up and wig out on including a spiral staircase that never ends, a room that's entirely black and white and a sensory deprivation chamber. It's the perfect place to go if you want to do somethin but not go out. The only flaw was, well, stoners. What fucking stoner was going to get off his cloud pillow and actually go somewhere? At first we thought not many. If the place was going to work it was more going to be because of lucrative funding from sponsors, not customer participation. No. It would exist solely for the sake of experiementation. But then we realized that our stoner motivation estimate was rather conservative. There are so many different stoners all with different habits that the population is so high there's bound to be some people showin' up. Anyways that was yesturday.

Today... Today I discovered the green side. It's somewhere between the good side and the dark side, though placing it in such a dualistic spectrum does it less justice than it deserves. The green side is the most perfect place for me to be, mostly because green is my favorite color. Blue is cool to, so is fire. Blue fire must be the bomb. But it doesn't compare to green fire. The flaming wick of life, green is organic chemistry, it lives, breahtes, reproduces and explodes into several shades of colors that complement each other as elegantly as a forrester's pallette. I was definitely in the green side and in synch with laws of self induced causality. It's very easy to point out mistakes in others and overlook them in oneself. Ever forget something on your lap only to stand up and hear it smashing against the floor. Phones are the usual suspects. So are other items, some of great value. Today one of mine went flying and smashed into the gas station floor. Ah fuck it. The story's too long for this survey. It was Aesop shit.

Tomorrow... I have a date with the planet space and though time doesn't exist I'm not going to be late.

1 year from now... I'll probably lose my virginity 8===>()

5 years from now... Front row seat to the beginning of a new Time. Oh yea, and I'll find my virginity.

5 snacks I enjoy... white chocolare chip cookies, (with) cookies and cream ice cream, sake, throbbing cooter, spicy tuna rolls

5 songs I know all the words to... Knocking on Heaven's Door, Light my Fire, Pyramid Song,

5 reality television shows I watch... I don't watch TV.

5 television shows I watch daily... I don't watch TV.

5 things I would do with $100,000,000... Burn it and throw the ashes out to sea. (After helping out my momma of course)

5 locations I would love to run away to... Oaxaca, Amazon, New Zealand, Big Sur, Tibet (and everywhere in between

5 things I like doing... Reading, Writing, Camping, Tongue Kissing, Stretching Further

5 things I would never wear... my thong sticking out of my shorts, V necks, makeup, cock ring, hair dye

5 recently seen movies I like... oh geez ummm none really

5 famous people I'd like to meet... Jonny greenwood, Tony Vigorito, the Jesus man, Satyananda, Shakti

5 biggest joys of the moment... peace, progress, sadhana, harmony, imagination

-do it if you wanna

A Bite Off Eden (cont)

A Bite Off Eden (cont)

I went to explore the "orange grove." Apparantly it was the main trail, just continuing on beyond the river and up the canyon side. Two days earlier I ha dthought the river was the end of the road, now, rivers were just a passing fad, one that was always there and never got old. Did i mention I was in paradise? The air was pungent, dressed in the sweet stench of ripe guavas, bright orange peels and baby mangoes. Across the river the mosquitoes were in control. Forget about standing still. They'd swarm. True carnivores stumbling across human flesh for the first time in ages. it drove them wild. Bug infested guavas lined the floor. Not many, but a few, exposed to the elements. Specifics have long been committed to memory but the trail continued on, through taro plantations and gardens of fruit. Did I say Eden? yes. And I'll say it agin. Eden. There were staircases mad eof old roots coiling up the valley side crashing into rivers and creek beds gliding through the green. I kept on, past a cental outlook of the entire valley, wrapping around the jungle like a sushi roll. The air was hot. Hotter than before. This would also be the case for days to come. No sidetrail was left unexplored. I found a hippie stash, unoccupied or abandoned. It blened in nicely with the surroundings. Waterfalls, creeks, citrus, green moss, green everything everywhere. One sidetrail led to a spot where a goat's skull had been staked to a stick. Sacred Land. Ward off the invaders. I payed my respects to the goat, let him know I was there merely to observe, not meddle in his affairs. Nevertheless it felt as though I was the one being observed. Kind of creepy but spiritual nonetheless. A completely different array of forces than I was normally accustomed to, all acting in balance. Vulnerability was still therebut it was quickly oversought with a little bit of care. There was a sacred spot of green grass resting againstthe side of a rock ledge. I wanted to smoke but the lighter had gotten wet at the Sacred Pools. There were tns of pools here too. Some bigger. Maybe the ones earlier were not in fact the long sought after big pools after al. Maybe there was more. I continue don to the other side trails. One required a pool crossing. This was the biggest pool yet, like an olympic jacuzzi. There was another hippie stash on the other side. perhaps the Library. taro plantations everywhere. the ancients had it all. Fertile, sacred ground. Everlasting, always perpetual lusty lush. After even more sidetrails I got back on the main one. What a shape shifting chamelic mother fucker. it would disappear under leaves, behind roots, across rivers. You could hear water falling everywhere. It dripped down from the valley above. Not rain, but rivers and creeks and streams and the combinations of all at once. I remember crossing a river and finding a trail on the other side that went through mangled trees that grew like the vines on the gate to Hell. The surroundings got even greener, lusher, denser, beauty fuller, and any other word I've used 10,000 times to describe the same thing. The trail picked up, went higher, paralleled a river with bright green waterrfalls, climbed higher and beyond, nt jacuzzis, but pools, deep deep pools. I kept my shorts on for this one. No need for absolute exposure here. I wasn't even planning on jumping in but what the hell I had made it this far. And that's how there came to be an overanalytical maniac splashing around Kalalaus wet mouth. The trail going back was even more confusing. I lost it completely after bumping into some "locals" picking guavas with a long bamboo stick. Well, they weren't really locals. Locals have Hawaiian blood. These were foreigners, Haoles that had just taken up residence on the island. I was just a traveller. A traveller now lost chasing every little path that sprouted up on the valley floor. The trail dropped me off past the red cliffs between the 9 and 10 mile marker. I ha dgone waay off. I took the main path back to camp, blazed and heade dout towards the beach. On the way out I ran into Brett and brian and Erin, whom I hadjust met. Brett had a sack full of oranges. He was Santa. The sack was full, but not for long. For Brett is a humble, selfless man. He puts everyone (and especially complete strangers) ahead of himself. He stood at the trail opening handing out oranges to hikers who had just arrived. What a swell surprise after an 11 mile foot-cracking haul. And boy were there hikers. There were about 10 people already setting up near our area. Most would stay just for the ngiht and not even explore the sanctuary, but it was still more cluttered than the nights before where only you would hear yourself scream and laugh in dreams. My camp was still isolated up on top of the ridge near the falling rocks. Now, everyone had oranges. briceton, who was only 11 years old, hadhiked u pthe trail with his dad. He was looking to trade an orange for a goat burger. Unfortunately the rangers had raided Kalalau a week earlier and all the hippies were gone, along with any good chance of a goat burger. He was determined though. An adventurous young kid with a loud, almost blunt mouth. His mind picke dup on things quickly for complete assimilation. What a boy. he reminded me of Nicholas from San Diego. Brett, Erin, Briceton, Matt and company had met the night before. Matt came limping in. He had hurt his knee on the hike. Matt was from Seattle, or somewhere in Washington. About 25% of the people I had met were from somewhere in washington or had lived there a while. Matt had heard of the Hippies' Space Cake. I told him about Super Frank and his magic pizza with green flecks. Space Cake supposedly had mushrooms. I thought that was improbable because mushrooms break down in the baking process. it could be a topping, who knows. What a treat though. Matt thought Brett was a donkey for sawing and carrying a log to the caves where they were camped. The saw, what a tool. Tey planned to have a party at night and invited me to join. 151, Vodka, etc... Matt works as a subcontractor for acoustic sealings and had the cash to bring a satellite phone to keep in touch with his wife. She was worried about Briceton going. it was the only condition. Briceton's face lit up when I told him I had a small little camping hammock. He wanted to set it up in the cave. I went up and got it for him.

A Bite Off Eden (continued)

A Bite off Eden

Perseverance trumps exhaustion. At least today, because I am exhausted but must continue writing. Why? Because we are still somewhere by Teusday. Tuesday! Right now it’s Friday. Geez. I’m at the LAX baggage claim waiting for Dan but am still running on island time. Tuesday morning I woke up and did the usual loafing around the tent. There were footsteps outside but I saw no goat. As always the ocean was engaged in perpetual motion. Out here we perpetuate, baby! You could always hear it from the tent. Always. Sometimes it sounded like the wind. Sometimes it was the wind. Sometimes the two were indistinguishable. Either way a grand presence could be felt. After all this was Sacred Land. Everything progressed in holy motion, changing, evolving, metamorphosing. That morning I was going through an introspective dilemma. The Hindu temple was in my future. So was the Sleeping Giant. Geographically they are very close and could be experienced in the same day. Only a couple of miles apart. However, I was on foot, and this was Kauai, were the miles stretch for ages and time does its own thing depending on how good a terms it’s on with you. What an awkward sentence. It didn’t get the point across at all. Oh well. That’s the story of my life. I had a permit to stay at Ke’e Wednesday night. It turned out to be a permit for Koke’e, which I had been to earlier. Either I was hallucinating during my visit to the state office or the ranger fucked up royally. Not really a big deal though. “Oh, ranger, this is Ke’e? I thought it was Koke’e” or something to that nature. It could be pulled off. Yes, there would have to be a little white lie involved. Yes, my soul may have been docked for a delayed stay in this material dimension, but not for too long. So my prospective plans (which in Hawaii share the consistency of powdered air) took two forms. On the one hand I would spend Wednesday at Ke’e and hop around the North Shore beaches, sleep in Anini, lovely lovely Anini, jump on the Kilauea Food Mart bus early early morning (we’re talking 5am here folks), hitch up Kuamao, make it to 9am pooja and eventually hike up the Sleeping Giant. The other plan was more adventurous. I would sleep at Ke’e, hike Powerline Trail to the Sleeping Giant, crash for the night under the picnic tables and hitch a ride to the Temple for 9am pooja. I would carry the seashell offering there personally, my own ancient quest. Unfortunately (or not) neither plan would take form. Nope. But I didn’t know that yet. See? It’s pointless to speculate, especially in the most remote spot of an island jungle getaway. I got my scout pack packed, smoked the remainder of a bowl I had passed out on, took a crap and hiked into the grove, as I had done two days earlier. That grove is golden, it’s spiritual, it’s a metaphysical filter of cosmic rays and a doorway into the white light of perfection. There was a fire pit filled with bright white ash, all the juice had been singed out. I jammed my walking stick into the pit to bless it with a fire’s ghost. I rubbed some ash on my hand too and creeped around the grove slowly, taking it all in at once. The mosing took me back to the valley trail. I wanted to hit up the boulder to write and see if the trail went further than before. At the fork, where I could go either right to the boulder or left to the river palace I saw a group of people crossing the stream. Apparently the trail did go further. They were looking for the Big Pools. I told them about the River Palace and the small pools along the way. That had been the end of the line for me. The group consisted of Matt, his son Briceton, Brett and Jennifer Ginga. I had seen them on the beach the day before. Now, they all had their pockets full of oranges and offered me one. I gladly took it and promised to let them know if I found the Big Pools. Instead of stopping at the boulder were I had written two days earlier I continued upstream. There was a small, worn out path that was probably a creation of my imagination. Nevertheless it took me deeper into the wilderness. The canyon walls came closer to the river. I had the stick in one hand and the orange in the other. It was ancient mendicant shit: alone in the wild with only a soul to guide. Not only were the canyon walls getting narrower, almost enveloping the river, but they were growing greener. Very green, with plants sticking their heads out of the timeless rock. The stone was colorful too: mineral blues and reds stacked up on top each other in prehistoric swirls and layers. The best 4 bucks I’d ever spent in my life. Perfect for transitioning in and out of wet landscapes. No shoe laces either. Perfect! The river widened and morphed into a pool. I sat and soaked the beauty in. It was all green. There was another pool a couple of feet above, feeding water into the ages. They were both pretty deep, though I couldn’t get past the second one as the water was coming down hard and I didn’t think there was a way up. Well, there’s always a way up. But not always a practical one. I was writing near the first pool as a dragonfly buzzed by. A blue dragonfly. A big blue dragonfly in the middle of Eden. And this was Eden my friends. Even the mosquitoes only took what they needed. A bite. Or two. The orange was a bit acidic, picked early from the tope of the tree. It was delicious nonetheless. I threw the seeds into the river. Maybe they’d plant themselves downstream and it’d be raining oranges. After the snack I stripped to my bare bare bottom, buttass nekkid, and jumped into the fountain of youth. The water was freezing but manageable and refreshing. I didn’t want to tell a soul about this spot. I wanted it all for my own. But I made a promise, a promise sealed with an orange, a promise I had to keep. I also promised myself to return before hiking out the valley.

more to come

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