God 2.0 and TMI

I just took my first look at #21 in awhile, where I reference not being to listen to the Garbage song #1 Crush without thinking of my friend Owen. As I was reading it, I was listening to the little radio station on Fred Flare, where I'd been looking for an alarm clock. As I'm reading #21, #1 Crush came on the radio. It's 1 of maybe 60 songs on the whole thing. So, thank you God 2.0, or thank you coincidence. Either one works.

I'm getting down with my kumbaya roots (raised by wolves dressed like hippies, that's the short version) and asking for world peace today, which is a little like asking for the fabric of the whole world to be ripped to shreds and rewoven with a tighter and softer hand to it, maybe out of the undyed wool of very cheerful sheep. But I want war to end, I want everyone to go to bed with a full belly, I want torture and rape as a war weapon to stop, I want people to stop getting killed over land or God or ideas. It's what I want, and it's not well thought out or remotely logical, but I'm pretty okay with the fact that I'm basically hurtling emotions with curly hair. I have to be okay with that; I have to wake up with me every day, and I'm done changing.

I'm always asking for the little things, hoping they'll add up to the big things. Now here's a big thing. I hope it helps all the little things.

Love --

#26 -- More dancing and singing please

This blew my mind. Since I'm doing nothing but blowing my nose (the exhaustion has morphed into an actual cold), here's a fantastic story from the life of one of our modern masters of creating his very own reality, Peretz Bernstein --er-- Perry Farrell. From his Wikipedia entry:

"In December 2001, Farrell risked his life by flying into politically troubled Sudan with other members of Christian Solidarity International to negotiate the release of Sudanese slaves. Jane's Addiction donated their earning from one concert for the redemption of over 2300 people, who had been enslaved under terrible conditions. Once the redemption agreement was signed, Farrell started up freedom parties at various redemption sites "armed only with a boom box and his legendary voice."

"He began dancing and singing," said an associate; "I wasn't sure what would happen, but then everyone joined in. Everyone was dancing. Even the Arab retrievers joined in. It was Christians, Muslims, and Jews all dancing together. Arabs, Africans, Americans, and Europeans — all."

This says a little about why, as I get older and more decrepit and creaky, I see less and less personal value in finding the subculture that accepts you (maybe because I've done that already and admittedly, it's a good place to start because then, a, you have a community and, b, you have some empirical evidence that maybe you are not insane) and more value in this -- showing up and dancing and singing in a crowd of people who are nothing, at all, like you.

Until next time.