THEME:  Summer fun at the beach

INVITATIONS:  Cut round circles and color one side like a beach ball.  On the other side, use California beach slang, such as:

            “Hey, dudes and dudettes–slap on your best beach gear and come hang out at the Indoor Beach Party.  Don’t let winter chill you out!  There’ll be a prize for the baddest beach threads, and we’ll have some really rad activities!  Bring your fave beach snack for munchin’ and blow off this winter scene–totally!”

     This is a fun party for all ages, from teens to adults.

MATERIALS FOR ACTIVITIES:  Two surfboards or plain wooden boards of similar size; two large bowls; wrapped hard candies; two plastic pitchers; two clear plastic glasses; two or four rolls of Life Saver candies; large box of sand; 20 pennies; blackboard and chalk or whiteboard (or poster) and marker; team prize for the competitions, such as kiddie sunglasses for each team member; prize for best beach outfit, such as a pair of underwater goggles; music for dancing, if desired (Beach Boys, etc.) and stereo; prize for dance contest, if desired, such as a beach ball or water wings; video of old beach movie and VCR, if desired.

FOOD:  The guests will bring snacks, and you can provide the cold pop–six-packs in various flavors, packed in an ice chest.  You might also provide something more exotic, like a fresh pineapple.  Set the food out on a table covered with a beach blanket or large beach towel.  Serve in creative containers, like large seashells, a diver’s mask, little plastic boats, etc.

DECORATIONS:  First of all, have the party room warm and well lighted, as the guests will be wearing summery clothing.  In two clear corners, create two famous beaches, such as Malibu, Waikiki or Palm Beach.  If you have local beaches, you could use those names.  Label the beaches with signs and try to recreate something that beach is famous for.  Borrow some potted palms for Palm Beach, or make palm trees on the wall with colored construction paper.  For Malibu Beach, you might spark some laughter by setting up a scene with Malibu Barbie and Ken in their beach buggy, etc.  Light blue cloths or curtains could hang on the wall as an ocean backdrop.  You could display diving or surfing gear, if you have access to it.  In other areas of the room hang colorful swimsuits, beach towels, beach posters and Beach Boys album covers.  Near the refreshment table, you might set up beach blankets and umbrellas on the floor.  Have Beach Boys surfin’ music playing softly in the background during the competitions.

 BLOW-BY-BLOW:            As guests arrive, assign them equally to the two (or more, if the group is large) different beaches.  Each beach team then uses this time to come up with its own cheer.  When the teams are complete, they each give their cheers, and the competitions begin.

Surf's up!

            The first competition is the Surfing Race.  It will require three people from each group, usually two boys and a girl.  The teams choose their contestants before the race is explained.  Give the boys from each team a surfboard or similar piece of wood, and they hold it between them while the girl sits on it.  On a signal, the groups race to the end of the room and back.  The team to arrive first gets a point on the board.

            The next contest is the High Dive, which requires one representative from each beach.  You (the host/hostess) provide the contestants with one pitcher of water each.  On the floor are two empty glasses.  These they must fill at least two-thirds full from the position of standing on chairs.  The one who spills the least water on the floor gets the point for her team.

            The next event is the Underwater Swimming Race.  One contestant is chosen to represent each beach.  Give each one a deep bowl filled with water at the bottom of which are several wrapped candies.  He is seated at a table or may kneel on the floor in front of the bowl, keeping his hands behind his back.  At the signal, the contestant must bob for the candies, getting them out with his mouth.  The first one to get all the candies out wins the point for his team.

            The next event, the Life-Saving Contest, is announced, and two representatives are chosen from each beach.  The two partners stand four or five paces apart, facing each other.  Give one side several Life-Saver candies, which they must toss, one at a time, to their partners.  The other side must catch them with their mouths.  The team which catches the most wins the point.

            For the last event, the Buried Treasure Race, one contestant is chosen from each group.  (Make sure that every person on each team has the chance to compete in at least one event.)  This could be the tie-breaking event!  A large box of sand is placed at one end of the room; the representatives line up at the other.  Twenty pennies are buried in the sand, ten for each team.  On a signal, the contestants race to the box, dig their ten pennies out with their hands, and race back.  The first one back with all ten pennies wins the final point for her team.  The beach with the most points on the board wins a team prize.

            After this, you  award a prize to the guest with the best beach outfit.  Then serve the refreshments, and turn the music up.  Guests may dance, if desired, or, after eating, you may show a video of an old beach movie.  If you choose to dance, a spontaneous dance contest–whether ’50’s style or the current craze–adds to the fun, and you may award a prize to the winning couple.

“Smile at each other, smile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other — it doesn’t matter who it is — and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other.”
(Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Albanian born Indian Missionary and Founder of the Order of the Missionaries of Charity. Nobel Prize for Peace in 1979. 1910-1997)

This is another portrait that I have shot last Sunday as I was walking near Lal ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
Then I met several kids and young men bathing in the holy waters and listening to the lectures of a priest sitting under a big umbrella.
When they saw me each asked for a picture and of course I was happy to make a few portraits that I promised to print and to deliver at the same place today.

“Soul receives from soul that knowledge,
therefore not by book nor from tongue.
If knowledge of mysteries come after
emptiness of mind, that is illumination of heart.”
(A poem by alal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – 1207–1273)

Last Sunday I was walking near Lal ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) and I met several kids and young men who were bathing and listening to the lectures of a priest sitting under a big umbrella.
When they saw me each asked for a picture and of course I was happy to make a few portraits that I promised to print and to deliver at the same place tomorrow morning…

“All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I’ll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I’m like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? 
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I’m going to say.
I don’t plan it.
When I’m outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.”
(“Whoever Brought Me Here” a poem by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – 1207–1273)

This picture was shot a few days ago along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).

This picture was shot a few days ago at Prayag ghat along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
I was watching this lady and I thought that whatever the sari can be it always gives a kind of radiance and a touch of dignity to women.
It is amazing that it is done by only a single straight length of cloth and yet it offers so much of variety provided by the fabrics, designs and colours.

Nai Sadak market is an amazing market in the center of Varanasi (Benaras) where most of the Muslims shopkeepers sell any kind of fabrics.
I always enjoy going there not only for some inspiration that I find for my work but also because this place allows my mind to travel with its fantastic touch of Orientalism.
It is a timeless bazaar where most of the people wear traditional garments, where so many colours, music and scents are mixing. 
This picture was shot there, those ladies who must belong to the same family were happy to find what they were looking for.
Their happiness attracted my camera.
Nai Sadak means “New Road”.

“Je veux une vie en forme d’arête (I want a fish bone shaped life)
Sur une assiette bleue (Lying on a blue plate)
Je veux une vie en forme de chose (I want a thingamajig shaped life)
Au fond d’un machin tout seul (In the deep bottom of a contraption)
Je veux une vie en forme de sable dans des mains (A hands-filled-with-sand shaped life)
En forme de pain vert ou de cruche (In form of green loaf or jug)
En forme de savate molle (In form of slabby slipper)
En forme de faridondaine (In form of faridondaine)
De ramoneur ou de lilas (Of chimney sweep or lilac)
De terre pleine de cailloux (Of ground filled with stones)
De coiffeur sauvage ou d’édredon fou (Of wild hairdresser Or besotted eiderdown)
Je veux une vie en forme de toi (I want a life in form of you)
Et je l’ai, mais ça ne me suffit pas encore (And I’ve got it, but it is still not enough)
Je ne suis jamais content (I’m never happy.)”
(“Je veux une vie en forme d’arrête” by Boris Vian, French writer, poet and musician,1920–1959)

Last afternoon I was walking along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras) as I wanted to cross the city.
On the way I took a few pictures, I can’t really explain why this poem by Boris Vian came to my mind, I guess I made an analogy with all those lines and colors or maybe there was something which unconsciously connected me to the surrealistic process by which the poet reformed existing patterns…

“Is it your face
that adorns the garden?
Is it your fragrance
that intoxicates this garden?
Is it your spirit
that has made this brook
a river of wine?

Hundreds have looked for you
and died searching
in this garden
where you hide behind the scenes.

But this pain is not for those
who come as lovers.
You are easy to find here.
You are in the breeze
and in this river of wine.”

(Behind the Scenes, a Persian poem by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi, known as Jelaluddin Rumi – 1207–1273)

I took this picture of my friend Juliette Sushila last Sunday as we were walking on the ghats along the Ganges in Varanasi (Benaras).
It was one of the last summer days even though it was November.
That day she left for Paris and a kind of winter monsoon came.

Among several things my friend is running charity business with an hospital in the Indian state of Karnataka where she needs support.
www.donnonslavie.org/

CS PURAM- GEETA
Our neighbour was a driver in KSRTC, living in rented house.
His daughter Geeta was a dark, tall, slim girl, working in a shop at Palakad town. She has a younger brother, still in school when, we were there.
An offer came for her hand. The boy is handsome. His parents are well to do, both getting pension, in addition to their savings, a house in Thiruvanthapuram etc. They have only this son whom they want to entrust to a reliable loving girl.
At that point we had to go to Delhi. On our return, we brought Ammu, Sudha’s daughter Meghna, who was only two years old, as there was nobody to look after her, when the parents went to work.
 There was no such decision. We were inside the railway compartment. Damodaran and Sudha were on the platform. When my wife stretched her hands and called Ammu, she jumped into her hands; the train moved. So that was how she came in  our custody. As some wit put it, we bring babies into this world, jus to play with them!
I used to take her wherever I went, in the village. She never showed any sign of remembering her parents; but, when Damodaran and Sudha got into the autorickshaw on their return, after a brief vacation with us in the village, she went away with them, without once turning bach to look at us! My wife was on the point of tears.
One day Geeta came from Thiruvananthapuram. She looked serious. Her man was a spoilt child. After break fast, he goes away with his friends to roam about in the city. At noon, he comes back, takes rest and again, in the evening another outing, returning home after dinner in the restaurants.
Three times, she has to wash his cloths. Always, he goes in clean ironed cloths. Geeta is his washer woman.
An itching caused a nuisance to me. Nothing was visible. Thuppan told me it is caused by small mice. After observing my abdomen he confirmed it.
I went to a doctor, who gave me a medicine to be applied all over my body, for seveal days. No relief came except when it is applied.
Then I poured kerosine oil all over my body. My body became clean. I became fair, but the mice thrived.
Murugan told it comes from the river water. Several persons are victims, not myself alone. It was little consolation.
In March 2000, we came to see Leena’s baby and could not go back to CS Puram, as there was nobody to help her. My mice disappeared, without any reason. I was very much releaved.
The baby born on the auspicious day, when Ammathiruvady is brought to our ancestral home, on Makam of the month of Meenam,every year, was named Ananya.
Premchand, Leena’s father-in-law was also there. They stayed at their son Shishir’s house at Lajpatnagar, quite near to our place, and he woud come to see Ananya daily.
He was younger to me, very jolly, but suffering from diabetes and heart  trouble. Doctors at  AIIMS had recommended biopsy. I think a ring was inserted already.
At his instance I too joined the Yoga course, for ten days, provided by  the AIIMS, free of cost.
Of course, the classes were good, but of no use, unless we continue the practice during our life time. This is not practicable. A proper study to determine the efficacy of the system, I believe, has not been conducted. The pulse rate comes down. That is because we remain in a detached atmosphere, free from normal tensions. The same experience can be had, when we pray at a temple or  church etc.
In the library attached to the Yoga cell, I came across a remarkable book titled POWER HEALING by Dr. Leo Galland. He is a normal allopathic doctor, who examines those cases, where doctors are unable to find out the root cause and fail. He has recorded a number of  strange cases. In one case, doctors treated a patient for heart attack who died after repeated attacks. His investigation revealed that, the patient died of carbon monoxide poisoning. The deceased was working in an old cellar, peeling off plaster, under which the poisonous gas had accumulated, over a long time, in some pockets. THE POISON CAUSED THE SYMPTOMS OF HEART ATTACK.
Another case was a young girl whose skin was extremely dry. She was a schizophrenic patient. Seeig her skin, the doctor told her to take cod liver oil, which contans omega 3 fatty acids. AFTER SOME SIX MONTHS, SHE RETURNED TO GIVE HIM THANKS. She was cured of her mental condition. Now this oil is given routinely to all mental patients in England, I read in the news paper.

Download AI URL: http://www.imgcapture.com/?p=823

Material description:

This is a very festive and exciting design material. Colorful petals and fashion pattern exudes the Christmas festive atmosphere. Happy, happiness, excited. The design is a festive atmosphere material

God Loves Ugly

Hørte denne plata hos en kompis i høst. Ganske morsom stemme over litt melankolish beats. Et par av låtene er absolutt i toppklasse. Men noen som er veldig kjedelige også. Tatt med noen klipp fra Youtube nederst. Ellers anbefaler jeg å sjekke ut Last.FM og Allmusic for mer.

Det ligger også veldig mye spennende på “Similar Artists“. Hatt en periode med utforsking av lignende musikk. Spesielt kanskje Aesop Rock.

Coming straight outta the rough’n'tumble surroundings of Minneapolis/St. Paul, the Rhymesayers clique is slowly but surely putting Minnesota on the hip-hop map. OK, so the frozen lands that gave listeners Prince and Morris Day & the Time may seem like a fairly unlikely setting for the next hip-hop hotbed, but you can’t deny the talent the area’s been bringing to the table

Lenker

Artistside Allmusic / Last.FM

Litt fra Youtube

//Adam Dumper, aka Dumperfoo
For Booking NOVACANCYBOOKING. COM
is a community leader in the Arizona Hip Hop, Art, and Social scene. Having been involved in promotions in Arizona since 1990, beginning at the Grind Night Club. Dumper began as an after-hours DJ and Mural artist there. For a few years Dumper did freelance graphics and logo work for such artists Vanilla Ice, Sugar Ray, Everlast, The Headquarters, Zulu Nation, Hip Step Massive, XIS, and many more from punk rock to hip hop.

Concentrating on his graphic and live painting Dumper hit the Music circuit hard performing and promoting at numerous events from Raves to Concerts in the mid to late 90’s.

In 2002 Dumper teamed up with Keith Nichols, Emerg McVay, Hyder, Catalyst and friends to start his new venture, The Blunt Club. For the past years the Blunt Club has been Arizona’s Hip Hop church, hosting nearly every local live painter, poet, mc, dj, fashion designer, and beyond, supporting the artistic community in a multidimensional format.  The Blunt Club has since been named one of the top “101 hot spots in the U.S” by Spin magazine, as well as AZ’s “Best Hip Hop Night 2003-2006″ by Phoenix New Times and 944 magazine.

In 2003 Dumper founded with Baron Gordon, the Alpha Monster Art Collective, consisting of over 20 members globally. The collective’s goals are to advance each artist, business wise and ethically, give back to the community.Currently Dumper and the Alpha Monster’s perform all over the USA traveling and doing gallery events, to hip hop shows & Festivals , every final Friday at Club 909, First Friday’s downtown at the UM Gallery , and every Thursday at the Blunt Club In Tempe AZ . In 2003 Dumper joined forces becoming a resident artist with the So Cal collective, theAbstract Workshop. In 2005, Dumperfoo has since become a resident artist traveling out to paint live once a month at Abstract Workshop’s major events.

Recently Dumper joined the Pacific Art Collective, and doing gallery shows from San Jose, to Seattle, back to L.A. You can catch Dumper live every Thursday at The Blunt Club in Mesa, AZ or you might just see his paintings hanging in a studio or home near you. You can also check him out at
www.myspace.com/dumperfoo.

More On Dumperfoo:
I’ve painted onstage with at one time or several times..
HAIKU DE TAT, ABSTRACT WORKSHOP COLLECTIVE , TALIB KWELI , SCRATCH , AESOP ROCK & LIF , CROWN CITY ROCKERS , MF DOOM , AFRICA BAMBAATAA , HIERO , SOULS OF MISCHIEF , SAGE FRANCIS , ATMOSPHERE , MR. DIBBS , GRAYSKULL , SCRIBBLE JAM , J.BOOGIE , ANTEDOTE, JOSH MARTINEZ , SLEEP, 2MEX, SHAPESHIFTERS, DULOK, EYERIS ONE, GRIFFIN ONE, STACKS MALONE, BUKUE, UNIFIED SCHOOL DIST, DJ QUEST, Z-MAN, SACRED HOOP, TREK-LIFE, ONE SELF, DJ SAMMY B (JUNGLE BROTHERS), DJ DREZ, Z-TRIP, RADAR, ELEMENT, SANTOS, SCOTTY COATS, DJ COCOE, REBIRTH, DEEP ROOTED, ANTEDOTE, DIGABLE PLANETS, LIVING LEGENDS, HEIRO, ZION I, SCARUB, DJ NEIL ARMSTRONG, ROB SWIFT, ILL INSANITY, SNOOP DOGG, PUBLIC ENEMY, WILDCHILD, PSYCHO REALM, MISTH FAB, ZION I, edIT, BASSNECTAR, PERCEE P, KIDZ IN THE HALL, B.DOLAN, XCLAN, MEDUSA, CUT CHEMIST, BLACK SHAKESPEAR, DJ SHORTKUT, CHICHARONES, & Many , Many , More

FESTIVALS : ROCK THE BELLS (San Bernadino CA. & Concord CA, UM Booth) SCRIBBLE JAM (Um Booth) COMIC CON INT. after parties 2001-2009 (San Diego) , GOOD TIMES FESTIVAL 2007, 2009, EASTER MOON, GEM & JAM, SPEAK YOUR MIND INVASION.

Gallery

….and of course I have my own Dumperfoo piece !!!

THEME:  History, with a twist    

"Fourscore and seven years ago . . ."

INVITATIONS:  Write in longhand on parchment and roll in a scroll, sealing with wax or an official-looking sticker.  The idea is to make it look like a historical document.  Use officious language, such as:  “When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to find some diversion unrelated to that which has been our wont, we, (host and friends), have hit upon a plan which we believe will provide well beyond the required amusement.  Therefore, we hereby announce the Hysterical History Party, to be held on (date) at (time and place), to which you are most cordially invited.  Whereas this event is in celebration of history, we respectfully request your person to be attired in full regalia of any historic person of note.”  (And so on, and so forth . . .  get the idea?)

     This party works well for college students and adults.

MATERIALS FOR ACTIVITIES:  Random props from famous tales from history, such as hatchet, old flag, lanterns, toy rifle, etc. (or you may prefer to let them pantomime their props); equipment to play folk games from history in ours or other lands; words and music to old folk songs, both foreign and domestic.

FOOD:  Famous foods from history will do here.  Search old cookbooks or history books for ideas.  You could do a whole formal dinner or just have desserts.  Some suggestions might be Cherry Pie, Lincoln Log, Lindy’s Cake, or Sweet Potato Pie.  This is where some actual learning might come in!

DECORATIONS:  Decorate the party room with anything that looks historical–antiques or pseudo-antiques, flags from different countries or items significant to the history of ours or other countries.  You could use tapestries, Native American blankets, Japanese lanterns, African masks, or other curios.  Some fake cobwebs leftover from Halloween could make the stuff look really old.

 BLOW-BY-BLOW:          As guests arrive, you (the host/hostess) have them play an icebreaker game similar to “Who Am I?“.  As they mingle, they ask yes-or-no questions of each other to detect which historical figure each person represents.  When everyone is acquainted–historically speaking–seat them for the dinner.  If not doing a dinner, begin the activities by dividing the guests into several groups and giving each group an assignment to reenact a famous historical event.  You may give them props, if desired, but ask them to act out the story as they think it might have really happened!  (The emphasis is on humor here.)  Give each group about ten minutes to plan their skit, and then–lights, camera, action!  (Actually, making a videotape of this is not a bad idea.)

            After the rewriting of history, you may wish to play some old folk games from ours and other lands.  (Look for some in future posts on this blog, or you may want to do some research at your local library.) 

            Cool off with some refreshments, and finish the evening by singing some old folk songs, accompanied by piano or guitar, if possible.

Vanilla Twilight
Tuning: Standard EADGBe
Tabbed by: JJ..

yeah, my first tab, try this one...it can be played by two guitars, one leads, and
the other is the rythm,
just some tip, try listening for the note changes in the piano
part on how he changes from chord to chord,that's where you can base your strumming pattern...

Chords:
C    : x32010
G    : 3x0033
Am   : x02210
F    : 133211
Dm   : xx0231
G#/Am: 4x2210
F#/G : 2x0233
F7   : 133241
D    : xx0232
A    : x02220
Em   : 022033

C              G
The stars lean down to kiss you,
Am              F
And I lie awake and miss you,
C         G              Am            F
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere.
C                   G
Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly,
Am                 F
But I'll miss your arms around me
C           G                    Dm
I'll send a postcard to you dear,
             F
Cause I wish you were here.

C G Am F C G Dm F x2 (Play this along with the tabs below)

GUITAR  2

e|-----7-9-----7---11/12-11---9-7--|-----7-9--7--10/11--9p7------------|
B|-7-9-----7-9---9-----------------|-7-9--------------------9----------|
G|---------------------------------------------------------------------|
D|---------------------------------------------------------------------|
A|---------------------------------------------------------------------|
E|---------------------------------------------------------------------|

e|-------7-9------7---11/12-11---9-7--|-----7-9--7--10/11---7-9-----7--|
B|-6/7-9-----7-9----9-----------------|-7-9----------------9---9--7----|
G|---------------------------------------------------------------------|
D|---------------------------------------------------------------------|
A|---------------------------------------------------------------------|
E|---------------------------------------------------------------------|

C           G
I watch the night turn light blue,
Am                    F
But it's not the same without you,
C                G              Dm       F
Because it takes two to whisper quietly,
C                G
The silence isn't so bad,
Am                     F
Till I look at my hands and feel sad,
C                G
Cause the spaces between my fingers
Dm                         F
Are right where yours fit perfectly.
C         G
I'll find repose in new ways,
Am               F
Though I haven't slept in two days,
C          G                Dm             F
Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone.
C               G
But drenched in Vanilla twilight,
Am              F
I'll sit on the front porch all night,
C             G               Dm
Waist deep in thought because when I think of you.
F                     F C G
I don't feel so alone.
G                     Dm C F
I don't feel so alone.
G                     Dm C F
I don't feel so alone.
Am           G#/Am      G     F#/G     F      F7
As many times as I blink I'll think of you... tonight.
Em F G x4
I'll think of you tonight.

*KEY CHANGE*
D           A
When violet eyes get brighter,
Bm           G
And heavy wings grow lighter,
D              A            Em         G
I'll taste the sky and feel alive again.
D                   A
And I'll forget the world that I knew,
Bm                  G
But I swear I won't forget you,
D        A                     Em                 G
Oh if my voice could reach back through the past,
A
I'd whisper in your ear,
A
Oh darling I wish you were here.

D A Bm G D A Em G x4 until end including the GUITAR 2 part...

figure out for yourselves how to make transitions for sound effects XD

enjoy, and oh! thanks for Bob N. for the chords...

http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/0,1518,662092,00.html

Climatologists Baffled by Global Warming Time-Out, By Gerald Traufetter

“Global warming appears to have stalled. Climatologists are puzzled as to why average global temperatures have stopped rising over the last 10 years. Some attribute the trend to a lack of sunspots, while others explain it through ocean currents.”

“Otherwise, however, not much is happening with global warming at the moment. The Earth’s average temperatures have stopped climbing since the beginning of the millennium, and it even looks as though global warming could come to a standstill this year.”

“Ironically, climate change appears to have stalled in the run-up to the upcoming world summit in the Danish capital, where thousands of politicians, bureaucrats, scientists, business leaders and environmental activists plan to negotiate a reduction in greenhouse gas emissions. Billions of euros are at stake in the negotiations.”

This is a very inconvenient truth for the Gore/Gaia/GE/Obama crowd who expect to become billionaires from forcing legislation on this.  The computer models were wrong.  Gore was wrong.  We didn’t die in ten years and we’re not going to die in the next ten years.  The sincere chicken littles were duped and don’t need to run for cover.

Yet, there are still those politicians who intend to force this down our throats and clean out our bank accounts, while they remove our freedoms ten at a time.  Do everything you can to stop this.  Contact your elected officials today.

Le frère Ali revient cet automne avec un troisième opus, faisant suite à l’époustouflant The Undisputed Truth paru en avril 2007. Ce dernier essai reçut un succès unanime lors de sa sortie, propulsant ainsi le rappeur albinos au sommet du rap underground outre-Atlantique. Entre temps, il y eut la fournée The Truth Is Here, en mai dernier, censée préparer l’arrivée de ce nouvel album. L’EP composé de 9 titres laissait entrevoir une nouvelle vibe, moins voluptueuse qu’au préalable, mais tout aussi appréciée par la critique. Puis comment oublier cette collaboration miraculeuse (« The Truth ») entre Jake One, Freeway et Ali sur le White Van Music du producteur de Seattle, fin 2008 ? Autant de réussites qui présageaient le meilleur pour la sortie de ce Us, le 21 septembre dernier.

 Le meilleur… Il y avait tout de même un doute qui me pesait depuis la parution de ce troublant EP daté du 4 mai. La production, pourtant toujours signée Ant du groupe Atmosphere, semblait migrer vers un univers plus cuivré, et surtout nettement moins majestueux que sur The Undisputed Truth qui, je le rappelle, m’avait laissé pantois. Une gène rapidement (et malheureusement) confirmée par l’écoute de ce nouvel essai. Une gène qui s’est rapidement (et péniblement) transformée en déception. Pas simple d’un côté de faire mieux que ce deuxième opus, ô combien remarquable et remarqué. Seulement voilà, un artiste ne peut pas se permettre de rester bloqué sur un disque sous prétexte que c’est son œuvre de référence. Au lieu de s’entêter à vouloir la reproduire continuellement, son dessein est d’évoluer, de grandir, et de se développer musicalement. C’est en somme le pari que se sont lancés Ant et Brother Ali avant de confectionner cet album. Murir, s’ouvrir et se renouveler.

 Attention tout de même à ne pas vous y méprendre. N’imaginez pas qu’entre deux projets, le ‘preacher’ s’est convertit à l’auto-tune et à l’euro dance. Non non non ! Il s’agit seulement d’une évolution logique dans la façon d’aborder la musique. Et une chose est même certaine : d’un point de vue purement objectif, cette livraison est un nouveau joyau. Les critiques l’encensent et les magazines l’adulent. Suite à ce que je viens de dire, j’entends déjà les : « Mais alors, d’où te vient cette déception si la réussite de cet opus est unanime ? ». A ceux là je répondrais simplement : « Des beats ! ». Voilà, pour moi, l’unique (mais gros) défaut de ce disque, que je tiens vraiment à souligner. Comparées au précédent effort, certaines productions sont, non pas mauvaises, mais nettement moins mordantes. J’en veux pour preuve ces mollassons « Crown Jewel », « House Keys » et « Bad Mufucker Pt. 2 », mais également cette collaboration sans intérêt entre Ali, Freeway et Joell Ortiz (« Best@it »), qui n’arrive pas à la cheville d’un « Truth Is ». En somme, ces instrumentaux aigus et cuivrés sont, selon moi, inappropriés à Brother Ali. L’irritant « Games » en est l’exemple. Connaissant sa voix déjà haut perchée, les productions basses et profondes lui conviennent mieux.

 A ce titre, comment ne pas succomber à la beauté d’un « You Say (Puppy Love) » ou à la force d’un texte comme « The Travelers », traitant de l’esclavage avec une vérité et une émotion déconcertante. Dans le rôle du street « Preacher », Brother Ali est toujours le maitre incontesté. Ce n’est d’ailleurs pas un hasard si l’album devait initialement s’appeler ainsi. N’oublions pas que, malgré les critiques personnelles que j’ai assigné à certaines, les productions de Ant demeurent toujours angéliques dans la plupart des cas. A noter que des morceaux comme « Babygirl », « Tight Rope », « You Say (Puppy Love) » ou « Us » relèvent tout de même du miracle.

 En somme, cet album est la preuve que l’équation Brother Ali + Ant = réussite assurée, se vérifie (pratiquement) toujours. La parenthèse est pour ma pomme car, pour la première fois, le rappeur m’a déçu. Enfin, plutôt sa musique et ses choix artistiques devrais-je dire, car lui, en temps que MC d’exception, reste fidèle à lui-même. Dans tous les cas, Us apporte la certitude qu’en matière d’underground, le Hip Hop se porte bien. Avec en ses rangs des pointures comme Freeway, Atmosphere, Evidence, Jake One, Doom, P.O.S. et Brother Ali, Rhymesayers Entertainement est un label qui marche, et bon Dieu, pourvu que ça dure !

15 / 20

New England Aquarium. June 7, 2007.

When the blue comes, I’m sure I’ve phased out. This is the end of the final T-987 robot. Soon my thoughts will wither into meaningless, repetitive signals. But then my sensors flicker back into life and the air presses close around me, thick and sloshy.

This isn’t death, it’s an atmosphere. A dense one. Almost like water, but it can’t be. My chemical sensors know water like human nostrils know fresh baked apple pie. But there hasn’t been any apple pie for millenia, and no nostrils to smell it, either. I only know because of the robots before me, the ones the humans sent out, each with a pocket of DNA.

The first generation, the T-1s, didn’t make it far. Only out to Neptune, where they reassembled themselves into the T2s. The reassembly cost one or two their lives, and so did every reassembly thereafter. I am the lone child of a thousand ancestors, and along with their memories, I’ve carried my load of DNA safely through star systems unknown to planet Earth.

But this one will be the last. As I plunged to the surface, I could feel my sensors and fuel cells weakening. But I’m still alive, and I plan to complete my mission.

If only this were a water planet, I think as I struggle to eject the safe box in my belly. My joints are starting to corrode–I was built to withstand all the common planetary atmospheres, but this one is different. Something acidic and soupy. Not the ideal home for my Earth DNA.

Have I failed? The very last of the robots, farther out in the universe than its human makers could ever have hoped, and my mission is for nothing. My cargo will die, and so will I. I’ll be dissolved in this blue deathtrap.

That’s when I see them: shimmering bodies floating in the blue air. They are coming closer, strings like tentacles reaching as their capped bodies propel them, forward.

Jellyfish, report my Earth animal memory banks. Yes, that is what they look like, but it’s certainly not what they are. This isn’t an ocean, and these creatures seem to know that I’m here. In fact, they are wrapping me with their tentacles, but it doesn’t sting. It feels… better. Whatever they are doing, it’s stopping the corrosion!

My chemical sensors are spinning with confusion. It seems these creatures have evolved a special coating that protects themselves and others from the harsh atmosphere.

Then the tentacles reach inside for my DNA cargo. Do they know what it is? Do they have any idea what they’re doing?

Quietly, with such sparkling serenity it calms my spinning sensors, they coat the DNA with a protective shield, and release it.

Will it evolve? Will this planet someday be home to clear-coated creatures who bake a thing like apple pie?

I have no way of knowing, but thanks to the Shimmershields, as I’ve named my saviors, I may be around long enough to find out.

Coffee mug as big as my head holding delectable Gingerbread Latte

Sometimes I forget to practice what I preach, and begin to underestimate the delightful inspiration that can come from simply changing your setting and atmosphere.  Generally when I write, I am standing at my kitchen counter, lounging on the couch in the dead of night, or most popular walking on the treadmill.  But settings get stale, and so too does the inspiration to keep writing, because underneath it all, the mind is bored and seeking entertainment.

It’s a challenge to write in a crowded place such as a coffee shop. There are many contradictions – you have a warm drink at your side which is comforting. But there are other people all around you!  You have a table to yourself in the corner where there are no distractions and all you can do is sit and relax.  But it’s so noisy between the jazzy music and the people talking over it!  The reason, I think, why writers flock to coffee shops to write is because while the logical part of the brain is busy working out mediums in all these contradictions and challenged by the change of scenery, the inspired part of the brain is then left free to let the words flow.

So shall I share a few lines?

A snap of a whip and a shriek of terror, pain, ripped the air apart in flames.  As the smoke and blur dissipated, I pushed the thought from my mind that it was my voice screaming, my body in pain.  “How many of them were there?”  Whip.  Sting.  “How did you murder them?”  Whip.  Cry.  Rage.

I caught my breath, looking down upon myself.  My arms spread to each side in shackles against the wall where there was no escape, no shelter for my everlasting beauty.  Across my bare chest, crossing lines of blood where my skin had been torn apart.  Cross me.  Cross me, I said in my mind.  I can’t do it when I’m bound this way.

“There were eighteen.”  I whispered, lifting my gaze as high as could, holding my head as proud as I could manage.  “I drained the blood of eighteen women who came to me for comfort they couldn’t find elsewhere.”  I wanted to confess what I had done.  It made me powerful.  “What is your name, samurai?  I believe I trained with you once.”

Somewhere, and lightly, I had touched him.  “Takayama.”  He lowered the whip as if his arm would give me rest.

I smirked though every inch of me burned.  “Yes, I trained with you.  I offered you my comfort as well, and you took it.  You took it with such earnest I could have sworn you had fallen in love with me that night.”

A slap to my cheek, I was used to it, it was nothing to me, and I laughed as I spat the blood from my mouth.  “Do you have no defense for yourself?”  The samurai asked me.

“None what so ever.”

Arrest in Edo (now Tokyo) was a brutal ordeal, and this is one scene from Seishin’s arrest.  It would consist of the accused being dragged through the public streets in humiliation, then thrown into a crowded jailhouse and tortured until confession.  After the confession came the purification, and usually, death. Shinto was a rebel religion.

“I know you even under the skin”.
(Persius, Roman poet – Volterra, 34-62)

It was last Sunday at Lal ghat in Varanasi (Benaras), this young man took a bath in the holy waters of the Ganges and washed himself.
After that he treated several parts of his body with pressure, mostly his joints.
He used Ayurveda which is a natural health care system that incorporates massage.