Olive Loves Popeye

Thursday, June 7, 2001

Dear Carolyn,

I wish I could answer your question about meditation. I also find myself unable to spend any time in meditation and sipping from the ever-flowing spring of nectar which gushes forth from Shiva's head, but hey, I never much liked drinking from someone's dreadlocks anyway.

I do think that to every thing, turn, turn, turn, there is a season etc. That is to say I think that provided I keep the fundamental things in mind (life is carnal illusion, desire is suffering, ego is fantasy, olive loves popeye) I can just take it for a given that I can't meditate just now. All things must pass. And so on. This is a Sufi notion as well, we construct the scaffolding of our belief from the materials available to us AT THE TIME; we must just try to avoid becoming attached to any particular edifice when it is time to move on. Make sense?

Presumably there will come a time, if not in this incarnation, in the next when this soul shall dedicate itself to endless contemplation of the godhead and not be distracted by mundane considerations. It is liberating in the extreme to consider that there is really no hurry as long as I don't bitch when I have to go through this mess again because I was too lazy to resolve it this time around.

Oh, blah blah blah. You ask why, if Berlin is so great, I will return to Italy? Well, this is just a matter of prior commitments, work wise. It becomes ever clearer that this is a dynamic city full of possibilities, resources, opportunities and that I like it in spite of the weather. Why, just the other day I was in an absurdly well-equipped public library. After the deserts of Brussels and the non existence of such resources in Athens, you can understand why I was enthralled. How long since I have been able to have access to information or reading material without purchasing it myself!

I close now. Having come to the conclusion that brevity is the core of things in this medium, I go ahead and rattle on anyway.

Reading from a computer is like eating at McDonald's, the memory fades almost immediately upon consumption, often before.

Blaine, the Dark Sun Goth Biker

[caption id="attachment_1619" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="dark sun club, athens"][/caption]

Sunday, 23 Jan. 2000 (from an e-mail to Lee Self, fellow Elvisian ambassador)Yo lee, in the wind, bro,

Yeah, I am a biker now. I am an easy rider. Gots muh motorcyle helment, muh motorcycle gloves, muh peed pants to testify to the fear. It is quick though, we get back here in about 15 minutes after work and there in a half hour as opposed to the 2 hour hellride back on the bus or smelly bouzouki infested apeman taxi rides. We are talking about a real motorcy---kuhl. (remember arlo gurthrie song, dumb one

 i don' wanna die jus' wann ride my motor sigh........ kuhl.

I am in the wind with Panos the keyboard player from the show. He is a good guy, a bit serious. His pose can be bypassed by careful applications of guido humor. Dresses in black. So do I for that matter. The motorcy in question is fairly dangerous looking. It ain't all that powerful but it's designed to look like Satan's own ride, Jap model called "THE ELIMINATOR" BLACK, of course. A goth bike. Makes me feel so relaxed. He is also a good and inventive keyboard player. We have jammed a couple of times. He has a Trinity...he po like me. One guy who looks at my gear and drools with envy. Wow. Most tecchie guys, as you know, turn up the nose at my old fussy cranky stuff. The sound system for the show consists of two guitar amps, one for the keyboards, one for my fiddle and voice. I have the microphone gated all to hell and back because the room is as live as Milano central station and feedback is my enemy. I am using my gear fussy, cranky etc., and getting a good sound is no small task. Gots my old compressor limiter, an Akai mini rack thing and my Roland mini rack echo pitch shifter and my BOSS pedal reverb for the voice. I admit there is a pride in doing good sound working against the limitations of cheap gear. A garage prole reverse snob pride. "WE DON' NEED NO STEENKING PA SYSTEM, MOTHAFUCKAH!!!!"

Last night was Saturday night, a big big deal in this town. I went out with Panagiotis (whom I call 'the motorcyle boy' or Sri Guru Easy Rider since he teaches me how to sit on a bike without falling off). We went to a bar called 'Dark Sun" frequented by people who wear black. People with many body piercings, where they play 'dark wave' music. It was most amusing. I actually felt I belonged there. I am looked upon here as a sort of elder statesman by these people anyway. The women are amazing young gorgeous things dressed in skintight black SM gear and dog collars and all of that, trying to look hazardous. As I have told you, this country is blessed with copious quantities of gorgeous young females all tight and fresh and capable of inducing seizures of lust in an old git like me. I was always a sucker for vampire looking women, even back in the punk days, hell especially in the punk days. Lest we forget, JJ's original image was pretty punky when we met. But Morticia lookalikes always got me going. Of course this is morticia after she's been to Frederick's of Hollywood. I went there thinking how tired I was of sexual overindulgence and I was too fried to look on women with lust then we got there. Jesus. These women just dance standing in place all skin tight and blacksheathed and gorgeously aloof...

 drool, slobber pant pant pant..........

Great free entertainment. Why pay stripper club prices when they's little goth women a' dancin' fer free, jus a wigglin' and a twisting and writhing all leather and etc.....calm down big boy. Ain't yore wang done landed you in enough mess awreddy? This is where Panos the motorcycle boy likes to hang. His money is no good there, drinks are on the house. Since I only ever drink club soda at bars (no diet coke ever, I'm a cheap date. Got to know the bartendress who is also gorgeous, was wearing a Pink wig, glitter eyes, rubber teddy over long black dress. Arggh.......

 'Saturday night's all right all right all right woo ooo ooo ooo ooo....' reg. dwight

I Am a DJ

11:17 AM 17-Dec-99
I just got in from a' DJin' at a local watering hole. I like this DJ thing. Play cd's and get paid for it. Not quite as good as the radio, but it is fun expressing oneself by means of other people's music. The usual eclectic mix, all up and down and around the musical globe. I played some 'Bollywood' soundtrack music which I am liking muchly lately. Of course, there is the usual lounge electro stuff which I also like muchly and lots of britpop Bowie type stuff which really get me goin'. Barry White. Pizzicato 5. Barry Adamson. Plenty o' Blaine and a bit of Tuxmoon. I personally hate how dj's have taken over the musician lexicon. they have no fucking right calling their bit on the podium a 'set' or the job of the night a 'gig' or really to say they have 'played'. I think the public there appreciated the sort of stuff I played. I gots lots o' weirdness and they don't usually get that in their sort of bar.

 I AM A DJ, I AM WHAT I PLAY CAN'T TURN AROUND NO, CAN'T TURN AROUND' 

Whoa, glad Bowie got over whatever was troubling him when he thought this was worth writing down and singing. I must sleep.

 'OOH, I HAVE A GIRL OUT THERE. I GUESS SHE'S DANCING... what do I know?'

catchy tune. caint get it outta my haid. Just about all of the musos I know, or lots of them anyway have had to at least come to terms with DJism. Peter, me, Sammy Birnbach from Minimal Compact, Lots of guys, Boy George, fer chrissake. Nice work if you kin git it, actually. Also, this morn. I got an e-mail from 'elvis' the propietor of the Heathen World page. He knows about Tuxmo, he will link to my site. This is a first. I am pleased. More to come, oh gentle, tender, succulent reader mine. If you truly exist.