i'm emersed in stone song the crazy horse biography, what an amazing story, half way through there's a scene where the indians are talking about the white skins, its amazing writing,
'They have a blindness, they do not understand choice.'
He is referring to a sacred subject, and none of his hearers needed any explanation- no Lakota who had even started the path to adulthood did. A human being had skan, something that moves, spiritual vitality. The force of life itself gave the person skan when he or she is born. It also gave him choice, and through choice he or she grew into the man or woman they become. Skan was the motive power, choice was the direction.
A Lakota had a choice between good and evil, the red road and the black road, between what makes life beautiful and what makes it ugly. He or she had help from the spirit voice the quiet voice inside them, the spirit helper (usually an animal) what they saw when crying for a vision, personal medicine, prayer, ceremonies preformed alone or in community, choice remained inviolate.
No matter your way, the other Lakota would respect it, none would try to influence you, it was yours, your essence and sacred choice.
All this was fundamental to not even need saying. So what did it mean when an entire people did not understand choice?
It was unthinkable. Where they even human beings?
'Amongst the whites some think they can choose for others.' It was so stunning that Spotted Tail just let the words hang in the lodge heavy and oppressive. 'Then comes what you would expect, they quarrel with one another. They fight and kill one another, instead of respecting another mans way.'
'They hate our way' said Spotted Tail, his voice weary and faint, Their deepest desire is to change our way, to change our way of living and make us like them. I swear it.'
Tasunke coughed. Spotted Tail understood that he was voicing everyones horror. Why would anyone do such a thing? No Lakota would commit this sort of murder of spirit.
This is powerful writing, the book is filled with amazing information and insights into the Lakota ways and i feel incredibly drawn towards them.
Many people philosophize as to what is wrong with america, what's wrong with it is it has severed its esoteric root.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
ha! the nsw govt. is imploding, its just buisness as usual under the spotlight, hardly news yet for some reason the media are focused on the inept Iemma govt. however nothing will change, sure a few heads will roll but fundamentally things stay the same.
i spent a day in the city searching for a few good books, picked up stone song the biography of crazy horse, an amazing story and beautifully written. i have always had a romance for the indians as opposed to the cowboys, cowboys were the charachters that lacked any mysticsm, whereas those indians lived their lives as warriors and danced in many worlds. how could they not hold my attention.
i spent a day in the city searching for a few good books, picked up stone song the biography of crazy horse, an amazing story and beautifully written. i have always had a romance for the indians as opposed to the cowboys, cowboys were the charachters that lacked any mysticsm, whereas those indians lived their lives as warriors and danced in many worlds. how could they not hold my attention.
Friday, February 15, 2008
to much monkey buisness
Once upon a time in a village, a man appeared and announced to the
villagers that he would buy monkeys for £10 each. The villagers seeing
that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest, and started
catching them.
The man bought thousands at £10 and as supply started to diminish, the
villagers stopped their effort. He further announced that he would now
buy at £20. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started
catching monkeys again.
Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to
their farms.
The offer increased to £25 each and the supply of monkeys became so
little that it was an effort to even see a monkey, let alone catch it!
The man now announced that he would buy monkeys at £50 however, since he
had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy on
behalf of him.
In the absence of the man, the assistant told the villagers 'Look at all
these monkeys in the big cage that the man has collected. I will sell
them to you at £35 and when the man returns from the city, you can sell
them to him for £50 each.' The villagers rounded up all their savings
and bought all the monkeys.
Then they never saw the man nor his assistant, only monkeys everywhere!
Now you have a better understanding of how the stock market works.
Once upon a time in a village, a man appeared and announced to the
villagers that he would buy monkeys for £10 each. The villagers seeing
that there were many monkeys around, went out to the forest, and started
catching them.
The man bought thousands at £10 and as supply started to diminish, the
villagers stopped their effort. He further announced that he would now
buy at £20. This renewed the efforts of the villagers and they started
catching monkeys again.
Soon the supply diminished even further and people started going back to
their farms.
The offer increased to £25 each and the supply of monkeys became so
little that it was an effort to even see a monkey, let alone catch it!
The man now announced that he would buy monkeys at £50 however, since he
had to go to the city on some business, his assistant would now buy on
behalf of him.
In the absence of the man, the assistant told the villagers 'Look at all
these monkeys in the big cage that the man has collected. I will sell
them to you at £35 and when the man returns from the city, you can sell
them to him for £50 each.' The villagers rounded up all their savings
and bought all the monkeys.
Then they never saw the man nor his assistant, only monkeys everywhere!
Now you have a better understanding of how the stock market works.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
i found this article on the net somewhere its by Brooke Goldstein, and think its pretty important.
Award-winning author Mark Steyn has been summoned to appear before two Canadian Human Rights Commissions on vague allegations of "subject[ing] Canadian Muslims to hatred and contempt" and being "flagrantly Islamophobic" after Maclean's magazine published an excerpt from his book, America Alone.
The public inquisition of Steyn has triggered outrage among Canadians and Americans who value free speech, but it should not come as a surprise. Steyn's predicament is just the latest salvo in a campaign of legal actions designed to punish and silence the voices of anyone who speaks out against Islamism, Islamic terrorism, or its sources of financing.
The Canadian Islamic Congress (CIC), which initiated the complaint against Steyn, has previously tried unsuccessfully to sue publications it disagrees with, including Canada's National Post. The not-for-profit organization's president, Mohamed Elmasry, once labeled every adult Jew in Israel a legitimate target for terrorists and is in the habit of accusing his opponents of anti-Islamism -- a charge that is now apparently an actionable claim in Canada. In 2006, after Elmasry publicly accused a spokesman for the Muslim Canadian Congress of being anti-Islamic, the spokesman reportedly resigned amidst fears for his personal safety.
The Islamist movement has two wings -- one violent and one lawful -- which operate apart but often reinforce each other. While the violent arm attempts to silence speech by burning cars when cartoons of Mohammed are published, the lawful arm is maneuvering within Western legal systems.
Islamists with financial means have launched a legal jihad, manipulating democratic court systems to suppress freedom of expression, abolish public discourse critical of Islam, and establish principles of Sharia law. The practice, called "lawfare," is often predatory, filed without a serious expectation of winning and undertaken as a means to intimidate and bankrupt defendants.
Forum shopping, whereby plaintiffs bring actions in jurisdictions most likely to rule in their favor, has enabled a wave of "libel tourism" that has resulted in foreign judgments against European and now American authors mandating the destruction of American-authored literary material.
At the time of her death in 2006, noted Italian author Orianna Fallaci was being sued in France, Italy, Switzerland, and other jurisdictions, by groups dedicated to preventing the dissemination of her work. With its "human rights" commissions, Canada joins the list of countries, including France and the United Kingdom, whose laws are being used to attack the free speech rights and due process protections afforded American citizens.
A MAJOR PLAYER on this front is Khalid bin Mahfouz, a wealthy Egyptian who resides in Saudi Arabia. Mahfouz has sued or threatened to sue more than 30 publishers and authors in British courts, including several Americans, whose written works have linked him to terrorist entities. A notable libel tourist, Mahfouz has taken advantage of the UK's plaintiff-friendly libel laws to restrict the dissemination of written material that draws attention to Saudi-funded terrorism.
Faced with the prospect of protracted and expensive litigation, and regardless of the merit of the works, most authors and publishers targeted have issued apologies and retractions, while some have paid fines and "contributions" to Mahfouz's charities. When Mahfouz threatened Cambridge Press with a lawsuit for publishing Alms for Jihad by American authors Robert Collins and J. Millard Burr, the publisher immediately capitulated, offered a public apology to Mahfouz, pulped the unsold copies of the book, and took it out of print.
Shortly after the publication of Funding Evil in the United States, Mahfouz sued its author, anti-terrorism analyst and director of the American Center for Democracy, Dr. Rachel Ehrenfeld, for alleging financial ties between wealthy Saudis, including Mahfouz, and terrorist entities such as al Qaeda. The allegations against Ehrenfeld were heard by the UK court despite the fact that neither Mahfouz nor Ehrenfeld resides in England and merely because approximately 23 copies of Funding Evil were sold online to UK buyers via Amazon.com.
Unwilling to travel to England or acknowledge the authority of English libel laws over herself and her work, Ehrenfeld lost on default and was ordered to pay heavy fines, apologize, and destroy her books -- all of which she has refused to do. Instead, Ehrenfeld counter-sued Mahfouz in a New York State court seeking to have the foreign judgment declared unenforceable in the United States.
Ironically, Ehrenfeld lost her case against Mahfouz, because the New York court ruled it lacked jurisdiction over the Saudi resident who, the court said, did not have sufficient connections to the state. Shortly afterwards the Association of American Publishers released a statement that criticized the ruling as a blow to intellectual freedom and "a deep disappointment for publishers and other First Amendment advocates."
The litany of American publishers, television stations, authors, journalists, experts, activists, political figures, and citizens targeted for censorship is long and merits brief mention. There is an obvious pattern to these suits that can only be ignored at great peril. And we must expect future litigation along these lines:
* Joe Kaufman, chairman of Americans Against Hate, was served with a temporary restraining order and sued for leading a peaceful and lawful ten person protest against the Islamic Circle of North America (ICNA) outside an event the group sponsored at a Six Flags theme park in Texas. According to ICNA's website, the group is dedicated to "working for the establishment of Islam in all spheres of life," and to "reforming society at large." The complaint included seven Dallas-area plaintiffs who had never been previously mentioned by Kaufman, nor been present at the theme park. Litigation is ongoing.
* The Council on American Islamic Relations (CAIR) sued Andrew Whitehead, an American activist, for $1.3 million for founding and maintaining the website Anti-CAIR-net.org, on which he lists CAIR as an Islamist organization with ties to terrorist groups. After CAIR refused Whitehead's discovery requests, seemingly afraid of what internal documents the legal process it had initiated would reveal, the lawsuit was dismissed by the court with prejudice.
* CAIR also sued Cass Ballenger for $2 million after the then-U.S. Congressman said in a 2003 interview with the Charlotte Observer that the group was a "fundraising arm for Hezbollah" that he had reported as such to the FBI and CIA. Fortunately, the judge ruled that Ballenger's statements were made in the scope of his public duties and were protected speech.
* A Muslim police officer is suing former CIA official and counterterrorism consultant Bruce Tefft and the New York Police Department for workplace harassment merely because Tefft sent emails with relevant news stories about Islamic terrorism to a voluntary list of recipients that included police officers.
THESE SUITS REPRESENT a direct and real threat to our constitutional rights and national security. Even if the lawsuits don't succeed, the continued use of lawfare tactics by Islamist organizations has the potential to create a detrimental chilling effect on public discourse and information concerning the war on terror.
Already, publishers have canceled books on the subject of counterterrorism and no doubt other journalists and authors have self-censored due to the looming threat of suit. For its part, CAIR announced an ambitious fundraising goal of $1 million, partly to "defend against defamatory attacks on Muslims and Islam." One of CAIR's staffers, Rabiah Ahmed, bragged that lawsuits are increasingly an "instrument" for it to use.
U.S. courts have not yet grasped the importance of rebuffing international attempts to restrain the free speech rights of American citizens.
This is troubling. The United States was founded on the premise of freedom of worship, but also on the principle of the freedom to criticize religion. Islamists should not be allowed to stifle constitutionally protected speech, nor should they be allowed to subject innocent citizens who talk to other citizens about issues of national security to frivolous and costly lawsuits.
Award-winning author Mark Steyn has been summoned to appear before two Canadian Human Rights Commissions on vague allegations of "subject[ing] Canadian Muslims to hatred and contempt" and being "flagrantly Islamophobic" after Maclean's magazine published an excerpt from his book, America Alone.
The public inquisition of Steyn has triggered outrage among Canadians and Americans who value free speech, but it should not come as a surprise. Steyn's predicament is just the latest salvo in a campaign of legal actions designed to punish and silence the voices of anyone who speaks out against Islamism, Islamic terrorism, or its sources of financing.
The Canadian Islamic Congress (CIC), which initiated the complaint against Steyn, has previously tried unsuccessfully to sue publications it disagrees with, including Canada's National Post. The not-for-profit organization's president, Mohamed Elmasry, once labeled every adult Jew in Israel a legitimate target for terrorists and is in the habit of accusing his opponents of anti-Islamism -- a charge that is now apparently an actionable claim in Canada. In 2006, after Elmasry publicly accused a spokesman for the Muslim Canadian Congress of being anti-Islamic, the spokesman reportedly resigned amidst fears for his personal safety.
The Islamist movement has two wings -- one violent and one lawful -- which operate apart but often reinforce each other. While the violent arm attempts to silence speech by burning cars when cartoons of Mohammed are published, the lawful arm is maneuvering within Western legal systems.
Islamists with financial means have launched a legal jihad, manipulating democratic court systems to suppress freedom of expression, abolish public discourse critical of Islam, and establish principles of Sharia law. The practice, called "lawfare," is often predatory, filed without a serious expectation of winning and undertaken as a means to intimidate and bankrupt defendants.
Forum shopping, whereby plaintiffs bring actions in jurisdictions most likely to rule in their favor, has enabled a wave of "libel tourism" that has resulted in foreign judgments against European and now American authors mandating the destruction of American-authored literary material.
At the time of her death in 2006, noted Italian author Orianna Fallaci was being sued in France, Italy, Switzerland, and other jurisdictions, by groups dedicated to preventing the dissemination of her work. With its "human rights" commissions, Canada joins the list of countries, including France and the United Kingdom, whose laws are being used to attack the free speech rights and due process protections afforded American citizens.
A MAJOR PLAYER on this front is Khalid bin Mahfouz, a wealthy Egyptian who resides in Saudi Arabia. Mahfouz has sued or threatened to sue more than 30 publishers and authors in British courts, including several Americans, whose written works have linked him to terrorist entities. A notable libel tourist, Mahfouz has taken advantage of the UK's plaintiff-friendly libel laws to restrict the dissemination of written material that draws attention to Saudi-funded terrorism.
Faced with the prospect of protracted and expensive litigation, and regardless of the merit of the works, most authors and publishers targeted have issued apologies and retractions, while some have paid fines and "contributions" to Mahfouz's charities. When Mahfouz threatened Cambridge Press with a lawsuit for publishing Alms for Jihad by American authors Robert Collins and J. Millard Burr, the publisher immediately capitulated, offered a public apology to Mahfouz, pulped the unsold copies of the book, and took it out of print.
Shortly after the publication of Funding Evil in the United States, Mahfouz sued its author, anti-terrorism analyst and director of the American Center for Democracy, Dr. Rachel Ehrenfeld, for alleging financial ties between wealthy Saudis, including Mahfouz, and terrorist entities such as al Qaeda. The allegations against Ehrenfeld were heard by the UK court despite the fact that neither Mahfouz nor Ehrenfeld resides in England and merely because approximately 23 copies of Funding Evil were sold online to UK buyers via Amazon.com.
Unwilling to travel to England or acknowledge the authority of English libel laws over herself and her work, Ehrenfeld lost on default and was ordered to pay heavy fines, apologize, and destroy her books -- all of which she has refused to do. Instead, Ehrenfeld counter-sued Mahfouz in a New York State court seeking to have the foreign judgment declared unenforceable in the United States.
Ironically, Ehrenfeld lost her case against Mahfouz, because the New York court ruled it lacked jurisdiction over the Saudi resident who, the court said, did not have sufficient connections to the state. Shortly afterwards the Association of American Publishers released a statement that criticized the ruling as a blow to intellectual freedom and "a deep disappointment for publishers and other First Amendment advocates."
The litany of American publishers, television stations, authors, journalists, experts, activists, political figures, and citizens targeted for censorship is long and merits brief mention. There is an obvious pattern to these suits that can only be ignored at great peril. And we must expect future litigation along these lines:
* Joe Kaufman, chairman of Americans Against Hate, was served with a temporary restraining order and sued for leading a peaceful and lawful ten person protest against the Islamic Circle of North America (ICNA) outside an event the group sponsored at a Six Flags theme park in Texas. According to ICNA's website, the group is dedicated to "working for the establishment of Islam in all spheres of life," and to "reforming society at large." The complaint included seven Dallas-area plaintiffs who had never been previously mentioned by Kaufman, nor been present at the theme park. Litigation is ongoing.
* The Council on American Islamic Relations (CAIR) sued Andrew Whitehead, an American activist, for $1.3 million for founding and maintaining the website Anti-CAIR-net.org, on which he lists CAIR as an Islamist organization with ties to terrorist groups. After CAIR refused Whitehead's discovery requests, seemingly afraid of what internal documents the legal process it had initiated would reveal, the lawsuit was dismissed by the court with prejudice.
* CAIR also sued Cass Ballenger for $2 million after the then-U.S. Congressman said in a 2003 interview with the Charlotte Observer that the group was a "fundraising arm for Hezbollah" that he had reported as such to the FBI and CIA. Fortunately, the judge ruled that Ballenger's statements were made in the scope of his public duties and were protected speech.
* A Muslim police officer is suing former CIA official and counterterrorism consultant Bruce Tefft and the New York Police Department for workplace harassment merely because Tefft sent emails with relevant news stories about Islamic terrorism to a voluntary list of recipients that included police officers.
THESE SUITS REPRESENT a direct and real threat to our constitutional rights and national security. Even if the lawsuits don't succeed, the continued use of lawfare tactics by Islamist organizations has the potential to create a detrimental chilling effect on public discourse and information concerning the war on terror.
Already, publishers have canceled books on the subject of counterterrorism and no doubt other journalists and authors have self-censored due to the looming threat of suit. For its part, CAIR announced an ambitious fundraising goal of $1 million, partly to "defend against defamatory attacks on Muslims and Islam." One of CAIR's staffers, Rabiah Ahmed, bragged that lawsuits are increasingly an "instrument" for it to use.
U.S. courts have not yet grasped the importance of rebuffing international attempts to restrain the free speech rights of American citizens.
This is troubling. The United States was founded on the premise of freedom of worship, but also on the principle of the freedom to criticize religion. Islamists should not be allowed to stifle constitutionally protected speech, nor should they be allowed to subject innocent citizens who talk to other citizens about issues of national security to frivolous and costly lawsuits.
back in the studio, in the basement with val, finishing the 'adventures' cd, its my first ever recording and its not so bad, considering i was brain damaged when i made it.
anyway i'm freaking broke. had to sort out a new computer, plus all the band expenses. it's gonna be be a massive investment but i hope somewhere on planet earth some radio station overplays me, and my home town just embraces me enough to cover costs, anyway we did our best.
im really excited about the next project, i just wanna focus on that now but unfortunatly i'm gonna have to stay with adventures longer. having said that the idea of touring is scary and exciting, we talked about playing small theatre's and clubs and launching at some where like the hell fire club, also a great place for a video.
anyway i'm freaking broke. had to sort out a new computer, plus all the band expenses. it's gonna be be a massive investment but i hope somewhere on planet earth some radio station overplays me, and my home town just embraces me enough to cover costs, anyway we did our best.
im really excited about the next project, i just wanna focus on that now but unfortunatly i'm gonna have to stay with adventures longer. having said that the idea of touring is scary and exciting, we talked about playing small theatre's and clubs and launching at some where like the hell fire club, also a great place for a video.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
i have been sick, wounded deeply, battle scared and world weary. there are times recently when i just wanted to wander away and die quietly, i have been self destructing, riddled with sadness and regret, and then in a beautiful space, surrounded by love and beautiful people, i did die, the second death in a week.
ayahuscia session last night with an oral dose of dmt, again deep healing, deep release, i had amazing visions, she came as a beautiful serpent, rich greens yellows and reds her blazing eyes, the jungle was alive the music in perfect time, invoking the serpent power, seductive and terrifing but beautiful but i have been so wounded these last few months, i have been lost and strayed from my true nature, i have been selfish and unkind and hostile and bitter and i have failed in friendships and generosity, i need forgiveness, from myself and from my Mistress, and i was thankfully given a deep healing. Divinity is Aya, she is my teacher and i have surrendered to her, but tonight in the throes of my absolution, i met the other force, him, behind everything, behind her, he says to me in his wonderful way, 'heal yourself, heal others and then you can heal the world.' it was a calling, a door has opened. he is there, the old old testament, figure, he is there, i understand now.
L and L, both so beautiful, so rich and powerful in spirit, i am so blessed to have shared my passage with you, i love you so much, for giving me the chance to die and be reborn. and to her, my mistress, you are my teacher, seducing me with your voice and dance, and grace. and behind all, is him. i never knew love like that and now its all i need to know.
i have to heal myself, and then brothers and sisters i will asssit you to heal, because your healing heals me.
such perfection, so elegant, so simple.
ayahuscia session last night with an oral dose of dmt, again deep healing, deep release, i had amazing visions, she came as a beautiful serpent, rich greens yellows and reds her blazing eyes, the jungle was alive the music in perfect time, invoking the serpent power, seductive and terrifing but beautiful but i have been so wounded these last few months, i have been lost and strayed from my true nature, i have been selfish and unkind and hostile and bitter and i have failed in friendships and generosity, i need forgiveness, from myself and from my Mistress, and i was thankfully given a deep healing. Divinity is Aya, she is my teacher and i have surrendered to her, but tonight in the throes of my absolution, i met the other force, him, behind everything, behind her, he says to me in his wonderful way, 'heal yourself, heal others and then you can heal the world.' it was a calling, a door has opened. he is there, the old old testament, figure, he is there, i understand now.
L and L, both so beautiful, so rich and powerful in spirit, i am so blessed to have shared my passage with you, i love you so much, for giving me the chance to die and be reborn. and to her, my mistress, you are my teacher, seducing me with your voice and dance, and grace. and behind all, is him. i never knew love like that and now its all i need to know.
i have to heal myself, and then brothers and sisters i will asssit you to heal, because your healing heals me.
such perfection, so elegant, so simple.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Thursday, February 07, 2008
I had another ayahuscia session last night, it was quite spontanious and so i was kinda unprepared although i managed to fast for 12 hours before hand, i did not meditate or have any pressing issues apart from my somewhat 'melencholy mood' and my heartbreak over Mer so i basically just asked for healing.
It was hosted by my friend La, a very modern sha-wo-man, and possibly the most powerful one i have met in australia, she invited me and about 5 of her friends for the session, that lasted from about 7pm monday till midday tuesday. i usually leave the group early to pursue my own activities so at about 6am i was walking along the beach in the rain with Pan.
The session was quite amazing, i've never emersed myself in the experience so much, and i died. The fear of letting go was absolutly intense, usually i jump into these experiences but this time i was clinging on, resisting. I felt and visioned myself as an old warrior, my chest moved up and down with my last few breathes, it was quite beautiful but also very terrifing. I lay upon my back listening to owls hearalding the dawn and although it had been raining all night there was a moments reprive, it was an ancient moment and in that stillness i surrenderred and died.
It was quite beautiful, kinda how i imagine robin hood dying in the forest although it had a more tribal, american indian element than english.
Anyways so much stuff came up for me, i really have felt so depressed as if i have lived my life and now i am weary from it, i have done my biologiocal duties and i think i was feeling redundent.
Anyways it was amazing, the ceremony was led by a really young guy called Li who was ancient soul wise, at one point (the throwing up bit) i was retching out into a bucket while he held it for me patting my back.
I said, 'Thanks brother, the healings gone deep for me.'
He said, 'No. Thank you. You are healing me.'
How fucking cool is that.
It was hosted by my friend La, a very modern sha-wo-man, and possibly the most powerful one i have met in australia, she invited me and about 5 of her friends for the session, that lasted from about 7pm monday till midday tuesday. i usually leave the group early to pursue my own activities so at about 6am i was walking along the beach in the rain with Pan.
The session was quite amazing, i've never emersed myself in the experience so much, and i died. The fear of letting go was absolutly intense, usually i jump into these experiences but this time i was clinging on, resisting. I felt and visioned myself as an old warrior, my chest moved up and down with my last few breathes, it was quite beautiful but also very terrifing. I lay upon my back listening to owls hearalding the dawn and although it had been raining all night there was a moments reprive, it was an ancient moment and in that stillness i surrenderred and died.
It was quite beautiful, kinda how i imagine robin hood dying in the forest although it had a more tribal, american indian element than english.
Anyways so much stuff came up for me, i really have felt so depressed as if i have lived my life and now i am weary from it, i have done my biologiocal duties and i think i was feeling redundent.
Anyways it was amazing, the ceremony was led by a really young guy called Li who was ancient soul wise, at one point (the throwing up bit) i was retching out into a bucket while he held it for me patting my back.
I said, 'Thanks brother, the healings gone deep for me.'
He said, 'No. Thank you. You are healing me.'
How fucking cool is that.
Monday, January 28, 2008
John Burdett has written several dectective books about a buddist dectective in Bangkok. i've read most of his work and its quite brilliant.
Here's the auther himself talking about how the first book was concievd
The Power of Difference
by John Burdett
Bangkok 8
by John Burdett
I had visited Thailand dozens of times before I decided to write a thriller based in Bangkok. I had no particular interest in its famous sex industry or the young women who worked in it. Nor did I have any particular interest in Thai Buddhism, which seemed so much less alluring than Zen or Tibetan Buddhism. I thought I was simply looking for an exotic location which had not been "done," or at least not overdone (how many detective thrillers have you read that are not based in New York, or LA, or London or Paris?). I thought I would get a flavor of the city, which the Thais themselves call Krung Thep (City of Angels), by hanging around in some tourist bars, until I made more contacts with the "real" Thailand. I was looking for an introduction to someone working in the Royal Thai Police, who might give me an insight into local law enforcement. I had no idea that the lives of the young women I was talking to in these bars were stoking up a passion in me of a literary nature. The more monumental events of consciousness seem to happen off-screen.
I also decided that I ought to know more about Theravada Buddhism (that is practiced throughout Southeast Asia), so I went on a two-week meditation course in a monastery a few hundred miles north of Bangkok. I had no idea that the radical discipline of vipassana meditation would stoke up another passion.
The world other than as advertised can be an amazing place. These young women who sold their bodies every night were not victims, they were not cheap or vulgar, they were not miserable, they were not desperate, they were not even (and here it really gets weird) promiscuous. It's true, I'm not the first person to make the observation. The girls sell their bodies often as an act of personal and voluntary sacrifice, because they are the only member of their family (almost invariably rice farmers from Thailand's poorest region known as Isaan) who can make that kind of money in the big city. I learned that men who want to be lovers of such whores (as opposed to customers) are expected to have some high moral standards; in particular, they better be faithful (Thai surgeons are the best in the world when it comes to penis re-attachment: they get more practice). The quid pro quo is that she will be scrupulously faithful to her boyfriend too — out of working hours.
I also learned that Buddhism is the most extraordinary psychology ever invented. I'd had no idea that for more than a thousand years after the birth of the Gautama Buddha the very best minds on the planet had dedicated themselves to the study and elaboration of levels of consciousness. People who truly dedicate themselves to Buddhist meditation can be quite exceptional. In the monastery where I was meditating one elderly monk who was dying refused all medical treatment because he wanted to watch his body disintegrate — no way he was going to miss the end of the show by numbing his mind with painkillers. I discovered that Thailand was one of those countries, like Sri Lanka and India, where memory of past lives used to be commonplace. Go back a few generations and you find people talking about earlier lives with total certainty.
One young monk who positively glowed with meta — loving kindness — explained to me that the West was a culture of emergency: "If you didn't think you could control everything you wouldn't have so many emergencies, would you?"
I had found my exotic location, but the nature of the difference was more than I had bargained for. How could I, a Western man who didn't speak much of the local language, put himself in the shoes of a Thai? I didn't have an answer, but I did realize that I was starting to see the world somewhat in the Thai way and decided to let things develop without reference to my original plan. I had to find out more.
The girls who worked the bars were indeed heroes and acknowledged as such in their home villages, where people were deeply impressed by the way a young woman could go to the big city and extract so much money from those exotic and formidable-looking farang men that she could support her whole family, send siblings to university, pay her parents' medical bills, build herself a new house and retire by the age of thirty. I calculated that the average bargirl sends between sixty and seventy percent of her earnings home to some impoverished village in Isaan where she has probably been brought up in what to Western eyes is no more than a shack on stilts. Very often she will be barely literate, having left school in early teens (or before) in order to make a contribution to the family finances, but she dresses like a fashion model and learns English, German, Japanese, French, Malay, Chinese — whatever she needs for her business — with amazing speed. Those who travel abroad become connoisseurs of jails and five-star hotels in equal measure.
Like all true heroes, the girls were tough, too. Not a one of these beautiful women didn't have some serious scarring somewhere on her body from a motorcycle accident, usually sustained when taking a corner too fast whilst drunk. And they loved to fight. Many of them proudly related stories of gladiatorial fist-fights, sometimes with other women, quite often with men, usually conducted in a back alley out of view of the cops, (only a knockout or serious flow of blood ended the battle). They were fiercely patriotic, too. There are sixty-one million people in Thailand and you get the impression that every one of them would happily die for their king.
One evening I was sitting at a bar in Pat Pong, probably the most famous red-light district in the world, when an attractive young woman started talking to me, then a few minutes into the conversation admitted she was a man. She/he was stuck in the middle of the transition from male to female. Her sponsor, a Western man, had paid for the course of medication, most of which consisted of estrogen in one form or another, so that she had grown breasts and developed an impressive luster in her long black hair. Her farang lover had lost interest, however, and now she was trying to raise money for the final step which was surgery. It struck me with some force how radical Western consumerism can be in its effect on the Third World, even to the point of changing men into women. My new friend readily admitted that she did not fit the profile of a transsexual. It had not occurred to her to think she was a man trapped in a woman's body. She had decided to have the operation partly because her lover wanted it but mostly because she expected to be much more marketable to Western men as a woman.
At the same time I thought more and more about Buddhism. I had often reflected in a vague way how infantile Western culture can be when faced with some of the more challenging facts of life, especially death. In the West we pay specialists to keep death out of sight, except when a close relative dies. In my monastery one senior monk used to arrange for the local hospital to send him cadavers, to assist in his meditation on the supreme reality of death — and whatever lies behind. That probably sounds morbid to a Western mind (even in Thailand it's not exactly mainstream), but I no longer find it so. On the contrary, I have at least absorbed the Buddhist lesson to the extent of finding our Western habit of distracting our minds from reality to be morbid and dangerous in itself.
Then one fine morning, about a year after my arrival, I found myself writing a story narrated in the first person by a Thai cop who was half western by blood, who was a passionate meditator, whose mother was a whore and who had grown up amongst those very young women and katoeys (transsexuals) with whom I spent my evenings chatting. I didn't need to think about "voice," it was there every morning, nagging, persistent and quite indifferent to all those rules about novel writing I had so conscientiously studied.
John Burdett, April 2003, Hong Kong
Here's the auther himself talking about how the first book was concievd
The Power of Difference
by John Burdett
Bangkok 8
by John Burdett
I had visited Thailand dozens of times before I decided to write a thriller based in Bangkok. I had no particular interest in its famous sex industry or the young women who worked in it. Nor did I have any particular interest in Thai Buddhism, which seemed so much less alluring than Zen or Tibetan Buddhism. I thought I was simply looking for an exotic location which had not been "done," or at least not overdone (how many detective thrillers have you read that are not based in New York, or LA, or London or Paris?). I thought I would get a flavor of the city, which the Thais themselves call Krung Thep (City of Angels), by hanging around in some tourist bars, until I made more contacts with the "real" Thailand. I was looking for an introduction to someone working in the Royal Thai Police, who might give me an insight into local law enforcement. I had no idea that the lives of the young women I was talking to in these bars were stoking up a passion in me of a literary nature. The more monumental events of consciousness seem to happen off-screen.
I also decided that I ought to know more about Theravada Buddhism (that is practiced throughout Southeast Asia), so I went on a two-week meditation course in a monastery a few hundred miles north of Bangkok. I had no idea that the radical discipline of vipassana meditation would stoke up another passion.
The world other than as advertised can be an amazing place. These young women who sold their bodies every night were not victims, they were not cheap or vulgar, they were not miserable, they were not desperate, they were not even (and here it really gets weird) promiscuous. It's true, I'm not the first person to make the observation. The girls sell their bodies often as an act of personal and voluntary sacrifice, because they are the only member of their family (almost invariably rice farmers from Thailand's poorest region known as Isaan) who can make that kind of money in the big city. I learned that men who want to be lovers of such whores (as opposed to customers) are expected to have some high moral standards; in particular, they better be faithful (Thai surgeons are the best in the world when it comes to penis re-attachment: they get more practice). The quid pro quo is that she will be scrupulously faithful to her boyfriend too — out of working hours.
I also learned that Buddhism is the most extraordinary psychology ever invented. I'd had no idea that for more than a thousand years after the birth of the Gautama Buddha the very best minds on the planet had dedicated themselves to the study and elaboration of levels of consciousness. People who truly dedicate themselves to Buddhist meditation can be quite exceptional. In the monastery where I was meditating one elderly monk who was dying refused all medical treatment because he wanted to watch his body disintegrate — no way he was going to miss the end of the show by numbing his mind with painkillers. I discovered that Thailand was one of those countries, like Sri Lanka and India, where memory of past lives used to be commonplace. Go back a few generations and you find people talking about earlier lives with total certainty.
One young monk who positively glowed with meta — loving kindness — explained to me that the West was a culture of emergency: "If you didn't think you could control everything you wouldn't have so many emergencies, would you?"
I had found my exotic location, but the nature of the difference was more than I had bargained for. How could I, a Western man who didn't speak much of the local language, put himself in the shoes of a Thai? I didn't have an answer, but I did realize that I was starting to see the world somewhat in the Thai way and decided to let things develop without reference to my original plan. I had to find out more.
The girls who worked the bars were indeed heroes and acknowledged as such in their home villages, where people were deeply impressed by the way a young woman could go to the big city and extract so much money from those exotic and formidable-looking farang men that she could support her whole family, send siblings to university, pay her parents' medical bills, build herself a new house and retire by the age of thirty. I calculated that the average bargirl sends between sixty and seventy percent of her earnings home to some impoverished village in Isaan where she has probably been brought up in what to Western eyes is no more than a shack on stilts. Very often she will be barely literate, having left school in early teens (or before) in order to make a contribution to the family finances, but she dresses like a fashion model and learns English, German, Japanese, French, Malay, Chinese — whatever she needs for her business — with amazing speed. Those who travel abroad become connoisseurs of jails and five-star hotels in equal measure.
Like all true heroes, the girls were tough, too. Not a one of these beautiful women didn't have some serious scarring somewhere on her body from a motorcycle accident, usually sustained when taking a corner too fast whilst drunk. And they loved to fight. Many of them proudly related stories of gladiatorial fist-fights, sometimes with other women, quite often with men, usually conducted in a back alley out of view of the cops, (only a knockout or serious flow of blood ended the battle). They were fiercely patriotic, too. There are sixty-one million people in Thailand and you get the impression that every one of them would happily die for their king.
One evening I was sitting at a bar in Pat Pong, probably the most famous red-light district in the world, when an attractive young woman started talking to me, then a few minutes into the conversation admitted she was a man. She/he was stuck in the middle of the transition from male to female. Her sponsor, a Western man, had paid for the course of medication, most of which consisted of estrogen in one form or another, so that she had grown breasts and developed an impressive luster in her long black hair. Her farang lover had lost interest, however, and now she was trying to raise money for the final step which was surgery. It struck me with some force how radical Western consumerism can be in its effect on the Third World, even to the point of changing men into women. My new friend readily admitted that she did not fit the profile of a transsexual. It had not occurred to her to think she was a man trapped in a woman's body. She had decided to have the operation partly because her lover wanted it but mostly because she expected to be much more marketable to Western men as a woman.
At the same time I thought more and more about Buddhism. I had often reflected in a vague way how infantile Western culture can be when faced with some of the more challenging facts of life, especially death. In the West we pay specialists to keep death out of sight, except when a close relative dies. In my monastery one senior monk used to arrange for the local hospital to send him cadavers, to assist in his meditation on the supreme reality of death — and whatever lies behind. That probably sounds morbid to a Western mind (even in Thailand it's not exactly mainstream), but I no longer find it so. On the contrary, I have at least absorbed the Buddhist lesson to the extent of finding our Western habit of distracting our minds from reality to be morbid and dangerous in itself.
Then one fine morning, about a year after my arrival, I found myself writing a story narrated in the first person by a Thai cop who was half western by blood, who was a passionate meditator, whose mother was a whore and who had grown up amongst those very young women and katoeys (transsexuals) with whom I spent my evenings chatting. I didn't need to think about "voice," it was there every morning, nagging, persistent and quite indifferent to all those rules about novel writing I had so conscientiously studied.
John Burdett, April 2003, Hong Kong
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
2008 so far, year of sex.
im reading again, start lightly with the dexter series, a serial killer whith a difference, very well written and entertaining, so far i've read the set, excellent.
had some guests staying, was nice but its nice to be solo again, starting to think about the cd again after a long break, i have a few ideas for fine tuning and i also want to redo vocals on some songs.
my sadness is still lingering, but i know in my processing i have reached a conclusive train of thought that meredith and i will never see one another again. certaintity brings peace.
im listening to a great song called angel by a guy called gavin friday, its on the romeo and juliet soundtrack and its the type of song i describe as perfect, theres not many perfect songs but angel is a classic. its somewhat u2 ish when they were experimental and breaking the rock band label, but its alos just a nice vibe.
my friend the proff. is travelling through blade runner territory, hong kong, although the proff. is way ahead of blade runner time, he's in the 30th century.
im reading again, start lightly with the dexter series, a serial killer whith a difference, very well written and entertaining, so far i've read the set, excellent.
had some guests staying, was nice but its nice to be solo again, starting to think about the cd again after a long break, i have a few ideas for fine tuning and i also want to redo vocals on some songs.
my sadness is still lingering, but i know in my processing i have reached a conclusive train of thought that meredith and i will never see one another again. certaintity brings peace.
im listening to a great song called angel by a guy called gavin friday, its on the romeo and juliet soundtrack and its the type of song i describe as perfect, theres not many perfect songs but angel is a classic. its somewhat u2 ish when they were experimental and breaking the rock band label, but its alos just a nice vibe.
my friend the proff. is travelling through blade runner territory, hong kong, although the proff. is way ahead of blade runner time, he's in the 30th century.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
snappy new ears to you all
despite being an arbitory line in the flow of time i am somewhat releived to see 2007 pass, i feel so much more confident about 2008, as my charkras come into alignment and my aura heals.
im reading alan de botans book, essays in love' fantastic reading, very funny, very true.
i did have a very vivid dream that i found revealing.
i was with some musicians practicing for the live shows, there was a beautiful natural looking girl, natures golden child who carried a drum stick, she grabbed my hand and led me outside into a forest and she told me about the magick drumstick. 'this drum sounds good on anything' she said, 'on the ground' she started to beat the ground and true enough it did sound good, 'it sounds good on trees' and sure enough on the trees its sounded great. then she listed a whole bunch of stuff, 'animal skins' bones, rocks but best of all it sounds good on the sun.'
she hit the sun with the stick and light fell down on us showering us and we danced in it happy and joyous.
beautiful dream
despite being an arbitory line in the flow of time i am somewhat releived to see 2007 pass, i feel so much more confident about 2008, as my charkras come into alignment and my aura heals.
im reading alan de botans book, essays in love' fantastic reading, very funny, very true.
i did have a very vivid dream that i found revealing.
i was with some musicians practicing for the live shows, there was a beautiful natural looking girl, natures golden child who carried a drum stick, she grabbed my hand and led me outside into a forest and she told me about the magick drumstick. 'this drum sounds good on anything' she said, 'on the ground' she started to beat the ground and true enough it did sound good, 'it sounds good on trees' and sure enough on the trees its sounded great. then she listed a whole bunch of stuff, 'animal skins' bones, rocks but best of all it sounds good on the sun.'
she hit the sun with the stick and light fell down on us showering us and we danced in it happy and joyous.
beautiful dream
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
had a coffee with my friend julie and her new born django, she punched me in the face, nearly blinded me, im sporting a lovely black eye and my vision is a bit wobbely. 'nevermind' as kurt says. im ready for the xmas onslaught but nothing could compare me for the mall. jake and i went there on a book buying expedition, he picked up some mirumaka and i scored a couple of topical journalistic type commentarys on economics and polotics, believe it or not i was top of the school in those two subjects, should have become pm.
anyways i played jules me cd, she said its a bit pink floydy and she likes it. its the kinda music she listens to after a huge night and shes written herself off on booze and drugs and she plays coming down music. i took that as a compliment.
got caught in big storm, sheets of h20, lightning and thunder, gods anger some say, it felt like it. man natures powerful hey, the sky wrenched open, electricity splits the horizon down the middle. lovely.
anyways i played jules me cd, she said its a bit pink floydy and she likes it. its the kinda music she listens to after a huge night and shes written herself off on booze and drugs and she plays coming down music. i took that as a compliment.
got caught in big storm, sheets of h20, lightning and thunder, gods anger some say, it felt like it. man natures powerful hey, the sky wrenched open, electricity splits the horizon down the middle. lovely.
Friday, November 23, 2007
i had the strangest dream...
...for two days i have been in some sort of training, a course, its been a class of about 30, very relaxed introduction to some sort of spiritual, healing group or theraphy, the teacher is a lovely woman in her early 30's, she is spending a lot of time introducing the main lecturer a man whom has written a number of books, may be part russian, but she is coy about him, focusing on the content of the course not the person. when he arrives he's an eccentric old man with an amazing haircut, white shock of hair with various upright dreads, he does have an accent and is remarkably funny, he laughs and makes us laugh, he's hysterical. At first he is presented on a film as the auther of a book and the prize winning respected and emminent best proffessor, he steps out to accept the award and squirts water on the audience.
somehow he materializes in the classroom ad starts to interact with us all, he is amazing and hands out our workbooks. part of my workbook is incomplete, as are a few other students and we are told to complete them, the first part is a tree of yggrassil.
the proffessor wanders around the glass talking to people, he sometimes jokes and laughs and sometimes asks us serious questions,
its very strange.....
...for two days i have been in some sort of training, a course, its been a class of about 30, very relaxed introduction to some sort of spiritual, healing group or theraphy, the teacher is a lovely woman in her early 30's, she is spending a lot of time introducing the main lecturer a man whom has written a number of books, may be part russian, but she is coy about him, focusing on the content of the course not the person. when he arrives he's an eccentric old man with an amazing haircut, white shock of hair with various upright dreads, he does have an accent and is remarkably funny, he laughs and makes us laugh, he's hysterical. At first he is presented on a film as the auther of a book and the prize winning respected and emminent best proffessor, he steps out to accept the award and squirts water on the audience.
somehow he materializes in the classroom ad starts to interact with us all, he is amazing and hands out our workbooks. part of my workbook is incomplete, as are a few other students and we are told to complete them, the first part is a tree of yggrassil.
the proffessor wanders around the glass talking to people, he sometimes jokes and laughs and sometimes asks us serious questions,
its very strange.....
Thursday, November 22, 2007
im pottering around at home, my mood low, angel stone picks me up to take me to the city where i buy two charles stross books from galaxy bookshop, the sci fi bookshop. i eturn home, potter around. i'm feeling sad and lonely today, im vunerable and sensitive.
the ultimate magick, to command love,
yet is it love if it is under command?
the best answer gets a prize
the ultimate magick, to command love,
yet is it love if it is under command?
the best answer gets a prize
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
im feeling lonely
alone and vunerable
my humanity is bleeding
and i got an open wound
im loveless in the plaza
hated and despised
my elementary particles
refuse to get organized
im chaos baby chaos
filled to the brim
on the edge of the plank
looking at the sharks fin
my world is ended in betrayal
my honour abused dispised
these lovers are really rapists
in a beautiful disguise
i'm worn out and exhuasted
in loves battle ground
im ready to throw in the towel
if there is one to be found
becuase i have no fear of death
just of being alone
these people have scared me senseless
becuase they are brutal to the bone
Monday, November 19, 2007
im listening to the panics cd, its fantastic, go get a copy now. i really love the songs, just the right amount of melancholia. ah its certainly been a year for sadness, whats old shakespear say, its better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, well he didn't have a bashed frontal lobe..
okay the music seems to be okay, i sort of feel that some of the tunes are better than others and its not a masterpiece but its a good first effort, and there's lots of room to improve. the artwork is almost complete and we are just tweaking the images slightly, playing with the fonts.
i'm writing for the second cd now, it's a strangely different process, less unconcious, i need to find my inspirational connection in female form, having lost the last one.
a muse a muse my kingdom for my muse
Saturday, November 10, 2007
i have a new car, its a lovely blue colour and it has leather seats, its going to cost me a fortune but its a nessessity, being the mother of invention, my intention is to design a hover car. don't you feel cheated, when i was a kid i expected the future to have a few hover cars in it, but where are they, 40 years on and we are still fighting over oil. i want my hover car and i want it now.
i recently recieved three speeding tickets, thats 7 points lost, i'm hoping i don't receive any more for the next three years.
i recently recieved three speeding tickets, thats 7 points lost, i'm hoping i don't receive any more for the next three years.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
here we are somewhere further down the time line, are we in a different space than before, or perhaps just the scenery moves, who knows, i certainly feel different. i feel sensitive to humanity yet detached from it, an observer, yet we all know the observer cannot observe without effecting the results.
i recorded my cd, its out in march next year, i'm happy with it but i'm already writing the next one, the next one is really exciting, now i have a much better idea about what i am doing.
The first cd 'adventures' was written through me,, i was a vessel. this time i am concious of what is occurring, much more awareness goes into the writing and the music, although i am driven by instinct and intuition and love the idea of spontinaity creeping in to the mix. it's like cooking, one can follow the reciepe but you know what your going to get, something similar to what you had last time, or you can just experiment, substitute cream for water, add sultanas, use organic mayan chocolate instead of hundreds and thousands, you know what i'm saying.
i recorded my cd, its out in march next year, i'm happy with it but i'm already writing the next one, the next one is really exciting, now i have a much better idea about what i am doing.
The first cd 'adventures' was written through me,, i was a vessel. this time i am concious of what is occurring, much more awareness goes into the writing and the music, although i am driven by instinct and intuition and love the idea of spontinaity creeping in to the mix. it's like cooking, one can follow the reciepe but you know what your going to get, something similar to what you had last time, or you can just experiment, substitute cream for water, add sultanas, use organic mayan chocolate instead of hundreds and thousands, you know what i'm saying.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
mmm, hello. yes reserrected again.
okay well in grief and mourning, broken hearted and strangely intensified feelings due to my brain injury i found myself in the full exaggerated emotional meltdown that goes with a broken heart, very powerful. couldn't do anything except write songs and record some music, this operation took two all consuming weeks, i didn't even sleep really, just wrote songs and designed some music, the result being 14 songs.
i sent the cd off to a producer who responded favourably, and i am now in the studio recording them.
its a strange process but my producer is amazing, he really believes in the music and his qualities compliment mine perfectly. I have named him the alchymest as he has turned lead to gold.
the cd may take some time, to perfect, i want quality not quantity and we think there may be two cds worth of music, i will probably have an ep out as a pre cursor.
so far the response has been overwhelming although i am so nervous when its time to record my vocals again, i am fine at home when im comfy and relaxed but in a studio my body tenses and my voice changes, have to learn how to relax a bit.
okay well there you go, from something awful something wonderful developed.
i'm feeling much better, i feel positive and healthy and have spent the last few weeks working on my mental attitude and surrounding myself with positivity.
i am delving back into the magickal process, letting my subconcious guide me, under love, the profound results are worth acknowledging, trust the process, hounor thy muse and follow thy heart.
okay well in grief and mourning, broken hearted and strangely intensified feelings due to my brain injury i found myself in the full exaggerated emotional meltdown that goes with a broken heart, very powerful. couldn't do anything except write songs and record some music, this operation took two all consuming weeks, i didn't even sleep really, just wrote songs and designed some music, the result being 14 songs.
i sent the cd off to a producer who responded favourably, and i am now in the studio recording them.
its a strange process but my producer is amazing, he really believes in the music and his qualities compliment mine perfectly. I have named him the alchymest as he has turned lead to gold.
the cd may take some time, to perfect, i want quality not quantity and we think there may be two cds worth of music, i will probably have an ep out as a pre cursor.
so far the response has been overwhelming although i am so nervous when its time to record my vocals again, i am fine at home when im comfy and relaxed but in a studio my body tenses and my voice changes, have to learn how to relax a bit.
okay well there you go, from something awful something wonderful developed.
i'm feeling much better, i feel positive and healthy and have spent the last few weeks working on my mental attitude and surrounding myself with positivity.
i am delving back into the magickal process, letting my subconcious guide me, under love, the profound results are worth acknowledging, trust the process, hounor thy muse and follow thy heart.
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