Bush, on "Terrorists"

"If it wasn't the war, they would have found some other excuse. They have ambitions- (pause for effect, snicker)...they kill, in order to achieve their objectives."


...wait a minute.


does it seem to be getting worse to anyone else out there? the hypocracy of the American government, this administration in particular, has reached a new level of ludicracy. to deny that the pre-emptive war in Iraq is NOT a direct cause of increased terrorism in the world- is, is...ridiculous! not to mention that a declassified U.S. Intelligence Report, (Bush's own frickin' Intelligence!!!!!!!) says that it is!!
ugh.
groan.

a quote, from the report, via BBC News:
"We assess that the Iraq jihad is shaping a new generation of terrorist leaders and operatives; perceived jihadist success there would inspire more fighters to continue the struggle elsewhere.
The Iraq conflict has become the "cause celebre" for jihadists, breeding a deep resentment of US involvement in the Muslim world and cultivating supporters for the global jihadist movement."

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. didn't Einstein say that??

sorry to unload my rant upon you all, but i had the news on and heard Bush speaking- contradicting the report from his own government's Intelligence, and i just couldn't swallow it today.

jeez...

had typed up this whole blog- beautifully, if i do say so myself. and something went terribly wrong with this archaic computer, and it has been lost forever. i will try again tomorrow.

it is wicked late and i have to open...ugh.
thank the lord for lattes, caps, and good ol' cups of coffee.

buenas noches a todos... se cuidan. espero y deseo que el amor de Dios los tranquile a todos sus corazones.

Me duele, mi corazon.

...que dolor tengo en mi alma. estoy frustrada- salire en dos semanas exactamente....pero hay mucho que necesito hacer. y le extrano muchisimo.

i was gonna pour out more (in english) but some nights it is just better
to
go
to
bed.

This is Beautiful.

Last night, as I was sleeping,

I dreamt--marvellous error!--

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.


(-Antionio Machado)

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

What a relaxed, beautiful afternoon. Laid in bed- read, fell asleep, woke up, read some more, fell back asleep, woke up- went outside and played my guitar in the sanctuary of our backyard. It was so wonderful.

I missed out on a barbeque for a dear friend, which makes me sad, but just coming off a short illness- this was just the afternoon i needed.


hey everybody... i want to you all before i leave...ok?
Love to All-

Hey! Come and See!!! ...er Listen!

This Saturday night my amiga, Shannon, will be playing at Mon Cafe- her music is personal, touching, and so incredibly talented. (it breaks me open). Come and hear her play!
Also...
My dear friend Earl John is going to be playing next Saturday, the 23rd, at the coffee house. I will be opening for him and there will be music, friends, and coffee galore!
Earl J. is an amazing guitarist, and his voice is just incredible. Just incredible. (I've blogged about his music before). :)

Anyway, here's the info:

Mon Cafe, 971 Manor Blvd. San Leandro 94579 (510) 895-5282

Shannon and Assorted Baristas: Saturday the 16th, 7pm at Mon Cafe
Earl John Rivard: Saturday the 23rd, 7pm at Mon Cafe

The Most Beautiful Woman in All the World

My Grandmother.

" God is tryin' ta tell you somethin' "

There is this beautiful scene near the end of "The Color Purple," the movie made from Alice Walker's novel, where there is a church service going on and the people out in the old-low-down-n-dirty jazz club hear the music and the woman who was singing the sultry jazz tune stops, and starts singing the lead voice of the gospel song.

She starts striding toward the church, singing at the top of her lungs- all the jazz folk following her and clapping in rhythm, rejoicing. The people of the church hear her voice before she gets to the building, the lead vocalist in the church stops singing, bewildered as to where this voice is coming from. The people of the congregation turn in their chairs, and the preacher just stops and stares as this woman bursts through the doors singing, calling out, "God is tryin' ta tell you somethin', God is tryin' ta tell you somethin', God is tryin' ta tell you somethin' right now!"

This woman was shunned by the church-folk, they didn't want to associate themselves with a woman of "her kind." Even her father, the preacher.

She sings, her face glowing, arms stretched out- calling out at the top of her lungs, tears streaming down her face past the most joyous smile. The church wouldn't open their doors to these people, this woman, so they came storming in.

Doors broken down,
the divisions between "us" and "them"- between the pious preacher and the sensual, soulful singer all crumble away.

"God is tryin' ta tell you somethin'...
God is tryin' ta tell you somethin'
God is tryin' ta tell you somethin' right now..."

My Beloved

You Are the ground beneath my feet,
You Are the rain
You Are the sun that rises again in my heart.
You Are the ocean's tides, constant and moving-
You Are the arms around me,
You Are the trees and the tanbark and the old swing,
You Are laughter and tears,
You Are peace.

the most intimate of tenderness
You have spoken to me,
carried me in Your arms
and rocked me to sleep on an Amtrak train.

You lay my steps before me,
You lift my head,
i breathe You.
You Are.

and i know You intimately-
the way a woman knows her lover,
the way the birds find their way home and back again.
i know You in the quiet places in my heart,
and in my joy
and in my singing.
i know You in my pain
the searing sorrow that sometimes visits me.
even there, i know You.

the Mystery unravels me and holds me tenderly-
i rest my head in Her,
my heart and my body.

this world and this Life are sacred-
i can hear Her rhythm pulsating in every living thing.

What??

An ad for the new HP Compaq notebook, asks:
"No one wants to work 15 hours straight, but isn't it nice to know you can?"

Umm, i would say, no.

New....Untitled.

its about that time of day
when the shadows grow long
and the earth's rhythms are reminding me-

the sun, the sun must set,
for it to rise again.

the rain will fall on my head
when you board that train, on wednesday
but the earth will not stop spinning in her orbit, no
my journey is only beginning-

soon i'll be headed for the border
and myself
i've got six strings and my courage wrapped around me like a coat-
i still haven't washed
my grey sweater-
it smells of you.
and misses your warmth, i miss your warmth-

but the sun, the sun must set,
for it to rise again.

it's about that time of day
when the birds are in song
and the earth's rhythms are reminding me-

that the sun will set,
and it will rise again.

Joy Harjo, a Creek woman.

The Blanket Around Her.

maybe it is her birth
which she holds close to herself
or her death
which is just as inseperable

and the white wind
that encircles her is a part
just as the
blue sky
hanging in turquoise from her neck

oh woman
remember who you are
woman
it is the whole earth.