Stockholm Syndrome

We regard our captor, our jailer,
our ego, as our dearest friend.

Ask Tiger

Like Neo, finding himself outside the Matrix.
it’s that painful for people to awaken from
their sleepwalk-daydream…ask Tiger.

Trosang*

Multi-color swirl lollipop for Anna’s birthday
stoking up, bright sun clear sky waiting for the party.
Rock and roll relaxation… Drala banners in the breeze…
the two year old stallion on display in the field
for the first time…blue black, like a dark night…
blackness shining like midnight sun…
oozing confidence, therefore gentle…
a perfect sweet and sour picture.


*Tibetian:”Day of enjoyment”

** (see comments)

Two Chairs

There are two chairs outside my trailer. One is white plastic,
a leg broken, it’s on it’s back. The other is red metal. It sits
calmly, receiving snow. Two more days of snow in store…
I hope it’s enough to bury my trailer, but it will probably be
just enough to be a pain in the ass.

I got a CD I like for my birthday, Ry Cooter, Mambo Sinuendo.
I was visiting family in Washington DC. The hotel bartender
played it for me. It was one of those hotel bars that attracts
an interesting crowd; professionals with a heart. So, naturally
it was a small bar, about eight stools. The place looked and felt
as if it had been there forever for a reason. I found myself
opening up…conversation was easy. Everyone else there
seemed to feel the same way, including the bartender.
Hearing the CD there imprinted the experience with
the music. Well, I didn’t fall in love, or anything,
but that was as much openness as I’ve felt in a city.
And the music fit right in.

So now that I’m back in my trailer in the mountains,
I listen to that CD a lot. That was a taste of freedom.
I can still feel it. I’m lucky I got to have it. Those people
I met won’t remember me. But I’ll remember them…
every last one. Even if I’m buried in snow.

The snow’s starting to coming down like it means business.
I like that….and feeling cozily buried. Present pleasure
and the fear of death…..what a nation! Iraq? Just keep
the professional sports thing going and control the media,
and…..Bob’s your uncle! Shall we try for the world?

Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, 2002