Happy New Year, from the river to the sea. Olive Palestine.

 This was the year everybody started waking up to the truth. Everybody say look, be curious, see what is, it's a love affair, don't turn away.

 

 

I don't support western values, I support Palestine Action. I love the resistance, I love the intifada.  

 

We dream on behalf of others who can't dream.

 Israel and the U.S. won't stop the genocide. The great con will continue. Hamas will keep fighting for the liberation of Palestine. The year will change.   

His Conning Tower, 12.31.25.

 

Crimes of neoliberal capitalism: privatization, land theft, piracy and genocide. 

 

I'm close to the end of Peter Matthiessen's pilgrimage. I think about dad. It's a funny thing to think of dad as a pilgrim on a pilgrimage. He seemed to have an air about him, some kind of inwardness, but he felt hollow at the same time. A fierce concentration of indirection. Peter Matthiessen's pilgrimage was escape. He always longed for simplicity, and paradise. He was forever seeking something but it turned out what he was seeking was escape, from himself. Is this about dad? Dad and me? We were separate, yet inextricably bound. I think about escape, but what would I be escaping? I'm a spirit in a body, a body of spirit. There's nothing to escape. I'm just here. I'm just talking here. Writing rather. Dad never left the writing he talked about writing. He just disappeared. 

 What's your respite?

 Everything is mind. Kevin said about returning to the breath, it's like changing the vision from looking into a window at what's inside to looking at the reflection in the glass.

 Today's paramita was meditative absorption. Kevin said reading is an act of meditative absorption. Love that guy. 

Electronic Intifada, Now!

 

 Day 816.

 There's a big gap between reality and propaganda. Like this conning tower. All for a paycheck that disappears as sure as we do. We may be secured with ropes, but I feel like we're falling into the abyss. I had a bad dream about this. 

 Whatever we believe, people will believe anything, we know in our gut life is out of balance, and stealing land and killing people and privatizing the commons and building monuments to avaricious politicians and quantum artificial intelligence compounds is wrong. We don't have to believe anything in the end. We know. There is no nation, no religion, no god, we've been lost in illusion, we face collapse.

 Reading about Bigfoot in True Nature. The new Orion's about Bigfoot too. My dog who found me in Carbondale was named Bigfoot, and I changed it to Bigsby, then just Bigs, because Bigfoot was stupid I thought. I'll think of him as Bigfoot now, up on the big island. I hope he had a good life. The Hopi Peter Matthiessen met with said Bigfoot is our brother who can understand our tongues.

 I feel rather lazy-spacey. I think i'll just have leftovers and chocolonely. 

 Blessing the journey. Olive knows when the carrier comes out, she's going on a journey. When the black satchel comes out, R. is going on a journey. 

 Artificial intelligence is another sign of the collapse of humanity. If we do not use our brains we will lose our mind, like the blind cave fish lost their eyes.

 We watched Ratcatcher last night. There's a scene with Tom Jones singing What's New, Pussycat. We were watching that here too, in 1965.

 Each block of letters made of concrete weighs 5 to 10 tons. Heavy people, heavy words. I thought they were carved in stone. I see the opportunity for nesting birds.

His hat blew off. I saw a rabbit running scared
through the stark landscape full of fast machines.

 

 The wind made the windows moan loud. Fog became rain became snow and powerful gusting. R. has to go petsitting. I'll be with Olive for the close of the year. It'll be ok, we'll get some food in, and we'll each watch the last three paramitas of the year of the snake in different rooms.

 I'm reading the book True Nature, The Pilgrimage of Peter Matthiessen. In an early chapter, when he was a kid, I identified with him as he was alienated from his indifferent philandering father, and later on I read that he became like his father, toward women and children, though he made a great success in the world. I'm realizing I get the same feeling of sadness I had about my father when I look at the progress of the Obamachron.

 From the Nelson Mandela Skyroom you'll be able to look through Obama's backward words imprinted on the landscape as though you were inside his so to speak head.