I have created an archive for the class I taught this summer at San Francisco State University. I was so pleased with the quality and creativity of the class.

Below them a man lay tarred and feathered in the desert.

We think of being tarred and feathered as a funny saying
but when vigilante justice prevailed being tarred and feathered was a punishment some actually suffered.

Hot tar was painted onto an immobilized victim.
Burns would be sustained upon contact that caused permanent scarring.
If the tar was removed while still hot the victims skin would peel off.
A action difficult to imagine one human capable of doing to another human being.

He lay on the floor of the desert - the heat pounding down -
he was immobilized and unable to do anything more than moan in agony..each breath labored and filling his lungs with the stench of tar and his own scored flesh.

Death would be a welcomed respite to the unrelenting pain.

The buzzards circles...their caws alerting others of the potential for a meal..

One vulture lands close to the man - curiously tilting its head..

it hops closer..the man can smell the reek of the carrion feeding bird as it comes close..

He tried to scream but he is unable to speak, unable to move..

Thought the vulture prefers pungent rotting flesh, hunger and impatience for a meal prompts the bird to take
just one small peck..

just one small bite from an open sore on the leg of his meal

The mans eyes enlarge ...they become saucers of horror..

The Vulture caws triumphantly and more buzzards land and hop over, ready to partake...

"Please let me die now" The man thinks.. the though of the buzzards feasting on him while he is still completely conscious outrageous all his sensibilities..

A vulture comes closer to his face... attracted by the movement of his eyes and the flutter of what is left of his singed eyelashes..
It hops on his chest and moves closer to his face. Closer to his eyes.

The man swallows hard and braces. The last thing he will ever see is the beak of the bird as it plucks his eye from it's socket....

He feels himself falling...
and falling...

He feels not blistering heat..
but a comforting warmth

He feels clear, clean air fill his lungs as his breath expands and contacts his chest easily.

He feels his legs stretch and he moves his toes.
His hands...
He moves his fingers...

His hand moves to his face and feels only soft skin..

He flutters his eyes open and sees the floor of the desert..
and his body free from the restraints and the tar bits lying aside amid feathers that flutter in the slow desert wind.

And around his body lies buzzards...
dead in a circle around him

He has been resurrected..
given life again

In the middle of this desert and feels more alive than ever before.
He is not sure how to get out of the desert but he has never felt more powerful,
more hopeful than before
this
very
moment

He stands up - looks up to the sky to orient his direction.
And takes his first step.
newly born

He heads to the west..
and as he begins his trek to points unknown..

he kicks the buzzard

I was suggested by friends three places:

Cing Saveurs de Ananda - which is closed until Jan 28th (and I will be long gone by then)

Theatro Piccolo - which is never open even though the website says it is.

and the place I won't mention but I can't go there again because of you-know-who.

anyway... so far I have cured myself of liking cheese. I will be happy to not stare down a piece of cheese for a very very long time. I am sick of cheese.

I am sick of bread..I am sick of bread and cheese.

I want something with fresh tofu...something spicy and I want veggies that aren't bloody overcooked.

I want...a real tortilla... with some lettuce and tomatoes and fresh guacamole - and fresh salsa..(I am having a post-Tex-Mex fantasy)

But, food wise what I would not give up ... wine.. Wine...everywhere..
Good wine and inexpensive... delicious whites everywhere... I have sampled and sampled wonderful Vouvray, Sancerre... ahh... so wonderful...

We have a short time on this planet. We are beings that from the time we are born are starting our decay and eventually demise. Our bodies full of cells dying and regenerating every moment of everyday until the youth is gone and we are left sick, shells of out former selves.

I am very aware that I have a limited shelf life and I care very much how I spend the short time I have on this planet. I chose to not spend that short time being destructive to other humans or animals or the environment. I chose to not permit being disrespected, uncared for, bored or mistreated.

Life is short... the time one has health and energy and attractiveness is finite.

You have one chance to be as young and energetic and healthy as you are right now, today. You have this one time in your life to do the things, and choose what memories you are going to fill your head with when you are an old person lying in a convalescent home somewhere, wearing a diaper.

What are you going to do? Who are you going to keep close to your heart? What things will make you smile when you think back on them?
Is is some empty victory at work? Someone you subbed over some imagined slight ? The thing you denied yourself? The person you never told you loved?

or ...

Will it be the amazing sunset you saw? The way the snow feels? The smell of fresh flowers? The trip you took to a place you never knew you would love so much? The person you took the time to get to know who ended up a dear friend? Remembering the time you were brave? The time you did the right thing even though it was the hard thing to do? The people you gave a kind word or advice from the heart when they needed it?

Today is a good day to start creating the memories old person you will be will look back on and be content with.

The language problem I am discovering is rapidly becoming tolerable.
I need to get over myself and just try and not be so self-conscious.
The only thing I haven't sorted out is how to create a voice mail message on my mobile phone because my manual has alot of words I don't know and I can't be arsed to type it into a translator.

Unless something dramatic happens back in San Francisco --my mind is made up.

My close friends know what this is all about. I am closer to making up my mind everyday.

Rarely in life do we get the opportunity to think about what it is we really want to do and be in position to actually do it.

San Francisco has been a real drag for me.

I guess I am the kind of person who needs a three ring circus to keep my interest... I need something new all the time, I need to feel energized and fully engaged 100% in whatever I do or I lose interest and get bored.

It's okay to Franglais too. Use as much French as possible and use English words if you have to. It also helps to have had some wine.

I went to a crowded party where the only person who spoke English fluently was my friend. In order not be rude we spoke French to the other guests. Once in an accepting, welcoming environment filled with artists, photographers and other designers- I suddenly felt comfortable. As it turns out the language of art and good food and travel IS universal.

Magically, I was speaking French. Not shyly and quietly and embarrassed like I usually am. But, confidently and comfortably and without self-consciousness. I asked questions, I told people where I lived and what I did for work and what I like to do. I understood others and people understood me fine.

In fact, a friend of a friend said she thinks I shouldn't feel embarrassed because I speak fine. She said I will be getting it in no time.

Just when I was about to give up in despair.

The language problem I am discovering is rapidly becoming tolerable.
I need to get over myself and just try and not be so self-conscious.
The only thing I haven't sorted out is how to create a voice mail message on my mobile phone because my manual has alot of words I don't know and I can't be arsed to type it into a translator.

Unless something dramatic happens back in San Francisco --my mind is made up - I am moving to Europe.
am closer to making up my mind everyday.

It will not be easy and is a dramatic step. But, rarely in life do we get the opportunity to think about what it is we really want to do and be in position to actually do it.

I went to San Francisco to wait out what happened with my parents and because I knew I could get work and I had a few friends there and I knew it would be a fairly easy landing.

But, sometimes the thing we think is easy isn't... and SF has been a rough ride for not much payback. I feel like I am not going anywhere with my current job, my romantic life has been a joke and I just don't feel right. I feel like I have been on the wrong, random path..not doing anything deliberate or committing to anything.

I am ready to do something deliberate, and thought out and dramatic and exciting..
Before its too late and I get stuck.

but now I am having one massive freak out...

All because of that damn This American Life episode this week on Living Alone.
It scared the crud out of me.

It was about this woman who died alone- just her dogs left.
She lived in a house filled with a bunch of crap and ad no family, no one who cared..
I also discovered that people who die with no one to claim their remains or plan a funeral or anything get cremated and buried in a massive grave once a year.

And it scared the shit out of me and made me think
what will happen when I get older?
When I get sick?
When all the guys I seem to go through like kleenex are off and married?
When all my friends are off with their families and no longer living with the Lost Kids?

I have no family..
no next of kin..
no nothing...
shit.

not feeling good right now...

I am not sure what prompted me to do this.
But I feel like I needed a break from San Francisco..
and from everyone and everything I know.

And to go and be anonymous and carefree and have the only big decision be what cafe I want to park myself for the next couple of hours.

I think if things get heated at a meeting at work - one should stand up and start locking.
Locking solves all disputes as evidenced here::