As You Like It…

On The Menu

A bit of Inspired Madness…

Psychedelic Music in the 80′s

Seijo’s Two Souls

Poetry from William Shakespeare…

A bit of Inspired Madness…

Quite a busy couple of days…
Dale and Laura Pendell flew in Monday (& flew out Tuesday)

for Dales’ reading at Powells’ promoting his new book: Inspired Madness – The Gifts Of Burning Man. (It was a great talk/reading btw)
We had many a good laugh, good conversation and good company with those that came and went… Cymon just back from France bringing sugar cubes she’d picked up while over there, just right for Absinthe. Andrew and Catherine brought young Eildon, Jan from Powell’s came bringing her outrageously beautiful laugh. Adele came down from Cedar Hillls… Ethan was here, Kyle back up from Country Fair, and Rowan sat there bemused by it all. Mike M. drove in from Ashland, just in time… just in time…
We passed Tuesday morning sitting and talking as the rain was coming down in buckets… we went out and pottered through the garden looking at the plants and checking out the french beds, showing Laura and Dale the techniques we use on our wee plot of land.
Dale & I went and checked out the various silk-screen/serigraph presses that we have in the outside studio… Dale published his first book using a silk screen press. We told stories back and forth of various projects and techniques of printing….
It was a wonderful time!
Kyle, Laura & Dale


Seijo’s Two Souls
Chokan had a very beautiful daughter named Seijo. He also had a handsome young cousin named Ochu. Joking, he would often comment that they would make a fine married couple. Actually, he planned to give his daughter in marriage to another man. But young Seijo and Ochu took him seriously; they fell in love and thought themselves engaged. One day Chokan announced Seijo’s betrothal to the other man. In rage and despair, Ochu left by boat. After several days journey, much to his astonishment and joy he discovered that Seijo was on the boat with him!
They went to a nearby city where they lived for several years and had two children. But Seijo could not forget her father; so Ochu decided to go back with her and ask the father’s forgiveness and blessing. When they arrived, he left Seijo on the boat and went to the father’s house. he humbly apologized to the father for taking his daughter away and asked forgiveness for them both.
“What is the meaning of all this madness?” the father exclaimed. Then he related that after Ochu had left, many years ago, his daughter Seijo had fallen ill and had lain comatose in bed since. Ochu assured him that he was mistaken, and, in proof, he brought Seijo from the boat. When she entered, the Seijo lying ill in bed rose to meet her, and the two became one.
Zen Master Goso, referrring to the legend, observed, “Seijo had two souls, one always sick at home and the other in the city, a married woman with two children. Which was the true soul?”


Psychedelic Music in the 80′s

Psychedelic Furs…


I loved this Band (The Psychedelic Furs) Ah, between The Furs and The Cure… I got a bit of psychedelia back in the 80′s.
The Cure – A Forest


Poetry from William Shakespeare…

From As You Like It…

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;

Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,

His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion;

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing
The Phoenix and the Turtle

Let the bird of loudest lay

On the sole Arabian tree,

Herald sad and trumpet be,

To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou shrieking harbinger,

Foul precurrer of the fiend,

Augur of the fever’s end,

To this troop come thou not near.
From this session interdict

Every fowl of tyrant wing

Save the eagle, feather’d king:

Keep the obsequy so strict.
Let the priest in surplice white

That defunctive music can,

Be the death-divining swan,

Lest the requiem lack his right.
And thou, treble-dated crow,

That thy sable gender mak’st

With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st,

‘Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
Here the anthem doth commence:—

Love and constancy is dead;

Phoenix and the turtle fled

In a mutual flame from hence.
So they loved, as love in twain

Had the essence but in one;

Two distincts, division none;

Number there in love was slain.
Hearts remote, yet not asunder;

Distance, and no space was seen

‘Twixt the turtle and his queen:

But in them it were a wonder.
So between them love did shine,

That the turtle saw his right

Flaming in the phoenix’ sight;

Either was the other’s mine.
Property was thus appall’d,

That the self was not the same;

Single nature’s double name

Neither two nor one was call’d.
Reason, in itself confounded,

Saw division grow together;

To themselves yet either neither;

Simple were so well compounded,
That it cried, ‘How true a twain

Seemeth this concordant one!

Love hath reason, reason none

If what parts can so remain.’
Whereupon it made this threne

To the phoenix and the dove,

Co-supremes and stars of love,

As chorus to their tragic scene.
BEAUTY, truth, and rarity,

Grace in all simplicity,

Here enclosed in cinders lie.
Death is now the phoenix’ nest;

And the turtle’s loyal breast

To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity:

‘Twas not their infirmity,

It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be;

Beauty brag, but ’tis not she;

Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair

That are either true or fair;

For these dead birds sigh a prayer.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.