Emmanuel Endorphin's Serotonin Sandbox

2006-11-20T01:47:00.000-08:00

Stay Cool Day School

Holy Bong Thomas, how time flies in-between entries! Indeed the Endorphinator has been busier than a stump-tailed cow in fly time these past three months, but now I'm back with a velveteen vengeance, as I sit by myself watching the house until Wednesday when I join my parents in Missouri to meet my grandparents, with my Guayaki Yerba Mate Latte and yellow curry prepared fresh from Thai Pod! :)

Anywho, I am currently putting together my latest concept poetry project titled "Dance Dance Revolutionary", based on my new found fascination and obsession with Dance Dance Revolution, which consists of sixteen original songs that serve as the soundtrack to a story which I am also currently penning, featuring an enthusiastic team of DDR aficionados who are challenged by an imperialistic extraterrestrial overlord and capoeira master who still hasn't solved the case of his father's coordinated slip-up in a galactic dance tournament, and so is going to planet after planet to challenge representatives from each to dance tournaments, where should the inhabitants of each planet lose to him, he would force all money directed to arts, music and P.E cut off from public schools, and a victory would serve as peace and the promotion of arts to each planet in that the overload also values ephebism and reveres those who display it to him.

I hope once I complete both the story and all the songs, I can collaborate with a comic book artist and turn it into a comic book that could be published. Wow, I've dreamed many castles in the clouds here! :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy these first five song lyrics for the soundtrack! (does happy koshiru shuffle) :)

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Dance Dance Revolutionary
By: Noah Eaton
10/21/06

Gonna be a Dance Dance Revolutionary,
glowing through the motions,
singing my body luminary,
dancing what I believe,
where nothing is illusionary,
gonna show the world,
my feet are more than extraordinary.

We’re kaleidoscopically aerobic,
our heels go ricocheting like a pogo stick,
butterfly turning like lovesick gypsies,
burning brightly in impromptu freestyle,
aesthetic of the cool fertile,
making your heart beat faster until it gets zippy.

Gonna be a Dance Dance Revolutionary,
glowing through the motions,
singing my body luminary,
dancing what I believe,
where nothing is illusionary,
gonna show the world,
my feet are more than extraordinary.

The dance mat is gleaming with high voltage,
it’s my intuition that turns the ignition switch,
punctuating this hardcore symphony,
the way we play this game is by listening,
it’s how we get this world glistening,
reaching the ecstasy of harmonic epiphany.

Gonna be a Dance Dance Revolutionary,
glowing through the motions,
singing my body luminary,
dancing what I believe,
where nothing is illusionary,
gonna show the world,
my feet are more than extraordinary.

Gonna be a Dance Dance Revolutionary,
glowing through the motions,
singing my body luminary,
dancing what I believe,
where nothing is illusionary,
gonna show the world,
my feet are more than extraordinary.

Gonna be a Dance Dance Revolutionary,
glowing through the motions,
singing my body luminary,
dancing what I believe,
where nothing is illusionary,
gonna show the world,
my feet are more than extraordinary.

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You Gotta Crawl (Before You Can Walk)
Part Of: "Dance Dance Revolutionary"
By: Noah Eaton
10/24/06

Hey, it takes a little bit of rhythm,
to learn how to talk the talk,
take it slow and easy,
you gotta crawl before you can walk.
Hey, it takes a little bit of patience,
to learn how to stay on beat,
after much practicing,
a new language your feet shall speak.

We were born,
used to standing blended with the crowd,
growing determined to find ourselves,
someday standing out from the crowd,
the possibilities are endless,
like a chain of keys spread out across your hand,
there’s no feeling left to hide,
time to make destiny of where you stand
(Launch your body into orbit!)

(Hey!)
It takes a little bit of rhythm,
to learn how to talk the talk,
take it slow and easy,
you gotta crawl before you can walk.
Hey, it takes a little bit of patience,
to learn how to stay on beat,
after much practicing,
a new language your feet shall speak.

When you sign up for a season,
train your heart to try and see it through,
when you can’t fight the moonlight,
every day begin the task anew,
we’ve all had to slip and stumble,
and look at where that got each of us,
so marry yourself to your favorite beat,
and place in it a pulse of trust.
(Put your body into orbit!)

(Hey!)
It takes a little bit of rhythm,
to learn how to talk the talk,
take it slow and easy,
you gotta crawl before you can walk.
Hey, it takes a little bit of patience,
to learn how to stay on beat,
after much practicing,
a new language your feet shall speak.

(Break it down now!)

(Hey, it’s perseverance,
that made the snail reach the ark,
hey, it’s will-power,
that ignites a star of a spark,
hey, it’s enthusiasm,
that takes us off on a flying start,
hey, you’ve got the vibe now,
now with your heels, impart!

(Hey!)
It takes a little bit of rhythm,
to learn how to talk the talk,
take it slow and easy,
you gotta crawl before you can walk.
Hey, it takes a little bit of patience,
to learn how to stay on beat,
after much practicing,
a new language your feet shall speak.
(Hey!)
It takes a little bit of rhythm,
to learn how to talk the talk,
take it slow and easy,
you gotta crawl before you can walk.
Hey, it takes a little bit of patience,
to learn how to stay on beat,
after much practicing,
a new language your feet shall speak.
(Hey!)

It takes a little bit of rhythm,
to learn how to talk the talk,
take it slow and easy,
you gotta crawl before you can walk.
Hey, it takes a little bit of patience,
to learn how to stay on beat,
after much practicing,
a new language your feet shall speak.

*

Jubilant Journey
(Part Of: "Dance Dance Revolutionary")
By: Noah Eaton
10/26/06

Hey everybody, let’s hurry,
join me on this jubilant journey,
la la la, la dee dee dee,
through rhythm wonderland’s flurry,
you don’t need an attorney,
to tag along on this journey,
la la la, la dee dee dee,
aya, aya, hurry-scurry…

(Hey oh,
hey oh, hey oh, hey oh,
hey oh,
hey oh, hey oh, hey oh!)

Providence resides in chance,
for all those who love adventure,
let’s go where there are no paths,
where we’ll be daydream dispensers,
with flying colors, we’ll travel light,
raving to the music’s honey crisp lisp,
vacationing on this hardcore grand tour,
dizzied by this dance floor’s fevered pitch.

Hey everybody, let’s hurry,
join me on this jubilant journey,
la la la, la dee dee dee,
through rhythm wonderland’s flurry,
you don’t need an attorney,
to tag along on this journey,
la la la, la dee dee dee,
aya, aya, hurry-scurry…

(Hey oh,
hey oh, hey oh, hey oh,
hey oh,
hey oh, hey oh, hey oh!)

We’ll go to the point of no return,
run it like a running faucet,
reflect more light than a house of mirrors,
shining brighter than a china closet,
rotate your hips and try your luck,
move your feet and show some spunk,
pump and dive and jive and jump,
4, 3, 2, 1...

Hey everybody, let’s hurry,
join me on this jubilant journey,
la la la, la dee dee dee,
through rhythm wonderland’s flurry,
you don’t need an attorney,
to tag along on this journey,
la la la, la dee dee dee,
aya, aya, hurry-scurry…

(Hey oh,
hey oh, hey oh, hey oh,
hey oh,
hey oh, hey oh, hey oh!)

(In adventure we find ourselves,
let’s take off on another journey!)

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Friends Forever
(Part Of: "Dance Dance Revolutionary")
By: Noah Eaton
10/28/06

Dee dee doo doo da la la,
dee dee doo doo dee dee da,
dee dee doo doo da la la,
dee dee doo doo dee dee da…

There’s no vessel that can float,
like ol’ sweet Good Ship Friendship,
through your eyes I see new doors,
taking me away to worlds I had never thought to exist,
even when we sit together quietly,
it feels like the best conservation we’ve ever had,
smiling under the same sun,
inspires this feeling that makes me feel so glad.

Dee dee doo doo da la la,
we are friends forever,
like two popsicles stuck together.
Dee dee doo doo da la la,
we are friends forever,
friends forever, you and me…

It takes such a long time,
to grow an old friend in your heart’s garden,
I want to be the gift you give yourself,
so whenever you’re alone I’m your light that heartens,
when you need advice,
I want it to blanket your soul as white as snow,
so when I come and dance inside,
you’ll feel my smile sway to and fro…

Dee dee doo doo da la la,
we are friends forever,
like two popsicles stuck together.
Dee dee doo doo da la la,
we are friends forever,
friends forever, you and me…

Dee dee doo doo da la la,
dee dee doo doo dee dee da,
dee dee doo doo da la la,
dee dee doo doo dee dee da…

Dee dee doo doo da la la,
we are friends forever,
like two popsicles stuck together.
Dee dee doo doo da la la,
we are friends forever,
friends forever, you and me…

Dee dee doo doo da la la,
we are friends forever,
dee dee doo doo da la la,
friends forever, you and me…

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Let’s Cross That Imaginary Bridge (When We Come To It)
(Part Of: “Dance Dance Revolutionary”)
By: Noah Eaton
11/10/06

Roll your inhibitions up like window blinds,
let’s go to the truth beyond the mind,
the prevailing wind rustles at your fingertips,
syncopating rhythm and rhyme,
wonder is the voiceless music of your heart,
that you can dance to swimmingly,
your breath is the bridge,
that unites your body with your dreams…

So dance away, hey hey hey hey,
go ahead and make your favorite wish,
over the rainbow we’ll have a soiree,
let’s cross that imaginary bridge when we come to it,
let’s play, hey hey hey hey,
in castles in the clouds built from bliss,
let’s make that sweet escape, hey hey hey hey,
let’s cross that imaginary bridge when we come to it.

Every moment’s priceless in possibility,
take my hand, let’s kiss the unknown,
raise your sights above the mountains,
and see just how tall you can grow,
wonder is the voiceless music of your heart,
that you can dance to swimmingly,
your breath is the bridge,
that unites your body with your dreams…

So dance away, hey hey hey hey,
go ahead and make your favorite wish,
over the rainbow we’ll have a soiree,
let’s cross that imaginary bridge when we come to it,
let’s play, hey hey hey hey,
in castles in the clouds built from bliss,
let’s make that sweet escape, hey hey hey hey,
let’s cross that imaginary bridge when we come to it.

So dance away, hey hey hey hey,
go ahead and make your favorite wish,
over the rainbow we’ll have a soiree,
let’s cross that imaginary bridge when we come to it,
let’s play, hey hey hey hey,
in castles in the clouds built from bliss,
let’s make that sweet escape, hey hey hey hey,
let’s cross that imaginary bridge when we come to it.

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XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-08-25T15:42:00.000-07:00

My Very Exotic Maid Just Showed Up Nude

Well, it's official; Pluto is no longer officially defined as a planet in the scientific community. With that said, here's a fondest tribute to our little purple gerber widow of the celestial spheres; to me and all trans-planetary dreamers you will always be the pie of the sky, with a special poetic bonus as well; the parrot-headed "Extra Tropical"! :)

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My Very Eccentric Mother Just Shanghaied Underappreciated Nanny Pluto
By: Noah Eaton
8/24/06

Once upon a time,
there was a man named Percival Lowell,
who vowed to find that ninth planet,
if it meant never once resting on his laurels,
you see it was long speculated,
that another planet was perturbing Neptune’s orbit,
just like they suspected with Uranus,
and Neptune was discovered by Sir Johann Gottfried.

Lowell passed away amidst the mission,
but on lived his intergalactic pursuit,
astronomers hypothesized coordinates,
perfected each parabola and square root,
then one day in February 1930,
an astronomer named Clyde Tombaugh,
saw an object moving between photographic plates,
and he declared, “Holy smokes!”

Tombaugh moved on the double,
to Harvard College Observatory,
and when the news struck like lightning,
boy, the meeting erupted into a conservatory,
now all the gas gerber needed was a name,
and nominations came pouring in worldwide,
they included Zeus, Perseus and Prometheus,
but they were all denied.

Then one day a write-in candidate,
stood out and took the biscuit,
credited to a grand-niece cuttie,
living in Oxford, England,
yes, her name was Venetia Phair,
she thought the name should be a monogram,
named after the initials of Percival Lowell,
and Pluto became every space cadet’s hologram!

Then her father the Falconer,
forwarded the golden ticket to Professor Turner,
the response was unanimously favorable,
and was officially announced
by Director Vesto Melvin Slipher…

May I introduce to you Pluto,
she’s to baking like painting’s to Pierre Rousseau,
she’s as peppy as Women’s Day in Maputo,
and can broadcast a game like Phil Rizzuto,
but some detractors can be so rude-o,
they’re obsessed with throwing a feud-o,
narrow-mindedly coming to conclude-o,
that it’s orbit under definition is too skewed-o…
.
.
.
You see, some just can’t tolerate it’s right to exist,
since a very long time ago,
who seem to prefer negativity,
like Ann Coulter or Janeane Garofalo,
arguing, “It hangs on the fringe!”,
or “It’s just an object of the Kuiper Belt!”
or better yet, “It has a wonky, peculiar orbit!”,
I think their propaganda smells like rainbow smelt!

The International Astronomers Union say modern observations,
are changing how we view our solar system,
therefore our nomenclature of objects,
should reflect our current rule of thumb,
ah, I’m in complete agreement there,
Lord knows we can’t dwell in the age of Copernicus,
we mustn’t turn our backs from the future,
we must face the truth like Oedipus.

But then they add planets should be re-defined,
as any round object orbiting the sun,
but if the center of gravity is outside the larger object,
does it not make the smaller object a planet, anyone?
And wouldn’t our own moon,
also be considered a planet,
as it retracts from Earth and forms its barycenter,
or even Janet Jackson!

They’re treating our misunderstood Pluto,
like some Trans-Neptunian Object,
after all she’s done for us all these years,
she receives much willful neglect,
inspiring Mickey Mouse’s sensitive canine,
and songs from Christine Lavin and 2 Skinnee J’s,
and the Hugo Award-winning Starship Troopers,
and that whole Space Battleship Yamato craze.

She guides the guardian of the gates of time,
on the anime favorite “Sailor Moon”,
it’s guest-starred on a Bjork album,
Cowboy Bebop, even Doctor Who...

Why all the hate for dearest Pluto,
their views of her are more overcast than Juneau,
a more misunderstood teacher than Giordano Bruno,
she’s just a shy, celestial bird of Juno,
after inspiring Lean Cuisine frozen food-o,
there’s only a gesture of exclude-o,
despite the contradictory public mood-o,
the IAU don’t want to include-o.
.
.
.
Pluto widely influences astrology as well,
ruling death, rebirth and transformation,
asking us to transcend that which we know,
and come out stronger in appreciation,
it governs our reproductive systems,
and all that is undercover and secret,
but if your Pluto is conjunct with Saturn,
oh, be warned Pluto could also be destructive.

Pluto rules the sign of Scorpio,
my Sun, Mercury and Saturn,
the sign of desire, instincts and magnetism,
braiding each rhythmic pattern,
it has multiple natures,
between the vengeful scorpion and the wise eagle,
and the higher-conscious dove,
transforming passions into something peaceful.

Pluto is in the crumbling of every empire,
and every tragic event,
as well as the phoenix of hope that rises,
that accents re-birth as hearts mend,
and in the heart of each Indigo Child,
in the mind of each detective,
who searches for truths among the chaos,
seeking clarity from their perspectives.

Yet some merely like to snub their thumbs,
on their noses daring the lil’ purple’s existence,
loving to mock and laugh and slander,
and never keeping their distance,
Raphael's Astronomical Ephemeris of the Planets' Places,
didn’t even include it on its longitude tables,
stuck back as late as 1975 on Page 39,
dismissed as a hunk of debris fable.

What is the sign of Scorpio,
destined to be ruled by now,
will Mars rule both this sign and Aries,
each day from here on out…

What a poor easy target, that Pluto,
ganging on the underdog like Bluto,
unleashing all their judo,
on our mysterious cousin Pluto,
if only they could construe-o,
a reason for her to be reviewed-o,
but they’d rather like her to be denude-o,
love to boo and collude-o…
.
.
.
Meanwhile the plot thickens,
they want to group Pluto with a new clique,
they call themselves the Plutons,
all with their own unique sort of schtick,
they’re all round Pluto-sized spheres,
beyond the realm of Neptune,
with orbital periods that exceed 200 years,
impugned as an eccentric sort of platoon.

They include Charon,
a fellow moon of Pluto that’s almost inertial,
(No, that’s Charon, not Charo,
you must have fell asleep watching that Geico commerical!)
And then here we have Ceres,
the largest object in the asteroid belt,
orbiting the sun between Mars and Jupiter,
ooh la la, isn’t she svelte.

And finally there’s 2003 UB313,
or better known tentatively as Xena,
some theorize she has a feminine battle cry,
like a laughing hyena,
I can ever imagine the Klingons,
laughing away when we break the story,
that 92% of eighth-graders list that planet,
on their tests as UB-40!

Holy sweet Alaskan asparagus tips,
does Pluto only exist now in those who dream,
like Philip K. Dick of “UBIK”,
and Joseph Michael Straczynski,
am I doomed to crawl into my dryer,
and pretend it’s a spaceship porthole,
and stare at an enlarged boysenberry on a tapestry,
imagining I’ve found you, Planet Pluto.

Now thousands of scientists,
have planet-napped my frigid beauty in Prague,
it’s got me and fellow geeks worked up,
like a bunch of pickerel frogs…

This is an ode to dear Pluto,
long a symbol of controversy on the news shows,
I guess to some it was never born under a halo,
taunting and haunting her like Cujo,
why must some always be so crude-o,
have a preference to seclude-o,
well, you always set my mood-o…

oh dearest...

dearest...

...Pluto...

(Tell your second cousins,
Hygiea, Pallas, Ixion and Vesta,
Varuna, Quaoar, Orcus and Sedna
that I said hi…

…as far as I see it,
you will always be,
the pie of the sky!)

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Extra Tropical
By: Noah Eaton
8/22/06

(Nothing like daydreaming in ¾ time,
like taking a siesta in a tire swing,
being stranded on a sandbar,
living like a gypsy on a bee sting fling.)

Me and my baby were on a tropical contact high,
down on the Pink Beach of the Bahamas,
steel drum symphonies were playing more capriciously,
than can be depicted in any closet drama,
beachcombing these shores like Eleutheran adventurers,
wading in cursive waters the color of candy floss,
inviting as your fantasy fashion photo shoot backdrop,
winking to me more revelling than the finest wine of Alsace.

She was as effervescent as an island’s prime season,
pirouetting upon each shady veranda,
leaving dusty chairs for those with greater reason,
freeing each piece of her heart from memoranda…

…cause she’s counting each of her days as a separate life!

Live your life and forget your age,
not all you see is optical,
breathe in the unforgettable hibiscus,
see how life can be extra tropical…

Extra tropical!
(She shakes me like a hurricane!)
Extra tropical!
(She wears her smiles like a daisy chain!)
Extra tropical!
(Her spunk and poise is contagious!)
Extra tropical!
(It’s so cute when it becomes outrageous!)

Some learn their whole lives to agree with nature,
she must have been born with a leaf of grass on her tongue,
she believes in all of the work of the stars,
youth was never meant to be high-strung,
so she lets her spirit jig like a giddy katydid,
across each hidden side of a summer’s leaf,
she partakes more than tea breaks and banana pancakes,
she leis it on the line if you know what I mean.

She is well aware no instruction book,
ever came supplied with Spaceship Earth,
she just floats amidst the blueberry popsicle skies,
drifting across imagination’s vibrating firth…

……cause she’s counting each of her days as a separate life!

Live your life and forget your age,
not all you see is optical,
breathe in the unforgettable hibiscus,
see how life can be extra tropical…

Extra tropical!
(She shakes me like a hurricane!)
Extra tropical!
(She wears her smiles like a daisy chain!)
Extra tropical!
(Her spunk and poise is contagious!)
Extra tropical!
(It’s so cute when it becomes outrageous!)

(Steel drum solo!)

Wanna take a little joy ride,
hang glide on the bright side,
wanna take a bright vacation,
dedicated to decoration,
belly buster dive into your creation,
acclimate to it like a crustacean,
develop a fixation,
with your inner-space station!

Live your life and forget your age,
not all you see is optical,
breathe in the unforgettable hibiscus,
see how life can be extra tropical…

Extra tropical!
(She shakes me like a hurricane!)
Extra tropical!
(She wears her smiles like a daisy chain!)
Extra tropical!
(Her spunk and poise is contagious!)
Extra tropical!
(It’s so cute when it becomes outrageous!)

(That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it,
that’s my philosophy, believe it if you wish,
building a tree house on the tallest palmetto,
duetting to a macaw’s larking libretto.)

*

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XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-08-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

My Very Enigmatic Mother Wants To Take Away My Pizza (Or Life On 2003UB313?)

Holy Alderaan, our neighborhood may about to get much more crowded!

This week, a new era may dawn, as the International Astronomical Union has convened at the Prague Congress Centre in Prague, Czech Republic for the XXVIth General Assembly of the International Astronomical Union since last Monday, who will be addressing there through August 25th, and will vote this week on a resolution titled “Draft Resolution 5 for GA-XXVI: Definition of a Planet“, which, for the first time in the union’s 87-year history, will have a high-level committee recommending the word “planet” be officially defined according to both scientific and historic standards. The resolution also considers the following:

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1) Contemporary observations are changing our understanding of the Solar System, so therefore our nomenclature for objects should reflect our modern, popular understanding of them. This should particularly apply to the term "planets", where the word originally described “wanderers” that were only moving lights in the sky, and that recent discoveries call for an updated definition due to new scientific information.

2) Under the above understanding, planets should be defined as “celestial bodies that (a) have sufficient mass for their self-gravity to overcome rigid body forces so that they assume a hydrostatic equilibrium (nearly round) shape1, and (b) are in orbit around a star, and are neither stars nor satellites of a planet.”

3) In considering the above definition, that we should again distinguish between the eight classical planets discovered before 1900, which move in nearly circular orbits close to the ecliptic plane, and other planetary objects in orbit around the Sun, with all other objects smaller than Mercury, and because of this, Ceres, a round asteroid and the largest object in the asteroid belt orbiting the sun between Mars and Jupiter, should be considered a planet by the above scientific definition. (Ceres historically has been distinguished from the classical planets as a "dwarf planet.”)

4) Pluto is recognized as a planet by the above scientific definition, as are one or more recently discovered large Trans-Neptunian Objects (including Charon, a moon of Pluto, and 2003UB313, a.k.a Xena, a round Pluto-sized sphere out in the limits of our current space scope) which in contrast to the classical planets typically have highly inclined orbits with large eccentricities and orbital periods in excess of 200 years, and in result this particular category of planetary objects should be renamed “plutons”, with Pluto remaining the prototype, so that they stand out from the eight classical planets.

5) All non-planet objects orbiting the Sun will be called "Small Solar System Bodies"

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Also, should this resolution be passed when it is voted on this Thursday, other likelihoods will include the following:

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1) Given all the nuances of the definition, a dozen other space objects will make a list of “candidate planets” by the union, which could eventually increase the tally of classified planets in our solar system to 24 (they are Hygiea, Pallas, Vesta, Ixion, Varuna, Quaoar, Orcus, Sedna, 2002 TX300, 2002 AW197, 2003 EL61 and 2005 FY9.)

2) If Pallas, Vesta, and/or Hygeia are found to be in hydrostatic equilibrium, they are also planets, and may be referred to as "dwarf planets".

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But not everyone is excited about possibly giving Pluto getting the downgrade. Because Harvard astronomer Owen Gingerich, who heads this committee, considers the definition of a planet an “object that orbits a star like the sun; is massive enough so its own gravity keeps it roughly round; and isn't a satellite of another planet, like the moon.”, other astronomers are saying things like, “Hey, you just hold your horses there a second, Charon, you all act as though you’re all that, orbiting around the sun as round as can be and all, but what’s up with you orbiting Pluto too, sounds like satellite scurvy to me!“ and “Yo Ceres, I thought you said you were an asteroid, now you say you want to be a planet, what’s up with that?”

Michael Brown of Caltech, Chadwick Trujillo of the Gemini Observatory atop Mauna Kea in Hawaii and David Rabinowitz of Yale also all discovered 2003 UB 313 (or Xena: Warrior Planet) three years ago, and have found many more remarkable discoveries since then in the millions of miles between Neptune and Pluto in the Kuiper Belt, where Pluto was discovered in 1930. Brown is one of the major critics of Resolution 5, saying, “I’m totally confused, they say Xena's a planet, but Sedna and Quaoar also fit the definition, so why aren't they being called planets, too? And Charon's a satellite of Pluto, so why is it a planet? It's not; it's a moon. That committee's definition is an effort to combine science and culture, and it doesn't do either.” He adds that with all the new round orbiting objects that astronomers have detected in the Kuiper Belt, the number of planets should total at least 53 by current standards.

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Charo In New Geico Commerical

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So, as you can see……..they’re playin’ Fizzbin with our solar system, leaving us like the Sigma Iotia II with nothing to say but “…….Zah?” as the rules continue to change with every fluffy shuffle. Understanding the gas giants these days is…..well……a gas……and if we’ve actually come to the conclusion that any big mass that’s round and circles a star is a planet, then by all means make Charo, not Charon a planet! Come on, let’s dance the Regolith Reggaeton…you know, that dance that really should be called two dogs humping, kind of like spooning but as you know, spooning can lead to forking, but don’t you miscon-mess with me……ahhhhh, never mind, um, err, Cuchi-Cuchi! LOL!

For the love of Io Plasma Torus, stop confusing our lil’ aspiring space cadets who, like Fred Z. Randall in the 1997 comedy “Rocketman” when as a child he’d crawl into his mother’s washing machine and going for a spin cycle, pretending as he peers out of his window that it’s his spaceship porthole and staring at a tapestry of the Earth, admiring it as a “giant blueberry”. (smiles) And holy sweet Alaskan asparagus tips, we know where his dreams take him when he’s thirty; far off into the red deserts of Mars and goes on a crazy food-tube-a-palooza when his chimp cadet Ulysses steals his hypersleep pod! Sweet swirling onion rings, that was as precious as dental floss at a Willie Nelson concert! (giggles) For the love of God, spare their fragile colorful minds of this Sirius red tape, or red dwarf tape is it?

Besides, think of what this will mean for our children’s school textbooks. The Klingons will be laughing themselves out of their fusion-powered rocket chairs when they learn in 2012 that 92% of eighth-graders answered that Pluto-sized sphere in the far reaches of our galaxy as UB40 on their science exams. Then you wake up at their high school level and find out that the line broke, the monkey got choke and burned bad rizla pon him little rowing boat! (giggles)

But most of all, a huge change to our planetary line-up will also mean a huge change to our understanding of Western astrology…..especially my sun sign! (Eek!) As you are well aware, Pluto rules Scorpio, as Pluto rules sex, psychology, death, and regeneration, as well as the transformative evolution of the collective in simplest of terms. Should Pluto be downgraded into a “Pluton”, it will significantly affect the nature of Scorpios such as myself in Western understanding, which may very well make sense in that Pluto represents transformations and metamorphosis and such an evolution was inevitable, for a planet that has brought you such phenomenons as Stouffers Corner Bistro cuisines and nuclear fusion! So you may expect to see me undergo some huge transformations these forthcoming months or so, as well as with the Eighth House and may spell new changes for rulership of Mercury and Venus, which both currently have double-rulers (Mercury rules both Gemini and Virgo, while Venus rules both Taurus and Libra)

As for the new proposed planets, they can offer revolutionary changes to how we observe western astrology as well. For instance, Ceres, discovered in 1801, is the Roman name for the Greek goddess Demeter, which rules agriculture, sustenance and motherhood, and known especially as the mother who saw her daughter Persephone vanish into the underworld of Hades/Pluto after being tempted with pomegranate seeds, during which she created a perpetual winter until her daughter was returned. And right now, astrologers are arguing what sign Ceres will rule if it becomes a planet, where some believe it should rule Virgo because of its striving to seek perfection in life through learning and also that Ceres was an unmarried woman, while others think Cancer fits Ceres far more because Ceres was also a fiercely, nurturing protective mother, willing to sacrifice the good of her people for the sake of her daughter, which contradicts Virgo’s notion of serving the likes of others, with Cancer also being the cardinal sign for the summer season when Demeter returns home from the underworld to her mother and the growing begins.

What I also find fascinating about Ceres, if it becomes a planet, is that in many minds it would represent the rebirth of interest and respect for traditional farming methods, which has already begun with environmental deterioration, genetically-modified organisms, pesticides and other elements in which undermine our agricultural process being challenged with the comeback of organic farming worldwide, and could also be the symbol of awareness to the increasing demand to turn to alternative fuels and energies.

There’s also fascinating insights into what the characterizing of other planets may mean for Western astrology. Below are some fascinating insights I’ve read regarding various planets, as well as the mysterious “Indigo Children”, a “different” generation that began when both Pluto and Quaoar entered Scorpio four days after I was born in November 1983, which are beginning to graduate from college and are in many astrologers’ minds the generation that will REALLY make changes and transformations in the world that their parents largely failed to accomplish. Enjoy!

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Quaoar & The Indigo Children

2003 UB313 & The Female Archetype Of The Warrior

Sedna

Orcus

The Centaurs

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Whatever saucy (or sinister) schemes are on those egghead’s minds this week in Prague, I encourage all y’all to keep watching the skis......wha.......oh sorry, skies, keep watching the skies! Per Ardua, Ad Astra!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-08-15T21:44:00.000-07:00

Flushed Print Of The Poetic Poppy

Here are some new saffrom summer treats to wet your whimsical whistle.....and might I recommend that if you're surfing the World Wide Web this week to head to your cyber cafe and enjoy the endorphiny experience beyond your laptop.....it's proving to be a disc-o inferno out there today! (giggles) Long live my HP Pavilion f1503! :)

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Margarita Pedicure
By: Noah Eaton
8/15/06

I’ve seen a hundred disco sunrises,
been to foam parties all across Ibiza,
I’ve flown all across the island,
just to try all sorts of exotic pizza,
the Gomorrah of the Med,
has become my Cytherea,
I took more minds on a trip than Boy George,
funking to the Baleraic Beat at the Amnesia.

I’ve traveled from the top of Angel Falls,
to the tip of Patagonia,
my suitcase is stamped with so many travel stickers,
I suspect my neighbors have hodophobia,
now my feet are rubbed raw and blistered,
I could sure deodorize those tired tootsies,
they deserve a little special attention,
so I’m pulling up a beach chair
to make them primed for footsies.

Gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
soak my feet in Epson salt,
rub them with shea butter,
gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
gonna spend a warm summer day,
by the poolside where the sunshine putters.

The Papallacta Hot Springs,
know how to give a warm stone massage,
wearing avocado slice monocles,
my face has become a breathing key lime pie collage,
sporting stockings of seaweed,
tropical sun seasoning me with a citrus splash,
then I’ll be off for the Volcan de Lodo El Tutomo,
for a toxin-burning mountain dash.

Gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
soak my feet in Epson salt,
rub them with shea butter,
gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
gonna spend a warm summer day,
by the poolside where the sunshine putters.

They got aquatic jogging,
they got hydrogymnastics,
they got vibrosaunas,
that leave you tripping the light fantastic,
you’ll never feel purer in your life,
‘til you attend their Inipi ceremony,
mitauke oyasin,
with summer I'm making holy matrimony!

Gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
soak my feet in Epson salt,
rub them with shea butter,
gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
gonna spend a warm summer day,
by the poolside where the sunshine putters.

Only in summer does laziness find respectability,
it's in the eyes of a caterpillar we find palatability,
inventing romance like a smitten nightingale,
the amount of laughter you spill
can never be measured on the Brix scale.

Gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
soak my feet in Epson salt,
rub them with shea butter,
gonna get me a margarita pedicure,
gonna spend a warm summer day,
by the poolside where the sunshine putters...

...gonna sit by the poolside,
where the sunshine sputters...

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Gillyweed Ranzmalkin, The Gnome On A Pole
By: Noah Eaton
8/13/06

Lurching up there,
from his lofty perch,
sitting right above,
the Calhoun Falls Baptist Church,
loiters as taciturn,
as a village cherry birch,
a seventeen inch tall crackerjack,
of doggerel verse,
he’s a pale-faced pantaloon,
all dressed up in motley,
gardeners are intimidated by his stare,
as though he’s V.I Warshawski,
no one’s sure if this is some publicity stunt,
or if he just sites there like some Maltese cat,
maybe he just loves a first-class seat,
to behold some old world chat.

Gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
among some it’s generating,
a heightened row,
gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
standing stonily quiet from his tall abode.

Among some folklore fruitcakes,
Gillyweed Rainmaking’s a working class hero,
but he’s got his disparagers too,
including his troll neighbor Nacklemadge Yamashiro,
and the Garden Gnome Liberation Front,
has trained a reconnoiterer woodpecker,
plotting to gnome-nap this josher,
deport him back to Lamport Hall in Northamptonshire,
but generally speaking, most have come to his defense,
such as Freiden Farfrigraganuergen,
founder of the group Gnomes In Space,
with a face as green as a gherkin,
he’s holding talks with the church groundskeeper,
who swears Gillyweed’s peering at her over the hedge rows,
by the looks of it,
it may take years to agree to a quid pro quo.

Gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
his flesh is as powdery,
as dry pastry dough,
gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
flooding the headlines on local talk shows.

Gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
beginning to have mushrooms,
growing out of his big toe,
gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
tourists have begun pouring in,
from to and fro,
gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
he spots stolen doughnut trucks,
faster than you can say “Inspector Costeau!”,
gnome on a pole,
gnome on a pole,
who knows what secrets,
this lavender cone-hatted uncle bestows.

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Gravity Assist
By: Noah Eaton
8/5/06

Let me show you a secret,
that I’ve always wanted to share,
because fiction reveals deep truths,
that reality can dissolve into thin air,
walking this interplanetary dust cloud tightrope,
4,700 kilometers between Saturn’s rings,
gently falling in the direction,
that your gravity carries me.

Cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
that flies light years beyond our wildest dreams...

Swimming between faces in scrapbooks,
that I’ve recognized for so long,
daydreaming August afternoons away,
imagining I’m bringing you along,
there’s so much I want to say,
there’s so much I want you to know,
sometimes I feel tempted,
pushing Saturn into some black hole.

Cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
that flies light years beyond our wildest dreams…

Cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
that flies light years beyond our wildest dreams…

You’re my moon-kissed mermaid,
diving in the seas of the Milky Way,
your eyelashes gleam brighter than the sun’s corona,
during a Vanuatu honeymoon...

…no pair of binoculars,
nor any choice of words,
can describe this amorous homesick feeling,
blowing over me like a sand dune in Cancun...
.
.
.
Everything you imagine must be real,
cause everything happens when you dream,
my perception is like a rocket,
destined to chase you around the galaxies’ jet stream...

Cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
that flies light years beyond our wildest dreams…

Cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
cause imagination is our highest kite,
that flies light years beyond our wildest dreams...

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Down By The Waterfront
By: Noah Eaton
7/2/06

Couples speed along the lane,
on their ten-speed bikes,
along the sparkling Willamette,
when the summer afternoon is ripe,
it’s hot as a pair of jumper cables,
at a tailgate party barbecue,
so I walk barefoot on the grass along the sidewalk,
and lie there staring up into the blue.

Down by the waterfront,
in the summer heat,
on a treasure hunt,
for carefree festivity…

The sound of meaty blues guitar,
fills the scenery with electricity,
young lovers drive up on cavalries of motorboats,
just so they can lay back and hear them swing,
a captain’s laughter echoes from Riverplace Marina.
you can swear he commandeers Lady Washington,
I feel I could chase this river down,
all the way to Tualatin.

Down by the waterfront,
in the summer heat,
on a treasure hunt,
for carefree festivity…

If you saw a heat wave,
would you wave it right back,
let it pack away your troubles,
and send them off to extended summer camp,
I can only begin to imagine all you’ll share with me,
when you first buzz by like a dragonfly,
with dockside delights doubly as divine,
each and every hot summer night.

Down by the waterfront,
in the summer heat,
on a treasure hunt,
for carefree festivity...

Down by the waterfront,
in the summer heat,
on a treasure hunt,
for carefree festivity...

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Injection Fairy Lily
By: Noah Eaton
6/29/06

Heart of clear water,
plush Amazoness tiger,
flittering like a butterfly in zero gravity,
graceful charity,
kaleidoscopic dexterity,
riddling every cloud of summer with cavities,
stir-fried in a mystic wok,
basted in the Saigon dawn.
lost in the labyrinth of her fitting room,
a pineapple blast,
vast and unsurpassed,
ooh, the indigo broom of her perfume...

Injection fairy lily,
silly but sweet as Chantilly,
a flute of summoning dragon,
with her scroll of bewitchment,
the muse of all magicians,
my casual lazy summer morning tea wagon...

Token of thanksgiving,
transcendent wings reliving,
with twin swords of flashing light,
a walking hidden book of spell,
with a heart of the underdog’s heavy swell,
arousing youth in every carpet knight,
a mermaid gymnast in a voodoo tutu,
with a meadow rue tattoo,
caretaker of the cocoon of evolution,
atomic firefly that winks like a sphinx,
just a pinch of high jinks can put you to forty winks,
she’s my celestial transformation Lilliputian.

Injection fairy lily,
silly but sweet as Chantilly,
a flute of summoning dragon,
with her scroll of bewitchment,
the muse of all magicians,
my casual lazy summer morning tea wagon...

(Oh ho ho,
star chips,
my favorite,
oh ho ho!)

Injection fairy lily,
silly but sweet as Chantilly,
a flute of summoning dragon,
with her scroll of bewitchment,
the muse of all magicians,
my casual lazy summer morning tea wagon...

...injection fairy lily...

...silly but sweet as Chantilly...

...injection fairy lily...

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XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-08-11T17:55:00.000-07:00

The Dream Life Of Lampy The Lamport

Well, aren’t we feeling all Nac Mac Feegle today! I certainly know our fellow Fulton, Missouri residents Don and Karen Walker are in that their red-capped, knee-length bearded buddy Edgar has returned to home sweet home after being gnome-napped for over two months, from the end of May through last Sunday, when he was returned by a stranger with 56 photographs, all featuring his truly in all his lil’ escapades out West, along with an anonymous note which read the following:

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“My friend and I apologize if we caused you any undue worry due to the loss of your gnome. He is no doubt something of high value. Rest assured, though, we took special care of him on the duration of our trip, and have had from the beginning every intention of returning him to you. Please enjoy the pictures. We have included some of our destinations (with) your gnome, who we affectionately named Edgar. Sincerely, ? & X.”

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Nuh-uh, I didn’t fall asleep from watching that gnome in the Travelocity commercials again this time. This is the real deal. Yep, it is strange how a Christmas gift from your mother-in-law can suddenly become the unexpected travel narrator. But ol’ Edgar did just that, hittin’ the road in his brown boots from the Walkers’ front porch out into the True Blue with Samantha Sixpack and Chan Siu Ming, traveling across at least seven state lines (Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, Colorado and Kansas)

So what’d you say we take a brief mystical journey into our invisible Fisher Price 3D View-Master, and reel past just some of the Reel Cards of Edgar’s misadventures. Just sit back and then, try to picture this intense imagery and then run the images through your mind like triptychs from top to bottom really fast as if it was a negative film of a cartoon. God Bless William Gruber, he's a true genius, for among all those children's classics out there, the View-Master will never grow obsolete as the films just keep coming! Crreeaaaakkkk...TWANG!!! Slide 1: Oh, lookey, there's me with a pecan log from Stuckeys! Crrreeeaaaakkkkkk...TWANG!!! Slide 2: Hehehe, check out that low-rider bicycle! Here, you take it from here! TWAANNGGG!

Slide 1: Aye, here I am at the Kansas-Colorado border! Would you believe they have a town named Kanorado here? When I first stepped foot into town for a twenty-two ounce flask of Zauberlinda Jelly, I was so shy I wish there was a toadstool I could hide behind. But ohhhhh, Kanorado is such a small, friendly town. They let me hop aboard this Drover Rail Car that is over a hundred years old, treated me to the Piper At The Gates Of Dawn Special at the Little Butterfly Café, and have even invited me to their Christmas party at the post office later this year. Aye, parting is such sweet sorrow, but the Centennial State should provide plenty more colorful odes, ho ho!

Slide 2: Holy Kallikantzaroi! Who knew you could be the visitor of four states at once? Aye, if I wanted I could construct a tall pole exactly where the corners of all four states touch, build a little glass dome castle on top of it, and I could obtain legal residence to all four states! Ahhhhh…imagine having the Arizona sun at my back, the Utah sand dunes at my sight, that New Mexico enchantment enhance my imagination and those Colorado colors imbue my dreams! How I fancy that!

.......and so on! Just keepin' it Reel, y'all! LOL! Yep, word has it that Edgar also has a taste for the eccentric, including sharing a moment with the World’s Largest Prairie Dog in Colby, Kansas, spending a night under the stars with the Klingons at Area 51, and visiting Oakley, Kansas as well, home to the six-legged steer, a five-legged cow, a Russian wild boar, and Roscoe the miniature donkey. Apparently, he also lost some innocence at one point in his epic journey, when he was caught red-mitten gloved underneath a sign for the Boom Boom Cabaret, a famous topless club in Amarillo, Texas.

Edgar also made his share of friends beyond the beaten path, including a toll-booth worker on the Kansas Turnpike, and a biker decked in black paused to take a snapshot with him before riding off on his motorcycle. Just the sorts of faces that would even make Amelie glow green with envy!

Yep, ever since Edgar has returned home for well-deserved relaxation from his cross-country voyage, he has remained stonily quiet about his summer adventure, just lettin’ those pictures do the talking. Also to his delight, he now has a little brother added to his family, who has been standing in the very spot he was in part of the two months he was away. Perhaps someday his new little brother will be on a trip of his very own, and can have lots of exciting anecdotes to tell Edgar in the coming years. Rumor has it his lifelong dream is to visit Nome, Alaska! (giggles)

It remains a mystery what tempted Edgar to leave his garden home? One theory is that the Blue Fairy whispered the idea in his ear, a second suggests he was a fan of Bilbo Baggins and wanted to emulate his famous journies. Yet another theory is that he has been longing liberation, and in a clandestine manner contacted the Garden Gnome Liberation Fronts, or GGLF; an organization that “stand for the liberation of garden gnomes." that believes that each of these plastic gnome statues have spirits within, as well as human rights, and take them, leave them in the woods with claim tickets, smash the plastic statues, and let their spirits free from their material exterior, where their spirits return to Mother Nature and the woods. However, in an attempt to reach the envoy, a counter-GGLF group, Mischievious Melismatics For Gnome Globetrotting, beat them to the clock and foiled their coup. (giggles)

And yes, there really is a Garden Gnome Liberation Front, which is largely an underground movement as their primary methods of liberation often subvert local trespass and property laws. There is also a separate but related group, which goes by the name Free The Gnomes, a legitimate political wing of the subversive Garden Gnome Liberation Front, which seeks to further the rights of gnomes around the world through legal, non-violent means. The fundamental premise of this and most Garden Gnome Liberation groups is that Gnomes, like humans, have an inalienable right to freedom, and have a mission core belief that forcing Gnomes to stand in gardens without just compensation and against their free will is equivalent to slavery, thus is immoral. One such refuge for freedom loving gnomes is the European Gnome Sanctuary in Barga, Tuscany. Of course, there are others who believe that Garden Gnomes are non-sentient, and that concern for their well-being are exaggerated, as depicted in the campaign Gnomes In Space.

Anyway, wanna bet that Edgar’s little brother will be named David? LOL! Remember that cartoon, “David The Gnome”? I used to watch that often as a little boy on Nickelodeon, which is based on the children’s books written by Rien Poortvliet and Wil Huygen. David is probably one of my earliest influences to my pacifist beliefs, in that David was that kind of guy who believed goodness would always prevail eventually, and had a heart full of faith that together each gnome would play their faithful roles. I miss that lil’ sage sooooooooo much, but his theme song lyrics of wisdom shall forever be penned in my heart:

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"Look around you.
There are many things to see,
that some would say could never be.
These things I know.
It's true and I will tell you so.
They are there to see, if you believe.

Trolls and wizards and fairy kings,
birds that talk and fish that sing.
And if your heart is true, then you will find them too.
In every wish and dream and happy home,
you will find a kingdom of the Gnomes."

*

So I ask y’all, as Granny D says, to let your spirits soar, for she says, “Our joy is our longbow!”, and may we let our joy travel about like David on his trusty fox Swift, who we can summon just by whistling! (giggles) David For President, Edgar For The Department Of Folklore! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-31T16:40:00.000-07:00

Ardent, Amazing Astrological Artichoke

I just thought I'd take the moment to share my full-length astrological reading to y'all, for y'all who want to get to know the widest breadth of me as influenced by the cosmos! (giggles) Here it is:

My Astrological Natal Chart

My Full-Length Astrological Report

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Section 1: General Characteristics

Your fundamental needs, values, and orientation towards life are symbolized by the four astrological elements. Each person has their own unique balance of these four basic energies: fire (warmth, inspiration, enthusiasm), earth (practicality, realism, material interests), air (social and intellectual qualities), and water (emotional needs and feelings).

Your "elemental make-up" is described below. Remember that most people are "unbalanced" or lopsided, and if you are lacking or deficient in a certain element (or elements), it simply means that you need to consciously develop that aspect of yourself to learn to appreciate and/or to work harder in that dimension of life.

Sometimes we overvalue the element that we are least endowed with, sensing it as a lack within ourselves, but more often we neglect or ignore it. The qualities described below will be reiterated and explained in more detail in the following chapters.

It is very difficult for you to be objective, detached, or to view a situation from anyone else's point of view - your own feelings and personal experiences color your judgment too much. Though you may sympathize or feel for someone, you may in fact not really understand where they are coming from.

You need to develop the ability to stand back and reflect on life, to analyze a situation logically. Also, it's very important for you to learn to communicate. Because you sense and feel so much, you may expect others to know what you are experiencing without telling them anything. As mentioned above, words don't come easily to you but you would benefit greatly by learning to articulate and express yourself verbally - otherwise you can stew in your own feelings too much, or find yourself at the mercy of your own poorly-understood emotional patterns.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 1:
Water is Strong, Air is Weak (F,E,A,W Scores = 4,8,1,36)

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Section 2: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others

The following is a description of your basic stance towards life, the way others see you, the way you come across, the face you show to the world. In Chapter 3 you will read about the "The Inner You: Your Real Motivation", which describes the kind of person you are at heart and where your true priorities lie. Read this chapter and the next one and compare them - there may be significant differences between them, in which case "the inner you" may not shine through and others are in for some surprises when they get to know you at a more than superficial level. This chapter describes the costume you wear, your role in life, while Chapter 3 talks about the real person inside the costume.

You are very strong-willed and proud, but intensely private and not easy to know well. Behind your quiet exterior lies a great deal of emotional depth, sensitivity, complexity, and also fierce determination. When you want something you go after it rather quietly but insistently and wholeheartedly - and you usually get it.

You are not a person who lives lightly or superficially. You want to live passionately and intensely and are not averse to challenge, danger, or to facing the darker side of life - human pain and struggle. You function well in crisis situations and often seek them out, for you enjoy the feeling of living at full capacity.

You are very intuitive about other people and especially about their unspoken feelings and hidden motives. You usually have strong, immediate gut reactions, either positive or negative, which prove to be correct. You approach life very instinctively and are not always fully conscious of why you feel or act as you do. You also have a very strong affinity with animals - an acute sensitivity and a nonverbal kind of rapport with them.

In relation to others, you are rather cautious, sometimes even suspicious, until you get to know and trust them - and trust doesn't come easily to you. When you commit yourself emotionally to someone, be it friend or lover, you are intensely loyal and devoted to them and you also expect the same kind of unwavering, undying loyalty in return. If you are ever betrayed by someone you care deeply for, you are capable of hating and retaliating with as much fervor as you once loved. Nothing is done halfway. In fact, you are intensely involved and often jealously attached to whatever you care about, be it person, idea, or cause. There is definitely a streak of emotional fanaticism in you.

Because of your natural reserve, others may see you as something of an enigma. You are quite self-protective and often defensive. You are also very magnetic, especially to members of the opposite sex.

You have a sweet, appealing demeanor and seem instinctively to grasp the concept that "you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar". Your personal brand of charm is usually quite winning. You coax rather than coerce. However, if you do not get what you want, you are likely to resort to insincere flattery, wheedling, whining, or pouting rather than stating directly what you need, or doing for yourself. You seem to need others' approval first.

You are assertive and bold. You are willing to be the first person to speak up and make your position known, and to strike out on your own if necessary. You generally get along better with men than with women because your approach is quite direct and sometimes tactless and insensitive as well. You can be a bit too forceful. However, your boldness is your calling card, and most people feel that you can at least be trusted to be honest with them.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 2:
Scorpio Rising
Venus Sextile Asc.
Mars Sextile Asc.

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Section 3: The Inner You: Your Real Motivation

Many of the traits discussed in the previous chapter are emphasized again below. Your intuition is usually correct, but there are also times when you obstinately and passionately pursue your goal when a more flexible attitude and open communication with others would benefit you greatly.

Quiet, deep, emotionally complex and intensely private, you are not a person who is easy to get to know and understand. You are extremely sensitive but disinclined to show it, and you allow only a special few into your inner world. Like a wary animal, you are cautious and mistrustful of those you do not know until you "sniff them out". You are very, very instinctive and intuitive. You usually have a strong, immediate gut reaction to people, even though you may be unable to clearly articulate why you feel as you do. Your feelings and perceptions go deeper than words.

You also have a powerful need for deep emotional involvement and you form very intense love bonds and attachments. You are possessive and often jealous of anyone or anything that you perceive as a threat to your bond with someone you love. When you commit yourself to someone or something, you are wholeheartedly devoted and expect complete loyalty in return. You merge with or "marry" the person you love at a very deep level and therefore separations are extremely painful for you, and often stormy and nasty. When you have been wounded, you are not inclined to turn the other cheek and will retaliate if at all possible. Certainly you will never forget the injury and often you harbor grievances and resentments for a long, long time. Forgiveness doesn't come easily to you.

Whatever you do, you do with passion and fervor, and you often go to extremes. You are either hot or cold, never lukewarm about anything. You can also be very narrow: either you are 100% involved in something or else it doesn't exist for you at all. Rarely are you emotionally detached and objective. You definitely have a fanatical streak. You are also immensely strong-willed and your tenacity in pursuing your objectives often borders on being obsessive. Fierce pride, courage, and emotional strength are yours in abundance.

You love mysteries and are deeply attracted to the hidden, dark, secret side of life. You never take things at face value and are always probing beneath the surface of people and situations to discover what is REALLY going on. You tend to be more of a cynic than an idealist.

You tend to get involved in the helping professions or in activities where your efforts are hidden, behind the scenes, unacknowledged, or unknown to the public. Asserting yourself or getting up in front of an audience may be exceedingly uncomfortable for you.

You tend to see things from your perspective only and to be rather subjective. You also enjoy talking and expressing your views but you don't always listen as well. You have a clear mind, a love of learning and new experiences, and need constant mental stimulation and activity.

You have a mature and often somber demeanor. You are serious, reserved, self-disciplined, highly responsible and conscientious. You advance in life rather slowly, through your own efforts and persistence. You are also rather stern and judgmental, especially with yourself. Cautious and careful, it is difficult for you to really let go, to be spontaneous and playful. You like to be in control of yourself.

Inwardly you are zealous and fanatical, though you may hide your personal desires and intentions, and the intensity of your feelings. You are driven by a deep inner sense of destiny and mission and an almost compulsive desire for personal recognition. You have an infatuation with power and are incredibly willful and stubbornly fixated on achieving greatness or being Somebody Special. You tend to worship heroes who have powerful personal magnetism and charisma, and often seek to
emulate them. You have potential for tremendous good or tremendous evil.

You are very thorough and take your time thinking things through. You enjoy games that require a lot of concentration and thought, like chess for example. You also could find traveling very rewarding.

You have a strong will and great determination and are willing to work hard to reach your goals. You often take on more than your share and labor untiringly, sparing yourself no pain in your work. You should guard against over-exerting yourself physically.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 3:
Ascendant in Scorpio and Sun in Scorpio
Sun in Scorpio
Sun in 12th house
Sun Conjunct Mercury
Sun Conjunct Saturn
Sun Conjunct Pluto
Sun Conjunct Mercury/Saturn
Sun Conjunct Saturn/Pluto

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Section 4: Mental Interests and Abilities

You have good mental concentration and the ability to become completely immersed in your work. You seem to know things at an instinctive, nonverbal level and prefer learning through direct experience or apprenticeship rather than vicariously via books or lectures. You have mechanical ability and work well with your hands. You could become adept at sculpture, pottery, carpentry, stained glass, or anything that involves doing and making things manually. Biology (and related fields such as medicine) interests you as well. You also have an instinctive rapport with animals, and may feel you relate better to them than to people! You tend to become narrowly focused upon your own specialized interests and may not have much to say or communicate outside that field.

You don't speak up readily, even when you have a lot to say! Also, your mind tends to drift and you find it difficult to study very factual material that doesn't have much color or imaginative appeal. Your intuition and first impressions are likely to be quite accurate, however, and you tend to depend upon this faculty in making decisions.

Your mind is serious and deep, and you will rarely offer an opinion on any matter until you have thoroughly considered and studied it. You have excellent powers of concentration and enjoy studying or thinking deeply in solitude. You have an aptitude for research or doing mental work which requires precise, organized thinking, attention to detail, and a methodical approach. You are conservative and something of a skeptic, and may be narrow-minded and closed to new ideas, especially if there is no concrete proof or scientific verification of them. Socially, you are rather reserved, uncommunicative, and uncomfortable with light, frivolous conversation.

Suspicious that appearances are superficial and masking the "real nitty-gritty", you are always probing beneath the surface to uncover the deeper, hidden aspects of a matter. You are interested in anything secret or mysterious. You have great powers of concentration and a penetrating mind, with an aptitude for research, investigative reporting, or detective work. You are also keenly observant and seem to have "x-ray vision" regarding the inner motivations and intentions of other people. You could make an excellent psychotherapist, uncovering the deeper causes and roots of a person's emotional problems. You may also be drawn to esoteric or occult studies and the development of unusual mental powers. Stories of mystery, intrigue, and espionage fascinate you.

You know what you want to accomplish and have a tendency to strive toward a superior intellect. You are prudent and a convincing speaker with the ability to influence others. But you push yourself tirelessly and tend to overstrain your nerves.

You are very thorough and are likely to commit yourself to some type of study or research work. Not very talkative, you try to avoid contact with others as much as possible and prefer to do your work in seclusion or solitude.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 4:
Mercury in Scorpio
Mercury in 12th house
Mercury Conjunct Saturn
Mercury Conjunct Pluto
Mercury Conjunct Sun/Pluto
Mercury Conjunct Saturn/Pluto

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Section 5: Emotions: Moods, Feelings, Romance

You respond very much to the emotional tone and atmosphere around you, and can be dominated by your fluctuating and unpredictable moods. You often appear irrational to others because you cannot always explain the reason or source of your feelings. Anyone who lives with you must accept your ups and downs and appreciate your need for times of withdrawal.

You are also very sympathetic and understand the unspoken feelings and needs of others. You take slights and rebuffs very personally and though you may forgive a transgression by a friend or loved one, you never forget it.

You may have done extensive traveling in your early years, or in some way had a background which enables you to understand and identify with many different types of people or cultures.

You have a craving for things which are far away and foreign or for things you have never experienced before. You want to completely immerse yourself in the feelings and tastes of a new place, rather than simply have facts or an intellectual appreciation. Emotionally, too, you are restless and something of a wanderer.

Highly sensitive and rather easily taken in, you need to beware of deceiving yourself and allowing others to take advantage of your impressionability or gentleness. Daydreaming, fantasizing, or other forms of imaginative, escapist behavior (such as watching television excessively or living your life through romance novels) could be something of an addiction for you. You tend to confuse images with reality and need to learn to be more circumspect and discriminating. Disappointments through women and in close relationships may occur if you do not.

You have intense desires and feelings and your personal relationships are deeply emotional, passionate, and often stormy and painful as well. There are powerful magnetic ties between yourself and those you care about, and you could become emotionally obsessed by another person. Your feelings can become so urgent and compelling that you do things that are not rational. You undergo periodic emotional upheavals and purging, when you must break all ties, release the past and begin anew.

You are quietly devoted and faithful to your loved ones, and often become a kind of servant to your love partner. You are more comfortable showing love for someone by doing something for them, making something for them, or simply being there for them -rather than telling them so in a romantic, soul-stirring sort of way. You are timid about expressing too much sentiment or emotion. You also underestimate your attractiveness and lovability and doubt your own worthiness to receive love and appreciation.

Promoting beauty, the arts, or entertainment can make you very happy. You want to contribute something positive and loving to the world at large and you want to be recognized for your beauty, artistic gifts, or loving generosity. You may "marry" your work - that is, be more involved in your career than in your private life. You are a natural hostess or diplomat.

You are extremely amorous and it is difficult for you to go without a romantic involvement for very long. When you are attracted to someone, you pursue them very ardently and sometimes come on too strong. Doing creative work or artistic work can also satisfy the very strong desire for love and beauty that you feel.

You may be subject to periodic changes of mood, are serious, somewhat somber, and you seem to lack confidence in yourself and could have trouble giving of yourself. You tend to withdraw from others, expecting to be disappointed if you let anyone come too close.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 5:
Moon in Cancer
Moon in 9th house
Moon Quincunx Neptune
Moon Square Pluto
Venus in Virgo
Venus in 10th house
Venus Conjunct Mars
Venus Conjunct Moon/Saturn

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Section 6: Drive and Ambition: How You Achieve Your Goals

You are a perfectionist and have high standards for your own work. You often feel that if you want something done right you must do it yourself, for others do not do as thorough a job as you do. Doing a task well is very important to you, and you may labor over minute details that others wouldn't bother with. You strive for accuracy, efficiency, and precision, and you become very irritable when things are not done "right".

On the other hand, you can become so much of a perfectionist and so self-critical that you will not even attempt many activities and projects, feeling that your efforts simply won't be good enough. You are usually modest and realistic in assessing what you can accomplish and, if anything, you underestimate yourself. Of course, practice makes perfect, and if you do apply yourself diligently in some area, you gradually gain self-confidence as you master skills and develop expertise.

You conserve your energy and pace yourself so that you do not waste or diffuse your efforts. An unwillingness to take risks or venture from the beaten track can sometimes limit your opportunities. In short, you may not aim high enough and settle for too little in life.

You are likely to be known for your drive, energy, ambition, and competitive spirit. A successful career based on your ability to take initiative, be a leader, or excel in physical strength and prowess is likely. You most definitely want to be a winner and will work hard to achieve that.

You seem to lack determination and have a sense of inferiority. You tend to think negatively about yourself and are inclined to downgrade yourself. But you have strong self-control, accept hardship well and have the desire to overcome your difficulties.

You have a spiritual gift or vocation which colors your personal ambitions and drive for achievement. Helping people or serving the Whole is part of your role in life. Music, the arts, entertainment, and/or using imagery, visualization, or imagination can be aspects of your work in the world, also.

You have an aptitude for detective or research work, or any field that involves digging beneath the surface for the hidden elements. An interest in psychology, hypnosis, and utilizing subconscious forces or subliminal messages may well be a key factor in your career.

Whatever your choice of profession, you are apt to feel a sense of inner mission about it and may pursue it with great zeal and intensity.

You have a natural ability to integrate with groups and could very well form your own associations or groups. There is likely to be a special soul-link between you and the friends you choose. You also have a tendency to fight other people's battles.

You have a desire to teach other people what you know and may be interested in a career that serves the public through some educational programs. You are a very stimulating companion, but want to be the central figure in dicussions.

You are inclined to be a bit eccentric, and difficulties with members of your family or friends may cause you to feel depressed and alone frequently. You may be drawn more to older people.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 6:
Mars in Virgo
Mars in 10th house
Mars Conjunct Moon/Saturn
Neptune Trine MC
Pluto Sextile MC
MC Conjunct Sun/N. Node
MC Conjunct Mercury/N. Node
MC Conjunct Saturn/N. Node

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Section 7: Growth and Expansion: Areas That You Enjoy

Your strength lies in your ability to see the whole, rather than only the parts which compose it. You have a deep need to explore the world and to develop your own philosophy of life and sense of personal meaning. You vacillate between being open-minded and tolerant of differing views, and being dogmatic or overly zealous about your own viewpoint.

You have an optimistic outlook on life and to others you appear jovial, confident, and expansive. You do what you can to be encouraging and helpful to other people, and your generosity and lack of pettiness makes you very well-liked.

Because you see yourself as a lucky person, you may feel that you can "get away with anything", without negative consequences. You tend to go to excess and have little sense of moderation (or even caution, at times).

You are very enthusiastic and high-spirited. You inject a positive, optimistic note into any endeavor, and others enjoy your fun-loving and enterprising attitude.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 7:
Jupiter in Sagittarius
Jupiter in 1st house
Jupiter Conjunct Uranus

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Section 8: Areas That Challenge You Or Are Difficult For You

You both yearn for, and fear, being emotionally vulnerable with others and experiencing deep emotional intimacy. Trusting others and letting yourself be known in a deep way doesn't come easily to you, and sexual inhibitions may result from this. You are very self-protective and may be compulsively secretive. Learning to relinquish control in personal relationships, and to be completely open, are important tasks for you.

You may have nebulous but ever-present guilts and fears that are difficult to pinpoint or eradicate. It's as if you don't trust Life itself, and are always seeking ways to defend yourself from its dangers and its unknowns. You must learn to overcome your ingrained habit of discouragement and anxiety, and to see the world more as a friendly place than as a treacherous one.

Basically shy, you tend to be somewhat inhibited in love and may feel uncomfortable or awkward expressing your love for someone. You long for love and dream about love, but also are inclined to torment yourself because of a seeming lack of affection.

You are inclined to feel inferior and may easily be taken in by others. You have to guard against being deceived or used by others, though your intentions may be good. Don't let your desire to have things cloud your ability to see what is really happening.

You often may be coerced into doing things that you don't want to do, leaving you frustrated, irritable and touchy. You could turn hard and unforgiving toward others and may break up some important relationships.

Now we will discuss patterns of behavior which you instinctively and habitually revert to when under stress - a mostly unconscious process and one which you are apt to overdo because it is so familiar and thus easy for you. The direction you need to follow in order to develop balance, greater awareness, and wholeness is also described.

You need to take what you have learned (either through formal education or your own questing and life experience) and share it with others, communicate it, express it in a way others can benefit from. Knowledge and understanding which does not enhance the quality of life for yourself and others in your world is of little real value. Putting your understanding, philosophy, and convictions into practice in your daily
interactions with people, and in the multiple small choices you make everyday will enable you to really test your belief system and discover more about life.

When under stress you are apt to seek refuge in imagining that the grass is greener elsewhere, rather than working with what is at hand. Cultivate your ability to live in the present!

The arena you are most likely to wrestle with these issues is in relationships that are more than superficial or casual - in particular where you and another have merged emotionally, legally, or financially. You will see these issues arise in close partnerships of any kind, especially when there is a mutual dependency on one another. Dealing with in-laws, inheritances, and legal matters involving joint custody, shared assets, and resources is also a part of this.

You tend to be a bit too idealistic and may place too much hope on your associations with others, resulting in frequent disappointments. You could be attracted to naive people, but some of your contacts also may turn out to be swindlers.

You tend to be fascinated by new and obscure things and may be strongly attracted to the occult. You may contribute to spontaneous forming of groups and could gain spiritual enlightenment together with other people.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 8:
Saturn in Scorpio
Saturn in 12th house
Saturn Conjunct Venus/Neptune
Saturn Conjunct Mars/Neptune
Saturn Conjunct Pluto/Asc.
N. Node in Gemini
N. Node in 8th house
N. Node Opposition Jupiter/Neptune
N. Node Opposition Uranus/Neptune

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Section 9: Originality and Imagination: Areas Where You Are Creative, Unique, Unstable, or Compulsive

You are an unconventional and innovative person, and you are seen as a rebel, reformer, or highly unusual in your manners, appearance, or attitudes. You enjoy being unpredictable, and you do not conform to the standards that other people have set. Above all, you are an individual, and you do what you please regardless of customs and norms. Your environment and life circumstances may change frequently and abruptly.

You may have a great deal of confusion over money, financial matters, and ownership. Perhaps these things mean very little to you. Or possibly you simply don't know how to deal with them in a realistic, effective way.

Also, you may make your living through artistic, musical, or highly imaginative endeavors.

You have a deep interest in secrets, the underworld or unconscious, and anything hidden and mysterious. Psychoanalysis, investigating your dreams, and other methods of uncovering secrets are very interesting to you. You may be exceptionally perceptive intuitively or psychically. Your emotions and subconscious energies are complex, and periodic transformations and personal crises are sprinkled liberally throughout your lifetime.

You tend to submit to other people's wishes too easily and put their needs before your own. At times you may suddenly realize their underhanded motives and find out that they were only trying to deter you from the pursuit of your objectives.

Your desire for love is very strong and you are extremely popular. You have what it takes to fascinate many people and are likely to have a good measure of social power. Your generosity is great, and no one who comes to you for help will be turned away.

You have an extraordinary spirit of enterprise and seem to be a born entrepreneur. You are inclined to take on big projects or enterprises and are likely to have unusual successes. You probably experienced definite successes early in life.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 9:
Uranus in 1st house
Neptune in 2nd house
Pluto in 12th house
Uranus Conjunct Neptune/Asc.
Pluto Conjunct Venus/Jupiter
Pluto Conjunct Mars/Jupiter

*

Section 10: Generational Influences: Your Age Group

In this chapter we will discuss characteristics and traits of your generation. Of course, you may not share all of the characteristics of your generation, but you are greatly affected by the tone that is set by your generation.

The first topic is "The Subconscious and Emotional Drive of Your Age Group". In this section we will describe a deeply felt urge, even compulsion, of your age group. This deeply felt drive comes to the surface with great force and power, and consequently leaves in its wake considerable upheaval and change. The second topic is "The Ideals and Illusions of Your Age Group", that describes the dreams, fantasies, and spiritual aspirations of your age group. The third and last topic is "What is New and Different in Your Age Group", which describes areas in which your age group tends to be innovative, inventive, unusual, and also where it may be unstable and unreliable.

The characteristics described below may affect a group of people for anywhere from a few years to about 30 years. There are one or more different astrological factors described in each of the three sections below.

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The Subconscious and Emotional Drive of Your Age Group

You are part of a 12 year group of people who are deeply interested in personal relationships. Your age group has a deeply-rooted yearning to see people relating and communicating with each other effectively and harmoniously. There is little egotism and a willingness to hear the other person's side of the story and a readiness to compromise and arbitrate different points of view. In fact, the need for harmonious, peaceful relationships is so strong that there is a tendency to overlook real differences and to focus only on the similarities in an attempt to bring different parties into harmony with each other.

Interest in psychology and sociology is high in your age group. There is a tremendous heightening of awareness of social skills. Your age group will experiment with different marriage styles, family relationships, and even business relationships in an attempt to bring fair treatment and effective communication between people. Interest and appreciation for other cultures is also strong, and your age group will work hard to preserve and support the cultural heritage of all ethnic groups.

Your strong yearning for equitable and harmonious relationships is also reflected in major advancements in trade agreements, arms control, and international cooperation that are designed and implemented by your generation. These agreements and policies foster a much safer and more cooperative environment for all, although there is also a tendency for greedy individuals to take advantage of the conciliatory atmosphere and twist situations to their own ends.

In short, you are part of a generation of individuals who are deeply interested in other people; you are a humanistic and humanitarian group. You will struggle and experiment with personal relationships, and forge new models for how people can relate as friends, family members, and members of nations as well.

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The Ideals and Illusions of Your Age Group

You are part of a 14 year group of people that are extremely idealistic and farsighted in their dreams. Your age group is very liberal and expansive in outlook, and consequently churches become much more flexible and more eclectic in their approach during your life time. Religions that do not adapt to the broad-minded attitude of your age group simply are unable to attract very much interest and involvement from you.

A great deal of metaphysical musing and speculation is evident in your age group, and there is a very strong interest in all manner of psychic phenomena, UFO's, prophecy, etc. This interest will open many new doors and insights, but will also often lead to a great deal of fantasizing and speculation that is taken more seriously than it should be.

The entire generation to which you belong has tremendous opportunities for spiritual rebirth and awakening. This will not be forced upon you or precipitated by unavoidable events, rather it comes from an inner yearning and a natural propensity to seek the depths.

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What is New and Different in Your Age Group

You are part of a 7 year group of people who are extremely enterprising and forward-looking. You are optimists and explorers. Your age group shoots for the stars, figuratively and literally. Space exploration takes on new dimensions as your age group pushes fervently to the next frontier. There is a buoyant and youthful optimism and enthusiasm in your group, and you have your share of great discoveries as well as pipe dreams and disillusionment. The discoveries and contributions, however, are many, and more than compensate for the failures.

Astrological influences analyzed in Chapter 10:
Pluto in Libra
Neptune in Sagittarius
Neptune Sextile Pluto
Uranus in Sagittarius

*

Soon I hope to have other entire astrological read-outs available on other topics, yay! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-28T19:12:00.000-07:00

Never Hold Discussions With The Monkey When Doyle Brunson Is In The Room

Holy Homo Erectus! Here’s news that’s nutty as 12 monkeys in a 10 monkey barrel!

Watch Mikey The Chimp Go Ape On Newscast!

You better believe it! The concept of the “poker face” is about to be re-defined, as Mikey the Chimp, Elkton, Maryland’s 4 ½ year old hairball owned by Judie Harrison, the media’s philopatric primate who has divided and conquering jungle after jungle, from delivering Chimp Grams (a bouquet of jungle print balloons with autographed greeting cards and a fifteen-minute show) in clown outfits, to pushing his own merchandise line on CafePress, to performing live shows at the Wilmington Flower Market, to fast breaking and slam-dunking on the basketball court during half-time, to going bananas on a Baltimore news program, to even earning a mug shot on the CD cover of the Black Eyed Peas’ “Monkey Business” and Goodie Mob’s, “One Monkey Don't Stop No Show”, as well as centerfolding the covers of FHM and Vogue Magazines, is about ready to retire to a life of peace and quiet, but before he does so intends to cap his impressive resume with one final crowning achievement; 2006 World Series of Poker Main Event Gold Bracelet Champion! :)

Oh, giggling, eh? Well, I’ll have you know that this plucky primate is so dead serious about claiming victory, he even went through an intensive poker training program in preparation for the tournament to end all tournaments at the Rio Casino in Las Vegas, including being trained professionally in recognizing colors and shapes of suited cards, perform on television, and wear a green poker visor and sunglasses. In fact, Mikey is proving to be so intimidating he and PokerShare.com, who has backed Mikey the Chimp, is challenging a journalist in a one-on-one poker match live, as well as vowing to pay any player who loses to Mikey to come back to next year’s Main Event, where any money he wins in this tournament will go toward his retirement, with PokerShare also hoping to draw further attention to animal preservation and education.

Indeed, animal show business remains a most sensitive issue to this day, where in some areas I am deeply concerned about how animals are treated. I can understand, for instance, how young chimps can emotionally and psychologically be affected in being separated from their mothers at young ages, as most monkeys stay with their mothers until the age of eight. But I think what Judie Harrison is doing is nothing like what scientists do in testing products on primates, and when there’s no pain or jail cells involved in having monkeys in show business, I’m absolutely fine with that, and word has it that Harrison is planning to take their earnings from photo shoots and parties and build a $1.2 million habitat on five acres of land for Mikey’s own mini-sanctuary. Indeed, chimps can live to such great ages, where Cheeta, the star of a dozen Tarzan movies in the 1930s and 40s, is still living in Palm Springs.

Watch Mikey The Chimp Hold 'Em!

Watch Mikey The Chimp Go All-In On Good Morning America

Watch Mikey The Chimp After A Good Day's Play

It proved to be a hairy situation finding a non-human poker-playing candidate, with PokerShare.com spending hours in arduous research about poker-playing monkeys around the world, until drafting Mikey, the brainiest baboon around. His favorite move is going “all in,” and you can watch streaming video of Mikey practicing his “all-in” moves with trainers via his website, www.MonkeyShare.net. Yesterday afternoon at Palms Casino Resort at The Real World Suite in Las Vegas, Nevada, Mikey the Chimp appeared in a special press conference which centered around Mikey’s professional poker training, where guests received free banana splits and tall, foaming glasses of Bannarama Vodka Blended’s, on the eve of the commencement of this year’s World Series of Poker, which kicked off today.

So, we’ll wait and see if Harrah's institutes a new rule for the 2007 World Series of Poker that forbids any player from flinging his own feces during the course of tournament play. My hunch is as long as Mikey doesn’t have a wardrobe malfunction, he’s in the clear! (giggles) In fact, I am praying that whatever happens, Mikey doesn't knock out Phil Hellmuth or Mike Matusow, or they might start releasing press releases at him saying, "You can't even spell poker!" or "Quadrupedals can't even carry their chips!" Viva las Vegas & the World Series of Poker!

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Meanwhile, in the neighboring Golden State, Fresno's KFYE-FM 106.3 station has overwent a major bawdy baptizing, from Christian music, sermons and Bible parables to "Why Don't We Do It in the Road" by the Beatles, "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye, "Strokin'" by Clarence Carter, "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred and "Nasty" by Janet Jackson beginning last week, as this Kingsburg station, formerly a K-LOVE affliate station, is now declaring itself "Porn Radio", with the moniker "all sex radio, all the time," where tamer songs like Phil Collins' "In The Air Tonight" are also heated up by adding recorded moans and groans.

Yep, ever since Jerry Clifton, a man known for stunts with radio, also CEO of the Scottsdale, Arizona-based Pro-active Communications-Fresno purchased the station on July 17th from the Educational Media Foundation for $3.75 million, his latest quirk has generated controversy in the land of raisins, as even his two radio stations in Spokane, Washington have never attempted the "Porn Radio" format yet. The station is currently being operated out of a trailer in Kingsburg, and Clifton is working hard to move his studio into downtown Fresno.

Currently the station is commerical free, with songs on KFYE only separated by promotions for the station, with pre-recorded messages including "We are the only radio station with a stripper pole as a broadcast antenna" and a suggestion that those younger than 21 should turn off their radios because the station features "mild sexual content."

Anyway, good luck, Mr. Boombastic, you may be greeted there with some non-sexual groans at first, but everyone loves a smooth operator! So just rest that slow hand on the soundboard, just take it slow, and get in the groove! (Shucks, now here I am leading a parade of double entendres!, there's such a sweet pandemonium to radio! )Wow, come to think of many of these songs look tender-hearted and tame in comparison to some of my songs. In bridging both this story and the World Series of Poker together, check out this song I wrote titled "69 Suited".

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69 Suited
By: Noah Eaton
11/21/05

Baby, it’s cold outside,
the furnace just won’t comply,
mmm, so what’d you say we reside,
as slaves to each other tonight...

Mmm, dirty girl, let me be your rising tide,
and you can be my honey guide,
I want to taste everything you are far and wide.
Come on and slip off that hair slide,
let your hair wash over me like a high tide,
this buffet for two is all-you-can-eat, baby!

Mmmmm, what a way to live,
when you get what you give,
so let me dig through your bush,
and you can have my meat and potatoes,
ohhhhhhh,
my arms are wrapped around your thighs,
you spread your legs open wide,
as you suck my pride,
in our ravenous collide,
mmm baby, mmm baby,
let our world of numbers blow our minds!

You say, “Mmmmm, thank you!”
I say, “Mmm, you’re so welcome!”,
whatever may cum,
we will succumb,
you’re a ribbon of flesh,
wrapped around me tight in mesh,
I swear we can’t let each other go,
oh, oh,
we’re really going at it now,
whoa whoa!

Some may say it’s uncomfortable,
inconceivable, unthinkable,
to engage upside-down on any floor show,
we say,
“Malarkey, let’s get this show on the blow!”

Your hands know how to work a massage,
your lips speak moans in barrage,
I swear you feel just like a mirage,
every time I close my eyes licking your clit.
I love the way that you glow,
melting together in our shadow show,
partaking your every hole,
as you prepare for your Big O!

Mmmmm, what a way to live,
when you get what you give,
so let me dig through your bush,
and you can have my meat and potatoes,
ohhhhhhh,
my arms are wrapped around your thighs,
you spread your legs open wide,
as you suck my pride,
in our ravenous collide,
mmm baby, mmm baby,
let our world of numbers blow our minds!

You say, “Mmmmm, thank you!”
I say, “Mmm, you’re so welcome!”,
whatever may cum,
we will succumb,
you’re a ribbon of flesh,
wrapped around me tight in mesh,
I swear we can’t let each other go,
oh, oh,
we’re really going at it now,
whoa whoa!
.
.
.
Ohhhhhhhhh,
mmm, ah, mmm ah,
mmm mmm, mmm mmm,
mmmmmmmmmm...
.
.
.
Mmmmm, what a way to live,
when you get what you give,
so let me dig through your bush,
and you can have my meat and potatoes,
ohhhhhhh,
and once you’ve sipped every drip of me,
soused with sweat, limping eurythmicly,
when you feel that rug burn on your knees,
will you immediately get hot for me,
mmm, will you cum running back to me?

You say, “Mmmmm, thank you!”
I say, “Mmm, you’re so welcome!”,
whatever may cum,
we will succumb,
you’re a ribbon of flesh,
wrapped around me tight in mesh,
I swear we can’t let each other go,
oh, oh,
we’re really going at it now,
mmm yeah,
and I say, “Mmmmm, thank you!”,
you say, “Mmm, you’re so welcome!”,
whatever may cum,
we will succumb,
you’re a ribbon of flesh,
wrapped around me tight in mesh,
I swear we can’t let each other go,
oh, oh,
we’re really going at it now!

WHOA WHOA!

*

*

Good luck, Jerry, and good luck, Mikey! Don't drop the F-bomb and you will be fine! Thank God "69 Suited" hasn't made it.....yet.....to Clifton's abode, or I'll be 325,000 Leagues Under The Green! (giggles) Monkey see, monkey do, monkey raise! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-23T12:23:00.000-07:00

Brown Sugar And Black Magic Voodoo

Here's the first three poems in my new erotica spin-off, "Maithuna Mysophilia's Magnetic Mirror Of The Mind"

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Nayika Siddhi
By: Noah Eaton
7/15/06

Myriads of confessions of a fire dancer,
pole-dancing on the tip of my tongue,
brown sugar and black magic exteriorized,
uninhibited desire once thought unsung,
myriads of confessions of a fire dancer,
pole-dancing on the tip of my tongue,
brown sugar and black magic exteriorized,
uninhibited desire once thought unsung.

Let’s get to the point, smoldering siren,
I’m looking for a brawl of a close call,
your breathing place is my breathing space,
yield and restrain me, I’m your Wanga doll,
let’s go yodeling in the gully, whistling in the weeds,
jiving and juking, 120 in the shade,
talking in deep hues of magnolia,
shifting into first gear, laid, relayed and parlayed.

Myriads of confessions of a fire dancer,
pole-dancing on the tip of my tongue,
brown sugar and black magic exteriorized,
uninhibited desire once thought unsung.

Woman,
there’s nothing more erotic than being understood,
I’ll be the usher in your hall,
offering dirty sweet charity,
opening up, giving you my all,
lay yourself out on display,
where I’ll shower you with roses and raptures,
wet and willing in a spot of heavy breathing,
screwed, blued and tattooed in slow exotic southern exposure…

Myriads of confessions of a fire dancer,
pole-dancing on the tip of my tongue,
brown sugar and black magic exteriorized,
uninhibited desire once thought unsung.
Myriads of confessions of a fire dancer,
pole-dancing on the tip of my tongue,
brown sugar and black magic exteriorized,
uninhibited desire once thought unsung.

Can’t explain,
this ceaseless fate of this femme fatale,
scorch me to cinders if you must,
so I’ll be reincarnated,
in the heat of your voodoo charm…
.
.
.
.
.
(Si vis amari, ama!)
.
.
.
.
.
Can’t explain,
this ceaseless fate of this femme fatale,
scorch me to cinders if you must,
so I’ll be reincarnated,
in the heat of your voodoo charm…

Myriads of confessions of a fire dancer,
pole-dancing on the tip of my tongue,
brown sugar and black magic exteriorized,
uninhibited desire once thought unsung.
Myriads of confessions of a fire dancer,
pole-dancing on the tip of my tongue,
brown sugar and black magic exteriorized,
uninhibited desire once thought unsung.

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Ben-Wa, Pharaoh Of The Pheromones
(Part Of: "Maithuna Mysophilia's Magnetic Mirror Of The Mind")
By: Noah Eaton
7/17/06
.
.
.
Veedle-de-doo!

(Ohhhh!)

Veedle-de-doo!

(Mmmmm!)

Veedle-de-doo!

(Ohhhh!)

Veedle-de-doo!

(Mmmmm!)
.
.
.
What would you give to send your spirits aloft,
give a bit of hard for a bit of soft,
I know how to quaver your soft spot,
on the spot get you all white hot,
get you on top,
I’m the Courtier of Wet Dreams, Ben-Wa,
my desires smolder like a sauna,
wearing pearls dissolved in vinegar like Cleopatra,
giving a length of tongue of mira puama,
glamorizing and gilding the lily,
fingering the skin harp silly,
licking the sap from the anvalli tree,
just to achieve extracurricular activity immortality.

They call me the Pharaoh of the Pheromones,
with psyche sound drenched in abalone,
when my whispers head straight for your limbic lobe,
like clouds of silkworm moths you’ll be on the probe,
my flesh session’s anything but vanilla,
and will short-circuit your sensilla,
creep around the sheets like a chinchilla,
get hilt and hair like a gorilla.

Eager beaver, eager pleaser,
we’ve both been stricken by this relapsing fever,
let me be both your fever and reliever,
you’re my achiever, believer and receiver,
absinthe can make the heart grow fonder,
transmitting radar love via theobromine transponder,
and between the sycamores of turquoise,
I’m drenched in your humid soprano voice.
show me where the sun doesn’t shine,
let me dive in your canyon and blow your mind,
the eye that weeps most is best pleased,
mmm, you’re a plastic explosive begging on your knees.

They call me the Pharaoh of the Pheromones,
with psyche sound drenched in abalone,
when my whispers head straight for your limbic lobe,
like clouds of silkworm moths you’ll be on the probe,
my flesh session’s anything but vanilla,
and will short-circuit your sensilla,
creep around the sheets like a chinchilla,
get hilt and hair like a gorilla.

I’m the irresistible desire that always flares,
between your legs as you sit in that rocking chair,
blazing like a solar flare,
an erupting Vesuvius beyond compare,
sweet pillow-biter, don’t be shy, free your hips,
we’ll get drunk on philters like Apuleius,
let’s get mischievously lascivious,
scream like an annular eclipse over the Giza pyramids,
I’m not divine, just all Vitamin E and phenylethylamine,
just feeling my way with you to runner’s high heaven,
mmmmmmm, you’re my honey nut,
(Let’s skimp the small talk, darling King Smut!)

They call me the Pharaoh of the Pheromones,
with psyche sound drenched in abalone,
when my whispers head straight for your limbic lobe,
like clouds of silkworm moths you’ll be on the probe,
my flesh session’s anything but vanilla,
and will short-circuit your sensilla,
creep around the sheets like a chinchilla,
get hilt and hair like a gorilla.
.
.
.
Veedle-de-doo!

(Ohhhh!)

Veedle-de-doo!

(Mmmmm!)

Veedle-de-doo!

(Ohhhh!)

Veedle-de-doo!

(Mmmmm!)

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*

On Va Chez Toi Ou Chez Moi?
(Part Of: "Maithuna Mysophilia's Magnetic Mirror Of The Mind")
By: Noah Eaton
7/21/06
.
.
.
(J'ai une déclaration à te faire…
.
.
.
…en dehors de tes yeux, il n'y a pas de jardins…
.
.
.
…j'entends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde…
.
.
.
…je t'aime à la folie…
.
.
.
…fais-moi l'amour!)
.
.
.
You’ve got doll’s eyes that sensationalize,
improvise and exercise before my eyes,
upon me and a canvas of clean sheets,
you debrief your wanton motif,
smother me with belief and pain relief,
incarcerating me in a spot of heavy breathing,
I’m your white swallow whistling in the dark,
you’re my village bicycle speeding from the stars,
and this heat wave is just too sinfully handsome,
so let’s spread some good leather,
roll in the heather in the altogether,
impale me softly with your nymphomaniatical love.

My desires are firing like shooting galleries,
let’s burn away thousands of calories,
just free your hips and let yourself go,
synchronicity is something that cannot be measured,
because you’re my principle of pleasure,
mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm,
on va chez toi ou chez moi?
.
.
.
(Allons faire la bête à deux dos!)
.
.
(Allons faire la bête à deux dos!)
.
.
.
Forget getting gravel for the goose,
let yourself loose and dare to induce,
and seduce me with your pussy talk,
you’re my Messalina complex,
flexing your burlesque respects,
you got my head swooning around the clock,
you blanket me with positive perceptions,
you’re my little death and my conception,
fervid with the nectar of the goddess,
let’s surrender to the humidity,
fetish me with your fluidity,
we’ll go skinny-dipping on the pillow slip…

Let’s let our desires fire like shooting galleries,
let’s burn away thousands of calories,
just free your hips and let yourself go,
synchronicity is something that cannot be measured,
because you’re my principle of pleasure,
mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm,
on va chez toi ou chez moi?
.
.
.
(Allons faire la bête à deux dos!)
.
.
(Allons faire la bête à deux dos!)
.
.
.
Ohhhhh, ravish me with your fire,
glaring white hot with animalistic desire,
don’t be timid, don’t be shy,
smile for the camera and give the glad eye,
come and give it up to me!
(Lechez ma chatte, s'il-vous-plait!)
come and try to break me!
(Je jouis!)

Let’s let our desires fire like shooting galleries,
let’s burn away thousands of calories,
just free your hips and let yourself go,
synchronicity is something that cannot be measured,
because you’re my principle of pleasure,
mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm,
on va chez toi ou chez moi?
Let’s let our desires fire like shooting galleries,
let’s burn away thousands of calories,
just free your hips and let yourself go,
synchronicity is something that cannot be measured,
because you’re my principle of pleasure,
mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm,
on va chez toi ou chez moi?
.
.
.
on va chez toi ou chez moi?
.
.
.
On va chez toi ou chez moi?

*

*

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-15T21:42:00.000-07:00

"Mr. Roboto & The Inter-Being"

I just thought I'd openly share with y'all a labor of love in which I wrote for my University Studies 254G: Popular Culture class last trimester at Portland State University, regarding the 1983 Styx smash "Mr. Roboto" and an analysis of this song as a cultural artifact through our times.

Immensely I enjoyed University Studies 254G, which was taught by Thomas Harold Fisher, who has been an assistant professor at Portland State University since 2000 and who also has a love for literature and poetry, whose writings have appeared in publications as diverse as LVNG , Delmar and The Culture Society. He’s currently teaching a summer American Poetry class (English 477/577) which I certainly would enjoy having if I had the opportunity. He’s an affable, bounteous, warm-hearted intellectual with a worldly vocabulary and mature yet youthful curiosity of how culture and the world is shaped which you’ll find fascinating if you ever have a class with him, with University Studies 254G filled with engaging texts including Slavoj Zizek’s "The Desert of the Real", Lynn Spigel’s "Entertainment Wars", Naomi Klein’s "Culture Jamming", Charles Bernstein’s "Play It Again, Pac-Man", Anne Marie Schliener’s "Does Lara Croft Wear Fake Polygons?" and, of course, Philip K. Dick’s "UBIK", along with several quizzical films; "Merchants of Cool", "The Yes Men" and "eXistenZ".

So, for a final project, me and my classmates were asked to select a cultural artifact (song, sports franchise, game, amusement park ride, etc.) and then run an analysis of the artifact from a cultural standpoint. Thus, I embarked on a time machine monkeyshine back to my year of birth, found that indeed "Mr. Roboto" began enslaving the unwashed masses and haunting the eardrums of the riffraff, and abracadabtron.....this essay was born!

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Noah Eaton
June 7, 2006
University Studies 254G

"Mr. Roboto & The Inter-Being"

In February of 1983, after celebrating a decade together as a band, Styx released a concept album titled Kilroy Was Here, inspired from a popular graffiti said to have originated from an American shipyard inspector during World War II. The opening track on this record is titled "Mr. Roboto", a song which launches the odyssey of a former rock and roll superstar named Rober Orin Charles Kilroy who was imprisoned at a Paradise Theatre concert by the MMM (The Majority for Musical Morality), a group with its own television network that becomes influential in the American political mainstream, accusing rock and roll music for the moral decay of the nation and eventually succeeding in banning rock and roll before. Following the coup, he was charged for murder and delivered to a prison ship with other rock stars.

Years pass with Kilroy remaining behind bars, and robots constructed from Japan have taken over all the menial jobs humans used to perform, working primarily as prison guards. Kilroy has become a counter-cultural icon in a movement destined to resurrect rock and roll into the social climate, and the leader of the movement, Jonathan Chance, is able to contact Kilroy through the manipulation of the media and help him plot his escape, which he does through defeating a robot and disguising himself as a "Mr. Roboto", which summarizes his conflicted thoughts in his escape from the prison ship, as well as an ode to the robot.

Yet, it is curious in observing that "Mr. Roboto" is considered Styx’s only song that is categorized in the New Wave music era, which arouses questioning into why this sole song alone in Styx’s catalogue would be depicted as archetypal to the music cultural response to the French cinema movement in the 1960’s, where famous directors of the times rejected conventional artistic ideas to rather delve deeper into the use of abstraction and symbolism, and moreover reflect on themes that would become centerfold to the New Wave music movement in the U.S including alienation from society and corporate oligopoly. It should also be considered that Styx wasn’t exactly a stranger to these themes, as they had tackled unemployment in songs like "Blue Collar Man" and raising youth as consumers in "The Grand Illusion". Thus, it is necessary to examine the underlying influences to this quintessential single, and scrutinize how it continues to be used to this day, as well as who uses it.

When most of us first think of "Mr. Roboto", we are instantly reminded of the catch phrase, "Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto!" which is generically defined as one of several Japanese words that means "thank you". Yet, as Reverend Nancy E. McDonald of Bull Ran Unitarian Universalists of Manassas, Virginia explains in her November 21, 2004 sermon titled "Domo Arigato", "words show themselves to have roots, beginnings, hidden messages in their very origins that point to the nuances of their onetime meanings." (McDonald 1) She adds that the word "arigato" apparently "originated in the influence of Buddhist priests who brought their religious practices and language to Japan from Korea and China." (McDonald 2) and "comes from the root words ‘ari’ meaning ‘to be’ and ‘gatai’ meaning ‘to be difficult.’" (McDonald 2) Roughly it becomes translated as "to be difficult without", which when perceived this way hardly sounds like a cheerful customary greeting. But she adds that a Buddhist teacher by the name of Reverend Gayoko Saito, when asked what the phrase means to him, responded, "too difficult to exist without. That is, without your kindness, without your criticism, without everything of every sort that you are for me." (McDonald 2)

In observing the roots and deeper meanings of this customary Japanese phrase which drives "Mr. Roboto" to infectious heights, it can be identified there is an underlying social call for interdependence which, as another Buddhist teacher cited by McDonald named Thich Nhat Nanh explains, "to be is to inter-be. You cannot just be yourself alone. You have to inter-be with every other thing." (McDonald 2) Therefore, in re-analyzing the lyrics to "Mr. Roboto", we sense a duality, a rift between humanity and futility:

"I’m just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control
Beyond my control-we all need control
I need control- we all need control."

Yet, what external force is spearheading this de-harmonization of humanity? T.J Myers, a Syracuse University student who wrote a popular essay critiquing underlying social themes in "Mr. Roboto", argues that "the true meaning of this song is hidden in the words and expresses Dennis DeYoung’s (the lead vocalist and writer) thoughts about the average blue-collar worker." (Myers 4) who "first educates the listeners about the workers in their meaningless lives." and "sings of how the workers are human on the inside, but on the outside, treated sub-human, as if they only exist for the company’s profit." (Myers 4) This lyric emphasizes the central point given to the song:

"The problem's plain to see: too much technology
Machines to save our lives. Machines dehumanize."

In his conclusion, Myers argues that "Mr. Roboto is a song that addresses the issue of class, specifically the lower working class." (Myers 4) and adds that in the final stanza of the lyrics, it can be perceived as the workers reaching some sort of self-awakening and declaring, "The time has come at last, to throw away this mask, so everyone can see, my true identity, I’m Kilroy..." Could this be ultimately what Kilroy and Chance were really challenging; not so much the fact that Dr. Everett Righteous usurped them of their rock and roll pride, but that his regime was connected somehow to the ultimate goal of globalization and worldwide oligopoly, the very pet peeves that frustrated personalities like Seymour Stein and The Talking Heads?

"Mr. Roboto" could be depicted as Dennis DeYoung’s artistic statement to social class in result of globalization. In "Marxism and Class Theory: A Bourgeois Critique", Frank Parkin speaks of the concept of social closure, which he defines as "the process by which social collectivities seek to maximize rewards by restricting access to resources and opportunities to a limited circle of eligibles." (Parkin 143) He goes on to suggest that through political practices of subordination, the privileged are attempting to patent themselves as an exclusionary group to protect their power and authority, while those that are excluded are those who are impoverished and are attempting to seek greater power by "usurping" their resources. He says that in defending their control of power in a modern capitalist society, the exclusioned uses the "institution of property" and the use of "academic qualifications and credentials", both devices employed to permanently seize capital and to restrict access to key areas in labor from the lower classes.

The rebellion in which Kilroy exercises in "Mr. Roboto" can very well reflect the determination of the excluded, or workers and rock stars in the song, to restore the de-centralization of power that was lost since Dr. Everett Righteous, with his uncanny knowledge of how the media works and operates, began his political crusade to consume capital and control, which Chance succeeds in doing just that by "usurping" the media of the MMM to break the mind-control signal that was manipulating Kilroy, which led to Kilroy’s capability of escaping.

In a July-August 2005 edition of the Monthly Review titled "The Renewing of Socialism: An Introduction", John Bellamy Foster explains that "beginning in the 1980s a more naked capitalism, known as neoliberalism, came into being." (Foster 14) which "the goal was to remove all barriers to the increase of capitalist profits and savings and to the free flow of capital across the globe." (Foster 14) which its restructuring he insists has come to cutbacks in wages, high unemployment and underemployment, reduction of state welfare spending and tax reform designed to redistribute income and wealth from the poor to the rich. Foster explains that "socialism led by the associated producers must seek to turn the enormous productivity of modern society to other ends than the accumulation of capital." and "exploitation in the labor process needs to be eliminated through workers’ own self-organization." (Foster 19) This "self-organization" is what appears evident in "Mr. Roboto", led fictitiously by Kilroy and Chance, and the ideals of it shared by many of the New Wave artists and thinkers from the 1960’s through the mid-1980’s, including former Devo frontman and popular film score composer Mark Mothersbaugh.

Though "Mr. Roboto" was largely interpreted as Kilroy’s mere dedication to the robot he battled in order to free himself from prison, as well as the moral panic that still erupts over particular types of rock music as it went on to rise to #3 on the U.S pop chart and sell approximately two million copies, the disgruntled blue-collar worker interpretation also proved to have legs, and remains a popular debate in pop culture discussion today, with some even arguing that one of the lines in the lyrics was, "machines to save are lies". (although official album sleeve lyrics read as "machines to save our lives")

This interpretation likely lasted with the downsizing of the 1980’s, along with the late 1980’s recession following October 19, 1987’s Black Monday where the Dow Jones Industrial Average collapsed 22.6%, which eventually also led to the Savings and Loan crisis, which devastated the savings of millions of Americans and triggered higher levels of unemployment. And, as economist Paul Ryscavage wrote in a July 1994 edition of the Monthly Labor Review, in result of the corporate downsizing, "Not only did the gap between low-wage workers and high-wage workers widen, but the percentage of workers in the middle of the distribution thinned out, resulting in larger percentages of workers at the bottom and top." (Ryscavage 1)

To many, "Mr. Roboto" remains an anthem that urgently is concerned with the issue of class and the general distrust of the alliance between mass technology and corporate influences and the pessimism in that this will never benefit the social class and only divide it. However, it is also fascinating to point out that in most recent of years, the single has been seemingly "counter-usurped" by the commerical media, and is being promoted virtually in opposite of the song’s theorized social convictions.

In 1999, Volkswagen aired a commerical campaign featuring American actor Tony Hale, who danced to "Mr. Roboto" in front of the featured automobile named Golf in one prominent television commerical clip. Coincidentally enough, on an episode of Arrested Development titled "The Ocean Walker" which aired last December, the character Buster, who so happened to be played by Tony Hale, danced to this song again as a satirical reference to his 1999 Golf ad appearance.

Moreover, "Mr. Roboto" has been used as the theme background music for a particular key award in every year’s FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition of Science and Technology) Robotics Competition, debuting in 1992 and has remained an enduring tradition ever since, organized to get high school students interested in becoming engineers by giving them real world experience working with professional engineers in developing these robots, where over a thousand teams worldwide compete in building robots over a month and a half that are capable of competing in a particular game, including robotic wrestling, robot racing and rope climbing, something which could certainly make Jonathan Chance panic, "Oh no, not the Goodwill Games too!"

And finally, of course, the endless laundry list of generic pop-culture references to the track, from Pinocchio’s Far Far Away Idol performance of it on the Shrek 2 DVD, to a recent spoof of The Matrix Reloaded on the 2003 MTV Music Awards, where Justin Timberlake danced the Robot while someone dressed as the Oracle exclaimed, "Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto!"

Whether it was Dennis DeYoung’s true hope in publicizing this bold statement of class issues to mass audiences, speaking out against the vocal detractors of the rock and roll zeitgeist brainwashing our children with recondite political messages, or well-intended simply to write an unavailing, silly, pell-mell pop song, "Mr. Roboto" is destined to remain brass tacked to the playlist of 97.1 Charlie FM until the end of time, unless an equivalent of the Majority for Musical Morality tells us otherwise. Until then...Ohayou Gozaimasu (Good morning), Wakamaru! :)

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Ehhhhhhhh.....made your thinking of the smash alter, I take? (giggles) Anyway, two weeks after the final day of class, I came over to Professor Fisher’s office and spent about twenty minutes or so talking about the paper, and he ruminated a bit on his summer poetry class and some featured authors, and if you are out there reading this, professor, I will indubitably be more than blessed to continue dropping by to chat about culture, poetry, maybe even Pluggie the Fireplug Robot, who knows? LOL!

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Watch HRP-2 Prommet Walk On Rough Terrain

Watch HRP-2 Stand Up With Face Downward

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Ooohhhhh...and while we’re on the subject of robots real quickly, I’d like to toss a black blizzard of baby showers for Kawada’s Japanese Humanoid HRP-2 Promet, who no more than two years ago wowed the wide world over in Tsukuba City when this five-foot tall (154 centimeter tall) magnanimity machine, weighing a total of 127 pounds, showed it could walk in confined areas with its cantilevered crotch, getting up without need of assistance when it falls over, crawling on all fours to get out of narrow spaces, and understanding human dialogue including "turn on the TV" and "get beer from the fridge" after being designed by Kawada Industries and Mr. Yutaka Izubuchi, a mechanical animation designer famous for his robots that appear in Japanese anime, including the cult hit "Patlabor." who also gave this cyber chum his name. Since then, he has been taking up drumming, performing at the 2005 Aichi World Expo site, at Nagakute, Japan.

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Watch HRP-2m Choromet

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Now, last Memorial Day at the Robotics and Mechatronics Symposium of the Japan Society of Mechanical Engineers, HRP-2 gave birth to a homunculus, hyper-drive hybrid who already has such a striking resemblance to his father, who goes by the name HPR-2m Choromet. He is only 35 centimeters tall, developed by General Robotix, Inc, Moving Eye, Inc., Pirkus Robotix, Inc. and Dai Nippon Technical Research Institute, and with 20 degrees of freedom can also get up like his father. Ohhhhhh mmmyyyyy, how they grow up sooooooo fast! Never change.....for the love of Tron, never change.......now get me a cactus juice quencher! (giggles) I think I'm having one of those Mobile Suit Gundam nerdgasms! :)

And if anyone dares to give your Choromet crumbcruncher a megabyte of a time, news flash, Digital Daddy has been mastering the art of the staff, and he won't hesitate to go bojutsu on you, as his kata demonstrations at the 2005 International Robot Exhibition in Tokyo on November 30th, 2005 prove he's not bluffing.

Who's.....your.....dad.....dy?

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XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-14T17:45:00.000-07:00

No Soup For You, Soup For UK, Wardorf Salad Bars For You!

Well, doesn't that take the biscuit! It appears the original “Soup Nazi”, New York chef Al Yeganeh, who has ran a well-known soup restaurant named Soup Kitchen International at 259-A West 55th Street in The Big Apple since 1984, whose character inspired the famous Stalin-mustached mogul that is the Soup Nazi named Yev Kasem (played by Larry David), who demanded that all customers in his restaurant follow his exact soup-ordering instructions word by word or face the blistering repudiation, “No soup for you!” on an episode of Seinfeld aired November 2, 1995 and now saturates syndicated television from local networks to TBS, who Cosmo Kramer’s inspiration Kenny Kramer argued that Yeganeh's nickname is unfair, and jokingly suggests his nickname be changed to Al, The Soup Rat Bastard because of indeed having a reputation of both serving great soups and rudely treating customers…….(rises up to the surface for air)…….is now prepared to divide and conquer the world, one nation at a time (ducks and covers)

Yes sir, the very man whose inspiration even inspired a category of its very own in a November 30, 2004 Seinfeld-themed Jeopardy! Episode which is the very episode that snapped Ken Jennings’ 74-time winning streak, is prepared to cross the pond and get quids in with his Original SoupMan franchise. So be prepared, Britons, as he will be charting the waters of each and every one of your canals within the next year, opening fifty new franchises in London, Manchester, Birmingham and every roundabout and zed bend in-between, offering not only one seafood, one vegetarian, one spicy Mexican chili, one clear both, several wild card soups and chilled in-season soups in every restaurant, but the rules as well! Dun-dun-dunnnnnnnnn! Ahhhhhhhhhh! Naaahhh, the directions are far more straight-forward and as plain as a pikestaff…..just make sure you pay attention, and remember Yeganeh’s Standing Order go as follows:

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1) Pick the soup you want.

2) Have your money ready.

3) Move to the extreme left after ordering.

4) If you want bread, crackers, or other condiments…order them with the soup.

5) Line must be single file.

6) No talking, kissing, hugging, etc. in the line. (Hey, now that I can’t accept, endorphiny is my creed……hey…..what are you doing to me.....no....NOT THE END OF THE LINE, ANYTHING BUT THE END OF THE LINE!!!!!)

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Perhaps I should just settle for some homemade chicken soup for the soul to save all the unnecessary effort! (giggles) But his ssssooouuppsss arrrreee sooooooo tttassssssstttyyyy! LOL! Anyway, good luck conforming to the creed of the Original Soup Man, mates! This experience may be as queer as a clockwork orange to the lot of you, but in the long term everyone will be much happier. No longer will you have to succumb to the salmonella of semolina, no longer will you have to sweep those rollmops under the rug, no longer will you be smacking on your black pudding Snack Packs, no longer will you go plotz on your plonk, and especially no longer will you be trippin’ upon chippies and mushy peas. Allow Mister Yeganeh to pull up a bollard for y’all and open all you rugger buggers to the chowder, bisque, vichyssoise and old Uncle Tom Cobley and all. I’m tellin’ you, he’s gonna put y’all over the moon, but please, oh please…..do not mention the war (I mentioned it once, but I think I got away with it alright, heh heh heh!)

*

Ahhhhhh yyyeeessss, speaking of the war....ooops, sorry sorry, I mean, that is to say.....on a related topic, the real-life locale of BBC’s cult classic comedy “Fawlty Towers”, Torquay’s Hotel Gleneagles, soon will no longer have herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically across the plains, fire alarms that are not a semitone higher than the burglar alarms, all you-can-eat wardorf salad bars, and for the Chef De Jour a packet of sliced hippopotamus in suitcase sauce.

Yeppers, soon the Hotel Gleneagles will be standing out like chapel hatpegs, as it is preparing to undergo a huge luxurious facelift expensed at one million pounds (or $1.8 million dollars), including a new ground-level swimming pool and al fresco dining area, a conservatory, and a luxurious main lounge. In addition, the ceilings have been raised, Italian chandeliers have been installed everywhere, chairs have been imported from Holland, new carpets have been installed around every corridor, forty 40 skip-loads of rubbish have been removed, and all 41 bedrooms now boast balconies and half enjoy sea views, which a double room with breakfast now costs between 140 and 180 pounds…..all the very things Basil Fawlty could ever begin to pine for. The co-owner Brian Shone says the new management team is aiming for a "boutique style without the cold shivery-ness of some London boutique hotels". Ahhhhhh yes, and perhaps we should check to see if they’ve moved the hotel a lil’ bit to the left.

Despite being refurbished into a boutique hotel, not all the kippers and corpses of yesteryears will come to pass. There will be a selection of TV paraphernalia in the lobby, although everything else on the seven-acre facility will be free of talking moose heads, demented hotel managers that visit you in the small hours of the night and put bats up your nightdress and thrash their own cars with tree branches, senile Majors, and enormous savage rodents that answer to the name of Sybil (except of course for the fact that Prunella Scales, who played the force to be reckoned that was Sybil Fawlty on “Fawlty Towers” will officially open the revamped hotel on September 18th.)

“Fawlty Towers” was born after John Cleese and the rest of the Monty Python rat pack booked into the Gleneagles hotel during the 1970’s, which they said was then being currently ran by a bugger named Donald Sinclair and his wife Beatrice, who Donald was a naval officer when his wife acquired a private house on the English countryside and worked to turn it into a hotel, naming it Gleneagles to honor her Scottish heritage, which the real-life Gleneagles has long been far greater than the “Fawlty Towers” hotel. However, Cleese and others of the Monty Python crew have long mentioned that their experience with Donald Sinclair at Gleneagles was a most tumultuous one, being so ferocious that he would become the true-life embodiment of the Basil Fawlty character. He was especially known for going ballistic when watching them hold and use their forks and knives incorrectly, as well as throwing one of their briefcases over a wall because he mistook it for a time bomb.

Yep, due September 18th, they’ll have everything…..handbags…..knuckle-dusters…..flick-knives, sorry sorry, and they’ll no longer ever be out of Wardorfs! (giggles) So go on, get out on the tiles and get all cockahoop! Oh, and by the way, Manuel is enjoying a wonderful life back in Barcelona now, learning how to make a nice, hearty hammer sandwich and perfecting his acclaimed world-class ratatouille with his secret ingredient. You guessed it; lots and lots of basil! ;)

Blimey, I’ve talked too much here again! Now, if you excuse me, I’m gonna get me a room, with breakfast in bed: eggs, bacon, sausage, tomato, Waldorf Salad, and all washed down with lashings of hot screwdriver! (giggles) Oh, wait, can I exchange the eggs, bacon and sausage for tofu, gluton and green curried rice?

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

Annexing The Pleasurable Playground Beyond The Sandbox

Yippey-doodle dandy, I got my first-ever official non-advertising comment here at home sweet home, this Serotonin Sandbox, from my fellow, floaty, palsy-walsy Triple Aquarius sidekick, D.J Wagner! :) She is the pony-tailed prima donna of the front desk at KBOO every Wednesday afternoon and early evening, who is seldom seen without a Cheshire grin on her face and certainly is the ultimate Aquarius, LOL! Though Aquarius is one of the least compatible signs with Scorpio, I have always admired Aquarians in that they have a rich, worldly, humanitarian philosophy they breathe and live at heart, and really I, being a Scorpio who can tend to stubbornly cling to a particular opinion and such, respects and learns so much from Aquarians in that they honor truth ever so diligently in life and are always willing to see both sides of every story without preaching to the choir and rather sing in the middle of the aisle. Often I hear them depicted as the “hippy sign” and I have to say I absolutely agree with that from my experience, in that they ensphere the Quaker notion of being “open to truth, from whatever source it comes," and have a little piece of everyone in their social, multi-cultural free spirits.

Aquarians are really one of the most spiritual signs in the zodiac, who believe in the universal recognition in that we are one global, holistic family, and also ignite the spark in the more practical of minds and hearts to motivate and use their intellect to fulfill their missions of magnanimity for all of mankind. In fact their love for society is so unconditional that they can tend to feel isolated from the world at large often, and I can very well relate to that experience as Scorpios like myself are also concerned with justice and don’t make friends that easily either because of our early heartaches that lead us to not helping but distrust most later in life. Aquarians are positively progressive and visionary and I believe if we could patiently and calmly look them through the eyes more often, and explore the spark of largesse foaming like blue moon kissed waters across their coronas, we can all reach a worldly awakening and see things through for future generations for the better.

Yesterday, I was as happy as a coon eating grapes introducing D.J to the News Department, and helping produce her glorious debut report on last week’s 2006 Waterfront Blues Festival setting an all-time best in total donations contributed to the Oregon Food Bank. Again, I would just like to take the moment to thank both all you wonderful folks out there who tuned in and heard me showboating on and off about the live music and the dragonflies darting about at Tom McCall Waterfront Park, as well as all y’all who helped eliminate the root cause of hunger in Oregon and Clark County, Washington with your generous contributions to the Oregon Food Bank, go ahead and grandstand and rodomontade all you want, you deserve it, LOL! Anyway, yes, the Safeway Waterfront Blues Festival splinterized the previous donations record set in 2003 of approximately $364,000, collecting about $545,000 at the gate and 103,501 pounds of food, and D.J announced it as proud as a peacock in her hopped up premiere. Just like with helping make Edison Garder’s home-grown, environmental KBOO beat “Our Backyard” a staple sensation every Wednesday, D.J is destined to become the next perennial persona grata of the KBOO Evening News, yay! :) And again, thank you for illuminating the Serotonin Sandbox with your friendly illuminations of your own! (giggles)

*

Anyway, I am preparing to annex this pulsating playground beyond the Serotonin Sandbox, as my poetic pheromones are prepared to surmount and spring from my testosterone trampoline into a new erotic, estrogenic estuary. Mmmmm, you heard me right, I’m preparing an erotic spin-off to the Emmanuel Endorphin’s Serotonin Sundae concept poetry series titled ”Maithuna Mysophilia’s Magnetic Mirror Of The Mind” As some of you may be aware, my love for wordplay and puns originated from my flirtatious rhyming and coupling of sexy, saucy words from erotic dictionaries and sites which would certainly be most suggestive to many, LOL, and then after writing early erotica I developed a love and appreciation for the playing of words in all genres, and this new concept poetry series takes all you space cadets into a whole new endorphiny estuary, through the deepest and most delicate desires and fantasies of the human heart, as well as through eroticism beyond the body.

Here is the tentative title listing for the forthcoming series:

*

1: Nayika Siddhi
2: Ben-Wa, Pharaoh Of The Pheromones
3: On Va Chez Toi Ou Chez Moi?
4: Laetitia Lockheart’s Luscious Lounge Of Licentious Lovebirds
5: Shanti, Shakti, Shambhu
6: In And Out Of Every Breath (Hong-Sau)
7: Outer Spaces Of Innuendos
8: Lighting The Torch Of Eternity
9: Slow Dancing With The Lips Of The Original One
10: Naked Promise In A Glance
11: Valisa Vincilagnia & The Venus Butterflies
12: Are You Ridin’ Dirty?
13: Daisy Chains And Candy Canes
14: Thick As Thieves Begging On Their Knees
15: Can Your Midnight Cowgirl Play The Fiddle?
16: Transcending The Twilight Worship

*

*

(blushes) The truth is, being the sensual and salacious yet sensitive Scorpio I am, many of my poems have been inspired from erotic fantasies and dreams I have every day. For instance, you may not have previously known this, but my inspiration for the cosmic 2004 summer anthem “Vulpecula Vixen” came from a Suicide Girls model of the same name (“Vixen”) who I developed a huge strange crush on, with her fresh-face, colorful fluorescent deadlocks and her glowing, glaring body.

Also, the actress Susan Ward is the muse who put my song “Fast Company” through the wind tunnel. She is both full of feminine grace and bubbly, mirthful southern hospitality that I have a crush on her too and it inspired this “racey” melody with an old school sound.

And so stay tuned for this mesmerizing meandering through the sensual, mysterious mirror of the mind, as well as many more scintillating summer sprinklers, yay! :) In the meantime, time for me to sink my teeth in Kinky Friedman’s “Elvis, Jesus & Coca-Cola”! Jumpin’ Jehozephat!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-10T23:42:00.000-07:00

Happy Campers Basking In The Agate

Ahhhhh...nothing like a refreshing, trance-inducing weekend on the Oregon shore to re-charge that Vitamin D lickety-split. I just got back from Happy Camp Hideaway in Netarts Bay this morning and though my tan-lines aren’t as pronounced as, say, that of the stripes on a zebra cake, LOL, I still got sand in my Birkenstocks even sitting here at KBOO, and there was even a strand of seaweed tangled between my toes on my daily 25 minute commute by foot down to Burnside Avenue from the Irvington district! :)

Happy Camp Hideaway

Anyhow, I was quite a happy camper indeed, staying with my family and my sister Noelle’s boyfriend Mike at the Skipper’s Loft conveniently located at 860 Happy Camp Road in the heart of Netarts, Oregon, part of a beach house residential area known as Happy Camp Hideaway only 88 minutes from the City of Roses. It is run by endorphin engineers known as Teresa and Bruce Lovelin, where Happy Camp Hideaway was originally built in 1902 as a beachfront inn, and now has expanded into sixteen separate homes and cabins that can accommodate as many as 75 guests between Netarts and Oceanside all along Netarts Bay, complete with that unobstructed scenic view, gourmet kitchens, CD players, cable TV, laundry service, crab cleaning areas, picnic tables, barbecues and community fire pits. Other homes went by names including “Camp Happy”, “Pelican’s Nest”, “O’Hearn’s Heron”, “Garner’s Getaway” and “The Lookout”.

The Netarts-Tillamook area truly has a wide and captivating history behind it, which can date back as far as the 1400’s, when Tillamook, or (Killamook) Native Americans inhabited a large area between Nehalem and the Salmon River and from the crest of the Coast Range to the Pacific Ocean, with their main village near the mouth of the Kilchis River. In fact, the word "Tillamook" translates as "Land of Many Waters." And many of the earliest Tillamook inhabitants in the Netarts area also settled around 1400, where Netarts originally extended from Cape Lookout to Cape Meares, and according to the language of the local Killamooks, "Ne ta at", meant "near the water." Which was later modernized to the name as it is now. The native tribes are well-known to have occupied the area on the spit and at most creek outlets around the bay, mainly at Wilson Beach. Even the "Octopus" tree on Cape Meares, known to be a Ripley's "Believe it or Not," display! :)

By 1579, Sir Francis Drake first sailed along the Oregon coast, and charted on his maps the words "Portus Nove Albionis," which is agreed by historians to be Nehalem Bay in Tillamook County. By 1765, the first use of the word “Oregon” is thought to have been discovered in a petition by Major Robert Rogers to the Kingdom of Great Britain, referring to the territory known as “Ouragon” and asking for money to prepare a journey in the search for the Northwest Passage. Yet some say the indigenous people of the Northwest referred to the Columbia River as “the great Ouragon” and was later anglicized to its current spelling, while yet more believe it originates from the French word “ouragan”, meaning “hurricane”, and that the Columbia River got that name because of its tumultuous currents like that of a hurricane. And (believe it or not YET again, it’s argued in the 2001 Oregon Historical Quarterly by archaeologists Scott Byram and David G. Lewis that the name came from the word oolighan, referring to grease made from fish, which the Native Americans of the region traded in. And (I promise this is the last one, LOL) yet again, three years later in the same quarterly publication, Professor Thomas Love and Smithsonian linguist Ives Goddard professed that maybe, just maybe, Rogers used the word because he had visited Algonquian tribes and found inspiration through their words “wauregan” and “olighin”, both meaning “good and beautiful” respectively. (I like that last theory the most!)

Whatever the heck the Beaver State’s name comes from, I’m proud either way to be an Oregonian, as I often like to think of this great state as the unpretentious, shy and affable little sister between a sometimes patronizing California to the south, which sometimes tends to make Oregon feel left behind in the mix with its haut monde Hollywood hullabaloo and sunnier beaches, and the gilt-edged guises and cognoscenti cream of society that polka-dots parts of Washington to the north, from the Hercule Poirot-esque Starbucks moustaches to private beaches where the proprietors can do doughnuts on the beach sands if they wanted to any day. Oregon often gets pushed around in coastal competitive spirit for kind of being like the plain old Sandy Olsson of the Pacific coast, where we’re just far more underdeveloped than both our bigger brothers to the north and south, but that’s exactly what I love about this state; it’s a state that can prove itself without anything to prove, and nowhere else in the Lower 48 will you find an entire state oceanfront with all public access, nowhere west of the Mississippi will you enjoy that marionberry parfet without paying the sales tax, and all in all Oregon is a state that just is, naturally.

Anyhow, I spent the whole weekend entrenched and baptized in the “land of many waters” alright, nestled warmly the rest of each day in the Skipper’s Loft. Each of the individual beach houses in Happy Camp Hideaway had everything; beach blankets, cable TV, central heating, bunk beds, Queen Sofas…..even a panoramic balcony with a wide scenic view which you can stare from for hours through your binoculars. Every afternoon I stared off into a sandbar barely in the distance, where hordes of sea lions gathered for happy hour. There must have been at least 75 of them there on that single stretch of sand, probably as many as 200 altogether. (sits in shock with mouth agape) Anyway, I took two walks each day there, one north and one south, and then much the rest of the day my family and I just gathered around the flat-screen TV, watching DVDS as wide as “Beverly Hills Ninja” and “The Weather Man”, enjoying roasted vegetables on skewers, sweet corn on the cob and Tofurky vegetarian Italian sausages for supper, and couldn’t resist watching Cesar Millan work his animal therapy deftness on The National Geographic Channel’s “Dog Whisperer” and show owners how they can keep their pets mentally stable by setting “rules, boundaries, and limitations.” (my favorite episode I saw was “Demon Chihuahua”, where an owner named Tina Madden had a chihuahua named Nunu who would yelp and frighten anyone besides Tina, and Sir Cesar brought his dominance philosophy forth to tame the lil’ gremlin into an obedient, courteous pup.)

My most epic mystical journey came Saturday afternoon at 5:00, when I traveled approximately two miles north along the Oregon Coast on the sands where the water would just kiss my feet every few seconds like the lips of a Pisces, looking to the south and pretending that I was in Bali. I was talking like a pirate to myself throughout most of the adventure, trekking all the way to Oceanside where Three Arch Rock is located, two miles south of Cape Meares, which is home to three large rocks (Finley Rock, Shag Rock, Mid Rock) and six smaller rocks totaling fifteen acres, which four of them serve as seabird feeding colonies, with Finley Rock having the most vegetation at about 300 feet above sea level. Twelve species of seabirds breed there, combining to as many as nearly a quarter million birds, including the largest murre colony south of Alaska with 22,000 murres (or 30%) breeding in Oregon. It also harbors 60% of the Tufted Puffin breeding population in Oregon, as well as 800 endangered Brown Pelicans and up to 13 Bald Eagles.

So I walked all the way up alongside the Three Arch Rocks in Oceanside, and then eyed this block-long tunnel cave forged straight through the rock on the northern edge of the Oceanside coast, which apparently was cut by the founders of Oceanside, J.H. and H.H. Rosenberg in 1926, and was designed simply to give visitors access to the beach of Maxwell Point north of Oceanside and south of Cape Meares. Actually, I learned a landslide closed the tunnel in 1979, and it wasn’t until 1999 when a great storm sluiced the tunnel wide open again, with a tiny stretch of concrete on the south side of the tunnel erected to ensure future maintenance. Simply walking through it toward Maxwell Point was purely piratical, especially on the half closest to Maxwell’s Point with all the sharp stones and occasional ducking, and especially with the wind getting stronger the deeper you lurk into it, the air getting thicker and the darker it gets, it was more than enough for me to shanty, “Sink me, we’re fine, young and handsome brethen of the coast this ere day, yar har har!”

So I came right out the other end handsomely and walked as far as I could along Maxwell’s Point, until I was surrounded by echelons of sedimentary sentinels and could no longer proceed without heading inland. And, avast, it was there I spun that bowsprit 180 and stared my spyglass back towards the Skipper’s Loft, yarrrr har har! Yar, and more over upon my arrival at 7:30 .M, after having spent two-and-a-half hours lost at beach, my family had supper prepared that feeds all salmagundi to the fish; vegetable skewers and grilled tofu over charcoal briquettes, and washing it all down with a pint of marionberry soda.

It’s a shame I couldn’t stay here a whole week, as there is just so much to do in this area with so little time; you could drive six miles south of Tillamook on U.S 101 and visit Munson Falls, a relic of a waterfall crowned with red cedar and Sitka spruce that stands 319 feet tall. You could drive down all along the 35-mile Three Capes Scenic Route from Cape Meares to Cape Kiwanda, and stop in Pacific City to the south and brave the 45-degree climb up one of Oregon’s largest sand dunes on the northern end of Cape Kiwanda, where from there you can get perfect views of the Oregon Coast from either side of the cape and then make like a grommet back down the gargantuan sand palace on a boogie board. You could head over to the lighthouse on Cape Meares. Yo ho ho, you can steer to Pirate’s Cove in Garibaldi for the finest oyster dinner. Heck, you can even play Bingo every Saturday night at 7:00 P.M at the Netarts Fire Hall. But by God, whatever you do, be sure you hide that watch, and howl at the moon like you mean it, owwww woooooooooooo! In any case, the dopamine in me is drooling to come back soon, and with a name as mirthful as Happy Camp Hideaway, how could I resist, yay! :)

*

Yarrrrr, while we’re on the subject of pirates, here’s a story that’ll jump-start the roaring forties with a vengenace and shout, “You’ve got to be Kiddin’ me!” Yar, that’s right, calls have been made by Scots, history buffs and descendants of Captain Kidd for an American writer named Richard Zacks to be keel-hauled and sentenced to painting the lion after claiming in a newly-published biography of Captain Kidd titled “The Pirate Hunter: The True Story of Captain Kidd,” that this most famous son of Greenock's most famous sons is…..well…..not actually from Greenock, but rather from Dundee. But nar, nar, that’s not all…….he also dares to argue that Captain Kidd wasn’t even a proper pirate like Blackbeard, claiming, "The mistake about Kidd has snowballed through history to the point where Blackbeard and Kidd are the two most famous pirates who ever lived. Blackbeard deserves it, but Kidd doesn't at all. At most he made a couple of questionable captures, but there's no way he should go down as the most bloodthirsty pirate."

Yarrrrr, how Zacks will wish he never dared to cross swords even with our loblolly’s boy, yar har har, har har! Yo ho ho, he’ll be high and dry as Fanny Adams once the lips of every Scot and pirate enthusiast speak into his wet ears, yar har! I mean c’mon now, he was a walking, breathing floating academy with Dutchman’s breeches, and now Zacks has even broke the hearts of those like 82-year old William Peterson of Greenock who believes he is descended from the bloodline of Captain Kidd and believes, "Reading the stories I have, you would say that he was not a bad pirate and was definitely from Greenock." and Neil Bristow, spokesman for local heritage group Magic Torch, who believes, "We totally, totally refute that. We have had a look at original trial documents that show Greenock as his place of origin. We defend Greenock's right to have a folk hero."

Yarrrrrr, I have no care what this supposed mess deck lawyer thinks, a $135 million weekend for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest” and me hearties should be testament enough that we are all gentlemen o’ fortune on the account, yo ho ho! Yar har, even Michelle Branch admitted to Maxi magazine once, “This is going to sound stupid, but I have a pirate fetish. It started when someone in my band hurt their eye and had to wear an eye patch. I realized that I always thought pirates were sexy."

Ahoy, let’s all get loaded to the gunwales, me hearties……on marionberry soda that is, yo ho ho! Yarrrrrr, who’s in for Jack O’ Staves Backgammon at the Ol’ Crack Jenny’s Tea Cup? Nar nar, it’s all isolated now………how about bingo at the Netarts Fire Hall? Yar har har, those wild numbers shall serve me well, aye!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-07T11:42:00.000-07:00

You Got Some Crumbs Around The Mohawk There…..Mind If I Dig In?

Author Michael Turback, who was trained as a restaurateur at the Cornell University School of Hotel Administration and operated Turback's of Ithaca in New York for nearly three decades, has yet another vision, after already taking us on a mystical journey into the history and origin of the Banana Split and sharing over 150 versions of this dessert that “also reflects our genius for invention, passion for indulgence, and reputation for wackiness.“ and is “like no other dessert in the world--a grand idea that could only be conceived in a place as grand as America." through “The Banana Split Book” and revealing the finest wineries, blueberry farms, maple syrup companies and tea rooms flickering about the Great Lakes in “Greetings From The Finger Lakes”.

Now, Turback is back with a vengeance. Only this time, he’s out to prove that you can tell a little bit about what part of the country you're in by the sundaes on the menu.

According to Turback, as with the banana split, which he even praised as "the Liberace of desserts." the ice cream sundae is as much of an American tradition as baseball, apple pie and whistling underwater. Our history lesson begins in the 1700’s, when this cold culinary concoction finally became what is commonly known as the ice cream we know and love today, centuries after the fifth century B.C when ancient Greeks sold snow cones mixed with honey and fruit in downtown Athens, long after the Persians invented chilled pudding made from rosewater and vermicelli, before the raspberry cream ice recipe was stamped into the 1751 edition of The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy by Hanna Glasse. Back then, it used to only be sold in the richest of households, and it was then-ambassador-to-France Thomas Jefferson's obsession with ice cream that brought new versions of the dessert across the Atlantic. Little did Sir Jefferson realize that resistance was futile, and the colonists seized upon the silky succulence and spread it all across the country, which Turback retraces the footprints from sea to shining sea.

When this book is getting praise from subscriptions as different as Good Housekeeping and Playboy Magazine, you know it’s gotta be good. In fact, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the origin of the term sundae is obscure. Thomas Jefferson is said to have enjoyed maple syrup on a dish of vanilla ice cream, which is similar to a sundae but before the name was said to be invented. However, one popular belief is that the Ice Cream Soda was notorious for its “sinfulness” and there were many calls for a substitute to be made for consumption on Sunday. In fact, Gretchen Sachse of Tompkins County, New York and the DeWitt Historical Society claimed that one hot Sunday afternoon in 1891 in Ithaca, New York, John M. Scott, a Unitarian Church pastor, and Chester Platt, Platt & Colt Pharmacy partner, created the first known sundae, which became known as the “Cherry Sunday“, where Mr. Platt covered dishes of ice cream with syrup and candied cherries on a whim, which this soda fountain made sundaes with this very recipe shortly after, where the first documented advertisement for a "Cherry Sunday" was placed in the Ithaca Daily Journal in 1892 by Chester Platt. Then, the spelling of this dessert developed in 1892, when the name was forced to be changed to "sundae" when Methodist leaders in Evanston, Illinois objected to such a frivolous use of the name of “the Lord's day.” (Despite the name change, ice cream is still eaten on Sunday more than any other day of the week)

The sundae, Turback writes, is an "authentically American ... symbol of our abundance and appetite, our ingenuity, our never-lost youth. In a nation of fickle tastes, it has shown remarkable durability." We eat more ice cream than people in any other country, averaging 15 quarts per person each year, and many of our national heroes became soda jerks at one point in their long, rich lives.

In fact, Ithaca, New York and Two Rivers, Wisconsin are still flinging goop at each other with Zeroll ice cream scoops arguing each town is the official birthplace of the ice cream sundae, trying to put an end to the other’s SMD’s (Sundaes of Mass Deception). Last week, after Ithaca Mayor Caroline Peterson made a proclamation that Purity Ice Cream on Rote 13 in Ithaca had proof to call the sundae its own, and claimed July as National Ice Cream Month and announced the Sunday Sundaes promotion, in which nine participating Ithaca restaurants will offer free Purity ice-cream sundaes to patrons who order an entree at their respective establishment on Sundays in July, Two Rivers has fought back by mailing 30 postcards from Two Rivers residents claiming their city — not Ithaca — as the rightful birthplace of the ice cream sundae.

Of course Turback, being a native Ithacan, believes Ithaca is the undeniable official birthplace, claiming that about eight other towns also claimed the sundae as their invention but calls them “the great pretenders.” while Bruce Stoff of the Ithaca/Tompkins County Convention and Visitors Bureau believes Two Rivers’ claim to be an urban legend comparable to “Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster”. Als, Ithaca claims to have a Daily Journal advertisement from 1892 depicting a sundae, which got the city manager of Two Rivers, Greg Buckley, saying, “I'm not aware that we have a smoking gun like a newspaper ad,”

But Two Rivers is sticking to their egg cream kits too, distributing several hundred postcards at Two Rivers' 26th annual Sundae Thursday celebration June 22nd, containing a verse that reads,

*

“Ice cream sundaes are sweet,
And they give you the shivers,
Just remember they started,
Right here in Two Rivers!”

*

And Buckley intends to “fire a couple more shots in July,” while Ithaca continues its July Sundae Sundays promotion, which started the sundae war and birthplace claim, though he added, “But we might be looking at a more protracted battle — a seven-years war thing.” But I don’t know…..everyone knows it can’t be called a sundae if it has the whipped cream and cherry on top, and there’s well-documented evidence that even if Two Rivers created the rest of it, Ithaca was the first to officially put the fruit on top, so it’s looking like quite an uphill battle for you, Two Rivers, especially when you’re lacking an icon like Michael Turback! (giggles)

Anyway, Turback certainly “burned one all the way” across America, and has documented in “More Than A Month Of Sundaes” how sundae recipes differ from coast to coast, from Keene, New Hampshire, where you can get the one-of-a-kind fruit-salad sundae, to Sweet Home Foley, Alabama, where you can crawl around in Lower Alabama Mud, to Grapevine, Texas where you can get blitzy with “The Ritzy Splitzy” at Ritzy’s, to Las Cruces, New Mexico, where you can stand up against four-alarm fireworks in their green chile sundae (vanilla ice cream laced with spicy-sweet green chile marmalade.), and all the way to Big Timber, Montana for the “Big Timber Sundae” at Cole Drug. Yeppedy-yi-yay, he went shaking one in the hay, documenting 365 sundaes in 50 states, from the quintessential to the preposterous.

And where to go in the Beaver State where they make it cackle, you say?

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Lewis and Clark
Zinger’s Ice Cream Parlor
210 Broadway
Seaside
(503) 738-3939

Much Ado About Fudge
Lithia Fountain & Grill
303 East Main
Ashland
(541) 488-0179

Turtle Sundae
Goody’s Soda Fountain
957 NW Wall St.
Bend
(541) 389-5185

Black and White Sundae
Taylor’s Ice Cream Fountain
296 S. Main St.
Independence
(503) 838-1124

Strawberry Shortcake Sundae
Tillamook Ice Creamery and Restaurant
37 A Ave.
Lake Oswego
(503) 636-4933

Hanna Banana Slug Split
Slugs ‘n Stones Ice Cream Cones
16360 Lower Harbor Rd.
Brookings
(541) 469-7584

Euphoria Hot Fudge Sundae
Prince Puckler’s Ice Cream
1605 E. 19th Ave.
Eugene
(541) 344-4418

Screaming Brownie Sundae
Mike’s Ice Cream
504 Oak St.
Hood River
(541) 386-6260

*

So if you doth protest too much of thy toothache not being appeased with syrupy seduction, there’s Much Ado About Fudge in Ashland this summer, where the Oregon Shakespeare festival is in full bloom. Ah, thou art a votary to fond desire indeed! Or inch on over to Slug ‘N Stones ice Cream Cones for that Hanna Banana Slug Split to unleash that cartoon hero centerfold!

From the Tuscaloosa Turtles to the Wet Walnuts among us, the ice cream sundae is indeed “versatility, creative achievement, construction technique, and respect for tradition." to the first degree, monuments of momentous merrymaking and tongue-wagging hacky-sack. The spoon is your scepter; how you decide to divide and conquer the fountain of youth is your destiny.

Driftin’ on down now to Netarts Bay southwest of Tillamook for the weekend…..where my family and I have a beach house for rentle….and alchemy hour awaits…..sort of anyway. (giggles)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-07-03T20:57:00.000-07:00

Plural Possessive Coin Of The Spirit

(prepares Jim Hightower impersonation voice) Heidi, hire yew? I got a riddle for yew; who’s as country as a dozen brown eggs, can be as nutty as a squirrel’s breakfast, rides a Yom Kippur Clipper that stops on a dime and picks it up, and wants to reduce the speed limit in Texas to 54.95?

You guessed it, it’s none other than Kinky Friedman, who got his very nickname when a college roommate called him “Kinky” for his messy curly black hair, the one and only original black Stetsoned, Montecristo No. 2-chomping, spiritual advertising Jewish cowboy, and the only political candidate in American history to have ever openly admitted and has written extensively about his past cocaine use, to have flown in Led Zeppelin's private plane, and to have performed front and center at the Grand Ole Opry, certainly all out of the ordinary in a world where individualism and independence in politics is as scarce as hen’s teeth.

Kinky (who was born Richard) is the son of a speech therapist and an educational psychology professor, who taught at the Austin campus of the University of Texas, and, during the summers, ran with the whole family a camp for children ages 7 to 13, in the Texas hill country that has lasted for 52 years. He has written dozens of humorous Country-Western songs, including his first single in 1966 with a local band called King Arthur and the Carrots titled "Schwinn 24" as well as songs like "Beach Party Boo Boo." which were parodies of surfing songs by Jan and Dean. He eventually during the ‘70s infused social satire into the fringes of country music as he formed the band Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys, with extravagant stage shows loaded with chauvinism and personality in anthems such as "They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus Anymore","Get Your Biscuits in the Oven (And Your Buns in the Bed)." and to this day even is the writer of the only country song ever recorded about the Holocaust, “Ride 'Em, Jewboy”.

After taking a break from music, Kinky Friedman claims to have spent the rest of the 1970’s "lost on 11 herbs and spices." and lived with his family “about as long as Jack Kerouac lived with his mother.” in a loft in New York on Vandam Street all the way up into the mid-80’s. It was then he began plotting his return with a vengeance; by becoming a successful mystery novelist with over 20 books to his credit to date including: “Elvis, Jesus and Coca-Cola”, “Armadillos and Old Lace”, and “Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned”. Each of the novels features a eponymous, black Stetsoned, cigar-chomping alter ego who solves crimes but in the end of each hard-working day returns to a life not riddled with money and enjoys a good book and smoke, and as Friedman explains, “my attitude all along was very Gandhi-like. The only currency I value is the coin of the spirit. That's very important in my life.” He is also famous for saying, “Money may buy you a fine dog, but only love can make it wag its tail.”

Kinky Friedman also volunteered for Peace Corps after college after being inspired by President John F. Kennedy, where after trying to serve in Tanzania, served in Borneo from 1967-1969 by helping distribute seeds and working as an agricultural extension worker, teaching people who did farming professionally for more than two thousand years how to improve their methods. Time and time again he has said how “all of us have some little village in our hearts that we’ll probably never see again.” with his being Longlama all the way back in the "jolo", or jungle, which he proudly ruminates that he “not only learned a lot, but it was the best work any of us ever did.” he also has shared many anecdotes of his experiences, including that the natives are former headhunters, that the Kayan tribe are a very peaceful people these days who love to fish who he fished with, and even mentioned their word for fishing means “visiting the fish” because they never catch any, and then get drunk from a rice wine they make called tuoc, lighting torches and having fun along the riverside. He also credits his primary accomplishment as introducing the Frisbee to the natives, which “they used to make their lips big.” (giggles)

Finally, Friedman is known for his magnanimity and philanthropic work, especially in his unconditional love for animals. He is an animal rights activist having founded Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch, whose mission is to care for stray, abused and aging animals, who has saved more than 1,000 dogs from euthanasia (Recently Friedman adopted 24 greyhounds from New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina) He is also pushing for the closure of a horse-slaughter plant in Kaufman, Texas, thirty miles south of Dallas, and is following in the footsteps of Sir Paul Newman and has made his own Kinky Friedman Private Stock salsa, where proceeds go to the Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch, and also partnering with Farouk Shami to sell Holy Land olive oil, with all the profits going to fund summer camps for Palestinian and Israeli children to get together.

And now......Kinky is expanding this extension of the truth-telling into yet another venue…..politics…..where once again he has something to prove to the world, once and for all, after once admitting after a failed run for Justice of the Peace in 1986 that by age 60 he wanted nothing more or less than to be the Salsa King of Texas, and he is putting his spiritual calling full circle.

Friedman believes what Henry Kissinger (whose politics were certainly as polarizing as most) said, in that “90 percent of politicians give the other 10 percent a bad name.” Friedman makes the most truest point that Texas has not elected an independent for governor since 1859 (Sam Houston) and that ever since then, America has become “wussified”, where political correctness has taken the nation hostage and has swallowed independence from within, where our rigid two-party system has hijacked each state and has left us with nothing but an endless behavior cycle where “the Democrats got a good idea, the Republicans shoot it down. The Republicans have an idea, the Democrats kill it.“ and has left us in an albatross of a situation where we have “a majority of nonwhite, Democratic-leaning people, and the Democrats can’t get to first base in Texas.” while “the Republicans control all the leadership positions in our legislature, and they can’t get any legislation passed.” and all of this is happening while he believes the leaders of both parties are folks who just like to stare at themselves in the mirror, where $100 million each election season is being spent on negative attack ads and media coverage to get a job that is only worth $100,000 each year, which I agree with Friedman 110% when he says, “Do you think Jesus Christ, Gandhi, Martin Luther King would do that? They all died broke, right? Would Jesus have paid $100 million to buy an election? I don’t think they would. Those guys were independent.”

Friedman claims that a near-death experience he endured in Cabo San Lucas about five years ago inspired him to consider running:

*

“I was stranded, clutching on the side of a cliff for almost 48 hours in Cabo San Lucas five or six years ago. I was on vacation, and I got hit by a freak wave as I was walking on the beach one night that threw me up against the cliff. I thought I was going to die. And I was stranded on this cliff and it was pitch black; I was dehydrated, and I thought no one would find me. This was a private beach, with really expensive luxury homes—Sly Stallone lives there, people like that—and no one would ever think something bad could happen there. That same night a 16-year-old boy was caught in a similar riptide, along the same stretch of beach, and died. I was eventually rescued.

While I was on the cliffside, I kept thinking that there’s got to be more to life than being a Ronald Reagan pitchman, you know? And I thought, if I live through this, I’m going to do something that might have more meaning, that might help people achieve their own dreams, like I’ve been able to acheive mine.”

*

And so Kinky is out doing just that, believing that the whole system needs to be changed, there needs to be a spiritual campaign committed against the status quo, that voices like Ross Perot, Pat Buchanan and Ralph Nader should be heard and the underdog always deserves a chance, that our ancestors fought at the Alamo to “give us a choice besides plastic or paper.“ that indeed both Jesus and Moses were independents and we have to live up to their spirit and topple the windmills of politics like Rosa Parks toppled segregation and free our system of politicians and lobbyists, that “accidental candidates” like Davy Crockett can speak truth back into our political system and the voices of Mark Twain and Will Rogers can replace those of Tom DeLay and Jack Abramoff……and if he can indeed win as an Independent……that can send a shiver up the spine of every career politician in the country, and send a message all across America for the renaissance of political independence, and encouraging far more individuals to break the apathy and do the same thing. And, as Friedman believes, “it’s a perfect storm and a perfect time for an independent to be in here.” and that he can indeed be the one who drives many unlikely voters to the polls, for 71% of Texans did not vote in the last gubernatorial election.

Being an American with a socially conservative heart and a progressive mind, I am rather middle-of-the-road myself, and find myself relating to Kinky’s philosophy. Indeed I absolutely agree with activist Granny D when she says, “Our joy is our longbow!” and it’s because politicians have no sense of humor or common sense that his home state of Texas is ranked 1st in executions, toll roads and property taxes and 50th in public education and care of the elderly, and that indeed “humor is a good way of getting at the truth.” Friedman is a voice of common sense to me, who understands that you’ll be lucky to ever find a candidate nowadays who both supports gay marriage and supports prayer in public schools, who sees the irony in candidates who are against abortion but not against capital punishment, and vice versa, where “NASCAR people never go to the lesbians' tea-houses, and the lesbians never go to NASCAR” and so on. And he’s out to tear through this “wussification”, as he believes Texas is the last stand against wussification in that the cowboy remains and will always remain the greatest export of Texas to the world, regardless of how the word has become derogatorily used and described by some as bullies and loose cannons, and that cowboys really are those who stand up for the little people, the “knight out of time, beloved by all the children of the world.” who is “able to ride, to shoot straight and to tell the truth.” and acts the opposite of politically by standing up for common sense and “finding that beautiful place above politics where things get done.”

I admire many of the stances he is taking in his campaign as well on the issues, especially on education. He understands the obvious that our public schools are losing money over a growing national deficit, an expensive and reckless interventionist foreign policy and fiscal mismanagement, and strives to fund education by legalizing casino gambling and video poker terminals in state bars in a program which he calls “Slots For Tots”. But he also understands that the problem with public education goes far beyond the root of all money itself; he goes beyond the obvious in recognizing that the child-teacher relationship is also crucial, and has said himself, “The human side of it is important. The teaching profession is no longer a great profession. People regard it as just a job. They don't think it's a real job.” He also believes this:

*

“When you think the problem with education is all about financial and technological shortfalls, you’re making a mistake, because the problem is human. The answer is to go out and find that great teacher, the one that changes lives; and when we find him or her, we place them in our under-resourced schools where they’re most needed. And then we need to listen to that person when we make policy; learn from him or her—bring them to Austin or bring Austin to them. In other words, money may buy you a fine dog, but only love can make it wag its tail.”

*

And that’s what he’s setting out to do; stop the appointing of individuals that have never even seen the inside of a public school classroom like current governor Rick Perry has done, and appoint people with a genuine love for education, people like his friend Dylan Ferrerro, who he says is a fellow Peace Corps volunteer who taught in the jungle in Borneo, as well as in the ghettos of Oakland and special-ed in Comfort, Texas. Moreover, he wants to see young Americans find a voice and get represented in Texas, such as by filling the state university’s Board of Regents with college students who are passionate about education. Kinky is even quoted for saying that he wants bright, young people to run the state because “young people are less corrupt.” and that the governor is “basically like the judge of a big chili cookoff, but you can inspire young people, and you can appoint good people and let them do their job.” And his vision in the end is that Texas will no longer rank at the bottom in public education funding and that through this act of spiritual lifting, we can again “teach the kids that JFK is not an airport, RFK's not a stadium, Martin Luther King ain't a street.”

Moreover, Friedman wants to infuse his good Peace Corps karma right back into the Lone Star State, by creating the Texas Peace Corps, which would allow retirees to 'share their wisdom and love' by teaching music, the arts and shop in the public schools on a volunteer basis.

Friedman also wants to see once and for all that one in four Texan children don’t have any health insurance, and use Minnesota’s model, Minnesota Care, promoted in part by the state’s independent governor Jesse “The Body” Ventura, for improving the quality of health coverage in Texas (Minnesota is currently #1 in health coverage for adults and children) He also shares progressive insights like mine on encouraging the use of more renewable energies such as biodiesel, which he uses in his tour buses, and levying a 1 percent surcharge on Big Oil, Big Gas and big corporations to fund these alternative energy programs, as well as supporting gay marriage and putting an end to the high execution rates in Texas (their criminal population is higher than the entire population of Alaska, with as many as 60% non-violent drug users) by establishing a board that oversees the way the death penalty is used to see to it the wrong guy is never executed. He believes that the capital punishment mistake has gone to covering each and every one of its mistakes, and Texas doesn’t even have the option of sentencing someone to life without parole and it’s only “inject or eject”, who also has said the following:

*

"When was the last rich man executed in Texas?" The answer, of course, is never. So if we’re dealing with an imperfect system, the same system that killed another innocent man 2,000 years ago who now is widely regarded as the savior of the world, what have we learned? I’m just asking whether we should be wearing little crosses or Stars of David around our necks, or whether we should be wearing little gold-studded electric chairs. If you’re going to be against abortion you have to be against the death penalty. That’s a very unpopular stand here, by the way. But I stand by it.”

*

Kinky also appeals to the socially conservative side of me on tackling political correctness from the other side of the political spectrum on issues like border security, stopping mass smoke regulations and prayer in public schools. Indeed I absolutely agree with Kinky when he ponders over the paranoia of having nondenominational prayer in schools, “What’s wrong with a kid believing in something?” Indeed, “our kids need to believe in something, whether it's a tree or a rock. They don't believe in anything anymore.” and I believe there’s nothing wrong with believing, for I value faith in my life very much and believe it wrong for an individual atheist to decide statewide it is wrong for the Ten Commandments to be placed in any public venue. Whether you believe in a Holy spirit or not and whatever name you choose to address the Holy Spirit by over whichever religion, Kinky Friedman always says, “May the God of your choice bless you.” and atheists and agnostics have every right to believe and pray for something too in public schools, but regardless of belief, no one should have the right to take the right of others to express their belief or say “Merry Christmas!” away. And while I absolutely believe smokers can tend to be quite disrespectful to non-smokers in public places and I support some restrictions, widespread outdoor public bans on smoking are going way too far and leaves me wondering, “How far will this political correctness leak into our liberties…..will burning patchouli or sandalwood incense at the Portland Saturday Market be next?”

Victoria Billings once said, “There is no such thing as being too independent.” I certainly love imagining a governor with no strings attached, one where nobody owns him, totally untainted by politics, where young people, poets, musicians, artists, etc. run the government instead of politicians, who is more concerned about ironing out the problems of the state than his own dress coat and deciding for the interests of the people rather than whether or not one should wear French cuffs, interested A governor who doesn’t meet with the lobbyists but with the people, and Jesse Ventura, despite his follies, lived up to his promise of never meeting with a lobbyist. That convinces me that because Bill Hellsman, who was a mastermind behind both Jesse Ventura and Paul Wellstone’s campaigns, Kinky will bring that same independent spirit to Texas. After all, he promises a recount as the first thing when he becomes Governor, as well as getting rid of the toll roads and instead having four major highways named after Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Bob Wills and Buddy Holly! (giggles) And don’t forget changing the state song, “Texas, Our Texas” to "They Ain't Making Jews Like Jesus Anymore." :)

So I Noah Eaton, the pheromone pharaoh of the Serotonin Sandbox, am more than pleased and delighted to endorse Kinky Friedman for Governor of Texas this November, the one and original guy who never learned to sit too much, LOL! I’m endorsing Kinky because I believe he represents the hope for the future of this great nation, and that he‘s a citizen politician who can bring a breath of fresh air and a heart scattered, smothered and covered to a political establishment that has all but forgotten about the people, and whose victory can inspire a wave of new elected citizen politicians willing stand for the children and dreamers of this nation. This will likely be my only political endorsement of 2006, for though I’m hoping that the Democrats take back either control of the House or Senate in four months, it’s not because I support the Democrats, but because I believe in our checks and balances system and that the minority should always have a say in our system, thus am hoping they gain seats but don’t want to endorse them because I have my reservations with both parties. So let’s throw our Stenson hats up sky-high and offer a high falootin’ holler to Kinky! :)

Later this month, I’m going to contribute $30 to Kinky Friedman’s campaign, and in return, I’m going to get his special, handsome 13-inch tall talking action figure, which features him saying 25 of his favorite one-liners (Kinky himself had a tough time narrowing it down from 60, LOL!) including, “My heroes are teachers, firefighters, cops and cowboys.” and “I’m gonna de-wussify Texas if I have to do it one wuss at a time.” Yep, it’s a win-win situation; I’m supporting an attempt for political individualism, and in return I get a new endorphiny friend to play with! You can bet he’ll be on an upcoming Justice Offbeats episode, guest-starring as yours truly, Kinky Friedman! :)

Have a wonderful Fourth of July everyone, and remember, “Y'all is singular. All y'all is plural. All y'all's is plural possessive.”

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-06-29T23:48:00.000-07:00

Don’t Be So Groovy, Baby!

Last night I finally got to watch the 1992 Academy Award nominated Chinese film, “Raise The Red Lantern”, adapted by Ni Zhen from the 1990 novel Wives and Concubines by Su Tong, a Mandarin Chinese writer. It is set in 1920’s China, shortly before the Chinese Civil War, where the protagonist Songlian, who marries as the fourth wife (or Fourth Mistress) in the wealthy Chen family (her father had died and she struggled with poverty) Despite being treated with wealth and royalty at first, with spiffy foot massages every evening, bright red lanterns, and steamed tofu with spinach and stir-fried bean sprouts every lunch, she learns more about the social hierarchy taking place within the family, where the master would choose which wife he’d spend the night with, thus is constantly dueling with the other “Mistresses” for the affection and attention of their husband.

As the rivalry gets more intense between wives, Songlian fakes pregnancy to try and garner the attention of the master, though the second sister Zhuoyan, described as having “the face of a Buddha but the heart of a scorpion” takes advantage of her relations with Songlian’s maid to learn how she feigned her period, and is dishonored by having her lanterns burnt out and covered with black cloth. However, it is discovered that the maid had a secret illicit affair with the Master in Songlian’s bed, and her room is full of red lanterns, thus is punished by having all the lanterns burned and she chills to death in defiance in the freezing winter cold. In the end, Songlian decides the competition is entirely puerile and ridiculous, as each wife is subserviently nothing more than one of four "robes" that the master may wear and discard at his discretion.

As time goes on, where being part of the wealthy family used to have a sense of freedom to her, it begins feeling like a prison to her, and she even contemplates suicide to free herself from the heartache of being a concubine. She also overheard before of the Third Mistress Meishan, an opera singer who she befriends, and her affair with the doctor who checked up on her while faking her pregnancy, and when intoxicating herself on her 20th birthday during her depression, she accidentally blurts out the details of the affair, which leads to her murder which emotionally traumatizes Songlian further, and finally, the following summer, Songlian goes completely insane when she learns the master now has a fifth wife.

Definitely not an endorphiny, happy-dance inducing movie by any means, but a most touching and important film. Despite the film being a destined classic for generations to come, I have to confess that this first-ever DVD issuing of the film has to me (performing an impersonation of The Simpsons’ Comic Book Guy persona, also known as Jeff Albertson) got to be……the worst…..transfer……ever! I encourage everyone here to please see this brilliant film, but I also urge y’all NOT to purchase the DVD version. The beautiful directing, cinematography and artistic vision of the legendary Zhang Yimou, is all spoiled here, and is really a slap-in-the-face to Yimou and his widely-respected labor of love here. The picture has that sort of snap-crackle-pop quality, where in the original issuing of the film the director shows a mastery use of color and poetically illuminating the psychological undertones and social conflicts that are present, but on the DVD, all the colors bleed together and that aura is cancelled out, and you can even see black and white scratches on various picture frames.

Then, you have the musical score also negatively affected in consequence of this. There are musical numbers representative of each of the seasons, and the events and transitions between each one, from the flute solo at the very beginning, to Meishan singing, to Songlian’s realization of her social status, to the “House of Death”. And the poetry of it all is also hindered by the dicey sound quality.

It’s almost as though those responsible for transferring the film used a second-generation VHS copy to do just that, which wasn’t dusted off and sat in the attic for three decades. The saddest part of all is that anyone who watches this movie for the first time on DVD may instantly think of the directing quality as equivalent to that of a second-rate caddy using a decade-old camcorder for the sole purpose of trying to make a quick buck. And worse yet, we’re likely to have to wait many more years until the true DVD we were waiting for is released, and finally makes justice of Yimou’s classic, rather than some half-hearted transfer of a shop-worn 16mm print.

But wait, it gets even better, LOL! Despite the howling dreadfulness of this DVD, in a way it sure got those endorphins engineering in my bloodstream last night! J The English subtitles were an absolute hoot! There were frequent misspellings all throughout the film (including “savant” for servant, “cate” for cat, “secrete” for secret, and “Forth” and “Fourth” used interchangeably) and there was even one unintentionally hilarious, knee-slapping moment where Songlian was speaking to Meishan on the roof of the estate and speaking of her thoughts of suicide, where the sub-title reads, “Don’t be so groovy. Look at me, I try to be happy!” LOL! I think it was meant to say “gloomy”, but anyway, that sure was a jocular jolt of amusement! (giggles) Also, at the very end of the film, the very last subtitle reads, “She has gone completely insane. Production Credit.” LOL! Also, there is an instance in the film where the Fourth Mistress is addressed as “Mister” in the subtitles, LOL!

I was just ruminating earlier today, “Oh ho ho, I should start a cult merchandise & paraphernalia line in honor of the “Raise The Red Lantern” DVD release, LOL, complete with T-shirts, coffee mugs, lunchboxes, key chains, mouse pads and ping-pong paddles featuring the picture frame with the sub-title, “Don’t be so gloomy! Look at me, I try to be happy!“ as well as limited-edition action figures, even “Jingwu Ma’s Shanxi Sensations”, featuring your culinary Asian favorites based from the film, including, you guessed it, steamed tofu with spinach and stir-fried bean sprouts, readymade in just five minutes from your home microwave! LOL! Well, if “Napoleon Dynamite” could get away with it, then why the heck not for “Raise The Red Lantern”? (giggles)

Worst…..transfer…..ever! So I beseech you, please, pretty please with Mee Krob on top, RENTAL THE VHS VERSION, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! (giggles) Should you choose to go DVD, it will be a decision you will eternally live to regret, hehehe!
Now that that’s out of the way……who wants pickled shanghai cactus? Henhao! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-06-27T16:01:00.000-07:00

Hoboken Special On The House!

Yeppity-yeppers, it's that time again! Let's shoot another poetry bubbly from the south to ring in this fine summer splashdown! And please be careful when you coast head-first on that Slip 'N Slide, I've had some unfortunate mat rashes, LOL! :)

***

Soda Jerk (Give Me Something Refreshing)
By: Noah Eaton
6/18/06

Hey, Mr. Soda Jerk,
what’s buzzin’, cuzzin?

(Ah, hey there, Gunther Toody,
and what can I get for you today?)

(Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray, Pops,
and keep ‘em comin’!)
.
.
.
Give me something refreshing,
give me something great,
give me something refreshing,
to quench me this hot summer day!
Give me something refreshing,
give me something with ice,
give me something refreshing,
that’ll leave me kickin’ on cloud nine!

Hey, Mr. Soda Jerk,
what’s you tale, nightingale,
fix me something,
that’ll make my taste buds wail!
(Illuminate me with your illuminations!)
Puts in time and a half with a belly laugh,
makes music shakin’ each carafe,
just rev up that fountain jet,
and use your imagination!

Give me something refreshing,
give me something great,
give me something refreshing,
to quench me this hot summer day!
Give me something refreshing,
give me something with ice,
give me something refreshing,
that’ll leave me kickin’ on cloud nine!

Watch him work that ice maker,
just like a high school paper maker,
he’s got more stamina,
than a thousand pledge takers!
Watch him work that ice maker,
just like a high school paper maker,
he’s got more stamina,
than a thousand pledge takers!)

Hey, Mr. Soda Jerk,
what’s you tale, nightingale,
fix me something,
that’ll make my taste buds wail!
(Go ahead and razz my berries!)
I’ve got a hot date,
at a quarter to eight,
and I’ve got a bent eight,
that’s got me made in the shade!
(Top this bash with a maraschino cherry!)

Give me something refreshing,
give me something great,
give me something refreshing,
to quench me this hot summer day!
Give me something refreshing,
give me something with ice,
give me something refreshing,
that’ll leave me kickin’ on cloud nine!

(Make it smooth and sturdy,
rich like Richie Rich,
sweet like sugarcane,
mild like Milo & Otis…)
.
.
.
Got any tonics,
that’ll send my tongue down the conga line,
how about a sample,
of Pink Love Potion #9,
or something to agitate the gravel,
make me a souped up goof,
maybe a longneck,
of Siberian sun ginseng brew,
in fact I’m feelin’ a bit outlandish,
can you make a brussel sprouts smoothie,
Ciscoe the TV gardener said if I eat ‘em,
I’ll be as handsome a stud as yours truly,
How about a Purple Yam malt,
or a Turkey & Gravy-flavored potation,
maybe a Kim-Chee infusion,
or a Wild Atlantic Salmon temptation?

(Let me show you how the Soda Jerk does it,
belly up to the bar!)

First, we’re gonna twist it, choke it like that,
twist it, choke it like this,
and then make it crackle out loud,
righto, we’re gonna twist it, choke it,
make it crackle out loud,
split one, shoot it yellow,
shoot one from the south.
We’re gonna twist it, choke it like that,
twist it, choke it like this,
and then make it crackle out loud,
righto, we’re gonna twist it, choke it,
make it crackle out loud,
split one, shoot it yellow,
shoot one from the south!

Watch him work that ice maker,
just like a high school paper maker,
he’s got more stamina,
than a thousand pledge takers!
Watch him work that ice maker,
just like a high school paper maker,
he’s got more stamina,
than a thousand pledge takers!)

(Good luck, kid,
I hope your date is a blast,
don’t forget your mirror warmer,
wow, that sure brings me back…

…how about my Hoboken Special for the road?)

Give me something refreshing,
give me something great,
give me something refreshing,
to quench me this hot summer day!
Give me something refreshing,
give me something with ice,
give me something refreshing,
that’ll leave me kickin’ on cloud nine!
.
.
.
(ding ding ding)
.
.
.
(Hey, Soda Jerk,
what’s the word from the bird?)

(Goin’ steady, buddy,
how ‘bout a Dusty Miller?)

(Thanks, Pops,
and keep ‘em comin’!)

***

***

Summer Always Answers Prayers Best
By: Noah Eaton
6/19/06

Today I walked along the boardwalk,
and I imagined you were here with me,
an hour before dawn kissed the summer sky,
checking out whatever seemed interesting,
you were like my maiden of the mist,
the starry surprise of your eyes made me swoon,
and right before I could feel your pristine kiss,
I’m left trying to preserve the glow of this honeymoon.

And I know,
I can feel,
your heart song momentarily,
and through all these winters,
I’ve found there’s an invincible summer,
chanting inside of me…

I believe summer always answers prayers best,
searching the seasons wildly on love’s quest,
there’s a feeling I have only fireflies can express,
when you leave nothing but tulip beds,
and golden threads in my head...

There’s something about the mystery of summer,
that makes you suffer but enjoy it immensely,
my heart beats thunderously chasing you around,
with sensitive eyes searching densely and intensely,
like a ladybug that lands on my shoulder,
you’re like a sweetest memory I’ve yet to understand,
fulfilling the promise of dozens of months past,
with the touch of your gentle hand...

And I know,
I can feel,
your heart song momentarily,
and through all these winters,
I’ve found there’s an invincible summer,
chanting inside of me...

I believe summer always answers prayers best,
searching the seasons wildly on love’s quest,
there’s a feeling I have only fireflies can express,
when you leave nothing but tulip beds,
and golden threads in my head...
.
.
.
.
.
.
And I know,
I can feel,
your heart song momentarily,
and through all these winters,
I’ve found you're an invincible summer,
chanting inside of me...

I believe summer always answers prayers best,
searching the seasons wildly on love’s quest,
there’s a feeling I have only fireflies can express,
when you leave nothing but tulip beds,
and golden threads in my head...

***

***

Alchemy Hour
By: Noah Eaton
6/15/06

*

Woahhhhhh, salty sister,
dawn patrol is beckonin’,
what’d you say we go shreddin’ the gnarl?

(Ahhhhhh, that’d be epic,
but,
all I got is this Woody Parsnip,
and I don’t want to look all Squarepants Spongekook!)

Awww shibby!
No worries, ya crippler chick,
today’s too coolaphonic to get chode burn!
Here, borrow my grom board,
I’m kinduva necter canvas commando myself!

(Really?
Wow, this is Gnarmax!)

Righteous,
let’s hit the fall line, beach bunny,
alchemy hour awaits...
.
.
.
.
.
I’ve gotten all proned out,
chasing the mare’s tail upon the glory trail,
I’m a fresh gale on the third rail,
that’s never ready to flail,
I’m a pastrami of a swami,
all soaked and I’m stoked,
nothin’ like an expression session,
to invoke that ancillary stroke…

I should have worn my rashie today,
cause I’m totally Burnt Reynolds,
the summer sun’s blazin’ white gold,
the Nectar of the Gods is drippin’ uncontrolled,
some say I possess some fourth power,
rippin’ lips in these rainbow showers,
and I tell my crew it’s all about attitude,
cuz this is a magic moment we call,
alchemy hour…
.
.
.
I behave like a stavewave,
engraved to the ragin’ riptide,
babelinis think I’m a hoot in my spring suit,
while quantum leapin’ the pipeline,
I’ve been over the falls,
I make them look notorious,
shreddin’ through Orbitsville,
into downtown Flushopolis.

I should have worn my rashie today,
cause I’m totally Burnt Reynolds,
the summer sun’s blazin’ white gold,
the Nectar of the Gods is drippin’ uncontrolled,
some say I possess some fourth power,
rippin’ lips in these rainbow showers,
and I tell my crew it’s all about attitude,
cuz this is a magic moment we call,
alchemy hour…
.
.
.
.
.
Come on in, lil’ dally,
forehand through this oceanic rift valley,
eskimo rollin’ and cajolin’,
through this tubular skittle alley,
the soul kiss of the solstice,
is my kind of sabbatical,
inside the pope’s living room,
born a church of the open sky fanatical.

I should have worn my rashie today,
cause I’m totally Burnt Reynolds,
the summer sun’s blazin’ white gold,
the Nectar of the Gods is drippin’ uncontrolled,
some say I possess some fourth power,
rippin’ lips in these rainbow showers,
and I tell my crew it’s all about attitude,
cuz this is a magic moment we call,
alchemy hour…
.
.
.
(Thanks a zipload,
that was haggard!)

Hey, ciara,
wanna head over to the Thursday Night Surf Club,
and catch some grub?

(Wow, dat’s da mamie, Gandelf!)

***

***

Cosmologicicle
By: Noah Eaton
5/23/06

Herschel Circinus is a space cowboy aerobatic,
a dreamer to the manner born, cream gravy idiomatic,
chooses not to see the world as monochromatic,
floating above the clouds a gospel sharp cinematic,
looks like everything’s in apple pie order,
penetrating the cosmos as a spaceship boarder,
bungee launching on course to Sadalachbia Stadium,
tanning in lunar hot springs till his cheeks gleam like palladium,
snowbird of space, silver-surfing footloose,
barrel rolling between the uplink and the abstruse,
having a delicate flair for some solar flare,
leisure wear made exclusive out of thin air,
space scout, may I have a readout,
riding shank’s mare can make you a devout,
rebounding from the black hole to the bean sprout,
hey, kid, what’d you got to lark about.

I know this universe is too diverse,
time too precious to waste and stickle,
so stick out your tongue,
and taste a dripping of this cosmologicicle.
I know its flavor keeps changing,
from each velvety trickle,
so stick out your tongue,
and taste a dripping of this cosmologicicle.

Namby-pamby Bambi’s off on a yellow rocket,
deep into the outer limits’ dry socket,
sweet surrender from the modus operandi,
this intergalactic inner-tube should come in handy,
howling like Serendipity Dog, fruit-batting like Metal Mickey,
snorkeling in the Orion Nebula where it’s always sticky,
hop aboard a Unicorpian to travel the red deserts of Mars,
fly to Dwingeloo to meet Pegasus Dwarve superstars.

I know this universe is too diverse,
time too precious to waste and stickle,
so stick out your tongue,
and taste a dripping of this cosmologicicle.
I know its flavor keeps changing,
from each velvety trickle,
so stick out your tongue,
and taste a dripping of this cosmologicicle.

Have a taste of Centauri Inari,
with a splash of Mu Cephei’s Red Dwarf Tamari,
follow me into the Tarantula Nebula on an epic safari,
park in the Crab Nebula for some of Yesh Yesh Winks’s calamari,
peddling our telescopomobiles by the solar cycle,
and may I remind you not to forget to solar recycle,
from where we’ve been, there’s no final destination,
all you believe is destined not to be simulation.

I know this universe is too diverse,
time too precious to waste and stickle,
so stick out your tongue,
and taste a dripping of this cosmologicicle.
I know its flavor keeps changing,
from each velvety trickle,
so stick out your tongue,
and taste a dripping of this cosmologicicle...

Hang on if you wanna tag along...

***

***

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-06-26T14:10:00.000-07:00

Feelings, Finesse, Fear & Festivity

It’s that time of year again...that time we’re reminded that Charlie Parker is as right as ever when he said, “Music is your own experience, your own thoughts, your wisdom. If you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn. They teach you there's a boundary line to music. But, man, there's no boundary line to art.” That time of year where when most pop listeners are taking their aspirin, many blues Magoos are out enjoying the vitamins of the blues. That time of year where we understand, ever more than we usually admit, that as Peter Tork said, “The blues isn't about the blues, it's about we have all had the blues and we are all in this together.” and we find ourselves brought back into the fold of music’s purest functionality.

Safeway Waterfront Blues Festival Official Site

You got it! Next Friday, the 2006 Safeway Waterfront Blues Festival kicks off at Tom McCall Waterfront Park in the heart of the City of Roses and my home sweet home that is Portland, Oregon, and I will be returning to share on-site remote anchoring duties with other fellow KBOO Community Radio volunteers to bring thousands of listeners across Oregon and Southwestern Washington the pure American voice of the crossroads. And you can catch me live on the airwaves from the festival next Saturday from 3:00-7:00 P.M Pacific Standard Time, joined with fellow KBOO volunteer Julie Sabatier, who actually is the super-cool friend who helped get me started in the KBOO News & Public Affairs Department in April of last year when she shared temporary PM News & Public Affairs Director duties with Jamie Heim. I also encourage y’all to check out her wonderful blog, “The Littlest Blog”. She has embraced the heart of the community, which her frequent reflections, production of her new monthly KBOO program “DIY (Do It Yourself)” and freelance writing from Free Speech Radio News to local newspapers proves out loud. I believe Julie understands more than most people what Robert McAfee Brown meant when he said, “Taking community seriously not only gives us the companionship we need, it also relieves us of the notion that we are indispensable.” Her will and altruism are indispensable, and I strongly believe she’s destined for many great things, and while my politics in particular are not quite like hers, I absolutely respect she stands for what she believes in and am glad she’ll be sharing on-site anchoring duties, yay! :)

I’ll go ahead and admit that blues music isn’t exactly among my top five favorite genres of music actually, LOL, as I guess blues music isn’t exactly “endorphiny” and once you listen to it for a while it can get a little monotonous. Nonetheless, I absolutely respect the culture behind blues, jazz and the roots of rock and roll, for I believe it’s there where some of the purest, authentic American soul can be found, it’s the voice that speaks of the deepest struggles, both socially and with everyday emotions and matters at hand, and its call and response can be traced back to a darker past where plantation workers communicated through field holler, some of the earliest song and communication in African Diaspora, as well as through work calls, chanted by peddlers in cities everywhere. What I think many often overlook or miss about blues music these days is that the call and response is still there always, it’s just the response doesn’t come from someone else, the response comes from the singer him/herself. Where W.B DuBois and Langston Hughes was for literature, Booker T. Washington was for blues music, for he believed that the individual determines his/her own destiny, thus is how blues music has become personified as it is to this day. Albert Collins said, “Simple music is the hardest to play and blues is simple music.” That’s why I have a profound respect for the musical culture even while I don’t consider myself a huge fan of the musical genre; you just have to respect these many artists for forging their destinies, speaking it as it is, and it’s in doing just that where, as Ralph Ellison said, it becomes an “art of ambiguity, an assertion of the irrepressibly human over all circumstances, whether created by others or by one's own human failing.”

This year’s festival is going to be incredibly special, because as y’all may be well aware, this is the first Waterfront Blues Festival since the tragedy that was Hurricane Katrina last year, which in some ways will forever change New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, though the culture and spirit I’m convinced will continue living on through thick and thin. And so this year’s festival is going to have a very special tribute theme to both New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, with this being the largest line-up of Gulf Coast artists outside of New Orleans’ own Jazz & Heritage Festival nation-wide. The opening night is going to be kicked off by Dr. John (a.k.a “The Night Tripper”) a killer New Orleans pianist and singer who can pack blues, boogie-woogie and rock and roll all into one. His name even came from a 19th century voodoo summoner, so you can imagine exactly how psychedelic just five minutes with him on stage can be. And just for kicks, he just can’t resist providing jingle vocals to many Popeyes Chicken commericals, LOL! Great AIEEYAH-poppin’ flavor even Little Nicky enjoys! J And the closing night, the 4th of July, will be hosted by Irma Thomas, the “Soul Queen of New Orleans”, who has been performing soul and rhythm & blues music for over four decades now in New Orleans and beyond.

In addition, though the Safeway Waterfront Blues Festival has always well-incorporated Zydeco and other blues-based sounds that originated in the heart of the Louisiana bayous and such, this festival is going to feature much more musicians from New Orleans and the Gulf Coast on all four stages and eight Blues Cruises, including Bo Dollis & The Wild Magnolias, Buckwheat Zydeco, The Bluerunners, Marva Wright, the Rebirth Brass Band, and so many more. What many of these artists have in common is that they experienced loss and heartache through and in the aftermath of Hurricanes Katrina & Rita, where the waters of Lake Pontchartrain flooded the neighborhoods where many of these musicians have lived much of their lives, including those of Phil Frazer of the Rebirth Brass Band, who lost the roof of his house and both his cars, while the band’s drummers lost virtually everything, and Irva Thomas, who lost her home and her acclaimed New Orleans club, “The Lion’s Den”. And so indeed the Hurricane Katrina disaster touched every one of us in many ways, but most of us will never even begin to understand or relate to exactly how much their community endured physically and emotionally, and their presence at this year’s Waterfront Blues Festival will both generate a much greater sense of relational empathy, as well as fuel an incandescent sense of cultural pride and musical spirit that you can only find stronger back in The Crescent City itself.

I can already feel deep down this will be a festival I will never forget, and with an average as many as 120,000 blues enthusiasts packing Tom McCall Waterfront Park at a single time last year, my bet is it’ll easily be far more packed this year with a renewed sense of appreciation coming from millions of Americans following Hurricanes Katrina & Rita toward exactly how special the Gulf culture is, and thousands more will seek a sentimental experience this summer and travel straight here to the City of Roses.

But I don’t only enjoy taking part in the Waterfront Blues Festival to give to KBOO, listen to stunning live music or even soak up that bright-lemon Vitamin D under clouds of dragonflies. I’m also proud to take part in this festival because it also happens to be the largest annual benefit event for the Oregon Food Bank, a statewide network of 894 hunger relief agencies serving Oregon and Clark County, Washington, helping recover food from farms, manufacturers, wholesalers, retailers, individuals and government source, and distributing it to twenty regional food banks, sixteen of which are independent, which helps feed hundreds of Oregonians, especially children, and hopes to “eliminate the root causes of hunger through advocacy and public education.” Hunger is a scary thing, for many health studies have shown that health status of youngsters from impoverished homes experiencing hunger and food insecurity is much worse than for non-deprived children, who are known to get sick more often, have much higher rates of hospitalizations, ear infections and huge iron deficiencies, thus childhood hunger and malnutrition can cause irreversible, critical health problems later in life for any child. In fact, here in Oregon, we’re ranked as one of the hungriest states in the nation, and one in five people even ate meals from an emergency food box at least once last year, most of which were children, senior citizens on fixed incomes, people who are disabled and people who work hard at low-paying jobs.

The Waterfront Blues Festival is the greatest opportunity yearly for the Oregon Food Bank (ranked a four-star charity service by Charity Navigator) to collect donations and food to nourish these thousands living and coping with hunger. In fact, last year, blues fans donated more than $348,000 and gave more than 107,000 pounds of food to support their benevolent cause. And thanks to each showing of magnanimity, each month, Oregon Food Bank Network’s 362 food pantries distributes emergency food boxes to an estimated 194,000 people -- 38 percent of whom are children --in Oregon and Clark County, Washington. You know, Mahalia Jackson said, “Anybody singing the blues is in a deep pit yelling for help.” That’s exactly where many of these children and families are, and so let’s let their prayers be answered!

So if you’d like to enjoy some vibrant live music and also give yourself a hug knowing you’ve done something very good for the world, come on by from Friday, June 30 through Tuesday, July 4. The admission is most generous, with a suggested donation of $8 per person plus two cans of non-perishable food. Hold that thought for a moment here. $8 per person, for a diverse, day-long parade featuring many of over 150 shows. I find that easily the best $8 you will spend this entire year, guaranteed, something to satisfy your soul as well as the hearts of many who crucially need that nutrition in their lives.

Last year was my first year taking part in this exciting event with KBOO, and I certainly hope this becomes a tradition for me. I immersed myself to lots of great artists last year, from Buddy Guy to Mavis Staples to Shemekia Copeland, as well as acquainting myself to new talents I was previously unfamiliar with, my favorite being Jackie Greene. I came along two days of the festival last year, making the suggested donations and hauling along 25 cans of food. In all honesty, I kind of felt like a celebrity last year simply by being there. Every 45 minutes or so I’d sit there under the KBOO tent with my headphones on, announcing the end of a featured performance, providing commentary about the next featured act, the Oregon Food Bank, the festival itself and the occasional KBOO underwriting message, and then during each featured performance, I had the complete freedom to wander around the venue, standing backstage behind the curtain watching featured musicians perform just inches away from me like Jackie Greene, or place the Sponsor tag around my neck so I could have access to the volunteers deck, where they had a fine lunch and dinner buffet table arranged, as well as Coleman coolers full of icy cool sodas and Glauceau Vitamin Water. It was so hot you could fry an egg on the sidewalk last year during the festival (in fact we’ve been having a heat wave this entire weekend here, reaching up to 100 degrees yesterday) and they had these suntan lotion packets available which I used liberally, and I’d frequently head over to the volunteers deck for dragon fruit-flavored Vitamin Water (Formula 50 or citrus if not available) and paper bowls full of Chex Mix. The kind folks of Chipotle even offered me a complimentary burrito the first evening I volunteered, and boy was that satisfying! Sure brought me back to my initial home state of Colorado and the many days my hero Philippe Ernewein first got me into the Chipotle craze! :) And finally, I got a complimentary 2005 Waterfront Blues Festival T-shirt for helping out, which I still frequently don to this day! :)

Stream Live: KBOO Community Radio

So you can catch me live on the airwaves from Tom McCall Waterfront Park this Saturday from 3:00-7:00 P.M Pacific Standard Time (10:00 P.M Eastern Standard Time for my friends on the East Coast) at the Safeway Waterfront Blues Festival by clicking on the link above, where you can stream KBOO Community Radio anywhere in the world from your home computer. Or, if you are around the Portland area, you can tune in at 90.7 FM on your FM dial to KBOO, where we'll be broadcasting featured live coverage of the Waterfront Blues Festival all five days of the festival! :)

They say there’s ten rules for getting rid of the blues; go out and do something for someone else, then repeat it nine times. And as Dan Castellaneta of “The Simpsons” says, “Go ahead and play the blues if it’ll make you happy!” where there’ll certainly be plenty of that to go around all throughout the 4th of July weekend here! :)

Love,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-05-22T12:19:00.000-07:00

Kim-Chee In The Grand Prix

Just as I suspected.....the truth has come out! This day, a new era dawns, what has long been treated as an also-ran will become recognized as the ten-strike white knight of our times.

Kimchee (Korean for "vegetables soaked in salt water"), the "chicken soup of Korea", is becoming the subject of serious research, following years of assurance by Koreans that this hunky bunch of pungent fermented cabbage with liberal quantities of hot chile pepper really does have fanciful, mystical potencies that ward off disease, long denied as an old wive's tale blended in with a bunch of mooshoo pork!

Ahhhhhh, still all dyed-in-the-wool, ehhhhh? Perhaps it'll intrigue you to know that last month at the Korea Atomic Energy Research Institute, South Korean scientists unfurled a new kimchi especially designed for astronauts to prevent them from getting constipated in space. Another study at Ewha Woman's University in Seoul reported that kimchi lowered the stress levels of caged mice by 30%. Yet another study at the Kimchi Research Institute in Busan has concluded that hairless mice fed kimchi were reported to develop fewer wrinkles, where, with a government grant of $500,000, the institute is developing all kinds of new products, from a special anti-aging kimchi that will be marketed later this year, as well as anti-cancer and anti-obesity kimchi.

The history of this phenomenon of cultural pride is said to date back as many as 1,300 years to the 7th century, when Jang Hee Yun recounts the legendary origins of kimchi in this way:

"A poor farmer carried several old heads of cabbage to the sea to wash and freshen them. He noticed that these rather meager heads seemed to grow bulkier after sitting in the salty water, and he decided he was onto something great. If a short washing in sea water made them a little heavier wouldn't an overnight soaking make them a lot heavier? His puny cabbages would become hearty and he would have more food for himself and his family. He left the cabbages to soak and returned expectantly the next morning, only to find that the pot he had left them in was half empty. He swore revenge on the cruel thief, not realizing that it was the salt in the water--and not a criminal--that had brought about the change in the contents of the pot. Perhaps driven by despair, the farmer tore off a leaf from the wilted cabbage heads and popped it in his mouth. Yummmmm! Kimchi was born, but without garlic or red peppers."

Many scholars believe that kimchi derived from Chinese pickles, brought into Korea during the Shilla (654-935 C.E) and Korea (918-1392 C.E) dynasties. Koreans then modified that recipe to suit their own quirky taste buds. However, it wasn't until the 16th century when the signature red pepper found its way into the recipe, when Portuguese traders from Japan foudn their way to Korea and spread the chili pepper to and fro. 1549 is the earliest documented year when the chili pepper found its way into Japan, and then Korea, yet the first documented use of red pepper in kimchee is cited in 1766. Chinese cabbage completed the recipe we know and love by the 19th century, and...voila...kim chee is on the Grand Prix! :)

Koreans sure take their kimchee seriously, just as I do! In fact, the Kimchi Field Museum in Seoul holds more than 2,000 books about kimchi and thousands more dissertations, including "A Kinetic Model for Lactic Acid Production in Kimchi". An average of 300 new theses are added each and every year there, and has documented a total of 187 different types of kimchee, including 62 made with radish, 25 types of baechu kimchee (Korean cabbage kimchee), 10 made with cucumber, and 21 made out of other vegetables. Kimchi varies by region, where in the colder north they use little salt and in the warmer south they use lots of salt. Kimchee also varies by season in the forms of "four-season kimchee" and "kimjang kimchee" (kimchee for winter) where in the spring, you get Nabak kimchee (watery radish kimchee), in the summer young radish kimchee and cucumber kimchee to ease the hot weather, ponytail kimchee and sesame leaf kimchi in the autumn, and more flavorful, uncut types of kimchee in the winter. If Vivaldi had a guilty pleasure, it all but certainly had to be kimchee methinks! :)

Holy Bolgogi! The dissenters have suddenly become mum in light of these revelations, who have claimed that consumption of radish kimchee have actually increased the risk of gastric cancer, such as one published June 2005 in the Beijing-based World Journal of Gastroenterology titled "Kimchi and Soybean Pastes Are Risk Factors of Gastric Cancer." (Rates of gastric cancer among Koreans and Japanese are 10 times higher than in the United States) who insist that kimchee is indeed a healthy food, but excessive consumption of it generates its own risks. In other words, too much of a good thing IS a good thing, but too much of a good thing can be its own kind of carcinogen! LOL!

Despite the mild critiques, U.S. magazine Health listed kimchi in its March issue as one of the world's five most healthful foods (Yogurt, olive oil, lentils and soy made the rest of the list) What may explain its popularity among health food advocates is that kimchi contains high levels of lactic acid bacteria that helps in digestion and, according to some researchers, boosts the immune system. As if that isn't enough, the vegetables in kimchee contain outstanding sources of vitamin C and antioxidants, which protect cells from carcinogens.

Moreover, kimchee in recent years has ignited a halo effect among medical science students. In East Asia, the low number of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) cases in Korea has often been attributed to the Korean habit of eating large quantities of kimchi (though no definitive link between kimchi consumption and SARS resistance has yet been scientifically established) There is even some evidence that suggests kimchi can be used to treat avian influenza in birds, as scientists at Seoul National University say they fed samples of kimchi to 13 infected chickens - and a week later 11 of them began recovering. Its effects on humans have yet to be studied.

Forget beginning to argue that kimchee is the best thing since sliced bread in Korea; Koreans simply can't go anywhere without it! :) South Koreans are said to consume 77 pounds of it per capita annually, many even eating it with every single meal, they even introduced a new line of air conditioners in March that have an enzyme that comes from kimchee in the filters. Today your Glade Air Fresheners, tomorrow the Russian spacecraft Soyuz.....and the WORLD! :)

Whether you like it baechu, kkactugi, chonggak, dongchimi, paek, nabak, possam, kodleppegi, oi, pa.....or double-glazed in chocolate syrup, LOL, kimchee is here to stay, oh la la! Take me down to Pyung Yang Myundak, I'm having another nerdgasm, ha ha ha! :) Wan Shyang Hau!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-05-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

Roto Rooters & Prune Whipped Pirate Ships

Here's some new poems, some absolutely new and some recent, to get you in the mood for the summer vacation prelude, yay! :) Don't forget to intone that Coppertone, don't want to be ol' Burnt Reynolds, no sir! :)

*

Promiscuous Planet
By: Noah Eaton
5/18/06

Betty Bajawaller’s,
got a case of the vapors,
on a hot dog budget,
with a coffee brick to taper,
went all kookabarn,
on a vaycay in Huahine, Tahiti,
laybacking peace treaties,
with the aquamarine graffiti.
She knew if everything’s under control,
she’s going way too slow,
she gave a charity throw of electric glow,
living with her toes on the nose.

Little Sally Saucer,
is there sitting in the water,
playing sharks and minnows,
with the river otters,
hailed a round trip,
around the edge of the folding lip,
a swivel-pinned mutton head,
on a prune whipped pirate ship.
She chased the bergwind,
swiftly down the frothy fall line,
re-alligning the high life…

Sapphire throne, impart your grateful heart,
a burning cathedral culinary art,
perfection of thought sheltered by carnauba palms,
flinching nourished with invincible balm…

Killer Dana’s,
in her zucchini bikini,
tanning on the hood,
of her yellow Lamborghini,
concierge of supernatural affairs,
licking a slab of miele biscotti,
migrates the years away,
between California and Kiribati.
She straddles the equator,
with a liquid cool aesthetic,
athletically unapologetic.

Sapphire throne, impart your grateful heart,
a burning cathedral culinary art,
perfection of thought sheltered by carnauba palms,
flinching nourished with invincible balm…

Alien love child,
hold your hands out as over a flame,
open to the sunshine,
the windows of all your veins,
fire in the sky,
may your phoenix lullaby flow,
from my toes to the plateau…

Promiscuous planet,
smolder the wide world over,
from the funny bone,
and beyond the picnic shoulder,
atchi katchi liberatchi,
take a peach, take a plum,
hey, go on, and take a piece
of cherry bubble gum.
Let’s make the starship blitz,
to the Rigil Kentaurus Ritz,
and Taos Hum like the Pleidans...

...surfing the universe like dreamy speed demons...

Sapphire throne, impart your grateful heart,
a burning cathedral culinary art,
perfection of thought sheltered by carnauba palms,
flinching nourished with invincible balm…
Sapphire throne, impart your grateful heart,
a burning cathedral culinary art,
perfection of thought sheltered by carnauba palms,
flinching nourished with invincible balm…

*

*

Holographic Lipstick
By: Noah Eaton
5/20/06

Subconscious sunburns,
discharging lemon Slush Puppie iridescence,
touches up her whimsical dimples,
where final fantasies are in attendance,
she’s a cookie tooth sleuth,
speckled with banana chip freckles,
bathing secret solstices away in Miriam’s Well,
with singing seahorses and the laughing gull.

Cotton candy unicorn getaways,
hightailing between soft-boiled wonderlands,
stardust spills from each sebaceous gland,
when she is queen of her motherland,
canary princes and flowering quinces,
loiter in her childlike wildlife,
she says the Blue Fairy has a sapphire castle,
in the southern pinwheel galaxy,
wants to fly there on the back of a Chinese dragon kite.

Kissing the sun,
with holographic lipstick,
she makes my heart frog kick,
double quick,
she’s a maid of the water’s daughter,
she’s the nymph of the Nixies,
she’s my itty-bitty,
dixie pixie gypsy…

Born to be the vixen of the Vardogls,
landing triple axels when the moon is full,
her altruism can inspire peace even within the Unseelie Court,
the valedictorian of her April Fools’ Choir School,
she’s a gossamer connoisseur of the Pacific silver firs,
giving the valleys a good dose of good karma,
stepping into the platter of this Fair Lady,
to taste of her lips poppy oil and sugar in the raw…

Kissing the sun,
with holographic lipstick,
she makes my heart frog kick,
double quick,
she’s a maid of the water’s daughter,
she’s the nymph of the Nixies,
she’s my itty-bitty,
dixie pixie gypsy…

Gypsy butterfly,
slowly and sweetly,
pirouette on my tongue,
indiscreetly, completely,
and I’ll rest your blithesome body,
upon my brightest magnellanic cloud,
glass blowing cocoa plum kingdoms,
having our romantic imaginations think out loud.

Kissing the sun,
with holographic lipstick,
she makes my heart frog kick,
double quick,
she’s a maid of the water’s daughter,
she’s the nymph of the Nixies,
she’s my itty-bitty,
dixie pixie gypsy...

...with holographic lipstick...

...holographic lipstick...

...holographic lipstick...

...holographic lipstick...
.
.
.

*

*

Should I Bring My Clarinet? (I Could Practice In The Car)
By: Noah Eaton
3/31/06

*

...who's that,
playing with the drum machine?

(I don't know)

*

Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)
Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)

Blowing my piccolo to altissimo,
dropping the scone on the bishop’s throne.

Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)
Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)

Throwing from my long bow of cocobolo,
a frenzied Italian marching band soul.

Pitch me an acai bowl,
and a tray of wasabi peanuts,
and I shall foot patrol with the oboe,
swoon with the bassoons lickety cut,
the trumpeter exposes the theme,
and my mission is its embroidering,
so before you head to the auditor,
buy me a six-case of Piranha Outrageous energy drink.

Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)
Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)

Making summer haw of Artie Shaw,
shrieking like a Dixieland macaw.

Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)
Should I bring my clarinet?
(I could practice in the car)

Benny Goodman must be my conjoined twin,
Woody Herman must be my patrilineal kin.

Ever since my Tamagotchi lost its batteries,
and is left parched of digital thirst,
I’ve been opening these emotional floodgates,
letting my deepest feelings emerge,
bouncing on the backseat like a Mexican jumping bead,
with a shoebox of interjections interspersed,
so while you’re at the rotary,
I’ll be submersed in bebop’s jaw droppin’ verse...

This clarinet is like a clarinet to me
(And that’s all that truly matters)
This clarinet is like a clarinet to me
(I could cook it up in fritter batter)
This clarinet is like a clarinet to me
(I don’t wanna play spin the platter)
This clarinet is like a clarinet to me
(Your geologist buddy is quite a chatter)

*

...quit playing with the drum machine.

(Sorry...

...you gotta admit it's infectious!)

*

*

Concentrate (Be The Dotted Line)
By: Noah Eaton
3/15/06

I got my ValPak coupon booklet,
I’m examining it thoroughly,
looking for a clipping valid,
for one free home delivery of Sierra Springs.
I see a $30 discount,
off Roto Rooter draining and plumbing,
and The Fast Frame has an offer on the table,
for $40 off any custom framing,

Now comes the tricky part,
hope this won’t disrupt my flow chart,
simply clipping for a la carte,
could become an eternal struggle.

I must concentrate
(I must interrelate)
Become the dotted line
(Let the line and you intertwine)
Cut straight between the line
(It’s a doctrine I consign)
Become the dotted line
(Become the line and you‘ll be fine)

I love supporting Box Tops for Education,
I collect them in groups of fifty,
when using scissors I wear magnifying goggles,
and a headlight to keep Sunday paper spiffy,
if I was better acquainted with ethnic cuisine,
I’d peruse and prune the Wednesday food section in a jiffy,
but just the thought of nyotaimori,
gives me cold sweats and involuntary trembling.

I cried myself to sleep on my Davenport,
when my wrist shook and cut athwart,
one worth $100 off any hardwood floor,
alas, that golden ticket’s glory broke short.

I must concentrate
(I must interrelate)
Become the dotted line
(Let the line and you intertwine)
Cut straight between the line
(It’s a doctrine I consign)
Become the dotted line
(Become the line and you‘ll be fine)

If I worked on a weekly salary,
I’d rush down to Camino Rug Gallery,
and redeem free pick-up and delivery,
but I’m just a busy detective burning away calories,
but I’m a dapper scamper, suave on rebates,
for full-service dry cleaning from Merry Maids,
from the Golden State to my hot plate,
consider my triple play and hang-tag savvy au fait.

I must concentrate
(I must interrelate)
Become the dotted line
(Let the line and you intertwine)
Cut straight between the line
(It’s a doctrine I consign)
Become the dotted line
(Become the line and you‘ll be fine)
.
.
.
.
.
Ohhhh...
.
ohhhh geez...
.
...I just snipped this one,
good for a free Swiffer,
inward from the line,
at an eight degree acute angle...
.
...oh, the horror,
the horror...
.
.
.

*

*

Ebenezer Caesar, Expert Parking Meter Reader & Carpet Beater
By: Noah Eaton
2/25/06

(Say, you remember our good buddy Ebenezer, right,
y’know, that lil’ teaser that lived in his freezer?
Well, I gather you’re curious how he’s been since,
so here’s a sequel that’ll warm up each square meter...)

In a well-mannered way,
he moved into a yurt on Biscayne Bay,
developing a wicked game of armadillo croquet,
mopping the green at the Chokoloskee Invitational.
He’s let his upright freezer salt away,
stays up til four indulged in single crochet,
treats Craft Corner Deathmatch like a second grade field day,
or drama queen improvisational.
Loves an afternoon river raft ride on his cafeteria tray,
aspiring to upgrade to a manta ray cabriolet,
and make it to Narragansett Bay by the break of day,
for the 117th annual shadow play congregational.

Presenting a whole new Ebenezer Caesar,
did I mention he’s a flirtatious parking meter reader,
he balances two paid jobs as a Polyneux Elementary intercom reader,
and your friendly neighborhood carpet beater,
he can be quite quirky, quite the lotus eater,
but he has more warmth than a kerosene heater,
raise that blue peter,
in honor of a newly-improved Ebenezer Caesar.

He’s made a couple close friends,
that live in a gulch buried in a magnolia bend,
they’re as tight as a frozen fisherman’s bend,
ah yes, his life’s real kosher.
One by the name of Cuddly Studley Dudley,
who founded a convention show on battling dust bunnies,
thus piqued Ebenezer’s interest in this easy money,
with a lust for life like an oven stuffer roaster.
Then there’s Pahayokee Phil,
lanky with a nose like a crane’s bill,
who customized a space station from a cider mill,
hunting for extraterrestrial roller-coasters.

Presenting a whole new Ebenezer Caesar,
did I mention he’s a flirtatious parking meter reader,
he balances two paid jobs as a Polyneux Elementary intercom reader,
and your friendly neighborhood carpet beater.
He can be quite quirky, quite the lotus eater,
but he has more warmth than a kerosene heater,
raise that blue peter,
in honor of a newly-improved Ebenezer Caesar.

Nails each quintuple lutz in lilypad figure skating,
something about his nimbleness is reinstating,
with him around there’s never any muckraking…

Presenting a whole new Ebenezer Caesar,
did I mention he’s a flirtatious parking meter reader,
he balances two paid jobs as a Polyneux Elementary intercom reader,
and your friendly neighborhood carpet beater.
He can be quite quirky, quite the lotus eater,
but he has more warmth than a kerosene heater,
raise that blue peter,
in honor of a newly-improved Ebenezer Caesar.

He beats that eyebrow tweezer by and large,
forget the Groove Jet’s cover charge,
send all your fond regards,
to our friend of former Frigidaire residence.

Presenting a whole new Ebenezer Caesar,
did I mention he’s a flirtatious parking meter reader,
he balances two paid jobs as a Polyneux Elementary intercom reader,
and your friendly neighborhood carpet beater.
He can be quite quirky, quite the lotus eater,
but he has more warmth than a kerosene heater,
raise that blue peter,
in honor of a newly-improved Ebenezer Caesar.

(Did I mention he’s dating the flying purple people eater,
hee hee hee,
he’s quite the zebra cake,
ah-ha ha ha ha ha!)

*

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-05-14T13:03:00.000-07:00

Holding To The Prayers Of Our Mothers

There is a Jewish proverb which reads, “God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers.” Beyond this Mother’s Day alone, I always love to hug my mother before I go to bed, and if indeed I had a single flower for every time I think and celebrate her, my sauntering in my garden would be endless and vibrant, for mothers truly are the glorious gardeners of the world. Through my mother I have inherited so much I value wholeheartedly, including my hair color, smaller hands and feet, cheeks, and certainly those bubbly, sassy giggles! (giggles) Yep, my mother is quite the quintessential Libra (born October 15th) and Libras indeed are charming, harmonious individuals who are most sensitive to the needs of others and often have a naturally psychic ability to understand the emotional needs of their loved ones and determined to fulfill them through their deep-welled optimism. Often you may hear the saying, "They always make you feel better for having been with them." and Libras are exactly the kind of people that saying is centered around. I believe it’s no accident why Libra is the only sign in the zodiac that is characterized by an inanimate object, the scales, because ever so many desire to seek this sort of synchronicity, to cooperate and compromise from conflict, and in having a friendship with any Libran, you’ll feel empathy and understanding that is literally unmatched, for Libras are that very balance that they continually seek in themselves and their lives. Of course Libras have a tendency to gossip a lot, but that’s all good! (giggles) So there is indeed a little Libra in all of us I believe, and I believe it’s through my mother that I’ve become a Scorpio who aspires to fuse my deep emotions and passions into seeking that conviviality, to be the Dove of Peace kind of Scorpio.

Indeed, often I believe many of us overlook the true origin of this day of hallmark importance. I absolutely believe it’s super-cool to give flowers and bake that annual red velvet Tuppakaka on this day. But the genuine birth of this holiday is based in 1870 America, when social activist Julia Ward Howe, a prominent American abolitionist, poet and pacifist, wrote the Mother’s Day Proclamation in a call for peace and disarmament. Her efforts were inspired most of all by community activist Anna Reeves Jarvis, who as early as 1858 organized Mothers' Works Days in West Virginia, with the primary goal of improving sanitation in Appalachian communities, where during the Civil War, Jarvis inspired women to go and care for the wounded in war, and called for men as well to bury the hatchets and peacefully settle their differences. And, through her brave spirit, she made her proclamation known to the public, especially in 1872, when she called for an annual Mother’s Day for Peace:

*

“Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts,
whether our baptism be that of water or of fears!

Say firmly: "We will not have great questions decided by
irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking
with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be
taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach
them of charity, mercy and patience.

We women of one country will be too tender of those of another
country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From
the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says "Disarm, Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance
of justice."

Blood does not wipe our dishonor nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons
of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a
great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women,
to bewail and commemorate the dead.

Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as to the
means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each
bearing after their own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a
general congress of women without limit of nationality may be
appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient and at
the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the
alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement
of international questions, the great and general interests of
peace."

Julia Ward Howe
Boston
1870

*

Howe also wrote, “Our husbands shall not come to us reeking with carnage... Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of
those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs". Her message inspired and reached many more Americans, and for thirty years after her public vision was shared, many women followed her in many noble causes, including calling for an end to lynching once and for all, to end slavery, better children’s care and public health, welfare assistance to the poor, and indeed held faith true to heart that America could become as civilized as ever in realizing their vision to care for the casualties of our dear nation, that indeed motherhood is a gentle yet empowering force that gardens the fullest promise of America and the justice and liberty it indoctrinates.

Sadly, as with many of the holidays in which we cherish dearly, Mother’s Day has become entangled in consumer culture in modern times, and ever too much now have women become re-defined as consumers to the family, as have the visions that made this day possible been ignored. Indeed flowers can bring a smile to any woman’s heart, but there are millions of women worldwide who still need and lack access to basic, essential qualities to life including health care, living wages and child care for their children. It’s in the integrity, the intuitiveness beating deep in the hearts of Howe and her believers, that can still make this munificent dream most possible. My optimism is most bright in that I absolutely believe voices of this generation are continuing to pass Howe’s tenderhearted torch forward, for as Albert Schweitzer said, “In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” It’s not just mothers either who are doing so, it’s many men as well, for as my dear poet friend Sharon (Mysteria) says, Happy Mother’s Day is for “all those that "Mother", including caregivers, pet lovers, and single dads out there.”

In other parts of the world, Mother’s Day takes on other meanings and are held on different days. For instance, in the United Kingdom, Mother’s Day is also known as “Mothering Sunday”, and is celebrated on the fourth Sunday of Lent, often believed to have originated from the Christian practice of visiting ones mother church every year, in that families would be reunited on this day, and it’s even widely believed that young apprentices and young women in servitude were released by their masters on this weekend so that they could go and visit their families.

Indeed, as y’all can tell following along with my Serotonin Sandbox, I believe there is no thing more polarizing and poisonous than politics in our world, thus that’s why I refuse to talk about politics as much as possible and wish to harness an alternative blog atmosphere here that centers around the harmony, altruism and laughter that will always continue to tintinnabulate as we find our way through the adversities thick and thin. However, I also believe that war is the deadliest force, always driven by some political influence, that tears families, environments and hearts apart, thus occasionally I believe it’s in my true consciousness as a citizen, a human being and, truly, as a son to God’s universal family and sibling to Earth‘s global family, to speak of these issues here in a most diplomatic and non-partisan, yet serious and truthful manner. I believe everything about the ongoing war in Iraq is morally wrong and as with any war, it will always be a lose-lose situation for mankind, and further de-harmonizes cultures and peoples far and wide. I also believe it’s through the imagination and intuition of “gardeners” like Lowe that we can find redress to the humanitarian crisis in Sudan, among other situations facing our global community today.

I believe I obtained my deep innate sense of justice through my mother, much of this sort of spiritual activist blood was transmitted deep from her aorta. And for that I am most thankful in that I’ve become a far more better, compassionate, empathetic individual through her unconditional belief in universal liberty. And that, to me, is motherhood in its most purest form.

A Chinese proverb reads, “There is only one pretty child in the world, and every mother has it.” Indeed, our mothers all are children themselves, and it is through being reminded of this that we must celebrate our mothers beyond this day alone, for their mission is constant and spans far beyond a year’s cycle, even the cycle of a generation or a lifetime. So reach out, and give your mother a teddy bear hug, and just for good measure, give her a hug every time you visit her. (smiles)

“A man loves his sweetheart the most, his wife the best, but his mother the longest.”

Irish Proverb

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-05-13T16:00:00.000-07:00

"Check. Check 1. Sibilance. Sibilance. Check. Check 2. Sibilance. Sibilance."

*

“The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part...”

*

Doo doo doo….doo doo doo doo doo…ohhhhh, hey there, I didn’t see you come in! LOL! While the scientific community is admirably engaged hook, line and sinker in cracking the worldwide dilemma of global warming, finding a cure to all cancer and perfecting stem cell research in the greatest hopes of curing a wide range of human disorders including ruptured spinal cords, cerebral palsy and Parkinson’s disease, one scientist has stepped into the cultural forefront to ponder “Rarely is the question asked, ‘Why do bands keep audiences waiting?’”

Richard Witts, a writer on music and society, a teacher at Goldsmiths’ College of the University of London, the University of Surrey and the University of Sussex, a regular personality on BBC radio and television, and a lifelong versatile musician from the Grimsby & District Symphony Orchestra to post-punk outfit The Passage, addresses this very question in his latest study, "I'm Waiting for the Band: Protraction and Provocation at Rock Concerts." which was published in Cambridge University's international academic journal Popular Music.

In extensive research and interviewing, he suggests that indeed equipment difficulties make up approximately half of lengthy delays, and most oftenly “the most common reason for a delay is still that the left or right channel of the PA system has, as they say, 'gone down'.” Also, he cites that there are “escalating manifestations of backstage rituals whereby the artists themselves 'focus their energies' through hand-holding, chants, candles and prayers.“ and in result of this, “tour managers claim that artists increasingly desire that this concrescence of energy should exist on the other side of the stage equally, and that it's in the interests of the event to invest in, and optimise, the congregational dynamic.” Yet, as Witts explains, “there is a curious, ill-defined period between the moment the technicians have finished their on-stage preparations so that the stage is fit for the artist - that pageant known as the 'roadie cabaret' - and the moment of the band's arrival, when it ultimately appears incorporate on stage.” Thus, he lays his thesis down:

*

“How long is that gap meant to be? This seemingly non-productive passage of time is unique to non-unionised music. Unlike classical concerts or recitals there's rarely a strict schedule, perhaps a hand-written notice pinned to a door with the tour manager's suggested order: '8.30pm support act, 10pm main band'. But, as one yellow-toothed tour manager told me, 'The main guys are a law unto themselves. Rock Around The Clock it ain't'. So for argument's sake let's call the gap - which occurs post-technician and preartist - the Expectant Void.”

*

In interviewing three prominent British promoters and two tour managers to investigate what exactly is going on within the “expectant void”, Witts found that they don’t believe the void is meant to arouse anticipation or suspense, but instead “classify - into four categories - what they call 'the irritating events' that fill it.”. Technical hold-ups (40%) and miscommunication (10%) make up two of the four categories. Yet, his respondents claimed that 20% of hold-ups “covered the unforeseen, the accidental or the 'cock-up'.” which include the most common example of it: “nip outside to buy a packet of cigarettes but leave their backstage pass in the dressing room and the stage door security won't let them inside, even when they point to their photos on the posters (this is why the press-stud wristband was introduced, itself now a caste status symbol)” He also claims these two particular incidences as supreme examples of the unforeseen:

*

1) “The Blind Boys of Alabama - being blind - walk in crocodile formation, one hand on the shoulder of the brother in front. At one British venue they were given a green room at stage level to save them walking far. As they were about to go on stage, one of them decided he wanted to go to the toilet. They agreed it would be best under the circumstances if they all went to the toilet. But the nearest toilet by now was at the side of the auditorium. So the first view the audience got of the Blind Boys of Alabama was not of them walking onto the stage but instead groping along the wall of the stalls in formation, disappearing one by one into the Gents (and eventually out again).”

2) “A cult band was going on stage in Manchester but the members suddenly noticed the singer had disappeared. The manager called the head of security who made a backstage search, only to find the singer halfway down a dark corridor being given a blow job by a dedicated fan. Thus in order to come on stage he had to come off-stage First.”

*

Finally, it is the artist him/herself who accounts for 30% of delays, where ego-feeding and fear of failure itself is the greatest blame behind it of all. Witts explains the longest-known length of time an artist kept the audience waiting, at two-and-a-half hours:

*

“In 1984 the ex-Velvet Underground chanteuse Nico toured Eastern Europe. In Prague it was only in her dressing room (just before she was due to go on stage) that Nico discovered she'd run out of heroin. She ordered a roadie to get some. In Prague. He went out of the venue and eventually, in Wenceslas Square, to his amazement, he found a dealer. He paid over the odds but he purchased for Nico a gram of smack. Nico, relieved, opened up the wrap, only to find it was a 'bum deal' of all-too-real brown sugar. 'You fools,' she groaned, 'You can't do anything right. I'll have to go out myself.' By now the audience had been waiting an hour and a half over time. She put on her coat, went outside and, eventually, she bought a deal. Returning to her dressing room, she opened it up - only to find that she'd been to the same man and now had two wraps of certified demerera. Her audience had by then been waiting two and a half hours, and she now had to go on stage to perform - without her fix, in a state of tortured withdrawal. Her first words were, 'Would anyone like some sugar?'.”

*

So remember, next time you’re stuck there in the pit salivating for Yngwie Malmsteen to snake-charm all 24 of his caprices from his 1972 blond Strat, “The Duck”, you can feel a little bit of comfort knowing that he’s probably just scratching through flavor after flavor of Harry Potter All-Flavor jelly beans, vowing not to rise until he tastes a Maui Wowie flavored one. And remember:

*

“Don’t let it kill you baby, don’t let it get to you
Don’t let ’em kill you baby, don’t let ’em get to you
I’ll be your breathin’ heart, I’ll be your cryin’ fool
Don’t let this go to far, don’t let it get to you…”

*

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-05-01T15:27:00.000-07:00

"...Which One Shall I Order First? I Just Can’t Choose. Kappa, Anakyu, Tekka. Sayori, Kazunoko. Ooo..."

Ever since 2:00 yesterday afternoon I've had this power pop punchbowl by Japanese duo Shonen Knife stuck in my head:

*

"Sushi, sushi, sushi bar!
Going to a sushi bar!
Sushi, sushi, sushi bar!
Going to a sushi bar!
Sushi, sushi, sushi bar!
Going to a sushi bar!
Sushi, sushi, sushi bar!
Going to a sushi bar!

I wanna go to a sushi bar.
I wanna go with you.
Hamachi, Ika, Ebi, Tako.
Maguro, Kaibashira..."

*

(giggles) That's because late afternoon yesterday I ambled on over to the Lloyd Center area sushi-go-round Marinepolis Sushi Land, located at 1409 NE Weidler Street to satisfy my proclivity for some nigiri! Indubitably, I took a lil' saunter with my family six blocks down lush, canopied Tillamook Street and saw all the grandmother trees lining the sidewalks, not to mention got a weekly peep of Peace Plaza and the chickens and roosters our 18th Street neighbors have mooching around their lil' back forty, up until we got to 15th Street, where we walked down across Broadway over to Weidler and, yare yare, Sushi Land awaits! :)

Marinepolis Sushi Land is a kaiten-zushi (or conveyor belt sushi restaurant) where the plates filled with all kinds of different sushi are placed on a rotating conveyor belt that winds all across the restaurant, cruising past every table and counter seat, sometimes even in the form of wooden sushi boats rowing down colorful canals. It’s like the automat meets The Outer Limits, everyone! J The plates at Marinepolis are also cooler-coded to indicate the price, with green worth $1.00 (jncluding cucumber rolls smoked salmon rolls and smelt roes), orange worth $1.50 (including shrimp tempura rolls, soy bean salads and yellowtail), blue worth $2.00 (including spicy tunas, albacore toros and salmon roe), and, if you’re a frog in the well that has a zazzle for knowing the ocean, purple plates are worth $3.00 (jncluding spider rolls, sea urchins and blue fin tuna toros). Specials are also available that can be specifically requested to the chef, all at their own various prices as well. By the end of your meal, the final bill is calculated based on the number and color of plates of the consumed sushi. And the best part of all is, you're treated with all the wasabi and picked ginger you can handle, with each table treated with communal containers loaded with the essentials, as well as soy sauce and teriyaki sauce.

To seek the origin of this harmonious haragei, look no further than Yoshiaki Shiraishi, the inventor of conveyor-belt sushi. You see, as you can expect from the typical small sushi bar manager's lament, it became difficult for him staffing his restaurant and even managing the restaurant single-handedly. So, as legend has it, he got the idea of conveyor-belt sushi after observing the brilliant quietude of a beer bottle meandering all around an Asahi brewery on a conveyor belt. And.....Mitsuketa, after five years of development on the conveyor belt and speed operations, Shiraishi opened the first conveyor belt sushi Mawaru Genroku Sushi in Osaka in 1958, where he went on to help create 240 eventually.

In the beginning, customers were seated in front of the conveyor belt, but ooohhhhh that was unpopular somehow. Sooooooooo, eventually tables were designed at right angels to the conveyor belt, which could seat as many as six each, to make it both more comfortable for each of the sushi senseis and reduce the length and costs of constructing the Union Tsubugai Railroad! (giggles) Apparently Shiraishi also experimented with sushi served by servant robots, but that didn’t go too kindly either, LOL! Also, some conveyor belt sushi restaurants have introduced this new touch screen monitor system, where the screen shows a virtual aquarium with all kinds of different fishes, and by touching a fish, you automatically order the sushi, and brought right your way via the Kitsune Express, which apparently is a very sustainable system in that it dramatically reduces the percentage of excess sushi not eaten!

So, there you have it, and indeed I was a spread eagle octopus stationed beside the conveyor belt, stoicly swaying like a willow in the wind awaiting the two halves of the cucumber, dressed in cheongsams of seaweed, rice vinegar and sesame, for my dining desire, gone in 8 centimeters per second! I ended up consuming three green plates of cucumber roll, one orange plate of veggie roll, and one orange plate of soy bean salad. Immediately after my meal I realized, “Hey, whenever I have a dollar and fifty cents lying in my pocket having a blanket drill, rather than spending it on a Charleston Chew or a twenty ounce can of Diet Black Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, I could combat my orthorexia the healthy way by just double-dutchin’ on over to Marinepolis, order a green plate of fried bean curd, and show a gesture of goodwill by offering a 50% gratuity with my remaining fifty cents. :)

Hey, did you know Marinepolis also has a Plate Championship? Nope, that certainly is not the pickle radish talking, for you can become the next Rocky Shorey (the current grand champion who devoured 56 plates within ninety minutes), ask the manager, "Hey, can I be a plate champion?", then be prepared to consume at least 30 plates of sushi by yourself within an hour and a half. Finally, when you're finished, you can call the server to come on over, count the plates, get your name and address, and take a snapshot of you, where you will be inducted into the illustrious on-line plate champion record repository, handed the all-exclusive "Marinepolis Sushi Land PLate Champion T-Shirt", and have multiple chances to win all kinds of gift certificates. Whether I have the audacity to do it remains uncertain, but what I do know is I will always be far more certain to ever do this than to do a poor Marshmallow Peeps smack-lipped massacre! ;)

Uso! Dôzo, hitokire dôzo! But before you gear up those chopsticks, remember these four rules of sushi etiquette, my child:

1) If you see something you like, trust your instincts and make your move, for it may not come around again. Each piece is an imperial opportunity of a feast.

2) If you love a taste of danger and want to go full throttle for fugu sashimi, or perhaps you love going neurotic exotic and have a taste for the Bakudan Mali roll (something like crisp sweet shrimp with grilled pineapple, baby arugula topped with avocado, curried coconut and a fried yucca ragout) but can't find it on the conveyor, don't be shy, ask for it, for special requests can always be concocted!

3) Take a deep breath, relax, and pace yourself before leaping in head-first for the treats. This way you can analyze the items by low, medium, high and habanero high rotation, and pull right off the belt with 100% accuracy what tickles your fancy.

4) Give the sushi cook a tip, they deserve it. At least 10 to 15% would do quite nicely! :)

Subarashii!

*

"Which one shall I order first?
I just can't choose.
Kappa, Anakyu, Tekka. Sayori, Kazunoko.
Ooo, let's eat a healthy menu.
It's a famous Japanese meal.
Ooo, let's drink hot green tea
after a Japanese meal."

*

Anyway, today we also happen to be kicking off a whole new month. That's right, April gave us showers, and now we get to witness the marveling of May flowers. It's no mistake to me why May is said to be named after the Greek goddess Maia, who was identified with the Roman goddess of fertility, named Bona Dea. May is arguably my absolute favorite month of the year, the time of the year when Japanese children are stricken by the infectious May sickness and long to escape to their onsen ryokans and permeate the Pachinko parlors. Where the Finnish sow and sow and sow the lush days away in the high grasses with the bumblebees and the lily of the valley. And hey, you can't go wrong when every single Star Wars film ever made has so happened to have been released this mellifluous month! :)

May 1st also happens to be Mother Goose Day. :) Mother Goose Day was founded in 1987 by Gloria T. Delamar while publishing her book titled, "Mother Goose; From Nursery to Literature". The day's purpose is to re-celebrate all our favorite nursery rhymes, and, "either alone or in sharing, read childhood nursery favorites and feel the warmth of Mother Goose's embrace." Mother Goose Day is now listed in many calendars of events and celebrated from sea to shining sea, especially energizing kindergartens, libraries, and nursing homes.

So bring along your Mother Goose Rhyme books, gather with your friends, act out skits of different rhymes with them in the forms of pantomines and charades, light up a cozy lil' campfire and host a Mother Goose Sing-A-Thon, brew some wholesome Pease Porridge fondue, and go with the flow and improvise your own rhymes with the rhythm and patter banter. :) I'll start:

"A swarm of bees in May
Is worth a load of hay;
A swarm of bees in June
Is worth a silver spoon;
A swarm of bees in July
Is not worth a fly."

Zum gali gali gali gali! I dickery dickery dare ya! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

Eclair Of Ephebism

How about another poetic parfet, on the sandbox! :)

*******************

Ephebism
By: Noah Eaton
4/28/06

We spend so much time in the air,
when the body speaks what lips and lungs cannot,
seeking the provenance of providence,
from the moon shot to the soft spot,
suspending each strong percussion beat of the heart,
leaving my body with an infatuating hunger,
that can only be satiated and satisfied,
by filling each silence with motion of younger wonder.

My dance is a complex dialogue,
with each part of my body speaking different languages,
syncopating emancipation,
from the monkey bridge to each rainbow ridge,
each forbidden heartbeat is a polymeter seamstress,
woven in each blow struck by the belly button,
I strike it like the beating of a suco drum,
incinerating in the flower of the mouth of ephebism.

Release your inhibitions and embrace your youth,
let loose, slither limber like French vermouth,
I’ll cross-pollinate the world with amiability,
we’ll seek belief deep in this synchronicity,
the purest beauty comes from bodies which believe...

Every rhythm may feel foreign at first,
its immense, intense incense may not make sense,
but I find that the problem’s not the music’s misdirection,
often it’s just the misdirection of listening that overextends,
so I reach and touch the fire in my happy prejudices,
prancing with molasses masses and wasabi wallabies,
and everything the morning star never suspected,
comes alive through promiscuous laughter and polyvocality.

Release your inhibitions and embrace your youth,
let loose, slither limber like French vermouth,
I’ll cross-pollinate the world with amiability,
we’ll seek belief deep in this synchronicity,
the purest beauty comes from bodies which believe...

And it’s through the deep springs of life,
that there’s flight in flexibility,
conducting with my feet,
universal possibility,
even the untrained eye,
can feel the stamina of the sun,
patterning between my feet,
this love I share with everyone...

Release your inhibitions and embrace your youth,
let loose, slither limber like French vermouth,
I’ll cross-pollinate the world with amiability,
we’ll seek belief deep in this synchronicity,
the purest beauty comes from bodies which believe...
.
.
the purest beauty comes from bodies which believe...
.
.
the purest beauty comes from bodies which believe...
.
.
the purest beauty comes from bodies which believe...
.
.
invite your inner-child to dance with me,
invite your inner-child to dance with me...

***********

*

***********

Tropics Of Cancer
By: Noah Eaton
4/17/06

Like driftwood ebbing into a safe harbor,
waxing and waning with largesse,
invisible playmates pussyfoot kaleidoscopic quays,
egressing from teeming reefs where lotuses fluoresce,
chariots line the arteries of your memory,
encarmined with brushfires of amber,
you’re a breath of onycha,
ameliorating earth’s eye,
measuring the depth of her own essence,
gilded with an indigo slather.

Throngs of mermaids fill your oceans,
gossamer mists balm me like calamine lotion,
but nothing ever compares to home,
in fathomless tropics of Cancer...

...in the tropics of Cancer...

Soft degrees enshrine your coterie,
lactated in blankets of asphodel,
nestled in your beehive of stars,
moonwort gardens and apricot bars,
and fecund laughter between each breathing spell,
you're the morning star that precedes the dawn,
you're the trumpeter swan,
virtuously vaunting your aurora scarf,
everything of the deep is your family,
unabashedly otherworldly,
the sandbar is your pop-tart,
your pop-tart...

Throngs of mermaids fill your oceans,
gossamer mists balm me like calamine lotion,
but nothing ever compares to home,
in fathomless tropics of Cancer...

...in the tropics of Cancer...

Balance and constant affection,
and silver-toned circumspection,
glisten like nail polish,
and birthday cards each May Day,
you're the pink gourami,
dolphin-kicking within my briny deep,
mellifluous Maori mouth music,
there's never any need for apology,
for the mythology of your genealogy,
new moon of the lagoon,
typhoon of the blue moon...

Throngs of mermaids fill your oceans,
gossamer mists balm me like calamine lotion,
the samba humming betwixt the littoral drift,
each neap tide's shy nourishment,
because nothing ever compares to home,
in fathomless tropics of Cancer...

...in the tropics of Cancer...

***********

*

***********

I Paid 25 Cents For My First Kiss At A Kissing Booth And All I Got Was This Bad Case Of Mono
By: Noah Eaton
3/5/06

I was a hopeless romantic,
untying giraffes from telephone poles in Vermont,
the Saint Johnsbury Caledonian,
knighted me the L’enfant of Croissants,
sugarcoating me with a pinch of nonchalance.
I hosted public baths every Saturday night,
in the pond down in Hubbard Park,
I went to Ben & Jerry’s,
created the flavor Contrary Canary,
served with maraschino cherries and cinnamon bark.

Yet something was missing,
something was missing from my life,
my lips were as dry as the Atacama,
chapped with a dust bowl’s strife,
and so I thought over this dilemma,
and then I knew just what to do,
I bought the local lemonade stand drive-through,
and turned it into a drive-through kissing booth.

And so I balmed my lips with vaseline,
olive oil, beeswax and peppermint,
I was prepared to break my kiss-less streak,
I was not about to squint,
a Buddhist monk came to visit,
he offered me peach blossoms for good luck,
I was shaking like a freshman in culinary school,
but I had as much pluck as a pastry truck.

Then suddenly I see cruising down Berlin Street,
in a green Stiletto built from a 1960’s Corvair,
some eager customer making a sharp turn toward me,
I swear I was in a castle in the air,
she said her name was Regina Toscanini,
a Latvian foreign exchange student,
a runner-up World Parcheesi champion,
with a face I could read as animated yet prudent.

So I paid her a quarter and then she leaned forward,
and I felt her lips make the sweet stinging caress,
and then by the time I opened my eyes,
she was gone before I could have the feeling assessed,
oh yeah, I was sure flying high that afternoon,
leaping as high as a kangaroo on Boxing Day,
I felt as though I was skipping down the Appian Way,
Or making the step of the cat in the corps de ballet.

But a month and a half later, I began feeling strange,
I could have sworn I caught the flu,
yet no one at work was under the weather,
and it was the last day of June,
but, oh, how my head was aching,
and my temperature peaked up to 103,
and my throat was all tied up in a knot,
Oh, dear Lord, have mercy on me!

Then I felt, “Malarkey, this is just one of those common colds,
I’m gonna chase it right down to Chinatown,
just a lil’ pomegranate juice and Echinacea milkshake,
will drop that hammer down,
then I headed to Cheung Wai Tak’s acupuncture clinic,
unleashing the qi through all twenty pathways of my body,
wore fourteen wreaths of nutmeg around my neck,
and summoned a witch doctor,
to chant the 109th and 119th psalms incessantly.

Yeah, I felt as though I was winning this cage match,
I felt I got that sickness tangled in a dusty finish,
but suddenly I swear the referee came in with a folding chair,
and threw quite an epidemic gimmick,
like Dracula, I became oversensitive to light,
and my spleen and liver became enlarged,
my tonsils were French-kissing each other in my mouth,
that’s when I knew that first match was merely a midcard.

So I began getting very desperate,
I bore three holes in the middle of a selected tree,
and walked three times around it,
shouting “Flee, you germy hooligan, flee!”
Then I consulted my witch doctor,
asked him if he had a personal rival,
he said, “Ooh eee ooh ah ah,
tic-tac-toe walla-walla no-no!”

I had never felt more tired in all my life,
giraffes and croissants had missed me for weeks,
I was bedridden, stuck playing electronic hand-held Yahtzee,
and marathons of The Lance Krall Show on Spike TV.
Jebediah Joplin’s litter of cats broke through my screen door hole,
strutting around like I conceded defeat and they owned the place,
I felt as though I’ve come to the end of the road,
when Paw-leeze kicked the catnip in my face.

I became death-defiant for resolve,
so I sprung out of my sheets like a coil spring,
hopped right into my low-rider school bus,
making like the cat and the canary down to Doctor Lowenstein,
he gave me a thorough examination,
stuck a butterfly needle in me to check my diagnosis,
and then wasting no time he proclaimed,
“You have what we call a bad case of mononucleosis!”

So he ordered me a prescription of Motrin,
and offered me a shot of Dexatrin,
he urged me to drink plenty of fluids,
and suck on plenty of Mighty Magic Minis and Swirlwinds,
he told me to get plenty of rest,
because exercise could rupture my spleen,
and told me not to take any aspirin,
and warned me, most of all, “No kissing for a few weeks!”

So eventually I healed completely,
and slowly I regained my focus and testosterone,
a hippie chimp covered me of my duties,
and I had my annual lost sock memorial pilgrimage postponed,
I ran down the full length of Theodore Roosevelt Highway,
in my Aunt Agnus’ burgundy angora sweater,
crying “Hallelujah, I can breathe again,
Lord, thank you for freeing me from these parasitic fetters!”

So learn this lesson and learn it well,
if you’re desperate to have your first kiss,
at all costs don’t rush it on some stranger,
especially if it’s a Latvian foreign exchange student...

...wow,
is it National Candied Orange Peel Day or what?

*

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-24T15:23:00.000-07:00

Violent Ecstasy In A Waffle Cone Zoot Suit

Freeze this date on your calendar and lick it! Yepper-doodle-dandy, you guessed it.....Ben & Jerry's is celebrating its drool-inducing 28th Annual Free Cone Day jubilation tomorrow from noon to 8 P.M! :) Last year over one million free samples were given away, both in cone or bowl, in every high-falootin' toute-frooozen flavor across their luscious kitchen from the Marsha Marsha Marshmallow to the Gobfather...The Flavor You Can't Refuse!

Golly gee, as Heywood Campbell Brown insisted, "I doubt whether the world holds for anyone a more soul-stirring surprise than the first adventure with ice cream." I only learned just ten minutes ago that Ben & Jerry's fans can get in line as many times as they want (and here I was these past few years leaving my thighs parched of cholestrol like a sucker, LOL!) Yep, those globbety-goopy goobers will be offering generous 4 ounce scoops (measuring three inches across), which one million servings of that gunky downhome goodness equals 250,000 pounds or 125 tons. In fact, did you know that all of the Free Cone Day scoops piled one on top of the other would scrape the sky at 250,000 feet, equivalent to approximately 200 times taller than the Empire State Building?

Not only do I savor Ben & Jerry's scrumptious, ineluctable flavors on any given day.....I also highly respect Ben & Jerry's for their company values. Their mission statwment is progressive-minded and is made up of three interrelated parts. Their Product Mission is "to make, distribute & sell the finest quality all natural ice cream & euphoric concoctions with a continued commitment to incorporating wholesome, natural ingredients and promoting business practices that respect the Earth and the Environment." Their Economic Mission is "to operate the Company on a sustainable financial basis of profitable growth, increasing value for our stakeholders & expanding opportunities for development and career growth for our employees." And finally, their Social Mission is "to operate the company in a way that actively recognizes the central role that business plays in society by initiating innovative ways to improve the quality of life locally, nationally & internationally."

They recognize as I do that the gap between the rich and the poor is wider than at anytime since the 1920's, and they work to generate these economic opportunities for those who have been denied them and see to it they are sustainable. They make their products with no environmental degradation and respect for local farms and rural communities. And they also believe in respect and nonviolence to make peace and justice possible, believing the government should work to strengthen human needs than to produce mass weapons systems. Their 50 Ways To Promote Peace mission on their official web-site is one I adhere and breathe every single day. Whenever I can, I always live up to #6 and love walking to some place I haven't walked yet in the city, and love waltzing right through Chinatown and the Hispanic communities to the south of the city in particular. And I always make efforts to talk to young people like myself about peace, and believe having peace projects in school classrooms as suggested in #46 is a wonderful way to broaden the virtues of peace and non-violence to our children, who will be the voice of tomorrow.

They also are currently promoting the Lick Global Warming Campaign, a project co-sponsored by the Dave Matthews Band (they have a yummy flavor called Magic Brownies that can make all the ants come marching and every Nancy dance, LOL!) and SaveOurEnvironment.org, which is calling for clean, renewable sources of energy, advocating for clean air standards in every state nationwide that could provide 20% of our electricity from clean sources by 2020, promote the Climate Stewardship Act to reduce global warming pollution, and strives to stop oil drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, one of our nation's largest, pristine wilderness areas. All wonderful progressive values I stand for! :)

Here in Portland, every cone, cake, smoothie and sundae you buy goes to support New Avenues for Youth, LLC, a nonprofit organization that prevents homelessness among youth by immediately responding to their needs, engages homeless youth positively by building trust, stabilizes youth so they can begin to heal from abuse, and educates and train youth so they never have to return to the streets. With my Portland Ben & Jerry's being a PartnerShop, the scoop shop is used as a place to teach young people job and entrepreneurial skills, so that way not only can you enjoy the violent euphoria on your tongue, you also feel good spiritually knowing you're giving back to your community and making a difference, that you've taken part since 1997 in guiding 1,200 youth back into positive living situations and preventing even more from becoming homeless. :)

This frothy opportunity only comes once a year, so seize that good medicine, perhaps to try one of their new flavors of this year like Turtle Soup, Bananas On The Rum or Lemonade Sorbet, and also leave with a pat on your back knowing you're also sprinkling the world with a handful of altruism. :) What's not to like, what's not to like?

In honor of Free Cone Day, everyone will see me sported in my extra-special Cherry Garcia tie-dye, which I've only worn twice in the past year. :) Hey, that reminds me......where can I get one of those snazzy, voguish cow hats? Guess I'll come equipped in a waffle cone zoot suit! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-23T18:09:00.000-07:00

Synchronicity, Belief & Guaraná In The Depth Of Every Measure

¡Canastos! Last night, safety pins were certainly the best friend of many dancers, as Portland State University kicked off its second annual Brazilian Carnaval celebration in the Smith Center's 3rd floor ballroom. Well as the Tunisian dancers say, "A day I don't dance is a day I don't live", and if you're not dancing, you're just wasting your feet, so I went straight there to show off the luminous manifestation of my soul.

In one of my texts for my English 308U course "Dance In Literature", titled "Bodies In The Text: Dance As Theory, Literature As Dance", there is a wonderful contribution by Barbara Browning titled "Samba: The Body Articulate", where she says samba "may seem both fluid, jointless, and at the same time entirely disjointed." (39). As this happens, the dance "narrates a story of racial content, conflict and resistance, not just mimetically across a span of musical time, but synchronically in the depth of a single measure." (39)

There is indeed a great mystique to the origin of this dance, with a diverse imbuing of bloodlines from both African slaves and natives contributing much of its story told through didi no pé, or "speaking with the feet". As she also explains, "samba is as much a fragmentation of a holy black body as it is a healing of spiritual and political wounds." (53) Lymphatic motion is unconvincing and unpoetic itself, but when a dance is overly jointed, I feel that kind of dance is unsympathetic, it lacks emotion, it lacks what Browning thinks of as "belief and resistance" (54). But simply just envisioning the samba dancer recall these stories, and rhythmically stepping thunderously and speaking of the injustices like the storm goddess Iansa, while seeking rejuvenation as "shoulders shimmer like the surface of Yemanjá's (the goddess of the sea) waters." (49) is a story only the body can speak, wholeheartedly raw and unabridged.

I believe with every dance, there's poetry and a deep, unabashed sensuality. Often the greatest sensuality sprouts from "belief and resistance", and why I'm also deeply convinced that samba has become a dance recognized inter-culturally; in "speaking with the feet", you're not merely speaking a story, you're enacting the story, you are of the story! :)

So anyway, the doors opened at 7:00 last night there, and I went in and got myself a great seat in the third aisle from the stage to the left of the auditorium. Then I headed over to the back of the auditorium, where the local La Villa Restaurant was catering for the event, and got myself a piping hot Spinach Pie and a can of Guaraná Antarctica soda. I don't recall ever having a can of Guaraná befre, even when I enjoyed spending every little bit of allowance money I had at the Avanza supermarket at the Lakeside Center after my Saturday driving school sessions at Minnie Rates Driving School , where I'd get chocolate coconut candies, coconut sodas, Tampoco drinks, and once even brought home a half pound of spicy crawfish, which I ate for lunch that very afternoon shortly before becoming a vegetarian. Whooooooops-a-daisy, I'm digressing here, LOL, so anyway I really enjoyed that Guaraná; it tastes like guava juice with carbonated water. Definitely something in terms of exotica that blasts Coca-Cola Blak out of the water! :)

Right around 8:00, ¡pum!, the show began! Renata Secco of the Lions of Batucada led a samba march from the back of the auditorium to the stage, dressed up in verdant greens and gyrating with the Brazilian flag proudly on a pole. She was followed by a throng of dazzling female PSU World Dance students, all dressed up in green, gold and white with belly buttons proudly exposed, marching in single file down the central aisle, with their arms jointlessly and rhythmatically waving high over their heads and down to their hips in repetitive motion like tapioca in motion. Right behind them were several gentlemen in white Brazilian suits, interpreting their own samba dances, and several other dancers, including Beto Guimarães, a talented and nationally renowned teacher and performer of contemporary Brazilian dance, who was born in Olinda of northeastern Brazil, the heritage city of UNESCO, in the state of Pernambuco, who has taught brazilian dances including samba, samba de roda, pagode, coco de roda, samba regae, frevo and Maracatu. He certainly was the frolicsome star host of the evening, cavorting around in his black silk shirt with red tints and sparkling, prismatic confetti pants. He even teaches private lessons and dance workshops in the Bay Area at his official-website . What an entrance indeed! :) (does happy mole pagode) So they all thundered to the stage and upon it, against the throbbing of the repinique and the surdo, making an infectious galloping rhythm with the tamborins. These instruments drove much of the evening's dances, accompanied sometimes by the agogo, an iron and steel instrument that makes a sound by striking a stick against the instrument's two bells, producing high and low tones. Incredibly sexy, especially with the belief filling each gyration, each vibration.

The second dance featured seven women in long, white dresses with green and white head decorations, who often danced in an oval formation carrying wooden mirrors which they gazed deep into, with arms and trembling shoulders swinging like pendulums while staring into the mirrors against a lyrical chant that sounded like, "Mo-dee-la-ma, mo de lee mai oh, ya ba do da do may oh...".

Then, three youngens in colorful shirts and pants stole the show in the third dance sequence, with lil' arms swinging like tapioca propellers, performing an incredibly acrobatic dance sequence with leg split leaps, lots of hopping and spinning around with one foot off the ground at all times, feet extensions while squatting, gymnastics and then a repeat of the dance sequence holding colorful Carnival parasols.

Finally, the Lions of Batucada and the PSU Dance students performed a final dance, where the female dance students returned to the stage and performed a very sensual dance sequence with lots of jiggling, shaking that got me and the whole audience shook up. Midway through, I already found myself caught up in their sexy sequence of the shaking of the hips while swinging your arms up high with your fingers outstreched, then swinging down to your hips with your fingers outstretched in smooth rotation, and at another point I got excited and literally hot seeing this sequence where the dancers extended their right arm out like the outstreched wing of a bird, then the left arm, then boldly pressed their right hands on their right hips, then their left hands on their left hips, then side-stepped rightward making a horizontal rhythm-like motion of the hands outstretched leftward and then leaped with hands up in celebratory glee. Pure seduction! (blushes) That sequence alone makes me want to take samba classes so I can tempt my dream girl beyond the pleasure dome! (giggles) :)

Afterward, the Grupo Capoeira Regional do Brasil performed an exciting, free-wheeling, bravura of a show, with a group of students, most in their navy blue school shirts and white pants and some in white pants with hay skirts and decorative orange hats, performing their flexibility and elasticity to the Nth degree. ¡Huy! I swear they must have showed off the entire Capoeira encyclopedia within fifteen minutes; from handstand whirling to Folha Secas (kind of like an overhead kick in soccer, except you land on your feet again) to the devilish Au Malandro! All of the dance sequences had a feeling of circularity and unity, where often the dancers moved in a counter-clockwise motion, in one sequence with straw sombrero-like hats on, who would come together in a motion as though resembling the calyx of a flower, place their hats on the ground, widen the circle, then come together again, pick up their hats, continue in the counter-clockwise motion, then suddenly would move around in an oval motion with the dancers toward the audience moving backward kneeling in a motion as though they're pulling a rope. Each of the dance sequences also featured buoyant musical rhythms, with the berimbau, two tambourines, an agogo, and an atabaque (percussion drum), and while the music goes on, in their roda (or circle) where capoeira is played, the roada represents a microcosm which reflects the macrocosm of life and the world around us, where often a capoeira student's main opponent is ones self. Moreover, the music often has a call and response pattern that usually thanks God and one's teacher, among other things, which call and response are repeatedly chanted while the games are played. :)

Then, afterwards, Bom Demais of Seattle, Xevi Nova, and the Axé Didé Dance Company performed additional dances, performing a wide, diverse pallette of influences from Afro-Brazilian to Afro-Cuban, from Gaga to more modern styles, one with the commanding drumbeat Booboobooboo, dun dun dun!", another against a lyrical rhythm that sounded: "Ah la pwee I oh, ah la pwee I oh, ah la pwee I oh, bah dah gaya pwee I oh!" Hopefully I can find a translator soon, they truly were beautiful, sinuous cadences! :)

Finally, after announcing the two raffle winners of two free dinners to the Brazil Grill, famously known as "Portland's Only Churrascaria" (Churrasco is a centuries old Brazilian traditional cooking method, which has a unique way of roasting the meat on a special grill from Brazil, and conserving the natural flavor of each portion and leaving each cut full of its natural juice, with the Churrascaria the restaurant that serves this type of meat) where roaming gauchos will come and carve your meats at your tableside (gluton and tempeh for me, of course, since I'm a vegetarian now, ¡ay!), all the chairs close to the stage were removed so we could prepare to initiate our forms of interpretive dance with Beto Guimarães. Yep, how could I ever be a cluck when the opportunity to dance has arrived? So I took to the floor for about forty-five minutes, braising those endorphins and inhaling the Vitamin D of the nightlife limelight, performing my vagarious array of salamander samba, happy dance granola, frenzied gestures I make listening to Shakira's music and the Thin Mint Flit. (giggles)

Then by about 11:00, most of us took our feet speeches all the way home, and I got back to my house just in time before midnight to catch Mulberry Commons on Multnomah Public Television. Saturday evening is always my favorite time to tune in, where the most random material is always aired, from reruns of The vonHummer Hour to archived concert footage of The Folk You!, a guitar duo who would mix a whole bunch of popular songs together including "Ballroom Blitz" and "Mrs. Robertson" with mad, fervent guitar playing, and even wrote their own numbers including one about a moon pie. Oooohhhhhhhh...God Bless the outré, outlandish oversoul of Community Television! :)

Once I collect more mulah from BetZip poker, note-taking efforts for my English 366 American Fiction III class, and when I find some odd jobs this summer, I'm going to definitely take some dance classes around town, especially in samba, and next time I come mooching the halls of KBOO jovially, I'll graduate from my signature single lutz to the Macaco, and will get Kirk VanderVeer, Doug Guidi, John Delderfield and Co. to trill: ¡Cáspita! Ay, that could still be the Guaraná talking, but indeed, as D.H Lawrence said, "We ought to dance with rapture that we might be alive...and part of the living, incarnate cosmos." Let your imagination release your imprisoned possibilities...and let them dance like flittering fairies!

Oh.....and make sure you bring some safety pins too.....they often truly are a belly dancer's best friend! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-20T16:41:00.000-07:00

Friends Make Up A Second Family

Normally, every day when I commute into downtown Portland and back to my lil' abode nestled just around NE 21st and Tillamook, I can feel rather isolated, sometimes breaching right through a sea of strangers (or as I like to put it friends I have yet to meet and know). I've felt rather lonesome many of these days as of late, and really desire to meet someone, whether it be the girl of my dreams who I could walk hand in hand down the buoyant, bubbly boardwalks and talk about everything with, or just some close lil' munchkin friend who I could talk meteor showers and lemon bars with and share i-Pod files up and down Sandy Boulevard. Forming some strong, deep relationships is what I dream and desire most of all, as a Scorpio's spiritual goal is to seek the meaning of selfless love, and the only unsinkable ship is friendship, yay! :)

But so far this week so many pleasant surprise personalities have crossed my path on my way to Portland State University and back, yay! :) First of all, yesterday morning right before 10:00 after crossing Broadway from Pioneer Courthouse Square, I saw Yamina, a pretty fellow KBOO volunteer who recently has been seeking training in the News & Public Affairs Department and also recently visited Kenya, where she stayed for about a month. There's just something about her smile that is especially contagious and endemic; she's such a sweet girl who was on her way to a class of her own at the bus stop, and so I said hello to her, said that me and everyone at KBOO always enjoys her company and we can't wait to see you again soon, yay! :) I certainly wish I had more time to chat (my American Fiction III class was less than fifteen minutes away) but seeing her certainly brought a smile to my heart, yay! :)

Then, as I made my matutinal promenade south on Broadway through downtown Portland's jugular, right outside the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall.....you guessed it.....I came across a second KBOO volunteer in a row within a span of four minutes. It was actually someone I never actually got officially acquainted with, but I immediately recognized as a gentleman who was answering phones with me during our recent Spring 2006 Membership Drive (by the way, we met our goal of $16,000+, yay! :) ) So we spent about two minutes or so talking of the inactivity/quietude filling Pledge Central in the afternoons, and how we agreed between 10 A.M when the ratings begin dipping into the low tide as the work day reaches full throttle, and how they pick back up when the Evening News comes on and the rush hour commute is beginning that many of the shows were overreaching their goals (some programs pushed for as much as $1,000 within 90-120 minutes and, as I had predicted, made about half as much). Again, his friendly face upgraded Yamina's single shot of extra endorphins to a double shot!

:) And though I didn't make the hat trick yesterday, this morning on my way to my English 344: Victorian Literature class, voila.....I saw super-cool KBOO News & Public Affairs chihuahua Lisa Loving waltz toward me on the west sidewalk side of Broadway right around where the Taste of Bali is located. :) She said she was on her way to KBOO from the National Federation of Community Broadcasters conference, which the City of Roses is so honored to have the once-in-a-lifetime honor to host, and she had a lil' miscellany of bumper stickers from other community radio stations from sea to shining sea she collected at all sorts of tables at the convention (or maybe she's been hoarding them, starting some kind of stash........just kidding! :) ). Anyway, I did my signature happy dance for her, said if I had the time I wish I could go there and jump-start my wicked, viscid repository, and she said she'd be happy to go and pick up duplicates for me, yay! :) And so in my head I'm thinking of a super-cool way to return the favor, I said "Have an endorphiny day!", did a lil' happy dance, and continued on my way to Shattuck Hall, yay! :)

There is a Persian provern that reads, "It is better to be in chains with friends, than to be in a garden with strangers." I absolutely agree with this, and this week I've certainly felt these chains of friendships worn proudly upon me like some pearl necklace of sorts. A friend certainly is a single soul that's shared in all bodies!

What's next now, I wonder? Perhaps I may just come across Jim Hightower the High Falootin' progressive cowboy and tell me that he's been hearing and cracking up of my many impersonations of him. Maybe it'll be Drew Curtis of FARK, thanking me for airing the story of the wildly-controversial two-headed snake story on the KBOO Evening News! Whatever way God chooses to swing the pendulum, "It is a sweet thing, friendship, a dear balm, a happy and auspicious bird of calm..."

Speaking of balm, anybody get some ChapStick on them?

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-17T17:02:00.000-07:00

Catering To Their Dog Constituencies?

With our mid-term elections rapidly approaching this November, one issue has of late cataractously entrenched our media landscape; the protection of our borders. And today, the urgency of this issue has escalated, with a furry feline stowaway making it past Customs agents and into our nation on the metal frame of a fertilizer truck, which has left many Americans demanding, "We must seal the borders and prevent more cats sneaking into the U.S on fertilizer trucks, more butterflies drifting across our geographical lines via El Nino's warm fronts, more blue and gold macaws from wafting across our oceans from Colombia and the Dominican Republic to perturb our traditional wren and sparrow way of life! And yet.....the Republicrats seem to be besotted to their canines and guinea pig loyalists!

Last Wednesday, this migrant furball clung to the semi-trailer's metal frame via Esterhazy, Saskatchewan on an eight hour trek into the Mainline Agronomy in Eldridge, North Dakota. Custom agents at the border alerted the driver but was unable to catch the cat. A Mainline bookkeeper by the name of Jessica Hansen rescued the cat, and now currently is working with the James River Humane Society in Jamestown to find it a new home, possibly even put it on the temporary guest scratching-post program. Gatos locos!

Oh......giggling, eh? Well, all I can say is, if you aren't taking this story seriously, you're not paying attention. Doesn't it scare you that a recent show on PBS vividly detils how foreign species push out native populations. Do you want Canadian cats coming in and converting and radically changing the ways of life among our herds of native pussy, is that what you want, huh? Just you laugh now, because with that attitude, by 2016, you'll hear nothing but "Meow, eh?" all over North Dakota.

Can't you see the obvious connection here? This Canadian cat was purposely acting like a sweet little cat sneaking across the border because that's exactly what this frisky feline wants you to believe. The stark truth is, this lil' Puffkin was simply making a trial run to test an entry method that will soon be used by invading caribou and lemmings from Canada! And you know why our corporate pro-immigration media won't share you this scoop? It's because the squirrels now have complete mind control of the silly hacks that write news stories. This cat merely has an agenda, an agenda to deteriorate the American feline family and steal legal Himalayan, Mei Toi and Sokoke immigrants opportunities to lead the American dream of luxurious siestas, catnip parties and universal toilet-training coverage. And its only the first of many!

Luckily the steel of America's canine resolve has been tested for over 225 years now, and we continue to prevail to this day.....and I am quite optimistic our canine cabinet, led by General Tyberius Rex, shall see to it the traditional, pastoral American feline lifestyle is preserved and defended for future generations to come. And that's today's Barking Points! (giggles)

LOL! Nuh-uh, nope nope nope, I keed, I keed! Here at The Serotonin Sandbox, there is never any room for prejudice, as we value all needs and dignities of every living thing, and there is never any room for prejudice here. :) I absolutely believe it's most important we see to it our borders are strengthened and made more secure, and that the legal immigrants opportunities are granted most of all, but I also believe it is wrong for us to demonize those who have happened to enter and live in our nation illegally, and especially for those who have already given birth to children of their own who attend school and are living their dreams here in America, we must treat them with respect and dignity rather than with hostility, and give them the opportunity to seek true citizenship in a fair and responsible manner. After all, our nation has been built by immigration, immigration is what has made our nation a unique, diverse, celebratory melting pot, and if we are to bolt away at this cultural window, we are bolting away much of what our country is all about.

From my heart to the tails of the many Spanish Bobtails and Kurdish Vans of the world, strut on, stray cats, strut on, for do we not deep down, all got cat class and got cat style? (giggles) Now go.......and make the lady cats cry! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-16T14:21:00.000-07:00

For Peeps Sake, You Did What!?

First order of business on this glorious Easter holiday...I thought I'd take you on a lil' mystical flashback journey to my birthday of last year (October 28, 2005) when I said the following in my entry "Happy Plush Animal Lover's And National Chocolate Day (...Oh Yeah, And My Birthday, Yay!)"

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"(giggles) I've always been such a softy for plush toy pets as well! :) Guess my small hands have their advantage, like my mom says ever so often, in nurturing and fondling furry little things with a feminine touch! :) I'm soooooo sensitive that every Easter, when the easter bunny would leave me with a box of marshmallow Peeps, to this day, I can never eat them because though I know they're not real living things and just candy shaped chicks, they just look sooooooooo cute and I just feel an immediate sense of grief everytime I look at them as though they're little living peepers! (giggles) I've kept some as pets for about 3 1/2 years now! This Peep Jousting is just like Dark Ages ordeals, I tells you! I demand it be outlawed! Can't you see the mercy and grief behind their 32 calorie faces and carnauba wax eyes, like a dolls eyes? LOL! Peep off, Sacramento, peep off! (shows pouty puppy face)"

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Well, I just wanted to take the moment to say I understand that today is the day many of us succumb to this dentist's worst nightmare and feast upon these Day-Glo basted charismatic confections, and for all of you who have taken apart in this sugar-thirsty molassicide, I hope you're happy, hmmph! (stands back to you with arms crossed with nose up in the air) No, no, don't worry, I'm a forgiving person, as that is exactly what God has always teached us as well.

But what y'all must understand is, forgiveness is a natural process, often what I like to think of as a "velvet boot camp", and in order for forgiveness to be genuine and pure, all of you yearning for forgiveness for chewing, mutilating and jousting away at Fuzziwig's minions must understand these truths to forgiveness:

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* 1) First of all, forgiveness is not forgetting. You musn't let the experiences dwell on the future, nonetheless you must understand what it is you're asking forgiveness for and seek resolve.

* 2) Secondly, forgiveness isn't avoidance. It should always be about revival. Forgiveness is designed to restore whatever relationship or harmony that was afflicted, and that is exactly what makes forgiveness such a powerful thing.

* 3) Finally, forgiveness does not come wrapped in excuses. Denial and the lack of closure for where we've wronged only subtracts our dignity as humans, for it is taking responsibility that is the learning experience that help us grow into better, more appreciative people.

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The golden truth and dogmatic aim of forgiveness is the ability to observe ourselves and others more compassionately, to make wiser, and more conscious choices with respect to any unsatisfying emotional and belief patterns. Forgiveness is valuable because it helps us balance the energies of both love and will in our hearts, and use both of these lifeforces with greater skill, to become both nurturing and strong at the same time. And, finally, forgiveness grants us the gift of making better contact with their Higher Self, the very source of love, strength, wisdom and creativity within each of us, which is the intrinsic motivation to increase the ability to love unconditionally both self and others.

So, if you are among the 40,000 who make up Just Born's Peeps fan club, or making marshmallow marionettes of them in David Ottogalli's PeepsShow, or perform mad torture experiments on them via PeepResearch.org such as dropping them in buckets of -210 Celsius liquid nitrogen for about 60 seconds then breaking them apart with a hammer, or gauging a Peep's reaction to bright lights and enclosed spaces by conducting experiments in microwave oven, forgiveness will be and will only become yours when you first accept and take responsibility for your misconducts, for there is always time to save your character from further debasement, and seek reparations and amends for the diverse, sweet-natured Peeps population, growing rapidly with 4.2 million births a day in Bethlelem, Pennsylvania with an average life-span of two years. The decision is yours and yours alone.

Peeps genuinely are just like you and me, they are like our quaggy cousins we visit once a year. They are the actors who take center stage in the annual Pioneer Press Marshmallow Peeps Diorama contest and project stories as real as Lifetime movies behind the exhibition windows at the University of Minnesota's Bell Museum. They are our public relations spokeschicks, who warn us using them as fondue or pizza topping, or consuming them too rapidly at Peep Eat-Offs may cause a Monday morning hangover of indigestion. They are our anchors who have warned us in the 2006 State of Marshmallow Peeps that the bunnies have made history by surpassing chicks as the most popular Peeps shape for the first time in 53 years. They are our activists who last month became the poster fledglings of protest against a decision to remove an Easter display from St. Paul's City Hall-Courthouse. They are our meterologists who are now flying NASA's weather balloons. And indeed they are our aspiring dreamers, who someday hope to possess the range to act out dramatic scenes in the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy and "24".

Remember that, cosmic children of our candy-coated camarderie, as you consider sinking your canines into their squishy plumage today (hopefully I'm not too late!) Perhaps you can perform a good deed for these lil' Peepers today! Y'know, the single greatest unexplained mystery of the Peep species is that these creatures are always born as conjoined quintuplets (Peepologists suggest it's because, much like pack behavior in other species, it's a natural defense mechanism for protection against predators, since Peeps are usually preyed upon by predators only after they're seperated from their kin.) But with Peeps evolving into our modern society and a new era of medical research, there's no excuse why they can't enjoy individualism. So perhaps you can help perform a safe, ethical Code Purple surgery and resuscitation effort. :)

Finally, I would like to leave you with these intriguing "2006 State of Marshmallow Peeps" survey findings:

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1) Though the yellow-colored chick is the iconic Peep, the Peep bunny was voted most beautiful and bestdressed Peep.

2) Those polled believe that President George W. Bush is the public figure most in need of a Peep - picked by 19.4 percent of respondents. He was followed by New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin (9.1 percent) and New York Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (8.5 percent).

3) The celebrities pegged as most resembling Peeps were media diva Oprah Winfrey and comedian Drew Carey. Just Born officials say neither should be offended - Peeps are fat-free.

4) Respondents preferred eating fresh Peeps over "matured" Peeps by a 3-1 margin. Three percent of respondents prefer eating Peeps frozen.

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Also, for those of you still not satiated of your Peeps fix, here's some more saccharine-stuffed links for you to traverse:

Official Peeps Web-Site

Peep Research (It's Wrong I Tell You.....It's WRRROOONNNGGG!

Peep Art From David Ottogalli

Globetrotting Peeps

Peeps Fans With Too Much Time

Peeps Through History

Peeps Rock 'N' Roll

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XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-15T16:56:00.000-07:00

Take Goethe's Word For It!

Happy Easter everyone! Yep, you can exhale now, the Lenten season has come to a close, and, as it always promises, we only strengthen a deeper friendship to our Lord and through much soul-searching and repentance we unravel more of our true nature and discover spring through our very hearts, which these forty days represent no matter how frigid the days, how torpid the skies, how relentless the winter winds may be, all things are possible and things again can be made new as spring is living proof of the rewards we are blessed with from grazing the fields and our spirits. This is one important reason why I believe spring is the most beautiful of all the seasons. It represents what faith can accomplish, and faith should be everyone’s middle name. If I ever have a daughter, I’d love to name her Faith, as my love for her, as with all children, will always be filled with faith that she will grow rich in love and, though there may be adversity, it will only make her more stronger and angelic as a girl!

Did you know that the Lenten season dates back well to possibly the third century? It always makes me feel so good to see that some things never change, especially the celebration of our Christ (or whatever name you choose to address the Holy Spirit). Originally the Lenten season was a time for the catechumens to prepare for their baptisms, and then it took on a whole new meaning at the end of the fourth century when it also became accepted as a time for the ritual of humiliation for every penitent.

Thus that is how the notion of the Lenten fasting experience as "dying to self" became known, and the liturgical value developed, one in which anyone, men, women, boys, girls, could participate fully in the renewal of life in the celebration of Christ’s rising. It used to only last for eight days, but it became forty, and though I still don’t exactly know why, I think it has something to do with what was written in the Lord’s temptation. Also, I believe Jesus was alone in the wilderness for forty days, so the Lenten season is almost like a ritual drama to me, in which we personify ourselves in the sandals of Jesus, as we are all faithful children of God who just need to rededicate ourselves. Ever so much I am reminded by John 6:60, 66, NIV "On hearing it, many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?'" From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.".

It deeply saddens me knowing that this indeed is a reality many of us face. You always see everyone on their best behavior, dressed up debonair, wearing a muscled smile, and claiming all is well, but that truly is a lie, as life is not always meant to be joyous (you’re probably laughing hearing that from someone optimistic like me, LOL!) but it is the truth. Faith is not something you get out of lying, faith is something you get out of the Truth. I think ever so much people believe if they lie saying they’re fine, they believe it breeds faith and then if done constantly, all the nightmares vanish into thin air. But if that’s true, then there wouldn’t be anything important behind the Incarnation, and THIS is why we celebrate this special holiday. Do you think Jesus was happy suffering from temptation? Do you think Jesus was happy starving and parched of thirst for so long? Do you think Jesus was happy being crucified on that cross? No, not at all, if anything, that was nothing but sorrow, agony and despair. But Jesus didn’t decide to confront all of this so that we wouldn’t have to experience them, He do all of this so He could teach us to take dignity in the little pains of life we may endure. We all indeed suffer. I have suffered in my childhood, I have listened to your stories of tears you’ve endured over the years, and no one can argue that I was miserable being abused and mistreated, but I also believe that those scars have helped me become the person I am today, capable of feeling the pity of others, and I take great dignity in the tears of blood I’ve shed. I also know NO ONE will ever fully comprehend the suffering Jesus experienced, for there will NEVER be an act of goodness that equals or even compares to that of Jesus, but we can be the best people we can become as possible, so I urge you all, if anything on this great day, to dignify your own tears and pains, then, through the edification, share your love to all those around you.

The exact same teachings of Easter are mirrored throughout our society as well. In ancient times there would always be lepers screaming "Unclean!" on the streets, encouraging all others to keep their distance and avoid becoming infected by the impurity also. If you seriously believe that we all have evolved since then and will never commit to such an puerile endeavor, open your eyes, that is EXACTLY what we’re doing each day. You may have never thought of it this way, but we do have lepers all throughout our society, social lepers albeit, who are saddened, all alone, who have faced their inner demons as well and, because they were rejected before, close their hearts to the rest of the world, screaming even to those who wish to help them, "Leave me alone!". They don’t scream that because they really want to be alone, they just fear they’ll be rejected again and go through the same cycle of heartache again. And it’s the same thing with the emotions we feel, we tend to tuck them away when it feels hopeless crawling under that person’s skin and kissing away their tears. Jesus, however, who was hungry, thirsty, cold, betrayal, loneliness, agony, sorrow, and ultimately, death, STILL gave His dignity to ever child of God.

I don’t know about you, but I find that not merely a miracle, but a blessing. How often do you see ANYONE experience virtually every known adversity of the world and STILL have the strength, STILL have the courage to say to every child, "Everything will be alright, my child, this I promise you?". It is incredible. He even gave the demoniac of the Gadarenes his dignity, which no other mortal ever did. The fact is, His suffering was His way to Glory, the Crucifixion the Way to Resurrection. We are all His friends and together we must accept life is joyous, but not only joyous, that we do experience these pains, so may we sympathetically join in fellowship with Christ (or however you address the Spirit) this very day, who now is guiding us with light and love above the heavens.

I feel if you understand just that during the Lenten season, then you have touched His greatness! Ash Wednesday was significant because it is a token of mourning, as in medieval times people would enter the church with dirty, naked feet and they would throw ashes from palm branches blessed the previous Palm Sunday over their heads, placing them on their foreheads in anointment to understand the suffering of others and seek growth through repentance. Maundy Thursday was essential as it commemorates the institution of the Holy Supper, and is the Day of Foot Washing. According to the revered words of the Gospel John 13: 14-15, "You also ought to wash one another’s feet,", it is a time to cleanse of oneself and love one another. As verse 34 is read, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another," as well as, the command of the Epistle, I Corinthians 11: 24-25, "This do in remembrance of Me.", this day is a valued day to me in my Catholic faith for every one of us to love each other in His name! Often on this day baskets are given to the poor, as honored by the Gospel teaching, "Mandatum novum do vobis," Then there’s Good Friday, in which we remember the crucifixion of Jesus, the “Day of the Lord’s Passion”. This is the day when redemption is made, and we mourn Him, in which there is three days of darkness and silence, until this very day, where we celebrate His return, a return of His love, a Love immortal and true.

God Bless You all this very day, and for all of you who have children, share the blessings of this day to every one of them. Candidly, I can say that I do not consider the Easter bunny a lie. Though I agree it has become treated as another deadly commerical widget, the bunny has its value too. As early as the 1500’s in Germany, the bunny has been a symbol of Easter and the Easter Bunny tradition began in the 1800’s. In the 1700’s, the Americans were introduced to the tradition the moment the Pennsylvania Dutch shipped to shore, with many young children anxiously and ebullient for Oschter Haws and his gifts. Asian and Eurasian cultures depict him as a messenger of life, the Celtics as a symbol of fertility and new life, and the Germans as the giver of new life each spring.

So Easter is also treated to me like the gateway to spring, with all of life re-awakening and singing again in concordance. No one is necessarily lying here. The eggs are a symbol of fertility, like the hatching of baby birds each April and May! The decorations of the eggs well represent the colors and blessings the spring offers us, how we intuitively earmark the blessings God bestows upon us all, and celebrating the diversity of life, from polished, tumbled marbled eggs to Ukrainian Pysanki eggs, made from melted beeswax and many different dyes. The Greeks dye their eggs red to symbolize the most precious blood of Christ, the Germans and Austrians dye theirs green on Maundy Thursday to represent the Last Supper, and Armenians even paint religious images and icons on theirs. Polish girls even used to send them to their loved ones to represent their feelings to a loved one, as the fertility meaning behind the egg avows.

All of the other symbols of Easter well imbue with the Easter traditions. The Easter basket originated from the Catholic custom of bringing Easter food to mass to be blessed, with the Pennsylvania Dutch inspiring the “rabbit’s nest” straw and tinsel. The bells represent the light of the world, and they’d sound all year until Maundy Thursday, to sound again on Easter after a time of mourning and celebrating His return, also representing every equinox and solstice too, when a small time when they won’t ring, it is a period of silence to reflect on the past seasons and when they begin clanging again it celebrates light coming back into the world. The Easter lily, or Candidum Lily, represents purity, chastity and innocence, and is the symbol of the Resurrection and Easter because it flowers from what seems as a lifeless bulb, also the symbol of fertility among Greek, Roman and Egyptian cultures and the symbol of the Virgin Mary. The cross and the sheep represent new life. And then, there’s the Lenten wreath, made of rose vines and thistle, which represents the "Crown of Thrones' placed upon our Lord's head by Pontius Pilate when he mockingly proclaimed Him to be "The King of the Jews", with those six white candles representing the six weeks of Lent, one black candle that is lit on Good Friday, and three nails of the nails used to place Christ upon the cross.

So never believe you lied to your child about there being an Easter bunny. The Easter bunny is in us all, as we are all hoppity-hopping about spreading new life and joy among one another.

(giggles) For me, every day I want to nurture my inner-child. G.K Chesterson says, "Happy is he who still loves something he loved in the nursery: He has not been broken in two by time; he is not two men, but one, and he has saved not only his soul but his life." I almost consider “man” to be a blunt, gruff, lackadaisical, crotchety, hog-tying, rather dirty word sometimes. Ever so often men are stereotyped as expected to be strong, stern, rigid, and stiff-necked, and I believe strength is a value, but men should always never be afraid to share their emotions too, and ever so often I see those who are deadpan, poker-faced, stony-eyed, thick-skinned, or, just simply, emotionless. I just have to say to myself, "When I grow up, I want to be a boy forever!". Boys too are being taught not to cry and become men too early, but I believe what Friedrich Nietzsche said, saying, "In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play." And that’s just what I want to do; give the boy in my heart a hug each day and hold his little hand each step of the way. "Children have neither past nor future; they enjoy the present, which very few of us do". I believe in this always, which applies especially today in a time where all you see on newspaper headlines and MSNBC is the war on terrorism and fears of possible terrorism attacks each day. That is not what our children should be hearing. Instead, we should take Goethe’s word for it and ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste again, yay! :)

So I beg of you, now that the spring has come, don’t take what it has to offer for granted. Embrace your inner-child, go outside and toss Frisbees, do the Watusi, at least go on a walk around your neighborhood every once in a while. The admission is free for this cosmic zoo, so take advantage of the time! Believe me, Christ wants it that way for every one of us! Don’t forget all He endured compared to every one of us, yet He still smiled seeing the children. :)

God Bless You All, and...namaste!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-14T12:27:00.000-07:00

Ministering The Egg Of The Phoenix

Mahatmas Gandhi once said, "Every living faith must have within itself the power of rejuvenation if it is to live"

Today is yet another one of those high-spirited days that reaffirm and sinew my great optimism that the love of the human spirit and the magnanimity that is inherent in the deepest region of all hearts alike will prevail over the challenging tides in the long run, as for the first time in more than 50 years, on Wednesday afternoon, a pair of bald eagles hatched a chick on Santa Cruz Island, thirty-five days after the egg was first discovered on this island off the coast of Southern California. This is the first successful, known nesting of a bald eagle on any one of the four northern Channel Islands since 1949, when a chick was born on Anacapa Island.

Bald eagles used to bristle the islands all along the California coast, but ever since the 1960's, when DDT poisoned and polluted their food chain, the populations suffered in result, as this now-banned pesticide had made the shells of their eggs brittle. The damage can still be seen and felt to this day, but this rousing story of birth today has strengthened the resolve of hope in my heart that the spirit, the essence of rejuvenation, remains very much alive in our global community today, and this successful breeding truly is a milestone in renewing and re-introducing bald eagles and other species to regions where they once flourished, that they can again eventually return to their days of previous glory. Deep down I can feel this fountainhead of rebirth and renewal, and though these remain sensitive times and there are undoubtedly other challenges we'll be tested with, this program that the Institute for Wildlife Studies began in 2002 is thriving, which receives money from a $25 million fund to deal with the lingering effects of tons of DDT dumped into the ocean, and this signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix, is boiling brightly with youth.

Another brass tack that makes me upbeat here is that most bald eagles are good, dedicated parents. Recently you may have heard of the inspiring story of the American Eagle Foundation late last month activating a new live eagle web-cam at Dollywood of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, where the eagle parents Liberty (the ma) and Justice (the pa) have laid several new eggs already, and have already successfully raised and reared 13 of their own young for release into the wild since beginning in 1993. Eagles are very territorial and thus make effective defenders of the nest against other eagles and threats, and parenting eagles also spend a lot of time sending materials to the nest, usually beginning in March, the most common month for bald eagles to lay eggs, and the chicklings are usually born in April, staying in the nest until August, begin to balance on branches after turning 12 weeks old, then learning to fly but staying close to the nest, depending on parents for food until they become about half-a-year-old, when they begin foraging on their own. Also, with bald eagles faced with very few predatorial threats, eagles can be very resilient and strong.

In "Parables of a Province", Gilbert Parker wrote that "...for when a child is born the mother also is born again." Childhood and youth wouldn't only begin for the newborn, it also comes burning brightly again to the nurturer herself. Certainly, I have dreams sometimes of being married with my dream girl, and sometimes I see the silhouette of a young child skipping around with us, and because I see long hair waving in the child's silhouette, somehow I feel God is telling me that I will have a daughter in the future, and patience and staying true to my heart will lead me to her! :) Though I'm young and absolutely believe I must not rush ahead of myself and enjoy everything else until that day may come, parenthood truly is a magical time that gives a golden opportunity for mothers and fathers to experience childhood all over again in only a slightly different way, and the laughter singing from the hearts of children truly hits higher on the Endorphinator Scale than any other form of laughter, yay! (does happy jungle gym jitterbug)

I believe the best example we could set for our children is to unconditionally love our peers just as we love our lovers and children, and that is, I wholeheartedly believe, the ingredient of rejuvenation that could soldify every living faith! In taking that same fondness when you're staring at the photograph of your significant lover you're madly and spiritually in love with, and placing that same spirit into the whole world at large, I believe we could cleanse the world of our greatest griefs and sorrows, our own proverbial DDT, and recognize that indeed many of our finest days have yet to come. :) Even with war continuing to affect our planet, the poverty and apathy still affecting our children, as fragile as our environment is, it still takes only one week in spring just to coruscate six directions of green and billions of leaf-buds anywhere in the world, and because, like W. Earl Hall said, "science has never drummed up quite as effective a tranquilizing agent as a sunny spring day.", the force of rejuvenation and love conquers all others, and deep down, because we all have more in common than we do differences, April showers will always bring May flowers...and endorphins! :)

From vastless puddles of white violet, to clouds of snowdrop gumdrops speckling the pastry prairies, to Nature's royal residence lodged deep in the heart of each cabbage rose, to nunny ruckuses of ranunculus, let us take a chance on total happiness.....and pretend that spring is a way of being that spans all twelve months of the year.....and sleep wing-wide upon the air! :) Unless you're steamy TV "King of Queens" housewife Leah Remini putting on quite a slinky cage dance, the world is too dazzling and splendiforous to waste living in a birdcage! The bird is the word, lil' songbirds! :)

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-12T16:27:00.000-07:00

Feminine Frenzying Fingertips Feather Fancying Faces Feverishly

As you can tell from previous threads, orthorexia nervosa isn't the only syndrome I've been withstanding as of late. I have also been for months and months excessively libidinous, torrid with the pyrexia of sexual desire. Again, I keep reminding myself I am the age my dad was when he and my mom gave birth to me, and it makes me feel like a late-bloomer in dating, kissing, having sex, being in love for the first time, as well as reading many stories on the Grok This forum of Passions In Poetry from my fellow poet friends of the first times they had their first kisses and got some, which could make me feel left behind or small ever so often in that I am still single, a virgin and dateless.

Lately I have been making an effort to write poems that try and imagine dreaming, yearning and loving from a female perspective, as I often can't help but feel a sense of guilt that my dream girl longs to be loved and needs a soft shoulder to lean on and because I haven't found her yet and she is still searching wildly as I am, somewhere in my heart aches imagining her longing for someone to take good care of her and re-assure her that the magic of romance is still alive and kicking in our celestial cornucopia. I started writing just now two poems attempting to crawl around in a woman's heart and walk around in it; "Tropics of Cancer" and "Fewer And Further Between", for I feel until I hook up with a girl, it's the only way I could ever get to know girls better and appreciate everything that makes me special, and I guess it makes me worry I know very little about how I should love that special someone without ever being given the opportunity yet to develop and nurture a relationship.

I have a fresh, optimistic outlook in that God has a plan for everyone and there will be an answer for every such enigma as this, and have great faith that I'm indeed not doomed to walk this planet alone throughout my life. I guess the urgency I'm feeling under my skin is that I'm seemingly stuck in the quicksand at the bottom of Maslow's need hierarchy, where I'm just a young dreamer who longs to fulfill my deepest desires, my needs that resonate from the equidistant cockles of my heart. The needs to know what it is to be loved, belonged to another, esteemed, which Maslow terms "deficiency needs". They're like vitamin capsules I need because without them their very absence inhibits any growth, learning experience or help me develop into a more mature, suitable person and lover. I suppose in feeling deprived of the opportunity, the fair shake or serendipity in opening my heart and proving my love is true to a special someone I worship and want to do everything to make her happy beyond my dreams alone, I'll always feel like I'm only half the person I want to be and won't grow to my fullest potential.

I am most proud and blessed to be a Scorpio, but, with any sign, there is a challenge, a riddle to conquer throughout ones life, and Scorpios like me ever so often and easily are misunderstood, and so many tend to be intimidated by our fascination with transcendence, in engaging in the deepest feelings and emotions said to be "like a crystal clear stream, in a cave, under a high mountain." We also can't help but resist having a swivel in the shadows, and looking under so many things, because we're just sensitive and desire just to reach and scratch in far beneath the outer scurvy, shell surface of the scorpion and embrace the intellect of the Golden Eagle and the altruism and love of the Dove Scorpio also represents, which gleams crystal-clear within. I want to be the Dove Scorpio that fondles that magic that exists in the most vulnerable vicinages of my heart, who shares it with all the world unmitigatedly, and many could see this incandescent scintillation in my eyes that can never languish.

:) Simply writing out my thoughts always makes me feel better, as I'm a Sunny Scorpio who always makes an effort and enjoys journeying through the mysteries of sex, death, metamorphosis and rejuvenation, but I've actually been one who loves looking at the lighter side of life most of all as I believe it's seeking the beauty and magic that keeps the world spinning harmoniously. That's why I believe it's through Taurus, the polar opposite sign of Scorpio, that me and other Scorpios find a mirror reflection, for Taurus is ruled by Venus and helps supply Scorpios with patience, nourishment and a greater appreciation for beauty that can help any Pluto patriot find a place in the sun and glide with the butterflies, yay! :) I really am fascinated and love probing through this outlet more than any other in that perfect balance can be achieved, and because Taurus the bull has an absolute love of the earth, it can help soften the Scorpio and let all the heavy fortress walls erode away, yay! All things removed rebirth as something higher, and I believe through Taurus' rejuvenation can always be felt, and forgiveness could also be learned which many Scorpios could often find difficult to obtain. Moreover, with Scorpios like me linked to the root chakra (which represents physical energy and vitality and, when balanced, generated unlimited physical energy, good health and abundance) and the crown chakra (which represents connecting with the Divine Spirit and, when balanced, can have full understanding and appreciation of the conscious and subconscious and can be most transcendent), I have the will able to become that Dove I want to be.

Maybe it's because I'm a Scorpio that also happens to be a Pisces Rising that may explain why I am softer and barely ever show any signs of aggression and just want to see the absolute good in everyone, even when it may be difficult to trust most people. Those with Pisces Rising are also known for being unaware of how they appear to others, because Pisces is ruled by Neptune, the planet of illusion and imagination, and why I always daydream of my dream girl soooooooo much in fantasy worlds and such, and why I'd rather see the world as I want to see it rather than how the world really is (that may explain why I'm very poetic, LOL!), and why, like I'm feeling right now I guess, I may feel isolated or a little sorry about myself sometimes. (giggles) Come to think of it, as I've said before, I have small hands and feet like a dolls and am not a very strong person physically, and being a Pisces Rising might explain that too, LOL! :)

My dreams of my dream girl continue to get stronger, more romantic and wetter, and I just long ever so much to not just see my dream girl in my dreams and the joy she gives me through the mirror of Taurus, but I long to live and be all that I see and am raptured with. I think I'm just approaching this the wrong way, and am not unaware where I need to search, where I should go to look, whether it be that special someone or just to acquaint myself with a girl. Ever since I've moved to Portland, I've struggled to re-connect with my Colorado friends at Denver Academy, and that has made me feel a bit lonesome, and while I'm absolutely blessed to be with KBOO and all the comforting, friendly, super-cool volunteers there make it feel just like home, I haven't exactly formed a real relationship or understanding with anyone, and I long to form deep, colorful, sparkling relationships, to be loved and be loved by others. I dedicate many hours keeping KBOO flittering like a butterfly in the community not just because I absolutely believe in making sure everyone is heard and represented, but because I find community and nurturing community absolutely essential and I want to form happy interactions with others and give back to this very community I feel comfortable and alive in. :)

Every night before I fall asleep, I always blow a kiss to my dream girl, wherever she is out there, from my bedroom window, imagining, wondering if I will meet her in a sandbox, at KBOO, at the Japanese Garden or maybe inside Ben & Jerry's on Free Cone Day for my fix of Neapolitan Dynamite! (sweeeetttt!) (giggles) I want to know more than anything else in the world what it feels like to be loved, how it feels to walk to the Lloyd Center light rail station holding a loved ones hand and not walking alone for the first time, how it feels when it's raining and you forgot to bring a raincoat and you hold someone close softly just to keep that special someone warm, seeing that very soft reflection of firefly light gleaming in that loved ones eye of just how heavenly that warm feeling can be. And I want to give about every single ounce of stamina and passion in my heart to make love to my dream girl in every meaning of the word, to keep her happy, warm, comfortable, secure, healthy, and cumming! :)

Hopefully I'll find her this summer, or by the end of this year. Wish me luck, just as I wish all of you the deepest, greatest happiness each and every day, and ladybug lullabies to kiss the child in all of your gleaming, glorious hearts, yay!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-11T15:50:00.000-07:00

Think Of The Drummer As A Commander

Domo Arigato, Kpalogo! I'm athrill for a new English class I'm taking this trimester at Portland State University: English 308U: Dance In Literature. Yeppers, here's just that kind of English class that gets you to spend more time in the air. Maria DePriest is the instructor of this sprightly seminary, and specifically her class focuses on African connections in "New" World Literature and Dance, both through the trials and stories of violence and separation in their communities, and through the pleasure and unification that would soon follow, as well as how certain narrative strategies and certain myths in literature like Toni Morrison's "Beloved", Suzan-Lori Park's "Venus" and Nilo Cruz's "Anna in the Tropics" are also articulated in dance forms including lamba from West Africa, rumba from Cuba and samba from Brazil, and finally seeking connections among context (the middle-passage & slavery), consciousness (of slavery as the point of origin for Africans in the "new" world) and contributions (Africanist aesthetics as a primary shaper of artistic expressions of the Americas.).....all right behind Door 221 in Cramer Hall! (does happy inter-cultural cha-cha) Stay tuned in future entries as I tell you more of my thoughts on these fabulous texts, yay! :)

What makes this English course especially titillating is that we also have to attend four dance classes throughout the course, and we get to write of our experiences in what we learned in each one and connect them to the readings, yay! :) This English course is as kinetic as they come, and what a way to both inhale the essence of the written word and arabesque as the athletes of God we are together...if there is any dove-tailing more enchanting than this, not even pinching me will convince me! (giggles)

Anyway, last Thursday on a partly-cloudy two in the afternoon, when I was amidst my 46-hour long orthorexia lapse, DePriest took me and my fellow classmates over to the Native American Student and Community Center on the southwest edge of the campus, with its scenic backdrop of the hedonistic, luscious West Hills, where we gathered together in the Nimiipuutimt Gathering Area to be aspersed in our first dance class experience. We rendezvoued with Okaidja Afroso and his Humanities 399 class "Ghanaian Dance" in the alcove, who was also accompanied with three instrumentalists, including two atsimevu drummers (the lead Ghanaian drum which is approximately four feet tall and eleven inches in diameter) and one gangkogui performer (a gangkogui is the name of the Ghanaian double bell). The instrumentalists sat on one end of the alcove, beginning to play a steady rhythm, and I joined approximately twenty-five other students on the floor to learn a Ghanaian warrior dance.

It began with a more muted rhythm, where we stood still and upright, then began slowly lowering our knees and slowly rising them again, then began rolling our shoulders in a sort of cycle-like motion, then rolling with the lowering and rising of our knees, then side-stepping and moving our hands from our thighs to our waists in a cyclic motion and it was about that time where the rhythm upshot into crescendo and we became immersed in a hodge-podge of other exciting dance sequences, from the kicking-up of knees to the alternating rise of elbows in pendulum-like procession.

After that introductory sequence, Okaidja offered some implicit, valuable advice that resonate at the nexus, the soul, of Ghanaian dance. The first instruction he gave is that "Nothing is practical!" He said that if you think too hard in the dance, you'll always be out of sync with the rhythm, and, essentially, when in doubt.....dance, as dancers truly work and live from the inside. Secondly, he advised to "think of the drummer as a commander" and let the rhythm carry you like Nature takes Her course, for when you are one with the rhythm, as my idol Shakira says, "hips don't lie". (winks) Finally, Okaidja said that, veraciously, it's quite often the simple moves, to some the "boring" moves, that are the most important in the dance, for each simple move is a ligament of the voice, the culture, the dance, and are what choreograph and complete the language of the dance, for it is understood that repetition is a key ingredient to the dance because it puts an emphasis on the earth, that, as Kariamu Welsh Asante says in "Africa Dance: An Artistic, Historical and Philosophical Inquiry: "This emphasis on repetition reveals that the community is attempting to express the perceived stability of its environment." (65). Therefore, dances vary throughout all regions of Africa, with western coast communities performing dances that involve lots of rhythm-like motions that represent recollections of the sea, to those in more agricultural communities which use their feet more, like they're tilling the soil. So if you're most interested in pulling a relevé and showing off your grand jeté you learned at Arthur Murray's Dance Studio, the alcove isn't the place to do it when the synchronity Ghanaian dance offers is in motion! :)

I was delighted to have joined the rest of the dance session, for I felt myself really getting into the rhythm. One particular dance sequence I really felt I connected with is this eight-count dance routine, where you’d leap off your right leg and land with your right foot forward, gyrate counter-clockwise with your right-hand over your left shoulder, finish the spin facing to the right, crossing over your right-foot with your left-foot, then raising your right-hand up with your head staring up at the horizon, then moving back forward in an alternating 1, 2, 3 knee motion (left, right, left) and repeating the process. I felt that was an effective preliminary exercise to get used to the rhythm in movement, and if I could keep up with the motion in that, I could eventually inhale in the whole breadth of the dance’s rhythm when I have the opportunity to take a course like Humanities 399! :)

Ghanaian Dance (and African dance entirely) is truly fascinating, in that dancing truly is an international, intercultural language and expression of a physical and psychological aesthetic that allows people to give meaning and context to their utmost hopes and doubts, joys and sorrows, courages and fears. African dance is so richly diverse in that in one form it can be so spontaneous, like some sort of Pavlovian response, in moving to the beat of a highlife rhythm, while in another form it can be an elaborate, long-term rite of passage that has been legacized for centuries in homage to a community or tradition. Pearl Primus even wrote that "the true African dance is basic in subject matter: birth, death, puberty rites, marriage, hailing a new chief, discovering evil spirits, detecting criminals, praying for rain, sun, strong children, good harvest, good hunting, victory in warfare, success in love, revenge, protection of the gods, honoring the ancestors, and play..." The drummers themselves are revered as the griots of their community (or western African storytellers) who are like historians and entertainers welded together in one body.

Of course, with the many struggles the African community were subjected to, including ethnocentrism and lynching, many African dances have significant political contextas as well. Pearl Primus choreographed "Strange Fruit", a protest against lynching. The Urban Bush Women also wrote a number of politically-charged dances, which particularly questions, "How does sex, race, class, status and politics come to affect perceptions of power and powerlessness in urban centers?" South African gold miners to this day perform dances that make testimonial the struggles they face each and every day, exploited under a rigid apartheid policy. Thus, dance has important connotations with internationalism and cross-cultural awareness and helps achieve greater communion with one another, for indeed as Merryl Brockaway said, "Artists lead unglamorous daily lives of discipline and routine, but their work is full of passion. Each has a vision and feels responsibility to that vision.", and I am so proud to claim responsibility for recognizing this grand vision of life.

So I entreat for you to dare to do something different every once in a while, and make every effort to let the tears of pain and happiness blend in with your sweat, and espouse with the polyvocality of life's poetry through all its aesthetics. For indeed, in every endorphin you invest in, there's an unspoken microcosm of grace, and that very fluid ounce of perfect contentment could light up the floor at the Dopamine Discotheque! (giggles)

Groove is in the heart, and rest assured that is no sermon from a church of the poison mind! (giggles) Nope, just some harmless politics of dancin' for ya! :) Try your luck, and whatever you do.....don't be a cluck! Heh-heh-heh!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-10T13:05:00.000-07:00

Fear The Unlived Life...And My Unstoppable Mad Fog Machine Skills!

Holy Shinto! On Friday, someone certainly chose to go beyond living like a sheep for a lifetime, and truly roaring like a lion for a day!

It appears Aquinas High School religion teacher Mark Koehne earned the most money of any teacher for Cash for Cancer last Friday. Aquinas’ National Honor Society started the campaign a month ago to raise money for three students, two of them still in school, who’ve been diagnosed with cancer of the lymphatic system. They initially aimed to collect $1,500 in donating to this philanthropic cause, but ended up raising $6,500 and presented the check Thursday to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. The vice-president of National Honor Society at Aquinas, Sara Kerrigan, currently continues treatment for her cancer, where doctors recently discovered new tumors near her cheek. She’s expected to undergo two weeks of radiation treatment and, possibly, a bone marrow transplant this summer.

In celebration of him earning the most cash of any teacher for Cash For Cancer, Koehne went backstage, and...well...let's just say he fell just a few lilies short of a shojo-ai! (giggles) Yep, sword and mind became united, when he leaped out of the night in his shorts, flipping nun-chucks, conjuring a monsoon of steam from a dry ice machine across the stage, chasing a phantom opponent, flipping the chains from hand to hand in blinding motion. Then he dropped the nun-chucks, landed cartwhells all across the stage, went all Harlem Globetrotters with a basketball, hula-hooped in a most frenetic motion, and put on a grand finale when he hurled cinnamon roll shuriken at students in the audience. Apparently on this very day, it was easy to spot all kinds of black belt enthusiasts in the crowd; they were all collecting the bags of cinnamon rolls like Marines on roller skates! Waaahhhhh!

Maureen Breuer, English teacher and Honor Society advisor, also noted that a number of teachers had offered to perform acts of humiliation to reward student donations, and speculated Koehne earned the most because of a misunderstanding. I guess when we forge our bodies in the spirit of our ancestors as Koehne did, there could always be such misunderstandings because, after all, as is written in the Kentucky Fried Movie: Fistfull of Yen playbook, in doing that we are creating a fighting force of extra-ordinary measure, ha ha!

Holy Furitama indeed! I used to take martial arts classes back when I lived in the Centennial State. Down on the corner of 29th and Sheridan Boulevard in northwest Denver, you'll find a sacred school I used to attend known as Progressive Martial Arts (official web-site is located above) where I learned some basic Chinese Kempo Karate, Indonesian Pentjak Silat katas, self defense, grappling and kickboxing skills. R.J Everett was my original instructor, who I most enjoyed having as an instructor and was as warm and friendly as a big Build-A-Bear Workshop teddy! He was my instructor a majority of the time I attended the school, where I learned several katas including Hard 1, Hard 2, Short 3 and Mass Attack, and went from a white belt to a brown belt. Eventually R.J Everett resigned, which was kind of sad to see but I got to see R.J Everett numerous times after that at karate tournaments and in the front parking lot on Saturday afternoons, and Roberto Cisneros and B.J Villanueva (he dated my sister for a while) became my subsequent instructors until I left the school.

I initially took interest in attending the school as I was told it would be a wonderful way to improve my motor skills, and how they certainly did as I learned to employ my mind as a mirror and understand from Hui-Wu that "the whole world is a door of liberation." And I will always have memories of many New Years Eves, when I rang it on in by participating in doing Kilo Abs (1,000 sit-ups, 2,000 on Y2K). Even as I have been out of martial arts for about four years now because of my growing disenchantment with the school in that it got increasingly competitive and seemed to care more about winning tournaments than harnessing the meaning and poetry of understanding the "empty-hand", perhaps even now I can manage to singe some leg hairs! (giggles)

Another event which may have slowly diminished my heart in Progressive Martial Arts was when I participated in a grappling tournament the school hosted known as SLAM! which is regularly held at the Denver Convention Center just off of I-25 and 58th Avenue just north of Denver, and shortly into my match-up, I shattered my left clavicle and was left in terrible pain, and had to be carried out of the convention center and taken to the hospital, where I wore a swing for a few weeks. That event stuck to me and startled me somewhat, and that was the point that led to my decline in interest in the school.

Part of my heart has interest in returning to martial arts classes, but merely just to learn to further enhance my state of mind, balance, self-respect, respect of others and perhaps being able to answer Zen Koan's question, "How do you step from the top of a 100-foot pole?" Nonetheless, I hold true to my heart fond memories of my many peers at the school, completing physicals loaded with push-ups, sit-ups and squat-thrusts, heading over to Gas 4 Less across the street for Gatorade at 2 P.M after every day of classes, attending the PMA Picnics down in every August and playing volleyball in the sandbox and chess with fellow students while drinking down four or five Pepsis, etc.

So from the wind between the wings of a thousand cranes to Izanagi no Mikoto (or Izanami no Mikoto for you frmales, yay!) let that cinnamon roll shuriken fly, be sure to see from the valley rather than from the peak, and abjure the why and seek the how. I see the sun has managed to perforate the clouds right now so I'll have to soak myself in this how!

Immerse yourselves in nakaima ("in the middle of now") young grasshoppers! I've been there, and when I'm in nakaima, I am the world's strongest coffee candy!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-08T15:05:00.000-07:00

Orthorexisaurus Rex

Even those who are most optimistic and happy about themselves could experience times of imbalance and insecurity in their lives. Back when I lived in the suburbs of Colorado, as much as Colorado will always be a home to me and many of my fondest memories will be of enchanting places like Hanging Lake, the Glenwood Canyon and Chaco Canyon among others, I also felt socially isolated being swamped in the suburbs, with nowhere to walk to and no one to really communicate with. Most days I'd just stay indoors all the time, watching Cartoon Network and, because I used to be a carnivore back then, I did eat a whole lot of meat, as well as many snacks throughout the day. I've never been obese or even overweight in my life, but I ate a lot back when I lived in the suburbs and my weight in comparison with all other American males my age was slightly higher than the average (55-60% percentile)

Now, ever since I've moved to Portland, Oregon and have converted to vegetarianism, my eating habits have radically shifted to the extreme. To give you an idea of how radically they've changed, last week my scale recorded I weighed 132.5, indicating I have lost 27 pounds since moving here. I became a vegetarian because though I admit I did indeed enjoy the taste of most meats as a child, I have also always loved animals and I did always feel a sense of guilt when I ate venison jerky on occasional weekend trips to Rocky Mountain National Park, and sesame chicken at the Tea Garden Chinese Restaurant back in Arvada on the corner of Ralston Road and 62nd Place. In fact, I have always felt so sensitive about animals that every Easter when I got Marshmallow Peeps as a boy, I could never eat them because they just looked sooooooooo cute and innocent.

My feelings of guilt began particularly in 1998 when I read in the Denver Post that at an Excel Corporation beef plant in Fort Morgan, Colorado, production was halted for a day tha year after workers allegedly cut off the leg of a live cow whose limbs had become wedged in a piece of machinery. U.S inspectors launched an investigation, and found in subsequent stories that the plant had been part of a string of violations fr the two years before as well, including the cutting and skinning of live cattle. And the more I heard of increasing slaughterhouse abuse of animals over the years, including chopping hooves off live cattle at IBP plants, the more I cried reading those stories, and I knew I just couldn't stand for this anymore, that even if I knew my intentions were good and I never wished endorsing these acts from the beginning, unfortunately the mighty dollar can go to allow these things whether you like it or not. I wanted to get this superficial blood off my hands, so several years ago I called it quits and have been a proud vegetarian ever since.

However, as can be expected from any 180 degree turn, it can radically change or alter your regular habits as well. The truth is, I am coping with an eating disorder in what is commonly known as Orthorexia nervosa, a term coined by Steven Bratman, M.D which continues to be debated, which he defines as "taking the concept of healthy eating to such an extreme that it becomes an obsession." or a "fixation on righteous eating." He adds that sometimes orthorexia can go beyond a mere lifestyle choice, and "progress to the point where it crowds out other activities and interests, impairs relationships, and even becomes physically dangerous.", and in the event that happens, "orthorexia takes on the dimensions of a true eating disorder, like anorexia nervosa or bulimia."

I recently realized I have a mild or moderate case of orthorexia when I found myself recognizing myself in questions including, "Do you wish that occasionally you could just eat, and not think about whether it’s good for you?" and "Has your diet made you socially isolated?". I believe I'm absolutely strong and capable enough to prevent my fixation on healthy food from generating ego conflicts toward my peers who do eat otherwise and such, but I have been struggling with other aspects, such as skipping foods I once enjoyed to have what is "right", and by limiting the times I eat more than ever.

This week, I didn't eat on Tuesday or Thursday, putting me in one 42-hour period and another 46-hour period without eating at all. On Monday evening, I had these delicious vegan wraps with sesame hummus, sweet potatoes and artichoke while running the air room for the KBOO Pledge Drive, and didn't eat again until Wednesday afternoon, when I walked across the Willamette River on Burnside Avenue to KBOO after my morning "American Fiction III" class and enjoyed some curried potatoes, peas, garbanzo beans and artichoke hearts from the Blossoming Lotus cafe. Then I had a package of Thai Pavilion Citrus Rice Noodles for dinner, but didn't eat again until last night, when I made some rice at home.

The week before, while helping out the KBOO News Department during Spring Break, a local cafe provided some salads, and I had a spinach salad topped with raspberry dressing and hazelnuts, and my super-cool chihuahua friend Lisa Loving, who is the KBOO News & Public Affairs Director, said, with the exception of the occasional cookie I eat of hers because she's a super-cool friend who loves baking daily batches of cookies from chocolate-chip to oatmeal to snickerdoodles, that this was the first time she saw me eating at KBOO.

I'm truly not trying to turn into Lindsay Lohan, and clinching my fingers over a self-destruction button in my body, nor am I meaning to try and set a bad example for the youth community out there in struggling with this eating disorder. I guess the main driving factor behind my battle here is that I've had a growing fear and/or distrust toward many foods with the way the FDA has gotten all tangled up in red tape and lobbying and has went reckless over accountability and oversight of food products, while Monsanto now owns 1/3 of all organic seeds in the world and are among a wide number of forces encouraging the proliferation of genetically-modified organisms, including in Kellogg's breakfast cereals where the oil used in them are coming soon from genetically-modified soybeans. Throughout my life I've had a distrust and scare of aspartame (found in NutraSweet, Splendor, Equal and other sweeteners) of beverages like Kool-Aid which have cancer-causing agents worse than red #40, among other things. I want my body to be purified from these cyclamates and synthetics, and want to rely on Mother Nature's recipes to effloresce and ripen in this world; carrots to keep my eyesight sharp, oranges and pomegrantates to make my immune system a fortress, yohimbe bark and ma huang to keep my sex drive volcanic red-hot and 100% organic, and when I make love with my dream girl for the first time, I want her heart to quiver above 130 beats per minute, shower her with endorphins that relax her and make her fall into a blissful deep sleep, ejaculate and make blood flow to her skin to make it glow more vibrant and healthy than ever before, without ever touching Levitra or Cialis.

I just want to say for those reading who are coping with a similar disorder or are considering following this path, please make an effort to find balance in your life, as balance is essential for everyone to ensure a healthy lifestyle, especially for children and young adults, and as my dearest angelic friend Earth Angel said, "You have so many things yet to do in life and you need the health, strength and vitality to do it!" I've promised her I'm vowing to make an effort to moderate and balance myself more, and I'll be a Scorpio who will overcome living in extremes and find solace living more in the center! Benjamin Disraeli said, "The secret of success is constancy to purpose." and I will get right down to the root of the meaning of the word and follow through! And not just because it's All Is Ours Day either! (giggles)

So I beseech you, continue to stay away from Splendor sweetener, but don't hesitate to enjoy a nice bag of Honey Dijon Kettle Chips once in a while. Best you limit getting wallopped with Hawaiian Punch, but, hey, who can't resist a slab of cookie dough on a weekend? And for all you women out there, saw palmetto is one wonderful ingredient in promoting sexual health and female functions, siberian ginseng helps sustain energy and sweeps away that cortisol, and histidine and Vitamin B-6 are what helps the histamine domineer your body, guaranteeing the best orgasmic experiences and the shiniest flush to the natural skin, but a little chocolate fondue body feast or a candy G-string can be just as satisfying! (giggles)

National Jelly Bean Day is rapidly approaching this April 22nd! That'll make one marmaladic, eyewashing, infectiously confectious opportunity to let live with your taste buds without much guilt! (giggles) Until then, if you spend too much time warming up, you'll miss the race, and I'm racing to the refrigerator to get me a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup or two!

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2006-04-06T15:59:00.000-07:00

Look Who's In Full Feather Now, Charlie!

Cetus Lapedus! Has it really been four months since I last exuded the endorphins here?

Blogging certainly is a demanding and thorough task. It really is like your own sort of parenting. Bill Cosby even once said, "Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope." It's never easy as sliding off a greasy log backward; it does indeed require a balance of time and creative vision. I've just been as busy as a stump-tailed cow in fly time since the holiday season, continuing to corral and lather myself up in Vitamin D, continuing to just stamp my Birkenstocks out on the sidewalks of the world, and practicing whistling louder and louder even with a sandal full of slush. But spring cleaning is a must once a year, and that's exactly what I'm doing here; bedizening Mr. Miyagi's poetry in motion, waxing on and waxing off this screen like a white crane penetrating wasabi winds, and oozing all those endorphins back to you via Pickle Feather Express, yay!

I shall have plenty more new entries to come, so keep your starry dolls eyes peeled! To tide you over, here's some new poems, yay!

*

The Ornithologist
By: Noah Eaton
1/30/06

Homecoming immigrates with the wind,
solitude and thunder abruptly rescind,
how is it that you can build,
yet leave all as it was without skill,
teach me to use all talents I possess,
each moment unsung is a damsel in distress,
how is it you can soar over every ridge,
while holding all your mystical baggage...

All around, I hear nimble minstrels,
translation is beyond our control,
the genesis of all emotion,
libidinal winged lyrics set in motion,
wearing a green bough on my sleeve,
emancipating myself on the qui vive,
summoning my sabbatical leave,
from nests of last season where we’ve misconceived...

Surrounded by thousands of God’s truths,
watching all flighted youth profuse...

The ornithologist sings after every storm,
living with voices that we never hear,
birds only land in the hand that doesn’t grasp,
to understand you must volunteer,
to understand you must volunteer...

Brought together by the Great Mystery,
never to be documented through natural history,
the cellos that challenge symmetry,
with unrehearsed, playful carpentry,
from the low branch that God provides,
for the fledgling still learning to fly,
everything has long been in place,
whenever you believe there’s always breathing space...

Surrounded by thousands of God’s truths,
watching all flighted youth profuse...

The ornithologist sings after every storm,
living with voices that we never hear,
birds only land in the hand that doesn’t grasp,
to understand you must volunteer,
to understand you must volunteer...

Constantly wrestling just to touch base,
grace is something you cannot chase,
it comes like a kiss with a Queen Anne’s lace...

The ornithologist sings after every storm,
living with voices that we never hear,
birds only land in the hand that doesn’t grasp,
to understand you must volunteer,
to understand you must volunteer...

*

Taboo Ragout
By: Noah Eaton
1/27/06

Hinder me with unkempt silence,
smoothen each fissure,
with effortless artisanship,
like some supposed sorority dentist,
let your catuaba kick in,
dolled up in tumultuous providence,
dandified in your unorthodox leisure,
painting the untamed lily,
just so I can see your cheeks,
rouged in Indian summer.

Shadowboxing with first impressions,
dubbed in dwarf sunflower dialect,
no attempt of image compression,
can encapsulate all your worldly respect,
your Spanish jasmine aria,
has left me with myriads of side effects,
cajoled to your capricious allergies,
infecting each millimeter of my lips,
with each one no poet has classified.

Muting out all white noise,
so all I can hear is you breathing,
re-acquainted with ancient orchids,
knowing I’ve loved you,
long before we were born,
regaling each scoop of taboo ragout,
in our imbued pas-de-deux,
stricken with Xanadu flu...

…spicing expressionless syllables,
with marigold prophecies,
and feminine touch...

*

The Chameleon’s Chemise
By: Noah Eaton
2/6/06

Full-blooded tidepools coquet,
with eleven virtues of jade,
exposing your pure and prolonged,
sempiternal lingerie,
fetching fire from the sun,
ushering in the sincerity pageantry,
in torrid fan dance I’m tangled up,
impaled by your zealous chastity...

Magpies quaver in your kidneys,
burning high with unrestrained choreography,
with dizzying divertissement,
penetrating me with each ravishing thrumming,
your temperature responds to my breath,
perspiring every color in wanton wake,
as your unbridled Indian-paintbrush lips,
drip with saw palmetto berry tea breaks...

Pacifist agony, gusty glances,
bend and break with your refulgence,
daisy chaining with the whitecaps,
misty petite potpourri pleas of indulgence,
appeasing affinity for salacity,
exposed in sandbars of Venus-looking glass,
but all mystique our technique,
all mystique your boutique...

…putting me to the test,
possessed by the emotional lingerie...

…behind your misty, chimerical chemise...

XOXO,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)

2005-12-06T11:44:00.000-08:00

A Hell Of A "Heluva"!

Jambo, jambo! Nothing like having two happy days all wrapped up in one single package and tied with a fat satin ribbon, for today is Happy Gazpacho Day AND Happy Mitten Tress Day, and I am simply just sitting back after conquering a cavalcade of flurrying finals early this week and soaking my senses up in the succulent ruminations of Andalusia, while also channeling my libido into skipping out of the house and promoting the pitch for philanthropy, which include starting up Mitten Trees; where area residents are encouraged to contribute items to the tree so other families may also have a bright Christmas, which the mittens and all other clothing items are hung up as ornaments on each tree to then later be delivered to needy families before Christmas. If you're local and you love to knit, donate some hats, mittens and headbands, and spread the magic. :)

Hey, next time you come glissading into the kitchen like a gazelle in your rush to work and you are looking for something that's portable and you can eat fast, what'cha gonna pick up? A bran muffin perhaps, perhaps an Eggo omelette? Wrongo! You need something that conjures your most daring depths of dopamine; a paradigmatic parfet that can polish and prank your prodigious palette, and also something you can furnish your thermos with. Radio people like me do it with frequency, LOL, and there's nothing like gazpacho to both offer me the repose of cilantro and get my endorphins fired up with the garlic gusto and serrano seduction! :)

The history of gazpacho is rooted in the southern Spanish Shangri-la of Andalusia, where this liquid salad, made of ripe tomatoes, bell peppers, cucumbers, garlic, and bread moistened with water, then blended with olive oil, vinegar, and ice water and finally served home cold. It is Andalusia's best known dish and is said to have originated as a soup during the time when Spain was part of the Islamic world in the Middle Ages. It was then the Spaniards called it ajo blanco, which contained garlic, almonds, bread, olive oil, vinegar, and salt. Ajo blanco is today associated with Málaga and made with fresh grapes.

In the acclaimed publication Marquesa de Parabere, it claims that garlic soup constitutes one of Spain's two contributions to soup making, while the other is cocida or olla, which migrated to France as pot-au-feu. Therefore, it comes to no surprise why, to this day, gazpacho comes in a variety of different ways, some of which contain almonds, some with no tomatoes and peppers (tomatoes and peppers came to gazpacho after Columbus), some with my signature blend of red chile paste and cajun spices, etc. :)

To this day, the origin of the word remains one puzzling question that continues to plague both gastronomists and food freaks alike, but etymologists believe it might be derived from the Mozarab word caspa, meaning "residue" or "fragments," an allusion to the small pieces of bread and vegetables in a gazpacho soup. Whatever its origin may be, the syllables certainly can scream like Celia Cruz! :)

So how'd gazapacho creep across the world like kudzu vines and take the world hostage? It's said to be the result of Eugenia de Montijo, the wife of the French Emperor Napoleon III in the nineteenth century. Who knew?

Gazpacho has also invaded pop culture as well, from the science-fiction Red Dwarf, when one character is lost in a radiation leak with his last words being "gazpacho soup", and when resurrected as a hologram and was told to explain why these were his last words, he recounts his tale of humiliation as a young officer cadet, in which he embarrassed himself in front of senior officers by complaining to the waiter that the gazpacho soup was cold, and ends up eating a "bowl of piping hot gazpacho soup"...to The Simpsons, when Lisa, becoming a vegetarian for the first time, announces she has made gazpacho for all, and Barney Gumble replies, "Go back to Russia!" (giggles)

So remember, O' fidus Achates; NEVER, under any circumstance, nuke your gazpacho, in sparing yourself of any embarrassment that can scar you for life. There are no rules to how you can prepare this liquid salad in terms of ingredients (but there better be garlic in mine, LOL!). And finally, if you need someone to share some gazpacho with, Eugenia de Montijo has all the time in the world! (giggles)

Finally, I'd like to take a moment to talk with you about gender, LOL! Courtesy of my wonderful poet friend and sidekick Nancy Lee (she goes by the name Enchantress on Passions In Poetry, yay! :) ) and a host of other anonymous guffaw spam-cadets, I have this to share with you! :)

***

Subject: Gender

Everything Has A Gender. You may not know this, but many nonliving things have a gender.

1) Ziploc Bags are Male, because they hold everything in, but you can see right through them.

2) Copiers are Female, because once turned off; it takes a while to warm them up again. It's an effective reproductive device if the right buttons are pushed, but can wreak havoc if the wrong buttons are pushed.

3) A Tire is Male, because it goes bald and it's often over-inflated.

4) A Hot Air Balloon is Male, because, to get it to go anywhere, you have to light a fire under it, and of course, there's the hot air part.

5) Sponges are Female, because they're soft, squeezable and retain water.

6) A Web Page is Female, because it's always getting hit on.

7) A Subway is Male, because it uses the same old lines to pick people up.

8) An Hourglass is Female, because over time, the weight shifts to the bottom.

9) A Hammer is Male, because it hasn't changed much over the last 5,000 years, but it's handy to have around.

10) A Remote Control is Female. Ha! You thought it'd be male, didn't you? But consider this - it gives a man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and while he doesn't always know the right buttons to push, he keeps trying!

***

(giggles) Hey, are y'all hitting on me here? Ohhhhh...I can read all your taste buds like a Zip-Loc bag when its 72 and sunny out! LOL!

Happy Gazpacho Regurgitations to all, and.....oh yeah...lemme give you a mitten as a warm token of my appreciation, friends!

Love,
Noah Eaton
(Mistletoe Angel)
(Emmanuel Endorphin)