Lets get personal….
Hey, this is now my PERSONAL blog.
Which I am happily failing at keeping updated.
But there are still some choice posts here if I do say so myself.
The reason I am latent is because I have another blog that I maintain,
on my
BUSINESS WEB SITE:
RITAMA DESIGN ~ A FORCE FOR GOODNESS
Rob Brezsny and the Sacred Uproar Prayer
Rob Brezsny and the Sacred Uproar perform live at The Marsh in San Francisco. “Prayer for Us” is part of the soundtrack to Rob’s book “Pronoia is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You With Blessings”.
Love it.
Jackson Browne
Just back from his concert – gawd, he is SO GOOD, and it was an excellent, magical show – what a dear heart.
They’re made out of Meat by Terry Bisson
This is one of my favorite sci-fi stories 
“They’re made out of meat.” wrte your stuff here!!!!
“Meat?”
“Meat. They’re made out of meat.”
“Meat?”
“There’s no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They’re completely meat.”
“That’s impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars.”
“They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don’t come from them. The signals come from machines.”
“So who made the machines? That’s who we want to contact.”
“They made the machines. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Meat made the machines.”
“That’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You’re asking me to believe in sentient meat.”
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they’re made out of meat.”
“Maybe they’re like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage.”
“Nope. They’re born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn’t take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?”
“Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside.”
“Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re meat all the way through.”
“No brain?”
“Oh, there is a brain all right. It’s just that the brain is made out of meat!”
“So… what does the thinking?”
“You’re not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat.”
“Thinking meat! You’re asking me to believe in thinking meat!”
“Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?”
“Omigod. You’re serious then. They’re made out of meat.”
“Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they’ve been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years.”
“So what does the meat have in mind?”
“First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual.”
“We’re supposed to talk to meat?”
“That’s the idea. That’s the message they’re sending out by radio. ‘Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?’ That sort of thing.”
“They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?”
“Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat.”
“I thought you just told me they used radio.”
“They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat.”
“Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?”
“Officially or unofficially?”
“Both.”
“Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing.”
“I was hoping you would say that.”
“It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?”
“I agree one hundred percent. What’s there to say?” `Hello, meat. How’s it going?’ But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?”
“Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can’t live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact.”
“So we just pretend there’s no one home in the universe.”
“That’s it.”
“Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You’re sure they won’t remember?”
“They’ll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we’re just a dream to them.”
“A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat’s dream.”
“And we can mark this sector unoccupied.”
“Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?”
“Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again.”
“They always come around.”
“And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if one were all alone.”
Please visit Terry Bissons web site, buy his books and read some more of his fine work!
Kate Miller-Heidke, Facebook song
Now you wanna be my friend on Facebook? This is hysterical.
Spencer Tunick
Why is it when there is ONE naked person, everyone freaks out? but if there are 18,000 of them, it’s not a big deal?
I believe it’s that quantity thing – once something becomes a bit incomprehensible, like the numbers get too large to process, your brain just acquiesces.
http://www.spencertunick.com/index.html
Web Designers Unite!
Here’s a short article on the Web Designers Unite! group that I am a part of:
Click link or read below
Web Designers Unite! article
The full article is on my business blog A Force for Goodness
Sophia Taco Negro
While looking for the light,
you may suddenly be
devoured by the darkness
and then find the true light.
Jack Kerouac
Sophia Taco Negro
January 1996 – May 15, 2009
Beloved friend, companion and hearts delight.
Missing you my darling girl,
more than I can ever say.
My dear friend Merry B sent me the following letter, it’s beautiful…I hope she writes my eulogy…
Dear Sophia,
Thank you for your presence on the planet. Your intrepid sense of adventure, every molecule of you alive and present and sensing. Your spectacular ability to bask. The level of enjoyment you took in the world. Your love of junk food. You added a silliness, elegance, and intrinsic joy to our world in a perfectly unique Sophia manner. I’ll miss that.
Things you taught me that I will try to manifest: it’s good to start the morning with a bang; and it’s hardly necessary to be to be effusive with one’s affections all of the time. That a girl can play hard to get…or, not play anything at all. And the gift of your leavetaking, of course: this sharpened sense that loved ones come and loved ones go, and I must appreciate them here and now and hold them lightly.
Thank you for all you gave and all you taught Ritama. The depth of that intimacy is sacred, and unknowable to anyone outside it, and I bow to it. I know that all you were and all you gave was the perfect gift to her. Thank you for a life of service to one I love.
Go well Sophia!
Don’t let this innocent look fool you….
Snoozing on the porch – a favorite spot
Attitude Galore
