27 August 2015
Blog Article #69
I can’t think of a title. Might this be so since I can’t think of any substance either? Perhaps I should just put my hands where I can see them and slowly step away from the keyboard? I can’t, I have something inside me yearning to be free. Maybe it’s just gas? It’s in the pit of my stomach, someplace behind my bellybutton, over to the left…no wait, that’s my spleen…more left, now down, deeper…deeper…there, see it? In the pit of my groin, somewhere in the murky muck of my mad desires, there’s a feeling that needs to be expressed. The problem is that it’s a feeling which cannot be expressed with words…I tried painting, music and dance too, none of that worked…but it won’t stop and writing is the next best thing to taking matters into my own hands. That’s never a pretty sight and it always leaves me less than satisfied than before I started…despite knowing that I love me. Yeah, I need that human touch, more than just a touch too…I’m talking full body contact, blunt force sex!
I’m not going to be delicate here and if you’re offended by mild mommy porn perhaps this might be a good place to stop reading…I’ll be sure to avoid any shade of gray, I tend to think in pulsating vibra-color when it comes to my sexual desires. I’m not a freak, although I will admit that I’ve tried and done some pretty far out things during my day. I’ve fully explored my sexuality, I’ve dabbled in sex with male partners and multiple partners, I was pegged before pegging was even pegged with a name. Leather, lace, latex, rubber and nylon…I’ve been submissive, dominant, a voyeur, an exhibitionist and used to enjoy porn before it was served up fresh daily on my laptop; it was way more weird and fun to go to a porno theater with a chick than watching it in the safety of a television. I have been with women from every race, I have been with women 20 years older than me and 20 years younger than me too and I still don’t have a favorite flavor of women (they’re all yummy good)! I had days of Roman orgies and have been celibate for years at a time too but these days I delve into my mind for my greatest satisfaction and I’m pretty certain sexual energy is very close to divine energies. I believe that fidelity may be the best relationship, but that doesn’t mean monogamy works for everybody all the time. I’ve never been the possessive type, but I despise apathy in all forms and when I care about someone, I need them to care about me too…or suck my cock exceedingly well!
I’m very oral as a lover, I love the taste of flesh. Not just the skin, but the other body fluids too…well, almost all of them, but I really enjoy gliding my tongue through a woman’s secret, delicate folds…exploring her quivering, trembling, moist places of her cunny and the honey dripping from my lips as my fingertips firmly grab her soft ass, squeezing it tightly, raising her hips slightly, gripping her mightily and slightly teasing her for hours on end…I love the ass too, that puckered little very sensitive spot, when the tip of my fingers and tongue dance slightly, a fancy lightening crosses my mind when I taste the sweet/sour as those juicy feelings flow freely between the cheeks, spilling all over the sheets. I love making a mess of it too, what’s the point of clean sheets if not to make them dirty with passion? I love nipples, especially as I hold them close to each other while rubbing the soft skin on the downy of my salt & pepper beard…the neck, the ears…those lips, those eyes…like some guys, I have variations of this practice too. I like the smell of burning cannabis and pussy…when she smokes a joint, or even a cigarette while I’m performing oral pleasures it’s a strange twist I like once in a while…I like the aggressive lover who uses my face as a play toy, sitting and squatting and squirting over head in bed until she collapses upon me, a heap of dead weight wasted with passion.
Yet she only comes to me in the crystal moon rich dreams of every man’s desire, but she comes to me like no other. She and I have perfect harmony, it’s a magical, mysterious connection neither of us understand so neither of us bother, we’re just going with the flow…I know, and I think she too might suspect this, but I could wait forever because I’ve got time. There will be a spell, a place or space and a same time, next year rendezvous and I like to think there’s more, but there not be anything at all. Some may say it’s smoke and mirrors, a vanishing vision of my irrelevant imagination and others simply call me a fool, a noble romantic on a cupid arrow shooting spree…but for me, in my heart and soul, I know somewhere, someplace, she is still out there and so I continue to roll with tide…a man with dreams as big as I needs a women of vision to help see it to life; until then I think I’m doomed to stumble in the dark.
So here I am, alone late at night, I'm fairly certain she too looks at the moon and wonders about what is and what could never be...or could it? It doesn't matter, it's time for this frustrated lover to snuff out his love light and pray-tell perhaps to dream about new, arousing sexual heights...
Born in Chicago, I’ll Die a Californian Always Hoping for Far-Flung Hopes and Dreaming Improbable Dreams, I'm a Lover of Deep Dish Pizza But Terminally Allergic to ALL Social Media Streams. If You Contact Me, I Will Respond and If You Call Me I’ll Be a Happy Old Dancer Because Nothing On-Line is Real, All of It Just Numbers and Code…It Won’t Give You The Answer You Wanted and It Ain’t No Home for You or Me…Just Be In The Moment, It’s All We Really Have in The End.
26 August 2015
As Above, So Below
dphilipchalmers.net |
Exploring The Metaphysical Worlds... |
My mother’s gypsy aunt, she grew up in the remote hills of Armenia, first exposed me to these ancient arts & sciences. She was a palm reader, she did complex charts of our astrological signs, she exposed me to the ancient meanings of the tarot and she had this was of looking at people, almost as if she could see their soul, their past or future, she was an amazing, entrancing woman. Later, as a young man tripping across the country following the Grateful Dead, I had for a while a traveling companion who read tarot cards and did numerology readings for people while I cooked them a grill cheese sandwich or sold them a t-shirt…it was her gig, her craft and I always enjoyed learning more about this secret science. Being the kind of freak I am, I also read every single one of my friend’s books on the subject…and then a few more…that’s why she stopped traveling with me, I think…I remembered what all the cards, numbers and signs meant better than she did. I couldn’t help it, I’m a freak who remembers everything.
This my Tarot Card...what's yours? |
As Above, So Below... |
Now Hiring a Business Conductor! |
Perhaps it’s in the stars for me to feel a bit silly, sorry…or not, who cares? Again, my friends far and wide, deep and shallow and casual voyeurs at large, I’m a bit restricted to my on-line communique due to technical issues with my Android device…the touch screen is not operating well, it’s not responding and when it does, it freaks out…I’ve had problems with apps freezing/force stopping also…in particular G+, Flipboard and my text apps…I can, of course, use this nifty XPS, it’s both a laptop and a tablet, but I just don’t feel that geek in me, not lately…so I’ll deal on the technical issues and be a bit limited regarding when and how long I can catch-up on-line…but thank you for your comments/+, I do hope everyone is fair well and healthy, happy, at peace and safe…
As Above, So Below and my Love, now I go!
Peace,
d'Philip
26 August 2015
The San Joaquin Valley
Republic of California
Earth
Born in Chicago, I’ll Die a Californian Always Hoping for Far-Flung Hopes and Dreaming Improbable Dreams, I'm a Lover of Deep Dish Pizza But Terminally Allergic to ALL Social Media Streams. If You Contact Me, I Will Respond and If You Call Me I’ll Be a Happy Old Dancer Because Nothing On-Line is Real, All of It Just Numbers and Code…It Won’t Give You The Answer You Wanted and It Ain’t No Home for You or Me…Just Be In The Moment, It’s All We Really Have in The End.
17 August 2015
Fear and Loathing In The Palm of Your Hand
dphilipchalmers.net |
Cut The Cable, Cut The Cord! |
Information at the fingertips... |
Over the past so many years, as my interest in both social media platforms started to develop beyond the conscripts of Facebook or Myspace, I was enjoying the interactions and sharing of information I got through my handheld Android unit. Streams of news, from Fox to Alternet, from ABC/Disney to RawStory, I felt empowered by the vast perspectives I was reading while on the bus! I took pride in knowing that we were no longer subject to the main stream media fodder. I was pleased to know that the average citizen, like you or me, could find and disseminate the news for ourselves. Then, like realizing there’s no fucking way the tooth fairy or Easter Bunny could be real (nobody told me, I figured it out myself), I realized this form of information gathering, despite my diligent efforts to garner a multitude of viewpoints, was not much better than television. In fact, since I started thinking about this last summer, I’ve come to the conclusion that the social media platforms, even the unfiltered ones like G+, reddit or ello are not much better than AM talk radio. Like assholes, everyone has an opinion and like talk radio, some assholes think their opinion doesn’t stink! I follow FoxNews, for example, but if I question a story, if I express a dissenting thought, it’s like a dumb-fuck call-in barrage of closed mind and often hateful expressions. The same is very true when I express something contrary in any of the liberal forums; people don’t want to debate, discuss or try to enlighten each other…indeed, they all too often seem to want to beat you into submitting to their train of thought and if you don’t, you are everything they despise! The fact seems that most people don’t believe in anything but they’re determined to have you share in their beliefs! People take what they find on-line, true or not, and build upon it like a twisted technological version of the childhood game of “telephone”; where we sat in a circle, one person whispers something to another person who in turn whispers to another and each time the whisper is repeated, it changes and becomes something other than what was first whispered.
Meet the New Media, Same As The Old Media... |
After fully engaging in this form of media myself over the course of so many years, I am resolved to the notion that it’s not any better than any other form of media when it comes to exposing truth, justice or solving any of the planets very significant problems. It’s sad, it’s an awful shame that once again we’ve wasted the opportunity to use technological advancements for the advancement of humanity. We could have changed the world with radio, again with film, television and the list continues but we didn’t, did we? No, we gave the “public airwaves” to the government to manage for us and they sold it off to the point where we no longer have freedom or control over those “public airwaves”; hell, we can’t even watch local television for free anymore! We deployed a standard and practices to provide acceptable guidelines for decency in programming, but that’s become a form of censorship and we are manipulated by advertising and propaganda delivered by corporate driven media conglomerates. So much for the “public airwaves” giving a true “voice of the people”, it’s nothing but a con-game to fleece you and me of our money, time and ability to clearly, freely think! Worse still, over time the technology has become so much more pervasive in our lives. Radio, in its heyday, was most often shared in the family room, during certain hours. Television, in the early days, was the same way. It was one television in the common area where everyone gathered for a few hours at a time but radio shifted to be a little more personal, it was in our bedrooms or cars too. Television becomes smaller, more portable and so does radio; eventually we have hand-held radio with headphones, boob tubes in the bedroom and by the time the personal computer age dawns, it’s a natural for intimacy! Before too long we’re reading and sharing stuff on-line in our underwear while in the comfort of our bedrooms!
Another decade and the technology does nothing but get better at capturing our attention, it’s now in our pockets or, more often, in the palm of our hands! We have not only the ability to watch television on the bus, in the park, on a smoke break at work; we can fucking record, edit and publish television ourselves…all on the same bloody devices! We can communicate with people far and wide, around the world despite language barriers because our hand held devices will translate everything for us…but does it bring us together? Do you understand a person in Palestine’s plight any better? Does the average Joe in Germany know what it feels like to be a black jew in Texas any better? I have friends around the world, I try to share my very American experience and perspective with them and I am always learning about their points of view from their corner of the planet; but for the most part still, we’re part of the same choir, we already had things in common and shared similar thoughts…so are we really building bridges or just crisscrossing the bridges that are already there? I have tried to reach into communities where I am not typical, I made a point to challenge my own beliefs and levels of social comfort to gain a new perspective, learn something different. I have failed miserably because before I get a chance to understand the feelings of being a Dixie raised American, I’m first “outed” as being some kind of liberal, Yankee egghead Jew (none of which is accurate at all) and then dismissed, lambasted and rudely, almost violently attacked for simply asking a question. It’s insane, it’s not healthy and it’s nothing other than more fear and loathing in the palm of my hand!
What to do about this, I wonder to myself, how do I want to deal with this feeling I have? I don’t have an answer just yet, like I said, I like to think through a matter before I move my piece on the board. I’m not finding the satisfaction I used to find, I’m feeling more relaxed, calm and clear thinking when I’m not on-line. I find a good deal of frustration, I sense an alarming rise of anarchy, I feel a collective sense of malaise and it feels like we’re living in some kind of twisted psychotic fugue state of fear and paralysis. Everyone finds problems but few suggest solutions, I look to find something positive to share every day but as I’m combing through an endless stream of meaningless memes, video clips of violence laced with hate baiting rhetoric and a whole lot of blame being spread from every corner of the social spectrum, it sort of feels futile to share the stories I find. I also get sucked into the entire blame game too, I stumble across an outrageous story so I share it with hopes of sharing something I found which I think is truth only to ignite a firestorm debate, rendering any form of productive dialogue mute by the single, small minded conscripts of the contemporary social media platform; we’re back on AM talk radio levels! More importantly, I feel disappointed in myself for buying into the blame game, the trickery of this technology that twists truth and turns perfectly normal people into blabbering divots, we’re still just powerless peasants. This is Fear and Loathing in The Palm of Your Hand, are you going to do anything about it?
A Status Update from d'Philip! |
Peace,
d’Philip
17 August 2015
The San Joaquin Valley
Republic of California
Earth
Born in Chicago, I’ll Die a Californian Always Hoping for Far-Flung Hopes and Dreaming Improbable Dreams, I'm a Lover of Deep Dish Pizza But Terminally Allergic to ALL Social Media Streams. If You Contact Me, I Will Respond and If You Call Me I’ll Be a Happy Old Dancer Because Nothing On-Line is Real, All of It Just Numbers and Code…It Won’t Give You The Answer You Wanted and It Ain’t No Home for You or Me…Just Be In The Moment, It’s All We Really Have in The End.
14 August 2015
A Friday Flashback…
Official 2014 Publicity Image |
Okay, well I’m writing this from the back patio chill space, that’s where this photo of me was taken exactly one year ago today (14 August) and although I might look happy because of the smile in this picture, in truth, I was more stressed, less satisfied and about to lose my cool when that photo was taken for the back cover of my book (“My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On..”). I feel better today, in this moment than I did when that photo was snapped, so again…no sympathies, please! I have no plans for the day, unless you count folding laundry, cleaning house and reading a plan. To me those aren’t really plans, they’re obligations, they’re responsibilities, mere chores that are required of me daily so I never plan for them I just do them route function style. I left the dog out back for the morning, he gets in the way when I’m in the “white tornado” mode of cleaning. I let him back inside in a spell, but for now…here’s the photo and a simple wish for you all to have a good day, a splendid weekend and be good to those you love because one day you’ll need them to be good to you in return!
Peace,
d’Philip
14 August 2015
The San Joaquin Valley
Republic of California
Earth.
Born in Chicago, I’ll Die a Californian Always Hoping for Far-Flung Hopes and Dreaming Improbable Dreams, I'm a Lover of Deep Dish Pizza But Terminally Allergic to ALL Social Media Streams. If You Contact Me, I Will Respond and If You Call Me I’ll Be a Happy Old Dancer Because Nothing On-Line is Real, All of It Just Numbers and Code…It Won’t Give You The Answer You Wanted and It Ain’t No Home for You or Me…Just Be In The Moment, It’s All We Really Have in The End.
09 August 2015
Garcia’s Dead.
dphilipchalmers.net |
This excerpt is from my book “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” and I present it today on the 20th anniversary of Jerry Garcia’s untimely demise. I am remaining #offline (more or less) for the remainder of the week, but I couldn’t let this day pass without sharing it with some of you, my Deadhead friends…Enjoy!
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An Old Logo... |
“What?” I was pissed, I thought he was acting like an asshole or something, “Fuck off.”
“No, seriously d'Philip,” Gleason's tone changed slightly, a note of compassion resounded as he repeated, “Jerry Garcia is dead, he died this morning.”
“What the fuck?” I still couldn't comprehend this, he was saying Jerry was dead? How could he be dead, I thought, he was just here in Chicago a month ago, he couldn't be dead. I shook my head, “Stop fucking with me Mark.”
“No babe, it's true...” Kelly sat down next to me, draped her soft arm across my slumped shoulders and whispered, “Jerry Garcia passed away this morning in a rehab center in California.”
“Kelly, he just turned 53, like last week!” I felt tears welling up, my voice started to quiver and I had echoes of other tragic moments in life, “No fucking way, Jerry can't be dead, can he?”
“It doesn't surprise me...” Gleason again sounded harsh, cruel, “The life he led, he's lucky to have made it as old as he did really.”
“Fuck off Mark!” Kelly snapped, “Just go away!”
“You don't have a clue, man, Jerry was like...he was like...” I was lost for a description of what Jerry Garcia meant to me. This was another of those most profound passing which had an impact on my state of mind, like the deaths of my friend Todd or John Lennon, Jerry Garcia was an iconic, sort of father or big brother role model for me, I was devastated. “Man, he was keeping this dream alive, this scene, this everything I am, it was because of him, him and Kesey.”
“Is Kesey still alive?” Mark asked but he was talking to his buddy, “Or is he another dead artist too?”
“You're a fucking asshole, Mark!” I shouted, stood up and went to my room while Kelly followed close behind. I fell onto the bed in tears, “I can't believe Jerry's fucking dead!”
The Split/Apple on a hot Saturday night in '95... |
John Kadlecik at The Split/Apple in '95... |
When Jerry died, something inside me too passed away. I lost that fire for what I was doing at the time, I didn't feel like I liked to feel about myself and I started to exhibit more symptoms of my BiPolar Disorder. I started to make some very irrational and seemingly random decisions that had an impact on everyone around me. I swept chaos throughout the lives of many, never realizing the damage I was doing because, being in the eye of this emotional cyclone, none of it seemed to affect me very much. There was a strange event in September that included a kid from Alabama who was selling freshly harvested, still very wet and not yet ready to be consumed psychedelic mushrooms. He parked himself next to our ticket table with his shoe box of mushy black mushrooms and sold them to the kids visiting the loft to see “Ralph’s Kind”. These white bread suburban kids, without even thinking, simply washed the shit tasting mushrooms down with bottomless cups of beer until, sometime just before midnight, things got way out of control. It started first in the bathroom, a girl got sick and puked all over the toilet. There were two other girls in the bathroom with the sick chick and they too started to puke, one in the bath tub and the other in the sink. As the vomit soaked girls came screaming and smelling out of the bathroom, into the dark and very hot loft, other people got whiffs of their vile stench. Before we knew what was happening, there were kids throwing up all over the place. They puked on the dance floor and several people slipped, fell and squirmed in the nasty slime. They started puking too which made other kids run to the few windows, they hung out the window over Michigan Avenue, two or three at a time, everyone spewing projectiles of black mushroom, used food, beer and stomach acid. The band stopped, the house lights came on and The Split/Apple crew got rude by forcibly kicking people out into the streets.
The Open Canvas Art Wall at The Split/Apple |
That October Mark and his crew of people presented me with a cake to celebrate the first anniversary of The Split/Apple, but I wasn't very impressed because of my aggravated mind. Two weeks after that we had a smashing big Halloween show featuring a couple of Grateful Dead tribute bands and a costume party. The Friday after Thanksgiving we held our second annual “Split/Apple Leftover Jam Party” where the price of admission was a plate of left over Thanksgiving food. We then invited several homeless people from the neighborhood inside for the night, served them dinner and performed music, skits and played games with them. For Gleason and his group of friends, that was the last straw. They didn't appreciate my bizarre sense of generosity and took offense at making their home a hang-out for homeless folks. I didn't give a shit, I felt like I related to the homeless people better than the kids I lived with so when the first week of December came around, Mark gave me thirty day notice, he and his friends were moving out after the first of the year.
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Jerry like I remember... |
The death of Jerry Garcia started a chain reaction for me, it was where those namby pamby trippy dippy hippie parts of me started to shrivel up and die off...like so many old flowers from a forgotten daisy chain, my innocent and youthful hope began to wilt, fading like old childhood dreams never to be dreamed upon the same again. In the story I continue explaining how I did my last acid trip, how I gave up the whole Split/Apple vision and eventually, lost mind a few times as life played it's treacherous plot out before me; but Life Goes On and here I am, you too, some 20 years later. I'm still moving in the same general direction, how about you?
Alright, well there are things to do and people to meet, so I need to move on and I'll catch up with the on-line realm sometime before mid-week. I'm feeling very grounded in my tactile, real world experience these days so I'm going with it for a while...if I don't see/hear or speak wit you too soon, no worries, I hope things are as well for you as they are with me and take care, be well and stay safe!
Peace,
d'Philip
09 August 2015
The San Joaquin Valley
Republic of California
Earth
Born in Chicago, I’ll Die a Californian Always Hoping for Far-Flung Hopes and Dreaming Improbable Dreams, I'm a Lover of Deep Dish Pizza But Terminally Allergic to ALL Social Media Streams. If You Contact Me, I Will Respond and If You Call Me I’ll Be a Happy Old Dancer Because Nothing On-Line is Real, All of It Just Numbers and Code…It Won’t Give You The Answer You Wanted and It Ain’t No Home for You or Me…Just Be In The Moment, It’s All We Really Have in The End.
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