The Difference Between Cult and Religion

Might be at least partly related to how much of said 'trip' is believed by the followers and, more importantly, how many followers you have. I'm preparing to do an interesting gig with interesting musicians playing the music of the Process Church of the Final Judgement, a cult formed during the 1960's in Britain. They composed their own hymns, which sound a lot like Christian hymns except they worship Jehovah, Christ, Satan and Lucifer. In reading the book that these events are promoting, written by a former member, it's hard not to draw comparisons to John Krakauer's excellent "Under the Banner of Heaven", if only to note the similarities in Joseph Smith's story, which was at least equally as ridiculous and hard-to-believe. So it certainly must take just the right combination of what Krakauer calls "religious genius" and um, 'receptive' individuals to get the combination just right.

I'm feeling just enough challenge and comfort in this situation, learning lots of simple tunes where I'm called upon to play a free-ish version of acid rock, plus do lots of chorale-style singing. I'm especially looking forward to Halloween in Seattle, seeing friends in Portland and of course doing a record with some great musicians, especially my old friend Anders Nilsson, a monster guitarist.

The end of pet-sitting

I only took it because I suspected (wrongly) that there'd be very scant income in August. Of course it's all relative I realize because all my income really is scant in the grand scheme of things. But taking care of the barely 1.5 year old Golden Retriever for about a week seemed innocuous enough. The owner was moving her family and herself to California and needed someone to help with the transition. This bitch had a team, I'm not fucking with ya.

She balks at my price (around 37 bucks a day, shit, a fucking bargain). She agrees to it though when I explain how fucked up pets get when their masters disappear. No talky for weeks leading up to the date of arrival (and her departure). Okay so I get in there and she's talking it down. Big Park Slope place but at this point it's almost barren of furniture. [Details overlooked on visit: fridge overflowing with lots of old food. Cupboards full of snacks, most of which at least somewhat stale.] Doggie must have people around. Doggie have bad infection which requires antibiotics, plus hotspots for which there is a spray, and doggie is wearing a cone because she is licking and agitating hot spots. Oh yeah and Polish super will bust in at any point to feed cats, forgot to fucking mention a big crew is coming to paint starting on the second day. Didn't really think ahead that the fridge repair crew would call to confirm, but that the ground line was unplugged and so appointment was cancelled. People will drop by to visit the dog, make a fucking mess and leave it for you. Oh and I didn't have time to change the sheets or even think to leave clean ones on the nasty futon which you'll be sleeping on. I also will skip town in a hurry when all is said and done and 'forget' to pay you your balance. Them's the breaks

"My son is 16 and might come by with his friends and drink beer, if this happens you must call the police".

Kozkusco the super might decide on a whim to give Goldie a bath.

[the cats have a door to the outside of the duplex apartment through which they can enter and leave the building. at one point, the cats dragged in a (still living) bird resulting in bedlam]

hot tub you can use if you can figure it out, but the water is nasty and the whole back yard is fucking neglected and fuBar.

cable tv but only useable until day 2 when the painting work renders the living room useless.

--- on top of that i'm still waiting for the second half of the dough.

i'm sorry

Dear ____,

I'm sorry that I have not heard back from you since going out last week. Perhaps I got a little too excited since you are 1) a redhead and 2) a whopping 9 years younger than me. I've since expunged your number and put myself in hot pursuit of other chicks.

Maybe if we'd had some kind of follow-up evaluation afterwards you could have pointed me in some positive directions, besides your short-shorts, the most obvious place in my opinion. Seems I'm surrounded by an incredible amount of young females lately and could have learned from my mistakes.

In any event, I wish you luck in achieving your acting MFA and hope to see you on a taco commercial in the not-too-distant future. I think that you realized early enough in life that it wasn't such a good idea to forsake your acting career to working in a knish shop in Midwood, just to stay married to Shlomo or whatever the fuck his name is.

Mazel Tov,

Daniel

P.S. Does the carpet match the drapes?

just blow

My neighbor is an artist that works with glass blowing. Outside of the stuff you see at the county fair, I haven't seen artistic glass work in the making. Apparently she's really good and does performance style, where the molten glass is dripped over a steel umbrella and molded by the artists underneath. I'll have to check it out.

So last night she had a post-Labor Day party and I was invited. I often cringe at the idea of going to parties where I basically know no one, at least if I have to go by myself. But the sweet potato quesadilla was good, and so was the brined roasted pork loin with cherry stock. Most of the company had some connection to glass blowing, which just seems like the most esoteric of all things esoteric. I never really did like hanging with big groups of visual artists. And how is it possible that so many people still smoke cigarettes? One of the last things I remember hearing, in a crowd of 30-somethings, was "don't pass that joint by me, I'm not a loser!!"

Other mishaps included being ensnared into a heated debate on the merits, or lack thereof, of Guns 'n Roses. What was so wrong with me that I couldn't understand how Slash was the most awesome of guitarists, and how his soloing was like somebody singing?

This is where we are today: I find myself among people obsessed with reality television, and keen on celebrity culture, expensive restaurants, and how awesome it is to go to Amsterdam and smoke grass. I've spent the better part of my adult life being embarrassed that I had similar values in college. Funny thing about NYC; you can meet such a diverse range of people and yet parties often feel very balkanized. It's off-putting. I don't like the idea that you have to 'do time' with a gang to break in. It's a by-product of youth, and of this I'm certain because I've been a guest at parties of the older generation as long as I've lived in town and the atmosphere is completely different. They used to exist as a way to meet new people, but now they mainly celebrate a group of friend's inside experiences and exclusivity.

Anyway next time I'll bring my wing man.

TAPAS for dinner is so late 90's

Sushi too.

Met some friends for a special dinner at some expensive TAPAS restaurant in Chelsea. The small plates were priced anywhere from 5-30 dollars. The median line was somewhere between 11 and 15 though. 2-3 plates per person was the suggested ration. I should have been clued in to the impending doom of the bill by the staff's impeccable knowledge of every dish. It seemed like every dish I ordered was ridiculously small or, as in the case of the pork ribs, which were served in small pieces, bone in, there was a lot of inedible stuff around the tasty morsels on the plate which rendered it small in efficacy with regards to hunger. I think it is so 90's to go out to eat for 'nuance' and extravagance above basics like satiation. The big clunker of the night was an order of lamb chops, served in traditional Basque style with the fat on ("you must cut it away yourself and some customers aren't used to that). The huge chops arrived 95% gristle with just a few nubs of munch-worthy flesh.

The 165 dollar tab for four people included only 1 glass of wine (and many glasses of seltzer). I left still sort of hungry. This is a restaurant for a decadent earner, a better economy, a casual pitstop for a hedge-fund manager.

Frankie Vali vs The Beatles

My mom claims to hate the Beatles. She can't really articulate why, but she prefers Frankie Vali's music because of it's melodic content. When I counter that the Beatles were never for wont of melodic content she acknowledges this fact but she attributes it to taste, what she's familiar with, etc. The truth is I have very little invested in convincing her or anyone else to like what I like or hold my views at all.

But it was interesting to note, in the show "Jersey Boys", which is really good as Broadway shows go, that there is a sort of division created against British Invasion rock. Tommy DeVito, who narrates much of the story of the Four Seasons' rise to fame from Jersey obscurity, explains how they were the sound of the working class while the Beatles was the music of choice for people looking to "levitate the Pentagon".

It brings to mind the current political climate. The right-wing somehow connects with 'working' Americans while the erudite left is represented by the Democrats. Neither seems very accurate to me as both parties are in fact supported by similar if not the same sources of money. The powers-that-be must love watching situations play out like this past week, where Barney Frank of Massachusetts held court with some wacky lady who flashed an image of Barack Obama altered to look like Hitler, calling health care reform a Nazi policy.

The Beatles and the Four Seasons, meanwhile, made millions of dollars, got plenty of pussy and smoked lots of weed. The suburban kids outside of Newark thought Mr. Vali was singing about them. The stoners in Washington Square Park thought John Lennon was singing about them (maybe he was). Up to you to decide whether "Rag Doll" is more working class than "In My Life".

Up to you to decide whether an eviscerated version of the health care initiative, sans any public option, is really worthwhile or even the slightest bit productive. Most experts I trust don't believe it is. In todays Times, Krugman explores the idea of Obama being a 'fake progressive' and it's hard not to disagree. (Full disclosure: I already thought he was a fake progressive for a number of reasons). Of course most so-called conservatives aren't really conservatives in their embrace of right-wing religious agendas, egregious spending on prisons and military and many invasions of privacy borne of the previous administration.

So in a sense it's what team you most identify with. Was your dad a Republican. Are you a Yankee fan? Do you fancy a shag haircut or something a little more 'conservative'?

Having failed at most other jobs to one degree or another, I've been thinking about what works for me about teaching. I think in teaching, or more to the point in learning, the student wants to feel respected. It's not some super deep psychological ploy, just basic respect. Kids feel disrespected by their teachers, which may be an unavoidable consequence of academic environments. I rarely encounter discipline issues except for lack of home practice. On the other hand, adults want to be treated respectfully and feel they have space to learn and grow, since the work environment can often have a wilting effect on the psyche and body.

Each session is an interesting study for me in what works, and what doesn't work. Just as in the study of music, the the study of yoga reveals holding patterns. In my own practice and when I teach, the edge is what a student must learn to feel. We learn to play a passage at a tempo that is not so slow, for instance, that it is boring, but not so fast that it is impossible, or more precisely unsatisfying. These various shapes and directions we move the body in during asana practice shed light fairly quickly on weakness, tightness and our working habits. Do we grip and tighten more in the presence of pressure and adversity? Do we overwork one area while another collapses?

Just as the philosophical underpinnings of yoga speak to connecting with the purusa, or soul, the vulnerable piece of us which becomes exposed in practice can be a force of unification. Few things appear more universal than suffering in its many forms. Perhaps nurturing that basic approach is one of the more satisfying elements of teaching. Before you know it, some of your pupils have matured into true practitioners. All this means is exactly what it sounds like: they practice regularly. They have a repertoire of songs they play and improve upon. They write, sing and play their own music. Teaching and learning are clearly inseparable, and perhaps one of the cornerstones of civilization, however undervalued they may be.

I don't feel undervalued though.