in Ukiah...

 I likely will be up here a week or two. The 72 Beetle made the drive last night in much better shape than the Spring trip, (when the bug staggered into town, spitting oil, clutch slipping etc.) with not one moment of clutch slippage or engine sputtering. Still, Oil and Water don't mix as my anti-fracking poster that still doesn't have a wall to be hung on  reminds me. Who hold the key to global warming and environmental destruction... ? me. Still can't let go of my car.

 100 degrees outside the Ukiah library, hard to find a parking place in the shade in Ukiah at least around the library. Walking from the Ukiah Food Co-op to the Library I found the Grace Hudson Museum near 'The Sun House'. Stumbled into the soul of Earth, Temple... Grace Hudson was a Potter Valley born artist who resided here... the Sun House was she and her husband's lovely home. This museum is a must see for the few
Planetary wanderers who know that the greatest beauty is always near at hand. A wonderful collection of
fine woodworking/furniture from the College of the Redwoods where there school of woodworking is as fine as you might find on the planet. Then I notice a room with native American Basket weavings.... Amazing. How come I no longer own a digital camera? Basket Weaving. The Pomo Indians had a population of about 15,000 around the time of the European arrival. The Pomos had about 70 different villages each with their own distinct independent traits language variations etc. The Miwoks of Marin numbered about 5,000. The basket weaving is as stunning as European masterworks of any kind in my opinion.

 Then into the next room where. I meet Grace Carpenter Hudson Wow! Never heard of her before from a California of the turn of the last century. Zing arrow into the soul.

  In the meantime I see that my friend from the last visit up here, Mike Zee is hosting an open Mic at the Ukiah Brewery and Restaurant tonight. I should make it out. Last night got a good farewell in at the open Mic at True North Pizza, with Simon Costa. I did a quick set of Elizabeth Cotton's Freight Train, Otis Redding's, Dock of the Bay, and Elvis's That's Allright Mama . Carole Isaac joined me on flute.

 In Franklin's tower there hangs a bell
It can ring, turn night to day
Ring like fire when you lose your way

Roll away... the dew . . .

God help the child who rings that bell
It may have one good ring left, you can't tell
One watch by night, one watch by day
If you get confused just listen to the music play

Roll away... the dew . . .


 The following some lyrics to the Jerry Garcia /Grateful Dead tune 'Roll Away the Dew'

Typewriter in a cabin..

It's true, though now I have taken that copy from last night and I will do my best to transcribe it.

Last night I wrote:

'Where the words of one lonely man in a small cabin ( more like a kids clubhouse, nicely finished off 8x12, no running water, a respectable distance from the main house) have more power than even he might dare believe.

There is great satisfaction or at least some satisfaction to find myself banging on this ancient typewriter.
(Brothers electric model)

What is the nature of the technological changes that we are barreling through time with?

The nature of these changes…? Like some madcap cartoon where Bugs Bunny is laying down track, railroad track, at an insane pace animated pace always just one step ahead of the barreling locomotive.. Technology. The tracks that the Bunny is laying down is the connection to nature. Frantically keeping a giant snowball rolling as it gathers more mass (population) and goes through it's magic metamorphosis,
culture and technology. How do we hold to nature?


How do we deal with the phenomenon of our time, that was predicted 50 years ago? I am thinking of Alvin Toffler's Future Shock (Actually I didn't read this book. I held it to my forehand like Johnny Carson as the great Karnak… Future Shock… What is it when you wake up and 40 years have past.? The Club of Rome's 'Limits of Growth' …. Shoemaker's 'Small is Beautiful'. ( What can a person do to
help bring about the vision as Shoemaker had postulated.. 'Plant a tree.' Shoemaker replied. Democracy, Freedom and creativity thrive in decentralized healthy communities. Aldous Huxley shared his vision Over-population with the loss of humans owning and controlling their own land leads to tyranny.

Some AutoBiography

To set the record straight ... 'Where you from?' People in my cab sometimes want to know.. Sometimes people think all cab drivers are from


some foreign country. Sometimes there is a bit of an underlying challenge

like you are a newcomer. Nowadays that would be from a youngish person here in Marin. Newcomers not quite the same as someone who was born here (or there). 'Where you from?' Frequently I've been defensive a bit -- it's a legitimate question though. From.. well most people

mean where did you grow up. Maybe they really just want to know where you were born.



I was born in New York, New York.. Manhattan. The Flower 5th Avenue Hospital. That what it was called. Apparently it no longer exists. In the early years of living in Marin County California I noticed that being from New York City evoked a peculiar (but maybe not so) overtone of -- disdain

maybe I fed into that with my own insecurity. I didn't want to be 'a New Yorker' after all I had moved with my family to Round Pond, Maine before I was two years old. Still ' Where you from?' mean't yup I'm a New Yorker' in general I say I'm originally from the the North East - New England and New York. Our family moved around a lot. From Maine to Harrisville, Rhode Island another beautiful little village in the North West corner of the smallest state.. So who's your team my new kids on the block asked me as I played my first baseball game with them Red Sox or Yankees? Red Sox I said. First Graders. Must have been Ted Williams or the color of the sox was cool or something I picked up the year before in Round Pond.

Then up to Arlington, Massachussetts.. 65.8 miles away and now I was a 4th grader and the kids had insane accents.





'The Rape of Marin, they let the New Yorkers In' Thank God I didn't walk into a show by one of the early and only Punk Rock bands out of Marin County that song might have sent me home crying... My friend Jim #64 of Radio Cab played bass for the band 'Wet Nurse' and relayed the story he told me 'a girlfriend' said to one of the members of the band you guys are so pathetic you should get yourself a 'Wet Nurse' and the name was quickly adopted.

If I make it here through next February it will be 40 years of living in Marin County. Where did you grow up? Most of my growing up has been right here in Marin. But what does that mean? How have I grown, did I learn the secrets of wisdom available to a human or did I merely keep replacing cells in brain and body and keep rolling out of bed being the same me.

Faith and Vonnegut

If we begin to address the state of our Planet and our own actions we have a chance of pulling through this incredible transition that survival of our civilization, our species demands. My Dad’s words of warning and exhortation New World or No World holds true and my own dismissal of slogans and his vision weighs on me to this day.
My many missteps and the daily good steps are not even part of the story the music has moved on and it is being created every day. A thousand missteps leading to a couple of good steps might be just what is needed. Get off from looking at your feet Guy, nobody cares - What’s happening now? Get the beat working.
God doesn’t exist because you believe in God. Thank you my friend on the bench in San Anselmo who shared that thought with me. Last night at the America’s Best Value Inn in Corte Madera I had a lousy sleep, God’s various bodily tortures are becoming more brilliant in their mischievous creativity. ‘If you want to kiss the sky you better get down on your knees’ .. wasn’t that Bono and the Band U2. Last night I dug deep into Vonnegut’s memoir/look at the soul of America entitled ‘A Man Without a Country’ I marked some pages.
Here’s an excerpt:
‘No matter how corrupt, greedy, and heartless our government, our corporations, our media, and our religious and charitable institutions may become, the music will still be wonderful.
If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:

The only proof he needed

for the existence of God

Was Music

I never knew quite how much I loved Vonnegut. Here’s another:


‘Electronic communities build nothing. You wind up with nothing. We are dancing animals. How beautiful it is to get up and go out and do something. We are here on Earth
to fart around. Don’t let anybody tell you any different.’

‘La Fe mueve montanas’ sayeth the license plate holder of some Mexican worker who was ahead of me at the traffic light earlier today.


Whether your faith is working or not – who can deny the gifts that are given to
us in this lifetime.

Even a little electronic community work.