1.To the degree that we become frustrated with our inability to make a difference and effect change concerning big issues like health care, the economy, employment, education, war, peace, prosperity and individual happiness, as a nation we sink to the lowest common denominator of mundane pettiness. As terrorists plan their next big hit, we’re concerned about a baseball player using steroids. As stupid wars rage without end in Iraq and Afghanistan, we self-righteously condemn a golfer for having too much sex with women who aren’t his wife. Unemployment is at an all-time high, but we’re offended by silly words someone used, quoted in a book. Home foreclosures, unemployment, crime, mediocre education, a bankrupt judicial system: yeah, sure, so what? Let’s talk about late night TV’s comedy lineup. We didn’t have the guts to impeach and imprison Bush/Cheney when we had a chance, so now we’ll damn sure stop gay marriage and write segregation into law. Did someone make racist remarks during the presidential campaign? We can bet on it that when fat cat homophobic white Christian Republicans go behind closed doors, they turn on FOX propaganda TV, light their cigars, drink their Jack Daniels, read their porn magazines and use more offensive racist language than anything Harry Reid ever said. Make no mistake, GOP bigots know exactly what side their white bread is buttered.

2. The Tea Party Movement is the revived cult of the Swift Boat, packaged with a new flag, new slogans and a marketing plan to take Sarah Palin to the White House. The Tea Party Nation is the home of abortion clinic bombers and assassins of doctors who perform abortions. It is the nation of a new breed of anti-intellectual, anti-choice Christian Reconstructionists and Dominion Now believers who, rising like steam from dog shit, smell like the old John Birch Society, they even meet in small cells just like the Birchers did. Members of the Tea Party Movement want to write intelligent design, creationism, marriage law segregation and prayer in school into law. Their nation of conservatism is racist, intolerant, homophobic and white. Like forensic evidence of a crime, the philosophical DNA of the Tea Party Movement matches the ideological DNA of the anti-fluoridation crowd of the 1950’s and is the precursor to a permanent Republican majority. Islamic fascism is to the Taliban and Al-Qaeda what Christian fundamentalism is to the Tea Party Nation. The only difference between the two home-grown terrorist insurgencies is the amount and sophistication of available weapons and the willingness and training to use them. Make no mistake: the Tea Partiers are stocking up on weapons and ammunition. It’s 2010; do you know where YOUR guns are?

3. Before the earthquake, Haiti was a poor, impoverished, bankrupt, backwards 3rd or 4th world country with no economy, no education, no housing, no industry, no life expectancy worth anything, no health care and no money. After the earthquake, Haiti is still an impoverished, bankrupt, backward 3rd or 4th world barely-a-country country with still no economy, no housing, no industry, no life expectancy and no money. Literally overnight, since the earthquake, people want to help Haiti. Where was all this humanitarian concern for Haiti over the last 10 or 20 years when it could have done some good? Give me a break. This earthquake is like everything else: the news covers the story for a few days like a TV drama on prime time, and our attention drifts away. Before we can reach for the remote, the networks find the next big thing to entertain us. Just look at the last few weeks: first there was Tiger Woods, then terrorism on Xmas day and a week about airport security, then New Years Eve, Jay Leno, Fox and Palin came and went, Obama, the economy and the war, then it was Mark McGwire and Harry Reid, this week it was Wall St. bankers, Lane Kiffin and then, finally, Haiti. The worst thing to happen to any people anywhere in the world with a desperate humanitarian need is for the public to find out about it. After a few days of steady news coverage, we get bored and look for the next big thing. If “the next big thing” doesn’t magically appear on its own in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for the networks to invent something to take its place. Humanitarian compassion for Haiti is this week’s “big thing”. A few days from now we’ll be squawking about the Tea Party convention in Nashville TN. Haiti, huh?

I had an illuminating experience wading in the whirlpool and sweating in the sauna this morning: I had a thought rise like incense from the hidden depths of my mind. The I Ching says to expect the unexpected and as I breathed and absorbed the mist from the rejuvenating hot water and steam heat, the thought I had was simply “life”. Life. Suddenly very gently I moved away from my body. I was aware of being a few feet away from this vehicle, my body, the current life form through which I experience and agree or disagree on realities. At that exact moment, I experienced life itself as No Mind of the Tao and the Tao of No Mind which cannot be expressed, nor is it ever expressed; it is both inexpressible and unexpressible.

In the state I was in I knew that, as photographers, we don’t do photos “in-order-to” something else, not even to express our idea of ourselves as in who or what we are. Contrary to what we might believe about creativity, painters don’t paint and writers don’t write, sculptors don’t sculpt and photographers don’t snap shutters and scientists don’t discover and uncover the universe “in-order-to” make something out of ideas. We may think we do, but the Tao that can be expressed is not the Tao because the Tao is not an idea that can be thought. It just Is, and what there Is are fractals of indivuated distinct manifestations of consciousness becoming conscious. The presence No Mind manifests Itself as differentiated, individuated and, apparently, separate forms of awareness particles: energy subdivisable into spontaneous motion.

In fact, we are those particles living, breathing and having our being in, and of, No Mind of the Tao. We are energies of No Mind, the interdependent core and collective aggregate of all life forms as particles of an inward breath, as it were. Consider this the manifestation of No Mind without individuality or identity. Consider the outward breath as a metaphor for the vast spaciousness of differentiated individualized energies, the substance of creative intelligence; this is not God or gods. There is no father-figure or trinity sharing power. The appearance of individuality and secular identity is experienced as natural living processes of breathing in and breathing out, life and death, youth and old age, the recurrence of ocean tides, the revolutions of the planets and the seasons of the year and many more cycles far too complex and numerous to know about.

As photographers, we're not expressing No Mind of the Tao or anything else particularly through our work. On the contrary, No Mind of the Tao itself is the product of our work, not the expression No Mind. If photography is not the expression No Mind it's because it is No Mind, such that a photo by Simon Kossoff or John Linton or Claudia Luthi or Niki Conolly, for example, and anyone else for that matter, is a photo within No Mind. Like smoke rising, photography is an experience of becomingness through direct manifestation of the deepest inspiration.

Finally, before I moved closer to my body and yet still exterior to it, I could see that communication between particles of energy is through images. These images may be photos, or paintings, sculptures, mathematical formulas or some other form of imagery and symbolism; but not language, not words and not speaking. This may be important because how we communicate with life forms from other planets, galaxies, universes, worlds and times is clearly suggested by what Confucius meant when he said "a picture is worth a thousand words." Perhaps he was giving us a clue how to communicate with intelligent extraterrestrial life energy: through images, pictures, representations, facsimiles and visual energies within photographs like magick.

As members of JPG's on-line community, we communicate with each other through images we post. Moreover, we communicate with each other whether we post photos or not. This may be similar to the butterfly effect whereby a butterfly's wings create atmospheric changes in one location that may ultimately alter or delay, accelerate or even prevent the occurrence of changes somewhere else. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, communication might be vastly different. The flap of its wings is an essential part of communication. Without it, communication may not have existed at all.

The photograph I've posted here represents No Mind communicating in a language of imagery and space. In this space there is no me, no you, no them. There is only No Mind of the Tao and the Tao of No Mind. Our photographs are of the same No Mind, the same undivided Tao and the same uninhabited/uninhibited space. Our individuality is a necessary appearance just as breathing out is a necessary function of breathing in. So it is with profound respect that I dedicate this photo to all the photographers I have come to know (and there are more than I had room for on this photo) as the energy of No Mind of the Tao and the Tao of No Mind.

The New Order of the World Wide Web

Democracy as we've known it is obsolete. Forget about it. It's over. Dead.

Voting... elections .... candidates...... policies: they're relics. Antiques. They're jokes for standup comics.

If you're still thinking Red States and Blue States, you're thinking sucks! You're not using your head. The state of the global economy is the only "state" that matters!

The new order of government for the world is the Internet.

Call it the New Order of the World Wide Web.
Call it the World Order of the New Wide Web.
Call it the Wide Order of the Web New World.
Call it the Web Order of the Wide World New, or the New Wide World Order of the Web.

Call it whatever..........!

Congress as we've known it will be replaced by a "virtual" congress of avatars each with their own "profiles". There will be no more congressional districts. The Virtual Congress represents all internet activity, especially purchasing activity. It represents real-time purchasing activity, or activity-based purchasing/credit predictability and potential earnings futures. Individual people will think of themselves in terms of stocks and bonds. We will behave in society like stocks and bonds behave on Wall Street. "Representation" (as such) is determined by "votes" and voting is purchasing power (+), or lack of it (-).

Currently, paying online is voluntary. In the future it will be the only way to pay for anything. Instead of each nation having its own monetary currency and value, there will only be Internet Dollars. Every purchase for every item is made online: calculated, graphed and plotted in an instant. Total Account Information is available online throughout the world on every transaction. Every transaction is calculated to show trends in global behavior and psychology. There will be no privacy. As it stands now, criminal activity is the only activity protected by privacy laws. In the future, everything will be transparent. Activity that is criminal will be immediately apparent. There will be no money, no cash, to steal. Nothing can be exchanged without an Internet Footprint. Nobody will have cash on hand. Nobody can exchange a stolen item for anything of value because the only value will be in terms of Internet Dollars and to acquire Internet Dollars there will need to be an internet account, an IP address and other personal tracking devices.

Just as stocks rise and fall hour-by-hour and effect unlimited financial futures, the policy of the future is determined based on purchasing trends, energy expenditures, health, well being and life expectancy projections. People who live "green" will have more Internet Dollars in their account, similar to Frequent Flyer Miles an airlines give its customers. Cut back in energy use and get Internet Dollars to spend. The more you spend, the more influence you have as each Dollar spent is a vote for, or against other issues that concern you or your community. Each purchase (+) or non-purchase (-) is a vote. The consumer prints out a copy of all transactions made during the day and shows a "paper trail" to verify choices made that day at any particular time.

Cultural, social and military policy is determined hour by hour as stocks rise and fall according to internet activity reflecting purchases (+) or the absence of purchases (-) as in the case of the homeless and poor. No matter what you buy or don't buy, your social/fiscal/political philosophy is calculated in each purchase and your vote is selected and recorded worldwide in an instant. All the nations of the world will be linked up together in one gigantic voting block. Individual nations will use its Internet Dollars most directly to effect their nation's issues and concerns, but global issues of land rights, wars, civil rights and terrorism will be decided by the spending/purchasing activity of the entire world. Gone will be the days of government diplomats making policies of war based on capitalism, democracy, greed, or any other political ideology. Communism, socialism, capitalism and dictatorships will be a thing of the past. They will be replaced with avatars from a Virtual Government By Internet. With this system, having a "lack" of Internet Dollars is, in itself, a voting block leverage to effect change according to will. The ratio of Haves-to-Have-Nots is malleable. It can change overnight because it's not based on property values. Rather it is based on the (+)/(-) factors of distribution.

For example, if more liberals buy cars or anything else of value and desire, more than conservatives buy, same-sex marriage is approved, or any other social issue for that matter. On the other hand, if conservative Christians, for instance, buy more cars than liberal LGBT atheists do, same-sex marriage is denied, or some other thing. Lifestyle choices will be accepted or not based on the purchasing activity reflected in the distribution of Internet Dollars, sustainable energy resources and environmental provisions. "Policy" will be set hour by hour, day by day. It changes constantly, just like stocks. Jobs are created to support social agendas whereby the purchasing power of employees is calculated to be in support of, or to be opposed to, any specific idea at any time, on any day; just like stocks. Gay marriage, for example, may be approved on any given day during the hours of 3pm and 7pm based on various parameters established for social/economic monitoring. After that period of time, on a given day, the activity of distribution of Internet Dollars may be such that gay marriage is voted down during the night time hours and is back up again in the morning, or at some other time based on exchange activities.

There's no "policy". There's no need for a constitution; no need for a Supreme Court. The economic activity of the consumer is the constitution. The cash flow of ideas set judicial precedent. There will be no elected officials, no government diplomats, no lobbyists, no money changing hands. It will be impossible to "buy" votes, since all "voting" is thru the collective activity of purchasing and other variables to be determined by internet activity consensus building.

This system eliminates lobbyists. It eliminates corruption. It eliminates special interests. It is the ultimate form of "representational self-government". The citizens of the world govern themselves and each other by the monitoring activity of internet cyber masters. This new world web system puts the entire activity of government in the hands of consumers who are legally required to have an internet account, to give up all their passwords and security information, to purchase only online or not at all.

This is the Brave New World ahead of us. If you don't believe it, you'll probably be the first in line to make your purchase of organic apple juice to vote against it.

Sex

Last time I had sex she was dressed like a man with a white face, a mannequin smooth and hard. Her hair slick as black shoe polish. Eyes dead, tear stains of blood on the bed. The bedroom was dark. Nothing was true. Everything was permitted. The sky was gray. She was pale and smelled like sex. But she lied about not liking sodomy: she liked it and she knew I knew she liked it. She loved it and came back to it like a dog who couldn't escape the vacuum cleaner, the knife, the deranged psychotic. The more I got to know her the more I didn't know if I liked her better as a man or a woman or a dog.nothing is as tempting as pleasure twisting helplessly from a rope. We didn't merely have sex: we stopped being coherent. We made a mockery out of it. A mockery out of paradise. She rubbed my chest trying to make me be somebody. Gave herself orgasms in front of a mirror. Gave me oral sex which was more important than a conscience. I was dominate and she was submissive. I had a tongue like fat flesh. She loved my mouth. Loved my mouth inside her. Loved my tongue inside her brain. Loved the blood in my hypodermic. I was so proud for never having an original idea that I made her beg for every bad thing I did to her.She made me forget monotony. I gave her my undivided attention. We did speed in the kingdom of heaven and I'd watch her stagger down the street and come to my dirty little space. I touched the skin under her nose. Played with eyelashes. Made her sleep on the floor afterwards, chained to the bed. She was the one thing needed: forbidden fruit of a girl who waits on tables. She remembered being in a dirty laundromat, a dirty basement of a dirty hotel in downtown Dirty Town. A place where everybody lives sooner or later. It wasn't wrong to irrigate the field. I tried to find some balance but still couldn't get a taxi. I put gypsies in my arms and sometimes I missed the vein but it was still worth it.one night a few months ago I got a phone call. It woke me up. I answered it. Said hello. She wanted me to drive over to her place. Wanted to be tied up with a bag over her head. Wanted me to do it on all fours from the back end. Wanted me to bite her neck and leave deep teeth marks. Wanted to pretend she didn't know who I was. So she left the door unlocked. I let myself in and out.... in and out....... in and out in a reenactment of the Tribulation in the Garden. Sex was loud and painful. She passed out. I was the prince, she was the dead princess. After that night, I slept on subways. Bought tickets for the long and fast. I got sick from a cold wind that blew under the door and fell asleep. Something woke me up. It was the woman next door masturbating in that virtuous holy place of eternal consciousness. She was dressed like a man with a white face, a mannequin smooth and hard. Her hair slick as black shoe polish. Eyes dead, tear stains of blood on the.

this is what death must be like

is this what death must be like..... standing in front of endless doors painted black in a back alley, waiting to come back in another body just because you can.

teeth reflected in a window somewhere between the heaven and hell of one's imagination.a dark tunnel under an empty highway, only much longer and without the light.

distorted construction site that never gets finished, a mansion that never gets built, windows that look out to emptiness, elevators that dont work and lots of white space.

rolling down the road attached to a wooden board with no legs, going nowhere fast and nobody paying attention.

waiting at a bus stop for a bus that never comes, and if it comes it never stops, and if it stops we never have the exact change.

tables and chairs set for nobody to dine, walking down the street going nowhere in particular and lots of empty parking spaces.

an open mouth laughing at nothing, a kitchen with no food, some dull lights, windows that are locked and nobody there to see it.

looking back and trying to change things you dont like, unhappy with the way things turned out, pointing the finger looking for someone to blame.

a washed out memory, blurry and pointless like a cold wind hitting the back of the neck, and lots of white noise. an easily forgettable past life.

the sad blue light

it was 6am. i'd been working all night. it started to rain. grey skies. black clouds. black skies. cold rain and lots of it. i could use a drink. i walk to the corner. the bar is open every day. "night and day, you are the one." it's wednesday or tuesday. i'm sitting in the corner in the back. in the dark. minding my own business. staying out of the way, trying to get out of the way of the sad blue light.

the sad blue light shocked me like a cop on a raid and there i was -- sleeping with goats. i painted my fingernails with blood. i wrote words across my face. sweat came out of every pore of my body. i had my yes and my no. in the spring it rained. it the winter it snowed.

all i wanted to do was sit in the corner upstairs in the booth with only one chair near the window and be left alone. i wanted to stay away from the sad blue light. so i pawned my mind for a bowl of rice. i disguised my voice over the phone. it was a shadow of things to come. it was the curse, the beginning of the worse. i carried the rugged old rusty cross like a crucifixation around my neck. it rang like a cow bell. it kept me up a few days. i walked around in a trance on a night highway. i stood in doorways waiting to be slaughtered.

i tried to shut off the sad blue light before i went insane. i drank a few more, enough so i could see paint on the water. i saw the grave in the garden. i saw the bathroom door and the alley behind the bar, out back behind the dark corner. i saw the coward in the mirror. i tasted the mud of the ordinary. i fell in the mud. i walked through a maze of hallways and doors painted black. i saw an angel inside a cloud. i saw a demon inside my skull. i heard my voice begging for the end of the world. i ripped up old photographs of an angel with blood on its lips laughing at me. a slow song dripped like saliva from the corners of its mouth. it was bleeding on virgin snow in winter. i saw an angel with emerald eyes. it was crying inside the mountain. it was buried alive inside the colon of the mountain. i wanted to hang myself in the sad blue light.

i fell asleep and forgot to close the window. my foot fell off the chair. i woke up with an appetite for the strange. my glass was empty. my breath smelled bad. apparently, every word i ever spoke had turned rotten like rotten meat and smelled bad in my mouth. so i looked for my coat, my baggy pants, boots and a sharp pencil. then i hid in a closet to get away from the sad blue light. i slept on old faded yellow newspapers.