http://s252.photobucket.com/albums/hh22/pamsterpics/Hawaii/
Maybe this'll even work. You'd think this stuff would be pretty straightforward, but you'd be wrong. Or maybe I just couldn't figure out the easy way to do it all. That would, in fact, be quite in keeping with my usual approach.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Picture & Video Links Coming Soon!
Watch the crashing surf at The End Of The World, catch a spectacular sunset at Huggo's On The Rocks, drive the road to Kona, hang out a bit on the seawall! AND YOU ARE THERE!
Finally managed to get all roadtrip & Hawaii pics and video from the laptop to the desktop. Now working on trying to get them into Photobucket so I can post a link to them for y'alls viewing enjoyment. Lulz for all!
Tomorrow night is Willie Nelson. Actually, I'm not all that excited about seeing him; I'm really glad that Willie exists, but in truth, I can take or leave his music. I'm really going for the social aspect: at this particular show and at this particular venue, I'm likely to run into old friends, or maybe old enemies. Which could be either fun or horrific. In any case, it should be interesting.
Finally managed to get all roadtrip & Hawaii pics and video from the laptop to the desktop. Now working on trying to get them into Photobucket so I can post a link to them for y'alls viewing enjoyment. Lulz for all!
Tomorrow night is Willie Nelson. Actually, I'm not all that excited about seeing him; I'm really glad that Willie exists, but in truth, I can take or leave his music. I'm really going for the social aspect: at this particular show and at this particular venue, I'm likely to run into old friends, or maybe old enemies. Which could be either fun or horrific. In any case, it should be interesting.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Hawaii Afterthought #1
...Since I'm sure there'll be more.
My experiences with people in Kona were an interesting counterpoint to those in San Francisco. Many of the people I met and talked with and hung out on the seawall with in Kona were people in similar circumstances as the street people I wrote about in San Francisco. Except, of course, that they were in Hawai’i. In my time down there I witnessed no aggression, never felt threatened, was never treated in any way other than with the utmost respect. I was included in the sharing that I saw constantly going on around me, banana bread, hot dogs, flowers, even a strawberry shortcake one day. I love strawberry shortcake. Those folks are onto something real out there.
My experiences with people in Kona were an interesting counterpoint to those in San Francisco. Many of the people I met and talked with and hung out on the seawall with in Kona were people in similar circumstances as the street people I wrote about in San Francisco. Except, of course, that they were in Hawai’i. In my time down there I witnessed no aggression, never felt threatened, was never treated in any way other than with the utmost respect. I was included in the sharing that I saw constantly going on around me, banana bread, hot dogs, flowers, even a strawberry shortcake one day. I love strawberry shortcake. Those folks are onto something real out there.
Aloha, y'all!
As all who have been following my travel blog on roadtripamerica.com - fascist buzz-killing technocrats that they are - are aware, I have recently returned from Hawai'i. I have copied all blog entries from there to here, from the Hawai'i trip and the roadtrip through the Southwest and California preceeding it. From there, I'll see where the path takes me; in the immediate works are blog entries covering the Willie Nelson show at the Backyard that I'll be attending Friday night & the Anonymous Scientology protests scheduled for Saturday, where I will be bringing delicious cake & wearing a mask & singing Rick Astley with those crazy Anonymous folks. Expect us!
"You have the right to free speech...
...as long as you're not dumb enough to actually try it."
- Joe Strummer
This morning I discovered that my travel blog account on RTA had been altered to require a password to those whom wish to view it. Puzzled as to how such a thing could have occured, I went in and changed it back & not long after received this email:
Hi Pamela,
Your site has been flagged by our system for review due to its content & language. After reviewing your site, we feel that it would be best to password protect your site as it is in breach of our terms and conditions. Putting a password on your site will stop any public access and only those with your password will be able to view it. I have set a password on your site being :
temp1234
You can change this password at any time by logging into your Update Center and click on Journal Options. Change your password there and save. You can email your password out to friends who you would like to view the site. We appreciate your understanding.
If you have any further questions please feel free to email me.
Happy travels,
Aaron Melder
Customer and Affiliate Support
MyTripJournal.com
I find this appalling, given that my content is relatively mild compared to the veritable boatloads of crap we all must wade through regularly when we venture out into the Tubes of the Internets, which we all know by now are serious fucking business. But whatever. Their website sucks anyway.
Where my motherfuckin' first amendment rights be at? And not one word out of you, Theodore...we've been over this.
- Joe Strummer
This morning I discovered that my travel blog account on RTA had been altered to require a password to those whom wish to view it. Puzzled as to how such a thing could have occured, I went in and changed it back & not long after received this email:
Hi Pamela,
Your site has been flagged by our system for review due to its content & language. After reviewing your site, we feel that it would be best to password protect your site as it is in breach of our terms and conditions. Putting a password on your site will stop any public access and only those with your password will be able to view it. I have set a password on your site being :
temp1234
You can change this password at any time by logging into your Update Center and click on Journal Options. Change your password there and save. You can email your password out to friends who you would like to view the site. We appreciate your understanding.
If you have any further questions please feel free to email me.
Happy travels,
Aaron Melder
Customer and Affiliate Support
MyTripJournal.com
I find this appalling, given that my content is relatively mild compared to the veritable boatloads of crap we all must wade through regularly when we venture out into the Tubes of the Internets, which we all know by now are serious fucking business. But whatever. Their website sucks anyway.
Where my motherfuckin' first amendment rights be at? And not one word out of you, Theodore...we've been over this.
Hawai'i #8
Perhaps I can learn to grow taro…
It’s one thing to smuggle a relatively small cocker spaniel into the occasional National Park motel room….it’s another class of feat entirely to successfully smuggle a 95 pound Rottweiler in and out of a high-rise resort hotel room three days running. Perhaps Dennis was moving ‘Lita in and out through another dimension though, because we managed somehow to get away with it.
One day, Dennis kidnapped me and took me to the taro farm just back around to the eastern side of the island where he spends his time when he’s not on the seawall in Kona. We took that rental car there down a lava flow off the main road. What the hell, it was insured. Actually, it was much better than the road to The Racetrack in Death Valley.
Truly idyllic, it was. Miles and miles of unspoiled coastline, backed by pristine green hills. A fresh-water spring making a nice-sized pond right in front of the ocean. Thriving taro patches and vegetable patches, fruit trees, flowers, herbs. I sat with an old Hawaiian elder and watched him make a native medicine out of some sort of nuts or seeds.
After spending a wonderful day out there, Dennis stopped on the way back & came back to the car with a Melona bar for me…. I’d never heard of them before, like a popsicle made of melon ice cream. Sounds strange, but was delicious.
Aside from the taro farm, spent the last days just relaxing….down at the wonderful crystal-clear salt-water tidepool at the Royal Kona, down on the seawall, hanging out at Terry’s house with Dennis, or down on The Grassy Knoll At The End Of The World. Had a wonderful dinner from Don the Beachcomber with Dennis & Terry on the lanai the last night with the last perfect sunset.
On the very last day before we got on the plane, I walked out the lava spit down by the seawall to return the lava rocks I’d taken from the other side of the island. By then I’d learned a bit about how Pele feels about people that take her children home with them. Ideally, they should have been returned to where I’d taken them from, but that wasn’t really possible. So I went and gave my apologies; as I was doing that & saying my prayer of thanks for all I’d experienced the waves lapped gently at my feet. But as soon as I opened the first bottle of sparkly black sand to pour it out, a huge wave came to drench me from head to toe. OK, bitch…I get it. Take your damn rocks.
I went back to the seawall, dripping wet, to tell Dennis and Terry that Pele, or maybe it was her bitch sister, had spit on me. Dennis suggested I look upon it as a blessing & I got on the plane with the salt water dried on my hair and skin and clothes. Supposed to be more healing that way.
Now I’m home, back to what passes for real life. I remember telling Dennis one day while we were at The Grassy Knoll that it was like the world is a big illusion of a cage. And most people don’t think anything of it; it’s a real cage for them and they don’t even see it. Then there are a smaller number of people like me, who see the cage for the illusion that it is but don’t know what the fuck to do about it. Then there are an even smaller number of people who know that the cage is real for everyone else, but also that it simply doesn’t apply to them. I’ve met a very few people like that in my life, Dennis was just the latest. And maybe the most amazing. He just texted me to tell me he’s seen dolphins four days in a row now and I can see him in my mind’s eye, down there on the seawall in Kona. It’s an oddly comforting thought: the world may go to hell in a handbasket, but Dennis will always be right there on the seawall, weaving away with an aloha and bits of cryptic wisdom and that dazzling smile for every single person that walks or drives by.
It’s one thing to smuggle a relatively small cocker spaniel into the occasional National Park motel room….it’s another class of feat entirely to successfully smuggle a 95 pound Rottweiler in and out of a high-rise resort hotel room three days running. Perhaps Dennis was moving ‘Lita in and out through another dimension though, because we managed somehow to get away with it.
One day, Dennis kidnapped me and took me to the taro farm just back around to the eastern side of the island where he spends his time when he’s not on the seawall in Kona. We took that rental car there down a lava flow off the main road. What the hell, it was insured. Actually, it was much better than the road to The Racetrack in Death Valley.
Truly idyllic, it was. Miles and miles of unspoiled coastline, backed by pristine green hills. A fresh-water spring making a nice-sized pond right in front of the ocean. Thriving taro patches and vegetable patches, fruit trees, flowers, herbs. I sat with an old Hawaiian elder and watched him make a native medicine out of some sort of nuts or seeds.
After spending a wonderful day out there, Dennis stopped on the way back & came back to the car with a Melona bar for me…. I’d never heard of them before, like a popsicle made of melon ice cream. Sounds strange, but was delicious.
Aside from the taro farm, spent the last days just relaxing….down at the wonderful crystal-clear salt-water tidepool at the Royal Kona, down on the seawall, hanging out at Terry’s house with Dennis, or down on The Grassy Knoll At The End Of The World. Had a wonderful dinner from Don the Beachcomber with Dennis & Terry on the lanai the last night with the last perfect sunset.
On the very last day before we got on the plane, I walked out the lava spit down by the seawall to return the lava rocks I’d taken from the other side of the island. By then I’d learned a bit about how Pele feels about people that take her children home with them. Ideally, they should have been returned to where I’d taken them from, but that wasn’t really possible. So I went and gave my apologies; as I was doing that & saying my prayer of thanks for all I’d experienced the waves lapped gently at my feet. But as soon as I opened the first bottle of sparkly black sand to pour it out, a huge wave came to drench me from head to toe. OK, bitch…I get it. Take your damn rocks.
I went back to the seawall, dripping wet, to tell Dennis and Terry that Pele, or maybe it was her bitch sister, had spit on me. Dennis suggested I look upon it as a blessing & I got on the plane with the salt water dried on my hair and skin and clothes. Supposed to be more healing that way.
Now I’m home, back to what passes for real life. I remember telling Dennis one day while we were at The Grassy Knoll that it was like the world is a big illusion of a cage. And most people don’t think anything of it; it’s a real cage for them and they don’t even see it. Then there are a smaller number of people like me, who see the cage for the illusion that it is but don’t know what the fuck to do about it. Then there are an even smaller number of people who know that the cage is real for everyone else, but also that it simply doesn’t apply to them. I’ve met a very few people like that in my life, Dennis was just the latest. And maybe the most amazing. He just texted me to tell me he’s seen dolphins four days in a row now and I can see him in my mind’s eye, down there on the seawall in Kona. It’s an oddly comforting thought: the world may go to hell in a handbasket, but Dennis will always be right there on the seawall, weaving away with an aloha and bits of cryptic wisdom and that dazzling smile for every single person that walks or drives by.
Hawai'i #7
Under The Milky Way Tonight
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNhR-PrTAFE
Been struggling with writing the rest of this story. There are things I want to write about, there are other things I choose not to write about, and then there are the things that can’t be written about. One thing Dennis was teaching me about was words, their power and their limitations. And he was right (that’s the thing about Dennis; he’s almost always right. Irritating as hell.): I’m not as good with them as I liked to think; I say things all the time that don’t accurately reflect what I mean, I use words without really thinking about them, I misuse and abuse the language. You can argue all day long about whether that’s art or not, but it’s certainly true that it complicates communication. So I’m trying to be more careful. Or at least aware.
So I told Dennis I’d come sleep under the stars on the beach with him. Then I said “I know you’re gonna kill me in the middle of the night with that knife.”
“Why on earth do you think I’d use my knife?”
Megan was not wild about me going north of town to Boomshakalakalaka Harbor to sleep on the beach with Dennis. With the rental car. But I trusted him.
We’d planned to have dinner but ended up sitting on the lanai & talking til late so we went to the grocery store on the way to the beach. I’d had a beer earlier in the evening on the lanai, but Dennis talked me out of bringing the wine to the beach. I weakened at the grocery store, but missed the time to buy it. By minutes. Well, darn. Dennis was amused, though.
And up the coast to Honokohau Harbor and into Kaloko-Honokohau National Historic Park. From the National Park Service website:
The Spirit of Kaloko
Along the western coastline of the island of Hawai’I lies the hot, rugged lava of Kaloko-Honokohau. Some people find it difficult to understand why the ancient Hawaiians chose to settle upon these stark lava fields. The reason was, perhaps, a spiritual one, for there was a spirit in Kaloko-Honokohau. The Hawaiians who first came to the area felt its presence in every rock and tree, in the gentle waters of shallow bays and in the tradewinds that gently swept across the lava flow. Perhaps you too will experience this spirit on your visit to this National Historic Park.
This is where Dennis sleeps. It’s surprisingly comfortable. You have to get up early, though….technically you’re not supposed to sleep there. Sometimes there are turtles.
He taught me an interesting and useful trick with my vision that night. We were looking at the stars and I explained how I couldn’t focus directly on one: it would look bright, but if I tried to look directly at it, the image would cross and fade away. It would come back when I looked at something else. So he taught me to look not at it or away, but right next to it. Sounds simple, and it is, but I’d never thought of it before. Works, too. And not just with stars; if I remember to do it, I can see other things much better.
We got up as it was getting light, went to Lava Java and grabbed some delicious 100% Kona coffee and headed south of town to the Grassy Knoll At The End Of The World.
And just sat there, for hours and hours. ‘Lita played with other dogs, chased mongoose, napped. We drank coffee, then water, watched whales. No hurry to go anywhere. Just slow down. Stop. Be quiet. Breathe. Listen. I just listened. To Dennis telling stories, to the ocean, to the breeze in the palm fronds above.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNhR-PrTAFE
Been struggling with writing the rest of this story. There are things I want to write about, there are other things I choose not to write about, and then there are the things that can’t be written about. One thing Dennis was teaching me about was words, their power and their limitations. And he was right (that’s the thing about Dennis; he’s almost always right. Irritating as hell.): I’m not as good with them as I liked to think; I say things all the time that don’t accurately reflect what I mean, I use words without really thinking about them, I misuse and abuse the language. You can argue all day long about whether that’s art or not, but it’s certainly true that it complicates communication. So I’m trying to be more careful. Or at least aware.
So I told Dennis I’d come sleep under the stars on the beach with him. Then I said “I know you’re gonna kill me in the middle of the night with that knife.”
“Why on earth do you think I’d use my knife?”
Megan was not wild about me going north of town to Boomshakalakalaka Harbor to sleep on the beach with Dennis. With the rental car. But I trusted him.
We’d planned to have dinner but ended up sitting on the lanai & talking til late so we went to the grocery store on the way to the beach. I’d had a beer earlier in the evening on the lanai, but Dennis talked me out of bringing the wine to the beach. I weakened at the grocery store, but missed the time to buy it. By minutes. Well, darn. Dennis was amused, though.
And up the coast to Honokohau Harbor and into Kaloko-Honokohau National Historic Park. From the National Park Service website:
The Spirit of Kaloko
Along the western coastline of the island of Hawai’I lies the hot, rugged lava of Kaloko-Honokohau. Some people find it difficult to understand why the ancient Hawaiians chose to settle upon these stark lava fields. The reason was, perhaps, a spiritual one, for there was a spirit in Kaloko-Honokohau. The Hawaiians who first came to the area felt its presence in every rock and tree, in the gentle waters of shallow bays and in the tradewinds that gently swept across the lava flow. Perhaps you too will experience this spirit on your visit to this National Historic Park.
This is where Dennis sleeps. It’s surprisingly comfortable. You have to get up early, though….technically you’re not supposed to sleep there. Sometimes there are turtles.
He taught me an interesting and useful trick with my vision that night. We were looking at the stars and I explained how I couldn’t focus directly on one: it would look bright, but if I tried to look directly at it, the image would cross and fade away. It would come back when I looked at something else. So he taught me to look not at it or away, but right next to it. Sounds simple, and it is, but I’d never thought of it before. Works, too. And not just with stars; if I remember to do it, I can see other things much better.
We got up as it was getting light, went to Lava Java and grabbed some delicious 100% Kona coffee and headed south of town to the Grassy Knoll At The End Of The World.
And just sat there, for hours and hours. ‘Lita played with other dogs, chased mongoose, napped. We drank coffee, then water, watched whales. No hurry to go anywhere. Just slow down. Stop. Be quiet. Breathe. Listen. I just listened. To Dennis telling stories, to the ocean, to the breeze in the palm fronds above.
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