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April 8, ’18 On Any Given Sunday

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Vichy Catalan

For the Love of Life

Sky is clear and wind is calm. Spotted an osprey on wing over our boat. An auspicious sighting of a fishing bird destination unknown. Common terns are busy too. Oyster catchers paired and mated chase each other from the breakwater to the shoreline and back. Everything alive must have got the same memo that it’s Sunday.

My triple threat for the day is to continue reading Mailer’s Armies in the Night, go for a brisk long hike and not eat too much or the wrong things.

Last night we joined friends dining out on Fourth Street in Berkeley. Success is to not distract by discussions of what  we will and won’t eat. When dining out the cooks are using more salt, sugar and fat. Restaurants do not use less. That’s the state of play here in the Golden State. We have a life to live and they have a business to run. Compromise is required while we all learn to take better care of ourselves and each other. Eating mostly but not always vegan isn’t about beating up everyone out there who isn’t on the same page with all of us loitering here in the institute for nutritional virtue. I can’t say I blame them.

The challenge is much the same as a Sunday. Grace is a healing salve to bestow upon the day. My new diet isn’t so high-minded. I’m eating with care because I need to make better choices about what I put in my mouth. I’m well past the point where I can eat whatever I want. There are days the project is tiresome, dull and frustrating. A substantial portion of the whole of my diet has turned into a grand adventure.

Have compassion for your own life without losing sight of the lives of others. Be a good and happy example and don’t be a wet blanket. I’m not a proud vegan. I’m not a vegan. I eat as I can to what would be called a vegan diet without having my Sunday’s, humor or perspective self-delusionally swept out from beneath the skillful path I seek to set my best foot forward upon.


Opportunity Before Me

Edited Red Star

April 4th,’18 Anasazi Beans and Sonoran Mesquite Flour Feast for Fools

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Wheat-Barley-Rye-Buckwheat-Mesquite Flour 

Food of the Desert Dwellers

Mesquite Pancakes
Mesquite (Sweet and Spiceful) Pancakes

Beginning last August my wife and I embarked upon a gastronomic revolution. The idea was to tip the sacred cows over and leap into the culinary inconvenient truth of our eating too few and too familiar foods. We wanted to stretch our boundaries and we also wanted to rid our diet of empty calories and replace them with foods rich in healthful micronutrients that would fight off free radicals and enhance our cardiovascular well-being.

First off you’ll need to break the fever. In this case I mean habits. Old habits always die hard. With support from each other we began preparing nothing but whole foods plant based meals. At the start of our journey the first thing needing fixing was our taste buds. We tossed out the salt, sugar and booze. In two weeks time we could taste and identify flavors that had simply gone lost hidden beneath these too dominant other food and beverages.

Tucson Mesquite Flour
Sonoran Desert Mesquite Flour  has a Distinct Flavor all its Own

Otherwise things proceeded at an alarmingly positive pace. Once we slowed down and ate our meals with greater care we’d arrive at the end our much lighter meals feeling full. Feeling contentment after eating lighter, less oil based, more leafy-greens, less starchy, no meat meals takes a couple of skills. You need to chew your food slowly. You need to taste the flavorful meal. You need to be sure to use spices. Become friends with garlics, onions and curries. Shallots, cilantro, fresh made horseradish are flavor boosting helpers.

Downer side problems abound but not insurmountably so. We have issues. Won’t drill down but they exist and you’ll have to trust me when I say these are good problems to have.


Wagon Wheel Saloon
Patagonia’s Strictly for Medicinal Purposes Human Oil and Lubrication Joint

Our instrument is essentially the body and mind. Taking better care isn’t just about trudging at a low dull level. Eating with inspiration is a means of being good to yourself and when you are treating your life with kindness you are on the right track even if it takes a little more doing, time and care. Let’s get going peeps we have a world to save and fun to have.

Edited Red Star

April 3rd, ’18

In transit from Patagonia, Arizona today. Destination San Francisco Bay Area, think Emeryville via downtown Los Angeles. As ever buy a book, book a show and if you are so inclined surf around this site and find out more. More is good.

Oak Bar Ranch, Patagonia, Arizona

In terms of restoration of the mental and spiritual faculties I spent the last few days hiking trails where I might take measure of where I find the state of my inner ship.

This is the game of eat a little-hike alot. Stomach, feet, hips, eyes and open the mind. Most of the ruts I found were more to do with the interior landscape than those I found at my boot.

Transformation Abounding

Taking in the lonely outpost of Santa Cruz County’s one and truly only … Patagonia is tonic and elixir. You put the time in and you get the less tangled up mind out.

I continue to put more time into the Desert Harvester’s organization based in Tucson and dedicated to eating all things Sonoran Desert. This entire idea of making available the micronutrients of an ecosystem by ingestion makes all kinds of common Sense. That’s a rut I want to climb out of. I’d like a broader understanding of what we can find right here unpackaged, unprocessed and fresh and edible. I know little and would like to understand more. Cornflakes are nice enough but what about all these other wonders of the natural world?

April Fool’s Day

A Cup of Black Mud
April Fool’s Day and you ended up here? You can buy a book, book a show, click around and find information about my work as a performer and writer. But, wait there’s more…

In Tucson this weekend hiking on Mount Lemon. Big Bug Trail didn’t disappoint. After horizontal respite plunged into quest for eating or drinking something regional, something from the Dessert Harvesters, something indigenous. How about a prickly pear-jalapeno margarita!!!! Sure. With salt or no salt? I asked that my rim come salted so that I might extract the maximum of things I normally would not do. I avoid salt like the plague and tequila like the pretty little thing that fakes twisting her ankle so that the gentleman may come to her aid.

Rock-Trail-Tree-Bush is Medicinal

Today I’ll head further south of Tucson to the Mexican borderlands near Patagonia, Arizona and hike along Soniota Creek with my binoculars to peek and be peeked back at by the avian special effects show. Sonoita Creeks too-tall cottonwoods make the entire project sketchy at best, but every so often I get lucky when a bird makes a mistake and we scare the devil out of one another before each bolting off in opposite directions. Needless frustrations are quelled by taking the hiking more serious than the actual seeing and identifying of the life we share this fragile world with.

I’ll remain nearby Patagonia at the Oak Bar Ranch. One of my kind, the busking-circus veteran kind is running the ranch. He’s boss to one wife who won’t be bossed, and a fair enough number of barnyard animals that don’t take no guff. This is as nature intended for a self made hard working show business type. You put your back into some tens of thousands of performances only to be ignored, disobeyed, and to your bitter disappointment utterly beloved for the human being you have turned out to be. Our standing up in front of all of you and scratching out a better than fair wage for doing so for what turns out to be most if not all our life scars our hearts up until the bile is near all gone and nothing remains but our having good things to say about the nature and generosity of the human spirit. That holds until it doesn’t and then we relapse like the rest of you into worrying about the entire project and humanity’s ultimate fate.

Birdwatching is today’s medicine.

3/10/18 WeakEnding Comedy Show Notes

Free Library Offering in Walk Across Berkeley…

Speaking about the World Emergency Full Catastrophe Climate Change Comedy Show I took in a Columbia University Center on Global Energy Policy podcast thinking I should know more about the corner ‘homo-subject-us’ is in. In keeping with the working title of my project the energy podcast covered everything but the comedy show portion of the program. And in my particular application if there’s no comedy there’s no program.

I happened upon this island of ecological responsibility. You can get your biodiesel fill-up, beekeeping supplies and chicken scratch all in one oddly only in Berkeley convenience store stop. My favorite item—the ladybug lures… got to have some of those!

Lady Bug Lures
Biodiesel and Biodiversity just down the corner

I stopped in at the local and aptly named Choose Love Marijuana Dispensary on Shattuck Avenue to see what I’d been missing. I could pick up some Blackout, True Humboldt or dose specific Himalayan Mountain Thunder if I so desired. By my reckoning they’re doing some serious business at this location.

Stopped at the Berkeley Bowl for sweetened soy milk, pumpkin purée, frozen cranberries,  pitted dates, pumpkin pie spice, and turmeric root. Blend ingredients, pour in a glass and drink. Also, I found some Jamaican grown  hibiscus tea in the bulk bins for a fraction of what they were charging over in the packaged tea isle. This is what we do in California.

If you explore here you’ll find material related to both my shows and novels. Take a look if you have a few… and last of all remember…

Don’t be a stranger. Come on back. I’ll be here

The Invisible-Glorious-Full-Stop

DTLA-Arts District

Start from Where You Find Yourself

Here on the rotisserie in LA it is expected to go triple digits. For one hot second I’d deluded myself into believing the autumnal equinox had passed, summer was over and that Trump would have folded like a cheap piece of patio furniture by now.

As far as trifecta’s go I’m a raving savant.

The future is akin to a plane on autopilot. Doors locked, we can’t get in, there’s a mountain dead ahead. Believe me I’d rather be on a beach listening to Kenny G, reading my GQ while sipping on my first extra dry-stirred not shaken- Sapphire martini.

Is it just me? Yes, it is evidently just me. Everyone else I know wants beachfront property, doesn’t believe in tsunami’s and dismisses the reports of Antarctica’s demise as premature. Even displaced polar bears sighted south of their ancestral range turns out to be attributed to nothing more than advances in ecotourism.

Even my chakra’s, all seven have told me to just take a chill pill, stop worrying, it’s all coming to an end, but it’s a great ending without the Koch’s, Trump’s or Murdock’s surviving any of what they’ve so fervently wrought.

Today my car still starts, radio works and I know where the hell I’m going for at least the moment. Having been a pilot of the prairie, the daring-do-dude of the desert I can unplug the plug-in-hybrid and go. Blinkered, emotionally bombed out- gutted like a cathedral under renovation I can take my sorry-to-have-to-do-this-to-you-self out into the vast emptiness of the terrifying void where I’ll try to find a can of start-over.

So, there you are and here we go. To the barricades. Helmet on, optimism thermostat turned to full on. The scout will sprint ahead looking for a plausible path through the impasse. Probably to be found under a rock, at the counter of a country store, or maybe locked inside my heart of hearts. I haven’t looked there in a while. Must be a key to my soul somewhere.



The Sign I’ve Been Looking For