August 2008



This is Otis. He was born in Yemen. He ran across Oman, across the empty quarter, flirting with the Saudi Border — but he is smart enough to know about the bedouins who traffic those parts. He is now loved, fed hay woven of gold, drinks water cooled with diamonds, he is a good fast and pretty horse.


They found the gorillas. They found one hundred and twenty thousand gorillas. They were not hiding, they were just deep in the jungle, hanging out, picking fleas off each others back and swinging from vines. Living the life.


There are stories like this, the lost tribes in the Amazon, the old bones of the hunter and gathers mummified in the Sahara Desert – cluing in a time when it was not the desert at all, but lush and green, and filled with dinosaurs. There are these stories of the global credit crunch affecting the gulf, and the general/president of Pakistan stepping away and leaving the country to be subsumed by the vaccum it creates, there is Georgia, there are fake fireworks in the Olympics, and a whole mess of other things. But none if it matters. Not quite like these gorillas matter.


We have read and dreamed about the naïve primates in Namibia. But these gorillas were not naïve, the impact of humans has been imprinted in their sub conscious – even though they are so removed, they know humans are not our friends. they are just gorillas. And they just live in the jungle. A jungle so dense no one had ever been there before – or something like that, and so what? Maybe so nothing. but it is good to know that we are there, in this world, whether we are the lost tribe, or the nomadic Shepard in Jammu, it is good to know that we are there, existing as we always have. 

Catching the harmonies with a big pink hairbrush.

for lunch it was those tunafish sandwiches with a bucket of hot sauce. Dinner for it was peanut butter and banana, buckets of dark rum, and dancing for desert.

at least that’s how i thought it would be —



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