Sunday, April 30, 2017
Saturday, April 29, 2017
between peak experiences
Posted by Lohbado at 9:54 AM No comments:
Thursday, April 27, 2017
Thursday afternoon bicycle poem
Posted by Lohbado at 4:35 PM No comments:
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
at the tabernacle
Posted by Lohbado at 12:44 PM No comments:
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
approaching the abyss
Posted by Lohbado at 4:24 PM No comments:
Monday, April 24, 2017
the mystery of oneself
It's easy to complete an entire lifespan without once pausing to wonder what is going on. Or if one does pause, one doesn't pause long enough. Another wave of confusion takes over. Two basic questions at the Club Morono Tabernacle: "Who are you?" and "What is going on?" To understand or get to know oneself would be a wise place to begin as one sets off on a journey to seek knowledge.
Posted by Lohbado at 9:32 AM No comments:
Sunday, April 23, 2017
the pain of having to endure discourse
Posted by Lohbado at 8:41 AM No comments:
Saturday, April 22, 2017
Joe's annoying habit
Jane asked Joe to stop doing his voice exercises all the time. He kept right on going. He even tried to get her to do it too. No wonder they got divorced.
Posted by Lohbado at 9:14 PM No comments:
Friday, April 21, 2017
click picture to watch video. It stopped raining in the afternoon. Lohbado poured a ritual drink and thought about rituals he experienced Sunday mornings while growing up. His birth name was Peter Stumps, son of the Reverend Stonehenge Stumps, a minister at the Church of the Living Monument.
Posted by Lohbado at 9:12 PM No comments:
Thursday, April 20, 2017
I wasn't looking for anything other than to see what was there.
Were you running away from something? Do you have a bad conscience? Were you a bad girl or boy?
I did nothing wrong, said Lohbado.
Posted by Lohbado at 1:31 PM No comments:
Wednesday, April 19, 2017
When Yeeman Jack Noiyeh drowned up Fitz Creek after losing his paddle Haw General Foakheem set up a military barricade at the source and proclaimed exclusive water rights. When asked if all the sea was made of paper and all the sea was ink, if all the trees were bread and cheese, what would they have to drink, General Foakheem said: "Let them drink sand."
Lord Woulabong and his jumping soldiers did battle with General Foakheem and his furious fighters. A lot of blood flowed into Friz Creek for two weeks. In the end, opposing forces decided to share water rights, like they'd done before. After this, the Yee and Haw became friends.
Posted by Lohbado at 10:46 AM No comments:
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
dreary and joyful
Posted by Lohbado at 3:41 PM No comments:
Sunday, April 16, 2017
rite of spring
Posted by Lohbado at 9:31 AM No comments:
Saturday, April 15, 2017
city of the dead
The Moronovian question: what is going on? ended in silence. Silence is not something to write home about. It's no reason for self-congratulation. Emptiness offers no peg on which to hang one's hat. It's more like standing at the edge of the ocean and gazing into the infinite. Haze sometimes makes it difficult to distinguish where ocean ends and sky begins.
Posted by Lohbado at 1:03 PM No comments:
Friday, April 14, 2017
Next time someone accuses Lohbado of taking the same old pictures or telling a story he already told, he could cite the writings of Deleuze, with regards to repetition.
1 page 104. Presentation de Sacher-Masoch: le froid et le cruel. Gilles Deleuze. Editions de Minuit: Paris. 1967.
Posted by Lohbado at 7:35 PM No comments:
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
a jolly good time
Lohbado had a jolly good time on his morning walk along a freeway service road. He could shout and sing without annoying anyone, the decibels of traffic were so loud. He contemplated the mysteries of love.
Posted by Lohbado at 4:21 PM No comments:
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
spring euphoria on Mount Royal
Posted by Lohbado at 8:52 AM No comments:
Monday, April 10, 2017
Paco wearing a disaster tee shirt
Posted by Lohbado at 12:25 PM No comments:
Sunday, April 9, 2017
haggard but cheerful
Posted by Lohbado at 9:43 PM No comments:
Saturday, April 8, 2017
I am me
Lobhado thought of this consciousness as being similar to a variable X. Let X = me. X exists in relation to a river of thought, a flow of sensations, the cycle of seasons, impermanence, change. X is not some single fixed material entity. It's an invisible process, in the mind. The mind thinks I am me. But Me can't be seen, unless one identifies Me with the body.
One can't see thoughts. One can't see emotions, only the expression of emotion. X involves an illusion of being at the centre of things. X is of utmost importance. X is concerned about maintaining the health and wellbeing of one's body/mind continuum. When a group of Xs get together, there's often conflict, as each X feels it is more important or special by virtue of being X. The most extraordinary thing about me is I am me. There's only one me. Once I'm dead, this me will no longer exist, unless one dreams about me or X existing independently of a body. Lohbado was unable to imagine how X could be without a body. Thoughts generally swirl around the reference point of the body. One's consciousness is intertwined with embodiment.
Posted by Lohbado at 8:50 PM No comments:
Friday, April 7, 2017
A musical remembrance concert took place at Sala Rosa in Montreal, April 4, 2017, in memory of Montreal musician and composer Izzy Cox. Various musicians performed her songs and shared memories. Video recorded and edited by Lohbado.
Posted by Lohbado at 9:35 AM No comments:
Wednesday, April 5, 2017
Remembering Izzy Cox
|Joellen did a eulogy from Vancouver|
Izzy Cox a gifted, courageous, passionate, warm-hearted woman devoted to music died the weekend before last. A memorial evening was held at Sala Rosa to commemorate her life and music. Friends and people who knew her performed songs she wrote or offered tribute in her memory.
Posted by Lohbado at 9:56 AM No comments:
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