Own Your Lips Girl

Before I was born my grandparents, who were young then (younger than me now) were called names like “Jew” and “Communist”.  It was true. They were, but what people meant when they spat these monikers in my youthful elders’ direction, was not accurate. My grandparents were “Jews”, in that they were Jewish, but they didn’t control Hollywood or the banking business or kill babies or Jesus, or even keep kosher, which is what the people who railed against them railed against. As “Communists” they were basically good American liberals. They believed that everyone should have health care and a minimum wage and access to education and legal representation. They had no interest in enslaving humanity or incinerating American families in nuclear clouds, as their McCarthy-ite accusers imagined. They were, as far as I was concerned, grandparents. Grandpa rode his bicycle and worked with lasers and computers at MIT. Grandma tended her garden and kept an endless stream of food on the table. They shared a fondness for nerds from India, who were always hanging around talking physics and politics, but mostly food. Pretty sweet, right? But by some people’s standards; the people who painted a swastika on their door in the 80’s, for example, my grands were some brand of devils.

I guess I’m a devil too. Nobody that I know calls me a “Jew” or “Communist”. They call me “a sexist”, “a misogynist”, “a domestic abuser”.  My beloved Mirah once compared my version of Liz Phair’s “HWC” to “rape” onstage during a Radio8Ball show. Even my best friend, Shmushkin, has been labeled a “pedophile” by my accusers. Some of this is “true”. I am a sexist, born and raised in a sexist society, by and around women who had no patience for it. I’m trying to make the most of this poison in me to dismantle sexism in my world and in my time; not for women, or even for my fellow men, just for myself, and for future generations who I deign to think will be more like me than those who today accuse me of sexism.

The boring haters who are currently accusing me of “domestic abuse” have never been in a domestic situation with me so they are basically full of shit, but they are synchronistically onto something. My experience with domestic violence is that the women in my life wish I was more “abusive”, in bed, and less abusive in my being.  My own abuse of self sometimes spills over to my lovers and leads to something that looks a lot like domestic abuse; intense lovers’ quarrels where the energy borders on, and sometimes spills over to, physicality from both parties. When this happens only one party is always wrong; the man. I agree with this. Karma’s a bitch. We may not deserve it but sensitive men of this time must accept that there are certain lines we will never be able to cross, which is what the “Cunt Punch” chapter in my book is about. If there is one reason I choose to live alone and uninvolved with a physical sexual partner at this time, it’s that I have yet to find a passionate loving relationship that doesn’t bring with it a dangerous and potentially violent shadow side. And anything without that hungry tug isn’t really worth engaging, is it? Whether it’s me bringing this darkness into my bedroom, or the hyper-literate sexual revolutionaries I am attracted to; I feel it’s my responsibility to unravel it for myself before engaging another human women; for her sake, for my own, and for my neighbors. So, my accusers are correct, but they have it all wrong.

This is the psychic brew I was steeping in when I found myself embroiled in yet another controversy or, as I am calling them “accidental initiations” connected with my book. A selection from Accidental Initiations: In The Kabbalistic Tree Of Olympia was going to run in Reality Sandwich; an online magazine overseen by Daniel Pinchbeck, and devoted to the transformation of consciousness “bite by bite”. I’ve written for them before and given them lots of free advertising on Radio8Ball. Daniel is one of the many guru lovers of the sacred whore from my book. According to my philosophy of Honor Among Men this makes us tribe. Sadly, instead of engaging this bond we’ve been acting like the worst kind of masculine cunts. Having shared the same snatch for a spell, we clearly have each other’s stink in our snouts, and we are bound to fight or fuck or flee or…be friends?

Jen Palmer, my fellow Sync Book author, recently found herself at the center of this archetypal conundrum which, I am almost sure, is someplace she has no desire to be.  And yet, here she is; another woman suffering the egos of two limp gorillas. Not that she isn’t an active participant in the drama. During the Sync in The City event in NYC in February Jen delivered a long talk on the syncs she was experiencing around The Rolling Stones “lips logo” and images of Kali; the Hindu goddess of birth and destruction.  A video of this talk exists somewhere on the east coast of the U.S. and will eventually find its way to the internet. My memory of the presentation is vague and potent. I’m looking forward to re-watching it on video now that so many syncs around it have been revealed. (Hey Alan Green & Kevin Halcott! Get on that shit will ya?)

When I returned home from the NYC event I found myself increasingly obsessed with The Stones music. In general I’m more or a Who, Beatles guy, but the last few months it’s been all Stones. I listened to the book on tape of Keith Richards’ autobiography. (I didn’t know he dated Ronnie Spector.) I watched all the film footage of The Stones I could get my hands on. Mostly I danced and sang in front of my altar to songs like “Bitch”, “Street Fighting Man”, “Gimme Shelter”, “Happy” and that most “evil” of all songs “Brown Sugar”. Kali-esque! I unleashed my inner cunt in this music the way girls have for decades. I didn’t connect the resurgence of my interest in The Stones with Jen Palmer’s talk until the events of the past week. Now, as with all after-the-fact syncs, the connection seems so obvious and I seem stoopidly slow in recognizing it, even though I also appear to be the first to point it out (much to the chagrin of those who would prefer I didn’t.)

RS= Rolling Stone; beginning with the Muddy Waters song from the 50’s,

then the band that Brian Jones founded in England in the early 60’s,

then the Bob Zimmerman song from ’66,

then Jan Wenner’s magazine featuring Hunter S. Thompson ,

and then Reality Sandwich founded by Daniel Pinchbeck.

Although my work has appeared in Reality Sandwich before, and Daniel had already gracefully acquiesced to running an excerpt from Accidental Initiations in RS, I was letting Jen shepherd my piece through the editorial process. I liked the idea of supporting the connection between Sync Book Press and Reality Sandwich, and I saw Jen’s relationship to both as being perfect for everyone. Also, I am cagey about dealing too much with Daniel. Other than a couple of conversations we had when he was courting my sacred whore girlfriend, he has a way of being that makes everything he says seem like a putdown. At least that’s the way I experience it. I think this actually works for him as a writer and invests his voice with an audacity and impatience I appreciate, but with our history, sometimes it seems easier not to engage him directly. Now I wish I had.

Sadly, Jen wasn’t really on her game as an editor that week and she waited to read the excerpt they were going to run until the night before it was due to hit the site. This, despite giving me her personal assurances that there would be no problem running it. When she finally read it she had problems with the excerpt from the “Cunt Punch” chapter, in which I get hit in the face by a woman who I made the blessed mistake of calling a “cunt”. Despite my frustration with her lack of professionalism and the way it messed with our promotional schedule, I was immediately intrigued with the sync between Jen’s reaction to my book and her talk at the Sync In The City event. So I wrote her an e-mail, one sync-head to another, pointing out the humor and, perhaps, the hypocrisy of invoking the cuntiest goddess of all time (Kali) and the biggest musical misogynists of their era (The Stones), and then clamping her mind like a chastity belt around the language in my book. In this late night e-mail (which probably should never have been sent) I urged her to “Own your lips girl!”

The next morning she wrote back; accusing that phrase of constituting “harassment”. Within a couple of hours my e-mail made the rounds at Reality Sandwich, with Jen repeating her “harassment” accusation against me. By 10am, a tersely worded e-mail from Daniel Pinchbeck himself informed us that Reality Sandwich would have nothing further to do with someone as “aggressive” and “insulting” as me.

Of all the things I’ve been called of late, these two are the most accurate. I am aggressive. These are desperate times, if not for the world; then for me personally. I’m at that age where you’ve got to wonder how much more juice you’ve got in you artistically, especially when you’re someone who works mostly in obscurity, on the far periphery of pop culture where poverty is a way of life. I’ve unleashed an aggressive part of myself with Accidental Initiations, and she is on a creative roll. Insulting? Toward a synchromystic poseur like Jen Palmer? Absolutely! A big sisterly, “own your lips girl” to her and anyone else who insults those who have genuinely been harassed; invoking that word just to get the upper hand on a colleague. My inner cunt loves to insult censorious prudes like Pinchbeck and his worshipful counter-culture cronies, always wondering why they won’t simply dance with us.

I have to work very hard to mitigate this bitch inside of me. Dancing to the Stones seems to help. Got to remember I have a man’s face and a man’s desires, and these are even scarier to my sisters than they are to me. I’m still a monkey man who, on some level, desires nothing more than power. I could have it if I let my inner She run the show, but at what cost? Kali knows. I’m not sure I want to. Now I guess I have to.

So, here I am again, accused of being some kind of dangerous man, specifically to women, when no women have been hurt by my actions. There is simply an editor in NYC who made a professional mistake, and got a sync-y late night e-mail with some intense Stonesian language in it. Rather than cop to her mistake like a professional and move on, she decided to get right by making me wrong, and bad. A bad, bad man. In the mean time, her boss; a man who enjoyed the affections of my sacred whore girlfriend, and has himself been erroneously accused of sexism in the past, is sending me pissy e-mails from the Global Love School in the hinterlands of Portugal as if I actually am the villain Jen claims. If I weren’t used to this kind of thing, it could really freak me out. How’d you like to be called a “harasser” and blacklisted by a well-known writer who fucked your girlfriend, while your first book is fending for its life in the counter-cultural marketplace? Luckily, I’ve been through this kind of thing before. Olympia has trained me well.

It is tempting to see these two manifestations of my shadow (Jen & Daniel) as villains. They are definitely being dickish or cuntish, depending on what second chakra word you choose to use to demean people who lack integrity and blame others for their inadequacies. You know? What I’m doing here (until I figure out how to do something else).

When people who I respect and feel connected to get this kind of weird with me, it has a strange effect. I get inspired, and the flip side of inspiration is obsession. So, here I find myself obsessed and inspired by this interaction. I may not be a harasser but I am definitely stalking the sync beyond what is generally considered polite. I am determined to unlock the energy in it.

Byte by byte?

At first, I was thinking Sync Book Press should organize some kind of debate. It would be hilarious! If Daniel or Jen debated me on the use of the word “cunt” in Accidental Initiations? Two men debating the word “cunt”?!? Or even worse/better, me debating a woman on the use of the word?  It’s Andy Kauffman-esque. From his wrestling women days.

I think my mind went in that direction because I desired some kind of human interaction with my accusers. Everything that has gone down between me and my old allies at Reality Sandwich happened by e-mail. It’s easy to write someone off this way, like dropping a bomb from above the clouds. Not so easy, for either of us, when we have to look at our target and feel their humanity in the same room with us.

At the urging of my friend and editor, Alan Green (in the form of an anecdote about The Who at The Rolling Stones’ Rock and Roll Circus in ’68 – you know the one?) I turned my inspiration away from direct engagement with the fragile folks at RS and toward my art. Within a day, I had a new song. It’s a Stonesian droning blues, with a snakey riff I’ve been noodling with for months. Once I knew what it was about, the lyrics came fast and deep. Jagger-style falsetto oo’s and big-mouth’d English twang make it a blast to sing, and the title is something I think Keith Richards, maybe even Brian Jones, would be proud of; “Reality Muffin (Own Your Lips Girl)”.

For the first time in years I wish I had a band.

The song is already embedded in Will Morgan’s first synchromystic exploration of my acting oeuvre.

I sent a copy of the acoustic demo to Daniel and Jen in an effort to raise our quarrel to a more creative level. Daniel called it more “harassment”. Jen didn’t respond. I’m not giving up on these folks, but I am also a little less obsessed with them and this issue, and more intrigued with the syncs, and the resulting art and alchemy they generated. I love playing this fresh new song, its arrival coinciding with my inclusion as a musician AND as the host of Radio8Ball in the upcoming Oly Music Awards at The Capitol Theater in Olympia, Washington on May 5th, 2012.

This is going to be a weekend of firsts and returns.

Friday, May 4th at 7pm I’ll be at Kitzel’s Crazy Delicious Delicatessen to discuss Accidental Initiations: In The Kabbalistic Tree of Olympia and take questions from my supporters and detractors. This will be the first opportunity for an in-person discussion of my book, and even the boring haters are invited.

Friday, May 4th at midnight I’ll be appearing at The Northern in Olympia as part of the Oly Music Awards. This will be my first live appearance performing my own music in Olympia since my divorce in 2003.

Saturday, May 5th at Noon I will lead the first group walk of The Kabbalistic Tree of Olympia. Anyone who has a copy of my book is welcome to join me. (Please get in touch at the e-mail at the bottom of this post to confirm your participation.)

Saturday, May 5th at The Oly Music Awards at the Capitol Theater at 9pm Radio8Ball returns to Olympia for the first time since my troubles at KAOS where I was actually harassed. This will be only my second appearance on the hallowed boards of The Capitol Theater since my rude dismissal from OFS back in ’04. (The first, being; accompanying Sandman: The Rappin’ Cowboy, when he performed at the Obama inaugural event in 2008.) I’m talking with some super cool guests for this show and am determined to make it as positive and transformational as the situation allows. Check back next week for more details on this event.

Things are shifting and I know it’s making some people, including myself, a little uncomfortable, but mostly I like it. Yeah, it’s only rock and roll but I like it. Yes I do.

Reality Muffin (Own Your Lips Girl)

You called on Kali and Kali called you back
but you wouldn’t pick up the phone
You called on Kali and Kali called you back
but you pretended that you weren’t home

Ooooo – You got to own your lips girl
Ooooo – What you say

Now you’re the victim and I’m the bad man
and you got control
but I ain’t no victim and you’re no bad man
Just fillin’ yo hole

Ooooo – You got town your lips girl
Ooooo – What you say (Reality)
Ooooo – You got town your lips girl
Ooooo – What you say (Reality)

You called on Kali and Kali called you back
but you pretended that you weren’t home
You called on Kali and Kali called you back
but you wouldn’t pick up the phone

Ooooo – You got town your lips girl
Ooooo – What you say (Reality)
Ooooo – You got town your lips girl
Ooooo – What you say (Reality)
Try some reality.
That’s my reality…muffin.

Like every song I’ve ever written, it’s going to end up being all about me. It’s the devil’s bargain of rock and roll. Whatever insult Pinchbeck and Palmer suffer at the hand of my muse will be nothing compared to what it costs me. Even as I write this, my phone is ringing, The Stones are doing “Fingerprint File” from 1974’s “It’s Only Rock and Roll” album, and my heart is filled with fear, as I just let it ring.

If you desire an mp3 demo of “Reality Muffin (Own Your Lips Girl) just send me an e-mail to a-n-d-r-a-s-j-o-n-e-s-@-r-a-d-i-o-8-b-a-l-l-.-c-o-m (minus the dashes) with the song title in the subject and I’ll send you the latest version for free.

Posted in Honor Among Men, Jews, Kabbalah, KAOS, Olympia, Olympia Film Society, Radio8Ball, Shmushkin, Synchronicity | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

A Narcissistic Misogynist with a Persecution Complex

They’re Heeee-re! The books, the first pilgrims, and the boring haters.

The books arrived this morning. Fifty of them. Ready to be delivered into the hungry little hands and curious minds of my fellow Olympians. They smell delicious. This weekend (March 30th) I’ll be making “Accidental Initiations: In The Kabbalistic Tree Of Olympia” available for the first time locally when I host The Blackberry Bushes and Dead Winter Carpenters at The Olympia Ballroom; a haunted venue featured in the book. We’re expecting some paranormal researchers from Bremerton to document the event, and I’ll even be slinging a couple of Radio8Ball divinations. I can’t imagine a better coming out party for my magickally-intended little tome.

This week has seen several visitors to Olympia. They came to ooh and ah over my galley copy of the book and walk The Tree. Dan Bern came through on his way to play a gig in Seattle. Brinke Stevens; my old cast-mate from Sorority Babes In The Slimeball Bowl-A-Rama, and our mutual friend/fan; Rhonda Baughman, came for a visit, stayed at Fertile Ground and enjoyed their sojourn in The Tree. They all seemed moved by the experience and full of optimism that many more intrepid seekers will be drawn to this artifact in the coming months and years. Dan envisioned Olympia turning into a northwestern Sedona, complete with a floating vortex casino, Kabballah ballrooms, and lots of nick-nack shops selling maps of The Tree and, of course, copies of my book. It sounds a bit nightmare-ish to me, but also kind of awesome. That’s the way Dan’s poetic mind has always worked.

The boring haters showed up in between the pilgrims and the books. A couple of days ago, one of the characters from AI; Merwyn Haskett, walked out of its pages and took center stage on the Amazon review boards.  He was the first to leave a testimonial. You can read it, and the corresponding kerfuffle, on my Amazon book page (while purchasing a copy or two in solidarity?). I just want to talk about the title of his review here. I have co-opted it as the title of this post.

“A Narcissistic Misogynist with a Persecution Complex”

While this kind of dramatic labeling of those we disagree with is nothing new in Olympia, in fact, it’s one of the negative patterns I take aim at in my book; I think we can have some fun dissecting the particular branding being directed at me and my book by Mr. Haskett.

It is true. Accidental Initiations is a deeply narcissistic book. It’s basically just me writing about myself and the things that have happened to me in and around The Kabbalistic Tree of Olympia. When I’m not talking about myself I’m sharing my thoughts about the world. There is almost no listening in my book whatsoever. Just pages and pages of me writing.  Perhaps if I had left some pages blank it would have created more room for others to express themselves. Now my oppressed readers have to write in the margins, or post on Amazon, if they want to get a word in edgewise. How do other writers solve this conundrum?

As for being a misogynist; it’s hard to prove a negative. I know I don’t consciously hate women. I suppose that, just like I could be a deeply closeted gay man, even though I’ve never had sex with a man and don’t plan to; I could be a very repressed misogynist who only thinks he loves and admires women as mentors, allies, friends, collaborators, sisters, and potential lovers. Misogyny is a pretty intense label. The hatred of women? I mean, sometimes I hate everyone. We all have our bad days.  Sometimes I get annoyed at certain women, and even at some general patterns of behavior that some women fall into, such as, I don’t know, expecting men to pay for stuff, or having to pee all the time, but it certainly doesn’t rise to the level of hatred. There is an interesting question here. Will misogynists find comfort in my book? I would be surprised if they did. If I am a misogynist it’s a particularly femme-y goddess-loving brand of misogyny. Not exactly something Rush Limbaugh’s going to go for.

Now, when Merwyn says I have a persecution complex he is right. I got it from being persecuted. I was raised by people who were persecuted in Europe and America; as Jews and as Communists. This kind of thing shapes the way a person views the world, leading to a potentially more complex understanding of persecution than those who have been raised without the fear of genocides and blacklists informing the parenting they receive. Some of the things that have happened to me personally, first as a child in the Olympia school system, and then as an adult living in Olympia – things I write about in AI, have felt oppressive. Radio8Ball being taken off the air and lied about by KAOS administrators is a ready example, or the way Merwyn and his wife, Tammy, led a campaign of harassment against me that she confesses to in my book. There is even something persecutorial about Merwyn’s name-calling review, clearly posted with the intent of scaring people, particularly women, away from my book.

When Tammy T initially got in touch with me to try and make things right, eventually leading to the confession that lives at the center of AI, she told me she was doing so behind Merwyn’s back; I assume because he is the one who has a hard-on for me. And not in the good way. He has a long history of lashing out and posting negative things about me online; just like he’s doing with his review. I seriously doubt Tammy would have gotten into any of the mischief she confesses to in my book if he hadn’t goaded her into it, which is why she couldn’t tell him she was racked with guilt and needed, for her own sake, to make peace with me. For this reason, I’m kind of glad he outed himself this week. I really downplayed his role in AI because I didn’t want to invest any more energy in his direction than I had to. The truth is; he is a huge part of my accidental initiation, in that during the entirety of my practice with The Tree he has worked in the office directly across the street from The Capitol Lake dam, right before the Chokmah Mound. His offices used to be an old-school Kentucky Fried Chicken I loved to go to with my father when I was chicken-eating child. Now it’s some kind of administrative building and Merwyn is the receptionist, with a clear view of the lake from his desk. Every time I descend the stairs, after “emptying my cup” into the vortex/abyss, he is waiting there for me. I am very aware of him. I assume he sees me, has seen me over the years. Perhaps he has even wondered what I am up to (What’s he building in there?). Part of my meditation is to forgive him. It has to be. Otherwise I’d be consumed with hatred, and all my good work would be for naught. I’ve come to appreciate the influence his presence has had in deepening my practice with The Tree, and in developing my own reserves of wisdom and mercy. Don’t get me wrong. I would still like to punch him in the face. I just don’t allow myself to gnaw on that particular brain bone for very long before breathing it out.

I’ve been telling people that, if “Accidental Initiations” were a movie, the end of the book would only be the end of the second act. The third act begins now, and with it, a star is born! Originally cast in a minor role, Merwyn Haskett, has distinguished himself as a major player; the epitome of the boring hater. Who do you think should play him in the movie?

Merwyn Haskett

Note: I know it’s a tad hypocritical for me to take Merwyn to task for labeling me, and then cast him as a “boring hater”. I hope this is mitigated by the fact that, rather than inaccurately branding him as an anti-semite or an abusive boyfriend, labels which carry the sting of history. The label of “boring hater” is fresh and made up especially by me for him and his ilk. Also, it’s accurate. He is clearly a hater and I am unaware of him ever creating anything beautiful, just shitting on those who do. He’s already less boring to me now than he was before I wrote this.

Yay ART!

Posted in Boring Haters, Jews, Kabbalah, KAOS, Olympia, Paranormal Activity, Radio8Ball, Synchronicity | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Spring Sprung – The Initiation Has Begun

Dear One and All,

Last June 16th I started writing. Now, at the spring equinox, it is a book; Accidental Initiations: In The Kabbalistic Tree Of Olympia, published by Sync Book Press.

It drops at 10:14pm (PST) TONIGHT!

I never intended to write this or any other book but the words started to flow and then a publisher found me, and they LOVE IT. It’s probably too intimate and (I am told) quite funny. What I know is that it is very present. So much so, you might even be in it, and if you aren’t you still might feel like you are.

Writing this thing has broken me in several ways, mostly good, but my bank account is basically empty and I could sure use your support. If you ever loved me or my music or my movies or Radio8Ball, please give this book a shot and tell your friends to do likewise. I need to sell about a thousand of ‘em to get out from under my current situation.

You can purchase the book from Createspace.com after 10:14pm (pst) tonight, when winter turns to spring by clicking on the book cover or this link.

In the mean time, if you’re feeling particularly flush and patronly, I invite you to send any amount over $20 to my paypal account (andras-jones@radio-8-ball.com – remove the dashes I put in the address to fool the spybots) and I’ll personally send the book to you (autographed) with some extras from The Previous vaults.

Thank you for your continued attention.

Andras Jones
@radio8ball (on Twitter)

PS – This book contains adult language and content.

Posted in Kabbalah, Olympia, Synchronicity, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Something Solar Starting

If one arrives at a place of power; at a time when the power is at it’s greatest, and no one else is there…What is one to make of it?

This is what I was thinking, standing atop the Chokmah mound watching the night; full of auroras and borealises; dwindling to dawn while, unbeknownst to me, massive solar storms bombarded the earth. This was my last full moon walk of The Tree before the release of Accidental Initiations and, even after so many perambulations inside this archetypal structure, there was still plenty new to discover.

The galleys for the book arrived later that day. I’ve spent almost every waking hour since then giving them a rigorous last going over with my editor; Alan Abbadessa-Green from Sync Book Press. No way could I have done it without him. He’s been the great music producer/record exec I always wanted to find when I was making records. His energy and attention are limitless and his insights are genuine. Plus, he has George (his “wife”) in the background keeping him (and by extension, me) honest; talking trash and giving (mostly) good note.

Last night, as a test of the readability of the book, I brought the latest draft with me to Quality Burrito; to see if I could read it with distractions. I used to do something similar with my recordings; playing them in a crowd so I could hear the generalities of the music and not the glaring specifics that can obsess you in the final stages of mixing.

It was strange; being there with my book. Several people who are in it were gathered around the bar; drinking in the lounge as I ordered my usual; 2 fish tacos, and an Andras – a drink I designed and they named after me. (The recipe: 2 oz tequila, ¾ oz lime, ¾ oz simple syrup, ½ oz Green Chartreuse. Shake with ice and serve in a pint glass topped with Magic Kombucha.) Jeff Bartone was there, and Peter David Connelly, and Theo Kwo (who makes the Magic Kombucha). I showed Kwo the part in the book where I mention Magic. I told Peter about his being mentioned in the list of artists who have appeared on Radio8Ball. Bartone sauntered over and asked to look at it. As he flipped through the pages he saw his name.

“Did you write about me?”

“Yes I did.”

“Why didn’t you ask me about that? You should have asked me.”

I’m going to have to address this concern a lot in the coming months. I didn’t check with anyone I wrote about to see if they were OK with my including them, and I know, this isn’t altogether honorable of me. But it’s my story and the people in it are real. The things that happened in it are real and I knew if I started asking people, especially in Olympia, what they thought about me telling my story; I would be encouraged not to. This shushing impulse is exactly why I had to write the book in the first place. Olympia is sick with silence.

Now it can be told!

“Just don’t hurt me,” Jeff said. “I’ve been hurt a lot.”

You and me both, brother.  As readers of AI will soon know, Jeff and I each got labeled as “sexists” and were fired from our long-held positions at The Olympia Film Society by low integrity people possessed of greedy ambition who manipulated administrative processes to serve their own aims and NOT the community they purport to represent. If Jeff’s reaction last night was anything to go by, he’s still aching from the experience at least as much as I am, and that’s a lot.

It seems the boring haters at OFS are at it again.

I woke up early this blustery morning, to send off the last edit of AI to the printers, and was synchronistically jazzed to receive this latest petition from members of The Olympia Film Society.
It looks like some of the old familiar characters at OFS are up to the same kind of sneaky power grab I describe in my book. With the above petition, the membership is trying to do something about it. I wish them luck, and I wish Accidental Initiations was here today to aid them in their cause. It should be available online by March 19th (the spring equinox) and I will have copies for sale when I host The Blackberry Bushes Stringband and The Dead Winter Carpenters show at The Olympia Ballroom inside The Olympian Hotel on March 30th.

In the mean time, if you’d like to show your support for Radio8Ball and Accidental Initiations here’s something easy you can do. Go to this link (below) and vote for “Andras Jones” and “Radio8Ball” as your favorite Olympia solo artist and band.

If we get the most votes, they will have to include Radio8Ball as part of the award show at The Capitol Theater on May 5th. If you are from Olympia and want to vote for some other artists, I understand.

I voted for The Noses

and for Scott Taylor

but if you don’t have a more favorite Olympia band, please give me your vote and I promise to make some serious magick when I return to The Capitol Theater stage for the first time in many years.

Posted in Kabbalah, Olympia, Olympia Film Society, Power, Synchronicity | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Eat My Shorts

Accidental Initiations: In The Kabbalistic Tree of Olympia” went to press today. In retrospect it will all seem to have happened incredibly fast but it’s been a long nine months since I first conceived this thing. I am raw, and excited. There really is something in AI’s one hundred and eighty-four pages for anyone to hate, which is why I have tried very hard to make it a fun read; something even a hater can love.

Someone wrote this on the western railing of The Tiphareth Gazebo this week:
That’s five “Eat My Shorts”.
All capitalized.
Eleven letters per phrase.
Fifty-five characters in all.
Doing the numerology we get ONE:
Now multiply that times 5, and we’re back to FIVE.
Five fingers make One hand, or a fist.
One Love
“One is the loneliest number…
Five to One, One in Five…
Bogie won his Oscar in ‘51
so did “An American In Paris
(think dead Jim Morrison)
and one of their Oscars lives here in Olympia;
the legacy of Arthur Freed.
Five plus One equals Six;
the number of sides to The Tiphareth Gazebo,
which was freed from its confinement,
like the sword of Arthurian legend,
by the magick in Accidental Initiations

which is short
and will be here shortly
(March 19th;
the spring equinox.)
You will R(EAT)D it.
This is your EMS prescription…

Evergreen alum Matt Groening created the puckish Bart Simpson, and here we find Bart’s catch phrase scrawled detention-style along the green (heart) path of Strength/Voice binding the poles of Severity (The Geburah Corner) and Mercy (Emma Page’s Fountain.)

It’s not easy to imagine Bart Simpson writing a book but a year ago it would have been hard to imagine me writing a book. Now that I think of it, my writing style is kind of Bart-ish – if Bart read a lot of Robert Anton Wilson, and grew up in Olympia, and was Jewish.  So I guess it’s not the voice, it’s more the untamed boyish glee at dropping something from a great height and watching it explode.

Look out below!!!! You are about to get accidentally initiated!!!!!!

Posted in Kabbalah, Numerology, Olympia, Synchronicity | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Reaching for The Castle

This photo was taken on the banks of The Capitol Lake Vortex, just beyond The Binah Swirl and before the first Daath Crossing. It’s what this February feels like inside The Kabbalistic Tree of Olympia.

Posted in Kabbalah, Olympia, Synchronicity, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

SYNC in NYC, The GATE in LA & Organs in The Tree

On the night of the Leo full moon in Gregorian 2012 a vintage 1970’s organ showed up in front of the time capsule bench on the Chokmah Mound. My camera’s flash wasn’t working, it was devilishly cold out, and by morning the organ was gone without any documentation of this playful Punch Drunk Love-ish offering to The Tree.

On the same night I noticed a pentagram drawn into The Binah Swirl. The Kabbalistic Tree of Olympia is waking up and people are using it for magick. Bless them!

In New York City at The Sync Event on January 31st, a coin which had been sitting on the lip of the tip The Statue of Yesod (see The Value of Offerings section of “How To Walk The Tree In The Moonlight”) went to a virgin-resonating ballerina from Virginia. She asked a question about the meaning of her recurring teen dreams about losing her teeth. The Pop Oracle’s answer for her was my rendition of Shmushkin’s song, “Punkin Lovin’”.

The SYNC event included discussions of Blue Monkeys (resonating with the 13 Moon Natural Time Calendar)

and me getting called an asshole onstage…twice by Alan Abbadessa-Green, who earlier that day told an old lady on the subway to “Fuck-off… Now you fucking hear me!!” It was all refreshingly New York. Olympia’s nice but sometimes its niceness becomes oppressive and one yearns for some open hostility. And NYC provides it. A city where you need to hit some tobacco to get a breath of fresh air, but you won’t get cancer from keeping your emotions in your gut.

The whole Sync gang, as far as they were able to make it, were great at summoning up the sync. Rammer, Jen, Peg, Douglas, Kevin & Kyle, The Mask of God Dancers. Good stuff all around, and Alan held it together like a great director; wearing his stress well. Steve Willner (Labrynth of the Psychonaut) and Rogan Russell Marshall (The Attic Expeditions) each Skyped in to ask a question to The Pop Oracle and by the end of the night, as it always does after getting really uncomfortable, it all made perfect sense, and more so all the time. The event was filmed and at least some of it should find its way onto the web at some point.

Later that week in LA, GATE (Global Alliance for Transformational Entertainment) held their yearly live event featuring, among others, Eckhart Tolle, Jim Carrey, Marianne Williamson, Edward James Olmos, Barbara Marx Hubbard and Lili Haydn (who stole the show). There had been talk earlier in the year of incorporating Radio8Ball as a part of the event but it didn’t work out this time. Next time perhaps.

Fans of The 13 Moon Natural Time Calendar will note that we began what that calendar refers to as a galactic run on Friday, Feb 3 (the day before the opening of The GATE.) It ends today; Sunday, Feb 12. This phenomenon has been described to me by people fluent with the calendar as a time when the veil is thinner. For me the themes of this galactic run have been very challenging; disappointment, sorrow, futility, oppression, cruelty. It’s the Tower card from the Tarot, as February always is, only this year “the world is ending” or at least that’s what hovers at the edge of our consciousness. You can either let these portents of doom scare you off your path, or allow them to inspire and refine what the Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo Buddhists call your ichinen, or will.

The GATE, as well as being a great metaphor, is an ambitiously-intentioned organization. On the day of their event in LA I woke up in Boston and flew all east coast day to Seattle. I watched the event live online into the wee west coast hours from my bed in Olympia. It was mostly riveting viewing, aimed at inspiring Hollywood to recognize the market for consciousness raising content. The existence of this market is proven out by the huge sales for really bad films like The Secret and What The Bleep Do We Know? The value of the consciousness raising aspects of these two egregiously awful films in particular, made them worth watching despite their low production value; kind of like porn or instructional guitar playing videos, except that The Secret and What the Bleep did much bigger numbers, and across a wider spectrum of humanity, than anything Yngwie Malmsteen or Jenna Jameson ever churned out. Why? Because Americans are hungry for whatever enlightenment we can get. The argument to the capitalist powers in Hollywood, that they would do well to recognize this large and ravenous audience, clearly serves Radio8Ball’s case for inclusion in the mainstream media landscape, so I’m down.

For me the two events (SYNC in NYC & The GATE in LA) were woven together within whatever larger spell Accidental Initiations is a part of because Linda Balaban (Curb Your Enthusiasm) was there as a guest of Lili Haydn on behalf of Radio8Ball. My ghosts were giddy over this alignment, especially the spirit of my old Boon bandmate Josh Clayton-Felt. Josh and Lili and Linda and I ran in intimate youthful circles back when we were all bouncing around in LA and Boston; pre-death, pre-fame, pre-alcohol. And here we were, together again at The Gate.

Lili’s mom, Lotus Weinstock, who was my adopted mother when I moved out to LA as a teenager, and who died a couple of years before Josh, joined my gang of ghosts as I ran my Tree that day. While her daughter made like Jimi at Monterey and showed the old warriors and new initiates at The GATE what consciousness-raising art is all about, I could feel Lotus and Josh and my father all gathered around me to enjoy the show. Hovering on the edge my being as I sent my intentions out through The Tree for… RADIO8BALL… RADIO8BALL… RADIO8BALL… RADIO8BALL… RADIO8BALL…

It’s my consistent prayer and offering, “I serve it as it serves me. The land and the king are one. Radio8Ball on TV!”

Balaban met one person of note at The GATE as far as R8B is concerned; Tom Shadyac.
Tom is the director, most recently, of the documentary film “I Am”;

all about his spiritual quest for meaning after suffering a brain injury in a nasty bike accident. I can’t help but think of Warren Beatty’s “Heaven Can Wait”.

Before the accident Tom was the director of huge money making middle of the road comedies like “Ace Ventura”, “The (Eddie Murphy) Nutty Professor”, “Bruce (And Evan) Almighty” & “Patch Adams”. After the accident, Tom pulled a “Sullivan’s Travels” and re-made himself as a kind of Beach Blanket Bingo angel; giving away most of his possessions and moving into a trailer on the beach, devoting himself to learning and teaching.

Before all of this, in the late 20th century days when Josh and Lotus and my father still walked the earth, Tom was my acting teacher. His impact on the man I would become was great, as I documented in Accidental Initiations. That he would show up in response to my prayers and intentions on this auspicious evening, felt just right, if only so I could get his address so I can send him a copy of the book. In truth, I can’t help but hope my old teacher, big-hearted Tom Shadyac, recognizes that his “I Am” path and that of Radio8Ball are one and the same. I want to join forces, like old times. It’s a good wish that leaves me filled with all the hope and disappointment bred of years of reaching for community in the Hollywood fear factory.

And so I balance here. Hanging in the central pillar of my Tree with my heart out there for all to see. It’s February, in the shadow of the thaw, and the days are dark and pregnant. The omens are incessantly negative with overwhelming moments of inspiration sprinkled in like raisins in a boring cookie, or out-of-place organs deposited in the sephiroth of the Tree. I sit in my apartment like a drunken spider in its winter web, barely living but still vital, waiting for Accidental Initiations to drop and do whatever magick we have been called to.

Posted in 13 Moon Natural Time Calendar, Kabbalah, Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo, Olympia, Radio8Ball, Shmushkin, Synchronicity, The GATE, The Pop Oracle, The Sync Book | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments