Since I've got my tape deck finally hooked up nicely through the mixer into my computer again, and have the gumption, I'm finally putting it into heavy rotation and in the last 24 hours have digitized:

Ministry then Pixies (a.k.a. MTP)

Sunshine Saturday

Dinkytown Squared Ksd25

Twin Star falling

Wrestle!

Up Ankh

Alien Litmus Test

Welcome to Prismatic Tambourine Factory

More to come.

colors: brown, black, and gray. wish they were red white and blue today, but was up late at summerfest last night seeing moby and rachel yamagata, and feeling kinda washed out.

mood: washed out, but with potential

kind or unkind thought for the day: last night at the moby show, there were so many huge Miller Lite advertisements all over the place that i couldn't help thinking that his show was a 90 minute ad for the beer. The show was quite good, and they did doors and led zeppelin covers.

starpower: 0.1 thurstons

chant: om mani padme hum

From www.dharma-haven.org:

The True Sound of Truth

An old story speaks about a similar problem. A devoted meditator, after years concentrating on a particular mantra, had attained enough insight to begin teaching. The student's humility was far from perfect, but the teachers at the monastery were not worried.

A few years of successful teaching left the meditator with no thoughts about learning from anyone; but upon hearing about a famous hermit living nearby, the opportunity was too exciting to be passed up.

The hermit lived alone on an island at the middle of a lake, so the meditator hired a man with a boat to row across to the island. The meditator was very respectful of the old hermit. As they shared some tea made with herbs the meditator asked him about his spiritual practice. The old man said he had no spiritual practice, except for a mantra which he repeated all the time to himself. The meditator was pleased: the hermit was using the same mantra he used himself -- but when the hermit spoke the mantra aloud, the meditator was horrified!

"What's wrong?" asked the hermit.

"I don't know what to say. I'm afraid you've wasted your whole life! You are pronouncing the mantra incorrectly!"

"Oh, Dear! That is terrible. How should I say it?"

The meditator gave the correct pronunciation, and the old hermit was very grateful, asking to be left alone so he could get started right away. On the way back across the lake the meditator, now confirmed as an accomplished teacher, was pondering the sad fate of the hermit.

"It's so fortunate that I came along. At least he will have a little time to practice correctly before he dies." Just then, the meditator noticed that the boatman was looking quite shocked, and turned to see the hermit standing respectfully on the water, next to the boat.

"Excuse me, please. I hate to bother you, but I've forgotten the correct pronunciation again. Would you please repeat it for me?"

"You obviously don't need it," stammered the meditator; but the old man persisted in his polite request until the meditator relented and told him again the way he thought the mantra should be pronounced.

The old hermit was saying the mantra very carefully, slowly, over and over, as he walked across the surface of the water back to the island.

a fran-style bus hug to ya,
joel