Vince Guaraldi

A Charlie Brown Christmas.

How funny these times remind me of the year end, the autumn leaves and the autumn season which is supposed to start tomorrow, makes me feel oddly at peace yet nostalgic. Understanding my North Node was an important key component today. I’m all that red, black and burgundy jazz.

Red velvet cakes were on my mind today. I was feeling an abundance of self love today if I cannot manage to spend some time with my partner.

Vince Guaraldi, Astor Piazolla and most importantly Bola Sete have saved me today. I am trying to understand my emotions and motive for action at this moment. I feel full from the over abundance of good food I whipped up for myself.

My thoughts are not flowing, I feel I should watch something decadent for the senses. Goodnight.


Buddha Bar

this is the story of how the buddha bar came into existence:

One day, there was this man who acclaimed to be one of the buddha’s followers but still wanted a drink, an alcoholic drink. Now, buddha never said no to alcohol unlike Jainism counterparts, so this follower was thinking whether it (yes, it started calling itself “It” because It became asexual and also equated asexuality with no self – which by any terms did not make full sense,  but the premise still works nevertheless).

So he went to this drinking place full of rowdy cowboys and what the society would call – “low lives” (we’re talking about drug dealers, cartels, wipers etc.). It wanted to understand how could one merge both aspects – of the material world and the spiritual world. So It assessed its needs, gathered some invisible might (conjuring energies, one would call it). Lo and behold, It realized that there shall be a buddha bar.

And there it was, It took the place of the bartender, said to him :”I’m the innovator, and this buddha bar shall flourish,” in a sullen humor tone.

Where is the buddha aspect then? You’re curious, I’m curious too. It turned out that the buddha aspect was in the ambience itself – candles, buddha figurines. For some, it felt erotic but oddly conservative at the same time; for some, it felt like a luxury.


Well, that was some horse shisse.

The Boy With A Parrot

so it begins with the boy with dreadlocks and his parrot pet.

I was happily eating and finishing up my double chip cookies while this sight caught my eye. Blond dreadlocks guy, with really elaborately patterned orange tights and knee high boots, and a parrot perched on his shoulder. I was very amused at the sight.

As usual, I would try to take a picture of the sight, but this time I let it go and just let it be. He kissed his parrot as if it were his most precious possession, and for me to call his parrot a possession is a bad thing. The parrot must have been his friend, his loyal companion for life.

I was staring through the glass windows with intent, hoping that he’d take a look my way and we could acquaint each other or exchange a grin, and sending each other good thoughts before continuing our ongoing journey.

Well, he didn’t look back and I was fine with that. The fact that I got to witness such rarity in this society really made me feel some sort of way. Whatever his story is or was, I would’ve been curious to know.

For some reason I felt he was German, or if he isn’t, probably Scandinavian.