Stuart's Blog

Dharma and Art / Linguistics

my friend Vidyuddeva just told me in an email that the words 'art' and 'dharma' share a common root in their original indo-euro language. i wonder which one? sanskrit, i'm guessing. it always comes down to sanskrit with this stuff, dohn it. it makes me want to make dharma and art have the same root in IS (the language i've been constructing for some time), but that's derivitive. of course you can't avoid derivation, but one can at least lean toward invention rather than reconstitution. IS is about two years into the process, it's very slow work, creating a language.

Rocky Mountain High

one of the many great things about living in Colorado is the weather. driving around all summer with the top off the jeep makes me want get naked and inhale the planet through my nose. every night, it's insanely beautiful here, no humidity, just clear, crisp, perfect air.

witness it, bitch

Spent last night scrambling to put together the video episode for this weeks stu-cam installment. everything i looked at with me in it made me want to puke. i was like "someone get this guy to shut up" and 'oh, i've only seen him do THIS four times before...". then my wife told me: "honey, you are so reactive. you're just upset because you don't have anything and it's deadline time..." and i was tacit, because is SO right. i have become one reactive son of a bitch. and why?

Alex Grey

interviewed alex grey last night for what a love agent. alex has been one of the love ninjas since way way back, almost thirty years now, and the same goes for his wife, Alison. they're sort of the kind and queen of the entheogenic transcendental homecoming dance, you know? it's good to talk to someone who i love and admire so much who's used state-altering, consciousness expanding drugs in the service of their spiritual practice, and not merely as an entertainment device for their pathological self.

Rufus Wainwright

Half the time I don't have a clue what Rufus Wainwright is singing, and who gives a shit? his voice is a mellifluous opium den. go inside and next thing you know it's four days later and there's drool dangling from your chin to the floor. now this is a guy who simply is incapable of rushing a song. i bet they give him coke just to get him singing in the same measure as the band. he is behind the beat, dead center in ultra cool. and he holds the notes. sometimes i'm like "is this still this, note?


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Davis is deeply interested in spirituality, and it makes him a powerful songwriter.

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