Dr. Cereal

• grass is growing in my formerly barren backyard (after lots of coaxing and 480lbs of topsoil).
• Upon attending the Brooklyn Hip Hop festival last Saturday under the shadow of the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges I was moved to hear–and feel–the overwhelming message, as KRS-One put it, of “peace, love, and unity.” The music is evolving. This isn’t your daddy’s hip hop. Buckshot took care of the “put your hands in the air, and wave ‘em like you just don’t care!” and the “I’m the rappinest rapper this side o’ the Mississippi, yeah, me, me, me, me, gimme gimme” song, which seem to be unavoidable at any given show, though it surprises me to see that people are still doing it.
• Victor is moving to the ‘hood finally. (From Queens to Brooklyn).
• My attitude toward the rain has gone from annoyance at the inconvenience to gratitude for the life it brings to my plants (as well as all the others around).  I heard someone recently say that when it rains, you don’t get wet, you “feel the rain.” I don’t know if I’ve reached that point, but I can overlook the annoyance of damp britches for healthy tomatoes.
• Most of the people in my building now give me their compost. It feels great to feed the yard instead of a landfill.
• Reading: Los Detectives Salvajes by Roberto Bolaño and back issues of Harper’s. Currently “A Mind Dismembered: In Search of the Magical Penis Thieves,” an article about the phenomenon of penis dissapearance or shrinkage by means of spells or witchcraft in Nigeria. The accused is often questioned, beaten, and hanged if there is no intervention. This sort of social histeria apparently occurs in many non-western cultures, dating back as far as 300 BC.
• Listening to: Memphis Jug Band. The next song I record will have a jug instead of bass guitar.
• I’m biking 15-20 miles a day and it feels awesome.
• After 6 months of training with my martial arts instructor, I’ll be attending my first workshop with Grand Master Duncan this weekend.