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Yes, pura vida, literally “pure life,” is the ubiquitous motto heard in Costa Rica. I think it’s supposed to represent the idea of living a peaceful life, surrounded by natural beauty, good friends and family. Sounds good, right? Well, lately it seems like it might easily be translated as “sell your country out to greedy developers and rob the tourists blind.”

I gotta say, the country has changed in the fifteen years since I was first there. I’ve been there four times now. Although I’ve never seen all that much of the country, this last time I was struck by a couple of things. The first is that it’s becoming overrun by tourists, and the second is that it’s getting pretty damn expensive, which is not good for either low budget travelers, such as myself, or the locals. Wages have not come close to keeping pace with the rising cost of living.

Which leads inevitably to property theft, which in turn leads inevitably to the main reason for my discontent, namely, I got frickin’ robbed in Jacó! Not just robbed, but fleeced, in fact. I lost my laptop, which I was silly enough to bring along, my camera, passport, iPod, reading glasses, cell phone, books, etc. Yeah, so it was stupid to have all that in one bag, I admit. Still, that’s the only time in my semi-extensive travels that I’ve been so thoroughly jacked.

I won’t go into the gruesome details, because I don’t really want to relive them any more than I have to. Suffice to say, it was an unpleasant experience in the extreme, and I would still cheerfully bullwhip the parasitic douche bags responsible. But, every event is an opportunity to learn, right? From this I learned that all possessions are transitory, and the important things to remember are the good times from the trip; seeing my sister, playing in the surf with my niece munchkins, and drinking Guaro and Pilsens while playing Nintendo with my sister and brother-in-law that last night.

Still, it’s kinda sad to see such a lovely country go down the road to rampant over-development. I mean, I don’t think Costa Rica is really anything to write home about culturally. Give me Mexico or Bolivia any time. But, it’s hard to deny it’s a very beautiful place. It’s also had the good luck of having a fairly broad base, economically and politically, and avoiding the typical oligarchy/military dictatorship to support an export based economy that typifies other countries in Central America. Maybe that’s what provided the basis for the extreme tourism and hence development. It’s a stable social democracy, and therefor is able to attract the normally cautious or paranoid (American) traveler.

I met a Costa Rican guy on the plane home who told me that CR gets two million tourist every year, and the native population is only four million. Imagine 150 million tourists visiting the states every year, and the effect that might have. My impression is that rich developers in Costa Rica, coupled with an influx of baby boomer expat dollars has a lot to do with it. And, let’s face it, some people look at a beautiful wetlands bordering a pristine beach, and all they can see are hotels, luxury condos, and the local version of Señor Frog’s.

Now, the cost of living for normal folks is way up, and consequently so is property theft. Prices in San Jose seemed to be almost as high as Portland, but your average working stiff is still only making a few hundred bucks a month. Hard to reconcile those two things. I’ve never spent much time in San Jose, but it seemed to me there were more homeless folks this time around.

Walking down the street in San Jose my last night, I had an experience that left an image I won’t soon forget. As I walked down the sidewalk, a junkie scuttled out of a doorway, spoon in hand, and squatted in the gutter to scoop up a bit of greasy water. I passed him on the way to the bodega on the corner, and thought to myself “please tell me you’re not going to cook up your fix with that nasty shit.” Sure enough, on my way back there he was, patiently holding a butane lighter under that same spoon, a tiny little white rock in the middle of a pool of that same water.

Now, I don’t know if you can blame that on over-development and greed, but hey, why not do it anyway? In the meantime, I think I’ll focus on traveling to other places I’ve never been, so Costa Rica shall lose my meager dollars. I might still go hang out at my cousin’s place some time, but otherwise, it’s a big damn world out there, most of which I’ve still never seen.

None of this is meant to dissuade anyone from going, of course. But unless you’re a white, middle-aged prevert, I’d stay the hell away from Jacó.

The other night I wandered downtown to see the Hollywood schlock-fest I Am Legend. I needed a bit of escapist fantasy time, and I love a good zombie movie. I didn’t think it was too bad, for a Hollywood blockbuster. One of my guilty pleasures.

It’s funny though, but walking back to my car through the drizzly streets of Portland, I was struck by a profound sense of despair. This is not uncommon, because I happen to read from time to time, and pay attention to what’s going on in the world. Yeah, it’s a curse. This particular bout of despair I treated with the usual; beer, human contact, and some more beer, with mixed success.

Alas, this is always a temporary relief, because let’s face it, there’s reason to despair these days. Global warming, environmental degradation, peak oil, ignorance, hate — it’s a goddamn smorgasbord of reasons to feel blue. Also, I prefer to temporarily numb my brain with alcohol, as opposed to permanently reprogramming it with television. I’m sure I could buy a big flat screen and spend my evenings zoning out on the latest pablum, instead of, say, reading and thinking about shit. I’m sure all those irritating concerns would wither under a daily onslaught of consumerist propaganda. Frankly, I’d rather be depressed.

Recently, I’ve been exposed to the ideas of several people that have enhanced my understanding of the world and it’s trajectory, and helped dispel a tiny bit of my profound ignorance. I’d highly recommend reading all these cats (or looking them up on Google Video), in no particular order; Derrick Jensen, Terrence McKenna, and Ken Wilber.

I’m going to go ahead and blame Jensen for my recent bout of despair. He’s big on bashing hope, which he defines as a longing for a future condition over which you have no agency. That pretty much sums it up, doesn’t it? I don’t hope I’m going to eat tomorrow. I’m fucking committed to it. I’m going to get hungry, and I’m going to eat. That’s simple. On the other hand, I hope I don’t get cancer from all those cigarettes I used to smoke. Big difference.

And, I think there was a little death of hope in me that night. Or, maybe it’s been a long time coming, and reading Jensen was just a nail in the coffin. Let’s face it, the shit’s going to hit the fan in the next decade or so, and hope’s not going to change that. Neither is technology, regardless of what some evangelists might like to believe. The only thing that is going to effect the outcome, and the future viability of human civilization (or the human species), is a radical shift in human consciousness.

Personally, I think this shift in human consciousness is a requirement for the long term survival of the ecosystem as we know it. At this point in time, human civilization, the survival of the human species, and by extension, the survival of higher life forms, are all inextricably tied together. So, while Jensen calls for taking down civilization, I don’t think that’s even possible without an accompanying change in how humans view the world, and their relation to it. Trying to undermine civilization at this point would be the most divisive event in human history, leading to civil unrest, state repression, civil war, and ultimately global war, and the end of almost all life on the planet.

Well, that’s my prediction anyway. I could be wrong. I just think the too many people, mainly “civilized”, western people, are so entrenched in their materialist, consumer identities that they’ll fight to the death to keep them, clinging to their self-delusions until their dying breath. Most of us already accept the idea that grinding up the planet and turning it into cars and flat-screen TV’s and Britney Spears CD’s and cheap, plastic crap from Walmart is not only a fine idea, but the very essence of advanced, human existence.

People who view the world as an infinite resource to be exploited, and an infinite toilet in which to shit, will not tolerate, much less understand the rationale behind, blowing up a damn, or a factory, or a bulldozer about to scrape the living soil from yet another patch of ground in order to erect yet another scab of prefab homes. We are, as a society, committed to growth at any cost. It’s the very basis for the economy. Anyone who seriously threatens that will be labeled a terrorist, and “right thinking” people will cheer as Blackwater goons beat them with clubs and then ship them off to Gitmo.

Yeah, I guess I’m a cynic. No, actually I know I’m a cynic, in the classical Greek sense of the word. And, although I can’t (yet) agree with Jensen’s solution, I think he’s invaluable to read. Everybody should read him, because his indictments and premises are challenging, heartbreaking, and spot on.

And, after reading him, be sure to check out what Terrence McKenna has to say, and it might save you from either blowing something up, or tumbling into a pit of despair. My idea that the human race needs a radical shift in consciousness comes from him, and I’ll let you discover his solution on your own. Suffice to say he’s brilliant and incredibly insightful, and one of the most entertaining and witty people you’ll ever hear talk about such important issues.

But that’s it for me. Tomorrow I fly to Costa Rica to enjoy some tropical heat, and a meander up through Nicaragua, where people (I expect) are not quite so insane, and have their priorities a bit more in order. One can hope, anyway.

Happy New Year, y’all. May 2008 bring you health, happiness and growth. Enjoy what you find, enjoy the moment, enjoy the beauty of it all.

Peace.

We get a lot of emails here at world headquarters - angry rants, marriage proposals, declarations of undying fealty, etc. Generally, I just forward those along to my personal assistant, who dutifully categorizes them by subject, prints them out on paper pilfered from the local grammar school, binds them in harp seal skin, and stacks them in the storage closet. Then, we use them to soak up bong water spills, or as emergency bum wipe for visiting celebrities.

However, a consistent theme in these missives has come to my attention of late which I feel I must address. Put simply, my illustrious, single-digit fan base of those with, shall we say, less than stellar social lives demands to know the reason for my long absence. Where, they ask, is the self-indulgent prattle, the long-winded ranting about President Monkey Boy and the declining state of everything, and the impotent shaking of the pudgy fist at the world’s injustices and their perpetrators?

That’s a question I’ve been asking my own self. I mean, I pay the hosting for this silly blog, so why not use it. I do have a lot to say, and I write at least as well as the average hack stringer for Newsweek. Well, more entertainingly at least. Syntax isn’t everything. I should get points for bong water references, if nothing else.

But seriously folks, lemme break it down for you. It goes something like this, in no particular order; apathy, confusion, conflict, misguided attempts at reconciliation, heart break, avarice, boat varnishing, bong hits, self-indulgence, laziness, rage, self-consciousness, laziness again, masturbation and ignorance. That’s the short list.

And then, in a blinding fit of unbridled epiphany, it came to me. This goofy shit isn’t about you, or bettering the world, or, god forbid, trying to educate people. It’s all about me. Praise Jebus! What a load off. Nobody reads this crap anyway, so why not spew my thoughts down here after a half-dozen PBR’s. It’s not like anybody’s paying attention. I can’t tell you what a relief that’s been, because come to realize, I actually enjoy spewing. So, from now on, I shall endeavor to share my thoughts on a semi-regular basis, and the world shall be absolutely no better for it. You’re welcome.

Maybe it has more to do with my inner sense of the absurd. Take aforementioned President Monkey Boy, for instance. Used to be, just the sound of his voice, the squint of his eyes, his stuttering, retard drawl was enough to send me into a fit of rage. No longer. For one thing, I studiously avoid having to see, hear or think about him. No, I haven’t become one of those too-school-for-school, above it all, cynical, hipster douche bags. I’d rather castrate myself with a rusty tuna can lid than indulge in that level or pretension.

I still give a shit, fear not. I think I give even more of shit than before, because now my “consciousness”, such as it is, has at least moved beyond blind rage for the half-witted, Mayberry jackals currently running the world. And now I feel, oddly enough, some sense of peace. It’s also a sort of breathy weightlessness, like the heady feeling you get right after the roller coaster crests that first big hill, and right before it starts plummeting into the abyss.

Because, let’s face it, the abyss is what we’re all staring into. I guess I just stopped trying to deny that that’s where we’re heading, and now I’m going to try to enjoy the ride. I’m also going to work at it, build my websites to educate people on how to fuck up the world a little bit less, and try to live in loving kindness, or, failing that, self-righteous indignation and rage.

I’m going to try to shorten the length of time I spend in self-indulgent despair, and appreciate all those little beauties; the sunlight on the water, the cry of a raven, the sound of crashing surf, a good bourbon and ginger ale, a smile from a cute girl, love of family and friends, and a good chat with a like-minded stranger.

Cuz, this crazy experiment is all we got, and it’s ugly and brutish and mean, and also so damn precious and beautiful. And who says we can’t give a shit and still have a good time, or live in loving kindness and also seriously break some shit? As we witness the spastic death rattle of modern civilization in the coming few decades, something tells me we’re all going to find out.

Back in January of this year, I was kicking around Arizona after spending the holidays with my sister and her family in Flagstaff. Turns out, Arizona is a beautiful state. Who knew? I guess I always pictured flat, boring desert and saguaro cactus. There is plenty of cactus, for sure, but also beautiful mountains, stunning red-rock desert, cool-as-hell old mining towns, and deliciosa mexican food.

As I was in the neighborhood, I felt it behooved me to stop in and check out the Arcosanti, the work-in-progress model sustainable city, and brain child of architect Paolo Soleri.

I’d heard of the Arcosanti, as I’m into learning about all things sustainable. If there could in fact be such a thing as a sustainable city, well, I’m all ears. Turns out, Soleri is a fascinating human being. Born in Italy, he came to the states in 1947 to study under famous architect and reputed autocratic hard-ass Frank Lloyd Wright, with mixed success. He settled in Scottsdale in 1956, and thus began the Arcosanti project.

Far be it from me to try to communicate Soleri’s visionary ideas, so if you’re interested in a brief and fascinating overview, I’d recommend the short collection of interviews, The Urban Ideal. It’s a quicky glimpse into the mind of a truly deep and compassionate thinker. And, if you’re interested in a mind blowing and very beautiful coffee table book full of his conceptual drawings, take a look at Arcology: The City in the Image of Man.

And, since we on the subject, here are few other things I loved in Az:

• The very quaint and charming, but not obnoxious and shee-shee, mining town of Jerome. Beautiful location, interesting history, and one of the best artists co-ops I’ve ever visited. Don’t miss it if you’re in Jerome.
• The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum outside of Tucson. I got photos. Tucson was pretty damn cool, too. I had a great time getting liquored up at a String Cheese Incident show there one night. I was the guy yelling “stop pandering to the crowd” after they mentioned Edward Abbey for literally the fortieth time. I like Ed’s books too, but c’mon. Good band though.
• The still semi-off-the-beaten and pre-fucked-up-by-tourism mining town of Bisbee, down near the Mexican border. My three favorite things about Bisbee? I’m so glad you asked.
  • One, the Shady Dell RV Park, home of a multitude of lovingly restored, bad-ass vintage trailers (and one Chris Craft yacht), which they rent out at reasonable rates. I recommend the 12′ Crown, which is cozy as hell, and a great place to sit out a blizzard.
  • Two, the cool little old-school diner right next store. Great breakfast, nice owner (I think his name mighta been Paul, but don’t quote me), interesting patrons, and very good pie.
  • And three, that exceptionally cute woman I had a brief but lovely chat with in the diner one morning, before I had to head back home to go to work. Yet another example of work cramping my limited style. Talk about stupid shit. I can’t remember her name, but her cuteness and sartorial splendor, oh yes. Ain’t life just like that sometimes?

Anyway, that’s my babble for the evening. Go check out Arizona if you get a chance, but stay away from Phoenix if you can avoid it. Talk about a shithole.

Peace out, yo.

As well as being the proverbial “date that will live in infamy,” today is also the birthday of linguist and political activist Noam Chomsky. Chomsky has been a professor of Linguistics at MIT since 1955, when he revolutionized the field with his doctoral dissertation on transformational grammar, whatever that means.

Chomsky’s probably best known for his unrelenting criticism of US foreign policy, his incisive commentary on the role of media and doctrinal systems in our society, and the withering scorn he heaps upon the inept, lackey stooges who comprise the majority of public intellectuals in this great land.

Whatever you might think of what he has to say, it’s hard to deny the power and honesty of his intellect, or his commitment to peace and justice. In addition to being a full time professor, he’s written dozens of books and speaks all over the world to packed houses. Ask anybody who’s ever tried to schedule him for an event and they’ll tell you he’s booked solid two or three years in advance.

He’s a giant nerd, a warrior of peace, a great American, a braniac, and one of the closest things I have to a hero in this f’ed up world. Rock on, Professor. Keep fighting the good fight.