Friday 7-30-10 9:54 AM User: Pass: Home Of The Funky Lama!!

This isn't just the Home Page. This is the beginning of a journey like never before. This is the portal to the world of The Funky Lama. I MOVED TO PORTLAND. I'M AN ADULT NOW. this is still for mata. I'll be the most gracious leader, I won't even wear a crown this is something else. yep. The following is contraband: Big tall house on Westfall Avenue The Twelves have taken Yuksek so far away from the sea! Link To Marrakesh Nobody in this house wants to own up to the truth. Cloud Cult totally washed your car, dude. Hangin from a single wire, waitin' plaster to crack. For survey archive, Click here. For the new Chronicling Grief archive, Click here. January 20th, 2010 - 1:30 AM So we've entered a new decade already. What a thrill this ought to be. I'm a little lost for words about the fact that I've been almost a year without mom already. I'm still healing and I miss her every day but I'm not as sad as I used to be. I love her still. School, after sucking for a while there, is going really well again and I'm... well, I guess I could say I'm happy. I feel like I have good people in my life again, and I also am gaining a new understanding about myself just by being here. I still want things I can't have, but the things I do have are pretty outstanding. I'm happy for that. To that end, I have a treat: a love poem by Rumi. I don't think it has a title, so you're just going to have to jump right in and enjoy it. Because I cannot sleep I make music at night. I am troubled by the one whose face has the color of spring flowers. I have neither sleep nor patience, neither a good reputation nor disgrace. A thousand robes of wisdom are gone. All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away. The heart and the mind are left angry with each other. The stars and the moon are envious of each other. Because of this alienation the physical universe is getting tighter and tighter. The moon says, "How long will I remain suspended without a sun?" Without Love's jewel inside of me, let the bazaar of my existence by destroyed stone by stone. O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names, You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body, You who give culture to a thousand cultures, You who are faceless but have a thousand faces, O Love, You who shape the faces of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris, give me a glass from Your bottle, or a handful of bheng from Your Branch. Remove the cork once more. Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves, and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play. Then the addict will be bred of craving and will be resurrected, and stand in awe till Judgment Day. Something Odd: The Funky Lama Gallery Studio J: The Yoshi Files DON'T FORGET TO POST YOUR COMMENTS IN OUR L o v e l y GUESTBOOK! Come on... it won't bite. :D TheFunkyLama.com come back often.