Another huge acid satisfaction in my bucket ::: (you shouldn't cut your hair, man)

I'll explain what you have to do.

Earn the first row, possibly in front of Makoto Kawabata's amplifier, close your stupid eyes, untie your hair (please, feel entirely each of your hair, coming down from the root to your chicks), bow to the music, head bang horizontally, listen to the caress of the trip through your own hair and get hypnotised by Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso U.F.O.

…When you'll slowly wake up from such a trip, you won't believe the only thing you made was to stand in front of a stage.

Know first who eventually will see you will think you're having the longest orgasm ever – get ready to the consequences. Well, or don't. Who mind, perhaps you're having the longest orgasm ever!

Anyway, although I was enjoying the concert in trance, my stupid eyes wanted their slice once again…

Hiroshi Higashi

Makoto Kawabata

Tabata Mitsuru

again Hiroshi Higashi

Koji Shimura

I usually don't post this type of photographic memories, but for this special night I do like to make exception to show I joined Koji's real job: taking a picture with a lady every concert.

Koji Shimura with me

And this exception must call its related exception, the fun after the other great psych concert I enjoyed this year, also in the same locale, the dB'S; in April I saw Cinema Soloriens and, yeah, they're actually strongly connected with Acid Mothers Temple because Daevid Allen, who was playing in Cinema Soloriens too, is synonym of Gong – and Gong had a great good time with Acid Mothers Temple, which obviously gloriously turned into Acid Mothers Gong.

So, here these other exceptions, thanks to Luc Pilmeyer, who photographed this unexpected dance during the middle of the dinner we had together after the concert, in a Greek restaurant. 

me and Daevid Allen
photograph by Luc Pilmeyer

Daevid Allen and me
photograph by Pilmeyer Luc

By the way, I'm very serious saying you shouldn't cut your hair.

Guess why during the Vietnam War special forces recruited Native Americans and, lately, decided to let them keep their long hair. Just guess it.

The Circle

«It's a flower born to die, don't worry if it does soon.   :)   »

Those were the light words that came with a delicate Orange Flower, the past Summer.

It did it, the gentle Orange Flower died soon (but not so soon).

It had been also an unexpected rebirth, during the early Autumn; its tender willpower was moving.

After a while, it took its right Death for good, but I didn't moved it from my shelter.

During those frozen days in which we were ice skating on the canal, the pot shown its new surprising new Oracular Spectacular beauty.

Now it's again on my backyard, drinking the new sunshine. I'm not waiting for another flower, but the Springtime is already back, incredibly hot, in this loved half-nordic land called The Netherlands. And that Orange is the good one.

I have been all the seasons.

If the flowers won't come out to say *hi, I am a flower and I belong to a gorgeous harmony* to the new year, the pot will have a special role, somehow, in Art.

Proost, to who have the consciousness to say simply the simpler          .

Don't stop to keep high your hopes and feel the Circle.

Do you feel it?

(If you don't, start trying to listen to Planet Gong and Daevid Allen.

The World is full of good energies. It is. I'm sure about it. So sure!)