I haven’t updated this site in a year. Covid has upended life in New York City. The Black Lives Matter demonstrations were a big deal. I moved from Manhattan to Queens. I got a new job. A lot has happened and I have had no time to write or to do art. So, I’m going to upload my video diary to keep everything up to date.More.
by Alan Imberg
Note: The following was written by my cousin Alan Imberg about his father Brun who recently passed away. I don’t really ask permission or forgiveness for re-posting this, because I feel it’s important family history that should be preserved, but know that if any content on this site offends, just email me and it’ll be taken down or I can make it private.
My father, Brun Imberg, was many things in his lifetime: sailor, merchant seaman, cable car “grip man”, mechanic, counselor…. a husband (3x), brother, uncle, stepfather.…. recovering alcoholic, spiritual seeker (and spiritual “Luddite”, sometimes simultaneously) and, of course, father. All these roles can lend themselves to seeing him in different lights and context. I suppose that’s what makes the reflection on a life so challenging. As his only child, I’m going to share a glimpse of the importance my father was to me, though not just as a dad but as an example of an imperfect man who set an example of how to (and how not to) recover from errors and failings, finding redemption and grace (both for himself and his son) along the way.
I went to a music festival last weekend, possibly the best weekend of my life, but I have had some good weekends here and there. The show was Rock & Roll with a classic 1950’s vibe. The Brooklyn Bluebirds rocked, that’s Andy Animal’s band, he organizes the event and I think it’s on his birthday weekend. Shit Horse freakin’rocked. Tandoori Knights were excellent. Gibby Haynes from the Butthole Surfers produced and presented some great kids bands from the Paul Green Rock Academy. I slept in a hammock, it rained, I walked around barefoot, swam in the Esopus Creek, saw some old friends, made some new ones. Rio the dog was there, somebody brought a big goat, that was cool. The art installations were really great, there was a vegan food vendor Berben & Wolff’s with locations in Albany and Troy. Brooke Deva was selling textiles and jewelry from India. The bands played late into the night and there were classic films being projected all day.
by Alexander Countey
We can never claim to be higher then
another, never claim to have realized what others have not, never hold
ourselves superior in any way to other humans, to other beings, we are all
simply at different points in our paths, we are all simply in the same illusion,
the commonality of the experience of the world, of the world we witness, the
common illusion shared between all sentient beings in this world, is itself the
proof of the unity of existence. This common illusion is the divine connection
that hold us within our identity, into our ego, into this world. As Ram Dass so
elegantly states it, “Don’t prolong the past, don’t invite the future,
don’t alter innate wakefulness, don’t fear appearances.” We must neither
attach to nor reject the world we witness. We must not get lost in the past
experiences that, although they undeniably hold relevance into whom we identify
ourselves as, what we believe, what brought us to this point, it must be viewed
as neutral and equal as any other experience, as no better nor no worse than
any other pathway. As each pathway is equally as valid, it must be observed as
equally valid as every other experience. We must not take away or alter our
focus to block out the world, it is too easy to be ignorant of what is around
us, ignorant of the impact of our actions, ignorant to the world as it unfolds
around us, our focus placed somewhere else, focused away from the world, so
focused we become blind and ignore, focused to push away and reject the world,
focus so strong on a single point that it becomes blind to all that is around.
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My most longstanding and best friend passed away, and I don’t know what to do about it. Alex had been living in India for some time, he kept trying to get me to visit. He loved it there. I thought nothing unusual, as we had grown up on Carmine Street in the Greenwich Village together, his family had moved to the Catskills and Alex had spent some considerable time abroad: first living in Australia, then Amsterdam, and finally moved to India. I truly cherished every visit that we had together, and feel very close to his family, who had taken me in and treated me as one of their own. I just found out today, and I miss him so much.