HEAT

It's been really, really, really, really hot on the mountain lately.

PHEEEEEEEHHHHWWWWW. I just lost 10 lbs writing that!

As you know I also work part time in the bakery located at the bottom of the foothills. It's been over 100 in the kitchen the last two days. I make the cakes, and in three minutes they've risen to two feet.

Amanda says it's mind over matter. She doesn't sweat. I'm concerned for her. I sweat like a dog. Just pouring off me. All through my mouth. Since we don;t have electricity, we don't have any fans or centralized air. Giving up these luxuries seemed lofty to me, until the third days of 90 degree heat and 100 percent humidity...And that's at 8,000 feet.

I have taken to sticking my head into the brook nearby the cabin, and standing beneath the waterfalls, filing the claw foot tub up with cold water and jumping in.

G + Em + A7 + D7

These are the sacred chords!

Repeat them on your guitars. You should hear Rauol strum the most beautiful hymn the world has ever known.

Run to your keyboards. These are sacred chords reproduced for you loyal Fanilows of the great Manilope Tribe. They are a gift from the great one from on high. He has descended from the great mother ship on Copacabana.

These musical messages are for ALL lifeforms to share.

Remember the words of the great one: "we just can't smile without each other!!!"

Go forth and write the songs oh, ye Fanilows!!!

ELSA THE MODERN DANCER

I met Elsa at the foot of the mountain. She's a modern dancer. I think the guy at the tree is her trainer.

Elsa has very powerful legs.

She wanted me to go with her to the only hotel in town. But I'm not sure why. She said I had to have 300 dollars too.

I told her I had to get on home to Amanda and I ran away up the path to the mountain trail.

SQUIRREL HUNTING


Yep, it's time for squirrel hunting on our mountain. I myself have never particpated. But, this year I think I may try it. I'm in the market for the right kind of squirrel hunting gun. I think this one is good... Or maybe this one... I don't want to miss when I start shooting at the little furry guys.

BRIGHT EYES

This is my friend Bright Eyes. She is a very enthusiastic member of the Manilope Tribe...

She knows all of St. Barry's prophecies and readings...

"BILLY, YOU REAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLYY MUST COME SEE ST. MANILOPE REVERE US AGAIN!!!!"

"Um, OK, Bright Eyes... that's really nice yellow shirt with a rainbow. Is that an embossed powder blue unicorn on your shirt too?"

"WHY, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS IT IS BILLY!!! PLEASE COME TO BARRY... PLEASE COME TO BARRY... HE WRITES THE SONGS FOR ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OF US TO SING!!!!"

"I know!!! But I have to go home to Amanda and we have to plant our mint gardern now. Maybe I'll visit you guys in the Manilope Tribe next week..."

"OKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK, BUT COME BACK SOON!!!!"

"Ok, thanks, Bright Eyes, please let go of my hand now."

THE MANILOPE TRIBE

The other day I was out walking through the trails. The beginning of May. The birds were chirping. The sun shining through the new shoots on the trees. The squirrels foraging for leftover acorns from the winter. White butterflies were twittering her and there.

Off in the distance I heard some music. Strange at first, it sounded like a piano. How did a piano get into the middle of the forest. Curious, I followed the beautuful piano sounds. So did all the forest animals and even Swen Gerbershinvenhosuen, the lumberjack.

And there we saw him. I was a miracle. A man in the forest playing a large blackSteinway grand piano. Mesmerized we sat and listened to the great seer and prophet.

He said we can't smile without each other. We can't laugh and we can't sing. We find it hard to do anything. We feel sad when others are sad. Yes, Swen and I nodded in agreement. We, likewise feel glad when others are glad.

He sung great praises of a wood nymph by the name of Mandy. How her kisses stopped people from shaking.

"Wow, that must be some powerful natural medicine."

The great man spoke:

"I am Barry Manilow, of the Manilope Tribe. I'm here to tell you that I write the songs that make the whole world sing... I write the songs of love and everything... I write the songs to make the young girls cry. I write the songs... repeat after me, I write the songs."

"You write the songs!!!" The gathering crowd repeated.

"My holy land is called Copacabana... it's the located north of Havana. Go there... seek Rico. He has all the diamonds..."

And then he stopped speaking and began playing again... he gave us a way to make it safely home in the forest through the rain, by keeping ourselves protected, by the other who, got rained on too... Quite useful in a rainstorm.

I don't know how the Diamondites at the other end of the mountain will handle the Manilope Tribe... I hope there isn't a religious war. An easy listening holy war.

SIGH, CLEANING

Amanda has decided that today we should "spring clean" the cabin.

Great.

I have been assigned sweeping duty. She's on the opposite end of the cabin dusting. I'm not doing very well with it. Nevermind wherever I sweep she seems to cover it again with dust from the table of lamps.

Maybe I should suggest she do all of the dusting and then I come through and complete the sweep? No, that would only get me yelled at.

I remember this Abott and Costello routine is one of their movies. Oh, I can't remember the one where they are on a college campus, and all girls college. I remember the college name: Bixsby. At any rate Lon Chaney is the boss, and he makes Bud and Lus clean this room. And Lou is assigned the job of sweeping. He sweeps OK, but then he can't decide where to put the pile. He decides to try to sweep the pile up the floor rug. He lifts up the corner of the rug and there is a message:

"NOT UNDER HERE!"

No matter which rug her tries to sweep it under he still gets the same message. Amanda is eyeing me curiously as I peek underneath the floor rugs