Raw, adjective: 11. unprocessed or unevaluated: raw data.

in·spire   /ɪnˈspaɪər/
–verb (used with object)
1. to fill with an animating, quickening, or exalting influence: His courage inspired his followers.

2. to produce or arouse (a feeling, thought, etc.): to inspire confidence in others.

3. to fill or affect with a specified feeling, thought, etc.: to inspire a person with distrust.

4. to influence or impel: Competition inspired her to greater efforts.

5. to animate, as an influence, feeling, thought, or the like, does: They were inspired by a belief in a better future.

6. to communicate or suggest by a divine or supernatural influence: writings inspired by god.

7. to guide or control by divine influence.

8. to prompt or instigate (utterances, acts, etc.) by influence, without avowal of responsibility.

9. to give rise to, bring about, cause, etc.: a philosophy that inspired a revolution.

10. to take (air, gases, etc.) into the lungs in breathing; inhale.

11. Archaic.
a. to infuse (breath, life, etc.) by breathing (usually fol. by into).
b. to breathe into or upon.

so mad inspired these days, by so very much.

[please note the above bold-faced prana-riffic breath connection. yes.]

that lead singer. aaron's watermelon-eating contest in the shadow of the golden gate bridge. parsva bakasana. elle's spirit. plastiki not sinking. fedoras and newsboys and suspenders, sprinkling that most hip and most hot crowd at stern grove yesterday with vintage fabulosity at every turn. the dude on the blanket over reading his tome with one hand while jamming out to the beat and drinking rye whiskey with the other. music, and technology, and community, and possibility - mad, unfolding, spiraling-open possibility. being high raw vegan and feeling the concomitant buzz of unleashed prana cracking things open. letting go. of so much. easier that way. sexy trombonists. louise brooks. matthew b crawford. nina, and her fight. yoga. rusty. stacy, and her fire, and her strength, in spite of it all. new batteries. caravan palace. austin's friday funkdown. autumn. scat - oh dear god, scat, yes!! andrea. the new yorker. josephine baker. papaya art. the shooting gallery, on larkin. marlene dietrich. shambhala sun. yoga on the labyrinth, at twilight. rachel gladman. claudia in her salmon scarf. a swanky dinner with the beloveds tomorrow night. baby bundts for birthdays, with liquor, and flowers, and too much frosting. the fact that my whole living room smells like eucalyptus and redwoods because of that unwashed blanket from yesterday. jeff and jeff, at the bar last night, and their questions, and their kindness. kd lang. jaclyn. wanderlust. padme and shrikula and so many excellent studios opening, fired and fueled by the fire and fuel of so many passionate people. steve ross. silence. the women's building, and free open-hearted yoga for the people who deserve it most, and the audre lorde room, and sunlit acoustics. the waiting piano in the other room. a cool foggy morning for catching up. mikah back from china. tom and brian planning tibet. an impending trade of coasts, and toes in the atlantic ocean with greg and toni and baby rach and babiest-of-all, clara. fresh grapefruit cocktails. llama at the wayfare overlooking oysters and sipping bubbly. kenosis.


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