Happy New Year

 

Everyone: this was a pretty rotten year emotionally. Most of us were bound up, not much chance of those wonderful chance encounters occurring to lead us on new paths. The pandemic took a toll on our souls. We found ourselves fighting relatives over vaccines, losing friends over that, and losing loved ones as well. I hope that you are all finding courage and hope to give you strength, and that new dreams begin to trickle in to show you paths to explore with joy and childish innocence.

It has been a long year, emotionally. I hope the coming 2022 is good on 1000 levels.

Let's raise a glass or two, remember friends we knew, laugh about the days we had and dream about those to come.

Happy New Year!!!

 

The Pitch for the Money

Ladies and Gents! Explorers and Armchair Explorers of All Ages! Adventurers in Spirit! Joyful Partners of Mystery and Discovery! Lovers of Uncharted Waters and Possibilities Only Hemmed in by the Limits of Imagination! And the Rest of Youse People, Too!

This is the official notice that Peter Gorman, explorer, journalist, and and so forth and so on is finally fully prepared to make his long awaited return to the Javari River, the no-man's-land border between Brazil and Peru. This will be Gorman's third trip in his own boat the full several hundred mile length of the river. It will be the first with his expedition partners Devon Wright and Matthew Haddock, long time associates who have spent a considerable amount of time on shorter expeditions in the Amazon with Gorman.

Purpose of the trip threefold: to record the changes that have occurred on the river since Gorman's last trip in 1994. Secondly, we will be collecting plants — herbarium specimens and live plant material — for two major botanical research institutes. And then of course, we're going in the hopes of discovering something new to the Western World. That is not entirely far-fetched, as years ago Gorman was gifted with a frog whose protective secretions are used by the local indigenous as medicine. Gorman's account of his first use of the medicine opened the door to the study of all amphibians as potential healing medicines to the Western World. Who knows what we might be gifted with on this trip if we keep our eyes sharp and listen carefully to the indigenous on the river.

Here is the thing: This is a fairly huge expedition. The entire team will come to 17-18 people, which includes a medical doctor, three people, including two indigenous Matses, who speak the various dialects spoken on the river, a videographer, a drone pilot, cooks, plant collecting assistants, guards to fend off river pirates, and the people needed to keep the engine running smoothly.

The trip is expected to last between 40-45 days and the costs of the boat, crew, fuel, food, and equipment is high. We need roughly $80,000, of which we have already raised $51,000. So we are looking to raise $29,000 in the next week or 10 days. Know someone who would love to have an emotional stake in this adventure? Pass the word. Friends with change buried in their couch? That works.

I know this is a tough one: It's Christmas time and a lot of us go broke making sure our kids and grandkids have lots of presents. And if there is a little left over, most of us have charities that could really use the money. But there are lots of people who could drop $10, $20, $50 or $1,000 on this trip and never notice it.

We'd certainly appreciate you passing this on, along with the official trip webpage, which has our budget, gift rewards, and lots of details, which is here: https://gormanexpeditions.com/

Back Surgery Followup

Michael Gorman Just so the world knows, if I am tough enough it is because you ran me ragged at baseball, street football and all sorts of "tough guy" things. You took a little brother who had been sick for two years and pulled, pushed, prodded, encouraged me to swing the bat with the weights on it, to run a dozen street football routes fifteen times to both the left and right daily, to make the 126' baseball toss from a catcher's squat 10-20 times a day, and you did the arrangement and fielding for all of that. At the time I thought I was sometimes being cruelly used, but as a grown up I realized decades ago that you were saving me from a life of self pity as a sick kid. What a yoman's job you did. I did get tough. I fought most of my own fights, I hitchhiked more than 50,000 miles. I spent time, and got away, with people I knew were going to kill me. I could write a book, but what it comes down to is you, our sister Patty, and our sisters Peggy, Barbara, and Regina -- along with Mom and Tom, of course -- took a kid who was near death and weak as weak can be, and allowed me to grow into someone who became a great investigative journalist, a fantastic New York City chef, and an Amazon explorer. Not famous, not rich, but who cares. I got to get my fingernails good and dirty and that is what counts. So thanks for doing that for me. I appreciate it boundlessly. (I'm still probably gonna be screaming for our mom when the doc starts burning off nerve endings tomorrow!!!!!)

 

Little Back Surgery

Going in for the first of two procedures on my lower back tomorrow. About a dozen hot needles to burn away the nerves on the vertebra. They will grow back in six months or a year and then we will do it again.

Doc asked if I wanted anesthesia. I asked if i could get through it with a local. He asked why. I told him I have been under anesthesia 4 times this year and do not want to push my luck.

He said that I had gone through the trial needles twice with just local and thought I could make it tomorrow the same way.

If you hear some strange sound, like a caterwauling at 2 PM Central Time, that will be me begging for anesthesia.

My daughter Madeleina, who will take me to the op has already said she's not gonna hang with me pre-surgery. "Dad, if I don't see or hear you, I can pretend you're a tough guy. But if I see you begging for mercy from the universe one more time, well, let's just say I don't want to see you act like an ahole again."

She has always been my best and toughest audience. Can't get away with nothin' on that girl.

 

What's for dinner? An embarrassment of riches!

To be honest, I am often blessed with an embarrassment of riches despite being a poorish man. (I did just look myself up a couple of days ago on celebrity net worth and they, or a site like that, pegs me at $2million. HA! $2,000 separates me from going in the red and that's how it ever was.)

Okay, so on Saturdays, Adrian likes to cook. So while he and Madeleina go to the supermarket to buy things for Saturday dinner -- when he is off -- I generally make a list of things the house needs, including dinner for Sunday, since the supermarkets around here are pure hell on sweet heavenly Sundays.

I forgot to get food for tonight yesterday. Instead I gave Madeleina and her man Adrian the Thanksgiving list of a 20 pound turkey, a boneless spiral ham, fresh potatoes, yams, celery, onions, garlic, butter, cranberries, good quality ready to heat and serve dinner roll (lazy, I know) and seasoned bread stuffing to which I will add tons of stuff (lazy again). And oranges and apples and pears to stuff the turkey, and fresh maple syrup for the ham glaze.

You know too much about me now, so I guess I'll just kill myself. Okay, skip that. I have a point here if I can just find it... Oh, yeah, food for tonight. What to have? We don't have anything.

So I took a look: In the freezer was a duck and three duck breasts. There was a gallon bag of frozen lamb Tagine, and another gallon bag of fajita stew. Then there was a lot of frozen mariscos (shrimp, squid, octopus, mussels) and I have 8 ounces of cooked Atlantic halibut filets that will go with that. Then there was a couple of pounds of dried red beans and a pound of andouille sausage and Jasmine rice, a box of Manicotti and another of Lasagna with 3 pounds of fresh ricotta, a pound of shredded asiago cheese, tomato sauce, onions, a fresh bag of spinach and some fresh basil that I love, plus garlic, chicken and beef bone broth, and mozzarella cheese to top it all off.

I'm going with the zupa de mariscos with garlic, lime, onions, scallions, cilantro, fresh tomatoes, and finished with angel hair pasta to give it a little heft.

Honestly, an embarrassment of riches. I hope all the poor people out there who are hovering between $2 grand ahead or $2 grand behind can find the same riches in their fridge and cabinets tonight.

Smiling Wide Tonight

Just feel like letting some shine a few people put on me to rock free. Yes, ego engaged, but hopefully justified. Ignore this if you like. I was looking at Amazon.com for my new book, Magic Mushrooms in India and Other Fantastic Tales, to see if anyone had bothered to post a review. That's ego talking.

Well, I knew my brother had posted something nice, but to my surprise there were five other comments as well. They took me by surprise because I only know one of the people who wrote one, but the other four are utter strangers. And it is very nice, but scary, when utter strangers review your work. I've been lambasted as working for the devil for my Ayahuasca Dreaming book, been called out by animal and indigenous rights folks for my Sapo in My Soul book, and years and years ago had fruit thrown at my actors during one performance of my play Rumors, at Lincoln Center's Library Theater. That stuff stings, but it's what you open yourself up to when you are working in the public eye.

So I was thrilled to read these three reviews of my new book a few minutes ago. Someone named Barley wrote: "I got a contact high reading Peter Gorman's vividly colorful accounts of buzzing around the globe.

"As a storyteller, Gorman is so facile that, as a reader, I easily slipped into each adventure. Joining in the cacophony in India, the grit of New York City and the scent of hashish in the Rif was an extraordinary trip. A gifted writer whose everyman sensibility had me laughing from the first sentence. Gorman's tales are delightful."

Someone named Ishmael wrote: "I thoroughly enjoyed this book! It is a collection of fantastic adventure tales as lived by the author, Peter Gorman. There is also a chapter on Peters "First Time Sex". It's hilarious!

"Lots of stuff that has never been written about before, like naked Catholic swim team meets.

Well worth the money just for that story.

"Gorman is a master story teller.

Fast read. A+++"

And then this was added this morning by someone named Karla: "Somehow somewhere I heard about Peter in another book relating to experiencing DMT in the Amazon. So, I ordered his book Ayahuasca Dreaming, absolutely profound reading for me, so I had to order his next, Sapo. Read that, and then I had to go searching to see what the internet could tell me about him and I found his web address. Honestly, I ranted and raved about him to all my girlfriends at my last cabin retreat and they're scratching their heads wondering what's up with me. I think Peter is opening the western world up to something amazing, because he is amazing. I have never met him, but what he is sharing openly about his lived life is raw, heartfelt, transforming and especially beautiful to the soul. In this book, Magic Mushrooms, I came away with a deeper sensation of his human-ness and found my heart relating to all his misgivings once again."

Please forgive me my temporary shit-eating grin. I just don't get treats like this every day.

My Brother Mike's Regimen

Growing up, my brother Mike had a big influence on me. He was the one who let me know that if you ate cheese or listened to most rock 'n roll you would never be able to concentrate enough on the hard work of baseball to become a pro player. And he was a good player. Partial scholarship for ball at St. Johns, a perennial powerhouse and generally a team in the top 20 in the USA. He went on to play semi pro for 3 decades. And he got me, a kid who was really sick with rheumatoid arthritis midway through kindergarden to believe in myself and become a pretty good athlete in my own right, playing NYC handball against all comers and holding my own, riding a bike 10 miles a day for years, being shortstop on the High Times Bonghitters team when we went something like 15-1 and 17-0 against the likes of Playboy, New Republic, Forbes, Money, WBAI radio station and so forth. My brother turned me into a small "c" champ.

   Today I was thinking about some of the songs I could listen to without contaminating my drive to be a pro in baseball.

   "Ou e, ou a, a, ding, dang, walla walla bing bang, Ou e, ou a,a, ding dang walla walla bing bang." That is from My Friend the Witch Doctor

    Then this: "I took my troubles down to Madam Rou, you know the gypsy with the gold capped tooth," from Love Potion Number 9.

    And "Walkin' to New Orleans, Walkin' to New Orleans. Ain't got a plane, ain't got a train, so I'm walking to New Orleans." From Walking to New Orleans.

   And: "That's the sound of the men, working on the chain, gang....That's the sound of the men, working on the chain gang. All day long they work so hard... . From The Sound of the Men Working on the Chain Gang.

   Then there was: "Hang down your head Tom Dooley, hang down your head and cry, hang down your head Tom Dooley, poor boy you're bound to die." from Tom Dooley.

   And I could listen all day to 16 Tons and King of the Road or even Blueberry Hill without losing my edge. It was just those romantic songs you shouldn't hear because the next think you knew you were liking girls and that was the absolute death of any one wanting to become  pro player in any sport. Kissing softened you up and you had to be hard and focused on swing weighted bats, sit ups, push ups, short sprints, fielding, throwing, running routes if you liked football, or practicing dribbling or jumpshots in the dark if basketball was your aim.

   It was slightly crazy and by 16 all I wanted to was eat cheese and kiss girls, but it got me out of being a sick kid. Thanks, Mike, you were the best.

 

Sharing Spirit with Medicine

For some of you this will sound ridiculous; for others, it will make perfect sense. Since the pneumonia and the Covid -- pretty much back to back -- I need to drink the Peruvian cure of fresh ginger and chopped raw garlic cooked in lime juice and water. One or two gulps, hot or cold and you will be hocking up lugies from deep in your lungs. And of course, since both pneumonia and Covid try to drown you in fluid in the lungs, you need anything that will help clear that shit out. It is gross, but vital to healing.

My daughter or near-son Devon generally make it for me. Tonight Madeleina was not in the mood and Devon is in Hawaii. I asked her a second time and she begrudgingly said she would do it. I told her to clear her heart. Clear her spirit. No begrudging. I want her to make it -- physically I could easily make it -- because I want her spirit in it. Her spirit will double, triple the value of the medicine.

That might sound strange here in the USA, but in Peru and some other countries I've visited where medicines are collected and made on the spot the value of a strong, clear person adding their spirit to the medicine is what makes the medicine work. It is simply what I have observed. And dang if it doesn't work that way. I absolutely love getting a little spirit with the medicine. And when I serve medicine, if it is at all possible, I will make it for you rather than saying, "go boil these sticks for two hours and drink half a cup every four hours." There isn't enough power in that. But you put me, my friends more than me, in front of that medicine for two or 12 hours coaxing that medicine to give up its strongest spirit, and now we're talking.