taken from the log of the Marajo Funk Space Cadets who survived the Crash of their spaceship Apple Booty 1

Day 4

I Bunny Carter, being of sound mind, body, and soul, am writing to who ever this may concern.
i feel like this will be the last time i contact anyone so i am recording our last days here, lost on planet earth. these last few days have been crazy, i will recap you on what happened the 3 days prior to the conception of this journal.
Apple Booty 1 has crashed
Apple Booty 1 is down
days and days with out food
just sea and savannah
lost in what can we can only assume is the vast expanses of Africa

through the wild we wander
feeling like this world is devouring us from the inside out
feeling like we are light years from home
where do we go?
how will we survive?
i must remain strong for my party.
the girls look discouraged and Big Denmark has taken the fever
he must be carried through our expedition

day 5
we have been walking for forever.
we started seeing smoke from the mountains off  in the distance and have beeen walking towards that.
we have been walking though the night.
i can't feel my feet anymore
by morning we arrive in the front of the temple.
its built into the mountain and smoke is pouring our of its chimmney.
at the top of the stairs is a large statue.
 a statue of a large man with a giant round afro.
we touch the statue and we feel something change within us.
Denmarkfever breaks in an instant.
We feel cool, calm, at one with the things around us
though unsure of what has happened, we are unable to feel fear.
we feel exposed...vulnerable...at peace...
our eyes have become sensitive to the light and it is now hard to see..

we walk inside the temple and are in a giant room
it is decorated with pictures and unrecognizable symbole.
pictures of the large man outside,
pictures of other people but the actions arent as easily discerned.
The room is illuminated by mirrored that have been placed purposely to reflect the sunlight.
there is an altar in the middle of the room
the light bounces from one mirror to the other until it ends shining a spotlight on the altar.

In the middle of the floor there are clothes
lined with fur and shiny gems, they are bright and vibrant
each one different from the next.
with no shame we feel compelled to take our clothes off and place these new garments on.
12 outfits....12 outfits......

the room is so cozy and warm but it is far to bright for our sensitive eyes
on the altar there is a book with blank pages and 12 pair of sunglasses.
12 sunglasses...
this is seeming more than a coincedence
some one knew we would be here, maybe even wanted us hear.
but who?
we put on the sunglasses and our sensitivities subside,
the Pages in the book are no longer blank.
the symbols on the wall become a decipherable language.

it tells us of the large man we saw immortalized outside,
an afro buddha.
it tells us of him coming to this planet to spread the word of life,
the fact that all things and everythings are connected.
how to use music to talk to the gods
talk of sex and its ability to heal hearts.
talk of the forces of good and evil.
and the delicate balance of the two that he refers to as the funk.
we read passages from the book that was once blank.
"Funk is the rhythm to which all things grow and thrive", "a disruption in the Funk is a disruption in the balance of life"
it teaches us that there are forces in play that want nothing mor to do than to spread unjoy, and unhappiness.
" These are a wicked people that hate the Funk because they do not know themselves"
it teaches us to love and not to destroy.
that we are to check these forces with the undeniable proof of the rhythm of life.
It teaches us that one day Afro Buddha will return to reject these dark forces and then funk will be unopposed in the universe.

In the middle of the floor the symbols reveal the message, "Funk is love".
Manuel Sanchex read this out loud to everyone and when he did a door opened up on the far wall.
We walked in to this room and it is shaped in a circle with no roof or ceiling.
a fire is roaring in the middle of the room and there are instruments lying along the wall.
horns, acoustic guitars, drums,and bells.
we knew what to do,
it felt like we had been here before.
i grabbed the book from the altar and flipped to a page of rituals.
we started Playing.

Everyone knew exactly what to play.
it was the first song Afro buddha sang ot his lover on the night of their consumation, the night he gave her the miracle of love.
The fire grew bigger and we played our parts more confidently.
this was our call to the gods.
the chant began:
"we stand up,
in a world so cold.
stuck in motion,
loco motion with no ground to hold.
Devoid of thought,
devoid of sound
deaf and dumbin
simpy tumblin
workin our way to the Ground.
as we sink, as we fall, we stay touchin
fleshes crushing till the end of it all.
As we grip and connect our waist,
she will tell me baby its alright,
we'll just float away"

as we sang and got swept up in the chant and we saw the Apple Booty 1.
it was new, like it had been repaired.
we couldnt think of how it had happened because we were swept in the spirit.
then in a flash of light, it was gone.
the temple, the savanah, everything. gone.
the light dims and we are back in our ship.
the same clothes from the temple.
a new knowledge.
the same sunglasses.

FUNK IS LOVE.