The Dickination About Gun Control

Who are we trying to kid? This nation has no interest in gun control. This nation is made up of people. It is made up of people that are raised to see guns at almost every stage of our lives.

Toy guns, games, cartoons, westerns, and feature films.

I watched The Rifleman as a kid and thought the dude was a half step next to God.

The Rifleman was a good guy. Where he lived there was a steady stream of bad guys trying to take his land, a woman or his town. Every dang week that good peaceable man was killing about three to five people a week.

I took in the lesson. The world was bad but good people had guns to shoot up the bad folks.

I took it in and didn't question it. Every other show on television had a gun in proximity. When I was allowed to go to the movies it was a good time for all if it was on of the Sergio Leone Spaghetti westerns

I took in more lessons; don't ever live in an arm pit of a town and you are screwed unless someone who has a gun can shoot the bad guys for you.

I can't think of a day where I didn't see an image of a gun as a kid. And I was a city kid, not in the boonies.

So our relationship to guns goes a bit deeper that people propping up the Constitution as a right of co-existence with guns.

America worships the gun.

And yet we expect grown men and women to make rational choices that would respect the rights of honest gun owners with the equal rights of those that don't want to be blown to hell by other people.

You'd think that 20 school kids would be enough motivation to come to a center point for discussion.

You would be wrong. As wrong as the death of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy. As wrong at the attempt on Ronald Reagan. As wrong as the thousands of children that have died before Sandy Hook in their homes or on the porch who were victims of drive-by shootings.

So yeah, I'm a little bitter that those children are being used by the political opportunists on the right and the left of the political spectrum.

I'm bone angry that we as a nation don't have a systemic way of dealing with guns.

We have no required gun training for those that want to legally purchase a gun. There isn't a skill level that is required before you are allowed to fire one. It is optional.

I can't drive a car without demonstrating proficiency. Gun owners can and do purchase guns without demonstrating skill levels.

We don't have a safe way to educate children about the dangers of guns; there is no counter balance to what they experience in fiction, games or television.

My god, we talk less about gun safety, usage and awareness than we do about sex education and we have proven just how damn ignorant we are as a country about that haven't we?

You'd have to talk about the "manhood" thing so folks would be clear that strong men do not necessarily have to blow your brains out after a disagreement. No, better to decimate the opposition and have it all your way until somebody blows your ass out of the water.

Think I'm kidding? Do a Twitter search on #guncontrol. That will lessen your faith in humanity.

We don't even begin to have a better enforcement to prevent illegal purchasing and distribution of guns to those hip deep in crime and other unsavory activities.

Don't get me started. 

I would like to see true gun control that would allow folks to protect themselves in their homes but would smack them hard if they shoot somebody in the mall.

I want balance. I want fairness that doesn't involve allegiance to a political party or rhetoric.

In reality this is about grown men slinging their metaphorical dicks back and forth trying to show who has the power or the power of revenge.

Because if we really meant what we say about protecting our children we'd get to work and bring our solutions to the table.

Peacefully.

Respectfully.

And like the mythical cry and wail about gun control,  that ain't gonna happen.

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Is It Over Yet?

I mean the holidays. Which are no holidays for me when it is culturally jammed down my throat that you must be happy. You must be with loved ones. You must buy, buy and buy some more.

My peeve of the year? People who got royally pissed when someone said "Happy Holidays." Because Hanukkah or Ramadan or Winter Solstice don't count; this is a Christian time of year and we demand that you say it!"

Sez who? There is not a person living who knows for sure when the Christ Jesus was born.

Sigh, why bother.

I have no desire for fights of faith. It seemed like every dang day in 2012 was a fight of faith. One faith trying to have dominion over women's bodies. One faith trying to maintain guns over the safety of citizens with people still dying from legal and illegal use of weapons.

I did spy Valentine's stuff at two different stores. It is December 30th. What madness is this? We don't have time for President's Day anymore? No Martin Luther King acknowledgement?

Damn.



This is the opening scene of the 2001 version of Waiting for Godot.  I been intrigued by the various actors who perform this play and change the energy of the piece. Some actors go for the comedy while others hug the tragic elements. The best is when the company straddles the fence.

If you want to go on a head trip watch the full version of the play.

I am not straddling the fence. I wish it was always summer. That's right. I'd wipe December off the map with no hard feelings.

Which is why I am not in charge.Who am I to say when people should break out and celebrate whatever they want?

I strive for tolerance when it gets on my last dang nerve. I hold on most of the time and then I get to repeat the lesson again the next year.

No, I will not be celebrating on New Year Eve either. I will be shaking off the last remnants of "I have failed, I've wasted another year, I've got to do better..."

Sad. No, more like SAD as in Seasonal Affected Disorder. Not the clinical kind but the kind that makes me long passionately for summer.

A summer day that allows me to breathe the smell of orange blossoms and Jacaranda trees. Where there is no holiday and I love the day I am standing in because I am a part of the universal tie that binds. A day of nothing-ness that is glorious because it is and I am in it.

Anything else that happens is gravy.

So if you made it this far in the cycle I encourage you to hold on a bit more until we get to summer time again.

We need to survive the dark times in order to appreciate the light.

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The Pain of Creating and Cleaning on Thanksgiving

Being a cubical bunny does not leave a lot of time for creativity. Nor does it leave a lot of time for advanced household maintenance. One of the reasons I like Thanksgiving is that I get serious me time.

I made a list. 20+ items that I want to complete by Sunday. I was digging for my Earthquake kit. Yes, I have one. You should too. Even if you don't currently find yourself in earthquake territory.

Like I said,  I was digging for my Earthquake kit and I found my electric screwdriver. I've been passively looking for that thing for months.

Then I notice the curtain that should be replaced. And the curtain by the window waiting for me to replace the icky one for the nicer one.

I stand on what I thought was a solid cabinet. It wasn't. I crash through to the bottom of the cabinet. My heart suspends. My brain goes to evaluation mode.

Leg broken? No.
Foot broken? No.
Toe broken? No.
Toe hurts like hell? Oh yes.

I truly take a moment to be grateful I haven't broken any body part on Thanksgiving. Because to have the paramedic ambulance come to your door is at least $995 to start.

Not that I could have gotten to the front door.

I am now sitting in a chair nursing and icing an angry toe. I am grateful.

But it hurts.

I don't do pain well. I avoid it as much as possible. Will now commence to dig for ibuprofen.

I will resume the search for the Earthquake kit. I might find the missing iPod Nano that I lost a year ago. See, the way this works is that I look for one thing and find five others items.

It is way better than Black Friday shopping because I already know that I want it.

I have to say I'm not as gung ho as I was about this cleaning thing. My back-up plan was to stay in bed watching DVDs.

Hmm. Nope, I'll brace up and finish what I started.

I have too. The bed is covered with the other stuff that I moved to find the screwdriver.

It is gonna be a long day.

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Politically Speaking, The Poor Are the Enemy

I’m noticing a lot of talk about “The Poor.” It is an impersonal non-descriptive term. The prior incarnations were applied to “The Women”,” The Negro” and “The Asian (well, in the past this would have been referred to as The Chinese)” followed by the word “Problem.”

During most elections, “The Poor” would be invoked as a badge of concern or at least a focal point of attention. This time is different. “The Poor” have become the enemy.

In December 2011, Newt Gingrich made a statement about how poor children don’t have a clue as to understanding responsibility, ethics or the habit of working. This, by implication, means that their parents don’t have those qualities either.




Think about that statement. Every single poor person in America is engage in illegal activities. Sound idiotic. Yet many people agreed with the ignorance of that statement.

When Gingrich asked the potential donors in the room had they ever babysat or performed yard work as a comparison to an imaginary poor child, who hasn’t appeared to do anything but breathe and eat Skittles, I guess you could work up a bit of indignation.

Perhaps their understanding of “The Poor” is what they see and hear in the local and national media. It is a distorted vision.

But that was the beginning of the wave of “The Poor” being transformed into the enemy.

There are memes of taxation and certain Ayn Rand plug-ins presenting “The Poor” as picking individuals and corporate pockets in order to receive healthcare, education, and food. There are people ready to tell you that, in their perception, have done nothing to deserve it.

Never mind that you can’t live a day in this country without paying some form of local, state or federal taxes. And many people who should know better ignore the fact of millions of poor people do work and have taxes pulled from their checks each pay period.

No, don’t let the facts get in the way of the emotionally self-validating “live and let die; it is not my problem or concern.”

The main kicker in “The Poor” is the enemy campaign is when a presidential candidate Mitt Romney states that he is not concerned with the 47% and the reason why he is not concerned:

“…These are people who pay no income tax. Forty-seven percent of Americans pay no income tax. So our message of low taxes doesn't connect. And he'll be out there talking about tax cuts for the rich. I mean that's what they sell every four years. And so my job is not to worry about those people—I'll never convince them that they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives. 

For the record, “The Poor” are hyper proactive about obtaining food, shelter and not walk around half naked.

Poor people take the jobs they can find. Many of those jobs are in the service industry or whatever employment is available. It bears repeating that many low wage jobs have been shipped to China, The Philippians and other countries.

We need to be really careful about defining who is worthy of concern or not. My understanding is that providing education was a non-negotiable part of the American experience. Have we decided that we now want a permanent class of illiterate citizens?

Are retired seniors unworthy of the money they invested in Social Security payments? Should disabled veterans have a time limit on re-entry support or medical care?  We do a terrible job of it now but we can do worse if we put our minds to it.

If you are not in the above groups and you do not make a lot of money what exactly makes you unworthy of being considered a full participant and recipient of the government’s resources?

There are real people behind the political rhetoric and quotes of the week. You wouldn’t know that from the political discourse of the past three years. I don’t expect that to change anytime soon after the election.

I do expect that if we as a people want to portray “The Poor” as the enemy there will be a price to pay.

From the thought, to the word, to the deed.

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Trying Not to Be Numbed Out and Failing

There is a part of me that wants me to "do something". There is a section of my brain that is saying "chill".  I can't handle the outrage of the day and the cruelty of humans while I'm fighting off this cold I caught last week.

The days are piling up but this unhappy camper needs to step back and just be a rank and file human being. More rank cuz I've been hacking up a bunch of dis-comfortable internal matter.

When I was a kid, I did the number about how old I'd be at this time. I hoped for flying cars. Weekend trips to Mars. Walking through the wonders of a hydroponic city.

I read a lot of SciFi when I was a kid. I was ready. I knew the future was gonna be great.

Here I am. I have access to primitive tri-corders (smartphones and tablets) I have a global communications network at my finger tips. I have friends and acquaintances on three continents.

Yet a hate filled foolish man make makes a movie whose trailer is on YouTube which is picked up by Egyptian television and people who had nothing to do with the damn thing are dead.

The conflicts of religion, free speech, intolerance and ignorance come knocking on my door. Maybe it is good that I am hacking up dis-comfortable internal matter. Keeps me from adding to the misery.

Numbing Through Literature

I've been watching clips of Jane Austen movies. I don't know why, not really a big fan of Austen's work. I tried reading it but I don't have the patience to step into that very restrictive world. The BBC versions are more accessible to me.

But here is the thing. That world had everything laid out. What you could do, what you could say, how to dress and how you should live. It was self-imposed programmed living.

There were rebels. There was a great deal of hypocrisy. In no way, shape of form would I advocate a returned to such structured living.

Yet I watch clips from the BBC series and movies. I numb out on just how daffy we are acting today. There is a kind of peace in it. A false peace, but sometimes you need a resting spot. A cave that acts as a portal to another world.

Besides, I've seen all the Justice League of America. Trying to develop a taste for Richard Diamond and Boston Blackie. The Naked City rocks but I got to pace myself on that one; excellent writing and storytelling.  The episode I saw was so good it made me feel inferior.

Then again, it might have been the cold medicine.

I have to come out of it. Get back into my flow and do some good. Or at least do no harm.

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Open Letter to Jeanette at Utah Valley Magazine

A few days ago Utah Valley Magazine had a photo of some of the women in the office. You might have heard about it. This is a copy of that photo.

The headline for the photo was Women of Color. Now, hold on those of you who are women of color for just a sec. For those of you not traditionally thought of as women of color take two seconds.

I know. I understand. I got a brand new dent on my desk.  Deep breath, let the good air in, let the bad air out. Ok.

The editor of the magazine, Jeanette Bennett has written her explanation of how the photo and the headline came to be published. This is the comment that I left on her blog.

I wanted to address her question in the post as to why folks got so heated up about the headline and photo and how they did not seem to articulate anything more than anger. And there are some angry folks. Understandable.

But if she was serious about wanting to know why the headline and photo struck a bunch of nerves I wanted to step up and give it a go. It is not the only reason. No,  certainly not. And I know for certain there will be white folks that will be angry about being told they have no color. Never said that nor implied it.

Damn, I hate race based posts that require a book and a half to do properly. Anyway, this is the comment that I left at her blog. It may or may not be approved but I wanted to make sure some body sees it.

I appreciate your efforts to clarify how the cover and headline occurred. I am not here to cuss you out. No hate, no insults and no calls for lighting folks up.

As an African American woman I want to chime in on why the headline and the photo caused people to blink repeatedly. I have to say looking at the photo there was a psychic disconnect.

You know, it has been kinda rough for people of color. We have so many folks that want to be blind to seeing our ethnicity aka " I don't see color, I see the person."  Not really true, but I'm not here to get that fire going. Another trope is "I'm American, dammit, why can't you be too?" I am American with ancestors from Africa. I don't want my history expunged.

No, of course you did not mean for that meaning. Yet your headline or photo did that. In addition, with the bitterness and mendacity of the current political campaigns it certainly feels like open season on anyone not white, Caucasian or so called true American. It was, in a way a reminder of how a term is appropriated by another ethnic group then presented as their own definition.

There is a disconnect. There was a WTF moment that seem to imply resonance with the desire to turn this country back to 1945 or earlier.

You as a writer and editor know that words have a life and an energy of their own once published.  That is what happened to your headline. For some of us it was hurtful because we were not present in that photo. We were erased but the term remained visible under folks that rosy cheeks and straight flowing hair.

It is like have the a traditional Caucasian church choir (any choir, not specify any that might happen to be in Utah) attempting to sing One Nation Under A Groove.  It is possible to for the choir to sing the words. It would be a similar psychic disconnect. It would resonate poorly.

That is what happened. The photo and headline resonated exclusion.  Exclusion sometimes generates anger.  Or sadness. Or maybe confirmation that we have much more work to do to understand each other.

I suspect that there are people of color in your community that could write for your magazine. You might have to look past your usual social networking groups. You might have to shift your perceptions that they are not present.

Perhaps there is something about the mag that discourages contributions from people of color.

That would be a good place to start looking within.

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Holding On To the Crack of Doom

The nasty azz dark night of the soul does not care how you got to that dark side only that you stay and keep it company. I keep finding escape holes but I trip up and fall back in.

What helps me to stay out the pit is knowing that a lot of blogging friends and friends in real life are doing great things. I'm happy for them and want to witness and support their efforts.

For example, Lania Dawes new book "What Are You Doing Here? on black women and heavy metal is coming out in September 2012. You can check out her Facebook page.

Liz Rizzo is working on getting funding for her directorial effort Missing Miranda via Kickstarter.

Other folks are starting new jobs, new families, traveling, inventing stuff. What am I doing? Not writing a book. Not directing a film. Not speaking to fascinating people. I blog. I go to work. I fight to stay out of the dark miasma and sometimes I fail.

I'm not the bright shiny penny I once was. At 54 years of age I can be bright but it is hard to accept that people will not look at me if they perceive I am old.

I fought freaking hard to be this age. I know stuff. I've seen stuff. Yet the invisibility cloak others extend is trying to hush me up.

I keep meaning to slap in some hair dye. Not as a way to stay young but to put a fuzz filter on other people's perceptions. Haven't done it yet. I will in a couple of days. I want to spend time with a little red in the hair to see what it is like.

Redefining Success

It is getting up out of the bed. It is doing work for pay. Not because I want to do it but because I am exchanging labor for money. And security. It will not always be this way I tell myself but I haven't found my path.

Part of my path is invisible and the other is down the road a spell. It has always been like that. It has lead me to good places if I remain open.

Redefining success is not judging myself by other people. That part is hard. I know some really neat, kind and spiritually (not religiously but those people emanating a light of joy. ) successful people.

I'm honored to know them. But boy, do they make it hard to be a shlub.

Redefining success is understanding that menopause just kicked my azz and the heifer won. She snatched some of my energy and super powers. I'll get them back but I have to look for new ways to access those powers.

I had to re-learn to write in my own voice. I have to allocate time and not over book or under sleep. I can do it but not all at the same time. Freaking resent that part.

So I am indeed holding on to the crack of doom. Which might come in December. Or a long time away from now. Because if Malcolm Gladwell is right that it takes at 10,000 times to master a skill then I got a ways to go before I can declare myself as an abject failure.

In a few weeks I will introduce myself to people I don't know. They will ask what I do. I will not actually say this but I want to say I'm majoring in survival with a minor in lunacy navigation.

Not far from the truth.

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Once More Into the Daylight

I really don't want to go outside. Because once I do I have to commit to facing another day. I have to go through this day in order to get to Saturday and Sunday.

I have to put on the big girl panties and deal with people, rules, conflicting rules, being held accountable by the conflicting rules and then taking a huge breath and remembering it really does not matter.

Not one bit.

I bought a magazine called Light of Consciousness. I think it is for folks that want to apply Buddhist principles in everyday life. I'm not a Buddhist but I'm willing to learn anything to help suppress my desire to beat stupid people with a wet noodle.

A wet noodle attached to a Cat-of-9 tails.

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There Is Still Much to Say

There was a time when 999 was the highest amount of posts you could upload on Blogger. I wasn't too worried about it because I didn't think I'd reach 999 posts. I don't think about things like that because they intimidate me.

Here I am. Number 1,000 according to my post log. Dang! I feel good about it.

I wrote long before there was blogging. Use to do an e-mail news letter. Had a old school user page that required HTML. I never warmed up to Dreamweaver but I gave it a go because I had much to say and thought my voice was as valid as some of the others on the World Wide Web.

In 2004 I came to Blogger.


In one of my early post I shared the lyrics to Sky Pilot. There was no way to easily embed video. There was no YouTube and I would not have known about this video from the CBC in Vancouver.  This is a video montage created by the CBC performed by Eric Burdon and The Animals:



I have an attacment to this song because I would hear it on the radio. I might have been between 9 and 11 years of age. I don't remember. But I didn't connected the song with the Vietnam war.

I thought of Snoopy and the Red Baron. I was a kid.  I related to the world that I knew.

This is such a different place. I now understand about the price of war on human bodies and minds. I understand that there have been other wars and some folks are now shopping for a new one to keep the military industrial corporation going.

"You'll never, never, never, reach the sky."

There was a time when I did not have my face on the blog. In 1999 had read a book about being on the Internet that talked about this guy who was making serious cash money doing web work but it got out that he was a black man.

His work dried up. At that time there were people that would attack you for being "the other."

Not much has changed. There are increasing attacks on women and feminist bloggers.

I have learned that you can't hide who you are. There are people that need to see that an African American woman has a blog. That I write about a variety of issues and concerns.

There is no point in trying to pin me down to a specific topic, not in this blog. One day it is politics, the next is noticing that Brookstone in the mall has a bunch of vibrators on sale for the holidays.

Seriously, not the cheap stuff. We are talking the upper level stroke, stroke, stroke until le petit mort kind of gear.

I get distracted. Too much is going on these days.

I bought a fountain pen. I'm going back to writing on paper first and then uploading. Has more to do with eye and hand preservation. It also has to do with allowing the words to come at a contemplative speed. I want time to think, not just react.

I don't like Facebook but I check in on friends. I like Google+ better but I don't have the time to do more than and comment on friends and followers post. There is some new widget that allows me to copy my post here to my G+ page. I might do that. Not sure.

Twitter, which I didn't initially care for, has been my day to day catch up with folks.

My blog - this is my home ground. My stoop. I know it. I'm okay here. I haven't been posting much because I got stuff going on. I have to make decisions about my life in 2012. What do I want to do? What do I need to do?

No matter what those choices are I still intend to blog. And write. Maybe a video now and then.

This blog is what made the connections with other people possible.

There are days when I get fed up with the stupidity of human beings. The American branch has plum lost their minds. Not sure they are going to get it together, it will take something awful to re-connect with each other.

It doesn't have to be that way but not sure if we can come together. Too many forces profit from keeping us apart.

So I still blog. One post at a time. I hope I remain unpredictable but who knows what changes can happen. Be open to the possible has served me well. I commit to that and the future.

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Not Writing The Prescriptive White People Letter

I have watched and listened as privileged white men tried to help the nation understand the problems and worth of poor black kids. If I am understanding correctly, which is impossible because I use to be a poor black kid, I am incapable of going to work, thinking long term and handling my responsibilities as an adult.

It seems I am unable of understanding my current and future situation in life. I did not know that I require intervention to help me move past my impoverished blackness of being. The fact that I had to use technology just to find out how incapacitated I am is beside the point.

I can't make this stuff up. This is Newt with his view on poor children. Excuse me, very poor children. Like poor needs a superlative.



Gene Marks article at Forbes understands the totality of the inequality but wants poor black kids to know that there is a way out via web apps, sites and technology.

I'm thinking Gene does not have a good grasp of the concept of being poor. There is no money. Food is dicey. You might not have a place to live. There are other concerns at the top of the list. Buying a computer is not one of them.

I have a mind to write a letter called "Dear White People..." I am motivated. These past two weeks have really lit me up to put pen to paper.

Hey, wouldn't such a letter be irresponsible? Would it be extremely biased based upon my limited understanding of the totality of the European American experience. Even thought that experience is pumped into my consciousness each and every day by media, literature and commerce.

Yet I feel compelled to try again.  I have a tremendous amount of anger at the embedded racism that is structured in this society. Not only is there embedded racism but if I, as a black woman dare call somebody out on it I get accused of playing some goddamn race card of victim-hood.

I have no race card. With the shit coming out of (some) white folks mouths these past three years I don't need any. Do you hear the ish coming out of mainstream political discourse? Against women, the LGBTQ communities or anybody that is not a white Christian male?

Yet I am suppose to give a calm, rational nuanced response some of the most noxious public thinking that has been romping around the country as political commentary.

Bullshit.

Hmm. Not really where I wanted to go with this. Still too much anger.

I want to write that I am a human being with inalienable rights provided to me by the Constitution of the United States and the 15th Amendment.

Naw, that don't get it either. Bunch of extreme constitutionalists want to revert back to the original constitution. They don't recognize my right to existence anyway.

I can't do it. If I can't write it responsibly, with accuracy, historical perspective, real life experiences and independent documentation to support my point of view then I should not do it.

I can't seem to write without wanting to toss in a couple dozen cuss words. That isn't good.

See, I know that such a letter would hurt people I love, care and respect. It would even hurt people I don't like. There is enough hurt in the world. I have no desire to add to it.

Still that isn't a good reason not to write a prescriptive letter to white people.

Yet people I know might might take offense that I am telling middle class white folks that they don't know how to raise their kids, that they are structurally defective as parents and I, being the 2nd cousin, twice removed from God, have got the scoop on how they could live their lives better if only they would listen to me.

The poor white folks are probably doing the same things as poor black folks, trying to take care of their families the best way they can in these days of denial. Denial being telling folks to get a job but that job has been exported oversees years ago.

Then again, if I am so all powerful knowing that I can solve the problems of millions of people perhaps my time could be better spent fixing the state or federal budget.

Or laying in the infrastruction of a national high speed rail line. Or full high speed Internet access for all, even in the most pastel sections of the country.

You know,  If could lay in that rail line by June then I wouldn't have to get in an airplane or spending time in TSA lines.

Change of plan. I need to attend to my areas of interests.

White folks will have to muddle through without my assistance.

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Hey Where Is Poetry In Plain Sight?

Well yeah, there is a story about that. The poetry readings generally happen at a branch of the Pasadena Public Library. That branch is undergoing renovations. Currently the folks are meeting at Maui Wowie, accross the street from Pasadena City College.

This is a good thing. Visually. And I like the smoothies.

But from an audio standpoint it is a mess. You can hear the blender. You can hear the radio pumping out top 6 hits. You can barely hear the poets.

There is no audio cleaner in the world that can handle that kind of background noise. The renovation continues at the library so there is no expectation of repatriation until many mid December.

Or so.  If you are a local poet who want a poetry writing workshop then check out Maui Wowie cuz Don and folks will be there.  But from an audible and copyright standpoint, I just can't record.

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TOWS NY and Words From Jay Smooth

I pay attention to what Jay Smooth has to say. Brother can post once every three months and it is all right with me because when he does hit record it makes sense to me. I've been trying to write my own thoughts but I can yank three pages of them cuz Mr. Smooth has scope out part of the signal.

Case in point about Occupy Wall Street New York:



Especially the part about the ringers. The guy from American Spectator that started the ruckus at the Air and Space Museum and all the media pundits, pundi, pontificates and those that cannot see non-scripted reality for the life of them.

Oh yea, oh yea there will be co-opters, on both sides. There will be a voice that will be worthy and then not worthy. I know this. I've seen it. I also know that once a fuze is lit all it takes is some kindling.

The kindling catches and boom, you have illumination and heat. It might take a little longer for the kindling to catch up in Los Angeles but once folks get their iPhone 4S they will be back to normal. Can't do jack with them until they get the Apple fix.

I'm keeping my camcorders charged just in case.

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Two Thoughts and Then I'm Outside for the Day

Got an e-mail from Barnes and Noble about buying Borders customer data. Thing is, I opted out of Borders e-mail long before the bankruptcy. What I forgot was that I was a Border's member. It appears I can have a limited free membership into the BN premium club until I would have to pay in 2012.

I don't want to pay BN an advance on the books I may or many not purchase. I didn't want to do that before the Nook and I don't want to do it now.

I have another e-mail from Writer's Digest talking about them helping me to bulk up for NaNoWriMo, if only I would spend $125 or so in purchasing articles and books on how to write a novel in 30 days.

I took a class years ago on how to write a book in 6 weeks. The dude talked so fast my ears burned.

Literally, he was going like a house on fire. He was informative but by hour 2 my head was thumping. I bought his guide to how to do it for $40 and stumbled home with a migraine.

Anyway, NaNoWriMo is an endurance event, not a shopping opportunity. Ok, you can buy paper and ink.

So I gotta say I'm feeling pressured to buy even though my rational mind does not want to buy these items.

I'm heading out for what the day will bring. Wish me luck.

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To The Person That Almost Ran Me Over

It is a known fact that there are chunks of Los Angeles that are automotive incompetent to drive a car. There are cities with reputations of having distracted, uncaring and flat out unskilled drivers.

There are also people that transcend geography that have a tendency to piss off 8 out of 10 pedestrians. Now I don't want to cast all those who drive BMWs and Mercedes in a bad light. But I would swear that it is part of the code of automotive arrogance that allow almost hitting pedestrians is a badge of honor.

A few minuets ago I was bringing my laundry home. I don't have a car, I use a small vertical shopping cart. I am two thirds across the street when this car decides to make a turn.

Into me.

At first I thought it would be a rolling stop. Slow way down to allow me to finish crossing even though he was in the wrong turning lane from the get go. If I was an on-coming car he would have almost hit the car. Instead he was trying to hit me.

I'm in-between him and the sidewalk. He does not slow down. I'm covered with light as I scream Stop!

Twice.

He never stops but slows down a bit more as I make my way to the sidewalk.

I am angry. He is half way down the block.

I would have cursed him out for not seeing me. I'm not that spiritual when people aim a car at me. Spirit understands it is one of my many shortcomings.

I would tell that person that he had no place he had to go to that was worth trying to run me down.

I need to know what phone cal or meet-up was so important that it required you to turn into the wrong lane and not see me? Cuz you were in the wrong lane and I know this because the person driving a car in the correct lane could not make the turn because you slunked beside him in the wrong non-existent lane and tried to turn into me.

I hate mobile phones in cars. I hate distracted drivers and most of all I hate the lack of civility that passes for status these days.

There is no place to go or find that doesn't have lunk heads behind the wheel. I re-affirm my desire for $15 a gallon gas and computer driven electronic cars.

Or the functional development of a transporter. If I have a choice, Transporter!

I am fine. I am grateful for a big mouth. And to be typing this. I don't recommend it as a permanent cure for writer's block.

Still, you gotta go with what works.

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The BBC, Rastani and My Lack of Sleep

On September 26, 2011. Alessio Rastani scared the hell out of folks in the UK and Europe. He worked my nerves something terrible. I was so messed up I couldn't even read or do anything worth a damn.



For those folks that can't see the video. he basically said in a clear, assertive voice that traders and brokers don't care about governments or stable societies. They are looking for profit. The next money fix.

This is not news but he said it in plain English. That was news.

And the work that others folks are trying to do to save Greece and parts of Europe aren't worth the effort because traders and financiers are looking for safe ports for their money, even if they have to stick them in U.S. dollars. It isn't about governments, it is about what Goldman Sachs wants and needs for monetary growth.

What has that got to do with me or you?

Business as usual you say. Well, he also said that he has been waiting for the next drop so he can make some serious bank. A drop that will clean out bank accounts around the world.

I can say with painful memory that small depressions are bad enough. The pure hell of 2001 nobody should wish on any group of people. 9/11+Dot Com bust+Enron all in the same year was quiet enough thank you very much.

And this man speaks of that type of event happening like a cash money wet dream. It turns out that Mr. Rastani is not a big time trader. He is more of a dabbler.

Rastani is not technically a fraud but he does not roll with the big boys. The BBC did not fully verify his actual qualifications to appear on the broadcast. He is just a man who loves to talk, he wants to be a public speaker.

Rastani got his big break.

And yet,what Rastani said is the truth.

Not about Goldman Sachs. It isn't just that company. Be real. 

We know there are people who would do anything to make huge sums of money. Ethics or societal responsibilities have nothing to do with it. In fact, we are being schooled that no one has any responsibility for anybody but themselves. The rest be damned unless you have money to buy you way out of perdition.

It is the truth that we need to prepare for a serious cosmic money azz whipping or fiscal re-alignment. It is the truth that no one in government or those that aspire to public office has a clue on how to fix this. None. There is no desire to do so.

We are in palliative care mode at the moment. We cling to the side show when the main attractions are just too much to witness.

We need to have alternative sources to our food supply. How are we going handle brown and blackouts? Skills for services or products is going to make a comeback but do most folks have something to trade? Actually no, what do any of us know how to do that does not involve electricity?

You will not catch anyone from this side of the pond say the words that Rastani said to the BBC.  He probably will not appear on any of the business or talking head American television programs. Really shouldn't have been on the BBC.

It makes what he said no less true.

That is why I was curled up in my bed trying to sleep with all kinds of thoughts romping through my head. I didn't sleep much at all.

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Healing Spaces With Junk Mail

Many folks I know are practicing a media blackout until September 12, 2011. To the extent possible, I do not watch mainstream television and have just about given up on most broadcast news so most of the time I am out of the flow. I will be even more so on Sunday the 11th. I'm reading the book Water for Elephants instead.

I'm going through my junk mail. The PennySaver wants me to know that I can get a lap band if I want to invoke insurance verification.

I don't have PPO insurance. Don't want a lap band either.

Well, I would think about it if involved four men cradling me in their laps as they sung me to sleep. One guy to massage my feet. One man to rub my lower back, one fella for the shoulders and one songbird to sing in my ear.

That is a pleasing visualization. Let see what else I can salvage.

A satellite company want to give me the world and 225 channels for $34.99 including football. 

I can't read the block of fine print on the other side. I believe that is intentional on the vendor's part.  I can just about make out something like $135 if I don't do something in time or $20 per the remainder of the two year contract.

I'd feel bummed out but I don't watch free TV so why would I pay to watch infomercials and football?

Next ad is another lap band circular, this time telling me that freedom is losing the weight. No, freedom is a state of mind and my mind has the foot guy rubbing a bit on my ankles.

EZ Lube - yes I'm going there. No such thing. It is either goopy or runny and you can't just stick any old substance up the ying yang. You have to read the label to make sure it is compatible with your body.

I'm sad that I gotta think about such things but I have to be prepared for the future. What? I don't have a car. What else could I associate it with?

An insurance company wants to offer me affordable coverage. There is a huge honking apple on the paper. This remind me to tell you the fruit eating thing is working out. Mangos and strawberries work well but cherries are labor intensive.

The rest of the junk mail seems to be more of the same..
I place the papers into the recycle bin of life.

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Living in the Time of Asperand

I learned a new word today. Asperand I like saying it but I have to work at remembering how to say the word. There is a lot of competition for my brain cells. Asperand is the actual name for @ now commonly known as the at symbol.

My retention thing has changed from"give me all you got" to "that is it for today, thank you but the storeroom is closed. " I don't like it but some days I gotta shut down open access and monitor what goes in and stays around to mess with my brain.

Here I am standing on the nexus point between what was and what is and all kind of stuff is going on. Av at BlogHer took on the CA Milk Board advertisements about PMS and milk.



Just as that foolishness has been dealt with the Summer's Eve ads that have three, count them, three different ethnic groups of women riled up. This is another video in the series about how 70 percent of us don't know the name or can identify our lady bits.

I got folks e-mail and twittering the heck out of this stuff. It needs a response. It is an video asperand that is a symbolic of what people and companies will do to sell a product.

Well, I'm sitting this one out. I'm just tuckered. My attention this week was across the creek looking at how the News Corporation/empire might fall. I am holding on patiently expecting the unthinkable into reality.

I'm sorry but others will have to take up the slack.

This is the time of the Asperand because we look at, point at, twitter at and have forgotten that there are real people having to co-exist with dumb ass clucks.

Clucks that think they know real people enough to sell them anything if they hit the right emotional and cultural buttons. Pain them and cure them for a price.

And who came up with the bright idea to have Summer's Eve ads before the showing of a Harry Potter movie?

Have at it folks. I am taking a walk from this foolishness. I'll catch up and see what next week will bring but I have limited expectations.

I'm taking a walk and having a confab with a few trees. I've got to shake a few more asperands out of my head.

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I Need A Road Trip or Something

I'm thinking that I need to go some place else. Do something different. I don't necessarily want to take a typical vacation.

I don't want to jump bungee of a bridge either.

I like the idea of a learning retreat. Then again I like the idea of going to a total new city and taking a photography or video workshop. Maybe to New Mexico or Washington State.

I don't know.

I do know that re-creation is important. I'm almost but not quite burned out.

There are a lot of "I" in the above sentence. This is a good thing. I'm usually thinking of what others require of me. What do I have to do to honor my obligations?

The obligations are wearing me down. I've been burnt out before and it takes way too long to recover.

I speak from experience. It is much better to not let it get to that point.

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In Memory of Mr. Gil Scott-Heron

I'm tired. I'm tired of the willful ignorance that is romping around as political discussions. On this day one of the great men of poetry and music has pass to the other side. I speak of Mr. Gil Scott-Heron.

I saw the man perform many years ago. I don't know much more to say. I did a tweet. I wrote 480 words in Facebook.

But my heart wants to write a book and nobody reads anymore, so I am told. This is a poem from the (currently) last album Where Did the Night Go?



I can tell you that one of the first things I did when I got my hands on the Internet was to look for him. No joke. He had been quiet for too long and I was trying to catch up. I wasn't alone.

Eventually the silent collective of those of us caring about GSH found out he was in England. Having some turbulence over there with the chemicals. I had to adjust that the man who made it clear to leave the stuff alone was juiced and volatile.

This is The Bottle



It took about 10 years for the BBC interview video to surface on the web. I could see he had been roughed up by his addictions. Gil was still inside but not the same. Still, the silent collective couldn't let him go. We sent invisible good wishes and petitions up on high on his behalf.

These past two years were very encouraging. I didn't care if he was doing covers of blues songs or small snips of poetry. The man was working and staying focus. As much as he could. Maybe the next album would light into the soul like a B-Movie

.

When folks do a tribute page they want other people to know that this person is important. You should know why we honor this conflicted but talented man. He wasn't perfect. Dang sure no angel.

Scott-Heron made it hard to be a fan.

But for a moment we gather and understood what it was and what it could be in terms of storytelling, poetry, performance and musicianship.

I'm about to crash. I need to sleep. Or be sad. Maybe both.

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Creep on the Finally Friday Freakout

So he creep, yeah he kept it on down low... Well, how could I not? I have spent days with my fellow salt miners trying to wrap my head around two men, prominent richer than rich men get themselves into so much trouble.

It makes no sense. My saline crew members have evaluated the Creepenator's actions and behaviors to new analytical powers I did not know they possessed. We talked about it so much that we are taking a vow of silence so that we don't talk about it any more.

Cuz really, we'd rather not have certain images in our heads. And with the Rapture/Judgement day coming up we got stuff to do like go to the Red Bull Soapbox Derby or Silverlake Jubilee, which has nothing to do with anything spiritual unless fifty food trucks, a bunch of musicians and a plethora of art activities put you in a higher plane of being.



So hopefully this is the last of it. Let TLC get your attention but remember to creep outside of matrimony is a dang reprehensible action no matter what you station of life is or how much dough you have in the flow.

I present the above reminder to those of you who are thinking about taking a dip into somebody's else hip that is on gold band lockdown.

Don't do it.

The other guy? My fellow miners are content that he went from a $3,000 a night hotel to Riker's Island in New York City. We think the accomodations at Riker's will get his attention that long before this accusation there might have been behaviors that, in hindsight, might have lead him to his new position in life.

Go on and fool with the elementals if you want to. Those forces are patient. Their timing is impeccable. The ultimate booyah. I'm gonna hush up now cuz they don't like finger pointing either.

We send our love and support to a woman who is being stalked by Franco/American media and her life, no matter the truth, will never be the same.

Courage.

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