The wonderfulness has been increasing since the election ended. Much less bovine metabolic waste smudging my inbox. My celibacy from the news of the day has been chipped at by facebook (which I had fairly abandoned in the last weeks of the battle of twits). Yet the wonderfulness builds.
Babies are dying.
Babies are growing.
Babies are learning, always.
Babies always seem so innocent until they grab a knife and point it at you.
People are dying.
People are having sects.
People are learning, sometimes, if convenient.
People always seem so innocent until they grab a knife and point it at you.
Despite these horrendous times we live in. Despite not having wi-fi. I'm coming out. I'm coming out, the deception has gone on for what seems to me to be forever. I'm coming out as myself. Proud to be me.
Oh yes, me. Not a wish or view or need of someone else.
So, I'm sixty-three and I accept myself for what I am. Is that the wonderfulness I've been feeling grow? I prefer to think so rather than a premonition of Mayan catastrophe.
It's my choice.
I am, after all, the only one possible to be me.
You? You're someone else.
So am I.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Children & The Impossible
This self-indulgent and pretentious (like Rock 'N Roll) rant is about the impossibility of wishing you were never born or didn't survive those life threatening situations of life when you have children you love and respect.
My children are part of me, very self servingly noted. They are also individuals with their own sense of life and living. The world would be a lesser place without their beamish lives.
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
I wish to say
But demons from my blackened soul
Rise up to bar my goal
Having a bad day
Weary of the play
My part continues pointless
it seems
though open venues
appear in my dreams
I wake to weariness
from making plans
crafting schemes
all dissolve to senselessness
My mocking phone is silent
My thoughts emerge violent
In heroic stands
Against the bands
of evil and disdain
(Republicans mostly)
and Willie Brown
There's hope
this will pass
My temporal hell will cease
A slumber perhaps
a passing of time
enough for the drugs to work.
My children are part of me, very self servingly noted. They are also individuals with their own sense of life and living. The world would be a lesser place without their beamish lives.
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
I wish to say
But demons from my blackened soul
Rise up to bar my goal
Having a bad day
Weary of the play
My part continues pointless
it seems
though open venues
appear in my dreams
I wake to weariness
from making plans
crafting schemes
all dissolve to senselessness
My mocking phone is silent
My thoughts emerge violent
In heroic stands
Against the bands
of evil and disdain
(Republicans mostly)
and Willie Brown
There's hope
this will pass
My temporal hell will cease
A slumber perhaps
a passing of time
enough for the drugs to work.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Daark Days
I've stopped reading the newspaper and watching news shows, even The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. Now my email and Facebook are exposing my nerve endings to the shit of the world and our society. The unfairness that abounds and the deck is stacked against us. There is no escape.
"Destiny, destiny, there is no escape for me".
Boo-hoo!
"Destiny, destiny, there is no escape for me".
Boo-hoo!
Monday, November 22, 2010
Vetknees, gooks, dinks, & slopes
I have a special place for Vietnamese people. They taught me the meaning of Dickens' first sentence in Tale of Two Cities. The government of the U.S. had a hand in it too. More like a fist.
Fear and love. Fear came first. Even thought I didn't see their faces, I knew the guys motaring and firing at us at night were not smiling. Perhaps some of them were the same who did smile during the day, kowtowing to the barbarians.
Love came when I dealt directly with our indigenous workers. They were mostly women who did our laundry, cleaned up our hootches, and made our beds every day. New sheets every Saturday.
The men did more disgusting work, cleaning out the outhouse and burning our metabolic wastes in the cut down 50 gallon drums we shat in.
I was the guy who stood in the pay line getting $30 of Military Script from each soldier to convert to piasters to pay every one.
I find myself searching the faces in Vietnamese establishments looking for someone familiar, trying to account for the 40 years that have past since the last time I saw any of them. Most of those I see don't look old enough to have been born when I took part in that great deception and slaughter.
Perhaps I am searching for redemption from the sins of omission I committed. Perhaps I'm merely wallowing in my own misery to confirm my feelings of failure and guilt.
Perhaps.
Fear and love. Fear came first. Even thought I didn't see their faces, I knew the guys motaring and firing at us at night were not smiling. Perhaps some of them were the same who did smile during the day, kowtowing to the barbarians.
Love came when I dealt directly with our indigenous workers. They were mostly women who did our laundry, cleaned up our hootches, and made our beds every day. New sheets every Saturday.
The men did more disgusting work, cleaning out the outhouse and burning our metabolic wastes in the cut down 50 gallon drums we shat in.
I was the guy who stood in the pay line getting $30 of Military Script from each soldier to convert to piasters to pay every one.
I find myself searching the faces in Vietnamese establishments looking for someone familiar, trying to account for the 40 years that have past since the last time I saw any of them. Most of those I see don't look old enough to have been born when I took part in that great deception and slaughter.
Perhaps I am searching for redemption from the sins of omission I committed. Perhaps I'm merely wallowing in my own misery to confirm my feelings of failure and guilt.
Perhaps.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Foxtrot, Foxtrot, Foxtrot!!!
"this Court now concludes that independent expenditures, including those made by corporations, do not give rise to corruption or the appearance of corruption. That speakers may have influence over or access to elected officials does not mean that those officials are corrupt. And the appearance of influence or access will not cause the electorate to lose faith in this democracy." U.S. Supreme Court in decision Citizens United, Appellant v. Federal Election Commission reported 01/21/2010 by Fox News.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
What The Fuck, Over.
Immigration reform! Ship THEM all back home or give THEM amnesty and let THEM stay. These are the extreme points of view.
If I knew the immigration laws I could write more knowledgeably about this mess.
What's the deal?
People are coming to the US in droves because things are pretty well fucked up in their home countries. You name them.
This place, US of A is so much better even if the illegals who make a hero's journey to get here are caught in the trap of having to carry around cash, when they get get work, which every shitbird knows about and takes the obvious action of robbing them or they wait around to do shit labor.
What to do. Give illegals the opportunity to legalize their existence here and bust the "business people" who take advantage of the precarious position by hiring illegals? Why not WPA like camps of illegals working on government projects while getting their legal shit in order. Have the camps take over the services provided by those that hired the illegals for pennies and make dollars off their labor and put those shits in jail. Job opportunities at correction facilities.
Then the BIG question arises. What's going on in these countries that make the herculean trip to this country worth it? Perhaps the money proposed to build a fence around our borders could be used to encourage our own corporation to set up shop in these countries. The wages would have to be at a life sustainable level for the workers.
California is bankrupt because it is trying to do the right thing for all. Why not act at the root of the influx of immigrants rather than spend all that dough flying or trucking them home?
I do have a selfish reason for proposing these solutions, I have not the ability to learn another language. I know a few Spanish words but cannot seem to grasp the sentence structure or all the words. I do enjoy the music of Spanish, even in anger (like Wagner). I enjoy the music of words, of communication. That's me.
Living in San Francisco again after 26 years elsewhere has been a cultural adaptation. I grew up here as a bit of a socialist, everyone watching out for everyone watching out for everyone else. Hippie shit. We're all in this together, let's help each other out.
The problem with that is the cost. Who wants to pay 29 to 59 % of their income to help their community? I will. Swedish is so hard to learn so I remain an American socialist. Anyway I hear they're having their own immigration problem although I have not researched it and truly, at this point, don't care about it. I am not moving unless a certain person will come with me. This is doubtful and probably will not happen since I like being with my brother and sisters and mother here in the cool gray city of love.
So, the other other comment I have is the seeming need to FIGHT for rights. Fortunately, working for change does the same thing without making pissy enemies. Che Guevara is no longer a viable icon. He killed to make his point and I hope those days are gone. Perhaps only for me.
The dreams of automatic weapons and explosives still occur bit only serve to depress me. I'm hoping the 21st century will evolve beyond such things but I am doubtful. This enforces the valuable effects of whiskey, which makes possible impossible dreams.
Written with unconditional love for a certain person on Queensbury Street.
If I knew the immigration laws I could write more knowledgeably about this mess.
What's the deal?
People are coming to the US in droves because things are pretty well fucked up in their home countries. You name them.
This place, US of A is so much better even if the illegals who make a hero's journey to get here are caught in the trap of having to carry around cash, when they get get work, which every shitbird knows about and takes the obvious action of robbing them or they wait around to do shit labor.
What to do. Give illegals the opportunity to legalize their existence here and bust the "business people" who take advantage of the precarious position by hiring illegals? Why not WPA like camps of illegals working on government projects while getting their legal shit in order. Have the camps take over the services provided by those that hired the illegals for pennies and make dollars off their labor and put those shits in jail. Job opportunities at correction facilities.
Then the BIG question arises. What's going on in these countries that make the herculean trip to this country worth it? Perhaps the money proposed to build a fence around our borders could be used to encourage our own corporation to set up shop in these countries. The wages would have to be at a life sustainable level for the workers.
California is bankrupt because it is trying to do the right thing for all. Why not act at the root of the influx of immigrants rather than spend all that dough flying or trucking them home?
I do have a selfish reason for proposing these solutions, I have not the ability to learn another language. I know a few Spanish words but cannot seem to grasp the sentence structure or all the words. I do enjoy the music of Spanish, even in anger (like Wagner). I enjoy the music of words, of communication. That's me.
Living in San Francisco again after 26 years elsewhere has been a cultural adaptation. I grew up here as a bit of a socialist, everyone watching out for everyone watching out for everyone else. Hippie shit. We're all in this together, let's help each other out.
The problem with that is the cost. Who wants to pay 29 to 59 % of their income to help their community? I will. Swedish is so hard to learn so I remain an American socialist. Anyway I hear they're having their own immigration problem although I have not researched it and truly, at this point, don't care about it. I am not moving unless a certain person will come with me. This is doubtful and probably will not happen since I like being with my brother and sisters and mother here in the cool gray city of love.
So, the other other comment I have is the seeming need to FIGHT for rights. Fortunately, working for change does the same thing without making pissy enemies. Che Guevara is no longer a viable icon. He killed to make his point and I hope those days are gone. Perhaps only for me.
The dreams of automatic weapons and explosives still occur bit only serve to depress me. I'm hoping the 21st century will evolve beyond such things but I am doubtful. This enforces the valuable effects of whiskey, which makes possible impossible dreams.
Written with unconditional love for a certain person on Queensbury Street.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Sitting In Judgement
The cars slowly roll through the Stop signs like predators searching for weakness. The forecast is for darkness through the night with brightening by morning. Waiting for the bus sitting on a bench built by the COE so the young lovers can make-out in the bus shelter.
Thinking of earlier in the day on 24th St. at Bernie's, a coffee room next to the Whole Foods store. A pleasant place to view the parade from. People walking their pets, mostly dogs and children of various types. Most of the children have vehicles to ride in, although some, as the dogs, are under their own power. The dogs are leashed for the most part.
A sign a Bernie's says, "Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy." This seems to keep their owners attentive and the majority of kinderswine at Bernie's do not deserve that pejorative appellation. I admit a fondness for the word and like to say it whenever possible. It's very much like those who proclaim the US the greatest nation in the world. It may not be completely true but it is fun to say.
It's was a warm day, 84 in the city. This is hot to most San Franciscans although the newbies seem to find it "finally normal". The temperature at San Francisco Airport, which is some miles south in San Bruno, was 90. Snatches of cell phone conversations exclaim, "You need to sit out on your block and get some vitamin D . . .", ". . . and I just got so excited!", "I love you so much!", a father (supposed) says to his toddler son who is pointing and identifying the wonders he sees.
A pleasant parade with few unhappy creatures. Most of the people around here have good, well paying jobs. The stucco homes go for just under a million dollars. Rent in the Victorians is $2700/month. Working Man Victorians go for well over a million and some renovated places for several million.
This points out the whorish nature of San Francisco. 'Twas always thus. Good times, wondrous things to do, and glorious sights but you got to pay buddy. This, perhaps, is why this city is so tolerant. If you can afford it, you can be here. Tolerance and the freedom that it affords is the beauty of San Francisco. There is physical beauty too but it is the freedom to be an idiot, if you desire, that makes this place magical.
Thinking of earlier in the day on 24th St. at Bernie's, a coffee room next to the Whole Foods store. A pleasant place to view the parade from. People walking their pets, mostly dogs and children of various types. Most of the children have vehicles to ride in, although some, as the dogs, are under their own power. The dogs are leashed for the most part.
A sign a Bernie's says, "Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free puppy." This seems to keep their owners attentive and the majority of kinderswine at Bernie's do not deserve that pejorative appellation. I admit a fondness for the word and like to say it whenever possible. It's very much like those who proclaim the US the greatest nation in the world. It may not be completely true but it is fun to say.
It's was a warm day, 84 in the city. This is hot to most San Franciscans although the newbies seem to find it "finally normal". The temperature at San Francisco Airport, which is some miles south in San Bruno, was 90. Snatches of cell phone conversations exclaim, "You need to sit out on your block and get some vitamin D . . .", ". . . and I just got so excited!", "I love you so much!", a father (supposed) says to his toddler son who is pointing and identifying the wonders he sees.
A pleasant parade with few unhappy creatures. Most of the people around here have good, well paying jobs. The stucco homes go for just under a million dollars. Rent in the Victorians is $2700/month. Working Man Victorians go for well over a million and some renovated places for several million.
This points out the whorish nature of San Francisco. 'Twas always thus. Good times, wondrous things to do, and glorious sights but you got to pay buddy. This, perhaps, is why this city is so tolerant. If you can afford it, you can be here. Tolerance and the freedom that it affords is the beauty of San Francisco. There is physical beauty too but it is the freedom to be an idiot, if you desire, that makes this place magical.
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