Sunday, November 28, 2010
Besotted
Sitting in mother's soon to be sold living room w Hector I cannot help but be amazed at all the lost world's of talent that there are .Never met a man so savvy ...sexy...suave ...cashmere sweater, shorts & crocs in the drafty, dusty room....this is at once the most sophisticated but kindly person. How kind he's been to my mother! Breaks my heart he didn't get a fairer deal in this life. But he did get to play his horn for the prez when he was a kid in USAF Band of the West. He did get to go up to the stars in a swing with me in OLDE Virginia as we listened to a pondfull of croaking frogs one summer night. There has been so much magic .
Friday, November 26, 2010
flying rapedly
Before leaving I carefully considered each item...minimal packing...few accutrements...so to speak. Mostly black, gray, going for elegant, comfy, refined. I wrapped my suede shoes (worn twice) in tissue paper , pearls in plastic baggy ,.stockings and camisoles carefully rolled. All I did was. to.avoid discord, for above all, I loathe contact with strangers. Even hugs from family & friends are not for me really .So.being violated by a government official came as a shock. Days later I still cringe .... feel the shame. This has changed how I feel about my country & its government. At 62, after years of faithfully voting, paying taxes, public service to the poor, determined to live a decent l ife, I felt.the hands of the state on my BODY.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
groped
Retreating to my mother's house where she no longer lives ...cannot help but think how she'd have reacted to some stranger's hands on her privates! I also wonder my dignity was sacrificed on the altar of political correctness and how many burka s were lifted...how many Muslims were thus violated . Yes, ma'am, they pick the low hanging fruit guessing (wrongly) that a meek, mild mannered 62 y/o catholic school teacher would simply comply.But I am outraged at this profiling. I renounce the govt & political caste that imposed this abuse, no assault on me.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Hummer 4 Me?
Since the BP Disaster, I've begun to KNOW that the world as I knew it really is ending.
I'm sorta giving up. Yes, after 40 years of being as green as could be in the context of my world & times, I'm now calling it quits.
I feel like Chill Wills riding the Nuke in that old Kubrick movie, 1966. What was its name? I grow old, I grow old...shall I wear my trousers rolled (Eliot)Have CRS disease.
So my VW is giving me shit, along with everything else in my life. No AC, again. In So TX, that is a death sentence. The only way to survive a trip to the grocers is to drive real fast w all windows open or else its suffocation before dinner. SO HUMID!!!
+, One more yr of payments to go, & 155K miles.
Why not get a Hummer and become a Humman Being. Just say, f it.
I'm sorta giving up. Yes, after 40 years of being as green as could be in the context of my world & times, I'm now calling it quits.
I feel like Chill Wills riding the Nuke in that old Kubrick movie, 1966. What was its name? I grow old, I grow old...shall I wear my trousers rolled (Eliot)Have CRS disease.
So my VW is giving me shit, along with everything else in my life. No AC, again. In So TX, that is a death sentence. The only way to survive a trip to the grocers is to drive real fast w all windows open or else its suffocation before dinner. SO HUMID!!!
+, One more yr of payments to go, & 155K miles.
Why not get a Hummer and become a Humman Being. Just say, f it.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I Can Eat Sausage!
I Can Eat Sausage
I look around and see no path. Nothing leading me where I want to go. What I’ve been thinking is that religion is a search for who or what is responsible for the deplorable state of the world and all its sorrows. Who or what takes all this beauty and brings it to rack and ruin? Who is making it so that many of us cannot draw an un-medicated breath? I am in a New York frame of mind, when it comes to what is called ‘the environment’. There is no environment, there is a world. I feel like being very direct with myself and with you.
For whatever reason, maybe it’s just all I know, I see such relevance in Christianity and other religions in the BP Gulf of Mexico crisis. I see parallels. I see suffocation, I see suffering, I see death, I see the Slaughter of the Innocents. I imagine what it is like to be a fish or a turtle or a bird, just minding my own business and then being washed over by the oil… and I die gasping. I see Everything that never had to be destroying everything that ever was.
I have come to see the useless destruction of a blameless victim. I look around and I say, “Who’s in charge here?”, and I realize that I am. And it is you, whoever you are. I say, looking at the dying bird, “Who smothered this wonderful creature?”, just as I said, as a child, who killed Christ and why, and what does that mean to me. Historically, when bad things happen to good things, we look around for someone to blame, a poor, miserable, confused scapegoat running pall mall through the storm of accusation and blame, this sort of thing can turn into a Holocaust. Unless I realize that I am responsible.
I look around and I say who, dear God, who is to blame? And I realize that I create and sustain a thing like a British Petroleum through my own stupid consumerism.
I know that since through my actions I uncorked the well that sends the black cloud through the sea, I know I am the only one who can put it back. I can use less of everything starting with my car and my dwelling. I have been in the throes of doing this and by God, this is really hard to do. Trust me. I have no where to set my ‘stuff’…it is suffocating me! I am hiding my shame under a giant pile of things I haddahave. What does the suffering and death of a bird say to me? It says, yes…
You can eat sausage.
Yes, sausage. I was raised to be a carnivore. But not a mindless carnivore. My father and other New Yorkers of my youth ate the whole thing…tongue to tail. They ate tongue sandwiches and sipped oxtail soup. Liverwurst was big. Bologna.Something called Taylor ham. They boiled every chicken carcass. My Dad made not-so-toothsome concoctions after the holidays---Big pots of grey soup. He had been hungry before, you see. He was implacably opposed to the wasteful ways of his children.
The making of a mindless carnivore took an advertising industry working with me, a complicit and lazy carnivore. I have always felt that I deserved a break today, not a beak today.
I do not have a thing about meat. But I think eating a pile o wings off of 16 probably tortured birds is a little buggered up. I can choose to be responsible for the whole thing that sacrifices (doubtlessly unwillingly) for my sustenance. I can eat the whole thing through my choices of foodstuffs. I can get real and eat sausage, for example. I can no longer conscionably pick and choose to consume only parts of what I have caused to be killed. Like a good Indian.
To me, suffering as I do over the Gulf Crisis Du Jour, and as I am sure you do, over the Gulf Spill, over having to have a Memorial Day for the Gulf of Mexico and the Turtles and Birds who gave their lives (we need an Eco Gettysburg Address to honor these noble dead) I must now make choices in every aspect of every day of my life. Nothing less can be expected of one to whom so much has been given.
Yes, I cringe over my own hypocrisy. I blush to toss away that bit of plastic that I should never have had in the first place. I cannot believe I am cooled as a corpse in a morgue twenty-four seven. I know that no make up covers the multitude of my vainglorious sins as expressed through my consumerism.
But I can become deeply conscious that how I treat this planet and its flora and fauna, is a spiritual, a deep soul issue. It is all about mindfulness.
So I cry on and do my best, and make myself see what I have done and am doing.
I remain a “Little Sister of the Wilderness”….
I look around and see no path. Nothing leading me where I want to go. What I’ve been thinking is that religion is a search for who or what is responsible for the deplorable state of the world and all its sorrows. Who or what takes all this beauty and brings it to rack and ruin? Who is making it so that many of us cannot draw an un-medicated breath? I am in a New York frame of mind, when it comes to what is called ‘the environment’. There is no environment, there is a world. I feel like being very direct with myself and with you.
For whatever reason, maybe it’s just all I know, I see such relevance in Christianity and other religions in the BP Gulf of Mexico crisis. I see parallels. I see suffocation, I see suffering, I see death, I see the Slaughter of the Innocents. I imagine what it is like to be a fish or a turtle or a bird, just minding my own business and then being washed over by the oil… and I die gasping. I see Everything that never had to be destroying everything that ever was.
I have come to see the useless destruction of a blameless victim. I look around and I say, “Who’s in charge here?”, and I realize that I am. And it is you, whoever you are. I say, looking at the dying bird, “Who smothered this wonderful creature?”, just as I said, as a child, who killed Christ and why, and what does that mean to me. Historically, when bad things happen to good things, we look around for someone to blame, a poor, miserable, confused scapegoat running pall mall through the storm of accusation and blame, this sort of thing can turn into a Holocaust. Unless I realize that I am responsible.
I look around and I say who, dear God, who is to blame? And I realize that I create and sustain a thing like a British Petroleum through my own stupid consumerism.
I know that since through my actions I uncorked the well that sends the black cloud through the sea, I know I am the only one who can put it back. I can use less of everything starting with my car and my dwelling. I have been in the throes of doing this and by God, this is really hard to do. Trust me. I have no where to set my ‘stuff’…it is suffocating me! I am hiding my shame under a giant pile of things I haddahave. What does the suffering and death of a bird say to me? It says, yes…
You can eat sausage.
Yes, sausage. I was raised to be a carnivore. But not a mindless carnivore. My father and other New Yorkers of my youth ate the whole thing…tongue to tail. They ate tongue sandwiches and sipped oxtail soup. Liverwurst was big. Bologna.Something called Taylor ham. They boiled every chicken carcass. My Dad made not-so-toothsome concoctions after the holidays---Big pots of grey soup. He had been hungry before, you see. He was implacably opposed to the wasteful ways of his children.
The making of a mindless carnivore took an advertising industry working with me, a complicit and lazy carnivore. I have always felt that I deserved a break today, not a beak today.
I do not have a thing about meat. But I think eating a pile o wings off of 16 probably tortured birds is a little buggered up. I can choose to be responsible for the whole thing that sacrifices (doubtlessly unwillingly) for my sustenance. I can eat the whole thing through my choices of foodstuffs. I can get real and eat sausage, for example. I can no longer conscionably pick and choose to consume only parts of what I have caused to be killed. Like a good Indian.
To me, suffering as I do over the Gulf Crisis Du Jour, and as I am sure you do, over the Gulf Spill, over having to have a Memorial Day for the Gulf of Mexico and the Turtles and Birds who gave their lives (we need an Eco Gettysburg Address to honor these noble dead) I must now make choices in every aspect of every day of my life. Nothing less can be expected of one to whom so much has been given.
Yes, I cringe over my own hypocrisy. I blush to toss away that bit of plastic that I should never have had in the first place. I cannot believe I am cooled as a corpse in a morgue twenty-four seven. I know that no make up covers the multitude of my vainglorious sins as expressed through my consumerism.
But I can become deeply conscious that how I treat this planet and its flora and fauna, is a spiritual, a deep soul issue. It is all about mindfulness.
So I cry on and do my best, and make myself see what I have done and am doing.
I remain a “Little Sister of the Wilderness”….
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Amazing Grace Moment
Amazing Grace Moment
What a year for epiphanies! Looking at dead and dying marine life is always stressful, sad, threatening…especially knowing that by my thoughtless actions, and those of my fellows, I have had a hand in their deaths…hurts the soul. I could never just walk up to a bird and pour oil over it and cause it to suffocate. Take that, Ms. Egret!
Could I? No, but I can sure drive my car two blocks when I could certainly walk or bike to my destination. Then I might not harm a single feather.
The latest Torture of the Innocents we are seeing on TV, the calves beaten with metal rods, etc., reminds me of the Biblical Slaughter of the Innocents. What did these poor baby animals do to bring out the Anti-Christ in man? How am I responsible---before I point the finger at the slaughter house workers I saw on my screen yesterday?
The hymn “Amazing Grace” is the leitmotif for our time---we will wake up when our own bacon is on the line, we will, as cowards, turn to prayer, the government, “regulators” and authorities instead of doing it ourselves. All of these are great but have their limits. We need a new favorite hymn, maybe. Sung to the tune of A.G. it could go, something like:
“Responsiiiiible, that’s what I am. I have to help, Myyyyyself…I have to save the pre-e-e-cious birds and leave the calves alone…I know that I sure have a role, in all I see before…Me… iiiin the Gulf of Mexico, and in the slaughter homes….”
Follow the bouncing ball!
Gods, if you will only save me now I will never drive another unnecessary mile in my o-so-unnecessary-SUV. I swear that I will combine my trips, think before I drive, eat less and less meat! If you will deign to save my bacon this time, I will eat less and less of someone else’s.
Ye Gods, I know I cannot say I have absolutely no role in the beating and cruelty done to innocent calves. It is my appetites that, in part, have brought this about. I know I cannot say, “Tough it out, Mr. Turtle. I guess its just your karma.
What will it take, O Lords of the Universe, for me and mine to behave? Will we need to be (and this is a direction in which we seem to be headed) under constant and continual surveillance? Up with the big lights. I have to be watched 24/7 to be a decent Humanthing.Oh! Dear Gods and Goddesses, Dear Jesu, Maria, Shiva and Alla, come to find out, as we say in Texas, I am responsible!
What a year for epiphanies! Looking at dead and dying marine life is always stressful, sad, threatening…especially knowing that by my thoughtless actions, and those of my fellows, I have had a hand in their deaths…hurts the soul. I could never just walk up to a bird and pour oil over it and cause it to suffocate. Take that, Ms. Egret!
Could I? No, but I can sure drive my car two blocks when I could certainly walk or bike to my destination. Then I might not harm a single feather.
The latest Torture of the Innocents we are seeing on TV, the calves beaten with metal rods, etc., reminds me of the Biblical Slaughter of the Innocents. What did these poor baby animals do to bring out the Anti-Christ in man? How am I responsible---before I point the finger at the slaughter house workers I saw on my screen yesterday?
The hymn “Amazing Grace” is the leitmotif for our time---we will wake up when our own bacon is on the line, we will, as cowards, turn to prayer, the government, “regulators” and authorities instead of doing it ourselves. All of these are great but have their limits. We need a new favorite hymn, maybe. Sung to the tune of A.G. it could go, something like:
“Responsiiiiible, that’s what I am. I have to help, Myyyyyself…I have to save the pre-e-e-cious birds and leave the calves alone…I know that I sure have a role, in all I see before…Me… iiiin the Gulf of Mexico, and in the slaughter homes….”
Follow the bouncing ball!
Gods, if you will only save me now I will never drive another unnecessary mile in my o-so-unnecessary-SUV. I swear that I will combine my trips, think before I drive, eat less and less meat! If you will deign to save my bacon this time, I will eat less and less of someone else’s.
Ye Gods, I know I cannot say I have absolutely no role in the beating and cruelty done to innocent calves. It is my appetites that, in part, have brought this about. I know I cannot say, “Tough it out, Mr. Turtle. I guess its just your karma.
What will it take, O Lords of the Universe, for me and mine to behave? Will we need to be (and this is a direction in which we seem to be headed) under constant and continual surveillance? Up with the big lights. I have to be watched 24/7 to be a decent Humanthing.Oh! Dear Gods and Goddesses, Dear Jesu, Maria, Shiva and Alla, come to find out, as we say in Texas, I am responsible!
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