The Magic Bullshit Shield

Imagery.

I imagine something and make it viewable. I write something and make it imaginable. I + mage = Image. We are all mages, tricksters and creators. ALL of us. How this expresses itself is the only variable.

I respond, with my tactile senses, to something and it moves me to a non-tactile ‘place.’ It moves me to the ‘mage magic’ place. This is expressed in so many ways. When I was young there was a girl who was on the cheerleading squad. I only have seen this once in my life and I have seen many cheerleading squads but she was exceptional.

Why?

I tried to figure it out for a long time. She had short, dirty dishwater blond hair. She had terrible acne. She could not do the splits of any of the fancy stuff the rest of the squad did. Her parents were poor and not ‘town team sponsors’ (which will often get an ‘average’ girl an ‘exceptional’ placement.) She was NOTHING at all like a cheerleader and she was not even a SNOB!

She was like no one I ever met and I liked her and so did everyone else. I asked her, while riding that ugly yellow signature school-bus, what her secret was. See, at that time, everyone was calling me a ‘witch’ and so I was studying that. In those days, way out in the tall grass boonies of Oklahoma, in those ranch town libraries, about the only thing you could find was about the Salem Witch Trials. She looked at me in a strange way and then she said, “I am happy and I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I am happy anyway.”

She really WAS happy but there was more to it than that. Her personality ‘stuck out’ farther than her skin. Her soul was larger than her body. After that I started to LOOK AT people and LOOK INTO them. I learned this:

The two do not always match.

There are those walking around in this world who are very powerful people and yet do not fit any descriptors of what a powerful person should look like or be. In doing this I met many such people over the course of my life. There was the young man who was the shortest, most snaggle toothed kid in the school and yet, when he played music, the girls who hung out with the homecoming queen would ask him out on dates. Once his band mates asked him what his secret was and why weren’t they getting any action as they were tall and ripped in comparison to him. He just smiled and shook his head.

There was the hippie English teacher who was weird and stoned and yet we learned more in her class, than we ever would learn anywhere else, about language and how it works. She was tall and strange with wild black hair and everyone made fun of her. She didn’t care what they thought.

It wasn’t the ‘I don’t care’ that is a REACTION to bullies and their bull shit but an ACTION that told the bullshit people, before they reached that stage, that their bullshit was not going to work.

That was the secret. Understanding what bullshit is and making yourself impervious to it.

Bullshit proof.

So for the New Year hits that is my wish for all my friends: that you keep, or learn to wield, your magic ‘bullshit shield.’

The Ones We Never Get

The most epic loves are the ones we never get.

I say this, not to take away from those relationships that people have throughout their lives because it takes a deep and spiritual love to stay the course with someone for 40 or 50 years and forgive the horrendous things humans do to each other, but I say this in the sense of the idea of a kind of dream-like purity that transcends the ordinary. Of this unrequited love the stuff of epic myth and romance comes. Beethoven composed ‘Fur Elise’ and Edgar Allan Poe wrote ‘Annabelle Lee’ for these reasons.

But it isn’t always about who dies. Death can also be metaphorical. A person can spend a lifetime at the altar of Love and never have ‘it’ as ‘It’ is understood from time immemorial. The Kama Sutra was written by monks living on a mountaintop.

The love you never get is exquisite. It takes on a life of it’s own and it becomes a part of the definition of who we are as we project ourselves onto it in a way that could never be if we had to live with it’s human counterpart every day. It is never indecorous. It is the perfection of Galatea. It never grows old. We may grow old but it lives inside our brains like a diyah light in a dark and endless Alone. It is the companion of the old, the poor, and the forgotten. It is the muse of poets and artists and it is the reason why the one no one wants, smiles, for no reason, in the flow of uncaring Life.

This is the love that sings chorus after chorus of the impossible and rides the crest of dreams. It is the Voice of the self that seeks to belong to itself and it is the desire to give freely of the secrets you have made of the epic nothingness you shaped into beauty. It is the unspoken savagery of lust and the soaring flights of purity and it sings the whole range from bass to soprano with one throat.

It looks at the world from a thousand faces so lovely and yet so unaware of their own beauty and it holds them like gems, uncaring they be glass or diamonds. Yet with millions of words there is no way to describe how this great love feels in it’s totality of expression from the depths of the sewers to the roof of the skies.

The love you never get cannot be owned, It can’t be traded or tossed away or forgotten. It will find you while you cry over what was lost and take your hand and lead you into a new tale. It is never wasted time. For some it is all they will ever have. The love that was never conquered is like nature in it’s pristine and untamed state: lovely and devastating.

It makes you joyous you can still feel the depths of loss even as you get up out of the pool of tears and keep on going.Roses

The Meaning of Truth

An old ‘frenemie’ and I were discussing the meaning of truth, as he was backpedalling on the issue, having found out that what I had told him was, indeed, the truth. After I posted my medical records online he messaged me saying that the people at the hospital were lying to me. He said my family was lying to me and everyone was lying to me. Now, not only was I a liar but everyone connected to me was also a liar because of those records.

Then he began to post about how all truth is a lie and how this means he really didn’t sleep with his best friend’s goof and how I was a gay man attacking him from 20 profiles. So I did attack him from five profiles since he gave me the idea and was calling everyone I knew a liar.

Since then I go back and read his page and find he still argues that all truth is a lie and nothing but illusion. That is probably why the red headed Russian girl named Olga left him. So today I am reminded of one exchange I made with him during one of the ‘attacks’ on him.

“So if truth is a lie then you are saying that I can fly without any aids other than my mind because gravity is a lie?”

“Yes, gravity is a lie.”

“Ok explain how gravity is a lie.”

“Well we are mostly all dark matter connected by vibrating strings….”

“Yes yes I understand that but what does that have to do with me being able to fly?”

“Well if you believe you are able to fly than you can fly.”

“OK Art Linklater’s son got bombed on acid and jumped off a building and went ‘kersplatt’ but his buddy said it was because he was sure, in his ‘enhanced’ state, that he could fly. He is not the only one that has done this. So you will tell the families of these dead boys they were liars because they believed they could jump off a building but they REALLY did not believe it but wanted to commit suicide and just didn’t admit it…”

“STOP! JUST STOP YOU ARE MIXING THINGS UP!”

“No I’m not I am asking you what truth means and you obviously don’t know. Since you don’t know why don’t you test your theory and go jump off a building?”

“You so negative! No wonder people can’t stand you!”

“You are a liar so no wonder people love you!”

“I am NOT a liar! I am telling the truth!”

“Oh really? I thought there was no truth?”

Become the Cookie!

2008-10-10 15.57.32

It isn’t ‘either/or’ it is ‘and/and’.

That is something people sometimes don’t understand about me. Most do but most are not trying to marry me. The very few who want me all to themselves, for some reason, miss the point that there are people in the world I love and the choice is not ‘me or everyone else’, the choice is ‘me AND everyone else.’

I have been in long term marriages and relationships with people who defined the meaning of ‘relationship’ as ‘either/or’. I was that was once myself and imposed a vast loneliness upon myself thinking that was the right thing to do.

It isn’t.

What happens when it is either/or is the eventual growth of dependency, martyrdom and, in the end, actual dislike. People in healthy relationships have ‘others friends’ and having those friends does not mean they are cheating and much of the time those friends are the same gender and they are not gay OR lesbian.

Human beings need approbation from each other. We need good times and a circle of love to live in. We need more than one friend and even, sometimes, if we are very lucky, more than one ‘bestie.’

I am not gonna lie and say I am perfect. I play here every once in a while and those people have respect and they KNOW that the ‘love’ that we have is based on a solid understanding of reality. I don’t stalk their pages to see what girls they like and, actually, I don’t chat that much with them either and they know I don’t cam and they respect the kind of person I am and I try to give that back and if I KNOW someone is married I step back.

But the last couple of years I hardly do that anymore either. Only once in several months. I am getting older and less interested in that stuff as anything more than ‘word games for the brain.’ A friend from a long time ago taught me this term, ‘mental masturbation.’ I didn’t do it with you either kid because I just couldn’t. I ‘lost it’ and did that with someone a little more mature. Someone who understands he and I are never going to be together and has no expectations of me and treats me like a good friend still.

It’s weird because being online is kind like interactive TV. You might really have a crush on someone and, in the old days, you got to stare at a movie or a poster and the only interaction was the one you had with yourself. Now you can go online and find ‘hotties’ with cams set up that do nothing all day but ‘interact’ and the chances of the one who is in love with that girl (and guys too these days!) will get that one for a life partner are about as probable as getting to marry Leonardo DiCaprio or Angelina Jolie.

It gets a little bit ridiculous but we can’t help ourselves even if we have self control. The world might see someone who never does anything wrong and that one might be carrying around ‘Justine’ in their head and you would never know it. That brings us back to what I started. It can never be, in the real world of real people, ‘either/or’. No matter HOW MUCH you want that big cookie all to yourself SOMEONE is gonna bite it while you aren’t looking. That is life.

That big cookie is love and everyone loves that big cookie and if you are gonna love people you are gonna be sharing that big cookie with the whole world and that big cookie might have sex in it but it really has nothing at all to do with sex and everything to do with basic human needs. The thing that makes people the most loved and envied is not how much of that cookie they can eat but whether or not they have the ability to ‘become the cookie.’

What Price?

What price is there
For living life the way you chose
How much did it cost
To get to the bench you sit on now
Watching flowers grow?

How many upside down
Glass cups of hash smoke
Broke how many cherries bled
In vans of orgies
We chose to attend
With peanut butter at the end?

How many plastic baggies fill
The land-fill
That were once filled
With Colombian Gold
Spanish missionaries never found
How much
Was every breath of nicotine
And every thing we dropped
In mystery
Not knowing what the end would be
Until it fooled us
We were free.

Yes we
Forgot who died
Who went into the wild
Sans the wisdom to know not
To eat the root
Yet wrote the book
After a life was gone
Here we are
We have to carry on
And on and on and on
Until we reach whatever we head to.

What is it that we seek
We never ask it
Until we’re weak and then it comes
In shocked surprise and dangles
Just before our eyes… yes:
A universal joke
That started with a daring toke
Ending when the hash-smoke broke
And left us standing here alone.

I would have married you the day
I ran my childish hands
Through still brown curls
But our world
Says that such a union is doomed for Hell
And so we knew it and we ever only blew it
In our minds because I’m certain
I was not the only one who felt that way
I did I knew too much
Though just a kid
I wished you would take me home with you
But you belonged to the world
For all you were a rebel man
And now the world passed us
In a thundering roar.
It’s too late to know the score and
There’s no chance for any more.

The short short days with halter tops
Were short short days until the youth stops
And the pride of place is lost
In the dub step shuffle of decades
While you hold the memories of years
Jewels falling out of trembling hands
Into the abyss of forever
All the places that you dreamed of are still
Nothing more than foreign lands
Full of the same war we fought
Over and over before just with different names
But it’s all the same King of the Games.

So here I am
Writing these words
While my old cat drools over birds
At his best place by the French doors
That maybe once let in oil-whores
That I ran with for long enough
To know what love is worth
For a night
After several drinks
When no one’s thinking
It will send and you won’t even know
The name of who it was thirty years later
You will only recall a ginger ass
Bouncing in the dark
While the starry skies flew over head
Wars came home
With coffins full of the dead
Blue skies fled across the hours and days and years….

…until it is that sunshine falls
Upon the public housing walls
And the wheeled walker
To the bus stop full of people
Your grandfather would cry to see you hug….

…or maybe smile…

…because we are only here such a very short while.

(photo by thecontrail.com )

thecontrail.com

Frazy

I am crazy.

Crazy and alone and no one to explain this to who will know what I mean. Those who would understand would have no more to tell me than I know myself. There is nothing like suffering love without someplace to bestow it. I know what love is. I know if I have it or not. All of that is illusion in any case but when you face the fact it is, indeed, like a mirage in the Desert of Death you are suddenly free to feel all of it in any format or type and it is all so beautiful and unreachable and that is, perhaps, love as it is best expressed: Unconsummated.

There is a kind of emotion that is so strong it is dangerous to feel it. It is the kind of emotion that cannot ever be expressed. It is the reason people fly rickety aeroplanes over the Atlantic. It is the reason people jump off mountain cliffs, without parachutes, trusting that a squirrel suit will save them. In this roaring volcano of emotion a small child sits, filled with wonder, and watches the fire-works of the human heart explode.

The Life They Lived

Another person is dead today because of the kind of life they lived.

This person will join hundred’s of thousands of other folks, all over the world, who have died because they were too free, too happy, lived over oil-rich ground, didn’t need a bank, were addicted to drugs, were _______ (fill in blank) and were ALIVE once upon a time. I am not going to add a name to the start of this because, at the same time one makes the news, several more go to their graves with no fan-fair.

Not even a mother’s tears.

This world is really messed up. The weapons of choice depend on the actors whether they be whole nations or single individuals but whether or not it’s a knife, a gun, a truck or an A-bomb makes no difference: thousands of people died and will die because of the kind of life they lived. There are the ones no one knows about until they are dead. Kids of colour or lower socio-economic status who are just street litter for target practice in the inner cities of every nation on earth. They die daily. They die the same way as those who are incinerated in the fires of bombs in wars they never asked for.

I don’t mean to diminish anyone whose death is ‘The Headline of the Day’. Death diminishes all of us. Killing someone for oil or sin either one is as low as humanity can go (unless the sin breaks some universal law we can all agree upon like “All murder is bad.” or “Stealing is wrong.” Hardly anyone will be horribly upset if a serial killer is killed and not many will be terribly sad if a serial thief is locked up).

People make the memes making fun of this one or that one for not caring about who died or why they died and for not wanting to see that the world is on the brink of what might be a mass self annihilation of the human race and I understand very well why there are those who hate the news.

I hate the news.

I would much rather find Pikachu in someone’s ass, make fun of a Tahir Shah song, or gaze at photos of incredible beaches than I would see the frightened and gaunt faces of people fleeing their homelands which are now rubble and dust. I am glad Malala is alive to celebrate another birthday and I am sad that this girl ‘Qandeel’ is dead and If I never knew her name before I know it now. By killing her you gave her a vast huge importance she would have never had before had you let her live and more than that I am sad for all the atrocities we humans have visited on each other in the name of God and morality while destroying our own morality in the process.

We are God?

We have the right to dispose of another human life for this small offense or that one? The one who kills loses too. Even if you get away with murder the world is gonna know it and you are not gonna find someone who will really love you, on this earth, ever again except your mom and you made her cry her eyes out because you killed another one of her children and just destroyed your paradise under her feet.

Astagfirullah.
For all the ones who think they know and all the ones who are sure they don’t but mostly me for seeing my fellow man with such a jaundiced eye. We were made to be higher than the angels. How the shaitans must be laughing at all of us.

Tales From The Bus Stop

The wet heat spackled the bus stop squatters with sweat. She sat in the power chair watching two clouds reach out to each other in the broad blue sky above the buildings. The clouds curled towards each other as if to try to make love in the almost barely present huffs of air and far above a twister formed and unformed in the sunshine. Although she was mostly deaf as deaf goes in one who once heard birds and orchestras and sang arias with her now dead father…

she shook her head.

There was an odd tinkle in the clear blue as the clouds tried so hard to impress one another with dancing shapes of T-Rex skeletons and eagles faces and the angelic music pelted down softly in her one good ear. It was a sound that was barely there. Surely it was angels?

She smiled at nothing and looked around from behind the dark UV lenses.

There was a boy with a cardboard sign and a beat up portable keyboard that sat in his lap. Although people who were beggars did not attempt to look nice this boy did look nice. He wore a white, pressed shirt and one fake rhinestone in his ear. His lips moved softly and his close-cropped black hair had stars shaven in it. A ring of homeless people sat around him while he played and expected nothing from those who had nothing. He opened his eyes, dark and dancing like the clouds, and smiled at the audience before the number 38 that went downtown swept them away in a whoosh of loud rumble…

Papa

Papa

We say goodbye
Each moment flies away
I never loved you enough

We

We loved so deeply it was hate
Our strong weakness
Belonging no where
To no one
Escaping any way we could

The unlivable moment

The unlivable moment
I fight the demons you left behind
You lived them
I let my mouth form your words
Until you could not stand
You use my eyes to see
I am now in your tracks
You walk with me now
The future of lost impossibilities

You tried so hard
Inspiring death
You tried to be
Inspiring fear
A man no one taught you to be
Inspiring awe
Working each idea each day
Hurling prayers in tornadic winds
Throwing time away
A force like Nature
For all our sakes

A Titan

A baby crying
The bloody walls
You tried to teach me
The bloody halls
You tried so hard
The moment peace came
Intensity without a name
In golden strength
Singing away the years
Until you sang
Tears slide into tears
Waves of life away
One tear slides
Full of burning water

The saddest part
That loved never loved
Of each of you
Full of your heart
Screams in my head
Every tear falling now
Old lullabies

Old lullabies
Can we start everything again
When love was a river
Walk against this limit
When there was a family
Papa take my hand
When there was a chance
To

LIVE

Tales From The Bus Stop

The bus was late and the day was deep, hot and lovely. the sun high low hemming the spring skyline and my nose was ‘Claritin.’

The swim had been good with only one facial cramp and the light was sweet through the polarized lenses of the glassed making the greens greener and the blues bluer.

The traffic was bumper-packed as the last of the oilies and cattlemen roamed home and there she was.

I would not have noticed her except her eyes met mine and they looked like pity. She was a saran wrapped doll of any age really with bleached white hair of a length that was indeterminate except that I could not see where it ended in the frame of the car window as the sun cut through the screens in a direct hit on the falling evening. I am not sure if she knew I could see her also.

She was wearing pearls and gold and silk as the traffic stalled right before me. She answered a cell phone and perfect white chiclet teeth flashed in the sun as it bounced around her golden beauty both at once plastic and sculpted by a master doctor. Perfect symmetry. She kept staring at me as the car passed an I looked back at her although not directly. I did not want to ruin her moment of poverty tourism.

Pity.

What was the pity for? My wild wooly curly white blond halo undyed and unhidden by artifice: my age? Was it my face? My face devoid of MacMakeup and salon painting? Was it my walker with the homemade seat cover in a wild pink and green of scraps left from another project? What was this pity for? Was it my crooked stand from my crooked back or was it the fact I waited for a ride, by the road, like the local homeless bus riders?

Maybe I will never know?

I am glad she has a hubby or a sugar daddy or an inheritance that gives her all that but I did not understand why she looked at me like I was lacking in the things of life. Life was all around me and it was amazing!

Smoke Screen

I watched a bit of a news program with the typical talking heads and it gave me an idea.
1) Which religions believe being gay will send you to hell?
Have you ever heard of ‘conversion therapy’? Muslims did not invent that. You can argue that Muslims put gays to death for being gay but ignore the Christians that beat gay guys to death. Is thinking homosexuality is a sin ‘wrong thought?’ If it is ‘wrong thought’ then a heck of a lot more religions than Islam are ‘guilty.’
2) Which religions do not allow women to preach and teach the ‘Word.’
If you think it is only Islam you are wrong again. There are only certain ‘sects’ of Christianity that allow women preachers and teachers. Many expressions of religion are ‘women-free’ at the top. Check it it’s real.
3) Which religions bar women from running a country?
It isn’t Islam.
4) Which religions believe that killing a fetus is murder and that women should not have choice and there fore be ‘oppressed’? ONLY Islam?????
Fundamentalist Christianity is even more strict about that, in certain sects, than Islam!
5) Which religions believe in the death penalty?
Arguments about why it is applied aside, (see the ‘Genocide of the Americas’ and the topic of ‘Lynching’), what nations puts the most people to death with the death penalty? If you chose a Muslim nation *BZZZTTTT*
You’re wrong. China leads with America a close second.
6) Which religion oppresses women the most?
Actually the most repressive religion for women’s rights is not Islam. The most repressive religion is not even recognized as a religion although the masses worship at it’s altar as if it WERE a ‘god’. It is the religion that makes women turn to bulimia and anorexia. It is the religion that makes all the women at Fox News end up with enough plastic to die beautiful. It is the religion that causes young girls to use drugs and suicide if they can’t ever be ‘pretty and thin’ enough. It is the religion that breaks up marriages with pornography and whores and the much touted and fun ‘cheaters ping pong’ (he cheats I cheat he cheats I cheat he cheats I cheat…your serve?)
7) Which religion forces conversion?
They all have. Every single one of them. Long ago or right now. Ask Native Americans about the use of force in religion. Ask both the living and the dead. “Be what I am or die.” God and religion were never the reason for forced conversion HUMANS were the reason and are the reason for that. Personally I used to be friends with a young girl who had a hormone issue that caused her to look exactly like a guy…moustache and all just like a guy and she was a lesbian. She was invited to a local church sleep in where she was surrounded by over 50 screaming kids waving bibles at her and backing her in to a corner chanting, “You are going to HELL! You are going to HELL!” Everyone in these parts knows which church that is they are FAMOUS. She will hate Christianity all her life because of them.
The questions are endless and so are the answers but what it all boils down to is the idea of ‘wrong thought.’
If we are going to judge religions based on the idea of ‘wrong thought’ then we will have to eliminate ALL of them. They all have ‘wrong thought.’
The real debate is being smoke screened by red-herring ideas. Should we have freedom from religion or freedom to be whatever religion we please? If you are not free to be whatever you please are you still ‘free?’
This is where things seem to get complicated in the media but they really are not complicated at all. You see, what each of us THINKS is not the important thing. The important thing is what each of us DOES. A Hindu, A Jew, A Christian, A Buddhist, A Pagan and A Muslim all go to a coffee shop owned by an Atheist because they want coffee. They don’t care who is selling the coffee they just want coffee. The lady who owns the shop might think they are a bunch of religious nuts and they are all SURE that she, and each other, are all going to hell or going to fail at reaching Nirvana and have to end up several lives as rats and pigs but they have better things to do than argue about what each other is thinking. They have movies to talk about. They have jobs to go to. They have families to care for and if you look at Maslow’s famous Pyramid it hardly matters to the great masses of people, in the grand scheme of things, who is going to go to hell because they chose (fill in the blank) ________. We can’t base our opinions on what we think we know about what other people think. That makes about as much sense as pounding sand down a rat hole.
Peace.

Ceramic Angels

Back in the ‘long ago days’ I had a friend named Theresa Semlar. ‘Been over three decades since I had any truck with her but she was a nice gal as gals go and I gave her a little set of ceramic angels, that prayed, for her birthday. One day mom and dad came in my room and gave me the angels back. They said she had come to the door and said she could not keep them because her mom said they had sprouted wings and horns and devil tails and were flying around the house so I took back my present.

Those angels never flew for me.

Many years later a good friend gave me another one of those angels. It was a sweet gift and I kept it. I lost it yesterday. 24 years later it was stolen from a plant arrangement outside my apartment in the indoor planter box assigned to me.

Weird.

The night before I had caught a lady messing with the plants and she told me she had ‘fixed’ mine. She is killing the plants maybe. Running around with a pair of scissors and chopping up all the plants. No doubt some people will be mad at her. No doubt at all. She looked at me and stuttered that she was trying to keep the plants alive.

Maybe she was.

Today I went downstairs and she was trying to cut down a ceiling high palm tree in the lobby and had it halfway done. I went back upstairs to water what she has left of my plants and the angel, from a great friend I might never see again in this life, was gone.

I got angry and went inside and made a sign on a popcicle stick to put in the plant pot where the angel went missing. On it I had written,

‘To the one who stole this. Rest assured it will grow horns
and a tail and fly around your room at night.”

I was going to take it outside and plant it in the pot with the, now, nearly-pruned-away-dead red Elephant Ear and something stopped me. You know that little voice inside? It said.

“What if you go crazy one day? What if the thing you are going to do in half-jest drives that woman over the edge and she jumps off the fourth floor balcony in fear that a ceramic angel grew horns and a tail and came to life now that the winter winds and the earth quakes make the building shake?”

I put my sign in the trash. My love for my old friend lives in my heart…

…not in a ceramic angel.

The Fat Gimp and the Deuterostome

Ka Mosh

The other day a man made a comment about my, and other women’s, swimming suits as being ‘clothes’ and one was not supposed to wear ‘clothes’ to the pool. He had brought his wife and his tween daughter, both wearing ‘almost thong’ bikini’s. No one noticed him or cared until he got a ‘tude with the lifeguard.
The whole family had a snotty ‘tude. Now here I am going to say they were lily white only I look whiter than their whole family and I am not lily white, and about 200 years ago it would not have mattered if I was as white as a fishes belly if ANYONE knew I had a drop of NDN, a drop of Jewish and, of course, those Scotch-Irish and French dogs from ‘loozy’ana’ territory that would (GASP HORROR OF HORRORS!) Marry non-white folk! I am pretty sure they were not any whiter than me or most people are anymore but GAWD they strutted that ‘tude!
Thank God my mother never let me know there was a ‘tude’ I could have for being a blondinka!
All of us ‘crips and gimps’ were in the ‘slow’ lane and the ‘fast lanes’ were full of lap swimmers. Two white guys one brown guy and one black guy. The two white guys were, uhm, specially paired you might say and they come at the same time every day and share a lane and they get there early so they can get a lane together.
The man walked up to the lifeguard, (she is a wild old lady who had a better body than the man’s preening-skinny-fake-boobs-wife but was wearing a little more bathing suit) and he started in on her why were the lap swimmers there and smiling a mean little smile while the words of complaint flew from his mouth and his wife looked at all of us crip-gimp women in the pool with our long shorts and T-shirts like she was the Queen of Sheba or something. I mean seriously we should ENJOY you show off crooked legs or missing arms or crooked backs? We are not there to show off we are there to SWIM!
Then the man said something about allowing people to wear street clothes in the water!
Oh I wanted to go off on him SO BAD.
Anyway me and the rest of the gimps offered to go share the lanes with the brown guy and the black guy who were more than happy to allow us to impede their speed, being aware of what was occurring at some level and the life guard, like a holy-angel-pool-guardian, pointed at the empty lane and said,
“THERE SIR! YOU AND YOUR FAMILY CAN HAVE THAT LANE ALL TO YOURSELVES! NO ONE WANTS TO SWIM WITH YOU!”
The man said, “No thanks we are leaving this place it is NOT FRIENDLY!”
Everyone was SO GLAD he left.
But I wanted to rip him a new one SO BAD!
Today I thought about what I wanted to tell him:
Sir!
YES YOU SIR!
Look at me! I am whiter than your wife! You are too good to share lanes with my FELLOW SWIMMERS but if everyone looked like me it wouldn’t bother you except we are wearing MODEST suits and don’t look like we are ADVERTISING for sexual favours! That BOTHERS you? You think I am white? Yeah I am white and I was raised white but lemme tell you something: I got a drop of Jewish and a drop of NDN and a drop of CREOLE and I am an AMERICAN MUTT and proud of it so if you swim in the SAME pool I swim in you share the same pee that leaks outta everyone here when they flip for the next lap! You think for one minute you are pure anything? Go get a gene test and shock the hell outta yourself! But you know what? I am democratic and I am even going to give you the right to be an asshole! Yeah that’s right you heard me! You can think we are fat and dowdy and racially impure and refuse to share lanes with people who would have let you because they are not you and the women here don’t look like your wife and yeah we ARE all the things you think we are and we are HAPPY about that and we will GRANT you your right to be an asshole in peace so shut the hell up and take your free lane and SWIM. You can pee in the water too we know you will and none of us are scared your germs will make any of us into assholes. Have a good day SIR!
But you know…
I was having a damn good time swimming and I had no time to waste on an asshole!

On the Right

“Here are the top hottest women of Instagram. Number one will shatter your mind.”

I just saw that ad and knew the cookie makers still think I am a guy. Next to that ad was an ad for plastic surgery to make you look younger, an ad about a woman whose husband left her for a younger man and she had to take ‘drastic action’ to preserve her looks and last, but not least, the venerable ad for Viagra.

Sex sex and more sex. Youth rules. Old people need plastic surgery and new teeth and, BTW, you can now buy realistic penis implants.

I kept on looking at the sh*t served on the side and saw a little blurb about ‘marching towards world war three’ and to top everything off Putin now owns most of the frozen tundra. And North America is on fire out west and the Chinese send scrambler jets out every time Obama visits Alaska.

“Watch out where the Huskies go…don’t you eat that yellow snow…and like Frank Zappa also said, “We are DUMB ALL OVER!”

“Pay us to boost your book sales!”

Really this means, (with a very few exceptions like,say, Samuel T. Clemons), that you are rich enough to publish yourself but you really suck as a writer so if you pay us more money than the 5 to 10 K you already spent on several hundred copies of junk you will end up giving away as Christmas gifts, to family, until you die, we will find people with money who will buy your trash for the cover photo on it.

Of course there is the ‘celebrity that lied’ and was ‘kicked from television.’ Quite a few have been kicked from TV including Oprah and Ellen D. but they are still on TV so who’s a liar?

People who guard our nuclear arsenals sit in the gang hoods, on the front porch, armed so they can hang out in the evenings. The price of milk went up 100% or more in the last two years relative to the price of tea in China.

The TV people tell us who to hate. They also tell us who to vote for and what to buy. Someone said, (I can’t recall who), “If voting changed anything it wouldn’t be allowed. Donald Trump is just doing his duty as the paid clown to off-set the vote for the Demicans and the Republicrats.

One bird, two wings, same …. anyway you can save on phone calls with Vonage. It says so right there on the right!

Every Life is Epic

Life is a choice.

We don’t have to choose to stay but we do stay. We stay to honour what God made even if no one else honours us. We sing our own songs by ourselves if we must. We wake up every day and keep going even when there does not seem to be a reason to live one more minute. We do this because of Love. In spite of all the things people have said against us we keep on. No matter how alone things are…no matter how many words are written for no reason…nothing matters except the will that says, “Carry on.”

Then, from the floor of the abyss of Hell you look up and see the angels singing, you see the stars shining, and you know you are not alone! There may be no people near but there are spirits everywhere offering you their love and help. It no longer matters what the world will do. Life and death become immaterial. You get up off the floor and stand.

Suddenly God is everywhere! Suddenly the entire universe praises in chorus! All of the petty intrigues and directed wars on this earth are shown in their true light: A play. A play directed by puppets who think they have control of something and have control of nothing. A play written by those who think they know the ‘secret’ and they know so little they would seem like infants who split one atom before the God who made every atom and allowed them to split one.

All we are given to be did not come from our own creation. We were given these things to be, even the things we would call a mistake, we are both the good and the evil. We are the light and the dark, and though we choose we are still destined to live the words written on the fabric of the universe.

Live them then! Whatever they are you have been given to be. Be that!

Never think you know what it is someone else’s job to be. You can only live one destiny here and now. Walk forwards into the strongest winds. If you cannot walk then crawl. If you cannot crawl then roll but do not stop until your heart contracts one last time and that electric force in you is freed to soar into realities we cannot possibly comprehend, within ourselves, as we are here.

When I am so full of love there is no one to give it to I send it out into the nothingness of everything on the wings of song while I think of the beautiful faces and amazing minds that are linked to mine and I know I am never alone no matter how alone I am. Prayers and intent are sent, with every direction of every cell, to pour wealth, success and happiness, even on those I cannot stand because I know very well there are those who cannot stand me.

If it is the eve of the ‘end’ or the dawn of the beginning makes no difference to the circle we stand in.

I love you God. I love you with every tear and every laugh and every sin and every good deed and everything you made me to be. I love you God like I never loved any human being on this earth because when I am alone here and there is NOTHING but me and silence YOU are here!

My reason to be.
My greatest love.

(With a nod to Martin Luther King for an idea)