Noize In The Hood

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A Purchased Life

When Thomas Elkin got his wildly inflated, otherworldly yearly bonus, first call he made was to his favorite hooker - $3,000 a night, sheets included. Next, he called his mother, thrilled with his worldly success. Lastly, he called a woman who would no longer talk to him, getting her voice mail as always. If only she could see me now! On an orb spinning in darkness, he bowed down to his well-financed image, hoping the illusion to be true.

Amanda Wittenberg dutifully ran the family shop. Inherited wealth protected her from any economic storm. She carried within her a list of her favorite restaurants, favorite cities, and even favorite closets of clothes. Male suitors were many, never far behind. She had everything and did everything, as expected. Life's perfection lacked only one missing piece: doing what she really wanted. How to give up the proven for the unproven?

Sydney Hallison has a pocketful of answers! If the world suddenly became absent of pestering questions and perilous dilemmas she would die of agonizing atrophy. For each answer she presented to a searching soul, she awarded herself a gold star. "I am most excellent and special!" she'd often proclaim with a certain smile. Across the glorious globe only one person did she refuse to be there for: herself. Ukrainian bitch.

Sherry Hodges faked another orgasm on this cold winter's night. "You were just fantastic, honey!" She stayed home to pursue her dream of writing. Just imagine such a fantastical career! Once writing, new exciting worlds opened up shedding light in darkly held corners. Her marriage, her children's dreams, her parents' approval, her nosy friends - each and every one was presented in a disturbingly new way. Carefully, she made sure never to write an honest word, thus avoiding any chance of damaging conflict - and any chance of possible success.

The right honorable Senator Oscar Tibbs was the first elected black man from his state. Blessed with pleasing looks and engaging charm, he championed the ideals of the dead Martin Luther King. His campaign to be liked was a runaway success, role model and hero he be in the adoring eyes of his constituents. Yet never did he himself believe it true, trolling for prostitutes of degradation in homeless city nights. His campaign slogan: "We need only to believe to win!"

Lance Finster knew how to get the girls. And not just any girls, but fantasy girls of unearthly delight! He labored as a carpet cleaner on a lark but gathering envy was his true paycheck in life. In the tri-state area of his domain he knew of no other who could match his trophy case of ecstasy dream life. Yes, he could be anything he wanted to be - just so long as he didn't have to be anything.

Perry Heinsom hated the only job he could ever hold. He dreamed of a tropical island where only he would live. Once there he'd never lift a finger in anger again, never having to lie. In time, he planned to purchase his paradise even as his job consumed him, his health and his relationships. But he remained undaunted in the race to create his own personal empire - and then sit upon its throne in sickly silent splendor.

I Saw One Of Those "Must See" Films

There's an eternal naiveté about war and it's one that inhabits most its proponents who most claim to know its dangers. As all the world truly is a stage, those with war in their souls must sell that war and thusly turn a blind eye to the true reality of its futility and useless wreckage. That is why even after all this time we still hear (and trust) the chant, "War is hope! Peace is doom!" But there is no ultimate profit to the illusion.

America has a unique war fetish. One day we were walking along and saw a bully beating someone up. We stopped the bully and felt really good about ourselves. Then we saw someone who was thinking of being a bully and so we beat that person up too. Then we someone who looked like a bully to our eyes and so we beat him up too. Until finally, slowly, we became the bully - but in our minds are still doing the Lord's work. That's the illusion of war.

America, of course, is not unique in her self-deception and stupidity about war. Like any drug, the longer you take it the more it corrupts you until you become the very thing you're fighting. You have no choice but to become that to which you give all your energy. And that's how Israel took the "role of the Nazis" in her early 80's siege of Lebanon as described in the animated documentary "Waltz With Bashir".

It has been described as an anti-war film. It is not. It is a pro-truth film, one intent on fact finding. It is the truth that is anti-war. The film's director was a participant in the Lebanon siege but has suppressed his memories of it. Like James Clavell in "King Rat", he must visit the past in order to keep his future. He seeks out his comrades in arms, retracing the descent that led to the Sabra and Shatila massacre.

Here's an abridged Wiki on the event:

The Sabra and Shatila massacre took place in the Sabra and Shatila Palestinian refugee camps in Beirut, Lebanon between September 16 and September 18, 1982, during the Lebanese civil war. Palestinian and Lebanese civilians were massacred in the camps by Christian Lebanese Phalangists while the camp was surrounded by the Israel Defense Force. In that period of time, Israel was at war with the PLO in Lebanon. Israeli forces occupied Beirut, controlled the entrances to the refugee camps of Palestinians and controlled the entrance to the city. The exact number of victims is disputed, from 700–800 to 3,500 (depending on the source).

Israeli forces enabled the entrance of the Christian Phalangist militia to the refugee camps by firing illuminating flares over the camps. The Phalangists were enraged by the assasination of Lebanese Christian president-elect Bashir Gemayel. The forces were under the direct command of Elie Hobeika, who later became a long-serving Member of the Parliament of Lebanon and, in the 1990s, a Lebanese cabinet minister.

Lebanon or Aushwitz?

Janet Lee Stevens, an American journalist, later wrote to her husband, Dr. Franklin Lamb:

"I saw dead women in their houses with their skirts up to their waists and their legs spread apart; dozens of young men shot after being lined up against an alley wall; children with their throats slit, a pregnant woman with her stomach chopped open, her eyes still wide open, her blackened face silently screaming in horror; countless babies and toddlers who had been stabbed or ripped apart and who had been thrown into garbage piles."

In 1982, an independent commission chaired by Sean MacBride concluded that the Israeli authorities or forces were, directly or indirectly, responsible. The Israeli government established the Kahan Commission to investigate, and in early 1983 it found that Israeli military personnel were aware that a massacre was in progress without taking serious steps to stop it. Therefore it regarded Israel as having indirect responsibility. The commission held Ariel Sharon personally responsible for having disregarded the prospect of acts of bloodshed by the Phalangists against the population of the refugee camps and not preventing their entry.

Families lined up against the walls and shot in cold blood. Genocide deja vu. And the director was one of those shooting the flares into the murderous night of screams to enable the slaughter. All the more shocking when he reveals his ancestors were in Auschwitz, another place of genocide. With this he must make peace.

There are no Jews, no Christians, no Islamists, no atheists or agnostics, no blacks, no whites, no Germans, no Americans, no anything - it's sheer hogwash made up in our heads to make our wars seem justified. We are each merely a soul in need of love, nothing more, nothing less. But rare are those who believe that, because to do so means we kill for no reason.

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Apocalypse Now, And Then (Photo Journey Mind Trip)

We wander here day after day

I don't remember the Before Times, when things was all green. Wasn't even born. Like all the babies now I didn't get a name till I was five, showing I could live that long. My name is Whisper In The Wind. Getting that was my real birth. Before that I was just "Blonde Girl 12".

Even these few trees got us excited


We had to hack our way through


We felt something different about these trees...


...like they were warning us


But one still reached for the sky

We hear wild tales of the Before Times. But us young ones aren't so sure about them. Some say they had so much food they even threw it away. Imagine! No person could ever do such a thing. But no denying they also put so much poison in the air, land and water it killed off the planet. I wouldn't of thought anyone could ever do that either. But we live it every day.

It's like the land was angry here


Another day getting late as we wander the wastelands


We reached a thicket we thought was a dead end.
Some took it as a sign to go back.
Others said it was a test for going forward.

In the Before Times the world was ruled by witches and demons. The witches cast spells on their minds making them believe crazy stuff like if you throw away your food that means you have enough to never run out. And if anyone didn't believe like they was supposed to, the demons come to torture you and take your food away. What scary times those must have been.

We went through the thicket, to pass the test.
A road! We found a road!


Our hearts were beating. What ruins might we find?


The path turned green, even the sun got shinier.
Anything green makes us happy.
The thicket was a test after all.

All we do is wander, no place to go. In the cities they hide in the old structures. But if you sleep they take the shoes off your feet. So we stick to the country to find a place that's not been found. I was made leader of our group but I have no way to guide. I whisper here in my journal but who will ever read it?

Them birds was watching us but we
was glad just to see animal life.


Then the trees cleared away and we saw this.
We all stopped, looking to each other.
Look at the stumps. Is the water poison?


Sure looked dead up close

Used to be even the seasons was different. The Old Ones messed with the forces of Nature and wrecked even the weather! We wait for rain that never comes and the soil is all drained to where food won't grow anymore. I'm really thinking they never knew how good they had it. When their magic liquids ran out that made the whole world move in hours and not days, they just starved to death before any food could get to them anyway.

We went around the edges hoping to find more


The rocks got bigger, then we started seeing trees - green trees!


So much water! Have we found a Staying Place??

We came across a big water pond. I'm sitting under a table shelter looking out. Feel like I'm sitting in the past, ghosts all around me. But it's quiet here. I wonder how many of us humans are left. My group is together but lonely. Sometimes someone hums a song passed down from the Old Days and I wonder why they died, it's so beautiful. I'm crying now.

I don't ever want to leave this spot


The Old Ones came here to play. Did they ever think
people like us would use them for shelter?


I have a bad feeling. Don't know why.

A new way is coming out, none of the old ways can stay. Can we survive long enough to see its end? Nature puts the world back in order. Voices of mistrust hide from it and die off. But us, we're learning to trust our nature and know the reality of love. I feel if I didn't have to worry about food I could explode with all the life building in me. Others are feeling the same. We are ready to live as one!

The trees melted into sand. I remembered hearing stories...


...something about dimensions overlapping


I was being pulled forward, to an answer in the wind


I felt like we were sliding, slipping into distortion

The world was used up, tore apart and shattered like glass. The spells had them thinking they was civilized people, makers of life, not death. But all they left us was tears. Too late they find out the lie of the witches' spells. Like always when times got bad people went to the witches for answers. One day they couldn't keep their masks on anymore and people found out everything was gone forever. The witches and demons just laughed at people falling for their tricks.

Around the corner I find the water's source


Dark waters...


I look back to see if the sun is still there.
How did the waters up ahead get so dark??


I keep going, driven, pushed along.
Things look different back here.
Is this one of those dimension portals?


The view is so distorted...

The spells are fading, our eyes opening wide. We walk out of the fog at last. I wish we hadn't had to go through all the hells we have. Love was waiting on us all along. War has left my heart, I surrender to peace, let that take me where it will. Our dreams of life wash us clean. In the meantime, we will wander and forage, living as one, adding others as we go along. It's all I've ever known.

At last, the sun! But the colors are wrong...


I look back in horror. I did pass through a portal! What kind of world have I entered?


The sun fades and the colors change


In ancient Mordor do I walk


How can anything survive in a place so barren?


I try to run back to the sun but the
world tilts, throwing me backward.


Then the sun went black. I screamed, but it
was as a whisper in the wind.


I'm trapped in the anti-world, a land mine left by the Old Ones.
How long must we pay for their debts? Is life still possible?

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