Portrait of the Artist as an Alarmist

There are certain, um, advantages to working on a cruise ship. Namely, the scenery. Heart pounding, rip-roaring scenery to leave you tearing the walls out in frustration. And since my job as porter is boring and rote, this kind of distraction is especially appealing to me. And then there's times like this, when the thunderbolt strikes. "Dear God, sweet Jesus! Now there's a girl who can save a soul!" Only, of course, she didn't.

I did, however, scurry down the employee stairwell mentally screaming, "Fire down below!" I was feeling a great and urgent need to, uh, pay homage to her. Her delectable lines spoke of a bliss unobtainable but that changed not my needs. Hurrying down the steps I nearly stumbled into a truly ignominious death but I finally reached my most secret of all spots in the bowels of the ship - outcasts instinctively find the places where no one else wants to tread.

Instantly I noticed something wrong when I heard rhythmic banging noises nearby but I dismissed both them and my inner voice, having more pressing interests at hand. But disturbing thoughts kept seeping through as I slowly considered the very wrongness of those sounds. "Not now, you fuckers, OK? Dear God, she was hot!" Finally, the noises got to me so badly I had to pull out of my reverie to see what's what. "Something is seriously wrong here."

The bowels of the ship are deep and sweaty, a dark forest unto themselves. They don't invite visitors so those who do come must have one helluva reason - Lord knows I did. I wasn't expecting to find anyone with a more lowly motivation than mine but what I saw shocked even me: six portly men in the finest of suits employing pick axes, drills and mallets attempting to hack a hole in the hull.

"What in the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded to know.

My voice startled them like a thunderbolt, freezing them in place with a guilty child's look of fear on their faces. I put my hands on my hips, showing them I wasn't going to back down, but after a moment's inspection they resumed their efforts as if I wasn't even there. But I was not to be swayed.

"Hey! I'm talking here!"

Evil's mouthpiece blows smoke

"Stop your racket! We're trying to have fun tearing this apart!" dismissed the one with a cigar, whose thoughts eerily echoed mine from moments before.

"Fun? Fun? You're going to sink the whole ship! What am I missing here? Somebody here is clearly insane!"

"And clearly that's you," retorted cigar man without missing a beat - apparently the only one with a voice.

"Lookit! You fuckers are insane! You don't even care if you sink yourselves along with everyone else!"

"Nah, we'll be fine. We always are."

He set his head back down, intent on his work, the conversation closed.

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that! I'm telling everybody up top what you're doing!"

It bothered me no one seemed bothered by my threat. Of course, I would have the unenviable task of explaining why I was down there to begin with. And for some reason, I too found my threat curiously empty. But dammit, I'm going to make people listen to me if it's the last thing I do!

Stomping back up the stairs I auditioned various excuses for my trip to the bowels but none passed muster. Finally, I came up with: "I heard a noise and went to investigate" - as if I was pulled in! Most excellent. I spent the remaining time up the stairwell trying to convince myself of my fake story. Warily (and wearily) I noted that I actually spend a lot of time doing that...

Spotting a steward, I breathlessly informed him of what I saw - yet he remained stone-faced and unmoving throughout.

"What the hell do you know? Get back to work!"

"Hey, dill, I saw what I saw! Do you really want to compare IQs with me, pal? I guarantee you you'll come up short."

"It's obvious the only thing coming up short is you. What business had you in the bowels? The only way to hear anything in the bowels is to be there in the first place."

Clever me was busted. Unable to provide an adequate explanation, I took another tack and called the bridge. The Captain was intrigued by my story, wanting to know more. It was obvious now I needed to deal with a person of true intelligence if I was going to get anywhere. But upon seeing me, the Captain turned away.

Kiss your Love Boat goodbye!

"I'm sorry. I thought I was dealing with a serious person."

Et tu, mon capitan? "I am a serious person. Dead fucking serious. Do you want to be known as the Captain who let his ship sink because he wouldn't listen to a truthful warning?"

"No, nor do I want to be known as the Captain who let his time be wasted on frivolities - which is easy to see that you allow yourself to do!"

I stormed off the bridge frustrated and confused. It was as if everyone knew of my empty life and summarily dismissed me out of hand. But how could they know? Do people with lives somehow have this magic insight? Or are there security cameras revealing my dirty deeds? Nothing makes sense! But it's happening, I can't deny that. I could go stark raving mad trying to figure this out.

Not my usual compadres

I would have to appeal to the passengers directly. Since I wasn't getting any satisfaction with a rational approach maybe I needed to add a dramatic flair to get my story across. If only I could find the right words. Why is this so freaking hard??

"Attention all! The ship is in danger! Men in suits are hacking a hole in it as I speak. We must stop them before it's too late!"

But all I got were scoffing stones hurled at me. "You're in serious need of attention, aren't you? Find some other way to get your kicks and leave us alone. Keep your tomfoolery to yourself."

I don't get this. I really don't get this. I see the truth, I speak the truth - what fucking hell else am I supposed to do? Is there some secret language I need to learn? I'm going out of my freaking mind!!!

"What's wrong with you people? Do you want to die? Is that it? Because it's sure as hell is going to happen if you don't stop the sabotage. Listen to what I'm saying, I'm not making this up!"

"Look, dweeb-head, you've got a serious credibility issue. And men in suits would never destroy us. It's losers in silly little porter's outfits you need to look out for!"

Drowning laughter forced my retreat. The only place left on the ship was the pool area, but I couldn't return to the scene of the original crime could I? But I had to.

This is bigger than me or any of my failings. Think logically. Those women don't know of my lusting heart, and if they'll listen to me that's all that matters. I do feel massively guilty, however, about going back there knowing my usual ulterior motives. Hard as it may be, I must put all that aside and ignore the hot legs bronzing in the sun - and save this ship. I boldly stepped before their bodies.

Must...concentrate...on...message

"Ladies, I have something important to tell you-"

A communal screaming erupted, women covering themselves in towels and fleeing as if their lives were in danger. Shell-shocked me watched until the final chaise lounge was abandoned and I lost all hope. I collapsed onto a defeated chair, ready to slip into a mental coma.

What a way to die. God is looking down and shaking his head. Who does He think less of, I wonder. Sure I'm a creep, I get that. But that's all anyone else focuses in on! Fuck, man - I see the truth, I speak the truth - simple as that. What's going on here? If they think I'm so stupid, why don't they check out what I'm saying and see if I'm wrong? Judge me by that!

I give up...I'm not saying another word...I have to die on this ship in the most humiliating way possible...knowing it's going to happen and can't do a goddam thing about it...thanks God! I hope you're fucking happy!!!!!

Then, through the slits of my comatose eyes, I saw two teenage boys pass by, snickering and pointing towards me.

"Dude! You got your dick out!"

_____________________________________________

---

Who wants to make that first mistake?

A Treatise On Trust

You're not to be trusted.

Go ahead. Ask anyone if you should eat for free like a kitten. Trust is a commodity forever undeserved and impossible to earn. Why? Because you can't be trusted! (Circular logic is always the best!) Or, at least, we have deemed that to be a truism.

But I noticed a funny thing about those who harp on man's "inevitable" treachery: it's always done by those who betray trust themselves. They want perversion accepted as fact: that the nature of man is evil and any society must be built upon that precept. And that is what we've done, but as I look around me the world is dying though we honor this "truth". Wassup wit dat?

These traitors among us claim to speak with insight and understanding. "It is the naive, the blind and the fatally foolish who paint man as anything but evil. After all, look at our deeds throughout history and who can say differently. We crucified our savior for God's sake! What more proof does one need?" These unholy priests make such assertions with high authority and brook no disagreement. But their fury comes from the fear of being unmasked, not from conviction. To translate their words: "I'm an evil loser and I can't stand it if anyone does better than me!"

But we all know the truth, no matter how well hidden or dedicated we are to pretending otherwise. There's supposed safety in numbers and most people smarmily assert distrust is a loathsome but necessary pillar of any society - even if it results in ultimate destruction. But the irony of Nature is we all have to trust, there's no way around it. Survival is a group effort. So you're gonna trust *something*. So we've put our trust in distrust.

Looking for the unemployed

Blackmail is the god of a distrustful society. Its principle states that no human deserves to live by virtue of being born, he must be made to do good. One must earn food, water, shelter, medical care, clothing and every other item under the sun. It is assumed all babies are born evil, for even their requirements are sold, not given. There's no trust in blackmail - but that's why we trust it!

"Without requiring money, no one will work!" Most of us have been brainwashed into believing that, that without blackmail society will collapse - even though it's collapsing anyway! But what can one say about the integrity of a system that says "you must work to live" and then denies a person the right to work? It says that is not a system about life, but of ownership and slavery, claiming the right to determine life and death, like a godless religion.

Yes, it is true, most of us don't have much integrity, it's why we allow this insanity to continue. The broke, the starving, the de facto slaves of working poor will cry out against the system but would they if they had millions? It's all about buying souls, taking the bribe and saying, "Yes, there are injustices but things are good for me." Most of us cannot rise above that but even that is not fatal as human weakness is to be expected. It's the fact we don't recognize our human weaknesses that's the Achilles heel.

Because we've made a religion of our system, questioning it is verboten. "People who work are good, people who don't are bad." The conversation begins and ends there for blind adherents to our religion. Listen to those forced out of work and hear the guilt they express. The guilt doesn't come from being unemployed - as they often allege - but from believing in the first place in the lies of a system that now betrays them. Leaves one feeling rather foolish.

The truth is we have no choice but to trust one another. No matter how vile thy neighbor, your job is to nurture trust. Why? Because it's every person's job to be trustworthy. There's no system possible that can ultimately make up for a perfidious people. So the goal is to give the best chance possible, to grant life to every person regardless, that even if life is ultimately rejected, at least the chance was given to make things work. Way things stand now, there is no hope despite all the pretentious chest beating one hears from insanity's enablers.

Don't shoot!

To the brainwashed and/or corrupt mind, the height of insanity is to freely hand out the rudiments of survival with no questions asked. "You can't just grow food and give it out. No! Never! Never!" But the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing expecting a different result. Clearly what we're doing now has no hope and is reaching the point of irreversible suffering yet we cling to the false dictum of "There is no other way!" But that oath applies only to trusting.

It doesn't take a prophet to use logic, but Moses saw this coming:

When such a person hears the words of this oath, he invokes a blessing on himself and therefore thinks, "I will be safe, even though I persist in going my own way." This will bring disaster on the watered land as well as the dry.

But what the hell. I guess everyone needs a plan, huh? Maybe I'm underselling starvation.

Every life is a cry for love. The need for love will rule for all eternity, determining the fate of every individual. Love is like water, choose it and live, reject it and die. There is no god with a ledger of judgement determining our fates. We write our own names in the Book of Life. So yes, you can say you don't need love - but you will die just the same. Time bears this out every day and there will come a time when all those who reject life die by their own hand. You were expecting something different?

Still don't believe in trust? Then re-read this post and substitute "love" for the word "trust".

A world based on this would be horrific!

A Conversation Between Two Obama Supporters

President Obama was going for his very first swim. But before diving into the cold, murky waters, he delivered a fantastic speech on the rigors of swimming. He spoke of how there's a right way and a wrong way to do it, he cautioned of the dangers yet also spoke of the rewards of doing it correctly. Afterwards, by golly, I was all fired up to see him swim. "This is going to be good!"

Splashing in with such fine words in his fine suit evoked memories of dreams past, dreams we had butchered but were now somehow miraculously alive again! There is no price to destroying one's heritage after all. No need for karma, no need to make amends. It's all good. I can vote for that!

Standing next to me on the pier was a man whose hands were raw from clapping. Fearing for his health I suggested he might want to give his hands a break. But he resisted.

"I'm much too excited to stop clapping! And he needs all the support he can get. You should be clapping too!"

"I did clap but there's a point to where it becomes mindless. Do you really think that helps when it hurts yourself?"

"Oh yes, indeed! It's the finest support! What, do you want to go back to a President that can't swim? We must get behind this one or face doom!"

"I didn't know that was an either/or proposition."

"Absolutely it is! Just look how turbulent those waters are! He needs all the support he can get!"

"I can see the waves perfectly well but it doesn't look like he's swimming like he should be."

"I don't see you clapping! Clap and he'll swim better! Besides, I think he's doing great!"

"Looks like his leg is cramping to me. He's not using the form he said he would. If he did, he'd be doing much better."


"Give him time! He's still learning to swim! He'll swim right later, trust me!"

"From the looks of your hands, though, you must be in a lot of pain."

"Pain? Never! I feel nothing but elation! Nothing makes me feel better than knowing we've elected Jesus and everything's going to be just peachy now. Makes me damn proud! Those whackos before just thought they elected Jesus, but now we really have!"

"But wouldn't Jesus know how to swim right?"

"Even Jesus needed time to learn. Just you wait and see, doesn't matter how long it takes, he'll swim right. That's why I have faith!"

"Oh, look, his other leg is cramping. I'm not so sure your faith is based in reality. In fact, I'm pretty tired of non-reality based faith. I think somebody needs to help him out and pull him back in before he sinks."

"Nonsense! Look how far he's gotten already! Yards and yards he's gained."

"But he has miles to go before he sleeps."

"That's why I'm clapping! You should be too!"

"The waves seem to be knocking him harder. He's not able to stand up to them."

"That's all part of his plan! Look how overconfident those waves are, thinking they're winning. The President is a genius!"

"He's either a genius or drowning. I say he's drowning and needs someone to tell him he's swimming all wrong."

"What a horrible thought! Why think such a thing? I'm a believer through and through. Good times are coming!"

"I want good times too. That's why I say he's drowning, so we can help him. Actual support comes only with honoring the truth. Didn't you see Shrillary's campaign?"

"But the truth is he's doing fine!"


It was at that exact moment the President drown, causing me to look sideways at the Clapper and then shaking my head. "Some people have to see death before admitting anything is wrong. Do you still feel good now?"

But the Clapper was in a huff. "This wouldn't have happened had you been clapping!" And he drooped away, cursing me for his pain filled hands and the wasting of his clapping.

But I ask you, who was his true supporter?

----------------------------

What's Harry listening to now?

Too many lovers in one lifetime ain't good for you

Haiku Quintet: Free Iran

[My unworthy musings on our brothers and sisters in Iran]
--------


Volcano erupts,
Earth's forces vainly repressed,
Hot lava flows free.


----------


Sleeping on bubbles,
Tempting fate's holy fortune,
Anxiety's lair.


---------


Petals flow downstream,
Foamy rapids smash the rock,
Deep, eternal sea.


----------


Ecstasy of taste!
Youth hunger for freedom's fruit
Sans burka condom.


----------


Leaf boxes the wind,
Like fool stomping tiger's tail
Expecting no ire.

He's A Scam Obama-Man

[To the tune of "Nowhere Man"]



He's a scam Obama-Man
Pretty speeches in his hand
Thinking he's a goodly man
Like Kennedy.

When he speaks hope's point of view,
That's the change that he'll eschew,
Isn't he a twit for you and me?
Obama-Man, Stop twistin',
On your hopes you're pissin',
Obama-Man, Won't you please just make a stand?




To bankers, kind as he can be,
From workers' hands to Wall Street thieves,
Obama-Man, why appease them at all?
Obama-Man, please hurry,
Of your pose, you worry,
But we want you to slap down the greedy man's hand!




Ending wars, you said you'd do,
While making plans for fighting two,
Acting just like a GWB,
Obama-Man, Stop killin',
You can leave, if you're willin',
Obama-Man, Is there a hope you'll lead our land?




He's a scam Obama-Man
Pretty speeches in his hand
Thinking he's a goodly man
Like Kennedy.

Making all his secret plans
For nobody.

Making talk is bringing hope
For NOBODY.

Pictures are from politicalhumor.about.com

The Crime of the Ancient Mariner

"Oh, hell. What does this guy want?"

I am the Ancient Mariner
Of life beyond the sea;
Who stops the unemployed
To hear my homeless plea.

Painted faces, pasted smiles
Adorned by mighty will;
But helpless is the pull
When I dare to speak the ill.

- The Mariner speaks of a new land found, none like all in history.

A breaking of king's yoke
My country 'tis of thee;
We rejoiced the birth of this
Gleaming nation of the free.

Ten thousand years in finding,
Sailing through the freedom door;
The world she fell behind
As our freedoms gave us more.
The beacon's hope shining
As they flocked unto our shore.

For every man be king,
The owner of a castle!
No life more worthy be
By virtue of mere tassel.

- When the world went to war, the New Land brought the forces of Light.

But though we blazed the trail,
We Mariners of Light;
Jackboots stormed tyranny,
From east a godless fight.

Siren call of darkness sways
From what you wish to be,
Had we not the guiding light,
'Tis lost path to victory;
Yet we soared into the sky,
Sweet Bird of Liberty!

Dear listener beats his chest
Claims the mastery I tell;
But speak he his heritage
Upon finishing my spell?

- But the New Land held a dark side, threatening its light.

Driving winds of destiny
Blew both ill and good;
T'was butchering of "foreigners"
Squatting in "our" woods.

A-taking, taking, taking
We orgied as our gods;
Feasting on our soils
Like mindless arthropods.

Possessed, the maddening mind
Forsaking all tomorrows;
In heated rush to grab today
Before the coming sorrows.

Greed was here, greed was there,
Greed was all around;
It starved and stabbed, and slew the soul,
Unleashing Hell's own hound!

- The light fades when jailing the soul.

Hope flew in thoughts of joy
Of a remembered love:
Sweet Bird of Liberty,
Our one and precious dove!

"Free us from our jail of greed,
"As done in times before!"
But I called a worth not my own:
"Yet I'm a Holy Whore!"

The Mariner fears the path of ultimate liberty.

With serendipity shot
Fearful blind into the haze;
"God save us from liberty
"And the plague of changing ways!"
With light departed thusly
I was hated lo many days...

Moving with inertia's past
But no sweet bird to follow;
An emptying of our words
Lightless lives echo hollow.

Blindly bitter hand grapples
With loathing of the dark;
But minds of men be churning,
Foul deeds rising to the hark.

- Fidelity to the Light was not as widespread as believed.

Fiend thanks the loss of light
And plunders none will see;
'Tis no longer precious 'free',
"Give precious gold to me!"

The bitchest who gold piled
Slapped me on the back;
"The light must have blinded us,
"We see the wisdom of your act!"

Dear listener beats his chest
Denies unasked, sins I tell;
But speak he his heritage
Upon finishing my spell?

- The dark is declared a "necessary evil", and consumes the land.

Then freedom flounced upon the waves
Justice wheels rustly stop;
Crime the new profession,
Even grifting priest and cop!

But time removes all veils,
Forever nought unknown;
Comes when every cherry's picked
And our hungry mouths made known.

Tending golden mountains
Left forests seared with heat;
Gold flowing in our fountains
But not a bite to eat!

"How can dying babies wail
"When we surely be divine!"
When blaming eyes went seeking
They saw greed in only mine.

Ill favoured Bird of Liberty
Wrapped 'round my neck to choke;
A fitting fate for me, who thinks
"Life is but a joke."

- The Mariner is made to pay for their sins, but it doesn't stop the slide.

T'was a time of castle voids,
Kings sleeping in TARP tent;
A siphoning from the many
To a lucky one percent.


Fat and burly overlords -
Many lives costs his suit;
Clamp the ones once free
To slave in oily soot.

With leaving of the light,
Dark makes safe heartless ice;
To find a way to living
To each his own device;
Fates seized to hapless doom
By rolling sightless dice.

Overlords' scheming serpent
Slithers as favored pet;
Words steal stars from the night,
Not a single lie is vet.

Dear listener beats his chest,
Claims his trueness makes it swell;
But speak he his heritage
Upon finishing my spell?

- The Mariner is the living dead, prays mightily for a bullet through his head. But if he's alive there must still be life yet to be.

In mocking torment my eyelids shut
Willing a world unwounded ere open;
Crumpled low as hell's damned orphan
This woeful wizard sinks in solo mopin';
No more carefree laughter, silence rules the day,
For deeds done be undone I was hopeless hopin'.

In my mind's eye, skies light anew,
In my dreamer's heart, harmony unspoken;
The flower's tears fill desert cracks,
Sweet Bird of Liberty, soars with wings unbroken!

But are these not but dreams of fancy?
Of the free bird, I am slayer;
Tease me not this reachless romance
Heaven's not the realist's prayer.

Yet what lays beyond Heaven's gate?
But masturbating hate;
Must I stay one my enemies date?
The living heart shares true love's fate.

- The Mariner weds his dreams of life, love is his only friend.

I dreamed alone but dream I did,
'Tis an opposite world it seems!
And yes I see it drowns us all
In the wreck of despairing schemes;
But mine's no choosing choice,
A slayer's chance rests in his dreams.

In this fallen hour, with heavy neck bent,
Heavenly Voices truly spoke to me:
"Matters not if saintly soul or if Judas meant,
"One thing I can tell you is you've got to be free."


Wondrous and magical, the free bird taking flight!
Releasing my breath from man's lawless yoke;
Shiny wings disappear as specks into the sun,
Betrothed stand I to words the Voices spoke.

- As if having seen another planet, the Mariner must speak of the beauty he now knows.

Forever bound am I by the telling of this tale,
Rebirthed soul, impossibly slayed;
Witnessing to ears deaf of stone
And eyes of obsidian jade;
Raging rage from unlocked cells
(For no Nature's law keeps them stayed!)
The finality asking of ev'ry life:
Where's the love that ye has made?

Incarnate bodies born of earth,
Who's not spared to bleed?
Eternal soul's reality:
From bodies doubtless freed;
Will refusing eyes upon the sun
Stop sky's galloping steed?
Salvation's blessing remains the same:
Love is all we need.

"He prayeth best, who loveth best
"All things both great and small;
"For the dear God who loveth us,
"He made and loveth all."

Dear listener beats his chest,
"The world felled when I fell!"
Speaking he his heritage
When lives a living hell.

_________________________________




People keep on learnin'
Soldiers keep on warrin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long!

Powers keep on lyin'
While your people keep on dyin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long!

I'm so darn glad He let me try it again
Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin
I'm so glad that I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin'
Till I reach the highest ground

Teachers keep on teachin'
Preachers keep on preachin'
World keep on turnin'
Cause it won't be too long
Oh no!

Lovers keep on lovin'
Believers keep on believin'
Sleepers just stop sleepin'
Cause it won't be too long
Oh no!

I'm so glad that He let me try it again
Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin
I'm so glad that I know more than I knew then
Gonna keep on tryin'
Till I reach my highest ground...whew!
Till I reach my highest ground
No one's gonna bring me down
Oh no
Till I reach my highest ground
Dont you let nobody bring you down (theyll sho nuff try)
God is gonna show you higher ground
He's the only friend you have around

Machiavelli Was A Loser

No way I trust that face

I don't know much about Machiavelli but I do know about being Machiavellian, a term which I always associated with someone who is a manipulator. And a manipulator is a loser. Manipulation is the coward's domain, it's a substitute for honest communication. Problem is, there is no substitute for honest communication. Manipulation leaves you in the dark in the end.

A large part of my manipulative behavior is borderline unconscious and definitely highly ingrained as a way of life - a sad way of life. I'll pretend to not know the feelings I'm engendering in you - and you will swear there's no way I can know, that I'm a completely oblivious soul. From the corner of my eye, I observe you and your reaction. I can't imagine anyone liking me, but you - you who claim the right to the world - you should be able to give me honest feedback, no?

But what I usually see is you over there squirming, agonizing on how you're going to "spare" me, or you might come up with something really inventive as an out - like arranging an "urgent" phone call five minutes into a blind date. (Yes, I've been beeped on before, "Gotta go!") So I'm always interested in the tact you might take with me. Will you get all red-faced and angry, telling me off and setting me straight? Or will you sit in repressed silence, writing me off as a lost cause?

Debby burned me as a manipulator when I blatantly tested her just to see how she'd react. She'd shrug her shoulders and say, "It's your life", leaving me standing there feeling like an idiot. I was, of course. Whether she did that out of guilelessness or from seeing right through me I'll never know. It may have been a combination of both. In those types of clumsy attempts, I think she saw that as my way of trying to communicate. She understood my overwhelming fear of her.

Manipulators are like spies

But I also got her to get in my face, flummoxed by my appeal to "meet her in the park" after work. Did I really want to do that? Well, yes and no. Certainly, there was nothing on God's green earth I wanted more than to spend time with Debby. It was truly Heaven on earth. But had it happened it would have felt impossibly awkward and I probably would have sabotaged the entire situation. The point I really wanted to get out was that there was this great divide between me and her, that no matter our feelings, we could never be anything - at all. Ever.

She blew up later, informing me "we are not friends" (a fucking understatement!), but I think she was surprised by my non-reaction. I had manipulated her into saying that, I was expecting her to say that and I wanted to see if she would say anything. I was only semi-conscious of my doing this, as I was awash in emotion and out of control whenever I got near her. To me, Debby was a force of nature I could never conquer. (To be clear, feelings did exist between us and she admitted that)

I am still that same person today. You may think I might die if you tell me straight out how you feel. I won't. And whether I'm on the up and up or not, I take honesty as a sign of the ultimate respect. But know that, yes, I want to know if you're being level with me, as I look at you from the corner of my eye, knowing what you want to say and waiting and wondering how much you will say. It's the coward's way out, I know.

(Here's how to frustrate manipulators: always take them at face value)

In the end, always alone

___________________________________

Me & Thee

I've been crying the past two days now. I had to leave Open Salon. I knew I had to either grow or leave and of course there's no way for me to grow. I'm suddenly going to become a normal person after all these years? No, I had to fake it as I always do and the guilt of it wore on me as I had grown somewhat close to one person in particular. Then I remembered my freak life and the wrongness of it and the ridiculousness of me masturbating with one hand and lambasting the world's idiocy with the other.

Immediately upon leaving, the pains returned to my stomach. Somehow I had fooled myself into thinking I was one of "them" because I had fooled them into thinking I was one of them or they assumed that on their own. These people with wives and lives...just so far away from me. Who can even comprehend such a thing?

Imagine if no one had any idea what OJ did and people suddenly saw him start to withdraw - he wouldn't be the "same person" anymore - and no one would know why. Nor could he tell them. No one knows the full extant of the nightmare of my life. It far exceeds what anyone suspects. But the truth will out and already some saw me as the fraud I am at OS, so I decided to light out of there before they got the posse on me.

Or rather, apathy took over.

I feel horrible about doing it. Maybe I made the wrong choice...again. But I am a criminal and I guess in the end, there are no right choices for that. My words are empty and my gestures hollow. I'm merely shadow dancing, pretending to live. What's the endgame to this?

The Bridge Builder

"The world" he mused, "has been given over to evil."

A lonely figure sitting crumpled on the mountain's edge. Was he contemplating jumping off? To splash into the cold waters never to be seen again? What did he see through his faraway eyes? Or had he simply stopped seeing anything at all?

His was a body without dreams. The sleet, the snow, the sun poured down upon him and yet move he not. Why move when there's nothing to do? Why be when there's nothing to be? He'd done well, he'd been somebody and all it had gotten him was...here. The stars of the night his only friends, the moon his mute companion. The bridge builder had a new profession now:

"I've come watch the paintings of God in the sky."

But the world cried out to him yet. Desperate souls see only their desperation and anxious pleas besieged his ears.

"Come, Bridge Builder! The Old Woman needs to pass the gorge to get her medicine. Her pain knows no end!"

"Then pain becomes her," explained the one who built no more.

The reply never changed. As each tale of woe was laid before him, the bridge builder sat unmoved. When one constructs one's fate, what is left to do but live it? His beseechers sought to escape the fate they created. They wished to drink from the cup of death and find no remorse in it. But there must be remorse for such a thing or life has no meaning.


For twenty years, they had pushed the bridge builder until finally the Tipping Point had been reached. Maybe that had been the goal all along. For each bridge he created, wars of souls came to consume it, leaving rubble for art. "Our expressions cannot be denied!" claimed the destroyers. "The world must serve war or none can be safe." And thus the world was made safe for war, but not for bridges.

The bridge builder stretched out his hands in exasperation. "Which do you wish to serve? War or bridges?" Each time the answer was the same: bridges. So build them he did. With art he would overcome war, making each one more beautiful than the last, more refined, more boldly reaching out for life - and more beloved. But for the war machine, the greater the beauty, the greater the glee in its destruction. To see the sad faces of the townspeople cut off from hope gave heart to the warriors, fools who'd already cut hope from their living minds.


Lobotomized soldier marches angrily in comforting lockstep, knowing his comrades share the same tears. In burning cities and rubbled bridges manifest the nightmares of these doomed souls. In their looking-glass world, ruin meant life and life meant ruin. "Our food is fear and blood our water. Leave no bridge standing and let all things serve war." But the bridge builder knew only his art. "I was put here to build bridges, so build them I will. How do these destroyers expect to live??"

His bridges lived and breathed, born as children of his imagination. But how can one give birth only to hand the baby over to the executioner? Despair's poison pen pierced his heart, laughing at the futility of his efforts. The bridge builder looked to the sky, "What matter Heaven when it's hell on earth?" Each subsequent death of his children chipped his heart till none was left. So he settled on the edge of mountain cliff to stare at "God's paintings in the skies", the one thing the foul fingers of man could not stain.


The forces of Yin and Yang balanced in contention in the crumpled figure overlooking nature's beauty. The desire to build equated the desire to avoid pain. His hands were stilled, handcuffing the power of life within them. But it's true, where there's life there's hope. A young girl knowing nothing of the bridge builder's life or the ways of the world finally brought a question of healing: "Hey, mister, are you OK? Can I do anything?"

"No, I'm not OK. And no one can change the world. There's no point to love destroyed."

"Can I love you anyway?" she hoped.


Yin and Yang snapped and the wheels of life turned once more. For seven days and seven nights the bridge builder cried streaming tears as dreams of life breathed into him. The bridges were not his to despair, he had not authored their design, he'd simply been reading blueprints from God. Let the bridge's Author deal with its destroyers. Be happy to be the Author's instrument of creation, to be the pen in God's hand. Who would not love such a thing?

"Yes," was the answer. "Yes you may love me. And I have more ideas than ever before. I'll make bridge builders of you all! Just wait till you see what it's like!"

News of the bridge builder's stirring rushed through the countryside like water bursting from a dam. Not only would new bridges be built, but a nation of bridge builders they would be! To new heights of living they'd soar, an everlasting change. But while the villagers rejoiced, it did not excuse their bad hearts and the evil men they put in charge of their villages. The village elders knew no end to their wailing dismay at the news they would no longer control the bridges and sent word to the mindless men of war.


A lone assassin was sent to do the job, giving the villagers an easy fish to fry, so all may point and say, "See? The blood is on his hands alone." The light of the bridge builder was extinguished, leaving the world a safe place for those who do deeds in the dark - until time comes when the darkness consumes them and they are no more.

CODA: Decades later, the land lay in ruins and the despair of no bridges warped into an acceptable insanity. A little girl asked, "Where have all the bridge builders gone?" A guilty silence answered her, except for the first little girl who was now a woman. "The answer to that is in our hearts."

___________________________________

This is for all the bridge builders we killed:







____________________________

U2 - Pride (In The Name Of Love)

Texas Tea, Black Gold and The End Of The Rainbow

Legend materializes into reality

Anyone who thinks you can't reach the pot of gold at end of the rainbow has never had his own gusher come in, spewing money and power into your pocket in unbelievable magnitude. Money may be the craven image of wood we worship, but oil is the power behind the throne. The orgasmic joy of an oil strike is unique in all the world. And unlike other religions, there is none who question oil worship. Oil is a god, and by authoring its finding, you too become a god.

A great book has recently been published on this subject, detailing the four great oil fortunes of Texas and the ramifications of uber wealth. Written by Brian Burrough, who - if you remember the merger-mania of the 80's - also wrote "Barbarians At The Gate" regarding the RJR/Nabisco takeover battle, the biggest ever at the time. He's back now with "The Big Rich", detailing the rise and fall Texas' greatest fortunes. It's fascinating reading and one can't have a true understanding of the political mindset of today without realizing the role oil has played in this country.

To quote the jacket:

Known in their day as the Big Four, Roy Cullen, H.L. Hunt, Clint Murchison, and Sid Richardson were all from modest backgrounds, and all became patriarchs of the richest and most influential oil families in Texas - the states' equivalent of royalty. Along with their peers, they shifted wealth and power in America both south and west, largely bankrolling the rise of modern conservatism, and sending three of their states [worthless] native sons to the White House. As a class they became known as the Big Rich, and together they created a new legend in America - the swaggering Texas oil tycoon who owns private islands, sprawling ranches, and perhaps a football team or two, and mingles with presidents and Hollywood stars.

Just not the same on a Honda

I grew up in an oil town, a place where a chosen few of my peers had careers mapped out for them consisting of merely endorsing royalty checks for life. It was a place where sprawling ranches still represented sprawling power and tales of extravagance and debauchery continue to this day (just ask about my two very hot classmates who fucked the oil tycoon like crazy in exchange for high dollar gifts - until his wife found out and she took control of his company). Oil money, you see, is the ultimate Free Ride and it intoxicates you here in Texas with a culture that's easy to deride, but once you have known the smell of unlimited power in your nostrils, you'll find that irresistible call within you as well. Oil is the Holy Grail of the secular world.

Oil is also the lifeblood of the world, pervading more products than you could ever guess and providing an energy flow that keeps our standard of living propped up. Oil worship runs far deeper than most suspect. This from "Life After the Oil Crash"

"Are all forms of modern technology actually petroleum products?"

Yes.

It's not just transportation and agriculture that are entirely dependent on abundant, cheap oil. Modern medicine, water distribution, and national defense are each entirely powered by oil and petroleum derived chemicals.

In addition to transportation, food, water, and modern medicine, mass quantities of oil are required for all plastics, all computers and all high-tech devices. Some specific examples may help illustrate the degree to which our technological base is dependent on fossil fuels.

It's like being reborn into a new religion

They go on to cite a few examples but really they just scratch the surface. Our dependency on oil has seeped in silently into so many aspects of our everyday life that only when catastrophe strikes will we realize its full extant. But oil worship is just too darn fun! My high school years were during an oil boom. Rust Belt refugees flocked to the Panhandle to earn massive paychecks as roughnecks, rents went sky high and businesses were going like gangbusters. With all the free money flowing around, the urge to join in and get your share drove some to the limits of frustration. Thus was born "white oil".

While Oil is the nickname given to the condensate that forms in the pipes when pumping natural gas wells. The rules for spacing on gas wells is one every 64 acres. Oil well minimum spacing is much closer because the pockets are not near as large, something like every 4 acres. So what do you do if your neighbor finds natural gas and you want in on it but can't due to the spacing requirements? You drill anyway! Only you collect the condensate from the pipes and call it "oil" - thus you have an oil well, allowing you to drill right next to your neighbor's gas well. Eventually a ruling came down that disallowed such practices and the money had to be (begrudgingly) returned. A few years later, this was a common bumper sticker in my home town:

It's a visceral experience as the sun sets after a long, grueling day on an oil rig. To an outsider, your oily hands and sooty clothing are signs of a loathsome living, but to you and to those who know, you wear the uniform of birthing, bearing the labor pains that lets energy rush into our world. Each person seeks to be part of a greater cause and when standing at the entry port of the oil flow - running from well to refinery to plastics to the gasoline in the car you drive home - you feel deep in the heart of a living, breathing organism whose tentacles stretch into the four corners of the world. You leave the day dog tired but with a current of excitement knowing the running of the world depends on the labors of those like you.

At the other end of spectrum, we find that yes, success does spoil Rock Hunter. The same driving lust that brought bonanzas to the Big Rich afterwards ate them up. For while the oil god can bring a lifestyle unimaginable, it does not bring life itself. The Big Rich were the originators of the politics of hate - but of course that only reflected their own self-hatred. As they fruitlessly tried to fill the voids the oil god could not fill with toys and temptations, the more they rotted and frittered away their fortunes. Life is hell when you try to make your own self be the greater good.

This dream will die

For many, to kill the idea of a free ride in life is to kill the hope in life. The reality is just the opposite, the exhilaration of true meaning cannot be matched. But if this is unknown in one's life, one does not believe in it (not without true faith anyway). But our oil worship is setting us and children up for a fall. More from "Life After the Oil Crash":

Civilization as we know it is coming to an end soon. This is not the wacky proclamation of a doomsday cult, apocalypse bible prophecy sect, or conspiracy theory society. Rather, it is the scientific conclusion of the best paid, most widely-respected geologists, physicists, bankers, and investors in the world. These are rational, professional, conservative individuals who are absolutely terrified by a phenomenon known as global "Peak Oil."

The glib lie we tell ourselves is "We'll think of something. We're too smart to let something like that happen." Those who say this ascribe to themselves a false sense of faith in mankind and optimism that is not grounded in reality. We got a small taste of $4 a gallon gas and the pain was unbearable, but it's only a matter of time before the price is double that. That's the seduction of a false god: it lures you in with a free ride at the beginning, but now in the end stages the pain grows deeper and deeper depending on how long you wait to end the insanity.

Maybe we think we're proving something living this, shortsighted and destructive. "If I can live well like this I can live well forever." Well, it's true we're proving something - we're proving what our values are.

___________________________

Look, it's an ink well!

Do You REALLY Want To Write Your Congressman?

I know this is anecdotal and could be rife with embellishment to make it juicier but to be frank, that's something I try to never do. If the facts can't speak for themselves then there's no story. But the facts in this story are all dependent on me and the person who told it to me. So you can scoff and rant hysterically all you want - and I will consider that a reflection on you, not moi.

That's the funny thing about those with closed eyes, they never know when they're in front of a mirror describing themselves.

Sure we can - and pollute it too!

I had to see Doctor K today, who I've been going to for years. I don't trust conservatives in any profession - why trust an admitted liar? So I try to surround me best I can with those who seek the truth with a liberal and open mind. If ya ain't got that, ya ain't got nothin'. So I was rather surprised on my previous visit when Dr. K told me of her planned attendance at one of the infamous "tea parties" here in Dallas. And grandstanding at said party would be [the anti-Christ 6th District Representative of Texas]. (She's recently married and I think it was more hubby's idea)

Doctor K has long railed against the notorious cement kilns of Midlothian, south of Dallas. They are the single greatest outside source of pollution in the DFW area and we've been threatened with draconian measures from the EPA for our non-compliance on air quality. But the solutions presented for this are aimed around cars and trucks - never the cement kilns. One proposal is to eliminate all DFW drive-throughs - no more banking or egg mcmuffins on the go. As always, the little guy takes it in the shorts.

Making the world a better place, one cancer at a time

The driving reason for the cement kilns' immunity is their guardian angel: [the anti-Christ 6th District Representative of Texas]. He has guarded like a pit bull the kiln's right to pollute, with mindless and vicious attacks on any who seek to restrict their profits. Check out this recent gem of a headline:

[anti-Christ]: We Shouldn’t Regulate CO2 Because 'It’s In Your Coca-Cola' And 'You Can’t Regulate God'

That's the thing about conservatives, they always refer to themselves as God. Wonder how God feels about that? So despite the environmental damage the kilns cause or the hardships they create, he has long defended them.

This is the first time I've seen Dr. K since the tea party and I just had to ask her if she knew about [the anti-Christ 6th District Representative of Texas] who had headed it up and she said yes. She referred me back to a few years ago when Erin Brockovich came to hold a town meeting in Midlothian after she received letters from residents describing the harm being done by the plants. That's when Dr. K found out about the anti-Christ who was defending the kilns and it turned out she had a patient who was a good friend of his.

Anti-Christs don't show up well on film

So she asked him to confront the anti-Christ and find out what the deal was with his indefensible defense when the evidence was so clear that something needed to be done. When he came back, the answer was chilling. Off the record, the anti-Christ frankly admitted it's all about the money, "there's too much money involved" said Dr. K quoting her patient. The anti-Christ confessed to know there was an environmental problem but that the cement kilns are the ones who "support him in Washington." And apparently that's where his interests ended.

That's what Republicants mean when they say they value "loyalty". It doesn't mean loyalty to democracy or to constituents or to doing what's right, rather it means staying loyal to being bought off. Good show, that! So you can get all up in arms and scream the truth from the rooftops thinking your enlightening your local congressman, but gaming the truth is their game. America is a country where the motto is: "I got mine - and to hell with everything else." So I guess you can say our leaders truly represent us after all.

____________________________________

Who Needs Food And Water When You're Rich?

my⋅op⋅ic  [mahy-op-ik]
2. unable or unwilling to act prudently; shortsighted.
3. lacking tolerance or understanding; narrow-minded.

Myopia is the most prevalent disease known to Man. This sick state has become so pervasive that it is now accepted as "normal", the rationale for proclaiming it that is I assume "how can that many people be wrong?" My definition of myopia is one simple word: insanity.

I have nothing against the talking of philosophy or speculating on that which cannot be known. In fact, I find such conversation to be revelatory of the speakers involved. But due to the number of myopic souls in existence, philosophy has become an abused term. These souls - consciously or not - engage in the practice of pretending reality itself is an unknown. This crime is known as Willful Ignorance - the leading cause of myopia.

So to the myopic ones, to say the earth is round is a philosophical statement. Since a man with eyes closed cannot see this for himself, the reality of a round world becomes to him merely a point-of-view. And that's how we end up with these insane "Is the world round?" debates like "Was invading Iraq wrong?" and "Do we really need our environment?"

The second question leads me to my current topic. Texas likes to be #1 in all things and we certainly lead the way in disdain for the environment and in creating as much God fearing pollution as possible. In fact, if Texas were it's own country, it would have ranked seventh in the world in 2003 in the amount of carbon dioxide emissions (670 million metric tons, yeehaw!). Fucking up the environment is part of our religion here - our oil god demands it. You could even say we get off on it.

But as is the case with all perversions, what one achieves is the opposite of one's stated goal. In order to make Texas the best possible place to live, we are making it unlivable. We's jess smart like that, pardner. This really came home to me a few weeks ago on a Saturday morning when I felt my first ever earthquake. It was only for a couple of seconds but there was no mistaking it. It was actually kind of fun! But then I saw this article:

CLEBURNE, Texas – The earth moved here on June 2. It was the first recorded earthquake in this Texas town's 140-year history — but not the last.

There have been four small earthquakes since, none with a magnitude greater than 2.8. The most recent ones came Tuesday night, just as the City Council was meeting in an emergency session to discuss what to do about the ground moving.

The council's solution was to hire a geology consultant to try to answer the question on everyone's mind: Is natural gas drilling — which began in earnest here in 2001 and has brought great prosperity to Cleburne and other towns across North Texas — causing the quakes?

At issue is a drilling practice called "fracking," in which water is injected into the ground at high pressure to fracture the layers of shale and release natural gas trapped in the rock.

There is no consensus among scientists about whether the practice is contributing to the quakes. But such seismic activity was once rare in Texas and seems to be increasing lately, lending support to the theory that drilling is having a destabilizing effect.

On May 16, three small quakes shook Bedford, a suburb of Dallas and Fort Worth. Two small earthquakes hit nearby Grand Prairie and Irving on Oct. 31, and again on Nov. 1.

The article then goes on to detail all the money that's been made off the Barnett Shale natural gas formation - just in case anyone gets too upset about the destructive byproducts of reckless drilling. I won't go into all the details of the battles between environmentalists and drillers but it's enough to say this is Texas and you can guess who's winning. But Texas' true myopia concerns the most precious commodity to all living things: water.

The amount of water needed for a typical "frack" well is about 3,000,000 gallons which has resulted in billions of gallons of wastewater. In overall drainage from the Trinity Aquifer, it represents less that 2%, but as a UT geologist reports that is "an average, though. In some areas, gas drilling might represent 10 or 20 percent of the local usage." He goes on to state:

About 80 new wells are drilled in the area each month. As the rush to capture more gas from the Barnett play intensifies, the amount of water used for frac jobs will likely rise. At some point, it could compete with water for drinking and farming. Neighbors with shallow water wells might see their supplies drop.

But it's not just water that's used for fracking but also the dangerous chemicals mixed in. And what would happen if that toxic slush made it's way into the Trinity Aquifer, the lifeblood of the entire DFW area? One rancher found out the hard way:

Until now, the gas companies have pooh-poohed the fear, claiming their wells are dug at much deeper levels than the Trinity-Woodbine aquifer, which provides commercial, industrial, and livestock water for much of the Metroplex. But the nightmare has become a reality for Beadle and his neighbors: They have no water.

When gas companies insist that their drilling activities don’t affect water wells, it seems a reasonable enough assertion – water wells are usually drilled to depths from 125 to 300 feet, while gas in the Barnett Shale is usually found at 8,000 feet or deeper.

So how did the rancher's water get fouled and kill his livestock? Preliminary indications are a blowout in the gas pipeline near the surface leaked the toxins. Also, hydrocarbons which are "absolutely never [found] in an aquifer", showed up in water samples. Something wrong is going on down there and like Katrina, no one is going to care until it's too late.

Of course, myopia is only our official policy here in Texas. Behind the scenes we know we are taxing our reserves and our plan is to take Oklahoma's water. No, I'm not kidding. Only the Okies see no reason to oblige our stupidity, having recently placed a moratorium on out-of-state water sales. But what them there Okies don't understand is that it's Texas' right to take their water (and defeat OU) and we filed us a lawsuit saying so (not the OU part - yet). We are accusing them of, ahem, hoarding their water - like they have any use for it! And they in turn accuse us of wasting our resources with no serious though to water conservation. Well, duh!

"There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke."

It staggers me beyond belief the amount of casual denial we've come to accept. Here we are walking down the street fretting over having the latest I-Phone and crossing our fingers for a magical mystery cure to sweep away thoughts of any real solutions. But reality bites.

Do you really think we can invade a country to steal its resources and not suffer the same fate ourselves? We will be economically blackmailed by the very oil we sought to save us. What of our war machine then? The region of the world that hates us the most controls us the most, think of that. Same logic applies to our environment.

Our endgame is not life, but death. You can't eat money. You can't drink money. Our fate on this path is obvious for anyone who cares to see. But, hey, that's just my philosophy