Wild Card… the Trump cards of the lost Presidency….
Wild Card… the Trump cards of the lost Presidency….
Diversity is maxed out where I live. My kids are experiencing a vastly different community from mine. I ask myself,
“Are we still living in the same place where I grew up ?” My mind says yes.
Now every home is a community in itself. Not like the open community I came from, where families knew each other and did the same things together. Change is a great thing but it can make it hard to blend in and make friends. The kids don’t have an issue with it but it is harder for the parents.
Today I am watching the big trucks put new asphalt on our street and I ask myself this question,
“How can I avoid the winter Olympics?”
This is one global community that turns me off. Cooperate powered youthful competition does not interest me at all. My house is winter Olympics free!!!
From the, out there, global communities to the, right here, local community, I am a bit disappointed. Instead, I have created a great computer community for myself. One that stirs my many interests and friendships tighter together. My brother Greg told me once,
“We now have to create our own communities…!”
I just read in Harper’s magazine an editorial by James Marcus entitled Easy Chair: Dodge the Draft! Yes there are politicians trying to get that darn thing going again. In the article it states Representative Rangel;
“I am saying that everyone should have to make a commitment to national service.” Pg. 7 March 2014
Maybe he is right, but let’s do a twist on this. In my community a growing number of massage parlors are opening up like wild-fire, which is most likely putting the elegant and expensive Madams out of business. Hey, if you can get it cheap and dirty, with an illegal young woman, why not?
Let’s legalize prostitution. I have written about this before. Let’s be open about this. Women from 16 to 23 can do their national service. The big wigs all use them, as well as the perverts. So why not make it up front. This way the young gals can save up some big money for their future college educations. This is before they get married and have children of course: A much better alternative than giving their lives to the war machine, now that they could get drafted. This might give us a happy community, locally and nationally while putting those cheesy massage parlors out of business and opening up some quality Madam owned Federal brothels. Our women deserve better, especially those women who have come here to make a fresh start from another country. They could put their 2 to 3 years in national service and become legal citizens. Hey that is what I did pretty much from 15 to 19 anyway… why not get paid good money for it.
Locally my community is very diverse. We have a few hip cats and many types of dogs in our neighborhood The new neighbors, a few houses down from us, let their little Chihuahua bark all night long. I finally had to go over to their house in my pajamas last night,
Knock knock, noticing the beautiful stain glass window on their front door; a young man answered the door.
“Hello” I introduced myself, “We have been very patient with your barking dog. My husband has to get up early in the morning; if you don’t bring your dog in we will have to call the cops!”
“Call the cops then!” He said. I then asked him his name as a way to nicely balance out my Adam 12 assholism. He of course shut the door in my face, I don’t blame him. I wasn’t going to call the cops but I was feeling rather put upon. The dog stopped.
How strange life seems these days with local and global diversity. So much news and so many changes around every corner …even in my little neighborhood! Yet, the continuity of an irritating barking dog will never change. This is what I look for in life, those things that may help me to feel normal and safe…like the barking dog. At least the little Chihuahua got me out and over to say hello to our new neighbors. That dog barks all the fucking time too…day and night. I can hear the dog right now!!
A donkey with a load of holy books is still a donkey.
In eastern Libya an U.S. ambassador is dead. The political machine is turning on this one and some have unsuccessfully used it to their disadvantage. This beautiful land of Africa on the Mediterranean Sea holds a deeply conservative Muslim nation. Ak-47s, Islamist militant armies, Ambassador Stevens and a film “Innocence of Muslims”, all speak of hate and death. Then there is Morris Sadek Egyptian Christian Activist and Coptic man who embodies his war against the God of Islam. Joining his battle is Pastor Terry Jones a conservative Christian of Florida who promotes this hate on September 11th by showing this film. While the best of the best, Sufi Muslim Shrines, are destroyed by religious extremists. The Majority of people who live in Libya are not hateful. We need to remember this.
This beautiful fertile crescent is a historical place of war shed for extreme generations of time. It is a love hate religious war. I wish we could gather up all of these extremists and put them on an island at sea and just let them kill each other off. The extremist Muslim, Christian and Jew seem to hate all the time. Truly my deepest wish is that they would just sit down and talk and learn to live together without all this childlike emotional hatred.
These religious traditions all are Abrahamic religions that come from the same seed. I feel now is the time to trace their generations back together. Joining together in their common religious heritage. Then drink and dance with the whirling dervishes. Healing the fertile crescent. Childlike spiritual emotional hopefulness works too!
Happy are those who find fault with themselves instead of finding fault with others.
“The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.” ~ Emily Dickinson
I am not a professional editor. I find that I do reread my postings and continually make corrections. When I first post my posts are based on the emotional inspiration that comes up. This is when I am likely losing all sight to imperfections and grammar and misspelling. Then I try to edit my writing as time goes on. My goal is to be as perfect as I can be. I know the truth about having work published in books, magazines and profession web sites. In these cases all work gets edited many times by many editors. I respect their discipline. Editing is not my forte but writing a good story is. I try to catch an image or archetype and then write it into being. I know this may sound simplistic but I will write it just the same. Once while watching an episode of Little House on the Prairie, Pa tells Laura about writing,
“There are those educated at the best universities, these are the ones we learn to respect. There are those that learn by nature, these are the ones we learn to love.”
My writing is somewhere between the two. I am not too interested in being respected. Being loved is much more fulfilling to me. Yet, I am not too sure on how homogenous the two go together in this world of ours. I am always open to suggestions or editorial insights. Maybe I will not agree but I will think about it. I also know that Emily Dickinson gave her editor a hard time… aren’t you glad she did !!!