I have a big mouth....
and I'm gonna use it to make things better
......Roseanne Barr......
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
the fault ...
"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings."
Cassius in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene ii.
But in ourselves, that we are underlings."
Cassius in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene ii.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
We who are middle and upper class in America look at our wealth and possessions and say to ourselves, "Look at us. We have arrived!" Yet, we fail to recognize (and close our eyes) to the truth that if any of our brothers and sisters, anywhere in the world, are still homeless, still hungry, still frightened, still persecuted, still struggling, still without hope, then none of us has truly arrived.
Monday, January 12, 2009
How I Spent My Winter Vacation
At the end of November 2008, I was riding around with my friend Huong in her car. We were going to go somewhere and recite a Sutra and talk about it, but first we picked up my paycheck and cashed it. Then while we were driving she said, “there is this Vietnamese temple, do you want to see it?” And I was like a little nervous because I am an American and I thought the people there would think I was pretty weird, but I said yes anyway. When we pulled up to the front of the temple, I could hear this wonderful sound, that was strange yet familiar to me all at once. The sound of wooden fish and chanting. So I jumped out of the car and I think Huong had to run after me... because that sound just called to me. So we were invited in and we sat down and listened. She doesn't read Vietnamese, and I of course was just totally clueless. Then after the recitation, the monks and the nuns invited us to have dinner with them. All the fear that I had about going there was completely gone because Thay said this is your home. And I felt completely at home because everyone was making jokes and smiling.
I couldn't stay away from that sound, so I started coming every day after my extremely boring job as a file clerk. The first weekend I stayed there for the whole weekend, it was so awesome. I had to learn how to say Amitabha in Vietnamese. At first I thought it sounded really funny, and I didn't have enough practice to fight off an extreme case of the giggles. I thought, “that Buddha! is just really a comedian!” I went around and asked like a dozen old ladies how to say it, and eventually I think I learned how to do it. After the first weekend, when I went to work, I was so sore in my legs that it was hard to bend over the filing cabinets, but I was so happy that my coworkers wondered what happened to me. On November 30th, 2008 at 6:00 a.m. My mother's 58th birthday, I took refuge at Chua Phat To and the old monk gave me the name Thanh Vi (miracle).
After that, I came all the time and I was really happy to hear that there was going to be a retreat at the temple. So I let go of the job that I had as a file clerk, and I started working my own schedule as an expediter for the Internet corporation Chacha.com. But it seemed like the new job was kind of progressing slowly, so put in more time to practice reciting the Buddha's name. A course of events happened that really took away every excuse I had for not attending the retreat. They might seem bad, but miracles always happen in the midst of (seemingly) unfortunate circumstances.
At the beginning of the retreat, I almost wanted to run away, but the monks kind of stopped me just as I was about to exit the stage. It was difficult being the person that stood out from the crowd, it was kind of like being in a fish tank or a tight rope walker with the spot light on me. But I just tried my best to be mindful of the Buddha and forget myself, and when I couldn't make it, Thay and the monks helped me out. I am extremely grateful to them. We had this Jingle Bells song we would sing so many times a day! It was slightly modified from the original, but I would always remind myself to stay single minded reciting the Buddha's name, like a sleigh with just one horse. And that it was really fun too!
The last night of the retreat was so awesome. So many wonderful things happened. It would be hard to explain them all. We started the evening by bowing around the temple. At first I didn't think I would make it, and I stood in the back of the room feeling really nervous. Suddenly felt like I had a lot of energy, so I decided to give it a shot. As I was bowing around the parking lot, I kept asking myself Why? Why? What am I doing here? As I listened to the sounds of the city around me I heard the cars, and the people walking by. I saw lights in the windows of the apartments around us, and I thought about the people inside the houses. I thought well, if I can do this, then anyone can, and maybe I can inspire others to try to learn this method of Dharma that has given me a lot of happiness. I remembered this poem written by Tsem Rinpoche, a Tibetan Dharma Master:
For all those who have never
even heard the word Dharma
I go on this journey, because I care,
and cannot bear to see their pain
any longer.
To connect them with
the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha,
I rejoice in any difficulties and problems, and
absorb them for the benefit of all.
So by just reciting that over and over in my head, and by thinking about the kindness of Thay and the other Dharma Masters, I got through to the end of the prostrations. As we approached the door, I heard applause as people were entering the sanctuary. As people came in, everyone was applauding them for coming this far. How far and to where exactly I wasn't sure, it seemed like I had entered the Pure Land as I bowed through the door. As I bowed through the doors, everyone was applauding so loudly for me that I was moved to tears. Because I know that I could not have made it through that door with out all of their support and love as well. And I felt very grateful to them as well as the Dharma Masters. After the ceremony I told Thay “thank you, tonight my life had purpose.”
At the end of November 2008, I was riding around with my friend Huong in her car. We were going to go somewhere and recite a Sutra and talk about it, but first we picked up my paycheck and cashed it. Then while we were driving she said, “there is this Vietnamese temple, do you want to see it?” And I was like a little nervous because I am an American and I thought the people there would think I was pretty weird, but I said yes anyway. When we pulled up to the front of the temple, I could hear this wonderful sound, that was strange yet familiar to me all at once. The sound of wooden fish and chanting. So I jumped out of the car and I think Huong had to run after me... because that sound just called to me. So we were invited in and we sat down and listened. She doesn't read Vietnamese, and I of course was just totally clueless. Then after the recitation, the monks and the nuns invited us to have dinner with them. All the fear that I had about going there was completely gone because Thay said this is your home. And I felt completely at home because everyone was making jokes and smiling.
I couldn't stay away from that sound, so I started coming every day after my extremely boring job as a file clerk. The first weekend I stayed there for the whole weekend, it was so awesome. I had to learn how to say Amitabha in Vietnamese. At first I thought it sounded really funny, and I didn't have enough practice to fight off an extreme case of the giggles. I thought, “that Buddha! is just really a comedian!” I went around and asked like a dozen old ladies how to say it, and eventually I think I learned how to do it. After the first weekend, when I went to work, I was so sore in my legs that it was hard to bend over the filing cabinets, but I was so happy that my coworkers wondered what happened to me. On November 30th, 2008 at 6:00 a.m. My mother's 58th birthday, I took refuge at Chua Phat To and the old monk gave me the name Thanh Vi (miracle).
After that, I came all the time and I was really happy to hear that there was going to be a retreat at the temple. So I let go of the job that I had as a file clerk, and I started working my own schedule as an expediter for the Internet corporation Chacha.com. But it seemed like the new job was kind of progressing slowly, so put in more time to practice reciting the Buddha's name. A course of events happened that really took away every excuse I had for not attending the retreat. They might seem bad, but miracles always happen in the midst of (seemingly) unfortunate circumstances.
At the beginning of the retreat, I almost wanted to run away, but the monks kind of stopped me just as I was about to exit the stage. It was difficult being the person that stood out from the crowd, it was kind of like being in a fish tank or a tight rope walker with the spot light on me. But I just tried my best to be mindful of the Buddha and forget myself, and when I couldn't make it, Thay and the monks helped me out. I am extremely grateful to them. We had this Jingle Bells song we would sing so many times a day! It was slightly modified from the original, but I would always remind myself to stay single minded reciting the Buddha's name, like a sleigh with just one horse. And that it was really fun too!
The last night of the retreat was so awesome. So many wonderful things happened. It would be hard to explain them all. We started the evening by bowing around the temple. At first I didn't think I would make it, and I stood in the back of the room feeling really nervous. Suddenly felt like I had a lot of energy, so I decided to give it a shot. As I was bowing around the parking lot, I kept asking myself Why? Why? What am I doing here? As I listened to the sounds of the city around me I heard the cars, and the people walking by. I saw lights in the windows of the apartments around us, and I thought about the people inside the houses. I thought well, if I can do this, then anyone can, and maybe I can inspire others to try to learn this method of Dharma that has given me a lot of happiness. I remembered this poem written by Tsem Rinpoche, a Tibetan Dharma Master:
For all those who have never
even heard the word Dharma
I go on this journey, because I care,
and cannot bear to see their pain
any longer.
To connect them with
the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha,
I rejoice in any difficulties and problems, and
absorb them for the benefit of all.
So by just reciting that over and over in my head, and by thinking about the kindness of Thay and the other Dharma Masters, I got through to the end of the prostrations. As we approached the door, I heard applause as people were entering the sanctuary. As people came in, everyone was applauding them for coming this far. How far and to where exactly I wasn't sure, it seemed like I had entered the Pure Land as I bowed through the door. As I bowed through the doors, everyone was applauding so loudly for me that I was moved to tears. Because I know that I could not have made it through that door with out all of their support and love as well. And I felt very grateful to them as well as the Dharma Masters. After the ceremony I told Thay “thank you, tonight my life had purpose.”
Sunday, January 11, 2009
SOLVING GAZA
I do not know who is to blame for the slaughter of civilians in Gaza and Israel. I do not care. Both sides are acting like uncivilised barbarians. At this time, blame is useless and counterproductive. Forget who is to blame, save that for later, if ever.
Blame doesn't matter, and we are all responsible - to see that it ends.
Chardi kala to all.
Mai Harinder Kaur
Blame doesn't matter, and we are all responsible - to see that it ends.
Chardi kala to all.
Mai Harinder Kaur
Saturday, January 10, 2009
US Silence as the Violence Escalates
News that the United States abstained in the recent UN Security Council vote to call for a ceasefire between Israel and Gaza is unsurprising given the strength of the Israeli position within the Bush Administration, but it should also be remembered that that very non-vote was a bright green light for the Israelis to ramp up their military efforts in Gaza, even as the suffering amongst innocent Palestinians grows by the day. As Andrew Sullivan points out today:
The chance of the PA [Palestinian Authority] establishing some post-war stability in Gaza certainly seems more remote. And the emergence of a poetntial terrorist training and recruiting ground in a failed and radicalized society in Gaza all the likelier. Friends and supporters of Israel should worry about this.
We should all worry about this. It's a reminder what blind ideological ambition gets us (remember those calls for democracy in the Middle East? That got us Hamas as the authority in the Gaza strip in the first place, tearing open our blatant hypocrisy for the world to see in our reaction), but more than that, the growing cost of war is everyday strengthening Hamas' post-invasion position, justifying their use of terrorism against the brutal Israeli oppressors.
I have sympathy for Israel and it's efforts. A country coming under constant rocket fire has an obligation to protect it's people. But here we see the damaging psychosis of modern war: as we move to suppress the violence with overwhelming force, we only breed more of it.
It all sounds strangely detached till you consider the lost children of the Samounis family and countless others who's deep and horrible wounds will only fester into radicalism once more.
Solving this crisis requires the moral resolve to push back against the justifiable anger of so many constituencies tangled in this quagmire and to point to the only real solution: creating infrastructure, opportunity and secular education to the people of Gaza and like regions throughout the developing and destroyed world.
Only then might we all emerge from the shadows of these bloody decades.
For more, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
I have sympathy for Israel and it's efforts. A country coming under constant rocket fire has an obligation to protect it's people. But here we see the damaging psychosis of modern war: as we move to suppress the violence with overwhelming force, we only breed more of it.
It all sounds strangely detached till you consider the lost children of the Samounis family and countless others who's deep and horrible wounds will only fester into radicalism once more.
Solving this crisis requires the moral resolve to push back against the justifiable anger of so many constituencies tangled in this quagmire and to point to the only real solution: creating infrastructure, opportunity and secular education to the people of Gaza and like regions throughout the developing and destroyed world.
Only then might we all emerge from the shadows of these bloody decades.
For more, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
Friday, January 9, 2009
B.ush S.upreme
Bush is the example of no political interest accumulated.
The deciding moment defines symptomatic behavior of parasitic nature,because he was so obviously a corporate raider & oil price manipulator.
The extreme results focuses a larger agreement of who has to be held responsible for the changes that makes this country more socialistic than ever allowed. To make this a bigger injustice these victimizers will make us believe that it can be reversed. The only chance (for that) would be for The Supreme Court to declare as "unconstitutional" the propaganda style of totalitarianism Bush represented.
THEY should void their decision to give him access!
A Serious Start
Maybe it's just the turn of the tide.
Perhaps it's being through with 16 years of frivolity.
Or it could be our new Commander in Chief takes the job really, really seriously.
Whatever the cause, 2009 seems to be off to a serious start. There's no humor to be found in the horrific situation unfolding in Gaza, nor can we find much to laugh at in the absurdly high cost of additionaly taxpayer bailouts and deficits. While the Blago scandal gave me hope for hilarity in 2009, the joy quickly faded once I realized how little I cared about these narcissistic blowhards in relativity to the severity of the state of things.
I recently read a friend's Facebook status that said: "Free Palestine".
At first I tried to ignore it. Why even respond to such ignorance, I thought.
But as the day wore on; and as I kept coming back to Facebook (at least 75 times per day), the status remained and my bubbling frustration grew...
This was, after all, a Facebook status: meant to be read. Meant to be spread.
Why would someone post something about a situation so serious without offering serious thought? This is a serious year, after all.
I finally responded: "Where's Palestine?" To my knowledge, the sovereign nation of Palestine has not existed for sometime. I added "From what?" I suppose the implicit idea was that the Palestinians find themselves oppressed by Israel. Some people would certainly agree with that idea, but few would suggest that Israeli aggression is wholly unjustified in the face of constant terrorism. It seems the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict just can't be distilled in a single Facebook status. Who'd've thunk it?
Sorry, but I've had it with jingoism. "War on Terror", "Spreading Democracy", "Enhanced Interrogation Techniques"; I'm not sure any of these has done us any good.
And while they all fit comfortably into a Facebook status, I'm not sure how much they contribute to our serious start in 2009.
For more, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
I recently read a friend's Facebook status that said: "Free Palestine".
At first I tried to ignore it. Why even respond to such ignorance, I thought.
But as the day wore on; and as I kept coming back to Facebook (at least 75 times per day), the status remained and my bubbling frustration grew...
This was, after all, a Facebook status: meant to be read. Meant to be spread.
Why would someone post something about a situation so serious without offering serious thought? This is a serious year, after all.
I finally responded: "Where's Palestine?" To my knowledge, the sovereign nation of Palestine has not existed for sometime. I added "From what?" I suppose the implicit idea was that the Palestinians find themselves oppressed by Israel. Some people would certainly agree with that idea, but few would suggest that Israeli aggression is wholly unjustified in the face of constant terrorism. It seems the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict just can't be distilled in a single Facebook status. Who'd've thunk it?
Sorry, but I've had it with jingoism. "War on Terror", "Spreading Democracy", "Enhanced Interrogation Techniques"; I'm not sure any of these has done us any good.
And while they all fit comfortably into a Facebook status, I'm not sure how much they contribute to our serious start in 2009.
For more, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
Thursday, January 8, 2009
A rediscovery of self
I wrote this in response to a change that has come over me. In recent months, I have become so ugly, and angry, and bitter and callous and cruel! I have had not one nice word to utter, no kind smiles to bestow, and certainly not a warm hug or friendly kiss to share with loved ones. In fact, I'm shocked I still have "loved ones."
I've discovered something beautiful in the past week that I had forgotten about. Through the protests and the concerts and, of course, the Festival, I was introduced to so many good people that I'd never known before. I saw generosity in its purest form: people handing out box upon box of free, unopened water bottles to groups of protesters who had been tear gassed ; "free hugs," taken seriously and given earnestly in the middle of the night ; kind words exchanged between strangers ; a sense of true safety and security in the darkest, coldest, times of night because everyone knew that they were among friends.
It has reminded me that life is very much worth living, despite the sick, hard, dark, mean things that surround (and threaten to suffocate) humanity. I have been reminded that my purpose is humanity, is love, is freedom and peace for all. Forgiveness is not a privilege, not a "treat" to be handed out to the most enthusiastic trespasser – it is a way of life, a calm, peaceful state of mind that says, "the one who stole from me is the same one who stole from you, and from our fathers, and who will steal from our children – he is a sickness that has always plagued our people and always will, and the only cure is peace, and love, and forgiveness."
It was my hurt, which became my anger, which stole my heart, which was replaced by my cruelty, that suffocated my soul for all this time. And, it is YOUR love, which has become my forgiveness, which has restored my heart, which has replaced my cruelty, that has freed my soul again.
Hence, the poem "Magic." I do hope you enjoy.
Magic
And as glitter fell from the sky
Like particles of soul,
Or pieces of the sun,
And touched my glowing cheeks
And rained down into my mind
And dizzied my vision
And enchanted the beating of my heart,
And as the music played
And the children played
And the stars and the moon and the trees
Played together
All together, in the glittery midnight
And as the warmth of so much love
And so many bodies
And so many smiles
Came together in mass exaltation
And as the trees began to laugh
And the stars came out to watch
And the rain drip-drop tickled
The shining, upturned faces
Of the playing children
And as the kind, soft earth
Beneath clitter-clotter dancing feet
Sighed its slow, deep, kind approval
I looked around with soulful eyes
And they felt bigger than the sky
And took in more of my world
Than they could ever reach before
And I was loved.
And so began to love back.
Paine
Everyone Asking for a bail-out is
a contributor to socialistic design,
whether wittingly or not!
The attitude made Uniting States possible.
a contributor to socialistic design,
whether wittingly or not!
The attitude made Uniting States possible.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
2009 B.C.
I'm a myth-whore. And the upcoming year in film has a lot to offer someone of my proclivity...
I've made the argument time and time again that should the theatre want to survive, it must locate the regional (and that's key) myths it can reinvent to tell the stories of today. Films are doing it as is evidenced from any number of contemporary examples like the extraordinary Pan's Labrynth, Children of Men, The Dark Knight, Wall-E and Sunshine; and while not regional (that would be antithetical to a film market), they exude the ancient archetypes and classic moral conflicts of Ovid and Homer.
Realism, for my money, should always be left to the cultural critics as they sift through the sad remnants of everyday life. Those of us tasked with telling stories get far more mileage out of the invited fiction our audience is willing to entertain.
The strength of all art lies in the imagination of those watching.
I can't wait to join in the fun in 2009.
Pictured Above: An image from Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are, a film based on a much beloved children's book that I'm just about ready to pee my pants in anticipation for.
For more, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
Realism, for my money, should always be left to the cultural critics as they sift through the sad remnants of everyday life. Those of us tasked with telling stories get far more mileage out of the invited fiction our audience is willing to entertain.
The strength of all art lies in the imagination of those watching.
I can't wait to join in the fun in 2009.
Pictured Above: An image from Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are, a film based on a much beloved children's book that I'm just about ready to pee my pants in anticipation for.
For more, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
Lessons
The way it is is not necessarily the way it should be
In kindergarten you learn that you can do anything
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A princess."
"Good for you! You can do anything you put your mind to."
In high school you learn that to achieve, you must be educated
"Where are you going to school next year?"
"The U."
"Good for you! You'll do great things."
In real ife you learn that it doesn't always work that way
"What are you up to now?"
"Well, I'm working a lot and I hope to go back to school soon."
"Good for you! You still have time."
In time you learn to adapt
"You in school yet?"
"It's not looking good, but I hope to find a better job soon."
"Well, life isn't always easy. Best of luck to you."
Sometimes adaptation doesn't work
"Where are you living now?"
"With some friends. I'm hoping to get my own place soon."
"That sounds like fun."
After adaptation fails you, you learn to survive
"How do you plan on getting to work today?"
"I figure I can make it there and back, and then I don't know."
"At least you're still trying, though, right? Good for you."
Survival isn't easy, either
"Have you eaten today?"
"No, not yet, but my friend works at Pizza Hut and I figure I can get something later."
"Well if you ever need anything, let me know."
But you can't always "let them know"
"How're ya doin today?"
"Eh, I'm alright. Just truckin' along, you know."
"Good for you. Good for you."
Eventually you learn that to let them know is to sell yourself
"Oh, hey, I got that twenty bucks you needed!"
"Gee, thanks. I really do appreciate that, and I'll pay you as soon as I can."
"Oh, don't worry about it. What kind of person would I be if I couldn't help a friend in need?"
And then you learn that a sold soul is a pitied life, and you ask a child
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A cowboy."
And you smile, and you say, "Good. Good for you."
And you eat your free pizza and you make it to work and you think
"One day I will."
In kindergarten you learn that you can do anything
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A princess."
"Good for you! You can do anything you put your mind to."
In high school you learn that to achieve, you must be educated
"Where are you going to school next year?"
"The U."
"Good for you! You'll do great things."
In real ife you learn that it doesn't always work that way
"What are you up to now?"
"Well, I'm working a lot and I hope to go back to school soon."
"Good for you! You still have time."
In time you learn to adapt
"You in school yet?"
"It's not looking good, but I hope to find a better job soon."
"Well, life isn't always easy. Best of luck to you."
Sometimes adaptation doesn't work
"Where are you living now?"
"With some friends. I'm hoping to get my own place soon."
"That sounds like fun."
After adaptation fails you, you learn to survive
"How do you plan on getting to work today?"
"I figure I can make it there and back, and then I don't know."
"At least you're still trying, though, right? Good for you."
Survival isn't easy, either
"Have you eaten today?"
"No, not yet, but my friend works at Pizza Hut and I figure I can get something later."
"Well if you ever need anything, let me know."
But you can't always "let them know"
"How're ya doin today?"
"Eh, I'm alright. Just truckin' along, you know."
"Good for you. Good for you."
Eventually you learn that to let them know is to sell yourself
"Oh, hey, I got that twenty bucks you needed!"
"Gee, thanks. I really do appreciate that, and I'll pay you as soon as I can."
"Oh, don't worry about it. What kind of person would I be if I couldn't help a friend in need?"
And then you learn that a sold soul is a pitied life, and you ask a child
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A cowboy."
And you smile, and you say, "Good. Good for you."
And you eat your free pizza and you make it to work and you think
"One day I will."
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The Big Picture
"Major Marcel saw alien bodies. Two witnesses are cited who claim that Marcel briefly mentioned seeing bodies, one a relative and another a tech sergeant who worked with Marcel's intelligence team. Eyewitness accounts of the site from Gerald Anderson provided vivid descriptions of both a downed alien craft and four aliens, of which at least one was alive".
The Big Picture......is this......extraterrestrials are real, advanced life forms from other worlds, and yes they've been visiting our world for some time now........The Disclosure Project.
Some of the first photographs from the early lunar probes revealed unusual and unnatural structures that could only be explained as buildings and bases............Sgt. Karl Wolf.
During the Apollo missions, photographs were taken of the moon from the orbiting Command Modules.........analysis of these photographs reveal extensive evidence of purpose-build constructions in the form of buildings, facilities, and bases........Lunomaly Research Group.
Apollo 14 astronaut, Dr. Edgar Mitchell, confirms what many have long known......that the events at Roswell in 1947 did happen and that we are indeed being visited by beings from other worlds.......Fox News.
The Travis Walton experience is unequivocally the best documented case of alien abduction ever recorded.....they study us, like we study frogs in biology class.......Fire in the Sky.
Secret space based weapon systems can be seen through the telescope of John Lenard Walson.........John Lenard Walson.
Astounding ultraviolet video footage from NASA space missions show an unbelievable view of huge alien spacecraft in the film, "Dan Ackroyd-Unplugged on UFO's"........Trailer.
Conspiracy Theory?....................................it's not a theory.
Days Like These
As war tears through Gaza once again, like so many other places throughout the world, I'm reminded of how thankful I am to live in a world of internet news. Where should one chose it, full coverage is available to people who would like to know the full extent and devastation of warfare and its costs. I've written before about Howard Zinn's famous statement that should every war be viewed as a war against our neighbor's children, we would have far fewer. Today's news that a UN school was attacked and several dozen children were killed or injured only reinforces that claim.I was struck today when I turned on the television to images of Roland Burris being denied his Senate seat as the Blago debacle continued to play out on Capital Hill. How pathetic. It's a shame on multiple levels; the most obvious being why is this news? Why should we care about this lest we live in Illinois? Why are the lives of children in Gaza or Somalia or the Sudan or Zimbabwe worth so much less than the hubris of this 71 year old narcissist and his cadre of losers? Additionally, I suppose, why are we spared the horror of wars not only of our own making but those of others? Should we not be collectively forced to confront the massacres unleashed by brutal military force (and those of Hamas-led missle attacks and other forms of terrorism)?
It seems on days like these our priorities are horribly confused. And when images like these are blasted across our laptops but not our televisions, something is most definitely wrong.
For more, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
Anon
Hi Boys 'n Girls,
My name doesn't matter but I am hetrosexual.
I collect porcelain plates and works of great fiction.
Do you come here often?
Lately, I have been thinking about humanity.
The shortest lived animal species so far?
I think we may find that we are.
Still, time takes time to drag while fingers rake tacky chalk marks on the blackboard of life. White birds on a dark background. Smoke on a flat sky.
Its all gone to shit hasn't it?
But when?
And where?
And who do we blame?
Silly question really.
There is only one culprit.
us.
My name doesn't matter but I am hetrosexual.
I collect porcelain plates and works of great fiction.
Do you come here often?
Lately, I have been thinking about humanity.
The shortest lived animal species so far?
I think we may find that we are.
Still, time takes time to drag while fingers rake tacky chalk marks on the blackboard of life. White birds on a dark background. Smoke on a flat sky.
Its all gone to shit hasn't it?
But when?
And where?
And who do we blame?
Silly question really.
There is only one culprit.
us.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Look for yourself
"When anyone shows himself overly confident in ability to understand and interpret the works of Chrysippus, say to yourself, " Unless Chrysippus had written obscurely, this person would have had no subject for his vanity. But what do I desire? To understand nature and follow her. I ask, then, who interprets her, and, finding Chrysippus does, I have recourse to him. I don't understand his writings. I seek, therefore, one to interpret them." So far there is nothing to value myself upon. And when I find an interpreter, what remains is to make use of his instructions. This alone is the valuable thing. But, if I admire nothing but merely the interpretation, what do I become more than a grammarian instead of a philosopher?" from "The Enchiridion" by Epictetus
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Barely Philosophical Proposition
Dear God, I'm Gay. Do you still love me? They thought they'd ask
An idea struck during simple prayer, or a sermon preached but nigh forgotten,
One of the admired men, the widely acknowledged examples of faith embodied,
Must have thought it up some midweek day, and thought it out, and talked it out
And written his words and pondered his thoughts. I'll bet he practiced every day
From when the last well-intentioned word shone shiny black on righteously recycled white
To the end-week morning he awoke with shiny thoughts of Jesus tears streaming
Through his body like sorrow runs in wetness down denied lovers' cheeks. He looked
At his humbly proud face, virtuously smiling with politicians' prowess, directly in the
Self-imposed ignorance-filled eyes, and practiced his damning, hurtful words
One last time before he presented his fanatically supported, weakly founded barely
Philosophical proposition to his partially proud, partially desperate, partially confused
Pack of parishioners: Dear God, the projector read, I'm Gay. No one gasps here; they read
Last weeks informational pamphlet more thoroughly than they understood this weeks'
Motivational Message Memory Verse. Do You Still Love Me? Hmm, some of them
Would think to themselves, if they hadn't quieted their inner sinful voice to let in the
Deafening, fleeting, feeble voice of a newly impersonal, widely misunderstood God,
I wonder if He does.
An idea struck during simple prayer, or a sermon preached but nigh forgotten,
One of the admired men, the widely acknowledged examples of faith embodied,
Must have thought it up some midweek day, and thought it out, and talked it out
And written his words and pondered his thoughts. I'll bet he practiced every day
From when the last well-intentioned word shone shiny black on righteously recycled white
To the end-week morning he awoke with shiny thoughts of Jesus tears streaming
Through his body like sorrow runs in wetness down denied lovers' cheeks. He looked
At his humbly proud face, virtuously smiling with politicians' prowess, directly in the
Self-imposed ignorance-filled eyes, and practiced his damning, hurtful words
One last time before he presented his fanatically supported, weakly founded barely
Philosophical proposition to his partially proud, partially desperate, partially confused
Pack of parishioners: Dear God, the projector read, I'm Gay. No one gasps here; they read
Last weeks informational pamphlet more thoroughly than they understood this weeks'
Motivational Message Memory Verse. Do You Still Love Me? Hmm, some of them
Would think to themselves, if they hadn't quieted their inner sinful voice to let in the
Deafening, fleeting, feeble voice of a newly impersonal, widely misunderstood God,
I wonder if He does.
Its time we overcome ourselves
"I teach you the overman. Man is something that shall be overcome. What have you done to overcome him? [...] All beings so far have created something beyond themselves; and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood, and even go back to the beasts rather than overcome man? What is ape to man? A laughing stock or painful embarrassment. And man shall be that to overman: a laughingstock or painful embarrassment. You have made your way from worm to man, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now, too, man is more ape than any ape...The overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the overman shall be the meaning of the earth...Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman--a rope over an abyss...what is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end..." Friedrich Nietzsche "Thus Spoke Zarathustra"
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Dead Things: Thoughts on Going Home
I'd driven by hundreds of times since growing up and moving out, but somehow to drive is to go at warp speed; too fast and sheltered to feel and smell and see what's become of what used to be home. The artifacts that emerge from memoric haze are only momentarily revived beyond a car window. You can turn away and find something in the present to distract you within. That's not an option when you walk.
I park blocks away. The parking in Chinatown's always been disastrous (my father's words echoing through my brain) so I pull into a space across the decaying brown tenements I spent my first years in. This is the New York that's etched into my DNA, a jagged canyon of brick and iron; gray as the sky; hard and tough and cold. It looks nothing like the New York of myth - faux bright lights and arts events on every corner. No. I do not know that place: the haunt of trust fund babies and ivy school graduates mimicking their way into bohemia. I've never known that place.
It strikes me as I inhale the ghastly, poisoned chill air that home is a scattered thing. A dead thing. As life stretches out in front of us, pieces of it fall across the vast landscape of our experience. We revisit with excitement, eager to see what's changed; what's new. I'm struck by the sameness of the scene. The stasis of a place fortold as the forefront of the dynamic world.
My grandparents, still hunkered down in their studio apartment as they've been for decades, just got a laptop. My visit is a surprise and they beam with pride upon my smiling entrance. I take them across the universe; their first visit to this internet thing. I tell them enthusiastically: "this will change your life! You can connect with everyone...everything...you can connect with the world."
They feign wonder.
I feel silly; my technocratic optimism is exposed for the charade it's always been. I've been crouched in the backseat of a car all along. They've been far more connected than me.
The street is viscerally colder when I emerge again. I notice the tackiness of 90's archetechture for the first time. I notice the purple paint that went over street art. I notice the street art that went over the purple paint. I notice still, ancient faces in windows that have increased only in creases.
I get in the car and speed onto the highway.
My heart is heavy.
For More, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
I park blocks away. The parking in Chinatown's always been disastrous (my father's words echoing through my brain) so I pull into a space across the decaying brown tenements I spent my first years in. This is the New York that's etched into my DNA, a jagged canyon of brick and iron; gray as the sky; hard and tough and cold. It looks nothing like the New York of myth - faux bright lights and arts events on every corner. No. I do not know that place: the haunt of trust fund babies and ivy school graduates mimicking their way into bohemia. I've never known that place.
It strikes me as I inhale the ghastly, poisoned chill air that home is a scattered thing. A dead thing. As life stretches out in front of us, pieces of it fall across the vast landscape of our experience. We revisit with excitement, eager to see what's changed; what's new. I'm struck by the sameness of the scene. The stasis of a place fortold as the forefront of the dynamic world.
My grandparents, still hunkered down in their studio apartment as they've been for decades, just got a laptop. My visit is a surprise and they beam with pride upon my smiling entrance. I take them across the universe; their first visit to this internet thing. I tell them enthusiastically: "this will change your life! You can connect with everyone...everything...you can connect with the world."
They feign wonder.
I feel silly; my technocratic optimism is exposed for the charade it's always been. I've been crouched in the backseat of a car all along. They've been far more connected than me.
The street is viscerally colder when I emerge again. I notice the tackiness of 90's archetechture for the first time. I notice the purple paint that went over street art. I notice the street art that went over the purple paint. I notice still, ancient faces in windows that have increased only in creases.
I get in the car and speed onto the highway.
My heart is heavy.
For More, visit Rants, Raves and Rethoughts
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