Bosch Tosh migosh...

Hospital is like a weird bad dream. 

Like something out of Bosch. 

When I get out, I wander around for days like I lost my soul somewhere, & I'm trying to find it under the couch cushions.

But in my country- the care is covered.    

MY thoughts today are with those who literally have to mortgage their own souls to pay for their hospital stay. 

As I was lying in the bed, trying to find a position that didn't smart, I thought, thank the gods for my hospital bed, a warm ward, and good care. 

That soon got me off to sleep.


We can all count our blessings; even if we can't locate all of them at first.    

You can start with the obvious ones...


I am thankful for life, love and health care.

etc...

<3 p="">

 

Open Letter to Those Who Manipulate the Truth…

Just a short note to clear things up...

A Manifesto of sorts.

You might have the luxury of being able to say what you like & call it the truth.  

I do NOT.

Men- for whatever reason- have the inclination to lie about things.

I have done it- most of my brethren do. 

Everything from ‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman’ to ‘there were weapons of mass destruction over there’. 

I deal with this in my book.

Whether it is genetic or learned- we seem to have a predisposition toward lying- yes, more than women do. 

Don't take my word for it.  Look at the studies. 

& don't ask me why. 

I MIGHT be lying.

You have the luxury of being able to say you are from one part of the country and the other. 

(& what is the most painful is when you treat me as if I were somehow ‘slow’ or ‘stupid’. 
 
I’m actually none of these. 

As much as you may want to believe I am an imbecile- I am actually quite intelligent.) 

I simply need to be very clear what the truth is, and stick to that doggedly lest I fall into the trap of playing merry hell with what is real/factual. 

Some truths are negotiable- but not many. 

Am I fat?  Open to debate. 

Am I Caucasian?  Yes.

Am I FROM Australia?  Yes. 

If I am vague on these particular details, then next thing you know, I am telling a woman I ‘did NOT sleep with that other woman’ (when I know damned well I fucked the shit out of her).  & then, I am no better than my father, who was so vague about what was true…

it eventually drove him insane.

& tore our family apart.

You can say whatever you like. 
 
You can say you are White...but really Black...until you are Blue in the face.
 
You can fib yourself into an early grave. 
 
This is a democracy.
 
I can’t do that. 

I have to be rigid about what is true, and what is not. 

To be otherwise causes untold damage to those who rely upon my word.

You can say and do what you like, and call it true.  (& most of the planet will support you in that. society & it’s structures are largely built on the lies we tell ourselves. War is an EXCELLENT example.) 

That is how a ‘war for oil’ became a WAR ON TERROR & A FIGHT FOR FREEDOM. 

But MOST (if not all) countries do!! 

It’s systemic.  So don’t feel as though it is cultural, or uniquely your affliction; because WE went with the US in this lie. 

Manipulating the truth for your convenience is international.

I simply cannot be a part of it.

& I simply can’t be around the kind of people who do it. 

Say one thing, and mean another.  I don’t have that luxury. 

I cannot.

Or rather…WILL not.

AGAIN...
 
I should make one thing very clear; none of this is a criticism of ANY other person. 

You are ALL wonderful people in your own way.

But I ALSO do not judge you. 

I have NO RIGHT to judge you. 

I am not BETTER than you; I am not a Christian, so I do not believe that this one goes to Heaven for telling the truth, and that one to Hell for lying.

& I can safely say I am someone who has engaged in my share of LIES.

No more.

It’s about choices. 

What is right for you. 

If lying…

or indeed ANY other choices (eating meat, saying mass) work for you, then that is your right.

We are only human here; frail, flawed creatures doing the best we can in a complicated world. 

We do what we can.  
My choices are CERTAINLY no better than yours.

Neither are they worse. 

Forewarned...

One of the typical features of a abuse survivor is the inclination to blame others for ones' own faults. 

When something goes wrong- an abuse survivor will often try to find someone else to blame.

If you find yourself a target of this...it's not your fault. 

Nothing to do with you, really. 

Just politely decline to involve yourself in the psychodrama. 

Of course, if you find yourself dealing with someone in a position of authority who has this, like a cop (& abused souls often become cops to address the wrongs done to them)...

then you are fucked.

Those bastards have guns. 

Lental Soup...

The Christian tradition Lent came up in conversation today. 

Don't ask why- that's a whole other blog.  

It must be tough as nails being a Catholic. 

My understanding of Lent is that you have to give up what you love most for 40 days. 

I love life...so I would have to give that up;

which would mean killing myself. 

And suicide is a mortal sin! 

HOT DAMN!!  Damned if you do...

damned if you don't.

dammit Janet...

I love you.   

WE ARE THE CONSTITUTION!!

A letter to the local paper, the Portland Observer for info:


It's not often I feel compelled to write something positive.

Life is tough, and ridden with cruelty and injustice.

I am hyper critical- I guess the legacy of an abusive childhood- but I generally find the whole deal a lip-biting exercise, wherein it seems preferable to repress my anger and frustration at the inequities, corruption and lies, rather than suffer some kind of brain aneurysm.

Life is tough. So what. We deal with it.

My consolation, my solace, has always been writing.

I write about 6--8 hours a day, and am just starting to discover some things about the craft.

& as I read the Portland Observer...I see our little paper here in the ass end of the planet has also come of age.

The standard of journalism of late is first rate.

It wasn't always that way; in the past...it seemed like the paper was a testing ground for students on work experience. That has changed.

The writing is uniformly top notch.

But not only is the writing in this newspaper of a very high order- world standard- but she also seems to have taken on some of the same injustices that pester me.

I think for the most part, it is widely accepted that small town papers are fiercely conservative. & generally, this is true.

But every once in a while...I can see some teeth.

An edge in the voice.

A refusal to accept something that is just plain wrong.

For example, I think we are starting to come to grips with the fact that we have a local council that just DOES NOT WORK.

Raising rates in a time of world wide economic hardship...when the standard of council service has been on a steady decline for decades?

WHY??

I am delighted to 'observe' that the Observer is observing some of the same injustices...right here on our doorstep.

As a frustrated ratepayer who has reached his giddy limit- I am rallying my own resources to rage against the dying of the light of decent civic representation. I intend to do something about this untenable and unacceptable situation. 'No taxation without representation' indeed.

But at those times where I wonder to myself, 'should I not just bite the bullet, bend over and take it like I always have'...it is nice to know I am not alone in my frustration and anger.

Council neither know nor care who we are.

And at a time where the future of local council hangs in the balance (indeed- how many people realise councils are UNCONSTITUTIONAL??) & co-incidentally, at a time when citizens all over the nation are beginning to take on their corrupt local councils IN COURT in disgust...

it is clearly time for ordinary citizens to stand up to these brutes, who have been living high on the fat of our rates dollars & laughing at us as they do NOTHING for us.

(I cannot even get them to keep their promises to keep our nature strip tidy as they have repeatedly promised!! a simple enough council matter? clearly not!)

I can hear the murmurs, here in our beloved town.

Edmund Burke said all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.

 I think there are a growing number of us who are tired of doing nothing in response to THEIR doing NOTHING.

 LOCAL COUNCIL DO NOT GIVE A DAMN.

I think we are ALL beginning to get the message.

It is difficult to do anything about the Federal and State government corruption without a fat litigation fighting fund in the coffers.

But given that these local mongrels do not even act under the imprimatur of our CONSTITUTION...I don't see why we should put up with it any longer.

Have YOU got bags of cash to donate to dick-heads?

I don't.

Our time has come. Enough is enough.

I can see it.

So can the Portland Observer.

At a time when people are starting to rise up and say no more...the quality of journalism has also co-incidentally risen to meet the very same challenge.

Our newspaper DOES in fact care about us.

You can't fake that. You can't simulate compassion. You can't fake genuine empathy.

It's time we ALL cared, while we still have a voice.

This will not be an easy fight...

But it will be worth it.

Our constitution does not recognise the rights of the Council...which is nothing more than a Corporation and as such, exposed to the same corruption as any other...

So why should WE??

WE ARE THE CONSTITUTION!!

Vive la Nation

I NEVER felt alone.

I was wondering why I have been farting around last few days, instead of doing my work. 'WTF is wrong with you???' I charged in my typical accusatory fashion. (this should be a blog, but to Hell with it...i'll try to keep it short.) It turns out...last night as I went through my book...I seem to have broken it's back. Sometimes...your subconscious knows things you don't. I mean...it's not quite time for summer showers and walks on the beach...i will keep revising the material, and workshopping the routines...but GODDAMMIT IT...I think I actually have something here. Almost 600 pages...kind of an epic 'poem'- a paen to masculinity.

I described it thus; The book is about masculinity. Anger. War. Hate. Love.

Homecoming.

It covers pretty much everything from my abuse as a child, right up to the consequences of the Iraq war...indeed ALL war.

And whether there are any other choices available to men other than hate, war, and animosity toward women....indeed toward our fellow man in general.

In a nutshell!!

I don't know what kind of masochist would attempt it...all I know is, it is on the way to being completed...& it is the culmination of a life's work.

& i am happy with it.

& I have YOU to thank for your ongoing support through this testing time.

So I say THANK YOU.

All of you.

They say a writer does it alone...bullshit.

no one does it alone.

I NEVER felt alone.

♥

HEART IS HOME