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

Forget about your body image...

What about your Bodhisattva image??

 

 

 

I should point out...

I still get angry. 

Over rubbish. 

Someone cut in front of me in the line the other day in the supermarket.

I considered ranting and raving about it.  But I bit my tongue, and went for a walk. 

I was wandering around the shop for about five minutes...letting it cool down...

asking, 'what is this'? 

'Does this matter?' 

'Really??'

'Is this REALLY the kind of thing you want to get bent out of shape over??'

'You REALLY want to send your battleships to war over THIS???"

I keept working it over in my mind.

'Will the anger make me feel better?' 

'Will it not do more harm than good?'

'Is it who I want to be?' 

'Who the Hell said I am more important than the other person?' 

'I let people go in front of me in traffic...how is this different?' 

'Besides...this was a lady. 

Even though I have the next ticket...

do I not generally offer the lady first go??'  

'Where does this come from?' 

'Can I make a different choice?' 

Can I live differently??

Gradually...the storm subsided. 

It's cool; it's all about nature. 

If the weather is allowed to get angry...I guess so are we.

BUT...why deliberately hurt people with that anger?

That's what makes being human such a great gift.

That we can see a chance to hurt others...

& do differently.

We can also do good.

& it is good to knock that anger shit off.


And I was right. 

a few days later...

it is almost forgotten.

It didn't matter.

What mattered...was making another choice.

choosing another adventure.
 
That's the real juice.

It's amazing how deeply woven into my being Dad's anger is. 

He's dead now. 

I don't have to keep it.


I never did...

Pole Position...

OK...I think it is now time to make Pole Dancing an Olympic Sport. 

Let's get it out of the sleazy bars & the minds of short sighted rednecks, and on the world athletic stage where it belongs. 

Dammit- if this art/sport 'aint simple garden variety GYMNASTICS...

then I swear, I dunno' what else is.  

Who's in charge??