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| | Theresa Sings (for T) | | | | Thursday, November 19, 2009 (9:42 PM) | | Theresa didn't much care for her given name. She liked it alright, until she discovered that her mother had spelled it "Teresa." After that, she called herself "T." She was eight; she was very clever.
I met T on her 49th birthday; after she had sat on a bar stool at the age of nine with her recently paroled Dad. After she had served 3-to-5 for armed robbery at the age of eighteen. After she had become the best machinist anyone has ever seen at the age of twenty.
After she gave-up (but didn't or couldn't, really).
During our first conversation she told me that she enjoyed playing her guitar naked on her front porch. (Not so much because she excelled at guitar playing or because she enjoyed being naked (though both were true), but because she really enjoyed fucking with the Norm).
I loved her immediately.
***
You laughed with abandon.
Good journey, T. | | | 16 Views | 2  Thumbs Up | 1 Comment |  |
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| | The Mountain Meadows Massacre | | | | Wednesday, November 18, 2009 (6:02 PM) | | In 1857, a group of Mormons massacred 137 settlers from Missouri and Arkansas who were traveling to California. They were killed for the sin of being gentiles.
"If any miserable scoundrels come here, cut their throats." ~ Brigham Young
"The Mountain Meadows Massacre stands without a parallel amongst the crimes that stain the pages of American history. It was a crime committed without cause or justification of any kind to relieve it of its fearful character... When nearly exhausted from fatigue and thirst, [the men of the caravan] were approached by white men, with a flag of truce, and induced to surrender their arms, under the most solemn promises of protection. They were then murdered in cold blood." ~ William Bishop, Attorney to John D. Lee
Gotta love that old-time religion! | | | | 16 Views | 4 Thumbs Up | 2 Comments | |
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| | Roundabout | | | | Wednesday, November 18, 2009 (6:03 PM) | | Texas and Arizona have newer, very wide roads and interstates.
When we moved from Arizona to Massachusetts, we adjusted to expensive housing (of the "holyshit, these houses are expensive" variety) tiny, winding roads and four distinctive seasons.
Visions of bustling Boston and quaint New England villages dissolved when I realized we had moved to western Massachusetts (anyone who has been there knows what I mean). I cried in disappointment; that's how bad it felt.
Jessica told me when she traversed a rotary the first time she drove the circle until she could call someone to find-out which exit to take; she said she drove it about 15 times. As she was telling me about that, I merged onto a highway and saw a sign that read "Squeeze Left," but there was no left lane into which to "squeeze."
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| | Evolution of Self | | | | Friday, November 13, 2009 (10:34 AM) | | When Jessica became ill (over 2 years ago now), we anticipated her long recovery periods following major surgeries. We placed a desk with her new Mac by the bedside. During those months, she discovered Youtube, than LiveVideo and other social websites.
Before she introduced me to these websites, the time I spent online was for the purpose research or reading political blogs. I initially viewed social websites as Toyland. Something to be played with; something that could be tossed aside.
I could not have been more mistaken.
In this Space people's inner selves break free with or without consciousness. Who you are online can be who you really are, because everything here is unfettered.
You can open your eyes and see the Other and yourself in glorious imperfection. And be happy about it.
It's wonderful. Limitless. The potential is mindbogglingly exciting.
PS. Say "mindbogglingly" three times real fast. | | | | 24 Views | 8 Thumbs Up | 5 Comments | |
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| | He Says Horseshit, She Says Bullshit | | | | Tuesday, November 10, 2009 (8:17 PM) | | I joined the soccer league because those girls looked kinda cute being all butchy. The first thing Coach taught us was... "If ya can't get to the ball, kick the shit outta the other girl's shins!"
We practiced kicking shins. ( Looking back, I think that Coach had some ethical problems goin' on. Really, what kind of shit is that to teach 12 year olds?)
A shining red sedan picked me up after soccer practice. Given the glamor of the auto, I figured my father had borrowed another car. He loved to impress his wife with nice rides; she ignored the fact that she was driven about in stolen status.
Valets didn't notice.
*****
The driver excused himself from our restaurant table to make a phone call. I guess he didn't know that his conversation echoed from the small hall where he stood throughout the restaurant.
It's a soccer player's dream to hear "Don't give me Horseshit, you sonovvabitch. If you give me Horseshit, I'll come over there and rip your fuckin eyes out of your fuckin head. No Horseshit! You understand!?"
Those words echoing about a fine restaurant embarrassed his other passenger, apparently. As my father sat down, she whispered "Everyone heard you. Bloody nice, Dave. That was bloody nice. And why must you say 'Horseshit?' Can't you say Bullshit, like a normal person? You sound like a hick saying 'Horseshit.'"
He smiled and said "Bullshit." They laughed.
I knew I was the luckiest soccer player.
The following day, I kicked shit out of some girl's shins, because I'm a fucking team player. | | | | 38 Views | 9 Thumbs Up | 5 Comments | |
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| | Lucille's Head, Part I | | | | Saturday, October 24, 2009 (3:12 PM) | | Lucille achieved her dreams by the age of 28. It took several years more before she realized that tragedy. By all appearances, she was content. Well employed, well dressed, well housed. She was an exceptionally good nodder; naturally she was resoundingly well liked. Everyone loves a good nod.
Inside Lucille's head, she knew she was one ticket away from the crazy bus. If the special set of circumstances occurred, she would snatch that ticket and hop that bus and all hell would break loose. Occasionally, she envisioned that scene, and sometimes she longed for it. (When the special circumstances occurred, the sheer simplicity of it was unexpected, though).
A short slide over an ice patch did the trick. She had exited the train at her usual stop at the usual time; made her usual purchase of a small, black coffee and began her usual short trek along the city sidewalk toward her office. The walkway had been cleared of snow and salted, but her right foot set upon an unsalted patch and she slid forward about two feet. She did not fall; she wobbled a bit until she regained her footing. The coffee slipped from her hand and hit the ground, her shoulder bag dropped heavily onto her crooked elbow. Even before her eyes moved upward from gazing down at the shattered coffee cup, Lucille snapped. She sat down, dumped the contents of her bag between her extended legs and smashed the shit out of her cell phone using her Blackberry. Then she hacked the Blackberry to pieces using a large key. She opened her wallet and flung every photo and plastic card onto the snow bank. (She jammed the cash into her coat pocket: she wasn't completely psychotic). She flung the wallet aside. When she stood, she stomped the bag a few times before heading to her new destination. | | | | 32 Views | 8 Thumbs Up | 5 Comments | |
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| | Sonnet 116 | | | | Tuesday, October 20, 2009 (6:08 PM) | |
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alterations finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
~ William Shakespeare | | | | 28 Views | 6 Thumbs Up | 4 Comments | |
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| | OH My President, I Love Him So | | | Sunday, October 11, 2009 (10:19 AM)
(I'm feeling hopeful) | | I will not waiver in my commitment to ending discrimination in all its forms. ~ President Barack Obama, HRC Speech, October 10, 2009
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| | Huge Kate | | | | Sunday, October 4, 2009 (2:18 PM) | | Kate was enormous to my six year old eyes. She towered above me. I thought she was six feet tall and six feet wide. She had short dark hair and wild eyes. None of the other kids would go anywhere near her. The little assholes made fun of her because they feared her. I was intrigued as I passed by each day going to and from school. I wondered why she did not go to school.
Her mother hovered nearby, always. Kate was allowed to play near her patio; her mother stepped out to check on her every quarter hour. The day I approached that patio, Kate was sitting cross-legged, playing jacks. I sat down to play (I kicked her ass). Kate was smiling when her mother rushed out with a surprised expression.
You're playing jacks with Kate? she said. Her mother surveyed me, and I saw that distinct look of utter joy cross her face. What's your name? she asked. I'm Deborah, Kate's friend. Kate continued to pick up jacks. Her mother leaned over, placed her hands on her knees, she said Do you like kool-aide, Deborah? Would you like some grape kool-aide?
Grape kool-aide is the best! I answered. Huge Kate grinned. Her mother rushed inside to get our refreshments.
Kate continued to play jacks. Her mother beamed as I gathered my things to leave.
Kate's mother asked if I would stop by again, and I told her I would come by each day after school. | | | | 52 Views | 8 Thumbs Up | 6 Comments | |
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