9/11?

So I feel like I have to comment but I'm not even sure what to say . . . everything is cliche. Or maybe I want really to say the opposite of all the cliche things?

I think mostly today of the families that lost someone . . .

It sucks that the events of that day have gotten us into wars in multiple countries since then

and turned our society suspiciously against itself ...

made our foreign affairs into a crusade for the religion of the "free"

But no one can be free when there is war in their homeland
And still no peace exists there
Despite many lives given on both--every--side

So I hope for the future

May I one day live in a world in which we truly care for each human...feed their needs and heal each wound, seen and unseen

I hope I see it

Being a Blogger

As the word "Blogosphere" has found it's word into our vocabulary, those of us who live here have come to understand the world of instant dialogue, of being held accountable for what you say, of public scrutiny . . . we bloggers put ourselves in the fishbowl, inviting others to look into our little worlds, and inevitably form opinions . . .

People have taken different approaches. Many friends now have private blogs, or review comments before publishing them . . . I do not. Just as I breastfeed without a cover, I blog without a cover, too. I believe in the power of words--that they show truth, in more than what is written, but in what isn't written, what isn't said; and in more: why they are written, the story behind the sentence, the emotion behind the judgement. It's all there for the perceptive reader.

It is important to me that I can stand to face the aftermath, that I am accountable for what I say and that I can defend it with logic and reason in the face of scrutiny. (And honestly I feel slightly bad for those who have been unlucky enough to raise my ire, hahaha.)

Anyway, my previous post about balance reminded me of my favorite poem. Sad I am that I must present it here without it's actual formatting, because that is one of my favorite things about it.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti, on the balancing act of the writer . . .

Constantly risking absurdity
and death
whenever he performs
above the heads
of his audience
the poet like an acrobat
climbs on rime
to a high wire of his own making
and balancing on eyebeams
above a sea of faces
paces his way
to the other side of the day
performing entrachats
and sleight-of-foot tricks
and other high theatrics
and all without mistaking
any thing
for what it may not be
For he's the super realist
who must perforce perceive
taut truth
before the taking of each stance or step
in his supposed advance
toward that still higher perch
where Beauty stands and waits
with gravity
to start her death-defying leap
And he
a little charleychaplin man
who may or may not catch
her fair eternal form
spreadeagled in the empty air
of existence

Old School Sunday: Tent Life

If you haven't heard about my blog series "Old School Sunday", read the back story!

And if you want, catch up on what you missed (read from the bottom up!)

Getting to the end of the spring semester of my sophomore year of college . . . we had started a tent city on the campus green in protest of the "War on Terror" invasion of Iraq. We started out there as soon as we went in, March 19th, and we stayed out there for the rest of the semester . . . we might have even done it again in the fall, I forget (maybe we'll find out! Hehe).

Anyway, my poem about tent life . . .

10th April 2003
4:29pm
Current Mood: grateful
Current Music: Radiohead--2+2=5

We started this tent city in protest
A protest against the destruction of life
But I feel our purpose here has changed.
Every moment a reaffirmation
Of what life is.

I denounce your television
I denounce your stereo
I denounce your perfumes
I denounce your wardrobe
I denounce your money
(the millions spent on nothing,
billions paid and earned on wars of destruction)
I denounce your petty capitalist materialism

For this earth holds joys beyond your dollars
I denounce your ability to buy happiness
(war for peace)
I claim this happiness on behalf of the people
the animals
the trees the plants
the rocks the mountains
the skies the grounds

I claim this happiness and I will share it
for free
If you try to pay me I will laugh (priceless!)
If you try to kill me I will laugh (worthless!)

One Month Into Therapy . . .

things are movin and shakin. keep cryin like it's being pulled out by God himself. healing hurts--cry as it washes past. last goodbye to those haunting whispers and still more flow and flow--it's a river of goodbye but i'm clean in the end, i'm clean.

Old School Sunday: One Entry by Norm and One About Him

If you haven't heard about my new blog series "Old School Sunday", read the back story!

And if you want, catch up on what you missed (read from the bottom up!)

The middle of the spring semester of my sophomore year--we were on the cusp of invading Iraq, the harsh winter was finally ending, and I was dating Norm at the time. Here's a poem by him and a post by me about him (hehe).

10th February 2003
9:42am: Norm's Poem

THE CROSS

The birds
The birds
we've seen them flying
we know they fly south
we wish we could be like them
too cold
go south
that easy
we've seen them flying
flying
flying
in a V
in a W
mostly in V's
for N V
envy
N V how they just fly south
envy
but
butt
buttocks
to interject
these birds
who's northern home
Mirror Lake
most people find disgusting bla bla bla bla bla
these birds
will
not
fly
south
these birds will not fly south
it's been too cold to bear
too cold to speak
too cold to breathe
for months now
but
these birds
will not fly south
Months ago I remember screaming at them
"FLY SOUTH!"
"FLY SOUTH!"
people stared at me as though I was the fool
but
but
I was simply afraid
because
I have always been told
I have always seen
I have always known
That when it gets cold
The Birds
fly south
but
these birds
will not
fly south
some days ago
a friend of mine expressed the same concerns
why?
why?
won't the birds fly south?
don't they get cold?
there's hardly any non-frozen lake left bla bla bla bla bla
and then
just days ago
I was told of the one
the one
and today
in passing
I saw the one
feet planted straight
back fully bent back fully bent back fully bent back fully bent back
only feet away from the small pool
where the birds
who still do not fly south
swim
and chant
head and wings on the cold surface
crucified
it died
in glory
and the name of order
and madness
and the hammer that smashes them both
like cracking ice


5:56pm
Current Mood: dichotomous

I don't even know what I want to say.

Complacency causes laziness <--- in Psych, we call this a directional theory. As in, you have to prove not only that complacency and laziness are related, but that one CAUSES the other. With that said. Complacency is what I think of as the Lack of a "fear factor". A fear factor, in my mind, is the fear that the person that you love will fall out of love with you. The fear factor causes people to get up in the morning to brush their teeth, so when their lover kisses them in the morning, they get a fresh clean mouth. The fear factor causes people to watch their weight, to shave, to shower, to dress nicely, to speak nicely, to do favors, to be attentive, etc etc etc. Complacency is the comfortableness of the lack of a fear factor. Complacency is knowing that your lover will not leave you--they love you too much. Complacency in itself is not bad. But what is bad is that without the FEAR FACTOR, people get lazy. I'm not saying I am not guilty of this. I am. But with all that said: SHAVE NORM YOU MOTHERFUCKER