Ectothermal

Hey, Thanks Everybody!

2005-11-24T17:37:00.000-08:00

Be thankful that our country is spending money on the war in Iraq to the tune of 3.2 billion dollars a week.
Be thankful that our current president has created enough hatred for the U.S. to create new terrorists for generations.
Be thankful that more soldiers have died in Iraq than civilians died in the World Trade Center.
Be thankful that President Bush has cut spending on first responders in order to give more funding to an illegal war.
Be thankful that our country has covert torture chambers in several countries.
Be thankful for the tragedy averted in New Orleans.
Be thankful for an administration that outs undercover CIA operatives in an effort to squelch whistleblowers.
Be thankful for ever rising gas prices.
Be thankful that oil companies have made RECORD PROFITS this year, at times raking in A MILLION DOLLARS A DAY.
Be thankful that oil companies assure us there is no price gauging going on.
Be thankful for pending drilling in the Alaska pipeline.
Be thankful that our government has wisely chosen to cut veterans benefits and food stamps.
Be thankful that Roe V. Wade will probably be overturned in our lifetime.
Be thankful that Republicans control every branch of government.
Be thankful that criminality and corruption is rampant within our current administration.
Be thankful that nearly ALL of our news sources are owned and operated by 5 rich white guys (republicans).
Be thankful for FOX "news," and its unbiased, centrist news coverage.
Be thankful for an ever-shrinking middle class, and an ever growing working class.
Be thankful that the richest of the rich are getting the tax breaks they so justly deserve.
Be thankful that the house and senate have passed legislation - literally written by the credit card companies - that will make declaring bankruptcy a near impossibility in the U.S.
Be thankful that we're the only industrialized superpower without universal health care.
Be thankful for AIDS, which is now old enough to legally purchase alcohol.
Be thankful that our government steadfastly refuses to acknowledge global warming.
Be thankful for useless abstinence-only education taking the place of safer-sex education for kids.
Be thankful for intelligent design and no child left behind.
Be thankful that our administration has paid off news personnel to propagandize its initiatives.
Be thankful for Red States.
Be thankful for Diebold voting machines and Diebold's refusal to share their source code.
Be thankful for the new wave of Christian Totalitarianism in the United States.
Be thankful for the disintegrating separation between Church and State.
Be thankful for holy wars.
Be thankful that the partnership between corporations and politicians has never been better.
Finally, be thankful for all of the lies and deception perpetrated by our Republican regime that has led us to this wonderful place - the U.S.A. in 2005!

Economy :: Value Studies

2005-11-16T17:10:00.000-08:00

He knows if he drinks himself past a certain threshold, he'll start perceiving himself an interesting person. So interesting that someone in this restaurant or in the street should get involved with his subjectivity.... Jesse has become economical about giving himself ugly memories.

-Gary Indiana Dreams Involving Water

Humor: Laughter heals my psychological traumas and softens my heart.
Intuition: The insights offered up by the mind and body are subtle but vital.
Personal Growth: Growth is my rest and my recreation. I need it to feel alive.
Love: I need to connect to people to make everything else meaningful. I easily forget this.
Beauty: I value it, despite my intellectual resistance to feeling "shallow." To hell with that. I am happiest when I feel it and experience it.
Exploration: It is okay to visit unhealthy places, but I don't want to live in any of them.

Simplicity: It is liberating to let go of physical things, habits and vestigial values.
Honoring the Self: Staying in a safe but unhappy job is the slow leak of the soul.
Creativity: I am plugged directly into the bliss of the Universe when I am creating something.
Learning: I am plugged directly into the bliss of the Universe when I am learning.
Perversion: I am plugged directly into the bliss of the Universe when I am creating something strange and arresting.

Enjoyment: I am plugged directly into the bliss of the Universe witness another person's creation of something strange and arresting.
Physicality and Consciousness: The dreaming mind can and often does bridge these two realities, harmonizing them and allowing them to communicate with each other. This is a powerful inroad to health and wellness.
Action: I am prone to hesitation, and need to move quickly from wanting to doing.
Imperfection: I am prone to hesitation because I expect myself to produce something outstanding immediately. Rough sketches are important. Sucking terribly must be honored.
Frustration: My frustration is a gift. Its power is to alert me to unsatisfied expectations. Through frustration, I can let go of vestigial expectations, or purposefully refocus my attentions.

Meaning: Meaning is by far more important to me than pleasure or power. Pleasure is a distant second.
Bigotry: I am right in feeling rage toward it, and it is my right to confront it, even when it is not aimed at me, and especially when I discover it in myself.
Haste: I have to fight a predisposition to rush, to expect things more quickly than is possible, and to focus too intently on ultimate goals. I must learn to enjoy the small steps; ultimately, I believe they are more important.
Security: Is a lie. Money is no substitute for a life well lived.
Introversion: Is healthy for me and nothing to be ashamed of.

A Questioning Mind: Is a quick road to a sense of aliveness and awakens enchantment.
Compassion: I value and admire it in people. It can be cultivated, and shouldn't be assumed to exist naturally.
Non-interference: Being with people where they are, and enjoying them as they are is a great skill and a terrific challenge.
Focus: Maintaining a sense of unhurried presence is probably my greatest weakness, and I lose focus sometimes to cope with life. Focusing on this will amplify many other strengths in my life.
Passion: I am often afraid of it, and need to learn how to give in to it and not treat it as a cerebral thing. I need to remember the body. This is a weakness second only to Focus above.

There is probably more than this, but this is a good start for me.

Vices :: Virtues :: Habits

2005-11-13T18:01:00.000-08:00

It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues.

-Abraham Lincoln

It is becoming increasingly important to me to feel as though I have done something, have contributed some part of myself to the world I want to see come to life. It is disturbing to me even to write this, since I have a hard time describing what that world is.

I have (several times) tried to make my way through "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" or something similar. I always stall out in trying to define that all important set of values by which I want to live my life. Why?

I'm fickle. What if I change my mind? What if I have a set of values and realize on my deathbed that they've all been wrong, and then my "real" values only come to light in the last five minutes of life. I'm pretty sure that would be a total, albeit shortlived, bummer.

Seems kind of - I don't know - Pollyanna or something, doesn't it?

Conceptualizing one's values in a vacuum seems unnatural. At what point do our values take over? "I stand for X, therefore I feel I must do Y." My values are fluid, situational, conditional. Clearly, I can write out a value statement that encompasses all these things, but do I really want to write a novel-length value statement? I mean, writing this down is only step one. That leaves six more steps! Picture it: "Hey, how's the 7 habits thing going?"

"Hey thank you for asking. I'm on step 4. You can get a sense of my progress by reviewing the set of bound volumes on this bookshelf here... I'm particularly happy with volumes eight and nine. Volume 10 should still be considered a rough draft at this point.

But I've got to do something. I'm feeling a void where meaning should be in my life.

Sing Walls

2005-11-12T17:18:00.000-08:00

Grendel, Grendel! You make the world by whispers, second by second. Are you blind to that? Whether you make it a grave or a garden of roses is not the point. Feel the wall: is it not hard? He smashes me against it, breaks open my forehead. Hard, yes! Observe the hardness, write it down in careful runes. Now sing of walls! Sing!

I howl.

Sing!

"I'm singing!"

Sing words! Sing raving hymns!

"You're crazy. Ow!"

Sing!

"I sing of walls," I howl. "Hooray for the hardness of walls!"

Terrible, he whispers. Terrible. He laughs and lets out fire.

"You're crazy," I say. "If you think I created that wall that cracked my head, you're a fucking lunatic."

Sing walls,he hisses.

I have no choice.

~John Gardner, Grendel

Strange fact: I received two poems by email this week.

I'm trying to follow Ray Bradbury's advice to read a poem or bit of literary art every day. I just started, and already the Universe has reciprocated by sending me two original works through the internet. One is a poem from a dear friend, who sent a poetic interpretation of a poem I sent her. Another, an unsolicited poem from a relative stranger I have only met online. A beautiful, lyrical work that may be a song - I am not sure. It could be a song. I'm embarassed to say that I had to look up several of the words in the poem. The guy who wrote it appears to be many years my junior, too. I don't know why I feel like younger people (than me) should have a more limited vocabulary. Certainly, it's a nonsensical expectation.

Dave and I went out and trolled the bars on Cap. Hill last night, smoked & drank and chatted up some of the local cuties. It was fun, but I am completely destroyed today. I overdid it - I think the cigarettes were the real culprit, although I did have quite a few "lite" beers and one shot of Wild Turkey. My ears were hot and red all night. I should know that when my ears turn red it is time to switch to water. I need to pay better attention to my ears.

On the bright side I didn't make a sloppy pass at someone or pass my phone number out to everyone I met. (I've done both of these things on other occassions, much to my later embarassment.) So I think I'll be switching back to iced tea and poetry for the next 6 months or so, until that old urge to poison my liver comes back.

2005-11-11T17:56:00.000-08:00

Nobody was really saying anything of interest, she fell asleep
She was into S&M and bible studies
Not everyone's cup of tea she would admit to me

~Belle & Sebastian
"If You're Feeling Sinister"

I got soaked to the bone on my walk today, but in a strange way it put me in pretty high spirits. The dog and I get along swimmingly. Uninspired and groggy. The constant patter of rain is making me drowsy.

Where's Dave? I need to kiss somebody.

2005-11-10T21:19:00.000-08:00

It is many years now that this one moment sucked the air from me. That some small serpent that had been asleep in my head shifted and shook, then rattled its tail against the backs of my eyes. The heat in me recoiled, and when I was completely frozen, a volley of blunt-tipped arrows trembled through and shattered me.

I was a collection of shards walking around the gloaming city. In an instant I had grown something thin and elastic to hold all the pieces together, but I could feel them gnashing at their new faults. I was loose gravel in a spinning net, dropping grit and gristle where I walked.

Aren't I dead? Didn't I die back there? Perhaps I don't yet realize I'm dead. Perhaps my consciousness turned away at the wrong moment; or I didn't notice the sheet being pulled over my head; or I didn't feel my energetic self split from my body.

Isn't the light different? Hasn't the color of the world changed?

In time the pieces have fused together, but I still feel the constriction of this invisible fascia in which I am wrapped. Its purpose as a protective organ is gone. Capillaries lap and pulse at every surface, and my pink skin riddles at this opressive sheath that permits so little sensation.

I need to sweat and wriggle out. I need to feel the touch of your skin, the ribs and ridges of your fingertips, the burgundy depressions where your teeth just bit me, where your mouth - so warm - grips and grins at my chest.

Your warm palms and this breeze.

The ridges of your laughter.

The slight -- magnetic -- arc of your skin.

These shards of sunlight bounce from the water to dance across all of it, turning each insignificant spot to gold for just a moment.

My liberal coworker is broadcasting conservative hate email. WTF?

2005-11-10T08:04:00.000-08:00

Today's quote is lengthy, but oh so good.
The Fury of Abandonment
~Anne Sexton

Someone lives in a cave
eating his toes,
I know that much.
Someone little lives under a bush
pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against
his starving bloated stomach,
I know that much.
A monkey had his hands cut off
for a medical experiment
and his claws wept.
I know that much.

I know that it is all
a matter of hands.
Out of the mournful sweetness of touching
comes love
like breakfast.
Out of the many houses come the hands
before the abandonment of the city,
out of the bars and shops
a thin file of ants.

I've been abandoned out here
under the dry stars
with no shoes, no belt
and I've called Rescue Inc. --
that old-fashioned hot line --
no voice.
Left to my own lips, touch them,
my own dumb eyes, touch them,
the progression of my parts, touch them,
my own nostrils, shoulders, breasts,
navel, stomach, mound, kneebone, ankle,
touch them.

It makes me laugh
to see a woman in this condition.
It makes me laugh for America and New York City
when your hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone.

A coworker of mine has begun to send me strange right-wing email. The kind of crap that just gets forwarded around the globe over and over. These email messages include references to whining liberals and capital "G" god, and one even suggests that any immigrants who are not willing to speak English should be deported.

These email messages are disturbing for quite a few reasons.

I've had quite a few leftie conversations with her and she's agreed wholeheartedly with me.
She's black, and up until now, I've always thought, progressive.
I think she truly assumes I agree with the sentiments expressed in these messages.
I think she may actually think these messages are progressive, or she's forwarding these politically charged things without reading them?
Forwarding messages like that is asinine no matter what.
Since when is it appropriate to send insulting political shit around to your coworkers?

So the last message I got from her I just wrote back and said that I don't really think that people who choose not to speak English should be deported. She hasn't spoken to me since.

Old Propellers

2005-11-09T22:37:00.000-08:00

The light wraps you in its mortal flame.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twilight
that revolves around you.

~Pablo Neruda

More later.

Synchronicity

2005-11-08T22:42:00.000-08:00

A coworker reminded me today of a conversation we had recently about
synchronicity. She reminded me that I had been talking a while ago
about incidents of synchronicity seem to appear in one's life as a sign
that they are on an appropriate or meaningful path.

This in itself was synchronicity for me, because I've had 3 separate
feelings of deja vu today, the day after starting to write again. The
deja vu was slightly disorienting - it was that powerful. Her mention
of synchronicity seemed to come out of nowhere - it was truly unrelated
to our conversation at the time.

Arrowheads :: Hitting a Cop :: Red Construction Paper Hearts

2005-11-08T20:32:00.000-08:00

"Somebody made this arrowhead. It had a creator long ago. This arrowhead is the only proof of his existence. Living things can also be seen as artifacts, designed for a purpose. So perhaps the human artifact had a creator. Perhaps a stranded space traveler needed the human vessel to continue his journey, and he made it for that purpose ? he died before he could use it ? He found another escape route ? This artifact , shaped to fill a forgotten need, now has no more meaning or purpose than this arrowhead without the arrow, and the bow, the arm and the eye. Or perhaps, the human artifact was the creator's last card, played in an old game many light-years ago. Chill of empty space…" -William Burroughs, The Place of Dead Roads

Last night I dreamed one of my brothers was a police officer. I had a run of bad luck and needed to move in with him until I could get back on my feet. Unfortunately, he didn't have a spare bedroom, so I was staying in his living room.

It became clear pretty quickly that my brother didn't trust me. He kept watching me, even sneaking into the living room in the middle of the night to watch me sleep. Naturally, I began to feel really oppressed.

Finally, I flipped out and started yelling at him, "You're waiting for me to break the law, so here you go, how about assaulting the police?" And I punched him.

He started yelling at me; I don't remember exactly what he was saying.

The dream most likely echoes my general feeling that I have a pretty nasty reputation with my family. I am distant. I refuse their offers to pay for me to fly back home to visit them. What can I say? It's true. I am distant because I feel distant. They continue to try to get me to reconnect certain familial elements, but those feelings are gone, and I won't pretend I can rekindle them. Being honest about this feeling is far, far more offensive to them than lying to them would be, but I won't be pressured in that way.

I also remember a part of another dream I had last night. I dreamed that a former friend of mine, Dan, had killed someone. A woman I think. The circumstances were peculiar, and it seemed pretty clear that this was a mercy killing, or an accident. Whatever it was, it didn't warrant the long sentence he received.

I was going to visit him in prison, but before I did, I stopped at his apartment to pick up his mail for him. His sister had sent him a homemade card, with hearts cut out of red construction paper, and pictures of their family dog (a yellow lab?) inside each of the hearts.

"I can't bring this to him," I thought. "That dog will be long dead before he gets out of prison. It will be too depressing for him." When I left his apartment I was suddenly back in my home town, walking away from the intersection near where I grew up. I was walking toward the main road. A train was gliding slowly through town, interrupting traffic. I didn't know where the prison was.

I was still carrying the card with the red construction paper hearts.

Writing and Being

2005-11-07T21:06:00.000-08:00

Something happens to me when I write. Thoughts crystallize for me in ways that they otherwise will not. There is something in the act of following a stream of words – of teasing out some linear progression of thoughts – that settles and focuses my mind in extraordinary ways. So I’m coming back to it. I will write.

I have been re-reading Ray Bradbury’s “Zen in the Art of Writing,” and I’m falling in love with it all over again. His clarity and his sensibility are beautiful. He writes:

Nothing is ever lost. If you have moved over vast territories and dared to love silly things, you will have learned even from the most primitive items collected and put aside in your life. From an ever-roaming curiosity in all the arts, from bad radio to good theater, from nursery rhyme to symphony, from jungle compound to Kafka’s Castle, there is basic excellence to be winnowed out, truths found, kept, savored, and used on some later day. To be a child of one’s time is to do all these things.

I am taking this advice to heart and trying to find or rekindle new loves. Real, live, human friends definitely, though it’s been hard to find them. Beyond friends, I’m expanding my scope for entertainment, and trying to rediscover some of the basic pleasures I seem to have forgotten over the past few years. Music. Anime. Erotica. All good for starters. But I have a feeling I’ll soon be discovering more – things that have remained outside of my grasp until now. I am inviting them into my life; I am watching for them.

Since I’ve made this commitment, I’ve begun having intensely vivid dreams again.