Wednesday, November 26, 2008


I read a bit recently that described thanks as gratitude for that which one did not earn (to which I would also attach, 'deserve'). In my mind, this perfectly fits the Pilgrim's myth which we iterate each year at this time: the benevolent stranger gives the weary passenger a bed, a roof, and a loaf of bread. The myth survives (I hope), because it still occurs. Those without obvious merit and means are given means without regard for merit.

For my own part, I know that I owe much to the charity of friends and strangers. Strangers have saved my life on many occasions. One man out of thousands rescued me from the side of a highway and brought me home. One man pulled me out of the road before a truck passed. One asked me to wait; and another to hurry. I have countless times been guided by the vision of others who had the opportunity to see the world in ways which I could not and the wisdom and goodwill to advise me a better course.

It's easiest to imagine the most dramatic of these little salvations, because they etch themselves so easily into memory; but I fear that I forget the more important thanks which ought be offered to those who toil beneath the obvious.

We are spiders upon a great web, spun and spinning by all those we know; traversing it as though we were the maker.

Monday, November 24, 2008

out of mind of sight

Self-consciousness is generally loathsome, though it doesn't stop me from trepidating on its doorstep, flirting with it constantly behind my eyelids.  In one sense, the whole of my existence is a barbaric wrestle with regret.  Skipping from one medication to the next in the endless psychopharmicological pursuit of a cure to this rotating polarity in my brain, I feel at all times nervous about the state of my emotions.  I am, after all, a creature more emotional than rational; though I do with my best intentions try to reason my way through the emotional cloud.

Quick to anger and sadness and despair and slow to peace and quiet.  The world within my head only distantly mirrors the world through which I walk, yet the two are so separate, so real, and so indistinguishable to me that I find myself in constant worried tension over the viability of my beliefs.  In the end, I must always believe something; and it seems necessary to believe that which feels most true.  After the excesses of over rationalization have begun to spoil by the curb, there remains only one faint handle by which to pull myself up: a gut instinct, a hunch, an irrational feeling.

Just as the warmth of a cup of coffee will influence my emotional state, my emotional state is always in bitter siege of my reason.  That I say, with frequency too embarrassing to confess, things which are wrong (logically, ethically or practically) is true; but that I always very nearly believe myself in these moments to be the most reasoned, the most disciplined, the most sane is the great sadness.  To exist in a constant state of waking from a falsehood, a falsehood which seemed too compelling to be anything but absolute and true.

In the absence of  strong emotions, my mind is clear; and I, at least, feel that I appear to be normal.  The overpowering fear persistent within these moments is that my illusions persist.

Feelings are like tides, and the tides have me lost at sea.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

i pity them

family is a strange thing. this is overly generic. family is an evolved concept, evolved out of necessity for the preservation of species. it is both a biological connection between generations and a social grouping, collecting different biological chains together into one label. this can be extraordinarily useful as members of the group assist the survival of each other.

it becomes problematic when members of the same species begin to evolve family as a means of competition for survival among members of the same species. we begin to see communication barriers between groups when the group differs according to loose labels like 'race' or 'orientation' or 'gender'.

the more evolved realize that survival requires codependence. no one creature can endure without the mutual support of others. the less evolved recoil at the thought of intra-group communication. to them, the infidels must die and the righteous must rise.

to the other side, dialog is an abomination. the only course is the fire.

Friday, November 21, 2008

License to *hit

The subject of the latest email from Dean. Indulging him:

Blogging with mythological imagination impregnated by poorly informed historical imagination.

Rhetoric in cloaks of ignorance bleeds out of hovels of supposed intelligentsia.

Does anyone hear the tree (in this case bramble) falling in the woods?

The death of reason personified. Hope left as a vagrant in the streets. Transcendence lost in triviality.

The invisible mute Grandpa has spoken.

The sick irony of the phrase 'death of reason' is my profound desire to apprehend what is True in this world. In arguing for rational debate, I am somehow offensive to his sensibilities. I am willing to dialog with anyone on any subject in the hopes of better understanding their point of view, but I guess Jesus was a conservative Republican. After all, Jesus hated blacks and homosexuals, so we should too.

If I recall, the 11th Commandment was Thou shalt not be a liberal, for it is an abomination to God.

I am not a Christian, and that gives me the freedom to try to seek out Truth instead of blindly believing scriptures that are profoundly dangerous and false. If the only framework in which Dean is comfortable arguing a point is behind the ignorance of his own beliefs, he has my blessing to remain blissfully mute.

I am always open to the possibility that I am wrong and will gladly accept correction when available; however, it must be informed and reasoned discipline that guides our search.

Monday, November 10, 2008


It's strange that in the largest (and first) economic crisis of our century, the streets are calm and the crowds quiet.  Entire countries' economies have collapsed in the past few months.  Within the U.S., every investment bank has collapsed.  We no longer have a single investment bank in our borders.  Almost all of the central banks are both hoarding money and hemoraging assets.  Global companies are shutting down.  DHL, GM, Ford.  Retailers are rotting from the inside.  Commercial paper is scarce, inter bank lending is still largely frozon, and everyone with assets is terrified.

This terror somehow escapes the average American.  Unemployment rises each day, yet panic is the furthest thing from our minds.  Some of us are conscious of the looming giant but are incapable of doing anything about it.  Others blissfully walk the streets, unaware that the sky is prepared to swallow them whole.

The illusion of security is still relatively strong.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

full disclosure

never before and never since have I awoken with the force of another man's fist in my face.  there is a time, in my past, when I woke to the blurred forms of socks filled with soap and padlocks flying toward my restrained form.  there is no one to hear that scream.

when one can bleed in the view of the public, and when the public chooses to ignore the bloody masses...

all fuck has gone to fuck, excuse my german.

Friday, November 7, 2008

the folly of age

My brother, Timothy, wise beyond his years, hipped me to an email conversation with our grandparents.  I consider it worth reading.

I can't speak for him, but I've never been particularly close to them.  Dean is impossible to talk to, through no inherent fault of his own; he simply chooses not to engage in lengthy conversations.  I've only rarely spoken to Naomi.  As my relationship with them has been so limited, it would be prudent to disclose that I do not truly know them; I know of them, and I've heard some of their life stories as told by other family members; but I have no direct relationship with these stories.

That said, when you get an email with Obama Photoshopped onto the body of a man shining Sarah Palin's shoes, with a personal note, "Best picture of Palin yet!", it's difficult not to think, "Racism?".  Perhaps they didn't intend the picture as a racist attack on an African American, but to submit an objectively racist picture of anyone to a group via email in ignorance of the context of the photo is as damning in my mind as having done it deliberately.

I'm emotionally agnostic towards them.  I'm not angry with their potential hatred of blacks or homosexuals or anyone else not like them; but I am angry with the population this belief pattern represents.  It's a group dedicated to the proliferation of injustice, and I wish it weren't a part of America--or perhaps, I wish this group weren't so loudly perched on America's shoulder.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

a comment on comments

It's too early (by the pundint's reconing) to call, but I've had my first comment.

This is monumental.  This is big.

As always, though I have no readers; my call remains the same:

Read something.  Anything.  Possibly twice.

burning bush

the agony of waiting for it all to end

Saturday, November 1, 2008

over the hill and through the woods

there is always a time when we must choose how much evil we are willing to support to affect good.