Tag: politics

The Lost Month

February was a lost month.  I was under water.  Now everyone is hailing spring and I’m wondering where my winter went?  There was a dust of snow and a frisson of frost that limned my hair and lit the dark.  The third draft is thoroughly trashing my ass and I have to declare the match a complete K.O. for the draft.  My back is broke and I wonder if I’ve given the best I have already or if there’s more to milk from my shady head?

Today my boy started medication for his anxiety and every surface feeling is roughed but underneath my sadness and my own anxiety I know that this is the least dangerous course to take.  I’ve asked him if I may continue to discuss his mental health issues on my blog and he asks me why I wouldn’t – I tell him that some people like to keep these things private and that he’s at an age where I feel this is his choice to make, not mine.  I have his blessing.  At least for now.  If he changes his mind I will honor it but I can’t help feeling pride in his attitude that this is just the shit we crazy people deal with and there’s nothing here to be ashamed of.

Every time he suffers the same as I’ve suffered I feel shame for having brought him here.  It isn’t a case of luck of the draw, it’s a case of genetics.  The map was always there if only I’d looked before I chose to bring someone into the world.

I’m trying to wipe that whole chalkboard of graffiti clean.  His medication is an SSRI and my own quality of life has been so vastly improved by taking SSRIs that I indulge in hopes that this will help him too.

Can’t help but be scared.

Meanwhile – I’m sick to death of this country stripping funds from health care and education.  What’s happening in Wisconsin is shocking and disgusting.  You can’t keep stripping money from education and expect it to get better just because you make testing a focus of the curriculum.  I’m sick of stupid people in this country deciding how best to educate our children.  I’ve known a lot of teachers and I’ve known very few who weren’t working their asses off to make the best of what they had.  The education of people isn’t, in my opinion, just teaching them their numbers and letters as Laura Ingalls Wilder’s mother taught them.  Critical thinking can’t be taught by people who don’t know how to think critically.  The teachers who’ve worked with my kid have been amazing.  I can only name two who didn’t like Max and who gave him a real raw deal.  The rest of them have bent over backwards to help my special needs kid succeed, this is without an active 504 plan.

Educators are the backbone of any strong civilization.

I’m also angry about GMOs.

I’m also really put off by Lady Gaga’s meat dress.  That’s old news but I’m not sure I mentioned that before.

The food trend of mega-meat eating is tiresome.  Bacon is still hot but now it’s really important that you include it in every meal with other meat.  Bacon is a meat condiment.  Blood pasta (pasta made with pig’s blood), trotters (can’t believe I know what this is), pork wrapped in more pork, steak stuffed chicken, steak stuffed with pork and wrapped in fois gras.  I get it, there’s a big fat back-lash against the growing vegetarian rhetoric, but enough is too much!

Fashion is experiencing the same back lash in the form of hideous furs everywhere you look but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

What if I’m only a second draft quality writer?

Whatever.

We all have our place.

Mine is in bed.

Wild Horses and the Boyfriend Pariah

The only reason I’m writing at this moment is because I need something to do while I listen to “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones.  You should know that I’m not actually a huge Rolling Stones fan.  I like a few of their songs.  But especially this one.  Wild Horses.  I’m not actually sure if the boyfriend or the song came first.

I am reminded of one of my early boyfriends.  We’ll call him Dave.  It is the veriest coincidence that his name is actually Dave.

I’m wondering if he’s dead.  I think not.  He was an imperious Capricorn who at the tender age of (whatever his age was) already knew that he didn’t appreciate his girlfriends applying fresh lipstick right before he picks them up at Bart station if they’re going to use that as an excuse not to kiss him.  People that commanding don’t just die.  They’re the ones that outlive the rest of us reprobates.

I can never read a horoscope that suggests Capricorns shouldn’t date each other for the sheer boredom without thinking about Dave, the only Capricorn I ever dated.

This song brings Dave to mind.  I can no longer remember whether it was a song on my own walkman or whether he played it on his record player.  (Remember those?)

When I listen to this song I remember feeling completely heart broken by how good it was.  I remember wishing Dave would shut up so I could melt away into the song with my lipstick and my paper and pen in peace.  I remember him being annoyed because I was more interested in listening to the song than to him.

I would have been annoyed with me too.

I don’t know what poems I wrote to this song.  I know that if I was truly masochistic I could spend an exhausting number of hours scouring through my old notebooks to find them.  It would only depress me to see what crap they were, so I’ll float along on memory and pretend they were really important and are lost to the great abyss of the moving van.

There was Amaretto.

I think I apologized to Mick Jagger for writing him off as a no-good slag rock singer.

I knew I would break up with Dave the minute he ordered me to kiss him in the parking lot at the Bart station.

Tonight I release these memories so that this song can be something new for me.

So strange to be thinking so much of old boyfriends this week.

I don’t mean Rufus Sewell, Jon Stewart, or Mathew Macfadyen.

I have no feeling of loss or poignant nostalgia about old boyfriends.  I have no idea why I seem to be congering them up this week.

We had snow last night.  It was beautiful!  It nearly all melted by 2pm today.  I watched unsticking flurries and it filled me with happiness.

I also returned to Kung Fu tonight.  I have to be very very careful of my calf but it was a mellow class where we practiced joint destruction and stick fighting.

It’s almost midnight and I just remembered I have to do a load of Max’s laundry.  So I was thinking while I loaded the machine up how I don’t believe that any of my ex-boyfriends remember me.  I have this idea that the minute I exited their lives I ceased to exist.  If you think about ceasing to exist for someone- it feels like being erased.

Of course I’m wrong because one of my ex-boyfriends tried to friend me on facebook.

I didn’t let him.  It felt like ghosts roiling up from the bottom of the ocean.

Not unsimilar to giant squids.

I’m listening to “Miss You” now.  Maybe I like The Stones more than I let on.

I have returned to my fantasy of leaving the country.

I think “tongue tickler” sounds dirty.

That’s something a food writer said to describe some appetizers.  Every part of me is itching to discuss this with the writer.  I am strong because I am Kung Fu.

I keep doing the Kung Fu.  Against the odds.

I AM the odds.

I’m going to take up the invitation to shoot an AK.  I am attracted to the fierce contrast to my nature that an AK represents.

Gun tease.

I think it must be good to be Mick Jagger.  I’m really happy I’m not having his baby.

I’ve heard a lot of people say “I’m not a political person” and I find I can’t respect a person who isn’t political because being alive on this planet requires any thinking caring conscious human being to be political.  I say this but I know that I will, tomorrow, realize that this is my ignorance pushing through.

Isn’t it?

Like when people tell me I can’t be a responsible American if I don’t read the news.  An accusation I have railed against.  Pushing at the machine.

I just don’t understand how a person can be alive and  not be political.

I also don’t understand how a person can be alive and not indulge in philosophy.  It’s not that I don’t understand how people can not share MY philosophy.  I understand being the opposition, but I don’t understand not taking one.

An attempt to dissolve unions, pushing GMO foods onto consumers with no requirement to label, corporate interests ruling all, corruption, laws, the crumbling of civil liberties… How can anyone not care about these things?

I respect my opposition for having a position even though I think they’re full of shit, obviously.  I have a really hard time respecting those with no position.

I need to plant a garden this spring.  Even if I don’t get to stay in this house.  It’s important.  If you have room to grow food you need to grow food.  Even if your life is transient.  Open pollinated varieties.  The earth is sickening and we must give it hope and vitality with our own hands.

I might have to move in a few months but I’ll be damned if I sit back and let good ground be wasted on lawn and weeds.  Growing your own food at this point in history is one of the most subversive and powerful things you can do if you insist on open pollinated varieties and don’t douse your precious ground with poisons.

The Rolling Stones have landed me exactly where I started.

I wish I could remember what color lipstick I put on when I got off of Bart.  It was almost certainly some dubious tube of Wet-n-Wild from Woolworth’s on Powell.

Whatever color it was, it kicked ass.

How To Vote

VOTE OR BE A DEADBEAT AMERICAN

My ballot has been sealed, my vote is cast.

If anyone is interested in knowing: I didn’t vote for the creepy Brocklehurst-style guy who looks like he carries a branch around with him to smack bad Christians with, I didn’t vote for the evil dude who previously voted against gay marriage, I didn’t vote for anyone who submitted a picture to the pamphlet that is obviously their former county jail mugshot.

I wasn’t very excited to vote this time around.  Until I sat down with the ballot and the pamphlet at which point my patriotism surfaced (voting is the only real act of a patriotic person in my opinion – fuck all that killing other people for your country evilness.  Voting is waving your flag.) and as it always does, I got pulled into the spirit of voting as I read the pamphlet.

Which, in case no one else is reading the pamphlets, is really funny stuff.

How To Vote:

1.  Read the voting pamphlet: both the measures and the candidates

2.  If a measure isn’t in plain enough language for you to understand what the hell it’s proposing, vote “no” on it.

3.  Read the arguments that oppose your own.

4.  Make sure that you read what a candidate’s past voting record has been, there is no better way to know what they’re all about.

5.  Read the educational background information on candidates and avoid people who got their “education” at an institute that calls itself an “educational effort” rather than a school.

6.  Do not be fooled by photographs of candidates with children.  Pedophiles like children too.  Just because a candidate is seen milling around a classroom full of first graders doesn’t mean that that candidate will vote according to the best interests of your children.

7.  Don’t vote for people who promise to accomplish things outside the realm of the office for which they’re running.

8.  Discuss measures with other adults whose opinion you respect to see if they have some different perspective for you consider.

9.  No cheating!  While this isn’t a test, there is no copying allowed.  Spouses need not vote the same way on everything (Philip and I don’t always vote the same way but because we tend to agree on most political things we do often have nearly matching ballots- the main point is that we arrive at those choices through individual thought and mutual discussion)

10.  Do draw mustaches and hobo beards on all of the candidate’s faces.

Bonus #11

Get the ballot turned in on time!!!!