November 18, 2016 § 4 Comments
a word that means what it is;
an intrinsic upside down and backwards of a thing, person, or nation;
the inside out of a thing, person, or nation
the doing of something absolutely upside down, backwards and/or inside out;
an utter, or intrinsic undoing of a person, thing, or nation;
a fundamental error of typesetting
snigowed: bamboozled, of course the i is upside down;
to be snigowed: you know who, as you know what.
n.b. if it doesn’t make sense just yet, just wait, it surely will soon.
coming soon: snigowed; the movie.
November 11, 2016 § 7 Comments
Day two of president elect Donald Trump. And playing out on a national level is the confusion of feelings and facts, by which I mean understanding reality based on ones feelings, and justifying ones actions based on feelings. Well, I mean the whole election was an example of that, but as my good friend Doug pointed out for at least the 150 times in the last year or so, we are a republic, not a democracy, and it’s not simply about majority rules. It’s about disagreement, and the push and pull and tug and scratch of the factions. And of course there was going to be push back against the what the fuck of all the changes that have seemingly been rammed down the throats of white men and women it can’t help but be said, who weren’t, aren’t ready. But, it is just another cycle and another beginning, and change does not come at the click of the mouse, nor in a nanosecond, and is not done by others, so there is a steep learning curve.
Wow how did I get to be on the elder side of this I can’t help but marvel.
This whole cycle was also full of no one knowing what they were talking about. The irony of course is that Donald Trump was the perfect exemplar of that, and so of course he won. But the extent to which now in post mortem people continue to come up with simple explanation not to mention blame to explain the right and wrong of it is as mind blowing as the whole experience has been. And it is annoying.
So I get back to feeling sad feels sad, or mad or glad and let’s just rest there until one can or is willing to marshall his her or eir feelings to get about life the business at hand, which is living in accordance with ones own values, oh yes, here we are back to how do you know who you are what (do) you want?
The motes in our eye are blinding.
But and feeling sad feels sad. Or scared or angry.
The blame game is lame.
It just is the beginning of another circular go nowhere argument and there are plenty of parties to engage but they are all someone’s other. Yesterday my sweet husband in his discombobulation tried out I blame this on women! I mean I got the point he was trying to make but, really?! Really he thought saying it just like that would do anything but land up his ass?!
The fix is in there is no fix except the fix we are in and pulling on the short hairs of r.d. Laing, therein is the fix. Ha!
There is a glut of everyone thinking they’re so smart or have just right thing to say this away. Mostly, if, or when, we are honest, really what everyone is doing is triangulating, checking to see the lay of their land, their tribe, their safety, their fallback position. Of course we are afraid, but we must not cower. Of course we are sad but we, by which I mean I, will not despair. All is not lost. All is not anything.
So, the extent to which any of us do not temper our smartest in the room with wisdom is the extent now to which we are no longer the smartest one in the room. Just sayin’
In fact that you look and sound exactly like the arrogant and so blinded by the mote in your own eye shortsighted blowhard know nothings you are deriding.
It’s very much more complicated to be as smart as you think you are. And you’re old enough now to start wising up. As in adding a mix of wisdom, and (not empathy or compassion, but) the tenderness and ferocity that comes from your own skin singe in the game, to the way you move around in our world.
Time to dial it back a bit or it will bite you in the ass, in the real world you, as in, we live.
Tempted of course would I be to give him backstory and context but that then would give him ground for debate and therein is the extent to which the point would have been missed. It is a rubicon moment, and I the bony finger pointy nosed cranky old woman who has only to say there’s no sorry that will get you back once you’ve crossed. There is no debate. Cross at your own peril. You’ve been warned, and you don’t get to say no one ever told you.
Not surprisingly he didn’t want to hear. Fair enough.
November 4, 2016 § 5 Comments
Book 1. Limited, varied edition of 10, could be 13. Could be 15, though that would be some kind of magic and variation, or theme and variation.
51 poems, 5 signatures, assorted photos, etchings & rubbings, 108 pages.
The final and 5th part will be a novel novel; hole in the grid.