Tuesday, July 31, 2018

directing lulu.

mister goes to the same spot as lulu in the same yard with the skull and crossbones flag, plants himself and looks at me.
the golden arcades.
i don't have many old friends. most people move on or move away. i seem to stay in one place, and move ahead of developments, when i can't pay my rent. i was so low before, i could not even engage with life. now i feel the pulse even when i'm tired. i feel anger at the manipulators, the greedy bastards destroying for quick gain, but i feel love, intense and moving, underlying everything, despite the profiteers, what's keeping us alive. 
i don't have many old friends, and some old ones in my pain i drove away. in my dream life i would be like the hermit on a mountain, cloud-hidden, but the city is a horizontal mountain, and i'm a hermit in a greed-fueled grid. i see some friends grow old faster than me, and i don't want to see them go. i'm tired and i write too quickly for the things i want to say.
money is the law, kids, and the law is money. you wanna play, go ahead, you play. money gone get you anyway.
he follows me like a furry light shadow about the house. he dances round when i come in.
but then i wonder, 
is he bored
is he anxious
is he hungry
does he have to poop
is he happy
does he really just 
want to be with me?
he should conduct himself with the dignity of his office? ha-ha-ha-ha hahaha. oh, that's a rich one!
thank you very much for responding to me. most of the time you know i get no reply at all.
found a paperback of cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown
in the free bag today with lulu.

 the kid's good luck.

searching for the hermit 
             in vain

i asked the boy beneath the pines.
he said, "the master's gone alone
herb-picking on the mountain,
cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown."

-chia tao 

lulu in obombaland.
the baby robin is still here and so is the mom robin. i'm glad i dint call the bird collision folks. i hope baby's wing will heal. every time i see a hurt bird i think of course of obomba's giant lighted tower, and the birds scattered around its base. they'll have to hire a park employee to sweep up each day before business hours. it would be unseemly to have them seen scattered there.
oh the creep factor is really high here in obombaland in breathless anticipation and dread of the second coming of obomba. it seems that money and power can accomplish anything, short of helping the poor people. it should come as no surprise that when i finally donate to jackson park watch, the construction appears to have begun, despite a federal review pending and a lawsuit to save our park. jackson park watch will no longer be required: the whole park will be under one all seeing eye. surveillance for 99 years, renewable.

the rich'll get ya, comin' and goin'.
last night the little bird with the broken wing in the corner of the unused stairs was gone.

what is the golden rule? well, it's kind of archaic, not much practiced today, but it persists in the common parlance as sort of a book-end to necessary evil. huh... i mean, huh?  
basic egalitarianism, that's what it means. authoritarianism and hierarchy made it archaic.
well duh, that's indubitably obvious to the most casual of observers, obviously.
for the love of ivy.

sometimes to talk about some things makes them too real. i can talk about the insect living in my left arm because it doesn't seem to require any drastic action. i don't want to talk about my bad tooth.
i remember the message on the wall.

remember what the brown wall used to say when it was briefly given the power of speech?
we all live here.

two off leash fellows well met make a circle of peace around each other.
self portrait in a convex dog.
i got this itch
that lives
in my left arm
a potent insect
of chance
left a sting
that stayed

thinking about surveillance. to see blindly. to see nothing in all of us. in the all seeing blindness. 
the total blindness of the all seeing eye.

peace is not just the absence of war. it is the presence of justice.

                                                                                  martin luther king

i think of the countless signs, no justice, no peace. in countless protests, in 
endlessly enduring resistance. we haven't felt peace. we have felt the continual presence 
of war: the absence of justice. it seems unlikely we will ever feel the presence of peace 
in this mighty military country, spread like a hateful scourge throughout the globe.  
peace and justice then are only possible in the presence of war. 
it seems impossible but whatever peace we may have 
in a land predicated on perpetual and endless war 
will be in our local hearts, and in each contact with other peaceful bodies.
 in this realm of necessary evil we may have our own limited, necessary peace. 


...thinking of ron dellums today.  

Monday, July 30, 2018

                                   nay, we have not lived in vain.
                                   have they not built towers of our bones?
                                     kahlil gibran
i'm complaining because i cant watch a movie cause at&t's connection keeps flashing on and off and i should read anyway i'm too tired to read or watch or even sleep my head just feels like a wad of sodden cotton wool. mister can sleep and spreads out by the bed and whines softly in a dream, his orange bone and blue ugly doll at his feet. 
i think i'm going to dump david lynch, it's kind of hagiographically boring. o i'll skim on through. sheil heti's mother is waiting for me, and neil degrassi tyson's astrophysics for people in a hurry, but i these may be quickly dispatched too, i think i hear living in the world as if it were home calling me. i'm rambling forgive me. i spend a lot of time alone with non-verbal entities. i started out to say i saw a kid, tiny, with a big head in a helmet in a stroller pulled up to watch the pointers play ball. i thought it was some awful hole in the cranium or severe autism but the kid was beaming like a small sun in there, and his mom's a behaviorist and discovered his head was flat from riding on her back. i wondered what that might do to behavior but she said she discovered it earlier than her other kid, who i think she said did have some trouble. i never thought of that, but don't a lot of indigenous people carry kids on their back? still rambling. why don't i give up when i'm tired. i wonder how my mom carried me? the back of my head feels strange now, like taut, and the front feels like a slab of cartilage.
lulu and the bomb.

oh my honeys, i got the black-eyed lulus. 

when one is drunk with a vision, one deems one's faint expression of it the very wine.
                                                                                                               kahlil gibran
another feature i'd like to start is gossiping to dogs about other dogs.  
i thought of this when mister was sniffing me for lulu. i said you got her? 
i want you to meet, but she's still too crazy for a subtle old gent like you. 
i told post jeff about the post featuring him, talking about lesser evil and necessary evil, i don't get the feeling he does blogs, but he likes the idea. he said he was thinking of me when someone used the well worn phrase necessary evil, about the evil hoard of nuclear weapons we invoke and occasionally employ to threaten, control and rule over the world, along with all our other tricks, coups, targeted assassinations, wars and wars by proxy, multi-trillion arms deals, toxic industry, state terror, slave economics, and so on. money, power, are necessary, in the system of monetized illusion. necessary evil rules over necessity. we chatted about the sick necessity we made of the world. annihilation as the pinnacle of human achievement. we can blow up the whole fucking planet. that's power baby. and evil. pure evil, without regard for any form of life including our own children, and infinite profit all the way to hell. are humans the original necessary evil? if there was evil before, we certainly perfected it. we erased all the amateurs, we made evil an all consuming profession, we destroyed the competition. we think, or our masters think for us. maybe we got another think coming. i said i'd like to continue this, whenever i think of something i know you can relate. i said you got a short route and a wide circumference. he said you can put that down too.
the power we've unleashed upon the world is so unbelievable we can't even hold the thought of it for more than a moment, yet it's forever. and we're worried about unleashed dogs, who would never for a moment think of the violence humans do without thought, and who are here for such a brief time.
we were talking about getting things and i said no, no i don't need the fish mug, the picture is enough. and most ideas are better to think than to have. then i thought of the hoard of sorrow back home, i think of kahlil gibran, my house says to me, do not leave me, for here dwells your past. i think that's the trouble. the past needs no house. it needs space i guess. 
i got 12 books of poems in the free box yesterday, but i regard them like passages, that are migrating through my hands.

oops, i forgot, this was supposed to have another quote, from one of those free books, living in the world as if it were home, by tim lilburn.

the conviction which had come to me was
that when one hungers for bread, one does not receive
stones.... just as i was certain that desire
has in itself an efficacy in the realm of spiritual goodness,
whatever its form, i thought it was also possible
that it might not be effective in any other realm.

                                                                           simone weil


when you long for blessings that you may not name,
and when you grieve knowing not the cause,
then indeed you are growing with all things that grow,
and rising toward your greater self. 

kahlil gibran
  strange, the desire for certain pleasures
is a part of my pain.

                                                        kahlil gibran,
                                                      sand and foam.

how can i lose faith in the justice of life, 
when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers
are not more beautiful than the dreams of those
who sleep upon the earth?

kahlil gibran,
sand and foam.
a little melancholy, a little joy. repeat. 

i thought mister was a little melancholy this morning, and limped. he stopped under the train tracks and i worried. then i saw mary louise coming and knew if he was limped still he was waiting for her. i said let's go with them and when we get home i'll rub your legs with hemp salve. so i did, and he made a face. so i put the ugly doll on his head, and when i said ok, he flipped the doll up and caught it. i was too slow for that. 

also i was thinking about what julia said about slowing down and time, time being malleable, and i thought about joy and melancholy, and pain, and how these are malleable and intertwined. when i turn my joy on with mister, he eats it and perks up. his pain recedes, his joints limber, his dark eyes light.