penny in foxtrot bag, memory all day, mon. may 31, 2021.

oh, happy day!

 

 and one more thing i wanna say about today, yea, it's a good day to mourn the land grabs and the deadly extractions and exterminations etcetera, but it is also — and most importantly — a day to praise the dog of our choosing and celebrate the noble souls living among and with us who guide our spirits and keep us connected and critically feeling and thinking about who we wanna be and how we wanna live on this earth not as competitors and consumers but as anarchistic cooperators. 

 so, i'm reading this book called albert and the whale and it's about albert and the dogs as well. well it's about the walrus and the rhino too, and angels. anyway he knew and drew dogs best and he was a melancholic, dürer, and he recognized that dogs are kindred spirit melancholics too, and i was talking with mary louise's mom and she agreed, yea, people often say dogs are so naturally happy-go-lucky, and they're not, or they are but much more, just like anybody, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes happy-sad, and all kinds of other nuanced feelings people tend to deny or simplify whether about dogs or human beings. we're all earthlings and there is suffering on the planet and even with all the destruction and extinction there's undeniable happiness and deep melancholy even at the same time. so that's why i always said dogs are natural philosophers and they don't have to explain or prove it it just is. 

 memorial day is the day we mourn the death and destruction of the american empire.

Having now laid all the historical facts before 

the Person Sitting in Darkness, we should bring him to again, and 

explain them to him.            

We should say to him: They look doubtful, but in reality they are not. 

There have been lies; yes, but they were told in a good cause.                   

We have been treacherous; but that was only in order that real good 

might come out of apparent evil.                                                                

True, we have crushed a deceived and confiding people; we have turned  

against the weak and the friendless who trusted us.                                   

We have stamped out a just and intelligent and well-ordered republic;  

we have stabbed an ally in the back and slapped the face of a guest;         

we have bought a Shadow from an enemy that hadn't it to sell;                   

we have robbed a trusting friend of his land and his liberty;                 

we have invited our clean young men to shoulder a discredited musket 

and do bandit's work … but each detail was for the best. 

We know this. 

The Head of every State and Sovereignty in Christendom, 

including our Congress and our fifty State Legislatures, 

are members not only of the church, but also of 

the Blessings-of-Civilization Trust. 

This world-girdling accumulation of trained morals, high principles,

and justice, cannot do an unright thing, an unfair thing, an ungenerous 

thing, an unclean thing. 

It knows what it is about. 

Give yourself no uneasiness; it is all right.

                                                                                                          -Mark Twain

 america's long war of independence started with the land speculators exterminating indigenous societies and it continues to this day. 

 it's easy to wake a sleeping person but you can't wake a person pretending to sleep.

 memorial day was appropriated from decoration day honoring the struggle of enslaved persons for freedom. during the american war on vietnam it became a national holiday celebrating militarism and genocide. do you want relish with that?

 war is nothing to celebrate. 

 every thought you think in your mind though private has an effect on the outside. it's not all in your head. your thoughts are alive. when you tense up in your mind it shows in your face and body and other animals get tense thinking your thoughts without knowing why and in the community confusion and chaos result. conversely when your thoughts are easeful your body floats and your ears perk up and your tail dances and you smile and other animals respond spontaneously with smiles so try to calm your thoughts and observe the small things that smell good and gratifying and light up your eyes.

 oh my dog, mouna, the new thug of israel sounds even more evil than netinyahoo. i shudder to think it. what is the world coming to?

 

mouna in the international dog house yard where she was once upon a time traumatized. 

 me and mouna pensive in the tall grass across from the outdoor disco in the future obamaland. we're grateful for the tall grass today while they perform the preliminary construction operations but we will miss the disco when it's gone, and the trees and local people as the settlers arrive. 

 mouna and me by the disco in the future obamaland.

 hey robin! you are standing in the street! watch yourself! the autopilots are crazy around here!

 no duh! i'm a bird. i got wings!

 I measure every Grief I meet

With narrow, probing, Eyes —
I wonder if It weighs like Mine —
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long —
Or did it just begin —
I could not tell the Date of Mine —
It feels so old a pain —

I wonder if it hurts to live —
And if They have to try —
And whether — could They choose between —
It would not be — to die —

I note that Some — gone patient long —
At length, renew their smile —
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil —

I wonder if when Years have piled —
Some Thousands — on the Harm —
That hurt them early — such a lapse
Could give them any Balm —

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve —
Enlightened to a larger Pain –
In Contrast with the Love —

The Grieved — are many — I am told —
There is the various Cause —
Death — is but one — and comes but once —
And only nails the eyes —

There’s Grief of Want — and Grief of Cold —
A sort they call “Despair” —
There’s Banishment from native Eyes —
In sight of Native Air —

And though I may not guess the kind —
Correctly — yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary —

To note the fashions — of the Cross —
And how they’re mostly worn —
Still fascinated to presume
That Some — are like My Own —

                                             Emily Dickinson 

 how are you going to coexist with an occupation?

i'm reading this article on the government military industry, going back and forth to blog and instagram and finally, well not finally, the most succinct line is 

When war is your business, peace is your enemy.

 so the u.s. is a war corporation? yeas, i know you have anxious tendencies,  and i don't wish to exacerbate these, but now you know you can forget about it again, and you have agency to pretend nothing bad is happening.

it makes no difference what i think but it makes a difference to me 

to the extent that corporate media air any credible information at all, the information reflects the opinions of the ruling class and capitalist dogma. there is no room to firmly address domestic issues (e.g. exploitation of the working class, dismal public education, petroleum dependency, two corrupt political factions, government subsidies of harmful industries, gmos and plastics in our food chain, war) or their root causes. 

 the military industry and the politicians work together for the benefit of democracy. yeah, they're makin a killing. by the way, did you know gavin mccloud died? i didn't, i didn't even know he was still alive. yeah, he was born again in the 80's. he played some dumb roles, but i reckon in real life he was a pretty sweet guy. i could be wrong of course.

infinity windows

 our minds were never made up

 member when you was a kid and you was soul curious you couldn't stop asking questions and the more you asked the more curious the world? you may feel like that today being the dult nstead of the kid. go head, ask away. you may always ask freely. you may always question who you is and wonder about your place in this strange and wonderful world. you may never know, but you needn't worry bout drivin the dults crazy, we're all kids anyway, ever-curious souls. 

this picture blows my mind. by a storm chaser named rowe. 

in bed after market with serum fog. all four of us snoozing. 

purple asparagus, strawbs, shrooms, asparagus soup, chipotle chedder, seedless rye bread, pecan cranberry granola, purple kale, that's what i remember. 

nettle tea, hibiscus tea, all well, the well of life. wellness to all.

welcome to lily ann, one week old. 

from a letter to uncle joe

 Dear President Joseph Biden,

My name is Haneen. I am a 23-year-old Gazan woman, and I write to you from my wheelchair on the second floor of a residential building in the Gaza Strip. I do not know if my letter will reach you, or if I will be killed by an Israeli missile before it does. In any case, I hope that you and your family are safe and well—though no one here in Gaza is.

There is nowhere to hide—for the last eleven days a drone has hovered constantly above my home. Memories have been assassinated. No one can think about anything except the terror that still lurks in the sky. The only thought in Gaza every morning is, “Are we really still alive?” 

Mr. President, Israel—the “only democratic state in the Middle East”—is practicing not only racial discrimination, apartheid, and mass violations of human rights against we Palestinians: they are practicing genocide. They are killing us collectively. To live and breathe in Gaza is to live within a publicly unfolding war crime of the most heinous, deadly degree.

This is not a conflict. This is not a war. This is a genocide in which an occupier is massacring the occupied. 

 don't try to think about anything big today. you don't have to deny thoughts that come up, just let them come and go. you don't have to explain what you think or explain the world even in your own head. just observe, and let your mind dwell on little things, the things that you may not notice comprising a coherent world passing beyond explanation.

 

the other day we were listening to josé mauro who i'd never heard before from 1970 going wow how come we never heard him before and then read he died and languished in obscurity for 50 years. this morning i read he didn't die, he just got sad and stopped making records after they dropped unheard. now he has parkinson's and he can't even strum his guitar, but he's alive to see his music come to life again.

 

we got to the stadium where we got the shot but forgot the card. we've been in the thick of things. oh my dog, there's so much doing on. just trying to heal takes all your energy. we did it. no ill reaction ncept i had to wiz six times las night and i twisted the sheet but i do that anyway. we're going to take it real nice and easy today potentially. i'm going to attend to the cats and r. and the farmer's market. yesterday was so jam-packed my head was spinning. cold too and rainy. i got a little cold in my chest. chaos on stony island, swerving and shit and cops taped off a mini-market gas station. somebody got shot the other night when the helicopter hovered. i said what a life, we're living in the great derangement, the great unravelling, people go crazy, so many guns. the country is going to get what's coming, been mean and nasty to too many people and mother nature far too long i don't know how we can ever get indigenous to this place we've ransacked. anyway i just got to get to the farmer's market like i said and take it easy.

 

you got the shot, now wot. 

 friday non-chronological lulu walk. lulu goes in the woods and i duck in after, she pops out, looks in, pops back in and so on. found the hand salute ripped off the protest wall so i put it with the orange lei on the crabapple tree. breonna taylor tops the soldier politician. love drives over hate. we got the second shot. the dog booker has cancer. lulu eats some wild roses. it just goes on and on. just us, that's justice enough. it is what it has to be. does that orange fence mean what i think? yes—obombaland. i love him but... you love him? why? he's a marauder! well, he's so handsome. aight, get on with you. your dog is handsome too.