too much emotion, too much is happening, and at the same time nothing, and we cannot possibly process it. 

 we do the same thing (almost) every day.

 i'm trying to be a little more discrete today. 

our daily obamachron.

some people experienced a delightful sort of rest in becoming very small, very inferior, and very irrelevant, in the face of such chaos and change.

                                                                                 sheila heti                                                                                                               pure color

in obligate symbiosis, me and crazy lu.

 put yourself in their shoes.

 consider your audience.

 today mom reminded me we have a relative named walter warmouth, or moth, and i used to sweep the floor of his ko-op, a kampus hangout in charleston. i totally spaced that. his second wife was oma warmouth, or moth. i was spacey as a kid, i probably swept the floor in a trance. i just read that warmouth is also a sunfish.

 i had to toon out a lot of the war talk. still it leaks like pipeline. the weirdest thing i saw was a video of a little girl cussing out a soldier telling him to go home. it was supposed to be a girl in ukraine but in truth it was a girl in palestine.

 we give thanks to all the waters of the world. we are grateful that the waters are still here and doing their duty of sustaining life on mother earth. water is life, quenching our thirst and providing us with strength, making the plants grow and sustaining us all. let us gather our minds together and with one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the waters.

-the haudenosaunee thanksgiving address

 it is the windigo way that tricks us into believing that belongings will fill our hunger, when it is belonging that we crave.

                                                                    -robin wall kimmerer

 to tell the truth i just learned what aporia means. i admit without really thinking about it i might have assumed it had something to do with bees.

An irresolvable internal contradiction or logical disjunction in a text, argument, theory, or land grab.

(Rhetoric) the expression of grave doubt.

once more—the windigobamachron.

in the natural as well as the built environment, positive feedback leads inexorably to change—sometimes to growth, sometimes to destruction. when growth is unbalanced, however, you can't always tell the difference.

robin wall kimmerer. 

you cant simulate reality. that just popped into my head while taking a pee. no dogs today. i'm sitting in the blue swivel chair with a baby quilt over the cat towel freshly washed by r. in the sun of a cloudless sky. reading about windigo. thinking the mythology of the united states is not worthy, it's simple propaganda. we're in a national simulation. it won't be the last.

 propagandize the people long enough they propagandize themselves.

 likewise, the collective fears and deepest values of a people are also seen in the visage of monsters they create. born of our fears and our failings, windigo is the name for that within us which cares more for its own survival than for anything else.

                                                  -robin wall kimmerer

it is said that the windigo will never enter the spirit world but will suffer the eternal pain of need, its essence a hunger that will never be sated. the more a windigo eats, the more ravenous it becomes. it shrieks with its craving, its mind a torture of unmet want. consumed by consumption, it lays waste to humankind. 

                                                          -robin wall kimmerer

 war is the crime of murder for the empire. 

capital is everywhere, except this system is not capitalism. it's something worse

than capitalism. 

                                                                          -yanis varoufakis

 sad old joe. he makes it so sad.

 intend to see what this is. receive receive receive. don't kill anything.

 sometimes paralysis may be wisdom. 

 some flee but none escape. g-ma rose fled ukraine 100 some years ago. she ended up in san rafael looking at a small mountain through sliding glass doors, hiding in plain sight in a catholic home for the elderly. i saw her die and the moth decal on the glass flutter in shadow on her headboard. there's no difference between life and death but struggle. i watched her struggle end. dad came late, then, and his struggle too ended. they as far as we can see are in a better place than the previous life.

 see as much as you can through your tendency to preconceive. be careful of what you're supporting. see it for yourself. don't get caught up in seductive propaganda. do nothing unless you have to. give it all your attention.

 land theft will continue, each generation will bring new invasions, as the previous ones pass away, but the land will stay and wait to grow again.

 chuck and my small head shadow. after the walks i buzzed my head. the hair is stiffer and more silvery. when i put the hat on it pushes the hat up so it sits atop the silver bush. sat, now the hair is in a bag on the way to the landfill. i think seeing my small head inspired me to buzz it, but now it looks even smaller and in fact it is smallish under the hair that's now not there. maybe that's why it gets so congested. i thought the buzz would let it breath and think better but idle know, it's still congested with more or less than thought.

everyone in their secret heart is dissatisfied with the way civilization has turned out.

oops, i left this dangling yesterday. 

thinking about how the disconnect from nature spawns madness and cults.

have humans always been disconnected?

finished the book the employees. small, i could hold in one hand and pet cat with the other. about a ship that orbits another planet after earth becomes too toxic and there are humans and humanoids and they make mysterious objects, the humanoids start to self-create and the humans miss earth, but all are trapped and the whole thing falls apart. some kind of experiment, human and beyond human. 

i'd like to do a diary of the afterlife.

 have i dreamt you into being?

 in the land of trumpelstiltskin, the obamachron. 

 it was a big relief to get to page one of the books of jacob. oh i wanted to like it very much but it was like that recent documentary about a cult leader, i just don't the charisma. he seemed like such a putz and i scratch my head thinking stupid people. i know that's oversimplifying but i tried. it's a big relief to be reading the employees by olga ravn and the symphonies by andrei bely. you can't blame a book, or a writer, if you get stuck in a morass of pages. the next book awaits you.

 the obamachron. making the world safe for kleptocracy. 

 ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free.

 this is no time to get lazy but if you are you just have to make do. i didn't get too fustrated with chuck. she was distracted as was i. when she left the ball behind the 3rd time i pouched it. i dint wanna throw anyway as i was stiff in my back side, then i splained to chuck if you gonna leave yer ball let's just walk and explore and after a few she did. she's a little obsessive, except she forgets the object thinking everything is always provided as it is. 

 war criminals get peace prizes and parks and towers with their name    on top. they say nothing stays the same, and it's true, nothing does stay the same, in this place nothing's the only thing that's true. say it. 

 the president's house.

 i look down and chuck's on the other side of the fence and she can't think how to get back. 

 there's something familiar about them, even if you've never seen them before. as if they came from our dreams, or some distant past we carry deep inside us, like a recollection without language.

olga ravn the employees

 don't forget chuck today, 10 and 3! 

 think of the dead, the displaced, today. you have the prospect of catharsis today.

it'll be alright.                                                                                you can take your time to work things out.                  it'll be alright.

 you may be fustrated today. 

     you could wish it was different but it'd be the same. still, wishfulness is a good thing.

do you feel sometimes your spirit has left your body and gone wandering?

 your daily obamachron, 2.25.22.

 every body just wants to be loved.

 i can understand wanting to live in the illusion rather than exist in the lie, but the illusion of democracy is killing the planet, and i can't imagine it makes even the people who fiercely defend their right to live in the illusion happy, or even satisfied.

we were playing frisbie and squeaky ball and pax came to the quad and lulu ran up and just when i said pax never gets to play or rarely they let pax free and he was soul happy, smiling his radiant golden smile. it was a good day for pax, and a good day for pax is a good day for all.