 |
| http://my.opera.com/baglodijayadev/blog/ her image from her fabulous eyes |
121004 0821 buttons & playing cards
buttons, playing cards and pennies randomly lost & found have been mnemonics discovered in the hair shirt of my life idly stroked petted / a cat who has remained my beloved companion through life loving locust and wild honey / together wandering deserts of our times sniffing the night airs / with the moon strolls changing hour by hours / rising differently in seasons changing towards the horizons newly found wobbling from epoch to eternity sung
Randomly I asked; ‘where is Anita Hill when I needed her?’
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anita_Hill
My grandfather’s name was Perry Hill. Who was at the time of his death, a Methodist Lay Preacher Circuit Rider serving four churches each sabbath
. . . just rolled another of how many cigarettes? From American Spirit having no chemical additives . . .
during the pause I began to remember when presenting my final child, an adopted three month girl of a biracial union and orphaned to my maternal grandmother; who was married to Perry at age thirteen. She ran from her home having said noting returning with a ‘black woman’ who she introduced as having been a slave on her father’s farm where she met and married Perry Hill. This is from memory, questions asked, random violence regarding radial purity -- I am descendant from an American Indian buried in Kentucky by name of Florence with his horse; no chronology or grave marker and no specified place in the state -- I fell to wondering was my grandfather “Black”? Or had he conceived children with the woman my beloved maternal grandmother presented saying; “Look what my grandson has done!”
Years later I hate being White!
“ 121004 11:14 Being a writer and not knowing “HOW’ is fascinating--fluid and ever changing; from hour to hour, radically day by day. I learn more from reading and following the suggestions emergent from within. And there is more joy than I have ever known and promise of even greater.
I called my namesake Sean Glenn Mack whose birthday is exactly one month before mine. To wish him an early Happy Birthday! He is one of an ever larger community of “REALITY CHECKS.” People I trust to listen and give honest transparent response. Friends I have nothing to hide and can be completely transparent to/with.
Confession and community are important for we the abused have learned to live alone with suicide as a constant relief valve. Oddly, or not oddly, so many of any age I know will confess that they too feel similarly having no fear of death and no interest in the current Industry of Medicine, Incorporated. Recognizing in the last sentence I have so much to write about before I, or we, all die at the hands of those who take from us our lives enslaved to their greed for more & more.
God does not endorse nor will I. However I will share and continue the scenario with my maternal grandmother and ‘her’ former slave.
I have held from early youth an unusual affinity for people of color. It follows that I have announced my bias based upon race -- more about the Presidential Race, perhaps, later on -- Jodi and my granddaughter are sequestered from me by their adoptive grandmother: The Bride-Of-My-Youth.
Felicitously she changed her name. No longer having a presence on the childish Facebook site--now a sewer of commercialism (being factory farmed for identity by the RNC to assess who is most likely to approve of greed via opinion groups with professional and wannabe psychologist pondering your face) . . . just occured to me; why not rename the commercial failure Fallacious, Faux or Fraud-book? I do not patronise people, businesses or institutions I do not trust; nor those who have betrayed me; though I may or may not pray for their future well being I otherwise boycott them.
God, obviously is not silent to me, if anything God talks too much, suggesting things, events and people that stretch my mind and attention like Turkish Taffy. I have spent my professional lifetime face-to-face with the Rich & Famous, Politicians, Cardinals, Bishops and so on . . . though I did photograph John Paul from a distance I wick people as well. Kings, CEO’s never really impress me since I sense the nature and state of soul’s easily. And I like my namesake Sean both abused sexually and emotionally are dangerous people. We do not care whether, when or how we die. I sense the same is equally true of all PTSD victims returning to an indifferent America for their and their friends martyrdom . . . it seems we have a vastly different personal value system up with the mightiest and down with the poor; the Seals who rendered den Laden a martyr may have, or may not have, followed the Presidents rules of engagement instead fulfilled George W. Bush’s wishful thinking: Kill First then ask questions. It is far easier to tell lies manipulating the electorate that way. Of Course! For recapturing the White House, The Congress, Senate and farther pollute the Supreme Court with the like of those with covert conservative agendas now with lifetime tenure.
. . . humor is a fabulous, if only, antidote! Imagine God laughing and playing squat tag with Jesus and Mohammad
I write without anger or haste since the realization of God’s will for me, for us, in these end times of our world. It is in fact too late to do much except give you peace and joy for what lays ahead.
Later: 15:12 One neglected project after another addressed and finished: atypically. I came to realize via an unrelated thought (process and/or string = computer programming or poetry). that I’d been hitting on women since I was a little boy. Initially not knowing what it is to make love. Rather it was, in retrospect to see if there was another woman who would in fact -- love me for me as I was and remain. One mother is enough for eternity for a man. . . And I think the sentiment is equal for women thus God is neither/nether but something other than reproductive sexually or asexually. Remember please Southern Central New Mexico is the Capital of the World population of lizards, laughingly called by some: “Lesbian Lizards” capable of inseminating themselves independent of male participation by a process that mystifies Biologist as yet.
This post has no intention. It is a cleanup round of thoughts in preparation for the next minute, hour, day or whatever. Add, that I am testing the use of Google’s “My Drive” in lieu of Jarte, used for years.
afterword 23:05
“Is this all there is?” Happens around the apogee of life. But that is merely a very mean average.
Many of the words, constructs, conceits I write about have been said long, very long ago better and by better people. That said why is the world not simply as it is but is soon to die. I take no pleasure in that ‘prophecy’ since it was said many times over. Current reading Eric Hoffer; “IN OUR TIME” clubbed senseless with his insights and connectivity between what and why. I look forward to meeting him eventually.
This business, or work, of becoming a whole person takes time. Effort. Focus. Avoidance of distractions: no TV, selective reading, etc. We have it all inside but getting inside means you have to leave “the world” behind and enter eternity within yourself.
Subject to visions and dreams. I have worked to remember and annotate them in my journal from which I occasionally tear a page or two--don’t like it? Don’t read me. I am doing the best I can do to heal myself from front to back and bottom up. Had a lot of help and am receiving more and I am going to follow this form for awhile. A lover once told me to write like I talk and I’m beginning to finally think it a better way. She was the major influence leading me to teach photojournalism university level and write a column for The Providence Journal -- I miss her. She was six years my senior and is most likely passed on. Maybe I’ll see her in heaven!?
Oh Yes! The vision I was thinking of was two glass funnels conjoined -- laughing -- sorta kinda like looking through a mirror and being looked at from the other side or talking to yourself and getting the best unimaginable answers back.
Thought the haves have stolen the world we’ll be fine on the other side--take heart; yours and mine. All the have nots go to heaven and the others well U know what Hell is like they’ll be gone ruptured: nothing for naught. . . . well finally I’m going to crash for an hour or two; maybe, maybe not . . . think of the funnels as big ears listening to one another. You don’t have to shout or cry He’s closer than you think. --Brother Lawrence + a little ad lib and tap dance thrown in.
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
