confusion maybe not

could be that you can heal yourself if you stop thinking in the circle of confusion let’s say drop out not drop drugs or smoke pot temporary palliatives the hangover will last a lifetime and the visions forgot worse buyer’s remorse since you may have to sell your self and or soul to sustain the fix so let’s say you were sent to exotic foreign vacation lands and the natives were restive and resentful of your being in their face and space & you were told what to do while there then came back minus your legs and once-upon-a-time you were a cheerleader or quarterback now the throwing arm in pieces your mind scrambled and nobody wants you without what they wanted to see under your skirt in their opinion you made a mistake serving your country well just for love lets say it was just what happened not your fault or the misjudgment of doubled down and lost you plus the investment so what are you going to do stew for eternity over it our get about living what is in front of you your life as it is get over the cause the condition and live the real in this moment outside the circle of confusion you have now the first day for the rest of your life to live and stop living the last day it was as it was in confusion as boy girl child adolescent then adult the same issue prevails since your parents were once just like you at your age facing the same issues economic, success, ambition, get rich and famous, problems, opportunities and gave it all up to have you giving you life conscious of itself as just life maybe wanted maybe not but there you are free to choose the this moment forgetting the rest remember this brethren we are what we are in this moment eternal flowing through us do you want love then be loveable and receive the wealth of that greater than anything talking back or rusts there is a place within us that water will make blush like the desert after a spring rain that is the real you not what people tell you its not so much what they or you say but the silence of love once experienced it grows if you give it away making room for more then more comes some things just happen when you happened to be there now no fault no confusion just be healed by what your are exclusive of what you think you should be extrude yourself from the confusion and be love for everything and everyone it will confuse the hell out of them. Don’t be a nut case be a fruit cake. LOL <: span="span">

PS . . . 19:42 those of us who Jesus left behind forgot his laughter and the light of his loving sight so generously spread even upon those of us who slayed Him indifferently
. . . yet He remains so near . . . so very dear to and in my heart
PPS . . . 19:54 in review, the painful part of writing, do I tamper with or otherwise modify or leave stand what was writing in a fit of love. No. I know it difficult for even me to read and I am nominally the author yet instead of rewrite tickle and tamper ala Agee I’ll let it go as is . . . Be Well
God bless God pretty please


121005 07:07 (confusion) maybe not©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

Looking back, at now and forward as an old man I am wont to do. I fall into sadness and joy then ecstatic and back again. Discovering I have no fear for my friend is always with me: me. It’s okay to be a girly boy with panties over my head laughing at myself in the mirror remembering it was a near and dear thing the difference between being a girl or boy only one percent and to become a real 50/50 in ways always is a blast something to pass forward as a gift of abandonment to real life instead of the pale white bread covered with wheat paste alternatives born in America or Bangladesh ya gots’ ta know it more better to be free than enslaved.

To know and love God and in return to be so loved to have one another as playmates in the sandbox of creation is well what can be better?

To see this genius in another is!

To celebrate the self possession of free people is a blessing from which one can at the time of death know them blessed by whom and when and the pants wetting ecstasy of knowing yourself blest not damned either the marriage of heaven with hell and back again.

The orgasm never ends since it cycles round and round with wobble of our seasons and reasons to be at all so blest with bliss God by anyother name remains God or Muhammad or Ali or Ala or a boy named Sue Immanuel and Jacob at play dancing the tango or David doing the naked strut ecstatic into Jerusalem to be in the middle best seat in the house helpless with laughter at the proceedings since you know all the time it goes can go will go either way and God be served God’s will and intentions U go God! Rha, Rha!

She was black and sweet as midnight in Jamaica and I was in her presence while she swept the doorstep but a moment and knew then and now I’d seen not merely the Great Mother but also the Mother of Earth and oh boy that Mona Lisa Smile and how now I melt in remembrance what me worry the having is being had keeper kept and the free man/woman/person/alltogether can fly or slither hop or swim going up in smoke saved by the creator of all things no crib sheet Post-It Notes needed no faux thumbnail or fake book to steal from required the little boy burned alive for wetting his bed the little girl raped and cut apart for the Fargo Shredder its okay not for you maybe not forever or at the very least as far as your vision and version and perception will allow I can heal you since I’ve been healed of all my griefs and know them better redeemed before me reconciled submission to the will and intentions of consciousness of god is good more better. I think the next time I want to be a giraffe or an ant eater to tickle your tonsils from inside out. Best of the Best Blest yet can’t fly or swim without resistance or hop from lilly pad to frying pan without somewhere to go. As for me I love going back to Saint Louis on my tricycle with what was her name pantsless holding me for dear life as I wiz through the alleyways and the wizard of oz laughing his ha ha off mama flummoxed oxymoronic

121005 04:44 ooh yah
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

i hate being WHITE!

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

121003 21:37 dreams

"Your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dream

Joel 2:28 "And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. ... ... I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions: ...

Acts 2:17 "'In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit ... ... pour out my Spirit on all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams; ...


Alluded to but not explicitly stated is the apprehension of spirituality in all that I write. What is now a conviction expecting death at any moment; indifferent.

Reality being what it is; remains talked about as being either Created or Evolved. The two definitions are at odds, and in a sense invalidate one another; terminally. Yet if we examine our experience: nothing changes; life remains the same. Dominated essentially by the choice of fight or flight when something or anyone imperils our being alive.

Fear and pain serve a purpose for without them you would not know what or when to remove your hand from the stove at full burn; losing your hand; possibly self-immolating. Death.

I could easily use my dreams and visions as a resource for poetry, a novel or two, perhaps a Philosophy, motive for Scientific investigation etc. Yet I write what I do, doubting that I do it well but, compelled to do so from my experience of being in harms way all of my life.

Change is the nature of the universe thus nature itself. Experientially it is chaos and most systems of governance or religion are vehicles of comfort and protection against fear. And are fearsome in and of themselves since they are directed by authorities who present themselves as capable of defending us -- at the same time exacting horrific profit from doing do.

The alternative is what has become an obscenity: the sales of snake oil remedies and false systems of belief that in their origin were true but have become contorted with greed and ambition to be King/Pope/Judge/whatever: lends the poser/pretender/elected to be in charge and control. In order for you to be safe you need to pay taxes, sacrifice your children and/or self or in other ways pay for the illusion of safety.

I, being now old, remembering my fear, pain and suffering coupled with the deaths of young friends in youth, adolescence and then my biological and adopted child’s death. In the latter case it was not physical but emotional death in that she abandoned me irrevocably. Laws of probability imply that I will never see any of what remains of my family before I die. I am at peace with that; as I am now reconciled with the many beloved who left me behind alone.

It is natural for us to be born singly and die alone commonly born into a family. We take on our families issues, ideals, ambitions and censure, discipline and laws. Often this circumstance is less than idyllic; experienced as a trial ending in death: the child, the parent or both or all three at one time.

It is my ideal, based upon my experience, to help, or guide others to heal themselves. To suggest a course correction away from the inevitable agony of being maladaptive. The rules of our father’s and mother’s coping mechanisms are antiques in a time of catastrophic change. Everything changes. The nature and facility of war, for example, has evolved from sticks and rocks to the extinction of all life instantly.

On a local family level a woman becomes a mother and changes from individual to an instinctual role of protection and the father, normally or ideally, provides food, shelter, clothing etc. The couple, now a family, is obligated to provide for a highly dependent child and this is where the problems begin. Children are not for us as pets, they are for themselves a new life able to choose, if given the chance, a life radically different from their parents.

Read within your heart what the self-fulfilling prophecies, scripts, fates, intentions drummed or beaten into you were

121001 02:08

. . . . It was within this moment that exhaustion overcame me like the hood placed upon a Gyrfalcon head and I slept the sleep of the dead knowing not whether I would arise again not caring for in God’s Love I Trust

. . . and now even now if I must will I burn myself to death on the steps of the Supreme Court to protest the ways of America in this World too soon to end at our hands & this alone will be my sole prophecy for We The People of God and The World Created all life by adoption mine to Shepard for a time  . . . the mythology of me is mine and will not share since it is for those who lead to justify our actions in the world and i merely an old man with a cat willing so soon to die to prove my love of God who speaks in my submissions to Him . . . Our Father who art in Heaven . . .

Greed and vanity have become the new ‘normal’ in America; of which none can have enough . . . the children cry for more, more, more and theft is celebrated. The time will be obvious to me and as a journalist I will alert The New York Times for whom I have worked and who know my name . . . the place is irrelevant since you who do not trust will never know what hit you, where or when you are held in ridicule in the court of public opinion via my theatrical self-immolation. My word is my bond and sufficient unto itself.

121004 21:55 To close - Finally

On a feeling level, what I sometimes snobbishly call experiential, this time between now and my next rest has been trans-formative. I have been attracted to two women in the past few years and in case I experience something very new and oddly powerful leaping to the conclusion THE IS THE ONE! The first was overwhelmed with my eroticism and eventually I gave up. The second time was a young woman visiting a friend . . . so young she could not be a “feasible” mate; besides which she had four children -- I adore children -- yet love the child in me finally loved and accepted not matter how unacceptable I actually am; at times to myself as well as those I love. Odd. God hasn’t struck me down or deaf, dumb and blind to writhe helpless in guilt and shame.

What I now sense had happened was what CG Jung implied by integration of the male and female aspects of each soul, which, of course being a soul, is more angelic than what holds it for a time in this life.

I will close with this: I am now writing in a manner that suits me just fine: anecdotal--discursive. Exactly as I would speak to you if we were friends face-to-face. And if that were so I could instantly tell if you needed me. Or I could prompt you into healing someone who need you to do so.

M told me, finally, that she intuits this in all her patients. Farther that it is obviously buried in all that we talk about all the time; at lunch after water aerobics: healing.

The illustration for this post was gleaned from PARABOLA. I cannot afford or won’t spend the money for a subscription but they send me the most wonderful teasers.

©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

aggression V. assertion - inspired by Wm. Blake

Dreams are inconvenient they reveal aspects of our self (aka soul) that inform of facets being too largely grand for us to inhabit. Thru years experienced attending The School of Hard Knocks --mine classes and my experience-- I’ve learned to pay close attention; earning a degree of reality in our world awash in chaos. Though painful and emotionally expensive there is value: a grief for tragic losses healed: All of them!

Death and loss have visited my family, friends and those others I’ve loved, so early and often I came to accept their leaving me as a matter of nature, as in the way of life, not tragic; or punishment.

Recent events have informed me that I am a take-no-prisoner dedicated person demanding that others I regard highly accept my personal standards of truth and the ferocity of my love. For a lifetime I’ve remained divided: is my aggression or assertion based upon need or gift?

Instead of asserting myself, at or near the beginning of the relationship, I have endured countless hours of boredom hearing frequently repeated issues for which I know they themselves must heal. Worse: receiving their projected rage against men in general; or specific; yet not myself. Rather than confront or hold them accountable to their self avoidance I left. But I was a boy then, now I am an emotionally sober man. Flashing across the screen of my mind were all the times I’ve run away instead of harm my beloved woman, mother, sister, wife, lover . . . I have never harmed a woman but know I can with far greater anger than appropriate. Absent I have remained loyal by choice and inclination; but in my leaving, left behind not only my furnishings and collected art output but all my reference material.

Afterward with reflection discovered I had left a piece of my heart, like leaven to animate their healing . . . or so I once thought: unconsciously. Then thinking it love, I now see aggression and trespass against their God given right in free will to remain as they will or must is what Jesus and Buddha did in leaving their former lives for the life wanting birth.

Could we, for a moment briefly say that a woman giving virgin birth might also indicate/describe  her giving birth to her first child? If you accept my envisages then my thesis of giving birth to my Self is a gift in homage to the Author of All Life, Love, Value and meaning. My love for God is immutable and my faith rewarded so often and in so many ways I remain humiliated  at the poverty of my soul.

This morning I awoke with a sincere and painful sense of myself; as described by someone far wiser, infinitely more compassionate and merciful than I; what Lao Tzu describes as “ . . spontaneous awareness of the Great Oneness.”

--Nostradamus
"After there is great trouble among mankind, a greater one is prepared. The great mover of the universe will renew time, rain, blood, thirst, famine, steel weapons and disease. In the heavens, a fire seen."

121003 06:44 inspired by Wm. Blake
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

121003 12:21 no good deed goes unpunished

Or: 
"Retarded answer:
Actually, the saying is "ALL GOOD DEEDS GO UNPUNISHED". However, the saying contorted "No good deed goes unpunished" was said to emphasize that if one does no good deed, then one shall expect to be punished, i.e., "no good deed will go unpunished. You have to 'think' it a different way, and you will then understand it.

Read more: http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Where_did_the_phrase_no_good_deed_goes_unpunished_originate#ixzz28DUnjjHQ

I awoke at the annotated time and while making my "morning" or is "Mourning" coffee I came to an understanding of something M said in passing no too long ago. The fragments of which coalesced around my curiosity/cause/effect/consequence . . . instead of terror or 'fear of the Lord' I began to laugh and understood better why people are attracted to both fictive and nonfiction heroes. Add to which the flickering memory of Buddha's mention of "A Middle Way" God Bless God and all who ask in sincere need to know their own truth at the time of crisis.

I have been subject to crisis to the extend of being indifferent about death since death implies the surcease of everything and so it follows that I fear more never being able to 'die.' 

My initial curiosity centered in the "Last words of Jesus Christ" and all attendant associations in my dyslexic perceptions regarding things spiritual versus material. Then and now I know I hurt her and that is the last thing I'd ever want to do to either she or my mother yet I did and thus am as complicit as Josef Mengele was in Nazi Death Camps -- I enjoy chasing my tail ala all mad dogs should be put to sleep. 

Self knowing only becomes real love for one's self when we accept the unknowing parts. Those elements of our minds that begin to recognize that even the most generous and wonderful of us have bigotries, hypocrisies and can be by: nature, nurture and education cynical. Therefore another question arises; is it dangerous to know yourself? 

Laughing, but you cannot hear me. Jesus is the absolute "Gold Standard" definitive to me of what it means to be a person. At the moment I am amused with myself remembering a few gestures of self flagellation and/or being flagellated by accident as in the man who threatened to throw me out of the apartment I am currently dwelling in . . . it may well be, definitively, that I am dumb as stone.

I collected an illustration -- recently used to illustrate -- quote of/by Lao Tzu on an ox. So when I am animate I an ox and when inanimate I'm a rock. Though suffused with 'Classical Music' thus avoidant of "Rock-'n-Roll" I have long ago succumbed to the charms of both.

I started to say, at least I thought about writing; "One goal many paths" then remembering Tzu's; 'just keep walking Jack' -- he didn't say it gets better of that The Source will be there for you but I know from what awakened me this time that I might simply die from bliss. And at that, not having run up a tab with a drug king pin. M & God remain the most amazing personalities I've yet encountered, with rare and occasional, seemingly random exception.

My listening abilities grow exponentially while my ability to write or speak or sing or tap dance take a nose dive. . . .And as dad said too frequently to me; "You are as full of shit, as the Christmas Goose!" Then laughing. I don't really want to kill anyone I just, sometimes, want to put them on the rack and make them look funny as I did to myself the first time I illustrated the ideal/issue of "Smoking Pot."

I know a few really wonderful actors in certain revelatory films who being more human than I am lent me the sense that my or Randy's or Johanna's deaths and Jodi's abandonment "just happen" and none of it is my fault.

. . . I did however awaken with a frisson of fear that I'd hurt M all over again. And if nothing else she cured me of saying "I am sorry for being myself" but that was initially, perhaps she's changed her mind?

To close, at least for this moment, confident that I will continue to write if only for fear of dying of boredom or crying myself to death over what we're doing to one another savagely and/or the planet since once you cannot drink the water drain what's left of your blood and after drinking that grasp your posterior with both hand bending over and kiss it goodbye. . . .I hope then I won't meet da JUDGE!

. . . I cannot afford cable TV, despise football reminding me of 6 year-old-girls raped by chimpanzees for the amusement of the masses in Rome long ago and the girls parents were Christian. How about them apples!? Like M there are times when reading, our mutual guilty pleasure, that we go away into another place. For me it was why I abandoned my son to his grandfather's care seeking shelter from the Lightning and Thunder of the Bi-Centennial Fourth of July 1976 in New York Harbor.

Regardless of everything. I've had a very interesting life and am near sick to death of it. Had it not been for my sense of humor, I'd have eaten a train long ago. Being human, nothing surprises me now.

Well I lie. Of course I do! Attention paid to me for something I produce is affirmation that I'm not as stupid as mom seemed to think me being; from beginning to end.

Never really or fatally oblivious of God, however, since that small still voice tells me things I could never imagine in ways so far beyond verification or attribution. The experience just now make me happy as a boy in a sandbox with a girl making sand castles and I'll never forget St. Joan of Arc it seems dangerous to love God so. 

121003 12:21 no good deed goes unpunished
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved

love yourself here right now! . . . The Author of Life and Love does!

Lacking a formal education and no degree above high school I find daily that I love to learn more. Counting most highly those days when learning becomes transformative. A good bit more than information regarding a lifetime of moral and ethical prostitution to a Corporation at the end of which they show you out their front boor escorted by armed security forces. You suddenly realize your ardor was in vain and there is no gain in your retirement accounts since your are expunged before qualification to collect.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhsh! Don't ever irk the ire of those who employ you it may change your life into something more better. Remembering well the 4th Grade Colonel's wife both retired whom I described to a curious class her absence saying; "I just saw her flying past the door on a broom stick."

I received the nervous laugh sought.

. . . and then the fan began turning; "Don't you want to grow up and be rich?" As she clutched my upper arm with vice grip claws her purple died hair bobbing and rouge and lip stick spittle. Oh well, dear Mr. Potato Head had his persona mutilated by her rage and I stayed back a grade. However. Remembering now I did gain an early friend of comparable age to the witch/bitch who upbraided me. Mrs. Nelson, I'll never cease giving her gratitude for she believed in me though paid to do so for special tutoring. It is remarkable how easily we forget the gifts we had until we are on the brink of losing everything. And I suspect it was mom who nearly beat me to death, kicking and stomping my youth into hell. Who in fact mad dad pay the bill. Of dad, I can only say that anything I learned from was to foster his ambition to be unforgettable yet I love him still he was the fool and I am wise having lost the contribution to his ambition given his second son the little bastard I refuse to call a brother. Abuse of all kinds emotionally equivalent to rape simply by the nature of their impact upon our psyche: boys & girls.

I have no degree or sanctioned affirmation for what I do. Yet I do what I do in love and having been schooled in The University of Universal Hard Knocks am empathetic to those who like me suffer loss:
Name it, Claim it: it is your ticket to strength and I am but one stepping stone a path to the one who can heal you; YOURSELF!

Save and redeem yourself in any way you must since each of us is unique and has a genius for something. If I have any genius it for finding the good in bad people. And for this I am grate full to many including my personal sense and faith in God who is not religious, we are. 

I unwittingly, today, in a fit of joy misused and posted what I thought attributable to The Universalist Church: but in fact was hard line anarchism.

As the day wore on wearing me out I began to reconcile what I later learned reading Wikipedia, though subject to bias, what is not? The education implied through The Greenwich Board of Education was heavily influence by poor folk who couldn't afford private school . . . 

I have dishes to wash, clothes that have need laundering since six months ago. I am so in love with writing that I simply don't care. And have only a female cat companion who rescued me from suicide. Then the is M she did pull me from the brink of both suicide and insanity; both topic/subject/issue I know very well and can teach them extemporaneously. I identify with something Joseph Conrad wrote about writing but refuse to quote him. I'll quote myself. 

I will soon die of old age. Or. The list or perils are numerous; limitless, in fact. In three years, I wish it was more or that I could do more, not merely for the dying but the living as well. I learned that life is not a seamless continuity. That time is precious and so are you to me. While I once thought myself invincible or as stupid as it was suggested by my parents and life, and The Greenwich School Board. I am not any of the above nor are you. Or the Pope or President of the United States. We're all doing the best we can with what we have.

I have a curious mind. Both in what I inquire about and how I process the potential truths discovered. I will close here in recognition that this is a platform, a mission statement, the Rules of Engagement for all future conflicts with authority. Recently I discovered in my wandering wondering way that The Chinese Curse, mentioning ". . . my you come to the attention of the Authorities . . ." could in truth be you and me. After all is said and done are we cancer to be cured or individuals worthy of the attention we must pay to ourselves to know us better than that?

I am by nature, nurture, succor and learning profoundly religious. Yet I am equally aware that beneath the clown persona I regularly use I am equally, if not more so, a sophist for love. 

I role play the various characters in The Passion Play wondering exactly who was who, what was what and why? The role I return to most often is the most troubling -- mere conjecture -- but it could be that Jesus was in fact God role playing Jesus.

If I died this moment there would be no anxiety, the wealth of that thought, if my last will and testament is sufficient for me. Mom was brilliant, father was humorous yet I still wonder why I loved them so and still do they being forgiven, absolved and redeemed in my heart they are. Final/Final: I sense that the Passion Play works both ways and still wonder why we kill one another attempting to prove our version of Love/Good/God is better . . . the hardest part was that I never forgave nor accepted myself for feeling so abused and wanting to kill them in reprisal.

12110 21:07 learning
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved