Clara Bell

We as people regardless of all definitions applied for the convenience of governing: are unique: the solution; not the problem & glorious in and of ourselves. Exactly: when, why, what, about anything ARE

This I've said before in many ways, different places, posts; degrees, kinds and types. And I have a profound faith in my thesis since personal investigation, via self education, has lent me a conviction of unity between vastly different people: all races, genders, creeds, intentions and what remains of their lives as lived.

What I conclude is a higher Commonwealth of Consciousness does exist and can be given a voice more reasonable, generous and tolerant than what we have now for governance.

Not a "World Religion" but tolerance of all, a communal sense of the giftedness of all -- for ALL. We do, in my lexicon, belong to one another as Mother Teresa suggested. If I see 'God' everywhere it is merely that I look for THE ALL everywhere. And my vision/version of God is vastly less sentimental than most; less classical, formal or wishful thinking.

REST PERIOD 22:15

I seldom acknowledge my own pain, holding suffering off, so I must have been exhausted because I don't sleep i die momentarily. Car horns, door bells and telephones cannot awaken me.

The smiles, touches, affirmations we give one another identify of us humanity willing to love unconditionally those we'll never see again no gratuity or request for anything else exactly as God does to me I do you -- by this I mean towards strangers those who we'll never see again -- and our random gifts may be the only kindness "Jesus" in the poor & meek will ever know in this resurrection cycle. . . .Be not afraid, have no fear allowing no fear to own you: BE GENERIOUS indiscriminately. Neither idle boast nor proud M&M give 20~25% gratuities to wait staff.

Where I purchase my bulk cigarette tobacco, American Spirit, Clara Bell the gal who once asked; "How's your Christmas going?" In transparent honesty I told her my son died December 10th to which she replied my daughter too sometime near that time. We have become friends not acquaintances. A few months ago she had a little sign folded on the drive through counter asking for donations for her Aunt's medical needs, Adult Onset Leukemia in old Mexico. Every ten days or so I'd be sure to have enough cash to give her a ten or twenty for her cause.

I am ignoble by nature, this is no boast, since I profoundly accept "let your right hand not know what your left is doing" meaning don't let on or anyone know you've done it. Bill Gates is a very rich ass hole who represents the theft of Intellectual Property Rights of creative people. He never created anything in his life accept wealth giving him the power to take from me and make nice with the poor he selects for his aggrandizement.

my life has always been a study in suicide never having found a reason to live i'd laugh @ myself in the mirror wondering if I would have the courage to end it as Jerzy Kosinski of "The Painted Bird" did with a common white lettered plastic grocery bag in the bath tub so they could simply flush away is shit and urine -- you must intuit that in order to fully humiliate Jesus they murdered him nude so those feet I hold with the large spikes are actually covered in urine and shit -- fuck the Pope's who put pasties on penises and while we're at it FUCK PAPAL INFALIBILITY yet this old white boy is more Catholic than they are since it is all that remains of the original goy church but at that I am more a Shaker or Quaker than anything 'Christian'

I've a friend, well she told me to take a hike, who asked once what was meant by the following; "If you see Buddha walking down the road kill Him!" Took awhile to realize that I was her "beard" gay she was is maybe still is. "Beard" in lesbian lexicon means a token make to pass as not being gay.

Buddha's premise was and remains that we are all Buddha's so any ass hole pretending to be him is a fraud. My vision/version of the 'joke' or Koan. Think about The Sound of One Hand? Or did the tree falling in the forest make a sound if no one was there to hear it? Most politicians being psychopaths & amoral should not be allowed out of their cribs much less pretend nobility or god hood. Wankers one & all playing with themselves in public sans clothes or crowns

Recent events: I was in such pain that I actually thought about cutting my nuts off with a paring knife. I know I'd have bled out in a minute or so. The plastic grocery bag or gasoline flicking my Bic would have been kinder. The Emergency Room staff told me my blood pressure was a stroke/cardiac arrest level. I'm happily still here minus one testicle and glad I listened, in this case, to my suffering.

We are an nation of emigrants. The people here before us, and before them, and so on, had no sense of ownership but gratitude for the providence of The Great Spirit . . . what we now call "God."

I have apparently always felt, thought, sensed and intuited myself inadequate and unworthy of life or love. It has taken years of keeping/writing a personal journal to merely and simply write that sentence without hysteria. I still feel that way thus my ideation of suicide continues.

Isolated by choice, chance or the indifference of those around me has armored me. The armor, however, has dings, rust, cracks and vents through which the love of random strangers have kept me walking and talking; I now have friends and community that seem to love if not merely accept or endure me as i am. Could it be that they see in my eyes what I see in theirs: the same longing to be real and beloved of All that is Good . . . & . . . experiential.

Kindness and generosity become their own justification, not a gesture, but a personal truth. It seems that my face against the cold light green tile walls of the emergency room began another 'conversion experience.' What I prefer to call an "Extrusion" refining me to something less than I previously thought myself to be . . . LESS IS MORE! Humble and meek more so than ever in my grief and unending ideation of suicide I am well now; healed.

I do not know our Bible nearly so well as I'd like to. But remember many cockleburs stuck in the fleshy parts of my mind. Words, couplets, stanzas and parables that have caused me to pause before slipping off a midnight Christmas Eve bridge. In most cases it wasn't the words by themselves but more often those who in love gave them to me in prefect intuition that what they gave was what I needed -- desperately -- at that moment. And the messages go on and on daily, minute by second by words, deeds expressions of love silently passing across the space between us all. The greatest value is love and love given freely without expectation of anything but the feeling of love passing through us . . . is that the Light of The World?

i think so

amen

PS Life and love are difficult but not impossible, the obverse is too possible and will end the entire planet as a viable place to live.

120822 18:29 who are we?
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

Marriage is made, not in Heaven, but between 2 equals

Disquiet agitation/an alchemical transformation/fizzing up around my mind/this hour, this day, this date long ago & the Bride-of-My-Youth

Though I am by habit one to annotate the special days of others I have no idea whether it was this day or the 24th when we were formally hitched . . . i do not believe in divorce since it is not of me or Heaven or her but of men whose laws deal exclusively in the realm of property knowing the cost but never the value of anything.

We are hours, miles & theologies apart Yet I love her unreasonably. As I did in third grade when first I laid eyes upon her -- Nothing can change that.

No one and nothing can be exclusively what I value it as -- save in the prayer wheel of my heart: a large embossed drum spun by many hands, eyes, fingers in passing, bearing many of their and my prayers: common in Tibet.

Having been touched by the Dalai Lama, his hand shaken in passing, when I did not know and value Thomas Merton whose hand he also shook. And I do now as I do my first and great love no longer know well or intimately . . . should I say sexually for we were never intimate in the profound friendship of a Dalai and a Merton. Or as I now know intimacy greater than anything save the intimacy with/for God.

She bore the children I mourn. And being their mother: of enormous value, reverence and love still. Though perceptually they remained moldering between us never intimately discussed -- conversed --dialoged about. Essential to grief with one you trust. At that, if no one, then weep with God who will heal you given sufficient time. Possibly not now, this life, but the next when we gather together in the rive of love above infinite.

In God I've become essentially celibate. Yet given his/her non accountability since the removal of one testicle and my solo demonstration that all other things remaining are operative. I believe I may or might once before dying; should I find a friend willing to grant me the pleasure of her body: I will in fact and deed fuck her. Again I beg, no, beseech you forgive my trespass since I am a common ordinary old man who still can.

I accept my sisters definition as favorable in the following sense: Fornication Under the Consent of the King. Though I could, but not now, elaborate on this and many other issues sexual. I equally prize the reference of another lover, adultery then & still: guilty but loved unreasonably said; "Don't say this 'sucks' since sucking is wonderful, divine and an exquisite joy."

Creativity is a realm of creating your Self, already given but hidden, unique and nonesuch ever before or afterward. Competition only applies with the soul/Self none other. Regarding all other things competition is good and improves the breed's ability to survive: Not Darwin's theory as misinterpreted by the greedy.

Don't be simply well but be so damn bad that all others the lame, the poor the blind will follow you anywhere even rats.

 120822 0612 marriage
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

Freedom is your sole possession greater in value than your body, it's health and welfare. Once entered and inhabited: a wealth beyond counting or measurement; immaterial

Always virgin, asexual, being both female and male in equal parts balanced.

Freedom is a soul unbound. Never enslaved by it's author: the energy, or self: what we by self-limiting call "God."

If I know God at all it is by the definition of others vastly different from me by creed. Meaning simply that their version is slightly different than mine but describes, what is in essence, the same qualities I live by and will die for; so vast is the love received: what matter me or my life in gift returned.

As I write I cannot eschew the orphans by AID's, poverty, ill health, violence domestic and international. Who, by any means or measures, simply die for our indifference to their plight.

I am ignoble in my concern; for there is too little, too late and insufficient my concern or mere awareness of the facts to aid them making their life the glory I know true of all life. And while the world was once awash in currency it is now hoarded by a few at the expense of many. In, of and for myself alone, I call them murder's. Yet as God leads so I follow to respect their choice by the implications of free will and foretell of no consequence greater than witness the consequence nakedly revealed as it is to me now, before now and endlessly conscious.

"The truth will set you free" -- LOOK IT UP! Yet this self evident truth espoused by Gandhi and Jesus and many -- many more of both genders and many creeds is ignored by those who instead of joy seek pleasure. I, while in concern of the millions, am equally conscious of the individual souls raped, tortured, mutilated and/or cut apart and hidden in shame; the crimes against not the one; but the all of us.

Add I am concerned for the theft of liberty by anyone or nation who would expunge Habeas Corpus thus holding captive without due process the laws of man. Astonished to find Abraham Lincoln invoked this in a time of war -- having too little time to ferret out his rational -- to me inexcusable especially of one who I presume a Saint.

Humankind's laws are reactionary, while God's are reasonable, as experienced by me: react versus proactive. By which I imply nothing but personal observance.  Obviously I am not religious but then neither is God.

We are.

I infer our adherence to statutes established in a time of few people, seem impractical, in a time of over population to the extent of being, roughly, at 1/3 over capacity. This earth, our home, and nest. Soon to rise at a fantastic rate; too many more than probable sustenance.

Take special interest in "The Ten Commandments" which I cannot argue theologically but think were established long before Moses was a twinkle in God's eyes. By oral tradition passed forward from before the time of Gilgamesh 2500 years before the birth, murder, resurrection of Jesus whose name was never "Christ" until after his death and worship by the goy.

There is no end to my love of and for God. Therefore I will close with the following: I am a patient man aggrieved by not merely the deaths of my children but of all children. So long as I have breathe can stand forward will I belabor those who hoard instead of share even the lesser part, a tithe, a mere ten percent.

Foot Note: In response to my published query for reasons, the popularity of my blog post on Eric Hoffer, this is my intuitive reply to the silence I received despite the greatest number of 'hits' of anything written by me.

Be well . . . the difference between aggression and assertion is that the former means the rape of Iraq the latter implies the commonwealth of life is shared . . . simplistic but close enough for now, for America.

Again be well and rejoice in all things, I say again rejoice and be well,
Amen

120822 0411 freedom
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

. . . addendum
an intuitive guess from Horace:

"Adversity has the effect of eliciting talents, which, in prosperous circumstances, would have lain dormant."
"Anger is a short madness."
"Carpe diem! Rejoice while you are alive; enjoy the day; live life to the fullest; make the most of what you have. It is later than you think."
"Cease to inquire what the future has in store, and take as a gift whatever the day brings forth."
"He has not lived badly whose birth and death has been unnoticed by the world."
"He who postpones the hour of living rightly is like the rustic who waits for the river to run out before he crosses."
"I am not bound over to swear allegiance to any master; where the storm drives me I turn in for shelter."

. . . my way of fucking you -- or with you . . .

120822 02:36 beloved adversary

in reply http://culturalbook.com/profiles/blogs/always-wannabe-con-man-at-thirteen-to-his-wizardry?commentId=6443008%3AComment%3A78554&xg_source=msg_com_blogpost
to Wilson B. Sanchez

May I call you "dear," Wilson, my beloved contra self?

Of all the potential directions I awoke with, after a few, yet perhaps too many brief hours of rest. I awoke knowing myself impelled to choose some venue, or issue, to address; and love came first. And as in squat tag: you're IT!

Among the many grief's I've known: my impossible ignorance of language, not merely comprehension of my lingua franca, but apprehension of Spanish -- as spoken here -- referred to as Spanglish. You draw me compellingly into not fight or flight but engagement since I love your mind.

And though I am by nature, penchant and proclivity drawn to sexuality with women I freely confess that there is one man for whom no sexual act I could refuse since I love him nearly to my love for God. I intuit that my family those who serve the dying know since we have no fear of kissing upon meeting or parting nor holding hands while walking and conversing. . . .Love knows no boundaries in God, myself, or as he love to call himself 'Juan Carlos.'

I have vast acquaintanceship with the arts and crafts of erotica. Since in large measure pornography once completed does not remind me to put out the trash for collection afterwards. And beneath that, more compellingly, is -- at along last discovered thanks (specifically to pornography) -- the issue of trust. And all the women of my acquaintance have betrayed me on that specific issue aborting my fragile more feminine vulnerability to betrayal. I recall most if not all that the bride of my youth said in reference to us; "I feel as though I'm walking upon eggs." I will not bore you with details since they are an endless museum of slander unimaginable to herself.

Finally, before penetrating your: "Once more you catch my attention in the beginning, then lead me astray',to finally abandon me in a wood I've been before (that is, one you've left me alone in the past with most of your other posts). Porqua? Thought we were friends?"

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=porqua

Dearest, we are friends, and it may well be my way of fucking you -- or with you -- to draw you into a conspiracy with yourself. Like sex with another person, relationship is more than giving what they request, it is equally, or more so the giving of one's Self. Not always a "Happy Ending" but an invitation to something more, for me equally sacred, friendship.

Thus if I love, I love with the depth, breadth, height, width and unending endurance of God's love for not merely me but all humanity.

Be well Amigo. Let us join again in jest or joust for I prize the contest. Which for me is win/win.

Perhaps your "darkening wood" is your problem; not mine. For myself: I've walked through the center of hell finding myself in a different version of it passing for the common coin of culture in our time. Beset with terror, manipulated by fear, preached by fools who want only my wealth and/or health. Perchance for me to disappear and no longer question their motives. . . . If you "Trust in God" you must answer to God eventually.

. . . my wish, will, prayer for you is that you find God your friend within and that God's will be expressed to your benefit -- as in mine -- to be fucked over by God is play not punishment.

120821 16:40 touring car

Once committed towards a certain goal he, dad, was maniacal wouldn't stop for God playing bumper tag with Yellow Cabs just to get the fuck out of Manhattan in rush hour traffic & then somewhere around midway I'd have to pee after all when it began those school vacation days accompanying him on his weekly trips i was twelve? Didn't matter where or when we were passing filling or emptying stations by the million or so it seemed while he regaled me with legends from Shakespeare's Globe Theater where in the commoners stood in the orchestra while the Nob's stood above, no seats or toilets then, peeing indiscriminate/indeterminately into the orchestra . . . and then while banging his knee against the side door to keep awake he'd rear back his head and call; "I say Gov! Howabout waffling it about a bit" No longer curious regarding my sphincter control i'd roll my by now yellow eyes in agony.

There was no "good, better, best" mercantile mind though he taught me well to flimflam customers into buying anything; a junior always wannabe con man at thirteen to his wizardry.

But most often recalled was the open touring car with a family of sizeable proportions inclusive of Grandparents both sets or sides and distant relatives: Aunts, Uncles, cousins 1st, 2nd, 3rd generations --- you see as dad would have or describe it the open touring car was more like than unalike a gigantic Yellow International School Bus with the top torn away driven by, of course the Patriarch -- women weren't allowed to drive then -- of the current ruling family And then there were no stopping places of convenience; a sort of early deserted landscape traversed by only rich and snobbish motorist; devoid of Bill Boards, trees, the farm out buildings to vastly distant, no scrub brush in sight and yet the road ruts jiggling ones bladder back and forth, up then down, jarringly.

So the entire assemblage a sort of bump shuttle like the Staten Island Ferry's would jostle about raising and lowering skirts pantaloons petticoats bustles granny shawls straw boaters spats argil knickers with soft caps or baseball shit kicker fashion front to back or visor forward in Eagle Scout fashion canes covered in alligators goat beaver diamonds pearls wolf heads rubies and an occasional coonskin cap with tail attached. Hoping upon and down up off a rather small funnel inserted in the middle of the touring car leaving a tsunami of urine in its wake.

Oh sweet Jesus in a little red wagon towed by a dragon farting fire i'd love to see a TV movie of that!

Guess I'll have to pitch it to Rupert Murdock to fill in when he's no longer able to moon the public expressing noxious gas out of his ass or entertaining them with vacuous tits and ass Ayn Rand bobble headed dolls or Chiclets toothed reporters in Armini Suits . . . see please; for your delectation or indoctrination -- possibly dictation of attitudes selfish and screw the poor to death:

http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2012/08/21/ayn-rand-appeal/

I am an old man unafraid of the congress of baboons or Fox -- not news but propaganda -- TV. We are not a free democratic electorate but one attacked on all sides by fear.

The stain of Republicans seem to have decided to let the good times roll seeking more welfare for corporations & individuals of obscene wealth who in their turn have bankrupted not only The United States of America but the entire world in the bargain. I exaggerate via artistic licence no longer constrained by journalistic ethics. I was a journalist and have many friends who are conservative of/by various kinds and degrees regarding what we should all be concerned about.

Were I to be limited in choice, what I would like to view; I don't want, cannot afford, and would not view, any more than I listen to NPR, during the carnival of electoral politics. Since I am ashamed of what we've become globally. We've killed millions to achieve no victory in Iraq, Vietnam, Korea; theirs and ours.

I have neither degree nor ordination to help those in need save the all too frequent encounters with the homeless, the mentally ill (also homeless) the bereaved, or soon to be so and their beloved. And finally, perhaps, and I pray so, I will remind you that I have grievance against the entire medical community, their insurers and the entire Christian Church for not standing forward and insisting upon Jesus' recommendations regarding mercy, forgiveness and to love our enemies . . . about which I know more from eating my imaginary guilt for their deaths; my two beloved children. The why, the how, the when and then their body or ashes interred.

I have a deeply personal relationship with the person or energy we call 'God' of which I will attempt to no longer belabor you. Yet in death I look forward to debating with William F. Buckley what he imagined would become of his brilliant rhetoric and nominally Ayn Rand whose books I read during my youth.

As I did with H. L. Mencken, Kafka, Huxley and Orwell . . . the list is actually endless.

At that I have nothing higher than a suspect high school degree coupled with an actionable record of mental illness: manic depression for which there is no definitive cognitive or quantifiable medical test.

In closing I sight Pussy Riot as an example of tyrannies process of disabling protest/doubt/descent by captivity or internment in mental institutions. Wondering now why are they, the rulers of the world, so terrified of the generation to follow our failures?

All I can imagine, at this time soon to end of my life, is to encourage others, particularly the PTSD and co-dependants & actually mentally ill. To take charge and change themselves; the only part of the Universe we actually have authority over; knowing some joy and peace before it all implodes. Never forget that I, like Rush Limbaugh, are essentially entertainers in the market place of ideas.

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

no web crawler am i since giving up serial masturbation in error assuming the truth given by friend male/female -- Priest/Minister -- or foe female/male that my prostate would remain viable should only i exorcize it daily

a practice i've grown bored with until I discovered this site in lieu of those other all to frequently pursed @ 72 nearly too soon colliding an onrushing train in the blight of my soon eternal nights The before and after Nabokov's eternal abyss preceding and following what we call 'life' not lateral but vertical falling upon me this flabby old white man giggling in delight:( either way actually:)

so general praise hosannas & kudos Glen (by the way i've requested that we be friends or at the very least frenamies)

about your query: I kneel if not genuflect or lay face down in awe the implications of discovering another key to what why & how i am daily otherwise sans the naked ladies with goats or dogs. Well actually i favor MILF's generally since I want to know all that is known about why mother destroyed my masculinity in error presuming at 12 i'd had sex with my 6 year-old sister when I wasn't ever then before erect? . . . .more maybe too much more in the later future that is if Wilson doesn't crush me like a fire ant beneath his exquisite critical overview . . . oh sweet fucking Jesus in panties do i love to write!

Maybe for, or about, Wilson's "Dancing with the Devil" i'll say; the greatest evil i've ever known resides inside my head: well actually all of me especially the neither parts

aside from happy endings via prostate massage or messages i continue to follow the lead of one minister, actually, who suggested that while writing a journal one could find sanity versus the insanity of my life: two dead children a moribund marriage a failed yet oddly famous in my time career as a photographer all ritually burned at various points while i crouched distant sucking my thumb until the trash haulers took away the ashes not then confident; did i hairbreadth away from offing myself as the ashes proclaimed or in some deeply unconsciousness make the consciousness that writes -- sure not me for i no longer have an ego.

yet i malinger molesting prose or poetry to the co-dependents and PTSD who like me wonder daily as they wander through the cesspool we've made of our world; "It not now, when?" for perpetual suicides rehearse the ideation daily, hourly, minute by second WTF i am going to do? Nothing makes any sense of breathing another heart beat into motion.

Among heroines/heroes who have saved me, by morning ritual crawling quote sites, Emerson though GRAND is merely one of many who have kept my nose nominally above drowning in the cesspool drool of those who purport to lead us to safety by terrifying us of, or about, ourselves & enemies real or imaginary e.g. George W. Bush et al + his puppet master  Uncle Bob a once adored figure the two of them Howdy Doody & on TV viewed in childhood remembered simply for Cheney fisting both the wooden doll and the world with his Snark humorlessness into bankruptcy . . . this is, really too wonderful to litter a 'comment box' i think i'll post it in addition -- thanks for the opportunity!

In closing I'll add to your list of angelic heroes: -- again, merely one of legion if know what to look for:

"It is a thorny undertaking, and more so than it seems, to follow a movement so wandering as that of our mind, to penetrate the opaque depths of its innermost folds, to pick out and immobilize the innumerable flutterings that agitate it." --Michel de Montaigne
Montaigne's axiom: "Nothing is so firmly believed as that which least is known."

120821 14:14 reply Glenn S Dorfman

http://culturalbook.com/forum/topics/ralph-waldo-emerson-we-need-to-tread-and-digest-more-of-him?xg_source=activity

Ralph Waldo Emerson: We need to tread and digest more of him....

© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved

going/gone home!?

Soon i'll be worm shit or ant toys preferring the latter to the former arrangements made long ago

Of peace i've known from time to eternity blest in moments of awareness/dharma/karma

Nearing the ending

The longest epic poem of Love unending minus my last few leafs riffs upon either writ

The former no longer besmirching the flesh of dead trees impressed with poisonous black ink

Only the latter; a fountain of all knowledge for one and all free encircling the globe

I better understand i wasn't alone beside the Ohio, eyes fondling my sister nude, the shackles in John Rankin's attic, at sea aboard Paradox, or blest by Whales aboard Puffin, or sighing ecstasy buried in vipers ordained. more better more the four year old tricycle abandoned squatting beside a nest of baby pigeons beaks lifted rictus of hunger never slaked crying sightless the heavens providence

But simply as anonymous save for amulets worn constantly varying save for the turquoise ring M gave matching my eyes best days rested no blood shot whites

Moving no longer like a wolf sleeping briefly hunting longer but shark constantly never sleeping death attendant extinction assured

Honey i'm ready for the oven or dumpster don't bother to enslave me to conservative lies slavishly slathered across the media at enormous expense to steal our/my heath the minds of those who like me survived the last individual/corporate war + depression or recession lied misnamed!?

Burn or trash me with the bracelets made by Tibetans self immolating old rudraksha sherpa coral & Bodhi Seeds mala Add the clay motley colored beads by AID's borne mothers who husbands hacked to death or disappeared tying to feed their children & oh, yes please don't forget my Jerusalem Cross they're of no use My time served they jingling upon my right wrist. Encircling/ennobling  my right hand while God held the other at all times in prayer continual answered

120821 11:20 gone home?
© 2012 by Jack Spratt All Rights Reserved