I put the capsule in my mouth and swallowed.
I had just violated Trip Instruction #1. Never Trip With Strangers.
Bloomington, Indiana. Indiana University Campus. March 7, 1970.
Crowds were gathering for the Total Eclipse of the Sun festivities. I knew no one.
The capsule came from a guy that was in the Biology class I rarely attended.
I was also violating other Trip Instructions: Don't Trip if you are Depressed and Lonely.
But all of my other trips had been spectacularly beautiful. All was Love. Surrounded with friends. Heaven on Earth. All laughing up in a huge tree in a Memphis park, or laughing as the paintings in a museum came so alive that you could walk into them and feel the wind blow and hear the birds and see the light sparkle as it came through the leaves, no paint - alive.
The question that haunted me all my life was answered so simply: All is God: as close as the cells of my body - not far away. Bliss, covered by the veil of the ordinary. Can I stay this way forever, please? I don't want the veil to cover my eyes again.
So that is what I thought I would experience that day of the eclipse. Another Trip Truth is that, regardless of what you are told, you don't really know what is in that pill or capsule. Each substance, combined with who you are, produces very different trips.
This was my first bad trip. Horror is too mild a word for the feeling. I did not like melting into a puddle amid my distorted surroundings. Trips are never short. Bad trips last an eternity per second. When the day was over and I began to come down, the sun was setting. The beauty of Ordinary was evident now. I wept. Normal was still waiting here for me. Thank You.
The next day, a large picture of me was on the front page of the I.U. campus newspaper. Another picture of me was in the back with other pictures of the day. Beautiful, wistful, no evidence that I was "tripping my brains out" as we used to say. No more trips for me.
I would love to have copies of those pictures.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Beach of Glass Balls
When I woke up this morning, it was still dark, and my mind was still half dreaming.
I was 5 and I was in Japan, standing on a small deserted beach.
The sky was dark and thick all the way down to the water, but it was not night. The beach was remote, private and muffled. Safe.
I felt that if you set off in a boat, there would be no land mass waiting for you as you headed into the North.
The coast line curved around either side of me. I wanted to stay there.
As I looked around the sand I saw many colored balls of glass, spread around like they had washed ashore. They were different sizes and each had a loop on it. At that age I didn't know what they were, but they made this beach a magical place that I return to in my dreams.
I was 5 and I was in Japan, standing on a small deserted beach.
The sky was dark and thick all the way down to the water, but it was not night. The beach was remote, private and muffled. Safe.
I felt that if you set off in a boat, there would be no land mass waiting for you as you headed into the North.
The coast line curved around either side of me. I wanted to stay there.
As I looked around the sand I saw many colored balls of glass, spread around like they had washed ashore. They were different sizes and each had a loop on it. At that age I didn't know what they were, but they made this beach a magical place that I return to in my dreams.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Stealing Beauty
A. Beauty is leaving tomorrow morning, to go to live with a former diplomat and several generations of his family, in Macerata, Italy.
She is running around trying to say good-by to her many dear friends, and to get packed.
I asked if they lived in a lovely villa, and her father said, "Castle, much bigger than a villa, a castle!" We'll see! * It's name is Villa -----, so that settles that! *
I love her courage!
And, I hope her little charge is not the brat from H---. * I should have said 'charges'. They look like darling little twin girl babies. *
She is running around trying to say good-by to her many dear friends, and to get packed.
I asked if they lived in a lovely villa, and her father said, "Castle, much bigger than a villa, a castle!" We'll see! * It's name is Villa -----, so that settles that! *
I love her courage!
And, I hope her little charge is not the brat from H---. * I should have said 'charges'. They look like darling little twin girl babies. *
Monday, September 19, 2005
The Chinese and Hebrew Of It All
I didn't know that numbers, in Chinese, meant things, like auspicious or inauspicious fortune cookie messages. I wonder how many other cultures have that?
It made me think of this poem that Savant wrote when he was 17 or 18. Somewhere in that time when we were first made aware of his schizophrenia (a.k.a. persistent psychotic state).
I didn't understand the poem. He explained to me that in Hebrew, numbers made words, or letters, or had meanings the way words do. I just assumed he knew it was true.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
snails:
your synapses are like
snails making
no connections
or irrelevant
ones twos and threes
all about the fours it must
fives now, all about the
numerology, the
Hebrew of it all.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
It is hard to believe he will be 21 soon. This past month or two have been a break in the severe "care-giver" stress I've been living with, these past three years.
Being diligent about taking his medicine has brought him closer to reality, even though I know he still struggles inside. And an employee of the center where he is now getting treatment, realized that she lives near us, so she has been picking him upon her way to work, on some of the days he has his appointments. The center is almost an hour away. (We don't have "that sort" of people in Franklin.)
A. Beauty switched families, so she won't be in Perugia. She will be closer to the Eastern coast of Italy, but I don't remember the name of the city just now. *(She will have her week days free until later in the day. She is enrolling in a college there; I'm not sure, but I think her focus will be on foreign languages. )* This may have changed now, with the new location.
It made me think of this poem that Savant wrote when he was 17 or 18. Somewhere in that time when we were first made aware of his schizophrenia (a.k.a. persistent psychotic state).
I didn't understand the poem. He explained to me that in Hebrew, numbers made words, or letters, or had meanings the way words do. I just assumed he knew it was true.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
snails:
your synapses are like
snails making
no connections
or irrelevant
ones twos and threes
all about the fours it must
fives now, all about the
numerology, the
Hebrew of it all.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
It is hard to believe he will be 21 soon. This past month or two have been a break in the severe "care-giver" stress I've been living with, these past three years.
Being diligent about taking his medicine has brought him closer to reality, even though I know he still struggles inside. And an employee of the center where he is now getting treatment, realized that she lives near us, so she has been picking him upon her way to work, on some of the days he has his appointments. The center is almost an hour away. (We don't have "that sort" of people in Franklin.)
A. Beauty switched families, so she won't be in Perugia. She will be closer to the Eastern coast of Italy, but I don't remember the name of the city just now. *(She will have her week days free until later in the day. She is enrolling in a college there; I'm not sure, but I think her focus will be on foreign languages. )* This may have changed now, with the new location.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Air Force Brat
I sometimes get emails from my father, that have been forwarded to huge numbers of former military folk before it gets to him, and then he sends it along to his mailing list. Depending on which way the wind is blowing, that may include his kids, some of whom are Democrats. He is a life long Republican and cannot have a conversation with us Dems without getting pissed off. My brother frequently has to inform him to check "snopes" before believing everything he is being told by his buddies. Snopes is a website that exposes hoaxes, and confirms truthful stories.
I got an email today from someone who has an email address that I've seen before, on my dad's Military mailing list. It was really long, but "PBam59361", was glad to be able forward a letter, supposedly, from the Commanding Officer of the USS Iwi Jima, now in The Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina:
--- PBam59361@---- wrote:> From:Fernhaven@---> Date: Thu, 15 Sep 2005 22:49:32 EDT> Subject: Fwd: Fw: From the USS Iwo Jima> Subject: Fw: From the USS Iwo Jima> From: "Martin" n1jma@---> Date: Thu, 15 Sep 2005 20:27:25 -0400 (EDT) > Subject: Fw: From the USS Iwo Jima:
This is written by Captain Richard S. Callas. Who is the Commanding Officer of the USS Iwo Jima (LHD 7) He is a native of Wellesley and Newton, Massachusetts, Capt. Callas graduated from Boston College and was commissioned through Officer Candidate School in 1979
--------------------------------
Hello All,
Since I took command of the USS IWO JIMA over a year ago, I felt as though I had control of the destiny of the ship. I thought I lost it today, the first time ever, and we were merely reacting to events rather than controlling them.
Within the first 24 hours after arriving pierside in New Orleans, the IWO JIMA has become many things. We are one of the few full service airports in the area and have been operating aircraft on and off our deck for almost 15 hours each day.
We are one of the only air conditioned facilities within a ten mile radius and though we have had problems making water from the polluted Mississippi, and we are the only hot shower within miles. All day long, we have been accommodating local policemen, firemen, statetroopers, national guard, 82nd Airborne division personnel with hot showers & hot food. I met an ambulance team from Minnesota who just drove straight to New Orleans when they heard of the tragedy and have been supporting hospitals free of chargefor the last week. They hadn't had a hot meal in over a week and were grateful to have the opportunity to have lunch onboard.
The Deputy Commander of the RI National Guard reported to me he had guardsmen who were whipped, yet after a hot shower and an IWO JIMA breakfast, theywere ready to hit the patrols again. Rarely have I seen so many smiling, happy faces than on these people. After two weeks in the trenches sleeping on concrete floors, no shower, and eating MREs, good ship IWO JIMA has been a Godsend to them.
I had an opportunity to talk to the Directorof Homeland Security for a few minutes in my cabin. I asked him if there was any- thing more I could do for him, he asked if he could get a shower. I was glad to turn over my cabin to him. The local FEMA coordinator, his logistics and security teams were on my quarter- deck this afternoon asking permission to set up their command center on the pier next to the ship. While they had sophisticated command and control equipment, they had no place to berth their 250 FEMA members. We were glad to give them a home. Contrary to the press, all the FEMA people I met had been on station since last Sunday (before the Hurricane hit), never left the area, and have been in the field ever since.
The command duty officer was told a state trooper had driven 80 miles to get to the ship. And he said that the word was out: Come to IWO JIMA. So we expect that the flood gates will open on us.
Early this morning, we received our first medical emergency. An elderly woman with stroke-like symptoms. And through-out the day we received about a dozen medical emergencies. The most serious was an elderly man who had been stabbed in the chest and was bleeding to death. The doctors performed surgery on him and saved his life. As I toured the hospital ward, I found all our charges were elderly & disadvantaged individuals. As with Hotel IWO JIMA, we expect to see many more casualties tomorrow.
Our curse appears to be our flight deck and our extraordinary command and control capabilities. Our challenge today was the tidal wave of Flag and General Officers that flooded onboard, 17 total, virtually all without notice. I couldn't believe there were so many involved in this effort and they all wanted to come here. They poured onto the flight deck in one helicopter after another in order to meet with General Honore, the JointTask Force Commander. The majority showed up around the same time and all wanted to leave at the same time, making it a nightmare for our flight deck team to control and coordinate flights on and off the ship for all these admirals & generals while supporting the humanitarian effort. I spent most of the day running around the ship getting these people off and on helicopters and in and out of the meetings and command spaces. While it was like herding cats, the ship performed superbly and "flexed"to meet the challenge.
Regretfully, we expect nearly 20 admirals and generals onboard tomorrow for more meetings. To add to the challenges, virtually all of these commands are sending liaison staffs to help coordinate issues, and already a number of admirals and generals have "permanently" embarked. The Inn is full.
I talked to one of the FEMA team members who had also worked the disaster relief for 9/11. I asked him how much more difficult was the Katrina relief effort compared to 9/11. He said it was without measure, thousand of times worse than 9/11. He couldn't articulate the magnitude of the destruction. Despite all the challenges, I think we regained control by the end of the day. We are forearmed for tomorrow's onslaught.
At our evening Dept Head meeting, I asked all my principals to tell me what the stupidest thing they heard or saw today. The list was enormous. The most absurd item was when my Tactical Action Officer, who runs our 24 hour command center (CIC) got a phone call from the Director of the New Orleans Zoo. Apparently, there was a large fire near the zoo. It was so intense, the fire department had to abandon the cause, while military helos were heavily engaged in scooping up giant buckets ofwater and dumping in on the blaze in an effort to put it out. The director complained to us the noise from the helos was disturbing the animals, especially the elephants, which he was most concerned about, and asked us to stop. The TAO thanked him for his interest in national defense.
It is inspiring to meet and talk to such a huge number of individuals who are doing the Lord's work to recover this city. They have had little sleep, little food, no showers, working 16-18 hours a day, and in some cases no pay, and they are thanking ME for a hotmeal!
---------------------------
Me again; I replied to the whole lot of them with a simple question:
You did not mention any meals or showers for the people of the gulf coast. Are they getting those on the Cruise Ships? - Airforce Brat
Which didn't get an answer yet, except , the "Who the hell are you and why are you writing to me?" sort.
Who is PBam59361? Do I really care? No.
Some people sure do get grumpy when you just ask a simple question!
Sounded like quite an exciting time on the military ship, USS Iwo Jima, what with all the showers and food and big wigs. I'm as patriotic as the next person, I just thought it seemed odd that the letter didn't mention any accomodations, except for the few in the hospital ward, for the huge numbers of desperate people who have been trapped in the city for days.
I got an email today from someone who has an email address that I've seen before, on my dad's Military mailing list. It was really long, but "PBam59361", was glad to be able forward a letter, supposedly, from the Commanding Officer of the USS Iwi Jima, now in The Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina:
--- PBam59361@---- wrote:> From:Fernhaven@---> Date: Thu, 15 Sep 2005 22:49:32 EDT> Subject: Fwd: Fw: From the USS Iwo Jima> Subject: Fw: From the USS Iwo Jima> From: "Martin" n1jma@---> Date: Thu, 15 Sep 2005 20:27:25 -0400 (EDT) > Subject: Fw: From the USS Iwo Jima:
This is written by Captain Richard S. Callas. Who is the Commanding Officer of the USS Iwo Jima (LHD 7) He is a native of Wellesley and Newton, Massachusetts, Capt. Callas graduated from Boston College and was commissioned through Officer Candidate School in 1979
--------------------------------
Hello All,
Since I took command of the USS IWO JIMA over a year ago, I felt as though I had control of the destiny of the ship. I thought I lost it today, the first time ever, and we were merely reacting to events rather than controlling them.
Within the first 24 hours after arriving pierside in New Orleans, the IWO JIMA has become many things. We are one of the few full service airports in the area and have been operating aircraft on and off our deck for almost 15 hours each day.
We are one of the only air conditioned facilities within a ten mile radius and though we have had problems making water from the polluted Mississippi, and we are the only hot shower within miles. All day long, we have been accommodating local policemen, firemen, statetroopers, national guard, 82nd Airborne division personnel with hot showers & hot food. I met an ambulance team from Minnesota who just drove straight to New Orleans when they heard of the tragedy and have been supporting hospitals free of chargefor the last week. They hadn't had a hot meal in over a week and were grateful to have the opportunity to have lunch onboard.
The Deputy Commander of the RI National Guard reported to me he had guardsmen who were whipped, yet after a hot shower and an IWO JIMA breakfast, theywere ready to hit the patrols again. Rarely have I seen so many smiling, happy faces than on these people. After two weeks in the trenches sleeping on concrete floors, no shower, and eating MREs, good ship IWO JIMA has been a Godsend to them.
I had an opportunity to talk to the Directorof Homeland Security for a few minutes in my cabin. I asked him if there was any- thing more I could do for him, he asked if he could get a shower. I was glad to turn over my cabin to him. The local FEMA coordinator, his logistics and security teams were on my quarter- deck this afternoon asking permission to set up their command center on the pier next to the ship. While they had sophisticated command and control equipment, they had no place to berth their 250 FEMA members. We were glad to give them a home. Contrary to the press, all the FEMA people I met had been on station since last Sunday (before the Hurricane hit), never left the area, and have been in the field ever since.
The command duty officer was told a state trooper had driven 80 miles to get to the ship. And he said that the word was out: Come to IWO JIMA. So we expect that the flood gates will open on us.
Early this morning, we received our first medical emergency. An elderly woman with stroke-like symptoms. And through-out the day we received about a dozen medical emergencies. The most serious was an elderly man who had been stabbed in the chest and was bleeding to death. The doctors performed surgery on him and saved his life. As I toured the hospital ward, I found all our charges were elderly & disadvantaged individuals. As with Hotel IWO JIMA, we expect to see many more casualties tomorrow.
Our curse appears to be our flight deck and our extraordinary command and control capabilities. Our challenge today was the tidal wave of Flag and General Officers that flooded onboard, 17 total, virtually all without notice. I couldn't believe there were so many involved in this effort and they all wanted to come here. They poured onto the flight deck in one helicopter after another in order to meet with General Honore, the JointTask Force Commander. The majority showed up around the same time and all wanted to leave at the same time, making it a nightmare for our flight deck team to control and coordinate flights on and off the ship for all these admirals & generals while supporting the humanitarian effort. I spent most of the day running around the ship getting these people off and on helicopters and in and out of the meetings and command spaces. While it was like herding cats, the ship performed superbly and "flexed"to meet the challenge.
Regretfully, we expect nearly 20 admirals and generals onboard tomorrow for more meetings. To add to the challenges, virtually all of these commands are sending liaison staffs to help coordinate issues, and already a number of admirals and generals have "permanently" embarked. The Inn is full.
I talked to one of the FEMA team members who had also worked the disaster relief for 9/11. I asked him how much more difficult was the Katrina relief effort compared to 9/11. He said it was without measure, thousand of times worse than 9/11. He couldn't articulate the magnitude of the destruction. Despite all the challenges, I think we regained control by the end of the day. We are forearmed for tomorrow's onslaught.
At our evening Dept Head meeting, I asked all my principals to tell me what the stupidest thing they heard or saw today. The list was enormous. The most absurd item was when my Tactical Action Officer, who runs our 24 hour command center (CIC) got a phone call from the Director of the New Orleans Zoo. Apparently, there was a large fire near the zoo. It was so intense, the fire department had to abandon the cause, while military helos were heavily engaged in scooping up giant buckets ofwater and dumping in on the blaze in an effort to put it out. The director complained to us the noise from the helos was disturbing the animals, especially the elephants, which he was most concerned about, and asked us to stop. The TAO thanked him for his interest in national defense.
It is inspiring to meet and talk to such a huge number of individuals who are doing the Lord's work to recover this city. They have had little sleep, little food, no showers, working 16-18 hours a day, and in some cases no pay, and they are thanking ME for a hotmeal!
---------------------------
Me again; I replied to the whole lot of them with a simple question:
You did not mention any meals or showers for the people of the gulf coast. Are they getting those on the Cruise Ships? - Airforce Brat
Which didn't get an answer yet, except , the "Who the hell are you and why are you writing to me?" sort.
Who is PBam59361? Do I really care? No.
Some people sure do get grumpy when you just ask a simple question!
Sounded like quite an exciting time on the military ship, USS Iwo Jima, what with all the showers and food and big wigs. I'm as patriotic as the next person, I just thought it seemed odd that the letter didn't mention any accomodations, except for the few in the hospital ward, for the huge numbers of desperate people who have been trapped in the city for days.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Incomplete
When my daughter was here to celebrate her graduation, cards with money and checks and good wishes were passed to her as we all sat around our living room. What came out of my mouth was more of a prayer that she wouldn't have to pay for early mistakes for the rest of her life, the way I have. I said, "Don't let some man steal your life away from you." I could feel embarrassment and surprise around the room. I could feel my kids thinking,"typical of Mom to blurt out such a thing."
I think she has internalized, along the way, that she doesn't want to be like me: full of regrets.
I can't say, any more, that there is anyone else to blame.
I did grow up with a partially empty heart and that is a major ingredient in the way I saw the world and myself. This was an empty place that I didn't really know existed until much later in life. Sadness and anger were part of what I knew as "normal". I was normal.
As a kid and teenager I thought our family would be perfect if my father were nicer; and it would have, but I want to talk about the reality. I would see nice, loving, protective fathers in Disney movies and while I wished with all my heart I had a father like that, the louder thought was, "Who's going to buy a load of crap like that?!" When my friend's fathers treated me nicely and were loving with their families, I thought they were probably just being on their good behavior because they had company. I always viewed them with suspicion.
Selfish, Self Centered Little Brats - that is what I remember him calling the three of us. I've always believed that I was the worst one, I'm sure I was. My older brother always seemed innocent and shy, to me, and my younger sister was good humored and sweet. She was the best sister I can imagine to grow up with. I would have given my life, without a thought, to save hers. She made every thing she told seem funny. I was dreadfully shy, so I depended on her to find the new kids to play with whenever we moved to a new place. My daughter is fearless like that too. She would be out knocking on doors looking for the kids, sure that more fun was waiting with each new child she found.
I could get side tracked for days here, and I will come back to those tracks in future essays, but there was something specific I wanted to address, and that had to do with feeling like an incomplete person. I was not sure that I was lovable. I always wanted my children to know they had two parents that loved them and would treat them with respect and kindness, so they would not have that feeling, that they were incomplete without a partner to fill the void. I want them to take a partner out of the joy they feel in their companionship and love. Not as the drug that will dull their pain.
I think she has internalized, along the way, that she doesn't want to be like me: full of regrets.
I can't say, any more, that there is anyone else to blame.
I did grow up with a partially empty heart and that is a major ingredient in the way I saw the world and myself. This was an empty place that I didn't really know existed until much later in life. Sadness and anger were part of what I knew as "normal". I was normal.
As a kid and teenager I thought our family would be perfect if my father were nicer; and it would have, but I want to talk about the reality. I would see nice, loving, protective fathers in Disney movies and while I wished with all my heart I had a father like that, the louder thought was, "Who's going to buy a load of crap like that?!" When my friend's fathers treated me nicely and were loving with their families, I thought they were probably just being on their good behavior because they had company. I always viewed them with suspicion.
Selfish, Self Centered Little Brats - that is what I remember him calling the three of us. I've always believed that I was the worst one, I'm sure I was. My older brother always seemed innocent and shy, to me, and my younger sister was good humored and sweet. She was the best sister I can imagine to grow up with. I would have given my life, without a thought, to save hers. She made every thing she told seem funny. I was dreadfully shy, so I depended on her to find the new kids to play with whenever we moved to a new place. My daughter is fearless like that too. She would be out knocking on doors looking for the kids, sure that more fun was waiting with each new child she found.
I could get side tracked for days here, and I will come back to those tracks in future essays, but there was something specific I wanted to address, and that had to do with feeling like an incomplete person. I was not sure that I was lovable. I always wanted my children to know they had two parents that loved them and would treat them with respect and kindness, so they would not have that feeling, that they were incomplete without a partner to fill the void. I want them to take a partner out of the joy they feel in their companionship and love. Not as the drug that will dull their pain.
Monday, September 05, 2005
All Things Considered
All Things Considered:
I am absent the filter
that keeps all things from crossing my mind.
I think I'll start writing more often.
I am absent the filter
that keeps all things from crossing my mind.
I think I'll start writing more often.
Somebody Reviewed & Liked My Blog!
Somebody: bsmoffatt , not only read my blog, but they had given it a review on their web site! I don't care if it was written by Koko the Gorilla, it made my day!
The old blog's name is shown below as "Easily Destroyed" and "Easily Distrac". I have changed it to "Fancy Dirt" now. I keep changing it because I get nervous about anonymity sometimes; dumb, I know. I might have kept the old name if I knew anyone was reading it and liking it!
The review follows:
And so I sat there staring at the computer screen. The lifeless ciphers of my blog blurring into the middle distance. Then I spotted the Next Blog button at the top of the page. I hit it.
Within two hours I had regained my faith in humanity. I'm easy that way.
The world is phat.
PHAT. Pretty Hot and Tempting.
(Phucking Hilarious And Thought-provoking )
Let me start with the last of the next blogs, a neo-blog, easily destroyed. You can tell the neoblogs right away. They still have Edit me, Edit me in the sidebar, unaware or unconcerned about it. These neobloggers are here to write. And I am here to read. And so I do. And here's the first thing I read:
My counselor had to cancel our weekly appointment today. I love to see her, and she is helping me get on with the future. But, I'm a little relieved to have another week. I didn't want to have her see my bandaged wrist, this morning, because I can't lie to her.
I'm hooked.
When I was old enough to see a Doctor on my own, I got the "life's rough, Honey, get used to it!" speech. My next try to get help (I was fairly pretty back then) was met with the, "Yeah, I'd like to have your problems." speech. Then there was the Doctor who decided that fondling my breasts and crotch must be done, by him, immediately. He was shaking and breathing funny during the exam - I was there to get a mole removed.
My broken "People Radar", was my faithful companion.
This is the setup to a near rape in Chapel Hill, NC.
I thought about reporting it to the Police. I pondered that and decided that what they would do to a black man in the South, in the early 1970's, would be much worse than what he had done to me. It never occurred to me, then, that I may not have been his first or last try.
Wait, the world is dynamic and ambiguous and complex. And the metaphors lead to an opening up, not a shutting down. And painful and funny.
There's the continuing saga of 'her son' the 'Idiot like a Savant' who is done, it would seem, with psycho-engineers: he's finished with this infuriating game and does not waste his time on them or their pills any more. He is certified with a grandiose I.Q., has completed two semesters of college making him a Junior who plans to end up with at least three degrees in Physics, Fine Arts, and Mathematics when he graduates. At least that's the plan today. The rub in the whole thing is that, in the past, he has entered a different dimension of reality at times. His work astounds me, and he recently said something to the effect of, "Picture Van Gogh telling people in the loony bin that he will be venerated by the world as one of the greatest artists that ever lived. Sounds like grandiosity to me!"
Still, the Idiot Like a Savant can't get a job at WalMart, to doubly (maybe trebly) repay his debt to society.
He fills out the forms honestly, even the part of the application where they ask if you have ever been convicted of a crime, no matter how petty it was. This is when The United States of America, the Bill of Rights, etc., turn into merely a pretty concept, not the reality of this place we love and live in. That is where the interview ends. That is where the Background Check kicks you in the ass for 7 to 10 years. When the faces go blank with the "Don't call us, we'll (not) be calling you." stare. Well, yesterday it was WalMart's turn.
As I read on I'm not sure if my leg is being pulled or not. But then you read this:
Savant is not himself. We watch his storms roll in. I watch with dread, because he needs to get back on medication, but he claims that it is the medication that makes the people in the TV talk to him when they should be doing their show instead.
Savant better soon learn that the world is flat. (FLAT: Fucking Lousy At Times) Stay tuned. I understand Savant. He suffers at times from an inarticulateness that is described as 'word salad'. I've never heard that expression, but it leaves an impression.
Again, I'm not sure if the writer of this blog is a writer with some keen insights into human character or some human character with some keen insights. It doesn't matter. Humans are phat, humanity a world salad.
But wait. There's More.
There's the night out at the local Golf Club, with Husband #2, a night out with local celebrities Vince Gill and Amy Grant in attendance, a night with a bluegrass band covering Guns'N Roses tunes, a brief vignette on a the professional life of a woman named Melons Galore, twin sister of Pussy, and the author's failed attempt at bulimia:
I have a theory that I must have gained an extraordinary control of my gag reflex from the times I spent having 24 hour "morning sickness" for four months with each of my pregnancies.
I also want to recommend The White Mountain Creamery's excellent ice cream. What you do with it once you leave the store is beyond their control.
This shit rocks. I'm expecting Dick Minim to enter the scene at any time. Him, or The Family Guy.
Still, it's all about Love, all this writing.
Sometimes it feels like these people have an ocean of Love that they have no way to exchange with other people, or don't know how.
Rock on.
The old blog's name is shown below as "Easily Destroyed" and "Easily Distrac". I have changed it to "Fancy Dirt" now. I keep changing it because I get nervous about anonymity sometimes; dumb, I know. I might have kept the old name if I knew anyone was reading it and liking it!
The review follows:
And so I sat there staring at the computer screen. The lifeless ciphers of my blog blurring into the middle distance. Then I spotted the Next Blog button at the top of the page. I hit it.
Within two hours I had regained my faith in humanity. I'm easy that way.
The world is phat.
PHAT. Pretty Hot and Tempting.
(Phucking Hilarious And Thought-provoking )
Let me start with the last of the next blogs, a neo-blog, easily destroyed. You can tell the neoblogs right away. They still have Edit me, Edit me in the sidebar, unaware or unconcerned about it. These neobloggers are here to write. And I am here to read. And so I do. And here's the first thing I read:
My counselor had to cancel our weekly appointment today. I love to see her, and she is helping me get on with the future. But, I'm a little relieved to have another week. I didn't want to have her see my bandaged wrist, this morning, because I can't lie to her.
I'm hooked.
When I was old enough to see a Doctor on my own, I got the "life's rough, Honey, get used to it!" speech. My next try to get help (I was fairly pretty back then) was met with the, "Yeah, I'd like to have your problems." speech. Then there was the Doctor who decided that fondling my breasts and crotch must be done, by him, immediately. He was shaking and breathing funny during the exam - I was there to get a mole removed.
My broken "People Radar", was my faithful companion.
This is the setup to a near rape in Chapel Hill, NC.
I thought about reporting it to the Police. I pondered that and decided that what they would do to a black man in the South, in the early 1970's, would be much worse than what he had done to me. It never occurred to me, then, that I may not have been his first or last try.
Wait, the world is dynamic and ambiguous and complex. And the metaphors lead to an opening up, not a shutting down. And painful and funny.
There's the continuing saga of 'her son' the 'Idiot like a Savant' who is done, it would seem, with psycho-engineers: he's finished with this infuriating game and does not waste his time on them or their pills any more. He is certified with a grandiose I.Q., has completed two semesters of college making him a Junior who plans to end up with at least three degrees in Physics, Fine Arts, and Mathematics when he graduates. At least that's the plan today. The rub in the whole thing is that, in the past, he has entered a different dimension of reality at times. His work astounds me, and he recently said something to the effect of, "Picture Van Gogh telling people in the loony bin that he will be venerated by the world as one of the greatest artists that ever lived. Sounds like grandiosity to me!"
Still, the Idiot Like a Savant can't get a job at WalMart, to doubly (maybe trebly) repay his debt to society.
He fills out the forms honestly, even the part of the application where they ask if you have ever been convicted of a crime, no matter how petty it was. This is when The United States of America, the Bill of Rights, etc., turn into merely a pretty concept, not the reality of this place we love and live in. That is where the interview ends. That is where the Background Check kicks you in the ass for 7 to 10 years. When the faces go blank with the "Don't call us, we'll (not) be calling you." stare. Well, yesterday it was WalMart's turn.
As I read on I'm not sure if my leg is being pulled or not. But then you read this:
Savant is not himself. We watch his storms roll in. I watch with dread, because he needs to get back on medication, but he claims that it is the medication that makes the people in the TV talk to him when they should be doing their show instead.
Savant better soon learn that the world is flat. (FLAT: Fucking Lousy At Times) Stay tuned. I understand Savant. He suffers at times from an inarticulateness that is described as 'word salad'. I've never heard that expression, but it leaves an impression.
Again, I'm not sure if the writer of this blog is a writer with some keen insights into human character or some human character with some keen insights. It doesn't matter. Humans are phat, humanity a world salad.
But wait. There's More.
There's the night out at the local Golf Club, with Husband #2, a night out with local celebrities Vince Gill and Amy Grant in attendance, a night with a bluegrass band covering Guns'N Roses tunes, a brief vignette on a the professional life of a woman named Melons Galore, twin sister of Pussy, and the author's failed attempt at bulimia:
I have a theory that I must have gained an extraordinary control of my gag reflex from the times I spent having 24 hour "morning sickness" for four months with each of my pregnancies.
I also want to recommend The White Mountain Creamery's excellent ice cream. What you do with it once you leave the store is beyond their control.
This shit rocks. I'm expecting Dick Minim to enter the scene at any time. Him, or The Family Guy.
Still, it's all about Love, all this writing.
Sometimes it feels like these people have an ocean of Love that they have no way to exchange with other people, or don't know how.
Rock on.
Hurricane This and FamilyThat
I read that National Geographic piece and it was so accurate, that I did a double-take when I read the part where the writer says, that this has not happened yet, sent my eyes flying to the date, 2004, even though I knew it was an old article, it could have been written last week.
Amazing! So many people want to help and can't. It is so sad that there were the tragic delays.
When our propane company asked us, a few weeks ago, if we wanted to lock in to the going rate, we thought it was high, but agreed. It now seems like a very good move, given the rates and scarcity. This may fall into the Blond Logic catagory (No, that is not an oxymoron!), but doesn't it seem that if the people on the Gulf Coast have no access to gasoline, that there would more for the rest of the country and prices would be dropping instead of getting higher? I know they are saying it has something to do with the refineries, but I have trust issues.
Savant was frightened last night, he was feeling a demonic presence invading his space. It is the evil in people that frightens him too, and the randomness of some acts of violence. I tried to
tell him that most people are good, but I don't know if our conversation helped him relax.
Frightening images on TV are potent and he usually avoids watching TV, I think because the focus of so many shows, promos for shows, and the news, is on the bad.
The random of acts of bad weather, no longer seem random to him. He feels God is angry at him when he hears thunder or the blasting we can feel rattle the house from a quarry nearby.
In a few days he will undergo some IQ and cognitive testing to see if he can qualify for Social Security Disability. I fear that his evaluator won't recognize the agony he goes through on a daily basis, because he is intelligent and medicated, and is not obviously acting schizophrenic. The medicine they have him on seems too weak to me. They have added something for panic, but that also seems too weak.
A. Beauty moved out of her apartment and left for a vacation in Oregon and Washington, last week. She is still waiting on Visa red tape and school acceptance verification in Italy, before she joins a family there.
I almost never hear from A. Prince, but he said he got a job in Nashville at Dillard's, I think. He lives in Murfreesboro, but he has to be in Nashville many times a week, for his methadone treatment, so that is why he took a job there.
G.B. is having his first few days off for this whole year. He has been getting up at the crack of dawn to golf. It is good to see him relax. The man does not know how to be idle. His job is a 7 days a week job at Habitat for Humanity. He is supposed to get at least one day off during the week, but it rarely ever happens.
Our state medical coverage for the uninsurable ended. Before it ended, they said I had a lump in my breast that was probably not cancer, but to come back in four weeks to have it rechecked. Those funny government insurance guys! They knew I'd be off the rolls by then. So I'm ignoring it. I would hope that even with Tennessee's slimy dying health machine, they would have sprung into action if it looked serious.
I'm feeling calmer now that Savant is more stable. I don't believe in horoscopes, but I'm a water sign and I really do take the shape of my container.
Amazing! So many people want to help and can't. It is so sad that there were the tragic delays.
When our propane company asked us, a few weeks ago, if we wanted to lock in to the going rate, we thought it was high, but agreed. It now seems like a very good move, given the rates and scarcity. This may fall into the Blond Logic catagory (No, that is not an oxymoron!), but doesn't it seem that if the people on the Gulf Coast have no access to gasoline, that there would more for the rest of the country and prices would be dropping instead of getting higher? I know they are saying it has something to do with the refineries, but I have trust issues.
Savant was frightened last night, he was feeling a demonic presence invading his space. It is the evil in people that frightens him too, and the randomness of some acts of violence. I tried to
tell him that most people are good, but I don't know if our conversation helped him relax.
Frightening images on TV are potent and he usually avoids watching TV, I think because the focus of so many shows, promos for shows, and the news, is on the bad.
The random of acts of bad weather, no longer seem random to him. He feels God is angry at him when he hears thunder or the blasting we can feel rattle the house from a quarry nearby.
In a few days he will undergo some IQ and cognitive testing to see if he can qualify for Social Security Disability. I fear that his evaluator won't recognize the agony he goes through on a daily basis, because he is intelligent and medicated, and is not obviously acting schizophrenic. The medicine they have him on seems too weak to me. They have added something for panic, but that also seems too weak.
A. Beauty moved out of her apartment and left for a vacation in Oregon and Washington, last week. She is still waiting on Visa red tape and school acceptance verification in Italy, before she joins a family there.
I almost never hear from A. Prince, but he said he got a job in Nashville at Dillard's, I think. He lives in Murfreesboro, but he has to be in Nashville many times a week, for his methadone treatment, so that is why he took a job there.
G.B. is having his first few days off for this whole year. He has been getting up at the crack of dawn to golf. It is good to see him relax. The man does not know how to be idle. His job is a 7 days a week job at Habitat for Humanity. He is supposed to get at least one day off during the week, but it rarely ever happens.
Our state medical coverage for the uninsurable ended. Before it ended, they said I had a lump in my breast that was probably not cancer, but to come back in four weeks to have it rechecked. Those funny government insurance guys! They knew I'd be off the rolls by then. So I'm ignoring it. I would hope that even with Tennessee's slimy dying health machine, they would have sprung into action if it looked serious.
I'm feeling calmer now that Savant is more stable. I don't believe in horoscopes, but I'm a water sign and I really do take the shape of my container.
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