stepping out to a greater love...

stepping out to a greater love...

Perhaps when all is said and done this is the challenge of our age... never mind the hype... where every emphasis is placed on how we can make ourselves more marketable... profitable... oh.... sensible.... practical... logical. They are all distractions. When we seek profit and marketability we're just looking to take from others. We buy in... to a belief that self aggrandizement is good for all.... that an iPod in the hand is better than a Zimbabwe free from cholera....

This is not a condemnation... this is how we were built... had to be built.... to last this long... but to last longer we need a new evolution. We need to step out to a greater love.

Sadly we are often born and raised into a smaller love. An easy love. Many of us have a love of family... friends.... of country but then only "our country" and no love for the rest. They are, after all, the other. Whether they be the Mexican, the Black, the White, the Arab, the Asian, the gay, the punk, the hippie, the jock, the urban elitist, the redneck, the Joe Six Pack, the burner..... Whatever they are the small love excludes them. They are radical and will destroy society. They are a menace. The small love doesn't want to know about "their" loves, ambitions, their ideas..... the small love dismisses.

I know plenty about being dismissed. I dress funny. I don't always wear shoes. I say strange things that have to be thought about. Rather than "apply myself" and go through the motions of a routine life, I sought to make an art, and to speak a truth even though the cost is very high.... ridiculously high I might add. Yeah.. I am the "other"... plenty of the time. It can be a pretty lonely and terrible place to be sometimes.

Last week, I went out to a redneck bar and shot some pool. I watched a little of March Madness. I even went to a Hooter's. The waitress sat and hung out with us (....as is their job.... sadly). She talked about having dinner with family on a Saturday night. Bland conversation for an urban elitist for sure and she was a terrible waitress.... but I do not dismiss her... or the yahoos rooting for Michigan State (...as am I). I know enough about people that they will all go back to a family and love them and try to make happiness and get by as best they know how.....

That is not just the way I feel about the people at Hooter's though. It is the way I feel about Republicans, Palestinians, Afghans, and jocks. Whatever.

I could hate... that is easier but I found the greater love is better. Though not easy, it is something that can be taught and is far more rewarding than the small love. I would not trade anything for all the good that has been brought to me from people of different points of view and persuasions...

The trick is simple. Question authority. Your authority. When you feel or think a certain way... step outside.... and look at it from there. You may find that you were right. You may find that you were wrong... in a bad way or a good way... we do love to accept way too much of what we love and deny way too much of what we hate.... there is always that risk but the Truth is well worth having in any case.

Today... the Divide and Conquers are enjoying their last feast. Their time grows shorter by the minute in this fast changing world. They will go but they are such assholes... and we allow them to be such assholes... that they may take us with them. The best we can do is be what they aren't and to teach others to step out into the greater love with us. We are in a world of miracles. We can grow food for everyone. We can teach a world what it takes to make a world work so that we all have what we need. We are working on it in spite of ourselves.

...

My step father was a racist.... but he sold cars and he sometimes had to sell cars to black people. One black couple came in with their kids and bought a car from him. They spoke eloquently, had good jobs and credit, and their kids were respectful and well behaved. He came home that night and said "There are some good ones too". Of course, it is still sad that he failed to understand that they might all be good or trying to be good in a world owned and... at that time anyway.... ruled by people who have completely shit on their kind but... at least... that black family forced him to step out a little... and he copped as much.

John Lennon said all you need is love... and he died knowing he was right but he had to admit that a song wasn't going to do it. We all need to step out... even when it sucks and it is hard..... Me too... starting with myself.... which is very fucking hard.....

...but I'm stepping out.

In Defense of Barbie and Ken Dolls... after the VT massacre 2007

I sometimes rail against "Barbie and Ken dolls" and use them to symbolize the empty headed consumer of our plastic and disposable pop culture. It is, of course, satire. I do not really objectify people in this way.

Monday someone who had more thoroughly objectified people managed to get away with executing more than thirty of them. No doubt, behind dark and polluted eyes he saw a world of pretty young people having fun, partying, spending money, and having sex. This was, to him, a world he could never be a part of (or so he told himself in his demented isolation). He punished these people by ending their world. At some point, probably long ago, those that he looked out at had probably long ceased being people. They were "its" and "them" of some kind. That transference is necessary to kill someone. In our war the people our President objectifies as "insurgents" or "terrorists" get furthered objectified by soldiers as "targets". On the other side, young college aged kids with girlfriends and worried parents became "infidels" and "occupiers". This has always been the way of murder. This is the Great Sadness.

A lot of people feel like "outsiders" especially in high schools and colleges. I can only imagine there are hundreds of thousands if not millions of us that feel alienated in some way. I remember going to college for the first time and looking out at all these pretty young people and wondering how I could possibly fit in. Then, a couple days later, a pretty girl smiled at me and said "Hi". I was in too much shock to really respond. I think I might've grunted or something. I did see her later though and because she had said hi to me I mustered up the courage to approach her and fire off a joke.

It wasn't funny but she laughed anyway. We talked for awhile about where we were from and what we were studying and some time later we went back to her room and I kissed her. When I looked around and saw the pictures of her parents and her little brother, the rock posters on the wall and all the silly souvenirs of childhood recently left behind, I realised that this pretty girl was a dork. She was just as insecure and unsure about her life as I was.

I kissed her again.

Father's Day... Training Wheels

I asked my sister what death meant. She said it was like lying down and not ever getting up. My dad was napping on the couch at the time holding a can of Old Style on his belly. I asked my sister if he was dead.

I did not understand.

I got my first bike on Christmas. It was probably 1972. It was very patriotic. Red, white, and blue with a banana seat. It was just like Peter Fonda's chopper in Easy Rider. Only it was for a four year old. I don't think there was any coke in the handle bars. That bike would be cool now. Dad put some training wheels on it so I could get the hang of riding a big person's bike.

I practiced and practiced with the training wheels. Soon, I insisted I was ready to get those "sissy wheels" off and ride like the big kids. Dad took them off. He kept the bike balanced as I got on nervously staring down the long sidewalk. I was up so high and the pavement looked so far away from me. So dangerous. I had already broken my shoulder twice. Off in the distant, there was the big world. The Sunoco station. Paul Winger's house.

I was scared but dad was right there. Nothing bad would happen. Dad gave me a shove and off I went out into the big old world that day. I was only four at the time and I had no idea that was how he was going to leave me. On a wobbly bike heading down the sidewalk.

A month later I knew what death meant. It meant that we could actually use that front room with the nice furniture. It meant well dressed men would visit and sit with us in that front room. They told me that dad had gone to a better place. I was happy for dad and I didn't understand why all the big people were crying. I begged them to stop. I did not understand until I was there out on the oh so very green grass under the oh so very blue skies with the oh so white clouds passing over us. Soldiers shot at them. The clouds were not wounded. They moved on. We are powerless to stop them.

The training wheels were off for good.

I will not kill you with my bare feet

I know... this is impossible to comprehend but I really am not wearing any shoes. It is extreme... radical... dangerous... and yes... completely out of step with the 21st Century. I am a savage. Caveman.... but.... you do not need to look at me with such horror.... I assure you. I will not kill you with my bare feet. I have traveled many miles barefoot and I cannot recall even one single death that was caused by it....so... I promise.... you are quite safe.

In fact, if I were to go on a shooting rampage, I would definitely don the requisite combat boots because... well... those shell cases are fucking hot. So, in fact, you are probably much safer with me in my bare feet. I am happier this way and much more at peace.

I know... after all these years of progress... it is completely wrong for me to behave this way. It is not normal and I really do wish I could be normal. Blend in... sterile... safe... common... but nature is so cruel. I have been given all these messy genes and chromosomes and have gone through all these millions of interactions and wound up nothing like normal... I am unique. An individual. Idiosyncratic. A freak even with thousands of features making me not at all like you including among them a complete lack of recognition of the need to always don some kind of footwear.

I know. It is very dangerous to touch the Earth. The Earth is all out to kill us all and every step I take is a total invitation to disaster. I know... I know... there are real hazards out there especially in the city where shod assholes find endless amusement in breaking bottles on the sidewalk. I could get hurt.... but I rarely do. In fact, have only seriously hurt my foot with my shoes on.

I understand your looks. This is 2008. We do not touch. Certainly not the Earth. That is why we cover it with a blanket of cement.... put floors over floors.... walls between walls... windows to keep out the wretched sky.... Please... for God's sake... do not touch me... do not even talk to me....

send me a text instead.

Someday soon we will be able to inject ourselves completely into the sterile mainframe and leave that most disturbing part of all nature.... our bodies. What a fucking relief that will be! These goddamn bodies are so annoying. They can never make up their mind. They either want to eat or take a shit, drink or piss.... and they are so obsessed about fucking.... what an horrible exchange of biohazards that is... a veritable nightmare of touching.... and more touching.

I look forward to that day when we all inject ourselves into the mainframe. I look forward to it because when all you get raptured I will certainly be left behind and I take a walk outside in my bare feet and you will not be there to look at me with horror... all those assholes will not be around to break their bottles on the sidewalk.... hell... with no more cops or prudes about I might just take off the rest of my clothes... treat my body to a joint... maybe I will run into someone else who is not afraid of the touching either... I would probably get along very well with this person... we might even fuck....

...but for today I am not wearing shoes and I do apologized for the nature that has made me this way. I apologize for all nature. I am sorry for wanting to touch and daring to touch in spite of your looks of horror.... but.... I do assure you.

I will not kill you with my bare feet.

Through the Past Darkly. Lessons from the last Decade Part One - 2000

Through the Past Darkly. Lessons from the last Decade Part One - 2000

Ah yes.. The decade is almost over. What a blast those naughties were! I thought it might be lovely to share some of the hard lessons and lovely experiences from each year.

Part One

2000.

I got laid!

I was terribly drunk which accounts for my success in actually picking up a girl at a bar. This was in Florida and I had just gotten out of jail. She probably thought I was a 'bad boy' and maybe that is why she tied me to the bed. Which was a terrible idea because while she was cleaning up in the bathroom I was unable to escape throwing up on myself.

Lesson: Please use bondage responsibly.