To give you an idea of where my head is at tonight…I just spent about half an hour making this sign for my door:
My New Door Sign
Proving a few things. First: That I probably have too much time on my hands. Second: That living with 4 boys is finally starting to get the better of me. Third: I’m either really rusty at freaking Microsoft Publisher, or this damn computer sucks. I’ma blame the controller this time.
Also the omnipresence of boys in my damn room. Ugh. Love those kids, but I’m trying to create a little sanctuary of Lainieness in here. Hehehe.
(And this is why I will never live with anyone I’m in a relationship with unless I have my own damn room. It doesn’t have to be big. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to be mine. Mine Mine Mine.)
In other words, this is the one place in the house that doesn’t smell like permafart, and the mess contained within is almost always caused exclusively by me, and is usually not slimy, moldy, or otherwise offensive. At least not to me.
In other other words…it’s my goddess haven. ❤
Did I mention I’m going to paint the doors and closet with chalk paint so I can make chalk drawings on them? 🙂 I’m psyched. Also, I’m getting a lovely painting from one of my favorite superheroes to hang in the blank space over my dresser. It’s all limety-green.
Today was work, and reckoning, and saying goodbye. Again. There are multiple layers of goodbye, it seems. And it’s ok. I’m ok. It’s just…it takes time. And I’m taking my time. Savoring the heartbreak, because you never know when you’ll get your heart broken again.
This last bit of goodbye (for now. for now. for now) required a pleasant walk to the post office, and a lovely blustery return.
My room/office is very slowly still coming together. The clutter! The clutter! I’m still sorting through the clutter. But this feels good on my feet, and my new chair feels good on my back, and hand-me-down furniture is really the best thing ever.
rumbled paradise
And there’s something about a freshly-made-then-rumpled bed. I was staring at it longingly all day. From my desk. About three feet away.
flowers
and absent-minded flower doodles.
I’m having to deal with issues surrounding the person I’m forever having to deal with issues surrounding. It’s annoying and frustrating. (I wanted to qualify that with a “but” statement, but…But what?)
But…nothing.
And then there’s…that.
Lots going on this week. But tonight, it’s dancing in my room, writing, reading…the usual.
***
This made me happy today:
The Warriors never set foot in the Bronx
This might come as a surprise, seeing as how the movie revolves around a New York City gang trying to make their way from the Bronx’s Van Cortlandt Park to Brooklyn’s Coney Island, but filming only took place in Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens. However, authenticity aside, The Warriors captured nighttime New York in a way that very few movies had previously, using some insanely brilliant and memorable locations.
In a special report on face recognition, 60 Minutes warns us that we have nowhere to hide — that our anonymous space is approaching non-existence. Framing the problem through a simplistic (and inaccurate) division between corporate and government deployments of the technology, CBS warns us that big business plans to exploit our faces for economic gain, whether we like it or not, while government plans to use the technology to keep us safe.
But all is not equal, the narrative says: according to the bureau, the FBI is bound by strict regulation and needs lots more data to be effective. Unfortunately, CBS repeats the government’s claims as journalistic fact — no matter that they are false.
Five years after Wall Street crashed the economy, not one banker has been prosecuted for the reckless and fraudulent practices that cost millions of Americans their jobs, threw our cities and schools into crisis, and left families and communities ravaged by a foreclosure crisis and epidemic of underwater mortgages.
Record profits are back at the bailed-out banks. Meanwhile:
Homeowners and communities have lost billions to Wall Street’s foreclosure crisis;
Millions more families face foreclosure in the coming months;
Over the last three days Anonymous ‘Operation Guantanamo’ hashtags #OpGITMO and #GTMO have skyrocketed in popularity on Twitter, drawing attention to the 100th day of the inmates’ hunger strike, as their protest becomes a question of life and death.
Are you starting to see all of the connections yet?
Canada’s tar sands are the third biggest oil reserve in the world, but separating the oil from the rock is energy intensive and causes three to four times more carbon emissions per barrel than conventional oil. Hansen argues that it would be “game over” for the climate if tar sands were fully exploited, given that existing conventional oil and gas is certain to be burned.
“To leave our children with a manageable situation, we need to leave the unconventional fuel in the ground,” he said. Canada’s ministers were “acting as salesmen for those people who will gain from the profits of that industry,” he said. “But I don’t think they are looking after the rights and wellbeing of the population as a whole.
“The thing we are facing overall is that the fossil fuel industry has so much money that they are buying off governments,” Hansen said. “Our democracies are seriously handicapped by the money that is driving decisions in Washington and other capitals.”
UPDATE: Midland Avenue Neighborhood Relief will be helping and reaching out to our neighbors in Oklahoma.We have seen charities and so called relief agencies fall short when it comes to keeping compassion and humanity when people are in need of help after a disaster.We will be forwarding resources and funds to the people of Oklahoma whether it be delivering it through mutual aid networks with ourselves on the ground or diverting funds to proper efforts there.We stand with Oklahoma. We know ourselves firsthand what it is like to be left to our own means.Help us stand with them. https://www.wepay.com/donations/midland-beach-relief
In case you didn’t hear:
A massive, mile-wide tornado touched down in Moore, Oklahoma Monday afternoon, killing at least 51 people, including 20 children. A reporter from local news station KFOR supposedly called it “the biggest, most destructive tornado in the history of the world,” and estimated it was two to three times the magnitude of the massive tornados that hit Oklahoma in 1999.
I see you’ve found an ambivalent lover to be ambivalent about. That’s…an interesting turn of events. Let me know how it works out for you. Sometimes ambivalence is the best possible target to shoot for. Especially in the stillness of remembering…
…there’s only so much oxygen.
Today was wake and work and walk and other stuff in between. The walk was delightfully windy. Deliciously unwarm. Not cold, just unwarm. I told myself as I walked “I’ll head home when I feel raindrops.” and I never did, so I walked the full 3.2 miles. Showered. Put pajamas BACK on. Streeeetch. Waiting for the rain. Content. A little sleepy.
Such a lovely voice. Such a wonderful thought.
(Lay back and listen.)
And then…
…why not go outside and try to stop them?
*****
“TransCanada claimed they were invited for their “expertise”. In fact Thompson was invited to a luncheon talk with only one speaker, S. James Anaya (UN Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, who by the way has been denied entry into Canada for official visit to investigate the human rights situation of indigenous peoples there). All others, including Thompson, were invited as participants.” http://www.tarsandsblockade.org/transcanada-harvard/
“Wal-Mart Stores said it won’t accept an agreement “at this time” to improve fire and building safety in Bangladesh that is supported by labor monitoring groups and was signed by several retailers this week.
“The blockade to protect Jeremy’s house has officially begun.
After a King County Superior Court commissioner denied Jeremy Griffin – a South Park, Seattle resident — his motion to stay his eviction, the Sheriff posted a notice ordering him to vacate his home by early Wednesday morning.
This is a scene that has played out millions of times across the country and thousands of times in Washington State. But this time, the Sheriff will meet resistance.
With numerous lawsuits pending against the big banks for their illegal evictions, their refusal to negotiate with families, and their well-documented acts of fraud, the banks have lost their right to prey on our community. With hundreds of Seattle homes going to auction each month and with more vacant homes than there are homeless people, we need a moratorium on all bank evictions.
In case anyone’s interested, this fat girl gives not a single flying fuck about Aberwhoozy and Fiwhatzits. That ugly-ass Igor looking dude can bite my pimply fat ass. (Also, if you try to give me an A&F shirt to wear in order to punish that asshole for his idiotic remarks, I’m likely to punch you in the throat. Fuck ’em. Let the assholes self-identify & don’t exploit our homeless brothers and sisters to prove a point that’s self-evident.) http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/05/14/abercrombie-and-fitch-homeless-brand-readjustment_n_3272498.html
I’ve been sneezing all day & now in the dwindling hours I’m left feeling groggy and uninspired. So, I’m just going to post some links and be done with it…
Andalusia’s history is peppered with occupations of latifundias – huge agricultural estates dating back to Roman times – by landless workers. Mr Sánchez Gordillo claims these estates make up about 50 per cent of the region’s land, but are owned by just 2 per cent of Andalusia’s population. He says Andalusia is also covered, now, with dozens of empty industrial estates that are mute testimony to the unemployment that blights the region – one sits just 12 miles away from Marinaleda, where the only visible “green shoots” belonged to weeds flourishing amid the patchwork of rusting streetlights, crumbling service roads and pedestrian crossings leading nowhere.“It is true we form part of a tradition, but we’re doing something new here too: we’re insisting that natural resources should be at the service of people, that they have a natural right to the land, and that land is not something to be marketed,” says Mr Sánchez Gordillo. “Food should not be speculated with either. It is a basic human right. We also believe in the [common] sovereignty of [food] as a way of profoundly changing agriculture in the world, not just one particular place.”http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/27-of-spaniards-are-out-of-work-yet-in-one-town-everyone-has-a-job-8612920.html
Monsanto’s practices both in the courtroom and on the farm have made the company increasingly the target of criticism in recent months, and a series of affairs in Washington has done little to weaken the opposition. Campaigns against the company have been renewed as of late following the passing of a congressional agriculture spending bill that included a provision — dubbed the “Monsanto Protection Act” by its critics — that provides legal immunity to biotech entities that experiment with genetically modified and genetically engineer foods. Additionally, the relationship between Monsanto and the country’s high court has been called into question since one of the justices, Clarence Thomas, formerly served as a lawyer for the St. Louis-based company.
“For many, many generations, women and children were told: don’t let yourself get raped, and if you do, for god’s sake don’t whinge about it. Don’t act like a slut. Don’t let your guard down. Don’t ever assume for a second that you have the same right as a man to exist in public or private space without fear of assault and humiliation. That message is slowly, finally, starting to change, so that instead, we’re telling men and boys: do not rape. Do not grope, assault, bully or hurt women, children or anyone over whom you have temporary power. Doing so will no longer increase your social status. If you do it anyway, you will find yourself publicly shamed and possibly up on criminal charges. This is the age of the internet, and nobody forgets.
Confronting structural violence is intensely painful. It’s like squeezing out an enormous splinter you hadn’t realised was there. The pain comes, in large part, from the understanding that you yourself might be implicated by virtue of easy ignorance; that you yourself might have stood by while evil went on; that people you know and trust and respect might very well have done terrible things simply because they thought they were allowed to. Questioning the morality of slave-owning was, until comparatively recently in human history, a minority position. It would be crass and simplistic to equate rape culture with slavery even if there weren’t complex historical links between the two. There is one important similarity, however, and that’s in the reaction when dominant, oppressive cultures finally wake up to the idea that evil on an immense scale has been taking place right in front of them.”
“Take a step back for a moment. Letting children have their own way? Doing just what they like? Wouldn’t that be a total disaster? Yes, if parents perform only the first half of the trick. In the cultural lexicon of modernity, self-will is often banally understood as brattish, selfish behaviour. Will does not mean selfishness, however, and autonomy over oneself is not a synonym for nastiness towards others – quite the reverse. Ngarinyin children in Australia traditionally grew up uncommanded and uncoerced, but from a young age they learned socialisation. That is the second half of the trick. Children are socialised into awareness and respect for the will and autonomy of others, so that, when necessary as they grow, they will learn to hold their own will in check in order to maintain good relations. For a community to function well, an individual may on occasion need to rein in his or her own will but, crucially, not be compelled to do so by someone else.
Among Inuit and Sami people, there is an explicit need for children to learn self-regulation. Adults keep a reticent and tactful distance. A child “is learning on his own” is a common Sami expression. Sami children are trained to control anger, sensitivity, aggression and shame. Inuit people stress that children must learn self-control – with careful emphasis. The child should not be controlled by another, with their will overruled, but needs to learn to steer herself or himself.” http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2013/may/04/leave-them-kids-alone-griffiths
Had a difficult time picking just one quote for this one, guys. This distresses me immensely. It’s like this: if we don’t start fighting back against these corporations in earnest, they will continue to treat us all as though we owe our souls to their company store:
“Exxon says it lets evacuated homeowners briefly visit their homes whenever they want. Thursday they decided that wouldn’t be the case.Shortly after stepping onto Senia’s property, we were both told to leave immediately by an unidentified Exxon official who said it was blocked off because of construction.”What I don’t understand is that we’re told that we have the right to be here as property owners,” said Senia. “We’re not in the way, we’re not bothering other people and sometimes they just kick us out.”Meanwhile, countless people from Exxon and other agencies go in and out of his home.”It’s very distressing,” said Senia. “Sometimes it feels like there’s an invading army just in your house.””http://www.katv.com/story/22212987/mayflower-homeowner-kicked-off-of-property-by-exxon
The feeling decisive I am transposed growing fragrant flagrantly desired. I can stop this tropical drop kick sudden misalignment sudden non-attachment. I am not ok with this this is too much for me. I rise with the sun and set with the waves.
Ironing out the kink in my armor I don, gray, move forward into oblivion. I am nothing if not superlative. Absolute. Fired. You are absolutely nothing to me and this meaninglessness is all-encompassing.
There was a brief sting and then it was me. And then you. And I was standing there, regarding with frenzied fury. This is no accident of birth this is no mismatched apprentice this is no apprehension to bear another fight and flight and fog and burn and crash and be and flag.
When I resounded, I sounded loudly. I grew weary. I was at my worst/best when we met – and I return to that now. I move outward, bleakly. The edges of this apocalypse are thinly-formed. A valor that completes itself. An armament. A breeze.
You soldiered forth, still valorous dolorous. We shared walks, talks, mushrooming time in the wake of / midst of / dream of eternity. There is nothing I wouldn’t give to you, except my total heart. There is nothing you couldn’t take from me – aside from everything.
We made no plans & all plans. Meaning you filled in the gaps. Nicely. Like sand through rocks. Like water through sand. And I soaked it in. Not complaining over the absence of commitment or statement of purpose.
I brought you in. Fed you. Warmed you by my fire. Kept you loved you fed you some more. Soothed you and never demanded a damn thing of you.
And so I was NOT biding my time but enjoying each moment as it happened. Tricky, that – but suddenly easy. Allowed myself to be nourished by ENOUGH – not too much. Felt not a moment of anger or jealousy. Truly wanted happiness – in whatever form it was meant to take for you. Yours and mine, yet mine seemed at the same time deferred and requited. Persistent bliss – Chronic. This is/was no ordinary thing. Emotions run thick & I am in the thick of it.
My life – so wonderful you began to pick it apart. The people I admired. The music I was inspired by. The places I enjoyed. All fell under the purview of your delighted disgust. You became fairly wretched, actually…and I didn’t realize it until being pushed to this distance.
Finally, you took back the one thing of value you gave me to keep. Your data. Your robotic heart. And I lost the one thing I kept that you gave. The yo-yo. My joyful heart.
Sometimes, that is the way it works. I”m not ashamed of the love I felt for you – unbounded and immense – unmeasurable and intense. It is who I am. Onward and upward. And you soaked it in like water through sand.
A lot of discussions about rape culture and consent have been happening lately. This story, though, was I think the first I’d read written intimately from the honest (though not very redeeming) male perspective about the subtle nature of consent. It made me think about situations I’ve been in, and how appreciative I’ve been about the boys/men in my life who understood boundaries, however confusing and passively enforced on my part…but also how overly-forgiving I have been about some men who have not been so understanding. How easy it is to take the blame. And how fucked up it is that I walk around feeling appreciative of people for NOT violating the most basic boundaries, rather than feeling absolutely freaking outraged about those who have.
I want to be clear, this is not regarding any experience I have had in my recent past. Lest anyone think of accusing anyone (or themselves) of wrongdoing. I’m pretty sure those who have overstepped are well aware of who they are, even if they refuse to admit it to me. BUT…to be fair (probably more fair than I need to be, but considering I am the mother of two young boys – probably necessarily fair, if only as a cautionary tale) what occurred to me today is that our culture sends so many messages to men and boys that tell them silence is consent, as a parent it is imperative to actively counteract that culture. NO MEANS NO, for sure. But so does “I don’t think so,” so does shying away, and so does silence.
This is why I’m so thankful for a post that I read on the blog Silence is not Consent about talking to children about consent. This morning, after I read that short story, the kids and I had a good discussion about consent. We talked about consent not being limited to the first time you have sex with someone; that it’s something that needs to be renewed before (sometimes even during (thanks for that reminder, K.)) each encounter. We talked about the fact that long term relationships, including marriage, are not implied consent. We talked about how “talking someone into” sex is not consent. We talked about safe words. We talked about enthusiastic yes(!) And I was reminded by a friend later in the day that most of us can perceive when someone is not enjoying him or herself. Sex should never be a compromise. It should never be “giving in.” It really should be something fun and eagerly approved of by all participating parties for the duration of the act.
My children responded: Mom. We are the children of a feminist single mother – I think we know all of this stuff.
But I didn’t let that stop me. hahaha. Because I would really hate to be the feminist single mother of a son who managed to grow up without a VERY CLEAR understanding of consent. So we also talked about validating the experiences of those who approach us to communicate difficult feelings about sexual encounters with anyone, including ourselves…and seeking to heal, rather than defend. In my opinion (and this might be difficult for others who have had any experience on the spectrum of what I’ll call sexually questionable behaviors) it’s entirely possible for someone to inadvertently violate the rules of consent. Or at least ignorantly. We live in a culture that so frequently projects fucked up ideas of what is and is not healthy communication with regard to sexuality, and within which so little is offered in the way of useful sex education, is it a wonder that we are confused about healthy boundaries? As difficult as it is to do so, I find myself empathizing for men who have crossed a line, almost as much as I empathize for women who aren’t experienced enough to understand that not saying no is not the equivalent of saying yes, and therefore blame themselves for whatever emotional damage they incur from not only the non-consensual experience, but the ensuing self-doubt that often occurs.
In short, as the mother of boys, it is MY responsibility to continue to make sure all of this is absolutely crystal clear. It starts with me. And that responsibility is where I start to heal.
That moment when you are driving, and the only voicemail that transferred from your old phone to your new one – the one where he was full of signature run-on sentences, sweetness, and support in the wake of your layoff. The one where he says “Fuck them – You’re amazing.” and you can tell he really means it. The one he left the week before he broke up with you. That one. THAT mysteriously comes on over your car stereo, casually inserting itself, full blast, between Joni Mitchell and Joy Division. Ouch. Yeah. That moment. That’s a rough one.
I haven’t read the news today. In fact, I’ve not read much news since the end of the manhunt on Friday. I’m tired of external reality. Particularly larger external reality. I needed to be in my tiny little world for a little while. I’ll probably venture out tomorrow.
Trying not to do the countdown to employment, but you know I am doing it anyway. Two weeks. I might as well say it out loud. Two weeks until I’m fully employed, and I’m already having to run little errands for work to prepare. But it’s not so bad. Mostly, what I’m looking forward to in this job is the ability to just turn off work at the end of the day and not think about it. And on Sunday night – or the night before my workweek begins – I won’t have to “prepare for work.” All I’ll have to do is roll out of bed and go to work. I can do that for awhile, for sure. In fact, I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing at this point.
Like I said, I’m trying not to do the countdown thing. Instead, I’m setting goals that will overlap with the start date, so it doesn’t feel like starting work is the end of my time. I will still have time. I will still have time. I will still have time.
I’ve been taking a mini vacation. A small escape. Holed up in my good friend’s house…dogsitting. Watching cable television. Today has been an endless blur of HGTV, 16 Candles, Breakfast Club, and Say Anything. And lots and lots of commercials.
And doing laundry. And writing in my journal. And dancing. Kind of the usual, only in a different place. With cable television.
I’m trying not to keep track of time too closely, but I have about 3 weeks left before I start my job. So. There’s that. It feels like forever, but there are some pretty major projects I want to complete before I have to start devoting 40 hours of my week to a job. I’m so glad I’ve been able to take some time to be by myself and reflect before I start ramping up.
Some habits I think I’ll keep:
Breakfast on the porch with a book
Blogging every night before bed
Walking, walking, walking every day
Chalk pastels on Sundays
Never Quit
Some habits I still need to establish:
Some sort of cleaning schedule
More regular cooking and baking
Business planning (and execution)
Projects I want to complete:
May Day picnic
Room rearrangement/painting
New HVAC unit
Clean out garage/yard sale
(That’s a lot…I’m hoping I don’t have to pare down, but if I do…the garage cleaning can wait.)
I’d also really like to shake the blues that tug away in moments of happiness. Shoo, blues!
Tree Shadows
Did you know there is a vacuum for ear cleaning? The WaxVac? Weird shit, man.
A note to you: You are you. You are not the situation you are temporarily occupying. I love you for you. Not for what I can, nor in spite of what I cannot, “get” from you. ❤ Me
Fresh Bread.
Nothing much happened today, really.
There was breakfast and reading.
Oatmeal and Wendell Berry
And a long walk through the neighborhood, complete with horses at the school.
Horses in the schoolyard, part 1
Horses in the schoolyard, part 2
Vultures in the road
Vultures in the road
Interesting shadows.
Interesting Shadows
And, of course, pomegranates.
Pomegranates
I visited with a Score mentor about Education Never Ends. Business plan is the next step.
Met up with some superheroes at City Hall who were fighting to keep our elected representatives from transferring power over our publicly-owned utility to an unelected independent board…and also feeding people.
Fight the power, after eating a well-balanced and nutritious meal!
And came home to my messy house. I’m thinking I might at least try to clean the kitchen tomorrow. I’m also thinking my room needs some work – particularly if I’m going to be working from it. No reason why I can’t rearrange things so I have a window next to my desk. And a freaking treadmill.
I have a lot on my mind – most of which I probably won’t be able to talk about for a long time. It’s still sorting itself all out up there.
***
Some links for you:
“Exxon is and will always be a bully,” said David Turnbull, Campaigns Director of Oil Change International. “Instead of engaging their critics appropriately, Exxon uses its billions to hire high-priced lawyers to make scary-sounding but unsupported legal claims to suppress criticism. It’s a window into how they have preserved billions in taxpayer handouts for their industry for so many years.”
This is the second time Exxon has bullied this advertisement off the air. In February, Exxon sent a cease-and-desist letter to Comcast only hours before scheduled airings during State of the Union news coverage.
The resolution by the Oglala Sioux Tribe, which is a 1934 Indian Reorganization Act government, explicitly supports the traditional Black Hills Sioux Nation Treaty Council’s resolution approved unanimously on Feb. 18, 2012. The earlier resolution states: “The Great Sioux Nation hereby directs President Barack Obama and the United States Congress to honor the promises of the United States made through the 1851 and 1868 Fort Laramie treaties by prohibiting the proposed Keystone XL Pipeline and any future projects from entering and destroying our land without our consent.”
The traditional leaders’ resolution, argues against the dilbit pipeline on the grounds of international law, citing the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. http://www.indianz.com/News/2013/009206.asp
Meanwhile, the entire community of Mayflower, AR has been radicalized:
At this early stage of the game, real answers to what’s going on in Mayflower would be hard to come by, even if a mega-corporation wasn’t on the ground in full damage control mode, and local and county officials hadn’t largely ceded jurisdiction to them, with workers and Faulkner County deputies barring the public and media from the scene. The emerging picture, though — a picture that includes wildlife coated in oil, devastated ecosystems in ExxonMobil’s “restricted areas,” residents who say they are sick, and the still-ticking time bomb on the shores of Central Arkansas’s primary water source, Lake Maumelle, where the Pegasus Pipeline comes within 600 feet of the shoreline — might be even uglier than a neighborhood coated in crude. http://www.arktimes.com/arkansas/will-mayflower-ever-be-the-same-after-the-exxon-spill/Content?oid=2797633&showFullText=true
Though they didn’t need help, I was thankful for the excuse to make it out to the festival, and enjoyed some yummy food.
Chole Samosa
Accompanied a friend to The Great Outdoors, where we gawked at greenhouse flowers before he bought bags of soil for his garden.
Pitcher Plant
Pitcher Plant 2
Bougainvillea galore!
Nerded out at the opening of the Hats off to Dr. Seuss exhibition with one of my very favorite superheroes…followed by dinner and giggles at surreal-0-vision.
I think this one was called “Ejecting a Surly Cat.”
Sunday was about much needed solitude.
Abundance
Manifesting the inspiration from the preceding day into art.
Yertle the Tortuga, Pt. 1
They Obeyed
Contemplating…
Journaling…
Maintaining…
When I was working, this time of night on a Sunday was a time of mourning for the lost weekend hours. Now, I celebrate the time spent in pursuit of more esoteric goals. I am memorizing the contours of a simpler life-measuring the hours of the days and comparing them to the important things that need to fit within them. I am taking time to listen to birdsong and track the daily growth of the leaves on trees. I am paying close attention to my kinder instincts and (internally, silently) admonishing those who would wish me to be more cruel because that is what they would do. I am appreciating the fact that my child quotes Neitzsche when confronted with my angst (specifically, though paraphrased: “He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”)
I am listening to Camper Van Beethoven, and welcoming spring.
❤
And now…the news:
Troubling reports continue to come in from the Pegasus Tarsands Pipeline spill in Mayflower, Arkansas about the apparent control of the proverbial chicken coop by the foxes:
On Friday morning, Inside Climate Newsreported that an Exxon spokesperson told reporter Lisa Song that she could be “arrested for criminal trespass” when she went to the command center to try to find representatives from the EPA and the Department of Transportation. On Friday afternoon, I spoke to the news director from the local NPR affiliate who said he, too, had been threatened with arrest while trying to cover the spill. http://www.motherjones.com/blue-marble/2013/04/reporters-say-exxon-impeding-spill-coverage-arkansas
Thankfully, the residents of Mayflower are fighting back:
On Friday, homeowners filed a civil lawsuit against Exxon in the U.S. District Court Eastern District of Arkansas Western Division. In the class action suit, homeowners said the pipeline was unsafe and its rupture hurt property values. http://thecabin.net/latest-news/2013-04-06-1#.UWJPgpPvuSr
We have reports that because Exxon had already partially destroyed this wetland, they pumped diluted bitumen spilled in other areas here to get it all in one place and keep it out of sight of the media. We went in anyway.
This is how we comfort ourselves when we feel helpless:
And I did a little studying up on the history of May Day, in preparation for the planning of picnic/potluckness:
Originally a pagan holiday, the roots of the modern May Day bank holiday are in the fight for the eight-hour working day in Chicago in 1886, and the subsequent execution of innocent anarchist workers.
In 1887, four Chicago anarchists were executed; a fifth cheated the hangman by killing himself in prison. Three more were to spend 6 years in prison until pardoned by Governor Altgeld who said the trial that convicted them was characterised by “hysteria, packed juries and a biased judge”. The state had, in the words of the prosecution put “Anarchy is on trial” and hoped their deaths would also be the death of the anarchist idea. http://libcom.org/history/1886-haymarket-martyrs-mayday
The farmers, workers, and child-bearers (laborers) of the Middle Ages had hundreds of holy days which preserved the May Green, despite the attack on peasants and witches. Despite the complexities, whether May Day was observed by sacred or profane ritual, by pagan or Christian, by magic or not, by straights or gays, by gentle or calloused hands, it was always a celebration of all that is free and life-giving in the world. That is the Green side of the story. Whatever else it was, it was not a time to work.
UnrulyMom.Com 