I have a complex relationship with anger, and one that seems difficult for others to comprehend: I see anger as a force for good, in myself and occasionally in others. Many people see anger as the force that makes them do stupid and occasionally evil shit. For me, anger is largely where courage comes from.

I am incredibly angry at my government for what it has done to this young man. At the precise time in his life that he is asking himself who he is, (and getting answers that likely scare him) our government makes him an accessory to murder.

unfuckingtitled

My first lucid memory is being told by a doctor that I probably wouldn't live to be 20.
He thought he was doing good, telling it to me straight (at the wise age of 8)
I have been waiting to die ever since.
It leads to much melodrama,
and sadness,
and acute not-giving-a-shit.

I don't know why I'm NOT dead,
but I'm not.
And I have no idea how I feel about that.
I have been convinced of my imminent death many times
four entubations, two respirators, a heart attack
and about a thousand asthma crises later
Still dying, never dead.

Have a nice christmas, world.

So he is dead.

Osama binLadin was killed in a firefight last night.

Before you rejoice, consider this: Early reports have him participating in the firefight, and that is one of the qualifications for Islamic Martyrdom. Did we kill a bad guy, or create a transcendent being? Our gloating, rejoicing and celebration further his cause. Almost nothing good ever comes from killing people. I am sure we tried to capture him, and I am sad that we failed. A public trial would probably have been better.

I am glad he is dead, but I hope we have not created and enshrined a new hero.

Djinn

My familiar is a cat,
an old black cat
sharpens her claws on the couch-arm

My old black cat,
the Cross-eyed cat
jumps on my chest and rumbles

The Cross-eyed Cat,
a Halloween cat
arches her back and blinks

Both paws up,
claws at the ready
she combs my beard when I hold her

Tokyo

I always wanted to go to Japan
It is the martial artist in me

The wind is blowing towards Tokyo
and it is carrying death with it.

Is it Godzilla?

Dust, dust, all is dust.
floating on the air
picked up in dust-devils
and thrown carelessly into the wind

The wind that is blowing towards Tokyo

Fukushima is the cost of technology
And it will happen again.
And we will let it.

Bastet's spell

Bastet cast the spell, the spell I can never learn
She took her rage and contained it
focused it
and in so doing gave the blame
the hurt
the fear
the worry
the helplessness
to a small magic-marker picture
of a cute little princess
She then ripped it into small squares
and as she did, she became calmer
and began to let it go.

is it on?

Yeah, unfortunately, it is on.

-=lizard looks at Bill, Bill looks at lizard=-

Go with the flow, or slay the dragon?

Screw This.

Red cool-aid or blue Kool-Aid, it's still fucking Kool-Aid. Does it matter if it was Ayn Rand or Karl Marx who stirred it last?

the letter

She is there,upstairs, probably asleep, crowded close to a chocolate retriever.
We are in the same house, yet I miss her terribly.
He is upstairs, with the dwarf hamsters. Damn, I wish he were awake
There is a happy black cat expressing it's joy by standing on my chest
And I am trying to write a letter. It is the most disturbing thing I have ever done
it shakes the pillars of my very existence
and I'd almost rather die than write it.

ethereal imp

There was an imp, a three-foot tall harbinger of things unusual, sitting on my chest on the hospital bed. He was heavy, and I couldn't breathe.

"I know something you don't know" the Imp said in a teasing, whiny way.
I couldn't get enough breath to ask what it was. That didn't stop the little bastard telling me. tho.

"This is how you are going to die, big guy. Flat on your back and gasping for breath, looking up at blank ceiling, or the faux-nice some nurses have. not now, not tonight, but unless you manage to get yourself shot while arguing, or run over by a bus, this is it, this pathetic fate awaits you. Have a nice day" it said, then fucked off to wherever hallucinations go when I am not around to notice them.

a bad case of the 'scareds'

I saw it, in the flash of the moment
Truth and fact melting together seamlessly
I saw it, as it really is, clearly.
I averted my eyes as quickly as I could
Then, I ran home and hid under the covers
and aggressively forgot it all

and woke up, clueless

and everything was all right again

-=foggy moments=-

I get lost in here, sometimes.
Drifting,
blissfully disconnected.