culture

December Redefined

Abundant Life

Christian School

in Madison,

Wisconsin

is still reeling,

feeling

the fuel

of grief

and disbelief

from abundant

life 

shot dead.

That the shooter

was not a gunman

or a front man

for a cause

caused 

barely

a pause,

because

girls

can have

boys’

toys

too.

And the second

grader

who might

have saved 

her

by calling

9-1-1

probably

saved many

others

from her

gun.

Often,

adolescent

girls’ pain

is visible,

while boys’

behavior 

is often

derisible,

but the pain

is miserable

no less.

Too many

are stuck

not feeling

an abundant

life;

just strife,

sharp

as a knife.

The abundance

of violence

seems to be

cyclical,

but school

shootings

are atypical

in the rest

of the world.

We are desperate

for a respite

from the seemingly

endless

senseless

shootings.

And the irony

of the lexicology

of the entities

astonishes

me.

I just can’t 

stop thinking

about linking

meaning,

which no 

longer

seems 

linked:

United.

Health.

Care.

Abundant.

Life.

Christian.

School.

Now defined 

as combined

moments

a la 

Columbine—

referring

to disturbing

incidents

of lost 

innocence

and terror.

Each thought

and prayer

from despair

without repair

is useless.

Hope lives

in action

and legislation,

but given

the incoming

administration,

find grassroots

sources

for your 

resources.

In the darkness

of our 

Decemberness,

we celebrate

the light

we create

through

gifts

and shifts

in resolutions.

Rededicate

to effectuate

the path

toward

solutions.

A miracle

takes

people

to work.

United.

Health.

Care.

Abundant

Life

with love,

Happy Holidays!

How’s Your Weather?

Learn to see

the forest 

through trees,

behind

the curtain,

certain,

while consumption

without assumption

of consequence

or sequence

of events

systemic,

seemingly

endemic

in our culture,

ignoring

nature

in danger,

due to

the illusion

of control.

Learn to see

blindspots;

hot spots

of regions

and reasons

for how we

unintentionally

perpetuate

this state

of climate 

crisis

for us

which 

we may not

be able

to reverse,

could relieve

this perverse

curse

of disconnection

between

decisions

and ramifications.

We have

solutions;

paths that 

we’ve proved

to behoove

us.

Technology

and policy

combined

with the necessity

of accountability,

helps us solve

what we’ve 

yet to resolve

without

yet

being able 

to see

clearly.

We need

the creativity

and participation

of everybody.

Use your

resources

and proclivities

for activities

where 

the priorities

engage

others

to bother

to do

more

than weather

current

conditions.

All Kidding/Assad

I’m in 

no position

to comment

on the transition

away

from the al-Assad

family

reign

in Syria.

The criteria 

for hope

is the scope

and sequence

of events

that unfold

as the yet

to be told

story 

of glory

of the rebels’

new power.

As of this

hour,

instead

of al-Assad

at the head

or jihad

far behind,

it’s not

quite clear

what we’re

in for.

The most

uncivil

war

that Syrians

endured

(or didn’t)

isn’t

going

to yield

instant

peace.

Every

ecosystem

is diverse.

So the perverse

use

of force

to endorse

an exclusionary

coarse

is of course

problematic-

not just 

for the 

tragic

victims

of violence,

but the silence

within which

those who

manage

to survive

barely

alive,

can not 

thrive

in oppressive

conditions.

Regressive

politicians

are having

their moment

to foment

and reorient

away

from the mainstay

of the postwar

order.

Chaos

is king.

No kidding.

Shooting

someone

on 5th 

(actually, 6th)

Avenue

came true,

and the

cheering 

and snark

and generally

dark

comments

mocking

what should

be a shocking

and sad

event

meant

that we

are losing

perspective

with invective.

Assad

was a nightmare;

the very

defintion

of evil.

I’m glad 

he’s gone

but this 

does not

feel like

the dawn

of a new 

day.

Those

inured

to the injured

or murdered

concerns

me.

Who are we

kidding?

Killing

doesn’t justify.

No one 

should die

to make

a point.

Bananas Foster

It’s Bananas!

By now 

you’ve heard

the absurd

story

of the crypto

bro

with too much

dough,

in all 

his glory,

created 

a story

about 

quite

an appetite

for art.

Entrepreneur 

Justin Sun

paid

6.2 million

for 

“Comedian”

at auction.

The conceptual

artwork

is an exceptional

quirk

in a world

that is 

rather quirky.

The banana

affixed

with duct tape

may be hard

to appreciate,

but it appreciated

exponentially.

Art is weird,

I’m sure 

you’d agree,

in the sense

that it makes

no sense

in dollars

and cents.

We’ve had 

a Campbell

Soup Can

and a urinal

called

“Fountain”,

provoking

opinion

and questioning

definition

of what is

art?

Art fosters

conversations,

not just

transactions,

about institutions,

obligations,

subjugations,

conventions,

and other 

inventions

of the mind

that get

left behind

or issues

not considered

otherwise.

In the case

of “Comedian”

the fruit

of the labor

of the artist

and vendor

(who sold

the banana

at his bodega)

will not receive

payment

from 

this sale.

But the statement

beyond the

“Comedian”

piece tale

was the ease

with which

the entrepreneur-

banana -connoisseur

ate it.

*image: nytimes.com/2024/11/20/arts/design/cattelan-banana-sothebys-auction.

Wicked Gladiator and A Real Pain

Not quite 

“Barbenheimer”,

“Wickadiator”

might

be the invigorator

that Hollywood

needs,

as the movie house

bleeds

since the pandemic.

“Wicked”

and “Gladiator II”

are the new

block busters

at a theater

near you.

One a prequel;

the other,

a sequel.

The former, 

a musical;

the latter,

well…

a gladiator

spectacle.

Remarkable

to me,

as I tend 

to see 

connections,

it’s the perfect

cultural 

and political

projections

these titles

unwittingly

mention.

I mean…

really…

Wicked

and Gladiator II

are true

descriptions

of the nature

and prescriptions

of the next

administration.

And a smaller

movie

I saw 

recently,

has a title

that says

it all

completely:

“A Real Pain”.

The Wicked

Gladiator,

who “governs”

as dictator,

is a real pain

and an ass

on top 

of it all.

I’m thankful

for a brief

reprieve

from grief,

as I will 

share cranberry 

sauce

across

the table,

and steer

clear

of the political.

I’m grateful

I’ll be celebrating

Thanksgiving

with family

and friends

whose connection

depends

not on

policy position,

or opposition,

but on disposition

and love.

Despite a real

pain

so many 

sustain,

we remain

capable

of being

better.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lost in the Woulds

Would that the first

First

Gentleman-

Elect

reflect

the scope

of change

and hope

and range

we thought

we ought

to be celebrating

after electing

the first 

Black-Asian-

American

woman

POTUS…..

we would

still

be terrified

about 

a result

denied

and would

be bracing

for 

more

terror.

Would

this moment

become

some

abberation

or recalibration

or decimation?

Would we

continue

as who

we thought

we ought

to be

or would

we flee?

Would

chicken eggs

be worth

more than 

human

eggs

without

Citizens

United

and the Supreme

Court determined

to abort

women’s 

reproductive

healthcare

everywhere?

Now that 

we are getting

a sequel,

we would

have 

insured

a different

prequel.

America

the beautiful

is full

of ugly

Americans

full

of greed

who concede

racism

and misogyny

and who 

need 

to be freed

of their pain.

What seems

insane

and inane

to half

of us

doesn’t

matter

to the rest.

Who would

have thought

we’d fail

the test

of what

we were

taught

to matter?

I am sadder

that we 

are so 

desperately

lost,

than angry,

though

admittedly

somewhat

scared.

I guess

my anxiety

prepared

me

a bit

for what

would

have never

been

imagined

until

recently.

The fantasy

of individuality

and “Don’t

Tread on Me”

will always

be

selective.

It’s the stupid

economy,

I hate to say,

that seems

to sway

the most.

We’ve lost

our way

when 

we would

rather

say anything

and do

anything,

no matter

how harmful,

because 

we are

so broken.

Everyone

is broken.

This would

not be

a revelation

had this

election

gone differently.

But apparently,

breaking

bad

with a mad

man

(and lots of

angry

men

and the women

who support

them)

is where 

we are

no matter

how far

gone

we have

lost

ourselves

in the

woulds.

Controlling the Whether

The ubiquitous 

pronoun

“they”

is used 

to convey

gender fluidity

and conspiracy

leaving a question

of plurality

of the situation

discussed.

Never one

to be on

the fence,

MTG,

who represents

Georgia constituents,

presents

crazy (and stupid)

statements

like:

“they control

the weather”.

Who are the

they

to whom

she refers?

She prefers

the pronoun

to keep it

nebulous,

never mind

incredulous,

that any

entity

or group

could recoup

the weather.

But when 

I hear

“they control”

I cringe

at the trolls

knowing

who

they mean

to say

when they

say “they”.

But her pretense

made even

less sense

than earlier

comments,

yet

she stirred

the muck

sufficiently.

All there is

to control

is whether

we go down

the rabbit 

hole

and lose

our souls

in the process.

Controlling

the whether

or not

we feed 

the beast

is the least 

we can do.

Heat Wave

Desantis

cut

all grants

for arts

in Florida.

This is not

merely

the display

of Tom Delay

opposing

a nude

sculpture.

This is culture

war 

gone

nuclear.

Aside

from 

refuge

from the deluge

of the monstrosity

of absurd 

political

verbosity,

the arts

engage 

with less savage

rage

and elevate

hearts

and minds.

Thinking

critically

is critically

necessary,

and increasingly

lacking

in society.

Not merely

criticizing

the opposing

position,

but juxtaposing

division

for consideration

is the job

of the thoughtful

democratic

citizen.

Of course

arts 

are 

not exclusive

to democratic,

inclusive

societies.

All cultures

create

culturally 

great

works,

that work

to showcase

impressions,

expressions,

confessions,

obsessions

beyond

politics

or religion,

or economics

or any statistics.

Art 

is part

of being

human,

if only

to be

appreciated.

No reason

was given

as to what

had driven

Desantis

to defund

grants

for arts

across

the great

state

of Florida.

How about 

opera

in Tampa?

Or the Miami

City

Ballet?

Or the New

Word Symphony

or every gallery

from Tallahassee 

to The Keys?

More importantly,

these sacred

places 

not

for profit

benefit

the public—

educating,

celebrating,

debating,

and creating

connections

anew.

He won’t

undo

what he 

threatens

to,

despite

his defunding

veto.

It’s abundantly

clear

he’s sincere

about 

being a

rage 

machine.

He won’t

be outdone

by anyone

except

by himself.

Should

we be 

outraged

or disengaged?

Which

would be

most effective

against

the invective

and incentive

to be incensed

by the lack

of sense

and every 

pretense

and policy

to lash

back

against

culture

and history

since 1960?

Adding fuel

and heat

to compete

for VEEP

may be

a steep

conquest,

but my best

guess

is that

this wave

won’t 

save

him.

Heat

waves

have begun

not just

in the Sunshine

State. 

The first 

debate

will ignite

the fight

that will

get overheated

as MAGA

acolytes

on the right

like to 

make waves

and heat

things up.

The boiling

point

is the point;

to foil

any opposition

even if

the position

is to defund

all arts.

Don’t let

the heated

rhetoric

and waves

of crazy

keep you

lazy.

Support

the arts.

Buy and read

banned books.

Help women

access care

as needed.

Ignore the 

debate.

Help create

access

and accountability.

It’s your responsibility

in this 

heat wave.

See Worthy

Seeing 

sounds

like looking,

but looking

more closely,

supposedly

what we see-

though we may

disagree-

is processed

internally;

while looking

outwardly

is the action

that allows

us to see.

We look 

good

when we

appear

sincere

and cohere

to a point

of view.

What others

see 

is not

necessarily

our intention

but a form

of convention

even 

if unconventional.

Signaling status

or virtue

or aspiration,

our communication

is mostly

visible.

Yet we are

miserable

when 

misperceived

as unachieved

as per 

our intentions.

Seeing connections

requires 

looking

and thinking;

linking 

between

what may

be seen

and what

is shown,

making itself

known

as related.

Making contact,

in fact,

creates 

continuity

and unity

in thought,

action,

and relation.

This creation

is what

we look for

and endure

when we 

see

love.

But do we

actually 

see

need?

Or greed?

Or just

agreement?

Or disagreement

cemented,

keeping

us tormented

still wanting

to be right?

Sight

acknowledges

with understanding

that compatibility

is different

from uniformity

and the enormity

of possibility

requires

looking for 

rapport

and seeing

humanity

in all its

incongruity.

Separation Anxiety

Wait…

Are we

breaking

up?

or down?

I thought

you taught

me 

everything

I knew

without

knowing.

I threw

myself

into 

you,

believing

the conceiving

was a

how-to

create

fulfilling

life.

Strife 

is inevitable,

but this

is incredible

in the worst

way.

Our 

ancestors

split

into the pit

of war

and tore

themselves

apart.

The scars

inflamed

but were

tamed

until

recently.

The cult 

of personality

of indecency

is claiming

it’s all 

about

policy.

You want

to be

free 

from 

Me?

You,

who insist

on Christ

first

as a

gun toting

misogynist

and homophobe

in a judge’s

robe,

without

limit

to prohibit

that which

you deem

oppressive.

You

are

overtaxed?

It’s impressive

how simple

minded

people

like

to be

told

day and night

that they

are right

to be

aggrieved

and wanting

to be

free.

A civil 

war?

A cold

war?

A revolution?

It feels

like dissolution

of the evolution

of what could

be 

a better

future;

a more

perfect

union.

I see

the enemy

of the good.

We should

be able

to reconcile,

but the infantile

bile

has been

weaponized

to legitimize

some fantasized

perversion,

while an infantilized

conversion

has materialized

before

my eyes. 

I’m still surprised

by this uprising,

making

it seem

like our thing

was a long

fling.

But truth

is enduring

despite

luring

attempts

to 

undo

US.

We have

much

work

to do;

not just

to protect

and defend,

but mend.

I can’t 

pretend

it’s just

one

election

to be

won.

But it 

could be

the last

of the past

248 years.