culture

Dusting With Pledge

The  Promised Land

is  broken

beyond recognition

except

to those who broke it. 

The Land of Opportunity

and Promise

is stuck in an

American nightmare

that feels 

Un-American.

Potential

gets thwarted

by  grievance

and History’s

scar tissue

that  causes

pain cycles

inflicting

injury  again

and again.

Human nature

spirals,

spinning,

repeatedly;

twisting

ourselves

in retrograde motions

trying to make 

progress

that feels like

power. 

Promises 

will always

yield

consequences,

intended or  not. 

Abusers know

that  we’re suckers

for promises;

that  intentions

are spoken

or tweeted

like incantations.

Words

create possibilities.

not probabilities,

and we tend

to forget

that words

require

meeting with

reality.

We seek 

promise

and promises.

And  we 

demand 

consequences

when we

become 

broken.

Then the dust

will settle

for a bit.

I promise.

Speak Easy

Watching a period piece,

a drama, set in 1932,

I was oriented in time 

through 

the clothes

the interiors

the accessories

the flasks

the verbiage

the hair

the cars

the phones

the shoes—

every detail that signified

when.

In an era of prohibition,

desires were still satisfied

for the still affluent

and able

class.

Those with means

could frequent

hidden spaces

of freedom;

quarters where spirits

flowed into crystal goblets

and flasks

to hide 

in the outside

world;

jazz inviting

dancing,

in smoke-filled

congested rooms,

where people

could speak

easy

and revel freely

for some hours,

not having to face

profound inequality

or differences

or problems.

Prohibition, 

from 1920-1933,

didn’t curb

behavior

or health.

It invited

crime

and 

stealth.

In 2023,

it should not be

so difficult

to speak

easily 

without prohibition

and

with nuance;

But first we

have to speak

and hear

the truth.

Urgent Care

Today this

hurts.

And yesterday’s

ache

is still 

tender.

My tracker

indicates

sufficient

sleep 

and oxygen,

yet I

gasp

each day

and 

am terribly

aware

of threatening

conditions.

According

to my 

data,

everything

ranges from

good to

optimal.

Apparently,

this is accurate

information

when sleeping.

The data

does not

describe

my being

awake.

Sure,

I can 

see my

heart

rate

at any 

time

of day.

It races,

which 

could become

a hurdle

in itself. 

I am 

unaware

of my 

nocturnal

gasps

for air, 

but I cringe

and tense

myself

with news

with open

eyes

feeling

compelled 

to be 

awake.

I don’t 

really matter

to the news,

but think 

it matters

to me.

Doesn’t it?

I want 

to be

awake

to act

as necessary.

Every day

feels 

urgent

and filled

with issues

about which

to care.

The aches

and pains

and gasps

from each

news

cycle

are symptoms

of a deep

love

and loss

of functionality

of humans.

And nature.

What could be

more urgent

than us

and our

environment

that nourishes

our insides?

No Surprise Party

I claim

to hate

surprises, 

but

I delight

in being

surprised

every day.

Not by

secrets

kept from

me 

suddenly revealed,

but seeing

and hearing

the familiar

people and places

with fresh

eyes and ears. 

I think 

that’s 

the secret

to sustaining

love

and growth,

which 

I easily forget

daily. 

I also

assume,

expect,

and mindlessly

repeat

myself 

daily.

But I do

get moments

each day 

that are revelatory

and worth

savoring.

Beyond

the personal,

our politics

challenges

what we

thought

we knew

about 

ourselves

on some

path 

called

progress.

I am

surprised

by how

unexceptional

we have

revealed

ourselves

to be. 

American 

ideals

are subverted

daily 

as our cold

civil war

rages

with outrageousness

and contempt

and we 

still remain

surprised.

To many,

this prolonged

moment

of doubt,

deception,

hate,

and chaos,

is unexpected;

a shock

or series 

of shocks

to our system.

To others,

the system

has always

allowed

for this.

The culture

wars

are political

and (un)civil;

fought

through

weaponizing

language

and consolidation

of support

further 

othering

and degrading,

ensuring

constant

indignation.

By now

this should be

no surprise.

We should

expect

this fight,

at least

for some

time.

President Biden’s 

surprise

visit to 

Ukraine

was a well

executed

secret

and a

reprieve

from

the dreck

here at home.

I am admittedly

surprised

by relentless

preservation

of anger

and hate.

It’s too 

exhausting

for me, 

But I get

that it is

addicting,

and provides

some

weird

reassurance–

collective (party) ego

reinforcement—

that has 

no room

for surprises. 

Drill Baby, Drill

Thank you,

Sarah

Barracuda,

for your 

intro

course

in being

coarse

as a 

political

strategy.

We thought

you failed

but we

still flail

at the

crude,

rude,

vulgar

ideas,

much less

speech,

intending

to rally

the base.

Baseslessness

and

shamelessness

are weapons

of mass

destruction.

Drilling down

on deception,

extracting

sludge

for the sake

of election,

and when

that doesn’t

work,

then insurrection.

You know

the drill:

Here comes

the next

conspiracy

with remarkable

adherency,

not to 

mention,

attention.

Free speech

is the claim

to seeking

fame

and power.

I don’t know

how to beat

the hate

that comes

with guns

and seeks

to create

a Red

balloon

across

America.

This is

not

a drill.

What the World Needs Now

I used

to think

Cupid

was

stupid;

a mascot

tot

projectiling

weapons

to pierce

hearts.

A day 

of

forced

“love”, 

I thought,

was 

a good

excuse

for selling

stuff.

But in 

the name

of love,

I too

celebrate,

reminding

myself 

to pay 

attention,

and return

to my senses,

especially

mid 

winter. 

Intimacy 

requires

nurturing

(today,

ironically

by a baby).

The kids

remind us

of what

matters:

love.

We inherit

conventions

that we get

to rethink:

I quote

here

the wikipedia

definition

of arrow:

“A typical

arrow

usually consists

of a long,

stiff,

straight

shaft

with a weighty

arrowhead

attached

to the front end.”

“A container

or bag

carrying

additional

arrows

for convenient

reloading

is called

a quiver.”

Love

is not 

forced.

But it is

a force

we must

reckon

with

as we

remember

it’s power

to bring

forth

new life. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

The Madonna’s Face

Too tight,

too plump,

too weird,

to recognize

the well-known

mother of

invention

of herself

and style.

The changed

name

to ironically

subvert

The Virgin

overtly

with

underwear

as 

outerwear

and the 

semiotics

of the

feminine

as sex.

Baby voiced,

a female

Elvis,

the material

girl,

Marilyn 2.0,

(minus 

any innocence),

creating a verb

from the word

Vogue,

imposing

herself

constantly,

she demands

that the pop

culture

demands

her.

When all

is performance

(and monetized

of course),

why expect

aging

with grace?

Now

her face

consumes

this space

for discourse

about

youth,

and age,

relevance,

the feminine,

sex,

beauty,

legacy,

resistance,

performance,

and art.

She still

has the

ability

to miraculously

hold

the attention

of the masses

when 

attention

is a deficit—

now a cultural

disorder—

that

we obviously

need

to face. 

These Days

The shortest day.

Phew.

We are heading

Toward

More light

However 

Gradually.

When darkness

Sets in

For 

Long

Stretches,

Flickers 

Of illumination

Feel

Miraculous.

This season

Of miracles,

Like always,

Celebrates

The gifts

We give

And get

From

So much

Effort.

We create

Suitable

Conditions

And 

Unsuitable 

Ones. 

These days

With

Less sun

Feel bright,

Extended

With lights

Reminding

Us,

Rededicating

Ourselves,

Somehow 

Miraculously,

Birthing

New life;

New possibilities

Even 

In the

Cold

And

Darkness

That pervade

These

Days.

Starting At The End

22 Years

Ago

the world 

ended.

George W Bush

became 

POTUS

after the longest

and most

disputed

election

until now.

The Supreme Court

settled

that one.

(And back then, 

The Supreme Court

justices

didn’t pal

around

with 

Fascists or 

Insurrectionists.)

The beginning

of the

end. 

My father

died

22 years ago

today.

He was 64.

Could it get 

any

worse

than that?

Katrina.

The end of the 

world

begat

the beginning

of constant

disruptions

and distortions

and terrorism

in the 

USA

and around 

the globe.

Citizens United.

9/11

and 

beheadings.

Daniel Pearl.

Anthrax.

Shoe bombers.

Waterboarding.

Abu Ghraib.

Patriot Act. 

So many

changes to 

the fabric

of 

what was

The United

States

of 

America.

The internet

and social

media

revolutionized

and then

cannibalized

humanity.

The first 

African American

President,

elected for 2 terms,

undermined 

at every possible 

moment, 

denying

a Supreme Court

Justice

hearing,

and Congress

praying and thinking

when 

children and other

innocents

in schools,

churches,

movie theaters,

clubs,

military bases,

etc

got gunned down

by “lone

wolves”.

But he and Congress 

kept us

from falling

off 

the economic

cliff,

with a 

gradual

recovery.

Still

the Affordable

Care

Act

became law

and Gay

Marriage

became

Legal.

Green 

Energy 

meanwhile

became more

mainstream,

despite

FRACKING

and pushback

against

any social 

or climate 

progress.

But Freedom!

Libertarianism!

Crypto

Currency

Hype

and 

failure.

And 

Trump,

who

after

losing 

a second 

term

over 2 years 

ago,

still

haunts

having 

unleashed 

the

walking

dead—

Zombie 

Apocalypse

Now—

After 

supporting

an actual

insurrection

at 

The Capitol

among

other

coup 

attempts, 

the MAGA

army

is like

COVID

still infecting

even

though

we declared

the COVID19

Pandemic 

that shut 

down 

the world

for 2 years 

from

March 2020

to March

2022

over,

as

the virus 

mutates 

and threatens

continuously.

The oldest

are the 

most

vulnerable. 

Even the 

Biden-Harris

(Yes, the first

Black-Asian-American

Woman

VEEP),

team

can not

seem

to inspire

much hope.

Or change.

22 Years

ago, 

the world 

ended

at only

64. 

Dis-cuss:

Disquiet

Discomfort

Disturbing

Disempowering

Displaying

Disaffection

Distorting

Disagreeably

Disallowing

Disambiguating

Disapproval

Disavowing

Discarding

Discernment,

Disciples

Disclaim

Discomfiting

Disconnected

Discord

Discouragingly

Discovering

Discredited

Discrete

Dishonesties.

Disengaged

Disinformed

Dishonroable

Dismissive

Disintegrating

Disjuncture

Disseminating

Disorder

Disowning

Distracting

Disreputable

Disputes,

Disgracefully

Discussing

Disingenuous

Disintegration.