A Couple Days Ago in Georgia, My Home State

This happened.

What is there to say about that in 2018, the heart of darkness that is America? It's not sufficient -- and even grotesque -- to note that there were counter-protestors that far outnumbered those raising their hands in a Nazi salute and burning swastikas. A white guy who blew away four black people in a Waffle House is caught alive and sits in a jail cell, and it isn't enough to note that an unarmed young black man wrestled the gun away from him, and the Man in Charge, who runs at the mouth otherwise, said nothing.  It isn't enough to lie in bed every morning and wonder whether the Man in Charge is still alive, hoping that he isn't, aware that this is happening, this seethe and boil, everywhere, even in my heart. This is happening. It's difficult to remember that beyond all duality and consciousness is Love.

My friend Rosemarie wrote it --wrest it -- best:

Meanwhile in America











#BlackLivesMatter
#Resist

Saturday Night Mermaids

woodcut by Jose Luis Borges

I really don't have much to post tonight, but I needed to post the above piece of art that Angella sent me via email. She said that it evidently hangs in the International Folk Art Museum in Santa Fe. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it until I realized that J Borges, the artist, is Jose Francisco Borges, whose woodcuts illustrate this amazing book called Walking Words by Eduardo Galeano that I've owned for some years and periodically dipped into to marvel at and exclaim over. Here's a snippet:

Windows on the Sea

It's not fixed in one spot. The fate of mountains and trees lies in the
roots, but the sea, like us, is condemned to a wandering life.
   Sailors at heart: we men of the coast, are made of sea as well as
earth. And we know it well, even if we're unaware of it when we
navigate the waves of city streets from cafe to cafe, and travel through
the mist toward the port or shipwreck that awaits us tonight.


Here's another one:

Window on a Woman (III)

No one could kill that time, no one: not even ourselves. I mean: as
long as you are, wherever you are, or as long as I am.
   The calendar says that that time, that short time, no longer exists;
but tonight my naked body is oozing with you.

"Hope for a Sea Change" is out and available for purchase! UPDATE!

A new version of the book with an added, short chapter about medical marijuana, is available and will be downloaded wirelessly if you've already purchased the e-book. Thank you so much for all of your support today and always!

I woke up bleary this morning after last night's festivities to a message from Angella at 37Paddington that my Shebook e-book was available for purchase on Amazon right this very second!

Good lord, ya'll. This is very exciting for me. I hope you'll download it for $2.99 and then spread the word to your friends and accomplices in life.

Forgive the shameless self-promotion that you might witness over the next few weeks. I promise that if I become a gazillionaire, I'll buy us all a private island where we can lie around all day talking about books and poetry, sip bourbon and relax.

Here is the link:

Amazon
Shebooks.net

Things I've Noticed About Medical Marijuana, Sophie and The World in General

When I put on Sophie's socks in the morning, she doesn't startle when I touch her foot and then go into a seizure.

When I put on Sophie's pants in the morning, she doesn't flex her foot so rigidly that I can't get her pants leg over it.

The Los Angeles Times newspaper reports that the case against the archdiocese of Los Angeles regarding pedophile priests and Cardinal Mahoney's specific participation in shielding these men, shuffling them around the church and then hiring legions of fancy lawyers to defend him is now settled. Many of the abused will receive monetary damages, the Catholic church had to borrow from cemetary funds to pay the damages and Cardinal Mahoney never went to jail.

When she wakes up in the morning, Sophie doesn't spend forty-five minutes having myoclonic seizures.

Sophie has no body odor or clammy hands and feet.

Not a day goes by that some article or another appears about medical marijuana and its effects on epilepsy. I'm noticing that The Powers That Be are rattling their sabers, bemoaning the lack of evidence, rattling on about double-blind placebo studies blah blah blah and never once mentioning that our children have been subjected to dozens of drugs in what surely must be an experimental fashion as the combinations are near endless and no one seems to know apparently what these drugs do and have done to our children's precious bodies.

The boys and I have eaten dinner with her for weeks and weeks, and we haven't had to go into rescue mode when Sophie has a seizure at the table.

Red plants produce green conical blossoms that break into yellow flowers all on their own.

My favorite medical expression on the inserts of anti-epileptic drugs: Mechanism of action unknown.

I haven't had to drag Sophie down the hallway to her room after a seizure in weeks and weeks.

You should read these two beautiful posts before the month of February is out:

American Promise
I Just Looked Around and He's Gone


Reader, what have you noticed today?