Life in the Empire
Bo's Request (an Art Thread)
Where is home?
Moved twelve times in the last 16 years. The transient in transit. Pierce Transit runs through it. Before I came here I was in Rush Limbaugh’s home town before I was surrounded by corn fed Norwegian bred Lutherans singing praise in perfect four part harmony to that Home on the Plain before I’m taken Home – Praise Jesus. I grew up in Iowa, Little Town on the Prairie an island afloat in the ocean of corn. Lived in SoCal, in the Desert where golf and plastic surgery reigns, might have the grit to stay in rainy Tacoma, but, I always say I’m from San Francisco - though I rarely visit anymore.
Home, where is home?
Home is where you are. Correction, home is where you and the two cats are.
What is home? That safe place. That place with love. I love that old car, it always brought me home. The ’75 Westphalia could be home. Or rather, the place that used to be home. Too old, too unreliable to be trusted anymore. Baling wire and duct tape. Just like the U-Haul I drive to the next place, hoping for home.
Searching for home. Migrants with heavy furniture. U-haul. Our orange travois with wheels keeps getting bigger. Full of stuff. Heavy Stuff. Stuff that anchors us. To a home of nostalgia. Anchors to a home that never really existed. That place. This is the place! Well bully for you Brigham Young. Bring ‘em young. Not young anymore, with more stuff each move to stuff in the moving van and every move leaves behind anchors that are mourned in passing.
A house burns down and the anchors are cremated and the past has passed on.
The bubble is burst. The house is on the market. The anchor is weighed. The trees we planted are left behind. Do the new owners love that Japanese Maple we planted as our 10th anniversary gift to our dream of home? Have they maintained the landscaping? Have any of the plants, the dreams, the love we planted been cared for in our absence? Or have they been torn up by the roots to make room for the next owners’ dream of home?
Where are the anchors? Is there a home port? Adrift. Without a home. Drift wood is picked up for beach fires to warm the beach rats without a home. Their shacks have been bulldozed like West Bank ancestral olive groves to make room for more condos and home-loving dreamers blowing a bubble. Pop!
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Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by waldopaper on
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Yeah... Black Dog is biting lotsa folk these days. And good thing to remember: it's not about you.
Rule for me: never dish it out. Always take it. Not saying I am any good at following the rule. It's just a rule... and gotta tell myself, "...a rule is a rule, Fool." Eid ist Eid.
Check out what this guy did with an Airstream. "...I have started describing myself as a pragmatic apocalyptic. What that means is, there are huge problems on the horizon, likely severe crises ahead, and there is at present no light at the end of the tunnel." I don't think the Airstream guy said that.
I said that. So my whole fam moved away because they could not stand my anger and negativity. But nobody wants to lose the house. Ha. Ha. I am running out of bread and can't keep paying. They just want to lose MY ass... and they can't keep the house and their cribs too. Boo hoo.
So always remember: it's not about you.
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Sweet Zombie Jesus
So I'm doing my one and only Friday class. Only four people show up for what I called "freaky friday" because I had to leave so my boss could talk to them privately. Wrote "See The Facts Unfolding" on the board and talked about the Indiana FRRA thing. Then somebody pointed out that it was Good Friday, and I cried aloud,"Oh my Lord, what a Heathen I have become!" And I meant it.
In days past I would speak with my Lord in private... usually to apologize. God... what has happened to us? Why are families collapsing? Why can't politicians talk like normal people? Why are we REALLY being spied upon? Because motorcycles don't lay eggs. Then the boss shows up and I told them I was going to go play in the traffic. Then I skyed out Good Friday and didn't know it was Easter until my estranged wife shows up dressed as the Church Lady.
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Permalink Reply by pan on
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Kurt Vonnegut’s Graduation Speech: What the “Ghost Dance” of the Native Americans and the French Painters Who Led the Cubist Movement Have in Common
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OK I admit it: I am really shitty at paperwork... which is why I usually don't submit anything for anything... but the Gburg artist in residence thing is just too good to pass up. So what- print out hard copies of my web pages? Can't send them links... they said so... and suppose I could to convert them to P Dee fuckin F files... (what for if I have to print them anyway?) so I am putting this off for the weekend.
Usually most "submissions" aren't worth the time and money.
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Hard to tell as the instructions refer to images or videos yet they specify that writers are welcome to apply. I'm thinking .pdf files.
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You might want to contact them and ask. The call is for writers as well as visual and performing artists yet the portfolio submission guidelines only pertain to visual and performing artists (.jpgs or video). This is probably because most of the other Parks don't include writers and they forgot to change the format. Should probably ask if there is a word limit per entry.
C o n t a c t
National Parks Arts Foundation
Santa Fe, New Mexico USA
Tel: 505-715-6492
info@nationalparksartsfoundation.org
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Gettysburg (the move) ...all 4 hours... use the link before the intellectual property Nazis bust it up again.
I am interested in what you guys think of this movie (unless you've seen it already) I just watched for the umteenth time. As a rusty old technician I still think it is an outstanding film (although the music track is heavy handed at times)... but you can always remix. Start at about :40 to 1:09:15 the "killer angels" dialogue. Great book. Be sure to have a happy Openly Secular Day.
Hm,,, the was mostly over on freaky friday... 150 years ago.
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Permalink Reply by BO on
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Got no interest in the mechanics of war. The insanity surrounding it is far more interesting to me. Not quite a war movie, but I did enjoy this...The story of Jedediah Longtree staring Conan Obrien.
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HAW! "after 4 years in the woods..." That's sorta the idea. Carve away everything that doesn't look like a duck. This movie is a large part of the Gettysburg meme. It's shot well. They could have made it a splatter move... but it wouldn't have worked as well. I want to do the blowflies and skeletons... and make it funny!
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The mechanics of war: most of the stuff in that movie don't look like a duck. "New birth freedom" had web feet... and a bunch stuff attached that looked more like a spider. What looks the same is Cemetery Hill. Little Rose was a new birth of freedom. The mechanics back then were as simple as they could get. If you visit the hill today, you will find flank markers... which look (to me) like the yellow footprints in an Arthur Murray dance studio. No technology more complex than a coffee grinder. No air arm. Nothing goes faster than 20 mph. Yeah, telegraph...bla bla bla. Not the point.
The point is memes... like germs. It is likely that germs took Rosa's young life at age 14... but Rosa saw a murmuration above the hill... and immediately understood memetics a century before the idea ever occurred to anybody. Likely the 1870s had a good idea of what typhus was... and perhaps they even had an idea of "germs." Hyper-bacteria are evolving now because... yadda yadda...not the point. The mechanics of war are an important part of the story... but we don't want to include any of that. Interesting though... what was happening on the hill over 150 years ago is happening to us now: Gods and generals.
I miss Professor Hume. What drove me out of the corporate world was living in a Dilbert cartoon. When I got frustrated with the paperwork and patoot-covering in the Writing Department, she told me, "...these people are not writers. They're grammarians." I felt better, and it made the onset of the disease more bearable. In later years, that changed to "...jackals and bottom-feeders." Yep. I wasn't feeling good about that. It looked kinda like this:
Oh boy did I get leadership. Of course it was followed by the usual progression:
Jesus is a meme... no more... no less. Most text is metaphor; no more, no less. Here lies Lester Moore and two slugs from a .44. Know less no more. Most Bible-thumpers miss things like that, and General O.O Howard was a bible-thumper. There is a huge equestrian statue of him on Cemetery Hill right across the road from the Gate House like a giant wart on grandma's nose that nobody wants to talk about. "Uh-oh" ordered the family away while Steinwehr und die Jungen were turning the hill into an artillery platform, and there were plenty of Deutscher on the hill who thought der Christ talked like a sausage.
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Well, my brilliant post about civil and non-civil wars just dissapeared into the ether. I said something about the northern industrialists co-opting slavery and moving it to Wall Street. And something about Freedom Fries.
I ain't re-writting it so you'll just have to give me an 'A' regardless.
Spent some hours last weekend watching Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchins videos. Very familiar with the delusions humans use to justify their actions. When I worked for corporate Amerika, the writers I worked with all loved to put Dilbert cartoons up in their cubes. But that didn't stop 'em from being little Eichmans when they had to be. Everyone complained about having to work for the evil corporate machine. Even me.
There just ain't no profit in doing the right thing. Hell, even just living in this country and paying your taxes, makes one part of the problem. The only way out is to unsubscribe from the human race and I don't have the courage for that.
Quick post, poorly written. I have no answers.
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