Never Forget the Old Ones

Many things... uplifting, unusual, unexpected things have happened in my life. Only recently I've discovered that my life hasn't been like other people's. Some of that is surely chance. Some has been because of my family, work or friendships. There've also been things behind which I never quite see a hand, but know it's there.

Such a thing is in my life now. A new ship, voyage, quest, whatever metaphor pleases. It's funny, though, that often when things look like a dead end, they aren't. They're resting places. At some point there comes an opening, a new path. It probably isn't what is expected and may be hard to recognize. Turn from it or let the herd sway you away, you lose it forever. Don't heed what the ordinary advise. They fear, mock and put down what they don't already know. Pity their small sightedness but don't stay amongst them. Bless them, wish them well, and jump on. Listening to them seriously is a virus that you'll never be rid of. It causes doubts and creates fears that you don't naturally own. It's taken me years to sort that out.

At some point I'll accept for once and all that those who piss on my parade are simply never to be trusted. They have their path, I have mine. And to truly rise above and circumvent it all can mean alienating those you love most. Love has as many entangling tentacles as Cthulhu.

Still, there is something of a redeeming force in life. I've taken too many leaps of faith and landed intact to not believe it. And I've seen too much to think I've seen it all. There is, always, hope in the unknown.

The Playboy in the Bathroom

After my older brothers came home from the Army, there was often a Playboy in our bathroom. It was there in a stack with the NY Times Sunday magazine, National Geographic and others. Women were far out-numbered in our family. It wasn't weird to me, I didn't think about it, nobody mentioned its presence; it was just there.

Then in the Spring of 4th grade my pal Allen brought a Playboy to school and got caught. He'd been showing us the pages-long Little Annie Fanny cartoon when Miss Clarke snagged it with disgust. But the die was cast. I'd found cartoons I loved almost as much as Disney. Playboy's cartoonists were damned good. Rich in illustration and fabulous color. It was the late 60s. There was no arbiter of taste nor even a Women's Lib movement yet. It was all stereotypical sexist BS but that was above the radar of a 10 year-old girl. It was the beauty of the drawing that I loved. When a new Playboy appeared in the bathroom stack, I went for the comics.

From Playboy's Erich Sokol, Harvey Kurtzman and Will Elder I graduated to R. Crumb and became a lifelong fan of outrageous cartooning. It's a talent I admire because I'm completely incapable of doing it. Here is a blog post from Animation Archives featuring Little Annie Fanny- not for kids!!!- in all its glory:
http://www.animationarchive.org/2007/03/pinups-kurtzman-and-elders-little-annie.html

We Don't Have a Monarchy, or Do We?

Everywhere you look in media this month, there's something about the wedding of William and Kate. It's ubiquitous. How Americans could get besotted by royalty after the treatment we've had from them is anyone's guess. Half of us came here to get away from them. I guess now that we're at a safe distance it's okay to watch them on the TV. It all seems more created by the media than a real interest of the people.

If you were to believe the US news spokesmodels, every single household here is celebrating with the British Royal Family. That's not true. There are plenty of us who don't care at all and have more important matters at hand. There are some who hate all royalty. Most households in the US live under a far crueler feudalism and oftentimes root for their masters. Of course I'm talking about the rich corporations who run and corrupt our country. They are our kings and there's nothing to keep them in check. Their only allegiance is to their money. If anything, they're much less useful than a Royal Family; they don't do funny human things we can point at and laugh, they do antisocial things that harm the public. Look at Donald Trump, a corrupt bazillionaire with no morals and no reason to be lauded much less listened to. Yet people take him seriously just because he's rich.

I've got nothing against William and Kate. William was born to his fate as I was born to mine. At least we'll never see him with a smug sneer and horrible combover pretending to intelligence. I hope.

Scylla and Charibdis

Ever since reading the classics in high school, periods of my life and situations ring home from them. The last couple of days I have been between Scylla and Charibdis. But my monsters are shaped like humans needing attention. It seems no matter what and no matter how I try to listen, stay supportive and help, I'm screwed. Meanwhile, things I want to do and even taking care of myself are falling to the wayside which is making me bitchy. Not to mention that sleeping has become a luxury. And when sleep goes, there go all the dominoes.

"Hey!" I want to yell, "I've been thru 3 months of shitstorms; I can't deal with any more! Give me a break!" Which isn't an option because when people need help they need it in the moment, not next week. You're either able or not and I'm just asshole enough to always volunteer, regardless of my ability. Because in the back of my head are the voices of guilt, those who I wasn't there for in their moment of need, and for whose demises I hold myself partly responsible. And I don't need more voices in that chorus.

On the other hand are all the sane thoughts- I can't help anyone unless I'm okay first; if I don't take care of myself I'll be really screwed; stop trying to please and help everyone; if they can't deal with me needing time without pressure, fuck them. Which are all reasonable truths. However, when the crazy train comes to town reasonable things don't count. Every encounter with a crazy person wears reason down and leaves you feeling less sure that hopes exist. And that route of thinking leads nowhere good. While the monsters still scream for attention.

What the fuck ever happened that these people in my life are losing it? How come they've lost it and lots of others who are in way worse situations are managing? Should I just tell them to fuck off & deal? Or to get their heads outta their own asses and take a look at others? Is that abusive? Or is that the slap of reality they need? I don't like being in this position. I never know if I choose the right way to go. And like Odysseus I think either way I'm gonna lose people. At least he could see which was the whirlpool that would kill everyone. I can't see the difference.

Mixed Bags

Once more, I was up late and slept in. It's 9:20 my time, and I've just had the first cup of coffee and read some news. This is not the way to get things done and I gotta get back on schedule, but hell if you don't shake it up now and then life gets tedious.

The news is, as always, a mixed bag. Nearly 200 people died ( ed. note: the death toll as of 4/29 is around 300 now) in the tornadoes that tore thru the south. In Tuscaloosa- a major city- lights, signs and debris were blown everywhere and the streets became impassable. From an AP story: "At Stephanie's Flowers, owner Bronson Englebert used the headlights from two delivery vans to see what valuables he could remove. The storm blew out the front of his store, pulled down the ceiling and shattered the windows, leaving only the curtains flapping in the breeze... A group of students stopped to help Englebert, carrying out items like computers and printers and putting them in his van." It will forever hearten me to see people helping people in terrible times. We have a great example of that here in my hometown following the recent fire. Puts me back in mind that people really are good at heart, given the chance to be.

It's pouring rain today, warm and soupy. Not friendly to arthritic gimps. I'd no idea that such a different building would affect my body. While a ground-floor solid brick and concrete structure is cooler and easier to access, it's also quite damp in this weather. I've been way more active since living here; I've been using different furniture, too. Everything is an adjustment. This is a process of getting used to a new life. My allergies aren't so bad and my plants are thriving so I can't bitch. I keep telling myself, "Pain is pain; relax and get used to it." Which works most of the time. Days like this are a challenge.

Good grief it's after 10 now and I've spent much of the time here staring out the window at the light yellow-green buds on the dark trees. The weeping willow alone is an Impressionist masterpiece, if you like that sort of thing. It's peaceful here most of the time... and may soon be even more peaceful. More about that as it develops.