Dr. Seuss's Wife

Helen Palmer Geisel, the wife of the famous Dr. Seuss, had a bad run through a series of illnesses, including cancer. Dr. Seuss began a relationship with another woman, which broke Helen down even further. Distraught, she decided on an overdose of barbiturates.

This is her suicide note:

Dear Ted, What has happened to us? I don't know. I feel myself in a spiral, going down down down, into a black hole from which there is no escape, no brightness. And loud in my ears from every side I hear, 'failure, failure, failure...' I love you so much ... I am too old and enmeshed in everything you do and are, that I cannot conceive of life without you ... My going will leave quite a rumor but you can say I was overworked and overwrought. Your reputation with your friends and fans will not be harmed ... Sometimes think of the fun we had all thru the years ...

I just found this out today an needed to share the despair it made blossom inside me.

Although, as I am happy and in love, the very existence of that dedication and passion for someone can be seen as a celebration of the human spirit - if you ignore the horror of the situation. :/

SCOTUS Legalizes Gay Marriage Nationwide - Hannity!

I would like to congratulate all of my friends and their friends and everyone else in this nation who has struggled so long against an antiquated system of discrimination. Also: I'm available to solemnize weddings if you're nearby!

Even Sean Hannity inadvertently got in on the celebration via iHeartRadio. LOL.

My First Heartbreak: Firestar

Warning: sappy content herein.



From 1981-1983, NBC Saturday Morning aired an animated show Spiderman and His Amazing Friends. I was five or six at the time, but I loved it: Spidey was always a quick-quipping badass, Iceman was, well, he made fucking ice out of his hands, and then there was Firestar. *le sigh*

I was absolutely head over heels in love with Firestar. I was many years away from feelings of sexual attraction, but somehow felt such a desire, such an affinity towards the character, that it made a lasting impression on me, even at such a young age.

I specifically remember my father - working for the local NBC affiliate at the time - brought home a 5x7 promo glossy of the three heroes sliding / slinging / flying in action. And me: just staring at Firestar, alone in my room, until my emotive threshold met up with my realism that she was a cartoon and the awesome adoration exuding from my eyes turned to tears as I truly realized I would never be able to experience her beauty/persona personally. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Firestar had broken my heart.

And it's probably 90% of the reason I have a thing for redheads.

And I look back on that as a magical time of sorts, because at its core, it was pure, not an overwhelming desire to possess, but just to know more, comprehend more. And a despair that came with the inability.

Years later, I still see a little bit of that pull to know an inner beauty in every person I meet, though it only gets intense enough to tear up when I stare at the clouds or the Hubble Deep Field.

Beauty is in everything. And, in a sense, love is too. And I think I'm concluding that a cartoon character opened my mind to both and handed me the tools to appreciate them at just the right age to become the person I am today.

N00b Love, Long Overdue

As I slouch towards the Babylon Bethlehem of 1500 posts and 6 full years doing this, I realized yesterday that I'm up to 75 followers! W00t!

[EDIT: I was attempting to quote Yeats "The Second Coming"

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

]

Because it's been so long, some of the shout-outs are people who have been following me for a bit, so not all n00bs, but damnit - recognition is due!


(for purposes of this post, everyone after Jan 2011 is a n00b)

I see Massey
and Kyna at Crystal Coast Gardener
and Zev at Swords Into Plows
and Karla Marx.
Ooh, there's GEORGEPER
and CramCake at Finding Meaning in the Everyday.
Why it's Cake Betch at The Hot Mess Chronicles
and Goofy Girl at There is Grandeur...
and Courtney
and Mikeb302000.
I spy Jang chub Ozer at Mocksure (and others)
and Mike Spicer
and jane j Chiccoreal.
Hello Kris Bunda!


Link juice to you all through my post and Linktastica Magic Box! blogroll.


...I'd still like to have a Superman day...

Say Hi to the Wonderful N00bs!

Looks like I keep picking them up.



Yum!

So everyone say hello to:
Kay at Kay's Thinking Cap
Badger at Vienna for Dummies
Ashley at Beyond Passing Time
The Domestic Minx
Nikkolas at Skeptical Eye
Zaki's Corner
Geof at Enter the Man-Cave
...and Josh, who doesn't have a blog, but likes to read others'.

Cheers to all!

Say Hi to the Fab N00bs!

Last person of my following bunch I said hello to was Blueberry over at Texas Oasis. Hey there again!

And since then we've got a few more! So let's all give a hardy CFC Welcome* to (if there be no link, there be no blog):

Pearl
Camila Alvares
Debra, She Who Seeks
The Invisible Seductress
Chris at Rabid Intuition

Visit, comment, love.


*(Despite the tone you may have interpreted on this blog "CFC Welcome" is defined by clapping or commenting, not a pearl necklace and a Cleveland steamer.)

Lost Dog

You ever turn a corner or get out of your car or just unexpectedly see something that turns your act into accidentally walking into a bus, but one just big enough that it plows right into your stomach?

That was me tonight hitting the gas station for smokes after a networking event.

I parked, got out, and gave all the crap scotch taped onto the glass of the AmeriStop a rudimentary glance and then

BLAMMO!

I saw something that looked like this:



Scrawled like that, a faded poster, copied with a cheap nickel copier, terrier in the slightly-skewed picture on the sheet. The "C" was in caps. And no name of the dog. No phone number. Just a sad, silent plea.

And I looked, thought "Aww, sad." Then read the last line and just about fell over. Then supported myself on weak knees as it processed that there was not dog name or phone number.

And for that instant, I don't think I've been that sad in a very, very long time.

So I share with you.

I'll be in the area again next Tuesday and will get a pic if it's still there. I hope to God I just missed something and my memory fails me in sorrow and there was contact information on that poster.

Nudist Streaker Love Story (SFW)

Brilliant and touching :)

Intermittent Posting, Some Wisdom

Sorry about the intermittent posting. It's been an emotional couple of weeks as my grandfather slowly wastes away, now in a bed in his own home. Two days ago, he was down to methadone for medication, edema in the hands, kidneys starting to give out. Any just God would've taken the man already.

But enough of the sad; when he goes, it will be the right time. I can't live as Emotion's punching bag rag doll until it happens. I'll be enough of a mess when it does.

So in the loving vein of Good ol' USA killing dozens of kids in Afghanistan and the right wing of the radio and potential presidential campaign both deriding diplomacy and volunteerism, how about some Dali:

Real peace [is] not just the absence of violence or of war... A mere absence of war is not genuine, lasting world peace. Peace must develop on mutual trust.

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

How beautiful would the world be if everyone thought that way?

I Will Possess Your Heart

Death Cab for Cutie. If you don't know, you should. Thank tasty PoliTits for this one.

Quitting? How About Joining?

Ricky the Dolphin from e-Reef News

As many of you may know, one of my favorite ways to read blogs is to get them sent to me via Feedburner. Which is why I joined for the pleasure and ease of others (except for the embedded videos that never appear in the email), so they may receive Ricky in their box.

I do not have many official subscribers (hey - now's the perfect time to enter your email on the left to subscribe via Feedburner!), and yesterday I received a cancellation from Feedburner for "Reason 2: Offensive, does not agree." What-what?

How do you read my blog for the regular offensive, often witty, and sometimes even inspired commentary about everything from tech gadgets to local and world politics to parenting to - very often - religion - long enough to say "Hey, I want to see these posts in my inbox every day" and then say "Ooh, that's distasteful! Shame!" Huh?

I appreciate and love all my readers. I appreciate and love all comments, even those from trolls. I'm almost at 500 posts and my actual numbers increase every month, slow and steady. And it gives me a jump to see that people like it. But I want to lay it out, just in case I haven't offended you yet:

I'm a liberal, a progressive. I'm a registered Democrat and will vote for either of the current candidates despite what may happen in the coming months, despite my vigor for Kucinich's reasonable, not-for-profit health care plan and the media's rape of the electoral process.

I believe in god, but not God. I believe in spirituality, but not religion. Jesus rocked out, but he was a radical that went directly against conservative thought of the time and now he's embraced by conservatives who stand for exactly what he stood against. I think all organized religion has the same potential for good and evil and that balance is constantly in flux. I have tattoos and piercings. I smoke. I drink. And when we finally realize that marijuana is not the devil and put it on the same footing as beer, I will smoke the shit out of it. Again. I do not fit in a box.

I think people should have the aid of the community if they fall on hard times but have no tolerance for people riding the welfare wave. I have pity on sorrow but no tolerance for "poor me." I've lived in - and occasionally return to, for a brief hour or two - complete and utter despair, but have no tolerance for depression as an excuse. Maintenance medication in general is an oxymoron.

Sex education should be taught in schools; condoms should be given out. Kids are having oral sex at 9 years old, if not younger. Abstinence programs have resulted in more pregnancy. And that is the fault of the parents. Not one parent, but unless all of us give a shit, it is all our fault. See Violence, Apathy.

I love my wife, my daughter. I love cats, like dogs, and am allergic to both. I love listening to the trees and staring at the clouds, the stars. I love Necco Wafers, Spree, and Penn Station Artichoke subs. I love nuance, irony, and people-watching. I play video games.

If these things turn you off, rile you up, or simply get you pissed: subscribe. You may just get the motivation to fire your own rockets into the blogosphere. If these things resonate: subscribe. You'll only get more of the same.

Either way, here I am. The center may not hold, but I promise to. Regardless.

Ancient Chinese Secret ...for Destruction and, Apparently, Patriotism

Wait, what was I writing about?

Oh, yeah, let's try this:



From those lovely Brits at the Telegraph:

Satellite imagery, passed to The Daily Telegraph, shows that a substantial harbour has been built which could house a score of nuclear ballistic missile submarines and a host of aircraft carriers.

In what will be a significant challenge to US Navy dominance and to countries ringing the South China Sea, one photograph shows China’s latest 094 nuclear submarine at the base just a few hundred miles from its neighbours.

Other images show numerous warships moored to long jettys and a network of underground tunnels at the Sanya base on the southern tip of Hainan island.

I shouldn't have to say this, but there are many, many ignorant "I'm a victim" folks out there, and apparently the Chinese are just as good at misplacing aggression as rednecks are: the following tirade is focused at the powers that be, the oppressive government of China, primarily, that has nothing to do with the Chinese people, who should overthrow their oppressors.

So...Aside from the obvious arch-villain mastermind cave lair issue, let's go over the political basics one more time:

• China fucking owns us because they own a sick amount of our debt. They could shake their money-maker and cause a dip in the Dow. They shuck poison toys, smirking as they shake our hands with shit, smeared in their palms, mouthing "Whatcha gonna do?" all the while eying the vice in which they have out balls clamped.


• China has one man and one woman available for military service for every American alive. Let me say that in another way: China's standing potential army (age 18-49) is well over twice the population of the entire U.S.A., all ages. Those fit for service are just under "twice."


• Based on past diplomatic efforts of the past eight years, China can deal with Russia. Russia can deal with Iran. Iran can deal with China. Iran can deal with Venezuela. Iran can deal with North Korea. Russa can deal with North Korea. They're all kind of buddies in that they think we need to be taken down a peg.


• We really don't want to talk to any of them.

Here's a reminder in the form of a delicious Photoshop I put together a little less than a year ago:



Everyone's heard the phraseology of "America the Bully." True dat. But our world, the playground, if you will, has recently seen some kids bulk up. And they're all talking in the corner. They may not have the abilities or the technology or the know-how on their own, but they can MacGyver it if they needed to, and together the numbers are in their favor.

And the US is just kind of mindlessly, dreamily staring at the sandbox. Invested, he'd whisper, were he asked.

And it has suddenly become very quiet, but US doesn't really notice.

So when the beatdown comes, we know who'll throw the first couple punches. But when US is bent over a little, when those accosting have proven weakness beyond a reasonable doubt, who else will join in? Who will come out of the woodwork? Who else will align with a potential "new bully?" Who else will come out with baseball bats or sticks or hat pins to give a whack "because it's about time?" or "just because?"

(pause)
I think the more frightening, "reality" question is: should this paranoid thought experiment play out as proposed, how would I react? I complain about America and I try to better America and I write and I vote and I participate in activism when possible and I do all these things because I do love and want to protect the freedom to do these things of which I speak.

So if America was the object of a military, world-wide, gang rape, would I leave my wife and daughter and take all my tech savvy and voice and passion and intelligence and potential firearm acuity and strap one on and blow the fuck out of anything that actually threatened this country and all that it stands for? To make this world safe for my daughter to blog and piss and moan about what's wrong with America?

You bet your ass I would.

Just like if the zombies attack.

Fuck. I think I just got all patriotic. And maybe emotional. Not to worry; it's a feeling, not a flag or a pin or a gun, so few will actually recognize it.

Shit, I've got to get a gun.

Let's just keep this between us.

The Time Traveler's Wife

In one of those crazy incidences of synchronicity, this past Saturday night saw me at the home of some of my favorite people. Let's call them Art and Music, for as I am Writer, they eat their names with savor.

Saturday evening, after many a libation, we were visually walking the bookshelf and Art told me about a book she'd been given but never read: The Time Traveler's Wife. The next morning, mildly foggy from the aforementioned evening, I appeared back at my parents' house. Before I went home, without mentioning the previous conversation, I was handed The Time Traveler's Wife and told to read it.



So now I must.

But I don't just spill trivial bullshit on a regular basis, so here's the crux: I've barely begun the book (working on Harry Potter 6 right now as well), but caught this poem in the opening pages. It's called "Love After Love" but is more appropriately entitled "Love During Love." Because we need it. We forget, sometimes, during a relationship and especially during a marriage, that we are solitary figures, that we have an individual personality. We forget to know ourselves, our desires, our dreams. And sometimes we need to give ourselves a giant fucking hug.

(note: I realize this punches in the face the Zen Buddhist parts of my idealistic life, but I'm an admitted walking dichotomy, so get the hell over it.)

I almost cried the first time I read it. I cry now reading it again and again. Because I've forgotten.

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.


Derek Walcott