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Friday, May 16, 2014

Looking Back

I really didn't plan on writing anything today.  Or maybe ever again, for that matter.

What was I supposed to do?  Pick up where I left off?  Play catch up?  No, it's all too much to carry. 

It's like a long distance relationship that's hanging on to that frozen moment.  Holding hands from far away is fruitless attempt.  At a certain point, we all wither and die in each other's minds, only to live on as ghosts of our former selves. And as we meet again, we stare, two ghosts in the night, fumbling about with the hope that our new beings haven't alienated what we once were.  The accelerated gravity of displaced time may become too much to bear.  There is no recipe, no book, or no others that can bring back the dead.  And, therefore, sometimes the past is just best left where it will always reside. Otherwise the cost is too high for the future.

Revisionist history is attainable, but will not be accepted by the witnesses, leaving us at the crossroads.  However, we're presented with a false choice--one can not walk back. Turn around, the road is disappearing until black.  Just like the great-great-great-greats before us whose very names we've forgotten. Whittled down to an abstract reality that we are bound by anything more than dust.

I respect the past for it has the constituents of the present.  But out of this reverence, I stop short of commitment.  For death shows no mercy and ghosts have no future.  They're all left behind.

So here we are. We shall accept the increasingly heavy weight and fading road, and we'll soldier on.

Monday, January 20, 2014

He Was A Peaceful Loving Man


Not me.  I'm crayyyy.  Yup, some dude bumped his shopping cart into mine and I took his children and sold them on E-Bay.

It's Martin Luther King we're talking about here.  That peaceful loving dude.  I'm not going to wax poetic about the man.  I'll leave that up to my 5-year-old mop-head, EGB.  She's in kindergarten where she's learning real stuff, with real teachers, and how to fight boys.

I asked her what she learned in school and she didn't give me the ol, "nuthin'".  I got real answer that let's you into the psyche of a youngster.  They tell it to you straight.

EGB for President of this whole damn place.

Side note--a few days after this, she started weeping at the dinner table.  I asked her why and she told me she felt "so sad that the brown people were treated the way they were by the white people.  And it was just because they were brown."  She felt it all.  Internalized the pain of history.

Leave it up to a 5-year-old to see and feel the world as it should be--fair.   I know that big heart is going to crush her someday, but it's my hope that she dreams as big as her heart.  If so, we'll all win.

Stay true to your hearts little ones.