MiepRowan

Done for now

2012-01-29T00:11:00.000-08:00

Helping one person. we will all see how this will come out.

I found her, she is like me.

I Am A River

2010-12-26T02:04:00.000-08:00

I am a river, I move

Sometimes I have waves, I thrust!

Things fall into me

And sometimes I am done with things.

I move!

I am a river, I change

And am changed

Because that's what rivers do.

I'm Done With Things

2010-11-09T21:59:00.001-08:00

I'm done with things

or else I'm not.

I'm done with things.

But I'm not sure.

I have all of this

confusion.

Forever, or else it seems so.

How much before I get to be done

with these things?

The confusion isn't even interesting!

same old same old.

Sometimes I stay awake until dawn

by accident.

And I suddenly notice that it's lightening

It's a surprise.

It's, kind, of, funny

in a small gentle way

But at the same time, stark.

Here you are, Miep

And here is the light, again

Who will be the winner, this time?

Who will be the winner?

2010-11-09T20:49:00.001-08:00

Death Comes First; Excuses Later

2010-10-30T01:48:00.000-07:00

I cannot say what I have read

It is too terrible, and too cold.

And too self-explanatory.

I don't want to spread these memes

I want to bury them

I want to bury them like sad corpses

that never quite got it

when they were alive.

I don't want a fight

I don't want a kill.

What I want

is a burial.

With ceremony.

We'll light candles, and we will have a dance

in honor of the death

of bad memes.

Of evil thoughts.

A ceremony in honor of all of those

who have ever fought against any of these.

Including those who are dead.

Especially including those who are dead.

Especially those who died wrongly

Those who were killed

by their own hand

by the hands of others

or just by being drowned

in fake memes.

There will be no excuses

Because we've gotten beyond that

Or if we haven't, we must

We must.

Drowned in fake memes

we're dead.

No more excuses.

All that's over.

Somebody please

text the phoenix.

A Poem for the Topix Forum

2010-10-24T00:56:00.000-07:00

What an amusing little Forum this is
with its adjectival ratings
and its total HTML fail.

Cute.

Look at all the funny little people,
with their ever-changing names
and their never-changing rocks.

I could write a program
of most of these people
That would be slightly more amusing
And I'm not even a trained programmer
though I had promise.

I really did. I understood
the whole decision loop thing.
These people don't have a lot of forks
in their trees.

Give me a week to work it out.
I'm a quick study.

Occasionally one runs across
Intelligence
It's always sort of a shock
Like really pretty slime mold

And I like slime mold
I think slime mold is cool
Some of my best friends are into slime mold
They have posted me
beautiful photographs of slime mold.

And then there is Topix
which is a lot less complicated than slime mold
although in its own simple way
Kind of geometric.

And nowhere near as pretty.

Still, occasionally
a stalk pops up from the fungi
With a head with a brain
And we trade comments

such as:
"The windmills here aren't even worth the tilting"

or

"I kind of agree."

And then, fungal me
I go and write more stuff at them
I use my writing like soft napalm
to gently burn away their shells.

They don't like that, much
those Topix creatures.

I could become dozens of them. I could become
an entire Jerry Springer Show all by myself
Right there on Topix.

The main reason
I do not do this
is because I'm already crazy enough. However

Should I decide
that I'm making progress, becoming stable
Planting the good garden, being the good citizen
Making a change that isn't about clothing

It's helpful to know
that I'll have a
fallback
position.

Bad Poem

2010-10-22T01:29:00.000-07:00

I know that

I have been bad

Though I don't want to admit it, who does?

I'm well aware that I have committed the cardinal sin
of engaging in the occasional cheap shot

Though I didn't mean to. I was not thinking. That happens.

There are no excuses

it's just what happened.

I did try to notice, and remember, and attempt to become better.

This is a stupid poem.

This is a poem about how I want to hate on you

because you were so in love with the cheap shots

and because I put up with it for so long.

This is a poem of no love

just cheap shots and martyr moves.

Very boring.

I'm trying

to actually turn this into a poem

To try to see into the dark of all of this

To try to redeem you.

But I cannot.

I just can't do it.

I know you have problems.

Bad problems.

You've always had bad problems.

Thus, I should be kind

I should be forgiving

And I would, if it wasn't for

that lacuna in the middle

of all the bad stuff

where things were going relatively well for you

And you got meaner and meaner

And then I left.

I never talked to you about this. I didn't want to give you
the satisfaction of knowing that your betrayal hurt so badly.

I still think you knew. At least in the moment.

You've likely forgotten by now. You're thinking of me as another betrayer. One you cared for.

And then she left, why?

How can I explain the years of meanness?

How can I explain being told I had to submit to your friends' crappy treatment?

What is the point of even trying?

I don't even know what's happening with you anymore, though I'll likely hear, sooner or later.

Small town.

I did hear that you're paralyzed.

You're actually, physically paralyzed.

That happened. After you drove me away with your cruelty.

Be careful what you wish for.

Poetry Toad

2010-10-13T01:45:00.000-07:00

It's hard to write about one's own introspection

It seems a bit excessive, too narcissistic

The muse exits, says "Well? Where's the art in this?"

And that's a good question. Where, indeed is the art

in obsessing on one's aging

these arbitrary milestones

They are of religion, in some ways.

The necessity of compliance.

The guilt, the frustration, the competition.

Prima donna things, these birthdays.

A friend lost once told me

that one should always throw one's own party.

Don't have expectations. Don't do the guilt thing.

Make it yourself.

She was right about that. She was wrong about other things.

A gift of age is noticing that, observing that people

can be totally wrong in some ways, and totally right in others.

It doesn't seem valid, but there it is.

Right up in your face.

All of these romantic failures, and sad memories of greatness.

All of these attempts to find perfection, and seeing it in confusion

Because that's what it's really all about, even when it looks like

perfection, or evil, or right or wrong.

Mostly it's about confusion. The most pure

stuff mostly gets unnoticed.

Because it is not screaming for attention.

It's just there

waiting to be sullied.

And I know, that sounds mean and bitter

I am mean and bitter, to some extent.

I make no excuses.

But that is not all that I am

I am lots of other stuff, too.

I am the Poetry Toad

She's funny.

She's my ghostwriter.

She croaks in my dreams, when they get too confusing

She brings me back to the terrible dismal nature of fantastic life

And the giggling nature of strange.

Well, what does the Poetry Toad have to offer
for my birthday, looming soon?

She's being a little quiet now.

I know she's kind of a she

like I know I'm kind of a he.

We are a mixed lot.

A Poem For Pluto

2010-10-11T21:03:00.000-07:00

Here upon the mountaintops
that don't exist

I stand, waving my arms, for a moment

and then standing still, looking around at the sky
which is all dark, but there should be stars

here soon. Because the clouds
don't last forever.

no clouds ever last forever.

Meanwhile, the hum occurs
it sings like locusts
like grillen
and all of those other unnameable critters
that bump in the night.

And there I am, in the dark
Waiting for stars, or comets, or wind, or anything
Anything.

With the world singing
in all its craziness
its crazed song breaks
its crazed metaphors
and everything else that breaks.

And there I am
starting to listen
starting to dance

And the wind starts up
my skirts fluff up

And I don't even wear skirts.
Not ever.
Ever.

And, now here are the frogs!
They are singing to me
even though they all died a long time ago.

They sing, as I sit in my rocking chair
that suddenly wasn't there a minute ago

And I dance in my chair, old lady I am
Dancing in my skirts
that were never there

To the frogs
that are gone.

I Hope You Have Not Fallen Into Illness

2010-10-09T05:16:00.000-07:00

or something otherwise bad.

I think of you, trader that you are; still my friend, my wonderful friend whom I'm delighted to have found.

I see us as female beasts, ravaging ravaging ravaging.

But on opposite sites of imaginary fences.

I love you...you love me, I believe that.

We are fighters.

Champs always fight themselves.

Kid's got heart.

noboyfriend

2010-10-04T01:39:00.001-07:00

Noboyfriend, noboyfriend, noboyfriend noboyfriend.

That wasn't sposed to be the end product.

Fuck. I deserved better.

I deserved better than this business of "Oh, Miep! You should slut around and pretend to be stupid, and then maybe one of them could be convinced to put his penis in you!"

Seriously. I deserved better than that.

I deserved better than the taunting, goading people with permanent sex partners.

I deserved better than their ongoing competition. They have fuckers! I do not. Thus, all of the potential fuckers belong to all of those boys and girls.

That's the way it has been for so long.

Until I threw them all away.

Goodbye, loser asshole competitive mean pseudo-friends.

Goodbye, goodbye.

I have no fucker. But I'm done with the competition, the taunting.

Bite me, all of you loser mean-spirited assholes. May you all rot in hell.

May you all rot in hell for doing a good job of making it even more difficult for me, to find a fucker.

A boyfriend.

An anything.

May you rot in hell for working so hard to try to break my ability to trust anyone, at all.

May you rot in hell.

The Music of Trolls

2010-09-22T02:05:00.000-07:00

Oh, you.

There under your bridge.

baiting, baiting.

So misunderstood.

I bet you're really

kind of cool.

If anybody knew.

or tried.

What's it like in the sump, dude?

Kinda moist, I guess.

There but for the

Grace of Dog.

Sorry, troll.

I must decline

an invitation

into the hole.

Though I might visit from time to time.

Just to say hi.

Just to know you are there

alive

a form of living,

sump living.

Somebody's got to do it.

We insist on that, in fact

the rest of us.

It's mandatory. You got the job.

Poor troll.

&&&&

I wrote a poem about someone once

in which I inquired how his fingernails were today.

So, how our yours?

That can get hard when you live in the sump.

I worry about you.

How do you sing? Is it in gamelons?

That would work, I'd think. The simplicity and the echoes.

What do you think of, down there in the sump?

What are your days like?

I guess your sump probably doesn't have any windows

or ventilation.

After all, it's a sump.

But still, there you are

a real troll

down in a sump

It must end somewhere, dear troll.

You can't just go on like this forever.

Live or die, dear troll.

But please

at least, don't forget to try to make sure

there isn't a ladder.

For Claude

2010-09-19T03:17:00.000-07:00

Now that you are on the other side
of an especially terrible wall
please allow me to say
that I cannot imagine what to say

other than the usual, the formal
the trite utterances, that are, at the same time
so right
because what else can one say.

Now that you have been cast
in the role of one who got the worst cast
of the dice, now that no one else
can understand, other than those
who also caught snake eyes

please let me say, that though I
don't understand
because I could not possibly understand
because I have no children
that still, I see the edges
of the horror.

Now that you have gone off to
the part of the ocean where
there be dragons
and then fallen off and drowned

please let me say
that I care for you
And that I know this must be terrible
in all of the worst possible senses of the word.

Now that you face a world of hell
for an indefinite period of time

Please let me say
that I care for you
That you were kind to me when I was feeling crazy
that in fact you've done that reliably
And that it mattered.

Now that all hell is lain open for you
Please let me say
That you are you. And nothing will change that.
Not even tragedy.

And please let me say, as well,
that I am honored to know you.
And have felt so for some time.

And one more thing, too.
That though I have no children, I believe
that you are the sort of person
who would care for me if I had one who died
so prematurely, in such tragedy.

That you would have been there.

Because that's how you are
you and your gifts of trees

That's how you are.

there you were

2010-09-10T22:26:00.000-07:00

Amazing outlier.

There you were.

When I thought all was lost.

You came in.

From different directions. You were afraid.

We talked, now and then.

We got to know each other a bit.

Then we got funny.

And then we got angry.

And then we got angry.

And then we became friends.

And then, I lost that thing,

where one has no friends.

It became something out into the void

Where one suddenly has the energy

to exhaust the fail

but not in a bad or mean way

Just do it.

In a kind way.

And then just sit there, for some time.

Talk to your dog.

Get up in the morning, sometime.

Remember that your dog is there, needs your attention.

Remember that.

Get up. Talk to your dog.

Look at the light.

Think about what must be done.

Look at your dog.

Get out of the bed. But oh, no. First, wake up. And then stretch. Stretch a lot. That's right.

Meanwhile, the dog awaits. He knows. When you work up to the stretching...he starts to pace.

He knows.

He knows it because he's your dog.

He knows that it's time to get up.

He's polite, your dog. But he knows. He knows.

The Entire World

2010-07-27T21:19:00.001-07:00

The entire world, is falling together at the seams,
We are imploding.

Oh, no. Oh, no; not my world.

Not my sweet world.

Maybe yes. Maybe no.

Oceans rumble. Death swills.

When I was a young girl,
we didn't think of this.

We were brave
we were strong.

We knew we would not let the bastards grind us down.

Instead, they ground down

everything else.

Figures.

Now we live on little mental islands
typing, typing, typing

Waiting and wondering

Will we live?

Will our species live?

Will mammals at least survive?

Will there be fish? (no, probably not).

Will there be insects? (possibly)

Plants? Will there be plants?

Can we at least keep plants?

Leave us that much?

Or will you leave us to the theoretical bacterial constructs, that
we think about, when we think of Mars, or moons of Saturn, or planets of reasonably close stars.

Will that be all we get?

Will that be the "hope?"

Is that it?

I didn't want so much to be gone

I used to think it mattered what I wanted, and then I started getting old and
realized that it really didn't matter very much what I wanted.

And now I think of pond scum, and think; wow. How amazing.

I walk through the mundane circumstances of my world...streets, ill-kept lawns, sporadic trash. People in grocery stores. Groceries! So amazing, all of that.

And I think of it all overtaken by the moons of Saturn, the storms of Venus.

Shopping carts hurled into the abyss, flaming away

What songs will be sung then? Because there must always be songs, no?

How will we sing of the end of the world? Because we must be prepared.

It really might happen, in fact it must, eventually.

I just didn't think that I would have to get ready for this,

to create the fairy tales of such, in my lifetime,

as an obligation for my niece's grandchildren,

my nephew's grandchildren

anybody's grandchildren

anybody who is alive now and has children.

But now I'm starting to feel a kind of obligation, to start early

on these myths.

Because, here we go folks,

down the roller coaster

The really big one

Into the really scary one.

What do I have to offer? I ask myself constantly.

What do I have to offer?

Well, I can tell stories.

I can tell stories.

And at the end, that may be

all that is left.

what must I do

2010-06-23T20:36:00.000-07:00

whatever is this,
is that,
that I must do

to fix that broken love thing.

Wow. What a bitch.

Years of this. Four.

Four years of broken love thing.

It never occurred to me that it could go on that long.

that broken love thing.

That broken love thing keeps coming up though,

through the mud

like strong frogs and odd fish.

It's here again. That evolved fucked up broken love thing.

Oh, well, fuck. Here you are again, oh broken-eyed beauty

with your strange new tails, and your twisted, yet strong limbs.

You're here again, to offer, your broken love sump.

That which could suck me in, yet again, yet again.

Not too cool.

But still, I think.

And still, I wait.

And still, I imagine.

But yet, I care, and care and care

because you were not there

too many times, oh dear one.

Not there.

Big Easy to Big Empty

2010-01-12T18:12:00.000-08:00

More December Music

2009-12-03T22:44:00.001-08:00

Rage Against the Machine, "Testify"

Fairport Convention, "I'll Keep It With Mine"

Tracy Chapman, "Give Me One Reason"

&&&

Damien Jurado, "I Had No Intentions"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQFuNHCMF2Y

Elliott Smith, "Trouble"

Mama Gaia Rap

2009-11-30T21:21:00.000-08:00

in your hair
everywhere
you despair
oh beware
Mama Gaia everywhere.

Don't be shy
don't deny
she'll espy
as you cry
Mama Gaia says comply.

If you jump
on the land
feel so grand
in her hand
You are just a lump.

Lump of clay
anime
In her hair
play and play
Mama Gaia she just stare

At foolish lumps
getting bumps
from themselves
silly elves

Mama Gaia she so bored
Foolish humans have her floored
Stuff she made as
silly maid
now she's grown up
so are we
do we see?

Mama Gaia start to roll
tired of the elves gone troll
Knows inside
where we hide
in our hearts
fits and starts

We don't need this foolish crap
Mama Gaia knows the rap.

What to do?
See it through.
Mama Gaia there with you.

See her in
every shade
Every shadow ever made.

See her in
golden spin
turning flowers, light within.

December music

2009-11-28T01:19:00.000-08:00

Dire Straits, "Wild West End" (embedding disabled)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfVkzBAGUVw&feature=fvw

"I Felt Your Shape," Microphones (cover)

The Beatles; "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jz7IjXu0DfQ

Etta Baker (with Taj Majal)

"Going To The Racetrack"

"Goin' Down The Road Feelin' Bad"

John Fahey, "Desperate Man Blues"

With Edison films. Interesting.

William Elliott Whitmore, "Dry"

Lesser Birds of Paradise, "I Envy the Photons"

Sufjan Stevens, "Casimir Pulaski Day"

Sufjan Stevens, "Borderline"

Allman Brothers Band, "Ain't Wasting Time No More," Live 2003

Aimee Mann, "Wise Up"

Nickel Creek, "Anthony"

Oysterband, "Another Quiet Night in England"

Deb Talan, "Ashes On Your Eyes"

P!nk, "18 wheeler"

P!nk, "Missundazstood"

Alison Krauss, "Deeper Than Crying"

Bob Dylan, "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues"

Pink, "Dear Mr. President"

Bo Carter; "My Pencil Don't Write No More"

Josh Ritter, "Chelsea Hotel"

David Bowie, "Young Americans"

Mexican Drought News

2009-11-25T20:26:00.000-08:00

200 Mayan Peasants Arrested for Blocking Road in Mexico
Latin American Herald Tribune
November 25, 2009

CANCUN – More than 200 Mayan peasants were arrested during a clash with police who tried to prevent them from blocking the highway between the southeastern Mexican cities of Chetumal and Cancun, officials said.

About 20 peasants sustained minor injuries and a police officer underwent surgery for a head injury suffered in Tuesday’s clash, Quintana Roo state Deputy Public Safety Secretary Didier Vazquez said.

&&&

The peasants blocked the highway to demand payment of insurance and subsidies for crops lost in the drought affecting the region.

The insurance company has refused to pay claims for lost crops and Quintana Roo’s government has offered to cover only 50 percent of losses, or some 450 pesos (about $34) per hectare affected by the drought.

ANALYSIS-US corn exports lag amid cheap global feed grains

Reuters
November 26, 2009

Nearly 1 million tonnes in corn sales to drought-hit Mexico last week gave U.S. exports a shot in the arm, but the spike in sales is more of a near-term blip than a turning point for slumping corn exports.

Elevated prices, high shipping costs, and stiff competition from cheaper feed grains from around the globe will continue to restrict export sales from the United States, the world's largest corn producer and exporter, traders and analysts said.

U.S. corn prices Cc1> have climbed steadily from a September low near $3 a bushel to around $4 a bushel, even as farmers harvest the second-largest crop on record.

CLIMATE CHANGE: Latin America’s Perpetual Fever

GlobalGeopolitics.net
November 25, 2009

MONTEVIDEO, Nov 25 (IPS) – ”To use a soccer metaphor, which Brazilian politicians like so much, the Kyoto Protocol was the 10-minute warm-up before the real game begins,” said scientist Carlos Nobre in reference to global climate change treaties.

”The real game should begin now, although there are many who would rather remain in the warm-up phase indefinitely,” added the Brazilian expert, who was among the authors of the 1990, 2001 and 2007 reports of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which was a co-recipient of the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize, along with former U.S. vice-president Al Gore.

Nobre’s opinions appear, with those of another 22 noted experts, in the ”First Regional Report on Climate Change: Latin America and the Irreversible Effects of a Warmer Planet”, published Nov. 19 by Tierramérica in Montevideo.

Grain Report

IBT Commodities
November 24, 2009
by Tim Hannagan

MONTH-END ON TIME
We started the week's reports with our Monday weekly export inspection report showing 25.5 m.b. of corn was inspected for near-term export, up from 22.1 the week prior and four-week average of 24.

The worst drought in over 60 years in Mexico has helped U.S. exports as well as a faster harvest leaving Asia in for feed use. We still need sales over 30 m.b. weekly to have the trade turn price bullish.

Mexican farmers reeling from worst drought in decades

Mexico Monitor
November 22, 2009

The El Nino weather pattern has dried up Mexico's rainy season this year, leaving nearly four million farmers reeling from the drought conditions. About 50,000 head of cattle have already died due to lack of water, and if the drought persists, as much as seven million hectares of corn and bean crops could be lost. From the rural community of Temascalito, Franc Contreras has more on Mexico's struggling farmers.

Texas drought

Killing the Thirst
by Tom Palaima
November 13
Texas Observer

This summer Texas suffered through its worst drought in half a century. Two hundred and thirty public water systems declared mandatory restrictions. Crop and livestock losses during the preceding nine months totaled $3.6 billion. Seventy of Texas’ 254 counties were declared primary disaster areas.

In mid-August, as parts of Travis County were labeled “exceptional drought,” the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s worst category, the Austin American-Statesman published the Austin Water Utility's top 10 users. While profiling households that had used 136,900 to 316,100 gallons of water in single months—the average Austin household uses 8,500 gallons—the paper made clear that “[c]onsuming so much water is not against the law” and that these heavy users had paid their bills. Not one of these conspicuous consumers of our most vital natural resource besides oxygen seemed embarrassed or overly concerned.

More Thanksgiving Music

2009-11-24T01:26:00.000-08:00

Elliott Smith, "Pretty Mary K"

Deb Talan, Comfort

Typical Situation, Dave Matthews Band, 1995

Interesting older version. Violin is not electric.

Gordon Lightfoot, "Early Morning Rain"

Tom Waits, "Waltzing Matilda"

Waltzing My Matilda (very different, anti-war)

Bonnie Raitt, "Too Long At The Fair," live 1976

Snow Patrol, On/Off

Marvin Gaye, "Mercy Mercy Me"

laissez les bons temps rouler - a nawleans tribute

(cover) "You've Passed," Neutral Milk Hotel

This boy is a tad fuzzy, but he is a proficient ukulele player, and has a very good ear, and good calm presentation. Promising!

Psychedelic Furs, "Pretty In Pink"

The Shins, "Gone For Good"

Sara Bareilles, "Fairytale"

Velvet Underground, "Rock and Roll"

The Spinners, "Working My Way Back To You"

Spanish Johnny

Interesting version I had not heard before.

A.K.A.C.O.D. French Fries with Pepper (Morphine cover)

top comment

2009-11-21T02:04:00.000-08:00

You know... blogging is really flexible.

We don't ask many questions (unless you claim expertise or display obvious bias) and people come and go at whim.

Happy to see you whenever you show up, disappointed when you don't.

People have lives they don't have to explain.

At least to me.

Thanksgiving music

2009-11-20T23:38:00.000-08:00

Rasputina; "Wish You Were Here" cover

Greg Brown, "Say A Little Prayer"

Furry Lewis, "John Henry"

Cathy Davey, "Cold Man's Nightmare"

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, "I Think I Wanna Die"

Tom Rush, "Urge for Going"

Eva Cassidy, "Who Knows Where the Time Goes?"

Randy Newman; "I Think It's Going to Rain Today"

Marianne Faithful, "Sunny Goodge Street"

Men Without Hats, "Safety Hats."

Saturday Waits

Neil Young, Everybody Knows this is Nowhere. Live in Hyde Park, 2009

God we're all getting old.

Coldplay, "Green Eyes"

Richard and Mimi Farina with Pete Seeger, "Bold Marauder"

This is cool.

Mimi & Richard Farina - House Un-American Blues Activity Dream

More!!

Buffy Saint Marie, "Little Wheel Spin and Spin"

Buffy Saint Marie, Universal Soldier

with a bit of interview first.

Ian and Sylvia, "Four Strong Winds"

The Beatles, "Blackbird"

Monday Music

2009-11-08T21:10:00.000-08:00

Cat Power, "Satisfaction"

Greg Brown, "Our Little Town"

Bob Dylan, "Positively 4th Street"

The Velvet Underground, "Pale Blue Eyes"

Dr. John, "I Know What I've Got / Blue Skies"

Son House, "Grinnin' In Your Face"

Daniel Johnston, "True Love Will Find You In The End"

Dark Tranquility, "Mine is the Grandeur"

Blues Legends born before 1924

Cathy Davey, "Sing For Your Supper"

Nobel Peace Prize Winner Accused of War Crimes by Spain

2009-10-09T03:56:00.000-07:00

http://www.brusselstribunal.org/index.htm

MADRID: Today the Spanish Senate, acting to confirm a decision already taken under pressure from powerful governments accused of grave crimes, will limit Spain’s laws of universal jurisdiction. Yesterday, ahead of the change of law, a legal case was filed at the Audiencia Nacional against four United States presidents and four United Kingdom prime ministers for commissioning, condoning and/or perpetuating multiple war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide in Iraq.

This case, naming George H W Bush, William J Clinton, George W Bush, Barack H Obama, Margaret Thatcher, John Major, Anthony Blair and Gordon Brown, is brought by Iraqis and others who stand in solidarity with the Iraqi people and in defence of their rights and international law.

Well, we can see a little more now why they wanted to get this done tout suite.

As usual, I'm up way too late. But I'm generally nowhere near this speechless. Even this late.

What persists in coming to mind, though, is; "How often do you get the chance to use a headline like this?"

Srsly.

Ohio Food Co-op Swat Team Raid Trial This Week

2009-10-04T23:36:00.000-07:00

John and Jackie Stower run the Manna Storehouse in LaGrange, Ohio. Last December their organic food coop and homeschool were raided by a SWAT team, who invaded their home with guns drawn, held them and their family captive for six hours, and confiscated a large amount of food. No charges were ever filed. The Buckeye Institute is helping the Stowers sue the The Lorain County General Health District, the Ohio Attorney General’s Office and the Ohio Department of Agriculture. The trial will open October 8 and 9 at 8:30 am.

From what I can gather, all this happened because the Stowers were running a buying club, buying in bulk with a bunch of people who pre-ordered with them organically grown food, grass-fed meat, and such other healthy food that they could not afford if they did not buy it in bulk. They were raising their own meat, and had the animals slaughtered by a licensed USDA butcher.

The Stowers did not have a retail food selling license, though.

The search warrant was expired. The SWAT team took computers, personal food stocks of the Stowers, the meat had been delivered back to the Stowers by the butcher shop the day before (this was not long before Christmas, right?)

The Stowers tell their story:

The Stowers are pretty damned scary, I guess.

Cable TV to cover Manna Co-op Trial
by Brad Dicken
October 5, 2009

ELYRIA - A county judge has granted permission to the cable television network formerly known as Court TV to cover a civil trial next week in which the owners of a LaGrange food cooperative have sued several government agencies over a raid on their property last year.

The Dec. 1, 2008, raid on Manna Storehouse on state Route 303 has already garnered quite a bit of attention and complaints that local authorities overstepped their bounds.

Assistant Lorain County Prosecutor Scott Serazin said complaints about how deputies handled the raid - law enforcement disputes claims that officers stormed the home of John and Jacqueline Stowers with guns drawn - are obscuring the real issues in the case.

April Update: SWAT Team Raid on Homeschool and Food/Health Ministry for Hungry Families
Journal of Whole Food and Nutritional Health
April 21, 2009

It happened before Christmas 2008 at a food and health ministry for hungry families in Ohio. It was as if the family were bio-terrorists or something.

Three snipers with high-powered rifles were aimed at the home with ten children being homeschooled. Babies and toddlers were inside also. About twelve armed sheriff deputies along with agents from the Lorain County (Ohio) Health Department and the Ohio Department of Agriculture raided and ransacked the inside and held the family for six hours inside a room in their home outside Lagange, Ohio.

Food, computers and phones were seized from their private home along with 61 boxes of grass-fed beef and lamb were taken that was butchered, wrapped and labeled by a licensed and USDA inspected butcher shop and delivered the day before. According to the expired search warrant, deputies were to seize money and bank accounts. The storehouse of organic foods from a variety of suppliers as well as the personal food stock were taken as the terrified family watched.

Whatever complaint the State of Ohio had, it is hard to imagine why the officials couldn't just ask politely, or at worst show up with a search warrant and insist. But the idea that they needed to scare everyone with weaponry and arrest them is far beyond the pale. I think once we buy them a SWAT team, they will inevitably find excuses to use it.

And once they start invading people's lives and taking them prisoner like that - people with kids - and get away with it, what's to stop them from taking the kids?

It happens. "You are criminal parents, and now we're absconding with your children and foisting the child protection agencies upon them."

Oh, happy days. Not.

If you want to read more about this, here's the wordpress blog link.

zappa

2009-09-27T01:37:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mq-HWKhnI-s&feature=player_embedded

Remember the Bloggers of Yesteryear

2009-09-12T17:22:00.000-07:00

Remember back when,
we let them work us?

Because we didn't know better
weren't practiced enough
too easily led.

Remember when we used to fight each other
over stupid stuff
not realizing we were like rodents at each other's throats
while meanwhile, the hawk swooped menacingly
laughing
well, that is if hawks could laugh.

And I like hawks
I just don't like the people in that hawk metaphor.

Remember back when
we thought we needed them?
The heavies, the big guys.

It was all so attractive, all that action.
And we thought we could really change each other
instead of changing into each other.

Now, sometimes
changing into each other
ain't all that bad.

In fact, it's kinda underrated
when it happens as a free-form process.

it's the controlled version that wasn't quite so good
not quite so happy
and the built in fighting
and the built in judging
and the built in publicity
that was too often about the fighting and the judging
that wasn't so good.

Remember when we realized that
we didn't have to do that
because we really didn't need that
because what we really needed
was each other?
Pure, unadulterated, each other.
Warts and all.

So here's to blogging the future
since it got us here
because somebody cared
and then some more people cared
and then a whole hell of a lot of more people cared

and then, one astonishing, amazing, frightening day
We were there.
We'd blogged the future, and it was us.
And none of us were the enemy anymore,
because we'd learned
that there doesn't have to be an enemy
because life itself is enough of a hassle.

now that we spend our time
with each other
instead of alone
enemies are relegated to fairy tales
They are things to warn children about
lest they become their own enemies
that would be bad
and we understand that now.
We understand the importance of
children, and their strangeness
and how wonderful that is
instead of something to be hit.

So thanks to those people
so long ago
too long ago
who blogged the future and saw these things
and how they must be
because it had to be
because there wasn't any other
way to do it
that worked.

for the users and takers

2009-08-30T23:15:00.001-07:00

Hi there! Remember me?
The one you decided didn't matter, the one that was bad?
I'm not dead yet, though I'm sure it would be a relief to you
should I exit the mortal coil and all, a bit precipitously.

I have no such plans, though. I would not, for one thing,
give you the satisfaction.

But beyond that, why should I let you matter that much?

Lewis Carroll put it best. You're all just a pack of cards.

A flag for Ted Kennedy

2009-08-25T23:27:00.001-07:00

I hadn't thought about how I might feel about Ted Kennedy dying. Having spent my life trailing along behind the boomers, I had not felt as identified with the Kennedy clan as so many in the generation prior to mine.

I knew he was a good Senator. I knew that he seemed to be a flavor of good Senator that we don't seem to get much anymore; the liberal kind.

But hearing the news, I found myself wanting to fly a flag I don't own, at half-mast. We do that for Presidents and ex-Presidents, including ones who caused a lot of trouble. Why not for this man, who did a lot of good, a little further down in our national governmental hierarchy?

It seems like an ending of something besides Senator Kennedy, his death. It feels like something larger and longer has come to some kind of sonorous conclusion, some kind of end of childhood. We became the grownups too, long ago. But we never really believed we were quite the same kind of grownups, with our idealism and our counterculture idiosyncracies. Somehow we thought we'd go on forever, or if not, that we'd at least go down nobly in defeat, in the pursuit of our valiant goals, in mortal combat with the terrible enemy.

This death of attrition was the last thing on our minds. It never occurred to us that not only would we age and weaken, but that our ideals, too, might wither on the vine, the fruit of our visions hanging too high. We were sure our history would never be forgotten. Our war, too, would be the last one.

It hangs heavy on many of us, this failure of humility. The best of us, though, do what they can, and do not overly indulge in such self-recrimination. I expect Ted Kennedy qualified for that description.

poem for a friend who is becoming lost

2009-08-17T18:07:00.000-07:00

My life is getting a bit better.
I hope yours is too.

I like you a lot.
I think you're a really neat person.

It worries me that some of your friends have turned into my enemies.

When I see you, visceral things kick in. They are like lightning.

Or maybe submerged thunder. But anyway, it's rough.

There were places we went, and stuff we looked at,

And when you almost fell off the mountain, and scrabbled with your feet almost without noticing,

that was pretty cool.

And then there were the times we talked about cruelty
and how bad that is
and how one should always watch out for these things, and
try to cure them,
try to prop up your sick friends,
try to make them whole again.

So, is it all over now, baby blue?
All of that?
All of this life and kindness and love and convention and pain?
All of this ripping?

You showed me once, how to cut an onion.
This way, and that, and how to parse it properly.
You taught me how to brown vegetables in the cast iron frying pan
You taught me how to cook.

I cannot cut an onion without thinking about you.

What am I to do with this?

You stole chile from me, too.
You and your tequila concoctions.
You and your chocolate and chile; you've stolen it all,
and you haven't left me much to work with
for putting it together again.

Yeah, you're friendly
when you have time
when you're not busy

You're a nice person
no question about that.
No question about that.

But there's still too much of my life
that is all about you
And how do I divorce myself from your primateur
without betraying you

You who have managed, perhaps inadvertently
to drive yourself into my gut
into my nut
into the part that grows again
when anything grows again
if anything grows again.

And yeah, sure it will
I will grow again
I don't like to whine.

But I don't want to lose you, either.
I'd like to keep at least a trace.
Something to think about in the bad mornings
Someone to remember when he was funny
When he looked at me like some kind of
beloved kid sister.

And said "We love you, Miep, but you're really weird."

Dogs I've Lost

2009-07-02T22:12:00.000-07:00

The first one was V. V was our first dog when I was a kid. V had a lot of Chihuahua in her, and I think some cocker spaniel, from the looks of her later puppies.

Not V, though. V looked like a little pig. Real Chihuahuas looked sharp next to V.

I never quite got it clear about how V got her name. Named after Queen Victoria? After Thomas Pyncheon’s book of the same name, perhaps?

This was back in the 60’s, and Mom didn’t spay V. We didn’t understand the pet overpopulation problem back then.

V was a pretty laid-back dog, though. She’d only go bolting out the front door and run off when she was in season. She did this quite reliably.

There were several rounds of puppies. One of the first included one who was born with its abdomen split open, as I recall. Now there’s an experience for kids learning the Miracle of Life from their pets giving birth. That’s pretty impressive, coming up with a mongrel pig-dog who mates randomly and has puppies with reverse spina bifida.

I have other stories like this, like with the hamsters. But that’s for another diary. Eventually we and V moved to the country, where she continued to be courted from time to time by dogs, at times much larger dogs, it being the country and all. I remember somebody commenting once that they must have had to nail her to a tree in order to do the deed.

V eventually went back to the city again, in another move, having lived a long and productive life. Meanwhile, Cindy and Harry came into my life.

Cindy was supposed to be somebody else’s dog, this involved one of those ill-fated attempts to ameliorate the pain of a child involved in a divorce. I hope that child wound up with another great dog later on down the line, because we got Cindy.

Cindy was a Newfoundland. Harry was a blond collie. Harry just showed up. I was about 14-15 and doing a lot of gardening out in the country. I’d see this dog hanging around the fringes of the woods, looking at me. I’d look at him, I’d try to approach him; he’d run off.

Eventually I stopped looking at him. After a number of weeks of this, he crept up behind me and stuck his head under my arm. We heard later that he’d run off from a settlement down the lake where he had been beaten.

He was our dog after that, along with Cindy. They would both accompany me in my nightly rounds of the domain. We had seven acres, ninety-odd feet of lake frontage, bunches of trees including some very tall ones, and all the time in the world, if not all the money.

Harry was especially assiduous about following me around, being a collie and all. There weren’t a lot of roads, but as I got more adolescent, I took to walking them. You know how that goes.

One evening, very late, I lost track of him on my way down some rural route, and in returning, found him dead on the road, struck by a car. I was doing a lot of psyches back then (though not at that moment) and this was a most seminal experience in that regard, as I instantly learned that though acid may make reality seem more real; you’re still not there yet.

This was reality.

I pulled him off to the side of the road, and ran all the way home. I don’t know how far it was; miles? Several? All of it on acid, except I wasn’t on acid.

To their everlasting credit, my mom and the other people we were living with did not guilt trip me about this; quite the reverse. I still hated myself, but at least I didn’t have help.

Cindy fared better. She hung in for years after I moved on, along with the rest of my family. Two of the other people living there stayed, and are there still. I was back in Los Angeles from the late 70’s to the mid 80’s, and then went out with a friend back to the woods in the east, where Cindy still lived.

She was old by then. Her hips were all screwed up, she was on steroids, all medded up. Newfies are big dogs and they don’t last as long as some of the smaller ones.

But she remembered me. She still loved me.

Her coat was horribly matted. I took her on as my personal chore. It never occurred to me to clip her, and in retrospect that seems a peculiar omission.

Instead I teased it all out. I worked on her like some sort of living avant garde art project, and cleaned out all her hair, made her pretty again, made her smell good again.

They still had to carry her upstairs at night, and downstairs in the morning, but at least she was pretty again.

And I know; of course they didn’t have to do that. We didn’t any of us HAVE to do any of this. But we did.

One of her people was still gardening, and he was having a lot of trouble with gophers. Cindy could barely move anymore, but she would hang around the garden. One day, he came home and there was old Cindy, next to a gopher hole, watching over a dead gopher. Amazing! She must have just waited it out. They buried the gopher in the back lot, the part we jokingly called the South Forty, the part with the decaying root cellar with the melting green glass windows.

I moved on yet again, after several months, with my friend. We heard sometime later that Cindy had died. They buried her next to the gopher.

Meanwhile, I and my friend had acquired two more dogs. There was Bob, the medium-sized black dog we got from an ad in the paper. Bob was like a Kelpie; a black border collie kinda, a really fine dog.

And there was Kinnick, who was a malamute with wolf blood. I really didn’t want a malamute with wolf blood; I wanted a shepherd/sled dog cross, but puppies were scarce those months when I was in dog-acquisition mode, and there was money, then.

The dogs got along great; my friend and I ultimately did not. He got Bob, I got Kinnick.

And then he went nuts, and Bob got lost. I got lost too, I had to give Kinnick up. I’d been living in an unimproved garage in Los Angeles so I could keep her, being on the poor side. I had to take her everywhere. I’d ride my bike down Lincoln Boulevard holding her leash. She was great with this. She learned everything she wanted to do immediately, stuff like sled dog commands.

Everything else, she pretty much ignored, though. Fortunately I’d socialized her well. I took her to work at the Co-op and she loved everyone, but I couldn’t keep her inside because of the health regs. There were too many things I couldn’t do, overall. And then she got sick, and I gave up and took her to the pound.

We walked there, the death march. Her illness wasn’t incurable. I knew they’d probably put her down, though.

I brought her in, this incredible, gorgeous person I’d learned to love, and told the people there I wanted to give up my dog.

I filled out some forms, and we put her through a little dog door in the wall of the antechamber of the dog pound. She howled, she yelled at me, complained bitterly.

Then I broke into tears, totally broke down right there in the antechamber, in front of all those people behind the counter, all those people behind their desks, all of whom looked at me, all of whom radiated emotion and caring for what I was going through. And here I’d expected them to hate me for it.

I left, and didn’t get serious about another dog until a few years back. I have a rescued border collie now (I never learn, do I?) but I can spend a lot of time with him, which is good since he is really phobic about thunder and firecrackers, etc.

They warn you about border collies, too. So far so good with Casey, though.

I wouldn’t have gotten a wolf hybrid if I’d had a better sense of how difficult they can be to work with. I’d say it was a mistake, except how can I say this wonderful person who shared my life for six years was a mistake? How can I say any of them were mistakes? They were my dogs. I’d be a different person without them; they’re part of me, always will be.

Happy Solstice!

2009-06-23T22:55:00.000-07:00

I'm a day or two late, but happy solstice. That's something I can wish everyone. Happy Beltane, happy longest (or shortest) day of the year. Do with it what you will.