~`~

Heathcliffe,

Thank you for the edifying link, etc.

It was some time ago, I took up the space of one humane warrior sequestered for a 72 hour fast with great/good weathered Lenape men of history and stories to tell, while the 1st War Chief (A Vietnam Vet of the 3-tour Tunnel Rat ilk, and the most dangerously peaceful man I’ve ever met) spoke eloquently beside & withinside the sweat lodge. While I stitched sinew through tanned roadkill hide, making swaths into personal pouches as gifts for those whose hospitality provided solace amidst the poisoned four winds, I wasn’t merely transfixed but superglued to the scene while this red-pathed white-haired ol’ Kung Fu Guru spoke of the circles within circles, and here I knew there was no argument to be had.. as he had walked the walk and done his homework. This is much the way I feel when reading the bulk of your posts, Heathcliffe. It’s just that basic; I read what you leave here in this dbis time capsule (wish the good db could expound from time to time, but realize with earnest that it’s an awful lot to ask..considering the crap one has to take when mingling amongst the hoi polloi) and then I proceed from there. One piece, one sigh at a time.

You speak the language of a cat who’s been well-around many a few blocks, no? But not with your eyes closed.. as does my mother, sister & brother, as did too many of my aunts and uncles, grandmothers & grandfathers --- not all of them, mind you, but too many. Eyes squeezed tightly closed. ..& maybe that’s why the happenin’ two thousand dollar suit guys are so deeply embedded in fucking us all up and pissing all her glories away for sake of what? Gold? …Helicopters and private string quartets? Probably we’re just terrified and too ill-equipped to face the marching music. & such is the makeup of this “life.”

My ol’ Unce Jerry, the funniest stand-up comic I’ve ever personally known, who had us in stitches as kids and then later in the company of our own kids, finally, after much head shaking, talked me into reading a Clive Cussler novel. He said, just read one, the ol’ guy does his homework; you’ll see.. he’s passionate about the “story” he’s telling---it’s in the details, etc. So (after much kicking & scratching) I did. & so now there’s a Clive Cussler novel lying around the house all the time; and sometimes I read Clive Cussler. And now his son, Dirk, writes with him.

Try this experiment: Go into your favorite book nook; locate `Arctic Drift`, and, please, just read chapters 7 and 8…. Read the lines ..and even a little between the lines. & ..shudder, ..and grimace, ..and sigh. & understand why sometimes I’m glad my ol’ patriotic pop died back in ’85. He would have lived one hundred percent tortured in this 21st Century.

Peace & Carrots, Maya & Messy

~`~

Come from a long line o butler & servitude.

it doesn’t take an attitude, just beatitudes, Straight up as I said direct ahead cannot hum

without its curves smooth & sharp all told..