When I finished las week's blog, posted it on Facebook, I turned on the news only to be greeted by the story of brenton harrison tarrant (no, I'm not gonna cap the bitch-ass punk's name!), the murderous, racist asshole pictured above. I'll tell the story fast as I can but everybody needs to read it in full. So, asshole decided that the "white" race in New Zealand and everywhere else was being screwed over by all the non-white immigrants. "white power" was taking a licking, white supremacy was getting beat to hell in the newspapers, the TV and social media. So, mister bad-ass decided to go out and kill a whole bunch of non-white immigrants. And he did. As I write this, the dead count is 49 with a whole lot of other people critically wounded. Before going on his shooting spree, punk-ass wrote a 74 page manifesto that went on and on about white supremacy this, what supremacy that, and
what a good dude POTUS Trump was for supporting white supremacy . . . something like that. Then he packed up a shit load of guns and drove off to a masque and opened fire on every non-white body in front of him. Woman, children, old men . . . dirt-bag boy didn't give a shit. When he ran out of ammo, he went back out to his truck, car, whatever he was driving, reloaded and went back to make sure he didn't miss anyone. I mean, I think that's the story. It's still a bit hazy. The local New Zealand cops are piecing it together. Oh, one thing I know he did? He video taped the whole damn thing with a mobile camera strapped to his forehead. He put it on social media. I didn't see it but my friend said it was really creepy. It looked something like a first person video game only these were real people and there was real blood being spilt. So, I'm not gonna waste much more time on this fuck-ass motherfucker except to say . . . what a little bitch he is. Tough guy, bullshit. A punk with a gun. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He did kill a lot of innocent people for some racist bullshit nonsense . . . . but he's still a punk.
Saturday, March o6, 2o19
I've reached a philosophical conclusion about politics . . . I'm not discussing it anymore because it's like eating a hole pumpkin pie in one sitting . . . it doesn't agree with my digestive system. I may not be able to give up pumpkin pie all the way, but I can certainly not eat the whole damn thing in 10 minutes without making myself sick as a . . . a pirate on a treadmill. Politics? Hmm. I do have political thoughts, people who I admire in politics and those that I really, REALLY hate. And there are those opinions posted on Facebook by my "friends" that I just get raving lunatic crazy over, and I wind-up saying something nasty to that witless friend, or if what he or she says is really, REALLY suck-ass awful I might unfriend them. BUT I'm done with that. I'll read their nut-job, often uninformed posts on politics . . . but I will not answer back . . . not even with one of the standard Facebook emojis (like, love, ha-ha, wow, sad, angry). Nope. NO comment. But I will post my political point of views on my personal posts . . . and I might answer some of the comments my words provoke . . . sometimes. The blog? No more politics on the blog other than these last two in this third week of March.
Sunday, March 17, 2o19
Well, it's just a smidgen cold outside . . . just a smidge. I went out on the bicycle today, a vest, short sleeve shirt (my Team Jesus shirt), sweat pants and my "work-a-day" tennies and I was just fine! Finally, not freezin' my buttocks off! Riding on the bike, though? A bit of a chore. Breathing to rough to go for very long, but I did feel better, and I'm sure that if I keep riding every day, my lung capacity will improve. Hey! We went to the art museum today! Haven't been there in a while. Lots to see! There was a mirror exhibit that was really interesting. Sort of played around with dimensions. There were holes in the mirrors where a person could look in . . . and it was freaking as hell to be IN the mirror room with someone who you couldn't see but for their eyes staring at you.
New Thought
Sunbeams attack my right side, setting on fire the cotton blend, which radiates the sun's warmth at a disturbing Fahrenheit. Without a command from me, my hand reaches over, grabs the blind's strings and gives them a tug, and the blinds slam shut with a deafening THUNGH!
9:o7 am
A pounding sound. A thuggish sound, brutishly smacking against the inside wall of my brain housing group. My eyes close and open then close and open . . . as if the magic of their repetition will somehow end the pain. It doesn't. If anything the pain doubles, triples . . . even stretching the tension entrapped within my neck does nothing to stop the constant banging going on behind my eye sockets. A perpetual frown invades my lips. My breath kicked to the curb . . . each intake of breath accompanied by a mousy wheezy sound. Not much can be done except bear the torture old age is inflecting on my beat down body. P.S. Happy Saint Patrick's Day!
Monday, March 18, 2o19
Always keep your mind as bright and clear as the vast sky, the highest peak, and the deepest ocean, empty of all limiting thoughts. -From
The Art of Peace by Morihei Ueshiba
I wander off my . . . path? My trail? Too often to enjoy my life journey through . . . through . . . this thing, this endless, breathing world. Thoughts, my thoughts, the thoughts of others waylay, hijack my existence . . . my journey . . . and for what? For some unexplainable need to control life. But I'm no virgin to this robbery . . . at the least, I'm a coconspirator to this theft. Because they can't force me to do anything without . . . my permission . . . and I always give it, give in to their need to destroy . . . to cripple me so my journey can no longer be walked . . . no longer a traveling dreamer.
Tuesday, March 19, 2o19
The trees that line the Energy Building parking lot on Felgar St. are beginning to bud. Well, at least one. Soon enough there will be bright white flowers sprouting everywhere and an ocean of green leaves will dance in the spring winds. Already the morning sparrows are out and about before the sun, jabbering like insane magpies about the subtle change in weather, yes, still a bit cold in the early morning air but spring is on its way . . . it's on the way.
Thursday, March 21, 2o19
Yes, I missed a day. I was very busy yesterday chasing down the Super-Duper Moon, the last SDM of 2o19 . . . they SAY! Anyway, I got David to drive me over to the Duck Pond around 6:3o pm, which was way too early according to David's "moon app." that stated not only when the moon would rise (7:3o pm) but in which direction it would rise. So, we started to just wait for an hour. I walked around the Duck Pond shooting the ducks, geese and tress, and what is left of the Duck Pond's watery body, which is really more a duck wading pond these days. So the sun started going down and David got cold and decided to head home for a second layer of clothing, and I wondered off looking for a place where I could set up my tripod and get some great pics of ol' Supie! That was a bit of a chore because there were trees in the way and a hell of a lot of phonelines in the way. I got to thinking that the best place to shoot the moon just coming up was near the road, so I headed for Brooks St. close to the railroad track and . . . found the perfect spot. The painted/animation shot was through the trees, but this one below (and a hell of a lot of his brothers) were shot just west of where Brooks meets Classen Blvd.
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