Tuesday, June 30, 2015
When you believe in things
Today's smoky sunrise with some heavy tuning.
Tonight's smoky sunset with some minor tuning.
* That you don't understand, then you suffer. Superstition ain't the way....
Posted by: Marie at 9:30 PM |
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Was in the spring
* And spring became the summer.... (Bobby Womack version of Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline.)
Posted by: Marie at 10:55 PM |
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Here it comes
* You just know the guy on the left spends hours standing in front of the mirror with no shirt on under his vest.
* It's a hot, windy Saturday afternoon in front of the Abraham Lincoln statue on the Second Street side of Illinois State Capitol Building. The tourists are milling about, taking photos, laughing, talking, pointing.
There's a beer-gutted, weed chewing, Fonzie-like character lounging alone on the steps, legs outstretched, leaning back on one elbow. Occasionally, he hurls insults at the tourists, mostly about their camera equipment, sometimes about their foreign languages.
A young woman on her wedding day pulls up with her parents in their vintage, baby blue Cadillac. The parents want to do a photo shoot at the Lincoln statue on their way to the church. The father lifts his daughter up between Lincoln's feet. The mother fluffs the skirts of her wedding dress. She sits there, ankles crossed, bored. Waiting.
The parents go back across the street to set the camera up on the tripod. They turn around to capture forever for history their beloved girl in the last moments before she's no longer theirs. But the space between Abe's feet is empty. Frantic, they look around just in time to see their daughter and the hick drive off in the Caddy. She never looked so happy.
This has been a production of the Sisterhood of Fictionalized Reality. All taxes apply. Do not flush. Void where prohibited.
* Your 19th nervous breakdown....
Posted by: Marie at 10:24 PM |
Monday, June 08, 2015
To see the evil and the good
* When you read the following article, if you decide to do so, judge not the VA crisis hotline worker, or the VA police, or the U.S. Attorney's office who decided to prosecute, or the FBI agents who swarmed this man and his wife when they were picking up their little boy. Most of all, don't judge the service member for saying the wrong thing.
Instead, judge yourself. Judge us. Judge us for banging the constant drumbeat for war and more war. Judge us for wreaking havoc in the world. Judge us for our misguided desire to heal the world's ills. Judge us for creating a whole new set of ills of our own, which most of us just ignore, if we even bother to find out about them.
* Without hiding. You must help me if you can. (Doctor my eyes, Jackson Browne.)
Posted by: Marie at 9:33 PM |
Friday, June 05, 2015
You want to be free
Posted by: Marie at 11:46 PM |