Church this morning was very good - I was explaining how the Science of Mind works - people seemed to be very pleased.
After church, we went to Sartin's for lunch and our board meeting. Meeting went well; then, we got up to leave and I sliced the snot out of my left ring finger putting my bag over my head. I bled EVERYWHERE. I don't think I've ever bled that much.
I just looked at it thinking .. uh, well .. what do you know? I had many people ministering to me (and wiping up the blood.) Now it's just inconvenient to type with.
Lined up classes that I'll be teaching at NV starting in Feburary; and immediately realized that I need to change the dates, as they will conflict with San Jac teaching.
Got home around 5:45 today - a very full day.
Had a quick conversation tonight with C, who was asking me about my Hallowe'en trip to Dallas - he started asking me about different "events" - it was a "sister say WHAT?" moment. Like, which trip to Dallas had he heard about? The trips I've taken bore no resemblance to what he'd heard. Went to Jack in the Box and picked up who? I didn't have a car! I didn't drive that entire weekend, except when I test drove the Phaeton.
So, more hostility from the leasing office. And more loud banging from upstairs. My lease is up March 6 - my time to give notice is already passed, but I could certainly have Mike F. help me nuke them and get me out. But, where to go?
My blood sugar is totally catawampus again. Blarg.
Where did I put my interview on Fox 26? I can't find the tape.
I had more profound pontificating planned for tonight, but it seems to have escaped me.
Heard from Wolfram tonight:
Wolrfram "I'm breathing again."
Divo "I guess breathing is a good thing."
Wolfram "Back to work for more auditing."
Divo "Tonight? It's 800 pm in the evening."
Wolfram "Yeah. Sigh."
Divo "You didn't hear? Lincoln freed the slaves. So, why communication all of a sudden?"
Wolfram "B told me you asked if I was okay. Busy as hell, but okay."
Divo "Ah. Actually, I asked if she'd heard from you. So, had I not triangulated with her, you would yet be silent? Nice."
No further word.
Had another conversation today that was interesting (they're all interesting, after my conversation with Lisa today.) A guy that I've had ONE date with asks me why I don't like him. Ver. 214.11 ugh. "Why am I the one who always initiates these conversations? Blah, blah." He asked me to be honest. So, after gathering my words, I told him that every conversation with him required that I either assuage his hurt feelings because I had had a phone call, or a fax, or an email that interrupted my immediate response to his hails, OR he asked me why I didn't like him or want to date him, which also required assuagement. Thus, I said, I avoid these conversations, as they're difficult, repetitive and whiney.
Wow.
He says "okay, I can accept that." And promptly begins to tell me that he's worried about me, as I'm the worst workaholic he knows. Uh .. who? Who are you speaking about? You can't follow my somewhat vague, but very clear statement should have included the obvious "I'm making excuses to deflect having to tell you that you're too difficult to spend time with." Along with the fact that the one time we did go out, I thought you were going to eat my face when we had a good night kiss. YUCK.
I've begun to notice that some of my more ... right-wing .. friends have begun to speak with a tone of resignation about the future of the Republicans, and have begun to back away from their association with these folk. It's been very subtle. I think that as this information continues to cascade out - as dots continue to be connected - it's going to get worse.
At which point, I intend to take a baseball bat to anyone who beat the crap out of me about Clinton's blowjob if they aren't crawling on the floor, begging forgiveness for the hypocrisy.
Gently, of course.
Read Philip's blog tonight. He's having a roaring time in Oz. Just totally not my speed or style. I'm glad he's having the trip of his dreams, though.
DJHJD
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Saturday, January 07, 2006
A day of rest -
Watching another season of "Angel." Such a fun show. Earlier, I watched the most insipid British, gay movie. Bleh.
Trying to create just how I'm going to do my presentation tomorrow for New Vision.
Today has totally been a day of rest. I don't think I've done a thing but screw around on the internet, read, nap, make food and throw some laundry in.
Barney, after going hog wild on the attention getting thing two days ago, has settled back down and is diong his best to be inoffensive.
I have about $1000 in software to purchase in the next two weeks. Urk. Tax software and the updated version of the mortgage software. I think I'm also going to go with the website that goes along with the mortgage software. It's reasonable.
Things upstairs have indeed been much quieter lately. I wonder if it's going to stay improved.
Carlos and Nick are silent as a tomb. Wolfram has run in the other direction. It looks as if my commitment to stay away from men for six months (including not allowing in through my front door) will be easier to keep.
I was talking to Denny the other day about the car thing; I found a V8 Phaeton in Cleveland that was cheaper (by a lot) and with much lower mileage. He asks "yes, but which car is it that is fully you when you pull up somewhere?"
Rotten bastard. After all this time of not being at ALL in my world, he pegs me with the first dart.
I'm thinking of going up there Thursday to check the car out. I think Denny would go up there with me.
He also says he has a friend at a credit union that can help me get a decent loan.
Trying to create just how I'm going to do my presentation tomorrow for New Vision.
Today has totally been a day of rest. I don't think I've done a thing but screw around on the internet, read, nap, make food and throw some laundry in.
Barney, after going hog wild on the attention getting thing two days ago, has settled back down and is diong his best to be inoffensive.
I have about $1000 in software to purchase in the next two weeks. Urk. Tax software and the updated version of the mortgage software. I think I'm also going to go with the website that goes along with the mortgage software. It's reasonable.
Things upstairs have indeed been much quieter lately. I wonder if it's going to stay improved.
Carlos and Nick are silent as a tomb. Wolfram has run in the other direction. It looks as if my commitment to stay away from men for six months (including not allowing in through my front door) will be easier to keep.
I was talking to Denny the other day about the car thing; I found a V8 Phaeton in Cleveland that was cheaper (by a lot) and with much lower mileage. He asks "yes, but which car is it that is fully you when you pull up somewhere?"
Rotten bastard. After all this time of not being at ALL in my world, he pegs me with the first dart.
I'm thinking of going up there Thursday to check the car out. I think Denny would go up there with me.
He also says he has a friend at a credit union that can help me get a decent loan.
Friday, January 06, 2006
What year is this anyway? Rollback to 1214 AD.
What Year Is This Anyway?
By Nick Turse
TomDispatch.com
Thursday 05 January 2006
Source article
What might happen to an "often cruel and treacherous" national leader who "ignored and contravened the traditional" norms at home and waged "expensive wars abroad [that] were unsuccessful"?
On June 15, 1215, just such a leader arrived at Runnymede, England and - under pressure from rebellious barons angered by his ruinous foreign wars and the fact that "to finance them he had charged excessively for royal justice, sold church offices, levied heavy aids," and appointed "advisers from outside the baronial ranks" - placed his seal on the Magna Carta. The document, which was finalized on June 19th, primarily guaranteed church rights and baronial privileges, while barring the king from exploiting feudal custom. While it may have been of limited importance to King John or his rebel nobles (as one scholar notes, "It was doomed to failure. Magna Carta lasted less than three months"), the document had a lasting impact on the rest of us, providing the very basis for the Anglo-American legal tradition.
Over the years, the Magna Carta came to be interpreted as a document that forbade taxation without representation and guaranteed trial by jury. In the US, it is seen as providing a basis for the 5th Amendment to the Bill of Rights that holds: "No person shall... be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law..." (The Magna Carta states: "No Freeman shall be taken, or imprisoned... but by lawful Judgment of his Peers, or by the Law of the Land.") While many progressive and democratic understandings of the document, popular from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, have now been dismissed as misinterpretations, the Magna Carta has one absolutely significant feature. As the website of the US National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) notes, "When King John confirmed Magna Carta with his seal, he was acknowledging the now firmly embedded concept that no man - not even the king - is above the law."
Fast forward 561 years. Says NARA, "In 1776, the Founding Fathers searched for a historical precedent for asserting their rightful liberties from King George III and the English Parliament." They found it in the Magna Carta. Fast forward another 230 years. Their war for independence long since over, Britain's former rebel colonies begin the new year of 2006 on a precipice. During the previous 365 days, they saw, among other shocking displays, their Vice President publicly campaign against Senator John McCain's anti-torture amendment and, as such, essentially offer his support for illegal torture. Then, following a failed attempt by the President to quash a New York Times story on the National Security Agency (which the paper had already suppressed for a year), the people also found out that their President had ordered unlawful spying on American citizens.
After the latter scandal became public, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales (who, in 2002 as White House counsel, penned a memo advising the President on how to circumvent the 1996 War Crimes Act) claimed that George Bush had the right to violate the 1978 Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (which makes it illegal to spy on US citizens in the United States without prior or retroactive - within 72 hours - court approval) due to his "inherent authority as commander in chief under the Constitution." This, despite the fact that in 2004 Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, writing for the court, insisted, "A state of war is not a blank check for the president when it comes to the rights of the nation's citizens." Bush himself then came out swinging, claiming that he had no need for the courts since he acted as his own agency of oversight, and his acts were legal because he "swore to uphold the laws."
The President's threatened veto of the McCain anti-torture amendment, the Vice-President's pro-torture campaign, the President's illegal spying, which he proudly claimed he had re-authorized many times over, his attempt to squelch the free press (which Thomas Jefferson once called "the only security of all" and about which he stated, "Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter"), and his own and the Attorney General's defense of all of the above, are not only the latest examples of the administration's quest to shred the US Constitution and expand already vast presidential powers past anything conceivably envisioned by the founders of the United States, but also a direct attempt to overturn nearly 800 years of Anglo-American legal precedent. In other words, the administration has launched nothing short of a bid to invalidate the guiding precepts of what the US government acknowledges to be the Ur document that inspired and provided precedent for America's founders to issue their Declaration of Independence in 1776: the Magna Carta.
In 1957, the American Bar Association erected a monument at Runnymede to "acknowledg[e] the debt American law and constitutionalism" owed to the Magna Carta. Today, the defining tenet of the American legal system is in jeopardy as the Bush administration has attempted to roll back the clock to the 13th century. Such a gambit seeks to do nothing short of shatter and effectively bury the framework for the Anglo-American legal tradition by transforming the chief executive into an unchecked despot and so plunging us into a pre-1215 world. The implications are dire. As Harold Hongju Koh, dean of the Yale Law School, observed, "If the president has commander-in-chief power to commit torture, he has the power to commit genocide, to sanction slavery, to promote apartheid, to license summary execution."
During the birth of the United States, John Adams - who also proclaimed that Britain's rule under which "The Law, and the Fact, are both to be decided by the same single Judge" was "directly repugnant to the Great Charter [Magna Carta] itself" - wrote of "a government of laws and not of men." During the Watergate crisis (to hop a couple of centuries) and just after he was fired by a President who wanted to shield his criminal acts by citing the doctrine of executive privilege, Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox warned, "Whether ours shall continue to be a government of laws and not of men is now for Congress and ultimately the American people." Just 33 years later, the question again begs answer - is this to be a nation of laws or of men? Is this to be a nation that recognizes nearly 800 years of Anglo-American legal precedent in which even the nation's chief executive is subject to the rule of law, or one that allows that leader to assume the unchecked rights of a sovereign during the Middle Ages? Are we willing to accept the Bush administration's latest rollback campaign and reset the calendar to 1214?
By Nick Turse
TomDispatch.com
Thursday 05 January 2006
Source article
What might happen to an "often cruel and treacherous" national leader who "ignored and contravened the traditional" norms at home and waged "expensive wars abroad [that] were unsuccessful"?
On June 15, 1215, just such a leader arrived at Runnymede, England and - under pressure from rebellious barons angered by his ruinous foreign wars and the fact that "to finance them he had charged excessively for royal justice, sold church offices, levied heavy aids," and appointed "advisers from outside the baronial ranks" - placed his seal on the Magna Carta. The document, which was finalized on June 19th, primarily guaranteed church rights and baronial privileges, while barring the king from exploiting feudal custom. While it may have been of limited importance to King John or his rebel nobles (as one scholar notes, "It was doomed to failure. Magna Carta lasted less than three months"), the document had a lasting impact on the rest of us, providing the very basis for the Anglo-American legal tradition.
Over the years, the Magna Carta came to be interpreted as a document that forbade taxation without representation and guaranteed trial by jury. In the US, it is seen as providing a basis for the 5th Amendment to the Bill of Rights that holds: "No person shall... be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law..." (The Magna Carta states: "No Freeman shall be taken, or imprisoned... but by lawful Judgment of his Peers, or by the Law of the Land.") While many progressive and democratic understandings of the document, popular from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, have now been dismissed as misinterpretations, the Magna Carta has one absolutely significant feature. As the website of the US National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) notes, "When King John confirmed Magna Carta with his seal, he was acknowledging the now firmly embedded concept that no man - not even the king - is above the law."
Fast forward 561 years. Says NARA, "In 1776, the Founding Fathers searched for a historical precedent for asserting their rightful liberties from King George III and the English Parliament." They found it in the Magna Carta. Fast forward another 230 years. Their war for independence long since over, Britain's former rebel colonies begin the new year of 2006 on a precipice. During the previous 365 days, they saw, among other shocking displays, their Vice President publicly campaign against Senator John McCain's anti-torture amendment and, as such, essentially offer his support for illegal torture. Then, following a failed attempt by the President to quash a New York Times story on the National Security Agency (which the paper had already suppressed for a year), the people also found out that their President had ordered unlawful spying on American citizens.
After the latter scandal became public, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales (who, in 2002 as White House counsel, penned a memo advising the President on how to circumvent the 1996 War Crimes Act) claimed that George Bush had the right to violate the 1978 Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (which makes it illegal to spy on US citizens in the United States without prior or retroactive - within 72 hours - court approval) due to his "inherent authority as commander in chief under the Constitution." This, despite the fact that in 2004 Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, writing for the court, insisted, "A state of war is not a blank check for the president when it comes to the rights of the nation's citizens." Bush himself then came out swinging, claiming that he had no need for the courts since he acted as his own agency of oversight, and his acts were legal because he "swore to uphold the laws."
The President's threatened veto of the McCain anti-torture amendment, the Vice-President's pro-torture campaign, the President's illegal spying, which he proudly claimed he had re-authorized many times over, his attempt to squelch the free press (which Thomas Jefferson once called "the only security of all" and about which he stated, "Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter"), and his own and the Attorney General's defense of all of the above, are not only the latest examples of the administration's quest to shred the US Constitution and expand already vast presidential powers past anything conceivably envisioned by the founders of the United States, but also a direct attempt to overturn nearly 800 years of Anglo-American legal precedent. In other words, the administration has launched nothing short of a bid to invalidate the guiding precepts of what the US government acknowledges to be the Ur document that inspired and provided precedent for America's founders to issue their Declaration of Independence in 1776: the Magna Carta.
In 1957, the American Bar Association erected a monument at Runnymede to "acknowledg[e] the debt American law and constitutionalism" owed to the Magna Carta. Today, the defining tenet of the American legal system is in jeopardy as the Bush administration has attempted to roll back the clock to the 13th century. Such a gambit seeks to do nothing short of shatter and effectively bury the framework for the Anglo-American legal tradition by transforming the chief executive into an unchecked despot and so plunging us into a pre-1215 world. The implications are dire. As Harold Hongju Koh, dean of the Yale Law School, observed, "If the president has commander-in-chief power to commit torture, he has the power to commit genocide, to sanction slavery, to promote apartheid, to license summary execution."
During the birth of the United States, John Adams - who also proclaimed that Britain's rule under which "The Law, and the Fact, are both to be decided by the same single Judge" was "directly repugnant to the Great Charter [Magna Carta] itself" - wrote of "a government of laws and not of men." During the Watergate crisis (to hop a couple of centuries) and just after he was fired by a President who wanted to shield his criminal acts by citing the doctrine of executive privilege, Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox warned, "Whether ours shall continue to be a government of laws and not of men is now for Congress and ultimately the American people." Just 33 years later, the question again begs answer - is this to be a nation of laws or of men? Is this to be a nation that recognizes nearly 800 years of Anglo-American legal precedent in which even the nation's chief executive is subject to the rule of law, or one that allows that leader to assume the unchecked rights of a sovereign during the Middle Ages? Are we willing to accept the Bush administration's latest rollback campaign and reset the calendar to 1214?
Pastor accused of propositioning a cop
Source article
The Rev. Lonnie Latham, an outspoken opponent of homosexuality and a national figure in the Southern Baptist Convention, was arrested Tuesday in Oklahoma City and charged with propositioning a male undercover police officer.
"I was set up," he protested while leaving jail. "I was in the area pastoring to police."
Latham was in the parking lot of the Habana Inn, an area not known for police officers but rather for male prostitutes who flag down cars, police Capt. Jeffrey Becker told the Associated Press.
Becker said Latham asked an undercover officer to join him in his hotel room for oral sex.
Police arrested the pastor and impounded his 2005 Mercedes. He was charged with a misdemeanor count of offering to engage in an act of lewdness and was released on $500 bail Wednesday afternoon.
Latham could be sentenced to a year in jail. He also faces a $2,500 fine.
Latham will also face a puzzled congregation at South Tulsa Baptist Church, where he is the senior pastor.
Latham, a member of the Southern Baptists' executive committee, has spoken out against same-sex marriage and has supported a Southern Baptist convention directive aimed at converting gays into heterosexuals. Southern Baptists are urged to befriend gays and lesbians and try to convince them that they can become heterosexual "if they accept Jesus Christ as their savior and reject their 'sinful, destructive lifestyle.' "
His church has posted a note on its Web site that reads, "We are deeply grieved to hear the news about our pastor, Lonnie Latham. Our first concerns are with Lonnie, his family, and our church family. We will be focused on doing what we can to minister to everyone in this difficult time. Our church has a great history and a great future of ministry in this community. We would appreciate your prayers."
The Southern Baptist Convention is the largest Protestant denomination in the United States.
The Rev. Robyn Murphy, a spokeswoman for Soulforce, an organization devoted to changing the hearts and minds of religious leaders who engage in anti-gay campaigns, was sympathetic to Latham.
"The anti-gay bias has now claimed another victim," Murphy said. "Now he will be ridiculed for being gay."
"What he needs some is some sanity and grace, and that's the message he should have been spreading all along," she said. "We wish him well, and we wish he didn't have to be outed in this fashion."
Matt Foreman, the executive director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, suggested that Latham's arrest was indicative of a larger pattern.
"This is just another example of people who are the most viciously homophobic and at the same time are clearly gay," he told the PlanetOut Network, adding that he suspects the same is true for many anti-gay leaders.
"It's nearly impossible to explain the irrational hatred of our opponents, other than to think they have internal conflicts about their own sexuality," Foreman concluded.
The Rev. Lonnie Latham, an outspoken opponent of homosexuality and a national figure in the Southern Baptist Convention, was arrested Tuesday in Oklahoma City and charged with propositioning a male undercover police officer.
"I was set up," he protested while leaving jail. "I was in the area pastoring to police."
Latham was in the parking lot of the Habana Inn, an area not known for police officers but rather for male prostitutes who flag down cars, police Capt. Jeffrey Becker told the Associated Press.
Becker said Latham asked an undercover officer to join him in his hotel room for oral sex.
Police arrested the pastor and impounded his 2005 Mercedes. He was charged with a misdemeanor count of offering to engage in an act of lewdness and was released on $500 bail Wednesday afternoon.
Latham could be sentenced to a year in jail. He also faces a $2,500 fine.
Latham will also face a puzzled congregation at South Tulsa Baptist Church, where he is the senior pastor.
Latham, a member of the Southern Baptists' executive committee, has spoken out against same-sex marriage and has supported a Southern Baptist convention directive aimed at converting gays into heterosexuals. Southern Baptists are urged to befriend gays and lesbians and try to convince them that they can become heterosexual "if they accept Jesus Christ as their savior and reject their 'sinful, destructive lifestyle.' "
His church has posted a note on its Web site that reads, "We are deeply grieved to hear the news about our pastor, Lonnie Latham. Our first concerns are with Lonnie, his family, and our church family. We will be focused on doing what we can to minister to everyone in this difficult time. Our church has a great history and a great future of ministry in this community. We would appreciate your prayers."
The Southern Baptist Convention is the largest Protestant denomination in the United States.
The Rev. Robyn Murphy, a spokeswoman for Soulforce, an organization devoted to changing the hearts and minds of religious leaders who engage in anti-gay campaigns, was sympathetic to Latham.
"The anti-gay bias has now claimed another victim," Murphy said. "Now he will be ridiculed for being gay."
"What he needs some is some sanity and grace, and that's the message he should have been spreading all along," she said. "We wish him well, and we wish he didn't have to be outed in this fashion."
Matt Foreman, the executive director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, suggested that Latham's arrest was indicative of a larger pattern.
"This is just another example of people who are the most viciously homophobic and at the same time are clearly gay," he told the PlanetOut Network, adding that he suspects the same is true for many anti-gay leaders.
"It's nearly impossible to explain the irrational hatred of our opponents, other than to think they have internal conflicts about their own sexuality," Foreman concluded.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Thursday, with feeling
Spent most of today with Denny, which was a nice change from my previous relationship with him. That usually made me want to puke up a lung, as he was so totally NOT into anything important to me.
We motored around, looking for a Passat W8 that was listed on eBay. The dealer had moved, left no forwarding address, their phone number was answered by a fax machine, and I couldn't log into eBay on my Treo to save my life. We went all the way down to Stafford, looking for this dealer.
After, I was talking to Lisa - she pointed out that it was NOT the car for me, as it had been such a struggle to even find it, and I wasn't successful with that. I realized - well, no, it was NOT the car I wanted - it was a compromise. The car I want is in Austin.
I spent another couple of hours tonight researching the Phaeton, pulling down the build codes, looking through the equipment/option code lists and combination choices. I need more expansion cards for my Treo; even after deleting all of the pictures of other Phaetons, I don't have room for these new pdfs.
Which leads to a whole conversation about compromise and settling for less than what we really want. That's a big clue, a HUGE clue that you cannot accept something larger for yourself. In other words, as soon as you start to think that you should settle for something less, it's a clue that you believe yourself unworthy of having what you want.
I'm really about over listening to some people's non-stop conversation about their sex lives. I've been having recurring conversations with several people that involve me listening and lobbing in occasional "uh-huhs" while they carry on about how hot, how wonderful, how .. who gives a fuck? I'm WORKING? Of course, one friend, who shall remain nameless, REPEATS everything. Over and over and over and over and over and over.
"Did I tell you how hot he was?" Yes, sixteen times. "Did I send you his picture?" Yes, and you've asked me if I received it five times.
So rarely do one of these people even ask a.) how I am, b.) if I am busy, c.) do I want to listen to them carry on about their random sexual acts and d.) have I yet opened up my wrists with a dull, rusty razor blade.
In these conversations, a consistent feature is:
Caller: "droning on"
Divo: "Uh, I have to go - I have an appointment/death squad at my door/suicide note to write."
Caller: "oh, okay .. drone, drone, drone, drone."
My weakness is in failing to interrupt these calls right off with "Hey, these are work hours and I want to focus. Call me later (like shortly after I've sawed my head off with a blunt sugar spoon, please.)" It is also in not bellowing down the horn "Hey, I'm busy and have to hang up. GOOD BYE."
Perhaps I can adopt these conversational techniques in the next few days.
We motored around, looking for a Passat W8 that was listed on eBay. The dealer had moved, left no forwarding address, their phone number was answered by a fax machine, and I couldn't log into eBay on my Treo to save my life. We went all the way down to Stafford, looking for this dealer.
After, I was talking to Lisa - she pointed out that it was NOT the car for me, as it had been such a struggle to even find it, and I wasn't successful with that. I realized - well, no, it was NOT the car I wanted - it was a compromise. The car I want is in Austin.
I spent another couple of hours tonight researching the Phaeton, pulling down the build codes, looking through the equipment/option code lists and combination choices. I need more expansion cards for my Treo; even after deleting all of the pictures of other Phaetons, I don't have room for these new pdfs.
Which leads to a whole conversation about compromise and settling for less than what we really want. That's a big clue, a HUGE clue that you cannot accept something larger for yourself. In other words, as soon as you start to think that you should settle for something less, it's a clue that you believe yourself unworthy of having what you want.
I'm really about over listening to some people's non-stop conversation about their sex lives. I've been having recurring conversations with several people that involve me listening and lobbing in occasional "uh-huhs" while they carry on about how hot, how wonderful, how .. who gives a fuck? I'm WORKING? Of course, one friend, who shall remain nameless, REPEATS everything. Over and over and over and over and over and over.
"Did I tell you how hot he was?" Yes, sixteen times. "Did I send you his picture?" Yes, and you've asked me if I received it five times.
So rarely do one of these people even ask a.) how I am, b.) if I am busy, c.) do I want to listen to them carry on about their random sexual acts and d.) have I yet opened up my wrists with a dull, rusty razor blade.
In these conversations, a consistent feature is:
Caller: "droning on"
Divo: "Uh, I have to go - I have an appointment/death squad at my door/suicide note to write."
Caller: "oh, okay .. drone, drone, drone, drone."
My weakness is in failing to interrupt these calls right off with "Hey, these are work hours and I want to focus. Call me later (like shortly after I've sawed my head off with a blunt sugar spoon, please.)" It is also in not bellowing down the horn "Hey, I'm busy and have to hang up. GOOD BYE."
Perhaps I can adopt these conversational techniques in the next few days.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Fun with Dick and Jane
I'm watching the 1977 Movie "Fun with Dick and Jane," which is a hoot. George Segal has been trying to rob businesses for hours, and he hasn't had the guts to do anything. Jane Fonda is just SO dry and sarcastic.
They're driving around in a stolen XK-R, and just robbed a motel. It's just a stitch. I had forgotten that they robbed a televangelist.
Jane Fonda is 69 years old this year. Holy cow. She just looks amazing. I had forgotten that she had the exercise videos back in the 1980s - when she was in her 40s. MIDDLE forties.
My age.
Wow.
Exchanged a few text messages today with Wolfram. He's so weird. Well, I'd have to say that he's a step forward, since he isn't looking for a handout, and he is interested in me personally. Barb says she's going to bring him to our Whores of Baghdad meeting on Friday night.
Finished the answers to one of my classes today. Tomorrow, working on another loan, and then also working on a paper for my class, and organizing another course that I have to publish.
Ordered the Fabulair initial merchandise. It should be in anytime. Also working on our parade float and entry, on the website, on photo shoots coming up, on flight attendant costumes .. lord, there's a lot to keep track of.
That, plus ramping up for tax season, working on church, trying to exercise - again, keeping everything else working. Urk.
I need to do some more self-work; blarg. Doubting that my dad will come through with his promises next week. Blah, blah.
Had my wrists, elbows and shoulders adjusted today; it was excruciating in a lovely way.
My bottle of White Star remains yet in my 'fridge, untouched. No one to drink it with. Bleh.
They're driving around in a stolen XK-R, and just robbed a motel. It's just a stitch. I had forgotten that they robbed a televangelist.
Jane Fonda is 69 years old this year. Holy cow. She just looks amazing. I had forgotten that she had the exercise videos back in the 1980s - when she was in her 40s. MIDDLE forties.
My age.
Wow.
Exchanged a few text messages today with Wolfram. He's so weird. Well, I'd have to say that he's a step forward, since he isn't looking for a handout, and he is interested in me personally. Barb says she's going to bring him to our Whores of Baghdad meeting on Friday night.
Finished the answers to one of my classes today. Tomorrow, working on another loan, and then also working on a paper for my class, and organizing another course that I have to publish.
Ordered the Fabulair initial merchandise. It should be in anytime. Also working on our parade float and entry, on the website, on photo shoots coming up, on flight attendant costumes .. lord, there's a lot to keep track of.
That, plus ramping up for tax season, working on church, trying to exercise - again, keeping everything else working. Urk.
I need to do some more self-work; blarg. Doubting that my dad will come through with his promises next week. Blah, blah.
Had my wrists, elbows and shoulders adjusted today; it was excruciating in a lovely way.
My bottle of White Star remains yet in my 'fridge, untouched. No one to drink it with. Bleh.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Monday post #2
A rather productive day. Tomorrow is jam packed with appointments, which rather suggests that I won't be getting much work work done. I hope that nothing unexpected happens tomorrow morning - I need for this loan to close, and I don't have a lot of attention to babysit it tomorrow.
This movie was much closer to the end than I was expecting. Interesting.
I've been working on Fabulair steadily, which feels VERY good. Today, I could feel that it would become full time around March or April. Without investors.
Was fiddling around on eBay tonight, and found an owner's manual for the Phaeton - so, I nabbed it. I want to go up to Austin and check out that Phaeton up there.
I'm tired, but I am not sleepy. I feel like I'm getting kind of sick, but I feel fine. Weird, weird.
Wolfram has been out of touch all day. Lovely.
Let's just get interested in a confused, married closet case who's a great kisser.
I so need to clean the corners in here. I need Joey back to touch up the paint, fix a shelf and fix some furniture. That's what I need.
That, and X10. And a CDMA repeater/extender.
This movie was much closer to the end than I was expecting. Interesting.
I've been working on Fabulair steadily, which feels VERY good. Today, I could feel that it would become full time around March or April. Without investors.
Was fiddling around on eBay tonight, and found an owner's manual for the Phaeton - so, I nabbed it. I want to go up to Austin and check out that Phaeton up there.
I'm tired, but I am not sleepy. I feel like I'm getting kind of sick, but I feel fine. Weird, weird.
Wolfram has been out of touch all day. Lovely.
Let's just get interested in a confused, married closet case who's a great kisser.
I so need to clean the corners in here. I need Joey back to touch up the paint, fix a shelf and fix some furniture. That's what I need.
That, and X10. And a CDMA repeater/extender.
The Age of e-Cash
Casey Research, Inc. c/o InvestorsInsight Publishing, Inc. 14900 Landmark Blvd, Suite #350, Dallas, Texas 75254.
(c) Casey Research, Inc. 2005
He's big, he's bad. He sidles up to you on an otherwise deserted street and growls: "Your phone or your life."
This alternate take on the highwayman's traditional choice for his victim--life vs. money--has probably not yet been uttered, at least not in this country. But it may not be far off.
Japan, as it so often does with things electronic, has taken the lead in exploring the possibilities of "e-cash" as the preferred form of retail transaction. Increasingly, that brings into play an interface between the ubiquitous cell phone and the bits and bytes that pass for a medium of monetary exchange these days.
Modern life is, to a large extent, about convenience and saving time. Take dining out, for example. You eat, you chat with your companions, you conduct a business deal, whatever. Then, at the end, you have to settle your bill. This takes time. It has to be brought to you, then you have to wait in line at the register, then you have to wait some more while your credit card is processed, or submit your PIN for a debit card, then you have to sign.
Suppose you could just get up and walk out of the restaurant, pausing only long enough to wave your cell phone at the check-out desk. In a growing number of establishments, that's exactly what you can do in Japan today.
All you need is an e-cash card or a properly equipped cell phone. These smart cards and phones feature built-in antennas and integrated circuits that allow for the transmission and receipt of electronic signals. When you swipe one of them near a compatible scanner, e-money is deducted from your account--which can be replenished with paper money at thousands of automated docking stations around the country (reverse ATMs), or over the Internet with a credit card.
What began four years ago as a time-saving alternative payment method for high-speed rail commuters has rapidly morphed into a staple of Japanese life. An estimated 15 million people (projected to reach 40 million by 2008) now use e-cash for 15.8 million transactions per month, a 100% increase over 2004. E-cash is accepted by a wide range of retailers, including convenience stores, restaurants, department stores, newsstands, electronics dealers, furniture stores, and supermarkets. There are even vending machines where a wave of the hand will net you a Coke. Many shoppers are thus able to leave home with nothing in their pockets but their cell phone.
Time savings can be significant, especially in a crowded restaurant at lunch hour or in a supermarket. One study indicates that supermarket shoppers save a minimum of 10% of their time over those who pay with cash, and even more over those who pay by credit card.
In the confident words of Makoto Yamada, an executive at bitWallet, Inc., the country's largest virtual money service, "Japan is moving toward the cashless society."
Will the concept make its way across the Pacific? That's a good question. It might seem like a no-brainer, given the speed with which Internet e-commerce has been accepted in the U.S. But there are other considerations.
For one thing, the American consumer is hooked on debt, with credit cards playing a major role. E-cash is, in a way, the opposite of a credit card. As with a debit card, you have to prepay for your purchases. Whether the domestic buyer is going to want to take a further step away from his or her "buy now, pay later" mentality remains to be seen.
Another stumbling block is philosophical. Privacy is a strongly held traditional value in the States, unlike Japan, and Americans are acutely aware that every day more and more of it is being stripped away. Many will see the rise of e-cash as just another way of letting the government/corporate complex know what you're doing and where you're doing it.
It isn't only drug dealers and burglars who benefit from the existence of cold, hard cash; it's everyone who appreciates the value of being able to conduct transactions in private, with no paper trail, when the need arises.
Could there be a way around this objection? The answer, satisfyingly, is yes. Anonymous e-cash is not just a possibility, it's here. And it's been here for a decade.
Microsoft, for instance, was issued a 1998 patent for technology that allows e-cash transactions to remain anonymous. I.e., it lets consumers spend their e-money without the bank or other repository being aware of the specifics, including user identity. Such is the general mistrust of Microsoft, however, that at the time Chris Oakes warned in Wired that "the development raised speculation about . . . whether the patent could be an effort to stymie the proliferation of anonymous cash." Oakes went on to write that "No patents in the area of anonymous micropayment are fundamental enough to make all businesses dependent upon one company's technology."
No Microsoft-type suspicions attached to DigiCash, founded in the early 1990s and the acknowledged pioneer in the field.
How DigiCash's system works is too technical to explain in depth, but it basically uses public-key cryptography (the public-private key pair system employed by PGP, for instance) to anonymize a transaction. In essence, it boils down to this: The user spends e-coins issued by his participating bank, which supplies them to him without knowing where they are going. The accepting merchant knows only that the bank stands behind the e-cash, without knowing the identity of the buyer. Each step in the process is fully encrypted and secure.
So how come we haven't heard more about this? Well, unfortunately for lovers of the concept, DigiCash filed for Chapter 11 in September of 1998, and no one else has stepped up. Hmmm, maybe Microsoft never intended to market their product after all.
This makes the future of DigiCash, or some similar form of anonymous electronic money, murky indeed. Even absent an MS conspiracy, it still requires an intricate arrangement among consumer, bank, and merchant that must be agreeable to all. But beyond that, there's the problem of government (isn't there always?). Washington loves the idea of a cashless society, provided it isn't one that comes with privacy attached; there's that misbegotten drug war to fight, y'know. Thus we can be pretty sure that anonymous e-cash transactions will be resisted by the feds, and perhaps prohibited by law.
Steven Levy envisioned a rosy future in Wired in 1994, one which will "shatter the Orwellian predictions of a Big Brother dystopia, replacing them with a world in which the ease of electronic transactions is combined with the elegant anonymity of paying in cash."
But will we ever get there? Right now, chances don't look especially good.
(c) Casey Research, Inc. 2005
He's big, he's bad. He sidles up to you on an otherwise deserted street and growls: "Your phone or your life."
This alternate take on the highwayman's traditional choice for his victim--life vs. money--has probably not yet been uttered, at least not in this country. But it may not be far off.
Japan, as it so often does with things electronic, has taken the lead in exploring the possibilities of "e-cash" as the preferred form of retail transaction. Increasingly, that brings into play an interface between the ubiquitous cell phone and the bits and bytes that pass for a medium of monetary exchange these days.
Modern life is, to a large extent, about convenience and saving time. Take dining out, for example. You eat, you chat with your companions, you conduct a business deal, whatever. Then, at the end, you have to settle your bill. This takes time. It has to be brought to you, then you have to wait in line at the register, then you have to wait some more while your credit card is processed, or submit your PIN for a debit card, then you have to sign.
Suppose you could just get up and walk out of the restaurant, pausing only long enough to wave your cell phone at the check-out desk. In a growing number of establishments, that's exactly what you can do in Japan today.
All you need is an e-cash card or a properly equipped cell phone. These smart cards and phones feature built-in antennas and integrated circuits that allow for the transmission and receipt of electronic signals. When you swipe one of them near a compatible scanner, e-money is deducted from your account--which can be replenished with paper money at thousands of automated docking stations around the country (reverse ATMs), or over the Internet with a credit card.
What began four years ago as a time-saving alternative payment method for high-speed rail commuters has rapidly morphed into a staple of Japanese life. An estimated 15 million people (projected to reach 40 million by 2008) now use e-cash for 15.8 million transactions per month, a 100% increase over 2004. E-cash is accepted by a wide range of retailers, including convenience stores, restaurants, department stores, newsstands, electronics dealers, furniture stores, and supermarkets. There are even vending machines where a wave of the hand will net you a Coke. Many shoppers are thus able to leave home with nothing in their pockets but their cell phone.
Time savings can be significant, especially in a crowded restaurant at lunch hour or in a supermarket. One study indicates that supermarket shoppers save a minimum of 10% of their time over those who pay with cash, and even more over those who pay by credit card.
In the confident words of Makoto Yamada, an executive at bitWallet, Inc., the country's largest virtual money service, "Japan is moving toward the cashless society."
Will the concept make its way across the Pacific? That's a good question. It might seem like a no-brainer, given the speed with which Internet e-commerce has been accepted in the U.S. But there are other considerations.
For one thing, the American consumer is hooked on debt, with credit cards playing a major role. E-cash is, in a way, the opposite of a credit card. As with a debit card, you have to prepay for your purchases. Whether the domestic buyer is going to want to take a further step away from his or her "buy now, pay later" mentality remains to be seen.
Another stumbling block is philosophical. Privacy is a strongly held traditional value in the States, unlike Japan, and Americans are acutely aware that every day more and more of it is being stripped away. Many will see the rise of e-cash as just another way of letting the government/corporate complex know what you're doing and where you're doing it.
It isn't only drug dealers and burglars who benefit from the existence of cold, hard cash; it's everyone who appreciates the value of being able to conduct transactions in private, with no paper trail, when the need arises.
Could there be a way around this objection? The answer, satisfyingly, is yes. Anonymous e-cash is not just a possibility, it's here. And it's been here for a decade.
Microsoft, for instance, was issued a 1998 patent for technology that allows e-cash transactions to remain anonymous. I.e., it lets consumers spend their e-money without the bank or other repository being aware of the specifics, including user identity. Such is the general mistrust of Microsoft, however, that at the time Chris Oakes warned in Wired that "the development raised speculation about . . . whether the patent could be an effort to stymie the proliferation of anonymous cash." Oakes went on to write that "No patents in the area of anonymous micropayment are fundamental enough to make all businesses dependent upon one company's technology."
No Microsoft-type suspicions attached to DigiCash, founded in the early 1990s and the acknowledged pioneer in the field.
How DigiCash's system works is too technical to explain in depth, but it basically uses public-key cryptography (the public-private key pair system employed by PGP, for instance) to anonymize a transaction. In essence, it boils down to this: The user spends e-coins issued by his participating bank, which supplies them to him without knowing where they are going. The accepting merchant knows only that the bank stands behind the e-cash, without knowing the identity of the buyer. Each step in the process is fully encrypted and secure.
So how come we haven't heard more about this? Well, unfortunately for lovers of the concept, DigiCash filed for Chapter 11 in September of 1998, and no one else has stepped up. Hmmm, maybe Microsoft never intended to market their product after all.
This makes the future of DigiCash, or some similar form of anonymous electronic money, murky indeed. Even absent an MS conspiracy, it still requires an intricate arrangement among consumer, bank, and merchant that must be agreeable to all. But beyond that, there's the problem of government (isn't there always?). Washington loves the idea of a cashless society, provided it isn't one that comes with privacy attached; there's that misbegotten drug war to fight, y'know. Thus we can be pretty sure that anonymous e-cash transactions will be resisted by the feds, and perhaps prohibited by law.
Steven Levy envisioned a rosy future in Wired in 1994, one which will "shatter the Orwellian predictions of a Big Brother dystopia, replacing them with a world in which the ease of electronic transactions is combined with the elegant anonymity of paying in cash."
But will we ever get there? Right now, chances don't look especially good.
Monday, Monday ver. 659.01
Working to clear through the detritus this morning - as I said, I need to have a manic day today.
Later, after an hours long fit of mania
Okay, I've cleared through a LOT today; have one loan done and in closing. About to work on the next one. Handed off some accounting work, worked on Fabulair some, about to do some more.
The next project is to put away all the sheet music that was sorted, and then tonight I get to INPUT the index information.
Got my Phaeton brochure in the mail today. Urk, did I overpay. At least I have one. The pdf file that I already had was far more informative.
Where's Chuck? I'm starving!
More and more stuff to do. Back to the grindstone. More tonight as I re-watch "Big Fish."
Later, after an hours long fit of mania
Okay, I've cleared through a LOT today; have one loan done and in closing. About to work on the next one. Handed off some accounting work, worked on Fabulair some, about to do some more.
The next project is to put away all the sheet music that was sorted, and then tonight I get to INPUT the index information.
Got my Phaeton brochure in the mail today. Urk, did I overpay. At least I have one. The pdf file that I already had was far more informative.
Where's Chuck? I'm starving!
More and more stuff to do. Back to the grindstone. More tonight as I re-watch "Big Fish."
Monday, January 02, 2006
Well - the Rules need to be applied
Who knows if Barbara is giving me good information? She herself may have something for Wolf, and be trying to steer me in a different direction.
But, I digress.
Barbara suggests that Wolf's assertion is that I made moves on him. Okay, I can NOT make moves faster than I can make them, and I certainly don't need drama with some guy who has baggage.
Found another house - an interesting part of town, east of downtown off of I-10. It's VERY pretty, the bedrooms are rather small, and I haven't seen a floorplan yet. It's pretty inexpensive, but the neighborhood could be less than desireable. I'm going to talk to my lender's rep and have a look at it, I think.
I love this apartment, and I love this neighborhood, but .. interesting possibilities.
Okay, time to get the lead out and crawl into bed.
But, I digress.
Barbara suggests that Wolf's assertion is that I made moves on him. Okay, I can NOT make moves faster than I can make them, and I certainly don't need drama with some guy who has baggage.
Found another house - an interesting part of town, east of downtown off of I-10. It's VERY pretty, the bedrooms are rather small, and I haven't seen a floorplan yet. It's pretty inexpensive, but the neighborhood could be less than desireable. I'm going to talk to my lender's rep and have a look at it, I think.
I love this apartment, and I love this neighborhood, but .. interesting possibilities.
Okay, time to get the lead out and crawl into bed.
Happy New-ish Year
Ah, another distraction. At the New Year's Eve party, I met this very nice and engaging young man (well, thirty) who seemed quite interested in continuing our new association. I met him out last night (with Barbara, who was the guilty party for introducing us,) and we had quite a lot of fun - frisky conversation was had, followed by some public macking, and then - he pulled completely away in his conversation and body language.
Men are so frustrating. Now, he's back to being frisky and interested in talking and getting together.
I've been trying to burn a DVD all day, and it's not working - the program keeps shutting down. Frustrating.
Walked to Barnaby's for lunch, and spotted a townhouse that's a HUD foreclosure. I inquired about it, and got a five word reply from the realtor "that property is under contract."
Biotch.
I have to call my lender friend tomorrow and ask about FHA lending standards. I had forgotten that HUD had pushed up the loan limit to something workable in the Midtown area. There is a metal townhouse on Gray that is about that same price. Still and all, I love having the meeting room here at the apartment to meet clients, without having to have them in my apartment. So, that's a benefit that saves me from having to have office space.
Urgh.
Meeting Janice tonight at Adobe - the last time we did that, I had Nick in tow. Tonight, it will be just she and I. Then, home to watch "Big Fish," which I need to send back tomorrow.
I also have to get ready for the Wednesday board meeting, urg. This lack of motivation is wiping me out. I need a manic day tomorrow. And, I need NOT to have the distraction of a new man's antics. Even though he's all corn fed and frisky.
Barney is starting to ping-pong around in the kitchen, signaling that he's detected it's time for their walk.
I've accomplished some small things, that make things more pleasant - hanging the wireless router up on the wall to generate more signal strength, moving the DSL modem away from the computer desk to improve fidelity and reduce line noise, filing, shredding, address updates, organization. Tomorrow, I have no appointments or commitments; hopefully, that will create the space to knock out a ton of work.
Men are so frustrating. Now, he's back to being frisky and interested in talking and getting together.
I've been trying to burn a DVD all day, and it's not working - the program keeps shutting down. Frustrating.
Walked to Barnaby's for lunch, and spotted a townhouse that's a HUD foreclosure. I inquired about it, and got a five word reply from the realtor "that property is under contract."
Biotch.
I have to call my lender friend tomorrow and ask about FHA lending standards. I had forgotten that HUD had pushed up the loan limit to something workable in the Midtown area. There is a metal townhouse on Gray that is about that same price. Still and all, I love having the meeting room here at the apartment to meet clients, without having to have them in my apartment. So, that's a benefit that saves me from having to have office space.
Urgh.
Meeting Janice tonight at Adobe - the last time we did that, I had Nick in tow. Tonight, it will be just she and I. Then, home to watch "Big Fish," which I need to send back tomorrow.
I also have to get ready for the Wednesday board meeting, urg. This lack of motivation is wiping me out. I need a manic day tomorrow. And, I need NOT to have the distraction of a new man's antics. Even though he's all corn fed and frisky.
Barney is starting to ping-pong around in the kitchen, signaling that he's detected it's time for their walk.
I've accomplished some small things, that make things more pleasant - hanging the wireless router up on the wall to generate more signal strength, moving the DSL modem away from the computer desk to improve fidelity and reduce line noise, filing, shredding, address updates, organization. Tomorrow, I have no appointments or commitments; hopefully, that will create the space to knock out a ton of work.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Three hundred sixty-five
The last day.
Spent part of today hanging out, part of today updating the church's website, part of the day screwing around, and part of the day reflecting.
Did some laundry, shipped out a package, did a little organizing. All in all, not the work day that I was expecting to have, but it is okay.
Things I've noticed about myself in the last few days..
First, I am sick to death of people who are utterly disengaged with the rest of the world; people who call and aren't even aware that someone else is on the call unless you utterly cease talking. People who aren't engaged in a conversation, but a monologue. Taking into account that people are mirrors for elements in our own personalities, I have to ask myself - am I someone who is utterly unaware and disinterested in the feelings and goings-on of other people? Or, am I so working to attune myself to other people that I wish to purge all of that from my psyche?
Secondly, taking my two dogs are mirrors, Barney has many of the qualities that I describe in the above paragraph. He's utterly unconcerned about anyone else than himself - everything is about him. Today, he had a banner day - he ate his food, he ate Jackie's food, he was crying and screaming by 7:30 this morning, and he peed on the kitchen floor. Me, me, me, me, me, me. Pay attention to ME dammit. He is also one who creates a mess just to get attention. That part of myself, I can see. I'm leaving it behind, though.
So, he's anxious about everything, and always getting into the way and creating a mess for someone else to clean up in order to gain attention. He feels he's been ignored or pushed away, so he uses these techniques to get attention.
I know that I've been pushing these elements of my personality out, and perhaps that's why he''s more irritating than ever.
Last night, I had another WTF dream - the third one in a week where I was doing complex, intellectual work for someone (this time, for my former uncle by marriage the insurance multi-millionaire) who decided after I did the work to not pay me and offer excuses. I woke up just ANGRY. I decided that it's time for that expectation of self to leave. In 2006, I am only going to get PAID in full, and I'm going to charge what the market will bear for my substantial skill and knowledge base.
My entire work history since law school has been filled with these events; people who need my help and then can't or won't pay; people who need help with a mortgage, and then can't get the deal done, or leave for a few dollars offered somewhere else.
Let's not even get into a conversation about the men I've found appealing.
I have been reflecting on some of the things in my life that I have been so passionate about - Continental Airlines, Jarred the bartender .. they TAKE CARE OF ME. They pay attention to me, and anticipate how to treat me well. And, I am quick to anger with companies or persons who deliver poor service or ignore me. I won't deal with them any further.
Taking again that life is a mirror, am I a person who ignored or delivers poor service? Sometimes, perhaps. I hate that in myself. I'm trying to create a business to deliver exceptional service. I'm creating a church that delivers just what people need and is attentive and free of drama and machinations that usually create division and strip away a sense of safety.
Next year - in fewer than six hours - things will go much differently. More consciousness. More effectiveness. More productivity. More of a mark on the world.
Spent part of today hanging out, part of today updating the church's website, part of the day screwing around, and part of the day reflecting.
Did some laundry, shipped out a package, did a little organizing. All in all, not the work day that I was expecting to have, but it is okay.
Things I've noticed about myself in the last few days..
First, I am sick to death of people who are utterly disengaged with the rest of the world; people who call and aren't even aware that someone else is on the call unless you utterly cease talking. People who aren't engaged in a conversation, but a monologue. Taking into account that people are mirrors for elements in our own personalities, I have to ask myself - am I someone who is utterly unaware and disinterested in the feelings and goings-on of other people? Or, am I so working to attune myself to other people that I wish to purge all of that from my psyche?
Secondly, taking my two dogs are mirrors, Barney has many of the qualities that I describe in the above paragraph. He's utterly unconcerned about anyone else than himself - everything is about him. Today, he had a banner day - he ate his food, he ate Jackie's food, he was crying and screaming by 7:30 this morning, and he peed on the kitchen floor. Me, me, me, me, me, me. Pay attention to ME dammit. He is also one who creates a mess just to get attention. That part of myself, I can see. I'm leaving it behind, though.
So, he's anxious about everything, and always getting into the way and creating a mess for someone else to clean up in order to gain attention. He feels he's been ignored or pushed away, so he uses these techniques to get attention.
I know that I've been pushing these elements of my personality out, and perhaps that's why he''s more irritating than ever.
Last night, I had another WTF dream - the third one in a week where I was doing complex, intellectual work for someone (this time, for my former uncle by marriage the insurance multi-millionaire) who decided after I did the work to not pay me and offer excuses. I woke up just ANGRY. I decided that it's time for that expectation of self to leave. In 2006, I am only going to get PAID in full, and I'm going to charge what the market will bear for my substantial skill and knowledge base.
My entire work history since law school has been filled with these events; people who need my help and then can't or won't pay; people who need help with a mortgage, and then can't get the deal done, or leave for a few dollars offered somewhere else.
Let's not even get into a conversation about the men I've found appealing.
I have been reflecting on some of the things in my life that I have been so passionate about - Continental Airlines, Jarred the bartender .. they TAKE CARE OF ME. They pay attention to me, and anticipate how to treat me well. And, I am quick to anger with companies or persons who deliver poor service or ignore me. I won't deal with them any further.
Taking again that life is a mirror, am I a person who ignored or delivers poor service? Sometimes, perhaps. I hate that in myself. I'm trying to create a business to deliver exceptional service. I'm creating a church that delivers just what people need and is attentive and free of drama and machinations that usually create division and strip away a sense of safety.
Next year - in fewer than six hours - things will go much differently. More consciousness. More effectiveness. More productivity. More of a mark on the world.
Friday, December 30, 2005
What I meant was
I had another coke addled, self inflated, non-working man working me over like the last piece of beef jerky before two hundred miles of desert, and YOU were at risk of being replaced.
It was a joke.
Of course, you thought it was about YOU. Far from it, it was intended to convey that you were the antithesis of unique; there's a parade of young men who live to enlist the aid of others to support themselves continuing their thirteen year old focus. Bus loads. Many who are much cuter, and whom are less mercinary. They're very clear - they just want cash and are willing to exchange a modicum of attention for it.
You have priced yourself out of the marketplace, as you offer nothing, deliver nothing and expect everything.
The joke is, therefore, on you.
It was a joke.
Of course, you thought it was about YOU. Far from it, it was intended to convey that you were the antithesis of unique; there's a parade of young men who live to enlist the aid of others to support themselves continuing their thirteen year old focus. Bus loads. Many who are much cuter, and whom are less mercinary. They're very clear - they just want cash and are willing to exchange a modicum of attention for it.
You have priced yourself out of the marketplace, as you offer nothing, deliver nothing and expect everything.
The joke is, therefore, on you.
The last Friday for 2005
Waiting for Mikey to come by - he's coming to meet me for a Whores of Baghdad meeting at EJ's.
Lunch with Lance today seemed strained. Don't know what's going on there.
While I was at lunch, I happened to run into John, the neighborbood mechanic - I asked him to check out my tie rod ends, since I had been told that they were in need of replacement. Uh, seems not so much. Tie rod ends are in great shape. Control arm bushings are a bit weak, but it's not a matter of them needing replacement. They're just getting old. Seems that the lack of grease fittings on modern suspension components leads to the creaking noises. It doesn't mean the parts are bad, but the noise leads car owners to think that there is a problem, which allows the repair shops to sell repairs that aren't needed.
Another piece to the puzzle.
Watching "Punch Drunk Love." Interesting movie. Very interesting.
Tomorrow will be all about getting ready for Sunday. And catching up on some personal work that needs doing.
I've been having some seriously strange dreams lately. Several that I can't write about here without offending sensibilities. But, suffice it to say that they have been WEIRD.
Heard from PJ today. He says he's coming to Houston. Whether that means he wants me to pay for the trip or not has not yet been revealed. However, as I was hanging up my dry cleaning today, I was thinking "I am SO glad that I have my apartment to myself again." Somehow, I have to keep that feeling alive going forward. Reading his blog, I wonder what that's all about. Self-promotion? Where's the profundity? Where's the content? I thought he was changing the world.
Maybe it's just one drink at a time.
This movie is REALLY weird. Unusual, though. Adam Sandler is very interesting.
Almost time to go see Jarred the non-responsive South African bartender. And to see if the boi is going to talk to me again tonight. What to wear?
Lunch with Lance today seemed strained. Don't know what's going on there.
While I was at lunch, I happened to run into John, the neighborbood mechanic - I asked him to check out my tie rod ends, since I had been told that they were in need of replacement. Uh, seems not so much. Tie rod ends are in great shape. Control arm bushings are a bit weak, but it's not a matter of them needing replacement. They're just getting old. Seems that the lack of grease fittings on modern suspension components leads to the creaking noises. It doesn't mean the parts are bad, but the noise leads car owners to think that there is a problem, which allows the repair shops to sell repairs that aren't needed.
Another piece to the puzzle.
Watching "Punch Drunk Love." Interesting movie. Very interesting.
Tomorrow will be all about getting ready for Sunday. And catching up on some personal work that needs doing.
I've been having some seriously strange dreams lately. Several that I can't write about here without offending sensibilities. But, suffice it to say that they have been WEIRD.
Heard from PJ today. He says he's coming to Houston. Whether that means he wants me to pay for the trip or not has not yet been revealed. However, as I was hanging up my dry cleaning today, I was thinking "I am SO glad that I have my apartment to myself again." Somehow, I have to keep that feeling alive going forward. Reading his blog, I wonder what that's all about. Self-promotion? Where's the profundity? Where's the content? I thought he was changing the world.
Maybe it's just one drink at a time.
This movie is REALLY weird. Unusual, though. Adam Sandler is very interesting.
Almost time to go see Jarred the non-responsive South African bartender. And to see if the boi is going to talk to me again tonight. What to wear?
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Final Thursday
Ah, a morning of car drama, followed by an afternoon of cleaning up. Ruby had a flat tire yesterday. This morning, I picked up my check, went to Sam's, bought a tire, blah, blah. Got back here, and still had hours worth of clean up and such to get done. Work? Oh, that?
Waiting for Travis the Chiropractor - I need my head rotated in the WORST way. He's called in range.
After he's done aligning the chassis, I am going to finish my movie from last night.
Only one weekend to go before it's 2006. I have a bunch of work to do this weekend. I want to start 2006 with NOTHING dragging over my shoulder. Except unpaid bills (due me) and vice-versa.
Waiting for Travis the Chiropractor - I need my head rotated in the WORST way. He's called in range.
After he's done aligning the chassis, I am going to finish my movie from last night.
Only one weekend to go before it's 2006. I have a bunch of work to do this weekend. I want to start 2006 with NOTHING dragging over my shoulder. Except unpaid bills (due me) and vice-versa.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Last Humping Day before 2006
I've had an interesting thought today - we have these behavioral and belief patterns in us that are fundamental - they define who we know ourselves to be. We (those of us who seek improvement and change) are out to root out the causes of these patterns and interrupt them, so as to produce a possibility of choice.
I've been working very hard at deep-seated and fundamental patterns about myself. In so doing, I've been bringing up deep anger and fear that I never would have guessed was there - such as the fear of someone coming into my apartment when I'm sleeping without the alarm set.
Over the last few days, my motivation - which ebbs and flows more strongly than the tides - has been utterly absent. My imagination, about business concepts, about planning, to-do lists and so on, is more productive than ever. But, in execution, I have fallen apart.
Today, I was thinking - what if this is a manner by which my fundamental self-definition can distract me from trying to further root it out? If I lay about doing little or nothing, financial crisis predictably follows in a matter of days or weeks. Success never comes. It DISTRACTS me from looking at anything deeper or as yet undiscovered.
Could this fundamental self-definition be that crafty? I think it could. To preserve itself by throwing out distractions just as the Bush administration points to terrorist boogeymen and then slams through another action to benefit their cronies suggests that it is truly threatened, this fundamental self-definition.
So, what powerful attack my self belief must be feeling to raise such a defense.
Met with Ben and his boyfriend tonight; Ben is going to help me with a visual rendering of the Fabulair flightie costume. Then, Robyn can make one for me. And then, I can have someone (William? Marc?) photographed in it. Or, I could have her make me two, and photograph both of them in it.
I have to speak the next four Sundays on the Science of Mind, and how it works. I've started to put my talk together for this Sunday.
I'm watching "Judgment at Nurenburg." FABULOUS movie.
I've been working very hard at deep-seated and fundamental patterns about myself. In so doing, I've been bringing up deep anger and fear that I never would have guessed was there - such as the fear of someone coming into my apartment when I'm sleeping without the alarm set.
Over the last few days, my motivation - which ebbs and flows more strongly than the tides - has been utterly absent. My imagination, about business concepts, about planning, to-do lists and so on, is more productive than ever. But, in execution, I have fallen apart.
Today, I was thinking - what if this is a manner by which my fundamental self-definition can distract me from trying to further root it out? If I lay about doing little or nothing, financial crisis predictably follows in a matter of days or weeks. Success never comes. It DISTRACTS me from looking at anything deeper or as yet undiscovered.
Could this fundamental self-definition be that crafty? I think it could. To preserve itself by throwing out distractions just as the Bush administration points to terrorist boogeymen and then slams through another action to benefit their cronies suggests that it is truly threatened, this fundamental self-definition.
So, what powerful attack my self belief must be feeling to raise such a defense.
Met with Ben and his boyfriend tonight; Ben is going to help me with a visual rendering of the Fabulair flightie costume. Then, Robyn can make one for me. And then, I can have someone (William? Marc?) photographed in it. Or, I could have her make me two, and photograph both of them in it.
I have to speak the next four Sundays on the Science of Mind, and how it works. I've started to put my talk together for this Sunday.
I'm watching "Judgment at Nurenburg." FABULOUS movie.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
It's finally pushed out!
After years of accumulation and nearly a year of effort, the drdivo.com website is FINALLY pushed out to the server. It's rough, to be sure, and there are lots of editing issues, but it's about 80% there!!! I'm so HAPPY!
Check it out!
If you want some REALLY fun stuff, check out the Grand Opera of the Clinton Years (written by an anonymous staffer at HGO, not by me) at this link. The complete residential history of the Casita de divo can be found there.
A great deal more content needs be written and pushed out, and a weekend of scanning pictures is coming soon, but WHOOP!
This makes me happy.
Check it out!
If you want some REALLY fun stuff, check out the Grand Opera of the Clinton Years (written by an anonymous staffer at HGO, not by me) at this link. The complete residential history of the Casita de divo can be found there.
A great deal more content needs be written and pushed out, and a weekend of scanning pictures is coming soon, but WHOOP!
This makes me happy.
A Tuesday that feels like Monday in June
It's HOT! Today, we're supposed to reach 79F; a cool front comes in tomorrow.
I'm wearing a shirt and tie today (who would have guessed?) I have more work to do this morning, and a closing that should occupy the entire afternoon.
I used the alarm this morning for the first morning since before Nick's visit over Hallowe'en.
Speaking of alarms, since Nick left (and more since Michael went to North Carolina,) I don't sleep well at night unless I arm the alarm system in the house. If I don't set it, I wake up in the middle of the night, hearing people come into the apartment. Weird.
Called the auto repair place about tie rod ends for Ruby and the missing trim piece that broke off when T and Matticia were in heat back in October. The service advisor at the auto place isn't the best about follow-up. Okay, that was polite. HE SUCKS at follow up.
Time to check on RAM for the computer here while I wait for a fax from the title company about my closing, which takes place in TWO hours. They're just trying to make me crazy, aren't they?
I'm wearing a shirt and tie today (who would have guessed?) I have more work to do this morning, and a closing that should occupy the entire afternoon.
I used the alarm this morning for the first morning since before Nick's visit over Hallowe'en.
Speaking of alarms, since Nick left (and more since Michael went to North Carolina,) I don't sleep well at night unless I arm the alarm system in the house. If I don't set it, I wake up in the middle of the night, hearing people come into the apartment. Weird.
Called the auto repair place about tie rod ends for Ruby and the missing trim piece that broke off when T and Matticia were in heat back in October. The service advisor at the auto place isn't the best about follow-up. Okay, that was polite. HE SUCKS at follow up.
Time to check on RAM for the computer here while I wait for a fax from the title company about my closing, which takes place in TWO hours. They're just trying to make me crazy, aren't they?
Monday, December 26, 2005
Monday, Monday ver .. I don't remember
So, I did get the drdivo.com website content finished! Oh my! Mikey will put it together, and later this week, we'll push it out - sucking up all of the content on the internet. WOW. It's been a long time coming.
Watched two more episodes of Angel Season One tonight - I do really love that show. I am taking a break from heavy reading; I have started reading a collection of gay male erotic fiction that's REALLY good. It has that certain quality of disconnect and disassociation that comes with some unexpected sexual interactions. I had forgotten that I had this book.
Mikey is overwhelmed with the volume of material for the website. HAH! Just wait until he learned about the complete re-write of the business website! He'll panic. I have to have that deployed by about January 20, though.
Today was rather lazier than I had originally planned. But, it was relaxing.
Talked to two different guys about self-destructive issues today - and I can't find where I put my baseball bat. They both need a knock to the head.
Tomorrow, have a BUSY morning starting with a doctor's appointment at 9:00. Then, have to close a client's loan at 1:00 p.m., and I have to make sure that his closing documents are sent out by the second lender in time for 1:00. Urk. This holiday bullshit is irritating.
My friend Elaine called me tonight and invited me to her place for New Year's Eve! How fun! That will be pleasant and low-impact. I wonder who all is coming.
Time to consider what comes next tonight ..
Watched two more episodes of Angel Season One tonight - I do really love that show. I am taking a break from heavy reading; I have started reading a collection of gay male erotic fiction that's REALLY good. It has that certain quality of disconnect and disassociation that comes with some unexpected sexual interactions. I had forgotten that I had this book.
Mikey is overwhelmed with the volume of material for the website. HAH! Just wait until he learned about the complete re-write of the business website! He'll panic. I have to have that deployed by about January 20, though.
Today was rather lazier than I had originally planned. But, it was relaxing.
Talked to two different guys about self-destructive issues today - and I can't find where I put my baseball bat. They both need a knock to the head.
Tomorrow, have a BUSY morning starting with a doctor's appointment at 9:00. Then, have to close a client's loan at 1:00 p.m., and I have to make sure that his closing documents are sent out by the second lender in time for 1:00. Urk. This holiday bullshit is irritating.
My friend Elaine called me tonight and invited me to her place for New Year's Eve! How fun! That will be pleasant and low-impact. I wonder who all is coming.
Time to consider what comes next tonight ..
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Merry Christmanukkwanza (MCMKWz)
Nearly the end of the day - dinner at Nicole's was lovely last night. She sent me home with leftovers, which I had tonight. YUMMY! She made "decaf" last night, which seems NOT to have been decaf, as I was up until about 3:30 this morning.
We had five people come to church this morning; we didn't do church, we just made coffee, ate kolaches and gossiped about Victoria Osteen. At noon, we quickly moved the television and stereo equipment around, and it's MUCH better.
Came home around 1:30, and took a big nap. Hung out this afternoon with Fabio for a while; he's a neat guy. I've never really talked with someone from Italy before.
Watching "kindertransport" about the exodus of Jewish children from Nazi Germany during 1938 and 1989.
Nick seems to be coming back in a few days. He's been on my mind today - and yesterday. He's very happy; he seems to have had a great day today. The thing that I can't get out of my mind is him using my garden tub and wanting to talk to me while he showered.
Started writing content for the drdivo website today. I'm going to finish that project tomorrow, and see if I can get Mikey to upload the project tomorrow. I also have to write a term paper, something for a mortgage course book, and my 2006 vision poster tomorrow. Busy day.
Talked to most everyone today; except for Dad. His phone was busy every time I called. Of course, he is consumed with Mary's brood occupying their home.
It was a great weekend. Peaceful, quiet, full of "me" time. The house is relatively clean, the laundry is done, only a few more things to put away here.
Dreamt about Philip this afternoon; well, dreamt of instant messaging with him. And, my sister. Dreamt about Richard and Rick two days ago - such a strange dream. I was to attend a party with them. I showed up, but they had made other plans (without informating me.) Somehow, they had taken advantage of me financially in this process, and then John (whom I used to work for) entered the dream. And more money dishonesty or dissemblement. Strange. I woke up thinking "what the HECK was that about?"
I watch this movie, about how the Germans turned on the Jews nearly IMMEDIATELY after Hitler came to power; the Jewish children were ostracized within days of his March 1933 election as chancellor. I watch this, and I think "that could happen here in the US so easily."
I have so many projects to complete - marks to make. This week I intend to timeline those projects out, and create the component breakdowns so I can get started in an organized manner. Some of it will require assistance. Some of it will just require a great deal of organized effort.
Me and my to do list are going to be even more close than we were before.
We had five people come to church this morning; we didn't do church, we just made coffee, ate kolaches and gossiped about Victoria Osteen. At noon, we quickly moved the television and stereo equipment around, and it's MUCH better.
Came home around 1:30, and took a big nap. Hung out this afternoon with Fabio for a while; he's a neat guy. I've never really talked with someone from Italy before.
Watching "kindertransport" about the exodus of Jewish children from Nazi Germany during 1938 and 1989.
Nick seems to be coming back in a few days. He's been on my mind today - and yesterday. He's very happy; he seems to have had a great day today. The thing that I can't get out of my mind is him using my garden tub and wanting to talk to me while he showered.
Started writing content for the drdivo website today. I'm going to finish that project tomorrow, and see if I can get Mikey to upload the project tomorrow. I also have to write a term paper, something for a mortgage course book, and my 2006 vision poster tomorrow. Busy day.
Talked to most everyone today; except for Dad. His phone was busy every time I called. Of course, he is consumed with Mary's brood occupying their home.
It was a great weekend. Peaceful, quiet, full of "me" time. The house is relatively clean, the laundry is done, only a few more things to put away here.
Dreamt about Philip this afternoon; well, dreamt of instant messaging with him. And, my sister. Dreamt about Richard and Rick two days ago - such a strange dream. I was to attend a party with them. I showed up, but they had made other plans (without informating me.) Somehow, they had taken advantage of me financially in this process, and then John (whom I used to work for) entered the dream. And more money dishonesty or dissemblement. Strange. I woke up thinking "what the HECK was that about?"
I watch this movie, about how the Germans turned on the Jews nearly IMMEDIATELY after Hitler came to power; the Jewish children were ostracized within days of his March 1933 election as chancellor. I watch this, and I think "that could happen here in the US so easily."
I have so many projects to complete - marks to make. This week I intend to timeline those projects out, and create the component breakdowns so I can get started in an organized manner. Some of it will require assistance. Some of it will just require a great deal of organized effort.
Me and my to do list are going to be even more close than we were before.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
'Twas the Night Before Christmas ...
And I don't have a thing to say. I had thought to write a witty takeoff on the Christmas Story - the dogs upstairs were quiet, the bois were all kicked out and living off of someone else. But, I'm tired and it's not worth the effort.
More tomorrow.
More tomorrow.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
The last business day before Christmas
'cause tomorrow, the 23rd, I can promise NOTHING is getting done.
Mikey now asks each new communication how the bitterness factor is going. Interesting that the more I reject situations that aren't fair to me, I'm being more and more bitter.
Of course, I know he just likes needling me about being bitter. His "older, eviler, bitterer sister."
Today, if one recalls, I'm to do something "unusual." So I think that's going to be me logging off the computer, reading a book and putting up the Christmas tree. Staying away from the computer for at least six hours. Or until tomorrow.
Mikey now asks each new communication how the bitterness factor is going. Interesting that the more I reject situations that aren't fair to me, I'm being more and more bitter.
Of course, I know he just likes needling me about being bitter. His "older, eviler, bitterer sister."
Today, if one recalls, I'm to do something "unusual." So I think that's going to be me logging off the computer, reading a book and putting up the Christmas tree. Staying away from the computer for at least six hours. Or until tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Hump Day Madness
What a weird day. Everything seemed to start out okay; it went along just fine, and then ended with a bang.
At least I have business closing between now and the 10th of January. That's going to help. I was reading an email that I received today, which postulated "why DO you need investors?" Well, why do I?
I don't think that, necessarily, I do.
A day without Lisa ... is a day without having your ass kicked to a new plane.
Lunch with Kurtis, his mother has a brain tumor AND lung cancer. He's either very well adjusted to the concept, or he's even better at concealing his feelings than I've known him to be over the last 24 years, and that's pretty damned impressive. He'll be spending more and more of his time here over the next couple of weeks. It was nice to see him at least. While at lunch with him, the guy from the VW store called; the PERFECT perfect Phaeton is still available for sale. He found the one I saw online in Austin, and we talked about it. He's a nice guy, and very excited. I can hear in his voice that he knows that this is going to happen.
The next two days - two and a half days - should be VERY interesting. Most of my friends, live or memorex, will be gone. I have all that time to focus on .. well, whatever. Cleaning? I don't think that's really needed. More organizing? I have to work on my business website, and see about getting some brochures published in advance of tax season. I also need to order more business cards. Perhaps I should make a list, and check it twice. I have the possibility of outlining some more mortgage courses, I suppose. I've been putting that off, and that would be an outstanding Christmas gift to myself.
I submitted a number of writing job bids online today; I'm expecting to get hired for at least two of them for some reason. That will make January both busy and financially even happier.
My Chinese fortune cookie today at lunch with Kurtis said "do something unusual tomorrow." That would be .. Thursday. So, what? I've done enough crazy shit before to make headlines. Date a woman? Done that, but it would be quite unusual. Meditate all day? Now THAT would be unusual. Perhaps after I fax off my mortgage file updates in the morning, I could do that. All day. Hm. Journal, meditate, tap, journal, meditate, tap.
I don't know why I've been such a night owl lately. It usually goes hand in hand with the blood sugar thing. I'm just wide awake, and not tired to speak of, but during the day, I'm dragging ass, big time.
Watched another crapola movie tonight. This was with Dennis Quaid, airplane crashes in desert, stranded survivors piece together smaller plane-lette from crashed airplane. Bad acting, bad script, bad, bad, bad. Cool special effects. Wildly unbelieveable airplane crash sequence. Mikey kept telling me to cut it off.
It's December, and my air conditioner is running at 01:00 a.m. It hasn't run all day, though, I don't think. This is the time of year when the air is so stale inside that it hardly moves. I opened the windows today, which was nice.
Talked to Chuck tonight for a while; he seems to have been offered a job back in Houston doing what he does best for a downtown firm at a decent rate of pay. That's really great. He's not going to be home in time for Christmas, and it looks as if he's not going to be in time to work with me on Fabulair either.
Why should I be surprised that I'm on my own vis a vis Fabulair, huh? I have to give that line of thinking up. I've now asked TWO different friends to work on the calendar, and given them a pay rate, and asked them to track their hours - and .. drum roll, please .. NOTHING. Perhaps I'll just need to start doing THAT too.
How does anything get done in this country? I guess if you can't put the fear of withholding wages from someone, that results in a fear of being homeless, toothless and alone, they won't do a damned thing.
If I could figure out a way that someone could meet cute guys and randomly get LAID researching my calendar for me, I'm sure it would be populated out the wazoo by now.
Just stupid.
Okay, it's almost that time. I guess I'll pry the contacts out, shut down, push this content out and hit the sack.
At least I have business closing between now and the 10th of January. That's going to help. I was reading an email that I received today, which postulated "why DO you need investors?" Well, why do I?
I don't think that, necessarily, I do.
A day without Lisa ... is a day without having your ass kicked to a new plane.
Lunch with Kurtis, his mother has a brain tumor AND lung cancer. He's either very well adjusted to the concept, or he's even better at concealing his feelings than I've known him to be over the last 24 years, and that's pretty damned impressive. He'll be spending more and more of his time here over the next couple of weeks. It was nice to see him at least. While at lunch with him, the guy from the VW store called; the PERFECT perfect Phaeton is still available for sale. He found the one I saw online in Austin, and we talked about it. He's a nice guy, and very excited. I can hear in his voice that he knows that this is going to happen.
The next two days - two and a half days - should be VERY interesting. Most of my friends, live or memorex, will be gone. I have all that time to focus on .. well, whatever. Cleaning? I don't think that's really needed. More organizing? I have to work on my business website, and see about getting some brochures published in advance of tax season. I also need to order more business cards. Perhaps I should make a list, and check it twice. I have the possibility of outlining some more mortgage courses, I suppose. I've been putting that off, and that would be an outstanding Christmas gift to myself.
I submitted a number of writing job bids online today; I'm expecting to get hired for at least two of them for some reason. That will make January both busy and financially even happier.
My Chinese fortune cookie today at lunch with Kurtis said "do something unusual tomorrow." That would be .. Thursday. So, what? I've done enough crazy shit before to make headlines. Date a woman? Done that, but it would be quite unusual. Meditate all day? Now THAT would be unusual. Perhaps after I fax off my mortgage file updates in the morning, I could do that. All day. Hm. Journal, meditate, tap, journal, meditate, tap.
I don't know why I've been such a night owl lately. It usually goes hand in hand with the blood sugar thing. I'm just wide awake, and not tired to speak of, but during the day, I'm dragging ass, big time.
Watched another crapola movie tonight. This was with Dennis Quaid, airplane crashes in desert, stranded survivors piece together smaller plane-lette from crashed airplane. Bad acting, bad script, bad, bad, bad. Cool special effects. Wildly unbelieveable airplane crash sequence. Mikey kept telling me to cut it off.
It's December, and my air conditioner is running at 01:00 a.m. It hasn't run all day, though, I don't think. This is the time of year when the air is so stale inside that it hardly moves. I opened the windows today, which was nice.
Talked to Chuck tonight for a while; he seems to have been offered a job back in Houston doing what he does best for a downtown firm at a decent rate of pay. That's really great. He's not going to be home in time for Christmas, and it looks as if he's not going to be in time to work with me on Fabulair either.
Why should I be surprised that I'm on my own vis a vis Fabulair, huh? I have to give that line of thinking up. I've now asked TWO different friends to work on the calendar, and given them a pay rate, and asked them to track their hours - and .. drum roll, please .. NOTHING. Perhaps I'll just need to start doing THAT too.
How does anything get done in this country? I guess if you can't put the fear of withholding wages from someone, that results in a fear of being homeless, toothless and alone, they won't do a damned thing.
If I could figure out a way that someone could meet cute guys and randomly get LAID researching my calendar for me, I'm sure it would be populated out the wazoo by now.
Just stupid.
Okay, it's almost that time. I guess I'll pry the contacts out, shut down, push this content out and hit the sack.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Tuesday evening
Watching the movie "The Professional." Another crappy movie. Seems to be a theme this week. It's almost over, and then I'm going to watch Angel Season One, disc one. Again.
At least that's something I know I'll like.
Guy came over for divoghetti tonight. That was pleasant enough. I still have to clean the kitchen. And dust. Sometime.
I think I'll have some more nog.
Working up some special Christmas prezzies for the "boys" that were in my life during 2005. heh heh heh.
At least that's something I know I'll like.
Guy came over for divoghetti tonight. That was pleasant enough. I still have to clean the kitchen. And dust. Sometime.
I think I'll have some more nog.
Working up some special Christmas prezzies for the "boys" that were in my life during 2005. heh heh heh.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Monday late
So. The movie "Alexander." Colin Ferell's butt. Who cares? Lots of bizarre plot hither and thithers, weird stuff, lots of gore - sort of like "Troy" with Colin Ferell's butt in it. And longer. And less relevant.
Chuck is suddenly single.
The upstairs neighbors were at it again tonight while I was watching "Alexander." The whole apartment rattles.
Reading about EFT and losing weight.
Nary a peep out of the twisted sisters; they must have kissed and made up again. Ver. 615.01.
Almost time to hit the sack.
Chuck is suddenly single.
The upstairs neighbors were at it again tonight while I was watching "Alexander." The whole apartment rattles.
Reading about EFT and losing weight.
Nary a peep out of the twisted sisters; they must have kissed and made up again. Ver. 615.01.
Almost time to hit the sack.
Monday, Monday ver. 654.01
Just haven't felt much like blogging lately. Lots going on in my head. Today, I'm cleaning up around the apartment and waiting. Waiting for title commitments, underwriting responses, surveys, appraisals, whatever.
Have a few more packages to put together and mail out. I should jet over to the post office and pick up a flat rate box; maybe I'll do that later when I have dinner with Guy.
I think tonight's movie feature will be "Alexander." Two hours - ish.
Time to do some more file work and put more things in boxes. I think that my next trick will be to put up all the sheet music in some semblance of order.
Have a few more packages to put together and mail out. I should jet over to the post office and pick up a flat rate box; maybe I'll do that later when I have dinner with Guy.
I think tonight's movie feature will be "Alexander." Two hours - ish.
Time to do some more file work and put more things in boxes. I think that my next trick will be to put up all the sheet music in some semblance of order.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Im not a babysitter
I’m not a babysitter
Yep. I’m not. That’s what the apartment manager said to me. That I needed to work things out with the upstairs neighbors who make so much noise that one cannot carry on a conversation here in my unit. She basically said that she doesn’t want to hear about this any further unless I can invite her into my unit to hear the noise herself.
There being more than one way to skin a cat; I’ll politely whip the shit out of them using their lease agreement, community rules, and sound recordings. We have the technology; we have the training.
I’m about to start baking a pumpkin pie for tonight’s NV party. I’m waiting for documents to send in to the lender on a file that’s scheduled to close on Tuesday – since the seller is out of town, and we can’t get a survey or anything out of them, it will be Wednesday, probably.
Trying to move two other files forward also – I have to do some work for them. Can’t get CP to call me back to save my life. Rather like calling Santa’s hotline – there’s a placebo effect, but no results.
Just found out that a lender sent me a loan approval on October 24 – and it went to CP’s fax number, but he NEVER told me about it – just lamented that nothing had happened with that loan.
A bit later
Baking pumpkin pies for tonight’s party – it smells fabulous. It looks perfect. Two hours to cool, and then around 6:30, we’ll be off for the party.
I think I’ll defer working on these two loans until tomorrow morning. Nothing is going to happen with them until Monday morning, anyway.
Mikey came over at lunch and brought me a christmas prezzie – a tea light potpourri burner. Funny, I had been WANTING one. Having this in the den scents the whole house. I love my lamberger, but it’s so DAMNED expensive to feed, and it’s fussy. If I don’t burn it all the time, it gets cranky.
So, this is great. Mikey’s going to also help me figure out the software/hardware necessary to get three months’ free rent out of these people for the noise upstairs. I need to ask E about a software package though – he’ll know just what to find.
I think a nap is in order here. And more tapping. Where’s Lisa when I need her?
Yep. I’m not. That’s what the apartment manager said to me. That I needed to work things out with the upstairs neighbors who make so much noise that one cannot carry on a conversation here in my unit. She basically said that she doesn’t want to hear about this any further unless I can invite her into my unit to hear the noise herself.
There being more than one way to skin a cat; I’ll politely whip the shit out of them using their lease agreement, community rules, and sound recordings. We have the technology; we have the training.
I’m about to start baking a pumpkin pie for tonight’s NV party. I’m waiting for documents to send in to the lender on a file that’s scheduled to close on Tuesday – since the seller is out of town, and we can’t get a survey or anything out of them, it will be Wednesday, probably.
Trying to move two other files forward also – I have to do some work for them. Can’t get CP to call me back to save my life. Rather like calling Santa’s hotline – there’s a placebo effect, but no results.
Just found out that a lender sent me a loan approval on October 24 – and it went to CP’s fax number, but he NEVER told me about it – just lamented that nothing had happened with that loan.
A bit later
Baking pumpkin pies for tonight’s party – it smells fabulous. It looks perfect. Two hours to cool, and then around 6:30, we’ll be off for the party.
I think I’ll defer working on these two loans until tomorrow morning. Nothing is going to happen with them until Monday morning, anyway.
Mikey came over at lunch and brought me a christmas prezzie – a tea light potpourri burner. Funny, I had been WANTING one. Having this in the den scents the whole house. I love my lamberger, but it’s so DAMNED expensive to feed, and it’s fussy. If I don’t burn it all the time, it gets cranky.
So, this is great. Mikey’s going to also help me figure out the software/hardware necessary to get three months’ free rent out of these people for the noise upstairs. I need to ask E about a software package though – he’ll know just what to find.
I think a nap is in order here. And more tapping. Where’s Lisa when I need her?
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Hump Day Thundershowers
Whew! Another 36 cards mailed out today, plus my regular work. Had BuhZilly and Guy over tonight to watch a DVD and have pizza.
I think it's pretty clear to me that I need to stay put for Christmas. I have one more loan to crank out this year, and if I leave, that won't happen. Also, there's the cost - another $1,000. And, everything else.
Tomorrow, there are only fifteen more days of this year. Amazing.
I was talking with Chuck today about getting a townhouse together in a few weeks, but then, I look around this apartment (especially now that I'm the only one with a key) and I think - I really love this place. (sigh)
Nary a word out of Michael the Hooker - apparently, he read my email telling him that I was through with him after learning that he'd been taking my car without permission.
Dinner with Tom last night was VERY nice. We had a very good time just hanging out and talking. Then, he went home to his house, and I hung out and went to bed. I'm going to ask him out again tomorrow when I see him.
I have to be up and out early tomorrow; have to go to the comptroller's office, finish some loan documents, order closing papers and a survey, and do my homework and take-home test for tomorrow night's class. Oof. What a day.
Okay, time to be sleepy, even though I'm not.
I think it's pretty clear to me that I need to stay put for Christmas. I have one more loan to crank out this year, and if I leave, that won't happen. Also, there's the cost - another $1,000. And, everything else.
Tomorrow, there are only fifteen more days of this year. Amazing.
I was talking with Chuck today about getting a townhouse together in a few weeks, but then, I look around this apartment (especially now that I'm the only one with a key) and I think - I really love this place. (sigh)
Nary a word out of Michael the Hooker - apparently, he read my email telling him that I was through with him after learning that he'd been taking my car without permission.
Dinner with Tom last night was VERY nice. We had a very good time just hanging out and talking. Then, he went home to his house, and I hung out and went to bed. I'm going to ask him out again tomorrow when I see him.
I have to be up and out early tomorrow; have to go to the comptroller's office, finish some loan documents, order closing papers and a survey, and do my homework and take-home test for tomorrow night's class. Oof. What a day.
Okay, time to be sleepy, even though I'm not.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Things Im done with
Things I’m done with (no, really)
Adult males that require someone to pick up after them
Yeah, go ahead – think I’m bitter. You can find someone else to buy your cigarettes.
Adult males that require someone to pick up after them
Adult males that cannot support themselves
Being awakened by someone so unable to focus their lives that they must pursue being validated sexually at all hours of the night
Cleaning the apartment after someone else made a mess of it
Supporting someone else’s life
Giving away any of my learned skills or knowledge without being fully compensated in advance
Listening to someone else’s anxiety or ongoing drama when they have no interest in my life and what I’m doing
Entertaining someone else’s sexual needs on their schedule only
Letting anyone through my front door that isn’t going to go right back out that door in an hour or two
Ignoring my own warning signs about people who don’t work, and have only sob stories of how they’ve been done wrong as an excuse
Anyone who wants to alter my environment to meet their preferences
Ignoring my own warning signs about people who don't work, live with their parents (especially in garages or basements), carry around a backpack and/or work behind a bar and have only sob stories of how they've been done wrong as an excuse
Being blamed for anything by someone unable to take any personal responsibility
Anyone who spends more than an hour a day online outside of their workplace
Anyone who logs into gay chats AT their workplace
Adults who watch the cartoon network when they should be looking for work
Long winded stories that defy reality - no matter how entertaining
and just to repeat: Entertaining someone else's sexual needs on their schedule only
Yeah, go ahead – think I’m bitter. You can find someone else to buy your cigarettes.
For Carlos and Nick
Gee, was this written for someone who recently lived in my apartment? Too bad his ex- on again/off again boyfriend doesn’t have balls like this.
http://www.snopes.com/embarrass/email/breakup.asp
Brad,
It would be difficult for me to be any more miserable right now, I feel like the worst person ever. First, let me start by saying that I am truly truly sorry, and I hate myself for hurting you. Of all the people in the whole entire world, you were honestly the last person that I would ever want to wrong in any way.
There is no excuse at all or anything that happened, so I won't even try other than to say all of us had WAY too much to drink, and I did a stupid thing. I can handle you being pissed at me, I absolutely deserve it, I can even handle the ugly words that were exchanged between us, what I can't handle is thinking that you see me as a different person. It is weird, I feel like I just went through a horrible break up or something.
The world looked funny yesterday, I couldn't crack a smile if you paid me, there are songs I can't listen to, and I just feel beyond crushed. I don't know if you meant everything you said to me, and I am hoping that you didn't. I know that I was wrong on many levels, but I am also hoping that this is something that we can deal with. I know it sounds totally crazy and stupid, but you have come to play such a significant role in my life, I can't imagine my days without you. It is totally strange and weird to say that, and you could say that my behavior didn't reflect that, and you would be correct. I hate feeling like you hate me, and I hate feeling like all of your friends think I am a terrible person, because I am not.
I know there is nothing I can say or do to take back what happened, but I just want you to know that fighting with you was just about the worst thing I could have ever imagined. It was right up there with one of the ugliest nights of my life, and I would give anything in the world to rewind and fix it. I am not sure if you will respond to this, part of me thinks that you won't. If not today, then maybe some other time. Also, thanks for getting my stuff together, although I think my sunglasses are still at your house, if you could keep your eyes peeled for them that would be great.
I can't even focus or work today, I can't eat, I seriously feel like it was an ugly break up, and I am hoping against hopes that it was not that and you are not done with me. Please don't cut me off, I really don't think I can handle that. I am so sorry. Elizabeth
(image placeholder)
Dear Elizabeth, Thank you for your concern. I'll be sure to file it away under "L" for "Long-winded diatribes from drunken whores I couldn't care less about". You did a stupid thing huh? No...doing long division and forgetting to carry the one is "a stupid thing"; Mixing in a red sock with a load whites is "a stupid thing"; Blowing some guy in a bathroom for 45 minutes while I sit at the bar wondering if you're taking so long because you ate too much bran that morning isn't as much a "Stupid thing" as it is grounds for permanent removal from my social calendar.
To be honest, I'm not sure if it was more amusing that you went and degraded yourself in a public toilet not once but twice in a 2 hour span, or that you seemed to think that by saying "Well, I didn't F**k him" somehow gave you a clean slate. So forgive me if I couldn't care less if the world "looked funny" to you yesterday.
Since your world revolves around blow dryers, golden retrievers, Prada Bags and Jelly Beans, I'm sure it must have been most unsettling to actually have to consider someone else's feelings for 24 hours straight. The good news for you is that my friends don't think you're a terrible person, they just think you're the average run of the mill cum-guzzling blond who commands about as much respect as your average child porn collector. I could be wrong but, it's pretty hard to respect some B&T chick who comes out to spend the night at my place even though she's seeing someone else in New jersey and winds up tongue-bathing the taint of anyone who decides 30 minutes of droning commentary on Colin Farrell's new haircut is worth putting up with for a hand job in the men's room.
The good thing about being a guy is that when I eventually bump into the young lad who finger-blasted you on top of a towel dispenser last Saturday, we'll have a shot and laugh our heads off about the time it happened. By the way, for the amount of time you claim to spend in spin class you really must be doing something wrong to sport the thunder thighs you do. Watching you parade around my bedroom in a thong was a little like watching sea lions mate. Thought you might like to know.
PS. I BCC'd about 100 people on this email.
Talk to you never,Brad
http://www.snopes.com/embarrass/email/breakup.asp
Brad,
It would be difficult for me to be any more miserable right now, I feel like the worst person ever. First, let me start by saying that I am truly truly sorry, and I hate myself for hurting you. Of all the people in the whole entire world, you were honestly the last person that I would ever want to wrong in any way.
There is no excuse at all or anything that happened, so I won't even try other than to say all of us had WAY too much to drink, and I did a stupid thing. I can handle you being pissed at me, I absolutely deserve it, I can even handle the ugly words that were exchanged between us, what I can't handle is thinking that you see me as a different person. It is weird, I feel like I just went through a horrible break up or something.
The world looked funny yesterday, I couldn't crack a smile if you paid me, there are songs I can't listen to, and I just feel beyond crushed. I don't know if you meant everything you said to me, and I am hoping that you didn't. I know that I was wrong on many levels, but I am also hoping that this is something that we can deal with. I know it sounds totally crazy and stupid, but you have come to play such a significant role in my life, I can't imagine my days without you. It is totally strange and weird to say that, and you could say that my behavior didn't reflect that, and you would be correct. I hate feeling like you hate me, and I hate feeling like all of your friends think I am a terrible person, because I am not.
I know there is nothing I can say or do to take back what happened, but I just want you to know that fighting with you was just about the worst thing I could have ever imagined. It was right up there with one of the ugliest nights of my life, and I would give anything in the world to rewind and fix it. I am not sure if you will respond to this, part of me thinks that you won't. If not today, then maybe some other time. Also, thanks for getting my stuff together, although I think my sunglasses are still at your house, if you could keep your eyes peeled for them that would be great.
I can't even focus or work today, I can't eat, I seriously feel like it was an ugly break up, and I am hoping against hopes that it was not that and you are not done with me. Please don't cut me off, I really don't think I can handle that. I am so sorry. Elizabeth
(image placeholder)
Dear Elizabeth, Thank you for your concern. I'll be sure to file it away under "L" for "Long-winded diatribes from drunken whores I couldn't care less about". You did a stupid thing huh? No...doing long division and forgetting to carry the one is "a stupid thing"; Mixing in a red sock with a load whites is "a stupid thing"; Blowing some guy in a bathroom for 45 minutes while I sit at the bar wondering if you're taking so long because you ate too much bran that morning isn't as much a "Stupid thing" as it is grounds for permanent removal from my social calendar.
To be honest, I'm not sure if it was more amusing that you went and degraded yourself in a public toilet not once but twice in a 2 hour span, or that you seemed to think that by saying "Well, I didn't F**k him" somehow gave you a clean slate. So forgive me if I couldn't care less if the world "looked funny" to you yesterday.
Since your world revolves around blow dryers, golden retrievers, Prada Bags and Jelly Beans, I'm sure it must have been most unsettling to actually have to consider someone else's feelings for 24 hours straight. The good news for you is that my friends don't think you're a terrible person, they just think you're the average run of the mill cum-guzzling blond who commands about as much respect as your average child porn collector. I could be wrong but, it's pretty hard to respect some B&T chick who comes out to spend the night at my place even though she's seeing someone else in New jersey and winds up tongue-bathing the taint of anyone who decides 30 minutes of droning commentary on Colin Farrell's new haircut is worth putting up with for a hand job in the men's room.
The good thing about being a guy is that when I eventually bump into the young lad who finger-blasted you on top of a towel dispenser last Saturday, we'll have a shot and laugh our heads off about the time it happened. By the way, for the amount of time you claim to spend in spin class you really must be doing something wrong to sport the thunder thighs you do. Watching you parade around my bedroom in a thong was a little like watching sea lions mate. Thought you might like to know.
PS. I BCC'd about 100 people on this email.
Talk to you never,Brad
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Oklahoma Farmers Advice
An Oklahoma Farmer's Advice: * Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong. * Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance. * Life is simpler when you plow around the stump. * A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor. * Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled. * Meanness don't jes' happen overnight. * Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads. * Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you. * It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge. * You cannot unsay a cruel word. * Every path has a few puddles. * When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty. * The best sermons are lived, not preached. * Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway. * Don't judge folks by their relatives. * Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer. * Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time. * Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none. * Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance. * If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'. * Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got. * The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin'. * Always drink upstream from the herd. * Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment. * Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in. * If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around. * Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.
The Nobel Lecture
The Nobel Lecture: Art, Truth and Politics By Harold Pinter The Guardian UK
Wednesday 07 December 2005
This is the text of the lecture to be given by Harold Pinter when he receives the 2005 Nobel prize for literature on Saturday. Forbidden by doctors from going to Stockholm to receive the £720,000 prize, the ailing playwright and poet has delivered his speech by video
In 1958 I wrote the following:
'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.'
I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still apply to the exploration of reality through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false?
Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it but the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search is your task. More often than not you stumble upon the truth in the dark, colliding with it or just glimpsing an image or a shape which seems to correspond to the truth, often without realising that you have done so. But the real truth is that there never is any such thing as one truth to be found in dramatic art. There are many. These truths challenge each other, recoil from each other, reflect each other, ignore each other, tease each other, are blind to each other. Sometimes you feel you have the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your fingers and is lost.
I have often been asked how my plays come about. I cannot say. Nor can I ever sum up my plays, except to say that this is what happened. That is what they said. That is what they did.
Most of the plays are engendered by a line, a word or an image. The given word is often shortly followed by the image. I shall give two examples of two lines which came right out of the blue into my head, followed by an image, followed by me.
The plays are The Homecoming and Old Times. The first line of The Homecoming is 'What have you done with the scissors?' The first line of Old Times is 'Dark.'
In each case I had no further information.
In the first case someone was obviously looking for a pair of scissors and was demanding their whereabouts of someone else he suspected had probably stolen them. But I somehow knew that the person addressed didn't give a damn about the scissors or about the questioner either, for that matter.
'Dark' I took to be a description of someone's hair, the hair of a woman, and was the answer to a question. In each case I found myself compelled to pursue the matter. This happened visually, a very slow fade, through shadow into light.
I always start a play by calling the characters A, B and C.
In the play that became The Homecoming I saw a man enter a stark room and ask his question of a younger man sitting on an ugly sofa reading a racing paper. I somehow suspected that A was a father and that B was his son, but I had no proof. This was however confirmed a short time later when B (later to become Lenny) says to A (later to become Max), 'Dad, do you mind if I change the subject? I want to ask you something. The dinner we had before, what was the name of it? What do you call it? Why don't you buy a dog? You're a dog cook. Honest. You think you're cooking for a lot of dogs.' So since B calls A 'Dad' it seemed to me reasonable to assume that they were father and son. A was also clearly the cook and his cooking did not seem to be held in high regard. Did this mean that there was no mother? I didn't know. But, as I told myself at the time, our beginnings never know our ends.
'Dark.' A large window. Evening sky. A man, A (later to become Deeley), and a woman, B (later to become Kate), sitting with drinks. 'Fat or thin?' the man asks. Who are they talking about? But I then see, standing at the window, a woman, C (later to become Anna), in another condition of light, her back to them, her hair dark.
It's a strange moment, the moment of creating characters who up to that moment have had no existence. What follows is fitful, uncertain, even hallucinatory, although sometimes it can be an unstoppable avalanche. The author's position is an odd one. In a sense he is not welcomed by the characters. The characters resist him, they are not easy to live with, they are impossible to define. You certainly can't dictate to them. To a certain extent you play a never-ending game with them, cat and mouse, blind man's buff, hide and seek. But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort.
So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time.
But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be faced, right there, on the spot.
Political theatre presents an entirely different set of problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at all cost. Objectivity is essential. The characters must be allowed to breathe their own air. The author cannot confine and constrict them to satisfy his own taste or disposition or prejudice. He must be prepared to approach them from a variety of angles, from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives, take them by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless give them the freedom to go which way they will. This does not always work. And political satire, of course, adheres to none of these precepts, in fact does precisely the opposite, which is its proper function.
In my play The Birthday Party I think I allow a whole range of options to operate in a dense forest of possibility before finally focussing on an act of subjugation.
Mountain Language pretends to no such range of operation. It remains brutal, short and ugly. But the soldiers in the play do get some fun out of it. One sometimes forgets that torturers become easily bored. They need a bit of a laugh to keep their spirits up. This has been confirmed of course by the events at Abu Ghraib in Baghdad. Mountain Language lasts only 20 minutes, but it could go on for hour after hour, on and on and on, the same pattern repeated over and over again, on and on, hour after hour.
Ashes to Ashes, on the other hand, seems to me to be taking place under water. A drowning woman, her hand reaching up through the waves, dropping down out of sight, reaching for others, but finding nobody there, either above or under the water, finding only shadows, reflections, floating; the woman a lost figure in a drowning landscape, a woman unable to escape the doom that seemed to belong only to others.
But as they died, she must die too.
Political language, as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and in the maintenance of that power. To maintain that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies, upon which we feed.
As every single person here knows, the justification for the invasion of Iraq was that Saddam Hussein possessed a highly dangerous body of weapons of mass destruction, some of which could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing about appalling devastation. We were assured that was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq had a relationship with Al Quaeda and shared responsibility for the atrocity in New York of September 11th 2001. We were assured that this was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened the security of the world. We were assured it was true. It was not true.
The truth is something entirely different. The truth is to do with how the United States understands its role in the world and how it chooses to embody it.
But before I come back to the present I would like to look at the recent past, by which I mean United States foreign policy since the end of the Second World War. I believe it is obligatory upon us to subject this period to at least some kind of even limited scrutiny, which is all that time will allow here.
Everyone knows what happened in the Soviet Union and throughout Eastern Europe during the post-war period: the systematic brutality, the widespread atrocities, the ruthless suppression of independent thought. All this has been fully documented and verified.
But my contention here is that the US crimes in the same period have only been superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged, let alone recognised as crimes at all. I believe this must be addressed and that the truth has considerable bearing on where the world stands now. Although constrained, to a certain extent, by the existence of the Soviet Union, the United States' actions throughout the world made it clear that it had concluded it had carte blanche to do what it liked.
Direct invasion of a sovereign state has never in fact been America's favoured method. In the main, it has preferred what it has described as 'low intensity conflict'. Low intensity conflict means that thousands of people die but slower than if you dropped a bomb on them in one fell swoop. It means that you infect the heart of the country, that you establish a malignant growth and watch the gangrene bloom. When the populace has been subdued - or beaten to death - the same thing - and your own friends, the military and the great corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before the camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was a commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I refer.
The tragedy of Nicaragua was a highly significant case. I choose to offer it here as a potent example of America's view of its role in the world, both then and now.
I was present at a meeting at the US embassy in London in the late 1980s.
The United States Congress was about to decide whether to give more money to the Contras in their campaign against the state of Nicaragua. I was a member of a delegation speaking on behalf of Nicaragua but the most important member of this delegation was a Father John Metcalf. The leader of the US body was Raymond Seitz (then number two to the ambassador, later ambassador himself). Father Metcalf said: 'Sir, I am in charge of a parish in the north of Nicaragua. My parishioners built a school, a health centre, a cultural centre. We have lived in peace. A few months ago a Contra force attacked the parish. They destroyed everything: the school, the health centre, the cultural centre. They raped nurses and teachers, slaughtered doctors, in the most brutal manner. They behaved like savages. Please demand that the US government withdraw its support from this shocking terrorist activity.'
Raymond Seitz had a very good reputation as a rational, responsible and highly sophisticated man. He was greatly respected in diplomatic circles. He listened, paused and then spoke with some gravity. 'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you something. In war, innocent people always suffer.' There was a frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch.
Innocent people, indeed, always suffer.
Finally somebody said: 'But in this case "innocent people" were the victims of a gruesome atrocity subsidised by your government, one among many. If Congress allows the Contras more money further atrocities of this kind will take place. Is this not the case? Is your government not therefore guilty of supporting acts of murder and destruction upon the citizens of a sovereign state?'
Seitz was imperturbable. 'I don't agree that the facts as presented support your assertions,' he said.
As we were leaving the Embassy a US aide told me that he enjoyed my plays. I did not reply.
I should remind you that at the time President Reagan made the following statement: 'The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.'
The United States supported the brutal Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua for over 40 years. The Nicaraguan people, led by the Sandinistas, overthrew this regime in 1979, a breathtaking popular revolution.
The Sandinistas weren't perfect. They possessed their fair share of arrogance and their political philosophy contained a number of contradictory elements. But they were intelligent, rational and civilised. They set out to establish a stable, decent, pluralistic society. The death penalty was abolished. Hundreds of thousands of poverty-stricken peasants were brought back from the dead. Over 100,000 families were given title to land. Two thousand schools were built. A quite remarkable literacy campaign reduced illiteracy in the country to less than one seventh. Free education was established and a free health service. Infant mortality was reduced by a third. Polio was eradicated.
The United States denounced these achievements as Marxist/Leninist subversion. In the view of the US government, a dangerous example was being set. If Nicaragua was allowed to establish basic norms of social and economic justice, if it was allowed to raise the standards of health care and education and achieve social unity and national self respect, neighbouring countries would ask the same questions and do the same things. There was of course at the time fierce resistance to the status quo in El Salvador.
I spoke earlier about 'a tapestry of lies' which surrounds us. President Reagan commonly described Nicaragua as a 'totalitarian dungeon'. This was taken generally by the media, and certainly by the British government, as accurate and fair comment. But there was in fact no record of death squads under the Sandinista government. There was no record of torture. There was no record of systematic or official military brutality. No priests were ever murdered in Nicaragua. There were in fact three priests in the government, two Jesuits and a Maryknoll missionary. The totalitarian dungeons were actually next door, in El Salvador and Guatemala. The United States had brought down the democratically elected government of Guatemala in 1954 and it is estimated that over 200,000 people had been victims of successive military dictatorships.
Six of the most distinguished Jesuits in the world were viciously murdered at the Central American University in San Salvador in 1989 by a battalion of the Alcatl regiment trained at Fort Benning, Georgia, USA. That extremely brave man Archbishop Romero was assassinated while saying mass. It is estimated that 75,000 people died. Why were they killed? They were killed because they believed a better life was possible and should be achieved. That belief immediately qualified them as communists. They died because they dared to question the status quo, the endless plateau of poverty, disease, degradation and oppression, which had been their birthright.
The United States finally brought down the Sandinista government. It took some years and considerable resistance but relentless economic persecution and 30,000 dead finally undermined the spirit of the Nicaraguan people. They were exhausted and poverty stricken once again. The casinos moved back into the country. Free health and free education were over. Big business returned with a vengeance. 'Democracy' had prevailed.
But this 'policy' was by no means restricted to Central America. It was conducted throughout the world. It was never-ending. And it is as if it never happened.
The United States supported and in many cases engendered every right wing military dictatorship in the world after the end of the Second World War. I refer to Indonesia, Greece, Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Haiti, Turkey, the Philippines, Guatemala, El Salvador, and, of course, Chile. The horror the United States inflicted upon Chile in 1973 can never be purged and can never be forgiven.
Hundreds of thousands of deaths took place throughout these countries. Did they take place? And are they in all cases attributable to US foreign policy? The answer is yes they did take place and they are attributable to American foreign policy. But you wouldn't know it.
It never happened. Nothing ever happened. Even while it was happening it wasn't happening. It didn't matter. It was of no interest. The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis.
I put to you that the United States is without doubt the greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent, scornful and ruthless it may be but it is also very clever. As a salesman it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity is self love. It's a winner. Listen to all American presidents on television say the words, 'the American people', as in the sentence, 'I say to the American people it is time to pray and to defend the rights of the American people and I ask the American people to trust their president in the action he is about to take on behalf of the American people.'
It's a scintillating stratagem. Language is actually employed to keep thought at bay. The words 'the American people' provide a truly voluptuous cushion of reassurance. You don't need to think. Just lie back on the cushion. The cushion may be suffocating your intelligence and your critical faculties but it's very comfortable. This does not apply of course to the 40 million people living below the poverty line and the 2 million men and women imprisoned in the vast gulag of prisons, which extends across the US.
The United States no longer bothers about low intensity conflict. It no longer sees any point in being reticent or even devious. It puts its cards on the table without fear or favour. It quite simply doesn't give a damn about the United Nations, international law or critical dissent, which it regards as impotent and irrelevant. It also has its own bleating little lamb tagging behind it on a lead, the pathetic and supine Great Britain.
What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very rarely employed these days - conscience? A conscience to do not only with our own acts but to do with our shared responsibility in the acts of others? Is all this dead? Look at Guantanamo Bay. Hundreds of people detained without charge for over three years, with no legal representation or due process, technically detained forever. This totally illegitimate structure is maintained in defiance of the Geneva Convention. It is not only tolerated but hardly thought about by what's called the 'international community'. This criminal outrage is being committed by a country, which declares itself to be 'the leader of the free world'. Do we think about the inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay? What does the media say about them? They pop up occasionally - a small item on page six. They have been consigned to a no man's land from which indeed they may never return. At present many are on hunger strike, being force-fed, including British residents. No niceties in these force-feeding procedures. No sedative or anaesthetic. Just a tube stuck up your nose and into your throat. You vomit blood. This is torture. What has the British Foreign Secretary said about this? Nothing. What has the British Prime Minister said about this? Nothing. Why not? Because the United States has said: to criticise our conduct in Guantanamo Bay constitutes an unfriendly act. You're either with us or against us. So Blair shuts up.
The invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law. The invasion was an arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore of the public; an act intended to consolidate American military and economic control of the Middle East masquerading - as a last resort - all other justifications having failed to justify themselves - as liberation. A formidable assertion of military force responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands and thousands of innocent people.
We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts of random murder, misery, degradation and death to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and democracy to the Middle East'.
How many people do you have to kill before you qualify to be described as a mass murderer and a war criminal? One hundred thousand? More than enough, I would have thought. Therefore it is just that Bush and Blair be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice. But Bush has been clever. He has not ratified the International Criminal Court of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier or for that matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush has warned that he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair has ratified the Court and is therefore available for prosecution. We can let the Court have his address if they're interested. It is Number 10, Downing Street, London.
Death in this context is irrelevant. Both Bush and Blair place death well away on the back burner. At least 100,000 Iraqis were killed by American bombs and missiles before the Iraq insurgency began. These people are of no moment. Their deaths don't exist. They are blank. They are not even recorded as being dead. 'We don't do body counts,' said the American general Tommy Franks.
Early in the invasion there was a photograph published on the front page of British newspapers of Tony Blair kissing the cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A grateful child,' said the caption. A few days later there was a story and photograph, on an inside page, of another four-year-old boy with no arms. His family had been blown up by a missile. He was the only survivor. 'When do I get my arms back?' he asked. The story was dropped. Well, Tony Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, nor the body of any other mutilated child, nor the body of any bloody corpse. Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're making a sincere speech on television.
The 2,000 American dead are an embarrassment. They are transported to their graves in the dark. Funerals are unobtrusive, out of harm's way. The mutilated rot in their beds, some for the rest of their lives. So the dead and the mutilated both rot, in different kinds of graves.
Here is an extract from a poem by Pablo Neruda, 'I'm Explaining a Few Things':
And one morning all that was burning, one morning the bonfires leapt out of the earth devouring human beings and from then on fire, gunpowder from then on, and from then on blood. Bandits with planes and Moors, bandits with finger-rings and duchesses, bandits with black friars spattering blessings came through the sky to kill children and the blood of children ran through the streets without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out, vipers that the vipers would abominate.
Face to face with you I have seen the blood of Spain tower like a tide to drown you in one wave of pride and knives.
Treacherous generals: see my dead house, look at broken Spain: from every house burning metal flows instead of flowers from every socket of Spain Spain emerges and from every dead child a rifle with eyes and from every crime bullets are born which will one day find the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry speak of dreams and leaves and the great volcanoes of his native land.
Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets! *
Let me make it quite clear that in quoting from Neruda's poem I am in no way comparing Republican Spain to Saddam Hussein's Iraq. I quote Neruda because nowhere in contemporary poetry have I read such a powerful visceral description of the bombing of civilians.
I have said earlier that the United States is now totally frank about putting its cards on the table. That is the case. Its official declared policy is now defined as 'full spectrum dominance'. That is not my term, it is theirs. 'Full spectrum dominance' means control of land, sea, air and space and all attendant resources.
The United States now occupies 702 military installations throughout the world in 132 countries, with the honourable exception of Sweden, of course. We don't quite know how they got there but they are there all right.
The United States possesses 8,000 active and operational nuclear warheads. Two thousand are on hair trigger alert, ready to be launched with 15 minutes warning. It is developing new systems of nuclear force, known as bunker busters. The British, ever cooperative, are intending to replace their own nuclear missile, Trident. Who, I wonder, are they aiming at? Osama bin Laden? You? Me? Joe Dokes? China? Paris? Who knows? What we do know is that this infantile insanity - the possession and threatened use of nuclear weapons - is at the heart of present American political philosophy. We must remind ourselves that the United States is on a permanent military footing and shows no sign of relaxing it.
Many thousands, if not millions, of people in the United States itself are demonstrably sickened, shamed and angered by their government's actions, but as things stand they are not a coherent political force - yet. But the anxiety, uncertainty and fear which we can see growing daily in the United States is unlikely to diminish.
I know that President Bush has many extremely competent speech writers but I would like to volunteer for the job myself. I propose the following short address which he can make on television to the nation. I see him grave, hair carefully combed, serious, winning, sincere, often beguiling, sometimes employing a wry smile, curiously attractive, a man's man.
'God is good. God is great. God is good. My God is good. Bin Laden's God is bad. His is a bad God. Saddam's God was bad, except he didn't have one. He was a barbarian. We are not barbarians. We don't chop people's heads off. We believe in freedom. So does God. I am not a barbarian. I am the democratically elected leader of a freedom-loving democracy. We are a compassionate society. We give compassionate electrocution and compassionate lethal injection. We are a great nation. I am not a dictator. He is. I am not a barbarian. He is. And he is. They all are. I possess moral authority. You see this fist? This is my moral authority. And don't you forget it.'
A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection - unless you lie - in which case of course you have constructed your own protection and, it could be argued, become a politician.
I have referred to death quite a few times this evening. I shall now quote a poem of my own called 'Death'.
Where was the dead body found? Who found the dead body? Was the dead body dead when found? How was the dead body found?
Who was the dead body?
Who was the father or daughter or brother Or uncle or sister or mother or son Of the dead and abandoned body?
Was the body dead when abandoned? Was the body abandoned? By whom had it been abandoned?
Was the dead body naked or dressed for a journey?
What made you declare the dead body dead? Did you declare the dead body dead? How well did you know the dead body? How did you know the dead body was dead?
Did you wash the dead body Did you close both its eyes Did you bury the body Did you leave it abandoned Did you kiss the dead body
When we look into a mirror we think the image that confronts us is accurate. But move a millimetre and the image changes. We are actually looking at a never-ending range of reflections. But sometimes a writer has to smash the mirror - for it is on the other side of that mirror that the truth stares at us.
I believe that despite the enormous odds which exist, unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual determination, as citizens, to define the real truth of our lives and our societies is a crucial obligation which devolves upon us all. It is in fact mandatory.
If such a determination is not embodied in our political vision we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to us - the dignity of man.
Wednesday 07 December 2005
This is the text of the lecture to be given by Harold Pinter when he receives the 2005 Nobel prize for literature on Saturday. Forbidden by doctors from going to Stockholm to receive the £720,000 prize, the ailing playwright and poet has delivered his speech by video
In 1958 I wrote the following:
'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.'
I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still apply to the exploration of reality through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false?
Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it but the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search is your task. More often than not you stumble upon the truth in the dark, colliding with it or just glimpsing an image or a shape which seems to correspond to the truth, often without realising that you have done so. But the real truth is that there never is any such thing as one truth to be found in dramatic art. There are many. These truths challenge each other, recoil from each other, reflect each other, ignore each other, tease each other, are blind to each other. Sometimes you feel you have the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your fingers and is lost.
I have often been asked how my plays come about. I cannot say. Nor can I ever sum up my plays, except to say that this is what happened. That is what they said. That is what they did.
Most of the plays are engendered by a line, a word or an image. The given word is often shortly followed by the image. I shall give two examples of two lines which came right out of the blue into my head, followed by an image, followed by me.
The plays are The Homecoming and Old Times. The first line of The Homecoming is 'What have you done with the scissors?' The first line of Old Times is 'Dark.'
In each case I had no further information.
In the first case someone was obviously looking for a pair of scissors and was demanding their whereabouts of someone else he suspected had probably stolen them. But I somehow knew that the person addressed didn't give a damn about the scissors or about the questioner either, for that matter.
'Dark' I took to be a description of someone's hair, the hair of a woman, and was the answer to a question. In each case I found myself compelled to pursue the matter. This happened visually, a very slow fade, through shadow into light.
I always start a play by calling the characters A, B and C.
In the play that became The Homecoming I saw a man enter a stark room and ask his question of a younger man sitting on an ugly sofa reading a racing paper. I somehow suspected that A was a father and that B was his son, but I had no proof. This was however confirmed a short time later when B (later to become Lenny) says to A (later to become Max), 'Dad, do you mind if I change the subject? I want to ask you something. The dinner we had before, what was the name of it? What do you call it? Why don't you buy a dog? You're a dog cook. Honest. You think you're cooking for a lot of dogs.' So since B calls A 'Dad' it seemed to me reasonable to assume that they were father and son. A was also clearly the cook and his cooking did not seem to be held in high regard. Did this mean that there was no mother? I didn't know. But, as I told myself at the time, our beginnings never know our ends.
'Dark.' A large window. Evening sky. A man, A (later to become Deeley), and a woman, B (later to become Kate), sitting with drinks. 'Fat or thin?' the man asks. Who are they talking about? But I then see, standing at the window, a woman, C (later to become Anna), in another condition of light, her back to them, her hair dark.
It's a strange moment, the moment of creating characters who up to that moment have had no existence. What follows is fitful, uncertain, even hallucinatory, although sometimes it can be an unstoppable avalanche. The author's position is an odd one. In a sense he is not welcomed by the characters. The characters resist him, they are not easy to live with, they are impossible to define. You certainly can't dictate to them. To a certain extent you play a never-ending game with them, cat and mouse, blind man's buff, hide and seek. But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort.
So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time.
But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be faced, right there, on the spot.
Political theatre presents an entirely different set of problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at all cost. Objectivity is essential. The characters must be allowed to breathe their own air. The author cannot confine and constrict them to satisfy his own taste or disposition or prejudice. He must be prepared to approach them from a variety of angles, from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives, take them by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless give them the freedom to go which way they will. This does not always work. And political satire, of course, adheres to none of these precepts, in fact does precisely the opposite, which is its proper function.
In my play The Birthday Party I think I allow a whole range of options to operate in a dense forest of possibility before finally focussing on an act of subjugation.
Mountain Language pretends to no such range of operation. It remains brutal, short and ugly. But the soldiers in the play do get some fun out of it. One sometimes forgets that torturers become easily bored. They need a bit of a laugh to keep their spirits up. This has been confirmed of course by the events at Abu Ghraib in Baghdad. Mountain Language lasts only 20 minutes, but it could go on for hour after hour, on and on and on, the same pattern repeated over and over again, on and on, hour after hour.
Ashes to Ashes, on the other hand, seems to me to be taking place under water. A drowning woman, her hand reaching up through the waves, dropping down out of sight, reaching for others, but finding nobody there, either above or under the water, finding only shadows, reflections, floating; the woman a lost figure in a drowning landscape, a woman unable to escape the doom that seemed to belong only to others.
But as they died, she must die too.
Political language, as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and in the maintenance of that power. To maintain that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies, upon which we feed.
As every single person here knows, the justification for the invasion of Iraq was that Saddam Hussein possessed a highly dangerous body of weapons of mass destruction, some of which could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing about appalling devastation. We were assured that was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq had a relationship with Al Quaeda and shared responsibility for the atrocity in New York of September 11th 2001. We were assured that this was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened the security of the world. We were assured it was true. It was not true.
The truth is something entirely different. The truth is to do with how the United States understands its role in the world and how it chooses to embody it.
But before I come back to the present I would like to look at the recent past, by which I mean United States foreign policy since the end of the Second World War. I believe it is obligatory upon us to subject this period to at least some kind of even limited scrutiny, which is all that time will allow here.
Everyone knows what happened in the Soviet Union and throughout Eastern Europe during the post-war period: the systematic brutality, the widespread atrocities, the ruthless suppression of independent thought. All this has been fully documented and verified.
But my contention here is that the US crimes in the same period have only been superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged, let alone recognised as crimes at all. I believe this must be addressed and that the truth has considerable bearing on where the world stands now. Although constrained, to a certain extent, by the existence of the Soviet Union, the United States' actions throughout the world made it clear that it had concluded it had carte blanche to do what it liked.
Direct invasion of a sovereign state has never in fact been America's favoured method. In the main, it has preferred what it has described as 'low intensity conflict'. Low intensity conflict means that thousands of people die but slower than if you dropped a bomb on them in one fell swoop. It means that you infect the heart of the country, that you establish a malignant growth and watch the gangrene bloom. When the populace has been subdued - or beaten to death - the same thing - and your own friends, the military and the great corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before the camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was a commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I refer.
The tragedy of Nicaragua was a highly significant case. I choose to offer it here as a potent example of America's view of its role in the world, both then and now.
I was present at a meeting at the US embassy in London in the late 1980s.
The United States Congress was about to decide whether to give more money to the Contras in their campaign against the state of Nicaragua. I was a member of a delegation speaking on behalf of Nicaragua but the most important member of this delegation was a Father John Metcalf. The leader of the US body was Raymond Seitz (then number two to the ambassador, later ambassador himself). Father Metcalf said: 'Sir, I am in charge of a parish in the north of Nicaragua. My parishioners built a school, a health centre, a cultural centre. We have lived in peace. A few months ago a Contra force attacked the parish. They destroyed everything: the school, the health centre, the cultural centre. They raped nurses and teachers, slaughtered doctors, in the most brutal manner. They behaved like savages. Please demand that the US government withdraw its support from this shocking terrorist activity.'
Raymond Seitz had a very good reputation as a rational, responsible and highly sophisticated man. He was greatly respected in diplomatic circles. He listened, paused and then spoke with some gravity. 'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you something. In war, innocent people always suffer.' There was a frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch.
Innocent people, indeed, always suffer.
Finally somebody said: 'But in this case "innocent people" were the victims of a gruesome atrocity subsidised by your government, one among many. If Congress allows the Contras more money further atrocities of this kind will take place. Is this not the case? Is your government not therefore guilty of supporting acts of murder and destruction upon the citizens of a sovereign state?'
Seitz was imperturbable. 'I don't agree that the facts as presented support your assertions,' he said.
As we were leaving the Embassy a US aide told me that he enjoyed my plays. I did not reply.
I should remind you that at the time President Reagan made the following statement: 'The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.'
The United States supported the brutal Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua for over 40 years. The Nicaraguan people, led by the Sandinistas, overthrew this regime in 1979, a breathtaking popular revolution.
The Sandinistas weren't perfect. They possessed their fair share of arrogance and their political philosophy contained a number of contradictory elements. But they were intelligent, rational and civilised. They set out to establish a stable, decent, pluralistic society. The death penalty was abolished. Hundreds of thousands of poverty-stricken peasants were brought back from the dead. Over 100,000 families were given title to land. Two thousand schools were built. A quite remarkable literacy campaign reduced illiteracy in the country to less than one seventh. Free education was established and a free health service. Infant mortality was reduced by a third. Polio was eradicated.
The United States denounced these achievements as Marxist/Leninist subversion. In the view of the US government, a dangerous example was being set. If Nicaragua was allowed to establish basic norms of social and economic justice, if it was allowed to raise the standards of health care and education and achieve social unity and national self respect, neighbouring countries would ask the same questions and do the same things. There was of course at the time fierce resistance to the status quo in El Salvador.
I spoke earlier about 'a tapestry of lies' which surrounds us. President Reagan commonly described Nicaragua as a 'totalitarian dungeon'. This was taken generally by the media, and certainly by the British government, as accurate and fair comment. But there was in fact no record of death squads under the Sandinista government. There was no record of torture. There was no record of systematic or official military brutality. No priests were ever murdered in Nicaragua. There were in fact three priests in the government, two Jesuits and a Maryknoll missionary. The totalitarian dungeons were actually next door, in El Salvador and Guatemala. The United States had brought down the democratically elected government of Guatemala in 1954 and it is estimated that over 200,000 people had been victims of successive military dictatorships.
Six of the most distinguished Jesuits in the world were viciously murdered at the Central American University in San Salvador in 1989 by a battalion of the Alcatl regiment trained at Fort Benning, Georgia, USA. That extremely brave man Archbishop Romero was assassinated while saying mass. It is estimated that 75,000 people died. Why were they killed? They were killed because they believed a better life was possible and should be achieved. That belief immediately qualified them as communists. They died because they dared to question the status quo, the endless plateau of poverty, disease, degradation and oppression, which had been their birthright.
The United States finally brought down the Sandinista government. It took some years and considerable resistance but relentless economic persecution and 30,000 dead finally undermined the spirit of the Nicaraguan people. They were exhausted and poverty stricken once again. The casinos moved back into the country. Free health and free education were over. Big business returned with a vengeance. 'Democracy' had prevailed.
But this 'policy' was by no means restricted to Central America. It was conducted throughout the world. It was never-ending. And it is as if it never happened.
The United States supported and in many cases engendered every right wing military dictatorship in the world after the end of the Second World War. I refer to Indonesia, Greece, Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Haiti, Turkey, the Philippines, Guatemala, El Salvador, and, of course, Chile. The horror the United States inflicted upon Chile in 1973 can never be purged and can never be forgiven.
Hundreds of thousands of deaths took place throughout these countries. Did they take place? And are they in all cases attributable to US foreign policy? The answer is yes they did take place and they are attributable to American foreign policy. But you wouldn't know it.
It never happened. Nothing ever happened. Even while it was happening it wasn't happening. It didn't matter. It was of no interest. The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis.
I put to you that the United States is without doubt the greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent, scornful and ruthless it may be but it is also very clever. As a salesman it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity is self love. It's a winner. Listen to all American presidents on television say the words, 'the American people', as in the sentence, 'I say to the American people it is time to pray and to defend the rights of the American people and I ask the American people to trust their president in the action he is about to take on behalf of the American people.'
It's a scintillating stratagem. Language is actually employed to keep thought at bay. The words 'the American people' provide a truly voluptuous cushion of reassurance. You don't need to think. Just lie back on the cushion. The cushion may be suffocating your intelligence and your critical faculties but it's very comfortable. This does not apply of course to the 40 million people living below the poverty line and the 2 million men and women imprisoned in the vast gulag of prisons, which extends across the US.
The United States no longer bothers about low intensity conflict. It no longer sees any point in being reticent or even devious. It puts its cards on the table without fear or favour. It quite simply doesn't give a damn about the United Nations, international law or critical dissent, which it regards as impotent and irrelevant. It also has its own bleating little lamb tagging behind it on a lead, the pathetic and supine Great Britain.
What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very rarely employed these days - conscience? A conscience to do not only with our own acts but to do with our shared responsibility in the acts of others? Is all this dead? Look at Guantanamo Bay. Hundreds of people detained without charge for over three years, with no legal representation or due process, technically detained forever. This totally illegitimate structure is maintained in defiance of the Geneva Convention. It is not only tolerated but hardly thought about by what's called the 'international community'. This criminal outrage is being committed by a country, which declares itself to be 'the leader of the free world'. Do we think about the inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay? What does the media say about them? They pop up occasionally - a small item on page six. They have been consigned to a no man's land from which indeed they may never return. At present many are on hunger strike, being force-fed, including British residents. No niceties in these force-feeding procedures. No sedative or anaesthetic. Just a tube stuck up your nose and into your throat. You vomit blood. This is torture. What has the British Foreign Secretary said about this? Nothing. What has the British Prime Minister said about this? Nothing. Why not? Because the United States has said: to criticise our conduct in Guantanamo Bay constitutes an unfriendly act. You're either with us or against us. So Blair shuts up.
The invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law. The invasion was an arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore of the public; an act intended to consolidate American military and economic control of the Middle East masquerading - as a last resort - all other justifications having failed to justify themselves - as liberation. A formidable assertion of military force responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands and thousands of innocent people.
We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts of random murder, misery, degradation and death to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and democracy to the Middle East'.
How many people do you have to kill before you qualify to be described as a mass murderer and a war criminal? One hundred thousand? More than enough, I would have thought. Therefore it is just that Bush and Blair be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice. But Bush has been clever. He has not ratified the International Criminal Court of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier or for that matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush has warned that he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair has ratified the Court and is therefore available for prosecution. We can let the Court have his address if they're interested. It is Number 10, Downing Street, London.
Death in this context is irrelevant. Both Bush and Blair place death well away on the back burner. At least 100,000 Iraqis were killed by American bombs and missiles before the Iraq insurgency began. These people are of no moment. Their deaths don't exist. They are blank. They are not even recorded as being dead. 'We don't do body counts,' said the American general Tommy Franks.
Early in the invasion there was a photograph published on the front page of British newspapers of Tony Blair kissing the cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A grateful child,' said the caption. A few days later there was a story and photograph, on an inside page, of another four-year-old boy with no arms. His family had been blown up by a missile. He was the only survivor. 'When do I get my arms back?' he asked. The story was dropped. Well, Tony Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, nor the body of any other mutilated child, nor the body of any bloody corpse. Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're making a sincere speech on television.
The 2,000 American dead are an embarrassment. They are transported to their graves in the dark. Funerals are unobtrusive, out of harm's way. The mutilated rot in their beds, some for the rest of their lives. So the dead and the mutilated both rot, in different kinds of graves.
Here is an extract from a poem by Pablo Neruda, 'I'm Explaining a Few Things':
And one morning all that was burning, one morning the bonfires leapt out of the earth devouring human beings and from then on fire, gunpowder from then on, and from then on blood. Bandits with planes and Moors, bandits with finger-rings and duchesses, bandits with black friars spattering blessings came through the sky to kill children and the blood of children ran through the streets without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out, vipers that the vipers would abominate.
Face to face with you I have seen the blood of Spain tower like a tide to drown you in one wave of pride and knives.
Treacherous generals: see my dead house, look at broken Spain: from every house burning metal flows instead of flowers from every socket of Spain Spain emerges and from every dead child a rifle with eyes and from every crime bullets are born which will one day find the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry speak of dreams and leaves and the great volcanoes of his native land.
Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets. Come and see the blood in the streets! *
Let me make it quite clear that in quoting from Neruda's poem I am in no way comparing Republican Spain to Saddam Hussein's Iraq. I quote Neruda because nowhere in contemporary poetry have I read such a powerful visceral description of the bombing of civilians.
I have said earlier that the United States is now totally frank about putting its cards on the table. That is the case. Its official declared policy is now defined as 'full spectrum dominance'. That is not my term, it is theirs. 'Full spectrum dominance' means control of land, sea, air and space and all attendant resources.
The United States now occupies 702 military installations throughout the world in 132 countries, with the honourable exception of Sweden, of course. We don't quite know how they got there but they are there all right.
The United States possesses 8,000 active and operational nuclear warheads. Two thousand are on hair trigger alert, ready to be launched with 15 minutes warning. It is developing new systems of nuclear force, known as bunker busters. The British, ever cooperative, are intending to replace their own nuclear missile, Trident. Who, I wonder, are they aiming at? Osama bin Laden? You? Me? Joe Dokes? China? Paris? Who knows? What we do know is that this infantile insanity - the possession and threatened use of nuclear weapons - is at the heart of present American political philosophy. We must remind ourselves that the United States is on a permanent military footing and shows no sign of relaxing it.
Many thousands, if not millions, of people in the United States itself are demonstrably sickened, shamed and angered by their government's actions, but as things stand they are not a coherent political force - yet. But the anxiety, uncertainty and fear which we can see growing daily in the United States is unlikely to diminish.
I know that President Bush has many extremely competent speech writers but I would like to volunteer for the job myself. I propose the following short address which he can make on television to the nation. I see him grave, hair carefully combed, serious, winning, sincere, often beguiling, sometimes employing a wry smile, curiously attractive, a man's man.
'God is good. God is great. God is good. My God is good. Bin Laden's God is bad. His is a bad God. Saddam's God was bad, except he didn't have one. He was a barbarian. We are not barbarians. We don't chop people's heads off. We believe in freedom. So does God. I am not a barbarian. I am the democratically elected leader of a freedom-loving democracy. We are a compassionate society. We give compassionate electrocution and compassionate lethal injection. We are a great nation. I am not a dictator. He is. I am not a barbarian. He is. And he is. They all are. I possess moral authority. You see this fist? This is my moral authority. And don't you forget it.'
A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection - unless you lie - in which case of course you have constructed your own protection and, it could be argued, become a politician.
I have referred to death quite a few times this evening. I shall now quote a poem of my own called 'Death'.
Where was the dead body found? Who found the dead body? Was the dead body dead when found? How was the dead body found?
Who was the dead body?
Who was the father or daughter or brother Or uncle or sister or mother or son Of the dead and abandoned body?
Was the body dead when abandoned? Was the body abandoned? By whom had it been abandoned?
Was the dead body naked or dressed for a journey?
What made you declare the dead body dead? Did you declare the dead body dead? How well did you know the dead body? How did you know the dead body was dead?
Did you wash the dead body Did you close both its eyes Did you bury the body Did you leave it abandoned Did you kiss the dead body
When we look into a mirror we think the image that confronts us is accurate. But move a millimetre and the image changes. We are actually looking at a never-ending range of reflections. But sometimes a writer has to smash the mirror - for it is on the other side of that mirror that the truth stares at us.
I believe that despite the enormous odds which exist, unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual determination, as citizens, to define the real truth of our lives and our societies is a crucial obligation which devolves upon us all. It is in fact mandatory.
If such a determination is not embodied in our political vision we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to us - the dignity of man.
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