Where’s My Metaphorical Straw?
It has not been smooth sailing for the ole swandiver good people. Begin a few weeks back with a total DWB that culmanated with a good five hours in the county jail (L Word, you liar! It was nothing like you said it would be.) and add to that the continuing sucking of my soul at work, the only person who has got me since I came to this city moving back to Texas, my aunt getting her final break from her 15+ year fight with cancer and yet another hard crush on a sublimly fabulous yet totally unattainable woman.
For weeks I have been working myself to exhaustion, hoping that if I numbed my mind with idiotic auto claims and sleep that I would be able to process things when I got to a better frame of mind. But it didn’t work. I spent the last week barely able to make my regular shift, calling in on Tuesday night. The sleep I pray for stubbornly refuses to come and the only feeling that came through this morning was some deeply primal, overwhelming urge to fuck. And since none of the above mentioned problems are in the least bit sexy, I have no idea where that came from.
It’s as if I’m some giant, pulsing boil all tight, painful and throbbing. All I need is a good cathartic lansing to make all the negativity ooze out and heal.
Now I have my own Sunday Morning Signs
You’re driving down the road and you come across a sign in front of a church with a little quip like, “Seven days without prayer makes one weak.” If you’re anything like me (and good luck if you are), you’ve always wanted to rearrange those signs into slightly more cynical sayings. Now you can get your vicarious chuckle on with the Church Sign Generator.
I’ll take my signs where I can get it
It’s so weird and out of place that it just has to mean something.
So I came into work around ten last night because nothing else was going on and worked until about two. While waiting for my friend Olesea to finish up her shift, we decide to go out of the building for a quick smoke. Just as we walk out of the doors our friend Jim looks up from texting and just points to the right of us. Not more than a hundred feet from us, over in the grass, was a moose. A frickin’ MOOSE!
The odds of a moose just wandering the grounds of a call center building in the middle of the largest city in western Massachusetts with no significant patch of woods around are astronomical. I think I might actually go play the lottery today.
My inaugrial mobile post
I now have a new tool to supplement my woefully inadequate attempts to keep an up to date blog. Because I don’t currently have internet access at my home, I was looking for ways to keep writing that would not bust my wage slave budget. Since it would b another nine months before I’ll be able to get my laptop, I upgraded my prepaid Virgin mobile phone to the Wildcard with the flip up qwerty keyboard.
While there are mos def some drawbacks, I’ll at least be able to have more posts.
R.I.P. Utah Phillips
I am a latecomer to the wisdom, the radical truthiness of Utah Phillips. I discovered him through my love of Ani DiFranco and their 1999 album “My Fellow Workers”. Both artists helped me further along the progressive path and deprogramming the flawed logic of corporatism. While there are many things I could say (which have been said before by better people), I thought the best memorial I could offer is a chance for other people to hear why he is so special. So I have included some worthwhile quotes of Utah’s in case there are still people out there who are interested.
I would also like to use the comment section of this post for you all out there to post your own radical quotes that you have found uplifting.
“Kids don’t have a little brother working in the coal mine, they don’t have a little sister coughing her lungs out in the looms of the big mill towns. … We organized; we broke the back of the sweatshops in this country; we have child labor laws. Those were not benevolent gifts from enlightened management. They were fought for, they were bled for, they were died for by working people, by people like us. … That’s why I sing these songs.”
“The state can’t give you freedom, and the state can’t take it away. You’re
born with it, like your eyes, like your ears. Freedom is something you
assume, then you wait for someone to try to take it away. The degree to
which you resist is the degree to which you are free…”‘You are about to be told one more time that you are America’s most valuable natural resource….. Have you seen what they do to valuable natural resources?! Have you seen a strip mine? Have you seen a clear cut in the forest? Have you seen a polluted river? Don’t ever let them call you a valuable natural resource… they’re going to strip your mind.. your soul…they’re going to clear cut your best thoughts for the sake of profit unless you learn to resist. “Cause the profit system follows the path of least resistance and following the path of least resistance is what makes the river crooked. Hmmmm….”
“the stories I tell don’t just come out of my own life. many of them come to me from my elders. i strained to hear them through the roar of my own ego, my own needs and desires. but when i became quiet and open to the thoughts and feelings of my elders, i learned that my life-story deepens, grows richer, by taking in the stories of those who have led extraordinary lives, lives that can never be lived again. except in memory – through mine, through yours – as the fragments of our story – lives mix and blend into a common whole, the great river of our collective memory of which we are all a part and into which each one of us will, some day, dissolve.”
