I lean my head back to view my burlap ceiling. Stapled and framed in blonde wood. Another artistic flair. Something different.
Just ask me about different. It has been the theme of my life.
I sent my, Who Am I post, to Sassy Silver Surfers. An over fifty ladies group, of women who surf.
Continue reading Where am I?
I would like to write a normal post. But I don’t believe there is any such thing anymore. Why are my photos tagged screenshot?
I just had to delete a list of freeloaders on my widgets ( the directional columns on the left), I don’t know these people. I don’t want to know them. I don’t want to be a springboard for other people’s scams and marketing tactics. I pay for this blog. I pay for it to be free of advertisements.
In the beginning, I wrote about being free of alcohol and I was loaded down with Vodka ads. I couldn’t have that.
I have never participated on this site to try and make money. And I darn sure don’t need a machine to do my writing for me. I don’t need a machine to create art or to play music. Sorry y’all but I am bored to tears when you are on stage musically masturbating with your gadgets. And then it all sounds the same. Every song. No soul.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE is taking over.
Many have jumped on board. The blog posts are often appalling.
Continue reading Authenticity in an Artificial World
Through the years having miles of conversations concerning peace and violence, people would always bring up Ghandi. I would have to inform them he did not win India through 100% peace. He was told to give up or the British were going to slaughter a community and that they did. When this massacre became public things changed. What is wrong with people? What is the inhumane nature of humanity about? It cannot be ignored. We all must choose our paths daily. I do. It’s been a long walk.
Billy Jack, Walking Tall and My Name is Nobody are movies I frequented in my youth. Just to be asked this question has flooded my mind with childhood/teenage memories.
At one time, I knew the entire script of Billy Jack. I was enamored with the idea of pacifism. – I was expressing peace daily. Expounding on the concept of peace. As I pontificated on peace one day, my brother grabbed me and beat me up. He said that was to assure me; I was not a pacifist. I do not speak to my brother anymore. It took many years to break that familial tie, but I finally did it. I was also a runaway. I related to the kids, in Jane’s camp. There was such an underground world of care back at that time. I do not regret any of my adventures. Except for maybe not being able to make it on my own, and having to come home. I hope to enroll at the Universidad de Paz in Costa Rica, this August. I am and always have been in pursuit of peace.
Bufford Pusser in Walking Tall had similar characteristics as Billy Jack. Billy Jack was an avenger. So was Bufford. He stood up for the disadvantaged. He took names and he kicked ass. One low life m-fer at a time. Greed and corruption had taken over his Tennessee home town, whilst he was away prize fighting. When he came home, he didn’t recognize his neighborhood. Gambling and prostitution had taken over. He became the local sheriff/peacemaker. Bufford walked with a big stick and beat the hell out of the low crawling, scumbag, vermin that had infested his peaceful hill. The tragic thing was the bad guys in an attempt to assassinate Bufford, with a long range rifle, killed his wife. And they will die and go to hell for that. Walking Tall was based on a true story.
My Name is Nobody started out with a guy, in a mountain stream, catching fish with his hands. Then he was in a saloon. He drew six guns and slapped a guy in the face, faster than lightening. Pow, pow, pow! Nobody was “an out of touch with reality” character. It was a spaghetti western/comedy. I was in the eleventh grade and I would drive myself and my sister to the theatre. We would laugh hysterically. I wanted be like Nobody. Sling and slap. M-fer, you are going down. I despise the dog pile of life. And I don’t like being at the bottom. I have had to scrap and scrape in my life. These movies were cathartic for me. – Henry Fonda who played in this movie was asked, who is faster than the fastest gunslinger in town and his reply was “Nobody.” Hence, Nobody showed up to save the day.
I watched those movies fifty and over years ago. I am going to watch them again. If my information concerning these movies is incorrect, get over it. I don’t want to fight about it. Look them up and read about them. Watch them. They are great movies. I wrote this from memory. And what a special memory this has been.
It’s funny – I checked AI for feedback on my writing. I have to laugh. — Beware of the new corruption. There is zero way to fight back.
I would advise my younger self to go to college. I would tell her that all the hell of her life will fall away on the green. She will finally be home, in academia. College is not like high school. Your life will take root and you will bloom.
Believe in yourself. Trust me. I know.
Characters in Carl Hiaasen novels. All of them. Miscreants and law abiding. Rich and poor. They are all in Florida and like people I have known in my life. But these folk are in the book and removed from reality. My preferred habitation.
* this photo is one I posted in my instagram @everydaypaparraza – yes that is Flea. Bass player for Red Hot Chili Peppers and my friend Ellen Zoe Golden. Miami journalist turned New York publicist.
A typical central nervous system.
I wouldn’t know anything about that.
After a long and arduous walk across Costa Rica, Celeste finally laid eyes on the Caribbean. The town she arrived in was bleak, the ocean was overwhelmingly the ocean.
Celeste has been threatened all of her life. First is was the darkness of her home. Then it was socialization. She had to wear awful clothes, pray on her knees and talk to other children. It all seemed so pointless.
She swam at four. Rode a horse at three. She was born to be wild. Her mother introduced her to the beach. Things were good for a while. Then she left home at seventeen. Ill equipped. She suffered years of abuse from a violent, abusive husband. She was forced to live inland. Gulping in city air, burning her feet on asphalt and rubbing shoulders with hoodlums and creeps. Celeste maneuvered herself through life. She learned. Her internal life was one of question, always question. What the f*ck is going on?
Celeste’s external life was out of the box. She was called eccentric. She was smart, not dumb. She heard the walls call her an idiot. But she knew that was not true.
She died a while back and had crossed Costa Rica walking. She had to get herself across the border and into Panama. She could do it. Celeste could do anything. Anything she wanted.
Everyone else could go swim with the current. Bling Bling. Get yourself a red hot mortgage and burn yourself to the ground. But not Celeste. She believed in swimming against the current. Fuck the lifeguards. Fuck Apple. Fuck Facebook. But Instagram – she’ll keep Instagram.
With a bucket full of ocean water in one hand and a paint brush in the other, she began to create her new reality.
I have been forced to live in a technological world for 43 years. It began when I enrolled in college. I took an English Comp and Statistics class. I had to do every thing on the computer. I complied. It was an edit in my life.
Add on take away. That’s editing. When something doesn’t work – change it. If it’s wrong it’s wrong, forever.
What makes sense to one person, confuses another. Some people never bother to write a sentence that needs editing. Nor do they think to change their life. To move. To learn new things.
To add to or take away.
That’s editing. My life is full of edits.
3129 Phyllis St.
I travel south
down the river
in the morning
Crackers eat oatmeal for breakfast
Four roses are in the front yard
Saddle soap in the back
I climb
the steps
at noon
Where the crackers meet for lunch
Eat biscuits with gravy
She plays cards with a blind man
They laugh and tell – old stories
The sun follows I-10
and rests
behind Phyllis St.
Ponies walk for miles in circles
Gators mate
Boats float
Flamingos eat shrimp and die
I run
to the streets
in my twilight
Away from the crackers – Oatmeal shrimp – biscuits and gravy
The roses died – the saddle dried
The boat sunk
The blindman got lasix
I survive
Somewhere in the South
I AM A WIDGET/Gallery Lover
My soul is enmeshed with these subjects. Each photo a memory. A person impressed in my being, like words in print. They tell a story. I know these people intimately, as I look at them over and over through the years.
If you are on an iPhone and you tap the horizontal bars in the right corner, my widgets will appear. They are mostly photo galleries. The first is always changing order. The other two are stationary. I recently updated all three. I am sad to say, that it took me two and a half months to follow through with this task.
I am getting back to this writing. Mostly in first person. The snap shot encapsulate my life. And my love of the people that I share this planet with. I am fascinated by people.
My instagram https://www.instagram.com/everydaypaparazza/ has 800 portraits. Check them out. Yes, there is a turtle and a guitar. But most are people. Every day, extraordinary people. That was the purpose of the site. I wanted to link it as a widget in the sidebar but was unsuccessful.
Most of my unsuccessful technical endeavors go by the wayside until I am ready to tackle it.
In the meantime, I browse-look at my photos and read other’s blogs.
I am a happy widget.
As a side note to my sidebar – Many indigenous people do not want their photos taken. They believe their souls will be stolen. I encountered this at The Moon Dance in Costa Rica and with the Mayans in Guatemala. I could have snuck their photos but I backed off.
My soul is entwined.
We are One.
Fish Eye Farm 