060920 - Extinction Chronicles ·

My father was a man of infinite aphorisms - i exaggerate, but not by much. As such it is difficult to refrain myself at times, like the beginning of essays, e.g., “Postpone short term gratification in favor of long term satisfaction” is sage advice that has been entirely winnowed from the public domain by the digital overlords imploring ever greater immediacy, regardless of it false face, while rapaciously seizing the monetized benefits of such a stampede. ‘Merican workers are the most productive workers on the planet by every metric i’m aware of, yet the disparity in CEO to worker pay is the greatest on the planet - an irrationality so much so the conman of this or any other century i’m aware of was elected by that same oppressed electorate based on his promise to “rectify” that inequality · “rectumize” is more like it.

Nor is much going to change when he is removed by his handlers for egregious looting that called too much attention to their systematic dismantling of an imperfect, but far more equatable distribution of the world’s “GDP.” Gross Domestic Product which is a bullshit name for how much a population can generate wealth for an increasingly narrow segment of that population. GDP has no relationship to the efficient distribution of food, housing, or medicine. A wiser measure of the success of any economy would be how many children are taught to read, analyze and criticize; or the capacity for any civil agency to decarcerate and inspire individuals who have not yet found ways to contribute to the commonwealth, but above all a metric for broadcasting the level of corruption and political performance of public representatives and bureaucrats similar to the tracking of sex offenders.

In short, what i am advocating a complete overthrow of the social order, with the preservation and safety of Mother Earth dictating every policy made now and ever after. 

People are not widgets that can easily be replaced on a whim by a petulant manager - human beings all are complex creatures with very real requirements to perform at their optimum. Calm, loving regard is a need at the core of every human i’ve ever interacted with, even the most violent and irrational of personalities will respond to respect and honest regard for their needs. Many are wounded and are in great pain, so without a public awareness of each of our sorrows, there is no way any public servant can be expected to provide adequate service to the client which they are being paid good money to support. Severely curtail the compensation of political leaders who are being guided by avarice and sub-rosa agreements with unscrupulous entities, public or private. It is not rocket science - throw the books open to public scrutiny, most importantly the public utility known as the “internet.”

This is an electronic path that was developed using public money and then hijacked by profiteers no different than the pissant people who would charge $24 for a liter of water after a climactic tragedy - and make no mistake there will be more and more pissant people charging higher and higher prices for water after more and more climactic tragedies. What i am advocating is not an easy life for nothing, for you will not be able to achieve what i advocate without sacrifice and determination. What i can promise you is that if you harbor delusions about getting a suite in _rump tower because you stiffed your neighbor on the price of repair for his vehicle or charged the old lady down the street twice the "going rate" for the same light switch repair, it is your own throat you are cutting and Mssr _rump has already demonstrated that you are not welcome at Mar-a-lago, so where ya' gonna go mah homie¿?

The running dogs with large caches of armement are not the enemy, they honestly believe, maybe for the 1st time in their lives that there is some respect left for all that they have lost - only because they were never taught to understand how little they were respected in the 1st place? Delusion is blood sport in the land of ‘merica; the business class fought their own war amongst themselves once they had purchased the mortgage on your soul and committed you to a life of servitude. All we are witnessing is the last gasps of the war of the titans, which for all its media hype is more like the war of the pissants, based more on their paucity of purpose than their their presumed efficacy - they do not give a fuck about you, or me or anyone that cannot help them to achieve the delusion that the more wealth one owns, the more valuable that human being is. Just now the rain is coming, and my loving neighbors pointed to the sky and suggested in a language i have yet to understand, “be careful, the rain is coming.” We, all of us need to be those kind of neighbors for each other.  

jts 06/09/2020  

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com 

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050920 - Extinction Chronicles ·

How to get our species back on track toward a benign future and loving embrace for this sublime experience of life - i d k · and i’ll be go to hell if i stop asking that question. It’s become very popular to become a nihilist, especially at the higher echelons of the social order, but i think that is in part because of the cowardice of people unwilling to break their fingernails on the barbwire, and because to possess $200 billion and remain impotent to aid anyone in what can only be described as a “target rich environment” has to be more than debilitating - more the ideal metaphor for a “deer caught in the headlights.” How embarrassing that must be to scramble over the last hurdle to find oneself at the top of the heap only to find nothing but zeroes within one’s inside.

To have the deference of world leaders, but be unable to find anything of worth to see when looking in a mirror must be a terrifying experience. I stay away from mirrors myself, but for entirely different reasons. I’ve yet to find a reflecting surface, idea or friend which shows me honestly the fear or the love i have struggled to achieve on the other side of that fear i know is mine, though further from daily, or what is that perception which presides with me over confusion, disgust and self-loathing and which daily, breath by breath resembles me less and less¿ What angle of incidence is capable of peering pass my increasing blindness into the regions of my being that embraces a better world than the one i see reflected on the faces of those suffering around me?

We’re getting into touchy-feely gobbledygook, but i hate to be the one to tell you this; we be neck deep in that shit, and have been for some time. To live on an abundant sphere of moisture in a desert atmosphere of “dark matter” and not be able to, for lack of a better expression, “capitalize” that reality for everyone’s benefit is at the root of our extinction. That we today have numbed ourselves such that we cannot, or will not witness the  wheezing expiration of barely born infants, and then scroll to the latest Diva declaration of _____fill in the blank, with nary a peep in our pulse rate describes more the behavior of a corpse than that of a dynamic loving creature of very nearly any species but our own.

And still, how is this alarming discussion moving anyone, much less myself toward the stairway which might rise us from this morass we, every last man-jack one of us is asshole deep in¿ i d k? I was kind of hoping you did when i started this exercise in daily futility - thinking somehow the argumentative proclivities i’ve encountered on every continent i’ve ever stepped on would rise to the occasion and declare to me in front of g_d and country, “you stupid motherfucker, this __________fill in the blank is how you solve the problem you are whinging about!” But Nooo, just like schoolboys on their first dates, when it comes push to shove and your dicks are on display, you shrivel like a bunch of surprised George Costanzas, and step far enough back to let the women of the world fix your fuckups - i know this only because that is me to the bone.

The problem is i’m no longer sure whether my reticence to take charge and order people around is from spiritual maturity or existential fatigue after tilting at wind mills from an early age when it became clear to me that i was not a good fit for this world, this time, my family or my own skin - not a good sign for a blissful life. Yet there could not have been a better climate in which to grow old. By the time i figured out that i was not alone in feeling awkward, i began to see more clearly how many others of my species have absolutely no resemblance to the cartoon characters commercials trotted out as examples of how “bliss” smelled, walked, talked and appeared, but never farted. I can’t say i’ve found kindred spirits as yet with this emerging awareness but have come to believe the more i can reflect well what i find the better are the chances that i will come to encounter an accurate depiction of my “self.”

jts 05/09/2020  

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com 

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040920 - Extinction Chronicles ·

It’s closing in on my older sister’s birthday - 11 september 1952 · i pity her and her birthday, but not so much that she could hear; she’s kind of deaf that way, and me with the ruptured eardrum.I’m not sure how i can face anything but a most abbreviated post. I learned yesterday that my life’s work is facing seizure from a “storage” concern because the bank i rely on sent accurate information for payment, but the concern rejected my payment telling the bank that the CVI number didn't line up. I didn’t sleep the same day my neighbors inexplicably ceased sending food through the magic window just as the food i’d bought for myself but had abandoned began growing rancid. I am sure in the world of today, i am not alone facing confusion about adaptation to changing roles.

I sluggishly shifted gears and contacted all i could to resolve the storage circumstance, but not having slept the night before required a nap so i could make best use of a borrowed phone to make the "bank" phone call. I understand the links that failed and why, but am at a loss to explain to all the parties involved how much i appreciate their kind consideration of my predicament. Not the least of which the dame in the same city whose storage space i may have to abandon and my more than confusing "out-of-thin-air" plea for assistance. Most of the people i matriculate with on fb are humans whom i have shared air with and have some semblance of human contact, yet at mid-morning i found myself both intrigued and beseeching a perfect stranger in the same breath.

The predicament i am trying to convey covers about 50 years of creative effort. The plan i'd conceived included fantasies that the work might constitute, in whole or part, my retirement fund. My elder sibling reigned over the theft or mismanagement of 80% of the last four years of my drawing efforts, and so with this SNAFU about a errant payment, i faced the loss of nearly 40 years of labor. She who entertained my concern will be long remembered for her gentle, though arms-length interest. I don’t know any other way to roll and had previously expressed my more carnal desire to know her more intimately that what fb could provide, but today, this morning she rose to the occasion with pointed questions of how large are they, what prices do you expect and stating simply i have been alone since _____

One has to appreciate the flexibility of a world where one as phoneless and friendless as myself could still manage resources enough to discuss account information with multiple business entities and enjoy some marginal emotional support from a perfect stranger, or numbers of strangers in the service of a “greater good”. Not that my life’s work constitutes that necessarily, but i am not a lying fuck looking to prey on the sympathies of people already distressed with their own realities; i have made myself vulnerable revealed my need to the generosity of people i don’t know such that they too can expand and yield kindness to one such as myself in dire straits.

To be honest i would like to bed this woman who has generously considered boarding my life’s work within her personal compound - but i made that desire expressly clear prior to this unexpected set of circumstances, so this event is not entirely mercenary on my part. I just like sensuous women with generous hearts because i think there is much for me to learn if i could only unplug my donkey ego and apply the loving heart g_d gave to me for reading this peculiar landscape of death we now call life; that and i like to watch shit grow that i don’t understand - like how woman after all she has suffered from the stupidity of man can tender a gentle caress to his cheek and make all things right with the world, while all it seems he can manage is to need her more - dear g_d show me how to serve · please 

jts 04/09/2020  

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com 

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030920 - Extinction Chronicles ·

Days of the week are one of the metrics the gerontologists use to track dementia - i am certainly demented · but we all knew that. I can’t even spell the word, so i don’t know what valid criticism i can make about the field of study, except to say i’m old as dirt and that should at least give me a high-chair at the table if not a corner seat. The nation i was raised in and where the storage space containing my life’s work is located is one calendar day behind where i live. This is only crucial at such times payments are not met and arrangements must be made with people who are sleeping while i panic - fuck panic · Let’s talk about love; all the best things in my life have occurred as a result of love, and the worst things - but that’s a different story. I have referred to L_____ in other vignettes; she was a petite dark haired beauty with an iron disposition, but i would only come to see that aspect of her character once the vault door of romance had closed. Unrequited love is how one sided romance is described; she and i managed to toss that reality back and forth across the net for a number of decades culminating in her current marriage to a class mate from a meeting at our 40 year high school reunion.

I will not be making it to our 50 year reunion, but wish her and hime continued happiness. Somewhere along the line, i lost the torch i carried for each of the loves i irrationally locked onto, almost without foundation - nothing more than the chemical reaction C.G. Jung described when two people meet · In discussions with ma, aside from her tangible disappointment about my solitary state, she would opine, “so you’re a romantic” when i would try and describe the feelings i have about someone i care deeply about. I can’t honestly say i know what motivates my mother toward love. I know she waited a good decade before remarrying the brother of an old friend. The two of them, she and the brother, were very happy - i believe, though there was much emotional violence, and some good measure of distrust woven into their complicated relationship. I know this because i met my last wife at their house one holiday meal and later discovered romantic intrigue was part of the equation.

As it is with all love - but this was a little too close to home · Many years after my wife and i were divorced, i was driving ma on errands from her retirement compound and while turning left toward the gate ma turned toward me in the seat of a car she promised me but gave to another and remarked, “you know M______ only married you because of my money.” I have to chuckle at the fragile ego of a parent who would undermine her own child in such a way, yet that is a feature of my upbringing that i either deny and by that denial thereby mute my own clarity and self awareness, or fully embrace that aspect of my family heritage, and then find ways to reconcile with the much different person than “he” who she was referring to; i opted for the latter though i really had no choice, for the disparity of her thinking with my own unusual personal experience allowed for very little middle ground. It seems that space is entirely occupied by my sycophantic siblings who really are in it for her money - as i see it from my limited perspective as “pariah” from a family of pretty people ·

It is not bitterness that you read, for i have had to live with my compromised reality from the age of 5 when it was commonly discussed whether an eye patch would cure my “duane’s retraction syndrome, or palsy of the 6th cranial nerve” depending on one’s reading, or whether the special insert in the sole of my shoe would correct my short-leg step. I am a two-eyed cyclops with a gimp leg and a mother who is so conceited that she thinks it is her fault, but blames me to anyone within listening distance. My only responsibility is to propagate out into the universe my gratitude for life, my love of family whether or not i allow them into my sphere and to be very mindful of how, and who i accept into close acquaintance. I love my mother for her unique contribution to a population that is facing extinction. I look past her unwillingness to love me openly and forgive me for not having been born as beautiful as her other offsprings - but i do not accept her judgment of my behavior behavior as being "bad" because i did my best with the circumstances with which i have been faced.

That is between me and my g_d - she, i believe will forgive me, with reservations perhaps, but ultimately loving forgiveness. I would like to attribute my personal decision to a better appreciation of my mother’s more obscure attributes, those qualities of character not hidden behind fear, and pain and vanity, but the qualities of character which allowed her to teach a semi-blind child to see, or a cripple to admit no impediment and demand that he shovel gravel with the best of them, and in her own way to try and see the best in siblings who would never understand his suffering much less hers. Ma is a crafty old woman, and for those who are changing her diaper and listening to her later day peremptory demands, listen carefully; please. There is much wisdom in the voice of my mother. She has taught me to seek love in the most difficult of places, to see nobility in the lowest of characters and to recognize that behind the cruelty and destruction of many amongst us, lies a simple yearning heart that wants no more than to be cared for - kindly · how kewl is that ¿?

jts 03/09/2020  

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com 

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020920 - Extinction Chronicles ·

Having no idea where you are i can’t say what your paradise looks like just now - mine is hot as fuck @ 2:57 pm · I’m beginning to get a sense about the war of attrition the ruling class is waging; for the longest time i could not fathom how they expected to lose such large segments of the population through starvation, climate devastation and disease but still maintain control. It is because a smaller more frightened body of consumers will be easier to cow into obedience - meanwhile back at the ranch · the technology is such that they, the ruling survivors can maintain isolated compounds and still access the now fully automated income stream from a sham economy that was never meant to support the 7 billion humans they forced into birth. Well that’s just kind of mean; not normal mean, but like Dorothy Parker might have said, “that is mean with raisins on top.”

The constant mechanical fan i resort to for wicking the sweat from my body is now just swirling hot air from one place to another - an apt simile for my exit strategy · wiggle until i can wiggle no more. I remain astonished, though at my good fortune for having been raised amongst funny people, who even in their profound sadness, still illicit a grin from me. Some expressly by their language, others just by the circumstances they resort to for comfort - my elder brother fancied himself the “working class hero” and so began to seize all the family assets to finance his rise to fame and fortune, while my sister wanted to be the 1st Nobel Laureate for poetry so she entangled her future with someone who could provide the necessary misery for such a literary endeavor - the youngest brother · the fair-haired-one never learned what it meant to fail so he didn’t, and i believe failure confuses him to this day.

I would wish my family on anyone reading this because they are grand people, but i don’t recommend you tell them that “Joe sent me,” rather try “Bernard, or Gloria” something that doesn’t smack of the pedestrian, for the more exotic might pique their interest. I’m being snarky and it’s hard to resist, yet i really do advocate you seek them out for your circle of acquaintances, if only because of the club they represent, the same club Groucho Marx said he’d never want to belong to - he didn’t want to belong to any club that would accept him as a member. I saw a photo of a Mar-a-Lago assembly of _rump supporters and was struck dumb by how sub-par they appeared to be. These were not characters out of “The Great Gatsby” these were mooks from the “Daily Inquirer” or the “Walmart Shopper’s Gazette,” the same characters you find in candid youtube uploads of the “poor but wannabe known” at check stands across ‘merica.

Still and all; if there was one existential conundrum that disturbs me more than any other of the many others conundrums in our world, that would be how difficult it has become for me to leave the world a better place than i found it. It feels as though i am pushing the rock up the hill more than the days the story of Sisyphus was written - my last roommate had determined tobacco as her method of demise, what she didn’t share in her proposal for cohabitation was that i should sweep up the ashes. I love her to this day and know not whether she draws breath in this plague infested world we share. The disease was not insurgent when i abandoned her to her fate in my home town. I chose to leave and meet mine where i now sit writing these giddy lamentations; am i foul - did i fail yet another human being, will i be punished for not having remained close to an unspoken demand¿ i d k ?

Hopefully, as my being expires and i grow closer to my own death i will not presume the same unspoken demand from anyone - another snarky remark toward someone you know nothing about, so it would seem i’m not positioning myself in the optimum place to die at peace having acquitted myself to the bone, but only as far as the skin of my own denial. Yeah, well - the bamboo got cut back, my laundry is done and i have rinsed the sweat from my own body · so give me a round of applause it would mean a lot to me were i to expire on my way down the long hallway to my last cigarette of the day and another solitary night, i’m beginning to realize would never be understood by a companion however much i loved them or honored them or promised them, because my fate is mine alone and cannot be absolved by another, but only through a constant refrain of loving kindness toward myself for my wayward, but ever loving ways.

jts 02/09/2020  

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com 

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010920 - Extinction Chronicles ·

“be kind whenever possible, it is always possible” - Dalai Lama · I have chosen to veer from excoriating prose in opposition to injustice in our world, toward enabling language which serves to dispel despair and replace it with “lead, follow or get the fuck out of the way” language; this should be interesting. Not because it is unnatural for me, but because i have found that others are jarred by the obvious - like “fuck _rump, he’s an empty suit" · giving him attention is like the pats on the head he gets from his corporate sponsors, or the thrill he might feel from licking Vladimir’s closed fist; (i can see this experiment in empowering prose is going to be a challenge). These characters are secondary to the the drama on the stage in front of us all - if “all the world’s a stage and we are but players” - William Shakespeare · our stage is on fire, and all the exits are blocked by stacks of money from those in the front row.

While we in the cheap seats look on bewildered imagining the story is supposed to be about us, yet no one we see is recognizable to those we love and those we know are suffering. My friends the farmers next door are superior to me in every way, and my ego chafes because i am built to serve, but am now faced with the very real possibility that what i possess is of little value to them. Conversely what they have to teach me may be beyond my capacity to learn. For example: the fallow peanut crop field has been trenched and furrowed in 4 days - picture a field the size of a major league diamond to the depth of 18” x 12. I tried to flatten the base path between 3rd base on home plate and got about 6’ before i expired for the day. I do not possess language enough to express my profound admiration for the strength and endurance of this 5’ nothing man with the sunshine smile and arms of steel, whose wife then shares their food with me - all i can come up with is shame and embarrassment for being a foreign burden.

And, that low opinion of myself is based entirely on my own conceit and vanity having absolutely nothing to do with the kind reception my neighbors have shown me; i know there is a lesson here somewhere; i believe it is based on the complete destruction of an identity i have barely learned enough about to criticize, much less abandon. So how is this useful if you are reading to learn how to evade “extinction”? a fair question, for which i have no answer. The best and most honest response i can give you is to keep asking questions. I am exceedingly uncomfortable with anyone who knows all the answers - one the greatest gifts my father gave to me in our later discussions. The person i had relied on all my life to correct my errant ways miraculously transfigured himself into a sceptic right before my very eyes.

Whether i can manage a similar transfiguration is a good question. I am an inveterate burro, some have used the expression “bulldog,” so the change for me to become fluid and open to the unending alteration of all i hold sacred is more than an academic question - i must alter my dreams to admit a fluidity about an existence i can barely tolerate for its strangeness to my own vision of “correctness,” much less embrace as a standard of behavior. I used to be open and nonjudgmental, and explored most every range of circumstances and cultures i could find, doing everything i could to learn from everyone and assume the best about each - somewhere on that road my essence became challenged and i resorted to my base nature · the being i’d been cautioned to become or ______ fill in the blank. It hasn’t worked out well, and i don’t quite know how to embrace that essence and discount any false understanding in order to once again participate in the flavorful bounty of all the world’s ways.

i am beginning to believe the process is more mysterious than the rationalists would have us believe, but i am not going to sweat defining conditions or things that define, or decline that which others believe. I fancy myself as a “freethinker” something i got from my 99 year-old at-death paternal great grandmother Munner (Alice Content Foster). She was a grand dame, a  family of three siblings - two sisters and a brother. In my limited relationship about the progeny out of that triumvirate · we have had much in common in ways that have nothing to do with common upbringing or mutual ambition; almost as though the branches of our family trees know how to grow amongst themselves to maximize some common, help me; what’s the word i’m looking for ______fill in the blank. But we as a species are so much more than “nature vs nurture,” though my own siblings more closely resemble the each of us in our common thread, it is almost as though that closeness breeds repellence for some eternal purpose. What i do know is that my branch bears more resemblance to your branch in all its discrepancy than my own branch bears resemblance to itself · i find encouragement in that belief to keep looking for kin amidst the kith .

jts 01/09/2020  

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com 

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310820 - Extinction Chronicles ·

“The blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and overturned the order of the soul” - Leonard Cohen · in yesterday’s epistle i shared a pool hall story from my youth and when i retired to sample the youtube fare for “free movies” i elected a Whoopie Goldberg film “Kiss Shot.” I admire Whoopie for her independence and settled in to find it was about her using super poolroom skills at “nine-ball” to make her single-mother balloon payment. What are the odds that these two topics would intersect on the same day¿ i ask because i’ve managed data bases and have a working knowledge of the reach digital technicians had at one point in history, but can only guess at their “clickbait” skills today. Is it possible for today’s AI monstrosity to read an unpublished text file on my PC and correlate it to public domain fare regarding my viewing preferences¿ Or is it synchronicity of a more mystical nature that i could have engendered writing from my heart into the aether, a however unpublished aether akin to how Reiki is supposed to mend bodies across the metaphysical spectrum minus physical contact? I D K

I do know that the gazillions of bucks the ruling class is indebted to those whose wealth it actually is, can buy a whole lot of friendship in the context of today’s “i wanna climb to the top of the heap” ethos. Trying to figure that shit out is a fool’s errand of gargantuan proportion. Nor is it particularly interesting, i mean who gives a fuck if baldbezos is so sick that he would pay people to peer into private space to satisfy some _______fill in the blank kinky fetish. However just so we’re clear, that is not original thinking on my part, Leonard Cohen stipulated the conditions with his lines, “The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor, And there’s a mighty judgement coming, but i might be wrong. Ya’ see you hear these funny voices in the Tower of Song.”  I can only marvel at the odds of such an occurrence; sort of like having conscious awareness of an animation of the DNA that is uniquely my own at a time in the history of our kind when we may cease our multi-million year evolution for no better reason than greed - go figure ·

I’d rather link to the polar opposite of that consideration and posit to you who can read and suss at the same time; what would you do differently if you possessed the mythical magic wand - which BTW you do possess · this is not an academic question, but one i humbly suggest you explore post haste, at a time when even that expression borders on the arcane. Who would fuck with the post office - who does that kind of shit, and why do i feel like i’m the only one who cares? That is “angry making” language designed to illicit guilt for nothing you’ve done, but for what i haven’t done. It is similar to the gazillions of emails we each receive because these motherfuckers can’t or won’t think of anything better to spend the political slush funds on than the digital version of “junk mail.” It doesn’t have to be this way, i invariably feel better when i veer from my natural state of castigation, and explore how to convey to anyone listening how much i love them and appreciate their unique contribution to the skein of life that has become so fragile through no fault of our own.

It is for that reason i veer where possible from pointing the finger - the “you fuck” finger · which while providing a momentary feeling of having accomplished something, ultimately is nothing better than projecting the most destructive aspects of my interesting upbringing. I do not want to condemn you; i want to encourage you to see the remarkable spirit that you are. When you hear my “you fuck” voice, that is simply an echo from out of the caverns of my soul of an energy that tried to find residence but somehow was simply passed back out into the universe, hopefully somewhat attenuated by the loving language i try to find from my beaten-to-fuck existence. I came out of the womb folded like a "franks breech" pancake to a find a family of pretty people who had much worse problems than my dual-cyclops reality. Can you imagine, i feel guilty for not having the character required to comfort siblings who refuse me fb friendship¿ i am so confused?

In the end, it is not they who refused me, but i who refused them - it is an intractable however inaccurate sense of justice i adhere to · it is my monster ego which sees the pain they experience about my existence but which does not tender them gentle succor such that they can act on what i know is their intrinsic love. To blame them for my want is the equivalent of saying D.J._rump is at fault for the extermination of our species - he is not that powerful and his ideas carry no weight that i don’t give to him. He is more vulnerable than not to my love, my feeling of compassion for the suffering he cannot contain but acts on with such mindless fury to no avail; the only change he has accomplished, to my limited thinking, is to amplify a feature of our world that seems to be the only thing his pain can recognize - hate · i don’t like hate, so i basically do as any mindful parent might when faced with intractable unconscious demands of little use or consequence and point in the other direction: Oh Look ! is that a purple giraffe ¿!! Oh Girl, i don’t like purple giraffes; i LOVE purple giraffes - do you LOVE purple giraffes too ?!!! 

jts 31/08/2020  

http://stoanartst.blogspot.com 

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