Live and let live

Happy Thanksgiving. Celebrate all life, not just your own.

Watchful waiting in the Old Garden

Passed Eleanor do Antiga Jardim and one of her peachicks on the street the other day. She honked at me when I photograph them which is totally understandable. Also saw a black rabbit in a nearby park the other day.  She was also, understandably, suspicious of me, not that I meant her any harm but how could she know that? I'm worried she's there. Probably someone "dumped" her there. It's not a suitable place for a lone rabbit. I need to call the animal shelter. And on a lighter note, I saw one of the peacocks was standing alone on the sidewalk in the sun this morning. Didn't photograph him.

The mysterious "wild" Black Bunny

Doctor Miguel texted last night about 11 PM regarding the results of my recent lung biopsy. It does not appear to be a re-occurrence of the myoepithelial carcinoma so they are recommending watchful waiting. This means, another CT scan in three months and, if that's clear, we'll go to semester scans.
 

Paris bells - London fireworks

A long period of reconstruction lies ahead. Trump tore this nation apart in four years. It will take many more than that to heal it before we can begin moving forward again but, if we stay true to course, we can do it. We have to. The future of life on earth depends on us.

But tonight we celebrate.

All Along the Watchtower

Note to self....

Autumn equinox 2020

My eight-year-old grandson to his mother the other day . . .

Frank's flowers

"Mom, this is all so big. First the Covid, then the fires, and then my friend's house burned down." He proceeded to go into the yard, collect some flowers, and put this little bouquet on his desk."

Our changing world

Irregardless of what you or I may think is the biggest problem facing us today . . . whether it be Covid, or the economy because of Covid, or Trump himself, or Nancy,

Bones in the Desert

or Boris, or Vladimir, or Xi, or Bolsonaro, etc etc. they are not it. And, vile inexcusable and unacceptable as it is, racism is not the biggest issue of the day, or sexism. Nor is abortion, animal rights, free speech, freedom for or from religion, freedom to wear or not wear a mask . . . whatever, whatever . . . cause, right, privilege, power, belief, or hope anyone individually or collectively cherishes . . . with all those things still squarely on the table and more and urgent as ever . . . the greatest, most urgent problem facing America and the world, both human and wild, is our deteriorating climate. 

It's not happening tomorrow. Earth's climate has deteriorated to the point that it has now become its own cause. It threatens all life as we know it, not just the poor, starving, dirty poster-polar bear stranded on a chunk of ice that broke off a melting glacier. Earth's climate is rapidly deteriorating by the day, by the hour, and threatens all life on earth . . . yours, mine, theirs, its . . .  ours . . . because in this we are one.

Our house is on fire and we humans, the cause and only hope, are inside oblivious, arguing about other things as it burns.

Year 17

Corn Moon

Corn Moon is now high in the sky and
Barkie the dog has begun her nightly soliloquy.
First day of September
seventeen years later.

Morning rant

America is infested with fascists, beginning with our corporate overlords and their political wing, the Republican party . . . their media wing, FOX News . . . their army of battle-ready fascist cops protected by standard issue Get Out Of Jail Free cards   . . . their power-hungry colleagues, the racist evangelical churches, the party's foot soldiers, you know, that mob of ignorant motherfuckers worshiping Confederate generals in the name of Christian Jesus, those fucking alt.right vigilantes cheered on by the NRA . . . and the Karens and Kens of every color . . . fascist all. I'm done with all of it, all of it, all of it.

Where is America, shelter for those "yearning to breathe free"? Where is America, the "land of the free, home of the brave"? Fascists aren't free or brave. They are maggots fat on hate who scoff at facts and science, who think because their skin is "white" they are superior, or because there's a dick and balls hanging between their legs they're superior, or because they make a show of worshiping the white-skin version of brown-skin Jesus of Nazareth it's ok to betray their own ethnicity for a ride on the gravy-train. They're maggots thinking money and connections will forever keep them immune to the chaos they have created.

I'm done with the billion and trillionaire elites who hide in the ivory towers of their corporations then shove their US Supreme Court approved Corporate Personhoods into the world to do their dirty work. Corporate Persons . . . legal entities . . . created to absorb the consequences of criminal corporate activity, thus insuring the human power players remain above and beyond the law. I'm am so fucking done with them all.

The ultra-rich have turned America into a tax haven for anyone with enough cash and credit to buy-in. They are the ones who pay to change the law to fit their business plans and are draining the planet of its resources, destroying the beauty, poisoning the air, poisoning the water, poisoning the oceans, rivers, springs, lakes, wells, clouds . . . poisoning and eliminating top soil. They are destroying the very climate upon which life as we know it depends.

I am so done with the Republican Party and its president, Trump Corp, and all their climate change backers who live above the law in their corporate structures, skyscraper hideouts, island retreats, insider enclaves, underground palaces, international tax havens and whatever other fantasy worlds they have created to escape the consequences of their arrogance and greed.

There is, however, a footnote to all this.

Where do we go from here? It's chilling how successful the alt.right has been at brainwashing the unaware with their lies and loathing. I pity their obedient, hapless supporters who embrace wage slavery for themselves and their poorly educated children. I feel sad for everyone in America and around the world waiting for their fascist overlords to give a shit about them. They never did and they never will. 

It's heartbreaking realizing that collectively we humans have triggered a mass extinction on the planet, that all species on earth are being sucked into the environmental collapse with us. It's surreal looking through the web of lies America is suffocating in because . . . no matter what . . . no matter who or where we are . . . no matter what we think, feel, or believe . . . we are all in this together.


###

Ok. Sometime I just have so yell into the void. Rant over. I've included an antidote to all this poison below . . .

The Polite Press

 

Don Winslow, @donwinslow, just posted this video on Twitter. It's agonizingly years behind necessity but still an extremely important message.

I don't know about you, but I've been yelling THAT'S A LIE! at TVs, my laptop, and phone since Trump first came down that escalator on his way back to Hell but, on no! The Polite Press magnified his lies, paved his road to the White House with them. Poisoned and broke America with them.

Hey Polite Press! Stop being enablers and become the reporters you started out in life to be. Butch up! Get real! Take this son of a bitch on! Do it! Tell the fucking truth to his face, on camera, in print, every time he lies! Trump has no power unless you give it to him. This is war. Which side are you on?

Bird Park East - update

August - The highly rhythmic pomba (pigeon) chant was the first sound I heard this morning. It's a great way to start the day. I highly recommend it. I'm now on the balcony with my morning coffee, listening and watching pombas crisscross between trees and apartment buildings. It's nice being out here again. Earlier in the summer, I did my best to leave the area to the mother sparrow. She raise two separate batches of babies in the roof tiles and was fond of resting on the railing between feedings. She was very determined to keep their location secret. Even a look her way was enough to drive her off. The Waning Gibbous moon is visible in the windy morning soft blue sky. Swallows zig zag by. Chickens are clucking in the grass below. Roosters are hard at their usual crowing competition or whatever it is. It goes throughout day and is my preferred alternative to the now-noisy-again-world surrounding us. The friendly neighborhood fellow and his two white dogs are just now coming down the sidewalk on their morning stroll. The younger dog, as always, is on a loose leash and the ancient one, held together only by love, saunters behind sniffing the morning news. A couple of squawking parakeets just dashed by, a flash of green only. They are always off to somewhere else in the greatest hurry. And, most notably of all, Barkie the Dog barely barked at all last night. I remind myself it's not the new normal but it was damn nice.

Hands up. Please don't shoot me

How many have died with these words on their lips? Portland's Black Lives Matter's eerily beautiful protest chant evokes a haunting, and devastating question.


.Hands up - Please don't shoot me - Hands up - Please don't shoot me.

.Hands up - Please don't shoot me - Hands up - Please don't shoot me.

Happy 4th of July, America - Mask up!

Republican Pres. Donald J. Trump
Flag humper

For the past 50 years, Republicans have chosen either oil men or actors for Presidents and mostly elected Senators and Representatives who are racist and/or evangelicals dedicated to shoring up the crumbling legacy of the King/Priest rulerships of yore. As a result, America is now isolated from all it's traditional Democratic allies, as it slides into a corporate dictatorship run by men indifferent to the millions of Americans ravaged by COVID-19 while the President gallivants around the country at the taxpayer’s expense doing photo ops to feed his insatiable vanity.

Yesterday, America had the world's largest daily increase of pandemic victims, 55,000 reported in all, with 10,000 new cases in Florida alone.

Happy Fourth of July. Be sure to wear your mask and keep your distance.

Note to self - Stop playing Divide and Conquer

#1: Stop arguing.
#2: Silence is compliance.
#3: Blend these and change the narrative.

Midsummer Eve 2020

Today is the apex of light in earth's northern hemisphere. Given the pandemic, I'm not feeling particularly cheery at the moment but best wishes and good luck to you—whatever year you happen by.

Was it a mistake?

Gen. Mark A. Milley, was it a mistake or, now that you've given Trump his photo op, is this just camouflage? You fucking hell looked like the tool of a repressive, fascist government to me.

Silly questions

There's a lesson here . . .

Spider

I'm currently sharing my work space with a spider. I've explained to him that it's not a safe place for such a little fellow but he insists. He's spun a line from the main table to the tip of a pallet knife in a jar of pallet knives on a different table and has been coming and going all morning. I'm trying to be a good neighbor but am worried  this won't go well for him. I'm not sure he can see me, or if he does, what makes of me but he did stop and look at me as I explained the dangers of hanging out in such a cluttered, always getting shuffled around place. I offered to move him out with Plantie on the balcony but he doesn't seem inclined.


—UPDATE—
Spider
is now
making his way
out from under the glass

Worlds beyond the glass

Blue Period

It's not done but I'm now far enough along on the project that this morning, Swami, Juan Carlos, Molly, and I are having coffee and viewing the four panel I've been working on for that last few weeks, illustrations for a poem I wrote called Blue Period. M. has not been invited to the showing yet as he must finish his morning porridge before, in his own words, he is fully human.

Gary's good-bye

"Same. Smaller. Quieter."

That's how my daughter described her dad when I inquired how he was doing yesterday then, this afternoon, to the same question she wrote, "He died this morning. About an hour ago."  I wish he'd lived a happier life but his death was not as lonely as it might have been—she was sitting beside him—had been all morning—nor was it particularly sad, coming as it did after a long illness, cancer not covid.

So . . . yesterday afternoon as the nest full of baby birds under the roof tiles chirped away at the top of their shrill little voices, and I was painting an illustration for one of my poems while listening to music with headphones on, Gary dropped in from America to say good-bye. He was wispy and floating and mostly transparent (imagine something between a whitish horizontal veil-like form with flagella and a thin floating, mostly transparent sea creature) and kind of stand-offish as always, but he was there.¹ My eyes got blurry for a bit but I saw him clearly in my mind's eye . . . he in thin air, me in afternoon light, us remembering what our dreams had been back then (did he chortle?) and who we'd been for each other. We forgave each other. He lingered a few moments more then said good-bye.

Portugal . . . about an hour ago . . .

¹· No. I wasn't stoned or drunk nor do I claim this moment to be a "Fact". Just sharing my subjective experience.

One world

Believe it or not, care or not, own up to it or not—we are making this planet uninhabitable, not only for us, but for life as we know it. If we don't quickly and radically change the way we eat, live, do business etcetcetc— the environment upon which we all depend will collapse beyond repair. This pandemic can be a preview of coming events or a lesson we learn from. Which is it?

No events scheduled except the moon

Lovely moon last night. According to NASA, it was the Flower Moon and marked the fourth and final supermoon of 2020. It hit its peak this morning at 06:45 EDT but, like all full moons, also appears full the night before and after.

Image credit: NASA/Bill Dunford

Lovely day today. Lots going on here at the hermitage, aka apartment. I'm working on an illustration, based on Blue Period, a poem I wrote some years ago. It's written as four scenarios. I am currently doing the first one. It's tempura on cardboard and, at this point, it's become a conversation the paint and I are having. Yesterday was especially interesting. At one point, I realized I was just standing there watching the brush move across the page, leaving a new sky in its wake.

No events scheduled today

Bird Park East in general has been the happening place this spring. There are a couple of noisy nests nearby, one right above our balcony, one across the alley. It's great fun listening and watching the comings and goings. Also interesting, if not a bit shocking, I also saw about 10 roosters chase and jump one of the young hens the other day. Holy cow! Those guys are brutal as ducks. Poor girl. She was terrified. Not so, the seagulls I saw later that day. They were quite tender towards one another mating on the flat chimney top. Afterwards, they hung out together for about a half hour, nestling each other, nuzzling with their beaks, yawning, and looking around obviously relishing the quiet end of the day.

Higher Ground | Playing For Change

Change or die

Strange as this public service announcement is, people are cooperating and Portugal is crushing the curve.

Today's dystopian public announcement
during the COVID-19 pandemic

Chris Hadfield's
 astronaut's guide to self isolation

Thanks for saving my life

We began isolating on March 14. Before that, we half-assed it for a couple of weeks but on the 18th it got real. That's when the Portuguese President declared a countrywide state of emergency and asked everyone to stay at home except for necessary trips to places like the grocery, bank, doctor, and pharmacy. The whole country cooperated. I so appreciate that. As a result, Portugal has been very successful in blocking the spread of the virus and tomorrow we begin the first stage of loosening restrictions. Some, like social distancing, will still apply but certain types of small businesses will reopen. 

I've really appreciated this time. I'm a hermit by nature but have never been terribly good at disciplining myself. During these last seven weeks, I've been able to recalibrate, begin painting again albeit slowly, write and organize my work, see a little deeper, a little more clearly, focus, renew, identify. It's been enough time for new ways to present themselves, hidden things to surface, resolve, finish unfinished business, heal. Today, for example, an event in the distant past suddenly came into sharp focus and I realized I had an amend to make.

My ex-husband is dying of cancer. We haven't been on good terms for years but it wasn't until today I saw, no matter how he might take it, I had a long overdue amends to make. It wasn't the length of time that clarified my thinking. It is this extraordinary suspension of ordinary life that gave the waters time to clear. Today I asked my daughter to pass along a long overdue recognition. "Thanks for saving my life". The details don't matter. The fact that I never thanked him does.

In defense of pigeons

Picasso and a pigeon friend.

Dogs became part of our extended human family over 15,000 years ago and, in geological time, pigeons are a close second becoming part of our tribe a mere 5,000 years later. They are, in fact, the world's old domesticated bird. I think of them as the dogs of birds.

Research suggests the domestication of pigeons began during the Pleistocene era, some 10,000 years ago. They are memorialized in Egyptian hieroglyphs and mentioned in Mesopotamian cuneiform tablets 5000 years ago. They are very helpful folks. They were  humanity's first airmail service during times of war and peace. They are pets as well as mid-air aerialist able to fly upside-down and backwards. Some played ping-pong with behavioral scientist B.F. Skinner, others are doctor's assistants helping to point out cancer in medical imaging. Besides their other contributions to a better quality of human life, pigeons are sometimes muses for artists, poets, and musicians. Picasso did a delightful series of pigeon paintings near the end of his life which are on display at the Picasso Museum in Barcelona. An interesting side note about pigeons and art is that, with a little education, they've proven able to between the work of Picasso and Monet though I'm not sure anyone had a preference. 

Henri Matisse and pigeon pal

Pigeons didn't live in my neighborhood when I was a kid. I only came to appreciate them when I began traveling. They are everywhere I've been, whether Africa, Europe, Asia, S.E. Asia, the Americas. Now I consider it a good start to any day when the first thing I hear is their gentle cooing. What other bird does that? I'll tell you. No other.

From the beginning of the third millennium BCE, these "flying rats" as Woody Allen stupidly called them, have been humanity's symbol of love, peace, the soul, numerous religions as well the chosen representatives of various military, sports, and pacifist groups. The fact that pigeons are common in grungy human habitats like our polluted cities is not because they are dirty. It's because we are dirty. They clean up after us now just as they've been doing for the last 10,000 years.

In praise of the remarkable pigeon