Sensual Saturday with Amy Winehouse

June 15, 2013 at 6:43 pm (art, culture, entertainment, life, music, random)
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Who turned up the heat?

Please share your favorite Amy Winehouse song/video/performance.
O yeah, the book is cookin’.

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Duffy –Sensual Saturday Playlist

June 8, 2013 at 5:31 pm (culture, entertainment, life, music, photography, random)
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Sorry to post hit and run, but when you got to write, you got to write. Listen and love the Lady’s tunes.
namaste

4 Comments

Cloud Atlas — A lovely vision of how truly wonderful films can be.

May 15, 2013 at 6:41 pm (art, culture, entertainment, exploring interconnectedness, life, movies, music, random, Uncategorized)
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Having seen a few great, some very good, and many just good films lately and over the course of time, I can honestly say that Cloud Atlas completely blows every other film totally out of the water for sheer creativity in actualizing the potential of films for depth of narrative, visual beauty, acting and scope of vision.  It’s a truly beautiful film on multiple levels. If you have not yet seen Cloud Atlas then do yourself a huge favor and make time to view it as soon as possible.  It’s lengthy, complex, involved and demands complete attention.  I would love to comment extensively but that might limit your own acts of exploration and discovery while engaged with this piece of artistry. Yes, this is Film As Art and it’s quite incredibly spectacular!

Not yet interested?

Did you love The Matrix?

Are you a fan of Halle Berry, Tom Hanks, Jim Broadbent, Hugo Weaving, Jim Sturgess, Doona Bae, Ben Whishaw, James D’Arcy, Zhou Xun, Keith David, David Gyasi, Susan Sarandon and Hugh Grant? Imagine each playing multiple roles in multiple storylines which are all interconnected.

How open is your mind?

 

 

 

13 Comments

MIA content regarding Rape epidemic within Military, etc.

May 14, 2013 at 8:15 pm (culture, ethics, history, Independent film, life, movies, politics, random, Uncategorized)
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Okay, I surrender to the ghost in this machine and refuse to fight the edit blog post battle any further today.  While I’ve narrowed down the search for causes of earlier frustrations in blogland to this specific computer at my end, the reasons for such remain elusive. So instead of trying to force the program to do its editing duty properly,  I’m just going to yap in this post instead.

Yes, it’s been very quiet in my blogcasa since round one of “Breakfast Special.”  I confess that I’ve been wondering if further courses of “Breakfast Special” might be of interest to anyone wandering by.  Would anyone care to put in an order?

Frankly I think I’ve ranted, vented and held forth over time on most items broiling in my brainpan. Yet when Dirk Kirby’s documentary “The Invisible War” aired on my local PBS station via Independent Lens last night it supplied some motivational electro-shock therapy which prompted my earlier attempt at a blog post regarding the rape epidemic in the U.S. Military. I’d been aware of this issue for several years, but had no idea of the current ongoing scope and depth of the issue until viewing Kirby’s film.  While I’m aware that the violent crime of rape is widespread, under-reported and under prosecuted in America, I’d had not any idea just how callous the entire U.S. Military’s attitude is towards the crime in its own ranks.  Is this a logical consequence of the innate nature of the military itself as a vehicle for training people for combat that requires the death and destruction of other humans? Perhaps it is.

If so, why would any parent who puts forth the effort to raise children to be decent, caring, intelligent adults ever encourage their children to enlist in any military force? Why would parents want to have their children destroyed by a system which does not value human life?

I am at a loss for any rational answers to those questions and the host of others I have in regard to the specific issue of rape in the military and the institution in general.  It appears that being an “officer and a gentleman” is nothing more than illusion created by smart uniformed propaganda images.

Rape outrages many people when news of it surfaces in the media. The rapes of women in India have garnered world-wide attention.  People are appalled by rapes of children. Rape is recognized as a war crime.  No one seems to condone rape.  Yet it is a widespread violent crime which knows no social, political, economic nor religious boundaries.

Does the U.S. Military view the victims of rape within its ranks as simple collateral damage that is an acceptable byproduct of their own culture of acceptable violence?

Is this just a military problem or is it a human nature problem? If it’s human nature working out its dark side then what does it say about US?

Considering the recent issues regarding the Violence Against Women Act I wonder if we live in a culture which somehow deviously nurtures the act of rape.

Such is the current state of my brainpan stew. This is more or less the gist of the content which inexplicably vanished from my earlier post when I hit the “Publish” earlier today.

Anyone have any answers?

 

4 Comments

Rape–in the US Military by the US Military of its Own Soldiers by its Own Soldiers–The Invisible War

May 14, 2013 at 6:35 pm (culture, ethics, history, Independent film, journalism, life, movies, politics, random, Uncategorized)
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PBS Independent Lens –The Invisible War–

http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/invisible-war/

Due to technical difficulties some content is currently MIA.

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Breakfast Special

April 25, 2013 at 8:43 pm (creative writing, culture, entertainment, exploring interconnectedness, fiction, food, humor, life, random, Writing)
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Enjoying crunching the snow beneath his boots Sarge ventured along the street of small bars filling the west side of Schmall’s Falls lack of eating establishments catering to the needs of early risers, night owls, and swing shifters until Big Bob’s window sign on bright yellow paper touting “Sunrise Special: 2 eggs, toast & coffee for a buck” caught his stomach’s attention.

Entering the tavern currently conducting its own version of fast food service for the dawn dwellers. he stood to the side and held the door open for an exiting trio of grumpy construction workers. Toe kicking the rock salt from his boots he scouted for an empty stool at the bar crammed with white plates featuring steaming eggs, butter brushed toast and a constantly flowing, heady stream of coffee into squat thick cups vying for countertop space with slippery side dishes flashing crisp thick bacon and fat spitting sausages. After some careful navigation between the hands passing plates from the bar to the fully occupied booths, he managed to slide onto a still warm shiny red stool where the bar snuggled flush up against the far wall. Upon opening his paint speckled wool army coat, he generously contributed his share of body heat to that already creating streaking condensation on the bar’s large front window. He commenced pounding the alternate ends of an unlighted cigarette on the counter while patiently waiting for the barkeeper to take his order.

After setting down four full plates for the customers seated at the curve in the bar near the entrance, the lanky, middle-aged barkeeper smoothed a few slack grey hairs back into place with the rest of a backcombed wave and turned to make eye contact with him. “What it be today?” he demanded while wiping his hands with his waist apron.

Imitating the barkeep’s thick Polish accent Sarge replied, “Ve vant da special. Overeasy, if you please, Stanley.”

Smirking, Stanley nodded. “You gonna be a smartass today, eh? Forget it, Sarge. No mood for funny business.” Stanley scratched the order on a small pad of white paper, clipped it to the wire across the top of the serving window, then picked up the waiting filled order. Plate in hand, Stanley strode to stand across from the customer sitting beside Sarge, before setting down the plate, Stanley growled, “No mood for your funny business, either. F’n poached eggs. Not again. Messes up cook’s grill timing. Got it?”

A hoarse female voice croaked out, “You asked how I wanted ‘em and I told you. You didn’t say “no poached eggs.” Now you gonna give me my order or you wanting to eat them dead chickies yourself, Stan?”

Holding back a laugh in consideration for the barkeeper, Sarge watched Stanley scowl as he set down the platter covered with a double order of milky eggs whites wrapped around gentle hints of yellow yolk and perfectly browned toast drenched with melted butter. Right gray eyebrow arched high, Stanley silently filled the poached egg orderer’s cup with coffee. He started to work his way to the other customers, then, with the nearly full fresh pot of black coffee in his left hand he stopped and looked from Sarge to the customer sitting next to him. Stanley’s pale blue eyes flashed between the two. “You two at same time not good on Stan’s nerves. Don’t get any ideas or eggs go kaput!” Without waiting for a response, Stanley set about filling the coffee cups of the other customers at the bar.

Sarge leaned sideways to set his shoulder against the wall so he could turn and get a better look at the young woman sitting next to him.  The Hudson Bay Blanket coat cut in old French Canadian trapper style drapped around her shoulders immediately culled her from the variety of working girls who frequented the bar during alcohol serving hours.  It also separated her from the nearby telephone company’s swing shift working women. That left college student pulling an all nighter or some variation thereof. But the last wasn’t quite fitting the bill either in Sarge’s mind since there was no need for such creatures to venture off the perpetually buzzing college grounds for a cheap breakfast special in a working class bar.  Hoarse Voice was busy poking the pointed edge of toast into what he considered an obscenely salted egg yolk. “Having a little egg with your salt, huh?”

A mass of long black hair crackling with static electricity was pushed back over a shoulder hunched inside the Hudson Bay Blanket coat, then a white face, made paler from the lack of any real sun during weeks of perpetual snow, with assessing dark brown eyes turned towards him. She sipped coffee to mix with her mouthful of eggs and toast, chewed slowly, then swallowed, all the time staring directly at him. She sniffed a little, then said, “Yep. Three spoons of sugar in my coffee too. You wanna make something of it?” Caught off guard by the effect on him of the unexpectedly sharp lines of her cheeks and bold aggressive eyes, Sarge simply shook his head of brown shaggy hair in reply and Hoarse Voice’s attention immediately turned back to her food.

Sarge watched her small fingers set a fork to work covering a slice of toast with egg, fold it over and stuff nearly all of it into her thin-lipped mouth. More salt was shaken over the remaining eggs, more sugar, along with a very generous amount of cream, mixed with the new coffee that flowed quickly into her cup via the pot wielded by the quick sighted Stanley. Questioning his interest, Sarge continued his surveillance of her liberal saltings, pokings and smearing of eggs until his own plate arrived and distance required him to ask her to pass the Tabasco sauce. She complied readily then made a point of watching him rain red sauce upon his eggs until it pooled along the plate’s upward crease. Deciding to let her know he was aware of her watching him, Sarge twirled his fork in anticipation but turned toward her, clearly waiting for some comment. None came. Unable to resist, Sarge quipped, “What? Want a taste?”

She responded by looking his long broad frame up and down, slowly taking inventory of the well-worn jeans, heavy work boots and dark grey plain sweater. “Nope. Wouldn’t dream of depriving you.”

Sarge thought the better of uttering the sexually suggestive reply that skipped to his lips. He’d had a way too long night of loading freight, hunger for a great deal more than food had been gnawing at him for months, and he already knew his overtired body wasn’t going to settle down for the deep oblivious sleep he mentally craved. Instead of verbally needling the hoarse voiced woman, he commenced slicing and swirling his eggs through the Tabasco sauce and finally satisfying his stomach. Eggs, spices and black coffee worked their usual soothing magic.

After mopping up the remaining streaks of red sauce on his plate, Sarge took note of the departing early morning rush crowd, held up his empty cup for a refill then pulled a half read paperback copy of Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency from the inside pocket of his long coat. With the still unlite cigarette now resting between his lips, he pushed his plate away and flipped through the book. As he smoothed out the creased page corner, Stanley cleared Sarge’s plate and laid a cinnamon roll wrapped in a paper napkin on the counter in front of Hoarse Voice. Taking the cigarette between his fingers, Sarge looked up just enough to allow him to see Hoarse Voice’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Standing up she shucked her black sweatered arms back into her coat sleeves, hauled a thick orange backpack off the floor and onto her stool, fished out a man’s style wallet from the pocket in its flap, laid out enough to cover the bill and the  sort of tip an appreciative regular customer leaves, then yanked the Hudson Bay Coat belt tight enough to reveal a waist Sarge was frankly surprised to see considering the double breakfast special she’d just slammed down. Black straps went over both shoulders centering the pack. Her eyes slid sideways to the book in his hand just long enough to read the title as she picked up her sweet roll. When she pulled up the coat’s hood she caught him observing her in the mirror. She nodded at his reflection then turned and left.

Leaning back on his stool, Sarge watched her stop outside the tavern door while unwrapping a portion or the roll before walking off. He turned to lift his cup and found Stanley staring at him with a serious degree of curiosity as he poured himself a cup of coffee to enjoy in the current lull of customers. He set a side plate with Sarge’s usual sweet roll on it next to the paperback.

Sarge frowned at the barkeeper, shrugged then picked up his book. Sarge glared at the cover for a few moments before pulling a fiver out of his pocket and tossing it on the counter. Book in one hand, he grabbed the roll from the plate then made a fast exit leaving behind Stanley’s amused laughter.

Once outside in the snow hazy bleak excuse for morning sunshine, Sarge surveyed the street. Hoarse Voice was quickly jaywalking diagonally through the empty four way stop designated by red flashing lights.  With his longer legs all that was required was a slightly quicker pace to close the half block distance between them. Setting the necessary pace, Sarge took a big bite of the sweet roll, focused his sights first on the orange back pack then her black leather boots and went in pursuit of quenching more than what overeasy eggs swimming in hot sauce could ever dream of satisfying.

17 Comments

Could you survive on $250 a month? What if it suddenly disappeared? Welcome to the Pine Ridge Reservation, South Dakota, USA where the BIA is on the job–or are they?

April 23, 2013 at 7:50 pm (culture, ethics, Indigenous People, journalism, Lakota, Native Americans, politics, random, Uncategorized, Writing)
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What would you do if you were totally dependent upon a single monthly check of $250 to cover all your living expenses from rent, heat, electricity to food and then your check suddenly ceased arriving in your mail box without any explanation? What if you live on a reservation where there is 80-85% unemployment and your tribe is $60 million in debt? Add to the context the highest rates per population of child suicide in the world. Now imagine what goes through your mind when your single source of income becomes “invisible” and you already know you don’t have the gas to drive off the reservation to search for employment, you have no funds to find housing off the reservation, and you are the sole adult caretaker for your grandchildren.  What is now going through your mind at this point?

The following information is directly from Anne Fields who has been in direct contact with people on Pine Ridge Reservation who are currently in precisely the situation presented above.

Anne Fields:

There is a new situation on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota (and presumably on other reservations) that is very dire and perhaps life threatening.

I am a white grandmother who has spent a total of 18 months on the reservation, including four months teaching in the Early Head Start program.  I have friends who are directly affected by the problem and who are growing more desperate each day.  So far my efforts to find information or help for them have been unsuccessful.

Each month the Bureau of Indian Affairs has been providing General Assistance grants (see below) to many residents who are desperately needy.  On Pine Ridge approximately 940 people receive monthly checks of up to $250.  These checks are often their only source of income and their lifeline.

In December 2012 no checks came.  I spent several hours on the phone with officials at the local, regional, and national levels trying to find out what had happened.  Eventually I ended up at the BIA Division of Human Services in Washington where I spoke with Bevette Hern at 202-513-7608.  She told me that there had been new software which had a glitch that was holding things up. She said it was now fixed and that the Treasury would get a file transfer shortly and that the Agencies should have the money by the end of that week.  This did indeed happen.

But then in March 2013 again no checks ever came and there were no notifications to the recipients.  The Post Offices were besieged by people looking for their money.  No checks have arrived for April 2013 and folks are seriously cold and hungry.  They do not know if the money will ever come again. They have had no information from the BIA.

In an effort to try to get some information regarding these crucial funds, I tried to call Bevette to see if this is a permanent situation, only to find that she is no longer working there (even though her answering machine still uses her name).  I spoke with someone who would only give her name as “Roberta” and who said that she knew nothing about the details, only that the money available for “Welfare” has been cut back.  She told me that I needed to talk to the BIA Great Plains Social Services in Aberdeen, SD.  I called them at 605-226-7351 and spoke with “Patti.”  She told me that Central Office has not received any funds so they have nothing to give out.  She recommended that I talk to the folks in Washington–the same people who directed me to call her office.

I have written to South Dakota Congresswoman Noem and Senators Johnson and Thune for clarification, but as of now I have heard nothing back from any of them.

BIA Human Services handles 6 components of Financial Assistance, which consist of:

1. General Assistance

a) An applicant must meet the criteria contained in 25 CFR 20.300 (Who qualifies for Direct Assistance)
b) Apply concurrently for financial assistance from other state, tribal, county, local, or other federal agency programs for which he/she is eligible;
c) Not receive any comparable public assistance, and
d) Develop and sign an employment strategy in the ISP with the assistance of the social service

worker to meet the goal of employment through specific action steps including job readiness and job search activities.

source: http://www.bia.gov/WhoWeAre/RegionalOffices/GreatPlains

So, what should Anne Fields and these 940 people on Pine Ridge Reservation DO to get some information from the BIA and/or the Federal Government?  Any suggestions? Even if you have no notions about how to deal with this continuing situation, please take a moment to send this information via your favorite internet social network sharing options.

Namaste.

3 Comments

“lights out”

April 22, 2013 at 2:57 pm (creative writing, culture, exploring interconnectedness, life, poetry, random, Writing)
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candle lights marks

open doorway

entering you

linger

whispering

snuffing the wick

melting into darkness

exiting footprints in the night snow

 

 

2 Comments

“fate?”

April 17, 2013 at 5:39 pm (creative writing, culture, exploring interconnectedness, life, poetry, random, Writing)
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****

in fog

water hangs waiting

dancing between globes

we meet

inclination not required

****

6 Comments

Learning Opportunity: Nature’s “What Plants Talk About”

April 4, 2013 at 6:20 pm (art, buddhism, education, environment, exploring interconnectedness, life, nature, photography, random, Uncategorized)
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Okay, I’m not the most sociable human at the present time so I’ve not been playing much in blogland.  While I’m not about to commence running rampant from blogcasa to blogcasa, I really want to share this recent Nature program with anyone interested in the interconnectedness of all things.  What Plants Talk About offers some incredible insights into the living Earth we call home. I think it also serves as a huge positive statement regarding why we MUST preserve the ‘natural’ environment widely and learn to re-integrate our human species with our plant and animal relations quickly in order to ensure our own survival. If we don’t, I suspect we may find Earth less than welcoming of our continued presence.  Mother Nature will find a way to deal with us as hostile creatures and create a new healthy balance.  No, I’m not kidding.

The full episode of What Plants Talk About is currently available for viewing http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/what-plants-talk-about/video-full-episode/8243/

It is very well worth an hour of your time to watch and learn what’s going on with all the leafy green things above and below ground. This is a very accessible program about some serious science. It’s also features beautiful photographic film work.

 

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