Ugly Cat Speaks

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Fragments of Northampton

Here are some choice selections from my Moleskine journals that I write in when I hang out in Northampton. These are bits about my favorite city Northampton and everything and everyone in it. Watch for links to cool sites that may be related to the post.


8/14/2005
A black out on Main St -- Haymarket Cafe -- 4:30pm. The place got quieter. No power. Then, since the light of the afternoon still gave about as much glow as the incandescent lamps on each table, we went back to work.

Still no lights and the cafe staff take this opportunity to do some cleaning. They can't make lattes anyhow. The rain outside continues, as does the rumbling of the distant storm whose emissary has already made itself known. People look out the windows, trying to see how many other businesses on Main St are blacked out.

The air conditioning is noticeably gone now. Soon people will head towards the cool breezes of outside. They themselves creating some as they leave.

Then the word -- no power in Northampton. That means no service. The door gets propped open and the hard working Haymarket staff drinks their iced mochas while enjoying cigarettes outside.

Sirens pass causing momentary concern and relief. "Someone will fix this" satisfies the group conscience.

A man stands outside with a camera filming passersby. No artist can let an opportunity like this pass by. Consciousness changes during times like these. Societal rules are suspended, or amended, to include a more intimate contact. I can't resist the urge to be outside. Walking through downtown, not much is different. It's 5pm; shops appear closed, as they would have been anyway. Only the absence of streetlights and the presence of a standard issue officer directing traffic suggests something's not quite right.


8/24/2005
Yes, I cheated on you Northampton -- with two other cities. Can you sense that wistful look in my eye as I walk your downtown thinking of Seattle or Concord?


2/22/2006
The city lay before me, her luscious Main St wide to all-comers. My whore Northampton -- to whom I must come because I am weak in such desires. Somehow makes me feel as if I am unique, every time I am with her. I enjoy every inch of her, then, sated, I leave -- a little lighter in the heart as well as the wallet. It doesn't matter; she's worth every dollar.

8/6/2006
The figs have fallen in the Lyman Plant House. The bespeckled gardener waters the roots but leaves the fruit to make their way back to the earth. The water -- settling into dirt uncovering a musty smell -- drips from the branches, bubbles into the swell of the ground. I have found the Garden of Eden.

Butterflies and broken glass scatter around the railroad tracks where bums and teenagers still come to drink and not think about the future: Rail cars lined up waiting for their time to roll.


8/13/2006
It was the worst of insults -- the most disturbing and inhuman trick to play on another human being. He feigned misunderstanding with someone struggling with reality -- with basic human connection. She reached out of the rickety life raft she was in and thought she could grasp hold of this outstretched hand - but it was pulled away at the last minute. Her face contorted in frustration -- she had no other way to make contact -- and he knew just what she meant. He had probably been in the same boat at some point in his life and was bitter now that he was forced to swim.

She wore the ocean on her skin like a sanctuary. Sharks at her back, colorful species of fish on her arms and legs. On one leg a mermaid and eel wrapped around each other and her calf. The other carried an anchor that rested on her ankle. Always grounded, but choosing to be a fish out of water -- someone who will always be looked at.

Though I seem translucent -- I know I am visible. Strange poet girl in black and purple with jeans and soft, fuzzy cloth sewn to the hems so they flared. Writing, reading, stopping to write again as if it were medicine I needed to live on -- an inhaler for a severe asthmatic. When the world takes my breath away, all I can do is reach for my elixir. I wondered who out there captured me within their medicine cabinet.

I left Northampton with the same sort of regret I reserve for lovers and abandoned children. It hurt me to leave, but it seemed the best choice at the time.


10/21/2006
These autumn days are particularly hard -- and more so on a Saturday night in Northampton. The cockroaches (aka "non-locals") are out in full, as [NAME] would say. And still I feel if it is wrong to invoke his name. As if writing it somehow made me vulnerable again. Perhaps it is true. I still feel the pang of sadness at that loss. It feels as if I sold a family heirloom to feed my children. Certainly a decision I don't regret; but one steeped in sadness as well as necessity.

How many people sitting on public steps or sidewalks are poets and dreamers and how many have no place else to go and is there a difference?


11/5/2006
In the Haymarket today there is a Latina woman sitting at a table with a Latino man. They are dressed well and it is obvious they have a professional, yet familiar, relationship. Occasionally they reach out to each other during their conversation. Laughter is accessorized with a touch of the hand. What struck me most, though, was the determination and fire in the woman's eyes. She was discussing something she was passionate about. I could tell from how she carried herself that she was confident and well spoken. She trusted her ideas and enjoyed discovering new ones. If there is such a thing as love at first sight, I have found it in her spirit.


11/11/2006
Living Art Studio - It sits above Main St behind one large expanse of glass framed in neon and spotlights. The store's name refers to the body art they do, but tonight, with no clients, the bored artists entertain us simply by passing time.


3/11/2007
In Northampton today, I had forgotten how many beautiful women there are here. All shapes, sizes, ages, colors. Gorgeous, all of them!


4/1/2007
Northampton is a weird town, sorry, city. I just saw a man with a tall, spiky mohawk with a woman with hot pink pigtails wheeling a stroller with a real, live (and relatively average-looking) baby. There truly are all kinds of families in the world.


5/8/2007
Today I shared a sidewalk with the XIV Dalai Lama. I cannot begin to describe how I feel. The crowd outside the Hotel Northampton lingered long after he went inside. A local Tibetan woman was asked whether His Holiness would be coming out to speak. She said "no, but sometimes the mind is not ready to end the experience."

9/5/2007
At the Michelson Gallery

who doesn't like
a winding road
dirt leading
into a forest
or paved with fogged
headlights coming
from around the bend
the way it wends around
Nature herself
as if to yield to her
authority -- politely
side-stepping
the smallest of bushes
the gangliest of trees
it pleases me to see
the gentle grace
of such courtesies
so unlike the unforgiving
straightness of highways


9/25/2007
It's quarter to nine at night and 78 degrees. There's a full moon and all around me lost souls wander the walkways of Northampton. I am one of them. I am searching for something I don't know exists. I know from experience that when I leave Northampton to go home alone, I will be disappointed I didn't find it and relieved that I will be able to look again tomorrow.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

sadness visits

Even though I am focused on writing this novel (which is going slowly but at least moving forward) I can't seem to escape writing poetry.


sadness visits

tightness in the chest
pain in the center of my being
so strong I have to believe it is physical
fixable by something outside of myself

somewhere someone has a pill or
a needle they can stick in my arm
to make the pain go away
but it remains there hiding
in the folds of my brain
long after the drugs wear off

it sneaks into my consciousness
tricks me into putting it to sleep
because it needs me to be out of control
it feeds on the chemicals I give it
hoping to consume me completely

but I am stronger than it is
I learn how to starve it
to cleanse the poisonous thoughts
from every cell in my body
I finally wake up
and make it known
that I am not its home anymore

ltv

Friday, September 21, 2007

Thought for the day

Or the thought for a lifetime, wouldn't you agree?


“I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element.
It is my personal approach that creates the climate.
It is my daily mood that makes the weather.
I possess tremendous power to make a life miserable or joyous.
I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration,
I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.
In all situations, it is my response that decides
whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated,
and a person humanized or de-humanized.

If we treat people as they are, we make them worse.
If we treat people as they ought to be,
we help them become what they
are capable of becoming.”

Johann Wolfgang Goethe
(28 August 1749 - 22 March 1832)
German poet, novelist, theorist, painter, natural scientist and long-serving government minister of the duchy of Weimar


PS There seemed to be some confusion on the web over the original author of this quote, but it seems that this explanation rings true.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Arrr, avast me hearties! It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day. I'll spare everyone (that is, both of you who actually read this blog) the barrage of pirate jokes which all have some form of "arrr" in the punchline. And I will even forego an attempt to write this blog all in "pirate-speak". So, why mention the auspiciousness of today's parodic holiday? Well, as luck would have it, I am attempting to write a novel about...yes, pirates. Not in a saucy "Pirates of the Caribbean" way, though my first thoughts of the storyline was a cross between that and "The Princess Bride". No, this is a futuristic, ecological, and sort of anti-organized religion story. However, apart from that odd combination of ideas, there will be fighting, witty banter, good guys, bad guys and, hopefully a love interest. Well, really more of a disinterest in love, but can you blame me?

Since I have only just begun this endeavor -- and since I have absolutely no confidence in my skill as a fiction writer (having written only short poems thus far in my career) -- I will share with you only a brief part of what I have written so far. This may end up being the opening of the novel, though I reserve the right to change that if I end up writing something better later on.


Pirates Dream
by ltv

The door of the captain's quarters, which had been specially stolen from a monastery on what was left of the British Isles, slammed shut. The captain was an unpleasant man and after the war, when the religions disbanded, he felt it his personal mission to ransack every last shrine, temple, and monastery that had anything even remotely valuable or interesting. This door, made of some wood that the captain didn't really care about, was stolen from the Brothers of Creation who were a remote off-shoot of a religion that no one really understood. Their entire belief system centered around an Invisible Hermaphrodite who created living poppets out of clay and bone who eventually gave birth to all of Humanity. The Invisible Hermaphrodite (IH) kept these humanoids in a special garden where they would do whatever the IH wanted them to do. In fact, the IH had created lots of different types of creatures who also inhabited this garden and, for the most part, lived in harmony doing whatever the IH commanded. At some point one of the other creatures showed the poppets how to become self-aware and they had ideas about doing things that the IH had specifically told them not to do. They didn't just have ideas though, they made decisions and took action to follow through with all of these wonderfully exciting new ideas they were having. This made the IH so mad, not only did He specify a gender by which they could refer to Him when they cursed His name, he also became visible to them (just to make the point that He could still do whatever He wanted). The only thing the poppets saw of the IH, though, was a giant hand pointing the way out of the garden. This was the scene that was intricately carved in wood on the captain's door: two humanoids with their heads bowed low, an eel-like creature with a mischievous look on its face, and a giant hand pointing off to the side with the words BE GONE underneath it. Since this is exactly the sentiment that the captain wanted to convey to anyone approaching his quarters, he ordered the door to be removed from the Brothers of Creation monastery. It took five men to haul the massive thing from the top of the mountain to the ship docked at the base. It should have taken seven men, but the captain had already killed one for suggesting they build some type of cart in which to convey the door. The captain had taken this as an insult to his leadership and was small-minded enough not to realize that a simple search of the monastery grounds would have afforded them just such a vehicle. The other crew member in the landing party had managed to slip away unnoticed while the first was being killed and the captain was still so put out at the affront to his authority that he didn't notice until they were already back at the ship.

(to be continued)

PS: In case you're wondering why I would write about such a "delightful" pirate captain, you can be assured that this pirate captain is not the "hero" of the book. (My pirate captain is a woman who mutinies against this captain.)

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

ONLY RAPISTS CAN PREVENT RAPE

This post was originally found (by me anyway) here.

I think it pretty much says it all. (See the PS at the bottom about my Google search.)


ONLY RAPISTS CAN PREVENT RAPE

A lot has been said about how to prevent rape. Women should learn self-defense. Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. Fuck, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all. Instead of that bullshit, how about:

If a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
If a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
If a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
If a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
If a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
If a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
If a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
If a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.
If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
If your step-daughter is watching TV, don't rape her.
If you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
If your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.
If your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
If your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.
Tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends it's not okay to rape someone.
Don't tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape.
Don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
Don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
Don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
Don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can, too, help yourself.

If you agree, re-post it. It's that important.

Note:
This goes for any gendered rape, male on female or female on male or female on female or FTM on MTF or non gendered to dual gendered and so on and so forth....

-author unknown

****************
As a VERY disturbing side note: When I did a Google search on the name of this post to determine the author or any further information, this is what Google asked me:

"Did you mean: only priests can prevent rape"

Click here for Google results

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Stuff on my Mind Today

Recently, I bought a jar of organic peanut butter and, as I do with everything I buy, I read the label. I was shocked that it contained this warning: "This product contains peanuts." My first thought was "are Americans really that stupid that they need to be told that peanut butter contains peanuts?" However, an even more disturbing idea came to me later. Are there peanut butters on the market that DO NOT contain peanuts? I suppose it shouldn't really surprise me. There are fruit juices that don't contain fruit and bacon bits that don't contain bacon. Why couldn't there be peanut butter that doesn't contain peanuts. It makes me wonder though, who thought of making products without the main ingredient? I envision really high chemical engineering students up late on a weekend night craving something and only having their lab available to them. They say Necessity is the Mother of Invention. Unfortunately, in this country, the Father is Greed.

On a more political note:

Did anyone out there watch the "NewsHour with Jim Lehrer" with Gen. Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker last night? Here is part of the actual transcript from the program (Pay close attention to the freudian slip made by Gen. Petraeus which I bolded for emphasis):

JIM LEHRER: Now, General, back to Senator Biden again. He said again last night -- he accused you of spinning. He said -- and I quote -- "He was spinning" -- meaning you, General -- "He was spinning. He knows full well, in my humble opinion, he knows full well that what he was able to do in Anbar has virtually no relationship to what happened in Baghdad and the surge."

GEN. DAVID PETRAEUS: Well, the surge has not been just Baghdad. In fact, the surge has been about areas around Baghdad about as importantly as it has been about Baghdad neighborhoods. In fact, a number of the subsequent brigades after the first two, and certainly the two Marine battalions and the Marine expeditionary unit, have gone to the so-called Baghdad belts, including some of them in eastern Anbar province, because that's where al-Qaida had sanctuaries.

And this is not just about al-Qaida by any means, but they are, as we term it, the wolf closest to the sled, the organization, the terrorist group that has carried out the most horrific and most barbaric and most casualty-producing attacks. They are the ones who sparked that round of escalation of sectarian violence by the bombing of the mosque in Samarra back in February 2006.

JIM LEHRER: So you were not spinning; you were just reporting?

GEN. DAVID PETRAEUS: Look, my entire assessment, I tried to prevent -- to present the facts as we understand it. Our data has been collected. There's a methodology for it. It has remained consistent. And, if anything, we think we had more situational awareness because of just the sheer number of additional forces and the fact that they're living in the neighborhoods now where that sectarian violence, in some cases, is still ongoing.

For the full text of the interview check out the NewsHour with Jim Lehrer website:
Interview with Patraeus and Crocker

I don't watch the program enough to know Mr. Lehrer's interviewing style, so I can't claim to be surprised that he didn't ask Gen. Petraeus about the Freudian slip. However, I was disappointed that it wasn't pointed out at all. Maybe there will be something in the news today about the General accidentally letting the truth slip out during the interview. While I believe the General is trying to do his best job in Iraq, I think he may have orders from his superiors which result in his "preventing" the facts from the American people.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Peaceful Revolution

I was searching through some old emails on my computer today when I came across this "manifesto" that I had emailed myself from my former workplace. This is what happens when I get bored at work. I think it's actually not a bad start of something. Anyone else care to add to it or suggest changes?


(Originally written 5/23/2006)

A Manifesto for a Peaceful Revolution within the United States of America

I suppose this will have to do in lieu of something more formal. And yet, I am hesitant to even begin this here, now. The time has come in our country for a revolution. Major nations around the world are realizing the corruption and misuse of power found within our “freely–elected” governing body. Our citizens are being kept fat and happy with televised “reality” and the hopes of miracles and lottery winnings. We are kept afraid of the outside world by reports of terrorist attacks and threats, within our own country, of being labeled a terrorist sympathizer or simply “against our troops” if we even dare to contradict our government. Are the days of public raids soon to come? We are already subject to illegal phone taps, incarceration without hope of a trial, our civil liberties are being exported at such a rate as to be completely depleted here at home. What then are we to do? We must demand that these exports stop and our civil liberties – the freedoms our forefathers constituted – be returned in full to the American People.

How do we begin? There are several groups who have tried the administrative and legislative routes. Write or phone your Congressional representatives. Shall we also petition for the fox to stop guarding the hen house? It doesn't matter if all the chickens sign it if we need to submit it to another fox for approval. The days of silent protest, the days of civil servitude are over. We must act now, in person, in force, in peace, against the illegal government actions initiated and continued by George W. Bush, Richard Cheney, and a host of other players. We must put ourselves physically in place of planes leaving for Iraq. We must put ourselves in front of Congress, the White House, CIA headquarters, the UN. We must seek allies within the government in hopes of gaining information that will serve our cause.

And what is our cause? Our government will claim it is communism, no wait, that was 50 years ago; terrorism then. Will peaceful protesters lining the walkways and gateways to the White House be labeled TERRORISTS? Is that really possible now in this country? Hopefully not if we make sure that our goals and our desires are pure of heart by committing to NONVIOLENT, PEACEFUL, CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE.

Here is our manifesto:

Whereas the person currently serving as the President-Elect of the United States of America – George W. Bush – was erroneously given that seat against the popular mandate of the citizens of the United States of America;

Whereas the actions of the President-Elect have caused physical, emotional and spiritual damage to citizens of the United States of America;

Whereas this nation was founded by dissenting against unfair or illegal government practices;

We the people of the United States of America hereby resolve to reclaim the Office of the Presidency.

We further resolve that the Vice President of the United States – Richard B. Cheney – shall also be removed from office for crimes against the American People and the Office of the Vice President.

We resolve that a peaceful resolution to the current problems within our government can and will be found to remove the offending officers from office.

We proclaim that a resolution to the current situation in Iraq can and will be found so that the American and Allied troops can return safely home to their respective countries and that the Iraqi people can reclaim their own government and country.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Attempts at Poetry

I've been focusing a bit more on fiction writing but here are a few poems that are in various stages of completion.

I wrote this after reading this story: AP News Report

Second Chance at Life
(for Jennifer Sutton)

I flushed or fainted
from what I thought
was true love
overcoming me
but I was damaged
ventricles shrunk
weakened walls
failing to move
the essence of me
properly as it should

this odd-looking
lump of muscle
now on a pedestal
under glass
celebrated
for being replaced

ltv


Victim Assistance

do I have the strength
to face death
in the face of
someone I love

to see in their eyes
the desire to let go
and fight against
my own assertions
that Life in any form
is sacred and worth continuing

am I being cruel
to watch the contortions
that pain inflicts
upon a weakened body
though I take
no pleasure in doing so

does my suffering
as witness make up
for my inaction
to stop the torture

can I hide behind
the laws that protect
the microscopic assailants
am I free of the responsibility
of stopping this attack
if those that police these evil-doers
are beside me
having used up their arsenals

when we have no power
over that which causes harm
is it not more merciful
to stop the assault
by stopping the agony
of the victim

when there is no hope
that the attack will cease
or even slow
when what lies ahead
is continued pain
and humiliation from
unspeakable torture
do we have a duty
to the victim
to end their suffering
or must we soothe
our troubled conscience
with the false hope
the assailment will expire
on its own soon enough

perhaps we fear
what we do not understand
and would rather err
on the side of Life
however heinous
than be the cause
of losing it

ltv



A Map of Me

there are so many parts of me
I cannot name them all
some seem so enormous
others very small

a little girl afraid to speak
when others are about
seems so unlike the rageful Brit
who curses when she shouts

the crazy one comes out the least
but always when I shop
her paranoia permeates
until I think I'll pop

Edward is so arrogant
he looks down on other folks
Gertrude is the comedian
always with a joke

Emily is the mother
and the father I suppose
her soothing English accent
helps me to compose

there is another watcher
among this motley crew
the logical, unfeeling one
that sees I make it through

this one shows me answers
to problems the others bring
it seems to be mechanical
neither person, pet, nor thing

and yes, there are some animals
found lurking in the dark
the stealthy, cunning feline
and the pup who will not bark

there's a giant here as well
towering high above the crowd
a lofty, thinking creature
who never speaks aloud

some bits of me are hidden
so that even I can't see
whether they're from someone else
or somewhere dark in me

because they are so different
and I can't control them well
these disparate constituents
can make me feel like hell

so I've become a diplomat
my work will not surcease
I must continue forward
in brokering the peace

ltv

Rants and not Quite Poetry

Sometimes I write things that just turn out to be rants, other times they turn into poems. I think these are simply rants.


[untitled]

when the weapons
become so horrific
that they finally
are destroyed
what will the
evil-doers use
to attack us
planes, box-cutters
everyday chemicals

hatred cannot be
regulated by governments
anger is not calmed
by restrictions
and colored warnings

when the weapons
become our minds
our prejudices
our stubbornness
then our defenses
must become our hearts
our compassion
our openness

ltv


what do I want to say to the World?
nothing really
since the World won't listen
or perhaps can't hear
through the din of hatred
and filters of prejudices
We are all to blame
for turning this planet
against the natural axis
creating an unwelcome spin
on what is valuable
what is pretty
what power really means
there is strength in calm
the immolated Buddhist
silently burning in protest
achieves more than the rowdy mob
burning with anger
damaging their cause
and their surroundings
sometimes cliches are true
you get more flies with honey
anger begets anger
you get back what you put forth

yet we are surprised
to see the blackened air
the murky waters
the mutations of the flesh
the perversions of the mind
so many people being unkind to those they love
and apathetic, at best, to the rest of Humanity

ltv