Saturday, January 14, 2006
Holy Pants, Batman!
About a month ago, I spent the night at a friends helping her with her business products and talking all night long. As I headed over there after dropping my daughter off during the cold spell, I started feeling a draft in my bikini area only to discover a giant hole in my pants. It was a good thing I had my pajama bottoms with me.
So, over a period of a couple of weeks, the same three pairs of black jeans that I've owned for a billion and a half years all developed large holes in the crotch.
My friend Cynthia suggested it would be a good recruiting method to get women to come down and do Indian radio with me. She even demonstrated a few positions I could sit in for the best results. I joined in with a few of my own. ...yeah...anyway.
I don't give a fuck about Alito. In my opinion, it doesn't matter who they put in that position, the United States Government is still gonna be a bunch of wealthy white men creating greater wealth for themselves.
Mind you, yes, it is important that we try to stop this fucking demon claiming human form, but I want the whole system. I want it all. I want to create a new system that benefits all, not just the wealthy white men of this nation.
Yesterday, I bought a pair of bright red comfy shoes. Today, I am breaking them in. Today, I just don't care about my apprearance. I've gotten so tired of wearing sweats underneath holy pants this week with all this rain soaking me all day long along with the sweating involved with my work. I'm just tired of wearing that shit. I dug through the storage space in my bedroom and found an old pair of kung fu pants. I grabbed my stained Frank Salcido shirt, the one with the brightly colored horses dancing across my heart. My scarf and coat. And of course, my bright red comfy shoes.
Walking across the Burnside Bridge this morning, I notice how everything is kind of drab colored. Not that it's bad. It is very beautiful. Brown river. Wet everything. Dark clouds. The brightest thing in this world are my red shoes. I have to laugh.
Last weekend I met a bunch of former gang members. My daughters birth father is a former gang member. I feel safer with my daughter in the presence of gang members than I do in front of the cops.
It saddened me to hear the stories up in Tacoma of the Indians killing each other in gangs in that city. It is alleged that the cops don't do much investigating into these things because they get a substantial federal monetary contribution with every minority gangland killing. Indians killing Indians...it sounds like the good old days.
We all have to fight. We have to fight for health care. We have to fight at work. We have to fight the forces of the United States Government whose representatives we never get to see and who NEVER have a desire to live amongst the people they allegedly represent. We want to exercise our natural desire to be warriors. To prove ourselves. When we fight for health care but we find corporations don't have faces. We never get to stand toe to toe with congressional members who continue to oppress us in this alleged great democracy. There is a force occupying our land but all we see are the people and can't fight the faceless government. Eventually, we look to each other, and sometimes try to beat each other emotionally, physically, or even kill one another in order to exercise our warrior side. I watch it happen at my work. I'm sure it happens in gangs. I'm sure it happens in many other organizations. I'm sure it is a pattern repeated throughout our world. You can't fight this force that oppresses us because you can't see its face, much easier to fight amongst ourselves.
That's not to say that it is like that at all times. It is just a pattern I've started paying attention to. I pray that we can use that energy to fight the system instead of each other. Can you imagine the work all the Indians killed in Tacoma in this last year (3 in one weekend I've heard, some 9 or 10 altogether) could be doing? Could you imagine the pain in the ass they could be to the occupational forces of the U.S. government on our land? And what of those living? There are many more still alive who could use that energy to be a pain in the ass to the occupational forces of the U.S. government. Many do!
Like TV is so much easier than using our own imagination, fighting amongst ourselves can be so much easier than fighting the big monster. Flip the switch back the other way. Let's change the world for the better.
Sometimes I like to wear bright colors to pray for that bright energy in my life.
All those little details, some or all have meaning. What does it mean that I get a large rip in the crotch of all of my black jeans at the same time?
"FLY! BE FREE!"
yeah...uhhhhhhh...yeah.
It is also said that when one looks their worst is usually when one finds love. If that's true, when I walk out the door to this great and glorious radio station known as KBOO, women will be chasing me down the street like in those old Beatles movies...pay no attention to the fact that they'll be carrying torches, pitch forks, and axes.
So, over a period of a couple of weeks, the same three pairs of black jeans that I've owned for a billion and a half years all developed large holes in the crotch.
My friend Cynthia suggested it would be a good recruiting method to get women to come down and do Indian radio with me. She even demonstrated a few positions I could sit in for the best results. I joined in with a few of my own. ...yeah...anyway.
I don't give a fuck about Alito. In my opinion, it doesn't matter who they put in that position, the United States Government is still gonna be a bunch of wealthy white men creating greater wealth for themselves.
Mind you, yes, it is important that we try to stop this fucking demon claiming human form, but I want the whole system. I want it all. I want to create a new system that benefits all, not just the wealthy white men of this nation.
Yesterday, I bought a pair of bright red comfy shoes. Today, I am breaking them in. Today, I just don't care about my apprearance. I've gotten so tired of wearing sweats underneath holy pants this week with all this rain soaking me all day long along with the sweating involved with my work. I'm just tired of wearing that shit. I dug through the storage space in my bedroom and found an old pair of kung fu pants. I grabbed my stained Frank Salcido shirt, the one with the brightly colored horses dancing across my heart. My scarf and coat. And of course, my bright red comfy shoes.
Walking across the Burnside Bridge this morning, I notice how everything is kind of drab colored. Not that it's bad. It is very beautiful. Brown river. Wet everything. Dark clouds. The brightest thing in this world are my red shoes. I have to laugh.
Last weekend I met a bunch of former gang members. My daughters birth father is a former gang member. I feel safer with my daughter in the presence of gang members than I do in front of the cops.
It saddened me to hear the stories up in Tacoma of the Indians killing each other in gangs in that city. It is alleged that the cops don't do much investigating into these things because they get a substantial federal monetary contribution with every minority gangland killing. Indians killing Indians...it sounds like the good old days.
We all have to fight. We have to fight for health care. We have to fight at work. We have to fight the forces of the United States Government whose representatives we never get to see and who NEVER have a desire to live amongst the people they allegedly represent. We want to exercise our natural desire to be warriors. To prove ourselves. When we fight for health care but we find corporations don't have faces. We never get to stand toe to toe with congressional members who continue to oppress us in this alleged great democracy. There is a force occupying our land but all we see are the people and can't fight the faceless government. Eventually, we look to each other, and sometimes try to beat each other emotionally, physically, or even kill one another in order to exercise our warrior side. I watch it happen at my work. I'm sure it happens in gangs. I'm sure it happens in many other organizations. I'm sure it is a pattern repeated throughout our world. You can't fight this force that oppresses us because you can't see its face, much easier to fight amongst ourselves.
That's not to say that it is like that at all times. It is just a pattern I've started paying attention to. I pray that we can use that energy to fight the system instead of each other. Can you imagine the work all the Indians killed in Tacoma in this last year (3 in one weekend I've heard, some 9 or 10 altogether) could be doing? Could you imagine the pain in the ass they could be to the occupational forces of the U.S. government on our land? And what of those living? There are many more still alive who could use that energy to be a pain in the ass to the occupational forces of the U.S. government. Many do!
Like TV is so much easier than using our own imagination, fighting amongst ourselves can be so much easier than fighting the big monster. Flip the switch back the other way. Let's change the world for the better.
Sometimes I like to wear bright colors to pray for that bright energy in my life.
All those little details, some or all have meaning. What does it mean that I get a large rip in the crotch of all of my black jeans at the same time?
"FLY! BE FREE!"
yeah...uhhhhhhh...yeah.
It is also said that when one looks their worst is usually when one finds love. If that's true, when I walk out the door to this great and glorious radio station known as KBOO, women will be chasing me down the street like in those old Beatles movies...pay no attention to the fact that they'll be carrying torches, pitch forks, and axes.
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