Pudgy Indian

I am currently reading the book, "Native America Discovered and Conquered," by Robert Miller, assistant professor of Law and Indian Law Expert at Lewis and Clark College. The book is about the Doctrine of Discovery which is a series of papal bulls stating the alleged natural right of Euro Christians over everybody else and how it effected Indians historically to the present. Euro Christians gave themselves the right to take everything from those who do not believe the same way by use of force especially those that have exploitable resources. Robert describes how the Doctrine of Discovery became Manifest Destiny after the Americans took over the current occupational government in this nation. Americans then imposed a "final solution" for the Indians that brought about the general destruction of indigenous peoples in this nation by 98%.

Using the patterns created by the Doctrine of Discovery, it is easy to see that the same laws are being used to legitimize the U.S. war on the people of Iraq. The ideas have been given different names in Iraq like; "bringing them freedom and democracy" and "war on terror."

The Doctrine of Discovery is seen as an international law. The only legitimate laws are laws that can "be enforced;" stress on Force. The U.S. used its military might to force Indians to live under conditions imposed by their laws and used this might to legitimize their theft of our land, resources, culture, people, and crimes such as Genocide. Today, they use their political might and various policing forces to CONTINUE to FORCE Indians to live under those conditions in order to extract our resources and keep us oppressed. The same is being done in Iraq.

Imagine what it would have been like for Indians to watch their familes and friends die from deliberately set smallpox plagues or one of the many massacres enacted by this nation. Imagine what it is like for an Iraqi citizen to fear walking out of their front door. Imagine what it is like to fear that someone may invade your home with the use of force and kill you, hurt you, or take you away whether or not you did anything wrong. Imagine what it is like for Iraqi's to live under the conditions of a destroyed economy by an occuptional force that claims to bring them freedom and democracy. People in Iraq are FORCED to live under these conditions. NO ONE! should be FORCED to live under such conditions.

I participate in a weekly anti-recruiting vigil. One day I was asked by a blonde white male passer by, "Do you like living in the land of freedom?" Being a white male, he doesn't have to live under the conditions of "freedom" imposed upon indigenous peoples in this nation. For example: Indians were freely taken to boarding schools where they were freely beaten, raped, torutured, and murdered for horrific crimes such as speaking their own language...here...in the land of allged "freedom of speech." I don't live in the "land of freedom." I live in the land of privilege. For the freedom of others to be destroyed in order to protect my "alleged freedom" is not freedom, that is privilege.

I urge you to do your part to change the world and vote in this resolution. A vote for this resolution may not see real benefits right off, but it will be a step in the right direction for people to live in peace in this world, especially those who don't live under the condtions of privilege. It will be an inspiration to others to do their part if you do your part and lock arms the 268 or so other cities that have voted in similar resolutions. Lock arms for peace, my brothers and sisters.

I'm feeling kind of depressed today. But that doesn't matter all that much, if at all.

The question constantly on my mind is how do we change things in this world gone insane? How do we bring about universal health care? How do we bring about universal day care? How do we get REAL equal rights for women? And so much more!

Today I'm kind of depressed. But that doesn't really matter to me. It is something I can and will set aside and continue to try to figure out something effective I can do in order to bring about the change I believe this world needs.

We need to stop being cruel to each other, to the world as a whole.

I talked with Rhonda and I told her that I believe that the change we need in this world will come from the artists. She told me she believes the same thing. She asked when I made that realization. I made that realization while watching "Joyeux Noel." It was the Scotsmen playing a song on the pipes and singing. Then a famous German Tenor started singing Christmas carols, and the Scots played along on their pipes. Then the German Tenor stepped from his trench singing and carrying a small Christmas tree. Then there was peace that lasted a few days in that tiny horrifically war torn area on Christmas eve and Christmas Day of 1914 in France. It's the artists who will bring about change.

I also think of the movie "Scared Sacred," though the idea didn't occur to me then. There was an interview with a couple that lived in Sarajevo during the Ustashi's constant barrage of death that lasted for years under Milosivec. They survived and constantly created artworks in order to protect their sanity under these horrifically real conditions of constant fear. I want one of those pieces of artwork. I want a museum of art in war to create peace. I want a life of art that creates peace.

It's time to change everything.

Here is the Gorgeous and Beautiful Rhonda holding her newest sign creation. Sign up, boys and girls and get your parts blown off making already wealthy men much wealthier.



This is Deva and Elaine holding their banner which they do every week. Thank you Deva and Elaine.



This is Paul, another regular at this weekly vigil.

I have dedcided I no longer like the black recruiter I have talked about so much. I'm sure his feelings are not hurt by this. He has made it clear that he wants to go back to Iraq so he can kill more of his fellow darkies so that already wealthy mostly white males can have more wealth and he can get whatever gain he can from doing his part in causing great suffering in the world. What an asshole. Still, I don't plan on stopping talking with him.

I asked if he listened to Democracy Now. He said he is not political. I didn't talk to him much beyond that. He made it clear he didn't like our signs, as well as making the above very clear. Of course, let's not mention that it was politics that enslaved his people. It is politics that keeps his people oppressed today. It is politics that stole many votes from his fellow blacks in the military as well as civilians. But, why should he be concerned about that because he is creating his own gain by killing and making others suffer for already wealthy mostly white or white identified males.

Rhonda was interviewed live on KBOO at about 5:40. She is so awesome. My favorite part of the whole evening was as she was being interviewed, she walked inside the recruiting center and handed anti-recruiting information to a man who was being signed up while still on the phone live with KBOO. The woman is so fucking awesome.

Anyway, we're still doing this. Next Thursday a woman from Bandon will be up to do performance art on the streets with us. FUCK YEAH!

"Writing is a ritual through which spirits find their way home."
--Rudolpho Anaya

I listen to KBOO as it snows. I listen to stories told about Mexican immigrants dying in the desert, thirsty for water, hungry for food, hungry for a better life, laying before hungry coyotes.

I want to dance, I want to feast, I want to celebrate life for these and so many others who have died because of the corporations that greedily force them and others to live and die under such horrible conditions.

I want to change everything, do my part in the Revolution to make it so my fellow human beings do not have to die or live under these conditions.

I am privileged, I am NOT free! I live and work and eat and dance and Revolt and speak out and feel helpless feel scared feel stupid feel useless feel helpful...

I want it all back, and you should, too. I will not live forever, nor do I want to.

Today is a good day to die.

To day is a good day to be alive.

It is snowing here, while people die in deserts all over the world, not because they want to, but because of the conditions imposed upon them by corporations and the governments who whore for them (meaning no disrespect to prostitutes). Those same governments claim to be of the people while they create deaths of the people like those I listen to the stories of on KBOO and SO many others.

I want to dance, to celebrate for the dead. I want to Love and Revolt for the living and those yet to come.

Everything will change. I want it to change for the better. I want it all back! Let's get it all back! Let's take it all back! REVOLUTION NOW!

Nir Rosen, a journalist and writer who has recently spent a lot of time in Iraq, says Iraq has been "destroyed" by the U.S. You can read more about it at www.democracynow.org. He said Iraq is in total chaos and the U.S. presence doesn't mean anything there except more dead Iraqi civilians and U.S. servicemen. There is a civil war there now and it will still be there if the U.S. leaves.

The absolute horrible things I hear going on there, like six people being burned alive recently...I...FUCK!

Last night, I tried to imagine what it would be like to live in the constant "real" terror of someone kicking in my door, taking me or my family members away to be tortured or murdered. Not the American fear that some Iraqi may jump out from under my bed at any moment, but a "real" fear. A fear based in actual reality. I tried to imagine what that would be like.

Nir Rosen has stated that the U.S. has basically destroyed the Middle East.

Feels kinda hopeless, but I gotta do something. We gotta do something. See you in the streets at some point.

One thing Rhonda and I have in common is that we were both born in the same hospital in Coos Bay. It is now out of business as you can see in these pictures. I guess Ken Kesey owned it for a while and made it into some kind of commune. A California developer has bought the property and is going to turn it into condos. I don't know who'd want to live in condos in Coos Bay, but it aint my money.

These are the faces behind Genocide Cover-Up Day.

Richard Ullum, our engineer to the left.

Ani Haines, long time particpant, KBOO volunteer coordinator and well versed in women's history and current events.















Upper left is Courtney Herman, one of the film makers behind "Standing Silent Nation" about the White Plume family's attempt to reverse the Lakota genocide by growin hemp.

To her right, Warren Robinson, poet and all round good guy.

Bottom Left is my sweetie, Rhonda Baseler, genocide survivor of Karuk, Chetco, Tutuni, and several other nations, long time peace activist and all round wonderful human being.

Bottom right, the founder of the program, Theresa Mitchell, whom, 15 years ago as Steve Mitchell, started Genocide Cover-up Day.

I'm am not photographed because I didn't take a picture of myself.

We all want an end to genocide starting right now!

We just finished another good "Genocide Cover-Up Day" program on KBOO. Genocide Cover-Up Day was started some 15 years ago by Theresa Mitchell, and eventually taken over by me.

Genocide Cover-Up Day was started because the actual annual holiday of alleged Thanksgiving was started as a celebration of killing Indians. Theresa understood this denial and made comment about it and thus started this program.

This year we had different voices. I invited my sweetie, Rhonda, to be on the show and she gave her perspective as an Indian and a healer and a woman. Warren Robinson came down and offered up some poetry and his perspective as a Cherokee.

Ani Haines, volunteer coordinator and long time participant brought with her a woman's perspective. She is a witch and has a vast knowledge of the genocide of the women in Europe and how it has effected society to the present day.

Theresa Mitchell, the shows originator, had much to offer as well in just her few words.

Courtney Herman came down and discussed the issue through her film about Alex and Debra White Plume and their effort to reverse the effects of genocide via growing hemp to help the Lakota economy on the impoverished Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. The movie is titled "Standing Silent Nation." You can find it at www.prairiedustfilms.com. It is an excellent documentary.

We also had Robert Miller, author of the recently published book, "Native America Discovered and Conquered." It is about the use of the Doctrine of Discovery in the development of this nation through the figures of Lewis and Clark and Thomas Jefferson who is not really a nice man. Robert gave us an better understanding of its use as a tool of genocide against indigenous peoples.

Richard Ullum came down and engineered for us again this year. Thank you Richard. His support is always great and I am very thankful for it.

And all of the callers I thank you for calling in and offering your questions and comments, and all you listeners, thank you for listening. Share this information with others. Generosity of knowledge is as important as generosity in general. Share share share and soon we will reach that 100th monkey and EVERYTHING WILL CHANGE.

There will be pictures to follow in the next day or so as well.

Thank you all and do what you can to end the horrible crime of genocide. Do not think you can't. Your work is as important to this effort as the work of those famous for attempting to stop this global crime. Thank you!

Eugene Douglas Johnson
Itsu Tapi Kuwan (Lives by the Shore)
He Who Laughs A Lot

AUTUMN

A poet I never
met
said something
I don't remember.
His work, though...
Her words...

painted landscapes
gave me names
spoke of cultures
so foreign
and next door
and far away

Wind picks up thier words
fallen leaves in autumn
fear, terror, beauty Love
tragedy, triumph

Their words have changed lives

In the spring
Leaves will bud on the trees
again.


FORCE AND FREEDOM

Those with the guns
make the laws

It's time for something different.


INDIAN

I've cried tears
to fill
a winter
storm.

I've laughed so loud
it planted seeds in others

I mourn
like an Indian

I Love
like an Indian

I've danced
like a fool

I've hid in bed
and prayed for the day to end.

Life is Beautiful.


THE WRITTEN WORD

Those with the guns
have laid them down
and asked for something different

I laid my pen
in the crotch of the book
looked out into the darkness
at the trees
getting naked
to sleep during the cold
I pray

Pray with my pen
to the page
Pray for peace.


DRUMMING AND BOUNCING

Drops are drumming
from the gutters
a ball is bouncing

I wandered through a cemetery
this afternoon
The cold wet sky
released as I wandered
amongst the stones
lookin for something
familiar...

and maybe finding it.

The gutter drums
The ball bounces
Cars deliver the living
to their destinations.


ART

I paint the world
with words

Ace of hearts
rubber mallets
cobwebs
wet earth

Car delivering the matriarch
to her home.

My hands are words
ideas
on a page

Lately
I am seeing things...

Grandma, Grandpa, Dad!

I paint the world
with words

I am a poet

Democrcy Now's 11-20 show discusses security on a UCLA campus arresting and shocking an Iranian student for being Middle Eastern on the campus. They shocked him at least five times. Check it out. America at its best. And yes, the behavior of the security guards is racist. The guards who weren't white were definitely "white identified" as Inga Muscio, author of "Autobiography of a Blue Eyed Devil" and "Cunt" would say.

There is a little green but crawling around here this morning. Reminds me of "A Poet's Ceremony" when I wrote poetry at Chuck's place when I house sat for him last year. It's on this blog. December 18, 2005 I believe.

Oh, and like Robert Miller reminded us last night. The only law their is are laws that can be "enforced." The law of force. Bullying. What we say goes otherwise we will hurt, maim, or kill you. Do what we say. That's the law.

Goofy bug is crawling across the screen now.

Check out that video.

I sit in my truck, door open, listening to Isabelle Allenede on Democracy Now. As I look out into the world...is that a hair in my face? I pull my head back slowly and attempt to focus until I see a tiny spider starting to build a home in the upper corner of my trucks doorway. I interrupt the little spider knowing its home will only be destroyed and the tiny creature will most likely die. It rests on the fingernail of the middle finger of my left hand and it is Beautiful. I take it to the bare bushes and it eventually drops. The spider will have better chances there. I come back and write this story amongst the asphalt, radio, and random brown leaves of oaks and maples. Welcome to my country Isabelle and spider.

CRITFC has a new web blog about Celilo Falls. March 10, 2007, will be the 50 anniversary of the murder of Celilo Falls by the horrific terrorist nation, The United States of America. I can't wait for the first anniversary of the rebirth of Celilo Falls.

http://web.mac.com/fivecrows/iWeb/Celilo/Blog/Blog.html

My honey, Rhonda, and one of our mutual heroes the great, short, hardcore activist...Carrie Dann.

This is a picutre of Harry at Mt. Adams on a hike I did last summer on the North face along the Pacific Crest Trail. I'm checking about how to put pictures on my blog! I hope it works.

I wrote a short story today as well. Please read it and tell me what you think of it. It is titled "After One Comes Out from Under Their Rock..." Thank you!

"Left to Die" is a film by local activist Elizabeth Atly about the "Causeway Concentration Camp" in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

A group of some 20,000 people were forced and held their by WHITE heavily armed National Guardsmen without access to food, water, or proper sanitation, some people up to six days. They were all exposed to the weather. Many people died during this time. They were exposed to many toxic pollutants as well and were often literally facing down the barrels of the guns of the people who were there allegedly to help them.

The FUCKING Salvation Army would not even give a single ice cube to a woman to comfort her baby. That ice and the drinks therein were for those with the big guns. Salvation Army is still a fucking army.

The greater suffering imposed upon people who were already suffering is not something strange to the behavior of this alleged government. They have been doing this for centuries and will continue on into the future and it is about TIME WE MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!

REVOLUTION NOW!

Watch this film.

I was most offended by the Senator whose name I don't remember stated that concentration camps have "gas chambers" and he didn't see any there, thus justifying using his superior white man logic that this was not a concentration camp, but American business as usual considering the poor and ESPECIALLY minorities of this nation.

The film also showed an idiot white ass male republican commentatator piece of shit fucking moron inerviewing a survivor if she was offended by the comparison of this holding cell to Nazi Concentration Camps. HEY! STUPID FUCKING WHITE MAN! SHE DIDN'T COMPARE IT TO A NAZI CONCENTRATION CAMP! She simply called it a concentration camp, which indeed, it was. But white men always have to make heavily racist issues of oppression and state sanctioned terror and issue about their lilly white privileged asses. FUCK THEM!

Watch this film and let's do something about the oppression in this world!

When Rhonda and I arrived to do yet another vigil, her for 16 months, me for some six months, which we participate in every Tuesday afternoon, we started discussing ending this journey.

Initially there was a lack of response from passers by, and in fact, Rhonda and I were initially the only folks there which we found disheartening as well. We considered making this the last time we did this event.

We had to move from our place on the side of the street to allow a person to park, an elderly woman driver and a younger man in the passenger side. He got out and came to the driver side to help the older woman out of the vehicle. The both smiled and nodded at us. Then he walked up and told Rhonda and I "Thank you for what you are doing! Keep up the good work!" or something like that. Rhonda and I laughed at each other as we realized this will not be the last time.

The soldier boys were wandering about and I tried to make a bit of a connection with them. A new vigiler showed up, Christine. She held a sign with us. Then another new vigiler, a woman I didn't recognize, carring a white board erasible sign whose simple slogan I forget at this moment. Paul drove by and joined us, and then when I turned around I was surprised to see Deva and Elaine holding their large banner, "Don't Die For Lies!"

Rhonda had been discussing with me ending this project for a while now. It was funny that when she decided she didn't want to do it anymore and me, the one who always kept cheering her on at these times was even agreeing that I didn't want to do it anymore, along come a bunch of people and by the end, the support was even greater.

I was happy to see the young black man there, but unfortunately the recruiter was on crutches. We actually had a brief interpersonal conversation, bringing us to an understanding that neither of us mean harm to the other.

So, here we are. Still at it. Still dancing down the grass to make people aware of what else is going on around them.

We had worried that with the new alleged democratic congress, that people had come to a belief that it will all soon be over. Now, I believe, the people "won't get fooled again." (teeheeheeeheeeheee!)

After a lifetime of bland flavored grease, Shelly braved up and decided to go to the celebratory feast her friend Becca invited her to.

Having survived a long famine of flavor, she stood before the feasting table and was amazed and terrified at the foods she saw and smelled before her. There were vegie dishes, desserts, raw fruits and vegetables, cookies, meats, sauces, squash, mushrooms, cheeses, crackers, breads, drinks and many unrecognizable delights that intrigued and horrified her.

Shelly did occasionally have variety in her diet, but it was usually unappreciated and usually unpleasant for her. But this, this was amazing. There was Love all over this table. People worked for hours and in some cases days to prepare some of these delicious, and in some cases, unrecognizable dishes. And there it all was, tempting and terrifying her nose, heart, and palate. Shelly did not come from a family that cooked or Loved like this.

"Becca, I've never eaten like this," she told her friend.

"Enjoy!" Becca said with a smile. Becca could tell that Shelly was both delighted and disturbed and understood why.

"I know your diet," Becca explained. "I've been to your house. You may want to take it slow, here. I was taught by a healer one time that sometimes when healing takes place it starts out more painful but the pain goes away and the flow becomes good. Maybe it's the same with food? You're gonna open yourself up to new tastes, smells, and Love. Not always easy, but always good."

Shelly picked up a plate, then shyly scooped up a spoonful of wild mushroom gravy. She hated mushrooms, their texture and their flavor, so she thought if she was going to be adventurous, she should start with the dish that she recognized that she knew she would normally hate the most. She stepped back from the table and let strangers pass by, scoop up food with smiles and conversation and greet her. She would smile and nod at those that greeted her. She noticed that no matter how much food people took, there always seemed to be more.

Shelly dipped her spoon shyly in the gravy. She had a tiny half penny size of the liquid upon her spoon. She eyed it suspiciously, then realized, it really wasn't enough to receive an actual taste, the actual "flavor" of the dish, and there weren't any mushrooms. She threw off all concern about personal food safety, which was basically if it had "flavor," it wasn't safe. She scooped up several large pieces of waxy weird looking mushroom and bravely shoved the whole thing in her mouth. She removed the spoon quickly so that if she wanted it to be out of her mouth she would have to spit it out and embarass herself and the food preparer which she knew she didn't want to do. She left the food in her mouth. Her eyes half squinted then started to quiver as this horrifying strange flavor and texture filled her mouth. She started slowly moving the food around her mouth with her tongue and the strange flavors terrified her heart and mind but her tongue was oddly delighted and doing a dance. She started chewing and her body tensed at the strange texture of the delightfully terrifying dish. She crushed the mushrooms with her teeth, feeling the strange spongy texture in her mouth and against her tongue and her body tensed further and her eyes twitched harder.

It was like a wind of clean fresh air through cedars in the spring. Like the wind of flavor was coming down noisily from the mountains and then...then...THEN!!! CRASH!

It hit her all at once! Like a tidal wave of wind that she experienced on her camping trips by the mountain. Her body relaxed and there was a strange flood of energy into her whole body. Her eyes quit twitching and were now wide open with delight. She didn't think anything like this would ever happen to her, she didn't know what it even was. She swallowed and her body warmed even deeper. She scooped another spoonful of the wild mushroom gravy and shoved it into her mouth and was again delighted at its flavor and texture.

"Hello," said a young man who just appeared beside her. "You like that?" he asked as she was in mid chew.

Shelly looked at him and nodded shyly.

"I made that," he said, and Shelly was shocked! She didn't know men could cook like this. "It's an old family recipe handed down by my Uncle Robert. He used to live out in the woods and every fall he would make all sorts of dishes using wild mushrooms. This one was my particular favorite. I kind of made it my own using a few different spices than Uncle Robert did. Do you like it?"

Shelly nodded as her mouth was still filled with the food.

The young man smiled and continued down the line, forgetting his manners and not introducing himself to this stranger.

Shelly went wild, but controlled herself. She would scoop a new dish onto her plate, stand back and experience the new flavor and texture. Some she didn't like as much as others. Some were the most delighful experience in her life. A few she didn't care for too much. But each piece, each morsel, was a wonderful and delighful experience and she felt like she had been reborn into the world.

She saw Becca across the feasting table smiling at her. She smiled back.

"SORRY WE'RE LATE!" she heard a loud male voice. There were four men in skirts carrying a large tray with an unrecognizable steaming dish. Men in skirts! She wanted to look under them and suddenly understood the male desire to look under women's skirts. She delighted in their bare, pale, hairy knees. There was much fanfare by these men around this strange looking dish. A few brief speeches were made and a recitation of a poem, "Address to the Haggis," she heard it called, but could barely make out the words as the men spoke with some strange accent. Finally it was sliced open and steam poured out. A spoon was inserted.

People started digging in, and Shelly got in line with them. She scooped a bit of the strange looking steaming dish onto her plate then found a solitary space to experience this odd dish. She placed the hot food in her mouth and immediately thought "earth." Her face lit with delight like the sunrise through the cedars on the camping trips she had taken. Her spirit filled with the land and the people and she knew that from this day forward...she would never be the same.

I hung out with my roomies last night, except for David who was on his way back from a gig in Northern California. Lithuanian Cowboys, what can you expect, eh?

I was admiring Lisa's slippers. I have seen her wearing many different pairs of slippers and was admiring them. So she gave me a nice pair of purple fuzzy slippers. What an awesome human being.

It is really nice hanging out here. Lela and James are an awesome pair. They both make me laugh. Well, this whole family makes me laugh. What else would you expect from a family from the "clown culture. Yes! There is a clown culture."

And fuzzy slippers! Fuzzy slippers are awesome.

Let's not forget, folks. It is time for us all to take over the world. Every last one of us. It is time for us to claim our personal power and join together and get all the rich folks off our backs and stop killing each other. What do you say? Let's laugh and dance while we do it, too. Eh!? What do you think?

"LOCK ARMS! THEY CAN'T STOP US ALL!"

We'll call ourselves the "Loving/Lichtenstein Fuzzy Slipper Brigade!"

REVOLUTION NOW!

I've been thinking about the alleged "Eco-Terrorists" lately. You know, the guys that do property damage without causing any terror at all. It is such BULLSHIT that some of these people face 1000years in jail while George Bush, Donald Rumsfeld, Henry Kissinger, and other such horrific genocidal maniacs walk away scott free from their horrific crimes. It is good to be a wealthy white guy. Then you can commit such horrific crimes of state sanctioned actual terror and put people who don't actually commit terror behind bars for a 1000years while you are sipping margaritas in...where is it Bush had his piece of shit daughter buy land for him?...Paraguay?... Real criminals walk away scott free and successful, people who do property damage, 1000 years in prison...BULLSHIT!

And every promise is like a treaty. If the people came through that said they would be at my readings, buy my books, etc., it would definitely be paying for my cigars. But no one cares about poetry and when people show up, there aren't that many. I give up. They get me on the airwaves with little effort. The emotional effort, the amount of work that went into the book and into the readings, it's just too much for close to nothing in return. And I tell people I give up, the audience wins, and I'll never do this again. All sorts of advice comes out. There are all sorts of publishing alternatives things I can do etc., but I'm just not into it anymore. I'm done. I'm tired of all the effort and emotion and the promises and I'm done. It is a tool that doesn't work. I'm done. The audience wins. It just takes too much out of me when others and me put so much effort into something and promises are made and no one shows. I've worked on this shit for two years. Nothing. I'm done.

That doesn't mean I'll stop writing. That goes on until I'm gone. Maybe a posthumous message will be sent to the people and they will realize they have to power to change everything. They have the power to create a world that is good and healthy for them and future generations. They have permission and should give themselves permission to do so. Even so, these words will come to them on the airwaves. That is an effective tool and has been for many years. Time to put that word and voice out there energy into something else.

After hopping the bus to my current residence this morning, I caught a ride in with the wonderful and great Lisa Loving. Lisa is the PM news director in Lame Duck right now as she is resigning at the end of the month...sadly. It is tough work and has taken a toll on her, but she is awesome and wonderful and a great friend and has opened her house to me to stay for a month or so. One reason I Love KBOO is all the wonderful people here like Lisa.

I got here and had nothing for todays show. I had been busy getting my shit together for the reading I did last night that I realized on my way in this morning that I had nothing for the show.

Marcy Foster, a Native PSU student called and informed me that author and professor Robert Miller had written a book called, "Native America Discovery and Conquest: Thomas Jefferson, Lewis and Clark and Manifest Destiny." After getting the flier from Marcy about Robert's talk at the PSU Native American Community Center on November 20 at 7pm, I noticed he teaches at Lewis and Clark College (the irony is part of this, enit?). I called up about 45 minutes before the show and requested an itnerview. He called back, and guess what? David Liberty and I interviewed the man on the air. I gotta meet this guy, he does some awesome work. I can't wait to get his book and read it. It sounds really good.

Like clockwork, about an hour before the program, Leigh Anne had our bi-monthly announcements sent to me via e-mail. Leigh Anne is my friend, and I managed to drag her into the station and get her to volunteer. She is now part of the Bread and Roses radio collective and has done many radio programs on this station especially around issues of racism. Leigh Anne is a hero of mine and is so awesome. She does great work and is a great human being. THANK YOU LEIGH ANNE!

As I was getting prepared for the radio show, I heard from this little hallway where I am writing this now that "Utah Phillips is in the house." I didn't know he was coming to town. I had always wanted to meet Utah. I drove down here one time to meet him about three years ago (I couldn't afford tickets to see him) and missed him by about five minutes. I walk into the front room, and there he is. I shook his hand. He is a humble and wonderful man. We talked a bit. He told me of some of his work with the Dine back in the '50's. He told me that the name Benally means "grandson." He told me a little story about that whole thing and it was so wonderful. Emily Young, another wonderful KBOO volunteer, told Utah how she was in Vermont. He asked where, she told him, and he knew the place. Talked about being on a freight train just North of the town. FUCKING COOL! Then David showed up as Utah was on Robin Shante's show (another hero of mine), "Dharma Wheel." I asked David if he had ever met Utah Phillips. He said he always wanted to. I pointed into the air room and David got to talk with him for a few minutes before we went on the air. FUCKING COOL!

I met my second wife here...not so cool...but this is still the greatest place on earth. So many people Love this little radio station. When I gave tours to Eve and her children and Maya, they were both amazed that such a little place puts out such big radio.

I bragged about how our radio station has a little wagon with a coffee can antenna as a remote. How me and some volunteers rolled the thing across the Burnside Bridge to the May Day event this last may. How we sat that tiny thing in front of one of those hundreds of thousands of dollar jobbies that the major networks use. We have this little wagon, they have the hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment, we tell the truth as best we can, they distort the truth or lie. It makes me think of the Chief Joseph quote: "It takes very few words to speak the truth." It takes very little equipment to speak the truth on the airwaves. It takes a lot of expensive equipment to keep the populace misinformed and to manufacture consent. Then, while the music was playing, Bill, the man who created our little remote called and told us how he made the antenna to form a Peace Sign. Fucking awesome! This is, indeed, the greatest fucking place on earth.

I met my Maori Sister, Kelly Martin, here. We still keep in contact and encourage each other in our work on what seems opposite ends of the world. But the Maori have been world travelers for centuries. I'm sure her people and my people have hooked up at some point. Kelly is awesome and anther wonderful human being I have met because of this wonderful little radio station.

I wish I could have met Spalding Gray, who visited and was interviewed at this station some years ago. He did the film "Swimming to Cambodia." Gotta see it folks. You gotta see it. Unfortunately, he committed suicide before I could meet him and not long after the first time I saw that film.

I met my wonderful friend Julie Sabatier here. She was blue haired at the time and offered me a shoulder to cry on after my cousin was murdered almost two years ago.

Rhonda and I first came into contact at this station. After we got together, she informed me that she called and asked about a poem I read on the air. She asked who the author was and I informed her it was me. She was amazed and asked for a copy, which I sent her several weeks after she asked. Wow! I remembered that. Fucking cool! I Love this radio station. I Love my sweetie Rhonda.

Kathleen Stephenson is the AM news director and completely awesome. While I was still single, I used to come here in the morning before work and in the afternoon afterwork and Kathleen was here. She works a lot in this place. She has done a lot of great work in this radio station. AWESOME!

I met my friend and brother Jim Craven here. He has done so much good political work for the Blackfoot nation. He is so intelligent and well informed and has taught me a lot about this world. FUCKING AWESOME!

I do a radio program here every year called "Genocide Cover-Up Day," which I inherited from Theresa Mitchell, then Steve Mitchell. It is done every alleged Thanksgiving. This year it will be from 7am to 11am in which we open up the phone lines and talk about genocides past, present, and into the future. What it is, how it works, who it is happening to, who is perpetuating it, etc. Jim might not make it for this show, he may be in China doing political work. I hope to have Inga Muscio on and a fellow who read poetry on last years will come down as well. Leigh Anne may come down and hang out, and we will discuss genocide. What other station does this. Hey, maybe I'll call my friend Kelly and she can tell us of the battle of the Maori against the genocidal forces of the imperialist pieces of shit that occupy their land just south of here.

And the list goes on and on and on and on. There is so much to Love about this place. KBOO IS THE GREATEST FUCKING PLACE ON EARTH!

On Tuesday, the Democrats defeated the Republicans and have taken over the house and senate. What does this mean? Only time will tell.

I know the Dems have been working on being more republican than the republicans, but that just isn't working for the people.

Will people still be starving at the end of the month on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation? Will domestic abuse continue unabated? Will health care still remain in the hands of private owners? Will unions continue to be crushed and disempowered? Will war continue in Iraq, Afghanistan, etc.? Will global warming continue on its full speed course?

One thing I am happy about is that I was WRONG about the October Surprise. I thought it would be war with Iran. Maybe even a nuke. Didn't happen! But what will happen with Iran, now?

I hold only a tiny bit more faithe in the democrats than I do the republicans. I mean, afterall, look at Hillary Clinton and Ron Wyden!

Another good thing is that Rumsfeld has resigned as secretary of defense (offense). However, he has been replaced by a CIA man, Robert Gates, who is a long time Bush family friend known for collaborating with Islamic extremists, arming Saddam Hussein, and manipulating intelligence so Bush could start his illegal wars.

I don't know, folks. My only faithe in real change is if we overhaul the whole fucking system. Do I believe that will happen? Yes. Otherwise, I wouldn't do this type of work. I have faithe in the people. I Love the people. May the people someday Love themselves enough to create the change needed to help the world instead of destroy it for the wealth of the few.

Time will tell.

About three or four years ago, I started the People of Color Committee to help deal with racism; institutional, overt, and otherwise. People of Color showed up to the first few monthly meetings to make sure whitey's feelings were being honored and respected, and when they realized such was the case, I wound up being the only person at the last two meetings. I gave up. There is NO interest in dealing with racism as a group by People of Color. Why keep working on a project no one is interested in.

Yesterday, about 10 people showed up to my reading. That is about 10 more than showed up at the last one. This morning, as I've been sitting here, I realize that there is no REAL interest in my work. Lots of people like it, few are willing to buy and read my book, fewer are willing to come to my readings, so what's the point. This takes a lot of physical and emotional effort and there is no interest. It feels like a million pounds of effort for about a hundred pounds of return. What's the point? Why do I keep on doing this? Why should I keep on doing this?

Lisa gave me some good ideas on the ride in here from my current home, but the more I think about it, this is just too much for me.

I've had LOTS of people tell me of their interest in my work, promise to buy books, promise to show up to readings. If the amount of people I heard and was told would show up last night, there should have been about 50-75 people there. I am tired of this effort. There is no interest. It is not effective. It is, well, useless. Like the People of Color Committee.

I just chalk this up to another failure, and that is OK. That doesn't mean I'm giving up. That doesn't mean I'll stop writing. I will still do the radio show and TV show. It just means that trying to get my writing out there as something to substantially stand up on its own, gain peoples interest, and somehow change the world in at least a little way is not a realistic belief. It is taking a lot of emotional and physical effort on my behalf and it is not having the effect that I would like it to. There is no interest in it. It will never stand on its own as a substantial piece of work that helps the people because there is no interest in it. I give up!

I had fun reading. I had fun speaking out. It is all just so useless. I think I can find somewhere else to devote my energies to and be more effective at doing my part to change the world. Trying to get my words or my voice out there is just not it. I give up! I chalk this up to yet another failure. Failure is OK because amongst all the failure I've had, I've also had many triumphs. The ratios aren't the best, but it's those triumphs that keep me going.

So, no more readings, no more books, no video, and I am not going to make a CD like I thought about. It just isn't worth the effort because there is no interest. There will always be interest in the radio and TV show. That is consistent and effective.

After I mourn the end of this, I will put my feelers out there for other efforts that may effect change. It's a good chance that those too will be failures, but like I said, it's the triumphs that makes the efforts put into the failures worth it. I don't regret putting the effort into getting my voice and words out there. It's just not worth the effort when it is clearly and consistently a failure. It was a good effort. It was fun at times, but it is really just not worth the effort to me.

All the above words to explain just three..."I give up."

Okay, that fucking does it. I got to 39th and Burnside where I waited for the 20 for about half an hour, finally headed out on foot when it passed me at about 24th. I have to buy a fucking car.

I don't have much saved at the moment, but I should by the end of the month. I've been trying to avoid this, but this is just getting fucking rediculous. I have shit to do, and it takes so much fucking time and I can't transport a whole lotta shit in a bike bag.

It would also allow more time for Felicia and friends and all sorts of things, like staying dry while communting to work, as well.

I'm making the prayers now!

Nothing quite like a wet Indian.

Riding to work yesterday morning on my bike, the heavy rains just weren't soaking me enough. As I tried to avoid getting ran over by one of the few cars on the road so early in the AM, I looked before me on the road in the dark area of the street with no street lights and asked myself, "is that a puddle?" When *SPLASH*, I found myself going through a ten inch deep twenty foot long puddle. I peddled harder to make sure I didn't get stuck or fall over and made it through.

That is kind of like life. Find yourself in a horrible mess that is uncomfortable and slows you down, but you trudge through because you have to get to your destination and do what you gotta do.

Water is emotion, and I've been in the thick of it lately. Up and down, annoying, wet, trying to get through your day with this stuff all over you, but that is just what it is. In the end, you wind up dry and happy.

Then there is this horrible war. People killing people all over the place. People abusing people. People destroying other peoples cultures for the benefits of the wealthy. People killing peoples babies, mothers, fathers, etc. People killing, killing, killing, and nothing I go through is as horrible as that.

When we here at the bottom realize we are truly only killing each other for the benefit of the few wealthy, maybe we'll put down our guns and say no more, or turn them in the other direction and bring to justice those most truly horrific killers who are too good to do their own killing.

The rough spots in my life are nothing compared to those who suffer war and abuse. My issues are valid and important, and so are those who suffer under war and abuse. It is time to put an end to it and bring to justice those who are to chicken shit to do their own killing.

I guess that is all I have to say for now, and then...tonight...

On Wednesday, November 8, (Mine and Rhonda's six month anniversary), Eugene Johnson (That's me) will read his poetry at Grendel's Coffee House, 739 E Burnside. Hang on tight, it might be a bumpy ride!

Rhonda is back from Hawaii. I'll be seeing her this evening...WOO-HOO!

I went to a sweat on Sunday. Billy started asking about a man named Tim. Rhonda happens to be related to him and knows him very well. Which reminded me of something...

Sunday was also the anniversary of the first time I sat up all night. It was also the first time I met my friend Cynthia, who I fell in Love with at the time, but we wound up becoming friends instead.

Tomorrow will be mine and Rhonda's six month anniversary. Were it not for that tipi meeting a year ago...I was working on closing my heart that day. I never wanted to fall in Love again. That meeting reminded me what Love is all about. I'm glad I kept my heart open. I Love you Rhonda!

You gotta move.
You gotta move, chile.
You gotta move.
So come along,
get ready,
you gotta move."
[Old blues song.]

I moved out of Rhonda's and into the Loving/Lichtenstein residence last night.

Leas gave me a ride out to my buddy, Chuck's place, to borrow his great big fat huge truck so I could move. We all hung out and talked a while. I hit up Chuck for a fix on my cigar supply, and I must may say this of my friends: They have been incredibly generous to me as I deal with this move.

Leas, on his own time, drove me the 45 minutes out to Corbett out of his busy day so I could pick up this truck. Thank you and bless you, Leas.

Thank you Chuck! Thank you for the use of your truck, which I will probably get to borrow until this weekend. That is fucking awesome and generous and then I come to your house, hit you up for some awesome smokes and you offer them without a second thought. Bless you, Brother! We have been friends and have known each other all these many years. You are fucking awesome and I thank you. Bless you and your family!

Thank you Lisa Loving. When I asked Lisa a couple of months ago if she knew of a place in her area that was available, she immediately said without a second thought: "You can stay with us." She just assumed correctly I was asking for myself. Lisa and her family have opened their home to me again. Dammit! I'm trying not to cry. I'll cry in their sauna later.

I thank Rhonda for the ability to ask for her own space as she feels the need for it. She has offered me back to myself, and that not only gives her time to find out who she is, but time for me to find out who I am and what I'm made of. Although this is oddly uncomfortable, I recognize there is something in me I need to deal with. A few pieces of good and not so good things. Their are little pieces of my life I need to pick up or throw away. Thank you for not only having the strength and courage to ask for your space, Rhonda, but for putting me back in the position of finding my space and the need to deal with those parts of me that I need to, both good and not so good. Bless you, Beautiful!

"You got to move.
You gotta move.
You gotta move, chile.
You gotta move.
So come along,
get ready,
you gotta move."