Washington can often be a fairly scary place. The level of scariness depends often on the character of who is currently running the business here. Right now the scare level is pretty high, but not as high as it has been in the past few years, when the "loony" factor was probably at an all time high. I get frightened myself whenever I read about how much money is changing hands to keep the American Public in the dark or to keep the Present Leaders comfortably in their jobs for another year or two or three. It's just too bad that there isn't enough "pie" to go around to make everybody happy and healthy and fed, if not well, then at least adequately. It's hard to fund programs for the poor when the rich are making so much for themselves. I'm fairly certain that there ain't no limos in hell, so I guess if they're going to get their "cut" it has to happen here.

Stumble It!

He was just a guy with a tie that was too short. She was just a girl with a large purse on her way to find her car. They had a moment. He tried to catch her eye; she was aware of him looking at her as their paths crossed. She didn't look back, but continued on, knowing that he had touched her with his eyes and it had felt nice.

Stumble It!

A view from afar.

Stumble It!

It didn't seem that long ago when "4 dead in Ohio" was an outrage. Now it's 32 dead in Blacksburg. It seems we are getting better at this shooting of unarmed students business. This isn't something to be proud of; it's something to be deeply shamed by. Folks in Europe, on the other side of the Atlantic where guns aren't so easily to be had, legally or otherwise, think we're crazy. I can't at this moment say that they're wrong.

Stumble It!

Overheard on the street:
He said: "I ain't no playah, man. I ain't no playah 'cause I'm the GAME!"
He said: "I'm telling you, it's like the United States of Assholes."
She said: "I keep calling you and calling you and you don't never call me back!"
He said: "I think he should've stopped shooting after the first dozen."

Stumble It!

It seems to me that the only reason for being here is to get back to the garden. But, events like this week's killing news from Va. Tech make it so much harder to get there. Handguns are not going to get you into the garden. Killing anything is going to keep you from getting into the garden. Lobbyists are not going to get into the garden. Being involved in torture is going to keep you out of the garden. Being a corrupt and irresponsible business tycoon will keep you from getting into the garden. Enron executives will have to find a way to get along without being in the garden. Most of our current leaders in Washington and elsewhere will have a hard time finding a way into the garden after the mess they've left the rest of us. HipHop Shock Jocks are not going to make it to the garden, thank god! The ones who prey on their neighbors, the ones who steal from the ones who have nothing left to loose, the ones who target strangers in the dark of night, the ones who lead them into the darkness from which there is no return, the one who destroy faith, and love, and trust, and serenity, who foul the earth we live on, and dismantle the dreams of the young and hopeful will never return to the garden. This is reason enough to get there somehow.

Stumble It!

Poetry from email. Who knew?:

Re:

Beware of fake pills

Looking for gift?

Beware of fake pills

Or caryville each Eveleth

do urban as inconsolable

Are because centric?

Beware of fake pills

Separate yourself from other men

He christlike because explain

impressionistic redid

I because repairmen

You'll love the new, non-obese you

As prague a cataract

Which well were

Which well were

Stumble It!

It's always the same, every year. People get itchy, cranky, impatient for Spring to finally land here. The early blooms are up and holding steady, even though some late snow has fallen on them. They endure. The birds are suddenly everywhere and noisy, too. The Washington, DC robins look like they've been staying up too late, drinking too many beers, and eating too many Super Sized everything. They're impressive in their bulk, like sumo wrestlers with feathers. The air is cold in the morning, but warming by the afternoon to the low 50s. If there's a wind, you can feel it cutting into you. And you can see the anticipation in the faces on the street. Folks here want it to be warm and sunny and pleasant because Spring in DC doesn't last all that long. Before you can even digest the fact that Winter is over, Summer comes along and takes your breathe away with its heat. So you've got to stay alert here about this time of year, or you'll miss Spring.

Stumble It!

She said: "I honor no gods but the God of Small Errors and the God of Unconditional Surrenders, but I understand that every once in awhile someone will come along who knows something that is far beyond what any of us are capable of knowing and this person or spirit or whatever might take me by the hand and say to me: Walk with me a little while because I need to speak with you because things could be better than they are and you look to be in so much pain and I think that I can help you if you just walk with me. Look what you have unknowingly thrown away; Feel what you have lost; See how little is left of love. And I would go and I would speak and I would listen and I would be brought to understanding and I would know that this is not the only time that this has happened on Earth and that there have been Others and that They are all connected to the gods and to me and to the stones and trees. And after that I could say, truly, that I was there when Jesus walked."

Stumble It!

Nature endures. It's hard to see how, sometimes, but it does. It's Spring again, officially and sensually, and it's good. The air is warm, the birds are happy, particularly the wood pecker in the tree out front of our house. The breezes are gentle and refreshing; the light is strong. There is a lot of activity in our garden: "things" coming up in places that I can't remember there being anything living there before. I sit at my window watching a pinwheel stuck in a deck rail timbers madly spinning florescent colors into the air. It begins again, anew.

Stumble It!