I hesitate to peck away here for anyone but myself; me the person. I’m alive, and that is a miracle. I’m not arguing that choice is murder, or evil. Choice is choice. I live with it. I listen. 

      I listen to the unheard, I see the overlooked, I smell the rose...yes I have a rose, in bloom right now, in my garden ( unless the deer got it last night). The deer love roses, and the coyotes love deer. Now that we have rain, the deer and coyotes are in the hills. I think the rose is there. 

       I’ve done DC, and NYC, for decades that was me, listening, seeing. I was not unheard, or ignored. I was used, burnt, and used again. I volunteered. After early 1977 nothing I saw or heard was published. Not photograph, not a word, until Open Salon in 2009. 

       Obama. Eight years of  mostly fair winds for me, working a good portion of the country, and for the first time since Carter, feeling better about home. 

        A swan song, maybe. I’m not sure. I listen, I feel. I see. I see E as five and O as 15, but that’s just me, the person. I don’t expect anyone to see what I see. I also see five as E and 15 as O.

      I was killing fish for a living at fourteen, asea, covered with blood, following orders, mostly. I chose other work, and followed orders, mostly...Until I had the choice to give orders too, and I eventually opted for none of the above. 

        I listen, I peck away, I’m happier than I ever was. I don’t give or take orders, I volunteer.  Me the person is a product of our MIC, grateful to have survived the process of becoming a survivor of that process. 

        I don’t peck away for the MIC, or the shut down government, their toy. I don’t peck  for the haters or deluded masses. I peck for the fish, who I murdered without remorse, who have no voice, but listen, like the rest of creation that has so far survived humanity. I hear those fish as I saw them on my lap the moment I removed their guts, many decades ago. They have questions. I try to answer them, wouldn’t you?

         

       

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Comment by J.P. Hart on January 22, 2019 at 12:24pm

Figures of Speech — expressions in which words are used to mean something other than what they usually do. For example, “Life is like a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” This is a line from the Langston Hughes poem entitled “Dreams.” What is he trying to say about life?*

*Reading Literature ~~~ Prepared by: Beverly Reed

Not to be a pedantic dandy. (You know, the clock keeps ticking even without 60 Minutes) So is there delay with Wright Brothers Productions? I'll review the math when Brenda Lee is coming on strong...so we've what?! 56 weeks (one moment) to complete our 2019 (Movie of Year) {MOY} Right now I don't know if I should install my Nova Scotia driftwood as a mantle...get a hot wax job...a San Jose Sharks knit cap. I'd some bloodline trace with RR...as matter of truth...actually was invited inn. Luxurious V&T. Another grey midday. Gorgeous blonde big box 10 Key aficionado. Yeah ...the years roll along...

Comment by Robert B. James on January 22, 2019 at 3:57pm

Dr.Hart:  I justly or unjustly peck it out. You...are the Doctor. If I keep regressing I’ll be back to doe, yet again. Fish hear. Fish come when called. Fish know. 

Im 68 pages from RATHEONE, after MAHI hits 300 pages as promised to myself last April first already. I’m committed to making the Pinnox a legend, even if the son of a bitch is still alive. I didn’t become a historian to publish and perish. I think the feds might agree with me, or at least let me live long enough to finishit. 

As Ray would say...You know what? And then take that diner seat all over the world with you on it, with his back turned to the chaos of the dope market we sat in front of not seeing a thing, day in and day out. Just two motherfuckers sitting at a counter talkin trash. One fearlessly optimistic motherfucker, RaytheonE.  We walked in, and out never got shot at once. Go fuucking figure. Now that’s a movie. 

Springsteen? Never saw him once on the westside. The Boss? Lol. Pinnox got up and close to BS packing too many times to count, if he ever did at all. That’s the way stories go:  You listen, shut the fuck up, and go home alive. 

Pinnox knew. You know what? Me neither. I sat and listened, got up, out, and home alive...ever day. Does it get better than that? Yes, yes it does. It is  better. And so far I am damn alive enough to tell the story. You know what, Dr.Hart? 

Comment by Tom Cordle on January 22, 2019 at 4:18pm

One is accused of being a cynic and a pessimist if one cites the bard, "And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death", or Thoreau, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation". I choose to believe that understanding the true nature of one's possibilities/probabilities, and one's place in the space/time continuum, is merely being realistic. The trick is to find love and joy and purpose in one's life despite the fact that in cosmic terms it is meaningless.

I suppose that mindset is why one of the brightest lights on Open Salon once called me a pragmatic romantic. I'll take that.

Comment by Robert B. James on January 22, 2019 at 11:22pm

Brother Tom!  Right on. Consider fearless optimism...aka love and joy ...the end and beginning of everything. Every moment you hold that note, that is eternity. We get that grove kicking and all hell breaks loose, yes sir.  That is the number I’m marching in, be it just me, or with all the fishes in the sea, flopping around...well like fish do. In an era of mass delusion knowing one’s place in the universe is not the norm, or merely being realistic. 

In cosmic terms nothing is meaningless. Any point that has been properly realized can be returned to, and if it cannot be, well, then it was not properly realized. That is the test...And how sweet the sound, that note, tha place, that moment, the one you can return to, if you have properly realized it, infinitely. 

So you get there, and back, and get there and back again...well, the way I was taught that you don’t have it until you can teach it to someone who can teach it and then actually teach that to someone who can teach it.  It takes some real hard listening to get it, but that’s all it takes. Lots of listening. 

Comment by moki ikom on January 22, 2019 at 11:30pm

Fearfull realism has something to say for itself, unheard as it is.

Comment by Robert B. James on January 23, 2019 at 7:14am

Moki:  those fish were full of little fish...the little fish swam right through the two inch square holes in the nets...the fish in a frenzy chasing and devouring the little fish got caught by the gills. We could find the fish by the Raytheon or by looking at the gulls feeding on the body parts and airborn little fish. The big fish chased the little fish right into the air! Gulls could catch them mid flight.  They would not sit in the water on top blue fish...as they could be bitten easily in the frenzy.

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