The audio CD I listened to on my way back and forth to Boston last week was Tom Robbins’ Villa Incognito. I tend not to read too many male writers, but Tom Robbins and Terry Pratchett are the ones I read when I need perspective — the kind of combined comic/ cosmic view of life that is more humanly true than any factual narrative. Robbins, in particular, connects the dots of disparate (human and non-) lives in the same way that my mind tends to — although without his playful literary talents.
Like, just before starting the Robbins’ CD, I had been listening to the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, which is located in Botswana. (Actually Betsy Devine gave me a copy of that book last year; I started it and then got sidetracked. So, instead, I decided to listen to it on a CD from my public library as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep.)
In that novel, the main character talks about how much she loves Botswana Blossom Red Tea (which I’d never heard of). When I get to my daugher’s house, tired of driving and ready for a cup of tea, lo’ and behold doesn’t she have a tin of Botswana Blossom Red Tea on her shelf. That’s the kind of dot-connecting coincidence that makes me smile and feel that all’s right with my world. For me, it becomes more than a coincidence; it becomes a synchronicity.
Interspersed all through Villa Incognito are stanzas of a poem. I wish I had a hard copy of the book, because I would love to copy down the whole thing. From here, I found the last part of it:
Just because you’re naked
doesn’t mean you’re sexy.
Just because you’re cynical
doesn’t mean you’re cool.
You may tell the greatest lies
and wear a brilliant disguise
but you can’t escape the eyes
of the one who sees right through you.
In the end what will prevail
is your passion, not your tale,
for love is the Holy Grail,
even in Cognito.
So better listen to me sister,
and pay close attention, mister:
It’s very good to play the game,
amuse the gods, avoid the pain.
But don’t trust fortune; don’t trust fame.
Your real self doesn’t know your name,
and in that we’re all the same.
We’re all incognito
This piece on Villa Incognito from here says it all:
Observe: the first sentence of Villa reads,
Monthly Archives: April 2004
Another Big Security Issue
SOCIAL Security, that is.
Many of us have paid into FICA for years and are now receiving a Social Security check every month — and we are being taxed on 85% of the money we paid to the federal government to “put away” for us. As we approach the presidential election, it is as important as it is angering to review some crucial facts about the history of Social Security, which was instituted by FDR (D), and for which the premiums we pay were increased by Ronald Regan (R).
Q: Which party took Social Security from an independent fund and put it the general fund so that Congress could spend it?
A: It was Richard Nixon and the Republican-controlled House and Senate.
Q: Which party put a tax on Social Security?
A: The Republican Party.
Q: Which party increased the tax on Social Security?
A: The Republican Party with Dick Chaney casting the deciding vote.
Q: Which party decided to give money to immigrants?
A: That’s right, immigrants moved into this country and at 65 got SSI Social Security. The Republican party gave that to them although they never paid a dime into it.
Then, after doing all this, the Republicans turn around and tell us that the Democrats want to take our Social Security– and the worst part about it is that so many People believe the Republican lies!
Both pictures suck.
Little picture, big picture. They both suck.
I’m back from three therapeutic days with the cutest little guy in the world, as he lead me around by the hand and names all of the things in his world. Truck. Trash. Plant. Water. Elbow. Cat. Tea. Cup. Handle. Elmo. Tigger…… And, of course, his favorite thing in the world, vacuum cleaner, which, in his language, sounds like “mwaamuu.”
I’m back, in a better frame of mind but not much better frame of reference. I’ve contacted a Home Care agency to set up an evaluation and figure out what we need to make this work. Mom is on her feet, shaky tho’ they might be, able to get dressed and sit at the table and eat. I find that I’m distracted from whatever I’m doing at the time, whether it’s something for her or something for me. My own back is acting up — probably because I really want to “act up” and I can’t. I want to be bitchy and mean and self-centered. But there’s already one too many of those around here.
The Big Bush Picture gets worse and worse as well.
From BuzzFlash.
In his book, “House of Bush, House of Saud,” journalist Craig Unger lays out a compelling case that the Bush family is so inextricably bound up with the Saudi royal family that it could not hold them responsible for the role that many Saudi Arabians played in the 9/11 day of terror.
[snip]
In essence, the Bush Cartel has sold Americans a bill of goods. They have diverted our attention from the major nation state supporting Al-Qaeda because they don’t want to attack their own business partners, including the Saudi who bailed Harken Oil out. He’s the same guy that was deeply involved with BCCI, the corrupt bank that Poppy Bush and many of his cohorts were associated with. There are plenty more like him. Just read Unger’s book.
[snip]
It is hard to put your arms around the gravity of Bush’s betrayal of our nation. Americans just don’t want to believe that anyone sitting in the Oval Office, even if unelected, could be a traitor to the interests of his own country.
But, when it comes to Saudi Arabia, the Bush family’s business interests and personal relationships take precedence over our interests as a nation.
Remember, the Bush Cartel censored 28 pages in Congress’s 9/11 reports. The subject of those 28 pages was reportedly the Saudi financing of terrorist front organizations and “charities.”
Unger, a respected journalist, concludes that Bush must believe that “the billionaire Saudi royals are somehow more worthy of the government’s concern than are the victims of 9/11.”
“As above, so below,”.
Certainly seems so from where I’m sitting, so tired of sucking it up.
Meltdown
I left my mother’s house at 17 never to go back for a good reason.
A naracissist is a narcissist is a narcissist. Right to the end.
She’s finally tossed that back-breaking straw.
How much does one owe the person who gave birth to you and who, over the years, has probably given you somewhere around $150,000 to help you out with various life situations?
I think four years of the full-time and loving caregiving I’ve provided, only to have to endure the kind of emotional abuse only a life-long narcissist knows how to inflict, is enough. My debt to her is paid in full.
Now what?
My brother is coming up tomorrow and I’m heading out to my daughter’s for a few days. After that, who knows what.
Don’t expect anything here for a while.