But it felt like I was disappearing, So I ran to the mirror to check it out. I said, ‘Here I am, here I am, here I am” But why do I feel like the invisible man?
Invisible Man – Joshua Kadison / Painted Desert Serenade
It’s the morning after and I feel shorn
I’m tired as can be and the sunlight slays
I want to anchor my thoughts, but I’m just too worn
Can’t seem to see myself in my weary daze
A shade off invisible in my haze
Rubbing at eyes seriously blearing
I try to own it to the night in wane
As day breaks through the window pane
Murky eyes see a body with vision clearing
But it felt like I was disappearing
I decide that it just can’t be the case
It’s my mind taking a very strange flight
This disembodiment of my face
But I couldn’t shake it, try as I might
That I was disappearing from sight
I hold my hands out front with a doubt
But my heart lurches at what it doesn’t see
The empty pristine space that should be me
And I wondered what that was about
So I ran to the mirror to check it out
For what will I be when I finish changing?
My very thoughts echoed the patterns swirled
What’s the impact on my life’s current arranging?
Just whose vision of me was being unfurled?
Will I be fluent in hate or bring joy to the world?
It all just felt like it an incredible scam
‘For self is a sea boundless and measureless’
Woe be to he who believes himself treasure less
So I just couldn’t get with this new program
I said, ‘Here I am, here I am, here I am”
I can’t be enticed to be another subject
Another copy of a copy I can’t tolerate
In the spirit of uniqueness, this I reject
And just that quick came a feeling sedate
Beyond my core I felt the quiet panic abate
Solidified back to me in a moment’s span
I’m glad to know I am in fact all here
Still, I just couldn’t shake that feeling so queer
Nothing changed from when this all began
But why do I feel like the invisible man?
This mouth watering goodness is a simple glass of Thai Iced Tea. Usually I take drink pictures from the side, but this was truly a more interesting view. I’m going to consider this angle more often.
I understand many major municipalities police dispatch units are woefully understaffed.
I understand that dispatchers have a “script” they must follow, to get the pertinent information.
I even understand that dispatchers receiving crank calls by the dozens on the daily, can easily grow jaded over years of hysterical phone calls coming in.
Still, I have to say the seemingly complete apathetic attitude of the Cleveland 911 dispatcher regarding Amanda Berry’s frantic phone disturbs me.
Okay, on the reality side, I am not expecting any dispatcher to go all out ala Halle Berry’s character in “The Call”, so let’s not go there. However, a panicked crying woman tells she’s been missing for ten years, just became free of her abductors and needs help deserves more of a response than “We’re going to send them as soon as we get a car open.” and “Talk to them when they get there.”.
“…as soon as we get an open car”???? If Amanda Berry had not practically begged dispatch into sending a car immediately it makes one wonder just how long she could have potentially waited for assistance. Dispatch could have, and should have, placed her on hold as a car was sent out and then stayed on the line and talked to the girl, now a woman, until the police arrived. It was so clear Amanda desperately wanted to keep a connection to the dispatch until her rescue. Amanda desperately needed that connection, yet dispatch simply did the minimum, and dumped the call.
The way dispatch dismissed Amanda with “I told you they’re on their way; talk to them when they get there, OK.” sounded like an irritated parent, fussing at the child who keeps interrupting in the midst of watching a favorite show. You can all but see the dispatcher’s rolling of the eyes in annoyance. Can you imagine Berry’s confusion, frustration and fear at that moment as she was politely, but firmly being forced to hang up?
“…Check out the kidnapping in District 2…”
Even as we listen to the dispatcher transfer the information to have it processed, the complete sense of “whatevs” in the handling is near appalling.
To be on the fair side, Dispatcher Perdy (sp?), the dispatcher who took the fateful call, did her job. She took the call, got the pertinent information and transferred it to the appropriate party. That is all she is required to do. Yet, I pray no loved one of hers, if having a desperate emergency, gets processed in the same indifferent manner in which she handled Amanda Berry.
My God, all the things that could have gone so horribly wrong because of this dispatcher’s nonchalance. Thankfully this story has a happy ending, and bless you Charles Ramsey! Oh but, would I have loved to have seen the dispatcher’s face when the truth of Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus and Michelle Knight came to light.
The passionate call of the joined heart beat
Felt long past when the heart was nubile
The feeling of spring’s first blooms so sweet
The old memory that still makes me smile
It’s the urge at a concert to just weep
The comfort at night when I fall asleep
The piece that’s with me wherever I roam In the spirit of land, of heart, of home
The knowing when it’s my time to let go
After countless days and nights on this earth
A song on the end of the world I know
That began playing since the day of my birth
As my Deity holds my life in sway
I am drenched peace, as though it’s my last day
For I know I’ve lived the best way I can In the spirit of love to fellow man
The not so free will that brings me to here
Those voices of guidance to go or to wait
Gifts of inner light to make the dark clear
Past lessons that leads me to paths straight
The persons I feel when no one is there
When needed their presence snakes through the air
Their hands go right through me like ghosts and walls In the spirit of the ancestral call
A coat of many colors dark and fair
Sometimes it is sparse, sometimes it flows free
Those are my scarves and my rings that I wear
The glow of words that accessorize me
The trifle of rhyme that falls just right
The feeling that haunts “post this tonight”
Paint, pencils, pens and pixels I use In the spirit of the magic I call Muse
The delightful joy I can’t put into words
The raw anger growing above the din
The most quiet of calm I’ve ever heard
The connection of love with my close kin
The slow chill of knowing hell’s on its way
The warm glow of just being, that needs no say
And it’s to my core when I feel it In the spirit of living in the spirit
<>==========<>==========<>
Mountain Dew Drops “…the most racist commercial in history”
For those of you at work or on a device that can’t/won’t let you view the video, let me break it down for you:
In a police station, on one side of the one-way glass a battered white woman, on crutches stands next to a white detective who casually sips a Mountain Dew while asking her to “nail this little sucker.” Two other men, one white and one black, presumed to be fellow detectives, are also on their side of the glass.
On the other side of the glass is a line-up of all African-American male suspects. But not just your average Joe Blow black man, no. Each male exemplifies every inner city hip-hop/urban/thug stereotype a mama could ever warn her precious babies about, and a goat.
Yes, an actual goat.
The police detective tries to get the woman to point out her assailant “..the one with four legs”, but the woman is paralyzed in fear over whatever these scary black men, and a goat, have done and might yet do to her if she talks.
To further ensure her silence, the goat with the name card of “Felicia”, is portrayed with a deep speaking voice that sounds more like a pimp character from blaxploitation films than one would imagine say – a nanny goat would sound like, as he(?) utters encouragement such as “snitches get stitches, fool” and “Keep ya mouth shut. When I get outta here, I’m gonna do you up” until the woman hobbles out of the room in tears, screaming.
You just need to watch this hot ass mess to get the full impact, but I’ll go ahead and ask the question already formed in your mind, in some fashion:
WHAT. THE. FUCK?!?!?!
So PepsiCo, tell us again, how did this bullshit come about? Mountain Dew recently released three new ads featuring a crazed goat voiced by rapper Tyler, the Creator, who was also the mastermind behind the commercials. The goat is seen attacking a waitress after she gives him the soda, fleeing a cop after getting caught with a car trunk full of the soda, and then threatening that waitress from behind the window of a criminal lineup Tyler, the Creator is a founding member of the rap group Odd Future. Never heard of them? Neither had I and I apologize for ruining that particular peace of bliss for you. It seems shock and offense are the tools of his trade for Odd Future. Tyler, known for his violent lyrics (“You’ll see the meaning of stalking/ when I pop out the dark to find you/ And that new dude that you’re seeing with an attitude/ Then proceed to fuck up your evening”), the rapper is committed to crossing boundaries of taste and decency. It is members of the group who portray the human suspects in the line up. Odd Future is a group known for trying to provoke people with their actions. And provoke they did.
In just 59 seconds, the total running length of the clip, there is
Misogyny:
The sole female in the commercial is not a cop, not even a thug, but a beaten, abused, and likely sexually assaulted woman. Because yes, this makes total sense in a soda commercial.
African-American Misandry:
It this Dewiverse it seems all black men are either misogynistic thugs, especially in the hip-hop/rap culture, or the token brother, barely noticeably standing in the background.
Stereotypes:
Black man in the urban/hip-hop/rap culture all wear du-rags, gold front teeth, white t-shirts (generally under an over-sized plaid shirt), and go around abusing women, especially white women, every chance they get.
Racism.
What? Don’t you know only the ‘good ones’, read a non-threatening black man, who knows how to stay in his place just outside of the main spotlight that shines on the others, get to be in the place with the good, read white, guys. When the detective coaches her with “the one in the du-rag” the camera focuses on one of the human, though by this point we clearly understand the goat is the perpetrator. They are all are animals and look alike. (Think about it, what side of the glass was the goat on again?)
Yes, now that it has been brought to their attention on several fronts PepsiCo, has pulled the offensive ads from their site and their subsidiaries as well as have Odd Future remove it theirs. Yet, oddly enough the blame is not spread on the various ad execs who not only signed off on this fuckery from the concept stage and then gave it the green light to be produced and aired. No, the finger is squarely pointed at the black guy, Taylor the Creator, read scape goat – pun fully intended. I mean what’s the problem? If the black guy was okay with it… right? Because clearly not one of those ad makers were born and raised here in America and were totally clueless as to how such bullshit would be perceived. The ad-makers were very aware of Tyler’s music and decided to exploit that button-pushing. They absolutely knew what they were in for and wanted to to start shit—why? Just to sell soda – period. PepsiCo deserves to be taken to task for this.
Congratulations Tyler, you not-so-stupid fuck, you’re getting your Dew. I hope they’re aren’t using lube.
Tell us about a book you can read again and again without getting bored
— what is it that speaks to you?
I list Piers Anthony Incarnations of Immortality series first because his On a Pale Horse was the first book that I read, finished and came back to happily for several years after its release. As the remaining books of the series were released (Bearing an Hourglass, With a Tangled Skein, Wielding a Red Sword, Being a Green Mother, For Love of Evil, And Eternity, and finally Under a Velvet Cloak), the wash, rinse and repeat process would ensue. I know I reread at least one book from the series every couple of years. In fact, now close to – if not past, some twenty years after my reading it for the very first time, I think I’m ready to enjoy On a Pale Horse again.
Anthony’s Incarnations of Immortality world is set in a future, but parallel earth where magic is as accepted as technology. Thanks to various mythologies we are familiar with the personification of the concepts Death, Time, Fate, War, Nature etcetera, all of whom are immortal. The twist here is that the beings that hold these positions only do so for certain amount time depending upon their “office” and they are very human indeed. For example Chronos (Time), lives his life in reverse to the rest of the incarnations, his future is actually their past and holds office only until the day he is born. Thus, if he is say 49 years of age when he takes office, he can only hold the office for 49 years and then must pass the job to his predecessor. Each incarnation’s struggles/exploits with themselves, with the world at large and with each other as humans and as office holders to these supernatural positions make for some very interesting reading. Imagine God as an office that you’re voted into. Gives you a little something to think about there doesn’t it? I concede that the world, society in general, has grown much more sophisticated in the passing years since these books were written. Purposely a little light-hearted at times, yet still thought-provoking, the books may not hold up to the more jaded, serious-minded adults, depending on literary tastes, but many will still delight in them.
The Kushiel Legacy series by Jacqueline Carey is a different animal. The novels are split into three sets of trilogies. In publishing and storyline chronological order are Kushiel’s Dart, Kushiel’s Chosen, Kushiel’s Avatar – the Phèdre Trilogy, Kushiel’s Scion, Kushiel’s Justice, Kushiel’s Mercy – the Imriel Trilogy and Naamah’s Kiss, Naamah’s Curse and Naamah’s Blessing – the Moirin Trilogy. It is set in a detailed, fully developed alternate world very akin, but not quite like our own medieval past. This is a world of alternate religious, lands and people hold some similarities to ours, but not. Not one of the heroes or heroines is perfect, not even close it. What is moral for our world takes on a different context in this one. With “Love as thou wilt” as a blessed precept of course there are some damn good sex scenes tossed throughout, but the protagonist lives are very much full of war, political intrigue, magic and of course love. Carey creates faraway lands with their own characters, flavors and intrigues that excites and frightens, that draw you in always wanting more, but never becoming so far out of reality as to disdain believability and that is what works for me. In spite of their amazing adventures the characters here remain so very real.
I discovered the series when the second book was released. As I read Kushiel’s Chosen, I quickly became so enthralled with the characters that I bought Kushiel’s Dart because I just had to know the details of how it all began. It was not that I curious and wanted to know about the characters …I. Had. To. Know. I have missed many a train stop as I became entrenched in the stories.
I love the Kushiel Legacy series so much, that not only do I have the physical books at home, but I also have the digital versions as well. I can now pull up and re-immerse myself into the world of the Kushiel Legacy whenever I like. If you love the Songs of Fire and Ice (Game of Thrones) series, trust me, go to Amazon or Barnes and Noble and pick up Kushiel’s Legacy to tide you over until R.R. Martin finally sits down and finishes the next book.
Buzzfeed.com had an interesting post on “What Happened To Opera”. True to Buzzfeed’s style the article, while somewhat tongue-in-cheek, makes a damn good point and gets extra kudos for the Bugs Bunny reference.
While the opera productions have become bigger, grander, the singers themselves have not, at least not size wise. Here in America, as well as in other Western social minds, the fat body is considered unhealthy, abnormal, something to be ashamed of, not the socially accepted form of what is sexy.
Many opera companies, especially the smaller ones, struggle economically. And apparently think the solution is to behave like popular music labels and play up the sexuality of their leading stars. Singer Deborah Voigt, a leading dramatic soprano, was famously fired years ago for being too fat to portray a role as the stage director at that time had envisioned it. Voigt was eventually reinstated after she lost the weight through gastric band surgery. Yes, she states it was for her own health reasons, but no one can be blamed for the unspoken wink, wink, nudge, nudge that goes with it. Erstwhile mega operatic superstars such as Norman and Sills and Pavarotti would likely be hard pressed to keep their standing in this new aesthetic. This goes beyond mere fat-phobia into an analysis of appearance in music and theater that is depressing.
If the saying “It ain’t over ’till the fat lady sings” were to held to its truth, it would likely mean the death knell for opera. As with everything else there are exceptions to the rule, those whose amazing voices transcend the benchmark. Still, even those exceptions are growing smaller and smaller and not just in size.
It’s sad, but unfortunately true. Opera used to be solely about the singing. Now not only must the singers have the most amazing voices for the parts, they now must have the looks to go with them and therein lies the rub. There was ad campaign which queried “What is sexy”. And let’s face it, in this climate, the de rigueur definition of sexy = skinny.
The beloved image fat, horned-helmet Valkyrie, belting out Wagner, pretty much synonymous with opera, will eventually be as obsolete as the Beta-max. There are such amazing singers out there whose voices may never be heard because of this downsizing and we will never know our loss.
A nonce poem created by friend and fellow blogger, GirlGriot. An Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements. Though all of hers, so far, were left aligned and not rhymed, I took a little poetic license here.
Raivenne-lations 