Monday, October 31, 2011

Life in a Day

I just finished watching Life in a Day. I took a break from possibly coming up with a really great design idea to see life as it is. There are a lot of great reviews and responses to this film, so I’m going to skip that part. You can watch the entire film, read people's comments, and watch clips of the people in the video by going to this youtube video.

Or just watch the embedded video:


It's really insightful and meaningful in so many different ways. My top clips, in terms of impact, include the clip of a father and a son that starts around 9:41. It's kinda epic how his house is a mess and really resonates in me, because I can't keep my space clean no matter how hard I try!

Two clips, those of the killing of a cow and the killing of a goat threw my perceptions for a spin. And the last clip, of a girl speaking during a thunderstorm. That made me remember something. The clip starts around 1:29:17, there's a scenescape of what appears to be a city. Here's the text:

"July 24, 2010. It's nearly midnight now, and I'm running out of time to make this. I worked all day long, on a Saturday--yeah, I know. The sad part is... I spent all day long hoping for something amazing to happen, something great, something to appreciate this day, and to be a part of it and to show the world that there's something great that can happen every day of your life, in everyone's life.

But the truth is, it doesn't always happen. And for me, today, all day long, nothing really happened. I want people to know that I'm here. I don't want to cease to exist. I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that I'm this great person, because... I don't think I am. At all. I think I'm a normal girl, normal life. Not interesting enough to know anything about.

But I want to be. And today, even though, even though nothing great really happened, tonight I feel as if something great happened."

It's actually pretty nuts, that whole day in my past. After careful investigation of previous blog posts, IM chats, and other data on my computer. I realized, that on that day I didn't worry about being normal. I actually felt very unnormal, I felt totally un-independent. I was also kind of hungry because I only could afford Mac & Cheese and my one wish in the world was to own a loaf of bread. The only thing on my mind was working until I burned to the ground! I wonder if I would've made it if I recorded myself exclaiming that a loaf of bread would make my day.

Friday, October 14, 2011


I'm going for a long walk.
Long walk, away from this.
Away from you, away from everything.
I'm going for along walk,
past the horizon,
into the void, and down the ramp of illusions.
Don't stop me.
I don't know where I'm going.
But, I'm going for a long walk.
A long walk away from this, past entropy,
and down the spiraling road of deceit.
Don't come after me.
I don't know who you are,
nor do I know who I am.
Let me go on my long walk,
meet me where the path falls off
the face of the Earth and meets

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The Occupation Will Not Be Televised

***Thank you Gil Scott-Heron***

You will not be able to stay home
You will not be able to TiVo, Netflix, or torrent
You will not be able to hide in a forest with weed
Because the Occupation will not be televised

The occupation will not be televised
The occupation will not be aired by Fox
In three segments with Citi & Doritos commercials

The Occupation will not showcase the 1%
The institutions which finance them
And the parade of musician sellouts

The Occupation will not be televised
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Oscars and will not star Brad Pitt,
Jennifer Aniston, Freddy Prince Jr, or Sandra Bullock.

The Occupation will not give you booty
The Occupation will not make look like A-Million
The Occupation will not help you feel 10 pounds
Thinner, because the Occupation will not be televised

There will be no pictures of you and Obama
Pushing change through empty Campbells
Or trying to slide that wallet from your neighbor
PBS will not interrupt local programming
And TrueTv won’t make a fuss
The Occupation will not be televised

There will be no pictures of tits
Over the Americas in the instant replay
There will be no pictures of dicks
Over the Americas in the instant replay

The Occupation will not be right back
After a quick message of our sponsors,
After a quick message to spend your money,
After a quick read of the eviction notice,
The hospital bills and default loans

The Occupation will not go better with Coke Zero
The Occupation will not save you money on car insurance
The occupation will put you in the driver’s seat

The occupation will not be televised,
Will not be televised,
Will not be televised

You’re lucky if it’s upvoted, liked, or shared

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Dead Kittens Haunt Me

I haven’t seen my youngest half-sister. She’s probably a teenager by now. It always bothered me that she looks just like me, but I can’t really imagine what she’d look like now. Maybe like a teenager version of me… with lighter brown hair and lighter brown skin. Possibly wears a ton more makeup, etc.

She was in my dreams last night, well this afternoon. She was still the nine year old I met as a teenager. She walked into the bedroom; I woke up, and sat up. I opened my eyes to a raging headache. She sat on the edge of the bed and I noticed a small orange tabby kitten dragging itself across the edge of the bed. It’s little paws and legs were terribly thin, it’s stomach was full… but not necessarily full of food. It was starved, hungry, and miserable.

It’s eyes were open, so it must have had a some sort of nutrition. The sickening feeling of watching a kitten die paralyzed mind. My throat grew dry, clogged with the early sign of bronchitis phlegm. My thoughts wondered over to my sister, she just grinned.

I’m so happy to see you. Grin.

I looked toward the door as a man walked through. It was my sister’s mother’s lover. I screamed at him with my scratchy voiceless-voice. He scoffed and walked out, then my sister’s mother walked in. Her sneer and ill intentions apparent in her walk and eyes. I screamed at her too. That woman didn’t leave right away. She went off about some petty matter or other. My attention wandered over to the bed, where a black and white kitten lay.

I began to cry.

I tend to cry a lot in my dreams. Cry out, sniffle, bawl. Sleep is disturbing, so I like to do very little of it. Sleep is the one place where I can’t block out memories or strange thoughts. Like dead kittens.

We didn’t grow up with much. Some say that’s why I take more risks. However, we tried to have cats and kittens as pets. The story of a lower middle class (or higher lower class) family with 5 members and cats who kept reproducing goes like this:

  • No money for cat food
  • No cat health care
  • No health care for the family
  • Definitely no a/c to ease the Texas summer

There were many hot days. The ‘winters’ were abnormally chilly. I had recurring bronchitis. The cats that died during the summer died outside. The cats that died during the winter died on the chipped and fragile wooden floors of the bathroom. The cats that died in the spring died in my bedroom several days after being born on my bed.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Each In Turn

I once had a friend who I regarded as
The most beautiful cat I'd ever known.
She was my joy, always found
A purr to make me smile.

Recently she had kittens.
She made sure I was aware of them.
That first night I slept
With dreams of the cat's youth.

But, it has been days,
Not once did she feed them.
She never came near them,
She absolutely avoided them.

One by one they crawl, with eyes shut,
Each in turn crying out of hunger.
One by one they drag themselves,
Each in turn wailing for their mother.

I find myself penniless,
In no means to buy a thing.
If I could I would:
I would have helped each kitten live.

By day they cry each one moving
Their heads without sight.
By night they cry inching nearer
To each other for warmth.

In the morning instead of my
Alarm piercing my dreams
I hear the cries echoing in tune
Waking me to the reality

Before bed I sit on my bed
My bedroom lit up with one bulb
In the dark corner they lay
Feeling around with their nose

Crying, finding a piece of fur
Of their brother, sister but not
Their mother. In hope they cried
In tears I fell asleep

Their mother never there
To care for them.
The mother
The hero they all call for.

Each in turn crying to be heard,
Each in turn
Will breathe their last cry,
Then they will never be heard again.