Missing the cat


Seriously Clowning Around


The strands
woven though the days,
plucked from this and that,
once annoyed me,
now I worry that they will disappear completely.

A sound
that is not your voice.
The chores
small but persistent, no longer about you.
The view,
nothing to see
and no one looking back at me…

The wind once lifted the strands of cat hair and carried them like wishes.
Now it only blows.

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small doses of information for the idiots please

So, I recently learned many of the minerals used in the production of cell phones are mined by an enslaved workforce, many of them children, by those who wage war in the Congo. I am paying for war with the purchase of my phones, though indirectly, so are we all. How is this different from the sugar industry that fueled a new addiction for the middle class over a century ago?  I use sugar as a comparison because we were all healthier before we got addicted to that product that used slavery in it’s production.

Desperation and poverty might be the kindling for the fires of cruel regimes but one of the by-products is the complicity of the idiot classes, of whom I am a member.  I say “idiot class” because as North Americans and First Worlders (as opposed to Third Worlders, ack I HATE imaginary divisions for human conditions) we believe this sort of “thing” about a product we depend on (and yes we use the word “love” when we speak of our phones) this negative “thing” is something that doesn’t exist if we don’t think about it. Even better, don’t know about!

This is where I get preachy:

We need to repair not to replace our technology.  We need to share the costs of extracting the resources (and understand what they are, environmental, social, monetary) and we need to not supply money to those who enslave a workforce to pay for war. We have our potential as consumers to make change.  And as we are not really idiots, we can change the trend of consuming. We can make changes for the greater good. We have done it before and we can do it again. It can be joyful too, create all new ways of caring and sharing, unlike how I feel about my phone right now.


Staying vigilant that our representatives are navigating with clarity by the star of compassion, limiting growth and celebrating all success towards this end we can overcome our idiot class status.

Conscious consumption takes power from all devils big and small. Media consumption need not feed only our idiot need for a buzz, it can  inform us, in small doses, we are fragile after all…

Eddie the Dog and Blue Bayou Cat, Pan Dimensional Beings

I prefer to visit houses that have animals or children in them, of course humans too, this means I might get a hot beverage.  This weekend I was reunited with my brother’s cohabiters.  feb2017-138We bonded. But I didn’t feed them so it was brief. Spanning pan dimensions requires the intake of lots of fuel after all (and naps, preferably in the sun) so they aren’t being rude when they ask for food, just expedient.

The Things I`ve Seen Standing on the Corner!

Okay, the laughs are hard to come by these days but last week I watched a young woman with headphones on and her hood up (it was cold and had snowed the night before) walk along at a leisurely pace as a sidewalk snow plow continuously honked the horn at her, FOR AN ENTIRE BLOCK trying to get by her.
FYI: I now help texting people across the street as I count them as visually impaired. I have a great idea for improving the smart phone:  Put left and right turning signals on the side so other people can tell which way they are going to go!
Perpetually hooked up people are sensory disadvantaged!


Awesome cannot be diminished by time. It can only be rediscovered.  Hold on to this during times of extreme horribleness.

When we say someone plays a lot of instruments it usually doesn’t mean playing them at the same time. Unless it’s Rahsaan Roland Kirk (1935-1977). But this wasn’t a street performer gimmick. Rahsaan was a legend, a prodigiously talented jazzman, an inspired and soulful performer, a one man reed section, and a tireless innovator, adapting not only […]

via Rahsaan Roland Kirk — The Blog of Funny Names  If you can’t see the video here go follow the link to The Blog of Funny Names.

I like my space.

It is winter in this a northern clime. i am out every day in all sorts of weather jangled by traffic.20170121_135345

Don’t get me wrong I really enjoy being a crossing guard. But i also like being home. Watching the weak light as it moves, as it hits long and low this patch of wall and then this table, this object, feeling a sweet sadness, savoured for its impermanence and quiet stillness.

Not Knowing, I go on and on…

I am so happy to have undefined time!  Holiday!  One of the time wasters is following the white rabbit down that inevitable hole that is the internet. This morning, a Facebook spirit posted this:


It is a rehearsal with George Michaels singing Queens “Somebody to Love” (which is possibly the purest genius of Western music, just my opinion).  And there is Mr. Jones smiling in the background.

So that got me thinking about Bowie and the time I spent trying to look like him.  I spent some time during my teens doing a lot of psychedelic substances while wandering around back alleys with friends, who like me, had no place to go, their family homes having turned into fortresses clearly defined by their lack of comfort or welcome for the likes of us.  If we had become unrecognizable to our families they had also become unrecognizable to us. But we were seeking guidance from heroes who were children themselves, reading voraciously in a way our parents never had, Ken Kesey, Vonnegut, Carlos Castaneda, Solzhenitsyn, Tolkien, following Art and Culture, yet undefined, with a kind of devotion  found in cults. (No wonder our parents were afraid of us.)  But I was still just a girl, in love with a boy… so I looked up what I wrote about  David Bowie, here on LJ and found the following. (I edited a bit).

An artist questions… she is naked, so we dress her in what we understand, but we only show our own misunderstanding.

If we can bear the embarrassment, and this is the point when we can change, when we laugh and start open up; we realize we all are these frail and imperfect beings, naked in what we thought was our brilliance, vulnerable.

Our true brilliance is, …we are all like stranded aliens, homesick and searching. Looking for a name for ourselves and hiding in our lies. When a voice reaches out of the rubble left by our insistent need conquer anyone who questions us, it is a voice of pure desperate need.  George singing in joy, in desperation, “Find me somebody to love”:  These are the moments when even the Gods are gobsmacked.

And then I came to my friend (? I flatter myself), Sub Rosa, here on W.P. Her writing about art has challenged me in new ways and the work and writings she has exposed me to in her blog have lit a bit of a fire in me.  This poem is advice on how we keep the brilliance from shredding us to pieces. Have I reached the time when I can?

<a href=”https://omstreifer.com/2016/08/05/live-the-questions/”>https://omstreifer.com/2016/08/05/live-the-questions/ </a>

I will end here because I am hungry because I now know what my desperate need is, not someone to love, but something… I have to tighten it till it reaches the pitch required to achieve escape velocity, just for my own satisfaction, as if it’s all I ever wanted.

Because no matter how horrible we humans are we do our best when we are lost and on the brink of disaster.

And now, in addition, I come to the loss of Princess Leia, Carrie Fisher who so artfully made struggle for mental wellness lyric, and comic and true and made room for all of us to admit our vulnerability. When she was Princess Leia the boys pretended to love her tits, but it was her courage we all loved. As temporary as youth and beauty are, courage can grow and she showed us how.

(Side note, apparently sleep is the new way to stay young. Oh Gwenith Paltrow why must you?  I must admit I giggled a lot when I read that.)