Road Justice on I-80

I-80.

Danville, PA.

Construction.

Conflict.

Seems the big-rig truckers have teamed up to exact fairness - or their version of fairness - on the highway.

It's not that I take I-80 terribly frequently, but that there's been construction around Danville for years.

The DOT now instructs drivers to "stay in lanes until turn" which I take to mean that two lanes should exist until there is just one lane.

The truckers have other ideas.

The first time I witnessed this phenomenon, I was headed east, minding my own business. As I drew up to the construction constriction, it was clear that the 50 vehicles before me had collectively decided to form a single lane well before the merge.

Okay. That's cool.

Back then, there were no instructions one way or another about maintaining lanes, just a notification that the left lane would end in 1500 feet, and to merge right.

A guy in a muscle car decides to break ranks. He flies by all the waiting cars and proceeds toward the head of the line, slowing as he nears the merge point.

Air horns blow and just as he's fifteen cars from the single lane, a big rig pulls out in front of him and just hangs in the left lane, blocking his forward progress.

Well. Muscle car man doesn't take kindly to that and he makes to take an end run around the right flank. Nope. That's not going to work either. The eighteen wheeler in the right lane moves onto the right berm.

I understand the principal and smile. Yeah. But the guy in the car doesn't want to get it. He doesn't want external judgment on fairness. He jockies for position as the two big trucks prevent him from jumping the line.

Only three cars behind him, I can see his gesticulations of frustration and disbelief. The trucks have got him boxed in. Even my adrenaline rises as I watch the relatively small car try to defy the trucks' decision.

Needless to say, when the highway once again opens up, the muscle car guns his engine and is off. Later, I tell friends and family the story with not a little amazement at the street justice I'd witnessed.

This last time cross-state, I noted the new signs that exhort drivers to use both lanes.

But drivers were not using both lanes as I slowed and got in line and read not one but two, then three neon orange instructions. I read them and thought, "They want two lanes here for some reason. Why not?" I pulled
into the left lane and slowly made my way forward thinking, "What the fuck?"

An air horn blew. Uh-oh.

I gave way and let a bunch of cars who'd waited patiently proceed. When I thought enough cars had passed for the fairness principal to be in effect I saw an opening in front of a truck who would not be able to pick up enough speed from a full stop to prevent my entry into the line. But he gunned it and cut me off.

"Holy shit!"

I pulled off to the left between some cones, out of his way. His horn blared.

I freaked and bided more time before trying once again to enter the slowly moving stop-and-go traffic.

At the end of the construction zone, the truck who'd cut me off moved more slowly than I felt was normal under the circumstances. Paranoia? Was he waiting to give me a some piece of his mind? He slowed. I slowed.

An exit was only a couple miles down the road.

I matched the truck's slow speed until we hit the exit and at the last possible moment, I bailed for refueling even though I had half a tank.

Road rage. Road justice. Whatever.

My blood pressure was through the roof.

I-80. Danville PA.

Maintain one lane before merge.

I'm just saying.

The Faux Press

The Faux Press Code of Honor

For the last three years I have been publisher of The World's Longest Open Love Letter.

From time to time, additions to The Love Letter arrive in the in-box. They touch me and serve as reminders that love is indeed important to a lot of us.

The following arrived today. Its simple statement of facts and wishes humble.

I promised Taliza a place in The World's Longest Open Love Letter. Thank you, dear Taliza, for reminding us that love moves everything. Add to the love letter any time.

- Watson

My darling Darryl,

I will always look forward to that day, that I could see all the smiles in your eyes. I wish that I could do the little things like, asking you about your day - and the lasting things, like gently touching your face and reminding you how much I cherish you...

In my lifetime, I love you.

I have lead the greatest life because of you.

Yours in my lifetime,
Taliza

Screw You

I make e-cards.

Feel free to right-click, save and email to a friend.

My e-card cgi script is broken and I can't fix it and the site has basically served its purpose...though I'm getting the idea that with not too much work advertising revenues could be generated.

With 6-10,000 hits a day on my site - admittedly, lots of which are search-engine derived - I should get some focused click throughs worth something.

My targets are known and specific.

Whoa.

I need a sales force.

Sexual Peak - More Portal Theory

"Vision of Community" 2003, mixed media, 3.75 x 4.75 in.

Click To Play

Here's a little film poem called "Sexual Peak".

The page from which it's linked is a small but effective portal for people who search "womens sexual peak" and variations thereof.

At sea changes, one wants sea change literature.

All these great blogger ad-sites get me thinking.

I'm here to study the marriage of art & commerce.

Nouveau billboards - actual works of art made by hand that people would steal - then art & commerce say something together.

In Honor of a Forthcoming Baby

"Honor" 2004, watercolor, 6.5 x 5.5 in.

In making a gift for a pregnant colleague, considered what one word I would have a young person contemplate throughout its life.

It was 'honor'.

'Honor,' in gold, just almost nearly hidden but not hidden in the painting.

"Baby's First Art".

Cosmic Vagina

Gaping Void

One of the best cartoonists going: Hugh MacLeod.

GREED SUX

This is an ad I placed in 11211 Magazine.

It has a smarmy kind of elegance.

NEWS FLASH

They cracked down on illegal posters in Berkeley and in Newark. In Newark, you can't hand our fliers either. Well you can, but there's a $500 fine plus cost of cleanup and ninety days in jail.

"Cleaning things up."

Images did show an ocean of fliers in the gutters around the city center. Lots of people handing out fliers.

Suspect it's a first amendment thing and that an artist, not selling anything, but giving away poems, would be the test case.

This kind of crackdown definitely puts a chill on artists who typically don't advertise in the local print or television media.

I do, but that's not the point.

Advertising hasn't got me shit yet. Naw, that's not true. Advertising got me a bunch of art shows.

It's gotten me more exposure than I might have otherwise have. Stats show the spikes and they are often marvelous.

SPEAKING OF ADVERTISING

Lets talk about key words and search engines.

I allowed my desire for visitors to affect content.

Content was responsive to the search engine results rather than the other way around.

Wound up owning one of the most popular ball busting fetish sites.

Totally inadvertently.

But for the pretty good forum, it's totally static since I built it as a portal.

Guys getting vulnerable.

Terrifying and interesting.

See, I told you there would be some sex.

There's also Blow Me University - another successful college student portal.

TACKY

Write regularly for a magazine that gives me the occasional ad in return.

In that sense, I am paid very well.

The publisher lets me write what I want. This time, a bit of a rant on the history of banking titled "Banking is Sexy".

Similarly, I advertise what I want to advertise.

Advertised my new web site - Urban Art Adventures - and decided the ad would be about GREED.

GREED IS TACKY.

I'm not greedy, but do think I should be able to make a living from art.

An Appetite For Strawberries

AN APPETITE FOR STRAWBERRIES
- For JJ

___________________________________________
I crouch under the morning's page of cloud
to pick strawberries.

And as I handle each one under the hose
to check for bruises, would remove them
along with all the bitter white, but each is perfect.

The chill will soon release a sun-drenched heat.
For now, the quiet gray suits the fruit's cool promise:
a satisfying and humid melody.

My tongue, stretched beyond its enameled hall,
anticipates consuming that which it desires;
touches a surface then retreats,
recognizing in the texture something like
your fruit. And I know I cannot, must not eat.

Let Government Manufacture its Own Arms

Acme Smoked Fish Ad

What would happen if the government took arms manufacturing out of the hands of private investment?

1) The government could make a lot of money - benefiting taxpayers directly. Then we might all get behind war.

2) Perhaps the pressure from arms manufacturers - if such pressure exists - to go to war for profit disappears.

What if we used the money we made from going into the business of arms manufacture went to discovering means of alternative power?

1) One big reason we go to war evaporates.

Buy out all the arms manufacturers? United States Postal Service. United States Arms Service. Let the people own the means of production of arms.

Dignity

From Hepburn's Garage Sale

The screenplay is now 80 pages.

Sent out to two new readers.

Wait to hear from cinematographer and two producers.

Got me down for a few days - the idea of my colleagues reading what I've written when they have little knowledge of me as a writer but as a technician.

Fear of judgment.

Fuck 'em.

It's good and I know it's good.

Believe.

Partner Reduction / Zero Grazing Ad Campaigns

"Zero Grazing" ad campaign in Uganda helped lower rates of HIV infection there, but because South Africa has not implemented any such ad campaign, HIV runs rampant as ever through its system of acculturated infidelity.

The serial monogamy model practiced in the United States is preferable to polyamory insofar as containing the virus is concerned. Having concentric lovers without protection can be fatal and costs taxpayers a lot of money.

Infidelity became a social norm in Africa when fathers and husbands went miles away from their families for work, often for years at a stretch.

Broken families wreak cultural havoc from the center out. How do we begin to repair the family? One way is to grant everyone who wants them the duties, privileges and protections of marriage.

It was the phrase "Partner Reduction" that caught my eye and imagination, and gave meaning to the more flashy "Zero Grazing" call to inaction.

Promiscuity can be dangerous to your health. But we knew that.

Tenacity

"Perfect Rejection Letter" from agent

Getting on in life requires tenacity.

Spent the last 48 hours hating everything I ever wrote.

I'm back.

95% of the time I have high regard for those things I produce.

There is a literary prize at the University of Pittsburgh for which I shall submit a manuscript.

Need to cull 110 pages or so.

Started reading through the longer work yesterday.

It wanted to be a novel but turned out to be more of an anthology.

The screenplay carries the narrative more easily.

Back to work.

Tip for a Joy Well Done

"Media Circus" 2003, exhibited at Dam, Stuhltrager Gallery, Williamsburg, County of Kings, USA

Tip for a Joy Well Done

V-Mail

"Portable Nipple"

V-MAIL
____________________________________________
I have got your letters,
and know you must be dead for me to have them.

I see you reading them in Portsmouth,
Vic writing from some unmentionable European town,
just over 151 pounds.
November, 1943.

You were his Honey,
his Sweetheart,
his Chekonkie;
your letters numbered
so he'd know if one failed to slip
between Hitler's bullets.

Did Victor's heaps of kisses
keep your bed as warm in Newport
as they did in Portsmouth?
Did his kisses go stale
in the months it took for them to reach you there?
I've been told that kisses remain fresh forever.
Is it true?

By December 15 Vic is quoting French.
"Au revoir," he says. "I love my baby."

Says he's down in the mouth
not having heard from you in nearly ten days.
he sends his Christmas menu:


roast turkey bread dressing
mashed potatoes giblet gravy
cranberry jelly creamed corn
cabbage and pineapple salad w/mayonnaise dressing
hot rolls pumpkin pie w/whipped cream
whipped cream crossed out
chocolate ice cream hard candy
butter apple butter
coffee beer
cigarettes

Why does he never use your name?
Who were you, my Honey?

He hopes you weren't too blue at Christmas,
and believes the cough will never go away.

In letter #28, you are the sweetest and best little wife in the world.
He's down from 151 to 148.

And now I find your first name's Rose.

Rose, darling, I miss you terribly.
Miss your hand-knit coats and long fingers of your gloves.
Wish I could have worn the blouses you sewed,
tasted your fruitcake, eaten the surviving crumbs
of your peanut butter cookies.

Victor loved you, too,
but never said in his letters
how he'd like to turn you over
and inside out with his tongue,
wanting to crawl inside your womb
if only to remember
what it was to be warm.

The war is over, Rose, Sweetheart,
and somewhere in Rhode Island
there is a photograph of Victor—
his expression aggressive,
a little gaunt (he's down to 143).

But even the photograph won't reveal
how much he needed to touch you.

In my own war, my lover also in some unmentionable European town,
there is no censor.
I could tell him exactly what it is i would do with our bodies
if they were together.

I can't imagine you touching yourself for him, Rose,
with all your packages of under shorts to prepare
and scarves to knit.

Can't hear your voice ring out in the blacked-out evening.
Can't hear your moans of excitement, fear, frustration, longing.
Can't hear the scratch of liquids down your cheeks.
Can't see your hand push the flesh of your breast,
Ian's name pressed tightly on your mouth.

In my own war, the lights are on.
In my own war, the music is turned up.
In my own war, the letters, so different.

[love poems]

Kissing Stone

Souvenir from The Eastern Shore

I don't travel with a still camera. Prefer as souvenirs those fruits of the creative mind - always inspired by the magic that traveling opens.

Nor do I purchase souvenirs for my own consumption.

Rather, I find a stone to bring back to add to the collection.

The game is played like this: The moment I remember to bring back a stone is the moment I look for it and I must choose the first stone I see once I look.

This stone is from a trip to the Eastern Shore.

I traveled with someone I admire and respect and with whom I thought it might be possible to pursue a relationship.

We kissed.

This stone was collected in the moments after the kiss.

It is broken.

Cod Liver Oil Advertisement

Ad for Cod Liver Oil from Johnny Middelfinger, Inc.

Sent 70 pp. screenplay to a cinematographer of some note - for whom I have a great deal of respect - asking him to attach his name to the project.

Also forwarded the package to a producer of note, asking who I have to fuck to have this film produced.

Have next month's rent in hand but not much more, principally because I've been paying 150% rent these last five months in order to fund the security deposit. This will be the final month of rent-and-a-half. Whoa. All this while not really working much for money.

Worked four weeks on a low budget thing but 75% of the income went to purchase new / replacement equipment, just to stay in the game.

Find it rather remarkable that I have been able to live thus since mid-December '03 - this amazing gift of time in which to pursue that which gives me the most happiness: birthing the fruit of my experiential womb.

Am heartened to know that my retirement monies exist; can always draw down on them if necessary. Hate to do that when the market is down. Hate to do that when there is a 10% penalty to the IRS for withdrawal.

Can always sing in the street.

Have an interview to conduct today toward writing an art/commerce piece on a bank.

My current favorite bank is Washington Mutual. Dig their advertising campaign.

Have been studying art/commerce for about two years.

The dilemma is egotism and the disdain in which I hold its practice.

The meditation is: it's not personal, it's business.

"I'm Not Stupd" 2003, acrylic on linen

Department of Consanguinity

Department of Consanguinity

"When you lose your status as a power with values, you weaken your ability to fight those powers without values." - Thomas L. Friedman

E-Greeting Card

E-Greeting Card for the Pope

This digital greeting card is for His Holiness, the Pope, in honor of the his having done as many before him: moved a man of God who screwed up way big time into another position.

As other survivors have noted, Bernard Law's promotion to the Vatican is a terrible insult.

This event was the last straw for one devout Catholic survivor woman whom I know. As of the weekend of the announcement of Law's appointment to Rome, she's a much happier - if grieving the loss of her RC community - Buddhist.

The RC church missed a huge PR opportunity when in the last weeks Newark and Boston closed 48 and 64 parishes, respectively. A spokesman from Newark was quick to distance the parish closings from the abuse scandal, saying that none of the proceeds would benefit survivors.

The church would have been better served had it, rather, embraced its plight. It's clear that some of the revenues will "go" to survivors. It's one pocket.

Welcome to Blow Me University, Your Holiness.

As much as anything, I'm tired of people in power treating me like I'm stupid.

Critical thinking is not taught in schools because then the people wouldn't abide the lies.

Still Image :: Four-Minute Ballet for Faux Press Corps, Celebrities & Disposable Cameras

Still from "Four-minute Ballet for Faux Press Corps, Celebrities & Disposable Cameras"

"Always travel with an entourage," says the Princess-at-Large

Still from the Faux Parade. From left to right: Mia Barker cinematographer, Cosmic Ray, and the Princess-at-Large.

Documentary / Memoir = Living Theater

"Make a Love Sound" from The World's Longest Open Love Letter Artifact Poster Series I, 2000, ink and metal on canvas

The WLOLL Artifact Posters Series I came in two editions of twelve. The first was accomplished alone in the studio as I meditated upon the kind of woman I should like to become. The second edition was a collaboration with a friend whose aesthetic initially made me cringe. Let the judgment go. Focused instead on understanding our flowering friendship.

Began to see how forgiveness might feel in accepting what ever he might create as fruit of his man-womb.

"Make a love sound" is by far my favorite of the bunch - either edition. It remained on that telephone pole - my friend is expert at placement - for 3 or 4 months. I liked to see it there when I went for coffee. A continuing part of the meditation on love.

During this time I had the great good fortune to spend an afternoon with Judith Malina and dozens of her late husband's paintings.

In her sixties or seventies, Judith came bra-less to the interview in a long-sleeved net tee. So full of life and eros. I should be lucky to age with similar grace.

"You Are The Impresario Of Your Own Vaudeville."

"You are the impresario of your own vaudeville."

Visuo-essay on the nature of free will.

A meditation.

Peaceful Coexistence

"Buddha Necklace: Portrait of a Princess" 2002 by Fred Hatt, Paul Aldhy Leroy and Jan McLaughlin

Between the body, intellect and spirit.

As far as I know, this state of balance has never existed in Western Culture.

Peaceful coexistence has been co-opted by the money machine that sows and reaps.

It's a fact: if you hear 'X' enough times the human mind will assume 'X' to be true.

Consumer capitalism is simple; it's all about getting one's cut.

The pharmaceutical companies are among the most powerful these days because they hold the keys to our lives and their quality.

Companies like Monsanto also exert great power over national policy.

Our oil and corn-based mono-culture is setting itself up for a huge fall.

I'm turning off my television for good today.

Still from The Faux Parade

Advertising Because...

Photoessay on the nature of flirting.

I'd rather cut my adtertising teeth on selling my own projects than someone else's vision.

Let me tell you a story.

There's a poetry place that offers poets' / small presses retailing selling space.

I phoned the guy in charge & told him I had a manuscript that was worth $500 I wanted to place. He turned me down even when I said I'd hoped the thing would be stolen. A surprisingly flat, "No. Can't do it."

So now, I think I shall just place the thing there.

Let 'em throw it out.

In the meantime am designing the silver lame box in which the mss - the first draft of Act I of this work in novel form. It's called "The World's Longest Open Love Letter".

Part of the healing it offered was the opportunity to really be in my erotic skin in the company of others.

Did a performance with Berkeley-based Frank Moore who sagely told me - since I am a sometime actress - to play the part of someone erotic.

I'm - like - well - yeah. Okay.

Audacity.

It took audaciousness to get back to normal. Find the extremes; then find a place in between. It's an old theory.

Dear Mr. President,

I hope JC and you are on speaking terms about love.

Have you tried the love thing with our enemies yet?

XOXOX,
Princess-at-large

One Has Chopped Liver for Lunch

"Princess-at-Large wardrobe with bustle and chain mail" 2002 as seen at The Hall of Art Gallery, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, County of Kings, USA

On a chilly latest spring day.

Fresh made by my own hand on toast whilst listening to Jonathan Schwartz on the radio.

Ah - singers.

Downloaded some Puccini and some E. Schwartzkopf today for listening.

Poetry & music.

Wardrobe

"Ladies Hats" 2004 canvas

From left: rain hat, wizards' cap, bonnet & wizards' cap.

This is part of the studio where I work.

The Heroes' Theme from The World's Longest Love Letter

Audio blog rocks my world.

Telephone audio is so bad it's good.

- Watson, out

Shoe Theory

Sometimes I feel just like this. Mostly not.

One might always find a better, more perfect fit; in the interim one wants to walk about most of the urban world with shoes.

Anice Jeffries: editorial / spiritual consultant

"You don't have to be a pussy to be a lady" - early ad campaign from The World's Longest Love Letter.

Iron-on, on canvas. Edition of twelve. In the wild.

"Faux Press ID-EA" 2003 exhibited at Dam, Stuhltrager Gallery, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, County of Kings, USA

Department of Mathematics - The Theory of Everything

"ID-EA Tag: Host / Department of Mathematics" micro-poem for The Welding

Film, dance, poetry, paint - are mathematically-based enterprises.

Portal Theory & Digital Literature

The World's Longest Open Love Letter was written entirely in HTML on the Internet.

Checking statistics, certain natural portals emerged: "Blow Me University" was the first.

"Blow Me University" arose out of an essay I wrote concerning the propensity for guys to bust one anothers' chops as a means of establishing their place in the hierarchy. That essay was titled "Ballbusting 101 for Girls."

There came a huge, and I mean huge, surge of hits to my site.

Turns out there are a considerable number of men (and women) who are aficionados of the sport.

At first blush I was shocked and appalled but the idea of BMU arose. If I honored my ballbusting visitors with my curiosity and without judgment, perhaps I could lure them farther in to the World's Longest Open Love Letter. For sure I would grow as a human being. So. Why not.

The next portal to emerge was "Erotica" as I wrote about what it might mean to consciously open my body to another human being in intimacy.

Lots of poems and short stories were birthed from that.

'Erotica' is a popular search term.

Portal Erotica was born.

I study the stats.

Essays. BMU. Social Satire. Perfect. Portal 'Essay' viola!

The portal theory affected how I wrote the book. My unconscious tended toward balance: body, mind, work, community; wanted each quarter represented equally.

- Watson, out

Two Meetings Yesterday

First, with my editor / friend / mystic Anice.

She comes up with good insights.

One needs a witness one gets so close.

Second, with friends little carol & B. Dog Bennett.

Gave them the synopsis to read.

Saw mutual friend in a god-awful play.

Ate copious amounts of Japanese food.

Loved and hated Manhattan again, more, still.

There must be tricks to commuting from NJ by car but they are not so easy to learn. I think the trick may be money.

- Watson, out

Google Report

I'm so impressed with Google.

Today we learn that they have stocked their personnel shelves high with PhD's and more, that the PhD's are not isolated but spread within the Google camp.

Other pieces focused on their rightous fiscal model: how to construct a corporate heart, a heart that never skips a glub - even passing a stockholder bottom line through its chambers.

Bravo Google. Bravo, you sons-of-bitches. Bravo.

Must wonder if they also stock up on poets?

- Watson, out

Einstein, Exercise & the Fountain of Youth

move very fast = time slows
move slow = time speeds

All relatively speaking, of course.

I'm talking about physical activity.

Move fast in the way kids move fast but are taught with age and school to control and even detest. When kids move too fast these days, they are given drugs to slow them down.

What if we kept moving fast for as long as we could? How many more summers would be as endless as those when we were nine and ten?

I'm just saying.

- Watson, out

Set Dressing

"Department of Mathematics" short poem, 2003 / set dressing for the film / private collection

Shown at Dam, Stuhltrager Gallery, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, USA ("The Offal Project," with Breuk Iversen, publisher of 11211 Magazine.

Not difficult to construct a film if one has vision.

- Watson, out

Finished the Ending

Stills from "The Welding" 2003: a musical theater event

Of course, the movie has a happy ending.

[whispering]

There is a wedding. It's not the princess's wedding, but that of her best friend. Aw!

But then, just when you think the movie's over - why - look - skywriting: "Marry Me" is drawn onto the late afternoon sky and a messenger brings her something she wants very much.

But who? Who is it? Nobody knows!

Exhibit "B", note stain on tee-shirt

"Rage: Exhibit 'B', note stain on tee-shirt" mixed media 2002

Surviving childhood sexual abuse has made me an artist.

But who will love me and how shall I love?

- Watson, out

Ow, ow, ow!

"ID-EA Tag: Ow" 2003 watercolor

It hurts.

For some of us, just to say we are in pain is a triumph.

The Princess & The Vet

Still from "The Princess & The Vet" trailer for The World's Longest Open Love Letter"

The psychology of healing from trauma has come a long way.

In the 60's and 70's there was nothing for survivors really, but an emptiness charged with bolts of shame and isolation.

At one point I had to say, "Screw this," and learn how to be in the world as one of society's most valued - from a self-perspective, mind you.

As a philosopher schooled in the ways of the Greeks I could not help but model the new self I planned to sculpt - by means of theater-based behavior modification - upon the 'ideal'.

So I declared myself a princess.

The World's Longest Love Letter is the result.

I went about as Princess-at-large for about eighteen months.

Invented reasons to stay in better contact with my peer group of friends.

Vowed to do four major performances in twelve months and indeed, did five, culminating in the welding / wedding of my best friend to his soul mate (see "Welding Hat" below - part of the wardrobe designed and produced for the event).

The culmination and denouement of my career as PAL was The Welding / Wedding of Steve Bennett and Carol Wierzbicki.

Now we celebrate their anniversary by filming the thing with all our buddies - without the blackout to complicate matters. Hopefully on somebody else's nickle.

People will continue to help me make this.

Ten Grand? What's ten grand?

Five dollars. Everybody can afford five dollars.

A ten dollar donation gets you two free tickets to the premiere.

I've kept my vow and made the movie.

Now the movie's gotta make me.

Wardrobe Still

"Welding Hat" 2003

For the wedding parade with Williamsburg, Brooklyn's Hungry March Band.

I've offered them a part anyway.

I hope they'll come along for the ride.

- Watson, out

"Eye-dea Tag: Landscape" 2004 watercolor 

The Ancient Art of the Bath

"At The Bath" 2004 pencil 

Ah. To learn to bathe.

As with a great many things, I immerse myself in the learning of it.

See the bath as photographer, artist, dancer, poet.

That is my job.

Asked the boss for a raise this week.

- Watson, out

Sex, God, & Government - What's Wrong With This Equation?

"Still, the rate of teenage pregnancy in this country remains much higher than in most other developed countries. It is double the rates in England, Wales and Canada; about four times the rates in Sweden and France; and eight times the rate in Japan."

By JANE E. BRODY
Published: June 1, 2004 in The New York Times

Brody reports that all schools that receive Federal money have been teaching abstinence only since 1998. Under the terms of their agreement, they only mention contraception in terms of failure rates.

The unanswered question is: what percentage of middle and high schools receive Federal money?

Under the abstinence agreement, five years of statistics show that kids these days tend to wait an additional 18 months before having inevitable sex. Ah. A year and a half increase in virginity. The problem is that when these virgins do have sex, they tend not to use any protection at all. STD's up. Unplanned pregnancy: up.

This dilemma will not be solved until we stop treating symptoms and look at the disease: the cultural fetishization of sexuality.

God has a place in sexuality, but not as hall monitor.

Government has no place in the bedroom at all.

The United States is supposed to be a secular government but the U.S. is in fact as fundamentally religious as any government organized under the Taliban. At least the Taliban admit their radical fundamentalism.

Stop the lies. They will only stop lying when we tell them to stop. Until then, it is assumed we believe them. They are not wrong.

Where on earth is our critical thinking? Where the philosophers? And the poets?

Declare war on greed.

- Watson, out

Paul Krugman Says "It" - "[They're] engaging in class war."

"In fact, the 257,000 taxpayers with incomes of more than $1 million received a bigger combined tax cut than the 85 million taxpayers who make up the bottom 60 percent of the population."

- Paul Krugman, 6/1/04, The New York Times

At what point will things get bad enough for the people to rise up? When the middle class begins to go hungry, that's when.