Uploading--I think that's the word--to this site some pieces I've prepared in a more private journal, beginning with this:


MY BLUE CHAIR...

I'M GRIEVING during the day, during the day with deliberate, practical purpose in hopes I won’t have to do it at night, wakefully, when I need to sleep; listening to I'll Never Smile Again, and such, by The Ink Spots; letting tears well up some noondays; facing up to how badly I feel now that my lost ex seems lost forever; she moved last Monday from my apartment complex I helped her move into two years ago, returning my blue chair; we spoke briefly; she’s been laid-off; looks like she might have other troubles too; just a sense of that; I gawked, without meaning to, at her lovely brown coloring, still wanting to take in--I now realize--as much of her as I could; damn that I still care though she’s hurt me many times and is probably sleeping with the roommate she’s living with elsewhere; I asked a friend tonight how she, my friend, knew I was in renewed mourning; she said I’d been looking forlorn; oh my...

Test...

I read a Counterpunch article today that moved me to respond. It's at this URL:

http://www.counterpunch.org/roberts06212005.html

To which I replied as follows:

To Paul Craig Roberts:

I always look forward to reading your articles in Counterpunch because they always provide me with new insight into the dreadful situation our country now faces. But after your recent speculation concerning lack of reasons for the Iraq war, I am moved to respond. Because I feel I do know the unstated reasons for the Iraq war. One of those reasons is to create exactly the situation we see now: Disintegration of a potentially powerful Arab country and slow but steady degradation of the population’s living conditions, both aimed at forestalling or diminishing the chances of Arab political control over the region’s oil resources. Destabilization of Arab states has been on Israel’s regional agenda almost since its founding, and I’m afraid our neocons have now decided that this strategic goal converges perfectly with the neocon goal of controlling world economic development through control of the Middle East’s and Central Asia’s oil reserves. Additionally, troop levels at far less than the 250,000 recommended by “fired” generals and others guarantee a certain number ofAmerican casualties, enough to stir patriotic feelings and rhetoric about blood and sacrifice—but not enough to touch so many that a strong outcry against the war would result. I hate to have to say so, but I think all this has been carefully calculated, even down to the decision to undersupply troops with body armor and other items so as to ensure that casualties will occur. We are being “warmed up,” softened up, or perhaps “hardened up” for wars yet to come, possibly against Iran. Many decades ago for a short time, I was a graduate student at theYale School of Forestry. I took a course about environmental policy in which the professor went on at some length about what a “policy” really is. He gave as an example Yale University which had a stated goal (in l969) of having a student body 50 per cent or so per cent female, while admittedly falling far short of that goal. So, he asked us, what is Yale’s policy on this issue? We stumbled around until we finally realized that Yale’s policy was to preserve male predominance for as long as possible, just as it was. Did we not believe, he had asked us, that it was within Yale’s power within a few short years to alter the composition of the student body--if that truly was Yale’s “policy?” What you do with your power to achieve outcomes that are seen, THAT’S your “policy,” he maintained. So what are the Bush Administration’s policies and goals for the Iraq war? I submit that we see it before our eyes--everything going according to dreadful, criminal plan.

WALKING, STROLLING ALMOST, across the Monte Vista bridge and looking down on the green overgrowth on the old Sante Fe Railroad line that may someday bring DART public transportation train service to this neighborhood, looking down and feeling the shiny, morning warmth on my breast, I thought sometimes the beauty of the universe just takes my breath away! Hopefully this is a sign I’ll continue to feel better...

AT A SUNDAY AFTERNOON jazz thing today, the bass-player I vaguely recognized asked me if I was still blogging; after a few minutes I remembered I chatted with him at the New Amsterdam last year; before my multiple upper respiratory infections of January through March of this year; nice to be back in circulation... FOCUSED, STILL, on rebuilding the stamina I had when the retirement and family crises hit me at about the same time in the year 2000; making progress but not there yet; race-walked three+ miles today in under 42:45 at noon today; good enough for 10.25 points on the Cooper scale, a third of what I need for a week... FEEL GOOD ENOUGH to be experiencing where do I go from here? feelings; but mourning tones still come out of my flute tonight...

CURIOUSLY MUSICAL today, finally; I mean I’m playing my native American flutes and finally trilling coherent patterns after sort of tunelessly stumbling about for days... SUNSHINE WITH a little chill enabled me to race-walk again, achieving a time marker I hadn’t reached in months; felt so good I took out the little flute always carry with me and played a little at the lake before going home... FAIRLY BUSY day delivering and picking up supplies for flower shop; got four hours; may be busier tomorrow with Easter coming Sunday... IMPROVED from waking in panic to images of being trapped and desolate... BUT MAY SOON be obliged to manifest a degree of strength I simply do not feel I possess at present; may have to back off from it; do not have a good feeling about it; may have decided already:

I linger over
melodies of my own making--
Such a good day!

A SWITZERLAND...

SITTING IN A COFFEE SHOP--not a Paris coffee shop and not the 1920’s--waiting for my grilled cheese sandwich, I pass the time reading and looking up across the small seating area to a collection of books in a small 2-shelf bookcase; one large volume with ornate black lettering on grey book cover paper suggests gothic, sinister themes—possibly it’s a collection of detective or horror stories; but no; it’s lying on its side and I manage finally to make out the words, AUTOMOTIVE ENCYCLOPEDIA, as vast and sinister a topic to me as perhaps any other I might have imagined; I say I’m passing time reading and staring at these sideways titles, but it’s more than that; I know I’m letting myself be taken on a journey with enough mystery in it to remove me, for a few moments, from the too self-evident horrors of our daily routine and our national life; once there were different times with different kinds of madness; I know that’s true because of the book I turn back to, and I find this oddly comforting; I read from it still, even after the arrival my lunch sandwich; days later, when new counter help is brought in, I will get a sandwich with the bread melted along with the cheese; but today, everything’s OK—bread crisp to the tooth, cheese invitingly warm and viscous, and a companion book to give meaning to my reverie; once, perhaps, there was a refuge Switzerland of genuine, happy-to-see-you greetings and of invigorating Autumns and bold and brilliant Winters presaging hopes in Spring; if such a place exists now, even speaking less geographically, I have never set foot in it long enough to take up residence or even apply for a tourist visa, and I keep losing track of where to look for it; but I keep on reading, even knowing the outcome for the characters I’ve come to care about is unhappy; I know because I’ve been through the book before—and others like it; thus, the well considered journey keeps drawing me in...