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Wednesday, Nov. 17, 2004 / 9:40 p.m. ~A Novel Idea~ Today I saw an escapee from the poultry abattoir, happily pecking in the grass, no inkling of knowledge of his intended fate. Plump and content, hungry, no doubt. No more corn and grainy goodness, just bugs on the side of the road. I wanted to scoop him up and take him home with me, as our semi-permanent figurehead pardoned the ceremonial turkey fowl today. A pardon for the lowly plump chicken which escapes the crates, somehow, atop the tractor trailers, or was it an immigrant worker took pity on just this one? I am abreast of the news, though I still am not sure how. Must be the daily logging on to the Interweb. And the blurbs here and there. I sense it would be difficult not to know what's going on, but we tend to focus on the smallest, most trivial matters. Though technology has advanced beyond what most imagined in the '50s, we are still stuck there morally, and prejudices, racial and gender stereotypes still abound. We are still animals, still, always, and the closed minded amongst us are the most frequent breeders. The genetic pool is severely concentrated, we are almost inbred, and the stupidity, the ignorance are like genetic mutations at this point. There is no moving forward, as a species. He was black, she was white, she got naked, 'nuff said. America still cannot handle that. We are steadily going back in time. Examine history to know what comes next. Or do as I do, and stick your head in the sand. Works for me, for now. Oh, and I gave up. I read where he wrote that he holds a grudge longer than anyone, as if he's supremely proud of this flaw in his character, and that he seldom forgets. Well, rock on then. Grudge away. I sincerely give up. I start to wonder what I was fighting for, anyway, was it worth the effort? Any of it? Him? And I answer that I will never know, and this, this is the point. I remember the Frenchman disappointed in me after nine months of my trying, when I said it aloud, finally, in disgust, "I give up!". Later he would say, "But you gave up on me.", as if I'd abandoned him, as if he'd wanted me to keep on trying, futilely, in vain, as if he'd enjoyed my suffering, my pain, and now he'd have to find someone else. There is only so much a person can do, and then she must back down. 'Relax control', as I was advised. Let go. Many things are not 'meant to be', but we don't know who is doing the 'meaning', now do we? We can affect change and outcomes, but only when that change and those outcomes are prepared to come about. Speaking of 'coming about' (nautical terminology, don'tcha know), "Dead Calm" plays in the living room, one my favoritest films. I'm enjoying getting away from the computer every so often. I was absorbed by the online relationship I'd entered into, the one that had turned into a reality, but then back again, all the end taking place here, in this vast and lifeless arena. But now, with the abandoning, the moving on, the letting go, the giving up, it's nice to step away, to partake in the usual pleasures, to remember what they are, to rememember myself, the me who got lost in someone else. I'm still here, not abandoned, but renewed and ready to go forward from this place. Here, now, is a novel idea: Everyone reading this, right now, click on the guestbook link and leave me a note. Say hello, introduce yourself, stop your lurking, it's time you dropped a line. I want to add a 'ya big pussy' at the end of that, but that would be so wrong! I kid, you know that. I just think all of you should say something. I can see you all looking in, why not break the silence? Cost of the War in Iraq
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