My (almost) last batch of photos were taken in Debbie’s brother’s neighborhood.  I had an hour or so on our last day in Los Angeles before we returned to the desert.  So I took a walk through the neighborhood.  And I took a camera with me.

Jim’s house is two blocks from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), which I wrote about before.  And it’s also two blocks from the La Brea Tar Pits.  Photos were not allowed inside LACMA…or I would be displaying one of a painting of The Death of Buddha.

But I did walk down to the grounds of the tar pits and got some shots.  And I took more photos on the way back.

It has been a strange week.  Of course, it has been a strange lifetime, so maybe this past week’s strangeness may just be relative.

There is the economic bullshit, of course.  No matter what happens with that, I’m just assuming it is going to suck big green weenies.  That last time some economic policy crap actually benefited the people was when?  Does anyone have any recollection?

But maybe there are some good things to take away from that.  In hard times we sometimes need some of that.

The trouble is that even if we can find a smidgen of good being a comrade with the bad, there always seems to be more bad as a fellow traveler.

And then there is the fence turtle’s story.

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXII

Art Link Solitary We are Normal: a duet Would you please Lend me food? I am hungry. We do not know you. You are alien. You are not welcome. We are normal. Can I please Share your water? I am thirsty. We own the water. You are strange. You cannot have any. We are normal. Will you then Share your fire? I am cold. We need all the warmth. You are other. You must go away. We are normal. Is it too much to ask, To be able to live, To be able to be? We don’t like your kind. You are different. You make us think too much. We are normal. But all I want is To live in peace, To be happy. You have no right to be happy. You offend us. You hurt us by existing. We are normal. I know how to love, How to care, How to hurt. You are not one of us. You don’t belong. We want you to die. We are normal. –Robyn Elaine Serven —June, 1994

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXI

Art Link Hearts My Love As I walk in the brisk autumn air And the sun warms me but a bit You are walking with me. As I stop amongst the trees And listen to the wind in the branches I hear your voice. As I bundle myself in my coat And rearrange my hat and scarf I feel your arms surround me. As I walk through the garden And see the last flowers of the year I see your face. You are forever with me My Love Eternally by my side In my dreams In my life. To feel your touch, To see your smile, To hear you laugh, I long for these. One day, My Love, We will be together And the word Love Will gain new meaning. Soon, My Darling, We will be together As our spirits Have always been. We will meet And the world Will be our garden Forever, My Love. –Robyn Elaine Serven –November, 1993

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XX

Art Link Sextet Love Does the Finding Love departed when I changed or at least what I thought was love but it came with conditions I could no longer fulfill I despaired of ever finding it again though I searched for it begged for it cried long hours and days at its demise and denial Eventually one stops looking I dedicated my life to helping others while I resigned myself to being alone It was then that love found me –Robyn Elaine Serven –February 13, 2006

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XIX

Art Link Breaking Out FREEDOM! Free from the prison of my mind Free from the fear that bound me Free from denial and guilt and pain Free of the sorrows of the past Free to experience passion and joy Free to grow, free to feel, free to love Free to laugh, free to cry, free to sing Free to live rather than merely exist Free to walk my own path Free to follow my dreams Free to embrace the splendor and the beauty Free to explore; free to be me –Robyn Elaine Serven —September, 1993

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XVIII

Art Link Glimmers in the Dark Recesses A New Life There was a man whose life was meaningless Filled with self-hate and bitterness. He was an empty husk of a human being Because he denied his core existence. As the days slowly passed by He wondered what life was meant to be. As the years slowly accumulated He wondered what love was. Inside the dim recesses of his mind Was a glimmer of another life. Crouched in the corner of his brain Afraid of the light of day. The man came to a place and time Where there was no point to his life. He gave up trying To find the path to happiness. But as his life crumpled into non-being The sliver of consciousness in his brain Asked if it could have a try At finding love and acceptance. The man gave up his body To the new being who fearfully Peeked out from the prison That was the man’s fear of living. She was a timid being Having known no other emotion Save an all-consuming fear Of being discovered. Now she had nowhere to hide And was forced to learn how to survive. As she came forward to greet the sun Society drew back in horror. She tried to show That she was better now, At last a whole person. But Society was filled with fear. She changed the man’s body Into something she thought Society would accept. But Society would not forget the past. So she was cast out from the nest Alone in the wilderness Of loneliness and desolation of the soul. And she could not understand. How could Society be so fearful That it preferred the desolate Former inhabitant of that body To the loving being she had become? –Robyn Elaine Serven –July, 1993

Clyde McPhatter and the Drifters, ladies and gentleman, from 1953.  This was their first hit.  You may be more familiar with the cover versions by either Eddie Cochran (1959) or what’s his name…Elvis Presley (1956).

Life once again is dominated by, as Terry Pratchett called it, the “reflected-sound-of-underground-spirits”, aka echo-gnomics.  It always distresses me when life becomes all about the money.  But I live here and I live now.  And there is next to no market in the political arena for knowledge, justice, stewardship of the planet and other things that would interest me more.  Or any.  

Money-grubbing sucks.  Accumulation of money sucks the joy out of life.  But that’s just my opinion.

Eymology Online is my friend, but don’t blame them for my rewrites.

Here I was, all prepared to watch Barack Obama debate an empty chair this evening.  But now news emerges that John McCain will indeed show up for the debate.

Not that the chair will seem to be significantly less empty to me, mind you.

I mean, what’s the deal?  Why is it that Republicans have made a habit of insulting my intelligence with the candidates they have nominated since…since…oh, wow….that’s a toughie.

I mean, they actually selected someone who did worse in college^* than W this time?  How can that be?  And this guy picks a box-of-rocks for his vice-presidential running mate?

[*Granted Annapolis has an honor system, which probably means that unlike W, McCain had to do his own papers, but still…]

John McCain is my definition of an empty suit of the worst kind, someone devoid of humanitarian principles or a conscience.

Well, by showing up, he’s screwing me over again

I’ve decided to suspend paying my bills…

…until this fiscal crisis is resolved.  I’ve also decided to suspend taking John McCain seriously.  I mean, I thought the present Commander-in-Thief was as much of a dork as I could imagine, but McCain has the usefulness as a bent paper straw and all the attraction of of a cup of coffee with a cigarette floating in it.

So now I’m going to have to pay those bills, it appears.

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XVII

Art Link Abyss Time enough tomorrow At the edge of the abyss I looked Death in the skull gave myself permission to jump or fall no need to rush borrowed time is golden time Every day is not today Fear gone becomes anger becomes me not Best to bathe in the river of my truth and invite others to join me while I laugh –Robyn Elaine Serven –January 13, 2006