Food Chain

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Football fare

click pics to enlarge

If I could just find that remote.......

toasted carnitas and pinto bean burrito

Star Trek Chess

I have always been a big fan of the original Star Trek.  OK, OK, I know, the sets were cheesy, but the characters weren't.  AND it was prophetic.  Remember TROUBLE WITH TRIBLES?  Cute and furry, harmless,  then later.......Oh Shit!  When I was a kid I watched Sinbad, that flying carpet stuff and Sinbad was not to be feared.  Even all the way up through True Lies, with Ahhnuld and a smokin' hot Jamie Lee Curtis, Muslims were portrayed as annoying but so inept as to be cute caricature.  Then we got all PC and now we have TROUBLE WITH JIHADISTS. 

And who could forget A PIECE OF THE ACTION.  Krako and the mobsters whose entire existence was based on mob rule.  Think about the gang warfare in our inner cities today.  In the worst neighborhoods, that's all they know: Violence and  power acquired through violence.  Now we got I REPRESENT THE 313. 

But what really got me thinking was chess. Star Trek chess.  It's played in 3 dimensions.  Even in the 1 dimensional version that we all grew up playing, there are layers upon layers of things going on.  Cube those options and you can see why McCoy always lost to Spock. 

This is how our world really is. Layer upon layer of things we know nothing about.  Things that are definitely not on the nightly news, no matter what channel you watch.  Most of us are so busy with "stuff."  Stuff like getting the kids to school, dinner, the latest really desperate housewives from somewhere reality show, the latest Tiger Woods, or Lady GaGa bullshit, or who won what game.  Most of us don't process the information we get in 2 dimensions, much less 3. 

I'm skeptical of conspiracy theories when they stand alone. A couple facts, truckloads of conjecture, and Voila! Elvis killed JFK.  However, like peeling onions, every layer of either disinformation or lack of information, you do peel off, your eyes burn and water more.  We have birthers, truthers, militias, eco-terrorists, on and on.  All with their own conspiratorial view of things.  Sheeple, arranged in factions for a reason. 

Terrorism is the issue in front of our faces right now.  Obama blames Bush, Cheney blames Obama, everybody agrees Napalitano is inept, full body imaging, Yemen, undetectable binary explosives, El Al  profiling, etc. It's selling alot of products on the nightly news, and generating a plethora of low-hanging fruit for new media types.  But there's more to the story.

Without advocating the author's thesis, I'm going to link you to an article.  If you have the balls  (or ovaries) to read it all the way through,  you will go HOLY SHIT!  If for no other reason than being enlightened about the relatively small club of players who play in 3 dimensions.  This is the rare arcticle in "new media" that is actually footnoted.  My motive is illumination, not advocacy of anything other than we all need to start playing in 3 dimensions. 

http://www.infowars.com/carlyle-kissinger-saic-and-halliburton-a-911-convergence/

I am in no way affiliated with either the website or the author and the Star Trek pics came from http://www.startrek.com/startrek/view/index.html

Pretty much the truth.

Food Chain

When the ex-teenage food processors return to the nest on holiday, usually accompanied by some sort of posse, there are two certainties:  They will soon be out the front door in pursuit of the company of the fairer sex denizens of the 'ol hometown, commonly referred to as "hotties."  And secondly, they will require large amounts of nourishment to sustain them as they sally forth in their quest for pleasant companionship.  Being of  both an advanced age which results in all the "hotties" calling me Mister, and in a state of long term matrimony, I am quite content in the role of camp cook as opposed to accepting the warm invitation to join them in the field for the hunt. Quite content. However, I am not above fond remembrance of similar forays of my own, now many years past, while listening to their colorful after action reports.  In regards to sustenance, they are quite carnivorous, yet will also accept a few sprigs of green provided it rests comfortably on the plate alongside some serious carbs.  I think this will work fine.

 molasses and fresh ground coffee rubbed new york steak with grilled onions

baked red potatoes

spring greens with carrots, fresh raspberries and toasted almonds

french bread with spicy italian herbs and asiago cheese

Finding Elmo (I like the sound of Elmo better than Waldo)

I've always like picking apart the background in photographs.  Like the expressions on random spectator's faces in the stands at sporting events.  The subject of the photo might be a lithe, statuesque Russian tennis hottie smashing an overhead back to Serena Williams, but lookie there, in the third row up, that guy is picking his nose.  The stuff in the background in a pic in some guy's garage can also be an insight into his life. Looking at this pic can you see what's wrong in my life?  Something is missing.  Troubling, isn't it.

click pics to enlarge

Maybe that beer is empty?  Or, maybe the little bitch is locked in the briefcase?

Hmmm.  Oh yeah, There it is. Problem solved!

New optics are always a good thing. :)   And Elmo really is hiding in this post. Do you see him?  My real life Uncle Elmo is hiding right behind the briefcase the little bitch is lying in.  At least he's not picking his nose. And that beer really is empty now.

Poets Corner

What is it about poetry?  Of all writing, poetry seems to be the style most avoided by those who fear scorn, ridicule and embarrasement.  Is it fear of being called a Sissy?  Wimp?  I'm not sure from which dark cave these fears come forth, but I can tell you this; They are real.  It's hard, VERY hard for me to come out of the poetic closet.  Yet I can't deny it any longer.  It's there, in me.  From me.  It is me. Well, at least a part of me.  The closet door is open, and I ain't shuttin' it.

I have always used humor to deflect attention away from areas of my life I feel vulnerable about.  It's hard to slice and dice another while laughing at their funny story.  Humor comes easy to me, albeit my humor can be an acquired taste.  Self effacing, at times; I'll poke fun at myself before someone else can move in with a dagger.  Maybe it's just  feigned humility, but the writing comes easy and carries a lighter burden of rejection fears.

Not so poetry.

There is no hiding.  You are exposed, raw, vulnerable.  Assuredly, there will be scorn aplenty coming your way once you put it out there, but far greater rewards are there to be accrued.  The knowing nod of one who understands what you FELT when you wrote it, and feels it as well,  is tenfold more powerful than the dozen scowls of those who only know what THEY feel about stoopid poetry. 

Rhyme and metered rhythm done well can elevate words to art.  However, it's tricky.  While searching the deep recesses of your mind for the perfect word that captures the essence of say.......dropping the new Sports Illustrated into the toilet,  and rhyming it with bovine, can be challenging to say the least.  Even with less rigid poetic structures and compositions, mere words can still soar to amazing heights.  Unstructured poetry can be way more representative of live stream of consciousness capture.  Like the verse at the bottom  of this page.  I wrote it in about 2 minutes while commenting on Neptunus Lex. 

I couldn't begin to explain the chemical reactions in the brain and flights of the soul that trigger those sudden inspirations, but HOLY SHIT! I like 'em.  Poetry is a powerful medium for capturing and allowing others to feel the emotion, and by extension, the inspiration behind your words.

 I played alot of basketball and sometimes you are just  "in the zone."    You can't miss, you see things before they happen, you ARE Larry Bird!........ well, ok, so almost Larry Bird's 4th cousin but you know what I'm talking about.  Poetry for me,  is writing "in the zone."

Poetry can't be forced.  It happens when IT'S ready to happen.  If you are lucky, and your soul is open, receptive  and you are patient in  listening for it's call,  you might be lucky enough to be the one chosen as scrivener. 

One evening not so long ago, I was reading a beautiful poem on Brigid's blog and I felt a stirring and had quill and paper nearby.  Her writing opened my eyes, ears  and soul, and so I was prepared to hear when my name was whispered and the words were there.  They came easily, naturally, and I liked them. However, remember that fear I spoke of at the top of this post?  Fear won round one.  I evened the score in the morning.

And so for Brigid and Bill,

   MARIONETTE

Angels dance, felt not heard

Mysteries shown, but not revealed

Mortal puppetts, can't say a word

Hang from heaven, fate not sealed

stephen

                               

Happy New Year From Paradise

Around here, palm trees are weeds.

Nobody down there is shoveling snow.

Happy New Year, Wherever You Are!

Even though you wish you were here, where I took these pics today.

Stephen