End of May 2013
So I was watching a really good documentary magazine program last night called VICE. It’s a cable show produced by Bill Maher (one of my personal faves.). It’s actually been around (magazine form) since 1994 and was originally started in Montreal, then moved to New York.
The outline is to present various stories from around the world highlighting many different cultures, international arts and news topics.
Last night the two stories were remarkable.
The first showed the stark and disgusting inequality in the Indian city of Mumbai (slumdog millionaire fame) with billionaires and their palatial skyscrapers that cost billions, literally looking down at the slums which house millions in abject poverty and squalor.
This inequality is global and is getting more and more prominent. It’s not just the USA anymore folks it’s everywhere.
The super-rich are getting exponentially richer while the poor and working poor populations are increasing in record rates. This is not something you will see in the corporate controlled media.
What strikes me when I hear these people talk who are in the top 1/10th of 1%, is the sheer disdain that they have towards anyone else who is not in their social wealthy circles. It is this lofty, contempt of ‘other’ that is frightening.
When you consider that there are approximately 1426 (according to Forbes) billionaires world wide it just shows that the gap is becoming wider and wider. Their joint worth is around 5.5 TRILLION dollars and there are approximately 442 billionaires in the USA.
Yet for years everyone is saying that the US is broke? Please!
Yet again another political miss-direct by the bought and paid for politicians.
As a wealthy nation we have the highest child poverty rate of any developed country at 21% (according to the Stanford center for poverty and inequality). We are only behind Turkey, Romania and Mexico. GO USA!!
Now according to the Heritage Foundation ( a Koch brothers funded far right organization) there is no such thing as poverty in the USA.
This is what they say on the front page of their website.
Quote “The typical poor person in the United States has a far higher standard of living than the public imagines. While their lives are not opulent, they are far from the images of dire poverty conveyed by the press, liberal activists and politicians. Policies to tackle poverty must address its major causes: the absence of married fathers in the home and low levels of work”.
How utterly disgusting, and to make matters worse they show an African-American family in relation to the statement.
Are we really this stupid and uncaring?
-TDB
For more Vice, check out http://www.vice.com/en_us
III.
It was a typical Wednesday: posted at the 806 coffee shop looking for inspiration while consuming the best coffee in town to help me ride out my hangover. I can also smoke cigarettes there. I like various intense stimulation …especially all at once—so my destination was always perfect to fulfill my need for serendipitous interaction and motivation from randomness. This glorious lounge’s walls are covered with local art, comfy furniture from your grandmother’s house, and quirky wonderfully socially awkward individuals that intrigue the shit out of me. This took place about five years ago.
Daniel and I were looking through the quaint library at the 806 for inspiration. We stumbled upon a ‘spell book’, so I picked it up. Daniel said to open up a page and that we would perform the spell. I opened up the book close to the middle, and it was a ‘Poetry Spell’. We both got goose bumps and overreacted. Rewind: right before I opened the book, I situated myself with a tall purple candle with three wicks, my coffee, and smokes in the green room. The candle just happened to be appealing and I wanted to look at it while I attempted to write a masterpiece for that evenings open mic. It was a Wednesday.
I read the poetry spell allowed to Daniel and myself as we began to soak in what was happening. The spell said to create inspiration on a Wednesday, because that was the best day. I don’t know why. I continued to read aloud the page: the spell also suggested that a purple candle could be added to the mix for some extra good energy and inspiration—it would help focus. Daniel quickly glanced down with enormous pupils at the table next to the ashtray and pointed to the mound of violet wax perfectly placed between us at the table. I couldn’t make this shit up. He can tell you this story. That night it was a full moon and we performed what we wrote that day from the heart: it was a great day. I remember it like yesterday.
Fast-forward: Today is a Wednesday, I’m in the same spot at the 806 coffee shop, and some of the same people are in and out today that were five years ago. Familiarity breathes a certain aura of comfort while we pursue the unknown. My internet is not working at my house today because of the intense storms we had in Amarillo last night; therefore, I came to my local spot to write, drink cold brew coffee, and for this: to give and receive inspiration—light.
I realize back then I was writing for myself, an escape to feed my soul. Today I write for those of you who are reading this and that you find your center of inspiration, comfort, and live through your passions.
-Sunny
Once I let go of all the fear in my heart, the world feared me. I honestly believe there are two emotions in this world. Two hearts, love and fear. From my personal experience I’ve discovered depending on which heart I have, the consequences of my actions can be favorable or regretful.
Whenever I’ve loved a woman, I find myself scared to lose them. So my my mind starts to twist and my heart changes. At first I want to do romantic things because I love them and want to show an appreciation. But slowly, I begin to slip and fear the thought of them leaving. When I act out of this fearful heart, that’s when I lose them. Questioning their loyalty. What they meant by what they said or didn’t say. My imagination turns on me.
True or false: Every woman I ever loved, at one point I treated them like they hated me. I remember one relationship where I pushed a girl away ever so slowly because I was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was cheating on me. So not only did I get back at her, I dumped her after. Years later we would become good friends and I would find it was all in my head. If she was on trial, I would have sentenced her to death. No evidence. Just my own conviction projected onto someone else. The ego is funny like that.
My jealousy and my insecurity all stem from this fear. There have been several relationships where I get drunk off of this fear. My paranoia so rooted within me that I'm sure my girlfriend was sucking every guy’s dick with her eyes. And from the roots it blooms into limbs. These limbs turn the steering wheel when I leave her house because I know he’s coming over. So I leave for a second and circle the block to catch her hoe ass in the act. Only to find myself waiting in the dark, waiting for an imaginary boyfriend to show up.
I let my heart turn from love to fear, its not enough to sustain a healthy relationship. And I’ve lossed wonderful women. Ladies who sincerely cared and loved me. All for what? Because I feared losing them more than I loved them while they were here.
After a less than ideal year. My most recent prospect for love joined a burlesque troupe. She would strip down to pasties in front of a crowd. I get upset when girls look at other guys or shirts too low cut let alone something like this. This forced me to do two things. Face that fear. What is it exactly that drives me mad about it. Its trust. In her and myself. Trust her enough to be loyal. Trust that I'm worth enough to keep a girl around. Also, call out the hypocrite in me. I've tried to talk to strippers a few times. I had no fantasies of changing them. But tried to talk and had intentions of dating some of them. In that case what is the difference between dating a women who is very expressive in her sexuality and a woman who wants to show a little skin. It was my heart. My fear or lack of that was the difference between them.
I used to feel like I was most powerful when I was writing or performing. But I recently discovered a new power. When my heart is reckless, I am something else... either super human or finally being human. I have yet to understand that part. But I know when I let love fill my heart and I let it run rampant on the world I feel liberated. To let it love without limits I can feel an evolution within myself that can transcend my relationships. It bleeds into how I live my life. These days, when I feel my heart crumbling in that too familiar feeling, I remind myself where that has got me and what a fearless heart has done for me. I'm tired of losing friends because I'm scared to lose a girl. I'm tired of losing a girl because I'm scared of myself. I don't WANT to live without fear. I just am. And the world will fear me, until it learns to do the same.
-DCR
Growing up, the majority of my parental figures had at least a graduate degree, all of which in areas of mental health(counseling, social work, and psychology), and all of which worked long hours to feed, house and clothes our families. Given that I come from a “blended” family, the details of this are for most far too hard to follow without a flow chart, however what I can say is this, in the houses I grew up in, what we lacked in expendable income and supervision, we made up for in a welcoming nature, survival skills, and an appreciation and respect for life, and the perspectives of others. You see, my house didn't just have an open door policy, it was more like open door, bed, kitchen, window, and shed. Having lost track of how many of our friends used our home as a welcomed escape, our home was never a place a judgement, and while far from perfect itself, it expected nothing but kindness and a mutual respect.
Looking back on this today, I would have to say that this one of the most formative periods of my life, and from this I have taken away countless lessons that I will be forever grateful for. While we did not grow up poor by any means, my parents fought everyday for their middle class status, and spent the majority of their income on houses in the better neighborhoods, to allow us access to the best public schools possible. Growing up with sisters and brothers, we learned very early how to share, cooperate, and the concept of first come first serve. As kids, our needs were always met, and while growing up in a materialist culture there was plenty of stuff I wanted, I gained an appreciation for what I did have, through not being given everything I ever asked for, as well as through sharing what I had attained. Today I recognize just how fortunate I really was in comparison to so many around the world, and indeed in this country, and like so many others would love to do more to help change this, but most often feel powerless to the enormity of the issue. With election seasons being plagued by minor discrepancies in ideologies, while the real issues go unaddressed, it is no wonder that voter turn out is so low in this country.
Fed up with the illusion of democracy, and often too deeply embedded in the system of debt and repayment to be able to do anything but give in, we have lost sight of the need for appreciation, kindness, and mutual respect. With so many problems facing the world today, it is only through education on a global scale that is focused on creativity and an innovative approach to learning that we will be able to out pace these issues, and it is only through enhanced appreciation, kindness, and mutual respect that any of this will be possible.
-Joshua Genius
Appreciation
