Archive | November 6, 2015

My camera and it’s comfort

This weekend I found myself dealing with my grief by taking pictures. Every time the stress level got too high in the house and I couldn’t do anything about it, I used my camera.

A camera can give you distance to look at any number of things. The piece of land that Heron House sits in is so beautiful and the same tree can look so many different ways depending on light and seasons.

There was a person in the house that quite actively hated me even though I had never even met her before so I avoided her by going outside to be peaceful and ground. I try not to fight with unarmed people and she was definitely unarmed for a fight even though she kept picking them with everyone. The only theory I have about this person is that she is very jealous of what she can never have. I don’t do jealousy, somehow that was left out of my makeup, anger, yes, jealousy, no. I just don’t understand the need for it and when it comes in to play, I tend to vacate the field. There is no point when someone perceives you have something they want and can’t see a way to obtain. Lost a few lovers that way but what’s the point? To be eaten alive with blackness or live a life of love away from it? I choose number two. On the other hand, threaten my family by trying to take something that was never yours to begin with? You get both barrels of the shotgun if you do that.

Anyway, as you can see from the photos I posted, I went out in all weathers. The druid in me finds peace in trees and in the weather, in changing skies and geese migrating overhead, in following a bull frog’s croak in the underbrush.

There is a tree covered in moss that I love to see. The light gets got in the moss and becomes magical like it’s caught in the dryad’s hair. Paths wind up hills and dales, paved and unpaved. Steps to Tir na Nog that disappear into the mist. A camellia confused about when it should bloom erupting in pink showers next to a fiery Japanese maple. Pine trees that lean in with protective stance and a red tailed hawk screeing from a tree. Snow berries with shy smiles that glow in a dark bush and light spangled branches after rain showers. The last calendula in the garden bravely glowing in the dark forest. A maple that is beautiful with and without its finery.

I’ve now visited in every season. Still haven’t been there in the snow. Maybe someday.

George Barris, creator of the Batmobile and other famous tricked-out rides, dies at 89

We drove by his garage every Sunday on the way to church. It was on Cahuenga in clear site of the freeway. He always has some fun movie or tv car parker in the lot. For many years the Batmobile sat in front of the building. All was right with the world as a kid if we could see the Batmobile.

Another piece of childhood gone even thought the garage moved to Toluca Lake many years ago.

The Pope, transgenderism, and the marginalization of lesbians…

The Prime Directive

Hypotaxis wrote an entry about the way lesbians and feminism in general are being pushed aside in favor of pretty-sounding ideology. Flash, no substance, just like the new Pope, same as the old Pope.

The Catholic Church is an industry, an opportunistic microcosm (not so micro, really) of male domination.

Like The Who so famously said: Meet the new pope; same as the old pope.

And yet, this “cool pope” is a perfect analogy for what we see happening as women’s colleges are undone, women’s art censored, women’s spaces destroyed, feminists derided, porn and prostitution celebrated, and lesbian identity erased in the name of “progress.”

The other night, my wife and I watched an old documentary, Last Call at Maud’s (it’s good, you should watch it) and we got to talking about how spaces like Maud’s – a lesbian bar – no longer exist. We got to talking about how…

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