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Flittering by. A Discourse.

There I was, lying in a ditch.   The circumference of my head,  was enough to make egress impossible.  I was however, unwilling and quite recalcitrant.  My head also fought with frantic madness.  My Galaxy expanded,  my Manic phases were of the ‘Hyper Kind”.

But overall vigilance became larger and with that,  more space to fill.  Some began to wonder about my madness.   My existential clutters being excised, but to no avail.

Remember,  some of the kids have died since these this song came out.  A friend lost two kids eight and nine years old, with in one year.  Both cancer.   The girl,  who was nine years old, was telling a girl that this nine-year was picking out her ‘funeral dress (hers)’.  This was a crushing loss.

 

Almost too much.  As our own baby passed away,  it compelled me to help alleviate suffering, as much as I ca    From charity event,  to prayers of encouragement and your donations.

We set up a wish for the kids.   There are the tired and suffering families,  who carry the anchors of melancholy.   We pass by way too quickly and the for the innocents who some have forgotten.   Lets not forget the wounded and lost families.  I lost a newborn,  who was only a couple of weeks old.   The baby was the size of my hand.  About 16oz.   The loss of David,  and the kidnapping of my daughter,  can only make one stronger.  Some say “how”It is also something to thank God for.

AngelT

These biting nightmares can manifest itself in miracles.  To see the faces of jaded lives is to see something that can at least,  make a child’s face and those of the parents smile.  Watching your dreams fade, is only a start.

My own Bi-Polar stuff and Epilepsy makes it hard to type, but I would gladly give my  life to the lives of my children.   Not even a second thought, with no regrets.

The sickness comes and goes.  The aura of my perceptions,  are as maddening as the seizures.   To the professionals in white, there was an unknown etiology.  So seizures became abstract, with my foot fast, on the pedal.   One foot became jealous.  The jerking of limbs, who some thought stress,  others Epilepsy.   But I know for a fact,  that these particles are obscure and these issues, so-to-speak,  hung around  like the  rings of Saturn.

As I found a weak spot,  on that surface as cold as  winter  ice,  tiny fractures become splintered.   Like slow-motion eddies on an icy plane.   I ran frantically,  from pole to pole, hearing wicked refrains and blessings in harps.

I took a shying twig and watered it.   An evolution of a kind.  A proximal gestation,  already born.  The sickness in the minds of man,  new manacles,  prostrate and sneaky.  I took a glance at the lights from the North.   Far below the icy Temples,  the deep blue seas and lights redux,  came the billowing spray.

Blog for Mental Health 2015AngelT

My exigencies became clear.  The icy-fog relented,  the potent oceans quelled.  A tiny yellow bird,  looked around expectantly,  locking eyes with me.   In a dance of reluctant stars, a new bird was softly touching down.  With it’s muse-like appearance,  it become a willing blue.  Effervescing glows on those winged warriors,  find and preparing safe places,  among the dingy snow.

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AngelT

 

 

 

 

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The Things that Really Matter

In the next few months,  we will be embarking on a quest to house homeless Veterans.  This will be no easy feat,  but it is achievable.  The biggest and best hope is an informed people, who lay aside political hyperbole and false narratives.  But what are these narratives?  What are the options?

Feeding our own poor,  who truly do need our help.  Not senseless rioting, raping women and girls.  Money that goes to the various social dichotomies,  SAIN kits and policies that help victims of those heinous crimes.  It is the women who suffer the vagaries by deed, police interviews and the court.

Ex-President Obama,  was big on campaign promises (immigration) and short on real initiatives.  The choke point was the Sequester. Well what about it?  Nestled in these obtuse proclamations,  was money that was diverted to (illegals, healthcare reform and the fish that saved Pittsburgh).   None of these were Republican issues per se, but they are real.

Filipino Superstar.  Coming to US  and supporting local and international causes. Video by Wish 107.5. All rights reserved by 107.5.  Listen .

The bargaining chip was the suspension of military pay and benefits.   Paring away needed support and doing an end run.  Two billion dollars which were earmarked for Veterans and to the VA , to pay for illegals.  Americans are watching us.  What are doing,  what is being done?  Nadda and more of that nada.

The people that matter and the funds to get this done.   Not five hundred dollar handshakes, the release sensitive documents and rapes that go unpunished.

More is going is to be said and done. Coming very soon.

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She Fell in Love. Can’t be help responsible!

Back in 1974,  I was a kid,   only 18 years and probably was witness in some way to a date rape.   It sure felt like it because as I was leaving out the dorm that night,  guys were pulling a train on a teen girl and some guy asked me if I wanted to have ‘some.’   I said, “no.”   And besides,  the choice of words haunts me too as well as the whimpering that went along with her disorientation.

I was so naive but a part of my soul has been tortured to this very day.   If I knew then what I know now,   I might have gone postal because I cannot imagine a crime worse than that.     You see,   she was drunk and whimpering.   Damnit.   That really pisses me off.  No girl asks for ‘it.’   Not for that.

 

But date rape characterizations are nothing new and for the longest time just generally accepted.   In the movie ‘Animal House’  the guy was contemplating having sex with a passed out underage girl.    Did she ask for it?  NO! Does it happen?   Hell ya!   Is it any wonder so many women want to spread the pain around.

Going a few years into my adult life,   I had a girl friend and she was given a roofie.    The net effect according to her,  was she never felt the same about anything!    Date-raped by her boss at the mall.   She and I went through hell afterwards and my anger @ jerkoffs intensifies.    My girlfriend was only pieces of ceramic,   like Humpty-Dumpty,  those pieces can’t always be fixed.

I suffer too,  knowing that seedy men with seditious desires lay in wait,   like Jack The Ripper or the Boston Strangler.   In these instances the pain is far worse than death.    It is a slow blood-letting of one’s spirit and sense of control.    We had great times and every once in awhile we would talk.

From her bosses abuse of her,  of us really,   she went on a self-destructive binge with an older guy who was a criminal.   Arrested for a crack ball and spending time in prison,   he seemed to like finding young victims.   Her sister said he liked to read magazines like ‘Barely Legal’ and ’18’.      Yeah one of those!    One day her sister gave me a journal she had written and she had talked to her sister about the parasite she was with and how she missed me and my steady decisions and what would I do in a particular situation.   She said I am the guy that returns the shopping cart.    For awhile I was miffed by that but then got the gist of what she was trying to express.     She also got a disease from this miscreant,   Herpes!

(She fell in love in the first place)))

For some reason these words tick me off.    An otherwise innocent girl and not perfect by any  means,   paid the price for both of you and you both should be ashamed.     And I harbor guilt for not being able to protect her from the smarmy underbelly of the beast that lurks with a touch of wind and a wiff of illicit drugs.

If her mom had not been a prostitute and subjected her to so much,   she might have been able to cry on her shoulders.    She could have  told her Mom what he said and did  and your Mom would turn away.   Flushed with anger and disappointment,  words she heard once upon a time. Now reverberating like a song that plays over and over on a music box.   The ballerina fell suddenly and her porcelain dreams laid like a million shards of what ifs.

So let’s examine some of the dubious comments made by men and boys and mostly they are one and the same.     Your high school heroes and high society icons flickered as capriciously as the stories of high school football players and date rapes.   The bottom-line being the reputation of the boys and a girl who was allegedly asking for it.    She was collateral damage in the game of cat and mouse.

He gave you wine or drugs and told you it was okay.    He promised you everything to dance in the sheets and tomorrow he denies that he even knew you or the things you said,  you couldn’t have meant,  if you did say them….

Their friends and influences probably had mixed emotions about the destruction,   from the boss to the drug abusing narcissist whose real romance is a synthetic cesspool of misery.   Both now share in a common malady with excuses and no care for the damage they were doing.

What once was a fairy tale happiness transmogrified into a hellish world of missed chances.   Where lightning does strike over and over again(in the same place) and the pain still flows,  if even now to more or less a trickle.     In the video above  Boy Meets Girl they dance and sing with a love that we all want and yet finally,  even they play a requiem to a love gone strange.     To me,   as I worked in the media in Tampa,   the song was a fresh time.   A promise.   Together with Paula Abdul’s ‘Straight up’,  it seemed life had spectacular promise,  even after a lost preemie and the mother who ran off for a decade and a half with our daughter.

But life has second chances even if those chances require some modifications to retrofit them to make them work.    I do remember what my daughter said about her 16th birthday and how much she loved me.   That that was her best birthday ever.   This after being lost to me from her early post natal days to about fifteen years later.    Still,   I would NOT change things too much because what if we never rediscovered that and that is why the blog about ‘Ten Years a Single Mother’  and her kids love for her touches my heart.   Kids get the connections and their love is pure if they are loved.

The theme of this entire post is what are we going to do.    Rather than just complain about the pain,  how can we fix a thing?   You,   I and many others have lived on both sides of the track and nothing……  nothing gets fixed by complaining.    We need to put people first because a warm place and a hot dinner matters.

To the abuse of women,  children and the vulnerable,   you and I can change the world.    I have a few things going now.    One is to get Emotional Support Animals and Service Pets for people who need them.    Let’s teach men and society in general how to treat a lady and your kids.    We need to focus on identifying potential abuse and treat the family not a case number but take care of it as a village.  With compassion.    No tolerance policies does not heal a family.    Making rules is what politicians do.   Why do we punish people like Aileen Wuornos the way we do?   Why not find out where at-risk people are and help?   That gives us all a better chance of surviving the obstacles in life.

From murderers to offenders of all kinds,   punishment is the easy part,   preventing tragedies can happen and should happen.    That takes  more than a Breathalyzer and seeing if you can walk a straight line.    How much better will this world be with solutions and not grandstanding politicians and other nabobs using the moment for  personal gain.

Education is the key to everything.   Not just laws but helping people be better people.    Not projecting how good we are,  but how good we can all be,  if we just try.   Ghettos are going nowhere and neither are the homeless,  the drug users and other kinds of abusers.   Let’s get this done and stop maligning others.    The old speck and the log thing.

 

 

Quiet Desperation. Rewards Found in Shadows.

I feel pain and many times not even my own.   As a younger man I was working as a Forecaster at McGuire AFB in New Jersey.   One evening the weather observer blew past me and basically seemed to ignore me.   About an hour later she asked me how I knew something is wrong.    Her husband was high on crack and tried to shoot her with a shotgun.

I cannot remember how many times especially with females that I sensed this desperation.   A kind of pervasive fear that riddles with the soul with uncertainty and knowing that people do not understand.   Those who think they know depression and anxiety or to get over those things.

They assume much and without any comprehension of who I am and what I do for others.  The best medicine is compassion.   A feeling heart that is vulnerable but equipped.   It comes as no surprise at the misogyny directed at women and those perceived to be weak.   Most men could not bear pregnancy and yet they carp at women as the weaker sex.   We are both the weaker and stronger and we know what the rules are for that.

We struggle to find things we can color as black and white and a way of a common ground that makes us better,  whole and deluded.   Unfortunately there are the parasites who willfully and aggressively open up scars and believe they are doing good.

To those,  we just walk away,  confidently but with humility because this is an anathema to haters.   Knowing we know where they are coming from.   Two still equal two,  yet the contrary spirit inherent in all of us,  wishes to play the devil’s advocate.

The tears of a friend spent towards a person especially a man who is trusted is almost sacred.    A girl and a friend I knew in Germany was near suicidal following a rape and resultant pregnancy.   She was lost and afraid but I just listened and told her that it is her decision,  whether to keep or abort.   She said I was the only one who treated with real respect.   Not strong opinions and judgments and love that is platonic and still sexually charged.   Without the sex.  Trust.

She decided to not abort and the baby was given to a mixed couple who the Army decided could not have kids by other channels.   Here were people who touched my heart in different ways and all where touched by some kind of angel.   I need to find her again as this was long ago.

The point is that we should listen.  Drink in the moment and appreciate the flavors of experience which if decided to be shared are a nectar so sweet,  that is permeates our brains with compassion and heart.

Give me this.  Take to a place where prying eyes dim. ‘

Give me the honesty to know the time on the clock.

Take me to the door that blesses our entrance,

to the sublime nature of harmony and the steady beat of time.

Give me the mind and the heart to hear.

To move past the shadows

and into the purple throes that fill me with wonder.

sunnude

JungA

The Village

In the still of the night in a remote cabin tucked away from the rest of the world, exists a place within itself.     With respiratory tides of sleep,  the snoring of the night is almost too faint to hear.   But it resonates in subtle whispers like water-bugs on a secluded pond in the middle of an oasis.     The rules are suspended here in this harbor hamlet, a tie-dyed miasma of ideas clashing and jockeying for position,  we attach meaning to these subtle pinpricks.   Suggestions emanating from our perceptions and the texture of skin and the warm breath of emotion.

Night

The night’s camouflage is perfect cover for in that stillness lies the city that no one else can see.  No shutterbug can capture the synergy that glows like the Northern Lights and burns in spasms upon our souls.   We find meaning everywhere and like the first man and first women we discover ourselves together.    Little battles form and we prepare our defense,  only to find that our own sense of oneness can overcome the me.   Our id is suspended and we present as a single flame.   The torch burns hotter than the sun but only felt by two.   The seasons give us a scale in which to measure and adding and subtracting makes it a lot better.

So I guess we live in little spaces away from the chattering crowds where we hear our own heavenly harps and the burnished clouds that come and go.

Sniping at Veterans. Media’s Left-wing agenda?

This has been talked about largely in military circles about collateral damage and the use of snipers.    But is this really about the victims of stray shots and the indiscriminate nature of explosives?

Inherent in war is the very real eventuality of innocent deaths.   Also inherent is the racist comments by veterans staring death in the eyes.    In a moment where it is kill or be killed.   Who here has been presented with the ultimatum of this kind?

So what this may boil down to is a snap judgement on the fly.  Whether to shoot or potentially  be shot.    You have teens and 20s giving themselves up for slaughter in many cases and when they do react, even in firefights,  there is the very real risk of hurting the innocent.

And remember,  fighting personnel are guns and boots on the ground or personnel in Base Towers directing air traffic in sorties, whose aim is incapacitating enemy strong holds.    The terrorists combatants become entrenched in the local communities as cover,  is mainly glossed over.   Risk losing someone because a dangerous criminal is cohabiting with innocent people or just walk away to fight another day?

I am a veteran but I was a Weather Forecaster and Observer.    The closest I got to a gun battle was my Atari or Nintendo.    In the long run my work could have implications on whether a battle is to ensue or sorties will fly.

Almost invariably fighting and support personnel do not want to die.   We do not want to lose our lives needlessly or take the life of an innocent.    To assume that is criminally-minded and speaks to me of hating the military because you do not like war.   Memo:   Veterans do not like war either.   Service members are the one’s with their butts on the line,  not the DOD and not the Pentagon.

During the Vietnam War Era,  there was a song called,  “Billy Don’t be a hero,  don’t be a fool with your life”.   When in the song,  his young girlfriend got the letter,  she just through it away.     Before anyone thinks they know what this is about,   join the military and go through the stress of service life.   Not just in war either but in the sense of a kid who fights loyally and from time to time is involved in something potentially wrong.

There are so many innocents in wars and this includes mainly young people with swords, knives and guns.   Talk to a parent who suffered this greatest tragedy or the politicians who engage our troops.  Talk to the Asian/Muslim who were in the way,  while cowards behead innocent lives for effect.

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WHO IS RIGHT tREX

Before Kindle. Airline Bestsellers.

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Above right was our actual crew on flight 666.

I used to remember the long boring flights across the pond and across parts of the U.S.   Airline periodicals (some of those do not exist – Allegheny Airlines, e.g.) were really intense.   Reading copious amounts of airline propaganda and smelling the sweet ambiance of restrooms,  was always a highlight.

I remember when the back two rows were not the only coach seats and where DC -9s and 727s hauled most of the freight.  Still I did  ride a pond jumper into Memphis,  complete lightning strikes,  hail and wind sheer.  The best part of those flights was probably the propeller engines grinding to a stop and the jerking noise made as the wheels grazed the runway and the nose came gliding down.

Also those stewardesses (mostly at the time) won awesome little hats,  serving Gingerale,  stale peanuts and movie reviews on an aircraft with no headsets but plenty of antiquated gas masks.   Still, it wasn’t all bad.  Gone are the days when security personnel didn’t molest octogenarians and three year olds.    A time in which OJs biggest hurdles were football players and suitcases.

But back to that reading fare.   Back then no one was telling you that there will extra charges for additional luggage and one butt bought one seat.    I keep forgetting the reading part.   Anyhow,  before LOL and ROFL we had old magazines that must have been out of date,  even for a doctor’s office.   Periodicals which FDR’s third term and how one day air travel might actually transport people across the country and even the world.

In day when a non-stop flight was done along with crop dusting and mail deliveries.   Could you imagine what they must have read back then?  Or the stewardess (mostly) saying, “oh crap’ had a totally different meaning.   So if you see hieroglyphics and the Original 10-15 Commandments consider yourself lucky.  It could have been worse,  you might have had to watch ‘Annie Hall’ and her polymorphous sexual expressions.   Still trying to find those.   That Woody!!!!

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