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Mouth of Sparkey

Friday, July 28, 2006

the ending

So close. The end of nine years of summer bliss. Dante's inferno and hellfreezing over - sometimes in the same day. Dancing and yelling and singing and climbing trees. Crazy people, crazy pain. Vietnam, but without all that killing. Great food, insanely steep cut blocks with devil's club, stinging nettle, bears, rock, hail, sleet, snow and blistering heat. Bag rub, monkey butt, ingrown hairs, boils, cramps, heat exhaustion and muscle pain so multifarious that it's easier to say what DOESN't hurt. Horseflies, blackflies, no-see-ums, mosquitoes and gnats by the millionsin my eyes and ears and mind until I rip off my planting bags and run screaming down the road. Great food, beautiful scenery, waterfalls and little fawns.

The memories are overwhelming. The job is teeth-shatteringly addictive. I am retiring in a week. Too much to process. Shutting down. Library time limit collapsing over me. Must... sleep.....

...

Saturday, July 15, 2006

another thirty minutes

Yesterday I spotted a blue dragonfly sitting on a dirt road. As soon as I had done so, another dragonfly swooped down, latched on, and carried off Miss Blue - all in one swift smooth motion. What profound lesson do I draw from this? Circle of life? Nope. The violence of Dragons? Nope. Sexuality at its simplest? Nope. Just that it looked really cool.

Speaking of really cool things, it's also cool to realize you don't have to fix the world. The Bible quotes God as saying "vengeance is mine, i will repay", and "take the log out of your own eye before you start messing with the speck in someone else's". From this I conclude that I should give minding my own business my most business-like shot, avoiding making and pronouncing moral judgement on the actions of others.

This is because A. it is pretty well nigh unto impossible for me to know for sure for sure if I'm absolutely right, making me more likely to do damage than good, and B. because it is none of my freaking business.

That said, I still figure I was given a brain for a reason, and that I should use it to try to figure out to the best of my ability what is a good idea and what is not and then, out of love for those to whom I bear some responsibility (could be anybody) attempting to see that the good ideas become reality and the bad ones get shot to smithereens.

This is a bit easier than trying to fix the world - and not, I think, a cop-out. It still demands that I do everything that I can, it just acknowledges that, ultimately, it isn't my responsibility. Phew.

Now that I've said that, I feel better. And I still have fifteen minutes. So here is the bonus feature of the day - a poem by me (in progress), written mostly in my head as I took boxes of trees across a nasty road on a cut-block on an ATV:

CONSUMATION

This is a song for you
the few
who rule the efstarking world with a fistful of gold
pulled from the teeth of the weak
(yes, I'm talking about money, honey).

Now's the time when you should start to sweat.
'Cause I ain't even started in on beginning yet
and I won't stop til you're in my debt
for one little truth I won't let you forget.
Here goes:

I've played your game and I've danced your dance
I've walked around with a metaphorical hand down my pants -
but it's over!

You can't control me with your airbrushed dolls
and I'm not getting caught in your mousetrap malls;
I don't buy it 'cause the writing's on the walls
and you've got another think a'comin.

Monopoly's a game we're all gonna lose.
Our money's paper dry
and greed and power's the fuse
'cause what you get is what you choose
and you've got another think a'comin.

Sitting there glued to your glowing blue god
you just can't see you're a glowing blue fraud
who's fishing for joy with a broken rod
and you've got another think a'comin.

So buy your trinkets and your stress-clogged hearts.
Rip up the world and sell it for parts.
Put my picture on the wall and use if for darts -
but you've got another think a'comin.

You say I'm nothing and you think you're the shit
but, buddy, you just put your foot in it
cause the hand that feeds you don't like to be bit.
Now, you've got another think a'comin.

See, I've planted your trees and dug your mines
just living your lies and paying the fines
but I'm tired of walking your worn-out lines -
so you've got another think a'comin.

'Neath your clever talk and designer attire
you're a bit of a theif and a lot of a liar
who's playing too close to the funeral pyre.
And you've got another think a'comin.

You in the pews - you're so much worse
cause you justify it with chapter and verse
as you speed towards hell in a pimped-out, tricked-out, whitewashed hearse.
And you've got another think a'comin.

You worship a god you've made of a mirror
and you kill all others cause you're wracked with fear
that your emperor's clothes ain't gonna appear.
And you've got another think a'comin.
See, you've got another think a'comin.