POD-ESTRIAN

One of my very favorite things to do
in life,
if not my very favorite,
is to lie (lay? hmmmm...)
in bed with my pets and
listen to my I-Pod
REALLY LOUD on shuffle.
My own little radio station.

You can bet I'm not going to find
a real radio station that has mixes like:

Bright Eyes
Biggie/Jr. Mafia
Journey
Muse
Prince
Rage Against The Machine
A Tribe Called Quest
Motley Crue
Ours
Bob Dylan
RadioHead
System Of A Down
Paul Simon
Ryan Adams
Queen
REM
Tricky
NIN
Arcade Fire
The Cult
Beastie Boys
Louis Armstrong
Guns N Roses
The Killers
Indigo Girls
George Michael
Tom Waits
Beck
Pink
Etta James
The Presidents Of The United States Of America
The Postal Service
Hendrix
Jeff Buckley
Death Cab
Janis
Missy Elliott
Modest Mouse
A Perfect Circle
Billie Holiday...
etc.

and especially with no commercials.
Can you imagine all of those people
in a room together?
Biggie with Freddie Mercury?
Ryan Adams with Janis?
Slash with Missy Elliott?
Paul Simon with System of a Down?
Tribe with Journey?
Slash with Billie Holiday?
Tom Waits with The P.O.T.U.S.o. A.?
Prince with Etta?
Hot!


Well, they are all together in my room.
Happy.
And
it's
Fun.
Big fun.

This is where I get inspired,
shake things off,
find my peace,
figure things out...
In my bed,
me,
my pets,
and all those guys.
Together.
And I generally sing
REALLY LOUD.
(It's good for you,
I'm sure it annoys my neighbors,
but it feels good)

I think if I were to listen
to all my songs
on my I-pod
it would be like
over a week of music.
If ONLY I had time to do that...
to do
nothing
but
THAT
for a week.

All kinds of everything.
Everybody
In my room
random order,
hanging out,
no commercials,
big love.

Fantastic.

New Picture

Right On!
Beautiful!


Photo By: Special Agent Timothy McGee

FRENZ

Always get nervous when placing an animal.
I'm careful.
I get to know them first,
try to figure out the best person fit
for the particular animal's needs.
I usually don't sleep
the night that I deliver an animal
to new people.
But tonight,
I think I will.

The Dude went home to spend the
weekend with a dear couple I know
to see how he did as a partner cat to their
beloved rescued baby.
I nervously awaited a report
and got lotsa laughing on the other end.

Apparently, The Dude came in like
the funny guy he is
and played famously with
potential little sister.
His new person called me
and kept laughing at the
play he was witnessing.
(and sent pics! woo-hoo!)
Fast friends,
let's hear it for he dude.

Me and The Dude talked
alot about this
over the past week.
"Dude, if you're cool,
you might have a REALLY
good home this weekend."
We talked about being cool,
accepting, grateful.

So one little guy
is safe in a happy home
with nice people,
with a beautiful little sister cat
at this moment.
And The Dude is cool.
He's LOVING his new kitty friend.

I miss him,
but I always miss them.
But it's SUCH A GOOD THING.
My other friend asked me lately,
"Don't you get attached to the
animals you work with and then
find homes for?"

I said "YES, all of them."
Of course I do.
That's the thing.
Get to know them,
fall in love,
figure out what they are up
to, and find them suitable
people for their personalities.

I LOVE The Dude.
Best thing that I could hear is that
he's happy and safe and playing
with his new friend.
Yeah, I miss him.
But good.

Similar "dudes" can be found
at a rescue near you.
(especially if you live near the Gulf Coast
right now, there are THOUSANDS)
Many species available.
Even if you can't adopt,
you can work with one
and make them more adoptable
on your free time.
Trust me,
It's good stuff.

Poetiquette

Been thinking about liars alot.
It sux.
People who don't lie,
don't expect it.
Liars tell lies
as easily as
other people tell the truth
because it's the same thing to them.
And people believe them
because they aren't expecting it.
Like if someone were to say to you
about a stranger,
"See that guy there?
He has a twin
and he likes oranges"
and then go on about their business,
for the rest of your life,
you would think that
random guy had a twin and likes oranges
somewhere in your brain.
And if you saw that guy again,
you would probably think
"Oh, that's the orange guy with a twin"
But you don't know that guy.
Truth is...
he's an only child with a thing for bananas.
And why on earth would someone lie about that?
But it's as simple as that.
Liars lie,
it's what they do,
Say it, and it's true.

I knew this guy once in college.
I do not know him anymore,
and have no idea where he is
or what he's doing
but he was really smart
(and really cute too!)
He broke up with his girlfriend
and we were talking about it
(we were church friends).
He told me he had found out that she
had lied about something.
He didn't tell me what
and it didn't matter,
because this is what he said:
"If someone tells you everything about
their life, and it's true
but tells you their favorite color is pink,
when it's really green,
you don't know that person,
because the person YOU know
has all these aspects to them
AND their favorite color is pink,
but THIS person's favorite color is green,
so it's a different person
than the person you thought you knew".
I have never forgotten him saying that.

Another reason I have never forgotten him
is because he wrote one of my two favorite
pieces of poetry EVER.
By anybody at any time.
The other one is
Edna St. Vncent Millay's "Renascence",
so this is BIG company.
I knew the title was "In The Playground"
and could almost remember all of the lines
but since I lost all my belongings
over a year ago
I was afraid it was gone forever.
My only copy of it was a poetry
magazine that we both had pieces
published in.
Mine was FAR inferior
and was editted for content
in the conservative south,
and was even worse upon printing,
but at least being published
in that magazine allowed me to find
his piece.
Thankfully, this little
dog eared magazine was one of
the things I recovered.
Scott, where ever you are,
I'm gonna post "In The Playground" here,
it's just too damn good to not do it.
People,
THIS IS A BRILLIANT PIECE OF WRITING:
---------------------------------------

IN THE PLAYGROUND
by Scott Nichols

I Am
Disposable, reusable,
I am treasured, I am throw away
a sea of concrete and waves of overpasses;
the never ending roadway
drug induced, impaired, involved;
strung out like signs along the highway
the one in charge
the man with a gun
and things will go my way
the tear that paths your cheek
for the followers who'll be cried
hammer in hand, splinter in eye
the double crosser and the crucified
the catastrophe on the 5 o'clock news;
the slowly dying and the mangled
the knot in the rope
in your lifeline of hope
and I cannot be untangled
the bottle floating in the currents
with the secret to success
your crackling thirst
and your cannabalistic hunger
all alone in my wilderness
the light that calls the curious
to their hot and voltaged answer
the slow gnawing of your weaking bones
the malignancy of cancer
the finger that flicked the gas
blowing kisses perfumed with death
burned and dispersed in the wintry air
by the chimney's smoky breath
the twists in your guts
and the pain in your legs
the moment your race has begun
the gravelly voice on the end of the line
with news of the death of a loved one
Death beneath a forgotten cemetery
where you're about to break ground

I'm a beam of darkness
Mean as children
And you are in my playground.

- Scott Nichols
-----------------------------------------

Whew.
Wow.

No Comment

So, I've been incredibly busy
the last few days and did not see
what ensued here on my site.
I hate to include this ugliness
here, but ...
There is someone out there
who DOES NOT KNOW ME
who is under an incredible
delusion that they know me
and my life.
This person has tried to involve
themselves in my life and
claims to know about me and my
life and, amongst other things,
also decided to write on my
comment space.
This is the reason that the comments
are disabled.
But thanks so much for all the
encouraging things people wrote
before it was invaded by
this person.

For Mights Sake

My lawyer doesn't understand on-line journals,
and he made me understand
that I don't either.
Several times this week,
I almost deleted mine,
and I still might.
My lawyer is like,
"I just don't understand why?'.
Well, neither do I.
It causes me an extreme amount of anxiety
to expose stuff.
Maybe that's why.
'Til Death Do Us Art.
Creating is always frightening,
but not nearly as much
as exposing oneself truthfully.

But in case I delete,
for the unknown reason that I write,
I'm gonna write ...

I have been so sad lately.
Mean people make me sad.
Liars make me sad.
Suffering makes me sad.
I wish I was better at being
mad,
But I'm only sad,
sad is within me,
Always been a doormat.

Another homeless animal found me this week.
We call him "Dude".
He found me while I was walking home from the store.
He said hello
and I said "here we go again"
and scooped him up.
He's funny and bright and
WAY too thin.
He talks too much,
like I do.
I took him to the doctor
like I never do for myself.
He got his shots and his surgery,
like I never do for myself,
he's happy and adorable,
and I gotta find him a home
because The Eternal Man Of The House
(my cat) DOES NOT like other cats.
So I keep The Dude in his private quarters.
The Dude don't care,
he's cool.
He likes his new food
and his new litter box
and his new people friends
and his new toys
and his new collar.
The Dude adapts quite well,
as it turns out.
And turns out, he's disease free,
(thank God)
and WILL be very healthy and strong,
when I'm done working with him.
At this particular moment in my life,
did I really need
another homeless animal to find me
along with my household full
that I obsess over already?
Well, no,
but he is welcome and he is safe.
The Dude will have a good life,
I will make sure of it.

This, when SO MANY ANIMALS
are homeless and can't find their people
in the wake of Katrina.
And The Dude finds me.
Right Now.
But ya' know what?
Homeless animals and people
exist with and without media attention
everywhere, all the time..
There are thousands that need help right now
because of Katrina
and thousands that
did before and will after.
We need to help
all the time,
at all times.

And although I feel guilty
about everything,
all the time
(partly because of growing up in
church down south)
I am trying to not feel guilty
about all the suffering,
human and animal going on right now
and instead,
be brave and do all that I can,
everyday.
But I still feel guilty.
I want to hide under the covers,
but that doesn't really help anyone.
So I go to work,
I give what I can,
I do what I can.
I cry alot,
then forge onwards.

Tonight I sat on the couch after a long day,
with my boyfriend
who has taught me for the first time in my life
with a Significant Other
what LOVE means.
(and honesty, and loyalty, and strength)
For real.
He humbles me with his goodness.
He was telling me about work
and then reading me letters
and showing me pictures
from his million friends
about their jobs,
their lives,
what they are doing,
the journeys they are on,
the tales they tell
(this after he worked like 15-16 hours,
and has a duplicate day tomorrow,
and tomorrow,
and yesterday,
and the days before,
typical)
And he smiled.
His happy face in that moment
and the sleeping animals on my lap...
all so beautiful to me.
We were listening to The Dark Side of the Moon.
I was reading a magzine
and doing laundry.
We laughed about his stories,,
and cried about the state of others,
we're both criers,
and laughers,
equally.
He's tired,
I'm tired,
We're all exhausted
from work
and the state of the nation.

And everything was kinda fine.
In that second.
And I feel guilty.
I feel guilty about feeling ok for a second,
Because things are not OK for everyone
at that second.

Why should I have so much love in my life
when there is such horror and terror in the world?
Including MY world.

Today,
when I was driving to pick up The Dude from the vet,
I asked God again,
"Why?"
(at this particular moment,
I was asking about the
sadness delivered to my own personal life)
God said,
"look at what you have been given".
I wrote it down on a piece of white gaffer tape
that was stuck to my steering wheel
left over from an indie film I did over the summer.
And I only contemplated
and did not recognize
or celebrate,
because I felt sad,
guilty,
abandoned by God, etc.
But even The Most Evil Person I've Ever Met
told me that I should be blessed
because I give all my money and time away
to those in need.

I never asked to be blessed in any way.
And I feel guilty about every good thing
in my life.
And on the personal front,
in a moment when it's not about
the other people front,
I think about the sadness inflicted
on me by bad people
and life itself.
But then I look at my boyfriend,
and I look at my pets,
and my co-workers,
and my friends,
and I think,
wow...
Why?
But again...
WOW.

And they keep me going,
for some reason,
I am supposed to keep going.
I don't know why...
yet.
But I thnk maybe I will some day.

Only by the grace of God...
and my boyfriend,
and my friends,
and the animals I encounter...
go I.

And I will go...
again tomorrow,
and give The Dude his medicine
and well needed love.
I will work...
And love my boyfriend
and my pets
and my co workers
and my friends
and my family
and I will do whatever I can
to help my stranger friends
and animals
who are hurting
until I collapse.
Which I feel like doing
all the time,
but apparently,
for some reason
I'm not supposed to ...
yet.

TURNING

I had a really bad day.
I hate this planet.
It is not mine.
I swear I am not from here.
People lie.
They are horrible to each other.
The capacity of this species
to be selfish
and dishonest
and awful
to each other
is so sad to me,
I just do not want to be here.
I was at work today,
and each and every
co-worker of mine said something like,
"God, are you o.k.?"
and hugged me.
No,
I was not o.k.
I awoke again to the reality
which is reality
and I wanted to jump off the balcony...
again.
Why would I
who has been bedridden by
the cruelty of others
even when I only see it on TV
have to have bumped into
one of the most
evil,
cruel,
dishonest persons
that has ever existed
and who marked me as a target
And I was too stupid
and giving
to defend myself.
Why would you
be left without
your child at the hands
of a childhood friend
because they murdered them
and mailed you the bones
seeking money,
Why would you
have tried so hard
and perhaps failed
or prospered
be hit by a
natural disaster
or worse
a man planned one
and have the pain of loss
and wounds
and
just
PAIN.

Cruelty,
That gets me most.
Life is hard enough.
There will be
hurricanes
tornados
earthquakes
cancer
AIDS
accidents
and a bazzilion other things
without some jerk
ON PURPOSE
coming in
and trying to destroy
your life
ON PURPOSE
just for financial gain.

Today was a bad day.
These were the things
I was thinking about
after my
hardly any sleep
But then...
In the way things work,
sometimes
Something made me laugh,
I got some new tattoos,
and they are beautiful,
I had several friends call and
ask me to ....
whatever,
where ever they were.
I went with the closest
and had good conversations and
good hugs
and lots of support and love.
I came home early
because I don't like to be away from
my pets for too long.
And after an awful day...
I find myself
watching a documentary,
alone,
with three pets sitting
on me
a cold beer
and beautiful new tattoos.
And you know what?
for a second
I didn't feel like crying.
And that makes me think
about not jumping of the balcony.


Photo By: Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo

Pray Tell

Hey God,
It's me...
I know this is unusual,
because we talk all day every day,
and I never have e-mailed you in the past,
but for some reason,
I feel like putting this on paper... no screen.
To remember,
and perhaps at some point to forget.
It's been a bad week, God.
So much sadness and suffering,
by those who have experienced it first
hand and by those who care enough to
cry miles away.
I am trying my best to help God,
donating, volunteering,
but I am not even a dent.
I care because I care,
and also because I relate.
A little over a year ago I had
my own home and everything
I own and care about
(save my beloved three pets,
this is what I escaped with,
my life and my pets,
which makes me FAR better off than those
who do not have their beloved pets and lost lives)
taken from me by an excellent con artist
and criminal,
that I thought was going to kill me,
who used abuse and lies
to overcome my lifetime of
hard work and charity.
So, yeah, a wave of hate took my home too.
One man made, but still.
And I have looters as well.
Silly girls who came into my home and took
my clothes and my things
my memories
and played with them
made their way with them
but most off all
believed the lies
of a petty thief
because their own insecurity
made them think that living in
my house and taking my things
made them feel like something.
I got to see the pictures of the looters
wearing my clothes, in my home
on the websites,
as the pictures on CNN get to show
people what their looters got of theirs.
I don't know if those looters were led to believe
they deserved to loot the victims,
but I know my looters were
fed sermon upon sermon
of lies,
complete lies
as to why they should inhabit my house
with a madman
and take and use my things.
They sing the chorus of a criminal,
which is all lies,
every verrse,
every chorus,
singing and
spreading themselves
and opening up
to be an accomplice to
the destruction of someone who has never hurt anyone
and who made a pact with God
years ago
only to HELP.

I too have been recently homeless,
in better circumstances
for over a year,
with none of my belongings
with the criminal dancing on my
sorrow,
thinking clever theivery is worth
applause,
and chicks,
and honor
not shame.
And the bored and the stupid say
OK.
Hey, at least someone is paying attention
to us, as strange as this is,
I'll help a criminal
I NEED TO FEEL WANTED.

I, God, need to feel that
what I pray for
and the things that I have spent my
life doing
will
eventually
in the end
stand true.
I don't
lie
cheat
steal
I
tell the truth
I am loyal as hell
and I give, give, give
It's my only nature.

So to those who have truly lost everything
this prayer is for them
and for the rest of us who are
trying to figure out how to make things better.
And although I have a policy to not ever pray for
myself,
only others,
I pray for me real quick,
to keep giving me the faith to carry on,
when I feel like I can 't,
And also for the silly
who may or not be criminals,
but have strong handedly
punched me
in the name of
the liar
the theif
the loser,
the criminal,
although,
they are probably
too scared
or stupid
to even realize
that it was them.

I pray every cot is softer tonight,
until we can get you out of it,
I pray every lover and loved one is found,
and if not,
love surrounds you somehow anyways.
I pray you find your photographs,
your pets,
your friends,
your favorite pillow,
you pajamas,
your table,
that special piece of fabric
that pan your mother gave you...
As I have had to search for all of these.

I lost everything
over a year ago
at the hand of a criminal.
Thankfully,
I still have my job,
and my pets,
and I understand how
grateful I should be.
Many are so much worse off.
But loss,
I understand.
Everyday,
I pray
for the strength to carry on.
And I will add everyone who has recently
lost everything to my prayers everyday.
I am displaced and confused as well,
and it ain't even close
to the way others feel right now.

Love to all.
Except the criminals and the
silly ones that abetted mine
and the silly looters who abetted yours.
That prayer will be for their souls,
as soon as I have the strength to forgive.

Hurricane Fuse

I'll probably delete this,
or at least not post it.
Too many thoughts,
Too many emotions.
A lot of anger.
More sadness
Maybe I'm just not as brave as Kanye.

I'm just saying...
I could've driven my old van
down there in like 28 hours from Los Angeles.
Useless me.
With a van and no plan.
I know I could,
because I drove down there this summer.
I almost did it again this week.
I still want to now.
Just want to be sure I'm
part of the solution,
not the problem.
They are saying "donate", "do not come"
so that's what I do.

WHAT HAPPENED?

I am not troops,
I am not a helicopter,
I am not relief,
I am not food
I am not water
I am not housing for tens of thousands of people.
But I am aware,
that if I were,
I could've gotten my ass to Louisiana
in WAY less than FIVE DAYS.

Yeah,
the administration screwed up, again.
(hey, what's new?)
I have never been to elusive about how I feel
about the bush administration.
I've always said:
liars
capitalist
elitist
monsters

But if other people can't see it now?

You think this would've been a little different
during an election year?
Hell yes.
You think it would've been different if
he could run again?
Oh yeah.
You think it would have been different if his oil buddy's...

OK, here it is...
I think the Bush administration would have responded faster
to a report of a black man walking onto one of his
rich friend's manicured lawns
than he did to thousands of poor people dying and losing everything.

The local
police
nurses
doctors
rescue workers
were left alone with the responsibility
of an entire federal government
and nation
for days.

The local
civilians
were left
ALONE
with
death
destruction
sickness
loss
hunger
heat
and every awful thing
for DAYS.

And even the local TROOPS
could not act without deployment.
I can not imagine how frustrating it must have been
for military people who wanted to BUST out
and go rescue people,
help people
and could not
because the suits
WOULD NOT respond.

I am not salved by a TV clip
of bush running down and
hugging a black woman,
DAYS LATER.
How fast do you think they tried to get
that photo/vid clip out there for PR?
Hugs are nice,
I really like hugs.
But...
FIND HER CHILD/SISTER/MOTHER/BROTHER/
DIGNITY/JOB/PET/PHOTO ALBUM.
FIND HER SHELTER.
MAKE HER A FREAKING SANDWICH!

Yeah, your shirt was well pressed
and probably expensive.
It looked really good on camera.
GIVE IT TO HER,
Why don't you,
She was wearing tattered, old, wet clothes
and telling you she lost everything.
Didn't think about it?
I'm not surprised.
Didn't want to show your well toned mid section
from riding horses past a grieving Cindy Sheehan?
I'm not surprised.

I feel like most people, I assume, feel right now,
HELPLESS. (I'm also pissed)
Really, really helpless.
And that's because we are.
We can donate (www.redcross.org)
and figure out
what,
where,
and
when
we can do more
in the YEARS of recovering from this,
but the administration
WAS NOT HELPLESS.
It had the power and the glory
to do all the things we want to do.

It failed before the hurricane -
bush cut the funding for the APPROVED
plan of securing and
shoring up of those levees years ago
in case there was a hurricane such as this,
and there should have been buses provided
for the evacuation of poor people,
sick people, homeless people,
those without SUV's, etc.
BEFORE the hurricane,

And the administration has failed miserably afterwards -
They did not respond.
I believe the death toll is going to be ENORMOUS
for the time period AFTER the hurricane,
People that could've been saved.
People dying of hunger,
heat exhaustion,
lack of medical treatment,
dehydration...
We have the supplies
and the people...
(oh that's right,
not all of them,
you sent tons of the incredibly capable
and willing
to Iraq for oil money,
under false pretenses
and even now won't let them come home
because the ruse MUST be maintained).

When I heard the repeated line that
"lawmakers RETURNED FROM VACATION EARLY
to approve a 10 billion dollar relief effort
for Katrina victims"
(this was days AFTER Katrina),
I was like,
so. not. impressed.
Is that news?
That they "returned from vacation"?
The people who are suffering
and DEAD most likely have never
been able to afford a vacation EVER,
even to return from.
And certainly may never outlive the
horror of what what they have
seen,
experienced
and lost
to sun peacefully on a beach somewhere
without post traumatic stress interrupting
such a trip.

Sorry,
I am pissed.
And I am broken.

I wouldn't change my clothes for days
because they couldn't.
I didn't want to eat,
or drink
or sleep
or shower
for the same reason.

I have changed my clothes now.
And you can bet your ass I'm drinking.
Not without guilt.
And I have to wonder...
Do the truly guilty ever even think about these things?

Yes,
Our hearts and
our prayers
are with you...
All who are suffering
And I know it's not enough.

And All Love And Respect
to every cop, doctor, nurse,
military person and samaritan
that worked their asses off
to try and help people
while the bush klan was..
doing whatever the hell they do
that I will never understand
(with the taxes we pay religiously every time to fund them)

All I had was one vote.
I used it wisely.
It didn't matter.

Barack Obama?
I really like you, man.
And something in me has been
counting on you for a long time
Can YOU do something?
Please?
(Sorry, Barack,
I don't know you,
and you don't seem like a "suit",
but you have one,
I saw it.
You just seem so suited for the task.)

Barack?
Somebody?
Is there anybody out there?
Hello?

God Speed.

And Speed God to the poor in this country.
The are not worth a dime, apparently,
to the two cents worth
of the powers that be.

(A Special Agent sent this to me,
I have no idea who owns the rights, sorry)

Hurricane Blues Too

I shouldn't have written yesterday.
I knew I shouldn't have,
but like usual,
did it anyways,
like I am now.

I shouldn't have written
because I was immobilized.
I couldn't move,
couldn't eat,
couldn't think,
couldn't focus.

How do you eat
when people are so hungry?
How do you drink
when they are thirsty?
I wanted to curse
my own shoes and dry clothing,
my access to a shower
and a bed...
Survivor's guilt,
big time.

It wasn't my family,
but it could of been,
doesn't matter,
because it's somebody's family.

They weren't my memories,
doesn't matter,
they are somebody's.

And they are all of ours.

And I don't know what it's like...
To be the mother that, yes,
stole from a store
to get diapers and food for her kid.
Or to need shoes so badly that,
well, you took them.

Some shoes were made for walking.
Tens of miles up a freeway,
wet and hot,
with hundreds of others
and no where to go.

I just don't know.

But I know I feel sick.