Cold toes and old prose

If anybody else shows for No Mike Open Mike tonight, I plan to read a couple of (I think) good poems about being snowbound. We have had the most glorious snowfall that I have seen since I lost my childhood eyes, that magic sight that we all wish to regain or at least experience again. It is a welcome change from the endless dreariness of a season of unrelenting rain and gray days.
I like to write poetry and appreciate well written verse. I can only imagine the days of paring, honing and rewriting that goes into a masterpiece. I don't have that patience yet, but it is Inspiring.
Meanwhile, it is enough to keep warm. The temperature is brutally cold for the area. Walking is noisy; crunch, crunch, crunch go the footsteps. Extra care when walking, don't want to get too intimate with the frozen earth. It all makes you appreciate the warth of the cafe and the talk, the laughter and glow of friendship.

White Rain

I have read that any sort of change in a working environment makes people more productive. Even if the change is perceived to be negative. Humans need change, as much as we need routine. The same thing day after day after day after day -- you understand, it gets boring.
I saw the look of awe on the face of a three year old; the first snow, speechless, shining beaming. It was enough for her to just walk in the snow, hear the crunch under foot, feel the drag of wet snow on the toes of her green boots. The snowball fights and snowman making will come later.
I saw a lone snowgoose flying at dusk, white feathers on snow-gray clouds. I saw my own tracks, where I had been an hour ago and where others walked. In a real heavy snow, the streets are owned by kids and the young at heart. Cars stay home. Delight comes out and sleds and slides down white-clad hills. Cold hands and cheeks ignored, the first sting of warm air on noses when coming into a warm house. Hot cocoa and a change of clothes, looking out a window at sentinel snowmen and the magic of the diamond glitter that snow crystals reflect.
The quiet of the night; snow swallows all noise. Bent-over trees and bushes stoically shoulder the piling snow. Stop signs and street signs whited-out by snow that precariously clings to vertical surfaces. Every little limb stands out and carries it's share of white. At the tips, crystal globes of frozen water drops.

power out(age)

It got real dark on Wednesday night. We lost electricity. Here at the cafe, it started during NoMike Open Mike. We found some birthday candles and it was magic. The light from a candle is the best for ambiance, so we plan to do it again in a few weeks. I spent a lot of time outside, enjoying the change from the routine, the strong gusts of wind, the cleared night sky and the distant flashes of thunder. A man walked by with a flashlight and asked me if I had seen a black Lab. I had to laugh, it was nearly an absurd question, a black dog in a pitch-black night. It was as if I was in a dream.
I watched the ladies tend the candles. I thought about the significance of the candlelight, their faces illuminated by that soft glow, held in the circle of light. Afterward, we decided that it was one of the better evenings. We have had a lot of better evenings, lately.

meta 4 s for everything

What if we are in a place where everything has multiple meanings, where nothing is as it seems. What if we had to read between the lines, to look at everything as if it is a wrapped gift, a box within a box within a box, like Russian dolls. What if we had to abolish the word "obvious", banish it to history, like obsolete technology or fads. What would our lives be like then? "Common sense" would become "deep sight". "Insight" would be the norm.
What if our world really is like that?

Manufacturing Consent

I have come across a profound documentary that I highly recommend: Century of Self.
Being your favorite paranoid person, I naturally gravitate to all sorts of weird and unpopular bits and pieces of conspiratorial trivia. I am surely not the most learned on the subject of conspiracies, mostly I am a dilletante, but this documentary is a keeper, as it traces the evolution of the Public Relations Industry. If you get a chance, download the documentary from Google Video and sit down to get educated on the subject of Propaganda.
Mostly, I am concerned with how stuff got into my head and what I can do to clean the cobwebs. When am I myself and when am I spewing out recordings, when am I genuine and when am I an actor, etc. I am interested in what is essential about me, stripped of the trappings of society, culture and assumptions and programmed interests.

thanks for all the challenges

Sometimes, to get out of a mental rut, we need extraordinary help. To wit: who will tell us that we are difficult if our friends can't get that across to us, or if we are unwilling to see. That is when we, if we are lucky, come into contact with a rare opportunity; a mirror appears.
I am in that fortunate space right now. One of my aquaintances is an extraordinary prick. Judgemental, mean spirited and destructive. Realy gets under my skin. That that person irritates me so much is a sign that there is work in store for me. I have known this for some time, based on the intensity of my reaction, the number of times I think about the situation and the lenght of time I spend being angry.
Yesterday, the dam began to break. I have been amiss in my behavior. I can't plead ignorance, as often I catch myself being a prick and instead of apologizing, shrugg it off. Tension grew and grew. It is not just enough to reflect on the problem, to skirt it intellectually, I need to deeply understand the flaws in my psyche. The deep understanding started to wash over me, leaving my mouth a-gape and the veil came off my eyes, if only partially. I came to understand the destructive nature of judgements and assumptions, some of my favorite forms of distancing myself (from people and the world).
Of course, the full understanding will take a long, long time. This knowledge comes slowly, bit by bit. Too much may be overwhelming.