Up 'nd go*

Got dead things in your pool?

Want a meal makes you drool?

Call the cook and pool boy--

here to aid ya--though one's goy!

Sick of dead lines you must fix?

Set 'em 'side and have some kicks.

Alone is not lonely, this we know,

but work no play? Up, let's go!

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* A friend was editing her book and working toward a deadline. She was holed up in her house. The poem was a neighborly, textured offer to give her a break and some assistance as well as food and diversion.

Stupid space cadet

Comments and questions related to posts here have again demonstrated that close reading, including the exercise of basic skills for understanding text, are wanting. Or I am failing miserably to communicate clearly. This is clearly a possibility.

In short, the blog posts here say what they say. Poorly or brilliantly they do so--seldom brilliantly--but it doesn't much matter, for this blog is more a storage place for a miscellany than a bunch of stuff intended for others to read and converse about. Writing for no audience is still my modus operandi and raison d'etre for web logging.

Note this blog is titled "Sort Me". That is to say, this is a place where a speaker-writer is expressing self-referential thoughts, confusions, complaints, observations, what-have-yous. It is by and about a me, this me. And it is for me, with perhaps your witnessing and noodling, should you care, to sort out, or sort through, whatever is here worthy of bother. "It is," in the catchphrase cliche of today, "all about me."

An aside here. The other reader (of only two, maybe three) of this blog took great offense a year or so ago at what he perceived was a personal attack against him. (Out of consideration for his blood pressure and mine, I have since deleted the post and his pornographic email messages.) Among his complaints in a vicious tirade--so vile I dare never quote him--was that bloggers, "he suspected," were "selfish bastards." Well, where has he been since writing was first invented? My blog even places that claimer right up front.

Idiot. Stupid idiot.

Attack the messenger, not the message? Holding things at arm's length is not one of the characteristics of good readers these days, or ever!

Textual. We are instructed from an early age to answer several questions about what we read. What is it about? is the first. The second is, what is the point or meaning? The first question is answered by the context for my post, but also by the text itself. The post I am referring to is about this writer's use of terms not used before but now does more so because their use brings him closer to describing the realities he encounters. "I didn't use these words before but now I do, because I see that they are apt in the world I experience and know something little about." (Writing about writing is always wordier and less elegant than the original.) And the particular words and phrase chosen for use stand out from a background formerly foreign to this same messenger. He must have heard or noticed them more as a result of a change in location or culture . . . than he did before some years ago, living in a different world, no doubt his own.

We learn early also that it is at the beginning of a piece of writing where we should be able to find what a writing is about and why it was written. (At least in the culture of writing in English.) From the title, this piece is advice to a reader and a writer that it is now acceptable to call a spade a spade, to tell it like it is, to not mince words, to speak one's mind, etc. And that might mean pointing out someone who I dare and deem to call an idiot, or stupid, or a stupid idiot--from now on. Like, for example,

Donald Trump is a stupid idiot.

From the first lines of the post, I "now" use these words and I have been sliding "into reality" by doing so. With these words, you thus have the makings of the thesis statement for the piece.

The question is not whether I used these words previously, or whether the expression "stupid idiot" was common somewhere, or used by others in my country speaking the same English, or so on. These are questions not addressed by this expository snippet. The only thing addressed is the thesis statement with the words and expression and the rules for usage that obtain, or seem to obtain--in my case.

One might well ask (me),

• Where have you been that you have not used such language till now? 
• Did you recently drop onto this planet from outer space?

And naturally, the argumentum ad hominem such questions actually reveal: "Stupid space cadet!"

I accept the judgment and sentence. I have just dropped from space and now find myself in a reality I previously didn't know about or acknowledge with words that others find all too familiar and useful. And because of that, I can be seen as an example of those words.

Nix useless occupation

Nix useless occupation

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By the end of the second decade of the twenty-first century, the autonomous and unaligned zone now known as Syriaq had received three areal treatments of Cue-tude (in the form of an atomized spray delivered at low-altitude) resulting in an estimated eighty-four percent immunization rate against socially disruptive, including violent, acts. The remaining sixteen percent of the population were identified, certified, culled, and then transported to PDI (Penal Detention Island) 42 on the Indian Ocean, eastern temperate sector. Both populations were provided with two-year supplies of organic E-level #01 cannabis to maintain tranquil but non-euphoric states, thus ensuring the health and safety of all and peace among those isolated or detained for that period, that is until the next humanistic innovation and intervention could be agreed.

Unfortunately, the residents of PDI 42 effected the unmooring of the colony from the satellite positioning and stationing system, and the whole C-Class AA (artificial atol) entered into the shipping lanes headed east. The northwest department of Australandia, on alert as to possible invasion of colony members, who found a way to trigger the release of lifeboats, thereby, gaining the capability of exit from 42 and landing on that administrative region's shores, armed its citizens; each was given a hunting license and a powder-cartridge gun in order to shoot on sight any foreign elements ("undocumented immigrants") arriving by sea.

The inevitable came to pass, and an Australandia governance estimate of infestation indicated that one or two escapees, likely an unsterilized male and a breeding female, both of comely age, made it to shore and escaped into the bush, having abandoned their survival packs and cannabis rations. All others were shot upon landing, or tracked and executed. Ten percent of the arms from Australandia's armories were not returned after the incident. The AA was damaged extensively when the colonists abandoned "ship" and tried to infect civilization; however, the disabled and unsinkable island was left to drift, the costs of repair, re-establishing control, or salvage "too much to contemplate", according to one source. It eventually lodged itself in the shallows off Melville Island, and there it remains.

Using volunteer despondents, V-vision Channel 395 made an experio-scape recording of the adventure available for three weeks around the globe in all three languages, and this morality play shot to the top of 2025's Pub-Gov media charts for best re-enactment of a well documented historical event. As to the escapees who made it into the bush, they have not been caught and no story in any form about what anyone thinks might have happened to them has been circulated. Objects of imagination, conjecture, and opinion continue prohibited to keep society safe from worries or occupation that lack evidence.

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Syriaq

The civil war in the former state of Syria and the Daesh confiscation of Iraqi territories and infrastructures resulted in the establishment of an autonomous and isolated area known as Syriaq. Syriaq is a huge fenced territory housing mostly the offspring of dangerous extremists and crusader-fanatics. Their effective incarceration and sedation continues controversial in some corners of the civilized world, for example Australandia.

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Cue-tude

Cue-tude (_quietudinus fermentis_, available under such brand names as Quietude Now) is a synthesized organic compound that when ingested or inhaled affects REM dreaming and limbic suppression such that the subject experiences mild euporia, often leading to mystical states (interpretations). The sense of an other or meaning beyond the self is frequently reported. A calm state, labeled "calmed demeanor", is always one result. If social scientists measure a reduction of non-violent acts and susceptibility to anti-social triggers above eighty percent, they deem these effects the desired outcome. Subjects demonstrating calmed demeanor are seen as "cute" while under the influence.

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Penal Detention Islands

PDIs are technologically controlled, self-sustaining, artificial environments suitable for isolating risky populations called colonies. "Live and let live but not anywhere near me!" is the political philosophy that justifies the existence and deployment of PDIs. Most are manufactured, ocean-going islands held in place by solar powered satellite and fixed positioning technologies. Colonists, once relocated to a PDI, have little chance of disrupting outside populations that have achieved peace without them, for they are provisioned with everything needed for survival). However, there are no frills, such as medical care services, or legal release routes available to them. How colonists cope with this humane yet some say harsh condition, no one much cares, for their deeds which condemned them cannot be paid for otherwise, or forgiven.

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E-level Substances

E-level # 1 in the case of cannabis is a mild mood mellowing substance that can be dosed remotely (e.g., by atomized air infusions), or it can be prescribed for self-administration. It is the lowest level mind-altering substance on the five-level MRS Johnson (mortality risk-safe) scale. The E stands for echo for that class of substances which turn one's attention inward and traps one in his or her own internal conversations. The outward sign of this phenomenon is talking to oneself out loud in private.

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Australandia

Australandia is one of five global governance regions. The core of its territory was formerly the country called Australia, although today the region is much larger than that. The complex subject of global governance regions is amply documented elsewhere.

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Humanistic innovations

Humanistic innovations are those developments in thought and technology, which, through a thorough process of proposal and vetting, are used to ensure the health and welfare of all peaceful citizens. Where they are applied seemingly to isolate or control populations or individuals, the rule of eighty percent applies, given that twenty percent of anything can be tolerated and rationalized for the common good.

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C-Class AAs

See Penal Detention Islands. C-Class AAs are doughnut shaped, and thus, with very tall sides, are difficult to board or disembark. See also the unclassified public documentation for and images of the different models of artificial atols.

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Colonies

Colonies are made up of socially undesirable people. Among any population you will find different skills and abilities as well as different degrees of positive and negative characteristics. For example, unmooring an AA from its positioning system would take electronic and software systems engineers. Unfortunately, such people can be found within different colonies, as can individuals who can learn from such people. Thus the need for redundant measures.

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Arms and Armories

Arms and armories are examples of redundant measures should colonists exit from their holding platforms or Penal Detention Islands and pose a threat to majority populations. Although controversial still, with just less than twenty percent of the population protesting deployment of citizens with guns against socially disruptive influences, most acknowledge the system is not perfect. "Violence breeds violence" is the argument against arming citizens under any circumstances, yet no other measures have proven effective against those who would harm us, or so goes the reasoning.

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Despondents

Despondents are you readers who have gotten this far and somehow thought it was going somewhere. It is just an exercise.

And all this time!

I have misspoken most of my life about this: Chuck Taylor All Stars shoes. I thought it was this Chuck Taylor, the Stanford football coach from 1951 to 1957.

My brother and I at football camp wearing Chuck Taylor "keds".

But NOOOOO!

Chuck Taylor was this guy. (If interested, check him out.) And this is what I am wearing in the picture . . . through high school basketball and beyond.

I apologize for the error. How was I to know before Wikipedia?

Here is redemption, and hell

Why would He, who wants for nothing and having been responsible for everything, enjoin humankind to love, honor, and obey Him? Doesn't make sense.

S/he always was and always will be and is totally sufficient unto its self. S/he created you and me and all others past, present, future. We live given this world's nature and conditions, which s/he set in motion and leaves "well enough" alone. But we in petitionary prayer and lamentations think we can move the all-powerful to intervene in any of this? Or we surrender to just what-is, end of story, no comment or questions. Doesn't make sense.

The world is as such that we act seemingly independently and together, and there is the illusion that things change and there is the promise they will get better. But we live and die without full realization or assurance of any of this, much less a deity's existence, whilst all is culturally specific. . . and therefore do in varying ways we revere. Why would we deem some entity thus deserving? or have any motives for us much less mandates? Doesn't make sense.

There is no evidence of goodness and protection when human pain and suffering we witness daily. It is impossible to love, honor, and obey such a god or ground of being. It is impossible to behave as if we can make any difference in what happens by pleading, or that we can do nothing because it is already all a fait accompli. It is impossible to discern any plan we are a part of or should follow. These things don't make sense--especially because there is no protection from or end in innocents suffering.

Hell? It is here and now. The promise of goodness and something better lie with us. What other conclusion can you deduce? without making up stories.

The only other question that remains is hearing incarnate voices, or some variation of same. Are one's personal experiences then sufficient to believe and act otherwise? If so, would it then be the start of the same stuff all over again?

Truth be told, aspect A

The best punishment for my naughty child is to be sent to my room.

In pre-school I ran down the grassy slope to inspect the chalky paint jars set on easel's ledge with large sheets of paper pinned and ready above. I touched the brush and moved it to see if it was real. I left no mark.

I registered myself for kindergarten, one child not holding his mom's hand. As I got out of the car, she said I knew where to go and what to do. I took my place in line and without fear stood independent in pride. I found I missed nothing in the act performed not as others had. I had no choice, nor did they, I suppose.

I took a test in elementary school. I had "analytical aptitude." I didn't know what that was good for, or what it was. My show-and-tell was confiscated by the teacher. After class I asked for it and got it back, her silence filled by my standing up before her in her habit.

Around eight, I wrote my first poem, something about happy alone. Be sure--not lonely.

In prep school, a visiting expert career counselor (former football great turned Jesuit) said I had better find a trade. I was not "college material," although I had been prepped. I surmised he had mixed the student folders. Who was in line before or behind me? I was the class president, wasn't I. But not been back since nor was I ever invited. They lost me or I lost them. Now they ask for money I don't have to spare. Mixed review on their teachings or what I learned.

For the life of me I could not master college survey courses as I blindly  aimed at a profession I never practiced full time and thus never  mastered. I'm now too ill and too old. Unseen connections put me with future college teachers at the time. I was stone silent and felt alone, intimidated by the loquacious ones. I told a professor of history in his office that there was no such thing as history, which I now realize is correct, the explanation too long for today's philosophy. He was too committed to listen to my mind.

 A big name in the subject of my dissertation refused to sit on my committee. I had "nothing to offer" him he said. He equated the physical with the metaphysical. Silly "prig" (his self-description for something he once did, and now my word for his arrogance and confusion). Faculty members dozed as they from lunch sated and sat to hear my master work's outline. Later one conducted my comprehensive examination by phone. He congratulated me without committee members gone missing, and without any questions. I am unsure I earned a Ph.D., but I no longer question, or much care.

I have circulated conundra like this to silent readers. I keep writing but now ignore the public(ation) of any sort. I will leave no mark. So consider this an exercise of a fearless child, happily playing in his room. He may or may not have been courageous or worthy in the face of odds and impediments. He has no money to spare, but he is a generous listener for those who need him. Matters metaphysical occupy his time as does history in the making. He works to know his self by talking to his Self, at times counter-productively in the third person.

Grace themselves

Not for me, not for you, not for the eye
that spied them first, our fancies thusly prompt.
There they hurry and stop for us to sigh.
Not cam'ra nor the -man for him they romped.

Three graces grace and give the static lie--
in a moment frozen. But more we'd see.
We would they'd greet us now approaching nigh,
to have 'nd hold they'd share with us their glee.

The trap for audience response now set.
Charm and mirth the scene--it is fertile green.
A font for creative words we must let,
gathered here then cut, crafted so, too lean.

This lyric is the most that we can get.
The graces were as they still there appear:
The only joy-create their own they met,
in freedom mindless of what man they sear.