Monday, August 25, 2014

political mug shots

My younger son put a fire under my tail today and challenged me to go for a walk. For the better-endowed, this was clearly cotton-candy for an exercise, but for me it was ... something. Down the block, around the corner, about-face and return ... total-elapsed time, perhaps 8-10 minutes. For someone largely housebound of late, it was an adventure and the air felt good on the skin. Staying indoors creates mental bedsores and there's nothing like a little fresh air for a bit of healing, however small.

Little thoughts....

-- If you want to do zazen, do zazen.

-- In the same way that criminals/sex-offenders/etc. have their mug shots collected in a place where authorities can pick them out in an instant, perhaps one of the requirements of running for public office should be a rogue's gallery depicting full-frontally nude (and full-sidewise as well) pictures of all political wannabes.

Objective: Everyone is naked and everyone knows everyone is naked and yet each time there is a political scandal that involves another (wo)man, everyone seems to get pretty upset that the participants should, in one way or another, display what they couldn't escape if they wanted to. Allowing mug shots might help to sidestep the ersatz wonder when it turns out everyone is naked from the get-go. Further, since being what you are is socially embarrassing, allowing mug shots might encourage a certain courage on the part of candidates ... do you want it bad enough to get naked? And last, such mug shots might encourage candidates to stay on topic ... yes, I'm naked ... now what about the economy or racism or jobs ... the stuff that affects a national constituency?

--  Some of them are stuffed on shelves on the porch -- fat books reminding me of a time when -- literally -- I would choose to read books by the pound ... fat books that wouldn't peter out so fast. Thomas Hardy; Leo Tolstoy; and even -- no shit -- Jane Austen.

The other day, I thought I might try again and pulled a dusty copy of "Lonesome Dove" off the shelf.
Nine hundred and sixty pages. Does anyone read -- let alone write -- such things any more? Yesterday, when I looked, somehow 842 lilting pages had passed like some shepherd absently humming to his flock. Not non-fiction, but fiction that staked its claim in my 'non-fiction' universe. So much more soothing than the writing parading its soothing qualities. Sometimes a good lie is so much better than a good lie.

-- A grey dawn of four or five hours ago has turned into a sunny day. Heat, which is normal at this time of year and yet has been absent along the East Coast, is promised. There are doctors to call -- a chore I dislike -- but the sunshine eases the burden somehow.

1 comment:

  1. Wearing a halo and living where there are no sidewalks i'm forbidden such things. I can only see what i can see from the porch of the livestock, wildlife, even the dogs. But twice a day my drill sergeant cracks the whip for physical therapy.

    It seems like a time comes when life becomes more observational than occupational. But somebody will always get it in their head that if they don't see you up and at it they don't see you. Maybe they don't pass by my recliner often enough to reassure themselves.

    But it comes amid claims of how needful you are to them, which can swell ones self esteem i guess. It may fly in the face of personal opinion, that life is pretty much done because there's insufficient energy to go to the trouble of living.

    Maybe that's a readiness for death that will make passing easier. But there's still some adrenalin available for when anything suggesting that time might be upon us. It's a rum 'un as the saying goes, no making sense of it.

    But for an old work horse, the sound of the whip is enough. I comply with a grumble, but i comply. I'm apparently needed if only to do this apparently needful thing.

    Well, whether or not i'm needed, i'm of the opinion that you are old son. This is the only blog i'm willing to afflict. And i need a friend who understands the term cluster fuck. So good on your son. Give him a pat on the back from me. If i have to do PT, you have to hike. I grumble because i refuse to suffer alone.