Day at the cemetery
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Baby boomer Smith and xgen Lady share their creative expat lifestyle from Oaxaca, Mexico.

collage by smith
lady asks me if there’s anything i’d like to do before we end our wandering for awhile. i say see paris. we’re here in south france, paris is 393 miles north, i’ve never seen it, paris is one of the world’s great metaphoric poetic symbols - it’d be a shame to waste this chance. plus then i can say to lady (just as humphrey bogart said to ingrid bergman) “we’ll always have paris.” so we’re going to go next weeked for 3 days.
my previous blog commenting on the lack of speaking out by the american people against their fascist rulers generated this emailed dialogue:
Mad M
there are ways and ways of resisting; it doesn’t all have to involve shouting out into the cyber wilderness.
me
you’re right - there are a lot of ways to speak out - next time i mention politics, i’ll point that out. for example, there’s subversion, there’s joining the system and trying to improve it from within, there’s teaching - there’s ???
Mad M
Hmmmm….there’s still demonstrations, making political art, getting political art to the public, registering voters, green activism…and oddly, I still believe in comedy, pointing out stupidities while you are entertaining people…
me
all those are valid, but i think making people laugh at the bad guys is one of the best.
o well, as the cheney-bush beast, kkkorporation$, republicrats & demofraidycats put it: piss on earth, good wealth to all - (all in this case of course being only rich white males).

collage by smith

collage by smith
3 days ago was the 6th anniversary of 9/11. while the terrorists killed 2,750 americans, cheney-bush have since caused the deaths of 3,774 american soldiers in iraq, plus over one million iraqi civilians, and another 100,000 american soldiers wounded. there are also 440 american soldiers killed in afghanistan. that makes 4,214 americans dead due to cheney-bush, 1,024 more than the terrorists killed.
there is a good deal of evidence the 9/11 terrorists had help from the cheney-bush regime. that may or may not be true - but it’s not as if we don’t have ample example of previous u.s. government lying: there’s the faked gulf of tonkin attack president johnson used to escalate the vietnam war… the self sinking of the battleship uss maine in havana harbor which we used as an excuse to declare war on spain… franklin delano roosevelt not acting on advance knowledge of the pearl harbor attack in order to get the u.s. into wwII… the cheney-bush phantom weapons of mass destruction… the list is endless, and it all involves american governments killing american citizens.
what we do know is neither cheney nor bush have any trouble lying, nor letting others die in their place. cheney was a draft dodger in the vietnam war, and bush actually ran away, becoming a vietnam war deserter when he went AWOL from the Texas National Guard in 1972-’73.
i don’t know why i keep talking politics and morality because i know my blog readership goes down every time i do. actually i do know why - silence is complicity. keeping quiet about cheney-bush is the same as the germans keeping quiet about hitler during wwII.
here are some words of regret from a german who did keep quiet about the nazis:
“If the last and worst act of the whole regime had come immediately after the first and smallest, thousands, yes, millions would have been sufficiently shocked—if, let us say, the gassing of the Jews in ’43 had come immediately after the ‘German Firm’ stickers on the windows of non-Jewish shops in ’33. But of course this isn’t the way it happens. In between come all the hundreds of little steps, some of them imperceptible, each of them preparing you not to be shocked by the next. Step C is not so much worse than Step B, and, if you did not make a stand at Step B, why should you at Step C? And so on to Step D.
“And one day, too late, your principles, if you were ever sensible of them, all rush in upon you. The burden of self-deception has grown too heavy, and some minor incident, in my case my little boy, hardly more than a baby, saying ‘Jewish swine,’ collapses it all at once, and you see that everything, everything, has changed and changed completely under your nose. The world you live in—your nation, your people—is not the world you were born in at all. The forms are all there, all untouched, all reassuring, the houses, the shops, the jobs, the mealtimes, the visits, the concerts, the cinema, the holidays. But the spirit, which you never noticed because you made the lifelong mistake of identifying it with the forms, is changed. Now you live in a world of hate and fear, and the people who hate and fear do not even know it themselves; when everyone is transformed, no one is transformed. Now you live in a system which rules without responsibility even to God.
“Suddenly it all comes down, all at once. You see what you are, what you have done, or, more accurately, what you haven’t done (for that was all that was required of most of us: that we do nothing).”
An excerpt from They Thought They Were Free - The Germans, 1933-45 by Milton Mayer
this is why i won’t shut up - even though no one listens, i have to try, if for no other reason than to save my soul. it will be interesting to see if i have any trouble re-entering the united states next time after my many blogged warnings about our murderous war profiteering criminals in the white house.
to be fair, it’s not only cheney-bush - every congressman and senator who has not voted to end the war has blood on their hands and are guilty of war crimes. every soldier over there is an accessory to shedding civilian blood (i say this having a brother-in-law over there, and i say this having served 5 years in the navy myself), as is every american who does not speak out. if everyone spoke up, these traitors in office would back down (just like they did about privatizing social security) because like all neocons they’re chicken shits, a bunch of bullies hiding behind the sacrifices of others.
but you’d best know that speaking out has its costs - of the 7 soldiers in iraq who signed and sent a war protest letter to the Times 3 weeks ago, 2 are now dead and a third was shot in the head - that’s 43% of the signers dead or damaged in a 3 week period.
if you’re curious, here’s an array of some of the less rabid, more reasoned sites that present some seriously disturbing information - check it out, and make up your own mind who’s telling the truth:
what new york city fire fighters have to say about 9/11:
nyc fire fighter testimony
what architects and engineers say of 9/11:
architects & engineers
an incredible array of long and short documentaries:
documentary library
some radio programs:
radio programs
iraq war stats & articles:
information clearing house
these are for the open-minded, something in short supply in our closed society.

collage by smith - original painting Melissa Jay Craig

back cover ArtCrimes #1 1986 collage by smith
an on-line article this week on Cleveland poet/publisher Mark Kuhar mentions my 20 year publication of 21 issues of ArtCrimes:
from CoolCleveland.com 9.12-9.19.07
On ArtCrimes:
And then there’s the matter of ArtCrimes. Kuhar inherited the venerable “who’s who in Cleveland poetry and literature” series from Smith, who created and curated it. Smith left Cleveland with his wife Kathy Ireland Smith during the last year. Smith’s ArtCrimes anthologies spanned 20 years and 21 editions. When Smith decided to leave the city, “He gave them all to me to sell,” Kuhar says with a smile. “He said, ‘You’re the man that’s gonna handle it!’ and he gave me 20 boxes worth of those poetry anthologies. Dave [Ferrante, owner of Visible Voice] said he wants to get some of those up on his shelves.”
If you haven’t experienced ArtCrimes, you are missing the quintessential cult classic journal of the region – a blunderbuss of independent thoughts and ideas from the pens of current and former Clevelanders. The limited edition lit/art publication began during the mid-1980s and came to an end with last year’s final (and in some ways, most impressive) missive, Duck & Cover. Since that time, Kuhar has thought about reviving the dormant series, but the time has to be right. “Steve told me that he’s done putting them together, but said if I ever want to revive ArtCrimes to go ahead and do it. We may do that at some point through deep cleveland press, but we are booked with projects through next year, so ArtCrimes needs to rest on its laurels for now.”
ArtCrimes features work from writers Charles Bukowski and the late poet laureate Daniel Thompson through Cleveland’s present day writers; their insights will rock your world. All 21 volumes of ArtCrimes are available through deep cleveland press, and are discounted when sales are bundled. And once they’re out of print, they’re gone forever. For details, visit deepcleveland.com/artcrimes.html.

front cover ArtCrimes #1 1986 collage by smith


photo by Lady, Bezier, France
From a letter to a friend:
I have all kinds of opposing thoughts all at once about Cleveland, me, people in Cleveland. First I think that I’ve changed and can’t relate to who I was at all not even a year ago. Then I think, I’m closer to my real self than I’ve ever been, and I’m back to my idealistic adolescent self.
Then I think, I haven’t changed at all and everyone in Cleveland is changed. Then I think everyone in Cleveland hasn’t changed. Then I remember Grandpa’s dead now.
It’s just so hard to imagine everyone going off in their own trajectories in Cleveland. I want to keep it in a box and make everyone stay put.
It’s really weird to find my time capsule has changed.
So I’m doing really well, writing a lot of memoir stuff, got 70 pages done in the past month, and I’m working on a couple of art pieces for the art show in October at the Brandt Gallery.
Smith and I have been subjected & stress tested on three continents and 40 moves. Each time we go to a new place to live we’re re-sorted, shuffled. We don’t know how we’ll feel, what our routines will be. Our routine is subject to place.
It’s really really hot outside here. There are lots of flies, and they’re trying to eat my head. The grass in the backyard is totally dead. It’s harvest time, and we see trucks of grapes. There’s a distillery nearby and it whines all night. Our bedroom has outside doors and I open them and look at the stars from my bed.
Photo by Lady, Bezier, France

one of those time deadline mornings where everything goes wrong. had an hour for dressing, morning ablutions, coffee, breakfast - then out the door for the bus to beziers.
but the stove gas ran out - BEFORE THE COFFEE WAS COOKED. fortunately had a new gas canister. unfortunately it didn’t fit right, so had to take part of the old and part of the new and then figure out it had to be screwed on backwards - so voila, there goes 40 minutes down the time tube.
canceled breakfast. gulped down hot cup of coffee. leaving for the bus, decided to sniff test the new canister for gas leaks, just to be safe. hit my back on the ceiling climbing up to canister and fell off ladder, aggravating my pulled groin. dashed to the bus stop, arrived with a few minutes to spare. waited half an hour - bus must have been early.
so much for the first 90 minutes of our day. i’d say it has to go up from here, but that’s one of those phrases that make the gods laugh.
tried to catch the town bus at noon - i misread the schedule, was an hour early. finally caught the afternoon bus - it was 6 minutes early.
went to town 3 times today, got there once.


What luck for rulers that men do not think — Adolf Hitler
gotta wonder what happened to government of the people, by the people, for the people.
the american people’s views on the Iraq war are:
53% believe Gen. Petreaus’ report is a lie
62% believe the war is not worth fighting
60% say there’s no progress toward restoring civil order in Iraq
58% believe the Surge has not made the situation better
12% believe the Surge has made the situation worse
48% believe the U.S. is losing the war
58% want the number of U.S. troop decreased
55% favor legislation to compel troop withdrawal by the spring
the democrats were elected to end the war,and impeach cheney-bush. yet they refuse to do so.
i’d suggest you write your congressman, but they don’t listen.
i’d suggest you vote, but elections are being rigged and our votes aren’t being counted. when we do get the politicians we want in in spite of vote fraud, they ignore what we elect them to do.
even so, for the first time in my 61 years of life, i will register and i will vote. because as it is right now, it doesn’t matter what we want - it only matters what the ruling class wants.
welcome to egregious government of the rich, by the rich, for the rich.
(ps - did you know the rich taste just like chicken? so do politicians. and like all bullies, both actually are chicken, will easily cave in if we stand up to them and take back our country)
One man with courage is a majority — Thomas Jefferson


Lineman
Hey baby, what’s your sign?
Cum here often?
Wanna see my coloring book?
I got a big red crayon
Fit right between your lines

New piece finished Sept. 8
It’s our second anniversary. Smith & I hooked up September 9, 2005. We’re in bed. I look into his eyes, and his face looks friendly. “Your irises have a purple edge,” I say. “And then they’re green and orange and rust brown next to the pupils.”
“They’re hazel,” he says.
We kiss, unhurriedly. I’ve devoted this day to him, to bed, to whatever it is we might want to do together. The kiss feels good, and I remember what it was like when we first kissed. How our mouths fit, how he made a little noise, an “umpf” when we kissed that first night. How if we take time to kiss, I still hear that “umpf” of pleasure.
“I’ve got to remember that we can do this,” I say.
“Do what?”
“Well, I have my companion, my love, my best friend. And we’re together all the time, but my mind is diverted by writing and correspondence and art. But what I like most is to spend unstructured time with you. I enjoy just being in your arms, kissing you.”
“Yes,” he says. “I understand the art and writing, but what I don’t understand is when you’re finished with that, and you go on the computer rather than spending time with me.”
“I don’t understand it either,” I say. “I’d much rather talk to you than read the news or read blogs obsessively. And I’m so pleased that you actually want me to pay attention to you. That’s what I want in a companion. I’m so honored to have you. It’s such a relief to have you. But things are always complicated, aren’t they? When you get what you want, there’s still a lot of work to be done. Happily ever after involves work.”
“Happy Anniversary.”
“Happy Anniversary to you, too. Just think of how much we’ve experienced since we left last year. It seems like it’s been years.”
“It’s been a full two years. And we’ve changed.”
“Yes. We are different people now.”
I look at Smith’s neck. I’m worried because he spends so much time in the sun, but I don’t hassle him about it. The radiation treatments he had to treat the cancer last year aged the skin under his throat. Where it used to be tight, it’s slack. But it’s tightened up a little bit lately. I think, “I’m going to put some positive energy on his throat.” I kiss it, and draw back.
“I love you,” Smith says. His eyes are now dark slits. Little drops of light are reflected in his irises from the window.
“I love you, too. My one. My true love.” I kiss his chest. It’s dotted with freckles that grow more dense towards his shoulders. His nipples are pink. It seems weird to recognize mammalian features on Smith. Precious to know his naked body.
Smith looks beyond me to the window. “The pattern on the lace curtains is a repeating vase with flowers.”
I look at the lace. Through its holes, cerulean blue sky, and purple mountains in the distance. I’d looked at the pattern for a long time, but absentmindedly, and I’d not seen the vases. But now they coalesce. I think, “I promise you, my true love, I will spend more time just talking with you. What is this all for other than to be with you?”
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