The Framed 1’s Life

I just finished watching the film “Good night and Good Luck” about a legendary 1950’s American tele-journalist and his battle to keep dialogue open in the American Republic regarding Communism. Interesting stuff; I give two very excellent thumbs up for George Clooney. Check out the last line, it really struck a cord:

This instrument can teach. (the TV - Kristian)

It can illuminate
and it can even inspire.

But it can do so only to the extent
that humans are determined to use it…

…towards those ends.

Otherwise,
it is merely wires and lights…

…in a box.

Good night, and good luck.

Dammit! It still feels like its January 1 (I’ve been bumming out THAT long. Hell, January 1 even feels like it was November!) and I’m still inside the proverbial pressure cooker. Yeah, its insulated and quite damp in the inside with the dandiness of the expanding air choking you, but sometimes, SOMETIMES, you just would LOVE to jump out of that world and feel the stove’s flames. Its been a crazy ride here in AZ lately, especially when you feel the true pinch of POVERTY — hunger and the diesease of Want.

I’ve finally received the approval of my extension here, but I’ll be back soon. Quite so soon. I’m not sure if I’d return to the open arms of the people or a wave of criticism for such an UNPRODUCTIVE EXISTENCE here (unless you consider finishing a few books, some poems, and polishing up rehashed ideas productive, then I guess I was as constructive as a cow being fattened up for the slaughter).

So, do I hate my existence? Not really. I just need to be disciplined again and taste the blood of everyday living. I’d want to be in another pressure cooker! That is, after this beef is slaughtered again.

Alea Iacta Est! (The die is cast)

Today, my soul weighs heavy in the wind;
My Anchors are set, continents are dreamed!
In the night and the morrows shall I meet
Magellan and Columbus, Zhang He’s seas—
Eternal treasures; a maiden to me!

Aye, aye, aye! The stars may gape, my horizons
Beckon, my winds be sweet, my crew be safe;
But the sea, in sweetness dear, is passion freed
And I, her suitor, have to love her so
Lest the typhoons come and take her from me!

Alas, alas! Fortune smiles to the bold!
She may be a lovely goddess to me
But boldness can only drink cups from seas:
She is her own. She is herself, she’s free!
And I, in fates die cast, shall chase her breeze!