Weblog 104
February 03, 2008~ 12:15am
Did you ever feel there is something large and mysterious, hovering just over us? Some call it God, and some 'Fate'- or the 'Over Soul', but I believe it's there. Sometimes oppressively-- and sometimes as soft as a lullaby or the scent of something sweet in every breath we breathe, but there is a presence...I am convinced of that.
Remember in "Third Rock From the Sun", they talked about the 'Giant Head'...I think there's one out there floating- serene, but scary as hell. Skin red as fire. Eyes closed because it doesn't have to see, it knows...everything. It knows how all this is going to turn out and it abides- never actually touching, never connecting, except telepathically- and like the obelisk in '2001:A Space Odyssey'- it hums. And the hum is life.
Walking out into a supremely still winter night where only sound is the cracking of frost under the shoes, staring up at stars from inside a fog of breath hitting cold air-
you can almost hear it- but not quite.
I think this little feller knows. Ain't he cute? Twenty five centuries old, from central Mexico; I think he should know the BIG GUY intimately.
I believe those are protections written all over him. He takes no chances. That's why he's lasted this long. I am partial to sculpture; especially pudgy little things like this- squat and funny- sturdy little nuggets that have heft, and a low center of gravity.
They make me feel safe. In the same way thinking about the Giant Head does not. LOL! I wish I could seer into the future--- I'd love to know what the world will be in another hundred years after I am gone. And for heaven sake.....will these be 'the good old days'?-- hard to believe, but by that time maybe they will be. That seems to be the case with days gone by. Though it's impossible to imagine anyone hankering longingly after the crap we have around us now, but believe it or not, perhaps the world will grow even more disconnected and impersonal, and warring.
My gosh- wouldn't you like to put on the yellowish magic glasses and just glimpse it?
And right in the middle of the vision there's still the lost child in all of us, plain and shy, looking out with those eyes- the big eyes are what you remember- lit like torches. Lighting the way- trying to find the path- as we all are- in our wanderings from the cradle on: we want to be safe. But to be alive is the exact opposite. It's taken me fifty years to be comfortable with that, but I've done it. Nothing is safe. And everything is monstrous......
and wonderful.
Life is the tension between these two.
February 03, 2008~ 9:454m
I came upon a strange and fascinatingly disturbing site tonight. Strange, because it gives a startlingly banal face to evil and that makes me uncomfortable having gotten used to casting certain characters in hated roles... and it carries the dark under-knowledge of what this fresh-faced army was about-- the Nazi stormtroopers of WWII. The site feels much like the creepy picture below, that fairly vibrates with a wrongness- just beneath its surface playfulness.
If you want to see German soldiers in the years leading up to the war- or during the early days- but with nary a hint of the pictures seered into our brains from Hollywood movies or documentaries about the men of the Third Reich, you'll find this Russian site as compelling and queasily upsetting as I did. It's a collection of fully-scanned, black and white albums of a time that still makes us tremble with the ghostly sound of goose-stepping boots and perfect rows of robotic, clean-shaven youthful men, marching into horror-- becoming it-- and hardly noticing the inhumanity of what was to be the biggest genocide in history.
Why these German photo albums surfaced in Russia is anybody's guess....perhaps they were taken after the Battle of Stalingrad; perhaps even confiscated from the detritus of the dead, but however they came to be, they are testament to how perfectly innocent a rabid cause starts out in comradeship, and in groups who live and meld together into a machine beyond individual control. These are the early years of the war- or directly preceding it. Tell me if you do not experience a knee-jerk chill just looking at those insignias, those uniforms-- the bright young faces. My god, how madmen- even today, even with US- can still mount monumental horrors in this world.
February 04, 2008~ 7:15pm
I'm still thinking about the banality of evil; still pondering how often those who look perfectly benign or even charming, can house predatory-- dangerous--or even murderous natures. This obsession of mine goes all the way back to when I was just a bitty thing and watched Robert Mitchum as the killer/preacher in "Night of the Hunter". It's stuck with me- that combination of charm and deadliness. The movie gave me nightmares, and the nightmares have persisted in the form of obsessing, so I often wonder if I'd recognize the thing if presented with it face to face. I rather doubt it. For example, everyone knows this face
Now there's the perfect example of what I'm talking about, and tonight I came upon an online copy of a letter he'd written from prison to one of his admirers. (Amateur graphology is a hobby of mine, so I studied the looping, over-crowded script with great interest-- maybe if I could just see a sample of handwriting, I'd know.) I recall working with a chart a few years ago and being particularly alarmed by the evidence of bottled rage in the person's script. I mean, it was really apparent in the pressure of the strokes- the heavy, slashed t-crosses and underlinings- the disorganization, etc.- and I made a small note for staff only that if ever angered, this one would be a problem. I was right.) I always trust what I see when looking at a sample of a person's hand.
Here then is Bundy's with its initial, heavy strokes that begin below the line of text-- (anger from the past, old conflicts and the inability to set them aside.) The overall look of the writing is crowded, unsettling-- but most disturbing of all are the long, long loops in the letter 'p' and 'y'. If you ever see those- and especially if you see them intersecting the letters below them, know that you are looking at a sex addict of one type or other. Here the intersecting and the overlap signify that the overblown libido has entered all other aspects of his life: it's never 'not present'- either in life, or in the handwriting. The pressure is heavy. There is a STRONG WILL at work here-- and what should be a nearly horizontal line of writing is wavy instead- (mood swings, lack of control)-- but most telling is the strange configuration in the letter 'f'. (Any letter that is weirdly formed consistently is a telltale sign of aberration of personality- and by god, those Ted 'f's' look like an open sack he'd use to catch things with! (A 'trap'?) Is that the hole people fell into when he charmed them? Trusted him?
Note the small 't' in "ted". That indicates a horribly stunted sense of self-- so despite the grandiose looking script, the man himself felt 'small'- and yes, we all know he eventually lashed out in unspeakable ways- and then lapped-up the limelight. It's weird to see a conversational letter from Ted Bundy that at the end mentions the 'Browns' and the NFL. (Chances are the 'Cathy' being written to was a Brown's fan. And note the flirtatious, "pps- My eyes are blue"- at the end. He knew exactly how to hook prey-- always confident of what he could use, even from prison, to get (as he mentions here) 'money orders and stamps.')
I do wish they were easier to spot right off, these monsters. The charmers- the ones with a facile command of speech, and a whole personal 'Walmart store' of lines to use on folks. Do I think he was crazy? No.
If insane, I don't believe he could have persisted as long and as convincingly as he did. He was something much more dangerous- he was morally twisted and out of control- and he knew it- but his genius was his ability to compartmentalize that darkness, then let it out when he'd arranged it perfectly. I think at the end, he lost that ability totally. He spree-killed. No control left at all.
So be careful out there. Evil often doesn't look like it. (Remember the original apple?- and remember the high price we paid for that one?)-- so use caution. (And if you can, get them to write something down..LOL...it's damn near foolproof.)
February 05, 2008~ 7:15pm
Who is Lawrence Lessig...and why should we care what he thinks?
To answer the first question, go here-- a bright, articulate, creative man with principles -(my god, does anybody even use that phrase anymore?) And the reason why we should listen is because he's written a terrific piece contrasting the difference between Hillary and Barak Obama.
It's simple and insightful, and it will make you think. Anyone who's convinced 'a Democrat is a Democrat is a Democrat' couldn't be more mistaken. I loved Bill Clinton in his heyday, but I've never cared for the cold demeanor nor the shrill brashness of his wife. Hillary does not 'orate'- she shouts: she's more ambitious than inspired. She is abrasive.
By personal observation, she's been primarily a self-serving politician from her over-achieving college days on, with the core difference between these two being Hillary's emphasis on POLITICS over CHARACTER, and this always pisses me off. I do not want to see this country hoodwinked-- ever again.
Mr. Obama has shown his mettle time and again. He does not waffle on principles (yes, there's that word again) and has the inspirational gifts to lead this nation out of eight years of utter darkness, whereas the feminist does not. (And I am shocked at how her husband has joined in this race by using 'junkyard dog' tactics, trying to throw whatever wrenches he has into a political struggle that is no longer his own- but the former president seems to have forgotten that.) This has been of the greatest disappointment for me in the past weeks.
Take a few moments and give this Lessig thought-piece the time to settle in nicely with your decision-making synapses and remember it. Just pay attention is all, because this is more than TV melodrama, this is our lives and our futures we're deciding. Open your hearts- as well as your minds.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
Did you ever feel there is something large and mysterious, hovering just over us? Some call it God, and some 'Fate'- or the 'Over Soul', but I believe it's there. Sometimes oppressively-- and sometimes as soft as a lullaby or the scent of something sweet in every breath we breathe, but there is a presence...I am convinced of that.
Remember in "Third Rock From the Sun", they talked about the 'Giant Head'...I think there's one out there floating- serene, but scary as hell. Skin red as fire. Eyes closed because it doesn't have to see, it knows...everything. It knows how all this is going to turn out and it abides- never actually touching, never connecting, except telepathically- and like the obelisk in '2001:A Space Odyssey'- it hums. And the hum is life.
Walking out into a supremely still winter night where only sound is the cracking of frost under the shoes, staring up at stars from inside a fog of breath hitting cold air-
you can almost hear it- but not quite.
I think this little feller knows. Ain't he cute? Twenty five centuries old, from central Mexico; I think he should know the BIG GUY intimately.
I believe those are protections written all over him. He takes no chances. That's why he's lasted this long. I am partial to sculpture; especially pudgy little things like this- squat and funny- sturdy little nuggets that have heft, and a low center of gravity.
They make me feel safe. In the same way thinking about the Giant Head does not. LOL! I wish I could seer into the future--- I'd love to know what the world will be in another hundred years after I am gone. And for heaven sake.....will these be 'the good old days'?-- hard to believe, but by that time maybe they will be. That seems to be the case with days gone by. Though it's impossible to imagine anyone hankering longingly after the crap we have around us now, but believe it or not, perhaps the world will grow even more disconnected and impersonal, and warring.
My gosh- wouldn't you like to put on the yellowish magic glasses and just glimpse it?
And right in the middle of the vision there's still the lost child in all of us, plain and shy, looking out with those eyes- the big eyes are what you remember- lit like torches. Lighting the way- trying to find the path- as we all are- in our wanderings from the cradle on: we want to be safe. But to be alive is the exact opposite. It's taken me fifty years to be comfortable with that, but I've done it. Nothing is safe. And everything is monstrous......
Life is the tension between these two.
February 03, 2008~ 9:454m
I came upon a strange and fascinatingly disturbing site tonight. Strange, because it gives a startlingly banal face to evil and that makes me uncomfortable having gotten used to casting certain characters in hated roles... and it carries the dark under-knowledge of what this fresh-faced army was about-- the Nazi stormtroopers of WWII. The site feels much like the creepy picture below, that fairly vibrates with a wrongness- just beneath its surface playfulness.
If you want to see German soldiers in the years leading up to the war- or during the early days- but with nary a hint of the pictures seered into our brains from Hollywood movies or documentaries about the men of the Third Reich, you'll find this Russian site as compelling and queasily upsetting as I did. It's a collection of fully-scanned, black and white albums of a time that still makes us tremble with the ghostly sound of goose-stepping boots and perfect rows of robotic, clean-shaven youthful men, marching into horror-- becoming it-- and hardly noticing the inhumanity of what was to be the biggest genocide in history.
Why these German photo albums surfaced in Russia is anybody's guess....perhaps they were taken after the Battle of Stalingrad; perhaps even confiscated from the detritus of the dead, but however they came to be, they are testament to how perfectly innocent a rabid cause starts out in comradeship, and in groups who live and meld together into a machine beyond individual control. These are the early years of the war- or directly preceding it. Tell me if you do not experience a knee-jerk chill just looking at those insignias, those uniforms-- the bright young faces. My god, how madmen- even today, even with US- can still mount monumental horrors in this world.
February 04, 2008~ 7:15pm
I'm still thinking about the banality of evil; still pondering how often those who look perfectly benign or even charming, can house predatory-- dangerous--or even murderous natures. This obsession of mine goes all the way back to when I was just a bitty thing and watched Robert Mitchum as the killer/preacher in "Night of the Hunter". It's stuck with me- that combination of charm and deadliness. The movie gave me nightmares, and the nightmares have persisted in the form of obsessing, so I often wonder if I'd recognize the thing if presented with it face to face. I rather doubt it. For example, everyone knows this face
Now there's the perfect example of what I'm talking about, and tonight I came upon an online copy of a letter he'd written from prison to one of his admirers. (Amateur graphology is a hobby of mine, so I studied the looping, over-crowded script with great interest-- maybe if I could just see a sample of handwriting, I'd know.) I recall working with a chart a few years ago and being particularly alarmed by the evidence of bottled rage in the person's script. I mean, it was really apparent in the pressure of the strokes- the heavy, slashed t-crosses and underlinings- the disorganization, etc.- and I made a small note for staff only that if ever angered, this one would be a problem. I was right.) I always trust what I see when looking at a sample of a person's hand.
Here then is Bundy's with its initial, heavy strokes that begin below the line of text-- (anger from the past, old conflicts and the inability to set them aside.) The overall look of the writing is crowded, unsettling-- but most disturbing of all are the long, long loops in the letter 'p' and 'y'. If you ever see those- and especially if you see them intersecting the letters below them, know that you are looking at a sex addict of one type or other. Here the intersecting and the overlap signify that the overblown libido has entered all other aspects of his life: it's never 'not present'- either in life, or in the handwriting. The pressure is heavy. There is a STRONG WILL at work here-- and what should be a nearly horizontal line of writing is wavy instead- (mood swings, lack of control)-- but most telling is the strange configuration in the letter 'f'. (Any letter that is weirdly formed consistently is a telltale sign of aberration of personality- and by god, those Ted 'f's' look like an open sack he'd use to catch things with! (A 'trap'?) Is that the hole people fell into when he charmed them? Trusted him?
Note the small 't' in "ted". That indicates a horribly stunted sense of self-- so despite the grandiose looking script, the man himself felt 'small'- and yes, we all know he eventually lashed out in unspeakable ways- and then lapped-up the limelight. It's weird to see a conversational letter from Ted Bundy that at the end mentions the 'Browns' and the NFL. (Chances are the 'Cathy' being written to was a Brown's fan. And note the flirtatious, "pps- My eyes are blue"- at the end. He knew exactly how to hook prey-- always confident of what he could use, even from prison, to get (as he mentions here) 'money orders and stamps.')
I do wish they were easier to spot right off, these monsters. The charmers- the ones with a facile command of speech, and a whole personal 'Walmart store' of lines to use on folks. Do I think he was crazy? No.
If insane, I don't believe he could have persisted as long and as convincingly as he did. He was something much more dangerous- he was morally twisted and out of control- and he knew it- but his genius was his ability to compartmentalize that darkness, then let it out when he'd arranged it perfectly. I think at the end, he lost that ability totally. He spree-killed. No control left at all.
So be careful out there. Evil often doesn't look like it. (Remember the original apple?- and remember the high price we paid for that one?)-- so use caution. (And if you can, get them to write something down..LOL...it's damn near foolproof.)
February 05, 2008~ 7:15pm
Who is Lawrence Lessig...and why should we care what he thinks?
To answer the first question, go here-- a bright, articulate, creative man with principles -(my god, does anybody even use that phrase anymore?) And the reason why we should listen is because he's written a terrific piece contrasting the difference between Hillary and Barak Obama.
It's simple and insightful, and it will make you think. Anyone who's convinced 'a Democrat is a Democrat is a Democrat' couldn't be more mistaken. I loved Bill Clinton in his heyday, but I've never cared for the cold demeanor nor the shrill brashness of his wife. Hillary does not 'orate'- she shouts: she's more ambitious than inspired. She is abrasive.
By personal observation, she's been primarily a self-serving politician from her over-achieving college days on, with the core difference between these two being Hillary's emphasis on POLITICS over CHARACTER, and this always pisses me off. I do not want to see this country hoodwinked-- ever again.
Mr. Obama has shown his mettle time and again. He does not waffle on principles (yes, there's that word again) and has the inspirational gifts to lead this nation out of eight years of utter darkness, whereas the feminist does not. (And I am shocked at how her husband has joined in this race by using 'junkyard dog' tactics, trying to throw whatever wrenches he has into a political struggle that is no longer his own- but the former president seems to have forgotten that.) This has been of the greatest disappointment for me in the past weeks.
Take a few moments and give this Lessig thought-piece the time to settle in nicely with your decision-making synapses and remember it. Just pay attention is all, because this is more than TV melodrama, this is our lives and our futures we're deciding. Open your hearts- as well as your minds.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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