Reboot

He’d been getting underground Crisper treatments for years. Maybe his new friends didn’t suspect, but I knew Elray back in the 90s, when I was in high school and he was pushing 40. He should have been in his late 70s, but with a full head of jet black hair and athletic build, he looked younger than when I hung out with him. Plus he had to be eight inches taller. He was all brilliant white smiles as he walked up to me in his signature black tuxedo, through the crowd of retro-punks and retro-mods.

We are Waves

We are, all of us, waves in the ocean

Made of the stuff around us

Is That All There Is?

Oh look – I sing you a little song about life:

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Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? For more sound and moving pictures, click the flower:

What Does it Mean to Be an Individual: The video!

Well, here I am again, this time in video form. But, as you will see, what I mean by “I” I’m not sure….

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Tragically, this isn’t the first time my videos have muscled their way into my blog. Click the flower for another video intrusion:

possession

When we are friends with someone, we don’t say, “This person is a friend to me.” We say, ‘This is my friend.” My friend, my wife, my husband, my child, my cat. My, my, my. Ownership is big in our culture. Someone who lives on the Earth for a few dozen years can take a piece of land that’s been in existence for billions of years, plant a flag and say, “I own this land.” And if the owner lives here in the U.S., he or she can then shoot someone who wonders on to that land – land that previously was just part of the planet and will sit there for billions of years after its new owner has turned to dust and recycled back into the land.

Life

A new video on Daisybrain’s Youtube channel

Here I am, on a roller coaster both metaphorical and actual, talking about life & how we perceive things differently depending on our age, our political orientation & whether we are human, dog or cat…

Life

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Some blogs are about poetry. Here’s a poem about blogging.

Musings on Friendship

I think that life is the process of feeling more and more distant from people and alone until you die. I come to this conclusion by examining my friendships over the years. In high school and into my 20s, friends were friends. With no obligations or sense of responsibility, our only mission was to have creative fun together. Although we were flawed as human beings, I felt a sense of completion when hanging out and trying to do fun things. In my 30s, I had “friends,” but these relationships always felt superficial. I never felt a deep connection that I longed to have with people. Now in my 40s, at most I have, outside of my family, work acquaintances with whom I am friendly.