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Aww, Bono is awash in sad tears over the state of angry young men, because girly. The Girly™, it’s ruining everything!
I think music has gotten very girly. And there are some good things about that, but hip-hop is the only place for young male anger at the moment – and that’s not good. When I was 16, I had a lot of anger in me. You need to find a place for it and for guitars, whether it is with a drum machine – I don’t care. The moment something becomes preserved, it is fucking over. You might as well put it in formaldehyde. In the end, what is rock & roll? Rage is at the heart of it. Some great rock & roll tends to have that, which is why the Who were such a great band. Or Pearl Jam. Eddie has that rage.
Oh, the poor, poor young men, who will cry for them? Golly, such a terrible state of affairs when an angry young dude just can’t pick up a guitar, or bangsmash on a drum set, howl out their angst, or write a poor, pitiful me ode, because Girly™. Of course, it’s imfuckingpossible for women to be angry, because what on earth do ‘girls’ have to be angry about, right? Bono, an old white dude afloat on money and privilege, being a seriously bone-headed twit. Sorry dude, you aren’t relevant anymore, you’re plain old white male moneyed establishment. You can go fuck off, and in doing so, make way for the angry, sarcastic women…
CN: icky medical stuff. If you’re sensitive, don’t read.
Sore. Punctured. Bruised. Discoloured. I’m 7 days out from diagnosis, 6 days out from surgery. My protruding gut is still very swollen, and it feels so damn heavy. It’s difficult to walk with a straight back. My stomach muscles screech in protest over normal movements. Not so normal now. I feel…limited.
Today, I showered, and soaked off all the steri-strips and caked blood. Then it was time for a bag change. The instructions all say to rinse the old bag, then put it in a plastic baggie, seal it, then put that in a second baggie. They come with the stigma and shame included. I rinsed mine out and tossed it in the trash. There is a sense of revulsion; of a loss of control. I expect that will lessen with practice and experience. I don’t even know how to describe what it’s like, gently cleaning off an internal organ.
It hit early this morning – for the first time in my life, I feel old. Frail. I despise feeling this way. Somewhere, under the weight of this, is my usual self, but I don’t feel as though I can shift this density off. I know I need to eat, but I can’t find my appetite. I do have the perfect excuse to over indulge in ice cream though.
Patience is not a virtue I possess; I hate all the waiting. I won’t even see the radiation therapy Doc until 1/15. I just want this done. I want to rip out this part of me gone rogue, stomp it to death and get back to my life. I want my gut back on the inside where it belongs. This is all going to take so damn long.
My hair keeps trailing through my thoughts. How long do I try to keep it? Do I hope it doesn’t start falling out during radiation therapy? Can I manage to keep it until chemo starts? I don’t know, but the thought of losing my hair is bugging me more and more. I know it’s a minor thing; hair grows back. Still, this is what I get stuck on – having to surrender those 39 inches of hair.
I need to get my studio cleaned up, because I’ll have to start painting soon, it’s the only emotional outlet I have. Ideas flit in and out, nothing has settled yet. Feeling like broken pieces of coloured glass; there’s no coherence yet, the brighter colours subsumed by a muddied swirl of black, maroon, and purple, with threads of brightly spilled blood throughout.
I won’t be inflicting these chronicles on you all too often, just as the mood and need strike.
ETA: I put my rings back on. I was instructed to remove all jewelry for the colonoscopy, so I did, and then I ended up in hospital for four days. I thought about putting them back on when I got home, but just let them lie. I shouldn’t have done that, because nekkid fingers aren’t me. I think I need some new rings. Yep, I do. The little things, they aren’t so little.
Tony Perkins, president of the anti-LGBTQ group Family Research Council, urged FRC Action members to join him in praying that God grants wisdom and protection to President Trump and to display a “PRAY FOR PRESIDENT TRUMP” bumper sticker on their vehicles so others do the same.
They don’t need to pray for the Tiny Tyrant, they need to pray for a better bumper sticker designer, that thing is awful. Really awful. You could choose a high school student at random, and I’m pretty sure they’d do a better job than this mess. This sticker is like an advertisement of how to do design wrong in every way. Part of the FRC letter reads:
I’m not ashamed to say it: I PRAY FOR PRESIDENT TRUMP!
You too, I’m sure!
I can tell you firsthand, Donald Trump needs and appreciates our prayers—for God’s wisdom and guidance, for His grace and protection, and for His will to be done and our nation blessed to the glory of God.
As committed followers of Jesus Christ, we are directed to pray for the leaders God has placed in authority across our land. All Americans—especially God’s people—could probably use a gentle reminder in these troubled times.
I’m not in the ‘god’s people’ category, so I’d thank you to keep your “gentle reminder” to yourself, especially when that reminder is a glaring monument to ugly design and bad taste. That’s the sort of thing, that seen while on the road, can result in an hour long rant about people who think there’s nothing at all to that there design business. Aaarrrgggh. Anyroad, going by your own holy book, you aren’t supposed to be announcing your prayers or making a big public deal about them. It’s amazing how you christian assholes never pay attention to that bit.
The letter, which goes on for quite a while, includes a custom tailored petition. Here’s a bit:
…your personal petition will let our leaders in Washington know that you’re not only praying for President Trump but also for them to pass the conservative agenda WE voted for last November!
Specifically, it lets them know which issues – the ones you check off – that you’re praying for them to work on with President Trump to enact, including:
Defunding abortion giant Planned Parenthood.
Reforming the tax code to make it more family friendly.
Standing with the nation of Israel.
Repealing provisions of the Johnson Amendment which prevent Christian pastors from speaking out on many key issues deemed “political” by the IRS.
Restoring religious liberty for all Americans, including:
-Small business owners declining to help celebrate same-sex weddings.
-Doctors and nurses refusing to perform abortions.
-Military chaplains refusing to deny their Christian faith.
Of the blackbird. Isidore says of the blackbird: ‘The blackbird in ancient times was called medula, because it sang rhythmically.’ Others say that it was called merula, because it flew on its own, mera volans, so to speak. Although it is black wherever it is found, there is a white species in Achaia. The blackbird is small but black. It represents those tainted by the blackness of sin. The blackbird both moves and charms itself by the sweetness of its own voice. It represents those who are tempted by the suggestion of carnal pleasures. In fact, the blessed Gregory refers to this in his book of Dialogues, when he recounts how the blackbird came on the wing to the blessed Benedict and how after the departure of the bird, he was tempted with the fire of lust.
Gregory says: One day when the blessed Benedict was alone, the tempter appeared. For a small, black bird, commonly called a blackbird, began to fly around his head and to come up close to his face in a cheeky fashion, so that Benedict could have taken it in his hand if the saint had wanted to hold it. But he made the sign of the cross and the bird flew away. Such a temptation of the flesh as followed the departure of the bird, the saint had never experienced. For the evil spirit now brought before his inner eye the image of a woman whom Benedict had once seen. And the mind of the servant of God burned with such fire at the sight of her, that the flame of his love could scarcely contain itself in his breast and, overcome by desire, he now almost resolved to quit the wilderness. When suddenly, touched by the grace of heaven, he recovered himself, and seeing thick bushes of nettles and thorns growing nearby, he stripped off the garment he was wearing and threw himself naked amid the pricking thorns and stinging nettles. And having rolled in them, he emerged with his body covered in wounds, and through these wounds to his skin he discharged from his body the wound to his soul, because he transformed his desire into pain.
Yikes. Seriously, not a selling point for christianity. Blackbirds are among my favourite birds, and I can quite honestly say that not one of them has made me be overcome with horniness.
The blackbird in flight, therefore, represents enticement, tempting you to desire. If you want, therefore, to reject the desire symbolised by the blackbird, you must follow the example of the blessed Benedict and turn instead to the correction of discipline and thus rid yourself of pleasures of the mind by inflicting pain on your flesh. In the regions of Achaia, according to Isidore, there are white blackbirds. A white blackbird represents purity of will. But by Achaia we understand the industrious sister. There are two sisters, Rachel and Leah, namely the active and the contemplative life. Leah we take to be the industrious one. The active life teaches us to devote ourselves to works of charity, to teach men who lack discernment, to have the purity of chastity, to work with our own hands. This is Achaia, the active life. In Achaia, therefore, like the white blackbirds, live those who live chastely the active life.
Marked by an impassive matter-of-fact manner, style, or expression.
1: a completely expressionless face.
2: a deadpan manner of behaviour or presentation.
To express in a deadpan manner.
“Cold enough,” Tristan hazarded, “to form a Bose-Einstein condensate?” “I love it when you talk dirty,” Oda said, so perfectly deadpan that I did a double take.” – The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O., Neal Stephenson and Nicole Galland.
Of the stork Storks get their name, ciconie, from the creaking sound they make, like crickets, cicanie. The sound comes from their mouth rather than their voice, because they make it by clashing their bills. Storks are the heralds of spring; they share a sense of community; they are the enemies of snakes; they fly across the sea, making their way in flocks to Asia. Crows go in front of them as their guides, the storks following them as if in an army. Storks possess a strong sense of duty towards their young. They are so keen to keep their nests warm that their feathers fall out as a result of the constant incubation. But their young spend as much time caring for them when they grow old, as they spend caring for their young.
Storks make a sound by clashing their bills. They represent those who ‘with weeping and gnashing of teeth’ (Matthew, 8:12) proclaim from their own mouths the evil they have done. Storks herald the spring, like those who demonstrate to others the moderation of a mind that has undergone conversion. They have a sense of community like those who live willingly in the community of their brothers. It is said also that the stork is the enemy of snakes. Snakes are evil thoughts or evil brothers; the stork strikes snakes with its bill, as the righteous check evil thoughts or reprimand their wicked brothers with penetrating rebukes.
Storks fly across the sea and make their way in flocks to Asia. Asia signifies heavenly things. Those people also fly across the sea to Asia, therefore, who, scorning the commotions of the world, aim for higher things. Storks are are notably devoted to their young, with the result that their feathers fall out from constant incubation. Storks lose their feathers from the constant incubation of their young in the same way that prelates, when they nourish those in their charge, pluck out from their own bodies the feathers of excess and weakness. Young storks spend as much time caring for their parents as their parents spent on rearing them. Storks must nourish their young in proportion to their need, in the same way that prelates should feed their disciples with instruction according to their need. Likewise the prelates’ flock should support them with their efforts and provide them with the necessities they lack. Thus the turtle-dove, the swallow and the stork are a living reproach to those who do not believe that Christ came in the flesh and do not go in fear of the judgement of the Lord to come.