moved to start a new blog. I'm not sure what I'm going
to call this one: Ace of Swords? Straight From the
Shoulder? The Adventures of Razor Mouth? The Crone's
I'm a Compulsive Expressor. I'll be 60 in another
2 months and I don't feel like pulling my punches
any more. In truth, I have a sunny disposition. But
I also have many hot coals in my mouth which I must
spit out. I tend to express along the entire spectrum
of my experience and in an impassioned way. This blog's
subject matter will range from the soup I just cooked,
to my views on the Iraq War, to the most esoteric
contemplations about spirituality, to my adventures
in gardening, to the books I'm reading, and the news
from the National Enquirer. The only thing I require
of a blog is the right to fully articulate whatever
I lead a modest lifestyle in which there many pleasures
and not much stress. At this time in my life, I don't
have much to be unhappy about and I'm very skilled
at self-gratification. That doesn't mean I haven't
experienced deprivation, loss, insanity, physical
and emotional pain, humiliation, fear, anxiety, abuse,
health crises, near death experiences, and painful
social dilemmas . . .in other words, the normal range
of human sorrows. But at 60, I'm pretty much at peace
with my Self, having removed just about every source
of externally imposed misery from my life except for
the handicaps of aging. I am, however, expecting the
skies to rain fire into my paradise at any moment.
a social recluse who works at home doing things I
love to do. I have my beloved dogs, I have the paradise
of the Pacific Northwest and live in a very pleasant
neighborhood. I recently moved into the first home
I've ever owned and I'm having a ball playing house
with my husband, Robert, who is the King of All Men.
I was blessed with a great education and loved every
minute of it. I have an unlimited supply of fabulous
reading. I earn a living by making pretty things to
sell. I take ecstatic pleasure in very simple things,
so delight is always close at hand. Tralala,
skipping merrily down the lane.
I don't get depressed about much in my personal life.
But I do feel despair over many things that are happening
to other men, women, and children. Or to animals.
The primary causes of unhappiness for me is inhumane
behavior, violence, murder, deceit, torture, rape,
abuse of authority, injustice, misuse of resources,
disrespect for the natural world, and . . . the intentional
ignorance and emotional dissociation which is among
the primary causes of all this. Naturally, I don't
exclude myself from this ethical stance.
am particularly bummed out about the possibility that
humans may eradicate themselves and everything around
them in this century due to thoughtless stupidity.
I think it's a real possibility and I can't remember
a time in my life when I wasn't worried about it.
That's what comes with the Baby Boomer territory for
many of us who grew up in the atomic Cold War era.
So I tend to think a lot about how we could stop fucking
ourselves and the world along with us. I like to identify
the culprits of stupidity and intentional ignorance
(within myself and anywhere else I find it) and verbally
beat them over the head. If you read my blog, you
will find, mixed in with The Fabulous Life of Dana,
the spewing of disdain and grinding of idiots under
my rhetorical boot. But how meanspirited can that
be? After all, I'm not bombing or incinerating anybody
like some people I will mention. The key thing here
is that I intend to write what I think and feel and
if you don't like what I write here, don't read it.
Or just skip to the pleasantries, of which there will
be many. Isn't that perfect?
I might add a comment box here. I may add a forum.
But what I like about blogs is that they are unilateral
communications, not debates. The first 60 years of
my life was for argumentation. I think I'll grant
myself another 60 years of just having my say.