Feral. Terrible anxiety, continuous horror.

"I am the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to me."

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But first:   The Unist'ot'en Camp needs help.                                                             Please respond as you are able to.

Continuous horror? Not true of course, it's not continuous, just more and more frequent and lasting longer each time so that even with the Alz' discount the memories begin to overlap - but it still passes, eventually, and a grin reappears in the soul's mirror (as well as the one on the door of the bathroom cabinet). The nature of these brags reveals the quality of the despair (as any fool can plainly see). Awful. Belittled abandoned and alone; old and gasping-weak too as it happens. Oh my. Very few of you will understand that this is not a complaint. :-) It's more important then (if one is going to comprehend this verbal montage) to take in and understand the full meaning of feral: of an animal - wild, untamed; of a plant (and rarely of ground) - uncultivated; often applied to animals or plants that have lapsed into a wild from a domesticated condition. There is a sliver of opportunity here to expand the term (in addition to already ubiquitous figurative uses) to include rewilded humans not already covered by berserkers or psychosis, and even (getting far-fetched now) those who might have been civilized but weren't. The præterite. So. "As Sicknes is the greatest misery, so the greatest misery of sicknes, is solitude; when the infectiousnes of the disease deterrs them who should assist, from comming; even the Phisician dares scarse come.     Solitude is a torment which is not threatned in hell it selfe." (John Donne, 1624.) Oh sure, I'm negative, bitter, a convoluted bastard, an asshole, what not; all true. No wonder sensible people stay the fuck away. But, in my defence, "There's more to the story." Am I permitted to say that Yer Honour? Can I ever even begin to balance the account? Will this help? Try reading George Marshall 'Don't Even Think About It: Why our brains are wired to ignore climate change' (2014) available at the Toronto library and with a variety of on-line YouTube presentations both long and short. There are so many diverse chapters and so much hopeful action-oriented material (despite indications in the title) that this is a book one should perhaps purchase so as to be able to keep marginal notes. (But please, not from Amazon.com.) More information is available on the Climate Outreach website. There's a copy up on Book ZZ (for now at least). Positive Thinking - Polishing Turds: There's so much to be said on this important subject - Wiley Miller's excellent cartoon is presented as representative not comprehensive. The mindless enforcers of politically correct falsehood & stupidity have brought the movement down, crippled it; and the sickening miasma of blooms of correctitude rotting on the beach is worse almost than the sulphur stink of crude oil and sour gas.

Dim postscript in grey / Caveat Lector:   "I am leaving; I am leaving; but the fighter still remains," sings Simply Superficial Simon. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," says the Red Queen, somewhat more forthright than she really needs to be. In James we find: "What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works? can faith save him? If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works: shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works." This is part of the Roman Catholic lectionary for September 13th as it happens. The complete entry is: Isaiah 50:4-9, Psalm 116:1-9, James 2:14-18, Galatians 6:14, and Mark 8:27-35. I cannot immediately see whatever it is that strings them together. I guess it's a subtle plan to draw one so far into abstractions that both faith and works are forgotten.

You can read Kipling's story The Cat that Walked by Himself on-line. But not at Gutenberg.org - they are (apparently) replacing HTML & PDF versions with proprietary formats which require a proprietary reader. There are ways around it for now - on-line conversion websites such as http://www.convertfiles.com/ - but it is easy enough to shut these down later like they did with DVD-Decrypter.exe. Like the man said, "Cooperation is good but control is better." Background music from The Rolling Stones: thinking of 'High & Dry' ... but found a YouTube with the complete album 'Aftermath' which is even better. Serena Williams: The woman in these portraits appears so different one wonders if there's been a mistake: Is one of them Venus or some stranger? Has there been plastic surgery? Who knows? And then too, it's the Internet eh? The image on the left is the It's-All-About-Me! bikini; and on the right comes from a recent bit of fluffy pop/racial punditry in the NYT, done by a photographer who may not be above digital manipulation - slowly scanning down gives me vertigo and finally, noticing her slightly parted lips, an odd surprise - but not a thrill. The writer mentions that some are put off by Serena's strength and physique - not me, I admire it; though I'm sure she dances as close to the edge of steroid abuse as she dares. Serena shills for J.P. Morgan and Nike; Bob shills for Victoria's Secret and Cadillac; how much inertia each lends to the killing machine is unclear. Does anyone really care? Anymore? Did anyone ever? Government revealed as approximately feminine: Amazon revealed as approximately masculine: The Pope visits Amerika: (in the season of accelerating darkness as we approach the equinox)    • Tuesday September 22 - arrives in Washington D.C. from Cuba;      • Wednesday 23rd - meets with Barack Obama, prays with U.S. bishops, says mass at the Junipero Serra canonization (God damn Junipero Serra!);      • Thursday 24th - gives a speech to a Joint Session of Congress, visits St. Patrick’s Church and Catholic Charities for lunch with the poor, travels to New York, prays at St. Patrick’s Cathedral;      • Friday 25th - visits the United Nations General-Assembly, the World Trade Center, and East Harlem, says mass in Madison Square Garden;      • Saturday 26th - travels to Philadelphia, says mass at Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, visits a shopping mall, visits and prays with the World Meeting of Families;      • Sunday 27th - meets with Bishops at Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary, visits Curran-Fromhold Correctional Facility (prison), visits and says mass with the World Meeting of Families, departs for Rome.   "And it's up against the wall you redneck mother." Canadian Election coming on Monday October 19:   (Thanks to Gord for some of these.) Duelling Pundits: The Closing of the Canadian Mind; The Delusions of the Canadian Mind; The Delusions of David Frum's Mind; and, A sign of closed liberal minds.   Earnest Hand Wringing: (a k-k-Canadian tradition upheld) Oh PUH-LEEZE get out there and vote; and Jean Chrétien 'Mr. Harper has shamed Canada'.   Insight medium-lite: Crawford Kilian on Reactionary Heroes; and Margaret Atwood on Hair, beards & tits, Preston Manning, and, The geezer vote.   A-and, the distaff side puttin' on rhetorical airs: Heather Mallick Stephen Harper's electoral trap, Margaret Wente Stephen Harper is toast, Tabatha Southey Stephen Harper isn’t perfect, and Antonia Maioni Siren song of strategic voting. One small ray of hope for Canada; a long-shot but not impossible: If the numbers give us a minority government  in which Elizabeth May holds the balance of power. UNFCCT - A murder of crows convenes in Paris: Joep Bertrams often puts enlightening bits of text around his creations, in this case it is: Kerkhof van de goede voornemens / Graveyard of good intentions. (Prophetic.) The best outcome of this ridiculous nonsense will be if the sleveen diplomats and hangers-on just decide not to show up - every last one of 'em; and instead speak out on the main streets of their home towns and and precincts and neighbourhoods. With a bit of the history of, say, socialist/anarchist communes in Spain from the early 1900s (and before) to the end of the Spanish Civil War in 1939 (and beyond); followed by an appeal to abandon governments, especially central ones, and see about taking up authentic local experimentation before it's too late. ¡YA BASTA! ¡YA BASTA!   Some may have noticed the presence of the Catalonian flag at a demonstration in Athens this year: The photograph graced an article in the New York Times: Loads of Debt: A Global Ailment With Few Cures with no clue given except in the caption: "Protesters wave a Greek flag and an 'Estelada' (Catalonian separatist flag) in front of the parliament building in Athens on Monday." Not surprising that the masters of the mainstream media do not want people musing too deeply on what happens when citizens start to vote seriously with their feet. Not quite monthly reminders in The Guardian: June 29 - UN climate talks moving at snail's pace, says Ban Ki-moon; July 28 - French climate ambassador, Laurence Tubiana, concerned over slow progress of draft Paris deal; and, September 4 - Climate stalemate in Bonn prompts call for world leaders to intervene. November 30: UNFCCT COP 21 conference in Paris begins. December 11: UNFCCT COP 21 conference in Paris ends.   Ho hum. Dénouement:   They won't finish on time. The metaphor and measure of their oh-so-sincere commitment to the 'process' will be dramatically demonstrated in how long they run over. Maybe they'll make it a full week this time to show us all how really really really REALLY REALLY hard they tried - before they folded without result. Imagine if they prolonged it to the solstice on the 21st! Symmetry and symbolism! But still, no useful outcome except their salaries and perquisites. Bollocks. Tells: Kipling was not uncomplicated. Find some strange and oblique approach - feminism say, or Adam giving names to the animals in Genesis - and then read the story again from that perspective; maybe some light'll get in. There are copies of Kipling's illustrations all over the place on the Internet. The one in my hardcopy (a cheap paperback) resembles the image above left, with a little white dot as the feline fundament. No idea what he may have intended if anything, just wondering is all ... a variety of disconnects in it - indicating some kind of ambiguity - which you can find for yourself if you are interested and ponder as you wish (starting with 'that' and 'himself' in the title). The story is penultimate. This seems to be the original order but it gives no clue about what he himself thought of 'The Cat that Walked by Himself' since the next (and last) story is 'The Butterfly that Stamped' which is for me the very best (just ahead of 'The Elephant's Child'). Mardi Gras, and then, six weeks later, Coup de Grâce ... given the state of petit bourgeois religion it might as well be Coup de Gras and Mardi Grâce the following year. Another curious inversion is taking place here as well: as communard moults & metamorphoses into isolato like a Monarch butterfly on a long journey; and discovers unexpected qualities in these conditions (being about side by each and so, suitable for comparison). "Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires." "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow." These are neither original nor unique states and conditions and situations. And Shakespeare's hero is not exactly complaining nor exactly making moral distinctions or judegments; he's saying Here it is. This is what it is. So. The thing about hysteria is that it vanishes away, like manna, before the noonday sun. An election in k-k-Canada on the 19th of September might remove Stephen Harper; a month later it's a toss up. But who cares? Justin Sinclair and Archibald Arseholedent are no better. There's talk of 'strategic voting'. A strategic vote might be best spent on Harper's Conservatives in the hope that their re-election would provoke revolt - at .001% probability or less, a long shot. I would say it's TOUTE FUCKÉE! except that it's not, quite; soon, close, a few months, but not today - not on the lucky 13th. One silly Canadian pundit calls the other a 'flatulent crank' and I just have to laugh.

 
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