Friday, June 30, 2017



The rippled and rippling reflection pool under the portal bridge to Point State Park in Pittsburgh, which is itself under a bridge.  Or two.



The election was almost seven months ago.

The inauguration was over five months ago.

While I herein have no beef with the system which allowed these events to occur, and acknowledge the sanctity of the process of a peaceable exchange of leadership in our country, I just can't use the word President before his name. It seems surreal. Like a bad joke. Like a betrayal of the office of President of the United States.

While mine wouldn't be the first, last, or worst betrayal of the office, it is mine with which I wrestle.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Depression, Anxiety, and PTSD: A CNN article.

Read this.

Tell me exactly what the psychologist, James Rubin from Kings College, says about the mental effects of climate change.


Not a damn thing.

He has studied and discusses the mental impact of flooding.

The author of the report put (climate change) in parenthesis in a direct quote from Rubin as well interspersed Rubin's words with tidbits about flooding events "expected to rise," "could be heat waves," plus a bunch of other horrors and finally "suicide for those who cannot cope."

Rubin is concerned about the mental health of people who experience natural disasters and doesn't think the problems will necessarily go away on their own.

He recommends that adequate mental health services be provided as standard parts of a response effort and that risk factors be identified to help protect people from developing any of these conditions in the first place, such as helping people who have been cut off from social support services or preventing extensive damage to homes.
At no time does he talk about the impact of climate change on mental health. But that doesn't stop the author from putting this beauty forth at the end of the section with Dr. Rubin:

But the feelings will always be there -- worry, anxiety, fear -- feelings many people not just around the world are experiencing as they think about the future of the Earth. 
Bait and switch. Subliminal messaging. Fake it 'til you make it.

Whatever you want to call it, this "reporting" from CNN causes me great anxiety. Now I'm a slightly depressed.  And CNN has a bad case of PTSD, if PTSD means Prone to Transmit Slanted Data.  

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

ICE: An Unscheduled One

Tiny snaps underfoot titillate.
Stepping gingerly. Sliding slightly.
Leveraging stability for euphoria,
Beckons venturing further afield.

The promised rush of nothingness.
No weight. No worries. No world.

Latent ice in her veins freezes,
And cracks.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

My dog.

This is my dog.
This is my happy dog.
This is my happy dog hightailing away from me.
This is my happy dog hightailing away from me after I had him in a headlock.
This is my happy dog hightailing away from me after I had him in a headlock to take a picture with me.

This is my dog after having to take a picture with me. 


And now you know why. 

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Living Large

Last night I went with a friend to see the National Theatre's movie presentation of Hamlet starring Benedict Cumberbatch as the tortured Dane. I was so proud of myself for agreeing to go out on a weeknight and see a movie of a Shakespearean play that I didn't think my night could get any better.

It did. 

There was a bar at the theatre! 

It's not that I would in any way need a bar to sit through four hours of Shakespeare. No! It's just that it was such an unexpected delight. It's almost like I hadn't been to the movies since they invented the reclining seats. But, I digress. 

Not only did the theatre have a bar, but there was "real" food.  (By "real" food in this context I mean anything not made by Mars, Incorporated or deep fried.)  As it was the Ides (of November, so not really), I ordered the Caesar chicken salad wrap. After many, many minutes and missing the beginning of the Cumberbatch mini-interview, I got my food and settled into my recliner to watch. Wrapped up in the witty words, I then proceeded to dip my down vest into the dripped Caesar dressing. After a while, despite their elevation, my feet started to swell because of the salty food and I thought I was going to have to strip naked because of the heat in the auditorium. 

Other than that, and being completely appreciative that my friend drove in the rainy dark, I am totally killin' it with my sassy, devil-may-care, I-can-stay-out-past-10-on-a-weeknight attitude! 

Regarding the play, not only was Mr. Cumberbatch a wonderfully physical Hamlet, but Claudius was none other than Ciaran Hinds! (I love him!) While some of the smaller parts were not as well inhabited (I could not really understand Horatio and his was not a small role), the massive and creative staging contributed perfectly to the somber mood and big drama.  

I'd do it again.
On a weekend.
Minus the Caesar salad.