What's happening with the oil catastrophe in the Gulf and the legislative catastrophes in Oklahoma (women's health and control of their own bodies) and Arizona (stalinist style personal identification state), I dare not even begin to write about them. My anger is so great that what will result at this time is incontinently incoherent.
Every damn month of 2010 there has been a massive natural catastrophe, including for April the Icelandic volcanic eruption plume (which some speculate is caused by the lessening weight of the melting glacial ice).
April, however, we've had a string of catastrophes that are entirely man-made: the mining disasters caused by capital's refusal to abide by mining safety standards resulting in the deaths of miners and their loss to their families, to the cruel anti-woman legislation in Oklahoma, the anti-migration laws in Arizona that are the freeway to denial of voting rights and arrest of anyone and everyone for nothing other than what the arrester feels like -- and which will do nothing to curb the global migration movements due to failed states, failed economies and climate change (you want to stop migration from Mexico to the U.S.? start with rolling back NAFTA -- you all know, right, how NAFTA serves BIG AGRI? and how quickly it destroyed Mexico's own agriculture?) -- and now this, BIG OIL BP creating yet another catastrophe for the Gulf.
No. I cannot write about these things without getting figuratively sick to my stomach from anger laced by disgust and fear at the keyboard.
Showing posts with label Gulf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gulf. Show all posts
Friday, April 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Southern Latitudes
I read in a New Orleans' Sunday's afternoon peace and quiet. Butterflies and dragon flies flutter by. The train and birds call. Puffy white clouds sail in the blue sky. Here on TR's balcony, just above the treetops I can see the container ships' towers on their way to offload on the other side of the levee.
Gulf air is soft. Gulf air is also presence. Your body pushes through it, it yields. Your body pays its toll for its presence within that presence -- sweat.
The words I just read startle me. They seem to be distilled Scott Fitzgerald but they were written by another writer.
" . . . the hour of apparant grace and promised music . . ."
Author's name behind the cut.
Gulf air is soft. Gulf air is also presence. Your body pushes through it, it yields. Your body pays its toll for its presence within that presence -- sweat.
The words I just read startle me. They seem to be distilled Scott Fitzgerald but they were written by another writer.
" . . . the hour of apparant grace and promised music . . ."
Author's name behind the cut.
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