The aptitude of the home grown eConomist...Con being the opt word there.

In my lifetime I have seen so many examples of when people get a little money, they, then, begin to desire to have more money. As though these little slips of paper and shiny metal coins become and entrance to freedom. I would argue that it becomes more of an entrapment. And I find myself sometimes in that trap as well, forgetting my humble roots.

I ran away from home more than once. I ran. I bolted. I would sacrifice and give away...in order to be free. I wanted the opportunity to see. I wanted the opportunity to become. I took the risk and landed on my own, with nothing.

A bar is closing down to make way for a new condo complex. I used to beg for spare change there. Spare change for food. I had one of my great loves, and most terrifying events come out of that place, too. Ok, maybe more than one terrifying event. But, there was also laughs. And what doesn't kill you does make you stronger. Whoever first said that, was right.

Back to the money, though.

I was living on an apartment roof top across from this bar. Yes, the roof top. There was one way to climb up to the top. And it was a bit of a run down complex, so no one was going to check up there. I lived directly on top of a drug dealer's apartment. So, I did have to be mindful that I didn't get caught by some of the comings and goings of his customers. In years later, he would clean up his act, and become a normal citizen. He knew that I was up there, but he didn't tell. We both had secrets on eachother, so we bonded in a don't ask, don't tell relationship.

Sometimes, I would come down from my perch and he'd let me use his shower. And we would talk on his porch. I traded listening and girl advise for a towel and some hot water. There was a certain freedom in sleeping on a rooftop. All the breezes and stars, very simple sometimes.

One day, I went to have Chinese food with a friend. I had leftovers in a togo box, that I planned to eat for dinner. As I began to climb to my roof perch, I saw a man, about my age. His clothes were dirty, and he was digging in the trash behind a Wendy's. I looked at my container of food, and knew that I wasn't that bad off. I was clean and had just gorged.

I said, "Hey. What are you doing?!?" The man replied, "I'm looking for something to eat." I explained to him that I had plenty of food and had just eaten, and he was welcome to my leftovers, if he wanted. He took my leftovers and said only, "Thanks". He never looked me directly in the eyes.

I climbed to my perch feeling better about myself. And that I had enough to share with someone less fortunate than me. Good feelings can feed a lot of sorrow.

I settled down to read, when I glanced up to see the man digging in the trash can again. What did he do with my food, I thought. There was a ton left, he could not still be hungry. No way.

I asked, "What are you doing?" The man replied, "Looking for something to eat. I don't like Chinese. I threw it out."

Tell me what the hell you're supposed to say to that. Tell me. 'Cause I got nothin'.

I was floored, and mad, and floored. He could have just givin' it back. But, now I realized that he might be nuts and dangerous, so I couldn't go get my food back. So, I was stuck on my perch, floored and mad. Fuckin' crazy fuck! And the sheer oddness of what had just happened.

Years later, I was driving pizzas around. I grabbed a run, and it was to a crappy student complex, near the college, but still crappy. One does not equate big tip, or any tip, from so called "starving students".

As I pulled up to the complex, I could hear the heavy metal. Great, I thought...Drunk, shitty tippers. I could hear the ruckus as I neared the door, number 201. I knocked, and heard the stumbling to the door, through the beer cans, and the shush-shush, in case I was the cops, not the fucking pizza they had ordered fifteen minutes or less ago. I waited, and geared up, for the jokes and sneers. At that time, it was me and one other girl, in the entire town that were pizza drivers. Yes, even with fucking pizza sauce, baked cheese and greasy hair, a girl can still be harassed. (Just on that thought for a minute.)

The door opened. I looked up, from under the brim of my pizza cap, to give my usual speech. But, I stopped.

Again, for the second time, in my life, I was floored.

Who was it? Ah yes it was!

After all these years, there was the slightly older, young man, who threw out my Chinese food. It was his apartment. There was a couple of rock posters on the wall, a crappy worn couch, one lamp, and a jambox. And that was it. Well, there were beer cans everywhere, but that was it. It was a shithole...nothing homey about it. On the other hand, it was a shithole with a roof. So, as my mind raced, I realized that we both, in fact, had moved up. Then, I wondered if he would recognize me. He did not.

The man shoved money at me, and grabbed for the pizza. I counted the money. There was the pizza money, for sure, down to the change. Then there was a hundred dollar bill. I stared at it. One hundred dollars for a tip...shit, that could make my life a bit easier this week. But, the angel vs. the devil. I caved. I have a good heart. I can't take money off a drunk, crazy fuck. I sighed as I explained that this one hundred dollars wasn't necessary, and he must have given this to me by mistake.

This man, looked up, dead right in my eyes, and gruffly told me it was no mistake, and to take the money, and get out of here. Ok, crazy guy, you don't have to tell me twice. I'm outta' here. I took the money, put the old car in gear, and went back to the pizza shop.

Upon my arrival back in the shop, all the guys were standing around. Even though there was pizzas to deliver, they were waiting. All waiting for me. They all wanted to know what kind of tip I had gotten. The man was famous around the pizza joint. That address was notorious. And I just happen to get the luck of the runs to get it...all the pissed off faces told me that. I told them all that it was none of their fucking business, and what was so special about that crazy guy anyway. I did not pipe up that I had met this man before, and I did not explain what the circumstances were when we first met. No way!

Then came the story. The man was a millionaire. He was loaded...super loaded. When he was a child, his rich parents died, and left him the fortune. However, the money was no trade for his parents, and he went nuts...he didn't want to have anything to do with the money. Sometimes he was homeless, and sometimes he would show up at that shitty apartment. The complex owner was an uncle or something...so, he could be a nuts as he wanted to be and never get kicked out. I felt like an even bigger dirty shitbag for taking the guy's money. A dirty shitbag in need of taking his money.

It was three in the morning my shift was finally over. I sat in my shitty car. I took my hat off and ran my hands over my greasy face and through my greasy hair. I put the one hundred dollar bill on my dashboard, and sat there, tired. I sat there eating cold, chewy pizza and staring at the money. I knew that I would spend it. I knew that I had to spend it...all the bills right?!? Yeah, all the bills. I would spend it.

But, I needed to have that money just sit there for a minute, and not be spent. I supposed I needed it to be recognized for something. Also, the sheer weirdness of how this man and I met twice in a lifetime. Both times, being such odd things. This bill, this man, this me, his life, my life, this life...something. Something was there that needed to be recognized.

I spent the money. I never saw him again. Or maybe I moved on enough that I wouldn't recognize him if I did see him again. Whatever....

Right now: Yes, money can be a thing of entrapment, and being mindful of humble roots.

God, Guns and Guts. Let's Just Do All The Things That You Want To Do.

It is my job to give advice. It is my job to keep secrets. It is my job to be supportive. I'm good at it...I can do the job. However, I note, that just because I'm good at it, doesn't mean that I really enjoy it.

This week, those items, above mentioned, were tested. I had to be thoughtful. Really being thoughtful is mostly against my nature. I'm ultimately self-centered and a bit harsh. I do have a sense a fairness for all, but not at a complete cost to the completely unreasonable. I loathe being trapped into being professional, polite and courteous...which is the business norm. What a crock of shit that is. I would much more prefer to just say what I mean, and let the chips fall where they may; however, people don't like honesty. I should say people don't have the stomach for honesty.

So, when confronted with too many things that I have to be thoughtful about, man, oh man, does that ware me out. I found myself thinking this week: What?!? Are you kidding me?!? And, lacking the position to really say that outloud.

I found myself surrounded by klans, as well. We are all so traditionally comfortable with being part of a group, or klan, that we will cut off our noses to spite our faces. It is impossible to make everyone comfortable at all times. You can still be fair in the middle of being uncomfortable, that is possible. But, so many people lack the balls to do just that. Sometimes you have to have the ability to say no. You have to have the ability to say no, in order to reach the bigger goal. So many people lack the balls to do that. And we see examples of this in the larger scale of the world currently.

So, I was thoughtful and mindful this week...oh, yes, I fucking was. And I still watched as others blunder their way. I really have been liking where I work, up until now. The company wants to grow without making it's people grow with it. That is impossible. You will not grow if you people don't. They can not stay the same, small company, klan, family like people. And who said that I wanted to be part of a family at work. Are you fucking kidding me?!? I have a family, and I use my work as a way to provide fuel for my family to work. I do not go to work to include those people as part of my family. Yuck! Blah!

Thoughts of sarcasms boiled in me. Thoughts of why were these people try in sabotage themselves boiled in me. Then more thoughts of sarcasms boiled in me. I'm not trying to say from some mountain top, that I am the greatest thinker of all times...More like, I'm not the greatest thinker of all times...so, you guys must really be dumbasses.

I will use today to think of loftier things...take a break. With only whispers that me and all of Japan have the balls to say no, and sit in the uncomfortable chair.

I'm turning Japanese, I really think so.

The Art of Seduction, and why men cannot be Superstars

In out society men can still do pretty much whatever they want. Women, on the other hand, have to be so clever and take on so much. And now, there is a group of men, who have stolen and produced the secrets that women have used in the dating world for centuries. I watched the television has these couple of men claimed to have the answers, the full proof systems, even had seminars and coaches for this room full of chumps.

I was so angered. I wasn't angered that they were practicing this fine art...only that they thought they had perfected this art...that it was, in fact, their own art. THIEVES!!!!

I recalled how many Woody Allen films I had once endured to catch the prize. All those hours of Woody Allen. And once I finally slept with this guy, I was done...I wanted no more. In fact, after a long night of lovin' and tequila, I awoke groggy and heavy headed, to this guy asking for just one more hand job. I told him no, and got up to find my pants and get the hell out of dodge. He was so sad.

I also recalled the same scenario with a lover of Jim Jarmusch movies...with the same end result...looking for my pants and leaving.

In my time, I learned that buying the drinks often helped in the seduction.

And I learned that one should date the pretty guys, only every once in a while, to up your street cred, but ultimately, those guys were not very good lovers. It was the geeks and the freaks that could really do the deed correctly...the only trade off with them was the emotional baggage, or their obsession with something (i.e. film, star trek, etc.), that you might have to endure a bit of to get to the weenier. All the talking about them...can be tiresome.

I also thought of a guy, who once was big in the music scene, that a friend bet me a Taco Bell, Bean and Cheese Burrito,WITH a drink, that I could not get to ask me out. I had three weeks to do so.

I immediately got to work.

I completely showed up wherever he was, and completely ignored him. I was not a hot, rock n' roll babe. So, I had to be extremely precise and careful. I ignored him completely. And he began to come around. What could the fat chick have? Why isn't she interested in ME? I am a bad, muther fucker!?!

He finally ended up in a conversation with me and another guy, of less stature than he. Oh, he tried to talk to us. And I have to say, he was a cutie, but I could not falter at this time...this was the deal breaking moment. I gave away my attentions to the ugly guy, and even poked an ever so tiny amount of fun at cutie. Then, without a moments notice or hesitation, I abruptly got up and left.

Would it work? Only time would tell. The wait had begun. This entire process had taken almost the entire three weeks. Would I succeed? It was the final night, before the final day of the three weeks. My entire reputation and my lunch was on the line.

The next day, I was sleeping my hangover off, and the phone rang. My roommate nudged me from my sleep and handed me the phone. All croaky, I said hello.

It was cutie. He had even gone to the trouble of finding my number on his own. Fucking bonus!!!!

Cutie asked me out. I held the phone up to my roomate's ear and asked cutie to repeat himself. He did. I had won the lunch. I told him that I had only tried to get him to ask me out for a burrito and drink, and thank you, but no, I didn't want to go out with his conceited ass. I hung up and went back to sleep.

Years later, this same guy would show up fat and road worn from his rock and roll life style. And he pointed to me, came over, and told me that I was the only girl that ever said no to him. I told him I was sorry about that whole mess, I was young...blah, blah, blah. And I'll be damned if his fat ass didn't ask me out again. I told him no, again. End game.

So, all I'm saying, is that these men, these super stars of The Game, did not invent the game, they did not master the game, I'm not even sure if they even know were the game is. Because, even though I have retired my gimmicks and my gags...there is a whole new generation of plump, slightly off in the looks department, young women, who have generations, upon generations, upon generations of women gamer's blood running through their veins...a wisdom the likes that these men have only begun to barely even catch a wiff of.

Nigga' please.

Life After the Stapler

My office has windows. It's been a wonderful treat to work in a place that has windows. Jesus, how the architects have failed us by creating so many buildings without views. And we have all let them do it. We've become mole people. It is no consequence that we're comfortable destroying the planet. We never have to see it. We never really look at the damage that we're doing. Even on vacations, we're in mini-vans, hotels, RV's....always with the walls.

I've been watching the outside. I have a huge butterfly who visits my window every day. I looked it up. The wingspan is about five or six inches across. The butterfly is a Giant Swallowtail. The bright yellow, enlayed with other more subtle colors and patterns. Hard to believe it's a real living thing. Humans are certainly the more boring of all of the living creatures; although, we would like to think that we're not. We're not graceful, we're not really, really beautiful. We're certainly not peaceful. And we can't fly.

I also have been watching a young grackle bird. My office mates hate grackles, call them pests - use the words dirty and hate. I don't hate the grackles anymore than I hate most humans. I'll take a whole flock of grackles over most people. And I've said that outloud. Shocked the office mates are not. If the truth came out I think most people would take the birds over some people.

Anyway...back to the grackle. He's not very big, I'm thinking that maybe he's a teenager or young adult. It's mating season. He's been very busy. Everyday he puffs up, and shakes his feathers...he makes the call. Some times he gets another male, bigger than he is, sniffing around his tree. Usually a bit of a fight starts up. I am proud of my little grackle. He, thus far, has held his own. He doesn't back down. No bigger grackle has taken over his perch...not a one.

He's very black. He's very shiny. And he has bright eyes, which study me back. We spend a few minutes every day checking eachother out. Maybe he knows that I'm on his side, and am certainly no threat to him or his tree and rock.

The grackle has had a few women callers. But, they've never stayed. He puffs up, he dances, he chases...but, they always move on. Like I said, he's not the biggest, fanciest dancer...not yet, anyway. But, everyday, the fucking bird gets up and does it again...every single day. I admire his tenacity.

Sometimes, I see the girls that come by...so far, I haven't been that impressed. Some of them look a little windworn, or too skinny, or that don't take his puffing efforts very seriously - as though they are just toying with him...those make me the most ticked off. I find myself thinking that he didn't need the fucking bitch anyway.

Every day I watch.

Yesterday, was like any other day, my grackle puffed, and puffed, and called. A girl came by. She was about his size, a little smaller, with a golden chest, and bright eyes. My grackle puffed...he shook his black tail feathers and called on his tree branch. The girl puffed back. I didn't know that the girls could puff that much, I had not seen a display like this from any of the others. She puffed and shook and answered.

They danced a little in the tree from branch to branch. Then to the rock, then to the ground, they puffed and danced. He chased her round and round the courtyard of this office building, and I held my breath a little hoping that no one would come out of the building and disturb them. I didn't want her to fly off. Not this girl, this is the one....this is the one. As though, my grackle knew it to be so, he puffed and danced like he'd never done before. And this girl answered every time.

After what seemed like forever to me, it ended. They flew off together. I didn't see my grackle for the rest of the day. I don't think that I'll see him again. The next phase of his life has begun, and I bore witness to it. I bore witness to it from my glass caged window of an office building. I'm sure there's enough words to thank this bird for allowing me the chance to remember what it was once like to be outside.

Shopping with June Doe

Here are a few events that may attend, or shop from, and I believe in my heart of hearts, these places and people have saved me from a life of boredom and poor health. Love, June Doe

Don Snell - Artist
Annarella is in Georgetown, TX
800 S. Austin Avenue, next to the Palace Theatre

Don Snell and Ruth Roberts hope to see you on Friday, June 2
_____________________
http://www.donsnell.com




Secret-Oktober - Clothes, Shoes, Badges and more
Hello!This is a reminder that we are going to have an event called a craft swap.You bring your old/unwanted craft or art supplies, and trade them to other people for their old stuff. I know everyone has some craft project that they will never get around to finishing, so clean out your closets now!Thanks!Secret Oktober
1905 S. 1stAustin, TX 78704462-9217
www.secret-oktober.com
secretoktober23@yahoo.com

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Who's land is it anyway?

What I find interesting about this is that I understand why the Supreme Court upheld the rule last year; although I find in a very dangerous road to start going down, and just because I understand it, doesn't mean that I like it. Wal-Mart somehow has presented itself that this great champion of the poor, with it's crappy low wage jobs, and it's even crappier food and home furnishings. And the cost of everything has been driven to the point that the poor are caught in a cycle of working for crap to buy the crap...so, of course, I do not believe that they are the champions of small communities that need the revenue to keep up. I believe that they are Capitalist Salepeople trying to make a buck, just like everyone else who's a Capitalist. And since we condone Capitalism, what are we to expect. If you want companies to start behaving better, then you have to stop buying from them. Our society is completely market driven. The people who shop have all the power. Entice those shoppers with something else and they will move.

People who are desperate will make sacrifices to better their lives, even if those sacrifices are laid out in taking of farm land and huge traffic jams, and low paying, crappy insurance jobs. That's not really helping them or the towns they live in. It's Wal-Mart in Sheep's Clothing. Wal-Mart does not feed the poor, it feeds off of the poor. We should clarify that mistaken identity.

And I am disappointed that again we have to have an affluent community set the example. However, I am happy that the example is being set. The example that the laws of Eminent Domain can work both ways...not strictly for the Giants of Doom, such as Wal-Mart.

And it is my sincerest hope that in this case Wal-Mart does not triumph of the will of the little people. They have certainly made enough money for their families to live comfortably for the rest of their lives...so, in my opinion, they do not need to take over the world, one small comunity at a time. They could try the tactic of enjoying what they've made, and make room for the next guy.

http://walmartwatch.com/

A yelling match with myself about the stupid

What were we all told? The devil has many forms. And it seems that since there's always a way to defeat the devil, well, the devil doesn't seem to be very bright. Poor, stupid devil...so close to world domination and then, by golly, someone does something good, and the devils plans are foiled again. What an existance it much me to be the devil...to be a constant failure. Yes, what an existance that must be.

I am not unlike other people. I want to be a good person. I want to do good things. But, we all struggle with our internal demons. I don't want to always live in a heart filled with anger and violence, but damn it, some days that's hard to get out of.

This week the sheer amount of stupid, just plain stupid was thrown at me, at a blinding rate. Today, I am angry. And, I haven't exactly decided what I want to do about it, but that thought is boiling. And I suppose that when it becomes clearer to me, everyone will know. I'm not one to do things on a small scale. And I can not longer just sit on the sidelines thinking. I have been called to action by the stupid. I'm not sure if it's volunteering, letter writing or joining a rally or two, I just don't know. But, I have been called to action by the stupid. I have been called to action by the stupid.

Let's start with the smallest of the small stupid things. The place that I used to work, is crumbling. I have never worked at a place that has drawn so many people to join forces and leave...and then stay in touch, to watch the house of cards fall. I have never had that experience, until now. The sheer dislike of the owners and others in power, has drawn people together, who would normally never talk. Yes, through adversity, we saw how different we really weren't. What a shocker! We all converse on a fairly often basis. We have spys on the inside giving us the scoop...or shall I rephrase...we have other in the trenches that we have yet to help get out...that's really more like it.

I learned this week that the one I call Crazy Lawyer has topped herself, really topped herself. She said, outloud, that in her heart of cold dead hearts, she beliefs that in the next ten years, science will prove that being poor is genetic, that there is, in fact, something physically wrong with poor people. Was I there when she said it? Nope. This is strickly hearsay. However, I was there to countless numbers of times when she said similar things, and acted out in a manor only fitting for a ruthless queen of some bygone time. This is a woman who can't figure out which password goes in which box to turn on her computer, and would scream that the computer was just messed up AGAIN!!! A woman that has more money than sense, and who's beautiful daughter is under thirteen and is on a diet, and this little girl would beg all the secretaries for food and candy. Yes, this was the type of woman who said this.

And I'm not sure that this woman is aware that people have kept folders on her actions and displays...actual folders of infomation and examples. I'm not sure this woman gets just how much she is disliked. For that, I guess I can feel a bit sorry for her. That is her accomplishment, she's has banded a bunch or ragtag poor people against her...What an accomplishment to hold dear to your heart.

I am not rich. I am not the poorest of the poor either. But, I would gladly give up everything, if it meant that I wouldn't have to be a person like her. Completely out of touch with this beautiful planet and all of the things that it has to offer. Including, but not limited to, science that does so much more than look up genes that make people poor.

What a completely stupid woman. Completely stupid. Could choose not to be stupid, but chooses to remain stupid and breed stupid. Is there a gene for that?

Next. On to bigger items of stupid.

I learned of a story this week, where a sixteen year old transgender child was thrown out of her home. Several grown ups were looking for a foster home for this child, so that she might have remained in the area, and finish school. A child written off, just like that.

The story continues that the Texas Children Protective Services. And how there may be new rules against Gays and Lesbians from having foster children. What?!? Are you fucking kidding me?!?

I might give the right wing, Christian movement more pause if they proceeded to have an alternative plan for these children. I have not heard of one yet.

I'm not sure how you write off your own children with such ease. Nobody makes people fuck...and we all know what happens when you fuck. And then, we all know the difficulty of raising a child. This is not news. If you're messed up, on drugs, whatever, you get off your stupid ass and you get your shit together and you raise that child! The child didn't hatch a plan to ruin your life...you did it!

Now, lets say you really just can't do it...it really is that hard. Ok, then the child goes into a system, that's not a great system, but it is a system. If you can forgive yourself for that, then there is a system. And some of the people in that system are foster parents who are Gay and Lesbian, and some are Hetero. No person fucks in front of these children. They are feed and loved, and clothed, and loved.

How can you make a rule that says to that child that they cannot have the basic needs, after already being kicked to the curb...how can you, in a clear heart and mind, say to these children that they cannot live in these homes because of this one item, this one personality trait, that makes up about one tenth of a tenth of a person? Me, being a hetero female is not my entirety. That part of me if very small. The rest of my body and mind are made up of so much more. And I'm not special, that's the rule for everyone.

And moreover, you might feel ok saying to this transgender child that what she feels is wrong?!? Feelings are neither correct or incorrect, they just are.

I worked at a porn shop in my younger years. Easter Holiday was my biggest selling day of the entire year.

It was not the Gay and Lesbian community that was buying porn that day. It was Straight Heteros doing the deeds. It was heteros buying porn in their Sunday, Going to Church, Clothes.

And, I might add that the amount of successful nudie bars in my area of Texas alone that are flurishing, are not Gay and Lesbian bars, they are Hetero bars. The amount of White Collar Crimes being committed in our own Government are not being committed by Gay and Lesbian members...they are Hetero. The amount of violent protests being committed are not by the Gay and Lesbian communnities, but by the Straight communities members. Shall I continue? Have we all gotten the point? I'll take a butch, transgender female, or a fruity, flighty gay man, or a mullet wearing lesbian any day over a right wing, Christian fuck. Yes, I will. Viva la homosexuality. I think they may become the answer to saving not only our children, but our very souls.

I also watched a news program this week where one woman was out trying to fight homelessness by herself. She would feed anyone who needed it, at anytime. This made the news. I admire this woman. But, this should be a regular item, in my mind, not a special occassion, news item. Good things happening have become news worthy...special. I am on the fence about it really. Perhaps we continue to focus on these few, good people until the message gets out, and everyone follows suit. Can it happen this way? That the bad news becomes the special occassion news items? Could this happen? Could we be so bold and smart? Not according to Crazy Lawyer we couldn't. And does anyone want to let her be right and win?

I expect better of women. We really haven't gotten it, how much power we can yield. We, as mothers, need to stop raising our babies to be such scary little mongrels. Stop pointing the fingers at matters that have really very little to do with the benefit of everyone. We could change, and change others. How about no war, no hunger, no drug addicts, etc. How about that? How about really telling our children and everyone else's children that they can be anything that they want to be. When did we become so afraid to do the right thing?

And before anyone thinks that they are speaking for me, a heterosexual female...well, please think twice. I vote, I am active in the community, and I am very tired of stupid. Right now, I am very tired of that.