-Get Firefox! join the tribute to the victims of 9/11Just Foreign Policy Iraqi Death Estimator barbtries a blog: July 2003
barbtries a blog
Sunday, July 27, 2003
affordable justice
affordable justice

he blogged sonnets for like three nights in a row? had to give him some
kinda recognition for that...i've written three sonnets in almost 48
years [august 26 - i will be 48 on august 26, in case you want to
check out my wish list in time to remember it...lol].

three sonnets and two villanelles. and both villanelles were written
on the same day back to back.

go figger. i'm half tempted to try the exercise too. but i have something
else in mind, brewing...about taos, my trip, the writers conference. but
first gotta play...cause i handed rory to my brother at
7 or so this morning for a vacation at bass lake, and as i went up the
stairs back to my apartment i sang, "I'm free...i'm free..."

six days. got things i need to do, but not a whole hell of a lot.
listing for one. i need to list what i gotta do:

1. car - new clutch something wrong, won't stay in 2nd and 4th gears
2. court! arghhh - two fucking warrants now. hate inglewood and their
shit and el segundo pigs. yes i said pigs
3. before court must go to insurance co to get proof that first ticket
came ONE DAY after expiration.
4. before court must write down and practice saying my "mercy of the
court speech." i know it's logical i know it's fair i don't know if
it will make a difference...but if i just walk in cold it will
never get said.
5.call phone company regarding apparently bogus charges on these billss
6. post office box and CALL her. my benefactor
7. call and arrange to spend time with cousin
8. clean house
9. get one manuscript all the way together...submit somewhere!

enough, i got to go be free for now...happy sunday

Friday, July 25, 2003
the fugue of our correspondence
written in 1996

The Fugue of Our Correspondence

Force, feeling, fear: all self-perpetuating;
The odyssey of our lives will bear it out.
Energy breeds more energy; making
Love makes love, pain makes pain, doubt makes doubt.

Between us two - we alone, me and you -
Perpetuate our best and send it to and fro.
We are partners in pain learning to let it go -
We are lovers again yearning to make it grow.

Of all the begats in the bible,
Only twins hold meaning for me:
Hate begat hate, Jealousy, jealousy,
Love begat love, your love begat me.

Energy in tandem travels twice as far.
Enclosed, our souls compose a fugue spectacular.
Through distance and time our music becomes color,
Rainbows become rhyme; You, me: We...entwine.


enchantment, once...now bekah

you don't even wanna know how long i spent painting this. try all day almost. eek...anyhow i hope my friend likes it, cause i'm sending it to him for a thank you note. :)

Thursday, July 24, 2003
Scary Quotes
Scary Quotes: "'The Holocaust was an obscene period in our nation's history. I mean in this century's history. But we all lived in this century. I didn't live in this century.'... 9/15/95"

way back in '95, eh? was he still on the sauce then?

t r u t h o u t - William Rivers Pitt | We Used To Impeach Liars
t r u t h o u t - William Rivers Pitt | We Used To Impeach Liars
...but Americans are funny. They fall for Hitler's maxim on lies over and over again: "The great masses of the people will more easily fall victim to a big lie than to a small one." ... It has become all too clear in the last several days that the horrid descriptions of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq were nothing more than the Big Lie which Hitler described. The American people, being the trusting TV-stoned folks they are, bought this WMD lie bag and baggage. Imagine the shock within the administration when Lieutenant General James Conway, top US Marine Commander in Iraq, said that American intelligence on Iraqi WMDs was "Simply wrong." Conway went on to state about the WMDs that, "We've been to virtually every ammunition supply point between the Kuwaiti border and Baghdad, but they're simply not there."

The Crime and the Cover-Up
The Crime and the Cover-Up: "When the President of the United States terrifies the American people in his constitutionally-mandated State of the Union speech with nuclear threats based upon evidence that was universally known to be shoddily forged garbage, no one should calm down. When he uses that terror to make war on a nation that was no threat to America, no one should calm down. When over 200 American soldiers and thousands of innocent Iraqi civilians die because of this, no one should calm down. When that grisly body count rises every single day, no one should calm down."

t h e d o c t o r w i t h i n
t h e d o c t o r w i t h i n
interesting, possibly useful

Massive Head-wound Cory
Massive Head-wound Cory

you go cory.


Wednesday, July 23, 2003
colors 2


PSH: Poets of the Week
PSH: Poets of the Week
I live in Hawthorne, California. 44 years old, mother of 4, grandmother of 2, divorced and just emerging from a few extraordinary years of poverty and hardship...but I am emerging. I have been writing poems for thirty years and have pursued publication with some success in the past few years mostly online.

wow has my bio changed...think i'll either enter PSH's poetry contest, or submit some poems for poet of the month. in a minute...:)

the first poem from 1999:

Listen to What the Whore Says

Listen to what the whore says:
"I am the ancient barfly,
"Playing pool with corpses,
"Here's a dead man in your eye."


taos pueblo...check out that sky. :)

beyond baroque, Venice, CA
The West Coast’s longest running, free workshop and a legendary
gathering of poets. Facilitators are: May-June, Michael C. Ford;
July-August, Carmen Vega; September-October, Holaday Mason.

one of my pool partners is a poet, believe it or don't...and i have never attended a poetry reading such as this. i do think i ought to, and i should read as well...maybe tonight. maybe maybe.

Monday, July 21, 2003
I'm Not Seeing Her Anymore
I'm Not Seeing Her Anymore

a great poem by Ray Sweatman. i think i have read it before. but today of all days i clicked on it. and cannot even say WHY "today of all days" - except it's not because of me, it's a mom thing.

ray also asked about Taos, and i'll blog about that in the next few days. in the very short term, i love Taos more than i loved the writers conference, and i still plan to try to publish my book.

more later :)

a found poem? from 05-30-00
i found this in my diary while flipping through this morning...it's from may 2000 and i'm playing around with it thinking i like it. but if you read it i would really like knowing what if anything you think about it...:)


My dream came a poem
Like the one
I told him about:

Full of lines,
Colorful lines
On a page

When his warmth
Was removed,
Part of the poem

Went with him
Once a line,
Once a full verse.

I slept the poem peacefully
Only as long as that warm man
Lay beside me...

Finally lost it completely
When he did not return
For too long.

The words slipped away
As I struggled to consciousness -
Getting out of bed

Before achieving it.
Now Jimmy knows
I'm crazy -

I poem in my sleep
And babble dreams
At daybreak

I wonder will
Jimmy tell
Me what I said?

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Salt Lake City responds to kip mckean's crazy letter.

the first poem i wrote after bekah was killed.
07-26-01: "
Rebekah-Marie Bales Zask, 7/6/80 - 7/19/01

7/26/01 4:35:25 AM

I imagine her spirit drifting through the night,
And when I told my sister of the strength I gain
From knowing she was happy when she died,
The chills came on me
I imagined they were her, trying to hug me.

I imagine her flitting
The way butterflies do, but a spirit,
Like a long low string of a cloud,
As she goes here, there, all through this
Heartless megalopolis, to tell us all
That she knows, she cares, she loves still.

Though she is much too still, so
Robbed of her body, so rudely,
Killed. Killed is not the same
As merely dead.

i'm a day late commemorating the second anniversary of my daughter's murder. i was traveling until well after dark yesterday. on the plane from albuquerque to phoenix - the smallest plane i've been in - i was astounded by the clouds and the way they stopped all evenly at the bottom...we were flying parallel to the bottom of the clouds for some time. i was so taken out by the sight i asked my neighbor if it was an optical illusion; he said no. when i pointed out the above-noted phenomenom, he said, "yeah. isn't it wild?"

yeah it was wild. in spite of myself i remembered too well the trip to WA in Feb 2002, three days after bekah's murderer was sentenced to only four years [she'll be out next february]. i leaned my head against the window as i did on that flight and silently wept, remembering that flight and wishing i could see her as clearly now as i did then, and prayed to bekah all love and spirit, yes.

yes, i prayed, yes. amen

some of bekah's 23rd birthday balloons...
on the way to the airport in albuquerque from taos today, my friend's daughter looked at the sky and saw a turtle. i said, "she does that," and was glad i had my sunglasses on. tomorrow - today, the 20th - is the 3rd anniversary of her big brother's murder. He was 17 on 07-20-00, one year minus one day before bekah was killed. his little sister is ten now; she was born on his tenth birthday, but got to share only seven with him before he was killed.

i tried to blog this before and the cyber bogie man took the post. over the past five to ten years, i might hear from/talk to my former co-worker/friend M, who moved back to his hometown of taos, NM, about that long ago, once or twice a year, maybe less. in february, 2001, i ran across his phone number and on a whim dialed it, only to learn that he had lost his youngest son the previous july. murdered. a few months later, may 2001, i spoke at length with him, learning the details of his son's murder [a double murder, a 26-year-old cousin having been shot when he ran to save his young cousin]. what i recall saying to try and comfort him:

"i know i can't say that i know how you feel, M., but i am just so, so sorry...i am so thankful that all of my children are alive and healthy..."

about two months later, i called him yet again and said, "i had to call you because now i can say that i know how you feel, and you're the only person i know who knows how i feel." he was planning to attend the one year memorial for his son and son's cousin when we spoke that day, the day after bekah was murdered, one year minus one day after his son was murdered.

yesterday i stopped in a flower shop in taos to buy flowers to take to the two boys' graves. the woman who helped me asked me about who, why, etc, and i told her the story, including that my daughter was subsequently murdered on july 19...she turned around looking like a stricken deer in approaching headlights and said, "my sons were born on july 19 and 20." there goes one of those rhymes again...we ascertained that the years were not the same, and let it go at that.

sunset in taos, NM

Sunday, July 13, 2003
Taos Summer Writers' Conference
Taos Summer Writers' Conference
well, bloggers and friends, droppers in, fellow poets and democrats, see ya in a week. i'm off to taos, NM, tomorrow, for some intensive learning.
have to admit i am excited. the time flies though doesn't it? in some respects i'm going to the place where my heart has been for years.
i'll take pictures, and i'll paint...i'll feel bekah with me i just know it. i'll visit the ancient pueblo and i'll be galvanized and enlightened and spun by the people and their writing...i hope. i hope hope. lol
save a place for us.

Saturday, July 12, 2003
Google Toolbar Installed
Google Toolbar Installed
the funny thing about this is, i don't use internet explorer. i use netscape. lol

Robber gets 27 years for spree
Robber gets 27 years for spree
Dajuan McMeans, 23, who committed the crimes with two partners, learned his fate from Long Beach Superior Court Judge Mark Kim during his sentencing hearing Wednesday, Deputy District Attorney Nicholas Rini said.

a familiar name in the news today...nicholas rini. mr. rini puts 23-year-olds away for a quarter century or more, even though nobody died.

don't misunderstand me; this guy is a bad guy, and from reading the story i think the sentence is not excessive. it seems it was just a matter of time before one or more of their victims would have been killed if they had not been stopped.

but the point to me is why did nicholas rini roll over for a murderer?!

i do need to follow through. no path of least resistance. no complacency, denial. my daughter was not and is not chopped liver and she should still be alive. the person who killed her has not been held to answer for her crime, not enough, not yet.

i wrote earlier that when i went to the cemetery on 06-19-03, crabgrass had taken hold all around bekah's headstone...

what i didn't add is that as i worked to get rid of the crabgrass, which as you may know is very tenacious, i began to wonder what it meant. maybe i am crazy. but my counselor tells me i am anything but believe it or not. he says he's going to start bringing up "exiting" soon - i mean, i may GRADUATE from counseling in the next few months! whoa.

crabgrass? yeah...i began to think, "she's still pissed." began to wonder if the crabgrass obnoxious and difficult as it is, was not another way for bekah to communicate her dissatisfaction with events here on earth as they pertain to the night she was murdered.

so. i would not be hounded this way if i was doing what still can be done. that, i believe, MUST be done. and soon.


bekah's 23rd birthday miracle

Rory and Tyler with the present Bekah gave to her family on her 23rd birthday 07-06-03

Wednesday, July 09, 2003
letter from a sailor
sent from fort meade, maryland, about a month ago. line breaks and illustrations added by the owner of the blog.

Andy and his brother at boot camp grad 04-18-03

hi mom. sorry ive been negligent about writing, but ive been, um, busy.

schools goin good, im almost done with the first section, which is newswriting. and public affairs. grrrr public affairs. two to four hours a day watching powerpoint presentation while some retired marine reads the information off the projector. "death by powerpoint" as it is referred to by students and instructors. but yeah, the writing has been easy as hell so far. they give me information and the order it goes in and all i have to do is make complete sentences out of it.

im on duty this weekend(hoorah duty!) so i dont get to leave the barracks except to smoke or go to chow. somewhere between Phase and restriction is duty. oh and i get to stand sleep deprivation watches all weekend yay! but its okay, ill make up for it next weekend somehow.

oh, the people in charge of me here have no sense of pride in the navy. it works like this--army, marines, and air force march to and back from school with drill instructor like people accompanying them. as a result, they are in perfect formation at all times. navy, since we own the seas, have more style than the other services, and are just all around superior, dont waste our time with those silly formalities. we keep a loose formation, talk in ranks, and basically strut to school and straggle home. well, thats all coming to an end. these navy people in charge decided that we should conform to the other service detachments. yeah, okay, lets change to be like them. dammit, they should be like us. we learned how to march in boot camp, why should we do it here? we have ceremonial guard and honor guard, people who specialize in marching--dont they do enough marching that we dont have to?

apparently not cuz now when we march, we look like a bunch of damn soldiers. im just waiting for the day they issue us camoflauge uniforms so well look like soldiers all the time. grrrr.

anyway, thats my gripe for the day, and i intend to send a full report to the Chief of Information, Chief of Naval Operations, Secretary of the Navy, and Secretary of Defense by next Monday(I'm on duty i have nothing better to do.) i would send it to the Commander in Chief, but im quite sure he wouldnt understand it. hed prolly come out saying something like "Our ships do not have to march. they can defend our oceans perfectly well without marching. also, they do not have enough legs to march." or something like that. well, im gonna go smoke before duty muster(gathering up the troops so we know which trash cans we have to empty) i love you goodbye

andy's grandpa frank, my father, in the navy 1941

was it bekah
FREE Stichomancy Readings
"Was it Bekah?"
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Main Street by Sinclair Lewis:

the Ford garage said, and what the big cloud said, and she told him, with a feeling that she was not in the least making up stories, but discovering the souls of things. They had an especial fondness for the hitching-post in front of the mill. It was a brown post, stout and agreeable; the smooth leg of it held the sunlight, while its neck, grooved by hitching- straps, tickled one's fingers. Carol had never been awake to the earth except as a show of changing color and great satisfying masses; she had lived in people and in ideas about having ideas; but Hugh's questions made her attentive to the comedies of sparrows, robins, blue jays, yellowhammers; she"

i'll take this as a yes. . . :)

Boohbah Zone
Boohbah Zone
for when you're really bored, and do not want to work...thanks to deb

written not long after she was killed. if you give the page time to load you can see my first attempt at including a java scrip on the page. bekah i think you will agree is especially beautiful...

AlterNet: Addicted to Failure
AlterNet: Addicted to Failure: "Far from improving the health of nations, the war on drugs has cut a swath of misery and corruption throughout Latin America. "

AlterNet: A Diplomat's Undiplomatic Truth
AlterNet: A Diplomat's Undiplomatic Truth: "They may have finally found the smoking gun that nails the culprit responsible for the Iraq war. Unfortunately, the incriminating evidence wasn't left in one of Saddam Hussein's palaces but rather in Vice President Dick Cheney's office."

Monday, July 07, 2003
Bekah's 23rd birthday
posted yesterday on my animal spirit lessons at delphi:
something really special happened today, bekah's 23rd birthday...for you to appreciate this you should know that bekah and her best friend had a thing, where bekah was the "turtle" and her friend was the "butterfly." bekah the turtle collected turtles; we buried one of her turtles with her and since she was murdered i have been collecting turtles as a way to work through my grief, and keep her close...a few months after she died i got a tattoo on my wrist, a turtle above the name "bekah." my oldest son also had his right forearm tattooed with a turtle with angel wings, above it captioned "Rebekah" and below, "an angel in heaven."

sorry to drone on, but it is so you know how special it was that this morning, the morning of bekah's 23rd birthday [the second birthday she has not been alive to celebrate], my daughter-in-law and grandson went into their backyard to find a turtle. a living foot by foot turtle in their backyard.

we live in the los angeles area and i have not seen a turtle except in parks since i was a child. in this case, it turns out that the turtle belongs to a house that is adjacent my son's...but they have lived there for well over a year and it was only today, bekah's birthday, that the turtle showed up in their yard.

just had to tell you that.

after hours at the cemetery yesterday i drove to john's to take pictures of bekah's 23rd birthday miracle and was crestfallen when it came apparent that the turtle was gone and did have a home nearby. my disappointment was perhaps premature, as at 7:30 this morning rings the phone...denise, breathless, "i'm sorry to call so early but i didn't want you to miss it." she'd prayed for bekah to bring it back.

so rory and i hopped in the car and straight to the backyard where this stately reptile [i'm sure it is probably a tortoise though what kind exactly i have not figured out] walked right up to me, let me touch the top of its head and its legs, barely flinching.

thank you bekah. thank you thank you bekah. amen

Massive Head-wound Cory
Massive Head-wound Cory
Cory's posted again...he's been sick with chemo. i think i'll blog cory every time he posts to help generate the maximum amount of healing energy and deliver it to this courageous young man.

Sunday, July 06, 2003
to bekah on her 23rd birthday

To Bekah
On her 23rd birthday, upon which
She will not be 23:

Switching out boxes yesterday
[just to save space],
I ran into the pile of clothes
That stood in for you
Back then,
Back when you were barely 21
And barely dead.

Then you swept
Like a genie into my nose,
As if you had been bottled, kept
Fresh for years. The smell of you
I slept with for the length
Of a pregnancy, then packed
Away reluctantly, warned against

Letting my grief become chronic,
Accosted me so true it buckled my knees.
A baby blue tank top, two
Hooded tees, the long black sweater
You draped neatly over me,
Back when you were barely 21,
And I was barely bereaved,

Leaning toward me. Embracing me.
My girl you will always be.
And as I sit here writing, Bekah
Can you believe? First it is
"They Say It's Your Birthday," next I hear
"Beautiful Girl." Stay with me...
Beautiful girl, stay with me.

Saturday, July 05, 2003
gonna go again...
07-01-03 at pool
Bekah, i put on the new top and makeup and all....

07-02-03 at counseling
Hey. not such good day...and all the reasons plain as the sweat of frustration and the blood of justice denied.

Denied, Denied....

Girl i try to focus on the good. I promise you I recognize that if it is good it is truly good and just as true as the other.

the other being your death. Almost two years later and your death persists in spite of any and all efforts to overcome, rise above, grow beyond, transform...

Persists Bekah. And persists in being HATEFUL! Godammit i want you here, alive, vital, living

Should I list the good? It always boils down to Love, my god, my purpose, my faith, my fulfillment.

Also my desire, my wishes unfulfilled...lonely. Lonely is reality too; I dance on the fence of flirtation. Trust no one and well, you know, as hateful as bitter may be it has been validated more times than trust.

So i dance on the fence because my trust puny as it is, is what i need to nurture. If i am paralyzed it is not a testament to bitter it is an effort to not let it bite me in the ass again. 'Least not any time soon....

Girl. Bekah. Your 23rd birthday much like your 22nd comes at me like a fucking freight train silent as all the world has been and must remain, because you are silenced.

Not correctly, not inevitably. Abhorrently via commission of the most terrible crime now magnified by the court and the criminal's callous dismissal of the hugeness of her crime, your loss.

Bekah you will never be chopped liver. If i despair at times it is because inside i am acknowledging a reality that slices me, shreds me like a fed sheet of paper: the world will not know that, not in my time...some people, sure, but the rest - oh they'll cluck and turn away, have a drink, tell themselves gee i could be that woman - the one who murdered you! - and unless and until it is their child, brother, self, never go to this side, this world of the victim.

the innocent - the young - the beautiful - the vital - the intelligent - the gentle - the caring - the happy - the healthy -

the erased, murdered, discounted, dispatched, disrespected, dismissed. they'll say, "Life goes on," and it only proves how reluctant or incapable they are of considering you. You, the beautiful, the only, the barely 21,

the daughter. Daughter i miss you and i love you and i promise i will do my level best to rise up and meet the approaching train of your 23rd birthday with grace and gratitude for the blessing you were, the love you continue to be, and to appreciate and still try to educate them to the reality.

Because most of them mean well. They don't know what they can't know and i can't judge them. i can only envy them their blessed ignorance and admonish them to recall that there but for fortune go them and their most precious children. amen

Man held in local coach
Man held in local coach

i just get so confused...this 23-year-old man got drunk and ran a red light, killing another. . .a high school coach. he's being charged with murder and held on one million dollars bail.

i don't know how i feel about this. it was not a hit and run, or hit, pick up, drag down street, drop, and run. it was a crash in an intersection between two cars, one of which was driven by a drunk. a 23-year-old drunk.

this is like the profile of the person i expected would be stewing in jail when i first learned bekah was dead. instead, bekah's killer was a 53-year-old drunk woman, who had driven out of her lane to kill my daughter.

for some reason i can understand how the young [read: reckless, invulnerable, stupid] man could have made a tragic mistake resulting in the death of another...and i don't know the details admittedly. he may have prior DUI's, probably does...that is what turns the manslaughter into a murder, i think, usually.

but young is dumb. 53 is supposed to know better. then there is the issue of leaving the scene. this article does not say that this defendant did that. i don't know. somehow i keep thinking that this murder charge, million dollar bail, has more to do with the non-white status of the defendant [again i don't know this am only projecting based on his name] than with the crime, and very likely more to do with the defendant's ability to hire a lawyer as well.

bekah's murderer got her bail cut to a half million and was able to bail out of jail. we were told by the DA that rambo would be "vertically" prosecuted, the case being given a "high profile." a few months later the DA sat silent while rambo pleaded "no contest" to felony vehicular manslaughter with gross negligence while intoxicated and felony hit and run. before she pled her attorney read for the record her denial of any blame or fault in bekah's death. after she pled her attorney went into the hallway and trashed bekah for the local newspaper.

these insults are like stab wounds, ouch, ouch, ouch.

Bekah's face splashed on the channel 9 news.

instead of life for murder rambo got four years. they could not give her less time than that. i hate to say that if they could they would have, but it sure does seem like it.

bekah's 23rd birthday is tomorrow. this story is in the paper today, and i just had to read the paper today.

Friday, July 04, 2003
ok, this post comes again...after oh i cannot tell you all the frustration. for starters after i made the cd with the music and all for my new mp3 player, i popped it in and got the message, "medium not finalized." ok, i said to myself, i'll finalize the media...found the command with a right click and told it to go ahead and finalize the media. a progress meter appears on my screen and stalls at about 90% complete.

i try twice...shit, okay. by this time i'm late for grief counseling and still don't have the cd. but it will have to wait and i go, and while my friend [i drive us both to grief counseling every wed.] is having her session i cry with frustration, write to bekah. and there's a point i must make with a painting! or anyhow, i want to make it with a painting, because it's actually kind of an audible thing but. anyway. i get home and my computer has taken a dump. why? i am not sure, but i think it's because just the day before that i was telling rory how when i first started learning computers [specifically windows; i learned in 3.1], they crashed all the time, and putting in hardware was scary and so on, and now it's cool, "because now it works," and i think i even laughed with delight.

hohoho. so my theory is it crashed because i dared to have confidence it wouldn't! so. more frustration. it won't restore properly and i decide to try setting windows up again because that has worked in the past...thinking wow it's really good that i got my win98 cd back from denise...lalala. Eight percent of the way through setup decides it can no longer read the cd. omigod.

me, trying to fix the damn computer ... :)

using the restore cd and scanreg i get windows back with some major problems...in the meantime i've painted the picture and happily am able to scan it. but upload it to the web? no, no, windows cannot install the modem. why? who knows...who knows. oh, well. it will do me no good to put the graphic on a floppy since my new computer does not have a floppy drive, and the cd r/w drive that may or may not be implicated in this whole mess is not being acknowledged by windows either. oh, well, anyway i have to move stuff around today because i am getting my brother's old sectional, complete with three recliners and built-in tables, so i move the scanner into the bedroom. i haven't installed PSP or photoshop here but i can just scan it so i can put it on my blog. it's like i will not share this without that picture.

did it! scanned the picture, went online, tried to upload...it was so slow i went back to discover the picture was too big, log off. go into paint and figure out how to make this smaller, not just in inches, not just in pixels, but in bytes...ok. did it. came back online, uploaded the picture, copied the code, copied the letter i wrote to bekah on wednesday complete with illustration, clicked "post & publish" and AOL decided they needed to update their database.

all was lost. jeezus. so you get this terrible terrible rant and the illustration which won't mean shit probably out of context.

bekah's last birthday

bekah blows out 21 candles - all the candles she'll ever get to blow out - on 07-04-01

Thursday, July 03, 2003


dunno why i like it. but what the hell. i do

AlterNet: American Rebels
AlterNet: American Rebels

happy independence day from a peacenik, hippie, anti-war lover of humanity, mother of:

a plumber
a murder victim
a sailor in the US Navy
a national honor roll member just promoted from 5th grade

1 Corinthians 13
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels,
but have not love, I am only a resounding gong
or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of
prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and
all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can
move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
If I give all I possess to the poor and
surrender my body to the flames, but have not
love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is
kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it
is not proud. It is not rude, it is not
self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it
keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not
delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always
hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

i got this off the iccdf, the delphi forums discussion board pertaining to the ICOC , a destructive cult masquerading as a christian church. it is from the new testament i believe, and is just beautiful. what i cannot quite get is how this passage can be in a book that is used to enslave persons spiritually. or how people really come to believe with their whole hearts that this book is the word of god when it is so apparently inconsistent and ambiguous enough to allow faithless people to perpetrate big wrongs in its name, and in the name of jesus christ, who as i understand it was a man who preached peace on earth good will toward men.

eh. what do i know. bekah's birthday is three days away and i have words about that. i have some bones to pick with fate and reality and a wish that cannot be shared in 9 or 10 pt font. so the computer that is attached to the scanner, the one with photoShop and PSP on it, took a major league shit. and i still can't seem to tear my eyes away from the train wreck that is the kip mckean and cohorts cult.....

Wednesday, July 02, 2003
tonypierce.com desert springs marriot 6/21/03
tonypierce.com desert springs marriot 6/21/03

found a fairly cool blog and this entirely cool picture of the palm trees at the desert springs marriott, lit from below according to the caption.

one word. so little time.
one word. so little time.

a quick writing challenge open to anyone...interesting

Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Occupation, Mourning
this is another chapter of the book i have written since my daughter was murdered on 07-19-01...comments are really welcome. thanks

Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro
In all the raging impotence of woe.

- Alexander Pope, The Iliad of Homer. Book xxii. Line 526.

Occupation, Mourning

12-05-01 after counseling

Hi honey. Here I am, at your bones again. I feel so adrift. So wrong. You are the right one Bekah, and you have been cut down too soon. Among the flowers I got you Saturday are buds, and they are drooping before they bloom.

When I consider destiny I think of yours; it is there, or may be. But it is disallowed by the cowardly, murderous act of a stranger.

I wait for the provident peace that knows it is so and that my pleas for why will not be answered. This is another fact is all. There are many facts standing in line outside the door of my heart awaiting acceptance. There is your death. Your murder. Injustice. Interruption of too many destinies.

My heart cries today. Does it let one in? Let me find the door...oh. I get it.

It's all in pieces Bekah.

12-09-01 Sunday 11:50 a.m.

Hi Bekah. Where do the hours go, as I sit at my computer through the night? I still go to the CHP log and note the mayhem as it occurs. And why? Eh! Fuck why. It's weird that's all. And somewhat chilling when I recall that I was doing that when you died...it was just fortunate that your incident did not appear on the log I viewed. Just fucking lucky I didn't find out that way.

In one of the incidents last night a call went out for the chaplain, because, "Brother of the 1144 is 1097." Now I know very well that "1144" is dead and "1097" is at the scene. Makes me want to go hug him. I can so clearly imagine what he is doing.

Cause I did that. I have lived through the shock. Continue to hang out with the horror. Wrestled disbelief and am still pinned to the mat by it from time to time. Now I have cried until my entire head hurt. Screamed and beat the floor where my grief made me lay. Driven on the freeway calling out your name at the very top of my voice.

I have attempted to apply myself as honestly as possible to my present occupation, mourning. I have worked double, triple, quadruple overtime in order to let what often feels like endless waves of monstrous grief have their way with me.

And I can still sense that my entire being as if by pure reflex runs, cowers, and cringes from the truth that you will never be seen or heard from again.

At times I feel strong. Positively beneficent: not only did I survive my daughter's death but I allowed it to be the impetus for improving my life. Other times that is such bullshit - I am stuck it seems, in a vast expanse of pain with only my heart's denials to keep me breathing.

I am uplifted when I feel you near me. Encouraged by everything psychic that validates my feelings. What I find distressing is this complete lack of motivation toward any kind of work other than that which does not pay our bills (in other words, this). Oh well. It seems to me that it is more healthy than not that I am willing to do this. My therapist has been more or less non-committal. I want to go to Michael's for some custom chimes for you. I got you a tree last night and will decorate it at your grave very soon.

I love you Bekah...amen

X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O X O mom

You LIve Your Life As If It's Real
You LIve Your Life As If It's Real: "Shall I blow smoke up your celestial orb?"

love this line. it has provoked a lot of thought and written, then deleted, words, in response...i may require a ray sweatman glossary to set up next to the shakespeare one. for one thing he's read everything, i guess...i have not, by a long shot...though i used to think i had read a lot. secondly i don't know what a celestial orb is. so is the above an offer to enlighten or obfuscate the addressee? a generous offer or a thinly veiled threat? i'll read it some more i think. in the meantime, Sisyphus? a name i have heard but if i ever knew the myth, story, book, i don't now...and Oblomov? a mystery altogether as far as i can recall.

i think i need to go to school - or want to go to school...oh yeah! i am, for a week next month anyhow. whew.

Who am i, what am i
A picture's worth

moon phases

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I stand on the sand, and I'm rocking grief to sleep in my arms.

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