A rose by any other name.......

Tonight is ‘angel’s night’, in Detroit anyway. It used to be called ‘devil’s night’ and still is in the rest of the country. The reason for the name change is to prevent all of the little angels in the city from engaging in the annual ritual of torching abandoned and occupied homes. That’s the solution. For out-of-towners that’s what we refer to as Detroit logic. Maybe the local preachers can hold an anti-arson prayer vigil as they do to curb the violence in the inner-city, which is equally as effective.

Savor it.

I woke up this morning with the stark realization that I had no memory of how food tastes. I haven’t eaten anything by mouth for 5 years and suddenly today it comes to my attention. I began to visualize a cheeseburger but with all my effort I couldn’t connect that picture to any sensation of taste; it was a little disconcerting. One thought leading to another I was also aware that I had taken the ability to chew, taste and swallow cheeseburgers entirely for granted. I watch people eat and notice that they chew fast, swallow and take another bite over and over again without really savoring each of them. The simple act of sharing a meal with others is much more important than I knew. All of this occurred to me within a couple minutes of waking. Now I am stuck with pondering if the only difference between living and merely existing is eating a fucking cheeseburger with a friend.



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From Occupy Wall St.

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Getting Arrested In Front of Wall St: A Impartial Photographers Encounter with "Justice" | Michael Moore | High School Newspaper

Getting Arrested In Front of Wall St: A Impartial Photographers Encounter with "Justice" Michael Moore High School Newspaper

Good Listener

For as long as I can remember I have been saddled with the unfortunate label as ‘a good listener’. To be ‘a good listener’ all that is required is timely and appropriate responses to the ‘talker’, such as agreeable head nods, a raised eyebrow to suggest an acknowledgement of a poignant comment, an occasional “Uh-Huh”, “I see”, “good point” or any other mumblings that will do the job. All the while, feigning  interest in the banality of their words. 

You sit endlessly listening to the monotonous meaningless drivel that emanates from their mouths. I took one girl out once and after the movie we went back to her apartment. I ended up staying the night, but not for the usual reasons a man might spend the night with a women. I think she heard somewhere that I was ‘a good listener’ and decided to take advantage of that. She spent the next few hours recounting every significant event in her life (to her anyway) about her ex-boyfriend, how her father mistreated her, etc., etc., etc. And to send the message home she pulled out ten or so photo albums for my enjoyment…not. It was a long night not the carnal ecstasy I’d hoped for and not even a good morning peck on the cheek.

That incident compounded by the one problem with being ‘a good listener’, the fact that none of these people ever listen to you, has changed me. I am not such ‘a good listener’ anymore, I don’t pay much mind to what other people talk about since it’s most likely nonsense. So if you talk to me and see me raise my brow or nod at measured increments of time, guess what? I’m not listening to a damn thing you’re saying.