Tag: society

Saturday’s Theme Music

The wind of change is blowing outside my window. It’s probably just circulation caused by atmospheric pressures.

It’s Saturday, if you’re still keeping tabs, February 4, 2023. Ashlandia’s first sun viewing came around 7:21 this morning. Hard to pinpoint it with the obfuscating clouds gathering. Looks like rain but the air temp is a comfy 48 F with a high of 54 F being dealt to us. The world’s inevitable turning will bring sunset to us at 5:29 this evening.

The matter of change is still on my mind after a series of fascinating dreams. Well, they fascinated me. Anyway, Bob Dylan is singing in the morning mental music stream but so is Buffalo Springfield. The latter’s song is “For What It’s Worth”. Written back in the mid-sixties in response to riots in Los Angeles, CA, it’s often used as an anti-war song. But the song was about hippies and change, with the old guard deciding to crack down. A curfew was established. Any child under the age of 21 was not allowed out in that area of rioting.

There’s a lot to unload from all those basics. First on my mind was that those under 21 were restricted, not being treated as adults, in a time when eighteen-year-olds were being drafted for Vietnam. Seems like a bit of hypocrisy, doesn’t it? That sort of hypocrisy still circulates, with people in the military not authorized to buy alcohol in some states because they’re too young. Not too young to be armed and trained to kill and defend everyone else, but certainly too young to buy alcohol. Likewise, young women in some states can be raped and forced to give birth. They’re too young to marry and age is often cited as a reason for denying young people choices and rights, and yet, these girls are expected to have children.

Today’s theme music gravitates toward more recent events, the collapse of the USSR. “Wing of Change” by the Scorpions was written in response to what they were witnessing. Some thought the Berlin Wall would never come down, and that the United States and Soviet Union would locked in a nuclear standoff until one of them pulled the trigger. Now here we are, thirty years later, wondering if Russia, born from the rubble of the USSR, will be the nation to launch nukes.

Change is fascinating. It doesn’t follow neat lines and can often feel chaotic. Some people, whether it’s drugs, abortion rights, or using nukes and gun rights, view life and change through a tremendously narrow lens. Little change is welcomed in their world.

Anyway, that’s the song which The Neurons introduced as today’s theme music, “Wind of Change” by the Scorpions from 1991 to observe the fall of the U.S.S.R. and the ‘Iron Curtain’. Following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the band changed their lyrics in concert.

“To sing ‘Wind of Change’ as we have always sung it, that’s not something I could imagine any more,” vocalist Klaus Meine told Die Zeit. “It simply isn’t right to romanticize Russia.”

When performing “Wind Of Change” during Scorpions’ 2022 tour, Meine sings:

Now listen to my heart
It says Ukraine
Waiting for the wind to change

Stay positive and make the most of your Saturday. I’m beginning with coffee, black, fresh, and hot. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

I was walking and thinking yesterday (amazing that I didn’t hurt myself), pursuing a flotilla of random thoughts when a scene between a traveler and a Tesla driver caught my eye. Traveler is the name given to homeless around here. Homeless is an easy term for a complex situation. Local agencies have interviewed a number of homeless and discovered that some are homeless by choice and enjoy traveling from area to area along the I-5 corridor. Ashland doesn’t welcome travelers but the community strives to enjoy everyone has a few meals a week and shelter during cold weather.

I don’t know what the conversation was about between the Tesla driver and the traveler. I knew the man was a traveler because I’ve seen him before and had bought him food a few times. I hadn’t seen him for a while, and thought he’d moved on. Maybe he did, and came back.

Watching the exchange, though, lyrics from the 1968 Sly and the Family Stone song, “Everyday People” came to mind. I feel fortunate that Sly and the Family Stone was making music then, as they released several terrific albums. This song is just one that I remember and enjoy.

The song’s sentiment is timeless.

Sometimes I’m right and I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my song
The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then
Makes no difference what group I’m in
I am everyday people, yeah, yeah

There is a blue one
Who can’t accept the green one
For living with a fat one
Trying to be a skinny one
Different strokes
For different folks

And so on and so on
And scooby dooby dooby
Oh sha sha
We got to live together

I am no better and neither are you
We are the same, whatever we do
You love me, you hate me, you know me and then
You can’t figure out the bag I’m in
I am everyday people, yeah yeah

There is a long hair
That doesn’t like the short hair
For being such a rich one
That will not help the poor one
Different strokes
For different folks

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Yeah, we’re all everyday people.

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Strangers

He knew their faces, knew them well,

saw them every day.

When they weren’t present on their appointed time,

he always wondered about their fate.

They never looked at him,

when he was looking at them,

and never shared a sound;

not hello, good-bye, or how’s the weather,

their lips were sealed against verbs and nouns.

 

They were his daily companions,

he knew them well,

saw them every day,

and knew the gulf between him and them,

and wondered why it wouldn’t go away.

 

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“This coffee tastes like piss.”

I wonder, as many probably do, how my piss tastes. I also pondered whether I’d ever eaten my boogers as a child. Mom has never mentioned it, but many children do, and I was a child who did a lot of things because I was curious.

I’m not sure how I feel about eating baby feces.

This isn’t a gross-out post. Honestly. Perhaps it is, from your point of view. That’s why I bring it up, not to gross you out, but to bring the subjects into the light.

The three subjects, tasting urine, eating boogers, and eating baby poop, are part of a larger subject, the human body, and trends. Thinking about them came from conversations and reading. I finished reading An Instance of the Fingerpost this week. Book One is about a doctor. He mentions tasting people’s urine as part of the examination process in the sixteen hundreds. Yes, I remember from other reading, doctors tasted urine when they were examining patients long before the sixteen hundreds.

I don’t think many doctors do that these days. Most people are probably horrified about it, but I dipped my finger into my stream this morning and gave it a lick. I thought, why not? I’ve tasted my blood, sweat, and tears before, because I wanted to know how they tasted, so why not my pee?

I have ideas about how urine should taste, based on statements like, “This coffee tastes like piss.” I’ve read a few things about it, and we’d discussed it once while talking about survival training. Today’s piss reminded me of a bitters beer. I don’t know if that’s normal. An ongoing cold and head congestion are sabotaging my taste experience this week.

That done, I turned to the question of eating boogers. A friend, talking about his grand-daughter, mentioned that she often picked her nose and not infrequently ingested her boogers. Another friend present, a retired doctor, talked about that and said that some booger eating can be beneficial.

That second person is also the one that talked about eating baby feces. He and I had read about probiotics in infants’ fecal matter, and he’d read other periodicals about how a small amount of baby poop could be therapeutic restoring digestive systems. I pondered what kind of beer or wine would go with baby poop.

Well, I didn’t eat a booger, and I haven’t sampled baby feces yet, that I know. Tasting my piss was my step forward today.

 

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I Can’t / I Can

Meditating and calming is hard today. My heart is with Dallas. My heart is with the people the police killed. My heart is with the officers and family killed by snipers.

I can’t digest the reasons a traffic stop ends in death. “I have a gun. I’m permitted to carry it.” Four shots later, dead. Some witnesses say the shots were fired before the officer finished saying. It’s contested. John Scalzi writes what I think. I can’t imagine, I can imagine, I can remember moments when an officer confronted me, but I never thought about being shot and killed. I’m white and male. It’s a different world for me.

Police are called to a convenience store. A black man is outside. Police arrive, confront him, taser him, wrestle him to the crowd. They see a gun. Bang. The narrative is contested. No one is agreeing about what happened, about what videos showed, about who remembers what.

Black people are being killed for broken tail lights. Shot in the back eight times while running away. Because they’re a threat.

Protests break out. Trials, investigations, inquiries are conducted and almost every time, from small black child with a toy gun to people tasered and on the ground, the results return, “It was justified.” The officer feared…. The officer followed proper procedures….

So, who is surprised? Someone else says, “I’m fucking tired of this. I’m fighting back. I’m taking it to them. See how they like it when they’re shot and killed without provocation, because they’re not the ones who did anything, but the system is rigged and has provoked me to this response.” And they get up there and start shooting at officers.

How many trigger words are in those sentences I wrote that people would contest? Many, many. We ‘know’ more violence isn’t the answer but we ‘know’ that nothing has been changed to protect people from being shot and killed by a good guy, bad guy, or police officer, with a gun. We know fear is rising. Imagine being a police officer right now. Imagine being a black person. Imagine being in Dallas when the shots are fired. Imagine being in a car and reaching for your wallet when shots are fired.

There will be responses. There will be posts like this. There will be prayers and pious statements that our hearts are with the victims, whether they’re officers or citizens, of this rising streak of violent death by guns, as I wrote in my first paragraph, as I, weary of these dire headlines and violence, struggle to understand. The NRA will remain silent. They’ve learned not to speak out at these moments. Bad PR. Others will make foolish statements. Some will challenge and mock, “See, those fucking police officers were good guys with guns.”

Yeah.

Reading the officers’ accounts of going into Orlando after that mass shooting – how many days ago? –  they tell of the darkness and uncertainty in the club, of going through carefully to find the shooter. Add some good guys with guns shooting at what they think is the bad gun with a gun into that charged environment of darkness and uncertainty.

But we know the future. There will be protests. Marches. Calls for change. Petitions. Blog posts. Prayers. Statements. Maybe sit-ins. Gun sales will rise again.

We know the future. Just look to the past. You don’t need to travel far.

Just travel to June.

 

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