Zen And The Art of Maintaining What

Shelley writes: I read ZAMM once, a long time ago. I remembered thinking after reading the work that this was a book written by a man for men, though there is nothing in the work that is even remotely sexist. I felt, though, that I was reading a book written in language I've learned to speak fluently, but wasn't my native language. After Loren's reviews, I might try reading it again, and see if I still suffer the same disconnect.

What was worse, we were supposed to like that book ... and every other damn piece of writing that acted like half the world didn't exist. I find that waay more insidious. I don't remember understanding a damn thing.

Okay, not true, but if I'd faced up to what I understood perfectly well, I would have been appalled in real life (and therefore had no place to to live, me with two little, little kids.) Instead,  all that sort of feeling went underground where you better believe it ate at my cells. Turned my immune system inside out—we are mirroring creatures, and if the mirrors around us are all turned away, if the Narcissus spell has taken over the house, what am I saying? That sickness without begets sickness within?

You bet I am. Take care who you hang with. Better Pirsig should have written, Women, have your own money. Can you believe there was a time when the options were, for a girl without a high school diploma, and who could not clerk to save her soul, whose typing was a bloody nightmare: get married or hook. Blech. Revolting even to recount. As were the succeeding decades. Why am I telling you all this? It can't possibly be of interest, you have your own life, it's very hot where I live today.

Pirsig's son was murdered in San Francisco, someone we all cared about after plowing through that many pages. It was just a stupid little holdup, where the person with the gun sometimes for no reason at all pulls the trigger. We were all sorry for his loss.

(I skipped all the boring parts. I bet I would again.)

Chuck D Got My Back

MOTHERJONES: You’ve got a line on “MKLVFKWR”: “Power to the people not the government.”

CHUCK D: I think governments are the cancer of civilization. And the minute that we see seven or eight women get in a circle and start a war, I’ll be shocked like a motherfucker.

Lemme see, which line do I like more.

I'll have to go with door number two, Monty.

“... the minute that we see seven or eight women get in a circle and start a war ...”

Yea! I win the Chevrolet Monza! We all do!

Why haven't I read anything like Chuck D's statement before? Ever? Anywhere?

Or does it take a relaxed, confident black man to give us that kind of automatic credit, in public?

Automatic in the sense that he is not straining at the idea, his language indicates, if I read the signs right (semiotic pun) Hey, radical thought, people ... and also, like: perfectly natural. And you know you won't be seeing us plotting war. Why is that?

Could it be ... there are more interesting ways to work things out? That women gravitate towards process—oops, another one for my list of Drives Men Fucking Crazy ... at least men of a certain age. Are you young? Am I talking ancient history? Well then two things: write me, and About fucking time, girl!

No, let's go back to the White Boy thing. I already know White Boys aren't giving it away. Whether it's links, credit, or their affections. What they know is hoard and withhold ... it just ain't manly, somehow, to give. For no reason? With no guarantee of return? What kind of loser shit is that?

You just watch out, White Boy, lest I stand Chuck D upside you ...and blow your little mind about manly.

Yes indeed. It's only a concept, it happens to be fucked, you inherited it from fathers who handed on a flawed idea, see?

Just don't be messin' with Chuck D.

He right, we right ... You: in need of correction.

"Always Have Peacocks, These People"

Charming intro, one senses, to a return to authenticity for Paul. No doubt we have Miss Tacky-Nighties to thank. I know I feel better about the man than I have in years ... it's palpable, age, genuine good spirits, never mind the bloody talent. The test will be, shall he have to dis John Lennon again.

Redemption lives in the strangest corners of our lives.

Oh, Honey. You Poor Millennial

  Where Should a Millennial Draw the Line?

“Part of being an entry-level worker is just waiting for something big to come your way. In the meantime, you bite your lip and act busy. Preceding generations say it's normal. I say it sucks. If what our elders say is true, we're supposed to keep on truckin'. Eventually we'll have some real responsibility and the downtime will be nothing less than treasured. The problem is, I don't live my life on blind faith.”

Man, that is one nickname I would not want to be hung with. For one thing, it's hard to say, and what does that bode. Generation-Unpronounceable.

Though I guess "bode" doesn't say it at all, fucker's already here.

Knocked over by that heartbreaking sense of entitlement?

Hey, I didn't raise these kids. Maybe you did. Have mercy.